palefacestudentlove

[palefacestudentlove]

Kintsugi.— lewis hamilton

In Japanese culture, there is an art form that provides solace with sacred touch. Kintsugi. A broken object is put together again, glued and repaired with gold. A proof of how the deepest wounds and the darkest days have no power in destroying what one chooses to fight for. A story, telling the power of healing that love and care holds. Highlighting the flaws of the object with a golden shine. Unleashing the beauty of the history that every unique piece carries. Kintsugi. A symbol of solace even in the middle of chaos the world offers. The same kind of love we are about to learn from two beautiful souls.

Mercury. The planet that orbits the sun the fastest. Glorious in its game. Beautiful to imagine. This one however, happened faster than Mercury’s game. It raced light and time, painting shame with bold colours on those two fastest elements. Swift. Quick. No longer than a blink. Everything muted the second his car hit the barrier. Everything went silent. As if the world had lost its music and the birds forgot how to sing. And it was suffocating, how the blue sky in its glory appeared mocking that afternoon. 

He was smoothly weaving through the pack, making his way to the front as he overtook. One car. Two. Three cars. Majestically painting another masterpiece of his own on the track. A master leading and teaching the pack and the whole world, to engrave a beautiful story, carved by blood, sweat, tears, and respect. It was graceful, the way he danced on the track. Refined and poetic. And like all other dances, this one carried a story too, a plot of its own. One that is about to make the whole world whisper. One that would dull all notes of melody, even the most majestic orchestra. One that would make the dictionary lose its purpose in giving meanings to things. And definitely one that would make one person’s heart stop. Y/N.

Love, on its own, is a cruel game. It'll give you the most unimaginable. Painting a million different shades on the canvas of life. Building a huge tree house for you to lay in, safe from the danger and threat offered by the world below. Unfortunately, like every other thing this world has seen, it carries a darkness too. One second you look away, it'll rip out the carpet from beneath your feet, letting you fall into an endless abyss. Pushing you off the cliff even if your hands are clawing to hold on, to climb back. 

Lap 50. A car slammed into the barrier of Turn 7 with a force that shook the whole track. Making every single garage went silent. And when the dust cleared, she saw it. She couldn’t even whisper when the world demanded her to scream. Car number 44. Red flags raised. Safety car and medical car deployed. Little Gracie was kept close to her hip. One hand drawing circles on the little girl’s back. She didn’t have the power to look down, to look into those same brown eyes the little girl inherited. Her gaze was on Bono. Unmoving. The man hasn’t looked at her yet, his hand on his headset. Calling. Asking. Checking.

“Lewis, are you okay?”

Trying to be as calm as possible, as demanded for his job, Bono’s voice broke through. Steady but still noticeably strained. A few seconds passed. Silence. A few more seconds stretched longer, carving an open wound in her chest that grew longer and deeper as the seconds passed. Loneliness tapping a gun to the back of her skull. Waiting to claim its desired bullseye. Every single second that passed, every single murmur, every single whisper, every single turn of head, she was hoping it's to tell her that this was all just a dream. A stupid nightmare she'll wake up from soon. But there’s nothing. Not even the faintest sound of his breath. He’s not hitting the radio button. He’s not moving. In vivid details, complete with their own music, her mind orchestrated every worst case scenario like a finale. Someone will always have to be the first one to leave. This story is a centuries long inevitable fate. No one holds the power to deny it. But even then, her heart begged. No, not yet. Not today. Give us more time, please.

In every single love story the world had witnessed, it always spoke of sacrifice. Things like: I would die for you, I would burn for you. But that wasn't the case with Y/N and Lewis. Never had been, never will be. For these two beating hearts, it has always been different. I would live for you. I want to try, for you. That's how it has always been for them. Y/N is a midnight storm. A dark cloud stood loyally on top of her head, wherever she went. She had long accepted and made peace with that. But Lewis. Oh Lewis. He had shown her and gave her every single reason to live. Teaching her that she deserves way more than just surviving. 

So how? How will she find a way to survive this? If Bono turned his head toward her, and  told her that they had failed Lewis. That they had failed her, Grace. How will she go through her Sundays at home? Waking up to his side of the bed cold and empty? Eating breakfast alone after sending Grace to school? God, Grace's first day of school without her daddy? Will his chair at her school's sports day be empty too? No one to carve a poetic line along her shoulder with soft kisses while she prepares breakfast? Every single one hitting the harbour in waves. And she's drowning. But Bono called again, more urgent, but still calm. There’s two people waiting inside the garage for Lewis, and he couldn’t, he didn’t even want to imagine how he’s going to face those two if this ends badly.

“Lewis, talk to me mate.”

As if the heavens saw the scenarios her mind orchestrated, a faint whisper of breath went through the radio. Say something. Please.

“Yeah mate, I’m okay. Just… thinking about how I’m going to explain that to Y/N.”

Bono turned toward her and Grace, nodding calmly, exhaling a tension he’s been holding in too. Only after that, she could finally remember how to inhale and exhale. A relief. Like a clueless tiny toddler who just conquered the world with their very first wobbly step. Her hold on Grace was tighter, grounding herself in the safety of her daughter’s hair. Closing her eyes, because fear still lingers at the corner of the garage, and silence still has its hands on her shoulder. 

On the screen, the paramedics were rushing to his side as he carefully climbed out of the metal wreckage that no longer has the silhouette of a car. He was walking, but slow. Way too slow through the lens of her eyes as she watched in silence.

Lewis, on the other side of the page, was trying to not lay a single touch on his ribs as he made his way to the medical car. Don’t. She’s watching. His right hand however, raised two fingers shaped like a peace hand sign, before tapping it on the top front of his helmet, where his forehead should be. A sign. A language only him and her understand. A way of saying or showing i’ll be fine or you’ll be fine. She saw it. He knows she’s watching, witnessing. I’m living, Y/N. For you. For us. She turned her attention away, gathering their things, following Anthony who had stood beside her the whole time. Preparing for what would be a painful evening at the hospital, no matter how short or long. 

Everything that happened at the hospital was a blur to her. Pale fluorescent lights, murmured conversations with the doctor. Something about bruised ribs and nothing broken but he’ll be sore for a while. The hospital room they were in was too cold. Was it just the temperature playing its part, or the eerie chill in her bones that refused to leave? She didn’t even know. Y/N stood stiff at the corner of his hospital bed, Grace nestled in the crook of her neck, dozing off. Anthony sat on one side of the bed, one hand on Lewis’ thigh as the two men spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to wake Grace up, or pushing Y/N more to the edge of the cliff. 

She heard it all, as the words floated freely in the cold air of the room, but her eyes were too focused on the floor. And it’s torturous, how his eyes kept darting to his wife even as he was talking to his dad. Searching, calling, yearning, but her eyes refused to meet him. She couldn't even bring herself to even whisper. When all he wanted at that very moment was for her to scream in his face. Yelling. Telling him how worried she was. Put the blame on him. But she couldn't. Maybe, if she loved him less, her mouth would be able to do its job, spitting words, sentences. 

