Missy781
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Charles doesn’t know how old Max is. Five and twenty, at least. No wonder Lorenzo is fearful. Heat courses shorten and burn out quicker with age. After four years of marriage an omega should’ve long since whelped. It is no surprise then that everyone seems so excited for his marriage and mating. The Lords of Ferrari praying for his happiness, and the whelping of healthy children it should lead to.
If only they had found someone prettier.
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Cuckoo's lay their eggs in other bird's nests.
Bookmarked by Missy781
22 May 2026
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Summary
In the interim between F1 seasons, Charles finds himself afloat and searching in all the wrong places for something he probably should have let go of years and years ago.
Max keeps showing up.
[Charles’ pov of sweet, ripe, red as a streetlight]
Series
- Part 2 of sweet, ripe verse
Bookmarked by Missy781
22 May 2026
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He keeps Sophie strapped to his chest as he walks through the pit lane. It is loud and chaotic, and stinks of burning rubber and carbon fibre. Fuck, it smells good. Sophie keeps on blowing raspberries, spit flying, but hey, at least she is keeping herself occupied. Max keeps walking, and everyone lets him pass. He feels people stop in their tracks and turn around to stare at him. Each garage going quiet as he passes, and then the next, and then the next. Some pup drops the wheel gun as he whirls around, mouth dropped to the floor.
Of course.
No one has seen Max Verstappen in four years.
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Max and Charles, Monaco race day, 2030.
Bookmarked by Missy781
22 May 2026
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When Max Verstappen shows up to the Silverstone paddock on a Friday in early July sporting cat ears and a tail, Charles Leclerc promptly loses his mind.
But with handsy drivers, nosy journalists, and unhappy competitors lurking, the problems pile up fast. And worse for Max, a tail isn't the only thing he's grown.
Bookmarked by Missy781
18 May 2026
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“Put your hands on me,” Max prompts, staring up with his wide blue eyes and a tinge of pink in his cheeks, the most beautiful thing Charles has ever seen. Slender fingers wrap around Charles’ ankles, the way Max likes to do.
The words sink in.
“No, I-I can’t, not today,” Charles chokes, shaking his head. “I can’t, I would- hurt you, I can’t take care of you now, I’m sorry-”
“Charlie,” Max repeats, his expression tender, open. “It’s not for me.”
letting himself want has never been easy for charles
Series
- Part 6 of settling in (connected stories)
- Part 8 of formula 1 fortnights (fic collection)
Bookmarked by Missy781
17 May 2026