The Winner Takes It All – Masterlist

“I think the only way we can grow and get on in this world is to accept the fact we’re not perfect and live accordingly.”

— Ray Bradbury, The Illustrated Man

Okay kinda specific ask but Pierre and/or Charles wiping wet hair strands away from your face being all cute and giggly cus I’m in a sickly sweet era

Got you bestie

Pierre

You have been going on a swim, like either at the beach or you’ve been in the water where his yacht is anchored.

You get back on the boat after cooling down in the water and he’s ready to offer you a towel.

Which you gladly take, but as the wind blows, you shiver, your hands wrapped around the towel while your hair blows in your face and sticks to your cheeks.

Pierre laughs at the moment, his hands cupping your face to wipe them away.

You giggle, accepting the embrace of your boyfriend as he leans down to kiss you.

Charles

So why do I have this scenario in my head of him winning a rainy race in Spa and you’re there waiting for him at parc fermé?

It was pouring down, but not like 2021, so the drivers were able to race properly. And Charles had been dominating and after such a tough period you could only run out with the mechanics.

Waiting in the rain for him while being completely soaked.

Charles gets out of his car, running up to you as he sees you.

His gloved hands wiping the wet hair from your face before he leans his helmet against your forehead, smiling and laughing under his helmet with happiness.

The cameras capturing the sweet moment and it’s all over social media afterwards.

to live a lifetime with you | CL16

PAIRING: charles leclerc x reader

REQUESTED: [] yes [X] no

WORD COUNT: 7.8k

SYNOPSIS: after twenty-six years together, it only made sense that charles would want to live out the rest of his life with you by his side.

WARNINGS: mentions of death (jules + charles' father), mattia being a decent human being at the end (sorry its for plot only), probably so many sentences that make no sense, time skips galore, me writing about love without having ever experienced it, french translations

as always, don't be a ghost reader!

to say that you and charles where childhood sweethearts would be an understatement, really.

you and charles had known each other since the two of you were born basically, with your parents moving in next door to the leclercs not long after your birth. charles had only just started standing on his own two feet at seven months, while your own six-month-old self had discovered the art of scooting your bum around to get from one place to another. 

at the time, lorenzo was absolutely obsessed with all things relating to his baby brother, and when he saw the new neighbours walk into the empty house with a small baby girl nibbling on a cookie, he was ecstatic, running up to his mom and telling her that they could set up play dates for charles and you. honestly, if it wasn’t for lorenzo’s insistence, you were sure that you and charles would not have been where you were today.

it helped that your parents and charles’ parents became fast friends. growing up, your families did everything together. vacations, celebrations, holidays, anything and everything you could think of. the two of you grew up sharing everything, from toys to food, and everything in between. the only thing you hadn’t shared with one another was the fact that charles had a brother, and you did not.

when arthur was born, you had cried to your parents every day and night about wanting a baby sister. as a soon-to-be three-year-old, you had no idea that your parents were unable to have more children, receiving nothing but sad smiles when you continuously asked for another sibling.

nonetheless, you had quickly taken to arthur leclerc. and much like lorenzo had felt for charles, you and charles felt for arthur. instead of playing with charles, you were now focused on the new baby in pascale’s arms and how tiny he was. looking back, pascale would always reminisce how you and charles were horrible for her heart when arthur was a baby, always handing the small boy even smaller toys. arthur himself would always bring up the times the two of you tried to “kill” him as a baby, always finding it funny how you and charles defended yourselves.

you’d learned quite early on that charles was a strange kid. and rude, if your four-year-old self were to add. the two of you would always play together, and while you two shared all your toys with one another, charles drew the line at your barbies. 

on his fourth birthday, pascale and hervé had bought charles a remote control car, and he had instantly rushed off to go play with it, pulling you along. he had run over your barbie doll that day, after having fought with you about how it was his birthday and he didn’t want to play with girly dolls. a few days later, charles had ‘accidentally’ ripped ken’s head off of his body, leaving you in a mess of distressed sobs and tears. 

lorenzo could still remember the way you had knocked and entered his room, fat tears rolling down your chubby cheeks as you presented the headless figurine to him and jules who had been hanging out with the eldest leclerc. you had begged either of them to fix it, and while jules took the doll from your hands, lorenzo went off to find his younger brother and scold him for ruining your toys. instead of in his room, lorenzo found charles leaning over arthur’s crib, explaining to the youngest how cars were much cooler than your barbies. arthur, of course, had no idea what his brother had been telling him, too focused on figuring out how he could eat the plastic car in his hand.

since then, however, charles had been a lot more willing to play with your dolls, and soon enough, the driver’s seat in his remote control car was filled with your new ken doll that the leclercs had bought for your own birthday. charles would drive his car up to your small dollhouse, and then the passenger seat would get filled as well, with your favourite barbie doll sitting next to ken as they drove off to charles’ racetrack set up. 

life was always filled with compromises and balance for charles and yourself, and as you two got older, your friendship became stronger and less of the cat and mouse relationship you had when you were four. when you two started school, you were lucky enough to be put in the same class, and at every parent-teacher conference, your teacher always said the same thing to your parents; vos enfants parlent toujours entre eux, jamais aux autres. your children are always talking to each other, never to others.

the two of you became attached at the hip, so one can imagine the turmoil you felt when charles decided to take up racing like jules, and left you all alone at your shared desk while he karted along the tracks of france. you were even more upset when charles came back talking about a french boy named pierre. you had decided then, with both jules and pierre taking charles away from you, that you hated french people. 

during the time that charles began karting, your parents were often asked to house either lorenzo or arthur, sometimes even both, while pascale and hervé took the middle child to his races. you’d grown especially close to arthur and lorenzo during those times, and your parents had countless pictures of you and the youngest leclerc playing dress-up before bedtime.

when you met pierre, you had given him the cold shoulder, much like you had been giving jules whenever he came to visit. you were especially angry when pierre had been invited to join your vacations, but you couldn’t help but feel bad when charles looked at both of you with a sad look on his face. he wanted both of his friends to be friends too.

more years passed, and the resentment you had towards both frenchmen faded as you realized just how happy racing made charles. and when arthur started joining his brother some days, you never gave yourself the chance to feel upset, already begging your parents to let you miss a day of school so you could watch both brothers race on the same track.

you were twelve when you decided that you wanted to be involved in charles’ racing life. having grown up with hervé leclerc telling you and his kids stories about his own racing days, and having seen the leclercs and the gasly boy race on many tracks, it felt almost inevitable that you would follow a route in a similar field as them.

you had been sitting in your science class when you had your epiphany. you had listened in on jules and lorenzo talking about racing and the physics behind racing the night before, and when your teacher mentioned the word physics during the lesson, you realized that maybe, instead of racing yourself, you could join charles behind the scenes.

as charles made his way up the ranks in racing, you put your head down and studied hard to get the highest grades in your class. long gone were the days when your teachers would complain to your parents about you and charles talking so much, instead, they now focused on how you excelled in science. 

the leclercs had been just as happy for your accomplishments as they had been for their own family members. if anything, lorenzo couldn’t help but feel protective over you, going as far as to sit charles down and help him realize just how much of your life you were changing to fit in with his lifestyle. 

after that talk, thirteen-year-old charles spent hours in your room asking you if you were sure that engineering was what you wanted to do, and that he didn’t want to ruin your dreams just because of his own. you had giggled at his ever so slightly puberty-ridden voice, explaining just how sure you were that your future was going to be in engineering. 

when puberty hit the two of you, your relationship dynamic changed ever so slightly. no more sleepovers in the same room, or talking about everything that happened to one another. suddenly, you’d find yourself laying in your bed, a science textbook laying next to you haphazardly as you wondered if the shock you felt from charles’ fingers brushing against your arm was static electricity or if you were experiencing the same feelings as the girls in the books you read did. charles himself, wasn’t fairing all too well, blushing from time-to-time when pierre would call you his girl friend–yes, with the space. 

but alas, the two of you were oblivious to the growing and changing feelings between you two, brushing it off as just friends being friends. your parents had all exchanged glances when they caught you two sharing shy smiles, and lorenzo and jules couldn’t help but feel excited for the younger boy. arthur had gone as far as asking charles why his cheeks were red after you had left to go to the bathroom. the youngest leclerc had been pushed off the sofa and could be seen with teary eyes and a bruised elbow in the pictures from that barbecue night.

you were sixteen when you realized you harboured feelings for your best friend. you watched from the sidelines as charles transitioned to single-seaters, won races and made podiums with fortec. your realization had hit you while you watched him land his first podium, hugging pascale in absolute elation. the mother of the boy would later go on to tell you she could see the look on your face that day, and how she knew instantly that you knew you were in love.

you never reacted on your feelings, not wanting to ruin your relationship with charles. to him, you two were just best friends, and you would rather be his friend than lose him altogether. after all, losing him didn’t just mean living life without charles by your side. 

losing charles meant losing all the leclercs; pascale, hervé, lorenzo, and arthur. losing him meant losing pierre. losing jules, the dumb frenchman who was smart enough to figure out how you felt for the leclerc boy. the one that always pushed your buttons yet was there to help you out just like he had done all those years ago with your broken ken doll. and yet, even without telling charles how you truly felt, you ended up losing jules anyway. 

that day, you’d been at the leclerc household like always, watching the japan grand prix with the whole family. as tradition, you and charles had been wearing the team shirts that jules had given everyone at the start of the season. your eyes had been stuck to the screen as you watched jules’ crash, heart instantly plummetting to the bottom of your stomach as everyone let out gasps.

that same night, you had begged lorenzo to let you go with him when he left to go see jules’, but he had given you a sad smile and told you that he’d call you as soon as he was with jules so that you could talk to him as soon as he was able to. neither of your parents said anything when you followed charles into his room at night, holding his body tightly as you prayed that jules would be alright. no one said anything the next morning when they noticed the dark patches on your shoulder, or how your shirt had been crinkled as if someone had been holding onto it all night.

on july 17, you had decided that you would forever keep your feelings to yourself. losing jules was like losing your older brother, and you were sure that you would never be able to handle his loss along with the loss of charles. as you stood in your black dress, you had cried silently, apologizing to jules for going against his wishes and hiding your feelings once more. your heart ached when charles cried beside you, reaching a hand out to hold his. 

charles and yourself never went back to normal, for normal included lorenzo and jules picking at the two of you while your cheeks flushed red, or sending an unsuspecting arthur to spy on you two to see what you guys were doing. instead, the two of you had found a new normal, one that involved sharing sleepless nights reminiscing in your memories with jules, falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

days turned into weeks, which turned into months and years, and your feelings for your next door neighbour continued to grow. charles, however, remained entirely oblivious, both to your feelings and his own. he had been making big moves in the racing world, winning the title in gp3, and moving onto his first season in f2. you’d celebrated his entry into the f1 world as a haas developmental driver, and in turn, he celebrated the completion of your first year of university.

things were finally starting to look up, and then hervé fell ill. you watched from the back of the hospital room as his eyes lost a little bit of life every day. you watched as charles would hide his tears and smile at his dad, hoping to see him back in good health.

for your entire summer break, you’d find yourself staying at the leclerc household for multiple hours a day, sleeping over most of the nights. charles distanced himself from you, focusing on his racing, recounting his races with hervé for hours until a nurse would come in and tell him he’d have to leave. you couldn’t find it within yourself to be upset with him, knowing that right now, he didn’t need you, he needed his dad.

during this time, you had gotten exceptionally close to arthur, finding him sitting in his dark room crying silently as he thought about his dad. you would lay with him at night, letting the youngest wrap his arms around you while he shared how scared he was. you wished you could take his pain away, but you knew you couldn’t, instead opting to wipe away his tears and kissing his forehead.

you watched charles waste away, wishing you could reach out to him every time you saw him. he had lost his smile, the shine in his eyes dimming with every hour he spent watching his father whither away. by the end of the second week, you had decided you couldn’t simply watch him from afar, letting yourself into his room one night when you heard loud sniffles.

he didn’t move when you rested your hand against his back, and he didn’t resist when you pulled him into your side. at the feeling of your arms around him, his sniffles turned into broken cries and he sobbed against your clavicle. you stayed quiet, letting the boy blubber out words about how he tried so hard to stay strong but that he couldn’t anymore. you didn’t tell him it would be okay, you knew it wouldn’t. hervé was getting sicker and you feared that you would all experience loss once more.

when he had calmed down, the two of you laid down in his bed, charles’ head resting against your chest. his fingers fiddled with the bottom of your shirt, touching the skin of your back every so often. 

