summary: it's the 2025 monaco grand prix and yn leclerc finds out that oscar piastri is... an avid lorde fan???
yn.leclerc
liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, yourbff001, and 743,023 others
yn.leclerc she's in monaco ladies and gents! arthur can say he's not monegasque, but charlie and i know what's up :)
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user1 GUYS SHE'S GOING TO THE MONACO GRAND PRIX!!!!
user2 omg yn where have you been girl!
lando bro said she wasn't getting here 'til saturday smh
user3 LMAO she lied to lando 💀
yn.leclerc sybau and go kiss carlos or smth
carlossainz55 she's right lando, come home, the kids miss you
lando the meerkat?
charles_leclerc je ne veux pas que tu cries dans ma radio (i don't want you yelling in my radio)
yn.leclerc speak english 🤓
alexandrasaintmleux my favorite leclerc 💞 you look gorgeous
yn.leclerc ok stop talking to the mirror tf? ily
charles_leclerc share the love????
oscarpiastri photo creds???
user4 STOPPPP oscar sounds like a needy girlfriend
user5 have we ever even seen them speak
user1 no, she's taken (by me)
kimi.antonelli no, by me 🙃
yn.leclerc ANDREA KIMI GO DO YOUR HOMEWORK!
emmawatson beatiful!!!! liked by author
jackbenedwards lorde summer liked by author
charles_leclerc
liked by yn.leclerc, alexalbon, georgerussel63, and 1,203,923 others
charles_leclerc P2 in qualifiers. Not the result we wanted but we'll keep pushing. Forza Ferrari!
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yn.leclerc what was that? well, baby, what was that?
charles_leclerc don't call me baby creepo 😰
user6 i fear yn IS living lorde summer, jack edwards was so rights
oscarpiastri mdma in the back garden, blow our pupils up
yn.leclerc OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!!!! you're not coming to play, sir
user7 no way oscar is a lorde fan
user8 he def looked it up to impress yn 😭
arthur_leclerc i could've gotten p1 🤷
charles_leclerc the things i could say to you right now
pierregasly bro is lucky charles is pr trained
yn.leclerc pr? he hardly knows her
lando that made no sense
yn.leclerc your existence makes no sense kys
maxverstappen1 le curse is back
charles_leclerc BLOCKED ❌
oscarpiastri
liked by yn.leclerc, hattiepiastri, lando and 1,002,497 others
oscarpiastri Good start to the weekend. Excited for the race tomorrow. Thank you for the support!
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hattiepiastri you win at monaco or you're disowned
oscarpiastri only mum can do that?
nicolepiastri what hattie said
user9 HELPPPPPPPPP
charles_leclerc know your place tomorrow, son
oscarpiastri i can't lose my leo privileges
lando i look stupid
estebanocon tell us something new!!!
yn.leclerc wishing you luck! playing for a lot this weekend!
charles_leclerc 🤨
arthur_leclerc 🤨
user10 🤨
yukitsunoda 🤨
oscarpiastri You being here for Charles helped him last year. Maybe come to my garage and share that luck?
user11 oh he's good
charles_leclerc im boycotting you bitch
maxverstappen1 whole lot of lando...
deuxmoi posted a story!
deuxmoi Yn Leclerc has shown up to the 2025 Monaco Grand Prix wearing a McLaren dress and is currently in Oscar Piastri's garage
yn.leclerc
liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, charlixcx, and 813,200,191 others
yn.leclerc CONGRATS TO MY BIG BROTHER ON P2 AT MONACO! it's always gonna be your city charlie!!! on a sadder note, i will never be speaking to lando norris again, evil bitch :) and i got this oceanic feeling visiting someone's garage (sorry, i'm still a scuderia ferrari girlie)
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ferrari we missed youuu liked by author
charles_leclerc monaco and my own sister betrayed me today
lewishamilton i'll be a shoulder to cry on mate
yn.leclerc hoes over bros
oscarpiastri excuse me
user12 IM FUCKING CRASHING OUT I CANT BREATH
user13 i can feel the hardlaunch, it's within reach
lando 😔
yn.leclerc pensive face emoji? hon, you should be WEEPING
user14 tell him, yn
oscarpiastri i caught that reference ms leclerc
yn.leclerc didn't throw it mr piastri
mclaren so glad to have you!
ferrari go away, your colors wash her out
francocolapinto um she should be in pink and blue and white and other alpine colors
alexalbon aesthetic!
yn.leclerc can you pay for my dinner as well as george's?
