Allsouls-emma - Emma - Tumblr Blog

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Hey girll!! It's been quite some time since you last updated or posted something and I just wanna ask if everything is okay and if we are getting any amazing new stories soon. Lots of love!

Hi! Everything is all good, the past few days have been a whirlwind as I received my school leaver exam results and now waiting for college acceptance and whatnot. To tell the truth it been a busy week, Life just gets busy.

Thank you for your concern x

Hey!!! I just had an idea for a Leon fanfic! Could you maybe write a fanfic x y/n based on the song ‘boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron if you know the song! If not it’s fine !!! 💖💖

✧I could be such a gentleman✧

─ Léon Marchand x OC, Léon Marchand x Reader

Hello Anon, thank you for your ask! I listened to the song on loop when writing haha! It was very original thank you x

Warnings: friends to lovers, based on ‘boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron, fluff, no establishment plot :)

Enjoy!

---

The pool had always been your sanctuary, a place where you could lose yourself in the rhythm of your strokes, the water wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. But lately, it had become something else—something more charged, more alive. And that had everything to do with Léon Marchand.

You and Léon had been friends for as long as you could remember. You were both competitive swimmers, always pushing each other to go faster, to be better. You had a bond that others admired, one built on mutual respect and an understanding that only came from hours spent in the water together.

But recently, you had begun to notice things that you hadn’t before—like how the sunlight glinted off his wet skin as he climbed out of the pool, or how his laughter, deep and resonant, made your heart skip a beat. You noticed the way his eyes lingered on you just a bit longer than they used to, and how he always seemed to find a reason to stand close, his arm brushing against yours.

Today was no different, and yet, everything felt different. You stood at the edge of the pool, towel draped over your shoulders, watching Léon as he finished his laps. His movements were fluid, effortless, the water parting for him as if it knew he belonged there. You couldn’t help but admire him, not just for his skill but for the way he carried himself—confident, but never arrogant.

As he reached the wall and lifted himself out of the pool, your breath caught in your throat. The way his muscles rippled under his skin, the way he ran a hand through his wet hair—it was almost too much. You quickly averted your gaze, but not before he caught you staring.

“Enjoying the view?” Léon teased, his voice warm and slightly breathless as he reached for his towel.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, and you forced yourself to meet his eyes. “Just making sure you’re not slacking off,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone light.

He laughed, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “I wouldn’t dream of it, especially with you watching.”

There it was again, that hint of something more in his voice. It was enough to make your pulse quicken, but you pushed the feeling down, reminding yourself that this was Léon—your friend, your training partner. Anything else was just…complicated.

But Léon wasn’t making it easy. He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the droplets of water still clinging to his skin, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body despite the cool air.

“You know,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About us.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to read his expression, but Léon was always good at keeping his emotions in check. Still, there was something in his gaze that made your breath hitch—a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen before.

“Us?” you echoed, trying to keep your voice steady. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Y/N. I want something more.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. This was what you had been both hoping for and dreading—because as much as you had thought about what it would be like to be with Léon, you were terrified of what it could mean. What if it ruined everything? What if you lost the one person who knew you better than anyone else?

“Léon…” You started, but he held up a hand, cutting you off.

“Just hear me out,” he said, his voice urgent, as if he was afraid that if you didn’t let him finish, he might lose his nerve. “I know it’s a lot to take in, and I don’t want to mess things up between us. But I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel something more for you.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “What if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if we ruin everything?”

Léon’s expression softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch was light, tentative, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. “What if it does work out?” he countered gently. “What if we’re missing out on something amazing because we’re too scared to take the chance?”

His words hung in the air, full of promise and hope. You wanted to believe him, but the fear of losing him, of losing what you already had, held you back.

“Y/N, I could be a better boyfriend than anyone else,” Léon said, his voice steady, his eyes never leaving yours. “I know you, and I know how to make you happy. I’d never take you for granted, never hurt you. I’d be there for you, always.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, at the raw emotion in his eyes. This was Léon, the same person who had been by your side through everything, who had seen you at your best and your worst. The idea of losing him was unbearable, but so was the thought of never knowing what it could be like to be with him.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you, your hand slipping into his. “I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I don’t want to lose you either.”

Léon’s eyes softened, and he squeezed your hand, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not going to lose me,” he promised, his voice full of conviction. “We’ll figure this out together.”

And in that moment, as he looked at you with such tenderness, such certainty, you realized that maybe this was worth the risk. Maybe Léon was right—maybe what you could have together was something extraordinary.

With a deep breath, you stepped closer, your free hand resting on his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. “Let’s do this.”

Léon’s smile widened, relief flooding his features as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and you felt a sense of peace wash over you. This was right—this was where you were meant to be.

As you stood there, wrapped in Léon’s arms, you knew that this was just the beginning. There would be challenges, there would be moments of doubt, but you also knew that you would face them together. Because with Léon, you weren’t just taking a risk—you were taking a chance on something real, something that could last.

And as he pulled back to look at you, his eyes full of warmth and affection, you knew that you’d made the right choice. This was more than just friendship—this was the start of something beautiful.

---

**The End.**

heyy bestie!! i noticed you’re also an f1 fan (as am i) i was wondering if you could write an f1 driver reader! x leon marchand! preferably a ferrari driver (forza ferrari always)🤞

✧Scarlett Red in a Ferrari ✧

─ Léon Marchand x OC, Léon Marchand x Reader, f1 driver reader! x leon marchand!

OMG OMG @scottstr3et, I AM SO EXCITED. I adore F1 (Mclaren Girlie at heart) this was so much fun!! i really hope you love this as much as i did!.

Warnings: f1 driver reader! x leon marchand!, Strangers to lovers, silverstone, F1 and swimming crossover, Fluff!

The roar of the Ferrari engine was a symphony Y/N had dreamt about for years. Every twist and turn of the Maranello track felt surreal, as if they were floating on a cloud made of horsepower and adrenaline. This was their first official day as a Ferrari driver—a dream so vivid it felt almost tangible, like the very wheel they were gripping.

"Y/N, how’s the car feeling?" the engineer's voice crackled through the radio, breaking their reverie.

Y/N's heart pounded in sync with the engine. "It’s responsive, stable... feels perfect. Ready to push it."

"Copy that. Let's get you warmed up with a few laps."

Y/N pressed down on the accelerator, feeling the immense power surge through the car as they exited the pit lane. The sensation was overwhelming—an intoxicating blend of fear, excitement, and sheer determination. The car danced through the corners, gripping the asphalt with ease. Every vibration through the steering wheel communicated the car's every nuance, and Y/N responded instinctively, as if the car was an extension of their body.

But with the thrill came pressure. Driving for Ferrari wasn't just about skill; it was about legacy, and Y/N knew the weight of that responsibility. The team was expecting results. The Tifosi—Ferrari's passionate fanbase—were expecting miracles.

As Y/N completed the first few laps, the rhythm started to set in, nerves slowly morphing into confidence. It was during the cool-down lap that the thought crept in—could they really do this? Compete at the highest level, under the brightest spotlight?

"Good job, Y/N. Bring it back to the pits," the engineer's voice instructed, breaking through their thoughts.

Y/N eased off the throttle, guiding the car back into the pit lane. After parking and stepping out, the intense heat from the car mixed with the cool Maranello air, creating a strange but comforting sensation. The team was gathered around, checking data, and analyzing every second of the run.

Y/N took off their helmet, running a hand through sweat-dampened hair. The sight of the Ferrari crew bustling about with purpose made their heart swell with pride. They were really here.

"Solid run out there," the team principal said, clapping Y/N on the shoulder. "We’ll go over the data, but things are looking promising."

"Thanks," Y/N replied, trying to keep their voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through them.

As they walked away from the car, the reality of their new life started to settle in. This was just the beginning of a grueling season—one that would test them mentally, physically, and emotionally. But Y/N was ready to face it head-on. After all, this was their dream.

The season opener in Bahrain was fast approaching, and Y/N was putting in extra hours at the simulator, fine-tuning their understanding of the car. The Ferrari hospitality suite buzzed with activity as preparations were in full swing, but Y/N's focus was singular.

"You're going to wear yourself out before the race even starts," a familiar voice teased.

Y/N turned around to find Charles Leclerc leaning casually against the doorway, a small smirk playing on his lips. The Monegasque driver had been with Ferrari for a few seasons now, and his presence in the team was both comforting and challenging—a benchmark to measure oneself against.

"Just making sure I’m as prepared as possible," Y/N replied with a smile. "Can’t leave anything to chance."

Charles chuckled. "Smart, but don’t forget to live a little. The season is long, and you need to find balance."

Y/N nodded, appreciating the advice. "What about you? How do you find that balance?"

Charles shrugged. "I go home, spend time with family, or just do something completely unrelated to racing. It helps keep the mind fresh. You should try it."

Y/N knew he was right. The pressure of being a Ferrari driver was immense, and they needed to find a way to manage it without burning out.

"Actually," Charles continued, "there’s a swimming event this weekend in Monaco. I know you're new to the team, but you should come. A lot of the drivers are going, and it could be a good way to unwind before the chaos starts."

Y/N hesitated. Swimming events weren’t really their scene, but the idea of taking a break and bonding with other drivers was appealing. Plus, Charles had a point—getting out of the racing mindset, even briefly, could be beneficial.

