#max/daniel
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we are SO BACK baby. is Sebchal alive?? Have I succeeded in the CPR?
ao3(with some notes), 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
Before lunch, Max is trying to catch up on the lost sleep in the lounge chair. Daniel is swimming with long, strong strokes that smoothly break the water’s surface and barely make any sound. When he dives up and sees Max, planes of milky skin on show, his mouth waters. Max's nose had already started to turn red, and his sunglasses were doing nothing to hide that.
Max thinks about joining him for a split second, but last night's dream still lives at the back of his head. He breathes in the smell of chlorine, and another memory flashes, him trying to resurface, legs and arms tied, lungs on fire from the lack of oxygen.
“Cover your tits, Max!” Charles yells across the terrace, framing his mouth with his hands so he's louder. Max doesn't even stir.
Anne is sitting on a chair, typing away on her computer. Her phone rings and she starts chattering in quick Dutch, something Daniel doesn't even try to decipher. Max, however, sits up when she hangs up.
“He gave you an E?” he asks, his voice scratchy.
Anne blushes and nods once. She picks up the drink Charles has poured for her but doesn't drink it. “I guess he didn't really-”
“Well, that's bullshit. You told me what you would write about and made some great points.” Max stands up, and the shadow from his figure stretches all the way to Daniel.
Anne sighs and lets Max sit down on the chair next to her. “It's not that bad, Max. He did have some valid criticism-”
“Honestly, fuck him.” His shoulders are hunched, and his lips are forming a thin line. Daniel's stomach tightens at seeing him like this.
“I need to try harder. My classmates-”
Max scoffs. “It's just that, you know, they are all so-” she continues, her voice wobbly now. “I feel like I need to do three times more just to be able to play with them at the sandpit.”
It always felt stupid to Max to talk to her about the glass ceiling and feminism when he was a white man from a wealthy family. After all, the only other woman here was Pierre's girlfriend. She still hasn't introduced herself to them.
“Maybe we should introduce her to Mlinarević.” Charles quips beside them and rolls his eyes when Max immediately scrunches his nose.
“What about Susie?” Daniel asks from where he is leaning on his forearms in the pool.
Anne nods. “She's nice, yeah. But she's been trying to persuade me to change my nationality for over a year now.”
“Yeah, we have to figure out something different.”
Daniel exits the pool, and the water swooshes in short, quick waves. “Maybe you should just drop out,”
“Daniel!” Max hushes him and Daniel smirks, shaking his hair just beside him so the droplets fall on Max's heated skin.
Anne just shoots him a smile and turns back to her computer. Max, however, isn't going to let him get away with it. He stands up and pushes into him just as Daniel leans over to get the towel. He falls into the pool with a loud splash, laughing as he resurfaces.
“Maybe don't try to persuade my mentee to drop out of school, yeah?” Max says, but this time, he is smiling.
“She's right, though,” Alex unexpectedly joins the conversation. “Poli sci students are assholes.”
|
Daniel and Sebastian are put on the market duty for the day. Daniel doesn't mind, thankful for some alone time with the older man.
They walk around the market in silence for a while, Sebastian looking for asparagus and Daniel for some fruits. It's buzzing with life at this time and the smell of lavender is ever-present. Sebastian is the first to speak right after Daniel manages to buy the green apples that Max likes. Daniel thinks they are too sour. “What did he say about Beijing?”
Daniel purses his lips. “He was very humble with the word count. More of a horrified-facial expression-situation,”
Seb smirks. “He's going to talk to Jos about it, but I know he doesn't want to go.” Daniel feels his voice tightening and he coughs a little to clear it.
“It would be a career suicide not to go,”
Daniel puts on his sunglasses even though the sun is not directly above them just yet. “It's going to be a career suicide for him to go.”
Sebastian stops by the stand with the asparagus, smiling winningly. “Max is still so young. He can wait a bit.”
“I think, listen, just between us,” Daniel says in a hushed voice. “They are trying to get him into politics - again. And for the first time, it seems like he would consider it. He thinks he's doing a great job hiding it from me.”
Sebastian hands him the asparagus he bought and doesn't grace Daniel's gossip with an answer.
“You know something.” Daniel accuses him after he stays quiet for just a bit too long.
The blond just shrugs, says some French pleasantries to the merchant and turns to look at him. “Sorry, Daniel, you don't have clearance for that.”
Daniel rolls his eyes and puckers his lips in an annoyed expression. “Yeah, you can fuck right off,” He looks at Seb's tanned hands, the ring-less fingers and shifts to an offense. “Any development in the tortured lovers saga?”
“Well, funny you should ask. Yesterday,” Sebastian says with a small smile on his lips. “I told Charles I had feelings for him.”
Daniel whips around so fast that he gets a whiplash. “What?” he yells out and immediately hears a low grumble in French.
Sebastian has the nerve to just nod.
“AND?” Daniel is so loud Sebastian shushes him, rolling his eyes.
“He said he doesn't care,” he continues only after they move on to another stand, this one with strawberries.
“What?” Daniel mouths soundlessly, shocked.
By now, Sebastian is blushing a bit. “He said he already knew I had feelings for him-”
Daniel makes a sound but doesn't speak in fear of spooking Sebastian into silence.
“But-” Seb sighs, observing the strawberries with the eye of a professional. “He doesn't care because he also knows I don't want to do anything about it. Said he could see I'd not decided to do anything about it and he wasn't interested in mind games. But he told me he would always say yes if I asked.”
“Oh my god,” Daniel whispers like the gossip he is. “This is the most absurd thing I have ever heard!” he says nonsensically, realising it's not true at all. “How do you feel about that?”
Sebastian stops in his tracks, thinking mutely for a second. “I'm happy. Really, really happy.”
He smiles, handing the strawberries to Daniel, who takes them, not even trying to hide his astonishment. He can't wait to have a debrief about this with Max.
#maxiel#diplomacy au#max/daniel#max verstappen#daniel ricciardo#my writing#my ficlets#f1 rpf#f1 fic#sebchal
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2022 thinking this is it Daniel falling into Max’s arms and genuinely smiling and relaxing even though he was definitely going through a shit time himself you will always be special to me
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max walking into that cooldown room like my man did nothing wrong actually ❤️
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Blindfolded Virtual Hot Lap (2018 || 2023)
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continuation and happy ending for this break up fic. i fixed it! (and maybe did a sloppy job of it oops) BUT I hope this brings someone, somewhere joy.
When Daniel gets to the door of his apartment, there is a tall, cardboard box propped up against his door. He doesn’t know when it was delivered because he’s spent the last few nights since being back in Monaco bouncing between Scotty’s place and Blake’s, drinking more and sleeping less than he should.
It’s how he ended up in this mess in the first place; stuck in the minor injuries unit, bleeding and embarrassed, waiting for Max to come and rescue him. Because even now, six fucking months later, he still hasn’t changed his emergency contact information back to Blake.
Sighing, Daniel balances the box in one hand and fumbles with his keys in the other to get his front door open. Once inside he dumps the box onto the counter and pours himself a glass of water. Takes a sip, sets the glass back down, and feels lost.
The truth is, he doesn’t know what was worse. That he hadn’t expected Max to show up, or that he did, and even though Daniel saw him nearly every weekend still, like this it was- Different. Max with his mussed up hair like he’d rolled straight out of bed to come to the hospital for Daniel, reminding him of everything he didn’t want to remember.
Like how their kind of falling apart happened slowly, so slowly that the track limits crept up on them, and by the time Daniel tried to hit the break they were already in the wall. Small disagreements built on top of months of half-conversations, until resolution stopped being the goal. Instead, it was to get through a week, a day, a morning without cracking whatever tentative peace they’d found the last time.
Shaking his head is a bad idea considering he might have a concussion, but Daniel can’t stop himself from doing it. As though his brain is an etch-a-sketch from which the fights and the furious words he spat at Max regularly can be erased.
He groans out loud, tipping the rest of the water down the sink before turning his attention back to the parcel. Ripping it open gives his shaking hands something to do, gives his nail bed a rest from his anxious chewing.
A sweet smell hits him first, before his eyes can make sense of what he’s seeing, and-
Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t a bouquet of tulips and a small, hand-drawn card.
To brighten your day, Uncle Daniel, the note attached said, in Isaac’s messy scrawl, but he bet the wobbly hearts underneath were all Izzy. The words all Michelle.
It’s enough to put the smile back on his face for just a moment, even as his stomach churns with the same homesick feeling he’s been unable to shake since he left his and Max’s apartment. Placing the card down, he takes one of the petals between his thumb and finger, feeling the waxy smoothness against his skin.
They’re a bigger bouquet than the tulips he’d brought for Max one time, back when their fights could be so easily fixed. Daniel can still remember the pleased flush that warmed Max’s cheeks as he’d looked between Daniel’s face and the flowers, eyes wide like this was the most romantic thing someone had ever done for him.
At the time, it had made Daniel proud of himself. Now, it just makes him sad. The idea that crappy, half-wilting tulips brought from a supermarket in Monaco could mean so much when Max deserved the world.
But this had been the way things always went. Daniel would show up with a poker chip from Vegas, a guitar pick from LA, a seashell from Perth, and Max would beam at him like he was the sun for bringing him a gift. Or just- maybe just because Daniel showed up at all.
I don’t understand, Daniel, why nothing with you is ever enough. Max had always thrown in his face whenever Daniel picked a fight as a plea for words, for attention, for affection. I am here, aren’t I? The more than you was always unspoken, but still deafening.
I’m always going to be here.
And he still was, living in their apartment that Daniel moved out of months ago. Still sending Daniel’s dad a bottle of wine on his birthday, still cuddling Izzy when he saw her at the grand prix last weekend. Still turning up to hospital waiting rooms for Daniel at four in the morning.
