#especially when compared to everyone else that likes them

[plague-karm]

Caine repeatedly making comments on Zooble’s appearance “the toy box character” “YOU LOOK CONVOLUTED”

Threats “I’LL TEAR YOU TO PIECES”

Zooble kickstarting Caine’s existential crisis regarding his purpose

His crashout being inevitable (hyper realistic analog horror-esque Caine when?)

Zooble being left off the favourite character vote even though they were an option in the episode

Caine getting significantly more aggressive towards them than everyone else (look at the way pilot Caine talked to them compared to now it’s night and day)

I firmly believe that Zooble is the least likely to get abstracted and I honest to god thought they were the safest next to Kinger in terms of narrative torment outside of that. But seeing a gradual change in their dynamic (Caine being based on AM isn’t lost on me, especially considering what AM does to Ted at the end of the story when he pisses him off through what he views as the greatest act of spite ever conceived) I have a feeling that Zooble’s gonna be going through the RINGER soon.

[frozenartscapes]

At some point (maybe in the early training stages) the girls are all sitting around trauma dumping about the lives they had before becoming Idols/Demon Hunters. Rumi's got all sorts of "I've been training to fight since I learned to walk" horror stories. Mira's got the "my ultra rich parents never loved me and only cared about my golden child brother" stories. And Zoey at first feels inadequate, because her life was mostly normal? Yeah, her parents split up eventually but to her, she lived a pretty standard suburban American life, especially compared to those two.

But then she mentions the day she literally drew the shortest straw when a customer had smeared literal shit all over the washroom and someone needed to clean it up. And that led into another story about the grease trap backing up. And the roach problem. And then the rat problem. And all the Karens who were worse than the demons they faced when she'd have to tell them their coupons were expired. How there are some timer beeps she can't hear anymore without reflexively having the need to lift the nonexistent basket of fries. About how one time a bunch of coworkers called in sick, leaving her and one other guy to man the whole place for the dinner rush and she came this close to willingly sticking her hand in the deep fryer just to have an excuse to leave. About how one time a newbie didn't realize a plastic bucket wasn't appropriate for dumping oil from the fryers into during cleaning and everyone else was too busy to realize until it was far too late.

And that didn't even dig into how soul crushing it feels. It's a little easier when you're young, but even then those types of jobs tend to feel like they've got a strangle hold on you and won't let go. Like your life is and always will be based around preparing food for ungrateful people in an unnaturally fast amount of time and if you're a second over the allotted time limit you get the "hey, you're doing great, but I'm going to need you to put just a little more effort in today, okay?" talk from the manager. It's nothing but the constant drone of fryers and grills and drink machines, and finally knowing peace once everything is shut down for the night. It's going into the walk-in just to scream for a few seconds before putting a damn smile back on your face and stepping back into chaos. It's starting each day thinking "well it can't be as bad as yesterday" only to be proven wrong.

And Rumi and Mira are just fascinated. And horrified. They never knew that was what average people faced while working in places like that. The most exposure they ever had to that type of workplace up until that point was maybe the odd time they would get take out, but usually even then it wasn't from fast food places. It was like their eyes were opened, suddenly seeing a whole new - and horrible - world through Zoey's frankly terrifying stories. It's made worse when Mira demands if the pay was at least good for all that torture, to which Zoey responds: "Oh, no. Believe me, if they could somehow pay us less than minimum wage, they would."

And then they're further enraged when they learn what minimum wage in America is.

The idea of Zoey working at McDonald's or something at 16 is still so funny to me, especially when compared to Rumi and Mira's childhoods.

At the same point in time, you have Mira doing fancy piano recitals to impress her parents' friends, Rumi having twice-daily combat training and frequent pop quizzes about the different demon types, and Zoey getting cussed out because someone in the back accidentally put nine chicken nuggets in some guy's ten piece. Fighting with the self-cleaning ice cream machine because like eight people want McFlurries and it's been inoperable all the day and everyone in the store is on the "they lie about the machine being down because they don't want to refill it" thing. Scribbling lyrics on napkins when its slow. Being the shortest one there and therefore the one who always has to crawl into and clean the play place. Sneaking fries and nuggets to get her through her shift.

I don't think she likes McDonald's anymore. The girls or Bobby would offer to take her there because "it's American food and you like burgers" and she's like "dear god please no". If someone talks to her while she's cooking or cleaning there's a 1% chance she slips into her customer service voice and says "I'll be right with you, thank you for your patience" and whichever one of her girlfriends just asked if she wanted any help is like "uh... what".

[bytemycupcakes]

Just finished Scar's new episode and

sighs

Something Something Scar is really feeling the repercussions of being Stuck On Red in Secret Life between new seasons in this episode. He Cant Leave the red name headspace reliably anymore.

Anytime he seems to be acting normal again something happens and he is dragged Right Back Down to wanting to kill and maim and destroy everyone who has ever crossed him.

I LOST IT the way Scar Silently Walked Toward Jimmy and Jim RUNS AWAY. When HES allowed to fight first and Scar Isnt!! He cant speak a full sentence because he is SCARED of Scar! Who is green and thus should not be intimidating at ALL. He poked the damn bear!!

Scar instantly burning the bridge him and Bigb were FINALLY building after so many seasons of distrust/unease all because of that kill set up.

Scar Not Shutting Up about wanting to Kill Skizz.

Skizz saying Scar's violent tendancies are corrupting bdubs. With some extra limited+Secret life/brothers angst there bc Scars the GOOD kid. Hes supposed to be the FAVORITE. But bdubs is Clearly Replacing Him in that wheelhouse- especially after his Villian sl task. I have too many thoughts about scar and bdubs' psyche in limlife and how that effects them/their dynamic after the fact.

Scar damn near begging Grian to let him kill Skizz. And GOD. The way his voice flattens when Pearl suggests he die a few times to be red. Smth Smth hc after winning a game the Winners have a Strong Urge to take themselves out. But Scar Hasnt Yet. Scar is Still Trapped because he hasn't died in secret life yet. Because he wont listen to the voices telling him to die. And that moment. The way he stared into the hole. Really felt like all those whispers were coming at him full force. Telling him to Just Die. Just jump. Do it. It'll solve your problem. Just. Die. Scar.

Scar threatning to Burn Scott for the smallest little crime of [checks notes] Telling Them to Wait To Burn The Rejects New Base Additions.

-

Bdubs being the only one who seems to Recognize That Scar Has A Problem. and he doesnt know what exactly it is, but he knows Scar Just Says He Wants To Kill People Sometimes and thats Fine. Thats Okay.

Scar has ALWAYS had an issue with his bloodlust (smth smth insert some tinfoil hat theory about how early he went red in 3rd life compared to everyone else here), but post Secret life imprisonment I think it has gotten notably worse. and Bdubs seems to be the only one who really acknowledges it was always there. Yeah people are always scared of Scar, and know he can be a lil trigger happy. But nobody acknowledges it like bdubs does. With grace and patience. an understanding that that isnt totally Scar. That Scar is still a good teammate. Bdubs wont say he trusts Scar. But his Actions speak louder than his words in my opinion. His defence of Scar unable to Hold Back the Bloodlust, just screams that no matter what Bdubs says, to a degree he DOES trust Scar. And will not let people come after him unjustified. Bdubs is close enough to know when Scar is issuing a real threat, and when the voices are just too loud and telling him to kill when he doesnt really want to.

[atzamot1962]

Photoshoot + Q&A

Hello everyone, as promised, I’m sharing three photos from my recent shoot, two of them edited to recreate Eichmann in the M36 uniform. Since only one known photo of him in this uniform exists, this is purely a historical recreation.

-The Q&A is below

*I’m still learning Photoshop, so the quality isn’t perfect, but I hope you enjoy the results.

Q&A :

------

Q: What’s the weirdest fact you know about Eichmann?

A: Not exactly weird, but definitely amusing: Eichmann had quite a habit of lying and spreading rumors about himself.

- He once claimed he had become a communist after the war (obviously fake)

- He consulted a medium to predict his future,

- He was born in Sarona (Tel Aviv) — which he used to envoke fear in Jewish communities, even though such a lie could have easily backfired.

- He even claimed to have traveled all through Israel, though in reality he wasn’t allowed to go beyond Haifa port.

It’s not “weird” as much as it is fascinating how Easily he could lie and make-up stories to better his position.

----

Q: Was there anything in his childhood that could have indicated he would become a monster?

A: Not really. His childhood was fairly normal compared to other high-ranking Nazis. He was bullied for looking “Jewish,” which is ironic, and some psychologists i have talked with have suggested that losing his mother early on in his life may have impacted him, but I doubt it. I think his personality, especially being a people-pleaser to those above him, is what ultimately pushed him into what he became.

----

Q: Do you think he did what he did primarily for ideological or careerist reasons?

A: A mix of both. Before joining the SS, Eichmann wasn’t especially antisemitic. If not for Kaltenbrunner, he might never have joined or risen to the position he did. But during the war, his ideological views changed, and he began to embrace the Nazi belief.

----

Q: Does your family know about your hyperfixation? How do they feel about it?

A: I don’t really talk about it much with them. They don’t fully understand why I’m so interested in the Third Reich or on a specific figure, but they don’t mind either. My grandparents actually enjoy discussing it with me, so those conversations are nice.

----

Q: Why Eichmann in particular? Is it his role in the Final Solution, or perhaps his capture and trial that interests you most?

A: It’s hard to explain exactly why him. It started when I was 14–15, and I came across a photo of him. From there, it became an obsessive hyperfixation — reading, researching, and digging into every aspect of his life. What fascinates me most are both the trial and his personal life, whether in Argentina or during the Nazi regime. I enjoy learning about both his actions and the person behind them.

----

*Now; its a long question so i'll split it into different parts

Q: I want to ask, why *Eichmann* in particular? Is it his role in the Final Solution which plays a significant part in your interest, or even his, in my own opinion, equally interesting capture/trial?

A: It’s hard to explain exactly why him. It started when I was around 14–15, and I came across a photo of him. From there, it became an obsessive hyperfixation : reading, researching, and digging into every aspect of his life. What fascinates me most are both the trial and his personal life, whether in Argentina or during the Nazi regime. I enjoy learning about both his actions and his personality/personal life.

----

Q: Whom else, other than him, do you find interesting, and for what reasons in particular?

A: I used to study the 3rd Reich as a whole, but lately I’ve focused on Kaltenbrunner , partly because he was childhood friends with Eichmann and Skorzeny, especially for his operations and later work with the Mossad.

----

Q: I would also like to inquire on if you have read the Eichmann memoirs

A: Yes, and I’ve even seen the physical papers. But I wouldn’t recommend them as a source for learning about him. Unlike some Nazi memoirs, his writings are completely unreliable.

-----

I would like to thank everyone for submitting Questions and for following/liking my blog

Reposting helps and will be much appreciated, thanks for reading :)

[taruth3mighty]

Doing some mild research on Khaos' name origins

I found out some interesting stuff about it that sort of applies to Doodle World's version of the deity and gives me a better appreciation of Khaos --- speaking of which,

The first thing I found out is that the Greek god of Chaos is often depicted as a female. Which lines up with The Witch in Doodle World who is Khaos.

The Witch aka Khaos IS referred to by she/her pronouns throughout Icyridge by everyone --- even calling herself a "delicate maiden"

The next thing I found out --- if you don't remember. Before the Witch was revealed to us in Icyridge part 2, she was initially teased in the Help Center request.

The Blackhorn Clan refer to her as "The Celestial"

...Celestial? That's one of the name origins for Celestian. No wonder she's my patron god. Celestian mentioned.

Ahem.

It actually shines some light on her even before she was shown off in Icyridge. The word 'celestial' derives from many meanings, the dictionary definitions being:

positioned in or relating to the sky, or outer space as observed in astronomy

belonging or relating to heaven

supremely good

Looking at Khaos' doodle form design, with the constellations mixed with some specs of stars. And it looks just very spacey.

Which fits considering that her Greek inspiration is the one who rules over space and is that in between. *From what I can find.

And the mist elements of the design could also play a role into the Greek inspiration even more since Khaos was the Greek parts of her. *From what I can tell.

Her design carries a lot of feather motifs into it, and I feel like that's referencing another ting with her greek god origins --- who is the "mother of birds" *from what I could find

The third eye in her doodle design could be a reference to the fact she's technically a higher being --- to the point she can even see the Blue Strings.

Another aspect of her design that could be intentional is the constant color gold in both her doodle and 'mortal' form.

Gold signifies luxury, wealth and status, which to her, would make sense. Because even when she resembles the Alchemists, she still places herself above them because she is.

She's a god by technicality. Except unlike Chronos, she's not bound by the gold on her. Instead it's used to compliment her and make her look even more regal and powerful.

Gold and Purple are colors associated with the wealthy and powerful after all --- especially purple. Which is in the Witch's hair and Khaos' wisps.

Gold is most commonly associated with wealth and power, but it can also symbolize other things, such as purity, wisdom, and courage.

Purple has long been associated with royalty and aristocracy. Due to its rarity and difficulty with obtaining the color.

Of course Khaos aka The Witch would choose to dawn purple and gold so much. It's just flexing that she's better than everyone and I love it.