He had so much power over her. One that no one possesses. One that would make even the mightiest knights to lay down their shields on the ground, surrendering in defeat. She gave him that power. Handed it to him in a delicate box, wrapped with a fragile ribbon of love. Anthony’s gentle voice broke her unmoving gaze, offering her to take Grace into his arms, noticing how she hadn’t let go of the little sunshine since they left the track.

“No. She’s fine here. I’m fine.”

Hesitantly, Anthony nodded. Because he understood. She needed Grace in her arms. Not only because the little girl needed her, but also and mainly because she needed something to keep her from breaking down. Something to hold on to, to hide her shaking hands, to silence the trembles in her fingers. What isn't a part of ourselves will never hold the power to disturb us in any way. And maybe, just maybe, that's why all this shit disturbed her so much. Because it's a part of her that the track threatened to silence earlier today. Him. Her Lewis. That's why every tick, every breath, every whisper disturbed her mind so deeply, like a tsunami claiming its dominance through the alley it keeps on swallowing. So when Lewis called her name, she abruptly walked out in a careful manner. Leaving the room without sparing a glance at her husband. Something about wanting to check everything with the nurse before they leave, she said.

The flight home was unbearable. The luxury of the private jet did little to ease the tension. Nothing changed during the car ride home too. Suffocating him harder than his bruised ribs. Her eyes never left the window. Arms and hands hugging and caressing Grace’s back as she fell asleep in her arms. A rare occasion whenever Lewis is present. 

His brown eyes however, never left her tired face. Flickering to her every few minutes. His heart further declined, stretching its descent deeper and deeper as the tension in her jaw became apparent to him. The same one his lips had traced a thousand times in between the sheets, in the mornings where he would hug her from behind as she prepared breakfast.

Once the car pulled into the driveway of their house, Y/N immediately got out, carrying Grace inside without waiting for the man who had been waiting to see her eyes, hear her voice. Lewis stayed in the car for a silent few minutes. Weakly, his head fell back against the headrest that felt harder and rougher than the gravel. A long breath was exhaled. Shaky. His tears were pooling in his eyes. This wasn’t how he wanted to come back to her. This wasn’t what he meant every time he promised her to come home safe before every single race.

Come home safe. A phrase that she never missed to whisper in his ears as she hugged him, before every single race. Since the first race she attended after he handed her his heart, body, and soul. A promise. One that he would always reply with a soft I will, before kissing her lips and leaving another one on her forehead. 

Time. That’s what she needs right now. So that’s what he gave. When he finally stepped inside the house, he beelined his way straight to their bedroom. She wasn’t there. Probably in Grace’s room. In the kitchen maybe. Anywhere but close to him. Anywhere but in his arms. The shower he took was longer than usual. His body was in pain, but the wound in his heart was the one that digs deeper, through the flesh, deep into the marrow. Marking its territory in his heart with a bold move.

When he came down, the smell of curry hit him. Warm, but still unsettling. She had cooked his favourite dish. As he stepped into the kitchen, she was already placing his plate out. Just one. On his seat at their dining table. For him alone and him only. She’s not eating with me. He hesitated as he sat down, heart clenching. Eyes not meeting her. The soft hum from the kitchen light was the only calming thing in the room. It mingles with the clinks and clatters of the dishes and kitchen appliances as she moves mechanically. Creating a melody he never heard before, hating it as soon as the first note hit.

“Love,” a call to her. Soft and gentle. Even while his hands are clammy, shaking, to reach her skin. Not a single spoonful had gotten into his stomach ever since he sat down.

“Eat, Lewis.”

Even while her heart was breaking, leaving cracks as it declines and descends, she still prepared him dinner. Straightaway once they’re home, not caring about herself not getting even a single beat of rest. Making sure he’s not eating his meds on an empty stomach. But god, he hates how it sounded when that “Lewis” fell out of her soft lips just now. He always loved how his name sounded when she said it. How it sounded when she’s ‘mad’ at him for stealing her chocolates, how it sounded whenever he came up with stupid unhinged ideas, and how it sounded as he slipped in and out of her, pouring himself empty for her.

So he willed himself to finally find her, her eyes. A silent but loud plea. 

Look at me please.

She didn’t

Y/N please, look at me. Please. 

Again, nothing. But the knife plunged deeper this time. Because this time, he saw it. She was deliberately dancing around the kitchen, keeping her hands and mind busy. Cleaning, rearranging, wiping every single useless thing in the kitchen. Even the ones he had never seen or touched before. And it was so bright and loud. In visions and sounds. How she wasn’t even half as delicate and gentle as she usually was with everything. She’s retreating. He knows she was silently retreating into that one dark place in her beautiful mind. The one place she only pays a visit when the whole world is too much, when she feels like she is not safe. As if not a single corner on this earth is safe for her anymore. Not even in their house. Not even in his arms. She’s not feeling safe. He couldn’t let her retreat and seek shelter there. And he needs her eyes. Hell, he missed them.

“Sweetheart.”

The sweet nickname fell out of his mouth softly, but still stern. Enough to catch her attention, forcing her to slowly turn her tired body around, facing him. The man she almost lost. The man that made her almost lost herself. Finally, that pair of eyes. Those deep beautiful eyes that never failed to draw him in, calming him. Those eyes that hold so many layers he never wanted to stop peeling and discover. Those eyes that made him surrender, leaving him breathless. Finally, those exact same eyes that he fell in love with and still, will always be in love with landed on him. Soft and warm, a gentle kiss from the sunrise, before they shifted in just one swift blink. A cold flame, scolding him, scorching his face, leaving him no place to seek refuge. 

But fuck. She’s… beautiful.

“Come here please…”

She sighed, running her hand through her hair, pushing it back. Her hair is getting longer. A beat of silence. Please, come to me. And slowly, very slowly, she walked over to him. Crossing the small physical space between them that felt a thousand miles away emotionally. Once her body was close enough, reachable to him, he reached for her. His hands crawled its way back to one of their homes, her waist. Reminding him what he almost lost today. Tattooing a thought in his mind, about no matter how often his hands had laid there, it would never be enough. He pulled her closer to him, leaving no space in between except for the thin material of her soft blue shirt. His eyes were threatening to cry in relief, when she didn’t even fight him as she claimed her way in between his legs. Weakly, he let go. He let his head fall onto her soft stomach. I should have kissed it longer this morning. Breathing her in, inhaling a deep one. Unbelievably grounding and calming. Her right hand that hung loosely on her side now made its way into the collar of his white t-shirt. A soft caress before softly massaging away the tension in his left shoulder. 

Oh gosh. Her touch. Her scent. Her. 

It’s still not enough. These weren’t enough. If his body wasn’t sore and screaming in pain, he would have begged her to let him give and pour. He would have been on his knees tracing his favourite path inside her thighs whispering his apologies again and again like a broken record before carrying her into their bedroom. So he moved his hands to her small back, drawing soft and gentle circles against it. She got it. The whole exchange was him talking. It’s him laying down his apologies. It’s him pulling her out of that dark place in her mind, saving her. A knight even in his low point. It’s him asking her to be with him, right here, right now. 

I love you. I need you. Please.