Why do I feel like I have to be a fucking games console to get the tiniest bit of interest from you, Daniel had spat at Max, another evening he’d come home to find Max engrossed in the sim. How am I supposed to trust that you love me when you hardly ever fucking say it?
For not the first time, Daniel wonders if maybe Max had been trying to all along, just not with words.
“Fuck, Maxy,” he says to the empty room. “Fuck sake.”
Rubbing his eyes, he paces to the window, wanting to press his throbbing head against the cool glass. He should go to bed, should crawl beneath the covers and sleep until he wakes up feeling strong enough to try forgetting Max all over again.
Needs to forget his worried eyes scanning over Daniel’s body as though trying to catalog where he might need fixing, the soft way he’d said Daniel’s name under the harsh glare of the hospital lights. His stupid fucking car, flashy even for the streets of Monaco, and far too fast at the same time, that-
That is still parked beneath Daniel’s building on the street below.
His eyes catch on it as they slit open against the rising sun, the sparkle of the paintwork against the tarmac. Daniel glances at the clock above his oven. He’s been home an entire fifteen minutes, and still Max hasn’t moved. If he’s not careful he’ll get a parking ticket.
Some things are worth it, he’d told Daniel when he’d warned him of the same thing, a million years ago now, picking Daniel up from the airport and lingering too long in the ‘kiss and fly’ lane.
In another life.
The life Daniel wants more than he can remember the reasons he walked out of it.
“Max,” Daniel finds himself calling out stupidly, even though it’s obvious Max can’t hear. He opens the balcony door, stepping out onto it and calling it louder. “Max!”
Though the traffic on the street below is quiet, almost non existent at this hour, Daniel’s shouts still don’t seem to carry far enough. There’s no sign Max has heard, no opening of a car door, no emergence of his blonde head from the drivers seat.
Daniel needs to do more, he needs-
Stepping back into the apartment, his eyes search his kitchen frantically until his hands grab the flowers on instinct. For a moment, he considers walking down the stairs and handing them to Max, an offering, an apology, a chance, but-
Daniel can’t let him drive away. He can’t risk running down the stairs only to find him gone when he reaches the pavement and steps back out into the Monaco sunrise. This moment is his tenth of a second, small but capable of making all the difference as long as he doesn’t take his foot off the pedal.
A split second of madness passes, and he finds himself back on the balcony pulling one of the stems loose from the bouquet. Before he’s thought about it anymore, he’s watching it hurtle off the edge towards Max’s car. It misses, landing just to the side by his front left tyre, Daniel isn’t giving up.
Stem by stem, he pulls the flowers loose, throwing them down onto Max’s car. His aim gets better, and soon nearly each one is landing on his bonnet or his windshield. Their petals make a soft sound as they hit the shiny bodywork of the car. Sunshine yellow against Ferarri red.
Finally, the car door opens and Daniel waits, arm suspended backwards in midair, still clutching a fistful of stems.
“Daniel, what the fuck are you doing?” Max shouts eventually, scrambling from the car looking pissed.
He covers his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the growing daylight, face screwed up as he squints up at Daniel. His expression should be a reminder of so many bad memories, and it is, but it’s also something Daniel doesn’t want to miss anymore.
“Maxy!” He shouts, letting the rest of the flowers drop to the floor in favour of leaning over the balcony. His heart is pounding so hard against his rib cage that he’s surprised the railing beneath him isn’t vibrating with it. “Can you- I love you. Can you come upstairs?”
For a moment, Max’s face just melts into blankness. The moment stretches, long enough that Daniel’s brain starts scanning for a joke to make, to backtrack, to just get out, but then-
Max smiles. A different kind of sunshine, but still so fucking bright.
“I love you too,” he calls up, his voice more than a little croaky. “I think- I think it would be better if I told you this more, before, but- But also I think it would be better if you came home.”
Daniel’s trainers slap quickly against every other step on the way back down the stairs.
#for once i stuck to my word and wrote the happy ending!#and it was bloody hard lol so#sorry if it sucks!#fic#max/daniel#also ignore delivery logistics that dont make sens plsss lol
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Daniel watches on as Max dodges him for the third time today, shimmies away from Daniel’s hands as he hurries to catch up with GP.
Daniel knows Max likes GP better than most people, knows they’ve been together longer than he and Max have. Max will bring it up sometimes when Daniel’s being needy and won’t stop touching him. He will go, “He is of course my race engineer, Daniel. Always I will have to see him more when it is a race weekend, no?”
Daniel will whine, call them work husbands with no love left for their real spouses. The words will taste sour even to his own tongue, but in the moment it will feel better. Max will say as he did once, “If you do not like this, GP being my husband. You can of course change this also, Daniel.”
So Daniel doesn’t call them that anymore, has taken to kiss him silly instead to keep him put.
But Max’s already been in two meetings with GP, and Daniel has barely seen him today, didn’t even get a morning kiss in before they had to leave for the paddock.
GP is picked off by one of the engineers, young and sweet as he works up the nerve to interrupt Max’s latest rant, hands vivid in the air. Daniel is quick to swoop in, bullies Max into a small alcove with his knee pressed against Max’s thigh to keep him in place.