Mi nombre es Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, y si hoy estoy aquí en el Super Bowl 60, es porque nunca, nunca dejé de creer en mí. Tú también deberías de creer en ti. Vales más de lo que piensas. Confía en mí.
I just know that somehwere in Monaco there's a 24 year old australian dude kicking his legs and giggling over charles leclerc saying he'd rely on him the most to pick up the phone
CHOSCAR IS NO LONGER ONE-SIDED BIG NEWS FOR THE UNEMPLOYED
summary: the iceman didn't think love was in the cards this summer, but he's proven wrong when it walks right onto his yacht, the iceman.
a/n: monaco 2006 you will always be famous xx
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
You had precisely three things on your summer checklist (well, it was only May, but these things were a technicality):
Get a tan.
Find your sea legs.
Avoid boring men in polo shirts.
So when you sashayed down the Monaco marina in your oversized sunglasses and silk scarf blowing dramatically in the sea breeze, you were convinced life was going exactly to plan. Until it wasn't. Because, apparently, you got on the wrong yacht.
"I don't remember hiring a crew," a voice said, low and unimpressed, behind you.
You turned around from where you were sprawled dramatically across the cushioned sunbed, sipping sparkling water and admiring your own pedicure.
And there he was: tall, sun-drenched, and scowling at you like you'd committed a federal crime instead of simply boarding what you thought was your family's boat.
"You're not wearing shoes," you pointed out, lifting your sunglasses just enough to glare at him properly.
"You're not supposed to be here," he replied coolly.
"I'm always supposed to be wherever I am," you said, standing now, a little flustered, a little thrilled. Who was this little boy? Well, not boy. He was certainly a man in his own right. But he shouldn't be talking back to you! "This is my yacht."
He crossed his arms, a small smirk playing on his lips. "That so?"
You blinked, looked around at the deck, at the gleaming chrome railing, at the Finnish flag. Oh. It might've slipped your mind.
"…this isn't the Phoenix, is it?"
"No. It's the Iceman," he said. "And you're on it."
You stared at him, then down at the deck, then back at him. "Okay. So, maybe I got a little lost."
"You 'got lost' onto a private yacht?"
"Maybe I got excited about getting back onto a white boat. It's hot. I was thirsty. Don't people trespass all the time in Monaco?"
"No."
You smiled at him, batting your lashes just a little. "Are you always this fun at parties? Who's paying for the yacht, pretty boy? Is it your daddy?"
"Yes," he said. And to your second question, "me. I race cars."
You blinked and looked him up and down, mostly with the purpose of figuring out who this racecar driver was, but also because he was a little attractive. Not Schumacher. Okay, that was it. What other blonde F1 driver did you know? Finnish...you scoured your mind and found two!
"Wait. You're either Mika or Kimi."
“Mika's retired."
"So you're Kimi."
"You say that like you expected me to be taller."
"Well, you probably seem taller in the tabloids. They don't want broody strangers."
"I'm not brooding," Kimi said flatly. "I just don't like strangers on my boat."
"Well then," you said, brushing imaginary lint off your dress and walking--gracefully, thank you very much--past him, "maybe you should have locked the door, Iceman."
You paused at the top of the plank, looking back at him. "Thanks for the drink. Even if it was technically theft."
He didn't say anything until you were almost gone, and he called out, "Next time you want a tan, ask first."
You turned around, eyes wide. "Next time?"
He--Kimi--shrugged, already walking inside. "You know where to find me now."
Your heart did an extremely uncool little flip.
And you added:
4. Come back to the Iceman.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
You did not come back on purpose.
Okay, maybe you did. But only a little. It was your friend's idea. Sort of. She said you should "accidentally" walk by his boat again just to "see if he's real" and not a "fever dream with cheekbones."
Also, you wore the pretty white cover-up. Not for him. It was for the, uh, aesthetic.
You had every intention of walking right past the Iceman this time. A quick stroll down the dock, head held high, pretending like you weren't thinking about the man who didn't smile but made your heart do aerial stunts.
And yet.
"There's no way this is accidental," came the now-familiar voice from the deck.
You froze mid-step, toe hovering over the dock, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of your nose. "Excuse me?"
Kimi was shirtless this time. Unfairly so. He had one hand on the railing, the other holding a half-eaten nectarine like this was a Botticelli painting, and not your life.
"You're back," he said, as if that was the entire sentence. Clearly, he was a man of few words.
You huffed. "Don't flatter yourself. Maybe I'm scouting yachts. Maybe I have options."
He raised an eyebrow. "Girls with options don't wear lip gloss and look lost."
"I'm not lost," you insisted.
"You always say that when you’re lost."
You crossed your arms. "Okay, not always. It's the second time. And what are you doing? Standing there like a Bond villain, eating fruit and judging tourists?"
"I like fruit," Kimi said. "And I don't like tourists."
You stared at him.
He stared back.
And then--then--the corner of his mouth tilted. Just the tiniest bit. A smirk, barely there, like he wasn't sure if he was going to find you funny yet.
"I have champagne," he said casually.
You blinked. "Are you bribing me to stay?"
"Maybe."
"Is it cold?"
"Of course."
"And are there snacks?"
"There can be."
You paused for dramatic effect, then turned back toward the yacht, walking up like it was the Queen's invitation. "Fine. But only because my heels hurt and you're marginally less rude than the sun."
"You're not wearing heels."
"Don't ruin the moment, Kimi."
He handed you a glass of champagne and your fingers brushed, just barely.
You sat, legs stretched out, toes pointing toward the sea. He leaned against the rail again, watching you. He wasn't staring, just looking?
"So," you said eventually, swirling the glass, "do you offer all your trespassers drinks? Or am I special?"
He looked at you so intently you almost forgot how to breathe. "You're the first one who came back."
Your heart? Gone. Floating somewhere between the Mediterranean and Monaco's skyline.
"Oh," you said quietly, smiling into your glass. "Well. Good thing I like fruit."
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The plan was simple: one drink, maybe a quick dip, then you'd float off back to reality before things got complicated. But the weather didn't care about your plans. And neither, apparently, did Kimi.
You were mid-laugh, ankles swinging off the side of the yacht, when thunder rumbled low in the distance. You glanced up from your glass.
"Was that--"
"Storm's coming," Kimi said from behind you, hands in his pockets, hair ruffled from the sea breeze. God, you wanted to run your hands through it too. Never thought you'd be envying nature.
You raised an eyebrow. "And you were going to tell me this when?"
"I thought you liked surprises."
"I like presents, Kimi. Not atmospheric threats."
But the sky was already turning dramatic--clouds rolling in with a moody kind of poetry that would’ve been beautiful if it didn't mean your tiny white dress was about to become a very damp, very clingy problem.
"We should get back to shore," you said, slipping off your sunglasses.
He glanced toward the dock, then back to you. "Too late."
Sure enough, the rain started--slow at first, then all at once. Warm, chaotic, soaking you in seconds. You shrieked, holding your arms out like you could stop it with sheer annoyance.
"Great," you muttered. "I'm going to look like a drowned heiress."
Kimi just watched you, completely unfazed, rain dripping off his brow like he was made of stone. A slightly amused, highly attractive stone.
"You could've warned me sooner," you said, pushing wet hair off your face.
"You were busy talking about horoscopes and olives."
"I was being charming."
He tilted his head. "You were being loud."
You squinted at him. "Do you even like me, or are you just too polite to throw me off the boat?"
He didn't answer right away. He only stepped forward until you were almost toe-to-toe, rain pattering around you like applause.
"I don't usually like people," Kimi said. "But you're strange."
"Wow," you deadpanned. "Romantic."
He smirked. "It's not a no."
Before you could respond--because you absolutely had a witty comeback brewing--thunder cracked again. This time, closer.
He jerked his head toward the cabin. "Inside. Come on."
And that's how you ended up dripping and barefoot in the cozy cabin of a multimillion-dollar yacht that wasn't yours, wearing his hoodie (gray, soft, slightly too big) and sipping something warm he wordlessly handed you.
You glanced at the rain still lashing the windows. "Sooo, you're telling me I'm stranded?"
He nodded. "Well. If you really wanted to, no. But if it doesn't matter that much, yes, you are stranded for the night."
You tried to play it cool, because fuck if you wanted it. "Is this where you tell me there's only one bed?"
Silence.
