Your wingfics live rent free in my head. I can't stop thinking about it. They were so good omg. It's such a beautiful universe, so amazing ♥️ Do you plan to write more about it? 🥹♥️ I hope so but if the answer is no, I will read them again and again because I love them ♥️😍
adsfndjd anon you are the sweetest!!! I'm so happy you enjoyed them and were so kind to tell me, I really appreciate it!
Sadly, I can't promise anything for the future tbh. I have been really struggling with getting back into writing after a really long drought, and I'm giving my brain the chance to just put down whatever it fancies, instead of forcing myself to write something specific just for the sake of it. I am always open to be prodded by an ask like this or a prompt though so always feel free to drop by! A lot of the things I write don't actually live in a wider universe, they just spawn out of nowhere, get thrown down on paper, and disappear in the void, but usually I can still create more around it if someone asks. Another reason why I really appreciate you saying this, because for once my wingfic does have a wider universe around it, and I am always glad to put one more snippet into it.
This is little baby Max in his first year in the rbr seat (part 1 and part 2)
cw: mentions of Jos not being a great father related to unsafe and painful wing care practices, description of said practices, littlest blood mention
Max doesn't like his wings.
He doesn't dislikes them either, but if he could get rid of them, he would. First of all, he can't actually use them to fly, his bones aren't hollow and his back muscles aren't powerful enough anyway, so having wings that don't actually work seems like a taunt from the universe. They're also very inconvenient when driving. Papa has taught him how to keep them clipped to lower their weight, and how to keep them tightly bound in an harness to have them take up less space in a kart, but neither of those things is exactly pleasant. Sometimes, when he drives for too long, his whole back spasms because of his wings being constricted, and sometimes when he clips too much, his wings bleed and molting becomes painful.
It's worth it, of course, to be able to race faster and better, but a part of him does wish he just had Papa's fish scales, or even Mama's diaphanous dragonfly wings.
Cleaning his wings is also annoying, because it's hard sometimes to reach all the spots, and after long days on the track it feels like there will be itchy dust and grit clinging onto them forever.
He's not one to get stuck on made-up scenarios, but it doesn't mean he has to like them.
--
Daniel is not the first bird-winged racer he meets, of course, but he is his first teammate. He has a completely different relationship with his wings than Max, always keeping them shiny and clean, no clipping or binding. He seems to love them and to love taking care of them, parading them around and showing them off.
Max doesn't understand. Not that it matters, he doesn't need to understand Daniel to be able to beat him, but. It's not that he's jealous, he's not, but sometimes he feels the heaviness of his wings on his back, skin irritated by the dirt stuck to it, looking patchy where he's taking longer to molt, and he wishes. He wants.
Most of the time though, he knows it's just a waste of time, to care about how they look so much, when it doesn't even matter, when it doesn't affect his driving.
And then one day, Daniel doesn't knock.
Max is carefully peeling his race suit off his shoulders, hissing slightly when it goes over his bound wings, when the door slams open.
"Maxy, hey, have you seen..." Daniel doesn't finish his sentence, eyebrows knotting together, eyes zeroed on Max's back.
Max feels his skin prickling under his gaze and he's almost tempted to do his suit up again, but his wings are aching, and he wants to take a shower, so he just turns around to face Daniel, frowning just as hard.
"What do you want?" he snaps, hating the way he feels his cheeks heat up. He doesn't know why he's reacting like this, he's done nothing wrong, but the way Daniel is looking at him, a mix of unbelieving and horrified, makes him feel ashamed.
"Do you always do that?" Daniel asks instead of answering his question, taking a step forward. Max instinctively takes a step back, bumping into the massage table behind him, hating himself for not standing his ground. It's his driver room, Daniel has no right to judge him in here.
"Do what, Daniel?"
He goes to cross his arms, but the movement tugs on his still trapped wings, making him wince. He wants Daniel to leave, so he can finally finish undressing, but Daniel steps even closer instead.
"Do you always keep your wings like that? Max, that's dangerous!"
Max decides to ignore the worry in Daniel's voice, feeling himself bristle.
"I am of course able to drive safely!"
"Drive?" Daniel gives a short laugh, so different from his usual one Max feels himself shiver. He wishes he had more space to put between them. "I am not talking about driving, I am talking about your wings!"
Max opens his mouth, ready to tell him to leave him alone, when his back spasms, a hot flash of pain traveling from his neck down his spine, wings straining against the constrains, and what comes out is a strangled gasp instead.
A second later, Daniel's hands are on his shoulders, forcing him to turn around with a swear.
"Did you put this on this morning? Let me help you take it off."
Daniel doesn't give him a chance of answering, fingers already working on the buckles on Max's side, as Max scrambles to push him away.
"No, no, you cannot, you have to..." he breathes in sharply as the harness start to loosen, wings cramping as they try to flutter, eyes snapping close.
"Max, you need to..."
"Slow," Max interrupts him, clutching at the straps to keep them from slipping open all at the same time. "You have to, one at a time."
He doesn't open his eyes again as he undoes them carefully, feeling Daniel hover just in front of him, keeping his wings tightly pressed against his back until he can slip the straps over his shoulders and down his waist.
"Max..." Daniel doesn't try to touch him again, but Max can hear the stress in the way his vocal cords curl around his name, mixing it with an involuntary warble.
Max ignores him. This is always the worst part, but he is practiced enough to make it go quickly.
He takes a breath, wrapping his right arm around his waist until he is able to grasp his left wing's tip, and then holds it as he works it open, fingers sliding along the length of it, straightening feathers as they come. Pain shoots through it, his back burning, his shoulders tensing, but when it's fully open, he works to close it again, and then it's done, just a dull ache left behind.
He lets himself take two deep breaths before repeating the whole thing with the other.
When both wings are resting along his back again, he shifts his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tension there, and then finally opens his eyes.
Daniel is looking at him, eyes wide and horrified, mouth slightly open. His hands are shaking. Max doesn't know what to say.
"It is of course fine, see?" is what he settles for, fluttering his wings to prove it. It's slightly painful, especially his left one where he clipped a bit too much and is bleeding a little, but Daniel doesn't need to know that.
"Fine?" Daniel chokes out, eyes widening impossibly more. "You're hurting yourself! That's not safe, Max!"
Max scoffs, letting the harness fall on the massage bed and pulling his undershirt off, carefully easing his wings through the slits in the back.
"I'm fine, Daniel."
For a second, it looks like Daniel is going to scream at him, eyes narrowing and fists closing, and Max wonders if it would be inappropriate for him to flee the room half naked, but then all the fight seems to leave Daniel's body. He sags a little, raising a hand to drag it across his face and sighing, shaking his head to himself.
"Listen, I don't know why you've decided this is the right thing to do to yourself, but you're going to take a shower, and when you're done we'll go back to the hotel, and I'll preen your wings."
Max opens his mouth, ready to argue with him, he has data to go over before tomorrow's qualifying, but Daniel doesn't give him a chance to, turning around and leaving the room as quickly as he had come in.
36 notes
·
View notes