Charles Leclerc Drabble - Tumblr Posts

cried j do yourself a favour and read it ❤️‍🩹

in so deep ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, charles has a huge crush and is a lovesick bloke, smut, humor, Fluff 

word count: 13.1k  

It takes you many cities, a botched Halloween costume and a failed break-in to realize how much Charles likes you. It takes Charles several years to realize he doesn’t need to do much to have you like him back. title from this

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, praise central, size kink, unprotected sex

auds here… thank u for all ur love during my periods of being awol .... i wrote this over the course of a week and i hope u all like it!!! its very much a self indulgent thing... :P

The first time Charles realized he liked you, you were both posed for a picture.

It happened at a dinner party in London, in late autumn, thrown by you to celebrate your first year on the paddock as a reporter. Few friends had been invited but, with how noisy everyone was and with the ease of conversation, it felt like a houseful of people in your narrow dining area. Lando was in front of the mirror, tipsy, demonstrating his best rendition of an Irish accent to a genuinely interested Alex and Lily. 

Max was playing with your pet cat, Gene Kelly, and mentally plotting a heist to sneak him out with Pierre’s help. Your boyfriend, Liam, was making himself a cocktail. And Lewis had been roaming around with a glass of dry wine and his brand new film camera to document the night’s festivities—but the host was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to everyone, full off dinner and tipsy off cocktails, you’d ducked into the balcony to find where Charles had run off to for the night.

The music was muffled when you shut the door, leaving it ajar just a little bit. Lissie had played Cocteau Twins and was singing whatever gibberish lyrics played, fully drunk off a bottle of Tito’s. Still laughing over her predicament, you turned to Charles and refocused your attention on him. Is it boring?

What w… what is? He asked, turning to you. Briefly his eyes flitted to your hand, the bracelets clasped onto your wrist. He noticed you held matching bottles of beer but yours remained full, nail tapping idly on the semi-opaque glass.

My party, you responded wryly, cocking your head to the side. A loose tendril of hair fell over your eye and he itched to tuck it back in place, thumb over your ear. You continued, still pressing for an answer. You left to smoke but you didn’t come back. 

I like the view. A half-lie but truthful in some way. He squinted to try and make out blurry, faraway signage. I should move here. Monaco makes me sick. He tried to say it jokingly, but was betrayed by the raw tone of his voice. You hummed quietly, to signify you were listening.

So move. Who’s stopping you? You smiled slightly. Aside from your ludicrous career, of course. 

You had a natural disposition of—something. He didn’t quite know how to describe it, almost like the rest of him had yet to catch up with something only his heart was already decided on. You spoke and acted with some kind of smoothness that only the most popular kids in secondary school could have reins over, but you always claimed you weren’t very popular in your teenage years. He just knew he liked hearing you talk, watching you smile. He felt something—but he didn’t want to name it even if he knew exactly what it was. Instead he played into your joke. Yeah, I’ve been told I should move to Dubai instead, become a prince.

You laughed aloud. You are terribly unfunny, you know that?

Am I? He asked. Just then, as the cotton of his tee brushed against your bare shoulder, Liam brashly tugged the balcony door open to find you. He had this drunk smile on his face, brushing his blond hair out of the way and raising a Leica to the two of you.

Hey, I got Lewis’ camera. Smile, Liam had said, eyes squinted behind it. You remained still, half-turned to the camera, and Charles gave a smile whereas you remained in a neutral, half-smiling pose. And right there, at that very moment, as a giggle escaped your lips from having to pose so quickly and even awkwardly, Charles realized with a damning force that he had a massive crush on you.

Liam had left shortly after to resume taking pictures, but would later confront you over your “weird, odd, fucking closeness with the Monegasque bloke” that you would vehemently deny despite a gut-churning feeling boiling low in your stomach. But that’s later. Your conversation continued calmly, along the passive whir of London and the streets below. You both people-watched as you thought of things to say—finally Charles said, Are you interviewing me next weekend?

I always try to get out of it when it’s with you. You rolled your eyes, feigning irritance, then smiled to break the illusion. I think so.

I’ll make sure I have good answers. You’re too smart. Hurts to be in the same room. 

Like you aren’t, you said back, but the rebuttal is shy in nature, like he struck you with a compliment so high you couldn’t bear to return it. He felt then like this was the kind of moment where you would start holding hands any minute, timid touches between clinks of bottles. He remembered Liam existed and screwed his eyes shut. He wished so hard to be able to kiss you. Abandon all sense and just kiss you.

—

“It’s 2023 and still London has the most rubbish ass, fucking cunt, stupid wanker stoplights,” Lissie huffs beside you, checking her watch. “Right then. We’re going to be late. You know how Lando is when people are late. Especially because this is his event.”

“We’re not people to Lando,” you reason, tapping the steering wheel. The ETA on your navigation app tells you you’re still twenty minutes away. “We’re his best friends. If he can’t forgive us, we should kick him out of the group chat.”

“Ooh, and add Alex,” Lily pipes up from the backseat, where she’s redoing her eyeshadow to pass the time. “I keep telling you guys he’s funnier than Lando.” Both you and Lissie make faint, vague sounds of dissent and she grunts again, deflating.

“No boyfriends in the group chat,” Lissie repeats an age-old rule that’s been around for as long as you three (four, including Lando) have been friends. “Or girlfriends, in Lando’s case, but we haven’t worried about that much, have we?”

You’re all en route to watch Lando crank out a brand-new deejay set, one he’s spent the summer break working on. It’s all house and inspired by beach music, and he’s very proud of it, so of course you’re all showing up to laud him. You’re not the only ones, though, apparently—whoever’s in the city is showing up to show their support, which includes a whole stretch of drivers.

“Oh, my God!” Lily says all of a sudden, eyes wide at something on her phone; you both gesture for her to show you and she does with speed. “Do you guys remember this? God, Instagram archives are a godsend.”

“Your dinner party in Chelsea!” Lissie coos, immediately sidling into a fond awwww! You tap at the story Lily had then posted: a video of everybody eating. You tap again to view the one she posted a few days later, which was a collage of Lewis’ camera scans he’d gotten developed overnight. There in the upper right corner, you almost immediately spot your photo with Charles.

“Oh, Christ, that picture.” Memories of your subsequent arguments with Liam flash past your head. Playfully, all you say is, “And I never had a boyfriend again.”

“Liam was an Irish arse, anyway.” Lissie scoffs. “Nobody liked him. Lewis joked about cleaning his camera after he used it that night. Plus, you actively avoid dating, so don’t complain.”

“Fair,” you say with a slight smile. Your mind lingers on the picture, the imprint of it burned fresh into your mind. 

“You—it’s also because you can’t take a hint, babe.” Lily says matter-of-factly. “Who knows how many guys have, you know… fancied, or, like, had crushes on you, and you just never knew?”

“Are you saying somebody fancies me?” You ask, voice whittling out playfully as your eyes count down the seconds to the green light.

Funnily, silence is all that answers. Beside you, Lily and Lissie exchange a look—one that communicates their years-long amusement over your cluelessness. You whirl back to them, eyebrows raised, and double down: “Wait. Does somebody fancy me?”

“No!” Lily ekes out; you don’t miss Lissie’s poorly-hidden laugh. “No. I’m just—it’s just—no.” 

Truth is, it truly seems like the only person in the entire paddock (team and Sky Sports staff included) who hasn’t caught on to a certain somebody’s boyish crush is the crush herself, oblivious as ever, even years and years later. One might think you’d have realized eventually, but perhaps owed to your type A personality and immersion with work, and Charles’ pathetic and total inability to express how much he likes you, the crush has always remained just that, despite your two friend groups’ best efforts to hint at it.

It wasn’t to say, though, that you didn’t sometimes entertain the idea of liking him, too. On that one rainy race weekend when he’d brought you a plastic cup of soup, and embarrassed, laughed sheepishly at Lissie’s joking request for one; then returned twenty minutes later with soup for everyone in the media pen. Or that time in Monaco where he’d pretended to be your boyfriend at a bar to ward off a creepo from hitting on you any further. Or another time, in Budapest, when he’d drank half his body weight in jello shots and slurred out a goofy, heavy I’m soooo sorry, baby while you helped him into the passenger seat of his car.

That one, singular time in Cancun you told your friends once and never again.

But those are isolated incidents, you suppose; plus, dating someone you work with has never seemed like a remotely good idea to you, and you don’t think it ever will.

For all your thinking on the topic, you fail to realize that you don’t know much at all—you don’t know the fact that Charles has liked you for years, after getting to know just how charming and funny you were as a friend. You don’t know that he still gets gut-churning butterflies when he sees you, hands shaky and face tinged pink. You miss the fact that he’s not had any long-term partners in the years of his liking you. You don’t know anything. 

“Don’t lie.” You narrow your eyes as you rev the car and continue the trip. 

“We’re not,” Lily says loudly and a touch too defensively, crossing her fingers. Quietly, she continues, “You should just pay more attention.”

Whatever she meant to say is lost on you as soon as you make a left and spot the club Lando’s at, already teeming with high-profile guests and their high-profile cars. Half an hour later you’re in—valet and being on the guest list effectively cuts your entrance time in half. You separate at the entrance—you, to find Lando; your two girls, to find your reserved table. You find him eventually, busy behind the booth churning out high-frequency tropical music; he pauses for half a beat to flash a huge grin and a thumbs-up before redirecting his attention to the knobs and sliders you can’t seem to guess the functions of.

These kinds of parties are affairs in and of themselves. They mimic the afterparties during the season—nothing if not shows of opulence and networking: champagne paid for by business magnates, yachts that barely make dents in anybody’s wallets, thick CVs, fruity cocktails spilled on pieces of clothing that cost upward of 3000 pounds. You make eye contact with at least seven skeevy businessmen before you spot your friends, but only because you hear them first—by them you mean Lissie, her loud voice raised even more to match the noise at this club.

“I said I didn’t fu—ugh—I don’t want ye fahkin’ champagne,” she slurs out to an old man in a pressed suit, eyebrows knitted angrily. “Got it?!” Behind her, Lily and Alex (who’s arrived now, apparently) watch, concerned and helpless to stop her but equally (perhaps more) entertained.

You step closer and make a move to calm down the exchange taking place, but somebody whispers a “hey” in your ear and startles you. You turn, and come face to face with Charles. His black tee accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, which you connect to his crossed arms; there’s a shy, boyish grin playing on his face. “Oh, Charles!” You smile. “Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin, straining to raise his voice. “You look—you look well. Are you alone?”

“No, I’m—” You turn to your three friends nearby, and to Lissie’s argument heating up. “I actually have to go.” You raise your thumb, jabbing it toward them. “But hi again… again!” You both laugh, but he laughs much louder. “I’ll see you around.”

“I jus—” He says, and you stick around for a second to hear him say what he has to say.

“Yeah?”

He clears his throat and laughs stiffly, abandoning his previous statement in favor of a new one. “I just…. want… to have a great time.”

“Ohhhh,” you holler, nodding, clearly trying to mask your extreme confusion under a polite smile. “Okay, well… go ahead!”

You smooth down your dress and laugh again, evidently more forced but, unfortunately for Charles, not any less pretty.

You carry yourself in a very pretty, graceful way, loud and quiet at the same time, like your confident voice when you’re holding the mic and asking questions or making drivers laugh. He might sound creepy, though, a touch too observant, if he tells you so. He observes you instead, for a second, the low cut of your dress and the way the red overhead light shines on your exposed collarbones—and then you’re leaving. He watches you walk over to hug Lily, realizes how stupid he’s sounded, and smothers a hand over his face, humiliated. 

—

“I just want to have a great time?” Max’s jaw drops and he shakes his head, disappointed above all else. “Charles, what the actual. Like…. fuck?” They’re all camped out at the latter’s hotel room, around the dining table, in varying states of sober and doing different things to wear off the last hour of the night before they’re all due to train or debrief again in the morning. Charles had relayed the disaster of the night to everyone at some point, but Max is the last to hear of it; this, unfortunately, does not inoculate him from the shock and secondhand embarrassment.

“Pierre told me to—” Charles starts, forlorn.

“Oi, no. I told you to say something like I just wish… I’d seen you sooner,” interjects the Frenchman with a tut. “You know, flirting? Not… whatever the fuck you said.”

“I didn’t—I was—I lost my mind,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. It couldn’t possibly be entirely his fault when you looked so pretty tonight, hair down and a wash of glitter on your eyelids. Just subtle little flecks of them. They brought out your eyes, too. And your blush, the pink flush of it that sat high on your cheekbones.

“…llo? Charles.” He blinks and sees Carlos’ deep eyes, wide and staring right at him, so pointedly he’s genuinely startled.

“Jeeesus fucking Christ. What?” He places a melodramatic hand over his chest. “Yeah?”

“What do you mean with the”—Carlos mimics his confused expression—“I asked you a question, tonto.” 

“Don’t bother with him,” chimes in Pierre, half-distracted by his phone. He looks up with a devious smile and continues. “He’s still thinking of Miss Reporter of the Year.” A round of loud, jovial laughter makes its way across the table, a few teasing quips being chimed in here and there.

“I just,” mocks Pierre from across the table, adopting a sing-songy tone as he bumps his shoulder to Carlos’ with a mocking laugh. “Wanna have a great time.” His voice is much higher and more mocking, which is enough to send Charles into a fit of petulant embarrassment.

“This isn’t sixth year,” he grits out quietly, but the blush on his face could just as well be plastered on the cheeks of a twelve-year-old. “Give it a rest.” 

“Mate.” Pierre’s voice mellows into something more austere. “You do know she’s leaving the reporters’ job at the end of the season? She’s going to London full-time. No more seeing her all year round. You know this. And I keep telling you. If you are really, and I mean really, interested, I say go for it. C’est la fucking vie, yeah?”

“Plus, if she says no, you can go for pretty much anyone else, anyway,” concludes Max with a convinced smile.

“It’s not the same,” he admits helplessly, smothering his hands over his face in bleak frustration. Behind his eyelids he sees you still, beautiful and smiling and funny—he seriously needs to institutionalise himself before he goes even more mad with the years-long malady he’s called a crush. And seriously, for a twenty-something to have something he calls a crush is despicable in itself. He feels juvenile.

“I can’t tell her. She’s always told people that dating coworkers is a bad idea.”

“You’re not coworkers.”

“We’re—well, we still work closely together. It is the same.” He groans. “It’s just… I’ve said it before. If I admit I like her, things will become awkward. I’d rather we remain friends.”

“Well… see, nobody said you needed to tell her,” begins Pierre schemingly, eyebrows raising. Around them, everybody groans at the birth of another Pierre-brained scheme that will, no doubt, need the enlistment of everyone’s help and will likely end in disaster. “What?! I’m just offering… I’m just saying, mate—you’ve liked her since forever. Why not make a move?”

“—I can’t—”

“Without telling her?” 

“Pierre,” groans Carlos, ever the voice of reason, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t—whatever this is you’re planning, it’s going to go to shit. I swear.”

“You are acting like I plan to take somebody hostage.” Pierre shrugs. “You know, girls like when you don’t tell them straight up. You have to show you like them. You know, be interested in the things they’re interested in, compliment them, make them laugh. And then they think, oh, how thoughtful, oh, how adorable, and before you know it, they like you. And you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

“Mmm. Uh-uh. Untrue.” Max says decisively, shaking his head. “I told Kelly I liked her.”

“Yeah, sí. I told Isa I liked her, too.”

“Will you two—just—” Pierre gesticulates and makes a funny noise that insinuates just go with it. “Okay?” he points out to the latter, rolling his eyes. He turns back to Charles with a ready, dazzling, so-French-it’s-scary grin and continues. “I suggest you let us be your wingmen and help you charm her.”

“Whoa, whoa, wh—us? You’re on your own here,” Max quips with a laugh. “It’s your stupid idea.”

“It’s not stupid, and it’s going to work. She probably likes you already.” His confidence carries the lie with gusto. “We just need—you just need to show her instead of saying the dumbest shit to her face.” Pierre leans back into his chair and shrugs matter-of-factly. “Max and I will be regular wingmen, but we have a secret weapon.”

“Don’t—” Carlos starts with a sigh.

“Yes. Lando, Lily, and Lissie are all close to her, eh? Well, perfect—Carlos will get information from Lando about things she likes, you gift her those things or talk to her about them, bam she’s in love. It’s literally a perfect plan.”

Maybe it’s worth it. Maybe—

“No.” Charles shakes his head firmly, setting the record straight. “This will not work. Who’s to say she even needs a boyfriend?”

—

Despite what his best and closest friends—on and off the paddock—might have you believe, Charles hasn’t always been so hopeless when it came to trying to catch your heart. His closest call came in Cancun, after a long weekend of racing and a flight to the area, early into the night where he thought he was the only one who decided to opt out of partying.

Your skin’s peeling. You turned from where you sat on a barstool observing the shore, startled, immediately relaxing when you found him standing there eyeing you. Your hair was still damp, crunchy with saltwater, and your skin had tanned considerably, a sunburn sitting on the bridge of your nose. You stuck your tongue out.

I spent the whole day swimming. He observed your bikini, yellow and green contrasting the colour of your skin. He blinked slowly, ordering himself a drink to hopefully pass the thoughts away. His eyes couldn’t stop, though, wandering, the translucent material of the scarf you’d tied loosely around your hips, the tinge of heat on your shoulders and nose. I’m burnt everywhere.

There are remedies for that. He smiled around his glass.

I’m aware, you said lightly, crossing your legs and sliding your finger along the salt rim of yours. But just in case I forgot, maybe you could refresh my memory.

Your voice was so sweet, so low, so tempting. Already he knew he was wrapped around your finger, the same finger picking up grains of salt to press on your tongue peeking between your smiling lips. You brought your glass to your lips. It had been some time since the dinner in London so he pressed, his voice deep and a little rough, Liam can do that for you, I’m sure.

Pity, you said meekly as you set your glass down and looked back at him. He’s not my boyfriend anymore.

Out of eyeline, the bartender’s eyes widened at the exchange he was overhearing. 

Is it a pity? He asked, leaning backwards and cocking his head to the side. It’s easy, an easy glide of conversation, flirt, something he’s wanted for a while now. To have you playing into him, and have himself playing into you, just like this. It was naturally easy in a foreign city where nobody knew who either of you were, where you were just two strangers flirting at a beachside bar.

Two strangers laughing while they dug their toes into the sand. Two strangers basking in the water, tinted orange by the sun dipping below the horizon, scarf untied in favor of one last swim before night fell. There was nothing keeping either of you from doing whatever you wanted. Nothing keeping Charles from finally acting on the attraction that honest to God crushed him.

You ended up leaning on the door of your hotel room, keycard fiddled in-between your sandy fingers. You combed a hand through your hair and offered a shy smile. So. 

So, he replied, leaning closer. So.

Sooo. You were laughing and your breath smelled like a mint leaf and vodka. You looked up at him, blinking slowly. I have a rule.

What rule is that?

I don’t date coworkers. He wanted to dip down, place a hand on the dip of your waist, and kiss you.

Pity, he said gruffly instead, a smile forming on his face.

Is it a pity? You chewed on your lip and looked at his barely parted ones, pink and pretty. When I’m about to break it? He was about to help you do just that—eyes fluttered shut already—when a crash resounded from down the hall and you both turned to find the culprit. You broke apart and with your separation, whatever atmosphere of tension you’d built up popped, too, leaving you awkwardly standing beside each other.

Oh m… Lissie? You asked, leaning closer as you recognized your friend more and more. You narrowed your eyes, watching the girl crawl her way through the carpeted floor. Oh, Jesus—let’s—get you—

You both hauled her up and wrapped either arm around your shoulders, unlocking her hotel room with great effort and tossing her onto the bed. You stood back and sighed at her half-blacked out state, slightly amused but ultimately relieved she ended her night unscathed.

She pried one eye open and sleepily, she groaned out, what were… you two… doing together outside your room?

Nothing, you said quickly, face warm and eyes wide.

Because you—Lissie raised a lazy finger in your direction—don’t date coworkers. 

I wasn’t—it wasn’t—goodnight, you spluttered, eyes refusing to meet Charles’ even as you both exited the room, paying him quiet thanks as he pulled the door back closed.

Sorry, you said, pretty as ever. The light shone on the red splotch on your nose. Goodnight.

And so he went to his room that night, bummed out and still high off your scent.

—

“You’re staring again.”

“I’m not,” he lies through his teeth, averting his eyes away from your figure by the shore. Sue him if he was staring (which he wasn’t… but most definitely was) but he finds you much too pretty. After the disaster that was the Mexican GP, he figures he could use some sort of stress reliever. Apparently he was not alone in thinking this, considering half the paddock hauled ass to Cancun and prompty partied.

Across Charles, Joris and Pierre share a knowing look that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I said I’m not!”

“So you are not staring at her blue swimsuit then?” Joris tests, mouth twisted into a devious smirk. “It’s black,” Charles says matter-of-factly before catching sight of his friends’ smug expressions and realizing he’s implicated himself. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, petulantly almost. “And I wasn’t. Can you fucking—fuck off?”

“Just ask her out already,” Pierre groans, nodding when Joris chimes in with agreement of his own. “I seriously can-not handle another bar of this shit. It’s been years.”

“I don’t know how to,” he laments. “It’s going to be awkward if I do it all formal, and she’s going—she’ll laugh at me, and it’s…” He blows a raspberry. “Non. Pointless.”

“Just kiss her at the party,” reasons Joris with an easy attitude, shrugging. 

“Joris! Charles didn’t know about that,” Pierre says, trying to lower his volume, but it’s pointless since they’re barely a metre apart. “Fucking tattletale.”

“Party?!” Charles repeats, eyes wide. “Why don’t I know about a party?!”

“It’s a Halloween party,” Joris says, a wacky grin on his face. “And you said it yourself, didn’t ‘cha? You told us not to tell you if any functions were happening because you’re too tired to go to any. Too… too wrapped up racing.” He laughs. “Or something of the sort.”

“Well the season’s ending,” he huffs, wringing firm fingers over his face, his shut eyes, “and I still fucking haven’t… so I think I’m afforded a party.”

“Alright, then come to the party! Dress code, Halloween. Sexy Halloween.” Pierre wiggles his eyebrows. “You know, speaking of our plan, Carlos overheard Lissie and Lily talking about what your girl’s costume is going to be.” He leans in closer and laces his fingers together. “She’s going as a… Christina.”

“Christina?” The other two echo, confused. 

“Christina. I did some digging, and I think it’s this.” Pierre scrolls and dicks around on his phone for a minute before turning it back around to Joris and Charles, who peek with great interest. They seem to be looking at an outdated movie poster of—

“Cas-per the friendly ghost,” Charles reads aloud, trying to get his accent to dissipate. “Huh. What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a movie, idiot.” Pierre shuts his phone off. “Starring who? Christina Ricci.”

“Vraiment? You think his crush is going to show up wearing… a white gown?” Joris asks, his mind stuck on the outfit he’d seen just seconds ago. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Well Carlos and I agreed, so. Two to two. And Carlos says she and her friends always wear silly costumes like these. So if she shows up as Christina, what better way to start conversation than to dress up as Casper?”

Charles’ eyes widen with comical horror. “No. No, no, no. Did the ghost and the kid fuck?”

“No!” The two men across him yell in unison.

“Right!” He gesticulates. “So it’s not a couples’ costume!”

“But it’s still—” Pierre pauses. “It still matches. Trust me on this one, mate.” He smiles. “We even brought the supplies.”

—

The party is a hit as soon as Charles and his group enter. The former finds refuge at the table, unwilling to socialize. Pierre roams for a bit and ends up finding you almost immediately—you’re wearing low-waisted pants, a strappy top, and you sport alternating streaks of blond and black in your hair.

“Hey!” He calls, jogging up to you. “I heard you were coming as a Christina. Guess who I am?”

You rake a hand through the streaks in your hair and smile. “Not just any Christina. The artist. Xtina? You know?” You twirl a bit, the dark material of your strappy pants swishing as you go, as if the movement will help Pierre deduce the costume’s identity. “Whatever. You’ll get it. Lando is—we’re matching tonight, but I g—it wouldn’t make any more sense if you don’t understand it.” You sigh a bit and gesture vaguely to the crowd behind you, referring to the Eminem-dressed Lando, who you guess is currently caught in the thick of.

“Xtina?” Iks-tina, he repeats, clearly confused. “I remember hearing… somebody saying you were going as a… a Christina.”

“Chris-tina, Xtina, yeah. Christina Aguilera.” You smile, fingers pinching at the material of your belt. “Anyway—where is everyone? I’ve only seen Daniel’s costume and then yours.” The recent memory of Danny’s neon orange traffic cone costume bumping into everybody flashes in your mind.

“Save yourself,” he huffs, smoothing calloused hands over the denim of his jeans. “Zhou and Esteban came as Bella and Jacob, Max as a Tifosi. Anyway”—he points to his ensemble—“guess yet?”

Your mental images of each cited costume are cut short. “Aha! You’re, um. Yes! You’re Ken from the Barbie movie,” you crack finally, remembering the revealing denim vest and jeans combo from the film you’d watched four times over in theaters a few months ago. “Wow, even your briefs say Ken. Very accurate. Minus the non-bleached hair.”

He tuts and shrugs. “I’m no Alex. What’d he come as?”

“He and Lily matched—Sonny and Cher.”

“Let me guess,” Pierre starts, and already you’re nodding because you can tell he’s going to predict exactly how the night has turned out, “Alex is Cher?”

“Wig and sequined dress and all.” You nod, laughing and squinting; Alex’s tall figure, head clad in a long, fringey, black wig, stands out above the rest. “Oh, I did see Carlos at the bar. Ricky Martin?”

Pierre really laughs at that, a loud, distinctly French guffaw involuntarily forced past his lip glossed mouth. “What the fuck, mate! Ricky Martin?! He’s El Profesor from La Casa de Papel. You know, Money Heist? Bella ciao? Oh, my God, he’s going to fucking freak if he hears—heard you said that.”

