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#charles leclerc brainrot

cutielando · 6 months

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comfort ~ charles leclerc

Summary: Race after race after race where his team failed him, Charles only needs the comfort of your touch to feel better.

Words: 1.0k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Ferrari had done it again.

Yet another failed strategy, yet another shitty race.

You couldn't even keep count of these anymore. Weekend after weekend, race after race, everything seemed to be going against your boyfriend.

From failed hydraulics, to bad-times pit stops, to bad strategies, to crashes. You name it, Ferrari did it. You knew how much the team mattered to Charles, but it was getting out of hand and ridiculous.

When it was time for the Brazilian Grand Prix, you had hoped that it would be different this time. That maybe, just maybe, the team wouldn't mess this one up.

But of course, you had been wrong once again.

The hydraulics had failed, leaving your boyfriend out of the race in the Formation Lap.

"Why am I so unlucky?" your heart broke when you heard the broken voice of your boyfriend on the radio.

You could feel, even from just hearing his voice, how hurt and disappointed he was that he found himself, once again, out of the race before he could prove himself.

You waited impatiently for him to get back to the Ferrari garage, knowing he was going to be in a foul mood and you would have to figure out a way to cheer him up and make him feel better about himself and the situation.

Seeing his car being hauled towards the garage and him slowly stomping after it made your heart hurt for him.

The moment he looked up and noticed you waiting for him there, he sped up and crashed into your arms, letting his helmet fall to the ground.

"You're okay, baby. I'm here, it's okay" you whispered in his ear, running your hand through his hair softly.

"Let's go" he mumbled in your ear before he pulled away, took your hand and started leading you to his driver's room.

You followed him in silence, knowing it was best to let him come to you and talk whenever he was ready. Pushing him did nothing but worsen his current state.

After you had made it to his room, he locked the door behind you before collapsing on his couch with his face buried in the pillow, grunting.

You slowly walked up to him and sat down on the edge of the couch, your hands slowly starting to massage his back and his shoulder.

He moaned at the feeling, his hand finding your knee and gently rubbing his hand over it.

As you worked on his back and shoulders, you could feel the tense knots slowly dissipate, his muscled finally starting to relax after hours and hours of soliciting.

"How are you feeling?" you had asked him after several minutes of silence, your hands now only dragging your nails up and down his back like you knew he liked.

He sighed, leaning into your touch.

"Like shit" he mumbled, his thick Monegasque accent rippling through.

"I know, baby" you comforted him, continuing to run your hands up and down his back.

"I just don't understand why this keeps happening" he began, turning around on his side so he was facing you. "Every single race, something has to go wrong for me, but never for Carlos. It's always be that's out, always me who has car problems, always me who crashes, me every single time. I'm starting to think they're doing it on purpose" your heart broke hearing him talk like this about the team he had dreamt of being a part of since he was a little child.

"Hey, hey, don't think like that. I know it's incredibly frustrating, and you've had a tough year, but that doesn't mean that things aren't going to get better. You just need to have faith in yourself and in the team" you tried to comfort him, despite knowing that no words could make him feel better about the situation.

He nodded but didn't say anything, just closing his eyes in hopes to escape the world and everything around him.

♡♡♡♡♡

You had hoped it would be different now. The car was looking good, he was flying in qualifying, securing his spot in pole, everything seemed to be going perfectly.

Until it didn't.

Chaos in the garage preparing for a pit stop and a bad strategic decision later, Charles found himself out of the race, once again.

You couldn't watch the screen where your boyfriend was retiring his car, feeling furious beyond words.

The amount of sweat, tears and pain that Charles had poured into the team, the loyalty he had for Ferrari even when everything proved against the team, and still they failed him every time he needed them.

You stormed out of the garage, making your way to Charles' room where you knew he would appear as soon as he got out of the car.

In times like this, you knew the last thing he wanted was to linger in the garage with his team, angry as he was, not wanting to cause a scene where everyone could see and hear.

True to your word, not even 10 minutes had passed by until the door opened and in came Charles, looking sadder than you had ever seen him.

