#maxlos

Summary:

A drunk Vegas joke turns into a very real wedding, a silver ring and one catastrophic FIA database update. Suddenly there are two Verstappens on track, the paddock loses its mind and Max absolutely refuses to stop saying “my husband” on live TV.

Las Vegas GP smelled like burnt rubber, champagne, and bad decisions.

Exactly how Max Verstappen liked it.

The race had ended hours ago, Red Bull’s champagne showers still staining his fireproofs, and the neon lights outside glared like a challenge: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

He didn’t believe that for a second.

Especially not with Carlos Sainz laughing beside him, cheeks flushed from champagne and neon reflections, hair still messy from his podium cap.

They had escaped the afterparty because Max said it was “too loud,” and Carlos, with that fond smile he reserved only for Max, had followed without question.

Now they were sitting in a near-empty diner at 2:47 a.m., still wearing their team hoodies, drinking like teenagers who’d stolen the world’s fastest cars.

Carlos squinting across the table. “Never thought I’d see Max Verstappen drink something that isn’t an energy drink.”

Max shrugged.

Carlos snorted, head tipping back in laughter.

His laughter always did something strange to Max ... something that made him want to hear it again, to make Carlos look at him like that again.

That soft, tired joy.

The kind that came only when they were alone, when the world wasn’t watching.

Max took another sip, eyes lazily dragging over Carlos’s face. “Carlos Verstappen has a nice ring to it, no?”

Carlos blinked. “What?”

Max leaned back, smirking. “Just saying. Sounds good. Like a name that wins races.”

Carlos tilted his head, grin blooming. “Why not? I love it.”

A beat of silence. A spark of challenge in the air. Carlos didn’t look away. Neither did Max.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Max murmured, his voice somewhere between teasing and something much deeper.

Carlos’s smile widened. “I meant it.”

Five minutes later, they were running down the Strip.

….

The Wedding (Of Questionable Legality and Undeniable Passion)

The sign blinked in gaudy gold letters: “24-Hour Elvis Chapel of Love - Walk-ins Welcome!”

Max stopped, breathless, hands on his knees. “You’re joking.”

Carlos, already halfway up the stairs, grinned over his shoulder. “You said it sounded good.”

“We’re drunk.”

“We’re not that drunk.”

“We are,” Max insisted, though he couldn’t stop smiling. “This is ridiculous.”

Carlos looked at him, eyes warm but with a hidden hopeful expression, steady. “You don’t want to?”

And that ... that did him in.

Because of course he did.

Of course he wanted Carlos. Not just for a night or a podium celebration or the way he always smiled at him like he knew something Max didn’t.

He wanted this.

“Fine,” Max said. “But if we’re doing this, I’m keeping my Redbull hoodie on.”

“Deal.”

….

The officiant looked barely awake, sunglasses perched on his nose, a gold jumpsuit glittering in the fluorescent light.

“Do you, uh…” he squinted at the paper, “…Max Verstappen, take this here Carlos Sainz, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Yeah,” Max interrupted. “Sure. Yes.”

Carlos bit back a laugh. “Yes,” he said, softer.

“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada and the spirit of Elvis Presley…” The officiant yawned. “…you may kiss your husband.”

Max blinked. “That’s all?”

Carlos grinned, tugged on Max’s hoodie, and kissed him before he could think twice.

The world went quiet ... just neon lights and warm lips and a spark that felt too real to be a joke.

Someone in the background yelled, “Yo, I’m livestreaming this!”

Neither of them cared.

…..

Max woke to sunlight stabbing him through the blinds and the faint smell of vanilla milkshake.

Carlos groaned beside him. “Where’s my hoodie?”

“Where’s my sanity?” Max muttered, sitting up.

Then he froze. His hand. A silver ring gleaming on his finger.

He turned. Carlos blinked awake, looked down at his own hand, and then up at Max.

“…Well,” Carlos said slowly, “that escalated quickly.”

Max ran a hand through his hair. “Do you think it’s legal?”

Carlos squinted at the coffee table. “There’s paperwork.”

They stared at each other. The same thought crossed both their minds. They were actually married.

Carlos started to laugh first, shoulders shaking. “We’re married idiots.”

Max couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. “Happily Married idiots.”

….

Carlos, ever the responsible one, handled things like an adult.

He sent in the paperwork for his name update.

The problem? Williams PR noticed.

They thought it was a brand collaboration or some Prank.

So they updated the FIA driver registry.

And at the next Grand Prix…

🟦 VER | Williams 🟥 VER | Red Bull

The paddock went nuclear.

Crofty, live on SkySports: “Wait... there are two Verstappens on track?! Has Max swapped teams? Is Carlos related to him now?!”

Ted Kravitz, sprinting down the paddock with a mic: “ARE THEY BROTHERS-IN-LAW NOW OR WHAT?!”

Alex Albon was laughing so hard he nearly dropped his helmet. Lando Norris changed Carlos’s phone contact to “Mr. Verstappen 💍.” Williams’s social media team posted a cryptic meme:

“A new era with Mr. Verstappen  ❤️”

Laurent’s nearly had a heart attack when the FIA database pinged his phone:

Carlos Verstappen - Williams Racing He called legal immediately. “Did we just… accidentally trade a driver?”

Meanwhile, the two newlyweds were in the motorhome, calmly sipping coffee.

Carlos wore his wedding ring openly. Max’s was under his glove.

“Should we tell them?” Carlos asked.

“Nah,” Max said, smirking. “Let’s see how long it takes.”

….

Carlos walks into the garage, hair damp, Williams polo slightly unbuttoned. Max doesn’t even look up from the telemetry. “Morning, Mr. Verstappen,” he says, like it’s the most normal greeting in the world. Carlos freezes, then glares ... but the corners of his mouth betray him. “Max...” “Yes, husband?” Alex bursts out laughing somewhere behind the pit wall.

….

They’re in their Monaco apartment, sunlight spilling across the kitchen. Carlos is cooking; Max is stealing strawberries from the bowl. When Carlos catches him in the act, Max leans against the counter, lazy grin in place. “Careful, Mr. Verstappen,” he drawls. “That knife looks dangerous.” Carlos rolls his eyes. “You only call me that when you’re about to start trouble.” “Or when I want to kiss you.” Max gets both the kiss and a strawberry thrown at him.

….

Reporter: “Max, how do you feel about Carlos’ performance today?” Max: “Oh, brilliant as always. I told him before the race ... my husband doesn’t lose.” Carlos: “Stop calling me that in public.” Max, grinning at the cameras: “Sorry, Mr. Verstappen.”

…

Max 💙: good luck today mr verstappen 😏 Carlos 😴: i told you stop texting me that before quali Max 💙: superstition. every time i say it I end up ahead. Carlos 😴: …fine. mr verstappen loves you too.

….

Carlos is on the couch, reading. Max sprawls on top of him, head in his lap. “You’re heavy,” Carlos murmurs, carding his fingers through Max’s hair. “Weight of love, Mr. Verstappen,” Max mumbles against his thigh. Carlos laughs so softly it vibrates through his skin. “You’re ridiculous.” “Married ridiculous,” Max corrects.

…

Max finds Carlos in parc fermé, helmet still on. Without caring about the cameras, he pulls him into a hug. “Good drive, Mr. Verstappen,” Max whispers against his ear, low enough that only Carlos can hear. Carlos chuckles breathlessly. “You sound proud.” “I am.”

…

During an interview, Max gets asked about his future plans. He starts listing things ... “more wins”... and then, without thinking, adds, “and a honeymoon to wherever Mr. Verstappen wants to go.” He realizes a second too late what he’s said. Carlos is grinning off-camera. The interviewer’s jaw drops. The internet explodes.

…

By Sunday, the rumors were uncontrollable.

Every journalist wanted answers. Every fan had conspiracy theories.

One reporter finally asked during the post-race interview:

“Carlos, can you explain why your name says Verstappen on the board?”

Carlos, completely deadpan: “Because I married him.”

The room exploded.

Max just smirked beside him, leaned toward the mic, and added, “And now he can’t DNF without taking my name down too.”

The paddock went feral.

Oscar fell off his chair. Charles Leclerc yelled, “YOU WHAT?!” Lando started slow-clapping, a bit confused but supportive.

….

Elvis ... yes, that Elvis from the chapel ... showed up at a Red Bull press conference two days later, still in his glittering jumpsuit.

“Boys,” he said solemnly, “you left your bouquet.”

By Sunday night, half the paddock had seen it.

Max’s mom texted him:

“So… should I call him mijn schoondochter now?”

