Jumping to conclusions MV1
Or 5 times your brother George Russell accused you of flirting with another driver - and one time you were actually involved with a driver, and he had no clue.
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Russell!Reader
Warnings: fluff, english is not my native language
Word Count: 8.1k
f1 masterlist
[i] Alex Albon 2018
The world of motorsport wasn’t new to you. Ever since you could remember, it had been part of your life. Your older brother George was an F2 driver and well on his way to winning this year’s championship. Being involved in motorsport meant sacrifices. You sacrificed a lot, a normal childhood, typical teenage experiences, and even vacations with your friends. In the end, it was all worth it. While Cara and Benjy were close, you and George were even closer. Jokingly, he always said that you were his biggest fan, but to be honest, it was true. You always gave your best to support him.
But this year it was anything but easy. George was so close to winning the championship; the biggest milestone of his career so far. If he achieved that, it would change everything; he could get a place in Formula 1, the thing he'd dreamed of his entire life, the thing he'd been working towards for as long as anyone could remember. And you wanted to support him; you wanted to do everything in your power to help him achieve his goal. But at the same time, you were 17 and about to finish school. It went against everything you believed you'd been taught. But this time you had to put yourself first. Your parents demanded it, your siblings demanded it, even George demanded it. So instead of cheering him on from the sidelines every weekend, you mostly stayed home and studied for school.
But this weekend was different. You’d finished all your schoolwork, no exams were waiting, and the race was on home soil - in Great Britain. For once, you were allowed to join George again. To say you were thrilled was an understatement. You had missed the paddock, the loud roar of the engines, the smell of rubber, and the hectic activity in the garage.
Soaking it all in, you were leaned against the railing that separated the pit lane from the racetrack. The racing cars flying by ruffled your hair and you couldn't help but grin. You really had missed this so much.
„Oi, little Russell, you here?”
You heard a familiar voice behind you, and without turning around you knew who was standing there. But you did it anyway.
„I thought you ditched us to watch F1”, Alex Albon continued, and there was mischief glinting in his eyes. You and Alex went way back - he and George had been friends since their karting days. Confused, you frowned.
„Why would I watch F1?”
Sometimes you watched the highlights, but Sundays were reserved for George’s races. But hopefully next year it would be the same, hopefully next year he would get a seat in F1.
„For years you watched every race Verstappen did - and in my defense, I haven’t seen you for months. Maybe you ditched us to go back to your roots, old habits die hard and all that.”
„Why should I-”, you started again, but as the words left your mouth, you realized what he was hinting at. Gasping, you narrowed your eyes. He was talking about your childhood crush; the one you’d left long in the past. You couldn't believe he even remembered it. What was it? Certainly more than five years, maybe six or even seven.
„I was a child; you can’t hold it against me!” You yelled over the roar of the passing cars. And from the way Alex was grinning you knew, he wouldn’t let that go easily.
„Why do you even remember?”
So much time had passed since then. Since then, you’d had your first kiss, your first relationship, your first heartbreak, learned to drive a car and even a kart. Looking back, it seemed like a completely different life.
„Even back then, you were poetic.”
Dreading where Alex was going, you could only watch, mouth open. He wouldn’t dare. But he did, and looking back, you should’ve known. He’d always loved teasing you, like a big brother.
„How could I ever forget the poem you wrote - about his blue eyes, and your attempt to rhyme them with the sky.”
You cringed - not only internally, but visibly to everyone around. That hadn’t been your proudest moment, and you would’ve liked nothing more than to forget it - but of course, Alex had to remind you.
„A shame George swept in and stopped you before you could present it to Max. Do you think he still has it? George, I mean?”
Just thinking about the incident made you turn red like a tomato. Without another word to Alex - he didn't deserve one - you turned around and ran straight into George's arms. It took him only one glance at your reddened face and Alex's wide grin before his eyes narrowed.
„Is he flirting with you?”
„No, he’s just a complete idiot!”
[ii] Charles Leclerc 2019
2018 had been a great year for you and George. While George won the F2 championship and was offered a Formula 1 seat, you finished school. Not knowing what you really wanted to do with your life - after all, you were only 18; how could anyone expect you to make such an important decision? - you took a year off. A year just for you, which you spent traveling with George to watch his Formula 1 races.
It wasn’t his first race, or his second, not even his third or fourth, but still, you found the paddock intimidating. Everything was so big, so hectic, so full, and you just felt a little bit too small, too lost. There were so many cameras, the flashes were too bright, and either everybody ignored you or gave you way too much attention. It didn’t just feel overwhelming, it felt wrong. Not that you would ever say that to George. He was happy, happier than you had ever seen him. Therefore, you tried to seem happy, to seem content, to seem comfortable. But sometimes it was just too much.
