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Max Verstappen always believed himself to have a clear mind, he always knew what he felt even if he didn't show it, even when it's something fucked up from his childhood that he has to laugh about or else he would lose his mind over it. He was always sure of himself until George Russell.

Max knew when his relationship with Charles was ending, it was inevitable. Neither of them were happy anymore, they were constantly snapping at each other for no reason and decided to call it off before they get to a place where they can't even stand to be around each other. After the break up Max and George kept running into each other all the time, one night they were in George's hotel room after a disappointing race on both of their ends and one thing let to another and they fucked to put it plainly.

It was so easy after that, they both needed to release stress so they decided why not use each other? Max kept telling himself every time after they slept together that it's just sex but when George was asleep in his bed, his curls messy and clinging to him, Max really couldn't deny the warmth it made him feel, as much as he hated to admit, looking at George while he slept, playing with his soft hair as he mumbled incoherently, it made Max feel things that he didn't want to feel. Not for George at least.

Max was pacing around his hotel room, he didn't know what to do or think, he just had an amazing time with George and they didn't have sex! They're not friends and they're certainly not lovers so it wasn't a date but why does it feel like it was one? Why did Max not hate it? Why is he so confused? Max sat down. He has a piece of paper and a pen in front of him and he began to write.

REASON TO NOT BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH GEORGE RUSSELL!

Max started his list.

1. Always complaining.

George always has something to say or add on. His full, pink lips form a pout before he starts ranting. Max can't help the way it makes his heart ache for George, he can't stop his mind screaming at him to just grab George and kiss him until they're both gasping for air.

2. Clingy.

After sex George would cling to his side, he would nuzzle his face onto Max's neck or shoulder depending what position they're in. Max's left hand would always be in George's hair, playing with his soft curls, his right hand would be wrapped around George's waist.

3. Overly emotional.

George has tendencies to cry over stupid things. Like when they were at the beach together there was a bird with a broken wing that Max didn't think too much of but later in bed George just started crying so much and Max was so worried because he thought he had hurt George but then he started talking about the bird and how it's all alone and can't fly anymore and how horrible that is. Max didn't like seeing George crying. His bright blue eyes were all red and puffy and it made Max's heart ache in such a painful way that he can't even begin to understand.

4. Talks too much.

He's always ranting about something or talking about whatever inconsequential thing no one really cares about. He talks faster the more passionate he is about something, his already bright eyes lights up more if that's even possible and he's always gesturing with his hands. He falters sometimes when he thinks no one is listening but Max is. He could never bring himself to look away from George Russell.

5. Not Charles.

Max is very much over Charles but he can't help but make the comparison. They're both so different, Charles is more free whereas George is more disciplined. George is sensitive and cares too much about everything and he's just so frustrating sometimes and God help him because all of those things are the things he loves about George.

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𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞

Max is in the shower, I'm not snooping I'm just looking at the books on Max's bookshelf! I didn't think Max read this much but he has quite a few books here, I reach for one of the books from the shelf and a folded piece of paper falls from the shelf. I open it, I don't know why but I do.

Reasons to not be with George Russell.

Oh.

I reread the list a few times. Always complaining, clingy, overly emotional, talks too much and the one that hurt the most, not Charles. It really shouldn't hurt but fuck it does, it hurts so much and it shouldn't because I knew he didn't like, I know he isn't over Charles yet I let him in my bed, I let him in me knowing he thinks all those things about me, how pathetic is that?

I don't even register what I'm thinking, my heart is racing, my hands are shaking and I feel like I'm about to throw up. I shouldn't feel like this, I have no right to feel this way, Max isn't my boyfriend so why does it hurt so much? I grab my phone and leave. I don't know what to do or think but I do I just can't see Max right now.

My head is spinning, I feel so fucking sick and I can't stop the tears from falling from my eyes, I'm in the elevator but I don't know where I'm going, my room is next to Max's but I just can't be there, I just really can't be near him at all. I feel like I'm about to pass out and throw up all at once, it's disgusting and I shouldn't feel like this because I always knew deep down he never liked me, not that he ever claimed to but I can't help it, maybe his stupid list is right, maybe I'm emotional and clingy and complains too much, he may be right but it still hurts so fucking much.

The elevator opens but I stay in, I don't think I can leave the elevator without fainting. My vision is blurry and I feel myself falling, I feel someone catching me before it all when black.

I wake up in someone's couch. Everything is so bright and for a second I forget about Max, his list and everything I felt since reading it but it was only a second I forgot for then everything coming rushing back to me and I feel the tears again, streaming down my face and I hate myself for it.

"George..."

I hear a familiar deep Austrian accent say gently. I sit up slowly, tears still streaming down my face against my will as I bring my knees to my chest and try to wipe this tears away.

"George... Whatever happened, it's okay, alright? Whatever it is, I just need you to breathe okay? Can you do that for me?" Toto says to me as if I'm an inconsolable child rather than his employee but I nod regardless. He hands me a glass of water and I take a sip before handing it back to him.

"What happened?" Toto asked gently, sitting beside me.

"I-" I stop myself from talking after hearing how unsteady my voice sounds.

"Its okay, take your time." Toto says. I take a deep breath and breathe out. I feel so pathetic. I'm crying as I have anything to cry about and to my boss of all people.

"Max... Made a list... About all the reasons why he wouldn't be in a relationship with me." I finally say and feel beyond ridiculous for saying. I look away from Toto's unreadable gaze.

"He's a fool then." Toto says after a few minutes of silence. I still can't bring myself to look at him. I feel so dumb. I'm crying to my boss about a man who doesn't want me.

"Look at me, George." Toto says. I don't. My gaze is fixed on the floor, I feel his large hand grabbing my jaw gently, making me look at him. I feel ridiculous but at least I finally stopped crying.

"He is a fool if you can't see what a prize you are." Suddenly my head is spinning again. Hearing Toto say that means a great deal but the intense eye contact and his hand holding my face reminds me of things it shouldn't, if things Toto and I agreed didn't happen.

"It means a lot that you think that..." I say, gently removing his hand from my face but not letting go of his hand. There's a quite silence for a moment, his hand in mine, the size difference is uncanny. His thumb is rubbing ciomforting circles on my hand.

"Toto..." I say, almost breathless.

"George." He says back, his voice steady and his gaze isn't breaking from mine and for once I don't look away. Before either of us could say anything Toto pulls me onto his lap to straddle him. I kiss him.

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George has been acting weird ever since he just left my hotel room a few nights ago. He has been distant, not cold but just not his normal self either. It's bothering because George hasn't actually paid me any attention since ever since and I don't know why. Normally he's always happy to see me but I feel like he's been avoiding me because after the race I tried to talk to him but all I got was a congratulations for finishing P2 before he walked away. It's annoying. He's not usually like this so something must definitely be wrong.

A bunch of drivers are having dinner together to celebrate Isack's podium and George is here so maybe I can talk to him without him walking away after three fucking seconds. George is currently talking to Alex, I listen to them for a bit before easing my way into their conversation.

"You did a great job today Alex." I say, offering a smile.
"You too George, well you know, given the fact that there was a hole in your car you did a great job too." I then said, turning to George who already looks done with the conversation that I just started.

"You did a good job too Max." Alex said and there was a few seconds of silence because George spoke again. "Excuse me, I'm going outside for a bit of air." He said, placing his drink down and just like that he's gone. Unbelievable. I don't know why he's acting like this and avoiding me. I follow him out.

George is texting someone. He doesn't seem to notice that I'm outside with him.

"Who are you texting?" I asked, trying to sound casual as if I didn't follow him out here like some fucking stalker.

"It's none of your business." The Birt replied, not even sparing me a glance. That pisses me off.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I asked not even hiding how furious I am. That gets his attention.

"What?" He asks, putting his phone in his pocket.

"I asked what the fuck is your problem because you clearly have one. Why else would you be avoiding me?" I say, trying to calm down but he's so incredibly frustrating by just standing there and looking gorgeous and not even giving me the time of day!

"I don't know what you're talking about Max." He replied, turning away to look at the moon. He's just pissing me off now. I can't help myself. I grab his arm, pulling him back so he's pressed up against my chest.

"Don't play dumb, schat. It's insulting to both of us" I whisper in his ear while wrapping my arms around his waist knowing he'll start squirming soon. "You've been avoiding me." I say again, looking down at his bare neck, wanting to leave marks on his porcelain skin.

The cool air passes though us gently and my eyes never leave his body. He pulls away from me.

"Don't do that. We're in public." He says but the hunger for him doesn't leave me gaze and he's beginning to notice that. He looks away. My mind goes blank for a few seconds before all I can feel is rage.

"What the fuck is that?" I glare and he looks back at me with a confused look on his face. "On your neck. I didn't leave that there because you've been avoiding me for two fucking days George and now I see why."

"So what? We're not in a relationship Max. I can do whatever I want and whoever I want, you don't own me." He says it like it's no big deal. Like he's had other casual hook ups. I know him. George Russell doesn't do casual hook ups, he doesn't sleep around but clearly he did and isn't bothered that I'm furious.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?! Who did you sleep with George?" I asked demandingly. It's pissing me off more because I'm clearly upset about it and he's acting as if it's okay. It's not.

"It's none of your business Max." He said firmly.

"Were you texting him? When I asked you who were texting, was that him?" I push harder, wanting to who else's bed George was in.

"Again Max, it's not your business!" He says growing frustrated. Good. "Not my business? You've been in my bed for the past four months but suddenly it's not my business?"

"Not suddenly. It was never your business and never will be so just drop it!" He snaps.

"Yes it is my business becau-" He cuts me off.

"No it's not! We're not together Max. We had an agreement, one that involved seeing other people because again, we're not in a relationship! So no. It's not your business. What I do is of no concern to you and I'll have sex with whoever the fuck I want because I'm a grown adult and I certainly don't need your permission!" George yelled and I wanted to yell back but he was already going inside and I'm still out wondering who the fuck is seeing.

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𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞:

Toto and I said it wouldn't happen again. We said it the first time, we said it the second and third and now we're just saying it knowing we're lying to ourselves. When I'm with Toto it's different, I don't feel the piercing ache in my chest that I feel whenever I look at Max. I don't feel the need to be perfect and put together all the time when I'm with him but I want to be, I did for a long time but then Las Vegas 2024 happened.

I remember it so clearly, Toto was so proud of me and it was the greatest feeling ever knowing I made him proud, knowing I did well enough to earn the praise of the man I respected the most made me feel things that I couldn't even begin to explain. Later that night he stopped by my hotel room and we talked for what felt like forever and I didn't know what came over me and I kissed him. He kissed me back.

The morning after we said it was the last time but it really wasn't and we both knew it.

Now, after that unpleasant dispute with Max outside of the restaurant I find myself craving Toto, needing him to take all of the pain and hurt away like he has done many times before. I don't care how horrible it is at this point I just need him, I just need to stop thinking about Max because I'm becoming sick of hearing myself think about a man who just doesn't care about me, who views me as a possession rather than a person, it makes me sick thinking about how much I do still genuinely like Max and I hate myself for. I was lost in thought when my phone vibrates. It's a text from Toto.

Toto: Come over tonight.

I read it twice before getting up. I say goodbye to Alex and Pierre and congratulated Isack one last time before leaving. I try to not think too much on the drive to Toto's place, I want my mind to be clear, I want to be good after how disappointing the race was, for me at least.

I knocked on the door twice before waiting, Toto opened the door, his expression is neutral and I can't but wonder if he's disappointed in me, just thinking it makes me nauseous. My mind is racing but then Toto started to speak.

"Aren't you going to come in?" He said looking at me like he could hear everything inside my head, like he knows that the thought of his disappointment is enough to destroy me. Without a word I walked in, closing the door behind me. I follow Toto up to his bedroom.

My hands are shaking, I fidget with my fingers a bit to make the shaking less obvious but it doesn't work because Toto takes my hands in his. He guides me to the bed and sits next to me.

"Are you nervous, George?" Toto asks gently. I shake my head no, not meeting his gaze. "Look at me." He says and I do. I look up at him and I don't think I can keep myself composed. Is he disappointed? Does he think I'm not good enough for Mercedes anymore? Was I ever good enough? I feel tears in my eyes and I hate myself for it. How pathetic must Toto think I am? I'm crying and he hasn't even said or done anything.

Toto's wiping away my tears and I feel stupid for letting him see me like again.

"It's okay, it's alright. I'm right here." He whispers to me and I break. I start sobbing."I'm sorry- I'm so sorry!" Is all I manage to say between sobs. I feel his hand on my back rubbing circles and I hear him telling me to breathe. "I... I didn't mean to disappoint you." I say after a while. "Disappoint me? You think you've disappointed me? George, there isn't anything you could do that would make me disappointed in you, do you understand?" He says firmly.

"I could've done more." I say knowing that a podium was a possibility today. "Your car was damaged, it's your talent that kept up in P4. There was nothing more that you could have done, you made the team proud, you made me proud." I feel lightheaded by his words. I made him proud. That's all I ever wanted, to make him proud. "You did good today George." He says pulling me onto his lap, his hands are on my waist.

"I need you." I confess.

"How much?" He teases causing a whimper to slip out of my lips.

"Please... Please I need you... Now." I say not caring how desperate I sound. Toto gently flips our position, I'm on my back and he's hovering over me. He kisses me. I kiss back.

It's messy, his lips on mine, his hands roaming my body, my hands in his hair, we're kissing until we're both breathless, he pulls away from my lips and starts kissing my neck, he's sucking and biting marks onto my skin and I wish to feel like this forever. His lips on me is heavenly, my hands leave his hair to tug at his shirt signalling that I want him to take it off.

My hands are on him the second his shirt is off, fingers tracing the hard lines of his chest, the warmth of his skin burning against my palms. He groans into my ear, low and rough, like he can feel me unraveling under him. I drag my hands lower, greedy, needing to feel all of him, and he catches my mouth again in a kiss that’s nothing but teeth and desperation.

His hips press into mine and I can’t help the sound that spills out of me, muffled between our lips. Every movement, every touch feels too much and not enough all at once. I tug at his belt with shaking hands, impatient, needing him closer, needing him bare against me. He laughs softly against my mouth, like he knows exactly how undone I am, but he helps me, pushing his pants down just far enough before his hands are on me again, tugging at my clothes with that same impatience and neediness.