Carlos’s dad pretended to be horrified. “Married to a Verstappen?” he said dramatically ... before adding, “Mi yerno favorito, you better treat my son right.”

The FIA’s official Twitter account even posted:

“We may need a new regulation for name consistency after marriage 📝 #CarlosVerstappen #VegasEdition”

….

That night, back in their hotel room, the world buzzing outside, Max looked at Carlos’s ring again.

Carlos was scrolling through memes about their wedding, grinning at the chaos.

“Do you regret it?” Max asked quietly.

Carlos looked up. “Never. Do you?”

Max shook his head. “No. I think… it makes sense. You’ve been mine for a while anyway.”

Carlos’s smile softened. “Then I guess it was about time we made it official.”

Max leaned in, kissed him slow. “Carlos Verstappen,” he whispered. “You really do have a nice ring to it.”

….

A month later, the FIA still hadn’t sorted the naming mess.

Carlos started hyphenating: Carlos Sainz-Verstappen. Max called him Mr. Sainz-Verstappen in interviews just to make him blush.

PR tried to spin it as a “bonding stunt,” but someone (probably Lando) leaked the actual marriage certificate online.

For two entire races, the official timing sheet still listed:

VER - Red Bull VER - Williams

Fans started calling them “The F1 power couple.”

James Vowles had to sit through a meeting with lawyers explaining why their driver’s husband was technically driving for a rival team.

Carlos and Max just shrugged, holding hands under the table.

Because maybe it started as a joke, or a dare, or a drunken Vegas impulse. But when the engines roared and the cameras flashed, Max’s eyes always found Carlos’s ... a secret grin, a little tilt of the head that said ours.

And under the chaos, the noise, the laughter…

It really was.

Because sometimes, love isn’t a grand plan. Sometimes it’s a 2 a.m. drink and a bad Elvis impersonator.

......

FOR MORE FICS OF MINE VISIT: https://riavolkov.stck.me/

Dear HR, It's a love story - Versainz

Clueless - Carlos poly

Auditioning for love - Versainz

Anti-Romantic dates - Versainz

The Haunted flatshare - Carlos poly

Summary:

Carlos Sainz met one baby and instantly lost all sense of selfcontrol. Now, armed with baby fever, seductive shirts and zero subtlety, he’s on a mission to make his four himbo husbands actual fathers, whether they notice or not.

Carlos Sainz gets full-blown baby fever after spending one afternoon with Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber’s adorable baby girl, Grace. He comes home starry-eyed, hormonal (in his mind), and ready for a baby. The only problem? His four himbo husbands...Max, Charles, Lando, and Oscar...are as observant as a bag of rocks.

……….

Carlos sees baby Grace, holds her once, and something in him breaks. He comes home whispering:

“She was so small. So cute. Smelled like powder and dreams.”

Max: “I like powder.” Charles: “You can buy dream-scented candles.” Lando: “Do you want…a pillow that smells like Grace?” Oscar: “I could knit something.”

Carlos stares. The baby fever intensifies.

……………

Carlos starts:

Leaving books on baby names around.

Casually Googling “best baby monitors 2025” while screen-sharing.

Sighing loudly during Disney movies and clutching his stomach.

Max thinks Carlos has a stomach ache. Charles gives him mint tea. Lando orders lactose-free milk just in case. Oscar offers yoga.

Carlos: “I am surrounded by morons.”

…………….

Carlos is trying. He’s really trying.

He’s baked. He’s decorated. He’s researched ovulation cycles like he’s prepping for a thesis. And still...still...he is being ignored.

Today, he’s pulled out the big guns.

The Bookshelf of Desperation

Carlos lines the living room bookshelf with subtle classics like:

“100,000 Baby Names from Around the World”

“Co-Sleeping for Poly Families”

“The Bump and the F1 Calendar”

“How to Tell Your Four Husbands You’re Ready to Be Knocked Up”

Charles walks past, eyes the books, hums.

“Aw, That’s such a good name for our next pet.”

Carlos stares at the ceiling.

Carlos (to himself):

“Why are French men so pretty and so dense?”

……

Seduction Mode: Activated

Carlos enters the kitchen wearing a crop top that reads “FERTILE AF.” It clings like it was painted on. His sweatpants are dangerously low. He’s not wearing underwear. He’s also “bent over” the counter at an angle OSHA would object to.

Max walks in, yawning.

Max:

“Carlos, your shirt looks tight. You sure it’s not cutting circulation?”

Carlos:

“Maximilian. Seriously?.”

Max (nodding thoughtfully):

“Yeah, definitely tight. I’ll order the next size up.”

Carlos slams his head into the marble.

….

Carlos stretches dramatically infront of Charles,

His back arches. He moans. Moans. Like he's in a Calvin Klein ad directed by Lucifer himself.

Across the room:

Pierre:

“Mon Dieu...”

His smoothie hits the floor.

Yuki (screaming):

“He’s ascending! Cover your eyes, Isack!”

Daniel (dazed):

“It’s beautiful.” Walks directly into the tire rack.

Ollie (shielding Kimi’s face):

“No, baby, look at the floor. Look at the floor.”

George (from across the garage, sipping tea):

“See, this is why I only talk to Toto and my cat.”

Charles:

Do you want a massage, love?

…

Carlos corners Oscar in the kitchen. He’s shirtless, glistening with suspiciously strategic oil, biting into a strawberry.

Carlos:

“Wouldn’t it be so sexy if you bred me against this kitchen counter, right now? Like, filled me up until I can’t walk?”

Oscar:

“Do you want to remodel the kitchen? I’ve been telling Lando that counter height’s too low.”

Carlos’s soul leaves his body.

....

George (hosting):

“Welcome to ‘Drivers Who Have Accidentally Witnessed Carlos Sainz’s Heat Phase.’ Let’s go around the circle.”

Pierre (shaken):

“I still see the crop top when I close my eyes.”

Yuki:

“I’ve forgotten my mother’s face.”

Daniel (dreamy):

“He was so shiny…”

…

Carlos escalates further:

Leaves baby clothes on the bed.

Sends Max an ultrasound meme with “soon?” in the caption.

Calls himself “Mama Sainz” in the groupchat.

And still… nothing.

Until Charles finally goes:

“Wait, are you ovulating?”

Carlos: “I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET YOU TO BREED ME FOR TWO WEEKS.”

Max: “I thought you had a cupcake kink.”

……

Meanwhile in Paddock Hell

The paddock is in full chaos.

Alex Albon is now carrying holy water.

Daniel Ricciardo is laughing but nervously.

Zhou has a “DO NOT LET CARLOS NEAR YOU” sticker.

Lance just mutters “not again” and walks away whenever Carlos appears.

Christian is chasing Toto, yelling “If Carlos gets a baby I WANT A BABY TOO.”

Toto: “Christian this is harassment...AND THAT’S NOT HOW BABIES WORK.”

……

Location: A meeting room in the Mercedes hospitality suite. Attendees:

Toto (regretting his entire career)

Christian (carrying holy water and a baby rosary)

Fred Vasseur (drinking)

The rookies (huddled together like ducklings)

George (appointed moderator against his will)

Special guest: Sebastian Vettel (for spiritual guidance)

George (serious voice):

“We’re here today because we believe Carlos Sainz has been... possessed.”

Christian:

“By a fertility demon. A very horny one.”

Ollie (whispers):

“He looked at Toto and said ‘Are you next?’”

Toto (monotone):

“I have not known peace since Abu Dhabi 2021. But this is worse.”

……

Seb (gently):

“Carlos, darling, I support you. Just… maybe wait until someone notices your heat pheromones before you melt the paddock.”

Carlos (throws hands up):

“Thank you, Sebastian. At least one German understands me.”

…

Charles (blinking):

“Wait… Carlos wants to be pregnant?”

Carlos (deadpan):

“You’re the smartest Ferrari driver in years, babe.”

Oscar:

“But you were just being… weird.”

Carlos:

“I wore a shirt that said ‘fill me up like a tank on strategy day.’”

Max:

“I thought it was a fuel efficiency thing.”

….

Carlos finally explains it clearly. All four husbands nod. There’s a pause.

Max (already shirtless):

“To the bedroom?”

Carlos:

“Make me a father, Verstappen.”

Lando (dragging Carlos):

“No more hints. Next time just text ‘breed me now.’”

Meanwhile, the rookies:

Ollie (to Kimi):

“...Do you think we’ll ever understand adult love?”

Kimi (eating cupcake sperm):

“No. But it’s funny.”

Isack and Gabe:

"We are happy to have a baby sibling"

…

 One Year Later

Baby Alejandro Verstappen-Leclerc-Norris-Piastri-Sainz is born.

Pierre is the honorary gay uncle.

