#wygig: snippet

[ladysomething]

Can we have a snippet please ? I feel like I'm in wygig withdrawal

honestly same. but there's honestly nothing I can from 32 that isn't a huge spoiler, so I've looked further ahead. still spoiler-y if you can put together a few different things I've said (particularly if you're in the server....)

“It’s chocolate cake,” Sophie announces as she leads them inside. “And I have cream. And ice-cream, it’s homemade. Max, did I tell you I’ve started to make ice cream?” 

“No, Mamma, but you know that we can’t have—” 

“I made vanilla special for you both, though there is chocolate as well. I think a hot chocolate might be nice as well, what do you think?” 

“That sounds like a lot of chocolate. What about—” 

“Chocolate is for the soul, that’s why. I think there might be some tea somewhere. Charles, darling, what about a chamomile tea? Max, you’re in Aleksy’s room, why don’t you go put the bags away?” 

“Should I even ask where Aleksy is sleeping?” 

“I was going to spare you, but he’s of course sleeping in with me. I don’t even remember the last time he used that room.” 

“Mamma—” 

“Bags, Max.” 

Max sighs, then turns back around to leave the house. Sophie gently pushes Charles into a chair into the little living room, then moves over to the side of the room where a little kitchen fills a corner. 

“Hi, Charles!” 

He turns his head to see Kelly’s head popped up over the back of the lounge, a big smile on her face. 

“Great win on the weekend,” Kelly continues. “I was particularly impressed with the way you pushed Max off the track.” 

Charles would laugh, if he even had the energy to do that. 

“Here, darling,” Sophie says, then places a plate in front of him with a slice of cake and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it. Then she presses a cup of tea into his hands, and runs her palm over the top of his head. “Drink this tea, it’ll do you wonders.” 

He takes a little sip, and Sophie must’ve put a dash of cold water in there because it’s a good temperature. He takes a larger sip, the warmth spreading down into his chest, and closes his eyes as he tries to linger with the pleasant feeling. 

When he opens his eyes again, the cup is on the table and Max is sitting beside him, halfway through his own slice of cake. He and Sophie are chatting quietly about the drive.

Charles reaches forwards for his own slice, trying to pick up the fork, but his vision is doubled and he misses it. The plate clatters loudly, and both Max and Sophie turn to look at him. 

“Uh—s-sorry.” 

“Don’t worry, dear,” Sophie says softly. “Why don’t you finish your tea and go have a lie down?” 

He shakes his head, then has to press his hand to his temple when a bout of dizziness hits so fiercely he feels like he’s about to fall out of the chair. 

He closes his eyes again, trying to push it away, but when he opens them again Max is laying him down in a bed. 

He grabs frantically at Max’s shirt, panic rising—if he lays down, he’ll fall asleep. He can’t sleep. 

“N-no, Max, p-please,” he begs, but his eyes are feeling so heavy. 

“Sleep, Charlie,” he whispers, cool palm pressing against his cheek. “Mamma made you a nest. Does it feel nice?” 

Charles snuggles his cheek into the soft pillow beneath him, body melting into the blankets. 

“You’re safe,” Max murmurs. “I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you again.” 

Charles tries to open his eyes, but they’re so heavy. His whole body is so heavy. 

“Max,” he slurs, hand slipping from his shirt. “Please. He—” 

He’s asleep before he can finish the sentence. 

[ladysomething]

Hi !

Dear Lady would it be too much to ask for a Wednesday WYGIG snippet ?

I am longing to hear from those two cute lover birds.

you can actually have a longer one today, because there's a whole section with not really any spoilers!

Charles is sitting on the front deck of the yacht, trying and failing to work on his composition on a piano app on his phone, when the bell for lunch rings. 

He looks up, startled to see Max sitting on the lounge beside him and reading a book. 

It’s the same one he’s been reading in Charles’ Dreyma Ver-öld for the last few nights, and Charles can’t help but laugh. 

“So that’s how you’re reading them so quickly!” 

Max looks up, startled, expression quickly morphing into something sheepish. 

“It’s good,” he says defensively. “And it’s not like there’s anything else to do out here. I couldn’t exactly bring my sim.” 

Charles peers at the title, then laughs again when he reads it. 

“Away We Go?” he teases, locking his phone and dropping it beside him. “What even is that? I don’t remember ever seeing that before.” 

Max flushes even redder than he already was from the sun, holding the book closer to his chest defensively. 

“Nothing,” he says, too quickly. 

So it’s something, then. 

