"Car's Outside" - Part 2

"Car's Outside" - part 2

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Driver!Reader

Summary: Caught in a whirlwind of unexpected moments and emotions, you find yourself drawn closer to Lewis as he attempts to make amends and sparks a flicker of hope within you, leaving you conflicted yet unable to resist the forces between you.

Word Count: 2468

Trigger Warning/Content Advisory: Contains mature content and explores complex themes. Please be aware that it may also include scenes of high-speed racing, accidents, intense emotions, emotional conflicts, personal growth, and intimate moments. Reader discretion is advised.

You find yourself in the airport, still in shock from this morning. 

It's 6 am, and Anthony's loud voice abruptly wakes everyone up. By 7:30 am, you're all having breakfast, and at 8:45 am, everyone is getting their belongings ready. Finally, at 9am, you leave the house, and now it's 11am at the airport. Your flight is scheduled to depart at 2 pm.

Feeling utterly exhausted from the chaotic morning, you slump down in an airport chair, eagerly awaiting your private plane. The kids spot you in your weakened state and immediately pounce on you.

"Oof," you manage to utter as all the air seems to leave your body. 

"Hey, you guys," you whisper, mustering a smile. 

"Hi, (Y/N)," they greet you cheerfully. 

To your disbelief, Lewis suddenly takes a seat beside you.

"What did I tell you?" Lewis warns the kids, his voice carrying a hint of authority.

"Not to ask unnecessary questions," they giggle, clearly amused.

"It's fine," you assure them, attempting to lighten the mood. 

"I answer those kinds of questions all the time in the media," you say, trying to make a joke. Unfortunately, it flies right over their heads.

"So... Do you have a boyfriend?" They continue with their innocent curiosity.

"If I did, I wouldn't be here," you tease, playing along.

"But you're pretty," they innocently comment, not fully grasping the context.

"Well, maybe I'm just too busy being pretty," you joke, trying to divert the conversation.

"Sir uncle also doesn't have a girlfriend," they inform you, unknowingly leading the conversation in an unexpected direction.

"Well, yeah, he's busy being….. pretty…. too, I guess," you blurt out without thinking, immediately regretting your words. 

What did I say about avoiding awkward or weird moments? Ugh.

The children giggle at your response, not thinking much of it. However, you can also hear Lewis laughing, which brings a smile to your face, even though you cringe at the situation.

After settling into the plane, you were initially searching for a single seat, hoping for some privacy. However, the children insisted on sitting with you, along with their Sir uncle. The plane took off, and the atmosphere was calm and peaceful.

Slowly, exhaustion took over, and you drifted off into a deep slumber. 

Time went by, and you were suddenly awakened by muffled giggles. Blinking your eyes open, you found yourself in a rather surprising situation. Your head was comfortably resting on Lewis's shoulder, while his head rested gently on top of yours. Unintentionally, you had even found yourself holding onto his arm, drawing closer in an unexpected snuggle. Thankfully, a blanket concealed your actions, sparing you from any potential embarrassment or awkwardness in front of the children.

Panic quickly washed over you as you tried to figure out how to free yourself from this situation. Your leg began to jiggle nervously, but to your surprise, Lewis's hand reached out and gently stopped your motion. 

Was he awake? Why didn't he move away?

Absorbed in your thoughts, your mind racing and overanalyzing the situation, Lewis finally lifted his head, creating a brief break in your shocking closeness. You shifted to readjust your position, and a subtle shiver ran down your spine, sending tingles throughout your body. Yet, just as you began to distance yourself, a gentle, reassuring touch caught you by surprise. His hand reached out, placed on top of yours, and a rush of dizziness consumed you. 

Heart-pounding within your chest, echoing in your ears, as a surge of emotions swept over you.

Yet, you couldn't ignore the giggling kids before you. Their amusement is when your head rests on Lewis's shoulder earlier and the undeniable blush spreads across your cheeks. 

Why is he holding my hand? you wondered, feeling a mix of surprise and confusion. Gently, you stole a glance at him, hoping for a clue, but his eyes remained closed.

The kids were called over by their mother, the ruckus settled, and they bid you a small goodbye. 

The cabin crew announced the dimming of lights, further adding to the intensity of the moment. 

Just great, you thought sarcastically.

You shifted your attention back to Lewis, who appeared to be peacefully "asleep." 

Tentatively, you whispered his name, hoping for a response. "Lewis," you called, this time a little louder. 

In response, his grip tightened atop your hand, sending a shiver down your spine once again. You fell silent, your mind overflowing with countless questions.

Suddenly, he began to rub his thumb gently over your hand, creating a comforting and intimate feeling. Being in the position you are in, it is impossible to drift back into sleep. Hours seemed to pass, and slowly, his hold on your hand loosened, he was finally asleep.

✧*̥˚ Timeskip *̥˚✧

When you stepped off the plane, you were greeted by the breathtaking beauty of Bali. The air was warm and carried a gentle breeze, tinged with the scent of tropical flowers and the ocean. Lush green landscapes stretched as far as the eye could see, adorned with swaying palm trees and vibrant tropical vegetation. The crystal-clear turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean beckoned, promising a refreshing escape from the heat.

Your cars have arrived, feeling a bit dazed by the sudden turn of events. Everyone began getting into the cars, and you found yourself lost in your thoughts, unaware of the commotion around you. Lewis noticed your distraction and reached out, grabbing your arm to urge you to get in the car. To your instincts, you didn't move, caught in a brief moment of haze as you locked eyes with him.

"Oh, umm... I'll take the other car," you explained, trying to rationalize the situation.

Lewis's voice took on a hint of sternness as he insisted, "It's already full. Just take this one with me."

You tried to reason further, "But it's just the two of us."

He continued to give you that intense stare, his determination unwavering. Realizing there was no use arguing, you finally climbed into the car.

A few minutes passed, and you heard a loud sigh coming from Lewis, sitting beside you. Curiosity sparked within you as you searched for an explanation for his audibly frustrated sound.

"I understand that you might have liked to take a break instead of being here with us, but... I want you to make the most of it. I've arranged some activities for you that could help... alright?" he proposed.

You responded with a nonchalant "Sure," not expecting much from his offer.

"I want to make it up to you," he added, his eyes filled with sincerity and a hint of sadness.

"Oh..." It suddenly occurred to you that this was only an apology for the accident that happened between you two, an attempt to lessen his guilt…

He was the one who caused the crash that day. He made contact from behind and caused you to crash into the barriers. You weren't angry at him for the accident itself, but for what he didn't do. There was no word of concern or apology from him. You heard a replay of his radio message, blaming you for not watching where you were going and blocking his path. While you didn't want to take it personally, you always had feelings for him. It was difficult to simply brush it off. 

Before that day, you had admired him from a distance, drawn to his unwavering passion for racing, which motivated you to become a better racer yourself. You had looked up to him. However, since then, your perspective has shifted. He appeared to be a different person, and you couldn't help but wonder if his previous display of passion had all been a show.

You reached the charming houses designated for each family member, including your small hut. The atmosphere around you was heavy with a somber mood, and Anthony noticed your downcast demeanor as you stepped out of the car. He shot a displeased look at Lewis, who responded with an innocent "I didn't do anything" expression.

Feeling overwhelmed, you entered your hut and collapsed onto the bed. The weight of emotions brought tears to your eyes. 

"Ughhh," you exclaimed aloud, frustrated with the situation. Seeking relief, you headed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on your face. While gazing at your reflection, you whispered, "Get over it," reminding yourself to move past these feelings and recover composure.

Craving some fresh air, you stepped outside and took a leisurely walk around the area. It was still afternoon, and as you strolled along the concrete pathway, you found yourself surrounded by lush greenery, with a vibrant jungle surrounding the view. 

A sudden beep caught your attention. Turning around, you spotted a golf cart approaching, driven by a friendly staff member. "Welcome to Bali, Ms. [Y/L/N]," he greeted you with a cheerful smile, bringing the cart to a complete stop. "Would you like me to drive you to the beach?" he offered kindly.

"Absolutely! That would be wonderful," you replied, excitement filling your voice. You eagerly hopped on the golf cart, ready to be taken to the beach and absorb the beauty of Bali.

You expressed your gratitude to the driver and stepped off the cart, making your way toward the sandy beach. When you reached the shore, you could feel the refreshing touch of the cool water on your feet and the invigorating scent of the salty air. With each exhale, you released all the troubles and worries that had been weighing on your mind. 

However, despite your attempts to let go, the thoughts lingered.

He feels bad for you. You are a burden around him. He is being nice out of pity. You did something wrong by making him feel this way. Why would they like you? No matter what you do, You can't change how he sees you.

"Just forget about it," you whispered to yourself, trying to convince yourself to move on.

"Who am I kidding? He's Lewis Hamilton. Why would he care about a rookie's feelings?" You berated yourself, believing that it was your fault, to begin with.

Unexpectedly, a tear escaped your eye, catching you by surprise. Hastily, you wiped it away, hoping no one had witnessed your vulnerability. You cleared your throat, casting a glance around to ensure that no one was present to witness it. Finding solitude, you are determined to put on a brave face and push forward, determined to enjoy the beautiful surroundings of the beach.

Night had descended, and you found yourself completely absorbed by the beauty of the starry sky. Lying in the sand, you couldn't tear your gaze away from the twinkling stars above. Lost in the tranquility of the moment, you had lost track of time.

Eventually, you requested a ride back to your hut from one of the staff members, and they kindly obliged. As you entered your room, however, you were taken aback to find Lewis sitting on your bed, arranging what appeared to be dinner for two.

"Um, this is my room," you informed him, unsure of what to make of the situation.

"I know," Lewis replied calmly, not seeming bothered by the misunderstanding. "You weren't answering the door, so I assumed you were asleep. They already ate, and I thought maybe you wanted some company." He gestured for you to take a seat on the nearby chair while he occupied the opposite side of the bed.

You stared at him, unsure of how to react to his unexpected presence in your room.

You took a seat, your face contorted with confusion, while Lewis began eating as if this was a completely normal situation, disregarding the fact that he had hurt your feelings just hours earlier. It baffled you. 

Why would he act this way?

The tension in the room became unbearable, and finally, you couldn't hold back any longer.

"Lewis," you said, your frustration evident in your voice. "What are you doing?"

"I told you I want to make it up to you," he responded casually as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"After months of not caring about anything I do, you suddenly want to talk?!" your voice rose, the pent-up emotions pouring out.

"I didn't want to ignore you," Lewis replied, emphasizing the word 'want' as if he was trying to get to something.

"Well, you weren't good at showing it," you retorted.

"I know, okay? I know what I did. I just thought it was better if I did," Lewis explained, his words sounding perplexing.

"What? How does that make any sense?" you questioned, feeling your anger escalate as he seemed to make the situation even more confusing.

"I care about you, I do. That's why I ignored you," he attempted to clarify as if it somehow made sense.

At that moment, you couldn't take it anymore. Deciding to leave, you reached for the door and began to open it. However, before you could fully open it, Lewis abruptly slammed it shut, startling you. You turned to face him, finding his face just inches away from yours. Fear coursed through you as you wondered what might happen next. 

He placed both hands next to your head, creating a cage that prevented any further attempts to escape. His captivating brown eyes stared into yours, and it was the closest you had ever been to him.

"Please, just trust me with this. I... I don't know how to fix this...," he pleaded, his voice filled with sincerity. "I never wanted it to come to this."

His face drew even closer, his cheek gently brushing against yours before resting on your shoulder. His hands slowly slid down from the door and came to rest near your waist, still holding onto the door.

"Can I hold you for a bit, please?" he asked, his voice laced with vulnerability. You nodded in response.

His hands moved from the door to your waist, their warm touch like a gentle caress, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. The heat emanating from his body enveloped you. The strength and tenderness in his hold created a sense of safety, where the world outside ceased to exist. His touch enveloped you, and a symphony of sensations unfolded. The faint scent of his cologne danced in the air. The sound of his steady heartbeat echoed in your ears, a rhythmic melody that matched your own racing heart. 

At that moment, his touch soothed your tired spirit, urging your tense body to let go and embrace the surge of feelings inside you – a powerful blend of desire, doubt, and the undeniable force of love.

What are you doing to me, Lewis? you couldn't help but think, your mind filled with a blend of confusion, vulnerability, and a flicker of hope.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:• ☆ . ° .• °:.*.·:·✧ ✦✧.·:·..• ☆ . ° .• °:.*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

🌟 Taglist:🌟

@notleclerc @copper-boom @omgsuperstarg @zendayabelova @livster @incroyaux @bbymelsworld @icysdiary @simp-hub @woofgocows

he's a genius ('cause he loves a woman like her) (social media au) - lh44

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and Lewis (attempt to) soft launch your relationship.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x wolff!reader (model used: kiana davis)

Warnings: fluff, some light cursing

Request: "Hi!! I was wondering if you could do a smau with Lewis where he’s dating toto’s daughter and they are soft launching 🥰 she is really kind and smart, takes part in a lot of charity events buuuut she’s also studying to become an engineer (could you make her like 23-25?)"

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

yn.wolff

Liked by susiewolff, mercedesamgf1, and 2,546 others

yn.wolff: who wants to hear a joke?

view all 23 comments

mercedesamgf1: we do, we do!🖐️

yn.wolff: what's a three letter word that starts wit gas?🙂

mercedesamgf1: gas is three letters, baby boss🫣

yn.wolff: car!!

mercedesamgf1: boss says we have to get back to work now.

yn.wolff: is this why i have no friends?😭

georgerussel63: blimey

lewishamilton just posted a story!

yn.wolff just posted a story!

yn.wolff

Liked by lewishamilton, f1wags, and 5,473 others

yn.wolff: welcome to life recently!

totowouffs: lewis?? how'd you get in there man???

georgeporge63: isn't she like... 25🫤

totowouffs: and??

georgeporge63: she is literally a child

yn.wolff: wdym i'm a child i'm paying off student loans 🥲

comments on this post have been limited.

lewishamilton

Liked by yn.wolff, f1, charles_leclerc and 488,347 others

lewishamilton: Miami heat 🥵 #IWCMiami

view all 2,385 comments

yn.wolff: pink!

lewishamilton: 😊🩷

yn.wolff just posted a story!

lewishamilton just posted a story!

yn.wolff

Liked by susiewolff, lewishamilton, landonorris and 28,544 others

yn.wolff: He's a genius tagged users: lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco

hamilhoes: okay but what does toto think?? @yn.wolff

mercedesamgf1: big boss says baby boss can date whoever she wants👊

mercedesamgf1: and to come home for christmas

yn.wolff: booking the tickets🫨

susiewolff: looking good, yn!🩷

view all 7,376 comments

lewishamilton: Never facetiming you again😆

yn.wolff: i need photos to look at when you're away🙂🙂

lewishamilton

Liked by mercedesamgf1, serenawilliams, yn.wolff and 1,235,654 others

lewishamilton: 'Cause I love a woman like you

totosschoes: THIS WAS NOT ON MY BINGO CARD BUT BOY DOES IT EXCITE ME

shmickgrussel: mercedes garage is about to become one happy family, huh?😭

777merc444: i don't know who to be more jealous of🫣

view all 34,762 comments

georgerussel63: crikey!

yn.wolff: i'm begging you to just curse

lewishamilton: 😆😆

Viper // Part 5 // MAX VERSTAPPEN – N.01 (N.033)

Author’s Note: Here’s the next part for Viper! This one literally just wrote itself. I had planned out the plot points I wanted for the rest of the 2019 season and didn’t even make it through half of them before I checked my word count and saw that I was at 13k words for this part already. And don’t worry, I have plans for this all the way to the end of the current 2022 season so we’re nowhere near being done!

