#versainz fanfiction

[babybulls15]

(Carlos Sainz Jr./Max Verstappen, 1.4k, rated G, 1/1)

(Pre-Relationship, Feelings Realization, Max Verstappen Needs a Hug, Max Verstappen Gets a Hug, thats it, thats the fic)

Summary:

I didn't know where else to go.

Read it on Ao3 or below. :))

(This was written for Day 1 of the All Ships Ship Week 2024 run by @ficwip for the prompt "I didn't know where else to go".

I've been working on it for a while and I am very very happy with the way it turned out! It's technically part 1 of a series inspired by the prompt, because I had so many ideas that I would love to put to paper and share with you!

Until then, I hope you enjoy my take on the prompt and I’d love to hear your thoughts! <33)

---

Carlos’ Driver’s room – 2015

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Max sounds nervous, unsure.

It’s very disorienting. Very different from how he usually sounds.

Not that Carlos would be a fitting judge of that. They barely know each other.

Sure, they’ve been teammates for half a year now. And sure, they've spent a lot of that time basically living in each other's pockets - becoming friends even. But just because you’re frequently around someone doesn’t necessarily mean you know them.

You certainly know things about them. Carlos knows a lot of things about Max. Max knows a lot of things about Carlos. Inconsequential stuff - favourite foods, TV shows, ice cream flavours, the works.

(They’ve had a lot of downtime, which meant lots of opportunities to play dumb icebreaker games, when neither of them wanted to pretend to be busy on their phone.)

And yet, to Carlos, most of the Max Verstappen jigsaw in his head is still just a bunch of 2- or 3-piece clumps that he has no idea how to fit into the bigger picture.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Carlos knows how Max sounds when he’s in work-mode. How he talks in briefs and de-briefs, on the radio, in interviews and even those silly PR-videos the team makes them do.

There’s a certain harshness to his voice, that makes him sound almost angry at times - even when he’s just stating facts. (It gets him in trouble sometimes, but mostly seems to work well as a deflector. To keep all the drama at a distance.)

The thing is, most people only encounter Max in work-mode. So it’s easy for them to get the impression, that that’s just how he always sounds – how he always is – and put him into a corner because of it.

But Carlos has also heard how Max sounds when he talks to his family.

The harshness is still there – most likely an integral part of any version of him - but it’s not as pronounced. Instead it’s almost overshadowed by something Carlos can’t quite figure out. Something that continuously betrays his annoyed teenager exterior, revealing the fondness he has for the people closest to him with every word he speaks.

He’s never heard him sound like this though.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Carlos had expected a lot of things to happen this year. Had thought through all kinds of possible routes the season and the relationship with his teammate could take. Had talked about it at length with his father as well.

At no point had any of what he is currently faced with even crossed his mind in passing – meaning Carlos is not prepared for this in the slightest.

(Then again, where would a precedent for Max Verstappen breaking down and somehow seeing Carlos’ driver’s room as his only refuge even come from?)

And yet, here they are – Max curled up on the couch, sounding like he might burst into tears in the next five seconds and Carlos standing awkwardly in the doorway of his own driver’s room, utterly out of his depth.

His head is filled with questions. Most of them variations of What happened?, What do you need? and What the fuck happened?. The timespan between them parting ways after the de-brief and now seems to small for any earth-shattering event to occur.

But apparently it has.

Max is looking at Carlos, eyes filled with the same nervousness and uncertainty as his voice.He is looking at Carlos, like his world really is lying at his feet, broken into a million pieces. Like he has reached his absolute limit and can’t puzzle it back together by himself. But also like he isn’t entirely sure if Carlos would be willing to help him with it. Like he thinks that there’s a possibility his teammate – his friend – will actually kick him out in a state like this.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Realizing what his prolonged stunned silence probably looks like to Max, every question about What, When, Who is flying out of Carlos’ head and he finally manages to push through his shock and into action.

Usually, mostly due to Carlos’ own tendencies, physical contact is not uncommon between them. But he has no idea where Max’s boundaries lie when he’s this upset.

So, as he crosses the distance to the couch and sits down next to his teammate, Carlos makes sure to leave a moderate gap between them.

Just to be safe. Even though everything in him screams with the urge to just hug Max and hope it makes everything okay again.

His caution proves unnecessary, when not 3 seconds later, Carlos is hit with an armful of sobbing Dutchman, clinging to him like his teammate is the only thing tethering him to earth.

Mind still blanking on anything even remotely helpful to say, Carlos settles on simply giving in to his instincts and wrapping his arms around the younger man, gently rubbing his back.

When, after a few minutes, the sobs gradually simmer down to sniffles, Carlos is glad that it seems to be enough for now. That even though he has no idea how to go about this, he still managed to help somewhat.

It surprises Carlos a little bit, when Max relaxes more into his hold the longer it goes on and doesn’t make any move to pull away. To get away. He’d expected at least a little bit of that typical teenage embarrassment over having emotions, but, his initial fears assuaged, Max seems to trust Carlos enough to just let himself fall and be held.

The sniffles become fewer and more far between until Max’s breathing completely evens out. With no small amount of satisfaction does Carlos notice, that the younger man has fallen asleep in his arms.

It helps Carlos relax a bit as well – finally having at least a hint of an idea on how to manoeuvrer this uncharted territory in their relationship. If all Max needs is a safe place to land after whatever happened, it’s reassuring to know that he considers Carlos as such.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Carlos has no idea how long they’ve been sitting like this – Max fast asleep in his arms,  Carlos gently drawing patterns onto his back – when he realises that, if a situation like this arose for himself, he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.