Toto refuses to talk about “The Incident.”

Carlos is glowing, smug, and keeps calling himself “Mamá of the Year."

......

FOR MORE FICS OF MINE VISIT: https://riavolkov.stck.me/

4 times the PR team panicked + 1 time they gave up - carlos poly

Our boyfriend is a Vampire? - Carlos poly

Spanish for dummies - Carlos poly

My Neighbor Hates Me: So Why’s He Bringing Me Soup? - Versainz

Summary:

Four emotionally unstable rookies, one beloved Carlos Sainz, and a heartbreak that launched a polyamorous mission. What began with gelato-fueled tears turned into a fanfic so powerful, it manifested real forehead kisses and confessions from Max, Charles, Oscar, and Lando. Now, Carlos is in a polycule—and the Rookie Squad? Absolute legends.

.....

Starring: Four emotionally unstable rookies, too much gelato, and one very beloved Carlos Sainz.

It started with a single tear.

No one knows if it belonged to Ollie, Kimi, Isack, or Gabe, but it fell—tragically—after their 397th Charlos Instagram edit in a single night after Carlos’s leaving Ferrari …. Carlos leaving Charles

“He looked at Charles like he hung the stars!” Isack wailed into his triple-chocolate sundae. “Did you see Charles’s face in Monaco ‘21? That’s not just teammate energy—that’s soulmates,” Gabe added, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion and too much cookie dough ice cream.

By the time they hit edit #432—one where the audio whispered “I was made for loving you” while Charles longingly watched Carlos walk down the paddock—they were in shambles.

But they were also ready. The rookies stood, gelato-stained and mascara-smudged (Isack insisted on committing to the aesthetic), and said in unison: “We’re getting Charlos back together.”

….

Phase 1: Emotional Reconnaissance. Step one: hang out with Carlos. Easy. He loved them. Called them his “babies” and brought them home-baked cookies in Tupperware. Papa Sainz energy, full throttle.

So they loitered around him at the track the next day. Casual. Innocent. “Carlos, have you…spoken to Charles lately?” Ollie asked, twirling a Red Bull can like a nervous ex-girlfriend.

Carlos blinked, paused, and then gave a soft, slightly pink-cheeked, “Sí…he texted me a meme.”

They almost cried. Communication. A sign! A spark!

But then Kimi, ever the sharp-eyed observer, elbowed Isack hard and hissed, “Look. Max is looking at Carlos. Like—like—he’s seeing his whole future.”

And indeed, Max Verstappen, Deadpan King, was eyeing Carlos from across the hospitality tent like a man looking at the only thing that tethered him to life.

And then Oscar walked by, smiled politely at Carlos, and Carlos blushed.

And then Lando arrived with a “CARLITO!” and an arm thrown around Carlos’s waist—and Carlos leaned into it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The rookies were frozen. Phase 1: inconclusive. Or rather, conclusively more complicated than they thought.

….

Phase 2: Ship Watch.

What began as Charlos healing spiraled into full-blown espionage. Their hotel room became the operations center, a conspiracy wall of screenshots, Instagram comments, on-board radios, and coded glances.

They divided tasks:

Kimi was in charge of Versainz edits.

Isack handled Carlando content.

Gabe trawled the depths of the Carcar tag.

Ollie? Still team Charlos, but... open to polyamory now.

“We can’t choose for him,” Gabe said wisely one night. “But we can give him the environment to choose…all of them.”

…..

Phase 3: Fanfic Therapy.

There was only one solution left. They wrote fanfic.

Collaborative, 50k slow-burn fluff/angst/smut fic titled: "The Sainz Effect: Love in Four Corners" Featuring:

Jealous Charles punching a wall

Max pretending he’s not soft for Carlos (failing)

Oscar stuttering through his feelings

Lando nearly proposing by accident

Carlos being adored and loved and finally realizing he can have it all

They published it anonymously under the pseudonym TheRookieSquad55.

Within hours, it trended on AO3.

Charles liked a suspiciously emotional tweet about it. Max posted a photo of Carlos with the caption: “Mine?” ofcourse under a very fake account with the username ‘DutchLion’ but the only flaw was that the account was followed by Max’s real account. Pretty dumb. Pretty bold.

Lando posted a meme about “sharing is caring.” Oscar sent a playlist titled “If I could tell you.”

The rookies shared a knowing glance.

Mission status: In progress… but love is inevitable.

…………

The rookies read the fanfic they wrote for the 5th time because they just can’t get over it.

Scene 1: Charles Punches a Wall (a.k.a. The Monaco Incident)

“You were mine first.” The words tasted bitter on Charles’s tongue, like champagne turned to vinegar.

He watched as Carlos laughed—soft, golden, that little crinkle at the edge of his eyes—at something Lando whispered in his ear.

Lando. Lando who knew how Charles felt. Who had the audacity to touch Carlos’s shoulder like he belonged there.

The sound of knuckles hitting concrete echoed around the garage wall.

Charles didn’t even feel it. Not the pain. Only the heat in his chest, and the way Carlos turned around at the sound—worried, soft, Carlos—and looked at him with something fragile in his eyes.

Don’t make me choose, that look said.

But Charles already had.

……………

Scene 2: Max Cracks

Carlos always made him feel like a man unraveling slowly—thread by thread, too stubborn to admit he’d already come undone.

So when Max found him sitting alone in the motorhome—head in his hands, hair mussed from his helmet—it should’ve been easy to walk away. To pretend he didn’t care.

But Carlos looked up. Just once. One single, vulnerable look. And Max sat beside him.

Not touching. Just breathing. Like he was afraid he’d break something sacred if he moved too fast.

“I know what it looks like,” Carlos whispered.

“I don’t care,” Max said. “I just want you to look at me the way you look at him.”

And when Carlos finally did?

Max forgot how to breathe.

………..

Scene 3: Oscar’s Confession (ft. Panic and Adorable Meltdown)

Oscar Piastri did not do feelings.

He drove fast, thought faster, and panicked in silence like any good Aussie boy with emotional repression and a secret crush the size of Spa.

So when Carlos brushed a bit of confetti off his shoulder post-podium and said, “You looked beautiful out there, mate,” Oscar short-circuited.

He choked on his drink. Then said, “You too. I mean, no—that you looked beautiful—wait—actually, you kind of always look beautiful—I MEAN FAST—NO—”

Carlos just blinked, then smiled gently and said, “Gracias, cariño.”

Oscar blacked out for five seconds and then wrote a 5,000-word love letter in his Notes app. That he will never send. Probably. Maybe. …Eventually.

………….

Scene 4: Lando Accidentally Proposes (??)

Lando had a plan. It was called: Be Normal Around Carlos.

It was going great until Carlos showed up to a team dinner in a navy button-up that did things to Lando’s brain chemistry.

Somewhere between dessert and Carlos licking chocolate mousse off a spoon, Lando blurted out:

“I’d marry you.”

The table went silent. George dropped his fork. Zhou gasped. Charles blinked very hard.

Carlos looked stunned. Then—he smiled. Not teasing. Not amused. Just soft.

“Let me know when you’re serious,” he said.

Lando didn't sleep for three days.

……….

Carlos Finds the Fanfic

Carlos Sainz was just trying to look up tyre stats when his search history accidentally autocompleted to:

“the sainz effect love in four corners ao3”

Curious, he clicked.

What he found was…a 60k word slow burn polyamorous epic starring himself, and four very emotionally constipated men who loved him.

He read the entire thing in one night.

He laughed. He cried. He questioned if the scene where Max cries into his hoodie after Carlos gets a cramp was too accurate.

Then he scrolled to the author notes. “For Carlos, who deserves to be loved by everyone and get fed grapes while lying on a throne. Signed, RookieSquad55.”

Carlos smiled.

The next day, he showed up to the rookies’ room with cookies and quietly said:

“If I had to choose between the four… I wouldn’t. So maybe you're right.”

…………

The rookies had a simple morning plan:

Wake up.

Cry a little over Carlos’s Monaco 2022 onboard.

Check AO3 stats on “The Sainz Effect: Love in Four Corners.”

Maybe write another chapter where Carlos gets pampered in a silk robe.

But when they opened their fanfic dashboard—

1,243 NEW COMMENTS. Total Bookmarks: 897. Kudos from: “madmax33_😡❤️”, “landoNO1sainzfan4eva”, “silentPiastri”, and more.

They froze.

Gabe: “No way. No actual way.” Kimi: “They found it. They found the fic.” Isack: screaming into a pillow Ollie: “We’re so dead. We wrote smut! “

…..

