He's A Genius ('cause He Loves A Woman Like Her) (social Media Au) - Lh44

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: 😆😆

Anything IV (König x Reader)

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

Requested by: Literally fucking everyone.

A/N: WHY WAS THIS SO HARD TO WRITE???

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic language

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

You were exhausted. 

Sleeping was a luxury that you couldn't afford, not that you hadn't been trying. You weren't fond of the night terrors that came to visit whenever you closed your eyes. They were the worst part of it all, you thought. 

It was early, too early for training but, nonetheless, you slowly crawled from your bed. It didn't take long to get ready but it did take time to pull yourself from the mirror. 

You couldn't stop staring at the reflection. Saying that it was you staring back seemed far-fetched in all honesty- the creature you observed was unrecognizable. You considered some makeup to cover the bruising, but there was nowhere to hide the ragged divots in your face, dragged through by your own nails. 

You couldn't hide a swollen nose, puffy eyes and a busted mouth. Your jaw was ballooned, and although the stitches were finally out from your face- the scars remained. You decided that no amount of money could hide your ugliness. Everyone knew what you looked like, everyone knew how fucking disgusting you were. It was almost more embarrassing to try and hide it, than to embrace it and pretend that you didn't care. 

But you did. You cared too much. 

You threw on some sweatpants and a hoodie, your training gear hidden beneath. You needed coffee- you needed something. Anything to get your blood moving in your body and force some adrenaline through your system.

You were so early.

You didn't want to go. 

You'd been attempting to train with König for a couple of weeks now, never engaging in conversation and never looking him in the eye. Ghost had volunteered himself to chaperone your sessions and since then you'd been able to work more comfortably, though you knew it was selfish. 

It was nobody's job to have to babysit you. This was an elite fucking task force, the best of the best and you had to be nursed back into health by one of the most renowned soldiers in the British Special Forces. It was embarrassing for everyone, to say the least. You felt disgusting, you felt pathetic- though, you supposed that's exactly what you were. 

Fucking pathetic. 

You'd expected the gym to be dark, the lights off and abandoned at this early hour. Especially on a Saturday, there was no one at work. Those who lived on base  would usually leave the night before to go drinking or camping, crawling back in shame on the Sunday afternoon. Ghost would be around but this early in the morning you knew he'd be out on his motorcycle, waiting for the sunrise to light up the highway. 

Upon further inspection, you realized that the door was open. The blinds were still down but the light was on, illuminating the hallway you stood in. There was a low hum from inside, melodic and seamless. You raised a brow as you approached, peering into the doorway. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of König. 

The beast was leaned over, singing a wordless tune that you didn't recognise, voice as smooth as silk. He was laying out the foam mats, running his fingers over the raised surface until it was completely flat. Finally, the sniper stood straight to observe his handiwork with a nod. 

He was larger than life when he stretched his arms over his head, groaning at the movement. Some part of you, deep down, was in awe of his sheer size. The other, more dominant, part of you reminded you that he'd been too big for you to stop. 

You were frozen in place, unable to move and unable to take a breath in fear that he'd hear you. König's senses were sharp and the slightest noise would tip him off to your gawking. 

When he sat down on the bench with a solemn sigh, your blood began to simmer beneath your skin. 

"Did you want to come in, Birdy?" König's voice was gentle but you still jumped at the sound of it. A gasp slipped from your lips at the exposure and he tilted his head at the noise, leaning his elbows against his knees. 

Your mouth dried. How did he know that you were there? You hadn't made a sound. 

"Not particularly," you cleared your throat, as he pulled the balaclava from over his head. Dark hair spilled from beneath the fabric, messy and thick. He never kept a mask on when you were around, regardless of whether it was a balaclava or that damned hood. 

"I thought we were past this," he sighed, putting the mask down by his side. He never turned to face you, giving you the option to leave without the pressure of his gaze. 

I thought we were past this. 

Heat flushed through your system like a volcanic eruption, originating in your chest and shooting across your nerves. 

"Past you ruining my life?" You offered as calmly as you could manage. "No. No, I'm actually not past it."

"I meant," König corrected firmly, turning around to face you with narrowed eyes, "are we not past this." 

While he didn't say anything different, the meaningful stare told you enough. 

Are we not past you coming inside every time, even though you say that you won't? 

You stared at him for a long moment, that emerald gaze unwavering. It was nothing like what you'd seen that night, he was a completely different person. You wondered when he would snap, you wondered when you would snap. 

You saw hints of the man you'd encountered sometimes during sparring, never with you but occasionally with Simon. He targeted König, always making a point to put him on his ass but a part of you wonders if the soldier was letting him do it. It was almost too easy sometimes, as though the man had just given up halfway through. 

You stepped through the doorway tentatively, eyes never leaving König's. He held his body so still that you wondered if he was breathing, reminding you of the way a snake freezes before it strikes. 

You moved to the other side of the mats, sitting down on the bench opposite your partner. 

"I figured you'd be up," König rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders relaxing the second you took a seat. "I got you a coffee." 

You blinked at him. 

"What?" 

"I got you a coffee?" The words were uncertain now as he leaned back slightly. He gestured towards the cup tray beside him, two drinks in foam cups steaming at his side. 

You couldn't force a response from your lips- you couldn't do anything, really, other than gawk at him. Why he'd gone out of his way to get you a coffee was beyond you, obviously he was guilty but you'd made it clear you wanted none of his pity. 

"Don't overthink it, Birdy," König raised a brow. "It's a coffee. Just take it." 

"Yeah," you rasped. "Yeah."

But you didn't move. 

Your limbs felt like they'd been filled with lead, your heart beating against your ribs violently. Grabbing the coffee shouldn't have been an issue, getting up is not difficult, so why were you not responding to mental commands? You felt helpless, the realization that your mind and body were no longer yours to control- rather you were ruled by fear that you couldn't grasp. 

You clenched your jaw tightly.

Move, Birdy. 

The Austrian tightened his lips awkwardly, fingers running through his hair like an anxiety tic. The both of you sat in uncomfortable silence before finally he reached for the cup, standing to his feet. 

You remained deathly still as he approached, stopping a safe distance away before he stretched his hand out. The semblance to extending an olive branch was too obvious not to take note, although you'd be the first to snap any branches this man offered. 

But this wasn't some stupid peace twig. This was coffee. König had bought you a drink. You just needed to take it, you needed to move. 

Move, Birdy. 

"It's just a coffee," the man offered you a weak smile but you could see the apprehension in his gaze. He was wondering if you were going to break, every fiber of his being preparing to restrain you if you had another episode. 

If you had another psychotic break over a fucking cup of coffee, you'd be out of the 141 for good. 

Move, Birdy. 

It's just coffee. 

"It's just a coffee," you whispered. 

Your fingers wrapped around the cup, the heat jarring from your thoughts. König let loose a shaky sigh that you knew you weren't meant to hear. You'd become so unstable that even the man who had destroyed you was afraid. 

Your skin brushed against his as you forced yourself to tighten your grip, the brief touch electrifying and jarring. 

He snatched his hand away as though you'd burnt him with the contact. It wasn't like you'd never touched beyond the incident, you sparred with him nearly every day. But that was sparring, this was not. 

König took a seat, his gaze averted and his nails digging into the bench. You took the first sip, eyes never leaving his form. 

Just a coffee, Birdy. 

You took another swig,  reminding yourself to taste the drink. You thought of the texture, the temperature, the flavor- anything to ground you from your thoughts and drag you back to reality. When your mind began to settle and you could finally register the taste, your eyes widened. 

It was exactly your order. 

You almost choked.  

Before you could ask anything of it, the soldier returned his attention to rest on you, briefly taking in your visage. He was still concerned, the twist of his mouth clearly apprehensive. 

"We've never really spoken about what happened," König rasped, the vulnerable tremor in his voice ringing clear. 

Your spine straightened and the cup creaked beneath your grip. 

"Because I don't want to talk about what happened."

"You can't avoid it forever, Birdy," the man bit, sharp and surprising. You leaned away from him, taken aback by the frustration woven through his tone. He always made an effort to be calm and speak in dulcet tones, going against his nature to appear disarming  wherever he could help it. 

The smouldering coals in his gaze reminded you that König was neither soft nor gentle.

"No," you snapped, "but I can avoid talking about it with you."