That he too would feel comfortable enough with his teammate – his friend – to let himself be comforted. That he too would trust Max to hold him up when he couldn't do it himself.

This line of thinking seems so far removed from the way Carlos has seen their relationship up until this point and also how he usually thinks about his more casual, circumstantial relationships. Extremely far.

Maybe Carlos has been fooling himself. Maybe it’s impossible to spend as much time together as they have over the last few weeks alone and not grow close enough to trust each other like this. Maybe he just didn’t want to admit that he’s grown quite fond of his teammate. Because maybe, whatever is happening between them is starting to feel unlike anything else Carlos has ever experienced with a friend.

It’s very disorienting.

Especially since the whole thing seems to only be a surprise to his conscious brain.

There’s no tension in his body at their closeness, his limbs oddly calm and comfortable about it all. No subconscious urge to find a way to end it either. Everything about their embrace feels like it could go on forever and all of Carlos would be content with that.

Like it’s been this way for a while. Like Max and him having a connection that goes a bit deeper than just casual friendship is not even yesterday’s news, but last month’s. Like most of him has just been waiting for the last few bits to finally get with the program.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Carlos knows there's a lot to unpack here.

He should probably ask Max what happened. What got him so freaked out on a race weekend, that objectively hadn’t been a complete disaster.

He should probably also figure out what else he has missed in their relationship. And what that means exactly.

But with Max breathing evenly against his chest - a warm and calming weight on top of Carlos, slowly pulling him to sleep as well - he thinks it’s probably best to leave everything tied up for just a little bit longer.

[lyslsstuff]

“He told me you are less shy now, then you used to be,” Max answers for him, “Then when we were younger.”

Carlos feels his face heat up. It’s not hard to figure out what Max means by that.

“I wouldn’t say shy,” Lando corrects, “He still is. Just more, like, willing, I guess.” He picks up his phone again, starts scrolling immediately, “I don’t know. I don’t know how he was back then. But he likes to get his cunt fucked now, so,” he shrugs again, like none of this matters. Like he didn’t just reveal to Carlos that he’s told Max that he’s let Lando fuck his cunt.

He shrugs like any of this is a shrugging matter.

Go read Here On Out by @xxxdeerlordxxx I oblige you.

TAG LISST (because I did art)

@girlrussell @leftneb @lain-at-the-gay-bar @blairdii @bepbops @kolbalissh

[lw77]

Over and Over (MV x CS)

In this life or the next, Max is determined to keep meeting Carlos, over and over, to follow his tethered half as long as he'll have him.

Carlos thought back to something Max once said. “We’re soulmates. In our last life, you left me too soon, so I followed. That’s why you’re older now, and I’m younger.” Max had said it so plainly, as if it were absolute truth, sensing the hesitation Carlos never voiced. Every time Carlos felt the tight knot of anxiety form—realising it was Max’s arms he ran to, Max’s hands he clung to, and Max’s gaze that steadied him—those words unravelled the tension.

It was a softness for Max that made his father seethe, a trait he had tried to discipline out of Carlos his whole life. But when his soul was so tightly tethered to Max, pretending otherwise felt impossible.

He thinks back to that now. They're in Barcelona for testing, his home track—the place where Carlos first met Max and where he last sat in a Formula 1 car. Standing at the edge of the track, the sun high and bright, it beats down on Carlos’s back as he watches Max slip into the cockpit. The engines roar to life, and a familiar ache tightens in Carlos’s chest—a mix of pride and something deeper.

The last time he was here, he had stayed in the cockpit, helmet firmly on and head bowed. It was then that he realized he didn’t want to do it anymore. He had only ever stayed for the friends, then because his father wanted him to, and finally because it was the only place their fathers had no choice but to let them meet—bound by teams, contracts, and duties that served as a mask. He had never been the hunter his father wished him to be, never became the driver his father pushed him to be. Too soft. Always too soft to hold any shape his father pressed into him.

He wonders now if he ever truly accepted his dad pushing him into karts because some part of him knew it would lead him to Max. Was it all just fate’s twisted way of bringing them together? How cruel fate was, Carlos sneers, to let him break over and over as his father tried to shape him into someone he wasn’t meant to be. He gave years to the sport—to his father, only for them to chew him up. At least he managed to spit himself out before they could.

Back in the garage, Max prepares for the track, his eyes set with determination. The fluorescent lights cast a soft glow, a halo around him—the same Max who followed Carlos into F1 at seventeen because he always knew what they were.

As if feeling the weight of Carlos’s thoughts, Max’s gaze finds his, and when their eyes meet, he presses a kiss through his helmet to his index finger—I carry you with me.

—----

He’s leaning against the garage, waiting for Max to join him.

"Do you ever wonder if we really lived other lives?" The thought that they've been in each other's orbit far longer than they can imagine—that they've met as soulmates each time—goes unsaid as Carlos murmurs, his words barely audible above the cacophony. But then he remembers the weight of Max's gaze—how it anchors him and makes him feel like he belongs to something bigger than himself. He recalls how at peace he feels in Max's presence, how his heart slowed into a summer calm the first time they met, as if it recognized, before Carlos did, that he was whole. Carlos can't imagine a life without it; he can't envision his soul in any universe not being halved so Max can piece it together.

“Every day,” Max replies, his voice cutting through the noise as he emerges from the garage, wiping sweat from his brow. “I think about all the times we’ve found each other. It’s like we’re destined to collide, over and over.”

