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Little Charles Leclerc is in love.
This isn’t a guess. It’s a full-on, undeniable, observable fact. A universal truth known, at this point, to everyone except Charles himself.
Pierre was the first to notice.---
Or, Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen being two loving mess.Bookmarked by Basima
04 Oct 2025
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Charlie Leclerc is built to win—and survive.
Secrets, scars, and past traumas linger beneath the surface.Max Verstappen is the rival who falls in love with the wreckage and stays.
He isn't supposed to be the constant.First there is rivalry. Then love. A little boy.
And a life Max would burn the world to protect.They're building a whole universe—just the three of them.
Series
- Part 1 of Ciao, Amore
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“Do you think my ass looks good in this one?”
“Charles, I swear to God, if you ask me that one more time I will throw you off this boat.”
OR: Charles finds his underwear beneath his best friend's pillow. Everything unfolds exactly the way you'd expect.
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Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen are at the top of their games, known across the world and winners in their own rights. But that doesn't mean that either of them is satisfied with where their lives have brought them.
What's the point in all of this success if you have no one else to share it with?
OR: Max is a driver and Charles is an actor and their lives have always been intertwined.
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“Wow, what a question to end with!” Charles chuckles, pondering his answer. “I think all the drivers here are attractive in their own ways.”
“Are you aware that you are the most popular answer so far?”
“Me? Well I’m very flattered.” Charles beams at the reporter, his eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun.
“But if you had to pick someone…” the reporter gently prompts.
Charles hums. “Well since you asked, I will say Max Verstappen.”
Charles names Max as the most attractive driver on the grid. Max spirals.
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Mint Chip Ice Cream (And Other Flavors) by LestappenForever for thearchercore
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
30 Mar 2024
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“I’d like three scoops of vanilla ice cream, please.”
Charles doesn’t even stop what he’s doing. Doesn’t even look at him. “We’re all out of vanilla.”
Max stares. At Charles, then at the almost full tub of vanilla ice cream, with its little sign labeling it as vanilla sticking out of the fluffy ice cream.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, we are.”
“Charles, I can see the vanilla ice cream. It’s right there,” Max insists, pointing at the flavor through the display glass. As if Charles isn’t completely aware of its existence, as if he’s not just being a little shit and punishing Max for something that isn’t even remotely his fault.
Charles pauses in his bustling to look at Max. Then, he follows the length of Max’s arm to where his finger is pointing directly at the vanilla. His gaze returns to Max’s eyes as he says, deadpan: “That is only a display ice cream.”
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OR: Charles owns an ice cream shop in Milan, Max is an F1 driver. Their paths cross, and Max finds himself slightly obsessed with more than just the heavenly vanilla ice cream Charles sells.
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And That's How I Foksmashed Dad's Championship Trophy by PrincessElectra for Coconutshygame
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
25 Dec 2022
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All of that would have been forgivable if not for the Green-Eyed Monster’s complete disregard for the pre-contracted occupation rights of Max’s lap. Such rights had long been pre-determined and belonged to Sassy (and occasionally to Jimmy, she admitted begrudgingly). However, no amount of quiet hisses and vicious glares seemed to penetrate the creature’s thick skull, and he would greedily occupy Max’s thigh for more than 95% of any given afternoon. Sometimes with his head, sometimes with his feet, and a few times he even straddled his entire body over Max; the latter could not have been comfortable for Max, as the Green-Eyed Monster was enormously overweight compared to Sassy.
(Jimmy had insisted that it was not nice to shame another living creature about their weight, but she was not wrong. With her compact size and considerably more reasonable mass, Sassy was confident that she was much more comfortable for Max to have on his lap than that horrendously oversized creature.)
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Alex leans forward suddenly. “You guys really don’t remember?”
Charles steals his watermelon juice, takes a sip and subsequently drops his head into his hands, the heel of his palm digging into his eyes.
“Remember what?” He asks, wondering if he really wants to know.
“You guys got married last night.”
Charles almost cracks a smile. “Are you ashamed of it?”
“Of what?”
“This,” Charles gestures between himself and Max vaguely, but for a split second, even he doesn’t know what he means. There is no this, there is no them. “Our marriage.”
Or, Max and Charles learn to fall in love in reverse.
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And they have a healthy sex life. They have a great sex life, based on the way their friends judge them for being unable to keep their hands off each other, or the times they’ve been walked in on, or the way Max had to put a firm ban on sex during race weekends when Charles had been uncomfortable in the car one too many times.