König grit his teeth. 

"Who else was there, Birdy?" He hissed, leaning his elbows onto his knees. The question was rhetorical but you almost felt compelled to answer him.  Those jade  eyes flashed with a bitterness that you couldn't understand, intense and pleading. "It was me and you and no one else."

"What do you want me to say, König?" You spat, standing to your feet. Rage blistered through your being, buzzing beneath your skin and electrifying your nerves. You wanted to throttle him, you wanted to grab him and shake him until it finally shut him up. 

"I want you to just listen to me," the soldier implored, moving to stand but thinking better of it. You saw his hesitation, the understanding that once he stood up it wouldn't be a conversation it would be intimidation. 

Shut up. 

"I don't want to hear a word from your fucking mouth," you growled, pointing an accusatory finger at his frozen silhouette. "Unless it's to get me back on the job that you stole, I don't want to hear a thing from you."

Just shut up. 

"I'm trying to fucking apologise, Birdy!" 

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. 

"Just shut up!"  Your voice had escalated into a barely legible scream, storming towards the seated beast. You pushed through the barriers of his personal space, but König stayed solid, his eyes hard and his mouth set. 

You were toe to toe, nose to nose and eye to eye. 

Your mouth twisted into a sneer. 

"You think you can buy me coffee and that's it, we're friends?" Your voice was low, and your fingers dug into the thighs that you stood between. His cheek twinged at your grip but other than that, the mountain of a man made no move to budge. He observed you from beneath his lashes, his eyes as hard as stone and you wondered if he was breathing. 

"No," König replied simply, his words tracing your lips. "What I do think is that we need to get past this, one way or another." 

You glared at him, your fingers trembling against his legs. 

"I'll get past this, the day I can look in the mirror and get past the mutilated thing staring back at me." 

"I'm sorry-" he began but you grit your teeth, leaping to interrupt those goddamned words from leaving his stupid mouth. 

"I don't want-"

König's hands suddenly landed above your own, holding them tightly as a growl tore from his throat.

"Listen to me." 

You fell silent immediately. 

Emerald eyes searched your own, imploring you to just hear him, even if it was for a moment. If you were going to ignore everything he said, he wouldn't care because at least he got them out. At least he knows that you've heard them. 

"I'm so, so sorry for what I did to you, Birdy." König murmurs, swaying forward and taking up precious inches in the space between you both. His eyes were soft, vulnerable as he bared himself. "As far as I knew, you were an enemy sniper and I was trying to protect my family. I know that you understand that, Birdy, because the 141  is your family." 

You stared at him, furious with the tears burning your eyes, embarrassed by your emotionally fragile state. 

"I know that you don't want to forgive me, I don't expect you to. It's okay to be angry but you have to help me fix this. For both of our sakes, Bird, let me fix this." The words were whispered by the end of it, searching your features with hopeful eyes. 

"I don't trust you," you wanted to shout at him but the sentence was venomless on your tongue. König's lip quirked upward, his shoulders pulling into a small shrug. 

"You trust me enough."

"I don't trust you at all." 

There was venom in that and the soldier's features became solemn once more. You were not his friend, you did not forgive him and you would not be tricked into believing that this was something worth just getting over. 

"You trust me enough." König repeated himself, raking over your silhouette from head to toe meaningfully.

Suddenly, you realized where you stood. 

Wedged between his thighs, your fingers gripping his legs and his hands covering yours. You flinched backward, eyes flickering at your proximity. You could taste his sentences on your tongue, so close you noses would brush if you had moved an inch. 

You had allowed yourself to be in a room alone with König and willingly put yourself in his grasp. 

A cough from the doorway had you leaping apart from the man as if you'd been burnt.

Your chest heaved as your heart smashed against your ribs, begging to be let loose from its constraints. A low exhale fell from the man beside you, as though reminding himself to breathe. 

"Well," Price whistled, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. "That's sure a sight at 6am." 

You cleared your throat, rubbing the back of your neck. A lot had happened in the time that you and König had confronted each other, none of it was easy to explain. In fact, none of it was easy to even understand yourself. 

"We were just waiting on Ghost," you rasped, shrugging nonchalantly. 

Price raised a disbelieving brow but up didn't press, only shooting König a look dripping with warning. He didn't like that you were alone in here with him, but the man had no right. He was the one that assigned König to you, he was the one that took him in as your replacement. 

John Price was just as guilty as König, except his charge was betrayal. 

A sneer settled on your lips at the reminder.

"Well, guess you can meet our newest member a bit early then." 

Newest member?

König sucked in a breath from beside you when a figure moved around behind Price's frame. They stood straight, appearing taller than they were with confident posture. 

Immediately, you knew that they would be trouble. 

Not by the smirk gracing their lips and not even by the distinct look of distaste that was smeared across their expression- but, the way that they stared at you as though you were a challenge waiting to be conquered. 

Like you were easy game. 

"As the 141 grows," Price began, gesturing to the small part of the team in the room, "we need more members to join roles that were previously left to one person." 

Your stomach churned. 

"Obviously, Birdy, you've been our main sniper but now we need more than one." The Captain was careful with his wording, watching you as though you were a ticking time bomb set to detonate any second now.

You fucking felt like one. 

As you observed the newest addition, they stared right back, raking in your visage from head to toe. Their crooked smile had you on edge, had you unnerved- but it also thrilled you. This person saw you as a threat. 

They didn't see a broken bird, someone helpless. Behind the arrogant smirk and the cocky body language, there was a hardness to their gaze. They weren't underestimating you, they still saw something across your face that indicated that you weren't done. 

But they were ready to meet you head on. 

Your expression turned stony. 

"And who is my newest replacement?" You ground out, eyes never leaving theirs. A feral grin pulled at their lips, amusement flooding their expression. It fucking made you seethe. Price opened his mouth to either introduce them or reprimand your clear rejection, but the sniper stepped forward with a snort.

"They should have called you 'Sunshine.'"

Anything VI (König x Reader)

The 6th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

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: It’s been a while

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

Warning: Graphic Language

-

The sunrise had become a welcomed sight, it was always something that you craved after a night of fitful sleep. You were never well rested when you opened your eyes but, by God, were you relieved.

However, unlike the hundreds of mornings before, this time you woke up with a pit in your stomach. There was no relief and only a sense of dread as you lay staring at the ceiling. You took in a deep breath. 

The sun crept through the window, reminding you that it was the weekend and that you should be out and about. You’d done plenty of contemplation, wondering about your circumstances every day and every night for over a year. 

You weren’t going to solve the mystery in one day. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

Weiterlesen

lewis at the neat burger in nyc 😵‍💫

Viper // Part 2 // MAX VERSTAPPEN – N.01 (N.033)

Author’s Note: Wow you guys, the response to the first part I posted for this literally blew my mind. I’m so glad you guys liked it. Sorry it took so long to get this next part up, it’s been a busy couple of weeks. I’m probably gonna create a masterlist for my posts shortly, once I figure out how to do that lol

For those who missed Part 1, find it here.

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

Characters: Max Verstappen x driver reader, Daniel Ricciardo x driver reader (besties).

Word Count: 11.5 K

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

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

After the post-race debrief where Christian had spent most of his time shouting at his drivers for their stupid actions (Max for causing the crash, you for your public confrontation) and you refusing to acknowledge the other driver as the team worked on some new PR strategies to get you both out of this mess, you’d booked it back to your hotel to pack up your shit and get the hell out of Germany.

You’d hid away at Dan’s apartment in Monaco for those few days before you had to go to Budapest for the next race, having the place to yourself because he was expected at the Renault factory for testing and simulator work. You knew if you’d gone back to Milton Keynes, you would’ve been hounded by the press, and that was the last thing that Red Bull wanted. You’d explicitly been told to keep a low profile for the time being.

On the Tuesday morning, you woke to the news that the FIA had come to a decision after reviewing the incident. Max was handed a 3 place grid penalty for causing the accident (which was bullshit…) and you were given a hefty fine for your misconduct, which was to be expected. But, that wasn’t the only thing the FIA wanted from you. They also asked that you attend some mandatory anger management sessions, and sentenced you to a few days of community service.