Like right now. Hiding behind a motorhome, you were just trying to find a little bit of calm in this chaotic place. The ice cubes in your iced coffee were melting faster than your patience. You knew that you could just go to the Williams hospitality to cool off, but there you always felt watched. Here, on the other side, no soul was nearby to witness your literal meltdown. No camera and most importantly, nobody who could tell George.
Running one hand through your hair while the other held the coffee a little too tightly, leaving dents in the plastic, you were just trying to breath. However, the hot air around you felt like sandpaper in your throat.
„Hey, is everything okay?”
The sudden voice surprised you. You hadn't heard anyone coming, which wasn't difficult given all the noise. Startled, you jumped around, and the condensation-soaked cup slipped from your sweaty hands. It seemed as if in slow motion as the contents spread like a fountain onto the Red Bull shirt and jeans of the man in front of you. Turning redder and redder with every second that passed, you looked up into a pair of beautiful blue eyes. A pair of blue eyes you knew. How could you ever forget them? They were the eyes of your first childhood crush, who was now standing in front of you, drenched in your iced coffee.
Oh hell no. You hadn't just given some random person a coffee shower; no, you’d managed to soak one of the drivers. That would have been the perfect moment for the ground to open up beneath you and swallow you whole.
„Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry”, you blurted out and took a step forward. Your hands were frantically flying up before you stopped yourself. The whole situation was bad enough; there was no need to inappropriately touch Max Verstappen while trying to wipe away the coffee stains - which wouldn't have worked anyway. Instead, you started frantically searching your bag for a tissue.
„I’m so sorry”, you repeated yourself, still hoping that the ground beneath you would open and swallow you.
„Y/N, it’s ok, these things happen”, he interrupted, and you didn't know what surprised you more: that he wasn't angry, or that he knew your name.
Stop, stop, stop! Freezing in mid-movement, you looked at him like a deer in the headlights. Max Verstappen knew your name? That wasn’t on your bingo card.
„Of course I know who you are. We know each other since we were children.”
Too late, you realized that you may have said out loud what you were thinking. If it was possible, you turned even redder. By now you could blend right in with the Ferraris.
„Yeah, but since then, you’ve become an F1 driver.”
„And you are still a little tornado.”
If it were possible to have a heart attack at 18, it would probably have happened right now. Instead, your brain short-circuited. For a brief moment, nothing was in your head, just a gaping void. And then it all came back too quickly, too many thoughts at once, too many suggestions for action. Completely overwhelmed by all the possibilities, your brain opted for the simplest option.
„Sorry again,” the words bubbled out of your mouth as if each one wanted to compete in the Monaco Grand Prix. Then you turned around and ran off as fast as if you, too, were a favorite for victory.
Luck, or whatever you want to call it, really wasn't on your side today. Or some higher power was just laughing up its sleeve. As if you hadn't already run into enough F1 drivers, you crashed into none other than Charles Leclerc during your hasty escape towards the Williams garage. At least you weren't forceful enough to knock both of you to the ground; that was at least something. Nevertheless, you were swaying heavily when you came to a completely abrupt stop. However, Charles had excellent reflexes, as befits someone in his line of work, and managed to steady you by the shoulders before you could topple over. If you had fallen on your bottom in front of him and the entire paddock, you would probably have crawled to the farthest corner of the world and never shown up to a race again.
„Are you okay, Little Russell?” he asked, surprisingly concerned, and you didn't want to imagine how you looked right now. Sweating from the heat and with a bright red face that had nothing to do with the temperature around you. In other words, you were a total mess.
„Um, all good and good luck in qualifying later,” you brushed Charles off before continuing on your way to the Williams garage. However, you didn't get far before your big brother materialized out of nowhere. He took one look at you and immediately knew something was wrong. Furrowing his brows, he glanced over your shoulder to where you had just been talking to Charles. You didn't have to be a mind reader to foresee what was about to happen.
„Was Charles flirting with you?”
You quickly shook your head, feeling your face heat up even more.
„Then why are you so red?”
„The question is, how can it be that the heat doesn't bother you at all?”
[iii] Liam Lawson 2024
„You asshole!”
The words left your mouth before you you even had time to think. You didn't know who was more surprised, you or him. Bewildered, Max Verstappen turned around in the otherwise deserted corridor. When he saw you rushing towards him, his eyes widened.
Good. No one insulted your brother - especially not in an interview in front of cameras - and just got away with it.
