#mv1 rec

[leclerced]

heyy i was wondering if you remember an account that wrote the crazy cat lady for verstappen? i was trying to find it but i think they deleted it ok it something

crazy cat lady?? im not sure. ill tag my recs if u wanna look through it! if any anons recognize the fic pls come thru 🫶🏻

[saffusthings]

and if i said my heart just turned into a ball of fluff, what then.

Max Verstappen and Secret Santa [no warnings]

Day 2 of the Vetteltea Advent Calendar

“Is this my one?” Your voice carries through the small barrage of producers and videographers, a camera transfixed onto your face as you lift the package, attempting to figure out what content was inside of the box.

You were exhausted; despite wrapping up the championship a month ago, simply focusing on obtaining more and more points for Red Bull Racing’s reputation, the tracks had been tough and jet lag increasingly aggravating. Abu Dhabi was the end of the road, one step closer to falling back home into your own bed. However, you could not hide the elation which fell onto your face as the Formula One media team had pulled you aside, letting you know it was time to film the reveal. 

You had been so excited to purchase your present this year; Yuki was always a fantastic pick, having selected him a set of chef knives and a hat, printed with a photo of himself and Pierre. Now, as the deep blue box was handed into your grasp, you couldn’t help but feel your heart race, gently shaking the box, determined to figure out the content.

“It sounds…heavy?” You try to give the best description possible to the woman standing behind the camera, urging you to unwrap the present in your hands. The temptation overrides, slipping your fingers through the silky bow and beginning to unwrap the formal packaging. “Whoever wrapped this…” you trail off. “Got it wrapped professionally. I don’t think any of us could wrap a present this good.” 

The paper eventually falls away, the camera adjusting as you place down the box upon the table, lifting the lid. Immediately, your eyes furrow together, and then soften in confusion, grasping around the item which you had been gifted. 

There, laid upon a pile of soft purple tissue paper, rested a Polaroid camera. It was small, coloured an off-white and was almost identical to the previous one you had owned. 

“What did you get?” The woman behind the camera had prompted, urging to get the content required for the Secret Santa video. Your trance upon the item is snapped away, blinking rapidly and looking up the lens trained on your reaction. 

“It’s a Polaroid camera and a bunch of film!” You lift the camera, showing it to the team, the smile on your face ever-present. “I bring a Polaroid to every race and take a photo but…someone broke it.” Your mind flickers back to your teammate, how he had insisted he could take a photo for Zandervoot; it was his home race after all. He had been nothing but apologetic, though that wouldn’t bring back your camera. 

“Who do you think got it for you? It must be someone who knows you well?” The woman prompts you to continue whilst your fingers trace over the device, elated that somebody must have understood the importance and value held to the memories you capture. 

“I mean…” you trail off. “A lot of us are close. It has to be someone who knows I do it…Daniel, maybe?” You think about the smiley Australian; how the two of you had bonded over your love of taking photos during global travels. The synchronized shake of the team signified you must have been wrong. It wasn’t Daniel. “Maybe Pierre?” He was almost always insistent on being in your photos, after all. 

“Think closer to home.” You misunderstand the woman for a moment, thinking of your neighbor in the city of Monte Carlo.

 “Valtteri?” Though, you’re almost certain he wouldn’t have got you this. You’re so certain it’s time to give up, lifting the camera out of its box, your attention being drawn immediately to the small Polaroid card being left underneath the device. 

There was a photo, a photo of a man holding up a white piece of card, his scrawling hand-writing undeniably recognisable. In lettering, he had spelt out one word, ‘date?’ 

There’s two more underneath, one with the driver holding a thumbs up, the other a thumbs down. You can’t help the grin returning to your face as you look up from the box, seeing his figure sitting a mere meter away from you, eyes trained on you, a smile on his face at the realization you had finally clocked. 

“Max.” You finally solve the problem, subtly slipping one of the Polaroids into your hand as the team take a few establishing shots, thanking you for being part of their marketing and turning their attention to your teammate, adamant on filming his segment next. 

Before they can, you subtly slide past his table, tracing his knuckles and resting the Polaroid in his lap, moving away before he can realize what has happened. Instead, he focused on the photograph in his hand, seeing his own figure staring back with a thumbs up. 

The last thing he sees is you turning the corner, still clad in Red Bull Uniform, a subtle wink thrown in his direction as you leave him to unwrap his own present, undeniably thinking of unwrapping something better later.

[a-lecstappen]

Lestappen au where Charles is a reporter who lives to torment Max with questions so absurd they make the Dutchman question his life choices.

"Do you think your car would perform better if it didn’t have to carry the weight of your confidence everywhere?"

“Do you think your ego has its own zip code?”

Max tries to stay cool, but Charles’ smirk is a red flag he can’t ignore.

[georgiasbrainstuff]

Younger Charles Leclerc is too expensive

Inspired by Frechheit, the absolutely brilliant fic (cough novel cough) by @additiva. I don't think I did it justice at all, but I had to try.