When his eyes met yours, he couldn't hold in the tears that started running down his cheeks. You pouted and quickly got up, enveloping him in your arms and squeezing him tightly.

Charles hugged you back just as tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting out sobs that chipped away little bits of your heart at a time.

You stayed like that for a good 10 minutes, letting him get everything out of his system while kissing every inch of his body that you could reach and whispering sweet reassurances in his ear.

Once he started calming down and his tears were no longer flowing down his cheeks, he slowly lifted his head from your neck, his beautiful eyes now swollen and red.

"Oh, my sweet love" you whispered, giving him a gentle smile before pecking his lips and cradling his face in your hands.

"I'm sick of this" he said, his voice hoarse and croaky.

"I know, I know" you nodded and brought him in for another hug, making sure he could feel your love and support in his time of need.

Despite being once again disappointed by Ferrari, in that moment, Charles couldn't help but smile a little, knowing that despite everything, he had you by his side.

And you were all he needed.

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happyfirstpri · 2 months

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Nothing more homo than having parallel or mirroring nicknames with your rival since childhood

Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. Also known as:

the phoenix and the dragon

the sun of maranello and the rain of milton keynes

il predestinato (the predestined) and the inevitable

eterni rivali (eternal rivals)

Eterni rivali is so sexy, like imagine signing off letters with that?

“Il tuo Eterno Rivale,

[insert name]”

HOT. SEXY. I’D KISS YOU ON THE LIPS.

#eterni rivali sounds like smthng you’d use to sign off a letter it’s so cool 😭#they give me so much brainrot #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #formula 1 #f1 #mv1 #mv33 #cl16

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thatnimrodmusician · 3 months

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just some lestappen brainrot for you

max and charles yelling at each other from a yacht and the wharf + charles smacking himself in the head as soon as their interaction was over

the really awkward hug (you cant even call that a hug)

unfollowing each other on instagram

using lando as a messenger ("you should show charles" - please max just send it to him)

waving at each other after a race (bonus points for max spinning like 2 seconds later)

the vegas interview

"charlie i saved you some space!"

"is he pretty?" "i dont know!"

"max did you win padel?" '...not really"

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen brainrot #lestappen #cl16 #mv33

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valyrfia · 2 months

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“omg lestappen barely like each other. you make so much up for your RPF ship. you’re ruining the sport!”

meanwhile, max verstappen when asked to give his podium for the race tomorrow (charles is starting in p6):

#the comically large sigh I let out when I saw this #we don’t do anything babes they do it themselves #max has the lecfosi brainrot like the rest of us I fear #maxifesting #lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #chinese gp 2024

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struggling-with-drivers · 4 months

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More brainrot thoughts, blame and thank @pucksandpower

Au where Charles is a gold digger and Max is the f1 driver Charles wants.

Okay okay okay so, can you really blame Charles, like can you really blame Charles?

His mom had been arm candy to his dad, that much was by no means a secret. It might have influenced his way of looking at life, more than anyone realised. But it's not like he wasn't influenced by anything else he grew up with.

The opulence that surrounded him, the over indulgences lurking in every corner, the wealth that absolutely did not whisper. Especially not during those few weeks the entire country breathes for Formula racing.

Charles was raised in luxurity, and it was everything he had ever known. The words your face is all you're worth, had been intrgrained into his mind and body since he was a child. He had showed no really skill in any of his subjects, neither any of the 100s of sports his Maman had rotated him through. He was hopeless at seemingly every single one of them, it did however make him a very interesting person, and if there was one thing Charles Leclerc could.

It was talk.

Charles was a great conversationalist, and an even bigger flirt. Cheeky in just the right way, and seemingly obliviously innocent in every other. Except he knew what he was doing, he knew he was a tease, especially when he ran his hand over someone's chest and practically purred into their ear. About how good he could be.

Then he would pull back, bat his eyelashes. Hook, line and sinker. Charles was have an amazing night, and then be showered in gifts and hush money. With an invitation of next time tucked away in his back pocket.

Pierre had called him a practically unsafe escort once, Charles had corrected him, he was in fact being very safe.