You’d immediately called your manager to see if there was any way to get out of these stupid anger management sessions. You didn’t have anger issues… just irritation towards a certain driver who’s reckless driving had taken away your win. For fucks sake, Max had been in her shoes last year with the whole Ocon incident and hadn’t been subjected to anger management sessions. Between the two of them, surely he would benefit more from those. But no, now you had weekly calls with a therapist to teach you ways to channel your frustrations into something more productive. The whole thing was so stupid.

You’d then caught a late flight out to Budapest on your own on the Wednesday night, declining Grosjean’s invitation to join him and a good chunk of the grid on a chartered flight. You had no interest in showing up to the airport with half the Formula 1 drivers, knowing that it would be swarming with paps. You definitely hadn’t declined because you were avoiding the other Red Bull driver who was going to be on that flight.

 Thursday morning, you’d been one of the last to get to the track. Partially because you wanted to avoid the media for as long as you could, and partially because you knew it was going to be a long day. One of the perks of arriving last minute was that you got to avoid the journalists lingering around the paddock as you rushed to make your first meeting. But, you couldn’t avoid them forever.

Now you were sitting in a press conference with the Renault and Mercedes boys, Daniel plopping himself down in the seat between you and Max in the first row and rearranging the name tags (because that was supposed to be your seat). You’d been briefed by the Red Bull communications team with responses when the inevitable questions came up and warned not to get snappy.

As expected, it wasn’t long before a question came your way.

“Y/N, you had a very public altercation with your teammate at the last Grand Prix. Should we expect any more fireworks this weekend?”

Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t roll your eyes. Smile. “I’ll admit, that wasn’t my finest hour.” You paused, hearing a chuckle rumble through the room. “Emotions run high during a race, for every driver on that grid. My race ended earlier than I would’ve liked, and I didn’t deal with that in the best way. I’ve since apologized publicly and privately” a lie, but you doubted Max would call you out on the lie in front of all the reporters “to my teammate for my actions post-race. We’ve moved past what happened, and we’re focused on getting the best result for our team in this upcoming race.”

“Max, care to comment?”

You didn’t turn your head, keeping you gaze straight ahead as Max leaned in towards the microphone. “Y/N said it all. It’s in the past, and we’re focused on winning the next race for the team.”

The PR team will be thrilled with the fact that they were able to pretend so well. No one would know that you hadn’t spoken a single to your teammate since the incident.

“Y/N, any thoughts on the fine and recommendations you received from the FIA?”

Your smile dropped, but at least you managed not to roll your eyes again. “It is what it is.” You answered diplomatically, instead of voicing that you thought it was a gigantic waste of your time.

Daniel didn’t hesitate to jump in with a joke to diffuse some of the tension in the room. “You’re going to have to share any tips you learn with me. Renault would probably be happy if I stopped breaking doors after a bad session.”

“Will do.” You smiled at your best friend.

The conference was pretty standard after that, the focus shifting back towards the upcoming race. You kept your head down unless called upon, ready for this day to be over so you could focus on the race that was quickly coming up.

You had a point to prove.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

If people hadn’t figured out that you meant business after securing pole position for the first time ahead of Sunday’s race, they definitely did after you won the Hungarian Grand Prix. You’d raced a perfect race, making no mistakes. Max had wound up in P3, fighting with Hamilton for most of the race quite a few seconds behind you. You wouldn’t have been able to remove the smirk from your face if you’d tried, as you jumped out of your car after parking it behind that #1 sign and ran over to your team to celebrate.

You rolled your eyes from behind your helmet when you pulled back from your team to find Max waiting to give you a fist bump in front of the cameras that surrounded you. Knowing that a big deal would be made out of it if you ignored him, you bumped your first against his. But then you quickly turned, leaving him standing there as you went off to do the post-race interview and make your way into the cool down room to get ready for your podium.

Standing on that top step while your national anthem played, you really couldn’t think of a better way to wrap up the first half of the season. And after spraying champagne with the other two drivers up here with you, you couldn’t resist making a comment to your teammate as you posed for a picture.

“You were right, the champagne does taste sweeter from the top.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Daniel said from behind you, as you sat quickly reading over the leasing agreement in front of you, trying to decide if you should sign it or not.

It was the first Tuesday of the summer break, and you’d dragged him along to a few apartment viewings that you had booked today, determined to find a place of your own. So far, this was the best of the units you’d seen today, though you still weren’t 100% sold on it. It had everything on your list… but just didn’t feel like home. Still, you’d asked for an application because you weren’t sure this one would be topped.

You glanced up from the pages, rolling your eyes at your friend. “We went over this already, Danny. I’m not crashing in your guestroom forever.”

The older driver pouted at you. “It’s not crashing if you move in as my roommate. I can even charge you rent if you want.”  

“Dude, it’s not like I’d be moving far away. This place is literally two blocks away. Don’t you want your own space back?”

Daniel shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve been living with me for months now and we haven’t killed each other yet. There’s plenty of space, you already have a bunch of stuff there, and you can even have a sim set up in the office if you want. It would be fun.” He mumbled that last part, and you could tell that this wasn’t just out of the blue. He’d given it a bit of thought.

Now that you thought about it, he had been the one to point out most of the flaws in the apartments you’d seen today. “Are you just asking cause my dad asked you to look out for me?” You asked, narrowing your gaze slightly to make sure he’d tell you the truth.

“Fuck no, we all know you’re fully capable of looking after yourself. You proved that to everyone when you were 10 at your first karting race” Daniel laughed lightly, before his face became slightly more seriously. “Look, as much as we love what we do, our jobs are some of the loneliest, most isolating ones out there. Not a lot of people get how exhausting the whole circus is. It’s been nice to come home after a race to someone who understands and just chill. So yeah, I’m not asking cause I feel like I have to. I’m asking cause you’re one of my best friends and I like having you around.”

A smile rose to your lips, warmth spreading through your chest. “Well when you put it like that…”

Daniel shrugged off the soft moment, a smirk lining his lips as he presented his closing argument. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to live in this building. Max lives a couple of floors down.”

Your smile dropped, and you turned your attention back towards the leasing agent who was trying to sell you the place. “Yeah, this one’s not going to do. Sorry.” The last thing you wanted out of your apartment was to be bumping into the one person you couldn’t stand on a regular basis. You’d think that Daniel had just won the World Driver’s Championship with the victorious grin that crossed his face as you turned down another apartment.

The agent looked disappointed, but still politely walked you out of the unit and out to the street, wishing you luck in your search.

“Are you being serious about the roommate thing?” You asked once you were safely back on the street and walking back towards Dan’s place to get lunch.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.”

You thought about it for a couple of minutes as you continued to walk and had to admit that Dan was right. It made sense. Your lifestyles were similar so you wouldn’t be getting in each other’s way. It had been nice to come back to his place after a shitty race and just chill together, forgetting all about it. Daniel was practically family, so it wouldn’t be weird. You had already essentially been living there since the start of the season anyways, and Daniel had always made you feel welcome. It already felt like home.

It was an easy decision.

“Guess you going to have to make room in that trophy case for some of mine too.”

“You’re gonna move in?!” You weren’t sure how it was possible, but somehow Daniel’s smile grew.

You smiled back at him. “No take backs.”

This would be interesting.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

The full-on move to Daniel’s house hadn’t been that big of a deal. You’d slowly been bringing more and more of your things over to Monaco over the last couple of months with each of the trips back and forth from Milton Keynes, so it wasn’t like you had much to do. Daniel’s place was already fully furnished as he’d been living there for a while. The only thing was to have that simulator brought in, and you’d made space in the living room for a piano (something you did to relax, you’d been playing since you were a kid.)

It only took a few days to get fully settled in, quickly establishing some ground rules so that you wouldn’t actually end up killing one another. Simple things, like reminding Daniel not to leave the toilet seat up and him reminding you not to leave half empty coffee mugs on every available flat surface. You also had a rule for non-judgemental communication, where if the other person was doing something that was getting on your nerves, you were supposed to talk about it instead of bottling it up. To be fair, you didn’t really see this as being an issue considering how easy going you and the Aussie were, but you also didn’t want to risk losing your most valued friendship over moldy leftovers that stayed in the fridge.