When his skin finally meets mine, it’s electric. Every inch of me lights up under his touch, and I can’t stop myself from arching into him, from wanting more, more, more

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𝐌𝐚𝐱:

I've been pissed off ever since that fight with George. I don't know why he's acting like that or why he's so interested in seeing other people all of a sudden. He's never been like this before, he's not acting like himself and worst of all, he's letting another man leave marks on him and that's what's pissing me off even more. I call Daniel over to hang out today and really just get a second opinion on that argument with George.

Daniel arrives shortly after we talked on the phone. "Hey mate!" He greets with a smile. I give a nod, not being able to force a smile right now. "What's with that look?" He asked, sitting on the chair opposite to mine. "George." I say plainly. He raises a brow. "What's up with George?" He asked. "He's just acting so different!" I replied instantly. "We've been hooking up for a while now and then all of a sudden he's acting weird and during Isack's dinner celebration I followed him outside and he was texting someone and basically I was kissing his neck and there were hickeys there! Hickeys I didn't leave! And when I called him out on it all he had to say was that we're not together!" I take a breath after finishing telling him what happened.

"Wow... That's a lot." He says, stopping for a second before continuing. "Well, I mean he had a point mate. You two aren't together and h-" I cut him off. "Who's side are you on?" I glare but Daniel laughs like something is funny. "Don't laugh!" I yell. "I'm sorry for laughing." He says while still laughing. "It's just, weren't you the one who didn't want a relationship, especially not this soon after Charles." Daniel says and continues to talk. "It's a bit hypocritical that you're pissed at George, so what if he has another guy?" I feel my eye twitch at the last part of his sentence. "He can't have another guy!" I exclaim. "Why not?" Daniel asks. "He just can't. Not while he's with me." "But he's not with you." Daniel counters. "Daniel-" "Come on mate, you don't want a relationship, he don't want to do the whole boyfriend thing but you don't want George to be with someone else? Do you like him or is this just an ego thing?"

"I don't like him and this has nothing to do about my ego! It's about George. He's acting different. We haven't been with each other in like a week, he's avoiding me and when he does speak to me it's just fucking formalities! And who could he be seeing other than me? I need to know Daniel!" I explain, sighing afterwards at the fact that I haven't touched George in a week. "Why do you need to know? It's not your business." Daniel says plainly." You're starting to piss me off too." I say bluntly causing Daniel to laugh.

"I really don't get or understand why he's avoiding me. Do you think it's because of this new guy?" I ask. "Yeah probably." Daniel says. "You think it's someone we know?" I ask again. "I mean, most likely. Think about it, there's like a ninety-nine percent chance it's another driver because let's be real, he had hickeys on his neck on the night of the Dutch gp, it has to be another driver because who else is George seeing that often when you guys are traveling?" The thought of George with a fellow driver annoys me deeply. "Maybe it's Albon. They're always together." I say, not bothering to hide the annoyance on my face. "It could be." Daniel says and then add, "or maybe it's Gasly. They're always been quite close." " Him and Pierre? That's... No, I don't see that." I say with a sigh. "Or maybe it's Lewis! They've flied together a good bit of times." Daniel says enthusiastically. "Why the fuck do you sound happy about that?" I asked with a glare. "Hey don't glare!" Daniel says. "And I'm not happy about it, it would just make sense I guess. George always idolised Lewis." " Lewis is thirteen years older than him." I say. "So? Maybe he's into that." "Maybe not? He's into me and I'm not thirteen years older than him." I mumbled.

"So... Since you're this mad about George seeing another guy, does this mean you're over Charles?" Daniel asked cautiously. I sigh before answering, "Charles and I weren't exactly head over heels for each other. It was more like friends that have sex but not really friends because he was just constantly getting on my nerves and I know I was getting on his nerves too. And I'm not mad about seeing another guy!" I say and Daniel gives me a look but doesn't say anything.

"Try not to think about it too much mate. Just give George his space, let him breathe for a while." Daniel advised. "Oh, I didn't realise he was being suffocated." I bite out with a glare. "Max, you know what I mean." He says. "No I don't! Why should I give him space? Space for what? For Albon, Gasly and Hamilton or whoever else to have him?!" I exclaimed loudly. Daniel gives me another weird look. "Right... But you don't like him?" He asks again. "I already said I don't." I answered. "Right..." Daniel says.

Daniel left after a while. I scroll through my contacts and click on George's contact. "Come over." I text him. Three minutes pass. What the hell is he doing? Why isn't he answering? Is he with Albon? Gasly? Hamilton? My mind is racing but then he texts back. "Can't. Busy." The message says. That's weird. George doesn't text like that. "Tonight then." I texted back immediately. "I'm busy tonight." What the fuck is he so busy doing? "Come over tonight or I'll come to you." I texted. "Fine." He finally agrees. Good. I'll see him tonight then.

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𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞:

When I read Max's text I knew he wasn't I knew he did mean it when he said if I don't come to him, he'll come to me and I don't want him over at my place right now. I shower and got dressed before heading out. I get to his place shortly after. I texted him letting him know I'm here and he replied saying the door's open.

I go inside and close the door behind me, Max isn't in the living room so on instinct I go to his bedroom and there he is. "Max." I greet him and he looks up from his phone before placing it on the nightstand, he's now sitting on the bedside. "Well?" I say trying to sound annoyed but a smile tugs at his lips. "What were you so busy with schat?" He asked. "It's none-" He cuts me off. "None of my business huh?" He laughs but there's no humour behind it. "Is it Alex?" He asked sharply." What? Max what are you-" He cuts me off again. "Or is it Pierre?" He asked glaring at me. "Or maybe it's Lewis?" I'm confused about what he means and why he's glaring at me. "Max, I don't know what you're referring to." I say calmly not trying to upset him further but he just scoffs. "Which one of them is fucking you George?"

The silence after he said that was eerie. "What the fuck are you talking about Max?" I glare. He stands. "Don't act all offended princess, you know I know about the other man so who is he?" Max asks after insulting me. "Who he is has nothing to do with you." I say trying to remain calm but it's hard especially when he's insulting me by calling me princess. "Oh but that's where you're wrong. You see, this new guy you're seeing may think he has some claim over you but we both how you belong to." He says with an insufferable arrogance that drives me mad.

"What makes you think he's the new guy, Max? What makes you think I wasn't seeing him before we started fucking around?" I snapped and the look in his eyes is of pure rage. I don't think I've ever seen him this mad at me. "What the fuck did you just say to me?" He glares, walking closer to me. "You heard me. What makes you think I wasn't his first, because I'll tell you Max, I definitely was." I say wanting him to get angry now. Of course Toto and I aren't emotionally involved but seeing Max getting angry thinking otherwise makes me feel vindicated . "Shut the fuck up." He growls. "Why? You wanted to know about him so I'll you all what we get up to in my bed." It's so easy baiting him in. He's so mad and for what? He doesn't like me but his ego is so frail that he gets upset about another man in my bed.

"George, I'm so fucking serious, stop or else I'll have to remind you who owns you." He says getting closer, if even possible given the fact that my back is pressed up against the wall. "I know know owns me Max, in fact I was with him last night." No I wasn't but he doesn't need to know that. Before I can say something to bait him again, his hands are grabbing me and dragging me towards his bed. He practically throws me onto his bed and he starts undressing. Fuck. He looks good.

Before I know it, he on me, his hands are under my shirt and his lips are on my neck. I chew onto my bottom lip trying to concealed my moans. One of his hands slid onto my belt and starts undoing it. He gets my pants off and then reach to take off my shirt, I let him. Once my shirt is off Max falters for a moment and I feel an ache in my chest, is he not attracted to me anymore? Do I look different? But then he speaks. "You let him mark you like this?" He growls, eyes fixed on the fading hickeys on my chest. "Yeah." I say bluntly. He leans down, mouth on my chest, he's biting and sucking on my chest before moving up onto my neck.

"Max-" I say, I was about to tell him not to leave visible hickeys on me but he speaks. "Shut up." He says roughly. "I've heard enough from your mouth tonight." He says not even looking at me. "You let someone else mark what's mine." He growls out, biting over the mark above my nipple that was left by Toto. I can't suppress my moans anymore, an embarrassingly breathy moan escape my lips. "Now, I have to take back what mine because you just couldn't wait to run back to him huh?" He asked by it was rectorial.

Max has me on all fours in the centre of his bed, he's teasing me with his cock. He's rubbing it against my hole but not putting it in. "Please." I whimper out trying to not think about how desperate I sound. "Beg." Max says in a single command. "Please... Please Max, I... I need it... Please..." "Please what, schat?" He asked knowing what I want. "Max-" "Say it." He demands. "Fuck me." I whimper out and one of his hands left my hips and grabs my throat pulling me up against his chest. He turns my head towards him for a kiss but I turn away. "I'm not here for that. Well, not from you anyways." I whispered and for a moment he didn't move but that didn't last long before he pushes my face down in the pillow and thrust deeply in me.

The sound I made was muffled by the fabric, but it ripped out of me anyway, loud and desperate. Max groaned behind me, low and rough, his voice cracking with the force of it. He didn’t give me time to adjust, didn’t give me anything but the press of his body pinning me down and the relentless drive of his hips.

Each stroke shook through me, harsh and precise, his rhythm unyielding. My fingers curled in the sheets, knuckles white, as I pushed back against him, unable to help myself. He felt too good, so thick, deep, stretching me until I was unraveling beneath him. My moans spilled out, helpless and constant, swallowed by the pillow but loud enough that even I could hear them echo back.

“Fuck, George,” Max gritted out, his hands gripping my hips so tightly it bordered on painful. “You’re so- God, you’re perfect.”

The words hit me harder than they should have, heat rushing to my face even as my body clenched around him in response. He groaned at the reaction, his pace stuttering for a second before he slammed back into me, harder, deeper. The bed frame creaked with every thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the room, obscene and intoxicating.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All I knew was Max-his voice, his body, the way he filled me until I was shaking apart. My name tore from his throat again and again, rough and broken, like he couldn’t stop himself.

I twisted my head to the side, gasping for air, and managed to choke out, “Max- please-”

He bent over me then, his chest pressed to my back, his breath hot against my ear. “Say my name again.”

“Max.” The sound came out strangled, more a whine than a word.

“Again.”

“Max- Max-” I couldn’t stop, not when every thrust had me teetering closer to the edge, my body burning from the inside out.

He groaned, deep and guttural, and his hand slid from my hip down between us, wrapping around me. The sudden touch had me crying out, my entire body jerking as pleasure spiked sharp and fast. His fist worked me in the same relentless rhythm as his hips, and I was gone, completely gone.

The pressure coiled tight in my stomach, snapping with brutal force as I spilled over his hand, moaning his name like it was the only word I knew. My whole body shook, trembling under the weight of it, but Max didn’t stop.

He cursed loudly, thrusts turning erratic, desperate, until with one final, broken groan he pressed deep inside me and came undone. His whole body shuddered against mine, his weight heavy and grounding as he collapsed over me, both of us wrecked and gasping in the dark.

Max stayed on top of me for a moment before rolling onto his side. I contemplated staying for a second but then I snapped on out it

"Can I shower before I leave?" I asked, reaching for my discarded clothing. "Do whatever you want." Max muttered, not even looking at me. I went into the shower.

I spent maybe twenty minutes in Max's shower before I got dressed and left.

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𝐌𝐚𝐱:

George left a few hours ago and I'm still in bed, I can't feel anything. I had amazing sex with him and here I am in bed feeling numb and alone. "I didn't come here for that. Well, not from you anyways." His words echo in my mind. I don't know why it hurts so much. My heart aches just thinking about it, why does it hurt? Why didn't he kiss me? If not from me then who? The thoughts run wild in my mind. I don't want to get up but I should. I should go shower and stop thinking about George so I try. Q

Hot water drops down my body and all I can think about is George, about how George didn't kiss me, about how he always had another man, about how I'm George's side piece. I gets out of the shower after a while hour of just standing there with his head again the titled wall. I never thought that George would be like this. George of all people. George doesn't do casual hook ups and to think that he had someone before me drives me insane. I don't know why he's avoiding me if he had this man before he started seeing me, I don't know why he didn't kiss me and I don't know why he didn't stay the night. It makes my chest ache in an unfamiliar way and I hates it. I hate George for making me feel all these stupid useless things. These feelings won't ever accomplish anything so why is my mind hung up on George Russell is beyond me. I don't want to think about him but my brain won't stop. It won't stop even when it makes my chest ache and burn. I feel ridiculous. I'm all upset because he didn't kiss me.

But why didn't he?! God it's exhausting wondering what he's thinking and I don't want to be wondering about him ever or at all. It's just sex. It truly is. And it only bothers me because kissing normally happens during sex but George didn't kiss me. He turned away from my lips. I wonder if he lets his other man kiss him, the thought itself makes me sick. My mind won't stop, my brain is fixated on what George is doing and why didn't he kiss me . It's frustrating knowing he has someone else, knowing that the someone else had him before me.

It's not like I like him or anything it's just strange, I never thought George would be casually sleeping with someone else and not want a relationship with said person. I think it's definitely Alex. Pierre is unlikely and Lewis is too old for George. Alex is the safe option, George likes safe. I don't see him with anyone else, not that I like the thought of him and Albon, I hate it to be frank but if George wants Alex fine. Fine he can have Alex all he wants but would Alex want him after he finds out what George and I have been doing? I text him.

Max: Are you busy right now?

Alex: Not really. What's up?

Max: I need to talk to you about something.

Alex: About what?

Max: Come over to mine place and we'll discuss it.

Alex: It's like 11pm??

Max: Tomorrow then.

Alex: Alright man. I'll swing by around 9.

Max: Sounds good.

Chapter Text

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱:

Last night when Max texted me I was a bit surprised because we don't really talk much outside of racing. I mean, we're cordial and even friendly but we don't really hit each other up to hang out or talk about things. I have breakfast then get dressed and head out to meet up with Max.

The drive to Max's place wasn't long, I knock on the door and after a few minutes Max opens the door. "Alexander. Come in." He says, using my first name which is kind of weird but I go in anyways. "So, what's up mate?" I asked him, sitting in the chair opposite to his. "You tell me." He says. "What do you mean?" I asked. "You and George. I know about you two." He says so seriously and I almost laughed.

