srociox
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Summary
“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)
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“Are you done bothering this guy? I didn’t think blonds were your thing.” Pierre says through a mouthful of pizza, causing Charles’ eyes to go wide and dart back to Max, who is finding the whole situation rather amusing.
“Merci, Pierre, this is Max Verstappen who works at Vasseur’s and he is Dutch. He has been boring me with his whole life story.”
or:
Seasons pass, and fate keeps throwing Max and Charles together.
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“What the hell is this, Charles?” Max stares in alarm at himself through the mirror.
No, Charles has not shaved him bald. Actually, Max just got settled down post-hair wash so Charles has not had the chance to cut a single hair on his head.
Yet here Max is, looking on in shock. Horror, even.
Why is he wearing an atrocious cape covered in dogs?!
“Hmm? What do you mean?” Charles asks innocently, turned away from Max. When Charles finally faces the mirror again, Max is still able to catch the faintest smug smile that he had not been able to repress. Sneaky fucker.
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Or, how a Formula 1 driver fell in love with a menace of a hairdresser. The Max and Charles prequel to My Hairdresser, His Secrets, and I.
Series
- Part 2 of Love is in the (H)air
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nothing safe is worth the drive, and I would follow you home by fruity_bubblegum
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
28 Jan 2026
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Summary
It’s about winning. Everything is. Even this impromptu meeting on the tarmac is about who will come out on top with red meat wedged in their teeth. Charles doesn’t remember a time when their relationship was about something other than winning. He doesn’t care either, as long as he emerges from the fight with signed divorce papers in his hand. Then, he can go back to winning his championship, and maybe in ten more years, he can forget about Max forever.
Charles isn’t leaving Monaco without a divorce. Max isn’t making that easy for him.
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Summary
It all started with a stolen wallet from some sort of Dutch mafia man at the club. He'd entertained the man, slipped his hand into his suit jacket, and plucked the debit card from inside with the intention of buying something nice. It wasn't like Charles really understood that his tattooed stranger was Max Verstappen, the Penoze boss of Amsterdam. Besides, how were either of them supposed to anticipate the wild sex that followed, a turf war with Italian mafia for the exotic dancer, and falling into an unconventional relationship? The things one does for love...