“He seriously gave off Ricky Martin vibes,” you defend in-between laughs of your own. “So that’s everyone? Oh—oh. Charles! What did… I never saw him! He kept telling me how excited he was for his costume, too…” Just a few hours ago, at that—a boisterous voice honing into the your voicemail inbox, boasting about a costume while you prepped for the party with Lissie and Lily. Your eyes peruse the room, but the lighting is too dark and vague for you to make out anything you haven’t already seen.

“Oh. Charles?” Pierre’s voice lilts higher. “Um. Yeaaah. Um.”

You, however, are sufficiently distracted by your own search for him, and you fail to notice Pierre’s clear scrambling attempt to stall you. He takes a long swig of beer and clears his throat. “He’s just, well, around. I should actually—excuse me, I need to actually go look for him. I owe him a drink.”

“Oh? Oh, okay. Well—be careful?”

You’re a bit surprised by his sudden, jolted departure, but bid him a rushed goodbye anyway. He waves back vaguely, his eyebrows furrowed into an expression of worry as he shoves his way back into the crowd and toward the area littered with tables. It’s only then that Lissie surfaces from the crowd, scratching absently at her nose as she crashes into you with a floaty giggle.

“Lis, you’re all sticky.” You place two palms flat against her shoulders and push her off. “Are you high?” 

“Yes but not drunk.” She giggles again, eyes fluttering.

“Oh—that’s not. Whatever, I guess.” You exhale and cross your arms over your chest. “Who’ve you been with?” She listens, plays with the braid in her hair, matching her getup as Lara Croft. 

“Um, the deejay. I gave him my number, but he’s actually pretty fucking weird. Come on, I want to pee.” As always, her speech quickens to something inhuman, an effect elicited by alcohol; giving you essentially zero time to react, she loops a hand around yours and drags you with ferocity to the nearest restroom. She moves so aggressively through the thickly-packed crowd you barely have time to react or say hi to people you’re acquainted with en route.

You whiz by the door, and in the rush, you notice Pierre entering the one adjacent with a worried expression etched onto his face. Just minutes ago you’d been conversing—you wonder why he’s suddenly become privy to worries.

“So the deejay,” says Lissie, effectively distracting you for the time being. You hum to signify you’re listening, fixing bits of your outfit in the mirror as she kicks different stalls open to judge their cleanliness. “One, he was dressed up as James Bond. Which is just about the most fucking pretentious thing ever. Two, all he played was Chainsmokers. You’re telling me this pub—club—whatever—in Mexico could only afford to commission this guy? Three, he was”—she kicks the last door open and a gasp escapes her and morphs into a semi-shriek—“a ghost?!”

“Ghosted you? Already?” Your eyes, focused previously on re-lining your lips, flits to Lissie’s in the reflection. She’s distracted, staring at the contents of a stall with comically wide eyes. “What’s up? S’that a fucking glory hole or something?”

“No!” She yells when you approach, immediately lunging forward to pull it shut. “No. It’s—I saw a roach. Serves us for going to a fucking… pub. Don’t go in there, it’s…” She exhales a long breath. “It was a mama roach and… with eggs.”

“What are you talking about?” This isn’t even a pub, it’s a nightclub—one with a door fee that definitely did not warrant rogue cockroaches in the water closet. “Lis, you’re drunk-hallucinating.” You’re not even sure if that’s a thing, but you shove past her and push the stall door open again, ready to come face-to-face with, maybe, a sleeping Tinkerbell or a puking black cat. Worst case scenario, shit on the floor; worst-er case scenario, Lissie is right and you’ve stepped into a den of roaches.

Weirdest case scenario, though, if that’s an actual thing: Charles Leclerc seated on the closed toilet seat, face painted white, wearing an all-white ensemble of a large white shirt, shorts, high socks, and sneakers. He’s got two hands on either side of the wall, as if he’d been preparing to escape; how or to where, you’re clueless. Why he’s here, you’re even more stumped.

His entire face is a stark white, with black smudges of face paint on his forehead (eyebrows, you’re guessing); his hair’s been curled by the humid air at this club, and he looks like himself in all the ways he totally does not, eyes big and caught when yours click onto them. 

Despite confusion, you chalk it up, as one would rationally do at a party, to intoxication. You spend a few bated breaths staring at him staring at you, his face of pure shock and embarrassment enough to sober up a drunk for a few days. “Hi.” You can hear yourself say it, but you’re so caught off-guard and full of confusion it feels alien.

“Hey,” he says, wiping four fingers over his stubborn face paint with a smile. The smile and the paint barely fade. “I’m a ghost.”

“I see. Classic.” You pause. “I’m Chr… nevermind. Um—are you okay?”

“A bit, uh—a tad bit drunk. I seem to be in the ladies’ room.”

“Yeah, you seem to be,” you recite back to him, amusement quickly overtaking confusion. “I think Pierre was looking for you. Let me go get him. Lis, make sure he doesn’t…” You gesture a puking movement, and the pair watch and listen to your shoes click against the tile, before the door swings open and then shut again.

“Coast is clear.” Lissie’s voice has been lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I reckon everyone you know is already looking for you?”

“This is a disaster.” He rubs frantically at the face paint, but it’s horribly futile. “You know, I didn’t even realize I was in the ladies’ room until you two came in. She cannot see me like this.”

“She already fucking has, mate.” Lissie sounds exasperated. “Whose idea was this? If you say Pierre I swe—”

“—Pierre—”

“—ar to Jesus fucking Christ, Charles—I can’t keep saving you from Pierre’s antics.” She grumbles out a sigh. “What are you supposed to be, even? Have you—did you see how hot she looks? This is like… you look like a… I can’t—” She lets herself taper off, so disbelievingly shocked at his odd costume.

“I’m Casper the Ghost!” Lissie mentally forms a crude picture of the kid ghost, which looks absolutely nothing like what’s in front of her. “Casper was opposite Christina Ricci. Pierre told me so.”

“That’s the dumbest analogy ever, holy Christ. You look like a poster child for some…” She regards him for a moment. “Anemia advert.”

“Take that back.”

“You don’t really have the upper hand here, Charles,” says Lissie with a grimace. “I’m texting Pierre. Are you—did you even get drunk?”

“No,” he woes. “I am totally sober. I had to lie. Pierre went to the table and told me that my—that the costume we planned—it was wrong, and I just—I ran to the bathroom.” Lissie can’t help but laugh at the story, raising her camera to record the incriminating evidence.

Mid-video, Charles’ white face droops and his painted lips part to ask: “You think she found me cute?”

—

Charles likes finding things about you. He supposes the first time he realized just how much he liked hearing you talk about yourself—which you rarely did—happened in São Paulo. He’d been stressing over a spiel to recite in front of a camera, rewriting over words for hours to make everything sound more natural.

Each margin had been hastily written on with pencil, run-on sentences with semicolons in the place of periods. The team scriptwriter didn’t do much to make his lines sound more natural and less like they’d just been spat out of an online translator. You peeked into the media pen and coughed. You don’t belong here, do you?

Tch, he clicked his tongue, turning to offer a smile. I’m working on a script for Sunday. Portugese stuff.

I can help, you responded, walking slowly over toward him. You smiled quietly, approaching slowly like you were waiting for him to greenlight your offer. He did so by pulling a chair out for you, and once you sat you traced a nail over each line, murmuring them under your breath.

You speak Portugese?

You looked up and gave a half-shrug, laughing like you were amused with yourself. Kind of. It’s not very good, but it’s enough. You resumed your editing and he felt content to stare, admire, watch every movement of your lips align with the syllables of the words. You asked for a pencil and began writing something much cleaner. He couldn’t help but let himself be in awe of your intelligence.

You read over the last few lines and turned to face him. Let me guess, you said. You want to make a pun on Ferrari before you say bye.

Ah, he laughs. Yeah.

See, I know you so well, you half-joked, scrawling idle edits on the margins of his script.

He was already looking at you when you turned back to him, seeking his response, agreement, anything. When your eyes met, something caught at your chest—it tugged, tugged, then tugged again, a dull feeling burrowed deep in you. Words failed to wrench themselves free, but once they did, all you could manage was a faint—What?

Nothing. He smiled and shook his head, like he was waiting for you to figure it out. You know… sometimes, I wish I met you sooner. He does. He wishes he knew you back then, when you first learned Portugese. Or when you were in high school, so you could see just how exponentially awkward he was in his own teenage years. He thinks sometimes that he’s lost too much time, met and liked you too late.

Hm, you breathed out, because you didn't know what else to. I know why—so you could always have me. As a proofreader. Right?

Hah. The tilt of his laugh was high and mocking, and he stuck his tongue out, as if to punctuate that. He looked away then, like he wasn’t ready to say certain things to your face just yet. Quietly he added, Always have you… something like that.

—

If you ask Charles what he’s doing hiding in a laundry basket of a luxury hotel in São Paulo, he wouldn’t be able to answer you, either. It’s been some time since the disaster that was Caspergate Cancun 2023, and if he’s perfectly honest, he doesn’t feel like facing you again for the rest of his life. Pierre, of course, has other plans. 

All he knows is last night, Pierre suggested he leave a huge vase of roses for you to arrive to in the living room of your hotel; as he planted it in said room, the door’s lock turned, and he sought a hiding place in the adjacent bedroom. Judging by the prevalent scent of Dior Sauvage, this is Lando Norris’ room.

Did u get to escape??? Pierre’s text irritates him. At the same time, the light flips on; Charles curls in on himself, remaining perfectly still. Lando’s voice trills through the room. “I didn’t leave those roses for either of you,” he’s saying to you and Lissie.

Charles hears you hum. “They’re so beautiful.” His heart swells. “I gotta run for a sec, pick up something from Will’s room.” A few seconds pass and the door opens and shuts, which means Charles is currently alone with Lando and Lissie. Which means he needs to plot his escape as soon as he can. Otherwise he’ll be caught in the crossfire and much too embarrassed to—

A foot meets his concealed body and he lets out an oof! as he’s sent flying out of the hamper, along with strewn-around clothes. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, scared shitless and in a fetal position; he only unfurls when a socked foot kicks at his ass. Above him are Lando and Lissie, both extremely confused. 

“How did you know I was…?!” He asks, aghast.

“My fucking laundry was breathing, mate, s’not that hard to leave alone,” Lando retorts sharply. “What are you doing?!”

“I left roses for her,” he explains fruitlessly, gesturing to the vase outside. “But you came in, and this was the closest hiding place. I was told this would be a great gesture.”

“Right. Where did you even get that advice?” Lando tries to suppress the critical tone in his voice, but judging by Charles’ embarrassed grimace, he’s failed. Beside him, Lissie makes a hm? noise, goading Charles to answer quicker.

“I got it from.” Charles pauses. “A friend,” he ekes out vaguely.

“No shit. Who?”

“Um—” Charles’ eyes are shut. “Pierre.”

In unison, Lissie and Lando both release incredulous gasps, throwing their hands up in the air. Lissie points at the mess of clothes in the corner of the room to emphasize her point and asks loudly, with comical cynicism: “This seemed like proper romantic advice to you?”

“Scratch that. Pierre’s words seemed like proper romantic advice to you? His girlfriend is—!” Lando places a flat palm a few inches off the floor and shakes it a few times to insinuate Kika’s age, his disbelieving expression growing funnier by the second. “Mate!” His voice cracks mid-syllable, though even this mishap seems to be the least crazy thing about tonight.

Charles, burning with humiliation, releases a shaky sigh. “I know! I know!”

“You don’t know!” They shout simultaneously in response, disappointed if anything. Just then the door opens again and your two best friends hurry to throw assorted pieces of laundry on the lying Charles, exiting to make sure you don’t suspect anything. 

“Hey,” you say slowly, because they’re both posed the exact same. “Am I… missing something?”

“A shower, girl,” Lando says, and you flip him off before retreating into your room.

Belatedly you ask, “Did you find out who sent those flowers?”

“Some loser, probably,” he calls right back. Charles emerges to poke him accusatorily, but Lando just shrugs. Charles definitely does not have the upper hand here, anyway. 

“Just get out,” Lissie says, completely done with Charles’ antics. “And stop. Listening. To Pierre.” 

He rinses the odor of laundry off him once he’s at his room, but thinks, despite himself, that you called the flowers beautiful.

—

Are you—

—no. I’m not. You wiped a hand over your face and caught mascara along with it. I’m fine, it’s fine.

What he said, it wasn’t…

I said, you turned to face him, eyes rimmed and mouth trembling. You didn’t finish your sentence, just tore the microphone off your lapel and buried your face in your hands. There was always going to be a first time. Your first time insulted on a live feed, after the Abu Dhabi weekend, was not any less shocking. You felt small. You felt humiliated.

You didn’t want to show Charles any of it. You moved around the green room, picking up shit to throw into your bag. Thank God the season was fucking over, you kept thinking. I feel so, you said, still failing to finish anything you started to say. You’d been called an annoying bitch by a fan of one of the drivers—to your face, as you exited the paddock.

He moved nearer. Charles, you said, a half-sob, and then you were allowing him to crash, allowing him to hug you. Your arms were weak when they wrapped back around him, linking softly in the small of his back. You sobbed hard into his chest until his grey tee was dark with tears. I want out, I just want out.

You’ll lord your career over that prick when you’ve made a million dollars doing this, he said. You do it too well to want out. You’re too smart. You’re too good. You cried harder, your face hurt and every word felt wrestled unintentionally, like it took too much work to say much at all. I’m sorry, you said. You should go. 

No, he said. He held you closer. Not until you feel better.

—

He cries after Abu Dhabi. Bad season, everyone’s said. You snap a few smiling pictures with Max, who wins, and Lily and Lissie and the lot of them, the people who made the year so great. You notice an absence in all the pictures and you find it in a room in the Ferrari motorhome.

You’ve found you both find solace in words. In reassurance. But you’ve also found that your connection enables you both to reassure without having to say anything at all. You sit beside him, lean your head on his shaky shoulder, and wait.

“I was waiting for you to come,” he admits brokenly. “I was just not feeling good.”

“I know,” you respond. “It was a bad race. Shit strat.”

He’s quiet. His breaths are ragged and wet and shaky. “Will you stay? Until I feel better?”

You don’t move. “I’ll stay for longer.”

—

In the kitchen Charles unscrews himself a beer. The sky outside is pink and the sun hides behind faraway mountains, gradually darkening the entire atmosphere, save for the few woolly clouds. He’s by the patio door so he can spot people in the wide yard: Pierre, exchanging a Frisbee with Lando. Max, Alex, and Lissie engaged in an intense match of Uno.

They’re all gathered here in Spain at Carlos’ behest to celebrate the dawn of winter, and the end of the season, Max’s third championship.

He’s yet to spot you—he’d been told earlier you’d be late—but it doesn’t matter. He’s been feeling uncharacteristically himself all day anyway. He wrote that on his notebook this morning, on the flight here, verbatim. Looked up the word to spell it right and everything. He remembers you saying it, that time in London where you and Lando took him around and annihilated Borough Market before lounging on the grassy knoll of a nearby park. I feel so uncharacteristically happy, you’d joked. The syllables were too stunted and too fast for Charles to nail it. But he feels it now. Uncharacteristic.

He tells everyone he’s fine, though, and does a good job of it. Three beers in and he’s beginning to trick himself into thinking he actually is doing fine. Nobody suspects he’s been feeling empty from such a bad finish to the season—the season that was already bad in itself. He hasn’t been feeling his usual drive, his usual appetite. He doesn’t know when it will return.

“Here you are.” Carlos has this goofy smile on his face when he bounds into the kitchen, depositing empty dishes at the sink. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”

Charles and Carlos have always shared an easy dynamic—they’ve both always wanted the same thing. Racing has always been at the forefront of their minds. It makes conversation passionate, easy, fun; it was what helped build their now-natural rapport in the first place. “Yeah?” He prods, leaning against the counter and tipping fizz into his mouth.

“I invited everyone here to announce… something important.” Carlos crosses his arms. “But I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Me?” Charles knits his eyebrows and smiles. “Wow.” He gulps, cocks his head. “What is it, then? Are you switching teams?”

Carlos’ goofy smile grows. “Isa and I are engaged. I’m retiring next year.”

“You—you’re—” Charles laughs and shuts his eyes all at once. “Oh, my God, mate! Congratulations!” The overload of information isn’t lost on him, but he channels it all into a hug. “Are you really retiring, though? I mean. Wow, this is amazing news—but—”

“I was sure as soon as I asked,” Carlos says squarely, smiling as if he’s conjured an image of Isa’s smiling face (which is likely the case). “As soon as she said yes. As soon as I bought the ring!” He laughs aloud, so overwhelmed with happiness of recalling everything. “I’m so glad you were the first person I told.”

“Besides Lando,” Charles says, because he knows it’s true.

“Besides Lando.” Carlos smiles. “I’m… dios, I’m happy. I always knew I’d have something to look forward to after racing.” They hug again, and then he clambers past Charles and into the patio, where he resumes the façade of being unengaged and still a driver. Left behind, Charles thinks over it himself. What does he have to look forward to after racing? All his life, racing is all that ever existed to him. 

The announcement comes eventually—when it’s dark out, intermittent stars white and twinkly against the black above. Charles has once again turned into a blushy mess because you arrived a few hours prior, wearing a lovely dress and with your hair down in messy waves and you said hi to him earlier without him approaching first. They present a stupid, but very Carlos-and-Isa ring-shaped cake to announce it, and somebody queues up music and everyone’s cheering. Of course everyone’s cheering—it’d be impossible for this announcement to not come with bouts of yelling and cheering and goodbyes to Carlos, who accepts them with glee and—dare he say—excitement.

Charles remembers their first year as teammates, the jokes they’d made about needing to beat the other out. For both of them, he recalls, it’s only ever been the drive to race. He didn’t think Carlos would even entertain the idea of retiring yet. He wonders when he will. The thought of it alone is enough to send a well of anxiety run deep into him—which happens after he congratulates the couple, so he excuses himself to the empty outdoors area to get fresh air back into him.

He didn’t mean it, but he finds you already there. “Hi,” you say when he slides the door shut. “You okay?”

“Just… yeah, I’m fine.” You smell faintly like smoke. “It’s crazy, huh. Everyone’s… moving on.”

“So Carlos told everyone, then,” you say, pursing your lips and waiting for his response. He closes his eyes and lets a soft exhale escape him, warm air out and fresh air in, a welcome change from the heady atmosphere in the party. “I knew. I bought that God awful cake. I kept saying get a normal one but they both wanted it to be shaped like a ring.” You punctuate your sentence with a crisp laugh, a stunted exhale of air to break the tension.

You have a natural sway over words, graceful and beautiful and commanding, something he only wishes he could be. For so long he’d been told the feedback loop of one and the same thing: you’re good. You’re the best. You’re going to be the next big thing. And this season had just… aggravated every single insecurity he’s picked up in his years of racing. He wishes sometimes he’d been told something else: you suck. You’re normal. You’re irrelevant. Then at least he wouldn’t exist in some odd panopticon of feeling on top of the world and yet looking at it from the bottom of a pitch black abyss.

“Yeah,” he says instead, wringing his hands. He mimics the wrist movements he’s made to do during gym hours. “It’s wild how—I mean, not really wild, but. I just can’t… even picture my life after racing.”

“You’re young, that’s warranted,” you laugh. “You’re also… I mean, even if you drop out of racing tonight, it’s not like you’re going to become dirt poor or anything. You could become a bloody orthodontist and people will still love you.”

“Will they?”

He didn’t mean to say it aloud but out it comes, garbled and rushed and he’s a bit embarrassed for sounding like a child in front of somebody he finds so beautiful. The silence is suspended and dry, and for a minute all he hears and feels is the slow rise and fall of his chest. To somehow mend the vulnerability, he tries again. “It’s not—I just think I’ll be lonely if I decide to stop racing.”

The fact that Carlos can say with so much ease that he’s willing to drop his career to ensure his pending marriage lasts is almost terrifying, because Charles knows he wants that. He knows—he’s always known—that he wants that intimacy, that realness, but for it to come at the cost of something he’s known for so long is so scary it’s almost a dealbreaker.

“Lonely?” You echo, voice tinged with concern. “Charles—”

“Lonely.”

He says it with an edge to his voice, so final, so steadfast. Loneliness is what he’s always feared and he knows, with a deep drawling punch to his gut, that loneliness is what will come if he decides to stop racing. Even if he’s tired. Even if he’s so pent up with frustration and loss and anger. Racing is all he’s ever known, it’s all he is—when he’s not tied to it, who is he? “Like no one… like I’m just standing in front of what I’m supposed to be, and when people see me, that’s all they see—what’s behind me. Right through me.”

“Well, you’re off racing right now,” you respond, trodding carefully. “So, well. Do you feel that way?”

He knows what you mean: it’s winter break, so he’s not driving or doing some form of it every single day. And he knows in turn what to answer: no, not really, he doesn’t really feel detached from it because there’s a low anticipation in his belly that tells him he’ll be doing it all again soon. But he chooses to interpret it differently; differently, but not falsely.

“I th… I don’t feel lonely,” he says, “when I talk to you. You see me.” 

Your stomach drops and your heart begins to pulse a mile a minute, knuckles tightening where they’ve gripped onto the wooden post of the patio. You can feel the air in your lungs pass through every divot of your body as it escapes and arrives in long, shaky breaths. He’s looking at you, his eyebrows knitted like he wants—needs an answer, if you’d be kind enough to please give him one. 

“I…” You bite your lip, every thought in your head at odds with the other.

Time feels like rubber, like it’s been stretched and manipulated and Carlos is ducking out to announce that it’s time to blow out candles on the stupid ring-shaped cake and you’ve taken too long to respond and your body feels too heavy but your heart feels too light and your eyes are blinking, open and shut and open again, and you feel like the wind could honestly blow you away now because Charles has given you a neutral nod and left you alone again, to contemplate the weight of what he’s finally, finally admitted, tonight here under the sky of Spain.

You move a hand over your hair, watch him walk away. The words lodge themselves in your throat, but they’re there.

—

One minute after  you realized you liked Charles, you swallowed the feelings until they were barely decipherable.

In happened in Dublin, at a pub on St. Paddy’s Day, when you’d emerged fresh out of a breakup with the most arseholic Irishman you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. And funnily enough, it happened without Charles’ presence. You’d spent the day at Liam’s, hours of fighting over so many things—the growth of your career and the decimation of his, where your relationship had soured, why you never came to visit him, Charles, the sodding bloke you like so much—until finally, you took your things and left.

Wise, because you might’ve honestly gone insane if you stayed a minute longer, attuning your ears to the deafening feedback loop of his voice. Also decidedly unwise, because you had a piece of luggage and barely any battery, in a full city of people you didn’t know at all.

There was no chance Liam would let you return, and no chance you wanted to, for that matter—the fact still stood, though, that you needed to kill the night before your flight to France left at 6AM. You entered the first pub you heard, deposited your bag at the coat check for an extra couple of euros, and accepted the first pint thrust into your hand and first leprechaun hat plopped atop your head.

In between watching people compare how they poured Guinness pints, Sinead O’Connor songs, and exchanging headdresses with a random stranger, you found yourself impressingly drunk. The Irish did it too well.

A university student stumbled past your stool, tears in her eyes; she stopped to steal a shot of whiskey lying unattended on the bar. You looped a hand around her wrist and stared at her menacingly. Manners?!

Fuck manners, she said wetly, wrenching every word out with great effort. Nobody paid either of you any attention. I just caught my best friend and boyfriend kissing. Her accent was unmistakably Irish and was stronger with the tears.

Oh, you said, loosening your threatening grip. Sorry.

Don’t be. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid, she said, aghast, before finally stalking outside the pub. Half an hour later, you wound up at a table of thirty-somethings, all belting along to a folky sounding song.

Drunkenly you slurred out, I thought it was a stereotype.

What was, love? One of them paused her singing, dipping down to listen to you properly. Your cheek was smushed against the varnished wood, moving with every syllable you eked out.

The songs. You sound like… you belong in the 19th century.

She laughed at that, surfacing and yelling something to the band onstage you couldn’t quite decipher. The song reached its peak, loud and getting the whole crowd singing along, before fading into a familiar opening. S’this better? She asked, her voice slightly raised above the guitar.

You looked up. I liked the other one too, to be fair. M’not a fucking anti-Irish.

Nobody said that, love. Come sing. She hauled you upward, exaggerating her arm swinging in the air so you’d follow suit, which you did. You hummed the opening, eyes fluttering open and closed. You imagined opening them again and finding Charles across the room, already looking, with the same charming, boyish smile on his face that came to you as comfort.

You thought back to the dinner in London, the feeling of his shirt against your shoulder, the way he’d gotten you so easy and laughing and babbly, something you never got with Liam. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled raggedly. Fuck.

Linger’ll do that to you, your companion mused. Around you, the entire pub sang along to the song that served as the backdrop to your all-encompassing romantic epiphany. Missing a lover, huh?

No, just… You opened your eyes, watched the band sing out the rest of the prechorus before they slid into the next verse. A new kind of air had crept over the pub, one that exemplified just how much this song could mean to anyone, no matter who. You shut them again and saw Charles. The green of his eyes, mossy on some days and bright on others. The moles on his face. The grooves of his hand, the way it wrapped around things like pens, mics, bottles, your fingers. His voice, how he curved around words. He always knew exactly what you meant even if it took you ages to get to the point, even if you felt like you didn’t know what you meant exactly. 

You opened your eyes. Suddenly fights with Liam didn’t matter. Whatever little sympathy you had left evaporated as you listened to the lyrics and realized, with a damning force, that you were thinking of Charles. And this was not weak, this was not vague, this was a strong thing that took you off your feet like a gust of wind, hurtling you out of the pub. You thought of every time your eyes met his, both of you already laughing at something else present. Every time he saw you at the end of a busy work day and asked if you were doing alright.

Just this guy, I suppose. His name’s… yeah. We’ve been friends for ages. He’s really very talented. Very kind. Your voice was drowned out by the music but you didn’t intend for anything to be heard, anyway. And he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He always knows what to say. He’s not in Dublin tonight, not even in Ireland, for God’s sake. 