[2handsslan]

max verstappen // mv1 fic recs

———————————— 🏎️🏎️ ————————————

one shots

fluorescent - @scuderiahoney

“motorsport is a dog eat dog world, and you know that better than most. it’s not often you meet someone who understands, who shines a light on all the darkness, but max might just be the perfect person for it”

first loser - @itsgodepi

“in the wake of a disastrous race, you're caught under the media's unforgiving glare. your every move and word being dissected for days on end as you simply try to navigate your rookie year in formula one. It is just your luck that your opponent in this fiasco is none other than the famously outspoken max verstappen, whose relentless jabs only add to your frustrations”

zandvoort, nl - @frogstappen

“you watch max's home race from the red bull garage”

a different light - @userlando

"you weren’t just friends. friends didn’t touch you the way he did (or the one where max has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with his best friend)"

coming of age - @keerysfreckles

“in which a silly bet between the two redbull drivers becomes a reality when y/n wins the first race of the 2024 season”

tying you to me - @pierregazly

“[4 times] in which something coincidentally led back to max, and the [1 time] it turned out nothing was just a coincidence (in which everything has always tied max to you)”

denial is a man’s best friend - @marlenesluv

“ y/n and max have been friends since karting years, and now? now, they’re teammates at redbull. they are one of the best teammate duos in the grid, but what happens when max catches feelings?…or when everyone but them notices they are in love but themselves”

baby steps - @forteafy

“you've always been mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. all it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all”

pick you up - @scuderiahoney

“when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls”

temptations - @no-144444

“you and max are on break and things get out of hand. nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?”

never an interruption- @fastandcarlos

“you’re all ready to celebrate max’s win with him, only when you find someone already there to celebrate, you begin to question the role you truly play in max’s life”

little big fan - @thef1diary

“your daughter runs off while you were in the middle of grocery shopping because she spotted max, her favourite driver. meeting you, max wants to know everything about you and your six year old. so of course he finds excuses to keep meeting you, starting with inviting you to the dutch grand prix”

series

rule breaker series - @coff33andb00ks

“max has it all...right? besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. until... you moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles”

smau

yuck! series - @maxlarens - smau

“your aesthetic interest in max verstappen is purely professional, you swear”

won gold - @maxverstappendefender - smau

“olympic snowboarder!gf x mv1 (max being a complete simp for someone that doesn’t even know him)”

miami baby - @norrisainz33 - smau

“actress and avid f1 fan visits the paddock for the first time and she is a certain world champion’s celebrity crush”

worlds biggest fan - @astonmartinii - smau

“y/n is the president of the official max verstappen fan club, but nothing can come of that, right?”

*these are part of my fic rec masterlist, please note none of these are written by me and the author of each story had been tagged! check out my f1 fic rec masterlist for other drivers!*

[maxipad33]

hook, line, sinker by cazio / @chubbydino

At least he finally knew what Daniel wouldn’t tell him: some sins left a permanent stain so dark even strangers could read their warning.

cover version under the cut

[amaranthineghost]

I am absolutely in love with all ur writing so I hope u have good taste too! Do u have any blogs or fics that u’d recommend, I feel like I’ve read almost everything on F1blr? Thank u ☺️

AMARANTHINEGHOST'S FIC RECS!!!! <333

THANK YOU SO MUCH <333 i hope i have good taste too, but then again i think i'm easy to please !!! there's probably a fair amount i can recommend, but we will start with this for now...! took the wrist brace off for this one

and instead of just adding to the list, i'll keep in mind some whenever i come across them and make a new list!!! all credit goes to the people i tagged!!!

CHARLES-

fluff

make a wish by @mclqren

whos child is that by @cynical-ghost

smut

you're my fucking star by @va1entinesg4l

LANDO-

fluff

tan lines by @va1entinesg4l

everybody talks by @povlnfour (also any and everything by her, she's amazing)

lunch preferences by @doromoni

you stole it by @mirohlayo

steps to you by @oofthwoods

smut

mischief by @landosjpg

i'll do anything you tell me to by @uglyducklingofthe2000s

ridiculous by @luvth0t

MAX-

fluff

okay mr championship by @sweeterlovers

flowers are a language of their own by @lightsoutletsgo

ending the war by @princepiastri

LOGAN-

fluff

glitter bomb by @verstarppen

the alex albon approval test by @planetpiastri

fruit cutter hearts by @foreveralbon (anything by her is good, trust)

[shootingstar-scuderia]

they're so silly i can't 😭😭😭

jealous max and/or jealous trouble!!!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You were barely gone a few minutes before someone took your seat.

It wasn’t often you attended these events, mostly due to the fact it wasn’t often that Max liked to actually accept the invitation for them. But this one was mandatory and Christian had made it clear that he expected Max to make an appearance, and even dragged you into it too before Max tried to use Auggie as a scapegoat out of the event. 

