#f1 realms au

[sunreisets]

What’s your name — Alex Albon x Lily Muni He

Author’s notes: Hey hey hey! so recently i’ve started an f1 au about 10 realms! This isn’t related to any of the lore I am planning but thought it would be really really cute to include this into the lore because I LOVE ALEX AND LILY’s RS SM THEYRE SO CUTE!!

anyways, I’ll attach a bit of some background information before you read this. I hope you enjoy it! first time exploring into this so hehe

also there is a feature of Carmen in here (for those who don’t know, it’s George Russel’s gf) and lily and her look really really close so I made them best friends in this one shot! i’m going to post more not lore related fics and one shots like these to test the waters <3 because I also haven’t finished planning yet AHAHAHA anyways enjoy!

Lily was a common girl in Frank, Williams Realm. Every morning, going to the nearby Merchant Street was a routine for her. She wasn’t going there only because she had to pick up groceries for her mother, she was also enchanted by the goods there.

Charms, fortune-telling shops and good food… what drew her in the most were stalls selling ornaments from other realms. Most merchants sold objects picked up from Mercedes Reich since there was a direct portal to the realm (which Lily wasn’t allowed to go to despite the countless times she had to beg her parents), but occasionally she would find stores that sold stuff from other realms. She would buy one or two objects and hide it away from her mother, as a collectible to show off to all her friends.

“Lily!” A familiar voice resounded from behind her. Turning around, her face lit up.

“Hello Carmen!” Lily said as she hugged Carmen tightly. “How was your trip to the Reich?” “It was great, really… I met this boy, really cute!” Carmen exclaimed, looking up in the sky dreamily, pink speckling her cheeks. “Anyways, I returned yesterday and passed by this street, saw that there was this young merchant. He was selling objects its origin I couldn’t even figure out!”

Lily’s eyes sparkled. New merchants selling otherworldly objects? “I’ll go check out that stall. See you around!” “Yep, he’s right over there, blonde hair, tan skin, asian…” Carmen pointed to her left.

Looking around, Lily spotted a blonde haired boy, laying his head on the table and fidgeting with a trinket.

Approaching the stall, Lily picked up one of the ornaments and her eyes widened. It was an elephant, carefully crafted with gold and decorated with precious gemstones. “Woah..”

“Hello, how may I help?” The boy turned his head to look at her, smiling awkwardly.

It was then Lily was able to study his features. Tan skin, beautiful hazel eyes. His hair was actually dyed, she realised as she noticed his dark hair roots beneath his blonde strands. He was handsome.

“Uh hello-?” He waved. She blinked, and her face turned a light shade of pink, realising that she had been staring.

“How much for- one?” She awkwardly stammered. “also… if it’s appropriate to ask, where is this from?”

The boy chuckled a bit. “It’s 6 pounds, and to answer your question, that is a trade secret, but I can tell you that it is from a place many here would not want to go.”

“Mysterious, I see…” she smirked a little, “anyways, I don’t really want to get caught by my mother because I sidetracked while getting her groceries…”

“oh i’m so sorry! here.” He sheepishly passed the ornament to her. She started finding coins to pay him, but he gently grabbed her wrist.

“Take it for free.”

Lily blushed a bit. “No, I- I’ll pay.” He shook his head, placing the ornament in her palm, as she clasped her hand around the cold metal of the elephant figure. “Use the money to buy more groceries instead.” He said firmly. Lily’s face got hotter as she bowed, thanking the boy, before running off to get the rest of the things on her shopping list.

“Wait!”

She turned around, looking at the boy.

“What’s your name?” he had asked.

“Lily, what about you, mysterious merchant?”

“My name’s Alex, Alex Albon”

[formulawolff]

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚ about me ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

hello! my name is k! •ᴗ•

you can learn more about me here!

💌 a few things about my blog 💌

my inbox is open & i am currently accepting requests! these can be for any driver for any formula one team. i am still pretty new to the f1 realm, so i am not quite familiar with the f2 & f3 drivers quite yet!

the requests can be smut, fluff, oneshots, blurbs, ficlets, or just anything you want. the only thing i typically refrain from writing are social media aus. if you have any questions on what else i refrain from writing, please just ask! i typically answer my inbox/asks within the same day or a day later.

i would love to have some f1 mutuals! <3 my favorite teams are aston martin, ferrari, & mercedes (i actually love all of them for the most part but those are my top three)

the drivers i typically gravitate writing for are: fernando alonso, carlos sainz, sergio perez, pierre gasly, & daniel ricciardo. i also write for toto wolff. he was the main inspiration in starting my f1 blog!

if you have any questions, or want to know about me, don't hesitate to reach out! my masterlist will be linked below! <3

⁺₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ masterlist ⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

🏎️ the garage 🏎️

[another-lost-mc]

LEVIATHAN masterlist

➤ fics

someone leviathan loves [ gn!reader | nsfw ] cw: making out, dry humping, demon form!levi

player two [ gn!reader | nsfw ] cw: yandere-ish levi, suggestive content

vibration sensations [ gn!reader | nsfw ] cw: invasion of privacy, sex toys, tailfucking, light dom/sub dynamics

take pity on me [ gn!reader | nsfw ] cw: vampire!au, suggestive content

➤ poly / multi-pairing fics

second chances [ afab!reader | nsfw ] mammon x reader, leviathan x reader (separately) cw: threesome, resolved sexual tension

one for all [ gn!reader | nsfw ] the demon brothers x reader cw: vampire!au (demon brothers are vampires)

fun and games [ gn!reader | nsfw ] mammon x reader, leviathan x reader (separately) cw: implied threesome, levi's demon form/tail, jealousy

➤ drabbles / thirsts

kissing in the water [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

kissing in the rain [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

levi likes to watch [ gn!reader | nsfw ] cw: cuckholding, voyeurism

when mc compliments him a lot

levi with an otaku!mc cw: jealousy

wearing skimpy clothes around him pt. 1 [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

wearing skimpy clothes around him pt. 2 [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

pervy levi thoughts [ gn!reader | nsfw ] cw: invasion of privacy, morally dubious behaviour

leviathan the treasure-hoarder

late-night cravings [ nsfw ] cw: sexting, masturbation

older step-brother!levi [ nsfw ] ↳ part 1 | part 2 cw: step!cest

tucking snake!levi into your clothes [ nsfw ]

nicknames [ nsfw ]

➤ headcanons

when it's mc's turn to cook

when mc needs a little TLC [ nsfw ]

high-achiever mc struggles at RAD

mc is reborn in the celestial realm

when they go down on you [ afab!reader | nsfw ]

when mc steals their clothes [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

living with a rich mc

your first kiss [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

the demon brothers go into heat [ afab!reader | nsfw ]

mc misses their sibling

when mc is quiet in bed [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

f*ck lucifer! (jokingly)

oral distractions [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

mc sends them audio porn [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

mc that feels burnt out/numb

where they bite mc (as vampires) [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

why they don't want to be vampires

would they use a love potion on mc? [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

being with a shy mc [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

mc drives them on a road trip

going to the movies

when movies make them cry

what they wear to see Barbie

lactation kink headcanons [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

when mc is scared of snakes

chubby demon headcanons

size kink headcanons [ gn!reader | nsfw ]

watching over your human family

how the little d's act when you date the avatars of sin

when they hurt you by accident

when they find out you have a fwb [ nsfw ]

when they find out solomon is your fwb [ nsfw ]

watching the movie se7en [ nsfw ]

shadow-walking with mc

summoning their shadow forms

how they mark mc [ nsfw ]

when mc is a professional f1 driver

when they turn into their symbolic animals

when mc has a reversible plushie

when it's mc's birthday

sharing the same birthday with mc

➤ return to the obey me! masterlist

[hollow-lime-green]

hi!! just wondering if you have any stsg fic recs you’d be willing to share? i’m currently gobbling up 2sorcs like a gremlin and looking for something else to read between updates but i only really trust your opinions and characterizations which 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 anyways love ur work and hope you’re doing well!!

Ah! First of all, thank you <3 I do have some fics I really like! I shall rec them and give a little anxiety disclaimer at the end.

Fic Recs - Shorties

it would make a whole - by @diggingupgrave 8.8k, T, First Year, Pre-Relationship, Emotional H/C oh i love this fic so very much. this may have been one of the fics that really got me thinking about their characterization in the first place, tbh.

As You Wish - by @haha-funny-valentine 2.5k, T, Post-Star Plasma Arc, Emotional H/C wonderful characterization here and I am just such a sucker for H/C.

The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom - by @zombieheroine 16.3k, T, Prison Realm Gojo Character Study I took my skin off to check and I am shocked that this fic is not like, Doing Numbers. this fic is SO fucking creative and unique and I just. love. it. Definitely a big inspiration for FIYM. It's like Harrow the Ninth but for Gojo in the Prison Realm and like, oh my god so well done imo.

Longfic Recs with Caveats

and if you take my hand (series) - by @detta-pica 40k (Ongoing), T, Witch AU, Slow Burn Caveat: this is a WIP, and we're in the early part so very much Unresolved Romantic Tension. But I really like the worldbuilding in this and I'm excited to follow it as it keeps going, so big rec here if you like Plot and are down to follow some more ongoing fics. :)

coanda effect - by @bunniehoneys 250k, M, F1 AU, Slow Burn, Eating Disorders, Drugs, Bad Choices I am probably the last person in the world to read this fic so it feels silly to rec, but I'm doing it anyway because I'm a little obsessed. Caveat 1: also technically a WIP for another week or two

Caveat 2: TAGS check the tags. If you are at all sensitive to discussion of EDs, skip this fic, but I think it's done well and adds a lot to the characterization

Caveat 3: I am not caught up on this fic. it's one that I didn't let myself read for a while (see below) but F1 has a special place in my heart (my dad is into it, I used to live in a Gran Prix city, and I have watched WAY too much F1 Lets Play content).

I've been working really shitty hours for the past 48 hours (almost done) due to research that requires specific spans of real earth time. Because I don't have the focus to write right now, I've had the chance to read a little, and I've read about 75% of this gargantuan fic in windowless rooms on my phone, which has to say something about how much I love it lmao.

Disclaimer: I am a bad source of stsg fics because I actually don't read very many. If I read amazing fic then it tends to trigger the "you will never be as good as the old masters" part of the brain, although instead of real art like in the meme, my fic is putting gojo in a minecraft hoodie and making him do the gangnam style dance. Still.