"Me and George? What exactly do you know about us Max?" I asked tying to hide my amusement at his nonsensical implication. "I know you two are sleeping together." He says, not looking away, hell, not even blinking. "We are?" I asked but Max didn't get that and took it as confirmation.

"I knew it! I knew it was you." He says and I'm starting to think he's a bit unwell. "Mate... What's this about really?" I asked not bothering to mask my concern for him but I really don't know what he took it for. "Don't play dumb Albon." He scoffed. I raised a brow and Max started speaking again. "You need to stop seeing him. You can't be with him anymore because he's with me now." Max and George? Wow. George didn't tell me about this. I may not be sleeping with George but Max is under the impression someone.

"Why should I?" I asked knowing I'm sure as hell not sleeping with George. "And since when did you two start dating?" I'm asked because how the hell could George be in a relationship- with Max nonetheless and not tell me about it! "We're not in a relationship." Max sneered. "And you need to stop seeing him because I'm seeing him." Oh? They're not in a relationship but Max doesn't want George seeing someone else? Very interesting.

"Are you like in love with him or something?" I asked with a raised brow. "No! No. I don't love him, I don't even like him!" He exclaimed. "But you want me to stop seeing him?" I asked. "Yes." He confirmed. "Why?" I asked again. "Because he's not yours Albon." Max said with a glare. "Well he's not yours either Verstappen." I say, getting annoyed on George's behalf because Max said he doesn't even like George so he can't be acting like this. Max's eye twitched at my words.

"Look, I really don't give a fuck what you two have going on but it's over now. George doesn't need you." Max says. "I guess I could say the same thing to you, Max. You can't tell me to stop seeing George and you certainly can't George who he can or can't see. He's a grown man and you're not his boyfriend so why don't you try minding your own business?" I say standing up to leave because I'm over this conversation. Max says nothing. I leave. In the car I text George letting him know that I'm coming over.

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𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞:

I just got home from a run and I see a text from Alex saying he's coming over. I texted him back saying okay and then went into the bathroom to shower. After my shower I went to my room to get dressed and went I finished I went back out to the living room and almost had a bloody heart attack.

"Jesus Christ mate!" I exclaimed, startled by Alex who's sitting in my couch. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" He asked. "No? Is there something you want to tell me?" I asked back, sitting next to him. "I know about you and Max." He said and I felt my smile fading. "Alex-" I started by he cut me off. "Why didn't you tell me? And who's the other guy?" He asked shifting closer to me.

"I... I don't know why I didn't tell you. I guess I'm just embarrassed about the whole thing. I mean, everything that happened last year with Max and I, the fact that he hates me and that him and Charles broke up not even a year ago... It's just so messy and I'm humiliated by it but at the same time I'm just so weak when it comes to Max and I hate it." I explain barely looking Alex in the eyes. "George... You have nothing to be embarrassed or humiliated about. I mean, yeah it's a bit messy but so what? You're not in a relationship and neither is Max." Alex said gently. "And, you don't have to tell me who the other guy is. I'm sorry I came on so strongly." He said. "You don't have anything to apologize for." I say to him before adding. "It's Toto."

"TOTO WOLFF?" He yells. "As in- no." He said shaking his head. I resist the urge to smile at Alex's dramatic reaction. "Wait... You're not joking?!?!?" He asked astonished. "It only happened a few times... The first time was last year." I say. "Oh my god." Alex says and just when I think he's finally calming down he goes off again. "He's twenty-six years older than you! He's- he's your boss! Wait... Is he- are you- is it something you want or is he-" I cut him off. "It's consensual Alex. Toto wouldn't do something like that." I say firmly. "Good." Alex says sighing.

"How did you find out about Max and I?" I asked once Alex seemed to process everything about Toto and I. "Max invited me over and told me to stay away from you because to quote him "He's not yours Albon." So basically that was it and um he kinda definitely thinks it's me you're sleeping with because I told him you're not his either and he can't tell me to stop seeing you." Alex says. He did what? I feel myself growing furious at Max.

"He had no right to do that!" I exclaimed. "Why do you think he did?" Alex asked. "Because it's just how Max is. He's territorial and his ego is fragile." I explain with a sigh. "Sure... And you're certainly not feelings are involved?" Alex asked carefully. "I'm certain. That's definitely not an option." I say but Alex doesn't seem too convinced. "It's not and I know it because Max made a list of reasons not to date me and the last one was I'm not Charles. He loves Charles still." I say looking down at my trembling hands.

A comfortable silence falls after I say that and I thought that was the end of it but then I feel Alex pulling me into a hug. "He's an idiot then." Alex whispers and I return his hug. "No it's fine." I say, burying my face deeper in Alex's shoulder. "No it's not. He's childish and ridiculous for doing that and he should be grateful you even look at him." Alex says and his words make my chest ache. I pull back. "Thank you Alex." I say. "Anytime mate." He says with a warm smile and then stands, pulling me up with him. "Alright enough with the Max talking we're going out for lunch!" Alex says dragging me to the door with him and I just laugh, grateful that I have a friend like him.

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𝐌𝐚𝐱:

I can't believe the fucking nerve of Albon. How dare he refuse to stop seeing George? I'm genuinely pissed off now. He was so disrespectful. I'm going over to Daniel's place to tell him all about it and how I was right about the guy being Albon. It took a while getting to Daniel's place because of traffic but I waste no time knocking loudly on his door.

"What did my door ever do to you mate?" Daniel asked after he opened the door. I ignored his question. "I was right. It's Albon." I say as I walk into his house. Daniel close the door and follows me to his living room. I sit on the couch. "How are you so sure?" He asked sitting next to me." "Because I had him come over and he admitted it! And he had the nerve to say he's not going to stop seeing George! Like can you believe that? He was so disrespectful! He was saying that I should mind my own business and that I can't tell George who he can or can't see! Can you believe that?!" I exclaimed with an exhausted sigh. "So, you invited him to your house, told him to stop seeing George and you're mad he's not going to stop seeing the guy he was with first? Yeah, I can believe that actually." Daniel replied.

"What the hell mate? You're supposed to be on my side." I scoffed. "There are no sides. George isn't your boyfriend and as you said you don't have feelings for George so what's the problem?" Daniel says and I hate it because he's right. "I don't know why it's bothering me but it is, I can admit that much." I sigh. "I dunno... I guess I'm more upset too because George didn't let me kiss him while we were having sex and the thought of him kissing Albon is suffocating me. I hate it." I confess. "You need to ask yourself why it bothers you bec it's not fair to George and Max, I love you man but don't you think this is confusing for George? You told him you don't want a relationship but you're upset he's with Alex. I know you don't mean to but you're sending him mixed signals, mate." Daniel said.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I don't know why or how this got so complicated so fast." I say. "I mean we were fine but he just started to switch up out of nowhere. It's him that's confusing because for the last month's he use to be all over me all the time, we use to talk everyday and I know he wasn't seeing Albon then so why did all of that change? Why did he decide enough anymore? I got so used to having him around and now that he's not I feel annoyed and upset that he it's speaking to me anymore. I mean, sure I miss kissing him and holding him but it's not just the physical things I miss y'know? I miss the late night conversations and the way he used to look at me. He doesn't look at me anymore but all I look at is him. His lips. His eyes. I can't ignore how much is bothers me knowing Albon has him." This is the most I ever told Daniel about George and I. It's the most I've ever let myself think about George.

"You need to speak to him. Find out what you feel first and be sure of it then go him. We both know George, he wouldn't just pull away like that for no reas-" I cut off Daniel's words. "But he did! He did, Daniel. We were fine and then he started avoiding me and acting like we had nothing! I-" Daniel cuts me off this time. "Because that's what you said Max. You told him it's not a relationship so of course he started seeing Alex again. I know it's frustrating but it is what it is. You need to figure your shit out and speak to George." Daniel says with a sigh and I don't argue because I know he's right. I reach for my phone to text George but he beat me to it.

George: We need to talk. Come over tonight at 8.

Max: Okay.

I feel good about George texting me. He wants to see me so obviously he still wants me.

Chapter Text

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞:

After I got back from lunch with Alex I texted Max telling him that we need to talk. I need him to understand that he can't just demand Alex to stop seeing me. He was always the one going on and on about how we're not in a relationship and not to mention the list. He had no problem making a list about why he wouldn't date me so he has no right to dictate who I do or don't see.

The afternoon goes by rather fast, I finished some errands, had dinner and showered. Before I knew it Max texted letting me know he's here. I let him in and take him to the living room because it's away from my bedroom. Max started speaking. "So it's Albon." He said sharply and I just sighed. "What you did, calling Alex over to your house and interrogating him like that was weird Max. You had no right to do something like that." I say calmly. "Well if you had just told me like I asked you too, I wouldn't have felt the need to do it." Max countered and I feel my frustration raising.

"Do you even hear yourself?!" I snapped. "You had absolutely no right. None at all yet you continue to get yourself involved in my life when it doesn't concern you!" I yell and I almost feel bad but then I remember every time he said it's just physical and then I think about that stupid list and all the remorse I felt in that fleeting moment disappears. Max glares at me.

"Why the fuck are you acting like this? It hasn't even three weeks now when you were all over me and now you're seeing Albon, you barely look at me and now you have the audacity to tell at me?" Max says. I scoff. "You're one to talk about audacity." I mumbled, looking down at my hands. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked roughly. "Forget it. Just, stay out of dating life please." I say looking into his beautiful sky blue eyes.

"So you're dating him?" He asked in a scoff. "No, I'm not but it's not your business." I say softly. I don't like being upset with him, I don't like fighting with Max but I know what he thinks of me and I hate myself for being weak when it comes to Max. "It's just physical with him then?" He asked, softer this time. "No Max. I'm not dating Alex and I'm not sleeping with him." I say firmly.

"Then who?! Who is it that I'm competing with for you time and attention George?" Max asked, frustration dripping in his voice and I feel my heart aching at the knowledge that Max thinks he's competing for my affection. "You're-" I sigh at the tremble in my voice. "You're not competing with anyone Max." I whisper. "Who is he, schat? Please just... Tell me." He sounds so defeated and my heart aches for him. I know how he how he truly feels about me and even now when I'm aware of his list and how little he respects me, my heart still aches at his tone. I know I shouldn't but I tell him anyway. "It's Toto." I say, breaking eye contact.

The silence after is deafening. Max gets up and starts walking to the door without a word. "Max-" I try to call to him but the sound of my front door slamming shut is all I'm met with. I really fucked up by telling him. All I can do is hope Max doesn't do anything crazy.

Chapter Text

𝐌𝐚𝐱:

Torger Wolff. That's who George is sleeping with. I can't even explain how I'm feeling right now. I drove around for a few hours before going home. I can't believe George would do something like that. I thought I knew who George was. I thought he had integrity or at least a little bit of self-respect. I thought wrong apparently. I pour myself a drink and and downed it all in one mouthful and continued like that until the bottle was emptied.

I reach for my phone and unlocked it, I winced at the brightest of the screen. I go into contact and scroll until I find George's name. I click call. It rings five times exactly before he picked up. "Max?" He answered sounding like he just woke up. "Come over now." I demanded and was met with minutes of silence before he spoke. "It's late... Can we talk about it tomorrow?" He asked and it just pissed me off more. "No. Absolutely not. Come over right now or I'll come to and I've been drinking George so you really don't want to me drive right." I say not bothering to hide my annoyance and fury at him. "I'll be there in a few..." He mumbles. I hang up and waited.

It's been thirty fucking minutes and he isn't here yet. I grab another bottle and start drinking again. It took twenty more minutes until he got here. When he sat next to me I couldn't hide all the disgust I feel for him. "You've been letting a man over twenty years older than you fuck you. Do you know how repulsive that is?" I sneered at him and he looks devastated. Fuck. "I-" He tries to speak but I interject. "So tell me George, what's it like sleeping with your boss? Is that how you got the Mercedes promotion all those years ago? I didn't take you for such a whor-" Before I can finish my sentence I feel the sting of his hand slapping me across my face. "Don't you dare. You have you right to call me such things!" He yells as tears fall from his hypnotizing blue eyes. I feel a wave of regret washing over me but I don't stop myself from insulting him again.

"Don't I? Y'know I really do wonder, what would people think if they knew just how much of Toto's golden boy you are?" I say with so much animosity but it's not directed to George, not fully anyway. I see the panic in his eyes and he's fidgeting with his fingers which he only does when he's nervous. Good. "I swear to God Max, if you tell anyone I won't ever forgive you for it." He said, his voice trembling. I feel horrible for making him feel like that but he needs to realize that Torger Wolff isn't the man for it and if he's not going to realize it on his own, I'll have to show him. "What would your fathe-" He slaps me again.

"Don't you dare." He glares. Fuck, he looks so beautiful when he's furious. "Do whatever the fuck you want Max. I'm done." He says standing up and tuning to the door. I feel panic raising in my chest. I grab his hand and pulls him back towards me. "Schat..." I whisper. He tries to pull away but I hold him firmly in place. "Don't cry. You chose to be Toto's bitch so you don't get to play the victim now, baby." I say, pressing him against the wall while keeping my hands on his waist. I can't stand seeing tears in his eyes. I press a kiss on his cheek and then another one right under his eye.

"You're being cruel." George whimpered out as more tears spill from his eyes. "Stop." He says in a low, broken tone. I feel an immense amount of pain throbbing in my chest. My hips press against his and I bring my hands up to cup both sides of his face. I wipe his tears away with my thumbs. "It's the truth." I whisper and I feel him struggling against me. "Don't push me away baby. We both know you want me." I say while kissing his cheek.

I thought he was finding until I heard the broken sob escaping him. He pushes me away and for a moment I was stunned. "George-" I call to but he pushes past me, rushing towards the door. I know I'm in the wrong but I can't help it. I don't know why I'm like this. I watched him leave and I feel so pathetic. My head is aching and I feel beyond ridiculous for doing this to him. I know in my heart and in my mind that George didn't sleep his way to a promotion, I know he worked hard to earned his seat. I don't know why I said those horrible things to him. I sit down, my hands are on my head and I'm trying my absolute hardest not to cry, I have no right to. Not after all of those things I said. Not after calling George a whore and a bitch. He isn't and I know it. I'm so sick of myself for making him feel like that, for making him cry.