“Daniel? What is this?” He says, wiggles in his hold. “I of course do not have time for this. Rupert wants me to look over the food that he will order, and I have to –“
“You’re a busy boy, Maxy. I know, just,” Daniel says, digs his knee harder into Max when he still hasn’t stopped moving. “Why are you being weird? I’ve barely seen you today, baby, and now you’re trying to do a fucking runner on me.”
“I am not weird,” Max says, crosses his arms over his chest.
Daniel smiles, sweet and soft to keep his lips from twisting. “Annoyed then? Frustrated? Did I do something to piss you off, babe?”
Max keeps looking at him, steady blues as he doesn’t blink. But his chest starts to move, deep, fast breaths that make his tits strain against the polo he always wears. The wind is chilly too, makes the nips peak out. “I am of course not this, annoyed, frustrated,” he says, voice curt.
“But I did do something,” Daniel guesses. “Baby, whatever I did to make you mad, please just tell me and I will –“
He leans in to touch Max’s waist, face close enough to kiss if Max just gave up the last few inches. But instead of leaning in like he always does, Max twists away from him with a glare, “Always I will see you later, Daniel. You can think maybe about how to not be a stupid idiot then.”
Daniel doesn’t know what to say, watches him walk away with his back against the wall.
“’A stupid idiot’? That’s what he called you?” George asks, digs his fork into the leafy greens Daniel had been too weak to order. “And you’re sure you haven’t done anything bad? Did you forget an anniversary perhaps? The cats’ birthdays?”
Daniel shakes his head. Max doesn’t care about shit like that. Sassy had her birthday back in April, and Jimmy will have his turn after the summer break. Siblings, but not twins. “They of course deserve their own birthdays, Daniel,” Max had said, coaxing a small hat onto the head of a patient Jimmy.
“He was fine last night, had a nice dinner. The hotel room is meh, but that’s not my fault, yeah?” Max had been tossing and turning all night, sweaty where he was pressed Daniel’s chest. But he’s dealt with a tired Max before, and this wasn’t it.
George watches him for a moment, eyes sharp as he stabs his fork through a tomato. “Reckon it’s that thing women do sometimes?” He asks, voice unnaturally casual like he knows it’s a shit thing to say.
“What, George?” Daniel says and abandons his spoonful of chickpea curry. The coriander tastes odd on his tongue, and he wonders if maybe they put nuts in it anyway. “What is it that women and Max do sometimes?”
“I don’t – you know that wasn’t.” Geroge breathes out, in, and then out again. “Carmen obviously doesn’t do this, mind you. And I don’t think Max would either, but there are like, these stories on the internet of women getting mad at their boyfriends because they dreamt about them cheating on them.
“Obviously, Max wouldn’t do it either, but.” George shrugs uncomfortably, the corner of his mouth pulled to the side.
And like, but indeed.
Max barely looks at him during dinner, talks about the press conference like Daniel wasn’t there next to him, and doesn’t answer when he asks about going out for drinks tomorrow.
He’s about to storm back into the bedroom, when Daniel says, “Reckon we should talk about this? Or do you want to keep being mad about something I did in your dream?”
The way Max’s head whips back to look at him is confirmation enough, but the deep, scarlet tint to his cheeks makes it all the more obvious.
“Maxy, why didn’t you tell me you had a bad dream? We could have talked about it together, yeah?” He says. He closes the distance between them cautiously, hovers awkwardly at the edge of Max’s personal space until Max nudges their feet together.
“You were of course a very stupid idiot in my dream, so I thought it would be good maybe to have you think about why it is so bad to do,” Max says, and he sounds so sincere it makes his chest feel tight.
“I reckon that’s fair. It did feel like shit though, thinking you were really mad at me, baby,” Daniel tells him. Max opens his arms, and Daniel is quick to fold himself into them, bury his head in the crook of his neck. The scent of their shared cologne is faint under the day’s sweat. “But you have to know I would never do that to you, yeah?”
Max nods against his shoulder, kisses the crown of his head. “I of course know this, Daniel. It would be very stupid to do this, and you would end up dead also,” Max says. He cups Daniel’s cheek, strokes his thumb along the edge of his jaw, and Daniel knows he’s going to get kissed, soft lips against his, but he cannot –
“Like, yeah. Obviously, I would never cheat on you, Maxy,” he says, covers Max’s hand with his own. To keep him in place, to stop him from moving closer, he doesn’t know. “But, killing me because of it is a bit much, don’t you think?”
Max watches him with a frown, head tilted to the side. “Cheat on me? Why would you do this? Daniel, is this what you dream of? We should talk maybe about this more also.”
Daniel digs his fingers into the dip of his waist, wills Max not to step away, “Hey, it’s your fucking dream, babe. I just think we maybe disagree on whether it deserves the death penalty, but it’s all hypothetical, no?”
