#Why do you think Hamilton was so successful?

[patheticblorbloscholar]

I need more proshots. No more turning musicals into movies. I swear if they make a Hadestown musical movie I will scream. We don't want another Into the Woods. Please. Just give us the proshots.

[silentreigns]

I have been reading too much of what people have been saying about Lewis's move to Ferrari recently. And I can't take this honeymoon phase seeiously at all. I genuinely like both Lewis and Charles but I am gonna root for Lewis first and foremost. He needs to take back his 8th championship more than Charles needing to get his maiden F1 championship. I feel like there's going to be a lot of the Lecfosi who are praising LH now will turn against him next year, regardless of if he outperforms Charles or not.

[pucksandpower]

Black Widow

Toto Wolff x black widow!Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton and George Russell are convinced you’re trying to kill their team principal, and, to be fair, you do have a trail of seven dead extremely wealthy husbands behind you … but it’s not what they think, you promise

The soft beep of medical equipment provides a rhythmic backdrop as you sit beside the ornate mahogany bed, your manicured fingers intertwined with those of your latest husband, Reginald Worthington III.

At 89 years old, Reggie, as you affectionately call him, is by far your oldest conquest yet. His wrinkled face, now gaunt from months of illness, still manages a weak smile as he gazes at you.

“My darling,” Reggie wheezes, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hope you know how much joy you’ve brought to these final months of mine.”

You lean in, your silky hair cascading over your shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Reggie. The pleasure has been all mine.”

It’s not entirely a lie. While you don’t love Reggie — or any of your previous husbands, for that matter — you’ve grown fond of the old codger. He’s certainly been the most amusing of your elderly spouses.

Reggie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, a ghost of the rakish playboy he must have been in his youth. “Now, now, my dear. We both know this has been a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I do hope I’ve provided some entertainment along the way.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a delight, darling. Truly.”

As if on cue, Reggie is seized by a coughing fit. You quickly grab a glass of water from the bedside table, helping him take small sips until the spasms subside. When he catches his breath, he fixes you with a serious look.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. About the will.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face carefully neutral. “Reggie, please. We don’t need to discuss such morbid topics.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to admire the wallpaper. Now listen, because this is important.”

You lean in closer, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

Reggie’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “In addition to the usual — the houses, the cars, the offshore accounts — I’m leaving you my stake in the Mercedes Formula 1 team.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “The racing team? Reggie, I had no idea you were involved with-”

He cuts you off with a wheezy laugh. “Oh, my dear. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Did you think I made my fortune selling denture cream?”

You can’t help but smile. “Well, I did wonder about all those trophies in your study.”

“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “But this, this is my crowning achievement. A 33% stake in one of the most successful F1 teams in history.”

Your mind reels at the implications. This is far beyond anything you’d anticipated when you’d set your sights on Reginald Worthington III.

“Reggie, I ... I don’t know what to say.”

He pats your hand affectionately. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just promise me you’ll make the most of it. I’ve always admired your ambition. It reminds me of myself at your age.”

You lean back in your chair, studying the old man before you. In that moment, you feel a surge of genuine affection for him.

“I promise, Reggie. I’ll make you proud.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, tell me about the others. I want to know how I measure up to my predecessors.”

You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Are you sure? It’s quite a list.”

Reggie’s eyes sparkle with interest. “My dear, I’m on my deathbed. Regale me with tales of your conquests.”

With a theatrical sigh, you begin. “Well, if you insist. Let’s see ... first, there was Harold.”

“Ah, the virgin husband,” Reggie interrupts with a knowing nod.

You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that?”

He winks. “I have my sources. Go on.”

“Right. Well, Harold was a sweet man. A bit naive, perhaps, but genuinely kind. He left me his tech startup. It wasn’t worth much at the time, but I sold it for a tidy sum a year later.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “Smart move. Who was next?”

“After Harold came George. He was ... intense. A retired army general with a penchant for war stories and expensive scotch. Left me his collection of rare military memorabilia.”

“Fascinating,” Reggie murmurs. “And the others?”

You tick them off on your fingers. “Let’s see ... there was Joaquin, the passionate Spanish chef. He left me his Michelin-starred restaurants. Then came Dmitri, the Russian oligarch. That was ... an experience.”

Reggie chuckles. “I bet it was. What did he leave you?”

“A series of shell companies and a rather gaudy yacht. I sold the yacht, kept the companies.” You pause, lost in thought for a moment. “After Dmitri was William, the British lord. Lovely man, terrible teeth. Left me his crumbling estate and title.”

“So you’re technically a lady now?” Reggie asks, amused.

You nod. “Lady Y/N, at your service. Though I don’t use the title much. It tends to raise questions.”

“Understandable. And the last one before me?”

Your expression softens slightly. “Ah, that was Hiroshi. Japanese tech mogul. Brilliant mind, but so lonely. I think I was the first real companionship he’d had in years.”

Reggie studies you carefully. “You were fond of him.”

You nod, a bit surprised by the lump in your throat. “I was. He ... he understood me, I think. More than the others.”

There’s a moment of silence as Reggie processes this information. Finally, he speaks. “And what did Hiroshi leave you?”

You smile wryly. “His AI research company. It’s been ... interesting, to say the least.”

Reggie nods slowly. “Quite a collection you’ve amassed, my dear. But tell me, what drives you? Surely it’s not just the money.”

You’re taken aback by the question. No one has ever asked you that before. You take a moment to gather your thoughts.

“I suppose ... it’s the challenge of it all. The thrill of reinventing myself with each new husband, of navigating these complex worlds they inhabit. And yes, the wealth is nice, but it’s more about what I can do with it.”

Reggie leans forward, intrigued. “And what is it you want to do?”

You pause, realizing you’ve never really articulated this to anyone before. “I want to make a difference. Real, lasting change. These men, they’ve all built empires in their own ways, but they’ve been limited by their own mortality. I don’t have those limitations yet. I can take what they’ve given me and create something ... more.”

Reggie’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, now I see why I was drawn to you. You’re not just a pretty face or a clever mind. You’re a visionary.”

You feel a flush of pride at his words. “I try to be. Each husband has taught me something new, given me tools I never had before. Harold showed me the potential of technology. George taught me strategy. Joaquin, the importance of passion in one’s work. Dmitri, how to navigate the murky waters of international business. William gave me a glimpse into old-world power structures. And Hiroshi ... well, he opened my eyes to the future.”

Reggie nods slowly. “And what have I taught you, I wonder?”

You smile softly. “Patience, Reggie. The long game. And the value of a good sense of humor in the face of adversity.”

He chuckles weakly. “Well, I’m glad I could contribute something to your education. Now, about this F1 team ...”

You lean in, eager to hear more. “Yes?”

“It’s more than just a racing team, you know. It’s a pinnacle of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity and the constant push for improvement. I think you’ll find it fits quite well with your ambitions.”

You nod slowly, mind already racing with possibilities. “I can see that. The technology, the global platform, the prestige ...”

Reggie grins. “Exactly. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find husband number eight in the paddock.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Reggie. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”

He winks. “Someone has to. Now, promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you say, and you’re surprised to find you mean it.

“When you’re accepting that championship trophy — because I know you will — wear something fabulous. Give those stuffy old men in the paddock something to talk about.”

You can’t help but grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to shake things up a bit.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “That’s my girl. Now, I think I need to rest for a bit. But don’t go far. I want to hear all about your plans for world domination when I wake up.”

As you watch Reggie drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Sadness at the impending loss of this charming old rogue, excitement at the unexpected opportunity he’s given you, and a renewed sense of purpose.

You glance at your reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Lady Y/N Y/L/N, soon-to-be racing magnate. It has a nice ring to it.

As you settle back into your chair, you begin to plan your next moves. The motorsport world won’t know what hit it.

***

The sleek boardroom of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzes with hushed conversation. Around the polished mahogany table, team executives and board members huddle in small groups, their voices low and urgent.

Toto catches snippets of conversation as he reviews his notes for the meeting.

“Did you hear? She’s actually coming today,” whispers Bradley, the team’s financial officer.

Sarah, head of marketing, leans in. “I can’t believe Reginald left her his stake. What was he thinking?”

“Probably wasn’t thinking with his head, if you know what I mean,” chuckles Thomas, the technical director.

Toto clears his throat, silencing the gossip. “Let’s keep things professional, shall we? We have important matters to discuss today.”

As if on cue, the boardroom door swings open. The room falls into an immediate, almost eerie silence as you stride in, turning heads with every click of your Manolo Blahnik heels against the polished floor.

Toto finds himself holding his breath, caught off guard by your presence. He’s seen photos, of course, but they didn’t do you justice. Your tailored Armani suit exudes power and confidence, while your eyes scan the room with a shrewd intelligence that sends a shiver down his spine.

You take your seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Toto. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I’m not late.”

Your voice, smooth as silk with a hint of amusement, breaks the spell. The room erupts into a flurry of awkward greetings and nervous coughs.

Toto clears his throat again, trying to regain control of the situation. “Not at all. We were just about to begin. Welcome, Lady Worthington. We’re honored to have you join us today.”

You smile, a dazzling display that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Please, call me Y/N. We’re all colleagues here, after all.”

Toto nods, fighting to keep his composure. “Of course, Y/N. Shall we begin with the agenda?”

As the meeting progresses, Toto finds himself increasingly distracted. He’s used to being the most commanding presence in any room, but your arrival has shifted the dynamic entirely. Every time you speak, offering insights or asking pointed questions, the rest of the board seems to hold its breath.

“I’ve been reviewing our sustainability initiatives,” you say during a lull in the conversation. “While I applaud our efforts so far, I believe we could be doing more. Formula 1 has an unique platform to drive innovation in green technologies. We should be leading the charge, not just following along.”

Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “With all due respect, Lady- I mean, Y/N, implementing new sustainability measures could be quite costly. We need to consider the bottom line.”

You lean forward, fixing Bradley with an intense gaze. “And what about the cost of falling behind? Of being seen as out of touch with the concerns of younger fans? Sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.”

Toto finds himself nodding in agreement before he even realizes it. “Y/N raises an excellent point. Perhaps we should form a task force to explore more aggressive sustainability options.”

You flash him a grateful smile, and Toto feels his heart skip a beat. He quickly looks down at his notes, trying to regain his composure.

As the meeting continues, you consistently challenge the status quo, pushing for bolder strategies and innovative approaches. Toto watches in fascination as you deftly navigate the complex dynamics of the board, alternating between charm and steel as the situation demands.

During a discussion about driver development, you interject again. “I’ve been looking into our junior driver program, and I think we’re missing opportunities. We’re too focused on traditional racing backgrounds. What about sim racers? Or scouting karters from developing countries? We could be tapping into a whole new pool of talent.”

Sarah, the marketing head, perks up at this. “That’s ... actually a brilliant idea. It could really broaden our appeal, especially in emerging markets.”

You nod appreciatively. “Exactly. And imagine the stories we could tell. The sim racer who became an F1 champion or the kid from a small village who rose to the top of motorsport. That’s the kind of narrative that builds brand loyalty and inspires the next generation of fans.”

Toto finds himself leaning forward, completely engrossed. “I love this direction. Y/N, would you be willing to work with Sarah to develop a proposal for expanding our driver search?”

“Of course,” you reply with a smile that makes Toto’s pulse quicken. “I’d be delighted.”

As the meeting winds down, Toto realizes that the entire dynamic of the board has shifted. The initial wariness towards you has given way to a mixture of respect and curiosity. Even those who seemed most skeptical at the start are now hanging on your every word.

“Well,” Toto says, glancing at his watch, “I think that concludes our agenda for today. Unless anyone has any other matters to discuss?”

The room is silent for a moment before you speak up. “Actually, if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.”

A tense hush falls over the gathering. Toto holds his breath, unsure of what’s coming next.

You stand, your posture relaxed but commanding. “I’m aware of the rumors and speculation surrounding my ... personal life. I want to assure all of you that my presence here is purely professional. I’m not here to cause drama or upheaval. I’m here because I believe in the potential of this team and this sport. I hope that over time, you’ll come to judge me based on my contributions, not on gossip or hearsay.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, and Toto can see the effect it has on the room. Shoulders relax, expressions soften. There’s a collective exhale, as if a weight has been lifted.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Toto says, standing as well. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we look forward to working with you and seeing what fresh perspectives you can bring to the team.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. As the meeting officially adjourns, people begin to gather their things and file out of the room. Toto notices that several board members linger, clearly hoping to have a word with you. He feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy.

Before he can second-guess himself, Toto makes his way around the table to where you’re chatting with Sarah about the junior driver program idea.

“Excuse me,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Y/N, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

You turn to him with a smile that makes his heart race. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

He takes a deep breath, acutely aware of the curious glances from the remaining board members. “I was impressed by your insights today. I think there’s a lot we could discuss further about the future direction of the team. Would you perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner?”

A hush falls over the remaining occupants of the room. Toto can practically feel the weight of their stares, but he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement playing across your features. “Dinner? My, my, Toto. Aren’t you afraid of me? I do have quite the reputation, you know.”

There’s a challenge in your voice, but also a hint of vulnerability that catches Toto off guard. He realizes that beneath your confident exterior, you’re testing him, gauging his true intentions.

Toto meets your gaze steadily, his voice low but firm. “I don’t put much stock in rumors. I prefer to form my own opinions based on what I see and experience. And what I’ve seen today is a brilliant, passionate individual who could be a tremendous asset to this team. That’s the person I’m interested in getting to know better.”

The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response. You study Toto for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spreads across your face.

“Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

Toto feels a rush of relief and excitement. “Eight o’clock sounds perfect. I know just the place.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Toto can’t help but feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something monumental. He’s built his career on calculated risks, on seeing potential where others see danger. Looking at you, he knows that this might be the biggest gamble of his life.

But as you turn to give him one last smile before exiting the boardroom, Toto is certain of one thing: it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.

***

The Monaco Grand Prix paddock buzzes with excitement, a hive of activity as teams prepare for the most glamorous race on the Formula 1 calendar. Lewis Hamilton and George Russell huddle in a quiet corner of the Mercedes garage, their voices low and urgent.

“I’m telling you, mate, something’s not right,” George insists, his eyes darting around to ensure they’re not overheard. “Have you seen the way Toto’s been acting lately? It’s like he’s under some kind of spell.”

Lewis nods grimly, his usual pre-race focus replaced by concern. “I know what you mean. Ever since she came into the picture, it’s like he’s a different person. Always distracted, making decisions that don’t quite add up.”

“Exactly!” George exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice again. “And have you noticed how she’s always around now? At every meeting, every strategy session. It’s like she’s trying to learn all our secrets.”

Lewis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “You don’t think ... I mean, surely she wouldn’t actually try to ...”

“Kill him?” George finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, mate. But look at her track record. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marrying her. And now she’s got her claws into Toto.”

As if summoned by their conversation, you appear at the entrance of the garage, Toto at your side. The team principal’s hand rests comfortably on the small of your back as he leads you through the bustling workspace.

Lewis and George fall silent, watching intently as you make your way towards them. Your designer sundress and oversized sunglasses scream understated elegance, but to the two drivers, you might as well be wearing a black widow’s web.

“Good morning,” Toto calls out cheerfully. “Ready for qualifying?”

Lewis forces a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “Morning, Toto. Yeah, we were just discussing strategy.”

You step forward, flashing a dazzling smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I’m still learning all the intricacies of race weekends.”

George clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not at all. We were just finishing up.”

Toto beams, looking from you to his drivers with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful having Y/N here? She’s already brought so many fresh ideas to the team. I don’t know how we managed without her.”

You laugh, a sound that sends chills down Lewis and George’s spines. “Oh, darling, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure these boys were doing just fine before I came along.”

As you speak, your hand reaches up to smooth Toto’s collar, a gesture that seems innocent enough but makes both drivers tense.

Lewis clears his throat. “Actually, Toto, could we have a quick word? About the, uh, tire strategy?”

Toto looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Y/N, would you mind giving us a moment?”

“Not at all,” you reply smoothly. “I’ll just go chat with the mechanics. I’m fascinated by all this technology.”

As you saunter away, Lewis and George exchange a meaningful glance. This is their chance.

“Toto,” Lewis begins, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a bit concerned. About you, actually.”

Toto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Concerned? What do you mean?”

George jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just that ... well, things have been different since you started seeing her. And given her history ...”

“Her history?” Toto repeats, his voice taking on an edge. “What exactly are you implying?”

Lewis takes a deep breath. “Toto, we care about you. And we can’t help but notice that Y/N’s previous partners have all met with ... unfortunate ends.”

For a moment, Toto just stares at them, his expression unreadable. Then, to their surprise, he bursts out laughing.

“Oh, boys,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I assure you, it’s misplaced. Y/N has been nothing but a positive influence on both me and the team.”

George persists, his voice urgent. “But Toto, you have to admit, the pattern is alarming. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marriage. And now she’s here, learning all about our team, our strategies ...”

Toto’s amusement fades, replaced by a stern look. “That’s enough. I understand you’re worried, but I won’t have you spreading baseless rumors. Y/N is here because she’s a part-owner of this team and because I invited her. End of discussion.”

As Toto walks away, Lewis and George share a look of dismay.

“He’s in too deep,” Lewis mutters. “We need to do something.”

George nods grimly. “We can’t let her hurt him. Or the team. We need a plan.”

Throughout the day, as qualifying unfolds, Lewis and George find themselves constantly distracted. Every time they catch a glimpse of you in the garage or on the pit wall, their imaginations run wild.

During a brief break between sessions, they overhear a snippet of conversation between you and one of the engineers.

“So, if something were to go wrong with the car during the race,” you’re saying, “what would be the most catastrophic point of failure?”

The engineer launches into a detailed explanation of various mechanical vulnerabilities, unaware of the horrified looks on the drivers’ faces.

“She’s gathering intel,” George whispers to Lewis. “Probably planning some sort of accident for Toto.”

Lewis nods, his jaw set with determination. “We need to warn him again. Make him see reason.”

But their attempts to get Toto alone prove futile. You seem to be constantly by his side, your hand on his arm, whispering in his ear. To an outsider, it might look like the actions of a loving girlfriend, but to Lewis and George, every gesture seems calculated and sinister.

As the day wears on, their paranoia grows. They start seeing threats everywhere. When you hand Toto a bottle of water, they’re convinced it’s poisoned. When you suggest he take a look at something in the back of the garage, they’re sure you’re luring him away to do him harm.

Finally, as the sun begins to set over the Monaco harbor, they decide they can’t wait any longer. They need to confront you directly.

They find you alone in the hospitality area, reviewing some papers. As they approach, you look up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Lewis, George,” you greet them warmly. “Excellent qualifying today. You must be pleased.”

Lewis takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Cut the act. We know what you’re up to.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in your eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly am I up to?”

George steps forward, his voice low and intense. “We know about your husbands. All seven of them. And we’re not going to let you add Toto to that list.”

For a moment, you just stare at them, your face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, you burst out laughing.

“Oh,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m here to kill Toto?”

Lewis and George exchange confused glances, thrown off by your reaction.

You lean in, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me tell you a little secret. Those men? They were all terminally ill when I married them. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. They got to spend their last months with a young, beautiful wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play involved.”

The drivers stare at you, speechless. You continue, your tone becoming more serious.

“As for Toto, well, that’s different. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I genuinely care for. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just what I can offer. I’m not here to hurt him or the team. I’m here because I want to be part of something meaningful.”

Lewis and George exchange uncertain glances, their convictions shaken.

“But ... all the questions about the car, the team strategies ...” George begins.

You roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’m a part-owner of this team now, remember? Of course I’m trying to learn everything I can. How else can I contribute?”

As the truth of your words sinks in, Lewis and George begin to feel a creeping sense of embarrassment. They’ve let their imaginations and preconceptions run wild, seeing threats where there were none.

“I ... we ...” Lewis stammers, struggling to find the right words.

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s alright. I understand. My reputation precedes me, and you were just looking out for Toto. I can respect that.”

George rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

You smile, and this time it reaches your eyes. “Apology accepted. Now, what do you say we put this behind us and focus on winning tomorrow’s race?”

As if on cue, Toto appears, looking between the three of you with curiosity. “Everything alright here?”

You stand, moving to his side and slipping your arm through his. “Everything’s perfect, darling. In fact, I think Lewis and George were just about to share some ideas they had for the race strategy. Weren’t you, boys?”

Lewis and George nod, grateful for the out you’ve given them. As they launch into a discussion about tire management and overtaking opportunities, they can’t help but marvel at how wrong they’ve been.

Watching you interact with Toto, they see not a black widow spinning her web, but a woman genuinely in love, bringing out the best in their team principal. They realize that sometimes, people can surprise you. And sometimes, the most unexpected additions to a team can be the most valuable.

***

The soft glow of chandeliers bathes the exclusive Monégasque restaurant in warm light, casting elegant shadows across the faces of Monaco’s elite. Grigori Volkov, a grizzled veteran of the Russian underworld, sips his vodka, his weathered face a mask of careful neutrality as he surveys the room.

His eyes narrow as they land on a familiar figure across the crowded dining area. It can’t be, he thinks, leaning forward for a better look. But there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes that have haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.

You.

Grigori watches as you laugh, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man. He recognizes him vaguely. But what catches Grigori off guard is the easy intimacy between you, the matching wedding bands glinting in the low light.

For a moment, Grigori considers slipping out unnoticed. But curiosity gets the better of him. He signals the waiter, ordering another round of drinks to be sent to your table.

As the waiter approaches with the drinks, Grigori sees your posture stiffen slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they lock onto his. He raises his glass in a small salute, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You lean in, whispering something to Toto. The man looks surprised but nods, and together you make your way towards Grigori’s table.

“Grigori,” you greet him, your voice a mix of warmth and wariness. “It’s been a long time.”

Grigori stands, bowing slightly. “Indeed it has, my dear. You’re looking well. And who might this be?”

Toto extends his hand, his grip firm. “Toto Wolff. And you are?”

“An old friend of your wife’s,” Grigori replies smoothly, noting the flicker of surprise in Toto’s eyes at the word ’wife’. “Grigori Volkov. I knew Y/N back in her Russian days.”

You gesture to the empty chairs. “May we join you?”

Grigori nods, waving expansively. “Please, be my guests.”

As you settle in, Grigori can’t help but study Toto more closely. He’s younger than expected, vital and alert. Not at all what he’d imagined for your latest conquest.

“So, Toto,” Grigori begins, his accent thick with amusement, “how long have you and our dear Y/N been married?”

Toto smiles, his hand finding yours on the table. “Just over two years now. Best decision I ever made.”

Grigori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two years? My, my. That’s quite impressive.”

You shoot him a warning look, but Toto just looks confused. “I’m not sure I follow. Why is that impressive?”

Grigori chuckles, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Oh, forgive me. I just meant that Y/N here has always been something of a ... how do you say ... free spirit? Never one to be tied down for long.”

You interject quickly, “People change, Grigori. I’ve found what I was looking for.”

Grigori nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Indeed they do. And what of your ... other interests? The ones you inherited from dear Dmitri?”

Toto’s brow furrows. “Dmitri? I’m afraid I don’t know much about Y/N’s ex-husbands.”

“Ex-husbands?” Grigori repeats, feigning surprise. “Oh, but Dmitri was special, wasn’t he? After all, not every day one inherits a slice of the Bratva.”

The color drains from Toto’s face as he turns to you. “The Bratva? As in, the Russian mob?”

You sigh, shooting Grigori a glare that could freeze vodka. “It’s complicated, darling. And very much in the past.”

Grigori leans back, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Oh, come now, Y/N. Surely your husband deserves to know the truth? About your colorful past, your string of deceased husbands, your unexpected rise to power in certain ... shall we say, unofficial circles?”

Toto looks between you and Grigori, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”

You take a deep breath, squeezing Toto’s hand. “Toto, there are parts of my past I haven’t told you about. Not because I wanted to keep secrets, but because I wanted to leave that life behind.”

Grigori interjects, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Oh, but my dear, can one ever truly leave such a life behind? Especially when one has risen to such ... prominent positions?”

Toto’s eyes narrow as he looks at Grigori. “And what exactly is your role in all this?”

Grigori smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Let’s just say I’m an old associate of Dmitri’s. And by extension, of Y/N’s. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still among the living, Mr. Wolff. Our dear Y/N has quite a reputation, you know.”

You slam your hand on the table, your voice low and dangerous. “Enough, Grigori. That’s not who I am anymore.”

Grigori holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely ... surprised. After all, your previous husbands weren’t quite so fortunate. Or so young and vigorous.”

Toto’s jaw clenches, his eyes darting between you and Grigori. “I think it’s time we left.”

As you stand to leave, Grigori calls out, “Oh, but we’ve only just begun to catch up. There’s so much your husband doesn’t know, Y/N. About the power you wield, the empire you inherited. Don’t you think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married?”

You turn back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. “The truth, Grigori, is that I left that life behind. I found something real, something worth living for. And if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into that world, you’ll regret it.”

Grigori leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that a threat, my dear?”

You smile, cold and sharp. “Consider it a friendly warning. From one old friend to another.”

As you and Toto walk away, Grigori can’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He’d forgotten, in the years since you’d left Russia, just how formidable you could be.

He watches as you and Toto have an intense, whispered conversation by the exit. To his surprise, instead of storming out, Toto nods, takes your hand, and leads you back to Grigori’s table.

“Mr. Volkov,” Toto says, his voice steady and controlled, “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation. About Y/N’s past, about your ... association, and about how we move forward from here.”

Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Well, well. It seems you’ve found yourself a man with a spine, Y/N. Very well, let’s talk.”

As the three of you settle back into your seats, Grigori can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Toto. Most men would have run for the hills by now, but here he is, ready to face the truth head-on.

“So,” Grigori begins, pouring fresh vodka for all of you, “where shall we start? With Dmitri? With the Bratva? Or perhaps with the mysterious deaths of Y/N’s previous husbands?”

Toto takes a sip of vodka, his eyes never leaving Grigori’s. “Let’s start with the truth. All of it.”

You sigh, your hand finding Toto’s under the table. “Alright. Dmitri was my fifth husband. He was a high-ranking member of the Bratva, and when he died, I inherited his position and his connections.”

Grigori nods approvingly. “She’s being modest. Y/N didn’t just inherit Dmitri’s position — she expanded it. Forged new alliances, eliminated rivals. She became a force to be reckoned with in our world.”

Toto looks at you, his expression unreadable. “And the other husbands?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “They were all older men, all terminally ill. It was a business arrangement. They got to spend their last months with a young wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play, I swear.”

Grigori chuckles. “Oh, come now. There were rumors, whispers of poison, of accidents arranged just so ...”

You whirl on him, your eyes flashing. “Rumors started by people like you. People who couldn’t believe a woman could gain power without resorting to murder.”

Toto squeezes your hand, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

You turn back to him, your expression softening. “Because I wanted to leave it all behind. When I met you, I saw a chance at a real life, a real relationship. I didn’t want my past to taint that.”

