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yuyuyukiii · 2 days ago

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Two dogs, One girl, One love story ⛐

Summary: Charles is trying to move on. His new girlfriend checks all the boxes, but there’s one problem. He can’t stop thinking about Y/N. And their dog, Leo, is making it worse. From suspicious barking to full-on sabotage, Leo clearly has a favorite. Now Charles has to figure out what’s louder: his own heart or a very dramatic golden dachshund.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Childhood Best Friend!Reader

Contains: A matchmaking dog, unresolved feelings, suspicious barking, soft denial, and a love story Leo is tired of waiting for.

Author’s Note 🏎️:

This story is purely fictional and written just for fun. No hate or shade toward anyone, especially not Alex. I genuinely love and respect her. This is just a lighthearted, chaotic little fic with a matchmaking dog and lots of feelings. Enjoy the drama, the fluff, and Leo’s unhinged energy 💛🐾

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

If you asked Charles when he first fell in love with Y/N, he wouldn’t know what to say. There wasn’t a moment. No lightning bolt. No fireworks. Just one day, she laughed at one of his terrible jokes and it hit him like a truck.

Oh. I love her.

But he never said anything. Because they were best friends. They’d been through braces, bad breakups, go-kart drama, and years of race weekends. Saying something now? Too risky. Too much.

So instead, he suffered. Silently. Like an idiot.

That is, until everyone around him decided to make it their business.

“You’re in love with her.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Pierre didn’t even look up from his phone as he threw the accusation out during a group dinner in Monaco. Arthur nodded, backing him up. Carlos just sipped his drink, waiting for Charles to cave.

“I’m not in love with Y/N,” Charles repeated, stabbing his pasta like it had personally offended him.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you threaten to fight a grown man because he looked at her in Italy?”

“I did not-”

Carlos pulled out his phone. “I have screenshots.”

“Those don’t count!”

“Charles, come on,” Pierre said, finally looking at him. “You’ve been in love with her since we were kids.”

Charles clenched his jaw. “I’m over it.”

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

They all laughed.

“I’m serious,” Charles insisted. “I’m dating someone.”

Everyone stopped laughing.

“You’re what?” Arthur asked.

Charles cleared his throat. “I’m dating someone.”

Pierre narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Who?”

“…Alex.”

Pierre blinked. “As in Alexandra? The art girl?”

“Yeah. That Alex.”

“Holy sh-”

Arthur slammed the table. “You’re dating the art girl just to prove a point!”

“I’m not!”

“You so are!”

Charles stared at them. “Can’t a man just date someone without being accused of emotional crimes?”

“No,” Pierre said. “Not when he’s obviously in love with someone else.”

———

Truthfully? Alex was great. Alexandra, technically, but he liked calling her Alex. She was pretty, cool, interesting. She dragged him to museums and taught him how to sketch like some artsy romantic. She didn’t blink when he zoned out at dinner, probably lost in some Y/N memory. And when he kept talking about Y/N? She just smiled and nodded like she already knew.

But it didn’t feel serious. Not even a little.

It felt like both of them were playing pretend. Like they were together just to not be lonely.

So, naturally, they made a Very Normal Couple Decision.

They got a dog.

Enter: Leo 🐾

“You don’t have to,” Alex had said, scrolling through an adoption site on her tablet. “But I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“I’m in,” Charles said too quickly.

A week later, Leo arrived.

He was a golden ball of fluff with judgmental eyes and a powerful attitude for someone who weighed less than a helmet.

Leo liked tennis balls, selective cuddles, and destroying Charles’ socks.

He hated the vacuum, Alex’s perfume, and being told what to do.

But overall? He was okay.

Until he met Y/N.

———

“Look at him!” Y/N gasped the first time she came over.

She dropped to the floor faster than Charles could blink. “Who’s the most handsome boy ever? Is it you? I think it’s you.”

Leo, who had previously ignored Charles for two hours, threw himself into her lap like he’d found his long-lost love.

Charles stood off to the side, arms crossed.

“He never lets me pick him up,” he muttered.

Y/N rubbed her face into Leo’s fur. “Because he has standards.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t get jealous just because your dog likes me more.”

“I’m not jealous of my own dog.”

Leo licked her nose.

Pierre, who had somehow FaceTimed himself into the situation, laughed through the phone. “Charles. You got replaced by a dog. In your own house.”

“Hang up.”

From that moment on, Leo was obsessed.

He wanted Y/N. Only Y/N.

She’d walk into a room, and Leo would bolt to her side. She’d laugh, and Leo would spin in circles. She’d leave, and Leo would sit at the door and whine.

Charles, meanwhile, was slowly losing his mind.

“Bro,” Arthur said one day, watching Leo ignore Alex. “He hates your girlfriend.”

“He doesn’t hate her. He’s just… more attached to Y/N.”

Pierre sent a voice note. “Aka..Leo knows who his real mom is.”

“Shut up.”

Max even sent a photo he took of Leo asleep in Y/N’s lap with the caption “he looks happier than you’ve ever been.”

Charles replied with ten middle finger emojis.