Charles is quick to abandon his work, knee-crawling along the lounge quickly to try to reach for it. Max sees him coming and shoots up and away, book still clutched to his chest, and Charles simply has to know now. 

Max is like a startled deer, darting across the deck on wobbly legs as the yacht cuts through the waves of the Mediterranean. Charles is laughing too hard to give proper chase, only made worse by Max tripping as the boat crests a wave. He slams into the side of the yacht, book dropping from his hand, and Charles has to catch himself on the rail because he’s laughing too much. 

The laughter dies when he realises, at the same time as Max, that this is the perfect opportunity to grab for the book. They stare each other down for a long moment, salt spray misting over them, and then they both dive for it at the same time. 

Charles throws himself onto the ground, knees stinging from the impact, and scrabbles for it right as Max collapses on top of him, sweaty chest sticking to Charles’ bare back uncomfortably as they both reach for it. 

Charles gasps with victory once he wrestles it out of Max’s grip, quickly sliding it towards him and underneath his chest to protect it from Max’s desperate hands. 

“Charles,” Max groans, hands still seeking the book. 

Charles starts to laugh again, head falling to rest against the deck as he safely protects his prize. 

“Get off,” he says in between chuckles. “I’ve won, be a good loser.” 

Max sits up, but he doesn’t get off, instead straddling Charles’ waist and sitting heavily on the tops of his thighs. 

“No,” Max grumbles, a little petulantly in Charles’ opinion. 

He giggles again, then gets his elbows underneath him to prop himself up. He flips the book to the back cover to read the blurb and try to figure out why the Hell Max was so defensive, but he only gets about two sentences in before he realises. 

“Max,” he gasps, immediately opening the book to the page Max had hurriedly dog-eared. “Is this a romance book?” 

Mark’s strong hands lift the edge of Carly’s dress, revealing her creamy thighs to his hot gaze. 

Max snatches the book from his hands, and before Charles can even think properly, he flings it overboard. It arches through the air then splashes in the waves below, quickly left behind as Charles stares over the yacht in shock. 

“I finished all the racing books,” Max explains, still entirely defensive. He’s also still sitting on Charles’ back. “So I went to your mother’s collection—” 

“My mother?” Charles screeches, whipping his head round to stare over his shoulder at Max.

The sight of him perched on top of him, broad chest pink and sweaty from the sun, makes Charles suddenly feel more than slightly crazy. One of Max’s hands is curled around the rail, but the other is spanning Charles’ waist, fingers resting over top of one of his new bite marks there. 

A smirk creeps up the corner of Max’s mouth, and Charles knows that whatever Max is about to say is going to wash away the heat that’s started to curl in his stomach. 

“Yes, your dear, darling mother is reading romance books where the main character gets fuc—” 

Charles screeches again, pressing his hands underneath him quickly and pushing up with all his strength. It takes Max by surprise and dislodges him, his back hitting the rail and pushing the air from his lungs. 

They both stare at each other for a long, tense moment, Charles paused on his hands and knees and staring at Max with wide eyes, Max struggling to pull a breath in and slumped against the rail. 

Max breaks first, gasping out a choked half-laugh, hand clutching his ribs. Charles huffs out of his own shocked laugh, then collapses on his side as Max half-gasps, half-groans. 

“Fuck,” Max grunts around a laugh. “Christ—Charles—” 

Charles is laughing so hard he can barely see, but he still pushes himself up again to crawl over to Max. He slumps against the rail, trying to stifle his giggles, but it’s difficult with the weird, punched out noises Max is making with his own laughter. 

“Just—breathe,” Charles instructs through his laughs, closing his hand around Max’s bicep. 

[ladysomething]

where ma snippet lady (fond)

is it Wednesday, I can't tell??

was gonna torture you all by not giving you all what you want to see, but then I thought I'd be kind.

“I want to know what happened in Zandvoort.” 

Charles’ stomach immediately curdles. He pushes up from the bed, lips pulled back, and marches towards the bathroom. 

“I’m having a shower,” he mutters. 

He hears Max stand behind him, and then he feels his hand around his wrist again. Charles yanks it out, more forcefully than necessary, to keep walking. 

“Charles, please.” 

Max’s quiet plea makes Charles stop in his tracks. He feels immediately guilty for snapping at him, over something that is not even close to Max’s fault or problem. But Charles doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to pretend that weekend never happened. 

“I had a bad race,” he says, the same thing he said to Max on Sunday night when he’d come into Charles’ destroyed driver’s room to pick him up and take him to the airport. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I know you had a bad race,” Max says slowly from behind him. Charles doesn’t turn around. “But, Charles. I just—I know something else happened, yes? Jean-Luc said Fred came into your driver’s room, and that when he left you destroyed the whole thing. And the way you felt . . . What did he say to you?” 

