#lh44imagines

silent cries and salty kisses (lh44)

✦ pairing - lewis hamilton x female!reader

✦ genre - major angst, happy ending

The fairy lights above the balcony cast a warm glow on the champagne flutes, but the fizz in them did nothing to ease the churning in your stomach. A tabloid headline screamed "Lewis Hamilton Caught Canoodling with Mystery Blonde!" The accompanying picture showed Lewis with a young woman, their heads close, her hand on his arm.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. One year. One blissful year filled with stolen kisses in his motorhome, whispered secrets under the roar of the engines, late-night talks that stretched into the dawn. Was it all a lie? A sob escaped your lips, hot and raw, shattering the happy chatter around you.

The flat thrummed with a tense silence. You, curled on the plush sofa, clutched the phone, tears blurring the incriminating photos. "Lewis..." your voice was a broken whisper, barely audible. "This... how can you explain this?"

Lewis, pacing like a caged lion, ran a hand through his hair. "Explain what? Look at it, (Y/N)! It's complete bullshit! I barely brushed shoulders with her."

"Barely brushed shoulders?" you scoffed, the sharp edges of the betrayal cutting through your heart. "You're practically making out in that picture! And the caption..." you choked on a sob, "Lewis, a year! How could you?"

"I didn't! (Y/N), for God's sake, wouldn't I tell you? You're the only one for me!" Lewis slammed his fist on the coffee table, frustration boiling over.

"Easy for you to say," you spat, anger flaring amidst the hurt. "The pictures don't lie, Lewis. They never do."

"This time, they are!" He knelt beside the sofa, pleading in his eyes. "Don't you trust me? After everything?"

You looked at him, your gaze wavering. You wanted to believe him, desperately so. But the image of him with another woman, the intimacy in the forced perspective of the photo, gnawed at your trust.

"I... I don't know what to believe anymore, Lewis." Your voice trembled, a fresh wave of tears cascading down your cheeks. "It just... it looks so bad."

Lewis's jaw clenched tight. The anger was no longer directed at the tabloids, but at the wall you were building between yourselves. "Looks bad? (Y/N), all I did was help a girl who was being harassed by some creep!"

"Helped her?" Your voice rose, laced with disbelief. "Helped her how? By cozying up by the bar?"

"Coziness? I was keeping that sleazeball away! She was practically in tears!"

"And you couldn't tell me that?" You threw the crumpled paper at him, a silent accusation.

He caught it mid-air, his eyes blazing with hurt. "Because I didn't think I'd have to justify my every damn move to the woman I love! (Y/N), where's the trust?"

Silence hung heavy in the air, punctuated only by your sniffles. The question hung like a barbed wire fence, separating your fragile foundation. Lewis rose, his frustration simmering.

"Apparently, trust is a one-way street in this relationship." He stormed towards the bedroom, his voice echoing through the room. "Think about it, (Y/N). Because when you do, I expect some damn answers!"

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone with the wreckage of your evening. The sobs returned, a tidal wave of doubt and heartbreak washing over you. You wanted to trust him, you truly did. But the seed of suspicion had been planted, and it wouldn't be easily uprooted. Lewis's words echoed in your mind: "Think about it..."

But what was there to think about? The pictures screamed one truth, his words another. And you were left, stranded in the middle, unsure of where to turn, unsure of who to believe

You were adrift in a sea of your own tears, the crumpled tabloid a soggy mess beside you. Doubts gnawed at you, yet Lewis's pained voice, raw with betrayal, echoed louder. Trust. He’d pleaded for it, and you, blinded by the tabloids’ venom, had failed him.

Then, your phone buzzed. An unknown number. Hesitantly, you answered.

“Hello?”

A shaky voice filled your ear. “Is this (Y/N)? Lewis’s girlfriend?”

Your heart lurched. “Yes, this is she. Who’s this?”

“It’s Sarah,” the voice stammered. “From the bar in Monaco, tonight.” A wave of dread washed over you, but Sarah continued, “I just saw what’s going on in the tabloids, and I had to call. Lewis is a good man. A hero, actually.”

Hero? The word scraped against your raw emotions.

“He saw me being harassed by this… this disgusting guy,” Sarah continued. “Lewis intervened, kept him away. He was so kind, so protective. I was about to cry, I was so scared. Then, the tabloids came in…” Shame clawed at your throat, choking your breath.

“I’m so, so sorry,” you managed to rasp. “I didn’t understand. I… I believed the worst.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Sarah soothed. “Those pictures… they don’t show the whole story. Lewis is a good guy. You’re lucky to have him.”

The line went dead. You stared at the phone, a leaden weight settling in your stomach. Shame and regret coiled around your heart, suffocating you.

You had to see Lewis, had to apologise and beg his forgiveness. Rising on shaky legs, you stumbled towards the bedroom, the silence from within a stark contrast to the storm raging inside you. With a trembling hand, you pushed open the door.

