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neferaskingdom · 5 months ago

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♡ Vegas Baby | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: After winning his fourth world championship, Max Verstappen stuns the world with a live radio proposal.

A/N: This was inspired by this post by @altxanna idea so good it made me get over my writer's block and write this 4.2k monstrosity.

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Max Verstappen crossed the finish line in fifth place, but that didn’t matter. The entire world was fixated on the fact that he had just won his fourth World Championship.

“AND MAX VERSTAPPEN DOES IT AGAIN! FOUR WORLD TITLES!” David Croft shouted, his voice teetering on the edge of hysteria. The Las Vegas skyline lit up like a fireworks display on overdrive, the crowd roaring in approval.

“Forget where he finished—he’s a four-time world champion!” Martin Brundle yelled, equally excited. “This is history!”

Max, however, barely seemed to notice he’d crossed the line in fifth. He was just… Max. Calm. Collected. His voice came through the radio, steady as always, but with a hint of amusement.

“Thanks, guys. It’s been an incredible season. I’m so proud of the team. Huge thanks to GP, Christian, everyone.”

“You’ve done it, Max! Four-time champion, man!” GP screamed, clearly unable to keep the excitement in. “This is massive, mate! You’ve earned this!”

“Yeah, I know,” Max said, his voice deadpan. “But listen, there’s one more thing.”

The radio went quiet for a second.

“Uh… What’s that, Max?” GP asked, his tone suddenly cautious.

Max didn’t respond right away. Then, he casually dropped the bomb.

“Y/n, a bet’s a bet. We’re getting married tonight.”

“WHAT?!” GP exploded. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Max’s tone didn’t change. “We’re getting married. Vegas chapel. Tonight.”

The entire Red Bull garage froze. Even the other engineers looked around in total confusion.

Max continued, his voice as if he were discussing the weather. “It’s been planned. I won the fourth title, she agreed to the bet, so… wedding time.”

GP sputtered. “Max, you—WHAT? No, no, no. You can’t just say that on the radio! You can’t just—”

“I’m doing it,” Max said, already tired of the conversation. “It’s happening. Vegas. Tonight.”

The radio was dead silent for a long moment, then GP finally spoke, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and dread. “Max, I—What in the world did I just hear? Are you seriously making your wedding announcement over the team radio?”

“Of course, I’m serious,” Max replied. “She said if I won my fourth title in Vegas, I could pick the wedding date. So, I picked tonight.”

“Max, you can’t—you—what the hell is wrong with you?!” GP spluttered.

Back in the commentary booth, David Croft could barely hold it together. “Did Max Verstappen just announce his wedding on live radio after winning his fourth world championship? Is that what I just heard?!”

“I think that’s exactly what you heard, Crofty,” Martin Brundle said, voice dripping with astonishment. “This is pure, unfiltered Verstappen.”

David Crofty just stared at the screen, blinking in disbelief. “Honestly, I can’t even process this. We’ve seen some wild moments in F1, but this... this might just take the cake.”

“Yeah,” Brundle said with a chuckle. “You can’t script this stuff. Not even in Vegas.”

Meanwhile, in Red Bull’s hospitality area, Y/n was standing stock-still, her eyes wide as she stared at the screen. The radio call still blaring in her ears.

“Did—did he just announce our wedding? Like… right now?!” she hissed, her hand gripping the counter in disbelief.

A Red Bull mechanic standing nearby looked just as stunned. “Uh, I think he did, yeah.”

“He’s lost it,” one engineer muttered under his breath, his face pale.

“I don’t even know what’s happening anymore,” another whispered.

The others weren’t any better off, most of them looking like they might faint. A PR rep came over, trying to maintain professionalism but clearly in shock. “Y/n, um… Max just… did he just announce your wedding?”

“Don’t look at me,” Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t even… He’s the worst.”

“Vegas, baby!” another joked, only to get smacked in the arm by Y/n as she stormed past.

Back on the track, Max, utterly relaxed, parked his car in parc fermé and stepped out, throwing his helmet in the air before catching it like it was no big deal.