———

Operation: Escape

One night, Charles came home and nearly had a heart attack.

“Leo?” he called.

Nothing.

He ran around the apartment. Backyard? Empty. Under the table? Gone. Not even in the laundry basket, which was his usual throne.

Then his phone buzzed.

Y/N: “Look who showed up at my door 🐾😭”

A photo of Leo curled up on her couch like a prince.

Charles stared at the screen. “He escaped.”

He showed up at her door at 1 AM. In the dark. Somehow navigated Monaco like he had GPS.

“I swear this dog memorized your address,” Charles said when he picked Leo up the next day.

Charles glared at Leo. “You’re grounded.”

Leo yawned.

———

The thing was, Charles knew it was coming.

Alexandra wasn’t stupid. She saw it too.

They were having dinner on her balcony, the lights soft, the food untouched, and Leo sleeping a full three feet away like even he wanted distance from the situation.

She was staring at him.

He was staring at the table.

“Can I ask you something?” she said finally.

“Sure.”

“Have you ever been in love with me?”

Charles blinked.

There it was.

He opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Alex smiled. Not sad. Not mad. Just… knowing. ‘Yeah. That’s what I thought.’”

He let out a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She shrugged, poking at her pasta. “I knew before we started. I mean, come on. I’m an art girl, Charles. I read body language like newspapers. You look at your best friend like she hung the stars.”

He swallowed. “We’ve known each other forever.”

“And you’ve been in love with her for just as long.”

Charles ran a hand through his hair. “We never talk about it.”

“Maybe you should.”

A silence fell between them.

Then Alexandra raised her glass. “To not wasting each other’s time.”

He smiled faintly. “To peace.”

They clinked glasses.

And that was that.

No yelling. No fighting. No guilt.

Just quiet understanding.

As they cleared the plates, Alexandra glanced at Leo, still dead asleep on the floor. “You know,” she said, “he’s gonna be thrilled.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“The breakup,” she said. “Leo. He’ll probably throw a party.”

Charles snorted. “He did growl at you for hugging me once.”

Alex laughed. “That little traitor. He’s been shipping you and Y/N since day one.”

Charles rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. As weird as it sounded… she wasn’t wrong.

They hugged goodbye at the door. No drama. No tears. And just like that, it was over.

Alex left with her tote bag slung over her shoulder and her headphones already in, waving once before disappearing down the hallway.

And that was how Charles found himself officially single, standing in a quiet apartment with a half-asleep dog who barely reacted to the breakup.

Leo just blinked up at him from the floor like, Finally.

———

After Charles and Alex broke up, things went weirdly quiet.

No more dinner reservations. No more fake-couple photo dumps. No more Leo trying to wedge himself between Charles and Alex on the couch like a clingy toddler.

Just Charles. And Leo. And the occasional judgmental huff when Charles tried to feed him kibble instead of grilled chicken.

The breakup was mutual. Predictable. Emotionally flat. Charles couldn’t even remember who technically said it first. All he remembered was walking Leo later that night and thinking, “Well. That’s over.”

And then came the weirdest part…Y/N started borrowing Leo. Constantly.

“Oh, can I take Leo to the park?”

“Leo and I are going to get puppuccinos!”

“Do you mind if I bring Leo on a drive? He likes the windows down.”

And every time, Charles said yes. Because it’s Y/N. Because Leo would actually whine at the door if she was late.

But lately… something felt off.

Because every time Leo came back from one of these mysterious little Y/N adventures, he would stand in front of Charles, stare him dead in the eyes, and bark.

Not just a “hello” bark. No, this was aggressive. Personal. Like he was trying to say something. Like he was personally offended by Charles’ existence.

“You okay, buddy?” Charles asked one day, crouching down as Leo barked directly into his soul.

Leo responded by turning around and peeing on Charles’ shoe.

Cool.

———

One Race Weekend Later

Charles was sitting with Max, Lando, George, and Pierre in the hospitality lounge, trying to eat his salad in peace, when Y/N appeared like a sunshine-wrapped grenade.

“Hi!” she smiled, leash in hand. “Returning your son.”

Leo trotted beside her, tail wagging like he’d had the best day ever.

“Oh, thank you,” Charles said, standing up and reaching for the leash. “Did he behave?”

“Of course,” she said sweetly. “Didn’t you, Leo?”

Leo sat down like a good boy. Looked up at Charles. Then immediately stood up on his hind legs and barked. One. Two. Three times. Loud. Sharp. Full-body commitment.

Y/N blinked. “Well, I’ll leave you to it!” she chirped, patting Leo’s head. “Bye, boys!”

She turned on her heel and walked away.

Leo watched her go. Tail still wagging. Love in his eyes.

Then he lost it.

BARK. BARK. BARK. BARK.

Straight at Charles.

Again.

Lando nearly dropped his water bottle.

“Mate,” George said slowly, “I think your dog’s yelling at you.”

Pierre was already doubled over. “No, no. He’s scolding him. Like a parent. You hear that? That’s ‘I raised you better than this’ energy.”