Grigori watches this exchange with growing fascination. He’s never seen you like this — vulnerable, open, genuinely in love. It’s... unsettling.

“And now?” He asks, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “What becomes of your empire, Y/N? Your power? Your connections?”

You straighten, your voice firm. “I’ve been systematically dismantling it all. Using the resources to fund legitimate businesses, charitable foundations. I’m out. For good.”

Grigori leans back, genuinely surprised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re really walking away from it all.”

Toto speaks up, his voice steady. “We’re building something new together. Something honest, something we can be proud of.”

Grigori studies them both for a long moment, then throws back the last of his vodka. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve actually done it. You’ve found a way out.”

You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “I have. And I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word. Y/N Wolff is retired. Permanently.”

Grigori stands, straightening his jacket. “Consider it done, my dear. But know this — there will always be those who remember who you were, what you were capable of. Be careful.”

As he turns to leave, Toto calls out, “Mr. Volkov?”

Grigori pauses, looking back. “Yes?”

Toto’s voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath the surface. “If anyone from Y/N’s past tries to cause trouble for us, they’ll have to deal with me. And I assure you, I can be just as formidable as my wife when necessary.”

Grigori studies Toto for a moment, then breaks into a broad grin. “I believe you, Mr. Wolff. I really do. Take care of her, won’t you? She’s one of a kind.”

As Grigori walks away, he can’t help but shake his head in amazement. You, the Black Widow of the Bratva, settled down and in love. Will wonders never cease?

He glances back one last time to see you and Toto deep in conversation, your hands intertwined on the table. There’s an openness to your expression that he’s never seen before, a vulnerability that speaks volumes.

For the first time in years, Grigori feels a twinge of envy. Not for your power or your wealth, but for the genuine connection you seem to have found. As he steps out into the cool Monaco night, he wonders if perhaps it’s time for him to consider a change of his own.

After all, if the infamous Y/N can find redemption and true love, maybe there’s hope for an old dog like him yet.

[ham1lton]

DREAM GIRL.

pairings: jude bellingham x reader.

faceclaim: maya jama <3

summary: being the personal assistant of sir lewis hamilton has been the highlight of your career so far, even when he has you fetching organic vegan dog food for roscoe at six in the morning. but that was expected, what wasn’t expected was a certain english footballer taking an interest in you.

author’s note: shout out to my jude girlies! this one is for u! it’s also technically the 29th where i am, so happy twenty first to jude! now part of a series.

— wanna be tagged in any future works? fill out my taglist!

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

liked by landonorris, yourbestie and 78,928 others.

yourusername: days lately 💐

view all 10,739 comments

user1: THE LEWIS PIC 😭😭

lewishamilton: you’re fired.

-> yourusername: this is the ninth time you’ve fired me this week.

-> landonorris: i’ll hire you y/n.

-> lewishamilton: shut up norris. don’t steal my assistant.

-> yourusername: I’VE BEEN REHIRED AGAIN WOOOOOO!

user2: why is yn the most entertaining f1 related person.

user3: guys, who is she??? she’s stunning!

-> user4: yn yln! she’s lewis’ assistant and practically family at this point. she’s been with him since she was 18. she just had her 24th birthday so they’ve worked together for almost 6 years! she’s so funny and if you’re a fan of lewis, you should definitely follow her!

charles_leclerc: roscoe and leo playdate when?

-> yourusername: roscoe is booked up for the unforeseeable future i apologise.

-> alexandrasaintmleux: oh no 😢

-> yourusername: suddenly he has an opening!!!! just for alex.

-> alexandrasaintmleux: yay! i’ll message you 😊💐

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

liked by lewishamilton, judebellingham and 233,938 others.

yourusername: btw if you catch your girl smiling at her phone it’s probably something i posted. your girl thinks i’m hilarious and loves me more than you 🤷🏾‍♀️

view all 27,127 comments

carmenmmundt: caption is true!

-> yourusername: kissing you virtually <3

user1: i love yn sm.

-> user2: did u see her vlog for the lv event?? she feeds us sm. shirtless lewis in the beginning, jude bellingham in the background of the event and her posing with central cee at the end. she’s collecting british boys like she’s getting paid for it.

user3: marry me yn!!!!

lilymhe: roscoe is judging tf out of you 😭

-> yourusername: he hates to see me shine 😔

user4: YOU LOOK SO GOOD IM FROTHING

user5: why is jude in the likes omggg???

roscoelovescoco: you’s my favourite’s 🐶

-> yourusername: love u sm my baby 😢

user8: is it truly a yn post without a roscoe pic?

*liked by yourusername.*

user6: all the wags love yn. i need wag!yn expeditiously.

user7: can you even post this?? won’t you get fired?

-> yourusername: idk. take it up w/ my boss lewishamilton.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

START INSTAGRAM LIVE. (5K WATCHING)

YN: hi guys!! how are we all doing? you okay?

user1: YN I LOVE YOU!!

user2: im good!

user3: where are you?

YN: i’m currently in madrid right now for a event that lewis is involved in. i love madrid. much different to drizzly england.

user4: omg perfect timing.

user5: your bf is in madrid rn.

user6: god aligned your chakras 😍

YN: my bf???? guys i don’t have a boyfriend.

user7: you do now. boyfriend distribution system has done its job and he’s hot! and rich! and successful!

user8: lmfaooo ur face 😭

YN: who are you guys talking about. i promise you, i am single.

user9: jude bellingham posted a tweet asking if he could get more screentime in your next vlog 😭

user10: girl he wants you bad 😭

user11: and we don’t blame him!

YN: jude bellingham? the football player? isn’t he like twelve.

user12: he’s 21 girl 😭

user13: cancers rise !! ♋️

YN: i don’t date younger than me! he’s a baby!

user14: you are freshly 24 😭

user15: dw you are not kelly piquet girl 😭

user16: you should date him!!

landonorris: hi 😃👋🏼

YN: hi future boss dude

landonorris: i think you should date jude as well.

YN: et tu, brute?

END INSTAGRAM LIVE. (12K WATCHING)

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

liked by trentarnold66, roscoelovescoco and 1,288,567 others.

yourusername: roscoe took me to the airport and we both sobbed and cried when i had to leave. i could barely enjoy looking at shirtless jude 😔

view all 45,928 comments

judebellingham: it’s okay. you’ll have plenty more chances to see it again.

user1: caption so real 😔

user2: how’s your holiday going?

-> yourusername: great! but i genuinely crave a roast dinner so bad. roast dinner with all the trimmings please and thanks 🙏🏾

user3: i thought you were lewis’ assistant 😭 why are you chilling with jude?

-> yourusername: i am lewis’ assistant but thanks to labour laws, i am entitled to holiday leave. i am on holiday right now.

-> lilymhe: without me? 😔

-> yourusername: sorry babe 😔😔

trentarnold66: thank god. jude wouldn’t shut up about you. so glad you’re together.

-> judebellingham: i’m praying on your downfall. hope your account gets blocked 🙏🏾

landonorris: you’re just on holiday? was hoping you’d been fired so i can hire you 😒

-> yourusername: i only work for world champions. nicorosberg, you hiring?

-> user4: MESSY ASS 😭

-> user5: yn could singlehandedly repair brocedes.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

— taglist: @23victoria @maxlarens @m1892 @stinkyjax @yelenasloverrrrr @tsireyasgf @landososcar @ourlifeforchaos @itseightbeats @xylinasdiary @chelle1306 @velentine @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @f1kenzzz @lavisenri @namgification @hiireadstuff @theblueblub @lifeless-firefly @ctrlyomomma @evie-119 @starz4me1 (found yourself tagged in something you’d rather not be? refill the taglist with what you would rather be tagged in and leave a note at the bottom for me to delete your old form! if you’d like to be removed all together then send me an ask!)

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING PATIENT !!! LEWIS H. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: 945 days after, lewis learned to show his wife that she really was the winner.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), explicit language, british grand prix 2024 spoilers, a little angsty, mercedes to ferrari news, wife!reader (lady hamilton), soft sex, squirting, p in v, oral (f!receiving), body worship-esque, praise kink, hint of breeding kink if you squint, overstimulation, sloppy and short writing tbh.

note: it's sloppy but enjoy regardless xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

945 days. within those 945 days lewis hamilton was in deep denial and grief for his successes in the track.

he wondered where he’d gone wrong, why the team hadn’t done anything to help him get back up there, what he could do next. 

lewis thought of it. in the span of 945 days, lewis made big decisions. he was moving to ferrari in 2025 because nobody valued him enough in mercedes - because he was still seeking for that eighth championship and all they thought about was that he was a lost cause. or at least some people said that his days were over. 

but he knew himself well enough. he was self-assured enough to get back up there.

at least now he knew that the car was fixed. he knew it wasn’t a 'him' thing - it was a car and team thing. he knew it all along, because lady hamilton always told him that.

ah, lady hamilton.

his lovely wife of two years - one who saw him in his ups and downs. but throughout their marriage, what she saw were usually his downs. there were a lot of “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” that she witnessed, sometimes arguing with lewis about beating himself up for something he lacked: success. 

but lewis knew that rome wasn’t built in a day. his wife made sure he knew that. 

now, as he stood on top of the podium with the union jack hanging over his shoulders, lewis found himself thinking through ‘god save the king.’

945 days. a hint of a race win finally came through after 945 days of losing streak and consistent podium finishes without the win.

lewis was the race winner of his home circuit. this was his last race win in his home circuit as a driver from mercedes.

he glanced down beneath the stage, seeing his father, mother and siblings as they celebrated him. but there was really one person that he looked at.

his wife, who was dressed impeccably with the mercedes hat on her head. she had a wide smile on her face, her eyes gleaming in happiness after seeing lewis so emotional. she always loved it when he was emotional in a positive way. 

lewis recalled the days when he made things difficult for her. in those days, she made sure to rid him of those negative feelings too. no questions asked, only helping him through and chatting him out of his bad days. 

945 days of which had mishaps and misunderstandings. 945 days of his falling for her despite his efforts to drive her away. 945 days of patience. 

she was the true winner of all of this even if lewis stood on top of the podium in silverstone circuit.

so how she found herself being worshipped like a goddess, lady hamilton wasn’t sure.

lewis was just all over her and that was it, the tip of his nose briefly touching the sensitive bundle that made her jolt and writhe. 

her hands clutched the sheets beneath her. 

her hips begged to move against lewis’ insistent tattooed hands as he held them down and ate her like she was his last supper. the moans that escaped her mouth sounded like a hymn sung by a one woman choir. 

she was a walking- no- she was a writhing woman who felt more like a divine figure. one that no one knew about but lewis. one that he believed in throughout those 945 days of asking himself, ‘what if it isn’t my time?’

“oh my god,” she whimpered softly, “ngh~ lew~”

“i know, darling,” lewis murmured as he lapped on her, his tongue prodding her entrance. “you want to cum, i know. let me have you first, yea? you taste so fucking good to not devour.” 

his words turned her into a putty. or simply just a liquid that drenched the entire bed.

just as she thought she couldn’t get any more wetter than this, lewis broke the dam down and allowed her to cum all over and taste the trickling liquid that escaped her cunt. 

lewis let out a guttural groan, “fuck, darling. keep cummin’ f’me.” he couldn’t help his fingers, slotting their way through her throbbing walls and prod another orgasm into her. 

she cried out loudly, “fuck!” lewis’ fingers kept moving and coaxing another release from her, her senses being tortured by his sweet love and overstimulation. 

this went on for a couple of minutes, lewis’ eyes darkening in desire and admiration as he watched his wife shake and convulse beneath him. her eyes glistened in haze and tears, no words left in her mouth as her body attempted to descend from the high.

but lewis wasn’t finished loving her yet. he wasn’t done showing his gratitude. he wasn’t done showing her how much she deserved his praises, his respect, his admiration for her patience. 

the briton earned a squeak when he grabbed her hips and tugged her close, precum leaking out of his painfully stiff cock and prodding its way into her drenched pussy. 

“oh,” she let out softly, attempting to embrace process everything as she hummed, “mm…” 

“you’re so good f’me, my sweet darling wife,” lewis murmured softly as he leaned over to press a kiss on her forehead. “my beautiful wife. ever the patient one. always saw me at my worst.”

“mmfh- fuck,” she gasped when lewis’ girth and length filled her empty hole languidly, “yes… oh… god- fuck yes.”

“you’re so fucking good to me- ugh-“ lewis let out a loud grunt, bottoming out inside of her and repeatedly hitting that one spot in the same angle. “always tight and eager for me.”

“only for you,” she whimpered in pleasure, her hands slotting their ways around him with her nails scratching his tattooed back. 

her heels dug into his ass, pulling him closer as if lewis hadn’t filled her up enough to rearrange her insides. 

“yeah?” lewis grunted softly, growling and nipping her neck. “you like that don’t you? you like being good to me?” his thrusts began to roughen and increase their pace as lewis fulfilled his needs to fill his wife up. 

“ngh~”

“i’m gonna fuck you like you deserve it, darling,” lewis crooned softly, his lips attached to hers and tongue tangled with hers. 

her moans travelled from her mouth to his, lewis devouring every single whimper and noise she let out. 