Comment Highlights (and Rookie Reactions)

-

User: madmax33_ 😡❤️

“Honestly the Max scenes are the most accurate. Especially the part where he tries to act cool but secretly wants to hold Carlos’s hand forever. Not that I would know.”

Kimi: “Okay that’s just Max. That’s literally Max trying not to admit he cried at chapter 9.” Isack: “Why is there an angry emoji and a heart? That’s a summary of his entire personality.”

….

User: landoNO1sainzfan4eva

“i would NEVER accidentally propose. also carlos would look hot in a wedding tux just saying.” (left under Chapter 7: The Accidental Proposal)

Ollie: “I think he just doubled down on the proposal.” Gabe: “Carlos is totally reading this. I bet he’s blushing.” Isack: “I bet Lando knows he’s blushing. And is smug about it.”

….

User: silentPiastri

“The Oscar confession was a little dramatic… but realistic. Also, his playlist would be better than the one in the fic. No offense.”

Gabe: “Oscar made a playlist. We invented canon.” Kimi: “Wait, he just admitted he’d confess. Oscar’s in love and in denial.”

….

User: monegasqueCaveman

“Charles is NOT dramatic. He is FRENCH. I mean MONEGASQUE. This is defamation. but also yes he punched a wall. he would do it again.”

Isack: “That’s Charles. That’s absolutely Charles.” Ollie: “He capitalized MONEGASQUE like it’s a personality trait.” Gabe: “Also? He would do it again.”

….

User: sainzsimp08 (username changed 4 times in 2 days)

“beautiful. emotional. i cried. carlos deserves to be adored by everyone. 11/10. also can you write a scene where he gets a forehead kiss from each of them? hypothetically.”

Everyone: “Carlos.” Kimi: “This is his fourth username. Yesterday it was ‘sunshineinspanish’ and before that it was ‘softandsainz’.” Isack: “He’s requesting forehead kisses . For himself. I love him so much.”

…

User: totosdaddy99

“i do not understand what is happening here. but i approve.”

Ollie: “...Toto?” Gabe: “OH MY GOD.” ….

User: sebiswatchingyou

“Ah, young love. Brings a tear to the eye. And some therapy bills.”

Everyone: “Sebastian Vettel reads our fanfic. We can die now.”

_

The Rookies’ Group Chat (Immediately After)

Isack: “Operation Polycule is no longer fanon. It’s manifesting.” Ollie: “Do we write a sequel? Or a scene where they all move in together?” Gabe: “We write Carlos getting a forehead kiss. Immediately.” Kimi: “Also a smut chapter. Max deserves to be feral.” Everyone: “Agreed.

………..

It starts with Max.

He’s the first to find Carlos’s comment—hidden under the username sainzsimp08—and he stares at the screen like he’s trying to decode a love confession written in Morse code.

"Can you write a scene where he gets a forehead kiss from each of them? Hypothetically."

There’s nothing hypothetical about it.

…..

Max (in the Red Bull garage):

“He wants forehead kisses.”

Lando (from behind a helmet rack):

“Excuse me???”

Oscar (who has been very quiet since Chapter 13):

“That’s—wait—he asked them for kisses? Like us-them? Like the fic versions of us?”

Charles (ripping off his gloves):

“I knew that was him. Mon dieu. If he wants forehead kisses, he gets forehead kisses. Not fanfiction ones. Mine.”

-

Scene: The Great Motorhome March of 2025

Carlos was just trying to take a nap. He had no idea a revolution was headed his way.

The door to his Ferrari motorhome swings open dramatically.

Carlos (sitting up, groggy): “Max?”

Max: “Get up.”

Carlos: “Why—”

Max (crossing the room): “You asked for forehead kisses. So you’re getting forehead kisses.”

He gently cups Carlos’s face and leans in. The softest touch of lips to Carlos’s forehead. Quick. Firm. Dangerous.

Carlos (blinking): “What the—”

Charles (bursting in, rage powered by love): “You wrote that comment?! You absolute, soft idiot! You deserve to be kissed. So I will do it every day for the rest of your life.”

Forehead kiss. Then a cheek kiss. Then one on the tip of his nose.

Carlos forgets how to breathe.

…

Oscar (appearing awkwardly in the doorway):

“Uh. Hi. Sorry. I didn’t plan a speech. But... I really like you. More than just platonic, ‘I wrote a fanfic about you’ kind of like. And I don’t know how to say it, so...”

He walks up, looks at Carlos with reverent hesitation, and presses a feather-light kiss to his forehead.

Carlos (eyes wide, voice shaky):

“Oscar…”

Oscar (blushing furiously):

“I made you a playlist too. Just. FYI.”

…..

Lando (last to enter, voice unusually quiet):

“Did you really think you could drop a forehead kiss request and not expect me to do something insane about it?”

He walks straight up to Carlos, curls a hand around his neck, and presses his forehead against Carlos’s for a second before kissing it firmly.

“I’m in love with you. And I don’t mind sharing. But I’m not stepping back. Not anymore.”

……

Scene: Carlos Sainz.exe Has Crashed

Four beautiful men. Four forehead kisses. Four confessions.

Carlos stares at them. Red to the tips of his ears. Teary-eyed. Stunned silent.

“I… I didn’t think anyone would actually… I mean, I thought it was just a silly fic. I didn’t think you all—"

Charles: “We all did. We just thought you didn’t.”

Max: “Turns out we’re all idiots.”

Oscar: “But compatible ones.”

Lando: “So. Polycule?”

Carlos (choking a laugh through a tear):

“Only if I still get more forehead kisses.”

…..

All four (in harmony):

“Deal.”

…

Tagline: Carlos Sainz now lives in a polycule. We did that.

Location: Rookie Squad Headquarters (aka Ollie’s hotel room) Time: 3:42 p.m. Status: Screaming.

The boys were innocently checking AO3 stats when the chaos began.

Ollie (yelling):

“GUYS. HE GOT THE KISSES. HE GOT THE F***ING KISSES.”

Isack (in a blanket burrito):

“What? What do you mean—”

Kimi (already on Twitter):

“Live footage. Max kissed his forehead. Charles double tapped. Oscar almost fainted and Lando looked like he proposed through a forehead press. It’s happening.”

Gabe (drops his soda can):

“I am a god.”

-

The Rookie Group Chat

Ollie:

🥹 guys we did this THEY’RE REAL

Isack:

do we get credited in their wedding vows or

Gabe:

I want them to kiss in front of us just so we can sob dramatically

Kimi:

should we write a sequel where they all adopt a dog and name it after a tire compound

__

Rookie AO3 Author Notes Update

Chapter 15: Forehead Kisses IRL

Author’s Note: GUYS. GUYS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. The fic is now a DOCUMENTARY. Max kissed Carlos’s forehead. Charles confessed. Oscar BLUSHED. Lando threatened our hearts. WE. DID. THAT.

Please leave kudos in the form of real-life validation or pictures of Carlos smiling.

P.S. Thank you for 50K hits. And thank you to sainzsimp08, wherever you are. You beautiful, soft man.

Rookie Victory Dance (as seen on Ollie’s Insta Story)

Kimi holding up a sign that says: “LOVE WINS. SO DOES OUR SHIP.”

Isack fake-sobbing with a tub of gelato.

Gabe wearing a handmade “#TeamPolycule” shirt.

Ollie dramatically reenacting the forehead kisses using a pillow labeled “Carlos.”

Background music: “Can’t Help Falling in Love” but it’s a sped-up nightcore remix.

Final Line:

Gabe (looking into the distance, emotional):

“We watched 400 edits. Ate 3 tubs of ice cream. Wrote a fanfic that broke the internet. And now… Papa Sainz is loved like he deserves. By four chaotic men who’d kiss him on the forehead even at Parc Fermé.”

Ollie:

“This is better than winning a world title.”

Isack:

“We’re not just rookies. We’re cupid-certified content creators.”

.....

FOR MORE FICS OF MINE VISIT: https://riavolkov.stck.me/

Dear HR, It's a love story - Versainz

The Christmas Pitstop - Carlos poly

Fool my heart - Versainz

The Haunted flatshare - Carlos poly

Summary:

Carlos Sainz met one baby and instantly lost all sense of selfcontrol. Now, armed with baby fever, seductive shirts and zero subtlety, he’s on a mission to make his four himbo husbands actual fathers, whether they notice or not.

Carlos Sainz gets full-blown baby fever after spending one afternoon with Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber’s adorable baby girl, Grace. He comes home starry-eyed, hormonal (in his mind), and ready for a baby. The only problem? His four himbo husbands...Max, Charles, Lando, and Oscar...are as observant as a bag of rocks.

……….