“What could he even be trying to say?” Max asked, half-laughing.

Charles sighed, rubbing his temples. “He always does this when he comes back from Y/N’s. Every time.”

“Maybe he’s saying stop making him spend time with her,” George suggested, shrugging.

“Stop spending time with Y/N?” Lando repeated. “Leo? The same dog who ditched Alex mid-walk just to run into Y/N’s arms? That Leo?”

“The dog who literally adopted Y/N as his real parent?” Pierre added.

“Are we talking about the same Leo?” Max joined in. “The one who escaped Charles’ house at one in the morning, ran three blocks, and rang Y/N’s doorbell with his paw?”

“That wasn’t even a one-time thing,” arthur said. “He did it again two nights later with Charles’ wallet in his mouth. Like he was leaving him.”

Pierre was howling. “Leo said ‘divorce is real.’”

“Guys,” Charles muttered, covering his face with both hands, “he’s just a dog.”

“You mean the dog?” Max said. “The dog that growled at Alex for three straight days and wouldn’t let her sit on the couch?”

“I just think it’s suspicious,” Lando added. “He doesn’t bark like that for anyone else. Only after Y/N drops him off.”

“Okay,” Pierre said, clapping his hands dramatically. “Let’s list the possibilities. Option one: Leo is trying to tell you Y/N’s keeping secrets. Option two: Leo is mad you’re not confessing your feelings. Option three: Leo is a reincarnated therapist and wants you to get your shit together.”

“Option four,” Max said, sipping his water, “he’s just deeply disappointed in you.”

Leo barked again. Loud. One single, dramatic bark.

Everyone went silent.

George pointed slowly. “That sounded personal.”

Lando suddenly gasped. “Wait. You said he only does it after Y/N drops him off, right?”

Charles blinked. “Yeah?”

“Then maybe he’s mad about something they did during the day.”

George nodded seriously. “We need to find out what.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You want to follow Y/N?”

“Yes,” Pierre said instantly, already pulling out a cap like this was Ocean’s Eleven. “We follow her. We watch. We learn. We discover what Charles did to offend the Dog Overlord.”

Charles groaned. “Guys-”

“You’re outvoted,” Lando said. “You’ve been barked at. That makes you biased.”

———

The Next Day: Operation Bush

The mission was a disaster from the start.

For starters, their idea of stealth was laughable. A group of grown men in bucket hats and sunglasses, wearing a chaotic mix of Ferrari and McLaren hoodies. And of course, Max in his Red Bull Against the World. All of them crouched behind a bush across the street from Y/N’s building like that somehow made them invisible.

“She’s coming out!” Lando whisper-yelled.

Y/N stepped out, leash in hand, Leo happily trotting beside her like a kid on summer break. She was wearing sunglasses, humming something under her breath.

“She looks normal,” George whispered.

“Too normal,” Pierre muttered, scribbling something down.

“She’s heading to the park,” Max said, already power-walking to keep up. “Everybody act casual.”

So, of course, they walked in a straight line behind her, all five of them holding identical takeaway cups and pretending to talk to each other like this was a team-building exercise.

She sat on a bench. Leo ran around. She took selfies. Leo chased a leaf. They sat together and watched ducks for 15 full minutes.

“She’s literally just existing,” George said flatly.

“Wait. Wait. She’s leaving,” Lando pointed. “Where now?”

Y/N walked for a bit, Leo trotting beside her, until she turned the corner into a cozy-looking street and entered a small café with fairy lights and plants spilling out of every windowsill.

They all scrambled into a bush across the street.

“She always comes here,” Charles said softly. “It’s her favorite. Says the view’s the best outside.”

They watched as she sat at her usual corner table on the terrace, the one that overlooked the marina. She unhooked Leo’s leash and plopped him into the seat beside her like he was royalty.

“That’s his seat?” George blinked.

“Oh, he’s definitely her son,” Lando whispered.

Suddenly, the owner walked out. Mid-twenties, charming smile, carrying a tiny dessert plate.

“Here you go!” the guy grinned, placing the dessert in front of Y/N. “Your usual. And of course it’s on the house, for my number one fan.”

“HA!” Pierre whispered. “Number one fan?! You heard that right?!”

Y/N laughed. “You’re the best, Marco.”

“Anything for you.” He winked.

“Oh my God, they’re flirting,” George gasped.

“They look like a couple,” Lando added. “This is how rom-coms start.”

Charles was frozen. Silent.

Leo, however? Leo snapped to attention. Sat up in his little chair like a mafia boss. Eyes locked on Marco.

Then it began.

BARK. BARK. BARKBARKBARK.

He tried to stand on two legs, pawing furiously at Marco. Tail stiff. Deeply offended.

“Leo! Not again,” Y/N groaned, holding his collar. “He’s a nice guy! I swear, he’s never like this with anyone else.”

Marco chuckled, adjusting the plate. “It’s fine. He’ll eventually end up loving me. Everyone does.”

The boys collectively gasped from the bush.

“OH MY GOD HE’S CALLING SHOTGUN,” George whisper-screamed.