“gonna fuck you until you’re full of me,” lewis said as he gasped quietly and placed a palm on her bare stomach, “‘til you’re full of my baby. you’re gonna be even more beautiful when you’re round. fuck- darling-“ 

if there was anything that both of them learned throughout those 945 days, it was that they kept their promises. 

she promised to lewis that she would be there no matter the storm that came his way. now, he promised her a life that she wanted. it was only fair lewis returned the favour.

especially when his wife was there from the very beginning.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax @youdontknowmeshh @hyneyedfiz @decafmickey @lightdragonrayne @marknolee @xylinasdiary @anotherblackreader

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness @bigsimperika @xoscar03

[cieloclercs]

congrats on your 1K you deserve it‼️‼️

when you have the time could you write for lewis hamilton + nepo!reader ( male or female ) who is an actress / actor?

king of my heart — lewis hamilton

pairing. lewis hamilton x nepo baby!actress!reader

genre. social media au

face claim. gigi hadid

warnings. mentions of age gap, swearing, some online hate, lewis and reader are literally the hottest couple ever, daniel lowkey trolling lando, sex jokes ??, mixed up met gala years sorryyyy, some inaccuracies with race outcomes shshsh

author’s note. hello anon! thank you for being my first request for my 1k event 🥰 i wasn’t sure if you wanted an imagine style thing or not so i’ve gone for a social media au. hope that’s ok ! if not just let me know and i can redo this for you <3

liked by kaiagerber and 4,739,725 others

yourusername when he takes you on a romantic getaway to a private beach island after being away for a month 🥹🥹 lewishamilton i love u bby 💕

view all comments…

lewishamilton Only the best for my Queen 🤍

yourusername 😘😘

username stopppp they’re so adorable 😭😭

username WHEN IS IT MY TURN

danielricciardo get yourself a man who’ll spoil you even though you literally have a higher net worth than him 🤩🤩🤩

yourusername i highly recommend it x

username danielricciardo you looking for a sugar daddy? 👀

danielricciardo why you offering? 😏

username DANNY WTF 😭

landonorris me and who? 👀

danielricciardo your right hand

landonorris wow

username what is in the air in australia today 😭

username sis is winning at life 😔

username wdym lewis is the one who should count himself lucky 🤷‍♀️

username bc his girlfriend’s a nepo baby who’s never worked a day in her life? don’t think so but ok 😂😂

username WOAH WOAH WOAH

username you come for y/n you’ll have to get through ME FIRST BITCH 🔪🔪🔪

username girlie woke up and chose violence yeesh

username you did not just claim an OSCAR WINNING ACTRESS have never worked a day in her life oh my god 😭

*lewishamilton liked this comment

username embarrassing 😳

*lewishamilton liked this comment

username lewis out here defending y/n from the haters 🥹 where can i find a man like that??

zendaya the cutest couple 😍

yourusername thank you my love 😘

tomholland2013 ?? 🤨

yourusername 😐🖕

username team y/ndaya button >>>

*zendaya, yourusername and 5,736 others liked this comment

lilymhe oooh la laaa 😍😍

yourusername my girl 😚

username imagine being able to say you’re dating THE y/n y/l/n i’d never fucking shut up about it

username it’s a good job lewis doesn’t shut up about it then 😭

liked by yourusername and 59,136 others

themetgalaofficial This year’s hottest couple, award-winning actress Y/N Y/L/N and seven-time Formula 1 World Champion, Sir Lewis Hamilton, grace the Met Gala red carpet 🤍

username she’s everything. he’s just ken.

username you did not just call LEWIS HAMILTON ‘just ken’ 😭

username she doesn’t deserve him 🤢🤢

username seriously what does he see in her?? she’s completely talentless. the only reason she’s managed to land ANY acting job is because of her father. she’s a fucking fraud. 🙄

username no need for the negativity honey, lewis still isn’t going to fuck you x

*yourusername liked this comment

username SHE DID NOT 😭😭 WHAT AN ICON

username omg y/n looks like a goddess 😍 and lewis is there too i guess…

username fucking nepo baby. fuck off and blow daddy’s money somewhere else u whore 🖕🖕

username i smell jealousy…

username 😂😂 what’s there to be jealous of?

username maybe the fact that y/n is a thousand times richer and more successful than you will ever be OF HER OWN MERIT…oh and the fact she’s fucking lewis hamilton every night, which you so clearly want to do from the BLATANT jealousy your comments reek of 😘

username ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS

username ma’am, you dropped this 👑

username SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK 🎤🎤

username oh, y/n’s stylist has outdone herself with this one 🤩

username MOM AND DAD

username they’re so 😩😩😩

username i want them both so bad 🫠

username who’s the arm candy in this relationship? 🤔

username i’d say y/n because she’s prettiest…but lewis. it’s definitely lewis.

*yourusername liked this comment

username somehow i just know she walks him like a DOG

yourusername thank you for having us ☺️🤍

themetgalaofficial It’s our pleasure 🤩

username yourusername HEY QUEEN

username even the met gala is an y/n fan

*themetgalaofficial liked this comment

liked by yourusername and 7,241,936 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton The happiest 4 years with my Queen 🤍 Here’s to forever x

view all comments…

yourusername the last picture was uncalled for 🥲

yourusername but i love you with everything that i have to give, my champion ❤️

lewishamilton I’m the luckiest man on earth to call you mine 😘

landonorris this is the sappiest shit i’ve ever read.

yourusername stay salty, lando 😚

danielricciardo landonorris it’s ok, mate, we know you’re doomed to be single for life. here if you ever want to talk x

yourusername danny 😭

landonorris ouch.

username SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP WHEN IS IT MY TURN

username they’re so in love it makes my heart hurt

username the third picture is proof Y/N WALKS HIM LIKE FUCKING ROSCOE 😭😭

username ok but WHENS THE PROPOSAL COMING???

username lewishamilton WHEN??

mercedesamgf1 Happy anniversary to our golden couple 🤩

yourusername thank you admin! 🤍 can’t wait to see you in singapore x

mercedesamgf1 We’re looking forward to it 🫶

username i still don’t like y/n but…this is kind of cute

username now that’s character development 👏

username glad you’ve finally realised !!

zendaya happy anniversary, my loves 😍

yourusername thank you sweetie 😘 come visit soon !

sebastianvettel Happy anniversary! 🤍

lewishamilton ❤️

username omg seb interacting on instagram? what is this parallel universe 🫨

username yourusername lewishamilton YOU GUYS LOOKING FOR A DOG BC I CAN BARK

username girl wtf 😭

username when they have kids they’re gonna be the ultimate milf and dilf 🤩

username STOP i need dilf lewis rn 😭

username MY FAVOURITE COUPLE I LOVE YOUUUU 💕

username it literally feels like yesterday that they first got together 😭

username i knowwww how has it been four years already?

username i want what they have 🥹🫶

liked by lewishamilton and 10,256,947 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername king of my heart 👑

…

lewishamilton 🤍🤍

comments on this post have been limited.

[valyrfia]

On Lewis Hamilton, Ferrari, the immediate past, the long-term future, and why Charles Leclerc will remain Ferrari's priority (contrary to popular belief)

Now that everyone's slowly recovering from the CHAOS of Lewis's Ferrari announcement (and one of the best days on the internet for a while), it's no surprise that we're all starting to ask ourselves...well, how exactly will a Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton line up work? Yes, Charles is Ferrari's golden boy, and has been so even as far back as his record-breaking F2 campaign, and yes, every single WDC of the past half a century rates Charles as a once-in-a-generation driver who would likely have at least one successful WDC campaign under his belt if he were given a half-decent car and strategy. But Lewis Hamilton is...well, Lewis Hamilton. His name and his achievements stand in a class of their own. 7x WDC wins in teams with 8x WCC wins across his career. His name is synonymous with, and often even bigger than, the F1 brand. Surely it's a no-brainer in this driver line-up that Charles is bound to be sidelined, especially as Lewis has made no secrets in the past about his hunt for an elusive eighth WDC.

However, I believe otherwise. I think that Lewis coming to Ferrari was not only accepted by Charles, but actively encouraged and furthermore, Lewis will not be given the n1 driver status by the team. Charles and Lewis at Ferrari will be, at best, equals, but more likely the development informed by Lewis and his experience but skewed towards Charles. To truly dive into why, we need to consider several factors including la mafia monegasque inside Ferrari, the curious case of Charles's old teammates, the emerging details of Lewis's contract, and the true value of what Lewis brings to Maranello. Buckle up, grab yourself a drink and a snack, (spare a prayer for @tsarinablogs who proofread this), and I'll see you below the cut. It's going to be a wild ride.

First things first, even though it's signing Lewis Hamilton, we have had confirmation that this move basically passed through Charles for approval and Charles signed his contract extension KNOWING that his teammate would be none other than Lewis, and he signed anyway. I'm sure this isn't a choice that Charles made lightly, so we have to put ourselves in his shoes, examine his reasons.

Charles has been outspoken about relishing a chance to learn from Lewis. And what racing driver worth their laurels wouldn't? In races that most of us can't bear to watch (Charles and Carlos in Monza 2023, and Max and Charles fights in 2022 come to mind), Charles always emerges beaming and giggling. This man lives and breathes for racing right on the limit, and how better to learn that from THE Lewis Hamilton. But just because Charles wants to learn from Lewis doesn't mean (as some seem to believe) that Charles will suddenly become the Ferrari n2. I trust Charles's judgement in this, and trust that Il Predestinato has unshakeable faith that he will be the one fighting for a title, even if his teammate is Lewis Hamilton. For any worried that Charles couldn't possibly hold his own, well, let's take a little look at how Charles has fared in a teammate battles in the past.

Max Verstappen is more often than not, ridiculed and made fun of for having a teammate curse. And while, yes, he pushed Daniel Ricciardo out of the RBR n1 seat, he sat through the rotating door of Pierre/Alex, and Checo hasn't been having the greatest time. But Max's teammates, more often than not, do have very decent carers after. Daniel basically has a guaranteed ride out of sabbatical right back into the fastest car on the grid next year, Pierre is still around with Alpine, Alex is making some serious waves at Williams and is being touted as a possible replacement for Lewis.

By contrast, Charles tends to destroy the careers of those who have been his teammates in Formula 1. I mean, we only need to take one look at the position that Carlos is now in to see it. At the start of 2023, everything was looking right for Carlos. He had a car that suited him and didn't suit Charles (extreme understeer), he even managed to be the only non-RB driver to win a race in 2023. However Charles, with three more non-classified (DNS/DNF/DSQ) races, still beat Carlos in the WDC at the end of the year, not placing ONCE outside the top 5 in races he finished since the end of the Summer Break. Even in a year that was supposed to be geared for Carlos, Charles humiliated him. Now, no team seems to be jumping at the chance to sign Carlos. Indeed his best option at the moment might be to sign with Sauber, try and build the team around him when it becomes Audi and hope that by some miracle in the first few seasons of this new F1 team it can be at least high midfield. But Carlos is in a sticky situation, he's quite old for a prime F1 driver in the current era, especially considering the extremely talented generation just below him. This news has more or less sealed his fate of not being anywhere near a championship car for at least the next 3-4 years.

Even looking back past Carlos to Seb. Make no mistake of it, Ferrari destroyed Seb's career–but Charles, the upstart young Il Predestinato and the pride of Maranello, is also wholly responsible. He refused to roll over and accept the role of easy-going second driver, despite the car and the team being built around Seb, and won not only his maiden grand prix, but won Monza as a Ferrari driver and finished ABOVE Seb in points in the WDC that year.

It's a fact that flies below the radar, but Charles is ruthless when it comes to his teammates. One thing Charles proved while being teammates with Seb is that he's happy to learn from more experienced teammates, then use their own tricks against them. Charles thrives DESPITE and almost BECAUSE of the adversity and ends up outperforming them and often as a result, if not ending their careers then at least setting them back. While it's almost certain that Lewis's career move AFTER this will be retirement, it's not only foolish but it's plain wrong to assume that Charles will try anything other than to beat Lewis in a teammate head to head, all the while watching and observing what it is that makes Lewis Hamilton a 7x WDC.

While we're on the topic of Charles and his ruthlessness, make no mistake, this Fred Vasseur takeover of Ferrari has been entirely orchestrated by Charles. It's pretty much a widely known fact that Mattia was fired to placate Charles, and Fred was brought in on Charles's request. Not only is Fred Charles's old Sauber boss, but Charles also has a cultural advantage with Fred over his present and future teammates that's worth mentioning, him and Fred share a common mother tongue in French and if they're videoed together, chances are they're speaking it. It's a tiny detail, really, but you tend to have unconcious affinity to those who share your native language. Fred is Charles's man at Ferrari, and this is reflected in not only Fred's words surrounding Charles's contract renewal, but also in the secondary driver signings. Not only does the new reserve driver, F2 FDA prodigy Ollie Bearman, seem very friendly with Charles, but the Scuderia's new development driver, who will spending crucial hours on the sim and in testing, is none other than Arthur Leclerc. This is a team that is deliberately being filled with Charles ride or dies, and it's of little surprise that Carlos found himself pushed out of the nest.

So we've established that Charles wants to go up against Lewis Hamilton, that he's bringing Lewis into a team that orbits Charles like the sun. But what's to stop Lewis from doing to Charles what he did to Fernando in 2008, and Nico in 2013? Even with the strength of Charles's conviction and the team Charles has around him, Lewis Hamilton is Lewis Hamilton. Even if Charles and Fred talk in French, Lewis knew Fred first, and has known him for longer. It's already confirmed that Lewis is bringing engineers and expertise from Mercedes and Lewis could mount a challenge to Il Predestinato at Maranello if he wanted to. So why won't he?

It's simple, Lewis's goal is not to win the eighth, it's something longer lasting.

Now don't get me wrong, if Charles does not match Lewis in the car, and the car is dominant. Lewis will win every single WDC for as long as he and Charles are teammates and he will do so without remorse or regret. If Lewis knows he can outperform Charles, he will refuse to bow to the slightest of team orders. Charles has to keep his end of the bargain and do what Nico Rosberg did in 2016–show that he can beat Lewis Hamilton in equal machinery.