I also get very unhealthy about metrics/numbers, which I mostly manage by using AO3 skins to block stats, but I still have some moments of weakness. So I try to avoid looking at stuff that I know might make me anxious/insecure about my own works and be unable to finish them (this has unfortunately happened to me before in the FE3H fandom, and that continues to weigh on me).

All that to say, there are some really big, nice, and well-loved fics by wonderful authors currently being updated, and I have read almost none of them. So this is absolutely not me saying I don't like their characterizations, I'm just kind of a hermit.

[7thchevronlocked]

Fic Author Self Rec

Thank you so much @alexagirlie for the tag!!

When you get this, reply with your favourite 5 fics you've written, then pass it on to at least 5 other writers.

I'm not sure if I even have five fandom fics posted 😂 So we'll see how this goes! In no particular order..

1 All of our Book's Pages Dog Eared (Equestrian!Jace x Farrier!Cregan, House of the Dragon)

Inspired by a friend's incredible fic that got me into Jacegan as a ship, a british take on hotd horsefic. My longest multi-chapter for a fandom, I'm so proud of it. Farrier!Cregan takes a temp job at the Red Keep working for world famous dressage rider Rhaenyra Targaryen. Gets more than he bargained for in the form of her eldest son...

2 Shield that Guards the Realms of Men (Gen - for now. Harwin Lives, House of the Dragon)

This was wholly inspired by the hotd season 2 trailer seeing jace and cregan at the wall, and ended up making me expand a little personal drabble about Harwin being sent to the wall rather than dying at Harrenhal. When Jace visits the wall with Lord Cregan Stark to gain favour for his mother's war, there's a familiar face waiting for him in the Lord Commander. (Planning a Chapter 2 with some Jacegan but i've not managed to get around to it yet)

3 The Princess, The Queen and the Prince Consort (Canon Divergent!Harwin x Rhaenyra, House of the Dragon, Episode rewrite)

A rewrite of that scene in 1x06, where Harwin gets to punch Crispy. Rewritten based off of a roleplay over on @scripturient-roleplay. What if Harwin and Rhaenyra had been able to marry, and he survived into the dance?

4 To The Sea We Shall Return (Canon Divergent!Harwin x Rhaenyra, House of the Dragon, Episode rewrite)

Another episode rewrite, this time 1x07, the funeral on driftmark and Aemond losing an eye. We see things go down from Harwin's POV. I had a lot of fun with this one! Again, based off of a roleplay over on @scripturient-roleplay. Rhaewin living their best lives.

I don't have anything else published, but honourable mention to the Rhaewin F1!AU that I posted here just for fun that's since become over 100 pages of google docs rambling.

As for people to tag... Idk if I know 5 writers here 😂

@cordeliacordate @archaiccotton @heliophytes @rentekren

Apologies if I've double tagged anyone! I could only think of four but I only tagged four fics 😂 ofc participation is totally optional, and if you see this and wanna do it but I've not tagged you, go for it! Just tag me, I wanna see everyone's stuff!

[f1-disaster-bi]

Does the dragon au take place in real life like modern times?

This was a big debate between @f1-birb and I.

I thought it would be hilarious to have it set in modern times because imagine you go to race and Lando is just carrying an egg in a baby sling around the track, and Charles's dragon is rolling around in the dirt in a field near a track, and maybe, just maybe, Esteban's dragon sneezed while flying over the paddock and set McLaren (and alpine) on fire.

However it didn't really make sense to have it as a modern au because the dragons would be too big to have around so it is set in kind of a fantasty realm instead where dragons have more space and while they are noble creatures, they're more common and Lando and them would have spaces for them to roam and sleep and stuff

[okkotsuyuutaloml]

a/n: i'm cleaning my computer and found a bunch of short stories which i had written for my english class (but ended up not submitting it bcs i chickened out and instead wrote an argumentative essay)

pairing: mark webber and sebastian vettel (platonic)

cw: murder, gore, horror, au

wc:

main mlist ! | f1 mlist !

thank you @taestwinkle for proofreading this for me!

in the shadowed heart of the decaying city of dunwich, where whispers of despair lingered in the alleys, two souls teetered on the brink of madness: mark webber, a forsaken artist and sebastian vettel, a macabre surgeon.

mark's studio was a morbid sanctuary, adorned with grotesque canvases that defied the boundaries of human suffering. his latest masterpiece, "the eviscerated symphony," had drawn the attention of the macabre elite, including sebastian.

sebastian, a surgeon by day and a collector of the macabre by night, had an insatiable appetite for the obscure. he frequented the darkest corners of the city in search of subjects for his experiments, always lurking in the shadows.

one fateful evening, seb's twisted path led him to mark's studio. the pungent scent of wet paint and decay hung heavy in the air as he entered. a symphony of anguish unfolded before him on the canvases, each stroke and brushstroke an ode to despair.

mark turned, his eyes like fractured mirrors, reflecting a thousand sorrows. "you," he said, his voice a haunting melody. "you are not here for my art. you are here for something darker."

sebastian nodded, a twisted grin dancing on his lips. "i seek inspiration, dear artist, and i hear your work is nothing short of transcendent."

a sinister alliance formed between them that night. sebastian provided mark with the most macabre subjects for his art, dissected and splayed open for his creative endeavors. in return, mark invited sebastian to witness his artistry firsthand, to see the unholy marriage of life and death on his canvases.

their twisted collaboration soon grew into an obsession. mark's art became more grotesque with each passing day, his brush strokes capturing the essence of suffering in a way that no other artist could fathom. sebastian, on the other hand, pushed the boundaries of medical science, experimenting on living subjects in the name of his insatiable curiosity.

one chilling night, as rain poured in torrents, the duo embarked on their most audacious endeavor yet. they ventured to the city's catacombs, a labyrinth underworld where the forgotten dead whispered their secrets. mark's canvas was set amidst the bones, lit by flickering candles, as sebastian worked meticulously to extract the essence of agony from a still-breathing victim.

as the night wore on, a maddening fusion of art and science unfolded. mark's brush moved with a feverish intensity, capturing the tortured soul of the victim on canvas. sebastian's surgical instruments danced like malevolent wraiths, unraveling the mysteries of life and death.

but then, in the catacombs' eerie silence, something unexpected happened. the victim's pain transcended the physical, and his suffering began to infect the very air around them. mark's brush shook as he felt the tendrils of agony wrap around his heart and sebastian's once-celestial curiosity curdled into a grotesque obsession.

as the ritual reached its height, the boundary between life and death blurred. the victim's anguished cries merged with mark's screams of artistic ecstasy and sebastian's maniacal laughter. in that unholy moment, they glimpsed something beyond their comprehension—a realm where suffering and creation merged, a dimension of pure horror.

the catacombs trembled, and a cataclysmic force tore through the studio above. the city of dunwich was forever scarred by the malevolent energy they had unleashed. the cataclysmic artistry they had wrought that night was their final masterpiece—a grotesque testament to the depths of human depravity.

in the end, mark and seb were never seen again, their souls claimed by the dark forces they had summoned. their studio became a forbidden legend, a place where the line between art and abomination had been irrevocably blurred.

and so, in the heart of the decaying city of dunwich, the legacy of mark and sebastian lived on—a nightmarish tale whispered in the alleys, a reminder of the darkness that dwells within the human soul.

a/n: definitely didn't have merriam webster open 😋

[logan-lieutenant]

i feel so high school (au) pt. 3.B: galex

this was literally supposed to be the most random silly hc and i got waaaay too into it? anyway here’s the rest of one of my f1 rpf high school aus, in which george knows how to ball and alex knows aristotle:

and george is like “that’s all mate? why’d you have to get so upset you left me hanging?” and because i’m a sucker for angst let’s give a really dramatic and painful reason for why alex can’t swim, maybe he never learned and was bullied, maybe he had a scary experience when he was younger with either himself or someone else. he doesn’t tell george whatever it was but george gets the hint that he’s not being given the full story.

and george is pretty privileged, he’s a rich kid, he’s lived in a bubble. he’s not used to someone actively avoiding him. so he gets both confused and frustrated and mad at himself for scaring alex away. he’s probably telling himself he just doesn’t tolerate disrespect, he is ABSOLUTELY denying any chance that he really enjoyed talking to alex in a way he never had with any other friends or that he felt a connection he didn’t really understand or that alex’s smile and his laugh are playing over in his head or that he cares way too much about what alex thinks of him. george is absolutely not going through any of that. anyway he starts sort of awkwardly pursuing alex, trying to just make small talk in the halls and alex is afraid of his own feelings so he’s not offering much in return and THEN

(why am i so invested in this)

the school year’s closing out and for the biology class the final project has to do with data collection and a report on a whale-watching trip. and george’s first thought is shit, is alex going to be okay, because he gets carsick and he’s scared of water so how’s he going to fare on a boat? and the answer is not well. the trip is mandatory for the final so alex can’t afford to sit out as much as he’d like to so here we delve into the realm of forced-proximity and like a caretaking hurt/comfort vibe. george seeks out alex at the beginning of the trip and for once alex doesn’t pull away, just let himself sort of sit a little too close to george on the way there and huddle behind his shoulder even when they’re not talking and grab his hand when the boat hits a sudden swell. george puts his arm around alex when he gets sick over the side of the boat and basically carries him below the deck and brings him water. and then when they finally get to see some dolphins or whales or whatever and everyone’s taking notes/videos/doing the science-y part george convinces alex to just stay below decks and fall asleep and he goes out with the rest of the class and does double the work so he can give his observation notes to alex to do the final.

and finally the trip is over and the boat docks, bonus points if george is the one who wakes alex up and holds him steady when they go onto solid land, and it’s darker along the pier and everybody’s getting into their carpools and alex just sort of says quietly, “i owe you one.” and george is about to say “don’t mention it” but instead what comes out is “you could come to the match this friday and we’ll call it even”.

and alex just smiles gently and says “maybe” and george’s heart sinks thinking that’s got to be a no but that friday comes around and there’s a water polo match (i’m making this one boys against girls cause my high school’s girls water polo team carried the entire school on their shoulders) and the boys get absolutely obliterated and as george is getting out of the water and teased to death he actually sees alex in the crowd!! and he beckons down for alex to come find him and they start talking immediately and george is laughing at himself and alex is like “i think you did really good :)” and george is like “:D really” and this is the start of alex not realizing he’s become george’s WAG and george doesn’t realize it either but it gets increasingly obvious as the school year finishes out and they both get way more devastated than they thought they would at having to spend the summer apart

and it looks like it might be right person, wrong time or the one that got away because things were going so well between them and it all just seemed to drop away come last day of term until george is at like the town center/community pool (yeah i know he would normally be at like a private club but george points out that that one’s way smaller and he needs as much practice space as he can get so he’ll take the down-to-earth overchlorinated approach thank you) and he’s leaning against the wall taking a breather with his eyes closed and a shadow falls across him and he hears a familiar voice,

“can you teach me how to swim?”