Carlos turns, a faint smile easing the tightness in his chest. “Maybe that’s why I can’t let go. No matter how hard I try, amor.” Leaning back against the cool garage, something stirs in his chest—something heavy and unspoken. He tilts his head, feigning confidence, but Max sees through it.

Grinning, Max steps closer, his eyes softening as he cups Carlos’s cheek in his hand, his touch both familiar and grounding. It’s as if he knows what Carlos is afraid to say. “You’re not supposed to let go, remember? Didn’t I tell you? I followed you for a reason. It’s always been you.” Max’s thumb brushes lightly over the dark circles beneath Carlos’s eyes, and Carlos lets his lashes flutter closed, feeling the tension melt under Max’s touch—the only anchor against the tide of anxiousness that threatens to wash over.

“Do you wish I never stopped? That it was still me in the garage next to you?” Carlos whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his vulnerability.

Max’s gaze deepens, and for a moment, the noise of the track fades into the background. “Always,” he admits softly. “But it’s not just about you racing. I want you everywhere, you know? When you’re not here, when I don’t see you—” Max shakes his head, closing his eyes as if whatever he thought is something he doesn’t want to hold onto. “It feels like I imagined all of this. Like I’ll have to chase you into the next life just to see you again.”

Max’s confession hits Carlos like a tidal wave, chest splitting open with the weight of it. His heart surges toward Max—this boy, now a man—ready to carry both of them. He grasps Max’s wrists, his face cradled between Max’s warm hands, and holds his gaze. Max’s fingers trace gently over his features—his brows, cheekbones, and lips—brushing tenderly against the stubble Carlos has been growing. Max’s reverent gaze never wavers, as if he’s memorising every detail, every touch, as if this moment is his last chance to do so.

It churns something deep in Carlos's chest, unaware of how fragile it all feels to Max to finally have him—for them to be together without the threat of either of their fathers looming over them ever again. He remembers when they were still boys under their fathers' guardianship, bound by filial duty and controlled by paternal pride. How the pain of their forced distance clawed at him, reminding him of all the times they could only brush hands or clasp each other’s necks in feigned sportsmanship, desperate for just a moment of warmth—a fleeting chance to soothe the ache of a bond stretched too thin.

Suddenly, it’s like Carlos is the one going 300 km/h, not Max. Carlos who waits on Max’s side of the garage, hand covering his mouth, too scared to watch the TV, too strung out to focus on anything but the data. Heart racing until Max returns, helmet off, healthy, whole—alive. Max is on the other side, speeding around the track, desperate to find him, to know he’s still there, waiting—real.

He presses a kiss to the palms still cradling his face, pulling Max from whichever depth of thought he’d fallen into—I’m here. Max answers his kiss with a gentle press to his hair, and as one hand slips to his neck, he pulls Carlos into him, drawing him closer—You are.

Author's note: This is based on the idea I had and the little blurb I wrote for it yesterday. I may make this multi-chaptered sometime in the future but this is it for now, so enjoy!

[drspleenmeister]

*Holding my smut!logistics head despairingly in my angry little hands*

Ugh.

Okay.

Girls, guys, whomever: I've said it before and I'm going to say it again now, because I've read more logistically implausible fics in the last few days than I dare to count on my grumpy little claws. The writing may be smoking, but if you can't get the logistics of sex right then you are just going to make your readers go, "Eh, what?!"

You cannot deepthroat someone while breathing through your nose. You can't. Unless you have gills. If you're writing smut for fish then by all means continue to have your characters comfortably taking in oxygen whilst choking on a cock. Otherwise, stop it.

Throat-fucking is hot, HOTTT, but again. Breathing is not possible simultaneously. Please. This type of breath-play is sexy. Use it.

Have you ever tried to hollow your cheeks with a cock jammed down between your tonsils? No? That's right: you can't. Your characters are either using their tongue and cheeks or they are using their throat; I guarantee they can't do both at the same time. Also, having a man able to feel the outline of his cock through the cheek of his partner while they are going down on him: only possible if he is JABBING his fingers into his partner's cheek and forcing the flesh between their teeth, or fucking the head of their cock into their partner's cheek-flesh. Either way is really not going to be comfortable for the partner who is doing the work.

Having your characters stop kissing because they can't breathe is fucking stupid. Have you ever kissed a human? You have a NOSE (which in this instance is NOT being blocked by a cock). It is perfectly possible for two humans to mack on one another for hours at a time without having to come up for air. Drawn-out snogging is hot; have you ever kissed someone so much that lube/prep is not even needed? Trust me, it's awesome.

Limbs. LIMBS. Block your smut scene out in your head, for the love of God. I can't count the number of times that a writer has led me to believe that a pairing are facing one another on a bed, only to find in the next sentence that one is actually behind the other up against a wall; or they're laying down; or one is seated and the other standing.

Get your names and pronouns straight (heh heh...), with m/m or f/f fiction it's so easy as the reader to lose track of who is doing what if you're only referring to the characters as him/her. Don't be afraid to use names, it's better to be too clear than not clear enough.

If you don't have the first-hand experience yourself to write about certain sexual experiences then LOOK. IT. UP. I am neither male nor queer, yet I adore m/m explicit fic and I've done my goddamn research; it drives me up the wall when a writer puts their men into a position that does not warrant easy access to the prostate, but then go ahead and try to write the act as if it's as natural as breathing. My dude, if you're making me - a straight female - shake my head at the logistical inaccuracies of one hot man fucking another hot man, then just imagine the fits of hilarity that you're sending an actually gay man into, who attempts to read your work!

