sunrizef1

[sunrizef1]

Fanfiction Lewis being like "blah blah blah I'm so OLD will you still love me even if I'm literally FORTY with one foot in the GRAVE" meanwhile in real life he's infodumping about his video game collection and skateboarding across the paddock after his tenth flight to New York. Then he's gonna hit the club

[sunrizef1]

Hits Different

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol

Authors note: tired

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ynln

liked by alexandrasaintmleux rebeccadonaldson and 1,232,144 others

ynln only thing I washed away was my dignity xoxo

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lando damn girl wtf happened at Carbone

user1 girl you good?

alexandrasaintmleux you cried in the uber and then tipped him £50…. Lets be serious

user2 this is…

pierregasly u need god and a nap

danielricciardo new matching tattoo is sick tho

rebeccadonaldson ur never on club-watch again

danielricciardo it’s a very cool tattoo…

user3 I fear that publicly posting pictures of yourself crying is a new low

user4 delete this for the sake of your ego

carmenmundt call me?

georgerussell answer carm pls she won’t stop pacing

charles_leclerc this seems fine

user5 right right right

user6 missing Lewis

this comment was deleted

redbull should we make max log in and delete this for you…

oscarpiastri i feel unsafe

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charles_leclerc replied to your story!

charles_leclerc

and why are you on the concrete next to her?

alexandrasaintmleux

girl, do NOT worry about it

charles_leclerc

Okay I won’t, god damn

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ynln added to their story

carmenmundt replied to your story!

carmenmundt

Get out of the driveway

Dinners ready

George set the table

ynln

Alright mom damn

carmenmundt liked your message

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ynln

liked by charles_leclerc georgerussell and 2,111,071 others

ynln the sand is full of lies

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charles_leclerc are you clinically insane?

alexandrasaintmleux we take you on a new vacation and you post badly cropped pictures of an old one… what is ur deal lady

lando u used to ask me to photoshop him out but now you fully embrace just bad cropping

user7 his face is just like… fully in the last one… what are we doing here

danielricciardo i think the price of real therapy would be worth it when you compare the skill level of people with degrees to whatever the grid is doing

mercedesamg this is a red flag (and we know a lot about those)

user8 yn ln is so aesthetic until she opens her mouth

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oscarpiastri just say you miss him good god

user9 the grid is so tired

user10 me and all my gang all hear voices that aren’t there

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alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story!

alexandrasaintmleux

face cropped out cuz u were crying

I know what you are

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ynln

liked by charles_leclerc lando and 3,887,111 others

ynln oh, my! love is a lie!

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lando alright Shakespeare

oscarpiastri that’s a big name for Elmo

charles_leclerc I was not invited. Feeling: neglected

alexandrasaintmleux I’m the one who told you that btw

charles_leclerc ???

pierregasly he will pay

estebanocon and what r u going to do

user11 I can smell this post and I don’t like it

user12 it is very pretty tho

sebastianvettel love is not a lie. You just chose poorly.

user13 shit my friends say to get me by

francocolapinto big fan of this

carlossainz no.

user14 gettin swerved by a short man who drives in circles… I’d lose my mind too

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lando replied to your story!

lando

Get it together

ynln

Boo

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ynln

📍somewhere you said we’d go together

liked by lando lewishamilton and 8,124,671 others

ynln bet I could still melt your world

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charles_leclerc ur actually unwell and it’s inspiring

alexandrasaintmleux you’re melting my world that’s for sure

lando idek what he did but he needs to keep doing it if it make you post like this

oscarpiastri serve (I think?)

user15 the sand hurts MY feelings

user16 the location lmfao I can’t do this

user17 Lewis in the likes???? Free me!!!

maxfewtrell I love your blue dress

carlossainz be decent.

rebeccadonaldson pretty girl 😍😍😍

pierre_gasly kika is drooling

franciscagomes how did heartbreak make you hotter? Unfair.

user18 this serve

carmenmundt the way this is all you packed 😍

user19 her comment section is a constant merry-go-round of f1 and the f1-adjacent who need compensation for what they’ve done

lewishamilton my argumentative antithetical dream girl

carmenmundt ?

alexandrasaintmleux hello?

charles_leclerc @/ynln

lando wtf

rebeccadonaldson ???

carlossainz where did you come from

oscarpiastri where is yn

georgerussell what does this mean

pierregasly the fuck?

lilymhe huh?

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liked by lewishamilton lando and 12,811,121 others

ynln it hits different cuz it’s you

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lando soft-launch or hostage situation

charles_leclerc girl yk we can see him too, right?

user20 wait are these pictures new or not?

alexandrasaintmleux text me back or publicly tell the internet whether or not these pictures are recent

user21 are we being gaslit?

pierregasly zoomed in so hard I saw the future

pierregasly or the past…?

oscarpiastri I’m comparing these photos to ur old posts… I need a week-day job

user22 at least the drivers are going through the same delusions as me

user23 what does this mean?

carmenmundt the group chat is begging for you to respond

georgerussell irresponsible internet use

user24 free will is a curse

user25 babe said “guess who?” And then sprinted away

user26 baby girl I can see his face

carlossainz WHORES!

rebeccadonaldson happy for you! (?)

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Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

[sunrizef1]

Look I don't wanna bitch but if your Tumblr fic takes longer to scroll past than the Do You Love The Colour Of The Sky post then it would be kinda appreciated if you put the majority of it under a Read More button

[sunrizef1]

You'll walk alone

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!reader

Warnings: none, emotional tw for Trent to Madrid, actually tw for Madrid as well

authors note: ouchies! Who knew all it took for me to write for Trent was for him to leave

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yn

liked by trentarnold66 virgilvandijk and 3,876,098 others

yn aug 2016. academy boy, hometown boy, my boy. grateful to have grown here with you <3

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virgilvandijk #throwback

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user1 the good old days

user2 this made me emotional and I don’t even know them lol

trentarnold66 my girl since day 1

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yn ❤️

liverpoolfc liverpools just in your blood 🤷‍♀️

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yn and it forever will be 🫰

user3 so proud of how far they’ve come 😭

user4 they really took “you’ll never walk alone” to a new level

andrewrobertson my favorite couple

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user5 she’s really been there since the beginning

user6 may this kind of love find me

user7 the only wag id trust with my life

user8 sobbing

harveyelliot unreal love story. Looking up to the two of you 🤞

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yn you’ll find yours one day 🫰

user9 this caption hit hard

ibrahimakonate my friends 🙏

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yn

liked by trentarnold66 virgilvandijk and 5,877,677 others

yn something so surreal about seeing you lift a trophy from the very same seat where I watched you debut. no matter how many times you lot win, it never gets old.

endlessly proud.

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trentarnold66 thank you for being there every single time ❤️

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yn always for you

user10 they’ve grown together!! Don’t talk to me I’m sensitive 😢

user11 they’re so soulmate core

user12 ah they’re day ones

user13 perfect defense and a perfect couple

user14 I feel like I’ve watched them grow up

liverpoolfc this is what it’s all about ❤️

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jamesmilner class caption. class couple.

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yn love you James!!!

user15 she really embodies the spirit of this city 🫶

user16 alright, ring when?

virgilvandijk knew that was you I heard cheering

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yn

liked by liverpoolfc wataruendo and 4,866,101 others

yn nine years. one voice. one song. ynwa

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user17 suddenly Im crying

user18 oh god I can't do this

user19 no Trent... ik what this is

virgilvandijk the best cheerleader

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user20 back on their perch

wataruendo 😊

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user21 YNWA

trentarnold66 one heart.

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user23 the rare type of love that makes history with the club.

user24 you've always been the voice of the fans. Thank you <3

andrewrobertson you two have always been the heart of this club ❤️

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trentarnold66

liked by andrewrobertson judebellingham and 12,888,031 others

trentarnold66 thank you for everything. Liverpool, my home forever.

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yn

liked by virgilvandijk liverpoolfc and 12,786,111 others

yn an anthem you stopped singing.

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trentarnold66

liked by realmadrid judebellingham and 12,018,435 others

trentarnold66 new beginnings

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december, 2025 - seven months later

yn

liked by trentarnold66 liverpoolfc and 3,001,811 others

yn still here. still home.

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[sunrizef1]

Never been so confused yet thrilled by a sport

[sunrizef1]

guys stop posting fics if you're using ai to write them. we can tell and it's really fucking rude to writers who spend days planning and writing their fics

genuinely so disappointed rn. this is why I hate coming here to read long form fics now, most of it is fucking chatgpt

[sunrizef1]

Never hated a man more than I hate Trent in this very moment

[sunrizef1]

All three are gags! Won’t be accepting any criticism 😍

Role model summer camp merch drop, Taylor swift summer merch drop, new Sabrina carpenter album

Life is good in popstar land

[sunrizef1]

Role model summer camp merch drop, Taylor swift summer merch drop, new Sabrina carpenter album

Life is good in popstar land

[sunrizef1]

Hearts, Intertwined

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Authors Note: Soulmate AU my beloved

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: For as long as he could really vividly remember, Lewis had never really cared about soulmates.

For as long as he could really vividly remember, Lewis had never really cared about soulmates.

When he was younger, he found them exciting. The idea of someone out there being made just for him, to exist with him and the idea that he was perfect for someone else made his mind run with possibilities.

