vrstaplec
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Charles Leclerc joins Red Bull. He does not come quietly.
Let them build churches out of stolen glances.
or-"We'd be idiots not to at least ask. Please, don't...Don't get offended."
Charles tilts his head, watching her. "Ask."
"Lestappen.".
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- English
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Bookmarked by vrstaplec
12 Oct 2025
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“You lost your left eye and your right is blinded by revenge.”
Two years may have passed since that fateful attack, but Charles’ vision has never been clearer. He leaves the buttons of his uniform jacket’s high collar open and loops the red scarf around his neck, letting the ends hang free. Goggles complete the last piece of his armor as he settles soft leather over the scarred remains of his left eye and lifts the eyepiece to expose his right.
“Don’t let your story be one of bitter revenge, Charles. That’s not the boy that Jules loved."
It hardly matters now, though. All that matters now is the mission with Captain Sainz, Jr. to hunt down the bastard smuggler who took everything from him.
The man known only as the Dutch Lion.
Bookmarked by vrstaplec
11 Oct 2025
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P1 in Your Heart: A Lestappen Post F1 Romance [Max Verstappen | Charles Leclerc] by theealonegirl
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF, BL - Fandom, Lestappen - Fandom
30 Sep 2025
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This fic is Set in 2030
Max Verstappen never expected to spend retirement surrounded by glitter glue, pancake disasters, and a five-year-old who thinks "overtaking" applies to bedtime. But here he is an eight-time world champion turned grumpy dad haunting the karting tracks of his youth, wearing a hoodie of nostalgia. He's not here for closure. He's here because his daughter likes speed and because standing on the trackside hurts a little less than staying home alone with his regrets.
Charles Leclerc didn't dream of coaching kindergarteners but a crash stole his career, and this karting track the fumes, the flags, the occasional crying parent is all he's got left. He smiles like it doesn't ache and teaches like he doesn't miss the rush. It's not the future he imagined, but it's something.
They weren't best friends. Rivals? Sure. Occasional podium eye contact? Absolutely. But nothing ever happened at least, not when it mattered. Now they're thirty-three, washed in nostalgia and worn down by everything unsaid.
Maybe love doesn't roar at 200mph.
Maybe, this time, it tiptoes in through the kitchen door.Bookmarked by vrstaplec
11 Oct 2025
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“Come to the races” Max states, smiling in a troublemaker sort of way, like he has some devious plan in mind. Its childish, and it takes Charles completely off guard.
Fuck.
Charles freezes and Max smiles, happy with the reaction he is seeing. Something about getting under Charles’ skin or taking him by surprise just does it for him, Charles knows it. Any opportunity Max gets to read the man in front of him is met with deep satisfaction… and that makes Charles feel hot under the collar. Charles collects his thoughts and slowly smirks, leaning back on his desk as he pushes the sleeves up on his dress shirt.
“Careful Max, I am starting to think you’re beginning to enjoy therapy”
OR: Charles Leclerc, new psychologist recruited for Red Bull Racing, meets his match. Something that his training could have never prepared him for… A gorgeous, traumatised man with daddy issues, raging perfectionism, an intense gaze and a dirty mouth.
Bookmarked by vrstaplec
11 Oct 2025
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Charles Leclerc is twenty-four, well-mannered, and sold into marriage like a piece of real estate while Max Verstappen is twenty-seven, a Dutch business heir with more money than mercy. Their union is sealed over champagne flutes and poker chips, polished smiles for Monaco society. Behind closed doors, it’s lace and battles, punishment and rebellion, champagne spilled across bare chests and whispered pleas in the dark.
Charles begins as property, resisting with wit and silk while Max begins as mogul, demanding control. They collide in battles of flesh and will until they both kneel.
Charles in love, Max in devotion.
Bookmarked by vrstaplec
11 Oct 2025