To clarify, I'm sure that winning an eighth, especially with Ferrari, would mean the world to Lewis. Not only would he break a world record, but he'd bring the championship home to Schumacher's old team. It would create a legacy to last, his time in F1 forever immortalised in legend. But what about his life AFTER F1, what sort of legacy does Lewis want to leave there?

I think Lewis is ready to retire. His drive for Ferrari is a swan song, the fulfilment of a childhood dream, but we also have to consider what could have made him decide to not end his career with Mercedes. After all, he's been with them since he was thirteen, been driving for them in F1 for 10 seasons (soon to be 11) and he's been outspoken about that team basically being his family. While there are excellent points about Ferrari possibly being dominant under the new regs in 2026 and car development in Mercedes not listening to Lewis, I believe the biggest factor is what Ferrari could promise Lewis for when his career as an F1 driver comes to a close. Not only did Mercedes refuse to make him ambassador, but Ferrari promised him one of the most expensive contracts in the history of the sport and a joint investment fund to help grow Lewis's own projects in the future. Lewis is passionate about having a platform, in having initiatives to further his causes and it makes absolute sense that he wants to focus on these after his retirement. Ferrari was able to promise him security and freedom after the racing is done, while apparently, Mercedes could offer neither.

So if Ferrari isn't bringing Lewis in on this insane with the goal of winning a world championship, what do they stand to gain from it all?

It's simple, Ferrari is Ferrari yes, but Lewis Hamilton is Lewis Hamilton. The best and the brightest in the F1 world will be flocking to Maranello, lining up outside the gates for a chance to work with him, just as they did to Mercedes in the years past. Just as Ferrari can guarantee Lewis long-term success, Lewis can guarantee Ferrari long-term success. Even if Lewis only stays a couple of years, it is certain that the expertise he brings in will stay longer, long enough to secure Ferrari dominance and many WCCs throughout the new regs and maybe even longer than that. On the chance that Charles can't quite match Lewis and Lewis does get his eighth, he'll still almost certainly get a WDC out of it when Lewis leaves, along with a treasure trove of firsthand information as to the driving and the mindset of the most decorated F1 driver ever, information that Charles will carry on into his career and whoever he may face next.

And Charles will carry on, this is the most important piece of the puzzle. This is why Charles obviously relishes having Lewis as his future teammate, no matter what it will bring. At best, Charles can write himself into history by fulfilling the Il Predestinato prophecy in spectacular fashion, not only bringing glory back to Maranello, but doing so with The Sir Lewis Hamilton as his teammate, and cementing his status as generational talent in indisputable fashion. At worst for Charles, Lewis takes the initial glory of the first championship after the drought, but the subsequent championships will be basically promised to Charles. Lewis will likely not stick around for longer than three years, after which Charles will have a team of incredible engineering and strategic proportions with him at the centre for the rest of his career, which could easily last another decade after that.

Lewis Hamilton is Lewis Hamilton, and him and Ferrari have a lot to benefit from each other, but make no mistake, Charles is the present, and the future of la Scuderia Ferrari.

Lastly, although I'm sure most of you have heard this story, I'll leave you with some words by Sky Sports' Carlo Vanzini as to the origin of Charles's nickname, Il Predestinato.

“It all goes back to an early encounter. He was about 15 and they had brought him to Sky for some media training. We had this meeting and then had a press conference simulation where I asked him something like: ‘You’re starting on pole today but your team-mate is racing for title, what are you going to do?’

“To which he answered, ‘I race to win.’ So we sat there and came up with a more diplomatic answer, something along the lines of ‘I’ll focus on my race, but I will help the team wherever necessary.’

“But then this boy came up to me later and told me the question I had asked was fundamentally wrong because ‘there is no way my teammate will be the one fighting for the championship and not me.'”

[marybeatriceofmodena]

What did Andrew Lloyd Webber do to make Patti Lupone upset? Sorry, saw your tags and i was curious

Oh.

Oh honey.

You sweet child.

Anyway, get ready for one of the most infamous showdowns in all musical theatre history, with the guy who writes the straightest musicals on Broadway (derogatory) and the one and only, the matriarch, the queen, two three-time Tony award winner Patti LuPone.

So, Andrew Lloyd Webber was basically kind of a boy genius in his prime - he met his future collaborator Tim Rice when they were 17 and 20 respectively, he wrote his first big hit, Jesus Christ Superstar, at 22, with Tim Rice writing the lyrics. And it was kind of a big deal at the time because the topic was controversial (you know, the Passion with rock music), but also because Broadway wasn't that far off from its golden age and let's just say the music and style were very different from, say, My Fair Lady. Or The Sound of Music. Or Funny Girl. It was basically the Rent/Hamilton of its time. (Yeah, Stephen Sondheim was around at that time, he worked on West Side Story which was revolutionary in of itself, but he's kind of an oddball in this case. You'll understand why later.)

Their real follow up (I'm not counting Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for a variety of reasons) was a little musical called Evita, which you might know mainly because of a song called Don't Cry For Me Argentina. Or at least, your mom has probably heard it once at the very least. It's that song that's oversung from a musical while being out of context along with I Dreamed a Dream for Les Misérables. Or Memory from Cats.

Evita tells the story of Eva Peron, the wife of an Argentinian dictator, who basically screws her way to the top and ends up becoming the mistress of Juan Peron and the most beloved woman in her country through guile and deceit. Yes, I know the historical accuracy is very much debated but I know jackshit about Argentina's history except the bare basics so don't come at me. It was first produced in the West End in London, with Elaine Paige in the role, but because of Equity issues, she couldn't reprise her role for the Broadway production. So a Julliard graduate who was mostly starring in David Mamet plays got the part instead, and that was Patti LuPone.

Patti... did not have a good time during Evita, because the part is basically the kind of score where you can tell the composer is used to writing male parts, but most female singers have a two-octave range (yes, you got Julie Andrews who used to have a three-octave range, and many others, but they're exceptions), so she struggled a lot. That being said, if you listen to live recordings of her, you wouldn't be able to tell, and it got a lot easier later on. But she had this to say:

"Evita was the worst experience of my life. I was screaming my way through a part that could only have been written by a man who hates women. And I had no support from the producers, who wanted a star performance onstage but treated me as an unknown backstage. It was like Beirut, and I fought like a banshee."

This is from Patti's autobiography, which she wrote in 2007 - 8 years after shit with ALW went down. With all that said, she won a Tony Award for Evita, and she pretty much became a musical theatre household name from then on. She played Fantine in Les Misérables, Nancy in Oliver!, Reno Sweeney in Anything Goes. Meanwhile, ALW's next big hits were Cats (I'm not even kidding, Cats was a hit), and, you guessed it, The Phantom of the Opera, which he wrote in part to showcase his then wife Sarah Brightman's triple threat talents.

So, you need to understand before I continue that ALW, from my perspective, has always had a bit of an inferiority complex. He's basically associated to writing these commercially successful musicals that show a big spectacle but aren't ultimately substantial. I'm not sure I entirely agree with that, but I do think that if he didn't have Hal Prince, Maria Bjornson, Charles Hart and Gillian Lynne backing him up for Phantom, it would have probably been a Rocky Horror Picture Show knockoff people would have forgotten about pretty quickly. This is what I mean:

Yep, that was Phantom before any of the people I mentioned above (and Michael Crawford) were really involved.

Remember how I said Stephen Sondheim was an oddball? The thing with him is that his musicals weren't always commercially successful, but in general, in part thanks to being Leonard Bernstein's protégé, he was generally pretty well-respected and it was considered that his work was bringing musicals to a whole other level. Without Sondheim, you wouldn't have Jonathan Larson, and you wouldn't have Lin-Manuel Miranda. I am convinced ALW is resentful of that, and when you stop and think about it for more than 10 seconds, it's so obvious he REALLY wants to be Sondheim or at least command the same level of respect, but that's a story for another day.

So, after Phantom, ALW had other musicals that followed that either got a meh reception or outright flopped. Then there was Sunset Boulevard, which is based on the movie of the same name with Gloria Swanson. Despite all of her griefs for Evita, Patti LuPone agreed to partake in the musical as Norma Desmond, for its production in London, with the promise that she would transfer to Broadway once that production would open. And overall, after a string of flops, Sunset was actually doing pretty well.

HOWEVER. One day, while reading the gossip column of a newspaper, Patti found out that contrary to what she was promised, Glenn Close, who was meanwhile starring as Norma in the Los Angeles production, was to play Norma on Broadway. That was a complete surprise for her since no one on the production team had bothered to tell her it was happening - and keep in mind that for the news to come up the way it did in a gossip column, it probably would have necessitated a delay of a few weeks between the producers and the newspaper, which would have given them plenty of time to break the news to Patti. And Patti kind of needed the leg up because she was pretty bitter that a) Madonna was cast in the Evita adaptation instead of her; b) they actually lowered the key to fit Madonna's voice range, and she still had to expand her own to be able to sing the (lowered) score. And trust me, Patti is mad about it to this day.

So of course, she trashed her dressing room, the cast and crew weren't even mad about it because they were as shocked and angered as she was by the news. Patti sued Andrew Lloyd Webber for breach of contract, namely for 1 MILLION DOLLARS (yup, those are the real numbers), won, used the money she got from the lawsuit to get a swimming pool, which she called (and I SHIT YOU NOT) the Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool. Since then, Webber is dead to her, to the point rumor has it she had part of a building blocked during an event so she could get out of it without coming across Webber, because she hates him so flipping much she doesn't even want to be in the same building as the guy.

(There's also drama that happened with Faye Dunaway who was supposed to replace Glenn Close after she went from Los Angeles to Broadway, except they abruptly closed the show down after Close left, but that's a story for another day)

So with all the bad press, and with ALW forced to pay 1 million dollars for Patti's lawsuit, that led Sunset's productions to close earlier than expected. ALW has stayed around since, with... mitigated output, so to say. The lowest point for a lot of people is Love Never Dies, the sequel to Phantom, which some people love, and that's fine, but it didn't do well with either critics nor fans of the original show, which ALW is EXTREMELY BUTTHURT ABOUT. And like, there are so many stories I could tell about LND alone, but I will share my own crack theory about it, since it does relate to the ask.

Anyway, buckle up.

So. There have been jokes going around for years that the Phantom in LND is basically ALW's self-insert, where he displays to the world that he's totally not over Sarah Brightman leaving him (in part because making Phantom kinda ruined their marriage lmao), despite, you know, having married since. (Aaaaaakward.) So LND basically becomes this really uncomfortable therapy session where a man writes a self-insert musical about how his ex-wife made a big mistake of leaving a sensitive artistic soul such as himself. The characters from Phantom who appear in LND are all more or less unrecognizable as a result, and one who gets it worse (in my humble opinion) is Meg Giry, who was basically Christine's sweet and loyal ballerina friend who basically went into the Phantom's lair on her own to save her friend despite the danger. In LND, she's basically a bitter hag (because ALW hates women, guess Patti was right about that), who really likes the swim and even has a stripping vaudeville number about it, written in universe by the Phantom, no less.

For comparison, here's Don Juan Triumphant (the Phantom's opera in the original):

And here's Bathing Beauty (the vaudeville number):

Yeah, so... do you see why people hate LND already?

And that's not the only thing with Meg! She's also pining for the Phantom to pay attention to her and threatens to drown the Phantom and Christine's secret love child when he makes it clear that he's gonna love Christine for EVA AND EVA.

So, with everything we learned today about ALW, would someone like him view someone like Patti LuPone as some sort of crazy, bitter diva who's obsessed with him for whatever reason? Absolutely. Would he be petty enough to insert Patti LuPone into his self-insert musical, which gave us the version of Meg Giry we got in LND? Of course. Why does Meg love to swim so much and why does she drag Gustave out ostensibly for a swim? Is it a dig at Patti's Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool? Maybe.

I kind of hope we find out one day if that theory is true. And maybe start a kickstarter so Patti can add this painting from the 2004 movie in her collection.

Fun fact: during the process of casting for the 2004 movie adaptation of POTO, ALW allegedly suggested Patti LuPone to play Carlotta... only for Joel Schumacher to have to awkwardly remind him that they were not on speaking terms. The idea was therefore promptly dropped.

[dpr-stay]

Cupid | LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

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

WC: ~7.7k (kill me now)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it wasn’t a wrong, it was Roscoe pushing you over, which could hardly be considered a wrong and was more the dog testing the things he could get away with.

The real wrong was what Lewis had done to you. You hoped that you could get through the ordeal without talking about it, showing up and then posting a picture to Lewis’s instagram or something about how it was all good to appease the critics.

Except there were no critics, it was just Lewis wanting to have dinner with you. Or maybe it was just Angela trying to meddle. Maybe he was going to try to apologise for him ghosting you? You didn’t know if you would accept it.

You might’ve been able to accept it if he’d been honest from the start, telling you that he wouldn’t want you past the end of the break so you could quickly shut down the relationship before it started and move on with your life.

A thought that’d you always try to flush from your mind sprung to the front of it as you wondered. Maybe you were being too harsh. You’d never explicitly expressed what you were, maybe you had just been overthinking it the whole time you were together. Or rather, not together. 

But that would’ve been unfair to you anyways, you reassured yourself. Him letting you get a taste of his future before exempting you from it was a cruel thing to do to anyone.

A ring from your phone let you know that you should’ve been out the door at this point. You quickly cursed before grabbing your essentials and running to your entryway, pulling your shoes on, before grabbing your keys from the side table. 

After locking your door, you ran down the stairs to your apartment building and hailed a taxi. Luckily traffic wasn’t too bad, so you were able to arrive at the restaurant on time, quickly hurrying inside and getting led to your table.