“HE SAID eventually. As in, he’s sticking around,” Lando added.

“HE’S BASICALLY DECLARING HIS INTENTIONS IN FRONT OF THE DOG,” Pierre shouted in a whisper.

Leo was now practically crawling over Y/N’s lap, trying to wedge himself between her and Marco, paws pushing, tail going wild.

“You’re gonna knock the dessert over. Leo, STOP!”

Charles hadn’t said a word.

———

Twenty Minutes Later: Nearby Restaurant

The team had relocated to a corner restaurant around the block, all huddled in silence around a table, water glasses untouched, menus ignored.

Nobody spoke for a full minute.

Until-

“So that’s why he’s been barking,” George said softly.

“Charles,” Pierre began gently, “even Leo is telling you to make a move.”

“You’ve had years,” Max said. “And a dog figured it out in one café trip.”

“Even a dog can tell other guys to back away from Y/N,” Lando added, “but you? You’re just standing there letting leo fight your battles.”

“He literally tried to commit assault by paw,” Pierre said. “For you.”

Charles sighed. “They were just laughing.”

“They were giggling, Charles. Giggling. Do you know what it means when a girl giggles?!” George shouted.

“Marco said ‘eventually’ like he’s planning the wedding.”

“LEO is fighting for your woman harder than you are!”

“Hold on. Are we saying Leo’s the main character now?”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Charles wasn’t even pretending to be chill anymore.

He stood at the front door, arms crossed, pacing like he was about to meet the principal. Behind him, the living room was full of chaos.

Pierre was sprawled dramatically across the couch. George was holding Leo’s favorite toy like a support item. Max and Lando were eating snacks like they were watching a pay-per-view event.

“I thought you guys were going home,” Charles muttered, glancing back.

“We are,” Max said, mouth full. “After Leo returns.”

“Yeah,” George added. “Can’t miss the bark show.”

“This is messed up,” Charles muttered.

“This is science,” Pierre corrected. “We’re studying the phenomenon of Bark Communication.”

And then, the doorbell rang.

Everyone sat up straighter like trained dogs themselves.

Charles nearly tripped over his own feet getting to the door. He flung it open, smiling too fast.

“Hi!” he said, a little too eagerly.

“Hi, Y/N,” George, Pierre, Lando, Arthur, and Max called from the couch like a chorus of nosy aunties.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, hi…?”

Charles ignored the chaos behind him. “Had a good day? Where did you go? Who did you meet?”

Y/N squinted at him suspiciously. “Just the park. A cafe. You know…around.”

Charles leaned slightly forward. “Who did you meet?”

“Oh, just… someone,” she said vaguely, bending down to unclip Leo’s leash. “Here’s your baby back.”

Leo padded into the apartment like a prince returning from war.

“Thanks for letting him spend the day with me,” Y/N said, smiling as she straightened up. “Makes the start and end of my day so much brighter.”

Charles blinked.

George mouthed bro you’re done for.

Pierre audibly sighed like he was watching a romance movie.

“See you guys,” Y/N waved, completely unaware of the crowd watching her.

“Bye!” Charles said quickly.

“Bye Y/N!”

“See you again soon!”

“Say hi to Mar-!”

Charles slammed the door.

Leo trotted into the kitchen for a dramatic slurp of water like a man who had experienced too much.

The boys already buzzing.

“Oh oh,” Lando said, pointing as Leo walked into the living room. “It’s scolding time.”

Sure enough, Leo marched right up to Charles. Planted his feet. Looked him dead in the eye.

And barked.

Loud.

Three times.

“Here we go,” George grinned. “Translation: you absolute moron.”

“Are you mad at me, Leo?” Charles asked, eyebrows raised.

BARK.

“That’s a yes,” Pierre said, nodding solemnly.

“Is it because you don’t like guys being all over Y/N?” Charles continued.

Leo let out a growly bark and gave what definitely looked like a head nod.

Charles blinked. “Well… I also didn’t like that.”

“Then why don’t you bark at him too?” Max said dryly. “Start a turf war.”

“Bring Leo for backup,” Lando added. “Two dogs, one girl, one love story.”

“This is ridiculous,” Charles muttered.

“No, this is destiny,” Pierre corrected.

Charles looked at Leo, who was now wagging his tail like mad, practically vibrating.

“Okay,” Charles said softly. “I’m going to talk to Y/N. About everything.”

Leo’s tail kicked into overdrive. He circled Charles like a little tornado of golden fluff. Let out a high-pitched happy bark and practically jumped onto the couch in victory.

Everyone stared.

George whispered, “Did… did Leo just do a happy dance?”

“He did,” Max said. “That was definitely a happy dance.”

“Even the dog is celebrating and you haven’t even confessed yet,” Pierre pointed out. “Imagine how much tail wagging we’ll get when you kiss her.”

“I’m telling you,” Lando said with his mouth full of popcorn. “Leo’s not a dog. He’s a wingman. And he’s doing God’s work.”

“Better than Charles is,” George added.

Leo barked in agreement.

