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

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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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lewis at the neat burger in nyc 😵‍💫

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📸: deni.gfeller

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⇝ resolution .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART FIVE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: A letter in the mail changes everything.

WARNINGS: Mentions of canon typical violence, gore, blood, death; angst, fighting, slight NSFW, a really big rollercoaster of emotions, I'm sorry.

A/N: AFTER ALMOST THREE WEEKS!! I AM SO SORRY IT'S HERE IT'S HERE SOUND THE BELLS!!! Please don't froget to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, it helps so fucking much!!

WORD COUNT: 8.4k

MASTERLIST.

If you want to be tagged in future works, please follow and activate notifications on this account - @lilynottaken !

Also on Ao3!

“You know you can just go to bed, right?”

“Mmm...” You yawned, leaning your head on the cool porcelain of the bathtub’s edge as you watched Tommy try to grab at one of the toys you’d placed in the water for him, leaning over to push it towards him. “...’m fine.”

“You haven’t slept properly for a few days.” Simon tried again, arms crossed over his chest as he tried his best to not just grab you and shove you into bed and finish Tommy’s bath on his own. 

“Noted…” You said, voice groggy and throat sore but still with enough energy to snap at him. “Just go…”

Go where? He wanted to snap back, but kept himself quiet, looking away from your body slumped on the floor to your bed, letting out a frustrated sigh. 

It’d been a few days since he’d come back from the mission that had ended with him and the task force in your home, and despite the warm farewell you’d both shared, when he came back, you’d seemed to have grown colder towards him for no apparent reason, and God, did he hate how much it reminded him of the first few months of whatever this was, insisting to do everything by yourself and leaving no room for discussion, taking up almost all of Tommy’s time with yourself. 

Which was fine, you were his mother, after all, but it just felt a bit like… You were pushing him away, keeping him from your son all over again.

He didn’t like it. 

“I got some curry, go eat and let me finish him up.” He took a few steps towards you, leaning down and placing a hand on your back, immediately being taken aback as you jumped away from his touch, arm placed protectively over yourself as if he’d just tried to attack you.

“No!” You all but screamed, staring up at him in shock before seemingly realising what you’d just done. “No. I- I said it’s fine, Simon. Go eat, I’ll finish.”

He furrowed his eyebrows beneath the mask, clenching his fists at his sides as he watched you turn around again to call out softly at Tommy, who turned his head to you with a bright smile, unaware of the tension filling up the room between his parents. 

“Fine.” He said gruffly, not missing the way your shoulders tensed at the sound of his voice. 

He really didn’t fucking understand what had happened between you two, what could’ve occurred in the span of the few days he’d been gone to change the way you acted towards him completely…

It was worrying, the whole scenario that was playing out making him sick to his stomach as he took out the food he’d bought, making you a plate before his and pouring you a drink, simply staring at his own food while listening to you whisper to Tommy through the walls, suddenly having lost all his appetite. 

You hadn’t even gotten to talk like he’d promised when he came back, you’d dismissed any and every attempt to start a conversation, keeping it to short words and sentences, seemingly not wanting anything to do with him apart from the things you were basically obligated to talk to him about. 

And god, did he fucking hate it. 

“Let me feed him.” He spoke as you walked out of your bedroom with Tommy in your arms, his hair damp and curly from the water, chubby hands clinging onto one of his toys. 

“I can-”

“I’m going to feed him.” Simon snapped, walking over to you and reaching for his son, his towering figure and the fire in his eyes immediately shutting you up as you didn’t put on more of a fight, letting him take the small boy. “And you’re going to eat and then go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Tommy was placed in his chair, a plate of rice in front of him. “You need rest.”

“Maybe I don’t want to rest.” You retorted, voice almost gone, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head away from him, yet still keeping a watchful eye on him and Tommy, once again insinuating further that you didn’t trust him anymore anywhere near your son. 

Keep it calm. Not around Tommy.

You saw it by the way he clenched his hand around the fork in his hand, he was trying his best to not snap with your son present, not wanting to subject the small boy to that kind of spectacle. 

And yes, you didn’t either, but you couldn’t just act like everything was normal around him, you knew how you were acting now was just a trauma response to what had happened in the time he’d been gone, that it would all hopefully be better if you told him about it, but the mere thought of the files you’d received in the mail that were currently sitting in one of the cupboards’ drawers made you feel nauseated. 

You just… couldn’t see him the same. 

Yeah, you were once a kid with unlimited access to the internet, yes you accidentally saw some gore shit online, you’d heard some disgusting things thanks to your grandfather that had served in the military, you’d seen all the mess and blood after you’d given birth, you weren’t fully desensitised to gore or blood, but you’d seen it across the years. 

But those pictures, fuck. It wasn’t any surprise that you’d immediately thrown up after opening them, having expected maybe some letters about rent or something, not- whatever that was. 