There he was, slumped on the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands. His broad shoulders, usually radiating strength, seemed slumped in defeat. A choked sob escaped your lips.

Lewis’s head snapped up, hurt flickering in his eyes. But before he could speak, you were at his side, collapsing onto the bed beside him. Tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless.

“Lewis, I’m so… so sorry,” you choked out, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your voice hitched with each sob. “I believed the lies, the pictures. I didn’t trust you. I was a fool.”

Tears streamed down your face, blurring the lines on Lewis's face as you clung to him. "I'm so, so sorry, Lewis. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I was an idiot, a fool to trust those awful lies." You squeezed your eyes shut, the weight of your doubt pressing down on you.

A muffled sob vibrated against your ear. Lewis, so strong on the track, was broken, his shoulders trembling with silent tears. It was a sight that ripped your heart open.

"Don't cry," you pleaded, your voice hiccupping. "This is all my fault. Please don't cry."

He didn't answer, burying his face deeper into your hair. Your hand reached up, stroking his back in a desperate attempt to soothe him. You hated being the reason for his pain.

Pulling back slightly, you met his eyes, the pain mirrored in their depths. "Lewis," you whispered, cupping his face. "I love you. More than anything. And the thought of losing you because I couldn't trust you..." Your voice broke again.

Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was a kiss of apology, a plea for forgiveness, and a desperate promise to do better.

Lewis's initial flinch softened into a sigh. He closed his eyes as the kiss deepened, his tears starting to subside. It was slow, filled with a quiet understanding. He was trying to show you it was okay, even though you felt like the world's worst girlfriend.

Pulling back, you whimpered, fresh tears escaping. "I feel so awful, Lewis. I don't deserve you."

He captured your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. "Hey," he murmured, his voice husky but calming. "It's alright, love. We all make mistakes."

He pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair again. This time, though, it was different. It was a hug that held forgiveness, a promise to rebuild.

"I love you," he whispered against your ear, peppering your forehead with soft kisses. "And you know what? Even though you scared the living daylights out of me with that whole 'don't trust you' thing…" he trailed off, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You chuckled wetly, a flicker of hope warming your chest. "I'm so sorry, Lewis."

He squeezed you tighter. "It's okay, baby. Just… next time, maybe give me a chance to explain before jumping to conclusions, alright?"

"Alright," you choked out, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "I promise. No more tabloid drama."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your ear. "Good. Now," he pulled back slightly, a playful glint in his eye. "How about we forget all about this mess with a celebratory dinner? My treat, no arguments."

You managed a watery smile. "You mean it?"

"Of course," he grinned. "Just promise not to read any more tabloids while I'm cooking, okay?"

Relief washed over you, mingled with the warmth of his forgiveness. "Deal," you agreed, wiping another stray tear. "And Lewis?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For everything."

He kissed your forehead, a silent promise hanging in the air.

time skip and lewis pov.

The flickering light from the TV danced across the room, painting fleeting shadows on the wall. We were nestled on the couch, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn forgotten on the coffee table. (Y/N)'s head rested on my shoulder, her eyes glued to the screen, though I knew she wasn't truly following the plot. Her eyelids were heavy, the aftermath of the earlier storm still clinging to her. The movie, a cheesy rom-com I'd chosen solely to lighten the mood, seemed to only be accentuating the red-rimmed puffiness under her eyes.

A pang of guilt twisted in my gut. It was my fault she was like this – fragile, wounded by my misread actions. Yet, as I watched her, a wave of overwhelming gratitude washed over me. Even after everything, here she was, nestled against me, seeking comfort in my embrace. The tabloids' venom had stung, the doubt in her eyes had hurt worse than any crash, but she was still here. Still choosing me.

A small sigh escaped her lips, and I looked down to see her gaze drifting towards me. In those tear-washed eyes, I saw a million unspoken apologies, a love deeper than any headline could ever tarnish.

Before I could speak, a soft, warm hand cupped my cheek. Her thumb brushed away a stray tear I hadn't even realized had escaped. "I'm so sorry again, Lewis," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

I leaned into her touch, the familiar scent of her vanilla hair washing over me. "Don't apologize anymore, love," I murmured, taking her face in my hands. "We talked, we understood. That's what matters."

But she wouldn't be deterred. She pulled me closer, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss of apology, of reassurance, a silent promise to weather any storm together.

chapter 1 - a female rosberg?

warnings - none at all

The 2018 Formula 1 season commenced. The Abu Dhabi sun beat down mercilessly on the Yas Marina Circuit. The air buzzed with anticipation as teams scurried around their cars, a symphony of clanging wrenches and hurried conversations. Lewis Hamilton, ever the picture of focus, adjusted his helmet, the familiar silver and black of Mercedes a second skin.

