1 - 20 of 65 Works by MurmursInTheNight
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“Will you tell your fucking boyfriend to back off into turn 6!”
“Will you tell your ‘best friend’…” The air quotes Max made with his fingers were just adding even more insult to the situation. “… that he needs to find a better fucking racing line into turn 6, and then he won’t have to make illegal defensive moves.”
For a moment, Charles was stunned into silence, looking between the two of them. Max and Pierre had never been the best of friends, he’d admit, long before he and Max were ever dating. When Charles had first told Pierre about Max, he hadn’t been best pleased. Understatement. He seemed to remember that ‘really, Max Verstappen?! Of all fucking people?!’ was shouted at him about twenty times in so many minutes. It wasn’t even that they actively disliked each other, it’s just their personalities were chalk and cheese. Charles was that perfect middle ground that meant it was easy for him to love them both.
He was under absolutely no illusions though, they’d never love each other.
Max and Pierre are consistently fighting on track. Trouble is, they're consistently fighting in the paddock too. Charles, long suffering best friend and boyfriend, begins peace proceedings.
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Reaching across to the bedside table, Max pulled his phone into view, squinting at the screen in the low light as he rested the hand clutching it on the table. Also nothing. Well, not nothing. The usual messages and notifications. The usual emails.
The headlines.
TROUBLE IN PARADISE? MAX VERSTAPPEN AND CHARLES LECLERC NOT SEEN TOGETHER AFTER SURPRISE FINISH TO ABU DHABI RACE
BREAKING POINT – DID THAT CRASH DESTROY SOMETHING MORE THAN LECLERC’S CAR?
F1’S FAVOURITE COUPLE HAVEN’T SPOKEN SINCE ABU DHABI; HERE’S WHAT WE KNOW
The phone fell back down onto the table with a clunk, and Max let his head fall back onto the pillow. And the silence filled his ears again. Vast. Oppressive. Cold. A void.
After Charles's crash at the end of last season, to the outside at least, their relationship seems to be on the rocks. The press will never stop swarming, especially with Charles's move to Mercedes, and Max's fifth title snatched away from him at the last second. Nothing is silent, and nothing is private.
As they navigate the 2026 season, new teams, new management, new regulations, there remains one question on the media's lips - can love prevail when you're suppose to be rivals?
Series
- Part 2 of Hear The Engines Purr
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“Is that what you want, LH? For me to call you sir whilst you fuck me into the mattress?”
There was a haze of arousal taking over Lewis’s deep eyes, that he was certain of. It wasn’t often Charles came out with something absolutely filthy like that, but when he did, he meant it. And it made Lewis a puddle of bones and flesh underneath him.
“Maybe…” His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed against the dryness Charles’s words had suddenly caused. He watched the flicker of mischief run over his expression, the quirk of his lips, the way his hand was still planted firmly on his chest.
“I’ll remember that,” Charles replied, voice low, eyes fixed on Lewis. “But not tonight. We aren’t doing that tonight.”
“Are we not?” Lewis’s fingers were still wrapped around the back of Charles’s neck, but now rather than holding him in place, he felt far more like he was holding on to him for stability. The tables had turned fast. That never usually happened. Not without a solid fight.
“Non.” The word, the accent, made Lewis’s eyes flutter, just a little. “Tonight, you are mine to look after.”
A Shanghai podium celebration for Charles and Lewis.
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"I’m basically telling someone that there’s a high chance my brain is going to distract me enough that they no longer turn me on. They’re not going to stick around after that, are they?”
With a single shoulder shrug, and a head tilt, Oscar was taking another sip of his tea. “Maybe. Or maybe they could take it as a challenge.”
Eyebrow raised, Lando also slowly placed his cup down. “A challenge? I don’t want to be someone’s project,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and twisting to face Oscar more.
“I don’t mean like that,” Oscar assured gently, that soft smile back on his face. “I mean, don’t you think, if it were the other way round... if someone told you they were really struggling, that they were getting sensory overload to the point where they couldn’t focus on their pleasure, wouldn’t you want to make it your mission to find a way to help? Make it good for them? Help them block everything else out and keep their attention so solely focused on you and how good you were making them feel that nothing else could distract them?”
Lando is really struggling with his sensory overload. Maybe Oscar is the only one that truly understands, and will truly offer help.
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As he rounded the next corner, into sector two, he caught sight of the crash. From the collapsed barriers and the dust of the kicked-up gravel, it was a bad one. Then he saw a flash of red, the briefest of glances at the livery.