So, against his better judgement, Max dusted off the same suit he wore to these events and splurged a stupid amount on a dress for you because, “if I have to attend this stupid event, at least give me something pretty to stare at, Trouble”. 

You had been sat in the seat beside him the whole night, trying your hardest to not laugh at the snarky comments he was whispering in your ear about other guests. You happily sat off to the side as a multitude of guests approached him because he was Max Verstappen and he was one of the most desired men in the room. 

You had squeezed his knee and muttered about going to the bathroom whilst he was finishing up a conversation with Christian and a potential sponsor, thinking nothing of it.

Except when you returned, some leggy model was in your seat. 

From the way Max was talking enthusiastically and moving his hands in wild motions, you knew he was talking about racing. You knew she had probably used it as a way to get into conversation with him. A part of you wanted to snort if she thought that was going anywhere when Max could talk to a brick wall about racing with how passionate he was.

And bless his heart, Max didn’t notice her ulterior motives. He didn’t think anything of someone discussing racing with him. He didn’t notice the way she laughed a little too hard or kept flicking her hair over her shoulder or the way her hand kept inching closer and closer to his on the table. 

You had no reason to doubt Max, but it didn’t stop a bitter feeling bubbling in your stomach—an urge to remind her that Max wasn’t interested. 

You made your way back towards the table with a sense of purpose in your stride. You didn’t even say anything as you reached the table, not even bothering to say a word to the model as you planted yourself on Max’s lap with an ease that came from being in a familiar position. 

Max didn’t even hesitate as his arms wound around your waist, as he shifted his legs so it would be more comfortable for you. But the model thought otherwise. 

“Uh, excuse me?” She said with a strained smile as she glanced between you and Max. 

“Sorry, my seat was taken,” you stated simply, your gaze not shifting away from hers as she squirmed a little in his seat. 

Max laughed a little, seemingly to finally catch on with the situation. “I’m not complaining,” he said with a cheeky grin. 

The model didn’t say much more after that, running off soon after with some shitty excuse and her tail between her legs. You watched her with narrowed eyes, making sure she returned to whatever table she had come from before your attention shifted back to your boyfriend. 

However, his grip on your waist only tightened before you could move off as he looked up at you with an amused expression on his face. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he noted, sounding utterly pleased. 

“She’s lucky she didn’t touch you or I would have to break her fingers,” you replied with a simple shrug. 

Max snorted. “You’d end up in jail then, Trouble.”

“And you’d bail me out,” you retorted with an innocent smile.

“Of course I would,” he murmured before leaning up to press a quick, chaste kiss on your lips that would be deemed appropriate at an event like this—even if you were still sat on his lap. “You happen to look pretty good in orange though.”

.

[goldsbitch]

Twelve grapes

Ladies, gentlemen and everyone in between, above and beyond. Entering a new era - lestappen. I guess it hits everyone at some point.

I wish you all a happy 2025, may it be filled with exciting races and storylines. I invite you to read a short prologue for my upcoming series.

There was something different in the air that one night. More magic than you'd usually find during New Years Eve. Must have been faith herself, pulling few extra strings and having this specific group of girls, who hadn't known each other prior to that evening, crumpled up under the table.

The wine, that had flown freely the whole evening, got replaced by the original form of the fruit- a massive bowl of grapes sitting in between the circle. The new year was about to enter and somewhere around Europe, under a random old wooden structure, that looked like it was about to fall down under the weight of all that laid on in, wishes were about to be made. The girls hardly remembered each other's name - one got dragged to the party by her friend (insisting that she ought to stop wallowing about that one guy who had his hair a little too long for this decade anyway), the blonde one got ditched by her older sister and followed this group after meeting them in the bar. Another one was visiting the town with her parent and the next one was on a student exchange programme. All of them were pretty sure they'd never see each other again. But this is what brings the true charm of girl power. Leaving all the older people and annoying guys behind, they followed the Spanish one, who introduced the tradition of eating twelve grapes during the last seconds of the old year. Fueled by one shared wish - to find the one. May the new year be the one they fall in love, madly and happily this time. Stop dwelling on the past and allow new stories to start. There were giggles, hopes, dreams, and knees bumping into each other. Unburdened eyes full of anticipation. Maybe this year would finally the one for the one.

"Ok, ok - is everyone ready? Grab a few grapes so that we don't all kill each other. And get the wishes ready!"

"Who's watching the time? I didn't bring a watch!"

"I have it and we're nearly 30 seconds in!"

They had to almost shout at each other, other people in the room, the ones not curled up under a table, making enough noise to surely be heard in the apartment above.

The Spanish girl finally spoke up, taking the initiative of the chaos in her own hand.

"Girls, girls. Calm down everyone. We gotta get ready. So we all agree - we'll go and make a wish for all of us to meet the perfect guy next year!"