Max scoffs, “This is a very stupid dream you have, Daniel. In my dream you were stupid also, so there is maybe something to think about.”
“If it wasn’t – Maxy, love of my life, whom I will never cheat on, ever,” Daniel says, kisses him softly. “Why were you mad at me in your dream?”
Max’s eyes sharpen, and the hand on his cheek drops to hold his shoulder, “Because never would you listen to me, Daniel. We were in the apocalypse, and always you were going to get yourself killed! You did not want to stay with the very nice, very big dog that I told to protect you, and you did not want to eat the food I made for us.
“Always, you wanted stupid Scotty to stay with us, when you knew, you knew of course that he was bitten and would try to eat us. And then I will have to kill him, and you will of course be sad. But I have to save us also, Daniel, so you have to stop being so stupid!”
Max looks so fucking worked up about this, chest heaving and red in the face, and Daniel wants to fucking eat him alive. Kisses him instead, takes what he can get.
“You’re gonna protect me in your big, bad dream, Maxy?”
Max huffs, lets himself be led into the bedroom, “I will of course always save you, Daniel. When you are being so very stupid, also.”
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This has been in my drafts for so long
Max Ricciardo had a very particular routine, one that he hated to stray from. It went a little like this:
In the morning, Daniel would wake him up with kisses. So many of them. And more often than not, those kisses would end with Daniel’s cock buried in Max. The best way to spend the morning in his opinion.
Then they’d eventually tear themselves away from one another long enough to make it to the bathroom. Where they’d shower together and nothing was better than feeling up his husband’s naked and wet body right after some mind blowing sex.
Daniel always made breakfast. It wasn’t that Max expected that of Daniel, but the last time Max had tried, he’d burnt the eggs and nearly set their apartment on fire. It was safer to let Daniel take care of the cooking, especially in the morning. So while Daniel cooked, Max sat at the breakfast bar making flirty comments in the hopes of turning Daniel red.
After breakfast, Daniel would kiss Max again. He’d then go down to their bakery that had been opened by Matilda two hours earlier. Daniel always had a way with charming the morning customers that Max never could. So until noon, Max washed the dishes, fed the cats, made a list of things they’d need for dinner, and played fifa.
Then at noon, Max would head down to the bakery with some sandwiches or last night’s leftovers. By that point, Daniel and Matilda would have been joined by Graham (who Daniel believed to be harboring not-so secret feelings for Matilda). Sometimes Max and Daniel would eat lunch together in the back with Max telling him about the cats and the new terror they were raising in the apartment. (He still wasn’t over the two days that Jimmy had gone missing or the time Sassy had chewed through all of Max’s shoes. They never messed with Daniel.) Other times the bakery would be too busy and they’d eat in turns.
Daniel would spend the next four hours at the bakery with Max and Graham since Matilda always had to leave at 1pm for her classes. Then Daniel left with the list Max had made. He always popped over to the gym first, working out with Scotty. After that it would be to the shops to get everything on the list and almost always, he stopped at the flower shop.
By the time the bakery closed, Daniel would be entering their apartment with groceries and flowers in hand. They cooked dinner together – Max was trusted to do the chopping and occasional stirring.
Dinner was never at the table, always on the sofa with the next episode of the show they were watching. The cats loved to cuddle up to Daniel after dinner which often left Max grumbling about not getting any cuddles until Daniel would wrap his arm around him and pull him close.
More times than not, Max found himself riding Daniel at the end of the night or underneath him or against the wall or bent over the nearest surface.
It was a good routine, a great routine that Max hated to stray from.
So it was a bit of a fucking surprise when he woke up in a hospital room with some stranger and his dad standing around, but no Daniel. He doesn’t recall any situation where he’d end up in the hospital rooms and it had been a good five years since he’d cut off contact with his dad.
“Daniel?” he croaks, trying to find any hint of his husband and fearing the worst when he doesn't.
“Daniel?” one of the men questions with furrowed brows. He has a British accent and a Red Bull logo shirt. “Max, what's the last thing you remember?” the man questions.
“Daniel and I were talking,” Max replies. They’d been talking about adoption that night. Max had brought it up as they laid in bed. He can’t remember what Daniel had said in response, but he had a feeling it had been good. Daniel was meant for fatherhood.
“Max, you were in the car at the Red Bull Ring. Daniel’s in Australia to celebrate his birthday with his family,” the man says.
Max has no idea what’s going on or what the Red Bull Ring is or how it was Daniel’s birthday because they’d celebrated it two months earlier with Max all tied up. But he just nods along, not liking the glaring look he was receiving from his father.
It only gets weirder from there.
He’s apparently not married to Daniel. He’s a driver for the Red Bull F1 team and a two time world champion. Daniel is also a driver, but he had a few hard seasons and had to take a step back to a reserve/test role at Red Bull. They’re not even dating.
Everything about the world he finds himself in is wrong. How could he not be with Daniel? Was this version of himself stupid? Why was he not Max Ricciardo already? It wasn't fun being Max Verstappen.