A Ferrari.
“Who?”
“Repeat?"
“Who’s in the wall?”
“Focus. Gap to car ahead, 1.3 seconds.”
“Who is in the wall?”
“Leclerc.”
Witnessing the aftermath of Charles's crash, Max makes a choice he could come to regret. As the media swarms their relationship, there may be more demons to face than they ever expected.
Series
- Part 1 of Hear The Engines Purr
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Settling himself back on his knees between Max’s legs, he pushed up his t-shirt just a little, exposing his stomach, fingertips trailing over the defined abs, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he mapped and explored. Max’s body beneath his touch jolted, and then arched up, his fingers curling into fists above where his pale skin was lit with obscene rainbow. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to have you like this,” Charles purred, smug satisfaction dripping from every syllable. “Laid out for me, just ready to have however I want you.”
A small noise left Max’s lips, and Charles’s eyes darted up to his face to read his expression. But it was still the same, still hazed with lust, lips now parted in a slight pant as his pulse spiked.
Perfect.
Winter. Off season. No where to be. No cameras shoved in their faces. No social media content to film. No meetings to attend. No opinions to be given or words to be twisted.
Just the opportunity to ruin.
Decorating a tree can be perilous. It can also be kinda kinky...
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Wherever You Find Love, It Feels Like Christmas by MurmursInTheNight
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
24 Dec 2025
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“Do you think it’ll happen?” he said softly, to no one in particular. In the two nights they’d been there, there had been hints of the auroras, but not a full display. The staff at the hotel had been saying at breakfast that tonight was going to be perfect conditions, that they’d just been warming up before. Izzy only dared to hope.
Arms were wrapping slowly around him from behind, a soft kiss placed on the back of his head, then his ear, then his neck. “I think they’ll dance for us, Izzy,” Stede whispered in his ear.
Last year, Ed and Stede bought Izzy the once in a life time trip to Iceland, to spend this Christmas there, and to try and fulfil his lifelong dream of seeing the auroras. Join them on their adventure, filled with snow and huskies, and the most magical Christmas Eve.
Series
- Part 2 of Our Flag Means Christmas
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When Carlos broke the kiss, and moved his lips down Lando’s neck, a gentle nip that made him giggle, the moment was broken by Lando stifling a yawn into the pillow. Carlos laughed, fingertips trailing down Lando’s spine. “If you’re too tired, mi amor…”
“No…” Lando instantly mumbled, another giggle falling from him as Charles wrapped his arms around him from behind, squeezing him gently. “I’m not… I’m really not too… I just… I couldn’t sleep anyway and..." There was another slow exhale falling from his lips and he flopped back, sinking into the gap between them, head falling against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Carlos shifted, laying on his side to look down at him, Charles mirrored the other side. "It’s just…” His voice was smaller now, airy, whimsical. “I fucking did it.” Carlos’s hand stilled from the caress on his skin, eyes flicking to Charles, their grins the same at the way Lando was just staring up at the ceiling, a distant smile on his face himself. “I fucking did it!” There was more assurance in his voice then, and suddenly he seemed wide awake. He sat up, all hands falling from him as he did. “I’m a world champion!"
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When Carlos finally pulled back, he couldn’t help but marvel at a job well done. A thin string of saliva trailed between their lips, Charles’s hair mussed against the pillow and sticking up every which way, his cheeks flushed and red. And next to him, Lando, much the same, curls sticking to his forehead from both the shower and the sheen of desperate sweat over his tanned skin, eyes hooded as he stared up at Carlos, lips parted in a silent moan as the fingers move tortuously slowly inside him.
Smug. That was the only word Carlos could think of to express how he felt. Fucking smug.
Well, not the only word. There were a million words tumbling through his head as he stared down at his two boyfriends. Lucky, honoured, grateful, just so fucking shocked he got to have this. He wasn’t sure he could think of anything better in that moment – a podium that meant the world and his two lovers splayed out on the mattress below him.
Carlos, Lando and Charles and their various encounters. Each chapter is relative to a race, this season and last. Out of chronological order. Now updated with Abu Dhabi 2025...
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“Oscar…”
“Don’t.” The word was a growl, an instruction, the fingers around his wrists tightening enough to make Lando wonder if he’d have to be wearing long sleeves in the heat of Qatar the following week. Their foreheads were almost rested together, but nothing so tender was passing between them. Instead, the millimetre of space that sat there was purposeful, calculated, deliberate. “Don’t try to make it better.”