———

The next morning, Y/N was already at Charles’ place with Leo when he casually walked over, trying not to look like he’d rehearsed this four times in the mirror.

“Hey,” he said, voice too casual. “Can I tag along today?”

Y/N looked up from where she was adjusting Leo’s collar. “With me and Leo?”

“Yeah. Just… you know, hang out. Go wherever you two usually go.”

She smiled. “Sure. You’re the owner. You’re allowed to see your dog.”

Charles grinned. Leo wagged his tail like he knew.

Later That Day…

It was honestly… nice. Strolling through the park, walking along the promenade, stopping by the market where Y/N bought Leo a cookie and Charles a lemonade “because you’re always dehydrated, idiot.”

Charles was floating. Leo was smiling. Even the pigeons weren’t annoying today.

But then. Then came the café.

Y/N’s café.

The Café of Flirtageddon.

They sat at her usual table outside. Leo was curled up at her feet, the sun was shining, the breeze was light. Then Charles suddenly started scanning the area like a man on a mission.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, amused.

“Nothing,” he muttered, frowning at the door like it had personally offended him.

Enter: Marco. The friendly cafe owner. Carrying Y/N’s favorite dessert with a practiced hand and a charming smile.

“Here you go,” Marco said, setting the plate down. “Same as always. Best customer gets the best treatment, huh?”

Charles’ eyes narrowed.

Y/N smiled. “Thank you, Marco.”

Marco leaned on the table slightly. “You know, I added extra caramel today. Thought of you when I made it.”

“Oh, it looks amazing-”

“Actually,” Charles cut in, loudly, “Y/N can’t eat too much sugar. She’ll get a headache.”

Y/N blinked. “Charles, what—”

“Also, we’re gonna walk Leo after this. Sugar and walking, not the best combo, right?” he added, folding his arms.

Marco looked confused. “Uh. Right. Well… enjoy!”

He left with an awkward smile, and Y/N slowly turned her head.

“Charles,” she said, grinning. “What was that?”

“What?” he asked, pretending innocence. “Just looking out for your health.”

She laughed but said nothing else.

Charles did not notice the idiots sitting behind a hedge across the street, disguised once again in hoodies and sunglasses.

“Bro,” Pierre wheezed, recording the whole thing. “He interrupted every sentence. Like... every Single. One.

“Marco didn’t even get to blink without Charles breathing down his neck,” Lando added.

George cackled. “Oh my god. Side-by-side video. Leo vs Charles. Interrupting Bros.”

Max just snorted. “Looks like we know where Leo got it from.”

They filmed everything. Charles footage. Charles turning red. Marco fleeing.

Iconic.

———

Back at the Table

Y/N was giggling to herself.

“What?” Charles asked, confused but suspicious.

Y/N pointed at him. “Now I know where Leo gets it from.”

“Gets what?”

“That.” She laughed. “Interrupting my conversations when I’m talking to guys.”

Charles blinked. “I don’t do that.”

“You literally did it ten minutes ago.”

Charles tried to change the subject, flustered. “What do you mean Leo does it? Like… how often?”

Y/N picked at her dessert. “Well, at first I thought he just didn’t like strangers. But I noticed he’s only like that when I’m with guys. Even with your brother Arthur. He started guarding me like a jealous boyfriend.”

She laughed again, clearly joking.

But Charles didn’t.

He went quiet. Rubbed the back of his neck. Cheeks turning very, very red.

“Yeah. I guess he got it from me.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Charles looked down. “I mean… I always interrupt. I get mad. I get jealous. Because I-because I’ve been in love with you. For a long time.”

Y/N froze.

Charles rushed on, nervous. “I get it if you don’t feel the same. I just… Leo clearly sees it, and I thought maybe…”

Y/N cut him off.

“I feel it.”

Charles stopped. Looked up.

“What?”

Y/N smiled softly. “I feel it, Charles. I’ve felt it for a long time. I literally told you the other day.”

He blinked. “You… what? When?”

(Flashback)

Y/N handing Leo back at the door, grinning.

“Thank you for letting him spend the day with me. Makes the start and end of my day brighter.”

She had looked right at him when she said it.

Not Leo.

Him.

(END)

Charles’s eyes widened. “That was about me?”

Y/N nodded.

Charles laughed, completely overwhelmed, before pulling her into a tight hug. “I am Stupid, I am stupid”

“You are,” she mumbled into his shirt.

Leo barked, circling them happily before wedging himself right between them like the chaos king he is.

“Of course,” Charles muttered, laughing. “He wants in too.”

———

Later That Night…

Charles was curled up on the couch with Y/N, her head tucked under his chin, his arms around her. Leo was squished between them like the furry bridge that started it all.

Suddenly, Y/N’s phone pinged.

It was a message from Pierre.

Video attachment: 🐶🐶 “WHO DID IT BETTER?”

The video had two side-by-side panels.

On the left: Leo interrupting Marco.

On the right: Charles interrupting Marco.

Same energy. Same timing. Same dramatic expression. Even the tail wag (in Charles’ case, it’s obviously metaphorical).

Y/N burst out laughing, ruffling Charles’s hair.