George deserved better than what I did to him tonight. I disrespected him and made him cry yet here I am, also crying as if I have any right to. I just wish my mind would stop, I wish I was different. I hate myself for making him cry. No wonder he's with Toto. Toto probably doesn't make him cry. I wish I could take back what I said but I can't. The damage is done and I did it. Again. George has been nothing but respectful, even when we fought he never once called me the names I called him and I never felt more ashamed in my life. No wonder he's been pulling away from me. I stumbled to my bed and forced myself to sleep just so I can stop my brain from screaming at me so loudly.

Chapter Text

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞:

I've been panicking ever since I left Max's. The thought of him telling the media about Toto and I makes me feel sick. I'm driving and I can hardly see the road due to the tears streaming down my face. I can't stop thinking about all those things he said. I don't want to go home. I don't want to go anywhere. I just wish I could disappear and be rid of this mess.

I don't comprehend where I'm going until I find myself in front of Toto's house. I feel stupid for coming here. I feel stupid for needing his comfort, for craving it. I manage to get out of my car and knock on his door, I know I look a mess right now. Tears won't stop falling from my eyes and I feel like I can't breathe. Toto opens the door. I don't meet his gaze. I don't deserve to look at him, I don't deserve his comfort and I certainly don't deserve the warm embrace that he's pulling me into.

I gently pull away from his arms, unable to look at him still. "George... Baby, what's going on?" He asked softly while cradling my face as though I'm something precious that he's trying to preserve. I don't answer him, I want to but I can't. My throat hurts when I breathe and I stand still outside his door properly looking as stupid as I feel.

Toto guides me inside and then closes the door. He leaves me on the couch and then returns with a glass of water and suddenly I get deja vu from when I found Max's list. I take a sip of the water and try to breathe. Toto's hands are on my cheeks brushing away my tears and I feel my heart breaking. God I'm such a idiot. I shouldn't have said anything to Max but I did and now Toto's life may be ruined because of it. "What happened?" He asked, making me look up at him.

"I'm so sorry." Is all I could say before the tears start again and I hate myself for it. I have no reason to be crying. I did this, all of it and now Toto has to comfort me for a mess I created. "Whatever it is, I promise you it'll be okay, you just need to tell me what happened so I can fix it." He says in a low, comforting tone that is so different from his team principal tone that many people are used to. "I- I told Max about us and he threatened to tell the media about us." I confess, unable to look at him. I expected him to yell or tell me to get out but I feel him pulling me into his strong arms.

"It's okay." He whispers, pressing kisses onto the side of my eyes. I shake my head. "It's not! I should have never-" I start but was cut off by him pressing a gentle kiss onto my lips, presumably to stop me from spiraling. "Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it." He whispers again my lips and I feel my heart start racing faster. "I'm sorry." I whisper. "It's okay." He says, holding me in a way I wished Max would've. I bury my face in his chest. "What else did he say to you?" Toto asked while rubbing comforting circles on my back. "He called me a whore and said I'm your bitch and he wonders what my father would think if he knew. He also implied that I got promoted to Mercedes by sleeping with you." I close my eyes after saying that, trying to erase the memories of Max saying those things.

Toto says nothing more, his hands on me is all I need right now. I let myself cling to him in a way I never allowed myself to do with Max. I feel safe in Toto's arms and I hate myself for longing for Max. After everything he said, after his list, I hate myself for wanting a man who has no sense of respect for me. Maybe Max was right. I'm in Toto's arms yet I'm longing for him. I'm beyond pathetic at this point. I feel myself drifting to sleep in Toto's arms and all I can do is hope Max doesn't say anything.

Chapter Text

𝐌𝐚𝐱:

I woke up with a pounding headache this morning. I took a cold shower and had some coffee while trying to remember what happened last night. It took me a while before remembering that I called George and all the things I said to him after he came over. Fuck. I fucked up. I shouldn't have said those things but he shouldn't be sleeping with his boss so how wrong am I?

I keep thinking about George. I can't believe he'd rather be with a man twenty-six years older than him rather than with me, a four time world champion. It's inappropriate that he's letting his boss fuck him. It's wrong and it makes me feel fuck insane. I scroll through YouTube watching everything that has Toto and George together in it. They pretend so fucking well. They act profession on camera but off camera George spreads his legs for that old bastard.

I hate it. I hate knowing George goes to Toto. I hate knowing George let Toto mark him. I hate knowing George has been with Toto longer than he's been with me. I hate it. I hate Torger Wolff. I hate that I can't hate George. I scroll through YouTube for what felt like hours- which it has been, after checking the time and I've watched every video of George and Toto together. I saw the way George smiles at Toto. I saw the way Toto's filthy hand lingered on George's shoulder and I saw the way George leaned into it. Disgusting. How could Toto look at George, someone twenty-six years younger than him and not feel like a disgusting creep for touching him? How could Toto not feel like a thief after touching what belongs to me? That man makes me sick. He's a thief and a disgusting old man.

George and I were perfectly fine until Toto probably started spewing nonsense in his ear and manipulating and confusing George into wanting him. I know George claimed that he was seeing Toto before me but how true can that be? Maybe George was just trying to get a reaction out of me? George was mine before he could even realize it himself. Toto got into his head and turned him against me and I'll never forgive him for that, I'll never forgive him for touching what's mine. Toto Wolff needs to learn to keep his hands to himself and stop touching his much younger driver. He needs to learn that taking something that doesn't belong to him is wrong. George is mine. Not Alex's, not Pierre's, not Lewis's and certainly not that Austrian bastard's. Mine. George is just a bit confused now. Once I get him away from Toto everything will be fine again. He'll be mine and he won't want to be in Toto Wolff's bed again.

I was about to put down my phone but then I got a text.

"Max, there's much we need to talk about. Come by my place tonight. -Toto Wolff."

Bastard. That's what I thought after I read his name. He sends his address after and I typed back. "Yeah, we do." Before turning off my phone and leaning back against the couch. George may be a little bit confused right now but all of his confusion will disappear after I talk to Toto. George is going to be in my arms again and Toto Wolff will be away from George indefinitely.

Chapter Text

𝐌𝐚𝐱:

I have little to no expectations of a calm, reasonable conversation with Toto. I know there's things I'm going to say to him that he isn't going to like but I don't care. Toto is a sadistic bastard to think he has any right to summon me at his house to talk. I mean, I was definitely going to reach out to him but who the fuck is he to do it first? George probably told him about our little conversation so now Toto's going to try and play fixer by calling me over and he's going to act like he has grounds to speak to me about George when he truly doesn't.

The day went by fairly quick and before I knew it I'm out the door, going to Toto Wolff's house of all places. The driver there was fine, nothing special really. I knock on the door. He goes it. "Max, come in." He says in a tone so clam that it pisses me off. "Now, surely you must have an understanding of why I said we need to talk." He said, gesturing for me to sit but I don't, neither does he. "Yeah. I do, and I have to say, you're so fucked in the head. Sleeping with your employee who's twenty-six years younger than you? That's not very professional,Torger." I say wanting to get a reaction from him but he gives me nothing of that sort. "George and I know where we stand with each other but you clearly don't. It's clear you know nothing but act like you know everything and it's really pathetic for you." He says and I feel myself growing annoyed by how he said "George and I" as if there's a him and George.

"I know lots. I know that the media would absolutely love to know just how close you and George really are." I say. "And you would do that to George? Expose something he told you in private because you can't stand the thought of him being with a real man?" I feel my eye twitching at his obnoxious words. "George knows how much of a real man I am." I say trying to calm myself and not lose my temper. "Now, if that were the case Max, George wouldn't be crawling into my bed every night he's not with you." He says smugly. "You're manipulating him. He's twenty-six years younger than you and is your employee. Of course he'll give you what you want from him." I scoffed. "Manipulating him?" Toto laughs. "That's what you tell yourself? I wouldn't expect you to understand what George and I have because you possess the emotional intelligence of a five year old who feels entitled to a person and acts like said person is a toy that has been taken from you rather than seeing the plain truth." He says.

"What's the plain truth Toto? That you're sleeping with someone you've known since he was a minor? Or is that you're afraid once George comes to his sense he wouldn't want you anymore?" I replied back sharply. How dare he say that I act like George is a toy and not a person? "There's a part of George that will always need me. Regardless of who's he's with or what he thinks he wants, he'll always need me and he knows it but you don't." This old fucker really thinks George needs him? Who the hell does he think he is? "George is mine. Completely and he'll always be mine." I glare. Toto laughs, there is no humour in his laughter. "George was in my bed long before he even spared you a second glance. You're childish Max. You're emotionally unavailable and you're ego does half of your thinking. Why would George ever want you beyond sex?" I resist the urge to punch him.

"Stay away from George. It's what's best for him. You're a mess and I won't have you dragging him down with you." My eye twitched at his words. "I'm a mess?! I'm a mess, really?!? I'm not the fifty-three year old fucking my twenty-seven year old employee!" I sneered. "And I wasn't the calling him a whore and a bitch and telling him he only got promoted because he's in my bed." Toto snapped back. "He told you that?" I asked. "He tells me everything. I'm the one he comes to when he's hurt and you're the one that hurts him." I feel furious at his accusations that I always hurt George. Sure, I may say some things in the heat of the moment but I've never intentionally tried to hurt George.

"That's rich coming from you. I'm not the one fucking him but also refusing to give him a worthy contract." I tsked. "You don't know anything about our business so stay out of it." He replied back in an instant. "I know enough. I won't tell the press about you and George but in return I want something." I say. "What do you want?" He asked and I feel a faint smirk tugging at my lips. "To be teammates with George Russell." I say but Toto's response what immediate. "Absolutely not. We're not getting rid of Kimi." He says. "I never said you have to. You could just, not sign George back for next year and I'll handle the rest." I replied but Toto laughed. "George would rather not drive at all than drive for any other team, let alone Red Bull. He bleeds sliver. We both know it." His words enraged me. I mean it's true but I don't care.

"I'm not getting rid of my senior driver. Tell the media whatever you want Max but try not to let your jealousy show too much, we wouldn't want Jos to know what his son feels for George Russell right?" My mind goes blank at his words. He had no right going there. My fist clenched up into balls and I almost swing but I don't. No. That would just prove his point about me being emotionally immature or whatever the fuck he said. "George is mine." I say but it's almost to myself this time, it's like I'm reminding myself that he's still mine, that he's still within my reach. "You don't care about him Max. If you did, you would have never treated him the way you did." Toto says.

"What happens between George and I is our concern, not yours. George knows what he is to me." I say, not believing the last part but hoping Toto does. "Whatever you say Max." He said before saying, "You can go now." And I don't think twice before heading to the door.

When I'm in my car all I can think about is George. I need to talk to him, I know I should call or text but I don't. I drive to his house, hoping he's awake. When I get there at first I sit in the car are a few minutes before I get out and knock on the door. It takes several moments before he opens the door. I smile when I see him, I can't help it. He's so beautiful. "Max?" He says. "Hello, schat." I say, almost breathless by the mere sight of him.

"Max, it's late..." He says. "I know. I just.. needed to see you." I say, wondering if he's going to invite me in soon. "Why? So you can tell me how much of a whore I am?" I deserved that but still it hurts. It only hurts because I know it hurts him. "I'm sorry about that... I'm sorry about all of it George... I just- the thought of you with him made me sick and I know it's not an excuse but I am sorry..." I apologize, ashamed it was needed in the first place.

"Thank you for apologising but I think you should leave." He whispers. "Why?" I asked, taking his hands in mines but he pulls away and I feel my heart stopping at the rejection. "Max just-" I cut him off. "Is it because you'll go to him when I leave? Or is he coming over here? Is that why you want me gone?!" I yell, causing him to flinch slightly and I feel fucking horrible. I genuinely don't know why I'm like this. "No Max. I want you gone because I can't stand to look at you!" He snaps, yelling back at him. "Why? Why can't you look at me?" I demanded to know. I just need to hear him say it has nothing to do with him and Toto, I need to hear that Toto isn't involved in this, that it's just purely physical with them. I need to hear him say he wants more than just sex between us. I need to hear him say he wants me, all of me but when I look at him I see tears in his beautiful eyes. I reach to wipe them away but he turns his face away. "Don't." He muttered.

"... Just... Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what is it you need from me and I'll give it to you." I say in a low whisper. He scoffs. "What I want?! What I need from you?! What I want is for you to not call me names whenever we argue, what I want is for you to stop acting like I'm a thing to own and what I need is for you to not make a list of all the reasons you wouldn't date me!" He yells, tears streaming down his pretty face and I hate myself for every tear that falls from his eyes.

"George I-" He cuts me off. "I didn't even show you all of me but it was too much for you and, that's fine Max. It really is but you had to make a list of all the things I already hate about myself just so you can't what? Justify wanting to fuck me without getting emotional involved with me? I get that you still love Charles, I get that I was just the rebound, if even that but all you had to do was just tell me that! Do you know how incredibly stupid I felt reading that list after all the time we spent together?" George sighs, wiping his tears away and my heart is aching so much. I don't love Charles. I don't want George to feel stupid, he isn't. I don't want him to hate any parts of himself because he's so fucking perfect. I hate myself for making him feel like this.

I can hardly breathe but I manage to speak. "I don't love him, George, I love you-" I say, not realising I'm crying until I feel the tears in my face after I told him I love him. "You don't even know me!" He yells. "I know everything about you and I love y-" He cuts me off again. "You don't! It's okay Max, truly it's fine! You don't love me, hell you don't even like me and its okay." He says and I feel sick. I do love him. I really do. "I'm sorry about the list! I didn't mean it, I- I don't think those things of you! I swear I don't!" I apologize, tears streaming down my face. I can't breathe, all I want is to hold him, to tell him how much I love him, how much I regret hurting him.

"Baby please... Please believe me!" I beg desperately but it doesn't reach him. "Max just... Go home..." He sighs, tears in his eyes still. I am horrible. How could I do this? Why did I do that? I want George so much that it hurts. I need him so much that it's hard to breathe when he isn't near me. "Please..." I whisper but he just closes the door. I feel myself falling to my knees. I'm sobbing at his doorstep and can't bring myself to care about how ridiculous I look right. All I can feel is every time I hurt him, all I can hear is George saying it's okay that I don't love him but I do. All I can hear is him saying the things on that list is all of the things he hates about himself. That pierces right through my heart. He hates things about himself, someone so beautiful and perfect hates times about himself and worst of all I made him believe I hate those things about him too.