What you’d been able to discern after flipping through them a few times was that they were not the original military’s file but copies, which by the way the ink was smudged on a few of them and the lettering was off, seemed to have been made under a lot of pressure and on a time limit. 

You didn’t understand at first, why they had been sent to you, too in shock and terrified of the images amongst them to even connect it to Simon until you saw his callsign. And as you started to read through them more carefully, you realised that it was everywhere. 

And fuck, you’d never been more terrified in your life. 

Of course, you were aware of what a man in his position did, but you’d never explicitly asked him about it, never wanted to actually be exposed to whatever things he and the task force did to protect your country. 

But seeing it written down, all the specifics along with the pictures, it was traumatising. 

You hadn’t even realised how much time you’d spent staring at them until Tommy alerted you with a cry, snapping you out of it and forcing you to put the files down (although putting them down anywhere in your house made you feel sick), body shaking and bile rising into your throat once again. 

Obviously, there was no name on the envelope and of course, no return address, so the person who sent the files to you remained a mystery, but it didn’t take a genius to deduce that it was someone who’d been close to everything that had been depicted in them, someone who’d figured out who you were and what relationship you had to the SAS Lieutenant, and either wanted to send some type of message that you were to shook up to decipher or to simply toy with your emotions, all you knew was that somehow, they’d figured out Ghost’s oh-so secretive double life out. 

How, you had no idea. But you did know what that meant. 

You and Tommy were in danger. 

And you didn't know how you were supposed to react. 

Seriously, how?

Everything was too much at once, the files, the pictures, the fear, Tommy, Ghost, you- 

And then he came back. 

Acting like he’d never done anything of what you’d seen, holding your face in those warm hands and being so sweet towards you and your son, conflicting you even more. 

You didn't feel safe anymore, not just around Simon, but in general. And seeing him lean down to pick up Tommy with those hands, those hands that had caused what you’d seen, you just jumped into action, scooping Tommy up before he could reach him and insisting he would need to have a shower before touching him. 

You just couldn’t fathom how a man like that could treat you both with such kindness, how his hands could go from doing that to someone and then holding you softly at night, it was confusing and sickening and all you wanted to do was get rid of everything, go back to before where you had no idea of what happened while he was gone and you could indulge yourself in his touch without that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

How were you supposed to bring up a topic like that to him? How were you supposed to look him in the eyes after that information, hand him the files and receive confirmation that they were in fact real and true? And what would you do? Force him to explain himself like a wife confronting her husband over an affair? This wasn’t anything like that, this was his job, something he’d been doing for ages and needed no explanation, especially to you. What, would you force him to apologise to all the people he’d hurt? 

Of course not. 

But still, you couldn’t just act normal. 

Even if you felt slightly bad. 

Even if he looked at you like that, the way he’d done at the beginning of your relationship.

You… Couldn’t…

You didn’t even process the tears running down your cheeks until he shot up from his spot and his warm hands came into contact with your cheeks, pulling your head up to look at you properly, making you stumble as the exhaustion and overwhelm finally caught up to you. 

He called your name with such confusion and care, despite how mean you’d treated him these past few days, your hands coming up to grab at his arms for stability as he asked you what was wrong, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. 

“Hey, listen t’me, come-”

“I can’t- I’m sorry, I can’t-” You sobbed out, your breathing erratic as you tried your best to stop yourself from crying, but once the dam had been broken, there was no way of fixing it. “Simon-”

“Come ‘ere.” He let go of your face, arms falling to your body and wrapping around you, pulling you into a hug and letting you grab at his shirt, despite that repulsive feeling stirring deep within your chest once again at his touch. “Fuck, lovie…”

“Don’t…” You murmured into his shirt as soon as the pet name had slipped out of his lips, squeezing your eyes closed. 

“What?”

“Don't” You repeated, pushing yourself away from him and taking a few unsure steps back. “I- I can’t I-” You shook your hands as if there were muck on them, confused and anxious as you tried to breathe, spiralling further and further into a panic attack. 

You weren’t really there for what happened next, Simon could tell as he held you almost limp in his arms, trying his best to calm you down from whatever was happening. Panic attacks for the both of you weren’t unnormal, he knew that, you’d both been subject to anxiety for a long time, so this wasn’t completely new, but you fainting from the exhaustion and him having to bring you to bed was. 

And because you were asleep, he had no way of figuring out what had happened, what the cause of this whole mess was and how he could help you through it. 

He’d placed Tommy in the crib you'd brought into your room a few days ago, letting you both take a well-deserved nap while he cleaned up the abandoned food outside. And well, after that, he picked a beer out of the fridge, convinced that he was deserving of one too after everything. But of course, the bottle opener was nowhere to be found, so he was forced to look through all the different drawers in the kitchen and living room until he found it. 