“So, yeah,” Max said, grinning at the cameras. “Got my fourth title, and now I get to marry my girl. Vegas chapel, let’s go!”

The reporters and photographers surrounding him stared at him in utter confusion.

“Wait, what? You’re—what?!” one reporter stammered.

Max smirked. “Yep, Vegas. I won, she lost, and now we’re getting married.”

He tossed a thumbs-up to the camera as if it were a completely normal thing to say.

“Max,” one reporter finally managed, “you’re serious about this, right? You’re really getting married in Vegas?”

Max’s grin widened. “I’m serious. A bet’s a bet. No turning back.”

Back in the Red Bull garage, chaos had officially set in. Christian Horner, who had been pacing for the last five minutes, finally stopped and glared at a nearby mechanic. “What am I supposed to do with this now?!”

“I don’t know, Christian,” the mechanic said, holding up his hands in defeat. “Maybe we start picking out flowers?”

“Someone get me a drink,” Christian muttered, walking off, leaving a sea of confusion behind him.

Y/n stormed through the paddock like a woman possessed, her face a mix of disbelief, panic, and barely contained rage.

She spotted Max leaning casually against a barrier in parc fermé, looking like he had no care in the world—despite having just announced their impending Vegas wedding to the entire world. He was surrounded by Lewis, Fernando, George, and Carlos, who were all still there congratulating him and clearly trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“MAX!” Y/n screeched as she closed the distance.

Max turned, his smug grin stretching even wider. “Oh, there she is! The future Mrs. Verstappen. Took you long enough.”

Y/n planted herself directly in front of him, glaring. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Max blinked, his expression far too innocent. “What? I kept my promise.”

“Your promise?” Y/n echoed, incredulous. “You hijacked the championship celebration to announce a fake wedding! On LIVE TELEVISION!”

“It’s not fake,” Max said matter-of-factly. “A bet is a bet.”

Carlos, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, wait, wait. You bet your wedding on the championship?”

“Of course,” Max said with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m a man of my word.”

George choked on air. “You’re a menace.”

“Exactly,” Y/n said, throwing her hands in the air. “Max, this is insane! You can’t just—”

“Relax, schatje,” Max interrupted, his tone annoyingly casual. “It’s Vegas. This is what people do here.”

“Not normal people!” Y/n snapped.

Lewis, still dabbing at his face with a towel, gave a bewildered laugh. “I’m sorry, are we actually talking about a real wedding right now?”

“Yes,” Max said confidently. “Tonight.”

“No,” Y/n shot back.

“Yes.”

“MAX!”

“Yes, Y/n,” Max said, leaning forward slightly. “We are getting married tonight, and that’s final.”

“Final?!” she spluttered. “How is this final? There’s no plan, no venue, no—”

“Vegas has plenty of chapels,” Max interrupted smoothly.

“I don’t have a dress!”

“You’ll look great in anything,” Max countered.

Y/n groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even have someone to walk me down the aisle!”

Max tilted his head, clearly unbothered. “Oh, that’s easy.” He turned to his left, where Lewis stood mid-sip from his water bottle. “Lewis! Can you walk Y/n down the aisle tonight?”

Lewis froze, the bottle halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“Can you walk her down the aisle?” Max repeated, as if this were a completely reasonable request.

“I—” Lewis blinked, looking between Max and Y/n. “Uh… sure?”

“What?! No!” Y/n shouted.

“Why me?” Lewis asked, baffled.

Max shrugged. “You’re a world champion. She deserves someone of high status.”

Before Y/n could combust, Fernando Alonso stepped forward, a sly grin on his face. “Hold on,” he said, raising a hand. “If anyone is walking her down the aisle, it should be me. I’m the most appropriate for the role.”

Lewis turned to him, visibly confused. “How do you figure that?”

Fernando gave a dramatic shrug. “Experience. I’m wiser, more distinguished. A father figure, if you will.”

