Playing for Keeps - Lando Norris
pairing: Lando Norris x (OFC) Daphne Girard
Daphne Girard was many things. A designer, a cat mom, a certifiable love island connoisseur, and kept a secret for most of her life. Being the bastard sister of Max Verstappen was the least interesting of them all, if you asked her.
content: a semi-slow burn friend's little sister romance, with a side of found family drama and real family angst.
warnings: Jos Verstappen's terrible parenting, anxiety attacks, self-image issues, eating disorders (soft mention), content warnings to be updated with chapters.
Chapter one under the cut!
This story can also be found on Wattpad & Ao3!
2016. HERTFORDSHIRE
A silent dorm. A window ledge seeped in water as the rain came down gently outside. She never quite remembered to shut it.
Her dorm mate Lily slept down the hall, her breaths soft and steady. Daphne pulled the blanket up over her head, cocooning herself in the warmth of the fabric as her laptop screen lit up the now hideaway of her bed.
She wished she could have watched it live, but she knew the risks of being asked too many questions she couldn’t answer. It was also easier to pause the stream when she began to feel her pulse in her own ears as the tension ramped up.
“And welcome back to FORMULA 1, and welcome to the 2016 SPANISH GRAND PRIX! We have what is shaping to be a very exciting race today-“
He didn’t even look nervous.
She watched as he stepped into the car, various straps and belts surrounding him. Watched as he flexed his fingers once, twice. Glimpsed down at her own as they mirrored the habit subconsciously.
Five lights out, and he was off like a bullet. Lap after lap, a pit stop 34 laps in. Daphne picked at her fingers, wincing when she finally drew blood.
He drove like he had something to prove. Maybe he did. So young and yet a raw talent, they were calling him the “one to watch”. To expect great things from the son of two racers. Like he was prophesized. Promised.
He looked like he could carry the weight of worlds on those shoulders. Even so young. She envied that.
A screech of tire and burnt rubber, and shit, both Mercedes were gone.
He was going to—
Max was going to win his first Grand Prix.
“Shit–!.”
Five laps to go. Four, three, two, a bump as he exits too sharply-
“The sun is out, the smiles will be out, at 18 years and 227 days old, MAX VERSTAPPEN WINS A FORMULA ONE GRAND PRIX, WINS THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX, AND IS THE YOUNGEST DRIVER EVER TO WIN A FORMULA ONE GRAND PRIX!”
“You did it.” She whispered, fingers brushing across the screen as his fists pumped in elation.
His first race in Formula 1, and he was a winner. Her eyes were wet, shiny with the weight of all he’d accomplished two countries away. His first on the top step, certain it wouldn’t be the last this season.
It was odd to be so incredibly proud of a boy she didn’t truly know. Knew she’d assigned her dreams and hopes on him, on what a brother could be. She also knew they’d never actually come to reality.
The rest was a blur. The anthems at the podium, the champagne spraying, the look of pure thrill on his face. She fell asleep to the sounds of cheers, his name echoing across the country as if to lull her to his side.
“Max, max, max, max!”
2015. LONDON. BEFORE
Daphne Girard still dreamt of the hazy warmth of Monaco.
England was cold and dreary, and when the heat finally arrived, it was stifling in its dry, cloying way. Five years living in London hadn’t dulled the melancholy of her homesickness, hadn’t lessened the pain of its loss like some phantom limb.
“We cannot go back there, cherie. Not now.”
She hadn’t understood the depth of her maman’s words at nine. Still didn’t understand it now, not really. How someone could be ruled by another so completely. Had cried silently as her nanny helped pack up her pink room with the clouds on the walls. Told over and over how it would be wonderful, a new start, a nice change.
They could start over in London. But why the need for a new start when she hadn’t even grieved an ending to this one?
But her father had convinced her mother it was time to go. A strong argument from a man she saw about three times per year. Even less now that she held opinions more and her tongue less. Anything to make him just look at her.
But Jos Verstappen usually got what he wanted. And he had wanted them out of Monaco.
Five years later, and she was fourteen when the phone rang. “Papa” across the phone screen. He would miss the latest visit, as a work requirement had come up. As if they weren’t both aware that he was in Canada for the Grand Prix.
It was the next point of topic, however, that had her reeling. Daphne had been enrolled at Haileybury boarding school and would start in six weeks. Another choice made for her, another box ticked.
She had never truly enjoyed her new school in London, but she had a few friends, enough of a life here that being uprooted to Hertfordshire felt like yet another starting line she’d missed.
A part of her rebelled at the idea, at yet another paradigm shift in the facets of her life and its stability. But the bigger part knew of certainties she couldn’t say aloud.
One, her mother had very little desire to parent her. Boarding school would rid her of that obligation.