But… He didn’t. Instead, he was greeted with a file envelope messily shoved into one of the cupboards beneath a few pictures of Tommy you’d put up, blank and very much looking like some of the files that they kept back at base. 

He pulled it out, looking down at the drawer that was filled with little trinkets, stones and incense, definitely not the drawer where you’d stick something like this. 

Maybe he should have put it back, but he finally decided against it, pulling the contents out and spilling them across the wooden top of the small cupboard, fear immediately being stricken within him as he laid eyes upon the papers. 

What the actual fuck. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen them, some of these he’d written him fucking self, all the reports for recent missions where he’d been the one to finish off most of the enemy’s team. 

He recognised each and every picture that came along with the textual description, remembered the face and the voice of the person who had been unfortunate enough to meet him during a mission. 

He knew them, he’d had them in his hands at one point, that didn’t fucking explain why you had them. 

A thousand scenarios rushed through his brain as he stared down at them, hands gripping at the edges of the wooden piece of furniture in order to keep himself from breaking his hands from the force he was clenching his fists with, a shaky sigh leaving his lips as his mind went down the deepest rabbit holes to explain why you had this. 

Had you been using him to get inf-

No.

Was this all a game to y-

No!

No, you weren’t… You weren’t a fucking enemy. You weren’t his enemy. You weren’t that type of person. You wouldn’t just fucking babytrap him to get information. 

No one was sick enough for that. 

…right?

“Fuck!” He roared, slamming his hands down onto the wood and staring deep into the picture of the soulless eyes of one of his victims, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. 

No. He wasn’t going to think of you like that. You loved Tommy too much for it all to be an act. He loved y-

Simon raised his hands up to his face to press them into his eyes until he saw flashing lights, trying to calm himself down. 

He turned around as soon as he heard the squeak of the floorboards, furious eyes landing on your dishevelled figure as you clung to the doorframe, staring at him like a deer caught in headlight as you saw what he’d been looking at. 

“Sim-”

“Why do you have this?” A shiver ran throughout your body at the sound of his voice, calm and calculated, like he hadn’t just woken you up with a shout loud enough to shake the building. 

“Si-”

“Answer.” Ghost replied, eyes focused solely on you as you looked down at your feet, a pressure building in your chest as you tried to speak. 

“They were sent to me.” You finally choked out, flinching back as Simon made a move to pick them up, unknowing of the connotations that answer could have.

Silence. 

“Do you really think I’d go out of my way to find those? Do you think I wanted to see you like that- like Ghost?” You started, voice wavering. “Fuck, Simon, those- I couldn’t even look at them a second time, I feel sick just fucking thinking of them!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me!?” He shouted, turning around in a flash and taking a few jarring steps towards you, files all bunched up in his shaking hands. “Why didn’t you think to mention that you were being sent shit like this!?”

“Because I was fucking scared, Simon! I was fucking terrified that this meant that they know who I was, who Tommy is, who he’s related to! That they know about us and therefore can use us as leverage against you! Unlike you, I’m not that fucking desensitised to pain, to whatever you do, to the fear of getting hurt so that they can get to you! I’m not part of the fucking military, I’m just a fucking civillian who is clearly very much in danger thanks to a fucking mistake she made with you!” You screamed, tears streaming down your cheeks and blurring your vision as you shoved a finger into his chest. “So I’m sorry, okay!’ I’m fucking sorry that I was too afraid to bring this up! To bring up the fact I can’t see you the same, that I’m scared Tommy’s going to be hurt and I won’t be able to do anything about it, I’m fucking sorry!”

You let out another sob as you finished, your voice sore and throat dry from letting all of that out. 

“‘M not like you, Simon.”

Fuck.

Everything came crashing down onto him, guilt the only thing weighing Simon down.

“I’m… scared.”

“Of me?” He finally breathed out, raising his free hand to cup your cheek, relief flooding his body as you didn’t move away but immediately being crushed as he saw the fearful look on your face. 

“...I don’t know…”

A beat.

“...Should I be?”

Maybe.

“...I’d never hurt you. I told you once, and I’ll tell you again. You and Tommy are my family, and I’m going to protect you both no matter what. I won't let anyone ever lay a hand on you. You need to know that. The man I’m out there isn’t the same as the one I’m here. But neither of us would hesitate to rip apart whatever bastard is making you feel like this.”

He let the files fall, cupping your face with both hands, shaking you slightly so you got the message to look up at him. 

“I know I can’t undo this, what you’ve seen, what I’ve done, but I want to be here for you. You know I’ll always be here for you.” He said, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I know.” You said, voice breaking. You couldn’t fully express what you were feeling right then, you… you didn’t hate him, it would be impossible to truly hate Simon, after everything he’d done for you; you just needed time and space. His view of you might’ve not changed in the whole time he’d been with you but yours definitely had, and that was normal, considering everything he did. You just couldn’t act like everything was normal after what you’d seen.