You never had to worry about being late though, as Lewis wasn’t there when you got to the private booth. It was fine, he came from the other side of town so he’d probably only be a few minutes late.

It was about twenty minutes later you’d sighed and decided to ring Angela. Ironically, she didn’t pick up. You couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that left your throat, shaking your head at the sad reality of your situation.

Ghosted by two members of Mercedes. Maybe it was a good idea for Valtteri to move when he had, otherwise they may have just stopped picking up the phone. You gave him ten more minutes before trying Angela again. The same response. 

At this point you were sick of being made the fool of. Perhaps it was your fault for believing your dispute could be resolved, your fault for believing you were worth showing up for. You stood up with a pressure at the back of your eyes and began the walk from the private booth all the way at the back of the swanky restaurant to the exit.

Before you got even five meters from your table, the door to the restaurant slammed open. Everyone turned to stare at the heavily breathing world champion as he took a second to recoup himself. He didn’t let himself look at anyone in the restaurant as he straightened his suit and turned to the host, who looked a little shell shocked. A quick exchange later and the host stepped back from the little podium he was stood behind. 

You quickly scampered back to your seat, making it just in time and plastering an unimpressed look over your face. Looking back up, you could see Lewis scanning all the patrons of the premises before his eyes paused and locked onto you. 

The simple action of making eye-contact, a luxury which you had refused yourself during your bump with Roscoe, sent a lick of emotion down your spine. You couldn’t exactly read his face, you didn’t know what he was choosing to display or doing unwittingly after being played by him for months, but you believed he was relieved. 

When he arrived at the table he waved off the host with a small ‘thanks’ before sitting down in the seat opposite to you. It was silent for a few seconds, you both continuing eye contact. You were trying to find anything you could recognise in his eyes while he was just looking at you, at your face. 

“I’m sorry for being so late.” He spoke finally, a slight tilt growing at the corners of his lips. You didn’t respond and the awkwardness won him over after a few more seconds, something that was quite uncharacteristic of him. He coughed.

“The lift wouldn’t work, I’d left my keys, then no one would pull over. I tried to call you but my phone died, so I just ran trying to get here.” He said and averted his eyes, a mannerism you’d recognised as a nervous tick the couple of times you’d seen it. You didn’t know how to reply so you let your emotions take hold.

“Your call wouldn’t have gone through.” You said blankly and he looked back to you, before chuckling awkwardly. You didn’t find it funny.

“You would’ve had to unblock me first.” You needlessly elaborated, getting some sadistic enjoyment out of the way the man squirmed. He continued his awkward laughing, you joining in to laugh sardonically.

You didn’t know where this feeling, of needing him to a sliver of the uncomfortableness he’d caused you, had come from. The feeling you got from his discomfort wasn’t pleasure though, it felt empty as though it was pointless in the long run. You supposed it was, he wouldn’t remember you in a few years and your small petty actions wouldn’t even matter when he married the princess of some country. 

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention from your musings to his face.

“I wanted to apologise.” He stated bluntly and you raised an eyebrow. Yeah, no shit. He caught your expression and winced. 

“I should’ve had Roscoe on a tighter leash and not have given him to Angela. It was my fault-” You tuned him out as he continued, shaking your head in disbelief. Yeah sure, it was why the meeting had been arranged, but you’d genuinely thought he might’ve talked about the elephant in the room at some point. Maybe you were judging harshly though. Maybe after a few minutes he’d start talking about the model he’d piped the other day or the Albanian billionaire who wanted to be his sugar mommy.

You’d forgotten that he could read you like a book and had stopped when he realised you were no longer paying attention. He reached over the table to wave a hand in front of your eyes, an action that was very rude, and you reacted accordingly. You turned to face him, affronted, and he smiled at your expression before his face turned serious and he breathed a deep breath.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about what had happened.” He said finally, staring down at the table, and you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your buttons. You started to talk, the words leaving your mouth before you could properly think about them, hurt blurring your thoughts.

“Of course I would love to recount the time I came home and I found my place ransacked.” You said, the fakeness of your enthusiasm leaking into your words causing him to flinch.

“I’d love to talk about the messages I sent you before I realised I’d been blocked. Sure, let’s talk about how, not even two weeks after telling me you thought we’d have a future together, you’d completely left me, without a word of discussion.” You finally let out, almost strangling your throat closed so as to not let more of the hurt out. This was a work-related dinner after all and you didn’t want to draw more attention than Lewis already had.

His face had fallen, an incredibly unfamiliar look coating his face and you tried to stop yourself before you spoke, trying to tame the biting uncertainties in your head.

“Was it because I’d moved companies?” You questioned and he looked up. “Should I not have followed Valtteri?” Your question floated in the air and he shook his head, a sorrowful expression taking over his face.

“Then why?” You asked after a second and he paused, not responding. You, tired of his silence, thought about all the reasons you’d gone over in your head, and settled on the one that made the most sense to you. Looking back, it was probably the most unrealistic, but it made sense to the angry and sad mindset you had.

“Was it because I couldn’t afford everything?” His head snapped up, shock colouring his features. “I could’ve moved to a new apartment if it bothered you, having to stay over at my place. I knew you didn’t do a lot of things that break because I couldn’t pay, but you could’ve told me if you wanted to. I do have a savings account I could’ve dipped into.” You said quietly, looking down at the table, all the fight having been sapped from your body. 

You were tired. You didn’t know what the time difference was between you and Canada, but you were sure that you could set an alarm and wake up to spill your guts to the stranger, it was better than telling anyone you knew. 

Lewis called your name but you didn’t look up from the table, hoping to not see any form of confirmation in his eyes. He reached a hand over the table, this time to not be rude but to lift your chin up and look in your eyes. He contemplated for a second before speaking softly.

“I thought it was what you wanted.” He said and you reared back, completely shocked before he continued.

“You kept going to meetings with Alfa Romeo and I thought it was your subtle way of telling me to fuck off. You know, that you had more important things to worry about than a driver from your old company. We’d never talked about what we were and I just thought…” He paused for a second here, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at the wall before looking back into your eyes.

“I thought I could bite the bullet, leave before you could tell me to go. And it worked in the end, you’ve been doing exceptionally well. I haven’t seen a bad story about Valtteri in months.” He said and withdrew his hand as he leaned back against the chair behind him.  You processed his words for a moment before he cleared his throat, drawing you back to look at him.

“I would never, by the way.” He disclosed quietly and you tilted your head. He continued. “I don’t mind if you have the money or not, for that break your apartment was the best place for me.” 

The use of the present tense threw you off for a second, leaving you to rearrange yourself in your seat and clear your throat as you thought of a response. You couldn’t, opening your mouth but no words coming out. He’d stunned you into silence. You finally found your voice after steeling yourself for a second. “W-what about umm… what was her name?” You asked, a stutter permeating your words. He just sighed, letting his head fall slack to stare at the table. 

“It was a mistake.” He said quietly, and guilt for the poor girl rushed through you. “I thought that after I’d let you go I should at least try to find something as a replacement.” He looked up at you.

“I couldn’t though, no one could match to you. But I couldn’t leave her without a reason.” 

He leaned further back in his seat, his voice terse as he spoke. “She gave me plenty of reason after I caught her in bed with her ex.” You winced at the tone of his voice and gave him a second to collect his thoughts. Even if he was trying to break it off, it’s never a good feeling to be cheated on. 

You spoke up after a second, trying to clear the silence between you and deciding he should know about your fling after you’d ended if this dinner was going to way you thought it was.

“I met a man in Canada.” You said hesitantly and you saw his shoulders drop.

“Oh.” He said quietly, before shaking himself out as if he was a cat and plastering a smile on his face. Lewis made eye-contact and asked you a question.

“What’s his name?” Fake-enthusiasm permeated his question, as though he was trying to hide his disappointment. 

You didn’t want to address that, though you knew you had to. Could you take him back? You didn’t know for sure if he would leave you again, which scared you. The whole idea of taking him back scared you, though the thought of more time with him that wasn’t spent trying to avoid looking his way made you hopeful. You tried not to feel that way, knowing that you shouldn’t base your happiness on the man.

But he had apologised and explained his reasoning. As much as you wanted to curse him out for not talking with you, it did make sense. Feelings of inadequacy were present in every person, no matter how remarkable they were.

Look at you, already being hypocritical over your own words. You’d said you didn’t know if you’d take him back, but now you were already planning it. Was that pathetic? You didn’t like to think it was, but maybe you were wrong, ignoring your dignity in favour of the man.

God, if only the world was more simple and less complicated. If only you hadn’t gotten locked in an elevator, if only Roscoe hadn’t been as adorable as he was, if only you’d said no to this dinner. If only you’d just talked about your feelings from the start instead, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Too late now though, you supposed, snapping back to the present and leveling eye-contact with Lewis. You contemplated your words, knowing they’d probably either be the start or the end of your time with him.

“I don’t remember.” You said finally, staring at Lewis’ face as a smile that he tried to contain spread over it.

“You don’t remember his name?” He asked, almost trying to confirm his words and you shook your head. He couldn’t control his smile, trying to mask it behind a cough. You only started to grin in response, looking into his eyes as they slowly turned back into half-moons.

A cleared-throat startled you both out of your bubble and you turned to the waiter, who looked as if he had just watched a soap opera play out in front of him. He awkwardly held out menus to the both of you and you quickly accepted them, apologising for making him stand awkwardly for so long.

When he’d left you both had looked at each other and exchanged smiles. The dinner had continued and it was as lovely as Lewis himself. That is to say, very lovely. 

After paying and making the walk to Lewis’ house, you both stumbled into Lewis’ abode, not able to keep your hands off of each other. However a large obstacle had stopped you from taking it further, namely the heavy weight of the british bulldog that decided to settle himself on top of you the second you’d walked through the door.

You could barely hear Lewis’s laughter over the sound of Roscoe licking the side of your face, you muffling your own laughter into the carpet. 

When you’d next seen Valtteri, he’d only taken one glance at your neck before shooting you a smirk, the knowing glance he had on his face making you roll your eyes as you pushed him to his interviews.

i got stuck halfway through but i just wanted it overrrr. Hopefully it's not too bad, let me know in the comments.

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Arthur Wellesley:

"So, I saw that you had no propaganda for the Iron Duke himself and thought that should be corrected, because I cannot let this man go unloved.

He is the ultimate sexyman. I don't really get that title or the requirements but I do know this man and he is the ultimate in Regency-era sexiness.

Field Marshal Sir Arthur Wellesley, First Duke of Wellington, whose full list of titles merits its own Wikipedia page, he had so many (including Prince of Waterloo of the Kingdom of the Netherlands), was so well known for his debonairness that he was often called "the Beau" or Beau Wellesley.

Our dear Duke with his eyes of "a brilliant light blue," is quite the underdog made good. The fourth son of an Anglo-Irish aristocratic family, he was a bit of a loner as a child, whose star was eclipsed by the academic success of his older and younger brothers. Yet he had a remarkable talent for the violin, which as we know from Mrs. Jefferson is quite a good quality for a man to have. As a young man he was considered extremely good humored and drew "much attention" from female society. The Napiers of Celbridge thought he was a "saucy stripling" and he was also considered quite mischievous. Yet he also had a rich inner life, reading and contemplating the great philosophers of the day.

Yes, we know about his military victories in the Peninsula (the position of Field Marshal of the British Army and the accompanying baton were created for him) and his success at Waterloo, but he was also both romantic and a ladies' man. (I could go on about the military success but that's not really what this is about, is it?)

Want the romantic side? He fell in love with Kitty Pakenham while a lowly aide-de-camp in Dublin but, with no real position or prospects, was laughed away by her brother when he sought to marry her. In a fit of pique he destroyed his violin and turned firmly toward progressing his career. Over a decade later, after he had made something of himself in India, he learned she hadn't married, supposedly because she was still pining for him. Reader, he married her, despite thinking she'd grown ugly, and got two children from her in less than two years. I'm not kidding, this man was virile. They married in April of 1806, their first son was born in February, 1807, and their second son was born in January 1808. Although he wasn't sexual faithful to her, Wellington wore an amulet she gave him for over twenty years, and was still wearing it when he sat with her on her deathbed. When she was surprised he still wore it, he told her if she'd just bothered to check in the last twenty years, she'd have found it. Despite surviving her by twenty years, the Duke never remarried.

Now, please don't think badly of him for the lack of sexual fidelity. It was the Georgian era. Sexual fidelity was not a part of marriage in high society. Men didn't sleep only with their wives and some wives could be quite happy with that (for one, it's much easier not to have one pregnancy after another when your husband is sleeping with someone else). Not that women weren't also sleeping around. Which brings me to one of Wellington's more… interesting conquests: Lady Caroline Lamb, wife of William Lamb (the future Second Viscount Melbourne and Prime Minister). Why do I know that name, you ask? The OG pixie manic dream girl, Caro's much more notably known for her affair with Lord Byron. After that particular bit of nonsense, she was in Brussels with the rest of the English aristocracy during the 100 Days/post Waterloo. She and the Duke supposedly slept together and she took his cloak away as a souvenir.

Who else did the Duke liaise with? Well, there were the usual flings with actresses and singers, such as La Grassini. As previously noted in another post on this tumblr, he was noted as a stronger, better lover than Napoleon by another of their mutual lovers. Wellington also was a client of Harriette Wilson. He visited her when she was in Paris after the Duke of Beaufort bought her off, though this was before Beaufort stopped paying her, prompting her to publish her memoirs. She canvassed her old lovers, including Wellington, to see if they'd pay her not to be in them. Wellington send her a note in return saying "Publish and be Damned." Something about his succinct dismissal of her is just so hot.