He wasn’t going to. And he wanted to bite that back, scream that at him. How could he possibly even try and make it better? What use was words now? It was done, it had happened. Decisions were made and taken, out of their control. He wasn’t going to try and make it better because there was no feasible way he could.
Instead, the air between them grew hotter, heavier, the settling anticipation and the uncertain next move. Eyes darted in the low light, and Lando shifted, trying to find an inch of space between them, to no avail. Every single molecule of Oscar was pressed to him, the weight of him keeping him there with more than physical force.
Post Vegas.
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Max must’ve watched that happen behind his eyes, must’ve seen the acceptance kick in, the knowledge that he was the prey and he had been caught, no escape. Because then suddenly Max was flipping them, crashing back into the wall himself, Charles melting back into the kiss, entire body trying to physically form with Max's as he pressed in. The kiss stayed hot, heavy, needy, desperate and raw, and this time Charles's hands were tugging open Max's race suit, unzipping it down to his hips, hands hungry and commanding.
Until there was pressure on his shoulders, Max's hands pushing, sinking Charles down to his knees in front of him.
The demand was more than obvious.
And there, on his knees in front of Max, Charles realised that in all the years they'd been doing this, all of the lazy mornings in sun-soaked hotel sheets, slow love-making on sunloungers rocked by the flow of the sea, and of course numerous quick fucks in hot, sticky drivers rooms, they'd never done this still in their race suits before.
Max has a bad race result. He seeks out something he can control - Charles.
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“I need to…” He faltered, and Ed shifted towards the edge of the sofa, like he was ready to gather Izzy in his arms any second. He was. He always was. “Brains fucked. Nightmares are back… random fucking anxiety attacks. I don’t know, it’s… it’s coming up to a year and it’s like…” Ed was on his feet then, moving carefully towards Izzy, but still giving him space to finish. “I’m being stupid, I’m hiding it from you. And I don’t want to. I shouldn’t and I don’t want to.” It was the steadiest sentence he’d said, defiant, solid.
Healing wasn’t linear. Sometimes it was two steps forward and ten steps back. But the fact he was stood there now, ready to admit he was hiding, and that he didn’t want that anymore was… huge.
It's been almost a year since Izzy arrived on Ed and Stede's doorstep, beaten, bruised, and almost broken. He's started to settle into this new chapter, but it doesn't mean it all just goes away - he still trips sometimes. But with Ed, Stede and Ivan at his side, his found family surrounding him, and a new baby in his life, there's enough people to always pick him back up again.
Series
- Part 5 of Once Upon A Time
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“Did it hurt?”
“Yeah, it hurt.”
Nico’s expression softened, and he leant in to press a gentle kiss to Gabi’s forehead. He could see in his periphery Gabi’s trainer hovering, probably wanting to take him away to check over himself, maybe put into a warm bath to soothe the muscles, get him doing some stretches to stop his body seizing. He knew the deal, they both did. This interaction couldn’t be much longer. They always promised it wouldn’t affect their races, wouldn’t get in the way.
“I’m room 224,” Nico said softly, raising his hand and brushing his thumb over Gabi’s cheek. “If you want…?”
“Yeah,” Gabi replied without missing a beat. “I’ll see you there, after quali.”
Gabi crashes at his first home race. Nico is there to provide some much needed comfort.
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“Nervous?” The way Oscar asked that, so matter of fact without a hint of judgement, made Lando realise that actually the nerves were even more stupid than he initially thought. Because Oscar had read that from looking at him for less than ten seconds. He’d read it from the way Lando was gently biting his bottom lip, the way his fingers were twitching in Oscar’s hand, the others tapping on his own thigh. He’d read it from the slight haze across his eyes, and the ever so slightly out of sync breathing.
“Yeah, but not like…” Lando pushed himself to his feet then, stepping close to Oscar, the tiny difference in height meaning he had to tip his head up slightly to brush his lips over Oscar’s again. “Not so much I don’t wanna do this.” Oscar needed to understand that. This wasn’t hesitancy, this was just being in his head.
“No, I know,” Oscar confirmed, voice steady and sure, telling Lando he really did know. “It’s weirder when we have to plan it like this. But it’s okay, you can stop thinking. I can look after you…”
Firsts don't have to be scary. Not when you can trust like Lando does.
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Charles was also right about what Max wanted, though. He did want that, sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. And the times he did, he never asked. He fucked Charles differently instead. Slower, closer, with a different kind of feeling. He fucked Charles in the way he wanted to be fucked. He didn’t know how to ask. Never had. Of course Charles had noticed.
