#carlos suspenders

[artemispt]

LONG HAIR AND SUSPENDERS 🫠

[artemispt]

Maybe the suspenders reminded him racing harnesses 👀

carlossainz55 💪🏼Training camp pt.1

[meightyone]

to me carcar is about you, your teammate who your team lords as their golden boy even though you sincerely don't give a fuck about him and occasionally pray on his downfall, and some guy who is, on top of being a bit annoying in his own right, annoyingly rather fond of your golden boy teammate. and then there's also HIS golden boy teammate who YOU are rather fond of. it's the kind of relationship which is actually about a third party. and it's the kind of situation where someone is for sure going to die

[8xlewis]

[post-hungary monopoly]

carlos: *moves his dog* a-ha! I got your house.

lando: that's not how it works.

carlos: ?

lando: you died. go back to the start.

oscar: that's not how you play 🤦‍♂️

lando: how do you play then, mr. monopoly expert?

oscar: carlos has to pay you rent now.

lando: ohhhhh 😏

alex, as if to himself: do you not go to jail?

carlos, lando & oscar: NO!!

daniel, in the corner: *giggling*

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

I mean maybe i’m just too sensible… but i’d argue that if 5 cars had bad accidents and caused red flags… that maybe these aren’t safe conditions… but…

[janesurlife]

The Spanish prince

[lonestardust]

CURRENTLY DYING AND ASCENDING TO TARLOS HEAVEN

[trkstrnd]

incoherent screaming

[the-perfect-scientist]

Time to send your Halloween M!A so it's not forgotten!

M!A: For the month of October, Carlos and Angie are both Danny Phantom style ghosts!

"Ah, careful Angie!"

"Yay!"

[astonmartinii]

the king of monza can do what he wants | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem alonso!reader

the king of monza can win the race, have his relationship exposed and challenge his soon-to-be father-in-law to a duel, he can do what he wants.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

oscarpiastri

liked by olliebearman, danielricciardo and 432,095 others

tagged: lilyzneimer, yourusername, charles_leclerc

oscarpiastri: double header means we crashed on my adoptive parents' couch and forced them to cook for me (only y/n, obviously)

view all comments

user1: does he know this isn't his private account?

user2: SHUSH DON'T TELL HIM

user3: we need to enjoy this while it lasts

jackdoohan: oscar, there's still time to delete this

oscarpiastri: why would i delete this?

oscarpiastri: oh

oscarpiastri: oh no

jackdoohan: you might want to warn your kinda dad you've exposed the identity of your kinda mum as your kinda grandad is probably putting out a hit on him as we speak

fernandoalo_oficial: don't call me a grandad 👿🤬😡😠💢😤

jackdoohan: OSCAR QUICK HE'S DISCOVERED EMOJIS HE MUST BE REALLY MAD

user4: fernando, are you okay?

fernandoalo_oficial: i want that frenchies head on a stick

charles_leclerc: i am monegasque!

fernandoalo_oficial: so you do actually want to die?

yourusername: okay let's calm down old man

fernandoalo_oficial: SILENCE I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! THAT'S THE MAN?

yourusername: yes!

fernandoalo_oficial: no.

charles_leclerc: i object!

lancestroll: his eye hasn't stopped twitching since

charles_leclerc: i don't care! he might be crazy but I'M IN LOVE SO BRING IT OLD MAN

user5: wtf have i woken up to this morning

user6: the public execution of the prince of monaco

yourusername: just because he has a samurai tattoo doesn't mean he knows how to use a sword

fernandoalo_oficial: i will tear him apart with my bare hands

user7: i fear this comment section alone has undone all of his funky grandad tiktok PR

user8: he's going to make charles cry in the press conference

yourusername: oh well, charlie is hot when he cries

user9: and how do you know that...

yourusername: that's none of your business 😈

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 2,312,088 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: italy has my heart and so do you <3

view all comments

user11: queen got exposed and immediately started flexing her unbelievably sexy bf

yourusername: why wouldn't i? he's so damn FINE

charles_leclerc: teehee (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

user12: you might as well have told me to kill myself

fernandoalo_oficial: enjoy your weekend charles, it will be your last

charles_leclerc: and if i win? i think suspended sentence?

fernandoalo_oficial: @carlossainz55 i have a proposition for you

yourusername: why are we acting like he wouldn't do that for free

carlossainz55: excuse me?

yourusername: i'm calling you a jealous bitch xx

carlossainz55: what is your price nando?

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm not fucking paying you, i was assuming you'd do it in a jealous rage anyway

carlossainz55: ???

user13: the way carlos is being jumped from both sides unprovoked

user14: which ever alonso it is, they choose violence

oscarpiastri: so ... am i off the hook yet?

yourusername: you know we can't say no to you

fernandoalo_oficial: oscar you might actually be my favourite now, thank you for bringing this to my attention

oscarpiastri: sure i'll take it!

charles_leclerc: you can have my heart and everything else for as long as you want

yourusername: looks like you'll never get it back ;)

charles_leclerc: that's fine by me if i get to spend it with you

yourusername: i love you :P

charles_leclerc: i love you more ( > 〰 < )♡

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by jensonbutton, aussiegrit and 1,209,566 others

fernandoalo_oficial: cash prize for anyone who can actually track down this little rat - i just want to talk i swear

view all comments

user15: it's official everyone, he's gone crazy

user16: as crazy as he is at least he's bringing the DRAMA 🤩

yourusername: this isn't very peace and love of you

fernandoalo_oficial: that has never been the way in this family

fernandoalo_oficial: but let me make this clear, i mean in a destroy all of your enemies way rather than a jos verstappen way

maxverstappen1: ???

yourusername: destroying our enemies does not mean you can do your best jos verstappen impression and drive your aston martin into charles

fernandoalo_oficial: don't be stupid y/n, the aston martin is too slow, i'm going to steal his brakes

yourusername: and how will you do that boomer

fernandoalo_oficial: ferrari are stupid they probably still haven't changed the passwords or locks since i left

yourusername: @scuderiaferrari excuse me???

scuderiaferrari: ....

user17: so like this is a genuine hit?

user18: mob boss!fernando alonso you are so special to me

user19: sorry charles but it's so sexy

charles_leclerc: drop the address senor i'm not scared of you

lancestroll: he brought the samurai sword btw

yourusername: @f1 DO YOU PEOPLE HAVE ANY SECURITY MEASURES ???

f1: it made a good tiktok 👍

yourusername: you people are useless

charles_leclerc: no worries my love it's all under control

fernandoalo_oficial: i will carve you like a christmas turkey

yourusername: you go anywhere near charles with that sword we're both going romeo and juliet style

user20: what on earth is going on

user21: just smile and wave i think we're watching collective hysteria

f1

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 3,562,778 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

f1: CHARLES LECLERC WINS FOR FERRARI AT MONZA

view all comments

user23: bro heard fernando was gonna steal his brakes and simply just drove so fast he didn't need them

user24: he was like 'oh you want my head on a stick? TRY AND CATCH ME'

yourusername: pretty boy is so so talented it's not fair

yourusername: who am i kidding

yourusername: STUNT ON THOSE HOES I LOVE YOU BABY

charles_leclerc: thank you baby, i simply had to drive so fast so i could give you a kiss

charles_leclerc: and also so i could tell your dad to SUCK ON THAT OLD MAN

user25: he's had too much champagne and might actually get himself killed

user26: i will throw myself in front of that sword for him

yourusername: you and me too buddy - i'll cover your drinks for this evening

fernandoalo_oficial: i still want him dead

charles_leclerc: what the fuck do you want from me? i just won? did you see that freak of an orange car? i look after your daughter like i looked after those tyres

yourusername: so romantic 🤭

fernandoalo_oficial: he just compared you to tyres? have some standards i raised you better?

yourusername: believe me, i do have standards - he's special xx

fernandoalo_oficial: i also won monza with ferrari he's not that special

user27: at least he's stopped with the samurai sword talk?

user28: he did say he still wants him dead though

maxverstappen1: @yourusername why couldn't you have dated lando? would've made this championship a lot easier

landonorris: HUH?

yourusername: please refer to my previous comment about standards

charles_leclerc: hehehehehe

landonorris: HUH???

charles_leclerc

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 4,523,099 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: grazie mille tifosi !! this is for you and all of your support. i'm glad my family and my love were here to see this win as well. fernando, bring your sword, i'll fight for your daughter's hand.

view all comments

user29: i love this family and i've known them a week

user30: fernando might have to go through me as well at this point

yourusername: i love you so much and you have deserved this and more for so so long xx

charles_leclerc: i couldn't do it without you (and our weird little grid family)

yourusername: you're my favourite person in the world and i just love to see you happy

charles_leclerc: you make me the happiest man in the world

yourusername: i love you

charles_leclerc: i love you too

user31: as cute as all this is ^^ where is this duel

user32: can someone PLEASE STREAM IT !!!!! I WILL PAY

user33: I NEED IT I NEED IT

fernandoalo_oficial: come outside

lancestroll: he spent all of the debrief sharpening the sword btw

charles_leclerc: i'm ready girlypop

fernandoalo_oficial: GIRLYPOP ???

yourusername: PEACE AND LOVE BOZO

maxverstappen1: can we get this show on the road please?

lewishamilton: charles please hurry up i've got some serious cash on this tussle

yourusername: how much we talking?

charles_leclerc: i might die and you're checking the wager?

yourusername: because i have faith in you !!!!

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, fernandoalo_oficial and 2,136,344 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: he's alive and he's a winner! the king of monza can do what he wants

view all comments

user35: prince of monaco? king of monza? bro is collecting titles

yourusername: my husband next 🤞🏻

charles_leclerc: bet

user36: is ANYONE GOING TO TELL US WHAT HAPPENED IN THE DUEL

georgerussell63: it was extremely unprofessional and there will be an extensive powerpoint covering how this won't happen again

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll fight you next time george

user37: don't go off TOPIC

charles_leclerc: i out strategised him lol

oscarpiastri: what he means is that he surprised fernando from behind and wouldn't stop hugging him until he agreed that he wouldn't skewer him like a kebab

charles_leclerc: and it worked! now look he's on my boat giving me his blessing

user38: you're telling me charles hugged his way out of the conflict?

user39: perhaps the most babygirl he's ever been

user40: we need the pictures SHOW IT TO ME RACHEL

fernandoalo_oficial: fine, i guess he's okay. i'm not calling him the king of monza though

yourusername: i knew you'd come around

fernandoalo_oficial: i love my daughter SORRY

yourusername: don't lie to me you only calmed down and accepted it because i called in the reinforcements

user41: i'm crying she called babysitters for her dad

yourusername: jenson and mark, idk how you deal with him

jensonbutton: the stress of him and his antics keep me skinny

aussiegrit: i think we're all trauma bonded

charles_leclerc: i'll be the king of monza, if you'll be my queen

charles_leclerc: and i will continue to do what i want

yourusername: i'll be your queen anywhere you want

yourusername: and if doing what you want includes fighting my dad... let's turn it down a lil

charles_leclerc: for you, i'll do anything

fin.

note: here yall go - this was in my drafts half done from monza weekend but life got crazy

[rmd-writes]

Literally the first thing I thought about when I saw the suspenders except that…

TK didn’t wait til the end of the night, it’s obvious from the stills that they’ve lost their bow ties somewhere between the ceremony and reception and you cannot tell me that TK didn’t haul Carlos into some room by the suspenders after Nancy promised to buy them some time (“you’re so gross, go be gross somewhere else, dude, I’ll cover for you” when she sees the way TK is eating Carlos up with his eyes and has his hands underneath the suspenders) only to untie his bow tie, undo his shirt and slide the suspenders down his shoulders and drop to his knees, looking up at the most beautiful sight of his husband staring down at him, love and lust in his eyes as TK’s lips are stretched around him.