"Who's gonna start?"

"Guy, I am not ready!"

"Ok, fine, I'll go first - tell me when!"

"15, 14, 13. -go!"

"My dream guy will be passionate!" yelled the Spanish girl entusiastically and shoved one piece in.

First grape in, 11 to go.

The girl on her left followed quickly. "He will be brave, not afraid to tell me he loves me!"

2 in, 10 to go.

"Succesfull, a winner!"

The shy one was finally on to speak, fighting the breath that got stuck in her throat.

"Go on, go on, we're behind on time!" one of the girls cheered, laughing, because it really didn't matter if they got it right.

"FIne, he'll have beautiful eyes!" A wave off muffled "Awww" hit, as they tried not to gag on the ongoing stream of juice and peels.

"Yes, and he will dress well!" shouted one.

"Um - I don't know - eh, he'll hate the cold!" followed another.

"What? Why?"

"I really don't wanna live in the cold..."

"Guys, we gotta move! No sidetracks!"

"I want someone curious!"

"Sense of justice-"

"-A bit of a bad boy!"

"How many was that?"

Cheers of the crowd outside of the table broke in. New year was finally here.

The blonde one was nearly choking on her grapes and laughter. "Eight, we need four more!"

"Fine, uh, make him cute and sometimes shy!"

At that point, they were just chugging grapes in, barely keeping score of how many they'd actually taken from the big bowl, which was emptying quickly.

"Obsessed with me!"

"Ten, two more!"

"Nice eyes-"

"We said that already!"

"Fine, uh, he'll be sensitive!"

"One more, one more, grab a last grape and we'll do it together! Uh, I don't know, what will his favorite color be?"

"Red!-"

"Blue!-"

Two of the girls shouted over each other, making the rest laugh, if they hadn't been already.

The Spanish one concluded. "Nice, that's all! Everyone take one for red and blue!" With that, the last grapes were chewed.

Faith does work in funny way. Wishes often come true, but rarely in the form you imagine they would. All of the things they wished for got granted. But perhaps not immediately. Who knew wished skip the generation. The last girls to crawl back from under the table would meet again one day, many times in fact. However, they'd never realize it. Charles Leclerc's mother would never know she had just clinked the glass of none other than the future Max Verstappen's mom.

chapter 1

[canyouiimagine]

My favs

Y'all know I can be a little lazy so... I will be updating this in the next few days 👀 but I absolutely love these fics and I want to say a big thank you to the people that wrote them 🫶🏾🩶.

@non-stop-imagines

❤︎ Cute (CL16 x Black Fem Content Creator!Reader) In which Charles thinks you're really cute and it gets annoying. ❤︎ Repeat That | 0 | I.1 | I.2 (MV1 x Black Content Creator!Reader) ❤︎ Handled (DR3 x Black Actress!Reader) ❤︎ Calm Down (OP81 x Black Fem!Reader) Oscar has his own ways of calming his you down. ❤︎ Valentine (LN4 x Hamilton!Reader) In which Lando falls hard and you don't know what to do.

@serpenttines

❤︎ Clarity | II (CL16 x Black Mean Girl!Reader) Charles is a taken man, so when he starts having feeling for another woman things get complicated. especially since y/n isn't known for being the nicest person. ❤︎ Play To Win (ex!CL16, LH44 x Black!Reader) You don't know what game Charles was playing at, but you wanted needed to win. ❤︎ Call It Crazy | II (LH44 x ex Black!Reader) "you can say I'm crazy, if you want to that's true i'm crazy 'bout you" | "baby, when you finally, get to love somebody. guess what, It's gonna be me"

@saintslewis

❤︎ The Motherland (Platonic F1 Grid (not all) x Black Driver!Reader / LH44 x Black Driver!Reader) In which reader takes the f1 pilots to experience her culture and the beautiful country that is South Africa. ❤︎ Pink + White (CL16 x Black DJ!Reader) In which your relationship with Charles gets exposed so you decide to just hard launch. ❤︎ Get You (LN4 x Black!Reader) Joining a specific group of YouTubers on their channel wasn't something you'd envisioned for yourself but your friend, Ria, managed to get you into Quadrant. How Lando reacts is for you to keep reading 🤭 For OC readers: ❤︎ Renaissance (LH44 x fem!oc) The Browns and the Hamiltons have been neighbours for many years, Nadia and their oldest son, Lewis, not being as close as the families had hoped they would be. Years later, everyone drifts apart into different neighbourhoods, some others becoming one of the best drivers to ever grace the sport of Formula One however being a man of his stature, fame came along with it and so did the scandals. Can a fake marriage to a complete stranger help keep his image alive? let’s find out!

