#THIS IS CARLOS APPRECIATION HOURS ONLY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monzabee · 5 days

Text

the alchemy - cs55

masterlist || part 1 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where not Carlos, nor you, have the power to fight the alchemy.

Pairing: dad!carlos sainz x mom!reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: absolute fluff (been a while), possible ovary explosion bc of dad!carlos, cursing (because i use way too many f-bombs in real life too), kids (apparently, it’s a tw for some people), i tried hating charles but it’s not happenning so a cheater redemption arc (kinda, he's trying okay??)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, thank you all so much for the love you showed for part one, i really appreciate it and i'm sorry that this part has been a little delayed, but i just wanted it to be just as drama-filled as the first part whilst still being a bit lighter so i hope i found the right balance for it. while we love dad!carlos, i felt like charles still deserved a chance to redeem himself and come to his senses so we love that redemption arc for him (well, kinda guess?). also, i know we have one more part of this little mini-series to go, a social media au (yay!), but i just wanted to let you all know, once again, that i do not have a taglist, and no i will not be making one!! however, i do appreciate all your support and comments, and please do let me know what you think about this part! thanks to @percervall once again, who had to listen me talk about this part for many many hours and who was kind enough to help me proofread!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It only happened once every few lifetimes.

You honestly did not expect to end up with one of your closest friends – especially not after you told your cheating husband that you were getting a divorce, after he chose his lover over you and your baby; and most definitely not after the said close friend told you that he would step up instead of your cheat of a husband.

But there you are, in the arms of non-other than Carlos Sainz, your boyfriend, having just woken up by the excited pitter patter of feet right outside your bedroom door. “Carlos,” you whisper, nudging him softly to wake him up, “Carlos, wake up.” You watch as he stirs, and then buries his head onto his pillow mumbling all the reasons why he doesn’t want to be awake, but you just chuckle softly as you poke him again. “Carlos, please.”

With a disgruntled grunt, you watch as his eyes open, and with a scratchy voice he whines, “What, amor, I was sleeping.”

Rolling your eyes, you point to the bedroom door, “Listen,” you tell him, and watch as his eyes widen as realisation sets in at the same time his expression turns into a smiling one. “I think someone is excited for today.”

“You think?” He retorts, snorting lightly as he pulls you closer, “That’s all he’s been able to talk about for weeks, amor.”

“Well, can you blame him?” You nudge him, ignoring the sound of scraping of your son’s step stool outside your door. “He just wants to watch his father win.” Watching the smile on your boyfriend’s face grows as the door handle is jiggling, you point to the pillows with your head, “Let’s just pretend we’re asleep, he’ll be happier that way.”

With a deep sigh, the happy kind, he pulls you closer to himself – at the right time too, as you hear the patter of footsteps getting closer. With a tug at the comforter, you hear, “Papa, wake up.” You can hear Carlos, badly, muffling a chuckle by burying his head deeper into your neck, but the little voice beside him is non-relenting. “Papa! You promised me we’d go to the race today!”

“Carlos,” you whisper covertly, “you’re going to make him cry.”

Giving you a look that silently says, No I won’t, he turns towards the little intruder in your bedroom, quickly gathering him in his arms as he puts him on the bed next to you. The sound of laughter coming from two of the most important men in your life bring a sleepy smile to your face as you watch Carlos tickle your son despites his protests for him to stop.

“Mommy!” Your son exclaims, climbing over Carlos to reach you, “Tell Papa to stop! We need to get ready!” His face is flushed with excitement and laughter, a sight that fills your heart with warmth.

“Alright, alright,” you say, giggling as you pull him into a hug, “let’s get ready then. You don’t want to be late for your big day, do you?”

Carlos finally stops his playful assault, sitting up and stretching with a groan. “She’s right, buddy. We should all get up and get going. Lots to do before the race, you still remember our plan for breakfast?” Your son’s eyes light up even more, if that were possible, and he scrambles off the bed, running back to his room to get dressed. You and Carlos exchange a glance, something you seem to do more now than ever.

You wait until Rafael is out of the hearing distance before you tilt your head sideways and narrow your eyes in question, “What plan are you talking about?”

“Nothing for you,” he boops your nose with his pointer finger as he straightens up and gets out of the bed, “to worry your pretty little head about. Just come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but willing to play along. “So, you think I’m pretty?” you ask, batting your eyes at him exaggeratedly as he gently shoves you back into the bed. Getting up and stretching, which you shamelessly take the opportunity to ogle him, you watch him with a smile as he heads towards the kitchen following your son. Getting ready consists of brushing your teeth and hastily throwing on a robe for you, too anxious to see what you son and husband cooking up in the kitchen – literally.

The scene in the kitchen is enough to melt your heart on its own – Rafael is standing on his trusty step stool at the counter, his little hands busy arranging an assortment of fruits on a plate. The concentration on his face is evident by the way his tongue peeks out slightly in that adorable way he does when he’s focused, a habit that he picked up from his father. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, is busy with flipping something in a pan, shirtless might you add.

“Oh my God, look at my boys!” You croon, leaning against the doorframe with a playful grin. “You even have matching hats and everything!”

“Boys?” Carlos scoffs, turning to Rafael and pointing his finger towards you, “Can you believe her?” He then turns to you as he places his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. “We are not boys, amor, we are men.”

You chuckle at his exaggerated display of masculinity, shaking your head as you walk further into the kitchen. “Oh, of course, how could I forget? The two manliest men I know,” you tease, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Rafael, picking up on the banter, puffs out his little chest just like his father, mimicking his stance. “Yeah, Mommy! We're strong, right, Papa?”

Carlos grins, his eyes twinkling as he looks at Rafael. “That’s right, we’re the strongest men in the world." He turns back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And we make the best breakfast too. Isn’t that right, Raf?”

“Yes!” Rafael exclaims, beaming with pride as he holds up the plate of perfectly arranged fruit. “Look what I made, Mommy!”

You lean down to inspect his handiwork, smiling softly. “Wow, this looks incredible, sweetheart. You’re so talented!” You give him a big kiss on the cheek, making him giggle.

Carlos steps closer, holding out a fork with a piece of pancake speared on it. “And how about a taste test, amor?” His voice is softer now, the playful tone giving way to something more tender.

You take the fork from him, taking a bite of the pancake. The fluffiness and warmth of it fill your senses, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. “This is amazing, Carlos. You’ve outdone yourself.”

He watches you with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Only the best for you.”

Rafael, not wanting to be left out, grabs a piece of fruit and holds it up to you. “Try mine too, Mommy!”

You take the fruit from him, savouring the sweetness as you chew. “Delicious! You’re both going to spoil me with all this great food.”

Carlos chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. “That’s the plan,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shiver slightly. “I can also spoil you in the other way you like,” his voice drops enough for only you to hear.

You glance up at him, meeting his playful yet heated gaze, and feel a blush creep up your cheeks. “Carlos,” you murmur, half-warning, half-inviting, as Rafael happily oblivious to the exchange, chatters away about his breakfast creation. “I would like to still be able to walk by the time we get to the paddock.”

But Carlos just smirks, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “Later, amor,” he promises, his voice thick with affection and mischief.

Before you can respond, Rafael tugs at your robe, breaking the spell. “Mommy! Let’s eat now!” His voice is filled with the kind of innocent excitement that only a child can muster, and it instantly brings you back in the present moment.

You smile down at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Alright, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Carlos gives you one last knowing glance before stepping back to grab the plates. As the three of you settle down at the table, you try to ignore his lingering gaze that makes your heart race just a bit faster, though you’re not exactly that successful.

It would be safe to say that it had been a crazy few years for Carlos Sainz. Or at least, that’s what Charles would say – if, you know, anybody was to ask him his opinion. First, he had lost his seat at Ferrari, and Charles really felt for him at first; after all, he was his teammate. But he was also the man who ended his marriage, so his feelings for Carlos changed for the worse very quickly. The whole situation had him coming to some revelations.

First revelation he came to was the fact that he was wrong for cheating on his wife, however complicated the situation might be. He had tried to justify it to himself, blaming the stress and the strain, but deep down, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done.

Second revelation was that you deserved to be happy, with or without him – he was just being petty because it was with his old teammate. You deserved to be happy, and while Charles could admit that in theory, accepting that your happiness was now tied to Carlos was a bitter pill to swallow.

Third, and probably the biggest, revelation was that he had royally screwed up when he chose the other woman over you and your son, and it was a loss that he mourned every single day. If he thought seeing Carlos thrive after his own life was crumbling down was hurting his ego, seeing Carlos be the father to his son, was a thousand times worse.

Life took an interesting turn for Carlos after that night at the hotel in Monte Carlo. You had no expectations for him, you didn’t expect him to stay true to his words and be there for you and your baby. But that was the thing, because he kept his promise. He was at your door the next morning with a short list of apartments and penthouses in Monte Carlo. Anticipating your need of getting out of the country, he was prepared – he also looked at apartments in New York, houses in LA and townhouses in London (the few apartments he chose in Madrid also didn’t escape you, but it was a conversation you weren’t ready to have yet). So, when you were having, yet another breakdown in front of him, he just stood next to you and held you until you calmed down. He was always next to you, somehow managing his schedule for the racing season and coming out to see you between races. He kept true to his promise as he made waffles for you at midnight, grumbling about how pancakes were superior, and he held your hand when you were in the delivery room even though you were probably close to breaking the poor man’s hand. The bigger shock came when he announced that he would not be racing for the next season – something he had conveniently not told you in the months leading up to your pregnancy. It also led up to your first fight, and your first real confrontation since this unexpected journey began. The news that Carlos wouldn’t be racing the next season blindsided you. It wasn’t just the fact that he had made such a monumental decision without consulting you; it was the realisation that he had chosen you and your child over the sport he loved so deeply.

“What do you mean you’re not racing next season?” you had asked, your voice edged with disbelief. You were standing in the kitchen of the new apartment he had helped you find, your baby—your son—napping peacefully in the next room. Carlos was casually leaning against the counter, arms crossed, as if he had just announced something as mundane as what was for dinner.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you had come to recognize as a sign that he was about to say something serious. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he said, his voice calm, and God it drove you insane how calm and rational he was being with a decision so irrational to you. “And after everything that’s happened... I just think it’s the right decision for now.”

“But racing is your life,” you insisted, the weight of his words settling in. “I don’t understand how you can just walk away from it.”

Carlos met your gaze, his brown eyes steady and full of determination. “It’s not about walking away,” he explained. “It’s about priorities. You and Rafael... you’re my priority now. I want to be here for you both, not halfway across the world, missing out on everything.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. For so long, you had been used to being let down, to promises that were made and then broken. But here was Carlos, standing in front of you, willing to give up something he loved more than anything for you and your son.

“That’s not fair to you,” you whispered, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dreams.”

Carlos stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “You’re not taking anything away from me,” he assured you. “You’re giving me something I didn’t even know I needed. I’m choosing this, because I want to. I want to be here for you, to be the father Rafael deserves. I want us to be a family.”

His words broke through the wall you had been holding up, and you let the tears fall. It wasn’t just about the sacrifice he was making; it was about the fact that he was doing it willingly, without hesitation, because he wanted to be with you and Rafael. It was a love that was deeper than anything you had ever known, and it terrified you as much as it filled you with hope.

“But what if you regret it?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of your fears.

“I won’t,” Carlos said firmly, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears. “I know what I want. And if I ever go back to racing, it’ll be when we’re ready. When we both decide it’s the right time. But for now, this is where I need to be.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was as serious as ever, and in that moment, you realized that this wasn’t just about him making a choice— it was about him choosing you, over and over again, in a way no one ever had before.

The argument you had anticipated fizzled out before it could even begin. There was nothing left to fight about, not when he had laid his heart bare for you. All you could do was fall into his arms, holding onto him tightly as you let the weight of his decision sink in. It was overwhelming, knowing that someone loved you that much, that they would uproot their entire world just to be by your side.

So, yeah, Carlos Sainz had not raced for the 2025 season. If it were up to him, he would stay with the two of you for the 2026 season as well, but you and Carlos Sainz Sr managed to convince him to get back to the real world, no matter how much he was enjoying being a stay-at-home dad. But the biggest shock for the world, and Charles, wasn’t that Carlos was returning to the F1 grid – no, the biggest shock was that he was returning to the F1 grid in one of the most coveted seats; right next to Max Verstappen. The reaction to the news had been mixed. Some were thrilled to see him back, eager to see what he could do in a car as competitive as the Red Bull. Others were skeptical, wondering if a year away from the sport had dulled his edge. For Charles, the news was a bitter pill to swallow. Carlos wasn’t just returning to the grid—he was stepping into one of the most sought-after seats in F1. But more than that, it was the reminder that Carlos had taken something else from him, something far more personal and painful. Watching Carlos step into his new role at Red Bull, knowing that he was now part of your life and Rafael’s life in a way Charles never could be, was a constant, aching reminder of everything he had lost.

And so began the Leclerc-Sainz rivalry – which although sounds riveting, is probably the reason why you had to visit your cardiologist more times than necessary within the last couple of years. On the surface, it was the perfect storyline: two former teammates, now on opposing sides, battling it out on the track in some of the most intense and thrilling races the sport had ever seen. But for you, it was far from entertainment. Each race weekend became a new source of anxiety, and Carlos knew how much it affected you, so he tried his best to keep the rivalry on the track. He would reassure you, telling you that whatever happened during the race, it wouldn’t change how he felt about you or Rafael. But even he couldn’t deny that the tension between him and Charles was personal. It was more than just racing—it was about proving something, not just to the world, but to themselves and each other. And so, race after race, you found yourself on an emotional rollercoaster. The thrill of seeing Carlos perform at his best was always accompanied by the fear of what might happen if things went wrong. The rivalry wasn’t just a storyline for the media—it was a real, living thing that had a profound impact on your life.

So, when Rafael told you that he wanted to watch his father race live, you were hesitant to agree. The thought of bringing your son into that world—where emotions ran high, and the stakes were even higher—filled you with dread. The last thing you wanted was for Rafael to witness the intensity of the rivalry that had consumed not just Carlos and Charles, but your entire life.

Carlos, however, was adamant. He knew how much it meant to Rafael to see him race, to be a part of something that had been such a significant part of Carlos’s life before Rafael was born. “He needs to see it,” Carlos told you one evening as you sat together, discussing Rafael’s request. “He needs to know what I do, why it’s important to me, and why I went back to racing in the first place.”

You couldn’t deny that Carlos had a point. Rafael idolized his father and seeing him in action would only strengthen the bond between them. But the idea of watching the race unfold, of seeing Carlos and Charles go head-to-head while your son was there, was almost too much to bear. The days leading up to the race were a blur of preparation and anxiety. Carlos did his best to reassure you, but the tension was palpable. He understood your fears and promised to keep things professional, but you both knew that once the lights went out, everything would be on the line. So, you weren’t exactly surprised that your boyfriend spent the entire morning buttering you up and getting you to relax as much as possible about the day ahead of you.

And to be perfectly fair, he was right for the most part. It had been fine from the moment you made it into the paddock, which somehow worked wonders on your anxiety. As you made your way to the circuit, Rafael’s excitement was infectious. He was practically bouncing in his seat, his little face pressed against the window as he took in the sights. You couldn’t help but smile, his joy momentarily easing the knot of anxiety that had been tightening in your chest since the moment you agreed to come to the paddock in the first place.

Seeing him so happy and in his element, you know instantly that the paddock, no matter in which country, is going to become his safe place. Rafael keeps asking Carlos questions about everything from how they manage to keep the cars so clean to what would happen if they didn’t wear helmets. And Carlos is patient as he answers all his questions, no matter how childish or obvious they might seem. So, when he told Rafael that maybe, just maybe, he might end up in one of the cars he admires so much one day, you know your son won’t miss the beat. “Can I?” He asks you, eyes widened with a pleading look as he clasps his hands together under his chin, “Please, Mommy, I promise I’ll be very careful.”

“Absolutely not,” you shake your head, mind immediately starting to think about all the things that could go wrong, “it’s so dangerous! Just think about how afraid you’d be of the speed.”

Rafael scoffs, arms crossed on his chest as he pleads through the pout he has on his face, “I’m not afraid of the speed! Papa, tell her I’m not afraid of the speed!”

Carlos reaches over Rafael’s head as he takes off his cap and ruffles his hair, which manages to get a series of giggles from the little boy, and he affirms, “You are not afraid of the speed, but your mother is right.” You have to hold in your laughter when you see the indignant look on Rafael’s face, but Carlos continues talking as he signals for his son to listen, “We can talk about it when you are older, but for right now you are my lead strategist, capisce?”

Rafael steers his pout towards you, and you shrug innocently in response, which gets a resigning sigh from him. “That’s fine, I guess.” He mumbles, and points to the garage door behind the table the three of you are sitting, “Can I look at your car again?”

“Be careful, and make sure you tell Caco where you are.” Carlos reminds him, as Rafael excitedly scurries off toward the garage, leaving you and Carlos to share a quiet moment.

Carlos leaned back in his chair, a content smile playing on his lips as he watched Rafael dart off. “He’s got the bug,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice.

You sigh, shaking your head playfully. “I know. He’s already got the attitude. I don’t think I’m ready for him to jump in a kart and never look back.”

Carlos reaches for your hand, his touch grounding you. “We’ll keep him safe,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “I promise. Whatever happens, we’ll make sure he’s ready, and we’ll protect him from the worst of it.”

You nod, squeezing his hand in return, trusting him like you always have. As you sit together, watching Rafael’s excitement fill the garage, the sweet moment is interrupted by a voice both of you know very well. “Seriously? You’re using him to get to me on a race day now?”

Your fingers nearly crush your poor boyfriend’s hand as you look at the intruder, your heart immediately racing. You turn to see Charles standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. His eyes flicker from Carlos to you, then toward the garage where Rafael had just run off. “Excuse me?” You manage to get out, your voice sharp with surprise. The audacity of his accusation stings more than you expected. Charles' gaze hardens as he steps closer, clearly not backing down.

“You heard me,” Charles says, his tone edged with bitterness. “Bringing Rafael here, right in the middle of everything... it’s not a coincidence. You’re just trying to—”

“To what?” Carlos cuts in, his voice calm but firm. His protective instincts kick in as he stands, placing himself between you and Charles. “To have a good day with our son? To let him enjoy the race?”

Charles scoffs, shaking his head. “He’s not your son, he’s mine. Stop fooling yourself into thinking you’re his father just because you’re here.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, everything goes silent. Carlos' expression tightens, but he doesn’t move, his body still a shield between you and Charles. You feel your breath catch in your throat, the weight of Charles’ words hanging heavy in the air. “I know who his father is, Charles,” Carlos says, his voice calm but steely. “And considering the fact that he doesn’t even know you exist, I’d say me being here is more than proof that I am his father.”

Charles' jaw clenches, and his eyes flicker with something raw—pain, jealousy, frustration, all mixed together. “You think you can just step in and take my place? Be the dad, play happy family with my son?”

“Cabrón,” Carlos warns, and though you’ve heard him use that nickname for his friends countless of times, this voice is devoid of all affection, “you lost all right to call yourself Rafael’s father when you decided to choose whatever flavour of the month you were with at the time.” You feel your heart race, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the moment and the murderous look on Carlos’ face. Carlos steps forward, his voice low but terse. “You think being a father is about biology? About showing up when it’s convenient for you? Rafael doesn’t even know who you are because you’ve never been there for him. I have. I’ve been the one tucking him in, I've been there when he was sick and crying, and I’m the one showing him love every single day.”

Charles flinches, the sting of the truth evident in his expression. For a moment, the fire in his eyes dims, replaced by something else— regret, perhaps. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and he straightens his posture, trying to regain control of the situation. “I made mistakes,” Charles says, his voice quiet but defiant. “But you can’t just erase me from his life. He has a right to know who his real father is.”

Carlos’ gaze doesn’t waver, his protective instincts blazing. “Rafael knows who his real father is. He may not understand all the details yet, but he knows who’s been there for him. And when the time comes, when he’s ready, we’ll tell him the truth. But that decision isn’t yours to make anymore, Charles. You gave up that right a long time ago.”

“You’re just going to sit there and let him talk to me like this?” Charles hisses, turning towards you in an attempt to find sympathy. His eyes are pleading, but there’s anger simmering beneath the surface.

Your chest tightens as you meet his gaze, feeling the weight of everything that has been left unsaid between the three of you for so long. You take a deep breath, your voice soft but firm when you finally respond. “It’s time to let go, Charles.” Charles' face falls at your words, the weight of their finality hitting him hard. His lips part slightly as if he wants to argue, but no words come. The tension in the air is suffocating, each second stretching out painfully. Carlos remains silent, standing tall beside you, his hand subtly resting on your back for support. He knows this conversation is yours to finish. “It’s not about erasing you from Rafael’s life,” you continue, your voice steady though your heart is pounding in your chest. “It’s about doing what’s best for him. And right now, that means protecting him from the confusion and hurt that the fact that you were too much of a coward to choose him.”

Charles takes a step back, the anger in his expression dimming into something more fragile. His eyes search yours, perhaps looking for a trace of the bond you once shared, but it’s clear that things have changed too much. Too much time has passed. “I’m not trying to hurt him,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I apologised countless of times, what more do you want from me? I am sorry, okay?”

“Are you quite done?” Charles flinches at your sharp tone, the weight of your words settling heavily between the three of you. His gaze drops to the ground as if he’s searching for something to say, but nothing comes. Carlos stands steady beside you, his presence strong, comforting, even. “I am sorry, too, about it all.”

You can feel Carlos’ confused stare on you, and Charles looks at you with the same expression as he asks, “You... do?”

“I’m sorry that you were cheating on me from the start, I’m sorry you were too weak to stay faithful to me after we got married,” you continue, the words heavy but resolute as they fall from your lips. Charles' expression shifts, a mixture of guilt and pain crossing his face. Carlos’ hand tightens slightly on your back, offering silent support as you finally lay bare what you’ve held inside for so long. “I’m sorry I ignored it for as long as I did, and I’m sorry that I ever found out.” Charles’ face hardens, his eyes clouded with guilt and perhaps a hint of defensiveness as your words hit him. The weight of what you're saying seems to pull him down, and he takes a deep breath as if trying to absorb the impact. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, not willing to let this moment slip away before you say everything that’s been weighing on your heart. “I’m sorry I ever found out about the lies, but most of all, I’m sorry for Rafael. He deserved better, he deserved a father who was present and loved him without conditions,” you say, your eyes locking with Charles’. “You weren’t there, Charles, you weren’t there before Rafael, and you weren’t going to be there after him. So, I suppose what I’m not sorry for is falling in love with a man who was courageous enough to fill that role for both me and him.” Charles’ lips part as if to argue, but no words form. His eyes betray the guilt and regret he’s been carrying, but there’s nothing left for him to say. He knows it. You know it. Even the mechanics and people around you who have stopped what they are doing to watch this whole thing go down know it. “Finally, I’m sorry that you felt the need and audacity to come down here, now not only have you ruined our marriage, but you’ve also ruined my day-off which I intended to spend with my boyfriend, and our son.”

Charles flinches at your final words, his face crumpling under the weight of it all. The sting of your truth, laid bare for everyone to hear, leaves him speechless. His bravado has completely evaporated, replaced by a hollow sense of regret and defeat. He opens his mouth as if to respond but quickly closes it, realizing there’s nothing he can say that will undo the damage he caused, the pain he inflicted, or the years he lost. His eyes flicker to Carlos, who stands steady, unmoved by Charles’ turmoil. There’s no room for pity here. “I—” Charles begins but stops as Carlos raises his hand.

“I think you’ve said enough,” his voice lacks all sympathy for his old friend, his old teammate, “it’s best you should go before you distress my girlfriend, or my son any further.

Charles’ eyes widen slightly at Carlos’ words, the final blow landing hard. He looks as if he’s been physically struck, his shoulders slumping as any remaining fight drains from him. His gaze flickers between you and Carlos, searching for something—anything—but finding no redemption, no sympathy. There’s nothing left to say.

He swallows hard, his lips pressed into a tight line, before finally nodding in a reluctant acceptance. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. He turns on his heel, walking away with slow, defeated steps. The tension that had gripped the air slowly begins to dissipate as he disappears into the distance, leaving only the echoes of his footsteps behind.

Carlos turns to you, his hand still resting on your back, but now it’s a comforting gesture rather than a protective one. His expression softens as he searches your face. “Are you okay?” he asks gently.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s just happened, but also a sense of relief. “I think so,” you reply, your voice steady despite the emotional whirlwind you’ve just gone through. “It needed to happen.”

Carlos nods, his thumb brushing soothingly against your back. “He’s not going to ruin this for us. Not today, not ever.”

You smile faintly, grateful for his support. “No, he’s not. He’s gone now, and I’m finally free of it all.”

“We’re free of him,” Carlos adds, a reassuring strength in his voice. “You, me, and Rafael. That’s what matters.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful on the track today,” you plead, chin resting on his chest as you look up to him.

Carlos chuckles softly, his warm smile easing the tension that still lingers. “I promise,” he says, his voice light but sincere. He tilts his head, giving you a playful wink. “But you know me, I can’t drive too carefully. It's in my nature to push the limits a bit.”

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, but your heart flutters slightly at the thought of him racing. It’s something you’ve grown used to, but there’s always that edge of worry. "Just... don’t make me regret asking," you tease, though the concern in your voice is real.

Carlos leans down, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, the gesture filled with tenderness. "I’ll come back to you both, safe and sound," he whispers softly, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment. "Always."

You smile, feeling reassured by his words, and you give him a small nod. "Alright. Go show them what you’re made of, then."

As Carlos pulls away, you can see the familiar spark in his eyes, the passion and excitement that he always carries before a race. He gives your hand one last squeeze before turning to head toward the car. You watch him for a moment, taking in the sight of him—confident, composed, and ready for whatever comes next. Just before he reaches the garage doors, he turns back and flashes you that signature grin that always makes your heart skip a beat. “For you and Rafael,” he calls out. Your smile widens as you watch him go, knowing that no matter what happens on the track today, you’ll always have each other.

It’s not hard for you to find Rafael when you head back to the garage yourself. He’s completely engrossed in conversation with one of Carlos' engineers, pointing out different tools and parts of the car with wide-eyed fascination. His little hands gesture excitedly, and the engineer listens with a warm smile, clearly amused by Rafael’s enthusiasm. Carlos stands off to the side, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching his son with a look of pure affection and pride. His eyes sparkle as he takes in the sight of Rafael’s excitement, and there’s a certain softness to his expression that makes your heart swell.

You walk over, standing beside Carlos, who doesn’t take his eyes off Rafael but greets you with a small grin. “He’s already talking like he’s part of the team,” Carlos says quietly, his voice filled with pride. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s taking over the pit crew in a few years.”

You chuckle softly, watching Rafael explain something animatedly, his little voice echoing through the garage. “He’s got your passion,” you say, leaning into Carlos slightly, feeling the warmth of his presence.

Carlos hums in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist. “Maybe,” he says, his tone affectionate, “but the way he talks about everything… that’s all you. He’s got your curiosity, your heart, so, all my favourite parts of you.”

“My boyfriend the charmer,” you mumble as you lightly hit him on his chest.

Carlos chuckles, catching your hand gently against his chest before pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Just telling the truth,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling as he holds your gaze for a moment longer. “You deserve all the charm in the world.”

You roll your eyes playfully, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re good at this, or I might think you’re just trying to get out of bath time for the next few days.”

Carlos laughs, his warm, deep voice sending a wave of comfort through you. “I’d never do that. Bath time is part of the job.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice with a mischievous grin. “But if I do this race right, maybe we can negotiate something.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning suspicion, but you can’t help the flutter in your chest at the way he always manages to make you feel light and cared for, even in the most mundane moments. “Alright, we’ll see how you perform today,” you tease back “if you win, I’ll let you put a baby in me, how about that?”

Carlos freezes for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise before a slow, playful grin spreads across his face. “You’re serious?” he asks, his voice filled with both excitement and disbelief.

You nod, biting your lip, unable to hide your own smile. “If you win today, we can start thinking about it.”

Carlos lets out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair as if trying to process what you just said. “Well, I’ve never been more motivated to win a race in my life,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a new intensity.

You chuckle, your heart racing at the look on his face. "Just make sure you’re focused on the track and not… well, other things."

“Oh, I’ll be focused,” Carlos says, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “But now, I’ve got the best reason in the world to win.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “For you, and for giving Rafael a baby sister or a brother.” Your breath catches at the sincerity in his voice, and as he pulls back, he flashes you that charming grin again before heading off toward the car. You watch him go, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness settle in your chest.

Eventually going behind the barriers and watching the race is harder than you’ve expected, you realise. As the laps go by, you keep glancing at Rafael, who’s glued to the action, his eyes wide with admiration for his dad. You smile at the way he clutches his little racing helmet, a miniature version of Carlos’ gear, his excitement evident. It’s clear he’s living every moment of the race through his dad’s performance, just as you are. When Carlos is in the lead, you hold your breath, willing him to stay ahead. When he’s fighting for position, you’re on the edge of your seat, cheering him on with every ounce of energy you have.

As the final laps approach, you glance at the clock and then at Rafael, who’s practically bouncing with excitement. You can tell he’s just as invested in the outcome as you are. You squeeze his hand, giving him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a determined nod.

When Carlos crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd is deafening, and you let out a cheer of your own, tears of joy welling up in your eyes. You look down at Rafael, who’s jumping up and down, his face beaming with pride and excitement. “He did it!” you shout, lifting him up in your arms as you join in the celebration.

Caco and a couple of the mechanics help you and Rafael to get to the barriers, weaving through the throng of celebrating fans and team members. As you approach the barriers, Rafael’s excitement is noticeable. His eyes are wide with wonder, and he clutches his mini helmet tightly, bouncing with every step. Caco, with his warm, reassuring smile, offers a few words of congratulations and gives Rafael a high-five. Carlos comes into view, his car parked in the parc fermé. His grin is infectious, and you can see the joy and relief in his eyes as he looks up at you and Rafael. The moment he gets out of the car, he’s enveloped by his team, but his gaze quickly finds you and Rafael. He finds his way to you after getting weighed and you can see him grab his cap before finally rushing towards you. Carlos scoops Rafael up into his arms, spinning him around as they both laugh, and then turns to you, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection.

“Well, looks like we’ve got a baby sister or brother to start thinking about,” Carlos says with a wink, setting Rafael down so he can pull you a in for a kiss.

You smile against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the joy of this moment. When you pull away, you look up at Carlos, your eyes sparkling with love and excitement. “We do, don’t we?” you say softly, your heart full as you take in the sight of your family together in this victorious moment.

Rafael, still buzzing with excitement, tugs on Carlos’ sleeve, his little voice bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Papa, did you see me cheering? I was so loud!”

Carlos laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy. “I heard you, buddy. You were the loudest cheerleader out there.”

As the celebration continues around you, you feel a profound sense of contentment. The day’s events, the race, the emotions—everything has come together perfectly. You take a deep breath, savouring the feeling of being surrounded by the people you love most.

Carlos pulls you close, wrapping his arms around both you and Rafael. “Thank you for everything today,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve made this day even more special.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart. “It’s been an incredible day,” you agree, looking out at the jubilant scene around you. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend it with anyone else.”

As you watch him savour the moments with your son before he needs to go for his interview and the podium celebrations, you realise just how lucky you are to have something that only happens every few lifetimes.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #carlos sainz angst

567 notes · View notes

sterredem · 5 months

Text

Simp

Carlos sainz x reader

[SMAU]

Face claim Gracie Abrams

Summary Carlos simping over his girlfriend… that’s it.

Word count -

Warning none (not proofread)

A/N pretty short but I still like it! Hope you also enjoy it! Made it in a few hours (over a few days).

I changed the request a bit so it was easier to make a smau but I hope y’all enjoy it!

Instagram

Liked by Yourusername and 1.739.826 others

Carlossainz55 Happy birthday Mi Amor 🎉🎂 she said I needed to use ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22’ but she turned 28 so that doesn’t make sense.

View all 2.836 comments

Yourusername CARLOS! I said not to post it!

Carlosssinz55 Sorry mi Amor, you just looked so beautiful.

Lilymhe So beautiful!

Yourusername says you!

Francisca.cgomes Happy birthday my love!

Yourusername Thank you🫶

Alexandrasaintmleux You should have used the lyrics!

Yourusername That’s what I said!

Carlossainz55 Sorry mi amor!

User1 she is so pretty!

User2 Happy Birthday Y/n!

User3 Awwwww! She’s so cute!

User4 love the ‘shy’ pictures! She’s so real for that!

User5 love Carlos showing of Y/n!

User6 🎂🎉

User7 so cute!

User8 they are the perfect couple!

User9 the best couple frfr!

User10 2 different birthday cakes?!

User11 she’s so lucky!

User12 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY FAV WAG

User13 love the mix of the pics!

|———————————<3—————————————|

Twitter

|———————————<3—————————————|

Instagram

Liked by Francisca.cgomes and 1.236.278 others

Yourusername This is totally not Carlos. Totally not. Just me Y/N posting myself!

View all 3.739 comments

Carlossainz55 So pretty Mi amour

Francisca.cgomes Oh no… she’s gonna be so mad…

Lillymhe NOT THE FIRE😭

Alexandrasaintmleux THE PICTURES😭 so unserious😭

Carmenmmundt HAHAH Totally not Carlos no…

User1 HAHAHAH I LOVE THEM

User2 not Carlos simping over his gf on her own account😭

User3 THE PICS ARE SO CUTE

User4 She’s so pretty! Even when she does the most weird things😭 so jealous

User5 HAHAHA CARLOS

User6 Oh she maddddd

User7 Carlos simping part 2000000

User8 exited to see her reaction

User9 the stuffed animal😍

User10 I love their relationship😍🫶

User11 I love their dog😭

User12 The WAG’s in the comments! I love their relationship!

User13 not this being one of the only posts of hers with over a million likes……

Yourusername CARLOS!!!

Yourusername WHAT IS THIS?!?!

User8 HAHAHHAHAHAHAH

|———————————<3—————————————|

Instagram

Liked by Francisca.cgomes and 1.738.037 others

Carlossainz55 appreciation post for my lovely and beautiful girlfriend @yourusername

View all 5.836 comments

Yourusername OMG CARLOS!

Yourusername but tbf the pics are kind of cute

Alexandrasaintmleux You mean OUR girlfriend?

Carlossainz55 no

Yourusername yes

Francisca.sgomes Pretty girl fr

Yourusername I’m blushing

User1 so pretty

User2 cuteeee

User3 love the couple pictures

User4 the shoes🥵

User5 best couple ever

User6 my fav wag and fav driver

User7 so jealous of Y/n

User8 she’s so hot

User9 not Carlos simping on main🤣😂

User10 THE COOKING PIC LIKE AYDJDHBEEG

User11 Carlos is the biggest simp ever AHHAHA

User12 there so amazing

User13 I hate them

|———————————<3—————————————|

Instagram

Liked by Carlossainz55 and 563.835 others

Yourusername Hanging out with my loves🫶 missed y’all!

Tagged Alexandrasaintmleux, Francisca.sgomes, Lilymhe, friend1, friend2

View all 4.835 comments

Carlossainz55 GORGEOUS

Carlossainz55 Pretty girl!

Carlossainz55 I’m in love with you

Carlossainz55 pls date me

Yourusername CARLOS HAHAHAH we are

Carlossainz55 OMG

Francisca.sgomes gorgeous girl liked by author

Alexandrasaintmleux loved hanging out!

Yourusername We should do it again soon!

Lilymhe Run away with me

Yourusername already packed my bag!

Carlossainz55 ???!!!?!?!

Yourusername look away my love

Friend1 love you! Liked by author

Friend2 So pretty! Liked by author

User1 not Carlos again🤣😂

User2 pretty

User3 🥵😍😘

User4 the pics are amazing!

User5 hottest friend group ever!

User6 doe Carlos have notifacations or something?! He is always the first hahah

User7 I am so curious what happened in those pics🤣😂

User8 love your style!

User9 in love with you

User10 Carlos here again

User11 pretty girl

User12 I love her friendship with other WAG’s

User13 you don’t deserve Carlos

|———————————<3—————————————|

Instagram

Liked by Yourusername and 1.738.935 others

Carlossainz55 I may be a simp but how can I not when this is my girlfriend?

Comments are limited

Yourusername CARLOS YOU ARE THE SWEETEST

Yourusername I love you!

Carlossainz55 I love you too!

Francisca.sgomes YOURE so real for that

Lilymhe Prettyest girl

Alexandrasaintmleux You’re right, you now have the rights to simp over my girlfriend

Cgarles_Leclerc simp

Landonorris simp

|———————————<3—————————————|

748 notes · View notes

dumbseee · 4 months

Text

jude being in love with you implies him sending your random pictures of random things with, "saw this and thought of you <3". like the one time he sent you a stray cat following him in the streets and sent it to you with the caption, "i met your cat self earlier today, i named her yournickname <3."

when he’s having an important game and you can’t be there to support him, he makes sure to call you a few hours before training, your voice being the only medicine to his anxiety. before the match, he kisses the beaded bracelet you made for him. he kept calling it his lucky charm and swore to never take it off. (carlo and the boys almost have to tie him to the floor to take it off him, before games.)

jude pays attention to you a lot, when your eyes wander a little bit too long on a book or a piece of clothing, you should know that the item would find it’s way on your bed, the very next day with a cute note attached to it, "for you my love <3 you deserve it." but he’s also very private and protective over you, your relationship is pretty much public and people know who you are to jude, but he refuses to share you with the world. when walking on the streets with many people around, he makes sure to tighten his grip on your hand, walking in front of you protectively.

when asked about his celebrity crush in interview he names you, "umm, i don’t know if you’ve heard about her but she’s amazing and so damn pretty. her name is y/n l/n!" he never miss the opportunity to compliment you. even in sweats and barefaced, he’ll look at you with those pretty brown eyes of his, making you feel so loved and appreciated. jude also do not tolerate any criticism or hate aimed towards you by his "fans". he often took his socials to call out some disrespectful fans who wouldn’t stop harassing you. "don’t call yourself a fan if you can’t accept that i am, in fact, very happy with this woman and as long as i’ll be breathing, i’ll love and protect her."

#jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham blurb #football x reader #football masterlist #football au #football #real madrid

481 notes · View notes

coco-loco-nut · 4 months

Text

Book Club - Part 9

pairing: grid x reader

summary: you just got your wisdom teeth out, just in time for winter break fun with headcanons

a/n: thanks for the request, I missed the club❤️ ALSO! the original post just hit 1,500 notes??? like guys🥹 ilysm, you don’t even know. you are still reading my silly little writings, and i appreciate that more than you know. every like, comment, and reblog is the reason we are here 9 parts later (seriously you should see how happy i am when i see comments)

requests open masterlist

——————

- You didn’t tell anyone else on the grid other than Lance, obviously

- They were all surprised when it was announced that you were going to be missing Abu Dahbi

- Your oral surgeon only had that Wednesday free before Christmas

- …and let’s be real, your seat was secure, you weren’t going to win the WDC, and the constructors championship was locked in

- You would raise hell if you couldn’t enjoy the food around the holidays, so missing the last race it was

- You were exhausted from the season and appreciated the early break

- Lance just let it slip to the drivers on Friday a couple of hours after he got there

- You were sitting at home with Kimi, swollen and in pain all Friday

- “What do you mean she won’t be here? We have our presents for her” Fernando pouts

- Charles one day ships you cases of his gelato with a note telling you to feel better, he’s trying to get into the club for the gossip

- Lance gets invited to the club meeting to his surprise

- He assumes that they want to check in on you, despite them blowing up your phone

- No, he was VERY wrong

- Lance got roped into showing them videos of you on drugs

- Their favorite was the one of you when you first came out from being under

- “I’m married? Oh my god, I married Nico Hülkenberg? This is the best day of my life”

- You were sobbing tears of joy

- Nico was sent the video immediately, you gave him permission via text to post it the next day

- The second favorite was your favorite to laugh at

- You went on a massive rant about how Susie Wolff is a MILF and how you hoped Toto could fight because the female driver was your woman crush and you WILL have her

- Susie loved the video (George and Lewis sent it in the Mercedes family gc), Toto… not as much but he was amused

- You got a lot of fussing drivers on Facetime during the meeting

- You were loopy af from the painkillers and general exhaustion during it, it wasn’t your fault they called you late

- Kimi forced them to shut up and hang up so you could sleep

- Carlos joked about being relieved that there wasn’t another race for you to follow his trend during an interview

- You won the first race the next year

- Your phone started blowing up with messages on social media wishing you a quick recovery

- Most of the book club showed up to your home after Abu Dahbi, wanting to make a quick stop to check in before the break

- “Hello, wife,” Nico greets you when he sees you

- You joked you were about to file for divorce from Lance, who just sighed and went to get you a carton of LEC

- You had to film you opening your secret santa gift and send it to the F1 social team

- You got a quilt blanket that had a square for each book you read with the club since it started

- You actually started sobbing (you blamed the meds, even if you were actually crying)

- Lewis got the biggest hug ever, he enlisted help from Valtteri for all the books

- You forced them to cut the parts of you crying out of the video

- You got Logan an old iPod full of popular music (you hacked into his phone to check the genres he liked) from his childhood and now

- Obviously you added headphones and a couple chargers

- Logan used it all the time, he called you immediately to thank you

- You had the honors of choosing the first book over winter break

- You chose an F1 romance novel

- Boy oh boy were those meetings fun, just tearing up the book for its inaccuracy

- Daniel vowed to write an accurate one and sell it

- Spoiler Alert: he never did

- But Fernando did

- It was an international bestseller

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 grid #f1 grid x reader #daniel ricciardo #george russell #logan sargeant #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen #valtteri bottas #lewis hamilton #fernando alonso #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #book club #book club is back #silly little headcanons

381 notes · View notes

mirohlayo · 7 months

Note

hi could you please write how all the f1 boys would handle fans comments about their gf not being conventionally attractive or being plus size? esp george or logan 🩵

Hii ! I didn't write how all of the f1 drivers cuz it would be too much but I did write George and Logan. Also sorry for taking a little time, I was swamped with classes this week 🫶

F1 DRIVERS DEFENDING YOU ON

YOUR APPEARANCE

( include piastri, norris, leclerc, sainz, hamilton, george, verstappen, ricciardo, sargeant & gasly )

warning : insecurities ??, things related to physical appearance, body ect...

note : i don't know if my warnings are accurate lol

─ OSCAR PIASTRI

to him, you were the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. so of course, seeing those awful comments about your appearance, face and even body makes him so damn furious. in front of people, especially in front of cameras, he would defends you in an implicit way, more like voice up about body positivity and respect every type of body. but in private, when there's only you two, he'll never stop bringing about how perfect and gorgeous you look, and that he'll cherish you for the rest of his life.

─ LANDO NORRIS

boy would be mad mad. ain't no way for him to let anyone talk about you in such a disrespectful and bad way. he'll make sure you're always comfortable and secure with your own body and appearance, by praising your beauty literally every single hour. and he doesn't think twice before rejecting every single one person who talks badly about you. he always posts some stories about you, where he basically overwhelms you by compliments and obviously to fuck off your haters in his sassy way.

─ CHARLES LECLERC

he was actually shocked by the fact people hate on your body and appearance because he literally loves these parts of you. first he'll reassure you, comforts you because after all you being a goddess is just the truth. and then he would reply to every hate comments about you, defending you like it was the end of his life. he reminds you everyday to not feel bad and guilty about yourself, to not listen to those bullshit because not a single one from them are real. just listen to him and his devoted compliments.

─ CARLOS SAINZ

it's simple, if someone talks bad about you then he'll talk bad about them. his girl is the definition of beauty and perfection. he genuinely doesn't care about your attractiveness or your body weight, cause he'll love these things anyway. he's always so enamored by how beautiful you look, and he needs people to know that. so whenever someone is insulting you, he just reminds them that there is nothing more shameful than attacking a marvel like you. a gem of beauty like you.

─ LEWIS HAMILTON

i know for sure he'll immediately defends you. and the cause in general, doing an inspired speech about bodies. he doesn't really insults or disrespect people too, cause after all he prefers keeping that energy to compliment you. but still, he makes sure haters won't never ever again talk about you in a horrible way. then he'll suggest you to stop social medias and just give up on your phone for a bit, to only focus on his words and your natural beauty.

─ GEORGE RUSSEL

first, his priority is you. by the second he saw those comments, he immediately look out for you. even if you haven't seen the comments, he's already there to reassure you. to shower you of heartwarming compliments and just genuinely appreciate your beauty, praising your curves and your body. then he'll try to ensure that you are not aware of these messages, that at no time you'll be confronted with bad comments about you. he makes it a promise, because you deserve it.

─ MAX VERSTAPPEN

the man is out of control when it comes to you. and especially when there are negative comments about your physique. it’s something he loves about you, something he adores deeply. he can literally admire you for hours without getting bored. there is so much perfection in your body. and no need to talk about your attractiveness. so as long as you know that, you're fine. but if those comments get out of hand, then he's not afraid to speak up and talk shit about whoever is insulting you.

─ DANIEL RICCIARDO

if there's one thing he can't tolerate, it's seeing you depressed because of hateful comments. he doesn't understand at all why people would hate on such a beautiful and amazing person like you ? but other than that, he'll be the best comfort boyfriend. he makes you laugh, your cheeks ache because of smiling too hard. he'll try to improve your mood by telling you funny jokes, stories, everything that makes you feel better. and on the other hand, secretly defending you on social medias by using some fake account.

─ LOGAN SARGEANT

boy is so protective towards you. maybe even overprotective. but that's his way to keep you away from bad things, such as awful comments about your physical appearance. he defends you for sure. more than anything else, day and night, he puts all of his anger into his replies to shut their mouths. and that both in public and on platforms. he doesn't understand why people don't recognize the beauty of your face, body, or even personality. just everything about yourself actually. cause you can be sure he's so fucking in love with these aspects of you.

─ PIERRE GASLY

oh man is mad. super mad even. you're literally the most precious person to his eyes, and by that logic the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. you're a piece of art, and people should know this. he won't hesitate twice before calling names the ones who disrespect you. maybe he's a bit too harsh but they just deserve it, nobody can talk bad about you, it's impossible for him. and then you can be sure he'll shower you in lot of compliments the next few weeks. telling you how gorgeous you are.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russel x reader #max verstappen x reader #logan sargeant x reader

997 notes · View notes

bluecollarmcandtf · 5 months

Text

"Dude, I'm in your brother-in-law!"

Panic twists your gut as the bizarre scene sinks in! Those unnaturally clouded eyes are the trademark of Jimmy, your long-dead friend, and they're sitting in the skull of Carlos, your sister's fiance! The ghost is up to his usual antics, possessing yet another guy in your life without any regard to you.

"Did you imagine a tight gym rat like this would wear undies like these?" Jimmy chuckles, referring to Carlos' patterned boxers, "I mean how could you be so intimidated by a guy who's got hearts on his crotch?"

The underwear is the least of your worries: the man is supposed to be walking down the aisle in an hour! It may have been a dick move for your sister to get engaged to your high school bully, but that didn't mean you wanted her future husband to be late to the altar!

"Don't even bother asking me to get out of this body, dude!" the deep baritone of Carlos sings with Jimmy's cadence, "The only thing I plan on getting out of is this tux! Training like this needs to be appreciated, and who better to appreciate it than you? I'm sure you'd love to know what your sister is getting tonight..."

"I mean just look at these abs. It's like a rock hard washboard if you want a feel..." Jimmy winks one of his starkly blank eyes at you, "...speaking of being rock hard, it looks like you're enjoying this bonding time with your new brother-in-law. After all, Carlos does need to apologize for all the bullying he did in high school."

With a racing heart, you shush him and beg for Johnny to leave. He needs to return Carlos to normal before anyone notices! The wedding would be over if someone found the groom naked and flirting with the brother of the bride!

"If you're gonna be my new little bro..." Jimmy says with an unsettlingly accurate impression of Carlos' demeanor, "...then I think you should get to know me. Come on and grab my fat, meaty pecs; pinch my nipples; let me know who the real man is around here..."

It's hard to resist. You've only ever caught stolen glances at Carlos. The jerk would always shove you into a locker when he caught you staring in his direction, yet now he was begging for your attention.

"Come on, bro. Grab my athletic little ass and grope my crotch. It's the least I can do after targeting you for all these years."

Before you realize what you're doing, you find yourself rushing towards the shredded latino and pressing yourself against his exposed body, layered with dense musculature. Part of you still expected Carlos to kick you in the nuts and call you a slur, but his lips instead gleefully embrace your own.

"Damn, if I'd known being queer was this good, I woulda married you and not your sister!" he exclaims. You just roll your eyes, knowing Carlos isn't actually saying these things. Jimmy is just puppeteering his mouth for your amusement, "I bet having your dick in my mouth will be better than the tits of any girl! The only way a piece of crap like me can apologize is on my knees..."

You stifle a moan as all 200 lbs of the naked jock drops to his knees with a dopey grin. Carlos' soulless eyes stare at the tent in your pants like it's the most desirable thing in the world. It doesn't take long for him to unbuckle your pants and open his mouth...

...twenty minutes later, you're still catching your breath while Carlos slowly redresses.

"Now you can watch your sister marry this homophobic dirtbag and know that you've shoved your shaft down his throat," Jimmy purrs, enjoying his final moments in Carlos' form, "I'm not going to brush his teeth, so he'll have to taste you throughout the entire wedding."

You giggle at the thought of the guy wondering about the strange flavor in his mouth while reading his vows. Somehow, Carlos doesn't seem as big or intimidating as he once did.

"If it were up to me, I'd commandeer his whole life," Jimmy went on with a sparkle of enthusiasm in Carlos' clouded retinas, "I'd walk him out there in nothing but his heart-patterned undies and announce to his whole family that he's a flaming homosexual. Then I'd like to spend a couple weeks working his body as a stripper at the nearest club, and of course I'd come home to you every night..."

The idea of Carlos coming out to his orthodox family and working as a stripper is an insane one, but it did turn you on. It's too bad your sister's taken a liking towards him, otherwise, you'd tell Jimmy to go crazy with the guy.

"Imagine your old high school bully coming home to you every night, hot and sweaty from dancing all day, with a new skimpy costume for you to explore. Damn, I'd want you to find a new way to degrade me each night while I wore him. It'd be healthy, I think, after all he's put you through."

Jimmy's crazy ideas never cease to amaze you. A little time belittling Carlos sounds hot as hell!

You give Carlos one last kiss and remind your paranormal buddy that he has to leave soon. The stud frowns, looking sad that he won't be possessed by a gay spirit anymore. At least you know that if this man ever screws up, if he ever wrongs your sister, if he ever hurts her; Jimmy is just one seance away from charging back in his body and making this twisted fantasy come true. It's only a matter of time before Carlos screws up his marriage, and then he's yours.

You almost can't wait for your sister's marriage to fall apart, and it hasn't even begun...

#gay possession #male body swap #male possession #gay ai art

376 notes · View notes

theemporium · 1 year

Note

hiya I love your work w ricciardo chef’s kiss 👩‍🍳💋not sure if you’re up for writing abt mick (if not carlos would be great!) but if you are I hope I can req a piece with this prompt? ❛ you don’t have to be gentle. i won’t break. ❜ tysm!!

omg thank you so much! and thank you for requesting!!🖤this is my first time writing for mick so I hope you like it!

You loved Mick, you truly did.

Everything about him had been like a dream since the moment you met. He was sweet, far sweeter than the boys you had dated before him. He was kind and generous, and he loved spoiling you when he had no reason to. He loved making sure that you always felt loved, that you always felt appreciated and cared for.

Mick Schumacher loved like he wanted to give you the world and there was nothing you would change about him for the world.

Well, nothing you would change except one small, minuscule, teeny thing.

Mick was gentle.

He was gentle in the way he took your face in his hands and kissed you. He was gentle in the way he always took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers when you were out and about, walking around whilst running errands. He was gentle in the way his words were sickly sweet and made you feel fuzzy inside.

He was gentle in the way he was a literal Prince Charming and it only made you feel bad when all you could think about was him being anything but gentle.

You wanted him to grab your hips like he meant it when he pulled you into a kiss. You wanted him to thread his fingers through your hair and tug your head back as he kissed and marked himself all the way down your neck. You wanted him to throw you around because you have seen him work out, you have seen those damn arms of his and you knew he could.

Sometimes, you don’t want Mick to be gentle at all.

Tonight should have been perfect. Between you working long hours almost every day this week and Mick finally coming back after a long stint of races, tonight was meant to just be about the two of you. Mick got you all dolled and dressed up, wined and dined you to your heart’s content and had been the most perfect boyfriend all night.

By the time you made it back home, you were all over him and he was more than happy to comply. But lying on your bed as your boyfriend ran his hands up and down your sides like you were glass, it made your stomach twist with the desire for more, for more of him, for a different side of him.

“You don’t have to be gentle.”

You blurted the words out before you realised and Mick froze, lifting his head from the light kisses he had been placing down the plane of your stomach. You watched as his brows furrowed together, blinking a little like it took him a few seconds to fully understand what you had just said.

“What?”

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, Mick,” you murmured, albeit a little shyly as your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you. “I’m not gonna break.”

“You don’t like it when I’m gentle?” he asked, his expression looking a bit like how you would imagine a kicked puppy would look and guilt instantly flooded through you.

“No, no,” you quickly shook your head as you sat up, the blond following your actions. “I love it when you’re gentle just….”

“Just?” he prompted.

“Just sometimes I wish you weren’t,” you admitted to him. “Sometimes I wish you’d just…be a little rougher, kiss me a little harder,” you paused for a moment, your eyes meeting his. “Maybe fuck me a little harder too.”

His eyes darkened slightly. “Fuck you harder?”

You nodded.

“Say it again,” he murmured, raising his hand to brush his knuckles down your flushed cheeks. “I said, say it again, schatz.”

Your breath hitched. “I want you to fuck me harder, Mick.”

You weren’t sure how your boyfriend would react. You had thought about it many times, usually on nights when he was far away from you and his side of the bed was empty, and you simply craved his touch. You wondered what he would do, what he would say if you told him the fantasies you had about him treating you almost like he hated you.

You never thought it would end up quite like this.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whined, your cheek pressed against the pillow that was wet with your tears, your fists clenching onto the sheets as he pounded into you from behind. “Please, Mick, please.”

“You sound so pretty f’me when you beg, schatz,” he groaned, his stomach clenching as the sight of you. Your thighs slick with your own arousal, your cunt soaking and clenching around him, your ass bouncing back against him with each thrust. It was a sight he could get used to. “C’mon, baby, keep going.”

“Please,” you cried out, cutting yourself off with a choked moan as his hand slapped the side of your thigh, the sting far more pleasant than you assumed. “I-I can’t, Mick, please—”

You could feel his chest pressed against your back, his lips brushing against your cheek as he slid inside you, so fucking deep that you could have sworn you could feel him in your throat and he stayed there.

“You wanna come, baby? You think you’ve been good enough?” he murmured, a small smirk on his lips as he felt your walls clench around him.

“So good,” you whined, your mouth falling open as he pushed his hips further against you. “Fuck—”

“Come for me, baby, let me feel you come around my cock,” he groaned in your ear, his hands squeezing your hips so tight you knew you were going to bruise, and fuck, if that didn’t make you come harder. “That’s only number one for tonight, not gonna stop until I fuck the word gentle out of your mouth.”

And that was a promise he kept.

1K notes · View notes

kingofthecotas · 6 days

Text

find tomorrow with you

5 times valentino suggests they get married and 1 time marc does | 2.4k words

5+1 is a fun and whimsical format that we should use more often

–––

It’s not the first time Marc has been to Tavullia since Valentino decided his life was infinitely better when they spoke—and, indeed, fucked—but today is the first time he truly seems comfortable.

Pecco being here is helping, helping soothe the agitation that is all Bez’s, helping to be a friendly face—and Luca, if he weren’t finding it all so funny, would be helping as well. Marc is smiling, talking, laughing—and he isn’t dragging his feet as they all get ready to ride. That’s the crux of it, the load-bearing pillar that crumbled their first time around.

Not this time. They won’t let it.

(Not ever again, Valentino won’t let that happen ever again. He won’t do that to Marc ever again.)

It’s never polite when they race at the ranch. It’s animalistic, all friendship abandoned at the archway that marks the start of the track, screeching under helmets as they tear around corners and dive into the side of opponents. No quarter. No prisoners.

Naturally, Marc, now he’s comfortable, is perfectly suited to this kind of all-out warfare.

(He’s terrifying. Valentino is entranced. He loves him.)

It happens after about an hour, all of them hot and tired but no one willing to throw a white flag. Marc goes for the lead, throws it up the inside of Bez, and outbrakes himself. He skids to the edge of the track, where his front tyre finally surrenders, and he’s sliding through dirt, one leg dragged with the bike.

Even over the growl of two-stroke engines, Valentino can hear Bez’s, “Oh shit.”

He pulls to the side of the track, kicks the peg-stand down with a practiced ease that covers his panic, because Marc is staggering away from under his bike, is collapsing on his back, shoulders shaking, and what if he’s hurt—?

“Marc?”

Marc is cackling like a maniac, leathers dusted white, one hand over the part of his helmet where his forehead would be—even Bez can’t stop himself laughing in return.

Valentino kneels beside him, pushes his visor up. Then he pushes Marc’s open, too.

“You idiot,” he says, slow and deliberate, yet without sting.

Marc laughs harder. “That was fun!”

Valentino leans down, helmets almost touching. “I am going to divorce you.”

Bez chokes on his giggle.

Marc doesn’t miss a beat, eyes still smiling at Vale through his visor. “You have to marry me to do that.”

“I will marry you,” Valentino agrees, “and then I will divorce you.”

Marc laughs again.

——

ii.

Valentino’s phone alarm goes off at 5:45, fifteen minutes to spare before lights out, and he stifles a groan, rolls away from Marc. Marc does not appreciate being woken up before seven on a Sunday.

(He knows that. He loves that he knows that.)

Qualifying had been hairy, drizzling but not completely wet. It should be a dry race, though, and he settles himself on the sofa downstairs just in time for the broadcast to start scrolling through the starting grid. Kimi had done well, and he smiles.

There’s a noise in the doorway: Marc, a hoodie thrown over his bare chest, eyes heavy.

“Good morning,” Valentino says, raspy. “Did I wake you up?”

“Who has a race at this time?” Marc grumbles.

“They are in Japan,” Valentino says, and lets Marc crawl into the space next to him, tired and clumsy with it. “Now you know what it is like when I am watching you in Japan, or Malaysia, or Australia.”

Marc groans in the back of his throat.

“You could go back to bed.”

“You’re not there.” Unfocused eyes peering over the top of his hoodie, Marc glares at the screen, seemingly unaware that he’s just curled something warm and tender around Valentino’s ribs. “Who are we cheering for?”

“Ah, your friend Carlos managed only twelfth. It is Piastri and Verstappen at the front—Kimi is there in fourth, you see? And the Ferraris in fifth and sixth—always we want them to do well. Lando had a penalty, so he is seventh, but the McLaren should be fast here.”

They’re pulling away for the formation lap, weaving to warm their tyres. Marc watches, focused as ever, until he yawns. Valentino shushes him.

“They are not even racing,”

“They are explaining the strategy.”

Lights out. Clean start. Marc is watching more intently now, undivided attention, check pressed against Valentino’s arm.

Ten laps in, Gasly dives down the inside of Ocon, and they’re both spinning off into grass and gravel; embarrassing but harmless, enough to bring out the safety car. Valentino pulls himself free and goes to make coffee.

Marc is barely visible beneath the throw when he returns, dark eyes glaring balefully at the television like it’s offended him personally, but he softens when Valentino hands him a mug.

“You are the best,” he mumbles, then, “At making coffee.”

Valentino laughs—once, he might have bristled at the harmless joke—and slides back into his spot between Marc and the sofa arm. Marc thumps his head down, somehow burying himself even deeper in his swaddling of blanket and hoodie and Valentino.

It’s—it’s something they never would have imagined, even two years ago. It’s gentle, early Sunday mornings wrapped around each other; the kind of softness that shouldn’t be possible after years of tearing each other apart, digging in fingers and pulling until they drew blood.

Valentino doesn’t ever want to go there again. He doesn’t ever want to lose this.

Marc is breathing softly against his arm, still, quiet, perfect.

“I want to marry you,” he murmurs.

Silence. His stomach drops.

Marc’s inhale catches in the back of his throat, halfway to a snore, and Valentino laughs, gentle so he doesn’t wake him. He plucks the coffee cup, dangling precariously, from slack fingers, and places it on the side table.

——

iii.

They’ve created a routine over the past few months.

(Valentino’s stomach jumps every time he thinks about it, thinks about how they’re falling into habits, into familiarity. Every time, he smiles.)

It’s their last day together for a while: Marc is leaving later, and Valentino flies early in the morning to get to his GT race. But the routine doesn’t change. He’s making lunch for them. Marc is upstairs—his phone had rung, insistent, and he’d groaned but pulled away, leaving Valentino to chop the rest of their salad.

Marc emerges after nearly twenty-five minutes, eyebrows pinched together, but accepts the plate Valentino slides towards him with a distracted smile.

“Everything okay?” Valentino asks.

“Ah, my accountant.” Marc scowls. “Apparently I am spending too much time in Italy.”

Valentino can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.

“It’s not funny,” Marc says, almost whines. “It’s a tax thing. Between all the time I spend here, and time at the factory—not enough in Spain, apparently.”

Shrugging, Valentino taps one finger on the table. “We could get married.”

Marc snorts. “Would that help?”

“I don’t know. I am very bad to ask about tax advice, remember?”

“Me too.” Marc stabs a piece of his salad—viciously, in Valentino’s opinion.

“Don’t frown. It will be okay.”

“I can hide here. It is difficult for you to be in Madrid.”

“It will be okay,” Valentino repeats. “And remember, we can always get married.”

He thinks he deserves it when Marc throws a slice of bread at him.

——

iv.

Clouds hang heavy on the mountains in Spielberg, threatening rain but holding off for now. Valentino leaves Luca with a last pat on the shoulder, weaving his way up the grid towards Franky’s starting spot.

It’s slow going, stopped every few steps, shaking hands with people he recognises, people he doesn’t.

“Valentino—Valentino!”

It’s Laverty, and Valentino doesn’t mind that because he doesn’t tend to ask stupid questions. He indulges the interview, long past acceptance of the fact that he built his own mythos and will never be left alone for the rest of his life. Yes, he’s doing well, thank you. Yes, it’s nice to be on the grid. Yes, he’s proud of his boys. Yes, he’s still enjoying racing with BMW.

“And a final question,” Michael says. “You seem like you and Marc Márquez have finally buried the hatchet. Is everything put to bed? How did you manage it?”

Maybe Michael Laverty does ask stupid questions.

Perhaps he should have been expecting it, because clasping hands before a race, sharing a smile under the podium—people notice. Especially when the norm used to be nothing at all, or worse.

“Ah, you know.” He has plenty of shields for the media, and it’s no problem to pull out an old favourite. “We talked. Dinner with candles. It is all going very well. Maybe soon we get married.”

Michael laughs, loud and boisterous, like Vale hasn’t just wrapped up the truth in a pretty package and presented it as a joke. He smiles, camera-easy, and returns Michael’s ciao.

It’s only when he turns around that he realises Álex and Bez, lined up side-by-side on the grid, are staring at him.

——

Misano is hot, sweltering August-end heat. Valentino is sweating under his cap and sunglasses, pressed in a red throng of Ducati engineers. One-two. Red on red.

It’s Marc who’d won, victorious in the battle of weaving-turning-diving along long straights and through heavy-brake corners. Pecco had given him a good fight, an Italian classic of a race; he’s smiling at Marc, learning to enjoy the scrappy thrill of battle as well as the ease of a flawless win.

Marc’s shining, beaming at his team, smiling down the cameras, alive under the sun. Valentino swallows down the urge to kiss him, if only because their comms officers would kill them both.

The podium has never seemed so long. Media obligations have never seemed so long. It’s an age before they’re alone, motorhome door locked, and Valentino has Marc, to himself, finally.

He used to think Marc was too much for him, in danger of eclipsing him, their implosion inevitable as two brilliant stars orbited closer, closer, too close. Too much light for the world to handle.

If he met that version of himself now, Valentino thinks he would shake him.

Marc glows, yes, but there’s a brightness that only Valentino gets to see, one that erupts out in starbursts of ecstasy when they’re together, when Valentino is pushing inside him, when Marc is staring up at him like there’s nothing else in the world.

Valentino stops, earning a petulant glare; even that’s breathtaking. How—how—he can’t find the words.

“I think,” Valentino forces out, elbows taking his weight, “I want to marry you.”

Marc blinks, face suddenly cutting, incredulous. “You are telling me this now?” He’s a livewire, crackling with sparks, hot with triumph, shooting static through Valentino’s skin. He’s beautiful. Valentino wants to see this for the rest of his life, so yeah, he’s saying it now.

He tilts his hips, and the disbelief is gone, washed away as Marc gasps. It’s something like reverence now—but not how it used to be. Nothing that Valentino could shatter this time, even though he still wants to hold it close.

Contrary as always, Marc winds fingers through his hair, pulls him down for a breathless kiss—and Valentino smiles into it, because he can do this, he can have this effect on Marc, still. Still.

“Vale—”

He’s helpless when it’s Marc. Still. Always.

When they’re finished, when they’re lying curled into each other, Valentino breathing heavy into Marc’s hair, Marc looks up, eyes narrowed.

“You did well today,” Valentino tells him softly, and the hard expression is gone once again, replaced with a different kind of wonder.

“Did you mean it?”

He knows what Marc means. “Yes.”

Marc nods. “Ask me again. Another time.”

It’s—Valentino smiles again. “That was not a no.”

——

It’s not a bad crash—it’s not, not by the metrics of this sport, not compared to what it could have been, what it has been in the past.

It’s not bad, but it could have been: Marc, bumped wide by Acosta, unable to save it, sliding helplessly through the corner apex—and Bez, unsighted, trying to avoid the recovering KTM, sailing past his braking point towards Marc, and almost—almost.

It’s not bad, but it was close, and when Marc is back in the paddock, when he’s speaking to cameras, when he’s with his engineers, there’s something wild about him, something faraway sitting behind his eyes, and Valentino knows. He knows.

(He still dreams, sometimes, of Austria; not of the crash, but the feeling of it, the prickle at the back of his skull, the cold finger-brush of something not right. The almost that he didn’t see coming.)

So he waits. Marc is settled enough, trusts him enough, to reach for him when he needs him. Valentino trusts Marc enough to let him.

The knock on his motorhome door comes long after the chequered flag has fallen. Valentino doesn’t get up, knows Marc will let himself in.

“Sorry. Pedro wanted to talk—I am not angry, but good he apologised.”

“That’s okay,” Valentino says, gentle.

Marc drifts, loose, unmoored, towards the sofa, folds his legs underneath him, presses into Valentino’s space. Valentino lets him, waits for him to speak.

Marc is shaking. Not a lot, just enough for Valentino to notice when he takes his hand.

“Okay?”

He’s not, of course he’s not, but it’s a door nudged ajar, an opening if Marc wants to take it.

“That was—close.”

“Yeah.”

“I was—watching the bike.” Marc swallows. “Just—that was all I could do. Watch it coming towards me.”

Valentino pulls their joined hands up, presses a kiss to the back of Marc’s.

Marc’s next exhale trembles in the space between them.

“You’re okay.”

“If Bez didn’t turn—”

If. Almost. “You’re okay,” Valentino says again, because he needs to hear it himself. Marc’s fingers clench in his. “Okay? Look, you are holding my hand. You’re okay.”

It won’t be long before Marc is through this, before he’s smiling, before he’s raring to climb on his bike again. Not yet, though. Valentino knows—he knows.

“We should get married,” Marc says abruptly.

“I have been saying—”

“Seriously.”

Valentino takes him in: pinched eyebrows; hair flattened from his Ducati cap; pursed lips. “I think I am offended, that you only ask me after today.”

Marc pulls his hand away, the laugh jolting out of him. “Valentino—��

“And you are asking me in a motorhome—really, I would have taken my hoodie off at least—”

“Vale,” Marc groans, but he’s there, he’s smiling, he’s back.

He can’t stop a smile twitching the corners of his lips in return. “Yes?”

“That was not a no.”

Valentino takes his hand again.

#quite possibly the most self indulgent thing i've ever written #offering it up to you like the lion king baby #domestic fluff! they think they're funny!#motogp rpf #rosquez #marc marquez #valentino rossi #academy boys as background characters #cara.fic #motogp fic #ftwy

148 notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 7 months

Text

The Wolf, The Bunny, and the Muppet

Carlando X Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Carlos makes plans, Lando doesn't follow them, and punishment ensues. She's just trying to look cute, is that really so hard?

Warnings: Mildly dark Carlos, Denial, Overstimulation, Bondage, Degradation, Praise, PinV, Marking, Heavy subspace, Lando being a pain, BDSM, unprotected sex (not condoned), crying, anal with mild prep,

Notes: So... this is a thing. I fell in love with this towards the end. Dark Carlos is my new favorite thing. Hope the requester appreciates my effort because this was A LOT. Jk, kinda, but I do hope you like it!!

Side note: feeding my praise kink fuels my motivation to write. I am lacking that currently.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It's not often Carlos makes a pre-planned effort to put a scene together. He's calculated, sure, but he can also go with whatever the situation calls for.

This weekend is different. He has something he wants to try and has made his partners aware of the plan. It's not often he gets to delve into non-sexual domination. The kind that builds up into something more.

He'd been very clear about the rules after getting them off on Thursday. Hopefully enough to satisfy them (Lando) until Sunday night where he would tear them apart and put them back together.

Lando has always been the trickier of the two. She does whatever Carlos says. Lando can but chooses not to.

Needless to say, that if Lando breaks any of the rule's things will become significantly more difficult for everyone involved. Mostly for himself, but Carlos also doesn't really want to put that much effort into doing something different.

Friday is easy. Lando isn't pent up, both are dressed in outfits he'd picked out, and haven't complained about it. Not that he's expecting it. He's not going to put them in something they aren't comfortable with.

Friday practice goes well. Enough for Carlos to have the energy to tease the pair. He leaves them wanting more, for obvious reasons. There is something so satisfying about having to people who love and trust you, begging for anything you give them. Carlos loves this feeling; addicted to it like a drug.

The climate they are racing in is warm enough that Carlos can comfortably have the female wear a dress that barely brushes the tops of her thighs. It's skimpy, and he loves it. He loves the attention she's getting and how people are gawking at her. There is a primal satisfaction deep down because he knows full well she's his.

On the other hand, he had to wrestle Lando's hoodie away from him. The risk of overheating left Carlos is a predicament. The result being a grumpy Brit who wants to die of a heat stroke but complied regardless.

He manages through qualifying fine. Knowing he's going to find his girl in the garage waiting for him. Carlos gets through media with a PR approved smile. Still eyeing Lando and the fact that he is back in his sweatshirt.

Carlos edges him for hours when they get back to the hotel. His precious girl sits right at his feet, waiting patiently for direction. Eyes glazed over at simply being made to watch and wait.

Lando is sweating horrifically. Carlos left him in the sweatshirt, making him regret his earlier misdemeanors. The Brit is slobbering on the sheets, begging for some reprieve. Carlos helps him take a cold shower when he thinks Lando has learned his lesson.

He makes the podium on Sunday. He's elated, walking on cloud nine. Satisfied with his adrenaline-fueled kisses to his lovers in a back corner before he heads to do media.

It's back in the garage when Charles starts laughing at an Instagram post. It draws Carlos' attention. He looks over to see what's on the screen, only to clench his jaw in utter disbelief.

Lando, is openly flirting with Oscar. His smug look says he knows exactly what he's doing. Of everyone, it had to be Oscar. It could've been Max for all he cared. Oscar just grates on his nerves with the way he looks at Lando.

He ends up having to stay later than expected. Lando had said he was heading back to the hotel to order dinner for them since he was done. Maybe try to make amends for his earlier stunt.

Carlos takes his girl with him. He watches her shudder as he praises her for being all weekend. Not like he expected anything different. Carlos broke her a long time ago. He's still breaking Lando.

He keys the room open, expecting to see food on the table and Lando sitting patiently. What he hears instead is Lando moaning. The sheets shifted around underneath his writhing body.

Carlos just stands and watches for a minute. Lando is clearly aware he's is but making no attempt to stop. The sounds he's letting out are exaggerated and whiny. Terribly desperate for something Carlos won't give him.

"Mmm - Oscah..."

And Carlos snaps. Any semblance of self-restraint disappears. The stoic facade he was trying to keep dissolves into a fiery anger. Red hot and boiling in his stomach.

Carlos storms over to Lando and flips him without any difficulty. He pins him with one hand and undoes his belt with the other. "What a fucking brat. You can't be a slut for one second can you?"

Lando is whining underneath him. It's a pathetic noise, and Carlos soaks up every bit of it. "Desperate little thing." He wraps Lando's wrists in his bet and tightens it. The Brit lay bare and vulnerable at the mercy of Carlos' decisions.

Carlos spares a glance at the female. She has stripped her own clothes and is kneeling by the bed. He wants to drown in the sight and ravish her until neither of them can breathe. "Must you ruin my plans, Landito?"

"Just wanted to feel you."

"Yeah, you're going to feel me for weeks after I'm done with you."

Carlos motions for the girls to come to him on the bed. She crawls to him, big eyes clouded with want. "You're so perfect, amour. I'm going to reward you for being so good this weekend. Lando will watch and take notes."

Lando whines as Carlos rolls him onto his back. Rough and calloused fingers grip at Lando's hips. They tease the sensitive areas where Lando needs him most. Cock achingly hard and dripping.

"Stay put and I might let you cum tonight."

Carlos moves closer to the angelic female, looking at him like he is the only thing in the world. He strips off his own clothes and pulls her body closer to his. The skin on skin alone has her eyes rolling back.

He pushes her head lower. Her mouth opens to receive his cock with no hesitation. She wraps her lips around him with such skill that Carlos can only get lost in it. Hand buried in her hair if only to worship her. There is no need to guide or hold as he bucks his hips up and hits the back of her throat.

It's impossible for him not to take advantage of her mouth. It is harder to stay away from the edge of ecstasy. But he manages, he pulls her off him and slams his lips onto hers.

His fingers slips into her cunt with ease. Wet from the weekend of waiting. The anticipation of feeling him finally comes to fruition.

"Sir, please - I need you." The brg falls from her lips like it's her first language. All she knows is him; drowning in the way his fingers rub against her g-spot. "Need to be filled by you."

Carlos can't deny the girl anything. He burries himself in her. Eye's burning holes into Lando's as he snaps his hips at a relentless pace. "How does it feel knowing this could've been you?"

Lando whines and pouts, hips bucking towards the spainard to find the friction he needs. Carlos grants him nothing but a handprint on his ass. Tears spring into his eyes at the sting. It grants Carlos a sick kind of satisfaction.

His girl pants his name. Her tongue sticks out of her mouth in search of him. The only satisfaction she gains is from being good for Carlos.

He feels her tighten around him, alerting him that she's on the edge. "Wait for me, I'm almost there." He whispers against her skin. She scratches at his back as he picks up the pace. Her own way of claiming him, it sends Carlos' head spinning.

She's begging for it but waiting so patiently. The control he has over her is intoxicating. He could keep her like this forever, but she's been good and deserves a reward.

"Cum for me, you've been so good princessa." She tightens around him, walls refusing to let up. Her body jolts in the pleasurable waves of dopamine and serotonin.

Carlos finishes with a few sloppy thrusts, painting the inside of her white. The only thing left is their heavy breathes as they bask in the high.

Carlos praises her as he pulls out. She whines at the loss of him, so he places a hand on her hip to ensure she knows he's present while in a vulnerable headspace. It's endearing how she needs him.

"See that Lando? Do you think you can be good? Can you listen to my words like the good boy I know you are?"

Lando is sobbing. Putty in the hands of Carlos. Broken and beautiful. Just the way he should be.

Carlos takes pity on him. Places Lando in-between the girls' legs. He waits, unmoving inside of his perfect girl.

He drips lube all over his fingers and takes care in opening up the Brit, but leaves him right enough to ensure a bit if a sting still.

Lando is keening. He's trying so hard not to move; to be good for Carlos.

Carlos takes his time sinking into the Brit. Each movement sends him further into the warmth of his Carlos' perfect girl. Lando is sobbing now, begging for anything Carlos is willing to give.

Carlos finally gives in. He show the two of them to mercy. Teeth clamping onto Lando's neck to mark him and fingers pinching the girls nipples causing her to shreik.

Perfect for him.

His.

All his.

Carlos fucks them into overstimulation. He's relentless and refuses to let the moment go to waste. Not when they are sobbing in pure ecstacy.

They chant his name, and he feeds off it. He could live in this place. Only hearing them worship him for the rest of his life.

Finally, he slows. He pulls out gently and whispers words of encouragement and praise. He kisses up and down their bodies and worships them because they are completely his.

He cleans them up with gentle hands, let's them know how much he loves and adores them.

Carlos cuddles them to sleep. The feeling of their hearts beating on either side of him only sends him further into the chasm of adoration for the two.

Hearts that are beating with his in tadem.

Hearts that beat for him.

381 notes · View notes

formulas-bitch · 4 months

Text

Meant to be - mob boss Max x sainz/reader

The room was dimly lit, with the flickering light casting eerie shadows across the walls. The scent of burning candles and expensive cologne filled the air, mixing into a haunting aroma that seemed to hang like a veil between the mob boss and his guest. The two men sat across from each other at a massive, polished walnut table, their expressions carefully neutral as they waited for the other to make the first move. This was a meeting that could potentially change the course of both of their lives, and they knew it.

As the tension in the room grew, Max leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, and spoke in a low, steady voice. "So, Carlos, you understand why I've asked you here tonight." It wasn't a question, but he offered it up anyway, his piercing blue eyes boring into Carlos's brown ones. Carlos nodded slowly, trying to maintain his composure. "Yes, Max. I understand. You want to marry my sister."

"And you're not opposed to that?" Max pressed, his expression unreadable. Carlos took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "No, Max. I'm not opposed to it. But I want you to know that I will protect her with my life. If you hurt her in any way, if you make her unhappy, I will find you, and I will make you pay." His voice was low and steady, but there was an undercurrent of menace that could not be ignored.

The mob boss nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I understand, Carlos. Your sister is very important to you. She's important to me too. I want to make her happy, to give her a life filled with love and luxury. A life she deserves." Max leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "But I also need to know that you trust me. That you believe I can provide that life for her. and it will bring our two families together"

Carlos studied the mob boss's face for a moment, searching for any hint of deceit. But there was none to be found. Max's expression was open, honest, and filled with a genuine desire to make his future wife happy. Slowly, Carlos nodded. "I do trust you, Max. And I believe that you can give her that life. A life filled with love and protection, just like our parents did." He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And who knows? Maybe our two families will find a way to be together, not just through marriage, but as friends too."

There was a brief moment of silence as the two men contemplated the weight of their words. Then, Max reached out, clasping Carlos's hand in a firm grip. "Thank you, Carlos. I appreciate your trust, and I won't let you down. I promise to make your sister the happiest woman in the world."

The tension began to ease, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and understanding. They spoke for several more hours, discussing their families, their hopes for the future, and the challenges that lay ahead. The candlelight flickered softly, casting dancing shadows across their faces as they shared stories and laughter.

As the night wore on, Max excused himself to make a phone call. When he returned, he was carrying a small, velvet box. He placed it on the table in front of Carlos, and a look of pride and anticipation spread across his face. "Carlos, I wanted to give your sister something special. Something that symbolized not only our commitment to each other, but also to the future that we're building together."

Carlos opened the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring. It was exquisitely crafted, sparkling in the dim light, and Carlos couldn't help but gasp in awe. "It's beautiful, Max. She's going to love it." He held the ring up, admiring the craftsmanship before slipping it onto his own finger. The two men shared a brief moment of silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the significance of the ring and the promises it represented.

As the evening drew to a close, Max stood up, offering his hand to Carlos. "Thank you, my friend. I appreciate your understanding and support. Together, I truly believe we can build a future that our families will be proud of." Carlos took Max's hand, their grip firm and confident. "I'm honored to stand by your side, Max. And I promise to do everything in my power to make sure our families prosper and grow."

The two men exchanged a final, knowing glance before they parted ways. Max walked out into the cool night air, his shoulders back and his chest puffed out with pride. He knew that the meeting with Carlos had gone better than he could have hoped for. Now, all he had to do was wait for the right moment to propose to Gabriela .

In the meantime, he would continue to focus on his work, ensuring that the criminal empire he had built continued to thrive. He had a team of trusted advisors and lieutenants who helped him run things day-to-day, but he remained the undisputed leader, the one they all looked to for guidance and direction. His word was law, and he took his responsibilities seriously.

Max's thoughts often drifted to Gabriela, wondering what she was doing, if she was happy, and if she had given any more thought to their future together. He couldn't help but feel a sense of possessiveness whenever he thought about her, knowing that he wanted her all to himself. He knew that their marriage would be a complicated one, with their families' pasts hanging over them like a cloud, but he was determined to make it work. He wanted them to have the life that they deserved, filled with love and luxury, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.

In the midst of his planning and preparation, Max received word that one of their rival gangs was making a move on their territory. He knew he had to handle the situation delicately, as any misstep could lead to all-out war. He called a meeting with his most trusted lieutenants, a group of men who had been with him since the beginning. They discussed strategy and tactics, debating the best course of action. Max listened intently, taking each of their opinions into consideration before making his final decision.

As they planned their counterattack, Max couldn't help but think about Gabriela. He longed to share this news with her, to see the look of admiration in her eyes as he discussed his leadership and strategic thinking. He imagined her telling him how proud she was to stand by his side, how much she loved him and believed in him. The thought of marrying her and starting a family together filled him with a sense of purpose and joy that he had never experienced before.

The meeting concluded with a plan of action, and Max left feeling confident that they would emerge victorious. He couldn't wait to share the news with Gabriela and ask for her support and counsel. He knew that together, they would make a formidable team, able to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld and build a life of love, luxury, and security for themselves and their families.

As he drove home late at night, Max's thoughts once again drifted to the engagement ring and the moment he would propose to Gabriela. He knew that he wanted to do it in a way that was both romantic and memorable, something that would show her just how deeply he felt for her. He considered taking her on a private jet to a secluded island, where he would have a team of chefs prepare a gourmet meal and a string quartet play their favorite songs. But as he pulled into his driveway, he decided against it. He wanted something more intimate, something that felt special just for the two of them.

The next morning, Max woke up early, anxious to see Gabriela. He had arranged for a private chef to prepare breakfast in bed for the two of them, complete with freshly squeezed orange juice and his favorite croissants. As he waited for her to emerge from the bedroom, he couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline, his heart racing with anticipation. When she finally appeared, wearing one of his favorite dresses that showed off her curves, he knew that this was the moment.

With a deep breath, Max got down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring from his pocket. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and devotion, and asked her the question that had been burning in his heart for months. "Gabriela, from the moment I first saw you, I knew that you were someone special. You're beautiful, smart, and strong. You've been by my side through everything, and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love and appreciate you. Will you marry me?"

Tears welled up in Gabriela's eyes as she looked down at Max, her heart racing with emotion. She felt an overwhelming sense of happiness and love wash over her as she gazed into his sincere eyes. "Max," she whispered, "of course I'll marry you." She reached out and took his hand, gently sliding the ring onto her finger. The sparkle of the diamond in the morning light was a testament to the bright future that lay ahead of them.

They stayed like that for a moment, holding hands and soaking in the happiness that filled the room. Max couldn't help but feel grateful for this woman who had come into his life and given him a reason to believe in love again. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, his heart swelling with love and devotion. As they continued to embrace, Max felt a pang of guilt as he thought about the rival gang and the challenges that lay ahead. But for now, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in Gabriela's arms and forget about everything else.

Gabriela smiled up at him, her green eyes sparkling with love. "I've been thinking," she said, her voice soft and sultry. "I've always dreamed of having a wedding that was as extravagant as your lifestyle. What do you say? We could have it at one of your private estates, with a guest list that rivals the Forbes list. We could hire the best chefs, designers, musicians… anything you desire. It would be our dream wedding, just like you deserve."

Max's heart skipped a beat at the thought of sharing such a moment with her. "That sounds perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life making you happy, and showing you just how much you mean to me."

As they lay there together, lost in their own little world, Max couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. He knew that with Gabriela by his side, they could overcome any obstacle, and that together, they would continue to build their empire and live a life of luxury and love.

252 notes · View notes

lam-ila · 17 days

Text

Sharpest Tool || Carlos Sainz

Summary: Inspired by Sharpest Tool by Sabrina Carpenter.

Word Count: 1,587

Warnings: a few swears and an argument between reader and Carlos (please let me know if you find any more that i should add)

F1 Masterlist

a/n: thank you mel for helping me figure out the ending to this! i had two options and i very much like the one she chose better (which is the one that's in this fic haha)

this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

You and Carlos were… well you didn’t know. You acted like a couple, you did things like a couple, but you weren’t. You met the whole F1 family, meeting Lando, Charles, and even little Leo Leclerc. You went to a few F1 races in the 2024 season so far, the highlight being the Australian Grand Prix.

The race was just perfect for you and Carlos, and the post-race events were also just perfect. People assumed you were a couple, you felt like a couple, until media day of the Japanese Grand Prix when Carlos stopped texting you.

You two continued like that; sometimes you acted like a couple, you went to his races, then he stopped texting you. You constantly second guessed yourself and your romantic moments with Carlos, but you found yourself going back to himself every time.

You were in one of those times where you and Carlos weren’t talking to each other. You went to the Belgian Grand Prix, then summer break arrived and you hadn’t heard a peep from him. He was all you could think about, even while you sat at your desk at work on a random Tuesday.

Standing up to go on your lunch break, you grabbed your phone and tapped on the screen to check your notifications. You were about to put your phone in your back pocket when your eyes got caught on a text from Carlos.

You rolled your eyes at the soft ‘hey’ he sent, then noticed another text from him asking you if you wanted to go to one of his upcoming races. You quietly scoffed and shoved your phone in your back pocket, walking away from your desk to go on your lunch break.

You were furious. Carlos ignored you for a week and then casually asks you to go to his race? You weren’t sure how to respond. Just ignore him back? Text something snippy? Block him? Answer and say yes?

No. You couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t do that. You told yourself you wouldn’t agree to spending more time with Carlos if he asked again. But you wanted to so badly. You craved his touch, his kisses, his romantic gestures, but you knew it would only end in heartbreak, just like it always did.

You busied yourself with your work for the rest of the day, completely engulfing your mind into it to only thinking about it. You hadn’t thought about the texts that were sent to you by Carlos until later that day when you returned home from work. You crashed onto your couch after changing out of your work clothes and as you were about to open a text from one of your friends, your eyes glanced down at the still unopened texts from him.

You stared at it for a few minutes, contemplating everything about those texts and how you should respond, or even if you should respond.

You know what? Fuck it. You only live once, right?

You opened the texts, immediately bringing up the keyboard and typing ‘i’d love to! i’ll let my work know so i can get a few days off’. You quickly pressed send and turned the screen off before you could give yourself a chance to back out and delete the text. You squeezed your eyes shut, the small amount of time before receiving a text back feeling like hours. Your eyes opened once you felt your phone vibrate due to Carlos’ text that read ‘great! let me know when you find out cariño’.

—————

You managed to get a few days off of work and Carlos flew you out for the Dutch Grand Prix. He greeted you as you got off the plane with his signature smile and you couldn't help but smile back. You felt like an idiot smiling at his stupid smile and admiring his stupid hair and running into his stupid arms for a hug as he kissed you on the top of your head with his stupid lips. His lips travelled down, pressing a kiss against your forehead, then one against your cheek, then you angled your head to press your own lips against his.

And then there was his stupid voice. Once you parted, with your nose nuzzled against his, Carlos mumbled a low "I missed you, cariño." You leaned forward to capture his lips in another kiss, humming into the kiss in agreement.

The rest of that day was euphoric; you and Carlos spent the entire time in his hotel room and ordered room service, watched tv, cuddled, and soaked the presence of each other in. You woke up the next day limbs tangled with Carlos' and light peaking through the curtains. You both groggily got up after a few minutes of laying in bed together, simultaneously getting ready for media day and taking a few seconds out of your routines every now and then to press your lips together in short, but passionate kisses.

You went through media day acting like a couple, just as you had many times before, but at the end of the day when you entered Carlos' hotel room for the night, you broke. You couldn't act like everything was okay anymore.

"What are we?" You asked Carlos the minute after you took your shoes off upon entering the hotel room.

"What do you mean?" Carlos rebutted, stepping closer to you to meet you in a kiss. Knowing what he was about to do, you placed your hand flat against his chest, stopping him in his tracks about one step away from you.

"This isn't normal, Carlos." You kept eye contact with him, trying to portray your sincerity in your words. He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. "You're lying to yourself if you think we're fine. You know you are." Carlos took your hand off of his chest, holding it in between the both of you and despite how much you knew you shouldn't let him hold it, you let him do so.

"Cariño, you confuse me." You abruptly pulled your hand out of his at his words, take a step back from his to increase the distance between the two of you.

"That's just it!” You started to pace around the area in between the door and the bed you shared with Carlos the night before. “You're either blissfully ignorant or you actually don't realize anything's wrong because we never talk about it!"

“Cariño-”

“Stop calling me that!” You abruptly turned on your heel to pointedly look at Carlos. He looked at you, mouth slightly parted in shock, as you stood in front of him, breathing heavily.

"Okay," Carlos cautiously began, not wanting to provoke you even more. "I'll stop calling you that. But I thought you liked when I called you that?"

"I did. But fuck, I'm such an idiot because this has all just been casual for you, right?" You continued before Carlos could answer your question. "Just a casual little on again off again fling. But this has been everything to me. My life has revolved around you. I've used up so many of my vacation days to be at your races. I've cried myself to sleep because of the multiple times you stopped talking to me. I've never been happier while knowing you, but I've also never been in a worse state of mind while knowing you."

You stopped after spewing out your little monologue, waiting for Carlos to respond. You stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other in shock.

"I'm done." You stated after Carlos didn't say anything. "I'm done with all of this, whatever this even was." You started to collect your belongings from around the hotel room, refusing to look at Carlos because you knew you'd fall back into his arms if you looked at him.

"Let me at least get you on a flight home." Carlos finally spoke up.

"Fine."

"And text me when you get home. Please. I need to know that you get home safe." He pleaded, eyes not wavering from you hurriedly moving across the room.

"Why?" You stopped in your tracks, still facing away from him.

Because I really do love you.

"You're not going to like the answer."

"Fair enough." You shrugged, leaning down to pick up your bag and shoving your belongings into it. "I'll be waiting in the lobby until you find a flight for me." Walking past Carlos towards the door without sparing another glance at him, you put on your shoes and hovered your hand above the door nob, giving him one last chance to say something.

"Go." Carlos softly lamented. "I'll text you the information once I book one for you. You won't even have to see me."

You left the room without saying another word, slowly and quietly closing the door behind you to avoid anyone in the neighbouring rooms from hearing a loud slam.

Instead of immediately starting to find a flight for you, Carlos sank down into the desk chair that sat next to the bed. His head fell into his hands as he mentally beat himself up. How did he screw up this bad? How did he lose you?

He glanced towards the closed door, debating whether or not he should run down to the lobby to beg for you back. But he didn't, despite how much he wanted to. He couldn't do that to you after everything he put you through.

Maybe he'd earn your forgiveness one day.

——————————

F1 Taglist: @2manytabsopen @matthewkniesys @fallinallincurls @c-losur3 @sof1shticated

join my taglist here!

#maleeha writes #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz fanfiction #Spotify

129 notes · View notes

monzabee · 1 year

Text

you'll change your name or change your mind - cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you find your way back home, even if the journey takes longer than you think.

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bianchi!reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: mentions of jules and his accident, ANGST, talks about college acceptances in the US but it’s not accurate because i’ve never applied for US schools, mentions of alcohol and underage drinking/clubbing (only in the US though), mentions of a fake id, mentions of cheating, fighting, charles being stupid and not realising it, talks about processing grief, GRIEF, survivor’s guilt, talks of therapy, friends to lovers y’all.

Request: “The Charles fanfic was so good!! Can you write more angsty but happy needing Charles? I think it’s be cute for a man who loves Monaco so much to got to wherever his girlfriend lives Ike London or nyc often and deal with that. Maybe she hates monaco lol” + “if your requests are still open, max or charles + “you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” thanks!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i decided to give into the whole angst thing and i can honestly say that i’m having a great time. i wanted to include Jules somehow in this one because i’ve been seeing some edits on tiktok and let me tell you proofreading was a bitch because i kept crying. also, my spotify kept bringing up lorde and hannah montana songs, so there you go. this was definitely a hard one to write and i know it’s messy, but all feedback is appreciated. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Monaco is full of memories. It’s filled with memories of your childhood, your parents picking up you and your siblings from school in Nice, and getting the train to Monaco for your brother to compete in karting races. It’s filled with laughter, and ice cream, and friends. It’s also filled with fears, loss and uncertainty, and you suppose that’s why you didn’t ever want to go back. But you find your back there every time, even if it is only for a couple of days at a time. Although it reminds you of the bad times, it’s hard to erase the good ones completely.

Charles is just one of the people Jules brought into your life. He was right there since your birth – apparently, the Leclercs were visiting your family in Nice when your mother suddenly went into labour. You will always be thankful to Pascale and Hervé for stopping Jules from choosing your middle name to be Michael Schumacher. Neither Charles, nor you will forget the type of shenanigans you got up to as little kids, there is only a year difference between the two of you after all. There’s that one time you stole Charles’ kart and tried to go down the road, in which he caught you but instead of ratting you out to Lorenzo and Jules, who were supposed to be looking after you by the way, he helped you get it down the stairs and passed you his helmet as he explained how to go about it. Neither of your brothers were impressed by your ability to go fast or Charles’ sudden interest in maybe becoming a race engineer if the whole driver thing doesn’t work out. There was also the time when the two of you, along with Arthur, snuck out from a family friend’s wedding to only get lost in a city in the South of France; Charles got so stressed that he forgot how to speak French and proceeded to ask how to get back to the venue in Italian for the rest of the night. Needless to say, the two of you are there for each other no matter what; you stayed together through heartbreaks, wins, losses, losing Jules and Hervé, funerals, weddings and much more. The majority of your time together is spent in your family’s house in Nice. Charles doesn’t mind the half-hour journey, an hour if he decides to go back but he hardly ever does. Sometimes, he manages to convince you come to Monte Carlo for the day by bribing you with promises of sunsets and ice cream, but he will always drive you back if you insist you want to go home without any complain.

The first time you bring up the topic of moving, you’re in your last year of high school; by that time, Charles is already racing in Formula One, so your time together is limited to breaks between the races. However he tries his hardest to be there for you, from talking you through breakdowns that occur after long study sessions, to looking up pre-med programmes for you to apply all over the world. You never wanted to live your entire life between Nice and Monte Carlo in the first place, so is he is more than happy to help you explore your options. Your application results arrive when he’s on break between the races, so the two of you sit on the small table in his Monaco apartment’s kitchen, the light from your laptop lighting up both of your faces as you open up the emails one by one. You’re most anxious about your application to Columbia, which is 3.462 miles away from Nice, and 3.993 from Monte Carlo. By the time you finish opening up all the emails, both of you are sitting there with a silence between you. The acceptance letter still open on your laptop is congratulating you for your offer to join Columbia’s pre-med program the following September.

“Yes,” He looks at you expectantly, “Accept it, Y/N, you shouldn’t be even thinking about it!”

“Yes?” You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that simple, Charles–”

“But it is!” He argues, a big smile on his face. You can tell he is proud of you by the look in his eyes and the way his emotions carry through his voice. “It’s your top choice of school!”

“It’s also in New York, it means that there will be an entire ocean between us!”

He shrugs. “So?”

“So?” Your eyes widen in surprise, you start staking your head a little without being aware that you are doing it. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Chérie,” Charles coos, pulling your chair by its leg to bring you closer to him and wrap a supportive arm around your body. His chest rumbles from his low laughter as he presses kisses to your hair. “We’ll be fine, look at everything we’ve been through, and we’re not even that old.”

You scoff, hitting his chest in an attempt to get away; you start furiously typing on your computer. “You are old,” you point to him with a tilt of your head, “I’m not, though.”

He rolls his eyes and turns his concentration to the tab still open on your computer, “You’re going to accept the offer, though, right?”

You end up accepting the offer. Charles and his family is there alongside yours to send you off on a plane to New York City. Both your mother and Charles’ have tears in their eyes as they say their goodbyes, with your father giving you a similar look. Being the youngest of four siblings, it must’ve been hard to send their youngest all the way across an ocean, but they let you know that you have their support in every step of the way. With Charles’ schedule for the remaining races scattered all over the world, he tells you not to force yourself and to enjoy your first months as a college student.

You surprise him in Austin, though. Arranging this surprise is definitely not the easiest, but you ask Lorenzo for his help and he is more than happy to make arrangements for you. It’s the end of Friday’s last practice session when you surprise him in the Alfa Romeo garage. He almost walks past you, to get rid of his helmet when you say his name, but once he realises it is you he quickly pulls in for a hug. “What are you doing here?” He asks you while laughing with glee.

“Heard there’s an immunology seminar in town about the effects of talking a shower and then going out without drying your hair.” You answer with all the seriousness you can muster.

“Really?” He asks in confusion, taking his helmet and balaclava off and trying to fix his sweat-soaked hair.

You hit the back of his head lightly, shaking your head in disbelief. “No! I came here to see you race, you idiot!”

He shakes head in understanding. “Oh, oh!” His eyes widen once again with recognition this time.

“Yes, oh, now come on, we’re going out.” You’re quick to add, “To dinner because airplane food sucks. We’re going out clubbing after the race, though.”

True to your word, you go clubbing after his race on Sunday, which Charles is not entertained by. He’s paranoid by the fact that you are in the club with them in the first place, which should not be happening because you’re underage. He keeps silent as you show the bouncer your id, which he knows is a fake, by the way; as he sends Lorenzo an incredulous look, his older brother’s reaction consisting off a shrug of the shoulders makes him more paranoid.

“Y/N, you should not be drinking.” He voices his concern, as you’re on your second drink of the night. “This is wrong.”

“How is this different than me drinking back at home?” You argue with your eyebrows raised. “You don’t tell me I can’t drink when we’re back home.”

“Because it is legal for you to do so there!” Charles exclaims, somehow gathering the attention of some of the clubbers nearby, but he offers them an apological smile and then turns back to you with his voice lowered. “You’re not twenty one, ergo – you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Pfft,” You shrug him off, “You’re stupid, and I’m bored. You want to dance?”

You help Charles to move into his flat in Italy when he starts racing for Ferrari. Though he still lives in Monaco full-time, he rented a small place in Maranello to stay when he’s travelling. It’s an emotional event, which has both of you sitting on the floor of his new apartment going through boxes of old photographs. He finds one of his brothers and Jules with you, standing in front of a karting ring with big smiles in all of your faces. You fingers involuntarily trace over your brother, your eyes misting when you think about the day.

“He was so young,” You whisper, having to swallow a sob which threatens to escape.

Your eyes linger on the photograph for a while, and Charles quickly understands that you were not talking about the photograph as the tears you were trying to hold back find their way onto your cheeks. “He was.” He agrees; there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what losing a family member does to a person, and he understands you in a way most people cannot.

You offer him a sad smile through your tears. “He would be so proud of you.”

“He would be also so proud of you,” He whispers right back, leaning closer to you so that he could wipe away the few stray tears. “In fact, I am pretty sure he is.”

“Stop it.” You laugh softly through your tears as you push yourself to get off the floor, and dry under your eyes with your fingers as you look across the room. “Oh my god, Charles, we have so many boxes to go through.”

He gets up after you and looks around the dusty living room as he attempts to get rid of the dust on his clothes. “We do, don’t we?” He watches as you kneel in front of an unopened box and slice through the tape with a knife, and starting to go through the items in the box. He watches you go through the items silently for a while, noticing how seriously you take the task. His eyes linger on the frown on your face for a while, the way your eyebrows scrunch in question, or how you tuck a stubborn piece of hair, which escapes from the braid in your hair, to the back of your ear. He stalks closer, gently gripping one of your wrists and pulling you to your feet. “Dance with me.” He asks – which comes off less as an ask and more of a demand, which causes you to playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Charles, the boxes–” You try to argue.

His laugh is laced with mischief. “The boxes will still be there, chérie, just one dance won’t change anything.”

You try to come with arguments in your head but all your attempts are quickly thrown out the window when you realise just how green Charles’ eyes actually are. “We don’t have any music.” You try to offer as a measly argument.

Charles raises his eyebrows as he wraps his arms around your waist after making you wrap yours around his neck. “We don’t need any music, Y/N.”

So you give up in any attempts in stopping him, as he starts to slowly sway both of your bodies from side to side. You let out a chuckle when he stars, terribly, humming to an old song you used to hear on the radio. “This is stupid.” You mumble as you keep up your pace with his movements.

“You seem to keep calling me that.” Charles recalls, making both of you laugh in recognition. “I need to tell you something important.”

“So tell me,” you encourage him, motioning him to continue.

“I met someone.” He announces, a small smile playing on his lips.

You breath get stuck for a moment, in which you remind yourself that Charles is waiting for your reaction – most likely a supportive one at that. “Wow, Charles.” You breath out and give him a smile, which you successfully manage to pass off as a supportive one, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice breaks off in the end. “I’m so happy for you.”

You’re not stupid – thinking that either of you could stay single forever is an unrealistic one. But it hurts to imagine him with another person while he looks at you like that makes a part of you crumble up into a ball on your bed and cry. And that’s just what you do when you go back to the hotel that night (because the house is still unliveable when the two of you decide you’re done for the day). You try to keep your sobs as quiet as possible because you know Charles is in the hotel room next to yours. As you’re looking out the window, watching the night sky light up with stars in Maranello that night, you tell yourself you, somehow, need to move on from your best friend.

The next time you see Charles is during Christmas time. You have a tradition – Lorenzo, Charles, Jules and you, a tradition, which Arthur joined once he was old enough. It’s a peculiar one. While it’s not uncommon for most families to watch Christmas movies during this time of the year, your choice of movie has not Christmas elements in it at all. Every Christmas, the four of you watch The Sound of Music. It’s a silly tradition which was born out of boredom and lack of movies one Christmas, but it’s a tradition you managed carried out every year.

You can still remember Lorenzo complaining because “It’s three hours of songs about whiskers and bass clef.”

While Jules gives his best friend an unamused glare, both you and Charles try to mimic the Frenchman who you idolise. “It has nuns, songs, Nazis and familial love, Lorenzo, what more could you ask for?” He shrugs as he turns his attention back on screen, “Plus, Julie Andrews is hot.”

“Why would she be hot?” You remember asking, the woman on the screen not seeming uncomfortable by the weather.

“No reason,” Jules assures you, wrapping one of his arms around you.“Watch the movie, shortcake.”

And yes, while it might be stupid to watch the same movie, which has no Christmas value at all, every year on Christmas day, it’s a reminder that you have each other even if you’re not always together. So when you sit down to watch the movie that Christmas, there is a bad feeling in your stomach when you realise Charles is not there to watch it with you. If his brothers also find it weird that he’s not there they don’t make a comment, neither do you, for that matter. You try to push it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment, telling yourself that even if this is a tradition between the four of you, it’s not the end of the world if you fail to do it. So you smile, and have fun throughout the day – when you’re watching the movie, or when you decide to hold a gingerbread house competition (Arthur wins, by the way), or when you sit down to have dinner with your families, and it makes you feel a thousand times better.

It’s late when he comes home that night, Lorenzo and Arthur have already passed out on the couch with you trying to read the anatomy textbook on your lap in the low light.

“Hi.” He greets you as he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“Hi.” You whisper back, trying not to wake up the boy sleeping next to you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was a good day.” He answers truthfully, and then motions the book resting on your knees. “Aren’t you going to go to sleep?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay here tonight.”

He doesn’t argue as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Okay, good night, chérie.”

One thing about Charles, is that he is very secretive about his relationships – to the point where he won’t introduce someone to you or his family if he doesn’t think the relationship is going somewhere. So, when he brings over Charlotte for lunch the next day, there is a buzz around the house. The lunch goes well, you think. Charlotte is sweet, and the two of you talk about many things including your universities; she’s very impressed that you want to go into the medical field and you tell her that architecture must be a pain in the ass to study and she agrees with a loud laugh.

When Pascale asks them what they did for Christmas yesterday, Charlotte leans against Charles’ arm as she answers, “Oh, nothing. We just stayed home and watched that old movie – what was it again?”

“The Sound of Music.” Charles answers, his eyes are focused on his hands, and you know this, because your eyes don’t heave his frame until Arthur forces you to carry the dishes into the kitchen.

“We’ll do them, maman,” he announces when Pascale attempts to tidy up the dishes, “Y/N will help me, won’t you?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, the voice coming off from you not matching the sunny disposition you present to the rest of the room.

You carry the dishes Arthur passes to you to the kitchen, holding your breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and you succeed, too. At least until Arthur comes after you, carrying more dishes and places them next to the other ones near the kitchen sink. You start scrubbing them with intensity, your sniffles and the sound from water whooshing around in the sink filling the room. Arthur pulls you against him as you lean your forehead to his shoulder, or where you can on his arm due to your height-difference, as you start quietly sobbing. Arthur turns the tap on as he lets you cry into his shoulder.

The two of you return to the dining room after the dishes are done, and continue the conversation as if nothing happened. After Charlotte announces that she should be on her way, you walk her to the door with everyone, the two of you exchanging numbers as she makes you promise to go shopping with her the next time you’re in Monaco. You agree with a chuckle and tell her only if she teaches you how to draw because your “Anatomy notes are seriously suffering.” After she gives Charles a kiss and leaves, Charles turns to you.

“It’s just a movie.” He says in a low voice.

“You’re allowed to have fun with your girlfriend, Charles.” You assure him and pat his shoulder for good measure. Then, you turn to Arthur, who is watching the exchange with a confused look on his face. “Want to play a round before I leave?”

“Sure,” he agrees and the two of you move into the living room to play a round of F1 on the PlayStation. He sets it up for you as you try to get comfortable on the couch, trying to get rid of the feeling of unease as Charles watches you from the other side of the couch. “Who do you want to pick?” Arthur asks you, the cursor hovering over his choice – who is of course his brother.

You stay quiet for a moment and answer him in a calm voice, “Give me Max.”

Charles scoffs from the other side and pushes himself off, his arms crossed over his chest. “Rich, Y/N, just rich.”

“What?” you ask him with faux innocence and a shrug of your shoulders.

His voice is accusatory when he snaps, “Stop being childish for a moment.”

“Oh, I’m being childish?” You ask him, getting off the couch as well.

“Yes, you’re being extremely childish right now.” He agrees, nodding his head. “Glad we at least agree on that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask again while narrowing your eyes.

He scoffs, “It’s just a stupid movie.”

“I didn’t say a fucking word about the movie, Charles.” You point out, mimicking his pose as you cross your arms over your chest. In reality, it’s a short attempt at trying to hide your shaking hands. “But it’s not a stupid movie, it’s tradition.”

“Traditions can be broken from time to time.” He argues.

“I didn’t say they couldn’t.” You shrug, trying to appear indifferent to the man in front of you.

“Maybe if you tried to stick around for more than three days at a time, you wouldn’t be so upset about these type of things.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Charles, maybe you should–” Arthur tries to stop his brother, but Charles waves him off.

“Sometimes I think ‘Did I do something?’, but then I realise that maybe the problem is not me–”

Though you’re shocked by his words, you find yourself assuring him, “It’s not, it has nothing to do with you.”

Both you and Arthur can see something snaps in him, causing him to raise his voice. “Then what is it? Tell me so I can fix it and you can stop running away!”

You shake your head, your arms which are wrapped around you becoming tighter as an attempt to provide yourself some sort of protection. “You can’t fix it, Charles.”

His arms become undone as his fists ball on either side of his body. “You don’t know that–”

“No you can’t!” You scream, somehow more tears flowing from your eyes. “You can’t bring Jules back because he’s dead, and you can’t fix me because I’m not a toy! You think I want to live this way? You think I want to go back every damn time I set foot in this city because I just hate it here? I can’t bear the thought of staying here because of the fact that my brother died while I was here and I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.” You point a finger towards him, your voice gradually becoming louder to match his. “He was dead by the time I got back to the hospital and they told me he couldn’t hold on any longer, how do you think that makes me feel every time I feel like I’ve overstayed in this city, huh?”

“You need to stop living in the past, Y/N.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see you’re letting the past hold you back?”

“‘Letting the past hold me back’ do you even hear yourself right now? I am trying my best to move on!”

“By moving across the ocean?” He asks you, “By leaving the people you love you behind?”

“You– you can do this!” You scream as you walk towards him and jab your finger against his chest. “You told me to take the offer, you told me to move away because you were so sure we’d be fine.”

“Well maybe I was wrong.” He whispers, grabbing both of your wrists to stop you from poking him and curling his arms closer to his chest.

Your eyes widen with a furious look in them, which makes him realise he sees more of Jules in them than before. “Screw you, Charles.” You struggle against his hold, hitting his chest with your fists with every word as you scream, “Screw you for trying to dictate how I process my grief, and screw you for acting so indifferent.” You win your struggle in the end, taking advantage of the fact that he is both distracted and speechless to get out of his hold and quickly grab your things.

“Where are you going?” He asks you as you’re putting your coat on.

“Anywhere but here.” You snap at him, refusing to meet his eyes.

Arthur quickly comes near you with a concerned look, “You shouldn’t be driving right now, at least let me drive you.”

You give him the warmest smile you can muster up, “I’ll be fine, ThurThur,” your eyes find Charles’ as you continue, “Don’t ever change, okay?”

After the disastrous Christmas last year, you two didn’t talk for a whole year, even though the people around you tried their hardest to bring you to talk to each other. Even Charlotte tried to trick you into spending time, claiming that she had a work emergency just as you arrived at the lunch you two scheduled to find Charles sitting there – you quickly left without being seen and spent the day walking through the marina because “Fuck Charles if he thinks you can’t spend more than three days in Monte Carlo.” He spends Christmas with Charlotte again, but unlike this year, you don’t feel sad about his absence, choosing to call it growth when reality it’s actually packing it away to deal with it another time.

The two of you eventually do make up, though, when you go to one of Arthur’s races to support him and run into Charles on the track. You talk between breaks, both of you succumbing and apologising to each other for the things you’ve said – him more than you, but you still apologise for the way you’ve acted afterwards. Arthur has a strange smile on his face when he finds you, releasing a relieved breath when you told him that you’re fine and you’re going to take baby steps.

“Good,” he smiles, “maman was about to lock you onto Charles’ yacht.”

Your therapist calls is ‘survivor’s guilt’. Yes, you have one of those now because although you want it to be false, you think a part of what Charles said might be right. She explains to you that it’s a natural response where someone has suffered a loss and you didn’t. This confuses you, though, because even if the loss in question is the death of your brother, you weren’t there to experience it with the rest of your family. Dr. Gambini is there to explain that “Although it implies experience, it doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t not feel the loss of something you didn’t get to suffer.” So, you go through the therapy experience to try to understand your own feelings, which makes you think maybe it is what you should be focusing on in the first place. It’s an overwhelming feeling, understanding things about yourself which you didn’t before – the things you used to feel slowly gain meaning as you go about it. You’re proud of yourself when you talk about it to your parents, and they tell you that they are proud of you for giving it a go. Charles joins you in one of your sessions – it’s Charlotte’s idea, actually. He tries to understand why, and how he can help you – he leaves the session feeling proud of you for taking care of yourself.

A few months later, you get a phone call from him when you’re in the middle of the week when you are studying, while all of your friends are away for spring break. His voice is thick with tears as he tells you that it’s over between him and Charlotte, but refuses to give you a reason when you ask why. It leaves you confused in New York, but when he asks you if you can come home for the weekend, you don’t hesitate to book a ticket for the next flight out. He’s shocked to find you standing in front of his door, but pulls you in for a hug anyway. Neither of you care about the duffel bag that hits the floor at your feet, even when you’re stumbling over it to get to him. You don’t talk, but hold each other throughout the night. He offers to cook for you, but you decide that ordering pizza is a better solution than trying to each what Charles attempts to cook. So, you end up deciding on pizza and a movie.

You look at him confused when you realise which movie he’s selected, “It’s not Christmas, Charles.”

He sits down on the couch, and pulls you under his arm as he reaches for the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. There’s a nostalgic smile on his face which you cannot understand. “I owe you two screenings of this movie, Y/N. Now eat your pizza and watch it.”

So, the two of you watch the movie in silence – with silently laughing in relevant scenes and Charles even attempting to sing the Lonely Goatherd, which leaves you in tears because of how much you’re laughing. At the end of the night he walks you to the guest room in his apartment and pulls you for one last hug, whispering, “Thank you for coming,” into your hair.

“Of course, Charles.” You whisper, turning your head and softly pressing a kiss to his shirt-covered chest. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.

He’s in the kitchen when you wake up in the morning, focusing so intently on something on his phone to notice you. You ruffle his hair as you make your way through the kitchen to make some breakfast for the two of you. “Good morning to you too, you grump.” You tell him, when you finish getting out the ingredients for the breakfast you have in mind.

“Morning, chérie.” He answers, in a non-committal voice.

“And to think I was going to make you pancakes.” You sigh as you halt the movement of your hands and lean against the counter.

A playful smile is on your lips when Charles excitedly raises his head. “Pancakes?” He asks in a soft voice.

“I was going to add chocolate chips, too, but you didn’t say good morning to me and now I don’t think I’m in mood to be honest with you.” You shrug, starting to put away the bowls you took out.

He quickly comes behind the counter to tickle some sense in you, and you use the bowl in your hands as a shield as you start laughing. He gives up after a while, pressing a kiss to your temple and fixing some of your hair which fell out of place during the ‘fighting’. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Wow, you actually want to help me cook for a change?” You coo, ruffling his hair again and hitting his hip with yours to get him out of your way. “Go wait on the other side, you grumpy baby.” He complies to your directions to sit on the other side of the island, but doesn’t bother with his phone this time. You make a motion towards his phone on the island with your head as you crack the eggs into the bowl. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just some problem with the car.” He answers. “I might need to go to Maranello for a day or two. When is your flight back to New York?”

“Oh– I can change it if you know the date–” You start to say, but he quickly cuts you off.

“What? No, I don’t want you to go back.” He quickly says, shaking his head. “I just thought you might want to come with me rather than stay here.”

“Oh,” You say, looking around. “It’s not a problem, I can stay and study.”

There is a confused look on his face. “Stay? Here?” He asks over and over again. “Here? Stay? Alone?”

“Yes, Charles, I can manage to stay by myself.” You sigh. “I did it last summer for a month, you can trust me, alright?”

“You were in Monte Carlo for a month, last summer? How did I not catch you at all?”

You let out another sigh, “In case you don’t realise, I’m very good at avoiding you.” You continue when he gives you yet another confused look as you start mixing the batter. “Charlotte told me to meet her at a restaurant but it was a set up for me to meet with you, so I got in the car and drove away. It was probably the closest we got to each other.”

“Wow.” He looks at you with wide eyes. “Just, wow.”

You roll your eyes and glare at him. “Stop looking at me like that. My classes are all online this semester and Dr. Gambini thinks it’s good for me to spend more time here; it’s supposed to help me get closure, or something.”

He gives you a big smile. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, his smile quickly mirroring on your own lips.

“Yeah.” He breathes out. “And you can stay here all you want! And cook me breakfast, you know.”

You let out a laugh this time. “I can get my own place, Charles.”

“But then who will cook me breakfast?” He asks with a small pout.

“You are a child, Perceval.” You laugh at the way he looks at you, with his elbows bent over the counter and his upper body leaning over the stove. “I’m only cooking you breakfast; you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me after this.” You joke.

You turn around to look in the cupboard for the chocolate chips as you hear him mumble, “Too late.”

You almost hit your head at the open cupboard door when you turn right back to look at him. “What?” You walk towards the island as you mumble out, “No, no, no, no, don’t say that. You just broke up with your girlfriend, Charles.”

“We broke up almost five months ago.” He announces, no hint of joking in his voice. “Right before the Abu Dhabi race.”

“That’s not true.” You say, shaking your head. “I spoke to Charlotte; she told me everything was fine.”

He shrugs, then offers you an explanation. “We announced it a couple of months later, but we’ve been broken up for a while.”

“But then why did you call me a couple of days ago to tell me it was over?” You ask him, visibly confused.

He looks guilty as he admits. “I– I don’t have a good answer for that.” He stalks over to the other side of the island again to trap you between himself and the marble in an attempt to prevent you from evading. “All I can say is that I love you.”

“Oh, wow.” You say, suddenly you can find the right choice for words. “Say that again for me?”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“Now in French?”

“Je t'aime.”

“In Italian?”

“Ti amo.” He laughs this time, leaning down towards you to bring his face towards yours. “You done?” You nod your head with a giggle escaping past your lips. “This would be a perfect time to say something, you know.”

“Oh, right.” You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

“What?” He asks in horror.

“Yeah, thank you. You know, for the–”

“Chérie!” He exclaims with his eyes wide.

You continue your giggles as you place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards you, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you too, chez moi,” my home/place. The pancakes are long-forgotten when you pres your lips on his to give him a kiss, somewhere in the universe your twelve year-old is high-fiving with herself, but you are happy to be finally home.

#monzabee #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst

2K notes · View notes

imthebadguyyy · 1 year

Text

Every Thing Has Changed

pairing : carlos sainz x reader

fandom : f1

synopsis : healing from a relationship in which you never felt loved is made easier when your a certain ferrari drive feels like home and changes your perception on love.

warnings : just some making out, mentions of a past abusive relationship, crying, angst, nightmare

a/n : just a short blurb inspired by photograph by Ed Sheeran and everything has changed by Taylor Swift💕

relationships, once resembling the sweet symphony of love can turn to play a dissonant melody, much like a wilting rose, its vibrant petals fading to a melancholic shade of gray. the once-gentle winds of understanding transformed into bitter gales of miscommunication, tearing at the fragile bonds once woven. love, once a warm and comforting embrace, can feel like a jagged, icy terrain, each step a painful reminder of the shards of trust shattered.

thats what your relationship with love had been, stuck a in a relationship with a man who did not appreciate you and found himself raising his hand at you in frustration or tear into your soul with ice cold words that threatened to shatter your soul.

it had left you vulnerable and untrusting, unwilling to open up to a relationship ever again.

until a certain ferrari driver came along.

carlos sainz.

maybe it was the way he had looked at you across the ramp at the Milan fashion show ferrari had made him attend, surrounded by other celebrities he was uncomfortable around.

your label had made you attend to show your fans you were fine post the 'termination' of your old relationship.

your eyes had met his dark brown ones, a gentle sparkle in them, and he found his lingering on yours, taking in the sight of you in all your gorgeousness across the room.

he had come up to you after, shook your hand and introduced himself.

the thick accent had you blushing, and the sight of this greek god like man dressed in a black tuxedo with the most perfectly mussed up hair had your heart doing a little tango in your chest.

he was charming and sweet, offering you champagne at the after party and telling you about his career and passion for formula 1. he had also admitted to being a fan of your music, to which you had giggled, and he had smiled.

as the party wore on, you stuck to him, finding him to be the only sincere person in the ballroom full of fake smiles, the only person who brought genuine smiles and laughter to you.

within a few hours it felt like chatting to an old friend.

you ended the night with his phone number logged in your phone, and yours in his, and a mutual follow on both your ends on Instagram.

two days later, he sent you a video of himself at the track, with charles singing Adele in the background,with the caption 'wish i could have your voice serenading me before I step into the car instead of his'

you found yourself smiling, shaking your head at his antics, but also blushing at his lopsided smile.

but something in your brain made you stop, hesitate to reply.

the scars from the past were still fresh, and the memory of heartache loomed large. the prospect of opening your heart once more, or even flirting, felt like stepping onto shaky ground.

you found yourself replying with a simple smile emoji and a promise to send him whatever new song you'd be working on soon.

days sped by, with little texts shared and likes dropped on each other's posts.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

your friends asked you persistently about the nature of your relationship with the spaniard, to which you said "he's just a friend I made recently"

when you came to barcelona to record your album, you dropped him a text, to which he asked you to a simple dinner at his favourite restaurant.

even though your heart hammered against your chest and your brain screamed no, you accepted, trying to ignore the slight alarm in your body.

and the dinner was perfect.

carlos was nothing short of a gentleman, pulling your chair out for you, complimenting the way you looked, and your music and taking genuine interest in what you had to say.

carlos found himself utterly infatuated with your beauty, inside and out, and he swore every time you giggled his heart fluttered like a butterfly.

he loved the nervous way you pushed your hair back behind your ears when you got shy, or the intense concentration as you picked your pasta, which was a butternut squash ravioli, which you told him, was your favourite.

he loved how you got so intense when telling a story, and how your hands moved animatedly as you told him a funny story about your night at the Grammy's.

he couldn't help but laugh as you told your story, and he couldn't help the slight flush to his cheeks when you said, "you look handsome tonight" with a sweet smile.

"thank you bella" he said, the nickname dripping off his lips like the sweetest honey, sending a homely warmth through your body.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't arrested to the handsome spaniard in front of you.

he had worn a turquoise blue shirt, the first few buttons undone, and pristine white pants that looked absolutely phenomenal on his gorgeously tanned skin, the Spanish sun clearly doing wonders for him.

he looked like an angel descended from the heavens, his hair falling imperfectly perfectly across his forehead, and his lips looked so delectably plump and pink that you couldn't help your eyes fluttering down to them multiple times throughout dinner.

you loved the way his accent laid heavy, as he talked to you about the atmosphere at monza. you loved the passion in his eyes and his voice as he spoke about how much he adored his job, and how deeply he cared about ferrari.

you loved the way his eyes furrowed in concentration, as he listened intently to the story you were telling him, and the sincerity in his dark eyes, the rich and velvety brown eyes radiating warmth.

you couldn't help the way your heart beat quickened, when he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, when you walked into the restaurant.

neither of you could deny the unspoken electric connection that you shared, zinging through the both of you like a bolt of lightning.

when you got out from the restaurant, he offered to drive you back to your hotel, the red ferrari purred through the streets as you both listened to the soft enrique iglesias songs playing on loop on the radio.

you continued sharing stories, as you made your way though the streets of barcelona, and by the time you reached your hotel, you found yourself unwilling to say goodbye to the handsome man beside you.

"so...this is me" you smiled, and he chuckled.

"I'm aware" he smiled back, and you giggled, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

"thank you for tonight carlos. i really enjoyed myself" you told him sincerely, leaning over to squeeze his hands softly.

"you're welcome carino, I enjoyed myself too" he said, running a thumb over your knuckles.

for a moment, the urge to just grab him by his stupidly handsome face and kiss him zapped through your body, but fear stopped you.

you weren't ready for that.

you couldn't do that.

not all over again.

and yes while he had proved to be different, how could you know for sure that things wouldn't turn sour?

"i think I'll get going" you whispered, voice not strong enough to maintain its regular volume, and carlos nodded, a crease in his brow forming at the sudden tremble in your voice.

"sure, let me know if you'd like to hang out sometime later" he said, getting out to open the door for you.

you lingered in the dimly lit hallway for a second, not quite warning him to leave but not strong enough to tell him you liked him.

you fluttered between fear and intuition, before deciding on a middle ground : leaning up on tip toe to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

carlos found himself blushing, responding with yet another gentle. kiss to your hand, and then your forehead

"good night carino" he whispered.

"goodnight carlos" you smiled.

you watched him walk away, heart strumming against your chest.

oh, you were in for a hard time.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

carlos sighed as he looked at the list of media duties in front of him. he zoned out, sylvia's voice lulling him into a doze.

the soft ping of a text notification snapped him out of it, and he looked at is discreetly under the table.

y/n, carlos

you : thought of you when i saw this 🫶🏼

*one attachment*

looking at the message, carlos grinned.

carlos : haha. looks like I follow you wherever I go ;)

you : haha very funny carlos. how's imola going for you?

carlos : you've memorized my race schedule now? 😄

you : noo i just saw a post on Instagram

carlos : it's just media today which i hate so I'm just ready to go home already

you : i get that!! i don't like doing press either :(

carlos : yeah I'm in a meeting right now and I wish i was in my bed fast asleep

you : ....wait are you in a meeting RIGHT NOW?!?

carlos : yes

you : carlos 😭 why are you texting me then??

carlos : because I prefer it ;)

you : oh my gosh okay we'll talk later okay?

carlos : okay carino, have a good day

you : you too 💕

"carlos, can you please put your phone away?" sylvia's impatient voice broke the trance he was.

"yeah yeah" he mumbled a little grumpily, earning a short from charles and a nudge from his press officer.

but he didn't care. he'd prefer spending time with you over the press anyday.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

sighing, you scrolled through your camera roll, erasing any trace of your past relationship. it was gone. it wasn't a part of you anymore.

every deleted picture felt like a weight being lifted off your mind and your chest and tears filled your eyes.

the sheer relief that came with the alleviated pain had a gasp rising in your throat, coming out in a strangled choke.

before you knew it, you were sobbing, knees pulled up to your chest, tears running down your face, choked sobs leaving your throat, each one seemingly ripping your throat open.

you cried till your throat was raw and your body on the brink of exhaustion.

the sound of your phone ringing cut through, making you jump.

you watched as carlos' name flashed across the screen, and after taking a deep breath, you answered.

"hello?"

"buenos dias carino. como estas?" how are you he asked, his voice light and melodious, and you inhaled deeply, feeling the anxiety slowly leaving your body.

"I'm good carlos, what about you?" you replied, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.

"all good carino. just missing you" he flirted, but you didn't miss the sincerity in his voice.

you felt your heartbeat increase in pace, a flush painting your cheeks.

"i miss you too.." you mumbled, embarrassment flooding you as you realized you really did miss him.

"then why don't I fly you out to Monza? its ferrari's home race and I'd love to see you in ferrari red" he said and you giggled.

"I'd love to carlos" you said, and you heard him laugh.

"okay then carino, I'll have the jet pick you up okay? does Thursday work for you? ill pick you up after media duties?" he said, and you awwed at his concern.

"i can just go to your hotel? you don't have to pick me up" you assured him, and after much convincing, he reluctantly agreed to have caco pick you up instead.

"just ask him if his name is carlos too" he had joked, smiling to himself when you let out a hearty laugh.

with promises to see each other soon, you hung up.

you took a deep breath, wiping away the salty tears, contrasting to the sweet smile on your face.

maybe, just maybe, you could watch love begin again.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Thursday rolled around, and you flew to Monza in carlos' jet, to be received by a man with a kind face and a bouquet of flowers waiting for you.

"you must be carlos?" you asked shyly, shaking his hand.

"yes, I'm carlos' cousin, but please call me caco" he had smiled, offering to take your backpack from you.

the two of you chatted on your way to the hotel, making jokes about all the carlos' in the Sainz family.

"how do you manage to keep them all distinct?' you had asked, and he had just laughed and said, "trust me, we don't"

you found yourself enjoying the company of the older man, who was as friendly as someone could be.

as you reached the hotel, you felt nerves spring in your belly, and you bit your lip anxiously.

caco noticed, and sent you a soft smile.

"you know, carlos doesn't usually invite people over. you must be special to him if he's called you to a race" and you tried your hardest to not warm up at his words, but the bright smile on your face said it all.

"come, let me show you to your room, it's next to carlos', and then we can wait in his room for him to come back he should be here soon" caco said, doing the needful with the reception staff.

with a sigh you sunk down into the plush cushions of the sofa in carlos' room after depositing all your baggage in your own room.

you and caco continued to talk for a bit, sharing stories and laughs till the door opened, and a pair of white sneakers made their way over to you.

"hola carino" carlos' voice rang through the room, and you turned on your heel, heart fluttering in your chest as you took in the sight of him, in his red and black ferrari shirt and apparently signature white pants.

neither of you noticed caco gently slip away, not wanting to intrude in the private moment.

"hello" you smiled, waving at him nervously.

in quick strides he made his way across the room, engulfing you in a big hug.

you inhaled the musky scent he wore, reminding you of dior sauvage, and focused on the feeling of his large, coarse palms gently rubbing your back.

"i missed you, y'know?" he mumbled, drawing away and gently caressing your cheek.

"i missed you too, so much' you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm happy you're here" he murmured, gently pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ears.

"I'm happy to be here, thank you so much for having me" you smiled at him.

"anytime, corazon" heart he flirted, and you flushed again.

the two of you spent some time chatting, before jet lag overtook you, and you ended up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

carlos gently pulled your legs up and out a pillow under your neck to prevent you from getting a crick as he laid you on the sofa, penning a small note when he realized that he had to run to meet fans in the hotel.

with an odd feeling of sadness, he tucked you in, leaving you, to head down.

he remained a little distracted, not quite able to focus when he truly just wanted to spend time with you.

he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so deeply infatuated with someone, the last time someone had flooded his mind 24\7

you were so utterly perfect in so many ways, sweet and kindhearted, headstrong and independent, warm and funny, friendly and open.

but still, he felt a reluctance to be vulnerable, the walls you had put up that you refused to let him penetrate. he was also aware that you even coming to had been a huge step, and he could slowly work towards findings out what exactly was upsetting you.

with new found determination, he made his way back to the room.

upstairs, you were still fast asleep, and as he walked in he noticed the agitation on your face, the beads of sweat dripping down your forehead and the whimpers leaving your lips.

he rushed over to you, fingers gently shaking your tense shoulders, heart breaking at the whimpers escaping your lips, little murmurs of “please don’t hurt me..” leaving your lips, making his heart shatter.

still in a haze, you frowned, watching as the dark shaped got closer and close to you, you tried to run, but you were frozen in place, a scream rising to your throat only to stick, mouth open without making a single sound. the dark figure got closer and closer, ominous giggles leaving their mouth as they approached you, faceless, but for an evil smirk on their lips.

the figure reached out and touched your face, cold and clammy, and you felt a chill run down your spine.

"im going to hurt you," the figure whispered. you tried to speak, but no words would come out. you were trapped, helpless.

the figure leaned in closer, and you could feel its hot breath on your neck. It reached out and touched your throat.

you closed your eyes and waiting for the impact.

but then, you heard a familiar voice, sounding almost dreamlike and distant, like a guardian angel descending from the heavens to refuse you.

"wake up, carino! it’s just a dream. I’m here, estas a salvo” you're safe Carlos’ voice broke through and you awoke with a gasp.

carlos took in the sight of the tears dripping down your cheek, and the pants leaving your mouth, and he swore he felt his heart shatter.

"stay away" you whispered, bringing your knees to your chest to shield yourself.

"wh-what?" he mumbled, surprised.

"i said stay away!! don't touch me" you shouted, voice quivering with fear.

the storm of emotion in carlos' eyes sent self pity surging through your heart.

"oh, cariño mío, nunca, nunca, nunca te haría daño, te lo prometo." oh my darling, i would never ever ever hurt you,i promise he whispered, but still, he took a step back. he did not want to cross any boundaries.

"don't lie to me" you whimpered, shoulders shaking and chest rising and falling rapidly. you were still dazed, not quite processing that it was carlos in front of you, not your ex, and that he was the last person to raise a hand on you.

"im not lying, mi duce" he said sincerely, gently reaching his hand out to you.

"no! thats what he said too" you sobbed out, knees giving out as you fell to your knees on the ground, face buried in your hands as you sobbed.

carlos decided that space wasn't the answer. with steps as light as a feather, he was beside you in an instant, gingerly reaching out to stroke your hair.

surprisingly, you didn't push him away, but you did flinch, and the sight made Carlos's heart break further.

"oh, oh, cariño mío... siento mucho, mucho que eso te haya sucedido..."oh, oh my darling, I'm so so sorry that ever happened to you, he whispered, gently rubbing your arm, the warmth of his hands helping the shivers taking over your body.

"I'm sorry" you sobbed, embarrassment, guilt and shame coursing through your veins.

"no, why are you sorry? you haven't done anything wrong" he stated firmly, gently letting you lean into him, sniffling into his shirt.

he didn't care about the mess on his shirt. he didn't care about the fact that he was late for a press meeting. all he cared about was making sure that your were okay.

"i shouldn't have been so stupid, so stupid that someone had to hit me to make me see sense" you continued, mind so drowsy and scared you didn't even know what you were saying.

"you're not stupid, amor, i promise youre not. i am so sorry that happened to you but please, mi dulce, don't ever demean yourself. eres más valiosa para mí que el sol, la luna y las estrellas, y juro que hay millones de personas que piensan lo mismo. no puedo deshacer lo que tu ex ha hecho, pero haré todo lo posible para tratarte mejor y hacerte sentir amada de nuevo, si me das una oportunidad, mi cariño. significas el mundo para mí y pasaré cada día de mi vida demostrándotelo si es necesario." he said,You are worth more to me than the sun moon and stars and i swear there are millions of people who think so too. I cannot undo what your ex has done, but I can try my damn hardest to treat you better and make you feel loved again, if you will give me a chance, my darling. You mean the world to me and I'll spend every day of my life proving that to you if i have to", gently lifting your chin so he could look into your red eyes.

"I'm not worth it carlos.. you deserve someone who isn't a mess, who isn't wrecked, who isn't a useless, used thing, like me.." you started but you were cut off by carlos pulling you into a tight hug.

inhaling deeply, you let yourself sink into his embrace, clutching the material of his shirt as if you were scared he would disappear into thin air.

"you are everything to me" he murmured, and you looked up at him, gaze flicking from his sincere eyes, the worry lines on his forehead to his perfectly plump lips.

and in that moment you made a decision.

"kiss me" you whispered, hand reaching out to stroke his stubble.

"there's nothing I want more, carino, but..are you sure? no quiero que te arrepientas de esto más tarde." i don't want you to regret this later he said, and you smiled.

"nunca he estado más seguro de nada más."I've never been more sure of anything else you replied, gently pulling him down to meet your lips.

you closed the space between the two of you, pressing your body against his as your hands found home on his face and waist, his in your cheek and hips

carlos sighed softly, against your mouth hands moving to wrap around you, resting on your back as he kisses you back, with unfiltered passion.

you never thought that actually someone could actually leave you winded with just a kiss, but here was a man, something out of a story book, taking your breath away with a kiss.

"I've wanted to do that for so long" carlos mumbled against your lips, as you slowly pulled away, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your belly.

"i have too, but i was scared.." you started off, but carlos cut you off with a feather soft kiss to your forehead.

"you don't owe me any explanation, mi amor. thank you for trusting me" he whispered, and you smiled.

"just... promise me you won't hurt me?" you asked, vulnerability evident in every syllable.

carlos responded with a soft kiss to your knuckles, to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips.

"never."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

that summer, carlos took you to mallorca to meet his family.

he had brought you along, introducing you to his father, his mother, his sisters and a few cousins who had come to spend the summer.

carlos sainz sr had welcomed you with open arms, despite your initial nervousness. reyes had enveloped you in a warm hug, expressing her excitement at finally meeting the woman her son couldn't stop raving about, making the both of you blush.

his sisters, blanca and ana, had both gushed over you, making very little effort to hide how much they loved your music and how excited they were that their brother was dating you.

you were grateful at how welcoming and sweet his family was, how they treated you like one of their own, taking you sightseeing and taking you to their favourite spots, treating you to lovely lunches with the family, with reyes making you your first ever homemade gazpacho that you fell in love with.

out of everyone, you found yourself gravitating to her the most, and spent as much time with her as you could, laughing at stories she told you about carlos.

one evening she took you and her daughters out for a spa day. carlos couldn't hide the happy smile that refused to leave his lips the whole day, heart full at how well you meshed with his family.

"you look lovely dear" reyes warm tone greeted you as you made your way to the car so you could go to lunch and then a spa. she was so kind to you, even though she only met you a few days ago, she welcomed you into her family with open arms. "are you enjoying yourself, mi hija?" the nickname made you flush, as you nodded, a shy smile on your lips "don’t be shy!" she said, gently squeezing your shoulder, eyes twinkling

"mallorca is really beautiful! i really like it here" you said, a genuine smile on your lips, and reyes nodded. "thats good because I get the feeling we'll have you over much more often now", blanca added from the back seat.

she winked at you which made the four of you laugh.

"well, i hope i can visit much more often" you said, smiling at the three sainz women in front of you.

"you will, i know for a fact my brother is head over heels for you with how he looks at you like you hung the stars sun sky and the entire cosmos up" ana said sagely, making blanca snort.

"don't expose him like that, he'll kill you if he hears you told her that" her older sister chided

"I'm not wrong! he doesn't bring anyone home unless he's serious about them!" ana said indignantly, and you felt your heart flutter

"my carlito is very shy, hija, and that's why we were so happy when he told us you were dating, and even more when he said he was bringing you home" reyes said to you, a nostalgic smile on her lips as she thought back to when all her children were babies.

"you're a lovely person, y/n. i knew it the moment you walked in the door, and I know you make carlos so happy. welcome to the family unofficially, mi hija" she said softly, to voices of agreement from ana and Blanca and you felt tears rise to your eyes.

overwhelmed with emotion, all you could do was squeeze their hands and say a soft "thank you"

later that night, as you and carlos for ready for bed, he came up to you, wrapping his arms around you, pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, massaging your shoulders with lotion.

"what did you talk to my mother and sisters about mi dulce?" he asked, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone.

"thats a secret, amor" you smirked and he whined, burying his face in your neck.

"ana has been winking at me all evening and poking me in the side. what did you dooo" he whined like a child and you giggled.

"i can't tell you,but they were all so lovely" you said, climbing into bed, as carlos snuggled up to you.

"see? i told you they'd all love you. my dad told me today as well, he thinks you're a perfect match for me and he'd like to take you for a round of golf sometime" he said, running his fingers through your hair.

"I'd love that" you smiled, kissing his nose.

of course, it didn't stop there.

before you knew it, carlos' lips were on yours. you pushed him away with a giggle, knowing it wouldn't stop at one.

"please amor, just one more, I've barely seen you today" he pouted and you rolled your eyes at his antics.

“fine. just one. one more kiss and that’s—”

carlos' mouth pressed against yours in a desperate kiss, mumbling a quick ,"yes, hmm, yes," as he nudges the tip of his tongue against yours to open up, trying to get you a more passionate kiss.

you pull back with a gasp, hands against his chest, “no no no no no. you need to behave and i only said one and your entire family is here and this is more than one —" he cut you off mid way again, pressing a flurry of pecks your lips.

desperately trying to keep your thoughts straight, you begins to cave in as his teeth gently nibble at your bottom lip, pulling it away and his eyes watching as it snaps back in its place, his tongue meets yours again.

you whine, body relaxing slowly into his, hands resting on his chest and face, monetarily forgetting the fact that you were making out with him in his family home.

"ay dios mio!" caco's voice exclaims and you jump, pulling away from carlos.

"por favor, cierra la puerta si vas a involucrarte en estas actividades, hermano." he said backing out of the room.

"qué quieres, caco?" carlos yelled after him, grinning at the sight of you burying your face in the blanket, shouting out an apology to caco.

"just wanted to say good night, which I now know you'll have!" he shouted back and you gasped, pulling the sheets over your face.

you were sure ana in the next room must have heard it.

"carlos" you whine as he laughs, anas voice floating in from next door "please don't traumatise me!"

all of a sudden, he pins you down, fingers ticking your sides, relishing the sound of your laughter.

“im so in love with you, angel, te amo." he whispered.

"te amo carlos" you mumbled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

everything had changed, thankfully for the better.

and you could not be happier.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : might make it multi part or just leave it like this, please let me know which one you'd prefer!!

as always likes, reblogs comments, opinions etc are appreciated!! much love always 😘