I don't know how long I stayed there on my knees, I got up after I stopped crying. I hate myself for making him feel like that. He felt stupid and hates parts of himself and I'm the reason why. I feel sick and numb all at once. I made the only person who ever made me feel like I'm worth something cry. I made him cry, I called him names, accused him of fucking his way to a promotion, I had a list about all his "flaws" and I hate myself for it. I don't remember driving home but here I am, taking the key out and opening the car door. I head inside and for once I let my mind go wild. I'm a horrible person. I hurt the one I love.

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I've felt stupid ever since Max tried to say he loves me. I think things between us are officially over now. I don't know why Max would so cruel and try to claim that he loves me. I've come to terms with the fact that he loves Charles. Why else would he make that list? Why else would he hate the things about me everyone usually hates as well? Maybe Max feels badly after seeing me cry, which I hated doing in front of him. Max probably just felt pity for me.

His pity is what makes my heart aches worse, I think I could've coped alot better if he was just cruel but he felt the need to pretend to love me because I cried and acted ridiculously in front of him. I shouldn't have even mentioned the letter. I hate myself for loving him but I can't stop. I tried to bury my feelings for him, I thought it would have been easier. Every time he called me a disrespectful name, every time he said it's just physical, I loved him even in those times. God, how stupid am I?

I'm in love with a man who loves his ex. I feel so disappointed with myself. I'm in love with a man who treated me like a object rather than a person and I'm also sleeping with my boss who's my father's age. My life is a mess and it's all my fault. I don't want Max to feel bad for not loving me back, it's really not his fault but I just wished he wasn't cruel.

I don't even think he realises it but he is and I don't think he cares enough to be better, at least with me anyway. I've never been in love before. I always thought falling in love would be simple, I guess I never thought about the longer who spend with someone the more they'll start seeing your flaws, the more they'll see why they shouldn't be with you. I never thought about it until now. It makes perfect sense why Max can't love me. We spent months together, practically inseparable. In those months Max found things about me that he can't deal with. I can't blame for that. It was bound to happen.

I never found the flaws in him that he found in me, everything about him I was just so endeared by it all. The way he is with his team and the rookies, the way his head tilts back slightly when he laughs, and God, his smile. His smile and the way his eyes lights up when he talks about the things he's passionate about makes my heart swell with joy for him. To know the things that makes him happy is enough for me.

Max may not love me but that's okay. I'll eventually get over it, I'll eventually be able to be happy that Charles gets Max's love, I'll eventually not hate myself for wishing it was me. Max deserves to be happy, even if- no, especially if it's not with me. Him and Charles deserve to be happy together. One day I'll stop hating myself for being sick at the thought of them together.

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I've been in bed ever since I dragged myself out of the car last night. I feel fucking sick. Like actually, I would have probably thrown up by thanks to my empty stomach I haven't. The way George looked, sounded and flinched ever so slightly when my voice raised, I can't stop thinking about it. I can't believe I made that fucking list. I can't believe George hates pieces of himself. I can't believe he doesn't believe I love or know him.

I know everything about George William Russell. I know he's the youngest of his family and they were always a bit chaotic which is why he likes everything organised, I know he fidles with his fingers when he's nervous, I know he's very specific when it comes to his coffee order, it's a cappuccino, I know he likes it when hold him after a long race, I know everything about him yet I didn't know I was hurting him- I didn't know I was destroying him, making him think he's flawed.

He's so perfect it hurts. My entire body aches, I feel nauseous and all I can see when I close my eyes is George. George crying because of the things I've done. I don't think he's a possession, I acted like he was so obviously he thought that's all I saw him for but it's wasn't, it's not. I love George. I never wanted to admit, I never wanted to admit I feel such things my father would regard as weaknesses but I feel it, maybe too much and I want to be okay with that. I want to be, really.

I want to be the man who makes George smile, I want to be the reason he's happy. I want for him to know how incredibly loved he is, I don't ever want him to question his intelligence but I've only ever made him feel the exact opposite. I want to be able to hold his hand and kiss him without caring what anyone else would think. I want that so much but it's terrifying to think about, I've never been comfortable with doing that with anyone, my father always told me to keep my disgusting lifestyle hidden in private but I can't do it anymore. I love George Russell. I need George to know that, I need to show him how much I love him.

I don't love Charles, not in a romantic way at least. It's never been him for me and I never been it for it. It's why I wrote that on the list. I didn't want to love George in a romantic way, I didn't want to love him at all but I do. I don't deserve him and I'm disgusted with myself because of how I treated him but I know how much I love him and I want him to know it as well. I need him to know how loved is, how my heart beats solely for him. I caused him so much pain and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to him, once he knows how much I love and adore him is all I need. I can't stand to remember the image of the man I love, crying saying that it's okay that I don't love him. I made him feel unloved.

My hands are shaking, I want George in my arms, I want him to know how perfect he is, how sorry I am and how I've always loved him and always will.

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I was surprised to see Max at my door, it hadn't even been two proper days since our.... Tense conversation and he's already back. I wordlessly let him in, not in the mood to have a screaming match at my door again. We sit and there's a silence before he spoke. "I am sorry, George. I'm sorry about the list, about all of the things I said you and for treating you like you're an object." He says and I feel my chest tightening.

"It's okay, Max." I say with a steady voice. "No, it's not. I should have never treated you like that, no one should ever treat the person they're in love with like that." He says, shifting closer to me but I just can't. I stand, turning away from him. "Don't say things like that." I sighed out. "Why not? It's the truth." He said as if that's obvious. "No, it's not." I say, turning back to look at him.

"How would you know?" He scoffed. "Because I know you! You don't love me Max. You are in love just, not with me." I exclaimed and throws his head back with an annoyed sigh before standing and walking over to me. "No. No, you don't get to tell me what I do or don't feel for you. You don't get to say I love someone I don't in place of you." He replied back and I feel my heart breaking all over again. Why is he doing this to me? We both know it's Charles he wants so why is he here saying it's me he loves? What did I do to deserve this?

"I didn't say it Max. You did." I reminded him. I'm not Charles. I'm not what he wants. I'm not who he loves and I thought I could be okay with that but here he is, claiming to love me but we both know it's the furthest thing from the truth. Why is Max Verstappen breaking my heart all over again? "George, tha- that wasn't what it seemed like. I swear it wasn't. He made me feel nothing and you do! You make me feel things I believed wasn't possible and I wasn't ready for that then but I am now. I swear I am." He says desperately and I feel like someone's stabbing me in the heart over and over again. Max apologized for the list and I forgave him for it but he thought of those things as reasons to not date me and I don't know if I could ever trust him to show him any part of myself after that.

"Max... I-" He cuts me off. "I love you." He says cupping my face in his hands. "I love you so much and I want to be with you." He says it so sweetly as if this was some grand love confessions between two repressed lovers. "I don't believe you." I whisper but not finding the strength to pull away from his hands. Unshed tears glistens in his beautiful eyes. "Then let me prove it to you. Please... Let me show you how much I love you." He says, pressing his forehead against mine and I feel a sense of dread washing over me. "Sex isn't wh-" He cuts me off. "I don't mean sex, just... Give you time to show you how much I love you, his much I worship you." He whispered again. "I don't want to be worshiped-" I says and his response was immediate. "That's too bad, you are." He pressed a kiss onto my cheek. "You may not trust me right now but I'll make it up to you, I promise." He says and I feel horrible.

I don't want him to feel obligated to make it up to me. He owes me nothing because we were nothing. "We were nothing, Max. Why are you doing all of this?" I asked, not bothering to hide how tired I am. "You don't believe that, you can't believe we were nothing because we were something, I know that because I was also there in the relationship, George." He says sharply. "It wasn't a relationship." I remind him and he sighs, removing his hands from me. Good. I ignore the pang in my chest when he turns away from me with another tired sigh. "Will you not let yourself be loved? Why is it always this difficult?" He asked sharply but there no real edge in his tone. I don't say anything. I can't. He's right. I make things difficult, I'm hard to love, Max deserves someone who he feels free, he deserves someone who isn't so frustrating. "You should leave." I say quietly and he does.

After Max leaves I feel tears in my eyes and I feel frustrated with myself I have no reason at all to cry yet here I am again! I told Max to leave, I told him I don't believe him when he said he loves me and now I'm alone again. I hate myself for wishing he would have argued when I told him to leave, I hate myself for wishing he would have fought with me. He's right. It's always difficult with me and I make it so. I can't stand myself, my mind, I'm genuinely so sick of myself and Max finally is done with me and I hate myself for crying right now because I pushed him away. I'm worthless and he finally saw it. I wouldn't fight for me either. He did the right thing but walking away.

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I should have never showed up to George's place uninvited. I practically ambushed him and he looked like he was about to cry if I didn't leave. I mentally kick myself for doing that to him, I should've called. When I got back to my place I just kind of threw myself on the couch and started to think about ways I can make it up to George.

"Mate, do you want a sandwich? I just made the best one ever, not even exaggerating." Daniel said before taking a seat next to me. "No I'm good-" I cut off my own words and my head spins so quickly in his direction. "Daniel how the fuck are you in my house?" I asked in confusion. "So... You've got a front door... I got feet m. I walked in using my feet." He said slowly as if he's talking to a child and I can't even pretend to glare I just burst out laughing but that didn't last long. I started to think again.

"Why are you so quiet?" Daniel frowned. "I'm thinking." I say. He raises a brow. I throw a pillow at his head. He laughs. "Alright, alright, you do genuinely look deep in thought so what are you thinking about?" He asked. "George." I replied. "And Alex?" He asked. Oh right. I didn't fill Daniel in on everything that happened. "Am... It wasn't Alex." I say with a sigh, remembering Torger Wolff. Daniel raises a brow.

"It's not Alex? Who then?" He asked and I take a deep breath. "Torger Wolff." His eyes go wide. "WHAT THE FUCK? TOTO? HIS BOSS?" He yells in shock. I nod. "Oh my god. What- how- when-" He stammers. "Wolff even had the audacity to summon me to his house to tell me to stop seeing George." I scoffed. "Oh so, he did to you what you did to poor Alex?" Daniel points out. "I kinda freaked out on George afterwards. Well, I got drunk and freaked out on him." I say, feeling the shame from that night consuming me again.

"What did you do?" He asked. "I called me a whore, a bitch, told him it makes sense that he was promoted to Mercedes because he's sleeping with the boss and I kinda threatened to tell the media about him and Wolff." I said it all in one mouthful of words, not wanting to dwell too much on it. "Max Emilian Verstappen!" Daniel yelled, tapping me across the head. "Did you apologize for those awful things you said?" He asked in a tone he never used with me before. "Yeah but... There's alot more I'm still making up for." I say looking away from Daniel. He sighs.

"Go on." He says, waiting for me to give context. "When I was now falling for George or rather when I was now aware I was falling for George, I made a list of reasons not to date him... The last one was that he's not Charles. George saw the list." I explain and Daniel's face falls again. "Max!" He yells in a scolding tone. "I know." I sigh. "Do you?" He questioned. "What if he had made a list? What if he had a whole bunch of reasons why he's not dating you and the last one is that you're not Toto Wolff? How would that feel Max?" He asked firmly. I glare at that man's name. I scoff, shaking my head. "Not good." I say. "Exactly! So why the hell would you do that?" I have no response.

"I was at his place today... He doesn't trust me. I don't blame him but it's frustrating! I told him I loved him and he said he doesn't believe that! He forgave me for the list but won't let tell him I love him! It's frustrating!" I exclaimed. "Yeah well imagine how it is for him. First you and him start hooking up right? You spend amazing months together but you've been saying it's only physical right? Then he finds your lovely little list and obviously is upset by it. What does he do? Exactly what you've been saying. You said it's only physical so he went to get some hot sex from his hot boss to forget about all of the horrible things you wrote about him right? Oh but then you started acting all possessive and he gets all confused by these mixed signals, then you call him a bitch, a whore, basically said he's talentless at his job and now you're claiming to love him. Isn't that crazy to you?" Daniel explained and asked.

"I didn't say he was talentless." I mumbled. "You told him he only got promoted because he's sleeping with Toto." Daniel shots back and I scoff at that man's name. You really thinks he's hot?" I asked in disgust. "I mean, he's conventionally attractive and well, George seems to think so." He says and I glare. "Look, what we should be focusing on is getting George to forgive you. I think George is more big on words and feelings rather than gestures and gifts. You need to stop all this childish shit and tell George exactly what you feel for him, how long you've felt it for and how miserable you are without him because you look a mess right now, mate." Daniel says and it makes sense. George does value words over action whereas I am the complete opposite.

I'm not good with words but I will be, I have to. Daniel is right. I'm a grown man, I can handle talking about my feelings especially when those feelings are of love and is for the person I love. George may not believe it now but he will soon enough.

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It's been a week since I spoke to Max, I've been trying my best to move on and get over him but it doesn't matter how much I try, I can't stop thinking about him and I hate myself for it. I don't know why I feel so much when he does not. We spent the same months together, the things we did to each other in our hotel rooms were things we did together, so why do I feel so much about him? Why doesn't he feel it for me? Why did he try lying and saying that he loves me?

Obviously I know why he doesn't feel the same way but still it hurts. It hurts knowing he's not over Charles, it hurts knowing he was just using me to get over Charles and what hurts the most is that I acted so pathetic that he felt the need to lie. Nothing makes me forget the way he used to kiss me, the way he used to touch me... I've felt things for Max that I haven't felt for anyone else ever. Not even Toto, not that Toto and I are emotionally involved- it's just, he's been the only constant in my life. He never left and I don't know what I would do if he did because I admire and respect him the most. I think very highly of him and I care about what he thinks of me which is why I'm desperate to forget Max. What would Toto think of he knew I wanted someone who doesn't want it respect me? Would he finally realise I'm as pathetic as I know I am? Would he finally left? Kick me out of Mercedes?

I feel my hands shaking and my heart racing. A cold sweat trickles down my forehead and I crouch down trying to calm myself down but it's not working! Nothing's working! My hands won't stop shaking and I feel unbearably nauseous. I didn't even realise I'm crying, it's only until my vision blurs with tears is when I realise. My mind is screaming at my body to stop, I'm cold, I try throwing up but I can't. I can hardly move and I don't know know why. Why is this happening?

I stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, and after checking the time and seeing that it's 3:45 PM, confirms that i was in fact on the floor for hours. I feel irritated at myself. I'm so stupid. I grab my towel and go to the bathroom to shower. I spent a through 45 minutes scrubbing my skin until it's red and I'm bruised but I don't care. I'm just so angry at myself right now. I have no right to have bloody panick attacks yet there I was on the floor, sobbing like something's wrong. I'm drying my hair when I hear the doorbell ring. I placed the towel down and go to the door. I open it.

"Toto..." I say in suprise, I wasn't expecting to see him too but I'm not upset about it. I stare up at him for a few minutes before he speaks.

"Can I come in?" He asked and I feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me.

"Uh- yes of course-" I said, stumbling over my words a bit before moving aside for him to come it. I close the door and follow him into my living room.

"... So... What's up?" I asked awkwardly which is weird because it's never like this with Toto. "I wanted to see you." He said in that thick Austrian accent that makes me feel things I absolutely shouldn't. "You did?" I whisper and before I know it his index and thumb fingers are on my chin, tilting my head up to make me look up at him. I feel my face turning red. "I-" He cuts my words off with a soft kiss.

After a few minutes he pulls away and I feel my knees growing weak, my face is flushed and I hold onto him for support. I reach up trying to kiss him again but he doesn't let me.

"What happened to your hands?" He asked, brows furrowed, taking ahold of both of my hands. "What?" I asked in confusion and he holds my hands up just for a moment so I can see the redness. "Oh- that's nothing really-" I say a bit embarrassed, pulling my hands away from him but his grip just tightens. "Nothing? You're hurting yourself but it's nothing?" His tone raises and I feel my heart sinking. "No! No- I wasn't- I didn't hurt myself! I was just-" He cuts me off. "Do you think I'm stupid George?" He asked and before I can say no he's speaking. "Or worse, do you think I don't know you? Your mind? How you think just because you're not cutting yourself that it doesn't count? Because it really doesn't for you does it? You think once the scars aren't permanent it doesn't matter but it does." He says firmly and I feel my throat closing up. I can't speak. My eyes are filled with tears.

I try desperately to pull away from him but he doesn't let me. He pulls me into his strong arms and keeps me there in his embrace and I feel when the sob leaves my throat and the tears leave my eyes. I cling to him, burying my face in his chest and just sobbing. Toto strokes my hair and whispers praises and words of encouragement in my ear. I feel myself falling asleep in his arms and I don't fight it, I allow myself be held in his arms, just or tonight at least.

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I spent all night hyping myself up to go see George today, I feel nervous and I'm hoping he doesn't turn me away. I take a deep breath before I get out of my car and knock on his door. After a few minutes he doesn't open the door so I knock again, louder this time. The door opens.

"George, I-" I cut myself off. My smile fades. George didn't open the door. Torger Wolff does. I feel my eye twitching. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I growled, not bothering to hide my anger and disdain towards him.

"I could ask you the same thing, Max." He said and it just pisses me off even more. "Where's George?" I asked, glaring daggers at him. "George is still in bed. He had a long night." The fuck? What the fuck did he just say to me? "You sick bastard!" I yell. George has every right to be upset with me but this is too far. He knows I hate that he has been with another man yet he's continuing to see Toto. I hate that there was another man but that was me. I was the other man because he's been seeing Toto longer than he has been with me.

"You should leave, Max. George wouldn't want to see you, especially not as soon as he wakes up." The arrogant fucker says. My hands ball into fists at my side and my jaw clenches. "Yeah well I think he should decide that." I manage to say despite my obvious anger. "He has, Max. You're just too stubborn to see it. He doesn't need you, not like how he needs me." He says and I scoff at the arrogance. "George doesn't need you." I tell him firmly. "Well, he says otherwise." Bastard. Toto Wolff is a fucking bastard and I hate him.

"He's clearly confused then. He doesn't need a old, temperamental bitch like you." I sneer but Toto laughs. The audacity of this senile fucker to laugh. "The irony of Max Verstappen talking about someone's temper is hilarious." The Austrian says and right as I was about to insult him again I hear the sweet voice that I so long for.

"Who's at the door?" He asked Toto, the sleepiness of his voice is transparent and I feel the need to grab him and keep him in my arms forever.

"George." I call to as I can't see him because he's standing directly behind Toto. There's silence for a few moments.

"Tell him to leave." I hear he tells Toto and Im pissed off again. "Tell me yourself!" I yell. He's being difficult right now. I hate when he acts like this.

"You need to leave." He says, appearing next to Toto. He looks beautiful, his hair is messy from now getting out of his, his big, bright blue eyes are a bit and his full, pink lips from a pout and I feel an overwhelming need to grab him and kiss him until we're both breathless. "You look beautiful-" I hear myself say before I can stop myself. Fuck. I probably look desperate now. He scowls. Fuck he's beautiful.

"Max, leave." George says. I start to panic a bit but I don't let it show. "Why? Are you that much of a coward that you're running from a simple conversation with me?" I say, knowing it's going to anger him. That's the gold. I'll get him so angry that he can't possibly refuse to not have a conversation with me.

His eyes darken at my words. Good. "Well?" I say in a fauxed innocence. "Can I come in? Will we talk now? When is Toto leaving? I don't like him here and I don't want him here for our little one on one." I say.

"No. Absolutely not. You're not coming in, we will not speak now and Toto isn't leaving!" He yells. He's adorable when he's angry but the part about Toto not leaving annoys me. "But why?" I asked and he just sighs as if this conversation is exhausting or something. "It's too early for this." I hear him mumble." "Fine, we'll talk tonight then, at my place and obviously if you don't come to me I'll come to you." I say with a smile. He shuts the door without another word.

That was a good conversation with George. The only bad part was the old bastard. He ruined my day but at least I saw George but I still need to get him away from Torger and I think after tonight he wouldn't what that old man anymore.

Chapter Text

𝐌𝐚𝐱:

I spent all day decorating my house with candles and rose petals for George. I can't wait for him to come over. He'll love it. He'll love me. Once in done placing the candles on the floor and kitchen table and two on my nightstand I go shower. After I showered I lit all of the candles, there are rose petals on my bed and all over the floor. This is going to be hell to clean but it's going to win me back George, I'm certain of it.

It's 8:05 and he isn't here yet. I try not to panic yet because it's still early. I'm hopefully George will come. Suddenly 8:05 turns into 8:45 and then 9:00 PM. I feel my heart breaking a bit. I know he never said he'd come but still, I wished he would've came so he could see how sorry I am and how much he means to me. He's my heart and these few weeks without him has been hell. I need him back. I feel tears glistening in my eyes and I rough wipe them away. I grab my keys and head to the door.

As my hand held the door knob, there's a knock on the door. I open it immediately and there he is. My beautiful boy. He looks perfect. He's wearing a white shirt with matching linen trousers, he looks like an angel. My heart races and for a second I think it's about to burst out of my chest.

"Schat." I breathed out, relieved that he came. "Come in." I say, taking his hand in mine and bringing him inside. He looks around at the candles and rose petals. I feel nervous for a second but I don't allow myself to dwell on the nerves, not when the most beautiful person in the world is standing in front of me, not when he's so close that I can touch him, hold him in my arms and kiss his prefect lips. "Do you like it?" I asked.

"Max... You-" He stops himself with a sigh. "You shouldn't have done all of this." He says. "Why not?" I asked, knowing he's right, knowing that we should at least talk about our problems instead of trying to fix it with sex. George is quiet for a moment. "... I just need you to see how much I care about you, how much I love you." I say in a whisper. He turns away from me.

"Why do you do this? Why do you say things you don't mean? You don't love me Max, you've made that clear." I feel irritated and helpless at his words. I made a mistake, a stupid one and I've apologized for it so why can't he just forgive me already? "It's not fair that you're still punishing me for a mistake I made. I wasn't trying you hurt you intentionally I was just confused and yes, I should've communicated better but I didn't and I'm sorry so can we just please move on?!" I say, frustrated.

"Are you serious right now?" George asked. "How can I move on with you after that? Do you truly expect me to just forgive you and let it go even though you're still in love with Charles?" I feel a wave of annoyance and anger wash over me. I told him I'm not in love with Charles and he still doesn't believe me!

"Stop! Stop, I'm not in love with him, I love you, I only love you and I made a mistake, a stupid one but can you please stop punishing me for it and at least try to get over it? And sleeping with Toto? That has to stop because just like how you didn't like the list, I don't like him touching you." I say. I know the list and him being with Toto are completely different but I don't care.

"You can't just-" I cut him off. "Why not? I love you, George. I want you. I don't want anyone else despite what I did but can you say the same? You're this upset about the list but how long did it take you to jump back in Toto's bed like the whore he made you in-" He slaps me across the face. His beautiful eyes burn with anger. Fuck he's beautiful.

I take ahold of his wrist and pull him closer to me. "I want you." I whisper in his ear as my free hand finds his waist. "Go to hell." He hisses. "No, I'd rather stay here with you." I replied back, kissing alongside his jaw. He's so beautiful when he's furious at me. I mean, he's beautiful all the time but now especially, he's trying his hardest to stay angry at me, to not give in to me but it's not working. He wants me and I know, he knows I know it. He wants me and I'm more than happy to give him what he wants.

Chapter Text

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞:

Max is kissing my neck, his hands are on my waist and I can't bring myself to push him away. “Max..” I managed to whisper out but he bites onto my neck so hard I'm surprised he didn't break skin. “Shh. Let me worship you, baby.” He whispered in my ear, taking me to his bed. Max pushes me onto the mattress covered in rose petals, he pulls off his shirt and starts undoing his belt and taking off his pants and I find myself shamelessly starting at his body, feeling myself getting flushed and aroused by the mere sight of him.

Before I knew it, Max is fully undressed before me and I can't take my eyes off of him. My mind was blank for a full minute, I barely processed when Max came onto the bed, straddling my hips and looking down at me with a look of admiration that usually isn't there. I've grown use to seeing hunger and desire in Max's eyes but never this... Never something so deep. He kisses me. The kiss is slow and deep, his lips claim mines, his tongue dances with my own in a fight for dominance that he eventually wins but only because I got tired. My hands are on him, sliding down his muscular chest onto his abs as his mouth dominants me. I fist his hard cock and tighten my hand around it, just enough to make him falter. He growls into my mouth before pulling away from my lips.

“Schat.” He says in a low, husky tone. “Yes?” I answered, batting my lashes up at him innocently. I was about to say something smart but he pulls me up, just so my back is off the bed. He pulls off my shirt and for a few seconds I'm stunned. I mean yeah we've done this many, many times before but Max is never usually this... Desperate, not that I don't like it, I very much do, it's just not how he usually is. “Is a bit unfair really.” He said, tossing my shirt to the floor which earned him a glare but he continues. “I'm here, fully naked for you and you're covered head to toe.” He said, reaching to unbutton my trousers now. I let him. I let him undress me, I let him touch me like he's starved, I let him devour me.

“I need it now.” He growls, biting and kissing on my neck. His hands are roaming my body and his lips are all over me. “I need to fuck you now.” He says in a tone reeking of desperation you'd never expect from a four time world champion. “Beg.” I say, plain and simple. “You want to fuck me, Max? Beg for it.” I say and I hear a faint whimper escaping his lips. “Please...” He whispers. “Please what, Maxie?” I ask mockingly. “Please... Please let me fuck you..” He asks so sweetly and I almost feel bad for torturing him still. Almost. “Why should I?” I asked. “Why should I let you have me?” I asked as if I am genuinely wondering that. Max whimpers, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

“Please... Please schat...” He whispers out and I stroke the back of his head gently with my free hand. I stroke his cock causing him to moan and bite down on my neck. “Fuck me, Max.” I whisper in his ear and he doesn't waste any time. He pushes it in slowly, letting me grow accustom to his size. I bite onto my bottom lip to keep myself from screaming once he's fully in. I feel tears welling up in my eyes but I don't want him to think I want to stop because I don't. I wrap my legs around his waist and try to turn my face away but Max doesn't let me.

“.. Max-” I whimpered out. “Do you want to stop, baby?” He asked, pulling out slightly and the tears fall from my eyes, streaming down my face as I shake my head no. “Please don't.” I say, tightening my legs around his waist. Max pushes it back in me and my eyes roll back. He's moving slowly and I do appreciate it but I just need him to fuck me, hard and fast like all the other times. “Max... Faster.” I say, biting onto his shoulder, wanting to leave a mark.

I pull back from his shoulder with a pout when I realise he isn't moving. At all. “Max?” I say, trying not to sound annoyed or bratty. “Patience, schat.” He says, running his thumb over my nipple which causes me to him. I glare up at him. “Max-” He cuts me off. “Relax, princess. I'll take good care of you.” He says, not giving me time to respond because his mouth latches onto my nipple, sucking and biting it.

“Ahhhh! Max!” I moaned out, writhing under him. He switches to the next one and my back arches. My hands are in his hair, tugging at but not enough to pull him off. “Please... Max, I-... I need you.” I whimper out and his lips leave my chest and finally, finally, his eyes meet mine. They’re dark but steady, like he’s in complete control, and I hate how much I melt under that.

“Max…” I whisper again, but it comes out softer this time. He smirks, brushing the hair back from my damp forehead, his touch almost maddening in how gentle it is. “Always so impatient,” he teases, and instead of giving me what I want, he leans down and kisses me. It’s deep and consuming, stealing the very breath from my lungs until all I can do is cling to him.

I can taste the faint salt of my own tears on his lips. He doesn’t pull away immediately, he lingers, pressing smaller, slower kisses until I’m trembling beneath him. It’s infuriating how he can make me feel both starved and overwhelmed at the same time.

When he finally draws back, his thumb strokes along my cheekbone, catching the wetness there. “See?” he murmurs. “You don’t always need it rough to know I’ve got you.” I bite my lip, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, my chest rising and falling as I try to catch my breath. I hate that he’s right. I hate even more how much I crave this, his control, his reassurance, the way he can unravel me without even moving.

“Max...” I say breathlessly. “I know baby, I know.” He says as he finally starts moving. It's slow at first but then he finally starts fucking me the way I want. I'm utterly lost in him. My eyes are rolling back, my legs slightly tremble around his waist and his hand wraps around my cock. Max strokes me until I'm trembling in his arms. I finished first and he's not far off, finishing right after. His arms wrap around my waist and I pull him closer to me if that's even possible.

