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lxclerc · 2 years

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𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 | 𝐜𝐬𝟓𝟓

SUMMARY: where charles regrets introducing his sister to his teammate or the leclerc brothers are cockblocks WARNING: fluff, SMUT, 18+, age gap (reader is 23, carlos is 27), oral (both m and f), the leclerc siblings basically sharing one brain cell PAIRING: leclerc!sister x carlos sainz REQUEST: “can I request a Carlos Sainz smut imagine??” WORD COUNT: 3.5k

NOTE: since it’s carlos’ birthday, i thought it’s finally time to write something for him

masterlist

The moment Charles saw the look in your face as you reached to shake Carlos' hand, he knew he messed up. Despite being a year older than you, Charles has never been the overprotective type. He leaves all that to Enzo. More often than not, he encourages you to meet new people, go on that date with that nice guy from your chem 101 class. It's when they mess up that Charles is the first to throw in a punch.

That being said, he isn't particularly happy with the idea of you dating his teammate. It's not that he doesn't trust you and Carlos because he does but statistically, most relationships in our lifetimes fail. There are bigger chances of you and Carlos not working out than you did living happily ever after.

And when Carlos’ face lit up as he shook your hand, Charles felt as though he's watching a crash happen.

“Pleasure is all mine, Hermosa,” Carlos says kindly, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks. At that moment, Carlos thought you're the most beautiful being to exist, everyone else around you becoming background noise as he focussed his attention on you.

Meeting your eyes, it feels as though something clicked in place. It sounded cliche and overused but he could have sworn that everything suddenly felt a little brighter the moment you stepped into his life.

Charles looked back and forth between the two of you, resisting the urge to groan at the sudden brightness in Carlos’ eyes and the sudden redness of your cheeks. Introducing the two of you was definitely his worst mistake.

It didn't take long for you to suddenly keep appearing in the paddock more than usual. Charles is happy to have you around, of course, along with Arthur and Lorenzo but he found it odd how you're suddenly able to make time to jump from plane to plane just to show support.

However, he's quick to piece together the reason for your sudden interest in the sport when you climbed in the ferrari private plane, summer dress on and barely glancing at him as you crashed straight into Carlos’ chest. Your attempt at a ‘friendly hug’ that lasted longer than it should had him scoffing along with the wide smile the two of you are sporting.

“Qu'est-ce qui se passe ici ?” Arthur asked from beside Charles, surely already thinking about the thousand ways he can tease you of your obvious new crush. What’s going on there?

“C'est de ma faute,” Charles muttered under his breath as he watched Carlos reach over to tuck in a strand of your hair that fell to your face. My fault.

“Enzo ne sera pas content,” Arthur said with a mischievous grin, obviously finding amusement in the situation you're all currently in. Enzo won't be happy.

Enzo, the eldest of the four of you, has taken it upon himself to always be protecting his siblings, especifically you and Arthur. He can be overprotective, especially the guys you date, having been tasked more than once with picking up the broken shards of your heart after some guy callously broke it.

“Oi, Y/N!” Charles calls with clear irritation in his voice, breaking you and Carlos from the little bubble you've created, clearly having forgotten about everyone else. “Greet your brothers too, why don't you?”

“We haven't seen you for a month and you don't even notice us!” Arthur childishly whines, making you roll your eyes as you give Carlos another smile before moving towards your brothers.

“Je t'ai vu hier, Arthur,” you say, a little bit of accusation in your voice. I saw you yesterday, Arthur.

Arthur pouts but the teasing glint in his eyes is obvious. “Yes and I've missed you since.”

You roll your eyes again as you envelop Charles in a hug, reaching behind him to lightly smack the back of your youngest brother’s head.

“I'm going to tell maman.”

“Cry me a river, you big baby,” you say, your french accent jumping out.

Finally, Lorenzo enters the plane just as you and Arthur are beginning to bicker, Charles completely relaxed between you two, already used to it. Lorenzo sighs. It's always the two of you giving him a headache.

“Y/N, s'asseoir. Nous sommes sur le point de décoller,” Lorenzo orders in an attempt to stop you both before you really get at it. Y/N, sit. We're about to take off.

Instead of listening, you only cross your arms over your chest. “I'm not sitting next to Arthur.”

“Cry me a river, you big baby,” Arthur mocks childishly, causing a sigh from Enzo, Charles still completely unbothered in between the brewing chaos between the two youngest. Growing up, it's always been like this. You and Arthur bickering back and forth, Enzo trying to keep you both in line and Charles unbothered and used to it all.

However, before Enzo can propose a solution, you've already turned your back on them, walking back to where Carlos sat with his trainer, occupying the free seat next to the Spaniard as a smile breaks into your face, Carlos quickly putting his phone down in order to give you his full attention.

“When did that happen?” The oldest asked, causing a frown and Charles could feel himself shrinking in his seat.

Charles’ regret with introducing the two of you finally reached an all time high during the holiday break. You've been cooped up in your apartment for days, claiming the heavy load of school work you're going through to be the reason.

Charles had no suspicions. He had no reason to not believe you and so when he drove over to your place with a pint of your favorite ice cream in hand with the purpose of inviting you to join him and the rest of your friends in his yacht, he genuinely thought he was doing a nice thing.

He missed his family and he wanted to spend quality time with you guys before flying to Belgium in three weeks but his good mood was instantly ruined when he knocked on your door and it wasn't you who answered.

“Carlos?!” Charles asked, shocked and confused at seeing the Spaniard before him in Monaco, much less a very much topless one. As far as he knew, the rest of the other drivers are taking advantage of the break to spend time with their families so what’s Carlos doing in your apartment?

And then it became clear from the guilty look on Carlos’ face along with the purple marks all over his chest and neck and Charles let out a long groan as he pushed past his teammate into your apartment. “Y/N!”

Finally, you emerge from your bedroom, hair messy and skin all blotchy with matching love bites, wearing a too big shirt that definitely doesn't belong to you. “Charles! Tu ne m'as pas dit que tu venais.” You didn't tell me you were coming over.

Your attempt at playing dumb had him rolling his eyes as he points at a sheepish looking Carlos. “Explain yourself.”

“It isn't what it looks like,” you start before faltering, eyes switching between your brother and the man you had been on your knees for mere seconds ago. You can still taste his cum on your tongue. “Okay, nevermind that, it's definitely what it looks like.”

“Mate–” Carlos starts but Charles holds a finger up to stop him, sitting himself down on your couch.

“Give me a moment,” he says, mind spinning. Charles had never been the overprotective type but all he can think about is that Carlos is going to break your heart and Charles will have to kill him and there goes years of friendship down the drain.

“Here.” You offer him a glass of water. “We didn't mean to but we’ve liked each other for weeks and it just happened—”

“Stop,” Charles groans, not wanting to know the details of your relationship.

For a moment, silence envelops the three of you as Charles tries to gather his thoughts. He watched as you and Carlos slowly gravitated towards each other, finding yourself on the other side of the couch, legs pressed against each other’s and Carlos’ hand situating itself on your bare thigh.

Charles groans again. “I shouldn't have introduced you and now Enzo is going to kill me.”

The pure fear in your eyes almost worried Carlos if he didn’t already know that you and your brothers seem to share the same wavelength that consist of making each other lives the hardest it can be for giggles and laughs.

“No wait!” You say immediately, sitting next to Charles. “Parlons-en, Charles. Je vais lui dire. Ne le dis à personne. Especially not Arthur!” Let’s talk about this, Charles. I’ll tell him. Don’t tell anyone anything.

You already know that Enzo will freak out and Arthur will make your life a living hell by teasing you and quite frankly, you don’t want to put yourself or Carlos through that.

“Je n'aurais pas dû vous présenter tous les deux !” Charles exclaimed before facing Carlos, unknowingly switching to italian. “E tu, Carlos! Mia sorella, davvero? Non potevi scegliere letteralmente qualcun altro?” I shouldn’t have introduced the two of you! … and you, carlos! My sister, really? You couldn’t have chosen literally anyone else?

“Mate, non volevo che accadesse! Non ho mai voluto mancarti di rispetto, ma abbiamo–” I didn’t mean for it to happen. I never want to disrespect you but we’ve–

“Aye! Aye!” Charles interrupts, covering his ears like a toddler. “I don’t want to know anything about your relationship with my sister, mate!”

The switch in languages is giving you a whiplash as the two men seem to be speaking a thousand miles per hour, barely giving you time to catch up considering you’re not as fluent in italian as the two of them.

“Charles, stop acting like a toddler!” You exclaim finally, throwing your hands up in frustration the way that Carlos often teases you. “Je suis un adulte et je peux prendre mes propres décisions. Je peux sortir avec qui je veux sans ta permission ! Si vous avez un problème avec ça, vous pouvez vous le mettre au cul.” I am an adult and I can make my own decisions. I can date whoever I want without your permission! If you have a problem with it then you can shove it right up your ass.

With your outburst, Charles and Carlos both found themselves frozen in place. Charles because he hasn’t seen you that angry since secondary school when Arthur pranked you by dumping slime on your homework and Carlos because, well because he found you rambling in french to be an extremely attractive sight.

Charles rolls his eyes but knows that you’re right either way. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone.”

A small smile finally broke into your face as you reached towards him and enveloped him in your arms, causing Charles to roll his eyes for the second time as he couldn't help but return the hug.

“But please–”

“Charles,” you interrupt before he can say anything else that will annoy you. “That’s the end of the conversation and it’s your cue to leave.”

Charles looks like he wants to object but thinks better of it as he plants a kiss on your cheek before exiting your apartment, leaving you and Carlos shell shocked. Finally, you stand up and walk over to your lover, arms snaking around his neck and his placing on your hips as you go on your tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his lips, forcing him to look down at you.

“I think that went well, no?” You grin and Carlos can’t help but lean into your touch, pulling you closer to his body.

“I think we traumatized him.”

You grin wider, already dragging him to the bedroom

You and Carlos had woken up from the monte carlo sun blinding you through your window, wrapped around in each other as you dread bringing him to the airport to spend the next two weeks of his holiday break with his family with the promise of returning for the last week in order for you to introduce him to yours.

“I don’t want to leave,” he muttered against your skin, laying between your legs and head on your chest. His hold on you is tight as your fingers absentmindedly play with his hair.

“You have to,” you tell him. “You miss your family and you should spend time with them.”

You dread the next two weeks, having received a text from Charles that he’s going to be dragging you around with all of his plans along with your brothers. He calls it spending quality sibling time, you call it trapping you so they can grill you about your love life.

Carlos climbs from your chest so he’s hovering over you, lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. “Te amo.”

You smile softly as you cup his cheeks between your palms, guiding his lips on yours. “Je t'aime.”

Carlos grins into the kiss before slipping his tongue past your lips to explore your mouth. “Show me how much.”

In all honesty, with every new layer you uncover of your lover, you’re left in even more awe than the last time. He always finds some way to be touching you, so much so that you’re quite surprised it took Charles this long to figure out your relationship. Carlos is so soft, loving you so gently. He’s sweet and considerate, always knowing what you need before you even say it.

But when you’re in bed, there’s a different side of Carlos, someone who likes being in charge, being in control. Someone who demands you scream his name as loud as you can and would have you begging for release only to finally give it to you and have your legs shaking till you’re begging him to stop.

You were in the process of climbing down from his neck as you unbuttoned his pants when you heard it, immediately making Carlos halt your movements.

“Y/N!” You heard the voice of your little brother, throwing your front door open. “Qu'est-ce que j'entends de la part de Charles, que tu sors avec un certain pilote espagnol de Ferrari ?” What's this I'm hearing from Charles that you're dating a certain spanish ferrari driver?

You groan, pulling yourself up as Carlos’ hard on immediately softens at the sound of your brother’s voice. “I’m going to kill Charles.”

Carlos laughs as you fall back into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. “You have way too many brothers.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you finally pulled yourself up, pulling him along with you as you threw a hoodie in his direction. You can’t find it in you to be ashamed as you watch his back muscles flex and stretch as he pulls the hoodie over his head.

“Like what you see, Corazón?” He teases and you playfully roll your eyes.

“I’d like it more if I were on my knees right now sucking your dick.”

At that exact moment, Arthur comes barging into your bedroom, thankfully not having heard your statement as he all but throws himself at your bed, throwing a weird glance at Carlos’ extremely reddening face.

Facing your brother, you give him your best stern look. Charles and Enzo may get to boss you around but you are still older than Arthur by a good two years. You’re well within your rights to be mean to him whenever you see fit.

“Arthur!” You start. “I gave you a spare key in case of an emergency, not so you can come into my home anytime you want.”

“This is an emergency.” He sounds so much like a whiny child that you have half a mind to throw your slippers at him. “I wanted to see if what Charles said was true. I can’t believe you actually got yourself a boyfriend!”

“I’m going to kill Charles,” you repeat, Carlos planting a kiss on your temple as he continues on to the shower, leaving you to deal with the youngest Leclerc. “And what do you mean by that, you idiot?”

“Well, I mean you look a bit like a troll–”

This time, you actually throw your slipper at him.

---

You squirm as Carlos’ finger circles your clit, his lips attacking your neck.

“Doing so good for me, Amor,” he whispers against your skin. “Doing so good keeping quiet.”

“Carlos,” you whine out, squirming on his lap in an attempt to get his finger to move. “Please.”

“What do you want, baby?” He asked, the callus pad of his finger feeling like heaven against your most sensitive area.

“Please touch me,” you beg, already breathless. “Please, please.”

You can feel the imprint of his mischievous grin as he kisses along your neck to your shoulder. “I am touching you, Amor.”

God, you both love and hate it when he gets like this. “More. More please.”

His driver room is tiny and so your heavy pants bounce against the walls and you’re sure you sound pathetic begging for his touch but he hasn’t touched you since he left you in monte carlo that first week of his holiday break and quite frankly, you’re desperate for some sort of relief.

Carlos nibbles at the sensitive skin on your neck, making you release a moan that you desperately tried to hold in. “Alright, honey, since you’re being such a good girl letting me use you like this.”