Unfortunately, Max recovered far too quickly. When you stopped just a few centimeters from him, an arrogant smile crossed his face. An arrogant smile that you would have happily wiped from his face. Your fist opened and closed indecisively, ready to strike, yet not quite there. Even though the blood was rushing in your ears and making it hard to hear what was going on around you, you stayed grounded.
„What do I owe this pleasure?” Max drawled, and the desire to hit him grew within you. However, you couldn't physically attack the man who had already secured the World Championship with one race left to go. They wouldn't let you get away with that so easily.
„You know exactly why I'm here, asshole,” you bit out, and Max, who never shied away from a fight, returned your combative glare.
„Because of my good looks? Or my irresistible charm?”
„No, because you're a bully, just like George said.”
At the mention of your brother, Max's eyes narrowed.
„He started all this,” he blurted out, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. It wasn't about who started it. It was about who crossed the invisible line, and in your eyes, that was clearly Max.
„Unbelievable, simply unbelievable,” you laughed in disbelief and ran your hand through your hair. „Simply unbelievable. How could I have ever fancied you as a child?”
The last words escaped your mouth unintentionally. Clasping your hand over your mouth, your eyes widened in horror, and for a brief moment, silence reigned. If it had been up to you, this silence could have lasted forever. Better an awkward silence than having to watch Max react to this unwanted confession, which you didn't know where it had suddenly come from.
Unfortunately, Max broke the silence much faster than you had hoped.
„Some things never change,” he said, looking down at you with an arrogant smile, prolonging the pause to savor the sight of you squirming. „You're still a little tornado.”
This sentence brought back memories you didn't want to think about, like the coffee accident. Fighting the rising blush, you tried to keep a calm head. You came here with a goal, and that wasn't it, whatever this was.
„You crossed the line with your comments about George; you need to apologize,” you tried again to steer the conversation in the direction you wanted.
But Max was having none of it. He took a step toward you, and in response, you stepped back. This worked well until your back hit the wall. Max stopped so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating from him. Catching your gaze with his, his lips slowly curled upward.
„Maybe I like pushing boundaries.”
What the fuck? You didn't need a mirror to know you were blushing. What the hell was going on? Were you even still talking about the fight? And the worst part of it all? You couldn't look away. His incredibly blue eyes held you captive. That this was going to end badly should have been clear to everyone involved by now. But the way Max looked at you, he either was oblivious or simply didn’t care. You'd guess the latter, knowing him.
Your last brain cell kicked in, screaming at you that this was completely wrong. With a lunge, you wanted to push Max away. But before your hands could make contact with his chest, he caught them. Instead of letting go of both your wrists, he used your momentum to pull you closer to him.
When you were standing chest to chest, your breath caught in your throat. If your teenage self could see you now, it would go crazy. You were so close that you could feel his breath on your face. All you had to do was lift your chin a little, and your lips would touch.
Breathlessly, you waited for Max to close the small distance between you and kiss you, but he made no move. The hungry look in his eyes told you that he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. However, he didn’t and it took you a moment to realize why.
He had set the course, but he gave you the opportunity to back out. Because you had been so angry with him until just now, and you were still George's sister.
Your brother had always been there for you, and this could only be described as betrayal. You wouldn't do that to George.
„I can't do this,” your voice was barely more than a whisper. But you didn't have to raise your voice for Max to hear you. Letting go of you as if he'd been burned, he took a few steps back. Turning his back on you, he ran his hand through his hair. Then he left. You watched him, stunned, as he walked to the end of the corridor. There, he paused briefly and gave you one last look.
„When you realize your brother isn't the hero you think he is, you know where to find me.”
The end of the season was celebrated with a rooftop party above Abu Dhabi. Max had only finished sixth in the race. But since the Qatar Grand Prix it was clear that he had won his fourth world championship. George, on the other hand, had finished the race one place ahead of Max.
From your place at the glass railing, with the lights of Abu Dhabi behind you and the party in front, you could see how satisfied this made your brother. He had his arm around Carmen's shoulder as the pair chatted with Alex and Lily. These were by far two of your favorite couples in Formula 1, and you were happy that your brother and his best friend had found such great girlfriends.
„Y/N Russell?”
You had been so busy watching the party that you hadn't noticed a certain New Zealand driver sneak up on you.
„That's me, and you're Liam Lawson,” you stated before taking a sip of your cocktail. „I'm sorry about your DNF today. But next year you'll be driving for Red Bull, which is incredible.”
The two of you quickly fell into a pleasant conversation. You talked about the coming year and what Liam hoped to achieve with the second Red Bull seat. You also shared things about your homes in New Zealand and Great Britain and what you missed most while traveling. Talking to Liam was easy. No pitfalls, no double meanings. He made you laugh, and quickly the party around you became background noise.
