itsmrshamilton

[itsmrshamilton]

Those armsssssssss

lewis hamilton arrives to the gladiator 2 premiere in los angeles - november 18, 2024 📷 @.whomagazine / tiktok

[itsmrshamilton]

I NEED A PART TWO OF NO APOLGIES IMMEDIATELY QUEEN

I wish I could type faster so I could post it for you, friend!!!!!

It's coming along well, I might even make a part 3. Feel free to guess what might happen. Follow for any updates.

[itsmrshamilton]

No Apologies | LH44

summary: tensions between fem!reader and Lewis rise to an all-time high, forcing one of them to make a very important decision about their relationship. (Angst galore!)

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Y/n was falling asleep on the couch when she heard the keys jingle and the door handle turn. She jolted upright and moved to find the remote to the tv. It was playing a romance movie that she'd been looking forward to watching in theatres but hadn't found the time. When it was released in HD she gave up trying to plan the outing and instead picked a quiet evening to watch, except now she'd missed the whole thing. She sighed in defeat as the end credits began to roll and turned the tv off. She'd have to try again in two weeks when her schedule cleared.

The door was pushed open and in shuffled her husband with a tog bag and rolling suitcase. He froze when he noticed her disheveled state in the dimly lit living room. She stretched out her back then stood up to face him.

"Hey." He whispered, still rooted to his spot. He took in her unruly hair, tired eyes, pursed lips, and wrinkled satin pajamas. She looked like she should have been in bed. And she could have been if he had arrived home at the time he said he would.

"It's 1 am." Is all she said. Arms hanging loosely at her sides, pedicured toes pressing hard into the floorboards to prevent her from doing something she'd regret. She needed answers first.

He didn't reply immediately and the silence grew as her patience diminished.

"1 am, Lewis! I've been up worried because I expected your car in the garage by 10 last night- Is your phone off?!" She whispered harshly at him. Her toes began to hurt and cramp.

Lewis let out a deep sigh and looked away from her watering eyes. He felt bad but he really couldn't do this now. His back was aching and he still had to work tomorrow.

"I couldn't get out of a dinner and the drinks kept coming."

"You're drinking again?" Her hands clenched.

"No, Y/n. Of course not." He huffed in annoyance and removed his jacket.

He looked back at her when he heard her scoff. She glared at him for a second before walking off to the stairs in the corridor. She wanted to talk to Lewis properly. Have a sit down and truly open up but he made it so hard for her to sit and listen when he did things like that.

Lewis sighed once more when she left the room. He was used to her walking off mid argument but this time he was upset that she accused him of drinking again. He thought she knew him better than that. He locked the front door and moved his suitcase to the corner of the room then took his duffle bag upstairs. In their shared master bedroom, Y/n was already under the covers. He wasn't sure if she was awake or not so he took his belongings to the en-suite bathroom to shower and get ready for bed. Upon returning to the room, he was very sure that she was asleep. Her pillow had been abandoned and her small face was smooshed into the mattress. The sight made him feel more guilty. She must have been really tired before she decided to wait up for him.

He climbed in beside her and pulled her close. Her features scrunched in disagreement as her head rested on his tattooed chest, while his big arms wrapped around her figure. She let out a soft snore when he stopped moving and began to stroke her back. He hated fighting with her but it had become a part of their daily routine.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Y/n."

And stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Y/n woke up to an empty bed with the sun high in the sky which meant that they both slept in - Lewis probably because he was out so late and Y/n because her son was at a sleepover with a friend from school.

She stretched and took a second to think about last night. At the moment she felt tired and cranky from running errands yesterday then staying up to wait for him. Thinking about it all made the frustration bubble up again but her growling stomach reminded her of her priorities. Sighing, she got up to get ready for the day, splashing her face with water and brushing her teeth before making her way downstairs in her pjs.

It smelt faintly of pancakes and there were loud sounds of doors being slammed. When she got to the large pink and white kitchen she saw a plate of pancakes on the island, along with a small bowl of yoghurt and fruit. Her husband was crouched, digging furiously through one of the lower cupboards. She took in the state of the rest of the kitchen - sink filled with utensils, fruit peels all over the cutting board, sticky cupboard handles everywhere. She felt very confused by the scene before her, so much so that she began to feel a bit of anger deep down.

"What's going on?" She asked.

He jumped at the sound of her voice and faced her with a frown. She frowned in return, not liking the energy he was giving from the get-go. He let out a loud sigh, leaning back against the counter and gestured half-heartedly to the plate on the island in front of her.

"I was making you breakfast to, uh, apologise," he rubbed his beard. "But I couldn't find the juicer to make orange juice so now it's gone cold."

Her face softened at his admission and her anger slowly dissipated. He was trying to please her.

He slapped his hands on his thighs then straightened up. His face still held the frown but was quickly darkening in frustration, transforming into something more mean. "I would have made you coffee but I couldn't find the coffee machine either."

"I gave it away." She stated calmly. His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"And the juicer?"

She pulled the yoghurt salad closer. "On one of the shelves in the storage room."

"Would have been nice of you to mention that earlier." He grumbled, looking away in annoyance. She stiffened.

"Oh? How? By calling you on the £900 phone you don't use?" Her tone was clipped. The calmness she had earlier fading away very quickly. She was tired of this dance with Lewis - creating a new problem to get away from the consequences of the old one.

"Nothing is where it's supposed to be in this kitchen!" He gripped the edge of the counter.

"Because I don't want things that I don't use in my kitchen, Lewis!" She slapped the island counter nearly knocking the bowl over but managed to straighten it.

He stared at her, in disbelief of her tone and the volume of her voice. She eyed him back taking careful breaths.

"Your kitchen." He repeated. She started picking off the fruit from the yogurt and eating it slowly.

"Yes, my kitchen. I am the one who makes breakfast, lunch and dinner in here every day, all week." She replied bluntly. The fruits were now finished but they had taken the edge of the hanger she had felt when she woke up.

Lewis just looked at her in silence. The disbelief wiped off his face and replaced with a neutral look. A poker face he used when he tried to find appropriate responses for difficult interview questions. He looked at his wife leaning against the marble island she'd picked, in the kitchen she'd decorated when they first moved in, and he realised that he had no response to her statement. He didn't want to fight today. He'd planned to wake up earlier than her and prepare her favourite meal then spend the rest of the day showering her with kisses and attention in order to make up for coming home late. But then he couldn't find the juicing machine he'd bought for her last Christmas and when he went to look for the coffee machine he'd received as a gift from a business partner, he couldn't find that either and it just set him off. He wanted just one thing to go right.

It had been such an exhausting week, and all he wanted was to come home on Friday evening and crawl into bed. Instead, one of the executives at the meeting suggested they go out for dinner to discuss any final details before the contracts for the films were signed. They wouldn't stop ordering drinks, he'd missed his flight and by the time he landed in England, it was already 12am. He would've called Y/n to update her on his times, but he knew it was her night off and thought she was already asleep. He really didn't mean to keep her up.