The small marking of a heart at the nape of his neck became forgotten, hidden by the collars of his shirts. He stopped making the extra effort to glance at it in the mirror, stopped tracing it with his fingertips and dreaming of the future, stopped excitedly spinning around to show his new friends the mark.

He forgot about it, really.

It was small enough that he never really noticed it. Out of sight, out of mind.

Instead, he focused on racing. He didn’t have time to think about finding his soulmate when there were races to be won and spots to win.

Steadily, he rose through the ranks of Motorsport. With every win, he came closer to his dream of driving in the pinnacle of Motorsport, formula one.

He fell into a rhythm. A pendulum steadily swinging between winning races and what he could be doing to win more races.

Then, he got to drive for McLaren. His dream, the only one he’d thought about for the past decade and some change, had been realized. He was finally doing what he had spent his whole life working for. This was it.

Then, he started winning. And he kept winning. And winning. And winning. And winning some more.

He thought that this must be what life is all about. This feeling. Of standing on top of a podium, sweaty, drenched in champagne with a trophy clutched in his hands, the crowd below chanting his name. He had never felt better.

Of course, with the years came the tattoos.

He’s not sure what drove him to start getting them but, once he started, he couldn’t really stop. They started to slowly inch over the expanse of his skin, covering the flesh in ornate and meaningful designs, bearing his soul on display for the world to see.

With the ink came his acknowledgment of the mark on the base of his neck. It wasn’t much of an acknowledgment, really. His tattoo artist briefly mentioned it and Lewis replied something like, “Oh, just blend it in.”

And, with that, the mark became obsolete. No one ever mentioned it. It looked like just another small part of his tattoos. Hearts weren’t particularly interesting either. There’s not much to mention.

Of course, Lewis did get lonely. With Nico fading into a memory he would sit and reminisce about, Lewis was left as alone as he had ever been.

He had girlfriends, what F1 driver didn’t? But it never really felt right. Not really. It always felt like something was missing. A spark or a sign that this was who he was meant for. But he always knew they weren’t the one. How could they be? They were never his soulmate.

But he didn’t really care about fulfilling his deeply-rooted destined fate. He just wanted a body to hold and someone to fill the lonely nights. They did that job well enough.

And that’s how life stayed at Mercedes. For a while. Lewis would win, go home to someone with the mark of another on their skin and fall asleep with them clutched in his arms, dreams he doesn’t wish for filling his mind with visions of what he’s missing.

But then, Ferrari.

Ferrari was different. They were a family of some kind that Lewis had never really been familiar with. Of course, Mercedes was a family of a different sort but this… was different.

He had to learn how to live with them. How they like their coffees, which engineers had kids, Charles’s pre-race routines.

But Ferrari… Ferrari also has you.

Lewis had known you for the better part of a decade. You’re younger than him, he knows that. When you’d started at Mercedes the year Nico had won the championship, you were fresh-faced and straight out of college with a degree in mechanical engineering that had only taken you two years to complete. Nineteen years old and practically begging for an authority figure to guide you in this precarious sport that will eat you alive if you’re not careful.

Lewis had briefly pondered why Toto would hire someone with so little experience to a team in their prime but Toto had described you as a “strategic genius” so he let it slide.

So, that year, you started as a junior strategist, specifically, for Nico’s races.

You really were a strategic genius, Lewis will give you that. You and the rest of the garage had quickly propelled Nico through the rankings, giving him hopes for the championship he had been looking for.

So, before Lewis could even introduce himself, Nico had taken you under his wing, putting himself in the role of your guiding light.

When Nico won, Toto was ready to hire you as a full-time race engineer.

But then, Nico left.

You knew before anyone else on the team. Of course you did. He was your driver after all.

So, when Toto offered the engineer spot, you had to decline. Instead, choosing to leave with Nico.

Lewis was fuming, of course. Nico was stealing away their best strategist because of some petty fight they’d been in that year.

But, despite Lewis’s objections, you left.

You were a bit quiet for the break. No one really heard from you. Lewis is sure Nico probably did.

But then, you settled on Ferrari who had given you a full race-engineer position. A team where Nico could safely visit to continue to mentor you and not have to worry about running into the people he didn’t want to see the most.

That’s where you’ve been ever since.

You’d worked with Seb, Charles, and Kimi before you had finally landed on Carlos in 2021, who you’d worked with ever since.

It wasn’t until 2025 when you finally had to work with someone else.

You hadn’t won any championships since Nico’s one in 2016. You didn’t seem too put-off by it, though, simply stating, “Forza Ferrari” as your reasoning when asked in interviews about why you’ve stuck with the team for so long.

Now, you work with Lewis.

Over the years since you’d left Mercedes, Lewis had made an effort to keep up with you. He’d wait for you after the occasional race, text you about results, chat with you on the grid about boring strategy talk. It was mostly small stuff just for you to know that he hadn’t forgotten about you and didn’t want to.

At Ferrari, you’re a saint.

He’s pretty sure he’s never worked with someone so nice in this sport. You're polite over the radios (despite the circumstances), keeping your messages simple and concise, you understand when he doesn’t want to hear it without him even having to say something, and you know just what to say to get him to peak performance.

He’s missed you really.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t really thought much when you left. You were focused on your job and staying with Nico as long as you could.

He still visits, sometimes. When he’s not busy with his big-boy sky sports job.

Ferrari has become your family. When Carlos had gotten replaced, you were honestly devastated to see him go. Four years spent with the same driver, the first time you’d not flip-flopped between them in the off-seasons, and he’s gone just like that.

But Lewis coming in was a different type of excitement.

You’d always admired Lewis. He was the one winning all these championships, breaking all these records, everything he’d done had been monumental.

Of course, he’s also your friend, which helps the joy.

The bond you two have has always been one of thinly-veiled adoration disguised as something much more surface-level. Something without implications.

Something that won't give you a headache the size of McLaren’s ego.

So, you don’t mention the strange tension. You pretend that friends always brush hands when they walk next to each other, always laugh louder when around eachother even when the jokes aren’t funny, always catch each other staring when one isn’t looking.

Lewis never mentions it. So you don’t either.

But anyways, you’re not a fan of Qatar.

It’s hot and sticky and riddled with not-so favorable memories of not winning.

But it seemed most tracks had those memories these days.

You’re supposed to be talking to the engineers about tire wear from the first practice, which had just concluded. The pair of Ferraris were in ninth and tenth and you were tasked with figuring out why the hell two of the best drivers on the grid could barely crack the top half.

But you’re not talking to the engineers, actually. Instead, Charles had dragged you into a long-winded conversation about turn ten that you honestly couldn’t find it in yourself to care about. You had seen the data from turn ten. He was the fastest through it even despite his low speed for the rest of the lap. So, you’re not really talking any of this information to heart. You’re not even his race engineer.

You fan at your face, trying to get rid of at least a little bit of the incessant heat soaking into your skin. You’re sweating and the high-quality fabric of your team polo isn’t making it any better. Charles just won't stop talking.

“The tire wear was causing me to slide into it towards the end of the session and it was slowing me down significantly, almost lost the back end for the last ten laps,” That’s almost some information you can actually use. Though, it’s delivered with a monegasque accent and a sad little frown.

You wave your hand around the air without much aim, shaking your head, “You were fastest in turn ten, Cha. You wanna tell me more about the tire wear though?”

Charles furrows his eyebrows, taken aback, “Really?”

He seems confused, though he quickly pivots to your question, opening his mouth to answer when suddenly Fred walks up, clapping the driver on the shoulder with a grin, “That was shit.”

You snort and Charles sends the older man a glare, trying to duck away when he reaches up to ruffle the driver's hair. You just laugh at the sight, eyes crinkling and lips turning upwards.

They move along, bickering back and forth in the familiar way they do, all muttered Italian and sniping remarks. You laugh, turning away as they walk away.

You face out of the garage, eyes looking toward the pit lane. You scan the now-empty stands, eyes flickering between the few stragglers left waiting for a glimpse of their favorite drivers. You wave at a little girl in a Ferrari hat who looks your way with a grin.

It’s dead hot in this country. Like the kind of hot that makes you want to peel off your shirt and lay down on the cold concrete. You passively fan at your face, trying to at least create a little bit of a breeze for your shining skin.

“Warm?” A voice rings out from behind you, a familiar joyful tone laced into it.

You turn around, leaning against the side of the garage entrance next to you. Your eyes land on a familiar face, Ferrari cap on his head and a red fan in his hand, his wrist flicking as he moves it back and forth. For what it’s worth, he does look like he’s dealing with the heat better than you are.

“Just a bit,” you reply coolly, smiling slightly and crossing your arms as he approaches, “You seem to be doing fine, though.”

He doesn’t respond, just lifts his other hand and tosses you a red fan, identical to the one in his hand. You spread it out, noticing the gold detailing and the Ferrari logo that forms as you do. It’s beautiful. You’re more worried about how well it will deter the heat, though.

As you start to fan yourself, he moves to stand beside you, looking out toward the pit lane. You turn back around to face that way as well, gazing out at the setting sun. It only stands as a reminder of just how long you’ve been here, in the garage, today. A soft sigh leaves your lips. Lewis doesn’t hear it.

“It’s a nice weekend,” he states. You glance his way but his eyes are locked onto the watercolor sky, the rainbow of colors reflected in the shines of his irises.

You hum, “Is it?”