(this did turn into aristotle and dante but fucking hell this is what happens anyway)

happily summer after <3

[sunreisets]

BREAKING: IS LEWIS HAMILTON, HIGH RANKING ELITE IN MERCEDES REICH, THE UNKNOWN MYSTERIOUS SHAMAN H44?

hey hey! Was supposed to draw Mikhail from the Fatui Harbingers but here’s a lewis hamilton concept art for my formula 1: 10 realms authors universe <3

Basic info is that in these realms, many Children of Destiny, or Destiny’s Children (basically all the current and past drivers) have powers of the four elements (some have extra powers due to chemical contamination like Lewis here) Lewis is a high rank elite in the Mercedes dimension (a futuristic realm with high tech stuff also known as the Reich) but undercover he is also a shaman under the name H44 :) and he’s also a Destiny’s Child so yeah Idk if I made things clear anyways his powers are to manipulate crystals and minerals and his secondary power is to purify dark matter! <333

same desc as instagram AHAHAH

[edenvinity]

f1 hanahaki au snippet (carlos-centric)

OKAY so a bit ago i posted about a vague hanahaki au where its like carlos has hanahaki for ferrari but never really did anything with it BUT im back with a fully written snippet i did instead of sleeping !!! thank you for being my muse carlos LOL

im obsessed with the concept of hanahaki for intangible dreams SO ive released my brainrot onto you guys <3

(disclaimer: I DONT HATE FERRARI BTW they were just convenient villains 🫶)

——

hanahaki, though not commonly found in modern society, is heavily prevalent in the realm of professional sports.

youll find hundreds of failed athletes with crushed dreams who will tell you of the unspoken pills supplied to every minor league; the home remedies passed down team by team, the ones that slow the growth but can never stop the spread of roots and stems through your lungs.

there are some professional athletes who will keep bouquets of their flowers in their households as a testament to how theyve made it; others are unable to even look at the petals without tasting iron in the back of their throats.

this is no different in formula one; the ever changing nature of the sport along with the limited spots always leave some drivers in the dust, teeth stained red as they feel the weight of their dreams slowly eat away at them until they either pull themselves away or fall out of love with the sport completely.

carlos never thought that hed be one of them.

as the son of carlos sainz sr, rally champion, racing ran in his blood. from the moment he was old enough to get in a kart he was obsessed, and knew that he would be chasing this high for the rest of his life.

and so he did. carlos climbed and clawed his way through the different levels, hunting down positions and points in pursuit of more time on the track, more time among the barriers and burning rubber. until his name was no longer his fathers, but a force in its own right.

and when he signs the dotted line that will bind him to ferrari, he feels his chest swell with the knowledge that he will be driving for the team that everyone dreams of.

——

it starts as a tickle in the back of his throat. a little discomfort that pops up when the team seems to ignore him at meetings, glossing over his suggestions for strategy and instead focusing on the aspects of his drive that could be improved. pops up when he hears the comments from the italian media, comparisons to charles.

and. well.

he knew charles was always going to be the first driver. that the tifosi would always have high expectations for him as the teammate to their il predestinato. so he buys cough drops and clears his throat and ignores how the rosso corsa doesnt quite settle comfortably over his shoulders.

——

it becomes harder to ignore through the 2023 season.

this year, he knows that the power dynamics are shifting. this year, carlos feels like he can fight charles and win. and he knows the team can sense it too. he can tell from the whispers that follow him after every race, building in volume as the season goes on and he places the car higher and higher in the standings and charles continues to suffer from a streak of bad luck.

but despite the tightness in his chest and the cough that lingers long enough to make rupert frown, carlos pushes forward. pushes the car to the limits until that one glorious day in singapore; where he stood on that podium and sweet taste of champange the only thing that lingered on his tongue.

he believed, for a single moment, that this would be it. the only non-redbull victory of 2023 would be enough to satisfy the tifosi, that he would finally see his love and devotion to the team returned to him. he enters the offseason dreaming of the prancing horse, of being almost able to grasp it in his hands once again.

——

carlos finds himself hunched over the sink in the bathroom, petals crawling up his throat after fred calls.

it would be stupid to say that he didnt expect it, but his father always said he trusted too much for his own good.

the call had been short and professional; barely 15 minutes where fred explained the situation, expressed his condolences, and wished him luck on his future endeavors. carlos couldnt remember a word of it.

all he could taste was the iron, overpowering any senses he had until his world was narrowed down to the crimson filling his bathroom sink and the tightness in his chest as he took rasping breaths in between bouts of petals.

there was no denying it anymore. hanahaki, the disease that he was warned continously about, that he thought he would never be touched by, had finally claimed him as a victim.

[hellbeloved]

uuaaauuuaagh verses until i get my shit together.

- charlie THEE stallion canon, aka the only canon for this baby bc we’re absolutely canon & fandon divergent. avoiding it like the plague!

- habbo hotel for the ogs who still write...... idk how much ill use it tho but itll Be There for those that want it & tagged

- de/ad by dayli/ght. smth smth uhhh imagine like a business major who's also taking psychology and maybe has some untoward ties to lucifer (her dads name funnily enough) & being the antichrist

- f/f1/4!!!! ahh ahh ahhh!!!! i dont have anything for this yet. smth smth voidling? sharp teeth, claws, rosy cheeks? she would be smth cute and eldritch and have no clue whats going on but listen, she just wants to help and THATS whats important here ok. your ears will get pulled.

- oh and ur standard typical human au bc she HAS to have it. in 2 flavors, modern probably, and 1920s

- piggybacking off of standard human au, she’ll deffo have like... an immortal au? (smth smth family line, the magne family is a big figurehead name that’s carried through the ages, very private family & something’s not quite Right about their ancestors but anyone who’s looked too deeply into it has died so hehe)

but she’ll also have a verse where she just jumps into the human realm throughout history for funsies, isn’t Actually human, she just looks the part & stays there until she’s at risk of getting caught & just jumps back ‘n forth. makes for a fun dynamic when she has to confront the mortifying reality of getting attached & not letting the other person know she’s a demon Lol (also smth smth ‘guardian angel’)

[another-lost-mc]

BARBATOS masterlist

➤ Fics

Comfort (cw: bullying, hurt/comfort)

Making a Claim (vampire!au, gn!reader, nsfw)

The Last Dance (afab!reader, nsfw)

➤ Poly & Multi-Pairing fics

Feel the Heat: Royals Edition (threesome, heat dynamics, afab!reader, nsfw)

➤ Short Fics/Thirsts

Making a pact with Barbatos

The ways he loves (gn!reader, nsfw)

Kisses on the battlefield

His demon form horns (gn!reader, nsfw)

Dinner with barbatos (Nightbringer timeline)

The night is young

Bittersweet

The prince's bath time

➤ Series

The Creepy Castle [ series info ]

Part I: Serptentine (gn!reader, nsfw, cw: implied somnophilia)

Part II: Hospitality (afab!reader, nsfw, cw: drugging, implied somnophilia)

Part III: Pet (gn!reader, nsfw, cw: forced imprisonment, starvation/forced feeding, animal cruelty)

➤ SFW Headcanons

Dining with the Dateables

MC is reborn in the Celestial Realm

When MC faints/has a panic attack

When MC makes them a Margiela "kiss" shirt

When movies make them cry

What they wear to see Barbie

When MC is scared of snakes

Watching over your human family

How the Little D's act when MC dates the Avatars of Sin

Shadow-walking with MC

How the Little D's act when MC dates Barbatos

When MC is a professional F1 driver

When they turn into their onesie animal

Sharing the same birthday with MC

When MC needs surgery

➤ NSFW Headcanons

When MC needs a little TLC (gn! + afab!reader)

When they go down on you (afab!reader)

When MC is quiet in bed (gn!reader)

When MC sends them audio porn (gn!reader)

Where they bite MC (as vampires) (gn!reader)

Would they use a love potion on MC? (gn!reader, cw: implied dubcon/noncon)

Lactation kink headcanons (gn!reader)

When they find out MC has a FWB (gn!reader)

When they find out Solomon is MC's FWB (gn!reader)

How they mark MC (gn!reader, cw: implied dubcon/noncon)

➤ Return to the Obey Me! Masterlist

[sukunasun]

omg i can't believe you lost all your works? that's devastating! i'm so so sorry that happened. how many months or years' worth of work was it, or do you have a ballpark figure of what's missing? i mourn the drafts we won't get to see because you're an insanely talented writer, but im utterly grateful you still choose to continue. you're such an inspiration.

i basically reenacted the burning of the library of alexandria. there were about 190+ pieces of writing (inclusive of hcs, fics, and asks,etc...) all gone so quickly i barely had time to process it.

before i went finding links and copies from reblogs, i was contemplating whether it'd be worth it since there was a lot to find and it'll take up so much time just searching for them but thankfully most of it is on my masterlist now! there were a few that i just couldn't find reblogs of / cached copies so i suppose they're orphaned work now :( hopefully i'll stumble upon them some day and will be able to link them again.

but i've come to accept it so there are no hard feelings, the grief isn't going to linger and i think the situation helped to bring some focus back to my writing and how it has changed overtime. i get to see the ways which ive improved or lacked. plus, it brought me back to the purpose behind wanting to share my writing in the first place? pre-deletion i got really nervous and felt pressured when it came to posting stuff because i didn't know what reactions i would get, there was this 'underrated writer' stigma looming around me and i was concerned about 'getting my stuff out there'—which isn't how i want to feel when it comes to doing this, i like the interaction and i like when i see my work inspiring people and garnering such positivity but at the same time posting these works was always just about wanting to share thoughts and to write the kind of stuff i want to read about.