Carlos sees baby Grace, holds her once, and something in him breaks. He comes home whispering:

“She was so small. So cute. Smelled like powder and dreams.”

Max: “I like powder.” Charles: “You can buy dream-scented candles.” Lando: “Do you want…a pillow that smells like Grace?” Oscar: “I could knit something.”

Carlos stares. The baby fever intensifies.

……………

Carlos starts:

Leaving books on baby names around.

Casually Googling “best baby monitors 2025” while screen-sharing.

Sighing loudly during Disney movies and clutching his stomach.

Max thinks Carlos has a stomach ache. Charles gives him mint tea. Lando orders lactose-free milk just in case. Oscar offers yoga.

Carlos: “I am surrounded by morons.”

…………….

Carlos is trying. He’s really trying.

He’s baked. He’s decorated. He’s researched ovulation cycles like he’s prepping for a thesis. And still...still...he is being ignored.

Today, he’s pulled out the big guns.

The Bookshelf of Desperation

Carlos lines the living room bookshelf with subtle classics like:

“100,000 Baby Names from Around the World”

“Co-Sleeping for Poly Families”

“The Bump and the F1 Calendar”

“How to Tell Your Four Husbands You’re Ready to Be Knocked Up”

Charles walks past, eyes the books, hums.

“Aw, That’s such a good name for our next pet.”

Carlos stares at the ceiling.

Carlos (to himself):

“Why are French men so pretty and so dense?”

……

Seduction Mode: Activated

Carlos enters the kitchen wearing a crop top that reads “FERTILE AF.” It clings like it was painted on. His sweatpants are dangerously low. He’s not wearing underwear. He’s also “bent over” the counter at an angle OSHA would object to.

Max walks in, yawning.

Max:

“Carlos, your shirt looks tight. You sure it’s not cutting circulation?”

Carlos:

“Maximilian. Seriously?.”

Max (nodding thoughtfully):

“Yeah, definitely tight. I’ll order the next size up.”

Carlos slams his head into the marble.

….

Carlos stretches dramatically infront of Charles,

His back arches. He moans. Moans. Like he's in a Calvin Klein ad directed by Lucifer himself.

Across the room:

Pierre:

“Mon Dieu...”

His smoothie hits the floor.

Yuki (screaming):

“He’s ascending! Cover your eyes, Isack!”

Daniel (dazed):

“It’s beautiful.” Walks directly into the tire rack.

Ollie (shielding Kimi’s face):

“No, baby, look at the floor. Look at the floor.”

George (from across the garage, sipping tea):

“See, this is why I only talk to Toto and my cat.”

Charles:

Do you want a massage, love?

…

Carlos corners Oscar in the kitchen. He’s shirtless, glistening with suspiciously strategic oil, biting into a strawberry.

Carlos:

“Wouldn’t it be so sexy if you bred me against this kitchen counter, right now? Like, filled me up until I can’t walk?”

Oscar:

“Do you want to remodel the kitchen? I’ve been telling Lando that counter height’s too low.”

Carlos’s soul leaves his body.

....

George (hosting):

“Welcome to ‘Drivers Who Have Accidentally Witnessed Carlos Sainz’s Heat Phase.’ Let’s go around the circle.”

Pierre (shaken):

“I still see the crop top when I close my eyes.”

Yuki:

“I’ve forgotten my mother’s face.”

Daniel (dreamy):

“He was so shiny…”

…

Carlos escalates further:

Leaves baby clothes on the bed.

Sends Max an ultrasound meme with “soon?” in the caption.

Calls himself “Mama Sainz” in the groupchat.

And still… nothing.

Until Charles finally goes:

“Wait, are you ovulating?”

Carlos: “I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET YOU TO BREED ME FOR TWO WEEKS.”

Max: “I thought you had a cupcake kink.”

……

Meanwhile in Paddock Hell

The paddock is in full chaos.

Alex Albon is now carrying holy water.

Daniel Ricciardo is laughing but nervously.

Zhou has a “DO NOT LET CARLOS NEAR YOU” sticker.

Lance just mutters “not again” and walks away whenever Carlos appears.

Christian is chasing Toto, yelling “If Carlos gets a baby I WANT A BABY TOO.”

Toto: “Christian this is harassment...AND THAT’S NOT HOW BABIES WORK.”

……

Location: A meeting room in the Mercedes hospitality suite. Attendees:

Toto (regretting his entire career)

Christian (carrying holy water and a baby rosary)

Fred Vasseur (drinking)

The rookies (huddled together like ducklings)

George (appointed moderator against his will)

Special guest: Sebastian Vettel (for spiritual guidance)

George (serious voice):

“We’re here today because we believe Carlos Sainz has been... possessed.”

Christian:

“By a fertility demon. A very horny one.”

Ollie (whispers):

“He looked at Toto and said ‘Are you next?’”

Toto (monotone):

“I have not known peace since Abu Dhabi 2021. But this is worse.”

……

Seb (gently):

“Carlos, darling, I support you. Just… maybe wait until someone notices your heat pheromones before you melt the paddock.”

Carlos (throws hands up):

“Thank you, Sebastian. At least one German understands me.”

…

Charles (blinking):

“Wait… Carlos wants to be pregnant?”

Carlos (deadpan):

“You’re the smartest Ferrari driver in years, babe.”

Oscar:

“But you were just being… weird.”

Carlos:

“I wore a shirt that said ‘fill me up like a tank on strategy day.’”

Max:

“I thought it was a fuel efficiency thing.”

….

Carlos finally explains it clearly. All four husbands nod. There’s a pause.

Max (already shirtless):

“To the bedroom?”

Carlos:

“Make me a father, Verstappen.”

Lando (dragging Carlos):

“No more hints. Next time just text ‘breed me now.’”

Meanwhile, the rookies:

Ollie (to Kimi):

“...Do you think we’ll ever understand adult love?”

Kimi (eating cupcake sperm):

“No. But it’s funny.”

Isack and Gabe:

"We are happy to have a baby sibling"

…

 One Year Later

Baby Alejandro Verstappen-Leclerc-Norris-Piastri-Sainz is born.

Pierre is the honorary gay uncle.

Toto refuses to talk about “The Incident.”

Carlos is glowing, smug, and keeps calling himself “Mamá of the Year.”

............

FOR MORE FICS OF MINE VISIT: https://riavolkov.stck.me/

Dear HR, It's a love story - Versainz

The Christmas Pitstop - Carlos poly

The Haunted flatshare - Carlos poly

Summary:

Grumpy, Christmas-hating Max slowly falls for the holiday with Carlos ...through hot chocolate, tangled lights, and stubborn warmth. By Christmas Eve, he realizes it was never the season he hated, just the loneliness.

Max Verstappen doesn’t hate Christmas. He just doesn’t get the point.

The songs are annoying. The lights are overwhelming. People suddenly pretend to be nice to each other and wear fuzzy sweaters like that will fix anything.

He tells people it’s too commercial. Too fake.

But the truth?

Max hates Christmas because it reminds him he’s always been alone.

He remembers Decembers spent in hotels during testing. Cold mornings. His dad telling him to eat faster, train harder.

The only twinkle lights were the cheap ones blinking in the corner of some race engineer’s office. No stockings. No carols. No family dinners.

Even now, when he's technically not alone — he has friends, a team, fans — he still feels like he's the one always watching everyone else celebrate from a distance.

Then Carlos happens.

And Carlos, his boyfriend is everything Max isn’t — warm, loud, annoying, persistent, and utterly, unapologetically obsessed with Christmas.

...........

Carlos loves Christmas.

Like, obnoxiously loves it.

He decorates on December 1st. He has a playlist. He bakes. He burns things, yes, but he tries. He drags Max to Christmas markets, hums Christmas songs in the garage, and wears holiday socks like a man possessed.

“C’mon, Verstappen,” he says one afternoon, half buried in tangled lights. “Even you can’t be immune to this much joy.”

Max glares at him. “Watch me.”

But Carlos doesn’t back down. He never does.

That’s what makes him Carlos.

...........

It starts with Carlos showing up at Max’s Monaco flat with a tree.

Not a small one. A massive, bushy, pine-scented monster of a thing.

“You’re welcome,” he says, brushing snow off his jacket.

Max blinks. “What is that?”

“It’s a tree, Max. A Christmas tree. And we’re putting it up together.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Too bad. Already in your living room.”

Max grumbles. Carlos smiles like he’s already won.

And maybe he has.

...........

That night, Max ends up helping hang lights.

Carlos hums along to his playlist while arranging ornaments — weird ones, like a clay reindeer and a bauble shaped like an engine. He insists on hot chocolate. Not the packet kind — real stuff with milk, cinnamon.