Charles’ mind goes blank as he remembers that moment, Fred coming, saying he’d sabotaged everything, pressing his warm lips against Charles’ . . . 

He doesn’t want to say anything. He doesn’t want Max to know. 

Even just the thought of saying it aloud makes Charles feel so dirty, so ashamed. He can’t believe that he let Fred anywhere near him, that he didn’t do anything. Why didn’t he do anything? 

He just let him kiss him, and for what? For what? Because Charles was terrified? Because he didn’t know what to do? Because his mind went so blank with fear and horror that the thought of shoving Fred off him didn’t even cross his thoughts? How the Hell is he supposed to say any of that to Max? To Max, who is his alpha. His—his partner. He let another man kiss him, and Charles doesn’t want Max to know that he betrayed him like that. Even the thought makes his hindbrain flare with panic, a tumbling swirl of he can’t know, he’ll leave me if he knows, he can’t know, he’ll leave me if he knows.

[ladysomething]

Can we please get a snippet of max coming home to charles in the next chapter Plz!

so funny bc in the original version I skipped over them being reunited. however the new version does include it, so I do in fact have something to offer you!

Charles is sprawled out on the floor of his closet, staring up at the ceiling, when he hears the front door open and close. 

“Charles?” 

“In my room,” he calls out, staying where he is. 

As much as he’s missed Max over the last couple days, he just can’t really bring himself to get up. He’s been laying here for what feels like hours, but is probably really only twenty minutes, because he’d gotten part way through packing a bag for Zandvoort and then just . . . couldn’t do anything else. 

Exhaustion had taken over, and he’d simply laid down, too tired to even make his way back to his nest. He knows he should have gotten up to get into bed, but he just couldn’t be bothered. 

Max’s steps are heavy as he comes up the stairs, dropping the bags by Charles’ door and coming in. The floor creaks as he crosses the threshold, and the heavy scent of rain starts to fill the room. 

The scent is intoxicating, beautiful and addictive, and as it rolls over him it’s like he gets a little high from it. He takes a deep breath, sucking in as much as he can, lungs tingling from the joy of it. 

“What are you doing in here?” Max asks, clearly amused. 

Charles turns his head to see Max standing in the doorway of the walk-in, leaning against the frame. 

“Hi,” Charles breathes, a smile pulling up his cheeks. He reaches out greedily, hands grabbing for Max. “Get down here.” 

Max laughs under his breath, but kneels down anyway. Charles grabs his shirt, yanking him down properly onto the ground, and Max grunts as he hits the ground. 

“Ow,” he says, though it doesn’t sound like he means it. 

Charles wraps himself around him, twisting his leg through Max’s and throwing an arm over his waist. Most importantly, he sticks his nose into his throat, desperately trying to inhale as much of Max’s scent as he can. 

Is he crazy, or does he smell better than usual? 

He lets out a little moan, squeezing his body even tighter against Max’s so he can press his tongue against his scent gland to try and get more of a taste. 

“Hello to you, too,” Max says, laughing. 

Then he reaches down, gently pinching Charles’ chin between his thumb and index, and tilts his head up to catch his lips in a slow, deep kiss. 

[ladysomething]

no snippets on snippet Wednesday? 🥺

I truly-truly in love with little developments, must’ve reread the last chapter 10 times over…

Thank you for your tireless work!!!

I can’t tell, did you guys want a snippet?? 😂

Here, have an extra long one!

With this being the last meal before Max leaves, Charles takes it into his own hands.

He still can’t hear anything from Max’s room when he passes by the closed door to go upstairs, but he gets started anyway because it’s now almost half past eight.

Aware that Max is probably going to be the hungriest he’s been now that his rut is so close, he chops up all the fruit he can find. Bananas, strawberries, melon, grapes, oranges. He puts three croissants in the oven to warm up—one for him and two for Max—and scrambles eggs. He pours them both some juice, but makes Max a smoothie as well. The only meat Charles can find is chicken, so he grills that as well.

When Max comes upstairs, there are circles under his eyes, he’s got on two sweaters, and there’s a stack of paper under his arm.

“Morning,” he says carefully, eyeing all the food Charles has piled high. “Looks . . .”

The fruit is oddly shaped and mushy from his terrible cutting; the tops of the croissants are burnt; the eggs are cold and rubbery; the chicken is dry; there are smoothie chunks everywhere from when he’d tried to add more milk to the blender without stopping it.