Elsewhere at the venue, Andrea has noticed that they’re missing and is asking everyone if they’ve seen her sons. Nancy ropes Marjan into helping her, except Grace and Tommy notice the shenanigans and sigh heavily. It’s Tommy who knocks on the door because everyone else refuses to, “TK don’t make me come in there but if you two aren’t out here in two minutes, I will get someone to break down this door because Andrea is on a rampage about starting this reception on time.”

They exit, bow ties lost to the floor of wherever they were, glowing and unable to stop smiling stupidly at each other.

Paul holds his hand out to Marjan who slips him $5 because Paul won the bet about how long it would take for TK and Carlos to sneak off and get busy at the wedding.

don’t think about TK sliding those suspenders off of Carlos’ shoulders at the end of the night… don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t—

[guardian-angle22]

[katiascraft]

✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

chapter one: “love is short but forgetting is so long” -> chapter two

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

book tittle: "right where you left me"

author: y/n y/ln.

sinopsis: Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? While time moved on for everyone else, she stayed trapped in a single moment, lost in a fantasy of what could have been. She’s still 23, clinging to the life she thought she’d have, the one where everything was “just right.”

This is the story of a woman living in delusion, unable to let go of the exact moment her world fell apart. Breakups happen every day, but for her, it was more than that. Sitting cross-legged at a restaurant table, under the dim light, across from him, everything felt perfect—until he said, “I met someone else.” The shatter of glass on the white tablecloth marked the death of their love, but not the end of her story.

While everyone else moved on, she stayed behind. In that restaurant, in that moment, with those words echoing in her mind, her heart suspended in a “forever” that never came.

A poignant romance about heartbreak, grief, and the lives we leave behind when we can’t move forward. If you ever wonder if you got it all wrong, remember:

“I’m right where you left me. You left me no choice but to stay here forever.”

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

word count: +5k.

BLOG MASTERLIST - series masterlist

⋆˚࿔ Ten years ago 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You were wearing your favorite flower dress Charles gifted you for your year anniversary last year. He always said you looked the prettiest on it. So you decided to wear it for this date. Charles told you he needed to tell you something and you prepared mentally for an engagement ring or something. Or like he would propose to you to live together. You couldn't think of anything else. You were happy.

He held your hand while the waiter guided you both to your reserved table next to the window. It was your favorite. It wasn't the first time you came, it was your go to restaurant. You even had your first date here. 

The restaurant was inspired to be like a flower shop mixed with a coffee shop. It developed to be a fancy restaurant in monte carlo. Your apartment was two blocks away so you were a regular client alongside charles. 

You were so proud of him and every single accomplishment in his last year. He was finally becoming an F1 driver. Your heart is exploding with happiness for him. You admired how determined he always was about his dreams. 

You sat on the table in front of each other. The waiter made sure you were comfy and left the menu for you to check. You grabbed it starting to read it, not noticing charles behaviour wasn't normal. His body language was unusual. He seemed uncomfortable, stressed. He cleared his throat making you look at him and have your attention. You left the menu over the table to give him your 100% of attention.it was summer so you had your hair up in a pin and charles was wearing a plain white t shirt that always looked so precious on him. 

Your eyes had question marks all over them expecting to hear what he wanted to say. There was a soft smile on yours but Charles wasn't smiling, on the contrary, he was looking down at the white tablecloth. You frowned when he took so much time to say anything. He noticed so he looked at you.

“I met someone else” he said and you felt like cold ice water was sprayed straight to you. His hands sweaty showed anxiety creeping and your face went white. You just couldn't move for a few seconds.

“W-what?” That was the only thing you could say at the moment. It was like your brain went dead in the instant it heard him saying those words. I met someone else. Four words. It took only four words to break your whole reality in a million pieces so tiny you thought it was impossible you could live properly anymore. Your mouth went dry. His eyes were cloaked on you expecting something else out of you. But how could he? He saw how you broke down there and then in front of his eyes, how confusion and heartache took over you with just four words. 

Those damn four words you won't ever forget. They will haunt you for the rest of your life. You just knew. 

There were a few minutes of silence. Really painful silence. You didn't know what to do. You didn't even know if you wanted to know more about it or just run away from here. You looked down at your dress. Tears creeping to stream down your face.charles out of desperation and discomfort talked again.

“I met someone else. I don't love you anymore, and before doing something stupid, I just wanted to tell you first” his words coming out of his mouth at the same time the waiter was laying your white wine glasses on the table. When he bheard what Charles said, he tripped and smashed the glass on the floor next to your table. You exalted. Charles got really nervous about it for some reason. You looked at him. The mess helped you to snap out of your bubble you were drowning alive.

“What happens to everything we build together, then?” he didn't have an answer for your question. Your tears started streaming down your face alongside your not waterproof mascara. The waiter apologised when he ended up cleaning, uncomfortable hearing two strangers break up in front of him. Charles licked his lips nervously and shook his head lost in what to answer. 

“Guess, it doesn't matter now” his words cut through your skin like daggers. 

You were waiting for him to propose something beautiful together. You believed you were the love of his life. He told you that everyday. Then one day to another, he found someone better. 

“Is it because I'm not pretty enough for your new status life?” you needed to find a reason even if it was the stupidest one. You just couldn't live without one for this terrible outcome of your life. It was the end. 

It was the fucking end.

He denied with his head not looking at you. He couldn't. And he also couldn't believe he fell in love with someone else while you were there the whole time. He knew this was the right thing to do for both of you. But he didn't even understand what happened. Why did he stop loving you? He had no clue. The only thing he knew is that he loved alexandra, not you. Alexandra made him feel something he had never felt for you as much as it hurt him to admit it. Because he cared about it, he cared a lot.  Even though it seemed like he didn't because he didn't love you like that anymore. 

“I’m sorry, y/n” that was all he had left to say. He didn't want to make you confused. He didn't want to lie to you. You didn't deserve that. Honesty was the least he could offer you after all of these years together. 

You couldn't understand properly what he was saying at this point. You didn't understand why he would invite you for a date when he wanted to break up. Why he didn't say anything yesterday or the day before, or the other. Just, why? What did you do wrong? Wasn't your love enough? You gave him your all. Are you a problem? Probably. So beautiful to think someone was leaning on their knees to ask you something beautiful then hear “you would’ve been such a lovely bride. What a shame she’s fucked in the head”. He found someone better than you. More beautiful. Even more intelligent and interesting for sure. 

You gasped at his words. Your chest aches and your hands are shaky. He felt terrible seeing you like that but he had to be strong and do the right thing. 

“It’s better i go, goodbye y/n” he didn't know what to say nor he wanted to stay any longer. It was all too much for him. 

You watched him leave the restaurant. He was leaving with everything you once were and now you're nothing at all. You watched everyone looking at you, there, left alone and a mess. Unloved and unimportant. You felt they stared at you forever, because it felt like it. 

What were just a few minutes for the rest of humanity, it felt like centuries for you. You were stuck there on a loop hearing his words and watching him leave, again and again, and again for eternity. 

You froze there, lost and empty.

Everyone moved on but you didn't. 

How could you?

⋆˚࿔ Ten years later 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You were at your office in your beach house in monte carlo. You were writing your second book. And yeah, so much happened since you last seen charles.

Of course, the aftermath of it all was terrible on your side. You fell into a depression you didn't know it could be real to experience. The emptiness you felt was immense. Also, your self esteem was destroyed and that was the hardest part to build back up again. You went to therapy two times a week. There were so many things you didn't understand. It was really hard for you to cope with the pain by yourself. Your best friend, agostina, moved in with you. She travelled from New York and left her life behind so she could be there for you. She was an Italian teacher so she could get a job pretty fast and that comforted you. You felt guilty and ashamed of your situation. You just felt like a fucking problem to everyone.  

You had started journaling by the time your friend pointed out something that would change your life forever. 

Monaco’s weather was the prettiest. Autumn it’s really beautiful up here. You were seated on your lounge chair by the pool. Your friend sat next to you leaving two cups of tea on the tiny table between you two. The morning was your favorite time of the day, because you had the habit of writing down everything you felt about anything and everything. Your friend knew it so she just accompanied you through it. She knew it was part of the process and she just wanted to be there for you, always. As she always did since you were kids back in london. 

The words stormed out of you straight to the paper like lighting. You were writing fast every single word you heard. And after a few moments when you finally stopped writing, you would read your words out loud to process them. 

“Okay, hear me out. Are you ready” you asked your friend so she could join you in the process and debate about your thoughts and feelings. That always helped you out so much. She nodded, taking a sip from his tea cup.

“Alright” you adjusted yourself comfier on the chair moving to face her and grabbed your journal better. “Maybe we got lost in translation or maybe I asked for too much. Or maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you tore it all up. Running scared, I was there. I remember it all too well. And you call me up just to break me like a promise. So casually cruel in the name of being honest. And now I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here. Time won't fly. It's like im paralyzed by it. I’d like to be my old self, but I'm still trying to find it after `plaid shirt days and nights where you made me your own. Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone. Because there we are again when I loved you so, back before we lost the one real thing you’ve ever known. It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well” your voice was soft and low. When you finished your friend stayed silent analyzing your words.

“Have you ever considered becoming a writer? Because that, what you wrote, was beautiful y/N” she told you. Her words sinked in you. Maybe you should. You write a lot, so you can try and if you fail you stick to your translator job as you do now. Something fliked inside you. What could go wrong?

And to be fair, the rest is history. You started your journey as a writer and it was not easy  but all of the heartache you carried helped to write the story of your life. Not like, actually, but it did indeed change your life forever. 

Your first book was called “all too well” and under any expectation, it became a best seller worldwide. You were a best seller author now and a pretty famous one. Your novel broke selling records. It made you tour the world, getting to know so many people and signing so many copies of it. And then, you started being so happy. Your suffering became the art so many people appreciated. Unlike Charles, you were important to them, and they cared about your words, your feelings, and your vision. You now have helped someone with your book. As it helped you get through the life you thought you would have with him.

