#lewis/miles
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i think about this video a lot
#lewis hamilton#miles chamley watson#lewis/miles#fencer44#f1#video#pls... the way he pulls lewis in and holds him to his chest!! arm around him !!#lewis's family in the bg !!!
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vanity fair 22 / w magazine 2021 / the gentleman’s journal 2020
#for my own archives 😁#met gala 2016 u quite literally changed lives#lewis/miles#miles chamley watson
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Sometime you just need lewis and miles being a snuggle bug 🐞
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Miles is wearing the 'Still I rise chain', isn't he..
(Photo by 13thwitness)
#Don't want the one to be saying it..but Lewis is looking here awfully similar to a certain Brazilian#lewis hamilton#miles chamley watson#lewis/miles#met gala 2019#f1
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hello i am here for toxic brocedes :)
Post Met Gala 2016, Lewis/Nico with a hint of Lewis/Miles, 1.2k
In the end, Lewis can’t bear to go to the afterparty. He can’t imagine cramming himself into a booth, nodding his head to the glitzy thump of American dance pop, and watching Miles dance and drink and flirt like he didn’t just alter the course of Lewis’s life. So he takes a car back to the Manhattan apartment—drives it himself, even, silent behind the wheel—and sits in the underground parking garage with the engine still running until the worst of the emotion drains out of him. If he was always going to leave alone, it was better that he left on his own terms.
He shuts off the car, ducks out and orients himself towards the elevator. It must have started raining when he was inside the Met, and now it’s all seeped underground, dripping from the concrete ceiling and pooling in the potholes on the garage’s asphalt. The heels of his loafers click and echo. He steps inside the elevator when it arrives.
His apartment is a swanky two-bedroom on the ninth floor that Nicole picked out for him when he was sufficiently big-time to require a base in New York. He still remembers clutching her to his side in this exact elevator while she teetered in her heels, drunk and cold after a night out. That was years ago. He blinks, realizing he hasn’t yet selected his floor. The elevator lurches into motion a moment later, and Lewis’s stomach clenches.
He’s still seeing Miles in his mind’s eye when the elevator opens on his floor. The fucking striped suit. The bleach blonde fucking hair. Miles was seated next to Rihanna, which meant it was impossible for Lewis to make any kind of impression. He blows out a tense breath, halfway down the hallway to his door. As if Miles would want him that way.
Lewis twists the key in the lock, and nudges the door open with his shoulder, expecting the dim stillness of his empty apartment. Orange light spills into the hallway when the door opens instead.
Lewis squints against the light. His head is pounding like the hangover is already kicking in.
“You look rough,” says Nico.
Lewis blinks rapidly, as though shaking a nightmare, but it really is Nico. The shape of him resolves, hunched over a bottle of rum at Lewis’s kitchen island. His blonde hair is too short to flop in his face like it used to. Lewis shuts the door behind himself and kicks his shoes in the vague direction of the closet.
“What are you doing here,” says Lewis. His voice is deadpan and gravelly. Like a smoker, or someone who doesn’t care.
“I saw you on TV,” says Nico, lifting his glass and swirling it around. There are only a few millimetres left, and the bottle is half empty. “You’re… really doing it.” He raises the glass to his lips, but doesn’t drink. “You’re growing out of me.”
Fuck it, Lewis thinks, tossing his keys on the island and sliding into a seat across from Nico. He gestures for the glass, and Nico tops it up obligingly and slides it over. When Lewis drinks, he knows he’s tasting Nico’s saliva on the rim.
“Another one,” says Lewis. Nico tips another few fingers of rum in the glass and Lewis tosses it back. The last time he and Nico were this civil in such close proximity was the beginning of 2013, before Nico was married.
“What are you drinking to?” says Nico, watching Lewis sip on his third glass, cheek resting in his palm, blue eyes limpid underneath the pendant lights.
Lewis sucks down another bitter sip. “I met someone,” he says.
Nico raises an eyebrow. Lewis doesn’t know what reaction he was expecting.
“He’s a fencer,” says Lewis. “Tall, blonde, stylish.”
“And where is he now?” says Nico, glancing around theatrically. It doesn’t have the intended effect, probably because Nico is completely wasted.
“Probably fucking Rihanna,” says Lewis. “Fuck.” He presses his face into his hand. His cheeks are numb. Nico snorts across the island, wiggling the glass out of Lewis’s lax grip and pouring himself another drink.
“I know something that will make us both feel better,” says Nico.
Lewis unburies his face from his hand and fixes Nico with a serious look. He’s only here because Lewis gave him a key when he was still sleeping around on Nicole, and because he saw Lewis on TV and booked a flight to New York, apparently. Nico’s lips are wrapped around the rim of the glass, where Lewis’s just were. He doesn’t look like he’s expecting much.
“No thanks,” says Lewis.
Nico shrugs. “Fair enough. I’ll try again in the morning.”
“How do you figure?” says Lewis.
“I don’t think either of us want to sleep alone tonight,” Nico hazards.
“And what if you’re wrong?” says Lewis. He wants another drink, but he’s still got another twenty minutes before his last few catch up with him. He might end the night kneeling over the toilet bowl. It’s a good thing Nico’s here after all.
“Feel free to send me packing,” says Nico. “I don’t think you’re going to, though.”
Lewis presses his fingertips into the granite countertop. He watches the flesh under his nails turn white. “You’re really fucking irritating, you know,” says Lewis.
“I know,” says Nico, tilting his head.
“You fucking did this to yourself,” says Lewis, gesturing. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing with his hands, other than showing that he’s angry. “You stranded yourself at my apartment because you wanted to test me like this.”
“Test you?” says Nico.