You’d quickly settled into a new routine, but it felt like nothing had really changed. Just like that, Monaco was your home.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Your two brothers and their girlfriends had come out to Monaco during the second week of summer break. It had been nice to get to know your both of your brother’s significant others too, considering that you had only met them a handful of times in person since you were barely ever in Canada. It wasn’t nearly as hectic as the last time you’d seen everyone at the Canadian Grand Prix because you had nothing else to focus on but getting reacquainted.

Daniel had rearranged the office to fit another bed, so that everyone could fit in his 4-bedroom apartment. (You’d offered to take the couch while they visited but he’d told you not to worry about it). Michael and Blake had spent a good chunk of the week with you guys as well, getting the old Australian gang back together from your childhood. You’d even spent a weekend in northern Italy, on a little wine retreat that Daniel had organized for everyone (the guy liked wine even more than you, which was saying something.)

 Those couple of weeks turned out to be exactly what you needed to forget about Formula one, enjoying your time spent in the sunny weather with your family, recharging and relaxing.

You couldn’t have had a better summer break if you’d tried.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

The last Monday of the summer break, you’d been summoned back to Milton Keynes for some simulator work and media obligations at the Red Bull Racing factory. As much as you’d enjoyed the past few weeks off, you were looking forward to getting back into your race car.

You’d gone in early with your performance coach, fully planning on taking advantage of the state-of-the-art gym at the facility. It felt good, getting back into the swing of things. You’d hadn’t stopped training over the break, working through some programs your performance coach would send you, but it was far more motivating to have him here in person to push you through the session. Your neck would be feeling it tomorrow, you were sure. You wrapped up the training session with a run on the treadmill, popping your headphones in to tune out the world around you and setting a comfortable pace.

It wasn’t until you powdered down the treadmill sometime later that you noticed you weren’t alone with your performance coach anymore. You had turned to step off the machine, almost hesitating when you spotted your coach chatting with Max and his own performance coach, James.

You removed one of your earbuds when you realized that James had said something to you but you hadn’t heard him. “Sorry, what?”

James didn’t seem to mind, repeating his question. “Running from something? You put Max’s pace from our run this morning to shame.”

A smirk automatically appeared on your face as you shrugged a shoulder. “Seems to me like that’s been the norm all season.” Both your trainer and James chuckled, assuming you were just joking around. You weren’t. Max certainly hadn’t been a fan of the comment, if the sour look on his face was anything to go by.

“Did you have a good summer break?” James asked, not noticing the tension between the two drivers.

“Yeah, it was good.” You answered shortly, but it became very clear from the expectant look on James’s face that the four-word answer wouldn’t cut it. “Did some apartment hunting in Monaco for the first week, only for Daniel to somehow convince me to move in with him to his oversized apartment. Once that was settled, my brothers and their girlfriends came out for a visit, and we just made the most out of those couple of weeks off. Nothing too crazy.” You wrapped up, taking a drink from your water bottle.

“Oh.” James seemed surprised, and you could swear you saw disappointment sweeping through his gaze. “I didn’t realize you and Ricciardo were together.”

You almost choked on your water. “God, no. We’re not.” You cringed, huffing out a breath when you realized you would have to explain your friendship with the grid’s most likeable driver to yet another person. But before you could get another word out, Max scoffed at your answer. The sound wiped away your decent mood and had you turning a narrowed gaze towards him. “You got something to say, Verstappen?”

“There are no cameras around, Y/N. No need to lie.”

You couldn’t help the look of disbelief that crossed your face. Besides you, Daniel was probably closest to Max out of the drivers on the grid. Max should know, better than most, that the idea of a romantic relationship between you and Daniel was laughable. Surely, he was just saying that to press your buttons… and it was working. “You know damn well that I’m not lying.”

Max’s smirk was all the answer you needed.

“Y/N.” Your performance coach cut in, before you could really dig into your anger. “We’ve got to get you ready for the Puma shoot. They’ll be expecting you soon.”

You tore your gaze away from your irritating teammate, nodding at your coach. He was right, you didn’t have any time to be wasting on this. So, you left without another word, putting all your energy into getting on with your day.

The Puma shoot had been straightforward, modeling pieces of the company’s upcoming fall and winter collection for their social media pages. Sure, you’d spent more time that you would’ve liked in hair and makeup after a quick shower, but that was part of the deal. You still weren’t super comfortable when it came to photoshoots like this, but considering you were now a high-profile athlete, it was just another facet of the job when it came to keeping the sponsors happy. It took a little bit of time, but eventually you settled into the rhythm of the session and even managed to enjoy yourself a little bit.

The next task for the day was modeling some of the new Red Bull Racing merch for the second half of the season, showing off some of the new items that would become available as of next week. Joggers and shirts with updated sponsorship logos, a couple of new hat collections, and other random things.

Once that wrapped, the PR team was quick to track you down and let you know that they wanted to film some content for sponsors and the online media, seeing as both you and Max were in the building today.

“I thought I was meant to do some sim training today…” You mumbled, knowing that the longer to took to get around to the sim training, the later you would be stuck at the factory tonight because it needed to get done.

The PR team lead shot you a sympathetic smile, knowing that this wasn’t your favourite way to spend your time. “It shouldn’t take more than an hour… if you two behave yourselves.”

You scoffed. “I’m always well behaved.”

Half the PR team laughed at your statement; the other half raised their brows at you. Okay, maybe you weren’t always well behaved. But it wasn’t your fault that you hated anything media related. You were convinced that it was all a gigantic waste of time and avoided it as much as you possibly could. Besides, the thought of having to spend the next hour sitting next to Max reciting lines for sponsored videos was enough to make you want to claw your own eyes out.

It was very clear to everyone in the room that you and Max hadn’t worked your shit out over summer break like they’d been hoping. Quite frankly, you had no intention to. You were perfectly fine with plastering a fake smile on your face when the camera was rolling and dropping it the moment they cut. You could be just as fake as the rest of them when you had to. You were still giving them the content they wanted. But behind the scenes, neither you nor Max would be the first to fold.

The last video you filmed was one that was basically a Dutch language lesson for you ahead of the Belgian GP, where Max would translate a sentence and you would attempt to repeat it. It got a couple laughs out of the team, as you butchered certain common phrases. You didn’t mind, because you had zero doubt that the role would be reversed if you tried to teach Max French or Spanish.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself when the perfect opportunity arose. “Wait, how do you say ‘I’m the world’s biggest idiot’?”

“Ik ben 's werelds grootste idioot.” Max didn’t even hesistate to provide the translation, waiting for you to repeat it.

“Oh no, I’m good.” You smirked. “I just wanted to hear you finally admit it to the world.”

Max’s gaze narrowed at you as the PR team burst into laughter all around you, knowing that he’d absolutely just walked into that one himself.

The smirk remained on your face for the rest of the video.

Hell, you’d even say it helped to boost your mood when you spent the next several hours sitting in front of a simulator running through countless scenarios.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

The first race back after the summer break was the Belgian Grand Prix at Spa, and you were very quickly reminded how dangerous your passion was. Everyone was quiet after that crash in the Formula 2 support race, instantly knowing that it wasn’t going to be good. You’d been sick when it was confirmed that Anthoine hadn’t survived.

It had been your first time dealing with something like this since joining the sport. Sure, you remembered Jules’s accident in 2014, but you hadn’t been there when it happened. You hadn’t had to figure out how you could possibly get in your car and race, not even 24 hours later. You hadn’t had to walk by a broken family, publicly grieving the loss of their son.

It broke your heart.

You’d spent the night before the race in Daniel’s room, neither of you really saying much but not wanting to be alone. You’d barely slept, stuck in your head as you realized that it could happen to any one of you at any time. You wondered if you were crazy, for still wanting to race even after knowing that. Before heading out to the track the following morning, Daniel had pulled you into one of the tightest hugs you’d ever experienced and quietly reminded you to be as safe as possible during the race. You squeezed him just as tightly, repeating the sentiment back to him.

The atmosphere at the track was heavy, which was to be expected. The media were as respectful as they could be, not being quite as invasive as they usually would be. You weren’t the only driver who seemed to be stuck in their head that morning, people mainly keeping to themselves, even through the routine driver’s parade. You’d managed to hold it together until the moment of silence, dedicated to Anthoine. Everyone was stood around his helmet, his mother and brother front and center.