Across the paddock, laughter erupted from the Red Bull garage. Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, and Carlos Sainz huddled around a phone, their faces contorted in mirth. Max Verstappen, the ever-competitive Dutchman, rolled his eyes but a smile flickered across his lips.

The arrival of Christian Horner, Red Bull's Team Principal, silenced the chatter. "Alright everyone, time for introductions," he boomed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Welcome, for the 2018 season in Redbull Racing, the one and only…"

Lewis braced himself, expecting the usual suspects. Ricciardo, Perez, maybe even Alonso making a comeback.

"Y/N Rosberg!" Horner finished, a flourish in his voice.

A collective gasp rippled through the paddock. Lewis whipped around, his visor reflecting the harsh desert sun. He couldn't believe his ears.

Y/N was a force of nature. A whirlwind of talent and sharp wit, she'd taken the junior racing scene by storm. By winning every category in her rookie season, the sister of the great Nico Rosberg was the it-girl of the racing world. Sarcastic and fiercely loyal, she'd carved a niche in the tightly knit paddock, adored by everyone but Lewis. He, still smarting from his championship battles with her brother, Nico, couldn't help but see a reflection of his old rival in her steely blue eyes.

Y/N, oblivious to the stunned silence, grinned, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Don't worry, everyone, I don't bite… much."

Lewis felt a familiar rage bubble in his chest. Intense feelings of fear and anger overcame him. His rival's sister, Nico's sister. Here. In his territory. As a scramble of reporters snapped pictures of Y/N, everyone shouted questions at her. "Is this a way to get back at Lewis?" "Will we see another silver war?" "Are you going to crash him?" Y/N stood unimpressed by the naive questions. Her gaze flickered onto Lewis, a wave of overwhelming nostalgia overcoming her. But upon remembering her brother and the tears he shed due to his fight with Lewis, she slipped on a mask of indifference. After all she was making history as the first ever female F1 driver and this was war.

She was going to avenge her brother and prove to everyone just how good of a driver she was. If she happened to destroy Lewis's ego along the way, that was just an added bonus :)

chapter two: look what you made me do

warnings - none at all

series so far - pt1

The tension in the drivers' briefing room was thicker than the stale coffee being served. The initial shock of Y/N's arrival had subsided, replaced by an awkward curiosity. The drivers, used to the same faces, were eager to understand the new dynamic.

Sebastian Vettel, ever the diplomat, cleared his throat. "So, Y/N, what brings you to Red Bull? Surely you had some other offers?"

Y/N's smile held a hint of steel. "Let's just say I like a challenge. And besides," she glanced at Max, a playful glint in her eyes, "Max here promised to teach me how to properly drift a Red Bull."

Max snorted, a mock look of horror on his face. "Oh god, help me. You'll have Christian pulling his hair out in a week." Laughter erupted, the tension easing slightly.

"Seriously though," Charles chimed in, "who influenced you to get into F1? Any racing heroes?"

Y/N's smile softened. "Actually, my biggest inspiration has always been my brother."

A hush fell over the room. All eyes darted towards Lewis, who sat rigidly in his chair, his jaw clenched.

"Nico gave me incredible advice, pushed me to my limits, and always believed in me. No major racing company looked at me as a child considering I was a girl. Nico gave me all the confidence I have today and I owe it all to him," Y/N continued, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension.

Lewis scoffed, a barely audible sound, but enough for everyone to hear. "Cheating motherfucker," Lewis muttered soft enough to not be audible but loud enough to know that he said something

Y/N's smile vanished, replaced by a glacial stare. "Something you want to share, Lewis?" she drawled, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. "Perhaps some… helpful pointers on how to lose gracefully?"

The room erupted in gasps. Lewis' face turned a deep shade of crimson. He opened his mouth to retort, but Sebastian intervened before a full-blown argument could erupt.

"Alright, alright, let's keep things civil, shall we?" he chuckled nervously.

The media pounced on the exchange like vultures on carrion. Headlines screamed of a brewing 'Rosberg Revenge', with Y/N's comment dissected and twisted into a declaration of war.

Back in the Red Bull garage, Y/N rolled her eyes at the news articles Max shoved in her face. "Honestly, these people wouldn't know drama if it bit them in the ass"

Max grinned. "Schat just focus on the race, Y/N. Don't let Lewis get to you."

Y/N snorted. "Don't worry, Max. The only thing Lewis will be getting this season is a taste of defeat."

The competitive fire in her eyes burned bright, fueled by a mix of raw talent and a burning desire to not just win, but to prove Lewis wrong. The stage was set for a season unlike any other, a season where sibling rivalry would take center stage, and the battle lines were already drawn.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

chapter 4: lines were crossed

warnings - none at all

series so far - pt1 pt2 pt3

The Bahrain post-race celebrations were in full swing at the swanky F1 club. Y/N, still riding the high of her P2 finish, sipped on a non-alcoholic drink, surrounded by the jubilant Red Bull team. Max, ever the party animal, was already on the dance floor, his gangly limbs flailing to the thumping music.