He just wants more. He wants so much more, all the time, he wants to sleep with Max’s dick inside him and he wants to have dinner while Max is kneeling and slowly sucking his cock, he wants to have a plug left in his ass so he’s ready for Max at any time and he wants to fill Max with so much cum it leaks out of him.
He’s ravenous, hungry, a black hole of want, and he knows none of that is reasonable but he wants it anyway.
Begrudgingly, he settles for sex when they can manage it, but right now they could manage it a whole lot more.
If Max would stop fucking streaming.
OR: Max streams too much. Charles (attempts to) seduce Max into getting his way.
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Max is a race car driver. Charles is a movie star. They really shouldn't work, but they do.
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Max is an embarrassing amount of gin and tonics into the night when Lando shouts very loudly into his ear.
“Does Charles pay for everything for you?”
“What?” Max shouts back.
“I mean like– Seems like he’s always paying for you, mate,” Lando says. Holds both hands up in the air and dubiously glances to the side. “Not that I’m judging or anything.”
“He doesn’t pay for everything,” Max lamely insists.
Bookmarked by Basima
26 Sep 2025
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“Well... whip it out, Verstappen. Let’s go,” Charles said, smirking at him.
Max hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his stretchy shorts and pushed them to the floor, taking his boxers with them. He could feel Charles’ eyes burning into his skin like somebody was holding a lighter to his flesh and willed himself not to blush.
This was fine; everything was fine.
He had his cock out on a Wednesday night in Singapore, but everything was fine.
OR: After a hook-up gone wrong, Charles asks Max to critique his blow-job skills. Neither of them expected to fall in love on their knees, but reality can be... hard to swallow. (The friends with benefits to lovers fic that has haunted me for months.)
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“Charles,” Max said, his tone soft again and breaking Charles of his thoughts. “Please just ask me for whatever you want to ask me. You don’t have to keep explaining yourself.”
Charles laughed again, his cheeks bright red.
“Could I... sit on your cock for a little bit?”
- Words:
- 87,460
- Works:
- 7
- Bookmarks:
- 697
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The thing with Charles is: there is no one like him. Thank God.
5 times a baby alpha shot his shot with Charles + 1 time it landed
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They say some things never change. But after years of running, Max and Charles are about to learn just how much it hurts when the past catches up fast.
OR: Charles has a secret baby. Max has a temper. There are too many broken promises, too many 'what ifs,' and maybe… not enough time.
Can two shattered hearts find their way back, before the final lap?
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Rapid fire thoughts in French pour into his head, each more hysterical sounding than the last. He recognizes “merde”, “putain”, and “pensée” and that’s it. Unhelpful.
“Charles,” he murmurs, slightly apologetic, “French.”
Charles’ eyes get even bigger, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. He makes a noise that if Max were a slightly less merciful person he would call a squeak. Watching him make the absolutely unhinged connection in real time is fascinating. Then carefully, in tentative English, You are hearing my thoughts?
Miserable, Max nods. Then shrugs. Fuck.
“Max,” Charles practically hisses, his grip on Max’s hand going tighter. The pinprick of his nails feels like the only thing connecting Max to the earth. “What the fuck?”
*
Or, the year Max turns thirty, he spends about a month mid-season being able to read minds via physical touch. Charles is there too.
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Charles is kind of losing his mind, kind of overwhelmed. He's being blackmailed, and he doesn't even have a world drivers championship trophy, and Max is out here doing origami all of a sudden.
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all this happened, more or less by multi21 for euphrasiefauchelevent
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
11 Mar 2023
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alix @alpinealix • 8 January
winter break sucks so here is a thread of reasons why i think @Charles_Leclerc is @escalierdesfleurs . for legal reasons this is only a joke if i’m wrong.
10 replies | 72 retweets | 984 likes
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LeUpdates @clupdates
Anyone else a little worried about Charles? He hasn’t posted anywhere in over a week and we all know how chronically online he is.
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Piarles4ever @delulufangirl replying to @clupdates
something tells me it has to do with p*erre 🔪 (never speaking his name again like he's voldemort)
♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ﾟ.
charles_leclerc ✓ added to their story
[Video description: Charles sits at his piano, back to the camera as he plays drawn out notes across the keys. He sings over the slow melody, vocals raw and emotional as he belts “don’t say that it’s over when it’s barely started.” In the center of the video is black text: ‘false start (unreleased track)’]---
OR:
charles tries to heal from a situationship gone bad, and max is the perfect remedy -
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Max doesn’t realize Charles is already in love with him.
(feat. oblivious max, feral charles, courtship rituals)