Even her DESIGN is giving off vibes that she's different and unique compared to everyone else. Maybe this is why wish is taking forever to make the story because he's doing a lot of research on character designs and story /hj

[mrsvante]

i love everything about this, especially ‘we should be celebrating creating a new life together, not the regrets of the old days’ 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 that’s literally the mc.

okay, now to answer your questions:

realistically speaking, i’m probably the most compatible with jin. we’d be the ultimate introverted couple, i’d be the black cat to his german shepherd. we’d bicker for fun meanwhile everyone else think we’re about to duel, and have quiet moments on the patio looking up at the stars while he compared different types of aliens.

i’m probably the least compatible with my bias 🤣🤣🤣 i think taehyung would get tired of my brattiness real quick. i think he’d have fun for a solid three months before he got tired of everything needing to be a debate or having to listen to my random rants. he’d also hate how hyper independent i am, because he wouldn’t really feel needed.

the easier character from all my fics to develop? hmmmm (i feel like i’m being interviewed 😅😅)

the easiest character was probably jin in from scratch..although, honestly, he’s the easiest for me to write at the moment in general because all of his fics have a level of comfort to them. out of all the members, he’s the one i gravitate to the most when my depression is really bad.

the hardest character would be jeongguk in stolen orbit. he’s nothing like jk in real life (in my opinion) along with having the create the alien species the kaereth. out of everything that went into building that world overall, his manner of speaking is what probably takes me the longest to flesh out until i’m satisfied.

i think namjoon in the long game is probably the least like joon irl. 1) he’s no way near as clumsy 😆 2) i feel like namjoon would call himself out so hard about his obsession with mc, that he’d probably end the relationship and go to counseling.

thank you so much for reading and for these questions!! they were so stimulating, my little audhd enjoyed answering them a little too much 😅💜✨

philosophical fiancé namjoon headcanons

your fiancé is the kind of man who reads three books at once, waxes poetic about love while brushing his teeth, overthinks everything, and loves you with an all encompassing sincerity.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon once spent forty minutes explaining why he thinks your laugh might be proof that the universe bends toward joy. you had a mouthful of granola the whole time. when you asked him to repeat it, he sighed and said, “nevermind, you had to be there.” then kissed your forehead like you’d just made his point for him.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon writes entire journal entries about the way you sleep. he once described it as “a cathedral of stillness built between breaths.” you found the page, laughed for fifteen minutes, and made him read it out loud in a dramatic voice. he blushed. But didn’t stop writing.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon will pause in the middle of a makeout session to ask, “do you think love is a choice or a force of nature?” you glare at him. he clears his throat and says, “force of nature. definitely. carry on.” but the moment’s gone and you threaten to lock him out of the bedroom next time.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon starts a heated intellectual debate in bed about whether physical desire is inherently emotional or if the two can be separated. you try to keep up but he’s already kissing your collarbone and whispering, “what are your thoughts on platonic eros?” you answer by moaning his name. he takes that as a valid counterargument and wins.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon reads you poetry before going down on you. sometimes it’s neruda. sometimes it’s a grocery list he’s rewritten to sound sensual: “one ripe peach, honey for the mouth, dark chocolate for after.” you laugh until you’re gasping. he smiles like a man who has studied pleasure as a science.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon likes to discuss every inch of you as he touches it. “here. this part. your hip…how can something so soft ground me like gravity?” he touches you like he’s writing an academic paper on the weight of your breath. when you tell him to shut up and do something, he grins and says, “but i am. i’m composing a thesis between your thighs.”

your philosophical fiancé namjoon overthinks every argument. even the small ones. he’ll apologize three times, circle back later that night, and text you the next morning: “still thinking about our tone. i never want to make you feel unheard.” you roll your eyes, but your heart aches. no one’s ever fought for your peace like this.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon has a running google doc titled questions to ask my wife one day. It includes things like: “do you believe people can truly know each other?” and “what’s a memory that feels like a scent?” and “would you still love me if i forgot who i was?” he lets you peek at it one night, and you tear up. he says, “i want to know you across every version of us, love bug.”

your philosophical fiancé namjoon spent six months planning the proposal, then nearly called it off the day of because he saw one cloud in the sky and didn’t want “weather to taint our eternal vow.” you found him pacing near the venue in a full suit, mumbling about omens. when you asked if he was okay, he looked at you, eyes wide, and whispered, “i’m gonna ask you to be mine forever and i think i might pass out.” you kissed him before he could. he proposed anyway, hands shaking, voice steady.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon rewrote his proposal speech twelve times. the final version was handwritten on thick stationery and tucked into his coat pocket, but when the moment came, he couldn’t say a word of it. he just looked at you and said, “you are the answer to every question i thought no one would ever ask me.” you said yes before he could even kneel.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon still wakes up sometimes in awe that you said yes. he stares at your hand in the dark, your ring glinting faintly under moonlight, and thinks about how love isn’t always fire…it’s soil. something to plant yourself in, again and again. he presses a kiss to your knuckles and whispers, “thank you for choosing me.”

your philosophical fiancé namjoon insists on a wedding ceremony that reflects “the convergence of souls and timelines.” you just want to serve good food and dance barefoot. the compromise? a woodland venue with string lights and a playlist of jazz, indie, and instrumental covers. but when he talks about your vows, he cries. every time.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon sits with you for hours picking flower arrangements, but when you ask what color he wants the groomsmen in, he says “warm beige. Or dusty philosophy.” you ask him to clarify and he hands you a palette with six identical taupes labeled things like “moral nuance” and “postmodern elegance.” you choose navy blue instead. he pouts, then admits it was the right call.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon once spiraled for two full hours because he couldn’t decide between two fonts for your wedding invitations. “do you want timeless or poetic? serif or minimalism? what does our union say about aesthetics??” you ended up choosing the one that looked romantic but legible, while he laid face down on the carpet questioning his life choices.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon tries to help with the guest list but ends up adding random artists, historical figures, and dead poets “just in case their spirits show up.” you tell him ghosts can’t RSVP. he tells you “love transcends realms.” you make him take a nap.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon talks to your belly when you’re pregnant like he’s giving a TED Talk to the baby. “today we’re going to discuss empathy, and why your mother is the best person i’ve ever known.” you pretend to be annoyed but secretly record him every time. one day, you’ll play them back and cry. he already does.

your philosophical fiancé namjoon keeps every note you’ve ever written him. even the dumb ones, especially the dumb ones. once he found a grocery list where you’d doodled a heart next to his name and folded it into his wallet like a love letter. “this,” he says, holding it up, “is my most treasured possession.”

your philosophical fiancé namjoon sometimes stares at you in the dark and whispers things like, “isn’t it terrifying how much I love you?” not because he’s scared of the love, but because he’s scared of losing it. “you’re the one constant in all my futures,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “i don’t know what i’d do if you ever changed your mind.”

masterlist

[aroacedenkisai]

I should talk more abt how I’ve been interpreting and characterizing Galvan and Denki bc my takes on them are detailed and extensive…

I find them fascinating as characters (especially on a psychological front) and I think that the more elaborate versions of them that I’ve built in my head are really interesting

[egophiliac]

I love your take on Crowley!

I know that the early, non-Diasomnia stories aren't really your thing, but are you reading the novels at all?

I have been following some of the fan translations and the second book seems intense! Would love to hear what you think about them.

thank you! 💚💚💚 I'm not really sure why you think I don't like the earlier arcs though, I love pretty much all the characters and their storis! (I think 5 and 1 are my favorite of the past episodes, though 6 infected me with the Shroud brainrot something fierce.) I just...ESPECIALLY love diasomnia. :') but there is room in my heart for all of these dweebs! like, who among us is not just as ride-or-die for Adeuce as they are for us.

that said, I don't really follow the other adaptations like the manga (aside from a dip-in just to see the new Yuus) or the novels, though I keep meaning to check them out! I do like seeing the differences between the different forms of media, and how certain things get adapted one way or another! but alas, time/a lack of accessibility stands in our way more often than not. :( someday...someday I will have time to consume all of the media...

[sunshine-zenith]

I was thinking about how Act 1 Powder was a similar age to Vi in the opening scene, and from Act 2 onward Jinx was a similar age to Act 1, maybe only a little older

[blyszczopies]

the sparkledog of the pack

[animationismycomfort]

burn was done DIRTY in the show

[redhotarsenic]

It’s so fucked that the main source of unease I felt building up over the past several months was me feeling pressured to perform femininity to be seen as desirable to other people. It was never ever said said out loud in that space but I could FEEL it and I never knew until it was pointed out to me.

[starswallowingsea]

every time i've gotten into a popular series or franchise i've always been disappointed by it because like. its so hyped up and i watch it and find it mid and it appears we are not watching/playing the same thing

[kekewrites]

Tw. insecure/introvert reader, angst(?), dark content, noncon kissing, implied noncon/dubcon at the end, jealousy, tension, mutual pinning, misunderstanding, hidden feelings, slow burn(?), stalking, toxic, sabotage, possessiveness, red flag, manipulation, dependency, no actual smut

***

Imagine being the childhood friend of the popular playboy in school.

He wasn’t just a typical playboy—he was popular for a good amount of reasons. He was, of course, hot, tall, with a pretty face, but he also had that effortless charisma. Easy-going, charming, funny when he wanted to be, and somehow still managed to keep decent grades. A good reputation wrapped in the kind of smile that made girls melt.

The only problem? His ongoing roster of girls. You honestly couldn’t pinpoint when or how he turned into such a flirt, it sort of just... happened. Maybe when high school hit, and puberty did him more favors than most. Whatever the case, he became that guy. The one you’d usually only see in dramas.

But it’s not like you had any business with that part of him. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You two had always been close. Childhood friends. Neighbors. Playmates since you were practically in diapers. Your parents knew each other well, your families comfortable enough to arrange sleepovers that turned into routine. You grew up in each other’s houses, like siblings. Always “the duo.”

But while he bloomed into the guy everyone wanted to be around, you... didn’t exactly shine the same way. You were a little plain. A bit on the bland side compared to others, especially compared to him. While he stood tall, you were shorter than average, often overlooked in group photos. You didn’t have much of a figure either, which made changing in the locker room a quiet kind of dread. Flat and forgettable. You’d never say it out loud, but you noticed the difference.

He lit up every room he walked into. You were just... there. Next to him. Always next to him. Just not quite enough.

But it was fine.

You never made a big deal about any of it. It’s not like you wanted the spotlight anyway. You were comfortable being in the background, comfortable not having all eyes on you. Sure, sometimes you got a few questionable looks when you were with Mr. Charming, but you learned not to care. Let them wonder. You were used to being the quiet one beside the star of the show.

Though, truth be told, you sometimes wondered too. Why did he always stick around? Even when the popular kids were constantly egging him on to ditch you and join them, he never really did. He’d flirt and play around, sure, but he always came back to you. As if none of the sparkle out there was worth trading for late-night game sessions and instant noodles in your room.

"Geez, why’re you in my bedroom...? I thought you were about to go to the concert with them," you asked one evening, raising a brow as he sprawled across your bed like it was his.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t wanna,” he replied, eyes already glued to the game controller in his hand. “Plus, I wanna spend time playing games with you.”

You rolled your eyes at the time, but deep down, your chest tightened just a little. Warm and confused all at once.

It was things like that, small, innocent moments that led to the never-ending question you kept hearing from people.

“Are you guys dating?”

You always shut it down quickly, automatically, almost on instinct now.

“No. Definitely not. I’m not his type, we’re just friends.”

Because that was the truth, right?

Right?

***

He heard you say it all the time.

“We’re just friends.”

You said it so naturally, like breathing. Like it was a fact. Like it didn’t chip away at something in him every time those words slipped from your lips.

But damn, you didn’t make it easy to believe.

Not when you smiled at him like that. Not when you laughed at his dumb jokes, even the ones no one else caught. Not when you looked at him like he was just him, not the guy with a line of girls and a reputation he didn’t even care for anymore.

He told himself he was just being a good friend. That walking you home—even when it meant doubling back—was normal. That flicking some guy’s forehead for looking at you too long was harmless. Just a joke. Even if something in his chest burned every time.

And maybe he leaned in too close sometimes. Maybe he hovered near your space a little more than necessary. But he didn’t do it on purpose. Not at first.

It’s just... you never pulled away.

You made it feel like he belonged there.

And then there were the little things.

The way you always insisted you weren’t picky, but he still remembered how you liked your noodles with less broth. The way he always brought an extra hoodie because yeah, you always forgot yours, and he didn’t want you getting cold. The way he chose the seat next to you, even if the room was empty. Always you. Always your side.

You never questioned it.

Except that one time.

"Why’re you always hanging out with me? I'm not exactly a party."

He remembered how you asked it with a smile, trying to play it off.

But it hit him harder than he expected. So he gave you the truth. Or at least… part of it.

"Yeah, but you’re my favorite kind of quiet."

You laughed, of course. Brushed it off like it was nothing.

But he saw the way you looked down after. The way your cheeks went warm. And he carried that moment with him, filed it away with all the other things he never said out loud.

And when people asked if you two were dating and you laughed and said “No, I’m definitely not his type”—he never corrected you.

He should’ve. God, he wanted to.

But instead, he just smiled. That same tight, hollow smile.

Because you were wrong.

You were so wrong.

You weren’t loud, or bold, or flashy like the girls who chased him, sure. But none of them ever made him feel the way you did.

And you never saw it.

You looked at yourself and only saw “plain.” But he looked at you and saw home.

And he stayed.

He always stayed.

That part? You never really understood.

But maybe… he was just too much of a coward to make you.

***

It happened one weekend night.

Your parents were out of town for a wedding (you didn't want to go along), leaving you with the house to yourself. You’d planned to spend the evening curled up with snacks and a cheesy drama, nothing unusual. The house was quiet, comfortably so.

Until a knock came at the front door. Loud. Repetitive.

You opened it, and there he was, him. Tall, flushed, and very, very drunk.

“Heeeyyy,” he drawled, grinning lopsidedly as he leaned against the doorframe. “Youuuuuu. I missed you.”

You blinked, completely stunned. “Wait—what the hell? Are you drunk? Where were you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stumbled forward, and your reflexes kicked in just in time to stop him from falling face-first into your entryway.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, arms flailing as you tried to support him. “Jeez, you’re heavy, what did you drink?”

He giggled. Actually giggled.

“Dunno,” he mumbled, dropping most of his weight onto you like a sleepy sloth. “They gave me... stuff. Tasted like cough syrup. Missed your face though…”

You groaned, knees nearly buckling under him as you fumbled to drag his dead weight toward the living room. “You missed my face? Seriously?”

He made a noise that was suspiciously close to a whine. “Yeah… You didn’t come to the party. I waited. Got bored. Left.”

“You should’ve just stayed and sobered up instead of dragging your drunk ass here.”

But he didn’t respond. Instead, he slurred something completely incoherent and nuzzled into your shoulder.

You finally managed to guide him to the couch, huffing and trying to keep your balance. But as you bent to lower him onto the cushions, he suddenly shifted his weight and with zero warning, pulled you down with him.

“W-Wait—!”

You fell right on top of him with a muffled oof, and before you could scramble away, his arms lazily wrapped around you, holding you there like a living body pillow.

“Comfy,” he mumbled against your hair. “You smell nice.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wha— I— Get off!”

But he didn’t budge. In fact, he snuggled closer, warmth radiating off him as he held you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Y’know,” he whispered, voice thick with sleep and alcohol, “I don’t like it when you say you’re not my type.”

You froze.

“I hate it,” he added, softer now. “So dumb. You don’t even see how much I like being around you…”

Then silence. Deep, slow breaths. He was already half-asleep, completely unaware of the way your heart was trying to beat out of your chest.