"Alright, I’m in," Y/N finally agreed.

"Great. It’ll be fun, I promise," Charles said with a grin. "And who knows, you might meet some interesting people."

---

That weekend, Y/N found themselves in Monaco, surrounded by a different kind of athlete. The energy was more relaxed, yet still competitive. The event was packed, with the audience buzzing as swimmers took to the pool. Y/N was impressed by the sheer physicality of the sport, the way the swimmers cut through the water with such grace and power.

Charles had been right—this was exactly the kind of break they needed.

"Hey, you made it!" Charles said, walking up to Y/N with a drink in hand.

"Yeah, you were right. This is a nice change of pace," Y/N replied, watching as the next race started.

As they were talking, a swimmer emerged from the pool, his dark hair slicked back and water dripping off his muscular frame. He pulled off his cap and goggles, revealing a strikingly handsome face, his intense blue eyes scanning the crowd. There was something magnetic about him, a confidence in the way he carried himself that caught Y/N's attention.

"That’s Leon Marchand," Charles said, noticing Y/N's gaze. "He’s one of the top swimmers in the world right now. Won a bunch of medals already."

Y/N nodded, trying to appear nonchalant. "He looks like he was born for this."

"He probably was," Charles replied with a chuckle. "Come on, I’ll introduce you."

They made their way over to where Leon was toweling off, the crowd around them buzzing with excitement. When Charles approached, Leon looked up, a friendly smile breaking through his focused expression.

"Hey, Charles! Good to see you," Leon said, his voice warm despite the exhaustion of the race.

"Leon, this is Y/N. They’re new to Ferrari this year," Charles introduced them with a casual wave.

Y/N extended a hand, trying to ignore the sudden flutter of nerves. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Leon replied, his handshake firm but not overpowering. His eyes lingered on Y/N's for a moment, and there was a spark of recognition, like he was trying to place them.

"You did great out there," Y/N said, trying to fill the silence.

"Thanks. I’ve been putting in a lot of work lately. You’re with Ferrari, right? That must be intense."

Y/N nodded, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under Leon's gaze. "Yeah, it’s been a lot, but I’m ready for the challenge."

"I’m sure you are," Leon replied, his smile widening slightly. "It’s not every day you meet someone who drives at 300 kilometers an hour for a living."

"Well, it’s not every day you meet someone who swims like a dolphin," Y/N shot back, surprising themselves with their quick wit.

Leon laughed, a genuine sound that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "Touché."

As the conversation continued, Y/N found themselves drawn to Leon’s easygoing nature and the way he seemed genuinely interested in their world. They talked about the pressures of their respective sports, the rigorous training schedules, and the sacrifices they had to make to stay on top. There was an understanding between them that transcended words—a shared recognition of what it meant to be the best in your field.

When the evening wound down and the crowd began to disperse, Leon turned to Y/N, his expression softening. "I’m glad we met today. Maybe we could hang out sometime, when we’re not both in the middle of our crazy schedules?"

Y/N felt a warmth spread through them at the invitation. "I’d like that."

As they exchanged numbers and said their goodbyes, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like something significant had just begun. Maybe Charles was right—finding balance didn’t mean stepping away from the competition; it meant finding someone who understood it just as much as you did.

The weeks following their encounter with Leon were a whirlwind. The F1 season kicked off with a bang, and Y/N was thrust into the chaos of race weekends, media commitments, and constant travel. Yet, amidst the frenzy, there was a constant thought that kept them grounded—Leon.

They’d texted sporadically at first, brief conversations about their respective sports and the occasional joke. But as the races piled up and the pressures mounted, those texts became a lifeline for Y/N. Leon had a way of making them laugh, even on the toughest days, and his encouragement was a steady source of support.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves looking forward to hearing from him, their conversations becoming more frequent and personal. They’d talk late into the night, sharing stories about their childhoods, their dreams, and their fears. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing day, even though they hadn’t seen each other in person since that day in Monaco.

One evening, after a particularly grueling race in Spain where Y/N finished just off the podium, they found themselves alone in their hotel room, scrolling through messages when Leon’s name popped up on the screen.

**Leon:** Tough race today. You did well, though. P4 is still a great result. You should be proud.

Y/N smiled at the message, the frustration of missing out on the podium slightly easing as they typed back a reply.

**Y/N:** Thanks, Leon. It’s tough to come so close, but yeah, I’ll take it. How’s training going for you?

**Leon:** Intense as always, but I’m getting there. Actually, I’ve got a bit of a break coming up next weekend. What’s your next race?

**Y/N:** Silverstone. Big one. The British fans are something else.

**Leon:** Sounds amazing. Would you mind some company?

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. The thought of having Leon at Silverstone, cheering them on, filled them with a warmth they hadn’t felt in a long time.

**Y/N:** I’d love that. It’ll be chaotic, but having you there would be awesome.

**Leon:** It’s a date, then. I’ll be your personal cheerleader.

Y/N grinned at the message, their mind already racing ahead to what it would be like to have Leon there. The idea of him being in the crowd, supporting them, made the upcoming race feel even more significant.

---

Silverstone was electric. The air buzzed with excitement as the fans poured into the stands, draped in the Union Jack, chanting for their favorite drivers. For Y/N, this race felt different. The pressure was there, of course, but it was accompanied by a sense of anticipation they hadn’t felt before.

Leon arrived on Saturday, just in time for qualifying. Y/N met him in the Ferrari hospitality suite, and as soon as they saw him, they couldn’t help but smile. He looked relaxed, dressed casually in a polo shirt and jeans, but his presence had an immediate calming effect on Y/N.

"Hey, you made it!" Y/N said, pulling him into a quick, but warm hug.

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world," Leon replied, his smile just as bright as Y/N’s. "This place is insane. I’ve never seen anything like it."

"It’s definitely a different kind of crazy," Y/N laughed. "Come on, let me show you around."

They spent the next hour exploring the paddock, with Y/N introducing Leon to various team members and fellow drivers. Leon was a hit—his easygoing nature and genuine interest in the sport winning everyone over. Y/N could tell he was fascinated by the intricacies of F1, asking questions about the car setups, race strategies, and what it felt like to drive at such high speeds.

When it was time for qualifying, Leon took his seat in the Ferrari suite, watching intently as Y/N climbed into the car. The qualifying session was intense, with Y/N pushing the car to its limits around Silverstone’s fast, flowing corners. The roar of the crowd was deafening as Y/N crossed the line, securing P2 for the race.

Afterward, Y/N found Leon waiting for them, a proud smile on his face. "P2! You were incredible out there!"

"Thanks, but it’s only half the job," Y/N replied, still buzzing from the session. "Tomorrow’s the real test."

"You’ve got this," Leon said, his confidence in Y/N unwavering. "I’ll be cheering you on the whole way."

Y/N felt a surge of emotion at his words. Leon’s belief in them was like a shot of adrenaline, fueling their determination to deliver on race day.

---

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, the perfect day for racing. The atmosphere at Silverstone was electric, with over a hundred thousand fans packed into the grandstands, their cheers echoing around the historic circuit.

Y/N felt a mixture of nerves and excitement as they prepared for the race. They could feel the energy in the air, the sense that something special was about to happen. And knowing Leon was there, watching, only intensified those feelings.

As the race began, Y/N got off to a strong start, maintaining their position in the top three. The battle for the lead was fierce, with every lap pushing the drivers to their limits. The corners flew by in a blur, the roar of the engine drowning out everything else.

Leon watched from the suite, his heart pounding as Y/N fought for every inch on the track. He’d never experienced anything like this before—the sheer speed, the danger, the skill it took to control such a powerful machine. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

As the race entered its final stages, Y/N found themselves in a tight battle for the lead. The car ahead was fast, but Y/N was faster, and with a few laps to go, they made their move, diving down the inside at Stowe corner to take the lead.

The crowd erupted as Y/N crossed the line in first place, the checkered flag waving them home. It was a moment of pure elation, a victory that meant the world to them.

After parking the car and jumping out, Y/N was greeted by their team, hugs and cheers all around. But it was Leon they sought out first, their eyes scanning the crowd until they found him making his way through the throng of people.

As soon as their eyes met, Y/N broke into a run, their heart pounding with joy. Leon caught them as they reached him, pulling them into a tight embrace. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in that moment of pure happiness.

"You did it!" Leon exclaimed, his voice full of pride and emotion.

"I couldn’t have done it without you," Y/N replied, their voice thick with emotion. The adrenaline of the race was still coursing through them, but it was mixed with something else—a deep, overwhelming feeling for the man standing in front of them.

Without thinking, Y/N leaned in, capturing Leon’s lips in a kiss. It was spontaneous, driven by the rush of victory and the connection they’d been building over the past few weeks. The kiss was brief but intense, a moment of pure passion that took them both by surprise.

When they pulled back, Y/N saw the surprise in Leon’s eyes, but also something else—something that mirrored the emotions they were feeling.

"Wow," Leon whispered, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "That was... unexpected."

Y/N laughed, their heart swelling with affection. "Sorry, I just... I couldn’t help it."

"Don’t apologize," Leon said, his hand cupping Y/N’s cheek. "I’m glad you did."