He sighed softly as he took her in. Bonnet sitting slightly askew, satin pajamas wrinkled and her usual jewelry sitting all pretty on her dark skin. She looked down at her plate.

"Thank you for the pancakes." She said softly. He pushed off the counter and held her face in his hands, tilting her head up to look at him. "I wasn't in the mood for orange juice anyways."

He smiled softly at her comment, taking in her big brown eyes with dark circles, broad nose, and her full lips. He pressed a couple of kisses to her lips and she smiled against him.

She couldn't be mad at him now. He was trying, and that's all she felt she could ask for. She took his hand feeling the cold metal of his wedding ring and led him upstairs to their bedroom. He was silent all the way so she looked back to see him smirking at her. She smiled slyly knowing that he thought he was going to get rewarded for his actions but really she had something else in mind. Once they entered the large bedroom she walked over to the messy bed and grabbed a pillow only to thrust it at his chest and lean in.

"Do you mind making the bed while I get ready, my love?" She whispered with a smirk. The eager look on his face fell away, and he rolled his eyes as she walked off giggling.

"I'm pretty sure we pay people to do this!" He called after but still carried on with the task.

She was getting ready in their walk-in closet when she heard him come in to change as well.

"So tell me about your week, seeing as you've been at work since last Monday." He eyed her warily. She tood her ground.

"Lew, I just worry that you work too much and that it'll strain you. I know you have business ventures, but what happened to taking a break after retiring from F1?"

He stood up abruptly and moved to get a t-shirt out of his drawers. He was tired of this conversation coming up every week. "I need to do something to keep your lifestyle going." He muttered lowly, but she heard him and stood shocked with her hands on her hips.

He did not just say what she thought she heard. To her face. She felt her neck heat up from anger.

"Are you calling me a gold digger, Lewis?"

He didn't turn around to look at her but stood with his head bowed. His lack of reaction made her angrier.

"When I met you, you had more luxury than any man your age needed, and you're talking about supporting my lifestyle?!" She felt like screaming but chose to march out of the closet instead.

"How do I know that you're actually working and not off with women, huh? Finding a better gold digger to replace me with?" She yelled. He followed after her and they stood on opposite sides of the neat bed.

"Are you out of your mind?" He hissed. "I dont go out galivanting. I do all I can to come home on time to you and our son." He was so tired of these fights at the most inconvenient moments.

"And I'm tired of that!" She threw up her arms. "I'm tired of being home all day cleaning up, taking care of Leo, always waiting for you. I want to do more. I want to finally start a life of my own and have something in the world that I can call my work."

He stared at her as she swung her arms around in an attempt to get her point across. The room was beginning to feel like it was too small for the both of them and their words. He felt like he was being choked.

"But this is what we agreed to. What about the rest of the plan to have more kids and then move my parents closer so we could have more support?" He replied, confused about what she was saying.

"I don't want that plan - that life, anymore. It's not going to work for me." She looked away.

"How can we be together if we can't even follow a simple plan?" This conversation was scaring him a little. They had had arguments, yes, but none addressed the topics like this. This sense of defeat that he felt was new. He ran his hand through his braids, and her eyes softened when she recognised his panic.

"You haven't even asked what I want to do yet. Somehow, everything always ends up being about and for you. Like our marriage." She whispered that last part.

"I don't need to know what you want because it's not what you said last time - what we agreed on right after we got married."

She threw her head back and let out an outraged cry. He wasn't listening to her at all. He didn't want to hear what she was trying to say. "Is our entire marriage just based on this plan of yours?!"

"Our marriage is built on trust! Trust that we'll both make it work." He was yelling at her now, and she was not impressed.

"What about the time I trusted you to be there for me and our son? I wouldn't doubt the original script if you stuck to it in the first place." She sat on the big bed with her back to him. She could still hear his heavy breathing.

"Y/n, if nothing I do for us works for you, then go. Start your new life. Leave all we've created behind." He shot back.

She froze with her gaze on the tiled floor. "Go?"

He confidently continued. "Yeah, but if you step out, I sue you. For everything, custody and all. I won't have you disrupting Leo's life because you want to live in some fantasy world where everything goes your way and abandon our family."

She whipped her head around at this. The audacity of this old man to speak to her like this. After she had given her all to him and made his retirement plan possible. She had stuck with him through everything. Her life falling apart, his following suit, then through the rebuilding of his while hers stayed stagnant. She was so angry she could quite literally see red.

"Sue for custody? You're fucking with me, Lewis. Who's going to look after our son while you're out entertaining fat men and their fatter wallets - your parents? Your dad who raised you so well by pushing you so hard you lost the little emotional connection you two had? Hm? Is that the man you want raising my child??"

He looked away with hurt written on his face.

"Or maybe your mum? The woman who left you with your father to have more kids with another man and raise them better. She probably saw that Hamilton men are nothing but work."

He felt his heart hammering loudly in his chest. He couldn't believe the words coming out of Y/n's mouth. She was his best friend at some point in their relationship, but somehow here she was, insulting at him from their marital bed.

He sniffled loudly before looking her in the eye. "Like your parents are any better. You're forgetting they barely contact you since you moved out."

"They don't like you, and you know that. I moved out to marry you, and they didn't approve. It's cruel of you to bring that up."

He scoffed at that. "And what? You don't think my relationship with my father is a touchy subject?"

There was a never-ending silence in the room. All they had ever worked for sat between them in that silence. Their first kiss, first night together, their vows, the birth of their son. All of it felt fake after the words they had exchanged. It was hurting them both, yet neither one wanted to apologise. This was unlike the other arguments, he realised. It was starting to look like there was no coming back from this fight.

She looked away from him and wiped at her eyes quickly. His heart was sore it felt like he couldn't breathe properly.

"I wish I had noticed earlier on that you don't care about me. Definitely not in the ways you said you did." She said softly.

Tears slowly roll down his face. When he opened his mouth to respond, he was interrupted by the sound of the buzzer, indicating that someone was at the gate.

"That's Nathan's mother dropping off Leo from the sleepover." She stood up to leave.

Lewis left the room before she could and made his way downstairs. Outside, he took a second to wipe the tears and took a deep breath, then opened the gate to let Nathan's mother drive in. She was a pale woman with short red hair and a warm smile. One of Y/n's close friends around here.

"Lewis! It's good to see you." She opened the back door for his boy and moved to the boot to get a small bag. "Thank you for letting him come over."

Leo ran over to Lewis to wrap his small arms around his father's legs. "Dad!"

"Hello, my boy!" He received the bag from the woman. "Thanks for having him, Casey. I appreciate you dropping him off."

She smiled once more but took a second to eye him properly. He could see her questioning his red eyed and wet lashes. Finally, she waved and got into the car.

