#i miss maxiel

[rbrzoe]

max saying he used grindr...

[mooonchild011]

Yes I love them, yes I am a fan of all of them, yes I do want Danny back.

I am not okay :,)

[overtake]

no man has never been this funny, max

[grogumaximus]

Max Verstappen and Daniel Ricciardo — Singapore GP, 2024

[adimouze]

FP1 was starting and Max was on the phone to the verstappencom admin being like “post those danyul pictures asap pleek”

[formulaocean]

Can’t believe they didn’t ask Daniel Ricciardo if he had ever had dinner at a teammates house. Max apparently hasn’t but Pierre has been to Max’s and we know that Max and Daniel lived in the same apartment building in Monaco at the same time as a teenage Max imprinted on Daniel like a little baby duck-

[lost-in-fandoms]

Maxiel soulmates AU in which people get numbers (numbers, dates, timestamps, coordinates...) on their wrist for important events in their soulmate's life.

For a long time Daniel's parents think he's broken.

They don't use quite those words obviously, but they're worried enough to make him think that there's something wrong with him. It's not unusual to not get soulmarks when you're very young, not many important things happen to toddlers, but when he turns eight and there's still no sign of any, they take him to a doctor. The doctor tells them not to worry, that maybe his soulmate is a late bloomer, or maybe a couple of years younger. They'll come.

When he turns ten, they take him to a specialist, who does all sort of things to him, from drawing blood to reaction tests to even a brain scan, but turns up empty handed. They'll come, is all she can say.

Daniel doesn't really care. He's eleven now, and he thinks all this soulmates stuff is a bit dumb. If you were meant to be with someone, why wouldn't the universe make it easier to find your way to them? Why would it put any sort of numbers on your skin instead of just a pair of coordinates and a date and a big old "MEET HERE" above it? Plus, plenty of people are happy without their soulmate. Some people can't afford to run after the numbers that appear on their skin, and they still find love. Daniel doesn't even want a soulmate anyway.

The day after he turns twelve he gets his first soulmark. It's just a small 2 on the inside of his wrist, but his mom cries over it. Daniel bites at it when he's alone in his room, before it disappears, wishing his soulmate could feel it.

They come more often after that, mostly random numbers and dates, but one day, when he's sixteen, a pair of coordinates. He tells himself he doesn't care, he's just curious, but he still looks them up. Turns out it's some place in northern France and, without his consent, his brain starts conjuring an image of his soulmate: a pretty french girl, with a long brown braid.

He's in Italy when he gets the second pair of coordinates, after a few years of just incomprehensible numbers, and for a moment he doesn't know how to react. She's in Italy too. Not that far away from him actually. He could probably take a train there, or a bus, if he wanted to.

But he doesn't want to. He has things to do, and he doesn't care about his soulmate anyway.

The coordinates keep coming from time to time, among the numbers. They're almost always scattered around Europe (France, Spain, Italy, Belgium....) and even when he knows he could probably get there in a reasonable amount of time he never goes.

He has gotten into the habit of recording all the soulmarks he gets in a small notebook his mom had given him years and years ago, just out of curiosity. Sometimes, when he's feeling particularly lonely, he goes through the pages, rubbing his finger over the recorded dates and numbers.

Sometimes he wonders what she gets from him. Did she get the date of when he got into a kart for the first time? Maybe the coordinates of the first race he won? The number of his first Formula Renault car?

Some other times he tries to make sense of all the numbers he got (2, 18, 3, 24, 30, 110, 1...), wonders if she maybe moves around a lot and those are the numbers of her hotel rooms, or her address, of her seat on a flight. Usually he remembers he doesn't care before he can find any pattern to it.

One thing that he was not ready for when he finally reaches Formula 1 is how many questions about soulmates he was going to get. Reporters are of course always asking if he has "found her yet", but even the drivers are nosy, asking if he plans on getting to her next coordinates, or if he has figured anything out about her. Sebastian tells him about the time he had found his soulmate, when they were both still in high school. She had gotten a timestamp, something Daniel has never gotten, and when the time had come she had found herself sitting next to Sebastian on a bus. There had been no date, but it hadn't been necessary. They had both just known.