“What?” he mumbled into her neck.

She showed him the video.

He groaned. “I hate all of them.”

“They’re your best men at the wedding,” she said immediately.

Charles blinked. “Wedding?”

She smirked. “Manifesting.”

Leo barked once, very confidently.

Charles kissed her temple and sighed. “Unbelievable.”

Leo wagged his tail.

The matchmaking was complete.

END.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

1K notes · View notes

racingrich · 2 days ago

Text

fresh peaches 🏁 op81

summary: you’re figuring out how to balance a farm and a growing relationship with an f1 driver, and he’s learning the hidden languages of flowers. it’s soft, it’s gentle, and it’s yours.

thank you everyone for your love on too many oranges! i posted it on a whim and it kinda blew up so thank you so much! i think i’ll make it a small series of stories that aren’t technically tied together but in the same universe. so this can be read as a standalone, or coupled with too many oranges! and thank you again, for all the love on the first part!

⋆.⋆✴︎˚｡ 🧡 ₊˚✧

lovelyleclerc life lately 💛

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, yourbff, and 7.5k others

view 126 comments …

charles_leclerc 💬 TWO PLACE SETTINGS?!

charles_leclerc 💬 ANSWER MY CALLS

maxverstappen1 💬 Those two cats are new.

⤷ lovelyleclerc they belong to one of my neighbours but they come by to say hi 🥹

oscarpiastri 💬 Can I get some peaches on your next delivery, please?

⤷ lovelyleclerc bc you asked nicely, yes ☺️

⤷ oscarpiastri 🧡

⤷ charles_leclerc what is this now

yourbff 💬 living the dream, come see me in lille again soon i miss you 🫶🏼🫶🏼

⤷ lovelyleclerc booking tickets as we speak 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

⋆.⋆✴︎˚｡ 🧡 ₊˚✧

He didn’t drive out when he visited you, he took the train. The arduous ride from Monaco to the middle of nowhere, in a language he didn’t understand, because you’d asked him not to drive. He could’ve said no, you both knew that. But, some part of him, the part that valued the last few weeks of gentle silence, interrupted by the sound of cows and gentle breezes, knew how sacred this had become. How this house had become something more over the last few weeks. Something like a home, not just a place he visited. It had been a month since you’d invited him back the first time. A month since you’d assigned him a random mug with a chip in the rim, and he’d refused to use another. A month since he memorized the names of all your animals. A month since you’d invited him in, and he’d accepted.

The race weekend was coming up. He had another day with you before he’d be flying out to the next track, chasing the next thrill. You’d told him not to come out, that he’d be rushing to get to airport the next day, but he didn’t listen. He was well-behaved, understanding you were always right, but not this time. He refused. In a gentle way, like everything he did.

“I’d rather rush than be alone,” he’d whispered to you when he’d arrived. You’d hugged him tightly, even though you’d seen him less than a week ago. Any time apart from him felt too long. Distance became something you cursed, not craved. You’d never leave your farm, and he’d never leave Monaco. So, distance was what you had. Hours apart, watching the same sunset, sending pictures of the same waves, just to check in.

In your kitchen, he looked like a vision. Like something a prophet saw in a haze-induced delirium. Faded Monaco shirt, apron securely tied around his waist as he worked on sautéing onions. Something so mundane, yet heartwarming. Rain kissed the ends of your bangs as you came in from harvesting tomatoes and onions. Oscar turned to look up at you as you stumbled inside, rain coat hanging neglected by the door.

“Need a towel?” He asked, because he knew where you kept them. He’d even brought some McLaren issued ones to add to your odd collection. Another piece of him that had ended up in your life that you didn’t have the heart to part with. Not when it fit so effortlessly into the gaps of your existence. Like he’d always been meant to be there. That was a concept you couldn’t ponder yet. Not when this, whatever it was you had, was fresh.

“If you’re able to multitask, I’d love one.” You shook your hair out, letting water hit your wood floors. Your clothes were all but soaked through.

“You underestimate me,” Oscar called as he walked into the small hallway between your kitchen and bedroom to grab a towel.

“Do I? The last time I distracted you while cooking, you almost set the pasta on fire.”

“That was one time!” He protested.

“One time is more than enough, actually.” He came around the corner with one of his fancy McLaren towels. You always hid them in the back of the cupboard because they clashed with your aesthetic. He’d dig through your ratty ones with crumbling seams for effortless comfort. You offered him a smiled as you placed the towel over your head.

“You look like a grandmother,” he commented. You didn’t hesitate to punch his side.

“Go watch your onions, asshole,” you chided. Oscar chuckled and backed away from you, back to the kitchen. You watched him as he left, because you couldn’t not watch him. Not when he was so pleasing to look at. Especially when he was immersed in something. Cooking, milking your cows, watering plants, and everything else that was too small to name.