"Goodbye, Leo! See you Monday!" Shouted a ginger boy from the backseat.

"Goodbye, Nathan!" Returned Leo at equal volume. Once the gate rolled to a stop, Lewis lifted the small boy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"I've missed you, Champ. Look how much you've grown!"

Leo squeeled in excitement, happy to have his dad home to play with. His mum was fun to hang around, but she was often too tired to throw him around like his dad when they played. He laughed loudly when his dad bounced him with every step he took towards the house.

Lewis felt the tension leave his body now that his boy was in his arms. He'd spend the weekend making up for the week he wasn't home. He began thinking of all the things they could do as he ducked through the doorway but froze as soon as he spotted Y/n. She stood in the middle of the foyer with two large bags beside her.

"Y/n ..." Lewis whispered. She eyed him silently. Her face not giving away her emotions. He lowered his son to the floor and watched as he ran to his mother.

"Mum!" She crouched down to receive one of his sweet hugs. "Nathan got a new pet bunny and it has its own room and its so big and-"

"Oh, wow, that's all so interesting, my sweets, but mummy needs you to use the loo then grab your favourite toys before we leave." She smiled at him so as to not scare him. He smiled right back at her and ran off to complete the tasks.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" Lewis asked her. She straightened up and glared at him silently. She could barely keep it together and was afraid of exploding angrily in front of Leo. She began to hoist the bags onto her body as Leo came downstairs. His arms were full of teddies and toy cars. He walked over to Lewis and raised them up as a gesture for his father to help him carry a few. Y/n saw Lewis' face crumble further.

"Leo love, dad won't be coming with us. Say goodbye so we can leave for Aunt Sofie's house." Leo looked at his mum with confusion, and she felt her heart ache. His big eyes bounced between his parents, trying to process the words.

"Dad's not coming?" He mumbled.

"Aunt Sofie has been asking to see you!" She tried to cheer him up but he wasn't having it and pursed his lips. "We'll call him at bedtime for a story, yeah?" He nodded at this and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Bye, dad."

Lewis crouched to receive a hug and kiss. "Bye, Champ. See you soon, yeah." He slowly released Leo.

"Okay, go climb into mum's car." She said and moved to follow behind him.

"Y/n-"

She turned to face her husband. He was teary-eyed and pale. Eyes red and braids a mess. That didn't phase her, though. He was lucky to get a proper goodbye from Leo because she should have left long ago during one of his trips.

"You can go ahead and sue me now, Lewis. Let's see how that plays out."

With that, she packed the bags into the boot and got into the driver's seat.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Wow🙊Whose side are you taking? Part 2 soon?

I do not consent to altering my work, theft, copying, or reposting onto other sites.

Thanks for reading this far. Please interact before you leave🫶

[itsmrshamilton]

I don't know if it needs to be said but if you haven't figured it out yet I don't want any Trump supporters following or interacting with me. Stay the fuck away from me

[itsmrshamilton]

I often think about how Lewis said he personally called so many drivers in 2020 and personally asked them to kneel for BLM. I think about how he said he personally tried to explain the protest to them and answer all their questions. I think about how he felt when so many of them still declined. I think about how he was fined for wearing shirts for BLM. I think about how F1 stopped him from wearing a shirt that simply said "Justice for Breonna Taylor." because F1 wanted to 'de-politicise' the sport. I think about how when they asked Stefano Domenicali, the CEO of F1, about Lewis' activism, he said F1 is not racist and he does not "Percieve" the racism Lewis is talking about.

I think about how Nelson Piquet, who was fined $1 million for racially abusing Lewis on video was *banned* from the paddock. I think about how he just showed up to the paddock today clearly wearing a paddock pass and hanging out outside of Red Bull, not even hiding inside.

I think how this is all so symptomatic of how rotten to the core F1 is. How Lewis being the most successful driver in the history of the sport did not spare him from this.

[itsmrshamilton]

Masterlist is up! Go check out any stories you haven't already and comment or reblog to show me that you want more. I have 2 projects in the works rn. I'm super excited about them. Requests are always open. I'm a slow writer, but I'm dedicated to making my work look good. 🫶

[itsmrshamilton]

TEASER for my next post |LH44

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Y/n was falling asleep on the couch when she heard the keys jingle and the door handle turn. She jolted upright and moved to find the remote to the tv. It was playing a romance movie that she'd been looking forward to watching in theatres but hadn't found the time. When it was released in HD she gave up trying to plan the outing and instead picked a quiet evening to watch, except now she'd missed the whole thing. She sighed in defeat as the end credits roll to play and turned the tv off. She'd have to try again in two weeks when her schedule cleared.

The door was pushed open and in shuffled her husband with a tog bag and rolling suitcase. He froze when he noticed her disheveled state in the dimly lit living room. She stretched out her back then stood up to face him.

"Hey." He whispered, still rooted to his spot. He took in her unruly hair, tired eyes, pursed lips, and wrinkled satin pajamas. She looked like she should have been in bed. And she could have been if he had arrived home at the time he said he would.

"It's 1 am." Is all she said. Arms hanging loosely at her sides, pedicured toes pressing hard into the floorboards to prevent her from doing something she'd regret. She needed answers first.

He didn't reply immediately and the silence grew as her patience diminished.

"1 am, Lewis! I've been up worried because I expected your car in the garage by 10 last night- Is your phone off?!" She whispered harshly at him. Her toes began to hurt and cramp from the pressure.

Lewis let out the breath he was holding and looked away from her watering eyes. He felt bad but he really couldn't do this now. His back was aching and he still had work to do tomorrow.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

No Apologies out now!!

are you intrigued? let me know with a comment or reblog!

[itsmrshamilton]

No PLEASE i can't stop cackling.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[itsmrshamilton]

𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ saw this tt about how these two toddlers shared their dad's notoriously rough bed head and this post when i opened tumblr last night and had to write smth for it! sorry, for the baby content 💀 i'll get back to writing y'alls requests now xxx

the careful messiness of brunette curls has been charles’s signature hairstyle for ages. it suits him, and when paired with his dimples and green eyes—it’s no wonder why every italian and monegasque prays for his success on sundays. well, maybe bleeding rosso corsa and winning two championships driving the famed red car are the proper reasons.

if only they knew that the artful styling of his curls is nowhere to be found after he sleeps. when he wakes, his hair is in absolute disarray—the deep brown ringlets are clumped together as they stick straight upwards and yet they manage to point in every direction possible.

when you first moved in with charles, you convinced him to buy a satin pillowcase to combat the bed head. it didn’t help, and neither did the bonnets you tried to have him wear. no matter if the ties were knotted, buttoned, or even velcro-strapped tightly, the bonnet would end up by the foot of the bed and his hair was in it’s usual disordered state by the early morning hours.