Max sips it with a reluctant grunt. It’s good. It’s too good. Annoyingly so.

“You’re trying to make me like Christmas, aren’t you?”

Carlos smiles over the rim of his mug. “Is it working?”

Max doesn’t answer.

But when Carlos leans over to stick a star on the tree and his shirt rides up just enough to show skin, Max definitely isn’t thinking about how much he hates the holidays anymore.

.......

A week passes.

More decorations. More cocoa. More Carlos.

They watch Christmas movies on Max’s couch. Max protests — “this is stupid” — but halfway through The Holiday, Carlos catches him watching the screen with soft eyes.

Carlos nudges him. “You’re melting.”

“Shut up.”

One night, Carlos falls asleep on the couch, head on Max’s shoulder. Max doesn’t move for hours.

He just… stays.

And breathes.

And lets himself pretend.

............

It’s Christmas Eve.

They’re wrapping presents together. Carlos is in a red hoodie that says Sleigh My Name, and Max is wearing the reindeer socks Carlos gave him last week, which he swore he’d never wear.

Carlos pauses mid-ribbon and looks at him.

“You don’t hate it,” he says, smiling, but quiet.

Max looks up. “What?”

“This. Christmas. All of it. You don’t hate it.”

Max doesn’t reply right away. His fingers twist the corner of the wrapping paper.

“No,” he admits softly. “I hated being alone during it.”

Carlos’s eyes soften.

“You’re not alone now,” he says.

And that’s when Max kisses him.

Just once. Soft. Sure.

Carlos blinks. And then he’s smiling into it.

............

The lights from the tree cast a golden glow across the living room. Carlos is curled up on Max’s lap, legs draped over his thighs, warm and relaxed. He’s holding a big mug of hot chocolate — Max’s stupid, overcomplicated, cinnamon-laced recipe — and tapping out voice notes in their group chat to Lando, Charles, and Oscar.

“¡Feliz Navidad, idiotas!” Carlos grins into the phone. “Max says nothing, but he’s here and warm and brooding. That’s basically a holiday miracle.”

Max rolls his eyes but says nothing. His arms tighten around Carlos’s waist, one hand slipping under the hoodie to rest on warm skin.

Carlos keeps talking, laughing. He tastes like chocolate and marshmallow when Max presses a kiss behind his ear.

And in that moment, with the tree glowing, and Carlos real and solid and his, Max thinks —

Christmas isn’t bad. Not at all.

Not when it ends like this.

......

For more fics : https://riavolkov.stck.me/

Max Verstappen’s Accidental Guide to Wooing Carlos Sainz-Versainz

Wear his initials - Carlos x oscar

Second choice - Charlos

Cut!..Not yet-Oscar x Carlos

The Husband prank - Carlos poly

Summary:

When the Cupids decide that the paddock’s hottest single Carlos Sainz deserves a love story, their matchmaking spirals out of control complete with staged falls, accidental kisses and fanfics that come true. By the time the chaos settles, Carlos isn’t choosing between Max and Charles… he’s choosing both.

......

The Mercedes motorhome buzzed with suspiciously cheerful energy. Confetti littered the floor, a glittery banner hung across the room reading: “Cupids Council Meeting - Celebrating Our Legendary Successes.”

Kimi Antonelli stood at the front with a laser pointer and a PowerPoint slide titled “Previous Missions: Love Conquered, Chaos Achieved.”

“Gentlemen,” Kimi began proudly, “before we embark on our newest operation, let us applaud ourselves for spreading love across the grid.”

Ollie tapped the clicker. A photo of George and Alex flashed on screen, the two caught mid-laughter in the paddock. “Mission ‘Married Couple Energy’ success!” Gabriel cheered. Everyone clapped.

Next slide: Lando and Oscar, arms around each other, mid-celebration. “Operation McLaren Soulmates!” Franco announced. More clapping.

Isack pointed to the next picture, Lewis and Nico smiling beside each other at a charity gala. “Mission ‘Enemies to Lovers: The Redemption Arc.’ Honestly, I still can’t believe that worked.” Laughter erupted.

“And let’s not forget our most chaotic masterpiece…” Kimi clicked again, revealing Yuki and Isack holding hands in the AlphaTauri garage. “Ah yes,” Ollie said dramatically, “Operation Tiny Fury Finds Love.”

The group burst into applause. They stood, raising their juice boxes in a toast.

“To us,” Gabriel said, “the matchmakers, the meddlers, the fanfic writers…” “…and to the chaos we bring,” Franco finished proudly.

Then Kimi grinned, clicking to the next slide: a picture of Carlos Sainz, smiling in golden sunlight. “Now, gentlemen… for our next conquest.”

The room went still. Ollie whispered reverently, “The Spaniard.”

Kimi nodded solemnly. “Operation Saint Sunshine begins.”

And the Cupids clapped again because clearly, nothing could go wrong.

(Spoiler: everything would.)

…..

“Gentlemen,” Kimi Antonelli began solemnly, standing on a chair inside the Mercedes motorhome, a makeshift whiteboard behind him reading ‘Operation Saint Sunshine ☀️ ... Mission: Get Carlos a Boyfriend(s)’.

Toto Wolff walked by, froze at the door, sighed heavily, and muttered something about “needing a vacation” before letting the chaos continue. He could never say no to Kimi’s puppy eyes.

Around the table sat the rest of the Rookie Cupids™ ... Ollie Bearman, Isack Hadjar, Gabriel Bortoleto, and Franco Colapinto ... all armed with iPads, spreadsheets, and suspiciously glittery pens.

…..

Ollie slapped a photo of Carlos Sainz on the table ... a candid one from the paddock, sun hitting his hair, smile warm enough to start a fire.

“Behold,” Ollie said dramatically. “The most eligible man in Formula One. He’s single. He’s charming. He says ‘smooth operator’ and somehow makes it sound sexy.”

“Agreed,” Isack said, leaning forward like a detective. “And the fandom adores him. The angst potential is off the charts.”

Gabriel nodded sagely. “And he deserves love. We must act.”

“Question is,” Franco interrupted, “who do we match him with?”

Everyone went quiet. Then Kimi, with the confidence of a man about to start a war, pulled out two printed photos and slapped them on the table.

“Option one,” Kimi said, pointing to the first. “Max Verstappen ... Ex-teammate, grumpy Dutchman, known to look at Carlos like he wants to throttle him and kiss him at the same time.”

Ollie raised an eyebrow. “That’s literally enemies to lovers perfection.”

“Option two,” Isack said, sliding forward the second photo. “Charles Leclerc ... Ferrari prince, current teammate, heart-eyes emoji in human form. The man practically swoons every time Carlos laughs.”

Franco hummed. “So, we’ve got the grumpy/sunshine childhood exes arc versus soft domestic poet x disaster energy arc.”

“Exactly,” Kimi said, adjusting imaginary glasses. “We must choose wisely.”

…..

To make their decision “scientifically,” the Cupids gathered around Ollie’s laptop. He’d made a shared Google Doc titled: Carlos Sainz Love Analysis.xlsx

Kimi: “Let’s vote.” Isack: “I vote Max. Childhood friendship, tension, unresolved longing ... that’s prime slow burn material.” Kimi: “Agreed.”

Ollie: “Charles. He literally said ‘Carlos is like my sunshine’ on camera once. That’s poetry.” Gabriel: “Charles. The Tumblr girlies will eat it up.” Franco: “Also Charles. Because his Italian accent saying ‘Carlos’ sounds like a love confession.”

The room went silent. The vote was 2 for Max, 3 for Charles.

Kimi slammed his hands on the table. “Unacceptable. The council is divided!”

Franco rolled his eyes. “Then we just… do both?”

Four heads turned toward him.

And thus, the disaster was born.

…..

“Alright,” Isack said, typing furiously on his iPad. “We’ll run two fanfic series. One Versainz, one Charlos. Whichever gets more traction, we’ll push in real life.”

“What’s the plan?” Gabriel asked.

“Step one,” Ollie grinned, “write fanfics.”

….

Fanfic #1: ‘The Sunshine and the Storm’ (Versainz AU)

Summary: Carlos and Max are stranded in Monaco after a storm. There’s only one bed. You can guess the rest.

Posted anonymously on AO3 by ‘KimiLovesChaos’.

Within two hours, Max found it.

“Carlos,” Max said, walking into the paddock with his phone. “Why is there a fanfic about us sharing a bed?”

Carlos blinked. “A what?”

“A very descriptive one.”

Carlos turned red. “Madre mía.”

The rookies cheered from the motorhome as Kimi whispered, “Phase one complete.”

…..

