An alternate F1 world where vampires secretly rule the grid. Some humans work for the teams, unaware of the true nature of their employers... until you arrive.
Not like fuel or rubber. Something sharper. Iron in the air, the scent curling into your lungs making your heart thump too fast. You didn't realise what it was until you saw the way the other drivers were reacting.
They weren't laughing. They weren't smiling.
They were huning.
Ando someone had invited you into the middle of it.
You had barely gotten three steps past the mclaren hospitality when Charles appeared out of literally nowhere.
"Bonsoir," he said, voice soft and smooth, like velvet wrapped around a dagger.
You startled. "Charles. Hey. I didn't..."
"Expect me?" he finished for you. I'm always close. When I need to be."
His smile was way too perfect. His eyes gleamed under the silver circuit lights, and you realised with a sick drop in your stomach: his pupils didn't dilate. At all.
He offered you his arm.
"Allow me to walk you to the media pen."
You hesitated. Lando's warning echoed in the back of your mind: "Don't let anyone walk you back alone... especially not Charles."
But Charles was smiling. Everyone could see you. And you weren't exactly ready to admit that you were getting walking directions from a vampire.
So you nodded and let him lead.
What a big mistake...
The moment you stepped out of the paddock crowd, his grip tightened.
Not painfully. Not yet. But possessively.
"you've been spending time with Lando," he said, voice still light.
You tried to laugh. "We work together."
He stopped walking and all you could think was oh fuck..
"Lando doesn't work with humans," he said, softly. He toys with them. He drinks from them. He ruins them."
Your mouth went dry. "Excuse me?"
Charles tilted his head. "You smell like him."
The silence stretched, electric and terrible.
"And he's not supposed to mark you without permission."
You didn't know exactly what that meant but you sure as hell didn't want to find out either.
"Charles..."
"Too late," another voice appeared.
Lando.
He appeared from the shadows like he'd been summoned by tour pulse alone.
His eyes weren't brown anymore.
They were glowing. Gold.
Charles stepped back. Just a little. But enough.
"I was just talking to her," he said.
Lando smiled, cold, sharp. "No... you weren't."
You'd never seen someone move so fast. One second, Charles was beside you. The next, Lando had him pinned against the wall of the motorhome, arm across his throat, fangs out.
The sound Charles made was more animal than human.
"Lando..!" you gasped.
He didn't look at you. He was breathing hard, every inch of him shaking with restraint.
"She's not yours," Charles spat, teeth bared.
"She's not yours either," Lando snarled. "Touch her again and I'll tear your fucking throat our in front of the whole grid."
Blood. You could actually smell it now.
Thick and warm and real.
You stepped forward, hand brushing Lando's shoulder. "Please. Lando."
His head turned so fast it blurred. His eyes landed on you, and just like that, the fury crackled.
"Go," he told Charles, voice hoarse. "Before I change my mind."
Charles vanished into the dark. You barely heard him leave.
Lando turned to you. His expression was... terrifying.
And then it wasn't.
He brought you into his motorhome. Locked the door. Sat you on the bed like you might fall over.
His hands were shaking.
"I'm sorry," he said, pacing like a caged animal. "I shouldn't have let you out of my sight."
You were still trying to breathe normally. "You were right about him."
"Of course I was right," he snapped. Then softened instantly. "God, I'm sorry. You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
He crouched in front of you. Reached for your hand.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No."
"But he wanted to."
The silence throbbed.
"You smell like fear," he murmured.
"I'm not afraid of you."
Now that got his attention. His eyes flicked up, caught yours.
"You should be."
There was a pause.
"I didn't mean to mark you," he said.
You blinked. "What?"
He looked away. "The bruises. From last night. I thought I held back."
Your mouth went dry. "That was you?"
"I only meant to scent you." he said, like that explained anything.
"It's like... like a warning, for the others. They wouldn't have dared to touch you if I'd done it properly."
You swallowed. "So do it."
He froze.
"What?"
Your heart thundered. "Do it right. Whatever that means."
"You don't know what your asking."