and i think im less hard on myself, it sucks being a tortured artist...there are works i keep to myself that i'm not ready to share because im so infuriated with my own inabilities and lacklustre ways, i read them and i think to myself what the hell am i doing? do i really think to call myself a writer? thus the works posted here will render some 'detachment' from me because i know they aren't mine anymore. they become someone else's piece of favourite writing or they're most hated, once i know its out there...it'll be seen and known, it'll exist as something tangible. which is why i feel less upset about 'losing' them after they got deleted, in a way, i was already prepared to let them go. this isn't to say that i don't cherish them but that i've learned that i'll write more stuff anyway and i'll write til i can do it no longer.

when i think about my favourite writers, i'm glad i've gotten to see some of their unfinished works and drafts, their letters and their poems too, all the stuff they probably never wanted the world to see but without them i wouldn't have seen a person who struggles the same way i do.

thank you for mourning them, they were pieces that have brought me a lot of joy and i hope my future work continues to mean something to you 💛

[4mulaone]

please tell me who you think gandalf is in your f1 lotr world

honestly feel like binotto would have to be gandalf. but PRE glow up gandalf . goofy gandalf who smokes mega herb and brings illegal fireworks and gives frodo ultimate corrupting power for just a lil laff really . like he’s mumbling hocus pocus and blowing o’s whilst the dwarves fight the dragon or something . when gandalf gets that fresh bleach and tone tho its more of a mr toto wolff vibe. that white horse is a mercedes benz flex- refined and simply divine 💋 xx

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Masterlist!! (Mobile friendly)

These are in a timeline! I heavily recommend reading them in order. From The Hobbit to LOTR (Harry Potter stuff is probs going to be below my Tolkien stuff!

The Hobbit

Imagine Y/N being there when Thorin cuts off Azog’s hand in battle.

Incorrect quotes #3

Imagine Y/N being sent from the dungeons with Thorin to talk to Thranduil

Imagine Bard showing Y/N the black arrow.

Imagine hiding in the throne room when Legolas and Thranduil interrogate the orc.

Imagine breaking the dwarves out of the dungeons of the woodland realm.

Imagine Y/N being there when Tauriel saves Kili. (Not cannon to the Pethryn au)

LOTR

Imagine the reactions of the fellowship when Y/N took the blade for Frodo on Weathertop (Amon Sûl)

Imagine arriving in Rivendell with the fellowship.

Imagine Y/N sitting at the council of Rivendell with Legolas.

Imagine Y/N sassing Boromir at the council of Rivendell (Incorrect quotes #1

Imagine Legolas and Aragorn teasing you at the council of Rivendell (Incorrect quotes #2)

Imagine Y/N sitting at the council of Rivendell while everyone is arguing.

Imagine leaving Rivendell with the Company of the ring

Imagine Y/N giving the answer to the riddle at the doors of Moria.

Imagine Y/N being there when Gandalf gets captured by the Balrog in the mines of Moria

Imagine entering the woods of Lothlórien with the Company of the Ring.

Harry Potter (Golden Era)

Draco

Imagine Showing up in Third year of the Golden Trio Era (set up for later imagines)

Imagine showing up at the Dursley's house to pick up Harry(Pethryn au)

Imagine Being on the train with the golden trio and Remus Lupin. (Pethryn au)

Imagine Draco secretly wanting Y/N

Marauder Era

Sirius

Imagine comforting Sirius (X reader drabble)

James

Real or not real? (series James Potter X reader)

F1

Max Verstappen

I'm always funny, you're just not smart enough to keep up. (teaser)

Task Force 141

Ghost, Johnny and Kyle

Just a little turned around

[norabrice1701]

Rivals, Lovers, Immortals

F1 2022 Season AU - Angel!Max x Demon!Charles

Summary: In which the angel is a blunt, unapologetic Dutchman, and the demon is a charming, passionate Monégasque.  Typical, really.

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW sexual content, explicit language, alcohol, use of real radio & press-conference quotes, discussion of real-life death (that happens off-screen)

A/N: Spreading the multi-fandom net of this blog to F1! Inspired by the Charles and Max battles of the 2022 season so far with an Angel x Demon AU backstory, including some of their actual radio transcripts and press-conference quotes in bold text. This is finished for now, but might be more as the season progresses...? I still have Brühl!fics in the works, but this one jumped the queue. Thanks for reading 😊❤

Bahrain

“No, just fucking tell me what’s wrong. I’ll try to handle it.” 

…

“Everywhere, everywhere. It’s not even smooth. Like I have no fucking… even on the straight!” 

…

“No, it’s not. Mate, I have no… what the fuck is this?!” 

Hours later, Max doesn’t think about his words in the heat of the moment. He doesn’t need to. He says what he thinks, and everyone should appreciate that. The journalists, however, have different opinions. 

It still burns him. Victory stolen away in the closing minutes of the race, defeat in the form of a powerless car - he’s the reigning world champion, for fuck’s sake. He needs - no, he expects - better from his team and himself. Heaving another sigh, he rakes a hand through his still shower-damp hair despite the heat of the Bahraini night. While the shower may have washed the sweat from his skin, it did nothing to remove the stench of failure. 

Frustration simmers beneath his skin as he leans against the window frame of his hotel room. His gaze travels skyward, just able to see a few twinkling stars above the glow of city lights. He rarely spares a thought for his celestial home these days, choosing instead to fill his existence on the corporeal plane with hot asphalt, burning rubber, and petrol fumes. 

A soft knock on his hotel room door belies the strength of its owner, and Max abandons his musing. Because he’s not brooding, dammit. 

Angels don’t fucking brood. 

The door opens to reveal a familiar man who matches his height. Charles wears a wrinkled white shirt that looks hastily thrown on, unbuttoned at the neck to reveal the prominent mole that Max has kissed countless times. Mussed brown curls that always look artful even though Max knows better flop across the man’s forehead above sharp, mercurial eyes. Tonight, they glow a gorgeous green color, and Max suspects the demon has chosen this color on purpose. He doesn’t know if any of the mortals around him understand the cypher of Charles’ eye colors, but mortals tend to miss the obvious when it falls outside their realm of understanding. 

Those watchful eyes dart down the lines of Max’s body, reading the tension as clearly as Max can read the soothing invitation in Charles’ gaze. The corner of Charles’ mouth ticks up sympathetically. “I meant what I said earlier - that was shit luck today.” 

Max’s fingers tighten on the door handle as if willing the metal knob to break. “Yes, you don’t need to remind me. Especially not from your position atop the podium.” He forces a hard swallow around the words. “And I meant what I said earlier, too - but I won’t congratulate you again.” 

“Okay, fair enough.” Charles darts his gaze over Max’s shoulder into the otherwise empty hotel room. “Would you rather be alone?” 

The question rankles Max’s already seething vexation, but he turns from the door without a word and pushes it wide. The hydraulic hinge hisses as Charles catches it and steps across the threshold. 

All at once, the room is suddenly not big enough. Max can feel the demon’s eyes on his back, as if seeking to determine the existence of his wings. He can damn near taste the aura of triumphant satisfaction rolling off Charles, permeating every corner of his suite. He can hear the uptick of his own heartbeat as his hand clenches at his side. 

“I watched the race, and you know,” Charles’ calm voice drifts over his shoulder. “I’ve heard you swear before over the years, but I didn’t think your kind were allowed to say such words.” 

A spike of irritation shoots through Max, and he turns to level the full force of his displeasure on Charles. “Go back to hell, mate. And if you can’t go there, then you can just leave.” He shakes his head. “I’m not apologizing for it to you or anyone - and I’m done explaining myself.” 

Charles’ answering smile dims with sadness. “You know that I can’t do the former, nor will I do the latter. And you should damn well know by now that you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His eyes flash a dangerous shade of stormy hazel. “You can be angry, you can be frustrated, mon ange - I probably would be, too. But never yield to it.” 

Max closes the distance between them in the space of a breath, pushing his chest to Charles’. He needs the demon's advice like he needs a dead MGU-H, and he screws his fingers into those lush, unwieldy curls. Charles’ eyes blow wide, darkening to a molten green that borders on black as he smiles like the cat who got the cream. Max recognizes that he’s taken the bait and played right into the demon’s hand, but in the eternal struggle, losses balance the gains. 

He hovers his lips over Charles’, breathing the scent of luxurious citrus and cypriol deep into his lungs. “Haven’t you heard?” He purrs low and throaty, relishing Charles’ answering shudder. “I never yield.” 

“Well, I don’t either.” 

When Max unwinds inside the tight grip of Charles’ body, he almost believes in absolution. 

Saudi Arabia

“Again, it’s hard racing but fair,” Charles answers the interview question. “Every race should be like this. So, it was hard, and I’m, of course, disappointed that I didn’t win today. We just missed - I mean, we had two very different configurations with Max. We were quite quick on the corners, but slow in the straight because we put more downforce, so it was extremely difficult for me to cover Max in the straights. But it’s like this - he did a great job, and it was a fun race.” 

The interviewer nodded in concurrence. “Did I hear correctly that you were on the radio congratulating Max, acknowledging that this was a great battle? The respect is there?” 

Incredulity flashes in Charles’ gaze, but he catches his expression as he summons words. “Oh yeah, yeah - it’s always been there. I mean, especially when you finish a race like this. Honestly, I mean - we are on a straight track, we’ve been pushing like I’ve rarely pushed before to, uh, the absolute limit, and we take risks at the end. So, of course, there is respect… but a bit disappointed.” The corner of his mouth lifts as the interviewer thanks him for taking the time. 

Turning back towards his car, the large sign emblazoned with ‘2’ rubs him raw as much as it motivates him. He can’t deny that his angel drove brilliantly here in Saudi Arabia today - perhaps a little too brilliantly, but Charles has the rest of the season to put Max in his place. 

Preferably begging beneath him with those gorgeous ocean-blue eyes drunk on euphoria. 

Charles reaches for a bottle of chilled water that rests next to his helmet. The liquid slides with welcome relief down his parched throat. His corporeal body boils beneath the red racing suit, sweat soaking every last layer, but it’s of little consequence. Charles is used to far hotter climes.