“je lui ai dit que j'avais signé avec ferrari,” his voice was quiet, barely louder than a whisper. i told him i signed with ferrari,

your hand found its way to his head, twirling the strands with your fingers, “comment a-t-il réagi?” how did he react?

charles’ voice broke, “il était si heureux pour moi,” his arms tightened around you, “mais je lui ai menti.” he was so happy for me, but i lied to him.

“maman est contrariée, elle a dit que je n'aurais pas dû mentir,” he sniffled, “mais je lui ai dit que j'avais signé pour 2019. je ne voulais pas mentir alors je me suis donné du temps. je veux que cela se produise.” mom is upset, said i shouldn’t have lied, but i told him i signed for 2019. i didn’t want to lie so i gave myself time. i want to make it happen.

“tu as le temps, char,” you used your hand to pull his head back, “tu as deux ans pour en faire une réalité.” you’ve got time, char, you’ve got two years to make it a reality.

his eyes glistened with tears, “mais c’est ferrari.” but it’s ferrari.

“je suis un fils horrible,” he looked away, “je lui ai menti.” i’m a horrible son, i lied to him

“tu n'es pas un fils horrible, charles,” you moved to hold his face in your hands, “tu ne l'es pas.” you are not a horrible son, charles. you’re not.

“je ne veux pas qu'il s'inquiète,” his tears slipped under your palms, “je veux qu'il parte en sachant que je peux subvenir aux besoins de notre famille.” i just don’t want him to worry. want him to leave knowing i can support our family.

your heart broke for him, “charles.”

“je veux juste qu'il soit fier de moi.” i just want to make him proud.

you leaned forward and placed gentle kisses against his closed eyelids, “il est et sera toujours fier de toi.” he has and will always be proud of you. 

a week later, you stood a few feet away from charles, tears spilling from your eyes as you wore another black dress. hervé had passed away with his family by his side, telling his boys to look after their mother. your own parents stood silently beside you, tears slipping down their own faces as well. 

after the service, you sat with the leclerc boys on the porch outside. charles’ arm pressed against yours, while arthur sat between your legs, head in your hands where you combed through his hair. lorenzo sat near the front door, keeping an eye out for his mother who sat on the couch, resting against your own mother. not a word was shared, all of you mourning in silence. 

your relationship with charles turned delicate, walking on eggshells whenever you wanted to talk to him. charles was stuck in his head, he had a job to do. you had pushed and pushed to tell him to not race n baku until he exploded, yelling at you for not understanding.

“je n'ai pas le temps de ne pas courir, y/n!” his hands were tugging at his hair, “je lui ai promis que j'avais une place chez ferrari mais je ne l'ai pas. je ne peux pas me permettre de ne pas courir, je dois aller chez ferrari.” i don't have the time to not race, y/n! i promised him i had a spot in ferrari but i don't. i can't afford to not race, i need to get to ferrari. 

and so you watched him race his heart out in baku, joining the leclerc family on their trip to azerbaijan. you watched as his sadness and despair poured into his racing. he was fast, enough speed to win the race he had dedicated to his father. his eyes had met yours while he stood at the podium and he felt himself look at you differently for the first time, his father’s words ringing in his head as he watched you smile at him with teary eyes.

it had been a couple days after charles had told hervé about his signing with ferrari when hervé asked charles to sit down and talk with him. his voice was weak and his hand shook as he reached out to grab his son’s hand.

he had smiled, “mon garçon, maintenant que tu as signé avec ferrari, pourquoi ne pas enfin te poser?” my boy, now that you've signed with ferrari, why don't you finally settle down?

“se poser?” charles had been confused, “papa, je n'ai même pas encore 20 ans.” settle down? dad, i’m not even 20 yet.

“l'amour n'a pas d'âge requis,” hervé’s laugh turned into a cough. love has no required age.

“je ne suis même pas amoureux, qu'est-ce que tu dis?” charles helped his father drink water. i'm not even in love, what are you saying?

hervé leaned back, giving his son a fond look, “mon garçon, tu es amoureux de ta meilleure amie depuis que tu l'as laissée jouer avec tes voitures télécommandées.” my boy, you have been in love with your best friend ever since you let her play with your remote control cars.

charles had since waved off his dad’s words, blaming them on his sickness. he had got it all wrong, you were his friend. nothing more, nothing less. 

yet as he stood there, looking at you for the first time since you had fought about this very race, he realized that there was something about you that made him feel like no one else could. is this what love is, papa?, he had asked as he held the trophy over his head.

less than a month later, you found yourself sitting in your room, smiling down at your phone. charles had sent you a picture of himself, dressed in ferrari red, ready to participate in the mid-season testing. charles was almost there, another step closer to his dreams. 

another month passed and now, you were preparing for your move to university dorms, third year looming around the corner. charles asked if you would like to go to mala beach with him. you’d agreed and the two of you sat in front of the bright turquoise sea, a comforting silence between you two.

“j'ai été signé,” charles had broken the silence. i got signed.

you whipped your head to him, “to ferrari?!”

charles let out a small laugh, shaking his head before looking back at you, “sauber, i’ll be starting with them in the new season.”

“c'est incroyable, char,” you gave him a wide smile, “you’re finally in f1.” that’s amazing.

charles returned your smile with one a bit smaller, “just hope i can make it to ferrari next season.”

“you will, i believe you can do it,” you leaned over and nudged me, “save me a spot in the pit wall, yeah? i’ll be waiting on your call for the 2020 season.”

charles had laughed, “of course, i will. lorenzo would have my head if i didn’t.”

“lorenzo is a smart man.”

the conversation died and you two focused back on the view in front of you. charles was nervous. he had invited you to the beach to do more than just tell you about his career. he wanted to confess to you. 

the last few months had been painful–hard–but you made it better with just a single look. after the race in baku, charles realized that he had loved you for a lot longer than he had let on. he loved you when you wore his shirt to school, running late after a sleepover. he loved you when he walked in on you and jules talking about the physics of racing. he loved you when he watched you help arthur with his math homework. he loved you when you had held him close and kissed his puffy eyes, and every single time you told him you were proud of him.

he loved you since the moment he realized what love was, even if he thought it was platonic at the time.

a finger pressed against the middle of his eyebrows, “vous réfléchissez très fort, perceval.” you’re thinking quite hard.

charles’ brows unfurrowed, but a pout graced his lips at the sound of his middle name. ever since you learned of his full name, you had taken to calling him by a different name for certain situations. perceval was for when you were teasing him. he had complained many times that he hated it when you called him that, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it endearing all at the same time. he reached up to grab your hand and pulled it between both his hands, turning so that the two of you were sat across one another rather than beside.

he let out a small sigh, eyes focused on your hand in his, “je veux te dire quelque chose.” i want to tell you something.

you, noticing his nerves, didn’t say anything, only nodding. 

you squeezed his hand and he continued, “je veux te dire quelque chose, mais j'ai peur.” i want to tell you something, but i’m scared.

your grip tightened slightly, “pourquoi as-tu peur?” why are you scared?

“j'ai peur de te perdre après avoir dit ce que j'ai à dire.” i'm scared i'll lose you after i say what i have to say.

you felt your heart race at his words, hands growing clammy. for years, you had repeated those same words to yourself, vowing yourself to silence regarding the topic. did he finally feel the same?

you willed yourself to stay calm, “you could never lose me, charles. jamais.” ever.

he gave you a nervous smile, eyes meeting yours for the first time since the new conversation rose. you gave him a soft smile, encouraging him to go on. you needed to hear him say the words first.

“quelques jours après avoir dit à papa que j'avais signé, il m'a dit qu'il était temps pour moi d'avouer mes sentiments,” charles looked away from you, “à l'époque, je n'avais aucune idée de ce dont il parlait.” a couple days after i told dad about me signing, he told me that it was time for me to come clean about my feelings…at the time i had no idea what he was talking about.

“il m'a dit que j'étais amoureuse,” he told me i was in love. charles spoke and your heart went wild. was this really happening? 

“et quand j'ai demandé avec qui, il a dit que c'était toi.” and when i asked with who, he said it was you.

you blinked at him. charles’ eyes darted back to your face, his hands squeezing yours.

“et depuis, j'ai réalisé qu'il avait raison,” he gave you a soft smile, “c'est toi. ca a toujours été toi.” and since then, i realized he was right. it's you. it's always been you.

you felt like the small waves lapping at the sand in front of you suddenly turned large and splashed down on you. you felt like your world had just gotten a thousand times brighter. a weight you never even realized you were carrying, lifted off your chest. you felt like you were breathing right for the first time. 

“y/n l/n, i love you. looking back, i have loved you from the moment you filled my memories,” his eyes searched yours, “tu as été la seule constante dans ma vie, et ce que j'ai ressenti pour toi a toujours été le même.” you've been the one constant in my life, and the way i've felt for you has always been the same. 

“je sais maintenant que c'est de l'amour, et j'ai vraiment besoin que tu le saches avant que nous passions au prochain chapitre de nos vies.” i know now it's love, and i really need you to know that before we move on to the next chapter of our lives. 

it was as if his words had been kissing you, leaving you breathless the moment he pulled away and stopped talking. charles had just told you he loved you. charles marc hervé perceval leclerc had just confessed to you.

a beat passed and he lightly tugged on your hand, the hopeful look in his eyes dimming slightly. you realized you had not responded.