Until you felt a burning gaze on your skin, bringing you back to the here and now. You didn't have to look around to know whose eyes were on you, making you feel like you were on fire. But because you had a penchant for self-destruction, you looked anyway. Across the party, your eyes met, and you felt yourself transported back to the narrow corridor. You could feel the heat rising in your face and hoped it was too dark to see from the other side of the roof. But the way his lips curled arrogantly showed that he knew the effect he had on you. Quickly averting your gaze, you tried in vain to concentrate on the story Liam was telling.
Later, as Carmen, George, and you sat in the taxi on the way back to the hotel, you could still feel Max's stare lingering on you. Your gaze was fixed on the passing lights, but anyone who knew you a little bit would have noticed that you were off track. Unfortunately, George and Carmen didn't just know you a little bit, they knew you very well.
„So, Lawson,” George began, earning a reproachful look from Carmen. He raised his hands defensively. „Hey, I'm just asking!”
„It's okay,” you chimed in. „He was nice, but nothing more.”
„Are you sure he wasn't flirting with you?”
„George!” Carmen chided him, but neither of you was paying attention.
„Totally sure.”
[iiii] Lando Norris 2025
The winter break had given you plenty of time to think about what had happened in Abu Dhabi and what you truly wanted. You hadn't come to a decision about everything. For example, you still didn't know what you really wanted to do with your life, despite having finished your bachelor's degree and working on your master's. However, you knew you'd been wrong in Abu Dhabi. It always takes two to have an argument, and George hadn't been as innocent as you’d thought. Besides, some would probably say that you reacted a bit too hastily back then. In any case, you owed Max Verstappen an apology. You were an adult, after all.
And it would happen in Melbourne, at the season opener. Even if you'd managed to avoid it on Thursday and Friday, you were going to apologize professionally today, before qualifying.
What could possibly happen? You'd made a fool of yourself in front of him more than once, spilling coffee on him and yelling at him. If you'd managed all that without dying of a heart attack from embarrassment, you'd be able to apologize to him too.
That's what you tried to tell yourself as you nervously hovered around the Red Bull garage. You'd been there for 30 minutes, you'd circled it multiple times, pacing back and forth near the entrance. But you hadn't had the courage to go and see if Max was there. It was one thing to embarrass yourself in front of Max - you'd become an expert at that by now - but it was another entirely to embarrass yourself in front of the entire Red Bull garage.
The decision was made for you, however, when an all-too-familiar voice sounded behind you.
„Half the garage is in an uproar because George Russell's sister is lurking around here. Are you here to spy on us or are you here for Lawson?”
As quickly as you'd ever done anything before in your life, you spun around on the spot, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Max Verstappen. Throughout the winter break, you tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach when you thought about the Dutchman. But now that you were standing in front of him under the Australian sun, there was no denying it anymore. Your crush was back and worse than ever.
„Max,” you breathed, clenching your sweaty hands.
„You look good,” you said, which was probably the exaggeration of the century. If possible, he had only become more attractive during the winter break, which clearly got you into deep trouble.
„You didn't come here to tell me that,” he stated dryly, and where he was right, he was right.
„I'm here to apologize for Abu Dhabi.” Instead of beating around the bush, you got straight to the point. „I shouldn't have yelled at you or called you an asshole and a bully; I'm sorry.”
„No, you really shouldn't have,” Max replied seriously, instead of accepting your apology. But instead of responding with something that would have gotten you deeper into trouble, you just closed your eyes.
„But I know how you can make it up to me.”
How you can make it up to him? Was he serious?
„I already apologized,” you blurted out before you could think, something that, unfortunately, happened far too often when he was around.
„Your apology is all well and good, but there's a way to show me that you really mean it.”
„And that would be?”
„You're going on a date with me.”
It was Sunday evening when you stood in front of the mirror, wondering what to wear for your date with none other than Max Verstappen, who had just finished second in the Australian Grand Prix. One place ahead of George. Of course, you had already celebrated George's podium finish.
You had just chosen an elegant, yet simple black dress when there was a knock at your hotel door. You didn't have to guess twice who was there.
„You're going out again?” your big brother asked as he caught a glimpse of you. „I saw you talking to Lando earlier; you seemed happy. Did he ask you out?”
There was one thing George was a master at, and that was jumping to conclusions. If it were an Olympic discipline, he would have won gold long ago. So far, he had never been right, and considering what you really had planned tonight, you hoped it wouldn’t change anytime soon.
„He invited me to his victory party - you too, by the way. But tonight, I'm meeting an old friend tonight who's also in Melbourne.”
You turned back to the mirror to choose the right shoes to go with your dress. After all, you had no time to waste and certainly wouldn't let George distract you.