Two, there would be no changing her father’s mind. Not when he still bankrolled a large portion of her very comfortable life, her mother’s trust fund aside.
Not when having her hidden away and quiet in the country would keep his secrets just a little longer.
And then three, the smallest, faintest feeling she identified as hope unfurling in her chest. An ounce of new identity, a freedom to be herself, to explore.
She could take art classes or dance as her athletic class. Sign up for a new foreign language.
Did they offer Dutch?
It would be nice to share a language with her siblings.
Jos only ever let the curse words slip. Everyone knew languages learned by shouting never truly stuck.
2018. HERTFORDSHIRE
Lily Zneimer was an angel in small, British form.
She’d been half terrified and half exhilarated at the thought of a dorm mate. What if they stole her clothes? Or hated how she’d set up her portion of the room? What if they hated reality television? Hiding a Love Island addiction would be difficult for an entire two months out of the year.
Lily had swept in and destroyed each worry before they could bloom. Their decor had matched somehow, their clothing soon becoming one communal closet.
Daphne smiled brighter, laughed longer. She had her first real friend, someone she knew, if given the chance, would stick around for life.
She didn’t believe in higher powers, but she thanked whichever one had brought her Lily. Even if it meant lying to her every day by omission.
At that moment, however…
“I hate you so bloody much,” Daphne muttered, groaning as she felt another tug on her ankle where it stuck out from under her sheets.
“You love me, you lying little liar.” Lily mused with what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “I’m not the one who set up a 10 A.M study session on our one free Saturday morning. I’m also not the one who decided to stay up late doing god knows what. I saw the light under the door at three, Daph.”
“Got caught up in a rerun.” The blonde whined aloud and burrowed deeper into her pink sheets. The rerun had been the free practices she’d missed that day. It had rained in Spa. She’d been worried, sue her.
The reminder of the study session had her shooting up in bed, every ounce of exhaustion gone from her frame. Lily startled, immediately suspicious of the look on her face.
“What have you done?”
“Whatever could you mean? Am I not allowed to be thrilled for my own education?”
Lily scoffed, eyeing her as Daphne reached for a hoodie to pull over her frame. “You’re not even getting fully dressed? You once said pajamas as day clothes were for those who felt a little too dead inside.”
“Who am I impressing? It’s language tutoring.”
“You aim to impress when we sneak out to the shop down the road, Daph. Suddenly, we’ve stopped caring? Who’ve you got tutoring you in Dutch?”
“Japanese.”
“…..what?”
“I’m being tutored in Japanese today.”
“You don’t take Japanese.”
“That is correct. But Oscar does.”
“Daphne!” She managed to dodge the pillow pelted her way by a hair, though it did skim said hair and make the blond strands stand on end with static. “Lily!”
“You didn’t!”
“I very much invited Oscar to tutor me in Japanese. If he can’t remember that I don’t actually take it due to being too busy staring at you, I am not to blame.”
Lily’s cheeks reddened, the flush high and bright as she slumped onto the bed. “The second he realizes you don’t actually need help, he’ll just—“
“Just what? Find an excuse to sit with you and discuss yet another random topic for far too long? Lils, yesterday at dinner, he managed to discuss a boy band his sister seems to love for an hour. He didn’t even remember the name of the band!”
“But he tried so hard, even described their colorful hair in detail,” Lily muttered, eyes on her fingers as they twisted anxiously in her lap. Daphne rejoined her amidst the unmade blankets, her head finding the brunette’s shoulder.
“He likes you. So, so much. Why you two keep toeing around one another…”
“It’s hard, he’s gone so often for his races.”
“That’s an excuse. He rarely misses class, just Fridays or weekends, and even when he does, he asks for your notes. Even though mine are far superior.”
“Color coding with too many highlighters doesn’t make them better, Daphne.”
“Yes, it does, and you’re avoiding it now. Lils. I won’t push if you don’t feel that way, but the only person stopping you from being happy with him is you. What’s really going on?”
As Lily lay back against the sheets, Daphne followed her down. The two girls stared up at the tiled ceiling in silence.
“He’s going to be someone someday. Soon.” Lily’s voice was almost a whisper, soft and filled with a weight. Daphne felt her chest tighten with a kind of understanding she could never admit, could never really express, that she wanted to relate more than anything.
“And he’d be lucky to have you in his corner when he is. He isn’t like the other rugby boys. Seems…steadier. And like he could use someone like you. Everyone could, let’s be real. But we can settle for just Oscar for now. You’d be the hottest WAG there is. Like Posh Spice.”
Lily rolled onto her side, smile hesitant.
“You’re such a pain, Daph. I love you so much.”
“I love you more. Now go brush your hair, it’s giving pillow fight and not in a cute coming-of-age-film way. I will of course, remain here in my shabbiness.”