Fanfic #2: ‘The Red Affair’ (Charlos AU)

Summary: Two Ferrari drivers. One scandal. Infinite longing.

Written by ‘OllieTheBearman’, this one included lines like:

“Charles looked at Carlos like the world began and ended in his smile.”

Carlos read it, blushed for thirty minutes, and refused to make eye contact with Charles all weekend. Charles, however, was beaming. “So they think we’d make a good couple, no?”

The Cupids high-fived.

…..

Plan: The Great Fall Setup

Location: Ferrari motorhome hallway Mission Codename: “Gravity’s on Our Side”

“Okay, Franco, you’ve got the water bottle?” Kimi whispered into his earpiece like a secret agent. “Affirmative.” “Ollie, position status?” “Ready near the corner. Carlos incoming.”

Carlos, blissfully unaware, was scrolling through his phone as he walked down the corridor. Right on cue, Franco “accidentally” spilled his water bottle, sending a slick trail across the floor.

“Go, go, go,” Kimi hissed.

At the same moment, Max turned the corner ... carrying two coffees.

Carlos’s foot slipped.

Time slowed.

He wobbled, eyes wide... Max dropped both coffees, lunged forward... And caught Carlos by the waist.

Carlos landed against his chest, palms flat against Max’s shirt. For a moment, they both froze ... too close, too warm, too startled.

Max muttered, low and rough, “You okay?”

Carlos nodded, cheeks pink. “Sí… I think so.” He was still half-held, Max’s hand splayed across his hip.

From behind the nearest wall, the rookies exploded into silent cheering.

Franco fist-pumped. “Operation Saint Fall successful!” Ollie whispered, “That hand lingered for three seconds. I timed it.”

….

When Carlos and Charles were laughing at something in Carlos’s phone, a passerby aka Kimi passed by, bumping Charles forward ... right into Carlos.

Their lips brushed ... a whisper of contact. Both froze, eyes wide.

“I... I didn’t...” Charles stammered, his ears glowing red. Carlos laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… accidents happen, no?”

Behind a stack of tires, Ollie whispered into his mic, “We got a lip touch! Repeat, a lip touch!” Gabriel squeaked. “Oh my god, this is better than Netflix!”

….

Location: Monaco restaurant Mission Codename: “Candlelight Catastrophe”

Carlos was supposed to have a quiet dinner alone,  the Cupids had other plans.

Isack had “accidentally” sent both Max and Charles the same message:

Hey, Carlos wants to discuss something over dinner. His treat!

Cue: Carlos arriving, only to find Max already seated. “Why are you here?” Carlos asked, smiling, though clearly confused. “dinner, no?” Max frowned. “You invited me.”

Before either could clarify, Charles appeared, bouquet in hand. “I didn’t know we were doing flowers, but...” he paused, spotting Max... “Oh. This is… new.”

Ten minutes later, the three of them were seated awkwardly at one table.

And just when things started to actually get a little soft ... laughter, teasing, easy warmth ... the lights dimmed.

“Did the power go out?” Carlos blinked. No. In the shadows, the Cupids were manually dimming the lights with a fuse box, Ollie holding a Bluetooth speaker.

Soft jazz music began to play.

Max sighed. “This feels… suspiciously staged.” Charles chuckled. “Oui, but… I don’t hate it.” Carlos hid a smile. “Maybe the universe ships us.”

Up in the control booth, Kimi grinned. “Universe = us. Mission success.”

…..

Location: Paddock, after a surprise rainstorm Mission Codename: “Wet and Wild”

The Cupids “forgot” to tell Carlos that rain was expected, as they were the ones pumping water from the hose around the paddock. He was walking back from media duties and the ‘rain’ poured down and, as if on cue, Max’s car pulled up beside him.

“Need a ride?” Max asked, smirking. “You planned this?” Carlos teased, sliding into the passenger seat, water dripping down his hair. Max looked at him ... at his soaked shirt, clinging skin, and soft laugh. “No. But I’m not complaining.”

From behind the nearby parked car, the rookies filmed discreetly, Isack whispering, “We got it, we got it, this is cinematic.”

When Max handed Carlos his hoodie, the collective sigh of the Cupids could be heard across the paddock.

…..

By Silverstone, both Max and Charles had started competing for Carlos’s attention ... unknowingly inspired by fanfics written by teenagers. Carlos found himself invited to dinner by Max one night and serenaded by Charles the next.

“Why are they both suddenly flirting with me?” he asked Lando.

Lando, trying not to laugh, replied, “They are both courting you, dude”

Carlos groaned. “Oh god”

…..

One night, Carlos stormed into the Mercedes motorhome, where the Cupids were busy plotting their next fic.

“Did you... write ‘Saint of Two Hearts’?!” he demanded.

The rookies froze. The fic in question? A polyship AU where Carlos ends up with both Max and Charles.

Kimi coughed. “Hypothetically.”

Carlos stared. “Do you know what happened after that fic dropped?”

Silence.

He slammed his phone down on the table ... showing photos of Max and Charles sitting on either side of him at dinner, both glaring at each other but offering him dessert.

“They’re trying to one-up each other like I’m a prize!”

Ollie grinned. “So… it’s working?”

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose.

….

By Monza, Carlos had a realization.

He liked Max ... the intensity, the quiet understanding, the shared history. He also liked Charles ... the warmth, the laughter, the ridiculous serenades.

And somehow, both made his heart beat faster in entirely different ways.

…..

It was the team’s post-race celebration. The Cupids had one last move.

Gabriel set up the seating chart “by accident” so that Carlos sat between Max and Charles.

Midway through dinner, Charles leaned in to whisper something, laughing softly. Max glanced over, smirking. Carlos turned his head at the same time ... and both Max and Charles kissed his cheeks. At the same time.

The table went silent.

Carlos blinked, laughing. “Okay, you two are impossible.” Charles smiled shyly. “We can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.” Carlos looked between them ... Max’s fond stare, Charles’s nervous smile ... and shook his head. “No, actually… I think I like it.”

From behind the plant decor, the Cupids lost their minds.

“POLY ENDGAME UNLOCKED!” Ollie screamed, almost falling over. Kimi high-fived Isack so hard it echoed. Franco declared, “Fanfic prophecy fulfilled!”

And as the three men at the table shared a quiet laugh, the rookies slipped away, triumphant.

Toto Wolff spotted them leaving and groaned. “Tell me you’re not matchmaking again.” Kimi grinned. “Not matchmaking. Just… manifesting.”

Gabriel gasped. “No way... our fic came true.”

…

Weeks later, a new fanfic dropped on AO3.

Title: The Saint and His Two Sinners Summary: Sometimes the heart doesn’t choose one person. Sometimes it chooses both.

Posted by ‘SaintlyMatchmakers’.

Carlos left a comment under it:

“10/10. Accurate. Would read again.”

And somewhere in the Mercedes motorhome, the Cupids screamed in victory, while Toto Wolff walked past muttering, “I’m calling PR.”

…. They wanted to make Carlos fall in love. They just didn’t expect him to fall for both. 💘 Endgame: Max x Carlos x Charles 💘

......

FOR MORE FICS OF MINE VISIT: https://riavolkov.stck.me/

Dear HR, It's a love story - Versainz

The Christmas Pitstop - Carlos poly

Fool my heart - Versainz

The Haunted flatshare - Carlos poly

In a cooking class meant for couples, Carlos and Max two accidental partners and even worse chefs discover that love can rise beautifully from the mess. What began with burnt lasagna and laughter soon turns into something sweeter than any recipe could promise.

....

Carlos should’ve known agreeing to this class was a bad idea.

He stood at the door of the small culinary studio, watching couples spill in, hand in hand, smiling like they’d walked into a romantic movie montage.

Aprons were tied in bows, fingers laced together, little whispered jokes floating in the warm, buttery air. The instructor wore an offensively cheerful smile and a chef’s hat that screamed I love love.

Carlos, however, stood alone.

His friend who was supposed to come with him...Lando, of course...had texted him two hours ago:

“Sorry mate, I can’t make it. You’ll survive though. You’re charming.”

Charming. Right.

Carlos adjusted the strap of his apron, already feeling out of place. He considered bolting. But before he could, a low voice broke through the noise.

“Are you here alone too?”

Carlos turned. The man in front of him was tall, broad-shouldered, with a mop of slightly messy hair and blue eyes that were both annoyed and a little lost. His apron hung crooked, like he didn’t care enough to fix it.

“Yeah,” Carlos admitted. “My friend bailed.”

The man nodded. “Same.”

The instructor clapped her hands. “Alright lovebirds! If you’re here solo, don’t worry. We’re pairing up. Cooking is better with a partner!”