Daniel tries his best to never talk about soulmates with Sebastian again.

He still writes all the dates and numbers (he recently added a 33 to his collection) in his notebook, but, as he tells anyone who asks, he's here to race, not to go on a wild goose chase. If it happens it happens, if not, he'll still be happy.

Max is both quieter and louder than Sebastian. He's awkward and a bit shy, but when Daniel manages to make him laugh for the first time he's so loud Daniel almost startles. Max has a bracelet over his wrist, covering the spot where his soulmarks must appear. Daniel doesn't ask about it.

In Spain, after the race, Daniel finds the day's date on his wrist. It looks a little bigger than usual, maybe, but he doesn't know what that could mean. He doesn't really care. It's funny though how many people seem to be having an important day that day.

Max asks about his soulmate only once. They're in Malaysia and they're both drunk and Daniel is starting to consider if it's morally and physically wrong to get both him and Max another shot when Max brings it up.

"Your soulmate..." he says, finger almost touching the 2 on Daniel's wrist. Daniel tenses, doesn't know if he wants Max to draw back or draw closer, but Max does neither thing, just hovering there. It feels like standing a little too close to an old cable TV, and Daniel drags his arm away.

"What about her?" he asks, harsher than he meant to be. He sees Max stiffen a little, but doesn't really care. He doesn't want to have this conversation, especially not here and not now.

"Do you think you will want to find them one day?" There's something in Max's voice, something too complicated for Daniel to decipher. If Max is still able to have a coherent conversation about soulmates, it means Daniel is going to have to get him that shot.

"I don't care," he says, hoping Max gets from his tone that the conversation is over. When he sees him frown and open his mouth again though, he knows he's going to have to deviate further.

He pushes his shoulder against Max's, jostling him before slinging his arm around his neck, subtly pointing at the people around the club.

"Besides," he murmurs directly in Max's ears. He feels him shiver and press closer, so he raises his voice slightly. "Why would I need some French girl, when there's plenty of available ones here, yeah?"

He feels Max freeze against him, but he's already pushing off, laughing. As far as he's concerned, this conversation is over. He has drinks to drink and girls to kiss. He's a winner today, who cares about all this bullshit anyway?

Max never asks again.

From time to time, Daniel feels him looking, but Max is always looking at him anyway. It's easy to ignore when his wrist is the object of his focus.

Things start seriously going downhill during 2018. The car is unreliable, the team's focus has clearly shifted to Max, Daniel feels rejected and disrespected. Things with Max are still mostly good outside the track, but in the garage the tension is rising and rising. Daniel knows it's going to snap, everyone knows it, he just isn't expecting it to snap because of him crashing in the back of his own fucking teammate.

He's never felt like this, livid with rage and so much disappointment he doesn't even know how to deal with it. He's mean in the interviews, angry in the debrief, snappy with Michael. When he sees Max walking towards him while he's trying to leave the paddock, a hole in the shape of his fist left behind, he glares hard enough to make anyone run. But not Max, of course. He tries to talk to him, tries to explain, again, why it wasn't his fault. Daniel just tells him to get lost, barely stops himself from raising his fist again.

He's had enough. Of the car, of the team, of Max. He wants to be left alone. Obviously though the universe has decided that he's not suffered enough for a day, because when he finally gets to his hotel room there are numbers on the inside of his wrist. Coordinates.

Without really meaning to, he finds himself looking them up. Closing the tab, opening it again, carefully putting them in, once, twice, three more times.

Baku. The coordinates are in the paddock.

He feels nauseous. His hands are shaking when he goes to grab his notebook. Everything suddenly makes terrible sense. Not getting soulmarks for so long, the coordinates all around Europe, the karting numbers. Spain 2016. The 33.

He turns the pages, hoping the numbers will change, hoping he is making it all up. Irritatingly though, Sebastian had been right once again. He just knows. His soulmate isn't some pretty girl waiting for him in France.

His soulmate is Max Verstappen.

[verstappentime]

here's a bit of random divorce verse scene for everyone during this hard week. max is taking care of dan, don't worry ❤️ we find our boys at the suzuka. max is there with charles and daniel didn't know he was coming.