Across the room, Lewis nursed a beer, a dark cloud hanging over him. Y/N's talent was undeniable, and her audacious overtake had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't help but steal glances at her, her laughter echoing amidst the chatter.

Suddenly, Y/N spotted Nico weaving through the crowd. A smile lit up her face. "Hey, Nico! Come meet Lando," she waved him over.

Lewis watched their interaction, tension coiling in his gut. Nico, ever the protective brother, ruffled Y/N's hair. "So, the wonder rookie," he chuckled, turning to Lando. "Looks like you've got some competition on your hands."

Lando grinned. "Always up for a challenge, Mr. Rosberg. But seriously, P2 in your first race? That's legendary!"

Y/N snorted. "Calm down, Lando. It was just luck."

"Luck, talent, and a whole lot of Rosberg grit," Nico winked. A strong whiff of vanilla overwhelmed the air when Lewis walked past. Then, leaning closer to Y/N, Nico added, "Is the motherfucker wearing vanilla cologne? You remember when you said you loved vanilla on men?"

Y/N's eyes widened in amusement. "Oh my god! He really is. He used to smell like vanilla cupcakes all the time. Too bad he's an asshole now."

A jolt of electricity shot through Lewis. The memory slammed into him with the force of a high-speed collision. 2014, pre-championship battles, a time when he and Nico were still friends. A time when he'd harbored a secret crush on Y/N. He'd doused himself in that damn vanilla cologne, hoping to catch her attention.

The image of Y/N snuggling into his chest, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she inhaled the scent, flooded his mind. He'd been so close, so naively hopeful. But then 2015 came, shattering their friendship and burying his feelings under an avalanche of competitive fury.

The past dissolved as he saw Y/N and Lando laughing, their bodies swaying close as they danced. A bitter pang of jealousy twisted in his gut. He couldn't help but notice the way Lando's arm brushed against Y/N's back, sending a fresh wave of irritation through him.

Just then, Lewis's gaze collided with Nico's. Nico's expression was a chilling mix of anger and concern. He strode across the room, his movements purposeful. Stopping in front of Lewis, he lowered his voice, a dangerous edge to it. "You can hate me," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You can fight me, Lewis, that's old news. But raise a hand on my sister ever again… and I will make your life hell," he trailed off, his eyes blazing.

Lewis's breath hitched. Only then did he truly see the bruise on Y/N's hand, a dark purple blotch against her pale skin. Shame washed over him, hot and unwelcome. His eyes darted between the bruise and Nico's furious face. He knew, with a sickening certainty, that he'd crossed a line.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

chapter 12: did i scare you?

warnings - mentions of crash

series masterlist

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room pierced through Y/N's foggy consciousness. A dull ache throbbed in her head and the scratchy sheets felt like sandpaper against her skin. Disoriented, she blinked, her vision gradually clearing until it landed on a familiar figure slumped in a chair by her bedside.

It was Nico. His head was buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Y/N croaked out his name, her voice a mere rasp.

Nico's head snapped up, his face etched with worry. Relief flooded his features as he scrambled to her side. "Y/N! Du bist endlich wach! Gott sei Dank! Was hast du nur gedacht?!Hitzeerschlag mitten im Rennen? Du bist doch keine Maschine!" [You're finally awake! Thank God! What were you thinking?! Heatstroke in the middle of the race? You're not a machine!]

The torrent of German washed over Y/N, her head swimming with the effort to understand. Nico, realizing his outburst, took a deep breath to compose himself.

"We were so worried," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "I saw my whole life flash before my eyes. I couldn't breathe, it all stopped and...when they pulled you from the wreckage and when he pulled you up… I thought…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Y/N squeezed his hand weakly. "Nico I'm so sorry, I thought I could do it. I promise I wasn't trying to show off or prove anything. I lost control," her voice broke and Nico pulled her into a hug as she whispered, "Who… who pulled me out?" she asked, a tremor in her voice.

Nico hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering. "He did. Lewis did," he finally said.

A heavy silence descended upon the room. Y/N simply stared at him, processing the information.

"Why?" she finally managed, her voice barely a whisper.

Nico reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. On the screen, a video played. It was a clip from the onboard camera in Lewis's car, showing him abandoning his own race and sprinting towards the flames that engulfed hers. The audio picked up his voice, a low growl mixed with urgency.

"Not losing another Rosberg," it crackled. "Not again."

The video ended, and a heavy silence filled the room. Y/N's eyes met Nico's, a thousand unspoken questions swirling within them.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Lewis walked in. He looked exhausted, dark circles etched under his eyes, a bouquet of lilies clutched in his hand. He stopped short at the sight of Y/N awake, relief washing over his features.

He looked hesitant, his gaze flicking between Y/N and Nico. "Y/N," he said softly. "I… I'm glad you're awake."

