123pixieaod

[123pixieaod]

we're SO back baby!!!! 🤪

[123pixieaod]

post-singapore maxiel body swap

Max knows before he opens his eyes. He's felt it only once before, but he recognizes the thrum of it, the off-kilter autopilot. He feels it in his blood: spinning through the chambers of his heart in a different direction, branching out in new patterns. He keeps his eyes shut and tries to memorize the rhythm of it, how Daniel's body keeps him alive.

After his first win in 2022, George swapped with Daniel. He always fucking brags about it, reminds everyone how Daniel felt cold, staticky. Which he doesn't. George is probably just used to feeling overheated and undercharged. Max could have won that race if it wasn't for his fucked undertray. Then maybe they would have swapped, maybe Daniel would have been wishing to be him when he fell asleep that night.

It was Max who caused the swap this time, probably. Staying up headache-late, falling asleep before he could stop thinking about Daniel, wondering how he was.

He's only ever swapped with Daniel.

The room is bright. No blackout curtains. No travel on the horizon, no need to block the rising sun.

The bed smells clean and nice. On the nightstand, there's a bottle of water. Glass with a silicone sleeve for a soft landing. Behind it, little white flowers in a little white vase. A phone plugged into its charger.

The lock screen is a new photo: Daniel's arms around his niece and nephew, faces lit orange from the flames of a bonfire. There's a text from someone who says they dropped off eggs.

He should call his own phone. It would be polite. But acknowledging it feels like acknowledging the first time. Waking up in Daniel's body in a warm bed of other bodies, stumbling out into the endless Montana sky, teeth chattering, spending so long wondering how to ask everything he wanted to know---what, how long, why not with me---that he ran out of time to ask anything at all.

So he snoops. Just a bit. He doesn't search his own name on Daniel's phone. He doesn't flip open the leather-wrap journal on the sofa. But he brings in the eggs. He squeezes the ripe fruit on the counter.

Of course you can't tell these things just from looking, but. Daniel seems okay.

There's no Red Bull in the fridge.

On the verandah: a pair of forgotten kids' shoes, a scary spider, a fucking weird bird.

Through Daniel's eyes, Max watches the Australian sun bloom warm and red.

[123pixieaod]

Honesty the only, and I mean this wholly with body and soul, the only good thing to come from all the bs and Daniel being forced out and everytime else, is all these testaments about him. Like it's so lovely that ofc there's the tributes for him from the other drivers and teams and the usual, but it feels extra special that there's also all these tributes from the people in the background, the 'ordinary' folks just working their 9 to 5 in the world of F1. The you and I. It's like all the fans had this silent question, the 'is he really actually as good as he seems?' and now, the translators and photographers and factory crew and all the ordinary people posting are answering. That yes, he really is this good, this kind

[123pixieaod]

Daniel with a fan on his flight home to Perth after the Singapore GP

[123pixieaod]

Max holding umbrella for Daniel in the Singapore rain ☔️ | Singapore GP 2024 🇸🇬

[123pixieaod]

i hope horner and marko know that the man they fumbled so horrifyingly has their 3x world champion drenched and tripping over his own feet to hold an umbrella over him :)

[123pixieaod]

[123pixieaod]

An AU (maybe, possibly) where Max was the one who told Daniel he was losing his seat

(Part 2 of The Smell of Roses)

Max found out in Baku, the same day they told Liam.

“So,” Christian ended, his hand massaging the back of his neck. “If you could keep this to yourself, we would appreciate it.”

They hadn’t wanted to tell him. But after his Instagram post with Daniel in the helicopter, he had to be let in on it. They didn’t want him soft-launching Daniel Ricciardo to the team while they were in the background busy sharpening their hatchet. Mixed messages. Bad PR for an energy drink.

“But you have told Daniel, right?”

For the first time in the conversation, Christian broke eye contact with Max. His shame was heady, almost alcoholic.

-

Rest on ao3!

[123pixieaod]

yeah, i've stopped wondering that this hasn't been in the works for a while now. sure, he had that rbr seat in spa but he lost his vcarb seat when that plan blew up. they knew they were going to let him go after singapore and they've known for some time, they were just hoping they could get away with not telling him until after he'd already had his last race. max knew. there's no doubt in my mind. it's no coincidence this shit first leaked to the dutch press when the rest of red bull was so desperate to keep that shit on lock. he tried to give daniel a last shred of dignity by being the one voice in the crowd saying 'hey, don't feel sorry for daniel. he's accomplished more than of you bitches' from the very beginning of this horrible horrible race weekend. wouldn't surprise me either if max was the one person who finally told him hey, like, it's legit over. no one else had the guts. daniel wasn't going to be in that rbr seat in baku, or in singapore, or after mexico. he was a dead man walking after the summer break. he just didn't know it himself.