Also if you follow me you would’ve seen the ask about the use of the word heerlijk and how I’ve sorta been misusing it but not entirely according to other asks I’ve gotten on the subject lol. I’m just gonna keep rolling with it for now because it’s too funny to change. I’ll answer the other asks about it once it gets revealed what my meaning for the word is, (very likely in the next part, you’ll see why lol) but I can confirm I wasn’t going for Delicious. I guess one of my warnings should be the use of google translate.

With that being said, I hope you guys enjoy this update! Let me know in the replies and likes, it makes me smile every single time I get a little notification. Also it’s absolutely insane that I have over 600 followers because of this little story of mine. You guys are too fudging sweet ☺️

Find the previous 4 parts on my masterlist, here.

Summary: Y/N fills the vacant Red Bull seat at the beginning of the 2019 season, craziness ensues.

Characters: Max Verstappen / Driver Reader, Daniel Ricciardo x Driver Reader (besties).

Word Count: 13.8k

Warnings: Fluff, Comfort, Drama, Angst. All the good stuff. Mentions of sex, language, etc. Google Translate for Dutch words.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

There was no way you’d gotten more than an hour of sleep, woken suddenly by the sound of someone pounding at your hotel room door. You startled in bed, moving too quick and making the world spin around you for a couple of seconds as your head started to pound. You cursed whoever was on the other side of that door, regretfully throwing your warm, comfortable covers off of your body. You forced yourself out of bed as the knocking continued, slowly shuffling towards the door.

You swung it open with an unimpressed “What?!”

Daniel’s fist was still raised, ready to keep banging away at your open door. “Viperrrrrr!”

You rubbed at your temples, wincing at the loud sound of his voice. “Jesus Christ, Ricciardo. You better have a good reason for waking me up considering I pretty much just fell asleep.”

He walked past you into your hotel room, his wobbly steps giving away how drunk he was. The door clicked shut behind you as you followed him. “You disappeared from the club and didn’t answer my texts. Wanted to make sure you were alive like any decent best friend should do.” He explained, plopping himself down on the other side of your bed, crossing his arms back behind his head. You arched a brow when he kicked off his shoes, letting them drop to the ground at the foot of the bed.

Huh, now that you thought about it, you had in fact ditched him. You were hit with a mental image of Daniel dancing around like an idiot, only to realize that you’d been gone for a while and probably weren’t coming back. You hadn’t even thought about texting him to let him know that you were okay, because you’d been with Max up until about an hour ago. “We should’ve let you know we were heading out.” You mumbled, without thinking.

“We?” It’s safe to say you had Daniel’s full attention now. “Did you pick a guy up at the club?! Is he hiding in the closet?!”

“No, you idiot.” You rolled your eyes at your best friend, sitting cross legged on your side of the bed and leaning back against the headboard. “Club got stuffy, so I walked home with Max.” You kept it simple, leaving out the drama that led to you wanting to leave the club. You were sure Daniel would find out the truth once he sobered up in the morning.

“…is Max hiding in your closet?” He asked, gaze slowly widening.

“No Daniel.” You deadpanned, fighting the urge to roll your eyes again. “Max went back to his own room.”

“Did you guys…” He made a very vague rude gesture with his hands “…you know? Finally get rid of that tension that’s been thick in the air since like, the day you met.”

“No!” You smacked Daniels hands back down so that he’d stop waving them about. “It’s Max we’re talking about here. It’s not like that, we’re just friends. And besides, you know that I would never get involved with any of the other drivers. Made that mistake when I first got into a single seater, and it’s never happening again. It took forever to get people to take me seriously again.”

“Max wouldn’t be like that.” Daniel defended his younger friend. “He wouldn’t run around the paddock bragging about bagging the only female driver on the grid.”

“Doesn’t matter, because things aren’t like that. There’s no weird tension…” You said sternly, wanting this topic of conversation to be over.

“Right.” Daniel said, making it clear that he didn’t believe what you were saying.

“Shut up, Dan. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You huffed, sinking down into the bed and pulling the covers back up over your body. You reached over to flick the lamp back off, glad for the blackout curtains in the room that did a fantastic job of blocking out the daylight that shone bright outside the windows. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going back to sleep. Don’t choke on your own vomit in the meantime, please.”

“I’m not that drunk.” Daniel scoffed, ditching his shirt and pants before getting in on the other side of the bed.

“Mhm.” You hummed. “Don’t try to spoon me again in your sleep or I will kick you in the balls. You wouldn’t be my first victim of the day.”

“It was one time!” He defended himself, completely missing your mumbled last sentence.

“One time too many, Ricciardo.”

“Whatever.” He huffed, turning onto his stomach, and promptly falling into a deep sleep approximately 14 seconds later.

It didn’t take you that much longer to fall asleep yourself now that you’d settled into the surprisingly comfortable hotel room bed again. You didn’t mind Daniel’s presence, having been in this situation many times after drunken nights out. Hopefully this time, you would get more than an hour of sleep before someone bothered you.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Your second wakeup call of the day was even worse than the first one.

You’d been having a lovely dream, of yourself accepting the trophy for World Driver’s Champion at the prize giving ceremony, the trophy handed to you by Michael Schumacher, him letting you know that he didn’t doubt you would be the one to break all his racing records. Your friends and family had all been there to share the moment with you, cheering you on like they had done your entire life.

And then you were smacked in the face by a pillow, snapping you out of your dream and sleep. “What the fuck, Daniel!?” You groaned, blindly throwing the pillow back in his direction and rubbing at your sore nose.

“Fucking answer your phone.” He groaned, his voice coming out muffled because his head was already buried under his pillow.

You hadn’t picked up on the standard iPhone ringtone playing loudly in your room until he’d pointed it out. With a sigh, you reached over to your side table and picked up the device. Your eyes widened when you saw that it was mid-afternoon, but you still swiped on the screen to answer the call. “This had better be life or death.”

“Please tell me you’re on route for the airport? The plane is taking off any minute now and I can only ask them to delay it so many times.” It was your coach, who’d apparently been assigned with the task of tracking you down. “I knocked at your door and there was no answer. I assumed you’d already left.” You glanced at the clock once again, accepting the fact that you were definitely not making it to the airport in time for the chartered flight back to the UK with the rest of the team. “And please tell me Verstappen is with you, on route to the airport. No one’s gotten a hold of him either.”

“No to both of those.” You whispered, conscious not to wake up Daniel again.

Your performance coach let out a lovely couple of expletives.

“It’s fine, we’ll just catch a ride with the Renault team. Daniel’s with me and I’m assuming Max is still passed out in his room too.”

“Renault took off about an hour ago. We’re the last to take off.” Oh. Well… shit. You found it funny that no one on Daniel’s side of things had tried to track him down, but you also knew that it wasn’t uncommon for him to skip the team flight and get his own. He’d missed plenty of Monday morning flights over the years.

“Ok then. How would I go about arranging for our own plane later tonight?” You knew that sentence sounded ridiculous as the words were coming out of your mouth, reminding you how different your life was now that you drove in the big leagues. Up until now, any of the times you’d taken private planes had always been with other people or set up by the team. You’d never arranged it for yourself.

“Flash a lot of money at the right people and anything is doable.” Your coach quipped, thinking you were joking.

“Ok, do it and send me the details.”

With that being decided, you hung up the phone.

At least you had enough forethought to send Max a text explaining the new flight situation for when he would inevitably wake up in a panic, letting him know that everything would be sorted out, before plopping back down onto your pillow and dragging the covers back up over your head.

There was no harm in sleeping a little bit longer now, for good measure.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You felt significantly better the third time you’d woken up, stretching your arms up above your head. Well, you still had a pounding headache, but you weren’t irritated at the whole world for disturbing your slumber anymore. You found that Daniel was already awake too, scrolling through social media on his phone to occupy his time. You grabbed your phone from the side table again, catching up on the messages you’d missed throughout the day.

“Danny…” You mumbled, when you saw an email asking for the passport details of the passengers of your private flight so you could pre-clear customs. “Please tell me you have your passport, and your team didn’t fully leave you stranded in Brazil.”

Daniel laughed, though it sounded a little rough after the night he’d had. “I called Mike on the way over here last night cause I knew there was no way in hell I was making the team flight. He was supposed to have a bag sent over to your hotel this morning.”

“Ok. Good.” You let out a relieved breath, glad you wouldn’t have to deal with that entire situation. You’d lost your passport once before going home from a karting competition and it had been a mess. Embassies and law officials had been involved, your father had been pissed, and you’d been stuck in Turkey for a lot longer than you should’ve been. You’d never made that mistake for yourself again. You were kind of surprised that Daniel had even thought about it, considering the state that he was in when he showed up at your door yesterday.

Daniel rattled off his passport number from memory and the rest of the information you needed to fill out his passenger form. Now you just needed Max’s information and you’d be set to head home whenever you wanted. “You wanna order up some room service and make sure that bag is actually here while I hop in the shower? I’ll text Max, so order something for him too.”

Daniel reached over to grab the room service menu that you’d offered him after getting out of bed. He had a quick look over the menu, knowing you and Max well enough to be able to order something for the both of you that you’d enjoy without asking. You left him to that, grabbing the comfiest thing you owned from your suitcase and making your way into the ensuite for the most refreshing shower of your life.

You didn’t waste any time, quickly washing your hair and body, feeling a million times better as you stepped out of the shower and wrapped a warm fluffy towel around your body, doing the same with your hair and leaving the towel at the top of your head. You went to start getting dressed, only to realize that you’d forgotten to grab some underwear from your suitcase in your haste to get in the shower… Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Daniel saw you in a towel, considering you lived together.

You made sure your towel was secure around your chest and covering all the important bits, before unlocking the bathroom door and making your way through the room to your suitcase. You carefully bent down to grab what you needed, before turning around to head back to the washroom to finish changing.

Except, you saw as you turned that Daniel was no longer the only person in the hotel room with you. Max was also sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing you like a deer caught in headlights.

Oh. My. God.

“The fuck are you doing here!?” You all but screeched, clutching the towel even more tightly.

“You told me to come for food!”

“I don’t see any food!”

“Yeah, well you didn’t specify when the food would be arriving! How was I supposed to know you’d be walking around like… that!”

“I wouldn’t be walking around in a fucking towel if I’d known you were here!” You shouted back at him in the same panicked tone, barely taking a second to breathe.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “But you’d walk around like that if it’s just Daniel?!”

Daniel burst out laughing at this interaction, no longer able to hold it in, almost falling off his side of the bed because he was laughing so fucking hard. “We live together dumbass.” Daniel wheezed, responding to Max’s last statement. “I’ve seen a lot more than I ever wanted to. Hell, a couple weeks ago I walked in on-”

“DANIEL!” You fully screeched this time, face flaring up even more than before. Now was surely not the time to be discussing your sex life and one of your more… mortifying encounters with your best friend coming home at the wrong time. The fact that Daniel was still having a hard time controlling his laughter wasn’t helping.

By the grace of God, you were offered an out of this situation by way of a knock at the door. The room service had arrived.

“You,” you pointed to Daniel, setting your narrowed gaze upon him “get the fucking food so I can finish getting changed. And you,” you moved your finger to point at Max who was still looking just as flustered as you “won’t ever speak about this to anyone, or I’ll make your life a living hell. Got it?”

Both boys nodded simultaneously.

You huffed out another breath and gathered what very little was left of your dignity, before dashing back into the bathroom. The door had barely shut behind you, before you heard Daniel wheezing out as he started laughing all over again.

You ignored the laughter, finally getting dressed. You took your time changing into the forest green matching sweater and sweatpants that Daniel had gifted you a while back (prototypes for a merch line he was going to release in the near future), giving your face a chance to fade back down to its normal colour. In fact, you took the time to properly brush out your hair, deciding that you’d let it air dry until it was time to leave.

Daniel was smart enough to offer you a plate of yummy looking pasta before opening his mouth again. You silently accepted it, sitting cross legged on the bed with the food on your lap. You twirled some pasta around your fork, lifting it towards your mouth.

“Careful, it’s hot.” Max said, half a second before you put the steaming pasta in your mouth.

You stupidly ignored him, putting the bite in your mouth anyways. Not smart on your part, as you spend the next thirty seconds weirdly huffing as you tried to cool the food in your mouth like you hadn’t just burned off all your tastebuds. You refused to look in Max’s direction, knowing there would be a smug look on his face. Instead, you twirled a second bite of pasta around your fork and raised your middle finger in his direction as you blew on the pasta before putting it in your mouth.

They waited until you’d eaten about half your plate before starting to talk again, giving you the curtesy of not bringing up the towel incident again. You chatted mostly about the night before, filling in the blanks for one another about the things you couldn’t quite remember fully. Then Daniel had gone for a shower of his own while you’d filled out Max’s passenger form, seeing as he was now able to provide you the information that you needed.

It wasn’t much longer until you were on route to the private airport, Daniel chatting animatedly to the taxi driver from the front while you had Max sat silently in the back watching the setting sun over the streets of Brazil for the last time until you’d come back next year. You nearly had a stroke when you had to pay the bill for the plane upon arriving at the airport… but that was on you for missing the other flight you were supposed to be on. In the grand scheme of things, it wouldn’t hurt you that much.

Daniel claimed his own pair of plush leather seats towards the back of the plane, putting on his headphones and drawing up the hood of his sweater as he settled into his seat to sleep. You and Max sat towards the front of the plane, sitting in opposite rows, both by your own windows. Max scrolled through his phone through takeoff, while you pulled your MacBook out of your backpack and cued up a show to keep your brain occupied for the next few hours. It worked, helping you easily zone out as you watched people who were even more of a mess than you.

You were halfway through the first episode of the newest season of Bachelor in Paradise when Max plopped down in the seat next to yours. Clearly, scrolling through his phone wasn’t entertaining enough anymore.

“What are you watching?” He asked curiously, leaning over towards you slightly to get a better view of your screen.

You eyed him for a minute, trying to figure out if he was being serious or cueing up a joke at the expense of your taste in tv shows. “Only the best trash reality television available.”

He pulled a face. “You watch that kind of stuff?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” You bumped your shoulder against his.

“Danny claims to hate it when I watch it at the apartment, but he’ll sit through the episodes without complaint when they’re on. But… Don’t tell him I told you that.”

Max eyed you suspiciously, as though try to determine if you were winding him up or not.

So, you held out one of your AirPod earbuds as a silent invitation for him to join you in watching the show. His gaze was still a little suspicious as he took it from you and put it on, leaning onto the armrest between the two of you. You turned your laptop so that it would be at a better angle, before restarting the episode.

You quietly explained the premise of the show, trying not to laugh every time Max would point out how ridiculous it seemed. It took him a little while to understand that that was the whole point, but once he did, he started to get into it. His questions shifted from wanting to know the technicalities to wanting to know more background on the contestants, which you happily provided having watched every season of the Bachelor franchise. He picked a favourite contestant, visibly more interested every time they would be on the screen.

You couldn’t help but laugh when Max made a comment about a girl you both couldn’t stand. He was also the one who pressed play on the second episode, even though you’d given him the option to watch something else.

By the third, you could barely keep your eyes open. You told Max that he could keep watching if he wanted (which it turned out he did), and that you were going to ‘rest your eyes’ for a few minutes. And once you’d fallen asleep, your body wound up shifting to find a more comfortable position. You never even noticed that you’d leaned into Max, and that your head had fallen onto his shoulder. To his credit, he didn’t move, even when you mindlessly curled further into his side. The show kept playing as he fell asleep too, head falling so that it was lightly resting against the top yours.