Before they could say anything more, the team was calling for Y/N to head to the podium. Y/N looked back at Leon, their eyes locking once more.

"Stay close, okay? I want you to be there when I get off the podium."

"I’ll be right here," Leon promised, his smile warm and reassuring.

With one last squeeze of Leon’s hand, Y/N turned and headed toward the podium, the cheers of the crowd ringing in their ears. As they stepped onto the top step, the weight of the moment hit them—the culmination of all their hard work, their dreams, and the support of the people who believed in them.

And as the national anthem played and the champagne flowed, Y/N’s thoughts were with Leon. They knew this was just the beginning of something incredible, both on and off the track.

When the podium celebrations were over, Y/N quickly made their way back to Leon, who was waiting just where he’d promised. Without a word, Y/N pulled him into another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate, a promise of what was to come.

As they finally pulled away, Y/N rested their forehead against Leon’s, their smiles mirroring each other.

"Looks like I’ve got another reason to love racing," Y/N said softly.

Leon chuckled, his eyes shining with happiness. "And I’ve got a new favorite driver."

Together, they walked away from the podium, hand in hand, ready to face whatever the future held.

Could you please write a Leon x Reader where they are celebrating the closing ceremony together? Especially highlighting his opportunity to extinguish the Olympic Cauldron. Thank you! He looked so hot in a suit. Woo! 🥵 The gardens were the perfect romantic setting too. Love that you are writing for him.

✧The Final Flame ✧

─ Léon Marchand x OC, Léon Marchand x Reader

Hey Anon, I hope enjoyed the closing ceremony as much as i did! i must admit i will miss the Paris Olympics A LOT! Enjoy x

Warnings: Established relationship, recount of events displayed on tv, inaccurate time frame ( some say Léon is still walking)

Enjoy!

The stadium roared with applause, the electric atmosphere of the closing ceremony reverberating through the crowd. You stood amidst the excitement, eyes locked on the center stage where the star of the evening was about to make his appearance. Léon Marchand, the golden boy of the games, was moments away from performing one of the most symbolic acts of the night—extinguishing the Olympic Cauldron.

As the crowd quieted, a spotlight illuminated Léon. He stood there, looking effortlessly dashing in a perfectly tailored suit that accentuated his athletic build. His usually tousled hair was neatly styled, but there was still a hint of that carefree charm that made him so captivating. The suit, a deep navy that contrasted perfectly with the flames behind him, made him look every bit the hero of the evening.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and admiration as he took the stage, the weight of the moment clear in his focused expression. He had already captured the hearts of millions with his record-breaking swims, but tonight, it was his presence, his calm poise, that held everyone’s attention.

The final speaker’s words echoed through the stadium, a reminder of the incredible feats achieved over the past weeks. Then, the moment arrived. Léon was handed the ceremonial torch, its flame a symbol of passion, perseverance, and unity. The crowd hushed, all eyes on him as he approached the cauldron.

You held your breath as he paused for just a moment, his gaze flickering over the crowd before landing on you. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips—one that only you would notice. It was a smile that spoke of shared memories, of countless hours of training, of every moment leading up to this one. Your heart swelled with emotion, knowing how much this meant to him.

With a steady hand, Léon tilted the torch towards the cauldron. The flames that had burned so brightly throughout the games began to flicker and fade, the light dimming until it was finally extinguished. The crowd erupted into applause, but Léon remained still for a moment, letting the gravity of the act settle over him.

He turned to face the audience, the applause growing louder, but his eyes sought you out in the crowd. Even in this moment of triumph, he was grounded, his thoughts always returning to you. As the applause began to fade, he stepped down from the platform and made his way towards you.

When he finally reached you, the noise of the crowd seemed to fade away. His hand found yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you both in the present. He leaned in, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"Thank you for being here," he murmured, his eyes soft with affection.

"You were incredible," you whispered back, squeezing his hand. "I'm so proud of you."

He smiled, that same boyish grin that had won your heart so long ago. "Let's get out of here," he said, nodding towards a quieter exit away from the press and the crowd. "I want to celebrate with you."

As you slipped away from the stadium together, the weight of the ceremony gave way to a sense of relief and joy. Tonight was just the beginning of new memories with Léon, and you couldn’t wait to see what the future held for both of you.

hey! love your leon writing, it’s really great to read. thank you for your work, keep it up!

i was also hoping you could write a something with a gymnast!reader where she’s seen him compete and vise versa. thanks <3

✧Partners in Performance ✧

─ Léon Marchand x OC, Léon Marchand x Reader

Hi Anon, Thank you lots and lots for your ask, super cool idea to mix gymnastics into the mix with Léon !

Warnings: Established relationship, I haven't been to the village nor events in the Olympics (Paris '24), not fluent in French, Fluff!

---

Y/N tightened the straps on their gymnastics grips, their focus sharp as they prepared for their next routine. The gym was filled with the familiar sounds of chalky hands clapping and the rhythmic pounding of feet on the mats. It was competition day, and the energy was palpable.

But Y/N’s thoughts weren’t entirely on the upcoming performance. Instead, their mind kept drifting to the tall, curly-haired swimmer who was probably wrapping up his own practice at the pool. Léon Marchand, the rising star of French swimming, had been a constant presence in Y/N’s life, both as a competitor and as something more.

They had met at a sports camp two years ago, each working tirelessly to refine their craft. What started as a friendship rooted in mutual respect quickly blossomed into something deeper. They understood each other in a way few others could—how the pressure of competition could weigh heavily, how victories were both exhilarating and fleeting, and how the grind never really stopped.

“Ready?” Their coach’s voice pulled Y/N out of their thoughts.

“Ready,” Y/N replied with a nod, rolling their shoulders back and taking a deep breath. This was their moment.

The announcer called their name, and Y/N stepped onto the floor, the apparatus shining under the bright lights. The music started, and with it, Y/N’s routine—a carefully choreographed blend of strength, grace, and precision.

They flowed through the movements, each leap, turn, and flip executed with a combination of power and elegance. As they completed their final tumbling pass, landing with a controlled but firm stance, the crowd erupted into applause. Y/N smiled, their heart racing with the thrill of nailing the routine.

After saluting the judges, Y/N jogged off the floor, a sense of accomplishment washing over them. As they grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from their brow, their phone buzzed in their gym bag. They fished it out and saw a message from Léon.

**Léon**: *J’ai vu ta performance en direct. Incroyable, comme toujours.*

(I watched your performance live. Incredible, as always.)

Y/N’s smile widened, warmth spreading through them. Léon had always been their biggest fan, even when he couldn’t be there in person. They quickly typed back.

**Y/N**: *Merci, mon amour. J’aurais aimé que tu sois ici, mais savoir que tu regardes, c’est presque aussi bien.*

(Thank you, my love. I wish you were here, but knowing you’re watching is almost as good.)

There wasn’t much time to bask in the moment, though. The rest of the competition still loomed, but Y/N felt a renewed sense of determination. They weren’t just performing for themselves; they were doing it for Léon too.

---

Later that evening, after the competition had wrapped up and Y/N had collected their medal—a hard-earned silver—they finally had a chance to unwind. The hotel room was quiet, and as they settled into bed, their phone buzzed again. It was a video call from Léon.

Y/N answered immediately, and there he was—his handsome face filling the screen, eyes bright with pride.

“Salut, championne,” Léon greeted, his voice warm and full of affection.

“Salut, champion,” Y/N replied, feeling a flutter in their chest. “How was practice?”

“Tough,” Léon admitted, running a hand through his damp curls. “But nothing compared to what you just did. I watched your entire routine, Y/N. You were amazing.”

Y/N blushed slightly, still getting used to the way Léon’s compliments made their heart race. “Thank you. I wish you could have been there.”

“Me too,” he said, his expression softening. “But soon, we’ll both be competing in the same city. I can’t wait for that.”

“Neither can I,” Y/N agreed. “I miss watching you swim in person. Videos don’t do it justice.”

Léon chuckled. “Well, I’ve got a big meet coming up. Maybe you could come watch?”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “I’d love that. What’s the meet?”

“It’s in a few weeks, actually,” Léon said. “The nationals. I’ve been training hard for it.”

“I’ll be there,” Y/N promised. “Front row, cheering you on.”

Léon’s smile was radiant. “Knowing you’ll be there makes it even better.”

They talked for a while longer, sharing details about their training and upcoming competitions, each finding comfort in the other’s voice despite the miles between them.

---

When the day of Léon’s big meet finally arrived, Y/N was in the stands, heart pounding with anticipation. The aquatic center was buzzing with excitement as swimmers warmed up and spectators filled the seats.

When Léon’s event was called, Y/N’s breath caught in their throat. They had seen him swim countless times before, but it never ceased to amaze them. The way he moved through the water was almost otherworldly, each stroke powerful and fluid.

As the race began, Y/N leaned forward in their seat, eyes glued to the pool. Léon surged ahead, his movements precise and controlled, and Y/N’s heart swelled with pride. When he touched the wall and the scoreboard flashed his time—first place—Y/N jumped to their feet, cheering loudly.

Léon looked up into the stands, and when his eyes found Y/N, his face broke into a wide grin. He pointed up at them, a silent acknowledgment that this victory, like so many others, was shared.