Y/N stared at him, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The heat of the inferno, the terrifying crash, Lewis's daring rescue, the unspoken words in the video… it all intertwined into a confusing knot.

Nico cleared his throat, his voice regaining its usual gruffness. "We'll leave you two to talk."

With a curt nod towards Lewis, he exited the room, leaving them alone for the first time since the accident.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions and a newfound sense of… something. Y/N didn't know what it was, but she knew this was just the beginning of a conversation that would change everything.

Lewis hesitated for a moment, then placed the flowers on the bedside table. "Y/N," he began, his voice hoarse. "I… I'm happy to see you're okay. I was so scared."

Y/N studied him, her gaze filled with a newfound understanding. "Why did you do it, Lewis?" she asked softly. "Risk your own life to pull me out?"

He looked away, then back at her, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination. "I couldn't just stand there and watch," he confessed. "Not again. Not after…"

He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Y/N reached out, her hand gently touching his arm. "Nico told me what you said," she whispered.

Lewis flinched, shame coloring his cheeks. "I… I didn't mean it like that. It just… it brought back a lot of memories," he took a deep breath before continuing, "I remembered your crash in Monza in F2. They way you spun out of control when Liam crashed into you. I could hear your panicked radio message and the way you were in so much pain after the crash. The blood, the broken toes. And I didn't each get in touch after that. I couldn't let that be the way I ended it this time. I couldn't lose you again." He finished, tears glistening in his eyes.

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their past and the vulnerability of the present hanging between them. Y/N started, "Lewis when I saw your face pull me out, I shut my eyes. Because I knew that I was going to be fine. I knew that I wasn't going to die and nothing was going hurt me, because you were there. You may not agree with me Lew, but you are one of the only people who know me inside and out. At the end of the day, that is all that matters. So thank you for today and I..I owe you one forever" Y/N finished while wincing a bit as she moved.

Finally, Lewis spoke again, his voice barely a whisper.

"Y/N," he said, his eyes pleading. "Can we… can we try to be friends again?"

Y/N's heart ached for the lost years, for the easy camaraderie they once shared. She looked at Lewis, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes. "We can try," she said, a tentative smile gracing her lips. "Maybe it's time we both let go of the past."

Lewis's face broke into a relieved smile, a genuine expression that warmed Y/N from the inside out. Perhaps, amidst the heat of the race and the terror of the crash, a seed of reconciliation had been planted. The road ahead might be long and winding, but for the first time in years, both Lewis and Y/N dared to hope for a future where friendship could bloom once more.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @xoscar03 , @torossosebs , @jajouska , @lindsayjoy444 , @barcelonaloverf1life , @charli123456789, @heyheyheyggg

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chapter 7: we crashed and burned

warnings - none at all

series masterlist

The Silverstone crowd roared as the grid lights went out. Y/N, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, launched off the line with a blistering start. Having lived in the UK for most of her life, it was her home. This was it. Her home race, her first real shot at a win.

However, qualifying hadn't been kind. A gearbox glitch had left her in P4, frustration gnawing at her. Up ahead, Lewis, the ever-dominant force, sat comfortably in P1. The radio crackled in her ear, Liam's voice calm and collected. "Keep your head down, Y/N. We'll get our chance."

Y/N gritted her teeth, focusing on the race ahead. From the very first corner, she displayed her aggressive driving style, surgically carving her way through the pack. A risky overtake on Bottas here, a daring move on Ricciardo there – Y/N was on a mission.

By lap 15, she had clawed her way up to P2, breathing down Lewis's neck. The tension in the air crackled, the crowd sensing a brewing battle. Y/N pushed her car to the limit, matching Lewis turn for turn.

Lewis, frustrated by her relentless pursuit, made a critical error in judgment. He pitted early, a gamble that backfired spectacularly. Y/N, seizing this golden opportunity, stretched her lead. The Red Bull garage erupted in cheers as she crossed the finish line, checkered flag waving, a first-place victory secured.

The champagne shower was bittersweet. Yes, she had won, but the joy was tinged with a sense of unease. A clip of Lewis's furious radio message, broadcasted after his failed pit strategy, had gone viral. "What a stupid fucking move! She's a cheat, just like her brother!"

Y/N's smile faded. Her phone buzzed incessantly. Twitter was a storm of angry comments, fueled by Lewis's outburst. Tears pricked at her eyes. This wasn't how she'd envisioned her first win. The Lewis she'd known, the playful boy she'd shared video game afternoons with, was a distant memory.

The other drivers, sensing her distress, gathered around her, offering congratulations and words of encouragement. Max, ever the blunt one, scoffed. "Don't listen to that loser, Y/N. You earned that win fair and square."

Lando chimed in, his voice gentle. "Lewis will get over it. He just hates seeing someone else on the podium."