“...go back to bed. We’ll talk this out once you’re rested.” He let you go, watching you walk back into your room with a guilty look on your face before turning to his now still beer, the appetite he’d had for one having vanished. 

“...Simon?” You whispered before closing the door, hand clinging onto the wood. 

“Yeah?” He replied, a bit gruffly. 

“...Tommy’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” He repeated, giving you a reassuring look, one he hoped you caught despite the mask. “‘Course he is.”

He watched you hesitate at the door for a split second, almost like you were deciding whether or not to say anything to further the conversation, but seemingly decided against it, closing the door after a quick nod and leaving him in silence. 

Silence. 

Something he used to enjoy before, when he was alone at home or at base with only himself for company, letting him unwind and think about whatever he wanted to. Now, it was overwhelming. 

It felt like every single thought rushing through his brain was out to catch him or hurt him, showing him the most horrific scenarios and ideas of what could happen thanks to whatever fucker had decided to play some sick joke on you. 

Was it even a joke? It could be hundreds of things, a joke, a message, a threat… 

Or just a form of psychological warfare, a way of messing with you and no doubt hoping to distance you from him, to leave him weak and defenceless like the enemy anticipated. That was the more credible reason, even if the mere thought of someone sending you shit like this in hopes of breaking you drove him insane to the point of wanting to catch and dispose of that abstard with his own two hands, ironic considering that those acts of anger and violence had been the whole reason for your dispute. 

It pissed him off to no end. 

But, even though a lot of people would’ve acted on the current emotions rushing through him if they were in his place, Simon knew that focusing solely on finding the bastard wasn’t the most important subject at hand. As much as he wanted this threat on your happiness and safety disposed of, he couldn’t just fuck off and leave you here to deal with the damage and Tommy all on your own. 

He’d repeated it to himself countless times before going on a mission, he was a protector, he was your protector, even if in the future you decided you hated his guts or something happened between you two, you’d always be safe and secure with him, no matter what. 

And so, he swallowed that horrible need for retaliation and picked up his phone, dialling in his captain’s number.

“What’d you do with them?”

“Burnt them.” Simon grunted, wiping away the mess Tommy had made around his mouth. “Best way of disposing shit like that.”

You hummed, clearly out of it, staring at the news playing out on the tv. 

“I told Laswell about it. ‘Said she’d do her best to find out who was the one who made the copies.” 

“Right…” You drummed your fingers against your mug with feigned disinterest, truly not knowing what to say back. 

“And, until whoever it is is caught, I’m not going anywhere.”

That caught your attention. You turned to him with an inquisitive look, confused. “What?”

“Asked her to stop givin’ me missions until they’re sure you’re not in danger.” He clarified, picking Tommy up from his high chair and straddling him to his side. “So I’m here in case anything happens.”

Tommy was carefully handed to you, Simon’s body plopping down onto the sofa next to you a few seats away, his feet coming up to rest on the coffee table as he picked up his own tea. 

“‘That okay? Figured you’d feel better if it was me and not some random guy sent by the SAS. Though Gaz was pretty up for it when asked…” He mumbled the last part, showing you did indeed have an option if you truly didn’t feel safe with him around anymore (his heart stung a bit at the thought of it, but it was what it was), but you soon shut it down with a simple shrug, pulling Tommy closer to you so he could rest his head on your chest, rubbing his back with your free hand. 

“It’s… okay. I’m just going to need some time.”

You were a bit ashamed of how you’d reacted last night when he’d confronted you about the files, but you still stood by everything you said, even if you’d said it a bit too harshly, it didn’t matter. You weren’t like him, after all, you were still afraid of things happening to you and of course, your son, and just needed some time to process what you hadn’t in all the months of knowing Simon: that whether you liked it or not, you would always be tied back to him, even if the mere thought of being hurt just because of who you’d randomly decided to go back home with one night.

“You said something last night.” He began, outstretching a hand towards you both so Tommy could grab at one of his fingers. 

“I said a lot of things last night.” You tried to humour, but stayed quiet as the expression in his eyes didn’t change. 

“You said that you were in danger because of a mistake you made.”

You flinched at the words, biting down on your lower lip as you recalled back to the outburst you’d subjected Simon to last night, that particular part having slipped out in the heat of the moment.

“...did you really mean that?”

“Fuck! Of course not!” You whisper-shouted, not wanting to disturb Tommy any more than you both already had in the last few days, shaking your head to further your point. “No- Fuck, tat- that was so disgusting of me to say. It might’ve been a mistake back then when it first happened-” You saw his shoulders slump slightly, so you moved to grab at the arm he’d put out, catching his attention. “-but I’d never change it. Not for anything in the world. If that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have Tommy, and he- God, Simon, he’s my son, of course he isn’t a mistake, he’s my everything…”

He let out a relieved sigh, nodding along with your words as you both looked down at Tommy, curious big eyes switching between you two as if able to understand the conversation that had just transcurred, giving you a toothless smile. 