Oh, want a bit more of Wellington being a bad boy? In 1829, while Prime Minister, he got into a duel that still is commemorated almost two hundred years later. King's College, London, was set up while Wellington was also advocating for Catholic Emancipation and this led to Lord Winchilsea publicly insulting Wellington's honor to the point that the Duke (who'd never dueled before or supported dueling generally) called him out. They went to Battersea Fields and settled the matter with pistols. Wellington won and Winchelsea apologized. King's College celebrates "Duel Day" every March.

Even better, want to read about Elizabeth Bennet and the Duke being witty and falling in love? Complete with scenes of the Duke showing he knows what to do with his cannon? Then let me recommend the third variation of An Ever Fixed Mark, A Dalliance with the Duke. I dare you not to vote for him for all eternity with that portrayal in your head."

Emma, Lady Hamilton:

a. “Her boyfriend got bored with her and passed her onto his uncle. Reader, she married him, and started having threesomes with Lord Nelson. She basically bullied her way into social acceptance despite being a former courtesan. Also, she was hot as hell.”

[alasarys]

Recommended books for the drivers from BookPeople, Austin, Texas (insta)

Daniel Ricciardo: Friday Night Lights – "... every Friday night from September to December, when the Permian High School Panthers play football, this West Texas town becomes a place where dreams can come true."

Lando Norris: Assassin's Apprentice – "Fitz ... must give up his old ways and embrace a new life of weaponry, scribing, courtly manners; and how to kill a man secretly, as he trains to become a royal assassin."

Alex Albon: My Brilliant Friend – "... a rich, intense and generous-hearted story about two friends ... a touching meditation on the nature of friendship."

Logan Sargeant: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood – "hilarious, delicious, and brutal"

Yuki Tsunoda: A Cook's Tour – "the unpredictable adventures of America's boldest and bravest chef."

Carlos Sainz: Great American Golf Stories – "some of the best classic writings, both fact and realistic fiction, that reflect the rich history, tradition, agony, and ecstasy of one of our most enduring and endearing pastimes."

Oscar Piastri: Iona Iverson's Rules for Commuting – "It turns out that talking to strangers can teach you about the world around you--and even more about yourself."

Lance Stroll: Infinite Jest – "Set in an addicts' halfway house and a tennis academy, and featuring the most endearingly screwed-up family to come along in recent fiction, Infinite Jest explores essential questions about what entertainment is and why it has come to so dominate our lives; about how our desire for entertainment affects our need to connect with other people; and about what the pleasures we choose say about who we are."

Charles Leclerc: Every Good Boy Does Fine – "[Denk] reminds us that we must never stop asking questions about music and its purposes: consolation, an armor against disillusionment, pure pleasure, a diversion, a refuge, and a vehicle for empathy."

Lewis Hamilton: The Boy with a Bird in his Chest – "A heartbreaking yet hopeful novel about the things that make us unique and lovable, The Boy with a Bird in His Chest grapples with the fear, depression, and feelings of isolation that come with believing that we will never be loved, let alone accepted, for who we truly are, and learning to live fully and openly regardless."

Max Verstappen: Atomic Habits – "Atomic Habits will reshape the way you think about progress and success, and give you the tools and strategies you need to transform your habits--whether you are a team looking to win a championship ..."

Zhou Guanyu: A Visible Man – "When Edward Enninful became the first Black editor-in-chief of British Vogue, few in the world of fashion wanted to confront how it failed to represent the world we live in. But Edward, a champion of inclusion throughout his life, rapidly changed that."

Pierre Gasly: Misery – "He's a bestselling novelist who has finally met his biggest fan. Her name is Annie Wilkes and she is more than a rabid reader – she is Paul's nurse, tending his shattered body after an automobile accident. But she is also his captor, keeping him prisoner in her isolated house."

Valtteri Bottas: Foundryside – "To have a chance at surviving ... Sancia will have to marshal unlikely allies ... and undergo her own transformation ..."

Fernando Alonso: The House of the Spirits – "an enthralling saga that spans decades and lives, twining the personal and the political into an epic novel of love, magic, and fate."

Kevin Magnussen: The Daily Dad – "366 Meditations on Parenting, Love, and Raising Great Kids"

Sergio Perez: Bad Feminist – "an inspiring call-to-arms of all the ways we still need to do better"

Building on the excellent work by @vegasgrandprix and @kritischetheologie

[luchitohamilton]

lewis being interview by margot laffite for canal+ at the qatar gp '23

I act like a kid all the time. I’m not embarrassed about it; I love having fun. So that’s why, you know, I’m always skydiving, surfing or I’m skiing or I’m riding my bike or whatever might be, that’s me being a kid. And that’s something I refuse to ever let go.

transcript below :-)

So Lewis. I don't want today to talk about the World champion, the Formula 1 driver, I would like to talk about Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton, if you don’t mind. Can you describe the kind of kid you were at home and at school? What kind of kid were you?

[Smiling] Did you ever had a show called Dennis the Menace?

Oh yes of course.

You did?

Of that kind, yeah. Denis la Malice.

I was like Dennis the Menace 2.0. [laughs] I was climbing trees, I was just always riding my bike down the fastest hill. Naturally super competitive in everything that I did and, uhm, my dad helped me concentrate that energy into racing and that’s where stability came.

We know you were a huge fan of Ayrton Senna, but did you watch like every single F1 race, documentaries about F1?

No, when I was a kid I only watched documentaries on Ayrton Senna, read his books. Anything to do with Ayrton I would have it, whether it was a coffee mug or, not that I drink coffee as a kid, but I was watching Gran Prix from like since I was like 4 with my dad on the weekends. Yeah, Sunday sitting with my dad watching races was one of the best times, I remember.

If you could go back in time, where and when would it be?

It would probably be when I was living with my mum, before I was 8, so, yeah.

You are running the world so, how difficult is it to build friendships?

Yeah, it’s definitely not the easiest I would say. My two closest friends are from school, yeah, they are my brothers. Places where I’ve found good friendships are obviously on my job, and then when I’m doing music, when I’m working with musicians, it’s just like a different realm and there I’ve built some incredible relationships also.

What does being a grown up mean to you? Is it like tiresome to be more conscious of the impact you have on things and people, rather than the pleasant innocence of being a child?

I act like a kid all the time. I’m not embarrassed about it; I love having fun. So that’s why, you know, I’m always skydiving, surfing or I’m skiing or I’m riding my bike or whatever might be, that’s me being a kid. And that’s something I refuse to ever let go.

When you play a game with some children, maybe your family, nieces and nephews, do you let them win?

No, I try to win! I just [laughs] and they are good, they are getting good, so I have to get my wins while I can. But, my dad never let me win anything when I was a kid. I think is good to learn how to lose anyways, so [laughs]

Are you always on time or sometimes you’re late?

No, I’m always late. The only time I’m ever on time is when I’m getting in the car to race. But like if I’m going for a flight, I’m always late. I don’t know, I like the limit, yeah. [jokingly] I like getting there around the limit, I like the rush.

What are your thoughts and feelings about Max Verstappen? The man he is, the kind of champion.

He’s done an exceptional job. I think the team has done an amazing job. Collectively they truly deserve the success. Max has been faultless this year, he’s not made any mistakes. I only hope that there’s a time when I’ll be able to put up a fight for him.

When you quit F1 would you still want race like Dakar or the 24 Hours of Le Mans?

I currently don't really have any, like, zero, like, feelings to do those things. I love motorbikes, I’ve always loved Moto GP, still love it today. I have 2 super bikes. I think I probably always just gonna take my bikes out. I won’t compete professionally in anything ever again. It takes 10,000 hours to be, you know, a master of something else. I wanna spend that 10,000 hours on being the best dad or something like that, you know, or running my businesses in the best way I can. Where all my energy and focus will go to. For now, I’ll continue to skydive, I’ll continue to surf, those are probably the, riding the bikes, surfing and skydiving, those are the 3 fun things that I’ll make sure I always do.

Merci Beaucoup, Lewis.

Merci.

It was a pleasure as always. Thank you.

[wejustvibing]

Oscar talking about Lewis 🫶🏾 (transcription below)

Q: Do you relish racing these people?

OP: Yes and no. When you're in the car, no. They're just another person you're trying to beat, really. But when you don't have the helmet on, it means a little bit more when you're racing against someone like Fernando or Lewis, just because of the history that they have and the success they've had in the sport. It is pretty cool definitely, but when you're on track honestly they're all the same.

Q: In terms of wheel to wheel combat are they doing different things to other people?

OP: I've crashed with Lewis a couple of times, I feel like both of them weren't particularly my fault but I don't know, maybe he just doesn't like me (😭) But, I mean, not massively different. You kind of know, with that much experience, you know that they're gonna put the car in the right place, the strategy that they're gonna work with their team is gonna be good. From that side of things, you've got to be on your A game, trying to beat them. But, there's also a kind of the mentality of, you can't treat them any differently and you can't have that prejudice because then you're going to race them different. You might race them a bit softer, you might race them a bit harder, both of which can be bad. So you kind of just have to treat them as somebody else.

I think now that I've been in F1 for a year, it's much easier to do that. I think Saudi here last year, I lined up alongside Lewis on the grid and I remember someone showed me the start graphic after the race and I was like "Damn! My second F1 race, alongside Lewis Hamilton. Last year I was watching him line up on the grid and now I'm sitting alongside him, that's pretty damn cool."

Q: And when you do have an incident with someone like Lewis, do you talk about it?

OP: Yeah, the couple of times Lewis and I have had incidents he's been very good. I mean, the one in Monza, he came up to me straight away and shook my hand and said sorry, which you don't get from everyone on the grid. The one in Vegas was a bit of a 50-50 but we spoke about it. We certainly weren't angry or pissed off at each other. We just spoke about what we were trying to do and why it went wrong and stuff. So yeah, from that side of things he's been cool to talk to. You certainly don't get that kind of respect or discussion with other people.

Q: When you think they've done more can 300 grand prix, that's a level of respect as well. Can you imagine yourself doing that?

OP: To a rookie, I don't know. But, Mark (Webber) actually said to me after Monza, you know "if he didn't think much of you, he wouldn't have come and said anything", which I'm going to trust Mark on that one. I feel like it's a good bit of advice or wisdom. But, that's a long time and Lewis has not had that many incidents in his life, so it could be easy for him to brush it off but I had a lot of respect. Of course, I wish that we didn't crash in the first place but I had a lot of respect [for him] being like that.

[lewisinho]

✨lewis hamilton’s most underrated mclaren drives ✨

(with special dedication to: @l8tof1 & @sirlew44)

did a lil’ rewatch over the break and wanted to do a post about some of lewis’ most underrated wins/drives in f1 over the years; i realise that there are a lot of them and so i decided to split and do a post for his mclaren days and another one for his mercedes years.

a few words of introduction:

the thing about watching mclaren lewis and why it’s just such a privilege, is that this boy is special; babyfaced rookie picked from the crèche by ron dennis and who was told he’d be half a second off nando’s pace and that he shouldn’t worry, wasn’t just hungry he had something to prove, he will nawt be a second driver even if it’s to the reigning 2x world champion who has just come from beating THE michael schumacher, basically babes wasn’t having it and he put the fear of god into these drivers…and ron dennis (say what you want about that that man, but you can’t deny, he really girlbossed that one thing; giving lewis a car that was capable of winning, was a choice™️, but a very good one and we thank him for that); mclaren lewis is special because he’s hungry, he’s raw and fast, very fast, sometimes too fast and too reckless, but he’s learning, and when you watch these races and these seasons you see him learn and grow and change; all these seasons are different, but those mclaren years are just as important for the lore and who he is now and to witness the evolution of both the driver and the man is truly special; so this small collection of drives is a bit of a crème-de-la-crème if you will of those races that i think aren’t as mentioned in the pantheon of great lewis drives as much as i think they should, so let us begin:

fuji 2007 🇯🇵 aka the first rain dance of og bald baby mclazza rookie lewis, stunting on hoes since ‘07

people keep talking about silvo 2008 (and rightly so) but this one is a bit of a forgotten wet-weather masterpiece; talk about artistic sublimity, this is the racing sublimity of one 22-year-old rookie lewis hamilton; baby lewis was holding off his reigning world champion of a teammate absolutely majestically in torrential conditions, and executing the race and the restarts to perfection (race is also chaos personified so brilliant to rewatch). baby lew became a bit of a headache for the establishment™️ and one fernando alonso and it’s fun to watch.