[123pixieaod]

ive never seen someone be fired in such a weird way bro even logan sargeant was taken out back with more clarity and grace than this

[123pixieaod]

[123pixieaod]

The Smell of Roses - (post-Singapore)

I can't sleep and I can't not think about Daniel fighting just for that single point for Max :,)))

“I owe you a point,” Max announced as soon as the door opened.

Daniel stared, the light of his kitchen spilling onto the dark corridor, pooling around Max’s feet.

“Max,” he finally said, “mate, what the fuck?”

If you were to ask Max how he ended up outside Daniel’s apartment at 3am on a Tuesday night, he’d give you a couple of options to choose from.

The first is, of course, the race the weekend previous. His radio crackling to life as he meandered along the streets of Singapore, trying to catch his breath. Second place. Sweat soaked through his race suit, clinging to the collar and running down the groove of his spine.

Second place. Not great, but there was no catching to Lando today. Second place. Best of the losers, but sometimes he can’t do any better.

Radio. Christian, congratulating him. Telling him he couldn’t extract anything more from the car. Then, an afterthought.

“And your old pal Daniel picked up the fastest lap at the end as well, Max.”

His beat of silence before he clicked on the radio, saying the only thing he could think. “Thank you, Daniel.”

-

Or maybe the moment started seven years previous. 2016, just after the German Grand Prix. Max’s first podium shared with Daniel. From podium to alone in a Red Bull conference room, a few days later and waiting for a meeting to commence. Daniel, leaning back in the office chair, throwing his cap in the air, catching it. Max sitting across, watching. The arch of the cap, navy and red splitting the air. Higher and higher. Daniel aiming to hit the ceiling and still catch it. Max, just watching. Always watching, always in awe.

“Excited for the race?” Daniel asked lazily, head still tilted back as he caught the cap. Max still watching, free to memorise the outline of his Adam’s apple.

“Sure,” he replied, a beat too slow.

“Just so you know, because you’re actually catching up to me in points now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you win so much now,” Daniel gave Max a smile, joking but also tinged with something cut-throat. Max smiled back, unsure why. A reaction. Flower opening to the sun. A moth fluttering to a flame. Inescapable, unstoppable.

“I’m going to fight for every point,” Daniel continued, tossing the cap up again. It made a soft noise as it finally bumped against the ceiling tile. He whooped, catching it, grinning at Max. “See that?”

“Very impressed.”

“Yeah,” Daniel agreed, setting the cap on his styled curls. Smooth skin, light brushing of stubble. Bright eyes, an even brighter smile. Alight from the inside out. “Just like I caught that cap, I’ll catch all the points. Like a Pokémon trainer, gotta catch them all.” He laughed. “Just so you know.”

“Noted.”

“I’m getting all the points now. The honeymooning period is over, baby!” Daniel grinned, and Max was saved from a reply by the door opening, Helmut finally arriving.

-

Or maybe it was a few years later. Christian inviting Max to have breakfast at his table. Turkey, 2020, and Max had qualified second, but fucked up the start. Second to eight in a single second. Then, after making up precious places, stupidly losing control and spinning. Three pit stops later, and managed to drag the car to sixth place. His only race that season where he finished and didn’t get on the podium. His own fucking fault. Lewis, Checo, Sebastian spraying champagne, and Max ruined his racing gloves by pelting them so hard against the garage wall the seam tore.

“You really should take stock in your sixth place,” Christian said, buttering a croissant. “Eight points are valuable.”

“They’re useless,” Max muttered. Arms crossed, stubbornly refusing to touch his anaemic-looking spinach omelette. “They’re not exactly twenty-five points. Not much against Hamilton’s 307 points.”

If he had come first and Bottas hadn’t finished, he’d have gone up. Elevated finally to second in the championship. His first time ever being just one standing below the victor. But he fucked it. Now, there’s 27 points between him and Bottas. The gap growing, because he’s a fucking idiot driver.