You blinked. "Wait. Is there actually--"
"There’s a couch," he said, poker-faced. "But I'm not offering it."
You nearly choked on your drink. "Are you flirting with me, Kimi Räikkönen?"
"Maybe."
You stared, then smiled, then whispered, "Took you long enough."
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The storm had no intention of stopping.
You stood in the little cabin barefoot, hair wet, legs cold, staring out the porthole like you could will the rain to let up. It didn't. It just pressed harder against the glass, wind whistling like some moody movie score.
"Bed's made," Kimi said behind you.
You turned. He was leaning in the doorway, towel-drying his hair with one hand, wearing a plain black shirt and grey sweatpants like he hadn't just walked out of a lifestyle magazine shoot.
"Thanks," you said, voice small. "I can take the couch."
He gave you a look. Just one of those slow, unreadable ones. "There's no point pretending. It's raining sideways. Just take the bed."
"And where are you sleeping?" you asked, not quite teasing.
His mouth twitched. "Also the bed."
"Fine. But no funny business."
He raised an eyebrow, totally unimpressed. "You snore."
"I do not!"
"You don't know what you do in your sleep."
You huffed, climbing into bed with dramatic flair, turning your back to him. "You're incredibly rude for someone offering me shelter."
"You could leave, you know. I'm sure you could find someone willing, if you family owns a yacht. You're also incredibly dramatic for someone stealing my hoodie."
You rolled over just to stick your tongue out at him and caught him smiling.
When the lights flickered again, you both froze.
And then--almost instinctively--he slid into the other side of the bed. The mattress dipped with his weight. He didn't touch you. Not even close.
You stared up at the ceiling. "This is weird, right?"
“No.”
You turned your head toward him. He was lying flat, arms folded behind his head, eyes on the ceiling too. He was very pretty, you admit, with his long lashes fluttering lazily. You asked, "you don't think this is a little bit emotionally loaded for two people who met via trespassing?"
"You weren't trespassing," Kimi said calmly.
You blinked. "I wasn't?"
"You just got confused."
Now, he had you smiling in the dark.
"I like your boat."
"I know."
"And I like that you let me stay."
His voice was barely there. "I like that you came back."
There was a silence after that.
Eventually, your eyes got heavy. You turned on your side, facing away from him, but not all the way to the edge.
Then you felt it--the brush of his fingers, careful and slow, against your hand.
You didn't say anything. You just let your hand fall back into his and he held it. He didn't grasp tightly, like it was a declaration. There was just enough pressure. Just enough.
You fell asleep like that, rain at the windows. Your body was warm and quiet and his fingers were loosely twined in yours.
In the morning, when sunlight cracked through the clouds and your head was tucked under his chin, you didn't pretend to be surprised.
You just smiled into his shirt and whispered, "told you I don't snore."
And he murmured, half-asleep: "I know. I wanted you closer."
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
You were mid-bite when the door slammed. Slammed-slammed. Like 'Ferrari just lost a front-row seat to Monaco glory' slammed. Of course, because that was basically what had just happened. Except, of course, you had figured out now that Kimi drew for McLaren.
You paused, olive halfway to your mouth.
You heard boots. Heavy steps. Muted Finnish cursing. Well, it might've been some other language but that was your boy out there and he certainly wasn't speaking English.
"Kimi?" you called from the kitchen, mouth still full. You liked his other yacht more, Iceman, but this one was nice, too. It was called 'One More Toy' and Kimi'd asked you to come here with all his friends. The Iceman, he said, was a lot more personal. You supposed that made you two close. You wouldn't ask him that now, though, because he looked angry. "Is that you or an extremely pissed-off ghost?"
No answer.
Just more cursing and the unmistakable sound of a helmet being launched onto the couch. It didn't hit you, thankfully.
You popped the olive in your mouth. "I'm guessing the race didn't go great?"
He appeared in the doorway like an angry cat dragged backwards through gravel. His fireproof suit was half off and his hair a mess. It was kind of hot, actually. Even with his face doing that thing where he looks like he might kill someone but he's too tired to commit. It was especially hot.
"Engine failure," he growled.
You nodded solemnly, like a priest. "Tragic. Want an olive?"
Kimi just stared at you. Like he couldn’t decide whether to yell or marry you.
"Why are you in my hoodie again?"