germany 2008 🇩🇪aka mclaren pitwall terrorising baby lewis (the horrors started way before merc)

a race overshadowed by his brilliance in silverstone two weeks earlier (suffering from success and having consecutive masterclasses amirite), but it’s nearly as brilliant; this is lewis vs massa + the mclaren pitwall deciding to gamble with some fuckass strategy and leaving lewis out for a safety car restart, lewis having to pull massive gaps, driving the wheels of that mp4-23 and then overtake from p5 to take the lead; some brilliant overtakes and lewis displaying incredible race pace; this drive is the lewis hamilton special that massa had no answer for 

singapore 2009 🇸🇬 aka lewis decided to serve cunt

to truly appreciate the sheer extent of said cunt serving, you have to watch both quali and the race; mind you, the 2009 mclaren was nawt it, the post-updates mp4-24 was still dogshit compared to lil’ sister mp4-23 and very much an underperforming and unreliable shitbox; the updates also came too late for lewis to put up a proper championship fight; however this did not stop from lewis from putting 2 whole ass seconds on his teammate, take pole ahead of the red bulls and the brawns and then dominate the race, with brilliant tyre management and race pace (40 secs ahead of kova, nearly 10 secs ahead of timo glock in p2 in a truly fuckass mclaren)

brazil 2009 🇧🇷 aka the road to legend is long and twisted and the brazilian racing gods clearly have a plan 

p17 to p3; and no you may think this is one of those checo-esque recovery drives where you qualify terribly but have a rocketship so you overtake cars easily and finish the race in a position you should have started the race in; well, the mp4-24 actually qualified terribly in the wet (even post-upgrades, it was also set up for the dry) and was still very much mid on a sunday; lewis however babes was on yet another mission, overtaking cars *mwah* like please watch it; the brazilian racing gods truly picked a chosen one and his name is lewis hamilton i do not make the rules; his lil’ fist punching the air when he crossed the line says everything you need to know about what that drive meant to lewis (also like that boy was starving for a win around interlagos and to think the first one came only in 2016 jeez) the racing gods really wanted to make that man suffer biblically in true chosen one fashion before offering any type of redemption; you see interlagos and lewis is a special narrative, it’s about a boy achieving immortality in his hero’s homeland, and it goes all the way from 2007 to 2021 and beyond, and there are chapters in between, like 2009, that are worth mentioning, because the man is desperate for a win here and he’s getting so so close, hungry mclaren lewis you mean so much to me, he would eat anything and anyone and well,,,interlagos is lewis’ yearning personified

china 2011 🇨🇳 aka he WILL have his win and he will bite and claw his way towards it 

hungry lewis starving for a win with a car that is half-decent is dangerous; this race is *chefs kiss* oh my god, please watch it, baby mclaren lewis on a mission, babes after the race said he doesn’t remember when he last won a race, like wdym it’s only been like 8 months my guy (we’re on two years now); drama starts before the race even begins, because he’s got a fuel problem and is literally mere seconds away from a pit-lane start but no that team and that man were on a mission: three-stopper, overtaking both seb and jb, terrifying race pace! he also gets a bit emotional in the cool down room and hugs seb 🥹

germany 2011 🇩🇪 aka vintage lewis special 

another one where you have to watch both quali and the race, because baby goat was pulling quali laps out of his ass (imo probably one of his best non pole laps): he split the bulls and was only half a tenth from pole (also 1.2 secs ahead of his teammate); bear in mind we’re in the domination era of kinky kylie (rb-7) which took 12/19 victories and all but one pole position, which interestingly albeit unsurprisingly went to lewis in korea): that man was putting his entire lewpussy into those quali laps; now the race, ladies and gents (gn) this is where it gets tasty and spicy and if you want a three-car fight for the win this delivers on all fronts and provides lewis at his very best this is it;

a small (but important) tangent: i do find it slightly disappointing when people overlook lewis’ 2011 season entirely because of his getting outscored by jb; yes, it wasn’t a clean season from him, he made a lot of errors in the races and it’s quite a frustrating watch in general as a lewis fan, but he also had some absolutely brilliant races (i also can’t help but point out a similar trend that has happened with his 2022 season);

but anyway, this is lewis vs webber vs fernando, mclaren vs red bull vs ferrari for the entire race; overcut and undercut strategies happening simultaneously, lewis’ racecraft and defence on webber!!!!, and featuring a great overtake on nando!

+ honourable mention: australia 2009 🇦🇺 aka icarus flew too close to the sun 

you’re prolly wondering why i’m including australia 2009, which is rather infamously known for ‘liegate’; but lewis’ (and mclaren’s) post-race shenanigans overshadow an actually brilliant drive from p18 to 4th (momentarily 3rd bc trulli got DSQ’d which was then reversed lmao; it’s a bit all over the place) in an actually dogshit mclaren that had no right fighting even for top 5; this is pre-upgrades wheelbarrow mp4-24, this is the stuff that makes the w13 look like a prima ballerina, well guess what lewis was the prima ballerina and was putting that mclaren in positions it really did not deserve to even bear witness to; and then there was a bit of a kerfuffle at the fia office (please read up on liegate it’s acc really funny, mclaren spectacularly shooting themselves in the foot 🙄), someone got fired, lewis disqualified, but oh well, shits and giggles innit (hindsight's a wonderful thing)

hope you enjoyed and i also hope this provided some inspiration for a rewatch :) 💜🏎️

[dear-ao3]

okay i just got into f1 at the end of the last season. Can you explain some things to me- a hesitant Mclaren fan??

Basically why is the team so good this year and if Zak has proven the success of rookies, why don’t more teams follow suit? i’m so curious and also i wanna know everything abt Oscar and his war with Alpine?? Is Zak the team principle? why is he always there if not??

This one isn’t abt Mclaren and even tho i know it’s controversial i still don’t really understand but; What exactly happened in Abu Dhabi 2021??

alright so i typed up this whole thing once and then tumblr deleted it so now you’re getting the shorter and more annoyed version, apologies

here we go, more drama this time mclaren edition

zak brown is the ceo of mclaren racing. some ceos are also team principals (horner, i think toto?) but he is not. he’s also not an Owner i don’t think. but basically he’s the ceo of all branches of mclaren racing including f1, formula e, indycar, super e and esports. admittedly, he is a more involved team ceo. like he appears regularly on their social media pages and at the races and on the pit wall and all that, but he’s not the team principal. that’s andrea stella. andrea is in charge of the f1 team, zak is in charge of all the mclaren teams.

teams need three things to do well, good drivers, good car and good team. supposedly this year mclaren has all three.

lando and oscar get along and have proven they are both good drivers. they are on the younger side (lando is 24 and oscar is 22) and i think they’re the youngest driver pairing on the grid, but they have both proven they can do the job. they are also willing to work together, as in, none of them threw a fit if one had to pass the other and also they’re in it for the team first, personal success second. which is key. you can’t have your drivers feuding cause then they do stupid shit (ie nico rosberg and lewis hamilton)

oscar and lando have both driven the car at this point and they said it went well. but most people say the first test goes well. however, they started shit last year and then made upgrades to get better so the general hope this year is that they will start good and get better. i think lando said in one of his interviews that he was something along the lines of cautiously optimistic (he doesn’t like to say he’s confident because then it looks bad if they suck) but we will know more about the car at pre season testing this coming week.

as for rookies. not everyone signs them cause they’re a risk. and if you’re a big team with an good name and reputation then you might not want to risk it. this past year there were three rookies. nyck devries who failed to score a single point at alpha tauri and was swapped out mid season for daniel ricciardo. logan sargent who scored only one point and it was because two people in front of his dnfd. admittedly he was in a williams, but his teammate manages to score 20 something points so. and then oscar, who i think finished with 80 something points ans a few podiums. oscar was in the better car so he naturally did better, but also he still could have flopped tremendously. and that’s why a lot of the bigger teams like to have the new guys proven themselves first in a shit car cause then if they’re in a good car they’ll really do well. signing a rookie tho is a risk, as it’s been a rare occasion for them to win anything or even podium in their first season. and that’s not great if you’re trying to win a title.

when lando was signed to mclaren he had already been involved with the team for a few years. he was in f3 in 2017 when mclaren noticed him and then made him a test and reserve driver in 2018. now some people (haters) point out that Oh Lando Was A Pay Driver until he was in f1. (meaning, his dad is a millionaire and he basically backed him his whole racing career. so he didn’t have to get sponsors because he had his dad. this is basically what lance stroll does) but when he got into f1 he said he didn’t want to do that anymore because he doesn’t think that that’s what you should do in f1. some people think he only got his seat cause of this, but objectively, mclaren noticed his good performance, not the money part and in any case, his dad doesn’t sponsor him anymore. in any case tho, he had already driven mclaren cars in tests prior to getting his seat in 2019. he was also quite young. 18. but he also had a decent rookie year (not quite as good as oscar but also the car was more shit then than it was this past year).

the oscar piastri alpine drama is basically that he was alpines test and reserve driver for 2022, exactly like how lando was for mclaren. alpine was losing fernando alonso for 2023 cause he was going to aston martin and they were like oh this is fantastic we can sign oscar now and give him an f1 seat. oscar had been in the alpine drivers academy for a few years when he was in the junior leagues (which basically means that they sunk a lot of money into his career). however, aparently alpine announced that oscar was driving for them in 2023 before he had signed his contract. and oscar didn’t appreciate this.

mclaren had unexpectedly an open seat after daniel ricciardos contract was terminated early and i guess oscar had been in contract talks with them. because he tweeted this:

which is nothing short of iconic. then alpine tried and failed to sue him for 4M USD. he dodged a bullet by going to mclaren.

and then abu dhabi 2021. without getting into it too much cause that’s insane lewis hamilton and max verstappen went into the race with the same amount of points. it was the last race of the year so whoever won that race was going to win the world championship title. there a lot that happened at that race that was weird but among the weirdest thing was that towards the end of the race there was a yellow flag, and a safety car. which means that all the cars got close to eachotjer again. now, hamilton had a comfortable lead over max at this point because there were five lapped cars between them. basically, those five cars were a lap behind hamilton and verstappen. sometimes on safety cars they allow the lapped cars to unlap themselves (go around the safety car and back to the back of the grid so they’re in the correct order). and for some reason. they allowed only the five lapped cars between hamilton and verstappen to unlap themselves (which is weird and unfair) and thus verstappen ended up winning. the whole race was bonkers and batshit tho and i would highly reccomend watching that drive to survive episode because they actually show the bonkersness pretty well.

[pub-lius]

What do u think about jefferson and Madison relationship?? What were they, and how did the relationship influence both of them?

IM GETTING SO MANY JEFFERSON QUESTIONS KEEP EM COMING i think about him so often, i want to body slam him into a glass window of a 20 story building and watch him fall

I love that you said "what were they" im crying okay anyway

Jefferson and Madison first met when Madison served on the governor's council and Jefferson was. the governor. Madison was facing some political setbacks, so a position on the council was a really good opportunity. Their relationship would remain largely professional for a long period of time.

Jefferson was basically Madison's opposite, physically and personality-wise. Jefferson was always more impulsive and passionate, and he tended to be very informal when he shouldn't have been. Madison, however was more cautious and deliberate. Even in their dress, you could see the difference, as Madison was usually seen wearing simple, professional clothes that were finely tailored and very appropriate for the situation, and Jefferson answered the door in slippers (he's so quirky).

"Jefferson inspired Madison, and Madison moderated Jefferson. Eventually, the two complemented each other's strengths and compensated for each other's limitations." -Noah Feldman in The Three Lives of James Madison

Over time, mostly over the course of their correspondence while Jefferson was in France, they got a lot closer, and confided in each other about mostly everything. The first time I can think of that they discussed personal matters was when Madison was rejected by Kitty Floyd, who he attempted to court, and she moved states to get away from him. Jefferson had encouraged him to court her, but Jefferson was a lot more successful with women than Madison, and it ended horribly. Madison sent him a dejected letter and Jefferson responded being like "...there. there. so sad. poor baby. very sad. okay."

After that, sharing personal things became easier than. whatever the fuck that was Jefferson, oh my god, learn how to have empathy, that's embarrassing. As they got closer, you can see the immersion of one another's ideas into the other person's beliefs. Ron Chernow would tell you that Madison's betrayal of Hamilton wasn't influenced by Jefferson because he wasn't in the country but it ONE HUNDRED PERCENT FUCKING WAS. They were talking when Jefferson was out of the country??? So he didn't need to be in the country to tell Madison that Hamilton's system was corrupt???? and he cites the fact that Hamilton hosted Jefferson at his house when he first arrived, but we KNOW that Jefferson was a fake ass bitch, so that doesn't make sense either.

Anyway, my point is, that Madison went from a leading Federalist to a radical Democratic-Republican as he talked to Jefferson more, and the final break between Madison and Hamilton occurred after Jefferson had been Secretary of State for a few months, so shut the fuck up Ron, you're wrong. Jefferson was an ardent supporter of states' rights, and during the Constitutional Convention, James Madison attempted to smash every effort to prioritize states' rights in the new government. Ofc he wasn't always successful, which is why we have the Senate, but thats neither here nor there. Its clear over the course of their correspondence that their political perspectives merged, and by the time Jefferson was president, they were functioning with one mind. It was during Madison's presidency that you see him start to diverge from Jefferson's influence.

Okay, to address my favorite question, "what were they". To answer simply, they were best friends and colleagues, and worked together to fight their political enemies and to elevate each other to prominence. This wasn't exactly the healthiest relationship, as Madison was often more frustrated with Jefferson, and Jefferson definitely wanted to be around Madison more than Madison wanted to be around Jefferson, but they cared about each other. They were definitely closer than Jefferson and Adams were, as they never had any opposition to one another.

I've seen a few people speculating if they were gay. They weren't. Jefferson had a very distinctive and very direct way of approaching someone he saw as a romantic prospect (usually through sexual harassment) and we see none of this in their correspondence. During their lifetimes, the ongoing rumor was that Jefferson cucked Madison and shared a wife (Dolley) with him. This also wasn't true, the three of them were just close friends, but this is more likely than Jefferson and Madison being gay for each other.

Overall, their relationship really drove American politics at this time, specifically when it came to them teaming up against Hamilton in the early 1790s. Jefferson 100% took advantage of Madison in several cases, and crossed a lot of boundaries. Off the top of my head, I think about how Jefferson basically forced Madison to publish pamphlets refuting Hamilton's, and how he was constantly asking Madison to move in with him when this clearly made him uncomfortable. However, Madison did stand up for himself when he needed to, and he did keep Jefferson at a distance when he pushed his boundaries too much, and I think it was because of this that their relationship lasted so long.

Thank you so much for the ask, this was fun. Hope this helps!!