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Max Verstappen likes to be in control of things. He likes to know what’s going to happen, and how, and when. He follows routine, he trains, he drives, he wins. Of course, in motorsport, you must expect the unexpected —anything can happen, and it usually does— but even then, he can control how he reacts to the unforeseen circumstances.
None of that applies when it comes to Charles Leclerc.or
Max and Charles are friends with benefits. The only issue is the fire in Max's chest that constantly threatens to swallow him whole. And Charles could never want anything to do with it.
Bookmarked by imgoingtocry
17 Sep 2026
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“Tell me,” Charles says, more of a command than anything else. And Max, absolute goddamn moron who didn’t realize he was in love with this bastard for three whole weeks, let alone all the months before, obeys without a second thought.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Yes,” Charles agrees immediately, then looks continually expectant.
“I’ve been in love with you for, I don’t know, months.”
The words visibly make Charles’ pupils expand as he gazes at Max. He sucks in a breath, then releases it with a whoosh.
“I think about you all the goddamn time. It’s ruining my life.”
Charles nods, primly, like this is something he anticipated.
“You are actively the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” Max isn’t even exaggerating. The last few weeks have been awful. “You’re way too intense and everything is a big deal with you,” he gestures between them to demonstrate, “and you can’t let an argument go to save your life. Especially not with me.”
*
Or, Charles thinks they’re dating. Max would like it to be known that they very much are not. For now, at least.
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12 Sep 2026
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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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Bookmarked by imgoingtocry
24 Aug 2026
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Max asks Charles to teach him how to date.
Charles teaches him how to touch someone without breaking them.
Somewhere between the first kiss and the tenth, they stop pretending this is about anyone else.
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- English
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Bookmarked by imgoingtocry
24 Aug 2026
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Here’s the thing about Charles Leclerc: Max Verstappen is never going to be able to fully escape him. Not really. Not in a way that matters.
or
Max Verstappen tries his best to move past his infatuation with Charles Leclerc. Because it's not serious. It can't be. Loving him means losing him, and that's something he completely refuses to do. However, it's not easy with Charles following him around all the time, looking like that, sounding like that, being like that - being Charles Leclerc.
Bookmarked by imgoingtocry
10 Aug 2026