You’d made the mistake of looking towards his family, and suddenly you weren’t able to hold it in anymore. Your throat ached and your eyes burned, a couple of rogue tears rolling down your cheeks. You bit harshly at the inside of your cheek, because now was not the time to have a full-on breakdown. You trained your gaze back towards the bright pink helmet, trying to reel everything back in. You wiped the tears away, letting out a shaky breath. At least no one could see the other tears threatening to spill over behind your sunglasses.

During the national anthem, Max subtly bumped his shoulder against yours to get your attention from where he was stood next to you. You shook your head at him, not wanting to deal with that right now. You already had enough on your mind. It wasn’t until you saw your car lined up on the grid with your team around it that you were finally able to slip back into your race weekend mindset, focused entirely on the race ahead of you and what you needed to do.

You put everything behind you and focused only on driving.

You focus almost cracked when you saw the other Red Bull veering off the track in your mirror and into one of the tire walls at Eau Rouge. “Is Max okay?!” You immediately asked through your radio, competition be dammed on a weekend like this one. Your engineer quickly confirmed that he was fine, having sustained damage in the first corner that disabled his steering.

Once you received the confirmation that everything was fine, you put everything you had into getting this race over with. The podium finish behind the Ferrari and Mercedes didn’t feel nearly as good as it usually did.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Monza wound up being a forgettable race weekend.

Your engine had crapped out in the middle of Q3, so you hadn’t been able to set a time and were set to start the race in P10. It was miles ahead of your teammate, who started in P19 because of grid penalties for using new power unit components ahead of the race weekend. But, that didn’t matter because after a shit race you’d wound up finishing just ahead of Max in P7, him in P8.

The pair of you were equally frustrated about the weekend outcome, getting through your media duties as quickly as possible and not saying a word during the post-race debrief. The minute the meeting wrapped, you both made your way to the airport to catch a flight back to Monaco, ready to go home and forget about this weekend.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Your impromptu date was late.

You glared at the clock, watching the seconds slowly ticking by. You could think of a million better ways to be spending a rare, free Saturday night between race weekends.

You already weren’t really in the mood to be going out tonight, but when Daniel had informed you that Max was coming over that night to watch a UFC fight, you decided to make yourself scarce. That came in the form of agreeing to go on a date with a guy you’d met the last time you’d gone out in Monaco with your friends. You’d been hoping to be out of the house long before Daniel’s company was supposed to arrive, but that wasn’t happening.

In fact, you’d heard a knock at the front door while you’d been in your room slipping into your dress for the evening, so you knew that Max had already been here for a little bit.

You didn’t leave your room until you received a text that your date was a few minutes away. You grabbed your phone, letting out a long breath as you pulled your bedroom door open and started the journey towards the front door. You wanted to make it to the entrance unnoticed, but the clicking of your heels against the hardwood floor made it impossible, two sets of eyes on you the moment you stepped into the living space.

Daniel’s jaw dropped, shamelessly checking you out.

Max’s gaze hardened, his eyes burning through you.

“You’re going out dressed like that?!” Daniel jumped up from the couch, snapping himself out of his stupor.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Why, is there a problem?” You knew that you looked good tonight, not one to half ass it. You’d dressed in a lovely silk emerald dress that hung off your toned frame perfectly, showcasing your tanned skin and sharp features. Your hair was pin straight, pinned back behind your ears and falling smoothly down your back. Your makeup was on point, with a killer cat eye and a not-so-subtle red lip. Like you said, you knew you looked good.

“No, no problem, you do you.” Daniel was quick to recover. “I kind of feel bad for your date. Poor guy won’t be able to think straight, you’re going to blow him away. Right Max?” Daniel added, realizing half a second too late the whole can of worms that he’d just opened.

You narrowed your gaze slightly as Max’s assessing gaze wandered up and down your body once again. “Looks a little desperate from here.”

 What. A. Fucking. Dick.

“Guess you would know all about being desperate, eh? What with your habit of running your competition off the track and into walls to beat them.” You bit back, smirking as his face seemed to become even redder in frustration.

“Would you fucking let that go already?!” Max snapped, Dutch accent really coming through as he continued to shout. “Jesus fucking Christ. Your crash happened two months ago. Get over it already!”

“Yeah sure, I’ll just conveniently forget about that time I almost died because my teammate was being a desperate asshole. No biggie.” You muttered sarcastically. “Especially when said teammate refuses to acknowledge his responsibility in the aforementioned crash and has yet to apologize, two months after the fact.”

Barely a beat passed before Max came back at you with his next retort. “Is that what you need to stop acting like an entitled bitch? A fake apology?”

You almost laughed, but not because you found this funny. “No. Honestly, I don’t need anything from you. Quite frankly, even if you did apologize, I wouldn’t believe you. So, just fuck off.”

Your phone chimed at the perfect time, your date letting you know that he was here. You turned on your heel before Max could get another word out, giving Daniel’s arm a reassuring squeeze to let him know that you weren’t that bothered by what had just happened in the last few minutes, before finishing the trip over to the front door. You called out a “Don’t wait up for me, Ricciardo!” before letting the door slam shut behind you, relieved breath escaping you. You never saw Daniel smacking Max upside the head for his stupid behavior.

Determined not to let the last 5 minutes throw off your entire night, you forced it to the back of your mind and threw a practiced smile on your face as you met up with your date, letting him whisk you away for a pleasant evening.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Your date was a flop, reminding you yet again why you hated dating.

You’d started out by going to dinner, spending the entire time talking about his career and his recent move to Monaco and everything about him, while you’d barely been able to get a word in. When the food had arrived and he’d seen the salad topped with chicken that you’d ordered, he’d made a comment about you trying to watch your weight, thinking you were kidding when you told him that you actually were because of your job. He barely asked you anything about yourself.

In fact, he didn’t even ask you what you did for a living until you were recognized by a fan who’d asked for a photo outside of the restaurant. “What, are you a well-known model or something?” He’d automatically assumed.

“Me, a model?” You couldn’t help but laugh, even if you found it a little flattering. “God, no. I’m a driv-”

“Oh! Car’s here.” He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence.

You don’t know why you did it (definitely not because you were avoiding your own apartment…) but the next thing you knew you suggested going to a club for a bit of dancing. Your date agreed, probably thinking that the more drinks you got into your system the more likely you were to go back to his place with him at the end of the night. You suggested Jimmy’z, knowing that there was a high chance you could bump into some of your friends and ditch your date for the rest of the night. He’d seemed surprised by your suggestion because it was known for being one of the more exclusive clubs in Monaco, but if he’d bothered to pay attention to anything you’d said tonight he’d know that you were pretty much a regular there.

You found that your date wasn’t the worse company when he kept his mouth shut, his one redeeming quality being that he was good on the dancefloor. So that’s how you spent the next little while, sipping on vodka sodas and dancing the night away.

“Y/N?!”

You didn’t stop dancing as you turned, your smile becoming genuine as you spotted your favourite Monégasque and French man from the grid. “Charles! Pierre! What are you guys doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Pierre smirked, eyeing your suddenly starstruck date. Of course, he would recognize the male drivers. Charles and Pierre politely introduced themselves, identical smirks on their faces as they turned their attention back to you.

“It’s a long story.” You mumbled, before sending your date off to refill your drinks. “I would’ve just hung out with you guys if I’d known you were going out tonight.”

“Not having a good date?” Charles leaned in, eyes lighting up at the prospect of hearing some gossip.

You sighed. “It’s fine when he’s not talking. Unfortunately, he hasn’t shut up for most of the evening. I’m not one to brag about my career to strangers but like, he hasn’t even asked me what I do for a living… And he knows something about Formula 1 because he clearly recognized the two of you.”

Charles immediately looked unimpressed. “Then why are you wasting your time?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that one at first.

Telling other people that you’d gone out to avoid being at home while your teammate was visiting your roommate would lead to all kinds of questions that would end up annoying you. And that wasn’t the only reason you’d decided to give this date a chance, right? So, you took a moment, thinking over an appropriate response, one that you were sure would kill any further line of questioning, before speaking. “He’s easy on the eyes and everyone has needs Charles.”

Charles made a face, grossed out by the prospect that you’d been looking for someone to hook up with. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. You and Charles had gotten quite close your first year competing in Formula 2 back in 2017, him becoming almost like a little brother to you on the track. His reaction didn’t surprise you at all. Pierre seemed amused by the whole thing, probably having assumed that from the moment he’d seen your date.

