The Goodest Boy

Paolini out. Lewis only scoring 6th and being overtaking by a Kick Sauber. Max crashing into George. What a Sunday🙃

But you always gotta look on the bright side of life. Isack Hadjar did great and is happy, and if he’s happy I‘m happy. Alcaraz did the kindest thing and is (once again) my hero and won!! And so did Iga!!

just a little boy and his fifth grand slam

Ollie: We have three projects, nine essays and five presentations due tomorrow. It's time to suffer, right Kimi?

Kimi, chugging 3 cans of energy drink simultaneously: Mama didn't raise no bitch, it's time to gain this grain

Actually the most beautiful podium today, two divorced gay dads who want each other dead and their whimsical son

Happy fathers days

A Gewis press conference on the 1st of May, 2025 at the Miami GP

the duality of being a sincaraz fan hitting extra hard rn

Who’s doing it like Sir Lewis Hamilton ??? Nobody.

This was everything🥺 thank you for writing this it was lovely and so emotional. Funnily, just yesterday I literally thought about a fic exactly like this and that I would love to read said fic and now here it is! Great work!!

P9 - Lewis Hamilton

Summary: a Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader one shot. Lewis joins Y/N at their hotel after getting P9 in the qualis of Bahrain.

I spent the last few days working on another one shot, which will be posted in the next few days, but I was inspired last night after seeing Lewis’ interviews 🥺 Feedback is appreciated! Enjoy

The door of your hotel suite opened suddenly as you were in the middle of eating your meal at the dinner table. Lewis and you had been texting back and forth since the end of the qualifications in Bahrain and he was obviously very upset and hard on himself. He appeared in the doorway, sadness written all over his face. You quickly swallowed the food that you were chewing and stood up slowly.

“Hi, baby,” you made your way towards him and when he looked at you it was obvious that he had cried. The sad expression on his face was killing you. You had seen all the post quali interviews and heard him on his radio apologizing profusely to his team. You knew Lewis and it was pretty obvious he was beating himself up for his performance. “Hey,” was all he said, and you hugged him tenderly. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer to him strongly. You heard him breathing heavily “shhh. I got you, baby,” was all you could say at first. The disappointment had been more intense each week, and you felt powerless seeing the man that you loved just not succeeding at what he did best. You planted a few kisses on his neck, your hands caressing his back slowly. You felt how tense he was.

“You will be fine no matter what. I believe in you, honey, we all do,” he shook his head no and pulled away from you. “I’m sorry. It’s been such a shitty week, nothing has been working for me,” “I know, I know. Things will get better eventually, let’s be patient,” “I was supposed to do better than p9, my first try wasn’t even right,” he furrowed his brows and looked down. “It happens, it’s okay,” he focused on his phone for a second and then looked up at you “‘it happens’ won’t work, I’m ruining it all. Going to Ferrari was supposed to change everything for me but I keep failing. It’s all coming from me, it wasn’t coming from Mercedes and it clearly wasn’t coming from Ferrari either,” “It’s a new car-“ he interrupted you directly “the car is way better this weekend, and Charles did a great job with it. The problem doesn’t come from the car, it comes from me,” “I’m just saying that you’re not used yet to driving a Ferrari in F1, babe. There’s muscle memory and a lot of other things that can’t be erased after just a few weeks, even for you. Give yourself some time,” he avoided eye contact and pulled back, putting his backpack on the floor, “I’m sorry babe, I just need a moment to myself. I’m going to run myself a bath, and maybe I’ll make a few calls with the team. I need to figure something out, something needs to change, otherwise I’m fucked,” he focused on his phone again, clearly texting.

“Is there anything I could do to help you?” He looked up to you quickly “no, I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you knew Lewis’ behavior was nothing personal and it was only the reflection of how he was feeling about himself, in that moment. He was so hard on himself and he had such high expectations for himself, and you knew that would never change. He took off his shirt and went in the bathroom of the suite with the most spacious bath. “Do you want to eat something? I could order room service for you,” you said almost shyly in the doorway. He was starting to take his pants off, the water from the tub already running. “I’m not hungry, thank you,” you nodded and closed the door behind you, giving him more privacy.

You made yourself comfortable in bed, doing nothing but scrolling on TikTok to distract yourself. Two boiling hot teas were on the bedside table, just in case Lewis wanted one as well. You had been hearing him talk on the phone with his team for about an hour, when it all went quiet. A few minutes later, Lewis got out of the bathroom wearing a towel around his waist. You heard him make his way to the bedroom and you waited until he got closer to the bed to look up.

“I made you some tea, in case you want some. Careful, it’s boiling hot,” he forced himself to smile and thanked you. “I’ve been talking with the team, they’ve been super understanding to me.. but at the end of the day, I’m the driver and I have to do my job, which I haven’t been doing,” you stayed silent and opened your arm for him to join you in bed, which he did. He laid down on his tummy “Sometimes I think..” he buried his face in the crook of your neck for one second and then rested his head on your chest, looking at your phone screen absentmindedly. “.. I think maybe people are right and I should’ve taken the easy way out and just left F1 last December,” he admitted. Your hand landed on the back of his head, your fingers caressing his hair gently. “.. but you’re not the kind of men who prefers to do easy things, are you?” “No, I’m not” “and I’m no F1 driver, but I know being a 7-time World Champion isn’t an easy thing,” “it’s not,” he sat up on the bed, facing you. He still had the same sad expression on his face, which was devastating to you, but you told yourself you had to be positive for him in these kind of situations. You took his hand “be patient with yourself, Lew. Just because it isn’t working so far doesn’t mean you’re doomed. Hard work pays off no matter what, you know that babe. Things may not be happening in your timing, but it’s still going to happen. I believe in you, always,” a sad smile appeared on his lips and he kissed your hand. “I’m just so gutted, I thought things would be different by now,” “it will be. You’ll see; you’ll have a different perspective on things tomorrow morning,” “uhm.. I’m not looking forward to that.. I can’t believe this is where I am in my career. I know tomorrow is going to be hell for me. And the pressure that I feel from the media is insane, too. Those dumb fucking interviews..” he sighed and shook his head, looking down at your hand holding his. “I know, honey,” you didn’t know what more to say. Oh, the love that you had for this man. You hated seeing him defeated and powerless. Lewis had such a sweet, kind, genuine, passionate energy in your every day life. He was wanted to succeed so bad at Ferrari. You knew he deserved better. “Anyway, thank you for the tea, and for being you,” he forced himself to smile again and leaned in for a kiss. “I love you,” he added, and pecked your lips. “Anything for you, Sir. I love you, too,”

The poses I pull out after begging my friend to take a picture of me: