Daniel Riccardo X Reader - Tumblr Posts

meet mars!!

“whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same”

8teen - leo - bi - indian - she/her

current hyperfixation: f1! (specifically CL16, CS55, LN4, MV1 and DR3)

i’ll mostly be reblogging fics i love (and maybe even doing fic recs :) )

dms are always open, chat to me abt anything and everything <33

Very excited for this!!

Blind Items (An F1 Series)

A new wave of rumors has hit the paddock about everyone's beloved drivers! 1. Teen Dad (OP81) 2. Vegas weddings (WIP)

3. To be revealed!

Requesting info! I will write for any of the drivers for these blind items. Problem is I only have so many ideas so if any of you have any specific drivers with specific scenarios you would like to see just send it to me!

Love of my life | D.R.

Daniel Ricciardo x younger!reader

Summary: What happens when you confess your profound love to the person whose heart you broke? How fragile is the hope of reconciliation?

Warnings: comforting angst??? (idk even im in my feels)

Word count: ~1.2K

^^

“Hiding from me?” the velvety voice behind you felt more familiar than you’d like it to.

“Should I?” you turned your eyes away from the dark ocean before you and met his eyes. Gosh he looked handsome and you could feel your body react to him, still the same as it was, gentle shock waves weaving through your fingertips.

“God I hope not…” he sat down beside you on the straw beach furniture. You were trying to keep your gaze on the horizon of the ocean where water seemed to bleed into the dark night sky and become one.

You could hear him take a deep breath, it was shaky and an uncomfortable feeling settled in your gut as if foreseeing that his following words would remind you of something you had been trying to keep buried for the last 5 months.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight…” he spoke out softly, his eyes on your silhouette, encaged by the silver glory of the full moon you looked untouchable. And he knew that you were untouchable to him, no matter how much his palms seemed to have thoughts of their own and wished to just reach out to you, and relish in the touch of your silky skin just like he’d done months ago.

“Why not? You know I didn’t attend all those parties just because of you,” you held your stare stoic, letting yourself get lost in the starry night sky, counting the stars only so you’d hold yourself back from latching on the man sitting beside you.

Nothing could have you forget the day you’d met him. Ironically it was a party that you had only attended because you were dying to catch a glimpse of the charming man that he was. Luckily, at least that’s what you thought at that very moment, you had caught his eye and soon enough you were carrying his heart in your hands and he was carrying yours. Although now after everything, you believe you might have been wrong about the later…

“Y/n… I just want to say-”

“Please don’t say it, don’t apologize again,” you turned to him almost instantly which left him speechless, your eyes sparkling in the moonlight reminiscent of the various jewels he used to clasp around your neck and the supple kisses he’d leave there throughout the day, but the jewels that adorned your eyes now weren’t a consequence of a blissful time together, “I will not hear it again… I do not need to be reminded of that… time”, you lowered your head trying to catch your breath and the lonely tears from falling.

“Baby,” he kept his hands secured in tight fists, too easy to lose control now that he could see tears escaping out of your eyes and cascading down your cheeks. He still remembers the salty streaks from the last time he’d been this close to you. How could he ever forget when the pain he’s been carrying in his chest for so long never denied itself. You had given his heart back to him, but you sure took a piece of it for yourself before that, though how could he blame you when he had done the same… to have the smallest part of you and suffer rather than have no memory of you was and would always be Daniel’s first and only choice.

“Daniel,” your eyes traveled back to his warm eyes, the same one’s that had made you all the promises of a perfect tomorrow. One that never came. One that you still let yourself dream about whenever the air smelled like the cologne you’d gifted him, the one he was still wearing now…

Looking at him you wished you could hate him, you wished to be physically repulsed by the man in front of you, maybe that would help you walk away now and continue living as you once had. Striving for the brightest most delightful future, without looking back at the old dark days, but he has possessed your mind, you can no longer make a step without seeing him there, what if’s about the past clouding your future. How could he sit there and give you those eyes… those gorgeous sad eyes. You bit back your lip. You could no longer kiss his sad eyes and see them light back up after.

“Y/n… you were the love of my life,” he accepts the torture that is to come his way, he knows he deserves it for the crime he just committed. Tears were fully running down your cheeks now, large droplets falling into the sand beneath your feet and disappearing right away, like they were never there…

“Why are you doing this to me, Daniel?” you instinctively covered your face with your palms as sobs made your shoulders tremble, hiding the tears from him even if he’s seen them already. You hated nothing more than for him to see you cry.

“I just… I felt that you had to know, because I never told you how much I actually loved you. I treated you so wrong for a very long time and I am to blame for that… I was the shitty older guy who took advantage of someone who didn’t know what she was doing…”

“That was the problem, Daniel. You always viewed me as a child…I am young, but I am not a kid and I can make decisions for myself. You might regret me, but I know the choices I made and I have no remorse over them,” your heart ached. How unfortunate is it to meet the love of your life and understand that they never truly saw you as their equal.

“The only thing I regret is not doing more to get to know you and… leaving you behind… I was in the wrong, so please do not cry darling…” his voice sounded so different, he was breaking from the inside out seeing you this way. He leaned closer to you, his warm palms encompassing your wrists to reveal your face to him.

Two pairs of teary eyes stared into one another.

The both of you took in a shaky breath in, which finally broke the suffocating tension and helped your lips ease into a simple smile. Daniel wiped at your cheeks, his touch ghostly light, removing the salty puddles, before gracing your forehead with an effortless kiss.

“I’m sorry too, Daniel,” you leaned back just so you could once again let yourself go and drown in his warm eyes, completely forgetting your morals and bringing back the buried feelings you couldn’t not tell him, “You were also the love of my life…”

Now it was Daniel’s turn to let the tears flow. And he did. He wished he had you, all of you, he wished to cry on your shoulder whenever a race went wrong, he wished to have your attentive hands run through his curls and soothe him when the air seemed to get too heavy. Most importantly he wished he had said it sooner, the short ‘L’ word, because if he had, you’d be home, tangled in bed together with big tranquil smiles on your faces.

Instead you two were crying on a beach together, reminiscing on what would have been if it could have been. But it was enough for Daniel, even if he was crying, at the very least he was crying with you… the love of his life…

^^

A.N. loving older men is not a hobby, it's a lifestyle<3

formula one ✩ m.list

# ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ :: cl¹⁶

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙᴏᴛᴛʟᴇ :: Finally feeling familiar with the heartbreak and love songs she has composed, the world's golden girl discovers that love is trickier than it looks—even more so when it comes in the form of a green-eyed Monégasque.

ᴅɪꜱᴇᴀꜱᴇ : ᴘᴀʀᴀɴᴏɪᴅ :: The fact that you have to work as a Formula One driver's assistant for your final college grade is not the worst of your problems; the true issue is that no one told you that you would become a emotional support human for him.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ :: Monaco is the jewel in the crown, a world of expensive cars, casinos, and sheer luxury that conceals the true reason for its name; who imagined that a night of joy would finish with blood on your hands.

# ᴄᴀʀʟᴏꜱ ꜱᴀɪɴᴢ :: cs⁵⁵

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

# ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ :: mv¹

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴅɪꜱᴇᴀꜱᴇ : ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ :: Who would have thought that a mistake on your application could cost you your dream job? And that in the end you would end up as an assistant to a one time world champion struggling to control his anger issues.

# ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ ʀɪᴄᴄɪᴀʀᴅᴏ :: dr³

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

# ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ :: ln⁴

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ :: After discovering that he is in love with his best friend, Lando is determined and will do everything he can to prove to her that he is the right man for her. [ coming soon ]

ᴅɪꜱᴇᴀꜱᴇ : ʟᴜꜱᴛ :: After graduating from college, you land a job assisting a Formula One driver, but nobody told you that this particular driver would be an absolute nightmare and that your job would basically consist of babysitting him.

# ᴏꜱᴄᴀʀ ᴘɪᴀꜱᴛʀɪ :: op⁸¹

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴅɪꜱᴇᴀꜱᴇ : ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ :: Being hired as his assistant to help him during his second year in Formula One, you discover that the reason he has trouble expressing what he wants is not that he lacks the ability to do so, but that he is too prideful to do so.

# ʟᴇᴡɪꜱ ʜᴀᴍɪʟᴛᴏɴ :: lh⁴⁴

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

# ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ʀᴜꜱꜱᴇʟʟ :: gr⁶³

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

# ᴘɪᴇʀʀᴇ ɢᴀꜱʟʏ :: pg¹⁰

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

# ꜱᴇʙᴀꜱᴛɪᴀɴ ᴠᴇᴛᴛᴇʟ :: sv⁵

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

# ᴍɪᴄᴋ ꜱᴄʜᴜᴍᴀᴄʜᴇʀ :: ms⁴⁷

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

# ᴀʟᴇx ᴀʟʙᴏɴ :: aa²³

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ʀᴀᴅɪᴏ :: the disease series! all drivers have one, and the reader is always an assistant!

© mrslestappen :: please do not copy my work!

Judge me, but I think I'm going to start writing for f1 👀.

Send me requests!

Oh, and for TUA too.

I'M SO CONFUSED, HELP ME!

I'm so demanding with my own writing, it has to be perfect otherwise I can't post it 😭😭😭

I have so many things with Five, Ben and others in my drafts, but in my opinion it's not good enough yet. 💔

A/n: I already have practically everything ready for Lando X Y/n X Daniel 👀

Upcoming fics!

"What's your top three?" | F1 X Driver!Reader

Irresistible | Lando X Y/n X Daniel Riccardo

Y/n's birthday | F1 Version

Retirement | Five Hargreaves

Interview | Aidan Gallagher

"who's in your top three for hotness in f1?"

✦ Summary: Y/n interviews some fellow drivers to find out who they think are the hottest in F1

✦ Pairing: F1 grid X Driver!Reader

✦ Characters: George Russel, Lando Norris, Toto Wolff, Daniel Riccardo, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz and Y/n

A/n: I want to publish this for dayslol. Sorry, English is not my first language.

I found these gifs here, but I couldn't give credit, I'm sorry 😭😭

"So George, who's in your top three for hotness in f1?"

"Just like that?" He says laughing to his friend who laughs along.

"Yes, let's answer that."

"Okay, hmm... I'll take first place, of course, second place I'll give it to you and... Lewis will take third place."

"At least I won second place." Y/n laughs and George agrees.

"I know some who will say your name for first place." He speaks with a mischievous smile.

"Who?" Y/n furrows her eyebrows and George rolls her eyes, smiling.

He approaches Y/n, which moves the microphone away from the body, George speaks in her ear, placing his hands in front of her face so others can't read his lips.

Y/n's eyes widen when she hears the big list her friend is making, this scene would generate memes for a long time.

"That's enough George!" Y/n says pushing the pilot who laughs at her reaction.

"Fact, Those are facts!" He says laughing and Y/n can't help but laugh along

"These are not facts, thank you for giving us a little bit of your time Mr Russel.

George smiles and waves to the camera.

"Okay, let's try to find more pilots" Y/n says walking a little and the Cameramen follow her.

"Look, it's Lando, let's go... Landoooo!" Lando is distracted talking but smiles when he sees who was calling.

"Hi kitten." He says approaching Y/n and gives a slight smile to the camera.

"please tell us, what is your top three beauty in f1?" Y/n puts the microphone in Lando's mouth who seems very surprised.

"Okay, I think... I think Carlos will take third, I'll put myself in second and... You can take first place." Lando says awkwardly.

"I'm surprised Carlos isn't first."

"No, he is to be first for Ferrari friends." Y/n can't help but laugh at this.

"Or Williams friend" They talk at the same time and laugh about it.

"Thanks for that Lando, see you later." Y/n says laughing a little and leaves in search of more pilots.

"Oh look at Toto guys, let's go!" Y/n says excitedly and runs to him, before anyone pulls him to do something.

"Oh my God, no..." Toto says jokingly when he sees Y/n approaching smiling.

"Yes, Toto, I have a question that your answer will totally change our lives today." Y/n says trying to stay serious.

"I highly doubt it."

"Well... who's in your top three for hotness in F1?" Toto looks at her in disbelief.

"No, you didn't just-"

"Yes, I did, come on we need answers."

"I refuse to answer that.

"Yes you don't need to answer, we know that Christian horner It's in first place." Toto looks at Y/n in complete disbelief.

"What the fuck-"

"Please, this is a family atmosphere sir." Toto passes his hand over his face trying not to visualize a murder for Y/n.

"Don't you have anything else to do?"

"You're right, I should be looking for younger pilots, bye Toto!" Y/n says, moving away, and Toto smiles.

"That girl is terrible"

"Is there anyone in particular you want to talk to?" Y/n asks looking at the Cameramen.

"Maybe-" He is interrupted before he can finish.

"s/nl/n!!" They look and see Daniel Ricciardo coming with his typical smile.

"Daniel Riccardooooo!" Y/n smiles and Daniel comes to hug the pilot, rocking them both from side to side.

"Are you the reporter today?" he says, letting go of her and messing up her hair that he had messed up during the hug.

"I'm the reporter today, and since you're here, you'll be my victim."

"Oh no!" he jokes and they both laugh.

"So Danny, who's in your top three for hotness in f1?" Daniel smiles and looks up at the sky thinking for a bit.

"You can have all three seats, Sweet baby." The people around listening scream at this and Y/n really didn't expect that response.

"You can't do this!" She says, pushing him lightly.

"Oh I already did that!" He continues smiling at her embarrassment.

"Please Danny give us another answer." She begs her friend who shakes his head.

"No, this is my final decision."

"Okay, okay, we'll accept this today, thanks for the embarrassment Danny." She jokes and he hugs her again and she starts to walk away with the Cameramen.

"Love you!" He says watching her walk away.

"Love you too!"

"Okay, let's continue... who were you going to talk about before?" Y/n said as remembered that him was interrupted by Daniel.

"Charles Leclerc."

"Oh yes, Charles Leclerc, let's go after him." Y/n said walking faster and more objectively this time.

"Have you seen that video of the boy calling Charles? We can try that." Y/n says laughing and the Cameramen smiles along. "Oh no need, there's the man." Y/n approaches Charles, and touches his shoulder to get his attention.

"Mr. McQueen, would you like to answer some of our questions?" Y/n puts the microphone right in Charles' mouth who pretends to bite it.

"Do you still call me that?" He says laughing and hugging her by the shoulders.

"Yes forever, now... can you tell us your top three for the most handsome in F1?" Charles thinks for a moment and smiles at the camera.

"Well-"

"Of course I'm in first place, then Y/n and last, you, right Charles?" Carlos says, joining the conversation and appearing on the other side, making Y/n stand between the two.

"Why do you think you're number one on my list?" Charles says raising his eyebrows.

"Because I'm number one in your heart." Y/n looks at the camera rolling her eyes.

"Would that be your list Carlos?" Y/n says bringing the microphone closer to Carlos.

"No, you're at the top of my list hermosa"

"Ass kisser" Chalés says with a fake cough.

"What's your list Charles?" Y/n says turning the microphone to Charles.

"Okay, I'm first, Y/n is second and I'm going to put Pierre third." Carlos' eyes widen.

"Fuck you Chales!"

"WE'RE IN A FAMILY ENVIRONMENT!"

"At least I know I'm number one on Lando's list." Y/n looks at the camera, her mouth clenched shut to keep from laughing.

"Absolutely Carlos, absolutely." She pats Carlos on the shoulder, who doesn't understand.

"What does that mean?" Carlos looks serious and Y/n smiles mischievously.

"Nothing Carlitos, nothing..."

"And your list Y/n?" Charles smiles.

"No, I'm just the reporter today."

"Let's go there, we want to know." Chales says trying to take the microphone from Y/n's hand.

"Stop it Charles!" Y/n says pulling the microphone back, and the two start a playful fight.

"Stop kids." Carlos says trying to take Y/n's hands away from Charles' hair.

This will get a lot of views

"well, we'll end it here, but maybe we'll do a part two with the other pilots, thanks for watching, bye." Y/n smiles and waves to the camera Along with Carlos and Charles.

"And... cut!"

"I love you Y/n."

"I love you too Charles."The two hug, and Carlos rolls his eyes.

"I don't get paid for this." Carlos sighs.

Bonus - Some comments that were published.

User1 "I wonder who George was talking about..."

User2 "I wish I had what she and Charles have...

User3 "Someone to pull your hair?"

User4 "I think Lando likes her"

Are you telling me that the story I created in my head won't write itself?

Requests are open, darlings!

Come on, show me what you've got.

Oh, and just so you know, I'm writing for The Last of Us right now.

my man isn’t creepy! i | f1 grid

growing up leclerc au !

fem! leclerc! reader x f1 grid, leclerc family

part i: carlos sainz, daniel ricciardo, oscar piastri, pierre gasly & kika gomes

synopsis. when the youngest leclerc finds her partners’ ‘shrine’ of her, but she’s a leclerc so the red flags aren’t all that red

WARNING(s); i like em crazy y’all, obsessive/possessive behavior, implied stalking/shrines, unhealthy relationship dynamics, sexual implications but no smut

carlos sainz.

“What is it?” You asked, head tilted to the side as you look up at your boyfriend. The Spaniard melted, muttering a curse to himself and running his hands through his thick hair. He felt hot, nervous for what the outcome of this discussion could be.

“Dios mío, ángel, it’s— it is not what you think— nothing bad. I am just embarrassed is all.” He reassured, big hands gripping at your shoulders. But he knew it was a bit bad, even his enabling family members were worried he’d freak you out if you saw. His movements were made to comfort you, but you could tell they were more self-soothing. Arthur had a similar habit whenever you got upset with him, too.

You only frowned, but it fueled Carlos’ panic.

“Mi amor, I will do whatever you ask-! You know this. I will let you in when it’s cleaned, I swear it.” He pulled you into his chest, arms fully embracing you. But you squirmed out of his hold, making him respond with an unhappy attempt to coo you back into comfort.

“You’re hiding something in there, Carlos. This is the first time I’m staying with you in your home since we started dating, let me see.” And at the sight of your big, beautiful, angry eyes, how could he refuse an Angel? With a twitch of his fingers, Carlos unlocked the door without any movement to push it open.

With a short huff, you pushed yourself through the door, only pausing at seeing at the sheer amount of merchandise that covered every surface. It was all you-themed, from posters and cut-outs, down to a body-pillow and even an outfit you’d only worn once for a runway show. There was a glass shelf with your old perfumes, newer ones too, and photos everywhere.

“Carlos….” You began, covering your mouth with your fingers and stepping further in.

“I know—! But I liked you so much before we started seeing each other and I- I am just a passionate man is all, my whole family says so—!” You cut off his red-faced rambling with a beaming grin.

“Ouah! I didn’t know you were a super fan before we met!” You giggled, mumbling to yourself in French about the various things he’d collected. “maybe you are a bit extreme, but it’s kind of cute, no?”

“¿En serio? Sí, mi perla!” He breathed shakily before grinning, “I should have known you’d understand! Mis hermanas se burlaron de mí, ¿sabes? But it was all silly…” (You’re serious? Yes, my pearl! My sisters teased me, you know?)

“What are you saying? Your sisters… something? I’m still learning, mon chéri.” You pout at him, in a much better mood now that you knew what your boyfriend was hiding behind the door he seemed so desperate to keep you away from.

He shook his head, hair messy after having run his fingers through it many times due to stress, “We should have dinner with them tonight while we’re still in Spain, I said. Let’s go back downstairs?”

“Why? Got anything weird?”

“Don’t say things like that, amor!”

♤ ♤ ♤

daniel ricciardo.

“Danny…?”

“Shit-!” He jumped out of surprise, dropping the box he was reaching from the top shelf of the closet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, mon soleil!” You squeaked, jumping back as well. You hadn’t meant to scare him, but it wasn’t your fault he was so focused in the dead of night. You were just curious is all. The box he dropped was was rectangular in shape, but easily bigger than a shoebox. You shot him a sleepy grin, “What do you have there?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “Why are you up, sleepy girl? Get back to bed, I’ll be right there. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m up because you’re up.” You wrinkled your nose, inching closer to him with a small blanket in your arms. You tried to get a glimpse of what fell out of the box, but Daniel wrapped himself around you so you couldn’t see. He wrestled the blanket from your fingers, careful not to be rough with long nails, and threw it over your head with smile.

As you wrestled, your boyfriend only laughed and placed kisses on any part of you he could without being hit by your flying limbs, “Pretty things like you should be asleep. Your brothers would kill me if they knew I disturbed your beauty rest.”

“Are you trying to hide something from me?” You pulled the blanket off your head, hair a mess.

Daniel froze, jaw clenching as he tried to hold a toothy smile. But he didn’t have it in him to lie to you. The moment was completely still, before you finally broke eye contact and crept passed him to see the mess on the floor. You could hear Danny gulp as you plucked the first item from the ground; a pretty, navy blue set of lacy underwear. Yours, yes. But from ages ago, you swore you lost them. Then there were a few pieces of jewelry, a lipstick tube, a silk scrunchie, a press-on nail, a red heel, and two pieces of now-hardened chewing gum. All yours from various points of this past year.

“Daniel,” no, not the first name, he begged internally, squeezing his eyes shut, deciding to just wait for the inevitable disgust and rejection. You never called him by his full first name, only sweet ‘danny’s his way, sometimes ‘mon soleil’ or ‘sunshine’.

“You know you can just ask for my things, yes? You don’t have to take.” You were looking right up at him, navy colored panties still in your hand like you didn’t even mind that he took them. His reasoning couldn’t have been pure, you know that.

You hummed, pulling at his fingers so you can shove the underwear into his balled up fist, “lá.”

“Perfect girl.” He muttered, pulling you back into him and dragging you to bed, “give me the pair you have on then, yeah?”

♤ ♤ ♤

max verstappen.

It wasn’t always like this with you— you used to be just Charles “track terror” Leclerc’s pretty little sister, a little girl. But now it was years later and you’ve become something perfect and irresistible— something he can’t live without. He knows he’d resorted to some immoral, if not a little creepy, behaviors, but it’s not like he’s one of those guys that would ever hurt you. No, you’re a deity to him. He told his sister about his feelings at one point (even thought about showing her the shrine), but she told him— “This is all because you watched You!” The Netflix show that follows a stalker.

So he took down the shrine— moving most of it into his bedside drawer and the rest under his bed. But he realized he didn’t think it all the way through when he had you in his room for the first time; all pretty and perfect and curious.

“Good race, Maxie.” You hopped back onto the bed, your hair bouncing as you landed, “You’re so tense and for what, huh?”

Max had just a little bit of shame about the whole thing, but maybe not too much. I mean, his body definitely felt some kind of physical guilt or something if you’re judging him by the shaking and sweating— but his mind was happy. You were here with him in his home. In fact, the physical reaction might just be from seeing you curled up in his bed. But you’re close to finding out how… intense he was. (As his mother would say.)

“Sorry, lief, I’m just tired and you’re distracting me by being cute.” He smiled down at you as he began to change, “you need a shirt to wear?”

“Yes, s'il te plaît. Hey, can I put my bracelets in here—? oh!” He’d barely turned his back for a second, just long enough to remove his shirt, but that’s all it took for you to pull the drawer open and see the copious amount of photos of you (some edited to have him in them) and unsent love letters.

“It’s not a shrine— I’m not a creep! It’s just some things I made back before we got together—! You weren’t supposed to see them!” He was trying to shove some of the papers back in, but you were already skimming one of the letters.

“Mijn hart,” he winced at seeing the one you had— one of the more unhinged ones. The worst of it was in Dutch, so that worked out for him at least.

“Oh c’mon, Maxie! It’s kind of sweet! You had such a big crush on me! It’s a little hot, even.”

He grew even more red and fidgety at that, “Shit.”

You giggled at the words you could understand before he wrestled the page out of your grip. You grabbed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he could stray too far.

“From Max Verstappen-Leclerc, hm?”

♤ ♤ ♤

oscar piastri.

“Can’t I just grab a hoodie, Osc?” You questioned as he held you in place on the counter, from his spot between your legs, still in his race suit.

“You don’t need one, Lovey, it’s hot.” He pressed himself into you so he could feel you breathe better. You’d asked for a jacket the moment you’d entered his freezing trailer just after the race. He saw you go for the closet and quickly redirected you onto the counter.

“Non, you’re hot because you just raced in a little car for hours and now you’re all over me. I am normal temperature.”

“Cold?”

“Yes.”

“Then get closer, I’m hot.”

You huff obnoxiously like the pretty spoiled girl you are and Oscar can feel the rush of serotonin he got just from the sound. He knew this is the part where you’d get cute and pretend to pick a fight, his sweet thing. But bad timing— he’s desperate to hide his secret now.

“I can’t get any closer to you if I trieddd. What? You have a girl hiding in that closet? Hm?” He scoffed into your shoulder, but stiffened, knowing just what was behind that door.

You gasped dramatically, likely playing it up to get what you wanted (a tactic you used with your brothers, Oscar noticed), “You do! Irréelle!”

“I don’t!” His face shot up from your shoulder, brows furrowed, but he didn’t let you go, “You know I don’t like any other girls!”

“Then you need to show me so I can be sure! And I’m still cold.” You crossed your arms and pulled your knees together to get him to back up.

“I can’t.” He choked out. “There’s— it’s just— I have this thing—”

You hopped down and booked it across the trailer before he could reach out and stop you, yanking the door open to see what your new boyfriend was hiding.

You breathed out a dramatic sigh of relief at the sight, “Goodness, Osc.” Rather than finding a person, you instead found some sort of… collection? Collage of yourself and your things? Photos mostly, magazines, and lots of hearts drawn on articles about you.

Oscar grabbed you by the shoulders and quickly spun you around into him, slamming the door, “You saw?”

Looking up at him with big eyes, you nodded, “Yeah, why? You really like me that much?”

“What? Yes— yeah I do. You—? Okay.”

♤ ♤ ♤

pierre gasly. | kika gomes.

“I’m prepared to blame you for this if Charles finds it.” Pierre breathed, looking at the start of his girlfriend’s collection of your things. Kika scoffed, a smile playing at her lips as she re-organizes your makeup. Mostly lip balms, you’d let her borrow some of your things, not knowing she wasn’t going to give any of it back. Kika even managed to get a few skirts from you as well. The small framed photo of you sitting in her vanity was just a personal touch.

Pierre would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, but he could say he wasn’t surprised. He and Kika were a good couple, a good duo in general, but especially when it came to drawing you in. Because Pierre was such a good friend to Charles, it came pretty easy; Charles was easier on him around you. Unfortunately, that grace didn’t extend to Kika just because they were dating. Charles had something of a sixth sense for when pretty girls liked his pretty sister; so he was on to Kika. Where at the beginning it was nothing to get you alone with them, it was now next to impossible.

“Pierre? Kika? Are you home?” Wow it’s like they could hear your pretty voice— oh wait they gave you a key. To their apartment. In Monaco, where you live and you can really just waltz in and see all of the things they took (—yes they, Pierre is a thief too—)

Like two naughty school children, the couple shot up to cover what they’d done before you could reach their bedroom. This was their fault naturally, none of yours at all, they were the ones who encouraged you to come over whenever physically possible.

“Grab everything and I’ll distract her!” Kika whispered, rushing to slip out of the room.

Before the ‘not fair-’ could slip from his lips, his girlfriend was off to catch you, brushing passed him and leaving the door cracked. He could hear your surprised greeting, a cute squeak escaping you, before Kika saying something like ‘Oh, Pierre is busy now’, then silence. Pulling the handle back just an inch, he peaked outside to see Kika’s lips not even a centimeter from your own, her hands gripping your jacket for dear life.

“Oh, pretty girls, ce n'est tout simplement pas juste.” Slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Your eyes shot to his, but Kika’s remained trained on your face. After just a second, your gaze drifted to Kika’s vanity behind him.

The couple froze, you saw. Pierre pulled the door shut behind him as Kika’s mouth opened to form words.

“Oi! Get your hands off my little sister, huh? Démon impoli et pratique, seriously.” Charles slipped into the living room from the front hallway, having obviously accompanied his little sister in her visit.

“Non, Charlie, Kika helped me when I almost tripped.” You smiled at your brother, quickly covering for them, “I was just coming to see if I could get my jean skirt back?”

You looked up at her so sweet and she thinks you’re blushing—“Oh.” She squeaked, “yes, no problem. Pierre.”

“I’ll get it for her, mate.”

“surveille ta copine. je ne suis pas aveugle, mate.”

♤ ♤ ♤

Your man (s girlfriend) is definitely creepy, girl.

note; I made kika and pierres a lil longer bc they’re two ppl so yeah ft charles

thinking part ii with lando, mick (ft the schumachers), lewis, lance, alex & lily, george and carmen?

- ren

Chapter Nineteen

“We have never seen the devil’s side of the story, seeing as god wrote the book”

word count: 17.1k

warnings: mentions of sexual harassment, explicit language, drinking, motorsport accidents, mentions of sex, mention of sex, mentions of death, mature themes

It had been two hours since Sam walked out of Daniel Ricciardo’s hotel room. He’d been sitting in the exact same place ever since he heeded the warning his knees gave him that they were threatening to give out from under him. The first place he could find to sit was at the edge of his bed, which was one step up from the floor in his opinion, and ever since the back of his legs hit the mattress, time seemed to have stopped. He’d had no idea how long he’d sat there, eyes trained on the floor, mind replaying their last conversation like a broken record. 

That was until somebody started banging on his door like a madman. 

He didn’t want to get up at first. No, there was no point. Not when there was no chance the only person he wanted to see was the one knocking. But it didn’t go away, and he preferred silence when he sulked, it made it that much more punishing. 

Slowly he rose to his feet, taking a moment to make sure his knees were sturdy enough to carry his weight that seemed to multiply tenfold in the last few hours. The knocking didn’t let up, and step by step he approached the door. 

He wasn’t in a rush. No, not until he heard a familiar voice from behind the wood. It wasn’t the voice he wanted to hear, but it was one he hoped could offer him something as close to an answer that was available. 

“Open the damn door, Daniel!”

The pleading tone in Molly’s voice terrified him. If Sam’s best friend sounded this desperate to get him to open the door, he wasn’t so sure she had the answer he was looking for. And once he opened the door and saw her tear-stained face, he was absolutely positive she came to him looking for that exact same answer. 

Their eyes met and for a moment, there was silence. The girl was breathing heavily, eyes glossy and threatening to spill over with tears. Daniel just stood there, wondering if he looked the same; wondering if she was feeling the same utter sense of helplessness at the sight before her that he was. 

“Please tell me she’s here,” she whispered desperately, as if she already knew the answer but was hoping she was wrong.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered back. There was nothing he should have been apologizing for except giving her the answer she didn't want. But a small part of Daniel felt like it was his fault. Maybe if he had done something different she would have stayed. Maybe if he had done something different she wouldn’t have left in the first place. 

It wasn’t inherently his fault, and a part of him knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was. 

And Molly saw right through him. 

She walked forward and embraced Daniel in a hug. She buried her head into his chest with a muffled sob once his arms tightened around her. He was sure if he had any tears left a few would have escaped, but now all that he could bring himself to do was revel in the empty feeling occupying the entirety of his chest. 

He softly lifted one of his hands from Molly to reach around and give his door a shove so it would swing closed. At the sound of the lock clicking shut, the girl lifted her head and took a step back. 

With a sniffle, she wiped her nose and reached forward to try and wipe off some of the tear stains she’d left on his hoodie. 

“God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I just—”

Daniel took a step forward, softly putting his hands on the girl’s shoulders in hopes to try to calm her down. The pit of concern in the depth of his chest was tripling in size. He was confused, but he didn’t want to start panicking alongside her, so he took a deep breath. “It’s fine Molly. What’s going on? Is Sam alright?”

But his efforts were futile because Molly was still freaking out. Her mind was racing a hundred miles an hour and he could see she was trying to process her own overwhelming emotions on the spot. 

“I just feel so stupid! I saw all the red flags and ignored them. I knew something was wrong and me and Mick just ignored it because we thought she’d push us away if we tried to talk to her about it. Did she say anything in your letter?”

“What are you talking about? What letter?”

“Me and Mick got letters, so I assumed you did too.”

She whipped out a folded white envelope from her back pocket 

“I left her be after the race. I wanted to let her cool down and I knew she wouldn’t want to talk. She never does with stuff like this, so I stayed after with Mick and got back a few hours ago. I finally went to check on her about half an hour ago but when I opened two envelopes fell out. One addressed to me and one addressed to Mick.”

She took a deep breath, “It explains everything. Well, everything except where she is right now.”

“Explain what, exactly?”

Molly's letter

She folded her envelope back up, leaving Daniel’s question unanswered. “Sam needs to be the one to tell you herself. We need to find out where she left your letter, maybe with the front desk—”

“Molly, she didn’t give me one.”

The way he said it came across much angrier than he intended. Daniel knew Molly was only trying to help, but the hope she had that he lacked was starting to increase his heartache. 

Molly shook her head in protest, adamant she was right. She had to be right. She needed to be right. 

“She had to leave you one, there’s no way she wouldn’t.” 

Her words were sincere, and she said them without an ounce of doubt. But Daniel just sat there, eyes locked on his hands intertwined in his lap. 

Molly affectionately put a hand on his knee, and he looked at her with eyes full of empathy “Daniel, she really cares about you. I haven’t seen her act that way with anybody, ever. You just bring out this side of her I haven’t seen since she started racing. I don’t know what drugs seep out from your pores but she’s so comfortable with you so easily, it’s like she’s known you for years. The uncrackable hard-candy shell was cracked and in record time."

For some reason, he found no solace in her words, he couldn’t even let out a small laugh at the girl's words he knew he would normally find amusing. If what she was saying were true, Sam wouldn’t have left. He shook his head. “There’s definitely a way. You didn’t hear what she said to me tonight. I thought—”

Molly interrupted, “She was here? When?”

Daniel nodded, unsure what the wide-eyed hopeful look on the girl’s face meant. 

“She left a few hours ago,” he replied nonchalantly. 

Instantly, Molly stood from her seat and began to look all around Daniels room for a matching envelope. He couldn’t bring himself to get up, let alone help her. He was somewhat envious of the potential she thought this situation held. So for a moment he just watched her frantically look around his room for something he was sure she wouldn’t find. 

“Molly, she didn’t give me one,” he finally said as she continued to rummage through his things on the table. 

She opened his backpack and dumped its contents onto the floor with no remorse before she dropped to her knees and mumbled, “Well that doesn’t mean she didn’t leave it for you to find somewhere.”

Now Daniel stood, feeling awful for the desperation he was witnessing. He wanted to help Molly move past it any way he could… he wished somebody would be able to help him do the same. 

“In your letter… did she explicitly tell you she wrote me one?”

He tried to put his hand on her shoulder but she brushed it off without even a glance in his direction. 

“No,” Molly said plainly, moving on from the pile of papers on the floor over to Daniel’s nightstand. 

He hesitated before saying something else, not sure if Molly could be stopped by anything except disappointment. But a small part of him was morbidly curious, while the rest of him wanted to have Molly hear herself say it out loud so she would realize it wasn’t an absolute possibility. 

“So how can you be so sure?”

She opened and closed the drawer with a slam before she turned to Daniel, finally looking at him and breaking free from her tunnel vision but brushing past him to look on the desk. She huffed in exhaustion or anxiety, he couldn't tell. “Like I said, she cares for you. A lot. More than I’ve seen her care for anybody else in a long time.”

Daniel stood there, eyes begging for an explanation against his will. 

Molly abruptly stopped digging around in his things, her mind racing. 

“That night in Hungary, after you guys kissed, she came to my room. She was freaking out like she’d just killed a man; face ghastly, speechless, damn near catatonic. And then she sat on my couch and spilled her guts to me. Everything from that night, all this about how much she enjoyed spending time with you even though she thought she should steer clear of you, and how she felt like she was betraying herself because despite everything horrible she thought you said about her, she still felt drawn to you. And then the kiss, the way she described how it made her feel was straight out of a romance novel, except it ran past her lips like it was the worst thing to possibly happen to her. She couldn’t put it into words— she’s horrible at describing her emotions, truly— but everything she was describing was just the fact that she was falling for you. The worst part is, that whole conversation, I knew she had no reason to hate you; I’d already known that Lando had lied to you both. Sure I played wingman for you a bit, told her she was being ridiculous and just needed to accept her feelings. But I sat there and let her believe you were a bad guy, I didn’t tell her, didn’t clear it up, nothing. And sitting here, I’m realizing I apologized to her, but I never apologized to you. So I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you guys.”

“It’s alright—” 

“It’s not. But we’re going to fix this. I’ll forgive myself when she’s back here with us. Back…” she trailed off remembering Daniel hadn’t read his hypothetical letter yet, and that she knew he should find out for himself before she tells him anything. So she just resumed rummaging through the clutter spread out across his desk. 

Daniel could see how much this meant to her; Molly was determined to get her friend back and it seems like she wanted Sam back for more than herself. She had read her letter and was clued in to what had actually happened, and Daniel was starting to think something Sam had written was giving Molly hope that it was possible. This was hope he was interested in, not hope he was scared of or jealous of; hope that motivated him. For himself. For Molly. For Sam. And so he decided to give it all a chance and began to look around his things for a single white envelope. His mind and his chest were on a seesaw. He’d think back to earlier that night, retracing her steps in his room, but then his chest would start to tighten at the words exchanged on every corner he thought of. The door, the edge of the bed, the dresser—

The dresser. 

He starts rummaging through the heavy layer of clutter along the piece of furniture. Under folders, beneath bags, hats, loose papers and inside of folded clothing until he reached his fingers inside a folded up polo and they landed on a thick, white envelope which once he pulled it out, was decorated with his name and a small phrase scribbled across the front. 

For when it happens

“This has got to be it,” he mumbled into the silent room. 

Molly dropped what she was doing and made her way over to him. She grabbed her own envelope from her pocket and unfolded it as she brought it up to compare the two. 

The exact same phrase. The exact same handwriting. 

He noticed how the envelope was nearly bursting at the seams in comparison to Molly’s. Anxiety wrapped its hands around his neck and squeezed. He forced himself to swallow any fear of the unknown and replace it with anticipation.

“This whole situation is a lot bigger than I thought, isn’t it?” he asked, turning to the girl standing beside him for moral support. 

She nodded softly. 

“I’ll give you some space while you read it. I’m going to go check on Mick. He went to see if George got a letter too,” she walked over to the bedside table and grabbed the complementary pen and pad of paper, “Here’s my number. Just shoot me a text when you’re ready to talk about it.”

He nodded with gratitude and watched her walk out the door.  

The room went silent. It was heavy. Charged. There was tension between him and the envelope, despite it being an inanimate object. Suddenly, he was terrified. A part of him felt like throwing up. He had no idea what the letter contained, or what any of this meant, but he knew it could go one of two ways. 

It was either going to break his heart even more, or make him wish he’d never let her walk out that door. 

He inhaled, and broke the seal which had been keeping it closed. 

Daniel’s letter

It was somewhere in the middle of the third page of his second re-read when he was yet again interrupted by banging on his door. 

Again, he heard shouting on the other side. Not shouting directed at him like before— these people were shouting at each other. He heard Molly’s thick accent in a shrill tone, and even through the wood of the door he could tell she wasn’t as caught in turmoil as before. No, she was angry. Before he had the chance to ask himself who she could possibly be upset at, especially when her best friend had just been banned from racing, he got an answer in the form of cries of annoyance and pain. 

He swung the door open and Molly wasted no time dragging George Russell into the room by his ear. 

A small part of Daniel wanted to feel bad that George was obviously in pain, but ever since Austin, the British driver had left a poor taste in his mouth. Of course, Sam had told him she and George weren’t an item all the way back in Russia. Yet their history was always what lingered over Daniel’s head. Every small moment between the two exes had managed to catch Daniel’s eye and cause him to overthink it for hours after. The unanswered question he asked her that night at the carnival still weighed heavy on his conscience all the way up to when he’d finished the letter still clutched in his grip. Sam may have had no romantic feelings for George anymore, but Daniel hadn’t been sure the same could be said for her future teammate who should have been her future teammate. 

But Austin… Austin was a turning point for Daniel. All of the longing glances and lingering touches from George had only raised concerns in an ugly shade of green; they’d always been out of his control because Daniel and Sam had only been friends. But things changed after Sam told her friends about her and Daniel. Everything angsty and affectionate George had been doing only amplified, and to Daniel, it felt as though it was out of spite. It wasn’t like he was doing it all behind Daniel’s back. No, he was doing all these small nuances with him standing a few feet away. Not to mention George purposefully forgetting to invite Daniel to Sam’s surprise, stepping in front of him to hug her before him after her Mercedes announcement, and then their argument when Sam had been in the back of the police car. They hadn’t spoken about it, not to anybody, but since then, there had been an awkward tension between the two old friends. Daniel wasn’t even sure he’d spoken to George since Austin. And seeing him comfort Sam after the qualifying session only made him more upset. Both at her and at the man now stumbling to his feet in the middle of his hotel room. 

He gripped his letter tighter at his presence. 

So he would never say it, but he didn’t mind that Molly was inflicting pain like an enraged mother. To be honest, he would’ve laughed under different circumstances. 

“Ow!” George yelped as Molly threw him forward by his ear. 

“Talk,” she spat without an ounce of sympathy in her tone. She folded her arms across her chest and Mick appeared from the doorway to stand behind her. Daniel watched as the boy’s hands found her shoulders and the girl became the slightest bit less tense in an instant. He tore his eyes away when Mick pulled her back against his chest; something about seeing something so affectionate right now shot a pain through his heart. 

George stood straight, rubbing the ear that had just been violated by a 5’6’ petite blonde woman as if she was a bodybuilder or something. He tried to play dumb, “What do you want me to—”

Molly scoffed. “You’ve always been a horrible liar George Russell, tell us what you really know about Sam leaving.”

Daniel’s eyes whipped over to George. So not only was he hiding feelings for Sam, he was hiding the truth about why she left? The emptiness in his chest was slowly filling with rage. 

George looked around at everybody in the room. They all stared back at him waiting, impatient. He took a deep breath and started to explain, “She wrote us all letters—”

Mick, Molly and Daniel simultaneously whipped out the white envelopes they had been holding onto since they had been opened. They held them up incredulously for George to see, not an ounce of amusement in sight. 

“Yeah we got that part. Fast forward,” Mick finally chimed in. 

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the hell he was about to unleash. “I found mine in Mexico and read it. I’ve known about her plan since then and—”

At the same time, each of them broke out into shouting, louder and more aggressive than George had expected. Instantly the room was filled with angry, confused yells. George was bombarded from every direction. He couldn’t tell what any of them were saying in the chaos, but he heard bits and pieces here and there. 

Unbelievable

Maybe violence is the answer

Inconsiderate

What was going through your head

Selfish

You let her down again

Molly’s southern accent was the loudest of the three as she was shouting possibly empty threats at George. She was fighting Mick’s grasp trying to close the space between them, her finger accusatory and pointing at him as her inhibitions were clouded by rage. 

As he fought off his own urge to beat George to a pulp at this revelation, he knew he needed to hold his girlfriend back. The only thing keeping Mick’s mind on Molly rather than George was Sam’s letter. His anger was getting the better of him, but he chose to take a deep breath, focus on what he promised himself he would do, and stopped shouting at George to shift his focus on getting Molly relaxed. 

Mick’s letter 

Molly had finally stopped trying to lunge at George and responded to Mick’s futile pleas to calm down. Yet unexpectedly, Mick saw something flicker in Daniel across the room. The younger driver watched as the Aussie’s fists clenched and his jaw tensed. He noticed the weight shift from Daniel’s heels to his toes, which allowed him to anticipate what was about to happen next. 

Mick jumped between the two drivers just in time to put a firm hand on Daniel’s chest to keep him back. But that wasn’t enough, and he ended up using both hands and a lot of his upper body strength to keep the two apart. Still trying to push against Daniel, he turned around to see a retreating George with wide eyes. The rage in Mick’s chest flared, but he pushed it down, preferring to ask a question rather than lunge at George himself, “you knew she was going to choose to get her third strike this whole time?”

“What? No! Of course not. I only knew about her plan to run off if the strike thingy ever happened. You both knew about the contract this whole time and never said anything, don’t get mad at just me!” He pointed between Mick and Molly, the former scoffing to defend himself and his girlfriend. 

“We knew the basics. There was a contract and she had three chances. We all just assumed they meant three strikes every season. Don’t try to turn this around on us!”

The men in the room started to argue even more intensely with one another, but as Molly was trying to collect her rage and put herself back together, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. In an instant, she pulled it out, hoping it was a text or message from her best friend. But in reality, it would turn out to be much, much worse. 

haasf1team posted a new video

“Guys,” Molly said into the loud room, finger hovering over the notification. They guys didn’t hear her over their arguing. 

Her eyes were still locked on the screen, finger getting dangerously close to pressing. And then she let it.

“Guys,” she repeated louder with more conviction as her instagram feed refreshed. Mick looked over, unsure of if he’d heard her at all. 

But when Sam’s vacant face appeared on her phone screen, encapsulated in the little white box of her Instagram feed, she finally found it within herself to shout. 

“Guys!” That grabbed everyone’s attention. “Put your dicks away. I think HAAS just dropped a statement about Sam, but it’s a video.”

The three men flocked over and huddled around Molly’s phone. Silence fell over the room as she refreshed the post so it would start over and turned her volume up to full max. 

Hi guys. Uhm, pretty unfortunate end to my race here in Saudi Arabia. Got shown the black flag before the end of the first lap and that was it. And with that, I’m actually turning in my metaphorical keys and stepping down from racing all together. This was my last race for HAAS F1 Team, and my last race as a Formula 1 driver. I’ve appreciated the support you’ve all given me this season and the way you welcomed me to the team with open arms. I’ve loved every second of racing here and I’ll always look back on this season with a smile on my face. Thanks for everything. This is Sam, signing off.

“What the fuck,” Molly said plainly. 

“That’s got to be scripted. She would never say half of that stuff; it’s not even true! It’s got to be some sort of agreement with the team and the contract ending…” Mick was trying to rationalize the horribly out-of-character video they’d just watched.

“Yeah,” Daniel said quietly, “she doesn’t even sound like she believes what she’s saying.”

George looked over at Mick, “Have you heard anything from your team about this since the end of the race?”

He shook his head, “Not a word.”

“We’ve got to do something, we can’t just sit here while she’s off god knows where, and the FIA is just getting away with this like nothing even happened!”

“And Guenther. We can’t let Guenther get away with it either” Mick added painfully to George’s statement.

Everyone’s eyes locked on the man, confusion riddled in their expressions, waiting for him to explain. 

“In my letter, Sam told me not to trust Guenther. She didn’t say why, but I have a feeling we should believe her.”

They stood around stunned for a moment, trying to process this new, key piece of information. Finally, Molly spoke up, “Is there anything else in anybody’s letter that might be helpful in figuring out the whole story?”

George and Mick shook their heads. Aside from the personal message to each of them, their letters hadn’t contained any vital information as to where Sam could be, or any way to help her situation that hadn’t already been shared amongst the four of them.  

But Daniel, who had taken a seat on the edge of his bed moments ago, didn’t respond— verbally or with a shake of his head. He was avoiding eye contact with everyone, unsure if he wasn’t responding because he didn’t want to break the promise he’d made to himself once he’d read her letter, or if he was just too zoned out to realize the question wasn’t rhetorical. His mind was racing like it was wheel to wheel down a final straight before the checkered flag was waved. He could barely form a coherent thought, let alone decide how he should tell the people staring at him expectantly what had happened in this exact room only hours ago. 

The silence was deafening, everyone just staring at Daniel as they watched him fight some form of internal demon eating away at him. 

“I told her I was falling in love with her tonight and she still walked out that door,” he said out of nowhere, staring at his hands. 

George’s eyes went wide, Mick’s eyebrows raised and jaw fell open a few centimeters, and Molly wasn’t sure the gasp she’d let out was quiet enough to have gone unnoticed.

“She told me we were a disaster waiting to happen, that whatever we were was doomed from the start and she wouldn’t be able to love me back if we kept it going.”

Daniel wasn’t sure why he was telling them this. It wasn’t integral to them finding her, or figuring out what to do; it was personal, deeply personal. Yet a part of him felt like in his hypnotic state, he’d missed something; that in a way, when he got it off his chest— which he knew he needed to at some point— maybe they could catch something he’d missed in the small details.

His eyes remained locked on the floor beneath him, “But she also was talking about next season, about a future in the sport that apparently doesn’t exist as of a few hours ago. She told me she had to—” he picked up his letter to find the right line, “inflict lasting damage so it would be easier to leave.” His eyes lingered on the paper in his hands. For the first time that night, at the sight of her words in her own handwriting, he imagined Sam sitting down to write these letters, and how difficult it must've been to go through by herself. And now each line, each word, each individual character held an intimacy it hadn’t before. 

But then, when he read those characters and the words they were strung together to form, and the specific order those words were arranged in to create sentences, that intimacy vanished and was replaced with hurt. Daniel rubbed a corner of the paper between his thumb and index finger, finally looking up to meet the eyes of the three people standing in front of him.

“So I don't know what's true and what's not, but I know for sure that she still left. I watched her walk out that door, and I just let her. I’m angry at her, that’s no secret. For lying, for leaving, but most of all for telling me that I’m the only person who knows where she is and then asking me not to come and find her.”

The last sentence he spoke fell onto the silence with a boom. Everyone stood in shock at how casual Daniel said it, and then George spoke up.

“Mate, fucking tell us where she is so we can go and fix this together,” he said it as if he were confused why Daniel hadn’t continued talking. But when his expected answer never came, his chest began to rise and fall quicker. 

Daniel said nothing, only staring at George with a hard expression and full intent to keep the wordless promise he made to Sam that he would do what she asked. He wasn’t going to go and find her. 

George started toward him, long limbs moving swiftly in anger, but Molly stepped between them. 

“You’re a lousy friend if you're not going to help us go get her,” he spat trying to shove past Molly toward Daniel the best he could while still trying to be polite and not to push too hard against the girl. 

Daniel couldn’t help but scoff, his anger at George finally escaping, “Lousy friend? Just like I was back in Austin while I was laying into some rando for touching her? You think you’re the hero for stepping in to argue with the police? Well you only got to do it after you pushed me out of the way when I had it under control.”

Mick and Molly turned to look at eachother, wildly confused as to what the two drivers were arguing about. They hadn’t witnessed George and Daniel get into an argument outside of the bar in Austin: Molly had already ran off and pulled Mick with her in the direction of the Uber pickup line to rush to the sheriff’s station. 

George scoffed right back, surging against Molly again. “Under control? She was still in the back of the police car in handcuffs! If you would have just let me handle it from the beginning—”

“Why, so you could rescue the damsel in distress and be her knight in shining armor?” 

Daniel’s words stunned George, the Brit looking like a deer caught in headlights. The Aussie took a step forward, but was blocked by Mick yet again. At this point, they were arguing with each other over Mick and Molly’s heads. 

“Yeah, I know you guys have a history. And don’t think I don’t notice how you look at Sam, or how you pretend I don't exist when we’re all together. The glares when you think I’m not looking, the ‘accidentally’ forgetting to invite me to the surprise for her birthday, the little one on one talks you guys have, all of it. However much you want to deny it, I know Sam pretty damn well too. I might not have known her for as long as all of you have, but I know that if we just show up, she’s going to resent us for it. We would blatantly be ignoring the one consistent thing she asked each of us in our letters. So no, as much as it fucking hurts me to do, I’m not going to tell you where she is. Not without a plan first anyway.”

Molly could feel the small part of George’s neck that her hand was touching heat up; he was getting angry. But the lack of a response from him meant he was taking into consideration what Daniel had said. A moment of clarity, of sorts. She took the silence as her own opportunity to speak, looking George in the eye as she did.

“Daniel’s right. We can go out to…” she looked at Daniel with his unrelenting posture and firm expression before turning back to George, “wherever she is. But that doesn't mean she’s going to come back with us. She’s stubborn. There’s no doubt in my mind she’d slam the door right in our faces if we showed up. In my letter she asked for time, and said she’d come find me when she was ready.”

The group mulled over what Molly had to say, each thinking about what could possibly be done with yet another roadblock in their way. 

Daniel was the first one to speak. 

“So we make her ready. We make sure she can come back to the paddock, get her seat back, and keep racing. She doesn't need to be here for that. If we can do this before Abu Dhabi, we might have a chance.”

As if it were out of instinct, or just spite, George immediately met Daniel’s statement with retaliation, “And how do you suppose we do that?”

He shrugged, addressing everyone in the room, not just George, and tried to convince them of the initial stages of a potential plan. “I don’t know, we’ll look at her contract. Try and find a loophole or something they missed. Something we can use to read between the lines, a half truth of sorts.” 

He looked back at George, “You’re a leader in the GPDA and know all of our rights and stuff as drivers. Plus you’re good with all that legal jargon; you act like the rules can be read as easily as a picture book, that’s where we can start.”

“Yeah, but I need an actual copy of the contract to go over. In the letter, Sam mentioned it was written specifically for her. New stipulations, new sections, new articles, just for this specific situation. If I want to apply what I know to it, I need to read it first. And if she says we can’t trust Guenther, then I doubt he’d just hand it over if we asked nicely.” 

Now the cogs in George’s mind were starting to turn. The look of jealous rage shifted into one of concentration and perplection. Eyes were locked on him, hoping the driver widely acknowledged for his intelligence would be able to come up with anything. 

“So we don't ask.”

Everyone looked at the girl who had just said something completely out of character as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She crossed her arms absentmindedly, as if she were preparing herself for a fight. “If there’s one thing Sam has taught me it’s how to get into a precarious situation and not get caught. She’s been dragging me into her mischief since we were in seventh grade, and I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve been caught. We make a plan to distract Guenther, sneak into his office and find the file. The only issue is, I don’t know his computer password and—”

George interrupted her eagerly. “We won’t need it. If she broke her contract, she would have had to sign a copy recognizing she breached its contents. The FIA will have their own, but it’ll be a gamble to assume Guenther has one. And seeing as that was only a few hours ago, we need to get to it before it's finalized. If we can’t, then we have no chance of saving Sam’s career.” “When is it finalized?” Mick asked the question everyone else was afraid to.

“All yearly contracts are finalized at the checkered flag of the last race,” George answered solemnly, the gravity of the situation settling among the group. 

“So we have 6 days to figure out how to outsmart the FIA? We’re fucked,” Molly threw her arms down in defeat, Mick walking over to try and bring her a bit of comfort. 

“Technically we only have 5”, George said matter-of-factly, getting met with glares from around the room. He threw his hands up in defense. “Well, if you factor in the start time of the race and the fact that its 2 am right now it really only—”

“Way to lighten the mood,” Mick held off from rolling his eyes and squeezed a visibly distraught Molly tighter toward him.

Daniel looked around confused, “I don’t get it, why couldn’t she tell us how she was feeling? Why did she have to run off when there are four perfectly capable people standing in this room who would do anything to help her at the drop of a hat?”

“That’s just Sam,” Mick said flatly.

Molly looked to Daniel and spoke up, “To her, asking for help is admitting defeat. I have a feeling if this works out you’re gonna be around for a while, so it’s best you learn that now.”

“We’re wasting time, we need a plan,” George wasted no time interrupting their conversation, letting his jealousy creep back out and end the conversation about Daniel and Sam’s potential future. He walked over to the table in the room and pulled out a chair. With a heavy demeanor, he sunk into it and began to pick his own brain for ideas. 

Everyone else followed suit and took an empty chair for themselves

Daniel looked at George and got the ball rolling with questions, “Look let’s just start simple. In any normal situation, how would a driver go about opposing a formal decision the FIA made?”

“Fuck,” George murmured nearly instantaneously as the innocent question clicked all the pieces into their desired place.  

“What? Share with the class,” Daniel grumbled impatiently. 

George took a deep breath, “A petition. Greater than 51% of drivers must come to an agreement, but unless they get a unanimous vote, the FIA can table the case until a later date, and we don't have a later date.”

Mick and Molly dropped their heads in frustration

But Daniel just looked at the three younger drivers, wondering why a simple petition sent such anguish through each of them. He leaned his elbows on the table, “We can get a unanimous decision. It’s Sam for Christ’s sake.”

The tone in his voice may have very well called Mick, Molly and George dumb. Daniel had no idea why a petition was such a bad sign, or why it seemed so unfathomable to achieve. 

“Yeah well it didn’t work the first time it happened, so I doubt it's going to work this time. Especially not under these circumstances,” Molly leaned back in her chair and dragged her hands down her face dramatically. 

“Of course history had to go and repeat itself,” George shook his head and angrily pushed his chair away from the table to pace the length of the room anxiously. 

Daniel could only quirk an eyebrow, more lost than he had been previously. “What do you mean history is repeating itself? I’m confused,” he asked the question innocently, but from the stunned looks on everyone’s faces it was as if he’d been playing a cruel joke on them. 

They all looked around at each other, first trying to tell if he was serious and then confused as to how Daniel had no idea, especially since he and Sam were so close. 

“2017? When she lost her F2 seat and was kicked from Formula Series racing altogether? Why do you think a talent like hers went to Indycar? By choice?”

George selfishly jumped at the opportunity to make Daniel feel stupid. Sure, he said he’d gotten over him and Sam being together. But he was angry that Daniel apparently knew where she was and wouldn't share, as well as annoyed he’d called him out on what happened in Austin. So his tone came out insulted, offended that he called Sam a friend and didn’t know what had happened at a major point in her life. 

And much to the Brit’s satisfaction, the words landed painfully with Daniel. A part of him felt guilty for not knowing, so he spoke quietly, “I know she lost her seat, but what about that makes you think it’ll happen again?”

Mick was the one to speak this time; he wasn’t too pleased with George at the moment, seeing as he’d not only spoken to Daniel as if he was a child, but also lied to everybody’s faces for weeks. So he took it upon himself to explain the incident to Daniel, and it felt like the right thing to do seeing as George played a rather large part in it. 

“Back in 2017, Sam was racing with Prema in the F2 championship. Charles was her teammate and they’d been in a pretty intense battle for the title all season. She’d just passed him in the standings and was only increasing her lead. During the second to last race in Spain, they were racing each other the entire time, ignoring their strategists and going wheel to wheel, pulling really risky overtakes, and trying to prove themselves for the Sauber seat that was rumored to be going to the F2 champion.”

Molly took over. 

“The only thing is that Sam was fighting for the win— to keep Charles behind her— and Charles was fighting to catch Sam and hopefully retake the lead. She was trying to extend the gap and he was trying to close it.”

Mick took over again to explain the racing incident using words a driver would understand. 

“The circuit in Jerez has a pretty tight hairpin. Not as tight on the entry as Monaco or as heavy on the breaks because it’s not downhill, but practically the same angle in the curve. Sam was in the lead going into the turn, but only by a little bit. She had the racing line, but lost the rear at the apex because she had to brake hard once she realized Charles was trying to overtake on the outside. He was off the racing line into the turn, but tried to regain by changing directions just the slightest. It was far too aggressive on his side. Sam did everything right; her front wheel was ahead of his and should’ve earned her respect of the space. But she tried to evade a collision when she was squeezed, braked hard, and Charles’ front wing pierced her front suspension and sent them both into the wall. It was a pretty nasty crash, and thankfully they were both okay, but when they both got out of their cars, they immediately went over to each other and started arguing—“

Molly interrupted. 

“But before the race that day, they’d already gotten into an argument. Charles had been ignoring Sam recently and she was getting annoyed so she confronted him. Not only was she upset he was being callous with her, but she was also worried the outlets were starting to create some fake rivalry between them because of how distant they’d been in the media. Charles snapped first, yelling something about how the rivalry wasn’t fake, and how Sam would never understand what he was going through. And then Sam snapped right back talking about how he was just getting intimidated by her results and was too worried about getting beat by a girl to focus on working as a team for the constructors championship. It was a pretty ugly fight. The entire Prema team was split down the middle that whole weekend. It was super awkward. They were really good friends before they became teammates, so nobody had expected something like this to blow up.”

Mick took back over. 

“Yeah, so when everyone began to blame Sam for the racing incident, and her whole team just let them, she wasn’t having any of it. She’d really been struggling with the media around then; they weren’t too fond of a woman leading the standings and breaking traditions. This was the last straw. The media ate her alive. Interviews. Publications. Everything. They blamed her for something that could have been considered a racing incident, but was technically Charles’ fault. Called her desperate, reckless, lazy, talentless; if it was an insult, they probably threw it in her direction. To make matters even worse the FIA even tried to penalize her for it in the next race. But if she was going to start from the back like they wanted her to, and Charles would finish 4th or above, he would win the title and get the Sauber seat. So she retaliated. Went to the stewards and pleaded her case. They wouldn’t even hear her out. And then she lost it; all the anger she’d been suppressing all season just came out at the stewards. Name calling. In multiple languages. She got up in their faces, slammed her hands on a desk here and there, and threw some papers for dramatic flare. Of course they were pissed off and went to her team above her head about it.”

Molly took over, knowing the story better from Sam’s perspective seeing as though she was there with her when it all happened. 

“They gave her team CEO a choice. Allow Sam to keep her superlicense but condemn Charles’ actions and upset all of golden legacy boy’s sponsors, which meant they could potentially withdraw their loads of support. Or condemn Sam for an incident she didn’t cause and revoke her superlicense and access to FIA governed motorsports. Obviously, they chose to kick Sam from the team. It was the easy option. She was already being blamed in the media, she was a minority in her series, and her temper had given them a scapegoat. It was blown completely out of proportion. But Sam being Sam didn’t go easily. She took it up with the FIA, they begrudgingly told her to start the petition, get the signatures she needed, and it would be resolved.”

Molly looked over at George, the faintest glint of buried resentment visible in her glare. 

“You want to take it from here?” 

She may have phrased it as a question, but she wasn’t asking. George played a role in the next part of Sam’s story— more specifically the end of it— so she only thought it was right for him to tell it. A punishing reminder of sorts, that even though they had made up and moved on, he still did what he’d done. 

Daniel looked over at George, a confused quirk to his enamored expression. And with a clear of his throat, George continued the story. 

“Like I said, she needed a unanimous vote to get the notion overturned immediately…”

He hesitated before continuing. 

“Any series Prema had a team in was included in the cohort of voters. F2, F3– where me, Alex and Lando were racing, Super Formula, which is where Pierre was racing before he got pulled up to race with Toro Rosso that year, and Italian F4. When the time came, for the drivers to sign, that is, we were briefed on the situation, Sam was given a moment to plead her case to us, and we were given 24 hours to decide our vote. We weren’t allowed to see her in that time period, so I was with a big majority of our friend group out for dinner. And if you haven’t figured it out yet, it was me, Charles, Lando, Pierre and Alex.”

“The fecal five," Molly added confidently. 

George held off from rolling his eyes, “Yeah, whatever. But Charles spent all night telling us about what it was like to be Sam’s teammate. All the horror behind the scenes we never saw such as her complaining about unfair regulations, needing special accommodations, always being a downer, and pointing out biases and stereotypes. And at the time, he made it sound awful. He made her sound awful. In a way, Alex, Lando, and I all idolized Charles; he was on the path we all dreamed about: nearly F2 champion with a Formula 1 seat right beneath his fingertips, and he’d told us the only thing standing in his way anymore was Sam. Which he said also meant, she was standing in our way too. Any seat she took was a seat we couldn't. She was a threat to all of our careers. And of course, Pierre and Charles were best friends; they’d follow each other into fire. So we decided that night not to sign. Worst part is, once they announced her campaign had failed, I found out she only needed five more signatures for it to have been a success. Well, greater than fifty-one percent anyway. But knowing Sam she would’ve fought tooth and nail for that case to have been resolved before it was finalized, so we let her down. I let her down. When I looked back over the years, I felt awful and with reason. I know Sam didn’t have it easy, being the only woman and all, but she told me a few months ago that she never talked about it because she didn’t want to feel like she was complaining, or that she was ungrateful for the opportunity. She was well aware that if she complained, it would be blown out of the water. So she grinned and bore it all season. I was so worried about staying on good terms with a bunch of people that could potentially become connections later that I forgot Sam was a close friend. Every day I regret—“

Still in a bit of shock, Daniel cut him off, trying to find a way to sympathize rather than be angry at George for something that happened so long ago. “Don’t waste our time explaining why you did it. It happened. It’s over. And for some reason Sam has obviously forgiven you for what you did, so in some twisted way I feel like I should look past how shitty of a person you were before your balls dropped so we can move on from this. Right now we need to be thinking of how we can prevent this from happening all over again.”

“There’s one problem,” Mick interjected, “Contractually, Sam wasn’t supposed to tell anybody. If we tell everyone that we know now, won’t that just reveal that she broke yet another contract?”

“And contractually,” Molly added on, “those of us who knew about the contract when it was signed,” she gestured between her and Mick, “are also under the same legal obligations.”

Daniel looked at George. For the first time in what felt like ages, the two men seemed to be on the same page. They both even managed to curve their lips upward in the tiniest of smirks. 

“I don’t remember signing any contract… How about you George?”

“No Daniel, I don’t recall that I did.”

“I don’t see why I have to wait in the car,” George complained from the driver's seat. 

“Because,” Daniel said as he unbuckled his seatbelt, “your role in the plan is being able to read the contract, and you can’t do that until we get it.”

Molly couldn’t help but laugh at Daniel’s slightly humorous tone of voice, which George had held off rolling his eyes in response to. 

But Mick chimed in to offer some reassurance, “Technically you’re the getaway driver. And every secret plan needs a getaway driver. It’s an integral part of the team.”

He patted George’s shoulder from the passenger seat as the car rolled to a stop. 

George put the car in park, not really impressed by the way Mick tried to make him feel important by sitting and waiting in the car. He shifted in his seat so he could address everyone. 

“So we’re all set on the plan?”

Mick, Molly, and Daniel nodded. 

The Aussie spoke up from the back, “I’ll intercept Guenther in the paddock on his way back from the team principal briefing. I’ll start a conversation, and do my best to keep him busy for as long as possible.”

They had initially planned to sneak into his office before he even got to the paddock that morning, but they knew his office would be locked if he had yet to arrive. The admin briefings were roughly around 10-15 minutes every weekend, depending on how many issues needed addressing and questions were asked, so the group was hoping Guenther would leave his office unlocked while he was there.

“I don’t see why I couldn’t distract Guenther and you could have been the getaway driver…” George pouted. 

Daniel let out a laugh as if George had just told the funniest joke ever he’d ever heard. But when he collected himself, he noticed nobody else was laughing. In fact, they were all staring at him— George looked offended and Mick and Molly looked like he’d just cracked a joke at a funeral. 

“You were serious?”

George just sat there trying not to distract from the task at hand with his boyish anger. 

“Mate, not to toot my own horn, but I’m Daniel Ricciardo. Everyone wants to talk to me. And I’m not saying this to gloat, I’m saying this because it has a better chance of distracting Guenther for longer. Plus, I’m not sure you can hold a conversation with somebody longer than a few seconds without them plotting a way to politely leave it.”

Molly sent his shoulder a smack from beside him, which made him chuckle. 

Begrudgingly, George folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes. “Just finish going over the plan.”

Mick took the lead. “Since me and Molls are the only people here who technically have access to the HAAS hospitality, or at least wouldn’t look out of place being there, we’re in charge of retrieving the contract. Get in then get out as quickly as possible. No unnecessary stops or detours. I keep watch at the door of Guenther’s office and Molly looks for the contract.”

Molly took over, looking to George as she recited what he’d told her, “it’s going to look similar to the contract we signed during preseason, but it’ll have something along the lines of ‘recognition of breach’ or ‘addendum’ written in bold on the first page.” He nodded, confirming what she’d repeated to him, so she continued. “I’ll look in his desk, in the filing cabinets on the far wall, and if it’s not in there, we bail.”

Everyone nodded. That was the plan. And now it was time to execute it. 

“Alright, meet back here whenever you’re done and—“

“Guys,” Daniel interrupted, pointing out the front windshield toward the turnstiles of the paddock. 

Just past the entrance, team principals from every constructor were seen descending the stairs and heading into the paddock. 

“Shit, the meeting must have gotten pushed up.”

And then Guenther appeared from the base of the stairs. Everyone silently began to panic. This is the only chance they’d have to get this done and it potentially could’ve been ruined by a change in schedule. 

Daniel opened the door and turned to Molly beside him, “time’s ticking.” And with that, he shut the door and jogged to the entrance of the paddock. 

As calmly as they could manage while still rushing to their destination, Mick and Molly exited the car, scanned into the paddock and headed toward the HAAS building. 

It was only Wednesday morning, so there wasn’t any media around— except Netflix— which meant they could get over to the building without being stopped. 

They walked briskly, quietly, hand-in-hand, all the way through the hospitality doors. 

Without a single word being exchanged, they made their way up to Geunther’s office. It’s as if uttering a single syllable would jynx the entire plan, or throw them off, or even just make the very illegal thing they were about to attempt that much more real. So they were silent. 

That was, until they reached the door to Guenther’s office. Mick inhaled loudly and reached for the door handle. The anticipation was palpable. Whether or not this door handle pressed all the way down or was met with resistance determined the course of their plan, Sam’s future potentially along with it. 

His hand hovered over it, waiting. For what, he had no idea. 

Molly put her hand over his and pushed down for him, “we’re a little short on time for dramatic pauses.”

And with that, the handle pressed down completely and they pushed the door inward. 

Relief washed over them.

In an instant, Molly rushed in and headed straight for the cabinets at the back of the room, not even bothering to turn on the light, which Mick flicked on for her not too much later. 

She opened drawers and delicately plucked her way through labeled folders, lifting up contents of the topics that could potentially relate to Sam’s contract. 

Nothing. 

She slammed the last metal drawer closed a little too loud for her liking and moved over to his desk. 

Mick's head swiveled between the hallway and his girlfriend behind him. He knew if he helped this would probably be over quicker, but he also knew there needed to be someone keeping watch, especially now that Guenther was out of the meeting and the only thing keeping him at bay was Daniel downstairs. 

That being said, Daniel had barely intercepted the team principal before he started to head in the direction of the HAAS hospitality. 

He wasn’t sure he could hold the man off for long, because every moment or so, he’d take a few steps in the direction of where he needed him not to go. 

To catch his attention he’d brought up their plans for the last race, fueling the man’s ego by not even mentioning Sam. Daniel was smart and knew that the second he mentioned the driver Guenther had probably had something to do with banning, the conversation would be over. 

So he asked about Pietro, his opinion on their ability to clinch 6th in the constructors championship, and how he was oh so very interested about Mick’s teammate next season. Guenther smiled and entertained the Aussie, even cracking some of his own jokes— which Daniel didn’t particularly find funny— and taking the conversation in a different route. 

But then, he got a phone call. 

“This is Gene, I’ve got to take this. Good talking to you, Daniel.”

And then with a wave, he was gone. 

Daniel waited until the man was facing away from him to pull out his phone and text Mick:

On the move. Just started walking toward the garage. Hurry. 

Mick’s phone pinged and he pulled it from his pocket. He read the text and began to sweat.

“You’ve got about three min—“

“Got it—“ Molly shouted, hoisting a massive stack of papers into the air. But in her excitement, she nearly dropped it, but managed to catch it before it hit the table. 

Luckily, they were secured together and they wouldn’t be caught because of a mess of papers lying everywhere. What made her stop in her tracks is what she saw as a result of her frantic movements bumping the table. 

Guenther’s laptop screen woke up, and there was his home screen. 

It was unlocked. 

She stood there for a moment, frozen in shock. 

So without a word to Mick, she sat down in the chair and started using the mouse and keyboard like this was her own computer at home. 

He was confused to say the least. Not only did she ignore the warning that they had no time to spare, but she already had the contract. What more was there to do? 

“Molly what are you doing?” He asked it in a panicked whisper, but she didn’t flinch. 

“Creating our loophole,” she said quietly as her fingers delicately worked away at the keyboard, face so close to the screen that it cast a white glow across her features . 

“We don’t have time for this. We got the contract and we’ve got to get out of here before someone sees us in here, or worse, Guenther comes back.”

She didn’t look up from the screen to respond.  “Mick, he accidentally left his laptop open. We’re not going to get another chance to cross this part of the plan off our list. I just need a few more seconds.”

He huffed and let her do whatever it was she was doing. His head peeked back out around the corner into the hallway. It stayed like that for a few seconds, then suddenly, Mick’s head came around the corner of the door. He began trying to fold the thick contract up into a hideable size, but it was too big to be discreet. 

“Well you’ve got about 30 seconds before Guenther walks through that door so finish whatever it is you’re doing.”

Without tearing her eyes from the screen she asked, “quick, how does Guenther sign his emails to you”

Mick didn’t hesitate, knowing there was no time to, “Only his first name.” He was still struggling where to hide the copy of the contract he was holding, so he panicked and put it behind his back and under his shirt between his pants and his back. Good enough in a moment's notice. 

He heard the sound of a whoosh come from the laptop, and then the low-pitched ding. Molly then stood from the chair and made her way across the room in record time, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs on the other side of the desk. Mick quickly sat down next to her. 

And just like that Guenther walked through the door. He was taken aback seeing Sam’s best friends in his office, he wasn’t expecting them until closer to media day— and to be fair he wasn’t expecting to see Molly at all now that Sam was gone. 

“I'm not speaking about Samantha, so if that’s why you’re here, I suggest you leave.”

They both bit their tongues; their plan was in too early of stages to say anything to Guenther if they wanted to fly under the radar and draw suspicion away from them. 

So as much as it pained them, all they could bring themselves to do was roll their eyes and walk out the door. But then Mick realized he couldn’t just walk out that door without saying anything. If he was actually as clueless about the situation as he needed to pretend to be, he knew he would never leave like that. 

He kept it simple, “you can’t keep everyone in the dark for long. People are expecting an answer and we’ll be patiently waiting for you to give us one.”

Once they’d turned the corner, they both gave each other a glance, which without words told one another that was too close of a call for comfort. 

With contract in tow and whatever Molly had done on the computer completed, they walked a little quicker than usual back where George had parked their car, the two other drivers already waiting inside with the engine running. 

Seb and George stood at the front of the conference room they’d reserved in the hotel and asked all the drivers to come to. 

It wasn’t often they called informal meetings of the Grand Prix Drivers Association, so everyone obliged without much protest. 

Seb started, “I’m sorry to ask you all to come on such short notice.” 

That was putting it lightly. It was Wednesday night. He’d only found out about Sam’s contract this afternoon, and they’d all be in the paddock tomorrow afternoon for media day.

The next step of their plan was to talk to two veteran drivers who they knew they could count on— who they knew Sam trusted— and fill them in so they could help. 

Sebastian Vettel and Lewis Hamilton nearly marched over to the FIA offices themselves with flaming torches and pitchforks when they learned about Sam’s contract and what had really happened. Of course, Daniel and George had been the ones to explain the whole thing (with the help of some written notes from Mick and Molly to help fill the gaps) so no other legally binding contracts were broken. So now, they were two more signatures they could count on and we’re helping Mick, Molly Daniel and George complete the plan 

“We came to talk about something that has happened to one of our drivers. One of our friends.”

Seb’s calming, diplomatic voice filled the room as drivers looked left and right to see who they could possibly be referring to. 

George stepped forward to take the lead on explaining the situation, a neat powerpoint presentation popping up on the screen behind him. 

“Sam,” he answered their unasked question. “We were all there when she got the black flag last weekend, and by now I assume we’ve all seen the video HAAS posted.”

George’s stomach turned at the conglomeration of reactions to his mention of the video. Some drivers looked upset, others a bit confused, while others didn’t look sympathetic whatsoever. But nevertheless he continued. 

“Well we’re here to fill in the gaps and tell you why she was banned from racing.”

At his words, almost all the drivers wore a look of pure confusion on their faces. 

“When Sam signed with HAAS, they added an addendum to her contract solely to do with her behavior. Behavior that a group of men would get to decide whether or not was appropriate in accordance to their reasoning to allow Sam to regain her superlicense,” George clicked a button and the slide changed from the photocopied front page of the contract, to the text of certain sections highlighted. Then Seb began to speak, reading word-for-word from the slide behind him. 

“The competitor Samantha Jordan Thompson is aware that the sole purpose of her return is to garner publicity and gain Formula 1 viewership across the globe. Any action which is thought to do the opposite will gain a mark on her contract toward the revoking of her super license.”

The room became even more silent, except for one nearly inaudible chuckle, which George knew was probably from Checo, Fernando or Lando. 

Seb ignored it and moved on. 

“Under protection of an NDA, Sam was given three chances to earn a mark on her contract, strikes as she called them, before her contract was revoked indefinitely. The first noncompliance was when she made the tabloids in Monaco. Photos somebody within the paddock took and then leaked themselves. Photos that many of you were cropped out of in that same state, or had recreated years prior. Inherently, she did nothing wrong. Next was Austin. Being taken into custody under false pretenses when she was defending herself after she was sexually harassed and assaulted. Something which none of us have ever experienced before and probably never will. Again, she did nothing inherently wrong, but the backlash F1 received because of this, garnered her that strike. And finally, last weekend in Saudi Arabia. It’s still unclear to us as to why she received the final mark, but we know it happened this past weekend. Our two biggest theories have been her distress about getting pole position by default, or changing grid positions with Lewis after the formation lap.”

Drivers began to shift in their seats, unsure of how to process this information. But this wasn’t about them. It was about Sam. 

Lewis turned around from the front row and addressed the drivers in the room, “Obviously, this is extremely unfair treatment. Not only is it completely invalidating for them to bring her in here as a publicity stunt, but the things she was given a mark for are completely unethical. I know people in this room who’ve done worse things and gotten away with it. As much as any of you might try or want to deny it, it’s because she’s a woman and has a target on her back in a sport with such a lack of diversity like this one. She’s an incredible driver with a bright future in this sport and we owe it to her to try and fix this.”

Checo was the first of the other drivers to break the silence, “Did she not sign the contract herself? Know all the stipulations beforehand? She still did these things and broke their rules. Why should we have to help her get back in her seat?”

George didn’t even hesitate before he spoke up, “because regardless of what any of you have ever done to her or said about her— whether it was behind her back or to the media— she’d do the same for you if the situation were reversed. She’s one of us whether or not you want to believe it.”

Seb huffed, stepping forward to diffuse the tension in the room. “Look, we aren’t going to force you to sign the petition if you don’t want to. The FIA drivers’ rules, rights, and regulation’s guidebook states that a decision can be overruled by greater than 51% of the majority or unanimous decision. Yet, it never specifies which series, or year, or division. If we don’t all unanimously decide, it’ll be a long shot, but we think our best option is to campaign to drivers across the globe who hold a superliscense and race under the FIA, in hopes of filling in the gaps. And if we bring it to the attention of the public, there’s a better chance at holding Formula 1 and the FIA accountable for their biased treatment of Sam. You don’t all have to participate, or even agree, but all we ask is that you keep this silent until we are able to announce our plan to the public. If you’d like to be a part of our message which we’ll each have to post to our socials, we ask that you stay to help us create and execute it. If you aren’t willing to participate, you’re free to leave.”

There were murmurs among the group, drivers who had just learned of the news turning and talking amongst themselves. The volume was low, as if it were disrespectful to have the conversation out loud despite everyone having been here for the presentation. 

George, Daniel and Mick stood alongside Lewis and Seb. The small group didn’t speak, simply waiting for a decision to be made. Whether that was no driver left, every driver left, or somewhere in between, they couldn’t be sure. 

All was answered when Checo and Fernando stood and left the conference room together. 

Sam’s three friends’ and two mentors’ hearts sank. Sure, they still had faith they could do it, but it was going to be a lot harder now. 

But then, Lando stood to leave. Each of them felt disappointed, watching him approach the door. From next to him, Carlos shook his head silently. Daniel on the other hand, wasn’t keen on staying so silent. 

He rose from his chair and chased after him. Once he reached his teammate, Daniel grabbed his shoulder. 

“Lando,” the young driver turned to face Daniel, “You’re seriously not going to be a part of this?”

He shrugged, “No mate, I’ve got better things to do. Losing a seat is part of the sport.”

He started to walk away, but Daniel held on tighter to his shoulder. The anger in his chest was flickering into a flame. “Did you hear nothing that we said earlier? This isn’t just her losing her seat because of something like money or ability. It’s the FIA going out of their way to discriminate using biased treatment—“

“It’s behavior, which has been the reason people have lost their seats before.” If Daniel didn't know better, he’d have said Lando was holding back a smirk. 

He looked at Lando with astonishment… astonishment that was morphing into the rage he felt inside him. “Seriously, you’re not going to sign it? Not even when you had a part in her losing her seat in the first place?”

At that, Lando’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t expected Molly to say anything about the leaked photos, but maybe Sam losing her seat changed the odds. But hearing Daniel say it, that was something he hadn't expected at all. 

And by letting out the smallest bit of his anger, Daniel had broken the dam and it was flowing like a wild river.  “Look, I know what you did to me and Sam. Everything. The absurd amount of lying, breaking into my phone and changing her number, leaking the photos in Monaco, even more lying, the empty threats. Everything. And despite it all, I’ve tried my best to be nice to you. I’ve kept my mouth shut. I gave you time to admit it. And you sat back and dug the hole even deeper. Every comment to the media, every complaint over the radio, everything. But I'm done letting you get away with being a proper cunt. So you can threaten me—I know it’s not out of your reach, keep shitting on me to the media, or whatever it is you feel so inclined to do. Just do me this one solid and sign the damn petition. You owe me at least that much. You owe her. Don’t let history repeat itself.”

Now the look on Lando’s face was nearly impossible to read. Daniel could tell there was the slightest bit of guilt, but that was shadowed by the continuation of the shock from moments ago. But the final piece that Daniel was struggling to place was something along the lines of… anger? Maybe annoyance? Almost as if he was furious Daniel had finally spoken up about this season and was holding it against him. 

“Just know, I’m only doing this so nobody asks why I wasn’t involved. Not for you, not for her.”

Without another word in return, Lando walked back toward his seat and brushed Daniel’s shoulder a bit harder than accidentally in the process. 

On the other side of the conference room, Charles sat quietly while Pierre talked his ear off. His elbows rested on his knees as his mind flew in every direction about what he’d just learned and what it resurfaced. 

To be honest, his brain wasn’t even processing the utterings of French that Pierre was sending quietly in his direction. His eyes were focused on his hands, absentmindedly messing with his fingers and the jewelry that adorned them; so focused to a point where he didn’t even notice Pierre had stood from his seat with the intention to leave. But he snapped out of it when the Frenchman scoffed in protest. 

“What are you talking about?”

Charles came back to reality, no clue what was happening only inches to his left. 

Yuki sat up straighter in his seat, “I said I’m not going with you.”

Pierre looked incredibly disoriented, and was genuinely unsure what was going on with Yuki. Was he confused? They both disliked Sam, why did he want to stay, especially after everything he’d told him about her. 

“Just because you don’t like Sam, doesn’t mean I have to. She’s really nice, a good driver too, and all season I’ve let you make me think she was some sort of girl with cooties! So I’m staying to help my friend.”

Both Pierre and Charles looked shocked. 

Mick on the other hand, let a small smile form on his lips. He remembered how tentative Yuki had been to accept the invite to Sam’s birthday surprise. Mick himself was even tentative about extending the invite because he knew how close he was with Pierre. But then he remembered just how much fun Yuki had that night, how much he’d come out of his shell and how much Sam had said she enjoyed having him there. 

Pierre didn’t put up a fight, not in front of his 17 coworkers. So he rolled his eyes and brushed it off. 

“It’s fine. Do whatever you please. Let’s go Charles,” he turned to start to leave, but then Charles spoke up. 

“No, I’m going to stay too.”

Multiple heads in the room snapped in his direction. 

Pierre, because he was expecting Charles to come along. They had both been open about their dislike of Sam for as long as they could remember since 2017. He wasn’t sure what had changed. 

Lando, for thinking that Charles would leave and not sign, seeing as he was the ringmaster in a nearly identical plan all those years ago. 

Mick, Molly, George and Daniel, because they had all wholeheartedly expected history to repeat itself. 

“Charles—“ Pierre protested. 

The Monegasque looked up at his best friend, “Do whatever you feel is right but I’m staying. She doesn’t deserve this. I made this mistake once, and I’ve lived with it since then. And recently, I learned that it’s not hard to give your support to somebody even when you don’t want to…”

He trailed off, his mind wandering back to when Sam had told him those exact words back in Monaco earlier this season. A moment when he only thought the worst of her and she’d proved him wrong. And now, as much as he wished he didn’t have to admit it to himself, he was going to take her advice. 

Pierre hesitated, not sure whether to stay with his best friend or leave as he had planned. Charles turned back to the group of drivers at the front of the room, noting Pierre’s choice to stay. 

He took a deep breath, “So, what kind of statement did you guys have in mind?”

The salty air blew off the water with the tide and then crashed in the rocks along the shore. It did this again and again, the only difference in results being the shape of the crest of the wave when it broke along the surface. The repetitive motion hypnotized Sam, keeping her attention, giving her something to wait for. But what? She didn’t even know. The sea would not part, turn red with blood, form a tsunami or disappear. It would do the same thing it did the last time, and the time before that: crash. 

She’d been sitting on the beach for what felt like hours, but it easily could have been minutes; her focus was elsewhere. Despite being a beach, the Maine December air was frigid. The sweater she bought at a local boutique was doing little to shelter her from the cold. Nonetheless, she sat there and endured it. She thought maybe she deserved a bit of punishment for everything she’d done the last few months. 

Since she stepped off the plane from Saudi Arabia less than a week ago, Sam had taken it upon herself to physically detach herself from that completed chapter of her life. Her suitcases lay untouched in the closet of her temporary hotel room; it wasn’t ideal accommodations, but she’d already been in touch with a real estate agent in hopes of finding something more permanent. 

Because of the weather, the beach was empty. That, and the small town of Kennebunkport had little of their minuscule population to spare during working hours of lobster season. So to Sam’s surprise, someone sat down just a few feet from her. 

She didn’t want to look at the imbecile who had taken a look at an entire empty beach and chosen to sit directly next to her. But she wasn’t going to let them disturb the peace she was so desperately yearning to build. 