⇢ ⇢ “Daniel.” Max’s voice behind him should be startling, but maybe he’s been expecting him to show up all night. “It’s late.”

Daniel kicks his feet in the pool water, watching the fluorescent blue ripples. He doesn’t look up. “What are you doing here?” he asks, no bite to it.

“Of course I am looking for you.” Max winces as he lowers himself to sit beside Daniel. “If I zoom in really far I can see your dot is near the pool.”

“Can’t sleep,” Daniel says. “Why were you looking for me?”

Max doesn’t answer. “Charles can never sleep here either. I’ve always slept in his room.”

“It’s weird,” Daniel says, swallowing. He looks at the sky instead of at Max. It’s still surreal that he’s here.

“Ghosts,” Max says. He moves closer, deliberately, so their thighs touch. “He’s worse this year. It’s why I came. I think probably it’s my fault.”

“Makes sense.” He can’t think about Max being compared to Jules or he’ll go fucking insane.

Max wraps his hand around Daniel’s wrist, like he knows Daniel needs to know he’s alive. “Let me take you to your room,” Max says, all soft. Daniel lets himself look; he’s in his sleep shorts and a ratty t-shirt, black with a huge bleach stain. He looks soft, too. “I will help you sleep.”

“Okay,” Daniel says, because he’s tired and heavy and Max is here. He lets Max tug him to his feet. He’s getting stronger.

He half-expects Max to lead him to the elevator, but he lets go. No, he wants to say. Be connected to me again, please.

God. Max had shown up here, halfway across the world, and he hadn’t even warned him.

They don’t talk in the elevator, Daniel leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. He can feel Max watching him up close, the way he stops and starts. He must be doing something on his phone.

The elevator dings. “Uh, it’s this way,” Daniel tells him. He feels itchy. He hadn’t even let himself think about— this.

Another time, he would’ve been stealing Max off Charles for something else. Something good.

Max shuts the door behind him. “Your room is smaller than ours,” he says.

He doesn’t like that word. Max shouldn’t share things with people that aren’t him. “It’s nice,” he says, sitting on the end of the bed.

“I will take care of you now, okay?” Max says, quiet. Daniel just blinks at him.

He wants to laugh. You’ve fucking cored me like an apple, Max, I can’t love anyone else and I’m fucked, and I messed this up, and I won’t be better until you come home. But he just says, “okay,” because that’s what Max prompted. Because he wants to let him try.

“Okay,” Max says again, and he fucking— kneels down and starts untying Daniel’s shoe.

His movements are so much easier than a couple months ago. It’s taking him concentration — it’s a dextrous task — but he pulls the knot free. “You can’t wear these to bed,” he says, like that makes it make sense.

“You don’t have to,” Daniel blurts.

“I know,” Max says. He kisses the inside of Daniel’s knee, unties his other shoe, pulls it off. Sets them gently to the side.

Something about it is making Daniel desperately homesick. He’s not sure for where. He can’t help stroking Max’s hair, thumbing behind his ear. His throat is too thick for talking.

Max soothes a hand under his shorts, over the top of his thigh. “Do you want these off?” he asks.

God. Daniel can’t believe he’s sad enough to not be getting hard at this. “It’s okay,” he says, because that might not last forever. “Come up here.” He offers Max a hand, which he takes, letting Daniel hoist him up.

“Let me,” Max says, tugging at the hem of Daniel’s shirt.

“Okay,” he says, again, and lets Max pull it up over his head. He reaches out, grabbing Max’s wrist. He doesn’t mean to. He just— he feels unmoored and he needs to be anchored back to him.

He knows Max is here for Charles. He said. But his heart just keeps asking whywhywhywhy. You flew halfway around the world. You knew I would be here. You knew.

Max looks down at Daniel’s hand and he must get it a little bit because he says, “I’m right here, Daniel.” But he’s been gone and Daniel isn’t alright, and he didn’t know if Max would touch him like that again. “Do you– do you want me to get you a different shirt?”

“I— Yeah.” Daniel clears his throat. “I can get one.”