Daniel couldn’t help but snap a picture when he’d wandered to the front of the plane to find a water bottle in the mini fridge, even though he was slightly annoyed that you’d started watching the new season of Bachelor in Paradise without him.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You’d only gotten to spend just over 24 hours at home in Monaco, because you and Max had been needed at the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes on Thursday morning. So on the Wednesday night, you’d hitched a flight to the UK with Max on his plane, the two of you sitting at opposite ends of the plane and doing your own thing for the duration of the flight. The distance this time around definitely wasn’t because you’d been mildly horrified to find out that you’d used your teammate as a human pillow for most your last trans-Atlantic flight. It had just happened.

24 hours apparently hadn’t been enough time for you to be able to look at Max without feeling like you’d overstepped, your drunken conversation with Daniel on Sunday night still playing on your mind. It was like after waking up on his shoulder, you could see exactly what weird tension Daniel had been talking about. You instantly had started to overthink everything, while also trying to convince yourself that Daniel had no idea what he was talking about.

Thinking about it gave you a headache…

So, you figured avoiding Max was that easiest thing to do. A difficult task when considering that you were both confined in a tiny metal tube however many feet in the air, but you still pulled it off.

And thankfully when you wandered into a conference room on Thursday morning with most of the team executives and strategists, you easily slipped back into your work mindset as everyone put whatever energy they had left at the end of this long season towards stealing the Constructors championship from Mercedes. There was a brief mention of the fact that James would no longer be working for Max going forward, and that your brother was coming in on Sunday night to meet the team on Monday morning and dive right in for the last race. No one asked why, because the focus was on winning.

They wanted you and Max to spend as much time in the simulator as possible before the team would have to leave for Abu Dhabi. They wanted to go over just about every strategy and scenario in the book. You were all for it, finding extra motivation in this unexpected showdown. Your inner perfectionist thrived, agreeing that this would be the perfect way to end your rookie season.

This led to you spending the next three days running countless simulator sessions, essentially living out of the Red Bull Racing Factory. Every once in a while, you’d take a break to do some end of season media commitments, but the majority of your time was spent in front of a screen. You didn’t care that it was cutting into your weekend, because everyone on the team seemed to be just as committed to winning as you.

Or well, they had during the first few hours of training. Now, they were starting to wish the session would come to an end so that they could enjoy the rest of their weekend before it all kicked off again on Monday. You’d never noticed that Max’s team had wrapped up for the weekend a few hours ago, and that most of the senior engineers had gone home. Your team’s reluctance to stay longer on a Saturday went over your head because you were aiming for perfection.

“Can we run that scenario one more time?” You asked, knowing that you could get a better outcome.

“Uh, sure Y/N.” You never noticed the hesitance in the engineer’s voice.

You ran it again, but didn’t improve. “Again.”

A sigh from one of the techs, but they cued it up again.

In fact, you tried it another four times without any improvement from your original attempt. “Is the SIM glitching or something? I should be improving on that sector with this line.”

The engineer went on to give you a long winded, technical explanation as to why it wasn’t working for you. You got a little irritated when they eventually said that the car wasn’t built for what you were trying to do with it in this situation. There was nothing you could do. “However, the likeliness of this particular scenario coming up in the race is slim to none.”

“Fine.” You huffed, stretching your arms above your head and cringing when you realized who stiff your shoulders were. “What else is there?”

The engineer’s eyes widened slightly. “We’ve run through all our programs. There is nothing else.”

A frown broke out on your face. “Really?”

The engineer nodded. “There’s only so much data we can gather from the simulator. We have what we need to anticipate our needs for the race and give the strategists the data they need for all their planning. Any other preparation on our end for the final race will have to be done on track.”

Your frown deepened. “Surely it wouldn’t hurt to run a couple more laps?”

“…How many more?”

This time, you did notice your engineer’s gaze wandering over to the clock on the wall by the door. You turned to look at the time, noticing that it was later in the afternoon than you’d thought. Still, did that really matter if you were trying to work hard for the benefit of the team? “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

You didn’t mean for it to sound rude, but the startled look on the engineer’s face told you your question had come out like that anyways. “I did, about 30 minutes ago. I’m sure the kids will understand that my boss wasn’t feeling very confident in her own skills and wanted additional practice.”

What the fuck? Clearly, they didn’t understand that you were so focused because you didn’t want to let this team down.

The engineer seemed to realize from the shocked look on your face that they’d overstepped. But to your surprise, they didn’t back down. “Look, Y/N. We both know that running more laps of the track won’t do anything. You know the track, and no amount of time on the SIM will change the outcome of the race. It’s going to come down to instinct and natural skill. Always does.” He paused, letting out a long breath. “Anyone can practice on the SIM, but only a few people can pull it off for real. You’re one of those people.”

As much as part of you wanted to argue that practice made perfect, and as far as the engineer had overstepped, there was no denying that they were right. She could practice all she wanted on the simulator, but that was all that it was. A simulation. It could never compare to the real thing, no matter how high tech it was. There was no recreating the feeling a person got when they were on a racing track in a Formula 1 car.

Knowledge and preparation were only a small part of the puzzle. Skill, instinct, confidence in knowing that you were the best… that was the most important part. The high of knowing you were fucking flying out there, the thrill of achieving the impossible. None of that could be practiced.

“Shit, I went all intense focus ‘Viper’ mode, didn’t I?”

A chorus of yeses filled the space around you.

“Sorry guys.” You pulled your stiff body out of the simulator chair, muscles protesting because you hadn’t moved in hours. “Let’s call it here for the weekend. I’m so sorry for holding you up, but I really appreciate all the patience and work you’ve put in with me the last couple of days.” You turned to face the engineer who’d called you’re out for your… intensity “and thanks for speaking up. We are a team, after all. We’ve got to be able to call each other out on our bullshit, right?”

The relief was instant on his face. “Absolutely.”

So with that, you wrapped up the session for the day, thanking everyone again for all the extra time that they’d put in with you. Knowing that you wouldn’t be much help as they shut down all the programs, you made your way out of the simulator room to go grab your things from the driver’s lounge and head to your Milton Keynes apartment for the night. You were staying in the UK over the weekend, because you knew that you had a slew of strategy meetings on Monday to review both yours and Max’s data from the last few days of simulator work. There was no point in going back to Monaco tonight only to turn around and come back to London tomorrow night.

You nearly shit a brick when you walked into the driver’s lounge, finding that it wasn’t empty like you’d expected. “What are you still doing here?”

Max was smirking at your startled reaction, closing his laptop screen.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“SIM work.” You shot back your reason for still being at the office with a slightly narrowed gaze as you wandered over to the closet in the corner where you’d put your things. “What’s your excuse?”

“Had a meeting with your brother, actually. Went over the expectations for a race weekend and all that boring stuff so he’s ready to join us for the strategy meeting on Monday and hit the ground running.” Max answered.

Right. Said brother was boarding an overnight flight from Ottawa to London tonight and you were meant to pick him up at the airport in London tomorrow morning. Part of you still found it weird that your oldest brother would be working with your teammate for the next and final race of the season. It would be nice to have him around, even if he wasn’t necessarily going to be there to support you. At least you’d have some family around if things didn’t work out…

You quickly changed out of the racing boots you’d been wearing in the SIM all day, glad to be in your much more comfortable white Adidas sneakers. You then put on your raincoat but left it open, because you still had a few minutes’ walk through the building before you made it to the entrance. Finally, you grabbed your bag from the closet, throwing it over your shoulder.

Max seemed to decide it was time for him to head out as well, gathering his own things as you got ready and waiting for you by the door to the driver’s lounge to leave. You followed him out of the room, shutting the lights off behind you and locking up.

“Do you think we can actually beat them?” You found yourself asking Max before you could stop yourself. As much as you wanted to win, there was no stopping that thought from constantly being on your mind no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. Mercedes was the best car on the grid, without a doubt. You’d capitalized on their mistakes throughout the year. Yas Marina circuit had always been strong for Mercedes, meaning you were in for a challenging race no matter what.

“Yes.” Max answered without hesitation.

“Be serious for a minute here, Max.” You sighed.

“I am serious.” Max didn’t falter, even when you rolled your eyes at him. “As a team, we’re pretty fucking good on the track. Look at Monaco, Austria or even Brazil. There’s no way I would’ve won in Austria without you holding off Hamilton for as long as you did, the Merc was so fucking fast. Same thing last weekend in Brazil, except you actually did hold him back the whole race. And in Monaco, you saw the pace differential and even though I wasn’t much help in the end you still gave the team their first win of the year. You would’ve very likely won in Germany too, if I hadn’t fucked that up by being a selfish idiot.” He mumbled that last sentence, scratching at the back of his head almost nervously. “If anyone can hold off Lewis in Abu Dhabi, it’s you.”

Why was your stomach feeling all fluttery as Max shared his reasoning with you? “You say that like it’s easy.” You mumbled, not really knowing how else to respond to your teammate’s praise. Max chuckled. “It is easy. All we have to do is race as a team. If that means sacrificing my race for the benefit of yours, or the other way around to beat the Mercs, I have no problem with that.”

More flutters.

“Don’t let your dad hear you say that.” You deflected with a joke. That comment got a full laugh out of the Dutchman. “This stays between us.” He spoke with a cheeky grin once his laughter calmed. “Besides, it’s not like the outcome will affect the individual standings no matter where we finish.”

He was right. You’d gotten all the points you needed in Brazil to lock in your second place, meaning the highest Max could go in the driver’s standings was third and there was no one close enough behind him to catch him either.

“Alright, we’ll race as a team.” You nodded, still processing everything he’d said in the last few minutes.

You then stopped in your tracks and held out your hand, pinky extended in his direction. Max seemed confused, as you waved you pinky in front of him. “Give me your pinky, Verstappen.” You instructed hastily, linking your pinkies together when he finally raised his hand to meet yours. “Pinky promise, we win together or lose together. No matter what happens, we’re a team.”

A small, genuine smile crept onto Max’s face as his confusion faded away. It was one of those rare smiles that he only shared with the people he was closest to, showing just how content he was in the moment. Max wasn’t one to show his emotions so openly, unless he trusted that person. Lately, you’d found him easier to read when you could get a good look in his eyes. The smile he was giving you showed that you were included in that short list he felt like he could trust to be himself around.

“A team.” He repeated as you shook your linked pinkies. “At least until next season. All bets are off when the points reset.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You smirked. “I fully intend to kick your ass again next year.”

“We’ll see about that.” His smirk matched yours, as you continued to walk towards the exit of the factory. Just like that, things were back to normal as you continued to tease one another about your expectations for the next season.

“Any fun plans for your Saturday night?” Max asked as you reached the doors, brow furrowing slightly when you pulled an umbrella out of your bag. You had a short walk back to your flat, and it seemed to still be raining as it had been for most of the day.

“Oh you know, sitting at home and having a nice relaxing night in.” You said, even though that wasn’t entirely true.

“That wasn’t even remotely convincing.” Max called you out, knowing that you’d probably spend the next few hours on your personal simulator running about a million laps on the circuit for next weekend.

You shrugged.

“Forget about that.” Max shook his head at you, face lighting up in the way it usually did when he had a bad idea he thought was good. “Why don’t we go to London and forget about all of this” he gestured around the Red Bull factory lobby “for the next 24 hours.”

Your brows raised of their own accord. “Huh?”

Max’s confidence faded slightly as his cheeks flushed slightly. “Yeah, think of it as team bonding. We’ll go to London, have some food and just chill out. Not overthink about the next race for a little bit.”

You bit back a comment about how if you weren’t overthinking about the race, there was nothing stopping you from overthinking about other things you’d rather avoid thinking about. Instead, you took a moment to consider his proposal.

Would it be weird, to spend this time alone with Max outside of work? It would be the first time you guys ever intentionally hung out, without Daniel or any of the other drivers around in a non-work context. Sure, you’d come to the conclusion that you were becoming friends and you didn’t mind spending time with Max, but this would be different. Or would it be just like hanging out with any other friend? Maybe it wasn’t nearly as big a deal as you were already making it out to be in your head.

In the end, you decided that it wouldn’t be weird to spend more time with your friend outside of work. Maybe you’d carry on watching more episodes of Bachelor in Paradise. “What hotel are you staying at? I can book myself a room so I don’t have to drive back out here tonight. It’ll make it easier to pick up my brother too.”

Max almost seemed surprised that you’d accepted his offer to go to London and hang out tonight. “I have a suite at the Berkeley with a spare room that was intended for your brother as of tomorrow. Room’s yours for the night if you want it.”

“In that case, dinner’s on me.”

“No argument here.” That smile was back on his face. “Let’s get the fuck out of Milton Keynes then.”

You nodded in agreement, following Max out of the main factory building and running with him through the parking lot towards his Aston Martin to avoid the rain. You couldn’t help but laugh as you splashed through some shallow puddles during the dash to the car, somehow not ending up completely soaked in the heavy downpour. Max started up his car, and after a quick stop at your flat to grab an overnight bag with a change of clothes and everything you’d need for the next 24 hours, you were on route to London.

You refused to overthink things, simply enjoying this turn in events for what it was. Team building with your friend.

Because that’s all it could be.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Did you get another Aston Martin?” Was the first thing your brother asked when you picked him up at London Heathrow. “I could’ve sworn yours was blue.”

“It is, back in Monaco. This is Max’s.” You said offhandedly, popping the truck.

Your answer only caused your brother to look at you like you’d grown another head. “Why are you picking me up in Max’s car?”

“Aren’t you listening? Mine’s in Monaco.” You didn’t mention that you had a lovely Honda road car to drive around Milton Keynes, or that the only reason you were using Max’s car was because you’d come for a little overnight adventure with him in London last night.

Max had surprised you again, last night. You’d had a very enjoyable time out from Milton Keynes and found that you were glad you have come out to London. You guys had gone to dinner at one of your favourite private restaurants in London, before layering up and going for a walk through Hyde Park (which was all decked out for Winter Wonderland). By some miracle, you hadn’t been recognized as you wandered aimlessly through the fair, eating more deserts than your performance coach would ever allow and talking about anything but racing. It was a very fun and chill night out with a friend. Not at all weird like you’d worried it would be.

So, what if you’d lost a little bit of sleep because all you could think about was the way he’d looked at you when brushing a bit of hair out of your face so that it wouldn’t get in your food when you took a bite. Or the fact that he looked at you that way a second time when you’d given up on sleep for a little bit and gone to get a glass of water in the kitchen, finding Max doing the same thing.

You’d sat in the kitchen for a few more hours, talking about stuff you didn’t talk to just anyone about. You talked about how much pressure you felt, all the fucking time because of your gender and the fact that it would always be part of the conversation no matter what you accomplished in the sport. You talked about how freaked out you’d been when you’d first woken up in the hospital in Austin after your crash because you were convinced that your career was over. You talked about how guilty you felt for having a better season than Daniel, knowing that it was probably killing him a little bit that your success could’ve been his if he’d stuck around with Red Bull for an extra year.

It had been easy, telling Max the things you didn’t even want to think about.

And in return, Max had told you more about the pressure he felt trying to live up to his father’s expectations. He told you about some pretty horrible things he’d experienced when he’d been a kid, his father more concerned with teaching him some hard life lessons than being a supportive role model. He told you about his insecurities when it came to the way the media portrayed him, always painting him as an aggressive instigator who wasn’t scared to go too far if it meant coming out on top. He told you how much he envied your family dynamic, and the way that your father would go to the ends of the earth for you no matter than you did.

After the sun started to rise, you’d both retreated to your rooms with the knowledge that you’d never shared that much of yourselves with anyone else.

But that’s what friends did, right?