Perhaps it’s a flawed thought, but since Heaven is the opposite of Hell, he’s always assumed it to be cold. He’s never found cold as inviting as heat, but supposedly Heaven has plenty of other perks to offer. His gaze drifts over to Max, watching beads of sweat roll down his neck while he also gulps mouthfuls of refreshing water. 

Now that he knows better, Charles can’t help but see post-race Max as post-sex Max. His skin holds the same lovely flush, his thick hair falls loose and damp over his forehead. In fact, whenever they collide off the grid, Charles makes it his personal mission to recreate post-race Max in his bed. 

Perhaps he’ll have another chance tonight. 

Max’s gaze finds his, those clear blue depths sparkling from the thrill of the race. “You should know,” Max says, hardly sounding out of breath as he lowers the water bottle. “The lights on the back of your car need to be checked.” 

Charles’ face widens with amused surprise. “That’s… thank you?” A smile cracks his face. “How do you possibly know this?” 

“I just spent 45 laps staring at your rear wing, mate. And you should also know,” Max raises his hand as if to demonstrate his words. “You crossed the white line on the pit entry.”

“My team told me nothing.”  

Max just nods, continuing to gesture, crossing some invisible line in the air. “And you did it again, about, like 20 laps later.” 

His scrutiny of Charles’ drive takes Charles aback, but not near as much as Max actually telling him about areas of weakness. It works to Max’s advantage to let Charles keep making the same mistakes. “If I’m so prone to errors, then why are you telling me?” Charles asks, arching an incredulous brow. “What - were you trying to get me in trouble with the stewards? Were you hoping to find an infringement that they missed?” A laugh bubbles in his throat as Max’s face betrays the truth of Charles’ words. He shakes his head, finding no reason not to lay his cards on the table in return. “Well, I also had 45 laps to watch you as you watched me - and you moved up much closer to me during a Virtual Safety Car when the race should have been neutralized.” 

Max just tilts his head from side to side in a vague gesture as his face goes carefully blank. It’s a look that Charles recognizes from his angel’s press conferences, and a small surge of victory shoots through him. At length, Max returns his gaze to meet Charles’ as the corner of those full lips ticks up. “Perhaps you also need to have your side mirrors checked if you’re seeing things.” 

Charles holds Max’s smile until they’re ushered to the podium, whispering under his breath. “Ne change jamais, mon ange.” 

Later that night, Charles turns off his bedside light, disappointed but unsurprised that Max never knocks on his door. 

Australia

“I know what you are.” Charles said to him three years ago. 

Max glanced around as if to confirm that Charles couldn’t possibly be speaking to anyone else. But it was impossible. Despite the flurry of post-race activity in the parc fermé, they were the only two celestial beings on the Australian Circuit. 

He blinked back at the demon dressed in his obnoxious red racing suit. A rather appropriate color, actually. “So, what?” Max said, shrugging. “Are you looking for an excuse why you missed the podium today?” 

Charles shook his head, those ever-changing eyes glinting stormy grey in the late afternoon sun. “No, that’s between me and my team.” He raked a hand through his disheveled, sweat-soaked hair. “I just want to understand why you are here.” 

In all honesty, it was a fair question. Perhaps Max’s presence served part of the great ineffable plan. Or perhaps, it was the universal balancing of cosmic forces. Or, maybe, it was just as simple as Heaven not wanting to admit that Hell was better than them. 

Fuck if Max knew why. 

He shrugged again at the Ferrari driver. “I’m here to win.” 

Charles considered his words for a long moment before a smile dimpled his ruddy cheeks. Helmet lines still creased his skin, and Max wrestled with the burning desire to trace those marks with his tongue. The urge grew hotter after each race, pitting in his stomach with unfamiliar hunger. 

The demon stepped closer, locking his eyes to Max’s with otherworldly perception. “How unfortunate for you," Charles said breezily. "Because I am also here to win.” 

Max nearly laughed, but despite the arousal stirring in his blood, he didn't mince words. “Bold talk for the fifth place finisher.” 

“It’s only the first race of the season.” 

“Then, may the better man win.” 

Charles’ eyes flashed before he caught himself, lowering his voice. “Except that neither one of us are men. Not how it really counts, anyway.”

Max arched a brow as he raked a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “I assure you, mate, I am a man in every way that it counts on this plane.” 

Charles shook his head, mouth pinching to a tight line. “Sure, you are - just as I am, just as we were each sent here to be.” He held Max’s gaze as if nothing else mattered. “Just corporeal embodiments of our bosses’ eternal struggle that we each represent, non?” 

Annoyance pinched the corner of Max’s mouth. “I don’t talk about that boss. And certainly not with you.” 

A low chuckle sounded in Charles’ throat unlike the easy laughter that he gave during press conferences and interviews. “I imagine not. Christian would pull you from the driver's seat without a thought if you told him who you really worked for, or that you didn’t need Red Bull to give you wings since you already have them.” 

A smirk came to Max’s face. “Don’t they say that the Devil drives a Ferrari? If I’m not mistaken, then that would be Mattia - or does he already know that you keep your hair long and wild to hide your horns? Or, I think - maybe you learned that hairstyle tip from him?” 

It wasn't the cleverest or even the most mature thing for Max to say. But now that the race had ended, distraction had set in. The heavy weight of human sorrow hung around both him and Charles, soaking the paddock in grief for the third day now. Death went hand in hand with life for mortals, but unexpected tragedy always struck a deep chord. Max had met Race Director Charlie Whiting on several occasions, and in his corporeal state, Max wasn’t immune to the shock of the man’s sudden passing last week. 

But Charles didn't rise to Max's taunt. Instead, his face sobered as if he could read Max’s thoughts even though that wasn't one of Charles’ talents. As a fellow celestial inhabiting the mortal plane, Charles was just as vulnerable as Max to these sorts of situations. Usually the rush of adrenaline and surge of endorphins on the grid kept the maudlin thoughts of human life at bay, but it always found a way. 

Charles blinked back at Max, tilting his head. “You hear them, do you not? The prayers?” 

Max forced a swallow down his suddenly dry throat as he tried to keep his face neutral. “Sometimes. When I listen carefully.” He nodded gently at Charles. “Do you hear them?” 

Charles’ eyes widened as if stunned. Admiration - or perhaps adoration - flashed in his suddenly soft green eyes as the corner of his mouth lifted with a wistful edge. “I’ve forgotten how to listen, let alone how to pray.” 

“No one forgets how to pray, mate.” Max shook his head to emphasize his point. “Not even the fallen. We hear you.” 

“By your own admission, that doesn’t mean you’re listening.” 

Max didn't have an immediate answer. His fellow heavenly hosts were mostly content to ignore the furtive whispers of the fallen. After all, as Max had been thoroughly reminded, why should rebellious traitors be granted even a modicum of grace? 

Somehow, though, he didn’t think Charles was looking for grace. No, he was referring to something else… something to do with his own fall, perhaps? Admittedly, Max knew nothing about it, and he knew better than to ask. He had secrets of his own past, and it was best to let Charles keep his. 

Sometimes in human life, there just weren’t words - but Max knew he had to try. “Well," he said softly. "I’m listening to you.” 

Charles’ answering smile threatened to outshine the sun, and traitorous emotions stirred in Max’s chest. 

Maybe this was why he was here, after all. 

“I guess we just have to appreciate every day and every morning you wake up and that you enjoy life, and that it’s not only about Formula One but there are a lot of other things in life and this is just one part of it.”

The memory comes to Max unbidden. He spends so much time moving forward at 200+ kph that he doesn’t devote much to reminiscing. But as he stands in his driver’s room, letting the cool air blow over his heated skin, he doesn’t have much else to do. 

The scent of leaky fuel fumes still stings his nose and overheated smoke clings to his skin. He tries not to let his second DNF in three races get under his skin, but it’s a futile effort. There’s simply too much on the line. Instead, he reaches for his laptop and finds the post-race news coverage. 

Watching others’ victorious satisfaction in the wake of his own failure is a special form of punishment. It’s a penance, a vow - a reminder of the sport’s unforgiving nature. Only perfection is rewarded, and Max has every intention -

His heart clenches as Charles’ radiant smile lights up the screen. He projects bright-eyed triumph, his skin flushed with exertion to nearly match the red of his racing suit. The camera blurs the helmet lines that indent his cheeks, but Max’s fingers still itch to trace them on the demon’s skin. Charles ruffles his hair, ever mindful of the cameras, and his smile entices with the promise that anything is possible. He flashes a cheeky thumbs-up just before he moves out of frame. 

Max's blood boils. Everything about Charles’ carefully crafted appearance is so easy to fall for, and that's where Max finds himself… falling. 

Even as he strips out of his sodden race clothes, he lets the post-race coverage continue to play through the podium ceremony and the press conference. 

Charles’ voice carries through the speaker with notable excitement. “But we’ve got a very strong car - a very reliable car, too - and, for now, we’ve always been there.” A smile grows on Charles’ face to fill the screen. “I hope it continues like this, and if it does, then we probably have chances for the championship which makes me smile.” 

And Charles does have such a lovely smile. 

In fact, Max intends to keep it just for himself tonight. 

Italy

“Yellow at Turn 15. Leclerc has spun. Think he’s gonna get moving again – yeah, he is moving. Track all clear. Track is clear.” 

Max hears GP over the radio, and his heart stutters. But the car demands his full focus, and half a lap later, his worry for Charles is carefully tucked away. At least, his demon is still continuing to race even if he has fallen back in the pack. 

When Max crosses the finish line to secure the podium top step, he’s grateful for the frigid cool-down room. He’s not grateful for the video footage that replays the race, including Charles’ spin. Fortunately, it wasn’t severe and Charles had recovered to secure P6, but Max still feels his throat choke at the thought that someday Charles might not be so lucky. 

He quickly blinks the thought away, afraid what he might betray if they don’t change the conversation topic. So, he does. “That train was together the whole race,” Max says with a chuckle, nodding at Lando’s question. “Yeah, they were together the whole race, and I had to pass them twice.” 

He gives his own post-race interview, and he catches up on Charles’ media once he boards his private jet back to Monaco.

Charles shakes his head, frustrated regret tightening the lines of his face. “P3 was the best I could do… we didn’t have pace for much more, and I was too greedy. I paid the price for it and lost seven potential points, so it’s a shame.” 