He’s your boyfriend, then?

You closed them slowly. No. T’wouldn’t be very smart to date him.

Is he an arse?

No either. It’s just too late.

I’m sorry, love.

Don’t be, you mused, eyes still shut as Linger came to a close. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid.

—

Charles should be in Monaco. You should be in London. But at four-thirty PM, leaning against the counter of a tiny café in Dublin, you cross paths for the first time in weeks, and everything tilts on its axis.

He notices you first, because he hears you thank the barista quietly. It’s not your reporter voice, not the one you put one when you’re interviewing him or his teammate or his fellow athletes. But it’s your real one, and it’s the one he thinks he could hear through a snowstorm.

A tuxedo-clad man exits and suddenly you’re there. You’re wearing a white top, low neck and thin straps covered by a cardigan. You’re sliding coins into the pocket of your jeans and he watches your hand freeze, drags his eyes back up to you, finds you’re already looking.

You look beautiful, he thinks. You put on a lot of makeup for the cameras, and you looked gorgeous, but seeing you like this—caught, almost, in a moment you didn’t expect to see him—you look unbelievably beautiful. He aches with it. 

“You look well,” he says first when he opens the café door for you. “What’s your business in Ireland?”

“Acquainting myself with my new coworker.” You wait for him to follow and squint when the sun hits your eye. “We’ve been here three weeks, fly back to London next Monday. You?”

“It does seem weird for me to be here,” he observes absently. “I needed a change of pace, I think. Gear up for the season.” He shakes his half-full cup of coffee. “Where are you staying?”

“Just up ahead.” A slow silence overcomes you both. “Come over. I have beer. I know you can’t be fucked to have coffee.” He laughs and nods, following you through the road and up into a flat—a BNB, if he’s guessing. There’s a tiny landing and then stairs to a wider living area, where you proceed to unwrap the croissant you’d gotten a few minutes earlier. You chuck it into the fridge and produce two bottles of beer in one go.

“Sit,” you gesture to the spot beside you, and he sits himself there. “We can talk. We should.”

You’ve shrugged your cardigan off, and he observes every detail of your exposed skin, the way your hair layers atop it. Right as he opens his mouth to respond, a blond girl enters, rings of mascara caking her eyes and a wine glass twiddled in-between thumbs. She’s talking her head off and only pauses when she spots Charles.

“Hhhh…iiii.”

“Salut.” 

“You’re Charles?” She notices how close the two of you are seated together.

“Yes,” he says. 

“Charles, this is Robyn—my coworker’s friend. And by extension my friend.” You pat her knee and point to Charles to get them properly introduced. “She leeches off the apartment.” 

“You love me,” she retorts, mockingly—but sweetly. “Anyway, sorry to intrude. I was just on the phone with my situationship.” She rolls her eyes. “Does he think I give two shits about goodnight texts? It feels impossible to be romantically satisfied these days.”

Charles grunts. “I hear that,” he says, just to make Robyn feel less excluded. You get up then, to fuck around at the kitchen sink—he suspects you’re not actually doing chores—but you come back with wet hands and you sit yourself across Charles, on the loveseat, instead of next to him. 

“The thing is, right,” she gulps wine, “there’s such a thing with dating now,” Robyn says, not missing a beat, her Geordie accent curving round the syllables with a distinctive twang. She stares at the opaque red liquid in her glass, like that will supplement her with more words. “Like a deal. A big deal. Everyone’s making this huge thing out of it, and it’s like, can’t we be in our twenties and fuck around occasionally?” She laughs, a high-pitched, tapered noise.

You shift from where you’re seated, buried into the material of the seat. It’s quiet and beginning to touch awkward, so you speak in a rough voice: “I dunno, I kind of… get it.”

“Oh do you, now,” she responds, voice saturated with wine. “No, it’s—I was joking. Of course you would, you’re absolutely fucking gorgeous, is all.”

Suddenly you feel all too seen and inclined to touch a fingertip to your cheek, feather light. You blink so you won’t feel tempted to meet Charles’ eyes, because you feel them on you. “It’s—thank you, I mean. It’s nothing to do with that. I just always feel it’s impossible to find someone who loves you. I feel like I’m not very lovable.”

“You? You’re bloody fucking likable!” Robyn’s laugh is so disbelieving you find yourself semi-convinced. “You’re a bit intimidating, yeah, but you’re lovable as fuck, babe.”

You double down anyway, voice thin. “Right. I don’t think I’m very good at being… affectionate.”

“Hah. Bull. You’re affectionate with… with Charles! I’ve heard you talk about him to Jane.”

She turns to Charles before you have the chance to defend yourself. To him she asks: “Is she affectionate with you?”

But it’s basically rhetorical. Everyone speculates, sees the way you two bend the line between friendship and romance, the care with which you treat Charles, the way you two understand each other in ways impossible for anyone else in your orbit. Fuck if it’s not overtly physical. Robyn’s known you three weeks and has never even met Charles until seven minutes ago and already she’s sensed the energy, the difference, even if she hasn’t seen you do so much as embrace.

“It’s—” You say and say too quickly. You wind up slowing your speech so you don’t sound too defiant and lean backwards, willing yourself to relax. “It’s… different with Charles.”

“Different?” She repeats, miming every dip and rise of your voice. “Why?”

“We’re close.” You refuse to meet his eyes. “Be—because we’re good friends. I feel… things are… just. They’re different. That’s all, really.” Barely satisfied with the answer you eked out, you cross your arms over your torso like it’ll help shield you from the interrogation going on. Briefly you let your eyes fall on Charles; he’s reclined, eyes all over the place, blinking in quick flashes.

“But you admit it, at least?” She smiles. “That you’re affectionate, I mean.”

“Only with…” you taper off, unwanting to dig yourself a deeper hole. “Right. Sure, yeah.”

“Well then,” she says, eyebrows raising as she dows the rest of her glass. She sets it down on the low wooden table with a clink. “I’ll get going. Don’t let me keep you two from shagging or whatever.”

“We don’t f—shag,” you interrupt, voice sharp. “And you’re not keeping us at all. Me, at all.”

Us sounds so exclusive, you realize as it leaves your lips. Us. It tastes like sour cherries on your tongue, bleeds all over. Robyn gives you a look. In response, you insist on seeing her out, leaving Charles at the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands toying with the neck of the beer bottle. He can make out faint words but he doesn’t try translating or deciphering them, just listens to your muffled voice peek through every few words. You sound amused, also accused, also endeared—a bit irritated. You end it with a laugh.

You clamber back in after a few minutes and find him at the top of the stairs.

“Sorry,” you wave off, rolling your eyes to fend Robyn’s earlier interrogation efforts of. “She’s very strong-willed.” You climb the stairs, your striped linen shorts folding with every movement of your legs. Finally you make it to the top, on the second-to-the-last stair, staring up at him.

“You know,” he says, watching you ascend to the top finally, but you’re still staring upward. “You should know.”

“Should know what?”

“I missed you.”

You inhale and are grateful to find the air is all him. “I missed you, too.”

“In a different way.”

“Me, too,” you echo again, voice quiet. “I missed you. It feels like I’ve missed you all my life.”

He can hear your still, controlled breathing. “Thank you for seeing me. Even when, you know, it’s… hard. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you say. “It’s never difficult, not…” With you.

He leans down and captures your mouth in his then, like it’s a thirst he’s always needed quenched. You allow it, kiss him back like you’ve needed this your entire life. His lips are chapped, but you don’t mind—Dublin’s cold. He kisses like he’s smiling, like he’s happy, and you think maybe that’s not far off. He moves downward, to your jaw; lower, along the column of your throat, around your collarbones, cornering you against the wall, letting you lean against it.

Charles’ kisses are light and soft, but also heavy, like he’s trying to waste as little time as possible. You sigh, feeling light, feeling ecstatic. He puts two hands on either side of your face, presses your foreheads together, and shuts his eyes. 

You feel the divots of his fingers on your hip, your waist, places he’s never touched before. “I’m sorry I left,” you breathe into him. “Back in Spain. In Madrid. I wanted to think about it. About what you said. About everything, about you.”

“I’m glad I found you here, then.”

You tiptoe to kiss him again, because now that you’ve had it once you’re terrified you won’t have it again. In-between kisses he picks you up, cages you fully against the wall, and you breathe shaky little exhales. It builds up quicker and harder; you feel his cock at your hip and shiver, eyelashes fluttering. “Upstairs,” you say breathlessly.

He likes knowing you want this, because he’ll give you whatever you want. He’d fuck you for hours. Have you shaking, eking out moans of his name. He’d whisper praise up and down your ear. He wants this just as much, if not more.

“I want you, so much,” you exhale when he lies you both down on your bed. “So much.”

He tugs your shorts off, then your panties. He doesn’t usually lack self-restraint, but he thinks he’s never felt this much temptation in his life. He’s so hard. He brings one hand to his thigh and squeezes his dick through his pants, but it doesn’t provide him with any kind of relief. You’re needy already, whimpering, mind dizzy. He slides a finger up your slit and watches you screw your eyes shut.

Slowly he sinks in, watches you accustom to the stretch. “Wanted this,” you breathe out.

He thrusts in further, feels your warm cunt stretch around him, feels your breaths get hotter and quicker against his lips. But he takes it nice and slow, so he can feel every little ridge inside of you as you take all of him. “You like it?”

You nod, too dumbed down to speak. “Good girl. Pretty, pretty girl.”

He’s wanted this for so long, fucking you deep and slow and desperate. He thrusts harder, watches you unravel and your hot breaths pick up in pace. He reaches down, smears wetness around your clit as your thighs begin to shake. Your pretty, flushed face is enough to send him into overdrive, your eyes rolling back as he goads you into orgasm.

You’re still cumming around him when he takes a shaky breath, pulls you tightly back against him, and lets the pleasure take over. He fucks you full, rides his orgasm out while you ride yours out—buries his dick all the way inside, so each spurt fills your contracting pussy up.

He pulls out and collapses beside you, pressing his lips to your shoulder before lying on his back. “I’ll clean you up in a minute.” It’s quiet for a second, just you two breathing.

Then: “I did, I did think about it,” you say, voice reedy. “I thought about you.”

“Yeah?” He watches you blink at the ceiling, lets you clasp your hands onto his.

“About me, too.” You open your eyes and stare into the green.

“D’you want this?”

“Believe me,” you say, threading your fingers into his tightly. Your hair’s fussed from the sex. “I do. But—”

His heart drops.

“I don’t want to… I want you to not…” You sigh. “You know, I like seeing you. I like being that. I like knowing I make you feel good. And I want you to know you… you make me feel amazing. Like you and I… we understand each other.” You pause. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who understands every inch of me.”

“Ditto,” he says, and you smile.

“I look up to you, you know? I don’t want you to anchor yourself onto me. I want you to realize that on your own. You’re smart. You’re a great driver with a shitty fucking team I hated reporting on last season.” He laughs shakily. “You know I look up to you. You know… you know I love you.”

“I do. I love you.”

“I always have. It wasn’t… it didn’t always make itself clear, but I always have. And I know I always will.” You smile. “We’ll be in different cities, in separate timezones, but if we survived the years of not telling each other how bloody fucking much we liked each other, this is nothing. When we’ve sorted ourselves out, we’ll know the right time to finally call this what it is.”

He’s never thought of himself as a writer, but his notebooks might beg to differ. Many times you’ve told him yourself that he has an affinity for describing things, especially when he lets go of language as a limitation. He wonders what you’d say if you knew the amount of times he’s tried to write about you. Careful letters or typefaces, in an effort to form a coherent picture of you, the way he sees you, the way he loves you. But he’s so scared he tears the pages off before they get too intimate, too personal, crossing the border from having a crush on you to being in love with you.

For once he’s not. He nods. It’s bittersweet, but it’s a segue to a better ending. He moves a hand over your hair and holds you close.

“You could never be unlovable,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead because finally, he can. “I mean it.”

Electric Love - CL16 x reader

mars’ notes: First off, wtaf??? i’m so so so happy that you guys liked my lando blurb that much, i was half distracted and incredibly anxious when i wrote it, so the fact that so many people like it is absolutely insane to me jnfruncr - anyways, here’s a cute little (not so little) Charles fic i had bouncing around in my head :) thank you @love-belle for listening to me ramble!! please please lmk what you think, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated <333

summary: 4 times Charles almost told you he loved you, and the one time he did.

warnings: none!! super fluffy (again)

———————————————————-

The first time Charles almost let those three precious words slip from his lips was during an unassuming pasta date the two of you had planned. You had gone to the grocery store earlier in the day, and had remembered the old, silver unused pasta maker that was stashed in the back of yours and Charles’ kitchen cabinet, and decided that it seemed like a good day to finally teach your boyfriend how to properly cook the Italian staple. You’d come home in a flurry of excitement, bags dangling from your arms and a bright smile on your face, stating that you were going to teach him how to cook so well that he’d rival Yuki Tsunoda, teasing that maybe that way he’d be able to get Pierre over to his house for a dinner date as well. He’d smiled, grabbed the bags from your hands and set them down on the kitchen counter, before winding his arms around you and kissing you softly, telling you that he missed you and couldn’t wait.

You were too full of excitement to wait any longer, turning on the old radio in the corner of the kitchen, the sound of an old 1950s love song filling the space whilst Charles got two glasses and a bottle of red wine from the rack in the living room. Once your glasses were full and your hands had been washed, you’d dragged him over to the kitchen counter and thrust a “kiss the cook” apron into his hands, instructing him to put it on so he wouldn’t get flour all over himself. He’d asked whether you had a matching one, to which you replied that you’d done this far too many times to spill any flour and that your outfit would be ruined with it. He’d let his eye roam your figure, taking in the sweatshirt you’d stolen from him yesterday, claiming it smelt like him, along with the cute giraffe print pyjama bottoms you adored so much; your hair clipped back messily, sleeves pulled up to your elbows, and Charles swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful.

He was elbow deep in dough before he knew it, hands sticky with egg yolk and flour, the substance sticking to his skin despite how hard he was trying to pull it off. You were standing next to him, your own ball of dough perfectly rolled and kneaded, hands free of any lingering blobs of dough. A piece of hair had fallen into your face, and you’d used your shoulder to attempt to push it back behind your ear again, huffing when it returned to block your vision. Something had just felt so right - he could imagine doing this after a hectic race weekend, coming home to you making a fresh batch of pasta to go with his favourite white sauce, love songs in the background and wine glass in hand. He thought of you standing at this very kitchen counter, flour smudged on your face as you taught a mini version of you how to knead dough, and how to use the pasta machine that he knew was going to come very close to sucking in his fingers.

“Charlie? You ok, my love? Pasta isn’t that hard to make, baby, you just need more flour.”

You’d looked over to catch him staring at you, cheeks red and eyes glazed, and it took everything in him to not spit out how much he loved you. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops, post it on every social media platform, say it over and over until your heart was beating as fast as his was. He watched as you leaned over, sprinkling more flour onto his hands, and all he could do was smile.

————————-

The second time Charles almost confessed the inner workings of his heart was during a race weekend - Spa, to be exact. Spa was a race that was heavy with memories, good and bad. Antoine’s ghost still lingered at every corner, and the cheers of the 2019 crowd still rang in his ears during his track walk. It was a weekend that stirred up a plethora of emotions, contrasting and deep, and it weighed on him. He’d made it a point to leave flowers for his friend every year, joining Pierre alongside the track when they went to pay their respects. This would be the first time you would be by his side, at your insistence. He’d told you countless times that it was he was perfectly fine with just Pierre for company, that you didn’t have to drag yourself out there with him and get soaked, but you wouldn’t back down.

“I don’t care whether it’s storming or if people are passing out from the heat, Charles Leclerc, I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not. You’ve gone through enough on your own, and I’m not letting you do it again, not while I’m here.”

He’d stood in silence, gaping at you until your expression faltered and your hands fell from their resting place on your hips. You were halfway through stammering an apology, explaining that you just didn’t want him to be going through that alone, that you were always there for him when he surged forward and kissed you, hands cradling your face.

He was so overwhelmed in that moment, thoughts of Antoine floating through his head, a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that it could be his turn this weekend, that he’d never get to tell you how he feels. He pulled back, thumbs brushing over your delicate cheeks, lips forming the words, when suddenly,

“Charles! You have a press conference in 5! Get a move on!”

Fred’s voice broke through the bubble, and you both jumped, startled by the shout. A weight settled in his chest, Charles desperately looking back at you, hoping that what he didn’t have a chance to say was evident in his eyes. You smiled back at him as if to say “me too”, and that was the end of that.

————————-

The third time was during family dinner. His mother had invited the two of you, along with Arthur, Lorenzo and their respective partners, over to her cosy house in Monaco for an evening meal. You had spent the last thirty minutes stressing over whether or not you looked good enough to meet “the woman who gave birth to the prince of Monaco” and thirty minutes before that stressing over which wine to take, if any. Once a good enough Chardonnay had been chosen (a 20 year old bottle you had been gifted by your boss and had deemed too fancy to just open over a plate of pasta at home), and your hair curled and make up painted to perfection, you turned to look at Charles, smiling, shooting him a “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” and he couldn’t help but laugh.

The drive to his mother’s house was fairly uneventful, with him humming along to a French song playing on the radio, one hand on the wheel and the other situated on your thigh, slipping in between the slit of cherry red, silk dress you had chosen for the occasion. The windows were down, the wind whipping through your hair, and you were smiling and singing along with him, a pretty picture of contentment.

You had calmed down by the time the two of you had reached the front door, confident enough to greet his mother with a hug and a kiss to the cheek, laughing when she said that you looked “absolutely amazing, chèrie”. You had bantered with his brothers, giving as good as you got, helped set the table and pick the music, and had even taken over Arthur’s babysitting duties, spending time playing dolls with his little nieces. Looking at how well you fit in with his family made Charles’ heart beat out of his chest. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see his Maman standing next to him, a light smile on her lips.

“She’s the one, my boy.” she said, and all Charles could do was nod in agreement, quietly saying the words,

“I think I love her, maman.”

Pascale simply smiled, and turned to walk back to the kitchen.

————————

He actually got through the first word and a half the fourth time. It seemed like whenever Charles actually got the opportunity to tell you he loved you, something or the other interrupted him, and this time was no exception. He never thought he would end up here, in a dingy club bathroom, wine stain on his brand new white shirt, and you standing by the sink laughing at him.

He had just won the Australian GP, Carlos coming in a close second, and Daniel stealing the third step of the podium. The season had started well for the team, and in natural Ferrari fashion, they had all gotten dressed up and found their way to the nearest club. Drinks flowed, partners were found and dragged to the dance floor, sweaty bodies pressed so close that it was hard to figure out who was who. He had been walking back from the bar, his and your drinks in hand, making his way back to his fellow drivers and you in a pretty black dress you’d picked out earlier in the day, when someone had bumped into him, wine spilling and staining his shirt. You’d turned at the noise that escaped his throat, an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, and had kept a straight face for all of three seconds before you were laughing.

You’d taken the now empty glasses from his hands, set them down on the table and looped your arm through his, pulling him in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You know, now might not be the best time for a quickie, mon ètoile, my shirt is soaked.”

You had simply looked back at him, and told him that that was “even more reason to get that shirt off him”, your tone insinuating that you wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. Once in the bathroom, the door locked and lights on, you’d beelined for the tissues, soaking them in a little water and soap before turning back to him with a determined look in your eyes. Instructing him to hold still, you’d taken to trying to scrub the stain out, armed with tissue that was on the verge of disintegrating. He knew the stain wasn’t going to budge, a voice that sounded like his mother’s telling him that he’d need hydrogen peroxide or vinegar at the very least, but he let you grip his shirt regardless, perching himself on the lip of the sink and pulling you closer to stand in between his legs. His eyes roved over your face, taking in the slight crease in between your eyebrows, and your teeth biting at your lower lip. There was something so endearing about the way you looked trying to rub something as stubborn as a wine stain out of his clothes that made him want to never let you go.

Tell her now, you idiot, who cares if you’re in a club bathroom, it’ll make for an interesting story to tell your kids later, he thought to himself.

“Ma chèrie?”, he waited for you to look up from his shirt before continuing, “I lo-“

“Charles! Did you manage to get that wine out yet? We’re waiting to order the next round of shots, mate, hurry up!”

The banging on the door, combined with his teammate’s voice, had interrupted him, the moment well and truly over. He grumbled to himself, something about never having a moment of peace, before looking up at you, nodding his head towards the direction of the door.

There was always next time.

————————-

It had been a quiet moment, just you and him somewhere on the coast of Monaco, yacht rocking with the waves, peaceful. The day had started the way it usually did, the sun streaming into his eyes as you curled into his side, screwing your eyes shut in a vain effort to try and sleep a little longer. He’d kissed you, slow and soft, before whispering a hushed good morning, smiling when he got a sleepy mumble in response. He’d pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, with you whining as he jostled you, only quieting down when he pulled you back into the warmth of his arms. The two of you had stayed there for another half an hour, drifting in and out of consciousness before your stomach rumbled, effectively declaring that it was time to get out of bed and start working on breakfast. Charles knew you didn’t usually like to eat in the mornings, claiming that it made you feel slightly nauseous, but that you were an absolute sucker for a good cup of coffee and waffles, so he set out to make exactly that whilst you were in the shower.

It was not going well, to say the least. He’d even pulled up a waffle recipe on his phone, specifying to Google that he needed one that was beginner friendly. It had started out well, with him grabbing all the ingredients listed, even going so far as to grab the measuring cups you used when you baked the vanilla cookies he loved so much; and then he actually had to start putting everything together. He’d ended up cracking the first egg with far too much force, causing it to spill all over his hand, with slivers of the shell ending up in the bowl below. Once he had fished out the infuriatingly small pieces out of the egg mixture and added the milk, he got to work measuring out the flour, only to misjudge how heavy the bag was, and spilling it all over the counter and himself. He was stood stock still, face stuck in disbelief when you had walked in, freezing as you took in the scene unfolding in your kitchen.

“Oh, my love” was all you’d managed to get out, before you were making your way over to him, brushing your thumb across his cheek and saying “You’ve got a little something there.”

Once the breakfast disaster was cleaned, and you had taken over to make edible waffles, the two of you had migrated to the living room, curling up on the couch under your favourite fluffy blanket, armed with snacks to start a movie marathon. Sundays during summer break were reserved for snacking on salted caramel ice cream and brain-rotting romcoms, and it was tradition for you and Charles to bicker over which movie was put on first. Charles knew he would give in after the first minute of arguing, when you pulled out the big guns and flashed a sweet smile at him, and today was no different. He was glad it was no different.

The day had passed in a haze of kisses, sweet fruit and good wine. The weather was beautiful, wonderfully warm with a light breeze, and Charles had stated that it was the perfect night for a picnic under the stars on his yacht, ushering you in the direction of your room, telling you to get dressed. He grabbed a few more bottles of the wine you had been loving in the last couple of days, cutting up fruits and cubes of cheese for your impromptu picnic, before packing it all up into a small basket you could take with you. You’d come out of the bedroom in a white summer dress, and Charles felt his heart stop at the sight of you. You looked ethereal, like his own personal angel, and he told you as much, before gently taking hold of your hand and leading you to his car, picnic basket in hand.

You had been out on the water for an hour or so when you had leaned into Charles, your head resting on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his. He’d looked down at you and smiled, all dimples and warmth, before leaning down and kissing you softly, his lips just brushing over yours. You’d settled in and were sharing your second bottle of wine, looking up at the stars and talking about everything and nothing, the topic of your conversation ranging from who could find the most constellations to new recipes you wanted to try out the next time you had the chance. Charles was watching you ramble about a new cake recipe that you’d seen (or was it pie? He was hardly paying attention, too caught up in the way your eyes lit up and the way your cheeks flushed) when he just blurted it out.

“I love you.”

You had stopped midway through your sentence, words suddenly sticking to the inside your throat as you gazed up at him. He was looking at you with glazed eyes, the stars reflected in them, and panicking because what if you didn’t say it back? What if he had misread the situation so badly and had ended up ruining a perfectly good day because he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself like-

“I love you too.”

And just like that, the breath was knocked out of his chest. You loved him. Him, Charles Leclerc, you loved him. He wanted to hear those words every single day, every morning when he woke up, every night before he went to sleep, every day for the rest of his life.

“Say it again”, he begged, needing to make sure you were really saying that you loved him, and this wasn’t just some sick, twisted dream, a figment of his imagination. You repeated it in hushed whisper, again and again, watching as the dimpled smile you had come to adore grew on his face, before pushing yourself up and kissing him again.

Yes, today had been the perfect day.

Best friends' brother - Charles Leclerc x reader

Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Summary: You and Arthur Leclerc had been best friends since you were children but it wasn’t the younger Leclerc brother you’d be in the sheets with and a one night stand can hold a lifetime of regret.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, pregnancy, swearing, angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.1K

—

Your heart pounded in your chest as you held onto the pregnancy test. It was one stupid mistake, one stupid, drunk mistake. Charles had finally won in Monaco for the first time which meant the celebrations would last until the sun came up. You and Arthur attended together; you just didn’t leave together. You and Charles evidently spent a lot of time with one another, especially when Arthur was racing. The pair of you would spend hours talking and enjoying one another's presence. You couldn’t lie to yourself that Charles wasn’t attractive, and he evidently thought the same about you. He’d always leave light touches on your waist and his eyes would linger on you just a little too long, yet nothing ever came out of it. Neither you or he would make a move or even mention it, you just acted like everything was normal, that was until the celebrations. 

Everything was fine until you lost Arthur. You scanned the club to find him but you were found by the older Leclerc. His eyes locked onto yours as he snuck his hand around your waist, pulling you into his side. He leant down, his eyes still on you as he held you tighter before connecting his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate, not caring if anyone was watching you two from afar. He dragged you to his hotel room and the rest was history well… so you thought. 