„Do I know this friend?” George asked, and you just gave him an annoyed look through the mirror.
„Don't make me get Carmen,” you warned, before choosing your red heels.
„Okay, then don't tell me. But no matter what, you can always call me and I'll pick you up.”
Turning away from the mirror, you approached your big brother and pulled him into a quick hug.
„I know, and I'll always be grateful for that. But that really won't be necessary tonight.”
The date went perfectly; you didn't know what you expected from Max, but certainly not that. First, he'd taken you to a chic but not too pretentious restaurant that served authentic Australian cuisine. Sitting opposite each other, illuminated by candlelight, you talked about your studies, your goals, your dreams. Compared to what he and George had achieved, your life, your plans, often seemed too mundane. But that evening, Max made you feel that what you were doing - what you wanted - truly mattered. He listened intently, asked in-depth questions, and laughed at your lame anecdotes as if they were the best thing he'd ever heard. There in the restaurant, you didn't just feel seen, you felt understood. You weren't just an appendage to someone else, your job wasn't just to support and cheer someone on. You were your own person. A feeling you hadn't felt in ages. The blame for this wasn't on George or your family, who had always encouraged and supported you to follow your own path, but on yourself. Because you had pushed yourself into this corner, into this narrative, and only when you sat across from Max did you realize what you'd been missing.
After dinner, you went to a wine bar, where you sampled the local wines. You quickly realized that neither of you knew much about wine.
And before you knew it, you were strolling barefoot along the beach. Max's warm hand cupped yours while you held your shoes in the other.
„The starry sky is different here than at home,” you noted, your face turned up to the sky.
„It's so beautiful,” you murmured, feeling the wine gently vibrating in your bloodstream.
„Really beautiful.”
Your eyes found Max, and instead of looking up at the sky, his gaze was fixed on you. Fighting the butterflies in your stomach, you playfully rolled your eyes.
„You're so cliché.”
„But you like it.”
Of course you liked it, not that you'd admit it so easily. Even though you would never have guessed Max to be the type to be so cliché.
„So, that crush you mentioned in Abu Dhabi. Tell me about it,” Max asked after you'd walked a few steps. You were glad it was dark so he couldn't see the blush creeping up your face.
„To be honest, there's not much to tell about it. I was 12 or so and thought you were so incredibly cute. It wasn't subtle at all. George and Alex knew about it and made fun of it all the time. I even wrote you a love poem once, but luckily George stopped me and confiscated it before I could recite it to you.”
You'd been so angry with your big brother back then. Now the memory brought a broad smile to your lips. Max, next to you, also laughed softly.
„Okay, two questions: do you still think I'm so incredibly cute, and what happened to the poem?”
„Hmm,” you pretended to think about it, but there wasn't much to think about. „I find you more attractive than cute these days. And about the poem, I have no idea what happened to it; you'd have to ask George.”
You wouldn't put it past your brother to have kept the poem and spit it out somewhere in the depths of his childhood bedroom.
„But enough about me, when did you realize you liked me?”
You looked at Max curiously from the side, expecting him to get at least a little nervous. But this was Max Verstappen, he felt most comfortable at 300 km/h. He calmly returned your gaze with a relaxed smile.
„Remember when you spilled coffee on me in Japan in 2019?”
Oh, how could you forget? But before you could answer, Max continued.
„I recognized you immediately, of course, but I was completely taken aback by how beautiful you had become. When I returned to the garage, drenched in coffee, everyone asked me what had happened, but meeting you simply left me speechless. When I then DNFed in the first corner, I had to listen for months that it only took one pretty woman to throw me off my game. And then came Abu Dhabi. I've never experienced anything hotter than when you shouted at me. You insulted me, and I was simply blown away.”
„So that's the way to your heart, insults?” you asked amusedly, stopping to turn fully to him.
„If I insulted you right now, would you kiss me?”
You didn't know where you got the courage from; you weren't usually this brave. But with Max, everything felt natural.
„You don't even have to insult me for that,” before you could react, Max closed the distance between you, and his lips met yours. It was like coming home.
[iiiii] Oscar Pistari 2025
The date in Melbourne was followed by many late-night phone calls, secret meetings in the Paddock and Monaco, and nights in hotel rooms where sweet nothings were whispered against each other's lips before one of you snuck out early the next morning.
„I don't want to keep us a secret anymore. I'm sick of the sneaking around and the stolen kisses,” Max confided in you in Canada, as you stood in a deserted hallway near the Media Pen.
„What are we, anyway?” you asked, instead of answering him.
You had never given a name to whatever was going on between you. You had just slipped into it because it felt right and had never made the effort to label it. You hadn't even discussed whether you were exclusive, even though you strongly suspected you were.