I would say I'm sorry for ranting, but I'm not. I've been reading fanfic for a very very long time and it makes my cold, dead heart so happy when writers get it right, and so sad when they get it wrong.

[flore01]

I, as the biggest supporter of Versainz's and charlos friendship, feel compelled to drop lestappen fanfics where Carlos is a villain!

Everyone knows that Carlos would roll on the floor laughing about their relationship, and say he supports them while wiping the happy tears from his big eyes.

[oranjeleeuw]

fanfiction ideas master list

I will add new ideas to this on the go, and also update on the progress of each story regularly

Catboy streamer girlfriend Charles

Smut, 1-2k words at best, lestappen

Charles is doing game streams but he gets a bit more brave about acting up for the camera

He's still shit at it though

But he has a very supportive donator

It's Max

Charles doesn't know that

He got his cat ear headphones from this donator so he's responding to some commissions of this person

The fic is either description of Charles movements and thoughts or chat comments from twitch CUT description to Max pov

It's something equivalent of phone sex but through stream video/chat commands I guess

this was requested by my bf hfdhj <3

WIP state: only a draft

Toto Wolf uses Roscoe for spying (he fails)

Crack fic, all the teams on the grid mentioned, 1k words probably

Toto has this fantastic idea that Roscoe gets along with every pilot

So the dog can be used for some mischief

He sends the dog out in different silly scenarios to go off and spy on different teams, figuring out their strategies

But since Roscoe can't talk and he's not trained for this, the dog just collects pets

At the end Hamilton takes home his kinda sensory overloaded baby

WIP state: only a draft

My condolences

Lestappen one shot, hurt/comfort, more so comfort, will become sweeter in the end

Charles DNF in Zandvoort, Max is catching up with him right after the winner ceremony

Definitely more than friends (were we ever friends?), less than boyfriends relationship status

Max is praising the skills of Charles and goes on how he's wasting his talent at Ferrari

Charles ends up crying/having a breakdown bc what if it's not the car but him who's not performing any better

Max offers to take him down to the beach for a walk to clear his head (Charles stops crying and starts laughing when he thinks Max wants to take him to the nudist side of the beach)

They walk, look at the sea, enjoy the wind

It's peaceful, it is helping

They kiss, and kiss

Charles wishes he could treat everything as easy as it is with Max, even though nothing is easy with Max

But these corresponding things are what stick them to each other so it's fine

WIP state: 1/3 of it is written, rest of it is drafted out in detail

That infamous Ted and Robin pact

You know, the "let's marry each other if we are still single by 30"

Young Versainz with some added jump into their current age

“I mean it'd be fun to make a pact like that” Max prompts, which makes Carlos snort.

“Yeah, get me a home country where it's legal first” he says bitterly,

Toro Rosso days, Max and Carlos watch himym in their free time

Max fancies the thought of having someone secured for himself if things go south

Carlos is cynical

But the possibility of this pact lingers, haunting the thoughts of both of them

The emotional journey of Max Verstappen with men

Goddamn this boy is Gay™

I really want to have a self-indulgent analysis of how I see Max's relationship with the most important men in his life

Like I want to explore his feelings and flash of thoughts of sexual awakenings

Starting with Charles (as kids, young teenagers)

Jumping to Carlos which is a Very intense jump

Like losing virginity kind of a jump

Oh it was awkward but the best and most he'd wanted

Then the whole ordeal that is Danny Ricciardo for this kid

Goddamn he's so gay for him

Getting together with Carlos seemed so easy that he thinks maybe it's a sealed deal with Danny too

Like he likes him, that's obvious, isn't it?

Isn't it?

Then an older Charles enters the stage of racing (and Max’s heart) once again

Keep in mind this won't be an actual ship fic since none of the pairings will end up as couples, it's more so a study of Max emotions

[mish-tique]

Yall - in post championship celebrations im taking one of the dash and offer small (!) drabbles. All ships im willing to do are tagged ☺ Get your requests in my inbox 😊

[sleepyverstappens]

Keep quiet, keep quiet, keep quiet

Carlos’ words keep ringing through his head as he does his interviews, reminding him to not talk back, to agree with the journos pressing their microphones under his nose. Well set up their microphones and step back 6 feet. To not blame Seb, to not blame the team. Basically to not blame anyone but himself.

Read on AO3

[gayish-potato-f1]

For the Fanfiction-asks: 11, 21, 30, 34, and 39 please? :)

11. Who is Your Current OTP? 

I’m a total Lesteban hoe!

21. What was the First Fanfic You Ever Wrote?

My FIRST fanfic was Percy Jackson/Supernatural crossover actually. I never posted it but I read it over recently and I’m jealous of 12 year-old me’s ability to write an existing character so accurately, cuz damn! Dean was spot on! But my first fanfic that I posted was my Versainz fic- ‘Wake Up Call’ (it was my second fanfic ever and was super cringy but I love her)

30. What Inspires You to Write?

I honestly don’t know. I usually just write what I want to read and hasn’t been written yet tbh. 

34. Whats the Word Count on Your Longest Fic?

4227 words. It’s actually a Voltron fic and I love it to death!

39. What’s Your Greatest Strength as a Writer?

Geez, I don’t know. I guess probably that (in my opinion) I write fluff really well. I really like writing that super cheezy, sappy, romantic stuff and I’d like to think that it’s probably one of my best skills :)

[babybulls15]

(Carlos Sainz Jr./Max Verstappen, 2.1k, rated T, 1/1)

(Tooth-Rotting Fluff, the fluffiest of all the fluffy things that have ever entered my brain, Morning Cuddles, rated T because swearing just happens to me I don't control it)

Summary:

The best mornings are slow. Even when they probably shouldn't be.