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Got a good feeling.”

You can’t help the way your lips turn up or the way you have to look down to keep them from turning into a grin, “I’m glad.”

Lewis laughs, though you’re not sure why, “Good. I like it when you’re glad.”

You snort. Whatever that means, you wave it away, “Alright, Shakespeare. You should be getting back to the hotel. Get some sleep for tomorrow.”

“Any advice for qualifying, then?” He asks, finally peeling his eyes away from the setting sun and, instead, setting them on you.

You look at him, not avoiding eye contact, “You heard me in debrief.”

“Yeah,” Lewis shrugs, “But I want to hear you say it to me personally.”

You roll your eyes, dismissing the way your stomach flips, “Fine. You need to find some speed in turn three because you’re slow into turn five and turn three is where you have an advantage. You also need to avoid wearing the tires out because it’s causing you to slide into the last three turns and you have the fastest sector three times when you’re not on old tires. Your sector two is fast but it would be faster if you took the inside line instead of the racing line because of the way the car oversteers.”

When you finish speaking, Lewis is just staring at you, a soft smile on his lips, “Thank you.”

You hum, rolling your eyes and turning away from him, grin painted on your lips, “Don’t mention it.”

He doesn’t, for the record. He just stands next to you, flicking the fan back and forth, the movement causing a rhythmic click to be the only sound in the silence. You wave the fan too, just quieter, somehow.

Eventually, you do both depart, off back to the hotel for a night of rest. At least, Lewis will probably get a full night's rest. You’ll be up for most of it, looking at data and going over lap times, checking the strategists work and annotating whatever comments they had sent you for the sessions.

Qualifying is fine. Charles takes turn ten like he had been the whole weekend and sets the fastest time in that sector overall, slotting into fifth. Lewis puts on fresh tires in Q3, finds pace in turn three, takes the inside line in sector two, doesn’t slide in the last sector, and slots into second place. He’s only behind a particularly fast Oscar Piastri but beating any McLaren was a feat these days. The team is happy about the first-row start. You know you are.

But you’re even happier when Lewis finds your gaze after and you can tell he’s giving you the credit. The shine in his eyes says so, at least. Not that you’d tell anyone that.

Race day comes at last and, somehow, it’s the hottest day of the whole weekend. Engineers are drenching themselves in water and strategists have ice packs draped over their necks. Fred walks past with a crappy mechanical fan and you’re pretty sure you see Leo trot past toward a little pup cup of cool whipped cream in Alex’s hand.

You, though, have a red and gold fan clutched in your hand, waving it harshly to try and not die from heat exhaustion.

You’re going over data from qualifying in the pit lane, conversing with Fred about the strategy for the day. His cheap fan is whirring loudly from where he’s set it down on the counter in front of you, positioning himself to still be on the tail end of its breeze. You’d already had the race briefing a while ago. Now, Fred’s just trying to figure out what you’re going to say to Lewis when things inevitably go awry.

Speaking of Lewis, you can almost feel him approach from behind you. When you turn, he’s stood behind you, walking across the pit lane, ice vest against his red fireproofs, sunglasses against his heated face, and curls barely peaking out from under his cap.

Before he can even reach the two of you, you call out, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

His own eyes flicker over your head toward the grid where teams are huddled around their cars and their drivers, “No way, it’s hotter than the sun in that car.”

You snort, “Right, I forgot you’ve been around so long that you can just do what you want at this point.”

“It’s a benefit of the job,” he replies, walking up to lean between the two chairs, an elbow on each one, “Hey, Fred.”

“Lewis,” Fred nods, picking up his fan from the counter, “I’m going back to the air conditioned garage.”

“There’s AC here,” you reply jokingly, gesturing above you at the crappy vents that were half-heartedly installed into the pit lane booths.

“Yeah, right,” Fred rolls his eyes, not even sparing you the effort of turning around to reply as he walks back toward the red garage.

Once he’s out of sight, you turn back toward the screens with a huffed laugh.

“Grumpy old man,” Lewis says from beside you and you laugh, loudly, turning your head to gesture a vague apology to the Mercedes employees next to you who had been disturbed by the noise.

“That he is,” you reply, leaning back in the chair and waving the fan over your face. Though, the small-backed chairs don’t really allow much room for you to lean back.

It’s quiet for a few moments as you watch a replay of Max Verstappens qualifying lap a few times. Max had gotten sixth, uncharacteristically low for the Red Bull driver.

“Watch your oversteer coming out of turn ten towards the end of the first stint,” you mutter, furrowing your eyebrows at the screen.

“Hm?” Lewis replies, seemingly not having been looking at the same thing you were.

“Careful about oversteer out of turn ten with tire deg,” you repeat, replaying the two-second clip over again, “Max was the only one on used tires. They burned all of the available ones getting out of Q2. He oversteered out of turn ten and almost spun into the grass. Be careful.”

You hadn’t discussed turn ten. Rightfully so, the moment was so nondescript that it was barely noticeable. But if Max had let the car go even a centimeter further over the line he would’ve been on the grass and probably in the wall.

“Thanks,” Lewis hums. You don’t turn to him. You just nod.

When you do glance up, you notice many pairs of eyes pointed in your direction. You look up, finally tearing your gaze away from the lap that had entranced your attention. There’s movement on the track. More So than before.

“I do think you actually have to go now, Lew,” you hum, closing the footage of the lap and turning to look at the driver. You assume he’ll be looking where you were, ready to go out on track.

But no, he’s looking at you.

You try not to think about it.

“Lew,” you say softly when he doesn’t move. This gets his attention and he snaps out of it, nodding slightly.

“I’ll be hearing you, yeah?” He grins, backing away toward the gate in the wall.

You nod, “You always do.”

He laughs and turns around, rushing slightly to get through the gap in the fence. You watch as he slides through and, once you see him safely get to the Ferrari crowd, you look back away, leaning back into the pit wall and trying to pretend you’re interested in the lap times ahead of you.

The race itself is uneventful, for the most part. Lewis listens to you, he always does, though. A rookie crashes out on the opening lap. It doesn’t affect the Ferraris so you pay it little mind.

Lewis goes for the overtake on lap six. He gets it. He keeps the lead for the rest of the race. He crosses the finish line first.

After the podium, you ask him about his celebrations. He tells you he’s not going out, citing something about clubbing being a “younger man’s game.” You’re sure he’s still got it in him, though.

You don’t push him about it. You’ve never been one to meddle in the lives of others. If Lewis’s idea of a celebration is trying not to melt into the floor and icing his bad back, then so be it.

“Good race!” The cheerful voice of Fred Vasseur comes loudly from behind you. You spin around to meet the man’s smiling face.

“Thank you, Fred,” you reply coolly, trying not to grimace as the man’s arm slings around your shoulders. It is still entirely too hot in this country.

You pass time with the principal for a while after, talking with the various employees that move past as well. Charles, having gotten third, is in good spirits.

Eventually, you do extract yourself from the liveliness of the Ferrari garage in favor of heading back to the hotel to take a cold shower and pass out in your plush hotel room bed. You can still hear the cheers of the tifosi as you walk along the paddock.

Suddenly, an arm comes up to slither across your shoulders for the second time in the past hour. This time, the arm is painted with intricate inkings. Though, they’re hidden by the sleeve of his fireproof.

“Hello, winner,” you grin, not bothering to turn your head toward the man in question.

You don’t have to see him to know he’s grinning, “Couldn’t have done it without you, you know? Oscar slid coming out of turn ten, I didn’t. That’s what gave me the jump on him.”

“Well I’m glad to know I’m doing my job correctly,” you laugh, leaning just slightly more into his side. It’s now that you realize you’re no longer walking toward the parking lot but, instead, toward the drivers rooms. You don’t really mind enough to say anything.

“It’s never been a worry of mine,” he replies playfully, his tone sure.

“Of course you’re not worried,” you snort, shaking your head, “Being a seven time world champion kinda does make you sure of yourself.”

“I wasn’t talking about myself,” he replies with a hum.

Oh.

You’re not entirely sure what to respond with so you just stay quiet. Though, the quiet isn’t awkward. It’s soft, comfortable. You don’t really think much as Lewis continues to guide you toward where you assume is his room. Maybe you should say something. You don’t really want to.

You reach the door quickly and Lewis pushes it open, peeling himself off of you to allow you both to walk inside.

Lewis’s room is immediately in character. There’s not much in it. Unsurprising considering the circumstances. But there are hints of him.

His clothes from before the race are folded neatly in a stack on the edge of the table in the corner. His helmet and gloves are already sitting beside them. His phone is plugged in to a charger, face up and powered off. His rings are sat neatly beside it.

“Do you want to get dinner?” Lewis has walked into the bathroom at this point, his voice stretching from the other room.

“Hm?” You reply, settling into the couch and picking up the dog stuffed animal that had been sitting on it before. A stuffed animal that looks surprisingly like Roscoe, actually.

“Some of the teams going to dinner to celebrate,” he calls out before he slowly reappears in the doorway to the bathroom, his race suit low on his hips, “Do you wanna come?”

You nod, sliding off your shoes and pulling your knees up toward your chest, “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Lewis watches your actions with a soft grin, seemingly thinking for a second before he nods, his smile stretching wider. He turns around to go back to the bathroom but as he does, he reaches over his head and grabs the collar of his fireproof, pulling it up and over his head.