He wants to go back to being Max Ricciardo. He wants to wake up in Daniel’s arms with kisses and cuddles. He wants to be a bakery owner married to the man he loves.
Even worse, he thinks, is that Max Verstappen, the one that is supposed to be the two time world champion and not-husband of Daniel, is probably with his Daniel. He never expected to be jealous of himself for being with Daniel. But his stupider version was out there getting his husband’s kisses and loving, so he had the right to be jealous. That fucker was getting to enjoy everything about Max’s life while Max had to endure a Daniel-less existence as a driver of all things. That Max got to be married to Daniel, meanwhile Max hadn’t even seen this Daniel.
He finally sees Daniel a week after he woke up in the hospital. There’s some Red Bull charity event thing that Christian, the man that had asked him questions, brought him to. Daniel’s there. Not nearly as beautiful as the Daniel that Max was married to, but still stunning. Of course he would still be stunning, it is Daniel.
There’s something sadder about this Daniel that he doesn’t like. A sadness that Max had never seen in his Daniel’s eyes. It’s probably that this Daniel doesn’t have a Max loving him. Pity. He would have to change that… it isn’t cheating if he’s with this Daniel, right? It’s still Daniel technically.
#f1#max/daniel#maxiel#daniel ricciardo#max verstappen#alternate universe switcharoo#a multiverse of max??
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Don't know what this is or if I'll continue/extend/use it in any way in future but I saw this post and it came to me. Shrug
"I want you." Max declared. Daniel laughed, a tad hysterically. This wasn't what he anticipated when Max offered to come over to watch the game.
"Yeah?" Daniel couldn't keep the mirth from his tone and the tingle out of his chest. "Name three of my red flags then. Go on." Daniel snorted. Because there was no way Max was serious.
Max watched him with steady blue eyes before: "You refuse to cut people out of your life after they've hurt you. Always you are giving them opportunities again to hurt you. You talk yourself out of things that benefit you or you are telling yourself that people don't like you, they're just being nice. You isolate yourself when things aren't going well instead of accepting help from me– others." Max listed with laser accuracy, counting off on his fingers.
He didn't for once think Daniel was being sarcastic, if this was a test he was determined to show Daniel he knew him.
Daniel's eyes widened in shock and abject horror. All previous mirth wiped off his face. "Max–"
"I, of course, love you always Daniel. And I love you extra hard when you're being too hard on yourself."
Daniel made a choked off sound in the back of his throat.
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Interviewer: where would you take Max on a date, Daniel?
Daniel, immediately sweating: oh woah a FRIENDLY date!!! As FRIENDS!!!! We’re competitors!!!! We can’t DATE-
Max: ✨🥰✨I want to go to your farm, Daniel 🥰🥰❤️❤️ and we can go dirt bike racing 🥺❤️🥰❤️🎀 and then not go to the next four races ❤️❤️🥰 cause we’re together 🥰🥰🥰🥰 and you broke your collarbone 😈😈😈
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max walked into that cooldown room said welcome to today’s cooldown pod all about how daniel’s never done anything wrong in his life ever
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re: maxiel soulmates— max said in the f1 ‘drivers explain their race number’ vid that his favorite number is 3 and he always used to pick it when racing. he wanted to race with 3 in f1 too, but ofc daniel had it already, so he just decided to make it 33 for double luck. very soulmates coded:)
THEY. LITERALLY. ARE. SO. SOULMATES CODED.
like you can't make this shit up 😭
Daniel: It all started at my very first go-kart race. We couldn’t choose numbers at the time. It was just whatever number they pulled out of a hat and that was ours and it was number 3. And at the time our house number was 3 so I was like, “Oh this is awesome. Cool!” I was following NASCAR and Dale Earnhardt was number 3…...and then we could choose our number in Formula 1 back in 2014, that was obviously my first choice and I got it…Pretty proud to be number 3 actually.
Max: Well my favorite number is 3. I used to always stick a number 3 on everything I was driving or riding but of course, when I got to Formula 1, Daniel already had number 3 so I was like, "Well let's add another 3 and hopefully that adds double luck."
something something soulmates au something something each other's good luck charm
WHAT IF I KMS? WHAT THEN??
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Inspired by Daniel’s silly EA advert… hope someone enjoys!
It’s been a good day. A lot of the drivers hate this stuff, putting on the tap shoes for the sponsors and asking how high, but Daniel- He kinda likes it.
It’s something he’s good at, turning up to a set and being silly, making people laugh and being told good job Daniel. That’s great, perfect. The words give his chest the kind of buoyancy that has him feeling he could float the whole way home.
They’re a reminder that soon enough, he’ll be back in Melbourne where everyone will say his name with the same tenderness the director has given him, but this time wanting the best for him, instead of from him.
“Amazing job today Daniel,” Robert says again now, clapping a warm hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “I think that last part was enough just in the one take. You’re a natural.”
The pleased smile on Daniel’s face spreads easily.
“Cool,” is all he says though, “happy to help, I- Actually mate, I was hoping you’d let me have a little something in return.”