“you love me?” after nearly five years of hiding your feelings from him, charles had just told you that he had felt the same. you couldn’t believe it.

he nodded slightly, “i do. je t’aime beaucoup.” i love you a lot.

you let the words sink in. he loved you. he loves you.

charles opened his mouth, “it’s okay if you don–”

“i love you, too,” you had let out a breathless laugh, “mon dieu, charles, je t'aime depuis que nous avons seize ans, quand tu as eu ton premier podium avec fortec.” my god, i have loved you since we were sixteen, when you got your first podium with fortec.

“fortec?” his eyes were wide as he realized how long it had been, “je suis un tel connard. tu as caché tes sentiments pendant si longtemps.” i am such an asshole. you've been hiding your feelings for so long.

his eyes looked watery with love, his forehead coming to rest against yours, “je suis désolé qu'il m'ait fallu si longtemps pour réaliser mes sentiments pour toi.” i'm sorry it took me so long to realize my feelings for you.

you smiled at him softly, your own eyes tearing up just as much as his, “mieux vaut tard que jamais.” better late than never.

to say your relationship with charles changed drastically after the confession would be a lie. the two of you spent the rest of your day at the beach wrapped up in each other’s arms, and charles had kissed your forehead before he drove the two of you home. the entire night you felt like you couldn’t sleep, and instead you spent your entire night texting charles with your curtains pulled shut, not wanting charles to see how wide you smiled with every text.

and although you two had confessed, you had neglected to discuss what would happen next.

charles had texted you at half past midnight the night before you left for university, asking for you to come outside. when you came out to your porch, he stood there with a smile on his face and an offer to go to the park you two used to play at as kids.

you were on the swings when he had asked you, sitting side by side and swinging back and forth slowly. you had been focused on the movement of your feet, trying to swing just slightly higher than charles.

“tu dirais oui si je te demandais d'être ma petite amie?” would you say yes if i asked you to be my girlfriend?

whenever charles reminisced this moment, he would say that the look you gave him when you registered his question had been the cutest doe-eyed look ever. your eyes were wide and your eyebrows had raised slightly. your lips were parted in the smallest of round shapes, and you blinked before responding.

“je pense que oui,” you slowed your swinging slightly, eyes bright with excitement, “veux-tu l'essayer?” i think i would. do you want to try it?

charles had given you a cheeky smile, slipping out of his swing and resting on one knee in front of you. he had gotten down wrong with his right knee kissing the ground, but you said nothing as your lips quirked into a smile.

“y/n l/n,” he reached for your hands and you let him grab them, “me ferais-tu l'honneur d'être ma charmante petite amie?” would you do the honour of being my lovely girlfriend?

you pretended to think about it, the hum turning into a giggle at the way charles’ face dropped in annoyance, “j’aimerais.” i would love to.

and much to the annoyance of charles’ nosy brothers, you two hadn’t kissed to set the new relationship in stone, instead wrapping each other into a tight hug, one where your feet left the ground, before charles placed a gentle kiss to your temple. 

the two of you had been dating for four months before you finally had your first kiss. charles had asked you out on a date on christmas eve, and had been rather disappointed when it began raining halfway through. it was cheesy, you knew it, charles knew it, and anyone and everyone who watched you tug charles out from under tha canopy and into the rain knew it too, but neither of your seemed to care. 

charles’ cheeks and nose were slightly rosy from the mixture of cold raindrops and wind, and you were sure you weren’t fairing much better. your hands had wrapped around his neck as his found home against your hips. 

“i’ve dreamt of kissing under the rain ever since i watched ‘a cinderella story’,” you had laughed, throwing your head back into the rain.

charles had pulled you closer, “well, ma princesse, i’m here to make your dreams a reality.” 

sharing a kiss under the rain was cold, obviously–you couldn’t help the shiver that travelled up your spine when charles’ cold lips pressed themselves against your own–but at the same time, it was so warm. you felt like someone had lit a candle inside of you, warming you up from the inside out. when you pulled away, the two of you couldn’t help but let out soft laughs, hearts racing faster than any car charles had ever drove. 

the two of you had spent the rest of the year laying under warm blankets, with a cacophony of coughs and sneezes being your main form of communication.

your third year in university was split halfway between studying or taking exams, and watching charles’ races or crying to him over facetime because engineering was already so hard. as much as you had wished to be there attending charles’ every race in f1, you were nearing the end of your second semester and were swamped with finals. 

your first f1 race had been the 2018 monaco grand prix, and you’d spent the better part of your evening with your arms wrapped around him as he promised you that the next races would be better. the season had been rough for charles, but you had celebrated every good result, no matter how small.

it was your second holiday season as charles’ girlfriend when both of your worlds changed entirely. a couple days before christmas, charles had asked for you and your parents to join his family for dinner. when you had all settled around the dining table, charles stood up with a wide smile on his face.

“j'ai signé avec ferrari.” i signed with ferrari.

to this day, that dinner had been one of your favourite memories. the amount of smiles and tears shared, and the sheer pride that filled your chest when you looked at charles was something you had never been able to forget. 

that night, you and charles found yourselves sharing a bed, hands intertwined between the two of you. his eyes were glossy as he looked at you. 

a tear slipped out of his eyes when he closed them, “i didn’t lie.”

your free hand moved to wipe the tear away. your mind rushed back to the night you two had shared a week before hervé’s passing. 

you leaned forward and kissed his closed eyelids much like you had done the previous year, “no you didn’t. you’ve done well, mon amour. i know he’s so proud of you.”

on christmas morning, lorenzo had surprised you with a letter from the ferrari engineering academy, offering you an intern position to gain trackside experience for your final semester of your engineering degree. you had cried and thanked him profusely, while he laughed at your blubbering figure. later that night, arthur and charles had fought over who you’d be a race engineer for, with the youngest pointing out that he would soon join the ferrari driver academy himself.

and so 2019 began, with charles driving for ferrari, while you gained experience working with the ferrari engineering academy. by the end of your final semester, you had been offered to continue your internship with the academy which you had accepted immediately.

2019 was also the year that your relationship became public, a series of events causing fans to go crazy. pictures of charles in a suit had gone viral after some of your classmates caught sight of him at your graduation, and while you weren’t in the pictures, fans were quick to theorize that his girlfriend was one of the students who was graduating. 

speculations and theories about who you were had only just started when you made yourself known to the general f1 public, joining charles at french grand prix. it hadn’t been the plan, but after watching charles finish the race in p3 behind the mercedes, you couldn’t hold yourself back from wrapping your arms around your boyfriend and sharing a sweet kiss, unbeknownst to the cameras plastered everything to the big screens. 

for the rest of the season, you made appearances on random race weekends, work being a lot more lenient than your university deadlines had ever been. fans had joked that you were his good luck charm, with charles ending up on a podium in every race you went to.

the belgian grand prix was a race weekend you could never forget, for more reasons than one. you were there to see anthoine’s crash, hand clasped with charles as you watched the scene pan out. you felt like you were eighteen again, sitting next to charles as you watched jules on the tv. 

you had met anthoine quite a few times as you grew up for he, pierre, and charles had always been a tight-knit group. the frenchman had always been kind to you, and you found it hard to believe that he would no longer be cracking jokes with you about something pierre and charles had done while you were away.

both pierre and yourself had cried watching charles receive his award and dedicate his first win to anthoine. you wondered if he and jules were watching charles from above, smiling proudly for his accomplishment.

t was a home race that charles had won next, and the amount of people you had come across at work asking you to pass on a congratulations to charles was insane. you couldn’t complain though, you were proud charles was finally getting the recognition and love he deserved.

it was in italy where you celebrated your second anniversary, also. charles had gifted you a pretty necklace with his racing number on it, something you had worn ever since. 

in late 2019, you had been given an opportunity to join prema racing as an engineer which you had happily accepted. as you all sat around the dinner table for christmas, you shared the exciting news. arthur had been ecstatic, explaining how he would be driving for prema racing starting 2020.

“stop pouting, charles,” arthur had rolled his eyes, catching sight of his brooding older brother, “je t'avais dit qu'elle serait mon ingénieur de course.” i told you she would be my race engineer.

charles gaped at his younger brother, “woah, woah, woah. qui a dit qu'elle était votre ingénieur de course?” who said anything about her being your racing engineer?

“cela doit arriver,” arthur had smirked, dodging the hand that charles has attempted to slap his head with. it’s bound to happen.

and so, you debuted as a racing engineer during a pandemic, something you had never imagined yourself saying. much like how you hadn’t imagined saying that you would be the racing engineer for one arthur leclerc. 

much to charles’ chagrin, you remained arthur’s racing engineer for as long as he stayed in prema racing, which had been a total of three years. when it was revealed that arthur had signed with alfa romeo racing for the 2023 season, you had received multiple offers from other f1 teams to join as an engineer for their drivers. 

charles himself had jumped at the opportunity, conducting a meeting with mattia to consider switching xavier out for you, presenting him with all of yours and arthur’s stats from the previous years. when word got out about you possibly becoming charles’ race engineer, ferrari fans from across the globe demanded that mattia offer you the job. at the end of the 2022 season, scuderia ferrari had released a statement that stated how you would be replacing xavier padros as charles leclerc’s race engineer for his future ferrari seasons.

it was christmas yet again, the sixth one since you had started dating charles, and said boyfriend couldn’t help but taunt his younger brother.

“je t'avais dit qu'elle serait à moi après tout.” told you she would be mine after all.

arthur waved him off, “oui, oui. elle était mon ingénieur en premier. et pendant trois ans, laissez-moi le dire.” yeah, yeah. she was my engineer first. and for three years, let me just put that out there.

you rolled your eyes, smacking the back of charles’ head before reaching over and tugging on arthur’s ear, “depuis quand suis-je un objet que vous pouvez posséder et faire circuler?” since when was i an object you guys could just own and pass around?

both brothers winced and avoided your eyes, mumbling a quick sorry before stuffing their mouths with food. pascale had laughed, always entertained when her boys got scolded by you.

the start of your first season with ferrari had gone amazingly, with both charles and the season’s car performing exceptionally well. charles had managed to secure a large gap in the points for the driver’s championship, leading the championship with two wins worth of points.

and that leads us to now, the final race of the 2023 season. the fight for the title had yet to be over, with charles and max flipping positions every few races. at the moment, max had been leading the wdc with only five more points than charles, said ferrari driver currently leading the race with the dutch driver hot on his tail.

“alright, char, we’ve got two more laps, you can do it. push, push.”

the sound of your voice had never failed to bring a smile on charles face, no matter how stressed he was when you spoke over the radio, “how’s it looking?”

“you’re quicker than max in all sectors but the last,” you read off your observations, “ideally, you’d want that last sector to be the quickest so that there’s no chance of him overtaking you. can you go any faster?”

you could hear the smile in his voice as he pushed his car to go faster, “of course, i can, cherié.”

you tsked, “no flirting on the job, leclerc. one lap remaining.”

the radio stayed silent for the next minute, charles focused on staying ahead of max who continued to put pressure on the monégasque from behind. you could see the red ferrari at the final turn, unable to keep the smile from growing as max’s tires locked up, increasing the gap between him and charles.

the mechanics began cheering loudly, rushing to the pit wall to cheer for your boyfriend who crossed the finish line first.

you had laughed loudy, “and that’s a checkered flag, mon amour! you are the 2023 world champion!”

charles exclaimed loudly over the radio, car slowing down for a cooldown lap. he let out a few whoops before settling down to give a quick message to the team, “excellent job, guys. wow, congratulations everyone. thank you for all of the hard work this season. today marks not only my first driver’s championship, but also our first constructor’s championship win since 2008.”

he continued to thank a few more people before letting out another ecstatic laugh. from across the pitwall, you could see arthur’s red and white car cross the finish line in fifth place. 