“Y/N!” Your brother was snapping his fingers in front of your face, trying to regain your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry, I had a hard time sleeping.” You brushed off your weird behavior as you walked over to the driver’s side of the car.

“Do you want me to drive?” Your brother offered slowly.

You scoffed, fully snapping out of your funk. “Remind me, who between us drives for a living. Besides, you’ve haven’t driven on the left-hand side since we lived in Australia, I’m not letting you crash Max’s car on my watch.” You rambled as you got into the car and started it up, the purr of the motor easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

“You never did answer me when I asked you why you had Max’s car.” You should’ve known your brother wouldn’t drop it.

“He called me out for overworking at the factory yesterday and dragged me to London so I wouldn’t spend the night on my simulator in Milton Keynes. Instead of paying an arm and a leg for 2 cab rides, he let me borrow his car since I was bringing you back to the hotel.”

“…Back?” Your brother said slowly. “You spent the night in your teammate’s hotel room?”

“It’s a 2-bedroom suite, you nosy cunt.” You muttered with an eye roll, knowing that your brother wouldn’t be insulted by your language. You’d had your most important developmental years for your vocabulary in Australia, after all. “I crashed in the second room. Same room you’re using till we leave for Abu Dhabi on Tuesday.”

“Oh.” He had the audacity to sound disappointed that you weren’t shacking up with your teammate.

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother backtracked, shaking his head vigorously. If you weren’t caught up in some annoying London morning traffic and running on practically no sleep, you’d pester your brother until he told you want you wanted to know. You could already feel a headache coming on from the exhaustion and you didn’t want to make it worse by overthinking even more than you already were this morning. Instead, you tabled the topic for the moment and chose to ask him about his flight. That was safe, and neutral. You’d deal with everything else later.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You were the first in the handful of people you were going to be traveling with today to show up at the private airport, ready to get this show on the road. You beat Christian, Helmut, their assistants, the strategy and communications leads, your performance coach, your brother, and Max. In fact, you’d shown up around an hour before everyone else, buzzing with a nervous energy that reminded you very much about how you felt before traveling to Australia for the first race of the season.

You weren’t surprised that your brother and Max were the last to arrive, cutting it close. You watched from your seat as they strolled in, laughing about something they’d been talking about prior to making it to your gate, carrying trays of coffee for everyone on the flight. A small smile grew on your face when Max offered you the first cup, mumbling about a dash of cinnamon mixed into your oat milk latte because he’d seen you do that when making your own coffees at the factory. His smile matched yours after you took a sip from the offered cup and let out a little satisfied sigh.

“Are we all ready to head out and win this Championship for the team?” Christian asked, now that everyone was here.

You spared half a glance at your teammate again, sure that the determination you spotted in his gaze was reflected in yours. You then nodded at your boss, because you were ready to give your all for the team’s success this weekend.

With that being said, you all boarded the plane and took off for the final race weekend of the season. You went and claimed one of the pair of rows with the table between them, your brother taking the seat opposite to you. Though he’d been in the UK for a couple of days now, you hadn’t really seen him because he’d spent all of his time getting up to speed with Max. You’d finally have a chance to properly catch up on this flight.

Max took the seat next to your brother, after shooting you a look to quietly ask if you minded. You didn’t.

In fact, the three of you spent the entirety of the flight talking and joking around. Max was eating up all the embarrassing stories that your brother decided to share about silly things you’d done as a kid or when you’d first started competing in go-karting. You wanted to be annoyed, but you didn’t actually mind because you had your own fair share of embarrassing stories about your brother. The only person getting through the flight unscathed was Max, though he didn’t seem that bothered, enjoying the way you and your brother were trying to one-up the other with your stories.

Your brother and Max got along better than you could’ve ever predicted, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Max would try to convince him to take the position of performance coach full time for the following year. You would be the first to support this.

The 6 hour flight had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye, the conversation never coming to a halt. It was just an added bonus that you hadn’t stressed for even a second about what you were going to Abu Dhabi to try and accomplish. You hoped that the light atmosphere would last throughout the whole weekend, even though you were well aware that it was some wishful thinking.

It didn’t change the fact that you felt good when you touched down in Abu Dhabi, ready for the challenge ahead.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Do you seriously not think that this is not another massive waste of time?” You muttered, fully glaring at the little screen that showed the decreasing floor numbers in the elevator, bringing you further away from your hotel room. The last thing you wanted to do right now was to go to a mandatory dinner the FIA was putting on for all the drivers and team bosses ahead of the final race of the season. The one good thing about it was that it was being held in the hotel event space, meaning you had an easy out whenever you’d be able to pull off an escape without anyone else noticing.

“Of course it is, but we don’t have a choice.” Max agreed flippantly, though he didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the whole thing as you did. “If we want to keep racing, we need to learn to swim with the sharks.”

Maybe it was because he hadn’t just had to spend the last thirty minutes making sure he looked presentable, able to just quickly change into some dark jeans and a light blue linen button up and call it a day… Your loosely curled hair and subtle makeup hadn’t done itself, after all. And, you would much rather be in your pyjamas than wearing some light wash jeans with a silky black tank top tucked in at the waist, along with some irritating high heeled black sandals.

You were practically dragging your feet as you walked through the lobby and into the event space where the dinner was being held, finding that a lot of the drivers were already there. Daniel and Carlos were the first to approach you and Max, everyone seeming to agree that this was a big waste of time ahead of one of the biggest races of the season. It wasn’t only important for Red Bull and Mercedes. The midfield teams were all fighting for positions as well.

The teams were all separated at some round tables when the dinner itself actually started, you found yourself sitting between Christian and Max. You barely said a word, starring longingly at your empty champagne flute and wishing that someone would bring you a refill. You could think about a million better ways to be spending your time tonight.

When dinner finished, it became even more painful as the FIA started to encourage everyone to mingle and enjoy one of the last gatherings of the season. You hadn’t moved from your seat, Max keeping you company for most of the time as other drivers came to join you at the table for quick conversations before wandering off again. You kept eyeing the clock, trying to figure out how soon you’d be able to leave without pissing any of the higher ups off.

“I know we have media tomorrow, but did you want another drink? This dinner has been… long.” Max offered, figuring that they wouldn’t be getting out of here any time soon.

“Yes please.”

He didn’t ask what you wanted, simply getting up from his seat and making his way over to the cue at the bar.

“Y/N.”

You turned in your seat to face the familiar German accented voice, making sure to hide your surprise when none other than Toto Wolff himself took up the vacant seat next to you at the empty Red Bull table. Everyone who’d been sitting there for dinner had since gotten up to mingle, and Max had just left to go get you both another drink from the bar. A quick glance in his direction told you it would be a few minutes before he returned, because there seemed to be quite a cue in in front of him waiting for refills.

“Toto.” You politely greeted the Mercedes team boss, wondering what the hell he was up to. Was he just sitting here to annoy Christian, trying to get a rise out of your own team boss? Probably not, cause Christian was too involved in a conversation across the room to even notice what was happening at your table.

He didn’t leave you to wonder for too long, breaking the silence. “You seem to have a lot on your mind.”

You smiled coyly at the Austrian. “I think we all do. It could be a big weekend for us.”

“Yes, it would be quite the upset for us if you took the constructors championship out from under our noses.” He agreed with a knowing grin of his own. “But, that’s not what I came here to talk about.”

If you weren’t intrigued before, you sure as hell were now. “Well, how can I help you then Toto?”

You should’ve known from the twinkle in his eyes that his real motivation was about to throw you for a loop. “I’d like to offer you a contract with Mercedes once your current one with Red Bull comes to an end after the 2020 season.”

It’s a good thing you hadn’t been drinking anything at that moment, because you surely would’ve spat it out. “Pardon?”

“I have no doubt that you will be a world champion, sooner rather than later. Mercedes is in the position to give you a car that will allow you to achieve that goal.” He stated simply, as if you were only discussing the weather and not a life-changing move.

Your gaze narrowed suspiciously. “I have a good car with Red Bull that’s only going to get better with next year’s development. I’m only two wins just of matching your current champion, with a car that is admittedly not up to par. Why would I even consider leaving Red Bull to play second fiddle to Lewis? I’m not going to throw away my season to support someone else.”

Toto nodded along to your points as you spoke, taking them in. He didn’t try to deny his intentions. “You don’t think Red Bull will ask that of you as well? They’ve signed your teammate to a multi-year extension. If you ask me, it makes it rather clear who their top horse in the race is. We only have Lewis until the end of next year.”

You rolled your eyes at Toto. Sure, Max was locked in with Red Bull with one of the longest contracts out of all drivers that were currently on the grid, but he’d signed that at the beginning of the year. It wasn’t as big a secret as Toto was making it out to be. You didn’t doubt that Red Bull would offer you something similar next year, if you kept up with the racing record you’d provided this year.

“Don’t bullshit me and try to say you’re going to let him go when his contract expires. Lewis is winning, he’s not going anywhere.”

“You think Helmut Marko will offer you a similar deal to the one he offered Verstappen?” The way he looked at you like he knew something you didn’t threw you off.

“Why wouldn’t he? I’ve more than proved myself.” You hated that you didn’t sound as confident as you would’ve liked. The last thing you needed was to let this get to your head.

“Because they know you will win, and they cannot afford that.”

Now you were looking at Toto like he’d grown another head. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t think they’d complain if I won a championship for the team.”

“Even you are not naïve enough to believe that it is as simple as winning or losing, Y/N.” Toto chided your emotional response. “I have no doubt that Red Bull will support Verstappen’s development over yours, going forward. They can’t afford to lose the financial support of those backing Verstappen. It wouldn’t look good to his investors if he was continuously made to look like the rookie in comparison to his much newer, female, teammate. They never expected you to succeed like you have.”

When he saw that you weren’t going to interrupt, he continued with his sales pitch. “At Mercedes, we don’t rely on outside funding. There is no outside influence pushing for specific results, we simply do what we can to support our driver’s performance. If you are in the position to win, we will help you do that. Lewis would support you, as much as it would be expected for you to support him. He wouldn’t stand in the way of your title if you are performing better.”

“I think you’re full of shit, Toto.” You said, doing your best to keep your expression neutral. You were convinced that the team boss was just trying to play mind games and make you doubt yourself and your team ahead of the final race because there was a lot at stake for the both of you. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that despite your best efforts, there was already a little voice in the back of your mind contemplating the what if.

Toto’s smile was almost sympathetic now. “No you don’t, you’re smarter than that.”

You didn’t say anything in response to that, looking at your own team boss across the room engaged in a conversation with the FIA director, Helmut and Jos Verstappen. Though it was very likely just a coincidence, the way they seemed to be speaking in hushed, private whispers only seemed to further Toto’s argument. Your gaze filtered back to the table, focusing instead on the empty champagne flute in front of you, wishing desperately that it was full.

You never should’ve come to this stupid dinner.

“Look,” Toto started as he stood from the seat next to yours, gaze drifting over to Max who was starting to walk back to your table. “Regardless of what happens on Sunday, my door is always open for you if you change your mind, or just want to talk things through. I think you have the potential to do so much more than this team will ever allow you to do.”

You met Toto’s gaze, surprised by how sincere he appeared to be. Though you wanted to tell him right away that it wouldn’t be necessary, you kept your mouth shut. Instead, you gave him the smallest of nods, confirming that you would keep what he’d said in mind in the coming months. You didn’t risk saying anything out loud, because Max was now within hearing distance.

Toto stood and left just as Max arrived, the Mercedes team boss leaving without saying another word.

Max took the recently vacated seat, placing a vodka soda on the table in front of you. You thanked him with a small smile, instantly taking the drink and taking a rather large sip. Max eyed you warily, clearly debating whether he should ask what the Toto had wanted. His curiosity seemed to win out, the question soon escaping his mouth. “What was that about?”

You met his gaze head on and lied through your teeth. “He just wanted to make sure we would play nice on Sunday.”

Max smirked, clearly buying your explanation. “Hope you told him to fuck off.”

“More or less.” You felt a little bad for lying, but it was better than facing a billion questions. Besides, Max wouldn’t get it. Part of you wanted to find Daniel and talk about it with him because he was probably the one who would understand the best. He’d chosen to leave Red Bull, when it was clear that Max was their future.

Fuck Toto for putting this shit in your head.

“Woah…” Max commented when you downed the rest of your drink in one go. “I would’ve gotten you two if I’d known you were in that kind of a mood.”

“As much as I would like to, it wouldn’t be a good look to get hammered right now.” You shrugged, your smile becoming a little bit more real at Max’s amused expression. Even though you were barely toeing the line towards feeling a little bit buzzed, you fully intended to blame you next question on the very little amount of alcohol you’d consumed tonight. “You wanna get out of here?”

Max nearly choked on his gin and tonic, that bewildered look back in his eyes because it had been the last thing he’d expected. “What?” He asked, unable to stop his gaze from wandering over your frame as his cheeks flushed.

“Not like that, you goof.” A light laugh escaping you when his blush only deepened. “I’m just done with the fake smiles and small talk for tonight, and I know you aren’t a fan of these things either. I’d feel bad if I left you stranded here to deal with the sharks all on your own, considering what you said on the lift earlier.”

Max nodded along to your reasoning, finishing what was left of his gin and tonic in one swoop like you had just done. “I don’t think my dad would be too impressed if I left early.” Max pointed out, though his mind already seemed made up as he pushed his chair back and stood up. “But, fuck it.”

Your smile widened significantly. “Jos was right. I am a bad influence.” You said, referring to a comment Jos had made to Christian the race weekend after you’d won in Japan and convinced Max to come celebrate with the rest of the drivers, even though he hadn’t finished the race because in Jos’s eyes, there had been nothing worth Max celebrating. But then again, you’d never cared much for Jos Verstappen’s opinion of you and that wasn’t about to change.

You stood, and walked right over to the doors that led out of the event space. You didn’t stop to speak with anyone, only sparing half a glance behind you to see if Max had followed you out. He did. You thought for a second about walking out of the hotel to the valet had having your rented car for the weekend brought out to go for a drive but you also knew that the hotel entrance was crawling with photographers.

The more thought you have it, the more you knew exactly where you wanted to go.

So you led Max over to the elevators at the back of the lobby. One opened as soon as you’d pressed the call button, so you walked in and pressed the button for the top floor. Max didn’t say anything as the elevator rose to the top of the high-rise building, even when you passed the floor to your rooms.

You retraced steps that you’d taken this same time last year, to the end of the hall where there was a staircase. You smiled again when you found the door unlocked, pushing it open and climbing up a few more flights of stairs until you reached a second unlocked door. To his credit, Max still didn’t say a word as you walked out onto the roof of the hotel, high enough in the sky to see the whole city ahead of you. You walked right over to the edge that faced the track, the smile never leaving your face as you found the two lawn chairs that had been left up here from last year.

“How did you find this?” Max asked, eyeing the edge of the building a little more cautiously than you. You almost thought he was a little nervous to be this high up, whereas it didn’t bother you. Heights were not one of your fears.

“Daniel brought me up here, last year.” You answered the question. “You know I only beat Russell by 2 points last year, right? It came down to the Sprint because I fucked up the feature race and George didn’t. He got 21 free points to catch up. I came so close to psyching myself out of the F2 Driver’s Championship win.”

“A pity party, seriously?”

You groaned in response, not bothering to lift your head from where it was smothered into your pillow from you having plopped down face first on your bed a while ago. You wanted to forget all about today and the fact that you’d fucked up your race start and hadn’t been able to keep up with the front runners throughout the race. What should’ve been the race to clinch your F2 title, wound up being the biggest fucking disaster of the year. You could only imagine what they were saying about you in the media…

“Come on Viper, you’re better than that.”