“No,” Max says, stubborn. “I want to. You’re tired.” He rifles through Daniel’s bag, probably messing everything up. He comes back with the most generic, plain red T-shirt money can buy. It’s his own, and there’s no way he doesn’t know it. Daniel doesn’t buy things in packs of three.

Max hands the shirt over. Daniel thanks him again as he pulls it over his head. He wishes Max would dress him. He’s never wanted anything like that before.

“Can I stay here?” It’s so weird, Max asking him for stuff like this. Back before everything, back when he was young and nervous and telling himself he wasn’t, he would always insist, push himself into Daniel’s space, root himself to a place there.

“I thought you needed to be with Charles.”

“He’s okay. He was sleeping when I left.” Max takes his phone out of his pocket, ticks the volume on. “I texted him to call if he needs me.”

Daniel imagines him waiting for Charles to sleep so he could slip away and find him. Max, Max, Max, why are you here.

“Okay. Yeah. Stay then.”

Max smiles. He looks shy. I fucking love you, Daniel thinks. “Let’s lay down, okay? And I will help you sleep.”

“Hold on.” Daniel carefully tugs the duvet off the bed, leaving just a thin blanket, because Max runs hot and is like a fucking furnace at night. He had to start asking hotels for extra blankets since Silverstone.

Daniel lays down; Max gets the lights and slips in beside him, half-sitting up against the pillows. “I want to hold you,” Max says. So Daniel rests his head against Max’s chest, next to where his heart is thumping. It’s an uncomfortable way to sleep, for Max, but he offered. Maybe he’ll wait for Daniel to fall asleep and leave, like he did with Charles.

Max wraps his arms around Daniel’s chest, squeezing, pressing his nose into Daniel’s hair. I miss you, he’d said, a month ago now. He’d said it hurt.

“You did this for me,” Max says. “When we got home from the hospital. You took off my shoes and you dressed me and put me in bed. You said to wake you up if it hurt and you slept with me, and held me, and–” He swallows, and Daniel feels it ripple. “It was so nice, Daniel. It was so nice. At the hospital I felt so awful and I didn’t like everyone helping but it was okay because it was you.”

“Baby–”

Max keeps talking. “You did it a lot of times and you brought me my medicine and helped me sit up to brush my teeth and helped me shower. I was sad and everything hurt and sometimes I was angry and I never said thank you and I never did it for you, Daniel. I never took care of you.”

“I didn’t need–” He doesn’t know what he was going to say. You to thank me or to be taken care of.

“You looked so sad today,” Max says, forging on, stubborn. “You are skinny and you look tired. And I am trying to remember if you looked like that when I saw you last but my memory is shit. So I want– I want to take care of you now.”

[autmayy]

you’re they are my everything 🤍

[blairdii]

the [un]official f1 entanglement web.

[overtake]

This is a super short (550-ish words) snippet from the maxiel hockey au I got 30k into before life got in the way. I’ll probably never finish it, so have this random scene. For context, Daniel is staying at Max’s home because he has an ankle injury and the only bedroom at his own place had stairs.

Daniel hears Max before he sees him. Based on the frantic pounding down the stairs, you’d think Max was being chased by a fucking murderer.

“Daniel,” the shadowy figure in Daniel’s doorframe says in a shaky, frantic voice. Daniel hasn’t kept his door shut since the cats first started scratching at it and demanding to be let in, and he briefly wonders in the recesses of his sleep-addled mind if Max has ever Edward from Twilighted him and just watched him sleep.

“Hmmph?” Daniel manages. His brain is thick and sluggish through the foggy, sleep haze surrounding it. He tries to prop himself up on one elbow and immediately fails.

“There’s a spider in my room,” Max hisses, as if he’s scared the spider might somehow hear him and immediately attack. “Can you come kill it?”

“I am not walking up stairs right now,” Daniel groans. It was a brutal PT session, and he spent half his afternoon with his ankle wrapped in ice and elevated. Plus, he’s not exactly fond of spiders either.

“I can’t sleep in there,” Max says, and Daniel wants so badly to make fun of him, but there’s an edge of real panic in his voice. Also, Daniel is even more scared of far more embarrassing shit, so he’d never win.

“Stay in here,” Daniel says, reaching an arm behind him to flop at the empty space. “Plenty of room.”