@thisismeracing

❤︎ King of manifesting (CL16 x Black Singer!Reader) You've been secretly dating Charles for a while, but fans can't believe it when the rumors start to go around. What do you mean a vroom-vroom Ferrari guy is dating their idol? ❤︎ All Because I Liked A Boy | II ( CL16 x Black Singer!Reader) Yn fell in love with Charles and secretly dated him for almost a year. She didn't consider, however, how fans would react seeing they used to love and still stan Charles' past relationship. What happens when their hidden love gets out in the open?

[forzalando]

i'm giggling and kicking my feet, this was absolutely the cutest thing ever. and after doing 5 hours of grad school work this evening, i'm feeling so incredibly (not) normal about this fic. can max come leave me notes in my textbooks. asking for a friend (me).

hi kait!! finally found my way into your inbox, i feel like it’s been a tiiiny bit overdue 😭

i’d love to request writing little notes on post-its and leaving them in random pages of their textbook, so that they will get a little endorphin boost when studying with oscar if that’s okay! (or max, if you wanna give a hand at writing for him)

liyah!!! you're right on time babe, thank you so much for this request! i had so much fun writing this and i'm hoping i did max justice <3

max verstappen x reader, 2k, a dash of google translated dutch lol. request something from here!

“Fuck!” 

Your forehead thunks down against your open textbook for what feels like the millionth time. You feel like you’ve been staring at the same page for hours, yet you still can’t seem to make any sense of what you’re looking at, and it makes you want to scream. 

Now don’t get it wrong, you love learning and you’re fortunate enough to be pursuing an advanced education, but it’s at times like these you wonder if it’s all worth it. There’s so much information to take in and not enough hours in the day to remember it all, and you’re running out of time before you have to take this godforsaken exam that could prevent you from moving to the next level of courses. 

No pressure, or anything, of course. 

“Careful, mijn liefje, you're too smart to be banging your head on the table like that.” Max’s voice rings out from behind you, and you’re too tired to even jump. You hadn’t even heard him let himself into your apartment, let alone sneak up on you. He leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“I don’t feel smart,” You huff, feeling his hands smooth along your shoulders. “I feel like an idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot.” He replies, very as-a-matter-of-factly. His thumbs press into the knots at the base of your neck like he knows exactly where they are, rubbing slow circles. You don't see it, but he scans your surroundings with a furrowed brow as he massages your stiff muscles. 

The table around you is littered with things—crumpled papers, empty Red Bull cans, an entire stationery store’s worth of pens and highlighters, and most worryingly, your still completely full water bottle. If that sight is any indication, he can safely assume you probably haven’t left your place in this chair for a while. 

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way because I mean it from a place of love, but when was the last time you got some sleep?” 

“What? I dunno, like yesterday—wait, what day is it today?” 

Max presses his lips into a thin line. He’s never been one to worry too much about your studies, because you’re fully capable of keeping things in order yourself, but it might be starting to get out of hand. Now feels like a good time to step in and take matters into his own hands. “If you have to think that hard about it, it’s been too long.” 

Finally you look up at him, and boy is he right. You look utterly exhausted, even as you vehemently shake your head side to side. “I’m not tired, Max. I need to study.” 

“You’ve been studying for ages. What you need is rest.” 

“I can’t. I don’t have time for rest, I need to be ready for my exam,” You argue, already turning back to your textbook. Max crouches down next to you, blanketing your knee with a large, warm palm. His other hand eases the pen out of your grasp, fingers lacing with yours instead. 

“Please take a break, schatje. If not for yourself, do it for me.” 

One look at those pretty, pleading blue eyes of his and you cave, nodding defeatedly. “Maybe a little nap couldn't hurt.” 

Max nods enthusiastically, gently pulling you out of your seat and towards the hallway leading to your bedroom before you have a chance to reconsider. You’re leaning heavily against him, basically already half asleep as he guides you down onto the soft mattress as easily as he can. 

“Wake me up in twenty minutes, please,” You mumble, giving a sluggish tug at his hand. 

“Of course.” 

He won’t, but you don’t need to know that. Max will gladly take any consequences if it means you get at least an hour of rest, hopefully more. Your health and wellbeing is the most important thing to him. 

Your eyes flutter shut on their own accord mere seconds later, soft snores emitting from your mouth even before Max pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Not tired, my ass,” He chuckles under his breath, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before exiting the room as quietly as he can. 

While you get some much needed sleep, Max organizes your study space a little, tossing away the cans and wrappers, plugging in your computer to charge, then moves onto the kitchen and cleans up in there too. 

The living room area is next on his checklist; blankets get folded and put back in their rightful spots, and windows get opened because he won’t lie, the air smells a little stale in here. He figures a complete reset and a neat area might help ease your mind when you wake up. 

As he surveys his tidy job, his eyes land on your open textbook, then the massive stack of multicolored post-it notes next to it. He might not be able to help with the studying part, but there is something he can do about keeping your spirits up while you work on the former. 

