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Unachieved Dreams

Charles Leclerc Imagine

Summary: Every person has dreams in life, Charles is becoming world champion live every Formula 1 driver wishes to achieve one day and Y/N was becoming a wife and mother, but Charles achieving his dream was stopping Y/N from achieving hers.

The scent of the evening sea breeze from Monte Carlo swirls in the air as you sit on the balcony, looking out over the shimmering lights of the city below. A glass of wine sits untouched beside you. The quiet hum of the streets can’t drown out the echoes of your thoughts, the words you’ve replayed a thousand times since he left the apartment earlier today.

"Y/N, we both knew this wasn’t going to work out."

Charles' voice had been calm when he said it, too calm, as though the gravity of his words didn’t carry the same weight for him that they did for you. You thought about his hands—steady on the wheel, gripping the trophy, but cold when they let go of you.

It was always about the championship. From the day you met, you knew he had one goal: to become world champion, to be the best in a sport where only victory counts. That was his dream, the one thing he couldn’t let go of, couldn’t sacrifice. You’d admired him for it, fallen in love with that relentless drive. But somewhere along the line, it became clear that your dreams weren’t part of his.

You wanted more. You wanted a home. A family. To be a wife, a mother. You’d whispered those dreams to him late at night, in the moments between races, when you were both tangled in bed and everything seemed possible. And for a while, you believed he’d share that dream with you, too.

But then came the races, the endless travel, the pressure mounting on his shoulders. He could handle the physical strain, the crashes, the mistakes—but he couldn’t handle the weight of your dreams. You asked for a future together, a life beyond the finish lines and podiums. He asked you to wait. Always to wait.

"I love you, Y/N. But I can’t give you what you want. Not now. Not while I’m still fighting for this."

His words felt like a punch to the gut, as if you were the one holding him back, standing in the way of his destiny. Every driver dreams of becoming world champion, and every moment spent with you was, in his eyes, a distraction. But to you, he was everything. You would have traded every podium, every grand prix, just to have him by your side.

He made his choice today.

You sigh, your breath shaky as tears brim in your eyes. You wonder if he even hesitated before leaving you standing there, shattered. The Charles you knew wouldn’t have, and that was what broke you most. You knew this day was coming. You'd seen the signs, felt the growing distance every time he came back from a race. You were the one with the unfinished goal now, the one whose dreams were slipping through her fingers.

Becoming a wife, a mother—it seemed so simple in comparison to his grand ambition. But in his world, those dreams were secondary, smaller, not worthy of slowing down for. He was always going to chase the world championship, always going to sacrifice everything for that victory. Even you.

A tear falls, landing on your hand, and you realize that no matter how much you loved him, you couldn’t keep sacrificing your dreams for his. The realization hurts, ripping through your chest like a wound that would never fully heal. But there it is, raw and real. You were never going to be his priority.

You wanted a life together. He wanted a trophy. You wanted to be his future. He wanted to be a legend.

As the stars twinkle above, you realize that love wasn’t enough to hold onto someone who was destined to belong to the world, not to you. Charles would always choose the podium over a shared life. And maybe, just maybe, it was time for you to let go and choose yourself.

In the distance, you hear the faint roar of an engine. Charles is out there, chasing his dream, while you sit here, mourning yours.

But tomorrow? Tomorrow, you’d start chasing yours again.

Even if it meant leaving him behind.

Anais’s thought: Hi this is my first fan fic! If you’re reading this thank you for reading it, I hoped you liked it and feel free to leave and request or any feedback! Love Anais❤️

515 words, part 1 here! angst again, but I promise that we’re getting closer to comfort. Stay strong, Logan fans. I believe in you!

>> Warm thank yous for the warm reception 🫶. Ofc, this is all based on @disneyprincemuke ‘s amazing vr!universe.

Before you go, I wrote this fic with these songs in mind; tolerate it and story of us by taylor swift

He takes a brisk walk outside of your shared apartment. You’re behind him, running to catch up.

However, you’re stopped by multiple fans, and he doesn’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.

It’s just another reminder of how different you both are.

Equal halves of the same puzzle, the same puzzle that become unequal, and one continues to grow as the other withers.

Logan doesn’t get stopped by anyone. And he bitterly wonders if it’ll be that way for the rest of time.

The taste of metallic blood tinges as he bites his lip too hard.

Of course, he’s never had a problem being just a planet orbiting around you and your bright stardom, akin to the sun. But, is that really all there is to him? Is that all he’s ever going to be?

He can hear you mingle and brush away fans after a few minutes, yelling at him to stop walking. It chips away at him, hearing your normally confident voice wobbly, but he reminds himself that at the end of the day, you’re going to find someone better.

He manages to avoid you for the next few months. Lovelorn, eyes downcast as he sees you on the news.

That’s all you are to each other now. Strangers passing by.

Intersecting lines are worse than being parallel, after all. You meet once and then it becomes nothing, something, only in the past.

He tells himself that he expected it, it was simply a matter of time.

Time is the cruelest factor. Your original plans to go on a trip together, the Disneyland plans for your anniversary, dashed, and gone.

You’ve always laughed together about the cliches of being a couple, being spotted at places together was something you snorted at. But to him, it was everything.

He was always fine with your level of success and fame versus his. But as time passed, it rusted the shine of young love.

The news articles splash you with stinging headlines and speculation.

They’ve taken one of two sides, either blaming you for changing after your short and seemingly effortless taste of fame. Or, blaming Logan for relying sheerly on your prolonged successes.

It hurt. But imagining him, reading all this, swallowing it whole, vulnerable and essentially left with the worst side of the break-up, hurt more.

That was the first time you’ve fully considered that you two weren’t together anymore.

Twin flames burning too close to the other’s side of the wick.

You see him tomorrow, at a quick press conference that was supposed to be your somewhat victory lap. It’s now seemingly become a celebration of what you’ve lost, you realize, as your eyes meet his.

Practiced speeches splayed on your side of the table from your PR team. They feel empty, without you two sitting beside each other. Each other who used to nudge and use every trick in the book for conferences like this to go off rails.

All traded for a simple and quick end to your long story together. A clean flourish of your shared history.

389 words, angst, pre established relationship, reader is accomplished, based on the world @disneyprincemuke created.

My first real try at RPF, for the Logan Sargeant fans, I’m sorry in advance. >> Additionally, if you want me to continue, I have two endings in mind. Let me know!

part 2 here!

You win. The announcers’ voices boom over the track. Your name has never felt more foreign to Logan. Perhaps, it’s not the only unfamiliar thing, and that’s the cruelest thing to him.

You up there, on the top step, starry eyes sparkling with the flash of cameras

And where was he?

Far, far away from where you’re standing now.

Perhaps he knew for the longest time that you’d just continue to rise, fallen stars always make their way back to the sky, and he couldn’t fault you for it.

You and him through it all, you promised with a toothy grin, pinkies interlocked.

The reporters are cruel, even when he can tell they mean well. Congratulating you and your feat, female world champion and broken records.

You’re happy and that made him happy. What changed, he couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with.

He insists that he’s fine as you reach your respective motorhomes to pack up for the end of the year. (He’s not.)

And as you walk away, extra excitement in your step, and Seb ruffles your hair, he locks himself in his driver’s room.

You’re amazing. And he can’t fault you for shining.

But if you can win, succeed, then why couldn’t he?

Tears prick his waterline as it sinks in. The replays of your win sting. And it’s never been this way, but why does it hurt him now?

He snaps at you for the first time in your whole friendship, relationship now, this morning.

He’s apologetic immediately but your face loses the smile that’s been honed there for a while now.

He snapped about you and your shiny, amazing, champion friends. And you took it to heart, yelling back that at least they were something.

A pin drops as you realize that you fucked up. You’re sorry, you really are. Hotheadedness and youth go hand in hand, and you never meant to hurt him.

He shakes his head stepping backward as he puts on his coat, running out of the shared apartment, running away even when he feels that you were right.

He’s just a sentence in the paragraph of your life.

You’re reassured him time and time again that he’s important to you, and that his performance would never change what you feel about him, what what if it did, he thinks.