You stood there chatting for another couple of minutes until your date came back with some fresh drinks in hand. He immediately started up a conversation with the other two drivers, all but forgetting about you as he revealed he was actually a pretty big Ferrari fan. Your brow rose at that one, because he was only digging himself a deeper grave. There was no way you were going home with a Ferrari fan.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Pierre nudged your arm and yelled out a “There they are!” You turned your attention towards where he was now pointing, eyes widening significantly as you spotted the last two people you wanted to see right now quickly approaching your little group.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Daniel had a shit eating grin on his face as he spoke over the music, Max trailing behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing?! I thought you guys were watching the fight?” You muttered, jabbing his chest. Your date was now looking at you like you’d grown another head when he realized that you knew yet another two Formula 1 drivers. “I can’t believe you fucking crashed my date.”

“Charles said you were miserable.” Daniel looked so beyond amused right now.

You quickly mentally plotted a way to get rid of the Monegasque without leaving a trail, not surprised that he’d spilled the details of your dinner date as quickly as he had. “So you thought it would be a good idea to come save me?”

“Yes.” His grin widened, like he was doing you a favour.

“And you brought Max?! The one person on this fucking planet that I cannot stand?” You hissed, quietly enough so that only Daniel would hear as you jabbed your finger into his chest again.

“Ow, stop that.” He muttered, swatting your hand away. “I wasn’t going to just leave him alone at the apartment.”

You narrowed you gaze, hoping that Daniel could see that you were actually a little annoyed with him right now. “So, you brought him with you, to crash my date. You’re such an idiot.”

“He can hear you.” Max spoke up, unimpressed.

“I don’t care.” You snapped back with an eye roll.

Realizing that your date was still gawking at you, you forced a very fake smile back onto your face and introduced him to Daniel and Max too. They were nice enough to indulge your date in a little bit of small talk as you mentally ran through a couple of scenarios to get yourself out of this situation.

“Y/N, how do you know all these drivers? Do you work in Formula 1 as a reporter or something?” Your date eventually asked, glance shifting between everyone in the group.

Max and Daniel laughed, thinking that the guy was joking. You wanted the ground to collapse under you as their laughter faded and looks of disbelief crossed both of their faces when they realized he was being serious.

“Mate, she’s a fucking driver too.” Max looked way too thrilled to be the one filling your date in on your day job.

“What? Girls can’t-” He paused when he noticed everyone’s gazes narrowing at that train of thought, yours included. Great, another misogynistic man… you sure knew how to pick em.

“Girls can’t what?” Max apparently wasn’t going to let your date off the hook for that.

“Well… Isn’t it too dangerous?”

“Last I checked the danger factor doesn’t change if it’s a man or woman driving the car.” Pierre had your back, as always. Most of the drivers did at this point, you’d proved yourself after that first pre-season testing session after all. They saw you as one of them, just as passionate about your day job as the rest of them.

“You might want to google the driver rankings. Y/N’s crushing all the boys.” Daniel prompted.

“Maybe if you’d spent less time talking yourself up and paid attention to the girl sitting across from you at dinner, this awkward situation could’ve been avoided.” Max jumped in too, satisfied smirk on his face as your date seemed to crumble before the group.

Part of you felt bad, but they had a point. Your date looked towards you for help, but you shrugged a shoulder. “You went on and on about having a box above the pits at the Monaco GP. Not to sound vain or anything, but I literally won that race…”

“I might have exaggerated a little…” Your date mumbled.

You sighed, not that surprised. You were over this disaster of a night, ready to go home, regretting ever having agreed to this in the first place. Your distraction had totally backfired. “Pro tip for the next time you convince a girl to go out with you: don’t bullshit your way through the date. You just wasted both of our time.”  

Your date’s shoulders sunk. “So, no chance at a second date?”

“No.” The four drivers around you simultaneously answered the question, and you had to fight to keep a straight face. You almost felt bad for the guy, but not really. He’d been a crap date.

“Probably best you head out, mate.” Daniel added, amusement evident on his face.

At Daniel’s suggestion, your date seemed to realize just how badly he’d messed up tonight. You couldn’t tell if his disappointment was because the driver’s he’d recognized wanted nothing to do with him or because he finally clued into the fact that he’d missed his shot with you. He quickly turned and fled from the scene; figurative tail tucked between his legs.

To your dismay, the boys immediately started laughing the second the coast was clear. You closed your eyes and threw your head back, vaguely gesturing for them to get their stupid comments out of their system and get it over with.

“He seemed like a solid bloke.” Daniel was the first to chime in. “Definite boyfriend material.”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend. Daniel had been around the last time you’d attempted to have a relationship and had seen the whole thing go up in flames when your ex refused to take your career seriously. You’d sworn off dating for as long as you’d be in Formula 1, partially because you didn’t want the distraction and partially because no one outside the sport understood why you devoted your entire life to it. That, and you had a strict rule about dating anyone inside the sport because you wanted people to take you seriously. You were strictly a one-night stand kind of girl with a stranger you’d never have to see again. “Oh please, you know I wasn’t looking for my fucking soulmate. I just wanted a fun night out.”

“And a good fuck.” Max added, shamelessly scanning your dress that left very little to the imagination. “Girls don’t get dressed up like that for nothing.”

You wanted to be annoyed at the blunt statement and the fact that Max had figured it out so easily, but you didn’t say anything to that because he technically wasn’t wrong. The other guys’ jaws dropped when you shrugged a shoulder in agreement, and you found your gaze narrowing slightly at their shocked reaction. “Don’t look at me like that. The double standard right now is gross. I deal with enough of that at work, I don’t need it when I’m trying to have fun.”

Charles was the first to hold his hands up in mock surrender, the same look on his face as earlier when you’d told him why you’d tolerated your date for as long as you had. “I’m deeply uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. Drinks?”

“Tequila.” You smiled widely, happy to move on. “Lots of it.”

“You two sticking around?” Charles then asked Daniel and Max, to make sure he brought back enough drinks. Both boys immediately nodded, never turning down drinks that would be on someone else’s tab. The entire group migrated over to the VIP section, Charles quick to order multiple tequila shots for everyone. You’d downed them all in quick succession, toasting to failed dates and unmet expectation.

You were determined to still have a good time, even with the turn your night had taken. There were still plenty of fish in the sea, or in this case, at Jimmy’z.

“I could do with a dance.” You spoke up a little while later, happily buzzed thanks to the alcohol flowing through your system. Pierre was quick to offer up his services, leading you out onto the dancefloor. Charles followed along, happy to dance with you as well. Daniel and Max stayed behind at the VIP bar, chatting away as they continued to work on their beers.

The three of you danced for a couple of songs, bass thumping through your bodies as you moved to the heavy electronic beats. It was fun, letting go and dancing your worries away with some of your favourite people. Charles in particular, had you laughing you hard you were clutching onto your stomach because of his silly dance moves. It was the most fun you’d had in a while.

It became even more fun when you easily caught the attention of a good-looking man who’d been dancing with his friends nearby. A few flirty smiles and gazes were exchanged, and the next thing you knew, his hands were on your waist, bodies pressed together as you moved in sync to the loud music. Your friends found their own dance partners, lost in their own worlds too.

As the dancing grew increasingly suggestive, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched in the overcrowded club. You’d turned in the man’s arms, pressing your back into his chest and swaying your hips against his as your eyes slowly scanned the club. You almost lost your footing when your gaze met Max’s intense one, the Dutch driver fully glaring at you, mouth drawn in a tight line. Why the fuck was he looking at you like that?

Determined to forget about it, you turned around to face your dance partner again. But you weren’t able to ignore it, feeling Max’s eyes on you as you continued to dance. The guy you were dancing with picked up on how you’d gotten a little stuck in your head, offering to get you another drink. You easily agreed, following him over to the main bar, ordering another vodka soda.

You spoke to him for the first time at the bar as you waited for your drinks, surprised by the Canadian accent you heard. It wasn’t every day you found other Canadians in Monaco, so you immediately jumped into a conversation about which part of the country the other was from, getting rather quickly acquainted with your fellow Canadian named Logan. The familiarity instantly put you at ease, any reservations disappearing. Maybe this night wouldn’t be a total bust after all.