Then Pierre had brought along his Formula 1 colleagues, and can you really blame Charles?

Max had seemed so sweet, so forbidden in the crowd of Eden. Charles wanted to sink his teeth into Max, if not for the hush money, but for the way those eyes would look at him when he begged for more.

Then Max had rejected Charles, even after he had touched his chest, even after he had purred in his ear. Max had even resisted the way Charles battered his eyelashes at him.

What Max hadn't been strong enough to do, was look away. His eyes had been fixed on Charles's open shirt since Pierre had introduced Charles to the other. His gaze locked to the way that translucent shirt had a cut so deep, so when Charles bend over, Max could see his belly button. Not that he needed the gap, the shirt itself was seethrough enough on it's own.

Charles had guided Max's hand to his side, and Max had excused himself for a drink.

Abandoning a full drink on the table.

He had needed air.

Max didn't see Charles again for a month, and he should have known better, in fact he should have expected the beautiful man to show back up in his life. Because then there Charles was. Right at the Monaco GP, walking down the Paddock, his arm linked with someone else, dressed in all red, supporting Ferrari.

Max should have brushed it off and moved along, so why couldn't he?

Why was the only thing he could think about as he accepted the trophy and got doused in champagne, that a certain beautiful man clad in Red would look better in Blue?

Pierre - who Max didn't think he had talked to more than few times in the last year - had clasped his shoulder, warned him not to be stupid. Then that was it, and Max had seen him move away, hug Charles, and pepper a few kisses on his cheeks, before Charles had nuzzled his way back under the arm of some guy Max didn't know. Not that he cared.

But Charles had looked at Max, even as the Monégasque kissed the cheek of his lover? Keeping the eyecontact, as though he had forced Max to watch, a way to taunt this could be you. He needed to get his shit together, they had met once, and seen each other twice.

Then came the victory celebrations, and Max didn't know how Charles had ended up on his lap, there was plently of spaces left in the booth, but he had picked Max's lap as his preferred seat. Except, Charles hadn't looked at Max not even once. Even he had kissed Pierre hello, right there, on Max's lap.

His eyes had been glued to Charles.

Who did not even look at him once, and Max - fully sober - was feeling so fucking intoxicated. Over this guy, a stranger, a something. Something dangerous, something that reeked of scandals.

When Charles had gotten up, all eyes turned in his direction as he sauntered away. Max knew, for he had looked as well.

Monaco GP was over, and Max could relax, at least that's what he told himself. The world had other plans for him, how had Max never realised how small Monaco really was. That Damned beauty seemed to show up everywhere, at the coffee shop, when he was on a run, even at the paddle club.

Had Charles always been around?

Except, each time he saw the Monégasque a longing feeling spread through his chest, it was followed by the reminder, Charles was always looking at someone else. Max doesn't think he saw the same person twice with an arm around Charles.

Max wondered briefly, in a moment of weakness, and post nut clarity, would the price be worth the feeling of his hands on Charles waist. Then he had chased the thought away, with the unnessecary paperwork, and NDA's and besides. Pierre had said to not be stupid. Pierre - who probably cheered every time Max made a slight mistake - had warned him.

Charles knew his effect on others, he was fully aware of each set of eyes that followed him. Nothing thrilled him more than walking through the street, being someone's accessory, and everyone appreciating him. Charles had quickly found himself enjoying a specific pair of eyes, they belonged to a certain Dutchman. Someone Charles would never had imaged being able to get with a few years ago. But that had been when Charles was younger, and now, he had honed his skills well enough.

He knew that it was only about time before Max Verstappen would break.

Max will sometimes see Charles hanging around the paddock during the European stint of races. He had convinced himself that he had become immune to the magnetic pull of the charming Monegasque. But it was quite a shock when - after having made the long journey to Suzuka - he sees the familiar perfectly messy hair.

More somber than he had ever seen Charles before. The beauty had traded in his typical Ferrari red for AlphaTauri white and navy, and a guest pass declaring him “Guest of Pierre Gasly.” Then he had joined Pierre on a track walk.

