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Max Verstappen, a multi-time world champion, shocks the racing world by announcing his retirement. Charles Leclerc is furious, storming into Max’s home demanding answers.
“What happened to racing together for the next 15-20 years?!” Charles doesn’t even know why he's so upset—he only knows something feels wrong. Max, a little perplexed but calm as ever, simply offers, “Drive for Red Bull.”
Charles is stunned, the anger momentarily forgotten. “I don’t want to race for Red Bull if you’re not there.”
Max’s response? A cryptic, “Who says I wouldn’t be?”
Completely thrown off, Charles snaps, “You’re confusing me, Max!”
Max’s grin widens. “You want to win, right?”
Charles scowls. “Yes, but with Ferrari—and against you.”
Max shrugs. “That’s not gonna happen. Even Lewis couldn’t get his 8th in a Ferrari. But you could win with me.”
“Stop talking in riddles, Max!”
Max steps closer, lowering his voice. “Race for Red Bull, and I’ll be your engineer.”
Now it’s Charles who’s speechless.
Bookmarked by nk129
20 Mar 2026
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On the drive back to the hotel Max had turned to him, blue eyes fierce and piercing.
“Promise me you won’t stop being angry. You’re angry because you know what you can do. Use it, control it, let it fuel you. Other people won’t understand but that doesn’t matter, you know what you’re capable of.”
You and me, he’d seemed to say, we’re the same.
Charles wonders now how he ever thought Max wouldn’t understand.
Or: Charles leaves Ferrari, tries to win a championship, and learns some things about belonging. All the while, Max is there.
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Bookmarked by nk129
16 Mar 2026
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Oscar Piastri has always hoped his soulmate would understand his job, the traveling and all the energy it takes.
Thank god Max Verstappen understands.
Bookmarked by nk129
03 Mar 2026
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"Rebecca" is a blue-eyed, curly-haired, twenty-one-year-old, third-year electrical engineering student at Oxford University.
She likes house music, spy thrillers, and going out with her friends. She doesn't mind pet names and likes compliments. But she never—not ever—sends for free.
Oscar is nervous at first, and then he makes three hundred pounds sending a seventy-year-old a picture of his big toe, and he is officially convinced.
OR: Oscar is broke, so he starts catfishing millionaires for easy money. Carlos is one of those millionaires.
Bookmarked by nk129
28 Feb 2026
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The Maxcar sequel to my fic Oh, golden boy
...
Oscar giggles to himself again. Max cocks his head at him in question. He must probably think Oscar’s gone insane. He can’t fault him for it. He is feeling a bit insane. He blames it on the gin. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me sweet before. Or emotional.”
Max looks at him for a long second, his gaze heavy, wandering. For all the time he's forced to spend in front of a camera, Oscar has never learned to be comfortable being looked at. For some reason though, when it is Max looking at him, it never seems to be an issue. When Max looks at him, he doesn’t feel like he’s being scrutinized, surveyed to be then analyzed and picked apart a hundred times; he feels simply being seen, taken in with all his goods and bads as if they're not something to be judged, but to be accepted as a mere, faultless facts. “Well, maybe they don’t know you well enough.”
He blushes, his face feeling ablaze. “And you think you do?”
“It’s a work in progress.” Max says, simple as ever, simple as if the statement doesn’t want to make Oscar down the entire bottle of alcohol in front of him and start screaming.Series
- Part 2 of Oh, golden boy
Bookmarked by nk129
23 Feb 2026