The next morning you woke up to a number of missed calls from Arthur and a sleeping Charles beside you. You left faster than he could drive but part of you wanted to stay, you wished you could have spent the morning in his arms but for Arthurs sake you simply couldn’t. Since that day you’d avoided Charles like the plague although that was easier said than done, especially as he was your best friends' brother, but you managed. That was until Arthur started to notice. 

“y/n?” Arthurs voice filled your flat. Your eyes snapped up from the test in your hands and towards the door. He burst through your bedroom door just as you slipped the test under the duvet. “Where have you been?” He arched his brows, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. 

“I haven’t been feeling well.” Technically that wasn’t a lie. “So I’ve just stayed at home -”

“You’ve never been away from my races, even when you’re ill.”

You shrugged, not wanting to look at him for two long. “I couldn’t stop throwing up, can’t exactly turn up to a race like that.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have come round and looked after you. You always looked after me when I was ill.” He smirked, the annoyed expression leaving his face as he moved to sit beside you. Your heart dropped as he sat beside you, hoping he wouldn’t feel the test he was sitting on but your luck didn’t go that far. He rose to his feet once again, scrunching his face up as he pulled the duvet back to see what he’d sat on. 

“Arthur -”

“What the fuck is this?” He snatched the test and held it up. “Is this a…?”

“Yes…” 

He looked down at the test, checking the result. 

Positive. 

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” His eyes met yours. “Because you’re fucking pregant and didn’t want me finding out?” 

“I just found out Arthur!” You found your voice. “Look I just felt sick so I stayed away thinking it was a bug and then my period was late so I had to check…”

“Who’s the dad?” 

He asked the one question you forever wished you could avoid. 

You didn’t answer, your eyes welling up with tears when you knew you had to answer his question. It wouldn’t be hard to lie to him but everything would come to light and you knew it. Charles was his brother and even if you lied to Charles he would know that it was his kid. It was like the universe wanted you to suffer even more because before you could answer him a sudden knock at the door grabbed your attention. 

“Bet that’s the dad.” Arthur said, no emotion in his voice as he went to answer the door. “So what is he a secret boyfriend you’ve kept from me?” He looked back at you before he opened the door only to be met with the worried expression of his older brother. 

“Is y/n here?” Charles asked just as you walked up behind his brother. 

Arthurs eyes squinted at his brother, his face going back to its confused expression. “Why are you here?” 

“Arthur!” You snapped at your best friend. 

Charles coughed nervously as he looked between the two of you. He’d always wondered if something was secretly happening with the two of you but the night you’d slept with him confirmed to him that you were all his well, he wished you were. 

“Just came to see y/n -”

“Why?” Arthur leant against the door, still now allowing his brother to enter your flat. “You see her at the races -”

“That’s the point.” Charles looked at him like he was an idot. “I haven’t seen her since she left mine in Monaco.” Charles didn’t mean to let it slip but it was too late to take it back now. 

“Left yours?” Arthur arched his brow. “What the night of the party?” He quickly looked back at you and then back at his brother as he suddenly connected the dots. 

Ever since the celebrations in Monaco you hadn’t gone near Charles. If he came over to the pair of you in a rare occasion that you had turned up to the track you would always find an excuse to leave before he could utter a word to you. 

Arthur suddenly spun on his heels, looking at you before yelling. “Is it him?” His tone made you jump slightly. “Is he the dad?”

“The dad?” Charles looked over to you before he too connected the dots. “Are you…?”

“It is you!” Arthur turned back to face his brother. “It was the night you won wasn’t it?” 

“Arthur…” Charles went to speak but was suddenly stopped. 

“Everything I have you want, I am always in your shadow and you know that!” Arthur was close to tears himself. “She’s my friend Char not yours…”

“I’m still your friend Arthur, nothings changed -” Your voice was soft but Arthur didn’t care. 

“Yes it has! You went and fucked my brother and now you’re pregnant with his kid!” His eyes filled with tears. “I trusted you y/n, I told you everything about me, we never lie to one another, we made that promise when we were kids… you know how much it hurts to be in his shadow all the time, just once I wanted something for myself, even if that was just a best friend and now I don’t even have that.” He didn’t wait for you or Charles to speak. He shoved Charles out of the way and stormed out of your building.

It was now your turn to cry, not caring if Charles was still in front of you. He didn’t say anything as he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapped around you as he kissed the top of your head, soothing you as you cried into his shirt. “It’ll be okay.” He mumbled. “I promise you.”

He hated seeing you upset. His feelings for you had grown far beyond a one-night stand or the girl that turned up to every single race, but you were off limits. You were his brother's best friend; someone he knew he could never be with but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. He would happily let Arthur ignore and hate him for however how long it took just so he could have you.

“No Charles.” You pulled your head back to look up at him. “It won’t be. I can’t break you and Arthur apart, I can’t -”

“You haven’t broken me and Arthur apart, he’ll get over it -”

“No Char he won’t.” You stepped away. “He’s right he’s always been in your shadow. He just wants to race alongside you in Formula 1. He needs you more than he needs me, and I refuse to be the one that breaks that bond between you both. He won’t just get over it, he never just gets over things -”

“Are you trying to tell me you know more about my own brother than I do?”

“Yes I am!”

“Oh come on you just turn up to watch him race every week -”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” You sent a glare in his direction, one he knew he deserved.

“When did you find out?” He changed the subject. 

“Today.” Your eyes met his. “Just before Arthur came over.” You leant against your kitchen sink. “He sat on the test and that’s how he found out.” Your eyes looked over to the test sitting on the kitchen counter that Arthur had dumped as he opened the front door. Charles made his way over to the test, taking it in his hands to see the results for himself.

“I don’t want a kid, not now -”

“You and me both Leclerc but I can’t just get pregant on my own can I?” You ran a hand through your hair. “This was all a mistake, we should have never of spent the night together, if I could take it back then I would.” 

Your words killed him. Sure, he didn’t want a child yet but that didn’t mean he didn’t want one in the future. But he also didn’t want you to regret spending the night with him, for Charles if he could relive the moment again, he would. He wanted it to happen again and again, he even planned to be with you but hide it from Arthur. He had the perfect life with you all planned out in his head but clearly things weren’t meant to be. 

“Do you really mean that?” He looked down at you, fighting back every word he wanted to say. “Would you take everything back? You and I?”

“We would never work Charles. It was never meant to be… it was a bit of fun that went wrong.” Your eyes met his. “Nothing more.”

“Fine.” He nodded, setting the test down. “Are you keeping it?” 

“I don’t know -”

“When you’d made up your mind let me know.” His eyes looked almost glass like as the tears slowly filled his eyes. “If you keep it, I’ll pay child support, but I don’t want anything to do with it.” He left without another word, he hated himself for it.

He didn’t mean it. He wasn’t lying about not wanting a kid now but that didn’t mean he’d want to leave his child without a father and leave you without support. He just knew how stubborn you could be and how you wouldn’t change your mind about walking out on the two of them, so the brothers still had one another. Charles needed time and he knew you needed time too. He planned to find Arthur and tell him how he felt about you, he needed to tell him everything and mend what had been broken to prove to you things can work but you had other plans. You couldn’t break the brothers apart and with you not around you hoped they’d forget about what had happened and move on with their lives. Not wanting to pick between them you got up and left, everything you once owned came with you and you left Monaco. 

It was probably a stupid decision just to pack everything and leave but, in the moment, it felt right and sometimes you just have to go with your gut when it comes to certain things and that was one of those times. You’d moved to England, more specifically a small village in the north of England, hopefully somewhere where no one knew who you were and luckily for you they didn’t.

The village was mainly home to elderly residents and a few small families. It was quiet and out of the way with a good community, the perfect hideaway for you and your son. You now lived in one of the cottages that overlooked the river which flowed through the streets. It was so different to Monaco but in the best way possible. Looking down at your son who was fast asleep in his cot you couldn’t help but regret the words you’d said to Charles. How could you ever regret having your son? 

Charles crossed your mind everyday, so did Arthur but things were for the best. You would secretly look at their Instagram accounts on a burner account and noticed the two posting photos of one another and filming eachother for their stories. They had healed what had happened. Arthur wouldn’t forget what happened but he could forgive his brother with time and it’s clear to see that time healed them both. 

What you didn’t know was that you crossed the brothers minds everyday too. Charles kept a photo of you in his helmet so no matter how far away you really were you would always be close to him. He often found himself wondering if you had a boy or a girl and if they had your eyes or his nose. It pained him more than he thought it ever would seeing other drivers with their children and their wives, he wanted that. 

“If you keep staring you might not ever look away.” Arthur had caught Charles doing just that. He was staring at Checo and his children, smiling at the way he placed his helmet on their tiny heads. 

“You still think she had a girl?” Charles asked his brother. 

“Definetly, you still team boy?”

“I know it’s a boy.” Charles smiled, tearing his attention away from Checo and his family. “It’s been over a year now, if he came on time, he’d be eight months old now.” He looked at Arthur. “I need to find her.”

“We will.” He gave his brother a reassuring smile. “But if y/n doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be. We always said we’d never lie to one another, but she was good at lying, the best poker face I’ve ever seen.” Arthur thought fondly of the memories. If only he could go back and change the past.

“Mr Leclerc?” A voice grabbed the brothers attention. They spun around to meet the eyes of an older woman. She smiled at them both, looking at them as if they were long lost family members. 

“Which one?” Arthur asked. 

“Both of you!” Her voice lit up. “I presume you two know who y/n y/l/n is?” 

Both brothers shared a glance of urgency before looking back at the women before them. “Yes!” They spoke in unison. 

“Good, I thought I’d gotten the wrong sport!” She laughed to herself. 

“What do you know about y/n?” Charles asked, his voice filled with worry. 

“Don’t sound so worried! She’s fine! She’s my neighbour!” The two boys had a million and one questions but the woman beat them to it. “I’m Margaret.” She held her hand out for the two of them to take. “She lives in England. We’ve grown rather close since I’ve been babysitting the little one for her whilst she has some time for herself. She spoke about you two and I knew I recognised your names somewhere. She would kill me if she knew I was here but… I lost the love of my life over a mistake, and I can’t watch her do the same.” 

Margaret was in fact your neighbour. She helped move you into your new home and was also the woman who bought you Leo, your dog. He’d been trained by a local farmer to put your mind at ease whilst you lived alone before your son arrived. Due to her kindness, you often opened up to her about your life. You told her about Arthur and Charles, something you hadn’t told anyone else before. 

Margaret understood your pain as she to lost those close to her. She fell in love with someone she knew her parents would never approve of and instead of standing up for them she let them go, letting the love of her life be belittled by her family and never keeping them close to her and she knew she couldn’t let you do the same thing. 

She told them everything including where you now lived. Charles didn’t waste a second, ignoring the fact that he still had to race that afternoon he threw his helmet to the side, telling Ferrari to tell the press he was sick and needed the reserve driver to take over for this weekend. 

“Are you coming?” Charles called after Arthur as he started to leave the paddock. 

“No.”

“What?” Charles spun around and stopped in his tracks. “Arthur I thought -”

“She needs to see you more than me.” He gave him a light smile. “She had your child, not mine and that kid needs you. Tell her how you feel, not just for her sake but for mine. Fed up with you complaining about how much you like her.” 

Charles pulled his brother into a quick hug. “Thank you.” 

Whilst Charles was on his way to you, you were wrapping up to brace the English autumn weather to take Leo for a walk. You wrapped your son up so he wouldn’t be cold before lowering him into his pram. Leo placed his head onto the pram, looking down at the small boy. Smiling you pet his head as you threw your coat and scarf on. “Good boy.” You praised the dog as you grabbed his lead and harness and leaving the house.

You glanced over at Margaret's cottage yet never saw her in the small front window, knitting away some sort of blanket for your son or even one for Leo. “Must be out.” You muttered to yourself before pushing the pram towards the trail in the woods. You would never get used to a view like this, the way the golden leaves danced through the sky before hitting the ground. It was such a simple sight but after flying from country to country due to the Leclerc brothers you never got to experience anything like this. 

Leaning down slightly you let Leo off the lead when the two of you had entered the woods, letting the dog sprint around to his heart desires but he always kept close to you, just in case. Smiling down at your son you took out your phone to take a photo of the boy. He had his dad’s eyes and your nose. A perfect mix of the two of you. 

“y/n!” A sudden voice grabbed your attention, a voice you knew all too well. Turning around you met the face of Charles Leclerc. He was jogging up to you, something Leo saw as a threat. The German Shepherd dropped his ball and ran towards you, standing in front of you he lunged at Charles, barking and growling at the man before him. 

“Leo down.” You held his harness, pulling him back slightly. The dog stood back but kept his attention onto the stranger ahead of him. 

“Since when did you get a dog?” Charles was breathing heavily, his face terrified of the animal.

“Since I lived alone.” You met his worried gaze. “How did you find me?” 

“I didn’t stop looking since you left, nor did Arthur.” 

“Is he here?”

“No but he’s coming… I promise you he’ll be here.” Your sons cry grabbed your attention, still holding onto Leo you looked back at the boy. 

“Oh baby it’s okay.” Your free hand carefully scooped him up, placing him against your chest you started to rock him back and forth as best you could whilst holding onto your dog so he didn’t attempt murder on Charles. “Shh… shh…”

Charles felt time stop. His heart burting with pride at the sight of the woman he loved his son before him. “Is that -”

“He’s yours Charles.” You smiled at him.

“He?”

“Hmm, you have a son.” 

“Arthur owes me a lot of money.” 

“Sorry?” 

“We had a bet… if he was a girl or a boy, I said boy, he said girl.” 

You arched your brows at the man. “You two haven’t changed.” You looked back at your son. “Do you want to hold him?”

His face softened. “I’d want nothing more.” Charles stepped closer, still weary of your dog as you handed the child to his father. Anyone who walked past the two of you would have thought he’d been there since day one, he was a natural to this. “What did you name him?”

“Rowan.” You smiled, putting Leo back on his lead. “He has your eyes.”

“And your nose.” Charles smiled before he looked back at you. “Why did you leave?”

“You said you didn’t want a baby-”

“That doesn’t mean you had to leave.”

“I didn’t know what to do. You didn’t want to be a part of his life which meant not being a part of mine. Arthur hated me which meant I had lost you both and that was something I couldn’t live with. You know how small Monaco is, I knew I’d see you two at one point and I couldn’t face you two after that so I left. Moved here and now I’m never going back to Monaco, I’m raising Rowan here, I needed a new start and travelling around the world isn’t a life for a child.”

“Then I’ll move here.” His voice was full of urgency. “For over a year I could never stop thinking about you. I have always liked you and I just thought it was because of how you bullied my brother, the way you always knew everything about motorsports, I loved it. It was only when we grew up with one another I knew I loved you. I can’t apologise for everything that happened when you fell pregnant. I should have been with you through the pregnancy, throughout everything. When I said I didn’t want a child, I meant right now. I panicked and when Arthur and I spoke everything through you were already gone.” 

He held his son close to him, holding his right hand out as he balanced Rowan in his left. Taking his hand into yours you stepped closer to him. “I lied to you the last time we spoke.” He was taken back by your words but continued to listen. “I don’t regret spending the night with you, I don’t regret anything we did and I do love you.” 

“Neither do I.” He leant down, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “But now I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good because I really need someone to feed him during the night, he’s teething and I need sleep.” 

Charles laughed, this time dipping his head down to capture your lips into his. The kiss was far overdue. Your lips were sweet against his own, a taste he always wanted to feel. His hand left yours and cupped your cheek, pulling you closer into his chest as best he could without disturbing Rowan. He deepened the kiss as you got closer, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip when you pulled away for a breath. 

“Please never leave again.” He muttered against your soft lips. 

“I won’t.” Your eyes met his. “I promise.” Charles leaned in again but jumped at a sudden loud bark. Leo narrowed his eyes at the brunette, if he could talk you knew he’d yell at Charles like he was a disobedient child. 

“I’m not putting up with him.” Charles backed away from the animal.

“Oh he’s fine.” You dropped to your knees so the dog could rest his head on your chest, wagging his tail a you gave him all the attention in the world. “He just needs to get used to you.”

“Margret never mentioned him…”

“Margret?” You looked up him, curiosity on your face. “How do you know who she is?” 

His eyes widened at his own words. Shit. “Probably shouldn’t have said that…”

Best Friends Brother - Charles Leclerc x reader - Part 2

Read Part One here

Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Summary: You and Arthur Leclerc had been best friends since you were children but it wasn’t the younger Leclerc brother you’d be in the sheets with and a one-night stand can hold a lifetime of regret.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Word Count: 3.5K

—

Arthur followed through with his promise and came to see you in England. The pair of you fell into one another's arms, tears streaming down your faces as the two of you rekindled your friendship and he stepped up to the role of Rowan’s uncle. Arthur always made sure you and Charles had time to yourselves which ultimately meant Rowan started to favour him over you both.

Charles picked up his life in Monaco and moved to England to be with you, his son… and the dog. He adapted to being a dad naturally, anyone would have thought he’d always been by your side through it all. He also made you a promise that he’d take you out for dates every week, that way the two of you got a break from Rowan and finally got time alone, then again the last time the two of you spent a night alone ended up with an unexpected stowaway. 

The pair of you had now been together for over a year, your son was now one and you agreed to something Charles had always begged you for, flying to Formula 1 so his son could watch him race. Flying back to Monaco was something you never thought you’d ever do again but for him, it was worth it. Charles rarely flew on his own, normally he and the rest of the grid apart from Max would all fly together but he wanted nothing more than to just relax with his family. 

You were sat in one of the chairs, Rowan laying on your chest as he tried to fall asleep having just eaten. He was much bigger than he was when Charles came back into his life, the only bonus was that he was sleeping through the night better. 

“I’ll take him, love.” Charles held his hands out for you. Obliging you handed Rowan to him, a small grin on your lips as you watched Charles’ face light up as he held his son. “God he’s getting big now.”

“He’ll start talking soon.”

“Don’t think I’m ready for that.” He sat opposite you, Rowan now clutching the collar of his shirt as he drifted off to sleep. “I just want him to stay small.” 

“It flies by but I won’t miss him waking us up during the middle of the night.” 

“I think I’ll miss all of it.” Charles planted a kiss on Rowan's forehead. “Apart from changing his nappy.” 

“You’ll still have to do that for now.” You replied, the pair of you sharing a light laugh. 

“Do you want another?” Charles suddenly asked. 

“Not yet.” You replied. 

He smiled at your response before he replied. “I’d like a daughter next.” His soft eyes met yours. “Obviously not yet but maybe when Rowan gets older and the two of us can finally get some decent sleep.” 

“That means you’ll be around for the pregnancy and that isn’t easy.” 

“You won’t have to do a thing when I’m around.” 

“I’ll hold you to that Leclerc.” 

Charles had successfully qualified on pole for his home race, something he was considerably pleased about but also something he was incredibly worried about. The curse of his home race haunted him every time he looked at the track. Whether Ferarri messed up his strategy or found himself lodged into a wall, Charles could never finish the race. But this year he hoped for it to be different. 

He was currently waiting in the Ferarri garage for the race to begin, Rowan on his lap as he looked at the bright red car before him. You’d dressed your son in Ferarri merchandise, specifically a shirt with his dad’s number on it.

Rowan made grabby hands and started to make noises at the car before him. Holding him close Charles stood up and moved towards the car. He smiled as the small boy grabbed the side of the car, giggling as he did so. With a gleaming smile on his lips, Charles climbed into the car and held his son close to him. Rowan couldn’t hold his laughter as he grabbed onto everything around him. 

“Think we might have another racing driver in the family,” Charles announced as he laughed at his son. You mirrored his actions, your heart always melted at the sight of him with Rowan. He took to being a Dad so naturally, from the moment he came back into your life he took to Rowan so effortlessly and acted as if the two of you had been dating for years. 

Charles tried to enjoy the moment with him but his mind was racing with worried thoughts. “Don’t look so worried Char.” You spoke up, watching as Charles only smiled when Rowan looked back at him. “Not finishing in P1 won’t be the end of the world.” 

The brunette let his eyes fall on you. “I know but it’s my home race, the rest of the drivers have won theirs, I just want to win mine.” 

“And you will.” You stepped over to him, leaning down to plant a kiss on his lips. 

“And if I don’t?”

“If you keep believing that you won’t win it then you won’t.” 

As Charles went to reply but one of the mechanics told him it was time for him to make his way to the track. He held Rowan out for you to take before sharing one last kiss before he got his helmet on and braced himself for the race of his life. 

Rowan and you sat watching him inside the garages. Rowan had a pair of Ferarri headphones to block out the noise as he watched his father race. Every time the car appeared on the screen Rowan let out a giggle, his tiny hands pointing to the screen. Everyone in the garages loved him, Daniel wouldn’t stop bothering him when he saw the three of you in the hotel… at least you knew you always had a spare babysitter in him if needed. 

Every single time Charles approached a corner your heart stopped but he was okay. The man was going to send you into cardiac arrest every time he sped up around a sharp bend but he was fine, even when Max was breathing down his neck. Both you and Charles felt every single second of that race but he was across the finish line with only lapped cars in front of him. For the first time in his career, he’d won his home race and both the love of his life and son were there to witness it. 

The only time you’d ever seen Charles this happy was when he saw you in the woods with Rowan and the dog a year ago. Leaping out of his car he hurled himself towards you as he threw his helmet aside. Cupping your jaw Charles pulled your lips onto his whilst his hands held you as close to him as you could get. He deepened the kiss slightly but unfortunately had to pull away sooner than he would’ve liked. 

“Everything is perfect.” His eyes met yours as he spoke before being dragged away for the celebrations. You’d never been prouder of him, it was a moment you wished you could’ve frozen in time for you all to look back on. 

—

Formula 1 had ended for the season and now in the cold English weather, Charles was taking you both to a restaurant just outside the village whilst Arthur came and babysat. He was dressed in a smart black suit paired with a red tie whilst you adorned a stunning slip dress that Charles had bought you for Christmas.

“Right you know what you’re doing, don’t you?” Charles had cornered Arthur in your living room whilst you finished settling your son down. 

“I’ve looked after him a million times, it’ll be fine.” Arthur shrugged his brother off as he watched you rock the child into an easy slumber. “Besides he’s asleep, hopefully, he’ll stay like that until the two of you come back and you two can deal with the screaming child all night.” 

“It’ll be Charles dealing with him and besides he doesn’t scream like he used to but he he does then Charles can deal with him seeing that he’s the one on holiday.” Referencing the winter break you stepped towards the brothers. “He’ll be fine anyway, he’ll need to be changed and he may need another feed depending on how late we get back. The bottles are in the fridge, just don’t forget to sterilise them when you’re done.” 

“I won’t, I promise.” 

“You remember how to do that right?” Charles added. 

“I know what I’m doing.” Arthur gave Charles a dumbfounded look before he spoke again. “If anything goes wrong I’ll call you two straight away. You know that.” Charles gave him a light nod before he turned back to you. He planted a kiss on your cheek before leaning down to kiss Rowan’s forehead. 

“Leo’s already been walked and fed, he’ll let you know when he needs the bathroom. You just might need to burn off some energy with him outside, he can occasionally get restless when we aren’t home -”

“When you aren’t home.” Charles corrected, sending you a look. “He loves it when I’m gone.”

“He’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“It’s been over a year and he hates me,” The dog seemed to narrow his gaze at your boyfriend as he spoke. “Look how he’s looking at me!”

“Because he knows you’re talking shit about him.” You held Rowan out for Charles. “You can put Rowan down and I’ll just run Arthur through Leo’s schedule as he clearly hates you.” A smile spread across your lips when Charles muttered a string of insults towards the dog under his breath whilst he trudged upstairs to put Rowan down.

“Why does he hate Charles?” Arthur leant down allowing Leo to come towards him. The german shepherd always seemed fond of the younger Leclerc brother.

“Well, they do say dogs can sense things we can’t. I think he knows what happened and when Charles ran up to us in the woods it meant Leo saw him as a threat. It’ll take time.” 

“Surely he’s got used to him now, the two of you finally made it official and now you live together.” 

“Maybe he’s just jealous.” You now followed suit with Arthur’s actions, bending down to meet Leo. The dog trotted towards you, letting his head crash into your chest as you smoothed down his fur. 

“Think Charles is the jealous one.” An annoyed-looking Charles leaning up against the doorway caught your and Arthur's attention.

“I’m not jealous of the dog, he just needs to know boundaries.”

“He does know boundaries.” 

“When it comes to the house he does, he won’t even let me kiss you without sparing me a dirty look.”

“He’s a dog, Char.” 

“An annoying one at that.” 

You didn’t plan to argue over who the dog preferred before your night so the two of you thanked Arthur and checked on Rowan one last time before heading out of the door. 

On your way to the restaurant Charles couldn’t keep his hands off you and his mouth would never close as he dropped every compliment he could think of during the journey but now he acted on edge. You watched as he continued to play with his ring and glance over at his phone every few seconds. 

He leaned back on his chair, letting out a narrow breath as his leg now started to bounce. Reaching forward you took your hand into his before speaking. “Char?”

“Hmm?” He attempted to keep his voice steady as he gripped your hand. 

“What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to have a panic attack -” 

“How are you so calm?”

“Sorry?” 

Charles leaned forward, his free hand grabbing yours as his enduring eyes met your curious ones. “How are you so calm being away from Rowan? Don’t you worry about him?”

“Of course I do.” Giving him a warm smile you continued. “But I know he’s safe with Arthur and before he and you came back into my life, Margret used to babysit him so I could have time to recover and just relax. I still worry about him but I know he’s safe and you know if anything was to happen Arthur could call us immediately.” 

“I know.” He returned the small smile. “But I still worry. I’ve already spent too much time away from him.” His grip on your hand tightened.

“But you’re here now and that’s all that matters. Besides Rowan won’t ever know -”

“But I will.” 

“I know you will but it’s in the past. It wasn’t your fault and Rowan will know that if we decide to tell him when he gets older.” 

“It was partly my fault -”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes it was -”

You gave him a look which screamed ‘let's not get into this argument again’ which caused Charles to let out a small smile before he leaned back into his chair. “You win.” He smirked as he picked up his drink and raised it to his lips. 