He rest his forehead against mine for a few moments before kissing my cheek and burying his face in the crook of my neck. My hands tangle with his hair and I let myself be free of all of the problems we have, I let myself be one with Max and tomorrow I'll think about the consequences of allowing myself to indulge with Max.

Chapter Text

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞:

I woke up feeling a sense of comfort I haven't felt in weeks, I woke up in the arms of Max Verstappen. His arms are wrapped around my waist and his face is buried in my chest. I want to get out of bed so badly but I don't want to wake him. I spend the next forty-five minutes in bed, cuddling him while telling myself I'm trying to get him off of me when that's probably the furthest thing from the truth right now.

I do eventually get off from under him and head to the shower. My body aches from last night in all the best ways possible. I found a spare toothbrush brushed my teeth and showered then threw on a t-shirt and sweatpants. I head into the living room after making myself coffee. I can't go back into my room, I can't believe I had sex with Max last night after I told myself I need to let him go. I just can't help it and it's horrible but he's so amazing. I was sipping my coffee when I heard someone knocking on the door. I'm a bit confused because I don't think Max wasn't expecting any company. I go to the door and open it. It's Alex.

“Alex... What-.. What are you doing here, mate? ” I asked, trying and failing to mask the nervousness in my voice. He gives me a weird look. “Mate, what are you doing here?” He asks and yeah I'm fucked. Fuck. I didn't think Alex and Max hang out but apparently they do. Max is in bed and Alex is here at his door. Jesus Christ, I'm screwed. “Well? Aren't you gonna invite me into your former hook-up's house that I'm sure you have a good reason for being at?” Alex asks and I want to think of excuse for why I can't but I genuinely can't think of anything so I just move aside silently and hope that Max stays asleep until Alex leaves. I close the door and follow Alex to the living room. “I'll get you some coffee.” I said and he nods. I return with the coffee and hand it to him. “Thanks.” He said. “So what are you doing here? And please for the love of God don't tell me you're sleeping with Max again.” He said, taking a sip. “What? Me? And Max? Sleeping together again? No. No, I'm only here because Max is out of town and he needed someone to watch his house.. ” I say knowing it's a stupid lie and he gives me a pointed look.

“We've known each other for far too long so I'm afraid I can tell when you're lying.” Alex says and I sigh. I could really never lie to Alex. I was about to tell him about Max but guess who comes out of his bedroom fully naked at the exact same time? Max.

“Morning.” Max said, looking far too unbothered by the fact that Alex is here looking mortified. “Max-” I say, standing, not sure of what to say after. Max smiles at me. “Good morning, schat.” He says softly before leaning in and kissing my cheek. Before I could even say anything I hear Alex. “What the fuck?” He says and it's more in astonishment than anything else. I close my eyes, not even wanting to look at him. “Ugh. Can't we see George and I are having a moment, Albon?” Max says with a scowl. “George and you? Having a moment? As in both of you together?” Alex repeats in shock I think and Max just sighs again. “When is he leaving? I wanted you to myself this morning.” Max says with a frown and I force myself to reopen my eyes. Fuck. “Max, last night doesn't change anything-” I try to say but he interrupts.

“Yes it does.” He says, grabbing my waist as if Alex isn't here. “Last night was the beginning of something new for us, George. Last night wasn't even a fraction of how I really feel about you and I want you to know just how much I love you.” He says and it's my turn to look mortified now. Alex is fully turned away from Max and I and I really can't blame him. I'm speechless at this point. “Max... Can you please get dressed?” I asked and he chuckled. “Why? Don't you like what you see?” He teases and my face flushes. “Now, Max.” I say and he does go back to his room to get dressed.

“George William Russell.” Alex says, turning to face me. “I- I don't know what to say to you! I mean I had hoped that there was y'know, a reasonable explanation for you being here but this? Seriously? After how badly it ended last time? After how much you cried over this guy? Are we serious right now?” Alex says and I know he has a point but Max is a drug I'm unfortunately addicted to. “Yeah. I was wrong for what I did but that wasn't the end of George and I's relationship. There will never be an end to George and I because we belong together and you should support it because that's what good friends do.” Max replied. I didn't even realise he came out of his room. Alex sighs.

“Max... I-” He cuts me off. “Let me make it up to you... Give me a chance, please.” He says and I can't bring myself to say no. “Okay..” I say in a whisper and Alex sits back down with a sigh, downing his coffee.

Chapter Text

𝐌𝐚𝐱:

George looks so small standing in front of Alex. He’s trying to act calm, trying to hold himself together, but I can see the panic flickering behind his beautiful blue eyes. I shouldn’t find it endearing, but I do. Everything about him even the way he lies makes me want to wrap him up and keep him safe from everything. Even from himself.

I didn’t plan on Alex showing up this morning, obviously. But I don’t regret walking out there the way I did. Naked, comfortable, unbothered. Why should I hide? I love George. I’m tired of pretending otherwise.

I watch from the kitchen doorway now, leaning against the frame while George and Alex talk in low voices. George is nervous I can tell by the way his fingers keep brushing through his hair. Alex is doing that thing where he crosses his arms and leans forward slightly like he’s about to give a lecture. I almost laugh.

They don’t understand. They don’t get it.

George isn’t some random fling. He never was. He’s… he’s the one thing that makes me slow down. That makes everything make sense.

When George said “Okay” to giving me another chance, I swear something in my chest unclenched. I could finally breathe again. He doesn’t realize how much he hurts me when he pulls away like I’m nothing more than a mistake he keeps trying to fix.

I make us both breakfast just to do something with my hands, just to keep from dragging him back to bed and showing him that I mean what I said. That I love him. That last night wasn’t just sex for me. It was me giving him every piece of myself he’s ever asked for without words.

Alex leaves after a while, muttering something about needing to “clear his head.” George thanks him quietly and shuts the door. The silence that follows feels heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just real.

He turns to face me, arms folded, eyes soft but conflicted.

“Max…” he starts, but I cut him off with a smile. “Don’t ruin it. Not yet.”

He exhales sharply, but he doesn’t walk away. That’s progress.

I reach for him, pulling him closer until I can feel his heartbeat against mine. “You always overthink everything,” I whisper into his hair. “You keep trying to make rules, set boundaries, pretend like you can control what this is. But you can’t. You and I… we don’t stop.”

He shakes his head, but his hands grip my shirt tighter. “That’s exactly the problem,” he murmurs. “We don’t stop. Even when we should.”

I smile against his forehead. “Maybe that’s what makes it real.”

He doesn’t answer, and I don’t press him. I just hold him until he relaxes against me, until I feel him melt into my chest again like he did last night.

I know he’s scared. I know I hurt him before. But I’ll prove to him that this time is different — that I’m not just saying words because it feels right in the morning light.

George Russell belongs with me. And this time, I’m not letting him go.

Chapter Text

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞:

I can’t help feeling my heart aching whenever Max does something nice or tells me how much he loves me. I love Max, and he loves me, and my stupid heart hurts in the best possible way whenever he tells me he loves me. Max is trying and he’s doing so well. He said that he’d be better, and he is. I’ve always loved Max Verstappen– and he finally loves me back. It’s not as pathetic as it sounds, because it’s okay that I’m not his first. He wasn’t my first either. But he’s my heart. He has my heart. I’d willingly give him my soul if he asked; it’s morbid, but it’s honest.

He’s in the kitchen when I wander in, hair a messy halo of brown-blond, wearing grey sweatpants with no shirt. There’s a pan on the stove, coffee in the French press, and the faintest smell of something burning.

“Max,” I say, trying not to laugh, “you’re setting my kitchen on fire.”

He turns, spatula in hand, grinning like an idiot. “No I’m not. It’s just… a bit crispy. You like crispy.”

I lean against the counter, crossing my arms, trying to hide the way my chest expands at the sight of him. The morning sunlight catches on the tips of his hair, makes his skin glow. “You’re a menace,” I tell him.

“And yet,” He replies, turning back to the pan, “you still let me cook.”

“That’s because you look cute doing it.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes soft and amused. “You think I’m cute?”

“I think you’re a disaster,” I say, stepping up behind him, arms sliding around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder. “A very lovable disaster.”

He hums, that little sound that vibrates through his chest. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen what’s in the pan.”

I peer over his shoulder. The eggs are slightly charred, the toast suspiciously blackened. “I’ll still eat it,” I say. “It’s made by you.”

He laughs, low and genuine, and my heart aches again that same familiar ache that’s not pain, not anymore, but fullness. The kind that makes you realize that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

We sit at the table, the food barely edible, but it doesn’t matter. Max keeps trying to feed me his “masterpiece,” and I keep pretending it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. He’s proud of himself, and I’m proud of him. Not because of breakfast, but because he’s here — trying, being soft, being real.

“Remember when you said you’d never be domestic?” I ask him, teasing.

He snorts. “I remember saying I’d never wake up before nine on a day off. You’ve ruined me.”

“You love it.”

He looks up at me then, really looks, and there’s that thing in his eyes that still makes me feel fourteen again that mix of wonder and warmth, like he can’t believe I’m his either. “Yeah,” he says softly, “I do.”

And I think, so do I.

Later, after breakfast, we end up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that’s too small for two people. Max is half-asleep, head resting against my chest, one arm thrown lazily around my waist. The TV hums softly in the background, some old documentary neither of us are watching. I’m tracing lazy circles on his back when he murmurs, “You’re quiet.”

“I’m thinking,” I say.

“Dangerous.”

“Shut up,” I laugh. “I’m thinking about how… happy I am.”

He tilts his head up, eyes half-closed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think I’d get this, you know? Us. Something that’s not chaos. Something that feels… right.”

He presses a kiss to my collarbone, then another to my neck. “It is right.”

And that’s all he says. But it’s enough.

It’s funny how love sneaks up on you. With Max, it was never gentle at first it was wild, messy, angry. We burned each other at the start. I think about the nights we didn’t speak, and the ones we couldn’t stop talking. I think about the first time he told me he loved me. I think about how he calls me darling in Dutch, quiet and unguarded like it's a secret between only us. I can't imagine my life without Max in it.

Love, for us, isn’t always the grand gesture. It’s the small things him making terrible coffee because he insists it tastes better when he makes it, or him pretending not to notice how I steals his shirts when I know we won't be seeing each other for a while. There’s something so sacred about the ordinary.

That evening, we take a walk just around the neighborhood, hands brushing, the sky melting into pinks and golds. Max is rambling about a sim race he’s been obsessed with lately, and I’m listening, smiling at the way his eyes light up when he talks.

“You’re not even listening, are you?” he accuses.

“I am!” I protest. “Something about corner exits and being robbed of victory by lag.”

He gives me a playful shove. “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

I laugh, and he looks at me, and for a second everything stops the air, the street, the noise of the world. It’s just us, two idiots in love, walking under a sky that feels too beautiful for a Tuesday evening.

“I do,” he says again, softer this time. “You know that, right?”

I nod. “I know.”

When we get home, the lights are dim, the air smells like rain. I’m curled on the sofa while Max changes into sweats, muttering something about me stealing all his joggers. He comes back with a blanket, throws it over both of us, and pulls me close until our foreheads touch.

“Stay here,” he murmurs.

“As if I’d go anywhere.”

He smiles against my lips, kisses me once slow, unhurried. There’s no rush, no need to prove anything. Just us.

We end up talking about nothing for hours stupid things, like what we’d name our future dog, or whether pineapples belong on pizza (they do, I argue; he vehemently disagrees). We talk until the laughter turns quiet, until words fade and only silence remains. But it’s not awkward. It’s peace.

And as I watch him fall asleep, his hand still tangled with mine, I think this is it. This is love. Not fireworks, not noise. Just warmth. Just presence. Just him.

It’s morning again when I wake up. Max is still asleep beside me, hair sticking up in every direction, mouth slightly open. The sunlight paints soft patterns across his face, and I can’t help but smile.

I think back to every version of us the angry kids, the rivals, the friends, the hesitant lovers. And I realize that every road, every fight, every stupid mistake led here. To this the quiet, beautiful now.

I press a kiss to his temple and whisper, “I love you.”

He stirs, half-awake, mumbling something incoherent before pulling me closer. His hand finds mine beneath the blanket, squeezes gently.

“Love you too,” he mutters, voice heavy with sleep. And my heart aches again the good kind, the full kind. The kind that means you’ve found home.

Sometimes I still can’t believe it. That we survived everything, that we learned to be soft with each other, that love found its way in even when we tried to push it out.

Max once told me that he doesn’t believe in fate. That everything happens because you fight for it. And maybe he’s right. Maybe we fought for this not with each other this time, but for each other.

And if that’s true, then I’d fight for him every single day, just to wake up like this. Just to hear him laugh. Just to feel his heartbeat under my hand.

Because he’s not just Max Verstappen, the 4 time world champion, the chaos, the brilliance. He’s my Max. The one who burns breakfast. The one who steals my hoodies. The one who holds me when words fail.

And God, I love him.

Chapter Text

𝐌𝐚𝐱:

I never thought I’d be here. Sitting on this couch, George curled up next to me, sunlight slanting through the window and catching the soft lines of his face, and feeling like I’ve finally arrived somewhere that feels like home. It’s ridiculous, really– me, Max Verstappen, a man who’s never been patient with himself or anyone else, feeling whole. Feeling loved. Feeling safe.

I watch him, his hair tousled, hoodie sleeves creeping past his wrists, and my chest tightens. He doesn’t know I’m staring; he’s too busy scrolling through his phone, the little furrow in his brow making my heart ache in that familiar way it does because I’m both in love and terrified of losing him.

And I think about the first time he gave me a chance. Not the first time I tried– we’ve had fights, misunderstandings, moments where I thought I’d ruin everything but the first real chance. The one where he saw me for me, the mess and the chaos and the stubbornness, and said, okay, we can try.

I’ve spent a lot of my life taking. Taking risks on the track, taking victories, taking everything I wanted, and too often I’ve taken the people around me for granted. But George… George gave me patience. He gave me trust I wasn’t sure I deserved. And the truth? I would give anything to repay him, to show him I’m worthy of that trust.

I bend down and kiss the top of his head, feeling him shift just enough to nuzzle closer into my chest. “You’re mine,” I murmur, almost to myself.