Read it on Ao3 or below. :))

(made possible by the loveliest of beta readers @leversainz)

(I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts! :3)

------------------

Max comes to slowly at first.

His mind takes its due time to tether back to reality and enter a state that can be considered awake – making several detours through barely-there thoughts and dream-like visions.

There is sunshine falling on his face, warm and welcoming. Max is not yet conscious enough for the rays to register as bright, so he relishes in the warmth until the comfortable blank of his vision becomes more and more orange, threatening to tip him too far into wakefulness.

Languidly stretching, he turns around and away from the light, not tuning into the waking world enough to open his eyes. Crisis averted.

The other side registers as less bright, but not lacking any of the warmth previously supplied by the morning sun. Max smiles at this almost-thought, as he burrows his head into the chest of his own personal burning star. Intending to bask in the provided body heat for at least another hour, he wraps himself around his human ray of sunshine, feeling arms envelope him in turn and almost slips back into full unconsciousness.

However all the movement and bursts of nearly-thinking have seemingly set something in motion within Max’s brain, as he realises two things in quick succession.

One, he should be alone. There should not be another person here. Least of all the one that he is currently wrapped around. And two, all windows in his room are facing west.

Max comes to with a start then.

Memories of the night before flood his mind - sitting in his room, texting Carlos, complaining about being alone (Carlos), tempting (also Carlos), throwing all caution to the wind and sneaking out in the middle of the night (Max), yada yada yada (both of them).

Max should not be here. He is not where he is supposed to be. He needs to get back to his room now or Victoria is going to have him hung, drawn and quartered by noon. Shit.

He must look wild, eyes thrown wide open and darting across the room, quickly scanning his surroundings for any indication of the time. Carlos’ chest, that Max is still very much pressed against, rumbles with barely contained laughter. “Relax cariño, it is still early.”

Not even slightly soothed by that, Max tries to disentangle himself from the embrace, to catch a glimpse at the alarm clock on the nightstand. But the more he struggles, the tighter the hold on him becomes. Still not quite awake enough for words, Max lets out a protesting whine. Carlos only chuckles. Asshole.

“Calm down, mi vida. No one is even up yet.”, Carlos tries again. This time the reassurance is paired with feather-light kisses to the top of Max’s head and all over his face. “And besides, I would’ve woken you on time. Can’t have you start such an important day by panicking, no?” He places one last kiss to Max’s brow, giving him a look that makes any objection pointless. So Max sighs and lets himself sink back fully into the strong arms wrapped around him.

Closing his eyes and focusing on Carlos’ hands running up and down his back, he tries to channel the serenity that had enveloped him just a few minutes ago. Carlos says they have time, so he is going to use it.

But, turns out, being shocked awake kind of prevents one from fully relaxing back into blissful unawareness so soon. Like someone flipped a switch, Max’s mind is suddenly full of thoughts. Less severe realisations bouncing around freely, keeping him awake and stacking up nervous energy. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying not to think about the day ahead, he caves and takes a deep breath – preparing himself for the real world, plans and responsibilities. Okay, next try.

He squints up at Carlos, knowing it makes him look slightly sleep-addled and cute (not Max’s words). “Would you at least tell me what time it actually is?”, Max pleads, “Are you sure no one is awake and scheming our murder right now?” He adds a pained yet sweet smile (he hopes) to complete the package, but only gets an amused look and a raised eyebrow in return. So time for the big guns.

Max stretches to look directly into warm, chocolate brown eyes, blinking slowly. “Schatje”, he almost-whispers, “you know I trust your judgement on the schedule.” Another blink. “And if it was up to me I’d say screw everything and stay in bed with you until the actual ceremony.” Leaning closer, Max presses a barely-there kiss to Carlos’ lips, savouring the way they’re chasing after him when he pulls away slowly. He sighs. “But I also don’t want to give Vicky any tangible excuse to kill me on my wedding day. And being caught in your hotel room on said wedding day, when we were explicitly asked to stay apart, does place very high on the list of things she considers such reasons.”

Max can anticipate the protest from the way Carlos’ arms tighten around him once more and the groan he feels more than hears.

“But all of this is such outdated superstition!” Here it comes.

Carlos is, by all means, not someone who whines. He really isn’t. This is a close call though. If he wasn’t holding Max so tightly, the Dutchman is sure, he would even throw his hands up for emphasis.They’ve been through this before.

“No one except your sister actually believes in it. I certainly don’t and you don’t either.” Carlos rolls onto his back, letting his head fall onto the pillow with a thump. Max follows the movement and settles with his arms crossed on Carlos’ chest, head resting on them. The Spaniard takes a deep breath and meets Max’s eyes. His gaze looks slightly desperate. Huh, this is new.

“I thought I could do this. For you. Because I love you and I know how important your sister is to you. But it is different now that the day is actually here.” Carlos takes another breath, like he is steeling himself for something. “We already have to sneak around all the time, so I refuse to be pressured into doing so, on the one day that we shouldn’t need to. We are getting married for fucks sake. That should mean something. That is supposed to stop all the hiding, all the secrecy.” Carlos now sounds as desperate as he looks and Max is getting slightly worried. Neither of them had been thrilled when Victoria had proposed (read: demanded) they stick to the ‘tradition’ of not seeing each other the night before the wedding, agreeing only to appease her. However, this is an entirely different tone. This is a big deal.