“I always do.” 

“Clearly.” His smirk grew as his eyes glued onto yours. 

The pair of you forgot about his worries as you continued to eat and drink. Charles lost himself in conversation and your eyes so much that he didn’t notice the three missed calls from his brother. It was only when you both went to pay the bill that you noticed the younger Leclerc had texted you. 

Arthur: Can you get Charles to call me? Or can you when you see this.

You: Is everything okay? Is Rowan okay?

Arthur: Rowan is fine, it’s Leo I’m worried about. Get Charles to call me.

You: Why him? He’s my dog.

Arthur: Please just get him to call me.

“Char?” You spoke just as Charles tipped your waiter.

“Yeah?”

“Arthur wants you to call him -”

“What?” He reached for his phone. “Is Rowan okay?”

“He’s fine apparently it’s the dog he’s worried about.” 

Charles furrowed his brows, confused at why his brother would want to ask him about Leo when it was pretty evident that your dog hated Charles. Despite him not being able to talk or even understand you both, Charles was convinced he knew what happened between you both and ultimately took your side in the whole situation. 

The brunette quickly called his brother, raising the phone to his ear as he spoke. “You okay?” He spoke to Arthur, his eyes meeting yours occasionally as the conversation continued. “It’s called Kingstone veterinary, it’s about ten minutes away. Take Rowan with you and we’ll meet you there.” 

“What’s going on?” Your voice was laced with worry at the mention of the vets. 

“Leo got into something he shouldn’t of.” 

“What?” Charles met your eyes, taking a deep breath he searched your worried eyes and debated if he should lie. “Charles, what did he get into?”

“I bought it ages ago, I wasn’t going to ask you anytime soon. I wanted to wait until the two of us set up the house how we wanted, went on more dates and when the time was right I was going to ask you to marry me. When I saw the ring I couldn’t not get it. It was perfect and now Leo managed to find it and decided he never wanted me to ask that question so he ate it.” He huffed before finishing. “That dog hates me -”

“You want to marry me?” 

His eyes softened at your words. “Of course I do y/n.” He once again took your hands into his. “I’ve always wanted you and I knew that I couldn’t have you because you were my brother’s best friend but I had a plan on how I’d get you… didn’t involve us having a son but I wouldn’t change it for the world now.” He raised your hands and planted a kiss on the top of them before his thumbs ran across your skin. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You mirrored his smile. “And as much as I’d love to stay here right now, you could have killed the dog with the ring so we might want to get to the vet.” 

“It’s not my fault that thing hates me!” He replied, standing up with you before the two of you left to meet Arthur at the vet. 

—

Arthur was sat in the waiting room with Rowan who was beginning to let out small cries, clearly missing his parents whilst Leo was undergoing surgery. Arthur knew how much Leo meant to you, after all, he was the reason why you felt so safe without him or Charles around. The boy let his leg bounce up and down as he tried to calm Rowan who did nothing but make his true feelings heard. 

“Shh… shhh…” Arthur attempted to silence the child but he refused to stay quiet. “Come on little man, your mum and dad will be here soon…” His eyes wandered to the pale clock mounted on the wall. “I hope so anyway…” 

With your hand in his, Charles dragged you through the doors of the practice. The sudden sound of the doors opening grabbed Arthur's attention, a sudden wash of relief on his face as he watched the two of you approach him with worried glances. Without a word falling from his lips, Charles scooped his son from his brother’s arms, holding Rowan in a safe embrace before swaying side to side in an attempt to calm the distressed baby. If there was one thing you adored about Charles it was how quickly he adapted to being a dad and his urge to protect Rowan. He never wanted to leave him for too long and if the two of you were in the company of others he would do everything in his power to not let go of Rowan, even if the family wanted to hold him. 

“Where’s Leo?” You asked as Arthur embraced you. 

“Undergoing surgery, they were worried the ring would get caught up in his intestines…” Arthur's eyes widened at his own words, his head snapped towards Charles as he ran a hand through his hair. “You told her what he ate, didn’t you?”

“Yes she knows… not much of a surprise now…” He replied, clearly upset that the proposal would now not come as a shock to you although he tried to convince himself you knew he’d ask you at one point. Your hand came up to his arm, lightly touching his skin as a silent way to let him know that you really didn’t care about the surprise. You had him and your son, that’s all you needed, you never needed a ring to prove your love for him. 

“Charles I -”

“Miss y/l/n?” An older voice caught your attention. You met the warming gaze of your vet Logan. “He’s out of surgery, you and your partner are welcome to see him now.” He gestured to the door behind him. 

“Is he okay?” Charles asked. 

“He’ll be fine. He’s a little high from the anaesthetic but that’ll pass. He can come home tonight and… I’m presuming you want the ring back… Mr Leclerc?” 

“As long as it doesn’t have his organs clinging to the diamond.” 

“Charming thought Charles.” Sparing a glance at your boyfriend you followed Logan into the surgery room where you saw a very high Leo. Despite his sorry state he started to wag his tail and whine at the sight of his family. “Hello boy…” You took his head in your hands, your thumbs smoothing his fur. “Where did you even hide the ring?” Turning back to Charles you asked the question on your mind. 

“In my underwear drawer… oh I swear to god if he’s put a hole in my fireproofs!” 

“Can’t you just ask Ferrari for more?”

“And explain how the dog tried to sabotage my plans to propose to you? I’d rather not be mocked for the rest of the season.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his annoyance before turning back to the dog. “How did you even get into that?”

“He’s been watching me -”

“Charles he’s a dog not James Bond.” 

“You never know…” He trailed off, stepping closer to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and gently pulled you into his side. “I’m sorry -”

“For what?” You turned your head towards his. 

“Ruining the surprise. I had everything planned out… I just needed the chance.”

“Char I know you love me and I know you love Rowan. I don’t need a ring to prove that. Yes, it would be nice to be married to you, I would love to call you my husband but the important thing is that we’re all back together. Rowan has his Dad and I have the man I love.” 

He didn’t say anything as he leaned down with only a smile on his lips and planted his lips onto yours, a silent gesture of agreement but even an operation wouldn’t stop Leo from voicing his opinion. The dog barked making Charles jump back from you. 

“I really hate him…”  

I love your writing. Could you please do a leclercxsister including all the brothers where she has diabetes and maybe a hypo while she is at a race or just with her brothers in general. Thank you

I'm a diabetic myself so I wrote this about what usually happens to me, I don't know if there is other manner to act :)

The roar of engines filled the air as Yn Leclerc watched her older brother Charles zoom past on the racetrack. She was perched in the garage, surrounded by the familiar faces of her family and the team. Arthur, her younger brother, had just finished his F2 race, and now they were all anxiously awaiting Charles' performance in the F1 race.

Yn was a devoted fan of her brothers' racing careers, but there was something more pressing on her mind today—her diabetes. She had managed her condition with utmost care, but the stress and excitement of the race had thrown her blood sugar levels out of balance.

As the race progressed, Yn's vision started to blur, and a familiar weakness swept over her body. She clutched her racing heart pendant, a good luck charm her brothers had given her, and realized she was experiencing a hypoglycemic episode—a hypo. Panic surged through her veins.

Lorenzo noticed her pale complexion and immediately grew concerned. "Y/N, are you feeling alright? You look a little off."

Y/N forced a smile, attempting to hide her discomfort. "Je vais bien, Lorenzo. Juste un peu fatiguée." (I'm fine, Lorenzo. Just a little tired)

But Lorenzo knew his sister better than anyone else. He recognized the signs when YN's blood sugar levels dropped, threatening to throw her into a dangerous hypoglycemic episode. Racing was Charles' passion, and he didn't want YN to miss a moment of it. So, he discreetly gestured to Andrea, Charles' trainer and performance coach, to check on her.

Andrea, a seasoned professional, understood Lorenzo's signal and approached YN. "Comment te sens-tu, YN? (How are you feeling, YN?)" he asked in a concerned tone.

YN's smile wavered slightly as she replied, "Je vais bien, Andrea. (I'm fine, Andrea.)"

Meanwhile, Y/N's condition worsened. Her legs grew weak, and she stumbled backward, grasping onto Lorenzo's arm for support.

"Merde," she muttered under her breath, her hands trembling. She knew she needed to act quickly before her condition worsened. YN turned to her brothers, panic evident in her eyes.

"Enzo" she called out urgently. "I need your help. My blood sugar is dangerously low. I'm having a hypoglycemic episode"

Andrea glanced at Lorenzo, who nodded subtly, and then turned his attention back to YN. "Donne-moi un instant” (Give me a moment)

Andrea swiftly reached into his bag and retrieved a small container of sugar tablets "YN, prends ça. (YN, take this)"

YN obediently followed Andrea's instructions, feeling a surge of energy coursing through her veins once more. The world began to stabilize, and her focus sharpened.

"Thank you, Lorenzo. And thank you, Andrea," YN murmured, her voice filled with gratitude.

Lorenzo smiled warmly at his sister. "C'est ce que la famille fait, YN. Nous sommes là pour toi. (That's what family does, YN. We're here for you.)"

As YN regained her strength, she turned her attention back to the race. Charles was now locked in a fierce battle for the lead. His skills were undeniable, and YN couldn't help but marvel at his determination.

Joris, Charles' photographer and one of his closest friends, joined the Leclerc siblings, his camera capturing every moment of the race. "Ça y est, YN! Charles est en tête! (There you go, YN! Charles is in the lead!)" he exclaimed, excitement lacing his voice.

Meanwhile, Charles had no idea about the turmoil unfolding in the garage. He was wholly focused on the race, pushing his limits on the track. But in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake off the worry for his sister. The bond between the Leclerc siblings was unbreakable, and he had felt her absence in his peripheral vision.

Back in the garage, Yn's vision slowly cleared as her blood sugar levels stabilized. She took a deep breath, grateful for her brothers and the support of the entire team. The room erupted into relieved whispers and gentle pats on her back.

"Merci à tous. Je vais bien maintenant." (Thank you, everyone. I'm fine now) Yn managed a smile

Arthur sighed in relief and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Yn, je suis tellement soulagé que ça aille mieux." (Yn, I'm so relieved that you're feeling better)

Lorenzo's eyes welled up with tears, pride and love emanating from his voice. "Yn, tu es une battante. Tu nous as donné une sacrée peur, mais tu as su te relever. Nous sommes fiers de toi." (Yn, you're a fighter. You scared us, but you managed to rise above it. We're proud of you)

Yn looked around the garage, the faces of her brothers, Andrea, Joris, and the rest of the team filled with support and admiration. In that moment, she felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude. She was not alone in her journey as a diabetic; her family and her extended racing family were always by her side.

As the race neared its end, Charles crossed the finish line, securing a podium finish. The Leclerc family erupted into cheers, their previous worries momentarily forgotten in the celebration of their collective achievements.

In the midst of the jubilant chaos, Charles caught sight of his younger sister, her smile a beacon of strength and resilience. He made his way through the crowd, pushing aside photographers and journalists, until he reached Yn's side

He enveloped her in a bear hug, whispering in her ear, "Lolo told me what happened, you did so well, je suis fier de toi, ma petite sœur"

Yn's heart swelled with love and pride. Her brothers had taught her that no obstacle was insurmountable, and together, they had shown the world that family would always come first.

Charles turned to Andrea and Joris, his gratitude evident. "Thank you both for looking after YN, you didn't have to"

Andrea smiled warmly. "We'll always take care of her, Charles. She's part of our team, our extended family, just as much as you are."

Joris nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. We're here for each other, on and off the track."

As the sun set on the race day, Yn Leclerc stood alongside her brothers, united by their unwavering bond, ready to face whatever challenges the future held. Racing against time and adversity, they knew they could conquer anything as long as they faced it together.

Could you do leclercxsister where maybe all the brothers are flying to the next race and leclerc sister gets sick and throws up and her brothers look after her. :)

Love Andrea and Joris 🥹🥹

As the plane soared through the clouds, Y/N Leclerc leaned back in her seat, feeling the vibrations of the engines beneath her. It was a bittersweet moment for the Leclerc siblings. Arthur, Charles, Lorenzo, and Y/N were flying to the next race without their maman, who had important matters to attend to at home in Monaco. Y/N had always admired her brothers for having to travel as much as they did.

Wrapped in her thoughts, Y/N's stomach churned uneasily. She couldn't shake off the feeling of sickness that was creeping up on her. She clenched her fists, trying to suppress it, but her face grew pale, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

Arthur, noticing Y/N's discomfort, glanced worriedly at her. "Ça va, Y/N? Tu as l'air malade. {Are you okay, Y/N? You look sick.}" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Y/N forced a smile, her voice shaky. "Je vais bien, Arthur. Juste un peu étourdie. {I'm fine, Arthur. Just a little dizzy.}" She hoped her weak response would pacify him.

But Charles, being the observant middle brother, wasn't convinced. "Non, Y/N, tu ne vas pas bien. Tu as le teint livide. {No, Y/N, you're not fine. You look pale} His worry matched Arthur's.

Lorenzo, the oldest of the siblings, chimed in. "Il a raison, Y/N. Tu ne devrais pas essayer de cacher ton malaise {He's right, Y/N. You shouldn't try to hide your discomfort} His voice carried authority as he spoke.

Andrea, Charles' personal trainer and performance coach, placed a hand on YN's back. "Respira profondamente, caro. Sarai bene." (Breathe deeply, dear. You'll be fine.)

Joris, Charles' photographer and close friend, fetched a bottle of water for YN, gently passing it to her. "Prends une gorgée, ça t'aidera." (Take a sip, it'll help.)

Gulping down the water, YN's breathing began to steady. She looked up at her brothers, tears brimming in her eyes. "Désolée, je ne voulais pas gâcher le voyage." (Sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the trip.)

Lorenzo shook his head, wrapping his arms around YN. "Tu ne gâches rien, ma petite sœur. Nous sommes ici pour toi." (You're not ruining anything, little sister. We're here for you.)

Arthur brushed a strand of hair from YN's face, smiling gently. "Ta santé est plus importante, YN. Nous ferons en sorte que tu te sentes mieux." (Your health is more important, YN. We'll make sure you feel better.)

Y/N sighed, realizing she couldn't keep up the charade any longer. "D'accord, je me sens vraiment malade. J'ai l'impression que je vais vomir {Okay, I feel really sick. I feel like I'm going to throw up}

Just as she finished speaking, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her, and Y/N bolted towards the restroom. The door slammed shut, and she succumbed to a violent bout of vomiting.

Back in their seats, the Leclerc brothers exchanged worried glances; meanwhile, Charles approached Joris, Charles' personal photographer and one of his best friends, who had been silently observing the scene. "Joris, peut-être pourrais-tu aller voir comment va Y/N ? {Joris, perhaps you could go check on Y/N?}" Charles' voice held a tinge of worry.

Joris nodded, understanding the request. "Bien sûr, Charles. Je vais voir comment elle se porte. {Of course, Charles. I'll go see how she's doing.}" He made his way to the restroom, concern etched on his face.

Inside, Y/N leaned against the sink, pale and weak. Joris knocked gently on the door. "Y/N, ça va ? Charles m'a demandé de venir voir comment tu te portes. {Y/N, are you okay? Charles asked me to come check on you.}"

Y/N mustered a small smile, grateful for Joris' presence. "Merci, Joris. Je ne me sens pas très bien. {Thank you, Joris. I'm not feeling very well}"

Joris handed her a bottle of water and spoke in soothing tones. "Tiens, Y/N. Bois plus d'eau. Cela t'aidera à te sentir mieux. {Here, Y/N. Drink more water. It'll help you feel better.}"

As Y/N took a few sips, Joris continued to provide comfort. "Repose-toi autant que tu peux, Y/N. Nous serons bientôt arrivés à destination. {Rest as much as you can, Y/N. We'll be landing soon.}"

Y/N nodded, appreciating Joris' caring nature. "Merci, Joris. Je vais essayer de me reposer. {Thank you, Joris. I'll try to rest.}"

"Stai meglio, Y/N?" (Are you feeling better, Y/N?) Andrea asked in Italian, his voice laced with concern.

Y/N nodded, her voice a little weak. "Sì, Andrea, grazie" (Yes, Andrea, thank you) and Andrea smiled warmly.

Back in their seats, Charles glanced at his brothers, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Nous devons prendre soin de Y/N, peu importe quoi. {We need to take care of Y/N, no matter what.}"

Arthur nodded in agreement, his voice filled with sibling devotion. "Oui, nous resterons à ses côtés jusqu'à ce qu'elle se sente mieux. {Yes, we'll stay by her side until she feels better}"

Lorenzo's voice held a touch of reassurance. "Y/N est forte. Elle se remettra rapidement. {Y/N is strong. She'll recover quickly.}"

Finally, the jet touched down at their destination. YN's sickness had subsided, although she still felt weak. Charles insisted on carrying her off the plane, his protectiveness evident in his eyes.

"Merci, les gars. Je ne sais pas ce que je ferais sans vous." (Thank you, guys. I don't know what I would do without you), YN expressed her gratitude, her voice filled with sincerity.

Arthur smiled, squeezing her hand. "Nous sommes une équipe, YN. Toujours là l'un pour l'autre." (We're a team, YN. Always there for each other.)

Charles wrapped his arm around YN's shoulders, leading her towards their awaiting car. "Nous allons gagner cette course, mais ta santé est notre priorité absolue." (We'll win this race, but your health is our top priority.)

As they drove away from the airport, YN glanced out of the window, her heart full of love for her brothers and their incredible bond. She knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they would always be there for each other, supporting and caring for one another.

With their resolve solidified, the Leclerc brothers prepared themselves for the rest of the journey, their focus unwaveringly on Y/N's well-being. As the plane continued its flight, they knew that their bond as siblings would guide them through the turbulent skies, ensuring they would land safely in the realm of victory.

This was requested by @maximeverstappen so i hope you like it <3

The smell of gasoline filled the air as the final race of the Formula 1 season approached. The championship title hung in the balance, and all eyes were on Y/N, the only female driver in the sport, as she prepared to make history. The nerves were palpable as she tightened the straps of her helmet and adjusted her gloves, stealing a quick glance at her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, who stood by her side.

"Je t'aime, mon cœur," Charles whispered, leaning in to give Y/N a kiss on the cheek. "You've got this. Make us proud out there."

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering at the sound of Charles' words and the support in his eyes. "I will, mon amour. For us."

The engines roared to life as the cars lined up on the grid. Y/N could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, fueling her determination. As the lights went out, she pushed the pedal to the metal, her car surging forward with precision. Lap after lap, she fought tooth and nail, her skills and determination shining through. The crowd erupted into cheers as Y/N took the lead.

Meanwhile, Charles, in his Ferrari, was locked in a fierce battle for second place. He skillfully maneuvered through the pack, displaying his extraordinary talent. The championship hung in the balance, and every move on the track mattered.

Finally, the checkered flag waved, signaling the end of the race. Y/N crossed the finish line first, securing the world championship title. Tears of joy filled her eyes as the realization sank in. She had done it. The first-ever female F1 world champion.

Charles pulled up beside her, a mix of pride and happiness evident on his face. He stepped out of his car and walked toward Y/N, engulfing her in a warm embrace. "Je suis si fier de toi, ma championne," he murmured into her ear. "You did it. You've made history."

The roar of the crowd filled the air as YN, the only female Formula 1 driver, stood on the podium, her heart pounding with exhilaration. It was the last race of the season, and she had just won the World Championship. Next to her stood Charles Leclerc, her loving boyfriend and fellow driver, who had finished in second place. The euphoria of victory surged through her veins, but her eyes searched for Charles amidst the jubilant chaos.

The winter break arrived, and Charles planned a vacation for them on a remote, exotic island. He invited his family along, wanting to share this special moment with his loved ones. Y/N felt blessed to be a part of their close-knit circle.

Arriving at the island, they were greeted by pristine beaches, crystal-clear waters, and lush greenery. It was paradise. The group settled into their luxurious villa, and Y/N found herself paired with Charlotte, Charles' older brother Lorenzo's girlfriend, and Kika, Pierre’s girlfriend for a day of exploring and shopping, their laughter filling the air as they perused the colorful stores. Y/N tried on various dresses, twirling in front of the mirror while the girls complimented her every choice.

As they wandered through the vibrant local markets, Y/N couldn't contain her excitement. The colorful fabrics, intricate crafts, and aromatic spices filled her senses. Charlotte smiled at her enthusiasm, knowing what was to come.

"Y/N, you're going to look absolutely stunning," Kika gushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Charles is a lucky man."

Y/N blushed, a soft smile playing on her lips. "And I'm the luckiest woman in the world to have him."

After a day of shopping, Y/N, Kika and Charlotte returned to the villa, only to find it transformed. The backyard was adorned with twinkling lights, flower petals scattered on the ground, and a table set for a romantic dinner. Y/N's heart skipped a beat, realizing what was happening. Charles walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Absolutely stunning," YN replied, leaning back against his chest. "I can't believe we're here."

Charles nuzzled his nose against her ear and whispered, "You deserve every bit of it, mon amour. You've worked so hard for this, and I couldn't be prouder of you."

A warm smile graced YN's lips. "Thank you, Charles. None of this would be possible without your love and support."

He turned her around to face him, his eyes shimmering with adoration. "YN, you've brought so much joy into my life. I can't imagine it without you. Je t'aime plus que tout."

Her heart fluttered at his words, knowing that he meant every syllable. "Je t'aime aussi, Charles," she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

The Leclerc family, together with Pierre and Kika, had become YN's second family, and the vacation solidified their bond even further.

"Mes amis, my family," Charles began, his voice brimming with emotion. "Today, we celebrate YN's incredible achievement, but there is something else that makes this moment even more special."

He dropped to one knee, a small box in his hand, and the gasps of surprise filled the air.

"YN, ma chérie, you've brought so much love and happiness into my life. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Tears welled up in YN's eyes as she nodded vigorously, a radiant smile illuminating her face. "Yes, Charles, a thousand times yes!"

The group erupted in applause and cheers, congratulating the newly engaged couple. Charles slipped the ring onto YN's finger, sealing their love in an eternal bond.

As the night continued, YN found herself wrapped in Charles' arms, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore. They danced, whispering sweet words to each other, promising a future filled with love, laughter, and continued adventures. The night sky sparkled with stars as Y/N and Charles danced under a canopy of fairy lights, their hearts overflowing with love. Their families and friends surrounded them, raising their glasses in celebration.

Charles pulled Y/N closer, whispering sweetly in her ear. "Mon trésor, you've made me the happiest man in the world today. I can't wait to build a future together, to cherish and support you in all that you do."

Y/N beamed, her heart filled with gratitude and love. "And I can't wait to stand by your side, Charles, as we conquer the world together."

In that magical moment, surrounded by their loved ones, YN knew that winning the World Championship was just the beginning of an extraordinary journey they would embark on together.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon at the Leclerc household, and Y/N sat on her bed, scrolling through TikTok on her phone. Her eyes lit up as she stumbled upon a hilarious trend where siblings imitated each other. She couldn't resist the opportunity to have some fun with her older brother, Arthur, who was known for his disorganized nature. Grinning mischievously, she got up and went to find Arthur.

"Hey, Artie! Guess what we're doing today?" she exclaimed, waving her phone in the air, finding him in his room surrounded by a mountain of clothes.

Arthur turned to look at his younger sister, raising an eyebrow. "What's up, Y/N?"

"I have an idea! Let's do a TikTok trend together! We'll imitate each other!" Y/N exclaimed, excitement radiating from her.

Arthur chuckled, intrigued by his sister's suggestion. "Alright, let's give it a shot. But how do we start?"

The first TikTok video idea was simple: imitating each other's morning routines. Y/N loved pampering herself with a thorough skincare routine, while Arthur was known for being a bit disorganized. They set up the camera in the bathroom, ready to begin.

Y/N, acting as Arthur, exaggeratedly tossed clothes around the room, pretending to search for something amidst the chaos. "Ugh, where's my phone? I can't find it!" (Ugh, où est mon téléphone portable? Je ne trouve rien!)

"Hey, I'm Arthur, and all I care about is racing," she said in a deep voice, mimicking her brother's mannerisms. "Who needs skincare and makeup when you can go fast?"

Y/N smirked and put on her best Arthur impression, adopting a mock-serious tone. “Bonjour à tous! I am Arthur Leclerc, the greatest F2 driver of all time!"

Arthur burst into laughter, watching his sister's amusing performance. "Hey, that's not how I sound!” They both burst into laughter, their lighthearted banter filling the room.

A short while later, Y/N and Arthur set up their makeshift filming area in Y/N's room. The camera began rolling, and Arthur held a makeup brush in her hand, imitating Yn’s voice and mannerisms.

"Bonjour, everyone! Today, I'm going to show you my daily skincare routine!" Arthur said, putting on a comical voice. "First, I'll start with my favorite cleanser. It's the secret to my skin!"

Arthur, adopting Y/N's meticulousness, showcased a mock skincare routine, diligently applying various creams and serums. "You know, it takes a lot of effort to keep this face looking this good," he said, feigning seriousness.

“Yn why do you need all of that” she imitates what her brother tells her every day.

“You don’t understand anything, get out” he imitates his sister’s moody self in the mornings

Arthur mimics Y/N's voice and delicate gestures as he pretended to apply skincare products. "Et voilà! My skin will be radiant”

Y/N couldn't help but burst into laughter at her brother's attempts. "Okay, next up, we have a special guest! Carla!"

Arthur pretended to steal his girlfriend Carla, as if he was his sister, for a shopping spree. Arthur grumbled in exaggerated annoyance, imitating Y/N's voice perfectly. "Ugh, Arthur, can I take Carla shopping with me? She has way better fashion sense than you!"

Y/N, channeling her brother's irritation, crossed her arms and pouted. "Fine, but just this once!"

The camera rolling as Arthur took on the role of Yn. He rummaged through her wardrobe, mimicking her indecisive self of choosing what to wear. Holding up a colorful shirt, he mused, "Hmm, should I wear this for grocery shopping? Let's ask everyone in the house!"