After the medals were awarded, Léon found Y/N in the crowd, pulling them into a tight embrace despite the fact that he was still dripping wet.

“You were incredible,” Y/N said, their voice muffled against his chest.

“Only because you were here,” Léon replied, pressing a kiss to their temple. “I told you, didn’t I? We’re better together.”

Y/N laughed softly, looking up at him. “Yeah, we are.”

As they walked out of the aquatic center hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that, no matter where their sports took them, as long as they had each other, they would always find a way to shine.

Hey lovely!!!!! Let me say that I am so thankful that you write for Leon and that I loooooooooove your stories so for! Could I send in a request? Maybe where Y/n (French if possible cause I am also French) joins him in the US and they move in together after sometime doing long distance? And just super fluffy!!! No rush though! Take care of yourself!!!! ♥️♥️♥️

✧Reunis pour Toujours ✧

─ Léon Marchand x OC, Léon Marchand x Reader

@frenchgirlinlondon Bonjour ! I hope this lives up to expectation, merci my darling.

warnings: established couple, not fluent in French, fluff!!, no use of time nor setting.

It had been a year since Léon had left France for the U.S., chasing his dream of swimming glory at Arizona State University. The long-distance had been tough, with late-night FaceTime calls and endless texts, but nothing could replace the warmth of being together.

Today, that was finally going to change.

Y/N looked out the window of the taxi as it pulled up to Léon’s apartment complex in Tempe, Arizona. The sun was shining brightly, and palm trees lined the street—a stark contrast to the familiar Parisian boulevards. The moment the car stopped, Y/N felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was it. A new chapter in their relationship.

Y/N stepped out of the taxi, pulling a suitcase along. The door to Léon’s building opened almost instantly, and there he was—tall, broad-shouldered, with that familiar mop of curly hair and a smile that could light up the darkest of days.

“Mon amour!” Léon called out, rushing down the steps. He wrapped Y/N in a tight embrace, lifting them slightly off the ground.

“Léon!” Y/N laughed, burying their face in his neck, taking in the scent they had missed so much. “Je t’ai tellement manqué,” they whispered, their voice muffled against his skin.

“Tu n’imagines même pas,” he replied, pulling back slightly to look at them. His brown eyes were filled with a mixture of love and relief. “Finally, no more time zones, no more screens between us.”

Y/N smiled, their eyes welling up with happy tears. “Je suis tellement heureuse d’être ici, avec toi.”

Léon kissed them gently on the forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Moi aussi. Let’s get you inside, I can’t wait to show you our place.”

Together, they carried Y/N’s suitcase up the stairs. Léon opened the door to his apartment—a cozy space filled with a mix of modern furniture and personal touches. On the wall was a photo collage, mostly of the two of them—memories from France and moments from Léon’s life in the U.S.

“Welcome home,” Léon said softly, watching as Y/N took in the room.

“Our home,” Y/N corrected, smiling at him. They placed their suitcase by the door and walked over to the couch, where Léon had laid out a few of their favorite snacks from France—a thoughtful gesture that made Y/N’s heart swell.

They sat down together, Léon’s arm draped around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling them close. “This feels surreal,” Y/N said, their voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” Léon agreed, his fingers gently playing with Y/N’s hair. “But it’s real. We’re here. Together.”

Y/N turned to look at him, their faces just inches apart. “What do we do now?”

Léon grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to their lips. “Now, we make this place ours. We create new memories, explore this city, and just… be together.”

Y/N nodded, a smile tugging at their lips. “J’aime ça.”

They spent the rest of the day unpacking, Léon showing Y/N around the apartment. The kitchen had a small dining table with two chairs, perfect for cozy breakfasts. The living room had a large window that let in plenty of natural light, and the bedroom was simple yet comfortable, with a queen-sized bed that looked like it had been made with care.

“C’est parfait,” Y/N said as they walked into the bedroom, running their hand over the soft bedspread. Léon came up behind them, wrapping his arms around their waist.

“I’m glad you think so,” he murmured, resting his chin on their shoulder. “Because I want this to be our space, where we can relax after a long day, where we can just be ourselves.”

Y/N turned in his arms to face him, their hands resting on his chest. “I’m so happy to be here with you, Léon. I know it was hard being apart, but it made this moment even more special.”

Léon smiled, leaning down to kiss them softly. “Every second was worth it if it brought us to this moment.”

They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, savoring the feeling of finally being together after so long. The challenges of long-distance seemed like a distant memory now that they were in each other’s arms.

As the day turned into evening, they curled up on the couch together, a soft blanket draped over them. Léon had his arm around Y/N, their head resting on his shoulder as they watched a movie. But more than the movie, Y/N was focused on the steady rhythm of Léon’s breathing, the warmth of his body next to theirs.

“Je t’aime,” Y/N whispered, looking up at him.

Léon smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to their forehead. “Je t’aime aussi, pour toujours.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was perfect. They were together, and nothing else mattered.

As they drifted off to sleep that night, Léon holding Y/N close, they both knew that this was just the beginning of their new life together. No more distance, no more longing—just endless days of love and happiness.

Please please never stop writing about leon you are literally the best out there and we cannot afford to lose you!!

Hahaha! I am still writing, there is just so many asks. Don’t fear I’m just playing catch up.

do you write for other athletes besides leon?

I’m up for writing about anybody, given the time, drop an ask and you shall receive x

Cannot express how happy I am that people are enjoying the fics and still submitting asks. I would lying if I didn’t think they would stop after the Olympics but their continuing to grow!!

Much love,

Emma x

my one of my favourite things about ur fics (other than the incredible writing!) is that before all of them you always write that you have no knowledge of swimming or the olympic village or whatever that fic's about. its just so real

also i just wanted to say i absolutely love ur fics they are feeding my delusions abt leon on levels that i didnt think were possible!

I suppose you could add ‘no knowledge to anything’ on my CV, Anon, haha!

Thank you for your message, really does mean a lot! I’m more than happy to add to people’s suggestions or “delusions”. When I’m only adding to my own pleasure for writing and sharing creations with Leon, As there is a lack of them.

Love you loads Anon x

I want and I need a Leon M. passionnate and sensual smut with a fem!reader. I want a plot of course but u can decide which one

love u and thanks 🩷

✧Even a clock must stop✧ ─ Léon Marchand x OC, Safi, Léon Marchand x !Black Reader

@safi03, GIRL GET READY!! There is so much SMUT. Get ready to get rowdy!! super glad to have a deep chat to get this fic PERFECT!! Enjoy, as I certainly did!

Warnings: SMUT,SMUT!! Enemies to lovers, dirty talk, PNV, Watersports, Mature Themes, Rough scenes, 18+, Minors DNI.

ENJOY!

Leon emerged from the pool, his muscles rippling with water droplets that caught the artificial light. He glared at the clock, irritation seeping into his bones. Training had gone on longer than expected, and his rival, Safi, had once again outswum him. As the university's star swimmers, their competition was the talk of the entire sports department.

Safi strutted over, her long, toned legs barely touching the wet tiles. Her dark hair was slicked back, revealing a smug smile that never failed to grate on his nerves. "Looks like you're going to need to put in some extra laps tonight, Leon," she taunted, her voice dripping with sweet victory.

Leon's jaw clenched as he toweled off. "You just got lucky, Safi," he retorted, tossing the towel onto the bench with a bit more force than necessary. "I'll beat you next time."

Their coach, a stern woman with a sharp tongue, called them over for feedback. They listened, exchanging glances that spoke volumes of their mutual disdain. Safi's eyes narrowed, her full lips pursed in concentration as she took in every word. Leon's posture was rigid, his arms crossed tightly across his broad chest.

The tension between them was palpable, a silent battle of wills. They both knew that their rivalry was the key to pushing each other to greatness, but it also meant they couldn't stand to be in the same room without sniping at one another.

Leon couldn't ignore the way Safi's eyes followed him as he moved, the way her gaze lingered on his physique. It was infuriating, and yet, a part of him reveled in the attention. He was aware of her attraction to him, and it fueled his desire to best her in every way possible.

Safi felt the same, her body reacting to his nearness with a heat she couldn't explain. Her hatred for him was as potent as the lust simmering just beneath the surface. Every time he looked at her, she felt exposed, vulnerable, and it made her want to win even more.

The coach's words grew fainter as their silent exchange grew more intense. The air thickened with unspoken desires, a dance of aggression and attraction that neither of them could resist. Without warning, Safi leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper, "If you're so sure you can beat me, why don't we settle it now?"

Leon's eyes snapped to hers, surprise and challenge warring within. "You're on," he said, the words leaving his mouth before he could think better of it.

They made their way back to the pool, the water a stark contrast to the heat of their rivalry. The chlorine scent grew stronger as they approached the edge, the echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the tiles. The atmosphere was charged, a heady mix of adrenaline and something else entirely.

Without a word, they dove in, their bodies slicing through the water with a grace that belied their mutual contempt. The race was on, and it was more than just for pride. It was a battle of wills, of dominance, of desire. Every stroke brought them closer, every kick of their legs a silent declaration of war.