Well, not really toothless, since he had been crying for almost a month now due to the pain of his teeth coming in, so there were a few flashes of white across the smile. 

“Yeah, you’re my everything too.”

“Huh?”

You’d expected him to immediately backtrack on his answer and say he was talking to Tommy, but he simply shrugged again, eyes darting from you to Tommy with a fond look reflecting in them as he did everything but take back what he said. “Both of you. Might be corny, but it’s true. I told you.”

His everything.

Simon’s everything. 

That shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did. 

Everything was going to be okay. 

Yeah, it would take some time for you to adjust like you’d told him, but he was okay with that. He’d wait for you.

"Come on, please, wake up."

Simon's hands were shaking, gripping at your lifeless body as if you were the only thing that mattered in the midst of this living nightmare, his mask growing wet as tears formed in the corner of his eyes, his breathing growing erratic as your body slumped in his grasp. 

He called your name desperately, your body shaking in his hold from the way his own hands were trembling and in a feeble attempt at getting you to wake up, to open your eyes, to say his name in that fucking beautiful voice of yours, anything. 

His gloved hands came up to cradle your paling face, running it over your features to rub off the dust and ashes that had stuck to the now drying blood, dropping your body in horror as instead of the grime he wanted to wipe off, he was left with nothing, his hand growing warm as the blood from your now horrifying carcass started to flow. 

He was drowning, he was choking, he couldn't fucking breathe, he couldn't think, you were dead, you were gone, his fucking life didn't have meaning anym- 

Simon jolted up as the pressure that had been building in his chest finally exploded, the dam that had been working so hard to keep his fears at bay breaking, letting the tears that Simon always tried his best to contain out. 

Fuck, it felt like he'd really lived it, like he had held your dying body in his hands as you slowly slipped away from him, like his the recurring fears of him causing your end had come true. 

He felt pathetic, like the broken man he really was, lying on the fucking sofa like always trembling like a little kid, the tears a constant stream down his cheeks, all the emotions and stress from the past few months finally catching up to him.

His breathing was raspy and uneven, reflecting the anxiety rushing through his veins at that very same moment. 

He felt awful, he was awful, an awful, destroyed, broken man who had been tipped over the edge by a stupid fucking dream. 

Someone undeserving of everything you’d given to him. 

He was sure his heart was going to break through his chest with how quickly it was beating against his ribcage, one of his hands coming up to clench at the material of his creased shirt. 

He felt like he was about to pass out. 

His eyesight was blurry, his limbs shaky and his mouth dry, clear indications of the oh-so familiar panic attacks he’d been prone to every since he was a young boy, hat he’d grown enough to know how to control, but he knew that right now, he did not have enough willpower to keep himself from spiralling down into his own thoughts. 

He blindly got up, staggering around the living room as the blanket that had been draped over him pooling onto the floor. He pushed open your door, breaths staggering as his teary eyes made contact with your sleeping body, darting towards the crib right next to your bed where Tommy slept peacefully, making sure to stay quiet as he entered the bathroom. 

He didn’t want to wake you up, to annoy you even more than you already were with him after everything that had happened, despite almost a month having gone by after it all, you deserved rest, you deserved fucking better than h-

His hands gripped the porcelain sink as he stumbled into the room, staring at his uncovered reflection in the mirror, his cheeks red and blotchy from having cried mere moments ago, a few stray tears continuing their pathway down his face. 

He felt ridiculous. 

He was supposed to be some hard willed strong Lieutenant, not the pathetic man who cried at a mere nightmare he really was. 

"...Simon?"

The sound of shuffling sheets reached his ears, your muffled voice coming from beneath the covers as you stirred, his panicked footsteps and the light shining through the crack of the bathroom door enough to wake you from your slumber. 

"'S that you?"

Who else would it be? He wanted to joke, but stayed quiet, hoping you would just go back to sleep. 

But clearly, you weren't satisfied with no answer.

He watched the door open behind him from the mirror, freezing like a deer in headlights as you walked in sporting one of his dirty shirts he'd told you once you could wear, hiding the fact he wanted to see you in his clothes behind the pretence that it would be easier to do laundry, sweatpants (his, as well) tied at your waist so they wouldn't slip down your legs. 

"Simon." You mumbled, eyes barely open and vision blurry as you held onto the door frame for stability, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you yawned. "What's wrong?"

You knew something was off as soon as you'd heard him creep into the bathroom, already knowing from experience that Simon never got up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet, fearing that he'd wake you up like he’d done just now- 

“Nuffin’, lovie. Go back to bed.”

You frowned, squinting at him through swollen eyes, the bright lights from the bathroom and the sleep in them not helping your vision in the slightest, moving your head to rest against the cool wood of the doorframe. “It’s not, though, is it?”