"I trust you."
He stared at you, something ancient burning behind his eyes.
"I won't take blood," he said, voice rough. "Not unless you ask. Not unless you mean it."
You nodded.
"Just show them I'm not alone." you whispered.
He moved closer. Brushed your hair back with trembling fingers.
And then - so gently it made you ache - Lando leaned in and pressed his lips to your throat.
You gasped Not from pain but from the heat.
From the way his breath shuddered against your skin.
From the quiet growl that slipped out of him when his teeth grazed over the mark he'd left.
"Mine," he whispered.
You didn't know if he meant it as a warning or a promised.
But your body believed him.
And that terrified you more than any monster.
You fell asleep in his bed that night, fully clothed, heart still racing.
He didn't touch you again.
But when you woke up hours later, he was sitting in the chair across from you.
Watching, protecting, burning.
You didn't fall back to sleep.
How could you? Not with the way he was watching you - still as stone, eyes molten gold in the low light, hands folded neatly in his lap like he was holding back the part of himself that wanted to crawl across the floor and taste you.
It was terrifying.
It was everything. No one had ever looked at you like that before.
You sat up. "Are you going to stare at me until sunrise?"
Lando blinked slowly, like you pulled him out of some deep trance.
"I thought you were asleep."
"I was pretending," you admitted. "You were being... intense."
He huffed a breath - almost a laugh, almost. "I'm always intense. You're just not used to being around someone like me."
You met his eyes. "Then tell me what you are."
Silence stretched between you. Lando stood, crossed the small space between the chair and the bed, and sat beside you - careful not to touch.
"I was born human," he said quietly. "But I was turned when I was seventeen. Monaco. Night race. 1865."
You blinked. "That would make you..."
"One hundred and sixty," he said. "Technically."
You stared at him. "You don't look a day over twenty."
He smiled. "Perks of undeath."
Then his expression shifted. Grew darker. "But don't let the face fool you. I've seen wars. Betrayals. I've fed on monsters worse than you could imagine."
You swallowed. "And Charles?"
"Old blood," he said. "Noble. Arrogant. Dangerous in the way that men who've never been denied tend to be."
You hesitated. "Did you two used to be..?"
"Don't finish that question," Lando cut in, voice sharp. “He’s not part of my story. Not anymore.”
He stood suddenly, agitated. You could feel the shift in air pressure. He was trying not to snap.
“I should’ve protected you,” he said. “From the start. I thought the scenting would be enough. But he still touched you.”
“I’m okay,” you said, stepping closer.
His eyes flicked down to your throat. His jaw clenched.
“No, you’re not. You’re shaken. You’re pretending not to be.”
You looked up at him. “Then make me feel safe.”
It slipped out before you could stop yourself.
Lando went completely still. His breathing slowed to near nothing. His eyes darkened - not with anger, but with something more dangerous.
Desire.
He stepped closer. Raised a hand. Slowly, deliberately, he traced a line from your jaw to the side of your neck, not quite touching, just the ghost of it.
"You don't know what your asking," he murmured.
"Then show me," you whispered.
He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear. "If I mark you again, properly this time, you won't just smell like me. You'll belong to me."
"And if I want that?"
His breath hitched.
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.
Then...
"No," he said.
You blinked. "What?"
"I won't take you until you understand what that means. Not just the danger - the permanence."
He turned away. "You'd be stepping into a world with no exits. And once they know you're mine, they'll come for you. Not just Charles. The others. The old ones. Max."
You felt your pulse jump. “Max?”
Lando nodded grimly. "He runs the Red Bull coven. He's... not merciful. He respects power and nothing else. And right now... your on his radar, he's curious."
"Why?"
"Because I've never looked at anyone the way I look at you."
The air left your lungs.
He stepped forward again, hand hovering just shy of your cheek.
"I don't know what you are to me yet," he whispered. "But I know I'd bleed for you."
You reached for him without thinking.
And the second your skin met his, Lando gasped. Eyes wide. Fangs flashing.
His knees buckled.
"Lando?"