When 10 A.M arrived, so did one Oscar Piastri. Daphne swung the door open with a grin, smirking at the deadpan look on the boy’s face.
“Piastri.”
“Girard.”
“You are an angel for doing this, I really have been struggling quite a lot with—“
“Daphne, you take Dutch. You have been taking Dutch since we met. Almost three years ago.”
“So there is a brain in that head full of luscious hair!” She laughed at his harumph, gesturing for him to come inside. As he entered, he spotted Lily in the common area, curled on the sofa as she offered a soft wave. He was quick to offer his own in return, a soft hello to accompany. Her gaze returned to the small screen of her computer in her lap, and his gaze remained on her.
It was Daphne’s soft cough that startled him from it.
“Right, right— sorry.”
“Oscar.” Amusement tinged her voice now, watching him with the look he knew meant she was about to get her way. Daphne was just like that. A smile, a grin, and you were agreeing before you’d even heard the question. She reminded him of his sisters so often it ached. Hattie’s stubbornness, Mae’s sweetness. Edie’s vivacity.
“You don’t need tutoring in Japanese.”
“I do not need tutoring in Japanese. But you should stay.”
They stared each other down, his lips twisting into the soft smirk that mirrored her own. He sighed, one of defeat, tinged with the nerves he worked so hard to hide.
“Well alright then.”
_____
They’d raided the commons for snacks, Daphne even breaking out her emergency stash she had her nanny bring from her trip to Sweden during the last family visitation weekend. Bubs could solve any problem if you ate enough of them.
They’d air-played Lily’s laptop to the small TV on the wall, the three debating what to watch. Oscar was arguing valiantly for last week’s GP, wanting to prove a point he’d been rambling on about with Lewis’ tire strategy. Lily was voting for the terrible reboot of Charmed that she and Daphne had begun the week before.
Daphne had tuned them both out, too busy saving ideas to her theme list for the end-of-year ball.
“You have to see it, Lily, it was mental! He managed to make the one stop last twenty-six laps! Though I sort of do think a two-stop might’ve—“
“Not with how they botched Bottas’ stop so poorly. The man was preserving his sanity. The tire deg alone–” Daphne muttered to herself, freezing in realization as silence settled over the group for a lingering pause.
“What was that?” Oscar sounded far too pleased.
“I don’t care for your tone, Piastri.”
“Fuck my tone, Daphne. You know about Valterri Bottas’ tire strategy from Monza.”
“I saw an article somewhere, it lingered apparently.”
“Sure, nice try.” He’d leaned forward to study her, glimpsing at Lily for assistance but finding only confusion in her gaze. New information for them both, then.
“Daphne—“
“Oscar.”
“—Did I just discover your special interest?” She grimaced, locking her phone and sitting up to meet his gaze as he continued, thrilled. “I did! You watch Formula 1! Who’s your team? Your driver? You’re French, so either Grosjean or Gasly, I’d reckon.”
“I am Monegasque, you cretin! And neither. I don’t watch.” She could feel a tremble begin in her fingertips, the telltale shake in her voice as her chest grew tight.
“But you just…”
“I don’t watch!”
“Oscar.” Lily cut in, her eyes not leaving the now anxious form of her roommate. “Let’s leave it for now. Please? If she says she doesn’t watch, she doesn’t watch it.” She didn’t understand where Daphne’s anxiety was stemming from, but she’d never push her into revealing it, not in front of someone they hadn’t agreed upon.
Oscar glanced between the two of them, taking in Lily’s concern, noting Daphne’s anxious picking at her fingernails. Neither girl would meet his gaze. He softened, the blonde before him reminding him fiercely of his youngest sister. He remembered Mae’s anxiety vividly, the scratching, tinge of hysteria in her laugh when pressed about school, the girls there.
If Oscar was anything down to his core, it was an older brother. He softened, nodded in agreement.
“Right, my mistake. But I still refuse to watch the shitty Charmed reboot. New Girl instead, then?”
Daphne took a deep, shaky breath. And then another. Lily’s hand met her own and squeezed, a nice regulation.
“You’re speaking my language now, Oscy boy.”
_____
The moon’s glow lit the room in eerie softness. The hour was already plenty late as Daphne felt Lily slide into her bed with her. She couldn’t move from where she faced the wall, couldn’t bear to turn around and find disappointment in her face.
“I’m sorry.” The blonde whispered tremulously. It was all she’d been able to focus on for hours. The confusion on Lily’s face, the tremble of her own fingers. The pity in Oscar’s gaze.
“For what, D?” Lily’s hand met Daphne’s shoulder, a silent plea for the girl to turn around. She gave in, and Lily saw the way her blue eyes shone with wetness in the dim light.
“I made it weird. I wanted him here for you, and I spoiled it.”