“Eat with me.” “I’m not hu–”

Immediately, he raised his throbbing head. Don’t lie. He was looking her deep in the eyes, silencing her mouth and mind. Staring and reminding her. I know you. Reminding her he knows her. His wife. His last love. His home. The mother of his child. His safest place. He knows that her throat hasn’t swallowed a single drop of water since they left the pale and sickening hospital, let alone touching the tiniest bit of food. Even in this weak and fragile state, he cares. About her, more than himself. So please, let him care and lay down the safety net she needed. Let him catch her like she always does for him without a miss, not even once. Let me take care of you, love.

It’s a losing game, this whole exchange. This whole conversation that they are having only with their eyes. Honest. Open. It’s a game she should have surrendered before she even started playing. He’s patient. Persistent. Always the same strategy. Always the same tactic. Although this time, it took him more and longer to claim the gold medal. She swallowed an empty lump. 

He won.

“The food is getting cold.” “Sit down with me then.”

Her hand reached the nearest chair, placing it next to his before sitting down. His eyes never left hers. Not even for a second since they were laid on hers just now. His right hand found a way home to her small back as she started with the food. Gentle circles, ups and downs under her shirt, against her skin as she fed him the first spoonful. Warm. Safe. Soft. She stared at him after the first spoonful, waiting for a reaction. He gave her a soft wholesome smile. It’s delicious. 

But her stare lingered, hands unmoving, not preparing for a second one. He stared back, delicately.

She nodded. You’re okay.

He nodded. I’m okay.

She had no strength left to hold it in anymore. The dam had been destroyed. Freeing her tears that were flooding. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck. A lost traveler taking shelter and seeking solace under the shade of an enduring tree canopy. Stopping the downpour of her fears. Letting time pass without a worry. Like Neptune travelling its orbit. His arms wrapped around her. A blanket draped over her trembling figure. Silencing the noise outside. Not forgetting to kiss her long on top of her head. A constant so grounding and reassuring. 

He saw it today. It wasn’t the first time. But today, it shone brighter, sang louder, danced bolder, and stood stronger. Her strength. Her trying to keep it all in her together, all alone, for him, for little Grace. But at that moment, he didn’t want her to. He wanted her to lay her fears and worries bare and naked in front of him. He wanted her to feel safe, be safe. Here, in his embrace. The only place where he will give everything to silence her storms, leaving them weakened, lifeless. 

His wife. The woman who has a hold of his whole heart. Had fought herself violently today. Baring her teeth to her own emotions. Drowning it down with all her might. All because of an almost. But this moment, right now. Her, safe in the hold of his arms, the fog finally cleared out. Both of them had no hold on perfection. And the world won’t sit still. At any time, at any given moment, it will send down cruel war and games to make them crack. Today however, it became clear as a sky. Bleed if they must, cry if they have to, but neither him or Y/N will ever let go. With her, it’s worth it. With his Y/N.  Every crack worth a story to tell.

This is the kind of love Lewis and Y/N fights for. Fractured with cracks at times, but made and built stronger, more historical, more beautiful, through the tears and smiles they pour empty to mend it. Their own piece of Kintsugi.

“You came home.” “For you.”

[palefacestudentlove]

You can hear it in the silence [LH]

author’s note: incredible how this was supposed to be just a blurb but it ended up being an 11 page fic 😭 husband!Lewis is back, this is a happy fic (finally?), but I don't really like it, so I apologize in advance for what you're about to read

• masterlist

wc: 4492 - english is not my first language! feedback is always appreciated

Feeling like time wasn’t passing by fast enough, Lewis feels himself growing more and more impatient, his eyes flickering through the tall buildings he sees outside the car, the city standing high and powerful, making him feel small. 

There’s a hint of anxiety boiling in his chest - but the good kind: he is on his way home after two weeks away for work. His eyes are so close to landing on yours, his hands are about to hold your silhouette close to his, his lips are about to taste yours. And just the thought of being next to his family, is enough to make him bounce his leg in anticipation. 

He knows you are not home, though - you’d let him know that you would be out with your best friends to have brunch, while Grace would stay with your parents for the weekend. 

So, when his driver parks outside your shared house, Lewis takes his bags out of the car, putting them somewhere inside - not even caring about the mess that his infinite number of suitcases caused in the middle of the hallway.

Rushing, the man puffs himself with your favorite perfume of his, smiling at himself in the mirror before leaving the house, hopping in the car to finally meet you. 

Lewis leaves you a message, letting you know that he arrived safely and he is already on his way to meet you - not being able to hold even a second longer away from you. The way you replied back, with countless typos, numbers where letters should be, was enough to make your husband giggle - he knows how you enjoy the mimosas way too much, and the way the drink always hits your blood fast. Either way, he is happy that you are having a good time, and he can’t deny how relieved his heart feels, knowing that he will be able to take care of his tipsy wife. 

He doesn’t want to rush you to say goodbye to your friends, so he just texts you a simple “I’m outside, love. Whenever you are ready to go”, when he parks his car in front of the restaurant. 

Humming to the song that’s playing in the background, the man feels like he could wait for you for as long as you would wish: he wouldn’t complain. He has already waited weeks to be back home, feeling each second, each minute passing by terribly slowly while he is away from his family, sensing the time itching on his skin, making goosebumps appear every time he pictures his wife and daughter together, without him being by their side. 

His mind wanders through the infinite alleys of his brain, going from how badly he misses a cuddle session on the sofa with his two girls, to how urgently he needs to clean his car, finding some lost smarties that Grace dropped a while ago, now living under his seat.

Searching for more lost candy near his feet, his head perks up when he hears the car door opening. His eyebrows furrow when his eyes finally land on you - looking as beautiful as ever, but sitting in the back seat, instead of next to Lewis. 

Your face is buried in your phone, as if you can’t see the letters to type correctly, fighting for your life to send a simple text as “on my way” to your husband. When he hears his phone ringing, he checks your message, his brows lifting as a smile paints the corners of his mouth. 

- Hello? - the man says, trying to bring you back to reality, your fingers still mindlessly scrolling through your phone. At this point, you’re a little more than just ‘tipsy’ in Lewis’ book, but he could never describe the happiness that insists on rushing through him just by, finally, seeing you. - Oh, hi! Sorry, here’s my address - you slur, showing him the location to your house on your phone when you find the app you were looking for. 

Your eyes look small on your face, you keep yawning non-stop - the alcohol getting to you, in the exact same way as always. 

- Y/N? - Lewis calls, trying to get you to recognize him, leaning on his seat to look straight at you.  - Yes, it’s me! I don’t remember calling an uber, but one of my friends must have done it. Please just drive, my husband is waiting for me back home - you say, more to yourself than to him, but Lewis still catches every word of your slurred speech. 

Now, realization hits him. So you think he is your uber driver - that’s why you sat on the backseat. With the scenario making much more sense to him now, your husband sighs softly, ready to drive you home safely, knowing already that he won’t get much out of you in this state. 

The soft music is still playing in the background, filling the air between you two, before you decide to speak up.

- Did my husband call you to pick me up? - you question, not understanding how you ended up in the back of an uber. 

Giggling softly, Lewis thinks for a second. 

- I guess we can say he did, miss - looking at you through the mirror, he shows you a simple nod.

You close your eyes, and a smile finally paints your features, making the man’s heart flutter at the sigh. Your mind shows you some moments that you and Lewis last spent together before he left for work. 