"It's my coping mechanism," you said, offering him the jar. "Also, it smells like you, and I like it."
He groaned, stalking past you to the bar, where he poured himself three fingers of something probably older than your childhood dog.
You followed, jar in hand. "Do you want to scream into a pillow? Punch a baguette? I have options."
He downed the drink in one go, eyes closed, breathing like the car personally insulted his grandmother.
"I walked off the track mid-race," Kimi muttered.
"I know. It was very dramatic. Ten out of ten for mysterious recluse energy. Did you hear your friends celebrating as you came on? Oh, wait, sorry, you were brooding again."
"I'm not mysterious. I wasn't brooding."
"You're an international man of monosyllables who just disappeared during a Grand Prix and materialized on a yacht. That's the definition mysterious behavior."
You held up your hands when seeing his look. "I support you."
Kimi finally--finally--cracked the tiniest smile. You loved it when he smiled. Then, he sank onto the couch like his bones had given up.
You sat beside him, jar between you, quietly nudging it toward him.
He took one olive and chewed slowly.
"...fuck. These are good."
"'Course they are, my sister-in-law comes from a family that makes olive oil."
He glanced sideways. "Wow. Didn't know that was a thing."
"You're messing with me. Whatever. If you didn't know, you do now. You know what else is a thing? You coming here every time your life explodes."
Kimi didn't argue. Instead, after a long pause, he admit, "I didn't want to be around anyone else."
"Oh."
"I don't talk much."
"Really?"
"Hey."
"Sorry, go on." You gestured with your jar.
He swallowed. "You make it quiet in my head. In a good way."
The olive jar hit the floor. Metaphorically. Though you did actually fumble it a bit in surprise.
"I--"
"I'm not good at this," Kimi added, clearly distressed by his own emotional vulnerability. "The people stuff."
"Well, you're doing amazing, sweetie," you said, placing a very gentle hand on his very tense knee. "You stormed in here like a Nordic pirate and admitted you like me. That's practically a marriage proposal."
He narrowed his eyes. "I did not say that."
"You meant it."
He opened his mouth to argue, then gave up. He took another olive and had you grinning.
Kimi didn't smile, exactly, but he did press a kiss to your temple five minutes later, like he couldn't not.
You added another thing to your mental summer checklist, the last one. It was actually summer, soon. Almost June.
5. Spend lots of time with one (1) brooding, shirtless, Finnish blonde that's bad with emotions, or: Iceman.
But how were you going to do that? He had his job and you...actually, travel certainly wasn't a problem for you.
Kimi looked at you funny, as if he'd read your mind. "What are you thinking about?"
"Can I come to work with you?"
He coughed. "Work? Like my job?"
"Formula One."
"We'll have to leave the yacht," he said, almost ruefully. "You can handle that?"
"Fuck the Iceman," you responded, though at heart you loved the boat that'd brought you to him, him to you. "I have my own Iceman right here."
"You're sappy," he noted. And this time he smiled.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
a/n: i've never written for a retired driver so this was fun! i adore kimi lol and hope you liked the banter
Seven years. That’s how long you and Arthur had been together, and somehow, fans loved you just as much as they loved him.
Your relationship wasn’t dramatic, it wasn’t staged, it wasn’t messy — it was simply real.
Every race weekend, people spotted you in the paddock, or tucked in the Ferrari garage with his family. You weren’t just “Arthur’s girlfriend” anymore; you were part of the Leclercs.
The fans had noticed too.
Tweets and edits rolled in constantly:
“Seven years… marry her already, Arthur 😭❤️”
“She’s literally the perfect paddock queen.”
“If they don’t get engaged soon, I’m rioting.”
Arthur pretended not to see them, but you always caught him sneaking glances when you scrolled. One evening, curled up on the couch together, you showed him yet another meme shouting marry her already.
Arthur glanced at your phone, ears turning pink.
“Guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
You arched a brow, nudging his shoulder.
“You better want to marry me because you want to — not just because the comments are forcing you.”
Arthur chuckled, shaking his head before leaning closer.
“Don’t worry, mon amour. I’ve wanted to long before the comments ever showed up.”
Your chest warmed, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. Seven years later, the world wanted a wedding — but for you, this right here was enough.
And by the look in his eyes, you had a feeling Arthur wasn’t going to make the fans wait much longer.