The words echo in Max’s mind for the duration of the flight and for the drive back to this apartment. He’s shockingly sober considering his grand slam, and irritation itches beneath his skin. His apartment is too quiet, and his mind buzzes too much to hop into the simulator or go to bed.

He gets behind the wheel of his car and takes off into the warm night. He tells himself that he’s just out for a drive - as if he hasn’t done enough of that today - but he glides to a stop in front of a familiar building before he realizes it. 

Charles hasn’t made a secret of where he lives - at least, not to Max. As a fellow resident of Monaco, Max has driven by this building numerous times but he’s never stopped out front until now.

He reaches for his phone and fires off a text. It takes Charles thirty-six seconds to respond with confirmation and instructions. The elevator ride passes in a surprisingly nervous blur, and Max’s heartbeat quickens as he steps out into the hallway. 

Piano music fills his ears. Gorgeous, soulful, sonorous tones that speak to the very core of his immortal being. The melody cuts the corners of his mind, speaking to him in a language that defies words. It’s enough to nearly stop him in his tracks, especially as he registers that it comes from the door of Charles’ apartment. 

Max’s mouth goes dry. Is it… could Charles be the source of such bewitching music? The thought stirs desirous heat in his blood as he steps up to the door and rings the buzzer. Silence falls as the music stops and Max’s breathing sounds impossibly loud in the pristine, marble hallway. 

The door opens to reveal Charles with soft, post-shower hair above round glasses that flatter the shape of his face. He’s dressed in dark joggers and a white t-shirt - and even though Max has seen him dressed to the nines, Charles has never looked better. A tired smile lifts one corner of Charles’ mouth as he holds the door open, displaying the familiar rings and bracelets adorning his right hand. 

It’s a sight that Max wants to come home from every race to find waiting for him - and the thought punches him in the gut. 

Charles blinks back at him. “Typically, it’s polite for the guest to extend a greeting.” 

Heat burns the tips of Max’s ears, but he refuses to blush. “Hello.” 

“Hello.” Charles’ eyes sharpen with amusement. “This is a new one for you… showing up at my apartment. But strangely enough, not unwelcome.” He pushes the door open with a clear invitation. 

Max searches for words as he steps through the doorway and glances around Charles’ personal space - taking in the white, lush decor; the shock of dark wood shelving bedecked with vibrant racing helmets and shiny trophies; and, the glossy white, upright piano that holds a prime spot in Charles’ living room. He settles for the obvious as his gaze lingers upon the ivory and black keys. “I didn’t know that you played piano.” 

“It’s an old habit,” Charles admits, drawing up along Max’s side. “One that always soothes me, you could say. These… mortal minds,” he waves a hand towards his head, bracelets clacking with the motion, “they’re impossible to silence, sometimes. Music helps.” 

Max nods as he looks back to study the lines of the sleek, white instrument. “What was the piece that you were playing just now?”

“Nothing fancy… just one of my own.” 

No wonder the tune made Max want to carve out his heart if it meant Charles would never stop playing. No wonder the demon could create a tune that transcended every word mortals had on this plane and spoke the closest to Max’s native heavenly tongue. 

He turns his gaze in time to watch Charles shove a surprisingly nervous hand in his joggers’ pocket. Charles arches an uncertain brow above his wire glasses as he speaks. “Did you like it?”

Max holds his face neutral, shrugging a shoulder. “It was okay.” 

A chuckle rumbles in Charles’ throat as he sees through Max’s indifference. “You do know that lying is a sin, mon ange. As is pridefulness.” 

“No doubt you’re the expert on those. Which made it all the more interesting hearing you talk about greed to that journalist.” Max tilts his head with interest. “Shouldn’t you be extolling the virtues of greed instead of airing your grievances with it?”

Charles’ brows pinch with confusion - or perhaps, it’s irritation. “Yes, because that fits the mortal narrative,” he intones with mockery. “'I couldn’t do any better than P3, but I was greedy for more and my aggressiveness paid off when I finished P6 instead.'” He exhales, heavy with frustration as he shakes his head. “Not even I can make that sound good.”

“Then, how about you just leave the moral lessons to me in the future, yes?” 

Charles arches an incredulous brow. “Is that really what you came all this way, at this time of night to say?” 

Honestly, Max didn’t know why he’d stopped at Charles’ building and now stood in the middle of his living room. Maybe it is about confronting him for that interview comment. Maybe it is just the need to reassure himself that Charles is alright after that spin. Maybe it… maybe it’s just to hear more of that captivating piano music. 

Max’s gaze strays to Charles' dexterous fingers. He knows what those elegant digits are capable of when wrapped around a steering wheel or when teasing Max’s body to the brink, but now… to know that they’re also artistically talented? 

Max drags his gaze up the length of Charles’ strong forearm to his lines of his chest undisguised by his shirt. “Would you play for me?” 

The air goes thick as Charles nibbles his lower lip in a moment of consideration. “Do you think that’s wise? You know what my music is….”

Temptation personified, Max wants to say. A sin for his ears that his body wants to indulge. In the grand scheme of things, though, is it any worse than knowing how the demon sounds when he’s speared open on Max’s cock? A smile lifts the corner of Max’s mouth. “Consider it my prize for the grand slam today.”  

A frown darkens Charles’ face before it vanishes, replaced by bone-weary exhaustion. “You had to bring that up? As if I haven’t heard every journalist say that ever since the chequered flag.” He shakes his head, raking a ringed hand through his lush hair. “And that’s on top of what they’re saying about me.” He drops his voice in mimicry. “‘Oh, this is the first time we’ve seen a real mistake from Charles Leclerc. He’s been under such pressure for three rounds, and after today, can he recover? Or is he cracking under the strain?'” Shaking his head, he scoffs in disgust. “Fucking bastardos… how little they know.” He glances over at his piano, sighing heavily. “That’s the only way I’ve found peace today.” 

It should probably be ironic to hear a demon talk about finding peace, but Max doesn’t think that’s what Charles wants to hear right now. Instead, he follows Charles’ gaze to the pristine white instrument. “Then, don’t let me stop you.” 

Charles doesn’t even pause to reconsider. He pads across the floor to resume his seat on the bench. His fingers curve in graceful arches over the ivory keys, and he leans into the opening notes. Rich, mellifluous tones fill the air as Charles pours his heart out. Each note carries the passion that Max knows is there, each swell of the treble trills and the rolling bass waves convey the beauty and fascination that Charles' presence represents. 

The music wraps around Max, threatening to suffocate him as he watches Charles play. His face relaxes with calm contentment as his deft fingers glide over the keys with graceful accuracy. Notes drop like the lovely pitter-patter of rain, and Max loses himself. 

On quiet steps, he draws up behind Charles and stops close enough to let his body heat resonate against the seated man’s shirt. The piano music continues unbothered, and Max dares to lay a hand on Charles’ shoulder. His other hand follows and despite Charles’ picture-perfect posture, he leans into Max’s touch. 

Emboldened, Max leans down to nuzzle Charles’ neck, breathing deep the scent of woodsy soap before dragging his tongue along Charles’ steady pulse. The beautiful melody starts to fracture as Max teases a trail of kisses and nips along the tender skin. Charles’ breath hitches deliciously as Max trails a hand across the front of Charles’ chest, thumbing a nipple through the fine cotton. Charles’ fingers stutter, and the melody dies as he arches back against Max with a high-pitched whimper. 

“That’s it,” Max coos against his skin. “Let me help you, too.” 

“Yes, yes.” Charles breathes as he raises his right arm overhead to wrap around Max’s sturdy shoulder. “Just you.” 

The possessive tone in Charles’ voice makes Max dizzy as blood rushes to his cock. He nips Charles’ collar bone, sucking on a patch of skin that will stay hidden from prying cameras. “Only me,” he growls as he tugs Charles back against him. “Fuck, I want you here - right againt your piano. So that every time you play it, you think of me… you remember that you’re mine.” 

Another gorgeous, needy whimper pitches high in Charles’ throat as his nails dig into Max’s shoulder. “You are not going to make a mess of my piano.” 

But when Max finally slides inside Charles, the inferno of the demon’s body scorches his wings and maybe - just maybe - Charles will forgive him. 

Miami (and some Austria)

Charles presses the beer bottle to his lips and tips his head back. The liquid’s turned stale in the hours since it was opened, but he doesn't care. Humid Miami night air swirls around him, doing little to cool his flushed skin as he stands on a hotel balcony high above the neon city. 

It's not a bad view, but of course, he wouldn't expect any less of Max's accommodations. He doesn't turn back to look at his angel still lounging in bed, though he knows it's a delicious sight. Probably as delicious as the sight of himself bare except for boxer briefs, basking in the glow of city lights that highlight the drops of their combined sweat still clinging to his skin. 

He sighs into the quiet night, tilting his head back as his frustration continues to ebb. His second place finish in the inaugural race still gnaws at him, but not as bad as the memories of his first ever second-place finish three years ago. 

“What the hell is that?!”

…

“Yeah. Anyway… not gonna comment. But I was on the outside, he actually cut my space just as he did the lap before, but anyway… I hope the stewards will see right.”

…

“Then, on the incident, I’ll let the stewards decide. For me, it was pretty clear in the car, I don’t know how it looked like from the outside. We’ll see what the decision is.”

Charles deliberately didn’t look at Max in the cool-down room. He couldn’t trust the words that might pour from his mouth if he dared to meet those too-blue eyes. Gripping the water bottle tight, he took long drinks of chilled water as if it would douse the fury that raged beneath his skin. 

His smile on the podium was non-existent. As he stood listening to the Dutch anthem followed by the Austrian anthem, he held his face carefully neutral, ever wary of the recording cameras. Of course, the brilliance of Max’s victorious smile only added to Charles’ anger, and none of it was helped by the realization that this was Charles’ highest-ever finish since he started racing in Formula One. That fact alone should overjoy him, but instead, he just dug his nails into his palm as his hands rested behind his back. 

He deliberately avoided all champagne spray and left the podium before anyone could stop him. 

The second place trophy mocked him from across his hotel room as he stripped and showered. Especially now that the stewards’ verdict had been rendered, that was it. There would be no punishment, and Max would retain his first place win. 

Hot water seared Charles’ skin as he stood under the swirling steam, frustration bottling up inside him. He didn’t know exactly what he needed to release it, but he knew where to start. Throwing on a white t-shirt and dark shorts, he abandoned his hotel room and stalked down the hallway. 

