lvmoure

[lvmoure]

Baby Fever CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x reader

Summary: In which they are both ready to step into the next label.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

You always wanted to be a mother. Sure, that feeling had been quietly humming in the background of your life, an almost imperceptible ache that grew steadily, but with each passing day, it had become stronger. And then came Carlos, so full of life, his laughter, his spirit—it was easy to imagine what a child of his would be like. It was easy to picture a little version of him running around, their laughter echoing like his, their eyes bright and curious, filled with the same intensity. But that conversation hadn’t come up yet, at least not seriously. So when you two were asked to babysit the nieces and nephews for a day, it felt like fate had a way of pushing things along.

The house was a flurry of tiny, rapid footsteps and loud giggles, toys scattered around like the remnants of a colorful hurricane. You and Carlos sat in the living room, surrounded by your nieces and nephews—three kids, all under the age of six, with boundless energy that made your head spin just watching. You’d spent most of the morning playing referee, distributing snacks, and occasionally rescuing someone from a tiny, toddler-sized disaster.

Carlos leaned back on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the cushions, watching you as you coaxed little Ana out of her hiding spot behind the couch with promises of her favorite juice. He shot you that lopsided grin, the one that told you he was just as entertained watching you in action as he was by the kids themselves.

“You’re a natural, you know that?” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear over the din of the children. His eyes had softened, a flicker of something warm and tender lingering there as he watched you.

You gave him a little smirk, tilting your head as you shrugged. “I think they’re just easily bribed with juice.”

Carlos chuckled, but his gaze lingered, like he was seeing something deeper. The kids were a whirlwind, tugging at his hands, demanding his attention just as much as yours. Ana climbed into his lap at one point, babbling about a story she half-invented, and he listened with exaggerated nods and expressions that had her giggling and clapping her hands in delight. You watched, heart swelling a bit as he played along, his big hands carefully adjusting her tiny, mismatched socks as she tried to describe an adventure involving a princess and a dragon.

Carlos had always been good with kids. He had a playful, patient streak that you couldn’t help but admire. He could make them laugh with the silliest faces, and he listened to their stories like they were the most important tales he’d ever heard. He was gentle with them in a way that made your heart ache a little bit more, that made you picture what it would be like if he were playing like this with a child that was truly yours.

As the afternoon wore on, it became clear that the kids were getting antsy. When Mateo, your five-year-old nephew, started whining about going to the park, you exchanged a look with Carlos.

“How about it?” Carlos asked, nudging you. “Think you can handle a few hours outdoors?”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, nodding. “Let’s go, little ones. Grab your shoes!”

The sun was warm but gentle as you made your way to the park, your nephew Mateo holding onto your hand, chattering about his bike with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He was getting better at riding, but he still needed someone nearby, just in case. Carlos was by your side, his arm slung around your shoulders as you walked together, the two of you flanking Mateo like a protective shield.

Once at the park, you helped Mateo onto his little bike, adjusting his helmet and giving him an encouraging smile. “You ready to show us some cool tricks, little man?”

He beamed, a shy little nod as he gripped the handlebars and pedaled with a mix of concentration and excitement. You watched him with a tender expression, your hands hovering near him as he rode in small, careful loops.

Carlos leaned against a tree nearby, arms crossed, watching the two of you with an amused grin. “You’re babying him,” he teased softly, laughter in his voice.

You glanced back at him, giving him a mock glare. “He’s five, Carlos. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t fall on his face.”

He shrugged, but he kept watching, that warm, thoughtful look never leaving his eyes. You couldn’t help yourself; you crouched down, offering Mateo a quick high-five when he completed another successful lap around you. “You’re getting really good at this, you know? Soon, you’ll be riding like a pro.”

Carlos chuckled softly behind you, and you shot him a sidelong glance, hoping maybe he’d pick up on the way you looked at Mateo, the way you held his little hands and clapped for every small victory. But Carlos, ever the racer, seemed more focused on encouraging Mateo���s speed than anything else.

---

The park outing had gone well, and as the sun started to dip, the three of you made your way back. You were a little tired, but a sense of peace had settled over you, a kind of warmth that lingered even after you’d waved goodbye to Mateo and returned him to his parents.

But then Carlos had to go and be his usual self—playfully dense, occasionally oblivious in the most endearing way. Back at the house, he’d start poking fun, saying, “You’re really good at this, you know. Maybe I should be the one that needs babying around here.”

You just rolled your eyes, a little annoyed but amused. “Very funny, Carlos. Maybe I’m just practicing for the real thing, ever thought of that?”

“Oh, you mean more babysitting gigs?” He feigned innocence, that sly grin telling you he knew exactly what you meant. But he’d drawn it out, pretending not to catch your hints. It was almost maddening, the way he could pretend to be oblivious.

At one point, he’d even leaned close, murmuring into your ear, “I think you’d be an amazing mother.”

Your heart had skipped a beat, but he’d just grinned, kissing the top of your head as if he hadn’t just thrown you off balance with those words.

---

The next day, you both found yourselves wandering the mall. It was supposed to be a quick trip for groceries, but as you passed a baby shop—full of tiny clothes, soft blankets, and adorable little shoes—you couldn’t help but stop, your gaze lingering on a display of baby onesies.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, following your line of sight. “Something catch your eye?” he asked, his voice tinged with that playful edge, and you turned to him with a pointed look, letting your gaze drop deliberately to the baby clothes.

“Oh, I don’t know… Just thinking how cute it would be to have a little one of our own wearing something like this.” You said it casually, trying to keep the edge of hopefulness out of your voice.

But Carlos, ever the tease, just shrugged, giving you an exaggerated, thoughtful nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Our nieces and nephews would look adorable in that.”

You had to resist the urge to smack his arm, biting back an exasperated laugh as he gave you a wink, thoroughly enjoying his role as the clueless one.

Later that evening, after you’d both finally had enough of dancing around the topic, you found yourselves back at home, sitting together on the couch, a comfortable silence filling the space between you. You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to finally lay it all out, not a hint, not a joke—just honesty.

“Carlos,” you began softly, looking down at your hands, “I… I really do want a child. With you. And I’ve been dropping hints, but I think maybe it’s time I just… say it.”

Carlos looked at you for a long moment, his expression softening, a hint of surprise mixed with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his fingers warm and steady around yours.

“You should’ve just said so,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion as he gave you a gentle smile. “I want that too. I’ve wanted it for a while. I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, a mix of relief and joy flooding your chest as you squeezed his hands. “I am ready. I’ve been ready for so long.”

Carlos pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice a quiet promise in your ear. “Then let’s make it happen. Our little family.”

[lvmoure]

His Five Love Language CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz and his five love languages during your vacation in Bora Bora with him.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

A/N: follow me on Wattpad: Snxzlvr

Words of Affirmation

The sky is painted in shades of pink and gold as the sun dips slowly below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the sparkling turquoise water. The air is humid and fragrant, tinged with the scent of blooming hibiscus and the salty breeze from the ocean. You lean back into the soft white sand, the coolness beneath you a welcome contrast to the day’s warmth, and beside you, Carlos is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching you with that warm, unwavering gaze that’s become so familiar.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you like this,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a kind of intensity that makes your heart skip.

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes. I was starting to wonder if I had something on my face.”

He reaches out, brushing a thumb gently along your cheek, his touch feather-light. “No, no. No imperfections. Just… you. Even the way your eyes catch the light here, it’s like they were made to reflect these sunsets.”

The sincerity in his tone makes you pause. You’ve heard compliments from him before, of course, but tonight there’s something more. Something that feels deeply honest, like he’s been holding these thoughts inside and they’re finally spilling out under the soft glow of the island sunset.

“Carlos…” you begin, your cheeks warming under his gaze, “you’re going to spoil me with all these compliments.”

He grins, that mischievous spark flashing in his eyes. “Is that so bad? I want you to feel spoiled. You deserve it,” he says, taking your hand and lacing his fingers through yours. “Every word I say is true, you know. Even if you think I’m just being cheesy.”

Your thumb traces circles over his hand, grounding you as he speaks, because something about the way he’s looking at you feels… monumental. As if, for Carlos, seeing you here like this has cemented something unspoken between you both.

“You know,” he continues, gazing out over the water for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, “I’m not sure if I say it enough. But…you make me feel like I’ve found something rare. Something I didn’t even know I was looking for.”

The words settle over you like the gentle waves lapping at the shore. It’s more than a compliment; it’s an admission, one that seems to come from somewhere deep within him. You squeeze his hand, leaning closer as you both sink further into this rare, quiet moment.

“Do you remember,” he asks suddenly, “that time in Barcelona when we got completely lost looking for that restaurant?” He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the memory. “We must have walked for miles. And I was so sure I knew the way.”

You laugh, nodding. “You were absolutely certain. And yet, every turn was the wrong one.”

Carlos laughs, the sound rich and full, echoing into the quiet evening. “Yes, every turn was wrong, but the whole time, you never complained once. Not once. And I thought…” He pauses, running a hand through his hair, his gaze softening. “I thought, who else would be this patient with me? Who else would laugh and say, ‘It’s okay, Carlos, we’ll find it eventually,’ even when I clearly had no idea where we were?”

His voice lowers, and he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers. “You make me feel like no matter how lost I am, I’ll find my way. Because I have you.”

The words settle deep within you, and for a moment, you’re at a loss for words. Carlos’s honesty, the way he speaks straight from his heart—it’s overwhelming in the best possible way. And as he continues to hold your gaze, you can see the sincerity behind every word.

“Carlos…” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper, “that means more than you know.”

He gives you a small, almost shy smile. “Good. Because I don’t think I could ever say it enough.”

You spend the next few moments in comfortable silence, the sound of the waves filling the space between you. The sky has grown darker now, the stars beginning to blink into view, scattered like diamonds across the inky blue canvas. The world feels like it’s shrinking, just you and Carlos here on this beach, wrapped in each other’s presence.

Carlos shifts slightly, leaning in closer until his face is just inches from yours. “Do you know what else I love about you?” he asks softly, his voice a low murmur.

You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I am. But it’s true. I love the way you’re so… kind to everyone around you. I’ve seen the way you go out of your way to make people feel comfortable, even when you’re tired, or when you think no one’s watching. You’re… you’re just good, in a way I can’t quite explain.” His gaze meets yours, earnest and open. “And I admire that. More than I can put into words.”

You feel a warmth spreading through you at his words, a kind of glow that makes you feel seen and valued in a way that’s rare. “Thank you, Carlos,” you whisper, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.”

“Well, they should have,” he says, a little defensively, before his expression softens. “I just… I want you to know, I see all these things about you. And I love every single one of them.”

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and then another to the tip of your nose, his touch soft and tender. “You have no idea how much you mean to me,” he murmurs against your skin.

As the night deepens, Carlos continues to open up, sharing memories and thoughts he’s never told anyone else. With every word, he paints a picture of his admiration, his respect, and his deep affection for you, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket, making you feel cherished and adored.

And as he holds you there, under the starlit sky, you realize that this—these words of affirmation, his open and honest love—is a gift you never knew you needed.

Quality Time

The soft rustle of palm leaves fills the air as you step barefoot onto the wooden deck of the bungalow, your eyes squinting slightly from the warm glow of the morning sun. The turquoise waters of Bora Bora stretch out endlessly, lapping gently against the shore, and the quiet hum of the island seems to slow time itself.

Carlos is standing at the railing of the deck, looking out over the water, his back to you. The sunlight catches the strands of his hair, turning them to gold as he turns his head and smiles when he hears your footsteps.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice deep, a touch raspy from sleep. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Thought I’d let you sleep in.”

You stretch, feeling the slight ache in your muscles from the day before, but it’s a welcome sensation, a reminder of how much you’ve walked, how much you’ve laughed, how much you’ve shared with Carlos in these first few days.

The island has a way of making you feel like time slows down. Like every minute here is yours, and yours alone.

“I needed that sleep,” you admit, smiling back at him. You step closer to the railing, standing beside him and taking in the sight of the vibrant lagoon, the corals shimmering beneath the surface of the water.

Carlos reaches out, resting a hand on your back, a small, grounding gesture that makes you feel safe, settled, and content. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

For a few moments, neither of you speaks. You simply take in the serenity of the place, the waves gently crashing against the shore, the scent of saltwater filling the air. You can’t remember the last time you felt so… peaceful. There are no deadlines, no obligations, just the endless beauty of the world around you and the person standing beside you.

“So,” Carlos says after a while, breaking the silence. He turns to face you, a playful glint in his eyes. “What do you want to do today? No plans, no schedules. Just you and me. I figured we could enjoy the whole day, no rush.”

The thought of spending the whole day with him, uninterrupted and unhurried, fills you with a quiet thrill. It’s rare—especially with his busy schedule—that you get this kind of undivided attention. And somehow, it feels like the perfect opportunity to really connect with him.

“I don’t know,” you muse, looking out at the horizon for a moment. “Maybe we could go snorkeling? Or take one of those boat tours?”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, glancing over at you. “I like the idea of snorkeling, but I think it might be better if we just… let the day unfold. What do you think?”

You smile, already feeling the warmth of his enthusiasm. He has a way of making everything sound exciting, even the simplest of ideas. You nod, feeling the peacefulness of the island seep into you.

“Let’s just see where the day takes us,” you agree.

He grins widely, his eyes lighting up. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

The next few hours unfold in the most effortless way, the two of you moving in tandem, like a dance. You start with a leisurely breakfast on the deck, with fresh fruits, croissants, and tropical juices. Carlos keeps you laughing, telling stories from his childhood, recounting the time he tried (and failed) to make his first attempt at cooking a meal for his family.

“I swear, I thought it was a good idea at the time, besides I was just 9 or 8 years old that time,” he says, shaking his head, a laugh escaping him. “I had everything ready—the pasta, the sauce, everything. But somehow, I managed to burn the pasta, over-salt the sauce, and even the salad was soggy. I think it was the most tragic dinner in family history.”

You chuckle, imagining the scene. “What did your family do?”

“My dad… well, let’s just say he’s a man of few words,” Carlos explains, shaking his head with a wry smile. “He took one bite and said, ‘Carlos, you’re a great driver, but cooking is not your forte.’”

You laugh harder, the sound of it echoing in the quiet morning.

“You’re lucky he was so patient with you,” you tease. “Most parents would have been horrified.”

“I don’t know,” Carlos says, leaning back in his chair, his hand resting on the edge of the table. “I think my mom was just relieved when I started getting good at something. I’m pretty sure she still talks about it to this day, just to remind me how I was, uh, not the best in the kitchen.”

You smile at the image of his family, the warmth in his voice as he speaks about them making you feel even closer to him. And as the conversation flows effortlessly from topic to topic, you realize how rare it is to have this kind of ease with someone—to just be present in the moment without the pressure of external distractions.

After breakfast, you both decide to take a walk along the beach, your feet sinking into the soft sand with every step. The island feels endless, its beauty unmatched, and for the first time in a long while, you feel like you have all the time in the world.

Carlos takes your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. “This is perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and content. “Just us. No rush. No one else to think about.”

You nod in agreement, your hand squeezing his. “I couldn’t agree more. I’ve never felt so… at peace. I could stay here forever.”

For a moment, Carlos is quiet, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. He looks down at your intertwined hands, his expression softening. “I’m glad we’re here. With everything that’s happened this year, I just wanted some time to really be with you. No distractions. Just us.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling at his words. You’ve always admired his focus and determination, but in this moment, you see a side of him that’s rarely exposed—a side that craves simplicity and connection.

And that connection deepens as the day unfolds. You spend hours swimming in the warm, crystal-clear waters, exploring the coral reefs and laughing as fish of every color swim past you. Carlos is more than just a partner here; he’s your guide, showing you the beauty of the world through his eyes.

Later, as you both lay on a hammock by the water, wrapped in towels, he turns to you with a soft smile. “You know, I could never get bored of this,” he says, his voice steady and content. “Spending time with you like this… it’s all I ever need.”

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster, and realize, with perfect clarity, that this is what matters most. No distractions, no noise, just the two of you, immersed in the simple, quiet moments that create a bond deeper than anything words could describe.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, you and Carlos sit in comfortable silence, watching the colors shift across the horizon. Every moment feels like it’s suspended in time, a beautiful snapshot of the life you’re building together.

For once, nothing else matters—only the shared moments between you, as if the whole world has faded away, leaving just you and him, side by side, in this perfect corner of the earth.

“This day… this whole trip,” Carlos says, his voice breaking the silence, “I want to remember it forever. Because it’s us. Just us, without anything else.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence and the weight of his words. “I’ll remember it too,” you whisper. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

And for the rest of the evening, you remain there, together—no rush, no expectations, just the two of you, fully immersed in each other’s company, sharing a bond that feels as timeless and deep as the ocean that surrounds you.

Physical touch

The sun is high in the sky, casting its golden glow over the sparkling turquoise waters of Bora Bora, the waves gently kissing the soft sand at the shore. You’re lounging on the beach, the warmth of the sun sinking into your skin, with the sound of distant laughter and the occasional seagull overhead. Beside you, Carlos sits close, his presence a constant, the easy comfort of his hand resting on the small of your back. Even in this paradise, there’s no escaping the magnetic pull between you two—the connection that, at times, feels like it could burn the very air you breathe.

Carlos’s fingers move in slow circles against your skin, an absent gesture as he watches the water, but you can feel it—the heat of his touch. It’s like a constant reminder of his closeness, of his attention, and of the fact that, in this moment, you belong to him, as much as he belongs to you.

You shift slightly, turning to face him. The soft breeze ruffles his hair, and there’s a faint trace of salt in the air. His gaze flickers to you, a glint of something playful in his eyes. "Is it just me, or does this place keep getting better every time I look at you?"

You chuckle, rolling your eyes affectionately. "Carlos, you’re terrible. Complimenting me every few minutes." You say it in jest, but his hands are still there—soft, warm, secure—and it sends a flutter through you.

He shrugs, unfazed. "Can’t help it. I’ve got a lot to say. You’re a distraction, you know? I can't think of anything else when you're around."

You laugh again, brushing the hair out of your face, but something in the air shifts. It’s as if the world knows this moment belongs to the two of you, and for the first time today, you notice the group of young men a few meters away, standing under the shade of a large umbrella, trying to catch your eye. They’re talking and laughing among themselves, but their glances flick towards you every so often, their gazes lingering longer than they should.

Carlos notices too.

The mood changes subtly, but it’s enough for you to sense the tension in his posture, the tightening of his jaw, the way his hand shifts from your back to your thigh, resting there with possessive certainty. He leans slightly closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Don’t even think about looking at them. They’re not worth your attention.”

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Carlos, we’re on vacation. They’re just… admiring the view.”

His hand moves, his thumb brushing lightly along the inside of your knee, a soft, but deliberate gesture that sends a shiver through you. “I don’t care about that,” he says, his voice low and controlled, a hint of possessiveness lacing his words. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you. You’re mine.”

The heat in his words sparks something in you, a deeper pull, a desire for more of his attention. His touch, even casual, holds an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. You look at him now, your gaze meeting his, and for a moment, time slows. There’s no one else on this beach, no other sound, just the two of you and the magnetic force that binds you together.

"Is that how you feel?" you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the challenge is there in your eyes.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your temple as his hand moves from your knee up to the curve of your waist. His fingers graze the exposed skin beneath your tank top, a touch so light it might have been an accident, yet it sends sparks to every nerve in your body.

“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he admits, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve got me completely tangled up in you.”

Before you can respond, one of the beach boys—one of the group eyeing you earlier—takes a step closer, a broad grin on his face as he confidently approaches. He’s dressed casually, his sunglasses perched on his nose, his stance easy and relaxed. “Hey there,” he says, his voice smooth and clearly directed at you, a little too forward for your liking. “Having a good day?”

Carlos’s hand tightens at your side, his fingers pressing more firmly into your waist as he shifts, subtly, to place himself between you and the newcomer. The move is so effortless, so smooth, it feels almost like a shield. His posture straightens, a slight tension in his body signaling that he’s aware of the intrusion, aware of the potential threat.

The beach boy doesn't miss it. His smile falters just a bit, but he doesn’t back off. “I was just making sure you’re okay, you know? Bora Bora is a paradise, but you can always use some good company.”

Carlos doesn't even look at him. His hand on your waist subtly pulls you closer, his palm sliding down to your hip as he presses his body against yours. It’s an unspoken statement—one that makes it clear you’re not available for anyone else’s attention.

You glance at Carlos, raising an eyebrow at his territorial display. “Carlos,” you say, a little amused, but your voice drops slightly as his hand slides down the curve of your back, guiding you even closer to him. The physical closeness sends a spark of heat through you.

He looks down at you, his lips curling into a smirk as he pulls you slightly tighter against him. “What? Don’t you like me taking care of you?” His words are light, but his eyes hold a possessive edge, a fire that is unmistakable.

The beach boy, noticing the subtle shift in the air, decides it’s time to back off, retreating with a muttered “Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude.” You don’t need to look to know that Carlos has already won this silent battle, and the stranger is well aware of it.

As the young man moves away, Carlos’s grip loosens on you, but only just enough for you to breathe. His hand slides from your waist to your back again, his fingers gentle as they trace up your spine. The touch is soft, almost reverent, but it still feels like an anchor. It feels like he’s marking you—claiming you, even in the most subtle of ways.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, as if needing to remind you. His voice, low and steady, holds a tenderness now, an intimacy that only you understand. “I don’t care about anyone else, especially not them.”

You’re quiet for a moment, soaking in the intensity of his words, the heat of his touch. “You’re very possessive, you know that?”

Carlos looks down at you, his expression softening for a second, before that familiar spark returns to his eyes. “I don’t apologize for it. I don’t want anyone else getting close to you. You’re too precious to me.”

His lips find yours then, urgent, possessive, and hungry. His hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss as his other hand slides to your hip. He doesn’t care who’s watching now. His lips taste yours with an intensity that takes your breath away, as if he’s determined to imprint this moment, this feeling, onto your very soul.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you see the raw, honest emotion in his eyes. There’s no holding back now, no pretending. He’s laid bare before you—his need, his desire, his love—and in return, you give him everything. You place your hands on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart, knowing that this connection between you is unshakable.

“You’re right,” you whisper, leaning in again to kiss the corner of his mouth, the soft stubble grazing your lips. “I am yours.”

Carlos’s eyes darken at your words, and he pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, his hands sliding over your body with a sense of urgency that makes you dizzy. You feel him, all of him, every inch of his body pressed against yours, his hands roaming with a possessiveness that sends waves of heat flooding through you.

When he pulls away, just enough to look you in the eyes, he says, his voice thick with desire, “Don’t forget it.”

And as the sun sets over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you can’t help but feel the weight of his words settle into your heart. In this moment, you belong to him, and he belongs to you. And nothing—nothing at all—will ever change that.

Acts of Service

The golden hues of sunset spill across the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink, orange, and purple as you sit on the edge of the patio, your legs tucked beneath you, overlooking the lush greenery and the tranquil waters. Bora Bora, with its endless beauty, has become a backdrop for you and Carlos—an idyllic paradise where time feels like it stands still, and the world outside the two of you simply ceases to matter.

You’ve spent the day exploring the island, hiking through its hidden trails, laughing at the little things along the way—like when Carlos, in his infinite charm, slipped on a rock while trying to show off his balance. You both had laughed so hard that even the birds in the trees seemed to join in. But now, as the day winds down and the warmth of the sun begins to fade, a different kind of peacefulness settles over you.

Carlos, as always, is attuned to your every need, like a quiet force of nature that never tires of making you feel cared for. He’s always been this way—the kind of man who listens to your smallest requests and sees to them without hesitation. And today, just like every other day in Bora Bora, that care has been both subtle and constant.

You lean back into the lounge chair, closing your eyes, letting the warmth of the air wrap around you like a soft blanket. You’re almost lulled into a sense of serenity when you hear Carlos’s voice behind you, warm and steady, as he approaches.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks, his voice full of concern, though his tone is casual, like it’s second nature to make sure you’re okay.

You nod, smiling as you open your eyes and meet his gaze. There he stands, looking as effortlessly handsome as always, his hair tousled from the wind, a soft smile playing at his lips. But it’s not his smile or his appearance that catches your attention—no, it’s the way his gaze lingers on you, his eyes scanning you as if you’re something precious, something worthy of his time.

“I’m great,” you reply, the sincerity in your voice echoing the calm contentment that’s washed over you. “This place is perfect. And so are you, for making everything feel so effortless.”

Carlos grins at your compliment, his eyes lighting up with that trademark charm of his. He steps closer, pausing for a moment before kneeling down beside you, his hands moving to adjust the cushion under your head, making sure you’re perfectly comfortable. It’s the little things like this that remind you of how attentive he is—how much he values your comfort, your happiness.

“You’re sure you’re comfortable?” he asks again, his hands gently shifting the fabric of the cushion beneath you. “You’ve been walking all day, and I don’t want you to end up sore tomorrow.”

You reach up to place your hand over his, your touch a silent reassurance. “I’m fine, Carlos. You don’t need to keep checking on me.”

His lips curl into a smile, but his concern doesn’t waver. “I know, but I can’t help it. You deserve to be pampered, especially on a vacation like this.” His voice is soft, sincere, like he means every word. “If there’s anything you need, you just say the word.”

You feel a wave of affection wash over you as you look into his eyes, feeling the care and thoughtfulness radiating from him. His words aren’t just polite—they’re genuine. Carlos has always been the kind of person who finds joy in taking care of others, in making them feel special. It’s the mark of a true gentleman, and you’ve always admired it about him.

Before you can respond, Carlos rises to his feet and moves toward the small table beside the lounge chairs. He picks up the bottle of sunscreen, carefully unscrews the cap, and turns back to you with a thoughtful expression.

“Here, let me,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. There’s no room for argument in his tone, though there’s a warmth to it that makes you smile. He walks over to you with the bottle in hand and kneels in front of you, his fingers brushing lightly over your shoulders.

“You’re going to burn if you stay out here too long without sunscreen,” he warns, his voice playful but laced with concern. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

You chuckle softly, touched by his attentiveness. “Carlos, you really don’t have to…”

But he shakes his head, already uncapping the bottle and pouring a small amount into his palm. “It’s no trouble,” he reassures you, his eyes meeting yours, his touch gentle as he begins to rub the sunscreen into your shoulders and arms, his movements methodical and careful. “You’re here to relax. Let me do the work.”

You close your eyes as his hands work their magic, spreading the sunscreen over your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. The simple act of him caring for you—of him being so attuned to your well-being—fills you with a sense of calm. It’s not just the act itself, but the meaning behind it. It’s the thoughtfulness, the way he wants to make sure you’re always taken care of, even in the smallest ways.

As he finishes with your arms, he moves to your legs, gently lifting one at a time to apply the sunscreen. His hands move slowly, deliberately, with a level of care that is almost hypnotic. You can’t help but watch him, mesmerized by the ease with which he moves, the way he seems to anticipate your every need without being asked.

“You’re quiet,” Carlos observes, glancing up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Are you enjoying the attention?”

You laugh softly, not able to hide the fondness in your voice. “I’ve never had someone take care of me this much before. It’s nice.”

Carlos’s expression softens, and he finishes up with your legs before sitting back on his heels. He looks up at you, his hands resting lightly on your thighs as he meets your gaze. “I like doing it,” he says, his voice quiet, almost shy in its sincerity. “I like making sure you’re happy. And when I’m with you, I want everything to be perfect.”

You smile at him, your heart swelling at his words. There’s something undeniably special about how he shows his affection—not just through words, but through actions. And in a world where words can often be hollow, his actions speak louder than anything.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” you say, your voice full of warmth and affection.

Carlos grins, his usual playfulness returning as he stands up and stretches. “You have no idea,” he teases. “But you’re lucky I’m such a gentleman. Not everyone would take such good care of you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips gives you away. “I’ll make sure to remind you of that every day.”

He chuckles, then leans down to kiss your forehead, a soft, loving gesture that takes you by surprise. His lips linger just for a moment, and then he pulls back, his hand brushing through your hair. “Just promise me you’ll let me pamper you as much as I want.”

You nod, your heart full. “I promise.”

The evening continues to unfold in the most effortless way. As the sun sets, Carlos insists on preparing dinner, despite the fact that you both could easily have just ordered in. He’s not the type to shy away from the kitchen, and it’s clear that he takes pride in making things for you. The way he moves around the small kitchen, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and humming softly to himself as he works, reminds you of how thoughtful he truly is—how much he enjoys taking care of those he loves.

By the time dinner is ready, the table is set perfectly, with candles flickering gently in the evening breeze, casting a soft glow over the two of you. Carlos pulls out your chair for you, just like he always does, and waits for you to sit before sitting across from you with a satisfied grin.

“You’re going to love this,” he says, his eyes sparkling with pride. “I made my special pasta recipe. It’s nothing fancy, but I think you’ll appreciate the effort.”

You take a bite, and the flavors explode in your mouth, warm and rich, and you can’t help but let out a small moan of delight.

“This is incredible,” you murmur, looking up at him with admiration. “You really know how to take care of people, don’t you?”

Carlos shrugs modestly, though the pride in his eyes is impossible to hide. “It’s what I do best.”

And in that moment, as the two of you sit across from each other, the soft glow of the candles flickering between you, you realize just how much you’ve come to appreciate the small, simple gestures—the acts of service that Carlos shows you every day. It’s not just about the big, grand moments; it’s about the quiet, tender ways he takes care of you, making sure you feel loved, valued, and cherished.

“You’re amazing,” you whisper, your heart full.

Carlos reaches across the table, his hand resting over yours as he gives it a soft squeeze. “You don’t need to say anything. I’m just happy to make you happy.”

And with that, as the evening deepens and the stars begin to twinkle above, you feel the weight of his love—gentle, unwavering, and constant, like the steady rhythm of the waves lapping against the shore outside your window.

Receiving gifts

The evening sky is painted in shades of deep blue and purple, the stars beginning to twinkle like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse above you. The air is cool, a refreshing breeze brushing against your skin as you sit on the porch of your overwater bungalow in Bora Bora, a cup of chilled coconut water in your hand. You’re staring out at the moonlit ocean, the gentle waves lapping against the stilts beneath the house, lost in the serene beauty of the moment.

Carlos is beside you, as always, but there’s a quiet intensity in his demeanor tonight. He’s been unusually thoughtful, more so than usual, and there’s a feeling that something is on the horizon—something he’s been planning, though you can’t quite place it. As if he’s trying to tell you something without words, his eyes flickering to you more often than usual, his hand occasionally brushing against yours, his touch lingering just a second longer.

“Carlos,” you ask, finally breaking the silence. “What’s on your mind?”

He looks at you then, a smile tugging at his lips, but there’s a hint of something else in his gaze—something playful, mischievous even. He leans back slightly, stretching his legs out in front of him, and with a slight smirk, he says, “Nothing much. Just thinking about how lucky I am to be here with you.”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “I don’t believe you. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Carlos chuckles, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, he looks away, like he’s trying to figure out how to say what’s on his mind. When he finally speaks again, his voice is soft, the words coming out slowly, almost as if he’s choosing them carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about how much you’ve done for me since we’ve been together. All the little things you do without asking, the way you care for me without ever expecting anything in return. It means a lot, more than you might realize.” He pauses, turning to face you fully, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. “And I wanted to show you how much it matters to me.”

You blink, surprised by his admission, unsure of what he means by this sudden wave of gratitude. “Carlos, you don’t have to do anything for me,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I’m happy just being here with you.”

His lips curl into a smile, though there’s a glint of determination in his eyes. “I know you don’t want anything. You’re the type who never asks for things, but I want to give you something. I need to.”

Before you can protest further, he stands up and moves towards the small side table next to your chair. You watch him, confused, as he pulls a small box out from beneath it. It’s wrapped in a simple brown paper, tied with twine, nothing too extravagant, but it’s the effort that catches your attention.

“Carlos,” you begin, shaking your head gently. “You know I don’t need gifts. Really.”

He ignores you, his eyes focused on the box as he walks back toward you. When he stops in front of you, he kneels down, holding the gift out with both hands, his expression soft but firm.

“I know you don’t,” he says, his voice steady, “but I want to give this to you anyway. Please.”

You take the box from him reluctantly, your fingers brushing against his for a moment before you pull it into your lap. Carlos’s gaze doesn’t waver, his eyes locked on you with a quiet intensity, as if he’s waiting for something—the moment when you finally open the gift.

With a sigh, you untie the twine and peel back the paper, revealing a small, elegant wooden box. It’s simple, but there’s something timeless about it—something that makes you feel a sense of warmth just from looking at it. You glance at Carlos, who watches you with an almost childlike excitement, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he waits for your reaction.

Slowly, you lift the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in soft velvet, is a delicate gold necklace, the pendant shaped like a small, intricate wave. It’s beautiful—stunning, even—but it’s not the price or the elegance that catches your breath. It’s the thought behind it, the way it symbolizes the island—the water, the waves, the very essence of where you are, of this moment in time that feels so special, so perfect.

For a moment, you’re speechless, overwhelmed by the gesture. You feel a lump form in your throat, the emotions rising up unexpectedly. But you shake your head, trying to push them down.

“Carlos, I don’t know what to say,” you finally manage to whisper, looking up at him. “It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this. You really didn’t have to do this.”

He smiles softly, leaning in closer, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. “I know you don’t want gifts. But I need you to know how much you mean to me, how much you’ve changed my life. And sometimes, the only way I can show you is with something tangible. A reminder of what you mean to me.”

His words settle deep in your chest, and for a moment, you consider arguing again—telling him that it’s too much, that you don’t need anything from him. But you know deep down that it’s not about the necklace. It’s not about the material thing. It’s about the gesture, the thought behind it, the love that it represents.

“I know you don’t need anything from me,” Carlos continues, his hand still resting against your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin there. “But I want to give you things. I want to make you feel special. Because you are.”

You stare at him for a long moment, the sincerity in his eyes washing over you like a wave. You feel that familiar pull in your chest, the warmth of his love surrounding you. Slowly, you reach for the necklace, lifting it from its box. The pendant catches the light of the stars, the subtle gold reflecting in the moonlight.

“Okay,” you finally say, your voice soft, but filled with emotion. “I’ll wear it. Because it’s from you.”

Carlos’s smile widens, a mixture of relief and happiness crossing his face. “Thank you,” he whispers, reaching out to gently fasten the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin as he does. “You look perfect.”

You feel the cool metal settle against your skin, the weight of it comforting and grounding, a symbol of your bond, of this trip, of this love that feels both fragile and eternal. As Carlos finishes securing the clasp, his hands linger on your shoulders for a moment, his touch tender and loving.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s unsure.

You nod, your heart full. “I love it. Thank you, Carlos. You didn’t have to, but I’m really glad you did.”

He leans in to kiss your forehead, the kiss soft and sweet, a promise of more moments like this—of the quiet, meaningful gestures that define your relationship. “You deserve everything,” he murmurs against your skin, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. “You deserve all the love I can give you.”

As you sit there together, the necklace resting against your skin, you realize something. You’ve always known that Carlos expresses his love through acts of service and thoughtful gifts, but tonight, the real gift isn’t the necklace. It’s the love that comes with it—the care, the attention, the depth of his feelings. It’s a love that doesn’t need to be grand, doesn’t need to be extravagant. It’s a love that’s woven into the everyday acts of kindness, the little touches, the ways he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You reach for his hand, your fingers intertwining with his, and for the first time that night, the words you’ve been searching for come to you, quiet and sure.

“I’m lucky to have you,” you whisper, your voice soft, but full of meaning.

Carlos smiles, his heart clearly full, and he pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “And I’m even luckier to have you."

[lvmoure]

ATLANTIS CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x pregnant!reader

Summary: In which he was too late

Warnings: angst, miscarriage

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of your apartment, a golden warmth that felt at odds with the cold knot of anxiety twisting in your stomach. You sat at the kitchen table, staring at the small white plastic stick in your hand as if it would suddenly change its mind. The words on it were undeniable, though—bold and clear. You were pregnant.

For a moment, everything felt still, like time had decided to hold its breath along with you. Your heart hammered in your chest, loud enough to echo in your ears, yet the rest of the world seemed so quiet. It felt as if you were trapped between two realities—one where you were the same person you had been just a few days ago and another where this tiny, growing life inside you would change everything.

You knew exactly what this meant. Your mind raced through the tangled maze of questions. What would Carlos think? What would he do? The two of you had never discussed children—not seriously, anyway. Sure, you’d talked about the future in vague terms, but when it came to family, he had always been clear. He wasn't ready, he wasn't sure he wanted them. He was focused on his career, his racing. His life was full of ambition and passion for a world that didn’t leave room for a baby, let alone a family.

But here you were, pregnant.

Your breath hitched as you glanced at the clock. Carlos would be home soon. You had no idea how you were going to tell him. How do you share news like this? The kind of news that could make or break everything you thought you knew about each other? You had hoped the moment would never come, or maybe that you'd be able to convince yourself it was a mistake, that maybe those two lines weren’t as clear as they seemed. But deep down, you knew they were real.

You tried to imagine his reaction. Would he be angry? Would he be scared? Would he think this was something you had planned all along, to trap him into something he didn’t want? The thought sent a chill through you. Carlos wasn't like that. He wasn't someone to dismiss your feelings, but you knew he wouldn’t take kindly to something that disrupted his carefully mapped out future.

His career, his freedom—it was all he had worked for, and now it felt like it was all on the line.

You stared at your reflection in the window, watching your own face morph into one of uncertainty. You didn’t know how to navigate this conversation, how to make him understand. You weren’t ready for this either, but this was reality now. And the hardest part was telling him.

When the door clicked open, Carlos stepped into the apartment, his familiar scent filling the room. You looked up, your stomach tightening as his eyes met yours.

"Hey," he said, setting his helmet and racing gear down in the hallway before walking over to you. His smile was soft, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, not like it usually did. There was something on your face that made him pause. Something was wrong.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice laced with concern, but you could hear the edge of hesitation in it. He knew you too well.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing with each passing second. "Carlos," you began, your voice unsteady, "there’s something I need to tell you."

His eyes softened as he sat across from you, his hand gently brushing yours. "You’re scaring me, what’s wrong?"

You looked at the pregnancy test again, then back at him, feeling your hands tremble.

"I’m pregnant."

His face fell silent for a long moment. The words hung in the air, their weight crushing you. You watched his eyes search your face as if trying to decipher if you were joking, but you couldn’t find any humor in this moment, no lightness. This wasn’t a joke.

His expression shifted, his lips tightening. His hands hovered over the table, unsure whether to reach out or pull away.

"You’re sure?" His voice was low, almost like he didn’t want to hear the answer.

You nodded, suddenly feeling smaller, as if the space between you two had doubled in size.

"I’m sure," you whispered, the weight of the admission pushing down on your chest. "Carlos, I—"

"Wait," he interrupted, his eyes now narrowing slightly, "are you telling me that you… that we…?" He trailed off, visibly processing what you had said. "But we never—"

"I know," you said quickly, your heart pounding in your ears. "I didn’t expect this either, but it’s real."

A heavy silence fell between you, and Carlos sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, the tension in his posture growing with every passing second.

"How are we supposed to—" He broke off, his voice suddenly sharp. "You know I’m not ready for this. You know that."

You flinched at the words, though they weren’t said cruelly. He was upset, overwhelmed even. But they cut deep.

"Do you think I’m ready for this?" you asked softly, your voice shaking. "Carlos, I didn’t plan this. But this is happening. And I need you to—"

"I can’t," he cut you off, his tone now more forceful. "I can’t just drop everything for this. I have my career, my goals. I can’t throw all of that away now."

Your heart shattered, the weight of his words crashing down on you. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. The fear, the hurt—it all bubbled up in an overwhelming rush. "Carlos, this isn’t about you throwing everything away. It’s about us figuring this out together. I’m not asking you to throw everything away. I’m asking for your support."

But he shook his head, his jaw tight. "I don’t know if I can give that to you."

The room seemed to close in on you. Your breath was shallow, each word he spoke pressing harder against your chest. "So, what? You’re just going to walk away? You’re going to ignore everything we’ve built because of one mistake?"

"It’s not a mistake," he snapped. "But it is something I wasn’t prepared for. And I don’t think I can be."

The pain in your chest turned into something darker, deeper. The reality of the situation was settling in, and it was suffocating you. You stood up abruptly, pushing your chair back. "I never wanted this to be a fight," you whispered. "I just wanted you to understand."

Carlos stood too, his face a mix of frustration and regret. "I need time to think, okay?" His words were softer now, almost a plea for space. But it wasn’t the space you wanted.

"Time?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. "How much time do you need to decide if we’re going to have a child? How much time do you need to decide if we’re going to have a future?"

Without another word, Carlos turned and walked away, leaving you in the suffocating silence of the apartment. The stillness that followed was deafening, and all you could do was sit there, your hand still clutching the test, the reality of it all crashing down around you.

Carlos’ hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than he realized as he drove away from the apartment. The tires of the car hummed on the asphalt, the road stretching endlessly before him, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess. His breath was ragged, his chest tight with confusion. The words you’d said, the look in your eyes, the way you held the pregnancy test as if it were both a lifeline and a curse—everything had blurred together into a painful knot in his stomach.

He had asked for time, needed it—desperately. Time to breathe, time to think. But the truth was, Carlos didn’t know what to think. His mind kept spiraling, trying to reason his way through something that felt so far beyond logic.

He loved you, that much was certain. But that love had never once been tied to thoughts of starting a family, to the idea of being a father. He wasn’t ready for that. He had spent his life working towards something that didn’t leave room for the responsibilities of parenthood.

But then, he saw the look on your face. He could still feel the hurt in your voice, the way you tried to explain that this wasn’t something you wanted either, but it was real. And now, he had to figure out how to navigate this.

The sun was beginning to set by the time Carlos parked his car in front of his father's house. The familiar warmth of the home did little to ease the tension that had built up inside him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt lost. He needed someone who could help him make sense of all this.

Carlos had always been close to his father, Carlos Sainz Sr. A man who had seen both triumphs and defeats in the world of motorsport. He knew what it was like to struggle, to fight for something you believed in, but he also knew what it meant to be a man of integrity, to face your responsibilities head-on. It was that kind of wisdom Carlos needed now.

He didn’t knock. His father’s house was always open to him, no matter what time of day it was. Carlos let himself in, finding his father in the kitchen, preparing a cup of coffee.

"Hey, Papa," Carlos said, his voice a bit hoarse as he leaned against the doorway.

Carlos Sainz Sr. looked up from his cup, his expression unreadable at first. But then, he saw the look in his son’s eyes. The kind of look that spoke volumes about a thousand unsaid things.

"Hijo, what’s wrong?" his father asked, setting the coffee down and gesturing for Carlos to sit.

Carlos hesitated for a moment before making his way to the table. He slumped into the chair across from his father, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I don’t know what to do, Papa," he admitted, his voice heavy with uncertainty. "I… I just found out that I’m going to be a father."

Carlos Sr. didn’t react immediately, but his eyes softened, and he took a deep breath, as though weighing his words carefully. "A father," he repeated, the weight of the word hanging in the air. "And you don’t know what to do?"

Carlos shook his head. "I never wanted this. I mean… I never planned for it. You know how I’ve always felt about kids, about having a family. I was never ready for that. I don’t know how to be a father, how to be the kind of man who can balance everything. I don’t want to let go of everything I’ve worked for. My career, my life—it all feels so out of control now."

His father sat back, folding his arms across his chest as he observed his son. The lines on Carlos Sr.’s face seemed deeper than usual, as if he had seen this moment coming from a distance.

"I understand. I understand more than you know," Carlos Sr. said quietly. "But sometimes, life has a way of throwing us challenges when we least expect it. You think you’ve got everything planned, and then something happens that changes everything. And that’s not always a bad thing. You’re scared because you feel like you’re losing control, but maybe what you’re really scared of is letting go of the idea that you can do it all on your own."

Carlos ran a hand through his hair again, frustration mixing with confusion. "I’m not ready to be a father, Papa. I’m just… not."

Carlos Sr. sighed deeply, his gaze steady and filled with a depth of understanding that only comes from years of experience. He leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but firm.

"I wasn’t ready either, Carlos," he said, and his words hit harder than Carlos expected. "When your mother told me she was pregnant with your older sister, I didn’t know how to feel. I was scared. I wasn’t sure if I could do it. I didn’t know if I could balance my career with being a father. But one thing I did know was that it wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about us—your mother and I, and the life we were going to build. And there was nothing more important than that."

Carlos Sr. paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing.

"You see, when you’re faced with something like this, you have two choices. You can run away from it, avoid it, pretend it’s not happening. Or you can face it. You can stand up and accept it for what it is, and figure out how to make it work. Because when you become a father, it’s not about you anymore. It’s about the life you’re bringing into this world, and the kind of person you want to be for them."

Carlos felt a lump form in his throat as he absorbed his father’s words. His chest tightened, the reality of what his father was saying hitting him like a wave. He had always been focused on his career, on his goals, on the life he had chosen. But now, it felt like that life was being torn apart by something so much bigger than himself.

"I don’t know if I can do this, Papa," Carlos admitted, his voice faltering.

Carlos Sr. stood up, walking over to the window and looking out at the garden. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, tinged with the wisdom of years of experience.

"You’re not alone, Carlos. You don’t have to figure this out on your own. You have people who love you, who want to support you. You have her—" He gestured toward the door, toward the life Carlos had just walked away from. "She’s in this with you. And you need to talk to her. You need to listen, because she’s not asking you to fix everything. She’s asking you to be there."

Carlos closed his eyes, the weight of his father’s words settling over him like a heavy blanket. He had been so caught up in his own fears, his own insecurities, that he hadn’t even considered what you must have been feeling. He hadn’t thought about the fact that you were in this together, that this wasn’t just his problem to solve. It was yours—yours to face, to share, to overcome.

"She’s scared, Carlos," his father continued. "She’s scared, and she needs you. Not the man who thinks he has all the answers, but the man who’s willing to show up, even when he doesn’t. She needs you to be there, to support her through this. That’s what it means to be a man. To stand by the people you love, even when it’s hard. Even when you don’t know how."

Carlos Sr. turned around to face him, his eyes meeting his son’s with a quiet intensity.

"You have a choice, Carlos. You can choose to run, to stay in the safety of the life you’ve built for yourself. Or you can choose to be a father, to take responsibility for the life you’re creating. The choice is yours. But don’t wait too long to make it. Because sometimes, the biggest mistake we can make is not realizing what we have until it’s too late."

Carlos sat in silence, the weight of his father’s words sinking deep into his soul. For the first time since he had walked out of your apartment, he felt a shift inside him—a slow, dawning realization that he could no longer keep running from this.

He had to go back. He had to face you.

Carlos’ heart raced as he drove back toward the apartment. His father’s words had cut deeper than he expected, like a scalpel carving into something raw, something fragile. The weight of his choices pressed heavily on his chest. The fear, the uncertainty—it was all still there, but his father’s wisdom had ignited something inside him, a spark of understanding he had been too afraid to acknowledge before.

He had left. Walked away when you needed him the most. And now he had to fix it. He had to go back and be the man he promised he would be—someone you could depend on, someone who would fight for you. But more than that, someone who would fight for the life growing inside of you.

Carlos gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white with the effort. He couldn’t shake the images of your face—the hurt in your eyes, the way you had begged him to understand. And he hadn’t. He had run.

When he pulled into the parking lot of your building, everything seemed so still. The world outside was unaware of the storm that had been brewing between the two of you, but it felt like the universe itself was holding its breath. He parked the car with a sense of finality, as if this moment would mark the beginning of something new—or the end of everything.

He got out of the car, walking toward the entrance with slow, deliberate steps. His mind raced with a thousand things to say, but none of them seemed to be enough. What could he possibly say to fix this? How could he explain the confusion, the fear, the selfishness that had led him to walk away from you when you needed him most?

The door to the apartment creaked open with a quiet sound that felt impossibly loud in the silence of the hallway. Carlos stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room, searching for you. But the apartment was eerily quiet. He called your name softly at first, unsure if you were even home, but the emptiness in the air told him something was wrong.

"Y/N?" His voice trembled slightly as he stepped further into the apartment. "Are you here?"

There was no answer.

He walked through the living room and into the bedroom, the door slightly ajar. As he pushed it open, the sight that met him took the breath from his lungs.

You were lying on the bed, unmoving. The room was dim, the curtains pulled tightly shut to block out the light. But what caught his attention wasn’t the stillness—it was the absence of the warmth that had once filled this space. The energy that had defined your relationship was gone, replaced with a cold, suffocating silence. You weren’t sleeping. You weren’t pretending everything was okay.

Your face was pale, your eyes closed, but your expression... it wasn’t peaceful. It was hollow, distant, as if you had already begun to retreat into a place where Carlos could no longer reach you.

His breath caught in his throat as he approached the bed, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Y/N?" he said again, his voice breaking this time. "Please, look at me."

You didn’t stir. His heart twisted in his chest, a feeling of dread settling deep in his bones. There was something in the air—a heaviness that he couldn’t shake. Slowly, cautiously, Carlos sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch your hand. It was cold, lifeless, a stark contrast to the warmth he had once known so well.

"Y/N, what’s going on?" he whispered, his voice full of pain and regret. He could feel the tears threatening to spill, but he held them back, not knowing if he even deserved the release.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you opened your eyes, though they seemed distant—no longer the eyes that had once been full of life and love. You looked at him, but it was as if you were seeing someone else entirely. Someone he didn’t recognize.

"Y/N, please," Carlos whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m so sorry. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. But I’m here now. I’m here. I’ll do whatever it takes."

You blinked, your lips parting to speak, but the words never came. Instead, there was only the faintest trace of something in your eyes. Something he couldn’t quite place. Was it anger? Was it sorrow? Or something deeper—something he had failed to see in his own selfishness?

"Y/N," Carlos said again, his voice cracking this time. "Please... talk to me."

But still, you didn’t respond.

It was then that Carlos noticed something else. There, on the bed, beside you, was the faint trace of something—a small stain, barely noticeable, but undeniable. A knot formed in his stomach, and his hands began to tremble as realization began to sink in. His breath hitched, and his throat felt tight as he turned back to you, finally understanding.

"No," he breathed, his voice shaking. "No, please."

Your eyes fluttered slightly, and for a moment, Carlos thought you were going to speak. But then your gaze drifted downward, to the small band of blood that had soaked through the sheets. It was then that he realized—the child, the life that had been growing inside you, was no longer there.

"You lost it," Carlos whispered, the words coming out barely louder than a breath. His heart shattered at the realization, and a wave of guilt washed over him so strong he could hardly breathe. He had walked away. He had been so focused on his own fears, his own uncertainties, that he hadn’t seen the weight of what was happening to you.

He reached for your hand again, but this time, you pulled away. You looked at him then, and it wasn’t anger or sorrow in your eyes—it was something far worse.

"You don’t get to come back now," you said, your voice quiet, but firm. "You left when I needed you the most, Carlos. You can’t just come back and pretend everything will be okay."

Carlos felt as though the air had been knocked from his lungs. He had no words to respond to that. How could he? How could he explain that the fear of fatherhood had been so overwhelming that he had allowed it to dictate his actions, even if it meant losing you—losing everything?

"You’re right," he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "I don’t get to just come back. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll be here for you—for us. I should’ve been here before, and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t."

But your eyes were still distant, and Carlos knew that the damage had been done. The distance between you had grown too wide, too deep to bridge in a single moment.

"I can’t do this anymore," you whispered. "I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out what you want. I can’t keep fighting for something that you’re not ready for. I thought I could do it on my own, but now... now I don’t even know who I am anymore."

Carlos felt his heart break in ways he didn’t even know were possible. The weight of what he had lost hit him with the force of a wrecking ball. You weren’t just angry with him. You were hurt. You had been betrayed, and the loss of the child—their future—was something he could never undo.

"I’ll stay with you," Carlos said quietly, his voice breaking. "I don’t care if we’re too late. We’ll figure it out. I’m here now. But please, don’t shut me out. Please."

You closed your eyes, tears sliding down your face. "It’s too late, Carlos."

And just like that, the silence between you two became unbearable, suffocating. It wasn’t just the loss of the child. It was the loss of everything that had once been. The future you had dreamed of together. The family. The love. All of it seemed to have vanished, leaving only a hollow ache where something beautiful had once been.

Carlos didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to fix this, how to make it right. All he knew was that he had failed. He had failed you, and in doing so, he had failed himself.

Carlos sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the empty space beside him. His body felt numb, as though every part of him had been drained of energy, of life, of everything he thought he knew about the world. He had come back, had finally understood what he needed to do, but it had been too late.

He could still hear your words echoing in his mind, the quiet but firm dismissal that had shattered the fragile hope he had clung to. "I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out what you want," you had said, your voice filled with something far more painful than anger. It had been sorrow, the kind of sorrow that ran deeper than any argument, deeper than any misunderstanding. It had been the kind of sorrow that came from realizing that love, no matter how much you wanted it to, couldn’t heal everything.

The child was gone. You had lost it. The pregnancy was no longer a promise, no longer the future you had thought you were building together. And now, there was only silence.

Carlos closed his eyes, trying to push away the overwhelming weight that pressed on his chest. He had failed you, failed the life that had barely begun, and failed himself. He had walked away when he should have been there, when he should have listened instead of running. He had been afraid, too afraid to face the responsibility that was already his—one that could have been a gift if he had only chosen to embrace it. But now, it was too late.

The apartment felt suffocating. The walls seemed to close in around him as he stood up from the bed, pacing aimlessly across the room. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more agonizing than the last. He couldn’t undo the past, couldn’t take back the moments he had spent trying to avoid the reality of what had been unfolding right in front of him. The child, the future, the love—it was all gone.

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm inside him. He had been so focused on himself, on his own fears, on his own insecurities, that he hadn’t seen what was right in front of him. He hadn’t realized that the most important thing in his life wasn’t his career or his accomplishments. It was you. And he had lost you.

The thought hit him like a physical blow, a punch to the gut that left him breathless. He had lost you, and in doing so, he had lost everything that had ever truly mattered.

A soft knock on the door broke through the haze of his thoughts, and for a moment, Carlos didn’t know if he should answer. He didn’t know if he was ready to face anyone, especially after everything that had happened. But then, he heard his father’s voice on the other side of the door.

"Carlos? It’s me."

Carlos felt his stomach tighten at the sound of his father’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed that his father had followed him back to the apartment. It was a small mercy, one that Carlos hadn’t even realized he needed, but now, standing at the door, he knew it was the only thing that could help him navigate the overwhelming pain and regret.

"Come in," Carlos said, his voice rough.

The door creaked open, and Carlos’ father stepped inside. His presence was calming, steady, like a rock amidst a storm. Carlos didn’t look up at first, too consumed by his own guilt, but he felt the weight of his father’s gaze upon him, steady and unwavering.

Carlos Sr. said nothing at first, just walked over to the small couch in the corner and sat down. He folded his hands in his lap and waited. It was a silence that spoke volumes, one that gave Carlos the space he needed to gather his thoughts, even as they remained tangled and chaotic.

Finally, Carlos spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I failed her, Papa."

Carlos Sr. didn’t respond immediately, but the quiet understanding in his eyes told Carlos that his father already knew the depth of his pain. After a long pause, Carlos Sr. finally spoke.

"Hijo, you didn’t fail her," he said quietly. "You failed yourself. And in doing so, you failed to see what was right in front of you."

Carlos swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing bigger with each word his father spoke. He had failed himself, that much was true. His own fear, his own inability to face the future had clouded his judgment, clouded everything. And now, all he had left was this empty apartment, the silence between them, and the memory of a life that was never meant to be.

"I didn’t want this," Carlos said, his voice raw with emotion. "I wasn’t ready. I thought I could keep going, keep doing what I was doing. I thought if I just kept pushing everything away, it would go away. But it didn’t. And now… now she’s gone."

Carlos Sr. leaned forward, his gaze steady, but his voice gentle. "She’s not gone, Carlos. She’s hurt. She’s disappointed, yes. But she’s not gone. Not unless you let her be."

Carlos let out a bitter laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. "I let her down, Papa. I walked away when she needed me most. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t—"

"Stop," Carlos Sr. interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. "You’re wrong. You couldn’t handle it because you didn’t let yourself. You were so caught up in your own fear that you couldn’t see what was really happening. And now, you have to fix that. You have to go to her, Carlos. You have to show her that you can be the man she needs you to be."

Carlos’s heart pounded in his chest. His father’s words were like a call to action, but he didn’t know if he could follow through. Could he really fix this? Could he undo the damage he had done? Was it even possible?

"I don’t know if she’ll forgive me," Carlos said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know if I deserve it."

"You don’t deserve forgiveness, Carlos," his father said quietly. "But you can earn it. And you start by showing up. You start by being there, by taking responsibility for what you did. It’s not about what you deserve—it’s about what you’re willing to do to make things right."

Carlos’s father stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder, the weight of it grounding him in that moment.

"You’re going to make mistakes, son," Carlos Sr. continued. "You’re going to mess up. But the measure of a man is not in his ability to avoid mistakes—it’s in how he handles them when they happen. It’s about owning up to them, learning from them, and doing everything in his power to make things better. That’s how you move forward. That’s how you become the man you’re meant to be."

Carlos felt tears well up in his eyes, a mix of relief and sorrow that he hadn’t expected. His father’s words, simple yet profound, broke through the fog of his confusion, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Carlos felt the smallest glimmer of hope.

"Go to her," Carlos Sr. said quietly, giving his son a final, meaningful look. "You’re not alone in this. But you can’t fix it by running away."

Carlos nodded, his throat tight. He wasn’t sure if he was ready. He wasn’t sure if you would even want to see him after everything that had happened. But he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t stay here, wallowing in his own regret. He had to go to you. He had to show you that he could be the man you needed, that he could be the father he had never thought he could be.

He stood up, his legs shaky beneath him, and walked toward the door. His father’s voice echoed in his mind, steady and unwavering. He wasn’t alone in this. He had to believe that.

As he stepped outside, the cool air hit him like a slap to the face, but it didn’t matter. He was moving forward now. He wasn’t going to let fear control him anymore.

He was going to fight for you.

And this time, he wasn’t going to run.

[lvmoure]

Petty, Pretty Arguments CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x long-termgirlfriend!reader

Summary: In which he lets an argument pass a day

Warnings: arguments

The evening air was thick, a sense of tension that had simmered all day was finally breaking loose in Carlos' living room. Usually, this was your safe haven—where late-night talks, laughter, and gentle touches spoke louder than words. But tonight, the warmth was gone, replaced by a biting chill.

Carlos sat across from you, arms folded, his gaze hard and distant. This wasn’t the Carlos who had held your hand through your darkest days or whispered promises under starlit skies. No, this was a man barricaded behind walls, with his eyes fixed firmly on a point behind you, as if he could barely stand the sight of you.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, voice low but laced with a steely edge. The words struck like a slap, unexpected and stinging.

“Doing what, Carlos?” you asked, forcing your voice to stay calm, though it wavered at the edges. “Caring? Checking in on you? Wanting to spend time with you?”

“You call it caring. I call it clingy,” he shot back, his words sharper than you’d ever heard them. You flinched, hurt pooling in your chest. He’d never spoken to you like this before.

“Clingy?” you repeated, barely able to recognize the word in your own mouth. “Since when is it clingy to want to be with the person you love?”

Carlos rubbed a hand over his face, a frustrated sigh escaping him. “It’s like... like you don’t trust me to be alone for five minutes without you,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Every time I turn around, you’re there. Every phone call, every minute I’m out of your sight—you act like it’s a crisis.”

“That’s not true!” you protested, feeling your voice tremble. You fought to keep control, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you unravel. “I trust you, Carlos. But you’ve been so... distant lately. You hardly talk to me anymore. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on with you.”

“Maybe I just need space,” he replied coldly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Did you ever think of that?”

Space. The word echoed in your mind like a warning bell, and a sinking feeling began to settle in your stomach. After thirteen years together, it was as if he were drawing a line between you that you couldn’t cross.

“I’m sorry,” you said, barely able to get the words out. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know you felt that way. But you could’ve told me. I would’ve given you space if you’d just asked.”

He shook his head, looking down at his hands as if the conversation were already over. “I did ask, but you didn’t listen. And I can’t keep doing this. I can’t have you hovering over me every second.”

The words hit like a punch, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Hovering? After everything you’d been through together, he thought of you as some burden, an annoyance he couldn’t shake off.

“So... what are you saying?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Carlos looked up, and for the first time, you saw something hard and unyielding in his eyes. “I’m saying... if you can’t stop, if you can’t give me what I need, maybe this won’t work anymore.”

You stared at him, feeling like the ground had fallen out from under you. Thirteen years. Thirteen years of love, of memories, of promises. And he was willing to throw it all away—because you cared too much?

“Is that really what you want?” you asked, your voice breaking. “To just... walk away?”

Carlos’ gaze softened, but only for a moment. “I don’t know,” he replied, and the uncertainty in his voice cut deeper than anything he’d said before. “But I know I can’t keep doing this.”

You felt tears sting at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Fine,” you said, your voice hollow. “If that’s how you feel... I’ll leave you alone.”

Without another word, you turned and walked out, each step feeling like a thousand knives driving into your heart. But you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Not tonight.

The next day was a blur of silence. You barely slept, the memory of Carlos’ words echoing in your mind until they felt like they’d left scars. By morning, a cold resolve had settled in you—you wouldn’t let him hurt you again. If he wanted space, you’d give him all the space he wanted.

The phone buzzed with messages from Carlos, but you ignored them. Your heart pounded each time you saw his name flash on the screen, but you refused to give in. You went about your day with mechanical precision, avoiding every thought of him, blocking out the ache that tugged at you with every passing hour.

By evening, you were back in your apartment, exhaustion seeping into your bones. You’d managed to avoid Carlos all day, but a part of you felt hollow, like you’d lost a piece of yourself somewhere along the way.

A knock at the door broke through the silence, and your heart leapt, knowing who it would be. You didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to face the coldness in his eyes again, but something inside you couldn’t resist.

When you opened the door, Carlos was standing there, looking more tired than you’d ever seen him. There was a desperation in his eyes, a vulnerability that took you off guard. He reached for you, but you stepped back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

“Are you here for more space?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended. Carlos flinched, and guilt pricked at you, but you forced yourself to stay firm.

“I’m here because... I made a mistake,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t mean what I said last night.”

“Oh, really?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Because it sounded pretty clear to me.”

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground. “I know. And I don’t blame you for being angry. But please... can we talk?”

You hesitated, the ache in your chest warring with the anger still simmering beneath the surface. Finally, you stepped aside, letting him in.

Carlos sat on the edge of the couch, looking more unsure of himself than you’d ever seen him. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable, until finally, he broke it.

“I was wrong,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I pushed you away because... I was scared. Scared of how much you mean to me, of how much I need you. And I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You stared at him, your mind reeling. This was a side of Carlos you’d never seen before, a side he’d kept hidden for all these years.

“So... what? You thought hurting me was the answer?” you asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

Carlos shook his head, looking up at you with regret in his eyes. “No. I didn’t think. I just... acted. And I hate myself for it. But please... give me a chance to make it right.”

Carlos didn’t leave that night. Instead, he stayed by your side, refusing to let you out of his sight. He was gentle, attentive, the opposite of the man who had stood cold and distant just twenty-four hours before. And slowly, you began to feel the walls around your heart start to crumble.

The next day, Carlos took you out, determined to make it up to you in every way he could. He led you to a secluded beach, a place he’d found on one of his training runs, where the world felt miles away. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the water, and Carlos pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I know I hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. But please... don’t give up on me. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity. But all you saw was a man who was willing to fight for you, who was ready to tear down his own walls if it meant keeping you by his side.

“I don’t want to lose you, Carlos,” you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. “But I need you to promise... promise that you’ll never treat me like that again. I can’t go through this again.”

Carlos nodded, his grip on you tightening as if he were afraid you’d slip away. “I promise,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll never hurt you like that again. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much you mean to me.”

And as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, you felt the last remnants of doubt fade away, replaced by the quiet certainty that no matter what lay ahead, he would be there—holding you, fighting for you, and loving you with everything he had.

[lvmoure]

When I Was Your Man CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Summary: In which Carlos realized that it was his lost.

Warnings: break-up, angst, cheater

The room was silent except for the quiet hum of the city lights through the window. Carlos sat across from you on the plush couch, his posture as stiff as his gaze. He looked at you, but it felt as if he was staring through you, his expression cold and unreadable. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the emptiness echo through the large, beautiful room that you both once shared.

"I just don’t understand, Carlos." Your voice was barely a whisper, yet it hung heavy in the air. "All I ever wanted was…something real. Just us. Simple things."

Carlos looked away, his jaw tight. "You knew how it would be from the beginning," he said, his voice flat, distant. “With my schedule, the travel, the life…you knew.”

You felt a pang in your chest. "I did know. I accepted all of it because I believed in us. But it feels like I don’t even know you anymore. I wanted you, Carlos. Not your career, not your lifestyle. Just…you."

A long, strained silence followed. You watched as he shifted in his seat, finally meeting your eyes with a flicker of something — perhaps regret, perhaps sadness — before it disappeared.

"What did you expect, then?" he asked quietly, almost defensively. “I told you from the start…I don’t do… this.” He gestured vaguely, as if “this” was something foreign, strange. "All this hand-holding and flowers, it’s not me."

You looked down at your hands, fingers nervously twisting together. "I expected that maybe…just maybe…you'd try. Maybe care about what I want. Just small things, like holding my hand, talking to me at the end of the day. It’s never been about grand gestures, Carlos."

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. “It’s not even about what you did with her. It’s about feeling like I was never enough. Like I was just…there.”

He stiffened, his eyes darkening, but he stayed silent. The absence of words weighed heavier than any argument. It was as if he was already gone, the connection that once held you two together severed.

“Carlos…are you even sorry?” you finally asked, your voice barely audible.

For a moment, he seemed taken aback. His eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but then he looked away, his gaze falling back to the ground. “I… I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

A bitter smile crept onto your face. “Sometimes silence says more than anything, doesn’t it?” You stood up, taking one last look at him. He didn’t move, didn’t reach for you. And that was when you knew — he wasn’t going to fight for this.

A few months had passed, and in many ways, you felt freer than ever. It was strange to think that such simplicity could bring such happiness. And then, there was Timothée.

Timothée was different. He was warm, gentle, attentive — all the things you had longed for, the things Carlos had seemed incapable of giving. Tonight, as you both walked out of a small café, the warmth of his hand in yours was almost surreal. You glanced down, a smile touching your lips. It was such a small gesture, but it meant the world.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking at you with a soft concern that had become second nature to him. He always asked how you were, always noticed the little shifts in your mood.

You nodded, smiling up at him. "I’m good. Really."

He grinned, squeezing your hand. “Good. Because I have something for you.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small bouquet of wildflowers. You laughed in surprise, a happy, genuine laugh. "Timothée…"

“They’re simple,” he said, smiling shyly. “But I thought you might like them.”

You took the flowers, your heart swelling with warmth. "They’re perfect."

He lifted your hand and kissed it softly. “Perfect for you, then.”

The flash of cameras brought you back to reality, and you blinked as the paparazzi swarmed around you. Timothée kept a firm grip on your hand, pulling you close and shielding you from the crowd. Unlike before, the attention didn’t feel invasive or stressful. With Timothée, it felt safe.

Later that night, as you lay next to him, you couldn’t help but think about how everything you had longed for with Carlos was finally here. Timothée’s arm was wrapped around you, his breathing soft and even. And for the first time in a long time, you felt seen, cherished.

Carlos sat in his dimly lit apartment, a glass of whiskey untouched on the table beside him. The photo on his phone screen showed you laughing, hand-in-hand with Timothée. You looked…happy. Really, truly happy.

The realization hit him harder than he expected. There was a pang of something sharp, bitter, clawing its way through him. Regret. He knew it now, more acutely than he ever had. He had taken you for granted, assumed you would always be there, no matter how cold or distant he’d been.

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched tight. Memories flooded back — moments when he could have held your hand, spoken to you, made you feel cherished. All the small things you’d wanted, the things he thought were meaningless, suddenly felt monumental.

“Carlos?” His teammate’s voice cut through the haze, but Carlos barely registered it.

“Sorry,” he muttered, brushing him off. “I need a minute.”

He turned back to the photo, something heavy settling in his chest. He thought of all the times he could have been there for you, the moments he missed out on because he was too focused on his career, too wrapped up in his own world to see you slipping away.

Another photo appeared in his feed — this one of Timothée with his arm around you, a small bouquet in your hands. He remembered you asking him, once, to bring you flowers. Just once. He’d laughed, brushed it off, called it “silly.” But now, seeing the way your face lit up for someone else, he understood.

As days passed, Carlos found himself haunted by the memories — your laughter, the way you’d always looked at him with such hope. It was the simple things that had mattered to you. All you had wanted was to hold hands, to feel connected, to know that he was there for you. And he’d let it all slip through his fingers.

He stared at his phone, re-reading your last text before the breakup. "I just wanted you, Carlos. Nothing more." He realized now, painfully, how simple that request had been, how much he had failed you by not seeing it.

Carlos closed his eyes, the regret pooling in his chest like a weight. You had been everything, and he hadn’t realized it until now — until it was too late. The cold, distant man he had been, the one who’d never truly understood your worth, had lost you to someone who cherished every part of you, someone who held your hand and brought you flowers.

He took a shaky breath, whispering into the empty room. "I’m sorry." But he knew it was too late. And he was left with nothing but the hollow echo of what could have been.

[lvmoure]

Before It's Too Late CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x wife!reader

Summary: When he realized it when it's too late.

Warnings: angst, death

The house was too large for just the two of them. Despite the warmth of the afternoon sun streaming through the massive glass windows, the atmosphere was cold, distant, like a room frozen in time. The walls were adorned with family portraits and lavish decorations, but none of them held any warmth, no laughter, no joy. It was just the echo of a marriage, one that had never truly been lived.

You sat at the long dinner table, your hands folded in your lap, eyes downcast as Carlos Sainz entered the room. His presence, though undeniably commanding, did nothing to comfort you. He didn’t notice the way your chest tightened with each breath you took, the way your skin felt too thin, as though it could tear apart under the weight of your own body. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts, too cold to ever notice the way your body betrayed you in silence.

You had never asked for this life, for this arranged marriage that was meant to appease your families and bind two powerful legacies. You had never asked for a life of quiet suffering. Yet, here you were.

Carlos took his seat at the head of the table, his sharp features obscured by a faint, unreadable mask. He greeted you with the same indifference he always did, a polite nod, a fleeting glance, before turning his attention to his phone. You knew better than to speak. He would only respond with monosyllables, his mind elsewhere, as it had been for months.

"How was your day?" you asked, your voice soft but carrying an unfamiliar tenderness, an attempt to break the ice, to forge a connection. But you already knew the answer before the words left your lips. Carlos would give you nothing.

"Fine," he muttered, eyes still glued to the screen, fingers swiping through some images of race cars or corporate emails, his focus never straying from his work, never reaching you.

Your heart sank. You had known from the very beginning that this wasn’t love, not the kind you’d dreamed about, anyway. But there was a quiet ache, a pang that came from the realization that your life had been reduced to this. Just a contract. Just a duty. And the pain in your chest wasn't just physical; it was emotional. It was the kind of pain you couldn't escape, even in your sleep.

Each day was harder to bear than the last. Each step felt heavier. The weight of the world was pressing down on you. But it wasn’t just your family legacy on your shoulders; it was your sickness. The leukemia was already making its presence known, like a shadow lurking just behind your ribs, making your bones ache, making your body weaker, slower. But you hid it from everyone. You hid it from Carlos because he didn’t care enough to notice. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care.

You excused yourself from dinner, your legs unsteady beneath you as you made your way to the bathroom. You could feel the familiar warmth creeping up your throat, a bitter metallic taste that signaled the start of another episode. The blood in your mouth tasted like iron. It was becoming a part of your life now—sickening, unyielding, relentless. But there was no one to see it. No one to understand.

Carlos would never know the torment you faced every day, not unless he cared to look beyond his own cold indifference. But he wouldn’t. You had accepted that. He wouldn’t care, because this marriage had been nothing more than an obligation for him, an arrangement for convenience. You were just a name, a title, nothing more.

But then, why did your heart ache when you saw him so distant? Why did you still long for something more, even when you knew deep down that it was never going to come?

It wasn’t until weeks later that Carlos started to notice the change. You were slipping away, little by little.

He wasn’t an idiot. He could see the signs—how your hands trembled slightly when you reached for a glass of water, how your face had become pale and drawn, like the color had been drained from your skin. It wasn’t just the tiredness that came with the burden of your marriage; it was something else, something deeper. Something he couldn’t name.

But still, he chose to ignore it. The coldness between you was a kind of armor, a shield against something he didn’t want to understand. He had his own life, his own race schedule, his own ambitions. And yet, as much as he tried to focus on them, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something more to you than the perfect, distant wife he had married.

One evening, as you struggled to make it from your room to the kitchen, Carlos couldn’t help but follow you. He had been waiting for you to ask for help, waiting for you to show any sign of weakness that would break through the carefully constructed walls of your relationship. But that day, you didn’t.

You hadn’t asked for help, but you were struggling, your movements slow, deliberate. It was so subtle, but it was enough for him to finally act.

He followed you out of the house, keeping his distance, and watched as you entered a small, private clinic just down the street. Something in his gut twisted. He didn’t know why he was so drawn to this, why he couldn’t just let it go and keep pretending like everything was fine. But he followed you anyway.

He waited outside for what felt like hours, pacing the sidewalk, his mind racing. Eventually, he saw you emerge, looking even more fragile than before. He wanted to approach you, to ask if you were alright, but something stopped him. He stayed hidden, watching you as you spoke to a doctor in hushed tones.

You didn’t know he was there.

"I don’t have much time left, do I?" you whispered, voice breaking. The doctor hesitated before answering, but it was clear what the prognosis was. You only had a month to live.

Carlos felt his heart stop. A cold, heavy weight settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He didn’t know what to think. You, his wife—the woman he had ignored, treated like a stranger, was dying. And he hadn’t even noticed.

What kind of man was he?

He stayed in the shadows, listening as the doctor explained the severity of your condition, and all the while, his chest tightened. He had always thought of you as a distant figure, a woman whose emotions were locked away behind a facade of grace. But now, he realized the depth of your suffering. He had ignored it, ignored you. And now time was running out.

The days dragged on, and you grew weaker with each passing moment. Carlos could no longer ignore it. He had been trying to maintain the cold distance between you both, but now he felt the weight of his own guilt. Every time he saw you struggle, every time you gasped for breath or clutched your chest, it was like a knife to his heart.

But he pretended. He pretended like nothing had changed, like he didn’t know. He treated you as if everything was fine, as if the knowledge of your illness hadn’t completely altered the way he saw the world.

It was the only way he could cope. The only way he could feel like he wasn’t drowning in his own regret.

The last day came without warning. You were lying in the hospital bed, your breath shallow, your body frail, and Carlos sat beside you, trying to look composed, trying to look unaffected. But on the inside, he was breaking.

He had tried to make amends, but it felt like too little, too late. He was here now, but you were slipping away from him, and there was nothing he could do.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Carlos asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

You smiled weakly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. "You wouldn’t have cared," you whispered. "You never did."

Carlos felt a lump form in his throat, and he struggled to speak through the pain. "I’m sorry... I should’ve noticed. I should’ve been there."

But you were already fading, your hand gripping his weakly. "You didn’t know... but I... I still hoped... I still... wanted..." The words were barely audible, and before he could say anything more, you were gone.

And in that moment, all the regret, all the guilt, all the missed chances came crashing down on him.

At your funeral, Carlos stood alone at your grave, his face buried in his hands, sobs wracking his body. He had been the one who had built the wall between you, and now he was the one left to mourn the wife he had never truly known.

It was too late. The cruel irony twisted the knife in his chest, and he couldn’t escape it.

You had been a mystery to him, but now, as he stood before your grave, he realized how much he had lost.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking, his words carried away by the wind. "I didn’t know how much I loved you until it was too late."

The world around him was silent, the only sound the rustling of the trees. But in that moment, Carlos finally understood. He had loved you in a way he never could have imagined. Too late. Too little.

And all that was left was an endless ache in his heart, the memory of a love that never had a chance to bloom.

[lvmoure]

Jump Then Fall part 3 CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x childhoodbff!reader

Summary: In which your love is really worth waiting for.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Part 1 part 2

You couldn't help but smile as you looked around the beautifully decorated hall. Fairy lights draped from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room, and fresh flowers filled the air with a delicate fragrance. Your friends Clara and Rafael were finally getting married, and the love between them was almost tangible. It was a picture-perfect day, and everyone was celebrating, caught up in the magic of the moment.

Beside you, Carlos adjusted his tie, looking a little uncomfortable in his suit. You chuckled as you nudged him playfully. "Stop fidgeting! You look great."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous spark. "I'm not used to wearing this many layers. I'd rather be in racing gear."

"Well, sorry to tell you, but I think you pull off a suit pretty well."

Carlos’s face softened, and he held your gaze a moment longer than usual. "You don’t look so bad yourself." His tone was light, but there was something else there—something that made your cheeks flush.

You laughed it off, but you couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through you. Being with Carlos was easy, natural, but recently you’d felt a change in the air between you. Moments like these, when he looked at you with that unreadable expression, made your heart flutter, making you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did.

As the ceremony began, you found yourself watching the bride and groom, taking in the way they looked at each other. There was something so pure, so raw in their expressions—a kind of love that didn’t need words. You stole a glance at Carlos, and your breath caught in your throat. He was watching the couple too, but as if sensing your gaze, he looked over at you and gave you a soft, almost shy smile.

Carlos couldn’t help but feel a pang of something he didn’t quite understand as he watched Clara and Rafael exchange vows. The way they looked at each other, like there was no one else in the world, made him wonder if he’d ever find someone who made him feel like that.

But then his gaze shifted to you, standing beside him, your eyes fixed on the couple. You looked radiant, with a soft smile playing on your lips, your eyes shining in the candlelight. He felt his heart skip a beat, and for a moment, he imagined what it might be like to stand beside you at an altar someday, exchanging vows of your own.

He quickly shook off the thought, feeling foolish. You were his best friend—had been for as long as he could remember. But recently, he couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced around you, the way he found himself wanting to be closer to you, to hold your hand, to tell you things he’d kept buried for so long.

As the ceremony came to an end, he leaned over and whispered, "They look happy, don’t they?"

You nodded, looking at him with that soft, warm smile that never failed to make his heart stutter. "They do. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Finding someone who feels like home."

Carlos swallowed, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice almost too quiet to hear. "It really is."

The reception was lively, with laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional cheers from the crowd. You and Carlos found yourselves at a table with some other friends, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze lingering on you throughout the evening. You tried to ignore it, focusing on the music and the joy of the celebration, but eventually, it became impossible to ignore.

During a slow song, Carlos leaned over, his voice a little uncertain. "Do you… do you want to dance?"

Surprised, you looked at him, but the softness in his expression made your heart ache in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. "I’d love to."

As he took your hand and led you to the dance floor, you felt a rush of warmth spread through you. His hand rested gently on your waist, and as you swayed to the soft melody, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, caught in a moment that felt timeless.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, content to let the music fill the silence. But then Carlos looked down at you, his eyes searching, as if trying to tell you something without words.

"Thank you for being here with me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt your heart pound as you looked up at him, wondering if he could hear it. "Where else would I be?"

The dance ended too soon, and you returned to your table, but the feeling lingered. You knew something had shifted, something deep and unspoken. And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but wonder if Carlos felt it too.

A few days after the wedding, Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d missed his chance. He’d danced with you, held you close, and for a brief, beautiful moment, he’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. But he hadn’t said what he wanted to say—what he needed to say. The fear of losing you had kept him silent, but he couldn’t keep these feelings locked away anymore. He had to tell you the truth.

One evening, he called you, asking if you could meet him by the lake where the two of you had spent so many summers. It was a place filled with memories, where you’d laughed, argued, shared secrets. And now, it would be the place where he’d finally tell you how he felt.

When you arrived, you looked curious but a little nervous, as if sensing the weight of what was about to happen.

“Carlos, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft.

He took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for yours. "There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s… it’s been on my mind for a long time."

Your brows furrowed, and he could see the concern in your eyes. But he pressed on, knowing that if he didn’t say it now, he might never have the courage again.

"I… I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember," he confessed, his voice trembling. "I didn’t want to say anything because I was afraid it would ruin what we have. But I can’t keep it to myself anymore. You’re… you’re everything to me."

He paused, looking at you, trying to read your expression. The silence stretched between you, each second feeling like an eternity.

His words hit you like a wave, leaving you speechless, your heart racing so fast you thought he could hear it. You’d dreamed of this moment for so long, but now that it was happening, you didn’t know what to say.

“Carlos,” you whispered, trying to steady your voice, “I… I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

He gave a small, shaky laugh. “I was so afraid, so scared that I’d lose you. But I couldn’t keep pretending that you were just my friend.”

You felt tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by the weight of his confession. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to tell you… but I thought it would be too much, that you’d never see me like that.”

Carlos took a step closer, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. "I’ve only ever seen you like that," he murmured, his gaze soft and full of a love so deep it took your breath away.

In that moment, everything fell into place. All the years, the stolen glances, the unspoken words—it all led to this. Without another word, you leaned into him, letting the moment finally bring you together in a way you’d both been waiting for.

---

The day of your wedding dawned bright and beautiful, sunlight filtering through the windows as Carlos stood by the altar, his heart pounding with excitement and nerves. He’d never imagined that this day would come, that he’d be here, waiting to marry the woman he’d loved all his life.

When you walked down the aisle, his breath caught. You looked radiant, every bit the picture of beauty and grace, and he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that you were his, that you’d chosen him.

As you reached him, he took your hands, feeling a surge of emotion as he looked into your eyes. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the one he’d dreamed of but never truly believed would happen.

When it was time for the vows, he took a deep breath, his voice steady as he began.

“From the moment I met you, you were my best friend,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve seen me at my best and my worst, and you never gave up on me. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you in my life, but I promise I’ll spend every day making sure you know how much I love you. You are my heart, my home, my forever.”

He squeezed your hands, his eyes never leaving yours, his heart laid bare in his words.

As you listened to his vows, you felt tears gathering, each word resonating deeply within you. When it was your turn, you took a steadying breath, looking up at him, knowing that this was your chance to tell

him everything you’d kept in your heart.

“Carlos, you have been my rock, my joy, my everything. For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved you, even when I was too scared to admit it to myself. You are my best friend, my love, and my greatest adventure. I promise to stand by you, to support you, and to love you more every day. You are my past, my present, and my future.”

As you finished, you saw the tears in his eyes, and you felt a surge of happiness like nothing you’d ever felt before. When the officiant finally pronounced you husband and wife, Carlos pulled you close, his kiss soft and filled with all the love and promises you’d shared.

Surrounded by family and friends, you knew that this was only the beginning of a beautiful life together—a life filled with love, laughter, and the kind of happiness you’d both dreamed of.

Because sometimes, love is worth waiting for.

[lvmoure]

Jump Then Fall CS55 Part 2

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x childhoodbff!reader

Summary: In which he realized that it has always been you.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Part 1 Part 3

Carlos Sainz was just 7 when he met you for the first time, his new next-door neighbor. He remembered the way you’d stood there, small and uncertain, a hand clutching the hem of your dress as your parents introduced you. He’d given you a big, toothy grin, thinking you looked a little lost. From that day on, the two of you were inseparable, spending every moment you could together. Whether it was riding bikes, playing soccer in the park, or inventing silly games only the two of you understood, Carlos knew you’d always be by his side.

One golden afternoon, the two of you were at the playground, taking turns pushing each other on the swings. Carlos could see the joy on your face as you laughed, your head tilted back, eyes shining in the sunlight. Something about that moment made him pause, a weird, fluttery feeling stirring in his chest. He didn’t understand it, but he liked it.

“Bet I can swing higher than you!” he shouted, hopping onto the swing next to yours.

You laughed, challenging him back. “No way, Carlos! I’m going to win!”

The two of you raced to see who could go higher, each laughing louder and louder as you tried to outdo each other. Carlos didn’t care if he won or lost; he was just happy to see you smile like that.

But then, in the midst of all the fun, he noticed you staring at him with this faraway look. He waved a hand in front of your face, grinning. “Hey, are you even listening to me?”

Your cheeks turned pink as you stammered something, and he couldn’t help but laugh, wondering why you seemed so flustered. You weren’t usually like this; you were usually the one to tease him! But he liked this side of you, too, even if he didn’t understand why it made him feel… strange.

“Come on,” he said, reaching out his hand, “Let’s go get ice cream. Loser has to buy!” He grinned, watching you roll your eyes and accept his challenge. As you both ran off to the ice cream shop, Carlos felt that same warm feeling again, lingering, making him realize how much he loved moments like this. He didn’t know it yet, but these simple memories would be some of his most cherished, ones he’d look back on years from now, as the start of something he couldn’t quite name.

By the time high school rolled around, Carlos had grown accustomed to that fluttery feeling in his chest whenever he was around you. He told himself it was just because you were his best friend; after all, you’d been there with him through everything—good and bad. But there was something else, a longing he didn’t fully understand, a wish he kept tucked away in the back of his mind. He was afraid that if he acknowledged it, it would change everything between you.

He didn’t want to lose you. So he stayed quiet, kept his feelings hidden, and tried to be content with just being your friend. It wasn’t always easy, especially when he caught himself watching you from across the classroom or noticing the way you laughed at his jokes. Sometimes, he wondered if you might feel the same, but he was too scared to ask.

One afternoon, the two of you were walking home from school together, chatting about nothing in particular. Carlos noticed the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and his heart did that strange flutter again.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asked suddenly, not even sure why he was asking.

You looked at him, surprised. “Sometimes. Why?”

Carlos shrugged, kicking a pebble on the sidewalk. “I don’t know… I guess I wonder if things will change. Like, if we’ll still be friends.”

“Of course we will!” you said, sounding so sure it made his heart ache. “We’ve been friends forever, right?”

He forced a smile, trying to shake off the feelings bubbling up inside him. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re like… inseparable.”

For the rest of the walk, he stayed quiet, lost in his thoughts. He knew he wanted to be more than just friends, but he couldn’t risk losing you. So he buried his feelings, hoping that somehow, being close to you would be enough.

Carlos didn’t think it would hurt this much, but the day he introduced his girlfriend to you, he felt an odd pang in his chest. He’d met Isabela a few months ago, and she was everything he thought he wanted—confident, funny, beautiful. But the moment he saw the look on your face as he introduced her, something inside him twisted painfully.

“This is Isabella,” he said, trying to ignore the way his voice sounded too bright, too forced. “She’s… well, she’s amazing, isn’t she?”

You smiled, but he could see it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, she seems great,” you replied, but something about your tone didn’t match the words. For a split second, he wondered if you felt the same way he did. But he brushed the thought away; it was probably just wishful thinking.

The weeks that followed were strange. He saw less of you, but every time he was with Isabella, he found himself thinking about you—wondering what you were doing, if you missed him, or if you even cared that things felt different. There were nights he stayed up, wondering if he’d made a mistake, if he was hurting you. But he was too scared to ask.

One day, as the two of you were walking home from school, Carlos finally worked up the courage to say something.

“Hey… are you okay?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.

You smiled, but there was a sadness in your eyes he couldn’t ignore. “Of course, I’m just tired.”

He didn’t believe you, but he didn’t push. Maybe it was better this way, he told himself. Maybe it was better if he never knew how you really felt.

The breakup with Isabela hit him harder than he’d expected. One evening, he showed up at your door, feeling lost and alone. He didn’t even need to explain; the moment you saw his face, you pulled him into a hug, holding him tight.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice gentle and soothing. “I’m here for you, Carlos. I’ll always be here.”

Carlos clung to you, feeling a mix of relief and regret. He’d been so focused on someone who didn’t truly understand him, while the one person who knew him better than anyone else had been right in front of him all along.

As you comforted him, he felt something shift between you. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he was grateful for it. In that moment, he realized how lucky he was to have you by his side, even if he wasn’t ready to admit the feelings bubbling up in his heart.

After the breakup, Carlos found himself looking at you differently. He started noticing the way you laughed at his jokes, the way you knew exactly how to cheer him up, and the way you always seemed to understand him in a way no one else could. A thought began to creep into his mind, one he couldn’t shake—maybe, all this time, you’d been the one he was looking for.

But he was still afraid. Afraid of ruining what the two of you had, afraid of losing the friendship that meant everything to him. So he decided to keep his feelings hidden, admiring you from afar and hoping that one day, he’d have the courage to tell you.

Because deep down, he knew that love, the kind he felt for you, was worth waiting for.

[lvmoure]

Jump Then Fall CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x childhoodbff!reader

Summary: In which you loved him the moment you turned 7 years old. In which she fell first but he fell harder.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Part 2 Part 3

You were only seven when it hit you for the first time: a fluttery feeling, soft and strange, but warm like a summer breeze. The source of this unexpected feeling was none other than Carlos Sainz, your best friend since you could remember. He was the boy who sat next to you in class, the one who chased you around the playground, and the one who always let you have the last cookie at lunch.

It was a sunny afternoon, the kind where the sunlight spilled across the playground in warm, lazy beams, illuminating everything in a golden hue. You and Carlos were at your favorite spot by the swings, taking turns seeing who could go the highest. Carlos grinned at you, his cheeks flushed from the thrill of the game, his laughter bright and unrestrained. You felt your heart race, pounding in a way that seemed strange and exciting all at once.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" Carlos called out, waving his hand in front of your face. He was laughing, his eyes squinting with joy as the wind tossed his dark hair in every direction.

You snapped out of your thoughts, cheeks heating up as you stammered, "Of course I am! You were saying… uh, something about soccer?"

Carlos groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I was talking about how we should form a team, and I was going to ask you to be my teammate. But now I'm not so sure, since you're off in dreamland!"

You felt your face warm even more, but you managed to laugh. "Fine, I'll be your teammate, but only if you promise to pass the ball sometimes!"

He laughed, pretending to consider your terms. "Deal," he said, reaching out his pinky. You linked yours with his, feeling a spark—a small, inexplicable jolt that made you freeze for just a second. But Carlos didn't seem to notice; he was already excitedly planning your imaginary soccer team's strategy.

As the two of you chattered away, you realized how much you loved moments like this. Little did you know, these small, simple moments would be the foundation of a love that would grow with you, one that would shape your every feeling for years to come.

Years passed, and the innocent feelings you had as a child grew complicated, layered with insecurities and fear of change. By the time you reached high school, Carlos was no longer just "that boy next to you." He had grown into someone everyone noticed, with his easy charm, his passion for sports, and the same unfiltered laugh that always made you feel like the only person in the room. It wasn't just the small things that made you realize you were in love with him; it was everything about him, the way he treated people, the way he never held back.

You watched him from across the cafeteria, trying not to be obvious. Carlos was surrounded by his friends, laughing and animated, and you could see why everyone liked him so much. But you kept your feelings locked away, never daring to say a word. You were terrified of what would happen if he knew—terrified of losing him, of the awkwardness that might come with a confession.

"Are you staring at Carlos again?" your friend teased, nudging you playfully.

You jolted, quickly looking down at your food, cheeks flaming. "No, I was… I was just lost in thought."

"Yeah, sure," she said with a smirk. "You've got it bad, and you know it."

You groaned, hiding your face. "I can’t tell him. It’d ruin everything."

"He’d probably be flattered," she said gently. "But I get it. Some things are scarier when it comes to best friends."

A part of you wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, he might feel the same way. But you couldn't risk it. So you kept quiet, holding your feelings close and letting them simmer in silence. There were moments when he looked at you, really looked, and you'd find yourself wondering if he could see the way you felt. But every time, he'd just flash you a grin or make a joke, and you’d brush it off, convincing yourself that he couldn’t possibly feel the same.

You told yourself that being close to him as his friend was enough, even if it hurt sometimes to keep the truth hidden.

The day he introduced his girlfriend to you, it felt like the world was crashing down around you. You plastered on a smile, trying to ignore the way your heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces.

"Hey, this is Isabela," Carlos said with a bright smile, his arm slung casually around her shoulders. "Isn't she amazing?"

You forced a laugh, pushing down the wave of jealousy and sadness that threatened to spill out. "Yeah, she seems great," you managed, feeling like every word you spoke was a lie.

Isabela was everything you weren’t—confident, beautiful, and effortlessly charming. She seemed to know Carlos in ways that you didn’t, ways that you wished you could. You watched them together, the way he looked at her, and it tore you apart. But you stayed by his side, putting on a brave face and pretending that you were fine.

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked one day, noticing the sadness in your eyes.

You forced a smile. "Of course, I’m just tired."

He gave you a long, searching look, as if he could see through your mask. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

But you couldn’t tell him this, not now. So you just nodded, hoping he’d never find out how deeply you were hurting.

Years passed, and one day, Carlos showed up at your door, his face pale and eyes rimmed red. Before he could even speak, you wrapped him in a hug, sensing the heartbreak he was carrying. Isabella had broken up with him, and he was devastated.

"I thought we had something real," he said, his voice breaking. "But she said she couldn’t handle it."

You held him close, soothing him with gentle words, even as your heart ached at the sight of his pain. Part of you felt relief—relief that he was no longer with her, that there might be a chance for you. But mostly, you just wanted to be there for him, to be the shoulder he could lean on.

"I’m here for you," you whispered, your hand running comfortingly over his back. "You’re going to get through this, Carlos. I promise."

He looked at you then, and for a moment, something seemed to shift in his gaze. But he was hurting too much to notice it, and you were too afraid to hope.

Months after the breakup, Carlos found himself looking at you in a way he hadn’t before. It was small things—like the way you laughed at his jokes, the way you always knew when he needed comfort, or the way you were just there, unwavering in your support. He began to realize that maybe, all this time, the person he was looking for had been right beside him.

He wanted to tell you. Wanted to confess that he felt something he couldn’t quite explain, something warm and soft that made his heart beat a little faster. But he held back, afraid that maybe he’d missed his chance, that his feelings would only complicate things.

For now, he decided, he’d admire you from afar, letting his feelings settle and hoping that one day, he’d find the courage to tell you.

Because love, he realized, was worth waiting for.

[lvmoure]

CARLOS SAINZ MASTERLIST🏎️

The Man Who Can't Be Moved

But daddy, I love him

The only exception

Jump Then Fall: part 1 part 2 part 3

Before It's Too Late

When I Was Your Man

Petty, Pretty Arguments

His Five Love Language

Papa Sainz 🌶️

Beautiful boy

Atlantis

Baby Fever

[lvmoure]

The Man Who Can't Be Moved CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Summary: In which Carlos still haven't moved on.

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, break up

Carlos regretted leaving you.

Mallorca 2019

The day was warm, a typical Mallorcan sun casting its golden rays over the sparkling blue sea, the sand beneath your feet hot but soothing. You squinted as the salty breeze tousled your hair, making you laugh and brush it away, your cheeks already tinged with sunburn. You weren't sure what had compelled you to agree to Lando's impromptu invitation to spend a weekend in Spain with his friend. Maybe it was the pull of adventure or just the excuse to escape for a few days.

You noticed Lando first, laughing as he called your name from the water, his voice breaking through the gentle murmur of the waves. But then you saw him. Carlos Sainz was a striking figure even in the simplicity of swim trunks, his tousled brown hair catching the sun's light, and his eyes—dark, intense—locking onto you with an easy, curious smile.

"Carlos, this is my friend," Lando introduced, his grin a bit too wide, like he knew something you didn’t.

Carlos extended his hand, the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Encantado de conocerte,” he said smoothly, his voice rich and warm, as if it had soaked up the Spanish sun along with him.

That day stretched into laughter-filled hours. You went swimming together, raced on the sand (he let you win once, although you both knew he could have easily outrun you), and had an effortless conversation as the sky shifted from blue to warm amber. Carlos seemed captivated by your stories, genuinely listening, occasionally pausing to repeat what you said in Spanish, as if savoring every word.

Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky blushed with hues of pink and purple, Carlos invited you to a quiet bar nearby. There, the two of you laughed over shared tapas, his hand grazing yours accidentally-on-purpose, both of you pausing as if holding on to that fleeting touch.

“I didn’t expect to meet someone like you,” he said, his voice softer now, vulnerable in a way that felt rare.

You looked at him, half-smiling, unsure of where this day would lead but already lost in the warmth of his gaze.

Months later

The months after that first meeting were a blur of stolen moments, weekend getaways, and countless whispered confessions. But somehow, you sensed a shift—a silent tremor that grew louder with each passing day. And when Carlos finally asked to meet you at a secluded café, you felt that cold weight settling in your chest.

He was fidgeting with his coffee cup, eyes downcast, his usual confidence absent. “I don’t know how to say this,” he started, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

“Just say it, Carlos,” you whispered, though every fiber of you screamed against hearing the words that would come next.

His eyes met yours, filled with a painful honesty. “I… I don’t feel the same way anymore.” His voice cracked, betraying the weight of those words.

The silence was unbearable, heavy with the unspoken memories of every laugh, every kiss, every whispered secret. You struggled to keep your voice steady, but the words tumbled out, raw and desperate. “What happened, Carlos? We were… we were happy. You said you loved me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you knew too well. “I thought I did. I… I don’t know when it changed, but it did.”

You fought back tears, but the hurt was a storm raging inside. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just because you’re… unsure?”

“Por favor, entiéndeme…” he whispered, voice soft but firm. “I can’t stay in something I don’t feel in my heart. It’s not fair to you, either.”

Your anger flared, bitter and sharp. “Fair? Since when did love become about being fair, Carlos? You don’t just stop feeling… not like this.”

He reached for your hand, and you pulled back, his touch too painful to bear. “I wanted this to be forever, you know? I thought we were real.”

Carlos’s face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I did, too. But sometimes…” he paused, searching for words, “sometimes, things change, even if we don’t want them to.”

“Then maybe you should have fought harder,” you whispered, voice broken.

And with that, you left, the echo of his “Lo siento,” fading as you walked away, knowing you’d just left behind a part of yourself that would never fully heal.

Five years later

Five years later, Carlos found himself standing at the edge of that same beach where you’d first met. The memories hit him like waves crashing against rocks, each one sharper than the last. The laughter, the warmth in your eyes, the effortless joy you’d shared—each memory cut deeper, filled with a regret that had settled in his chest like a permanent ache.

The beach looked the same. The sun still blazed down, the waves still rolled in with their familiar rhythm, but something felt off, missing. You weren’t there. And in the empty space where you’d once been, all he could feel was the gnawing weight of regret.

Walking to the bar where you’d shared tapas that night, he slid into the same booth, ordering the same dishes out of some foolish hope that it might summon your memory more fully. “Un vino tinto, por favor,” he muttered absently to the bartender, glancing at the empty seat across from him.

His phone buzzed, and he opened a text from Lando, the only person who knew he was here. “Is this really a good idea, mate?” it read.

Carlos sighed, fingers hovering over the keys as he typed, “I just wanted to remember. I can’t help it.”

Lando’s reply was quick. “A piece of advice, mate, sometimes, memories are best left in the past.”

Carlos leaned back, closing his eyes. If only it were that simple. The truth was, he had never really let go of you. He had moved on, or so he’d told himself, but in the quiet moments, it was your face he still saw, your laugh he still heard, your touch he still craved. He had thought he’d be better off, but now, all these years later, all he could feel was the emptiness that had filled the space you left behind.

Just as Carlos was about to leave, he saw you. You walked into the bar, your hair a little different, your style more mature, but still unmistakably you. And then he saw it—the ring on your finger, glinting faintly in the low light. His heart sank, a bitter taste creeping into his mouth, but he managed a small smile as you spotted him and approached, surprise in your eyes.

“Carlos,” you said, voice soft, almost as if saying his name was too heavy.

“Hola,” he replied, his voice steady though his heart was far from calm.

The conversation started polite, cautious, as if you both were afraid of stepping on the remains of what once was. You shared snippets of your lives, your accomplishments, your families, and he listened, holding onto each word, knowing this was all he’d ever have again.

And then, after a beat, you hesitated, glancing down at your ring. “I’m getting married in a few months,” you said softly.

Carlos forced a smile. "Wow, congratulations,” he said, his voice betraying nothing but the bitterness he felt inside.

He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy, the gnawing regret, but it was impossible. Still, he wasn’t the man to stand in your way, not now, not after he had been the one to walk away all those years ago.

“Maybe we could still be friends,” you offered, your eyes kind, yet distant.

Carlos managed a nod, swallowing hard. “Yes. Friends,” he echoed, the word feeling foreign and wrong on his tongue.

And as you walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder what could have been if he’d only known then what he did now. But for now, this was all he’d have left—the memory of what you once had, fading into the salty breeze as you disappeared from his sight.

[lvmoure]

Beautiful boy CS55

Pairings: dad!carlos sainz x mom!reader

Summary: In which Miguelito lose his first race in his karting and Carlos taught him a valuable lesson.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the track as you settled into your seat, watching the vibrant energy of the racing circuit. The air buzzed with the scent of gasoline and the distant sounds of engines revving. Your husband, Carlos Sainz, moved gracefully on the asphalt, his presence commanding yet reassuring as he prepared to train your seven-year-old son, Miguelito.

“Alright, Miguelito,” Carlos said, his voice steady, a perfect blend of authority and encouragement. He knelt beside Miguelito, who was gripping the steering wheel of his small go-kart, eyes wide with excitement and determination. “Today, we’re going to practice your turns and braking. Are you ready, mi campeón?”

Miguelito nodded vigorously, his dark hair tousled by the breeze. “¡Sí, Papa! I’m ready! Can I go really fast?”

Carlos chuckled, ruffling Miguelito’s hair. “You can go fast, but remember, control is key. You don’t want to end up in the barriers, right?”

The child’s face crumpled at the mention of the barriers, a recent reminder of a minor mishap during practice. “I won’t crash again, I promise!” His voice was earnest, determination radiating from him as he shifted in the kart, his small hands gripping the wheel tightly.

You leaned forward, a smile spreading across your face as you observed them. Carlos’s eyes sparkled with pride as he took a step back, allowing Miguelito to take the lead. “Go ahead, Miguelito. Show me what you’ve got!”

With a gentle push, Miguelito pressed the accelerator, and the kart surged forward. He let out a laugh, a sound so pure it warmed your heart. As he made his first turn, you could see Carlos’s gaze fixated on his son, his body tense with both worry and pride.

“Turn! Turn!” Carlos shouted, his hands gesturing as if he could guide the kart through the air. “That’s it, just like we practiced!”

Miguelito followed his father’s instructions, but the kart swerved a little too wide, grazing the edge of the track. “I got it, I got it!” he yelled, laughter mixed with a hint of panic.

“Easy there, easy! Remember to look ahead, Miguelito!” Carlos called, his voice a mixture of coaching and caution. You felt a surge of admiration for your husband—his patience, his unwavering support. He was not just a champion on the track; he was a father committed to teaching his son the ropes of racing.

As the afternoon progressed, Miguelito continued to gain confidence. You could see him growing bolder with every lap, each time responding to Carlos’s coaching with increased enthusiasm. “You’re doing great, Miguelito!” you cheered, your voice ringing out over the sound of the engines. “Keep it steady!”

With every passing minute, the sun dipped lower, and the golden hour bathed the track in a warm light. Carlos stood by, timing Miguelito’s laps, his brow furrowed in concentration. You could see the pride swelling in his chest as Miguelito completed another turn with a smile plastered across his face.

“¡Eso es, hijo! Perfecto!” Carlos shouted, clapping his hands together as Miguelito sped by. “Now, let’s practice stopping. Remember to squeeze the brake gently!”

Miguelito nodded, taking a deep breath as he approached the designated stopping point. With a mixture of excitement and nervousness, he pressed the brake. The kart came to a halt with a slight skid, but he managed to keep it under control.

You clapped your hands together, standing up as Miguelito beamed with accomplishment. “See? You did it!”

“¡Mamá! Did you see that? I stopped without crashing!” Miguelito exclaimed, his face glowing with pride.

Carlos approached, wrapping an arm around Miguelito’s shoulder. “I knew you could do it. Just remember, every great driver started just like you—practicing, learning, and sometimes making mistakes. It’s all part of the journey.”

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the track as the three of you gathered together for a moment. Carlos looked down at Miguelito, his eyes sparkling with encouragement. “Tomorrow is your first race, Miguelito. Remember what we practiced, and have fun.”

“Promise, Papa! I’m going to make you proud!” Miguelito replied, determination shining in his eyes.

You exchanged a glance with Carlos, both of you sharing a silent understanding of the weight of that promise. Racing was a passion for your family, a connection woven into your lives, and you hoped Miguelito would find joy in it just as you and Carlos did.

As the sun set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you felt a sense of peace enveloping you. The laughter of your son mingled with the memories of your own childhood, echoing the hopes and dreams that raced through your heart.

Race day dawned bright and clear, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and anticipation. You arrived at the circuit early, the sun shining overhead, illuminating the colorful tents and the throngs of spectators filling the stands. The roar of engines and the chatter of teams filled the air, a symphony of adrenaline and competition.

“Mamá! Look!” Miguelito shouted, tugging at your hand as he pointed toward the pit lane where the professional cars were lined up, their gleaming bodies reflecting the morning sun.

“Wow, they look amazing!” you replied, bending down to his level. His eyes were wide, and you could feel his excitement radiating off him. “Are you ready for your big moment?”

He nodded vigorously, his face serious. “I’m ready! I practiced a lot, remember?”

You brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and smiled. “I know you did, and I’m so proud of you. Just remember to have fun out there.”

As the hours ticked by, the moment approached. Carlos paced around, occasionally bending down to speak with Miguelito, who was in his racing gear, looking every bit the little driver. You could see the nervous energy bubbling in him.

“Hey, Miguelito,” Carlos said, crouching down to his son’s level. “Are you excited?”

“¡Sí, Papa! But I’m a little nervous too,” Miguelito confessed, fidgeting with the hem of his racing suit.

“That’s okay. It’s normal to feel that way. Just remember, we’re here to have fun. And no matter what happens, we love you,” Carlos reassured him, a warm smile lighting up his face.

The time for the race approached, and the loudspeaker announced the drivers as they made their way to their karts. Your heart raced along with Miguelito’s, a mix of pride and apprehension swelling within you.

The whistle blew, and Miguelito was off. You watched with bated breath as he navigated the track, the kart zipping along, his small figure focused and determined. The first few laps went smoothly, and the crowd erupted into cheers as he managed to gain a spot in the middle of the pack.

“Look at him go!” you shouted to Carlos, who nodded, his gaze unwavering.

But then, as you held your breath, disaster struck. In a moment of exuberance, Miguelito misjudged a turn and collided with the barrier. You gasped, your heart dropping as the kart crumpled against the safety wall.

“¡Miguelito!” you shouted, rushing toward the edge of the track. Carlos was already moving, his expression a mix of concern and determination.

As the marshals rushed to help him, you fought the urge to panic, praying for your son’s safety. Miguelito clambered out of the kart, his face scrunched up in anger rather than pain. “I can’t believe I crashed! This was my first race!” he yelled, his small fists clenched in frustration.

You reached him just as Carlos did, both of you kneeling beside your son. “Miguelito, are you okay?” you asked, scanning his body for any signs of injury.

“I’m fine, but I was doing so well!” he cried, tears of frustration pooling in his eyes. “I wanted to win! I practiced so hard!”

Carlos placed a hand on Miguelito’s shoulder, his voice steady and calm. “I know, hijo. And you did great. But remember, racing is about learning. Every driver has faced setbacks. It’s part of the game.”

Miguelito shook his head, a torrent of emotions coursing through him. “But I didn’t want to crash! I wanted to show everyone I could do it!”

“We believe in you, Miguelito,” you added softly, feeling the weight of his disappointment. “This isn’t the end of your journey; it’s just a stepping stone. You’ll have many more races, and you can learn from this one.”

As the race continued around you, Miguelito wiped his tears away, still frustrated but beginning to process the situation. “I just wanted to make you proud,” he murmured, glancing between you and Carlos.

“You already have, mi campeón,” Carlos said firmly, pulling him into a hug. “We’re proud of your courage to get out there and race. That’s what matters most. Remember, it’s not about winning but how you respond to the challenges.”

You wrapped your arms around both of them, feeling the bond of your family tightening in the face of adversity. “And we will always be here for you, cheering you on, no matter what.”

As the race continued, the pain of the crash began to fade, replaced by the warmth

of your family’s love. Miguelito looked up at you both, the fire of determination igniting again in his eyes. “Can I race again next time?” he asked, a small smile breaking through his earlier frustration.

“Absolutely! And we’ll be right here, ready to support you,” you assured him, feeling a swell of pride as he nodded, resolve returning to his expression.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of deep blue and purple, you all gathered in the cozy living room of your home. Miguelito sat on the floor, fiddling with his racing helmet, still wearing his racing suit, a reminder of the day’s events.

Carlos plopped down beside him, his presence warm and comforting. “You know, Miguelito, today was tough, but it’s one of those days that will make you stronger,” he said, reaching out to adjust the helmet on Miguelito’s head.

“I still feel bad about crashing,” Miguelito admitted, looking up at his father with wide eyes. “I wanted to do it right.”

“Crashes happen to the best of us,” Carlos replied, his tone serious yet gentle. “I’ve had my fair share of spills too, and it never gets easy. But it teaches you to respect the track and understand your limits.”

You settled on the couch, watching the bond between father and son. “And it’s important to remember that it’s okay to feel upset,” you added. “But what’s more important is how you learn from it. Every race is a lesson.”

Miguelito’s brow furrowed as he absorbed your words. “So, I can learn to be better next time?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

“Exactly,” Carlos affirmed, smiling proudly. “Racing is about improvement and resilience. It’s not just about winning. It’s about pushing through challenges and enjoying the ride.”

Miguelito nodded, his small face lighting up with understanding. “I want to be better, Papa! I’ll practice harder!”

“Just remember to have fun while you’re doing it,” you encouraged, feeling the warmth of family envelop you. “Racing is a part of who we are, but it shouldn’t be the only thing that defines you.”

Carlos grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with admiration. “Your mamá is right, Miguelito. And no matter how many races you have, we’ll always be your biggest fans.”

“¡Sí! I want to race like you, Papa!” Miguelito exclaimed, his spirit revitalized.

Carlos chuckled, his heart swelling with pride. “You already are racing like me, hijo. Just keep your passion alive, and never stop believing in yourself.”

As the evening unfolded, laughter filled the air, the day’s disappointments fading into the background. Miguelito shared stories about his laps and the thrill of being on the track, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy, knowing that this was just the beginning of many more races to come.

And in that moment, you realized that racing was more than just a sport for your family; it was a beautiful tapestry woven with love, lessons, and the unbreakable bond between you all.

The night wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, and as you drifted off to sleep, you felt a deep sense of gratitude for the lessons learned, the dreams ignited, and the love that defined your family.

[lvmoure]

The only exception CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x lawstudent!reader

Summary: In which you were his only exception

Warning: none

whoomandiaries

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whoomandiaries life can be boring sometimes.

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The sun hung high in the sky, casting golden rays that shimmered across the azure waves of the Mediterranean. You leaned back against the plush cushions of the yacht, the soft hum of the engine mixing with the gentle lapping of water against the hull. Piñon, your playful golden retriever, sprawled lazily at your feet, occasionally lifting his head to watch the world pass by.

Carlos Sainz lounged beside you, his deep brown eyes reflecting the sunlight and warmth. He looked effortlessly handsome, dressed in a fitted white t-shirt and navy swim shorts. You couldn’t help but smile as he playfully flicked a drop of water in your direction from his half-full glass of lemonade.

“Careful! This is designer,” you teased, raising your hands in mock defense.

“Designer or not, it’s summer! You need to cool off!” he chuckled, his laughter infectious. He leaned over, his hair tousled by the wind, and whispered, “But not as much as I need to cool off after being in the sun all day.”

You shifted, turning to face him, your heart racing as you met his gaze. “And how do you plan to cool off, Carlos?”

With a playful grin, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “I think I need to jump into the water. Care to join me?”

Before you could respond, he was up and diving into the sea, creating a splash that sent Piñon barking in excitement. You laughed, shaking your head, and stood up, preparing to join him. The water was refreshing as you leaped off the side of the yacht, the coolness enveloping you like a soft embrace.

“Race you to the buoy!” Carlos called out, his competitive spirit shining through as he swam with powerful strokes.

“Loser buys dinner!” you shouted back, pushing yourself to swim faster, your arms cutting through the water with determination. You could hear Piñon barking from the yacht, encouraging you both with his excitement.

As you reached the buoy, breathless but exhilarated, Carlos caught up beside you, panting lightly. He flashed you a victorious smile, his hair slicked back and glistening. “I always win, mi amor.”

“Only because you cheat!” you retorted, splashing him playfully. The sunlight danced around you, and you felt a deep sense of contentment, knowing these moments were rare and precious.

He pulled you close, the water lapping around you as he looked into your eyes. “And what’s the prize for winning, then?” His voice was low, teasing yet filled with sincerity.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’ll have to think of something… How about a kiss?”

Carlos chuckled, leaning in to meet you halfway, his lips brushing against yours. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you and the water. It was a moment suspended in time, and you could feel the warmth radiating between you.

“Much better than any prize,” he murmured, pulling away slightly, his eyes still locked on yours.

With Piñon now swimming beside you, you both made your way back to the yacht. You climbed aboard first, shaking off droplets of water while Carlos followed suit, his grin widening as he ruffled Piñon’s fur.

“Let’s dry off and grab some snacks,” you suggested, settling down on the cushions again, where a spread of fresh fruits and pastries awaited.

“Only if you promise not to throw any more lemonade at me,” he replied, laughter ringing in his voice as he grabbed a slice of watermelon.

“Fine, but only if you promise to give me a back massage later,” you countered, leaning back against the cushions, allowing the sun to warm your skin.

“Deal,” he said, lying down next to you. “But you have to admit, I’m the best at massages.”

You chuckled, watching him with affection. “Fine, you’re the best, but don’t let it get to your head.”

With the sun setting on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you both enjoyed the serenity of the moment, the laughter, the simple joy of being together. This was your escape from the chaos of life—just you, Carlos, and Piñon, drifting away into a perfect day.

The evening was calm, the city lights twinkling outside your apartment as you sat at the dining table, law books sprawled in front of you. The pressure of the upcoming bar exam loomed over you, but Carlos’s presence was a comforting balm. He lounged on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but you could feel his eyes occasionally darting in your direction.

“Have you even looked at the notes I gave you so you can ask me?” you teased, glancing up from your book, trying to suppress a smile.

“Of course I have! Just checking on some updates,” he replied nonchalantly, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

“Uh-huh. I bet you’re just looking at race highlights again,” you said, shaking your head. “You know, studying takes more than just looking at your phone.”

He laughed, rising from the couch and striding over to you, leaning over your shoulder to look at your notes. “I could help you study, you know. Just think of all the legal terms I could teach you about contracts.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. “What do you even know about law? Besides, contracts aren’t your strong suit, Carlos.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve signed quite a few!” he protested, crossing his arms playfully.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a notification, drawing your attention away. As you reached for it, Carlos leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You know, I think it’s time we take a break from all this serious stuff,” he murmured.

“What do you suggest?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, suddenly aware of the tension in the air.

He smirked, tilting his head as he studied you. “How about a little kiss?”

You were taken aback but intrigued. “Now? Here?”

Carlos’s expression turned serious as he leaned closer, his lips almost touching yours. “Why not? No one’s here to see us.”

With a rush of excitement and mischief, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his. The kiss was soft and sweet, filled with the warmth of your affection. You felt his hands slip around your waist, drawing you closer as the world outside faded away.

But just as you deepened the kiss, the door swung open, and there stood Lando Norris, eyes wide in shock. “Whoa! Sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt!” he exclaimed, turning around quickly, his cheeks flushed.

You pulled away from Carlos, both of you caught off guard, laughter bubbling from your lips at the absurdity of the situation. “Uh, hey Lando! What brings you here?” you stammered, a mix of embarrassment and amusement coursing through you.

“I just came to drop off some papers! But, uh, I’ll just… let myself out,” Lando said, his voice a mixture of surprise and a hint of teasing. “You two can… carry o– What the actual fuck?!” Lando exclaimed the moment he realized that it was Carlos.

“Landito, calm down!” You stopped him.

“He is fucking devouring your lips, and don't even remind me on what I saw.” You rolled your eyes and Lando groaned.

“Wait till your brother hears about this!”

As he hurriedly retreated, you and Carlos exchanged wide-eyed glances, laughter spilling out again. “Well, that’s one way to make our relationship public,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

Carlos shook his head, still chuckling. “I can’t believe he just walked in on us like that. Do you think he’ll tell everyone?”

You shrugged, a playful smile on your lips. “Let him. I mean, it’s not like we were hiding it, right?”

“No, but I hate to hide you!” Carlos said, his tone suddenly serious, his eyes searching yours. “I want everyone to know how much you mean to me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity evident in his gaze. “Then maybe we should just embrace it. If Lando saw, others will too.”

Carlos grinned, a mischievous spark in his eyes. “Then we’ll just have to give them something to talk about. Starting with this.”

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one more fervent, filled with the promise of what was to come. As you kissed, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you—tangled in passion, laughter, and the thrill of uncharted territory.

The day of your graduation was filled with excitement, anticipation, and a hint of nervousness. You adjusted your cap and gown, glancing in the mirror, a sense of pride swelling within you. You had worked tirelessly for this moment, and now it was finally here.

As you stepped out of your apartment, you spotted Carlos waiting outside, looking dashing in a tailored suit. His eyes lit up the moment he saw you, a wide smile spreading across his face. “You look incredible, mi amor!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground in a joyous embrace.

“Thanks! I can’t believe this day is finally here,” you said, feeling giddy as you returned his embrace.

“You’ve earned every bit of this moment. I’m so proud of you,” he said softly, his expression serious now. You could feel the weight of his admiration, and it filled your heart with warmth.

As you made your way to the venue, Carlos held your hand tightly, navigating through the bustling crowd of fellow graduates and their families. The atmosphere was electric with laughter and excitement, each moment a reminder of the journey you had taken.

When you finally entered the auditorium, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of your classmates and their families gathered, a sea of proud faces and cheerful chatter. You took your seat, Carlos sitting with the crowds, his presence grounding you amidst the chaos.

After what felt like an eternity, the ceremony began. As names were called, you felt the tension build, each announcement bringing you closer to your moment. And then, finally, it was your turn.

You stood up, your heart racing, and walked across the stage. The applause from the audience was deafening, but all you could focus on was the bright smile on Carlos’s face, his pride palpable. As you received your diploma, the moment felt surreal, a culmination of years of hard work and perseverance.

After the ceremony, you and Carlos stepped outside, the sun shining brightly as friends and family gathered around to celebrate. You were bombarded with hugs, congratulations, and well wishes, but amidst it all, you felt a sense of calm as Carlos slipped his arm around your waist.

“Can you believe it?” he asked, a hint of awe in his voice.

“Not at all. It feels like a dream,” you replied, your heart swelling with happiness.

As the celebrations continued, Carlos pulled you aside, leading you to a quieter corner. “I want to say something,” he began, his tone serious once more. “I know we’ve had our moments—hiding, sneaking around—but I don’t want to do that anymore. Not with you.”

You looked up at him, your heart racing. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want to make this official. I want the world to know that you’re mine,” he declared, his eyes unwavering. “I want everyone to see how proud I am of you and how much I love you.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes at his declaration, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. “Carlos… I want that too,” you whispered, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

“Then let’s make it happen. Starting right now,” he said, taking your hands in his and raising them between you, a silent promise of your commitment.

With that, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that spoke volumes of your love and dedication. The world around you faded once more, the laughter and music becoming a distant echo as you lost yourselves in each other.

When you finally pulled away, the cheers from your friends and family surrounded you, but you barely registered them. You were in your own bubble, a cocoon of happiness and love, finally ready to embrace what you both had—openly, wholeheartedly.

As you stood together, hand in hand, the sun setting behind you, you knew this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey, one where you would no longer hide but shine together, side by side.

carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 so this is what it feels like to date your best friend's best friend for seven years. Mi amor, whoomandiaries, I love you so much 🫶🏻

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[lvmoure]

But Daddy, I Love Him CS55

Summary: In the youngest child of King Charles II and late Princess Diana of Wales fell for an F1 driver, and is willing to do anything just to be with him.

Warnings: slight angst and rebellion.

You want nothing but to escape from the royal protocols that your family have set.

You are a lot of things: classy, smart, beautiful, elegant, and also, away from the eye of many, you are nothing but a rebel. Growing up in a dysfunctional family where your brothers seem perfect, life is nothing but complicated. It becomes even more complicated when your older brother, Harry, decides to live away from everyone with his wife, Meghan. You feel the weight of expectation in Buckingham Palace, where every action is scrutinized and every misstep could lead to scandal. You yearn for freedom, for a life beyond the gilded cage of royalty.

It’s a rainy Thursday afternoon, and the clouds outside your window reflect the turmoil inside. The dark sky looms over the palace like an ominous reminder of your frustrations. You sit on your bed, staring at the opulent walls adorned with portraits of ancestors, wondering if any of them ever felt trapped in their roles. Your heart pounds in your chest, a constant reminder of the fight brewing inside you.

“Why can’t you just act like a proper lady?” your father’s voice booms from the hallway, pulling you from your thoughts.

You can hear him pacing outside your door, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. “You’re a princess, for heaven’s sake! This isn’t a game!”

You stand up, your anger boiling over. You open the door, your resolve hardening as you face him. “This isn’t about being a princess, Dad! It’s about being myself!” Your voice trembles slightly, betraying the intensity of your emotions.

He turns to you, his expression a mix of exasperation and disappointment. “Being yourself is exactly what got you into trouble last time. You can’t just run off to… to some racing event with that Sainz boy! It’s unbecoming.”

“Unbecoming?” you scoff, crossing your arms defiantly. “What’s unbecoming is pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m tired of this charade. I want to live my life!”

He steps closer, towering over you, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “And what kind of life do you think you can have? You’re throwing away everything—your title, your future—for a whim. For a boy!”

“Carlos is not just a boy! He’s passionate, driven, and he understands me in a way you never will!” Your heart races, but you refuse to back down.

“Passionate? Driven? Those are just words to romanticize what he is—a reckless race car driver! You think this is some fairytale?” His voice rises, echoing in the grand hallway, and the walls seem to close in on you.

“Maybe I don’t want a fairytale, Dad! Maybe I want to create my own story!” You take a step back, your breath quickening, realizing how far the argument has escalated. The tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away, determined to stay strong.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. “You are a princess! You have responsibilities, expectations! You can’t just abandon them!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a princess anymore!” you shout, the words escaping before you can stop them. Silence hangs between you like a taut wire, both of you breathing heavily, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air.

He studies you for a moment, disappointment flashing in his eyes. “If you leave, don’t expect to come back. This family doesn’t tolerate such behavior.”

Your heart sinks, the threat echoing in your mind, but the fire of rebellion burns brighter. “Maybe I’ll take my chances.” You turn on your heel and storm down the hall, the echo of your footsteps reverberating through the palace like a drumbeat of defiance.

As you grab a small bag, you throw in a few essentials—clothes, your phone, and a picture of Carlos you keep tucked away. The thought of leaving fills you with both fear and exhilaration. You pause at the door, your heart racing as you glance back at the life you’re about to abandon.

With one last deep breath, you step out into the rain-soaked streets of London, the cold air invigorating. Each step takes you further from the constraints of your title and closer to the life you’ve always dreamed of—one filled with passion and freedom.

Days pass, and you find yourself standing on the sun-kissed shores of Mallorca. The salty breeze tousles your hair as you sit on the warm sand, staring out at the turquoise waves crashing against the shore. You left everything behind: the palace, your family, the expectations. You made the choice to find solace in the sun, but it feels like a band-aid over a deeper wound.

Carlos, with his warm brown eyes and infectious smile, had always been a light in the dark. It was his idea to meet here, a promise he made to show you the world beyond royal duties. As you watch the horizon, you remember the first time you met him at a charity event, his passion for racing sparking something inside you that you never knew existed.

Suddenly, you hear his voice, and you turn to see him approaching. “There you are! I thought I’d lost you to the sea,” he teases, his smile lighting up his face.

You smile back, feeling the weight of your past lift slightly in his presence. “Just contemplating life and my terrible decisions,” you say, trying to sound light-hearted.

“Hey, every decision leads us somewhere, right? At least we’re here now.” He gestures to the beach, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at his optimism.

“Yeah, here. Away from everything,” you reply, your voice trailing off as you recall the argument with your father.

Carlos sits beside you, his presence comforting. “Is everything okay? You seem… distant.”

You sigh, looking out at the waves. “It’s just hard to let go of everything. My family… they expect so much from me.”

“You don’t owe them anything. You’re allowed to be who you want to be.” His words are gentle, yet they cut through the chaos in your mind. You turn to him, your heart racing.

“But what if who I want to be isn’t what they want? What if I’m just throwing everything away for nothing?”

“Nothing? You’re not throwing anything away. You’re chasing what makes you happy. And if that’s me, then I’ll do everything to make it worth it.” His sincerity makes your heart flutter, and you feel the connection between you deepen.

As the sun sets, casting a golden glow over the island, you realize how much you longed for this kind of connection. “What if this is just a summer fling? What if you go back to racing and forget all about me?” The fear creeps in, but you push it down, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Carlos takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “Then I’ll race back to you. No matter what, I won’t forget you. You’re not just some fling to me.” His eyes hold a promise, and for the first time, you feel hopeful.

That week, you explore the island together—dancing under the stars, sharing stories, and laughing until your sides hurt. Each moment feels like a stolen treasure, a world away from the palace. But as the days pass, the looming thought of returning home creeps into your mind, a shadow over your newfound happiness.

The week has come to an end, and you find yourself at a quaint café overlooking the Mediterranean. The sun rises slowly, casting a warm light that contrasts with the storm brewing in your heart. Carlos sits across from you, sipping his coffee, a content smile gracing his lips. You want to capture this moment forever, to freeze time in this perfect bubble.

But the bubble is about to burst. Your phone buzzes, a message from your father breaking the serene atmosphere. You read it, and your stomach drops. “Come home. It’s time to face your responsibilities.”

You set the phone down, feeling the weight of the message like a boulder on your chest. “I can’t go back,” you whisper, panic rising.

Carlos looks concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my father. He’s demanding I come back to the palace. I can’t bear to face him after everything.”

“Don’t you want to talk to him? Maybe he’s just worried.” He reaches out, but you pull away, the thought of facing your family unbearable.

“Worried? Or controlling? He’ll never understand. I feel like I’m suffocating in that place.” Tears brim in your eyes as the emotions flood over you.

“Then let’s not go back,” Carlos says fiercely. “We can stay here. We can make a life together away from all that.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of reality. “I can’t run forever, Carlos. My father will always find me.” You realize with a sinking heart that this paradise can’t last forever.

The conversation grows heated, both of you struggling to find a solution. “You have to fight for what you want,” he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. “Don’t give up on us.”

“It’s not that simple! My family… they have expectations. I can’t just turn my back on them.” The thought of your father’s disappointment stabs at your heart, but the idea of losing Carlos cuts deeper.

“Then you need to stand up for yourself. Tell him how you feel.”

You pause, considering his words. “What if he doesn’t care? What if he just wants to control me?”

Carlos reaches for your hand, holding it tightly. “You

won’t know until you try. You deserve to be happy, and I want to help you fight for that happiness.” His eyes are fierce with determination, and you feel a spark of hope igniting within you.

But the reality of your situation weighs heavily on your heart. “I don’t know if I can go back and face him,” you admit, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Then we’ll face it together. I’ll be right by your side.” His warmth envelops you, and for a moment, you believe him.

But then reality crashes in. You know what you must do. “I have to go back, Carlos,” you say softly, pulling your hand away. “I can’t abandon my family, no matter how hard it is.”

The decision hangs in the air, and you can see the hurt in Carlos’s eyes. “I understand. But it doesn’t mean it’s easy.” His voice trembles slightly, the pain evident.

“I wish things were different,” you murmur, your heart breaking as you stand up, ready to leave the paradise you’ve found.

As you walk away, every step feels heavier, and you can’t shake the feeling of loss that grips you. Carlos’s figure fades into the background as you board the plane back to London, leaving behind a piece of your heart in Mallorca.

Back in Buckingham Palace, the weight of reality crashes down like a heavy fog. You wear a smile for the cameras and the public, but inside, you feel like a ghost drifting through the hallways. The opulence feels suffocating, and every laugh shared with your family feels hollow. They celebrate your return, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside you.

Each day, the longing for Carlos grows, filling the empty spaces where happiness used to reside. You replay every moment from your week in Mallorca, from the gentle caress of the ocean breeze to the warmth of his hand in yours. The memories haunt you, and the loneliness settles in your heart like a cold stone.

One evening, you find yourself wandering the gardens, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the flowers. The beauty of the night contrasts sharply with your inner turmoil. You stop by the fountain, the sound of water soothing yet haunting.

Your father’s voice echoes in your mind, reminding you of the responsibilities you’ve shunned. You should be grateful for everything, yet all you feel is regret. “Why can’t you just be what we want you to be?” he had said, and the words sting like a whip.

You sink to the ground, tears spilling as you realize the truth—you cannot live a life dictated by others. You want to fight for your love, to reclaim the happiness you’ve tasted with Carlos.

“I can’t keep living this way,” you whisper to the night, your heart racing with determination. “I won’t lose him.”

The decision crystallizes in your mind: you will leave again, this time for good. You’ll fight for the life you want, for the love you’ve found. The fear that had held you back shatters, replaced by an unyielding resolve.

As dawn breaks, you pack a small bag once more, your heart pounding with the thrill of rebellion. You leave a note for your family, knowing they may never understand, but this time, you don’t care. You are doing this for yourself.

The flight to Mallorca feels like an eternity, your heart racing with anticipation. You step off the plane, the warm breeze washing over you, carrying the scent of the sea and memories of laughter. The familiar landscape unfolds before you, each corner reminding you of the moments you cherished with Carlos.

You find him at the same café, his laughter echoing through the air as he chats with a group of friends. When he sees you, his face lights up with a mixture of surprise and joy, and in that moment, everything else fades away.

“Is that really you?” he asks, disbelief evident in his voice. “I thought I lost you for good.” You run to him, throwing your arms around him, the warmth of his embrace grounding you. “I came back. I had to fight for us,” you breathe, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks. Carlos pulls back, searching your eyes for the truth. “You mean it? You really want this?”

“Yes! I want you, Carlos. I want this life, the one I choose for myself. No more hiding, no more running.” You take a deep breath, the weight of the world lifting off your shoulders.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, cupping your face in his hands. “I was worried you’d change your mind.”

“Never. I’ve spent too long trying to be someone I’m not. I want to embrace who I am, and that includes you.” You lean in, and he captures your lips with his, a kiss that seals the promise of a future together.

For the next few days, you immerse yourself in the vibrant life of Mallorca, exploring the island hand in hand. You learn more about racing, his passion igniting something within you. You share your dreams and fears, building a bond stronger than ever.

But then, the day comes when Carlos must leave for a race. As you stand on the balcony, watching him pack, a wave of sadness washes over you. “You’ll come back, right?” you ask, the uncertainty creeping in.

“Of course! I’ll always come back to you,” he promises, wrapping you in his arms. “Just remember, you’re the reason I push harder on the track. You give me strength.” As he leaves, you feel a mix of pride and longing. You have finally found your voice, your path, and love. But you know that this journey has only just begun.

Months pass, and you find yourself at peace with your choices. You’ve forged a life away from the palace, pursuing your passions alongside Carlos. The connection you share deepens, built on trust and understanding.

Finally, the day comes when you stand before your father again, ready to confront the past. You’ve made your decision; you want to forgive him and seek a relationship based on honesty.

“Dad, I want to talk,” you say, your voice steady as you approach him in the gardens. He looks up, surprise etched on his face. “You’re back from your… adventures.”

“I want to understand. I want us to move forward, but I need you to understand me too.” The words come rushing out, a torrent of emotions spilling over.

Your father’s expression softens, and for the first time, you see the regret in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just wanted to protect you.”

“I know. But I need you to let me be myself,” you reply, your heart open. “I want to find my own path, and I want you to support that.”

As the conversation unfolds, you both find common ground. There’s healing in vulnerability, and slowly, you rebuild the bridge between you.

A few months later, you stand in a sun-drenched chapel surrounded by friends and family, your heart pounding with excitement. Carlos stands at the altar, his eyes full of love and determination.

As you walk down the aisle, your father by your side, you feel a sense of peace. You’ve embraced your past, and you’re ready to step into the future. You take Carlos’s hand, and in that moment, you know you’ve chosen the right path.

The vows you exchange are a promise not just to each other but to yourself: to love fiercely, to fight for your happiness, and to always remain true to who you are.

As you seal your vows with a kiss, the future stretches before you—unpredictable, thrilling, and entirely yours.