Max only hesitates for a second before crawling in. “Are you sure?” he asks, like he isn’t already sticking his cold toes against Daniel for warmth.

“The terrors will probably kill the spider by morning for us,” Daniel says, letting his head drop back onto his pillow.

“Jimmy and Sassy are not terrors. It’s not nice how you talk about them,” Max says primly as a crash echoes from somewhere upstairs. Daniel doesn’t dignify him with a response.

He feels Max’s weight settle behind him, and a hand reaches out as his eyes drift back shut and lightly caresses his exposed shoulder. “Thank you, Daniel.”

In the morning, Daniel wakes up to find Max curled in a ball around a pillow he somehow stole from under Daniel’s head, quietly letting out cute little snores. Sassy is lying content on the floor nearby with half a dead spider dangling out her mouth.

“That’s your problem to collect and throw away,” he tells a sleeping Max. He’s got freckles on his shoulders, Daniel notices, a whole constellation of them decorating the broad, pale canvas.

He fights the urge to trace the space between them and instead collects Max’s morning Red Bull from the fridge. He leaves it to drip condensation on the bedside table closest to Max’s pillow-creased face, next to a little note that Daniel is out for his morning walk.

Max texts him twenty minutes in to his stroll.

Max Verstappen: thanks for the red bull. okay if i stay again if we don’t find the spider? It was huge.

Daniel gnaws at his cuticle, contemplating his response for half a second. It’s not like he has proof that spider was the one Max saw. Sassy probably got rid of the evidence, so he can’t ask. He doesn’t want to make Max sleep in a room that makes him anxious.

Daniel Ricciardo: Of course. Better to be safe. That spider could be deadly.

Max Verstappen: Need your Australian powers to scare it off

Daniel Ricciardo: 🤺🤺🤺

When he opens the kitchen bin later that day, he sees the body of the spider sitting on the top.

“Crazy girl. You learned how to open the bin,” he coos to Sassy, aiming for a head scratch she runs away from and pretending he doesn’t see the very human tissue wrapped around the remains.

[issi-loves-dannyric]

My words were “What the fuck” lovingly

-

I don’t the kid so I covered his face out of respect. I know Daniel didn’t but I’m a complete stranger and felt weird if I didn’t.

[maamfrankiecrisp]

[lost-in-fandoms]

Hello hello helloooo!

I'm sick, tired, done with working so many hours but I wanted to say I MISS YOU and I miss reading your fics because they're often the highlight of my days. I think about your AUs a lot while I'm working (my way of trying not to stress myself) ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Also, I hope Daniel and Max are cuddling together after a lot of kisses and a lot of slices of pizza and a lot of laughter, the two of them in bed tangled together while they talk about nothing and everything ❤️

SENDING YOU THE BIGGEST HUG EVER 🥰❤️ You're amazing ❤️❤️❤️

you are so sweet and kind and i love you so much!!!! 💕you are always so kind about my writing and I hope work gets easier so you can come back because i miss you too!!!

the way i had just opened and closed a blank post because I wanted to write but couldn't find the words when you sent this!!! And suddenly i wanted to write again!!

This is soft but maybe not quite as filled with laughter and food as you would have liked. I still hope you like it 💕

Max closes the door of the motorhome behind him with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and taking off his cap, abandoning it on the small couch and heading straight for the shower.

He is tired. The race wasn't that physically demanding, nothing out of the ordinary, despite being fairly warm, but he is mentally exhausted. He's tired of feeling like he's having to fight the car at every corner, tired of not being heard, tired of having to drag the team over the finish line week in and week out. It's not fair and it's not how it used to be, and now that he's seen how good things can be, it's harder to handle this newfound struggle.

He's roughly drying his hair with a towel when he hears the door opening and closing again, something heavy dropping on the floor, then steps coming towards the bathroom.

"Hey," Daniel says, smiling softly at him. He's already showered, either in his own motorhome or before the team debrief, and Max takes a moment to be irrationally sad about it. He knows it's silly, since he is out of the shower already, but any missed opportunity to be under the spray together has to be mourned a little.

"Hey," Max replies, closing his eyes as Daniel cups his cheek with one hand, dragging him into a kiss.