Why has this not come up sooner? They’ve been together for so many years, but with both of them still active in F1 and the sport being what it is, actually coming out has so far been shelved for after they retire. All the people that really matter know anyway. And even though they both regularly voice their frustrations over certain details, they know the only real solution remains one neither of them wants to consider yet. Or is Carlos considering it? Is that what this is about? Does he want to retire? Max tenses. Carlos continues.

“We shouldn’t have to worry about being seen coming out of each other’s hotel room today. We already have that enough during the season. I hate it then and I hate it now. We shouldn’t have to worry about not being seen in the hallway of a hotel, that is entirely booked with guests for our wedding. Why do we even have two rooms? That is such a waste of money and space for such a bullshit superstition.” Carlos huffs, slightly out of breath and Max uses the opportunity to pull him into a deeper kiss. Both to placate Carlos and to calm himself down. He knows they need to have a proper conversation about this. But for what it’s worth, Max thinks that can wait until after they are properly married. It’s only the beginning of summer break. If they choose to, they’ve got enough time to make a real plan for going public or find a way to make the situation more bearable in the future. Today is not about that though. Today is about them and their love, no matter who knows about it. And Max is going to make sure that all the work they put in, to make this whole thing as private and relaxing as possible, is not going to waste. Let’s fix this.

“You’re right.”, he says firmly, when they break apart for long enough to get a word in, “We are getting married and that means something. It means that for once, we call all the shots. No more hiding. No more sneaking.” He smiles brightly at Carlos, who seems to relax more with every word and starts to smile back. Good.

Max sighs again. “I know my sister can be overbearing, but she means well. It’s just that she’s not big on taking risks when it comes to relationships and apparently that includes superstition.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I am very glad I let you tempt me into not spending the night apart.” Max leans in, locking their gazes and whispers: “Because we are getting married today and I could not imagine a better start to married life than waking up next to you, Liefje.” He means to emphasize his point with a small peck, barely long enough to register, but Carlos catches him and they get lost in each other for a while.

“I love you.”, Max breathes against Carlos’ lips when they pull apart. The smile he gets back is almost blinding. “I love you too, mi vida. And today I am going to make sure everyone we meet knows it.” For a moment Max lets himself bask in that and the vision of it maybe becoming the norm someday, before he leans closer again and winks at Carlos conspiratorially. “That sounds lovely. Let’s do that. Of course, I am also going to need you as my personal security against Vicky.”, he says. Carlos rolls his eyes, but Max continues undeterred. “Though I am not going to sneak around, I am also not strong enough to face her wrath. She is my little sister, sure, and this is technically our wedding, but you know as well as I do, that flew out of her head, the moment I made her my maid of honour.” His weak attempt at a joke draws a small chuckle from Carlos.“I would never let anything happen to you, mi amor. You are safe with me, do not worry.”, Carlos grins at Max, who mimics swooning into his arms, “My knight in shining armour.” They both giggle. Better.

There’s little conversation after that, the two of them just lying together, basking in the morning sunlight and the comfortable silence that envelopes the room.

This is probably going to be the last real silence of the day, Max realises. Contentment and excitement are mixing in his gut, forming a cocktail that makes his head spin a little. He doesn’t want this to end. Ever. Never wants to leave this room, this little cocoon of happiness, that they always seem to be able to build. No matter where they are.

But at the same time he can’t wait to get married. Can’t wait to walk down the aisle with his soulmate. Can’t wait to make everything official. Not that 8 years of a dedicated relationship and shared real estate are not official, but there is a small possessive side of him, that puts some more weight into getting to call his boyfriend of 8 years his husband. Husband. Yeah that sounds about right.

Another realisation makes Max perk up. “About the rooms. You know we are paying for the whole hotel, even though not all the rooms are booked. So technically, we are just properly using the otherwise wasted space. This is actively making us waste less money, you see.”, he says. With the words out of his mouth, he’s briefly afraid it’s going to ruin the mood again. But Carlos doesn’t seem to think so, as he just starts laughing loudly. And Max is a weak, weak man when it comes to that laugh, so although he doesn’t really see the joke, he has no choice but to join in.

They have just come down a bit, when Carlos clears his throat. “So, seeing as we don’t like wasting money, maybe we should use up some of the other empty rooms tonight?”, he proposes, scratching his chin like he is trying to solve a very difficult problem. Max emphatically nods. “To keep the wasted money to a minimum of course.”, he agrees.

They burst out laughing again. The best.

[babybulls15]

🥳🥳🥳 ES IST VOLLBRACHT!! I HAVE DONE IT!! 🥳🥳🥳

I'm actually quite surprised, but I really, truly, fully managed to finish the first entry for the Ship Week!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳

I don't know where most of the words I wrote came from, but they somehow made it onto the page and have stayed there for more than a few hours, so I've decided to keep them lmao.

Anyways, very excited to share 6 sentences from my (still unbetaed but at least fully written) Versainz baby!! It started out as one (1) single thought that somehow turned into something I'm pretty proud of, so I hope you'll enjoy this little snippet!! :)))

-

Max is looking at Carlos, eyes filled with the same nervousness and uncertainty as his voice. He is looking at Carlos, like his world really is lying at his feet, broken into a million pieces. Like he has reached his absolute limit and can’t find the strength to puzzle it back together by himself. But also like he isn’t entirely sure if Carlos would be willing to help him with it. Like he thinks that there’s a possibility his teammate – his friend – will actually kick him out in a state like this. I didn’t know where else to go.