It was strange, how much a month could change a life. It hadn’t been long, in the eyes of the universe. But it felt like everything. An entire life, wrapped up in 31 short days. He’d breathed life into these walls, and you’d blinked, and suddenly he was everywhere. Your phone wallpaper, always a photo of your ducks, had become him. When had that happened? You weren’t sure. Probably last week, when he’d surprised you with a tandem bike trip to the nearest reasonably sized town to search for more sheets and tablecloths to turn into summer dresses.

You moved past him, stopping to kiss his cheek as you moved into your room. Outside, the rain protested an early evening. Your window, cracked open, was gathering small puddles. The air smelled damp, clean and free of pollen. A smell you wanted to surround you like a blanket. You changed quickly, the smell of the simmering sauce becoming too much to bear.

Oscar was waiting for you, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. When you sauntered over, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“So?” He asked. “Am I meeting your standards?” He meant for cooking, you both knew that. But his eyes glimmered with unspoken meanings. Am I a good almost boyfriend?

He hasn’t made the next step yet, and you were okay being where you were. Something so new didn’t need a label, especially when you were still getting to know each other in the most simple ways.

You dipped your pinky into the vodka sauce he’d been tasked to watch. You pondered the flavours. Ones you’d selected, of course, but ones he’d added.

“It could use more bay leaves,” you spoke at last. “The ones hanging above the sink, next to the lavender.” You pointed.

“Of course, how could I be so silly?” Oscar chuckled as he grabbed two more leaves and tossed them in. You stirred the sauce, added some salt, oil, and a splash of sugar. You dipped your other pinky into, repeated the test.

“Better,” you hummed. Oscar’s shoulders deflated.

“You didn’t let me fix it,” he complained. Which was something most F1 fans didn’t know Oscar Piastri was capable of. Something so outlandishly strange. But, something you’d become accustomed to.

“Because I didn’t know what it needed.”

“What does that even mean?” He asked.

“I just follow my gut, I can’t explain it!” He shook his head in mock disappointment. Or something akin to it. Not that he could ever be disappointed with you, not in any way that felt close to true.

“Oh, yes, this chef’s instinct I’ve read about,” Oscar teased. “In the ancient texts.” He was mocking you, something he did often. Not enough to hurt feelings, just to get you to laugh. Which you always did. He made you laugh like none other.

“Not my fault you need to measure a pinch,” you retorted as you bumped him out of the way with your hip.

“How much is a pinch? There has to be a standard measurement.” Oscar hopped up on the counter, letting his legs hit your faded cabinets as he spoke.

“It’s just a pinch. It writes itself.”

“But it makes no sense! Everyone’s pinch is different, so it’s inconsistent.”

“But that’s what makes each dish unique,” you reminded him. Oscar could cook, enough to pass by. But he followed recipes like they were the Bible. He’d been appalled with your measure with your heart method of cooking. The one that ran on feelings from the Leclercs before you knowing when to stop seasoning. “What we value in food is different, so each person makes a dish differently.” Oscar groaned and leaned his head back against your mug cabinet.

“You are so attractive when you talk about food, it’s unfair.” You turned your head away from him, fighting your smile.

“Yeah, I’m the unfair one. Your job is to sit and look pretty while I do the heavy lifting.”

“But I do my job well,” he remarked. You leaned over to kiss his cheek. He leaned into it, like he always did.

“You do,” you whispered. His cheeks flushed, like they always did when you looked at him too long.

The timer on his phone went off, signalling the beginning of dinner.

He pretended to complain about your additions, but you saw how his face lit up with every bite. And that was enough. He was enough.

oscarpoastri posted a story

not bad for my first time!

⤷ lovelyleclerc you did so well! 🫶🏼

⤷ oscarpiastri because I had the best teacher 🫶🏼

⤷ lando mate i’m jealous 😒

⤷ charles_leclerc are you at ducky’s house?? i recognize that plate

lovelyleclerc better with two 🫶🏼

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, lando, and 4.7k others

view 96 comments

charles_leclerc 💬 WHO IS THAT DUCKY PLEASE

⤷ lovelyleclerc someone 🤭

⤷ charles_leclerc you’re terrible and i hate you.

⤷ lovelyleclerc i’ll tell you one day, bub, i just want something that’s mine for a little.

⤷ charles_leclerc I can’t argue with that god damn it.

lando 💬 ayo not the soft launch??

oscarpiastri 💬 Hello Tofu

⤷ lovelyleclerc he says 👋🏻👋🏻

⤷ charles_leclerc Oscar gets a tofu greeting but not me?? your brother?? who you share blood with??

⤷ lovelyleclerc tofu picks faves i’m sorry

⤷ oscarpiastri I am winning

⋆.⋆✴︎˚｡ 🧡 ₊˚✧

“Do you have to go?” You asked when the sun started peaking through your curtains. Oscar, already well awake, nodded gently.

“I do, darling,” he whispered. His voice was thick with sleep, just the way you liked it. “Trust me, if I had a choice, I’d choose here every time.” You knew he had a race to win. Him and your brother both. Race weekends used to be easy, a simple goodbye and then your brother would vanish for three days. But, now with Oscar, that meant losing someone who always listened, who always meant something. And that was starting to hurt.

“You could call in sick,” you muttered as you moved closer. You could feel him laugh.