Max had watched as Pierre and his trainer continued making their way around the Suzuka Circuit even as Charles wandered towards the run-off area on the outside of the Dunlop Curve. And then Max watched as the normally composed and aloof man fell to his knees.

Max looked around. No one else seemed surprised to see the Monegasque’s body shaking as he sobbed on the gravel. Max had spotted Daniel across the track with his own trainer and nudged his way over to the Australian.

“What’s up with him?”

"Charles Leclerc?" Daniel questioned, "You don't know? He's Jules- was Jules god son."

"Oh," Is all Max said, he didn't know what else he should have said.

And Max felt so stupid, how hadn't he made the connection before?

No wonder no one else had seemed surprised, that Charles was constantly hanging around the paddock, wearing Red when his friend was in white and blue.

No wonder that in addition to being especially close with Pierre, the older drivers seem to have a bit of a soft spot for him. He probably should have realised there was more going on after hearing someone mention Pierre and Charles grew up together.

They'd all seen that the sport can take and take and take - the sobbing man of front of him was proof enough of that.

Max had barely realised, he was standing in front Charles before the words. "It sucks." Had rushed out of his mouth, and god, the other man snorts. Too taken aback with what Max just said, to have realised he stopped crying.

He looked up at Max, and a brief thought barrels through his mind. Fuck Charles looks good on his knees. But then Max reminded himself that that was probably pretty fucking inapproiate. Instead he reached a hand out, a sort of apology, but definitely an attempt to help to other to forget what Max had just said.

"Thank you." Charles smiled at him, the tears were still fresh on his chins, but Max could breathe a bit lighter when his hand clasped with Charles. He rest his other hand on Charle's back, as he wobbled for a few moments. Before Max realised where they were, retracting his hand to his side, far too fast, far too uncomfortable.

"Thank you." Charles repeated, letting go of Max's other hand. Max made an attempt to not show the disappointment on his face, the way the Monegasque smiled at him, told him he had failed. And Max didn't mind loosing that much when Charles looked at him like that.

With a few weeks in the back mirror, and some alcohol in their bodies. Charles had found himself with Max in the driver's penthouse apartment.

Max's lips were moving against his own, but then Max spoke, and Charles just wanted him to shut up. That's why he kissed him to begin with.

"What's your price?"

Charles froze for a moment, before returning to running his fingers over Max's sides.

"Your guilt will tell you tomorrow." He murmured back against Max's lips, so Max was aware of how Charles worked, and for some reason, it hurt.

Charles had never been paid directly, never a predetermined amount, it was all in hush money and gifts, places he had been taken and shown off, the clothes on his body, the drinks in his hands, the jewellery around his neck and fingers. Pierre had once called him a prisoner in golden chains, and Charles had told him he was full of shit.

But then Max cooked him breakfast.

This was not part of the deal, this was not part of anything. This was not how this was supposed to go. Max was supposed to tell him it was a mistake, and pay off Charles to keep quiet. Not cook him breakfast.

"Why- why are you-" His voice failed him, the Monégasque known for his smooth tongue, and tempting words, cannot speak. His greatest weapon had been lowered by a man in a silly apron.

"I don't regret anything."

Charles had been gifted jewels by princes and dukes and lords. He had been gifted Ferraris and Lamborghinis and Bugattis by billionaires. He had even been gifted a yacht by a sheikh once (long story). But this was the first time that he had been made to feel human after. That someone had gifted him the feeling of being wanted for more than his body. And now he feels like crying at the sight of slightly charred toast and scrambled eggs.

Max seemed to panic at the distress Charles was feeling. Unable to understand what was going on, not that Charles blamed him at all.

"I'm so sorry," Max had rushed out an apology at the first sight of potential tears, "are you vegan? Celiac? Fuck I should have asked, I have celery! Do you want celery?"

Charles had laughed at that, tears in his eyes at the sight of the formula 1 world champion reduced to panic because someone like Charles might not like his breakfast.