You didn’t know what to say.

So you said nothing.

And stayed there, quietly listening to the sound of his breathing, with your face burning and your thoughts racing, wondering if he’d remember any of it in the morning.

Your heart was pounding like it wanted to escape your chest.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your collarbone, his arms still wrapped around you in a lazy hold. Everything about the moment was too much—the closeness, the weight of his words, the way he mumbled "I don’t like it when you say you’re not my type.”

It should’ve meant something. Should’ve stirred something deeper. And for a moment, it did.

But then, reality hit.

This was him—the same guy who’d flirted with three girls just last week, the same guy whose phone buzzed with messages from different names at ungodly hours. The guy who could have anyone he wanted with just a glance and a half-hearted smile.

Your brows furrowed, the haze of warmth in your chest beginning to cool.

Of course he was saying stuff like that. He was drunk. Sloppy. Blurry-eyed. Probably mistaking you for someone else, or worse, just saying the first sweet thing that came to mind because it was easy. Because that's what he does.

The warmth in your cheeks faded. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you stared.

You sighed.

“Stupid drunk,” you muttered, voice flat and unimpressed.

He didn’t react, already halfway to sleep, breathing soft and slow like a knocked-out puppy.

You stayed like that for a moment longer, caught between the ghost of his words and the bitter edge of your thoughts. Part of you wanted to believe what he said. But the other part? The part that had watched girl after girl fall for him and get tossed aside like it was nothing?

That part just wanted to roll its eyes.

Still, you didn’t move.

Because even if you didn’t believe him…

His arms around you still felt kind of nice.

***

You two acted normal after the morning of that. He probably didn't remember what he said, which was a good thing for you. Moved on, like nothing happened.

It's been a few days after that and you were talking about someone new—a guy from your class, apparently. You had that little spark in your voice, the one he usually only heard when you were talking about food or finding a cute dog online.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“So yeah,” you said casually, biting into a snack as you scrolled on your phone, “he offered to walk me home the other day. I didn’t let him, obviously. But he was really nice about it. Kinda surprising.”

He sat beside you on your bed, leaning back on one hand, pretending not to care. “Oh? He did?”

“Yeah. I think he’s cool,” you said, voice light, unaware of how that single word stabbed into him harder than he wanted to admit.

He tilted his head, a smile pulling at his lips, one of those closed-eyed smiles he wore when he was being “harmless.”

“You do?”

You nodded, totally unfazed. “Mhm. He’s funny, smart. Kinda cute.”

There it was.

The trigger.

He sat up a little straighter, the smile never quite reaching his eyes now. “Funny, smart, cute?” he repeated, still with that casual tone. “Wow. Sounds like a real catch.”

You blinked at him. “Yeah, I guess. He’s easy to talk to.”

He snorted. “Right, right. Tall guy? Bit of a clean-cut look?”

You nodded again, chewing absently on your snack.

“Must be nice,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Bet he’s the type to open doors and call you ma’am too.”

You laughed. “I mean, manners aren’t exactly a red flag.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” he said, voice picking up heat now, even as he smiled. “So polite. Bet he irons his shirts and rehearses compliments in the mirror.”

You gave him a look, amused. “What is with you?”

“Nothing. Just sayin’—guy’s probably all talk. Bet he folds under pressure. Can’t even kill a spider without screaming.”

You raised a brow, “That’s a bold assumption.”

He scoffed, throwing his hands up, still smiling but not meaning it. “I’m taller, better looking, and I don’t have to try so hard to impress people.”

Your jaw dropped a little. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” he said, raising his bottle in mock-toast. “If you’re gonna go for someone ‘cool,’ maybe aim higher. You know. Someone who’s taller, funnier, better-looking, less try-hard. Maybe someone who’s known you since you were five. Just throwing that out there.”

“Huh?”

“And I bet my dick’s bigger than his."

You choked on your drink, “What?!”

He blinked. “What?”

You stared at him, stunned, and he just gave a tiny shrug like oops, did I say that out loud?

You laughed, shaking your head, brushing it all off like it was just another one of his weird ego trips. “Okay, weirdo.”

He didn’t respond right away.

He just watched you, jaw tightening slightly as you turned your attention back to your phone, entirely missing the storm he was trying to hide behind casual smirks and crude jokes.

You didn’t get it, because you didn’t think he looked at you that way.

***

After that conversation, things didn’t exactly change—but they didn’t quite go back to normal either.

He still walked you home. Still flopped onto your bed like it was his own. Still stole your snacks and your charger and your last bit of patience on most days.

But sometimes, you’d catch him watching you a little too long.

Not in the obvious way. Not like the way other guys did, staring with boldness and intentions written all over their faces.

No—he did it quietly. Like he was trying to memorize the way you smiled when you thought no one was looking. Like he was trying to figure something out about you… or maybe about himself.

Then there were the little shifts.

He started texting back slower when you told him you were talking to that guy again. Didn’t say anything harsh, but his replies were short. Blunt.

And when that same guy approached you one afternoon in the hallway, he just so happened to slide in between you two, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Didn’t know you liked hanging out with traffic cones,” he muttered with a lopsided grin, nodding at the guy’s neon hoodie.

You laughed nervously, brushing it off. “You’re so dumb.”

But the guy left after that. Didn’t even try to keep the conversation going.

And when you asked him what that was about, he just shrugged.

“Didn’t like his face.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t like anyone’s face lately.”

He smiled. “Yours is okay, I guess.”

And then there were those times when you were on your phone, texting, and he’d lean over your shoulder too quickly.

“Who’s that?”

“No one.”

“Hmm. No one has a name?”

You sighed, brushing him away. “Why are you so nosy lately?”

But he’d never answer. He’d just flop backward onto the couch or your bed and throw an arm over his eyes like he was bored. Or tired. Or both.

But you felt it.

Something had shifted.

He was getting quieter about the things he didn’t say. Quieter about how he stayed so close but kept himself just far enough that you wouldn’t really notice.

***

You didn’t say anything about it to him.

Not when you got the number. Not when you exchanged a few late-night texts with the guy from class. And definitely not when he asked who kept lighting up your phone and you lied—said it was your cousin, or some stupid group chat.

Because… if he wanted to keep treating you like you were just his best friend, then fine. Maybe you’d stop waiting. You were plain ol Jane anyway, at this rate you'd end up alone. Not like anyone would like you if you don't even try or put any effort to yourself. Maybe it was time to try something different.

Someone different.

So you said yes to a date.

It wasn’t a big deal. Just a small place near the station, casual, low-pressure. You wore a little lip tint. Changed your shirt twice. Checked your phone four times on the way there.

You even left the house without telling him.

Which was rare.

Because somehow, despite how frustrated you were, you still felt a little guilty doing something like this without him knowing. Scrap that! You shouldn't feel guilty at all, it's not like you're his girlfriend or something. Plus, this was your first date, you shouldn't even think of him.

You got there early. Sat at the little table. Smoothed your skirt out. Sipped water slowly.

And waited.

Then waited some more.

Minutes passed. Then a half-hour. Then an hour.

No messages. No call. Just… silence.

At some point, you stopped pretending to check your phone like there was something new. You just sat there, hands folded, eyes distant. Trying not to let it sink in too hard, but it did anyway.

He didn’t show.

No explanation.

No reason.

Just a reminder that maybe you really weren’t the type to be chosen after all.

By the time you got home, it was dark. You kicked your shoes off a little harder than usual, holding back the pressure behind your eyes. The house was quiet. Your parents weren’t home. Just you. And the lingering ache of rejection sitting heavy in your chest.

Maybe you shouldn't gotten your hopes up.

And then you heard the knock on your door. You already knew who it was.

He walked in like he always did, with a lazy grin and a snack in hand. You stared at him like you hadn’t just spent an hour trying to convince yourself you were worth showing up for.

“Yo. You were gone,” he said, tossing a drink on your desk like usual. “Didn’t text me back. Something happened?”

You looked up from where you sat on your bed, your voice dull. “No. I just… needed some air.”

He paused. The grin faltered, but only for a split second.

“…Did you go somewhere?”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “Just errands. Nothing interesting.”

He didn’t question it. He trusted you too easily. Or maybe he didn’t want to push. Instead, he stretched out beside you, letting out a sigh. “People are exhausting. I don’t get how you deal with them.”

You shrugged, keeping your voice light. “Guess I just have more patience.”

He turned his head to look at you then—really looked. Eyes soft, searching.

“You okay?”

You smiled, quick and small. “Yeah. Just tired.”

And that was the thing with him. He’d always pull back just when he was about to see something too real. Like he was afraid of what he might find if he looked too closely.

So, he let it go.

He reached for the controller on your desk, tossing it in your lap. “Wanna game ‘til we pass out?”

You nodded.

Because what else could you do?

You couldn’t tell him your date never showed up. You couldn’t tell him that for a brief moment, you thought maybe—just maybe—you could be wanted by someone else. That someone else could make you forget the way he made you feel without ever touching you.

***

Of course, he knew.

He always knew.

He noticed the shift before you even realized it yourself—how you started texting a little less when he was around, how you smiled down at your phone and quickly locked it when he leaned over. How you’d hum that soft little tune you always did when you were nervous or excited.

It didn’t take much.

One glance at your screen while you left it unattended. One name. One stupid string of texts about Friday and coffee and maybe I’ll see you there? :)

And it pissed him off more than he wanted to admit.

Not because he thought you weren’t allowed to date. Not even because he thought the guy was anything special.

No.

It was because you thought someone else could understand you better than he did. That someone else could earn what he’d spent years protecting.

You didn’t know it, but he was the reason most guys never got near you in the first place.

He wasn’t exactly subtle—especially in high school. Any guy who so much as looked at you too long got “the talk.” A casual hand around your shoulders. A stare that went a little too cold. A whispered “She’s not interested” even if you hadn’t said it yourself.

He made it hard for anyone to approach. On purpose.

Because you were his.

Not in the possessive, boyfriend kind of way. At least, that’s what he told himself. But in the I know every part of you, and no one else ever will kind of way.

So when this new guy started sniffing around, he didn’t wait.

He caught the guy behind the gym after class, right where the hallway cameras didn’t reach.

The guy flinched when he turned the corner and saw him standing there—arms crossed, calm smile on his face like this was just another casual run-in. But his eyes… his eyes were cold.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, stepping into his path.

The guy hesitated, confused. “Uh. Hey?”

“You’ve been texting her.”

The guy blinked, caught off guard. “I—what?”

He took another step closer. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been trying to take her out. Planning something for Friday, right? Café date?”

The guy laughed nervously, confused. “Yeah? I mean… she said yes.”

That smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah. She’s nice like that.”

Then the smile dropped.

“But let’s get one thing straight.”

The guy’s brows pulled together. “What are you—?”

He grabbed the front of his collar, shoving him hard against the wall, voice dropping low and sharp.

“You’re not gonna show up.”

The guy froze. “What the hell is your problem?!”

“I don’t like repeating myself.” He leaned in close, breath calm and voice terrifyingly even. “You’re going to leave her alone. You’re going to block her. And you’re never going to speak to her again.”

“You’re insane—!”

He smiled again, twisting the guy’s shirt tighter. “No. You’re stupid. See, here’s the thing. I’m the popular guy. Good grades. Everyone loves me.” He tilted his head, voice dropping even further. “You? You’re a background character. No one’s gonna believe some awkward little shit over me. You tell anyone I threatened you, and all I have to do is smile and say, ‘Who, me?’ And everyone will laugh and move on.”

He let go with a shove, stepping back as the guy gasped, fixing his shirt.

“You can call it jealousy. Obsession. Whatever makes you feel better,” he said, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve. “But here’s what it really is, I’m not letting someone like you anywhere near her.”

The guy stared at him, chest heaving.

He walked away with a casual wave. “Don’t forget. Friday? You’re busy~”

The guy didn’t show up.

And that night, when he dropped by your room and found you curled up and quiet, wearing his hoodie like a safety blanket, something in his chest twisted.

You didn’t say a word about it.

But he knew.

He could see the flicker of hurt behind your eyes. The soft smile you gave him—fake, practiced. The way you brushed him off like it didn’t matter. He wanted to feel satisfied. Victorious.

But it just made him feel worse.

Because no matter how much he tried to control things… he couldn’t stop that sadness in your eyes.

You didn’t even know it was him. Didn’t even know that all this time, the reason you felt so overlooked, so invisible was because he’d made sure of it.

Not because he wanted to hurt you. But because he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else seeing what he saw.

You were his quiet. His warmth. His constant.

And if someone else took that away from him?

He didn’t know who he’d be.

***

It started small.

You noticed it when you caught him glaring at someone you’d only spoken to once. When your texts started mysteriously going unanswered. When people who used to be friendly now looked at you like they didn’t want to get involved.

At first, you thought you were just overthinking it. Paranoia, maybe. You were introverted, bad at reading people. You kept to yourself more often than not, maybe that just meant people naturally faded away.

But then there were moments.

Moments where you caught the sharpness behind his smile when someone mentioned another guy’s name. Moments where his “jokes” about being possessive didn’t feel so funny anymore. Moments where he looked at you too long, too quietly, like he was thinking something he couldn’t say out loud.

And then that night—everything shifted.

He was in your room again. Like always. Sprawled out on your bed, head resting against your pillow like it belonged to him. You were on your floor, flipping through old game cases, trying to ignore the heavy beat of your heart.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, tone light but eyes tracking every move you made.

You shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You didn’t answer right away. You didn’t really know how to. Your mind had been a mess lately, spinning with everything you didn’t understand. Everything you were starting to understand.

“Do you…” you hesitated, eyes on the case in your hand. “Do you ever think people avoid me because of you?”

He sat up. Slowly.

“Where’s that coming from?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “It just feels like… people don’t even try anymore.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he stood. Walked over. Sat beside you on the floor, shoulder brushing yours. You didn’t look at him. You felt like you couldn’t.

You looked up at him, finally and your breath caught.

He was quiet for a second. Then he said, voice low, “Maybe I like it that way.”

And then he kissed you.

Because his eyes weren’t teasing. They were serious. Dark. Familiar in a way that suddenly felt foreign.

Just like that.

No warning. No permission.

His lips were on yours—soft, warm, dangerous. It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was sure. Like he’d been waiting. Like he’d done it a thousand times in his head already.

You froze.

For a second, your brain short-circuited. Everything blanked. Your body didn’t know whether to lean in or pull away. Because you’d thought about this before. God, had you thought about it. Wondered, dreamed, ached over it. But now that it was real…

You remembered the girls. The rumors. The way he never looked twice at them after he got bored.

You pulled back, breath catching. “Don’t.”

He blinked at you, surprised, maybe even a little hurt.

You stood, fast. Hands shaking. “You should go.”

He didn’t move.

Instead, he gave you a small, crooked smile. The kind you used to find charming. The kind that now made your stomach twist.

“Why?” he said softly. “I wanna stay the night.”

You stared at him.

He tilted his head, like this was all just a game, “We can play boyfriend and girlfriend again,” he said, voice low, teasing. “Like we used to when we were kids. Remember that?”

You took a step back. “That was pretend.”

“So~?” He stood too now, closing the space between you. “Let’s pretend again. This time I won’t leave.”

Your chest tightened.

You want to push him away, your mind reeling with the memories of him being a playboy.

“I said you should go,” you repeated, trying to keep your voice firm.

And you hated that your heart skipped. That your body remembered the kiss more than your mind could process it. But your gut? Your gut screamed something was wrong. You took another step back, putting space between you.

He didn’t move. His eyes tracked you like prey, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface.

"You used to let me sleep over all the time," he said softly, like he was reminding you of a rule you were suddenly breaking. “What changed?”

Everything, you wanted to say.

But instead, your voice came out smaller than you intended. “That was when we were kids.”

A slow grin tugged at his lips—but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was something darker. Almost sad.

“You’re acting like I’m a stranger.”

You clenched your fists, unsure why your throat felt tight. “You are. Lately... I don’t know what you are.”

Something in his jaw twitched. The grin dropped.

And then, suddenly he stepped forward.

You barely had time to flinch before you felt his hands on your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you backward. Your knees hit the edge of your bed. You stumbled. Sat down.

His body was close. Too close.

Your breath hitched.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he murmured, crouching slightly so he could look you in the eyes. “I’d never hurt you. You know that, right?”

You nodded slowly, heart hammering. But the unease wouldn’t leave.

He placed a hand beside your thigh on the bed, leaning in.

“Then why are you shaking?”

You didn't answer.

Because part of you didn’t know if it was fear… or something else. Something even more dangerous—doubt.

You tried to stand again, but he didn’t move back. He was watching you too closely. Like he was trying to read your mind. Like he already knew what was in it.

"I know you're confused," he said. "But deep down, you've always felt something too. I just had the guts to do something about it."

You opened your mouth, to argue, to tell him to leave again but nothing came out. Instead, you whispered, "I don't know what you're doing anymore."

His expression cracked for a moment—something bitter bleeding through.

“I’m doing what I should’ve done a long time ago.”

And for the first time, he didn’t try to mask it.

[rawrfrferrari]

The One Who Stayed | CS55

Plot: Y/n is Charles' ex but their families have been friends since even before they were born. Arthur is attached to Y/n like a brother and is not happy with his brother and his new girlfriend. After a few family events Y/n couldn't bear the uneasy atmosphere with the new couple and the hate by Charles fans, so she distances herself from them and finds herself a new man who treats her right.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x girlfriend!reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, SMAU.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[Request and Taglist] [Masterlist]

CARLOS' APARTMENT, MONACO - MAY 2024

Things with Carlos had been going really well. He was a gentleman, attentive, kind, and always present in the ways that mattered. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how different this relationship felt compared to her previous one.

Charles had known her since childhood, but he never really made the effort to understand her as the woman she'd become. To him, she was still the same Y/N from their younger days. He believed he was the only one with a packed schedule, expecting her to always be there for him like everyone else in his life, yet rarely offering her the same in return.

Carlos was the opposite. He listened. He noticed the little things. He carved out time for them, even when he was busy. He was everything Charles never was and everything Y/N had been longing for.

The smell of freshly cooked carbonara filled the air, crisp and warm against the soft clatter of Y/N’s fingers on her keyboard. She was working on Carlos’ kitchen island with a plate of cake by her side while reviewing a company's project objective file.

Behind her, in the kitchen of his sleek Monaco apartment, Carlos stood in a navy t-shirt and joggers, stirring the carbonara sauce with a relaxed ease that only came with confidence and practice.

“I swear,” she muttered, not looking up, “if I read another line that says ‘elevate the brand experience’ I’m going to start screaming into the void.”

Carlos laughed from the kitchen. “I don’t know what that means and I never want to find out.”

“That’s because you drive cars for a living,” she replied dryly, highlighting another paragraph in pale yellow.

He peeked around the kitchen island, brow raised. “And yet, here I am, making my you infamous carbonara while you” he waved the tongs at her playfully, “ignore me for some corporate shit. I deserve a reward.”

“You’ll get a Michelin star before you get my full attention during a client week,” she teased.

Carlos set the pan aside and walked over, resting his hands on the back of the couch behind her. He leaned down, lips brushing her temple. “Then I’ll settle for your mom’s approval. That’s harder, no?”

She smiled and twisted slightly to look at him. “Speaking of…” She hesitated, clicking her laptop shut. “She asked if you’d want to come to family dinner on Thursday.”

Carlos tilted his head. “Right before the race weekend?”

She nodded. “It’s sort of tradition now. My parents, Leclercs. The usual group.”

“Charles will be there.” He didn’t say it like a question.

She pressed her lips together. “Yeah. And his girlfriend.”

Carlos didn’t flinch. He just nodded, as if he expected it. “I’ll be there.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, watching him carefully. “I don’t know how he’s going to be...”

Carlos sat on the edge of the couch, facing her fully. “You think I’m worried about Charles?”

“I think I’m worried about Charles,” she corrected gently. “I don’t want to cause more drama, especially not in front of our families.”

He reached out and took her hand. “He moved on a month after breaking up with you. A month, cariño. He doesn't get to have opinions now.”

“I know,” she said, softer. “It’s just… It’s weird, isn’t it? Like, I’ve been around their family for years. This isn’t just me bringing a new guy to the family table. It’s his teammate and one of his best friends.”

Carlos squeezed her hand. “That’s not your weight to carry.”

She looked down at their hands, thumb brushing across his knuckles. “Lorenzo and Arthur might corner you.”

Carlos grinned. “Let them.”

“I mean it,” she said, half-laughing, half-wincing. “Arthur especially. He’ll try to make you uncomfortable. And ask a lot of questions.”

“Well,” he said, pretending to straighten his posture like a nobleman, “then I’ll give them a very noble and honest answer. ‘I’m dating your sister because she makes my life easier to breathe in.’”

She flushed. “Don’t say that. They’ll never let me live it down.”

“Fine. I’ll say it just to you,” Carlos said with a smirk, brushing his thumb under her chin. “You think I’m scared of your brothers? Y/N, I’ve handled Ferrari strategy meetings. Nothing is scarier than that.”

She laughed then, a genuine one she forgot how to for a while, and leaned into him, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

“I just don’t want this to feel like… I don’t know. Like we’re taking jabs at him by existing.”

Carlos’s voice was calm, sure. “We’re not jabbing anyone. We’re just living. If he can’t handle seeing you happy, that’s on him. Not you.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. Family dinner it is.”

He stood again, walking back to the kitchen. “You’ll see,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll charm the whole family. I know they already love me but...” He casually shrugged.

“You’re too confident.”

Carlos just grinned and plated the pasta. “No, I just have the best reason to be.”

yourusername

CARLOS' APARTMENT, MONACO - MAY 2024

The sunlight poured into Carlos’ apartment in golden streams, soft and diffused through the linen curtains.

It was early, maybe too early for the way they'd stayed up the night before, laughing under the covers, whispering about everything and nothing between sleepy kisses, his hands constantly tucked around her waist like she was something he wasn’t ready to let go of.

Y/N woke up first. Carlos was still tangled in the sheets, one hand resting open against her side of the bed, the other tucked under his cheek like a boy.

She smiled, brushing a bit of hair from his forehead before slipping out from under the duvet. He barely stirred, just pulled the pillow closer and let out the softest breath.

She padded barefoot across the cool floor, his oversized shirt hanging off her frame. The apartment was quiet, except for the low hum of the city waking up outside. Y/N tied her hair up lazily and headed to the kitchen.

Phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, she stirred batter slowly in a mixing bowl, a half-empty milk coffee by her elbow on the counter.

“Wait. You stayed in?” her best friend’s voice crackled through the speaker.

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly, flipping a whisk in her hand. “Of course I stayed. You act like this is a crime.”

"How was it?" her best friend replied.

Y/N chuckled under her breath. “We haven't reached that stage yet. We fell asleep talking about his new contract offers. He is also considering to be a professional golfer at this point.”

There was a pause. “Of course he did.”

Y/N was mid-laugh when she felt familiar arms slide around her waist. She glanced over her shoulder as Carlos pressed a slow, lazy kiss to her shoulder, then another just below her neck.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.

“You’re awake,” she said, smiling as she muted the call briefly. “You were snoring when I left.”

“I don’t snore,” he murmured against her skin, tightening his hold just a little.

“You kind of do.”

He looked at the phone in her hand. “Is that who I think it is?”

Y/N unmuted the call. “He says hi.”

“Hola,” Carlos said clearly toward the phone, smirking, before walking around the counter to grab a piece of banana from the cutting board.

“Tell him to keep his mouth off the produce and get real food,” her best friend replied dryly.

Carlos raised a brow. “Rude.”

“She loves you,” Y/N said casually. “She’s just territorial.”

After she ended the call, Carlos reached for her coffee and took a sip. “Mmm. Tastes like shit. How do you even like this. It's so sweet...” She rolled her eyes. He leaned back against the counter. “Also, Lando’s coming over.”

Y/N blinked. “You invited him?”

“His call woke me up. He's probably bringing Albono as well.”

“I just wanted some us time. Your side chick had to interfere." Y/N huffed and turned back to the bowl, grabbing the flour again. “Fine. I’ll double the ingredients.”

He came up behind her again, pressing another kiss to her temple. “Triple it. You know how much those idiot eats.”

“I should’ve stayed in bed,” she muttered.

“You should always stay in our bed,” he whispered softly, so close to her ear she stilled for a second before being giggly.

yourusername

CARLOS' APARTMENT, MONACO - MAY 2024

Pancakes were stacked high on ceramic plates, golden and soft, fresh off the pan.

Carlos came up behind her, slow and quiet, keeping his phone aside on the counter. Before she could speak, he turned her toward him and kissed her.

It started slow but she should’ve known it wouldn’t stay that way. It never did with him.

He lifted her effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, her legs parting to accommodate his body between them, one arm bracing her back as the other slid under the shirt she borrowed from him, riding just above her thighs. His palm met the warm skin of her waist and his touch was so certain, so proprietary, like he knew she belonged there.

“Carlos,” she breathed, head tilting back as his mouth trailed down her neck. “They’ll be here soon.”

“He'll ring the bell,” he mumbled against her collarbone.

His kisses turned feverish, hands gripping her thighs as her fingers tangled in his hair. She wasn’t sure when the edge blurred — the taste of him, the way he kept whispering her name like it was a confession, the sound of her soft gasps echoing between them — but the world had narrowed to just this moment.

Until the front door clicked open.

And someone coughed. "I. um had the spare key..." Lando muttered. They jolted apart like teenagers caught red-handed.

Y/N’s heart froze mid-beat as she registered the trio standing at the threshold of the kitchen, Lando, Alex, and Charles.

Lando’s expression was a mix of sheer awkwardness and panic, while Alex tried to respectfully stare at the fridge. But it was Charles who looked like someone had just punched the air out of him.

He stared. Eyes sharp. Jaw clenched. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

And then he lunged at Carlos, “Charles, no!” Y/N yelled, but it was too late.

Carlos barely got a word out before Charles tackled him against the wall, fists colliding into his shoulder and side. Y/N was shoved aside in the chaos as ceramic plates shifted on the counter. She scrambled up from where she hit the ground and grabbed at Charles’ shirt, trying to pull him off.

“Charles, STOP!” she cried.

Carlos cursed in Spanish, trying to hold Charles back without hitting him. Lando and Alex finally dove in, one grabbing Charles' arms, the other trying to get between the two of them.

Breathless and furious, Carlos shouted, "What the fuck is your problem?!"

Charles spat back, voice shaking, “My problem?! You invited me here to give me this show, huh! Kissing my ex, for revenge like its my fault ferrari dropped you!!”

“She’s not yours, Charles!” Carlos barked.

“You’re my teammate! And you—” he pointed toward Y/N, face twisted in betrayal, “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Y/N stood there, chest heaving, hair wild, heart pounding in her ears and something snapped. She stepped forward. “No what the fuck is wrong with you!” she hissed, her voice low but venomous. “You don’t get to explode in my life like this. After you fucked everything up.”

Charles froze mid-breath. She kept going.

“You left me. You didn’t fight for me. And you moved on. One month after we broke up, you were all over the internet with her like I never mattered. I stayed quiet. I respected your choice. I even distanced myself from MY family because of you and your pathetic girlfriend's insecurities.”

Her voice cracked but she didn’t stop. “You can parade your new life around but the second I find someone who makes me feel again, who actually treats me like I’m worth staying for, this is what you do? You fight him in his own kitchen like you’re entitled to something you threw away?”

Charles blinked, jaw locked, lips parted slightly, speechless. “This isn’t about Carlos trying to take revenge because of what your team is doing to him,” she added, her voice softer now, firmer. “This is about the fact that for the first time since we ended, I’m happy. And you can't see me happy, Charles.”

Silence. Lando let go of Charles’ arm slowly. Carlos exhaled, finally looking up with Alex next to him holing his shoulder.

Charles stood still for a moment. Then something in his eyes broke. shame? anger? regret? Maybe all of it. Without a word, he turned and stormed out the door.

Y/N stood there, frozen. Her chest was rising and falling like she’d just run a marathon. Carlos stepped toward her slowly, hands tentative like she might break. But she didn’t.

Instead she walked straight past the three into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Carlos stood outside it for a minute, maybe more, just listening to the muffled sound of her sobs. They weren’t loud anymore, not the sharp, broken cries from earlier, but that kind of deep, aching weep that came from someplace far beyond anger. It was grief. And exhaustion.

He didn’t knock. Just quietly turned the handle and stepped in.

She was curled up on the bed, her face buried in the pillow, shoulders trembling. Her fists were tight near her chest like she was holding herself together.

Carlos’s chest ached. Wordless, he sat on the edge of the bed and gently touched her back before sliding his hand under her head and lifting it onto his lap. Her face was damp and flushed, skin warm from the crying, but she didn’t resist.

She melted into him like her body remembered safety in his arms.

The sobs didn’t stop immediately. But they slowed. Her breathing began to steady into deep, ragged inhales. He threaded his fingers through her hair again and again, occasionally pressing his palm flat between her shoulder blades rubbing it softly. He didn’t say anything. Just held her while she fell apart.

After a few minutes, he leaned down and whispered, “C’mere,” gently pulling her upright and into his lap.

Y/N folded into him without hesitation, her arms locking tight around his neck, her entire weight leaning into him like he was the only thing keeping her from collapsing again. She didn’t even try to speak, she just held him, her face buried in the crook of his shoulder.

Carlos rested his chin on her head. “Look at me, baby” he whispered, inhaling slow.

She let go, just slightly, when his hands came up to frame her face. Her eyes were glossy, her lashes clumped, her cheeks flushed red.

Carlos wiped under her eyes with his thumbs and held her jaw gently, steadying her.

“Oh, Mi Amor., estoy aquí” he said quietly. [My love, I'm here.]

She tried to smile, but it quivered. He leaned forward and kissed her shyly.

Then he reached beside him for a glass of water from the bedside table. “Drink,” he murmured.

She took it, sipping slowly, her hands held the glass like a child does.

Just as she finished drinking, there was a light knock on the door. Then it opened a crack.

“Hey,” Alex Albon said, stepping halfway in with a tray, “I brought your plate. Thought you might want to eat in here but… no pressure.”

Y/N sat up straighter, blinking hard. “Thanks, Al.”

Carlos helped her shift off his lap as she pulled the hem of the oversized shirt lower. She cleared her throat, still a bit hoarse. “We’ll come eat outside.”

AMAZONICO RESTRAUNT, MONACO - MAY 2024

The restaurant was quiet and elegant, tucked into a discreet street in Monaco.

Carlos and Y/n drove to the venue together. Since people in Monaco recognised Carlos and y/n individually, them arriving together would cause people to record and gossip was sure to follow. Even tho they chose private entry, Y/n saw people recording them during the ride there.

The table was set for eleven in private rooftop setting, the lighting warm and the conversation already flowing when Y/N and Carlos arrived.

Y/N’s parents were already seated across from Arthur and Jade, sipping wine and laughing at something Lorenzo had just said. Charlotte was beside him, one hand looped loosely around his arm, her expression relaxed and content.

Arthur raised his eyebrows when he saw them approach, eyes flickering between Y/N and Carlos. She met his gaze and gave him a quiet nod. Arthur offered Carlos a short smile, nothing overly enthusiastic, but not cold either.

Carlos pulled out Y/N’s chair before sitting beside her, resting his hand for a moment on the back of her seat. It was subtle, but grounding. She smiled softly at the gesture.

Dinner began with an effortless rhythm. Conversation bounced between weekend plans and racing logistics, with occasional laughter when Jade made dry observations about their group dynamic. Carlos held his own easily, engaging in relaxed small talks with Y/N’s father.

Just then, the energy shifted. The server pulled back the door slightly, and Charles entered with Alexandra. They were late, but not enough to call attention. Still, every eye turned.

Charles gave a tight smile. "Sorry we’re late. Traffic."

"In Monaco?" Charlotte quipped lightly. Lorenzo elbowed her.

Alexandra greeted Pascale and Charlotte with polite kisses, then made her way around the table. She paused slightly before Y/N and Carlos. “Hi,” she said with a smoothness that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey,” Y/N returned, offering a small smile.

Carlos gave a nod, polite but unreadable. "Bonsoir."

The seating fell into a strange rhythm, Charles, Alexandra, then Charlotte and Lorenzo, with Jade, Arthur, Y/N, and Carlos forming the opposite arc.

Alexandra seemed to struggle to join conversations. The girls tried, genuinely, to include her but the replies were clipped.

Meanwhile, Carlos and Y/N settled into their own easy rhythm. She passed him her plate when the picked out mushrooms piled in the corner of her plate. She looked at him like a pleading child for him to take it away off her plate.

He scooped the mushrooms without question. “More for me.”

She leaned in, eyes soft. “You’ll eat anything.”

He nudged. “Hey!” and teasingly brought a forkful of mushrooms near her mouth making her cringe.

They whispered between themselves, exchanging inside jokes. When dessert came around, Y/n had finished hers quickly and now kept stealing spoons from Carlos’s crème brûlée.

“You know,” he said around his fourth stolen bite, “you could just order another.”

She grinned. “Yours tastes better. And You shouldn't be having this, I'll tell Gigi."

"You wouldn't" His unoccupied hand lingered its way on her thigh.

"you bet!" She chuckled wiping her mouth with a tissue paper.

Eventually, the check came. The server approached discreetly, and Charles reached into his pocket for his card at the same time Carlos stood to do the same.

“I’ve got it,” Charles said flatly.

Carlos didn’t miss a beat. “Appreciate it, but it’s mine tonight.”

“You're the guest. I'll get this one” Charles looked up, tone cool.

Carlos gave a neutral smile. “Come on mate. Let me get this o.”

The server stood awkwardly between them. Y/N sipped her water slowly.

“I insist,” Charles said again, more firmly.

Carlos leaned slightly forward, still composed. “So do I. Unless we want to split the bill in front of everyone.”

Arthur raised a brow, glancing between them. Y/N’s mother cleared her throat. “Boys.”

Charles eventually leaned back in his chair. “Fine.”

Carlos nodded and handed over his card without another word.

The walk out of the restaurant was less tense. The tension had been aired out, silently. Alexandra walked slightly ahead of Charles, who still hadn’t said much. Meanwhile, Y/N walked closely beside Carlos, her arm brushing against his as he reached for her hand casually.

Outside, Pascale pulled Y/N into a soft hug. “You look good together, mon coeur.”

Y/N smiled against her shoulder. “Thank you, mamam.”

Arthur stepped up beside Carlos as they waited for the cars to be brought around. “You handled that well.”

Carlos glanced over. “I didn’t come for a fight.”

“No,” Arthur nodded, looking over at his brother. “But you got one anyway.”

Carlos offered a half smile. “Worth it.” Arthur and jade bid their farewell. Carlos got inside after opening the door for Y/n and drove off.

yourusername

story 2 caption: Alcohol Menace

f1wagsgossip

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f1wagsgossip Carlos Sainz and Y/N L/N spotted in Monaco heading to the Leclerc–L/N family dinner tonight 

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formulawtf1 Not them actually making it official with the family 💀

carlossimp_55 The way he looks at her 🫠 I’m just here melting.

username1 ngl carlos and y/n look happy as hell. can't be mad at that.

charlesbabyy16 Wait wasn’t this supposed to be a LECLERC family dinner???

paddockconfessions Someone check on Charles 😭

alexafan98 Why does she always steal attention at everything? This wasn’t even about her.

wagsofficialtea Girl served us with a lbd while he comes in an puma tee 😭

sainz55fever Carlos driving her there like a proper husband. My Roman Empire 🥹

leclercsuniverse No because imagine the tension. Pascale must be exhausted.

alexaloversclub She's trying to get Charles back by fiddling with is teammate and friend. Such a despo....

CARLOS' APARTMENT, MONACO - MAY 2024

The bedroom was dim, just the low amber glow of the bedside lamp pooling on the sheets and the soft hum of the city muffled beyond thick windows.

Y/N lay nestled beside Carlos, her leg draped lazily over his and her cheek pressed into his chest. His fingers stroked idle patterns on her arm, occasionally slipping into her hair.

They had been quiet for a while. Comfortable in the kind of silence that only came when you knew there was nothing you needed to say to be understood.

Then Carlos spoke, voice low but steady. “I don't even know how I want tomorrow to go.”

Y/N shifted her head slightly to look at him with her eyebrows scrunched.

He shook his head once. "The team will make me defend Charles if I overtake Piastri. A part of me wants to overlook and try to win myself.”

She didn’t say anything immediately. She just reached up and gently brushed her thumb over his cheekbone. “That would be a bad idea, Chilli. I am not saying this with regard to Charles but a lot could go wrong if you mess with him, You could get out of the race or fall behind because He doesnt really like you right now. I don't want this to affect your race."

Carlos sighed and she propped up on her elbow to stabilise herself while his hands still coddled her, "You okay?” She ran her hands over his torso to ease his anxiety.

Carlos gave a small smile. “Honestly? I don’t know yet.” He sighed. “I'm kind of glad to leave now. Couldn't stay much longer losing my potential to cater to their prince.”

She nodded. “What have you thought about the next season?”

He turned slightly to face her better. “I got a few offers.”

That made her eyebrows lift. “Already?”

He nodded. “ Williams offered first and I almost took it over Kick Sauber. But I got a call from Flavio, last Monday. I am really confused now. Caco is running around the offers.”

Y/N blinked. “What are you leaning toward?” she asked.

He hesitated. “I don’t know. Sauber’s tempting, good money, Audi coming in. Alpine is desperate for leadership, is what I've perceved from my call with Flavio. Papa thinks it's a risky business with him. Williams… they’re still building. But they’ve got James Vowles now. And Alex is doing solid work.”

She propped herself up slightly, resting her chin on her hand as she looked down at him. “Williams has potential. They’d invest good in you.”

Carlos looked at her, eyes scanning hers thoughtfully. “That’s what I was thinking. James wants a long-term lead driver. It wouldn’t be a top car next year… but maybe by 2026, it’s a different story.”

She nodded. “That’s the thing. Short-term might sting a little, but you’d be building toward something. And I agree with your father, I don't have a good feeling for Alpine.”

Carlos ran a hand through his hair. “Anyways, Did your boss initiate the promotion after the meeting?” he asked lightly, but something in his voice made it clear he meant it.

She smiled. “I was going to tell you after the race tomorrow. We had a meeting regarding this and they have a few spots where I can fill in. They want to open an office here in Monaco and want me to look after it.”

"When are you moving?"He asked absently while thinking.

It was getting colder so Y/n pulled up the blanket over them, " End of the quarter. They're yet to finish the interior of the office."

"Umm.. Do you have your own place here?"

"I lived with mama and dad till high school, then I moved out for university, I only come back for vacations so It didn't feel necessary to get my own place." She shook her head.

"Cariño, I don't want to sound too forward and it's okay if you say no because it's too soon, but will you consider moving in here? with me?" She moved closer over him, thinking for a while.

"Are you sure? I mean I don't want you to feel obligated."

"Baby, I want you here with me." He caressed her head.

"I'll have to have a talk with my parents first. I don't want the to think it otherwise." He excitedly rolled over and onto her, kissing her face.

He looked at her for a beat, then pulled her into his arms again, exhaling slowly like her answer had settled something in him. “Gracias, cariño.”

“For what?”

“For being here with me. For everything.”

He pressed a kiss to her collarbone. “Thank you Carlos, You've made a lot of things easier for me. I wouldn't even consider moving back if it wasn't for you, mama and dad.”

She knew she had a lot of people here supporting her but she didn't want her past to pull her back again and again. and she was delighted by Carlos' offer as it provided her with the mental space she wouldn't have much at her parents' place and the security she would be skeptical about living alone.

He shifted himself slightly so that he was leaning over her face now, his hand gently stroking her jaw.

“You’ve made the last few months bearable, you know?” he murmured. “When everything else was noise, you felt like peace.”

She smiled, brushing her fingers through the ends of his hair. “You give me peace too. And chaos, sometimes. But mostly peace.”

He laughed softly. “Tomorrow’s your first Monaco GP cheering for me.”

“I’ve always cheered for you and Ferrari,” she said quietly. “But yeah. Tomorrow, I’m solely with #55.”

His eyes glinted. “You were always fast to pick the winning team.”

“I pick you, not teams,” she said seriously. “And if Williams ends up being that, I’ll still be there.”

Carlos grinned and leaned in to kiss her, slow and soft. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Let's get some sleep, Shall we?" She ruffled his hair as he plopped next to her and pulled her closer.

kymillman

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kymillman Y/N L/N in the paddock today for the Monaco Grand Prix with @/scuderiaferrari.

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sainzysgirl Monegasque queen energy.

username1 Anyways where’s Carlos tho 👀

y/n.nation She's BACKKKK !!!!!!

teamalexandra Girl got no self respect 🫡 and what's with that outfit 🤮

gridicons Girl!!! We missed you sm 🥺

y/nstyledaily Slayed corp girlie look ❤️

username2 Not a fan but she’s not hurting anyone. Let the girl live.

charlesbabygirl13 she’s literally his EX can we stop giving her main character energy

cs55fanclub Power couple content when?

username3 girl if I broke up with my ex and started dating his teammate I’d just stay home ngl

GRAND PRIX CIRCUIT, MONACO - MAY 2024

The paddock buzzed with a kind of chaos only Monaco knew how to host. The Ferrari suite was polished, exclusive, and tense for the race.

Y/N walked in alongside her mother, both elegantly dressed—Y/N in a tailored waistcoat and trousers with a handbag perched up her arm.

As she entered, Pascale turned with a soft smile. “Ma chérie, you look beautiful.”

“Merci, Pascale. You too.” Y/N kissed both her cheeks warmly, then greeted Lorenzo, Charlotte, and Arthur, offering a gentle hug to Jade who was at his side.

“Hi, babe,” Y/N greeted Jade. “You look amazing.”

“You too,” Jade smiled, then lowered her voice. “Hey, has Charlotte been weird with you too, or just me?”

Y/N glanced up just in time to see Charlotte whisper something into Alexandra’s ear before both of them giggled and turned away.

“Hmm,” Y/N murmured. “You're not imagining it.”

After a short round of greetings, she excused herself and made her way toward Caco, Carlos’s cousin and manager, who was fiddling with one of the headsets on the side table.

“Buenos días, hermana!” he grinned, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Buenos días, Caco. How's everything looking?” Y/N smirked.

He laughed. “P3 is ours but if the strategy plays right we might be looking at p2, Sólo si se centran también en el chilli.”

He reached over to the staff holding another headset. He handed her one with a knowing smile. “This is for you. Connected to Carlos’ radio.”

Y/N blinked, touched. “Thanks Caco.”

Across the room, Charlotte leaned into Alexandra’s ear. “She has a headset? Seriously? Technically you should have one...”

Alexandra narrowed her eyes. “She’s not media. Not family either.”

Charlotte hesitated. “Technically, she’s been around longer than I have.”

“But she’s not dating Charles anymore.” Alexandra crossed her arms. “That headset’s inappropriate.”

“Wanna say that to Caco?” Jade said from behind them, a cold edge in her tone. “Or do you just prefer whispering and making people uncomfortable from a distance?”

Charlotte turned, caught off guard. “Relax,” Alexandra muttered. “We were just surprised.”

“Well, don’t be,” Y/N said, approaching with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Caco cleared it. But if there’s a line I’ve crossed, please, submit it in writing.”

“Y/N,” Charlotte said tightly, “don’t make this into something it’s not.”

“Oh? You’ve been ghosting me since christmas. And backing up someone who's get my seconds.”

Charlotte’s face flushed.

Jade, behind her, whispered to Arthur, “God, I love when she gets spicy.”

Caco laughed under his breath.

Before things could escalate further, Carlos’s engineer’s voice crackled through Y/N’s headset. “Radio check.”

Carlos followed, voice crisp. “Radio check, loud and clear. Let’s have some fun today.”

Alexandra rolled her eyes and stormed off with Charlotte following close behind. But not before Charlotte gave Y/N one last unreadable glance.

Y/N watched them leave, shook her head and focused on the race.

Charles had gotten the start of his life. The entire pit wall erupted when he held the lead into Sainte Dévote. Y/N smiled, a strange mix of pride and bittersweet ache threading through her chest. He deserved this. This was his home. And as a monasgasque she would feel proud of one winning the home race.

But her heart belonged elsewhere now, in the red blur chasing from P4. Carlos had been calm on the radio all day, never too aggressive, never too safe. By Lap 23, he overtook Norris with a clever undercut that had the crowd on their feet.

“Oscar’s holding strong,” Arthur muttered beside her.

Y/N nodded, eyes glued to the screen. “He’ll finish second if nothing goes wrong.”

“And Carlos?” Jade asked.

Y/N allowed herself the smallest smile. “Podium. He’s driving smart. He knows what he’s doing.”

The final few laps were pure tension. Charles still led, and Monaco’s tight walls refused to betray him this time. Y/N watched as he pulled ahead through the tunnel — smooth, surgical — like this win had always belonged to him.

As the chequered flag waved, the world around her erupted. “Charles Leclerc wins the Monaco Grand Prix!”

She exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for five years.

Beside her, Arthur pumped his fist. Lorenzo and Pascale were in tears. But Y/N… Y/N had already started moving. She pushed past the cluster of engineers, her credentials flashing as she weaved through the paddock and made her way toward Parc Fermé.

She reached just in time to see Carlos pulling himself out of the car, helmet in hand, curls damp with sweat. His eyes swept the crowd, and then landed on her.

“Y/N!” he called through the noise, a breathless grin breaking across his face. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before he was rushed to the cooldown room.

After a while the podium was arranged and Carlos came in followed by Oscar and Charles.

She was filming, her phone shaking slightly in her hands as she captured him receiving the trophy.

Once the podium ceremony was over, and the champagne had been sprayed, and the chaos had melted slightly into soft celebration, Y/N finally made her way to him.

“You were amazing,” she breathed, stepping into his arms.

Carlos didn’t hesitate. He dropped his cap somewhere between their feet and pulled her in tightly, kissing her without a word, his hands cradling her jaw like she was the only real thing left after the blur of the race.

Her laughter burst between kisses. “You’re sticky and you smell like champagne and engine oil.”

“Sexy, no?” he teased, his lips grazing her cheek.

“The sexiest,” she whispered.

She didn’t even realise they were being recorded until later, one of the paddock media cams zoomed in at just the right (or wrong) moment. The camera caught the curve of her smile, the tilt of Carlos’ head as he kissed her again, slower, deeper.

And it caught Charles in the background.

He was still in his race suit, still holding his helmet. There had been joy in his eyes a second ago. Pure, childlike joy that only winning Monaco could bring.

But the moment he saw her wrapped up in Carlos like nothing else in the world existed… it cracked something.

His smile faltered. Not dramatically. Just enough for the world to notice.

Carlos didn’t see. He was too focused on her. Whispering things against her hair, thanking her for being there, for believing in him when everything else in his world felt like it was shifting.

Y/N had noticed, though. She had seen Charles, standing not ten feet away, eyes dark with something he didn’t voice. And for the first time, she didn’t feel guilty.

Because this man in her arms, this podium they’d just shared in their own quiet way was hers. And she was his.

yourusername

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yourusername 🌶️💋🥉

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carlossainz55 P3 never felt this good.

→ yourusername 😘

landonorris that’s MY spicy man you’re posting about 🫡

→ yourusername In your dreams 😏

ynupdatesdaily We are fed.

carlosonoros Vamos 🥳🌶️

username1 Imagine cheering for your ex’s teammate. The audacity 😭

blancasainzv Let's go chilli ❤️

y/nstylediary My roman empire is Y/n filming Carlos' podium while in tears

username2 She didnt even spare Charles a glance.

cs55fanclub Mama Papa??

angelalexmleux She’s never gonna be the first lady of Ferrari 🤷🏻‍♀️

→ cary/nfc Former Ferrari First Lady, To be William's baddie with Lily 🫶🏽

→ the55girl Jokes on you, She did it first

scuderiaferrari #55 podiums are the best!!!

→ yourusername Every time 🤞🏼

carlosstyles Girl how did you survive when he winked at you while holding the trophy?

charleslecwife16 She was the curse! They broke up Charles won Monaco.

dramalamaf1 Girl knows the sport. Ask Alexandra if she knows what drs is 😂

leclercupdates She refused to get the family pic with Charles while her parents did 😞

wagsofficialtea Went to see the race. Came back traumatised from Charlotte dp ganging sides with Alexandra and leaving jade alone before y/n came. How fast can people you know since long can change colours 😭

CARLOS' APARTMENT, MONACO - MAY 2024

Carlos was standing shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror, still slightly damp from his shower, trying to make his hair behave. A brown t-shirt hung off the hook while he ran gel through his curls with serious concentration.

From the bedroom, Y/N peeked in, already wrapped in a plush towel with one eyebrow raised. “Are you… styling your hair for a club where everyone’s gonna be too drunk to even see straight?”

Carlos dropped the gel and grabbed her waist, spinning her around so fast she squealed.

“Put me down!” she giggled, legs kicking slightly. “I have eyeliner to fix and you’re messing with my process!”

“You’re perfect already,” he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “But I’m still winning the ‘Best Dressed’ award tonight.”

She snorted as he finally let her go. “with those pants? never” She pointed to the cream coloured lightly stripped pants.

"My style is iconic, Girls swoon over me for that.” He said dramatically.

“You once wore socks with tiny jamóns on them to a formal dinner.”

Carlos didn’t even blink. “Exactly. Iconic.”

Back in the bedroom, Y/N stood in front of the floor-length mirror, now in her shimmery dress, attempting to clasp the tiny gold necklace around her neck.

Carlos walked by, pausing mid-stride. “Wait, wait, no. Turn around.”

She obeyed. He gently took the necklace from her fingers, leaning down behind her as he fixed the clasp with care.

“You smell like vanilla, Is that a new perfume?” he mumbled.

She smirked, glancing at his reflection. “Yeah, Kika got it a while back. I almost forgot about it. Is it good?”

Carlos kissed her neck once before pulling away. “So good that we might not make it to the party.”

She chucked at his antiques and shuffled her hands inside her makeup bag, “Red or pink?” she asked picking up two lipsticks.

Carlos frowned like it was a life decision. “Pink. It goes with the green of your dress.”

Y/N applied the soft shade in the mirror. Carlos, already dressed and in his shoes, leaned against the door frame.

“You’re gonna make everyone be jealous of me,” he said sincerely, striding towards her slowly.

She looked up at him, knowing his intentions stopped him with her palm. “Stop. I just wore the lipstick!”

They kissed anyway, slow, laughing between kisses, makeup be damned.

Just then, her phone buzzed. A message from Lando: Tell loverboy to hurry up, the suite is getting packed.

Carlos peeked over her shoulder. “Tell him I’m doing important pre-party rituals.”

Y/N smirked. “Like getting kissed breathless?”

He kissed her one more time and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way."

JIMMY Z, MONACO - MAY 2024

The rooftop party buzzed with upbeat music and pulsing beats. Monaco shimmered below like spilled diamonds under the night sky. Inside the VIP suite, the who's who of motorsport danced, mingled, and celebrated.

Y/N had just walked back in from the balcony when she noticed Charlotte and Alexandra breaking off to the side with Martha, Charles’ friend’s wife.

"Hey, Y/n." She hugged the newcomer, "It's so good to see you. How's everything going?"

"Amazing. Works going great, Life's good too. How's our little Chiara doing? "

Martha was cradling a cocktail in one hand and showing off a baby photo on her phone.

“Chiara’s so big now!” Y/N beamed as she approached, placing a gentle hand on Martha’s shoulder. “Last time I saw her, she could barely hold her head up.”

Martha laughed. “She's a little devil.”

Y/N chuckled. “Tell her aunty Y/N sends kisses.” She squeezed Martha’s hand lightly before offering the other two a tight-lipped smile. “You ladies enjoy.”

She turned and left them there, not bothering to wait for Charlotte’s obligatory half-smile or Alexandra’s passive stare.

Across the suite, Jade was at the bar scanning the room until her eyes lit up. “Finally! I’ve been abandoned for five minutes and it’s already too long.”

“I was doing my social duty,” Y/N smirked, grabbing her by the arm. “Come on, let's dance.”

The girls made their way to the dance floor where Lando Norris had fully claimed the DJ booth, laughing into the mic with his longtime friend Marvin. Bright lights bounced off the marble walls as Kika joined them, dragging Y/N and Jade into a chaotic, joyful spiral of dancing.

They danced like no one was watching, arms in the air, shoes in their hands, drinks forgotten on a nearby ledge. Kika took her phone and filmed her friends having the time of their life.

Eventually, sweat-kissed and laughing, the girls retreated to the lounge tables where their boyfriends and friends had claimed a low booth. Kika and Jade had to return to where their boyfriends were, same booth as Charles.

Caco, Teto, Carlos, and Lando were seated, half-focused on the food and half-watching Y/n approach.

“Jesus,” Lando muttered, watching the trio walk toward them like the final act of a runway show. “You didn’t have to eat us alive like that.”

Y/N dropped into the seat next to Carlos, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed from dancing. “You’re just jealous you can’t handle this level of energy.”

“I DJ’d for an hour,” Lando protested. “I handled enough.”

Carlos wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “tired?”

“Mm. a little tipsy too. went all in with the tequila.”

He grinned, reaching over to grab a few fries from the basket in the center of the table. “Here. Eat.”

She opened her mouth obediently as he fed her a fry. “Mmm. This is the love I deserve.”

Carlos chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You'll get everything you deserve. I'll spoil you rotten.”

Teto smirked. “You two are either really cute or really annoying, I can’t decide.”

“You know what I miss?” Lando piped up, “Your best friend.”

Y/N smirked mid-bite. “Why? She's my bestie!”

“She ghosted me,” he huffed. “That’s violence.”

“She has taste,” Y/N deadpanned.

The table cracked up. Carlos laughed so hard he had to lean into her, burying his face into her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around him lazily, nuzzling the top of his head.

“I missed this,” he whispered.

She looked down, meeting his eyes. “Lando getting burned?”

“No,” he murmured. “Us.”

For a moment, it was just them, city noise fading under the soft music playing now. Champagne bottles popped somewhere behind them. Monaco’s magic was alive, and so were they.

And just as Y/N leaned in to kiss him again, Lando groaned loudly, “Alright, PDA time’s over. Let’s all remember I’m single and traumatized.”

Y/N threw a napkin at him without looking. “Get back to your mixer, DJ boy.”

Carlos laughed again, cheeks aching from how much he’d been smiling all night. “You’re dangerous, mi amor.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Mhmm, Be scared.”

yourusername

tagged: @/jadedistinguinn, @/kikagomez, @/carlossainz

CAFE DE PARIS, MONACO - MAY 2024

The sun was soft over the cobbled streets of old Monaco, casting long shadows and warm light through the café’s wide glass windows.

Y/N slid into the outdoor corner table first, sunglasses perched on her nose and a latte already half done.

Arthur arrived first, yawning behind his hand. “You look too alive for someone who danced like a lunatic last night.”

Y/N smirked, pushing a coffee toward him. “I’m built different. And what do you think the sunglasses are for?” She ordered for all three of them, knowing Arthur and Jade's choice.

“I’m barely built at all,” he muttered, sipping gratefully.

Jade bounced in, oversized tote bag over her shoulder and curls still damp from the shower. “What's the tea?”

“God, not drama,” Arthur groaned.

“No drama,” Y/N said, then corrected herself, “Okay, a little life shift.”

Jade’s brows lifted. “You’re pregnant?”

Arthur choked.

Y/N burst out laughing. “Oh my god, no! Why is that the first guess?”

“I don’t know!” Jade shrugged. “You and Carlos were quite... into each other, last night. Not exactly very subtle”

“I’m moving back,” Y/N said, smiling now. “To Monaco. next month.”

Arthur blinked. “Wait—what?”

Jade’s eyes went wide. “You’re moving back? As in, permanently?!”

Y/N nodded. “My boss offered me to supervise the new office here, as a promotion. And honestly…” She hesitated for just a second, “I miss this. The people. You guys.”

Arthur blinked a few times. “So, like… you’re really coming back?”

“I already told my parents,” she smiled. “And that I'll not be staying with them anymore.” she hinted, waiting for one of them to catch.

Jade practically bounced in her seat. “You’re moving in with Carlos?”

Y/N’s smile turned a little bashful. “Yeah. I’ll still be working remotely,” Y/N added, “but I won’t be attending many GPs. My calendar’s full with clients and a few long-term contracts. Might try to make it to Barcelona though, just to surprise him.”

Arthur shook his head. “Wow. You guys are not even together for half a year and you have your life planned. Oh mon Dieu, je suis tellement heureuse pour toi, ma sœur.” [Oh my god, I'm so happy for you, sister.]

Y/N reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You’re stuck with me.”

He tried to play it cool but his grin was too big. “Good. About time.”

Jade leaned forward. “Does Pascale know?”

“I think my mom told her,” Y/N said.

Jade’s eyes widened with realization. “Wait. Wait. If you go to Barcelona, are you meeting his parents?”

Y/N’s spoon clinked against her cup. “I mean… I already met them before."

Jade grinned, eyes lighting up. “So this’ll be the first time you meet them as his girlfriend?”

Y/N nodded slowly, swirling her coffee. “Yeah.”

Arthur tilted his head. “Are you nervous?”

She paused. “A little. I mean, they've known me as their son's teammates girlfriend and now I'm their son's. It feels weird.”

Jade tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do they know he’s serious about you?”

Y/N gave her a soft smile. “Apparently his mom keeps asking when I’ll come visit properly. And his sisters are active on my Instagram so...”

Arthur blinked. “Oh. That’s, serious serious.”

“It is,” Y/N agreed. “But it doesn’t feel overwhelming. With Carlos, everything just… makes sense.”

Arthur leaned back with a smug little smirk. “So when are you dropping the wedding bombshell?”

Y/N threw a napkin at him. “Arthur! We're just moving in together. We're in an early phase of our relationship.”

Jade, dramatically: “For now.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands. “Why do I even tell you two things?”

Arthur winked. “Because you love us.”

“Unfortunately,” she groaned.

jade_distinguinn

story 1 tagged: @/yourusername, @/arthur_leclerc

story 2 caption: Mother

CARLOS' APARTMENT, MONACO - JUNE 2024

The doors to Carlos’s apartment were wide open, letting in the warm breeze and the distant hum of the harbor below.

Y/N stood barefoot in the hallway, a bag slung over one shoulder, hair up in a loose clip, holding a cardboard box filled with her old work stuff.

Carlos leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching her with a smile that was more proud than amused. “You know,” he said, voice warm, “for someone who’s technically lived here half the time, you still move in like it’s your first day here.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Excuse me. I had to donate half my stuff for them to fit in your tiny house.”

No, Carlos' apartment or rather his penthouse, with 3 bedrooms, a home gym, his office room and a huge, spacious balcony in the master bedroom was anything but tiny.

“Why do you live like you're living on rent.” She nudged him with her elbow as she passed, her bag thumping onto the couch.

"Well, now you can the house decorate however you want. I don't mind." He took her luggage and kissed her on the cheek.

While she was working on the living room, adding her books to the empty shelf, and made a list of things they needed to get.

"Need new cutlery, pantry boxes, nice candles, throw pillows, Plants, Vase, frames and paintings, side table. Carlos, do you know how empty your couch looks?"

Carlos peeked his head out from the hallway, toothbrush in his mouth, smirking.

"I thought minimalism was in."

"You’re not minimalist. You’re underfurnished."

He shrugged, brushing past her to grab one of the open boxes. “I never needed much. Just a bed, espresso, and a helmet stand.”

“And now you need a mirror in the entryway, real hand towels, and—wait, do you even own a salt shaker?”

“I have Maldon flakes. That counts.”

Y/N gaped. “You cook carbonara without a salt shaker? How have I never noticed these things!?”

While she began unboxing kitchen stuff she had shipped from London, her pretty ceramic mugs, her spice rack, that little pink blender Carlos once mocked but now secretly used, Carlos disappeared into the bedroom.

By the time she got around to setting up her work things in Carlos’ home office, the room still smelled vaguely of clean wood and aftershave. Her laptop, pen holders, folders, planners, made their way onto one side of the huge desk. She lined up her books in the shelf and filled the second drawer with notepads and stationary.

She was halfway through untangling a set of cables when she called out, “Carlos, where do you want me to put the printer?”

There was no response, so She padded into the bedroom, and froze “Carlos?”

The room was already familiar, it had been, even before she officially moved in. Her favorite robe hung behind the door, one of her perfume bottles was always next to his cologne on the dresser, and her reading glasses lived in the drawer on his side of the bed. But today felt different. Today it was theirs.

He pulled open the double closet and gestured like a proud mom. “Ta-da. Half the closet. Yours. I moved my coats to the guest room closet. You now own 50% of the real estate. And I've also put your winter wear with them.”

She peeked inside and gasped. “Carlos... you color-coded my side.”

“Of course I did.” He picked up one of her jackets. “Do not ruin it. I know you.”

Y/N raised her hands. “I'll try.”

He shot her a flat look.

“I said try,” she amended.

He grabbed the box from behind and set it on the bench by the foot of the bed. “Bathroom’s already got three shelves cleared. Vanity drawers too. And I bought you new containers for your twenty-thousand lipsticks.”

“Okay, I have like forty or something. Not that many."

“Sure, sure,” he muttered as he watched her dig through the drawers.

They worked side by side for over an hour, her unpacking makeup, placing skincare bottles in tiny trays, the printer abandoned in the office. Carlos folded some of her clothes that came in wrinkled and tucked them into drawers like it was muscle memory.

“You’re so neat it’s almost illegal,” she commented, running her hand through the pile of black tops.

“I'm about to live with a tornado, I need to ground myself... and my house.”

“You love me,” she teased, poking his side with a heel.

“I do,” he said instantly. Then softer, “I really do.” He pulled her in his lap and kissed her passionately.

CARLOS AND Y/N'S APARTMENT, MONACO - JUNE 2024

The apartment smelled like garlic, basil, and roasted cherry tomatoes. Carlos was at the stove, humming along to an old Spanish song playing softly from the speaker.

From the kitchen island, Y/N’s bestie peeked over her wine glass. “I love how you did all the interior, guys.”

Y/N, already barefoot and wearing a silk hair scarf, laughed. “Carlos was on the verge of crying seeing how many parcels we've received in the last three days.”

Carlos turned his head with a deadpan expression. “Our security is annoyed at this point, I never had so much stuff coming up in the last years then in these days..”

Lando, who had just arrived and was dramatically sniffing the air, plopped himself onto a bar stool. “You should've seen this house before y/n came. He was living under bare minimum.”

Carlos pinched Lando's shoulder hard which made him charge back on him.

“Alright,” she said, sliding a bowl of spagetti into the center of the table. “Dinner is ready. Please act like civilised people.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Lando mumbled, pulling out a chair.

The four of them gathered around the dining table, Y/N and Carlos on one side, Lando and her best friend across from them.

“So,” Carlos began, eyeing Y/N’s bestie as he served up the pasta, “when are you moving to Monaco? We could use another voice of reason here.”

“I think one sane woman in this apartment is enough,” Lando offered, spearing a tomato. " They'd outright us psychos."

Y/N’s bestie pointed a fork at him. “Bold of you to assume I’m the sane one.”

Carlos wiped his hands on a towel and dropped a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “I like your dramatic version. She yells about cushions and cries at animal documentaries.”

“Okay,” she said, blushing, “I did not cry, I got emotional.”

Y/N’s bestie leaned her head against the chair at one point and smiled at them. “I love seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Y/N asked.

She gestured between her and Carlos. “Happy. Comfortable enough to bicker like an old couple without actually hating each other.”

Carlos reached under the table and gave Y/N’s hand a squeeze. She smiled softly at him before looking back at her friend.

“Feels like home,” she said quietly.

Lando blinked. “Okay wow. Didn’t know we were getting emotional before dessert.”

Y/N’s bestie leaned across the table. “Speaking of dessert, what is it?”

Carlos stood up. “Tarta de Santiago. Homemade.”

Lando looked alarmed. “You baked?!”

Carlos shot him a look. “I’m a man of many talents.”

"What were you doing, Y/n? I've never once sen you cook?" Lando teased

“I can cook enough to survive. Would it taste awesome like his? No. Edible? Maybe.” Y/N said sweetly. "So, I work, he cooks.”

They all dug in, the sweet almond cake crumbling perfectly on their forks. The laughter rolled late into the night, warm and loud, in their own happy shell.

AIRPORT, BARCALONA - MAY 2024

The Barcelona sun was already spilling golden light through the arrivals area of El Prat Airport by the time Y/N wheeled her suitcase out to the curb.

She had her hair tied back, sunglasses on, and her phone buzzing with texts she ignored as she scanned for one particular face.

A familiar black SUV rolled up, the window already halfway down.

“Hola, Y/n. How was the flight?” Caco grinned, leaning over to pop the trunk.

Y/N laughed, pulling her sunglasses down slightly. "Flight was nice. Though it was delayed by an hour."

She shoved her suitcase into the trunk and climbed in. Caco handed her a chilled bottle of water. “Gracias,” she said, buckling in.

He glanced at her sideways as he pulled out of the airport loop. “You're a little nervous?”

“Excited, actually,” she said honestly. “A little nervous, yeah. But mostly just… happy to be here.”

“He has no idea, by the way. I think he thinks you’re in meetings till Friday.”

“I told him I was in Munich for a consulting workshop,” she smirked. “He bought it.”

“Poor guy. He’s going to short-circuit when he sees you.”

Y/N smiled to herself, looking out the window as they merged onto the highway. “How’s everyone? Ana texted me last night but didn’t say much. She’s still with them, right?”

“Yeah, everyone’s at Guillermo and Blanca's place, two floors down from Carlos’. Blanca’s still recovering but doing well. Baby is doing good too. He loves being around people.”

Y/N beamed. “I can’t wait to see him. Carlos sent me a few pictures.”

And with that, they headed into the heart of Barcelona—toward the Sainz family and the surprise that would change Carlos’ whole weekend.

GUILLERMO AND BLANCA'S APARTMENT, BARCELONA - JUNE 2024

The elevator doors dinged open, and Y/N stepped out with Caco, holding a bouquet of fresh white peonies and a tote bag looped over her shoulder. Her palms were a little clammy, heart thudding just slightly faster than usual.

“You okay?” Caco asked under his breath, giving her a reassuring nudge with his elbow as they stood in the hallway.

“I feel like I’m meeting his parents for the first time again,” she whispered.

Caco gave her a look. “You’ve already met them.”

“Not like this.”

He grinned. “They’re gonna lose it. Come on.” Before she could change her mind, Caco knocked twice and then opened the door like it was his own home.

The apartment was filled with the low hum of conversation, the smell of simmering sofrito, and the distant coos of a newborn. Carlos' father was the first one in view, standing near the kitchen island, holding a wine glass.

“Caco,” Carlos Sr. greeted warmly. Then, noticing the person behind him, he blinked. “Oh?”

Y/N stepped forward with a nervous but warm smile. His eyes widened for a second before his entire expression softened. “Mira quién está aquí…” [Look who's here] He set his glass down instantly, arms open. “Y/N!”

Y/N hugged him gently, careful not to crush the bouquet. “It’s so good to see you again. Congratulations, by the way. Grandfather now, huh?”

He chuckled proudly. “Yes. Old age finally hitting in.”

From down the hallway, Ana’s voice called out, “Is that... oh my god, she’s here?!”

A blur of movement later, Ana appeared barefoot, in leggings and an oversized hoodie, hair tied in a messy bun. She squealed and ran to Y/N, nearly tackling her in a hug.

“You look amazing!” Ana gushed, holding her by the shoulders. “You didn’t tell me you were landing early!”

“I wanted to stop by and say hi before everything gets crazy,” Y/N said, glancing around nervously. “Is… is Blanca up?”

Ana stepped aside. “She’s just in the nursery with mamá. Come.”

They walked slowly into the softly lit nursery. The air smelled like baby powder and fresh laundry. Blanca sat in a rocking chair, cradling a tiny bundle in a seafoam green onesie. Reyes, sitting next to her daughter, looked up as the door opened.

“Mamá,” Ana whispered. “Look who came.”

Reyes’s eyes met Y/N’s, and her reaction was immediate and instinctive, a wide smile and arms opening without hesitation.

“Y/n, what a surprise,” she said warmly, standing to hug her. “I'm so delighted to see you.”

Y/N hugged her tight, her eyes stinging. “Congratulations, señora. He’s beautiful.”

“Please,” Reyes smiled, pulling back and brushing Y/N’s cheek affectionately, “Call me Reyes. You’re family now.”

The words hit like honey, warm and slow and soft.

Blanca finally spoke, her eyes bright but tired. “Took you long enough. I’ve been dropping hints for days.”

Y/N laughed, walking closer. “I come bearing gifts.” She held out the flowers. “And hugs. If you’re up for them.”

“I’m always up for you,” Blanca said, reaching out with one arm while cradling her son in the other. “Come meet your favorite nephew.”

Y/N knelt beside the chair and looked at the tiny face. He yawned in that slow, wrinkled way newborns do, and she felt something shift in her chest.

“He’s perfect,” she said quietly. " Have you thought of any names yet?"

Blanca looked at her sideways. “A few. We have a little celebration in Madrid next Sunday. We'll officially name him then.” She shifted a little to face Y/N. "You should come with Carlos."

She was thinking about what to say when, “Carlos doesn’t know you’re here, right?” Reyes asked, already suspicious.

Y/N smirked. “Nope. That’s the whole point.”

“You are going to ruin him,” Ana muttered happily. “In the best way.”

Then came the sound of keys jingling and the main door swinging open.

“¿Qué pasa, estoy tarde?” [What's up, am I late?] came Carlos’s voice, casual and oblivious.

Panic rushed in for a split second, Y/N’s heart thumped against her ribs as if to scream, “Too late to run.”

Carlos walked into the hallway first, brushing his hand through his hair, in his Ferrari polo and joggers. He stopped short when he reached the nursery door and saw her.

His voice caught.

“Y/N…?”

She stood slowly from the side of the rocking chair, hands slightly nervous at her sides. “Hey.”

He blinked, eyes wide, confused. “You—you said you were in Munich.”

“I lied.”

“You lied?!” He strode forward in two long steps and gathered her into his arms so tightly, she squeaked.

“You’re really here,” he murmured, face buried in her shoulder.

“I’m really here.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, hands still framing her waist. “What about your meetings?”

“Moved. I cleared Thursday and Friday. And I’ll be at the race.”

Carlos stared at her for another second, then pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve been dreaming of this exact thing for two weeks.”

Ana cleared her throat loudly. “We are still here, you know.”

Carlos turned and flipped her off with one hand while still holding Y/N.

Blanca grinned from the chair. “So… are we allowed to say you’re his girlfriend officially now?”

Y/N raised a brow, teasing. “Is that okay, Carlos?”

Carlos deadpanned. “It’s a crime that we haven’t made it public yet.”

His mother laughed, wrapping an arm around Reyes. “Don’t worry. You can tell the world after this race. ”

Carlos groaned into Y/N’s neck. “You see what you started?” Y/N laughed into his shoulder.

.

The apartment had finally quieted down.

Dinner had been full of laughs, gossip and a slightly overcooked tortilla that y/n had to eat, courtesy of Carlos.

It was nearing midnight now. Reyes and Carlos Sr. had gone back to their apartment. Ana had passed out on the couch mid-movie, and Blanca had just finished feeding the baby before yawning into the horizon.

“I need a nap before his next meltdown,” she groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Can you two hold down the fort?”

Carlos looked up from his spot on the nursery floor where he was trying to assemble a baby bouncer. “You want us to babysit?”

Blanca grinned from the doorway. “I trust Y/N more than I trust you, hermanito.”

Y/N smiled as she reached for the little bundle Blanca handed over. “We’ve got him.”

Blanca turned slowly. “One bottle in the warmer, diapers in the basket, burp cloth on your shoulder. Ah, you’re already a pro.”

“I’ve worked with Carlos. I’m used to emotional men who cry when they’re hungry.”

Carlos: “Uncalled for.”

Blanca: “Accurate though.”

And with that, Blanca disappeared toward the guest room, already half-asleep.

The nursery was softly lit by a floor lamp in the corner. Hugo lay curled against Y/N’s chest, impossibly small, his breathing shallow and warm against her collarbone. She stood swaying a little, rubbing his back gently, and humming something softly — not a lullaby, just whatever tune her heart picked in the moment.

Carlos stood back and watched her for a second, arms crossed, an unreadable look on his face.

She glanced up. “What?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, walking over to her. “Just… you.”

“What about me?”

He touched the edge of the baby’s blanket and looked at her like she was holding the universe.

“You’re going to be so good at this someday.”

She stilled a little, a softness rising behind her eyes. “You think?”

Carlos nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I know.”

She smiled faintly. “He’s so light. And warm. And smells like that baby shampoo. He's giving me a baby fever, Carlos. It's too soon for that”

Carlos chuckled. “Yes. Please. Control yourself, woman!”

“Wow. Very supportive.”

She sat on the armchair slowly, careful not to shift the tiny bean too much, and Carlos knelt in front of them. Y/N adjusted her arms to cradle the baby more securely, and after a moment, she glanced at Carlos.

“Do you want to hold him?”

Carlos blinked. “I haven’t since the hospital. He looked too… fragile.”

She grinned. “Come on here,” she said gently, “sit.”

He sat on the floor with his back against the chair, and she slowly leaned forward to place Hugo in his arms. He automatically adjusted, careful but confident. Hugo stirred a little but didn’t wake.

Carlos stared down at him in wonder. “He looks like Blanca.”

“He does. With a little of Guillermo’s ears,” she teased.

Carlos chuckled. “Poor kid.”

She leaned her head on the chair, watching him. They stayed there like that for a while, Carlos on the floor with his nephew in his arms, Y/N watching them like she was memorizing the moment.

carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 Not the result I wanted at home — the team gave it everything but couldn’t find the pace we needed today. Grateful for the hug that makes everything feel better. Vamos a por más. 🌶️🇪🇸

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scuderiaferrari 💔 We win and lose together. Proud of your fight, Carlos. #ForzaFerrariSempre ❤️‍🔥

yourusername The hugs are permanent. Win or not. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

tifosibaby we’ll get them next time papi 🔥

username1 i love how soft you are for her 😭💗

yourmomofficial Always proud of you, Carlos. Efforts matters more then the result ❤️

clwife16 funny how she’s always in the paddock when he’s not on the podium 🤡 Witch brings bad luck to him like she did to Charles. Good thing he got rid of her.

→leclercdailydose The fact that you blame a woman who has no hand in operating the race or the car and is just there to support her boyfriend, for his bad result is utterly misogynistic and total bs. Grow your mentality up, it's 21st century.

forzaferrari_1655 bring back single king era

sainz_blanca Proud of you always, Carlitos. Tu Sobrino dice 'aguuu', que creemos que significa "la próxima vez te los daré". ❤️

carlossainz55fan We love you no matter the result 🥹❤️

exposecloutwags not everything is about your girlfriend 🙄

y/ncarlosforeverrr the strength they give each other>>>>

sainzgirlssmile the most boyfriend ever 😩

yourusername

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yourusername los bebés más lindos, todos ellos 🥺❤️

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carlossainz55 Eres mi bebe mas linda 😘

→yourusername Amourrr 😘

kikagomez you’re glowingggg, chica 😍

spicysainzxyn mother & father energy 🥹

yourbestie She makes me want to have babies with her. A lot of em😭

→carlossainz55 No she make my babies Back off, Perra. 😌❤️

→yourusername don’t tempt me, we’d raise ✨ icons ✨

→carlossainz55 Amour, WTF !?!?!?

→lando.jpg no leave y/n make babies with me. ive got better genes!

→yourbestie @/lando.jpg No, thank you 😐

arthur_leclerc I was your cutest baby first. Let everyone know that 🙄

→yourusername Yes, of course, my big baby.

sainzscorner She's with the family, Its over for all of us.

username1 when’s the wedding?

everydaysainz Carlos is living version of Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter

jade_distinguinn cutest honorary aunt, everrrr

→yourusername ❤️❤️

yourmomofficial So much love in one post. My heart is full ❤️

→yourusername Miss u so much, mama ❤️

blancasainzv Thank you for arranging the much needed girls night. Love you so much 🫶🏽

→yourusername Mama deserves the best!!!

anasainzvdc Tía del Año

→yourusername So are you 🥺❤️

→username2 the baby doesn’t even know her 💀

ynloveletters literal sunshine ☀️

alexsmcore Girl stop forcing yourself in every functional family you see 😒

ferrariwifex her & carlos are cute i GUESS 🙄

username3 miss ma’am don’t you have a job

yourusername 📍Madrid, Spain

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yourusername full house 🏡🫶🏽

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carlossainz55 Too full. Can’t believe you made me share the bed with Diego again 

→yourusername Mama Blanca deserves rest. What kind of Tio and brother would you be if you can't take care of your nephew

yourbestie ugh I love them. I LOVE them

→yourusername I love you ❤️

anasainzvdc Best trip back home 🫶🏽

→yourusername You made it the best 🫶🏽

username1 Corporate girlboss to home queen real quick

alexandrasmsupport trying too hard 😂

lando.norris Disappointing that you didn't even bother inviting Diago's favourite uncle. Wow.

→ carlossainz55 Who are you again??

charleslecangel girl first makes them love her and then wrecks the home.

sainzslnloveclub okay and when are you two adopting me

blancasainzv La familia ❤️

username2 not a fan of this “wifey” energy rn

charlos_.lover we love a man who opens his home and heart

carlitofanito Domestic Carlos makes me feel things in my stomach..

marievdc Bellissimo ❤️❤️

username3 such cute puppies !

MONTHS LATER

CARLOS AND Y/N'S APARTMENT, MONACO - DECEMBER 2024

Y/N curled into Carlos’s oversized grey hoodie, her socked feet tucked beneath her on their deep couch. Lando was sprawled across the floor, propped up on his elbows, surrounded by his half-eaten takeout box and Carlos’s phone, which was open to Google Maps.

“I’m telling you,” Lando insisted, pointing at the screen dramatically, “Maldives is the move. Just beach, drinks, and party.”

Y/N stretched one leg out to nudge Lando’s arm. “Alright, Mr. ‘No Thoughts Just Vibes,’ let’s lock this in before all the good villas are gone. Carlos, you're in?”

Carlos walked over with three mugs, handing them out. “You know I’m in. As long as it has shade, good espresso, and no schedule.”

“Perfect,” Y/N said, taking a sip. “So… the four of us. We can get a beachfront villa. And we can invite Jade and Arthur too? If everyone is alright with it.”

“I love Jade, bring her,” came a voice from the laptop on the coffee table. Her best friend had joined the video call from her flat in London, her hair in a bun and face masked with green clay. “I’ve already added a few killer bikinis on my cart.”

“Don’t bring too killer,” Carlos warned teasingly.

“Oh relax, Dad,” she replied, “I’m bringing the fun kind. And I want one of those floating breakfasts I see all over Instagram.”

“I’m texting Jade.” Y/N muttered, grabbing her phone.

Back in the living room, Y/N looked up from her phone with a satisfied smirk.

“She’s in. They’re both in.”

“Hell yeah,” Lando cheered, throwing a popcorn kernel in the air and missing his mouth entirely. “We’ve got ourselves a squad.”

“Wait,” Carlos said thoughtfully. “We’ll need to book a villa big enough. Like four rooms. Ocean view. One with a private plunge pool.”

“And separate bathrooms,” Y/N added quickly. “Lando leaves towels everywhere.”

“I do not!”

“You do,” Carlos and Y/N said at the same time.

Carlos looked over at her with a grin. “This is going to be chaos, isn't it?”

She leaned into his side, grinning. “Beautiful, salty, sun-drenched chaos.”

Her bestie’s voice floated from the laptop. “I swear if someone makes a couples TikTok, I’m filing for emotional distress.”

“You can third-wheel me and Carlos,” Y/N offered.

“I’d rather fourth-wheel you both and Jade-Arthur. Full chaos mode.”

Carlos raised his brows. “You’re all forgetting this is my winter break.”

“You love it,” Y/N said, nudging him.

“Only because you’re going to be in a bikini for seven days straight,” he murmured, low enough that only she heard it.

She kicked his leg lightly, cheeks warming.

Lando pretended to gag. “Save it for the Maldives.”

Carlos just smirked and sipped his cocoa, and Y/N grabbed her laptop to start scrolling through options. Their winter escape was officially on.

CAFE DE PARIS, MONACO - DECEMBER 2024

The four women sat tucked into a corner table by the windows, pastel espresso cups and half-eaten lemon tarts between them. Pascale was telling a story from Arthur and Charles’ karting days, one that Charlotte had clearly heard before but still laughed at politely.

Jade excused herself to the washroom, leaving her phone facedown on the table, just for a minute.

Alexandra reached for her glass of sparkling water… and her eyes drifted to the glowing screen that lit up just as a text came in from Y/n: villa booked for the next week. Maldives we're coming!!!

Her jaw clenched, and she lowered the screen. Her heart pounded harder than she’d expected. Jade was going to the Maldives. With Y/n, there is 100% chance Arthur was going too and if Y/n planned it that included Carlos too.

Before she could think too long, Jade returned to the table. Alex offered a neutral smile.

“Everything okay?” Jade asked, wiping her hands on a napkin.

“All good,” Alex said sweetly. “Pascale was just telling us about Charles’ first kart crash. Again.”

Jade laughed, relaxing again. But something behind Alex’s eyes had already shifted, and stayed that way the rest of the afternoon.

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There will be a part 3!

[julietcpulet]

When did Maomao fall in love?

There’s not necessarily a conclusive moment when we know Maomao’s feelings change from ambivalence to friendship to romantic interest. For me though I think her feelings for Jinshi were progressing from attraction to love somewhere around light novels 5-9. Maomao isn’t someone who ever directly says the word “love”, it’s only implied in the strength of her affection or defense of a person. And a moment I really see as pivotal for exemplifying this feeling from her, towards Jinshi, as falling in love is in her comparison to Luomen from light novel 9.

Who was she talking to? She knew Jinshi was standing in front of her, but for some reason she kept seeing Luomen’s face.

Her adoptive father is the only man Maomao has ever felt genuine attachment and love for without voicing it directly. Her respect, concern and daughterly affection for Luomen are some of the only times we see her think genuinely in a fond way of another person or be willing to speak boldly on their behalf. So to compare Jinshi in any way to this man whom she holds in such high regard and consider them similar, that’s huge. Also because of how she’s comparing them.

The principle that drove Jinshi’s behavior seemed very similar to Luomen’s. She was afraid that if he went on like this, he would end up just as luckless in life as her old man.

It has to do with her worry. That Luomen’s kindness ends in his own suffering and Jinshi will be much the same. She’s not comparing them to contrast, she’s comparing them to show how alike they are. Although Jinshi has now stepped into his role as Ka Zuigetsu, he struggles to leave behind all he knew in the rear palace. However, it’s not just due to him being a workaholic, actually he would enjoy far less responsibilities, the reason he still has dealings with his past role is because of the people there and the trust he has established amongst so many. It’s this trait of his, his dependability and willingness to shoulder others troubles that is why Maomao and others close to him know he would be crushed as Emperor. As although he has the acumen to fulfill his duty, he would hold himself responsible for the lives of every individual until it ran him dry.

She discovered, though, that there was something else behind her boiling anger. Her hands went to Jinshi’s cheek. “You’re only human, Master Jinshi. You’re not some mythical immortal who can save everyone.” She held his face in her hands, the fingers of her left hand brushing his scar. “You can be wounded, scarred, brought low. Only human.”

Maomao especially sees similarities to Luomen in this, how he gives charity to others at the apothecary shop where she would charge people. How he spends his mind and health when he’s already worn down. So we notice in these small comparisons that she’s coming to care what happens to Jinshi should he be put in a position where he’d be compromised. Although she wants him to use his position for good, what she truly wants is him to stop burdening himself unnecessarily like her own father. And that, to me, is a show of blossoming love.

She respected Luomen immensely. A man who never lost his kindness no matter what unhappiness he encountered was like a miracle. The price, though, was that his body and his heart were both battered. In time he became so that everything he did, he did in the expectation of defeat. Would Jinshi end up like him one day?

That she’s realizing she fears for Jinshi but also respects him because of the way he is almost breaking himself to help others. Only on the flip side, this is what makes her worry it will be the end of them both. This is where I think we see her falling in love even without expressing it, in comparing him to the one person she’s let down her guard for, the man who raised her. Now Jinshi is the person she’s beginning to see as a different kind of safety, someone worthy of letting past her defenses and her worry is transferring to him.

“Please, please don’t go do anything else like burning a brand into your skin,” Maomao said. “I heard you…the first several times,” Jinshi replied. “Are you sure?” A smile flitted across Maomao’s face, and she slowly pulled her hands away. Except they didn’t leave his cheeks. Jinshi held them there.

It’s a quiet kind of change but she very much acts like a future wife might in this moment, giving loving counsel and advice, mixed with honesty and concern. No, her feelings are not outwardly acknowledged yet nor may they ever be as “love” in the way we expect but to me this is where it began. 💜💚