You look away.

In your head, you’re giving him privacy but maybe it has more to do with the heat rising to your cheeks at an alarming pace.

You look so far away that the top of your head leans against the wall behind you. You don’t fight your eyes as they flicker closed.

“I’m going to take a shower!” Lewis calls, now back in the bathroom.

You grit your teeth, “Alright!”

Jesus Christ.

You’d never really thought much of Lewis like this. You’d seen him shirtless. Everyone had seen him shirtless. Either on the podium or when he walks in the paddock wearing what he would refer to as a shirt but everyone else would call a display of public indecency.

Maybe it’s because those times had all been from afar. But, for some reason, seeing him drag the red fabric over his back had your heart tapping like it never really had before for him.

Lewis had always been there. Always in the paddock, always just across the pit lane, always there. His move to Ferrari had shocked you but you hadn’t expected it to change things. It hadn’t. Not really. Not until now.

You spend the next ten minutes trying to pull yourself together. You eventually manage to calm your twisting stomach and pull out your phone, scrolling passively through emails and messages, plush Roscoe clutched tightly between your knees and your chest.

You set the device down next to you when you hear the bathroom door click open. You thank god you had already gotten yourself together before because you’re not sure how you would’ve reacted now if you hadn’t.

Lewis steps out of the bathroom, towel low on his hips, water droplets still running down his chest.

Jesus Christ. Again.

For the first time since you’d met him, you get the chance to really look at Lewis’s tattoos. Of course, you could’ve just googled them but that feels like a weird line you’re not going to cross. They’re pretty. You’d never noticed many of them. For some reason, they just make Lewis feel so human.

You try to pretend you’re not staring as Lewis steps around the room, grabbing his clothes out of one of his several suitcases and strolling back to the bathroom like you didn’t think he was insane.

A few minutes later, the door opens and Lewis steps out, pants now on, thank god. Though, he has his shirt half-on which isn’t particularly helpful for your situation.

“Can you help me with the clasp?” He asks, widening his eyes just slightly and gesturing toward the back of his shirt, “I can’t get it.”

You take a moment but you nod, setting Roscoe down and getting up from the couch. You pad lightly toward Lewis who turns away from you.

It’s a very Lewis shirt. All sheer and silk and lace settling against his chest and not really leaving much to the imagination.

You slowly lift your hands, gazing at his tattoos through the fabric. You finally reach the clasp, the nape of his neck the only part of his back truly exposed by the gap in the fabric. Your eyes trail over the skin, admiring the intricate inkings. But, they catch.

“Lewis,” you say almost breathlessly, fingers just barely hovering above his skin, tracing the air in a continuous pattern, “What is this heart on your neck?”

You see him pause. It’s almost as if he’s debating what response he’s going to give you. Eventually, he responds, “My soul mark.”

He’s resigned in the way he says it. As if this will make you run away in fear. As if this is the end of your knowing him. He doesn’t know how wrong he is.

“Lew…” you trail off, your voice almost desperate. Your eyes won’t leave the mark and you can feel your eyes welling despite your attempts to push this deep down inside yourself.

Lewis Hamilton. Your soulmate. The man who had always been there, always been around, eternally meant for you.

Your eyes are forced to leave the mark though, when Lewis turns around, peeling the shirt off over his head and practically throwing it at the floor, no regard for where it lands.

“I’ll get a different shirt,” his voice is stern but you notice the slight shake that he’s desperately trying to hide.

“Lew-“ you say, tone practically pleading. You reach forward and grab his wrist before he can fully walk past you and he doesn’t try to pull himself away. He just looks away, shirt clutched in his fist.

You don’t let go of his hand after silence falls between you. Instead, you pull his hand up, stepping forward slightly. You place your hand over the back of his, your other hand gently wrapping around his wrist.

He doesn’t look your direction. Though, he doesn’t try to move away.

You just watch his face, a practiced mask hiding the turmoil in his soul. You slowly raise his hand, stepping within his reach. Gently, so kindly, you place his hand on the nape of your neck. You can see his brows furrow.

You slide his palm slowly until you reach the mark you had become so familiar with. You can feel his fingers twitching as he slowly seems to sense the shape under the warmth of his tattooed hand.

You watch as the tenseness in his features fade and it’s replaced by a slight furrow in his eyebrows. The tip of his finger starts to trace the edges of the heart. You don’t loosen your grip on his wrist.

He finally looks up, shock evident on his face, “Yn-“

He pauses, clearly unsure. He looks you in your eyes for the first time since he’d asked you to button his shirt. Slowly, he pulls you into his grasp, wrapping an arm around your torso. Then, only once you’re firmly in his grasp, he melts. You can feel his entire body relax and you shift to just let him hold you closer. His arms wind tighter around you.

You stand there like that for a while, nothing but the sound of your breathing to keep you company.

“Love,” Lewis pulls away just slightly, moving his hand to rest against the side of your face. Lewis had called you love before. It was his default after just your first name. But this time, it feels like more, “Can I- can I kiss you?”

You let out a sound half-way between a laugh and a sigh. A smile pulls at the edges of your mouth and you don’t have to force the nod that shakes your head side to side.

Then, his lips are on yours. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve felt before. But, at the same time, it feels so deeply familiar. It feels so Lewis. It feels like the guy you had a crush on nine years ago but could barely talk to without getting nervous and then also getting a rant from Nico. It feels like the man who says “good day for a race” over the radio every single time you ask him to check in. It feels like the man who asked you to button his shirt. As if he couldn’t just do it himself.

It’s warm, hot, really. His hand is still against your neck, tracing a pattern while his other hand is pulling your face closer to his own. Your own arms slither up to wrap around the back of his neck.

Eventually, you have to come up for air, pulling away from Lewis and looking up at the man who has been so intertwined in your very being, forcing himself into every nook and cranny of your life for nine years.

“Still wanna go to that dinner?” You ask, breathlessly.

It breaks the silence and Lewis laughs, eyes fluttering closed before he opens them and looks at you with a kind of tenderness you had only seen him aim at his dog and his car, “Yeah.”

You don’t even have time to furrow your eyebrows before he continues, “Just not with them.”

That gets you. You lean back in, having to fight your smile away to press your lips to his.

Maybe you’d always known it was Lewis. Maybe some part of your brain had recognized that he was your soulmate all those nine years ago and forced you to have a stupid crush on him. You’d thought it was a stupid crush at least. You’d thought you’d gotten over it.

Unfortunately, pressing your lips to his had made your stomach twist worse than when he had met you, shook your hand and squeezed just slightly before he pulled away. Worse than it did when his eyes had caught yours and his other hand rested on the back of your own as he shook.

You’re a goner. But you guess you don’t mind being gone for him.

Later that night, after a long dinner filled with memories and laughs about things that haven’t happened yet, Lewis drops you off at your room.

Or, at least, he tries to drop you off. It’s no one’s business if you catch his wrist and drag him in behind you before you slam the door.

When you fall asleep, it’s just four hearts, intertwined.

——

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119 @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie

[sunrizef1]

Hearts, Intertwined

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Authors Note: Soulmate AU my beloved

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: For as long as he could really vividly remember, Lewis had never really cared about soulmates.

For as long as he could really vividly remember, Lewis had never really cared about soulmates.

When he was younger, he found them exciting. The idea of someone out there being made just for him, to exist with him and the idea that he was perfect for someone else made his mind run with possibilities.

The small marking of a heart at the nape of his neck became forgotten, hidden by the collars of his shirts. He stopped making the extra effort to glance at it in the mirror, stopped tracing it with his fingertips and dreaming of the future, stopped excitedly spinning around to show his new friends the mark.

He forgot about it, really.

It was small enough that he never really noticed it. Out of sight, out of mind.

Instead, he focused on racing. He didn’t have time to think about finding his soulmate when there were races to be won and spots to win.

Steadily, he rose through the ranks of Motorsport. With every win, he came closer to his dream of driving in the pinnacle of Motorsport, formula one.

He fell into a rhythm. A pendulum steadily swinging between winning races and what he could be doing to win more races.

Then, he got to drive for McLaren. His dream, the only one he’d thought about for the past decade and some change, had been realized. He was finally doing what he had spent his whole life working for. This was it.

Then, he started winning. And he kept winning. And winning. And winning. And winning some more.

He thought that this must be what life is all about. This feeling. Of standing on top of a podium, sweaty, drenched in champagne with a trophy clutched in his hands, the crowd below chanting his name. He had never felt better.

Of course, with the years came the tattoos.

He’s not sure what drove him to start getting them but, once he started, he couldn’t really stop. They started to slowly inch over the expanse of his skin, covering the flesh in ornate and meaningful designs, bearing his soul on display for the world to see.

With the ink came his acknowledgment of the mark on the base of his neck. It wasn’t much of an acknowledgment, really. His tattoo artist briefly mentioned it and Lewis replied something like, “Oh, just blend it in.”

And, with that, the mark became obsolete. No one ever mentioned it. It looked like just another small part of his tattoos. Hearts weren’t particularly interesting either. There’s not much to mention.

Of course, Lewis did get lonely. With Nico fading into a memory he would sit and reminisce about, Lewis was left as alone as he had ever been.

He had girlfriends, what F1 driver didn’t? But it never really felt right. Not really. It always felt like something was missing. A spark or a sign that this was who he was meant for. But he always knew they weren’t the one. How could they be? They were never his soulmate.