- He’s the absolute bestest - you slur, leaning your head on the window, your arms hugging yourself as if to make up for the lack of his touch - or maybe it’s just to try and lull yourself to sleep on your way home. - Is he really? - Lewis smirks to himself as he listens to you, your voice making the tension in his body start to melt away. - Mhm - you nod your head softly, your eyes still closed. - I can’t wait to see him, me and our baby miss him so much, he has no idea.

Lewis' heart skips a beat at your words. He does know how badly you and Grace miss him, because he misses both of you in the exact same intensity, needing his girls around to be able to breathe correctly. 

When the car finally reaches for your gate, Lewis lets out a breath, getting out of the vehicle. 

- We have arrived at your destiny, miss - your husband tells you in a playful tone after opening the door for you, stretching his hand for you to take. 

Connecting your hand with his, you step outside the car. The sun shines in your face, illuminating your features for your husband to see - allowing his eyes to meet his wife in the most goddess way possible, all the lights shining out for you, reflecting on your skin as if you were made of gold. 

Lewis opens his arms for you, and that’s when something clicks inside of your chest. There was a feeling of familiarity lingering in the car, one that still pulls your body to his. Forcing yourself to wake up a little more, you realize what it is: the scent that your nostrils immediately recognize, your favorite perfume of your husband, the one that brings you so many good memories from the time you were pregnant with Grace, the one you would be able to recognize in any part of the world. 

Like a magnet, you wrap your arms around his body, your figures finally meeting in a much awaited hug.

- Oh, you were here all along - you giggled softly, feeling a bit shy by the way the drinks had the best of you. 

Lewis gives you a toothy smile, his strong arms holding you in place as you lean your body on his. 

- Always here to bring my girl home safely - the tip of his nose nudges yours, making a soft pink shade creep upon your cheeks as you share an intimate look. 

There’s a sparkle in your eyes, matching your husband’s as he can’t believe that he is finally back home, your faces mere inches apart as you take in each other’s presence. His fingers wrap around your waist tighter, trying to make sure that you are real, that you won’t disappear in the air, as if you were a dream. 

You’re not. And a bubble of excitement and nervousness grows in the pit of your stomach as well, as if it was the first time you were this close to Lewis. 

Shushing all your thoughts, you close the distance between your faces, your lips finally connecting in a loving, passionate kiss. One that screams I miss you, I love you. I need you, I want you. 

You both take your time, making the clock stop as the world slows down his movements just so you two can enjoy this moment of being reunited again. 

It amazes you how your routine has been like this for so many years now. Lewis is always on the move, frequently away for work, but somehow, it’s like your bodies can’t get used to the distance, to being apart. And every time he comes back, you can’t help but feel like a teenager again, meeting her forbidden love, one the parents would definitely not be fond of.  

Lewis melts when he gets to feel the warmth of your lips, savouring how sweet you always taste for him, enjoying the way your bodies and souls wrap in a divine dance, one that your frames have been craving for too long. 

Breaking the kiss to gasp for some air, your husband lets out a content sigh as his fingers move a strand of hair from your face - his hand caressing your features for a minute too long. 

- Let’s get you inside, yeah love? - he finally speaks, his voice hoarse as the environment between you two thickens. It really has been too long. 

Nodding your head ‘yes’, you wrap your arms around his torso, holding yourself to him so you won’t trip over your own feet.

As much as you pretend you have sobered up already, you are terrible at faking it. And now, you feel dizzier than before, your legs growing weaker as if the kiss you just shared, alongside the way his touch is burning against your skin, had just made you more drunk out of him. 

Either way, Lewis holds your figure without any effort, securing you by his side as you two walk inside the house. You’re in a fit of giggles, trying to make your head stop spinning, and your husband silently cusses himself as he sees his bags splattered across the hallway - the exact same place where he’d left them, but now they’ve formed this maze that your shape has to walk through without falling to the floor. 

If you were sober, you would definitely give him a piece of your mind about how he always leaves his suitcases scattered along the way, but now you just try to remain silent, your feet moving across the floor as your husband guides you to the bathroom. 

Lewis helps you sit on the counter as he gathers all your products to remove your makeup - knowing how you will love the feeling of touching your clean and fresh skin once you’re lying on the couch with him. 

- Alright love, let’s get you a bit more comfortable - the man whispers softly, almost as if you didn’t have to hear him, as if he is speaking more to himself as he pays attention to the pressure of his movements. 

Closing your eyes, you feel his silky touch, the way his fingers gently rub a cotton pad across your eyes. It’s slow, soft, thoughtful. His eyebrows are knitted as he focuses on his task, not wanting to hurt you - while he silently prays that you won’t try to make a sudden movement while he is touching your eyes. 

Silence fills the room - the pleasant type, one that would make you feel comfortable to be in the presence of your husband, without feeling the need to say a word. But today, the quietness is bothering you, your mind knowing the many things that you should help him catch up to, since he’s been away. 

- Grace painted this drawing of us getting married, after seeing our wedding photos - you blurt out, a soft smile on your lips while your eyes remain closed. 

Surprise paints his features at first, only to be met with a warm expression at the thought of his baby girl analyzing each detail of one of the most special moments of her mummy and daddy’s life. 

- Thank god I had a head full of hair already, don’t want to be met with the ‘bald’ allegations again - you and Lewis laugh at his words, remembering Grace’s reactions from the last time you showed her the family albums.  - Yeah, but she did state once again that you are old - you can’t control your laughs, and you can almost sense the way Lewis is shaking his head in disbelief. - I am away for two weeks and my daughter is out here saying that her dad is old. God, I don’t know what I did to deserve this karma - as much as he tries to sound serious, the giggles still escape his lips in between words, making you laugh even harder. 

But this wasn’t the only thing that happened while he was away. There’s a never ending list of things that you are eager to tell him about, and there’s no better moment to do it while you are sitting on the counter, your husband applying all your skin care products to your face. 

- Also, your mum baked this delicious carrot cake with chocolate, you know how Grace loves it. She ate so much cake that your dad fed her behind my back that she had this crazy sugar high, Jesus we were awake until 4 am, she wouldn’t sleep for the world! - you explain in just seconds, speeding up your speech as you grow afraid of forgetting something.  - Wait, what? - Lewis asks, but you don’t even realize it. - Oh yeah, and we found this new cooking show that Grace is apparently obsessed with? It’s presented by a very nice lady and our daughter wants to meet her apparently, do you think you can make that happen? - another fast thought passing through your brain like lightning.  - A what? Presented by who? - you cut off Lewis’ speech, realizing that there’s more news for him to catch up. - OH OH, and you have no idea what I just found out at brunch! One of my best friends, Katie, you know Katie, don’t you? Duh of course you do, she’s been dating Matt for some time now, you know? And you know what’s new? She’s pregnant! Oh my god I can’t believe I just found out that my best friend is pregnant, what if she asks me and you to be the baby’s godparents?! Oh my God Lew, we need to find a nice gift for our godson, we should do that right away- Lewis feels tired just from hearing how you are speeding, throwing all this information at him in seconds, sounding like a rapper with the world’s fastest verse. 