“They’re not useless,” Christian said patiently, reaching for a little pot of jam. “Points are points.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather take home 25 points rather than eight,” Max muttered, and Christian finally looked up, setting down his cutlery.

“Do you know Shakespeare?”

Max wrinkled his nose. “Shakespeare?”

“The English poet,” Christian replied, as if that was a perfectively normal conversation change.

“Of course I do. Romeo and Juliet and all that shit.”

Christian raised an eyebrow.

“Stuff,” Max amended.

“Perhaps you may have heard this quote,” he went on, finally beginning to spread the jam on his croissant. Max watched the action, his pale fingers holding the knife, dragging it back and forth over the buttery flakes. “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Have you heard of it?”

Sometimes, Max forgot his team principal went duck shooting and rode his own purebred horses in his downtime.

“No,” Max said. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s from Romeo and Juliet. And I like to think the quote can be extended also to F1 points. It doesn’t matter how many you get, or even how you get them. As long as you get them. As long as you stop your rivals from achieving them. No matter how many. Even a single point. Points, by any other name, would still smell as sweet.”

Max frowned, utterly lost. “We should call points something different? A codename? Is this like a strategy to confuse the other teams on the radio?”

Christian smiled, eyes creased. “Something like that, sure.”

-

Daniel has a rose tattoo. It’s on his thumb, small and dark and perfect. Max can see it now, the dark lines etched into his tanned skin. He’s holding the door open, fingers against door’s side, thumb facing Max.

A tiny rose.

-

Maybe, he has to go even further back to figure out why he’s here. Back to the very beginning.

At a carting track, sitting on a discarded wheel. His father kneeling in front of him, hand on his knees.

“How could you just like that boy get the better of you?” He was saying, voice low and urgent. “I didn’t raise a pussy, Max. Or did I?”

Max shook his head, but his dad was already continuing.

“Why didn’t you go for that opening at corner five? And don’t act like a bitch and say you were scared of crashing. There was enough space. And if there wasn’t, you make the space. Force the other driver to move. Nine times out of ten, a driver would rather get out of your way than have you crash into him. Why didn’t you push him? You could’ve Max, and then you would have an actual trophy, and not this plastic shit. Second?” He scoffed. “Fastest fucking loser. Say it back to me, Max.”

“Fastest fucking loser,” he mumbled.

“Good. Now, tell me. Why didn’t you do that move? No, don’t shrug like that. I was an answer.”

“I -“ Max’s tongue felt ten times heavier than usual. “I don’t -“

“You do know, because you did it. Tell me.”

“I… I didn’t… We are friends, and I did not -“

“Friends!” His father barked out a laugh, and then leaned close. “Listen Max. There’s no friends in racing. Do you know where having friends lead you too? Here, sat outside on the fucking ground when your friend takes photos with his trophy. It gets you fastest fucking loser. There are no friends in carting, no friends in F1. Nothing is genuine in this sport. And if you think it is, you’ll about to wake up with a knife in your back and dead last in every race. Now, which one would you prefer? Being last and having friends, or winning? Do you want to be a winner, Max?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop being a fucking pussy.”

-

Daniel congratulated him on his second world championship. Hugging him properly, arms wrapped around his shoulder, squeezing. Pulling away to grin.

“You really are the fucking goat,” teasing, but genuine. A warm flush across his already bronze complexion. Hand still clamped on Max’s shoulder. “Congratulations mate.”

Max trying to remember how to reply.

-

Or maybe it was GP trying to get Max to have a sit-down meeting with him on data feedback. 2019, and Max didn’t want to hear any of it.

“Fine. Please, you tell me what you want to do at the next race, and we’ll do it,” GP replied casually, good at hiding his annoyance. “Let me know. Sets, fuel, run plan.”

Max clenched his jaw, and the older man sighed. “Listen, I’m trying to help - “

“I don’t need help,” Max snapped. GP blinked at him.

“Max,” he said softly, as if breaking bad news. “Everyone needs help.”

“I don’t.”

He gave him a look, somewhere between pity and amusement. “Everyone needs help,” he repeated.

-

So yes, if you were to ask how he ended up here, outside Daniel’s door at 3am the weekend after the Singapore GP, Max would say there’s a few reasons.

“I owe you a point,” he repeated stubbornly. “You got the fastest lap in Singapore. You took the point away from Lando and McLaren and their fight for my title. So, I owe you a point.”