It took Max four knocks to open his door, and Charles watched his face harden when he met Charles’ blazing eyes. He didn’t give Max a chance to speak, pushing around the broader man’s frame to barge into the hotel room. It didn’t look any fancier than Charles’, and beneath the simmering rage, it struck him that he’d never been in Max’s personal space before. A rush of anticipatory thrill mixed with his already boiling blood. 

“I thought you weren’t going to comment.” Max’s voice carried over Charles’ shoulder, his words tightly coiled. “You said that you weren’t going to comment, and then, that’s exactly what you did - several times, in fact.” 

“You would have done the same.” 

“You don’t know that.”

Charles’ mouth pinched to a tight line and his left hand balled at his side. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s done. The stewards have decided.” 

“Then, why are you here?” 

“Because I have to know… even if the Stewards didn’t see it - I want to hear you admit it.” Charles turned, anger twisting his face. “I want to hear you own up to what you did to me out there.” 

Max’s brows raised as if he’d never heard a more ridiculous request. His face held the picture of innocence, and Charles wanted to scratch the look off with his claws. Instead, he just watched as Max braced a hand against his hip as he spoke. “I meant what I said - it was hard racing and we ran out of room. I had the inside line, there was contact-.” 

“You pushed me off the fucking track! You gave me no space!” 

Max gave a short, sharp shake of his head as the line of his jaw tensed. “I’m not doing this with you, mate. You said yourself - the stewards have decided. There’s nothing for either of us to admit except that it was hard racing.” 

“You stole it from me!” Charles hissed, closing the distance to Max before the angel could even blink. His eyes burned a dark scarlet as he seethed. “It was my race and you ripped it from my hands. I gave it my all, and you ripped out all I had just to win.” 

Max held his gaze and fire raced down Charles’ spine as those ocean-blue eyes turned stormy. “You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t have done the same.” 

“I would have followed the rules.” 

“So did I.” The angel’s gaze swept over Charles’ face, lingering on the line of his mouth, and static crackled in the air. Charles’ blood raced, heart pounding as desirous hunger fired in his belly. Max dragged his gaze back up to meet Charles’, exhaling a deep breath that held the faintest tremor. “You need to leave, Charles. Take your anger out on someone else.” 

“What if I don’t want to? What if I want you?” He paid no mind to his phrasing as he waved a frustrated hand in the small space between them. “You’re the cause of it anyway.” 

“Is that so?” Max’s eyes darkened as his tone dropped to a sinful register that he shouldn’t be capable of. 

A delicious shiver crawled down Charles’ spine, and the last piece fell into place as his body came alive and his cock thickened. Words failed him, his lips finding Max’s within the space of a breath - and those gorgeous, full lips met him head on. 

The kiss ripped the breath from Charles’ lungs, draining the blood from his head and curling his toes. Max pressed with feverish, bruising force that rushed liquid fire down Charles’ spine as their teeth scraped and tongues tangled. The angel tasted like forbidden salvation, and Charles offered up every part of his damned soul.

Strong, calloused hands found Charles’ hips and snaked around his back, crushing him closer. A growl rumbled in Charles’ throat as they connected from chest to thighs, dizzy from the rush of Max pressed flush against him. He wanted Max to take him apart, to be reminded of this perfect moment with each step he took tomorrow. 

Charles’ hands roamed across endless planes of toned and taut muscle, teasing the firm shape of Max’s clothed backside as he blindly rolled his hips forward. He couldn’t find the words for how much he wanted Max to wreck him, but he tried to use his tongue as he arched against the broader man with desperate need. 

Ragged moans sounded from both of them when the hard lines of their cocks connected. Charles’ heartbeat ratcheted higher as he chased the delicious friction, gasping against the drag of Max’s teeth along his neck. He clawed at the hem of Max’s shirt as his knees threatened to give - and why they fuck were they still standing here? Digging his nails into Max’s hips, they moved in a fused tangle back towards the bed. Charles’ breath punched from his chest when his back hit the mattress and Max’s heady weight bore down on him. 

He wasted no more time to strip Max out of his shirt, revealing a delicious tableau of solid muscle. Dragging his fingers across the smooth, flushed skin, he pinched a nipple as Max sucked on the junction of Charles’ neck and shoulder. By Satan, it was good - it was fucking great - but it was hardly enough. 

With a growl, Charles arched his back to ease the removal of his own shirt, and the press of skin on skin was dizzying. Their mouths connected for a harsh, sloppy, devouring kiss, a whimper sounding high in Charles’ throat as his hips pushed up against Max’s with intent. 

“What do you need?” Max breathed into his mouth, grinding his erection against Charles’. “Tell me.” 

Charles moaned as sparks shot through him. “Need you in me,” he breathed. “Need you to fuck me.” 

An unholy growl sounded from Max as he thrust down hard against Charles. It held delicious promise, and Charles hated how much clothing was still in the way. Max’s words came breathless against his lips. “I don’t… I didn’t exactly plan for this.” 

“I don’t care.” Charles pushed as the waistband of Max’s joggers. “Want you - need you.” 

Max groaned as he lifted his hips to accommodate the slide of his own clothing and to strip Charles of his last layers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Charles dug his nails into the broad expanse of Max’s back and tilted his head to meet the angel’s eyes. His pupils nearly eclipsed the ocean-blue depths of his beautiful eyes, and Charles wanted everything that Max would give him. “I want it to hurt.” 

Charles blinks back to the muggy night as smoldering embers ignite in his blood. He may have just left the heat of his angel’s body, but Max has always stirred an insatiable hunger. He hadn’t wanted to admit to himself prior to Austria three years ago, but after that night… well, he knows better than to deceive himself. 

He takes another drink of lukewarm beer before stepping back inside. Cold, conditioned air washes over him, and it doesn’t feel as stifling as it did in the immediate post-orgasmic minutes still wrapped in Max’s embrace. 

But speaking of his angel… the man still lays sprawled against the luxurious cotton sheets. His eyes are closed, and Charles drinks in the endless expanses of tanned, toned skin on display. He recognizes how spoiled he is to have a lover with such looks, but then again, he’s never been one to settle for anything less than what he wants. 

It’s as true on this mortal plane as it ever was. 

Slowly, as if feeling the weight of Charles’ gaze, Max cracks an eye and arches a questioning brow. “Stop staring.” He sighs as he relaxes further into the mattress. “It’s nothing you haven’t already seen.” 

“Doesn’t mean it’s still not beautiful - or that you’re not beautiful.” The words leave him, and Charles’ brow furrows. Is that the right way to say it? Admittedly, English isn’t his strongest language, but Max doesn’t look bothered. Instead, his angel shifts his hips and flexes his toes in a deep stretch that lengthens the already lovely lines of his bare body. 

It’s more temptation than Charles can resist, and he slides his boxer briefs back down to the floor before crawling onto the mattress. He drops a kiss to a kneecap, slowly nuzzling up the strong line of muscle towards Max’s hips. His tongue leaves a trail as he goes, marking his angel’s skin with little nips of his teeth. Max’s breath hitches when Charles mouths along the inside of his thigh before sinking his teeth into the meaty muscle. 

Max curses low in a language that Charles doesn’t recognize - Dutch, perhaps - as a heavy hand finds Charles’ sex-mussed hair. “Round two already?” 

Charles’ chuckle hums against Max’s skin as he studies Max’s renewing arousal. “Instead of an objection, I see you raising something very different.” He drifts more kisses back towards the outside of Max’s thigh and hip, leaving his cock unattended for the moment. “You know that I have endurance - even godlike stamina - as one of the fittest athletes in the world.” 

Max snorts an inelegant sound as he arches a brow. “I know that you just came so hard that you killed some brain cells, but did you forget that I’m also one of those 20 fittest athletes?” 

Charles’ mouth quirks as he tilts his head to rest his cheek against Max’s hip, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Don’t you have… how they say, reliability issues?” 

It’s a testament to the sex-blissed state of Max’s brain that he just lifts the corner of his mouth and screws his hand tighter in Charles’ hair before speaking. “Don’t confuse the car with the man.” 

“Believe me, mon ange,” Charles turns to press a kiss to the soft, sensitive skin of Max’s belly, “I like your chassis much better.” 

Max shudders with poorly concealed laughter as Charles continues to nuzzle and kiss his way down to Max’s burgeoning erection. He nuzzles the base of trimmed hair, inhaling Max's scent into every fiber of his being. His tongue licks a long stripe as he settles over Max's solid thighs and takes him into his mouth. The salty and tangy taste of him stirs a moan in Charles’ chest as he hollow his cheeks. His angel arches into the touch, groaning deliciously and tightening his fingers in Charles' hair. 

He revels in the power of the heady moment with his angel so wrecked beneath him. His fingers tease between strong thighs to where his earlier release threatens to drip from Max's body. It’s effortless to slide two fingers past the loosened muscle and find Max’s white hot spot with easy familiarity. 

Eventually, he takes mercy on Max. And when he replaces his fingers with his cock, he hates how much it feels like home. 

Spain

“Switch off the engine?” 

Even as Charles hears himself say it over the radio replay, there’s no mistaking the heartbroken dejection. Not that his retirement from today’s race hurts any less hours later, but he knows that he said all the right things. 

“It’s okay. We’ll come back stronger.” 

Or was that the wrong thing to say? He swallows the mouthful of liquor before thumping his head back against the pillow and switching over to the replay of post-race interviews.

His, of course, comes up first.  

“We just need to understand what went wrong, for it to not happen again because every point is important and today, by the look of it, we’ll lose quite a lot of points in the championship, so yeah… we cannot afford to do that too many times during a season. So now, we’ll just keep our heads down and come back stronger at the next race.” 

He cards his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh as he takes another long drink, feeling the alcohol burn to the pit of his empty stomach. He has to play the mortal game to stay in this sport, but… is it so wrong to want to believe it? To want that to be all there is? 

Perhaps his angel is rubbing off on him more than he realized. 

The thought of Max makes his stomach clench. To Max’s credit, he said nothing on the radio when word reached him of Charles’ power failure and subsequent retirement. He just kept his head down and won the race. Part of Charles burns at his race-focused detachment, but he can’t entirely fault the man. 

The man. Pfft. 