A beat. 

“Simon…” You said, mid-yawn, outstretching a hand to blindly grab at his sleep shirt, tugging at the material. “Tell me.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to not break down like he knew he wanted to, his grip on the sink slowly growing stronger as you stumbled towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing the side of your face to his warm back, giving him a comforting squeeze. 

"I said it's fine." He whispered, hand coming up to yours and attempting to peel it from his body, giving up once it immediately snapped back. 

Part of him wanted you to stay like that, but the other, more reasonable part knew that it would be best if he didn't burden you with his nightmares and if you just went to bed.

"You wouldn't be crying if it was." You murmured, unlinking your hands and running them over his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath his shirt. 

"'Not crying, lovie."

"You have to stop lying to me, Simon. It isn't healthy." You mumbled angrily, pulling yourself away and looking up at him, feeling the blood leave your face as you realised you were staring at the back of his actual head instead of the black material of his balaclava like you'd gotten used to. 

Simon had never explicitly told you that he was uncomfortable with you seeing his face, but you could only assume after all the time he spent with his face obstructed, even with Tommy. 

So you looked down at your feet, making sure to not peek at the mirror like you knew you really wanted to, not wanting to upset him by breaking his trust. 

"...I know." He sighed, turning on the tap and splashing his face with some of the water, finding it a bit humorous that he did it with you still clinging onto him, placing a damp hand over one of yours and giving it a squeeze. 

"Come on…" you sighed, letting go of him reluctantly and turning your body towards the door, flipping the light switch off before blindly outstretching an arm out to him, letting out an amused huff as you immediately met his own hand, pulling him out of the small bathroom and back into the comfort of your room. "Stay?"

"...'course." He breathed out, following you mindlessly as you returned back into your spot in the bed, almost like routine now after all the times you'd brought him to bed with the same comforting hold on his hands, kneeling on the mattress and all but collapsing onto the soft covers, running his hands over them until they met your warm body, running his fingertips over the patch of skin that had been revealed by the rise of your shirt, letting out a shaky breath as your own hands came up to run over his arms.

He fluttered his eyes shut, closing the distance between you to and letting his body fold into your touch, snuggling his face into the valley of your breasts (he thanked whatever god was up there that his shirt was big enough to expose your cleavage, a very welcoming sight), and grasping at your thighs for stability. 

Your arms came to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer into you until he'd grabbed at your legs to wrap around his waist, fingers running through his coarse hair, stopping at the top of his head every few seconds to scratch at his scalp, and if Simon was a cat, he knew damn well he'd be purring right then. 

"It's okay to cry, you know that, right?" You whispered, voice muffled by his hair as you let out a breath, his short hair tickling your cheek from how you'd pressed your face against it. "Better out than in."

"You sound like my mom." He grumbled, pulling a snort out of you as you ran your nails down his nape. "'Always said shit like that."

You stayed quiet, ignoring the nagging feeling in your chest that wanted you to continue on with the conversation, curious for learning more about his mysterious family. 

"'Said'?" You whispered, almost nervous, scared you'd overstepped. 

He stayed silent, only furthering your fear that you'd insulted him until he let out an elongated sigh, hands pulling you impossibly closer as his warm breath hit your skin, face flushing at the reminder that if was his actual face pressing against your cleavage, not the rough material of the painted balaclava. 

"Don' see her as much. Not in the best condition to have a chat. Tommy takes care of her mostly."

"Tommy?" You said in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as your eyes darted over to your son's crib, the glow-in-the-dark stars you'd stuck to the sides of it illuminating it enough to reflect your sleeping son's cute little face.

He froze in your arms as if he'd said something wrong. "My… my brother."

"Your brother's called Tommy?!" You almost shouted, peeling yourself off of him to look down at him (ignoring the slight whine that formed in his throat at the feeling of your body being torn away from his), despite not even being able to see him. 

"Yeah…" he grumbled, trying to pull you back into his arms, frowning as you slapped at his shoulders to catch his attention. 

"That's - Why you reacted like that, right?" You mumbled, thinking back to the night he'd met Tommy for the first time, the way his eyes had gone blank like you'd just reminded him of some painful memory. 

"...his name's Tommy."

You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse. 

"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"

You hadn't thought much about it at the time, since by then, you had more important things to worry about, but now that he'd revealed his brother's name, his shock made sense. 

"Yeah…Was kind of… Tragically funny, lovie." He sighed, running your hands over your waist as you finally pulled him back into your hold. 

"Yeah… I didn't know."

"How could've you? I left before I could even give you my last name." He huffed, rubbing the side of his cheek on your chest. 

Silence filled the room once again, only being broken by the shuffling sounds of the sheets over you or Tommy's occasional whines, continuing your brushing of his hair with your fingers. 