He got married, you saw him on the news one morning while baking cinnamon rolls for your nephews that came to visit. He was a 3 time world champion in formula one and one of the most adored drivers. An icon in fashion and now a businessman. To be fair, it was all you would have dreamed for him. So at some point you were happy for him. At least he achieved everything he dreamed of. And he had a beautiful wife, she was an artist. Sometimes you pass through her gallery to see what new piece she created. She didn't know you, of course. No one knew about you except for Charles' family. His brothers knew. Hisparents knew you.but you were a buried secret to that family. You heard from a friend of a friend it was a pretty big shock when charles told them he was already someone else the next they he dumped you. I mean, you were shocked as well. You thought it wasn't possible for someone to move on that quick. But you couldn't judge him. You were so young. He didn't know better. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you showed up to a race one day. Would he pretend he doesn't know who you are? Would he pretend you never existed? One part of you, hoped he would fall in love with you again. Just Like the first time. And that he regretted leaving you behind. But reality was way  more complicated. Though, you were offered by Mercedes and McLaren to join a few races since you became a recognized figure to the world. You also wondered if Charles knew about it. If he saw you in the news as you did. If he read your book. If he felt the way you felt. If he believed you described him right or wrong. If he missed you sometimes. If he dreamed of you. If he was waiting to find you again and do it all over again. But just the right way this time. Forever.

⋆˚࿔ present day 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

yourusername made a post

Liked by agostinabff, arthurleclerc, alexandramsaintlux and others

yourusername: happy 5 year anniversary of your fav book!! It’s “all too well” birthday (and season!) and to celebrate I am so thrilled and happy to announce all too well it’s actually a MOVIE ON THE MAKING!!! kept this secret for way too long, but now you know and I can’t believe it’s actually reality! Special thanks to my bestie who from day one told me to become a writer and look where we are now. Thank you all so much for reading 💌 don’t forget to bake cinnamon rolls and wear your red scarfs and lipstick! 🍂🧣🤎

tagged: universalpictures, alltoowellthenovel, alltoowellthemovie

View more comments

user345: OMG FINALLY FINALLY 😭

user89: I don’t know how to feel about I just hope it’s good please

agostinabff: always with you beautiful and talented soul. We are so proud of you, me and Benjamin, Renato and Dante love you 🤎 ready with our red scarfs come pick us up!

↳ yourusername: I love you my family 🥹 omw 🤎

user234: I really want to know who broke her heart this deep to write a masterpiece like all too well is

↳ user234: GIRL exactly like I ache for her

↳ user79: I would be dead if I had to live something like that

user123: just between us, did the love affair maim you too? 😭😭😭😭

↳ user21: you kept me like a secret but i kept you like an oath 😭

universalpictures: we remember it all too well 🤎❤️

↳ user34: thank you for this it’s amazingggg

user411: can’t wait

arthurleclerc: congrats y/n! waiting for it such a great book!

↳ user673: what are you doing here darling????

↳ user1: didn’t know racing drivers read romantic books

↳ user76: now you became more perfect than perfect 😍

↳ user7923: suss

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“La Dernière Fleur” looked so much different from where you and Charles broke up.  It was now a cafeteria. And a really cute one. You loved coming here to write your following book. Up to now, you were gonna tell the story you had with Charles, everything. You needed to finally let go of him. Let go of the past. And finally, move on. 

You sat at your regular table for the last three months. Your computer and notebook on the table. You were surrounded by papers with so many notes on them and coffee cups. Your hair up in a pin and your reading glasses on. Your red hair looked shiny thanks to the sun reflecting on it coming though the window. Everybody knew you there and felt honoured that you chose that place to write your next best seller. They always gifted you their exquisite lemon cinnamon roll. It was your favorite. They made you feel really special and you were really grateful about it. 

Your next novel will be called “right where you left me” and for you it was a great idea to go back to the place where it all started.

The first day you came you almost threw up out of anxiety. It was hard to remember it all. But the second day around you could actually think of the storyline and write down some notes. And that’s how it all started three months ago.

In other news, your book was so successful, it was going to become a movie in two years. How crazy is that? You accomplished so much in all these years. Sometimes you had to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming.

It was autumn, your favorite season of the year. Wearing sweaters and scarfs and red lipstick. Everything was perfect. It made life feel so much more romantic. You loved taking your nephews to the beach and running in circles, then making a war of the leaves at the park. Agostina had 3 beautiful boys with her husband Andrew. She never doubted you’d be the best aunt in the world for her children so she moved her whole family to Monaco and life was beautiful. 

Yes, it's surprising you never saw Charles again but you lived on the opposite corner of monaco. And you both travelled so much during the year. And also, you didn't like going out so much so no, you didn't go to parties where you could find him. 

Now 10 years later, you’re 32 and realized you missed your whole life waiting for him. So this book was a goodbye to him. And a hello to your new life. You wanted to find someone, trust in them, and have a family. That was always your plan. But it got twisted along the way. But it is what it is, life’s sometimes a bitch and destiny likes to play its part in a cruel way. but maybe it was for the better. Maybe someone amazing was about to come your way. 

You took a sip from the coffee cup, malena, the waitress left for you a few moments away. You couldn't actually swallow the drink, because through the door you saw a person coming in who you would have never expected to see again unless it was on tv. 

You almost choked when a 35 year old charles, your charles (well, not anymore for sure); got into the coffee shop with a few friends laughing out loud. Hearing his laughter sent shivers down your spine. 

You felt frozen in that moment, the same way you felt the day he left you behind, alone.

You swallowed the drink in your mouth the best way you could. And left the cup on the table carefully. You looked down at your notes realizing you have been writing his name on the edge of the page. Like doodling. You felt stupid and just broke the paper gently so you wouldn't disturb anyone or catch someone’s attention you for sure didn't want right now. Your heart was racing and your hands were sweating. You started to feel hot due to anxiety of the not expected encounter with him here. And you guessed you felt like this, also because you knew he was single again and your delusion could make you believe that maybe you have another chance with him. You really didn't want to feed it. You need to move on as soon as possible. You could keep going in circles in this rabbit hole you're trapped in for so many years now.  

When you looked back up again you felt you almost faint.  There he was, charles fucking leclerc smiling at you shily while his friends were talking. You recognized a few of them. One was Carlos for sure. They all looked so different. Charles looked different but as pretty as he’s always been. His smile made you panic to say the least. You couldn't smile at him back. All he received was your eyes looking away to a moment after start grabbing your things to get the fuck out that coffee cursed shop. And that’s what you did.  Once you collected all of your things and left money to pay for everything, you sprinted out of that shop to your car. You never left a place so quickly. Anybody watching would think you were escaping from something or someone. and in fact, you were. you were scapingfrom the guy who broke you in so many ways.

Charles came back from a paddle match with his friends. They decided to have some food in the nearest place from the court there was. That was the place where he ruined his life. Or that was the way he liked to call it. Because he dumped the best girl he ever met. But he didn't know better back then. He was a dickhead for sure. And because he knew she deserves someone that knew her value not like him, he really tried to make it work with Alex all of those years. But he couldn't anymore because it showed. It was obvious even if he pretended that he really loved her the way he loved his past girlfriend. He felt stupid above anything to be honest.

The guys chose the place and he had to agreed. He didn't  want to tell them the story though Carlos knew about it and he always said it wasn't cursed and that what happened in the past should stay in the past. And he knew he was right but he couldn't quite actually move on completely from it. Because he missed you. He slept with a lot of women, tried to date a few after his divorce. He tried to find you in every body he could touch. But none of them felt like your skin. Even if they had the same hair, or eyes, none of them had your smile. The one he loved to see every morning he woke up.

They got into the cafe. It looked pretty different from what he remembered. And he remembered it all too well. He won't ever forget how everybody turned to look at him walking away leaving that poor girl crying, alone and with her heart broken. He was so selfish. Maybe too manly for his liking. He was an asshole to say the least. And he knew it. He won't ever deny it. but He likes to think he learnt from it. 

His breathing stopped when while taking a seat and listening to Carlos talk about how next year he was gonna work in the Ferrari team on strategy, he saw you. The girl he had nightmares with and his most lovely dreams. All he could do was smile. You looked so different yet so beautiful. He realized he had never seen you this beautiful from what he can remember. You dont look like in the pictures of your times together he keeps on a google photos cloud. But you didn't smile back at him. That made him feel an ache in his heart for some reason. Not that he would see you ever again he guessed. He observed every single moment you did until he couldn't see you anymore. He was left feeling confused but tried to play it cool so the guys wouldn't catch him. He felt weird for the rest of the day. He couldn't stop seeing your face looking him straight in the eyes. what was your life now? were you married? were you single? he knew you were a writer but even if he thought he wouldnt see you again, he wanted to know. he wanted to know you. Were you as miserable as him?

When you got into your car you started breathing heavily hearing his loud laugh in your head repeating like a broken record. You felt scared. Why now? Why now that you really need to move on? Why is it gotta be now that he shows up in your life again?

You just drove home trying to make yourself believe it was a dream. He wasn't real. He didn't walk into the same coffee shop he broke up with you. He didn't smile at you. You didn't stare at him for a few microseconds. That moment didn't exist. 

You were hallucinating, you guessed. 

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Chapter two: here.

tag list: @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136

author's note: alrightyyyyy, i thought this would be just one part but then i had so many ideas that it will turn into a series! so feedback is very welcome!!

i just really hope you like it as much as i like this idea!

i'm already working in part two so stay tuned i will update you in these next few days <3

thank you all so much for reading and supporting my work, mwak mwak, you are amazing!

Don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

[forteafy]

You Think, You Know | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Some bridges are due to burn, whilst others are destined to mend. Charles wants to lead you into a traditional happily-ever-after, whilst Carlos is still adamant that he can always treat you better. Part 3 of ‘A House, A Home.’

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: angst, shouting, a lot of swearing, mentions of cheating and divorce. SMUT. Non-protected sex, oral (M&F receiving,) squirting, degradation, aftercare always.

Note: Thank you all so, SO much for being so patient with me. I really wanted this to be something special and I hope you all enjoy it. Please don't get mad at me because this one is emotional. A massive thank you to my biggest cheerleaders, @oconso, @formulaforza, @a-distantdreamer & @silverstonesainz - I love you all so much.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

You loved your sleep.

There was never too much that could wake you from your slumber. Currently, with the combined sensations of crisp sheets tucked across your frame, soft sunlight drawing through the transparent curtains of the bedroom and snug, strapping arms encircling your waist, it would have to be some form of miracle to awaken you.

The form of this came in the body pressed tightly into your back; smoothly, a pair of lips are drawn to your cheekbone, satin kisses being dropped against your skin. Was it possible to awaken to such a soothing interaction? Your face is drawn to the feeling, turning in his interlocked arms, the side of your face nuzzling into the cushion as your eyes meet the deep, dark pools of his. 

“Good morning.” Carlos whispers, joyful at your rise from shuteye. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there himself, simply basking in the pleasure of holding the girl of his dreams against his firm body. The man was constantly on a lifeline; each time you interacted with him, he’s certain it would be his last, that one day, you’ll be violently ripped from his arms and his heart. 

Suspended in thought, the Spainard is drawn back to reality with the glowing touch of your palm on his skin. Immediately, one of his arms draws away from your waist, resting his own larger hand atop of yours. You look alluring like this; sleep still decorates your eyes, hair tangled from the deep sleep, yet perfect in every sense of the word. 

“Morning.” You respond, allowing yourself to set your gaze upon his face for a little longer. It’s a sin, settling in your stomach at how that same face had lifted from between your leg’s mere hours ago, the remanence of your arousal ever-present atop his stubble. You were certain he had a mouth crafted by the angels, the way his lips had toyed with your most sensitive parts and the way they currently pulled into an enticing smile in the present. 

Two bodies, two souls were entwined in that bed; you weren’t too sure how long you lay there alongside him, reveling in one another’s morning appearances. All you know in that moment is Carlos is overtaking your mind, sprinting through every vein in your body. Every unanswered question from the previous night rendered numb as the man leant forward in your touch, his lips gaining space on your own. 

There’s a sudden, sharp buzz from the other room, causing you both to retract from one another, bodies deep in the king-size mattress. A chuckle leaves his own mouth, running a heavy hand across his face, heart still pounding from the sudden jump of sound in the silent apartment. Something in your heart told you that buzz was for you. Whining from the sudden loss of warmth, you remove yourself from the bundle of blankets and body heat, bare feet padding into his living room, aware of your mobile phone, resting atop of the counter. 

The device gave a heavy buzz once more before you had the realization to pick it up, the battery barely there. You absent-mindedly call out to the man in the bedroom, asking if he had a phone charger you could borrow for a little while. There's clutter from the other room, clearly trying to find a space for your own phone. Whilst that incurred, your eyes flickered across the darkening screen, skin turning cold upon reading the text notifications. 

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

02:53: Charles Leclerc

I’m so sorry she was there – I had no idea. She’s gone now, can I come and collect you? Where are you?

03:25: Charles Leclerc

Please let me know you’re safe as soon as you can. Can I come and see you in the morning, please?

08:47: Charles Leclerc

Good morning, my love. How are you feeling today?

Guilt washed through your stomach, not for the interaction you had shared with Carlos; Charles had done substantially worse to you for the past twelve months. No, you knew what it felt like to have no response from somebody you cared for, terrified for their well-being. Even when Charles hadn’t cared for you, you had still nursed him, waiting up for his return in the early hours of the morning. 

With the remainder of your phone battery, fingers fly over the keyboard. Did you want your husband to come and collect you, specifically from his teammates home? He was aware of your building friendship with the Spainard, even if it wasn’t entirely platonic. There wasn’t a huge choice; you especially didn’t want to demand or pry a lift off Carlos, especially after he had come to collect you so late the previous night. 

08:58: You

Good morning, I’m at Carlos’ place. I’d really appreciate a lift back to the house, if that’s okay. 

The message barely had time to send before it’s marked as ‘read’. Immediately, the blue speech bubble pops to the lower corner of your phone, signaling a response was being formed.

09:00: Charles Leclerc

You don’t need to even ask. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. 

Fifteen minutes was not enough time to conceal everything which had happened in the previous hours. Feet now cold, legs now littered in goosebumps, you’d scrambled back into his bedroom, the man now on his own feet, those damn gray jogging bottoms hanging on his hips, a visible outline ever-present. It took your entire soul to remain strong, knowing how tempting this man could become in a matter of moments. 

“Charles is on the way.” You state, suspecting that it would cease all his movements, and allow yourself to get ready for your husband’s arrival. Instead, he’d stepped closer to your frame, leaning his toned torso towards you, locking you in his muscled arms, hiding his face in the skin he’d licked and bitten across the previous night. His mumbles are incoherent, littering across your neck in broken Spanish. He’s saying something. Something you can’t understand but is undeniably a plea for you to stay in his arms. 

Carlos stays pretty much attached to you the entire time you’re preparing for your departure; his body is pressed against yours, littering kisses to the crown of your head whilst you brush your teeth. His scent is so dominating on the hoodie he insists you borrow, slipping that atop of your frame whilst pulling on the bottoms you had wiggled out of the previous evening. The man’s heart explodes upon seeing you bundled into his clothing, a possessive streak striking through his body and soul. 

When your bag is packed, face washed and phone charging, now on the counter of his kitchen, you spend the last few minutes waiting for your husband’s adamant arrival by bundling into Carlos’ side on his plush sofa. It feels entirely natural by this point; his arms encircle your waist, letting you lie against his sternum, soothing yourself to his naturally steady heartbeat. A snippet of your heart desires to take this sole moment and capture it for a lifetime. Safe. Warm. Happy. 

The moment is wafted away from you both with the sudden rapping of knuckles on the front door. Whining, your eyes trail on the Spaniard, focused as he presses a final, fleeting kiss to your temple, pulls himself up from the couch and paces towards the hallway. Your own ears strain to hear the latch lift of the front door, Charles praises for looking after you the previous evening falling over his lips, two pairs of footsteps drawing into the front room. 

Your husband, despite his usual god-like appearance, looked terrible. His hair pushed to the front, clearly in need of a wash and brush. His skin was rubbed raw, face bloodshot; clearly, he hadn’t got a single moment of sleep the previous night, still dressed in the clothes he’d traveled home in the previous night. Despite the heavy lids of his eyes, they still light up when falling onto you. 

“Good morning.” He gives you a smile, only you. You can feel Carlos’ disappointment, even if you can’t see his eyesight at that moment. A pocket-sized smile from your own lips is offered in return, pulling yourself up in that moment, reaching for your bag which remained on the floor, slipping into your soft sneakers.

“Are you ready?” You’d asked softly. Charles’ mouth opened, hesitating before he spoke. He was thinking clearly. 

“I just need to speak to Carlos quickly. Something…private.” He tries to explain his standings, tries to make you feel less awkward as he reaches for the car keys resting in his hoodie pocket. “Are you okay to wait in the car?” He asks softly. He feels in no power to demand your movements, yet he requires one private word with his teammate. 

Your eyes don’t bother to meet Charles, instead immediately flying to meet the dark ones of your unofficial lover. What on god’s earth was your husband about to ask, and why did he want to do it out of your earshot? The look that you give the man says a thousand words, asking if he needs you to stay, hold your ground against Charles. The warm eyes of him give everything you need, silently promising he could handle this man. An entire conversation through looks alone, a skill the two of you had developed so naturally. 

Silently, you take the keys from Charles’ outstretched hand, skin flinching when being pressed against the cool metal. You don’t so much as glance in his direction when you’re walking to the counter, picking up your phone and stuffing it into the pouch of your borrowed hoodie. When turning on your heel, you pace back to Carlos, pressing a surprising kiss to his right cheek, murmuring a ‘Thank You,’ just for his hospitality, of course. You had done all the thanking for the number of orgasms you were granted the previous night. 

The walk towards your husband’s car, the SUV rather than his identifiable Pista, your mind clouded, clotted with an array of questions. Why did Charles need to speak to Carlos alone? Was he aware of the relationship the two had been sharing for an undefinable amount of time? Who on earth was the blonde woman giving you a death stare as she walked up the pathway to the complex, red lips practically hissing at your appearance, storming past you within half a second?

When you turn back to take in her appearance from behind, a sense of sickness settles into your stomach. You’d seen the back of that blonde head before; not in person, but rather on a phone screen. Your phone screen, held between white knuckles as you’d watched the man you had begun to fall for wrap his arms around another woman's lips meshed in a private nightclub, unaware of the multiple cameras capturing their searing moment. 

That was the same woman, identical in her mannerisms. You felt your tummy curdle into pain, into your vague realization that the only reason Carlos had offered you a place in his home, and subsequently his bed that evening, was because he was trying to fill a void until she returned to the scene. Your stomach wanted nothing more than to empty its remaining content in sheer shock. Instead, you breathe deeply, unlocking the door to the car, climbing into the passenger seat and closing your eyes, relaxing into the plush leather of the upholstery. 

You’re not sure how long your husband takes, eyes growing heavy as you await his return. It’s only realized when the driver’s door clicks open, rolling in your seat to watch as Charles climbs into his own, a frown resting at the bottom of his face. However, it’s immediately vanquished when his eyes latch onto your own, grinning at your presence, so close to him. A warm hand reaches out, brushing over the back of your head, sheerly enjoying the comfort you radiated. He'd been lost without you for the past twelve hours. 

Your eyes begin to feel heavy again, though you’re determined to get through the car ride alert, even if the soft scent of his cologne and the gentle lulling tunes from the morning radio are drawing you back to your previous state. Instead, you think of that woman. No, not the mistress you had grown numb to; the blonde woman, the one pressed against Carlos’ chest and lips mere hours after you had been. The glint in your husband’s eye is telling as you go through your endless thoughts, he knows something. 

“The blonde lady going into Carlos’ apartment.” Your voice is completely out of pocket, echoing through the front of the SUV. “Who was she?” There’s no beating around with the question you had asked; there’s no trying to sugar coat what you needed to know. Charles knows it, too. He knows he can’t hide the truth from you, you’re too smart for lies and manipulation, a year married with a mistress had taught him that.

Instead, he emits a deep sigh from his lips, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as he focuses on the road. “Natasha.” The name falls from his lips, he can’t meet your gaze, not when speaking about another woman to his wife. “She used to work for Ferrari’s PR but left just under a year ago. Carlos and her used to-“ 

“Date?” You’d cut him off without realizing, eyes widening when he’d shaken his head. 

“No, not date.” He responds. “They just had…a thing. Something.” He finished his train of thought, still not mentally ready to turn to you. In a comforting way, you were glad he hadn’t; Charles was unable to see the tears pooling at your lower lash line, the desire to rip off the hoodie now suffocating your body. You learnt in your heart that moment, you were apparently nothing special to Carlos. No, he had a thing. Something, with any woman who passed his way was as a wandering fancy. 

The tears decorating your eyes and desire to relax into the leather seat eventually overpowers your emotionally drained body, pulling you back into a slumber. 

You loved the sound of music.

A faint tune, one you were certain you’d never heard before lured through your ears, drawing you back to consciousness. You couldn’t remember getting home, let alone getting out of the car and tucking yourself into the comfort of your own bed. Groaning, you’d sat yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stretching the twinge in your back simultaneously. 

The music wasn’t coming from your room; the sound was beautiful, you just needed to locate its source. Your feet twinge when they touch the floor, cool floorboards easing the temperature of your socks. Opening the ajar door to your bedroom, the music grows louder, sound clearly emitting from downstairs, your feet carry you to the staircase with no hesitation. However, when reaching the top of the staircase, eyebrows crease together in confusion, taking in your once-ragged appearance in the crystal mirror. 

Your hair had been braided, albeit not elegantly, but at least out of your face, something you did almost religiously before sleeping. Your attire had changed, too, once you were dressed in Carlos’ sage hoodie. Now, your body was engulfed by Charles’ charcoal jumper, sleeves too long but an entire comfort for your drained mind. Is this what it felt like, to be nurtured and cared for by your husband? The pit of your stomach felt airy; this had been everything you desired for so long. And yet, now you had experienced somebody else, despite the heartbreak, your mind was utterly torn. 

Music grows louder, your mind is suddenly focused back on its original target. With no hesitation now, you began to walk down the flight of stairs, noting your bag and phone resting by the front door. Even with as many notifications as you’d missed in your time asleep, priorities overtook, making your way towards the lounge, eyes transfixed on the figure by the French windows.

Charles Leclerc sat, comfortably and quietly, gentle fingers dancing over the keys of his piano. The soft lights of the room illuminated the figure, a tune you had never heard was fluttering around the open space. 