He doesn't open them again when Daniel takes the towel from him, doing a much gentler job of drying his hair, feeling himself finally starting to relax, shoulders dropping.

"You did well out there," Daniel murmurs, putting down the towel and tangling his fingers in his damp hair, letting Max lean forward until his forehead hits his shoulders.

Max huffs, shaking his head slightly. He doesn't disagree, not really, he knows he has driven to the best of his abilities, but it was not enough. It's never enough these days, no matter how hard he tries. It feels shitty to complain about it when Daniel has been fucked over again, though.

"You did too," he says instead, moving his head to be able to drag his lips on the exposed skin at the base of Daniel's neck into what barely would count as a kiss. "Very good on the tires."

He feels more than hears Daniel's chuckle, his arms wrapping around Max's still naked waist to drag him closer in a proper hug. It feels like the first real moment of respite in the whole day.

"Have you eaten yet?" Daniel asks after a while, loosening his hold but not letting Max go completely. Max stays where he is, not quite ready to move away, humming.

"Had what Rupert prepared, but I still have some electrolytes to go."

This time Daniel does pull back, meeting Max's eyes with a slight frown, but Max stops him before he can say something. He doesn't want to have this conversation again, not now.

"He's keeping my weight under the limit. It's fine."

He watches as Daniel's mouth twists, thinks about the pizzas Daniel has been eating this weekend while he's been on a strict chicken and broccoli diet, the resentment he feels about it a guilty stone in his stomach, but Daniel doesn't push it.

Max hopes it's because Daniel doesn't want to have the same argument again either, and not because Max looks as miserable as he feels.

Daniel's expression softens again, and he leans forward to press a kiss on Max's cheek. Embarrassingly, Max feels his throat close up, tears threatening to choke him.

He's not going to cry, he's not, but he is so tired.

Something must show on his face because Daniel tugs him closer again, a hand wrapped around the back of his neck and the other on the base of his spine, letting Max lean against him again.

"Drink and then bed?"

It's early still, barely 9 pm, and Max feels guilty about having Daniel take care of him like this, but he still finds himself nodding,

Later, when they're both under the covers, he drags Daniel over him, using him as his personal weighted blanket. They can't sleep like this, Daniel gets too restless and Max gets too hot, but it's comforting to bury his nose in Daniel's hair, Daniel's hand tracing patters along his side.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Daniel asks gently, his cheek moving against Max's chest.

Max hesitates. He knows that Daniel would accept either answer. He would be content with a no and he would listen to all of Max's complaints if he said yes, would agree with him that the team has been fucking up over and over, would probably tell Max he has every right to be upset.

But Max doesn't want to put all of that on Daniel, after what was already a shitty race. They can debrief and be angry together tomorrow, when they're both less sensitive about it all, after a good night of sleep.

"No, not yet," he answers, pressing a kiss against Daniel's head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Daniel shakes his head, his answer more expected than Max's. Daniel almost never wants to talk about his own race right away, even when Max spends hours ranting about his, hands flying in the air.

"Want to watch something?" Daniel offers instead.

Daniel ends up picking some funny movie he's seen several times and Max never before, mouthing some of the lines against Max's shoulder as they sit on the bed together, both of them shaking with giggles.

At some point, Max's head ends up against Daniel's chest, his eyes heavy, as he struggles more and more to keep up with the plot. He knows Daniel usually would wake him up, hates when Max falls asleep during movies, but this time Daniel just cards his fingers through Max's hair, keeping him close.

"I'm proud of you," he whispers, words melting down Max's spine like warm water, loosening his muscles.

"You too," he manages to mumble back, barely audible, letting himself melt even further.

It's not perfect, can't be perfect when they're both struggling so hard with their cars, when they can't spend as much time together as they would like, when sometimes all Max wants is to drag the both of them away from it all. But it's close enough to perfect, falling asleep in Daniel's arms.

[twslug]

“@/danielricciardo corrupting the kids again 🙄🤣”

via natalie_pinkham

[aston14s]

are you guys normal or do you guys also think about “hi my name is max! i love you daniel, i love you.” at least 3x a day?