GeForest
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Charles opens the door in his work out shorts and giant hoodie, half of his hair smooshed to the side of his head while the other sticks straight up. He's frantically trying to smooth it with one hand as he swings the door wide with the other, but gets distracted by Max standing there, red-cheeked and trying to pretend he isn’t panting.
The cloud of rainpancakesearthsyrup floods into his apartment, making Charles blink dazedly. It’s so fucking good. He can’t help but gasp a bit, surprised.
Max takes a final deep, almost heaving breath and shoots his arm out straight in front of him, a dark blue hoodie clenched in his fist. “Here.”
Charles doesn’t reach for it. He eyes Max, the sheen of sweat along his hairline, the fit of his relatively but not egregiously skinny jeans.
“Did you—did you run here?”
Max grimaces a little, then shrugs. “Brought this for you.”
*
Charles has spent the last 28 years highly sensitive to smell, usually to the detriment of his own well-being. So what if Max’s presence—and scent—have always helped with that?
So what if this is the year Max finally notices?
Bookmarked by GeForest
04 Jun 2026
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Charles Leclerc has two problems.
Problem one: Iron Man. Insufferable. Narcissistic. Calls him baby during briefings and makes inappropriate comments about his ass in those red regulation trousers. Charles wants to throw him off a tower. Preferably daily.
Problem two: Max Verstappen. Brilliant. Kind. Has the most distracting blue eyes Charles has ever seen. Charles wants to kiss him senseless. Preferably daily.
It takes Charles an embarrassingly long time to realize he only has one problem.
Bookmarked by GeForest
06 May 2026
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“I’m kind of in a rush because I have a birthday party for a friend. I need a present, but he doesn’t really like music.”
The man’s bright smile fades. Max feels a tightness in his chest at the sight of that, but as the words he’s just said process in both of their minds, he realizes he’s probably got worse things to worry about than making this beautiful man smile.
God, he’s beautiful.
“I’m sorry. So, you need a present for a friend who doesn’t really like music and you came into a record store?”
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OR: Max finds a way to give all his friends the gift of music (and it totally has nothing to do with the cute boy who works at the record store)
Bookmarked by GeForest
21 Feb 2026
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“Good evening. I’m Charles,” he offers his hand, which Max takes and for a second, Charles thinks he’s going to kiss the back of it. Some muscle spasms in the tight grip, rough velvet against soft skin. When Charles gets his hand back, it feels like he lost a finger or two in the fight.
“What’s your poison, Charles?” Max asks, settling on the barstool like it’s not designed to be the most uncomfortable chair in the world.
“Cyanide, usually. I’ll settle for a gin tonic for now.”
or:
Charles is a supermodel that has learned everything he needs to make his world turn. Now, he has no idea what Max Verstappen wants from him.
Bookmarked by GeForest
27 Nov 2025
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“Oh god, not you,” Charles groans, crossing his arms on his chest.
The Batman visibly rolls his eyes (blue, of course, because all men that messed with Charles’ life had that in common apparently) at his reaction, but another look at Charles makes him step closer.
“Yes, always a pleasure. Are you ok?”
or:
5 times both Max and the Batman makes Charles' life a lot more complicated than needed + 1 time he doesn't
Bookmarked by GeForest
19 Nov 2025