so, your morning routine begins with taming charles’s severe case of bed head. he awakens slowly as your fingertips gently untangle the deep brown ringlets, moaning lowly and nudging his head into your hand like a large cat when your nails glide along his scalp. you carefully guide each curl back into their assigned positions, tutting disapprovingly at the one strand that never seems to stay in it’s place.

charles’s chest shakes with a chuckle at your slight irritation and he shifts to meet your eyes, tenderly directing your hands away from his now orderly hair to his lips, pressing kisses to your fingertips before pulling you forward to cuddle into his chest.

you didn’t expect to have to deal with more than one head of messy hair. unfortunately, it seems like your daughter inherited her father’s bed head.

your mornings now consist of charles climbing out of bed at the first crackle of noise through the baby monitor, rushing to scoop the 9-month-old from her nursery and have her join the two of you in bed. he crosses the doorway with your daughter cradled to his bare chest and leo yipping at his feet—she stares up at at him, a perfect reflection of the sea green pools of his eyes, the absence of a bonnet, and the chaotic sprawl of his brunette curls. you’ve never been bothered with the fact that she’s an exact replica of her father, as some tried to tease that your genes didn’t do more than deepen her complexion. however, you always joke back that it means that she’s been blessed to be as beautiful as charles is.

she coos and babbles up at her father and he dutifully responds in french as if he understands her baby gibberish. he sits in bed with her on his lap and she beams, her little arms and grabby hands reaching towards you. you smile back widely, stealing her from his lap and greeting your babygirl with a flurry of kisses pressed all over her cute little face. her giggles ring through the air as you pull backwards to watch her laugh and, there’s another trait she shares with her father; deep dimples decorate her chubby cheeks and you can’t help but press your thumb into them with adoration.

charles picks up his first baby, plopping the mini dachshund in bed, and leo bounds forward to press his own kisses to your daughter’s socked feet.

addressing charles’s wild bed head will have to wait as you settle her back in his lap. you rest your head on his shoulder, apologizing for interrupting the clearly important conversation the two were having. you start fixing the jumbled ringlets on her scalp with the softest touch of your digits and she nuzzles up into your hand the same way her father does. he continues from were he left off, asking your daughter if she thinks a one-stop strategy is too ambitious for the next race and she babbles back to him in reply.

charles nods in agreement, promising her that regardless of a one-stop or two-stop, he’ll bring back his third championship trophy for her.

© httpsserene - do not repost. photos in header from pinterest.

[itsmrshamilton]

I'm going job hunting next week!!!!!!!! My first job!!!! Pray for me. I feel like puking.

[COVERED IN BLOOD, EYES LARGE] i have been working. On my resume

[itsmrshamilton]

Happy birthday! | LH44

summary: baby hamilton celebrates Roscoe's birthday for the first time

a/n: a fic in celebration of my stepson's 12th🪅

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

You rolled the last sock over the chubby foot then slipped the small shoe on and pressed down the velcro strap.

"Okay, you're all dressed. Look at how handsome you look!" You cood at your baby boy. He smiled and kicked his feet in delight.

You lifted him into your arms and walked out of the nursery, bouncing him as you went.

"Dada, dada, dada." He babbled. You smiled at him in pride. Cameron wasn't speaking full sentences yet but was learning words pretty quickly. However, the difference between your accent and Lewis' accent was making it hard for your son to pick up words.

"You want dada, my sweets?" He nodded, big brown eyes looking up at you. "Dada's out picking up Roscoe and his friends, yeah? So we'll stay here and set up for the party."

"Pah- tee." He uttered, chubby cheeks working hard to move around the word. You giggled at his effort and kissed his big forehead.

"Yes! Party. Mummy's going to put you down here so she can get the bowls out." You set him down on his play mat in the living room. He immediately crawled towards his squeaky toys and talking teddies. A true lover of loud noises, like his father. You set about finding dog bowls and filling them with treats, water, and fruits, then organising party packs with chew toys and 'thank you' cards. When you heard the gate roll open, you left the kitchen to go open the front door. Your curious boy abandoned his toys to turn towards the door, eager to see what was going on.

As you opened, 5 energetic dogs frantically pushed their way in, dragging a chuckling Lewis behind them. He was tangled in the mess the leashes made. Cam squealed in delight at the sight before him.

"Oh, my! Look at Dada and all the dogs, sweetie!" You exclaimed. Cam clapped his small hands and grabbed his feet in excitement. You couldn't help but laugh at his antics. Watching this small being react to everything in wonderment and awe was the best part of being a parent.

"Woah, guys. Let's get these leashes off, and then everyone can explore to their hearts' delight, yeah?" Lewis kneeled and let the dogs loose before standing up to kiss you. "Hello, love." You smiled bashfully and wrapped your arms around his neck.

A loud squeal forced you apart, and you turned to see your boy giggling loudly as the dogs sniffed and licked at him. They were all well trained and friendly pups, so you weren't worried about them hurting him. Cam didn't seem worried either as he waved his arms, trying to get the dogs to stop tickling him.

Roscoe managed to push through the crowd of 4-legged baby lovers to get to the center and barked at the others to back off and find other interests in the house. He gently nudged his face into your son's arms for some snuggles and pats.

"Osco!" Yelled your son. He couldn't roll R's yet, so this was the best he could do. The first time he mumbled the bulldog's name, Lewis nearly collapsed from extreme joy. It was Cam's second word after Dada, which stung a little for you but couldn't beat the pride you felt overall. Roscoe was the first member of both of your families to meet your son. He adjusted very quickly and learned to be gentle and quiet around the baby. Refusing to sleep anywhere but the nursery at night, growling at anyone who dared to go near the baby in the first months and barking menacingly at anyone who raised their voice when the baby was asleep. Now that your boy is getting older, Roscoe allows him to use his body to balance when he tries to stand, he carries over his chew toys to share and he promptly cleans up any bits of food thrown off the high chair. They were best friends. The cutest duo you'd ever seen. And now you got to include your son in Roscoe's birthday celebration.

Despite Roscoe being very gentle with him, your baby was still learning to be the same with Roscoe. You watched as Cam lifted Roscoe's ear to put the hairy tip into his mouth. Lewis swooped in quickly and lifted him.

"Hey, buddy. We don't bite Roscoe's ears, okay?"

"Osco!" Came the reply, barely registering his dad and reaching down to his furry sibling.

"Is dada just wasting his breath?" You smiled in amusement at your favourite boys. Side by side, they looked alike a lot. Same big eyes, small lips, and chubby cheeks. Your son had light tufts of hair, but you saw the potential for it to be thick like yours one day.

Lewis began to entertain the guests and his sons, so you went back to the kitchen to prepare human food for lunch.

As the day went on, the human guests arrived bearing gifts and drinks. The party was coming to life. The dogs ran wildly in the large yard, your son was passed around like a trophy and the birthday boy was treated to all the belly rubs and pats he could ask for. As the sun began to set, Lewis brought out the giant cake that was designed to look like Roscoe's favourite food - a watermelon. The cake was vegan friendly and pet friendly. Lewis proudly placed it in front of his firstborn and began the birthday song.