“amour?” charles’ voice called out to you, “you there?”

“of course, champ. what’s up?” you gave mattia a confused look as he smiled at you. 

“tu dirais oui si je te demandais d'être ma femme?” would you say yes if i asked you to be my wife?

your breath hitched in your throat. you felt like you were thrown back into 2017, twenty years old sitting on a swing while charles sat in the one next to you.

“je pense que oui,” you repeated, eyes beady with unshed tears, “veux-tu l'essayer?” i think i would. do you want to try it?

charles had rushed to you the second he parked his car, pulling you close to plant a kiss against your lips before he was whisked away rather quickly to complete his post-race duties.

in front of the cameras, charles expressed his absolute elation regarding winning the grand prix, as well as coming first in both championships. the interviewer congratulated the monégasque on getting most votes for driver of the day as well, before moving on to the question he knew everyone wanted an answer for.

“so, we all picked up on that last radio message there. can we expect to receive any happy news in the near future?”

charles had smiled and shrugged, “i guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

for the final podium of the season, as his race engineer and team principal, you and mattia would be joining charles. even after 26 years of being around him, your heart still raced when you saw charles join you two on the podium.

with the awards distributed, you had waited to get drenched with champagne, looking around confused when no one popped a bottle. charles got off his step, making his way towards you.

unlike his cheeky smile six years ago, the smile on his face today was tender. the crowd beneath the podium screamed loudly as he kneeled on his left knee. he did it right this time, you couldn’t help but smile.

just like he had done six years ago, he uttered your name, “y/n l/n,” instead of grabbing your hands this time, he held his hand out to mattia, who handed him a ring box. 

charles opened the box and presented it to you, “me ferais-tu l'honneur d'être ma charmante femme?” would you do the honour of being my lovely wife?

and just like you had done six years ago, you pretended to contemplate, your smile peeking through as charles rolled his eyes at you playfully. you stuck your left hand out, wiggling your fingers, “j’aimerais.” i would love to.

the champagne bottles popped the second charles slipped the ring on your finger. you didn’t even care as the sweet champagne sprayed against your face and body, too wrapped up in the loving gaze of your fiancé. 

and then, just like you had done for the first time under the rain six years ago, the two of you locked lips under the showers of champagne. 

Hello!! May I request a charles leclerc fluff drable where he's like always staring at y/n (in a non-creepy way hehe) and like just has a big crush on her even when they're dating already type of thing? or something? tysm!

something – cl16

Looking can be so similar to loving—just ask Charles.

auds here... title from this. also i feel it is the one of the best ‘so enamored ur moving in slow mo’ songs...

A blue dress. Deep blue, satin, wrapped around your figure like you’re a dream that’s his.

There are moments where Charles’ world slows when he sees you, and this is one of them, a year into dating. Suddenly he feels like he’s a teen seeing his first racing car, or a kid seeing Star Wars all over again. Nothing else matters but this—but you, in this deep blue dress, your arms swinging around as you dance to the upbeat music that plays at this dinner party.

Someone’s clutched your hand and twirled you around, so quick your hair falls over your face. He wants to pick you up, let his hands wring around your waist and hug you close, close, closer. He wants to wipe the hair from your face, press a kiss to your cheek, then your nose, then your lips, taste the martini there, smell the sea and the two spritzes of perfume on your jaw.

You move in slow motion, every ripple of your dress, every tendril of hair over your eyelashes. You’re laughing, tipsy, when your friend hugs you close, moving the both of you into a shitty waltz. Jesus, you’re so pretty. 

“Charles!” You’re saying. He blinks, and your eyes are meeting his, smiling with the rest of your face. The French summer has tinged your cheeks with the heat, your left shoulder peeling with a sunburn. Even now in the evening, when it hides, it’s managed to follow you still, blinding and beautiful. An arm stretches out, a hand, then a finger. Come on, you’re saying, dance with me!

It’s your favorite song that’s playing, some disco tune that has you hopping excitedly, hips swaying in the kind of way he can’t ever get his eyes off of. He knows this because it’s one of the ones at the top of his Spotify statistics, what with how often you’re using his phone to launch impromptu dance parties while cooking or cleaning or driving. 

So he does, gets up from where he’s been sitting while everyone else dances. He’d been undoing his tie, then two buttons on his polo, nursing Scotch (between you both, you like to say, he’s the boring drinker and you’re the fun one.) You shimmy your shoulders when his hand locks with yours, a smile stretching onto your face when he pulls you close and wraps the same arm around your waist. The song hasn’t yet reached its crescendo, so you sway softly, smiling like idiots.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes lidded from the alcohol and the feeling of being this near you.

“Hey there, handsome. Here often?”

“Just passing by, actually.” He pauses. “I saw a beautiful girl from the entrance and couldn’t help myself.”

You laugh, letting him twirl you as the chorus begins, both of you moving to the ever-familiar beat of this song and using the same moves you use at home, when it’s just the two of you. That’s exactly how it feels, though: like it’s just you both, dancing and laughing. When he finally moves your hair aside and presses a kiss to your lips, the world slows all over again. 

—

His world whirs into slow motion when Pascale is laughing at one of your jokes.

“I’m funnier than your son,” you say when she’s wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. Across the brunch table, finger tapping against the white linen tablecloth, Charles’ eyes are stuck on you. Nobody notices his stare of adoration, because it’s so usual, so ordinary, for him to be looking at you so intently, and with so much love.

You’re wearing a white dress that you’d been wiping your palms over nervously in the car, asking him to repeat a crash course of his family over and over until it was the only thing your mind was capable of retaining. Yet for all your nerves, you’d blended in exceptionally well with everyone at the table, over salmon and pasta and tea and biscuits.

Pascale had ushered you in with the urgency of every mother, a hand around your shoulder, pointing out members of the family, fixtures on the wall. There’s a story behind everything. Behind stains, scratches, pictures, peeled-off labels. You’d let her tell you everything. 

A smile makes its way onto your face when you see Pascale fail to stop laughing over your joke, her hand clenching yours. Your eyes meet his, and he can see the excitement in them—the joy of having this happen. He hopes you can read him equally well, hopes you can see how excited he is, too, for this to be happening, for you to be so loved by the people that matter most to him.

A hand comes up to tuck hair behind your ear, lips pursing to prevent your smile from widening. No, he wants to say, I want to see you smile. Everything. Show me everything. You’re beautiful.

“You really are,” says Pascale, and the two of you turn to smile softly at him. This is love, he thinks, and he wishes time never quickens ever again.

—

The book this week is Love in the time of Cholera. You try to read one book every two weeks, but lately you’ve been forgetting—last night you’d firmly resolved to start again, and you’re hooked on the words already.

The thin blanket of your bed is the only thing shielding you from the cold, your bare back turned to him as you continue to read the chapter. Charles sees you and wishes he was half as good as you. You’re stupid, you’d said with genuine concern when he told you this once. Have you even seen yourself? And you praised him, listed every last amazing thing about him.

Still, he wasn’t convinced. There may have been awards and videos and celebrations for him, but he wishes he was good enough for you sometimes. Your intelligence, your wit, your beauty. Your ability to get up and read a book in the morning. Your capacity to love. He can’t believe you’re his, all his, this beautiful girl is truly all his.

His world slows again, time ticking into slow motion as he watches you passively. Every few moments there’s the sound of the page turning, and your slow breathing makes up the rest. He wants to paint a picture on your back, make you his canvas, so he can think of another way to convey his immense, all-encompassing love for you.

Genuinely, he thinks he’d be incomplete without you. He conveys this in the way he stares, the way he admires, like you’re a sculpture in the Louvre and he’s at the front of the line. But he’s the only one in line, and he’ll be damned if somebody shows up behind him. 

You pause; the noise of the blanket rustling and your book shutting snaps Charles back to reality. Without turning, your voice penetrates the silence. “What are you doing?” With sleep and unuse, your voice is raspy.

“Looking at you.” He answers slowly.

Your eyes meet his, eyebrow raising as you turn slightly. “Why?”

“Just…” he pauses. It’s impossible to articulate why. So he says instead, “Just looking.”

—

When a race is won, reaches its climax and its end all at once, it’s a noisy affair.

Tonight, there are fireworks, music, the pulse of excitement in the crowd that celebrates Leclerc’s P1. Everything moves fast, fast, fast—interviews, cheers, arms wrapped around him, worshipping him, fans screaming. Then it’s the media pen, questions over and over, then he’s packing up, tallying points, having debriefs.

He tugs off his helmet. Everything is fast, even in his moment of winning. Fast and quick and heavy. But he seeks something, something to make time slow—

And finds her, wearing a too-big Ferrari shirt (courtesy of Joris getting the sizing all wrong) in the crowd by the pit lane, beautiful as ever. You’re waving, your enthusiasm in your whoops of encouragement. You blow a kiss, and time is slow again. He watches you grip the front of the shirt and present it proudly, the big 1-6 embedded on it. He’s yours, yes, he is.

I love you, you mouth slowly. He nods back—it’s more than enough. Then you’re making a shoo motion with your hand, decorated with bracelets that match his. Go, you’re saying, go and be the winner, be the best driver. Later, you’ll be mine, just mine, just Charles.

He’s whisked away to do an interview, but his eyes are stuck on yours, excited and proud. You never usually like watching races, out of fear, but Charles insists you do, presses a kiss to your forehead and promises everything will be okay. You end up digressing almost every time.

“I’d imagine this win is the highlight of the week,” says the journalist smugly, then extends the mic to Charles’ lips.

He shakes his head a little. “Just one of them,” he responds, smiling. 

—

A necklace with an initial on it, a thin silver ring across your middle finger, a matching bracelet on your wrist.

“Who is that?” Charles asks dazedly, shoulder bumping Carlos’. An explanation is fed into his ear, someone who knows someone knows her and invited her to attend this dinner. It’s getting late in London, and he’d been prepared to get to his car and go to his hotel, but suddenly he’s distracted, stopped in his tracks.

It almost feels weird to have time slow so much like this.

Even when he’s in a racing car, or winning, or when a car careens off track and time seems to hang in the balance—nothing has made him feel this way before. He watches you laugh, play with the neckline of your black top and listens to your ring clink against your glass of champagne.

Your hair is tied into a loose bun, framing your face, your lips making animated conversation with someobody else. He wants to hear your voice, make you smile, see how you react to his own jokes. Time crawls when he thinks of you, moves like a turtle walking through honey.

So later, when he’s almost abandoned the idea of introducing himself, he finds you clicking your car keys on the sidewalk. He clicks his, watches the lights of his Ferrari blink open, and you turn to him, smiling coyly.