The only thing that looks good is the juice, which he poured straight from the carton.

Charles pulls his lip between his teeth, cheeks pink.

“No, it looks good!” Max says quickly.

Great. It looks so bad that Max, the bluntest person he knows, is lying.

“I tried really hard,” Charles defends weakly.

It’s not really like Max can cook so much better than him—most of their meals are still pre-made, and supplemented with food that's easy to make. Still, even Max has never butchered heating a croissant.

“It’s fine, Charles,” Max promises. “I haven’t even eaten any yet.”

Charles tries to fight his pout, but it doesn’t quite work because Max circles the counter and puts his hand on his elbow.

“No, see, it’s fine,” he repeats, reaching out to pick up a croissant as he squeezes Charles’ arm.

His face twists a little as crispy, burnt flakes of croissant drop everywhere, but he still swallows his mouthful. Charles doesn’t believe him at all, but there’s nothing he can do now except throw it all out, which he doesn’t want to do.

Max seems determined to eat it anyway, so they both carry it all outside into the sun. Charles sits in the shade while Max sits directly in the sunlight, glasses perched on his nose.

The food is far from good, but it's edible, and Max eats it all like he can barely taste it anyway. Charles was right—he is clearly the hungriest he’s been, and he eats everything, even all the fruit that Charles was sure he’d need to store away.

Charles eats far less, but watches on, pleased with Max’s satisfaction when he leans back in his chair and stretches his arms above his head.

His shirt pulls up, revealing a patch of pale skin and the waistband of his underwear. Charles doesn’t even realise he’s staring until Max slumps back down, shirt falling back to cover him.

It’s getting warm out here, Charles decides, pressing the back of his hand to his cheek to cover his flush.

“I brought the contract up,” Max says after a moment, putting his hand on top of the stack of papers he’s brought with him. “If you still want to read it.”

Charles reaches over the table eagerly and Max simply hands it over, though there’s still a large stack of paper left on the table.

The Mating Rights and Exclusive Access to the Omega, Charles Leclerc.

It’s thinner than he remembers it being.

[ladysomething]

I forget, is it snippet wednesday or full chapter wednesday today?

hi!

it is snippet Wednesday, and I did post one last night, but after the day we've alll had .. fuck it, lets have another one.

this one will also be heavily edited before it makes it's way to ao3, so that's exciting! yay for seeing the process!

“You can talk to me,” Max murmurs, voice so endearingly awkward and unsure. “If you want. I—I’ll listen.” 

He’s so nice. He’s always so nice, always just wants to be kind to him, but Charles doesn’t think he deserves it. 

“Why would you do that for me?” Charles asks, sniffling loudly. 

It’s pathetic. He’s pathetic. 

“You know why,” Max answers, a little helplessly. 

Charles’ heart squeezes, so painfully it makes him whimper. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve Max, and his unwavering loyalty, his dedication to keeping Charles safe even when he was being such a dick. He definitely doesn’t deserve to still have Max’s love, even when Charles can give him nothing back.

“I’m sorry,” Charles says, but it comes out almost as a sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ve been so mean to you and now you’re stuck with me forever and I can’t even . . .” 

“Stuck?” Max asks, clearly bewildered. Charles doesn’t blame him—he’s just as confused at his own behaviour. It makes him cry harder, because Max is being so gentle, even though Charles is acting crazy. “What on Earth makes you think I feel stuck? If anything, you’re the one stuck with me.” 

“You are,” Charles cries, fists tightening in Max’s shirt. “You’re so nice, and you always defend me, even though Lando was right, because I can’t make any food and you always have to do it and maybe I can’t have kids but everyone keeps telling me that you want them! I’ve ruined everything. I ruined your life, and my life, and what if I can’t even win the Championship? What if I’m not good enough? And—and—Kelly! What about Kelly? Jean-Luc is here, all the time, and not with Kelly and Penelope and it’s all my fault, I’m so stupid, I don’t know why all of you would do this for me! I’m not worth it, I’m not, Max, I’m so stupid.” 

Max rubs gentle, soothing circles on his back as Charles sobs desperately into his neck. He doesn’t even know where half of that came from, which just makes him cry more. 

What is he even saying? What is he talking about? He really is so fucking stupid—

“You’re not stupid,” Max whispers fervently. “Don’t even say that. You’ve been put in an awful situation and you tried to make the best of it. That doesn’t make you stupid.” 

Charles sobs loudly, rubbing his wet face against Max’s shirt. 