Everyone joined in and took pictures while Roscoe sat proudly and smiled for every camera. He waited til everyone cheered and then dug into the cake. His friends joined in, and together, they did their best to clear the plate. Lewis helped you hand out slices of the cake suitable for humans. As you took a plate for yourself, you realised your boy wasn't where you left him.

"Y/n, do you have Cam?" He turned to ask you but froze when he saw your panicked face.

"No! I thought you might have him." You began to panic some more. You saw Lewis' eyes widen a bit, and he put his plate down to pull you closer. You continued to look around over his shoulder. No one else seemed to notice your baby was gone.

"Don't panic. There's a lot of people, he coul-"

"Bloody hell!" You yelled. "Lewis, look at your son! Cameron!" You pulled out of your husband's grasp to stare in shock. "Cameron!"

Lewis jumped and turned around to see.

Amongst the dogs ravashing the vegan cake was the little boy, seated next to Roscoe and shoving fistfulls into his small mouth. You could feel the grey hairs growing in. Lewis, on the other hand, couldn't be happier to see his best boys bonding.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

I suck at ending stories, man.

Thanks for reading this far. Be sure to interact before you leave! Do not alter, copy or repost my work anywhere else.

[itsmrshamilton]

[itsmrshamilton]

The worst part about Liam Payne dying is that people are posting about “the switch up is crazy”

Like no. He was an abuser and made horrible decisions, but nobody wanted him to die. He was getting hate for an INCREDIBLY valid reason, but we all recognized that he needed mental and physical help. He needed to go to rehab. He needed to get away from drugs and alcohol and improve upon himself away from the public. No one wanted him to die.

We’re not mourning the life of an abuser, we are mourning the part of him that we adored and looked up to for a massive part of our childhood/ teenage years. He was a huge part of how I was introduced to my love of music. And yes, he did horrible things and made horrible decisions and over the last few years has been anything but admirable, but none of us wanted this.

Maya didn’t want this. And everyone saying that it’s her fault can actually go burn in hell. She likely already blames herself enough. She likely already wishes she hadn’t spoken up about it out of the guilt that she likely feels. You guys commenting all over the socials about how this is her fault and “are you happy now?” Are actually horrible people.

A 7 year old boy just lost his father. A woman just lost her long term boyfriend. Two parents just lost their son. Several young children just lost their uncle. Show some fucking respect. Joking about it and hating on people who had nothing to do with what happened is not doing anything but twist the knife for the people who this has ACTUALLY effected.

[itsmrshamilton]

Do me - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Do me - Kim Petras - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smut

wordcount: +2k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

I can’t even look at him without wanting to throw something. A pillow, a chair—hell, myself. He’s got that smug look on his face, the one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

The sun dips low over the circuit, but my mind is far from the track. Tuned into every loaded glance Lewis threw my way since breakfast.

And he knows it—how each tease tightens the coil low in my belly, makes me shift in my seat and swallow the urge to wipe that smug smile off his face.

He’s been stoking the fire with every damn look, every graze of his fingers on my waist, and every damn smirk that’s left me biting my lip, counting down until I could get him alone.

Because he knows I’m ovulating. Of course, he knows.

The calendar sits on our bathroom counter, marked in that shorthand way he uses for race weekends and…other things. He takes a special kind of pride in knowing when I’m on the edge.

It’s like a game to him—watching me squirm, knowing I’m ready to drag him into the nearest bathroom, or hell, the backseat of the damn car, if it means he’ll finally stop making me wait.

We only have 30 minutes before someone comes to our hotel room to get us for some sponsor dinner, but honestly, my favorite plate is right before me, right where I want him.

No more of his taunting, those whispers of “not yet” when I tried to slip my hand beneath the waistband of his pants earlier, or the way he brushed my inner thigh when no one was looking, leaning in to murmur something wicked about patience.

Screw patience. I’m done playing his game.

I’m practically dragging him through the hallway of the hotel, his laugh low and cocky in my ear, like he knows exactly what he’s done.

The door to his hotel room clicks shut behind me, and I’m on him before he even manages to shrug off his jacket. I push him back against the edge of the bed, hands fisted in his shirt, the fabric crumpling beneath my fingers as I pull him down to me.

He barely has time to laugh, to let out a breathy, “Really, babe?” before I’m kissing him like I’m starving, like his mouth is the only thing that can quench the heat that’s been simmering in my veins all day.

“Y/n, we don’t have much time,” he warns, his voice rough, but I hear the hitch in his breath. I’ve got him where I want him, and he knows it.

His hands find my hips, guiding me closer until I’m straddling his lap, the hard line of him pressing through our clothing, teasing just like he has been since this morning.

A low growl rumbles in his chest when I grind against him, desperate to feel more, to take back the control he’s kept from me. But even through the haze of lust, he pulls back, breathless, eyes dark and teasing as he glances at the clock over my shoulder.

“You know we’ve only got—”

“Don’t care,” I cut him off, my voice rough as I slip my hand between us, cupping him through the tight fabric, feeling the way he twitches in response. “You’ve been playing with me all day, Lewis. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

His grin falters, his breath catching as my fingers work him over, rougher than I usually am, but I’m too wound up to care. I want him to feel just a fraction of what he’s put me through.

I can feel the urgency in his breathing, but I take my time, savoring every inch of him as I drag his pants and underwear off, loving the way he shudders when I scrape my nails on his thighs, his hips jerking up into my touch.

“Fuck, Y/n, you know I’m—” His words die off as I grab his dick. I don’t wait, don’t bother with the pleasantries, stroking him until his head falls back, lips parting on a sharp exhale.

He always gets like this—sensitive, twitching under my touch—and I love how it makes him lose that smug edge.

I barely give him time to register what I’m doing as I steady myself on his shoulders and straddle him again, guiding his tip to my entrance, sinking down in one smooth motion that has us both gasping.

He fills me up so perfectly, stretching me just right, hitting every spot that has me seeing stars. I don’t even give him a chance to breathe before I start moving, rolling my hips, setting a pace that has him digging his fingers into my waist.

He groans but he lets me have my way, his head falling back against the pillows as I ride him hard, chasing that friction, that heat that’s been building inside me. His breath comes in sharp, ragged bursts, his jaw clenched tight as he fights to hold back, but I can feel the tension in his abs.

“Fuck, Y/n, you’re gonna make me cum” he gasps, his voice rough, desperate, and I know he’s close, so close he’s barely holding on by a thread.

But I can’t slow down. I need him too much, want him too much—want to push him right to that edge and watch him fall over.

“You’re supposed to be the controlled one, remember?” I taunt, biting down on his earlobe, making him shudder beneath me. “Come on, baby, hold on for me.”