But he didn’t really care about fulfilling his deeply-rooted destined fate. He just wanted a body to hold and someone to fill the lonely nights. They did that job well enough.

And that’s how life stayed at Mercedes. For a while. Lewis would win, go home to someone with the mark of another on their skin and fall asleep with them clutched in his arms, dreams he doesn’t wish for filling his mind with visions of what he’s missing.

But then, Ferrari.

Ferrari was different. They were a family of some kind that Lewis had never really been familiar with. Of course, Mercedes was a family of a different sort but this… was different.

He had to learn how to live with them. How they like their coffees, which engineers had kids, Charles’s pre-race routines.

But Ferrari… Ferrari also has you.

Lewis had known you for the better part of a decade. You’re younger than him, he knows that. When you’d started at Mercedes the year Nico had won the championship, you were fresh-faced and straight out of college with a degree in mechanical engineering that had only taken you two years to complete. Nineteen years old and practically begging for an authority figure to guide you in this precarious sport that will eat you alive if you’re not careful.

Lewis had briefly pondered why Toto would hire someone with so little experience to a team in their prime but Toto had described you as a “strategic genius” so he let it slide.

So, that year, you started as a junior strategist, specifically, for Nico’s races.

You really were a strategic genius, Lewis will give you that. You and the rest of the garage had quickly propelled Nico through the rankings, giving him hopes for the championship he had been looking for.

So, before Lewis could even introduce himself, Nico had taken you under his wing, putting himself in the role of your guiding light.

When Nico won, Toto was ready to hire you as a full-time race engineer.

But then, Nico left.

You knew before anyone else on the team. Of course you did. He was your driver after all.

So, when Toto offered the engineer spot, you had to decline. Instead, choosing to leave with Nico.

Lewis was fuming, of course. Nico was stealing away their best strategist because of some petty fight they’d been in that year.

But, despite Lewis’s objections, you left.

You were a bit quiet for the break. No one really heard from you. Lewis is sure Nico probably did.

But then, you settled on Ferrari who had given you a full race-engineer position. A team where Nico could safely visit to continue to mentor you and not have to worry about running into the people he didn’t want to see the most.

That’s where you’ve been ever since.

You’d worked with Seb, Charles, and Kimi before you had finally landed on Carlos in 2021, who you’d worked with ever since.

It wasn’t until 2025 when you finally had to work with someone else.

You hadn’t won any championships since Nico’s one in 2016. You didn’t seem too put-off by it, though, simply stating, “Forza Ferrari” as your reasoning when asked in interviews about why you’ve stuck with the team for so long.

Now, you work with Lewis.

Over the years since you’d left Mercedes, Lewis had made an effort to keep up with you. He’d wait for you after the occasional race, text you about results, chat with you on the grid about boring strategy talk. It was mostly small stuff just for you to know that he hadn’t forgotten about you and didn’t want to.

At Ferrari, you’re a saint.

He’s pretty sure he’s never worked with someone so nice in this sport. You're polite over the radios (despite the circumstances), keeping your messages simple and concise, you understand when he doesn’t want to hear it without him even having to say something, and you know just what to say to get him to peak performance.

He’s missed you really.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t really thought much when you left. You were focused on your job and staying with Nico as long as you could.

He still visits, sometimes. When he’s not busy with his big-boy sky sports job.

Ferrari has become your family. When Carlos had gotten replaced, you were honestly devastated to see him go. Four years spent with the same driver, the first time you’d not flip-flopped between them in the off-seasons, and he’s gone just like that.

But Lewis coming in was a different type of excitement.

You’d always admired Lewis. He was the one winning all these championships, breaking all these records, everything he’d done had been monumental.

Of course, he’s also your friend, which helps the joy.

The bond you two have has always been one of thinly-veiled adoration disguised as something much more surface-level. Something without implications.

Something that won't give you a headache the size of McLaren’s ego.

So, you don’t mention the strange tension. You pretend that friends always brush hands when they walk next to each other, always laugh louder when around eachother even when the jokes aren’t funny, always catch each other staring when one isn’t looking.

Lewis never mentions it. So you don’t either.

But anyways, you’re not a fan of Qatar.

It’s hot and sticky and riddled with not-so favorable memories of not winning.

But it seemed most tracks had those memories these days.

You’re supposed to be talking to the engineers about tire wear from the first practice, which had just concluded. The pair of Ferraris were in ninth and tenth and you were tasked with figuring out why the hell two of the best drivers on the grid could barely crack the top half.

But you’re not talking to the engineers, actually. Instead, Charles had dragged you into a long-winded conversation about turn ten that you honestly couldn’t find it in yourself to care about. You had seen the data from turn ten. He was the fastest through it even despite his low speed for the rest of the lap. So, you’re not really talking any of this information to heart. You’re not even his race engineer.

You fan at your face, trying to get rid of at least a little bit of the incessant heat soaking into your skin. You’re sweating and the high-quality fabric of your team polo isn’t making it any better. Charles just won't stop talking.

“The tire wear was causing me to slide into it towards the end of the session and it was slowing me down significantly, almost lost the back end for the last ten laps,” That’s almost some information you can actually use. Though, it’s delivered with a monegasque accent and a sad little frown.

You wave your hand around the air without much aim, shaking your head, “You were fastest in turn ten, Cha. You wanna tell me more about the tire wear though?”

Charles furrows his eyebrows, taken aback, “Really?”

He seems confused, though he quickly pivots to your question, opening his mouth to answer when suddenly Fred walks up, clapping the driver on the shoulder with a grin, “That was shit.”

You snort and Charles sends the older man a glare, trying to duck away when he reaches up to ruffle the driver's hair. You just laugh at the sight, eyes crinkling and lips turning upwards.

They move along, bickering back and forth in the familiar way they do, all muttered Italian and sniping remarks. You laugh, turning away as they walk away.

You face out of the garage, eyes looking toward the pit lane. You scan the now-empty stands, eyes flickering between the few stragglers left waiting for a glimpse of their favorite drivers. You wave at a little girl in a Ferrari hat who looks your way with a grin.

It’s dead hot in this country. Like the kind of hot that makes you want to peel off your shirt and lay down on the cold concrete. You passively fan at your face, trying to at least create a little bit of a breeze for your shining skin.

“Warm?” A voice rings out from behind you, a familiar joyful tone laced into it.

You turn around, leaning against the side of the garage entrance next to you. Your eyes land on a familiar face, Ferrari cap on his head and a red fan in his hand, his wrist flicking as he moves it back and forth. For what it’s worth, he does look like he’s dealing with the heat better than you are.

“Just a bit,” you reply coolly, smiling slightly and crossing your arms as he approaches, “You seem to be doing fine, though.”

He doesn’t respond, just lifts his other hand and tosses you a red fan, identical to the one in his hand. You spread it out, noticing the gold detailing and the Ferrari logo that forms as you do. It’s beautiful. You’re more worried about how well it will deter the heat, though.

As you start to fan yourself, he moves to stand beside you, looking out toward the pit lane. You turn back around to face that way as well, gazing out at the setting sun. It only stands as a reminder of just how long you’ve been here, in the garage, today. A soft sigh leaves your lips. Lewis doesn’t hear it.

“It’s a nice weekend,” he states. You glance his way but his eyes are locked onto the watercolor sky, the rainbow of colors reflected in the shines of his irises.

You hum, “Is it?”

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Got a good feeling.”

You can’t help the way your lips turn up or the way you have to look down to keep them from turning into a grin, “I’m glad.”

Lewis laughs, though you’re not sure why, “Good. I like it when you’re glad.”

You snort. Whatever that means, you wave it away, “Alright, Shakespeare. You should be getting back to the hotel. Get some sleep for tomorrow.”

“Any advice for qualifying, then?” He asks, finally peeling his eyes away from the setting sun and, instead, setting them on you.

You look at him, not avoiding eye contact, “You heard me in debrief.”

“Yeah,” Lewis shrugs, “But I want to hear you say it to me personally.”

You roll your eyes, dismissing the way your stomach flips, “Fine. You need to find some speed in turn three because you’re slow into turn five and turn three is where you have an advantage. You also need to avoid wearing the tires out because it’s causing you to slide into the last three turns and you have the fastest sector three times when you’re not on old tires. Your sector two is fast but it would be faster if you took the inside line instead of the racing line because of the way the car oversteers.”

When you finish speaking, Lewis is just staring at you, a soft smile on his lips, “Thank you.”

You hum, rolling your eyes and turning away from him, grin painted on your lips, “Don’t mention it.”

He doesn’t, for the record. He just stands next to you, flicking the fan back and forth, the movement causing a rhythmic click to be the only sound in the silence. You wave the fan too, just quieter, somehow.

Eventually, you do both depart, off back to the hotel for a night of rest. At least, Lewis will probably get a full night's rest. You’ll be up for most of it, looking at data and going over lap times, checking the strategists work and annotating whatever comments they had sent you for the sessions.

Qualifying is fine. Charles takes turn ten like he had been the whole weekend and sets the fastest time in that sector overall, slotting into fifth. Lewis puts on fresh tires in Q3, finds pace in turn three, takes the inside line in sector two, doesn’t slide in the last sector, and slots into second place. He’s only behind a particularly fast Oscar Piastri but beating any McLaren was a feat these days. The team is happy about the first-row start. You know you are.