Well, that was until they scooted even closer to her. 

Before she could stop herself, something within Sam snapped and she turned to whoever was beside her. 

“Do you mind—“

She cut herself off with a gasp at who was next to her. 

“Corinna?” She whispered the name, as if she said it too loud, the woman with the familiar, bright smile would disappear.

The woman she’d known for years nodded, nostalgia intertwined along her features. 

“Hallo mein engel." Hello my angel

Sam couldn’t control herself and leapt forward and into the open arms of Corinna Schumacher. The woman she’d come to know better than her own mother held her tenderly, a few tears escaping them both. 

“I’m never trusting Daniel with anything ever again,” she chuckled. “ But god, I could kiss him right now. But I’ve also never wanted to slap him more in my entire life,” Sam laughed as the two women pulled away. 

“To be fair, he did tell me to let you know you only asked him not to come and get you. Mick asked me to come instead and I knew I had to. I’ve been walking around this little town for an hour trying to find you.”

The woman laughed and wiped away the tears that had managed to fall. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the loophole Daniel had managed to find. Now that she had some form of connection to her life with her in Maine, everything she’d done felt so out of sorts, so excessive. 

“I needed to be alone,” Sam shrugged, “I think I’ve convinced myself that I like to be alone,” Sam began, ready to jumpstart the conversation she knew was ahead, “because when you’re alone… nobody can hurt you. But I think it’s also because deep down I’m afraid I won’t ever be capable of returning the love that my friends and family give to me, despite everything.” 

She wasn't sure Corinna making her way across the country for her changed what she knew needed to happen next. 

“I’m happy you’re here, but I can’t go back. Not yet. I need—“

“Time,” Corinna interrupted. “They told me you wanted time…”

Sam looked out into the ocean. She didn’t just want time… she needed time. 

“But what if I told you there was a chance to fix this, and all you had to do was sacrifice that time,” Corinna whispered and laid her hand on Sam’s shoulder. 

“What do you mean fix this? The FIA was clear that if I broke my contract I was done. And I did just that and now I am just that: I broke it and now I’m done,” Sam said matter-of-factly. 

She couldn’t decipher the look on Corinna’s face, but it smelled of anticipation. 

“Yes, well a certain group of people weren’t happy with that choice and took matters into their own hands.” She handed Sam her phone, which she took cautiously. 

On the screen was the F1 Instagram page. 

“Check the most recent post.”

Sam did as she was told, her mind swarmed with the potential of what lay within the singular, tiny square. Her gaze turned to Corinna one last time for reassurance, and with a single nod, Sam pressed the post. 

None other than Corinna’s son and Sam’s best friend and teammate graced the screen first. 

“This is Samantha Thompson,” Mick said plainly. 

Incredible moments of her on track quickly flashed on the screen, intertwined with photos of her in her racing suit in the pit lane, on the podium, and even in press conferences. 

Mick returned to the screen, “And this is also Sam.”

Then a slideshow of horrendously embarrassing videos and photos of her began to play. Her sleeping on the plane with random items stacked on top of her, her taking a game of Dance Dance Revolution far too seriously, clips of her laughing so hard she snorted, moments of being clumsy, silly, just downright herself and so many other clips of her fond memories from other’s prescriptives quickly flashed across the screen. 

They were humanizing her to the public. It was genius.

Next on screen was Sebastian Vettel, who took time and effort explaining her contract situation to whoever cared enough to watch the post thus far. The moment the words began to leave his lips, she was terrified; nobody was supposed to find out— legally Sam was in deep trouble. 

But then it hit her. She thought about what Corinna had said Daniel pointed out about specifics. Technically Sam asked him not to come and find her, she never said he couldn’t send any of their friends to come get her. So that meant…

The contracts her and her team had signed only said they couldn’t share the news, and once they signed it, it became legally binding. But Seb had never signed anything, so technically she wasn’t breaching her NDA. 

Still confused, she still paused the video and turned to Corinna. 

“Someone is going to get in trouble for leaking the contract. I don’t need any of my friends to get in more trouble because of what I—“ Sam began to grow panicked but was quickly interrupted. 

“Molly took care of it. She sent an email from Guenther’s computer with the contract attached to Sebastian. I’m not sure of the specifics but Mick said she made it look as though he accidentally cc’d the GPDA email account while meaning to cc the stewards instead. Than she deleted it from his computer completely. That smart little friend of yours really covered their trail well.”

Sam smiled, relieved. She didn’t want to know the specifics of Molly having access to her boss’s computer— plausible deniability at its finest. With that, she pressed play again and was met with Lewis on her screen. 

The soon-to-be-retired driver was so eloquent and well-spoken with his words, that the way he went about and explained the unfairness and bias within Sam’s situation even made it clearer for her, and she was the one experiencing it. 

Then came George. 

“We’ve decided to campaign to racing drivers across the globe. Those who race under the FIA and those who do not.”

Then, it switched to Valterri, “Veterans and rookies.”

On to Max, “Men and women.”

Antonio was next, “Near and Far”

And to Sam’s shock, a stoic-looking Lando, “Young and old.”

Lance followed, “From any formula series to NASCAR to endurance racing to IndyCar to motocross, all the way to karting. Your voice matters.”

Kimi Raikkonen made an appearance as well, “Your voice helps.”

Yuki came next and Sam couldn’t help but crack a small smile, “Help us take a stand against discrimination.”

Then Carlos, “Help us create a safe space for every racer who steps foot in our paddock.”

Nicholas Latifi was after, “Help us right a wrong.”

Despite being a reserve driver, Alex Albon appeared next. 

“Help our friend come home.”

And an even bigger shock was that Charles followed, “In a time like this your support is not only crucial, but appreciated as well. We ask that you sign the petition linked here to help Sam return to the track.”

Daniel appeared next and her heart dropped. Everything she’d done to him, everything she’d said to him, over the last few weeks fell onto her at the sight of his somber, familiar, brown eyes. Even the sound of his voice sent a shockwave through her. 

“We are all race car drivers. But at the end of the day, when the helmet comes off, we’re humans too. Humans who struggle. Humans with emotions. Humans who deserve to be treated as such. We are not tools, trophies, paydays, or pawns. We are just 20 people doing our job.”

Esteban followed, "If you cannot sign the petition, share this post any way possible and help spread the word and condemn the actions by the FIA, Formula 1, and HAAS F1 Team taken against Sam, before our deadline of Sunday night at 6:59pm Gulf Standard time.”

Another surprise to Sam was to see Pierre, “We were told by our superiors that together, we race as one. It’s time we hold them accountable to see that true.”

The screen went dark and a link appeared, followed by the names of all of the drivers within the video listed under a placard with the words “endorsed by” written in large red letters. 

Sam could barely utter a word after what she’s just watched. She looked at the phone in shock, the screen still frozen on the ending frame. 

“They did all of this, for me?” Her whisper nearly got lost over the crashing of the waves. 

Corinna nodded, “Just like my husband told you all those years ago when he came to see you after your father had passed. There are people out here who care about you… sometimes it’s alright to just let us.”

She smiled, tears brimming in her eyes, and pulled the woman back into another hug. 

“That was posted 3 days ago. The deadline is tomorrow, and they already have 693 signatures.”

Sam’s mouth dropped. 

“Mick and Sebastian called many of Michael’s old racing buddies to get their support. The people over at Mercedes put out a stamens that you still have a seat next year if all works out. George and Lewis sent out a detailed rundown of your situation. And Daniel… Daniel used his charm and called as many of his friends across the globe as possible. The notion and the ban were overruled, and the FIA put out a statement saying that you are welcome to race in Abu Dhabi…” 

“But next season…” Sam said knowingly.

“You’d have to place in the top 3 in this race for them to agree to let you come back. The drivers and teams are trying to protest that as well, but the administration said that this was the only way they were willing to compromise.”

The top 3 was hard, especially in such a shitty car. yes, Sam had done it before, but it wasn’t easy. And after reading headlines, she too was convinced her podiums had been at the hand of luck. It worried her, she didn’t know if she could do it.

Most of all, ater everything she’d done and said, her friends were still trying to help her. But despite the gesture, and the opportunity, she wasn’t sure she should follow through. 

Sam took a deep breath, “I don’t know, Corinna. I don’t think I can go back. It’s exhausting. And I don’t think I can sacrifice my mental health to try and live my dreams and break these barriers people keep preaching about. I love what I do but I don’t know how long I can do it if it’s gonna be anything like last season. The headlines. The rumors. Everything. I just— I just don’t know if I can handle it.”

Corinna just sat quietly and allowed Sam to get everything off her chest. The fact that she hadn’t even needed to facilitate Sam opening up about this just proved to her that the girl she’d known since she was a child needed to just be heard for a change. 

“It sounds dumb, but I’m so exhausted being the outlier. For once in my life I want to blend in and be allowed to. Being the bigger person is the right thing to do but, god I’m so sick of it. Why do I always have to change for others? Why can’t they adapt to me for a change? I just want them to treat me fairly. I want them to understand how hard I’ve worked for this. I want them to see me like any other driver. But at the same time, I want to stop putting on this show for everyone that I’ve been acting in for years. I want to drop my walls and make them hurt, make them pay, make them regret the day they chose to use me as a publicity stunt.”

Her anger was pure but so were the tears beginning to cascade down her face. Sam took a moment to control her breathing and collect herself. She turned to Corinna, her tone genuine and even a bit pleading, “I want them to apologize.”

Now the tears came quicker, but not as quick as the way Corinna pulled Sam into her embrace. 

The woman whispered in Sam’s ear as she pulled her head closer with a mother’s touch, “You have to want something else more.”

Sam’s response was muffled into Corinnas' shoulder before she lifted her head, “I want to be gentle, I want to be kind, I want to be happy. But when life gets hard and people turn their guns at me, I feel like have no other choice than to get harder to match.”

She leaned into the woman’s touch on her shoulder, turning her gaze out into the ocean once again and allowing it to wash the smallest sensation of calm over her, “Everybody always tells me ‘this isn’t how it’s supposed to be’ and ‘it’s not supposed to be like this’. But it is. This is what reality is for me. I never know what I’m going to accomplish in each race, but it has to be perfect. I can’t make any mistakes, I can rarely be involved in raveling incidents. It has to be irreproachable in every way in and off the track…”

Cortina cut her off empathetically, “But why? Why can’t you make mistakes like everybody else?”

“I have to make up for it,” Sam took a deep breath, “I have to make up for the fact that it’s me.”

The older woman stared at the girl, devastated at what the young child she once adored had blossomed into to try and survive. 

“Some people laugh while others try to help. And everybody that surrounds me… they’ve got their hands wrapped around my hope— the hope that maybe they’ll listen, maybe things will change. And they’re tightening their grip and squeezing the life out of it. So I— I don’t know how much longer I can do this. And with this offer, I don’t know what to do now. Do I go back, do what I love surrounded by the people I love, but sacrifice a part of me I care so much about? Or do I leave a life I’ve spent years building behind for the sake of my sanity? It’s just so overwhelming.”

She threw her hands over her face, hoping it would hide her from the word as she hid the world hid from herself.

“Samantha, take a deep breath. When you don’t know where you are going, all you have to do is stand still. I’m so proud of you for sticking around as long as you did. It couldn’t have been easy. This world can be such a cruel place sometimes; that’s why you’re so courageous simply by waking up each day and facing what’s ahead. Think of it like this: being born in a burning house makes you believe that the world is on fire. But it is not. There is so much in store for you outside of these fears. Know that some of your best moments are still waiting for you down the line and there are so many people waiting for you there. Yes, the world is messy, but we must find the beauty among the chaos. There are still so many places to go, races to win, cultures to experience, people to love, words to say, and memories to make.”

Sam’s mind raced, thinking of the possibilities the future held if she were to go back. The races, the places, the opportunities, the people— the person. She fought a smile as she continued to listen to what Corinna had to say, “And I know you Samantha, I’ve known you for a long time. So I know how you fear you are always putting others out by being what you think is a burden. But you don’t have to carry the heaviest burden for your struggle to matter. It doesn’t matter if other people have it worse, or if they’ve hurt longer than you, or if someone is going through the same struggle but is handling it worse. If something is painful for you, then it is painful for you. And if it affects you, it is important, and it matters. Your struggle is real regardless of what anybody says. You’re allowed to be hurt, to be affected, to feel broken or sad, and most importantly you’re allowed a space to talk about it. And the people who care about you do not feel it is a burden when you talk about it. We will always care because we care about you. The people who are meant for you will find you on the other side of all of this. We’ll help you build a new comfort zone around the things that actually move you forward, not connect you to the parts of your past that tie you down. Instead of being liked, you will be loved. And instead of just being understood, you are going to be seen.”

Corinna put her hands on Sam’s cheeks, “all you are going to lose by opening up to us is the walls that were built for a person you no longer are. Embrace the people who are willing to see you for who you are, not who everybody expects you to be. Nobody will ever be able to understand what you had to endure to heal, to grow, to be here, to be you. Be proud of the way you fought to save yourself. Be proud of the way you survived…”

Sam smiled, but the way the tears in her eyes illuminated the regret— the guilt— made Corinna fear she may have not helped Sam decide, just remind her of what she is incapable of doing. 

“I pushed my friends away, I did horrible things, said horrible things and all they wanted to do was be there for me. There’s nothing to be proud of about that,” Sam sniffled and wiped her tears. 

“Sam, you know you have a big heart when you feel bad about doing what’s best for you. You just did it in a… rather unconventional way. And about those friends of yours…” Corinna reached into her back pocket and handed Sam something. It took her a moment to register what it was. 

An envelope with her name on it, written in the messy handwriting she immediately recognized as Daniel’s. 

It took her a decent amount of time to get through the thick letter, but by the time she finished reading what Daniel had written to her, her mind was set. Now more than ever, Sam was determined. 

Determined to get back. 

Determined to fix things. 

Determined to get on that podium. 

Determined to get back what she had stolen from herself. 

She turned to Corinna, “we better get going if we’re gonna make it back in time for the race.”

The woman cheered and clapped at Sam’s choice, pulling her in for yet another hug. 

Less than two hours later, Sam was on a flight to Abu Dhabi, her itinerary displaying that she would touch down with 2 hours to spare. That meant she would make it to the paddock roughly 30 minutes before the race started. 

It was going to be close. Hell, if Sam could pull this off it would be a miracle. 

But if there’s one thing about Samantha Thompson, it’s that she would never turn away from a challenge. Not anymore. Not when she finally knew how many people she had on her side.