“Yeah,” says Lewis. He can hear himself slurring. It’s remarkable that Nico is still speaking so elegantly. “You want to measure how much I want you.”
Nico snorts. “I’m getting the sense that it’s less than you used to. I fucking miss wanting you, though. I’m sorry your fencer is straight.”
“Yeah,” says Lewis, choking on a little laugh. He misses it too. There’s a hole in him where his feelings for Nico used to be. It’s like the black spot that you see when you stare at a lightbulb for too long, when the rods and cones in your retinas get so excited they burn out. “Come on,” he says, sliding out of his seat.
Nico trails after him, towards the bedrooms in the back of the apartment. “I told you you weren’t going to,” he says.
“Shut up,” Lewis tells him. When he reaches the bathroom, he digs a spare toothbrush out of the mirror cabinet and hands it to Nico. “Wait your turn,” he says.
Nico makes a funny face at that, but he backs out of the bathroom and leaves Lewis to fumble drunkenly around the bathroom for his cleanser and his toothpaste. He finishes up after an indeterminate age, mouth thick with the taste of rum and spearmint, like the foul aftermath of a mojito, and pads out of the bathroom, head spinning.
Nico is sitting on the foot of the bed clutching his spare toothbrush when Lewis enters the bedroom. “I’m finished,” says Lewis, lamely. He strips his shirt off and tosses it at the laundry bin. Nico disappears into the bathroom. Lewis tries to conjure Miles, if only to torture himself, but his thoroughly intoxicated imagination can’t manage it. At least something worked. He slides into bed between cold sheets and buries his head in the pillow. A few minutes later, Nico joins him, tenting the sheets at Lewis’s back.
“Goodnight, Lewis,” says Nico.
Lewis shuts his eyes and carefully doesn’t think about what the fuck he’ll do tomorrow morning when he wakes up sober with Nico in his bed.
“Goodnight,” Lewis croaks, willing sleep towards him.
#i am sincerely interested to hear thoughts on the lewis/nico lewis/miles overlap! i'm trying to catch lewis in the transitional phase#where brocedes is well and truly ending but lewis hasn't yet become the person that could date a man other than nico#i wrote this#brocedes#lewis/miles
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miles’s instagram is first and foremost a lewis hamilton fan account
#the last pic makes me feel ill#like ?? the triangle of light framing them ??? are YOU SERIOUS !!!!!!!#literally not even all of the lewis pics in the post. my phone is just acting weird#lewis/miles#lewis hamilton#miles chamley watson#spinz#f1
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Post Quali at the Hungarian Gp 2023
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Hey! After a deep dive into Lewis/Miles content (have you seen the amount of pics??? and the videos???), we've decided with @12romy that we need more fics about them.
So, send a one-word prompt, and I'll write something about Lewis/Miles! And to inspire you, here's a few pictures
Don't hesitate to reblog this and join the game, let's make as many Miles/Lewis content as possible! ;))
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Miles is now a Red Bull athlete, a Mercedes ambassador and has a bestie going to Ferrari.
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i always chuckle when i see miles doing commercials with mercedes…like yes ofc he’s got this brand deal with the company his boyfriend drives for in formula one, and ofc he will get all the designer cars and photo shoots looking all pretty
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couple with matching posts etc etc
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33, 94 Miles and Lewis hehe 😘
Awwww what a cute prompt!!! So 33 is Baby fic and 94 is hair braiding! You get a mini fic for it, here we gooooo
Enjoy 😘
Their daughter has their hair. It isn't really surprising, and Lewis loves that she is the perfect mix of himself and Miles - although, she's going to be tall, he can tell, taller than him. He's already fretting the teasing he'll get, when she'll have caught up with him.
No, the thing with her hair, is that it's thin, fuzzy, and curly, and it takes ages and a lot of care to get it under control. Worst than his or Miles.
He understands why Miles keeps his own short. As for him, he never did it himself. It was always someone else braiding it for him.
At first, professional hair dressers. For the past few years, it has been Miles.
Which is a good thing, actually, because Miles has a lot of practice, thanks to this, and he is able to tame their daughter's hair so easily that Lewis is almost jealous.
Lewis tried, really. It just takes so long, it's so precise and so complicated, however, that he ended up giving up. Mostly, his daughter asked him to stop because it hurt, and it didn't even look pretty - kids could be cruel, but she had a fair point.
Since then, Lewis is content to simply be watching Miles braid her hair, then ask for his turn. Miles always smiles softly, and nods.
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march 2022 -> Jan 2024
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A real unaltered screenshot… they are so brave
#pausing the charles/damiano moment to revive lewis/miles nation#this is literally how it reads to me whenever miles posts ‘bestie’ and ‘brother’#like. that is your BOYFRIEND#lewis/miles#blah blah blah
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😵💫😵💫😵💫
#the possessiveness of miles’s hand on lewis’s back And this being the first pic of his photo dump#in fuckinh sane !!!!!!!!!!!#lewis/miles#monaco gp 2023#f1
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Lewis/Miles soulmates ai but it's not an au. That's just real life.
‼️ also Lewis describing him "he's so tall and slender" gurl stop i can see the heart eyes through my screen
I can imagine Miles who is sitting there at the Met Gala between Rihanna and Madonna already wondering if someone messed up his seating place because no way that's where he should be and then there's Lewis fucking Hamilton ogling him from just near the table, probably passing in front of him a few times looking not very casual about it so much Miles has to ask if maybe he got Lewis' seat and he's just trying to get it back, so he gets up to talk to him and introduce himself and Lewis just is so mesmerized that he just doesn't talk back looking all starry eye and the rest is history
#they just look like they have such a supportive dynamic between them#they're cute very tall very small#i want to see miles picking lewis up bridal style for science#lewis/miles#ask time
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