His hands gently land on your cheeks, interrupting your course of ideas, making you go silent for a second as his touch grounds you again. A heavy breath leaves your body, feeling as exhausted as you had just finished running a marathon. And yet again, silence wraps around you two, calming down your senses this time, as you can feel his breathing matching yours.

Slowly opening your eyes, you meet Lewis’ features, incredibly close to yours one more time. Your mouth is slowly agape, trying to gasp for some air, as his gaze carefully travels through each detail of your face, convinced that he is dedicated to paying attention to each layer of your soul. 

His fingers feel as soft as cotton candy, trailing paths on your cheeks as if he has the power of making flowers blossom in the crimson of your skin, causing a familiar warm to erupt through your chest. 

- Hi… - it’s all that leaves your mouth, almost feeling intimidated by the way he knows you so well, reading you perfectly.  - Hi, my love - he replies softly, planting an innocent kiss on the tip of your nose, followed by another on your forehead. - Cuddle session on the couch? - he lifts an eyebrow, inviting you to wrap your limbs with his, allowing you to hide your face in his neck, taking in your favorite scent of his, one that you always associate with the feeling of being home, wanting to make the most of this day when it’s just the two of you. 

And you could never say no to that. Lacing your bodies together, intertwining your souls as Lewis wraps his arms safely around you, the sensation of having your head on his chest making his heart flutter again, making him realize that no words can describe how badly he missed this, how much this little moment makes him feel at peace. 

You sigh comfortably, being engulfed by your husband’s protective touch, by the cologne on his neck that always works as a reminder of how much he loves you, due to all the stories attached to that perfume.

In the safety of your household, your little corner in this world, you feel safe around each other, comfortable to show all the sides of you that no one else knows, besides your partner. 

As one of your favorite songs starts playing on the television, you jump out of the sofa, watching how Lewis’ eyes wrinkle with a smile that appears on his face as you stretch your hand for him to take, using all your strength to pull him out from in between the pillows. 

Standing up, his frame immediately meets yours, his hands landing on your waist - helping your dizziness so you don’t trip. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you two start to dance - and everyone that saw your swaying figures could imagine that you would be dancing to some slow music, which is definitely not the case. You’re simply having fun, even if it’s a really energetic song, but your head just can’t deal with all the sudden moves without leaving you to feel light-headed.

You and Lewis share an enamoured smile, his gentle touch on your body as he slowly moves you through the living room. Your giggles echo on the walls as you imagine this scene as seen from the outside of your person. You picture a silly couple that can’t stop dancing and laughing inside the house, but the most important side of it, is the way you two do it out of love. 

Your husband is always up for your dances, the activities you plan for your family, using each and every moment to get a hand on you, to caress your cheek, to hold your waist, to write new memories on your shared book of life. 

And right now, with the way the remnants of the sun rays, that still feel brave enough to break through your windows, are painting a picture of your silhouette on the back of the living room, he feels in his heart that there’s nowhere he would rather be. 

It seems like you two are inside a snow globe - but one where the snow leaves space for the sun to play, inside the infinite bubble of love that represents your marriage, the luck of finding your soulmate and sharing the rest of your life next to each other. 

The light reflects on your body, illuminating your features, shining on your smile, and your frame is a prolongation of Lewis’ shape, emanating all the power and brightness towards him, making him see everything so much clearer when he is by your side - leaving no doubts in his mind and chest that you are, indeed, his lighthouse. The only thing he needs to be certain of. 

After your dance session, Lewis picks you up, going to lay back down to cuddle his energetic, dance-machine wife. With a soft kiss on your temple, he welcomes your head on his chest again - your favorite place to be. 

After a while of gentle touches and innocent kisses here and there, Lewis was convinced that you had fallen asleep already, feeling himself drifting off to his slumber as well - the thought of a nap sounding very enticing in his mind. Relaxing his body a little more, the man tries to get some rest, only to be met with another one of your intrusive thoughts. 

Out of nowhere, you sit up abruptly, causing Lewis to be startled by the sudden movement he wasn't expecting.

- You know, Lew, I’ve been thinking of getting a tattoo - your compromised tone, alongside the smirk painting your lips, make Lewis raise an eyebrow at you, knowing that you are onto something. - Something small, maybe your initials, or a little 44… - that’s everything that Lewis needs to hear before he is interrupting your train of thought. - Nope - it’s all that leaves his mouth, before he tries to reach for your arms, trying to pull you back down to cuddle him again.

Protesting, you stay in your place. 

- Why not? You know, most men would consider this idea to be very romantic! - your figure makes a laugh escape his lips, showing him your index finger in the air, as if you are stating a fact.

- Not me, though. You already have my last name and we made Gracie. I don’t need any more romantic proof from you, baby - a grin paints your husband’s face as you look at him with wide eyes, silence filling your end. - We… We- We did, yeah - a blush appears in your face again, not quite knowing what to say as you weren’t expecting to hear this type of answer. - Exactly. Now lay back down and stop trying to give me a heart attack with your crazy ideas - Lewis tells you, hugging your frame again as he kisses your cheek softly, now him being the one to duck his head on your neck. 

He is feeling tired from the ride back home, so this time you actually let him get some rest, your fingers softly playing with his braids, caressing his scalp the way he loves so much, feeling how his frame melts at your soft, caring touch.

You’ve definitely sobered up by now, feeling your head going back to normal and the tingling leaving your body as you feed yourself off of Lewis’ warmth, his frame holding on to you as the man peacefully gets some sleep.

But, as much as you try to close your eyes and sleep for a while too, you can’t. You feel way too electric, your mind running with a thousand questions and answers per minute. The way you can’t stop touching your husband’s body gives out how anxious you feel now, your fingers massaging his back softly - showing how you feel unable to stay still. 

You don’t know how much time has passed by now - it definitely feels like hours, and you just know that you are growing bored and impatient. The TV shows are boring, nothing can distract your running mind, and you just want Lewis to wake up, so he can give you some more of his attention. 

Gently nudging him, you call his name softly, waiting for the man to decide to wake up. This was supposed to be a nap, not an 8-hour sleep. Soon enough, Lewis groans at the way your finger is continuously touching his shoulder, in an attempt to get his attention. 

- Lew, babe, do you think Gracie would like a sibling? - it’s not your fault, you swear it’s not! The question stuck in the front of your mind when Lewis mentioned the fact that having her was an act of love. 

Your husband doesn't even mind opening his eyes at your question. Instead, he just moves to hug your body more, making himself more comfortable in the middle of your cuddles. 

- Shhhh love, we’re trying to sleep - he groans mindlessly, not processing any information as he just tries to go back to his slumber state. 

You scold at the way he is treating you - in the exact same way he would deal with Grace when she doesn’t want to go to bed. And just like Grace, you ignore his pleas to rest. 

- What if we try for another baby and end up having triplets? Triple the fun! - an excited little scream escapes your lips, only to make your husband bury his head deeper into your neck.  - Baby girl, I am willing to give you an entire football team if you threaten to keep me awake right now - his thick voice whispers in your ear, his fingertips digging on the skin of your hips.

