paper_gangsta
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- Formula 1 RPF (3)
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Summary
It’s just a fact. A simple universal truth that nobody can do anything about.
In every other variation, where Max exists, there is also Charles. In every other variation, they fall in love. Sometimes, they break up, but eventually they stick together, bonded and inseparable. That seems to be the pattern observed so far.
Like they were fucking made for each other. Like there is an invisible string connecting them, and it pulls, and pulls, and pulls towards, until they crush into each other and become a whole.
Lies, lies, lies.
In this variation, there are no strings and no Charles. But there is science, a real one.
OR: max and charles meet in every universe. except the one, where it matters the most.
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He can never figure Charles out—his face is a white marble, delicate and unreadable. It gives off nothing. No hints at all. Max, on the other hand, is an open book.
It was not a fair game from the very beginning.
They started sleeping around after his first championship. What made it worse was that it wasn’t an angry outburst or a drunken mistake. They were both sober because it was Abu Dhabi. They were both incredibly stupid because it was fucking Abu Dhabi.
OR: charles never praises max's driving skills in public. max has absolutely no problem with it.
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He knew Max—Mad Max behind the wheel, not the real Max. Real Max was mythical, nonexistent, and unnecessary. Charles never intended to make it personal; the distance between them helped. There was no point in making him a human that he wasn’t.
Max was a soulless, distant figure.
An enemy for many. A hero for some. A threat to Charles.
OR: in the world of sun, sand, and oil, there is no place for anything other than survival. max and charles were never supposed to talk. yet, they do.
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Three years after Charles Leclerc ended things with a clause he never expected to be enforced, his doorbell rings.
The alpha standing outside is holding a delivery manifest and wearing the kind of smile that says he has been waiting for this loophole longer than Charles has been trying to forget it.
Some contracts are made to be broken. This one was made to be delivered.
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@twisted_theory:
Wait... does anyone else realize we never see Charles with a girlfriend? Like, no one’s ever confirmed?
@julesbexx:
i don’t care if he’s single or taken, that man is a work of art 🙌or,
a lestappen social media au where the internet collectively tries to figure out who the singer/songwriter/model charles leclerc is in love with -
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Summary
"I want to fight against you, but I'm fucking fighting against my own car,-" The side of Charles' fist slams into his chest. "-my own team-" His fist slams again, harder, makes sure it hurts, "-and I know they're all doing their best, so I should be the one doing better, I should be better, but- I- I just--"
Charles' voice splinters with seething rage and swears, rivulets of despair bleeding through spiderweb cracks. He can't breathe. Fingers curl into his shirt, nails trying to rip through fabric, and break skin.
Closing his eyes, Charles struggles against the merciless, shameful burn of tears. "I'm so sorry, Max."
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(Guilt haunts Charles for how he can't give Max his best in these races. And fear insists that Max won't have any reason to stay with him.)Series
- Part 1 of schatje. / mon cher .
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Summary
He took up a lot of her mind back then but it was still easier than whatever they had now.
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Charlie can't stop wondering "what if".
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Summary
Charles doesn’t believe in fate. He doesn’t believe in grand plans or cosmic alignments, in serendipity or the kind of chance that feels like destiny. But that was before the rain in Monaco, before the flickering lamplight.
Before Max.
Their first meeting was nothing.
But nothing became something, and something became everything. A crowded bookshop, a sunlit pier, the electric haze of a nightclub—each moment pulling them closer.
Max is ordinary in a way that shouldn’t stand out, and yet Charles can’t look away. There’s something about him—his quiet gravity, his half-smiles, the way he fits into every place he shouldn’t. Something that feels inevitable, predestined.
This isn’t a love story about falling. This is a story about what happens when the fall was always going to happen, when every step you take only leads you back to the same person, over and over.
Or: Charles doesn’t believe in destiny, but destiny doesn’t need him to.