#Lestappen as Team Principals has given me brain rot

[cupidskissx]

hi!! idk if u accept prompts but i love ur monaco malaise and- yeah

mastermind by taylor swift. but make it lestappen

Thank you for the love on Monaco Malaise, it truly mean so much to me! 🥰🤩

*Frantically listens to Mastermind for the first time, downloads lyrics and annotates*

I’ve never had an actual prompt before, 🥹 I’ve been afraid to put the call out, it’s such a lot of pressure and risky 🫣

That being said, I loved writing this! If anyone else has any prompts, please send them my way! I hope you enjoy this little AU, Anon ❤️

~~~

The first time Max saw Charles, he knew.

He wasn’t sure what he knew, but he knew it. Call it luck, lust, or destiny, or perhaps a combination of all three. Whatever it was, he felt it in his bones.

He’d heard whispers Ferrari were considering a new team boss — some hot shot who flew up the ranks at Maranello. However, Max’s two week, no-contact vacation with his mum and sister saw him miss the media storm after Leclerc’s appointment.

The summary of meeting minutes and critical updates that his Executive Assistant compiled upon his return only had him mentioned once, in a two sentence dot point:

Charles Leclerc to replace Frederic Vasseur as Team Principal of Scuderia Ferrari. Effective: 1 January 2028.

It was easily skimmed over in favour of actioning the mass of paperwork requiring his approval.

Maybe if he’d known how this man would shift all his focus and ambition in a matter of moments, he would have at least read his profile online. Or, perhaps issued a full investigation to learn everything there was to know about him — signing it off as: “getting to know your competition”.

Alas, he did neither, leaving the universe — in all her surreptitious glory — to place them in the right place at the right time.

*

The Bahrain briefing room was hot and stuffy. Max was half out of his jacket when the door opened. An unfamiliar figure squeezed in. He was flushed, his hair spiked up. He had a notebook under his arm, a pen perched behind his ear, and he was struggling to get his phone into the front pocket of his jeans. The meeting was yet to start, but he shot Stefano Domenicali an apologetic look.

The man, who appeared close to his age, secured his phone and scanned the room for an available seat. It was surprising, concerning even, the way Max’s peripheral vision reduced until all he could see was this flustered, handsome man in the doorway.

It was like one of those cliché moments in a rom-com, the lead actress walking in, hit by a spotlight, the only one in the room — Max couldn’t look away. The man’s gaze landed on Max and his lips twitched up in a small smile, enough to make Max’s heart stutter. Max forced himself out of his stupor, smiled back, and continued to take off his jacket.

Niels Wittich tried to squeeze passed the man, knocking into him, forcing him to move out of the way and make a seating decision. He weaved through the row in front of Max, and was considerate enough not to sit directly in front of him, choosing the next seat over. Max surveyed the room, every other Team Principal was there, so that could only mean one thing. He was Charles Leclerc.

Charles settled into his seat and checked the spiral spine of his notebook, he paused. He opened it to a fresh page then started to pat down his pockets. Coming up short, he checked the spine again. Max squeezed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing. Before Charles could frisk his pockets a second time, Max leant forward and tapped his shoulder.

Charles turned around, his furrowed brow smoothing out. Handsome wasn’t all-encompassing enough to describe him. He was ethereal, timeless beauty carved by an ancient, wise deity.

Max didn’t trust his voice so he gestured to his own ear. It took a moment, but Charles’ face split into an embarrassed grin, his dimples popping, and cheeks flushing. He plucked the pen from behind his ear.

“Merci, J’oub— oh, sorry, I just got off the phone with my brother...”

Max didn’t have the opportunity to tell him he understood French — he’d lived in Monaco for long enough — because Charles wiggled the pen and kept speaking, “Thanks, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

Charles looked down to clip his pen through the wire bound spine as Max said, “Now that would be tragic.”

He looked back in Max’s direction, his smile shy, his eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights, Max’s chest flooded with smug satisfaction and something else. Something that tingled. And because Charles wasn’t presumptuous, he leant over the back of his chair, offered Max his hand and said: “Charles Leclerc, I’ve taken over from Freddy.”

“Max Verstappen, TP for Red Bull,” he shook his hand, “Enchanté, and all that.”

Charles snorted a laugh, “And all that,” he repeated, his tone soft and warm.

“Welcome to another season gentlemen,” Stefano said from the front of the room.

They broke their lingering handshake, acknowledging that their conversation was over, their smiles faded, and Charles turned around to face the front of the room.

Max peaked over Charles’ shoulder every now and again, watching him write headings, sub headings and dot points in faint, chicken-scratch cursive.

When the presentation moved on to the compulsory, OH&S policies and procedures Charles started to doodle a small race car in the margin of the page.

It was that moment Max knew he was doomed. He had no choice but to wriggle his way into Charles life, or ruin his career trying.

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #prompt #I hope you like this Anon and you didn’t mind it being an AU #Lestappen as Team Principals has given me brain rot #destined for their paths to cross in every universe #I’m a mess over this AU idea #let me know if you want me to continue this #or send in headcanons / prompts for them in this AU #watch me abandon Monaco Malaise Part 2 for this world 🫣 #<< this is also why I don’t take prompts I try to avoid writing anything else so I don’t lose the spark and abandon my baby #but welp I think I’m addicted now #L's Little Things #Writing and Rambles