He hums, half-asleep, and it’s the sort of sound that burrows into your chest and refuses to leave. I can feel the rise and fall of his breath against me, and for a moment, I let myself just be. Be here, with him, without the world screaming at me to do better, to win, to perform. Because with George, I don’t have to perform. I just have to be. Max. Just me.

But even in this perfect quiet, there’s a shadow that creeps in. Not because of anything he’s doing– God, no but because of what was.

Torger Wolff.

I hate that name. Not because of who he is, exactly, but because he was part of George’s past but George also seems him everyday, the bastard is his boss. I hate that George’s warmth, his heart, his touch… once belonged to someone else, even if it’s just in memory. And I know it’s irrational. I know Toto is irrelevant. I know George isn’t with him anymore. But my chest tightens every time I think about it, because I want all of George. Not pieces. Not leftovers of someone else’s affection.

I close my eyes and press my forehead to his hair, trying to breathe past the jealousy. It’s stupid. It’s childish. But it’s real and he’s here, curled against me, entirely mine, and I want to memorize every second of it.

Later, we’re in the kitchen again, making dinner together. George is laughing at something I said probably a terrible joke about my driving line and I can’t stop smiling at him. His laugh is light, infectious, and it reminds me of why I fell in love with him in the first place. Why I keep falling in love with him again and again.

“Max, you’re ridiculous,” He says between chuckles, shaking his head as he chops vegetables.

“And you love it,” I reply, wrapping an arm around his waist from behind.

He leans back into me, resting his head against my chest. “Yeah, unfortunately.” He teases.

And my chest aches again. This constant, happy ache that’s almost painful in its intensity. Because I love him. So completely, so utterly, that sometimes it’s like my body can’t hold it all but then the other thought sneaks in. The one I try to push down.

Torger.

I glance at him at his hands moving confidently over the vegetables, at the tilt of his head, the curve of his neck and I feel a spike of that familiar jealousy. He’s been with someone like Toto before. Someone older, established, someone powerful and… in some ways, everything I’m not.

I hate myself for thinking it. I hate that my insecurity ever gets the better of me. But it’s there. Sharp and unrelenting.

I take a deep breath, press a kiss to the top of his head, and whisper, “I’m lucky, you know. So damn lucky.”

He smiles without looking up, humming softly. “Yeah? How lucky?”

“I got you,” I say, trying to make it sound casual. But my voice cracks a little, betraying the weight behind it. “You’re mine. And you chose me. You trusted me. You… gave me a second chance.”

George pauses mid-chop and looks up at me, those bright, trusting eyes meeting mine. And I realize I don’t need to say more. He knows. He always knows.

Later that night, we’re on the couch again, the city lights spilling through the windows, the quiet hum of cars outside. George is leaning against me, head on my chest, and I can feel the rhythm of his breathing. My hand finds his, lacing our fingers together.

“I hate that you ever… were with him,” I confess, almost against my will. The words taste bitter in my mouth, but I need to say them. I need him to understand.

George frowns, lifting his head just enough to look at me. “Max…”

“No, listen,” I insist. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do. Completely. But…” I pause, trying to shape the feeling, trying to make it coherent. “I can’t help but feel jealous, even though I know it’s stupid. I know Toto isn’t here. I know I’m the one you want. But I can’t help it. Sometimes I just… feel like I have to fight for you, even when I’m the one you picked.”

George’s hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek softly. “Max,” He says, voice gentle. “You don’t have to fight. You never have to fight for me. I chose you. I wanted you. And I’ll keep choosing you, every single day.”

The honesty in his voice, the steady conviction, breaks something open inside me. I feel my chest loosen, the tension that’s been knotting my stomach for days unravelling. He’s right. He always chooses me.

“I love you,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his. “More than I ever thought I could.”

“I love you too.” He says, soft, sure. “Always.”

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself fully believe it. Believe that I’m worthy of him. That George is mine, completely, and that nothing from the past can touch what we have now.

The next few days blur into a warm, comforting routine. We’re together constantly in the kitchen, on the couch, taking long walks in the park, even sneaking in short naps before training sessions. Every time I see him laugh, every time he presses a soft kiss to my cheek or slides his hand into mine, I feel that same ache in my chest, that happy ache that tells me I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

And yet… The jealousy still lingers, quiet and shadowy.

It comes when George talks about the work casually. When he mentions Toto’s name even once, I feel the sharp tug in my chest. But I don’t let it show. I force myself to breathe, to remind myself that this is over. That George isn’t with him. That George chose me.

And slowly, almost imperceptibly, the jealousy softens. I see it for what it is: a reminder of how much I love him. How much I don’t want to lose him. How precious this is.

One evening, we’re curled up in bed, George’s head on my chest, and I’m tracing circles on his back. I’m thinking about how lucky I am, how utterly grateful I am, and I find myself whispering, “I can’t believe you gave me another chance. I don’t deserve this.”

He hums against me, sleepily, “You deserve it, Max. You’re here. You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

And I press a kiss to the top of his head, holding him tighter, feeling every heartbeat. “I’ll never take this for granted,” I promise. “I’ll never let anything come between us. Not him. Not anyone. Just… us.”

George lifts his head to look at me, sleepy eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Just us,” he repeats. And in that moment, I feel it. The jealousy is still there, but it’s tiny, insignificant compared to the love, the gratitude, the joy of having him in my life.

I could spend every second of every day proving to him, to myself, that I am worthy of this. And I will. Because he is my heart. My home. My second chance. My everything.

And finally, finally, I allow myself to relax completely, to feel the peace and the happiness that I’ve been chasing for so long. I hold him close, breathing in his scent, memorizing the curve of his cheek against mine, and I know no matter what shadows from the past linger, no matter the stupid little jealousies this is ours.

And it’s perfect.

Chapter Text

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞:

Max falls asleep before I do. He usually does.

There’s something almost funny about it, the way his body gives in so completely once he finally lets himself rest. Like he’s spent the whole day wound too tight, muscles coiled, jaw set, eyes sharp and watchful, and the second he decides he’s safe, that he can stop fighting, everything just… shuts down.

His arm is heavy around my waist, possessive even in sleep, fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt like he’s afraid I might disappear if he loosens his grip. His forehead is pressed against my collarbone, breath warm, steady. I can feel the faint vibration of his hum when he exhales, the way his chest rises and falls against mine. I stare at the ceiling long after the room goes quiet.

Max said he hated that I’d ever been with him.

He didn’t say the name. He never does. He doesn’t have to.

I don’t blame him for it. Not really. If the roles were reversed, if I were the one carrying the ghost of someone who’d once had him, shaped him, mentored him, I don’t think I’d be any better at hiding it.

But the thing is… I’ve lived with jealousy my entire life.

Not the hot, ugly kind people like to talk about. Not the loud, explosive kind. Mine has always been quiet. Controlled. The kind you swallow down and lock away behind a polite smile and perfect posture.

I was always the kid watching someone else be chosen first.

The prodigy.
The golden boy.
The one everyone expected more from.

I learned early how to make myself smaller without disappearing. How to accept being second without letting it show. How to smile when someone else got what I wanted, needed, deserved just as much.

So when Max looks at me like I’m something precious, something he’s afraid to lose, something worth fighting for even when he already has me it does strange things to my chest.

It hurts.

And it heals.

I tilt my head slightly, careful not to wake him, and press my lips into his hair. He smells like clean cotton and something distinctly Max sharp and warm and familiar now in a way that still startles me sometimes.

“I chose you.” I’d told him.

And I meant it.

God, I mean it.

What he doesn’t see what he never seems to fully understandis how hard it was for me to believe I was allowed to choose at all.

For a long time, my life felt like a series of expectations I had to live up to. Team. Image. Future. Success measured in tenths of a second and public approval. There was always someone watching, evaluating, deciding whether I was good enough yet.

And then there was him.

The past isn’t loud anymore. It doesn’t scream at me the way it used to. But it left fingerprints. Marks you don’t see unless you know where to look.

Control disguised as care.
Affection that came with conditions.
Praise that vanished the moment I stepped out of line.

I loved him once. Or at least, I thought I did.

What I actually loved was the idea of being chosen so decisively. So publicly. So confidently.

I didn’t know then that love isn’t supposed to feel like something you have to earn every single day.

Max doesn’t make me earn it.

That’s what terrifies him, I think. And me, too, in a quieter way.

I shift slightly, my leg brushing his, and he tightens his arm instinctively, pulling me closer even in sleep. His brow furrows for a second, like he’s fighting something even in his dreams.

“I’m here,” I murmur softly, more for myself than for him.

He relaxes.

I lie there thinking about the way his voice sounded earlier—raw, honest, almost ashamed when he admitted his jealousy. Max Verstappen, four-time world champion, fearless on track, confessing something ugly and human because he trusts me enough to let me see it.

There’s a particular kind of intimacy in being someone’s soft place to land.

I know what it’s like to be on the other side of that confession. To carry insecurity like a second skin. To be afraid that no matter how much someone loves you, there will always be someone else someone better, louder, more impressive waiting in the wings.

I’ve spent years standing next to Max in the paddock, smiling for cameras, measuring myself against him in ways I never quite admitted out loud.

Now he’s lying in my arms, afraid he isn’t enough. Life is absurd like that.

The next morning, I wake to sunlight and the faint sound of movement in the kitchen.

Max is gone from the bed, his side still warm. I stretch slowly, letting myself exist in that half-awake haze where everything feels softer, less demanding. For once, my phone isn’t the first thing I reach for.

I pad down the hallway barefoot, following the smell of coffee.

Max is standing at the counter in one of my hoodies mine, not his which feels significant in a way I can’t quite articulate. His hair is still a mess, unruly dirty blonde strands that I spend every night running my hands through, he squints at the coffee machine like it’s personally offended him.

“Need help?” I ask, leaning against the doorway.

He looks up, and his face changes immediately. The tension I didn’t even realize was there eases, his mouth curving into a small, private smile meant just for me.

“Good morning, schat.” He says, voice rough with sleep.

“Morning.”

I walk over, wrap my arms around his waist from behind, and rest my chin between his shoulder blades. He smells like soap and coffee and something distinctly us. He leans back into me without hesitation.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

This, this, is the thing I wish I could bottle and keep forever. The quiet. The normalcy. The feeling that we’re just two people in a kitchen, not names on a leaderboard or headlines in a thousand articles.

“You okay?” I ask softly.

He hums. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

He snorts, then turns slightly, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Says you.”

I smile, but I don’t miss the way his grip tightens for just a second longer than necessary.

Jealousy doesn’t vanish overnight. It lingers. Changes shape. Becomes quieter, sneakier.

I don’t push him. Instead, I reach for a mug and take over the coffee-making duties. He watches me with that intense, unreadable focus that always makes me feel like I’m being studied, memorized.

“What?” I ask, glancing at him. “Nothing,” he says quickly. “Just… you’re real. Sometimes I forget.” I swallow past the sudden tightness in my throat. “I’m not going anywhere.” I don’t know if he believes me yet. But I’ll keep saying it until he does.

The days that follow settle into something easy and deceptively domestic.

We train. We eat. We exist in each other’s space without tripping over it.

Max sprawls on my couch with his feet in my lap while I scroll through data on my tablet. I read out loud to him sometimes ridiculous comments from fans, dry technical notes, bits of articles that make him roll his eyes and mutter about journalists.

He listens anyway.

Sometimes he reaches out and traces absent-minded patterns on my knee or thigh, grounding himself without even realizing it. Sometimes I catch him watching me when he thinks I’m not looking, his expression soft and almost reverent, like he’s afraid to blink and break the moment.

I know that look.

It’s the same one I used to wear.

The past creeps in during quiet moments. When we’re both relaxed enough to let our guards slip.

One afternoon, I mention a meeting in passing—nothing important, just logistics—and his shoulders tense instantly. Barely perceptible, but I feel it where my hand rests on his arm.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t accuse.

That somehow makes it worse.

I turn to face him fully. “Hey.”

He meets my eyes, guarded. “What?”

“Talk to me.”

“I am talking.”

“Max.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You said his name. That’s all.”

There it is. Small. Honest. Painfully human.

I step closer, closing the distance, and take his face in my hands. He freezes for a second before leaning into my touch.

“I’m allowed to talk about my work,” I say gently. “But I need you to understand something.”

His jaw tightens. “I know. I’m not trying to-”

“Listen,” I interrupt softly. “He’s part of my past. Not my present. Not my future. You are.”

He searches my face like he’s looking for a crack, a lie, anything that might confirm his worst fears.

He won’t find it.

“You don’t lose me just because someone else once had access to my life,” I continue. “That doesn’t make what we have weaker. If anything, it makes it clearer.”

His eyes soften, something vulnerable flickering there. “I don’t want to be compared.”

“I don’t compare,” I say immediately. “There’s nothing to compare.”

I pull him into my chest, holding him the way I wish someone had held me years ago, without expectation, without conditions.

He melts into me slowly, reluctantly, like trust is something he has to consciously choose every time. I don’t rush him.

That night, lying in bed with his head on my chest, his fingers tracing idle circles on my ribs, I let myself think the thought I’ve been avoiding.

I am in love with Max Verstappen.

Not the driver. Not the champion. Not the sharp edges the world sees.

The man who gets jealous because he’s afraid of losing me.
The man who falls asleep faster when he knows I’m there.
The man who holds me like I’m something he’s been searching for his whole life.

Love doesn’t always arrive quietly. Sometimes it crashes into you at 300 kilometers per hour and leaves you breathless in the aftermath.

“I used to think I was hard to love,” Max murmurs suddenly, breaking the silence.

I run my hand through his hair. “What changed?”

He shifts, looking up at me. “You.”

The simplicity of it nearly undoes me.

“You’re not hard to love,” I say, voice steady even as my heart stumbles. “You’re just not used to being loved without conditions.”

He considers that, then nods slowly, like the truth of it is sinking in.

“Promise me something.” He says.

“Anything.”

“If I get jealous… if I say something stupid… don’t leave.”

I cup his cheek, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I’m not leaving. But you have to let me reassure you. You have to let me stay.”

He swallows. “I want to.”

“That’s enough,” I tell him. “We’ll figure out the rest together.”

He smiles then small, genuine, unguarded and presses his forehead to mine.

“Just us,” he whispers.

“Just us,” I echo.

And for the first time in a long while, I believe that loving someone doesn’t mean losing yourself.

It means finding a home where the shadows are allowed to exist… without ruling the light.