Their eyes met across the water, the blue of Leon's burning into the brown of Safi's. The hatred was there, but so was something else, something primal and undeniable. The race was tight, their bodies gliding through the water like sharks hunting prey. The air grew thick with the anticipation of their inevitable collision.

As they reached the final stretch, Safi's hand touched the edge of the pool first, but only just. Leon's hand was a mere inch away, the tension in his body a coil ready to snap. They both knew this was far from over.

They surfaced, panting and glowing with exertion. Safi's eyes glinted with something that was definitely not just triumph. "Looks like I still have the upper hand," she murmured, her voice low and taunting.

Leon couldn't argue. He was so close to victory, so close to finally shutting her up, but she had once again bested him. He felt the anger boiling in his chest, but it was accompanied by a strange feeling of excitement, a thrill that was definitely not anger.

They climbed out of the pool, water streaming down their bodies, mingling together in a way that was almost intimate. The air was electric, the tension a living entity that danced between them.

Leon stepped closer, so close that their bodies almost touched. "This isn't over," he breathed, his voice a growl.

Safi's smile was a challenge. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

And with that, they turned and stalked off to their separate locker rooms, the echoes of their footsteps a promise of what was to come. The night was still young, and their rivalry was about to take a very steamy turn.

Leon's frustration grew as he peeled off his wet swimsuit. He couldn't shake the feeling of Safi's eyes on him, the way she had looked at him with something other than contempt. It was as if she had seen right through his bravado and found the raw need beneath.

In the locker room, Safi felt the same. Her body hummed with energy, her pulse racing from the adrenaline of the race and the undeniable attraction to her enemy. She knew she had pushed him, and she liked it.

As they both stepped under the hot showers, the water cascading over their taut muscles, they couldn't help but imagine the other's hands instead. The heat of the water did little to cool the fire that had been kindled between them.

Their paths crossed again as they were both leaving the locker room, towels wrapped around their waists. Safi's eyes traveled over Leon's toned body, and she licked her lips, unable to tear her gaze away. Leon caught the gesture and smirked, feeling a thrill of power.

"Looks like you can't get enough of losing," he said, stepping closer, their bodies almost brushing.

Safi's eyes flashed. "I don't lose," she countered, her voice low and dangerous.

Without another word, Leon reached out and grabbed the edge of her towel, pulling it away in one swift motion. Safi gasped, her eyes wide with surprise and something else.

Leon's smirk grew as he took in the sight of her naked body, her skin flushed from the shower and the heat of their encounter. "Care to make a wager?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

Safi stepped closer, her own towel dropping to the floor. "You're on," she whispered, her voice filled with a challenge that was now tinged with lust.

Their bodies collided, the hatred and passion merging into a fiery embrace. Hands roamed, exploring the contours of muscles honed from years of competition. Lips crashed together, teeth clashed, and tongues danced in a battle of dominance.

The sound of the showers faded into the background as they kissed, their bodies pressed so tightly that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. The steam enveloped them, a physical manifestation of the heat that had been simmering for so long.

Their kiss grew more frantic, their hands moving with a purpose that had nothing to do with swimming and everything to do with claiming what they had both denied themselves for too long. The rivalry had turned into something else entirely, something they hadn't seen coming but couldn't resist.

As the night went on, the line between love and hate grew blurrier, their actions speaking louder than any words could. They had crossed a threshold, and there was no going back. The pool, once a battleground, had become a playground for their most primal desires.

Their bodies moved in a rhythm that had nothing to do with the strokes they used in the water and everything to do with the passion that had been building between them. The tension that had fueled their rivalry now fueled their passion, a potent mix that left them both gasping for breath.

In the harsh light of the locker room, their bodies tangled together, they found themselves in a race of a different kind, one that had no clear winner or loser, only the sweet release of giving in to what they had both been fighting for so long.

And as the water rained down on them, mingling with their sighs and moans, they realized that perhaps their rivalry was never just about swimming. It was about this, about the raw, intense connection that had been there from the start, just waiting for the right moment to ignite.

Leon's hands gripped Safi's hips, pulling her against him as he claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him closer. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed in the tiles, a symphony of desire that only the two of them could understand.

"You're mine," he growled, his teeth grazing her ear. "Say it."

"Never," she panted, her nails digging into his back. "I'm no one's but my own."

Their words were like gasoline on a fire, driving them both wild with need. He took her challenge, his hands roaming her body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Safi arched into his touch, her breasts bouncing against his chest as he squeezed and pinched her nipples.

"Fuck," she cursed, the word a breathy plea that sent a shiver down his spine. He dropped his towel, his erection standing proud and demanding. Safi's eyes locked on it, a mix of hunger and defiance.

"You want it," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "Say you want it."

"I want you to make me scream," she shot back, her voice filled with the same need that was driving him mad.

Leon didn't need any further encouragement. He positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his cock nudging against her slick folds. "Ready to lose?" he taunted, his eyes gleaming with lust.

Safi's response was to tighten her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Ready to make me yours?" she countered, her voice a sultry dare.

With a roar, Leon slammed into her, the force of his thrust pushing her back against the cold tiles. Safi gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head as pleasure shot through her. They moved together, their bodies speaking a language that had nothing to do with words and everything to do with need.

Their dirty talk grew more heated, a back-and-forth of taunts and demands that only served to drive them higher. They were lost in each other, their rivalry now a dance of passion that neither could resist.

Leon's hands found her breasts, kneading them roughly as he thrust into her. Safi's nails scored down his back, leaving a trail of red that only made him more wild. "Harder," she begged, her voice a whip that urged him on.

He obliged, his strokes becoming more intense, more demanding. Safi's legs tightened around him, her heels digging into his ass as she met him thrust for thrust. The water beat down on them, turning their skin slick and their movements frantic.

Their bodies were a blur of motion, their breaths harsh and uneven. The tension grew, coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. They were so close, so close to the edge.

"Come for me," Leon ground out, his voice thick with desire. "Prove to me you want this as much as I do."

Safi's eyes snapped open, meeting his with a fiery intensity. "Fuck you," she spat, and with that, she shattered around him, her orgasm ripping through her like a tidal wave. Leon followed her over the edge, his own release a roar that echoed through the locker room.

As they stood there, panting and spent, the water cascading over them, they knew that nothing would ever be the same again. The line between love and hate had been irrevocably blurred, and they had no choice but to embrace the chaos that came with it.

Leon leaned his forehead against Safi's, his breaths coming in ragged pants. "This changes nothing," he murmured, trying to convince himself as much as her.

Safi's eyes searched his, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Everything," she corrected, her voice low and filled with a satisfaction that went beyond the physical.

They dressed in silence, the tension between them thick and heavy. They both knew that their secret tryst would only add fuel to their rivalry, but they couldn't deny the connection that had been forged in the heat of their passion.

The following days were a dance of avoidance and longing. They pushed each other harder in the pool, the unspoken challenge in every stroke. Yet, every time their eyes met, there was a spark, a promise of what awaited them when the lights were off and the water was still.

Their next encounter came sooner than either had expected. After a particularly grueling practice, the pool was empty, and the rest of the team had retreated to the showers. Safi leaned against the side, her eyes locked on Leon as he approached, his muscles rippling with the effort of his final laps.

"You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" she purred, her voice echoing in the vast space.

Leon didn't bother to feign ignorance. "Every. Fucking. Second."

Without another word, she slipped back into the water, her body gliding through the ripples like a siren's call. He followed, his need for her overriding any sense of propriety.

Under the water, their bodies met again, the cool liquid caressing their heated skin. The kiss was as explosive as the first, their tongues battling for dominance as their hands roamed and claimed.

This time, there was no pretense of a race, no wagers to be won. This was raw, unbridled lust that could no longer be contained. They surfaced for air, gasping and panting, their eyes never leaving each other's.

"I want you," Safi said, her voice barely a whisper. "I want to feel you inside me again."

Leon's response was to pull her closer, his hand slipping between her legs to tease her clit. Safi's head fell back, a moan escaping her lips as she writhed against his touch.

They made their way to the pool's edge, the water lapping at their thighs. Leon bent her over the side, the cold tiles pressing into her skin as he entered her from behind. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pain and pleasure that had her begging for more.

Their movements grew erratic, their breaths mingling with the sound of the water. Safi's hands gripped the edge, her knuckles white with the effort of holding on as Leon pounded into her.

"Harder," she gasped, her voice a desperate plea.

Leon complied, his hips slamming into hers with a force that had them both teetering on the edge of oblivion. The water splashed around them, a testament to their passion.

When Safi came, it was with a scream that echoed through the empty pool. Leon followed her, his own release a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building.

As they collapsed into each other's arms, their bodies slick with water and sweat, they knew that their secret would have to remain just that. But in the dark of night, when the water was still and the lights were out, they would continue their clandestine war of love and lust.

Leon and Safi couldn't keep their hands off each other, their training sessions turning into a silent war of touches and glances. They pushed each other to their limits in the pool, each victory a delicious taste of triumph that only made the inevitable surrender that much sweeter.

After one particularly intense practice, Safi waited for the others to leave before approaching Leon. "Meet me in the weight room," she said, her voice a seductive dare. He nodded, unable to resist the challenge in her eyes.

In the dimly lit room, the smell of sweat and iron hung heavy in the air. Safi was already there, a towel slung low on her hips, her skin glistening with the promise of a different kind of workout. "You've been holding back," she accused, her voice low and sultry.