Walking out of her room, he found Charles, her older brother, and asked him, "Qu'est-ce que tu penses de cette tenue?" (What do you think of this outfit?)

Charles chuckled, playing along. "(Eh bien, c'est très…coloré)" (Well, it's very… colorful.)

Then he went to Yn, who’s imitating him, “Turo, what do you think about this for going to the supermarket, and are you sure this shade of lipstick matches my outfit?" Arthur asked, pointing at the tube in his hand. "Maybe I should go with something a little more… adventurous?"

"Y/N, we're just going grocery shopping, no to Jimmy’z. You don't need to try on ten different outfits," yn imitates what he would normally tell her when she asks him.

Next, he found Lorenzo, the oldest brother, and asked, "Comment ça va avec ces chaussures?" (How does it go with these shoes?)

Lorenzo laughed, "Pas mal, mais ça pourrait être mieux" (Not bad, but it could be better)

Finally, Arthur sought the opinion of their mother, Pascale. "Maman, que penses-tu de cette tenue pour les courses?" (Mom, what do you think of this outfit for grocery shopping?)

Pascale smiled and replied, "C'est très joli, ma chérie" (It's very lovely, my dear.)

Later, Y/N decided to imitate one of Arthur's favorite pastimes: annoying her while she was in her bedroom. She set up her camera and waited for Arthur to come by.

The video included a scene where Arthur imitated Y/N's organizational skills. He darted around the house, tidying up misplaced objects and arranging everything in perfect order, mirroring Y/N's obsession with cleanliness. "La maison doit être parfaitement en ordre, sinon, je ne peux pas respirer!" Arthur said, mimicking YN's voice. (The house must be perfectly organized, or else I can't breathe!)

Meanwhile, Y/N mimicked Arthur's annoying habit of barging into her room unannounced, rummaging through her things. A few moments later, Yn appeared, a mischievous grin on her face. She knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a response. "Hey, Y/N, what's up?"

Arthur, mimicking Yn’s casual demeanor, replied, "Oh, nothing much, just enjoying some quiet time. You mind leaving me alone?"

Yn’s feigned hurt, mimicking Arthur’s voice with a playful tone. "Aw, come on, Y/N, where's the fun in that?"

Arthur imitating her sister’s manner of getting angry very quick responds “Arthuuur! get out or im telling maman you are annoying me again”

Their playful exchange continued as they imitated their usual bickering, making faces and playfully teasing each other. Charles, who had been watching from the doorway, couldn't resist joining in, he entered the scene, imitating their oldest brother, Lorenzo, and the oldest sibling imitating Charles. Enzo, usually the reserved and collected brother, mimicked Charles’ flamboyance and infectious laughter. Charles, in turn, imitated Lorenzo’s calm and thoughtful demeanor, gently poking fun at his brother's meticulous approach to life.

Y/N couldn't contain her laughter when she saw Charles imitating Lorenzo's animated gestures. "Cha, you've got Lolo's flair down to a tee!"

Lorenzo, doing his best Charles impression, shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, someone has to be the calm one in this family."

By the end of the day, the Leclerc siblings had created a treasure trove of entertaining TikToks. They sat together, exhausted but elated, watching the compilation on YN's phone.

Charles, Lorenzo, Arthur, and YN shared a group hug, realizing how fortunate they were to have such a close-knit and fun-loving family.

As the evening drew to a close, YN smiled at her brothers. "You know, despite the mischief and teasing, I couldn't imagine my life without any of you. I love you all so much."

YN replied, a warm smile on her face. "We may be different, but we make a great team."

The Leclerc siblings exchanged heartfelt expressions of love and gratitude before finally retiring for the night, eagerly looking forward to the next family adventure.

could you do a leclercxsister with all her brothers. Maybe where she has to have a blood test or an injections and she is scared of needles and than once it’s done she faints so all her brothers comfort her when she is having it happening . Sorry if this is a but specific.

Y/N Leclerc was never a fan of needles. The mere thought of them sent shivers down her spine, and today, you found herself in the daunting position of needing a blood test. Her maman, usually her pillar of support, couldn't make it this time to accompany her little, not-so little girl, which, as a result made the nerves consume her entirely.

The waiting room seemed colder than usual, filled with an unsettling quietness. Yn fidgeted in her seat, unable to shake off the unease that gripped her. Meanwhile, her older brother Lorenzo watched her with concern, noticing her restless movements.

"Tu vas bien, Y/N?" (Are you alright, Y/N?) Lorenzo asked in a gentle tone, leaning closer to you.

Yn nodded, trying to reassure herself. "Oui, ça va. Just a little nervous," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Charles, her other brother, joined the conversation, his voice filled with brotherly affection. "Ne t'en fais pas, petite sœur. We're here with you. We won't let anything happen."

His words offered some comfort, reminding her that she were not alone. Yn glanced at her youngest brother, Arthur, who had an infectious smile that always lifted her spirits. He, too, shared encouraging words.

"Don't worry, Y/N. Joris and Andrea are here as well. You'll be fine," Arthur said, giving her a thumbs-up.

Joris, Charles' photographer and close friend, and Andrea, Charles' trainer and performance coach, approached Yn. Joris smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Hey, Y/N, we're here for you. You're in good hands."

Andrea, with his distinctive Italian accent, added, "Si, Y/N. Non preoccuparti. (Yes, Y/N. Don't worry.) We will make sure you're comfortable."

The nurse called her name, and her heart skipped a beat. The fear intensified as Yn walked towards the examination room, her steps shaky. Charles placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, guiding her gently.

"You've got this, Y/N," he said, his voice steady. "We believe in you"

The nurse prepared everything, her calming presence offering a sliver of relief. As she readied the needle, her breaths quickened, and her hands grew clammy. The fear threatened to overwhelm the girl.

Charles moved closer, gripping her hand tightly. "Regarde-moi, Y/N. (Look at me, Y/N.) Breathe with me," he said softly, his eyes locked with hers.

In sync with Charles, she focused on his steady breathing, imitating his deep inhales and slow exhales. His presence alone eased some of her anxiety, grounding her in the present moment.

Lorenzo, always protective, placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're doing great, Y/N. Almost there," he encouraged, his voice steady and comforting.

Joris, ever the optimist, chimed in. "Just think of it as a small prick, and it'll be over before you know it."

Andrea, leaning against the wall, offered a comforting smile. "Respira, Y/N. Sarai fatta in un attimo. (Breathe, Y/N. It will be over in no time.)"

With the support of her brothers, Yn managed to stay composed throughout the procedure. The nurse finished drawing her blood, and as relief washed over her, her vision blurred, and the world faded away. The overwhelming emotions had finally taken their toll, causing the youngest Leclerc to lose consciousness.

"What happened?" Joris asked, worry etched on his face.

"She fainted," the nurse replied, his voice tinged with concern. "But don't worry, she's going to be fine."

When she awoke, Yn found herself in a cozy room, tucked under a warm blanket. The soft sound of familiar voices reached her ears, and as her vision cleared, she saw the concerned faces of her brothers and friends surrounding her.

When Y/N came to, she found herself lying on a nearby couch in the examination room. Her brothers and their friends surrounded her, looking genuinely concerned.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," Arthur teased gently, ruffling her hair.

Y/N groaned softly, feeling slightly embarrassed by the fainting spell. "Did I really faint?"

Charles chuckled. "Yes, but don't worry about it. It happens to the best of us. How are you feeling?"

Yn groaned, her voice weak. "Like I got hit by a truck.""

Andrea chimed in, "È normale sentirsi così dopo un'iniezione, tesoro." (It's normal to feel like this after an injection, sweetheart.)

Joris handed her a glass of water. "Take it easy, Y/N. You'll be fine."

Andrea, his voice soothing, offered words of reassurance. "You were brave, Y/N. You faced her fear head-on. We are proud of you."

As she sipped the water, a profound sense of gratitude filled her heart. Despite her fear, her brothers and friends had surrounded her with love and support, giving her the strength to overcome her anxiety. Yn realized then that she were never alone in facing life's challenges.

With a renewed sense of courage, she sat up, her gaze meeting each of their concerned faces. "Thank you, everyone," she said, her voice filled with sincerity. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Lorenzo smiled, pulling her into a gentle hug. "We're always here for you, Y/N. Remember that."

As she basked in the warmth of her family's embrace, Yn knew that no matter what lay ahead, she would always find comfort and strength in their unwavering support.

Could you do a Leclercxsister where you are down because you have a voice problem after an allergic reaction and you can't speak while you recover and your brothers comfort you

The sun was shining brightly over the picturesque streets of Monaco as YN hurriedly gathered her books, preparing for another day at her high school. Today was an important day for her family as the Monaco Grand Prix was just around the corner, and her brother Charles, a Formula 1 driver, had asked his trainer Andrea and their best friend Joris to pick her up. Being the Leclerc siblings' home Grand Prix, they were overwhelmed with media duties, leaving little time to attend to YN.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed, signaling a message. It was Andrea, Charles' trainer, and Joris, his best friend and photographer. The two men had been entrusted with the responsibility of picking Y/N up due to her brothers' overwhelming media commitments. Adjusting her backpack on her shoulder, she darted out of the classroom and made her way to the school entrance while talking to her friends.

As she was exiting the high school a familiar black car pulled up in front of her, and the window rolled down to reveal Joris' and Andrea’s smiling faces. "Bonjour, YN! Ready to go?"

"Salut, Joris! Ciao, Andrea!" YN greeted, grateful for their help. "I am, but could we stop somewhere to grab a quick bite? I haven't had a lot for lunch, I didn’t like it"

"Non, ça ne pose pas de problème! (No, it's not a problem!)" Joris replied, starting the engine.

The trio made their way through the winding streets of Monaco, eventually finding a restaurant tucked away in a quaint corner. They settled at a table, and Y/N informed the waiter of her severe nut allergy. As they waited for their food, Y/N chatted with Andrea and Joris, sharing stories and laughter.

However, as soon as YN took a bite of her sandwich, she sensed something was wrong. Her throat started to itch, and her breathing became labored. Panic washed over her as she realized she was having an allergic reaction.

"Andrea, Joris," she managed to gasp out, her voice hoarse and barely audible. "In my school backpack… insulin… injections."

Andrea sprang into action, grabbing YN's school backpack and rummaging through it. He found the insulin injection that YN carried for emergencies and expertly administered it, hoping it would counteract the reaction.

Gradually, YN's breathing eased, and her throat stopped swelling. However, her voice had become raspy, and her throat still ached. They decided to skip school and head to YN's mother's hairdresser boutique, knowing her brothers would be there for their pre-race haircuts.

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Arriving at the bustling salon, YN spotted her maman, Pascale Leclerc, fussing over her brothers' hair. Charles and her older brothers Arthur and Lorenzo glanced at her in surprise, their scissors poised mid-air.

"Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?" (What happened?) Charles asked in concern while he was waiting for her mother to cut his hair.

"Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé, ma petite sœur ?" (What happened, my little sister?) Arthur asked in a concerned tone, glancing at Andrea for an explanation.

Andrea stepped forward, explaining the situation in Italian. "Lei ha avuto una reazione allergica grave. C'era contaminazione incrociata nel ristorante, ma le ho dato l'iniezione di insulina che aveva nella sua zaino e ora sta meglio." (She had a severe allergic reaction. There was cross-contamination at the restaurant, but I administered the insulin injection she had in her backpack, and now she's feeling better.)

Charles, understanding the gravity of the situation, immediately approached Y/N. "Mon bébé, comment te sens-tu maintenant ?" (Baby, how are you feeling now?)

Y/N, her voice weak and strained, managed a faint smile. "Mieux, Char. Ça fait encore mal, mais je vais bien maintenant." (Better, Char. It still hurts, but I'm okay now.)

Moved by their sister's ordeal, Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo enveloped Y/N in a warm embrace, showering her with love and reassurance. The familial bond proved stronger than any adversity they faced.

Pascale immediately abandoned her hairdressing tools, rushing over to embrace her daughter. "Ma chérie! Comment ça va maintenant?" (My darling! How are you feeling now?)

"Maman," YN croaked, her voice barely audible. "Ça va mieux maman, mais j'ai mal à la gorge." (I'm feeling better, but my throat hurts.)

Pascale comforted YN with soothing words and quickly retrieved medication from her private stash. She handed YN a glass of warm water and helped her take the medicine, ensuring her daughter was as comfortable as possible.

Charles, now by YN's side, held her hand gently. "Ne t'inquiète pas, ma petite sœur. Nous sommes là pour toi." (Don't worry, little sister. We're here for you)

Andrea, feeling the need to address YN's concerns, leaned in and spoke softly in Italian. "Non preoccuparti, YN. Ti prenderemo cura di te" (Don't worry, YN. We'll take care of you)

As Andrea's words resonated within YN's heart, she smiled weakly, her eyes filled with gratitude. She realized that despite the hectic Grand Prix preparations, her family always put her well-being first.

Andrea leaned in and whispered in Y/N's ear, his voice filled with affection, "Tu es une guerrière, bella. Ne l'oublie jamais." (You are a warrior, kid. Never forget it.)

With a smile, Y/N nodded and whispered back, "Je sais, Andrea. Merci de toujours être là pour moi." (I know, Andrea. Thank you for always being there for me.)

Surrounded by the love and care of her family, YN felt a warmth envelop her, overpowering the remnants of her allergic reaction. In that moment, she knew that her voice may have been temporarily silenced, but her bond with her family and the support they offered spoke volumes.

And as the Monaco Grand Prix roared to life in the background, YN's racing heart swelled with love and appreciation for her extraordinary family.

Behind the camera -> chapter 2

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

author note: if you want to be in the taglist comment it or send me a message & and i hope you like it

Chapter Warnings: bullying (mean comments, self doubt...)

One sunny afternoon, Yn's mother, Pascale, noticed her daughter dancing around the living room, mimicking the graceful movements she had seen on TV. Yn's eyes lit up with excitement as she tried to mimic the ballerinas she saw on a children's show. Observing her daughter's genuine interest, Pascale decided to enroll Yn in toddler ballet classes, hoping it would be an enjoyable experience for the young girl.

Excitedly, Yn attended her first ballet class with a heart full of enthusiasm. As she stepped into the dance studio, she noticed a group of girls already practicing their pliés and twirls. They appeared like little princesses, dressed in their pink tutus and ballet shoes, moving with elegance and grace.

As the class began, Yn tried her best to mimic the graceful movements of her instructor. However, she was a bit clumsy, often stumbling and losing her balance. Her tiny legs would wobble, and her coordination seemed far from perfect.

"Regardez-la ! Elle est maladroite !" (Look at her! She's so clumsy!) giggled one of the girls named Isabelle, pointing at Yn as they practiced their pliés.

"Oui, c'est vrai ! Elle danse comme un canard !" (Yes, that's true! She dances like a duck!) chimed in another girl, Elise.

The other girls joined in, mocking Yn's efforts and whispering behind her back. Tears welled up in Yn's eyes as she tried her best to ignore their hurtful remarks.

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As weeks passed, the situation at ballet class only worsened for Yn. The other girls excluded her from their little circle, leaving her feeling isolated and disheartened. Yet, she never let her spirit be completely crushed. She persevered and practiced in hopes of getting better

Yn's teacher, Madame Dupont, noticed the unpleasant behavior of the other girls after some days and intervened immediately. "Arrêtez ça tout de suite, les filles !" (Stop that right now, girls!) she scolded them firmly, her tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Madame Dupont then knelt down beside Yn, offering a warm smile that reassured the little girl. "Tu es une danseuse merveilleuse, Yn. Ne les écoute pas. Continue de faire de ton mieux, et tu seras une ballerine éblouissante !" (You are a wonderful dancer, Yn. Don't listen to them. Keep doing your best, and you will be a dazzling ballerina!)

Yn nodded, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Madame Dupont's kind words gave her the courage to push through the obstacles and embrace her love for dance wholeheartedly.

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The situation wasn't much different when they started kindergarten. Charles's outgoing personality allowed him to form bonds with his classmates effortlessly. He was blissfully unaware that his popularity overshadowed Yn's presence in school

They remarked, "Pourquoi elle est toujours seule?" (Why is she always alone?) The words were like daggers to Yn's heart, and her eyes welled up with tears. "Je ne sais pas, peut-être qu'elle est bizarre." (I don't know, maybe she's weird) another kid said, and Yn's heart sank, and tears welled up in her eyes as she heard the cruel remarks. But the most hurtful comment came unexpectedly from Charles himself, who, without realizing the impact of his words, said, "Elle ne sait même pas comment se faire des amis!" (She doesn't even know how to make friends!)

For two long months, Yn endured the feeling of loneliness at school, while Charles remained blissfully ignorant of her turmoil. He spent his days laughing and playing, oblivious to the storm that brewed in his sister's heart. It reached a tipping point when one day, she couldn't bear it any longer.

That evening, at home, Yn mustered up the courage to confront Charles about her feelings. "Charles, pourquoi tu ne joues jamais avec moi à l'école ?" (Charles, why don't you ever play with me at school?) she asked, her voice quivering with emotion.

Confused, Charles replied, "Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire, Yn ? Je joue avec tout le monde. Tu n'es pas exclue." (What do you mean, Yn? I play with everyone. You're not excluded.)

But Yn couldn't hold back her pain any longer. "Tu ne comprends pas, Charles ! Tout le monde se moque de moi et dit des choses méchantes ! Et toi, tu ne fais que me repousser pour être avec tes amis ! Tu ne te soucies même pas de moi !" (You don't understand, Charles! Everyone makes fun of me and says mean things! And you, you just push me away to be with your friends! You don't even care about me!)

Charles was taken aback by Yn's outburst. He hadn't realized the impact of his actions on his sister. "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je ne savais pas. J'étais égoïste, tellement heureux d'avoir autant d'amis, je n'ai pas réalisé que je te faisais du mal." (I'm sorry, Yn. I didn't know. I was selfish, so happy to have so many friends, I didn't realize I was hurting you.)

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Yn continued, "Les autres enfants se moquent de moi parce que je suis timide. Ils disent que je suis ennuyeuse et que je ne devrais pas être ta sœur." (The other kids make fun of me because I'm shy. They say I'm boring and that I shouldn't be your sister.)

Charles felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had been so caught up in his own happiness that he had failed to see the pain his sister was going through. "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je promets de faire plus attention et d'être là pour toi à l'école et je vais t'aider à te faire des amis" (I'm sorry, Yn. I promise to pay more attention and be there for you at school and I'll help you make friends)

Yn's heart swelled with gratitude as Charles embraced her. The next day, Charles introduced Yn to his friends, encouraging them to include her in their games. Slowly but surely, Yn started to feel like she belonged

That evening, Charles went to their parents and confessed his mistakes. "J'ai été égoïste, maman, papa. J'ai blessé Yn. Je veux être puni." (I've been selfish, Mom, Dad. I hurt Yn. I want to be punished)

Their parents, understanding the importance of this learning experience, instead chose to teach their children a valuable lesson. "Ce n'est jamais trop tard pour faire mieux, Charles. Sois simplement là pour ta sœur." (It's never too late to do better, Charles. Just be there for your sister)

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From that moment on, Charles made a conscious effort to include Yn in his circle of friends. The next day, Charles introduced Yn to his friends, encouraging them to include her in their games, and they patiently encouraged her to open up. Slowly, Yn began to feel more at ease, and she found herself making connections with her peers. The other children soon discovered that beneath her shyness and clumsiness, Yn was a kind and caring friend. 

However, Yn's struggles continued in her ballet school. The girls there couldn't resist being envious of her natural grace and elegance, so they decided to ridicule her, hoping to dent her confidence. "Tu ne seras jamais aussi bonne que nous, Yn. Arrête d'essayer!" (You'll never be as good as us, Yn. Stop trying!) they jeered

"Elle n'a aucune grâce !" (She has no grace!), another girl sneered

"Pourquoi est-elle même ici ? Elle n'est pas faite pour la danse." (Why is she even here? She's not meant for dance)

Yn's determination, however, only grew stronger. She spent hours practicing, trying to prove to herself and her detractors that she deserved to be there. She practiced so much that her technique improved drastically, but the emotional toll was immense.

The insults and taunts persisted, but Yn learned to shield herself from the negativity. She danced with passion and determination, ignoring the jealous whispers around her. As time went on, her ballet form improved, and she found solace in the art form she loved.

taglist: @love4lando @celesteblack08 @gcldtom

the divider is from the incredible @reveriesources

Behind the camera -> chapter 4

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

Yn stared at herself in the mirror, her reflection framed by the elegant ballet studio. Her leotard clung to her small frame, a reminder of the grueling practice she had just finished. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and took a deep breath. Ballet was her passion, but it wasn't always a serene escape.

The girls from her ballet class had been teasing her since she was three. Now, at eight years old, their barbs were sharper, more targeted. Yn couldn't escape them, not even when she stepped outside the studio. They were in her school, in her life, and it seemed like they existed just to torment her.

"Hey, Yn, did you trip over your own feet again?" One of the girls, Isabelle, sneered.

Yn rolled her eyes. "No, Isabelle, but I heard you tripped over your own ego."

The girls exchanged annoyed glances, clearly taken aback by Yn's quick wit. They weren't used to someone standing up to them.

"You think you're so cool just because your brother is famous," another girl, Margot, chimed in.

Yn clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. It was true that Charles, her twin brother, had risen to fame as an F1 driver. But she refused to let that define her.

"You're right," Yn replied with a smirk. "I am cool. And not just because of Charles. I'm cool because I don't need to put others down to feel good about myself."

"Tu crois que tu es tellement intelligente, n'est-ce pas?" Sophie snapped back (You think you're so clever, don't you?)

Yn smirked, her confidence unwavering, "Eh bien, au moins plus intelligente que toi à ce stade" (Well, at least smarter than you at this point)

The girls huffed and turned away, clearly frustrated that their usual taunts were having no effect on Yn. This was the dynamic that had been playing out since they were all in diapers, and Yn wasn't about to back down now. As she turned back to the mirror, she caught a glimpse of her twin brother's mischievous grin.

Charles leaned against the doorframe, his eyes sparkling with admiration for his feisty sister. He had always been amazed by Yn's unbreakable spirit. Their bond was more than just that of siblings; it was a partnership built on shared experiences, challenges, and triumphs.

"Ballet class drama again, huh?" Charles asked, walking over to Yn.

Yn shrugged, "Same old, same old. They just can't stand the fact that I exist."

Charles chuckled, "Well, you do have a knack for stealing the spotlight."

Yn rolled her eyes, "Oh please, as if I asked for this."

He ruffled her hair affectionately, "You're handling it like a champ though."

"That's what Leclercs do," Yn replied with a smirk.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day at school, the torment continued. Yn's friends, were waiting for her, and Joris and Riccardo, flanked her as they walked down the hallway.

"Hey, guys," Yn replied, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips.

Joris playfully punched her shoulder. "Ready for the big history test?"

Yn rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course, I've been studying. Unlike some people I know."

Riccardo joined in the banter. "Well, some of us have other things on our minds, like winning the karting race this weekend."

Yn and Charles walked through the school corridors, their laughter mingling with the familiar buzz of students shuffling between classes. As they reached their lockers, Yn's heart skipped a beat. A knot formed in her stomach when she spotted the group of ballet girls huddled near her locker. Their perfectly coordinated outfits and disdainful expressions were a stark contrast to Yn's casual confidence.

"Tiens, tiens, if it isn't the Leclerc twins," the ringleader of the group sneered, her voice dripping with malice.

Yn's eyes rolled, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Oh, great, the mean girls club is in session early today. Should I fetch you all some croissants to complete the picture?"

The girls exchanged baffled glances, momentarily taken aback by Yn's boldness.

"Tu te prends pour qui?" one of them hissed. (Who do you think you are?)

Charles leaned against his locker, an amused grin playing on his lips. He knew better than to underestimate his sister's ability to put people in their place.

"Salut les filles," he chimed in, catching their attention. "Est-ce que vous avez besoin d'une leçon de bonne conduite?" (Hi, girls. Do you need a lesson in good behavior?)

Joris and Riccardo, Yn's two closest friends, joined them, flanking her protectively. Joris crossed his arms, a mockingly stern expression on his face. "Ouais, vous devriez apprendre à respecter les gens, non?" (Yeah, you should learn to respect people, shouldn't you?)

Yn laughed, her confidence growing. "I mean, they don't have the best track record for learning, do they?"

Riccardo joined in, a playful glint in his eyes. "Je suis d'accord. Ils sont plutôt doués pour être idiots." (I agree. They're quite talented at being idiots)

The ballet girls exchanged furious glances, their veneer of superiority cracking under the weight of Yn's retorts and the unified front of her friends.

"Enough of this nonsense" Isabelle snapped, her voice quivering. "Let's go, girls. These losers aren't worth our time"

As the ballet girls stormed away, Yn and her friends burst into laughter, their camaraderie a testament to their unbreakable bond.

"Thanks, guys," Yn said, her heart warmed by their unwavering support.

Joris clapped Yn on the back. "Anytime, Yn. You know we've got your back."

Riccardo nodded "Exactly. And besides, those girls wouldn't know class if it hit them in the face."

Charles grinned and clapped their hands "Well said, both of you"

Yn's gaze softened as she looked at her friends. She was beyond grateful for their presence in her life. Through thick and thin, they had stood by her side, and together, they formed a force to be reckoned with.

"Alright, let's head to class," Charles said, breaking the momentary reverie.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that afternoon, Yn found herself once again in the ballet studio, surrounded by the polished mirrors and the haunting melody of the piano. As the ballet instructor guided them through the routine, the bullies' harsh whispers echoed in her mind.

"Yn, tu es tellement inutile ici. Personne ne veut de toi dans notre groupe" (Yn, you're so useless here. No one wants you in our group)

A flash of anger surged through Yn's veins, but she suppressed it, focusing on her movements. The dance was her sanctuary, her escape from the world's turmoil. She pirouetted with precision, her determination shining through each graceful step.

After the class, Yn walked out with her head held high, refusing to let the bullies see her falter. As she approached her friends waiting outside, Charles wrapped an arm around her shoulders, a silent gesture of support.

"Comment ça s'est passé?" he asked, concern etched across his features. ("How did it go?")

Yn smiled, leaning into her brother's embrace. "Comme d'habitude. Je danse pour moi, pas pour elles" (As usual. I dance for myself, not for them)

The ballet girls might try to undermine her, but they were no match for her wit and her unshakable friends. After all, she was Yn Leclerc—the sassy bad bitch who never backed down.

taglist: @love4lando @gcldtom @im-mi @topguncultleader@celesteblack08 @reblog-princess @sunf1ower16

Behind the camera -> chapter 5

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

author note1: im sorry for the absence have been very ill but im better now i have some things to post that i will be posting these next days and weeks

uthor note2: if you want to be in the taglist comment it or send me a message <3 and i hope you like it

banner from @reveriesources she does incredible things

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the winding streets of Monaco. Yn and her twin brother, Charles, were at the heart of the glamorous city, surrounded by the energy of high-speed life and the whispers of the Mediterranean breeze. The twins had decided to gather their friends for an evening of laughter, chatter, and exploration.

"Come on, Yn, we are going to be late! " Charles said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Yn, twirled in front of the mirror, trying to perfect the balance between casual and stylish for the evening ahead.

As she rushed to finish her makeup, Charles lounged on her bed, an amused grin on his face. "You know, Joris won't notice if your eyeliner is perfect or not."

Yn rolled her eyes, and hurriedly applied a final stroke of mascara, glancing at the clock with a hint of panic in her eyes.  "Maybe I just wanted to look presentable for once, Charles, not like you” she says, feigning nonchalance.

"You know, you're not fooling anyone. We all know you're taking extra time to impress him tonight."

Yn scoffed, trying to deflect. "Oh, please. You're imagining things"

As the two siblings descended the stairs, they joined a group of friends gathered in the living room. 

"Salut, tout le monde!" Charles announced as they arrived, drawing everyone's attention. 

Riccardo, a lively friend with a perpetual grin, greeted her first, "Bonjour, Yn! You look ravishing tonight."

Yn blushed, "Merci, Riccardo. You're too kind"

The group set off for a stroll around the glamorous streets of Monaco. The air was filled with laughter and the excited chatter of friends.

Unbeknownst to Yn, her friends, including Joris, were well aware of her not-so-secret crush.

Joris, a boy with a charming smile and kind eyes, walked alongside Yn.

As they walked, Yn caught glimpses of Joris, the object of her secret affection. She stole shy glances in his direction, catching his eye a few times. Unbeknownst to her, Joris couldn't help but smile every time he caught her looking.

"Alors, Yn, did you pick your outfit for Joris or the entire population of Monaco?" teased Marta, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Yn blushed, "Marta, you know I just like to look good"

Riccardo winked, "Sure, Yn. Whatever you say"

Their journey continued through the bustling mall, and the group split up. Marta and another friend insisted on exploring a flower shop, while Charles and the rest wanted to visit the tech shop nearby, leaving Yn feeling torn because Yn wanted to go to her favorite boutique. Joris, sensing her hesitation, offered to accompany her.

"I'll join you, Yn. It seems we have similar taste," he offered with a charming smile.

Their friends exchanged knowing glances, teasing smiles hinting at the unspoken feelings between the two. As Yn and Joris explored the shops together, their interactions became a dance of laughter and shared glances.

Inside the shop, Yn couldn't resist trying on a beautiful jacket. Joris couldn't help but admire her. "Tu es magnifique," he whispered, and Yn's heart skipped a beat. {You look beautiful.}

The warmth of his compliment ignited a blush on her cheeks. They exchanged shy smiles, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Yn blushed, fumbling for words and she stammered, "Uh, thanks. I mean, merci." And their interaction left them both feeling flustered and giddy.

As they rejoined the group later, Charles pulled Yn aside, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, you were redder than that jacket. What happened there?"

"Nothing," Yn mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

Charles chuckled, giving her a playful nudge. "Sure, sis. Whatever you say."

As evening approached and the temperature dropped, the group decided to have dinner at a cozy restaurant.

"Let's grab dinner, it's getting late and chilly," Charles suggested, pulling Yn closer to him protectively. "What do you all think?"

Agreeing nods and murmurs of approval filled the air as they made their way to a nearby restaurant.

"Smile, everyone!" Charles called out, holding up his phone. The group huddled together, flashing their brightest smiles as the camera captured the moment.

Charles, in his usual teasing manner, orchestrated the seating arrangements, placing Yn next to Joris. Throughout the dinner, their friends exchanged knowing glances, subtly encouraging the connection between Yn and Joris.

The warmth inside enveloped them like a comforting embrace. They settled at a large table, with Yn finding herself next to Joris, a quiet and reserved boy she'd known since childhood.

"Que veux-tu manger?" Charles asked Yn, scanning the menu with her (What do you want to eat?)

" I think I'll have the grilled chicken" she replied, deciding on the grilled chicken.

Amidst the banter, Yn noticed Joris stealing glances her way. She smiled at him, not realizing the subtle yet kindled connection forming between them.

Joris, seated next to Yn, couldn't help but steal glances at her while savoring his food.

"Tu aimes le plat, Yn?" Joris asked, his eyes showing a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

"Oui, c'est délicieux," Yn replied, appreciating the effort he took to engage in conversation.

As the dinner progressed, the group shared stories, laughter, and occasional glances. The warmth of friendship melted away the evening chill, but it was evident that the night was advancing. Charles suggested, "On devrait commencer à penser à partir, non?" (We should start thinking about leaving, right?)

The group agreed, settling the bill and heading out into the cool night. They huddled together, waiting for their parents to pick them up.

In the midst of the shared warmth and camaraderie, Joris mustered up the courage to speak to Yn. "Uh, Yn, je voulais te dire quelque chose." (Uh, Yn, I wanted to tell you something)

She turned towards him, curious. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"  she asked. (What is it?)

"Je... euh, j'aime bien passer du temps avec toi," he stammered, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. (I... um, I really like spending time with you)

Yn's eyes widened in surprise, a smile forming on her lips. "Moi aussi," she responded, not realizing the depth of his feelings. (Me too)

Joris hesitated for a moment, then finally blurted out, "Euh, je t'aime bien, Yn. Et, euh, je me demandais si tu voudrais peut-être… passer du temps avec moi le week-end prochain?" (Um, I like you, Yn. And, uh, I was wondering if you might want to... hang out with me next weekend?)

A smile tugged at Yn's lips, her heart warming at Joris's shy confession. "J'adorerais, Joris," she replied, her eyes meeting his. (I’d love to Joris)

As their parents arrived to pick them up, the group bid their goodbyes. Yn and Charles climbed into the car, sharing a quiet moment on the way home.

As they drove home, Yn turned to her brother, gratitude shining in her eyes.

"Ça va, Yn?" Charles asked, glancing over to his sister with a grin.

"Oui, tout va bien," Yn replied, exchanging a playful smile with her brother. “Merci, Charles. Merci pour cette soirée," she expressed, overwhelmed with a sense of appreciation for the life she had. (Thank you, Charles. Thank you for this evening)

Charles smiled, understanding the unspoken emotions. "De rien, Yn. Always here for you."

Little did Yn know, the events of the evening had set the stage for a budding connection with Joris, a connection that held the promise of more adventures and moments yet to unfold.

i hope you liked it and if you want to know more about joris and yn and the adventures they are going to follow stay tuned (also the annoying ballet girls are coming back but they are going to know who not mess with)

taglist: @love4lando @gcldtom @im-mi @topguncultleader @celesteblack08 @reblog-princess @sunf1ower16

Behind the camera -> chapter 6

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

author note1: i love them your honor

uthor note2: if you want to be in the taglist comment it or send me a message <3 and i hope you like it

@reveriesources

The week passed in a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation for Yn. Thoughts of the upcoming weekend with Joris filled her mind, and she couldn't help but steal glances at her phone, eagerly awaiting his message. The day finally arrived, and Yn found herself nervously preparing for their rendezvous.

Joris, equally anxious and excited, arrived at Yn's house with a small bouquet of flowers. The doorbell rang, and Yn opened the door to find Joris standing there, a shy smile on his face.

"Pour toi," Joris said, presenting the flowers to Yn. (For you)

Yn's eyes lit up, and she graciously accepted the gift. "C'est magnifique, Joris. Merci!" (It's beautiful, Joris. Thank you!)

As they embarked on their weekend adventure, Yn and Joris explored the beautiful streets of Monte Carlo, sharing laughter and getting to know each other better. The shyness that initially lingered between them began to fade, replaced by a comfortable companionship. Joris had suggested a simple yet charming picnic in a nearby park, and Yn, dressed in a casual yet stylish outfit, met him with a smile.

"Tu aimes la musique?" Joris asked, attempting to keep the conversation flowing. (Do you like music?)

"Oui, j'adore la musique," Yn responded, her eyes lighting up. (Yes, I love music)

They stumbled upon a street performer playing a melodic tune on his guitar. Yn and Joris found a quiet spot to sit and enjoy the music, their shoulders brushing against each other.

"Ça te plaît?" Joris asked, stealing a glance at Yn. (Do you like it?)

"Oui, c'est magnifique," Yn replied, her heart fluttering as she caught his gaze. (Yes, it's beautiful)

The picnic blanket was spread under the shade of a large oak tree, and as they enjoyed the homemade sandwiches and snacks, Yn couldn't help but feel a connection growing between them. The ease with which they talked, the shared laughter, and the occasional shy glances all contributed to an atmosphere that felt special.

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city. Joris, feeling a surge of courage, turned to Yn.

Joris, looking both nervous and determined, took a deep breath. "Yn, euh… il y a quelque chose que je voulais te dire." (Yn, um… there's something I wanted to tell you.)

Yn turned towards him, her curiosity piqued. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" she asked, smiling. (What is it?)

"Yn, il y a quelque chose que je veux te dire," Joris began, his voice tinged with a mix of shyness and sincerity. (Yn, there's something I want to tell you)

Yn turned towards him, her eyes reflecting the fading sunlight. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" she asked, genuinely curious. (What is it?)

"Euh, je… je t'aime bien, Yn. Plus que comme une amie," Joris confessed, his cheeks flushing with vulnerability. (Um, I… I really like you, Yn. More than as a friend)

Yn's eyes widened in surprise, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Joris, je… je ne m'attendais pas à ça," she admitted, her heart fluttering with a mixture of emotions. (Joris, I… I didn't expect this)

Joris looked down, nervously fidgeting. "Je comprends si tu ne ressens pas la même chose. C'est juste que je voulais te le dire." (I understand if you don't feel the same way. I just wanted to tell you)

Yn's heart skipped a beat as the weight of his words sank in. She looked into his eyes, a mixture of surprise and warmth reflected in her gaze. Y/N's heart raced, and a warm blush spread across her cheeks. She looked down at her plate for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "Joris, I feel the same way. I like you too"

A smile broke across Joris's face, a mix of relief and joy. "You do?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for confirmation

Y/N nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips. "Yes, Joris. I really do"

Joris, summoning the courage he had gathered throughout the day, stammered, "Yn, euh, est-ce que tu voudrais bien être ma petite amie?" (Yn, um, would you like to be my girlfriend?)

Yn's heart skipped a beat, and she looked at him with a mix of surprise and joy. "Oui, Joris. Ça serait génial." (Yes, Joris. That would be great.)

The shy boy's face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy. They shared a quiet moment, savoring the sweetness of the confession and the promise of something new.

As the weight of their confessions hung in the air, an electric tension enveloped them. Joris reached across the table, gently cupping Y/N's cheek with his hand. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still.

Unable to contain their feelings any longer, Joris leaned in, capturing Y/N's lips with his own. The world around them faded away as they shared a sweet, lingering kiss. It was a moment they had both been waiting for, a culmination of unspoken emotions.

When they finally pulled away, both were left breathless and wide-eyed. A shared bashful smile passed between them as the realization of what had just transpired set in

"Wow," Joris whispered, his cheeks tinted with a rosy hue "That was… amazing"

Y/N chuckled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, it was"

Realizing the evening had slipped away, Joris looked at his watch and furrowed his brow. "It's getting late, Yn. I should walk you home, just to make sure nothing happens"

Yn chuckled, appreciating his concern. "That would be nice, Joris"

Hand in hand, they strolled out of the park, the city lights of Monaco beginning to twinkle in the distance. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms and the gentle murmur of their laughter, marking the beginning of a beautiful chapter in their young lives.

taglist: @love4lando @gcldtom @im-mi @topguncultleader @celesteblack08 @reblog-princess @sunf1ower16

Behind the camera -> chapter 7

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

author note1: more yn/joris fluff 🥹🥹 don't worry drama is coming 😈😈 also 1'5 k words chapter :))

The sun hung low in the sky as the Leclerc family prepared for their much-anticipated summer vacation in France. Yn, Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo packed their bags, excitement bubbling within them. The air was filled with a contagious energy, heightened by the prospect of spending quality time together in the picturesque French coast.

"Joris, hurry up! We're going to leave you behind," Yn called out from the doorway of her room, a playful grin on her face.

Joris appeared in the hallway, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Patience, mon amour. I just want to make sure I've got everything," he replied, his words dripping with a hint of French charm.

Charles chuckled, slinging an arm around his sister's shoulders. "At least someone has the right idea. We can't afford to forget anything when we're traveling with this bunch."

Downstairs, the Leclerc family gathered in the foyer, ready to embark on their escapade. Arthur, the youngest of the siblings, was already by the door, sporting a wide grin. "Are we leaving yet?"

Their father, Hervé, laughed. "Almost, Arthur. Just waiting for your mother and Lorenzo."

As if on cue, Lorenzo descended the staircase, his eyes scanning the room. "All set, Lorenzo?" their mother, Pascale, asked.

He nodded, his gaze drifting to Yn. "Ready for a summer to remember?"

Yn rolled her eyes playfully. "Please, as if any summer could top this one."

The Leclercs made their way to the waiting cars, joined by their friends and their families. Joris and his family, Riccardo's family, Martha and her parents—everyone had eagerly agreed to join in on the adventure. The air was filled with chatter as they set off, the promise of an unforgettable vacation lingering in the warm breeze.

In the car, Yn and Joris shared a quiet moment. She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling. "I can't believe we're finally going on vacation together."

Joris leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. "Je suis ravi d'être ici avec toi (I'm delighted to be here with you)."

Yn giggled, the language of love a sweet melody between them " You are so cheesy."

He winked. "Guilty as charged."

Yn, stealing a glance at Joris, whispered, "Tu sais que je t'aime, n'est-ce pas?" (You know I love you, right?)

Joris smiled warmly, "Oui, et moi aussi, je t'aime." (Yes, and I love you too.)

"Ce sera une aventure incroyable, n'est-ce pas, Charles?" Yn whispered to her brother, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. (It will be an incredible adventure, won't it, Charles?)

"Absolument, Yn. I can't wait to explore Cote d'Azur with everyone," Charles replied, a wide grin on his face.

Once in the car, Charles leaned over to Yn, a mischievous glint in his eye. "This is going to be epic. Just wait until you see the places I've planned for us to visit."

The convoy of cars, filled with laughter and excited chatter, made its way along the winding roads leading to the beautiful picturesque villa that would be their home for the next few weeks. Yn, sitting beside her twin brother Charles, couldn't contain her excitement as they approached their destination.

The villa, nestled amidst rolling hills and surrounded by vineyards, welcomed the group with open arms. The Leclercs, along with their friends, settled into the spacious rooms, each decorated with a touch of elegance.

"Hey, Pierre! Tu es prêt pour des vacances épiques?" Arthur greeted, embracing one of his brother 's best friend Pierre Gasly.

"Absolument, mon pote! These holidays are going to be legendary!" Pierre replied, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

As the sun began its descent, the group gathered on the terrace for a feast prepared by the villa's chef. The aroma of very appetizing food filled the air, making everyone's stomachs rumble in anticipation.

Yn and Joris found themselves seated next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table as they exchanged affectionate glances. The language of love flowed effortlessly between them, a secret shared amidst the lively conversations.

"Tu es magnifique ce soir, Yn," Joris whispered to Yn, his eyes filled with admiration. (You look beautiful tonight, Yn.)

"Merci, Joris. Tu n'es pas mal non plus," Yn replied, a playful smile gracing her lips. (Thank you, Joris. You're not too shabby yourself)

"Demain, nous devrions tous aller explorer le village voisin. Qu'en pensez-vous?" Lorenzo suggested, the excitement evident in his voice. (Tomorrow, we should all go explore the nearby village. What do you think?)

"Oui, ça semble génial!" Martha exclaimed, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. (Yes, that sounds amazing!)

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The next day, the group decided to explore the town and go to the beach, the group spread out on the beach, some opting for sunbathing, others building sandcastles, and the Gasly brothers challenging each other to beach volleyball. Yn and Joris decided to take a leisurely stroll along the water's edge.

After their beach escapade, the group ventured into the heart of Cagnes-sur-Mer. They explored the bustling markets, quaint shops, and iconic landmarks, capturing the moments with laughter and photographs.

"Regardez ce magnifique endroit! On dirait un rêve," Martha exclaimed, snapping pictures of the panoramic view. (Look at this magnificent place! It feels like a dream.)

As they strolled through the cobblestone streets, Arthur excitedly pointed at an ice cream shop. "On devrait tous prendre une glace, non?" (We should all get ice cream, right?)

Lorenzo chuckled, ruffling Arthur's hair. "Bonne idée, petit frère"

As they strolled along the picturesque streets, Yn walked hand in hand with Joris, their fingers intertwined. The connection between them was palpable, a testament to the love that had blossomed since they were 12 or 13. Their shared glances spoke a language of their own, a secret understood by everyone around.

The group arrived at a vibrant ice cream shop and créperie, the tantalizing aroma of freshly made crepes and the promise of sweet delights greeted them.

Yn turned to Joris with a mischievous grin. "Qu'est-ce que tu vas prendre, mon amour? (What are you going to have, my love?)"

Joris chuckled, "Je pense que je vais prendre une crêpe au Nutella. (I think I'll have a Nutella crepe)"

After the group had ordered their  ice cream, enjoying the cool treat as they strolled towards the city.  Yn's eyes sparkled as she savored the sweet taste of hazelnut gelato, her favorite. The sound of waves crashing against the shore mingled with the laughter and chatter of the friends and family.

"Tu devrais essayer celui-ci, c'est incroyable," she nudged Joris, offering him a spoonful of her chosen flavor. (You should try this one; it's amazing.)

Joris chuckled, accepting the offer. "C'est vraiment délicieux!" (It's really delicious!)

 Martha, one of Yn's closest friends, elbowed her, teasing, "Vous deux, c'est l'amour fou!" (You two are madly in love!)

Joris grinned, "L'amour rend tout plus beau!" (Love makes everything more beautiful!)

After the creperie, they meandered through souvenir shops, collecting trinkets to commemorate their trip. Yn couldn't resist a soft giggle as Joris playfully picked out a matching keychain. The laughter of the teenagers echoed through the air, blending with the joyous atmosphere of the coastal town.

"Regardez ces deux-là, toujours assortis!" (Look at these two, always matching!) teased Martha, a mischievous grin on her face. The group erupted into laughter, gently poking fun at the inseparable couple.

"Vous êtes vraiment mignons, vous deux!" (You two are really cute!) Lorenzo teased.

The girls, including Yn, took a detour to explore boutiques, finding summery clothes to add to their wardrobes. Yn's infectious joy radiated as she twirled in a vibrant sundress, eliciting approving nods from the group.

As they continued their adventure, they visited iconic tourist spots like the Renoir Museum and the Medieval village Haut-de-Cagnes, snapping photos along the way. The group playfully teased Yn and Joris, capturing candid moments of their affection.

"Les tourtereaux!" (The lovebirds!) Jacques exclaimed, causing Yn to blush.

Yn rolled her eyes playfully, "Arrêtez de vous moquer de nous!" (Stop teasing us!)

"Regardez cette vue magnifique! (Look at this magnificent view!)" exclaimed Charles, gesturing towards the azure waters of the Ligurian Sea.

"Vraiment incroyable!" replied Yn, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

As the sun began to set, the teenagers returned to the beach, gathering for a group photo.

As they reached the sun-kissed beach, the group found a spot to relax. Yn and Joris, their fingers entwined, watched the azure waves together. Lorenzo, looking at them with a smirk, teased, "L'amour est dans l'air, n'est-ce pas?" (Love is in the air, isn't it?)

"Vous deux, toujours dans votre petit monde d'amour." (You two, always in your little world of love.) Pierre nudges both the teenagers with a grin on his face.

"Et pourquoi pas? L'amour est magnifique, n'est-ce pas?" (And why not? Love is beautiful, isn't it?) Joris says, pulling Yn closer to him.

The group spent the afternoon soaking up the sun, splashing in the crystal-clear waters, and taking pictures against the breathtaking backdrop. Yn and Joris, with gelato in hand, posed for a photo, the joy evident in their eyes.

The camera clicked, freezing the moment in time—Yn, Joris, the Leclercs, Gaslys, and their friends—bound by the magic of a summer escape on the enchanting Blue Coast of France.

taglist: @love4lando @gcldtom @im-mi @topguncultleader @celesteblack08 @reblog-princess @sunf1ower16

Behind the camera -> chapter 8

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

author note1: more yn/joris fluff 🥹🥹 based on charles los angeles vlog here

The warm California sun welcomed Charles Leclerc and his entourage as they stepped off the plane at Los Angeles International Airport. The city's vibrant energy and palm-lined streets signaled the beginning of a much-needed break for the Formula 1 driver and his companions.

"Ah, Los Angeles! It's good to be here," Charles exclaimed, stretching his arms wide.

Andrea, Charles’ trainer, nodded in agreement. "Sì, Los Angeles è sempre bello. È il momento di divertirsi" ( Los Angeles is always beautifuI) (t's time to have fun)

Joris, Charles's best friend and Yn's boyfriend, grinned. "Time for some fun, my friends!"

As they settled into their luxurious villa, Charles couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. "This is exactly what I needed, guys. A break from the racing world and some time to unwind," he said, a genuine smile on his face.

The group, which included Charles, Andrea, Joris, Charles's girlfriend Alexandra, Riccardo, and his wife Marta, as well as Antoine, Charles's photographer and videographer, headed to their hotel to drop off their bags. Charles couldn't help but glance at Yn, his twin sister, who was engaged in lively conversation with Alex.

"Hey, Yn, ready for some LA adventures?" Charles teased, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Yn rolled her eyes. "Always ready, Charles. As long as you don't embarrass me too much, big brother"

The group's first activity was a friendly basketball game at a nearby court. Charles, not known for his basketball skills, tried his best to dribble and shoot hoops.

"Mon dieu, Charles, maybe stick to racing, tu es vraiment nul au basket!" Yn teased him, earning a laugh from the others.

Alexandra chuckled, also teasing him, "Yea, mon cher, maybe stick to the racetrack. Your skills on the court are... how do you say... not impressive."

Charles smirked, replying in kind, "Eh bien, at least I'm a world-class driver, not a basketball player. And Yn you think you’re very funny, Yn. Let's see you try" Charles replied, passing the ball to her.

After a few failed attempts, Yn admitted defeat. "Okay, maybe basketball is not my forte either, it's a twins thing"

The group decided to cool off with some ice cream, sharing laughs and stories. Charles couldn't help but admire the way Joris and Yn interacted—the subtle glances, the shared jokes. It was a reminder of the strong bond they all shared.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following day, the group rented bikes and explored the iconic Venice Beach boardwalk. Charles and Alex shared a tandem e-scooter, while Yn sat on Joris's lap and with Andrea on another.

"Vous avez l'air tellement mignons ensemble!" Alexandra grinned. (You two look so cute together!)

Yn couldn't help but giggle as Joris wrapped his arms around her waist. "Looks like you guys are having fun," Charles shouted from behind them, causing them all to burst out laughing.

Yn blushed, playfully swatting her brother's arm. "Ignorez-lui, il est juste jaloux" Joris calms her before the two siblings start bickering (Ignore him, he’s just jealous)

"Bon, let the race begin!" Charles declared, revving the e-scooter engine.

Andrea struggled to keep up, and Yn couldn't stop giggling at his attempts. The Venice Beach adventure ended with a mini-race, with everyone enjoying the wind in their hair.

Next on the itinerary was a trip from Malibu to Universal Studios. Yn couldn't contain her excitement, especially when they entered The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

"Charles, we need to buy wands!" Yn exclaimed, practically dragging him into Ollivanders.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Yn whispered, holding her wand and exploring the magical surroundings and Charles chuckled, indulging his sister's enthusiasm "You really are a fan, aren't you?"

Yn winked. "Always."

"Charles, you have to try the butterbeer! It's amazing!" she exclaimed, dragging him toward the Three Broomsticks.

"Alright, alright, I'll give it a go," Charles chuckled, letting Yn lead the way.

Meanwhile, Joris and Alexandra rushed behind them, especially behind Yn. "I can't believe we're here," Joris whispered

"Me neither, but it's magical and they seem so excited," she replied, high fiving him.

"Look at her, she's like a kid in a candy store," Alexandra remarked, her arm intertwined with Charles'’ when they finally reached the twins in a merchandise shop.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The group also spent another day at Six Flags, where Charles, Alex, and Yn attempted to persuade Andrea and Joris to go on some thrilling rides.

"I prefer the safety of solid ground," Joris insisted, while Andrea nodded in agreement.

Charles, not one to be deterred, grabbed Joris and Andrea by their arms and playfully dragged them towards the rides.

"Come on, guys! Live a little!" Charles exclaimed.

"Non, non, pas question," Andrea protested (No, no, out of the question)

Joris nodded in agreement. "We'll pass, thanks"

"Come on, Andrea, we'll hold your hand the whole time," Yn said with a grin.

Yn, ever the persuader, looked at Joris with puppy-dog eyes, "Allez, mon amour, just one ride!"