The way your husband softly kisses the sweet spot on your neck just to tease you, makes a million of newfound thoughts linger in your brain now. And it’s the way his body feels warm against yours, his careful movements, added to how much you miss him - in the middle of the silence, admitting that the scenario doesn’t seem so bad to you.

You smirk as you open your legs a little wider, framing his body with yours, welcoming his idea - even if you know that he wasn’t completely serious about it.

Lewis notices your actions, and a smile grows in his face, laughing while his face is buried in your collarbone. There is the silliness that makes him giggle, that marks his days when both of you are allowed to be comfortable with your most unthoughtful actions, without feeling judged. 

Finally looking up at you, he gives you a glimpse of his sleepy features. And even when his face is laced with tiredness, your heart still skips a beat at the sight of the most gorgeous man that you have ever seen, the one that you are blessed enough to be married to. 

- I love you so much, silly - the confession that unravels all the ropes that bind your brain in the darkest nights, the arms that embrace you, and the eternity of evermore by your side, stripping the sky from all the colors, just to paint your body with them.  - I love you more, Lew - it’s him. Your husband, Grace’s daddy. Your safe haven, the place where you belong, the one that makes everything feel right. 

And right now, as the sun starts setting down in the horizon, when the pink and orange shades of the sky reflect on the walls of your living room, silence goes back to feel like home, again, as you kiss the love of your life, in a never ending promise of a family, of a forever, that only exists when you’re by each other’s side. 

[palefacestudentlove]

eat delicious things in every sense. savor novels that unravel slowly, like decadent meals for the mind. let sunlight kiss ur skin, bask in its warmth like an endless summer. hold close the people who make you feel alive, kiss them tenderly, love them fiercely. laugh at bad jokes, the kind that make you roll ur eyes but secretly smile. plant basil on your windowsill, water it with care, breathe in its fragrance as you stir it into your meals. be unafraid to indulge in beauty, to notice it everywhere and to consume it greedily. there is no virtue in starving yourself of joy, no wisdom in rationing delight.

[palefacestudentlove]

To think it all started with RC cars

[palefacestudentlove]

Happy birthday to this gorgeous soul.

Thank you Lewis for encouraging us all to shoot for the stars, never settle for the moon, but still take pride in the process.

The world is a better place with you in it - and that's not even a cliché. Thank you for taking the time, effort and money to invest on what you believe in.

For inspiring me to believe in myself, even at what might be perceived as our highest, and taking the leap as the greatest form of respect to my path and to who I am.

[palefacestudentlove]

posting one drawing per day for each season until Lewis's birthday ~ 2025! a new chapter for him :D looking forward to this season!!!! and happy birthday lewis!

the fans in the background are wearing mclaren, mercedes, ferrari caps :D it seemed fitting that way! thank you so much for all the support for this series! I had so much fun working on this!!

[palefacestudentlove]

Husband!Lewis taking you on vacation to a really nice resort only for you to get extreme food poisoning on the first night and being ill for the rest of the night.

“This is not the type of gagging I thought I was going to be doing.”

“Babe, your temperature is 102. Please be serious.”

the way this made me laugh first thing in the morning omfg 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I wanna write this so I can giggle while I do

[palefacestudentlove]

lewis drives old mercs with martin brundle

[palefacestudentlove]

Salt and Starlight - Lewis Hamilton

Lewis's 40th birthday special part 1

warnings: none

genre: fluff

wordcount: +2k

a/n: It's a '3 times y/n's made Lewis feel like a teenager (on the brink of turning 40) and the one time he did' (except that last bit is the part 2 coming later)

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

______________________________________________________________

What do you give someone who has it all? He is Lewis Hamilton, after all.

I’d been asking myself that question for weeks.

Lewis isn’t exactly the kind of guy who needs another watch, another car, or another piece of art for his collection.

He’s got it all—trophies, fame, money, and a closet full of designer clothes that probably cost more than my first car.

So, what do you give that man ?

The answer came to me one night when we were lying in bed, talking about nothing and everything.

I’d been reminiscing about growing up by the beach, about the stupid, reckless things I did as a teenager that made me feel alive. Lewis had laughed, that deep, warm laugh of his, and said, “God, it’s been years since I’ve felt anything that… teenagery.”

And there it was. My gift to him.

“Are you sure this isn’t just an elaborate ploy to embarrass me?” Lewis asks, tugging the brim of his bucket hat lower over his sunglasses. The hoodie he’s wearing makes him look like a man trying to sneak out of a high school reunion unnoticed.

Which, okay, is kind of the vibe I was going for.

The drive to Santa Barbara was… well, let’s just say Lewis loved being a passenger princess, most times, and that wasn’t one of them.

He kept fidgeting, adjusting the seat, and asking if I was sure I knew where I was going. (Spoiler: I did. Mostly.)

But by the time we pulled up to the boardwalk, the sun was setting, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange, and he finally stopped asking questions.

The amusement park was exactly how I remembered it—bright lights, the smell of cotton candy and fried food, the sound of laughter and screams from the thrill rides. It was chaos, but the good kind.

The kind that makes you feel alive.

“You’re not serious,” Lewis said, staring at the roller coaster like it might bite him.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the line. “Come on, old man. Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

He glances down at me, a boyish smile breaking through his mock-suspicious expression. “Always.”

And there it is—the grin I was waiting for.

The one that reminds me of the Lewis who still feels like a kid sometimes, who loves the thrill of life just as much as his achievements.

For once, Lewis doesn’t have an itinerary. No obligations, no pressures. Just us.

We hit every ride that promises to throw us around like ragdolls. Rollercoasters that make my stomach drop (and Lewis laugh at my shrieking), bumper cars where I play dirty and spin him into the wall, and that spinning thing that got me questioning my life choices.

By the time we got to the Ferris wheel, the sky was dark, the stars just starting to peek through.

The Ferris wheel was… different. Slower. Quieter.

As we climbed higher, the noise of the park faded away, and it was just us, suspended in the air. Lewis was quiet, staring out at the ocean, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed him too far with this.

“This was the plan all along, wasn’t it?” he says as he leaned into me. His voice is light, but there’s that knowing look in his eyes.

I feign innocence. “What plan?”

“The Ferris wheel. The whole night was a setup for this.”

I smirk, settling into the seat beside him. “You’re giving me way too much credit.”

The wheel begins to turn, the car gently rocking as we rise above the chaos below. The lights from the boardwalk blurring, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.

The world feels smaller up here, quieter.

He shifts closer, and I can feel his gaze on me, warm and intent. “This was a good idea.”

I smiled, leaning into him. “I have those sometimes.”

And then he leans in, his lips brushing against mine.

It starts softly, like he’s savoring the moment, but it deepens quickly, and suddenly the air feels electric. My mind goes blissfully blank, except for the thought that this—this might’ve been what I wanted all along.

When we finally break apart, his forehead rests lightly against mine, and he’s grinning like a teenager who’s just stolen his first kiss. “This feels straight out of a cheesy rom-com.”

“Good,” I manage, still catching my breath. “It’s meant to.”

He laughs, and it’s the kind that bubbles out of him, genuine and unguarded. And I think, there it is again.

That boyish smile I’d give anything to keep seeing.