*Trigger warning: non-consensual drug usage*

You’d gone back out onto to continue dancing in the middle of the dancefloor with your fresh drinks in hand, carefully holding your glass behind his head when his arm wrapped around your waist to pull you in close again for another dance. Caught up in the moment, you never noticed his sleezeball friend slipping something into your drink while it was out of your line of sight.

You smiled as you were twirled on the dancefloor, bringing your glass to your lips to take a sip of your drink. You’d only managed the smallest sip, as the glass was unexpectedly ripped from your hands and its contents dumped onto Logan.

“What the hell!?” You gasped, finding yourself face to face with your teammate.

He ignored your question, rushing his own question out instead. “Did you drink any of that?”

The urgency was clear in his voice, compelling an answer out of you before your irritation fully settled in.  “A couple of sips.”

You watched as clear fury settled on Max’s face, but it wasn’t directed towards you. Instead, his gaze traveled over your shoulder to Logan, who was still sputtering as he wiped what was left of your vodka soda from his eyes. Max stepped around you, shoving Logan’s chest and causing the latter to stumble back a few steps.

“What the fuck man?!” Logan slurred, clearly thrown by the sudden encounter.

You didn’t understand what was happening, wrapping your hand around Max’s arm to pull him back before he caused even more of a scene. “What the fuck are you doing?! Is it your new mission in life to ruin everything for me?”

“This fucking kut spiked your drink, Y/N.” Max said, glaring daggers at Logan.

You eyed Max for what felt like a long time but in reality was only a few seconds, knowing that he wouldn’t lie about something like this just to ruin your night. He might be an asshole to you most of the time, but he wouldn’t cross that line. “What are you talking about?” You asked quietly, the gravity of his accusation instantly killing the happy buzz you’d been floating around in for the last few hours.

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair, gaze softening significantly as he spoke to you. “His friend put something in your drink while you were dancing.”

Logan chose that moment to interject. “Oh, come on, this jealous asshole is full of shit. We were having fun!”

Max looked about ready to kill the guy on the spot, hands clenching into fists at his side. He shrugged off your arm, getting right back into Logan’s face. “What the fuck did you put in her drink?!”

Your nice new Canadian friend smirked at Max, your stomach twisting as you watched everything unfolding. “Chill the fuck out, dude. It’s a party!”

“I’m going to ask one more time.” Max’s voice was eerily calm, but you’d come to know your teammate rather well over the past few months so you knew he was about to snap. This tone was far more intimidating than any yelling he could’ve been, Logan’s gaze widening slightly as Max got even closer. “What did you give her?”

Logan smartly chose not to deflect this time around. “It was just a little Vitamin K to help her loosen up. She didn’t have enough for it to do much.” Your blood went cold, balance faltering. This guy had tried to give you a full dose of a common date-rape drug, and luckily you hadn’t had more than a small sip of your tainted drink.

Ketamine. You’d been drugged with a very illegal substance. It didn’t matter that you’d barely had a sip, it would still be in your system. Someone had spiked your drink with a date-rape drug. Even though he claimed you hadn’t had enough for it to really effect you, just the fact that it was in your system could ruin your whole fucking life. If the FIA showed up at your door tomorrow and demanded you take one of those random drug tests… you’d be done and it wasn’t even your choice. And… what would’ve happened if Max hadn’t been here?

You shuddered at the thought. Wasn’t that just the cherry on top for this shitshow of a night? You’d been so wrapped up in your internal freak out that you hadn’t noticed Max’s fist connecting with Logan’s face.

It wasn’t until a familiar dark brown head of curls popped up in front of you, grabbing onto Max and forcibly pulling him back that you caught on to the fact that a fight had broken out right in front of you while you’d numbly stood there processing everything. “Mate, the fuck are you doing!? You do not need anymore headlines following you and Y/N right now. There are camera phones everywhere.” Daniel hissed, struggling to keep Max back.

Max’s angry gaze settled upon you, silently asking you if it was okay to fill Daniel in on the situation.

You nodded you head, not sure where your voice had gone.

“Y/N was drugged. He” Max’s sharp glare snapped towards Logan “spiked her drink with Ketamine when she wasn’t looking. She had a couple sips before I could get the drink away from her.”

Daniel tensed, face falling as he took in the situation. If you’d thought that Max looked intimidating, it didn’t even compare to the look that came across your best friend’s face once his own anger set in. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, panic starting to set in. “Danny, I fucked up.”

“You did not do anything wrong here.” Daniel was quick to shake off your last statement. “This-” he paused, shaking as he struggled to find the right words “miserable excuse of a human being is solely responsible. This is not your fault.” He stressed, forcing out a long breathe so that he wouldn’t spontaneously combust. “How do you want to handle this? Cops?”

You quickly shook your head, not sure if it was all the alcohol you’d consumed prior or that one stupid sip that made the room spin around you. “No cops. Cops means reports, and reports are made public. No one can know.”

Daniel nodded once. “Then you need to get in contact with the legal team and get some NDAs, asap. Might be a good idea to loop Christian in, just in case.”

“You want to sweep this under the rug?!” Max exclaimed, clearly not agreeing with that idea. “This shithead deserves to be in jail for this shit. If he tried with Y/N, there’s no doubt he’s done it with other girls.”

The thought sent a chill down your spine.

“It’s Y/N’s choice.” Daniel argued with Max.

“It’s a stupid choice.” Max rebutted.

“Max.” You said his name so quietly that you were surprised when his concerned gaze turned towards you. “I don’t have any other choice. If I file a police report, I’m going to get drug tested and the results will eventually be made public, and even though it’s not like I chose to get drugged, I will lose my job over it. NDAs are the best bet.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“I know.” You sighed, still feeling sick to your stomach about the whole thing. “But it’s also the only way I don’t get torn to shreds by the media.” You said quietly.

You could only imagine the shit storm that would ensue if the media ever got word of what had happened tonight. Though you were sure some people would have your back, it didn’t change the fact that a majority of them would use this as a point to prove that you didn’t belong and try to pin the whole thing on you. You were the one who wore a short dress. You were the one who drank, danced and flirted. You were the one who hadn’t noticed until it was too late. You were the one who’d gotten yourself into this mess. They would find a way to place the blame on you.

“Max, get Y/N out of here.” Daniel snapped you out of your thoughts, clearly watching this whole blame game playing out on your face. You realized that the club security had shown up, pulling a protesting Logan towards the back. “I’m staying to handle this and make sure the fucker signs the agreements, so none of this ever gets out.” He added, casting a dry glare in his general direction.

“Don’t like… kill the guy.” You mumbled, meeting Daniel’s gaze. “Need you in the paddock.”

Daniel’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

“I mean it Danny. It’s not worth throwing your career away over some assault charges.” You said, taking a very wabbly step towards him, both him and Max automatically reaching out to steady you. “I’ll call Horner, we’ll figure out how to bury the… cunt with so much fucking legal paperwork he’d rather be dead. Besides, if anyone deserves to kick his ass it’s the girl he actually attempted to drug and…” You didn’t finish that sentence, but the implication was still heavy.

“Okay, Viper.” He said, slightly more convincingly.  

 Max took this as his cue to start leading you out of the packed club, immediately reaching out to steady you when your first couple of steps were a little too wobbly for his liking. He wound up hoisting one of your arms around his shoulders and wrapping his own arm around your waist and pulling you along with him through the crowd of people who carried on dancing like nothing had happened. You didn’t have it in your to be annoyed by the fact that Max was doing most of the heavy lifting right now, because you were in a bit of a state.

The minute the doors shut behind you and you were outside, you were almost overwhelmed by the stark contrast in setting. Outside was quiet, spacious, dark, the cool breeze from the harbour drifting over your shoulders. It was so different from the bright, stuffy and loud atmosphere of the club that it was practically a shock to the system. Your ears were ringing loudly, struggling to adjust as Max started walking you both towards the taxi stand.

“No, wait.” You protested, and to his credit Max stopped right away. “Can we sit for a minute. I just… need to breathe.”

He didn’t question you, leading you to a nearby bench that overlooked the water instead. He carefully sat you down, not saying a word as you patted the space beside you, silently asking him to join you. Though his brow furrowed slightly, he still took up the empty space next to you. You cast your gaze onto the harbour ahead of you but found that you were having a hard time focusing on things in the distance.  Again, you weren’t sure if that was because of all the alcohol or something else, so you turned your attention back towards the Dutchman sitting beside you. “I’m sorry for fucking up your night.”