“I can’t call in sick to a race, darling.”

“You could, you just won’t.”

“You’re right, as always,” he mused. He was rubbing your back in gentle circles. Ones that coincided with the steady thrum of your heart. “But I’ll be back soon, yeah? You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Bullshit,” you grumbled. “I always notice.” You noticed when his laughter vanished, when videos of his past races weren’t playing while you strolled and picked fruit from your overflowing trees. You noticed everything.

“That’s incredibly romantic,” Oscar mused. “But I know you’ll be okay, because I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“No, I’ll just pretend.” You both chuckled at that. Silence settled over you as you grabbed his sleep shirt tightly in your hands.

“You make it hard,” Oscar mumbled.

“Hard to what?”

“Leave.” Your heart flipped in your chest at that. Just like it always did when he said something romantic. Something that made your insides turn to goo. Which was at least twice a day, sometimes even more.

“You’ll be back?” You asked.

“I won’t even stop at my apartment first,” he promised. “I’ll just come right here.”

That was as close to I love you as you both allowed yourselves.

lovelyleclerc golden hour

liked by yourbff, oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri, and 11.7k others

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yourbff 💬 HOLY CRAP GODDESS BEHAVIOUR

⤷ lovelyleclerc says you 🫶🏼🫶🏼

lilymhe 💬 your face card >>

⤷ lovelyleclerc oh hush you gorgeous girl

user 💬 holy shit this is Charles’ sister?? BARK BARK BARK

⤷ charles_leclerc someone should put you down

⤷ lovelyleclerc CHARLES OH MY GOD??

user2 💬 i know you’re seeing someone but can they fight??

⤷ lovelyleclerc he’d beat you tf up sadly

⤷ user2 SADLY I CANT

pierregasly 💬 so you took my curly hair advice seriously huh?

⤷ lovelyleclerc for someone with a rapidly deteriorating hairline, you give great hair care tips.

⤷ user3 THE WAY THEY CLOCKED HIM SO FAST??

⤷ kikagomes the way I spat my drink everywhere

maxverstappen1 💬 I remember when you walked around missing your front teeth now look at you!

⤷ lovelyleclerc MAX WHAT DID WE TALK ABOUT? WE DON’T DISCUSS THAT!

⤷ oscarpiastri Do you have proof?

⤷ maxverstappen1 Yeah, check your WhatsApp

⤷ lovelyleclerc MAX NO!

oscarpiastri 5th isn’t too bad, nice racing!

liked by lovelyleclerc, f1, mclaren, lando, and 168.6k others

view 2.8k comments

lando 💬 great job, mate!

mclaren 💬 we can smell a podium in your future 👀

⤷ oscarpiastri Manifest it.

⤷ user did … Oscar Piastri just say “manifest that shit”? What happened to him???

⤷ user2 he really said “it’s in god’s hands”

lovelyleclerc 💬 you and lando posing aw

❤️ by author

⤷ user3 omg Oscar liked??

mclaren 💬 our favourite duo 😍

⤷ user4 so true admin, ur just like us fr

user5 💬 did anyone else see how Oscar almost mentioned his partner in that post race interview?? I cannot be tripping

⤷ user6 OMG IM NOT ALONE!!

⋆.⋆✴︎˚｡ 🧡 ₊˚✧

my osc 🫶🏼

Hey darling, did you watch the race?

you

you bet!! stood on the top of a hill for the best service 😤

my osc 🫶🏼

That’s the dedication I like to see

I’m boarding soon, be there in 12 hours!

you

can’t wait actually 🫶🏼

my osc 🫶🏼

🫶🏼🫶🏼

⋆.⋆✴︎˚｡ 🧡 ₊˚✧

He arrived in the early hours of the morning. When the sun had barely kissed the edge of the rolling hills. He used the spare key you’d texted him about before you’d fallen asleep. When he moved through your house, he saw the sign you’d made. The words WELCOME BACK greeted him in lopsided cursive that made him smile.

You were huddled in your blankets when he came into your bedroom, a vision of angelic sleep.

He was feeling the jet lag now, he’d gone across the world for two days, then came back just as fast. It was hitting him, how tired he was. And even though his apartment was easier to get to, he made the trek. Because he’d made you a promise. And going back to his modern apartment felt like something from the past. Not when he had you to come back to.

Was one month too early to say that he loved you?

You moved when he set his weight on the free side of the bed. You turned over to look at him, sleep still in your eyes.

“Osc?” Your voice croaked.

“Hi,” he replied. You turned into him with everything you had, and he welcomed you.

“You smell like stranger’s BO,” you commented, your face stuffed into his shirt. Oscar chuckled.

“I came right from the airport.”

“I thought you were kidding,” you teased.

“I don’t think I could stay away even if I tried.” You giggled into his sweaty shirt.

“There’s something about male desperation that’s so hot.”

“Yeah, yeah, move over? I’m falling off the bed.” You did, because having him close was better than anything else in the world.

One month could change your life, and Oscar was starting to change yours.

#f1 x reader #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 x you

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