He stumbled back against the wall, gripping his chest.
"What's happening?"
He looked up at you, eyes wild. "You touched me," he said hoarsely.
"And?"
"I felt it,"
he whispered. “Like fire. Like fate. No human’s ever—”
He cut off, staring at your hand.
“You’re not just human,” he said slowly. “Someone’s done something to you.”
Your breath caught. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m going to find out.”
He grabbed his phone and sent a message.
Oscar↳ we need to talk. tonight. bring THE books.
You backed up. “books? What books?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he came closer. Lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Soft. Reverent.
“I won’t lose you,” he said. “Even if I have to tear this world apart to keep you.”
Trigger: *makes many scenes and shots more cinematic and beautiful than they are in the manga, animates the manga beautifully and brings the artstyle to life, and generally adapts the manga in a very accurate and straightforward way*
Fans: 😑
Trigger: *removes one shot that was in the manga*
Fans: OHHH MY GOD 😱😱 I can’t BELIEVE they cut this shot!!! They clearly don’t understand the manga! 🤬🤬🤬 I’ll never forgive them! Terrible adaptation 😔
Genre: idk I wrote this because Mahoraga is glorious
Summary: Formless, yet terrifying to witness. You found a scattered spirit in your realm. A feast for the Void. His wrath, his pain, his desire encompassed the emptiness around you.
AN: Please let me know if I got anything wrong but this is just made up non cannon.
Beyond realm of humans and curse users exist many worlds. Independent of each other these worlds align only in few aspects of existence.
There remain many mysteries. Things unknown. Divine General Mahoraga is one of them. Who is he? A shikigami? A curse? A deity tied to the wheel of dharma? A monster perhaps.
No one the world of mortals may ever know. A monstrous form, untamed by any. The origins of Mahoraga remain deeply veiled in mystery, leaving unanswered questions about who bestowed upon him this formidable form and what force propels his unyielding fury.
Eons ago or rather in the past flow of time, there existed a spirit, a weak tattered soul. Some say it was the soul of a fallen king, betrayed by his kin, while other state it was of priest devoured by sin, no one knows.
The spirit of a human who dared venture outside the realm of it's existence. Into the unknown that hosts secrets of the world.
Beyond the laws of good and evil, right and wrong. It ended up in the Void. A world of nothingness at the same time a world bubbling with the hunger for everything. Your world.
Formless, yet terrifying to witness. You found a scattered spirit in your realm. A feast for the Void. His wrath, his pain, his desire encompassed the emptiness around you.
Intrigued and perhaps entertained by this newfound distraction, you bestowed upon him a form—a warrior with eight hands, a general endowed with the power to annihilate worlds. Unbound by the laws governing the universe, you placed the wheel of dharma on his back, granting him the agency to forge his own destiny. Mahoraga, you called him, your voice ringing loud in the Void.
Thus, your own form emerged from the first emotions of your existence—a shape akin to his, destined to bring about the end of days for all life. Even in their existence, these forms held a certain ethereal beauty. The delicate feathers framing his eyes and the golden anklets adorning his feet became symbolic manifestations, a gift or a testament to your prowess. And for the first time, it held the substance beyond the nothingness of the Void.
Mahoraga, your only companion in the worlds across universe. Untamable. Yours.
Deep in the recesses of your realm you feel it. You hear it, the clatter of the Wheel of Karma and the unbothered smile on your face is frozen for the first time.
The nothingness of your realm was broken. Mahoraga was gone. Someone had dared to harm your creation without your divine consent. Someone had erased your creation challenging you.
The Void, renowned for its impartiality, responds to this breach with a profound shift in its essence.
In eons, your form is unchanged but for a flickering moment it glimmers with a light so bright that the Void is changed forever. The balance of the worlds was tipped and so was your restriction to your realm.
Your eyes gleam red with rage. You feel what parts of Mahoraga had once been contained in the Void now unbound. Rage, pain, and greed you get to know them better than any.
For what was taken from you, you were ready to burn the world. But most of all the curse that dared to challenge you. And the Void was no more.