But you’re even happier when Lewis finds your gaze after and you can tell he’s giving you the credit. The shine in his eyes says so, at least. Not that you’d tell anyone that.

Race day comes at last and, somehow, it’s the hottest day of the whole weekend. Engineers are drenching themselves in water and strategists have ice packs draped over their necks. Fred walks past with a crappy mechanical fan and you’re pretty sure you see Leo trot past toward a little pup cup of cool whipped cream in Alex’s hand.

You, though, have a red and gold fan clutched in your hand, waving it harshly to try and not die from heat exhaustion.

You’re going over data from qualifying in the pit lane, conversing with Fred about the strategy for the day. His cheap fan is whirring loudly from where he’s set it down on the counter in front of you, positioning himself to still be on the tail end of its breeze. You’d already had the race briefing a while ago. Now, Fred’s just trying to figure out what you’re going to say to Lewis when things inevitably go awry.

Speaking of Lewis, you can almost feel him approach from behind you. When you turn, he’s stood behind you, walking across the pit lane, ice vest against his red fireproofs, sunglasses against his heated face, and curls barely peaking out from under his cap.

Before he can even reach the two of you, you call out, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

His own eyes flicker over your head toward the grid where teams are huddled around their cars and their drivers, “No way, it’s hotter than the sun in that car.”

You snort, “Right, I forgot you’ve been around so long that you can just do what you want at this point.”

“It’s a benefit of the job,” he replies, walking up to lean between the two chairs, an elbow on each one, “Hey, Fred.”

“Lewis,” Fred nods, picking up his fan from the counter, “I’m going back to the air conditioned garage.”

“There’s AC here,” you reply jokingly, gesturing above you at the crappy vents that were half-heartedly installed into the pit lane booths.

“Yeah, right,” Fred rolls his eyes, not even sparing you the effort of turning around to reply as he walks back toward the red garage.

Once he’s out of sight, you turn back toward the screens with a huffed laugh.

“Grumpy old man,” Lewis says from beside you and you laugh, loudly, turning your head to gesture a vague apology to the Mercedes employees next to you who had been disturbed by the noise.

“That he is,” you reply, leaning back in the chair and waving the fan over your face. Though, the small-backed chairs don’t really allow much room for you to lean back.

It’s quiet for a few moments as you watch a replay of Max Verstappens qualifying lap a few times. Max had gotten sixth, uncharacteristically low for the Red Bull driver.

“Watch your oversteer coming out of turn ten towards the end of the first stint,” you mutter, furrowing your eyebrows at the screen.

“Hm?” Lewis replies, seemingly not having been looking at the same thing you were.

“Careful about oversteer out of turn ten with tire deg,” you repeat, replaying the two-second clip over again, “Max was the only one on used tires. They burned all of the available ones getting out of Q2. He oversteered out of turn ten and almost spun into the grass. Be careful.”

You hadn’t discussed turn ten. Rightfully so, the moment was so nondescript that it was barely noticeable. But if Max had let the car go even a centimeter further over the line he would’ve been on the grass and probably in the wall.

“Thanks,” Lewis hums. You don’t turn to him. You just nod.

When you do glance up, you notice many pairs of eyes pointed in your direction. You look up, finally tearing your gaze away from the lap that had entranced your attention. There’s movement on the track. More So than before.

“I do think you actually have to go now, Lew,” you hum, closing the footage of the lap and turning to look at the driver. You assume he’ll be looking where you were, ready to go out on track.

But no, he’s looking at you.

You try not to think about it.

“Lew,” you say softly when he doesn’t move. This gets his attention and he snaps out of it, nodding slightly.

“I’ll be hearing you, yeah?” He grins, backing away toward the gate in the wall.

You nod, “You always do.”

He laughs and turns around, rushing slightly to get through the gap in the fence. You watch as he slides through and, once you see him safely get to the Ferrari crowd, you look back away, leaning back into the pit wall and trying to pretend you’re interested in the lap times ahead of you.

The race itself is uneventful, for the most part. Lewis listens to you, he always does, though. A rookie crashes out on the opening lap. It doesn’t affect the Ferraris so you pay it little mind.

Lewis goes for the overtake on lap six. He gets it. He keeps the lead for the rest of the race. He crosses the finish line first.

After the podium, you ask him about his celebrations. He tells you he’s not going out, citing something about clubbing being a “younger man’s game.” You’re sure he’s still got it in him, though.

You don’t push him about it. You’ve never been one to meddle in the lives of others. If Lewis’s idea of a celebration is trying not to melt into the floor and icing his bad back, then so be it.

“Good race!” The cheerful voice of Fred Vasseur comes loudly from behind you. You spin around to meet the man’s smiling face.

“Thank you, Fred,” you reply coolly, trying not to grimace as the man’s arm slings around your shoulders. It is still entirely too hot in this country.

You pass time with the principal for a while after, talking with the various employees that move past as well. Charles, having gotten third, is in good spirits.

Eventually, you do extract yourself from the liveliness of the Ferrari garage in favor of heading back to the hotel to take a cold shower and pass out in your plush hotel room bed. You can still hear the cheers of the tifosi as you walk along the paddock.

Suddenly, an arm comes up to slither across your shoulders for the second time in the past hour. This time, the arm is painted with intricate inkings. Though, they’re hidden by the sleeve of his fireproof.

“Hello, winner,” you grin, not bothering to turn your head toward the man in question.

You don’t have to see him to know he’s grinning, “Couldn’t have done it without you, you know? Oscar slid coming out of turn ten, I didn’t. That’s what gave me the jump on him.”

“Well I’m glad to know I’m doing my job correctly,” you laugh, leaning just slightly more into his side. It’s now that you realize you’re no longer walking toward the parking lot but, instead, toward the drivers rooms. You don’t really mind enough to say anything.

“It’s never been a worry of mine,” he replies playfully, his tone sure.

“Of course you’re not worried,” you snort, shaking your head, “Being a seven time world champion kinda does make you sure of yourself.”

“I wasn’t talking about myself,” he replies with a hum.

Oh.

You’re not entirely sure what to respond with so you just stay quiet. Though, the quiet isn’t awkward. It’s soft, comfortable. You don’t really think much as Lewis continues to guide you toward where you assume is his room. Maybe you should say something. You don’t really want to.

You reach the door quickly and Lewis pushes it open, peeling himself off of you to allow you both to walk inside.

Lewis’s room is immediately in character. There’s not much in it. Unsurprising considering the circumstances. But there are hints of him.

His clothes from before the race are folded neatly in a stack on the edge of the table in the corner. His helmet and gloves are already sitting beside them. His phone is plugged in to a charger, face up and powered off. His rings are sat neatly beside it.

“Do you want to get dinner?” Lewis has walked into the bathroom at this point, his voice stretching from the other room.

“Hm?” You reply, settling into the couch and picking up the dog stuffed animal that had been sitting on it before. A stuffed animal that looks surprisingly like Roscoe, actually.

“Some of the teams going to dinner to celebrate,” he calls out before he slowly reappears in the doorway to the bathroom, his race suit low on his hips, “Do you wanna come?”

You nod, sliding off your shoes and pulling your knees up toward your chest, “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Lewis watches your actions with a soft grin, seemingly thinking for a second before he nods, his smile stretching wider. He turns around to go back to the bathroom but as he does, he reaches over his head and grabs the collar of his fireproof, pulling it up and over his head.

You look away.

In your head, you’re giving him privacy but maybe it has more to do with the heat rising to your cheeks at an alarming pace.

You look so far away that the top of your head leans against the wall behind you. You don’t fight your eyes as they flicker closed.

“I’m going to take a shower!” Lewis calls, now back in the bathroom.

You grit your teeth, “Alright!”

Jesus Christ.

You’d never really thought much of Lewis like this. You’d seen him shirtless. Everyone had seen him shirtless. Either on the podium or when he walks in the paddock wearing what he would refer to as a shirt but everyone else would call a display of public indecency.

Maybe it’s because those times had all been from afar. But, for some reason, seeing him drag the red fabric over his back had your heart tapping like it never really had before for him.

Lewis had always been there. Always in the paddock, always just across the pit lane, always there. His move to Ferrari had shocked you but you hadn’t expected it to change things. It hadn’t. Not really. Not until now.

You spend the next ten minutes trying to pull yourself together. You eventually manage to calm your twisting stomach and pull out your phone, scrolling passively through emails and messages, plush Roscoe clutched tightly between your knees and your chest.

You set the device down next to you when you hear the bathroom door click open. You thank god you had already gotten yourself together before because you’re not sure how you would’ve reacted now if you hadn’t.

Lewis steps out of the bathroom, towel low on his hips, water droplets still running down his chest.

Jesus Christ. Again.

For the first time since you’d met him, you get the chance to really look at Lewis’s tattoos. Of course, you could’ve just googled them but that feels like a weird line you’re not going to cross. They’re pretty. You’d never noticed many of them. For some reason, they just make Lewis feel so human.

You try to pretend you’re not staring as Lewis steps around the room, grabbing his clothes out of one of his several suitcases and strolling back to the bathroom like you didn’t think he was insane.

A few minutes later, the door opens and Lewis steps out, pants now on, thank god. Though, he has his shirt half-on which isn’t particularly helpful for your situation.