Lovebirds. Carlos wanted to melt into the floor.

But then... “Looks like we’re partners,” the guy said, not quite smiling but something softer ghosted across his face.

“Yeah,” Carlos replied. “I’m Carlos.”

“Max.”

….

They started with lasagna. How hard could it be? Carlos thought. He soon found out the answer: very hard when Max is involved.

“Max… why are you pouring sugar into the sauce?”

Max paused, the bag in his hand. “I thought it was salt.”

“It literally says ‘sugar’ on the bag.”

“…oh.”

Carlos snorted, covering his mouth as Max groaned. They tried to fix it. They made it worse. Max burned the edges; Carlos dropped the pan; the sauce ended up on Max’s apron and somehow in his hair.

The instructor hovered nearby, her smile too polite. “Creative interpretation of lasagna,” she said carefully.

They sat at their little station afterward, poking at their culinary crime. Carlos burst out laughing first. It wasn’t graceful or polite ... it was loud, helpless laughter that filled the room.

Max stared at him for a second, then cracked a smile too, like he couldn’t help it.

“Well,” Carlos wheezed. “At least we didn’t burn the kitchen down.”

“Yet,” Max said dryly, and that earned another laugh.

….

By the third class, something had undeniably shifted.

They arrived early, both pretending it wasn’t on purpose, lingering just outside the warm, buttery-smelling kitchen, claiming to “stretch” or “check their knives.” Carlos slid into the seat next to Max with an ease that surprised even him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Max, in turn, set a small paper cup of coffee in front of Carlos with a sly smile. “I passed a café on the way,” he muttered, brushing his fingers across the rim. “Thought you might need a little fuel before we burn the kitchen down.”

Carlos smirked, taking a careful sip. The coffee was strong and bitter, just the way he liked it, but what made it perfect wasn’t the taste ... it was Max’s crooked grin, the way his eyes sparkled with some quiet mischief that made Carlos’s chest tighten without warning.

“Disaster couple, reporting for duty,” Carlos teased, bumping his shoulder lightly against Max’s.

Max tilted his head, pretending to glare. “I think that’s our official title now. Maybe we should get embroidered aprons.”

Carlos laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained, echoing across the studio. Max’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, lingering on the curve of Carlos’s jaw, the way his laughter seemed to fill the entire space. He found himself leaning slightly closer than necessary, drawn to that warmth, though he would never admit it out loud.

When the instructor assigned today’s dish ... pasta with a delicate tomato cream sauce ... the playful tension only escalated. Carlos chopped vegetables with careful precision, glancing at Max every few seconds, curious if he was paying attention. Max, predictably, had his own rhythm, reading the recipe like it was some sort of battlefield strategy, lips moving in silent muttering as though arguing with the instructions.

And then it happened. A rogue flick of Max’s wrist sent a small arc of sauce sailing directly onto Carlos’s apron.

Carlos gasped, frozen for just a fraction of a second. “You did not just do that.”

Max smirked, a slow, teasing curl of lips that made Carlos’s stomach flutter uncomfortably. “I did.”

“Oh, you’re dead,” Carlos hissed, eyes narrowing in mock indignation.

The next thirty seconds were chaos incarnate. Sauce splattered across aprons and countertops, a misplaced flick of water sent droplets flying over the tiled floor. Laughter erupted from both of them ... pure, unrestrained, impossible-to-stop laughter that bounced off the high ceilings. Other couples shot amused glances, some whispering quietly, but neither Carlos nor Max noticed. The world had narrowed to the two of them, the smell of garlic and tomato, the warmth of the oven, and the way Max’s sleeve brushed against Carlos’s as he reached for a spoon.

By the time they finally collapsed against the counter, breathless, the pasta lay in ruin.

The sauce had congealed in uneven clumps, noodles stuck together in a sad, limp tangle. The countertop looked as though a minor food apocalypse had occurred. Yet neither of them cared. Carlos leaned back, hand pressed to his stomach as laughter escaped him in short bursts, hair sticking to his forehead in damp, floury strands. Max, still grinning, offered a fork as though it were a peace offering.

“We should at least try it,” Max said softly, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge gone, replaced by something… tentative.

Carlos peeked at the forked mass of burnt pasta, grimaced, then shrugged. “It’s burnt.”

“So?” Max prompted, leaning closer, blue eyes catching the light in a way that made Carlos’s heart stutter.

Carlos took a tentative bite. The taste was terrible ... slightly bitter, overcooked, laced with tomato that had scorched on the pan. He scrunched his nose, ready to protest, but then he looked up at Max and froze.

The question hung silently between them. Max’s eyes were fixed on him, unwavering, a subtle warmth behind the mischief. And suddenly, the flavor didn’t matter. Not even a little.

“It’s terrible,” Carlos admitted, laughing breathlessly, though there was a strange flutter of something dangerous in his chest.

“Then why are you still eating?” Max asked, his tone low now, intimate, almost shy, like he was letting the guard down.

Carlos’s gaze locked on his. For half a second, the world narrowed until there was nothing but Max and the way the corners of his mouth quirked in that stubborn, infuriating grin.

“Because you made it,” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

And just like that, everything changed. The warmth in the room shifted ... it wasn’t just from the oven or the midday sunlight spilling across the kitchen.

It was something heavier, something electric.

Something that wrapped around their hearts and left them dizzy.

Their eyes lingered too long and Carlos felt a heat rise to his cheeks he couldn’t explain.

Max tilted his head slightly, a flicker of realization crossing his face, though he didn’t say a word.

He just let his gaze hold Carlos’s, soft and steady, and in that silence, the room felt brighter, warmer, and impossibly intimate.

The ruined pasta, the sauce-streaked aprons, the chaotic kitchen ... it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this moment, suspended in time, where laughter, mess, and unspoken feelings hung thickly in the air, palpable enough to taste.

Carlos leaned back against the counter, heart hammering, a laugh trembling in his chest.

Max’s hand hovered near his own, almost brushing, almost touching, and it was too close, too warm, too everything. He swallowed, trying to focus, but it was hopeless. He wanted to reach for that hand. He wanted to taste the sauce again ... this time, from Max himself.

And maybe, he thought with a small, dangerous thrill, Max felt the same way.

….

Setting: Decorating cupcakes for the first time.

Carlos smudges frosting on Max’s nose.

Carlos: “You’re looking a little… frosted.” Max: “And you’re dangerously sweet. I might have to taste you.” Carlos (mock gasp): “I think we’re starting to batter up some feelings here.” Max (laughs & leans closer): “Careful, I might whisk you away.”

…,,

On the final day, the instructor announced, “Couples cook-off!”

Carlos and Max exchanged a look. “We’re doomed,” Max said.

They were. But they also laughed harder than anyone else in the room.

When Carlos forgot the salt and Max set the timer wrong, they didn’t argue ... they high-fived like idiots. When Max accidentally flung sauce on the wall, Carlos nearly fell over laughing.

When they finally presented their dish, the instructor took one bite, blinked, and said: “You two might be the messiest pair I’ve ever seen… but you’re also the happiest.”

Carlos flushed, ducking his head. Max stared at him like he’d just realized something important.

That sound. That smile. That warmth that sat quietly under Carlos’s skin. He didn’t want it to end.

….

The class emptied out slowly. E

veryone had someone to hold hands with, to walk home with. Everyone except them.

Carlos lingered by the doorway, tying his apron back onto the hook. He tried not to think about how quiet tomorrow would feel without this. Without him.

“Carlos.”

He turned. Max stood there, holding something behind his back.

“We forgot dessert,” Max said.

Carlos tilted his head. Max pulled out a small cupcake ... messy frosting, lopsided, clearly from the bakery next door. But he held it like it mattered.

“What’s this?”

Max took a slow breath. “A peace offering. And maybe… a question.”

“A question?”

“Would you like to go out with me,” Max said, quieter now, “somewhere we don’t have to set off a fire alarm?”

Carlos’s heart stuttered. He took the cupcake carefully, like it was delicate. Then he grinned and smeared a bit of frosting on Max’s cheek.

“Only if you promise to let me teach you how to boil water properly.”

Max laughed ... really laughed ... and nodded. “Deal.”

They walked out together, sharing the cupcake under the glow of the streetlights, shoulders brushing with every step. It wasn’t grand or dramatic.

It was soft. Warm. The kind of beginning that sneaks up on you when you’re too busy laughing to notice it happen.

....

FOR MORE FICS OF MINE VISIT: https://riavolkov.stck.me/

Dear HR, It's a love story - Versainz

The Christmas Pitstop - Carlos poly

The Haunted flatshare - Carlos poly