My fear for Dani is that people see how active he is on social media and actively start tagging him in RPF stuff. There is a reason why that stuff should stay in fandom only spaces.
several sentences sunday tuesday wednesday! thanks for the tag, @asterikks :) I don't quite have anything ready for posting at the moment, so here's a small excerpt from moto max (lestappen date), famiglia (max sickfic), and a snippet that's more of a blob than anything while I try to work it out (red bull college au??)
not tagging anyone specific because I am unwell and seriously need a nap but hopefully you all enjoy!! and thank you for the tag!
MOTO MAX
"Just say you're too pussy to do nude beach yoga."
Charles chokes as Max grins at him from across the table, twirling a strand of pasta around his fork. There's a satisfied gleam to his eyes, knowing he's successfully managed to somehow wrangle them into a debate about the merits of different yoga locations.
Charles doesn't even do yoga. He's pretty sure Max doesn't either.
"You are making that sound unreasonable on purpose."
He narrows his eyes as Max's lip twitches, lowering his head to take a bite before leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.
"I just think you are being a prude about it. I thought you were French?"
"You know I'm not—"
He breaks off as Max laughs, head tilted back, and immediately he can feel the flush across his cheeks as he lightly kicks Max's foot under the table.
"You are doing that on purpose."
Max shrugs, the gesture loose and easy, eyes glinting at him, reflecting the warm lighting of the restaurant around them. Charles already knows he's too far gone.
FAMIGLIA
Max knows as soon as he wakes up that it's going to be a long day. There's a tight ache in his arm, splintering up into his shoulder, and his fingers hurt even while he lies still in bed, unwilling to even twitch them. A cold front had been projected to sweep in overnight, and he supposes it's here now, making itself known with a bone deep hurt.
He tucks his head back into the pillow, unwilling to try and move much. GP probably isn't awake yet— his clock on the desk reads 05:45, and he takes a moment to feel sorry for himself that he probably won't be able to fall back asleep now.
His phone is resting on the edge of the desk, close enough to grab normally, but it feels like an insurmountable distance with how he's currently positioned, and he only dares to tug the blanket a bit higher across his shoulder before resigning himself to a fitful doze.
------
"—ax."
He blinks a few times, lifting his head enough to meet GP's concerned gaze. He feels disoriented, head fuzzy, and the back of GP's hand is cool against his forehead. He can hear a concerned breath, but a moment later GP is nudging at him again.
"Max, I need you to sit up for a second."
He will, in a minute, just as soon as he has the energy for it.
"Max,"
Gianpiero sounds worried. Max hates when it's his fault.
UNNAMED BLOB
Arvid goes face first down the stairs, which is really the best possible indicator for Max on how the day is going to go. He stares blankly from where he's standing by the coffee machine, squinting as he tries to make out if the kid is still breathing or not.
There's a muffled groan into the tile, and Max blows out a relived breath.
"Morning."
"Hhhhrrrgghhhh."
Max pours another cup of coffee. Arvid likes to have a little bit of creamer when he thinks no one is looking, but the semester has been rough enough that Max thinks he won't even notice he's basically drinking milk in front of everyone.
There's a jangle of keys in the doorway, and then nails on the hardwood, and Carlos comes around the corner as he unclips Tito's leash, the dog launching himself around the corner and up the stairs. He clears Arvid with an easy jump, and Max knows any second now he'll hear Liam upstairs—
"Motherfu—!"
And that would be Tito making his way through everyone's rooms and waking them up. Max had learned early on that being up before the dog is the only way to avoid a good-morning paw to the gut, and he's waiting to see how long it takes this years freshman to catch on.
oscar when the fandom hates his AI slop shirt, thinks a burger caused him to flop, an actor in a gay hockey show says he has bottom eyes, and half of australia is convinced he’s being sabotaged:
oscar when he learns there’s a 98 million year old prehistoric wasp named after him: this is the greatest honour of my life
kimi not having a normal high school experience is becoming more apparent with each passing day like he's having his first serious schoolboy crush in broad daylight on live television with an audience in the tens of millions
and listen i'd cut him some slack but if he's going courting he can at least be classy about it. i read all 1.3k pages of the count of monte cristo for my first crush and he:
was french
was equally as insane (tolstoy-pilled, read war and peace in the fifth grade)
kimi not having a normal high school experience is becoming more apparent with each passing day like he's having his first serious schoolboy crush in broad daylight on live television with an audience in the tens of millions
every working therapist heard that charles leclerc extended his contract with ferrari and saw their calenders booked solid and their bank accounts overflow
what do you Mean a fan gave kimi the lion plushie to pass it on to max (in exchange for some sweets) and kept reminding him to give it to max...but he kept it and posted it on his instagram story...
i kinda do feel sorry for kimi because he’s trying so hard but he can’t change the fact he’s not an old man or a brazilian baddie or that he never got to push max into a puddle when they were 14 it’s not his fault he’s playing the hand he’s been dealt
i did just finish the norstappen + gp at mclaren fic and while excerpting from that would be the easy way out i am instead offering a snippet from the second (final) part of the max pain transfer fic. enjoyy
A mad thought. No sooner is it set loose than the universe swallows it whole. There is no place for folly in a hull of deformed carbon-fiber alloys, a wreck at the end of the world, or what feels like it. A line abruptly halted.
Again, how it all ends is not on Max’s terms: not his patience wearing thin, not his team falling woefully short, not even the exhilaration of a dusk-night stint around the Nürburgring. No, it falls to ruin with the thrum of a medical chopper’s blades, a protective headset maneuvered over his ringing, red-stained ears by trembling hands that linger even after they’re fitted snug.
There’s a wedding-band on the fourth finger of the left one. GP, then. Max’s body convulses, the violence of it knocking the headset ajar, and noise rushes in once more.
“—the hell’s this,” a medic is demanding, and there’s cautious fiddling at the hip of his racesuit, working its pocket open. A barely perceptible flapping of cloth. GP’s breath catches as Max’s does; in shock, in pain.
“The blood,” GP chokes as if it’s being torn from him, and Max could flinch at how foreign the fear sounds on him. It isn’t becoming, does he know, why is he always having to fret after Max, why is it always like this. “It’s for the blood.”
“Ah,” the medic says uncomprehendingly, because what else can be said, really? “Can’t be helped—he’s lost too much for this.”
She folds the scarlet handkerchief into a hasty square and shoves it between Max’s agony-rigid jaws so he doesn’t bite his tongue and lose that, too.
calling in the cavalry for this one @renndistanz @maxverstockexchange @lsunstreakerl @mikadonian @jup1t33r @alanalevenof1 :) if you already participated and/or don’t feel like it you can:
1. ignore this (but do consider accepting a sunflower on your way out 🌻)
2. share again <3 always lovely to see your work on my dash
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