“You spoiled nothing. ” Daphne felt her fingers held within the other girls and squeezed them back before she could process the shift. “We still had a great time today. I had a great time today. And that was because of you. Oscar understands an awkward moment. He had four today alone, babe.”
Daphne laughed, a wet sound. Lily pushed a bit, hesitant.
“Do you want to talk about what that was, though? You don’t have to, it's just...” She broke off, letting the silence buoy her onward. “I am never one to fault someone for wanting their secrets. But it’s you and me, and whatever it is isn’t new, isn’t recent. You’ve been carrying things since the day we met. And I feel like lately it’s gotten worse.”
Shame filled Daphne at the words. She was supposed to be better than this, supposed to be strong enough to carry the weight of the lies. Because that is what they were. Lies. She was lying to everyone. All the time. And it felt like a foot on her chest, pressing down more and more each day, every minute sometimes.
“I’m sorry.”
“No apologies, you never have to apologize for that, okay? I just want to help if I can. You help everyone around you all the time, Daph. I watch you put every single person before you. But not with me. Let me carry some of what this is. If you can.”
The clock in the hallway ticked its cadence like a death knell in the pause. Daphne could feel the words rise in her, feel the ache to share them and not be alone in her grief just this once. But could she?
Wasn’t she allowed someone? She was supposed to have her mother in this, but there was no depth of love felt for her daughter these days beyond how she looked in photos, how impressive she was on paper.
She reached into the sheets for her phone, opening the photos to her favorites tab. It was a good picture; she was six and her blonde braids gleamed in the light of Monaco’s summer. Her back garden, in front of the fairy village she’d created from sticks and ribbon, where she’d whispered secrets to the small creatures she imagined to be inside.
It was her beaming proudly at the camera, leftover ribbon tied to her braids. Her father had an arm wrapped around her, not smiling but not quite the normal frown he wore in her presence as the years dragged on. It was the kindest he ever looked, the most at ease he’d felt to her that day.
“This is my father.”
“That is Jos Verstappen. Your father….is Jos Verstappen?”
Daphne’s eyes shot up to meet Lily’s, surprise and terror wide in her gaze. “You know who he is?”
“Have you met Oscar? He’s given me a rundown on every driver and their history like the nerdiest F1 quiz show there is. Plus, my dad was a big Schumacher fan. Used to play the races on Sundays. Back to the point, Daphne.”
“Right.” She sat up, needing to lean back against the headboard. “He was married when he met my mother. I was not…planned. Wanted? I never fully cared to know the difference. But no one could know. Not back then when he still had his wife. And not now, with—“
“Max.” Lily finished with a grimace.
“He has his whole career ahead of him. A scandal of a bastard sister he’s never even met would mess with that.”
“First of all, you’re not a bastard, and if you say that again about my best friend, we’re gonna have words. But how is any of that fair to you, though?” Lily fumed, sitting up with her and shoving her hair from her face. There was no moment to try and believe her, nothing but absolute faith in what Daphne said. That realization shouldn’t have felt so warm in her chest at the thought.
“You get to spend your life as some dirty secret? You have a whole extended family you don’t get to have because he’s what, scared? It’s not as if your mother is ever caring enough to—“
“Lily.” It was a plea, a whisper of a beg for understanding.
“—Sorry, sorry. That’s not fair of me. Your mother is…your mother.” Neglectful, she wanted to finish. Absent, she wanted to scream out. Never around for you when you need her, when you need someone in your corner. Celia Girard was not in Lily’s good books.
Lily let the anger drain with each breath, each steadying moment. Someone deserved her anger, but it wasn’t her best friend in front of her. The girl who owned so much of her heart and expected nothing in return.
“You have a family, Daphne Helene.”
“I….know? I just showed you my dad. You’ve met Maman.”
“No, not them. They are DNA and financial security. I mean family, family. You still have a family. Me, and Lexi too. My mom adores you, and Dad still asks after you when we chat on Tuesdays.”
“You have me, okay? Oscar, too, even if I drag him kicking and screaming. He’ll appreciate a way to repair the vibes after shoving his foot so far down his throat.”
The tears were swift, a cough that could have been either a laugh or a sob. “You’re insane.” She mused, reaching to collapse into Lily in a hug. “Mental. Certifiably.”
“Nope. I am determined. I’ve decided to adopt you, but like, sisterly. Who needs Jos fucking Verstappen when you have me? I outrank him now.”
Daphne reached into her nightstand drawer, a pink Swedish sweets packet held out in apology. “You absolutely do.”
Lily snagged two from the packet, holding one back out to Daphne for a toast.
They smushed candies amidst giggles, tears slowly drying on Daphne’s pale cheeks. “To family, being what we make it. We build our own here, babe.”
The blonde could only nod, smiling too widely in the dim room to ever deny her.
“To family.”
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