“Mate,” Daniel said, blinking, “sorry but let me repeat myself again. What the fuck?”

ao3

[123pixieaod]

HELLO 💕💕💕

One of my fave maxiel stories is back 🥹🥹🥹🥹

I am so happy and so happy that i subscribed to it on ao3 lol

Now I have two? Question

Will this havr a happy ending? we know for maxiel due to the first chapter, but what about the others?

Second one, how many years does this play out over? Like from the very first chapter

Thirdly, will the others ever trust max again? Will we found out more about charles?

Fourth, will there be some more backgrounds thingies about the others?

I love them all and want to know more about them 💕💕🫶

Love it and can't wait for the entire story

Hello!!! Thank you so much for this ask!🫶 and thank you also so much for the kind words, and the subscription!!!! Because my mind is messy and I can't concentrate on one fic haha I have a few maxiel fics floating about, but I'm going to presume you're talking about the xmen one! (If not just send another ask and I'd be more than happy to answer these questions about any other of my fics :))

Question 1 - happy ending?

Haha I'm going to give a very annoying answer and be very vague about this 😅 I think it really depends on how happy you want it, the first chapter is from maxs pov with clear amnesia, so something happens in the final few chapters to give him that sort of condition! But I would consider his ending good, despite that moment! And as for the other characters, I would largely say yes, they do (mostly) get happy ending! After all, I was a Disney child growing up, my mind is prewired for happy endings 😅🥰

Question 2 -how many years?

The main story will be over a year I think? But again, the main story is in itself a flashback of Max's. So overall, the story goes over about 25 years? But a lot of that is Max's past and early memories, and Max's life post-plot!

Question 3 - the others and Charles

The others' trust of Max is very closely linked to Max's trust of them. So i think as the story progresses and he relaxes (and even begins to like some of them!), they return this sentiment and trust him. And yes, I love Charles! I think of him as a sort of foil to Max's character, and he's as important to Daniel to the plot

Question 4 - more background

Yes!!! I loved creating their backstories! They all have their histories, and some will be exploded in further details than others. For example, Charles' background will feature a lot more. Also, I have to thank you because your ask inspired me to stay editing a new chapter! This one has Mick's background, so thank you for this ask and for motivating me 🫶

Thank you again for the ask! I hope I answered your questions, but do let me know if there's anything I should clarify or any other questions! (Or suggestions on characters' backgrounds!) And thank you also for all your kind words and support on the story 🥰🫶

[123pixieaod]

If Danny rics last record on the good book is a FL he pulled out of his ass just to help max against a vastly superior machine driven by his former teammate I truly believe he’s invented a new type of a love . A new type of love

[123pixieaod]

It's just so absolutely crazy how close Max and Daniel got despite the things that happened when they were teammates. Max is essentially the reason Daniel left and his career went spiralling. Max is the one who came in and became the golden child when Daniel was the WDC hope after Vettel. Max who watched Daniel with heart eyes from day 1. Daniel who taught Max they can be teammates and friends at the same time. And he left and they missed each other, went on vacations, and introduced each other to their friends circle, who watched one rise and rise, and the other struggle. And it all, ALL, comes down to "if it's not me, I'm glad it's him" and "thank you, Daniel" ALWAYS

[123pixieaod]

Hey! I just came across your Amnesia AU on AO3 and I absolutely adore it 💖

Hope you are doing well and if you don't mind me asking, will you be continuing the story?

Really love your writing!!

Heya! Thank you so much for the lovely words! Yes I will definitely definitely definitely finish it! I feel like I cannot feel peace until I see a "completed" in its blurb haha.

I'm in the midst of my battling masters, but once I have my dissertation submitted I will 100% dive back into uploads😭💖

In the meantime, this is a snippet from a future chapter which, the god-of-dissertations willing, will be uploaded sometime later this summer!

“Cake.” Max repeats, and then frowns.

“Yes. Would you like some,” Daniel asks slowly, and Max blushes again.

“Oh sorry. Yes. Some cake would be nice.”

Daniel laughs as he leads him to the refreshment table. There’s only a little left, but enough for a slice or two.

“It’s lemon,” he tells Max, a note of pride in his voice. “I have it every birthday.” Normally you’re the one baking it and we can sit in the sun on the balcony of our Monasque flat and eat it together, but beggars can’t be choosers, and you’re here now so that’s enough.

“Oh, no thank you.”

