flashurheart
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Charles, a fighter pilot for the French-Monégasque Armée de l'Air, is also second in line to the Monégasque throne. And, so what, if he has a crush on Max Verstappen? Even as a tifoso? And, so what, if Max Verstappen just bought him a drink?
He's a trained, professional soldier who's done two tours in Afghanistan... He can be totally normal about this.
(He cannot, in fact, be normal about this)
(But that's okay, because neither can Max)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 155,723
- Chapters:
- 16/16
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- Bookmarks:
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Bookmarked by flashurheart
03 Jun 2026
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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 flashurheart
08 May 2026
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Austria 2019, a two-person house party, Abu Dhabi 2021, a silly lover’s quarrel, and a stove-side morning proposal.
Bookmarked by flashurheart
05 May 2026
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Esteban thinks he’s figured his own past out, unwound and stared at and digested it, but that’s still something about his childhood he doesn’t like to look into, not deeply, not cruelly, not with scrutiny. He leaves it there. It almost remains innocent, like that, something clueless and soft and indiscernible that made no more sense when he was twelve years old and crossing the last few lines he’d ever draw in the sand before he lost something forever.
Maybe it’s cruel, to someone, Pierre or otherwise, to refuse to admit he ever really loved him.
Bookmarked by flashurheart
23 Mar 2026
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Max can’t smell any of his usual aggression beneath the unusual spatter of Omega, sweet yet violent, and it makes his head spin.
“Max,” is all Charles says, voice breathless. He looks over his shoulder, quick, hasty, looks back. His eyes are wider, if possible. “We have— we have fucked up, I think.”
Series
- Part 1 of like fire and powder
Bookmarked by flashurheart
23 Mar 2026