✨Stats✨

(real actual) title: hold on (hold on to me tight)

currently standing at 1435 words

prompt-fill for day 1 of the All-Ships-Ship-Week ("I didn't know where else to go")

previously titled true love is taking turns lying saying everything, everything is gonna be alright (which will now be the name of the series this is gonna be part of, all inspired by Taking Turns by The Crane Wives)

If you read any of this just know that I’m very grateful for you!! Thank you for giving me the time of day, I’m so glad you exist!! 💗💗💗

[babybulls15]

I hyped myself up to actually get some pieces together to participate in this year's All-Ships-Ship-Week and now here I am struggling to actually get it done. I keep writing myself into corners and abandoning WIPs, but that ends now.

I've decided to try and make sure I work on at least one of my entries during the week and document my progress here. I hope that this way I can actually get something done, because I do like sharing stuff I'm excited about with you. And I am very excited about this!

So we are starting with some Versainz, that is progressing pretty well at the moment! It's actually something I just randomly started writing one day because I got stressed out by my WIPs with already mapped out plot-lines, so I'm mostly going with the flow. And so far I am liking where the flow is taking me. So I am very excited to share this little snippet with you!! :))

---

Carlos had expected a lot of things to happen this year. Had thought through all kinds of possible routes the season and the relationship with his teammate could take. Had talked about it at length with his father as well. But at no point had any of what he is currently faced with even crossed his mind in passing. Meaning Carlos is not prepared for this in the slightest. Then again, where would a precedent for Max Verstappen breaking down and somehow seeing Carlos’ driver’s room as his only refuge even come from?

---

✨Stats✨

working title true love is taking turns lying, saying everything, everything is gonna be alright

currently standing at 816 words

I'm hoping to finish it until day 1 of the ship week (which is 21.10, so wish me luck lol)

If you read any of this just know that I'm very grateful for you!! Thank you for giving me the time of day, I'm so glad you exist!! 💗💗💗

[lw77]

Carlos thinks back to something Max once said.

“We’re soulmates. In our last life, you left me too soon, so I followed. That’s why you’re older now, and I’m younger.”

Max had said it so plainly, as if it were absolute truth, sensing the hesitation Carlos never voiced. Each time Carlos felt the tight knot of anxiety form—realizing it was Max’s arms he ran to, Max’s hands he clung to, and Max’s gaze that steadied him—those words unraveled the tension.

It was a softness for Max that made his father seethe, a trait he had tried to discipline out of Carlos his whole life. But when his soul was so tightly tethered to Max, it felt inevitable pretending to be otherwise.

just a little *something* from that Versainz soulmate trope I was thinking about today.

[lw77]

Over and Over (MV x CS)

Chapter 2. Do you know?

Max has always known, he wonders does Carlos know too?

It’s late February, with a typical seaside chill in the air, but nothing compares to the cold atmosphere surrounding Toro Rosso’s newest driver. Max can feel it—the skepticism. He’s not even eighteen yet, and he understands why. If it weren’t for his ability to drag that shitbox of a car to pole more times than it deserved in F3, maybe it would get to him. So, he stands tall—awkwardly, as any seventeen-year-old would—no choice, really, with the shadow of his father constantly looming behind him, ready to steer him like the cherished project he’s become.

But Max doesn’t care, not about the yelling, the spittle, or whatever his father has thrown at him through karting, the feeder series, and now here. He loves racing—he’s good at it—and driving a car to its limit feels almost effortless. Yet, that’s not what excites him now—not even the STR10 his father has been endlessly droning on about, going over the changes and improvements from last year to suit Max’s driving style.

None of it matters. Not the relentless coaching or the advice he barely listens to anymore, nodding only to keep his father off his back. Because Max knows what's waiting for him on the other side. He’s always been aware of it—the other half of himself, walking somewhere in the world, always nearby, ever since his consciousness first blinked into being. He’s carried this deep knowing that he’s following someone else’s tracks, trying to find them. He’s sensed them, at times, throughout his life, enough to know who it is. But he’s never been sure whether they felt it too.

Now, though, they’re teammates.

With each step Max takes toward their garage, he can’t help but wonder how they’ll react to the bond. Will there be that soulmate spark like in the movies—two magnets snapping together—or will they embrace, unable to let go, like in the books Victoria reads? There’s a heady thrill in knowing what awaits him: his soulmate. His boyish excitement is obvious, and he quickens his pace. His father, mistaking his urgency, comments on how much he likes Max’s sudden enthusiasm for seeing the car.

Finally, Max rounds the garage, stepping inside with little fanfare, enduring the slaps on his back while his father takes charge, gloating on his behalf. Max is distracted, his attention fixed on one person. He moves toward him: Carlos, deep in thought, his gaze distant as he listens to his father speak. Max wonders idly if overbearing fathers come with the soulmate package in this life, because whatever Carlos is hearing is making his shoulders rise higher and higher until they’re nearly at his ears.

Suddenly, Carlos turns toward him. Max notices the shift—the way Carlos’s lost stare sharpens in recognition, then something more. They lock eyes, and Max watches as the tension in Carlos’s shoulders eases, a wave of calm settling over him. Carlos’s cheeks and nose are flushed red, but they hold each other’s gaze. When Max continues forward, he sees Carlos’s body sway slightly in his direction.

“Hi, Max.” Max extends his hand for a handshake, aware of all the eyes on them in the garage, especially their fathers’.

“Hello, Max, I’m Carlos,” comes the belated introduction as Carlos clasps his hand. A sense of peace, bliss, and home hums where their palms meet, fingers curling together.