Leon stepped closer, the space between them charged with tension. "I have not," he countered, his voice a gruff whisper.

"Prove it," she taunted, her eyes never leaving his.

Their next encounter was as explosive as the first, their bodies colliding with the same intensity that their personalities did. They fucked with the same ferocity that they swam, each stroke and touch a declaration of war and surrender all at once.

Leon bent Safi over a bench, her legs spread wide as he took her from behind. The sound of the weights clanking together was a metaphor for their tumultuous relationship, a symphony of passion and power that only grew more intense with each passing moment.

Safi moaned, her nails digging into the padded leather as Leon's hands gripped her hips. "Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his thrusts punctuating his words.

"Yes," she panted, her voice a mix of pleasure and defiance. "This is what I've always wanted."

Their rivalry had turned into something else entirely, a dance of desire that neither of them could resist. They hated each other, and yet, they craved each other with a need that was all-consuming.

Their trysts grew more frequent, stolen moments in the pool's shadows or the secluded corners of the gym. They were like addicts, unable to get enough of the high that came from their illicit encounters.

But as the university's swim meet approached, the stakes grew higher. The tension between them grew thicker, each practice a battleground for their hearts as much as their pride. They both knew that their secret could cost them everything if it was ever discovered.

And yet, they couldn't stay away from each other. Every time they were apart, the need grew stronger, a hunger that could only be satiated by the taste of victory and the feel of skin on skin.

Their final race was the most intense yet. The crowd roared, their names a chant that echoed through the water. They pushed each other, their eyes locked in a silent battle as their bodies moved in perfect sync.

As they reached the final lap, Safi felt Leon's hand brush against her thigh, a gentle caress that sent a bolt of electricity through her. She knew what it meant, and she responded in kind, their fingers tangling together for a brief moment before they broke away, sprinting towards the finish.

When Safi's hand touched the wall first, Leon couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride. She had won, and yet, he had never felt more like a winner.

They climbed out of the pool, their bodies shaking with exhaustion and desire. The air was thick with the scent of chlorine and want. And as they stared at each other, water droplets clinging to their lashes, they knew that their story was far from over.

Their rivalry had become a twisted web of love and hate, a tale of enemies to lovers that would continue to unfold in the most unexpected of places. The pool was no longer just a battleground for their pride; it had become the birthplace of a love that neither of them had ever dared to dream of…

Hi! I saw that you were making fanfics about Leon Marchand. Maybe you can make one where the reader is a very anxious person and he comforts her before her olympic competion (you can choose any sport you want). And she end up winning and After gotten her medal, she just hug him ? (Sorry if i made any mistakes, english is not my first language) I don't have any oc but can you make the reader be in the estonian team ! Thanks you and i hope you have a great day/night !

✧✧✧ ─ Calm Before the Storm

Léon Marchand X Female!Reader

Hello my dearie, I hope you're well. I have chosen gymnastics if that's alright, I liked going for the super Fluff. Enjoy Mwah!

Warnings: Fluff, No knowledge of Olympic Village going ons, Friendship, I have NO Gymnastics knowledge, Mature themes.

The familiar hum of the arena buzzed around you, the sound of spectators, coaches, and the occasional outburst of applause echoing through the corridors. The rhythmic beats of your heart were louder, though, pounding in your ears as you sat on a bench in the warm-up area. Your hands trembled as you tried to take deep breaths, your mind racing with the what-ifs and the weight of the moment. The Olympic Games—your Olympic Games—were at their peak, and you were minutes away from the most important performance of your life.

Representing Estonia was a dream come true, but the pressure was crushing. You’d trained your entire life for this, yet now, with everything on the line, the anxiety was threatening to consume you.

“Hey,” a familiar voice cut through the fog of your thoughts.

You looked up to see Léon Marchand standing there, his swim cap still in hand, a gold medal already draped around his neck from his event earlier that day. He smiled, that easy, reassuring grin that you’d come to rely on during these stressful days in the Olympic Village.

“Léon,” you managed to say, though your voice wavered.

He sat down beside you, close but not too close, giving you the space you needed. “You looked like you could use a friend right about now.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I just... I can’t seem to calm down. What if I mess up? What if...”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Léon interrupted softly, placing a hand on your knee. “Take a deep breath with me.”

You tried to follow his lead, inhaling deeply, though your breath hitched halfway. He noticed and smiled softly, waiting until you tried again. This time, it was a little easier.

“Look,” he said, his tone steady, “I know how you’re feeling. Maybe not the exact same way, but I’ve been there. Everyone here has. This is the Olympics. It’s supposed to be overwhelming, but it’s also supposed to be the moment you’ve been dreaming about. You’re ready for this. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

His words were a balm, slowly easing the tension that had wound itself tight around your chest. You focused on his calm demeanor, the way he spoke as if this were just another day, another competition, not the pinnacle of your career.

“Remember when we talked about why you love gymnastics?” he continued, his voice gentle. “You told me it’s about the feeling of flying, of losing yourself in the movement. It’s about the freedom. Don’t let the pressure take that away from you. This is your moment to do what you love.”

You nodded, the knot in your stomach beginning to loosen. “But what if I fail?”

“And what if you don’t?” he countered. “What if this is the best performance of your life? Either way, you’re going out there and giving it everything. That’s all you can do. And no matter what happens, you’ve already made your country proud. You’ve made me proud.”

His words sank in, anchoring you to the moment. You took another deep breath, steadier this time, and felt the panic recede, leaving determination in its place.

“I guess you’re right,” you said, offering a small smile.

“I’m always right,” Léon teased, earning a soft laugh from you. “Now go out there and show them what you’ve got. I’ll be watching.”

With one last reassuring squeeze of your knee, he stood, offering you a hand to help you up. You took it, feeling a renewed sense of confidence as you rose to your feet.

As you walked towards the arena, the noise of the crowd grew louder, but instead of being overwhelming, it now felt like a distant hum, something separate from the clarity in your mind. You turned back to Léon, who gave you a thumbs-up and a wink before disappearing into the sea of athletes and coaches.

The competition itself felt like a blur, each movement ingrained in muscle memory, each routine executed with a precision you hadn’t felt in years. When you finished, the crowd erupted in applause, but it wasn’t until you saw your scores flash on the screen—scores high enough to secure a medal—that it truly hit you.

You’d done it.

Later, standing on the podium with a medal around your neck, the national anthem of Estonia playing in the background, you searched the crowd. When you found Léon, he was grinning, pride shining in his eyes.

As soon as the ceremony ended, you bolted off the podium and straight into his arms. He caught you easily, laughing as you buried your face in his chest, the reality of what you’d just accomplished sinking in.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look at you.

“For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

Léon smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Always.”

And in that moment, you knew that no matter where your career took you next, you’d never face it alone.

hiii!! this is request for my bestfriend who’s totally smitten over Léon LMAOOO. sooo her name is Léa ( she’s also french ) and she would looooooove a friends to lovers with Léon.I hope it’s okay for you to write about this 🥰 I think she also follows you on here HAHAHA

✧Colours of the water✧ ─

Léon Marchand x Female! Reader, X OC (Léa)

Hello Anon (and Léa), This was absolutely okay to write, it was super long, I would be a liar if I didn't say I got carried away... Enjoy!

Warnings: Stranger, friends to lovers, school, no prior knowledge of being an artists nor swimmer, oc, heated kisses. let me know if i missed any x

Léa’s fingers smudged the edge of her canvas, blending shades of blue into a deeper, more vibrant hue. The art studio at Lycée Ozenne in Toulouse was alive with quiet chatter, the scratch of pencils on paper, and the occasional exclamation of triumph or frustration from her fellow students. It was a sanctuary for Léa, a place where the outside world melted away and she could lose herself in her art.

Today, her canvas was dominated by swirling blues and greens, a depiction of the ocean that was both peaceful and turbulent, much like her thoughts. She was drawing from memory—images of the Mediterranean Sea from a family trip the summer before, the way the water had seemed to stretch endlessly, a shimmering canvas of its own. But there was more to it than that. The water in her painting wasn’t just the sea; it was infused with something deeper, more personal—a reflection of her growing fascination with the element, and with someone who seemed to belong to it.

She glanced down at her sketchbook, open beside her on the workbench. It was filled with studies of water, of movement, of light playing on surfaces. And then, almost unconsciously, her hand had started sketching him—Léon Marchand, the star of the school’s swim team, the boy who cut through water as if he were born to it. Page after page of her sketchbook bore his image: the curve of his muscles, the determined line of his jaw, the intense focus in his eyes when he was in the pool. It had started as an artist’s fascination with movement and form, but Léa knew it had become something more.

“Another day of Léa’s blue period?” teased Nancy, her best friend and fellow art student, as she leaned over to take a look at Léa’s canvas. Nancy’s voice was light, but there was a knowing edge to it.

Léa chuckled softly, trying to dismiss the question. “I guess I’m just drawn to the color. There’s something about it that feels… calming, like the ocean.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow, her expression sly. “Or maybe it’s because of all the time you spend watching the swim team practice.”