“God, you’re so—” His words break off into a groan as I drag my nails under his shirt on his chest, marking him, leaving a trail of heat in my wake. His mouth finds my neck, sucking at the sensitive skin just beneath my ear until I’m whimpering, my legs tightening around his hips.

“Lewis,” I gasp, nails digging in harder, my body arching on top of his. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare stop—”

He growls, a low, frustrated sound, but he fights to keep his rhythm, matching my strokes even as his breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps. And I know he’s not going to last. Not this time.

“Shit, I—fuck—Y/n, I can’t” And just when I feel that delicious heat building low in me, that tightness that’s about to snap, he chokes out, and before I can respond, he pulls out of me with a hiss, his hands shaking as he wraps one around his own length, his head dropping to my shoulder, breath coming in harsh pants against my skin.

I watch, breathless, as he spills over his own stomach and some of his shirt, his head thrown back, his body shuddering through every spur of release.

He looks so damn good like this, lost in the pleasure, completely undone.

For a second, I almost give in, almost let him catch his breath, but then he shifts, and I feel him twitch against my thigh, sensitive and half-hard and I’m reaching for him again, feeling him twitch beneath my touch.

He curses, trying to jerk away, but I pin him beneath me as I sink back down onto him, feeling him fill me all over again. He’s still sensitive, still twitching from the aftershocks, his head shaking against my shoulder.

“Y/n—fuck—” he gasps, his hands flying to my hips, trying to steady me, but I ignore him, riding him hard, chasing my own release even as he shudders beneath me. “You know I can’t—god, you know I can’t hold back the second time—”

“Kind of counting on that,” I pant, my voice breathless, taunting. I lean down, my lips brushing against his lips, feeling the muscles in his arms tighten. “We’ve only got 10 more minutes, and I really need to cum.”

He curses under his breath, his grip tightening on my hips, but there’s a new edge to his voice, a roughness that tells me I’ve pushed him too far. And I know exactly what’s coming, know how he loses control when I push him like this, but I don’t care.

I want to feel him unravel again, to see the way his careful restraint shatters when I make him come apart a second time.

His thrusts are rougher now, less precise, but it’s exactly what I need. The heat between my legs builds again, even sharper this time, and I clutch at his shoulders, meeting every thrust with my own, desperate and wild.

“You drive me crazy,” he rasps, his voice a growl against my ear, and I can hear the strain in it, feel the way his body trembles beneath my touch, struggling to hold on just a little longer. “Always so fucking greedy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I pant, my hands slipping to my ass, spreading it open and urging him deeper “When it comes to you, always.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs. He grits his teeth, his hips slamming into mine with a pace that makes me cry out, the sound echoing in the room.

My body tightens around him, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge until I’m teetering on the brink, gasping his name like a prayer, like a curse.

And then I’m falling, the pleasure crashing in a white-hot wave that leaves me shaking, clinging to him as I ride out every pulse of it, every delicious tremor that leaves me breathless and aching.

He’s right behind me, his own control snapping as my walls squeeze him and he buries himself inside me one last time, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing, the rapid thud of his heart against my chest, and the lingering buzz of satisfaction humming through my veins.

He stays inside me, his forehead pressed to mine, and I can feel his smile against my lips as he brushes a kiss there, slow and unhurried.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters, his voice rough but warm, and it makes me laugh breathlessly, threading my fingers through his shirt, holding him close even though I know we don’t have much time left.

“Yeah, I am” I admit, letting my lips brush against his in a soft, lingering kiss that tastes like salt and sweat and something sweeter beneath it all—something that makes my chest ache with how much I want him, always. “But don’t think for a second that I’m done with you. Just wait until we get back from that dinner.”

He chuckles, pulling back enough to look down at me, his eyes bright and playful despite the heat still lingering there. He smooths a hand over my hair, brushing it back from my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw with a tenderness that makes my heart squeeze.

“So, that IUD is still—?” His tone has that edge of concern now, like he’s trying to piece together the last few minutes.

I lean back enough to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Lewis. All good there” I reply, a hint of sass still lingering in my voice. “It’s not going anywhere” I lean down, my lips brushing against his as he smiles into the kiss.

“Guess I better be on my best behavior tonight, huh?” he teases, but there’s a promise in the way his eyes linger on mine, in the slow drag of his thumb over my swollen lower lip.

“You better,” I shoot back, sliding my hands down his back, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath my touch, even as I shift off of him, reaching for a towel to clean up the mess we’ve made.

We clean up quickly, trading a few more playful barbs as we scramble to get dressed again, smoothing down new clothes and fixing hair that’s hopelessly tousled. He’s slipping on a crisp dress shirt just as I finish reapplying my lipstick in the bathroom mirror, and I catch his eye in the reflection, giving him a little smirk.

He laughs, a low, rumbling sound as he watches me on the mirror, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck before finally stepping back, checking his watch with a resigned sigh. “We’ve still got two minutes to spare, babe. Think we can manage to walk out of here without looking too guilty?”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a warmth curling in my chest, a quiet contentment beneath the lingering fire between us. “Only if you stop looking at me like you’re ready to drag me back into bed” I tease, turning to him, but there’s a part of me that wishes we had more time, that we could stay here, wrapped up in each other, forgetting about the world outside.

He laughs, low and breathless, his hands sliding up my back to pull me closer. “You’re a menace, babe.”

“And you ... you’re hot, Sir.” I murmur against his lips, feeling the grunt he lets out at the back of his throat as he holds me close.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[itsmrshamilton]

bad news! i have no idea what im doing. good news! i will continue nonetheless.

[itsmrshamilton]

Last Goodbye (2) | LH44

summary: the aftermath of the car accident

a/n: i had plans to make this a longer series, but idk what happened.

Part 1

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Lewis looked at the police officer in panic. He was desperately trying to process what he was seeing but also trying to block out the worst parts at the same time. Nothing felt real. None of this could be real.

"Sir? I'm asking you to stand behind the line with the rest of the crowd while we sort this out." The officer firmly grasped his shoulder with one hand and gestured to the growing audience behind the police tape with the other in an attempt to guide Lewis there. But he wasn't moving. "Sir?"

"I- that. Uh- I." His tongue felt so heavy in his mouth as he tried to pronounce sentences that his brain hadn't yet formed. He cleared his throat softly before turning to look the officer in the eyes. The cop immediately softened with sympathy when he met the driver's tear-filled gaze.

"That's my ... girlfriend's car." He whispered. "That's -" And he broke down, sobbing into his hands and trembling against the police officer's body. Cameras beyond the police tape flashed wildly. The officer reached for his hand-held radio and muttered into it. A second later, he received a reply through the static noise. He sighed softly before patting Lewis on the back in consolation but also to get his attention.

"Mr Hamilton, we only have one body at the scene that needs to identified but it is male. We have a female being treated at one of the ambulances." He watched as Lewis reacted slowly to his words.

