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George hadn’t seen the bullet itself, only the reaction it had caused. Max’s shocked, pained gasp, the jolt that had wracked through his body as the strength of the impact had forced him backwards, the blood that had instantly started seeping at his chest, barely visible through the dark fabric of his race suit yet so jarring as it marred the gold of the trophy he held in dark splatters.
Max had disappeared behind the podium, his body collapsing, tearing through the backdrop. One moment he’d been there, solid, beaming, and the next, he was gone, the only traces of him the blood he’d left behind.
Distantly, George could remember the moment as the last time he’d seen the man in person. There was nothing more to it: after the fateful blow, Max Verstappen had vanished off the face of the earth.
Or: three years, three championship wins after Max Verstappen’s unfortunate passing, George Russell learns things might not be as he’d thought they were, as Max might be well and alive out there. He embarks on a quest for truth, and purpose, chasing something -someone- he isn’t sure he’ll find.
Bookmarked by fiviteze
21 Mar 2026
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To the world, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc were destiny’s rivals. Two prodigies colliding at two hundred miles per hour.
To Max, Charles was something more dangerous: he was the only person who made the noise stop.
From the bruising days of karting to the glitz of Formula 1, Max learned to translate Charles’s hatred into attention, and eventually, his friendship into hope. He mistook the nights spent talking until dawn and the casual, tactile warmth of his best friend for a promise of something more. He thought they were inevitable.
He was wrong.
Bookmarked by fiviteze
17 Mar 2026
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The 2015 F1 Season: As Told From Carlos' Perspective In Infrequent Instalments.
In which the FIA Formula 1 Grid Pack is not what it's cracked up to be, and Max Verstappen is dealing with mate withdrawal.
Series
- Part 2 of Well Bitten; Well Loved
Bookmarked by fiviteze
16 Mar 2026
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The rash is there during the first race weekend.
It’s there when they run into each other while getting to the paddock, so visible under the collar of Max’s Red Bull polo, despite his attempt at pulling the fabric as high as it can go.
It’s there during qualifying, when Max finishes first and waves at the crowd, grinning bright. It can be seen peeking out on the only visible strip of skin under his helmet.
It’s there when they cross paths later between garages, just before the race, and Max doesn’t even look his way, doesn’t spare a glance. He’s too busy scratching at his throat absently, obviously focused on the upcoming race. His nails are digging ridges in the dry skin. It won't be long before he draws blood.
Or: Max Verstappen has never really shown his skin any care, until George Russell takes it upon himself to fix it for him.
Bookmarked by fiviteze
16 Mar 2026
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Monaco belongs to Charles.
This is his home race, his people. Even on pole, Max feels almost claustrophobic surrounded by a devotion not meant for him; a devotion that he could never give.
Max tells himself it doesn't matter anymore, that whatever they had is gone. Still, the ache lingers, blooming behind his ribs whenever he catches a flash of red. He clings to control because it's the only thing keeping him steady. If he can just win this race, maybe he won't have to look too closely at what he lost.
Monaco, though...
Monaco doesn't let him forget. Monaco takes, and it keeps asking Max for a price he can't pay. Not today, and definitely not tomorrow.
If only he could make it to tomorrow.
Bookmarked by fiviteze
16 Mar 2026