“You know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “this is exactly how I imagined love when I was a teenager.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. “Yeah? Did you imagine me too?”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “Shut up.”

And then the Ferris wheel started moving again, and we were laughing, and for the first time in a long time, Lewis looked… free.

We were still laughing as we stumbled off the Ferris wheel, my hand in his, the cool ocean breeze brushing against our skin.

Lewis had that look in his eyes—the one he gets when he’s trying to play it cool but is secretly having the time of his life.

It’s rare, these days, to see him so unguarded.

“You know,” he said, pulling me closer as we walked, “I haven’t done anything like this in… I don’t even know how long.”

“What, ridden a Ferris wheel?” I teased, bumping my shoulder against his. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “No, I mean… this. Just… being spontaneous. Letting go.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Lewis Hamilton, are you telling me you’ve never been spontaneous? Because I find that hard to believe.”

He shrugged, that infuriatingly charming smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” I ask, bumping my shoulder against his as we weave through the crowd.

He gives me a sideways glance, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “Nothing. Just you, scheming. Don’t think I don’t know you planned that whole Ferris wheel moment.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile that sneaks out. “Oh, please. Like I can predict what’s going to happen in the heat of the moment.”

He hums noncommittally, but the way his hand slides into mine, fingers lacing tightly, tells me he’s not buying my act. And I’m not about to argue with him on that. Ever

We walk aimlessly for a while, the neon lights of the boardwalk fading behind us as we drift toward the quieter streets. It’s one of those perfect in-between moments—neither here nor there, where everything feels suspended, and nothing needs to make sense.

That’s when he says it.

“You know,” he starts slowly “you were right earlier. About the Ferris wheel. It did feel… teenagey.”

I smirked. “Told you.”

He hesitated, then said, “So… what’s next?”

I blinked at him, surprised. “What do you mean, what’s next?”

He shrugged, but there was a glint in his eye that made me suspicious. “You’re the one who planned this whole thing. What’s the next stop on the nostalgia train?”

I stared at him for a moment, then grinned. “Well… there is one thing” and before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. “We should get that tattooed. Like, right now.”

For a split second, I expect him to laugh, to brush it off with a comment about how I’m clearly delirious from all the carnival food. But instead, he just raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “What, the ferries wheel?”

“No, ‘40,’” I say, half-joking, half-serious. “Something simple. For this moment, for you.”

To my surprise, he doesn’t immediately shut it down. Instead, he tilts his head, considering. “You’re serious about this?”

“I mean… why not?” I shrug, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “You’ve got plenty. One more won’t kill you.”

He hesitated, and I could see the wheels turning in his head.

Lewis doesn’t do things on a whim—not anymore. His tattoos are works of art, carefully planned and executed by the best artists in the world. The idea of walking into some random parlor and getting inked on a whim was probably giving him hives.

He looks at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. And then he smiles, that slow, deliberate smile that makes me feel like he’s about to say something I’m not ready for. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

“Wait, what?”

“You said it yourself. Why not?”

And just like that, we’re standing outside a tattoo parlor that looks like it hasn’t seen a renovation since the early 2000s. The buzzing sound of the needle greets us as we step inside, along with the unmistakable scent of disinfectant and a tattoo artist who looks thoroughly unimpressed with our arrival.

“What are we doing?” I whisper as Lewis fills out the paperwork, his calmness somehow making me more nervous.

“Living like teenager, apparently” he says simply, handing me the pen to fill out my form. “You know, like… spontaneous, stupid, matching tattoos. The kind you get when you’re young and dumb and think it’s a good idea.”

The design we settle on is simple: the number 40, styled in a subtle, abstract way that could mean anything to anyone else. It’s perfect.

Mine goes on my wrist, tucked just under my watch strap. His ends up near his elbow, seamlessly blending into his sleeve, the one he’s spent years building.

When it’s my turn, I flinch at the first touch of the needle, earning a quiet chuckle from Lewis. “Don’t start,” I warn, gritting my teeth as the artist works.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he says, his voice entirely too amused.

When it’s done, we step back to admire our matching tattoos. They’re small, subtle, and utterly reckless in a way that feels right.

“40,” he says, his voice soft but laced with meaning as he looks at the ink.

I glance at him, my chest tightening in a way I wasn’t expecting. “The big four-oh.” I echo.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t look at me. “Here we go.”

I grin, nudging his arm with my shoulder. “What? It’s a big deal. A milestone. People throw whole festivals for this kind of thing. They buy sports cars.” I pause, then laugh. “Well, I guess you’ve already got the cars covered.”

“Funny,” he says, finally glancing at me. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, but it fades quickly, replaced by something softer, more reflective. “It doesn’t feel like a big deal. Not really. It’s just… a number.”

“Uh-huh.” I tilt my head, studying him. “And how many times have you told yourself that the past month?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Too many.”

By the time we’ve grabbed more food—a greasy basket of fries—it’s late. The boardwalk is still buzzing behind us, but we’ve drifted to the sand, away from the crowds.

The ocean stretches out before us, vast and dark, lit only by the moon and the occasional flicker of a far-off boat.

Lewis sits beside me,  his hands occasionally finding their way onto my back his hoodie pulled up against the chill of the night. I watch as he unwraps his burger with careful precision, like the fate of the world rests on not spilling ketchup.

“Not bad for a last-minute dinner date,” I say, popping a fry into my mouth.

He looks at me, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Not bad at all.”

We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the waves filling the gaps. I can feel him thinking, though.

The way his fingers drum lightly against his knee, the slight furrow in his brow—it’s all there if you know where to look.

“You’re being suspiciously quiet,” I say, nudging him lightly with my elbow.

He glances at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He takes a bite of his burger, chewing slowly as if buying time to form an answer. Finally, he swallows and looks out at the water. “About this. About everything, really.”

“Everything?” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “That’s… vague.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “My birthday. Turning 40.”

I pause, the fry I was about to eat halfway to my mouth. “Oh, you’re having a midlife crisis?” I grin, trying to lighten the mood.

He gives me a look—half amused, half exasperated. “I’m not having a midlife crisis.”

“Sure sounds like one.”

He laughs, but it’s softer this time, his gaze still fixed on the ocean. “It’s not that I’m worried about turning 40. I just… I don’t know. It’s a lot to think about.”

I stay quiet, letting him take his time. You don’t rush these kinds of conversations.

“It’s funny,” he continues. “I’ve spent my whole life in this sport. Every year, every decision—it’s all been about racing. And now I’m here, about to hit 40, and…” He trails off, shaking his head.

“Hm?” I prompt gently, not pushing, just giving him space.

“And I thought I’d feel more certain about where I am.” He exhales, a long, slow breath that seems to carry years of weight. “I’ve told myself so many times I wouldn’t still be racing at this age. But here I am, and I don’t want to stop. Not yet. And now, with Ferrari…”

His voice breaks off again, and I see his hand flex slightly, like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach.

“You’re scared,” I say quietly, not as an accusation, just an observation.

He laughs, but it’s more bitter than lighthearted. “Terrified…. Not of the racing—I know I can still do that. But of… everything else. Of failing, of not being enough. Of proving the people right who think I’m too old or that I should have stopped like Nico.”