“Don’t be nice to me,” Charles whispers desperately. “I don’t deserve for you to be nice to me.”

[ladysomething]

girl!!!! we deserve a snippet after this cunty race!!! pleaseee 🤩

weeellllll .. I could do a snippet early ... considering I've got something else cooking for tomorrow.

something a little different today, because the scene I've added below might not be exactly what ends up in the chapter next week. its currently unedited, so, yeah. maybe not the final version!

“—a rut hotel?” Lando says incredulously from outside. 

Charles’ ears prick, lifting his head and opening his eyes to stare out the doorway. He hadn’t been listening to their conversation before, so engrossed in his own, but now that it’s silent in the kitchen he can hear them clearly. 

“Just stop,” Max sighs tiredly. “Lando, seriously. It’s none of your business what I do during my rut.” 

Charles’ stomach swoops uncomfortably. 

“I just don’t understand,” Lando says, an edge of desperation to his voice. “Why do you even—what’s the difference between me and him? You can’t spend your rut with him, he clearly can’t cook or take care of the house, and you expect me to believe that you, you, haven’t already knocked him up? So clearly he can’t even do that—” 

“Stop right there,” Max hisses. He sounds furious, and Charles knows exactly the strong icy scent that’s probably wafting off of him right now. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, because you’re my friend and I know that this isn’t you. I know that you’re too angry and jealous to understand why what you just said is so cruel, but you need to think about why I might take so much offence to what you implied about both him and me.” 

Charles’ breath catches in his throat as Lando goes quiet. He stares out at the open door, a complexity of emotions swirling in his stomach and making it churn. 

“I’m not saying anything about you,” Lando says after a moment, clearly defensive. “I just meant—well, I know how much you want kids, so if he can’t give them to you then—” 

“So we’re clear,” Max interrupts coldly, “I don’t love him because of what he can give me or do for me. I don’t want him because he’s an omega. I want him because he’s Charles. Don’t ever get that confused again.” 

Oh. 

Oh, Charles feels—

His throat goes tight, overwhelmed at the sudden warmth creeping through his chest. Hearing him say that, that he loves him, that he wants him for him . . . and he’s not saying it for Charles, to change his mind or sway his opinion or make excuses. He’s defending him to Lando, somebody he likes and is friends with, because he genuinely believes that what he’s saying is true. 

“Max,” Lando says, voice shaking. 

“Lando, please,” Max sighs, and this time he sounds exhausted. “You’re my friend. I’m sorry that I can’t give you more than that, but it’s the truth. Please just be my friend.”  

[ladysomething]

I'm so impatient, but I love this story too much!

If u have time , would we be able to get another snippet ??? Preferably a cute moment between max and charles if u don't mind☺️

honestly I barely remember the snippets I've shared from the upcoming chapters, but I also feel like there's been so many?

but here is a short one anyway!

“Charles,” he says eagerly, when he comes to stop at the foot of the lounge, staring at Max in shock. He can tell from where the movie is now paused that Max is partway through the fifth film. “These movies are—also, this pink lady is pissing me off. I can’t believe I’ve never seen these.” 

“Max,” he says slowly, trying to be gentle. “It’s eight in the morning. Have you slept?” 

Judging by where he’s at in the series, Charles will happily guess he hasn’t. 

“Well, no, but—” 

“Lando is coming today,” Charles interrupts. “Maybe you should go get some sleep?” 

“But the movie—” 

“We can finish it after you sleep. Come on.” 

Max bites his lip, but relents easily enough. The bags under his eyes are deep purple, lids half closed, and he needs a shower. But he’s compliant following Charles up the stairs, though he does turn back to get one of the blankets. 

Charles watches him with narrowed eyes, until Max says, stupidly honest and probably half-delirious, “It smells like you.” 

Well. 

Max follows him up the stairs, then tucks himself into bed quickly, the blanket he’d brought up smushed between his cheek and the pillow. Slowly, Charles reaches out, carefully brushing his hair back from his face. Max tilts his head up into his fingers, seeking out Charles’ touch. 

[ladysomething]

Omg the last chapter where do I start ? IT WAS AMAZING!

I'm so curious to see what happens next, could we get a snippet from the next chapter please ?

crying I forgot I wrote this, good like with this snippet ya'll

They’re seated at the table when Charles brings it up. 

“So does your dick get extra big when you have a rut?” 

There. That should ease them into the conversation. 

Max chokes on his mouthful on broccoli, coughing loudly. Charles hovers awkwardly, wondering if he should help, and thinking that maybe that wasn’t actually the best way or time to start. 