His brows rose in surprise, probably because you weren’t in the habit of apologizing to him for anything. “Don’t apologize… it’s not like this was your fault.”

You frowned at his words, because you knew that it was. But before you could reaffirm your statement, Max spoke up again.

“If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.” He sighed. “I’ve been a dick to you since Germany… I know that the crash was my fault. You’ve been having this… incredible rookie season and I wanted to win. I pushed harder than I should have, knew the risk and regretted it immediately when I saw you spinning off the track. Believe it or not, I was coming to apologize in the garage before you… yelled at me in front of the entire Formula 1 world.”

You were stunned, not having expected this. “You… Are you just apologizing to me because you know I’m very likely not going to remember it in the morning?”

Max made a sound that almost sounded like a laugh. “No, heerlijk. I’m apologizing because you were right earlier. I was desperate and took it out on you.”

“Oh god, I think we’re in trouble, because there’s no fucking way Max Verstappen just admitted that I was right.” Your filter had been gone for a while now, so you weren’t that surprised by the words that came out of your mouth.

“Don’t get used to it.”

The two of you sat in silence for another couple of minutes, as you sat contemplating your next move. You knew that you needed to call your boss to fill him in on your current situation so that it could quietly be resolved, but a big part of you didn’t want to do it. You knew that the moment you called Christian, this little bubble where you were pretending that everything was fine would break, and it would become real. At least you were still pretty drunk, it helped with the nerves.

“We have to call Horner.” Max sighed, clearly on the same page as you.

You nodded, a chill running through your spine. Max noticed, shrugging out of your jacket and draping it over your shoulders, probably assuming it was because you were cold. “I really wish I didn’t have to do this.”

“Give me your phone.”

You unceremoniously pulled the device out of the side of your bra, ignoring Max’s raised brow as you typed in the passcode and handed it to him.

Max had wound up being the one to call Christian, on speakerphone for you, in the middle of the night. Though your boss hadn’t been impressed about being woken up, the second that Max spoke the words “something’s happened…” Christian immediately stopped complaining and you had his full attention.

“We’re out in Monaco,”

“Do not tell me one of my drivers had been arrested.” Christian interrupted.

“Not yet…” You mumbled, still feeling sick. “It’s worse.”

“What could possibly be worse!?”

Max ripped off the metaphorical band-aid. “Y/N was drugged by some asshole in a club.”

The silence on the other end of the line only made you even more anxious, so you took the phone from Max’s hands. “Well, not completely. I only had a sip before Max showed up and threw the drink in the guy’s face. I don’t know if I had enough of it for it to show up on a test… But yeah, it’s been a shitty fucking night and it’s not like we can report what happened to the police so we need your help and the legal team on this to make it disappear.” You babbled on, not surprised when Max took the phone back to stop you from speaking aimlessly.

Expecting your boss to go on a tirade about how irresponsible you’d been to even get into this position, you were genuinely surprised by his first question. “Are you okay?”

“Not really but I drank a lot tonight so it’s hard to tell if I feel weird because of the tequila or because of a small sip of a Ketamine laced drink.” You found yourself answering honestly.

“Fucking Christ.” Christian cursed, and you could hear some shuffling in the background. “Max, I need to know exactly what happened so I can properly relay the information to the legal team and figure out how we’re going to proceed.”

Max obliged, providing a far more detailed account of the evening from his point of view. He mentioned that as far as he was aware, he didn’t think that anyone had gotten pictures or videos of what had happened, but the altercation had been public. He gave an account of things you weren’t able to see, like your blown pupils and unfocused gaze, and how even sitting down you were swaying more than you should. Apparently, you were a fucking mess, enough to make the one person in the world you were supposed to hate concerned about you.

“Y/N, are you sure you don’t want to report this?” Christian asked, now that he had all the details. “It should go without saying, but the team would have your back. The FIA would understand.”

“No.” You said, surprised by how firm your voice was. “I don’t want this to become my story. I want people to talk about me because I’m a good driver, not because I was drugged and god knows what could’ve happened… That’s not me. I just want to forget about it.”

“If you’re sure…” Christian trailed off, giving you a second to change your mind. When you didn’t, he launched into a detailed explanation of how they were going to proceed. Lots of legal jargon that you were struggling to follow along with, exhaustion seeping into your bones. Hell, even if you’d been stone cold sober, you would’ve struggled to keep up.

You cut him off when he started talking about contingencies just in case their legal plan didn’t work. “Christian, honestly just do whatever has to be done to make it go away. I’m… I’m done with it.”

The call ended soon after that, Christian making Max promise that he’d keep an eye on you for the next couple of hours to make sure that you were really okay. Max agreed without complaint, before pocketing your phone and helping you over to the taxi stand so that you could finally get home and get some rest.

You didn’t say a single word the entire (short) taxi ride back to you and Daniel’s apartment.

You didn’t protest when Max helped you all the way up to your unit and into your room (how he knew which one it was without having to ask, you’d never know), giving you a minute to change into something more comfortable while he went to hunt down a water bottle for you. By the time he’d made it back to your room with a water bottle and some painkillers (for the inevitable horrific hangover in the morning), you’d already gotten under your fluffy duvet cover and pulled it up to your neck.

“I’m going to stay in the living room, until Daniel gets home. Just… let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded, thankful that you wouldn’t be left here all alone. Max turned to make his way back out of your room but stopped when you spoke up. “Hey, Max?”

“Yeah?” He faced you from the doorway, wondering what else you needed.

“Thank you.” You said, hoping that even through your inebriated state, he could see how much you meant it. “Things would’ve ended very differently if you hadn’t… Thanks for looking out for me even though I’ve been horrible to you for months.” You paused, realizing how soft that sounded. “Don’t think that this is gonna change things though, I’m still going to kick your ass, on track.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, heerlijk.”  

“You ever going to tell me what that means?”

“No.” You could hear his smirk, even though your eyes had drifted shut at one point. “Goodnight, heerlijk.”

Despite everything that had happened tonight, you fell asleep with a smile on your face.  

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For the next week, Daniel didn’t let you out of his sight.

You’d woken up the morning after the club incident, and as predicted the details of everything that happened after you’d had that sip of your last drink were a little fuzzy. Especially once you left the club. You vaguely knew what had happened, thanks to a conversation with Daniel that following morning, but now that you knew it was handled you were happy to completely forget about the whole thing and focus on the remainder of your debut Formula 1 season. You were still in contention for the championship. It was dependant on a couple of bad outcomes from Hamilton, and a bunch more race wins for you, but it was still a chance. Considering that you were still in your rookie season and this close, it only fueled the fire. You wanted to pull out the best results possible for your team.

But in the couple of days leading up to the Singapore Grand Prix, Daniel wouldn’t leave you alone. It didn’t matter how many times you told him that you were fine and okay with the way that everything had been handled that night (with the NDAs instead of going to the police), he wouldn’t drop it. It’s like he was just waiting for you to break, but there was no way you were going to let that happen.

On the Friday between practices, you’d snapped and told Daniel to fuck off for the rest of the weekend. You were fine, and you wanted to focus on the race, not this stupid thing that had almost happened to you. He’d backed off for the rest of the day, but you could still kind of see him around at a distance.

You were kind of happy that Max was steering clear of you, giving you the space you needed. Though you couldn’t remember exactly everything that had been said between the two of you that night, you didn’t feel as angry towards the Dutch driver anymore. How could you be, when even after you’d been a bitch to him hours before, he’d had your back through everything that night. He wasn’t making a big deal out of it, unlike everyone else who knew.

You still wanted to beat him, but that was more so because of the competition aspect of your job now.

So when you’d finished the race in P2, just ahead of Max who’d finished P3, you’d made your way over to him after getting our of your car and congratulated him on his result with a genuine smile on your face. No snide remarks or sarcastic comments. You weren’t friends, but you didn’t feel the need to rub it in his face. You were still proving your point, but far more subtly. Just enjoying the double Red Bull podium with Sebastian on that top step.

You wondered how long it would last, this unspoken truce. You were both far too alike for it to be like this for very long. One of you would inevitably fuck it all up again.

Only time would tell.

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

Read part 3 here!

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