“Can you help me with the clasp?” He asks, widening his eyes just slightly and gesturing toward the back of his shirt, “I can’t get it.”

You take a moment but you nod, setting Roscoe down and getting up from the couch. You pad lightly toward Lewis who turns away from you.

It’s a very Lewis shirt. All sheer and silk and lace settling against his chest and not really leaving much to the imagination.

You slowly lift your hands, gazing at his tattoos through the fabric. You finally reach the clasp, the nape of his neck the only part of his back truly exposed by the gap in the fabric. Your eyes trail over the skin, admiring the intricate inkings. But, they catch.

“Lewis,” you say almost breathlessly, fingers just barely hovering above his skin, tracing the air in a continuous pattern, “What is this heart on your neck?”

You see him pause. It’s almost as if he’s debating what response he’s going to give you. Eventually, he responds, “My soul mark.”

He’s resigned in the way he says it. As if this will make you run away in fear. As if this is the end of your knowing him. He doesn’t know how wrong he is.

“Lew…” you trail off, your voice almost desperate. Your eyes won’t leave the mark and you can feel your eyes welling despite your attempts to push this deep down inside yourself.

Lewis Hamilton. Your soulmate. The man who had always been there, always been around, eternally meant for you.

Your eyes are forced to leave the mark though, when Lewis turns around, peeling the shirt off over his head and practically throwing it at the floor, no regard for where it lands.

“I’ll get a different shirt,” his voice is stern but you notice the slight shake that he’s desperately trying to hide.

“Lew-“ you say, tone practically pleading. You reach forward and grab his wrist before he can fully walk past you and he doesn’t try to pull himself away. He just looks away, shirt clutched in his fist.

You don’t let go of his hand after silence falls between you. Instead, you pull his hand up, stepping forward slightly. You place your hand over the back of his, your other hand gently wrapping around his wrist.

He doesn’t look your direction. Though, he doesn’t try to move away.

You just watch his face, a practiced mask hiding the turmoil in his soul. You slowly raise his hand, stepping within his reach. Gently, so kindly, you place his hand on the nape of your neck. You can see his brows furrow.

You slide his palm slowly until you reach the mark you had become so familiar with. You can feel his fingers twitching as he slowly seems to sense the shape under the warmth of his tattooed hand.

You watch as the tenseness in his features fade and it’s replaced by a slight furrow in his eyebrows. The tip of his finger starts to trace the edges of the heart. You don’t loosen your grip on his wrist.

He finally looks up, shock evident on his face, “Yn-“

He pauses, clearly unsure. He looks you in your eyes for the first time since he’d asked you to button his shirt. Slowly, he pulls you into his grasp, wrapping an arm around your torso. Then, only once you’re firmly in his grasp, he melts. You can feel his entire body relax and you shift to just let him hold you closer. His arms wind tighter around you.

You stand there like that for a while, nothing but the sound of your breathing to keep you company.

“Love,” Lewis pulls away just slightly, moving his hand to rest against the side of your face. Lewis had called you love before. It was his default after just your first name. But this time, it feels like more, “Can I- can I kiss you?”

You let out a sound half-way between a laugh and a sigh. A smile pulls at the edges of your mouth and you don’t have to force the nod that shakes your head side to side.

Then, his lips are on yours. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve felt before. But, at the same time, it feels so deeply familiar. It feels so Lewis. It feels like the guy you had a crush on nine years ago but could barely talk to without getting nervous and then also getting a rant from Nico. It feels like the man who says “good day for a race” over the radio every single time you ask him to check in. It feels like the man who asked you to button his shirt. As if he couldn’t just do it himself.

It’s warm, hot, really. His hand is still against your neck, tracing a pattern while his other hand is pulling your face closer to his own. Your own arms slither up to wrap around the back of his neck.

Eventually, you have to come up for air, pulling away from Lewis and looking up at the man who has been so intertwined in your very being, forcing himself into every nook and cranny of your life for nine years.

“Still wanna go to that dinner?” You ask, breathlessly.

It breaks the silence and Lewis laughs, eyes fluttering closed before he opens them and looks at you with a kind of tenderness you had only seen him aim at his dog and his car, “Yeah.”

You don’t even have time to furrow your eyebrows before he continues, “Just not with them.”

That gets you. You lean back in, having to fight your smile away to press your lips to his.

Maybe you’d always known it was Lewis. Maybe some part of your brain had recognized that he was your soulmate all those nine years ago and forced you to have a stupid crush on him. You’d thought it was a stupid crush at least. You’d thought you’d gotten over it.

Unfortunately, pressing your lips to his had made your stomach twist worse than when he had met you, shook your hand and squeezed just slightly before he pulled away. Worse than it did when his eyes had caught yours and his other hand rested on the back of your own as he shook.

You’re a goner. But you guess you don’t mind being gone for him.

Later that night, after a long dinner filled with memories and laughs about things that haven’t happened yet, Lewis drops you off at your room.

Or, at least, he tries to drop you off. It’s no one’s business if you catch his wrist and drag him in behind you before you slam the door.

When you fall asleep, it’s just four hearts, intertwined.

——

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119 @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie

[sunrizef1]

manchild!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Ex!Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Cheating

Authors Note: idk

Requested: No

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selenagomez been there 💌 so proud of you girl 🫶

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user1 lol

user2 get his ass

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user4 where does my girl keep finding these absolute children to date???

user5 louder for the people in the back 🗣️

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popgoss has Yn finally found a driver more her speed? The “manchild” singer was spotted getting quite cozy with seven-time world champion, Lewis Hamilton, in London today!

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user14 she really went from manchild to a real man

user15 I’ve always preferred Ferrari

user16 oh thank god, she looks so good in red

user17 wait… I ship

user18 a MAN

user19 Lando’s somewhere crashing out

user20 the better driver won

user21 stream manchild!!!

user22 her getting with Lewis has to be so devastating for Lando

user23 like seeing your crush get with your cooler older brother lol 😭

user24 lando who????

user25 she WANTED him to see this lmfao

user26 Lando’s gonna start thirst-trapping again I can’t

user27 Lando getting cooked on every platform rn

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user29 are those LEWIS’S TATTOOS????

user30 I spy father!!!!

user31 love her fully pretending this is a soft launch when we all know who that is

user32 LEWIS!

user33 I’m willing to bet Lewis took that third picture

user34 I hear Lando screaming in the distance

taylorswift happy for you!

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[sunrizef1]

manchild!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Ex!Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Cheating

Authors Note: idk

Requested: No

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ynln turns out love can’t fix emotional immaturity

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selenagomez been there 💌 so proud of you girl 🫶

danielricciardo can’t wait for the diss track

user1 lol

user2 get his ass

oliviarodrigo amen 🙏

user3 girl why did lando like 😭

user4 where does my girl keep finding these absolute children to date???

user5 louder for the people in the back 🗣️

taylorswift 🤍

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user6 yall see Lando’s comment???

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popgoss has Yn finally found a driver more her speed? The “manchild” singer was spotted getting quite cozy with seven-time world champion, Lewis Hamilton, in London today!

load comments…

user14 she really went from manchild to a real man

user15 I’ve always preferred Ferrari

user16 oh thank god, she looks so good in red

user17 wait… I ship

user18 a MAN

user19 Lando’s somewhere crashing out

user20 the better driver won

user21 stream manchild!!!

user22 her getting with Lewis has to be so devastating for Lando

user23 like seeing your crush get with your cooler older brother lol 😭

user24 lando who????

user25 she WANTED him to see this lmfao

user26 Lando’s gonna start thirst-trapping again I can’t

user27 Lando getting cooked on every platform rn

user28 they are genuinely so hot together

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user29 are those LEWIS’S TATTOOS????

user30 I spy father!!!!

user31 love her fully pretending this is a soft launch when we all know who that is

user32 LEWIS!

user33 I’m willing to bet Lewis took that third picture

user34 I hear Lando screaming in the distance

taylorswift happy for you!

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user35 lewisssssssss

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[sunrizef1]

manchild!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Ex!Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Cheating

Authors Note: idk

Requested: No

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ynln turns out love can’t fix emotional immaturity

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selenagomez been there 💌 so proud of you girl 🫶

danielricciardo can’t wait for the diss track

user1 lol

user2 get his ass

oliviarodrigo amen 🙏

user3 girl why did lando like 😭

user4 where does my girl keep finding these absolute children to date???

user5 louder for the people in the back 🗣️

taylorswift 🤍

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lando not everything has to be public

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1 I tried to warn you

user6 yall see Lando’s comment???

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user8 wait! I love 😭😭😭

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popgoss has Yn finally found a driver more her speed? The “manchild” singer was spotted getting quite cozy with seven-time world champion, Lewis Hamilton, in London today!

load comments…

user14 she really went from manchild to a real man

user15 I’ve always preferred Ferrari

user16 oh thank god, she looks so good in red

user17 wait… I ship

user18 a MAN

user19 Lando’s somewhere crashing out

user20 the better driver won

user21 stream manchild!!!

user22 her getting with Lewis has to be so devastating for Lando

user23 like seeing your crush get with your cooler older brother lol 😭

user24 lando who????

user25 she WANTED him to see this lmfao

user26 Lando’s gonna start thirst-trapping again I can’t

user27 Lando getting cooked on every platform rn

user28 they are genuinely so hot together

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load comments…

user29 are those LEWIS’S TATTOOS????

user30 I spy father!!!!

user31 love her fully pretending this is a soft launch when we all know who that is

user32 LEWIS!

user33 I’m willing to bet Lewis took that third picture

user34 I hear Lando screaming in the distance

taylorswift happy for you!