Y/n groaned, “Oh my God, Fernando—”

Lewis snorted. “Father figure? Please. More like grandfather figure.”

The group exploded into laughter. George doubled over, wheezing, while Carlos clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his own cackles.

“You wound me, Hamilton,” Fernando said, his tone mock-offended.

“Yeah, but I’m not wrong,” Lewis quipped, smirking.

“This is not happening,” Y/n muttered, covering her face with her hands.

Max leaned closer to her, his grin pure mischief. “See? Problem solved. You have two excellent candidates to walk you down the aisle.”

“This is NOT solved!” Y/n screeched.

George finally spoke up, still chuckling. “You know, for the record, this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen”

“Agreed,” Carlos said, shaking his head with a grin. “But I can’t look away.”

Max clapped his hands together. “Alright, then. We’re all set! Lewis or Fernando—it’s Y/n’s choice.”

“I CHOOSE NEITHER!” she yelled, clearly on the verge of a breakdown.

Max leaned back, entirely unfazed. “Suit yourself. But one way or another, schatje, we’re getting married tonight.”

Y/n turned to the other drivers, her eyes pleading. “Can someone PLEASE talk some sense into him?”

Lewis shrugged. “I don’t know, Y/n. He seems pretty set on it. You might just have to roll with it.”

Fernando smirked. “And let me know when you decide. I’ll be practicing my ‘giving away the bride’ speech.”

George buried his face in his hands again, mumbling, “This is a fever dream.”

Y/n, meanwhile, was contemplating her life choices as Max grinned at her, utterly pleased with himself. This was going to be a nightmare—and she was the star attraction.

Suddenly, Lando came sprinting out of nowhere, practically skidding to a stop in front of Max. His curls were a chaotic mess, and his face was split into an ear-to-ear grin that made him look like an overexcited puppy.

“MAX!” Lando yelled, throwing his arms up. “FOUR-TIME WORLD CHAMPION! YOU LEGEND! Also mate, what the hell?! Are you really getting married?!”

Max turned, his ever-present grin widening. “Obviously.”

“I thought it was just a rumor!” Lando said, flinging his helmet onto a nearby table. “I mean, come on, you say insane stuff on the radio all the time! I figured this was one of those things.”

“Nope.” Max popped the “p” for emphasis. “It’s happening. Tonight.”

Y/n, who had been pacing nearby in a futile attempt to process her life choices, groaned audibly. “I hate all of you. All of you.”

Lando glanced at her, then back at Max. “Wait, so this is real? Like… actually real?”

“As real as it gets,” Max replied, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “And since you’re here…”

Lando squinted. “Since I’m here, what?”

Max’s grin turned sly, his hand still on Lando’s shoulder. “How do you feel about being my best man tonight?”

Lando froze, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” Max said, still looking far too pleased with himself.

“Me?!” Lando gestured wildly at himself, his voice rising an octave. “Why me?!”

“Why not you?” Max countered smoothly.

“I don’t know!” Lando threw up his hands. “You could ask your trainer, your engineer—anyone! We’ve been rivals this entire year!”

Max tilted his head, his expression softening slightly. “Exactly. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs this year, yeah? Fighting for the championship and everything. But at the end of the day…” He paused, his grin shifting to something more genuine. “You’re a good friend, Lando. One of the best. And I’d like us to bury the hatchet. Tonight.”

The sudden sincerity hit Lando like a truck. His eyes widened, his lip quivering just a little as he stared at Max. “Max…”

The group went quiet—well, as quiet as it could be with the chaos of the paddock swirling around them. Even Y/n stopped pacing to stare, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You really mean that?” Lando asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“Of course,” Max said, giving Lando a firm pat on the back. “You’ve been there through all of it, mate. Who else would I want standing next to me tonight?”

Lando’s hand flew to his face, his bottom lip wobbling. “Oh my God. I think I’m gonna cry.”

“Don’t cry,” George mumbled, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. “This is ridiculous enough already.”