"Yeah, come on, guys! It's all in good fun," Alexandra urged, exchanging a glance with Yn.

Joris resisted, but Yn's persistence paid off. Andrea, on the other hand, was tougher to crack. Charles, feigning violence, grabbed Andrea and Joris by the collars, threatening with a smile, "You're coming with us, whether you like it or not!"

Andrea finally relented, and the four of them headed to the ride. As they waited in line, Charles couldn't resist teasing Andrea about his fear.

"Don't worry, Andrea, I'll protect you," he joked, wrapping an arm around his trainer.

Andrea rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the smile on his face.

The group's day ended with a whimsical game at the carnival section of Six Flags. A victorious throw won them two enormous plushie bananas. Gleefully, they engaged in a playful banana battle, filling the air with laughter and the occasional thud of soft impacts.

"Attention! Incoming banana attack!" Charles shouted unexpectedly.

Laughter echoed as bananas flew through the air, hitting targets with precision. Alexandra threatened Charles, "If you hit me one more time, you're sleeping on the couch tonight!"

"Banana warfare!" Charles laughed, dodging plushie projectiles.

And they engaged in a hilarious banana fight, Joris and Andrea being the main targets.

The evening continued with board games and ping pong. Charles and Andrea engaged in fierce ping pong battles, while Yn and Alexandra shared laughter and girly moments.

"Hey, Yn, let's go shopping tomorrow before we leave," Alexandra said, breaking Yn out of her thoughts.

Yn grinned. "I would love that"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning, Alexandra and Yn set out for their much-anticipated shopping trip in the heart of Los Angeles. The city's famed boutiques and exclusive shops awaited their exploration. The sunlit streets beckoned them as they strolled, laughter and excitement filling the air.

Their first stop was a trendy boutique showcasing the latest in Los Angeles fashion. Racks adorned with colorful dresses, stylish accessories, and unique pieces lined the walls. Alexandra and Yn eagerly sifted through the racks, exchanging opinions and approving nods.

"I can't believe how different the styles are here," Yn remarked, holding up a vibrant sundress.

Alexandra nodded in agreement. "It's a whole new world of fashion. I love it!"

After finding some stylish additions to their wardrobes, the duo headed to Shepora, that promised exclusive and makeup brands that are not available in Europe.

Yn's eyes widened as she discovered the vibrant array of products, including makeup from House Glass, and other niche brands that had yet to make their way across the Atlantic.

"Alex, look at this! I've heard so much about this and now we can finally try it" Yn exclaimed, her excitement contagious.

Alexandra, equally thrilled, added a few items to her basket. "And House Glass! I've been dying to get my hands on their products. This is like a beauty paradise."

The duo then ventured into clothing stores that were exclusive to the United States. American Vintage, Brandy Melville, and Forever 21 were on their list, promising a unique shopping experience with styles not commonly found in their European wardrobes.

As they explored the racks of clothes and tried on various outfits, the two friends couldn't contain their joy. Yn found a bohemian-style dress at American Vintage that perfectly suited her taste, while Alexandra discovered a trendy jacket at Brandy Melville that she couldn't resist.

With bags full of fashionable finds and exclusive makeup and after a successful shopping spree, the duo met with the rest of the group for a leisurely lunch. They chose a charming outdoor cafe with a relaxed atmosphere, where the California sun cast a warm glow over the scene.The vibrant energy of Los Angeles seemed to follow them, making the meal even more enjoyable.

Charles, Joris, Andrea, Riccardo, Marta, and Antoine were eager to hear about the shopping escapades of the two ladies.

"So, how was the shopping spree, ladies?" Charles asked with a grin.

Yn laughed, "We may have gone a little overboard, but it's all worth it."

Yn and Alexandra couldn't stop sharing their excitement, showcasing their newfound treasures and makeup finds. The group laughed and exchanged stories, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie.

Charles, Joris, Andrea, and the others eagerly greeted Yn and Alexandra, curious about their shopping spoils. The table quickly became a showcase of vibrant fabrics and makeup palettes.

"Wow, those dresses are stunning!" Joris exclaimed, eyeing the bags.

"And look at these makeup goodies! You two are going to turn heads," Charles added with a grin.

"Looks like the shopping trip was a success," Joris remarked, his eyes twinkling.

As they settled into lunch, the conversation flowed seamlessly between bites of delicious California cuisine. Yn and Alexandra recounted their shopping adventures, sharing anecdotes about the unique styles and products they discovered.

"Next time, we're all going shopping together!" exclaimed Marta, glancing at the fashionable purchases.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city of angels, the group bid farewell to the vibrant streets of Los Angeles. Early the next morning, they would embark on the next leg of their journey, heading to the Vegas Grand Prix.

The excitement in the air was palpable as they boarded the plane, their hearts still buzzing with the memories of the Californian adventure. Ahead lay the glittering lights of Las Vegas, where the roar of engines would once again take center stage in the world of Formula 1.

i hope you liked it and if you want to know more about joris and yn and the adventures they are going to follow stay tuned (drama coming soon)

taglist: @love4lando @gcldtom @im-mi @topguncultleader @celesteblack08 @reblog-princess @sunf1ower16

Behind the camera -> chapter 9

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next->

author note1: angst and mean girls are back hahahah 😈😈

As the bell rang, signaling the end of another school day, Yn Leclerc gathered her belongings and made her way towards the school's exit. Her heart raced with anticipation, for today was a day like no other. The Princesse Grace Dance Academy awaited her, and the joy of dancing was the perfect escape from the troubles that awaited her outside the classroom. 

Yn's golden curls bounced as she walked, and her ballet bag swung gracefully at her side. She couldn't wait to join her friends at the academy, especially her best friend, Marta. They had been through thick and thin together, supporting each other's dreams, and now they were on a journey to becoming professional ballerinas

However, the path to pursuing her passion was not without its challenges. A group of girls, once her ballet companions in her school’s ballet extracurricular activity, resented Yn for achieving what they hadn't – acceptance into the prestigious academy. The trio had never quite recovered from being left behind at the school's ballet classes, while Yn and Marta moved on to the illustrious academy.

The trio of tormentors approached, their disdain painted across their faces like poorly masked jealousy. Yn's heart raced, but she straightened her posture, determined not to let their negativity affect her.

"Regardez qui voilà, la petite danseuse étoile," Emelie sneered as they approached, their perfectly coordinated steps emphasizing the mockery in their voices. (Look who's here, the little prima ballerina)

Yn tightened her grip on her pointe shoes, her eyes narrowing at the trio. She knew what was coming, but she wasn't going to let their words break her.

"Hey, Yn, maybe you should teach us some of those fancy moves you've been learning at your 'prestigious' academy," Camille added, her tone dripping with sarcasm. (Maybe you could show us some of those fancy moves you've been learning at your 'prestigious' academy.)

The leader of the trio, Isabelle, sneered, "You might be at the academy, but you'll never truly belong."

Yn took a deep breath, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. "Merci pour votre opinion, Isabelle. (Thank you for your opinion, Isabelle)," she replied, maintaining a calm exterior despite the storm within.

Yn took a deep breath, steeling herself against the words that stung like arrows. "I don't have time for this. Leave me alone."

"Oh, la petite princesse est trop fière maintenant." (Oh, the little princess is too proud now.)

Isabelle smirked, crossing her arms. "Oh, don't worry, Yn. We just wanted to check in on our little prodigy. It must be tough being the only one from our old group to make it into the academy."

Yn's jaw clenched, but before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension. "Yn, there you are!" Joris approached with a bright smile, followed by Marta, Riccardo, Nico, Hugo, and of cours her brother Charles.

“Qu'est-ce qui se passe ici?" (What's going on here?) Joris asked, shooting a stern look at the other girls.

"Nothing, we were just catching up with our old friend Yn," Isabelle said, feigning innocence.

Emelie, Camille, and Isabelle exchanged glances, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected support Yn had gathered.

Isabelle sneered, "Your sister thinks she's too good for us now that she's in this fancy academy. She's not as special as she thinks."

Marta, ever the fiery defender, retorted, "Elle est incroyable, Isabelle. And you're just jealous because you couldn't make the cut."

"She doesn't deserve it! It's not fair!" ("Elle ne le mérite pas ! Ce n'est pas juste !") Camille says looking agitated

"Tough luck, maybe you should've worked harder." Marta responds while crouching down to hug Yn. "Vous n'avez rien de mieux à faire?" (Don't you have anything better to do?) Marta, standing tall beside Yn, shot a defiant look at the bullies. "What's the matter, Isabelle? Afraid Yn will outshine you?"

Charles stepped forward, his protective older brother instincts kicking in. "C'est marrant, parce que ça ressemble plutôt à du harcèlement. (Funny, because it looks more like harassment)"

Yn felt a surge of gratitude as her friends gathered around her. "These girls are just bitter because they didn't make it into the academy. Don't let them get to you" Joris placed a reassuring hand on Yn's waist 

"Allons-y, YN. Ils ne valent pas notre temps" (Let's go, YN They're not worth our time) Hugo said while all the group surrounded yn to do a grupal hug and accompany her home.

The group walked away, leaving the mean girls fuming in their wake. Yn couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. With friends like these, she knew she could overcome anything that came her way.

Yn felt a wave of gratitude for her friends and her brother. Once the mean girls were out of sight, Charles put a reassuring arm around Yn. "Are you okay, petite sœur?" (little sister)

Yn nodded, touched by the unwavering support around her. "Thanks to all of you. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Come on, Yn. Let's go home," Charles said, wrapping an arm around her.

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Later, the Leclerc twins arrived home. Pascale, sensing something amiss, looked at them with concern. "Comment était votre journée, mes amours?" (How was your day, my loves?)

Yn smiled, "Ma journée était doux-amer, maman. Mais mes amis et Charles m'ont protégée." (My day was bittersweet, Mom. But my friends and Charles protected me.)

Charles, protective as always, chimed in, "Those girls were just jealous, Yn. Don't let them get to you."

Pascale, placing plates on the table, listened attentively. "Tell me, mon cherie, what happened?"

Yn, grateful for the unwavering support of her family and friends, began to recount the events of the day, while Charles interjected with comforting words.

"Elles étaient jalouses de toi, ma petite sœur," Charles reassured her. ("They were jealous of you, my little sister.")

Charles added, "Nous sommes toujours là pour elle, maman." (We're always here for her, Mom.)

Their maman beamed with pride, "Je suis si fière de vous deux. Vous êtes une équipe formidable." (I am so proud of both of you. You are a fantastic team.) Just after praising them she hurried Yn to start eating faster, "Dépêche-toi, ma ballerine, tu dois aller à l'académie de danse. L'académie t'attend (Hurry, my ballerina, you need to go to the dance academy. The academy is waiting for you)" 

And in that moment, Yn knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she had her family and friends by her side, ready to face them together.

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The afternoon passed quickly for Yn at the academy. The teachers were impressed with her progress, and they made sure to relay the good news to Pascale when she picked Yn up. Pascale couldn't help but beam with pride, knowing that her daughter was destined for greatness in the world of dance and Yn returned from the academy, tired but content

Meanwhile, Charles also arrived home after a rigorous training session at the karting track, guided by his father. Fatigue and satisfaction blended on his face.

As evening descended, the tired but satisfied twins returned home, with also their little brother Arthur, who was practicing with Charles. Pascale had prepared a feast for dinner – a family favorite, barbagiuan. The aroma filled the kitchen, welcoming the hungry trio.

The family gathered around the table, sharing stories of their day. Charles recounted the highlights of his karting training, and Yn shared the encouraging words from her dance teachers. Pascale and their papa, Hervé, listened with admiration.

"Les professeurs disent que tu as un avenir prometteur dans la danse, Yn. The teachers say you have a promising future in dance" Pascale proudly announced, raising her glass in a toast.

Arthur, always the enthusiastic one, jumped up and hugged Yn. "C'est incroyable, Yn! You're amazing!"

Charles grinned. "On est tous fiers de toi, Yn" (We're all proud of you, Yn)

Yn returned her brother's smile "Vous êtes les meilleurs frères du monde" (You're the best brothers in the world)

The night ended with laughter, shared accomplishments, and the comforting presence of family. As Yn drifted off to sleep, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the support of her loved ones. No matter what challenges lay ahead, she knew she could face them with the unwavering love and encouragement of her family by her side.

i hope you liked it and if you want to know more about yn and the leclercs and the adventures they are going to follow stay tuned (more drama coming soon and pierre is doing an apereance soon)

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BEHIND THE CAMERA -> CHAPTER 10

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Inside Yn and Joris’ apartment it was not a peaceful morning as tension lingered in the air. Yn and Joris, had been on a rough patch for the past week. The constant arguments had created a palpable distance between them, but with the Grand Prix coming, they had no choice but to put their differences aside.

“Yn, do you have any idea where my passport is?” Joris called out, his irritation thinly veiled.

Yn glanced up, her eyes meeting his with an exasperated look. “I don't know, Joris. Maybe check your bag?”

Their bickering had escalated over the week, each disagreement building upon the last. The tension had reached its peak, yet neither of them was willing to address the underlying issues. The argument had started with a late-night return after a party, but it had spiraled into a series of disagreements over the smallest things. Forgotten housework became a battleground, and their once harmonious home now echoed with the sounds of discord.

"Joris, we can't keep going on like this," she said in French, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

He shot her a sharp look, his response equally sharp, "Maybe if you took things more seriously, we wouldn't have to."

Yn sighed as she packed her bags, glancing at Joris who was doing the same. "We can't let our personal issues affect Charles and the team," she muttered, her tone strained.

Joris nodded, avoiding eye contact. "We'll get through this weekend, and then we can talk."

In the airport, Charles Leclerc greeted his sister with a smile, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between Yn and Joris. As they joined the Ferrari team, Andrea, Charles' trainer and friend, noticed the strained atmosphere.

"Yn, abbiamo notato qualcosa di strano ultimamente. Tutto a posto tra te e Joris?" (Yn, we've noticed something strange lately. Everything okay between you and Joris?) Andrea asked, concern etched across his face.

Yn hesitated, glancing at Joris before responding, "No, tutto bene. Siamo solo stanchi (No, everything's fine. We're just tired)"

Andrea, however, wasn't easily fooled "Non sembra solo stanchezza. Cosa sta succedendo?" (It doesn't seem like just tiredness. What's going on?) "Ricorda, siamo una famiglia qui. Se c'è qualcosa che va male, parliamone" (Remember, we're a family here. If something is wrong, let's talk about it)

Yn sighed, "Abbiamo litigato. Ma non vogliamo distrarre Charles e il team, quindi stiamo cercando di risolvere tutto privatamente." (We had a fight. But we don't want to distract Charles and the team, so we're trying to sort it out privately.)

Andrea nodded knowingly, his dark eyes showing empathy. "Ricordati che la comunicazione è la chiave. Parlatene prima che diventi troppo grande." (Remember, communication is key. Talk about it before it becomes too big)

Despite Andrea's advice, Yn and Joris continued to maintain a façade of normalcy. The strain persisted until even Charles couldn't ignore the palpable tension.

"Qu'est-ce qui se passe, Joris?" (What's going on, Joris?) Charles inquired, sensing the discomfort.

Joris hesitated before responding, "Rien, Charles. Juste quelques désaccords." (Nothing, Charles. Just a few disagreements.)

Charles wasn't convinced but chose not to push further. The trio continued their work, managing to maintain a facade of normalcy in front of the rest of the team.

As the weekend unfolded, the tension lingered beneath the surface, affecting their efficiency. Andrea, however, wasn't one to let things slide.

"Non potete continuare così. Risolvete i vostri problemi, le vostre energie negative non aiutano né voi né Charles" (You can't go on like this, sort out your problems. Your negative energies help neither you nor Charles) 

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As the morning sun bathed the hotel room in a warm glow on Sunday morning, Yn couldn't help but feel a heaviness in her heart. Yn sighed, glancing at herself in the mirror. She adjusted her makeup, trying to find solace in the routine. Joris, sitting on the bed, was scrolling through his phone, seemingly engrossed in something that wasn't the current situation.

"Joris, nous devons parler" (Joris, we need to talk) Yn spoke up for the first time that day.

"Peut-on le faire plus tard? Nous avons déjà assez de problèmes." (Can we do it later? We already have enough issues) Joris glanced up to look at her across the room, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

"Non, Joris. C'est assez. Je ne peux pas continuer comme ça" (No, Joris. It's enough. I can't go on like this)

Their eyes met in the mirror, and a heavy silence lingered for a moment.

"Je m'ennuie de toi" (I miss you) Yn starts as she feels her eyes getting teary of the frustration she has had for more than a week.

Joris put his phone down, looking genuinely surprised by Yn's vulnerability.

Joris met her gaze, his expression softening "Yn, je suis désolé pour tout. Les disputes, c'était idiot. Je ne voulais pas que ça dure aussi longtemps" (Yn, I'm sorry for everything. The arguments were foolish. I didn't want it to last this long)

Yn nodded, a tear escaping her eye "Moi non plus. J'ai manqué de sommeil cette semaine, et je ne pouvais pas être en colère contre toi plus longtemps. Tu m'as manqué" (Me neither. I've been sleep-deprived this week, and I couldn't stay angry at you any longer. I missed you)

They both apologized, acknowledging their faults, and gradually the weight of the week began to lift. Joris reached out and touched Yn's hand, "Je suis désolée" (I'm sorry)

"Tu es magnifique, Yn. As always" (You look beautiful, Yn) Joris complimented her.

"Merci, Joris. You don't look too bad yourself," Yn replied with a teasing smile.

Their eyes locked, and the weight of the past week seemed to lift. Yn and Joris shared a tender moment of reconciliation, their unspoken words mending the fractures in their relationship. Without a word, they closed the gap between them and shared a heartfelt kiss, the first in what felt like an eternity.

As Yn and Joris emerged from their room, hand in hand, the team members noticed the change in their demeanor. Charles grinned, nudging his sister and best friend. "Looks like our favorite couple has made up."

As they made their way to the hotel buffet for breakfast, the other members of the Leclerc entourage couldn't help but notice the change in the atmosphere.

"Siete tornati insieme?" (Are you back together?)

Yn nodded with a shy smile, "Sì, Andrea. Abbiamo risolto le cose." (Yes, Andrea. We sorted things out.)

Andrea clapped Joris on the back, "Sono felice per voi!" (I'm happy for you!)

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As they headed to the race track, the camaraderie between Yn and Joris was evident. Charles, with a smirk, teased, "Finally remembered how to get along?"

Yn playfully nudged her brother, "Shut up, Charles. Today is about winning, and we're all in this together"

As the race unfolded, Charles displayed his skill on the track, and the Leclerc family watched with pride from the pit. The cheers of the team members echoed through the air as Charles crossed the finish line, securing a victory.

In the celebration that followed, Andrea embraced Yn and Joris, "Sono felice che vi siate riconciliati. La squadra ha bisogno di armonia" (I'm glad you reconciled. The team needs harmony)

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BEHIND THE CAMERA -> CHAPTER 11

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anon: sorry for this very small chapter, but i wanted to write about it

The end of the year brought a bitter chill to the Leclerc family, not just from the biting winter winds but from the lingering disappointment in Arthur's heart. Yn could sense her little brother's dejection as he sat in the cozy living room of their Monaco home, surrounded by the warmth of family. Arthur, the youngest Leclerc and once-promising F2 driver, found himself at a crossroads. His dreams had been shattered with DAMS choosing not to renew his contract, leaving him questioning his worth as a racer.

Pascale, the matriarch of the Leclerc clan, wrapped her arms around Arthur. "Mon chéri, you are not a failure. Racing is a tough world,success comes not only from victories but also from overcoming challenges, and setbacks are part of the journey"

Charles, the elder brother, added reassuringly, "You still have so many opportunities, Arthur. You'll bounce back stronger. It's just a bump in the road, not the end of the race."

Lorenzo chimed in, "Tu es toujours notre champion, même dans les moments difficiles. (You are always our champion, even in tough times)"

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The sun hung low over the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya as the Leclerc siblings gathered at the pit lane. Yn felt a surge of pride and anticipation as she watched her little brother, Arthur, prepare to take the wheel of Charles' scarlet Ferrari. The familiar aroma of petrol and rubber hung in the air, mixing with the nervous excitement that buzzed around the pit.

Charles, the eldest of the Leclerc siblings, leaned against the pit wall, his eyes fixed on the Ferrari with a mix of pride and concern. Yn could sense the weight on his shoulders as the team prepared for the upcoming Formula 1 season.

Arthur, having faced a challenging season in F2, had found himself without a seat for the upcoming season. However, fate had a different plan for him as Ferrari welcomed him as a development driver. The Barcelona test was Arthur's chance to prove himself, driving the same car that his older brother would soon race in the 2024 Formula 1 season.

"Allez Arthur. Montre-leur ce que tu as dans le ventre!" (Come on, Arthur. Show them what you've got!) Yn told him, her words a mix of excitement and encouragement.

Charles patted his brother on the back, saying, "This is your moment, Arthur. Show them what you're made of."

Arthur, his eyes gleaming with determination, climbed into the cockpit. The roar of the Ferrari engine echoed through the circuit as he sped down the straight.

Lorenzo, their older brother, stood nearby, offering a reassuring nod to Charles. "He's got this, Charles. Arthur has the talent, just like you."

Charles managed a small smile, appreciating Lorenzo's support. The roar of the engine drowned out further conversation as the Ferrari roared to life. Yn couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as the car pulled out onto the track.

Yn exchanged a look with Joris, whispering, "Il a tellement grandi," (He has grown so much).

Pascale, stood with a proud smile, capturing the moment on her phone. "Regardez-les! Mes enfants extraordinaires!" (Look at them! My extraordinary children!)

Joris, Charles' best friend and Yn's boyfriend, stood beside Yn, squeezing her hand gently. "Il va tout déchirer sur la piste, tu verras." (He's going to tear it up on the track, you'll see.)

Yn grinned, her eyes never leaving the speeding Ferrari. "I know he will, Joris. I just hope he gets a chance in F1 this season."

As the red blur of the Ferrari streaked by, Arthur's skill behind the wheel was evident. The radio crackled to life, and the team's communication with Arthur began. "Comment ça se passe, Arthur?" (How's it going, Arthur?) Charles asked through the headset.

"Ça va bien, Charles! La voiture est incroyable!" (It's going well, Charles! The car is amazing!) Arthur's voice crackled back, a mix of excitement and determination.

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I got a exam result in my English language back and got a c , I feel like I failed myself as people who've got lower than me in other exams got higher . Everyone is proud of me but I myself personally feel so bad with myself so I need a little comfort could you possibly write this like y/n gets a results back and didn't get what she wanted but everyone is proud of her but she breaks down in Joris and her brothers arms determined she's a failure .

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author note: Here's a small chapter (im sorry for being very short, im recovering from a cold, my defenses are very low and I am constantly sick) anyways lots of love <3 <3

The bell echoed through the hallways of Lycée Albert I, signaling the end of another school day. Y/N Leclerc gathered her belongings, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She glanced at her physics test result, a stark reminder of the unexpected challenge she had faced. Normally, she soared effortlessly through her studies, always achieving the maximum marks.

Joris, her boyfriend and Charles's best friend, noticed Y/N's pensive expression as they walked out of the classroom together. "Y/N, what's wrong? You usually ace these exams," he said, concern etched across his face.

"I don't know, Joris. It's just... I thought I had it all figured out, but this time, it just slipped away" Y/N frowned, her voice soft

Joris placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's just one test. You can bounce back from this. Let's go to Charles and the others, okay?"

In the courtyard, Y/N found solace in the presence of her friends, Martha, Riccardo, Hugo, and of course, Charles. As they gathered under the shade of a familiar tree

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Charles noticed her downcast expression as he approached, his school bag slung over one shoulder.

Y/N hesitated before opening up about her results "I... I got my physics test back," Y/n admitted, a lump forming in her throat.

Charles glanced at the paper in her hand. "You passed, right?"

"Yeah, but just barely" Y/n replied, avoiding eye contact.

Charles furrowed his brow, exchanging a concerned look with Joris. "What do you mean? You're always at the top of the class."

"I know, but this time, it's different. I feel like I let everyone down, especially myself" Y/N, said with a trembling voice. 

Joris offered a reassuring smile. "Y/N, you didn't let anyone down. Passing is still an achievement. Besides, we're all proud of you."

Martha, her bestfriend, tried to cheer her up. "Y/n, it's just one test, you're still amazing. We all have our off days. You'll bounce back from this."

"Oui, tu es très intelligente. (Yes, you are very smart)," Hugo added.

Riccardo added, "Exactly! And you can always ask for help if you're struggling with anything.

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As the day continued, Y/N couldn't shake off the weight of disappointment. When she reached home, she decided it was time to confide in her family.

In the cozy living room, Y/N sat down with her parents, Pascale and Hervé, and her older brother, Lorenzo. She nervously relayed the news of her test result "I thought I had it all under control, but I didn't. I feel like such a failure."

Lorenzo, her older brother, spoke first. "Y/N, getting a bad mark is not the end of the world. It's a lesson. You learn from your mistakes and improve. I failed exams too, you know."

"But I don't want to fail, Lolo. I want to be the best, for myself and for everyone who believes in me" Y/N looked at him, her eyes welling up with tears

Lorenzo enveloped her in a comforting hug. "Being the best doesn't mean never failing. It means learning and growing from your failures. You'll bounce back stronger, I promise."

Pascale joined in, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Chérie, we love you no matter what. tu es incroyable. Une note ne change rien à cela. You're still our brilliant and incredible baby girl" (you are incredible. One grade doesn't change that.)

Hervé added with a gentle smile, "And remember, even in moments of failure, you have a family and friends who will always support you, nous sommes fiers de toi, Y/n. Tu fais de ton mieux, et c'est tout ce qui compte" (We are proud of you, Y/n. You're doing your best, and that's all that matters)

As Y/N embraced her family, surrounded by their love and understanding, she began to see that the mark on the test didn't define her. It was just a step in her journey of growth and resilience.

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