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user35 lewisssssssss

user36 who’s the most competent driver on the grid? 👀… exactly. Lewis.

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ynln 💋

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[sunrizef1]

manchild!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Ex!Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Cheating

Authors Note: idk

Requested: No

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lando added to their story

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ynln turns out love can’t fix emotional immaturity

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selenagomez been there 💌 so proud of you girl 🫶

danielricciardo can’t wait for the diss track

user1 lol

user2 get his ass

oliviarodrigo amen 🙏

user3 girl why did lando like 😭

user4 where does my girl keep finding these absolute children to date???

user5 louder for the people in the back 🗣️

taylorswift 🤍

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lando not everything has to be public

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1 I tried to warn you

user6 yall see Lando’s comment???

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user8 wait! I love 😭😭😭

user9 my country queen

user10 this is Miss Americana

taylorswift summer of Yn!

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popgoss has Yn finally found a driver more her speed? The “manchild” singer was spotted getting quite cozy with seven-time world champion, Lewis Hamilton, in London today!

load comments…

user14 she really went from manchild to a real man

user15 I’ve always preferred Ferrari

user16 oh thank god, she looks so good in red

user17 wait… I ship

user18 a MAN

user19 Lando’s somewhere crashing out

user20 the better driver won

user21 stream manchild!!!

user22 her getting with Lewis has to be so devastating for Lando

user23 like seeing your crush get with your cooler older brother lol 😭

user24 lando who????

user25 she WANTED him to see this lmfao

user26 Lando’s gonna start thirst-trapping again I can’t

user27 Lando getting cooked on every platform rn

user28 they are genuinely so hot together

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load comments…

user29 are those LEWIS’S TATTOOS????

user30 I spy father!!!!

user31 love her fully pretending this is a soft launch when we all know who that is

user32 LEWIS!

user33 I’m willing to bet Lewis took that third picture

user34 I hear Lando screaming in the distance

taylorswift happy for you!

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danielricciardo 👀

user35 lewisssssssss

user36 who’s the most competent driver on the grid? 👀… exactly. Lewis.

user37 upgraded

selenagomez 💌

lewishamilton 🙋🏽‍♂️

ynln 💋

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TWITTER

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Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie

[sunrizef1]

manchild!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Ex!Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Cheating

Authors Note: idk

Requested: No

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INSTAGRAM

lando added to their story

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ynln

liked by lando taylorswift and 12,011,124 others

ynln turns out love can’t fix emotional immaturity

load comments…

selenagomez been there 💌 so proud of you girl 🫶

danielricciardo can’t wait for the diss track

user1 lol

user2 get his ass

oliviarodrigo amen 🙏

user3 girl why did lando like 😭

user4 where does my girl keep finding these absolute children to date???

user5 louder for the people in the back 🗣️

taylorswift 🤍

liked by author

lando not everything has to be public

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1 I tried to warn you

user6 yall see Lando’s comment???

——

ynln added to their story

lewishamilton liked your story ♥️

alexandrasaintmleux liked your story ♥️

carmenmundt liked your story ♥️

georgerussel63 liked your story ♥️

charles_leclerc liked your story ♥️

jackantonoff liked your story ♥️

selenagomez liked your story ♥️

oscarpiastri liked your story ♥️

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ynln added to their story

lewishamilton liked your story ♥️

alexandrasaintmleux liked your story ♥️

alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story!

alexandrasaintmleux

His loss 😍

ynln

Ily 💋

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ynln

liked by taylorswift lando and 32,078,188 others

ynln f**k my life! ‘Manchild’ - out now 💋

load comments…

user7 VOCALSSSSSS

user8 wait! I love 😭😭😭

user9 my country queen

user10 this is Miss Americana

taylorswift summer of Yn!

liked by author

charles_leclerc im gonna stay out of this one… 🫣

user11 imagine being lando and fumbling this diva

user12 AMENNNNNN

user13 it’s giving chappel

lewishamilton 👏

liked by author

oscarpiastri 🎶🎵

lando really?

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TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln added to their story

lewishamilton liked your story ♥️

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MESSAGES

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popgoss

liked by user1 user2 and 324,871 others

popgoss has Yn finally found a driver more her speed? The “manchild” singer was spotted getting quite cozy with seven-time world champion, Lewis Hamilton, in London today!

load comments…

user14 she really went from manchild to a real man

user15 I’ve always preferred Ferrari

user16 oh thank god, she looks so good in red

user17 wait… I ship

user18 a MAN

user19 Lando’s somewhere crashing out

user20 the better driver won

user21 stream manchild!!!

user22 her getting with Lewis has to be so devastating for Lando

user23 like seeing your crush get with your cooler older brother lol 😭

user24 lando who????

user25 she WANTED him to see this lmfao

user26 Lando’s gonna start thirst-trapping again I can’t

user27 Lando getting cooked on every platform rn

user28 they are genuinely so hot together

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

liked by lewishamilton oscarpiastri and 8,616,544 others

ynln I like my men competent

load comments…

user29 are those LEWIS’S TATTOOS????

user30 I spy father!!!!

user31 love her fully pretending this is a soft launch when we all know who that is

user32 LEWIS!

user33 I’m willing to bet Lewis took that third picture

user34 I hear Lando screaming in the distance

taylorswift happy for you!

liked by author

danielricciardo 👀

user35 lewisssssssss

user36 who’s the most competent driver on the grid? 👀… exactly. Lewis.

user37 upgraded

selenagomez 💌

lewishamilton 🙋🏽‍♂️

ynln 💋

——

TWITTER

——

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie

[sunrizef1]

manchild!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Ex!Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Cheating

Authors Note: idk

Requested: No

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

lando added to their story

——

TWITTER

——

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

liked by lando taylorswift and 12,011,124 others

ynln turns out love can’t fix emotional immaturity

load comments…

selenagomez been there 💌 so proud of you girl 🫶

danielricciardo can’t wait for the diss track

user1 lol

user2 get his ass

oliviarodrigo amen 🙏

user3 girl why did lando like 😭

user4 where does my girl keep finding these absolute children to date???

user5 louder for the people in the back 🗣️

taylorswift 🤍

liked by author

lando not everything has to be public

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1 I tried to warn you

user6 yall see Lando’s comment???

——

ynln added to their story

lewishamilton liked your story ♥️

alexandrasaintmleux liked your story ♥️

carmenmundt liked your story ♥️

georgerussel63 liked your story ♥️

charles_leclerc liked your story ♥️

jackantonoff liked your story ♥️

selenagomez liked your story ♥️

oscarpiastri liked your story ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln added to their story

lewishamilton liked your story ♥️

alexandrasaintmleux liked your story ♥️

alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story!

alexandrasaintmleux

His loss 😍

ynln

Ily 💋

——

MESSAGES

——

TWITTER

——

MESSAGES

——

TWITTER

——

——

——

MESSAGES

——

TWITTER

——

MESSAGES

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

liked by taylorswift lando and 32,078,188 others

ynln f**k my life! ‘Manchild’ - out now 💋

load comments…

user7 VOCALSSSSSS

user8 wait! I love 😭😭😭

user9 my country queen

user10 this is Miss Americana

taylorswift summer of Yn!

liked by author

charles_leclerc im gonna stay out of this one… 🫣

user11 imagine being lando and fumbling this diva

user12 AMENNNNNN

user13 it’s giving chappel

lewishamilton 👏

liked by author

oscarpiastri 🎶🎵

lando really?

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln added to their story

lewishamilton liked your story ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

MESSAGES

——

INSTAGRAM

popgoss

liked by user1 user2 and 324,871 others

popgoss has Yn finally found a driver more her speed? The “manchild” singer was spotted getting quite cozy with seven-time world champion, Lewis Hamilton, in London today!

load comments…

user14 she really went from manchild to a real man

user15 I’ve always preferred Ferrari

user16 oh thank god, she looks so good in red

user17 wait… I ship

user18 a MAN

user19 Lando’s somewhere crashing out

user20 the better driver won

user21 stream manchild!!!

user22 her getting with Lewis has to be so devastating for Lando

user23 like seeing your crush get with your cooler older brother lol 😭

user24 lando who????

user25 she WANTED him to see this lmfao

user26 Lando’s gonna start thirst-trapping again I can’t

user27 Lando getting cooked on every platform rn

user28 they are genuinely so hot together

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

liked by lewishamilton oscarpiastri and 8,616,544 others

ynln I like my men competent

load comments…

user29 are those LEWIS’S TATTOOS????

user30 I spy father!!!!

user31 love her fully pretending this is a soft launch when we all know who that is

user32 LEWIS!

user33 I’m willing to bet Lewis took that third picture

user34 I hear Lando screaming in the distance

taylorswift happy for you!

liked by author

danielricciardo 👀

user35 lewisssssssss

user36 who’s the most competent driver on the grid? 👀… exactly. Lewis.

user37 upgraded

selenagomez 💌

lewishamilton 🙋🏽‍♂️

ynln 💋

——

TWITTER

——

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie