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amilovesworld · 5 months ago

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Checkered Hearts ||6|| Final

Summary: Y/n, a young journalist chasing her dream in the world of sports, never imagined her path would lead her to F1—or to Carlos Sainz Jr., a driver whose charm and sarcasm quickly blur the lines between professional rivalry and something more. As they clash, argue, and share unexpected moments, Y/n's life is turned upside down, forcing her to make choices she never saw coming. But in a world of speed, fame, and pressure, can she hold on to everything she’s worked for, or will she find herself racing toward something—someone—she never planned for?

Genre: Fluff/ Enemies to lovers/ Slow burn

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr. x Indian reader

Warnings: long series, slow burn, smut, 18+

Y/N didn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. She could barely process the words. The terror was overwhelming. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen, the footage of the wreckage still playing, her thoughts a whirlwind.

Lando's hand gently rested on her shoulder, a silent comfort, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. Her breath was shallow, her body cold with fear.

She had seen crashes before. She had written about them, witnessed the aftermath, but this… this was different. This was Carlos. The person who had been the center of her world for far too long.

Please, please be okay, she silently begged.

Her thoughts were racing, faster than her heart. She didn’t know what she would do if something happened to him, if—no, she couldn’t even let herself finish that thought.

The whole paddock was in a tense, silent standoff, waiting for any update. But as the minutes stretched on, Y/N felt herself sink further into that hollow, empty pit in her stomach. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably now.

And yet, she wouldn’t cry.

Her mind raced back to every conversation she’d ever had with him, every stolen kiss, every argument, every moment where she’d allowed herself to pretend that what they had didn’t matter. She couldn’t lose him. Not like this.

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours. Y/N stood there, surrounded by Lando and Charles, but it felt like she was alone. Her world was waiting on a single piece of news—one small, fragile thing that could either shatter or heal everything.

She stood there in silence, her heart in her throat, her hands clenched into fists.

Please be okay, Carlos. Please don’t leave me.

Just then The announcement crackled through the speakers, and Y/N felt her heart stop in her chest before it suddenly began to beat again—slowly, painfully, with each thump reverberating through her body. "He's fine. He's fine, just minor injuries. He's been taken to the medical center for check-up."

The words were like a lifeline, a rope pulling her back from the edge. She stood frozen for a moment, not sure whether to feel relief or something else. But for the first time since the crash, she allowed herself to breathe. Deep breaths. She had to breathe.

Lando and Charles were called away, the race soon to continue, but Y/N couldn’t leave. She couldn’t let go of the tight grip of fear that still clutched her chest. The uncertainty, the panic—those feelings were still raw, but at least now she knew he was alive. At least now she knew he was safe.

But still, a part of her couldn’t shake the nagging ache in her heart.

She made her way toward the medical center, her steps quick but hesitant. The adrenaline that had kept her moving now began to wear off, leaving her weak, her legs shaking slightly as she walked. She knew she should keep it together—professionalism was everything. But right now, her world had been shaken to its core, and the thought of seeing Carlos again... after everything... it made her heart beat in ways she couldn’t explain.

Just as she approached the door, her earpiece buzzed, the voice of the production assistant cutting through her thoughts. "Y/N, hurry up and move to the medical center to take Carlos' interview."

Her jaw clenched, anger and frustration rising within her. An interview? Now? When all she could think about was whether he was okay? She forced herself to push aside the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She had to do this. She had to act professional. Even though every fiber of her being screamed for something else.

When the door to the medical room opened, and Carlos stepped into view, she was hit by a wave of relief so intense it nearly knocked the wind out of her. His face was a little battered, a few scrapes and bruises, but he was alive. He was here. He was sitting in front of her, and for a brief moment, she forgot where she was, forgot the cameras, forgot the world outside.

But the moment she saw him, everything she’d been holding back bubbled to the surface. She was trembling, her hands barely able to hold the mic. She tried to speak, tried to sound professional, the camera was rolling, but the words came out shaky. "How are you now, Carlos?" Her voice cracked ever so slightly, and the moment the mic left her fingers, she wished she could take the words back.

Carlos didn’t answer her question right away. Instead, he looked at her with an intensity that almost burned. Then, without warning, he pushed the mic aside, stood up and pulled her into his arms. The cameras were rolling, and the moment was broadcasted to millions, but neither of them cared.

He whispered in her ear, his voice low and filled with warmth, "I'm fine."

And that was it. The floodgates broke open.

She let out a choked breath, feeling all the fear, the panic, the overwhelming dread from earlier come crashing down on her. She tried to hold it together, tried to breathe, but she couldn’t. Tears filled her eyes, slipping down her cheeks in an unstoppable torrent. She gripped his shirt tightly, her fingers clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Carlos held her tighter, his arms a shield, grounding her. He didn’t care if they were still on live TV. He didn’t even realize that the cameraman had stopped recording the moment he hugged her. All that mattered was that she was here. That he was here. That, for this brief moment, the world outside didn’t exist.

Her sobs were quiet but jagged, each breath shaky as she let go of everything she had been holding in. Relief flooded her chest, but so did something else. Something heavier.

Then suddenly, her breaths grew shorter. Shallower.

A crushing weight settled on her chest, pressing down, stealing the air from her lungs. Her fingers tightened against Carlos’s shirt, her vision blurring—not just from tears, but from the overwhelming dizziness washing over her.

She couldn’t breathe.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her body trembling as panic clawed its way up her throat. Her chest heaved, searching desperately for air, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to pull in enough. Her hands shook as she clutched at Carlos, her nails digging into his arms as if holding onto him could anchor her, could stop the suffocating spiral she was being dragged into.

Carlos felt it instantly.

The way her body stiffened. The way her breaths turned frantic. The way her fingers gripped him with a desperate kind of fear.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice steady but urgent. "Breathe, cariño. Look at me."

But she couldn’t. She was slipping under, drowning in the terror that had gripped her chest like a vice. A sharp, gasping sob wracked her body as her knees threatened to give out beneath her.

Carlos reacted on instinct. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing against her damp cheeks, forcing her to look at him.

"Listen to me," he whispered, voice low, soothing. "I’m here. I’m safe. Just breathe with me, okay?"

His forehead pressed gently against hers. "Breathe, Y/N. You have to breathe."

She tried.

She really did.

But she couldn’t.

Because all she could think about was—

His car flipping. The flames. The fear. The last thing she had said to him. The way she had pushed him away. The way she had been so—so stupid.

"Y-you scared me," she choked out between gasps, shaking her head frantically. Another sob ripped through her as she clutched his shirt even tighter.

“You—” she choked, her throat closing. “I— I thought—”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know, cariño.”

He kept his hand over hers, pressing it harder against his chest, grounding her.

“Feel that?” he murmured. “That’s my heart. Still beating. I’m not going anywhere.”

She let out a ragged, shaking breath, her nails digging into him, as if afraid he’d slip away if she let go.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t rush her.

Just held her, his own heart hammering in his chest.

And slowly—painfully slowly—her breathing started to even out.

Her sobs quieted into uneven gasps.

Her grip on him loosened, just slightly.

Carlos pulled back slightly, cupping her face gently, his thumb brushing away the tears as they fell. His gaze softened, his eyes dark with emotion.

"You won’t lose me, Y/N. I promise."

And in that moment, it was just about them. Two people who had been through so much, both struggling with their own feelings, but now finding solace in each other’s arms.

And Carlos—though she hadn’t said the words yet—he knew.

He knew what this was.

He just didn’t have the right words either.

So, instead of speaking, he just held her a little tighter, a little closer.

A silent promise that spoke louder than any words ever could.

In that moment, nothing else mattered.

Not the cameras. Not the race. Not the world around them.

All that mattered was that they had found their way back to each other.

________________________________________________________________________

Even though the cameras had stopped recording the second Carlos pulled her into that hug, that brief moment—those few seconds where they clung to each other on live television—had been enough to send social media into a meltdown. The headlines were already running wild, speculations flying in every direction.

The frenzy had begun.

But neither of them cared.

As soon as she felt stable enough to walk, Carlos didn’t hesitate—he grabbed her hand and led her out of the paddock. No words were exchanged, no explanations given. They slipped away quietly, avoiding the hustle and bustle of the paddock. There was no one around, no journalists or fans to witness them. They didn’t stop to check their phones, didn’t look at the reactions flooding in from the outside world. The chaos of the race weekend faded behind them, replaced by the quiet urgency of just being together. Sneaking out wasn’t easy—especially with Williams frantically calling Carlos and Sky Sports F1 blowing up Y/N’s phone—but neither of them cared. The world could wait. Right now, they needed this.

The moment they slid into the backseat of the car, Carlos’ manager barely got a word in before he took the hint and simply started driving. There was no point in questioning them. Not tonight.

Y/N didn’t let go of Carlos for even a second. As soon as the doors shut, she curled into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face into his chest. She wasn’t just holding him—she was clinging to him, as if she still needed to convince herself that he was real, that he was alive, that she hadn’t lost him. Her head rested against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. It was slower now, calmer, unlike the erratic thundering she had heard when she first saw him after the crash. Her grip on his Shirt tightened, as if afraid that if she let go, he might disappear.

Carlos didn’t mind.

If anything, it made his heart ache in ways he wasn’t sure he could explain. He tightened his arms around her, resting his chin against the top of her head, letting the warmth of her body seep into his. The steady hum of the car moving through the streets was the only sound between them. Neither of them spoke, but silence had never felt this loud before.

Her breath was warm against him, still slightly uneven. His fingers traced slow, absentminded circles on her back, soothing, grounding. Every time his phone buzzed with another call—his team, his PR reps, probably half of Spain by now—he ignored it. Every time hers vibrated against her pocket, she didn’t even glance at it.

None of that mattered. Not right now.

Carlos had crashed. He had been pulled from the wreckage. He had walked away with minor injuries. But the real impact of it all wasn’t the bruises on his body—it was the way she was holding onto him like she had almost lost something irreplaceable.

And the worst part? She had.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he knew. He knew what this meant. For all her denial, all her walls, all her deflection—this meant something.

The entire world was on fire over them right now. The footage from Sky Sports F1 was all over social media, with speculations running wild about what had really happened between the two of them. Social media was in shambles, fans were divided—some swooning, some debating, some outright losing their minds over that live moment. But in the back of this car, in this quiet, sacred space, none of it mattered.

Because all that mattered was that she was still holding on to him. And he wasn’t letting go. _____________________________________________________________________________

The car ride stretched on in a blur of silence, the only sounds the occasional hum of the engine and Y/N’s soft breaths against his chest. Carlos could feel her presence, her grip on him never wavering. It was as though she was trying to embed herself into him, and he didn’t mind one bit.

Y/N was still shaken, the reality of the crash not yet fully sinking in. The thought of how close she had come to losing him... how close... gnawed at her chest, the fear still gripping her tightly. But now, as they sat together, she felt the tension in her body slowly begin to ease. There was something soothing about being in his arms, something grounding that made the world outside seem distant. For now, it was just them—no cameras, no race, no chaos—just the two of them in the backseat of a car, heading to an unknown destination.

As they neared the hotel, she pulled back just slightly, enough to meet his gaze. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and in that moment, she saw a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite place—concern? Relief? It left her breathless.

Without thinking, her thumb gently brushed against his cheek, the touch more comforting than any words could ever be.

Carlos didn’t speak right away, but his lips curved into a half-smile, the same smile that had always reassured her. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, so tender it nearly shattered her.

“I’m okay,” he murmured, his voice deep and calm. “I’m here. You’re not losing me.”

It was the reassurance she desperately needed, but it didn’t fully erase the panic that had surged through her moments ago. The "what-ifs." She swallowed hard, trying to find her voice again.

“I was scared,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her. She hated sounding so vulnerable, but the truth was undeniable. She had been terrified—more than she had ever been in her life. The crash had nearly taken him from her, and the thought of that was too much to bear.

“I know,” Carlos said softly, his hand gently running through her hair. "I’m sorry for putting you through that."

His sincerity made her heart ache, and she wanted to say something more, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

The car pulled into the hotel driveway, but neither of them moved. They stayed there, wrapped in their quiet bubble, the world outside seeming a distant memory. All that mattered was that they were together.

Eventually, Carlos stepped out, his arm already around Y/N, guiding her toward the hotel’s entrance. He kept her close, shielding her from the prying eyes of anyone who might be lingering outside. She clung to him even more tightly, her fingers gripping his shirt as if she couldn’t bear to let go.

Inside the hotel, they made their way to Carlos’s room in silence. Once the door clicked shut behind them, Y/N turned toward him. She didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t need to. She simply wanted to be with him. To feel him close, to breathe him in, to quiet the fear that still lingered inside her.

Carlos didn’t hesitate. He pulled her back into his arms, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was softer than before. This wasn’t a kiss fueled by need, but one of reassurance, of quiet comfort. When he finally broke the kiss, she was crying again. His hands cupped her face, his thumb brushing away the remnants of her tears, as though he could wipe away the fear with a single touch.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I’m scared. I don’t know how to deal with this fear," she continued, hiccuping between sobs, her hands clutching his shirt. "Because you’re never going to stop racing. Every time you’re on track, my heart will be in my mouth, and I won’t know if you’re okay. I love you so much, Carlos. I don’t know how to deal with it."

Hearing her say the words that had been left unsaid for so long felt like a sudden weight lifting from his chest. But it also made something deep inside him tighten—he couldn’t bear to see her like this, so vulnerable, so afraid.

Without thinking, Carlos leaned in again, kissing her fiercely. His lips crushed against hers, desperate and intense. It was as if he wanted to pour all his feelings, all his reassurances into that kiss. He couldn’t find the words, so he let his actions speak for him.

When they pulled apart, her tear-streaked face was still in his hands, and he was panting, his breath ragged.

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice low but full of sincerity, his hands gently cupping her face, "I promise, from now on, I’ll be more careful. I won’t drive recklessly like I used to. But please, say those words again. Please."

His eyes searched hers, full of hope and vulnerability, pleading for her to repeat what she'd just confessed—her love, her fear, her truth—all the things she had kept locked inside until now.

She stared at him for a moment, her heart racing, still overwhelmed by the weight of everything. She took a shaky breath and, with a trembling voice, finally said it again, as if the words were a lifeline between them.

"I love you, Carlos. I love you so much," she whispered, the words feeling more real now than ever before.

The moment hung in the air, heavy with emotion. But then, without warning, her lips were back on his. It wasn’t gentle or tentative; it was desperate, hungry, as if he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t restrain himself any longer. His lips claimed hers with a ferocity that made her knees weak, and she melted into him, her hands instinctively tangling in his hair. God, he tasted like sin and salvation all at once.

Carlos kissed her with everything he had, pouring all his unspoken love and longing into the moment. His hands gripped her waist, holding her close, as if letting her go would shatter him. The intensity of his kiss left her breathless, and when she finally broke away, her chest heaved, her breaths shallow and quick.

Before she could say a word, his hands slid to her hips, and with a swift yet gentle motion, he pushed her back against the wall next to them. She moaned as the coolness of the surface sent a shiver down her spine, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating off him.

He leaned in again, his lips capturing hers with even more fervor. This kiss was hungrier, more desperate, as if he was trying to memorize every part of her. His hands moved up her sides, anchoring her against him, and she felt her resolve crumbling completely.

As their kiss deepened, Carlos shifted his attention, his lips trailing slowly down to her jawline. He kissed along the curve of her jaw, his movements deliberate yet filled with unrestrained passion. She tilted her head slightly, giving him better access, her fingers clutching his shirt to steady herself.

Carlos’s lips lingered along the curve of her jaw, his breath hot against her skin as he trailed kisses down to the sensitive spot just below her ear. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, and he smirked against her neck, feeling her grip on his shirt tighten. The world outside the room had ceased to exist—there was only the sound of their ragged breaths and the thundering beat of their hearts.

His hands moved from her waist, one sliding up her back, pressing her closer to him, while the other found its way to her neck, his thumb brushing gently over her jawline. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, his accent thicker than usual, making her knees feel weak.

She couldn’t find her voice, couldn’t think beyond the way his lips were teasing her skin and the way his body pressed against hers. Her head tipped back against the wall as he kissed the hollow of her throat, each kiss slower, more deliberate, as though he was savoring her.

“Carlos…” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, but it was enough to make him pause. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes searching hers, filled with a mix of desire and something deeper.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice softer now but still edged with the intensity of the moment.

“I just... I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the single tear that escaped. “I’m here.”

His words seemed to unlock something in her. She surged forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that was just as fierce as his had been. Carlos groaned softly against her lips, his hands moving back to her waist as he pulled her even closer. The kiss deepened, growing more heated, more urgent, as if they were trying to make up for all the time they had spent dancing around each other. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss even further, his body pressing hers firmly against the wall.

“I mean it,” Carlos said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’ll be careful, for you. Always for you.”

“I know,” she said softly, her voice steady now. “I believe you.”

And with that, he leaned in again, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was slower, deeper, filled with all the love.

Carlos’s hands slid down to her hips, his fingers gripping them firmly as though anchoring himself to her. Their steps shuffled, uncoordinated, as they backed toward the bed. The tension that had been simmering between them for months finally erupted into something uncontrollable, something electric. Carlos guided her without breaking the kiss, his lips moving from hers to explore the softness of her jaw, trailing down to her neck.

Her knees hit the edge of the bed, and they both tumbled onto it in a tangle of limbs, a surprised laugh escaping her lips. But the sound was quickly silenced as Carlos claimed her lips again, more eager, more intense. His body hovered over hers, his weight pressing her into the mattress, and she arched into him instinctively, her hands sliding up to bury themselves in his hair.

"Fuck, I love you so much," Carlos whispered, his voice thick with emotion and desire, the words tumbling out as if he could no longer contain them. His dark eyes locked onto hers, searching, pleading silently for permission, for reassurance that she wanted this as much as he did.

Y/N's breath hitched. She could see the question in his gaze, the hesitation, and it made her heart ache. Without a word, she closed her eyes, offering herself to him completely.

He didn’t waste a second. His hands moved to the hem of her dress, lifting it over her head in one swift motion. Her bra followed, and suddenly she was lying bare before him, wearing nothing but her panties. His gaze raked over her, and she felt exposed, vulnerable, but the look in his eyes wasn’t one of judgment or conquest—it was pure, unadulterated worship.

“Carlos,” she whispered, her voice trembling as he moved closer, his hands skimming her waist.

He didn’t respond, not with words. Instead, he leaned down, his lips capturing her nipple, his tongue swirling around it in slow, deliberate circles. She gasped, her head falling back as pleasure shot through her. His other hand found her breast, kneading it gently but firmly, and she moaned, her hands tangling in his hair again.

“Carlos… Aahhh…” His name escaped her lips like a prayer, and he responded by increasing the pressure of his tongue, teasing her nipple until it hardened under his attention. She could feel the heat between her legs flowing as his grip on her waist was tightening.

He took his time exploring her body, his lips and hands leaving no inch untouched. When he finally moved lower, his tongue licking her stomach, his breath warm against her skin, she shivered, anticipation coiling in her core. He paused at the edge of her panties, his eyes meeting hers once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

“Yes,” she breathed, the word barely audible.

He didn’t hesitate this time. Her panties were gone in an instant, and then his lips were on her skin, trailing kisses from her ankle up her thigh. She whimpered, her hands gripping the sheets as he moved closer and closer to where she needed him most. When he finally reached her core, she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

He lapped at her with his tongue, slow and deliberate, and she moaned loudly, her hands flying to his hair. “Oh God… Carlos…” Her hips bucked against his mouth, and he groaned, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through her. He pulled her legs over his shoulders, holding her in place as he devoured her, his tongue flicking against her clit before sliding lower, pushing into her.

She was losing her mind. Her body was on fire, every nerve alight with sensation. When he added his fingers, curling them inside her while his tongue worked her clit. His fingers were moving in and out of her in a rhythm while his tongue was doing its magic. She was whimpering, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her orgasm crashed over her, wild and uncontrollable, and she cried out his name, her hands pulling his head deeper as she shuddered with pleasure.

He didn’t stop until she was spent, her body limp and trembling. When he finally pulled away, he kissed her thighs gently, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin with a tenderness that made her shiver. He moved up her body slowly, deliberately, kissing every inch of her—the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breast. Each touch was a promise, a reminder of his hunger for her. By the time his lips found hers, she was already burning for him all over again.

Their kiss was deep and hungry, and she could taste herself on his tongue. The flavor was intoxicating, a heady mix of sweetness and salt that only fueled the fire inside her. Her hands fumbled with his shirt, tugging at the fabric impatiently. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her lips as he helped her strip it off. His skin was warm beneath her touch, the muscles of his chest taut as she traced her fingers over them.

She reached for his pants next, her fingers trembling as she unbuckled them. He laughed again, a low, rich sound that sent a thrill through her. “In a hurry?” he teased, his hands covering hers as he helped her push them down. His boxers followed, and then he was standing there, half on the bed, half off, completely bare.

Her eyes widened as she took him in—the thick length of him, hard and throbbing, the way his body seemed to pulse with need. She couldn’t help the way her mouth watered, the way her own body ached in response. She looked up at him, her eyes locking with his, and asked the question without words. Can I?

He smirked, his hands resting on her thighs as he leaned down slightly. “All of me is yours,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “Do whatever you want.”

Her breath hitched at his words, the permission sending a jolt of heat straight to her core. She reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his shaft, feeling the weight of him in her hand. He let out a low groan, his head tipping back as she began to stroke him slowly, her touch tentative at first but growing bolder with every passing second.

She leaned forward, her tongue flicking out to taste him, and he nearly lost his balance. His hands gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles turning white as he fought to stay upright. The taste of him was intoxicating—salty, musky, uniquely him—and she couldn’t get enough. She licked him again, this time from base to tip, her tongue swirling around the head before she took him into her mouth.

He groaned again, his hips bucking slightly as she sucked him deeper, her lips stretching to accommodate his size. Her hand moved in tandem with her mouth, stroking what she couldn’t take, and the combination was overwhelming. He was everywhere—filling her mouth, her throat, her senses—and she loved it. The way he throbbed against her tongue, the way his breath came in ragged gasps, the way his hands tangled in her hair.

She took him deeper, her throat relaxing as she swallowed him down, her eyes watering slightly as she choked herself on his length. He cursed under his breath, his hands tightening in her hair. “God, you’re fucking perfect,” he rasped, his hips rocking forward gently, encouraging her to take more.

She pulled back slightly, her lips still wrapped around him, and looked up at him through her lashes. The sight of his face, twisted in pleasure, only spurred her on. She bobbed her head faster, her hand working in rhythm with her mouth, her other hand reaching up to cup his balls. He let out a strangled moan, his hips jerking forward, and she knew he was close.

He tugged on her hair gently, pulling her away with a groan. “Not yet,” he said, his voice rough. “I want to feel you.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She released him with a soft pop, her lips swollen and glistening, and leaned back on the bed, her legs parting invitingly. He didn’t hesitate, climbing onto the bed. He kissed her again, his tongue claiming hers, and she could taste herself mixed with the salt of his skin.

As he pressed her into the mattress, his body heavy against hers, she felt him—hard and ready—pressing against her thigh. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, his hands roaming her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her. And then, without breaking the kiss, he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Ready?” he whispered against her lips.

“Yes,” she breathed, her hands gripping his shoulders.

He pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, giving her time to adjust. He groaned followed by her moan, her nails digging into his skin as he filled her completely. He paused, his forehead resting against hers, and for a moment, they just breathed together, their bodies connected in the most intimate way possible.

And then he moved, pulling out and thrusting back in with a gentle rhythm that made her gasp. He kissed her neck, her jaw, her lips, his hands exploring her body as he moved inside her. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

“Harder,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but laced with desperation.

He didn’t need to be told twice. His eyes darkened, and he snapped his hips forward, driving into her with a force that made her cry out. His thrusts became rougher, faster, and she clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist as he took her with a wild, unrestrained passion.

Her moans filled the room, mingling with his growls of pleasure. He lifted her hips, changing the angle, and she gasped as he hit a spot inside her that made her see stars. “Carlos!” she screamed, her nails raking down his back

He didn’t slow down. If anything, he went harder, his hands gripping her hips as he drove into her again and again. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, and he seemed to sense it too, because he leaned down, capturing her lips in a desperate, searing kiss. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed it in slow circles, feeling her body responding to his touch. She pushed towards him, meeting his thrusts. He could feel his orgasm building, his body tensing. He quickened his pace, his hips thrusting faster and harder. She moaned loudly, He groaned, their bodies tensing.

They came together, their bodies trembling as pleasure overtook them. He buried his face in her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he spilled himself inside her. She clung to him, her body still shuddering with the aftershocks of her release. After their breaths are even, he kissed her gently, his lips brushing against hers. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice soft. She turned to look at him, her eyes shining with tears. "I love you too, Carlos," she said, her voice shaking. He grinned at her, his eyes shining with amusement. "Well, that's one hell of a way to celebrate surviving a crash," he said, his voice witty. She laughed, her body shaking with amusement. "I think I'd rather you survive the races without crashing. It’s way less scary."

Carlos pulled her into his arms, his body pressing against hers. He kissed her deeply, his lips moving against hers. She responded, her body pressing against his. She moaned softly, her body responding to his touch. Carlos looked at her, his eyes softening. He knew he had to be the most careful man in the world. This was a kind of bond he never felt before. She could have him anyway.

________________________________________________________________________________ The morning light crept through the curtains, warming the room. Carlos slowly stirred, his body still aching from the crash and the chaos of the previous day, but he felt something else—something that was even stronger than the pain. Y/N was nestled against him, her breath slow and steady. His arm draped possessively around Y/N's waist, pulling her closer even in sleep. He let out a contented sigh, nuzzling into her hair, inhaling the scent of her—his favorite scent in the world now.

She shifted slightly, her bare skin brushing against his, and he smiled against her shoulder before pressing a slow, lingering kiss there.

"Buenos días, mi amor," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

Y/N hummed, still caught between sleep and wakefulness, but the deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She stretched slightly, only to realize how sore she was, a reminder of the night before—a night where every stolen glance, every held-back feeling had finally unraveled between them.

Carlos chuckled as he felt her stiffen slightly. "Sore?" he teased, his fingers tracing lazy circles over her hip.

She groaned and buried her face into the pillow. "Shut up."

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before rolling over slightly so he could look at her properly. She was a mess—hair wild, cheeks flushed, lips swollen—but to him, she had never looked more beautiful.

And for the first time, he knew exactly what he wanted.

"Be mine," he said suddenly, his voice softer now, but there was no hesitation in it.

Y/N turned her head toward him, blinking in confusion. "What?"

Carlos propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with nothing but sincerity. "Be my girlfriend," he repeated, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek.

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it.

"I know you're scared," he continued, his fingers threading through hers. "I know you've been fighting this, fighting us for so long. But you don’t have to anymore. I want you, Y/N. Not just in stolen kisses or hidden moments. I want you in every moment. Every day. In front of the world, no more hiding."

She swallowed, her chest tightening at his words. She had spent so long running from this, from what she felt for him, from the idea that she could be with someone like him—someone so deeply woven into a world she had once only observed from the outside.

But last night had shattered every wall she had built.

She loved him.

She had almost lost him.

And she didn't want to waste another second pretending she could live without him.

"Okay," she whispered.

Carlos stilled. "Okay?"

A slow smile spread across her face, and she reached up to cup his cheek. "Yes, Carlos. I'll be yours."

A breath of relief left his lips before he crushed them to hers in a kiss so full of joy, it made her dizzy. He pulled her on top of him, his hands gripping her waist as he smiled against her lips. "Finally," he murmured. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to call you mine?"

She laughed, her fingers tracing over his chest. "I have an idea."

Carlos rolled them over, pinning her beneath him with a playful smirk. but before they could get back to kissing, there was a sudden knock at the door.

Both of them froze.

Then—

"Lando: Oi, Sainz, open up! I know you’re in there."

Y/N’s eyes widened.

Carlos groaned, burying his face in her neck. "I hate him."

Y/N bit back a laugh. "You should probably answer before he gets the whole hotel involved."

Carlos sighed dramatically before sitting up, running a hand through his messy hair, both of them quickly getting dressed.

He sent her one last look—a look filled with so much warmth that it made her chest ache—before dragging himself out of bed to deal with Lando.

Y/N watched him go, her heart pounding.

This wasn’t just some stolen moment anymore.

This was real.

She is Y/N, the woman Carlos Sainz loves.

And she had never felt more cherished.

_________🖤🖤_________

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amilovesworld · 5 months ago

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Checkered Hearts || 5||

Chapter1 | Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4|

Summery: Y/n, a young journalist chasing her dream in the world of sports, never imagined her path would lead her to F1—or to Carlos Sainz Jr., a driver whose charm and sarcasm quickly blur the lines between professional rivalry and something more. As they clash, argue, and share unexpected moments, Y/n's life is turned upside down, forcing her to make choices she never saw coming. But in a world of speed, fame, and pressure, can she hold on to everything she’s worked for, or will she find herself racing toward something—someone—she never planned for?

Genre: Fluff/ Enemies to lovers/ Slow burn

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr. x Indian reader

Warnings: looonnng Chapters, long series, slow burn, eventual smut.

Y/N and Carlos had fallen into a rhythm, a delicate balance that belonged to them alone. No words were spoken about what they were, but their actions spoke volumes. It was an unspoken understanding, undeniable in its depth, their connection growing stronger with every stolen moment.

In the paddock, amidst the chaos of cameras and conversations, Carlos always found a way to touch her—his fingers brushing against her hand, his presence lingering just a heartbeat longer after an interview. When the world wasn’t looking, he’d pull her into a quiet corner, his lips finding hers with the urgency of someone who had waited too long.

It wasn’t always planned. Sometimes, it was the thrill of knowing they could get caught that made their moments even more intoxicating. Like the time Y/N was heading back from the media center late in the evening. She had just rounded a quiet hallway when Carlos appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind a pillar.

“Carlos—” she started, but he silenced her with a grin.

“Shh,” he whispered, tilting his head down before capturing her lips in a kiss that left her breathless.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re going to get us caught one day.”

Carlos smirked, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. “Worth it.”

Other times, it was softer, more intimate. After a long day of interviews, Y/N would find him waiting by her car, his cap pulled low, blending into the shadows. He’d open the door for her, but before she could get in, he’d gently press her against the car, his lips finding hers in a kiss that felt like home.

“Missed you,” he’d whisper, and Y/N would smile, knowing she felt the same.

Their playful nature hadn’t disappeared either. During a team dinner, while everyone was caught up in their conversations, Carlos slipped a note under the table to her.

Meet me by the loading dock in 10 minutes.

Y/N shot him a glare from across the table, but her heart raced as she excused herself. True to his word, he was there, leaning casually against the wall.

“You’re impossible,” she said, crossing her arms.

“And you’re irresistible,” he quipped, pulling her into yet another stolen kiss.

After race days, when the adrenaline had faded and exhaustion had settled in, they often found themselves sneaking into each other’s hotel rooms—sometimes for only a few minutes, just long enough to touch, to kiss, to remind each other they were there. No words were needed. The stolen moments were enough.

Carlos had a habit of showing up unannounced, his mischievous grin giving him away before he even spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured, his fingers grazing her waist.

Y/N sighed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You just saw me two hours ago.”

“Two hours too long,” he whispered before kissing her, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

They had come so far from their early days of fiery arguments and sharp words. From cursing each other out on camera to sneaking away for stolen moments, their relationship had shifted into something uniquely theirs. No labels, no explanations—just two people who couldn’t seem to stay away from each other, no matter how hard they tried.

They both knew the risks, but neither of them seemed to care. For now, the thrill of stolen kisses and the comfort of their quiet understanding was enough. Whatever this was, it belonged to them, and that was all that mattered.

The game of hide and seek continued. At the Brazil race weekend, Y/N had just wrapped up a post-qualifying interview with Charles when she spotted Carlos walking toward her, still in his race suit, hair damp with sweat. Instinctively, she straightened her mic, her body already anticipating whatever nonsense he was about to pull.

“Ah, finally, my favorite journalist,” Carlos grinned as he reached her.

Y/N arched an eyebrow. “Funny. Pretty sure you rolled your eyes at me the first time we met.”

Carlos placed a hand on his heart dramatically. “I have evolved.”

She scoffed. “You’re still the same troublemaker.”

His grin widened, but before he could reply, Lando strolled past and clapped Carlos on the back. “Hey, mate, try keeping your flirting off-camera, yeah? The internet is very observant.”

Carlos sent Lando a glare, but Y/N just smirked, nudging his arm. “Hear that, Sainz? You’re very obvious.”

His eyes darkened slightly. “Only with you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but before she could recover, Carlos threw her a wink and walked off toward his team.

She really hated him sometimes.

One night, when the paddock was quieter, most of the media had left, and the teams were finishing their debriefs, Y/N was about to head back to her hotel when she felt someone grab her wrist and pull her behind one of the hospitality motorhomes.

She barely had time to register Carlos before his lips were on hers, hot and urgent, like he had been holding back all day.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against her lips.

Y/N chuckled, threading her fingers through his hair. “You’re one to talk.”

Carlos deepened the kiss, his hands gripping her waist like he never wanted to let go. But then—

“AHEM.”

They broke apart, turning to see Charles and Lando standing a few feet away, both grinning like they had just caught their parents kissing.

Charles crossed his arms. “So, do we pretend we didn’t see that, or…?”

Lando smirked. “Oh, no. I’m definitely bringing this up later.”

Carlos groaned, resting his forehead against Y/N’s shoulder while she bit back laughter.

The game was getting riskier, but neither of them wanted to stop playing.

______________________________________________________________________ Carlos had always been the type to take life as it came. He thrived on adrenaline, on the rush of the track and the fleeting thrills that came with it. And for a while, what he and Y/N had fit perfectly into that mold—stolen kisses behind the scenes, lingering glances in crowded rooms, and a secret that was theirs alone. It was enough.

Or at least, it had been.

The realization crept up on him slowly, catching him off guard like a car spinning out of control. He started noticing the way his heart raced just a little faster when she was near, how he found himself looking for her in a crowd before anyone else. The stolen moments that once felt thrilling now felt incomplete. He wanted more. He needed more.

It terrified him to admit it, even to himself. He had fallen for her—hard. Maybe it was the way she always challenged him, never letting his charm disarm her completely. Or maybe it was the softness she tried so hard to hide, the vulnerability he’d seen in fleeting moments when she let her guard down. Whatever it was, it had him completely wrapped around her finger.

But Carlos wasn’t blind. He had seen the way she avoided serious conversations, how she deflected with humor or brushed off his attempts to dig deeper. Whenever the topic of "what are we?" even hinted at surfacing, her walls would shoot up, impenetrable and unyielding.

So, he did the one thing he hated most—he distanced himself. He became irritable, short with her. But it was never about her; it was about his own fear of what was happening to him. He wanted to label what they had, but he knew that would only push her away.

It wasn’t drastic, not at first. He still kissed her in stolen moments, still smiled at her from across the paddock, but there was a hesitance now, a weight that neither of them could ignore. He became shorter in his texts, less playful in their banter. And while she noticed, she didn’t push at first.

Until she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“Carlos,” she asked, her voice soft but firm one evening. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting distant lately. Did I do something?”

He shifted uncomfortably, turning his gaze away. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes.

She could see right through him. “Don’t lie to me.”

His silence was answer enough. She pushed further, but he shut down, walking away from her again.

It was that night of free practice on another race weekend—when he slipped into her hotel room after everyone had gone to sleep—that the dam finally broke.

The air between them was thick with unsaid words. He had tried to stay calm, but the frustration had built to a point where it was impossible to keep it contained any longer. The moment Y/N opened the door to find him standing there, something snapped inside him.

Without a word, he stepped inside, grabbed her by the wrist, and pushed her in, slamming the door shut behind him. Before she could react, his hands were on her face, and his lips crashed against hers with a desperate intensity. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was frustration, longing, anger—all of it pouring into the kiss.

She froze for a second, overwhelmed by the force of it, before her hands found his chest, and she shoved him back with a force he wasn’t expecting.

“What the hell, Carlos?!” she snapped, breathing heavily, eyes wide with shock and something else she refused to name.

He stumbled back a step, running a hand through his hair, his own breath ragged. “I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“No. No more avoiding it,” she said, stepping closer, her voice sharp. “You’ve been acting like a complete asshole these past few days. Ignoring me, pulling away—what is wrong with you?”

He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes flashing. “What’s wrong with me? You really don’t know?”

“No, I don’t!” she shot back, frustration lacing her words. “So maybe stop acting like a damn child and say it.”

Carlos clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides before his eyes finally locked onto hers, dark and filled with something raw. “Fine. I can’t do this anymore,”

She looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Do what, Carlos?”

His chest tight. “This—this thing we’ve been doing. These… moments. I can’t just keep sneaking around, pretending like nothing’s wrong. I want more than whatever the hell this is.”

Y/N recoiled slightly, her eyes widening. “More? Carlos, what are you talking about?”

He stepped closer to her, his frustration giving way to the raw truth. “I’m in love with you, okay? I want more. I don’t want to sneak around anymore, I don’t want stolen kisses in the shadows. I want to know you—really know you. And I know you feel it too.” His voice softened for a second, but the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “So why are you running from it?”

Her heart pounded in her chest, her body screaming to close the distance between them, but she forced herself to stand her ground. “Carlos… I can’t. We can’t.”

His jaw clenched. “Why not?”

“Because I have responsibilities,” she said, forcing herself to say the words she had been repeating in her head for weeks. “I don’t come from old money like you. I have a family to take care of, a career I’ve worked my ass off for. I can’t afford to let myself get caught up in something that could ruin everything I’ve built. I can’t afford to let myself get... distracted.”

“Distracted?” he repeated, his voice bitter. “That’s all I am to you? A distraction?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said quickly, her voice breaking slightly. “But this—whatever this is—it’s not practical. I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for.”

Carlos stared at her, his breathing uneven. And then he let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “So that’s it? You’d rather walk away than take a chance on something real?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

His eyes darkened, and this time, when he took a step back, it was different. Colder.

“Fine,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “If that’s what you want.”

He turned and yanked the door open, slamming it behind him without looking back.

And just like that, he was gone.

The silence in the room felt suffocating after he left. The air still carried the ghost of his touch, the heat of his anger, the weight of his words.

I’m in love with you.

Her hands were still trembling, pressed against her sides as if holding herself together. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she hated it. Hated how shaken she felt. Hated how much Carlos’s words had burrowed into her skin.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the door.

Love? Did he really mean that?

No, he didn’t. He couldn’t. It was just the heat of the moment. Frustration, not love.

Wasn’t it?

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. She didn’t love him. She didn’t, right?

Love wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like chaos, like stolen moments in dimly lit rooms, like suffocating tension and unspoken words.

She had spent her whole life being careful. Careful about what she wanted, careful about what she chose. Love wasn’t a luxury she could afford.

And Carlos? Carlos was a risk. He was unpredictable, impossible, and dangerous—not in the reckless way people assumed, but in the way he made her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

He was right about one thing, though. She did feel something. She just didn’t know what the hell it was.

Love? No.

Attraction? Obviously.

Something else entirely?

She groaned, rubbing her face. She didn’t do this. She didn’t sit around analyzing her feelings like some lovesick idiot. She was Y/N. She was rational, level-headed, and—

The memory of his voice cut through her thoughts like a blade.

"I’m in love with you, okay? I want more."

Her stomach twisted, and she hated the sting behind her eyes.

No. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t let him get to her.

But as much as she tried to push it away, as much as she tried to convince herself that it didn’t matter, that it shouldn’t matter…

It did.

_________________________________________

Y/N arrived at the paddock early the next morning, throwing herself into work with a single-minded focus. She had always been good at compartmentalizing, at shoving away the things she didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to acknowledge.

Carlos made that impossible.

Even when she wasn’t looking at him, she felt his absence.

Not physically, of course. He was there—walking past her, speaking to his engineers, doing media duties—but it was like she didn’t exist to him.

Not a glance. Not a smirk. Not a sarcastic comment or a lingering brush of fingers when they crossed paths.

Nothing.

She told herself it didn’t bother her. She told herself she didn’t care.

But her hands tightened into fists when she saw him laughing at something Lando said. A laugh she hadn’t heard since the night before, when his voice had been rough with frustration, with anger, with—

No. Don’t go there.

She turned away and busied herself, fixing her camera settings and going through the pre-qualifying briefings. She was a professional. She had worked too damn hard to let him be a distraction.

And yet, she caught herself glancing at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Except—he never was.

Because Carlos wasn’t sparing her a single look.

She didn’t expect them to be okay overnight. Of course not. But the coldness, the distance, the way he had seemingly erased her from his world in less than twenty-four hours—she hadn’t expected that either.

And it stung.

It shouldn’t, but it did.

She kept her focus on work as the qualifying session began, watching from the media pen as cars flew past on track. Carlos was fast—of course he was—but she saw the difference. The usual smoothness of his driving was edged with something sharper, something reckless.

When his first lap came in a tenth slower than expected, the commentators noted it.

"Carlos Sainz looking a little off his usual rhythm today. A bit scrappy in sector two. Could just be the conditions, but it’s not the cleanest we’ve seen from him."

She pretended not to care.

She did her job, interviewed other drivers, avoided the ones who knew her too well—Charles, Lando, even Max, who had started picking up on things lately.

But when Q3 ended and Carlos climbed out of the car, P5 on the grid when he should’ve been fighting for the front row, Y/N felt the frustration radiating off him.

And still, not a single look in her direction.

Maybe this was for the best.

Maybe this was what they needed—to cut things off before they became something.

She inhaled deeply, gripping her press badge tighter than necessary.

She had made her choice last night.

Now, she just had to live with it. ___________________________________________________________________ Y/N barely made it back to her hotel room before the frustration boiled over.

She threw her phone onto the bed, ran her hands through her hair, and paced the small space, biting her lip. Why was this bothering her so much?

He’s mad to think I feel the same.

She needed to hear it out loud. Needed to convince herself.

Without thinking, she hit the video call button on her phone.

“Someone better be dying,” Angelina’s voice groaned from the screen as she and Meera appeared, both lounging in their respective homes.

“Carlos has lost his damn mind,” Y/N declared.

Meera perked up instantly, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Okay, I’m listening.”

I can’t do this. I can’t believe I thought it would be different."

She leaned back against the bed, crossing her arms, feeling like the world had suddenly become too small.

"What happened?" Meera asked, her voice soft, a tone Y/N knew meant she was already trying to figure out what was wrong.

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, feeling the pressure mounting. "He’s gone mad. He’s completely flipped. I can’t even get a simple look from him anymore. And that’s after everything that happened last night. All those stupid things he said. Like I’m supposed to feel the same as him. I never promised him anything. And I don’t—"

But before she could finish, Angelina cut her off.

"Y/N, you know that’s not true."

Y/N’s heart sank as her best friend continued. "I’ve been listening to you talk about him for months now. You’re constantly mentioning him, and the way you talk about him—it’s obvious you care. Maybe even more than you want to admit."

Y/N blinked, feeling the words like a slap.

"What the hell are you talking about? He doesn’t know anything about me. He’s got some messed-up idea in his head, and it’s not my fault!"

Meera chimed in, her tone still gentle but firm. "Y/N, stop fighting it. You know it’s the truth. You keep saying how you feel so… so lost without him. And honestly? It’s pretty clear to everyone except you that something’s there."

Y/N felt her blood boil. "I do not feel that way. I’m not even sure what this is anymore! And I’m certainly not going to let him twist things around!"

But her friends weren’t done yet.

"Y/N, we’re not saying it’s easy. But Carlos doesn’t just throw around his emotions like that. He’s not playing with you. He’s being real."

Y/N shot up from the bed, her hands trembling. "I’m not listening to this. You’re supposed to be my friends, but all you’re doing is making things worse! You have no idea how hard this for me”

Angelina’s voice softened. “Y/N, we’re just trying to help you see it. We’ve been watching you for months, and we can see it. Maybe it’s time you stop running away from it.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. Her friends were right, and they weren’t. She didn’t know what to feel anymore. Her emotions were all tangled up.

“I can’t do this right now,” she said abruptly, cutting the call short before either of them could respond.

She leaned back, her head spinning. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Just as she was about to throw her phone on the bed, a text notification popped up on her screen. It was from Lando.

Lando: "What’s wrong with Carlos?"

Y/N let out a bitter laugh. She wasn’t even sure why Lando was asking, but the irritation was too much to ignore. She replied quickly, her fingers tapping the screen with growing frustration.

Y/N: "How would I know?"

A few seconds later, Lando’s response pinged back.

Lando: "You and I both know you know what’s wrong with him."

Her fingers hovered over the screen, as she bit down on her lip, trying to stop herself from typing something rash. But Lando was right in some way, and it pissed her off.

Y/N: "No, Lando. I’m not his nanny to know everything about him."

She put the phone down on the bed, her heart hammering in her chest, fighting the emotions swirling inside her. She didn’t want to admit it, but a part of her knew Lando had a point. Carlos had changed. He was distant, and she was the reason he’d pulled away. The problem was, she didn’t even know what exactly to do about it.

And even worse—she didn’t know how to feel about the way she was missing him. ___________________________________________________________________________

Y/N had been drowning herself in work since the moment she stepped into the paddock that morning. The cameras, the reporters, the drivers moving in and out of the media pen—she forced herself to focus on all of it. Anything to keep her mind from spiraling back to him.

Carlos hadn’t spoken to her since that night. And while she could pretend it didn’t bother her, the weight in her chest said otherwise. The way he walked past her without so much as a glance, the way his name slipped into conversations only to leave her breathless—she hated all of it.

But today, she wouldn’t think about him.

She sat in the media room, fingers scrolling through notes, eyes darting between the live race feed and the interview schedules. The sound of the engines roaring through the track filled the background, but she wasn’t really listening—just letting the noise settle into a distant hum.

She buried herself in work, jotting down notes, adjusting the earpiece feeding her the race commentary, anything to keep her thoughts from drifting to Carlos.

"Lap 27, Sainz is closing in on P3—"

The commentator’s voice cut off.

A deafening crash split through the air, loud enough to rattle the walls of the media center. Gasps. Chairs scraping against the floor. People frozen in place.

Y/N didn’t realize she had stood up until her vision spun. Her breath hitched. The screens flickered—dust, debris, a wrecked car.

No. No, no, no—

A voice broke through the panic.

"Red flag. The race has been stopped. Massive incident involving Carlos Sainz."

Her pulse slammed against her ribs.

The replay flashed onto the screen, and her blood turned to ice.

Carlos had been fighting for position, too close to the car ahead. His front wing clipped the rear tire in front of him, sending his car into an uncontrollable spin. The back end lifted off the ground first. The car turned sideways, skidding at over 280 km/h before slamming into the barriers.

The impact was horrifying.

His car ricocheted off the first barrier, spinning violently before flipping over. It landed upside down and kept sliding, sparks flying as the halo scraped against the asphalt. Then, just when it seemed like it was over, it wasn’t. The remains of the car smashed into the tire barriers, bouncing back onto the track like a lifeless toy.

Flames flickered around the engine cover.

No radio from Carlos. No movement.

The world went silent.

Y/N couldn’t breathe.

Her legs gave out, but she caught herself against the desk. Voices blurred. People moved around her, but it was all distant, muffled, like she was underwater.

He’s fine. He’s fine. Nothing will happen to him.

She clenched her hands into fists. She wouldn’t cry. She would not cry.

But her entire body trembled.

The pit lane was in chaos. Williams’ garage was frozen, mechanics standing with their hands covering their mouths. The medical car had already sped onto the track, marshals rushing toward the wreck.

But there was no update.

No sign of Carlos.

No radio.

The trembling worsened. Her heart pounded so hard she thought she might pass out.

Then—two hands grabbed her shoulders.

"Y/N!"

She barely registered Lando’s voice before he crouched in front of her, gripping her arms. His face was pale, eyes wide with fear. Charles stood right behind him, equally shaken.

"Hey, hey, breathe, alright?" Lando said urgently, but Y/N could barely hear him over the deafening ringing in her ears.

No update. No movement.

"Where is he?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"We don’t know yet," Charles admitted, his own hands trembling. "But he’s strong, Y/N. He’s strong, and the halo protected him."

She shook her head, unable to speak.

Because what if she did, and her voice cracked? What if saying it out loud made it real?

What if she broke?

The screens kept replaying the crash. Over and over. The sickening impact. The way his car twisted midair. The way it disintegrated against the barriers.

And all she could think about was their last conversation.

The way he had looked at her, eyes burning with frustration and something deeper—something raw. The look in his eyes when he had told her he loved her, and she had thrown it back in his face.

If she lost him now—if this was the last memory she had of him—she wouldn’t survive it.

Her world wasn’t F1. It wasn’t journalism. It wasn’t her career.

It was him.

And if something happened to Carlos, she wouldn’t survive

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