You open your mouth, and say: “So you’re the cute dickhead who can’t park?”

Again, time moves in slow motion, your bun coming undone as you turn, hair falling over your back, arms crossing over your torso. Your high heels click softly against the pavement as you listen to him stutter out an introduction, an apology for the shit parking. This is it, he thinks, the start of something absolutely beautiful.

If he’s looked at you now, he thinks, he can’t ever look away. He hopes he doesn’t ever have to.

the summer i turned pretty - charles leclerc & arthur leclerc

a reader x charles leclerc/arthur leclerc love triangle

warnings: intoxicated (but consensual) kissing

a/n: trying out a written piece/smau/texts weird hybrid but it was all i could come up with to get this idea across! i hope you all like it <3 (there will be a part 2)

also this was requested!! i'm so sorry anon i lost the ask but i hope u see it and like it anyways

Day 1

France is a place that isn’t easy to forget, but having lived there your whole life made it seem ordinary. The country that saw me grow up, and that I was glad to call home, failed to impress me every day because I was used to it. The beautiful architecture, history, and tourist attractions weren’t as beautiful to me anymore; it was my day-to-day life.

That wasn’t true for the beach house in Nice. It wasn’t mine, or my family’s, but that place never failed to impress me, even if it was my day-to-day life every summer. The Leclerc summer home was my favorite place on Earth. From its blue and white facade, the soft beige interiors, the pool and beach view, the big dining room, and the incredible company, there’s no place I’d rather be in right now.

“Y/N L/N, you have arrived!” Charles Leclerc, the ultimate reason for this place’s beauty, yelled out to me.

“Charles Leclerc, I have arrived!” I replied blushing, and opening my arms into an embrace. As every time I hugged him, my body relaxed and tensed somehow at the same time, safe and nervous, loved and not loved back. But aren’t all childhood crushes like that?

“I’ve also arrived, pote. If you even care,” my wonderfully annoying older brother, Alexandre, interjected. Charles let me go to greet my brother, and I turned to find the youngest Leclerc, Arthur, on his way to hug me hello.

“Hi, chérie,” he said with a smile on his face, ruffling my hair affectionately.

“Hi, Arthur. Up to no good once again?”

“I’m always up to all good!”

Pascale Leclerc, the boys’ mother, greeted me with cheeks kisses and pinches. Everyone then swarmed my mom, Alice. Sometimes I think my friends love her more than they love me, but that was deserved.

As every year before, everyone finally felt at home. And as every year before, the inaugural pool party started.

“Y/N L/N, will you do me the honor of joining me at the pool?” Charles exaggeratedly held out his hand, as if we were Royals in a ball. Antics that I was happy to oblige with. Too happy for my dignity to recover. 

As we made our way inside, and swam a couple laps playing around on who is faster, we wound up floating peacefully on a corner with the sun beginning to set. 

“I missed you,” Charles said out of nowhere, making my heart do a somersault. 

“I miss you too,” I managed to reply, feeling the blush on my cheeks. 

“I want to hear from you more often. I know I’m busy with racing, but I always can make time for you Y/N.”

The thing about unrequited love is any show of affection feels like a marriage proposal. But of course I could not deny his request. He was, above all else, one of my best friends and one that I needed to be there for. 

Hervé Leclerc passed away the year before, a couple months after the summer vacation. We didn’t know it would be the last time we spent with him, and I was worried about what this year’s vacation would be like with the boys’ father missing. 

“I’m always here for you,” I vowed and he gave me a quick, chaste kiss on my forehead. To make sure I wouldn’t forget my promise. 

As I looked at Charles’ glistening face against the darkening sun, I realized we would be okay. 

y/ninstagram added to her stories

charles_leclerc added to his stories

Day 2

“Chérie,” was the first voice I heard as I woke up, with Arthur knocking on my door for show and letting himself in.

“Too early,” I whined back and hid under the covers, to have them ripped from me by the guy in my room.

“It’s time for the sunrise beach walk,” he replied and I knew he was right, so I let myself be dragged outside the house. I couldn’t say no, since the sunrise walk at least once during the vacation is also a tradition between Arthur and I.

It was also worth it; we silently agreed for that to be time to catch up, be honest, and be vulnerable ever since we began taking the walks. This one would be particularly hard too.

“I really, really miss my dad,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders to walk side by side.

I didn’t know how to handle Hervé’s death with the boys. 

Enzo was older than me, even beyond his years, and there was nothing I could say that would be wiser, or better than what he had to say.

Arthur was quiet and reasonable, way more accepting of inevitables than me, more useful to himself than me.

Charles was passionate but closed, a master at compartmentalization, never letting me in even if I’d like to.

But Arthur, ever my closest friend, still needed my support.

“I know you do,” I replied softly and squeezed his hand. “It’s only normal, and I’m sorry you’ve been dealt these cards.”

Grief is a strange thing, but on the beach I hoped I let Arthur know that I would always be by his side, and that the sun will always rise again for him. With his steady breathing while leaning on me as we sat on the sand, I knew he understood.

arthur_leclerc added to his stories

y/ninstagram added to her stories

Day 3

y/ninstagram added to her stories

ameliedeveraux20 added to her stories

This was the third year Arthur and I were invited to parties that Alexandre and Charles went to. The promotion from little siblings to cool siblings opened up a new world in Nice. Especially one where I could ignore my schoolgirl crush on Charles through alcohol.

So I happily got ready, into a pink summer dress and into the car that would drive us all to an even bigger house filled with a bunch of privileged European kids ready to drink the night away.

The first drink came from Antoine, who sadly had a beautiful girl around his arms that indicated he wouldn’t be a good distraction. The second one came from Amelie, my Nice girlfriend, who was happy as ever to see me and catch up with me before she also found an arm candy and promptly left. The third one was on me, as I was forced to stare at Charles making out with a girl I learned was named Charlotte.

After that, I stopped counting and kept drinking, joining the dance floor to enjoy the numb feeling in my face, the new found careless attitude, and the music blasting in my ears.

Before I could process it, Arthur was in front of me, the blush on his face indicating he was also intoxicated. What started as a normal jumping around like one does at a party, progressed to a point where his hands were on my waist and my hands were on his neck.

I couldn’t even recognize the song anymore, too entranced on the way his eyes were on mine. There were no words, as was usual between him and I. We just knew.

I wouldn’t take the first step, but he would. Arthur’s lips met mine in a strong, messy kiss. I didn’t pull away. I did want it. And it wasn’t scary.

When we stopped to take a breath, I realized I wanted to kiss him again. As I was leaning in, taking the initiative myself now, another force pulled me away.

I walked by inertia, trying not to fall down in following who was leading me away from the crowd. When I looked up, I recognized it to be Charles.

I couldn’t breathe from the adrenaline of the kiss I just shared, but also from the touch of Charles’ hand on mine, even if it was to take me out of the party.

My reaction was all too slow, finally starting to protest.

“What are you doing? Let me go,” I defensively said, snatching my hand away from his. The butterflies didn’t leave anyways.

“You’re drunk, let’s go home,” Charles coldly replied and held my hand again on his way to the car.

“Why would I want to go home? I’m having fun,” I continued to protest and he continued to pay me no mind.

As he put me inside the vehicle, despite my clumsy attempts to fight it, and slammed the door, I continued to think about what this could possibly be about. Where was Charlotte? Where was Arthur? What was happening?

My head spun and he got in the driver’s seat, turning the ignition on.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re drunk. You don’t kiss people when you’re drunk.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You don’t kiss people you haven’t kissed sober.”

“Its Arthur!”

“Exactly!”

The back and forth continued all the way to the house, my thoughts sobering up with every passing moment.

“If you don’t want me to be with your brother because you don’t think I’m good enough, that’s really not your choice,” I told him decisively, crossing my arms and pouting like a child throwing a tantrum.

That was the only explanation for what Charles just did. He didn’t think a Leclerc should be with someone like me, and was doing everything he could to prevent it.

When he started laughing, I wasn’t so convinced anymore.

“What’s so funny?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I just made the biggest scene out of jealousy, and you’re saying I don’t think you’re good enough.”

Time froze and my mouth went dry. The confession made its way through my entire bloodstream, replacing the alcohol effects with pure shock. My head was spinning for entirely different reasons, and my brain couldn’t bring the words out. What would I even say?

I opened my mouth but nothing came out, and Charles put his face on his hands in frustration, before leaving the car. I still could only think what is happening?

you're on your own, kid | pg10

"i wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what she thought was the best night of her life, she came to the realization that she was nothing but one more girl on his list

warning: angst, childhood best friends, toxic fuckboy pierre, mentions of bullying as a little kid, friend zone, one-night stand, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of feeling used, emotional dependence, heartbreak, miscommunication trope, platonic!reader x charles leclerc

pairing: pierre gasly x reader

word count: 4.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts.

whoever guessed 'you're on your own, kid'... CONGRATS!! this one is for you! haha I hope you guys like this one, it's the longest story I've written so far but this is such a special song to me and I tried my best to do it justice! enjoy!

masterlist

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

I play it cool with the best of them

I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me

It's okay, we're the best of friends

Anyway

For as long as Y/N could remember, she had been completely and madly in love with her best friend.

Pierre and Y/N became an inseparable duo from the moment they met as two little kids trying out for their primary school's football team.

At the time, the other boys tried to make fun of the little girl for wanting to be a part of a "boys' sport", as they called it. Being the only girl there, she was made the target of all the bullying, but when she was about to give in and give up, her hero appeared in the form of 6-year-old Pierre who defended her with everything he had.

Y/N looked at the tiny French boy with wide, sparkling eyes as he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze so she wouldn't feel alone.

From there, the two immediately became best friends and that's how they stayed throughout the years.

But at some point in time, the girl found herself getting butterflies when she was in Pierre's presence, imagining what it would be like to have his lips against hers, idealizing a life where the two would be together as more than just friends.

It was inevitable. Pierre emanated such a powerful energy that it consumed her head and dominated all her senses.

He was like a drug: addictive, impossible to give up and she depended on him for survival - almost as if he was oxygen.

And so it was with so many other girls, victims of the driver's charm, although his playboy fame followed him everywhere since he was a teenager.

And it hurt. It hurt too much.

All those years, Y/N had no choice but to fake a smile and nod as she listened to the Frenchman brag about all his latest conquests, all the models, actresses and singers he got involved with all over the world. 

She had no choice but to wait patiently for him to notice her and for him to finally see them as more than the best of friends.

I hear it in your voice, you're smoking with your boys

I touch my phone as if it's your face

I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out

There's just one who could make me stay

All my days

To be honest, Y/N was already starting to accept that nothing would ever happen between them.

So, the girl chose to distance herself from her friend a little, in an attempt to let her romantic feelings for him fade over time.

She used every excuse in the book to avoid him: I'm tired, I have other plans, I'm working late, I'm sick, I had a family emergency. All of the excuses in the world were used.

Until the day when there were no more excuses and she ended up having to give in, arranging a movie night with the man, as they frequently did over their friendship of nearly two decades.