Finally, finally, his finger slips inside your folds, giving you relief as you throw your head back, your legs turning jelly and Carlos being the one holding you up as you become puny in his hold. You bite your lip in an attempt to hold in your moans as his finger starts moving faster.

“So filthy,” Carlos whispers in your ear as the squelching sound of his finger thrusting inside your cunt vibrates around the small area. “So filthy for me.”

“Hmm,” you agree, head thrown back as you begin feeling your high approaching, the feeling intensifying as Carlos adds in another finger. Your climax is right within your reach as your legs shake, hands gripping Carlos’ thigh that you’re sure your nails would leave an imprint on his skin.

Yet just as you’re about to spasm, you both hear insistent knocks on Carlos’ door, your eyes flying open at the intrusion.

Carlos keeps his fingers buried deep inside you, movements not ceasing as he speaks up. “Who is it?”

You’re honestly amazed at how even his voice is while you feel as though you’re about to fall apart, having moved your head so you’re biting on his shoulder in an attempt to keep yourself quiet, something that Carlos barely flinched at.

“It’s Lorenzo,” came your eldest brother’s voice and just like that, the moment was broken and Carlos immediately pulled his fingers out of you.

You feel like you’ve been robbed, your climax so close yet now so far as Carlos very easily removes you from his lap, making sure your clothes are perfectly back in place, wiping his hand on a nearby face towel and spraying some alcohol on his palms before he opens the door with the biggest smile on his face as though he hadn’t just been finger fucking you seconds ago.

For a moment, you sat stunned. A few seconds ago, you were coming undone with your boyfriend’s fingers deep inside you and now said boyfriend is smiling at your older brother as if Lorenzo had cured cancer itself. You know he’s been desperate to earn your family’s respect ever since you two went public but goddamn it couldn’t he have let you finish first?

“Maman is insisting on a dinner to cheer Charles up and celebrate Carlos’ podium,” said your brother. “We’ve been waiting for the two of you for ages.”

“Actually, can we—” you start but your boyfriend gives you a pointed look before he interrupts.

“We’ll be there in a second,” Carlos said calmly. “Let me just change out of my race suit.”

You’re on your boyfriend as soon as the door closes, glaring at him. “That’s extremely rude.”

Carlos grins as he pulls you towards him in order to connect your lips. “I’ll take care of you later, Amor.”

Carlos does not, in fact, take care of you later. It isn’t his fault. The next couple of days were extremely hectic with ferrari working overtime to catch up with red bull and you barely got any moment alone with him apart to sleep.

You understand, really, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t felt extremely on edge the entire time. It’s like the cruelest game of teasing and never getting to cum. And frankly, you blame your brothers entirely for your predicament.

“Charlotte, I’m telling you it’s like they’re determined to make sure I don’t have a sex life!” You complain over the phone. “Ils continuent à apparaître de nulle part ! Je suis sur le point d'embrasser Carlos ? Oh, voilà Charles ! Je suis assis sur les genoux de Carlos ? Enzo frappe à la porte ! Je veux descendre sur mon petit ami ? Il y a Arthur !” They keep appearing out of nowhere! I'm about to kiss Carlos? Oh there's Charles! I'm sat on carlos' lap? Enzo's knocking on the door! I want to go down on my boyfriend? There's Arthur!

On the other side, Charlotte laughs loudly at your misery and if you weren’t so frustrated, you’d find it in yourself to be embarrassed but you haven’t been this sexually frustrated since you were a teenager and everytime Carlos even mildly touches you, it’s like your body goes on an overdrive and you’re ready to get down on your knees for him. Unfortunately for you, your brothers seem to be everywhere. One always seems to be tailing you around.

You suddenly agree with Carlos that you have way too many brothers because this is just ridiculous at this point.

“Ils ne le font sûrement pas exprès,” Charlotte says, trying to calm you down. Surely they don't mean to do it on purpose.

“I don’t care,” you pout again. You so badly want to jump his bones that you almost feel like a pervert. “I just need them to leave me alone for an hour so I can actually spend time with my boyfriend. Can’t you just steal Charles for the day so I can lock Arthur and Lorenzo somewhere?”

Charlotte laughs again. “I’ll be there by tomorrow and I definitely wouldn’t mind a day alone with Charles.”

“Yes please, I’d kiss you on the spot!”

Finally, Carlos and Charles arrive and you end your call with Charlotte in favor of spending time with your boyfriend, removing the armrest between the two of you so you can place your head against his shoulder.

“Mon amour, you are cruel,” you whisper against his ear, making sure no one else can hear.

At your words, Carlos’ eyes darkened a bit. “Trust me, Corazón, I’d love to fuck you silly too.”

Very much like you, Carlos too is struggling with the multiple interruptions as is now becoming apparent to you considering that your boyfriend barely uses such dirty words outside the bedroom. He needed you and he’s beginning to get a little desperate. That must be why he agreed when you told him to follow you to the bathroom five minutes after you.

Carlos loves trying out things in the bedroom but one thing he isn’t is risky. The idea of getting caught fills him terror rather than lust especially the thought of getting caught by someone you shouldn’t be caught by with his career in the line. You understand and it isn’t usually your thing either but you’re both desperate. A little bit of relief is very much needed or else you’ll explode.

You basically throw yourself at him as soon as the door shuts, your lips messy against his as Carlos’ hands fall to your hips, trying to stabilize you as you hurriedly pull his shirt off him, mouth already traveling to his exposed neck.

“Needy, are you?” He teases but he lets you take the lead despite knowing you’d willingly give control if he wanted it. Despite his good boy persona, Carlos does have an ego and nothing boosts a man’s ego more than his girlfriend being desperate for him.

“Shut up,” you muttered, already working on his belt that seems to be adamant to stay on. “Ceinture stupide.” Stupid belt.

You grin triumphantly once you finally get the belt off him and the sight of you grinning as you hold his belt up triumphantly was so adorable to him that Carlos planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, genuinely so hopelessly in love with you in that moment as you move to unzip his pants. You don’t even pay attention to the sudden sweet gesture in the middle of your lust filled mission to get him in your mouth as you sink to your knees.

Carlos holds your hair in a ponytail as you pull out his cock out of his boxers, kitty licking the side and causing Carlos to throw his head back, lightly tugging at your hair. “Baby, don’t play.”

You look up at him under your lashes, the pure look of innocence if only you aren’t gripping his cock. Finally, you put him into your mouth, slowly lowering your head till your nose hits his pelvis and his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Y/N!” And then there’s banging on the door and you actually fall on your ass at the impact considering that you and Carlos were leaning on said door.

“I’m going to scream,” you tell your boyfriend as you recognize your brother’s voice, completely frustrated at the predicament you found yourself in for the fourth time.

Carlos laughs, kneeling next to you as he covers your mouth. “Don’t.”

“Y/N, you better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there!” Charles screams from the other side, banging on the door once again.

“Just ignore him,” you plead, reaching between the two of you to grip Carlos’ now softening cock. “Please.”

“Amor, as beautiful as you are, I’m not going to have sex with you with your brother on the other side of the door,” Carlos side, hastily pulling his boxers and jeans up.

“Y/N!” Charles calls again, voice becoming louder and you can hear Arthur’s voice on the other side now too.

“Can’t a woman shit in peace around here?” You scream back as Carlos slips his shirt back on, you still sitting on the floor, arms crossed over your chest and a pout pulling on your lips.

“Do you need Carlos in there with you in order to take a dump, sister?” You recognize Arthur’s voice (which if you aren’t so pissed at them, you’d pat yourself on the back on considering that Charles and Arthur’s voices when speaking English are eerily similar).

“Leave me alone!” You scream again as Carlos, now fully clothed, pulls you up from the floor. You pout, lightly pulling at his shirt in your last attempt to convince him to continue what you had been doing but Carlos only chuckles as he finally unlocks the door, revealing a smirking Arthur and a disgusted looking Charles.

“Y/N was just helping me with something,” Carlos tries to reason, his hand entwining with yours.

You look murderous as you glare at your brothers, making sure to give them the middle finger as you drag Carlos back to your seats.

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @lostinketterdam

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #ferrari #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc fluff #lorenzo leclerc #lorenzo leclerc fluff

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maxillness · 5 days

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May Uploading Schedule

Sir Lewis - LH44 (3rd)

Reader uses Lewis’ sir kink against him

Skin - SV5 (6th)

Reader asks Sebastian to fuck her after a bad race

My Ass - C.H (10th)

Christian makes sure his wife knows who her ass belongs to

Invisible - CS55 (13th)

Reader thinks she’s invisible but is proven wrong

You Say You Hate Me - MV1 (17th)

Reader accidentally gives her boyfriend a boner during his stream

Stacy’s Brother - L.L (20th)

Arthur’s not the reason for the marks around her neck

Braid Me - LH44 (24th)

Reader helps Lewis redo his braids

FU In My Head - MV1 (27th)

Max has dirty thoughts about his teammates twin sister

That’s What Girlfriends Are For - LS18 (31st)

Lance tries to prove he can take control during a blowjob, but fails

#smut #formula one #dom!reader #Lewis Hamilton smut #Sebastian vettel smut #christian horner smut #Carlos sainz smut #max verstappen smut #Lorenzo Leclerc smut #Lance stroll smut

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purfectstormzz · 9 months

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The last time | Carlos Sainz Jr x reader

Summary: y/n and Carlos talk about what they’re going to do.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!Leclerc!reader

Warnings: Arguments, badly written story

Check my Masterlist for previous parts or following parts :)

Part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4(this fic)| part 5

Y/n waited anxiously for her boyfriend to come home. What was Carlos going to say? What was she supposed to tell him? How was she supposed to start this conversation?

After 10 long minutes she heard the door open. Turning around to greet her boyfriend she became even more anxious.

“Corazón I’m home!” Carlos yelled from the entrance hall. “I’m in the kitchen” Y/n yelled back.

“Hola mi amor” the Spaniard said after walking into the kitchen while taking his coat of. “Hi.” The girl answered back. Carlos walked over to were she was standing to give her a kiss on her lips. “You wanted to talk about something amor.” Carlos said still looking at the girl infront of him. Y/n sighed before telling him “Carlos are you sure you want to tell my brothers about us?” Carlos looked at his girlfriend with a confused look on his face. “Do you want to tell them?” He asked the girl. Y/n didn’t answer. She didn’t know what she was supposed to answer. Was she supposed to tell him the truth? Or was she supposed to lie to him to avoid an argument. “Querida please tell me.” Carlos pleaded looking at y/n with his big brown eyes. “Carlos I really don’t want to tell them.” She confessed. “Why don’t you want to tell them?”The Spaniard asked. “I just don’t want to.” Y/n exclaimed. “Is it because you’re scared of their reaction.” Carlos asked. Y/n looked up at him seeing tears already forming in his eyes. “Or is it because you don’t want to be with me?” Carlos asked her, his voice cracking when he finished his sentence. “No no, Carlos that’s not the reason.” She told him. “Then what is the reason? Please just tell me cariño.” Carlos begged her a tear rolling down his cheek. “I just can’t Carlos. I can’t tell them.” Y/n responded. Carlos wiped the tears that were rolling down his cheeks while looking down at his girlfriend in front of him. “So you want to hide this relationship forever? You’re never going to tell them?” Carlos snapped getting angrier and angrier at the girl in front of him. Why couldn’t you just tell him the real reason. “We’ve been hiding our relationship for a year Carlos. Why can’t we just wait a little longer?” The girl grunted. “A YEAR Y/N!” Carlos yelled. “WE’VE BEEN HIDING THIS RELATIONSHIP FOR A FUCKING YEAR!” He screamed at her. “DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHY I WANT TO HIDE THIS CARLOS?!” Y/n screamed back at the Spaniard. “Yes tell me.” Carlos muttered lowering his voice. “I DON’T WANT TO TELL THEM BECAUSE I KNOW HOW CHARLES IS GOING TO REACT!” She screamed growing angrier at the Spaniard in front of her. “Is that the only reason? Are you sure there isn’t another reason” Carlos asked her. “Carlos if you can’t respect the fact that I need more time than maybe we should end this.” Y/n snapped at her boyfriend. “More time?” Carlos asked. “MORE TIME?” He screamed his face turning red. “YOU’VE HAD A WHOLE YEAR OF TIME Y/N. IS THAT NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU? HOW LONG DO YOU WANT TO KEEP THIS RELATIONSHIP A SECRET?” He yelled becoming more frustrated than he already was. “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST RESPECT THE FACT THAT I DON’T WANT TO TELL THEM?” Y/n screamed back at him.

Their screaming match went on for 20 more minutes. They were both growing tired of this stupid argument. “YOU KNOW WHAT MAYBE WE SHOULD END THIS!” Y/n yelled at Carlos. The Spaniard looked at her, pure shock in his eyes. “W-what?” He muttered. “You heard me Carlos. We should end this.” She stated. “So that’s it? You want to throw this whole relationship away just because we can’t come to an agreement?” Carlos asked her. “I think that’s exactly what we should do.” Y/n stated tears welling up in her eyes. “Corazón please.” Carlos begged her. Y/n looked at him seeing new tears already streaming down his cheeks. The girl turned around to walk away from Carlos. To walk away from this stupid argument. “Y/n please.” Carlos begged her. “Don’t walk away. We can talk about this just don’t give up on us.” He said. Y/n turned around to look at Carlos. “Carlos please don’t make this harder than it already is.” She pleaded. Carlos looked at her in disbelief before walking away and grabbing his car keys. He reached the door and turned back around to look at the girl, tears streaming down both of their cheeks. “I love you y/n.” He confessed before opening the door and walking out. Y/n let out a silent sob. She walked over to the bedroom that they used to share before plopping down onto the bed. She started sobbing, tears streaming down her face. She turned around laying herself down on the bed. Y/n tossed and turned before she finally fell asleep.

Meanwhile Carlos found himself driving to Lando’s home. After a 10 minute drive he arrived at his house. Carlos walked up to the front door before knocking on Lando’s door. “Carlos what are you doing here?” Lando asked Carlos after opening the door. “It’s over Lando.” Carlos sobbed. “She’s gone.” The Brit looked at his friend in front of him. “Carlos what are you talking about?” Lando asked his friend confused. “We broke up.” The Spaniard cried. “Oh mate, come on in.” Lando whispered to his friend.