„It's pretty obvious that I only have eyes for you. That's why I was hoping you were my girlfriend.”
His words brought a stupid smile to your lips.
„I would love to be your girlfriend. But I'd like to keep it to ourselves for a little while longer.”
Before Max could open his mouth to protest, you continued.
„I love you so much, but I see what the press and fans do to WAGs and I think I'm not ready for that yet.”
Max looked at you, open-mouthed, and you couldn't help but wonder if you had said something wrong. That he was disappointed that you didn't want to announce your relationship publicly.
„You love me?” Max asked hoarsely and only then did it dawn on you what had left him speechless. You nodded shyly and the next moment, the ground disappeared beneath your feet and Max spun you around in a circle before pulling you into a movie-worthy kiss.
„I love you too, Liefje. And I'd love nothing more than to shout from the rooftops that you love me. But if you want to keep it private, we'll keep it private. You know we can't keep it a secret from George forever.”
That was what had been weighing on you for the past few months. As much as you saw the world through rose-colored glasses thanks to Max, you couldn't help feeling bad about hiding something so big from George.
„I know, oh man, I know.”
You ran your hand through your hair, overwhelmed.
„I just don't want to distract him from the race. He's having such a good season right now, and his contract for 2026 is still pending. If I tell him now and he messes up the race, it's my fault.”
Without realizing, you had started pacing back and forth in front of Max.
„Hey, hey, hey,” Max reassuringly pulled you into a tight hug. „If George messes up the race, it's his fault or the car's, and never yours. But if you prefer, we can wait until the summer break to tell him. We have to do it then, at the latest.”
„Thank you, thank you for being there for me,” you mumbled against his team shirt, and you meant every word.
„Always for you,” Max said – and he had proven it over the past few months.
„What did I do to deserve you?”
Before Max could even think about answering this extremely rhetorical question, you kissed him.
You didn't know how long you kissed Max, and you didn't hear anyone approaching, until an all-too-familiar voice interrupted you.
„I really don't want to disturb you, but Y/N, George is looking for you and I'm not sure if you want him to see this,” Oscar Piastri mumbled, avoiding your gaze uncomfortably.
„I'll leave you to it then,” Oscar said awkwardly, half-raising his hand as if to wave, before turning away at the last second.
You and Max stared at each other silently. While your face reflected horror, Max seemed to find the whole situation merely amusing. Of course, that was typical of him.
„Oscar, wait!”
Breaking away from Max's embrace, you hurried after the Australian. He did you a favor and slowed down so you could catch up with him.
„Osc, please don't tell George,” you begged the driver you were best friends with out of everyone on the grid.
The friendship began when Oscar was new to Formula 1, and both you and his girlfriend, Lily, were working on your respective bachelor's theses. At some point, you started hiding together in unused meeting rooms to make the most of the time when the guys were busy with something other than the actual race. Outsiders, meaning everyone except you and Lily, were only allowed inside in exchange for coffee, and Oscar was probably your most diligent coffee supplier.
„I won't tell him anything. I'll pretend I never saw it, and if it ever comes up, I'll try to deny everything. If George finds out I was in on it, he'll kill me.”
„Actually, you're not just in on it. With your date suggestions for Melbourne, you helped shape mine and Max’s first date.”
Oscar's face betrayed no emotion but by now you knew him well enough to recognize that this was always the case when he was stressed.
„Not a word to George,” he managed to force out, and you nodded.
„Not a word to George.”
That seemed to seal the deal. You walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Just before the exit, Oscar took off his sweater, and when you stepped outside, he hadn’t yet had a chance to fix his hair.
George, who was talking to Alex, spotted you in an instant. One look at you and Oscar was enough for your brother to abruptly end his conversation and rush over. Just as his eyes flickered back and forth between you and Oscar, whom you’d just bid farewell to with a nod, George once again jumped to the wrong conclusion. Something completely new.
„Are you serious?” George hissed at you instead of greeting you, and you raised your eyebrows in surprise and confusion.
„Serious about what, George?”
„What on earth possessed you to have an affair with Piastri? You and Lily are friends? Why do you want to be the other woman in the next F1 cheating scandal?” George fumed, not even letting you get a word in edgewise. This was new even for him. „Or is it some kind of three-way thing?”
The moment the words left George's mouth, he twisted his face as if he regretted it.
„Oh my God,” you gasped, mortified.
If that weren't a terrible insinuation, you almost found it funny. You were sure Max would find it hilarious if you told him George thought you were in a three-way relationship with Lily and Oscar.
„Who's having a three-way?” Alex butted in to make matters worse, and the whole thing was slowly turning into a train wreck. An absolute catastrophe.