Y/N arrived at Pierre's luxury apartment in Milan on time as she always did. For a second, she hesitated to knock on the door, letting her anxiety take over, and almost decided to flee in the opposite direction. But as if the driver read her thoughts, the Frenchman appeared from inside his house, seeing his best friend, frozen on top of his black 'welcome' mat.

"Hey! I thought I heard someone coming!" Pierre said excitedly as he gave the girl a short hug. "What are you waiting for? Come in, make yourself comfortable!"

Y/N took off her long coat, hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway, and followed Pierre into his living room, where she saw everything prepared for their movie session. Pillows scattered across the living room floor, two warm blankets crumpled on the couch and two buckets full of popcorn, the smell of which had entered her nose from the moment she set foot inside the apartment.

The familiar image of the boy sitting on his soft carpet made her body relax, and she took the seat next to him while he searched for a movie on his Netflix account. After the two agreed to watch a horror movie, both of them big fans of the genre, the two leaned back against the bottom of the sofa and directed their attention to the screen.

The minutes passed and the two remained in a comfortable silence, commenting from time to time on some of the moments in the film. 

Pierre was now closer to the girl's side and the heat he radiated seemed to almost burn her with the tension that appeared to have settled in her room.

Out of nowhere, Y/N felt something cold on her thigh and thought she was daydreaming when she realized it was her best friend's hand. The girl didn't react, fearing that the words coming out of her mouth would be the wrong ones.

She couldn't help but notice how the driver seemed to be studying her every move, out of the corner of his eye, like a predator looking for prey to attack. 

It was a look she had seen on his face more times than she could count. But never directed at her.

His hand began to move slowly up her soft thigh towards the warm spot between her legs, testing the waters and seeing how far she allowed him to go. His calculated movement was stopped abruptly when she caught his wrist before he reached his intended destination.

"Pierre, what are you doing?" Y/N asked, turning her flushed face towards him.

The boy was mere inches away from her, a smirk plastered across his face and without any sign of regret or embarrassment at having been caught making his risky move. "Y/N, don't lie to me. I've seen the way you look at me. The way your eyes react when they see me approaching you, when you see me with other girls, or when you see me shirtless." He grinned at her, shamelessly.

The girl remained silent, no words daring to be uttered, and she gasped as his hand returned to its former place on the top of her thigh. The Frenchman narrowed the space between them even more, letting his lips brush over hers.

"Come on, Y/N. I can feel how much you want this, want me right now." The man spoke, his fingers now playing with the elastic of her underwear, threatening to act on his desire. "Don't think too much about it. Just live in the moment and act without thinking about the consequences."

Those words were enough to make her head turn off, completely losing her rationality.

Filled with lust, Y/N acted without thinking and kissed Pierre urgently, as if she feared the moment would end at any moment.

With tongues fighting passionately, touches exploring the curves and details of each others' bodies, and clothes scattered carelessly around the room, the two allowed themselves to enter a new level of intimacy.

And the young woman's heart looked like it could explode at any moment with how full it felt, finally having the boy she craved for so long in her arms.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

The next day, Y/N woke up with the sun's rays coming through the half-open window of a room that she recognized immediately as Pierre's bedroom.

Though she had never woken up in that room like this before: naked, with only the sheets covering her body, and with a satisfying ache between her legs that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Although the driver was nowhere to be seen, a goofy smile appeared on her face, and she brought her hands to her face to cover it up. She let out a silent little scream as she remembered the wonderful hours she'd spent the night before, her exploring Pierre's body, Pierre exploring hers.

Finally, things were going to change. 

She finally got the boy she wanted all those agonizing years.

Grabbing a used tracksuit of his that was lying on a chair and a pair of clean boxers from his drawer, the girl got dressed and headed to the kitchen, where she found her lover leaning against one of his kitchen counters, concentrated on the phone in his hand while drinking some coffee.

"Well, good morning!" Y/N said, almost humming with so much happiness filling her as she approached the driver.

"Hey." He replied, short and dry, making the young woman stop in her tracks, dumbfounded by his carefree attitude.

"Did you sleep well today...?" She tried to test the waters to see if it was just her being dramatic and misunderstanding his response.

"Yeah, sure." Pierre spoke again, without returning the question and without taking his eyes off the small screen of his iPhone as he drank a bit more of his coffee.

Nervousness began to replace all the bliss that previously consumed the girl. It was almost as if he never cared, not even after all she gave him the night before. "Is there something wrong, Pierre?" She questioned, clutching the bottom of the hoodie she was wearing in an attempt to hide her uneasiness.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

"No, sorry. I'm just trying to arrange something here." He replied, more friendly, though he still hadn't even looked at her since Y/N walked into the kitchen.

"What are you planning?" The girl asked, trying everything to strike up a conversation with him. Her heart was beating wildly at that point, and it seemed to crack more and more with each beat.

"Just this lunch thing with a girl I've been talking to for a few weeks." His shoulders shrugged as if his words hadn't pushed Y/N to her limits.

She couldn't explain how hurt she felt. How dirty and used he, of all people, made her feel.

How could he? Her best friend. The person who had been by her side for years. The man she would do anything for.

After suffering in silence for years afraid to act on her feelings, this was her pay for taking a risk once in her life: becoming just another silly girl in Pierre Gasly's long list of lovers.

Just another conquest, another achievement, undeserving of the driver's concern and care, with zero distinction from all others.

"Look, I'm in a hurry. I really have to go, Y/N." He informed her just as he started to walk hurriedly towards the exit, placing a quick kiss on her temple.

As if those same lips hadn't been glued to hers, clinging to every surface of the girl's body just hours before.

"You know the way! Just let yourself out. See you later!" He yelled, leaving the girl stunned, tears streaming from her eyes, as she heard the apartment door close loudly.

I see the great escape, so long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed, writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

A couple of days later, Y/N found herself sitting in her condo's parking lot one night, balling her eyes out while she played the songs of her favourite artist.

She couldn't believe that her best friend had used her body and taken advantage of her feelings for him. And to make matters worse, the girl has received nothing but silence from Pierre's side since that morning in his apartment.

Left alone with her own confused thoughts, Y/N's head was spinning. She didn't know what to do, what to think, or what to say.

I just want to get out of Milan and go home, she repeated over and over again.

Y/N had never chosen that town.

The young woman remembered every detail of the day when Pierre announced he was going to move to Italy, leaving France.

A life without Pierre was unimaginable for the girl. She couldn't remember a single day when she didn't know him, when she didn't have his presence in her life.

Feeling trapped, with no other option, she simply packed her bags and went with him.

She couldn't help but think what a huge mistake it had been to come after him, especially when he didn't seem to care about having her there at all.

Y/N picked up her phone, preparing to turn off the music that was blaring through the car to return home, but she was stopped by the sight of the image that decorated her lock screen.

It was from last year. Pierre and Y/N were wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters - like they did every year as a silly tradition - cuddled up on the couch in his parents' house. The lights from the tree reflected on them, creating a magical atmosphere around the two friends.

The girl affectionately touched her phone, as if it were his face. 

Although the idea of returning to France had been hovering in her head for a while, she knew that she couldn't decide to leave without talking to him first.

After all, he was the only one who could make her stay.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

As tears continued to pool in her sad eyes, Y/N opted to get out of her car, assuring that it was safely locked, and called a taxi to take her to the boy's house, since she wasn't in any condition to drive.

The drive was silent and short, just the typical 15 minutes it took her every time. The girl got out of the car, thanked the driver, and began to walk hurriedly towards the building. Her step was uneven and fast, revealing the girl's erratic and desperate state.

Y/N walked through the door of the building, politely greeting the doorman, and continued on her way towards the elevator.

She was only inside for a few minutes until she reached Pierre's floor, being immediately surprised by the loud sound of music coming from the door of the familiar apartment.

He's having a party, and he hasn't even invited me, she thought to herself.

While she suffered from his absence, Pierre was surrounded by anything but silence.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Y/N gained some courage and rang the doorbell, although she was afraid that no one would hear the sound in between the noise coming from the apartment's speakers.

However, seconds later, the driver appeared at the door, wide-eyed at the sight of his friend.

"Hey! Y/N!" Pierre smiled at her, without any sign that he had stopped to think about her during the days that had passed since the night of desire between the two of them. "I wasn't expecting you, come in!"

"Hmm..." The girl hesitantly entered the house and tried to pretend that everything was fine, not wanting to ruin the party. "I was nearby and decided to stop by."

"Oh, good!" Pierre replied, bringing his hand to the back of his neck as his eyes roamed the party full of other bodies. "We're just having a last-minute thing. You know, just a spontaneous hangout." He chuckled, clearly looking to get back to what he was doing before heading to the door.

"Yes, of course, Pierre 'spontaneous' Gasly." Y/N joked, in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere between the two. However, she only received the disinterest of Pierre, who clearly didn't find the joke funny.

"Look, I have to go. I was in the middle of something," Pierre looked back at her, pointing towards a person she immediately recognized. "But Charles is over there with Joris! You can go to them. We'll talk later, okay?"

Without even waiting for her answer, the Frenchman left. The girl's teary eyes followed his image until she saw him returning to his dark couch, where three gorgeous women were waiting for the driver, with hungry eyes on their faces.

The same fucking couch where he'd explored her body, millimetre by millimetre, marking her skin with his touch, days before.

"You know how he gets when he is hosting a party." Charles said, approaching the young woman when he noticed her presence alone in the room.

She shrugged, discreetly wiping the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "Yeah, well, my presence was always pointless here for him anyway."

Y/N turned to the Monegasque driver and hugged him tight, longer than usual. The man was caught off guard, taking a few seconds to return his longtime friend's hug, but he did so.

Charles couldn't help feeling that that hug meant something more to the girl, but he chose not to question it since it was apparent in her hurt look that something else was going on and he didn't want to intrude.

Y/N placed a friendly kiss on the boy's cheek, letting her hand rest on his cheek. Her gaze locked with his eyes and he swore he saw a tear fall down her cheek.

"Goodbye Charles." She forced a smile. "I will talk to you later, I love you." Y/N turned her back to her friend and walked out the door, without allowing the driver to respond.

Charles couldn't shake the feeling that this 'goodbye' wasn't just a 'see you later', but, blaming it on alcohol and his imagination, he returned to the party, without giving the matter any further thought.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

In a hurry and with tears flowing freely down her face, the girl returned home and placed all her belongings in suitcases and bags, without any care.

And with that, Y/N ran up and down the stairs of the building where she lived towards her car, filling the trunk and the back seats of the vehicle with everything she had in her small house.

For one last time, Y/N looked at the now lifeless apartment where she lived for the last few years and her heart felt tight, unable to hide the nostalgia that that place was going to leave her with.

She might not have been the happiest there in Milan, but her home had always been her refuge.

However, it was time for her to turn the page, burn the bridge, and finally return to her true home.

Sitting in the car, she took a deep breath and began her long, impulsive journey back to France. It was completely insane trying to make a trip lasting more than 10 hours, especially at that time of night, but the girl simply couldn't bear to stay there another minute.