Carlos found himself curled up in Lando’s guest bedroom thinking about the argument. It was a stupid argument to begin with. Why wouldn’t she just tell him the real reason. Why couldn’t they just tell her brothers about them.

Carlos kept on wondering and replaying the argument in his head over and over again before finally falling asleep.

A/n: this sucks but it’s the first story I’ve ever written so please be kind :)

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #Carlos Sainz x leclerc!reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc #lando norris #lorenzo leclerc #formula one

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formulaforza · 11 months

Text

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—03. i think i fell in love today —word count: 7.5k —warnings: despicable tooth rotting clawing my eyes out eating the stuffing in my pillows fluff. truly its horrendous. lets talk about it. —love, mackie... i'm sleeping hopefully. right now I am hammocking. the ice cream truck just drove past. I love June.

After Paris, Chris was a bit apprehensive when it came to her ability to navigate the airport in Abu Dhabi with any sort of efficiency. Especially not now, where she needs to go through customs and register for a visitor’s visa and find her luggage and get her money exchanged. Pleasantly, though, she’s surprised at the ease she works through her notes app checklist. It’s within the hour that she’s climbing into the backseat of a taxi and heading to the hotel.

She spends the entirety of the twenty-something minute drive doing a deep dive on Joris’ Instagram. He’s going to be waiting for you, Charles had told her the night they’d worked it all out. How he knew his friend would be free is beyond Chris, but that's not even the bigger issue at hand. The issue is, of course, that she’s had no more than a momentary interaction with Joris in the background of a FaceTime call two weeks ago. The thought of breezing past him in the hotel lobby is a mortifying one.

It’s quarter after seven by the time she gets there, and when she catches a glance of herself in a mirror on the wall and almost bursts into laughter. Someone could tell her that she fell down the stairs in Austin and hit her head and is in a coma and it would feel more believable than her life right now. This just… this doesn’t happen to her; five star hotels in foreign countries and heavy accents and guys who call her beautiful from the other side of the globe.

She spots Joris in an armchair on his phone at the other end of the lobby. She approaches nervously, and he stirs from his phone at her sudden proximity. “Hi,” Chris greets, sounds almost apologetic for interrupting him. “Joris, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, dragging out the vowel sounds when he glances back down at his screen. Chris wonders if he knows he’s waiting for her.

She smiles. “I’m Chris.”

“Right!” He snaps his fingers, shoves his phone into his pocket. “Chris.” He stands and opens his arms to hug her like they’re old friends. It’s a move straight from her book, one that she’s pulled on dozens of people before. It’s not one that she’s met with often. Chris thinks they’ll get on well, her and Joris. That’s a good thing, right? Friendly friends.

Chris’ mom had told her more than once that the quickest way to know someone’s character is through their friends. Only a maniac is rude to animals and elderly and children, she’d said a million times over, it’s the character of the people they choose to spend time with that matters. Joris has no idea Chris is silently observing his every action, picking them apart on a human level.

On the elevator ride up, Joris fills Chris in on everything that’s happened during the free practices that day, tells her that it’s been a relatively clean couple of sessions. You do know of the risk this weekend, yes? P2 or P3, he asks and answers his own question. Chris nods. If she didn’t know, she does now. The room is on the fifth floor, she notes, staring at the glowing five button as she picks at her cuticles. It hits her like a ton of bricks, her anxiety skyrocketing as the elevator ascends, her stomach left behind on the ground level.

This whole thing is crazy, and not the quirky, silly story you tell your friends about over a vodka cran crazy. Just plain crazy. Insane. Off the wall absurd. Why, why are they sharing a room? Why is she even here? What is it about her that can’t be found somewhere, anywhere, else? And the most prudent question, the one ringing in her ears louder with each passing moment; what is it about him?

Chris has never considered herself to be logical, not in the slightest, but she does like to maintain the idea that she’s well grounded. She might not always act in a way that makes the most sense, but she always makes those choices within the bounds of her reality.

And, because her nerves permeate off her like a thirteen-year-old’s B.O, Joris takes a stab at cooling her down. “How was your planes?”

“Good. Smooth.” she nods, forces a smile. Her weight shifts from heel to heel, thumbs looped through her backpack straps. The floor is a shiny black marble with white and gold veins, one that commands your attention. Chris pulls her eyes from it to look at him anyway. Nervous and insane or not, she wants to make a good impression. “I could do without navigating the airport in Paris ever again, though.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “It never gets easier.”

“Does any of it?” She offers up a laugh, but it’s as genuine as the smile her face held before.

He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off with the ding of the doors opening. There, in the hallway with more marble floors and a wallpaper that walks the line between elegant and gaudy, a couple stands on a white carpet runner. The man has on a Mercedes cap. Chris wonders if they know a Formula One driver is staying on their floor.

The four of them sidestep awkwardly around each other with polite smiles to the floor, and before she knows it Joris is holding a keycard over the lock on a heavy door and handing the piece of plastic to her.

It’s not a room. It’s a suite. There’s a living room and a kitchenette and a whole separate bedroom to this place. It’s expensive, wildly so, she’s sure.

She wheels her suitcase into the bedroom, leaves it in the corner by an armchair with her backpack. At the bottom of the bag is her purse, which she digs out while Joris is using the bathroom, moving things around from one bag to the other.

The drive to the circuit is twenty minutes, at least, and Joris talks the whole time, mostly about how nervous he is and how hard he’s trying to make sure Charles doesn’t notice. Chris doesn’t tell him that Charles is also beyond nervous about the whole thing–or that he knows good and well everyone around him is losing their minds. It doesn’t seem like the type of thing that would make Joris feel any better.

“Pascale and Enzo, you know them, yes? Charles’ Mum and brother?” Joris questions.

“Nope,” Chris shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Oh, he doesn’t say. “You’ll like them if you like Charles,” he laughs. “You do like Charles?”

Chris bites down on a smile, a laugh leaving her nose in an exhale. “I do.”

“Good, good.” He nods. “Anyway, they are not here tonight, they already have gone back to the hotel. Arthur is there, still. Do you know him?”

“I think it’s going to be easier for both of us if you just assume I don’t know anyone.”

“Ah, okay. Will do.”

Chris wonders what Charles has said about her to Joris, to Arthur, to anyone. All of the stories he has or hasn’t told them about. She has almost exclusively not talked about him back home. Not because she doesn’t want to, she just can’t figure out how to say anything without sounding like a reality television star. Maybe he’s the same way. There’s a real chance that nobody in his family even knows that she’s coming, and maybe that’s the way she’d like it to be.

Her reunion with Charles couldn’t be more different than their first meeting. The paddock is empty with exception of team crews and straggling media members. There isn’t a Bud Light in sight and the pass hanging around her neck has a picture of her on the back. He must’ve pulled it from her Instagram, the one that he keeps talking about wanting to follow back. A picture of her and CHRISTYN ELLIOTT - FULL WEEKEND written in bold letters.

“He’s probably at the briefing,” Joris explains, checking his watch and walking one stride for every two of Chris’. She tries her hardest to keep up with him as he expertly navigates the paddock, all while trying to memorize his moves so she doesn’t end up stranded sometime this weekend.

A whistle gets their attention, cutting sharply through the hot desert air. Her and Joris both snap their heads around to find the perpetrator of the summons. Charles pats Pierre’s shoulder and jogs ahead of the group of drivers, all already engaged in their own conversations and heading off into different directions.

He has such a carefree smile on his face, jogging over with happy eyes and wiggling brows and a stupid little wink that puts a smile on her face. “Hello, Christyn,” he quips, greets her with open arms. And then, once his arms are pulling her to him so tight she can’t take a full breath, when he has so much energy to give her he can’t help but rock on the sides of his feet, he whispers just for her, “Hi,” a soft kiss on the crown of her head, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

All she can think about is how warm he is. Warm, and smells so nice. She doesn’t know how she’s going to ever go home. Not when he’s so warm.

“How was the planes?” He asks, an arm comfortable slotting around her as they resume their walk to wherever it is she’s being led.

“Uh, I’m tired, but.” She smiles. At him. Right there where she can touch him. Where he is touching her. “I’m here, so. I’m happy.”

On the walk back to hospitality, she asks him how his day’s gone. He’s sure she already knows, that Joris talked her ear off the entire drive over or that she’d checked the media reports of the practice sessions, but it’s nice to pretend she doesn’t know. He tries to summarize everything as concise as he can, because even though he loves talking to her, he’d much rather listen. He can listen to her talk until the sun burns out.

He’s not surprised to notice that Joris has peeled off from them, especially not because he didn’t even realize he wasn’t trailing behind him and Chris until he held open the door to his driver’s room and Joris was nowhere to be found.

He can’t count the amount of texts he’s had to have sent Chris from his driver’s room. How badly he wanted to just be talking with her, and now she’s here. She’s here, she’s here, she’s here with him.

He moves around the room, cleaning and reorganizing his things for a fresh start in the morning. Casually, he mentions that he has a sponsorship obligation tonight, last race and all, and that Arthur and Joris are coming along. He doesn’t speak it so offhandedly because he’d forgotten, but because he didn’t want her to get freaked out by the idea of it. He explains that she’s welcome to tag along, or, if she’d feel more comfortable, she can stay here while Andrea packs up his things.

She’s leaning against the wall just next to the doorway, watching him. Without hesitation, she replies, “I’ll come with you.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking to her. “You don’t have to.”

She nods, looks at the ground or the couch or something that isn’t him, folds her hand to look at her nails and lets out an almost silent laugh. His stomach drops. “You sound like you don’t want me to go.”

“No, no.” He corrects, and she still doesn’t look at him. He waves for her attention, cocks his head to the side when he gets it, “No. That’s not. I just want you to do what you want to do.”

“I want to go.”

“Okay,” he smiles.

She crosses her arms over her chest, looks like she’s trying so hard not to smile at him. “You’re being weird, you know?”

He shrugs, because she’s right. “I told you I would be.”

“Well,” Chris sighs, moves across the room to the small couch in the corner, “why are you being weird?”

“Because.” I want to kiss you, he stops himself from saying. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you twenty minutes ago, since you decided to come, since I met you, maybe.

“Because, why?” She laughs, and he’s suddenly struck with the thought of what her laughter might taste like. Sweet, surely, just like it sounds. Like a popsicle on a summer day.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he tries his absolute hardest to wipe that thought from his brain before texting his brother back. “Je veux t'embrasser tout le temps,” I want to kiss you all the time, he mumbles, isn’t even sure it actually leaves his lips or if he keeps it locked in the vault. He continues to send his reply to Arthur.

“You know I don’t understand what you just said,” Chris reminds him. That’s why it came out in French, he thinks. Not everything is meant to be said.

“I said,” he pauses, sends the text, looks back at her. God. “I said I want to kiss you.”

She crosses one leg over the other, looks down at her pants like there is something in her lap to fix. He can see the blush on the tips of her ears, even though she’s trying to hide her cheeks. When she does look up, face still flushed, she tucks her bangs behind her ears and replies softly, “you’re allowed to kiss me, Charles.”

He can’t believe he hasn’t yet. That he’d hugged the life out of her, kissed her hair and told her how happy he is she’s there, that he’d thought about kissing her for weeks, that he didn’t fucking kiss the girl yet. They’re sharing a bedroom tonight, and he still hasn’t kissed her. He thought about it, he did. But they’d promised to keep things as quiet as they could. Now, he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have stopped him from throwing all those conversations out the window.

If there wasn’t something weird in the air before, there certainly is now. A new weird. A good weird. An implication of something in the air, weird. It’s out there now, ust hanging above them. I want to kiss you. You can kiss me. Now all that’s left is for one of them to make the move.

It’s the least he can do–make the first move. She flew across the globe, he can fucking kiss her. He wants to fucking kiss her. He feels like a little kid, the giddy smile that pulls on the corners of his lips when he walks over to her. He does little to conceal his intent.

“What?” She asks with a smile on her face. A tease, she has to know.

He holds out his hands, palms forward to her and she follows his lead, reaches up to lace their fingers together. “I like you, you know?” He asks, leans his weight against her hands. Some hands are just meant to be held.

She giggles like a child, pure and innocent and like nothing bad has ever happened to her. Like the childhood dog and all four grandparents are still kicking. “I can’t hold you up.”

“What?” He quirks a brow, leans more weight onto her hands and she laughs harder, her arms shaking below him.

“Charles!”

“I said I like you, Chris!”

Through weak arms and uncontrollable belly laughs, she manages to choke out in gulps for air, “I like you, too.” In a swift movement, he recenters his weight on his own feet, pulling Chris up from the couch. The force of his pull almost knocks her from her feet, both of them still laughing, fingers dancing with the others on either side of their frames. The laughter is light and airy and barely there, but it’s laughter nonetheless. When their hands do fall apart, their pinkies stay looped together without force, without any pull at all, just comfortably slotted against the other. “I really like you,” she adds, and her voice sounds like smiles look.

She blushes under her own words, over the entirety of their private moment, eyes darting from eyes to lips and back to eyes. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, like he’s scared asking might change her answer. She nods, biting down on the smile that paints her bottom lip, and it’s more than enough for him. She’s so good. She’s too good not to kiss.

He moves a hand to her jaw, thumbs her cheek with fingers slotted behind her ear, dancing along her hairline like a whisper of what’s to come. Like a promise. In the absence of his hand, hers finds his chest, just his thin Ferrari shirt separating her palm from the butterflies stirring wildly in his chest. “Me, too,” he says softly. Softer than she did, more to her lips—soft and pretty and his favorite shade of pink—than to her eyes. And then, either so softly only the atoms hear it, or maybe in his head entirely, “very much.”

And then he kisses her.

She tastes like mint chapstick and biscoff cookies and coffee. Her lips are soft, softer than they looked, softer than her voice. It’s like a boost of energy, kissing her. Like an immediate and complete charge.