You didn't want to pry further into the topic that had been at hand before you'd interrupted, squeezing your eyes closed as you inhaled his shampoo, shivering beneath his touch as he ran his fingers around your belly button. 

"She's in a home. Near where I grew up. Nice one. I only talk to her on the holidays." He started, running them up to the space below your breasts. "It's better that way. Tommy's the nicer one of us."

"Didn't he used to terrorise you?" You teased, trying to lighten the mood, letting out a cry as he licked a stripe up your clavicle, no doubt grinning into the darkness as you slapped his head. 

"Going to stop telling you things from now on if you insist on using them against me in the future, lovie." He murmured, pressing a kiss to where he'd just licked as an apology, ignoring the way your skin grew warmer beneath his touch. "But… he's cleaned his act up. Not as much as a cunt. Probably afraid I could rip him in two, now."

You snorted, hesitantly pushing his bangs back to press a kiss to his forehead, almost giggling at the pleased hum that left his lips. "Si… you, uh… want to talk about why you were crying?"

Simon noticeably tensed beneath your touch as you brought up the whole reason as to why he was in your bed, another breath hitting your skin. 

He thought about lying to you once again, but finally decided against it, throwing a glance at his son over his shoulder as if the boy would understand the next words that would come out of his mouth. 

"Just… a stupid nightmare. You… I jus’ wanted to make sure you were safe. I didn't mean to wake you, really." He let out all in a string pulled together by one breath, hands coming down to grab at your thighs and rub at them through the material of your bottoms, letting out a shaky sigh as you moved them to wrap around his body. "Fuckin' stupid, isn't it?"

"It's not stupid if it affected you this much, Si…" You tried, not wanting to pry further into the contents of the nightmare, but still not wanting to drop the subject all together. “Even the strongest people need a shoulder to cry on.”

You cupped his face, bringing it off your chest, looking down at what you could only assume to be his face. 

“Let me be yours.”

You didn’t move as he shuffled closer to you, running your thumbs over his cheekbones as he leaned closer into you, feeling his warm breath hit your face. 

“Mine?” He mumbled, your hair standing on edge as you felt his lips brush against yours ever so slightly. 

“Mhm… Yours.” You breathed out, nodding as if he could see you. 

Heat rushed to your face as soon as his lips crashed into yours, swallowing the moan you let out as his hands moved beneath your shirt, tightening at your waist. 

And God, did it feel right. 

Nothing had ever felt as right as this did right then, the feeling of his lips slotted against yours and his hands seemingly everywhere on your body, causing you to go near dizzy and drunk on his touch. 

“Fuck, love.” He said between kisses, moving you onto your back so he was hovering over you properly, leaning down to catch your lips back into a passionate kiss, not even giving you the chance to breathe or let out your own moans, immediately swallowing up each and any sound you made. 

His hands came down to your thighs, helping you wrap them around his waist before he moved away to press pecks along your jawline, moving further down until he was leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all over your upper chest, his stubble tickling your skin. 

“S-Sim-”

He shushed you, sucking on the pressure point of your neck, pressing closer to you as you let out another breathless whine, his eyelashes brushing against your skin from the way he's snuggled his face into the crook of your neck, almost as if he was trying to have you impossibly close to him. 

He stayed there for a few minutes, covering your neck in kisses and love bites, answering with a “markin’ my territory” and a chuckle when you asked why he was so adamant on kissing you everywhere but where you needed it the most, his hands doing wonders as they went over your shirt to cup one of your breasts, immediately surprising you both my the loud moan that left you. 

“I-”

“Christ, lovie. That fuckin’ sensitive? Barely even touched you and you’re moaning like that?” He huffed out in amusement, leaning upwards in hopes of laying his eyes on the mess he’d left across your skin only to be met with darkness, grunting as he raised a hand to run over the marks, feeling the indents from his teeth around your neck. 

“It’s- It’s been a while, Si-” You mumbled out of embarrassment, thankful for the darkness since it was the only thing keeping you from fully breaking down from the shame of being so sensitive after a single touch, but you couldn’t really be blamed. 

It’d been almost a year and a half since you’d last indulged in any type of self-pleasure, the last time ironically being the night you’d spent with Simon before his mission, it was no wonder a simple brush of his warm hand to your breast had you writhing and moaning like a bitch in heat, you basically were. 

“Hm…” He grunted, leaning down to press some kisses along your flushed cheeks, still purposefully avoiding your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he thought of what to do next. “...I want to see you.”

What?

“Properly.”

You felt his lips brush against yours slightly, knowing full well how titillating he was being. 

“Wh-”

“Turn the light on.”

You froze. 

You were staring up at the darkness of your ceiling, letting out soft breathless sounds as he leaned back down to continue kissing your neck, letting the words he’d just spoken sink in, letting out a chuckle against your ear after a minute or so passed. 