When the sun started to reappear in the sky, illuminating the endless road with its orange and pink tones, Y/N realized that he hadn't stopped yet and decided to park at one of the available stations to rest.

However, the heartache and the feeling of betrayal still crushed her soul, so she sought refuge in the words of her best friend, Céline, who would certainly welcome her when she reached her destination.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Her sleepy tone soon revealed that she had been awakened by the call.

"I'm coming home, Cél." Y/N informed, sniffling her nose. "I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this. I gave it my all but I just couldn't take it anymore."

"What?" Y/N could hear the sound of the sheets and mattress moving on the other end of the line, imagining Céline suddenly sitting up on her bed. "Home? As in France? I don't understand, what happened? Talk to me."

"I'm just a dumb girl who thought the guy she loved for years was going to be her prince charming, coming to save her the perfect kiss." The young woman sobbed, with her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to hide the noise. "Instead, I was just treated like a fucking toy. He didn't even care to know how I felt after he slept with me."

"What? You and Pierre?" His friend questioned, shocked. "Oh my god, I never thought he would be capable of doing this to you. I don't even know what to say."

The two friends stayed for a long time talking, Céline being her usual attentive friend and listening to Y/N's outburst without interrupting her.

"Don't worry, girl. I'll be here with open arms to welcome you home." Cél tried to comfort her friend, making the girl in the car thank her for everything.

Y/N had no reason to be afraid when the people who really cared about her were waiting for her where she truly belonged.

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

The days passed and Pierre went on with his life as normal, not even noticing the girl's absence until Charles asked him about it.

The two were playing FIFA on their PlayStations when the Monegasque spoke. "Pierre, have you heard from Y/N lately?"

The Frenchman felt a wave of shock hit him as he realized he hadn't seen or heard from her since the night of the party when he'd rudely dismissed her.

"I don't know, mate... When I talked to her at the party, she didn't seem right." Charles expressed his concerns. "I've tried texting her, calling her. She doesn't answer me."

"It's probably not a big deal. She's probably just busy with something." Pierre pretended to be unconcerned, trying to convince himself more than his friend that it was just a misunderstanding.

"No, Pierre. You don't understand." The Monegasque insisted, persistent in solving the mystery. "When she said goodbye to me that night... I felt like it was goodbye, a real goodbye."

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

The word echoed in Pierre's head and regret filled him from head to toe, as he rose abruptly from the sofa.

"I have to go, Charles."

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this

The driver knocked insistently on the girl's door, almost as if his life depended on it.

"Y/N, please! Open the door!" Fists clenched against the wood, he begged for a chance to apologize.

Pierre knew now that he had acted wrongly with her.

For letting his desire for some release come between them. For using his friend for a night of passion when she was the most important person in his life. For giving her just something fleeting, something ephemeral when she deserved the world at her feet.

For ignoring the girl the morning after the best night in his life. For avoiding her the next few days when he should have run to her and confessed his feelings. For taking the easy way out and looking for comfort in other bodies when the only one he wanted by his side was her.

Pierre gave up knocking and let his back hit the door, sitting on the step. "I'm sorry. For everything. I beg you, give me a chance to tell you everything I should have said ages ago."

"Sorry, but are you looking for Y/N?" An old voice spoke, making the Frenchman look up at the person. "She doesn't live here anymore, young man."

"W- What- What do you mean?" Pierre stammered, feeling like he'd been doused in cold water.

"She left the apartment a few days ago. The landlord is already looking for someone to rent the place." The elderly lady informed him, setting down the groceries she was holding on the floor.

It was too late, he thought. I lost her, forever.

She approached him, placing a hand gently on the boy's shoulder, who now had his head between his hands.

"I'm sorry, but you're on your own, kid."

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

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thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

Can you write something in which Charles has a dream in which his father and Jules are alive? Perhaps Arthur, Carla, Pascale, Herve, Charles, and the reader (and Jules, if you will) gathered for a dinner party to celebrate Charles' world championship. (Charles stated in an interview prior to his father's illness that his greatest wish was for Charles to become a world champion.) As the evening progresses, Charles awakens and believes it will never come true. The reader then consoles him. Thanks❤

What if…?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: mentions of charles’ dad and of Jules.

a/n: yayy i finally posted something! I don’t feel too comfortable writing about the personal losses that Charles has been through but the anon that requested this sent the request in 12 times🥲 but i don’t think i will write something like this again…

It was gloomy and dark when you and Charles first touched down at the airport and headed to Monte Carlo, back home, both of you eager for a shower and a good night's sleep after the exhausting weekend, and past few months as a whole. The route back to your apartment in Monaco was silent and dull, Charles' hand clasping onto yours in the car while you faced a struggle to try to stay awake.

Fast forward a few hours, you could safely say that the situation hasn't differed much in terms of the aura and mood. Showers have been taken, clothes have been emptied out of suitcases and hung back in the closet. Dinner was eaten and now, there you sat on the couch with Charles right by your side.

The television was on, playing some French talkshow that was being used merely as background noise to kill the silence of the apartment. Charles was sprawled out on the length of the sofa, a cushion tucked behind his head, his phone in his hand, his thumb swiping up the screen every few seconds while tiktok sounds played and changed. You were curled up on the opposite end to him, finishing up a book you'd started a few days ago, on the plane to Abu Dhabi.

You were a few pages away from the end, but from the corner of your eye, you were seeing Charles getting sleepier by the second, yawning repeatedly and dozing off momentarily every once in a while, his phone leaning backwards in his hand every time his eyes drooped shut for a few seconds.

You sighed and closed your book, dropping it onto the couch and redirecting your attention towards your sleepy boyfriend. He was clearly exhausted, yearning to slip between the soft and warm bedsheets and just doze off but just like always, he refused to leave you alone in the evening, even when it was getting pretty late. Time and time again, he would tell you that he'd rather spend more time in your presence, even when each of you was preoccupied with something else.

With a tap onto your phone screen, you realized it wasn't that early in the evening anymore, so you might as well go to bed and get some much needed rest.

"Bébé..." you called for Charles who immediately gave you his attention, turning his head to face you with red, sleepy and tired eyes.

"C'mon, let's go to sleep." You suggested with a soft smile, "T'as l'air si ensommeillé." You seem to be very sleepy.

He nodded, a soft smile showing on his face, but he didn't make any effort to get up. Instead, he gestured for you to come closer, "Viens ici un peu." Come here a little. He asked you.

Like always, you couldn't help the way your heart beat faster and your eyes shone. You scooted closer to him and allowed him to pull you to lay on his chest. While his hands brushed your hair back, you nuzzled your face into his neck and allowed your eyes to shut for a second, the soft and comforting scent of himwrapping you in a bubble of love and safety, the warmth of his arms wrapping around you and resting on your back feeling like home.

"I know i was difficult to deal with during the season, so thank you for always supporting me, even when i was annoying about racing." He said to you, punctuating the heartfelt sentence and sealing it with a kiss on your temples.

At a loss of what to respond, you found yourself softly pecking his neck. Finishing second in the championship's drivers standings was amazing when taking into consideration the way the second half of the season played out but if someone had told you after the first few races that he'd have to battle for P2, you would've been in disbelief. Therefore, all in all, it had been a season of mixed emotions, of focusing mainly on the bright side of things and a lot of gentle whispered, comforting words that at some point started sounding like a replaying tape.

"Don't say that. It was the least I could do, and you weren't annoying or difficult; you were rightfully upset most times." You reassured, lifting your head to give him a haste kiss on the lips as he sighed, letting go of a heavy breath.

"Je t'aime." I love yous were exchanged were quietly exchanged before the two of you pulled yourselves up and headed to the bedroom, quickly slipping under the sheets and cuddling each other until sleep reigned over the room.

--

Cuddling Charles through the night was nothing new to neither of you. You loved the feeling of his arm around your back as you slept and he loved waking up with your head on his chest, therefore that had become your usual sleeping position, especially since his busy lifestyle often left the night as the only time you could connect with him without any disturbances getting in the way. Most times, it was amazing, getting to feel the other person's movements and breaths as they slept soundly, the simple interaction coming off as grounding and the ultimate human way to connect. You actually had a bit more to notice since Charles was someone who mumbled all sorts on nonsense when he's asleep. He wasn't a full on sleep talker but if you're listening, you would definitely be able to figure out what he was dreaming of at the time.

That night, you fell asleep with Charles brushing his fingers through your hair and woke up only a couple of hours later to soft mumbling leaving his mouth.

Groggily, you rolled onto your back, your hands instinctively rubbing your eyes as you tried to fully wake up and comprehend what had interrupted your sleep but silence had returned to the room and soon enough, it started lulling you back to sleep, the exhaustion from the past few days being a significant factor in how fast your eyes shut again.

However, it took only a few more seconds to wake up fully to the sound of barely coherent french.

"J'ai essayé tout..." I tried everything... That was all you could make out for a few seconds, the sounds quickly going back to quiet groans.

Confused, you sat up and turned the bedside lamp on, allowing the dim light to partially illuminate Charles' features. You could see a frown on his sleeping face as he moved slightly around the bed, as if in discomfort.

"Désolé." Sorry. He whispered again, his hand now rubbing at his face while he turned onto his side.

"Baby..." You softly spoke, cupping his face with a gentle hand, only to find it coated in a sheer layer of sweat.

With no response from Charles, you went for your second best option there. Your arms wrapped tightly around his body and even in his sleep, he hid his face in your neck.

For a second, you thought he was good, that it was just a quick bad dream but it was a moment later when you realized it wasn't just that.

"...la prochaine." ...the next one. He groaned, "Promis." Promise.

By then, you had caught onto the fact that he was dreaming of something related to racing and if the tension in his body and the expression of his face said anything, it was that he wasn't dreaming of something pleasant.

You let go of him and brushed back his hair while calling for him as he seemed to be mumbling his family's names barely coherently.

"Charles..." You called for him, sitting up and pushing away the blanket since he was sweating and breathing heavily. Repeatedly, you tried to wake him up, calling for him not too loudly as not to startle him all while your hands brushed through his hair and caressed his cheek.

"Non..." he was still groaning with an upset tone and at that point, it was sad and painful to have to hear him suffer through whatever he was dreaming of.

"Baby, c'mon wake up." You tried again, kissing his forehead.

Your patience was thinning since all your tries were failing but it wasn't until he let out a faint scream of an incoherent words that his name loudly left your lips and he quickly sat up, panting with his eyes shooting wide open.

"Are you okay?" Those words were the first thing to leave your mouth as you moved to kneel by his side.

For a second there, he still seemed confused, his face blank and his eyes lost, but through all of that obvious distortion, he nodded and fell back against the pillows, his hand covering his face.

"Reste ici," Stay here, you said even though he clearly wasn't going anywhere, "je t'apporte une tasse d'eau et je reviens." I will bring you a cup of water then i'll come back. You let him know and rushed off the bed to the kitchen, quickly filling up a cup with some cold water and joining him back in bed with just as much speed.

