sediciquattro
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They both have girlfriends. They’re meant to be just teammates. But as the season unfolds, banter softens, touches linger, and one kiss changes everything—loving the wrong person at the wrong time, and quietly hoping the right ending might still find them.
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“Well, nice to meet you officially then, Max,” George says as they step away.
For a brief moment, Max thinks this is it. He’s been unmasked, George knows who he is, finally remembers him. But when he looks up, the man is as surprisingly casual as he’s been since they got out of their cars, no recognition in sight. He sighs in relief, nodding as he watches how George offers his hand.
“Yeah. Nice to meet you, George Russell,” he mutters. He delights in the laughter it earns him, George’s palm warm against his own.
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Jos Verstappen had a son. A gifted child, a prodigy, promised to a solid racing career- Until he vanished without a trace. Jos pretends the kid simply didn’t have it in him, lacked the drive, tells whoever will listen the boy bolted away as soon as he could.
Truth is, Max has been drifting aimlessly for years, since his father threw him out the door, and crushed any attempts he’s made to pursue his dream. He goes from place to place, race to race in underground circles, with no goal in sight but the next thrill to come. Until a chance encounter with two-times championship winner George Russell, who’s grown weary of being at the top of his game, changes things.
Bookmarked by sediciquattro
31 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
i love these people like they were my own
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- Words:
- 186,763
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- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 18
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“George is not my boyfriend,” Max responds automatically. Then, “he’s mad at me again.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. He’s always mad at me.”
No one bats an eye at them, not really. It’s an open secret around the paddock that they sometimes fuck when they’re not fighting and sometimes when they are fighting. It’s stress-relief, sex you don’t need to sign an NDA for. It works even if George causes him more stress than he relieves. At least he’s quiet with a dick in his mouth. Sometimes.
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Charles Leclerc has two problems.
Problem one: Iron Man. Insufferable. Narcissistic. Calls him baby during briefings and makes inappropriate comments about his ass in those red regulation trousers. Charles wants to throw him off a tower. Preferably daily.
Problem two: Max Verstappen. Brilliant. Kind. Has the most distracting blue eyes Charles has ever seen. Charles wants to kiss him senseless. Preferably daily.
It takes Charles an embarrassingly long time to realize he only has one problem.
Bookmarked by sediciquattro
23 Mar 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
the only lestappen dynamic i will read from now on