„No one's having a threesome,” you replied sharply, while at the same time George said, „Lily, Oscar, and Y/N.”
Alex's expression faltered in surprise.
„Wow, who would have thought? Little Russell, I didn't know you were so wild.”
He tried to pat you on the shoulder, but you, annoyed, pushed his hand away.
„I'm not having an affair with Oscar, nor with Lily and Oscar,” you spat through gritted teeth. „I don't know why you keep jumping to these wild assumptions, but it has to stop.”
„His hair was all messy, your lips were red, and you exchanged such a secretive look,” your brother tried to defend himself. „Not to mention that you've been acting too weird all season, like you're hiding something.”
Well, that last part was actually true, not that you'd admit it out loud.
„Oscar's hair was messy because he'd taken off his sweater a few seconds before, and red lips can have so many reasons besides kissing. Stop making such ridiculous assumptions.”
At least George had the decency to look down, a little ashamed.
„I'm sorry, you're right, I went too far.”
[I] Max Verstappen
The sun was shining, the sea was roaring in the distance. George, Carmen, and you could just as well have been in a perfume or watch advertisement as you sat on the terrace of a chic restaurant for an early lunch, all three dressed in light linen clothes.
You had just returned from Hungary, where George had taken third place, and now the summer break was upon you. As you had promised Max, you would now tell George the truth about what you had been up to for the past few months.
You had strategically chosen today's meal for this. For one thing, you were in public, and even though you were in Monaco, you couldn't shake off the curious glances. So George would know better than to make a scene. Plus, Carmen was there; you could rely on her. She would remind George that the most important thing was still that you were happy. And you had never been happier than with Max. They would understand, or so you tried to tell yourself as you nervously played with your ring.
“I have to tell you something.”
You blurted it out before the waiter had even brought your drinks. You'd actually planned to bring it up over dessert, when George was already feeling a false sense of security, but you couldn't stand it another second.
“Are you pregnant?”
George looked at you in horror, and with equal horror, you met his gaze. For a moment, you just looked at each other, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He thought you were pregnant? Perfect, George. Absolutely perfect. It was impressive, once again, how quickly George could jump to the wrong conclusion.
“Of course she's not pregnant, otherwise she wouldn't have ordered an Aperol Spritz,” Carmen chimed in, slightly annoyed, before giving you an encouraging nod.
“I have a boyfriend,” you announced, still nervously fiddling with your ring.
“Oh my God, even worse,” George whispered under his breath, which earned him another sharp and equally bewildered look from both Carmen and you.
“Who is it?” Carmen, who had fallen into the role of the sensible one at the table, asked calmly.
“Please tell me it's not a driver,” George interjected, who was close to a nervous breakdown. And the realization was yet to come.
“About that-“
“Oh Blimey, who is it?”
An awkward silence fell, during which you looked back and forth between Carmen and George. While George waited, horrified and confused, for an answer, Carmen slowly seemed to realize who you might be involved with.
“No, you didn’t?” she breathed, and you just nodded.
“I'm with Max.”
The sound of the sea seemed to vanish. Even the gulls went quiet for a moment. Now it was out. And judging by the noises George was making - which reminded you of a dying animal - you weren't out of the woods yet. But before he could get upset and say something he'd later regret, Carmen put a hand on his arm.
“Does he make you happy?” she asked the only question that really mattered.
“Incredibly happy - so happy I can't put it into words,” you answered honestly, with that gentle smile on your lips that only people in love have.
“That's the most important thing. If you're happy, we are too. Aren't we, George?”
For the last part, Carmen not-so-subtly nudged your brother, who looked like someone had just run over his favorite dog. But he didn't yell or blame you, so things were going pretty well, right?
“Since when?”
George broke his silence, demanding the answer you had really hoped you wouldn't have to give today. It was one thing to tell your brother you loved his biggest rival - the man he traded barbs and insults with live on camera. It was quite another to have to reveal to him that it had been going on for more than five months and that you had been acting behind his back.
“Since Melbourne - that’s where we had our first date.”
“Wow, that's just wow,” George laughed in disbelief, but it wasn't a friendly laugh.
“I didn’t want to distract you from your racing.”
“So you chose to lie to me?”
“I never lied, I just didn't tell you everything. That's a big difference.”
You could feel your voice rising and your hands clenching into fists. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself down. You had known George wouldn't take it well, but this conversation still made you so angry. And Carmen, unlike George, seemed to notice.
“Now both of you take a big drink of water and breathe deeply,” she commanded in a voice that brooked no argument. So you both did exactly as you were told. „And then calm down. The most important thing is that Y/N is happy, and because that's the case, you'll learn to accept it. Let's start right away by inviting Max to brunch at our apartment tomorrow.”