Y/N forced a smile, her voice choked with emotion. "Thanks, guys." But the victory felt hollow. The playful rivalry she'd secretly harbored a spark for had morphed into something toxic and consuming. As she walked away, a single tear rolled down her cheek, a silent testament to a shattered dream.

Fury simmered in Nico's eyes as he stormed into Y/N's garage. The radio message, the hateful words Lewis had spewed – they were a declaration of war, not just on Y/N, but on their entire family. He found Y/N huddled with Max and Lando, a brave smile plastered on her face.

"Y/N," Nico's voice was a low growl. "That message…"

Y/N waved him off, her smile faltering. "Don't worry about it, Nico. Lewis is just… Lewis."

Max scoffed. "Just Lewis? That was disgusting! You drove brilliantly, Y/N. You deserved that win."

Y/N offered a weak smile. "Thanks, Max. I appreciate it."

Across the paddock, Lewis watched the interaction unfold. A pang of guilt twisted in his gut as he saw Nico comfort Y/N, wiping away a stray tear that escaped her determined facade. The playful banter, the shared laughter of their childhood – it seemed a lifetime ago. He had let the rivalry consume him, turning a sweet memory into a bitter enemy.

Later that evening, Y/N exited the restroom, her face drawn. Lewis, who had been washing his hands, froze. He knew he owed her an apology, a genuine one. He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N brushed past him, ignoring his presence altogether.

"Y/N, wait," he pleaded. "I need to apologize for what I said. It was…"

Y/N stopped, her back stiff. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. The dam broke when Lewis spoke again.

"It was unprofessional and disrespectful," he continued, his voice low. "You are a phenomenal driver, Y/N, and you deserve every bit of your success."

She spun around, her voice trembling with unshed tears. "Don't you dare," she choked out. "Don't you dare act like you fucking care now. You and Nico… you fell out, you started hating each other so deeply that... you stopped being in each others lives. And I had to watch him lose a best friend, and in the process, I lost you. I cried for days when you stopped talking to him, Lewis. And you know what? You didn't even call or text me one time. Not when everyone on Twitter called me a nepo baby, not when I got into that crash in F2. Not when the entire racing community said that I didn't deserve a place because i was a woman. You were part my whole world. My. Whole. Fucking. Universe. And it was so easy for you to leave and cut me out. So no Lewis. I'm not giving in this time because as much as you claim to be Mister. Nice Guy I know your reality and it is the fact that you didn't care one bit."

Lewis felt the floor drop out from under him. He had no right to be surprised. He had pushed Y/N away, collateral damage in his war with Nico. The pain etched on her face mirrored the forgotten ache in his own heart.

"Y/N…" he stammered, his voice heavy with regret. But the words died in his throat. He had hurt her, pushed her away, and apologizing now felt hollow in the face of his past actions.

Y/N wiped away a tear, her voice laced with a steely resolve. "Save it, Lewis. The damage is done." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Lewis alone with the weight of his remorse.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @xoscar03 , @torossosebs , @jajouska , @lindsayjoy444 , @barcelonaloverf1life

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chapter three: the rookie rosberg

warnings- none at all

series so far - pt1 pt2

The air in the Red Bull garage hung heavy with anticipation. It was qualifying day for the Bahrain Grand Prix, the first race of the season, and Y/N, perched on the edge of a mechanics chair, was a bundle of nervous energy. Her hands tapped a frantic rhythm against her thighs, a stark contrast to the practiced calm of Max beside her.

"Hey," a voice said softly, startling her. It was Nico, his familiar blue eyes radiating a quiet reassurance. "First time jitters?"

Y/N managed a watery smile. "Something like that. Feels like everyone's expecting me to crash and burn."

Nico chuckled. "They underestimate you, kiddo. Just remember, you belong here. You've earned it."

Across the paddock, Lewis watched the interaction, a strange pang of…discomfort settling in his chest. Nico Rosberg, his old nemesis, back in the F1 world, albeit in a different role. It was a reminder of past battles, and a flicker of competitive fire ignited in his eyes. This season was about winning, no matter what.

The qualifying session began. Y/N, heart hammering in her chest, strapped herself into the car. Liam, Nico's former race engineer, his voice now a familiar comfort in her ear, guided her through the pre-race checks.

"Alright, Y/N," Liam's voice crackled through the radio. "Deep breaths. Let's see what you can do out there."

Y/N took a deep breath, pushing past the nerves. This was it. Years of training culminating in this very moment. As she pushed the throttle down the pit lane, a sense of exhilaration washed over her, momentarily erasing her anxieties.

The first laps were tentative, Y/N pushing the car, learning its limits. Liam's voice, calm yet encouraging, guided her through the corners. The timer on the pit wall ticked down, the pressure mounting.

Suddenly, Liam's voice cut through the tension. "Y/N, that was a phenomenal lap! P2 in Q1. Absolutely stunning work!"