“Shut up, George!” Lando snapped, though it lacked any real venom. He sniffled, blinking rapidly. “Max, you big idiot. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Max smirked. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

Y/n, watching this entire exchange with her arms crossed, muttered under her breath, “I cannot believe this is my life right now.”

Carlos, standing nearby, leaned over to George and whispered, “Do you think Lando will actually cry at the altar?”

“Oh, 100%,” George replied without hesitation.

“I’M NOT CRYING!” Lando shouted, wiping furiously at his eyes.

“Sure, mate,” Carlos said, grinning.

“Shut up!” Lando whirled back to Max, pointing a slightly wobbly finger at him. “Fine! I’ll do it. I’ll be your best man. But only because that was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Good.” Max nodded approvingly. “We’re gonna have a great time. Bring tissues, though. You’ll need them.”

Lando groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re emotional,” Max teased, clapping him on the back again.

“Can I leave now?” Y/n interjected, looking thoroughly exasperated.

“Nope,” Max said cheerfully. “We’ve still got wedding planning to do. And Lando needs to rehearse his speech.”

“Speech?!” Lando exclaimed, his face paling. “No one said anything about a speech!”

“Oh, come on,” Carlos said, grinning. “Just wing it.”

“This is a nightmare,” Y/n muttered.

“See, schatje?” Max said, turning to her with a mischievous smile. “Everything’s settled”

“Kill me now,” she groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

“Not before the wedding,” Max quipped. “I need my bride alive, schatje.”

Carlos, grinning, nudged George. “Do you think she’ll kill him before they even make it to the altar?”

“I actually might” Y/n snapped, making everyone laugh—except her.

Max clapped his hands together, cutting through the lingering laughter. “Alright, boys, fun’s over. See you after the podium, yeah?”

Carlos snorted, throwing an arm around George. “Come on, hombre. Let’s get out of here before they decide to do something crazier.”

Max turned to Carlos, his grin turning devious. “Speaking of you, Carlos, I need another groomsman. What do you say?”

Carlos blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Me? Really?”

“Obviously,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “You’re good at standing around looking pretty. Perfect for the job.”

“I’m honored,” Carlos said, puffing out his chest dramatically.

Y/n, standing a few feet away, raised her hand. “Dibs on George for my side, then.”

George’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?”

“I called dibs,” Y/n said firmly, crossing her arms.

“That’s not how this works!” Max exclaimed, glaring at her.

“It is now,” she shot back, grinning.

Max groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You are impossible.”

“You’re marrying me,” she said sweetly. “This is your problem now.”

Before Max could argue further, he grabbed her hand, tugging her away from the group. “We need to pick more people. Properly.”

As they walked through the paddock, Max started listing names under his breath. “Alright, I want Charles on my side.”

“No way,” Y/n said immediately.

Max frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I’m picking him,” Y/n declared, speeding up her pace as soon as she spotted Charles standing by his car.

Max groaned. “You can’t just steal all the good ones!”

“Watch me.”

By the time they reached Charles, Y/n was already stepping in front of Max, her grin wicked. “Charles! You’re going to be my maid of honor.”

Charles looked up, his face blank with confusion. “Wait, what?”

Max shoved Y/n aside, scowling. “Ignore her, Charles. You’re going to be one of my groomsmen.”

“No, he’s not!” Y/n snapped, stepping back in front of Max.

“Yes, he is!” Max shot back, sidestepping her.

Charles blinked between them, his brows furrowing. “What is happening right now?”

“You’re gonna help me with my wedding,” Y/n said, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. “It’s happening tonight.”

Charles just stared at her, still not sure if he was in a dream or being pranked. “Uh… are you serious?”

“Charles, listen to me,” Y/n said, grabbing his hands dramatically. “I need you on my side. You’re the only one who understands how insane Max is.”

Max pulled her back by the shoulder. “He does not understand that! He’s my friend, not yours.”

Charles raised a hand. “Guys, what—”

“Do you really want to stand next to Max?” Y/n asked, cutting him off.