Max takes a deep drink of water, cheeks flushed bright red, staring at the ceiling as he gulps the water. Charles waits for him to get himself together, trying to be patient as he fiddles with the end of his fork. 

“Um. What?” Max asks eventually, cheek still pink. 

“I read an article,” Charles says, trying to be as unemotional as he can. If he gets emotional, he won’t get his point across. “About alphas in rut, and the changes you go through. It said some alphas get, like, bigger, and harder. Do you?” 

Max blinks, then scrubs his hand across his face. He puts his knife and fork down, then stares at a point over Charles’ shoulder as he says, “For some of my ruts, yes. I don’t know why not all of them.” 

Hm. 

He wonders whether he was bigger for Lando, then decides that if Max says yes, he’s going to feel unreasonably violent and jealous. It’s best if he doesn’t know. 

[ladysomething]

sooo.... what are the chances we celebrate charles' awesome drive w a wygig snippet? 😅😅

trying to find a snippet with minimal spoilers was so fucking hard!!!!

this is what I've come up with 😭😭

On the final of only three pages, there is a list of additional clauses; only one is in Fred’s handwriting, while the rest are in Max’s, with both their signatures next to each one. 

In Fred’s writing, it says: You (the buyer) are not able to compel, manipulate, or in any way coerce or convince The Omega to share confidential information regarding Scuderia Ferrari. 

Max has clearly agreed to it, M. Verstappen signed beside it. Charles runs his thumb over it, lips sucked between his teeth. He remembers, immediately after the auction, Giulia telling him that his new owner and Fred were negotiating additional clauses. 

Considering the winner is on the grid, she’d said. 

He was so hopeful that it was Pierre. That despite the huge price he’d sold for, Pierre had somehow made it work. 

Obviously, he’d been wrong to have faith Pierre would understand the complexity. He can’t really blame him, though, considering Charles had been so unable to grasp the seriousness of the situation himself. Until Max had walked into that room, Charles had really thought himself still so in control. 

God, what a naive fool he was. 

If Max hadn’t been there . . . 

“When he realised it was me, he tried to write in a clause about any children we might have.”

[ladysomething]

I love this story so much! I hope you are feeling alright : )

Would we be able to get another snippet by any chance please ?

thanks darling!

here have this snippet, hot off the press because I think it's hilarious:

“Your father,” she starts slowly, finger dragging around the base of her flute. “He was . . . he was kind, and gentle. But even he was still an alpha.” 

Yes, Charles is very aware of that. Maybe Maman is aware in a different way, but Papa and Charles had been a pack. Maman will never understand that. 

“I just want to make sure that you’re being safe,” she says, lowering her voice completely so that Enzo and Arthur can’t overhear. 

“Safe?” Charles repeats dumbly, brows raising in confusion.

“With sex.” 

Charles’ mouth drops open. “Maman,” he whispers furiously, cheeks blazing red. “Yes, that’s—I take contraceptives, of course—” 

Maman shakes her head quickly. “No, not that,” she says. Then pauses, add, “Well, also that. I’m glad to hear it. But I meant your physical safety, Charlito.” 

Charles tilts his head, brows furrowed together. He’s not quite sure he understands what she means. 

“Alphas can be . . . intense,” she says, stilted. Charles’ mind goes blank with shock as he realises what she’s getting at. “He’s not hurting you?” 

“Maman,” he hisses, cheeks burning, horrified at the conversation she’s trying to have. “Oh my God. Please don’t.” 

“I know how they can be,” she insists. Charles is completely mortified and kind of wishes he could throw himself off the balcony. “We took precautions so that—” 

“Maman, please,” he pleads, covering his face with his hands to spare himself.

[ladysomething]

bestie i have to sit on a bus for the next 14 hours so if we get a snippet at any moment during this whole trip just now you'll be saving me from dying of boredom

I hope I didn't miss the 14 hour window!!

also 14 hours on a bus sounds terrible. good luck 🙏

When he goes upstairs for breakfast, Max is scraping scrambled eggs out of a pan and onto some wholemeal toast for them, sweet potato steaming on the plate. Max’s plate is almost double the size of the portion he’d usually serve himself, and of the portion he’s served Charles. He’s also got a thin, long sleeved shirt on, even though it’s already quite warm. 

He must be cold, Charles realises. 

“Morning,” Charles greets, going to the fridge to get some orange juice out for them both. 

“Goedemorgen,” he mumbles, eyes half open. 