Léa felt the heat rush to her cheeks, and she quickly looked away, focusing on her painting with renewed intensity. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nancy laughed, not unkindly. “Sure you don’t. You just happen to stroll by the pool every day after classes. It’s purely a coincidence that the team practices then, right?”

Léa couldn’t suppress a smile, even as she shook her head. Nancy wasn’t wrong, but Léa wasn’t ready to admit it out loud. There was something about watching Léon swim that captivated her. The way he moved through the water, so effortlessly, as if he was more at home there than on land, drew her in. And though she told herself it was just an artist’s fascination with movement, she knew deep down it was more than that.

“He’s talented,” Léa finally admitted, as she added another brushstroke to her painting. The water in her landscape was beginning to take shape, with swirling currents and hidden depths.

Nancy tilted her head, studying her friend with a mischievous grin. “Talented? Léa, the guy is practically a fish. I’ve seen you sketching him in your notebook. Don’t try to deny it.”

Léa bit her lip, caught in the act. She had indeed filled pages of her sketchbook with quick, rough sketches of Léon—his powerful strokes, the curve of his back as he dove into the water, the intensity in his eyes as he focused on the end of the pool. Each sketch was a study in motion, in the way his body seemed to meld with the water, becoming one fluid, unstoppable force.

“He’s just… interesting to draw,” Léa said, a little defensively. “There’s so much energy in the way he moves. It’s like he becomes one with the water.”

Nancy smiled gently, sensing that there was more to Léa’s interest than just an artist’s fascination with movement. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

Léa shook her head quickly, her stomach flipping at the mere thought. “No, no. I’m sure he doesn’t even know I exist.”

Nancy tilted her head, thinking. “You never know. I mean, he might surprise you. Plus, you’ve been drawing him for weeks. Maybe it’s time to take the next step.”

Léa considered this, her heart fluttering at the thought of actually speaking to Léon. But she quickly dismissed it. Léon Marchand was popular, always surrounded by his teammates and friends. He probably had no idea who she was, just another face in the crowd.

But that didn’t stop her from thinking about him. When she wasn’t working on her art, she found herself daydreaming about what it would be like to talk to him, to get to know him. There was something about his quiet intensity that intrigued her, something that made her want to understand what went on behind those focused, determined eyes.

With a sigh, Léa set down her brush and wiped her hands on a rag. “I should probably get going,” she said, glancing at the clock. “I have to walk by the pool on my way home, and I’d rather not run into the team.”

Nancy grinned. “Oh, sure. You wouldn’t want to accidentally bump into Léon or anything.”

Léa rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her lips. “See you tomorrow, Nancy.”

As she packed up her supplies and slung her bag over her shoulder, Léa couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. Maybe Nancy was right. Maybe she should take a chance, step out of her comfort zone. After all, art was about taking risks, about exploring the unknown.

And who knew? Maybe there was more to Léon Marchand than just swimming.

***

Léa walked through the campus, her thoughts swirling as she tried to shake off the conversation with Nancy. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds. The cool evening air was a welcome change from the stuffy art studio, and Léa took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air.

As she neared the pool, she could hear the faint sounds of splashing and the rhythmic calls of the coach. The swim team was still practicing, their dedication evident in the long hours they put in. Léa hesitated, considering taking a different route, but something stopped her. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was the small voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Nancy’s, urging her to take a chance.

She found herself walking closer to the pool, her footsteps slowing as she neared the fence that surrounded it. Through the gaps in the chain-link, she could see the swimmers cutting through the water, their movements powerful and precise. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, her eyes found Léon.

He was in the middle of a lap, his body slicing through the water with an ease that took her breath away. Léa watched, captivated, as he reached the end of the pool and flipped underwater, pushing off the wall with a burst of energy. For a moment, it was as if time slowed, and all she could see was the water swirling around him, the play of light on his skin, the sheer power and grace in his movements.

And then, as if sensing her gaze, Léon looked up.

Their eyes met, and Léa’s breath caught in her throat. For a split second, she considered turning and walking away, pretending she hadn’t been staring. But something in his expression stopped her. There was no irritation, no annoyance—just a hint of curiosity.

Léon pulled himself out of the pool, water streaming off his body as he grabbed a towel and wiped his face. He said something to his coach, who nodded, and then, to Léa’s surprise, he started walking toward her.

Panic surged through her. What was she supposed to say? What was he going to say? But before she could make up her mind to flee, Léon was standing in front of her, towel draped over his shoulders, his dark hair dripping water onto the pavement.

“Hi,” he said, his voice warm and surprisingly soft. “You’re Léa, right? From art class?”

Léa blinked, taken aback. “Uh, yeah. How did you…?”

Léon smiled, a small, boyish grin that made her heart skip a beat. “I’ve seen you around. Plus, Nancy is in my history class. She mentioned you once or twice.”

Léa mentally cursed Nancy and her big mouth but managed a small smile. “I didn’t realize you knew who I was.”

“Of course I do,” Léon said, his tone casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re always sketching near the pool. You’re really talented.”

Léa felt her cheeks heat up again, and she ducked her head, suddenly shy. “Thanks. I, um, didn’t think anyone noticed.”

Léon chuckled, a deep, rich sound that made her stomach flip. “Hard not to

..

Certainly! Here's an extended version of **Chapter 2: Unexpected Encounters**. I'll focus on building Léa and Léon's friendship through more detailed interactions, shared moments, and the beginning of a deeper connection. This chapter will delve into their budding relationship, highlighting how their shared interests and differences draw them closer.

---

The warmth of Léon’s smile lingered in Léa’s mind long after she left the pool that evening. As she walked home, her thoughts kept drifting back to their conversation. It had been brief, but it was enough to ignite something inside her—something that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Léon Marchand, the school’s swimming prodigy, had not only noticed her but had also complimented her art. And what was more, he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her.

The next day, Léa found herself replaying the encounter in her head as she sat in her morning classes. Her teachers’ voices became a distant hum as she sketched absentmindedly in the margins of her notebook. Little doodles of water droplets, waves, and even a rough sketch of Léon swimming filled the pages. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she barely noticed the bell ringing, signaling the end of the period.

It wasn’t until Nancy nudged her that Léa snapped out of her daydream. “You’re really out of it today,” Nancy said, her tone laced with curiosity. “Did something happen last night after you left the studio?”

Léa hesitated for a moment before deciding to tell Nancy the truth. After all, Nancy had been the one encouraging her to make a move. “I… I actually talked to Léon yesterday.”

Nancy’s eyes widened in surprise. “You what? No way! What did he say? How did it happen?”

Léa blushed at the excitement in Nancy’s voice. “It wasn’t a big deal. He just… recognized me and came over to say hi. He said he’s seen me around and that he thinks I’m talented.”

“Of course he thinks you’re talented,” Nancy said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But still, that’s huge, Léa! Did you talk about anything else?”

Léa nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the conversation. “He said he’d like to see more of my work. I guess… I guess he’s interested in art?”

Nancy’s grin widened. “See? I told you! He’s into you, Léa. This is your chance. You should invite him to the studio, show him what you’re working on.”

Léa’s heart fluttered at the idea, but the thought of spending more time with Léon also made her nervous. “I don’t know… What if he’s just being polite?”

Nancy shook her head, undeterred. “Trust me, guys don’t go out of their way to compliment a girl’s art unless they’re genuinely interested. You should totally take him up on it.”

Despite her nerves, Léa couldn’t deny the thrill of the possibility. Maybe Nancy was right. Maybe Léon’s interest was more than just casual curiosity. And maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new.

***

After school, Léa found herself heading toward the art studio with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. She had spent the entire day trying to muster the courage to approach Léon again, and now that the moment was here, her stomach was in knots. What if he didn’t remember their conversation? Or worse, what if he had changed his mind?

She reached the art studio and hesitated at the door, her hand hovering over the handle. Just as she was about to push it open, a voice called out from behind her.

“Léa!”

She turned around to see Léon jogging toward her, a bright smile on his face. He was still dressed in his school uniform, but his hair was slightly damp, as if he had just come from the pool.

“Hey,” Léa said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Were you looking for me?”

Léon nodded, coming to a stop in front of her. “Yeah, I was hoping to catch you before you went home. I wanted to see if I could check out your art, like we talked about yesterday.”

Léa’s heart skipped a beat. He had remembered. “Oh, sure! I was just heading in to work on something. You’re welcome to join me.”

Léon’s smile widened. “Great! I’ve never actually been inside the art studio before.”

Léa pushed open the door, leading Léon into the spacious room filled with easels, canvases, and art supplies. The familiar smell of paint and charcoal greeted them, and Léa felt a sense of comfort wash over her. This was her space, her sanctuary, and sharing it with someone else—especially someone like Léon—felt both intimate and exciting.

“This is where the magic happens,” Léa said with a shy smile as she guided him to her workspace. Her canvas from the day before was still propped up on the easel, the swirling ocean scene halfway complete.

Léon’s eyes widened as he took in the painting. “Wow, Léa. This is amazing. The way you’ve captured the movement of the water… it’s almost like you can feel it.”

Léa’s cheeks flushed with pride. “Thank you. Water has always fascinated me—the way it moves, the way it reflects light. It’s challenging to capture, but it’s also really rewarding.”

Léon nodded, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “I can see that. It’s like the water is alive, almost like it has a personality.”