A surprised laugh escaped Y/N's lips. P2? On her first ever qualifying session? The relief was palpable.

The paddock buzzed with disbelief. Y/N Rosberg, the rookie, had just placed ahead of established names like Ricciardo and Bottas. The media frenzy was already brewing.

Qualifying progressed, the tension thickening with every eliminated driver. Q3 arrived, the final battle for pole position. The tension in the Red Bull garage was thick enough to cut with a knife. Max launched himself out first, clocking a blistering lap time.

Y/N, her nerves now steeled with focus, took the track. She pushed the car to its absolute limit, feeling the G-forces pin her to the seat. Her tires screamed in protest as she carved through the corners, her vision a blur of speed.

As she crossed the finish line, her heart pounded like a drum solo. Liam's voice, barely containing his excitement, filled the car. "P2, Y/N! P2! That's incredible! You're just behind Lewis!"

Y/N couldn't believe her ears. P2 beside Lewis, the reigning champion? A grin split her face, wide and genuine. This wasn't just about proving herself anymore. This was about the thrill of the race, the pure joy of pushing herself and the car to the limit. As she jumped out of the car, she was pulled into a tight hug by Max. "I'm so proud of you Y/N!!" he exclaimed.

Lewis, watching from the Mercedes garage, saw the jubilation on Y/N's face. A strange mixture of admiration and annoyance flickered across his features. He couldn't deny her talent. The Rosberg name was back, and this time, it was here to stay.

The desert sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the track. The stage was set for a battle royale. Rookie versus champion. Rosberg versus Hamilton.

time skip to the next day - its race day!

The desert sun beat down mercilessly on the Bahrain International Circuit, baking the asphalt and turning the air into a shimmering haze. This wasn't just any race day; it was the culmination of years of relentless training and unwavering dreams for Y/N. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs as she lined up on the grid, P2 staring back at her from the starting light gantry. Lewis, on pole position, stole a glance at her in his rearview mirror. He saw the raw determination in her eyes, a reflection of Nico in his younger days, and a surge of unfamiliar anxiety shot through him.

Lights out! The engines roared to life, and Y/N launched off the line with a blistering start. She clung to Lewis's tail like a hungry wolf, their tires spitting sparks as they battled for supremacy. Liam's voice crackled in her ear, a calm anchor amidst the storm. "Stay focused, Y/N! You've got this!"

Lewis, fixated on keeping Y/N behind, failed to notice Max weaving his way through the pack like a silver demon. By lap ten, Max had snatched the lead, leaving Lewis fuming in his wake. His frustration grew with each lap as Y/N doggedly pursued him, their cars a blur of red and blue against the stark desert landscape.

The battle for P2 was fierce. Y/N, fueled by a desire to prove herself, pushed Lewis to his limits. "Fuck man, why is she right behind me?," Lewis exclaimed over the radio. Bono replied equally as stressed, "She is really pushing the limits Lewis, reminds me a lot of Ni-", Lewis interrupted him abruptly, "Don't finish that." The radio cackled in silence. They dueled for corners, their tires screaming in protest as they brushed against the edge of control. Finally, Y/N saw her chance. With a daring maneuver, she overtook Lewis on the inside of a tight corner, the crowd erupting in a roar. Lewis, his face a mask of fury, slammed on his brakes, narrowly avoiding a collision.

The remaining laps felt like an eternity. Y/N, her body pushed to its physical limit, held onto P2 with gritted teeth. As she crossed the finish line, the checkered flag waving her on, pure elation flooded her. She had done it. P2 in her first ever F1 race!

The podium ceremony was a blur of flashing cameras and champagne showers. Y/N, still buzzing from the adrenaline rush, beamed as she held up the P2 trophy. Across the podium, Lewis watched, his jaw clenched tight. He couldn't deny her talent, but the thought of a Rosberg on the podium rankled him.

When the celebrations subsided, Y/N, eager for a post-race handshake, approached Lewis. He glared at her, his expression cold. As she extended her hand and before she could utter a word, he shoved her hand away with a force that sent a jolt of pain shooting up her arm. Her hand slammed against the metal doorframe of the cooldown room, leaving a throbbing bruise.

Shock clouded Y/N's features. She knew Lewis disliked her, but this blatant hostility was unexpected. Nico, who had been watching the exchange from afar, felt a surge of anger rise within him. He lunged towards Lewis, but was restrained by a team member.

"Leave it, Nico," Y/N whispered, her voice tight with hurt. "Who the fuck does he think he is? He can fight me, fuck he can kick me or anything, but laying a hand on u? Even for the lowlife that he is, that was not okay," Nico shouted angrily. Lando who watched this jumped to Y/N's defense and grabbed an ice pack laying it on her hand gingerly, pulling her into a side hug.