I set my burger down, leaning toward him. “You’re not afraid of proving them right, Lewis. You’re afraid you might believe them.”

That gets his attention and his gaze snaps to mine, something flashing in his eyes.

“It’s not that I doubt myself completely,” he says after a moment. “But it’s there, in the back of my mind. This little voice asking if I’m trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping away.”

I take a breath, my heart tightening at the vulnerability in his words. “You’re not just holding on. You’re still building something. And you’re allowed to want that, even at 40.”

He looks down, his jaw tightening briefly. “I want to believe that. I really do… But then I think about all the things I’ve given up along the way—time with family, relationships, moments I’ll never get back. And I wonder if it’s selfish to keep chasing a dream.”

I nod, my chest tightening. “I get it. And I think it’s good that you’re thinking about these things. It means you care.”

His head tilts slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple. It’s messy, and ugly, and complicated, and terrifying. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just watches me with an intensity that makes my chest ache.

“I’ve never been good at slowing down,” he admits finally. “Even now, there’s so much I want to do. So many dreams I’ve had since I was a kid that I’ve never had time for. And part of me wonders if I ever will.”

“You will,” I say softly. “Maybe not all of them at once. But you will. We will.”

He sighs, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leans back on his hands, staring up at the stars. “Sometimes I wish I still had that recklessness, but with everything I know now.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works; you know that don't you, grandpa?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckles, the sound warmer this time. “Fair point.”

After a beat, he smirks, glancing at me. “You keep calling me old though, but I don’t remember you complaining last night.”

I burst out laughing, shaking my head. “Oh, shut up. You’re ruining the moment.”

He grins, and just like that, the heaviness of the conversation lifts slightly, replaced by something lighter but no less real.

As we get up to leave, I brush the sand off my hands and glance at him. “For the record, I like vintage Ferraris better anyway.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it. There’s another teenager dream I’ve always had.”

He laughs as he reaches for my waist, and this time, it’s full and unrestrained. The sound carries over the waves, as he turns me around on the sand and captures my lips with his once again.

There, under the moonlight I know how much I love this man—even when he’s scared, even when he’s uncertain.

Especially then.

_____________________________________________________________

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[palefacestudentlove]

jan 7 so happy birthday lewis hamilton 💓😚

[palefacestudentlove]

damon hasn't looked back since silverstone 2024

[palefacestudentlove]

Ferrari has decided to use all the 1000 TPC hours made available by the FIA to get Lewis acclimatized with the team

[palefacestudentlove]

SHUT UPPPP

[palefacestudentlove]

Lewis will get 1000kms of running in a Ferrari of his choice (between F1-75 and SF-23) before the 2025 car launch. The dates are weather dependent

[palefacestudentlove]

Sir Lewis Hamilton by Van Mossevelde + N for GQ Italia (2017)

[palefacestudentlove]

l am genuinely curious of your pov as a writer. especially for this new plot. seriously. because at least for me this plot is just another level. so im curious to how are you taking it? and how does it feel from the writer pov when you write this, when you listen to the soundtracks. how you feel about each character, each scene. which bit or detail is your fav and why. i know it takes a lot. bcs i put a lot when i did a small short film for uni years ago, so i know how the interesting the process is. genuinely want to know if you're willing to share 🌞

HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO COOL I LOVE THIS TYPE OF QUESTIONS SO SO MUCH!!!!

Omg okay. So, unfortunately I haven’t had the time to fully dedicate myself to this plot yet, I’ve only been trying to absorb all these different ideas and scenarios, trying to find ways in my mind to put the whole story together.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt the thoughts for a plot as deeply as I’ve been feeling these ones, and it just sucks because I genuinely want to write it so so much but I can’t right now and it kills me 😩 but the process is basically always the same when I am writing an angst: I always need to find a song that fits the vibe of the plot for me, so I can get in the right mindset to write it. So now I have the soundtracks you girls have sent me, so you’ll save me some time searching for the right song 😅

As I’ve stated some times before, the emotions and thoughts that you girls read on my angsts, are my own thoughts and feelings. When I put myself in the right headspace to develop an angst, it genuinely feels like I’m playing with my own feelings, so I can see myself in that scenario, feeling everything so much closer to me, so I can pour all of me into it. And that takes so much, honestly. Because I genuinely feel so sad, so vulnerable, so hurt when writing those plots, picturing myself in the shoes of each character, searching my own emotions for the right ones to develop on the story, and that leaves me absolutely exhausted when I finish one of those pieces. Because it’s a part of me that I’m putting out here. It’s some of my old wounds, that I’m cutting open again so my characters can bleed through me, so I can express the truth behind the words that you read.

So even if I’m writing about Lewis acting like a dick, it’s also a close scenario to me. Because I either acted that way as well, or someone acted that way towards me, and I keep all of those details and experiences very close to me, so I can use them when I get my hands on the right plot, that deserves for me to unveil another part of me and my personal stories. It’s my truth as a writer.

From the structure that I have in my mind for this plot so far, I’m very excited to explore the scene of the girl knocking on his door, only to find him with another girl. The hurt, the shattering of her world right then and there: that’s where the actual plot begins, in my opinion, and the loss of the baby will just pile upon the pain she was already feeling because of his actions. And the scene of him seeing her again after everything, Jesus Christ I can’t wait to describe that interaction between them, the touches, the thoughts, the feelings. And I already know that I will need to dig so deep in myself to live up to this plot, I know it’s going to leave me completely destroyed for days 🥲

It’s an interesting process, when you stop and take a look at it, but as I said, it truly is exhausting. I’m using my own feelings like a puppet, so the story can feel a bit more real to the ones who read it. That’s why all my angsts are so dear to me: cause you are reading me, my experiences, my emotions, my stories. Of course I adapt my experiences to fit the scenes of the different plots, but the feelings behind them, are always, always real, and always based on something that happened to me in my 24 years of living. Holy shit this is way too long, I hope this answers your question?? I’m sorry if it doesn’t 😭😭

[palefacestudentlove]

And also, I swear this is the last post and then I’ll shut tf up: I’m sorry if me talking about this and analysing this page and all that sounds boring. But it’s important to me. Also this is my field of studies and part of things I’ve worked on, so I can’t separate that part of my brain from the part that just writes and has a blog.

Yes, I should post what I enjoy writing, without caring much about people’s opinions and all that, but that’s not really how it works. At least not for me :) I’m a content creator, but I am only able to share my content with so many people because I have an audience - that you girls created around my page. This is a mutual relationship and if one of the parts separates from the other, there’s no reason in sharing stories to a blank page, if no one is going to read them - same way there’s no reason for you to follow a page that doesn’t give you anything to interact with, or at least the type of content you want to read.

I’ve stated since day one that you girls are very important for this blog, and this is one of the reasons why. I don’t have a platform to share my writing if my audience isn’t there. So this is more than just posting whatever I want, I have respect and understanding for the people who give me attention, who take minutes and hours of their time to read me.

I obviously won’t give into things that I’ve been honest about before, I will still put my feelings and will for writing certain plots first, but if something is not working out in this blog for my audience, I want to understand what that is, so we can find a way that makes both parts happy, so we can all continue to enjoy this page :) that’s all!