Charles switches Max’s orange juice for a Red Bull, even though he personally thinks it’s ridiculous to drink them at all, let alone so early. But he’s learnt, over their many shared breakfasts, that Max doesn’t drink coffee, and he clearly needs the caffeine this morning. 

Max is still not back in Charles’ Dreyma Ver-öld, yet. Charles hasn’t seen him in there since—well, since their argument. Fight. The confession. 

Whatever Max’s own Dream World looks like, it’s clearly not helping him get particularly restful sleep. 

“Let’s sit outside,” Charles suggests, trying to hold two drinks and cutlery in his hands. “In the sun.” 

Max looks up to the glass doors, squinting at the sun already coming through. “Too bright.” 

“You’re not a vampire,” Charles says, leading the way. 

He encounters a small problem when he gets to the door and is unable to open it up because his hands are full, but Max comes to his rescue by balancing one of the plates on the arm of the lounge and unlocking and sliding open the door. 

Max doesn’t complain again, even when Charles steals the only chair at the outdoor table that’s in the shade. But when he sits, then tips his head up to be bathed in the sunlight, seeking the warmth on his cold skin like he’s a sunflower. 

Charles hides his smile around his juice, pleased. 

As they eat quietly, Max relaxes more and more, until he’s even pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. Charles is glad he’s feeling warmer.

[ladysomething]

Can we have another snippet from the next chapter ? I need some nice lestappen moments 😭

lucky you said nice, because I would've made it angsty otherwise 😊

Max offers to stay about a thousand times, even when Kelly and Sophie interject and tell him he’s not allowed to stay. Charles tells him he’s being stupid, then kisses him goodbye. 

“He’s acting like he’s going off to war,” Sophie says loudly, probably to make sure Max hears her. 

Charles laughs, but he’s secretly just as anxious as Max. 

They don’t often separate. Charles can only think of two occasions since the auction when Max has been further than two buildings away, so him going off into town with Jean-Luc and Aleksy makes him feel nervous. He’s sure Max can feel it, from the way he’s glancing back at his shoulder at him. 

Max had tried to use the excuse of being recognised as a reason not to go, but Jean-Luc and Aleksy had only laughed at him. 

“It’s really not that kind of place,” Jean-Luc had said, clapping Max on the shoulder. 

So now Charles is standing on the balcony, waving them off as Max drives the rental car down the long, winding driveway. He misses him already.

[ladysomething]

Snippet ?!??!

aww I've missed snippet Wednesday!! so glad to be back on the regular schedule!

Jean-Luc takes Penelope from Kelly, then settles her into the stroller while Kelly grabs Max’s bicep to lead him out. Max glances back at Charles for a moment, so he gives him a reassuring smile but lingers while Jean-Luc finishes. 

The front door swings shut, and Jean-Luc’s shoulder slump as heaves a big sigh. 

“Everything alright?” Charles asks. 

Jean-Luc flinches, spinning on the spot, hand instinctively going to his hip. He relaxes when he sees it's just Charles, then pastes on a very fake smile.

“Oh, Charles,” Jean-Luc says, clearly trying to pretend that he didn’t just sigh very loudly. “Sorry, I—I thought that you went with Max and Kelly.” 

Charles shrugs. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

Jean-Luc tenses again, smile dipping, but then he puts it back on. “Oh, okay. Lead the way.” 

They’re quiet as they leave, Charles holding the door open so Jean-Luc can push the stroller through, and then Charles helps him lift it down the three stairs from the verandah to the path. The other four are already headed across the clearing towards the forest, which seems a little odd but Charles follows them anyway. 

Before Charles can even think about how to start this conversation, Jean-Luc says, “Charles, I—I know it’s not worth much, but I’m so—I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left.” 

He looks like he’s aged ten years in the last week, probably not helped by the flu he’s still recovering from, but Charles doesn’t want him to feel guilty. 

“I think—I think that he had been planning this for a long time,” Charles says slowly, staring at the grass as they walk towards the trees. “He would’ve found another way for this to happen. He was just looking for an opportunity.” 

“But it’s my job to make sure there isn’t opportunity. And I should’ve known not to trust those Ferrari guys—Max said they left, and I wasn’t even surprised.” 

Charles purses his lips, absently rubbing at one of his wrists. “I was going to leave the hospitality and walk to Red Bull. On my own. I think—if I had just stayed. Maybe I could’ve hid, long enough for Max to be finished. Or if I had realised sooner that he was—there with me. Maybe if I hadn’t been so stubborn about staying around for Max at all. He told me to go home after the race, and I didn’t.” 