“Fuck off Ricciardo, no one asked you.” You bit back, wishing he would leave you alone. “How did you even get in my room?”

“I used my famous Aussie charm on the receptionist, obviously.” Daniel dismissed your question. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself and get out of bed. You know damn well you can still win the whole thing in the sprint race tomorrow.”

“What’s to stop my car from losing power again?!” You flipped onto your back, glaring at your best friend. “I have no choice but to take P1 tomorrow if I want to win. I don’t know if I can do it Danny. I don’t fucking trust the engine not to quit on me again.”

“You’re talking to the guy who has 8 DNFs to his name this year, most of those because of a fucking shit of shit engine. Don’t bitch at me like I don’t understand.” He wasn’t going to let you get away with that comment. “Now get your fucking stubborn ass out of bed. I got us food and it’s getting cold.”

You raised a brow, seeing that his hands were empty. “I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t make me call mum.”

You cringed, knowing that of all people, Grace Ricciardo would give you a talking if she saw you like this. She would tell you not to waste any of the food. She would tell you that feeling sorry for yourself wasn’t going to make things better and that giving up wasn’t the answer. “Don’t bring Grace into this.” You muttered, pushing yourself up off of the bed. “Where’s the food?”

“Come with me.” Daniel said, a cheeky grin on his face now that he’d gotten his way.

You rolled your eyes but moved to grab your oversized Red Bull sweater that you’d stolen from Daniel months ago, quickly threw it on, grabbed your room key then followed him out of your hotel room. You didn’t bother bringing your phone, knowing that the messages of support that were waiting for you would only make you feel worse about the situation you were in.

You only grew more confused as you watched Daniel press the button for the top floor in the elevator, knowing that his room was only a few above your own and not that high up. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer, eyes gleaming mischievously.

You didn’t bother asking again, knowing that he wouldn’t answer. Instead, you went along with it, because that’s what you always did with Daniel. He’d never force you to do anything you weren’t up for.

You started to question your decision to go with the flow when Daniel brought you to a staircase at the end of the hall of the top floor, playing around with the door handle until it clicked and he was able to push it open. He then took the stairs two at a time, continuing to climb until you make it to another door that was left unlocked.

You felt the wind the moment you stepped onto the roof of the hotel, hands automatically going into the pocket at the front of your hoodie. It was a warm breeze, blowing your hair wildly behind you. You followed Daniel towards the edge of the roof, watching in growing wonder as you took in the illuminated city skyline in the distance. Then as you looked to the left, you could see the Yas Marina Circuit, lit up brightly, able to take it every twist and turn from a distance. You could even see the stage set up, where Guns N Roses would be performing after the end of the main race tomorrow.

Daniel walked over to a couple of questionable looking lawn chairs, at the edge of the roof that faced the track. He took a seat in one, reaching between the two chairs to grab the take-away bag that presumably held your dinner. You sat in the chair next to him, accepting one of the plain chicken and rice meals that were pretty much routine on race weekends. You opened your container, and tucked in with the plastic fork he’d given you with it.

“How did you find this place?”

He shrugged, answering you between mouthfuls of food. “Found it a couple years ago, when I wanted some space after a shitty quali.”

You narrowed your gaze, trying to appear offended even though you knew Daniel wouldn’t buy it. “And you kept it a secret from me? I’ve been to this race with you for the last four years.”

He shrugged his shoulders a second time, fighting back a grin. “You haven’t needed it.”

He was right about that. You’d been on top of the world your last time in Abu Dhabi, because you’d won both of those races and secured your seat in Formula 2 for the following season. And before that, you were just having fun taking in everything you could as Daniel’s guest in the Red Bull garage. Abu Dhabi had always been filled with good memories. Until today. “I don’t know if I can win tomorrow.”

“Is P2 really the end of the world?” Daniel challenged.

“Yeah.” You easily answered, and the certainty in your voice had Daniel raising a brow as he waited for you to explain. You let out a long breath, then started biting at your lower lip. “Daniel, if I tell you this you can’t tell anyone else or make a big deal out of it, okay?”

“Daniel? You never use my full name. Must be big.” You rolled your eyes impatiently, watching as he raised his hands in surrender. “You know I won’t tell a soul…”

You bit at your lip some more, knowing that the minute you said it out loud it would make it even more real. You’d been holding this in since you’d arrived in Abu Dhabi on Tuesday, overthinking it to death. You hadn’t dared speak about it with anyone because you didn’t want to jinx it. “If I win tomorrow, Christian wants to offer me the seat.”

Clearly, this hadn’t been what Daniel had been expecting to hear, because his jaw dropped. For a split second, you thought this would make him angry because it was essentially his seat being offered to you on a silver platter. Sure, he had made the decision to leave and go to Renault next season, but you were scared this would cause some… friction with your best friend. “Christian Horner? The Red Bull team principle. My boss, for the next week?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…” he paused, mouth shut for a few moments as he made sure to pick the right word to describe how he fault about the situation “fantastic!”

You felt some of the weight lifting off of your shoulders, relieved to have someone else know about the secret you’d been keeping for days. “You really think so?”

“Y/N, this means you’ll be on the grid next year. Why the fuck would I think otherwise? We’ve been talking about this since we were kids.” Now that he was processing your news, the surprise in his voice gave way to genuine excitement. “I’m finally going to be able to kick your ass in the same league again.” He added cheekily.

“You’re not mad that I would be taking your seat?” You asked, just to be sure.

Daniel laughed, finding your question hilarious. “Of course not! I chose to leave Red Bull, remember? Besides, a seat is a seat. Someone has to fill it. You should’ve been on the grid with us years ago. Fuck, it’s going to be so much fun.”

It would be, but you couldn’t get too wrapped up in that yet. “Yeah… All I have to do is win tomorrow. They want a champion. No pressure or whatever…” You sighed, gaze drifting back to the track in front of you. “I want this so bad, Danny.”

“Well then, do it.” He said. “Quit wasting your energy sulking about things not going your way today and put it towards doing what you have to do tomorrow. You already know exactly how to do it. You’ve topped the times in practices and qualifying. If it hadn’t been for things outside your control, it would’ve been yours already. But you can’t let the shit that’s out of your control hold you back, moving forward. Just use your knowledge and experience, and show em all how it’s done.”

A familiar warmth filled your chest as Daniel spoke, his words actually doing more than he would ever know to make you feel better about your current situation, because you knew he was right. You could win it, you had the experience and instinct to pull you through that. Everything else was outside of your control. So you just had to make the most of the opportunity and show everyone that you deserved to be competing with the best of the best.

You could do it.

You’d won this race before, after all.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, still looking at the track. You could see the start/finish line, you gaze slowly running through the track as you visualized everything you would have to do to win. You could see it, so clearly. All that was left to do was to go out there and put your all into it and win.

“Anytime.”

You let out a relieved breath, finally feeling like yourself again now that you’d managed to get everything off your chest. You felt so good, that you couldn’t help but smirk confidently at Daniel. “You better be at the podium when I win tomorrow.”

“Welcome back, Viper.”

And after everything was said and done the following afternoon, Daniel had been the first person to pull you into a bone crushing hug when you jumped out of your car, the newest Formula 2 World Champion. When the party had wrapped up hours later, you’d come back up to the roof with Daniel as the sun had been rising over the horizon to privately toast to your victory and everything that would follow now that you’d secured a seat in Formula 1.

Max was smiling fondly at you as you finished recounting the story of how you’d discovered the rooftop. “I remember watching that race from the garage. Everyone watched it, Daniel insisted. I don’t think I’d ever seen Daniel as stressed as he was waiting for the lights to go out then watching everyone rush the first corner. I don’t even think he was breathing until you took the lead. You had dominated the whole race from start to finish, not making a single mistake and defending perfectly from every single attack. I had a feeling we’d be seeing you on the grid soon.”

“He was the only one who knew how important that race was for my future.” You were smiling too, fully able to see Daniel being a bundle of nerves as he waited for you to accomplish one of your dreams. You’d been the same way, watching him race in Monaco last year. “I’d argue he’s always been my biggest supporter, because he gets it more than my family ever will. Hell, he funded my first Formula 2 season because sponsors wanted nothing to do with a female driver. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.”

“That would be a fucking shame.”

Something about the way Max said those words, and the way he was looking at you as he said them had those fluttery feelings in your stomach returning by the tenfold. It was almost like he hadn’t meant to say it, but now that they’d been said out loud, he had no desire to take them back. His gaze was intense, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from those sharp, blue eyes.

“I don’t know about that… You might’ve won a few more races without me around.” Your voice was quiet all the sudden, losing its earlier confidence.

“Maybe.” He acknowledged but didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“But then I never would’ve gotten to race with you, heerlijk.”

It was then that you seemed to realize just how close to one another you were standing on this hotel rooftop, not even noticing the spectacular view around you anymore. How could you, when all you could think about was about how Max’s eyes were so expressive, you almost felt as though you could read every single emotion he felt? And because your brain wasn’t thinking about consequences right now, you could see that maybe you weren’t the only one with pesky little fluttery feelings that you’d been trying to deny for months. Just friends, alright…

It only caused those flutters to intensify.

You really needed to be rational right now, to be thinking with your head instead of your emotions. Because if you kept letting your emotions run free, you didn’t doubt that you would both get burned by whatever happened. You’d gotten involved with a driver before, and it had come back to bite you in the ass. You’d sworn to never put yourself in that position again. Max was still so young and ambitious. It would never work, because of what you both wanted more than anything else. You both wanted the championship, and there was no plausible way that you could both win it first. Someone would get hurt.

But who cares?

“Max…” You whispered, trying and failing to cling onto anything at this point to stop you from doing something incredibly stupid. “What does that mean? Heerlijk.”

It seemed that as easily as you were able to read Max through his eyes, he seemed to be able to do the same to you.

Because to your complete and utter surprise, he took a step back from you. A gentle smile made its way onto his face, even though he hadn’t quite been able to hide the small flicker of disappointment in his gaze when you’d let out a relieved breath at his movement. Space was good, it helped to clear the fog that had settled over your mind. It reminded you that you couldn’t be selfish about this; not when so many people were counting on the two of you to achieve the impossible in a few days. You couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“I’ve told you before, heerlijk, that’s for me to know and for you to learn Dutch if you really want to figure it out.”

“Oh come on Max, you’ve been calling me that all year. I think I deserve to know what it means.” You pouted at him, giving him the look that Daniel had described many times in the past as the ‘puppy dog eyes’, the look that you resorted to in desperate times when you wanted to get your way because it never failed.

Except it didn’t work this time, because Max let out a strangled huff. “Heerlijk, you can’t look at me like that or I’ll do the thing that we both know is a very bad idea right now.”

Now you were the one who was flustered, putting in extra effort to ignore the voice in your head telling you to just go for it. God, you couldn’t even think of anything to say in response, completely stunned by the Dutchman. Max cleared his throat, purposely looking away from you to give you both a second to clear your minds again.

“How about this,” He spoke up, after a few moments had passed and you’d managed to get your flushed cheeks back under control. “I’ll tell you what it means after we win on Sunday.”

“What if we don’t?”

“We will.”

He sounded so sure, you couldn’t help the grin that made its way onto your face. “Ok.”

Your smile grew when he held out his pinky for you, a sign that he was making it another promise between you two. You twisted your pinky through his and shook his hand a couple of times, ignoring the way your pinky continued to tingle as you lowered your hand back down to your side.

“Let’s call it a night.” He then suggested. “I’m sure tomorrow will be exhausting, answering the same questions for the media over and over again. Best to try and rest while we still can.”

You nodded, so that you wouldn’t open you mouth and suggest something else entirely.

This time it was you following Max as he led you back into the hotel, down the stairs and hall towards the elevator. You didn’t say another word as you took the elevator down to the hotel floor you both shared, Max walking alongside you because your rooms weren’t that far apart. Thankfully, you didn’t bump into anyone you knew, because you didn’t think you were in any state to make up an explanation as to what you were doing alone with Max at this time of night after leaving the FIA dinner earlier than everyone else.

Max walked you all the way to your room, standing a few steps behind you as you pulled your room key out of your back pocket. You tapped it against the sensor, pushing the door open once it had unlocked. You took half a step inside, then turned around to say goodnight to Max.

But again, you couldn’t find you voice as you met those crystal clear blue eyes.

You didn’t move as he closed the distance between you, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek. “Goodnight, heerlijk.” He whispered, before pulling back and disappearing down the hall to his own room.

Your cheek burned as you let your door shut in front of you, your brain absolutely fried after everything that had happened tonight. The dreadful dinner, Toto’s offer, everything with Max… it was just too much to process. You stood starring at your door for far longer than you’d care to admit.

Eventually, you’d managed to pull enough braincells back together to get yourself ready for bed. Though, sleep didn’t come easily. You’d spent the next few hours tossing and turning, overthinking everything and replaying your interactions with Max in your mind. Because the more you thought about it, the clearer it became.

You were absolutely fucked.

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Find the next part, HERE.

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TAGLIST :

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Too many names in the taglist, the rest will be included in the comments.

Viper // Part 3 // MAX VERSTAPPEN – N.01 (N.033)

GIF by writingaslan

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for being patient with me for this next part. I’m so glad that you’ve all enjoyed the previous 2 parts. Again, let me know what you think cause those comments always make me smile! Also if you’re not in the taglist, it’s cause the username wasn’t working when I tried to put it in.

Find the previous 2 parts on my masterlist, here.

Summary: Y/N fills the vacant Red Bull seat at the beginning of the 2019 season, craziness ensues.

Characters: Max Verstappen / Driver Reader, Daniel Ricciardo x Driver Reader (besties).

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: Fluff, Comfort, Drama, Angst. All the good stuff. Mentions of sex, language, etc.

You missed out on a podium in Russia by a couple of tenths of a second, Leclerc just barely managing to push his car across the finish line first. Though you’d forced a smile onto your face through your post-race media rounds, the smile vanished the moment you’d stepped into the debrief room and had it out with your team because a mechanical error on the last lap (you hadn’t been able to use your DRS) cost you the podium.

You’d feel bad about yelling later, but in the moment you felt like you’d lost so many valuable points in your bid for the Championship. The gap between you and Lewis almost seemed impossible now. Based on the resigned looks that crossed your team’s faces… you knew they’d accepted the fact that it was essentially out of reach going forward.

Granted, you should be happy with the way your rookie season in Formula 1 was turning out. Already, with 2 wins and multiple podium finishes, you’d done so much more than what everyone had been expecting of you. You were currently back in second, just a few point ahead of Max, but with 5 races left to the season and an over 50 point gap between you and the championship leader… odds weren’t in your favour because you highly doubted Lewis would have 2 DNFs to let you catch up.

It didn’t change the fact that it was a hard pill to swallow.

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Japan was a weird one.

You already knew that some of your friends on the grid had a hard time at this circuit, because of what had happened in 2014. Daniel had a little bit less of that usual sparkle in his eye, the young driver clearly on his mind through the weekend. You felt bad for Charles in particular, who had to field questions about Jules from the media, because it was no secret that Charles was living out his godfather’s dream with the seat in Ferrari.

Then on Friday, it was announced that all sessions on Saturday would be cancelled, and the Qualifying session would be rescheduled for Sunday morning, in anticipation of a big typhoon rolling in on Saturday. It led to a weird atmosphere in the hotel on Saturday, drivers having an unexpected day off in the middle of the race weekend and having no idea what to do with themselves. You, and a few other drivers and performance coaches, had wound up in Daniel’s room watching movies and eating smart popcorn. Not your typical race weekend Saturday at all, but it seemed no one wanted to spend it alone.