“Go.”

You acted on instinct only, stretching your body over to the lamp on your bedside table with the little space he had given you, the man still insisting on having his hands all over your body, your mind and thoughts reeling. 

It would’ve been different if he had his mask on, the small request would have been just for him to see the marks he’d left on you, to continue whatever you’d started in the light so you’d both be able to see your body’s reactions properly, but this was oh so much more than that. 

He didn’t seem to want to make a move to go get his mask or to cover his face, he was actually telling you to turn on the light so you could see him, see his face, his eyes, his nose, his lips, Simon

As soon as your shaking hand found the switch and had pressed it, your eyes closed in time for the room to be filled with light, a nervous sound leaving your lips as Simon pulled you back into place, his calloused fingers running over the length of your nose before poking at the middle of your furrowed brows. 

“Y’can open them.” He whispered, his own voice sounding slightly terrified. “Please.”

“What if you’re ugly?” You blurted out as a joke, trying to lighten the mood, immediately slapping yourself mentally the moment he didn't laugh, opening your mouth to apologise only for him to poke you again. 

“Jus’ open them.”

The first thing your eyes landed on was the smile pulling at his lips, leading them from the scar that adorned the left corner of his mouth past his crooked nose and up to those beautiful eyes of his, his blond eyelashes framing them perfectly like always. 

And fuck… He was beautiful. 

The stubble covering the lower part of his face, the scars littering his face telling stories and tales of all his time on duty, his cracked lips and scarred nose only complementing his beauty even more. 

It was everything and nothing like you’d expected, it was just… him. 

You didn't know what to say, what were you supposed to? But by the way his smile grew bigger at the sight of your dumbfounded face, you were sure that your expression told him everything he needed to know. 

Now, Simon knew that he wasn’t the worst looking person, but the way you were staring at him like he was a god incarnates, like Persephone herself had given him a piece of her beauty, it didn’t fail to tint his cheek a soft pink, quickly leaning into you to meet you in another kiss in hopes of hiding how flustered he was from you. 

“Mhf-” You tried speaking as soon as you had regained consciousness through his kisses, a giggle leaving your lips as he gave you no time to speak. “You’re- Mm- S- so pretty, Si-”

Pretty? He thought to himself as he continued his kissing assault, the adjective a very foreign concept, never having been referred to in that way in his life. But, it did feel nice when you said it, the way you were looking at him with that sultry gaze as the compliment oozed out of your mouth like honey, it had him grabbing at your thighs for stability, wrapping them around his waist and letting you make contact with the product of your make-out session and cute words. 

“F-fuck!” You mewled, grabbing at the back of his head for stability, tugging at the roots of his dirty blond hair, shivering underneath him as he let out a breathy groan, the sound sending pleasurable shocks down to where you both were connected, despite the amount of clothes that separated you both. “W-Wait- Hng!”

He stopped as soon as the word left your mouth, pulling back and moving his hands to hold your waist, giving you some time to regain your breath before asking. 

“‘vrything okay?” He said breathlessly, looking down at your equally dishevelled state, your lips red and sore from all his kissing and body littered with all the marks he’d left, taking a few seconds to admire his handiwork and how truly fucking perfect you looked covered in his claims before going back to waiting on you. 

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed, breathing and heart pulse erratic, coming down from the sudden pleasure. “I- I’m sorry, I just don’t know if I want to continue- Sor-”

“It’s okay.” He interrupted you, grabbing your thighs and pulling them away from their spot around his waist, pushing them together and placing them away from him, placing a comforting hand on the one that was still pressed next to his. “We don’t have to. Whatever y’want, love. ‘S been a long time, I get it.”

You nodded, sending him a small smile that he returned in an instant, leaning up to press a final kiss to his lips, thankful that he’d understood your fears so quickly. 

“You’ll stay, right?” You mumbled against his lips after pulling away slightly, looking at his through half-closed eyes, his deep beautiful pools staring back at you. 

“Always.”

His arms wrapped around you from behind once you situated yourself back in the bed, arms pressed tight and securely against our stomach as his thumb rubbed over the skin, a constant reminder that he was there and that you were safe like he’d promised, soft kisses being pressed against your nape from behind, a sweet contrast to the bites that now littered your front. 

“‘You going to wear the mask again?” You spoke drowsily, turning your head slightly so his lips pressed against your cheek, his breath tickling your ear. 

“Not unless you want me to.” He mumbled back, half-asleep. 

“Rather you did… Can’t focus with that ugly mug of yours…” You teased, letting out a high pitched yell as he bit down onto the space between your neck and shoulder, immediately soothing the pain with a kiss and a chuckle. 

“Only mug you’ll se ‘round here, lovie, better get used to it.”

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!🩷

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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🫣

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georgerussel63: crikey!

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

lewishamilton: 😆😆