She tightens her grip on his other pinky. Tightens it, loosens it, re-intertwines the whole hand somewhere off in the distance, far, far away from where he wishes to stay forever. This alone is worth a flight anywhere. Altitude sickness and limbs falling asleep and jet lag and headaches from screaming babies are all poor inhibitors when this would be waiting for him on the other side.

He pulls his hand from hers because it's just not close enough. Nothing is going to be close enough, but he’ll try his damndest to cup her jaw and pull her deeper into the kiss. Their noses bump awkwardly and they pull apart in a breathless laugh. Nothing more than a quick, shared smile and he’s kissing it off her face, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth and letting her hum mumbles into his mouth. Teeth clacking and more laughing, so breathless it’s practically silent.

“Chris Elliott,” he says all sing-songy, just because he knows it’ll make her laugh. A quick peck, because he can. “You are something.”

“Charles Leclerc,” she mimics, wide eyes and raised brows and a beaming smile. A quick peck, because he’s never going to stop her. “Something good?”

He hums. “Something great.”

“You’re silly,” she says, and he laughs.

“Silly?” She nods. “You’re cute.” Chris rolls her eyes, but still has that child’s smile on her face and a pink flush to her cheeks. He kisses her again, quick, because he has a month to make up for.

“I know,” she retorts, deadpan. He laughs louder than any sane man should.

Joris, Arthur, and Andrea file into the room a few minutes later. Chris is leaning against the wall again, scrolling through her phone. She clicks it off when they walk in, shoves it deep into her purse pocket.

Andrea’s eyes bounce from Chris to Charles, and then back to Chris, holding out a hand for her to shake. “Andrea,” he greets, formal and cool.

“Chris,” she smiles, shakes the outstretched hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “You too.”

First bad impression. She doesn’t know what it is she did, but with the simple half-minute observation of his interactions with her versus the rest of the people in the room, it’s obvious he’s already soured on her.

Arthur, though, Arthur is almost off putting in his resemblance to Charles. Same voice, same face, certainly same bloodline. She thinks she could recognize him anywhere, probably. He, however, on his phone, doesn’t even notice Chris’ presence in the room until Joris elbows him on the sofa.

“Quoi?!” He exclaims in a defensive tone that transcends language barriers. The kind that only brothers know how to use.

“Hi,” Chris says, and Arthur’s head shoots from Joris to her in the doorway. He almost laughs, he’s so surprised by her presence. “I’m Chris,” she adds, holding out a hand only because he's sitting and she’s standing and a hug doesn’t feel logistically sound.

“Ah, Chris,” Arthur nods, shakes her hand. “Charles does not answer my phone calls because of you.”

“Oh,” she offers a weak smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, no. I do not want to hear from him.”

Chris laughs. From the other side of the room, Charles chimes in, “then why are you calling me?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Maman say, ‘do you call Charles’ and I say ‘yes he does not answer me.’”

- - -

They run into Carlos and co. on the way to the sponsorship event. Chris tries to hang back towards the end of the group, back with Joris and Arthur and away from Charles, purely out of self preservation. They’d agreed in passing that everything would be much easier, hundreds of times simpler, if nobody knew Chris was there this weekend, if everything was kept under the radar. Charles, however, seems to have forgotten that agreement because, no matter how engaged he gets into a conversation, he is constantly looking for her in the group, reaching his hand out to her if she’s within distance to do so, keeping her as close to him as he can.

She keeps falling back though, falling into ranks. She doesn’t want to look like a girlfriend, because she isn’t.

Chris has no idea how to be a public… girl? A fling or a girlfriend or anything in between. She’s at home at a race track, yes, and during Chase’s championship winning season, she got stopped three times to take pictures with fans, but, really. Nobody has ever cared about what she’s doing or who she’s doing it with.

Walking in behind Carlos and Charles is like walking in behind celebrities. Everyone wants to shake their hands, to pat them on the shoulders and tell them this thing or another. There’s lots of languages being thrown around that she doesn’t recognize, accents she struggles to understand.

“This is crazy,” she says quietly, just to herself.

Arthur nudges her with his elbow to steal her attention, furrows his brows for a moment and holds up a quizzical thumbs up. Chris nods, smiles gratefully.

Charles promised that it was going to be nothing more than a quick stop at the event, and he meant it. They aren’t even there long enough to sit down. Instead they hang out in the back of the tent near the bar, watching Charles and Carlos talk on stage with several different people about how important this brand is for us.

They decide to go out to dinner after, despite Chris’ burning desire to go to sleep for a couple years. They get sat at a booth that’s probably made to hold no more than four people; Andrea and Joris on one side, Charles sandwiched between Chris and Arthur on either side. He finds her hand under the table, his thumb tracing along the lines of her fingers. Chris, against all urges to rest her head on his shoulder, rests it instead on the wooden divider between their booth and the neighboring one.

Arthur is the only one who struggles to speak English rather than his mother tongue, and while Charles corrects him each time, Chris doesn’t dare. She’d rather die than imply someone speaking in a second language needs to improve the way they speak it.

“Are you going to be with us all weekend?” Arthur asks around Charles’ frame.

“I’m actually going to be in the grandstands,” she smiles. Charles rolls his eyes.

“Oh?” Arthur asks, looks to his brother, but Joris beats him to the punch.

“You couldn’t get her a pass for the whole weekend?” Joris chirps. Andrea laughs and Charles reaches for the pass hung around her neck. She didn’t even realize she was the only person still wearing it until now. Charles flips the pass over, points out the FULL WEEKEND on the back.

“Her choice, not mine.”

She reaches to take the pass out of his hand, to pull it off over her head and put it into her purse. “I’m hoping for a drama-free weekend,” she says, and the boys laugh. Charles’ hand finds her thigh, gives it a little pat and a comfortable squeeze.

Her hands are meant to be held, they really are. He could hold her hand until the moment she leaves, fingers locked together as they walk through the hotel corridor, empty and echoey with their voices and the sound of their feet on the carpet runner.

Once in the room, face to face together with the single bed, they both burst into laughter. He’s glad he cleaned things up before she got here, because the room was starting to look a little like his driver’s room–clothes strewn about messily, plastic water bottles on the end table, a television remote he lost the night he got here and hadn’t found until this morning. In the corner, Chris’ luggage sits beside the armchair, backpack neatly stacked with a single suitcase.

“Did you bring your whole wardrobe?” He jokes, and maybe it’s because he’s never been great at conveying jokes in English, or maybe it’s that they’re both absolutely exhausted, but the joke doesn't land. She’s immediately apologizing, spewing out a jumbled apology about I didn’t know what I was supposed to wear, and then– “I’m messing with you,” he says, and hates that she thinks he’d be that worked up over a suitcase, especially when he’d brought at least double what she had. She could have shown up with twenty suitcases and he still wouldn’t have thought it was too much because, well, she’s here. Right in front of him.

“Oh,” she pouts, and he kisses the look off her face. He’s wanted to do that since he saw it for the first time. “Oh. I like when you do that.” Good, he thinks. Get used to it.

They both make plans to shower; her before him. He’s on the couch in the living area of the suite when she re-emerges from the bathroom, the TV rolling and absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. When the sliding door to the bathroom opens, he looks up to watch her.

Her hair long down her back, carefully combed out so that the soaking ends turn the fabric of her sun-worn blue t-shirt a darker shade. It’s big on her–the shirt–hangs almost long enough that you wouldn’t be able to spot the flannel shorts underneath. He can still hear the sink running in the bathroom and she’s got a toothbrush in her mouth.

He whistles when she walks back from the bedroom towards the bathroom again, and she stops in the doorway, laughs around the toothbrush and does a sweet spin. “Bellissimo,” he says, gestures a chef’s kiss and she bows dramatically.

After his shower, he finds her in the bedroom, comfortably perched against the headboard, tucked under the crisp white duvet. The only light in the place is coming from her end table lamp, casting a soft shadow on her face, her knees pulled up close while she turns the pages of a book. He hovers around his suitcase watching her, completely in her own world, the only hint of her presence on this plane being the subtle lean into the light to better illuminate the pages she turns.

It’s not the first time he’s found himself looking at her like this. She’s easy to get lost in and almost never notices him staring. She just gets so focused on the task at hand–grading papers, cooking a meal, painting her nails, watching a television show, or like tonight, reading her current library rental.

“Do you want a water?” He asks. Her eyes don’t leave the page, a subtle shake of the head before she finally mumbles a no, thank you. He navigates the dark suite to the kitchenette, finds himself a plastic water bottle in the mini-fridge, and then he’s pulling back the comforter to climb into bed with her. “So, I was thinking tomorrow–” he starts, but she cuts him off with a singular finger held in the air. He can’t help but laugh, stupid smile on his face while he watches her eyes hurriedly finish the page, dog ear the tiniest fold onto the corner.

“Sorry,” she unapologetically offers, setting the book down on the end table. “What were you saying?”

“Uh, I don’t remember,” he says, because he lost it while he tried to guess what she was reading based on the little microexpressions that crossed her face. His eyes fall to the gold chain around her neck, to the small cross that lays over the blue fabric of her shirt. He’s noticed it dozens of times, it’s constant presence in every picture, every video, every call and outfit and event. He doesn’t even think when he reaches for it, examines it with gentle fingers. “Is this a, uh…” he struggles to find the word, “how do you say, family tradition?”

“Heirloom?”

He nods, drops the piece of jewelry back to its rightful spot. “Heirloom.”

“No, it was a birthday gift,” she explains, fingers the chain of it, “from my brother when I turned eighteen.”

He nods, points out the other necklace she’s wearing, a flower with a pearl in the center. “And this?”

She laughs, “it’s silly,” she says. “It goes with these earrings I have, they’re from my parents when I graduated college.” He learns the flower is a chrysanthemum, that her dad has always called her Mum, that her mom has a particular affinity for pearls that she’s passed onto Chris, that all of these things have combined into this piece of jewelry hanging around her neck and that she cried and cried when they gifted it to her.

Because the sun is still burning, he doesn’t stop asking about the different pieces she wears until he’s run out of ones to point to. He learns the story of a ruby ring–her birthstone–that she found in a thrift store for seventy-five cents when she was fifteen, how it used to fit on her pointer finger but now it fits her ring finger, how sometimes she makes up elaborate stories of how it ended up in the bargain bin of a Goodwill in North Georgia.

She tells him about three friendship bracelets. The first and second are made by students, her favorite gifts. The third, blue and yellow–NAPA colors, her brother’s racing colors–made by her nephew. “He’s four, and he is everything annoying about my brother and everything good about my best friend, and I think I would kill someone for him.” Charles is sure that tomorrow he’ll be telling someone they wouldn’t believe the way she lights up when she talks about this kid.

When he’s run out of things to question, she’s examining the red string tied around his wrist. “What about you?” She asks, “what’s up with this guy?”

“My mate, Pierre. He learns about it from our other friend Yuki,” He explains. ��They always know the strangest things, Pierre and Yuki,” he chuckles, continues to explain the traditional symbol of good luck. “I don’t know how well it works, though,” he laughs, and she kisses him. It surprises him, but he’s in no place to complain. Perhaps the bracelet works quite well, he thinks when she moves closer, snuggles under his arm while he continues.

Three metal bracelets. One red, one silver, one stainless steel. Morse code: Amour, Bonheur, Smile. A ring that matches the bracelet. Two hex rings that track his heart rate and his sleep and a million other things.

He spins the rings while he talks, pulls them off and hands one to her without missing a beat in his sentence. She toys with it while she listens, hands it back to him with a quiet yawn. When he kisses her hair, it’s still damp and smells like the shampoo she used, something he can’t place, something he hopes eventually to memorize. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You told me that last week.”

“I know,” another kiss against the unfamiliar scent. “I meant it.”

Charles wants to order room service for breakfast. Chris shuts that idea down the minute it comes out of his mouth, furrowing her brows and making him attempt to rationalize waiting half an hour for food that’s five minutes away. He can’t, so they head to the lobby.

Chris is wearing the same shirt, pulls a pair of sweatpants over her flannel shorts and ties her hair into a messy, tangled ponytail. She’d keep it down, but her hair dried while she slept and it’s pointing in directions that defy gravity. A ponytail was the only option. Charles doesn’t change, keeps the t-shirt and shorts he slept in on.

They find Andrea in the lobby, eating at a table for two by himself. Charles pulls a chair over from a nearby table and they sit down with him. By the time Joris appears, the table is officially too full of food to comfortably function.

She hears his phone vibrate against the hard plastic of his chair, and he casually mentions that the rest of his family is on their way down.

Chris doesn’t react, not externally, anyways. She finishes what’s left in her mug, bee-lines it over to the coffee bar to make another. Absent-mindedly, she tears the foil from the creamer cups, rips open the sugar packets and stirs it all together. His mom. His mom. His mom. It’s all she can think about. His mother. The woman who gave him life. Chris knew she’d be meeting his mom this weekend, but she figured she’d have more preparation than a couple minutes warning, assumed she’d be dressed, hair styled, makeup done. That she’d be presenting herself as someone you’d be happy to have your son spend time with, not like a 7/11 customer in Dahlonega at one in the morning. Maybe Charles was right and room service was a good idea.

Even once she’s back at the table, every elevator ding makes her jump, shoots her head in the direction of the opening doors just terrified the people walking out are going to be his family.

“Are you good?” Charles asks after she flinches at the third elevator bell.

“Yup,” she lies, slaps a big, phony smile on her face and takes a sip of her coffee. His hand finds her leg, gives it a little you’ll be fine squeeze.

The next elevator is carrying his family. She instinctively straightens in her seat, moves things around the crowded table so her food looks neat and managed. Joris looks at her with concern, Charles laughs when she refolds a napkin. “Don’t laugh at me,” she whispers.

Out of earshot, Arthur says something through a stretch and a yawn. His mom rolls her eyes, pushes him in the direction of the coffee bar, mutters something to his other brother that makes him chuckle. When his mom spots Chris, she makes a bee-line for her with open arms. Chris practically trips over the leg of her chair trying to stand up before the hug reaches her.

“Come here, chérie,” she smiles. It’s warm, just like her boy’s. “I have heard so much about you.” Oh? Chris smiles, suddenly aware that she’s apparently horribly unprepared for this entire introduction. He’s telling his mother about her?