He settles himself into your chair, hunching over at the desk as he scribbles notes to you. Encouragements, affirmations about how bright you are and how proud he is of you, dumb jokes to hopefully make you laugh, even his best shot at the little cute doodles you draw for him on the whiteboard of his driver’s room whenever you’re in there waiting for him. Obviously, they’re nowhere near as good—Max has never claimed to be much of an artist—but hopefully they’re enough to give you a little mood boost during your study sessions. 

Being careful to mark your spot, he scatters the sticky notes randomly throughout the crisp pages. 

You rouse from your sleep hours later, barely able to get a word out before Max ushers you to the bathroom to relax in the hot bath he’s drawn for you. Despite your protests, you sink into the nearly scalding water (which is just the way you like it) with an appreciative sigh.

Only once you’re fresh and clean and thoroughly pampered by your boyfriend does he let you come back to where you were when he first found you earlier today. But it looks different. It’s not a mess anymore. Upon glancing around the rest of the place, you can tell that he’s done quite a bit whilst you were passed out. 

“Did you…clean my apartment while I was asleep?” You ask in bewilderment, taking in the neatly organized space with wide eyes. It even smells fresh, lemony and bright and not at all like the despair of an overworked twenty something year old student during exam season. 

“Yep.” Max says simply, popping the ‘p’. 

“Why?” You’re not mad in any way, shape or form, just simply stunned. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you and Max just shrugs like it’s no big deal. His nonchalance still takes you aback sometimes. 

“Thought it might help. Anyways, you get one hour to study, then you’re taking a break even if I have to drag you away from that book myself,” He warns, pinning you to the spot with a stern glare. “I’ll be in the other room, but I have a timer on, so don’t even try to pull one over on me. One hour. Call out if you need anything.” 

He kisses you firmly on the side of your head and then he’s gone, leaving you alone to hit the books once more. 

Slumping into the chair with a groan, you shake your head not unlike a dog would, flipping open your book again to where you’d left off. Your head feels a little clearer now, a little less foggy now thanks to Max’s efforts, and you’re hoping it’ll make a difference. 

Your gaze is immediately drawn to a bright green sticky note a few pages later, off in the side margins. It isn’t one of your notes though, but rather Max’s tiny handwriting, an odd mixture of lower and uppercase letters spelling out a message. 

You’re doing an amazing job. Keep pushing!

Before you know it, you’ve flipped through the entire book in your search of more notes from Max, your grin only growing bigger and bigger with each one you find. 

Why don’t dinosaurs talk? Because they’re dead. 

I’m proud of you for making it this far. You’re so smart. 

What are Sassy and Jimmy’s favorite day of the week? Cat-urday. 

If you find this one, we’ll go to Bora Bora during summer break. 

That last one is tucked in the back cover, signed and dated by him. You plan to keep it as undeniable proof when the time comes, though you suspect he won’t try to deny it. He’d be happy to whisk you off to any place you wanted if you asked. 

Every single one of his notes makes you grin like an idiot, but his attempts at drawing his cats are your favorite ones of all. It takes you a few moments to understand what exactly you’re looking at, but when you squint at what could be the outline of Sassy’s ears, it makes you actually laugh out loud. 

Warmth spreads from your head to the tips of your toes at the thought of Max taking the time to do all this for you, even though he really didn’t have to. When you think about it, he’s always been this way—showing that he cares through his actions. Taking care of his loved ones without having to say a word. It’s one of the many things you love about him.

Like always, Max is true to his word. One hour later on the dot, he marches back in with gusto. 

“Alright, break time! Let’s go get some food. Lando keeps waffling on about some Greek place that’s apparently super popular and the best he’s ever had, if you don’t mind—” He stops mid sentence and mid stride at the sight of you staring back at him. You’re not smiling, but you also don’t look angry. It’s actually a little unsettling, really. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

You barrel into Max with enough force to make him stumble backwards a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He lets out a soft noise of surprise at having to catch you all of a sudden, one that is quickly stifled because your lips are on his now, and you’re kissing him the same way you do when he comes home after a triple header and you haven’t seen him in weeks. 

The kiss is short, but teeming with emotion. Love, appreciation, gratitude—you kiss Max with everything you’ve got, and when you pull away he looks pleasantly confused. 

“What was that for, schatje?” He chuckles, smoothing a hand up and down your back. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Everything.” You mumble, pressing your face into the softness of his jumper. Another laugh rumbles through him, fonder this time. 

“Everything.” He repeats. You nod against his chest, and he knows what you’re trying to say, even if you’re not saying it. He sighs contentedly, nestling his chin over the top of your head. 

You’d stay like this forever if you could, if neither of you had things to do and places to be. Just you and your Max, who knows you so well you don’t even have to tell him what you need. And what you need right now is food. 

Max rocks you side to side, voice light as he ponders the options, because he just knows what you’re thinking already. “If we hurry, we could probably still get a table before the Greek place closes. Or maybe not, but I’ll pay them extra to stay open for us.” 