—
“Maxy!” Daniel calls, wrestling with both the front door and the giant box. “Where are you, baby?”
Their house in LA is big, his words bouncing off the walls of the grand entrance hall. Usually, it’s full of friends, sometimes family, but this week for once it’s just the two of them.
“Sofa!” Max shouts back, voice croaky like maybe he’d been napping. He’s probably not left the same spot Daniel left him in this morning. “How was the shoot, was it nice?”
Dumping his keys on the hallway table, Daniel follows the sound of Max’s voice. As suspected, he’s still stretched out across the cushions, belly up like Jimmy when he’s sunbathing in the balcony back home. His hand is shoved down the front of his shorts, but only idly. Daniel can see he’s not hard.
Still, for a moment his gaze gets caught there, before shifting back to Max’s face, his curious expression as he takes in the giant box Daniel is holding.
Right.
“I got you something,” Daniel says, setting it down on the coffee table. He opens it and begins to dig around. “A lot of merch swag and shit, but- Tah dah!”
He pulls out the game, proudly showing Max the box that has his own face on the cover. F1 2024.
“Oh,” Max says, and his smile is as sweet at the two happy pink splotches that begin to warm up his cheeks. “Thank you, Daniel.”
He sits up then, taking the game from Daniel’s hands and holds it like it’s something very special.
It’s not much of a gift really, because Max could get a copy for himself whenever he wanted. His people could call EA, or if he was feeling particularly desperate he could offer to do an ad of his own, but- He wouldn’t.
The only things he’s ever to gone out of his way to get are his championships and Daniel.
“I will have to wait for Lando to get his copy,” Max is continuing, but already he’s moving to crouch in front of their TV, his PlayStation, “or maybe Charles, for the multi-player but-“
“I can play,” Daniel interrupts, picking up the controller from their coffee table. It feels less foreign in his hand after a day being recorded holding it.
Max pauses, game disk spinning on one finger as he turns to look at Daniel.
“You want to play?”
He sounds confused, surprised.
“Sure,” Daniel says, all fake nonchalance. “I’ve even had a head start playing, I might be better than you.”
With a warmth fizzing in his belly, he watches the shock on Max’s face melt into quiet joy. He ducks his head to finish putting the game into the console, and when he takes a seat next to Daniel on the sofa, it’s close enough that their thighs are pressed together. Warm.
“I think if you want to beat me, you will have to hold it like this,” Max pokes at Daniel with a teasing grin, and then his hands are moving gently over Daniel’s to correct where he’s apparently holding the controller all wrong.
Daniel snorts, pushing out an elbow to nudge at the soft place Max’s ribs hide underneath.
“Fighting talk, baby,” he insists with far more confidence than he feels. “Just you wait, you’ll be begging for mercy.”
Max’s laugh is bright.
“Okay but I think we need to look at the settings first,” he begins again, “because of course I have the sensitivity set very high, and-“
Daniel lets Max’s explanations wash over him like music.
—
Later, Daniel manages to finally win a race by shunting Max into the first corner, speeding away while he’s still spinning in the gravel.
“That of course, does not count,” Max insists indignantly, though there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That is cheating, Daniel.”
“Not what you said in Baku baby,” Daniel reminds him, and then pokes his tongue out when Max begins to trip over his protests that he has done nothing wrong, ever.
Daniel begins a loud rendition of ‘we are the champions,’ in favour of listening.
Giving up his attempts to defend himself, Max tosses his controller onto the coffee table with a sharp clatter, instead choosing to crawl over Daniel, pressing him down into the sofa.
“I will show you a fucking champion,” he mutters, his thigh finding its way between Daniel’s legs.
Daniel’s own controller hits the hard wood floor with a thud.
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soooo ... about that frat bros maxiel post @arturleclerc got
Someone joins him by the staircase, but Daniel doesn’t move, keep his eyes on the beer pong match in front of him. There’s a huff, a scruff of their shoe against the sticky floor before they say, “Are you Daniel?”
Daniel hums, sips his beer. Scotty makes another great shot, sinks the ball into the same cup as the previous shot, so Daniel lets out a cheer, quickly echoed by the rest of the room. “To some, maybe,” he says to the guy, takes another sip before he turns to look at him.
The guy in front of him is young, obviously a freshman. There’s a plastic band around his wrist, bright red like one of the fucking, ‘I’m under 21, don’t serve me alcohol’ bracelets the faculty has been trying to introduce. He reckons they don’t really work, watches as the guy sucks down a third of his cup, the stench of tub juice obvious even from a few feet away.
“This is of course not an answer,” the guy says, thick lips soured into a hard line. “So stupid this, will you just tell me?”
“Yeah, alright, pretty boy,” Daniel says. He watches the flush spread over the kid’s cheeks, the wrinkle of his nose before he leans into it too, lips spread wide in a grin “’s a pleasure to meet you, what can I do for you?”