“What?” Daniel frowns at him, knife suspended above the cake.

“I’m okay, but thank you though,” Max repeats politely. “I’ll get some water for myself and -“

“What,” Daniel similarly repeats himself. “It’s cake.”

“I know,” Max smiles. “But I don’t like lemon cake. So it’s okay.”

“You do though.”

His brows knit together. “No I don’t.”

“Yes you do,” Daniel puts down the knife, turning to face Max fully. “It’s lemon cake.”

“I know, you said that already,” Max says, sounding equal parts amused as confused.

“But,” he gestures at it. “It’s lemon cake. You like lemon cake.”

“No I don’t,” Max frowns, and Daniel frowns back.

“Is this something new from the accident?” He asks, and can immediately tell it was the wrong thing to say by how Max’s frown hardens. “It is, like a change in tastes, and -“

“No of course,” he replies in a clipped tone. “My tastes have stayed exactly the same - I just don’t like lemon cake. I’ve never like lemon cake.”

“But you have,” Danie insists. “You always would eat it. You sometimes even baked it, and then you would eat it and-“

“That can’t have been me,” Max says dismissively. “You’re thinking of someone else. I’ve never liked lemon cake. Ask my mother, I don’t like any citrus fruit, even since I was a kid. They’re way too bitter, but especially lemons,” he shakes his head. Daniel realises that in all the years he’s known Max, he’s never actually seen him eat orange or grapefruit or drank margaritas or classic daiquiris or even put lemon juice on his salads. The realisation washes over him, and he looks down at the lemon cake, remembering all the times Max had carefully made it for him because it was Daniel’s favourite cake, all the time he had sat beside Daniel with his own small slice, smiling as Daniel complimented Max on the taste.

“Sorry,” Max says, sounding embarrassed again. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sure it’s a lovely cake, but like I said, I just -“

“But why would you have eaten it before then, if you don’t like lemon cakes?” Daniel interrupts him. Max blinks, and then shrugs.

“Like I said, couldn’t have been me."

[123pixieaod]

hi don’t know if you are still active but are gonna finish the amnesia fic?

Hellooo, I'm so sorry for some reason I stopped getting Tumblr notification for asks?? So I'm only seeing this now😭 Yes I will definitely get back to it! It's probably the most fic which matters most to me, and so if I do nothing else I will see it through haha. I'm sorry for the long delay in updates, I'm currently battling my masters dissertation, and really can't face editing heavy!sad!amnesia chapters alongside editing heavy!sad!history paper, but I fully intend to throw myself back into uploads once I finally am finished the thesis.

Also, I wanted to include the beginning of the next chapter, but honestly it hasn't been written yet, so this is the beginning of a few chapters down the line.

-

There is a party. Ironically, all the time Daniel was just a mid-driver with Mclaren, he craved these after-racing parties, yearned for the opening to just drink himself into his own little oblivion.

And now he’s the winner. He’s the one who should be shouting loudest, celebrating largest. He should be happy.

He just wants to go home.

He sits with George and a few interns they got on well with. George is telling some story about a snowbording accident he got into when he went to the Alps with his girlfriend. Everyone laughs at something. Daniel smiles, a fraction too late.

He’s not here. He’s not listening. He’s just watching Max. Max at another booth, smiling. Rolling his glass methodically, the rim balanced on the sticky table’s surface. Charles and Carlos are seated beside him. Carlos is saying something, his hands animated with Hispanic flair. The other two are listening. Charles is sat between them. His side is against Max’s.

-

It took him a criminally long time to see how Max acted around Charles. But once he did, he couldn’t stop noticing it. The way Max listened to Charles, so intent and focused, the way Max smiled when he saw the other man, the way Max wrapped an arm around Charles’ waist, standing side by side as they both smiled from the podium.

It would make sense. A lot more than him and Max. Charles was younger, for a start. Pretty much Max’s age exactly - no weird, mildly dubious age gap to have to navigate. But beyond that, he was successful. He was young and upcoming, a star not only in the making but already burning iridescently bright. Already it was clear that he and Max were destined to be each other’s biggest rivals, the next Lewis and Sebastian, Hunt and Lauda.

Charles is, also objectively, one of the most handsome men alive. Daniel is not exactly self-deprecating, but even he can appreciate how good Charles looks, how effortlessly he outshines anyone in his periphery. And he can tell Max appreciates it too.