ONE BAD NIGHT

Daniel Riccardo x F1!Driver reader

Summary: A song fic based on Hayley Kiyoko's song "One Bad Night"

Notes: I was listening to Hayley Kiyoko ( if you don't know who she is, I recommend listening because she is amazing) and it really inspired me to write this fic. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU LISTEN TO THE SONG AS YOU READ THIS!!!!!! Let me know what you think in the comments! xoxo

Word Count: 1.3k

The night air was charged with excitement as the roar of engines filled the air. The Formula 1 circuit was alive with the electric energy of competition, and amidst the fast-paced chaos, you stood poised at the starting line. As a female driver in a male-dominated sport, you had faced countless obstacles to get to this point. But tonight, as the lights flashed and the engines revved, you were determined to prove your worth.

Among the crowd, your eyes locked with the charismatic Australian driver, Daniel Ricciardo. His infectious smile and magnetic personality had always captivated you, and tonight was no exception. The connection between you was immediate, as if the universe conspired to bring you together on this fateful night. It felt like yesterday when you first met him.  

-

The sun beat down on the asphalt as the Formula 1 paddock buzzed with excitement. It was a hot summer day, and the air was thick with the smell of rubber and anticipation. As a young and determined female driver, you stood in the midst of it all, ready to take on the world of motorsport.

Among the sea of mechanics, engineers, and fellow drivers, your eyes caught sight of a familiar face – Daniel Ricciardo. His vibrant smile and infectious energy seemed to light up the paddock, drawing people towards him like a magnet. It was hard not to be captivated by his charm and the aura of positivity that surrounded him.

As fate would have it, you found yourself crossing paths with Daniel near the garage. The lyrics of Hayley Kiyoko's "One Bad Night" echoed in your mind, as if they were predicting the significance of this encounter. There was an instant connection, a spark of recognition that passed between you, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together.

You mustered up the courage to approach him, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He turned towards you, his eyes lighting up with genuine curiosity. At that moment, you knew there was something special about him – something that drew you closer.

"Hi," you said, your voice filled with a blend of determination and excitement. "I've admired your racing skills and your positive energy. It's an honor to meet you, Daniel."

Daniel grinned, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Well, it's great to meet you too! I've heard about your talent on the track. We should definitely grab a coffee sometime and talk racing."

You felt a surge of excitement and gratitude. The lyrics of the song played in your head, echoing the possibilities that lay before you. It was the beginning of a friendship – a connection that would soon blossom into something more.

In the weeks that followed, you and Daniel found yourselves spending more and more time together. Coffee dates turned into late-night conversations about racing strategies and dreams. He listened intently to your stories of overcoming obstacles and breaking barriers as a female driver, his support unwavering.

The more you got to know Daniel, the more you realized how genuinely kind and down-to-earth he was. Despite his success and fame, he remained humble and grounded, always making time for those around him. He became your confidant, someone you could lean on during the highs and lows of the racing world.

As the friendship deepened, you couldn't ignore the growing affection between you. The lyrics of the song took on a new meaning, reflecting the emotions that swirled within your hearts. There were stolen glances, subtle touches, and moments that felt like they were straight out of a fairytale.

One fateful evening, as the sun set over the paddock, you found yourselves alone, lost in each other's gaze. The lyrics of "One Bad Night" whispered through your mind, fueling the courage within you.

"I've come to realize that one bad night ain't enough to forget you," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. "I don't want to let fear or doubt hold us back. Let's take a leap of faith, Daniel."

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with the same affection mirrored in your own. "I couldn't agree more. Life's too short to let opportunities slip away. Let's embrace whatever comes our way, together."

And in that moment, surrounded by the whispers of the song, you knew that this meeting was more than just chance. It was destiny, weaving your paths together in a tale of love and racing that would transcend the boundaries of the track. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you held hands, ready to

 embark on a journey filled with exhilarating twists, heart-pounding turns, and a love that would endure the trials of the racing world.

The race began, and the adrenaline coursed through your veins as you pushed your car to the limits. Every twist and turn was executed with precision, every decision calculated in the blink of an eye. The lyrics of "One Bad Night" echoed in your mind, the haunting melody mirroring the yearning in your heart.

"One bad night ain't enough to forget you," Hayley Kiyoko's voice echoed as you raced, the words resonating with the passion burning within you. It was a love that defied logic, one that refused to be extinguished by the challenges of the racing world. As the laps flew by, you found yourself locked in a fierce battle with Daniel, each maneuver and strategy pushing you closer together.

With every lap, the chemistry between you intensified. The lyrics of the song played in your head, the words capturing the unspoken desires and emotions swirling within your soul. It was a dangerous dance, one where the line between victory and defeat blurred with the intoxicating allure of love.

As the race reached its climax, you found yourselves side by side, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. The cheers of the crowd melded with the crescendo of the song, the lyrics becoming an anthem of the connection you shared.

"One bad night ain't enough to forget you," the words reverberated as you fought for every inch of the track. The world around you disappeared, and it was just you and Daniel, two hearts intertwined in a battle of wills and emotions.

And then, in a split second, it happened. A daring move, a calculated risk that paid off. You overtook Daniel, claiming the lead with a surge of adrenaline. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices blending with the lyrics that now took on a whole new meaning.

But as the race concluded, and the checkered flag waved, a bittersweet realization settled in. The racing world was demanding, often tearing apart the most fervent of connections. The lyrics of the song now took on a different tone, reflecting the challenges that lay ahead.

"One bad night ain't enough to forget you, but I'll try," the lyrics echoed, mirroring the inner turmoil you faced. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with obstacles that threatened to separate you both. But the connection you had formed was undeniable, and you were determined to fight for it.

As the sun set and darkness embraced the paddock, you found solace in each other's arms. The lyrics of the song served as a reminder of the battles that lay ahead, but also of the love that burned bright within your hearts. Together, you vowed to defy the odds, to navigate the twists and turns of life and love with the same passion and determination that had brought you together.

"One bad night ain't enough to forget you," you whispered, your voice blending with the lyrics that resonated in the stillness of the night. It was a promise, a testament to the strength of your connection, and the beginning of a love story that would endure the challenges that lie ahead.

As the stars twinkled overhead, you and Daniel held onto each other, ready to face whatever came your way. Because one bad night was never enough to forget the love that had bloomed in the heart of the fast-paced world you both called home.

I'm Always Funny. You're Just Not Smart Enough To Keep Up. (Teaser!)

Max Verstappen X reader

Danny Ricciardo X reader platonic.

Not sure if anyone here is an F1 fan but I've recently gotten into F1 and I've started writing a small fanfiction of Max Verstappen Fake relationship Au! Please tell me if you like this and want the rest of it! Enjoy~

Max had just broken up with his long time girlfriend Kelly Piquet. 

They had disagreed on their future plans and had decided it would be better to part ways. It was an amicable split and Max still visited Penelope. However, the media wasn’t kind to him, not that it usually was.

Fans were in a roar over the split calling him all sorts of names for the past seven months.

It wasn’t too bad until the sponsors started to look a bit concerned over the state of the media.

Y/N, being a small town girl from Perth Australia, knew Daniel Ricciardo from when she was younger. His sister Michelle would babysit Y/N from time to time and that's how she came to meet the ever enthusiastic personality that was Daniel.

Daniel, alongside Michelle, had been like an older sibling to Y/N. He would always visit her or text her to catch her up on his state of affairs. 

After his ill-fated departure from Mclaren, to which Y/N was still fuming over. He had spent two months back in Australia, lounging around before Y/N and Michelle told him to get back into what he really loved.

Sure enough, Daniel returned to RedBull as a reserve driver alongside his old teammate Max Verstappeh and Sergio “Checo” Perez.

It was at this point Max had been receiving scalding comments and the Public Relations (PR) Manager had decided it would be a good idea for Max to date someone new with good media presence. Someone who the fans were bound to like.

That is exactly where Y/N came in. She had been featured on Daniel's social media before and made small cameo’s on RedBull and Mclaren videos, wishing Danny luck in his races or even supporting him in person.  

~~~~~~

Max walked alongside Y/N at a brisk pace. They were wading through the crowd of press just before the paddock and after the car park. Y/N was slightly uncomfortable with the firm grip that Max had on her hand but refrained from speaking up. He, after all, was paying her salary, so to speak. 

“Smile,” Max grunted out. Nodding at the press and giving half smiles in a seemingly out of character style. 

Y/N, who was already smiling hissed through her teeth.

“The hell you think I'm doin’ mate?” She then turned slightly away to wave at the photographers,

“Morning! Hope you’re all well rested! Make sure to drink enough water too!” She called out to the mass of people. Y/N understood that these people had to make a living and if you were nicer to them, they were bound to return the favour, although that was easier said than done.

Verstappen kept a pleasant expression as he continued to walk past people, signing hats along the way. 

“When can we stop this damn circus act?” He hissed into her ear, his voice sounding like the grind of gravel. 

“Whenever your PR Manager lets us.” She replied, her smile unfaltering as she kept walking beside him.

“This is all a stupid waste of money and time.” He grumbled under his breath. “This whole relationship thing and the sponsors.” Y/N cocked her head knowingly and replied,

"You need those sponsors and so does RedBull. Anyways, don’t give me a hard time because of it, yeah? I’m just doing my job to the best of my ability.” It wasn't as if she didn't want the money, however she also did it to help out Danny. Apparently the situation had made Max a little crabby.

Max sighed, “You have no idea who many different people we have to play happy couple for to satisfy the sponsors.” to which Y/N smirked and retorted with.

“I dunno, maybe the whole world, Mr Formula 1 World Champion?” Max rolled his eyes dismissively, effectively losing his facade.

“Do you know how much the sponsors pay me to keep you around? Don’t smart mouth me man.” He spat out, scowling and crossing his arms defensively. He pointed at the camera’s who had now turned back to you at the suddenly escalating conversation as moths were drawn to light.

Luckily they hadn’t heard the conversation, only seen the wild gestures that Max had thrown out in exasperation. 

Y/N, being the quick thinker she was, gently patted his shoulder and stepped closer to him,

“Calm down mate, they’re looking at us. Let’s just get inside the paddock yeah? Then we can argue when we get to the motor home.” She whispered slowly, hoping to ease his stress.

“Whatever, " Verstappen muttered, his voice ever harsh and monotonous.

He led her by the small of her back past the photographers and past the gates and into the paddock. He kept you firmly by his side while remaining silent. It seemed like he wasn’t going to talk until they were both tucked into a private building. Or as private as it would get.

As they briskly walked by, they passed some children who were staring in awe at Max. Y/N smiled at the children and tugged on his short sleeve gently.

“Max, give them an autograph! Look, they're so cute. This one’s wearing a mini version of your race suit!” She exclaimed, clearly taken by the children who were bubbling with energy.

Max, as a result of Y/N’s excitement, stopped walking and looked over at her with his signature grim expression before seeing the children. His eyes shifted and his expression became light hearted and almost charming.

“Yeah, alright I’ll sign a few things for you guys.” He grinned at the kids that had gathered around began thanking him incredulously in adoration as their favourite Formula one driver signed their shirts and caps.

Max suddenly turned to Y/N with a small smile,

“Here,” he said, handing her a sharpie, “You should sign one too. They’ll like it.” Y/N shook her head, shy from the sudden attention. 

“But I’m not famous like you. They don’t know me.” She turned to the children, sheepish, waiting for them to collectively agree. Yet, to her surprise one of the younger girls reached out to hug her and exclaimed,

“I know you! You’re Max’s girlfriend! My older brother says you’re pretty!” The little girl beamed up at her and pointed at an older male of similar facial structure who was blushing.

Y/N laughed in surprise and smiled brightly at the young girl.

“Hey love! Would you like me to sign your shirt?” She kneeled down to face the girl and all the younger kids. The children that were now surrounding you went crazy, screaming “Yes!” and “Please!”

They held out their belongings for her to sign, clearly overjoyed. She laughed in delight while Max looked on, while chatting to other young fans.

Y/N gave each of them a hug before signing their shirts.

“Oh and here!” She took out a large ziplock bag that was filled to the brim with friendship bracelets she had made for the fans.

“Take these! There’s enough for all of you.” She ruffled the closest childs hair. Max watched in amusement as the children who were absolutely beside themselves, trying on their new bracelets.

“You’re good with the fans,” he said, actually sounding genuine and kind for once. Y/N shook her head, smiling and waving at the children still as they walked away.

“Nah, I just love the kids. I want them to have good memories that build into hope and motivation.” She looked at Max and gave him a small smile.

“That’s very kind of you.” Verstappen replied, sounding surprisingly sincere. They both walked towards the motorhouse and as they reached the entrance Max opened the door for Y/N and signalled for her to enter.

Y/N walked through, thanking him on the way and waved hello while passing all the staff and volunteers of the Red Bull team.

The pair made their way, through all the greetings and then into Max’s room where Max closed the door behind them both and then turned to face Y/N.

“Alright, no more fake smiles or pleasantries. He sighed, “Do you know how long we’re stuck with this whole fake relationship thing?” He asked while plopping down onto his bed, unceremoniously to which Y/N shook her head. She herself was unsure.

“Nope. I was hired for a year-long contract but it wasn’t definitive,” She sighed and sat down on his chair and spun to face him.

“I think it wouldn’t be too bad for us to be friends Max.” She sat forward with her elbows on her knees.

“It’s not like we’re attracted to each other. It would make life easier if we got along, no?" Max stared at her, inquisitive.

“Friends.” He said slowly, almost as if tasting the word before he tilted his head to say,

“Friends don't usually get paid to be with one another.” Max raised his eyebrows.

“But, I guess being friends wouldn't be too bad. It’s not like anything would happen between us anyways.” Y/N nodded and chuckled, 

“I mean, I get paid to pretend to be your girlfriend. We could totally do it from afar y’know?” she shrugged, smiling.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Max said sarcastically. 

“I’ll just yell ‘I love you’ through a megaphone at you from a distance and we’ll keep it going that way.” He smirked mischievously, crossing his arms to which Y/N burst into laughter in sheer surprise. 

“Right! That would get all the fans roaring.” She chuckled loudly, enjoying his dry humour.  She gave him a genuine smile before asking, 

“You’re really funny when you want to be huh?”

Verstappen rolled his eyes with a subtle upturn in lips at your amusement. Y/N had an instinct that he was proud of the reaction he got out of her.

“I’m funny all the time.” He retorted, “You’re just not smart enough to pick up on it.” He said with a cocky smile.

~~

AND THATS THE TEASER! please comment if you'd like the rest!? Thank You for reading!