The smile transforms his entire look, softens the sharp angles of his face. He had been handsome before, awkward hot, but now he looks downright pretty. The white tee he wears sits tight on his chest, the peaks of his nipples obvious through the thin fabric. He smells like axe body spray and generic cologne, but Daniel’s fucked enough frat dudes to find it arousing.
His name is Max, and he is a freshman, pre-med like he too is going to save the world.
Daniel brushes his hand against the dip of his waist, lingers when Max doesn’t pull away. Max is taller than him, just a tad, but he fits himself under Daniel’s arm easily, shoulders loose as he talks about the lacrosse team he wants to join, the scholarship he’s expected to get.
“You want another drink, babe?” Daniel asks, watches spellbound as Max mimics the hold of his lacrosse stick, how he has to adjust his hands to make sure his grip is tight, firm against the racket. “Think Scotty has some gin in his room if you want a drink or like –“
Max nods, bites into his bottom lip with flat teeth. “Yes, this would of course be very lovely, Daniel,” he says, chokes on his breath when Daniel slips a hand into the pocket of his shorts to lead him upstairs.
Blake doesn’t have any gin, so he offers Max a shot of the whisky he saves for special occasions. Max doesn’t care, downs the shot and lets Daniel suck the alcohol off his tongue. Daniel holds him by the waist, sweaty palms on sweaty skin, and feels him tremble in his arms, wants desperately to make him lose it.
“You like that, yeah?” Daniel says, taunts, pushes the tip of his thumb in between his lips. Max moans, sucks the finger in between sharp teeth, mouth begging for more as Daniel stuffs another two into it. “You want it?”
Max nods, and his mouth feels silky around Daniel’s fingers, hot and wet. He goes down easy when Daniel nudges him to his knees, fingers falling from his mouth to cradle the curve of his head. His hat lies abandoned on the floor, exposing strands of dirty blonde hair, and Daniel cannot help but tug at it.
Max looks obscene on the floor, strong thighs spread wide forcing his shorts into the crease of his groin. His dick strains against the fabric, hard and untouched.
“Can I, please?” Max begs, nudges his face against Daniel’s dick, hard inside his jeans, and how could anyone say no to that?
Max swallows him down quick, jaw loose and open as he fucks into him slowly, carefully, until he reaches the back of his throat. Daniel feels it more than he hears it when Max groans, clammy hands gripping the insides of his thighs to keep himself steady.
“You’re doing so good for me, babe, taking me so well,” Daniel hums as he thrusts into his mouth, feels how his throat spasms around him. He’s close, almost there, a quick snap of his hips makes Max choke, and that’s it. He pulls out, nudges Max’s head to the side to finish into his own hand, curses himself for not letting him know sooner.
“Fuck,” he groans as his head knocks back against the door, eyes screwed shut as he tries to regain his breath.
“You could of course come in my mouth, Daniel.” Max says. He’s still on the floor, hands resting politely on his thighs like his dick isn’t throbbing in his shorts. “It would be very lovely, I think.”
Daniel curses, coaxes him to his feet and against the door instead. Max doesn’t need much to come. Daniel spits in his hand, uses the leftover come to ease the glide of his hand as he jerks him off, makes him add to their mess.
Daniel sits through a two-hour lecture of the implications of data privacy concerns before he drags himself back to the house. He’s splurged on a latte from the campus shop, but he reckons he’s earned it, scrolls through the notes he had scarcely taken.
Blake joins him on the porch, pushes the plate of leftover pizza into the middle seat. “Hey, did that pledge ever get hold of you last night?”
Daniel grunts, swallows down an entire slice in one go. “Pledge?”
The semester has barely started, the pledges won’t be chosen for at least another few weeks. He still has time before he has to pretend to be a functioning adult who doesn’t have hangovers on Wednesdays.
“Yeah, kid’s trying out for the football team or something,” Blake says, watches him with a frown. “He wanted to know when pledge week would be, make sure it didn’t collide with try-outs.”
Daniel drains the rest of his coffee, wishes he had put another pot on before he went out here. He sucks his teeth, thinks back to the party, to Max and his pale thighs, fat lips spread around the head of his dick, the sounds he made when Daniel made him come bent over the bathroom sink. Maybe it had been obvious that the was on the pull, because no pledge had been dumb enough to approach him.
“He’s a Beta Nu legacy, but he wanted to try something new it seemed,” Blake says, shrugs. “Reckon he’s a good kid, Horner put in a good word for him too, so he’ll probably at least pledge.”
Daniel clicks his tongue, turns his hat to shield his eyes from the sun. He had already been in the lecture hall when he saw it, the pair of embroidered boobs against the white fabric, but he had kept it on. “Did he leave a name at least? Maybe I know someone who can find him.”
There are loads of reasons Daniel had declined the presidency when Seb graduated, kicked it to Blake and settled himself with social chair. He just didn’t know fucking a will-be pledge would become one of them.
“Max, I think is name was.”
#dont look at me please#free me from this mind prison :(#frat bro au#maxiel#maxiel fic#my fic#my writing#max/daniel#fic#frat bros au
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