“I like the way you think, Maxie.” You beam, kissing him again. A little too quickly for his liking, but he doesn’t mind. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[a-lecstappen]

i actually need him im not joking rn

[georgiasbrainstuff]

Younger Charles Leclerc is a mastermind

Freccheit by @additiva has permanent residence in my brain. So here's a part 2 to my first Freccheit inspired edit. <3

Editing for age difference is so haaaard! But I wanted to give it another try. <3

Last time I went for angst, so this time its like they're getting their happy ending.

Charles is only cryptic and Machiavellian (had to google the spelling) because he cares so much about the way the public perceives him and his place in Ferrari so he has to be very careful with the way he acts.

Let's pretend that the FIA awards clips are from Charles getting announced as the F3 champion and Max hearing his name for the first time (or so he remembers).

From the the very start, nothing was going to stop Charles from reaching his dreams of being a WDC. Not even being in a relationship with Max.

Then we have the wild journey they go on in Freccheit with Charles being a menace, doing things his way, challenging Max (that energy was better captured in the other edit). But Max understands him. He knows that Charles is a mastermind (and insane). Then they're older (or well Charles is lol) and living their happily ever after. Max is just happy to be his and have Charles as his own.

*Sniffs* Oh no, I think I have to read Freccheit again now. As should you if you've read this far and you haven't read Freccheit yet. This is your sign.

[2handsslan]

max verstappen // mv1 fic recs

———————————— 🏎️🏎️ ————————————

one shots

misunderstood hero with a heart of gold - @harrysfolklore

“max verstappen has never been one to read books, but everything changes when he comes across a pretty booktuber who describes him better than anyone else did before”

two sides of the same coin - @monzabee

“the one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all”

a small request - @postracehair

“even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note”

my world (champion) - @italiangirlcoresblog

“the aftermath of the las vegas grand prix with max”

vegas baby - @neferaskingdom

“after winning his fourth world championship, max verstappen stuns the world with a live radio proposal”

work it out - @maxverstappendefender

“mclaren!rival x mv1 (max and reader had a little friends to enemies action, but they are stuck together now. maybe they will work out their issues...)”

the interview - @pucksandpower

“when you are given an assignment to interview someone, you can’t resist asking your boyfriend to be the subject … it’s just a shame that your professor doesn’t believe the interview actually happened”

christ-max - @harrysfolklore

“you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion”

connection - @katsu28

“when a holiday gala that neither you nor max want to be at brings two people from vastly different worlds together, you find out that you might have more in common with the four time world champion than you think you do”

disturbing the peace - @pucksandpower

“an environmental activist disturbs the carefully constructed peace of max’s life and turns his whole world on its head (or in which environmentalism and being a menace both run in the vettel family)”

series

the yapping hour is upon us - @motorsportbarbie13

“in which max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing”

keep on rolling - @vivwritesfics

“lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? impossible, right? she worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the formulay/n youtube channel”

forbidden - @motorsportbarbie13

“in which you reconnect with an old friend, much to the dismay of your brother”

tamed - @jungwnies

“you're a top pr manager tasked with handling the infamous max verstappen, known for his fiery temper and controversial outbursts”

smau

she’s everything, he’s max - @menagerofmischief

“y/n leclerc starts soft launching a man and soon enough there are paparazzi pictures of the two of them except no one quiet believes that the princess of monaco would settle down with ... max”

we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - @fqlling4it

pt 2

friend of a friend - @norrisainz33

“max meets his dream girl through his friends good friend, pato o’ward”

put it all on red (bull) - @astonmartinii

“her brother won the race? does she know? does she care?”

crying in the club - @pomegranatesarchive

“how should one react when their boyfriend wins the world championship at the same time their brother loses it?”

max & the three musketeers series - @verstarppen

“mercedes’ is just a tiny bit worried about your dates with their archnemesis; once mick, lewis and george caught a whiff of your treason, they had to intervene and stop the villain from stealing their princess”

*these are part of my fic rec masterlist, please note none of these are written by me and the author of each story had been tagged! check out my f1 fic rec masterlist for other drivers!*

[dexter1tywins]

i have to share this amazing fic with you all its called salad days by slapshots and oml its so freaking good, absolute emotional rollercoaster, i lowk almost couldnt finish it cause the freaking plot twist but trust do it, its so worth it (theres some quite explicit stuff tho 🤓)

[shootingstar-scuderia]

got me kicking my feet and giggling 😭😭

click 'here' to unlock the other boyfriends! .

Max Verstappen wasn’t really good when it came to words. He never had been. 

When Max was told to express his emotions—any of them—it was like a part of his brain switched off and everything became more difficult. It was hard for his brain to wrap around his thoughts, process them and vocalise them. It was difficult for him to say the words that flowed so easily for other people.

When his dad was yelling at him, the fear locked him down before he could even utter a word. When he was happy, the adrenaline made it easy to act instead of thinking. When he was scared or excited or angry, it never mattered. Max Verstappen just couldn’t seem to voice any of the feelings rushing through him. 