"I fucking hate celery," Charles had told Max, feeling a lot better, despite the Dutchman's confusion and seemingly oblivion to all the feelings that had been cruising through Charles.

Then one of Max's cats had jumped on the counter and tried to kidnap Charles's toast, and Max had set chase after the cat, and Charles had found himself thinking.

I could get used to this.

#lestappen #max verstappen #Charles leclerc #f1 #Fic #Delia brainrots

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maxfurshtappanleclair · 24 days

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The biggest upset in life would be Max Verstappen never using the pet names 'Schatje' or 'Schat' or Charles Leclerc not using the pet names 'Cheri' or 'Mon Coeur' in their romantic relationships, straight or queer.

#max verstappen #charles leclerc #ao3 #You can clearly tell that I have AO3 brainrot #But seriously #Although Max seems like a 'babe' person #And Charles a 'Amor' person #God I'm embarrassing #lestappen #imola gp 2024

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fellow-meme-lover · 12 days

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Updated lockscreen. These silly little guys are everything to me…

#I also love my widgets sm #the f1 brainrot is so real #carlos sainz #cs55 #charles leclerc #cl16 #charlos #ferrari #scuderia ferrari #c2

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scrollonso · 22 days

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wait so if charles adopted oscar but oscar is nandos youngest mcnugget and charles is dating the oldest mcnugget (carlos) then oscar is his brother-in-law-adopted-son?

#this is so brainrot #dont show this to a victorian child #referencing crazy in love and pookie au #f1 #formula 1 #lance stroll #fernando alonso #oscar piastri #carlos sainz #charles leclerc

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herinded · 6 months

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RAHHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

Logan Sergeant has been resigned for the 2024 season !!! i can finally live happy again

#carlos sainz #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #formula 1 #formula one #george russell #i have so much brainrot over this #lando norris #max verstappen #logan sargeant #hes gonna race again #wtf is a kilometer

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blueberry-obsessed · 1 month

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Inspired by this post by @blueballsracing, here's my collection of Charles as random bunnies from the internet 🩶

#I used to have a whole folder #I dont know where it went ☹️#but yeah #I'm brainrotting instead of actually writing if you couldnt tell #charles leclerc #CL16 #f1

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wisteriagoesvroom · 2 months

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hello 😁 was wondering if u had any snippets u would like to share on this lovely day 🤲

lovely anon thank you for asking! feels like i’ve posted a lot of snippets lately but you made me go dig around, so here’s a lestappen one:

————

Charles shifts on his side of the bed and props himself up on his elbow. He looks excited. Max knows this is not always a good sign.

“I saw this thing on Twitter—” Charles says.

“You are on there too much.”

“I know, but let a celibate man have his indulgence, oui?”

“Celibate.” Max mutters, knowing what they do together is nothing of the sort.

“We are basically monks now. Besides the sex, obviously. And anyway, you are distracting me from the point. It is an exercise. Getting to know each other better, this type of thing.”

“Okay. And?”

“It is a list of questions to ask each other. But for now I only want to ask one.”

“Zeg eens.”

Charles looks very serious suddenly. Eyes big like dinner plates. Max quite likes when Charles is like this. Like a dog with a bone. He would make a good hunting dog, Max thinks. But a friendly one. One that would run the pack down and exhaust himself until the thing gets done. The Scuderia is his herd, in a way. Always an errant sheep to be chased, but he knows Charles likes his purpose, likes doing his job, even if the WDC continues to elude him. Max knows, because he has been there before too, chasing and chasing until his dream was fulfilled. That was before he knew there was another dream he wanted, close to his grasp. A dream he now has in his hands, lucid and real and touchable in his own bed. Whether it is more complicated because Max is the obstacle to Charles’s WDC is a problem for another time.

Charles leans in, engulfing the view in front of Max. “You must answer this honestly, yes?”

“Sure.”

“What are you afraid of?”

————

#lestappen #3316 #charles leclerc #max verstappen #mv33 #cl16 #wiz.wips #never forget my roots (deep brainrot for lestappen)#maybe it’s been too long tho idk if this syntax is sufficiently charles-like #but screw it we ball

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