"She's alive?" He whispered.

"She is but I've received word that she's in horrible shape. I'll only take you over if you think you can stand to see the crash site up close."

Lewis stood frozen.

"Mr Hamilton?" The driver looked up. "I can drive you to the hospital instead. You can see her after she's been treated." The cop was gentle in his explanation as he tried to understand what the man in front of him was going through. Lewis' wet face had paled greatly, and his eyes were red from crying.

"Uh, yes. Yes. Uh- I'll go with her." He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. "I want to go with her to the hospital. Please."

The officer nodded then picked up his radio to ask for a replacement for his position. He then guided Lewis further into the crash site and in the direction of an ambulance. Upon arrival, he did some more mumbling to another officer, who then led them to the doors of the ambulance.

"Here we go, Mr Hamilton. I think you should let them look over you to treat potential shock, okay?" The policeman wanted to reassure the driver and tell him that everything would be okay, but he'd seen how much blood there was in what was left of woman's car and he didn't want to create false hope.

Lewis nodded in gratitude but barely spared a glance when the man walked away. In the ambulance lay a woman on the stretcher, surrounded by a few paramedics frantically working on and around her. Bloody rags and bandages were messily gathered in a pile under the stretcher. The rapid beeping sounds from the heart rate monitor forced him into a panicked trance. The run here, the sight of her car, the pile of rags - it was all too much for him. He couldn't feel any part of his body except for his chest which began to tighten painfully. He couldn't catch his breath, or focus his vision, or control the trembles wracking his body. There was darkness in the edges of his vision that kept growing, moving closer and trying to shut out the light. He suddenly felt very tired and considered letting it do so. The little bit of light he could see was hurting his head anyways - stabbing at his temples in quick continuous motion. He wanted to see Y/n. He wanted to ride with her to the hospital and promise that everything would be okay. But he was so very tired and the pain in his chest was slowly ebbing away.

"Sir? Sir, are you alright? Are you- shit! Davis, I need another stretcher here now!"

The eratic beeping that sent him into a spiral now soothed him into a senseless sleep.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Y/n's body felt lighter than it had ever been. And she was floating in a pool of darkness. She hoped this was one of those weird sleep paralysis moments. There were no thoughts, no feelings, no sense of direction. No bliss, either. Just nothingness for a long time. Later on came the pain. Deep disconfort paired with a great stinging everywhere. She tried to move in order to relieve herself of the pain but found that the earlier floating sensation was because she couldn't move at all. She strained and strained til she gave up and whined in defeat. The whine came out louder than she expected and startled her before she realised that she could make sounds to wake up Lewis so he could help wake her from this sleepy state. She proceeded to whine loudly for a minute or two before the pain began to subside, and she felt herself slipping under. The nothingness overtook her once more. The next time she was aware of her floating state, she tried to open her eyes or move her hands, anything to reassure her that she was real and alive. This couldn't be the afterlife. She couldn't stay here forever. As her attempts to move went on, the pain returned once more but this time it was a subdued throbbing which she could handle. So she gave up and let herself float in the nothingness.

Minutes, hours, days, an eternity passed. She didnt know what was happening to her but she now knew this wasn't sleep paralysis. She couldn't put together too many thoughts though because nothing seemed to hold its form in her mind. Except for the pain. Which only grew as time went on til she could handle it no more and went to whine in protest when she heard something. A muffled sound floating with her in the nothingness. She strained to move towards it, using every muscle she could feel. The sound stopped immediately and she nearly screamed in fear and protest. It couldn't leave her here. She had to get to it, maybe then she could leave this dark hell. The muffled sound started up again but much louder and accompanied by more sounds. She stayed still this time in hopes that she wouldn't scare them away and they'd instead find her. Nothing. They stayed where they were and began to buzz softly til they went silent. She went to whine in defeat but felt sleep overcome her and end any attempts to reach back out to the sounds.

The buzzing was back, and so were the muffled noises. They were right next to her, right above her, right behind her. It was overwhelming, but she was grateful to be pulled out of her forced sleep. The bright light was bothering her, though - she froze as she registered her thoughts. Tentatively, she went to open her eyes. The ceiling lights were way too bright, so she blinked a couple of times, then turned her head to the side to adjust to the rest of the room. As she did so, she became aware of something lodged in her mouth and down her throat. In a panicked state, she cried out and went to grab at it as a loud beeping sound rang out in time with her quicky pulse. Just as she reached the plastic device on her mouth, a hand grabbed onto hers and stopped it.

"Y/n." She turned to her other side and met Lewis' wild eyes that were beginning to fill with tears.

She felt hers begin to mirror his in relief. Finally this nightmare could end.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

He wanted so desperately to pull her close and shield her from any more harm. But he was afraid of the injuries she currently had. Her body was wrecked, and he flinched slightly every time he looked at her. Green and yellow bruises all over, scabs on every surface, bandages covered the areas they'd shaved to stitch on her head, she sported the nastiest black eye he'd ever seen. Split lip beneath the feeding tube and broken ribs beneath her hospital gown. His heart had broken each time she took a faint ragged breath or whined softly in discomfort.

He snapped back to attention when she began sobbing as well as she could around the plastic that ran down her throat. He turned his grip on her hand to a soft grasp so he could bring it to his lips for a very soft kiss. His other hand moved to wipe her tears away in the same gentle manner

"Y/n, love. I'm so glad you're awake. You're okay. You're okay." His voice cracked in dispair.

She moved to pull the device from her face once more but he stopped her again.

"Hold on, hold on. That's a feeding tube. Let me call the nurses to get it out, okay? Just a second, love."

He got up to press the call button beside her bed multiple times. Her position in the ICU meant that they'd get attention quicker than expected. A minute later a few nurses came rushing in to assess and assist. He sat down to hold her hand as they removed emergency equipment, ran quick tests on her and switched her IV bag contents. During the entire ordeal she was quiet and hesitant. Moving slowly due to pain, answering only when she couldn't nod or shake her head in reply, squeezing his hand when they replaced plasters and ointment. Towards the end the nurse opened her file to update them.

"Ms L/n, we are pleased to say that you are recovering well. There is no significant brain damage besides a concussion. No internal bleeding, and we expect no long-term effects. The 4 broken ribs will take a lot of time to heal. The brusing will only require creams, and the stitches on your head and arms are holding up well. Any questions, dear?"

Y/n hesitated, then shook her head slightly to avoid more throbbing pain. The nurse nodded. "We'll move you to a recovery ward tomorrow for further monitoring." She moved to the door, "Mr Hamilton, I'll take you up on that promise now. Call us if you need us to set up the bathroom."

Lewis, smiled softly. "Thank you, Viv."

He turned to Y/n and she lifted a bruised brow at him in questioning. "What promise?" Her hoarse voice was music to his ears. Like a choir from heaven after the painful silence he's had in the past weeks.