Lewis, oblivious to the drama he'd caused, stormed off towards his garage. He couldn't shake the image of Y/N celebrating her victory, Max by her side. A pang of something akin to jealousy pierced through his competitive spirit. He would have to crush her, he thought, before this rivalry spiraled further out of control.

As Y/N joined Max, who wrapped her in a congratulatory hug, a lone tear rolled down her cheek. The silver war had destroyed her brother's friendship with Lewis. She never realized it would eventually chip away her relationship so greatly. This victory was bittersweet. She had proven herself, but at what cost? The battle lines were drawn, the rivalry ignited. The roar of the desert wind seemed to echo the challenge: could she maintain her momentum, or would Lewis find a way to break her?

credits for gif- @lewishamiltongifs

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ava speaks <3 -

so lewis is kind of a dick in this one! i promise he gets better but note to all the readers - regardless of how much you dislike a person, violence is not condonable by any stretch of the imagination. also

to those who celebrate eid mubarak! all my love <3

chapter 11: slipping through my fingers all the time

warnings - mentions of crash

series masterlist

The oppressive heat hung thick in the air, a relentless sun beating down on the asphalt track. The air shimmered, distorting the vision of the drivers as they prepped for the race. Despite concerns about the extreme temperatures, the governing body had opted to greenlight the event.

Max Verstappen, ever the pragmatist, approached Y/N as she climbed into her Red Bull cockpit. "Hey schat," he said, his voice laced with concern. "You alright? You look a bit pale and sweaty."

Y/N forced a smile, beads of sweat already forming on her forehead. "Yeah, Max, just a bit warm. No worries."

Max frowned, but didn't push it. He knew Y/N's determination wouldn't be easily swayed.

The red lights went out, and the grid roared to life. Y/N fought for position, the heat sapping her strength with every passing lap. By lap 23, her voice crackled through the radio, a tremor of fear tinging her voice.

"Why the fuck is it so hot? Liam, is my drink connected? have you guys fucking filled boiling water in this or what?"

"Y/N, slow down," Liam's voice crackled back, urgency evident. "Well, that is not happening I'm fine," Y/N snapped back but her breath was erratic. Liam persisted saying, "Box this lap, we need to get you out of the car."

But Y/N's response was lost in static. "Ich verliere es! Ich verliere es! (im losing it! im losing it!)" Y/N shouted. Her vision had blurred completely, the heat and exertion pushing her body to its limit. The car swerved, a sickening lurch as she lost control. There was a deafening screech of metal on concrete, followed by a sickening impact. Flames erupted from the car as it slammed into the barriers.

Panic erupted in the pit lane. Nico, watching the race unfold from the Mercedes garage, felt the blood drain from his face. His heart hammered against his ribs as he watched the plume of smoke billow from the crash site.

"Y/N! WAS IST MIT IHR PASSIERT (WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?)" he screamed, his voice raw with terror.

The radio crackled with frantic voices. Drivers demanded updates on Y/N's condition. Daniel asked across his radio, "Was that Y/N? Why are there flames?!" Lewis, his own race forgotten, watched the flames with a growing sense of dread. "No, no no no no no no what just happened Bono?" Lewis muttered

He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaped out of his car, ignoring the shouts from his team. Adrenaline surged through him, fueled by fear and a responsibility he couldn't explain.

"Lewis, stop! It's not safe!" came the frantic voice of his engineer, Bono.

But Lewis didn't listen. "Not losing another Rosberg," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Not again." He sprinted towards the burning wreckage, the inferno a blur before his eyes. Marshals were already on the scene, but Lewis pushed through them, a single-minded determination driving him forward.

Nico watched in disbelief as Lewis, seemingly impervious to the heat and danger, reached the car. He clambered over the wreckage, smoke billowing around him.

Seconds stretched into an eternity as the teams held their breath. Finally, Lewis emerged from the flames, cradling an unconscious Y/N in his arms.

"Medical team, we need medical here!" his voice boomed through the radio.

The silence that followed was deafening, then finally, a wave of relief washed over the paddock. Medics rushed towards Lewis, carefully taking Y/N from his grasp.

Lewis collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving with exertion. Despite the scorching heat and the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his body was shaking uncontrollably.

Nico, tears blurring his vision, stormed out of the garage. He rushed towards Lewis, his anger momentarily eclipsed by overwhelming relief.

"Y/N?" he rasped. "Is she…"

Lewis looked up, his face streaked with soot and sweat. "She's alive, Nico. That's all that matters right now."

Nico slumped beside him, the weight of the near-tragedy pressing down on him. He looked at Lewis, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Both of them slid down against the garage walls, their hearts beating fast and minds racing.

They may not have been friends, but in that shared moment of terror, a fragile bridge of empathy was built. The heat of the inferno may have been unbearable, but it paled in comparison to the fear that had gripped the hearts of everyone in the paddock.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @xoscar03 , @torossosebs , @jajouska , @lindsayjoy444 , @barcelonaloverf1life, @charli123456789

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