“Nice to finally meet you, Carlos,” Max replies, a smile breaking across his face. Carlos feels warm, alive, and Max can’t help but zero in on the space where they stand. For a moment, he’s pulled into the past, catching a glimpse of another meeting where he kissed this same hand, centuries ago—names and places lost to time. Then, he’s back in the garage, squeezing Carlos’s hand to confirm the present. Max wonders if Carlos remembers too, if he saw the same vision, because Carlos wears that same sweet smile he gave Max all those years ago.

Just then, a hand claps onto each of their shoulders—their fathers. Carlos tries to pull away from their prolonged handshake, but Max holds on, letting their palms slide apart slowly, fingers tangling one last time before he steps back.

“I see you boys have met already. Sainz, how are you?” Jos asks, failing to hide his smug smile as he claps Max, his prized trophy, on the shoulder.

“Good, good. Winning championships, you know, Jos?” Sainz Sr. replies, a jeering smile of his own, making Max’s father scowl.

While their fathers posture, Max keeps his gaze locked on Carlos, and Carlos on him. Max wants to reach out again, every part of him alive with the pull of their connection. A deeper part of him aches to hold Carlos against his chest, to feel the softness of his hair and the stubble he’s growing in this life. He wants to walk, sit, run, dance—whatever Carlos desires—by his side. He wants to ask, Do you remember? Do you know? Are you happy? Did you dream of me like I dreamed of you? I’ve been waiting… waiting for so long. Were you waiting for me too?

He snaps out of it when he sees Carlos being steered away toward his engineers by his father. Max’s own dad is angrily muttering under his breath about something Sainz Sr. said, but Max doesn’t care. All that matters is the small glance Carlos gives over his shoulder, like he can’t bear to look away either. And with that, something settles deep within Max— you were waiting too .

[babybulls15]

I am currently writing a small Versainz piece and have seriously started to doubt my grip on the English language. So if anyone would be up for beta reading about 1.9k of inconsequential fluff, I'd really appreciate it. thx :))

[babybulls15]

Heyho hello, I am Mia and I have finally accepted my fate! 🤪

After living in denial for the longest time, I have finally accepted the fact, that my random fandom sideblog has slowly but surely turned into my F1 RPF blog.

And because this is also where I promote my own writing, it might be time to actually introduce myself.

So here we go, I guess...

💫About Me💫

There's actually not very much to be said about me specifically.

I'm Mia (on the internet at least ;D) and I run this Tumblr account, thx byee :))

jk, here are some Tumblr-relevant facts about me:

🙆‍♀️ I'm a cis woman, going by she/her pronouns

💬 I speak English, German, French and a bit of Spanish (I don't tag posts language-specific, though)

⌛ I started my fandom journey on Wattpad and am now very happy to have deboarded that particular train for Tumblr xD

💻 I actually don't have any other social media, because I'm very susceptible to doom-scrolling (but I want memes, so I'm very thankful for Tumblr and my saviour the chronological dash lmao)

❤️ my offline hobbies include but are not limited to: reading, writing, singing, music, photography, knitting, Magic: The Gathering, nature (whatever that means)

📚 I am an indiscriminate enjoyer of all things written down, whether it be traditionally published books, comics or fanfiction

✏️ I wrote some fanfic in my teenage years, switched to poetry for a while, before coming back to long-form fandom writing

🏎️ I've always been really into motor sports of any kind, but kept it mostly offline and regional, F1 has only recently been added to the list and I am actually very surprised by how much I enjoy it (it also managed to get me over my almost decade long writers block so I think I will stay for a bit)

⁉️ Although I am an advocate for Don't like it, don't read it!, I recognize that sometimes it's not that easy. I myself have clear boundaries of what I am and am not comfortable seeing. Therefore, although I do post F1 on my main blog, I've decided to keep the rpf-side of things confined to this sideblog.

💌 I am always delighted to meet new people and make new friends, so if you want to chat, please don't hesitate to send me a DM or an ask!! <3333

💫About this blog💫

Drivers I support a bit more than the others:

🦁 MV1

🌶️ CS55

👑 LH44

💚 NH27

🐨 OP81

I don't hate anyone, these are just the ones I care/post about the most. :))

Posts about particular drivers are mostly tagged with a shorthand just like in the list. :)

Ships that live in my head rent free:

🦁🌶️ Versainz (hence the url ;))

🦁👑 4433

🦁🚗 Lestappen

🌶️🧡 Carlando

🦁🦡 Maxiel

👑👱 Brocedes

🌶🐨 Carcar

🧡🐨 Landoscar

and whatever else tickles my fancy :))

My own two cents are organized like this:

✨ #mia screams into the void but in a different direction for original posts

✨ #mia throws writing into the void for my writing (can also be found on Ao3)

✨ #oh don't go breaking my heart for all the heart-break

✨ #wtf did i just witness for all the mind-break

✨ #oh…oh no for all things 'this is very funny but also wtf people'

✨️ #insane. the lot of them for 20 millionaires going vroom vroom in circles every second weekend being absolute menaces to society

✨️ #lights out and away we meme for...well...memes

✨️ #braking news and griddy rumours for newsies, silly season shenanigans and all other season-related stuff

✨️ #*write write write* for general fandom and writing related posts/memes

✨️ #artsy for anything art (drawings, writing, edits, gifs, ...)

✨️ #smiley (っ´ω`c)♡ for smiley people (mostly Max lol)

I might come up with some more things to differentiate between stuff.

If you have read this far I am very grateful! Thank you for giving me the time of day, I am so glad you exist! (also pls come and chat with me if you want) 🥰🥰