George tried to open his mouth, but Carmen just shook her head curtly.
„No objection.“
You had never been so nervous in your life. And no matter how well the brunch went - and it did really go well - the nervousness didn't subside. Not only did Max arrive on time - that was the absolute bare minimum - he was also wearing something other than his team shirt today, and he even brought Carmen a gift.
During the meal, everyone behaved civilly; there were no insults. When asked about your future plans together, Max scored major points with George and Carmen by emphasizing that you would definitely not move in together until you had completed your master's degree. Because it was clear to everyone involved that once you had an official residence in Monaco, you would never see the inside of a lecture hall again, especially not one in Oxford. That meant bye-bye master's degree, and neither Max, George, nor Carmen would allow that. Everything that happened after this question at brunch was just smooth sailing.
Later, as you and Max stood on the balcony of George's apartment, you couldn't help but smile. This had gone so much better than expected. There hadn't been any arguments, and towards the end, Max and George had even laughed out loud.
“You know, you could have shown up here in your team shirt; you didn't have to change into different clothes just for me,” you told him, your head resting on his shoulder while you watched the sun reflecting on the waves in the distance. The horizon was painted in gold - the same kind of gold you felt glowing in your chest.
“I wanted to make a good impression,” he explained quietly, his hand tracing circles on your back. A small and, for some, insignificant gesture. But not for you, never for you.
“You did,” you said with a gentle smile, looking up into his incredibly blue eyes, into which you could stare for hours. “But please never think you have to change for me. I fell in love with you because of who you are. I love you because your only interest is racing, and you couldn't care less about the latest fashions. I don't love you despite your lack of fashion sense, but because of your lack of fashion sense.”
Your confession brought a look to Max's eyes that made you lose yourself. That look told you more than words ever could — that he would do anything to hold you forever. If you could freeze a moment, this would probably be it, here in the sun in the arms of Max. It wasn't weird baring your soul to him; it was the only thing that felt right.
“You and racing, those are my only interests,” Max corrected before gently cupping your chin, lifting your head so your lips could meet.
The heat hung heavy over Monza. The fans were loud, the engines even louder. It was the first Grand Prix you’d attended since the summer break. Unfortunately, you missed Zandvoort, but nobody thought anything of it. To the public, you were still just George Russell's little sister, not Max Verstappen's girlfriend.
You watched from the Mercedes garage, dressed in dark blue - a color that matched Red Bull too, though only Carmen knew why. Your beloved Mercedes cap was perched on your head, the sight of which would surely make Max grimace. But Max wasn't here; he was leading the race by a huge margin.
He'd struggled with the car all season and had already written off his chances of becoming world champion. Could this perhaps be his comeback? You couldn't keep still. You nervously wrung your hands while Max showed lap after lap why he was the best driver on the entire grid.
Only when he crossed the finish line did you dare to breathe a sigh of relief. He had done it, he had really done it. You felt like you were walking on air. Damn your secrecy, you wanted to congratulate him, right now.
Wordlessly handing the headset to Carmen, you hurried out of the Mercedes garage and straight into the arms of a Red Bull employee.
“He asked for you,” she announced instead of a greeting. “He’d be very happy if you waited for him at Parc Fermé.”
Everyone had seen the images of drivers jumping out of their cars after a victory in Parc Fermé and running to their girlfriends behind the barrier. You had seen George and Carmen kissing there, but never thought that you’d ever stand there yourself. But you were ready, ready to show the world who you loved.
The Red Bull team willingly made way for you, as if they all knew how important you were to Max. You'd barely reached the front of the barrier, surrounded by the cheering Red Bull team, when Max arrived.
Your eyes met immediately as Max got out of the car, as if he'd been looking for you. A subtle nod from you was enough, and then he hurried over to you. On the way, he took off his helmet, and as soon as he reached you, he pulled you into a passionate kiss that made you forget the cameras and everyone around you. For a second, everything stopped - the crowd, the noise, the world itself. It was just him. And you. And the smell of gasoline and sweat and victory.
Only when your lungs were screaming for air did you separate, and you looked at each other, breathless, for a moment before Max reached for your Mercedes cap and pulled it off your head. The cap disappeared into his suit, swallowed by fireproof fabric - loyalty quietly traded for love. Then, as if he’d conjured it out of the roar of the crowd, a Red Bull cap appeared in his hands - blue, bright, and burning like the moment itself. He turned it once, the light catching on the stitched number 1, before lowering it onto your head. It wasn’t just a gesture. It was a claim, a promise - and a declaration to the entire world.