As soon as you were back beside him, he took the water and chugged it down quickly, disposed of it onto the bedside commode then pulled you closer to him.

The role were reversed and instead of you sleeping on his chest, you laid back on the bed and hugged him close until his body was partially on top of yours, his arm wrapped around your middle and his face hidden in the crook of your neck while you comforted him with slow rubs on his back and occasionally softly massaging his scalp. Short intervals separated deep sighs that Charles was letting out, showing that he was clearly still disturbed from the dream, rather nightmare.

"Bébé," you started, "ce n'était qu'un cauchemar." It was only a nightmare. You soothed, knowing that this was a safe ground to start from because it he wanted to talk about it, he now could and if he wasn't comfortable with that, shrugging this off was still on the table.

"I hated it." He whispered against the skin of your neck, "Tous le monde étaient là - ma famille et même la tienne - et ils parlaient tous du championnat." Everyone was here - my family and even yours - and they were all talking about the championship. Charles started explaining and you stayed quiet, hoping he would continue.

"Papa et Jules étaient déçus en moi." My dad and Jules were disappointed. He let that last part slip in a low, hesitant voice and went silent after it.

That's when you knew that was the nightmare part of the dream, the reason he was so shook and upset. It became clear that there wasn't anything else he was gonna say because that was the worst part of it all, every other detail becomes mostly irrelevant.

"Charles, baby... Do you actually believe they're disappointed in you? And don't answer this on impulse. Think about it for a second and tell me."

You heard a hesitant breath that he took, his mind clearly in conflict about the question, so you gave him the time to think.

Personally, you were proud of him. Everyone was more than proud of him and if he believed his dad and Jules wouldn't be, you would have to gladly show him all the reasons the truth was far from his personal beliefs about this. You would still hate it that he was disregarding all those reasons himself but you would make sure he saw them and weighed them out in comparison to all the negatives.

It was no secret to anyone how mentally draining this particular season was for him. You had been there for it all, the rage, the disbelief, the silence, the tears as well as the podiums, the celebrations and the wins. Therefore, it wouldn't be realistic to say you expected him to bounce back just like that, with no reminiscence or wondering about what could've been. He was human after all and people's expectations from him shouldn't be beyond that. The problem was that Charles' expectations from himself surpassed all the logical ones, what ultimately set him up with imminent disappointment when he realizes how he was sabotaging his mind.

"I don't think they're disappointed but i don't think they're that proud. When i become world champion, they will be." Charles broke the silence with those few words.

"Um..." you hummed, not exactly agreeing. "Sit up a little." With that, the two of you were sat in bed, him against the headboard while you sat with crossed legs by his side, facing him while he looked into the distance.

"I've seen you do this self destruction routine too many times these few months and i think it's about time someone told you this, Charles." You took his hand in yours, "You measure yourself as a whole on the racing scale when racing is just a part of you. Charles, you are way more than your career, way more that your racing results. You are a massively supportive brother, a caring and loving son, a lovable and trustworthy friend and an amazing, fairytale-like boyfriend. Wouldn't they be proud of that? Of you being such a good person?"

He turned to look at you, his lower lip tucked between his teeth as he bit onto it roughly, his eyes guarded while his grip on your hand tightened.

"And no, that doesn't mean your results for the season weren't good enough. You did amazing and you and me and most of your fans know that you're not the reason you didn't end up being a world champion this year. Being second in the driver's standings... Charles, that was all you! It was your own, personal effort and everyone knows it. You did your absolute fucking best, baby... and i don't know if it means much right now, but i really am so, so proud of you and, just like i know everyone else is feeling the same, i believe your dad and Jules would also feel proud." You tried to reassure him, and every word you said, you completely believed and hoped he would too.

Your eyes searched his face for any emotions and for a while, it looked like he was resisting them but then, under the dim lights of the room, his eyes glistened with a few tears that you barely caught a glimpse of because Charles pulled you to his chest, something in him urging to have you closer. His lips met yours in a quick kiss because he cuddled you close.

"Ça me signifie le monde que tu sois fière de moi." It means the world that you’re proud of me. He sniffled and said but from the restricted tone of his voice, you could tell that there was something else bugging him.

From your position between his arms, you noticed him gulp just before he leaned his head back against the headboard and heavily sighed.

"Charles," you sighed yourself, "what is it, bébé?" You asked and moved so his head was on your chest instead, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your hands tracing soothing patterns onto his back. Charles found comfort in the way you were hugging him close, the beat of your heart audible to him as it synced with the beat of his. His legs tangled with yours and he finally found himself partially relaxing, enough to talk comfortably about everything at least.

"It's just small questions - that i have - that are annoying, like what if i never become champion?" He spoke in a low tone, "Tu sais, il n'y a rien qui me garantit que je serra jamais champion." You know, there's nothing that makes it certain that i will ever be champion.

For a minute after that, you thought deeply about his words. There was nothing you wanted to do more than tell him that his dream will inevitably come true one day, but as he said, where is the guaranty? You'd spent the whole past year reassuring him that the championship was his to clinch, that it was only a matter of time before the biggest trophy is his but there was no denying that all of that was just wishful thinking. He definitely has the talent and skills for it but there was several other things that needed to be aligned in order for the dream to manifest itself.

You held him closer then, your lips pursed as you attempted to formulate a decent reply. He deserved the world, not only being it's formula one racing champion and if any of that was ever yours to offer and gift, you would've presented him everything, wrapped in golden ribbons and a few words that it was his to keep.

"I think you will be champion one day but if nothing goes right and that, god forbid, doesn't happen, i want you to remember the person you are outside of racing. You're already a hero - a champion - to so many. You're an inspiration and a motivation to so many of your fans and supporters. They value you as a person as well as a driver, they admire your talent and strength and will support you through anything. Everyone, including me, would love to see you lift the championship trophy and we all know you're capable of doing just that but even without that happening, we will always love you just the same and we will still be sure that you're a brilliant driver, just one with the worst luck. I believe your dad and Jules would be telling you the same thing as well, baby.” You spoke softly, your fingers brushing through his hair carefully as you ended your sentence with a kiss to his forehead.

Charles nodded and tightened his grip on you, “Mais je veux vraiment être un champion…” But i really wanna be a champion… He replied, the words muffled.

“Et je crois bien que tu le sera. Your time to shine will come, honey.” And i believe you will be.

With a heavy sigh and a tight hold, Charles quietly whispered to you that he love you, thanking you for you words as well, “Merci, bébé. Je t’aime fort.”

“Je t’aime même plus, Charles.” You kissed the top of his head lightly before relaxing and feeling Charles relax his body too.

You cuddled him until he fell back asleep, then allowed your eyes to shut.

You hated it so much when he had these doubts but not once will you ever let him go to sleep with his self esteem shaky. You would always be there to pull him back onto his feet and support and reassure him. You promised him that a long time ago and to this day, you were still happy to keep up the promise.

Hard Carry Masterlist

Summary: Y/n really doesn't have time for love. Debuting in Formula One at the young age of 17 before completely dominating the sport ever since, romance, had always been something that's never been on her top priority list. At least, that is, until a boy with green eyes and sweet smile appeared in her life.

or

in which a formula one legend herself caught some feelings towards Ferrari's newly crowned prince.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader

Table of contents

00. she's a star, she's the moment, she's y/n

01. it's 2018, baby!

02. down under

03.

04.

05.

06.

07.

smau!

00.

Masterlist:

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Upcoming Works

Ⓢ : smut | Ⓕ : fluff | Ⓐ : angst

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Man's World - Masterlist & Synopsis

Pairing: Female!Leclerc reader x Carlos Sainz Jr

Warnings: slow burn, eventual Smut, enemies to lovers

Rating: Mature

AN: Thought I’d finally start my own F1 fanfic! I’ve seen so many amazing writers recently and I love all your stories so I wanted to try my hand at something too! :) Comments and love appreciated - but please enjoy! Yay!

Synopsis

Bugatti have entered the F1 world – as the 11th Formula 1 team. With a goal of bringing equality to formula 1, CEO and Team Principal Isabelle Binotto, wife of the famous Ferrari Principal Mattia Binotto, has decided to bring a predominantly female team to the paddock- including two female drivers. 

Georgia Leclerc, twin sister of Charles Leclerc, is an obvious choice. As Indy Car’s first female champion and a winner of the 24 hours of Le Mans, Georgia has her sights set on one thing – the WDC. With an incredibly strong start to the season and a fantastic car, Georgia is front runner to win the 2022 WDC in her rookie season. 

The only problem? The press and sponsors find her brash, boring, and the opposite of her charming brother Charles. Regardless of her racing ability, sponsors are looking for F1’s “golden girl” who is all smiles. 

Bugatti need to continue to bring in the right sponsors so they can keep funding the team and proving that women can be apart of this man’s world.

Carlos Sainz Jr., Ferrari’s #2 driver, is having a rough start to the season. He’s DNF’d in several races and his partying and lavish lifestyle has gotten him some bad press. 

With sponsorship money on the line, both teams come up with one solution – fake a relationship between Georgia and Carlos with the hopes that the Sponsors will see the drivers in a new light. An easy task – if the drivers didn’t hate each other.

Surely Carlos’ suave and charming personality will rub off on Georgia, and maybe Georgia’s straight laced personality will encourage Carlos to party less and work more. 

———

Chapter 1 - Grin It and Bear It - 3200 Words

Chapter 2 - A Cold Day In Hell - 4800 Words 

Chapter 3 - It’s In My Nature - 4600 Words

Chapter 4 - Heat? I Eat Chili’s Raw -4100 Words

Chapter 5 - No Pole, No Problem. -6000 Words

Chapter 6 - A Losing Deck of Cards, Please - 4000 Words

Chapter 7* - Boys, Am I Right? -4500 Words

Chapter 8 - Track Fights Lead to Late Nights - 5700 Words

Chapter 9 - Never Underestimate Georgia Leclerc - 6500 Words 

Chapter 10 - Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Cold - 5300 Words

Chapter 11 - Can I offer you a hamster? - 5600 Words 

Chapter 12* - Three’s a Crown - 8800 Words 

Chapter 13 - If Looks Could Kill - 5500 Words 

Chapter 14* - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - 9000 Words

Chapter 15* - To Be or Not to Be - 6800 Words

Chapter 16 - Come Hell or High Water - 8700 Words

Chapter 17* - You Know What Happens When You Assume - 5000 Words 

Chapter 18 - The Lady Doth Protest Too Much - 4800 Words

Chapter 19* - I’d Like to Propose Something - 6000 Words

Chapter 20 - Curiosity Killed the Cat - 4900 Words 

Chapter 21 - Cat got your tongue?  

Chapter 22 - From Georgia, With Love - 5300 Words

Chapter 23 - Start of Something New (Finale!) - 5900 Words

Chapter 23 in case you can’t see the chapter link above due to community content settings changes in Tumblr

NEW: Epilogue - 6700 Words [10/4]

One Shots

NEW: I Am A Lion - Oct 11th - 4800 Words

Hear Me Roar - Part 2/2 - coming November! 

Mini blurb for 1k Sleepover -> LINK