“I mean it, Max,” he sighed, sipping his drink again, eyes fixed on Max. “You can just ask for exactly what you want. I’ll give it to you…”
They’d left that there, then. Max had never been more pleased to be pulled off his lunchbreak and back into the media pen. But Charles wasn’t going to let it lie for long. And that was how they’d ended up here. Practise was earlier than usual, giving them a longer evening off. So that morning, Charles had joined him in the shower, pressed up against his back, place a few kisses on his neck, and breathed into his ear words that had echoed in Max’s head for the entire time he was in the car.
“Tonight, you’re going to fuck me how I want. And then you’re going to tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you. And I’ll do it. Whatever you want.”
No wonder Max had been distracted during post-practice debrief.
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The cameras were on them. Tenfold. But neither of them cared. Private, not secret, that was the agreement. And if there was ever a moment to be more open with affection, it was now.
Max, a podium at home, during a season where scoring good points was sometimes a struggle.
Charles, a DNF, when he may have been challenging for a podium.
No words exchanged, just Charles’ weak congratulatory smile, and Max’s sympathetic head tilt as they were stood in front of each other, both still buzzing from adrenaline for entirely different reasons, both at opposite ends of the emotional spectrum, both tired and wrung out from a tough race.
So yes, the cameras were on them. But neither of them were going to deny the other physical intimacy in that moment.
Charles is in need of a hug after his DNF in Zandvoort. Max is more than willing to oblige.
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“I wonder if my hotel room is as nice as yours?”
Fuck. Gabi felt his knees weaken at that, Nico’s near-sultry voice making a German accent far more seductive than Gabi thought was possible, his eyes shining with mischief, intrigue, a confidence Gabi wished he could have himself. “I guess there’s only one way to find out?” His reply was no where near as measured as he would’ve wanted, no where near as calm, hearing his own voice shudder slightly. He would’ve challenged anyone else to be calm faced with what he was faced with in that moment.
“I guess so,” Nico replied, a smirk pulling across his lips, making Gabi’s eyes dart to them, the memories of the soul-raking kiss tumbling through his mind as he looked. He needed to feel that again. And more. So much more. “I’ll wait for you there.”
They shared one kiss after Silverstone. Now Gabi needs more. What better excuse, than to celebrate his best F1 career finish, and first Driver of the Day?
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He could smirk about that thought now. Too innocent? Load of shit. Young? God yes, so young. Sweet? The sweetest person Nico had ever had the pleasure of coming across, that was certain. But innocent?
Most places on Nico’s body would beg to differ.
Nico and Gabi celebrate the wonder that is Nico dragging that Sauber past the chequered flag in 3rd.
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Home had meant different things at different times to Izzy. Sometimes it was just a room, a place where he existed, managed to survive. Other times it had been truly a place to live, to enjoy, somewhere he did more than just survive in. He had expected, when he was a young naive kid and the world hadn’t poisoned his positivity yet, that he could go from simply just existing in a room under some else’s roof to having a home that was his own, that he loved, and that would be the end of it. He never used to think he would revert, tumble back down the ladder, fall back in to the abyss of simply existing in a room because a basic human need was shelter.
Ed was all the home he ever needed, in the end.
Izzy's got a new life to navigate as he heals - he's safe, he's being looked after, and he's learning how to be in a polyamorous relationship with his ex-husband and his new(ish) boyfriend. But his past won't leave him alone, not just yet. All he wants is his happy ending, which he knows he will have. Eventually. But you can't heal wounds that people don't know you have...
Picks up directly from Part 1 - Happier Than Ever. Title and chapters from Taylor Swift's 'The Archer'.
Series
- Part 4 of Once Upon A Time
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“How am I suppose to just keep turning up and doing this?” Charles whispered, head tipping back onto Max’s shoulder. “They don’t fucking listen to me. And I’m just shit at…”
“No.” Max silenced him by sitting up straighter, shifting Charles where he leant against him, carefully lay him back onto the mattress so his feet were still planted on the floor, his back stretched out. For a start, it would do wonders for the tension Charles obviously held in his spine. Second, Max could now straddle his hips, and with the lightening fast reactions he had, grab at Charles hands and pin them above his head, stretching his arms up too, hearing his shoulders pop and release some of the stiffness that sat there. “/You/ are not shit at anything. /You/ are one of the most talented drivers out there.”
After another abysmal race in Silverstone, Charles is done. He's angry, he's blaming himself. Max is done in a different way. Luckily, the same solution will help them both.