And that was the case of love—the most overwhelming and suffocating emotion of them all—Max could barely keep his head on right. 

As cheesy and cliche as it sounded, Max didn’t believe in love at first sight until he met you. He didn’t realise it was love, not really, but he knew that the tightening feeling in his chest and surprisingly pleasant twist in his stomach only urged him to close the distance between you and introduce himself. And he was right. It was love. It was so much more than love, even if it took him a few months to realise it. 

There was never a doubt in your mind that Max loved you, but he just didn’t show it the same as others did. 

You first experienced Max’s love around two months into the relationship. 

Timing for a relationship—romantic or not—was never an easy thing in the world of Formula One. Ironically enough, Max thought the universe was on his side when he met you during the summer break. It was four weeks of bliss. Four weeks of pushing every racing thought away from his brain—something that once seemed impossible—and just focusing on you. 

Even as the season returned, the few weekends away didn’t seem like such a big deal when the two of you were giddy and happy and buzzing to explore this new, bubbling connection. 

But then a triple header came around and Max, for the first time in his life, was annoyed by his job. 

He didn’t like being away from you. He didn’t like the fact he couldn’t just drag you along with him, from country to country like the greedy man he wanted to be. He didn’t like that he was so wrapped up with training and racing and resting that the communication between you two was already getting difficult and you hadn’t even left the honeymoon phase.

It was odd to be so happy for the triple header to end, to cross that line on Sunday and know he had at least two weeks before he had to leave you again. It felt odd that he had found something that he adored as much as racing outside of his job. 

Except, despite feeling every single word he thought, he never said it to you.

Instead, he had wandered into your apartment after stopping by his own and simply grinned at you when you opened the door, a brown paper bag in hand as he said, “I’ve got something for you.”

It was a magnet. In fact, it was three magnets, each from the country he visited. 

And maybe to others, it wasn’t much. And maybe to others, it was a little tacky. But to you, it was everything and more. It told you that even when he was away, even when he was working, even when he had a million things on his mind, Max still thought of you. 

It was a reoccurring tradition that continued throughout your relationship. 

At the most random times on the most random days, Max would hand you a brown paper bag that held some stupidly adorable and sentimental gift that made your heart explode. He bought you other gifts, big and extravagant and expensive ones that made your head spin a little, but the ones that came in a brown paper bag were your favourite.

They were thoughtful and heartwarming and they decorated your apartment like little reminders of the man you loved. 

So, three years into your relationship with Max, it was no surprise when you found him in the kitchen one morning, two plates of french toast and a brown paper bag lying by the counter. 

“Hm, forgot to give me it last night?” You teased as you slid into a stool, grinning at him as he passed you a mug—coffee made just how you liked it—before he slid into the stool next to you.

“I was distracted,” Max retorted with a matching grin on his face as he leaned down to peck your lips. “Can’t blame me.”

“I can forgive you this once, I guess,” you said, sighing a little dramatically as you did just because hearing Max laugh was one of your favourite sounds. “Especially if it is one of those cute figurines you sent me pictures of.” 

“I think you’ll like it all the same,” Max said, and maybe if you were a little more awake you would have noticed the hint of nervousness in his voice as he reached over for the bag and slid it towards you. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it,” you assured the boy, because you always did. Because whatever it was, it meant he was thinking of you—of your reaction—when he bought it and that was more than enough. 

You didn’t comment on his sudden silence as you took the bag, reaching inside to feel a small box between your fingers. You looked up at him with an unsuspecting smile, not even fully realising what sat in your palm when you opened the box until your eyes flickered down and you froze. 

Because it wasn’t the figurine. It wasn’t another pair of earrings he saw at a local market. It wasn’t a funny crystal that he swore was meant to bring good fortune. It wasn’t a magnet. 

No, because the gift inside of the brown paper bag—the gift that was currently sitting in the palm of your hand—was a ring box. 

A ring box with the most perfect fucking ring staring back at you. 

“Max?” His name barely a whisper because that was all you could manage, that was all you were able to get out as you turned to look at him. Your vision was starting to blur with tears but so were his. And fuck, his blurry, smiling face was the prettiest sight you had ever fucking seen. 

“Marry me?” He asked, because he was Max. He was your Max. He didn’t do big speeches or love confessions. He didn’t do over the top celebrations or huge parties when it came to the things that mattered, the intimate moments that didn’t require an audience. 

He didn’t need anything more than a brown paper bag, a question and you. 

“I am gonna marry the shit out of you,” you managed to mutter out before you launched yourself at him, practically climbing onto his lap as he laughed and hugged you close and didn’t let go until your coffee was cold and the tears were gone and there was a pretty fucking ring on your finger. 

Max Verstappen wasn’t good with words, but he had other ways of showing he loved you and there was no doubt in your head that he did.

.