Léa smiled, appreciating his thoughtful observation. “That’s exactly what I was going for. Water is so dynamic, so full of life. I wanted to show that in my work.”

Léon turned to her, his expression sincere. “You’ve definitely succeeded. I’m really impressed, Léa. You have a gift.”

Léa looked down, feeling a bit overwhelmed by his praise. “I’m just doing what I love.”

“And it shows,” Léon said softly.

They stood in silence for a moment, the air between them filled with unspoken words. Léa could feel her heart beating faster, and she wondered if Léon felt it too—this strange, new connection that was forming between them.

“So, do you have any other pieces you’re working on?” Léon asked, breaking the silence.

Léa nodded, eager to share more of her work with him. “Yeah, I’ve got a few sketches in my notebook. They’re not finished, but you’re welcome to take a look.”

She reached for her sketchbook, flipping it open to a page filled with rough drawings of water—waves crashing against rocks, raindrops falling on a pond, a river winding through a forest. And there, among the sketches, were the drawings of Léon swimming, his form fluid and powerful.

Léon’s eyes lit up as he recognized himself in the sketches. “Are these… me?”

Léa blushed, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been watching the swim team practice, and I just… found your movements really inspiring.”

“Mind?” Léon said, his voice filled with awe. “Léa, these are incredible. I had no idea anyone was paying that much attention to what I do in the pool.”

Léa smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “You make it look so easy, like you’re one with the water. I couldn’t help but be inspired.”

Léon looked at her, his gaze intense. “I’m flattered. Really. No one’s ever seen me that way before.”

Léa’s heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice. She could see now that Léon wasn’t just being polite—he genuinely appreciated her work, and that made her feel more confident in her abilities than ever before.

They spent the next hour talking about art and swimming, sharing stories about their passions and the challenges they faced. Léa learned that Léon had been swimming since he was a child, following in the footsteps of his parents who were both accomplished athletes. He told her about the pressure he felt to live up to their expectations and how he found solace in the water, where everything else seemed to fade away.

In return, Léa shared her own struggles with self-doubt, how she sometimes questioned whether her art was good enough, and how she often felt overshadowed by the more extroverted students in the art program. Léon listened intently, offering words of encouragement that made her feel understood and appreciated in a way she hadn’t experienced before.

By the time they left the studio, the sun had set, and the campus was bathed in the soft glow of twilight. Léa and Léon walked side by side, their conversation continuing easily, as if they had known each other for years instead of just a few days.

As they reached the edge of the campus where their paths would diverge, Léa felt a pang of disappointment. She didn’t want the evening to end, didn’t want to say goodbye to this new, exciting connection they had forged.

“Thanks for showing me your art, Léa,” Léon said, his voice warm. “I had a great time.”

“Me too,” Léa replied, smiling up at him. “I’m glad you came. It was nice getting to know you better.”

Léon hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “Would you maybe want to hang out again sometime? I’d love to see more of you”

..

---

The days that followed their shared evening in the art studio were a blur of stolen glances, whispered conversations, and a growing tension that neither Léa nor Léon could ignore. What had started as a simple interest in each other’s passions had evolved into something deeper, something neither of them was quite ready to put into words.

But they didn’t need words. Their connection spoke for itself in the small moments—the way Léa’s heart raced whenever she saw Léon waiting for her outside the studio, or the way Léon’s eyes would light up whenever he caught sight of her in the hallway. They began spending more time together, finding excuses to meet after classes, whether it was to walk home together, take a stroll through the nearby park, or simply talk about everything and nothing at all.

One Friday evening, Léon invited Léa to the pool after hours, when the swim team had finished practice, and the place was quiet. It was a bold move, and one that had Léa’s heart pounding as she agreed. The idea of being alone with Léon in the dimly lit pool area, with nothing but the sound of water lapping at the edges, was both thrilling and terrifying.

Léa arrived at the pool to find Léon already there, sitting on the edge with his feet dangling in the water. The overhead lights cast a soft glow over the surface, creating rippling reflections that danced on the walls. He looked up as she approached, his face breaking into a smile that made her stomach flutter.

“Hey,” he greeted her, his voice echoing softly in the large space.

“Hey,” Léa replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she walked over to join him. She sat down beside him, her legs folded beneath her as she dipped a hand into the cool water.

For a moment, they simply sat there in comfortable silence, the tension between them palpable. Léa could feel the warmth radiating from Léon’s body, the proximity sending her senses into overdrive. She had never been this close to him before, and the awareness of his presence was almost overwhelming.

“Do you ever get tired of the water?” Léa asked suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness.

Léon glanced at her, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Sometimes. But it’s also where I feel most at peace. It’s like… everything else fades away when I’m in the water. The pressure, the expectations, the noise. It all just disappears.”

Léa nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. She felt something similar when she was painting, when she could lose herself in the strokes of her brush and the colors on her canvas. But there was more to it than that, something deeper that she couldn’t quite put into words.

“It must be nice,” she said softly, “to have something that makes everything else disappear.”

Léon’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, his expression intense, as if he was searching for something in her words. “It is,” he replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But I think I’ve found something else that does that too.”

Léa’s heart skipped a beat at the way he was looking at her, the meaning behind his words clear. She felt a rush of emotions—fear, excitement, anticipation—all mingling together in a heady mix that left her breathless.

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Léon reached out, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was soft, tentative, as if he was testing the waters, but it sent a shiver down her spine all the same.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that,” Léon murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

Léa’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing. “Léon…”

But he didn’t let her finish. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both gentle and demanding, as if he had been holding back for far too long and couldn’t wait another second.

Léa’s eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into the kiss, her hand coming up to rest on Léon’s chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her fingertips. The world around them seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of them, the warmth of his lips against hers, and the sensation of his arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer.

The kiss deepened, the initial hesitancy giving way to a growing hunger as they lost themselves in each other. Léa had never felt anything like this before—this intense, overwhelming need to be closer to him, to feel every part of him. It was as if something had been unlocked inside her, something she hadn’t even known was there, and now it was impossible to ignore.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to steady themselves. Léa’s eyes fluttered open to find Léon staring at her, his gaze filled with a mixture of surprise and something deeper, something that made her heart skip another beat.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Léon admitted, his voice low and rough with emotion.

Léa couldn’t help but smile, her own feelings mirrored in his words. “Me too.”

For a moment, they just sat there, caught up in the intensity of the moment, neither of them wanting to break the spell. But eventually, Léon pulled back slightly, his hand still cupping her cheek.

“I want to see you again, Léa. More than just at school or in the studio. I want to spend more time with you… outside of all this,” he said, his voice full of sincerity.

Léa’s heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. “I’d like that too, Léon.”

He smiled, a real, genuine smile that made her feel like she was floating. “Good. How about tomorrow? We could go to the park, take a walk, and just… talk. Get to know each other better.”

Léa nodded, excitement bubbling up inside her at the thought of spending more time with him. “That sounds perfect.”

They lingered for a while longer, neither of them quite ready to leave the moment behind. Eventually, they stood up, their hands brushing against each other as they made their way out of the pool area, the tension between them now tinged with something new—hope, anticipation, and the beginnings of a deeper connection.

***

The next day, the sun was shining brightly as Léa made her way to the park where she had agreed to meet Léon. The air was crisp with the scent of autumn leaves, and the sky was a brilliant shade of blue. It was the perfect day for a walk, but Léa’s mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Léon to fully appreciate the beauty of her surroundings.

She spotted him almost immediately, leaning against a tree near the entrance to the park, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he watched her approach. The sight of him made her heart skip a beat, just like it always did, but there was something different today—something that made her feel both excited and nervous all at once.

“Hey,” Léon greeted her with a smile as she walked up to him.

“Hey,” Léa replied, her own smile mirroring his.

They started walking side by side, the path winding through the park shaded by the tall trees overhead. The conversation was easy, flowing naturally as they talked about everything from their favorite books to their plans for the future. Léa found herself opening up to him in a way she hadn’t with anyone else, sharing her hopes, her dreams, and even her fears.

Léon listened attentively, his responses thoughtful and sincere. He shared his own dreams with her—his desire to one day compete in the Olympics, his love for swimming, and how he sometimes felt trapped by the expectations that came with being a prodigy. Léa could see the passion in his eyes when he talked about swimming, but also the weight of the pressure he was under.

“I know what it’s like to feel like you have to live up to other people’s expectations,” Léa said softly as they sat down on a bench overlooking a small pond. “It can be overwhelming, especially when it feels like no matter what you do, it’s never enough.”

Léon looked at her, his expression intense. “Exactly. It’s like… everyone expects me to be this perfect athlete, to always win, to never make a mistake. But sometimes I just want to swim because I love it, not because I have to prove something.”

Léa reached out, placing her hand on his. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Léon. You’re already amazing, just as you are.”

Léon’s eyes softened at her words, and he turned his hand over to intertwine his fingers with hers. “Thank you, Léa. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, their hands still clasped together, both of them lost in their own thoughts. The connection between them had grown stronger, the spark that had been there from the beginning now fanned into a flame that was impossible to ignore.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, Léon turned to Léa, his gaze searching. “Léa, I don’t want to rush things, but… I really like you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

Léa.