Sunday you woke up to some beautiful clear skies, heading off to the track at the crack of dawn to get to work. It was easier that expected to get back into the swing of things after that impromptu day off, diving right into qualifying. Both you and Max had made it into Q3, and even weirder, you set the exact same qualifying time (he’d wound up in the lead because he’d set the time first), starting P5 and P6 on the grid. You’d done your post-qualifying interviews together, before heading back to the garage to go through your preparation routine ahead of the race.

The weirdness of the weekend didn’t end there. Once the lights went out, you’d managed to gain a few positions from the start and wound up in P3. Max wasn’t as lucky, involved in some contact with Charles that spun him off the track and damaged his car. Though he’d tried to carry on with the race, the team eventually decided to retire Max’s car from the race when they realized that wouldn’t make up pace and put all their focus on you.

The pressure didn’t bother you, instead motivating you to do whatever you could to get the most points for the team. And somehow, thanks to some fantastic pit strategies and a little bit of luck, you’d crossed the finish line a few seconds ahead of Bottas and Hamilton, taking the win. The celebration was a little bit bittersweet for the team, considering the DNF, but it was also their 5th win of the season.

After the podium celebration and team photo, you’d convinced your PR officer to give you a couple of minutes to change out of your champagne-soaked suit before heading to the media pen, so you’d quickly made your way through the garage, intent on getting to your driver’s room as quickly as possible.

You never expected to bump into Max and his father Jos, the latter essentially reaming out his son for the poor outcome on the race. You’d taken a few steps back to avoid being seen, not wanting to interrupt something that clearly wasn’t meant for your eyes.

That didn’t stop you from overhearing the gist of Jos’s cruel words. “-didn’t even fight to stay in the race. I taught you better than that. You’ll never become champion if you keep letting that hoer ahead of you! I thought you’d learned after Germany, but it’s clear that you’d rather be on that slet’s good graces than winning races. Ik ben teleurgesteld in jou (I’m disappointed in you.)” Oh great, they were talking about you. You didn’t know what Jos had called you, but you doubted that it was anything nice.

“Leclerc’s the one who ruined my race today by running me off the track. Y/L/N had nothing to do with it.” Max’s tone lacked the… confidence it usually held.

Jos wasn’t having it. “You gave her the better line off the start.”

“She beat me to it.” Max argued, accent strong as he continued to voice his argument. “I don’t let her do anything. She’s a fucking good driver. Red Bull wouldn’t have given her the second seat if she wasn’t.”

Jos laughed menacingly. “We all know she’s only on the team for the PR benefits of having a girl in the sport. Red Bull is making millions in additional brand deals and sponsorships. She’s a commodity. You’re just soft for her. It’s making you look like a fool on the track.”

 You didn’t know what insulted you the most out of what Max’s dad had just said, but it’s not like you could defend yourself without giving away the fact that you’d been eavesdropping for longer than you should’ve been.

“Je hebt het fout (You’re wrong).” Max snapped.

Jos only laughed. “En je bent een hopeloze dwaas (And you’re a hopeless fool.) She’ll ruin you, and you’re letting her do it.”

You’d had enough of this. You took a few silent steps further back in the hallway, before loudly reopening the door and pretending to walk through. You kept the best poker face you could as you turned the corner towards your driver’s room, pretending to be surprised to find another two people standing in the hallway, walking until you were stood in front of your door.

“Max, Jos.” You nodded to them.

“Y/N.” Max wouldn’t meet your gaze, unlike his father who was openly glaring at you.

You didn’t falter, cocking your head to the side in challenge. Jos Verstappen didn’t scare you, you’d dealt with worse in the past. “Sorry about the DNF. Super unlucky but at least the stewards gave him a couple penalties. He wound up in P8.”

Max couldn’t hide his surprise. You never expressed sympathy after a bad result. In fact, you usually avoided him in these cases. You hadn’t been awful to him lately, but you also weren’t friends. “Oh, yeah. It sucked. But, congratulations on your win. I saw a couple of good looking overtakes on the replay screens.”

“Yes, enjoy the win while you still can.” Jos added, attempting to look intimidating.

Too bad you couldn’t care less what this man thought about you. “That’s the plan, Jos.” You smiled, sugary sweet. “Actually on the theme of enjoying victories, a bunch of us are heading out to a karaoke bar tonight. Daniel’s idea, obviously. You in, Verstappen?”

“We’re flying back to Holland tonight.” His father answered for him.

“Niet (No.)” Max stood slightly taller. “Would I have to sing?”

“Most definitely.” You smirked, enjoying the fact that Max’s dad seemed to be getting more frustrated by the second. “But, only after copious amounts of alcohol have been consumed. I’m sure they have plenty of gin for you.”

“I guess I can’t leave Daniel hanging.” Max’s smirk almost matched yours. “I’ll be there.”

“I’ll let him know.” Your smirk softened into a smile. “I’ll text you the details. See you later, Verstappen.” You added, before finally making your way into your room to change. You could hear more muttering in Dutch between the two men you’d left behind in the hallway, but paid it no mind as you changed out of your champagne soaked race suit into some other team branded clothes.

You shot Daniel a text as you’d been braiding your wet hair back, giving him a heads up that Max would be joining you guys tonight. His response was almost immediate.

- I thought you didn’t like the guy. – Danny

- I don’t. – Y/N

- But if anyone deserves to get hammered tonight, he’s up there on the list. – Y/N

- I already know *exactly* what song I’m making the two of you sing together. – Danny

- Fuck off, I’m not singing. – Y/N.

You were smiling as you made your way back out to face the media, telling yourself that it was because you’d just won your third Grand Prix of your rookie season. You didn’t doubt that tonight would be one of the more interesting victory celebrations you’d been a part of. You couldn’t wait.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

GROUPCHAT: Y/L/N Offsprings

Dumb: You’re internet famous, Y/N!

Dumb: *insert link to youtube video of you singing karaoke in a random Japanese bar with Max*

Dumber: Holy fuck that thing has thousands of views.

Jesus Christ I’m going to murder Daniel for posting that. :Y/N

It’s got more views than the elevator video… :Y/N

Dumber: We always knew you were destined for fame.

Dumb: Who needs to win the WDC. Just keep singing off key with all the drivers. That’s the way to do it.

I’m going to block you both. :Y/N

Dumb: It’s the start of something new!

Dumber: It feels so right, to be here with you!

Dumb: And now looking in your eyes

Dumber: I feel in my heart……….

Forget about those Paddock passes to the Austin GP :Y/N

Dumber: Whatever. Dan will sort us out.

I’ll have you banned. :Y/N

Good luck getting through security then. :Y/N

Dumb: Love you too, Gabriella.

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After the race weekend in Japan, you’d made your way over to Canada to spend the off week with your family ahead of the next couple of North American races. Your family had delayed Thanksgiving by a week so that you wouldn’t miss it, and you were even there to celebrate your dad’s birthday. It was nice to have a little break away from it all, knowing that the last couple of races were going to be interesting.

However, you hadn’t been able to get a certain conversation with a Dutch driver out of your head. He’d tracked you down when you’d been ordering another round of drinks at the karaoke bar in Japan, taking you by surprise when he offered you a sincere apology for that run in with his father earlier in the day. You’d easily brushed it off, because you couldn’t give two shits about what Jos Verstappen thought about you. The guy was an ass, and everyone knew it. You also somehow managed to keep your mouth shut about the part of the conversation you’d overheard, knowing that the middle of a karaoke bar in Japan probably wasn’t the best place to hash that out.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when your dad appeared beside you, placing his hand over yours that had aimlessly been stirring your coffee for a while now. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

“Huh? Nothing.” You shrugged it off, grabbing your mug and taking a sip of the slightly sweetened coffee.

The look your dad gave you told you that he clearly wasn’t buying it. “You’ve been quiet all weekend. You love Thanksgiving and seeing all your cousins that you don’t usually get to see.”

You found yourself looking down at your coffee again, because your dad was right. You had been distracted for a good chunk of your visit. You didn’t want to talk about what was really on your mind, so you deflected with a semi-relevant question instead. “Do you think I only got my spot at Red Bull because I’m a woman and they can leverage me to get better sponsorships and brand deals?”

“Is that what you think?” Your dad answered the question with another question.

You shrugged a shoulder, hoping you appeared unbothered, but your dad knew you better than that. “It’s what other people think.”

“I thought you didn’t care what other people thought about you.” You dad slowly said, refilling his own mug of coffee now that you’d stepped away from the coffee machine.

“I don’t, it’s just…” You trailed off, biting at your lip. “That conversation is still happening whether I care about it or not, no matter how many podiums or wins I get.”

“Let’s get one thing straight here, Y/N. You didn’t get those podiums or wins. You earned them. Regardless of what people say, it won’t take away from the fact that you went out there and won Monaco your first time around. It won’t diminish the fact that you’re having the best rookie season in recent years, consistently outscoring your more experienced teammate. It definitely won’t take away from the fact that you’re putting up a fight for the championship when no one ever thought you’d even score so much as a point. Red Bull might’ve signed you initially for the good PR, but you’re easily one of the better drivers that they’d ever signed.”

Your dad’s encouragement brought up some warm and fuzzy feelings inside of you, instantly quelling your doubts. You wished he could come out to more races, because it would be nice to have him around more often to help you block out all that stupid noise. But still, the egotistically part of you couldn’t help but fish for another compliment. “Better than Danny?”

Your dad smirked, but indulged you anyways. “Daniel didn’t win three races his rookie year.” Damn fucking straight. “What brought all of this doubt on? You’re usually far more clear headed.”

“Something I overheard in Japan that I shouldn’t have.” You mumbled, taking a large gulp from your coffee. “Jos Verstappen was quick to blame me for his son’s DNF, and overall lower standing. He thinks Max is letting me win cause I’m a girl.”

“Did you tell him he was full of shit?”

You smirked. “I thought it.”

“Good.” Your dad was smiling again, before that serious look was back on his face. “Jos couldn’t be more wrong. Max is easily the driver who gives you the hardest time on track, if the German GP was anything to go by… I’d even go as far as to say that Max was one of the first to take you seriously.”

Wait… what? “Huh?”

“I keep forgetting that you don’t watch the press things on race weekends” Your dad chuckled to himself. “Ahead of pre-season testing, he was making comments about being unsure about you, but then after he saw what you could do during testing he quickly changed his tune. He’s had your back throughout the season.”

“Max has had my back? Max… Verstappen?” You said his last name slowly, to make sure you were talking about the same person.

“Yes.” Your dad seemed confused by your surprise. “I thought you guys got along? Seemed like it in at the Montreal GP, when he was talking with us in the garage.”

At that point, they had been getting along. It was right after their temporary truce in Monaco. You’d even go as far as to say that he’d been like a friend to you, letting you use his travelling simulator so that you could get out of your head before a race. But then again, everything had changed in Germany and you’d backed off entirely, preferring to ignore him. Then that thing happened in Monaco, and you were now in this weird limbo with your teammate where you didn’t hate him or like him. “It’s… He’s complicated. He wants to win just as much as I do… so we butt heads a lot.”

Your dad laughed at your explanation. “I think it’s safe to say all the drivers on that grid with you want to win. Daniel wants to win just as much as you do, and yet the two of you are still the best of friends through it all.”

“I guess…” You trailed off, feeling a headache coming on. Daniel was different though, because he wasn’t your teammate. He wasn’t your constant line of comparison, like Max. Besides, Daniel wasn’t having the best year with his new team, so you weren’t racing him as much as you would’ve liked to.

 Urg, this was too much thinking for this early in the morning. It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. You just wanted to be able to turn up to the track, get in your car and race. Fuck everything else.

However, you’d been wrong in thinking that this was the end of the conversation. Clearly, your dad wasn’t ready to drop the first heart to heart conversation you’d had in a long time, bringing up something that you rarely every talked about. “You know, your mom would be proud of everything you’ve accomplished this year.” Your gaze snapped up to meet your dad’s, hoping you could silently convey that you didn’t want to talk about it. “I mean, I don’t think she envisioned her baby girl regularly hurtling herself around a race track at over 300kph, but you can bet she would be so fucking proud of you for carving out a space for yourself doing what you love.”

“Fucking hell dad, give a girl a warning before diving into the deep stuff.” You rebuffed, trying to avoid the topic. It was no secret that you didn’t like talking about this. Your mom was a whole other can of worms that you did not have the mental capacity to deal with this morning. Barely anyone outside of your immediate family knew about it. Daniel only knew because you’d met him a few months after it had all happened, when you packed up your Canada life and moved to Australia for a couple of years. “Can we please not do this now?”

Your dad sighed, but nodded. He’d probably seen this coming, because you always responded the same way.

One of these days you may be more willing to talk about it, but that sure as hell wasn’t today.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

You landed in Mexico on Wednesday afternoon, Daniel insisting that he be the one to come pick you up from the airport.

He’d gotten here a day ahead of you, and was clearly experiencing some sort of separation anxiety because this was the longest you’d gone without seeing one another in a while (and it was only 9 days…) Regardless, a wide smile still made its way onto your face as you dragged your suitcases behind you in the arrivals section of the airport, easily spotting the Australian in the sea of people, even though he wore shades and a hat.

He immediately started talking your ear off about what he’d been up to this past week in Los Angeles. Whereas you’d taken the week off to spend time with you family, Daniel had been bouncing from one thing to the next, running from one sponsorship event to the other. You raised your brow when he started talking about initial meetings to launch his own brand of wine, but at the same time that seemed like a very Daniel thing to do. The guy barely new what relaxing was. That’s why you weren’t surprised when you parked up outside a restaurant instead of going straight to the hotel, meeting up with Michael and Blake for dinner. Then again, you wouldn’t change a thing.

Thursday had been rather uneventful, going through your standard media routine. You’d been put in a press conference with Lewis and Max, seeing as the three of you were the only ones still in contention for the championship. It was clear from the beginning that the three of you would rather be doing just about anything else, almost turning the conference into a game of who could answer the question the best without actually providing an answer.

The Friday practice sessions hadn’t been your best, but you chalked it up to this being your first time driving on this track. It was the only track on the calendar this year that you hadn’t raced at before, and it was showing. You were a little bit more cautious than usual, trying to memorize the turns and braking points as quickly as you could and get comfortable with the feel of the track. Others had caught on to your hesitancy, if your P15 and P12 lap ranking at the end of the two sessions was anything to go by.

“Are you feeling alright, Y/N?” Christian was there the second you got out of your car at the end of the second practice session. You’d barely taken off your helmet and balaclava, setting them down on the workbench before turning your attention back to your team principle to answer his question

“I know my lap times were shit.” You got to the point. “It’s a new track for me, I’m still figuring it out. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

Christian nodded, seemingly happy that you were on the same page. “Well then, get some rest and we’ll smash it tomorrow.”

If only it was that easy.

You’d gone straight to your hotel room after leaving the track, ordering some room service that followed your nutrition plan, not in the mood to go down to the restaurant with the rest of the team. Instead, you spend hours reviewing data and mentally running through the track, really trying to engrave it into your brain. And even then, after a couple of hours of review you felt like you hadn’t done anything at all, anxiety about the situation slowly rising.

If only you could take the car out for a spin without the pressure… Oh wait.

A quick glance at the clock was enough to tell you that it was a bad idea, but that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and room key and marching down the hall, stopping in front of what you hoped was the correct room from what you could remember this morning when you’d both been picked up to head to the track. It would’ve probably been a better idea to text him first, but you also didn’t want him to say no. He couldn’t turn you away, face to face… right?

You knocked at the door before you could change your mind, waiting a couple of seconds to hear if there was any movement. After about 30 seconds of silence, you started knocking more incisively. The second round of knocking was met with some muffled Dutch cursing, revealing that he was in fact in his room. The cursing didn’t stop, even as he swung the door open.