She hugs Pascale back and looks over her shoulder to Charles with wide eyes. She’s met with a matching expression, Charles shrugging and shaking his head as if to adamantly tell her he has no idea what his mom is talking about. “And what have you heard, Maman?” He asks with a laugh.

“Don’t start with me,” she says, wagging a finger at her boy, and then to Chris, “Ignore him.” She holds her at arm's length, hands on either shoulder and looks her up and down. Chris laughs, nervous but still noticeably genuine. “You are just beautiful, aren’t you?”

Well. Beautiful isn’t a word Chris would use to describe herself at this moment. Ratty, perhaps. Disheveled. Off-putting. But sure, beautiful is a word she might sometimes describe herself as. “Me?” She shakes her head, “ma’am, look at yourself.”

“Oh, please,” his mom scoffs. “Pascale.”

“Pascale.” Chris smiles, goes in for another hug.

Whether it’s because he’s a brother and not a mother, or because meeting said mother is done and over with, Chris is significantly less anxious when it comes to her introduction with Lorenzo.

Chris attempts to insist Pascale take her seat, but is out-insisted to finish her breakfast. Charles finds her hand under the table, winks at her when she interlocks her fingers with his.

– – –

Outside of their shared breakfast, Saturday is a long day apart for Chris and Charles. A quick kiss goodbye in their hotel room when Charles finishes getting ready, a quicker “good luck,” from Chris called after him on his way out the door, and a thumbs up over his head as a response summarizes their interactions for the rest of the day.

Chris works on next week’s lesson plans for a few hours, nothing better to do while she waits to leave for the track.

She watches the third practice session and quali from the grandstand across from the pitlane, and while neither are his greatest showing, Chris can feel it in her bones that everything is going to fall into place for him tomorrow. A third place start is more than good enough to beat out Perez at Red Bull. She knows it like she knows her own name, and nobody is going to tell her otherwise.

She goes back to the hotel after quali, doesn’t bother to attempt sneaking into the paddock to try and find him. It just doesn’t feel worth it–navigating a place she doesn’t know, avoiding the cameras and the reporters and the chaos–not when he’ll be coming back to the hotel, back to her.

She falls asleep moments after sitting down on the couch, and isn’t woken up until she doesn’t even know when. It’s the middle of the night, Charles tells her, guides her to bed and tucks her in like a child, complete with a kiss on the forehead.

- - -

The first words out of her mouth on Sunday morning are an apology.

When Charles tries to cut her off with a laugh and a kiss, she stops him just short of her lips, claiming morning breath. “Wow,” he feigns shock. “First you fall asleep on me, now you will not kiss me?”

She rolls her eyes, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss her. “Happy?”

He nods and kisses her again. He keeps waiting for it to not feel so exciting, so much like a stupid movie, so young, and it’s yet to reach that point. It’s not even coming close. “Yes, thank you.”

From the other side of the bathroom wall she dares to ask him if he’s nervous, if the pressure is finally manifesting itself into stress. He’s quiet for a while.

“No,” he eventually calls back.

“No?”

He peels around the doorway, messing with the collar on his team shirt. “Yes,” he admits with a scale-breaking sigh. She wishes he was as sure as himself as she is, that he could feel in his bones it is all going to work out perfectly.

“Well, I’ll be here when you’re done, and we can either celebrate Charles Leclerc, Vice World Champion,” he turns away at the title, the side profile of a smile turning the corner back into the bathroom. “Or, we can celebrate the end of an exhausting season. Either way, we’re celebrating.” He stays quiet. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he finally speaks, tone lackluster, unconfident. It’s hard to hear him like this, to hear the distinct shards of doubt that rattle in his chest. “We’re celebrating.”

We’re celebrating. Tonight is a celebration. The positives with the negatives, the good always outweighs the bad. She reminds herself like it’s a mantra. Tonight is a celebration.

- - -

Alone in the grandstands with an air of certainty about her, Chris’ bar for friendship has never been lower. She finds a group of girlfriends who appear to be sort-of, almost, kind-of, maybe in the same age demographic as she is. They speak English and don’t ignore her when she talks, and that’s enough for her to latch onto for the evening.

We like McLaren, they tell her, But those Ferrari boys–they’re cute. You can’t help but feel for them. Chris just smiles and nods, offers up a laugh and pretends she won’t be falling asleep next to one of those cute boys later tonight.

The girls–flew in from London on Friday just for this-fill her in on everything she already knows. They tell her about Charles and his fight for P2, about the strategic pitfalls of Ferrari and the fact that on paper, it was Charles’ year to win it all.

They’re more nervous during the race than Chris is, not to say that her leg isn’t bouncing watching the times constantly changing, that she isn’t whispering mumbles prayers into the air between here and there, just that she knows. She knows.

If it was possible to stare through a helmet, Chris would’ve done it during his pitstop, burning the confidence right into his frontal lobe. Her eyes are glued to his car, his helmet, distant and small and buzzing with energy. He’s got it under control, like a perfectly wrapped gift sat in his lap, like a row of monkey bars and hands hardened by months of blisters, like a first kiss and a second kiss and a third kiss. He’s got it under control.

He does, because after what feels simultaneously like the longest and shortest fifty-eight laps of her life, Chris practically has a front row seat to Charles doing donuts. She’s so happy that she thinks she might cry, not that it takes much of anything to pull a tear from her when she’s this exhausted. The girls she’d befriended jump and celebrate and cheer louder than the fireworks.

Chris tries to live the moment. To feel it all, the energy and the roar and the joy, which only makes it that much harder not to cry.

Suddenly, momentarily, irrationally emotionally, while she watches him celebrate with his family and his team in front of the whole world she wishes she was down there with him. Screw the world watching, she wants to hug him until her arms are numb and kiss him until she passes out.

There’s no telling when–or even if–she’s going to ever live through a moment like this again. It’s not one she wants to forget. In the chaos of it all, her hand finds her chest, the hard metal of her cross necklace through the fabric of her top, the pulsing of her heartbeat, loud and racing.

It’s hours before he’s back to the hotel, but it doesn’t feel late at all. He’s still running on adrenaline, just as ready to celebrate as he was when he jumped into his team’s arms. Over the mechanical shifting of the door lock, he can hear Chris’ feet echoing on the floor just on the other side and before he can even make it through the doorway she’s crashing into him. The pure energy that she is knocks him back a few steps, but then he’s hugging her back just as hard, maybe harder.

He can feel her tears soak through his shirt, and with a laugh asks if she’s crying.

“Shut up,” she says, and it only makes him laugh harder, hug tighter. God, the show he would have put on if he could’ve found her right after the race. The trouble he would make. “Oh, my god!” She sniffles, pulls her head off his chest and wipes away her tears. “Kiss me, already!”

And so he does. He kisses the shit out of her.

She pulls away with a smile, arms slinked around his neck like it belongs to her. “So, how does it feel?” She asks, “Vice World Champion, Charles Leclerc.”

He gives her a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck, shrugs, and repeats the action. “Too busy kissing the girl.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughs, drops her head so it’s against his chest and vibrates his entire being. It’s a laugh that lights stars, dances around the room like a windchime in the warm August air. The kind so distinct you could hear it across a room ten years later and still know it was her. “A walking cheeseball.”

“A cheeseball?” He humors.

“I said what I said.”

His satisfied hum says more than words ever could, fingers comfortable dancing along the bone of her hip. “We gotta get ready,” he says.

“For what?”

“The celebration.”

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landosverstappen · 3 months

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#daniel ricciardo #logan sargeant #lorenzo leclerc #lance stroll #yuki tsunoda #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #pierre gasly

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miryum · 1 year

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 5

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list (wow, that's a thing now for this): @notleclerc @sunsumonner

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, shitty parents, alcohol, and literally only the word r*pe once time, but only in a passing thought

ao3 link next chapter>>

“Salut!” The room uproariously cheered. Everyone raised their glasses towards the high table. Your smile was forced as you lifted your goblet with them and downed the wine. Charles cracked a grin of his own. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. You had seemed so reluctant, yet formal about it. Charles knew the kiss was mandatory, but you had stared at him with such sadness and hopelessness that he felt bad.

It didn’t matter now. You two were married, after all.

Still, Charles couldn’t help but dread the upcoming wedding night.

Your hand was still clutched in his and Charles couldn’t find the energy to let it go. Joined together, a symbol of how the two of you were under the law, your hands sat on the head table where your immediate families sat with you. The toasts to good health, marriage, and fertility had seemed to go on forever and Charles couldn’t get more than a few bites of food in without feeling sick.

Your mother leaned over to whisper in your ear, “smile, Y/n. You look like you’ve married the Devil. This is not the worst thing that could happen to you.”

“Isn’t it time for the first dance?” Queen Pascale smiled tightly and tapped the table sharply.

Arthur nodded and stood. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the court, I am pleased to present Prince and Princess Leclerc of Enza in their first dance as husband and wife!”

Prince Charles rose to his feet, your hand rising with him. “My lady,” he mumbled.

You fisted your dress in your hand and manoeuvred around the chairs at the high table. Prince Charles waited patiently.

As you descended the steps with your husband, the court clapped politely and cleared a space in the middle of the floor.

Prince Charles guided you to the open space where you were surrounded by people you didn’t know. Musicians softly started playing a loving, haunting tune and Prince Charles bowed to you before you returned the gesture by curtsying.

It was a customary wedding dance; you had seen it many times before, yet it was unsettling to be performing it yourself. You tried to remember all the movements. Step forward, arm out, step back, and spin. You knew that if you messed up, the court would remember it forever. Prince Charles pressed a hand to the small of your back to steady you for a twirl. Instinctively, you pulled away. He tugged you back towards him in warning.

“Do you find it interesting that Redull diplomats are here?” you asked as Prince Charles and you danced to the left and then the right.

“Are you seriously talking about foreign policy during our first dance?” Prince Charles stifled a laugh.

“What else am I to talk about?” You were genuinely confused. Wouldn’t the remainder of your life be talking about civil things that didn’t interest you, but were appropriate enough for court? Yet how would that differ from your life in Williams?

Prince Charles shrugged. “What do normal people talk about during their first dance?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Prince Charles sighed and conceded, “yes. I think it odd that Redull representatives are present. But they were invited. Every leader from every kingdom was.”

You groaned. “Are we now obligated to attend their events as well?”

“I’m afraid so,” Prince Charles couldn't suppress a chuckle. Queen Pascale and Brenda both smiled at the prince’s laugh.

“Such a pity. Why can’t Prince Lorenzo be the one to frequent their events?”

“Lorenzo takes care of the domestic affairs. I’m the face of Enza, being the spokesperson of the Leclerc’s. Arthur, being the young and cute one, often visits the villages and towns of Enza and maintains connections with the people. We all have our roles. If need be, we relay issues back to our father,” Prince Charles explained to you, still waltzing.

“I guess you’re right,” you hummed. “Arthur is the cute one.”

Prince Charles rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you think that. At least one of the Leclerc’s has your approval.”

“Not just Arthur.” You paused before adding, “your mother too.” Prince Charles laughed loudly that time, drawing the attention of the room. Nobles whispered to each other about how the princess of Williams and the prince of Enza were lucky to have found each other; a happy arranged marriage was very rare.

With one last flourish, the musicians ended their song, prompting you and Prince Charles to release hands and bow to one another. Other royals soon swarmed the dance floor and the wedding was once again full of lively chatter.

“Prince Leclerc,” a man placed a hand on Charles’ shoulder after he exited the dance floor, you still on his arm.

“Prince Verstappen,” Charles greeted Redull’s prince.

“A wonderful wedding and a wonderful bride,” Prince Verstappen congratulated Charles. “I hope for bright things in your future.”

“Yours as well. How has Redull been doing? Your father?”

“My father has been fine,” Prince Verstappen’s smile seemed forced. Charles noticed something shift in his eyes. “And Redull has been thriving. We believe our resources and trade will be expanding soon enough.”

“What are you suggesting?” Charles clenched his jaw. He didn’t like what Prince Verstappen was hinting at. The Redull’s were known for their secrecy and he thought back to Lorenzo’s warning of a Redull army on Enza borders.

“New prospects have opened up, is all.” Prince Verstappen grinned. “To the new princess of Enza,” he raised his glass towards you.

Charles placed his free hand on top of yours, nodding stoically at Prince Verstappen. You lifted a brow at Prince Charles’s non-mandatory physical contact. “Thank you,” Charles said before whisking you off to the high table. He didn’t like what Prince Verstappen was implying, especially around you. If things were to reach a boiling point, he would much rather do it when you were out of the vicinity and harms way.

“What was that about?” you asked, letting Prince Charles hand you off to your father.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I need to discuss something with my brothers, but I’m sure King L/n wouldn’t mind dancing with you?”

“Not at all!” your father said, taking your hand. “I’ve been looking forward to dancing with my newlywed daughter.”

Charles instantly noticed a change in your demeanour. Keeping your head and eyes lowered, you shrunk into yourself while dancing with your father. Your lips hardly moved when answering his questions, and you only allowed yourself the customary touch. Charles wasn’t sure, but he would expect a daughter to be more loving and embrace her father.

He would talk to you about it later.

“Lorenzo, Arthur,” he found his brothers conversing with a small group of Enza’s lords and advisors, all with tunics or jackets sporting Enza colours. The group bombarded Charles with congratulations but he quickly brushed them off, not before letting a small, genuine smile push into his features.

“You’re not happy on your wedding day?!” a knight, Daniel, cried out.

“Yes, I’m very happy,” Charles said with a bit more truth than he would ever admit. “But I’m more concerned with Redull right now.”

“What happened?” A lord, Carlos, asked.

“Prince Verstappen…” Charles trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his words. “Prince Verstappen was bragging about Redull’s trade expansion. Do we have any information about that? On what they could possibly be planning?”

“Mate,” his best friend, Pierre, clapped him on the back. “You shouldn’t be worrying about that shit tonight. Give it a week or two and I’m sure it’ll all be sorted out. If it’s not, then we’ll worry about it.”

“Alright, yeah,” Charles conceded.

“Now go rescue your wife,” Daniel pushed him towards the dance floor. “I’m not sure a bride should look so nervous.”

Indeed, you were anxious. All you wanted to do was find your siblings and leave the stuffy, overcrowded room full of people intent on speaking with you.

When you spotted Brenda and Ralph across the floor, you were relieved. So, when Prince Charles swooped in and gently grabbed your arm, you were less than pleased.

“Yes?” your tone had an under layer of unnecessary harshness. You marched on, focusing on the end goal of your sister and brother. Prince Charles quickly matched your pace to follow.

“I wanted to see how you were faring. It seems like quite a few lords and ladies want to get on the good side of the princess of Enza.”

“They should know it’s fruitless.”

“Wow,” Charles smirked. “Not letting people into your circle, are you?”

You scoffed. “My circle consists of me. I hate to disappoint, but the moment I crossed the border, everyone else I trusted evaporated.”

Charles frowned and said, “you didn’t want to come here.” It wasn’t a question.

“If that wasn’t clear, then maybe I should avoid you more.”

“We promised to be hospitable to one another!” Charles protested, trying to keep his voice low so prying ears wouldn’t pick up the potential gossip like vultures looking for their next meal. “I’ve held up my end of the bargain, yet you’ve let your end fall.”

“Every couple has their lovers quarrels,” you finally caught the eye of your brother, silently signalling for aid.

Charles, at an unusual loss for words, watched helplessly as Ralph whisked you away to the dance floor. Your brother whispered something in your ear and you engaged him in fervent conversation.

“You’ll treat her well?” Brenda appeared at his side. Charles jumped slightly before taking a glass of wine from a passing servant and swallowing it in one gulp.

“Of course,” Charles muttered. He was tired of people asking him that. Did they expect him to be a heartless monster that beat or raped you? He was going to make sure you were happy; albeit that being as far as he went. If you were unable to meet him halfway, Charles was more than inclined to ignore you.

“And you’ll visit her?” Brenda pressed her lips to her own wine glass.

“Pardon?” Charles glanced over at your sister, brows furrowing.

“Visit her,” Brenda repeated. “At the Villa?”

“What villa? What are you going on about?”

“Oh, shit.” Brenda sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I hadn’t realised she hadn’t told you yet. Forget this ever happened. I’m sure Y/n will inform you soon. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Princess Brenda,” Charles said. “Is this something I should be aware of?”

“These are not my details to disclose.” Brenda lifted her goblet in goodbye.

What was she talking about? Charles wondered. Visiting you? Were you leaving? He was unaware of a trip you had scheduled, and that was something he thought he should know about. Before he could go question you, however, a bell tolled loudly, signalling it to be ten o’clock.

Internally, he cursed as every member of the court in his vicinity turned to stare at him. Seeing as every activity had stopped, he easily found you in the crowd. As Charles walked towards you, he noted your sunken eyes and the way the grip on your brother tightened.

“Princess,” he murmured, offering his arm. You took it without a word.

“Good luck,” Ralph whispered. You looked back and offered a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

As you and Prince Charles exited the room to a loud ovation, you wanted to sigh heavily. It was odd enough that the guests continued partying while you and the Prince consummated the marriage; it was weirder that they knew about it.

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r4ikkonen · 1 year

Note

Hello, I really look forward to your nsfw a-z, could you please write about Lorenzo Leclerc too? Thank you in advance

NSFW ALPHABET | LORENZO LECLERC

A/N Hi!!Thank you for the request, I don’t know much about Enzo but I hope this one would be fine!Enjoy 🤍💙

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Lorenzo is the sweetest guy ever.Always making sure that you’re feeling well.He’s your biggest supporter ever, so it’s not a surprise that he gives you princess treatment at all times.Even after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Enzo thinks that he’s gifted with his beautiful brown hair.He loves styling it.And of course it’s his favorite body part.He’d love your fingers.Sometimes he would play with them and hold your hands.It’s his way of entertaining you and him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves cuming inside of your mouth.He loves the view.. Seeing you so desperate for him with just cum dripping from your mouth makes him even hornier.Sometimes he would cum aside or on your stomach.He is very careful because he doesn’t want you to accidentally get pregnant.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Lorenzo likes keeping a pair of your underwear with him.When he’s traveling you would put your panties in his luggage so he can have a little bit of fun for himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Lorenzo always has patience for you and he is always there to experience.He isn’t experienced as much as you would have thought.He has only been with two girls before you and he finally feels safe and ready to experience something more with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he loves missionary.. You guys change up to few positions during sex but missionary is his favorite position.He loves looking how hot you get.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Lorenzo always has time to drop in some jokes during sex he isn’t very serious.Overall sex is all about having fun, right?He always makes sure both of you have fun with each other.So nothing is too pushy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Lorenzo Has quite a few hair down there and he is not ashamed of it.He would usually trim it a little bit so it doesn’t look like a nest.Anyway he doesn’t care if you have something there but as any guy he prefers you shaved.However he would never tell you when it’s time to shave/wax.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Intimacy is very important to him and he isn’t ashamed to show it in public.Even if it’s just holding hands or locking arms with each other.Enzo always tries to show you how romantic he is.He often surprises you with an expensive piece of jewelry or a bouquet full of your favorite flowers.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Lorenzo almost nevers jacks off.He thinks that it’s pointless because you’re not there to help him please himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He isn’t kinky as much but he has a toy kink.Basically he adores when you use him.He loves seeing you play with him like he is some kind of a toy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Other than his luxury apartment in Monaco, he loves having sex on his yacht.The atmosphere is amazing there.Both of you there with the beautiful look on the sea getting hot and naughty.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Lorenzo is the one that comes up to you first.He gets turned on when he sees your bare legs.He can’t stop himself from touching you so he always makes some small gestures to get you going.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Enzo is a gentleman like any Leclerc brother and hes thaught that the woman always needs to be respected.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Lorenzo doesn’t eat you out that often but he enjoys when you give him a proper blowjob.You love sucking him and making him groan and moan your name so you tease him by doing that.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Many guys his age tend to get too rough and fast.He is very polite and he doesn’t want to hurt you so he keeps his pace nice and easy.He isn’t that slow but he is considered to not go so fast and hard on you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

When you’re up for it you would let him know by kissing his neck and stuff like that.You love quickies and you don’t mind having sex on the most random places.He is always up for it.He doesn’t give a shit if someone finds you guys fucking the hell out of each other.He thinks that it’s all part of the nature.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Lorenzo doesn’t like risks, he’s scared for the worst.He would never bring up something that could be harmful to you or to him.He is a very classic guy when it comes to sex.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He doesn’t mind stopping when you want him to but he can stay for a very long time.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Enzo is up for some toys if you want it.He knows that you have some in the bottom drawer next to the bed to use when he’s away.If you guys have time to experience he would suggest to try some out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Lorenzo might look like a nice and sweet guy like he actually is but he can tease you and he can be very mean sometimes.He won’t give you what you want for some time before you do something for him.He can be quite manipulative during sex.But it’s his way of playing with you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lorenzo tends to get vocal.He. would often whisper something in french and you would have no idea what he’s talking about.He loves it when you scream his name when you’re close to finishing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

It was Arthur’s birthday and Lorenzo decided to take you with him because they were having a family dinner.You weren’t quite focused on the people because your boyfriend (Lorenzo) was wearing a wonderful beige suit.You kept biting your lip hoping that you won’t get wet while he’s drinking his wine and looking like a God.He stretched his arm to hug you from behind while you were sitting next to each other.He was completely calm and he was talking to the other guests at the table.You felt his fingers inside of you.You spilled your wine on the table from joy.Thankfully noone noticed but he kept on teasing you until your dress was wet.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Lorenzo has an 6incher and he is quite pleased with it like you are.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Lorenzo isn’t a maniac and his sex drive isn’t so high.It’s very average he can get turned on fast and last long.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends.He can fall asleep pretty quick if he lays on your chest or if you guys are cuddling with each other.

#formula 1 #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 smut #formula one #max verstappen #carlos sainz #f1 #ferrari #red bull f1 #f1 fanfic #fanfic #lorenzo #lorenzo leclerc

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norrisleclercf1 · 3 months

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I hear you wanted a dad blurb

Pleaseeeee can you do smt with Elijah x Lorenzo getting into trouble together

A/N: Lorenzo and Elijah together is very dangerous

"This is so stupid, and when we get caught Uncle Lando and Uncle Charles are going to kill us." Lorenzo whispers, Elijah waving him off as they sneak through the paddock, late at night.

"Dude, don't you want to get it? If we don't, we lose Truth or Dare. And I refuse to lose to Charlotte Verstappen." Elijah growls and Lorenzo rolls his eyes. Grabbing the back of Elijah's shirt and pulling him back as the guard walks past them. "How about you pay attention, so we don't get caught. Papi would kill me if we got caught doing this." Lorenzo groans as they sneak towards the Red Bull garage.

"Listen, Uncle Max retired when we were 17. Why the hell do they carry that around?" Elijah whispers as they stop looking around and go in through the back door. "I don't know, all I know is Red Bull asked to keep Max's first WDC. Now, let's get in there, grab it and return before we get caught." Lorenzo opens the door.

Both boys flinch hearing the door creak as they head to the office and pray that the door isn't locked. "Who the hell leaves the office door locked?" Elijah grumbles but stops remembering his Papa was the last out of the office.

"Seriously?" "Listen, just shut up." Lorenzo rolls his eyes as they stand up and stare at the trophy behind the desk. "Woah," Both boys stare at awe of the WDC trophy. "Do you think I could ever be as great as my dad's?" Elijah asks, at 19 he wanted nothing more than to have the career that Lando and Charles have.

"Okay, now is not the time to get mushy, Eli. Grab the fucking trophy." Lorenzo smacks the younger head who grumbles and picks it up. "Damn, it's heavy, how'd Uncle Max lift this thing up?" "It was quite easy when you're filled with adrenaline." A voice says behind them.

"Lo?" "Yeah, Eli?" "There's not a chance, that Uncle Max is behind us, is there?" Lorenzo turns slightly and see the broad build of Uncle Max. "Eli?" "Yeah, Lo?" "It's Uncle Max." They turn around quick and stare as Max stares at them with a smirk.

"You honestly thought my little girl wouldn't have told me what you two were doing?" Elijah opens his mouth but closes it seeing his Dad behind him glaring. "Hey, Dad." "Hey Uncle Lando." Lorenzo waves, but stops seeing the seriously pissed off look.

-------------------

"I can not, believe you two? Stealing Max's original, first WDC. Do you have any idea how disrespectful and wrong that is?" Carlos snaps, and Lorenzo curls in on himself. "Uncle Carlos, please it was just a stupid game." Elijah explains but Charles cuts him a sharp look.

"I told them it was a bad idea Daddy." Charlotte smiles, and Elijah seriously thought about drowning her in this moment. "Oh fuck off Charlotte, you're the one who dared us anyways!' Lorenzo snaps, and Charlotte scuffs. "Why would I do that? I'm not deliquents like you." "That's it!" Elijah lunges but Lorenzo pulls him back as Charlotte sticks out her tongue.

"Hey! Enough!" Lando snaps and the kids fall quiet. It was an unwritten rule to never piss off Lando. He was the soft one, but if you got him mad enough, you'd never see light again. "Dad?" Everyone turns seeing the youngest Verstappen. "Ivan? What is it?" Max asks, pulling his son in.

"Charlotte totally dared the guys to go and steal your trophy. She knew that you'd and Uncle Lando would be stopping by because Uncle Charles always leaves his extra rings on the desk. So she set the whole thing up to get them trouble since they beat her at last weeks truth or dare." Ivan explains and Lorenzo has never been happier that he gives that kid a ride in their cars all the time.

"Really now?" Max turns and Charlotte shrinks in on herself. "Boys?" Carlos asks and they look up at him, as he nods his head to the door. "Get out of here. And don't think about touching that WDC until you've won it. Got it?" "Yes Sir!"

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #lando norris imagine #max verstappen imagine #carlos sainz imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #our boy series #lorenzo and carlos

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natailiatulls07 · 9 months

Text

Drive to survive

Charles Leclerc & leclerc!driver!reader

Summary - Netflix's drive to survive interviews Y/n and Charles Leclerc about something that caused immense issues

Warning - Cheating, car crash, panic attack, fire, crying, swearing and self doubt

Reader drives for Ferrari

Purple is flashbacks

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"Hello, I'm Y/n Leclerc. I'm 24 years old and I race for Ferrari alongside my twin brother, Charles Leclerc" I sat in the seat just in front of the camera, my anxiety throw the roof. My last season had ended on a bad note, with some personal troubles effecting my focus on track.

The producer settled herself down just to the side of the camera with a hand full of questions and topics that we would talk through for Netflix. "How are you feeling right now?"

Taking a deep breath in and out before answering. "yeah..I think I'm good. but yet I guess I'll have to be" A nervous chuckle left my lips which earned me a look of sympathy from the producer.

Looking down at her paper, she prepared herself to ask the first question. "So how do you feel after your ending last year?" Her voice calm and collected, as if she wanted me to feel that energy, this was what I was grateful for.

It took me a second of debating, debating my answer. "Um yeah, I mean it was a hard time obviously...I had some personal problems regarding my relationship and unfortunately that had its effect on my performance" A pause to think over my answer. "Of course I should not have um let that effect my performance, which I am greatly disappointed at myself for"

Walking into my appartment, I noticed the absence of Theo in the open plan kitchen lounge. I searched further into the appartment. Thats where I saw Theo in my bed with another girl.

Tears were welling up in my eyes, I had been dating him since I was just twenty but yet he decided to throw that away for some girl. "What the fuck?!" Shock, betrayal and heartbreak. Thats all I felt.

That night I kicked him and his sidechick out of my appartment, wanting to see nothing of them ever again. Luckily my three brothers were coming round that evening. So when they saw me, cheeks burned with tears, they knew something happened.

It was the last grand prix of the season, Abu Dhabi, I was sat in p4 just awaiting for the five red lights to flash away. My head was clogged with that day, the day I got heartbroken. "Radio check, radio check" My race engineers voice came through my headset.

"Loud and clear..." Voice low and weary as I replied.

"Y/n...you can do it, just forget and clear your mind" He knew of my heartache, heck everyone knew, wanting nothing more for me to end the season on a high note.

That race was my worst race to date. I didn't finish it. It was the Abu Dhabi race where I crashed, the Abu Dhabi race where I just sat by my burning car tangled up in a panic attack. I couldn't control my breathing or my mind.

Not my finest hour, in my opinion it was my very worse.

Looking down at my lap, I could see my leg persistantly bumping up and down. It was hard to talk about that time. "What was your first instinct to your crash?" The producer asked her next question.

Once again my mind was casted back to that night. "Well um I remember that after I got out of my car, I couldn't stop crying and I couldn't control my breathing. I was having a panic attack and I just couldn't calm myself down"

It was loud. I could hear the safety team trying to calm down the fire. I could hear fans watching on from the sidelines. I could hear my race engineer trying to calm me down through my headset. I felt like I was moving away from the real world every second.

My mind couldn't focus on one thing. I felt the warmth of the fire on my body. I felt the hands of a safety team member trying to bring me back down to earth.

When Charles heard the red flag through his radio, his mind went straight to Y/n. Where was Y/n? Is Y/n okay? Growing up Charles grew more and more protective of his twin.

So when he saw her car and herself not in attendance of the Ferrari, he became even the more distressed. But when he saw the crash on the large television screen, he set off run towards it much to the team dismay.

Charles ran until he reached the burn car. He saw her sat there curled up in her arms.

"Bébé bébé peux-tu m'entendre? Je suis là, souffle souffle écoute mon coeur" He pulled her into himself, moving her head to rest just above his heart. Wanting her to hear his heartbeat and copy it.

Charles knew of her panic attacks, he watched them grow worse and worse as they grew up. But he always knew how to help her, calm her down and breath.

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari

"How did you feel when you saw your teammate and sister crash and then have a panic attack?" The producer asked the 25 year old Ferrari driver.

His eyes downcasted, that night was his nightmare. "I remember feeling um this sense of terror fill me when I saw her crash. Aside from being my teammate at Ferrari, Y/n is my twinsister. She's has always had her panic attacks but that night..." Charles felt his eye water up even at the thought.

"That night was the worst panic attack she has ever had, I don't think I'll recover from that night" Standing up from his chair, Charles walked away from the camera. Tears flooding down his cheeks.

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"It was only when Charles came that I started to come back down to earth. It's always when he comes that I come back." It was always Charles who helped me through my panic attacks.

Charles. He has been my rock ever since forever. He had been my rock when times got rough and tough. Before each race checking on me and everyday checking on me. He knew how hard I was taking my breakup and just wanted to help me through that.

Once again, I took in another deep breath, trying to distance myself from that night. "So 2023, how are you feeling about returning to Ferrari with Charles by your side?" The producer continued.

A small smile made its way to my face. "Yeah um I'm excited of course. I love racing, I love getting behind that wheel and fighting for a place on the podium, fighting for first place" Nodding my head, with approval of my comment.

"Well thank you so much for talking with us today, I know it's hard to talk about something like that" The camera were cut off, we both stood up from our seats.

Walking out of the studio, I felt a sense of relief and solace fall on my shoulders. This replacing the deep sorrow and disappointment.

I heard my appartment door open and close. Walking into the kitchen lounge, Charles had a proud smile on his face. "Whats got you smile like that?" I laughed at my confusion, Charles joining in with my amused laughter.

"Lucy, your manager, just called me and she told me about your interview with Netflix today...I'm so proud of you baby sis" His tears cloud his waterline whilst tears of my own clouded my own.

Finally, I had gotten over my anxiety and my regret. I could breath again.

#formula one #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #x sister reader #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #lorenzo leclerc #pascale leclerc #f1 #formula one x y/n #lando norris #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton #george russell #yuki tsunoda #fernando alonso #carlos sainz

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smoothoper44tor · 2 months

Text

Tu foto en blanco y negro. charles leclerc x malereader

Fran no odiaba a Charles, en absoluto. El problema era su jodida apariencia, el hombre era una copia exacta de Jules y aquello le molestaba de todas las maneras posible, era vomitivo. Un recuerdo constante de que Jules ya no estaba.

Capítulo uno

❝Big brother I wanna be just like you❞

La muerte de Jules Bianchi había conmocionado al mundo. Fran apenas rondaba los dieciséis cuando vio el marussia rojo estrellarse ferozmente. El corazón le latía con fuerza y su estómago era un amasijo de nervios.

Daniel fue lo primero que rondó su mente, y en el mismo momento la realidad le azotó como el más imponente cinturón; su hermano estaba en la otra punta del mundo, en un coche que corría a velocidades extraordinarias jugando a ser dioses.

A Jules se le había escapado la vida en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, y Danny, a pesar de lo que quisiera demostrar, no era ningún dios, no era especial. En cualquier momento, por cualquier estupidez, podía dar su último suspiro y ni siquiera él lo sabría con certeza. Siempre había estado tensando esa cuerda, pero nunca se es realmente consciente de las circunstancias hasta que la cuerda asfixiaba a alguien, y ese alguien estaba mucho más cerca de lo que aparentaba.

Junto a Jules murió su risa, y su estúpido acento francés, la infinidad de veces que Daniel y él se habían quedado en casa cuando estaban en el Fórmula Medicine, todos los cumpleaños que aguardaba su presencia risueña, las visitas ocasionales que hacía para verlos en los karts. Todo se había desvanecido en cuestión de segundos, y ahora Jules sólo era un fantasma sin rostro que vagaba por los pasillos de su casa.

+ graphics

#charles leclerc #leclerc #arthur leclerc #lorenzo zurzolo #carlos sainz #f1 #formula 1 #sebastian vettel #male reader #charles leclerc x male reader #enemies to lovers #fckbuddies to lovers #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #cl16

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purfectstormzz · 9 months

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Red (Taylor’s version) | Carlos Sainz Jr

Everything you need to know before you start reading!

Summary: the love story of y/n Leclerc and Carlos Sainz.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!Leclerc!reader

The characters:

Name: Y/n Leclerc (twin sister of Charles Leclerc)

Age: 25

Job: Mercedes driver

Relationship status: Secretly dating Carlos Sainz

Nationality: Monégasque

Name: Valerie Bates

Age: 23

Job: Red bull driver

Relationship status: Situationship with Lando Norris

Nationality: American

Name: Alina Santos

Age: 33

Job: Ferrari driver

Relationship status: Married

Nationality: Portuguese

Name: Carlos Sainz Jr

Age: 29

Job: Ferrari driver

Relationship status: secretly dating Y/n Leclerc

Nationality: Spanish

Name: Charles Leclerc

Age: 25

Job: Ferrari driver

Relationship status: Dating

Nationality: Monégasque

Arthur and Lorenzo Leclerc

And the rest of the grid

Masterlist

I knew you were trouble

The moment I knew

Red

The last time

Begin again

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #arthur leclerc #lorenzo leclerc #Carlos Sainz x leclerc!reader #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lando norris #formula 1 #social media au #secret relationship #george russell #mercedes #ferrari

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sheswanderlust-txt · 1 year

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Me? Creating fictional drama in the off-season because we don't have enough of it irl? You can bet.

#charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #formula 1 #f1 #fic #pierre gasly #norman nato #lorenzo leclerc #arthur leclerc #andrea ferrari #sebastian vettel #carlos sainz #lewis hamilton #antonio fuoco

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mickyschumacher · 7 months

Note

can i request something for carlos sainz x leclerc!reader on vacation?there’s such a soft spot in me for summer vacation carlos like in a beach setting or on a yacht. it can be soft or smutty it doesn’t matter i just love summery carlos. thank you!!!

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐈 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: while the leclercs maybe spending their summer vacation at home, you opted for a secret vacation in santorini with your secret boyfriend, carlos sainz. or in which you are secretly dating your brother's teammate.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), unprotected sex (if you're gonna slip, slop, slap, you must wrap your willy!), reader dob in 1999, dating in secret trope!, sainz & leclerc = google translated spanish & french ._., ig the reader has a shaved downstairs?, p in v, teasing, oral sex, lovey dovey smut?, poor humour, breastplay, fingering, cumming inside, bit of overstimulation for the reader, scandal and swift references, love confessions.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!carlos sainz x younger leclerc!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: firm agree on the summery carlos! is it really my writing if i don't get santorini involved? anyways, hope this was up to your standards! sorry for the long wait! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

Dating your brother's teammate was never on your bucket list. Hell, you tried to stay away from Formula 1. Well, as much as Leclerc could anyways.

People older than you weren't really your type. You opted for people near your age. That way there wasn't an awkward generation gap and there was no one that reminded you of your older brothers. Carlos was only five years older than you but the generational gap was most certainly there.

Men your age were... well, boys.

Men Carlos' age were men but also men.

You had seen Carlos at races before. And he was an attractive man, obviously. But that was that. You passed each other down the paddock, barely giving each other a glance. And not to mention the obvious, you were far too young for him at the time.

But then Ferrari's first car launch after signing Carlos had happened.

You had seen Carlos more in the few hours the event lasted than the past few years. You didn't know what it was. Whether you were unintentionally stalking him or vice versa. What you did know, however, he was definitely eyeing you.

By the time Charles had introduced you, Arthur, Lorenzo, and your mother, Carlos was trying to keep his interest at bay, pretending to be as family-friendly as possible.

Carlos ended up catching you as you came out of the bathroom, smoothly asking for your number. And as much as you wanted to give it to him, you weren't going to be easy. You were a Leclerc for crying out loud.

If Carlos wanted you, he would have to earn you.

And boy did he try.

You had heard from several people and the Internet that Carlos was a hardcore romantic. You never thought about it up until he started pulling out all the stops.

He was attentive as hell, remembering your favourite drinks, slipping you a new book to read as he talked to Charles, purposely linking his pinky with yours as discreetly as he could just so he could see you flush in front of him, sending you clothes for you to wear to his races to your apartment...

Carlos was menace.

But somewhere along the line, he became your menace.

You and Carlos were the epitome of the saying 'Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours'.

Keeping it secret... sure it was frustrating at times. The both of you had person after person trying to get with you because, well, you were a Leclerc and he was Carlos Sainz. Carlos had managed to draw a line by telling people he had a girlfriend but he didn't want to reveal her.

Yeah... it didn't settle well with the grid, in particular the three gossipers of the grid: Pierre, Lando, and your brother.

But after all the little bumps in the road, it was smooth sailing.

Most of the time you spent time together was alone, just the two of you. That way, there was no risk of being caught and you could revel in each other.

Of course, it wasn't that easy. Nothing was easy with you and Carlos, especially given that you couldn't keep your hands off of one another. Carlos a slight more than you because you had the decency and fear of embarrassment of getting caught by anyone. Carlos, on the other hand, was as indecent as they come. Hands always looking for an excuse to touch you, eyes travelling to find you first in any room, sending dirty texts when you sat across him... like you said, he was a menace.

To make things easier for yourself, for this summer break, you and Carlos had picked trusty Santorini as a romantic getaway, taking his dog Piñon as a welcomed third wheeler. Filled with so many tourists that you and Carlos would look like any regular couple there.

"Now this is a summer break," You breathed out, walking on to the yacht you had rented out for your stay in Greece. The air was clean and crisp, the sun was already beating down on you despite it being nine in the morning, and the translucent blue waters brought you a sense of familiarity that Monaco held.

"Don't you agree, Piñon?" You cooed to the soft ball of white curled up into your arms. A small bark of agreement came from the dog, tail wagging in happiness.

Carlos chuckled behind you, putting down your bags on the deck, under the shade. His thick arms enveloped your waist, bringing you closer to him. Nestling his chin into your shoulder, he said, "That's good, hermosa (beautiful). Now try saying it in Spanish."

You made a face at his teasing tone. Pulling yourself out of his grasp, you turned towards him. "Ahora son unas vacaciones de verano. ¿No estás de acuerdo, mi querido Carlos?" You recreated the same coaxing tone you had given Piñon to your lover, pinching his cheek with the energy of an overly endearing mother. Now this is a summer break. Don't you agree, my dear Carlos?

Carlos gave you a pointed look. You were teasing him. You knew he liked when you spoke Spanish because it was cute to see you fumble over the words but it also meant a lot to him that you were trying.

You rolled your eyes at his reaction and settled Piñon on the deck after making sure it wasn't too hot for those small paws of his. You watched him trot around the yacht, carefully examining his surrounding to test his boundaries.

Satisfied that Piñon was safe, you turned back to Carlos. "Brunch?"

"Brunch..." Carlos trailed off, hand reaching out to your face. The soft pad of his thumb graze your lips, gently pulling on your bottom lip to watch it bounce back. "...or brunch?" He asked, voice heavy with a clear need.

Your body thrived with an eagerness to respond to his touch. Goosebumps were the paint to the canvas of your skin, littering each part of you even though you were impossibly warm in the sun. You really wanted brunch. But your stomach wanted brunch. Instead, you simply nodded to him, agreeing with the answer he had never said. "You're right. Food is very important."

Carlos groaned at your response. "Hermosa," He sighed out, bringing his arms around your waist to pull you close yet again. "I want you," He murmured against your skin, nose brushing against your cheek and hot breath wandering down your neck.

Carlos could feel you smile at his words. "And you have me... for two whole weeks," You reminded him, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.

Carlos curled his lip in annoyance at your reminder while he revelled in your touch. "I could have you for four," He also reminded you.

You sighed. You hadn't seen him in three weeks because life had it's mysterious ways of making the both of you busy. You wanted nothing more than a month with Carlos. But it was far too suspicious.

You had barely convinced your mother and your brothers that you were going to Santorini for a 'self-exploration' trip. Charles had immediately offered to turn it into a family trip but you managed to settle him down by saying you would spend the last two weeks with them. Alexandra had been a sweetheart in the matter as well. She was the only one, as well as Kika and Lily, that had known about you and Carlos, claiming they sensed it from 'a mile away'.

What they truly meant was that Carlos wouldn't stop eye-fucking you from a far.

"It's okay," You mumbled woefully, patting his chest softly, "I'll be with you in spirit while you reign Madrid."

Carlos held in his eye roll at your theatrics, you had a flair for them. "I wish you would reign Madrid with me instead. I want you to meet the family, let me finally teach you golf, go to the holiday house with me, hmm?" He implored, chocolate brown flickering to search yours.

The pain behind your eyes made him feel frustrated. He knew how much you wanted to do that because you wanted the same thing with your family. "How 'bout I call Charles, hmm? I'm sure he'll understand."

The thought of Charles finding out from anyone but you made you shudder. Would he understand? What was so understandable about hiding the fact you were dating his teammate for over a year, especially over a call?

Arthur, amongst Charles and Lorenzo, would probably be the most hurt. You and him told each other everything. You guys were the closest in age, similar to how Lorenzo and Charles were. Hell, you even helped him confess and get with Carla. And he was waiting to do the same for you, with some he trusted and knew.

And Lorenzo? It was really for the best if he didn't know from Carlos. He had initially told you not to get too close to any of the drivers because he was worried for you and well, the reputation of F1 drivers and dating wasn't too great. But you were quite sure that anything you and Carlos did had crossed the line of 'too close'. '

"Carlos, mi amor, I love you, but I think the idea of brunch, not brunch, is more understanding."

━━━━━━━━━━━

After your brunch, you had spent some time reading to Carlos inside the yacht, not wanting to get into the water just after you had eaten nor wanting to go out when the sunshine was at it's peak.

It was serene.

The windows were open, letting a cool breeze come and help reduce the heat and you were both sprawled on the soft mattresses that served as sofas on the floor of the yacht. The calmness and peace you had desired amongst the chaos life and F1 brought.

You were half sure that Carlos was close to falling asleep in your lap, but not by your retelling of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, after Carlos refused to see Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen for the sixth time this year, but by the way your combed your hand through his hair as you read. (Although you were still going to be persistent because the concept of seeing those two on screen in Santorini out of all places was a need, not a want).

"Carlos, mon beau (my handsome), you're going to fall asleep. Let's go swimming," You told him, placing your bookmark in between the pages and closing the book.

Carlos groaned, looking up at you. He held your hand close to his chest. "No, it's way too hot. Don't you see the water? It looks like lava."

You narrowed your eyes. "That precisely why we should go swimming. We can't just sit here and mope around. We're in Santorini... we need to stand up and move around."

Carlos lifted his head from your lap, sitting straight so he faced you. You let out a quick yelp when he pulled you forward, placing you onto his lap, legs straddling him. "I can think about fifty ways to stand up and move around... in fifty different positions."

You could feel your thighs involuntarily clench around him. You know he felt it to. You gasped at his words and shook your head. "You are a heathen, Carlos Sainz. A barbarian... a hooligan, a sexually-driven simpleton must I continue?"

"Well, I recall you loving this heathen, infidel, barbarian, and hooligan," Carlos shrugged, warm hands inching up the white sundress you had worn this morning. The action sent a shudder down your spine.

"Carlos," You mumbled, already falling into a state where you were losing the words to speak your thoughts as Carlos kneaded the flesh of your thighs with his rough hands.

"Yes?" Those puppy brown eyes flickered to your eyes while he brought his mouth to your thighs, opting to graze your heated skin with the teeth. "Tell me what you want, hermosa. And I'll give it to you."

You faltered at his words. His gaze was heavy with a dark blaze that sent your stomach churning. You allowed yourself to fully straddle Carlos' lap, teeth sinking into your bottom lip when you felt Carlos' clothed bulge press into your core.

Carlos struggled to prevent a strained hiss escape his gritted teeth, his grip on your thighs tightening, your flesh escaping the confines of his hands. Fuck, were your thighs so enticing to Carlos. He wanted to bite them and bruise them so even weeks later, they were covered in the reminiscents of him.

"What do you want, baby? Please tell me," Carlos begged, eyes desperately searching your own for any sign or indication of what you wanted.

You felt your core clench at the plea falling from Carlos' plump lips. You hadn't even really done anything but he was ready to serve you. Everything was foggy. You couldn't think straight. "I want... I want you, Carlos. Fuck, anything, everything... I–make love to me. Show me how much you love me."

His roaming hands came to a halt. "Mierda (shit)," Carlos cursed, bringing his tongue to swipe his bottom lip.

He could do that. He would love you so much that the entirety of Santorini would know and no one would even question your relationship with him.

Carlos brought his hands to your back, feeling the numerous strings of your dress against the pads of his fingers. One hand worked to undo the very knots he had done this morning while the other creeped up the back of your neck, pulling your head closer to his.

He brought his lips to yours, pressing them with an indescribable urgency. Your hands shot out to his chest, fisting the soft material of the polo you had chosen for him into a small bundle.

You gasped into the kiss, feeling a sudden breeze of cold air as the strings of your dress fell flat against your skin. Carlos' hands wandered down the surface of your back, coming to a stop at your waist.

The urge to get even closer to you coursed through Carlos' veins, pulling you flush against him. A moan fell from his swollen lips as you parted to fill the craving of some oxygen. Your pussy was pressed tight against his cock and your breasts were soft, pushed against his chest.

Carlos ventured to move his lips down the side of your jaw, edging towards your barren neck, aching to decorate you with aging and unique shades of purple and blue.

You let out a series of sinful whimpers upon the feeling of your skin being sucked at, feeding directly into his constrained cock. "Carlos..." You moaned out, eyes shut in pure pleasure, "They'll know. The–They'll ask q-questions."

"I know." You shivered as you feel him grin against your skin.

You watched him through your half-lidded eyes, moving up from your neck to look at you with his blistering gaze. With one simple movement, he took off his shirt, revealing his taut golden skin. Christ.

You sat still breathlessly on his lap as Carlos peeled off your dress, pulling your arms through the white material. The cool breeze trickled over your bare breasts, nipples hardening almost instantly.

Carlos let a warm hand rest over your rib, lifting you gently to remove your dress fully. He sighed, laying you down on the mattress. The tips of his fingers travelled from your neck and down the valley of your breasts, the hairs of your body standing straight at his touch.

"You know what it is a tragedy, hermosa?" Carlos queried, watching you quiver underneath him, chest heavily rising up and down.

He smiled at your asking through your eyes because the words just couldn't come out of your throat. "You will never see yourself the way I see you. Eres una sirena... obra de Dios. If He didn't put you on this Earth that would've been his biggest sin." You are a siren… God's work.

If your throat wasn't tied up before, it surely was now. You looked at him with a soft gaze, watching him come near you to press his lips on your own. You whimpered, feeling his hands travel towards your breasts, fondling your mounds with a cautious roughness that sent your stomach tingling.

You frowned at the loss of his lips but the complaint subsided upon the feel of his hot tongue swirling around your pebbled nipple. He paid attention to every flick and every crevice, keeping his deep eyes trained on you. He smiled at your hiss as he purposely grazed his teeth against your nipple.

Carlos removed his lips from your nipple, moving his head back to hover over your pussy. Still keeping his eyes on you, you watched in silence as the hot saliva fell from his lips, bubbly strings landing directly onto your glistening folds. Fucking hell.

"Eyes on me, baby," He told you, looking at your clenched eyes.

Your eyes shot open as Carlos took one long stripe of your folds, your hips bucking at the sudden sensation. Lingering a second too long on your clit, his tongue continued to work up towards your stomach and the valley of your breasts, returning his attention to your other nipple.

Your mouth fell open, feeling his fingers rub your wet folds, spreading his saliva around your pussy. While his tongue worked your nipple, he thrusted a thick finger into your walls. With your eyes rolling back, you attempted to fist the thick material of the mattress but to no avail.

"Fuckk, Carlos," You whimpered, writhing at his touch.

"Finally found your words, hmm?" Carlos teased, adding another finger into his torturous slow pace. His eyes were glued to watching your hips out of his periphery, snapping up to try and ride his fingers. As laboured breaths fell from your lips, he pushed his digits even further, aiming to reach a specific spot.

Smoothly, Carlos grabbed a nearby pillow, putting it under your lower back to bring you some comfort and a whole new level of pleasure. He stared at your face intently: your mouth had fallen wide open with a ghost whisper of his name flowing into the air, sweat glistened over your flushed face, pooling near the edges of your hair and neck, and your lips were swollen with the prettiest shade of red he had ever seen.

"Carlos," You managed to get out with your brain practically turning into jelly. "Carlos, please, I don't want to cum like this. I need your cock, please."

Carlos' cock throbbed at your pleas. "Your wish is my command, princesa."

Hearing your whines upon the loss of his fingers, Carlos took off his blue shorts faster than he had ever done in his life.

Even though you had been with Carlos sexually for a while, your cheeks still flamed when you saw his cock. Not out of embarrassment or unadulterated innocence. No. It was outright heat that was getting to you.

Every time you saw his cock, it was a violent shade of red, throbbing and aching, leaving Carlos begging to be touched by you.

You watched as Carlos leaned forward, hovering over you. It was beyond you how exactly pretty Carlos was. You hadn't realised until he started courting you. You had no idea how you were supposed to live without seeing his thicket of brown locks, his freckles that could only be depicted if you were close to him otherwise they blended with his prickly stubble, the smug smile he constantly wore to hide himself, and especially his big brown eyes that made you bend to his command.

"Carlos?" You softly called out.

Carlos' ears perked up at your gentle tone. He smiled down at you with raised brows. His hands continued to travel your body, retracing every curve and fold as he had committed to his memory. "Sí, mi hermosa?"

You ran a hand through his hair before caressing his cheek. God, he was your beautiful boy. "Je t'aime plus que tu ne peux l'imaginer." I love you more than you can imagine.

You knew he didn't speak French despite spending this many years with Charles but it often comes from you naturally when you were too caught up in your feelings.

"Je ne pense pas que ce soit le cas. You don't know how my every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can't breathe without you. Every race, I hope you're there waiting for me because you're pretending to wait for Charles. Hermosa, I exist for you. No one else." I don't think you do.

Your eyes widened, fresh tears lining your waterline. "You understood–you learned French?" You whispered, voice barely audible.

Carlos grinned. "I'm quite sure I said a lot of after that but yes, I did learn French for you... surprise!"

You suppressed the urge to push him off of you and gave him a long kiss. Pulling back, you laughed gently. "You're an idiot... making me cry during sex. And not even in the good way!" You feigned your complaint.

"Well, we still have tonight and thirteen more days. Today I'm just showing how much I love you," He whispered above your lips, hips lining up with yours.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling Carlos' cock brush past your folds. You both moaned in unison as he pushed his cock into your pussy. Your walls wrapped around his cock tightly, gripping him like a vice.

Carlos cursed several profanities under his breath, head lolling back while pleasure coursed through his body. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you up to sit on his lap. His cock ached at the high-pitched mewl that fell from your swollen lips.

His hands fell to your hips, holding you tightly, slowly shifting you up and down his length, burying his cock in you.

You closed your eyes, letting your forehead rest on Carlos'. You can feel him staring at you, taking all of you in: every hue of your flushed state, your eyelashes riddled with tears and sweat, the heavenly and sinful sounds from your lips, and your greased hair.

"You are breathtaking," Carlos whispered against you.

You smiled, opening your eyes to meet his and rolling your hips slowly in response. "You make me feel so good," You praised.

A rough moan was elicited from Carlos, throat tight and choked up from your words and actions. He could barely function seeing your bare pussy take his cock so well, let alone how the tip of his cock throbbed when he lifted you up. His own eyes were beginning to shut as he revelled in the ecstasy you brought hip.

Fuck, you were so wet. You looked down at your thighs, seeing the obscene sheen of your arousal coat spread to Carlos' thighs. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, hips snapping to create a rhythm.

"Carlos, I, fuck," You blabbered in complete disarray. You were beginning to seem the edges of a familiar white light.

Although Carlos appreciated the sign, he could tell by the way you were clenched so tightly around his cock, getting his cock to pulsate every few seconds, that you were going to come.

He moved his hands between your legs, watching you sink over his cock one more time before he obstructed the view by using his thumb to rub your clit in circles.

"Mierda," Carlos cussed, feeling you grip his cock even further if it was possible. "Cum for me, mi amor."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You repeated the expletive as if it were a mantra, hips bucking as white clouded your vision. You let out a loud moan, body shaking as waves of your climax hit you one after the other.

Not a second later, Carlos was cumming too. His hips rutted against yours in almost an unrecognisable desperation, the peak of his ecstasy right within his grasp. His cock pulsed while his hips came to a falter, stuttering as ropes of his white cum spilled into you, warming your walls.

"F-Fuck," Carlos groaned, feeling your pussy clamp around him, trying to take every last drop of his cum.

You feel Carlos slump forward into you, exhausted. Gently, you lifted yourself off of his cock, wincing at your sensitivity. You fell straight onto the mattress, panting heavily.

"Shit!" You yelped as Carlos pushed some of his leaking come back into and circle your clit. You shook at the mini aftermath of your orgasm before calming back down.

"Satisfied?" You nudged Carlos playfully, knowing damn well Carlos liked to go the extra mile when it came to you.

"Very," Carlos commented, reaching his arms out to bring you closer to him.

You sighed, resting your head on his chest. The exhaustion was very quickly seeping into the both of you. Carlos' heartbeat was beginning to work as a lullaby and Carlos had found your warmth far more comforting than any mattress or duvet.

"Hermosa," He called, making you hum for you had no energy to speak. "We need to tell them."

You found yourself trying to open your eyes. When had they closed? You turned to face him, chin resting on his heated torso. You pressed a brief kiss and said, "I know. Let's tell them in a few days. So they have at least a week to yell at me."

Carlos frowned at your words. "I'll be right there with you. You know that right? I'm not letting you do this alone."

You smiled after letting out a small yawn. "I know, I know. I'm grateful. Thank you, mi amor."

Carlos returned the gesture, kissing your forehead gently. He rubbed your shoulders, feeling the dark abyss of slumber slowly call to him. "Anything for you, hermosa."

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