"Uh, when we got here, I didn't want to leave your side for days so they made me promise to shower the second you woke up. And here you are. Awake, finally."

She slowly lifted an arm to cup his face in sympathy. She could now see that he hadn't bathed in a while. Nor slept. His braids were disheveled and dry, dark circles under his eyes, an overgrown beard, and mustache. He looked nothing like the Lewis she knew. He looked sicker than he did when he actually was sick. She felt her heart sink as she thought of how stressed he must have been all this time.

"Let's go then." She whispered.

"Go? Where?"

"To the bathroom. You run a bath and we can sit and talk about everything. I'll help you wash and redo your braids." She stroked his face as it crumpled up in confusion.

"No, Y/n. You need to stay here and rest. I'll shower when you sleep tonight."

"Lewis, you took care of me while I slept for a long time. I'm tired of sleeping. Please let me look after you this one time." She insisted. He shook his head. "Please Lew, please." She pressed kisses to his hands. "Please."

She felt bad that he had spent days at her bedside, worried sick about her. She really wanted to find out what happened after the accident but first she wanted her boyfriend to relax a bit. "Please, Lewis. It'll make me feel better too."

He sighed in defeat and leaned in to kiss her temple, but as he got closer, he felt his stomach churn at the close-up of her shiny purple skin. He closed his eyes and brushed his lips there. The guilt was eating him, but he was in desperate need of a hot bath. "Okay, wait here while I run it."

Minutes later Lewis was in the tub and she sat in wheelchair beside the tub. She refused to get in because she knew he'd focus on not touching or hurting instead of relaxing.

He was lazily playing with the hospital loofah while she rubbed the hospital shampoo into his hair. She didn't have the strength to unbraid then rebraid it yet so she settled for a good scrubbing, rinsing and moisturising session. He was a little grumpy about giving in to her now but she knew he'd feel better after this.

"How long have I been out?" She asked softly.

His soapy shoulders slumped. "Two weeks and a half. Today is Wednesday and the accident was-"

"On Saturday. Yeah, I remember that."

"Do you remember anything else? How it happened?" He turned to look up at her. She pursed her lips and shook her head.

"I remember leaving the house then it's blank. I woke up in the ambulance in excruciating pain. I called for you, I was scared. Then I guess I gained partial consciousness sometime these past days."

His eyebrows met in concern. "Really? The doctor said the pain meds would keep you under so you could heal without experiencing the first few weeks of pain."

"It wasn't horrible," she was quick to reassure him. "It was like floating in a pool with a blindfold on. I felt nothing but I did hear sounds."

"Yeah? They told me to keep talking to you. Your parents flew in to see you as well. We were worried you would -" he sniffled. "I couldn't live with myself, you know, if you died. I should have driven with you earlier that day. You would have avoided that car accident, and you'd be okay. Your car was completely totaled, Y/n. Completely."

She stopped massaging his scalp and lifted his chin so he could into her eyes. She would lean over and hug him if she had the strength to.

"It's not your fault. You went to work like normal. You couldn't have predicted that that would be the day something terrible happened. I'm more than grateful that you're here with me now, after it's all occurred. " She gripped his unruly beard tighter when she realised he wasn't convinced.

"Lewis, it was not your fault. Repeat that back to me." She demanded. He raised his eyebrows at her in slight disagreement. "Repeat. It."

"It was not my fault." He mumbled out.

"Yes, again."

"It was not my fault."

"Yes. One more time."

He sighed in annoyance but the hint of a smirk made her stare him down in mock annoyance as well.

"It was not my fault." He said firmly.

"I love you, Lewis Hamilton."

"And I love you, Y/n L/n."

She smiled sweetly and instructed him to bend his neck so she rinse the soap off his hair. He obliged, and she finished her tasks slowly before wheeling herself back to her cot so he could have the space to get dressed. The pain from sitting upright to help with broken ribs was excruciating now. She was struggling to breathe properly, but she didn't want Lewis to worry more now that she had managed to calm him down.

"Want help?" Came his soft voice from the bathroom doorway. He was clad in a hoodie, sweatpants, and dirty running shoes. The beard was gone but his long braids were tied back into a bun.

"Goodness, what would the fans of LHFW say if they saw you in this look! Sweatpants in public??" She joked. He smiled softly in amusement before sauntering over to lift her out of the chair. The feeling of his arms lifting and wrapping around her body made her blush.

"Watch your IV. Okay."

She winced when he set her down on the bed and moved the pillows behind her. "Oh, fuck. Sorry love, how bad is it?" He quickly straightened up in panic, but his hands hovered above her head and abdomen, not sure where to start.

"Lew, I'm perfect. Sit down." She instructed, reaching for his hand.

He wasn't convinced, so he stayed standing.

"Alright, fine. My ribs hurt from sitting up, but the pain is fading, I promise!"

His brown eyes were filled with worry, and his eyebrows furrowed. He reluctantly pulled the guest chair closer to her and sat down. He brushed his hand against her remaining short curls. Her purple eyelids lowered with his movements.

"You can sleep now, love." He whispered.

She tried to open her dark eyes, but they were too heavy and her aching body sank further into the mattress. But some part of her didn't want to go down without a fight. "I don't want to go back to the nothingness."

His voice sounded slightly confused when he reassured her that he would be right here to pull her out of the nothingness in a few hours. With that, she fell fast asleep.

He kissed her hand and reached for his phone to text everyone that she was okay and beginning a long recovery. Kind and lovely messages began to pour in, filling Lewis with great warmth. He had been worried sick about Y/n's health. Waking up confused in his own hospital room after fainting, he bargained and pleaded with nurses to let him see her. Then he spent every single waking hour with her. Only taking breaks to use the bathroom. He spoke to her every day, massaged her swollen and bruised feet, unbraided her bloody braids. His heart lept in his chest every time she twitched or whined but then sank to his feet when she didn't wake up afterward. It had been a long three weeks.

He sunk into his chair with a long sigh, still holding onto her hand. He was drained, hungry and dehydrated.

But most of all, he was incredibly grateful that he went through all of that and didn't have to say goodbye to the love of his life.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

a/n: guys, i kept trying to end the story and it didnt want to end. But somehow, it still sounds a bit rushed at the end. 🫤 baie dankie to all those who requested a part 2.

Thank you for reading! Be sure to interact so I stay motivated to keep writing🤠 do not copy, reproduce, or alter my work in any way onto another platform.

@pickingupmymercedes @rageshots @jajouska @strengthandstay @velentine @mrssainzhamilton @melalsworld

[itsmrshamilton]

Aahhh! If you saw Last Goodbye 2 then NO YOU DIDN'T. I was updating it as a draft last night and must have accidentally posted it.

It'll be ready by tonight (CAT) or tomorrow.

So glad I didnt add tags so it didnt go too far