The cursing didn’t stop until his eyes landed on your crossed armed figure, a frown making its way onto his face. “Y/N?”

Only now did you realize how stupid this was. But, it was too late to back down. “So, I’m having an existential crisis because I’ve never driven on this stupid track before and I can’t wrap my head around it… My lap times were shit today and I’m kind of freaking out thinking they aren’t going to be any better tomorrow and I fucked up by not going to Milton Keynes last week to practice… And then I remembered that you have that nifty little traveling simulator. Any chance you’d let me run a couple of laps before I actually lose my mind?”

He didn’t say anything, simply pulling the door open further and stepping aside to let you into the room.

You walked in, immediately noticing the messed-up bedsheets, oddly placed pillows and the fact that only the bedside lamp was on. “Fuck, I woke you up. This is stupid, I can go…”

“No, I’m awake now. Sit.” He shrugged, before gesturing to the sim that was tucked into the corner of his room.

“Are you sure?” You questioned, eyeing his haphazardly thrown on sweater and joggers.

He nodded. “Track is already programmed and all. Do what you need to do.”

You shot off a thankful smile, before making your way over to the simulator. You pushed the seat forward slightly in account of your difference in height, powering it up. Then you settled into the leaned back seat, adjusting the settings to your specifications. You got into the zone so quickly that you barely noticed Max standing behind you, silently watching as you dove right into some practice laps.

“Brake later for turn 12, the car will carry you through if you stay on the line.” You hadn’t been expecting him to give you tips, but you weren’t about to ignore them if it would help put your mind at ease. You did as instructed, finding a few tenths being shaved off your latest lap time.

“Any other helpful hints?” You asked, more as a joke.

But to your surprise, Max actually gave you more tips. He showed you a different line through turn 6 that would give you a better launch after the turn and pointed out spots where you could downshift one less gear. You couldn’t quite believe that your biggest competitor was helping you out like this, knowing that his father would be absolutely livid if he ever found out about it. You appreciated it a lot more than you were willing to admit., continuing to practice on the simulator until you felt like you could do it with your eyes closed.

“Feel better now?” Max asked, once you’d topped your lap time for the third time in a row.

“Yeah…” You answered sheepishly as you powered down the simulator and pulled yourself out of the seat, stretching out your shoulders out slightly. You caught sight of the time on the clock next to the bed, eyes growing wide as you realized your performance coach was going to come knocking at your door in less than 6 hours. “Oh my god, it’s almost 2:00 am! Why didn’t you say anything!? We should definitely both be sleeping right now”

Max shrugged, holding back a yawn. “It’s fine, Y/N. Don’t worry about it.”

“I… Thank you for helping me… again.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a half smile. “Does this mean we’re back to being civil?”

You considered his question, unconsciously biting at your lip. You thought about the conversation you’d had with your dad, and how Max was one of the first to respect you on the track even when he had a weird way of showing it. Max didn’t have to be your enemy… You could be civil, at least until it all blew up again. “I guess so… until we inevitably piss each other off again.”

With that, you left your teammates room and fell asleep the moment your head touched your pillow back in your own hotel room.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Your lap times had dramatically improved throughout the final practice session at the track ahead of qualifying. Christian pulled you aside after the session, letting you know that he hadn’t doubted you would come around that morning. You’d even wound up getting pole after qualifying by the slightest of margins, after Max had been given a three place grid penalty for exceeding track limits.

On Sunday, you’d somehow managed to keep your lead through the majority of the race, ensuring that Hamilton couldn’t clinch the title this weekend. He was still only a few points short of winning the whole thing, but it felt nice to be the one to make it that much harder for him. Logically, you knew that there was no way you were going to beat him now, seeing as the only way it would be mathematically possible was for Lewis to DNF the last 3 races and you to win them all, but still. A race win was a race win.

Max on the other hand, hadn’t had the best race. He’d been off to a decent start, only to finish 6th. Still, he’d stuck around with the rest of the team to celebrate your latest win, congratulating you with a knowing smile before you’d gone off to fulfil your media duties. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

You understood from the moment the plane touched down in Texas why Austin was one of Daniel’s favourite race weekends on the calendar. The atmosphere around Austin and at the track was so different from any of the other ones you’d been to this year.

Every night, you had some kind of barbecue dinner booked at some of the best restaurants in town with your friends and family. It was one of the closer Grand Prix’s to Canada, so a good chunk of people you knew from back home were coming to visit over the weekend. The whole couple of days leading to that first practice session were a good time, filled with lots of laughs and stereotypical American moments.

You’d even let Daniel talk you and your family into going to a haunted cornfield maze on Halloween, which had been an interesting experience… You might’ve clung onto your oldest brother and covered your eyes through most of it, because you absolutely hated scary things like that, but you’d survived and laughed it all off afterwards. You had to admit, if you ignored the scary bits, it was the most fun you’d had leading up to a race weekend in a while.

It wasn’t any different on the Thursday, your knee bouncing in place as you knew you were late to meet your family for dinner. You’d gotten held up at the track, filming some extra bits for some social media content with the team. Max had tried talking to you on the way back to the hotel, when he’d noticed your knee bouncing in the seat next to his, but you’d kept your response short. You didn’t like being late and keeping people waiting on you, especially your family that had flown in to spend this time with you.

“There she is!” Your dad spoke up when he spotted you rushing into the hotel lobby, having booked it from the van the moment it had parked in front of the hotel.

“Sorry I’m late!” You rushed the words out. “I just need like, 5 minutes to change out of the team gear and I’ll be ready.”

“Gosh Y/N, so tardy.” Daniel chimed in, glancing up from his phone where he was waiting around with your family, knowing that it would get on your nerves.

“It’s not entirely her fault.” Max surprised everyone by speaking up. He’d come inside at the same time, obviously. “We got held up by the social media team. They sprung another one of those dumb ‘on the couch’ videos on us.”

Daniel let out a pained groan, recalling having to film those throughout his time with Red Bull. Forced questions about the season so far and what the drivers thought about it. They usually took a while to film because they’d get severely off topic or make too many dumb jokes throughout filming. You didn’t envy your media director’s role, trying to keep you and Max on topic as you continuously complained about the weirdly cold weather or wanting to be doing just about anything else.

“In that case, you probably haven’t eaten yet either. Why don’t you join us for dinner, Max?”

You gaze shot over to your dad’s, completely missing the way that Max’s gaze widened like a deer caught in headlights. “Dad, I’m sure Max already has his own plans.”

Your dad shrugged in a way that implied he was trying to be nice to your teammate, before his gaze returned to Max as he waited for the Dutch driver to respond. “Uh, well… I was just going to order some room service.” Max mumbled, eyes flickering over to yours making it clear that he didn’t want to intrude. You nodded along to Max’s words, hoping that your dad understood that this was completely unnecessary.

He didn’t.

“Well then, that settles it.” Your dad exclaimed, looking rather proud of himself and leaving absolutely no room for argument. “You two go on and get changed, and we’ll get this show on the road.”

You turned, shaking your head in disbelief at your dad as you walked off towards the elevator, continuing to ignore your brothers’ comments about hurrying up. You were aware that Max had silently followed you, the pair of you stepping into the elevator together and heading off to the same floor. It wasn’t until the doors closed in front of the two of you that you turned your attention towards the Dutch driver.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” You offered him an out, figuring that this was probably not what he wanted to do with the last of his free time before the weekend ramped up tomorrow.

But to your surprise, Max simply shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He paused, uncertainty crossing his face. “Well, unless you don’t want me to come. I know you don’t get to see your family as much as you’d like…”

You could already picture the look of disappointment on your dad’s face if you managed to scare Max out of coming to dinner with your family tonight. You didn’t really mind, because you’d had dinner with Max and the team plenty of times throughout the year, not to mention the many dinners with other drivers. It wouldn’t really be that different, would it? Besides, you were being civil right now, so there was no reason to be this hesitant towards your teammate joining in on your family dinner.

“My dad would kill me if I scared you out of coming…” You eventually mumbled, trying to diffuse the weird tension that you suddenly noticed in the elevator. “And Daniel’s been raving about this steakhouse for weeks. I’m sure it would beat the room service here by a long shot.”

Max’s chuckle lightened the tension significantly. “You’re not wrong.”

You let out a breath as the elevator doors finally opened on your floor, sparring half a glance at Max to tell him that you’d meet him back in front of the elevator in a few minutes before taking a right turn towards your room.

You got ready for dinner in record time. It helped that today had mostly been a media day, so your hair was still in relatively good shape unlike when you raced. You brushed through it, content with the way that it had held up through the day. You quickly touched up your makeup, before rushing to your suitcase to change into a more dinner appropriate outfit that consisted of a forest green silky tank top tucked into a pair of black high wasted skinny jeans. You dug a pair of basic black heeled sandals out of your suitcase, buckling them around your ankles. You shrugged into your trusty leather jacket, shoving your phone and room key into your pocket before hastily making your way back out of your hotel room.

All of that in under five minutes.

“You weren’t kidding.” Max commented, when he spotted you rounding the corner to the elevator.

You took in his simple light blue button up that really brought out just how blue his eyes were and dark jeans that fit perfectly, and the grey jacket he wore on top. Not to mention the lack of flat ballcap on his head, you’d almost say he looked… handsome. What?

You shook that thought out of your head, responding to Max’s comment with a smirk as you pressed the button to call the elevator once again. “I grew up with two older brothers. I had to learn to be quick if I didn’t want to get left behind. And as you’ve probably figured out, I hate being late and making people wait.”

Max nodded, because he’d picked up on this months ago. You were never late if you could help it. Nothing else was said as you both stepped into the elevator.

You all took off the moment you rejoined your family in the lobby, everyone getting into a van that had been hired for the evening. You sandwiched yourself between Daniel and your dad in the very back, Max sitting with your brothers in the middle row. Your dad kept the conversation flowing throughout the car journey, asking you about your day and what you’d been up to. You answered each of his questions patiently, jabbing your elbow into Daniel’s ribs when he started telling an embarrassing story on your behalf from your recent time in Tokyo.

Your obviously eavesdropping brothers did not need any more ammunition to use against you.

When you got to the over-the-top western themed steakhouse in the middle of Austin, you weren’t that surprised to see photographers outside waiting to snap pictures of the three Formula 1 drivers who were heading inside for dinner. Formula 1 was growing in the states, thanks to that Netflix series that had premiered at the beginning of the season. You paid the cameras no mind, weirdly already used to having them around whenever you did these types of things on race weekends. You’d learned to be aware of when they were around, yet ignore them at the same time. Even though you didn’t feel like it, there was no denying that as a driver, you were a public figure.

“That’s still so weird.” Your oldest brother mumbled, once everyone was safely inside the restaurant.

You, Daniel and Max shared an unbothered look, because this was your life. “I guess it’s what happens when you race every other week with the 19 other best drivers in the world. They don’t call it a travelling circus for nothing…” You said nonchalantly to your brother, as Daniel made his way over to the host so you could all be seated.

You were led to this big round booth towards the back of the restaurant, out of sight from most of the other patrons. You slid in first towards the back of the rounded booth, surprised by the fact that Max wound up sitting next to you, sandwiched in by your brothers on one side and your dad and Daniel on the other.

You didn’t pay much attention to the conversation happening around you, still a little weirded out by this entire situation, choosing instead to focus on the menu in front of you even though you already knew what you were going to order.

“What’s up with you?” Daniel asked quietly, leaning in towards you to talk. He’d clearly noticed that you were in your head.

“Nothing.” You mumbled, still putting all your focus on reading the menu.

You didn’t have to look up to know that Daniel had rolled his eyes at you. “You’re getting the New York strip with the house salad. You get the same thing every time. Stop eyeing the menu like it’s written in gibberish.”

Before you could come back with a smart retort, he snatched the menu out of your hand. “Hey! Maybe I wanted to try something new.” You pouted at him, even though that wasn’t true.

He only raised a brow, waiting for you to tell him what he wanted to hear.

You looked over to Max, who was laughing and joking along to whatever your brothers were saying and paying you no mind. So, you let out a long breath and quietly answered the question, telling him one of the things that was on your mind. “I’m just thinking about the race. Most of my media questions today were people asking me if they thought I could get a third win in a row… like it’s impossible. They were also asking why I’m even bothering, considering how likely it is that Lewis is going to with the WDC this weekend considering her only needs like, 4 points to seal the deal… I just want a good outcome while everyone is here.”

Daniel never got the chance to say much more about that because your dad gathered everyone’s attention so that he could take a group photo, asking everyone to squish together even more. You shuffled slightly closer to Daniel, only tensing for a split second when Max pushed himself closer to you on your other side. But, that split second was enough for a lightbulb to go off in Daniel’s head, your best friend now eyeing you with that stupid shit eating grin plastered onto his face.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You muttered lowly towards Daniel, making it clear that you didn’t want to talk about any of this anymore.

Thankfully, he backed off as your dad’s phone flashed, momentarily blinding everyone at the table again as he took the photo. The phone flashed a handful more times, your dad making comments asking everyone to at least try to look like they were enjoying themselves, earning some chuckles and more genuine smiles from around the table.

The waitress came to take the orders around the table, pouring everyone some generous glasses of red wine at the same time. Ryan knew that she should take it easy, but the first glass went down way too easily for her to care. So did the second.

Her third glass was finished as the mains came out, the waitress happily topping up her glass.

“You know Horner’s going to be mad if you show up hungover tomorrow.” Max warned quietly, so that no one else would hear.

“I’m fine.” You didn’t hesitate to roll your eyes at the Dutch driver. You could’ve sworn he’d sighed, almost like he was disappointed by your response, but also convinced yourself that it was only the wine getting to your head on a nearly empty stomach. You really should’ve calmed down with the wine…

“You keep saying that.”

“Well, that’s cause I am fine.” You said, cutting up a piece of your steak and stuffing it into your mouth.

“You never drink the night before you get in the car.”

“That’s not true.” You hummed, even though it mostly was true. There were a few exceptions to that rule, but you usually didn’t want to risk feeling like garbage when you were in the car. You’d gone to plenty of team dinners on Thursday and passed on the drinks being served. Why was tonight so different? “Why are you and Danny so convinced that something’s up?”

Max’s brow raised in surprise, seemingly surprised that Daniel had been concerned as well. “We’re being civil. Aren’t I allowed to be worried about my teammate when something’s up with them?”

“No.” You deadpanned, finding it weird that Max was implying that… he sort of cared about your wellbeing. “Nothing’s up, so there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Right.” Max didn’t believe her. “Is it the track? You can use the SIM later if you want.”

 “It’s not the track, I’ve been racing here since I was a teen.” You sighed, taking another large swing of your wine. You would later blame the wine for the honest words that followed. “Maybe I’m just itching to get back in the car and get this race over with so Lewis can officially have his crown and people can stop hounding me with stupid questions.”

Max took a moment to consider your revelation, each of you eating another couple of bites from your meals. You soon decided that as good as the steak was, you weren’t all that hungry, moving pieces of your salad back and forth on the plate. Max noticed this as well, silently gesturing for you to continue eating. “I thought that Viper didn’t give a shit about what the media said about them?”

 “I don’t.” You quickly agreed. “But it doesn’t change the fact that those questions are annoying. They don’t ask you that.”

“I’ve never won two in a row so they’ve never been able to ask me that question.” Max stated bluntly with a shrug.

You mouth snapped shut at that, realizing just how crazy this was all sounding. You had been annoyed this entire evening, because a question about the possibility of you winning a third race in a row had been brought up, amongst other things. But, you’d won the last two. You’d won four Grand Prix’s in your rookie season, and had given the 5 time reigning world champion a run for his money. You’d known long before you’d ever started racing in Formula 1 that people were going to talk shit about you whether you were successful or not.

