manicdemon
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- Formula 1 RPF (1)
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Summary
“Is this all it takes then?” Max asks, instantly snatching the cherry floating on top of her drink. Charles stares resolutely into her eyes, refusing to watch the way Max’s lips wrap around the stem. “Your first race win in three years is all it takes for you to start outwardly flirting with me?”
Charles’s nose wrinkles, her face screwed up into something between disdain and confusion. She snags her straw between her teeth and takes a long drink to stop the first thought that jumped to the tip of her tongue.
“I am not flirting.”
Charles isn't gay. At least, she doesn't think she is until Max kisses her.
Bookmarked by manicdemon
25 Dec 2024
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Charles was fifteen when his dæmon settled.
It was a perfectly average age to settle, and it happened so quietly and naturally that neither he nor Moira even noticed at first. They had other things to think about: today, they were aiming to beat out Ben Barnicoat and Max Verstappen at Val d’Argenton.
It wasn’t until they were getting into the kart that they realised. Moira normally transformed into an insect to race, something small enough that she could crawl inside Charles’s race suit and be protected as he drove. Today, she didn’t even try to change; they both just looked at each other, and knew.
“A mouse,” he said.
Bookmarked by manicdemon
23 Dec 2024
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“Max,” the guy says, “Max Verstappen? I am a paranormal investigator. You emailed me a couple of days ago about that… haunt of yours?”
Or: Charles lives in a haunted house. His ghosts adore him very much.
Series
- Part 3 of monster fuckers
Bookmarked by manicdemon
04 Nov 2024
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For a dizzying moment, Charles wonders what he looks like to Max. Dressed in fading white to Max’s eternal black, bathed in the shadow Max casts over Charles in contrast to the golden halo of his husband’s hair. The layered wedding dress pooled around them, head tilted upwards, lips parted, like he’s ready to say a prayer.
Ready to receive Max’s blessing.
Waiting for Max to give him purpose.
To guide him.
Series
- Part 2 of mythos of mine
Bookmarked by manicdemon
27 Oct 2024
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The congregation had pulled him into their ranks as soon as he reached the age of maturity, their youngest priest in over three centuries, the lion’s mark etched into his back with an ivory blade. Charles cried silently. They did not watch, but They heard it anyway.
It burns, red lines on pale skin, his devotion to his god permanently, perfectly, forever part of him. It isn’t enough.
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This isn’t love, but it is a love story.
Bookmarked by manicdemon
11 Oct 2024