By all accounts, especially to the ignorant eye, the Dutchman is just that - just as Charles is a Monégasque. But one celestial recognizes another with razor sharp accuracy. In quieter moments, Charles tries to picture his ocean-eyed angel with a gleaming halo and feathered wings. Each time he does, Max looks insufferably bored, and a smile teases Charles’ face. Perhaps that’s why Max does what he does here on the corporeal plane. 

Charles can relate. He remembers trying to ask Max about it three years ago in Australia, but now realizes that he didn’t convey the full meaning of his question. At this point in his existence, he speaks too many languages to get any of them perfect, and English is just another on the list. 

Max, however, doesn’t seem to have that problem as his victorious post-race interview plays. 

“I got a question for Max,” the journalist said from his phone speaker. “Today, we have seen that Leclerc had to retire. Do you have the feeling that these cars are less reliable than the previous years’ cars?” 

Charles’ ears perk as he turns his gaze to his phone screen. 

Max huffs a breath. “It shouldn’t be really car related because, like, the engines and stuff are pretty much the same. Of course, the fuel has changed a little bit, but it’s a bit weird, yeah…. Also, from our side, of course, we had already two retirements where before we were always really strong on reliability, so it’s a bit difficult to tell.” He pauses, shaking his head. “It’s also not major issues that we had. I don’t know, of course, about Ferrari, but from outside - it’s little things, and yeah… we are trying to be on top of that. But I don’t think it’s specifically car related.” 

Charles’ heart skips in his chest, and he registers a lazy smile curling his lips. A numbing - because he’s not drunk - fog grows in his brain as he watches the rest of the press conference conclude.

Taking another burning drink, he shuffles against the mattress. Careful not to spill the half-empty bottle, he opens his text messages and finds the number that he wants. 

Lec: That was nice of you. What you said 

He raises the bottle to his lips as he hits send and waits for the blinking dots to appear. An excited current arcs in his chest when Max doesn’t disappoint. 

Ver: You think so? 

Lec: I know so, mon ange 😘

Ver: … Are you drunk? 

Charles snorts as if he’s never heard a more preposterous idea. He blinks down at his phone to clear the swirling letters from his vision as he types. 

Lec: How dare you dout meLec: *doubt 

Ver: Even without your poor poker face, you’re a shit liar 

Lec: I’m nothing of the sort. I’m just the driver of a powerless carLec: And the owner of a lonely heart… and bed 😉

Ver: Your wink is not sexy 

Lec: Now you hurt my feelingLec: Err, feelings 

Ver: Mate… everyone knows you can’t wink

Lec: That’s what I want them all to thinkLec: You, alsoLec: My wink is too powerful for mortals 

Ver: Now I know that you’re drunk 

Lec: And you’re still not here 

Ver: I’ve driven enough for one today, ja? 

Lec:🖕Lec: Below the belt, mate 

Ver: I’m not sober enough to drive… 

Lec: But are you sober enough for me? 😘🍆

Ver: You’re going to hate yourself by morning 

Lec: I know what I’m doing. Don’t you? 

Charles’ breath catches when those blinking dots disappear, starting and stopping several times. No message pings on his phone, and he nibbles his lip in a moment of doubt. He presses the liquor bottle to his lips for another long drink to ease his uncertainty. 

When his phone pings with a message, he doesn’t even try to stop the goofy smile that overtakes his face. 

Ver: I know that I wish you were here 

Lec: Me, too. Or that you were hereLec: Though, there’s still a permanent smudge on my piano 

Ver: Your fault for getting it in white 

Lec: I never expected an angel to lack such self-control 

Ver: Maybe you’re a bad influence 😈

Lec: I’m the best influence, mon angeLec: You’re just jealous 

Ver: Maybe I amVer: You are giving a lot more love to a liquor bottle than to me right now 

Lec: How dare you! You’re getting all ten of my fingers at onceLec: At least, as many of those as it tajes to type

Ver: We should each get some sleep 

Lec: Tomorrow? Today?Lec: I want to see youLec: Seeing you makes it… not so bad, even if your stupid face reminds me of what I lost 

Ver: You know you like my face 

Lec: Don’t put your words in my mouth 

Ver: Later today, you can have whatever you want of mine in your mouth instead

Arousal buzzes in Charles’ veins and his head spins. If only he wasn’t so drunk, if only Max was more sober… ugh, why does later today have to be so far away? 

Ver: Welterusten, Charles 

Lec: Buona notte, mio angelo

He sighs like a lovesick fool as he sets the liquor bottle on his bedside table and finds his feet. They seem kilometres away from his head as he navigates to the bathroom, but he’s too high on the fluttering of his heart to care. 

Monaco

Max stands along a quiet corner of the shoreline, letting the sea breeze wash over his cheeks and indulging the briny scent. He doesn’t usually take quiet moments for himself like this, but after yesterday… well, he’d almost fucked everything sideways.

In his defense, Charles had been irresistible after the qualifying round finished. He beamed with triumphant pride after having secured his fifth pole position of the season, and the journalists flocked to his gorgeous, dimpled smile like moths to a flame.

Unfortunately, Max had been equally as helpless. Seeing his demon flushed with exertion, eyes bright with excited adrenaline, and hearing him speak about the thrill of racing in his hometown – well, his home as far as mortals knew – Max hadn’t even given it a second thought.

Max just stepped in front of the cameraman and dropped his warm hand to the back of Charles’ neck. His thumb stroked along the collar of Charles’ racing suit for the space between breaths before giving a solid clap on Charles’ shoulder. The demon didn’t hesitate to break from the interview, swinging his gaze around to find Max. His eyes softened to a lovely, mossy green as tender affection flashed across his handsome features. He reached out for Max in return, and while the contact was brief, it had been enough.

Only upon seeing the replay did Max realize all the implications their interaction stirred up. Would anyone suspect that they were more than just friendly rivals on the track? Would it be such a big deal if they did? Despite their true natures, he and Charles have been carrying on as they have since… well, at least since Austria 2019, but Max knows it goes far beyond that.

He still can’t put his finger on why this season is different, though. Why had he been so careless with his affection yesterday? Has Charles just finally burrowed deep enough? Have Charles’ claws left indelible marks on his soul? Or is it simply that Charles with all of his delicious contradictions is Max’s equal and opposite in so many ways? A perfect match on and off the track.

The rolling grey clouds part overhead, and sunlight warms Max’s skin. He lets his eyes close, tuning his ears to the ethereal harps and heavenly choirs. A light breeze ruffles his hair as he breathes and allows himself to listen.

His restlessness kicks in immediately. He braces a hand on his hip, opening his eyes and glancing upwards. “Well, what did you expect?” With a shake of his head, he arches an eyebrow. “You knew what would happen.”

Fond warmth kindles in his chest as his thoughts settle back to Charles. Perhaps it’s good for both of them that neither of them were the top step finishers of today’s race. Despite the frustration and raging emotions of the human condition, there is something humbling about it. It stirs hunger, fuels determination, feeds passion. Perhaps it’s what they both need. Or, perhaps, the mortals who blundered should go eat dirt. A smirk teases his lips as he wonders what Charles’ opinion of the matter would be.

But speak of the devil. Literally.

Soft footsteps draw up alongside him, and Max recognizes his demon instantly. Charles’ presence wraps around him like a too-soft, too-hot blanket. Max is capless, dressed lowkey in jeans and a dark t-shirt, and absently, he wonders how Charles found him lurking along the shoreline, but he should know better by now.

Somehow, they always find each other.

Charles’ upper arm brushes his. “I thought you would be out celebrating.”

“Not much to celebrate, mate.” Third place is Max’s lowest finish of the season so far, and the press corps have been kind enough to remind him of that at every opportunity. There’s sufficient room for improvement, but they both know that already. It’s as true for Ferrari as it is for Red Bull.

Charles hums in gentle agreement. “They do try… our mortals. Perhaps we ask too much of them.” He purses his lips in thought. “Or, perhaps we expect too much of ourselves.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He turns, the tease of his smile catching in Max’s peripheral. “Perhaps you’re to blame for that.”

“You can’t blame me when you know what I am.”

“Perhaps.” Charles lets the noncommittal word hang in the air for a long moment before he takes a deep breath. “What do you think they would say? … If they knew about us….”

Of course, telling the mortals that they’re agents of Heaven and Hell isn’t an option. But what would it be to go public with… well, whatever he and Charles are. He wets his top lip in an uncharacteristic moment of hesitance. “I think maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Charles’ mouth curls to a blinding smile. “At least, not until I accidentally turn up wearing a Red Bull shirt.”

“Wouldn’t your skin burst into flames first?”

“You forget that I happen to be partial to fire.” He tilts his head. “You know, I’ve always wondered – by comparison, does that make your home in the sky cold and icy?”

“If I tell you, are you going to say that’s why I drive the way I do?”

“No, mon ange,” Charles nudges his arm. “Any ice in your veins melts to those who know the fire in your heart.”

Everything about Charles’ words kindle fond affection in Max’s chest, and he swallows down traitorous words that crawl up his throat. Objectively, he knows that loving this demon would never win him favors or simplify his corporeal existence… but he refuses to settle for less than what he wants. And Charles… well, Charles is it.

The demon blinks back at him, face pinching in uncertain concern. “Are you…,” his words trail off as his grassy-green eyed gaze roams over Max’s skin like a brand. A smile teases Charles’ lips as he reads everything he needs to know in the lines of Max’s face. “Don’t tell me that you’re going soft.”

“For you?” Max recovers enough to respond, unable to stop from slinging his arm around Charles’ shoulders as he’s done so many times on the grid. “Never, mijn demon.”

Charles’ eyes flash the most brilliant, beautiful green that Max has ever seen. “Same, mon ange.” His smile rivals the sun as he wraps an arm around Max in return, settling against his broader frame. “Same.”

Max’s heart soars, and he swears he could fly even without his wings. There’s so much more that they could say, and things that maybe they should say. But why spoil the moment? The season is young and so much more lies ahead of them.

For now, this is enough. In fact, it’s more than Max could have ever hoped for. Contentment grows in his chest as they stand together – rivals, lovers, immortals.

“What do you think will happen first?” Charles’ voice is soft in his ear. “Your boss throws a lightning bolt at us? Or mine makes the ground swallow us up?”

Max huffs a laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine, mate.”