“Give them a reason to ask about a 4th.” Max added, that shit disturbing grin etched onto his face.

“I’ll fucking drink to that.” You hummed, raising your wine glass up to meet his, feeling a whole lot better now that none other than Max Verstappen had managed to get you to pull your head out of your ass.

The rest of the evening was a whole lot more fun for you, finding yourself finally letting go of the stresses of the day and enjoying the limited time that you got to spend with you family. And, as the night went on, you stopped thinking of Max’s presence as slightly strange, finding that the Dutch driver fit in rather seamlessly with your little crew of people.

Instead of questioning it, you enjoyed the moment.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

You were all smiles as you walked through the paddock on Friday morning, despite the pesky not-so-little hangover that was the result of far too much wine consumed over dinner the night before. You weren’t going to announce to the whole world that you’d had a bit too much to drink the night before. You’d walked in with your dad, your brothers opting to sleep through the first practice session as they’d carried on drinking long after you’d called it a night. He’d stuck around in the garage, much like the last Grand Prix he’d attended in Montreal, chatting with anyone and everyone.

Max had been rather amused when you showed up to your briefing with your suit half done up and sunglasses still resting over your eyes, the ‘I told you so’ look clear as day on his own face. Still, you absorbed every word spoken by the engineers and strategist, determined not to let this affect your performance.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t. The second you slipped into your car for that first practice session, adrenaline took over and your hangover faded into a thing of the past. You put down some solid times, keeping your lap time ever so slightly ahead of Hamilton’s throughout the entire session. You’d never know how much wine had been consumed. That being said, you called it a night significantly earlier than the night before in anticipation for qualifying.

Then on Saturday, qualifying turned out fine. You got caught in some traffic during you last flying lap which ruined the lap. You had to settle for a P5 start tomorrow, knowing that you could’ve pushed onto the front row. Still, you didn’t find yourself too bothered by it. You knew logically that you weren’t winning the championship, so you felt like this weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you were free to just enjoy the last three races of the season, results be damned.

You were feeling pretty good.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

That good feeling disappeared before the race on Sunday.

You’d been cornered by a reporter in the paddock as you’d been walking alone to your garage after a fan event you’d popped into for Red Bull. You plastered a fake smile onto your face, answering a couple of questions about your expectations for the day. You thought that would be it, but the reporter had a different idea.

“We’ve seen some of your family in the paddock, supporting you this weekend. How’s it been, having them around?”

“It always makes the weekend that little bit extra special when your people are there to support you.” You kept the answer short, hoping they’d leave it alone. They did not.

“We couldn’t help but notice that your father and brothers have been the only ones in the paddock. Is it safe to assume your mother doesn’t support your career choice?”

You fully stopped walking, smile falling from your face as you wondered how in the hell the reporter had gotten the nerve to ask that very out of line question. “Pardon me?”

“Well, we’ve never seen her in the paddock.”

Do not freak out. Do not snap. You’re on camera. Compartmentalize, deal with it after. It’s not their fault, they didn’t know. You’d been very careful in the past when talking about your family to avoid this ever coming up. It wasn’t something you liked to talk about, with anyone, much less with the media. You couldn’t help your dry tone as you glared at the reporter across from you. “Considering that my mother’s been dead for almost twenty years, it would be quite the surprise to see her in the paddock.”

At least they had the decency to look like they’d fucked up, gaping at you like a fish out of water. “Y/N, I’m sorry. We didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well…” You sighed, head spinning as you ran a hand through your hair. You wanted to avoid this becoming a big deal, so you decided to try and talk the reporter out of using the last little bit of footage. “Can we… forget about this? It doesn’t have anything to do with the race, and family’s on my list on no-go topics.”

“I- Of course… Good luck with your race.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, taking off towards your garage again.

You didn’t acknowledge anyone, heading right through the garage and out the back towards the motorhome. You fully ignored your brothers who were sat having lunch, breezing past everyone and up the stairs towards your drivers room. You kicked out your shocked performance coach who’d been working on their laptop in the private room, locking the door the minute they’d closed it behind them and shutting off the lights.

Now that you were totally alone, you caved in on yourself, completely losing control.

All at once, it was like you couldn’t breathe, your body suddenly spiked in temperature, and you became so disoriented you forgot where you were. Your ears started ringing as you struggled to draw in a full breath. You paced blindly around your too small driver’s room, desperately trying to stop this from happening but knowing that it was entirely out of your control. You were stuck, confined, and tumbling headfirst into a dizzying panic attack.

It felt like the walls were closing in around you as the temperature continued to rise. Your balance disappeared and you stumbled into one of the walls, bumping your shoulder rather painfully but at the same time not hard enough to snap you out of it. You slid down the wall rather pathetically, trying and failing to gasp in enough oxygen to stop your vision from blurring. You dug your nails into your palms hard enough to draw blood, but you couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t string together enough though to run through your usual panic squashing tricks, forced to suffer through it.

You tried so hard to pull yourself back up onto your feet but you physically couldn’t do it. You’d pulled at some temporary shelving, only to have it come crashing down around you too. There was nothing you could do. The edges of your vision were starting to go dark, head pounding. The longer you couldn’t breathe, the more you became sure that you were going to die like this. Pathetic and alone, too weak to handle a stupid question. Spiralling out of control.

You were so out of it that you never heard someone knocking at your driver room door. It’s not like you could’ve moved to answer it anyways, you brain not really registering anything at the moment, too busy fucking you over. You could’ve been curled up on the floor for minutes or hours, there was no way to tell the difference.

You were in fucking hell.

And just when you thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, they did.

The door to your room was carefully pushed open, light from the hallway pouring in and making it so that you could only just make out the silhouette of the person who clearly didn’t understand that you wanted to be alone right now. You didn’t move as whoever it was gently shut the door behind them, locking it once again.

It wasn’t until you managed to focus on those familiar blue eyes that you realized just how shit this situation was. Your teammate was sitting on his heels in front of you, concern etched into those piercing blue eyes, making you feel about a million times worse.  

You wanted to yell at him to get the fuck out of here, because you couldn’t think of anything worse than your teammate, and most direct competitor, seeing you like this. But, you still couldn’t really breathe, let alone form any coherent sentences. Hell, you could see his mouth moving but you couldn’t hear anything he was trying to say because of the persistent ringing in your ears. Your stomach sank as the worry on Max’s face only grew, when he realized that you weren’t registering anything he was saying.  

He pulled you up so that you were sitting with you back against the wall, no longer in a crumpled heap on the ground. Then sitting back on his heels, he grabbed one of your hands, turning it so that your palm was facing upwards, exposing the little bloody crescent marks that your nails had dug into your palm. You instinctively tried to pull your hand back and hide the marks, but Max wouldn’t let you, his grasp on your hand firm yet gentle at the same time.

With his other hand, he pinched the tip of your thumb between his fingers, before moving on and doing the same thing to your index, middle, ring and pinky fingers, then slowly started working his way back. At first, you couldn’t feel it, but then at some point you locked in to the steady rhythm of him applying pressure to your fingers. “…. three, four. Out, two, three, four. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Come on, Y/N.”

He was trying to help you breathe.

He pinched your thumb and you sucked in a shaky breath, somehow managing to count along with him as he pressed your index, middle then ring finger. You released the breath when he pressed your pinky, eyes following his hand as he pressed backwards towards your thumb.

You don’t know how long you were sat there, gaze tracking Max’s hand as he continued to run back and forth pinching your fingers. You weren’t sure at which point your mind cleared enough and the panic subsided enough not to leave you feeling void. You didn’t know when your ears stopped ringing, or your body stopped shaking. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Max didn’t stop until you tentatively lifted your eyes to meet his gaze.

You didn’t know what to say to him, as you started to come back to your senses. He’d just seen you at your lowest… you didn’t know what to do about that, so you automatically started to slowly rebuild your walls.

“Don’t do that, heerlijk.” His voice was so quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just been occurring.

“Do what?” You croaked out, voice hoarse. You knew exactly what he was talking about but chose to be ignorant.

“Hide behind your walls.”

“I don’t have a choice…” You let out another long shaky breath, but didn’t flinch away from the eye contact. In fact, you carried on, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “If the people outside this room have any idea what just happened here, I’m as good as done in this sport. They’ll assume they were right, and that I cracked under the pressure.”

The corners of Max’s lips slowly turned downwards. “What happened here?”

You’d cracked, but you weren’t about to say that out loud. But for some reason, even though you were well aware that Max was the last person you should be opening up to, you found yourself being semi-honest. “A reporter cornered me when I was walking back from the Paddock Club. Asked me some questions they shouldn’t have and well… here we are.”

“Questions about…”

Your heart rate spiked slightly just thinking about it. “Stuff on my blacklist of questions that would never get published. Childhood trauma, that sort of thing.” You muttered bitterly.

To your surprise, Max just nodded, not pushing you any further for more details. Instead he pushed himself back up onto his feet, walking around your fallen shelving to grab whatever he was looking for. He was back a few second later, with a bright red first aid kit in his hands.

Neither of you spoke as he opened the kit and pulled out some bandages and disinfecting wipes. Max grabbed one of your hands, turning your palm upwards again, dabbing at the small cuts with one of the wipes and cleaning it up. Your right had was worse than the left, three of your nails having broken the skin compared to one on your left hand. He covered each of the cuts with the smallest plasters in the box, knowing that anything bigger would draw other people’s attention. If you were careful, you could hide this.

“Why do you keep helping me?”

You hadn’t even realized you’d broken the silence until Max brought his surprised gaze back up to you. “Contrary to what everyone thinks about me, I’m not always an asshole.”

You could’ve done him the same curtesy he’d just done you and left it alone, but you didn’t. “That’s not what I meant. I mean… like in Mexico when you let me use your simulator until a ridiculous hour and in Monaco when you noticed what that guy did and stopped things from getting out of hand… and Japan.”

“Japan?” Max asked quickly, gaze widening slightly.

Fuck, you’d just put your foot in your mouth. Max didn’t know that you’d overheard more than you were meant to with his father. “Outside our driver’s rooms after the race… I accidentally heard more than I let on… You had my back.” You explained, noticing his cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. “You’ve had my back for a while now… Why?”

“Well, we did agree to be civil…” It was a weak deflection and he knew it, releasing a sigh when you arched your brow in his direction. You could see in the way that he bit down on the corner of his lip that he was debating whether he should say what was on his mind. Even though it was still pretty dark in the room, you could still clearly see just how conflicted your teammate was. You fell into a silent staring contest, just waiting for Max to decide that he trusted you enough to reveal what was going on inside his head lately.

You both startled when sharp knock sounded at your door. “Y/N, five minutes till you have to be on the grid for the Driver’s parade.” It was your performance coach, letting you know that no matter what was going on inside the room they couldn’t afford to fall behind schedule.

Max snapped back into action, taking your left hand in his to clean out that last little cut.

“Thank you.” You murmured quietly as he placed the last bandage on your left hand.

Max nodded once, pulling himself back up onto his feet. He held out a hand for you, carefully pulling you up as well. “Are you okay to race today?”

“I have to be.” Missing the race wasn’t an option. Not without answering questions and disappointing too many people. Missing the race had never been one of the thoughts running through your mind.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

You shrugged, trying to play off how much you were still affected by the panic attack you’d just experienced. The real answer was probably not, because of how much focus was required to drive a Formula 1 car alongside 19 others without making any mistakes or causing an accident. But at the same time, you knew that once you got back into the race day routine, instinct would take over and see you through. So that’s what you told Max. “Once I’m in the car, I’ll be fine.”

Knowing that you were running out of time, you made your way over to your bag to grab a pair of sunglasses so you’d be able to hide your bloodshot and puffy eyes. You also ran a brush through your hair, making yourself look a little bit more put together as you put your Red Bull cap back on your head. You plastered a fake smile on your face, wiggling your brow at Max.

“Do I pass the test of not looking like I just had a breakdown?”

“To everyone else, probably.”

It gave you a weird feeling in your chest to know that this probably wouldn’t have fooled Max if he hadn’t seen you until now.

Regardless, you kept that fake smile on your face as you nodded to his confirmation, before leading him out the room. You completely ignored the way your performance coach’s eyes widened when he saw you and Max walk out of your darkened room together, already making your way through the motorhome to get to the grid. Before you knew it, you were standing on the back of a tracker with the rest of the drivers, making sure to wave to the fans with your less injured hand, your smile slowly morphing into a more genuine one when you saw the amount of support in the crowd for you.

It didn’t even bother you that Max stayed within a few steps of you, chatting mindlessly to the other drivers while silently keeping an eye on you.

The more time went on, the better you felt.

You yourself were almost convinced that you were totally fine as you slid into your car before the race start.

The adrenaline was almost enough to make you forget.

But not quite.

As the lights went out, you found yourself thinking about things you’d long since sworn off. The panic returned, and you lost yourself again. You weren’t aware that you’d veered off the track until it was too late.

Maybe you shouldn’t have raced today…

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

“Which Red Bull was that?!” Daniel asked, having caught every horrific detail of the rollover accident that occurred right in front of him. He didn’t want to see either of the Red Bulls crash, but his gut instantly sunk the millisecond he first saw the car veering off track after contact with a Mercedes. The car had gotten absolutely mangled; from the brief glimpse he’d gotten of it. Deep down he knew who it was, before his engineer confirmed it.

“Y/L/N.” He stated grimly.

Fuck.

If not for the skills he’d honed that had since become second nature to him, he would’ve sent his own car into the wall. He couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, in the same way…. No, he needed to focus. “Is she okay?”

“We’re listening on the radio but no word yet.”

Daniel let out an unfiltered string of expletives at that. “Just… keep me posted.”

No sooner than he’d gotten those words out, his engineer was quick to let him know that the race had been red flagged. There was debris everywhere on the track and the extraction would be… complex. The minute it took to get back to the pit lane felt like the longest he’d ever experienced, the silence dragging on as he waited for an update.

As soon as he parked the car in the pitlane, he was rushing off to find her family. He completely ignored his mechanics and engineers, because none of that mattered right now. He needed to know that you were okay.

“Any word?” He asked the minute he walked up to the trio comprised of her devastated looking father and extremely anxious brothers.

Her dad shook his head. “Nothing yet.”

He wasted no time, ripping one of the spare Red Bull headsets off the wall and popping it on so he could hear the radio feed for himself, listening to the heartbreaking sound of her engineer asking for anything to let them know she was alive. He didn’t flinch when Max wandered over as well, looking paler than he’d ever seen him.

Fuck, he didn’t know if he could do this again. He couldn’t lose another best friend to this fucking sport. Not the person who’d basically become a second sister to him, the fiery kid that he’d grown up with.

Fuck this fucking bullshit.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Read Part 4 here!

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Anything V (König x Reader)

The 5th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist 

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Like the characters? 

Sunshine Masterlist  || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: Ya’ll are in for a treat with this series. I just figured out the plot like 10 minutes ago hahaha

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension 

Warning: Graphic Language 

You glared at the woman before you, fury simmering beneath your skin. You felt like you were on fire, you felt like you could commit heinous crimes- you knew that you could kill them.

“I understand that you may feel like this isn’t needed,” the stupid fuck soothed. “But therapy is a proven solution. I can help get you back up and running.” 

Therapy. 

Your fingers dug into the armrests.

“They told me this was training.” You were chewing on the words, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Deep down you’d known that this was coming, you’d declined ‘help’ after the initial incident but now there was no hiding the darkness that plagued your mind. Everyone had seen it. 

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