Of course, you had heard him play the instrument multiple times; during his time spent at the house rather than on the track, he remained transfixed, creating new songs, finding some way to pour every emotion into some kind of melody. You’d lost track of the times you’d come downstairs to get a drink, put the washing into the machine and had instead pushed your body into the doorframe, eyes fixed upon your husband as he created the most beautiful sounds. 

The last time you’d done that, his mistress had been present, leaving over the piano as Charles played her an elegant tune. When she had gone to lean over him, her own fingers wanting to press down against the keys, he’d rested a firm hand on her arm, insisting that she sit on the sofa and listen, instead. The sweet moments of silently viewing your husband had turned sour; you’d silently vowed that day you would never enter the room when he was playing again.

You’d broken that promise mere seconds ago, eyes transfixed upon your husband. You can feel the tension beneath his fingers, as if he’s trying to take the sheer thoughts of everything that had been embedded into his mind in the past twenty-four hours and mesh them into some kind of audible release. Underneath the layers of music, your footsteps can’t be heard as you hesitantly walk towards the end of the living space. His tune reaches a climax, but before the piano can take any more notes, you cough lightly, Charles’ hands ceasing in mid-air. Arching his body weight, he sees your frame standing next to his piano, eyes still sleepy from awakening mere moments ago. The breath catches in the back of his throat; did you always look so perfect in his soft jumpers?

“I’m sorry.” He eventually offers, taking in your sweet, soft appearance. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, no.” The reply tumbles from your lips before you even realize. “It was…beautiful, actually. Is it a new piece?” You ask, entranced by the music which had been flowing freely.

“I’m not sure yet.” He can’t help but smile at the end of his sentence. “I just sort of started playing and this is what came of it.” The explanation is valid; like many creatives, sometimes a free flow form was the simplest way to go. His next movement is almost a shock to your system. “Why don’t you come and help me?” The offer is completed when he shuffles up on the piano stool, patting on hand on the available gap. There’s hesitation in your movement, before his hand trails upwards, leaning to clasp one of your own, guiding you towards the stool. 

There’s an overpowering smell of his cologne, a scent you were slowly drawing yourself towards. The body heat from his frame radiates into your own. Shyly, you reach out, pressing down on one of the piano keys, a tone spouting from the instrument. Charles can’t help but smile upon your interaction, eyes questioning as you analyze the instrument.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks gingerly, watching as you shake your head in response. His actions exchange, resting one of his warm palms over your own. The next moments are filled with your husband guiding your hands over the piano, teaching you the tune to old nursery rhymes. When you reach the end of the piece, he cheers in delight at the achievement. 

“Play me something now.” You ask carefully, head becoming heavy, heavy enough to rest on your husband’s shoulder. When you feel his body tense, you immediately sit back up, convinced you’ve overstepped a line. That thought is soon relinquished when Charles’ hand flies out, wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you back down to his shoulder, your breath hot on his neck, it’s enough for him, hesitant to overstep the boundaries you were adamant upon currently. 

His fingers move back, continuing the song he had been conducting earlier. The piece had started out slowly, almost sad-like, before building, building towards a romantic counterpart. In his mind, it was the perfect song to punctuate the relationship he maintained with his wife. They both sat there, barely any moment as the music was the only sound present in their house. 

When the song finishes, neither of you move, relishing in the soft touch you’re both sharing. Charles’ own head falls atop of your own, letting his cheek rest against your hair. There’s no form of time between you both, simply enjoying being alive, alive with one another. It’s interrupted when you feel Charles’ take an exaggerated breath, removing his keys from the piano. One of his hands rests upon his side, the other slides between the minute gap between you both, wrapping a toned arm around your waist. The movement causes you to lift yourself from his firm shoulder, catching those beautiful eyes from your glance. 

“I’m traveling to Monaco tomorrow.” He says it so casually, as if it’s as normal as entering or leaving the building. You can feel his heart race in anticipation of what he was due to say, his body temperature raising dramatically, radiating through his hoodie. You offer him a warming smile. You really didn’t want him to leave, not when you were growing so unnaturally fond of his presence. 

“Oh really, what for?” Is the eventual reply. In this moment, you simply can’t hold his eye contact, he’s staring into your soul, it’s as if he can sense every thought which is currently trekking through your mind; does he know how much of a hold he has on you, even if your marriage was entirely staged, at least in his eyes. 

“I’m off to see my mother” He clarifies. “It’s been a while and I just want to check in.” It’s a lie. You can tell from the way his body language changes; his hands are suddenly clenching tighter, his grip on your waist firm as if he’s terrified, you’ll run away. He can’t admit it, he’s not strong enough. If you step away, he will fall back to the way he was the previous night; eyes bloodshot, unable to sleep unless he knows you’re safe. 

“Give her my best.” The response is blunt, short. You’re on entirely different wavelengths, different planets. He never told you of his reasoning for things; a golden rule you had learnt at the beginning of this era. Just…you’d never question him; you would simply co-exist. What he says next makes your blood run cold. 

“Why don’t you come with me? I’d really appreciate it.” Why on earth would your estranged husband want you to come on his travels, presumably when the entire point was to spend the entirety of it wrapped in the arms of another woman. Yet, a feeling in your stomach settled. Did you actually want to spend hours in this empty house alone? Now that Carlos was no longer a welcome distraction, anything would be better than wallowing in your silence. 

“I will.” You eventually respond. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” His eyes are wide, so willing. He’d scooted tighter towards you, as if he could hold together this entire conversation, stopping the whole world from crumbling around you. You must be the one to take a deep breath this time. You had to remain firm with your choices, with what you needed to know. 

“What was in the white envelope that your mistress gave you yesterday?”

You loved the glow of candlelight. 

Having never entered Charles’ study, his fingers interlocked with your own as he guided you through the heavy door, you didn’t realize how many candles he had resting around his office. They laid upon his windowsill, on his desk, he even had a mulberry-scented candle resting next to his racing simulator. 

There was only one candle which was lit, he had obviously forgotten to extinguish it whilst you were deep in your slumber. Despite the fact you hadn’t ever been given access to this room, you’d have to make a mental note in order to check for any fire hazards the next time you were in the building alone. 

The envelope resting upon the desk stuck out like a sore thumb; his computer, stationary, it was all a cool gray tone whereas the envelope stuck out in a bright white glow. 

“I need you to know before you look at this, it’s a lot worse than it comes across.” Even in the candlelight, his face had turned pale, barely able to keep his fear from dancing across his emotions. You need to remain strong. You need to see what was left in the envelope. 

Staying firm, your grasp reaches out towards the desk, taking the card into your own hands. “I want to see it.” You clarified, letting your finger trace under the flap of the envelope.

You don’t let your husband’s words overpower you, distract you in any way. Instead, your hand reaches into the envelope and grasps around a stack of…something. It feels like multiple pieces of paper pressed together, though one side remains glossy, as if printed onto a special sheet. Hesitantly, your hand pulls from the envelope, eyes immediately widening upon seeing the content in question.

It's photographs. Multiple photographs of Charles and his mistress. Some of them are casual, taken from her phone, smiling selfies and dinner dates. Others are…compromising, verging on pornographic. You can feel the lump in your throat tightening, tears are forming on your lower lash line, but you must keep strong. You cannot show any weakness when you ask to see this.  

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Your voice betrays you, weakening as your words continue. “Your…girlfriend.” You don’t want to use the other word; it’s clear from these photographs it was more than sex, it was more than just an escapade. 

“She’s- she’s not anymore.” Charles pauses, his eyes don’t focus on the photographs, only on you. His wife, who he has hurt so badly and now must see the pain littered across her face. “She hasn’t been since your mother passed away.”

Your heart stops at the mention of your mother, a sharp spike of longing for the woman suddenly danced through your chest. Then, you were angry. How dare he pity you, you didn’t want it, not from him. But…you still wanted him. He’d clouded your emotions, nothing was black-and-white with your husband, just a cacophony of colors. 

“That was your reason for dumping her. Sympathy?” You don’t care how harsh your voice comes across, instead just aggravated you were growing to care about his reasoning. Life had been simpler weeks ago, when you simply stayed at home, minding your own business whilst he got on with his. By the look on Charles’ face, he wasn’t expecting the hostility, either. 

“No! I dumped her because it was wrong, because I have a loving wife who I would give anything for.” The room goes silent, giving you time to process the words that had come from his lips. You had been so certain for so long that he didn’t care about you; that everything he did was for his own gain and pleasure. Yet…he had given up his mistress for you. He’d given up something that made him happy because you were not. 

Stressing, you run a hand through your hair, placing the photographs back into the envelope, speaking to your husband as you place the card back onto his desk. You feel sick. These photographs exist and it was a perfect way to destroy the two of you, it was perfect ammunition to a metaphorical pistol. “So, what does she want you to do with these photographs?”

“Nothing.” Charles leans over your own body, reaching for a second stack of papers resting upon the desk, one you had considered would simply be notes from Scuderia Ferrari. Warm seeps through your body at his close contact, one hand almost trailing against your back as he grasps to the stack of crisp sheets, barely touched.  “She’s threatened to publish them if I don’t sign…this.” 

You took the stack of ivory papers into your palms. It was sprawled with a size twelve font, you were uncertain of where to begin until two words in bold took your attention, printed formally across the top of the page. 

“Divorce Papers.” Your voice is barely a whisper, heart dropping to your stomach. 

“That’s the other reason I’m going to Monaco.” He’s explaining his own status now, eyes glassy with the fear of you walking straight out of the office. He wouldn’t blame you, of course. He couldn’t blame you for anything anymore. Charles reaches out to your grasp, wiggling the paper from your fingers and placing them back against the desk.  “I’m filing for a lawsuit against her, a restraining order for manipulation and stalking.” 

A scoff falls from your lips; the mere contrast of the events from a few weeks ago compared to now. He truly intended to file a lawsuit against a woman who he’d happily let warm his bed whilst you went to bed each night with nothing but regret and bloodshot eyes. “Do you…do you want a divorce?” You can feel your voice cracking. “I mean, if she’s sent you these, you must have mentioned wanting one-”

“I did.” Charles doesn’t miss a beat. “I mentioned how I didn’t want a divorce because despite everything…I do care for you.” The room goes silent, not even the flickering of the candle or the soft wind from the French windows can pierce the tone of the room. 

A huff escapes your lips, arms resting by your side as you formulate a response; “You had a really weird way of showing it.” Your response is blunt, it clearly warrants the sad look on your husband’s face. 

“I know. That’s why I’m going to make it right. Please come to Monaco with me. She won’t be there; you don’t have to come to the lawyer with me. But…I need to be able to come back to my wife.” His hand reaches out, cradling your own in this moment. Gently, he lifts your palm to his cheek, resting it upon his stubble and letting his lips trace a kiss across the soft skin. 

He truly does know how to make your heart flutter, despite everything. 

“Okay.” You eventually respond, focused on his gaze when his eyes turn wide in anticipation. 

“Yeah?” His heart is picking up in happiness, reaching to hold you in his own grasp, but instead falling short when you raise a finger, ceasing his movements towards your body. 

“But…you need to give me tonight, alone. To process that.” Gently, you take a step forward, leaning gently towards him. You can’t leave him, not before you gently press a kiss to his cheek, turning on your heel, your figure illuminated in the corridor by the soft candlelight. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.” 

You loved the feeling of warm water.

There is only a slender picking of moments in your life where you have felt truly relaxed; sitting by the lake in the rolling fields your family had owned for generations, lounging in the bed of the Madrid-Based apartment your friends had hired for a holiday in the early spring morning. 

You had never thought one of those relaxing moments would be as your mother-in-law massaged her hands through your locks, lathering an expensive shampoo into the roots of your hair. She was gentle; no tangles fell through her fingers as her rhythm stayed perfectly relaxing, hitting all the spots which would send a flood of relief through your scalp. 

You’d arrived in Monaco early that morning, immediately being transported to the luxurious hotel your husband had booked you into. Most of the trips he’d book you wouldn’t attend, and when you did would be ignored by him altogether. This time, he’d remained present, willing. Your hands had entwined the moment you had left the privacy of the jet, nestling into the back of the car, eyes heavy from the early rise.

Not much is remembered after you’d arrived outside the opulent building; bags were removed and transported to your room by the bellhop, both you and your husband were given hotel cards, an older lady at the desk explaining the functions dotted around the high-end establishment. All you could remember was the door to the room opening, your tired body making a beeline towards the emperor bed, nuzzling into the soft furnishings with sleep overtaking you in a matter of moments. 

Charles hadn’t been able to help the tug on his heartstrings as he’d seen you tumble into the mattress. You’d been so thoughtful; dropping everything back at your house and accompanying him to Monaco, promising to be there for him as he promised to fix the wounds from his previous mistakes. He’d give anything to crawl into the bed alongside you, wrap his frame around your own and fall back into his own slumber, one he had despised the night before simply because he wasn’t able to hold you in his arms. He was learning to respect your wishes; after all, he had a lot of repairing to do-so. Even after recent conversations with his Ferrari counterpart, he could never bring himself to hate you. 

His phone buzzes from his back pocket and upon inspection he sees the reminder, he’s due with his lawyer in less than forty-five minutes, but he doesn’t want to leave you, not alone. A thought sparks into his head, fingers flying through his contacts and dropping a message to one, asking if they could take you over to his mother’s salon later in the afternoon. By the time he’s returned from changing in the en-suite and brushing a comb through his hair, the responses from both Joris and his mother had lit up his screen, confirming his plans for later in the afternoon. 

Your husband had allowed himself one more look at you, so peaceful wrapped up in the comfort of the bed. Silently, he leans over your frame, running a gentle hand across the back of your head, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring his sweet words to your sleeping form.

When you’d awoken, there was a message clarifying that Joris would be taking you to his mother’s salon a little later and he would come to collect you once he was finished with his lawyer. That’s how you had ended up walking into her salon earlier that afternoon, her delighted smile present after seeing her daughter-in-law.

Pascale wasn’t stupid, that much was clear. She was aware of the strain in her middle son’s marriage, just not to the extent that he had been toying with a mistress for the better part of a year. However, she had grown to adore you; your mannerisms, laughter and the fact that you clearly held a candle for Charles, despite the dwindling flame of the marriage. If she had a daughter, she’d want her to be just like you. 

“Are you and Charles up to anything this evening?” Her voice is gentle, motioning for you to stand up from the basin chair and walk towards the mirrors, resting yourself in one of the seats. Your reflection bores back into you, focused as Pascale adjusts your head slightly, brushing the tendrils of hair through her comb. 

“I’m not sure.” You respond. “I know he has some business this morning.” It’s an understatement. When Joris had collected you from the hotel, he’d tried to give you what information he could – Charles had arrived at his Lawyer’s office, ready to file the case against his mistress. He wasn’t too sure how long it was going to take, though he had told Joris to be on hand for anything you needed when he couldn’t. 

“You make him happy; you know?” Pascale mentions, tilting your head to angle your hair correctly. “I know he hasn’t always been…the greatest.” You’re not sure if she’s aware of everything, but her tone seems to stand where you need it to do so, “but you make…such an impact in his life.” 

Not much else is said whilst the woman continues to trim your hair, adjusting your face as she does so. It was nice, not to be cooped up into a hotel room for the entirety of the day, nor to be sitting in Charles’ driver room whilst he walked around, finger entwined with his mistress. You’re so engrossed in Pascale drying your hair, setting the locks into soft rollers that you don’t realize when the door chimes open, another figure entering the quiet salon. The woman’s eyes brighten, and you hear her cooing before your own face turns, taking in the figure of your husband in the doorway. 

Charles looks breath-taking. He’d clearly showered and changed since you had last seen him bundled in his travel gear that morning. Your deduction would be correct; the man had hastily returned to the hotel to jump into the shower, changing into a power blue shirt and white trousers. His hair, free of styling products curled in an unruly way, one that made his whole face structure elevate. 

In his hands, he held both a soft white dress over his arm, one you had packed in your case fleetingly the evening before; it had been steamed and washed, the fabric clear and petticoats of the skirt floating gently. In his other hand, a vibrant bouquet of roses. His smile never faded, walking over to his mother and pressing a kiss to each of his mother’s cheeks. Once his attention turns towards you, his eyes only brighten. 

“Hello, beautiful.” You can’t tell whether he’s playing up the affection in front of his mother, or whether it’s genuine. However, when one hand comes to rest on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s being respectful; making sure not to cross a boundary. 

“Hello, handsome.” The response falls from your lips without realizing, the grin on your husband's face only rising. Fuck. Did you mean to say that? Regardless, you had done, and by the look on his face he not only didn’t expect it but had instantly grown to love it. Charles had completely forgone the flowers in his grasp, only remembering them after your eyes had darted down towards his palms. 

“Oh-“ His mind finally catches up with the present situation, raising his hand to present you with the flowers. They’re colors are soft, delicate, as if etched by crayon. You can’t help but smile at the gesture, even if it was entirely a false pretense in front of his mother. You can’t see her face, but you know she’s smiling, seeing her son present to his wife in such a sweet manner. Now, your gaze isn’t fixed against the flowers in your grasp, but the dress from your suitcase.

“Something tells me that won’t fit you, Charles.” You tease the garment laying over his forearm, only to cause a smile to appear on his lips again. 

“I want to take you out for the afternoon. If that’s okay with you.” His voice is low now, hoping to avoid any prying of the conversation from his mother, though her attention was now turned to locating the hair dryer, still needing to complete your own treatment. “Would that be…okay?” He’s nervous. Fearful that after everything, you could now reject him and feel no remorse.

You’re not a cruel person, it has never been in your nature. Instead, you match his own smile, nodding as you take the garment from his grasp, Charles’ eyes widening in confirmation. 

“Trust you to pick out my favorite dress, too.” You mumbled. 

You loved the sound of the ocean. 

You loved everything about the sea, truly. The reflections from the moonlight caused shards to reflect over Charles’ boat; the new yacht had barely had time to stretch the waters, though it seemed to float as if it had been nurtured its entire existence. 

The afternoon of a late lunch had expanded into expensive, late-night wine on the boat as your husband had guided you into deeper waters. He knew what he was doing, after all; the waters of Monaco were a comfort to him, a lifetime had stretched out from jumping into the ocean as a child to yacht parties during the Grand Prix. 

You’d seemed entirely at home, and it made his heart warm. Charles wasn’t a stupid man; he saw how you kept yourself small, your setup at the house barely spanning over two rooms. He’d wanted nothing more than to break the walls you had put up for oh-so-long and entwine your lives together.

Then he would reprimand himself, remind himself he was the sole reason those walls existed. 

Conversation had spanned naturally into the events of the day; you thanked him for thinking of you, he’d responded with a mention of you deserving that form of treatment every single day. Your mind can’t take the anticipation; when your lips lift from the glass of wine, you can’t help but ask what his lawyer had recommended about his mistress. Your husband’s grin had fallen a little, running a hand through his dark curls. 

“It’s a difficult one.” He explains. “There’s enough there for a case, considering we haven’t had contact in a while. But…” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; you do for him. 

“The photographs are counted as evidence.” You finish, and he can only nod. He’s created such a mess, something he could never forgive himself for doing so. A web of lies and mistreatment surrounded you both; he so wanted to break each thread and simply cradle you, be in a bubble for the rest of eternity. 

He’s expecting you to stay silent, then. Maybe that’s where the evening should have ended, with silence upon the realization that this case will not be easily solved. Instead, you place the glass of wine down on the ledge of the stairs, easing his own glass from his grasp. Charles is confused, even more so when you walk back towards him, wrapping your arms to close around his neck. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. His hands raise hesitantly, as if touching you would break you into a million pieces. His grasp only falls to your waist when you press closer towards the man, resting your gaze on his own eyes. He’s hurt you, broken you to such an extent, and yet you can’t help but draw closer to his touch, to his eyes. 

“Being your wife.” You respond, before pressing your lips to his own. This is the first time, the first time in so long that you had been the one to initiate a kiss. Naturally, Charles’ hands wrap tighter around your waist, pulling you into his chest, deepening your touch, your kiss. This. This is the moment he wishes to bottle forever, to live in the comfort of his wife’s touch, no outside means, no other commitments being hung over his head. 

You’re not sure how long you both stand there, wrapped in one another, hands fleeting over each other, desperate to find some touch, some form of skin. It isn’t until your fingers reach to unbutton the top of his powder-blue shirt, that his own come to rest atop of yours. He knows he’s made a mistake when he sees the look you shoot him, immediately assuming the worst. 

“No, no.” He promises, both hands flying from where they had grasped yours, cradling each side of your face. It feels…warm. It feels so similar to the way Carlos had cradled your head once, when you were both on a boat, much like this. You think of those dark eyes, the whispers drawn into your ear as he had sharply thrusted into you that evening. Then, you think of the blonde appearing outside his apartment mere hours after you had been tangled in his arms. 

“I want to.” Charles’ words draw you from your endless train of thoughts. “Sweetheart, I want to more than anything, but I need you to know how much it means-“

You don’t let him finish; instead, you press your mouths back together, forcefully. There are whispers from your own lips, pleading that he take you, that you want nothing more than to feel your bodies atop of one another. 

And who is he to deny his wife? 

You’re not sure when he scoops you up into his arms, guides you inside of the boat and to the soft bed that had been freshly made mere hours ago, but he never lets your lips leave one another for less than a moment.

He’s everywhere; he’s pressing into you in the most delicious way, he’s drawing your body of the most intense sounds, and then you’re coming, harder than you ever thought was possible, it hits you in the most delicious way. 

Your fingernails pressed crescents into his skin as he continued to push into you with that perfect rhythm. Feeling your hot breath dance against the shell of his neck, the sweet whimpers of your overstimulated orgasm falling from your lips. Charles feels you clench around him, dragging you into him deeper, and it's all over.

His head immediately falls into the joint of your neck and shoulder, his pants getting heavier, thrusts rougher as he chases his own release. Teeth escape from his lips, biting down atop of the red marks he'd left earlier in a passion; the gasp you let-out, the roll of your hips against his own pushes him over the edge, a moan falling out from his own lips, hands flying to grip at your forearms pinned above him. You can feel every inch of him buried inside of you, warmth spilling into you.

Heavy hips press into yours, your thighs still pressed around his waist when he lifts his head from the warmth of your skin, pressing one final deep kiss to your lips, a profanity of words escaping from his mouth.

He kisses you again. And again. He keeps doing it whilst slowly rocking his hips, still jittering from his own orgasm. Senses come through, those eyes you had been entranced in so many times fixing to your own, drinking you in, looking so beautiful underneath his own frame.

"You still want somebody else?" The teasing is natural, almost, inflicting you to roll your eyes and playfully push his arm. God, your laugh is the most adoring sound in the world to him, it had been so long since he'd heard it, even then, it had never been due to his own actions until recently. The adorned look in his eye is soon replace with confusion when he feels you wiggle underneath him, soft blankets rubbing against your back.

"Are you going somewhere?" He questions, one hand coming up to trace against your jawline. You want to lean into his touch, it's something you'd been attracted to recently, though the mess between your legs and sweat trailing down your skin seemed to tell you something different.

"I need to clean up." You whine, pressing your body into the plush mattress. "I'm all gooey, Charles."

"I've got it." He murmurs, pressing one soft kiss to your cheek, another to your neck. You expect the weight from above to release you, but the warmth radiating from his body remains. You feel lips trace against your chest, his untamed curls tickle your stomach as he traces down a direct line.

"What are you doi-" You never get to finish you question, the fourth word cut off with a soft gasp, those lips which had pressed to yours, now pressing down against your clit, a soft praise towards your body whilst his tongue traced around the sensitive bud, drawing a slice through your wet lips, pressing deeper and deeper into your entrance.

The room is illuminated with your whines, hips bucking against his stubble as he fulfills his promise of cleaning you up.

You loved the feeling of being held.

You’d been unfathomably happy to walk into the paddock that evening, fingers interlaced with Charles’ as he guided the two of you through the fans and photographers alike, buzzing to be starting on Pole Position when his wife would be watching in awe of his achievement. 

You hadn’t been there on qualifying day; you were still trying to keep your distance where you could, to prove to your husband he couldn’t instantly win you back overnight. It had only been when he’d come into the en-suite of your room the evening before, hands wrapped around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, pleading you came to watch him race the following night.

“I’ll win.” He promises, voice quiet as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll win it for you.” 

His sweet words had not only lured you to the race track the following day but had also drawn you to sleep in his bed that evening, curled up into his toned chest as he murmured words of appreciation in French; only a few you were able to pick up and understand the meaning of as you drifted into a comfortable sleep, arms cradling your body underneath the bed sheets.

There was a collective, loving aura that evening when the two of you had stepped into his garage, the team in awe of seeing that their Prince of Monaco and his beloved Princess had been reunited, here to support one another. However, one figure remained quiet, eyes transfixed on your every movement. He felt his knuckles turn white when Charles had changed into his race suit, placing his cap atop of your own head and had lovingly pressed two kisses to either of your cheeks.

Carlos Sainz was a jealous man; he’d been infuriated when his blonde fling had appeared on his doorstep, instantly realizing the kind of man he must have been made out to be when you’d seen her appear on your departure. He’d hoped and prayed you hadn’t seen her, but from the radio silence he received over messages and calls, to the way you had purposely avoided speaking to him when arriving in the paddock, he could tell you were not that naive.

Emotions had played a heavy part on both of the Ferrari Pilots during the start of the race. One, determined to keep his promise and win whilst his wife was present. The other was so clouded with sadness and rage that all he wanted to do was push his counterpart off the track. The lights snapped off, 20 engines revving in unison as the cars blitzed down the first straight. 

It doesn’t take long for emotion to overcome; Charles’ P6 soon creeps towards a P3, whilst Carlos begins to drop. A violent turn into Oscar Piastri not only takes the young rookie out of the race, but the Ferrari driver, too. Nobody misses the swears as he switches the engine off, nor the scowl on his face as he removes the steering wheel, ready to be escorted back to the garage. 

When the blur of red comes through the paddock, you can’t help but feel guilty, telling yourself that if you had spoken to him, he would have been able to keep a cool head. Silently, you slip the headphones from your temple, murmuring about going to the bathroom before taking a direct beeline towards Carlos’ room, catching the door just before it’s due to slam closed. 

He was seething. Pure rage flicked across his eyes; the warm smile reserved for you replaced with a harsh scowl. This may have been a mistake. 

“What do you want?” His words are venom, spit towards you. He cannot stand to see you right now.

“I just-“You pause, clearing your throat. “I wanted to check if you were okay.” It’s a pathetic answer, really. One that didn’t sit right in your mouth, even after you had spoken. 

“I’m alright?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You ignore my calls, go away and fuck that pathetic man and then come back to me?” He’s pissed, undoubtedly so. “You whore. I understand it all now.” He shakes his head, missing the fire which had begun to burn in your own stomach. 

“You have no right!” You’d shrieked so loudly you’d startled yourself; one finger was still pointed into his infuriated face, your finger mere millimeters from the bridge of his nose. Hot air engulfed both of your bodies, the only sound present was the deep and heavy breathing flaring from your nostrils. 

Without a thought, Carlos had slapped your finger away from his face, lunging forward dramatically to seize your face into his rough palms. His lips are on yours, roughly seeking the wet trace of your tongue. You can’t fight him; not when his lips feel so flawless against your own. A rough palm encases the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he holds your frame tighter against his own. 

Your breath barely had a moment to catch when he forcefully pulled his lips from you, emitting a white from your breath. That innocent sound is soon replaced by a sharp gasp, his fingers tightening against your scalp, pulling on your locks. 

“Don’t fucking whine.” He spits, ghosting his lips over your own, never letting them touch yours. Warm breath tickles the shell of your ear when his grip pulls tighter onto your hair, tiling your ear to meet his mouth. “I’m sick of your whining, about your horrible excuse for a husband. I will treat you how you should be treated.”

There’s no time to react as his pink tongue pokes from his lips, a stripe tracing from the corner of your ear, across the sweetest spot of your neck. You’re reveling in the wetness, the sinful way his words litter through the air before teeth sink into your skin. He doesn’t bother to cover your mouth, mute the sweet sounds falling from your lips. There’s no decency anymore, Carlos doesn’t care who sees the marks he engraves into your skin. The ring on your left hand means nothing more than a reminder that he could be better. 

“Carlos-“ You struggle to connect the two syllables together, hands gripping through his hair, pulling at the brown locks in your fingers. “Fuck-“ 

“What did I just say?” He grunts from the valley of your neck, one hand sliding from your waist and flying out, smacking on your clothed butt. The shock simply causes you to gasp out loud, pushing your own throbbing crotch into his hard one. A smirk forms against your neck, clear as day when the man pulls himself from your neck. His lips are wet, saliva from his own mouth tracing around your lips. 

One hand finds your face again, grasping at your chin tilting your head backwards to hover below his own. A single finger taps at your lips, signaling for you to open wide for him. He’s sinful as he lets his spit fall across your lips, eyebrows raised as he wraps a hand around your throat, clearly overpowering your stance in this moment.

“Swallow.” He commands, hand resting on your cheek firmly. The tone of his voice sends a shock of energy down your chest and between your legs, cunt throbbing at his words. Of course, you comply, swallowing the remanence he had given you. “Good girl.” 

The sweet nicknames in this moment have evaporated; Carlos is nothing short of animalistic, his presence all too understanding as one hand takes its place around your neck, the other grabbing firmly onto your wrist as he guides you backwards, softly falling onto the sofa of his driver’s room. The pitying looks the man gives you sends a thousand messages through your brain. 

“No, no. Dirty little girls don’t get to sit on my sofa.” He teases, both hands clasping your waist, sliding you off the plush furnishings and resting on the cold floor, kneeling for the Spaniard. “You need to be on your knees, you need to be taught how to behave.” 

Eyes widen as his tanned fingers pull at the knotted arms of the fireproofs resting on his waist. Even through his underclothes, the shape of his hard length is clearly visible, even more so as he removes his underlayers and briefs, letting himself spring freely, one hand rubbing his shaft a few times, the other knotting in the back of your hair. 

He loves this; cock in his hand as he taps the tip against each of your cheeks, trailing himself against the parting of your lips, having to hide the shiver from his own body when the wetness of your mouth. His eyes are sparkling when he uses his firm cock to press through your mouth, relishing in the warmth of your lips wrapping around his length. 

“That’s it, be a good girl. Take it.” He coos as you struggle to take more of his length, attempting to give small, tentative licks to his cock whilst he slides between your lips. It sends him feral, wild. He thinks of nothing else as both hands grip tightly in your hair, shoving your face into his crotch, your gags music to his ears as he continues to take control of the situation.

When your eyes adjust, look up from his groin, he almost feels sorry for you. They’re wide, glassy, snuffles falling from your lips as he continues his forceful attack. One hand slowly removes itself from the strain on your locks, tracing over your cheek, thumb rubbing underneath your eye, removing the salty tears as your breath remains heavy through your nose. 

“Oh, poor baby.” He teases, pace never relenting. “This is what you need, someone to put you in your place, remind you what you deserve for teasing me, making me jealous.” He can’t help but chuckle at the pathetic sound coming from your lips. He can feel his stomach tightening, the warmth drawing an imminent release from his cock. This isn’t how he wants to finish, he can’t yet. 

Your mouth feels empty when he pulls out, giving you no warning, the gasps falling from your lips at the sudden gain of air. He doesn’t give you time to respond, a heavy hand pushing your front to the floor, lifting your hips, ass straight back in the air. No warning, the skirt of your dress is lifted, the wetness of your cunt seeping through your panties. The anticipation kills you, until a warm finger slides into your folds with no warning. Your body can’t help but react, clenching around the warmness without even realizing. You also don’t realize the sounds you’re making, until the finger removes itself, a palm harshly smacking on your behind. 

“What did I say about noises?” He grunts, leaning around to push the wet finger into your own mouth. “Do you like it? Taste what I do to you?” Hurriedly, he presses his finger in and out of your lips a few times before returning it to your wet hole, wiggling in the air. This time there’s two; stretching you out, your palms trying to find anything to grip, to hold on to as he carelessly thrusted, tickling a sweet, sweet spot deep in your stomach. 

“I- Carlos I can’t-“ You whine through raspy breaths. He can feel you clenching, swelling around his fingers, and is rewarded when he hastily pulls them out of you, a long moan and a squirt of arousal pushing from your cunt. A sheer shock of arousal floods between his own legs, rubbing his fingers against your wet folds, letting your wetness trail onto the tips of his hand.

“Oh, your husband can’t make you do that, can he?” He’s proud; proud he’s able to draw such a reaction from your body. “Come on, baby, up we get.” His arms are suddenly firm, present around your waist as he pulls you to stand on two shaky legs, still reveling in the feeling he had granted you moments ago. 

Hands retract from your waist and come to hold your face, pressing kisses to your scarlet lips as he guides you from a standing position towards his couch, finally allowing himself to sink into the cushions. You want nothing more than to join him, feel his warmth and aura around your own body, but by the finger he’s raised as he situates himself into the sofa, you can tell you’ll have to wait. 

The moment he sits down, a tanned hand comes to his crotch to rub his length a few times, your eyes widening as you plead for it; mind clouded by lust, all you want is for something warm to fill you up, make you feel as good as he had done so many times before. Carlos’ finger beckons for you to join him, and you know what he’s insinuating. 

Your movements are commanded by the Spaniard; immediately, there are two firm hands on your body, pulling you into his touch and sinking you down onto his cock. You don’t miss the way his lips quirk into a grin, oh-so-happy to see your reaction to the pleasure he had granted you. It’s no match for when he starts moving, bouncing you up and down on his lap, fallen gasps from your lips as your faces draw closer and closer.

You were sinking into one another’s skin; he wanted nothing more than to entwine your bodies for eternity. One hand was firm around your waist, guiding your movement with the strength only he could. The other guided a gentle trace across your face, pulling you closer, closer to his own face as his thrusts got faster, erratic. 

“You’re mine.” He grunts, never once breaking eye contact as his hips grew tighter, his cock making your cunt squeeze in a way you didn’t know was physically possible. “You’ve always been mine, tell me you’re mine.”

His eyes go soft, thrusts pausing for a second as he notes the tears pooling in your eyes from the sheer euphoria running through your body. A whine falls from your lips as you feel his strong hand tug at your neck, pressing your foreheads towards one another, hips slowing for just a moment, letting your breath catch up to your aching body. 

“I’m yours.” You’d whisper, mind clouded. You were his. There could be a thousand cars, an ocean or a wedding band between the two of you and you would still always find your way back to Carlos. Whatever that relationship would form, you would always be a part of him. 

The murmured confirmation was enough to send a shot of energy through his spine, his thrusting becoming deeper, passionate. It barely takes five thrusts before he’s groaning, throwing his head back and letting out a low moan as he spills himself into you. The warmth is enough to send your cunt into flutters, clenching so tightly as your body falls into his chest, whining as you feel a gush of wetness drip onto his crotch. 

Undoubtedly, Carlos Sainz is now a part of you. Time seems to flicker between seconds and minutes, at some point you’ve shifted your weight, turning around to fix your eyes onto the television screen of his room, eyes wide as you watch your husband continue to battle out on the track. It felt almost sinful; watching Charles battle for his podium whilst his teammate stayed buried inside of you. 

His touch goes soft; one hand remains tight around your waist, though your back is warmed by the way you’re pulled back into his skin. Feather-Light kisses dance across your shoulder, he’s never been this soft, cradling you as if the world would be held together by your content. If the universe was to implode, he would be happy with the fact you were pressed into him in that very moment. 

The laps of the race begin to dwindle; a promising second-place is looking pretty much secured for Charles. You’re certain that your silver trophy will be sitting proudly in the hotel room later that evening, until Max Verstappen suddenly begins to slow down, commentators beginning to roar as an unexpected engine issue splutters into the RB19. 

“Holy shit.” Carlos murmurs, sitting up from his relaxed position, both arms now tightly around your waist as he shifts the balance of your bodies. “What happened to Max?” His voice becomes a murmur, your attention drifts, focused on the cars beginning to pick up their speed against the current world champion. 

Goosebumps litter your skin, you immediately pull away from the warmth of Carlos, eyes wide as you see the scarlet red car glide into view. He’s going to overtake Max. Not only that, but your husband is about to win the entire race. 

An audible groan comes from both of you when you slip yourself off his length, searching around for the panties which had been discarded oh-so-long ago; the man rests a hand on your shoulder, one hand tracing across your jawline as the other reaches down, gently smoothing the skirt of your long dress. 

“We’ll find them later. We need to go and congratulate your husband, after all.” You can’t miss the cockiness in his voice, still content with the fact his cum is buried deep inside your pussy, panties are left in his driver’s room as a sheer prize for being able to make you feel euphoric. A tinted blush decorates your cheeks as he slips into his old jeans and a Ferrari polo shirt, one hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you out of his driver’s room, never once bothering to fix his hair when you had been the one to grab onto it so tightly.

People wouldn’t think that of him, after all. 

You love to be loved. 

Your eyes are brimming with tears as you reach Parc Fermé, Carlos finally catching up with you, standing right behind you at the barrier, eyes transfixed onto his teammate, standing atop of his livery, cheering towards the endless roars of the crowd, passing a congratulatory message towards his fellow drivers, Lewis patting his back, Lando cheering on his behalf.

He’s already removed his helmet when he sprints towards his team; the losses don’t matter, not when he can celebrate the win he had been craving for so, so long. There are praises passed, pats on the back as he works his way down the winding line of his team, red in their clothes and their cheeks, it means the world to everybody. 

And then, Charles is facing you, his wife. He’s so transfixed upon your gaze, the sheer elation you have for his victory that he doesn’t stop to think when he takes two of his hands on either side of your face, cradling your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, grinning into such a sweet kiss that you can’t help but kiss him back. 

“I told you.” He whispers when he pulls away from you, resting a gentle hand on your cheek for just a moment. His eyes finally turned to where his teammate was standing. Both of them have to forge a smile as they reach out to clasp hands, a firm grip in celebration of scoring points for their team. 

You don’t see him again, not until he’s left the cool-down room and is bounding towards the podium. Carlos, having not been called to his post-race interview yet, still stood behind you, though one hand had snaked its way around your waist, as if it had to be there. Nobody notices, of course. The team is too focused upon their driver lifting his golden trophy, in awe of the achievement they had built for seemingly the entire season.

Charles doesn’t miss it, of course. Maybe that’s why his gaze is so fixed on you when he releases a splash of champagne, purposely aiming his bottle towards the man behind you, his heart only crushing further when he sees the Spaniard pull your frame behind his own in protection. 

And then, it’s all over. Both Carlos and Charles are rushed away to complete their post-race interviews. You’re left alone, simply taking a slow walk towards the Ferrari Hospitality. Even as you pace through the crowds, you can’t help but feel…sick. Dizzy. Out-of-body. 

You cared for your husband greatly, and somewhere during it all, you believed his apology was genuine, that he truly wanted to fix the previous mistakes of the year. But how long would his tether last until his mistress came trailing back, regardless of a court ruling?

And Carlos. The sweet man who had proved to you time and time again, you were worth more than a simple name on a piece of paper. He’d been your soul, you truly were set to drop an entire marriage to live in his arms until his blonde counterpart came along, a knife to the chest after one of the most intimate nights you could fathom. 

Your breathing gets faster, the world begins to turn on an axis. From somewhere, you hear a voice asking if you’re okay, if you need help getting back to the hospitality. And then, the world goes black, your body slumps to the floor of the paddock, with only one sentence drifting through your unconscious mind.

Who do you love? 

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover @barnestatic @omgsuperstarg @chimchimjiminie16 @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog @junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt @crowdthena @screemqueen @lewislvr @styles-sunflower @itspaddockprincess @adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins @formulanando @lorarri @christianpulisic10 @gaypoetsblog @thisbitxhs-blog @goldsainz @ru-kru @magical-spit @hrlzy @nooshytushie @gaslysainz @marvel-at-stucky @sugarvibez @adeptustemptations @roseseraj @leclercdream @pjofics @hecatesfavoritechild @poseforme @thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19 @heavenlyiecreature @pink-teddy-bear @nooshytushie @strawberries-and-racing @milasexutoire @ohthemisssery @florkt @obsessedwiththeideaofyou @ru-kru @myhomeworksnotdone @ineedafictionalman @bregarc @allywthsr @summerslike11 @wildcupcake @willowpains @marlenamallowan @leclercloml @katzenwahnsinn @be-your-coffee-pot

[lvmoure]

The only exception CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x lawstudent!reader

Summary: In which you were his only exception

Warning: none

whoomandiaries

Liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

whoomandiaries life can be boring sometimes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Landito, calm down!” You stopped him.

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

“Wait till your brother hears about this!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

carlossainz55

Liked by whoomandiaries, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others.

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

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[itsvelyria]

"sleepless nights w the f1 boys"

Charles Leclerc

his fingertips, rough and dry, are warm as they sketch circles into the back of your hands. you're uncertain of whether he's even aware of it — gaze lingers on your lover, distracted by his gentle charting of constellations in the midnight sky. his voice, a steady murmur, narrates the story of cygnus' lost love and delphinus' persuasion. the chilled air is held at bay as you remain nestled at his side. soon the night softens, inky blue yielding to pinks and oranges as you trade dreams and stories, your heart filling as fatigue settles into your bones.

Carlos Sainz

late-night drives through deserted city streets unfold like a poetic journey. the hum of the engine blends seamlessly with the laughter that fills the car. childhood stories are shared, echoing through the serene space beyond. with each turn, memories are etched into the fabric of the night, becoming invisible threads that linger in the quiet hours that follow. carlos’ handprint on your upper thigh tingles long after parking, sending sparks up your spine as you two head back up to your shared bed.

Danny Ricciardo

the moonlight casts a soft, clandestine glow, accentuated by the fairy light someone had left hanging. rusty bulbs flicker as danny pulls you up by the hands, the out-of-bounds rooftop transforming into an impromptu private dance floor. below, the city is sleepless and alive with its pulsating energy, serving as your silent witness. the faint notes of your paramour’s cologne, a blend of skin and soap, envelops your waltz as you rest your heavy head against his chest. he hums an all-too-familiar melody and in this suspended moment, time seemed to stretch.

George Russell

on cozy nights in, you both find yourselves entwined in a nest of blankets, a sanctuary of warmth. the orange glow from your nightstand delicately paints the walls, creating a cocoon that shields you from the chill outside. amidst the quietude, secrets and dreams are exchanged like cherished treasures. a small flame is kindled in the tranquil space you've carved out for each other — a haven where the moments hover, suspended in the the warmth of your shared breaths, as sleepless nights turn into timeless memories.

Lando Norris

in the realm of virtual gaming marathons, the hours extend into early mornings, a landscape illuminated by the lights of your screen. shouts of triumph and screams of anguish punctuate the air, interweaving with playful banter that colours the room. oceans away from the love of your life, his laughter still resonates through your headphones as he achieves a triple-kill. you cherish every digital heart he sends through your private chat, a reminder of the connection you share despite the physical distance.

Lewis Hamilton

in the tranquillity of midnight, a serene park becomes your canvas for shared introspection. the world transforms into a tapestry of silver and shadows as you two embark on a quiet stroll, hands entwined. conversations unfurl like the delicate petals of snow-white lilies, their fragility mirrored in the hushed murmurs. the night air carries whispers of dreams and aspirations that mingle with the rustle of leaves underfoot. in the hallowed stillness, your footsteps fall into cadence on the gravel path, heartbeats synchronizing like a ballet telling the story of forging connections.

Max Verstappen

beneath the vast expanse of twinkling stars, you both pitch your tents on damp grass. the crackle of a campfire and the rustle of pine trees create the soundtrack to this new chapter in your relationship. flickering flames cast dancing shadows on max’s face as he concentrates on roasting marshmallows. the stars above interrupt every shared gaze and every brush of your hands. the magic sparkling in the inches between your frames settles deep into your bones, destined to be a memory never forgotten.