Max glared at her. “Do you really want to be stuck with her?”

“I feel like I don’t want to be stuck with either of you,” Charles said cautiously, his confusion growing.

“Charles,” Y/n pleaded, gripping his arm. “Please. You’ll get to wear something cool”

Charles blinked, still completely befuddled. “I… I don’t know what’s happening. Am I even invited to this wedding? Because you’re asking me to do a lot without any context.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Max interjected, gesturing wildly. “You’ll have more fun on my side. I’ll let you hold the rings.”

“No we’re letting Yuki hold the rings!” Y/n shouted.

Charles blinked again, looking between them like they’d both lost their minds. “Are you two seriously fighting over me right now?”

“Yes!” they yelled in unison.

Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Say yes to me, Charles,” Y/n said, batting her eyelashes.

“No, say yes to me,” Max countered, practically growling.

Charles threw his hands up. “Fine! I’ll be on Y/n’s side. But only because she asked first.”

Y/n cheered, sticking her tongue out at Max. “Suck it!”

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Max muttered as Charles smirked at him.

The wedding was somehow happening. In the span of a few hours—thanks to an intense series of last-minute phone calls, frantic text messages, and a team of Red Bull employees being worked to the bone—the ceremony was set to begin. And despite the fact that no one really knew how they’d gotten here, the whole thing had turned into the weirdest Formula 1 event in history.

Y/n stood in the back, adjusting her dress, eyeing the people around her in disbelief. Max had somehow managed to throw together an entire wedding in record time, which was somehow both impressive and terrifying. She was walking down the aisle with Lewis and Fernando—two of the most iconic figures in F1. She couldn’t decide between them, so she’d invited both to walk her down the aisle. Because, why not?

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Lewis asked, smoothing out his jacket. His suit was impeccable, of course. He was an icon of style, so a last-minute wedding wasn’t going to stop him from looking good.

“I’m just trying to survive this,” Y/n muttered

“We’re in Vegas. Anything goes,” Fernando quipped, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “At least the wedding's got personality."

“You both know I’ll never live this down, right?” Y/n said, shaking her head. "This whole thing is so Max, I feel like I should apologize to everyone for being part of it."

“You’ll be fine,” Fernando added with a smile, adjusting his cufflinks. “It’s Max. You know he doesn’t do anything half-heartedly. He’s probably already planned the honeymoon.”

Y/n laughed nervously. “I’m pretty sure he has. You’ve both seen what happens when Max gets an idea in his head. And somehow... this is actually happening.”

“You’ve got this,” Lewis said. “We’re here for you.”

Before Y/n could respond, the doors swung open, signaling that it was time. The aisle was a bit too short for a proper procession, and the whole thing had a sense of hurried chaos as they started walking down toward the altar.

At the front, Max stood there waiting, looking like he was about to burst with excitement. His best man, Lando, had been fighting tears all night and was now sniffling into a tissue. "I swear this is the happiest day of my life," Lando muttered to Carlos, wiping his eyes.

Carlos, looking slightly concerned, just shook his head. “It’s their wedding Lando, not even your own. stop bawling.”

“Yeah, but it’s their wedding,” Lando said, eyes still damp. “There’s too much love in the air.”

Max had his hands tucked in his pockets, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. When he spotted Y/n, he gave her an exaggerated wink, as if to say, “We made it.”

“You good?” Fernando asked, glancing at Y/n as they reached the front.

“I’m questioning every life choice I’ve made,” Y/n muttered under her breath, feeling the full weight of the absurdity of the situation.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Max said, grinning.

At the back of the room, Oscar and Franco stood with baskets of flowers, both looking thoroughly confused in their roles as flower boys. Oscar had been dragged into this because of his unwillingness to protest. Franco, on the other hand, was too amused to care about the situation and just went along with it.

“Oscar, why are we doing this again?” Franco whispered, furrowing his brows as he sprinkled petals on the floor.

“Because Yuki said we had to. And I’m not arguing with him,” Oscar muttered, holding his basket as if it were a grenade about to go off.

“Who cares? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience! Attending Max Vertsappen’s wedding?,” Franco said with stars in his eyes, “I’ll tell my grandkids about this.”

Yuki, holding the rings, couldn’t contain his excitement as he gave them instructions. “Guys, you’re doing great. Just, uh, try not to look confused. I need this to look professional. Oscar throw the petals properly! more passion! more energy! more footwork!”

“I’m already questioning my entire existence,” Oscar said, looking at Franco for solidarity. Franco just smiled and threw a handful of petals into the air.

The Elvis officiating the wedding was already in full swing, not entirely sure of the gravity of the moment but having a blast nonetheless.

"Y’all ready to get hitched?" Elvis said, his voice more vibrant than Y/n could’ve imagined.

Max, barely containing his excitement, looked over at Y/n. “Ready for this, love?” he asked, his voice low, though it carried a hint of playfulness.

Y/n smiled, glancing at him for a moment. “More than ever.”

Then, in front of everyone, they exchanged their vows.

Max spoke first, his voice unwavering, but there was an undeniable tenderness in his words. “Y/n, you’ve turned my world upside down. You’ve made every race, every moment, better just by being there. I promise to keep being the person you’ve decided to stand at an altar with, the person you love—even when I’m an absolute nightmare. I’ll always fight for us, for this. I love you.”

Y/n could feel her heart in her throat as she spoke. “Max, you’ve always been… Max. But you’ve shown me that you are a person with the biggest heart. You’ve made me laugh, cry, and love harder than I thought I could. You’re my best friend, and I can’t wait for the next chapter of this crazy life with you. I love you.”

There were no grand gestures or over-the-top theatrics; instead, it was just them—raw, honest, and completely present in this moment.

Max smiled at her, the kind of smile that made everything feel right, before turning to the officiant.

“Elvis, hit me with that ‘you may kiss the bride’ line,” Max said, giving a wink.

And so, amidst the madness, they kissed, sealing their vows with a moment that felt right in all its simplicity. The crowd cheered, some clapping and others, like Lando, wiping away happy tears. It wasn’t the wedding anyone had expected, but it was exactly what Max and Y/n had needed.

As they pulled away, Y/n’s gaze met Max’s, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of them, everything else fading away.

As the ceremony ended and the newlyweds turned to leave, the crowd of friends and teammates erupted into applause, some of them still trying to process what had just happened.

Lando was grinning, wiping his eyes. “This is so perfect. I’m still not sure how we managed to get here in two hours, but it’s amazing.”

Charles was smiling too, giving Y/n a thumbs up. “Congrats, both of you. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Max is married now.”

Lewis patted Max on the back. “She’s got you now. Good luck with that.”

Y/n smiled at him, a little breathless. “So, are you planning to annoy me for the rest of our lives?”

Max grinned back, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Absolutely. You’ve signed up for it, so no turning back now.”

Everyone laughed, but there was a deep sincerity in the air. This was their moment—imperfect and hurried, but beautiful in its own way.

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landoughnut · 29 days ago

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My Protector

♡ masterlist - request

♡ pairing - charles leclerc x fem!reader

♡ summary - charles won't allow people to speak poorly of his girlfriend, and neither will the other drivers

♡ warnings - protective bf charles, protective platonic grid, rude journalists

♡ w/c & a/n - 1.6k | girl dinnerrrr

The Monaco paddock was always chaotic, but today felt different. You could feel the tension in the air as you walked past the Ferrari garage, hearing snippets of whispered conversations and catching sideways glances from the media personnel.

The familiar scent of rubber and fuel that usually brought you comfort now seemed to mix with something more toxic – speculation and judgment.

"...just a distraction..." "...PR stunt..." "...affecting his performance..." "...can't focus with her around..."

Your stomach twisted. The headlines had started appearing after Charles' podium in Barcelona last weekend. What should have been a moment of celebration had turned into a big thing of speculation, with certain journalists suggesting your relationship was the reason he hadn't secured pole position instead of just a podium.