“Charles—” 

“And Max has been trying to tell me for so long that this might happen,” Charles continues, and he knows he sounds slightly hysterical, but all his feelings are bubbling up and spilling over and he can’t keep it together. “And after Fred—you know, I thought, that I would just have to live with whatever happened. With Fred, with whoever else tried something, because I knew that that was a possibility. And I told Max that I didn’t want to just live my life scared that something would happen. But now I think—I could’ve stopped this. This is my fault. I should’ve—there are so many things I should’ve done differently—” 

“Charles, no,” Jean-Luc says firmly. He stops in the middle of the track, hesitating to reach out, and then settling his hand against Charles’ bicep. Charles has always thought it so funny, that a man as big and scary as Jean-Luc is also one of the gentlest, kindest people he knows. “Alphas like him, men like him . . . They do things like this just because they can. Because they think they’re owed something. Nothing you do or say can change their minds about that, but that doesn’t make this your fault.” 

[ladysomething]

Hiii hope ur doing alright x

I can't wait for the update!!!

Could we get another snippet by any chance ? Pleasee

Maybe one of lestappen if possible : )

ofc, because you've all been so patient!

this will be the last one before the next chapter 😊

Max is quickly distracted by his kebab, and Charles wonders if Max thinks he’s hiding his little smile as he eats. He’s really, really not. It makes Charles feel a little strange, some kind of odd mix between satisfied and terrified, to know that he’s made Max . . . happy. 

Charles steals a few more fries, and then some more, and finishes his own meal slowly, trying to shove away the weird bubbling feeling in his stomach. 

“Ice cream?” Max asks hopefully, when they’re collecting their rubbish. 

“Gelato,” Charles corrects. He’s very full, but he’s happy to make room for gelato. 

He knows a place for that, too, but Max actually knows this one. 

The service staff are delighted they’re there—Charles doesn’t recognise either of them, despite the fact he’s been coming here since he was a child. They leave him and Max alone, though give them both suspiciously large servings compared to Aleksy’s. 

They both get vanilla, and walk with it slowly towards the boutique. The Mediterranean is glinting in the background, as it does everywhere in Monaco, and Charles feels genuinely happy to be out. This is exactly what he needed. 

When Max’s defences are down as he lifts his cone to his mouth, Charles can’t help but reach out and smack the bottom of his fist; the top of the gelato smears over his lips and chin, and Max stares at Charles, shocked, as the gelato drips off his chin. He laughs at the ridiculous sight he makes, white ring around his lips, eyes wide in surprise. 

Charles’ laughter dies as he can’t seem to take his eyes off Max’s mouth as he swipes his tongue over his top lip, then sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. His tummy feels a little warm as he finally drags his gaze away when Max takes the serviette wrapped around his cone and wipes it over his chin. 

“I should’ve known you’d be a menace,” Max grumbles, balling the dirty serviette up.

[ladysomething]

Snippet tonite 👀

Snippet tonight queen??

Snippet tonite 👀

snippet time!!

happy wygig Wednesday everyone ❤️

have a little bit of drama for this one ... 😏

“Bonjour,” Charles greets softly, trying to be helpful by starting to unpack his selections from the basket. In French, he continues, “How are you?” 

Slowly, not taking his eyes off Charles, the man puts his book down on the counter, sliding off his stool. 

“Omega,” he says, in thick, accented English. Charles pauses, taken aback by his unwelcoming tone. “Marked.”

Charles reaches up to the claiming bite on clear display, covering it with his palm. He hasn’t felt conscious of it all of summer break, but now, with the man’s disinterested eyes clearly stuck on his throat, he feels ridiculously exposed. 

“I just want to buy these, please,” Charles says in English as well, trying to give the man a charming smile, but he feels unbalanced. 

He’s never—this is the first time he’s ever been out in public, trying to buy something, since he was outed. Since he was claimed. Charles is just misunderstanding the situation right now. Nothing weird is happening, he just feels . . . vulnerable. 

And this is a store for omega’s, for God’s sake. He knows the laws are different for marked and unmarked omegas, but surely he’s not going to . . . 

“Hm,” the man grumbles. He makes no move to start to check out the items Charles has picked. “I need to see your identification.” 

Charles flinches back, shocked. “Why?” he demands. “They’re blankets.” 

“This is three thousand euros,” he says firmly, expression taking on a sharp edge. “How are you going to pay?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Charles scoffs, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He’s a fucking Formula One driver, the most recognisable in Monaco, and this guy thinks he can’t afford some—ridiciously overpriced—blankets? 

He throws his black card carelessly on the counter, lips pursed in agitation. 

“Identification,” the man repeats.