The fact that the Ferrari's pace genuinely hadn't been there for pole seemed irrelevant to them. You'd seen the social media posts, the opinion pieces, the "expert" analyses of how Charles' racing line had changed since you entered his life – as if your presence somehow affected the physics of his car.

You adjusted your Ferrari team pass, a movement that had become almost nervous lately. Eight months into your relationship with Charles, and this was the first time you'd faced such intense scrutiny. Sure, there had always been paparazzi photos and social media speculation, but this felt different – more personal, more accusatory.

You thought back to the previous night, how Charles had held you close in his apartment, promising that it would all blow over soon.

"They're just looking for stories," he'd said, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. "They do this every season. Remember when they said Fernando was too old? Or when they claimed Max had lost his edge after settling down? It's all nonsense."

But standing here now, under the weight of dozens of judgmental stares, his words felt distant. You clutched your coffee cup tighter, the warmth seeping into your palms providing little comfort.

The same coffee shop where you and Charles had first met – where he'd literally crashed into your life, sending your original drink flying all over your favorite shirt. The memory usually made you smile, but today it felt like ammunition for those claiming your relationship was somehow created by PR teams.

You were about to duck into the Ferrari hospitality area when a microphone was thrust in your face. The reporter – one you recognized from a particularly nasty article last week – wore an expression of barely concealed hostility. Behind her, several other journalists gathered like sharks sensing blood in the water.

"Is it true that Ferrari PR orchestrated your relationship with Charles Leclerc to improve his public image after his difficult 2024 season?" The reporter's voice was sharp, accusatory. "Sources suggest the timing was very convenient. And what do you say to fans who believe you're compromising his focus on the championship?"

Your heart pounded. The memory of your first real meeting with Charles flashed through your mind – how he'd accidentally spilled coffee on you in that little Monaco café, how he'd insisted on buying you a new shirt, how you'd ended up talking for hours about everything except Formula 1.

How he'd been so nervous asking for your number that he'd nearly knocked over a second coffee. How your first date had been at a tiny restaurant far from the glamorous spots he usually frequented, because he wanted somewhere quiet where you could really talk. Nothing about it had been orchestrated or planned.

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air like a knife.

"That's enough." Charles' tone was ice-cold, nothing like the warm, playful voice you were used to. He stepped between you and the reporter, his usually gentle features set in hard lines. "You can question my driving. You can criticize my strategy calls. But you do not get to fabricate stories about my personal life or harass the woman I love."

The reporter stumbled back, but pressed on. "But Mr. Leclerc, your qualifying performances since beginning this relationship—"

"Have nothing to do with his relationship," Max Verstappen's Dutch accent interrupted as he appeared beside Charles. The Red Bull driver crossed his arms, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Maybe focus on the actual racing instead of making up stories? Charles has been driving better than ever – or did you miss the battle we had in Barcelona? Because I certainly haven't forgotten how hard he made me work for that win."

"The media's treatment of partners in this paddock has always been disgraceful," Lewis Hamilton added, joining the growing circle of drivers. His voice carried the weight of experience, of having seen this pattern repeat too many times. "We're here to race, but we're also human beings with real relationships. This needs to stop. The constant scrutiny of our personal lives, the baseless accusations – it's not journalism, it's harassment. I've seen too many relationships strained or broken because of this kind of pressure, and it's unacceptable."

Charles' hand found yours, squeezing gently. The gesture said everything words couldn't – I'm here, I've got you, we're in this together. You squeezed back, drawing strength from his presence, from the familiar calluses on his palm, from the subtle way his thumb stroked your skin.

"For the record," Charles addressed the now-silent group of journalists, his voice carrying the quiet authority he rarely showed outside of the cockpit, "my relationship is not up for discussion. My performance this season? Six podiums, two wins. If that's what you call being 'distracted,' then maybe I should have been distracted years ago."

His accent grew slightly stronger with emotion, something that only happened when he was truly passionate about what he was saying. "And since you're so interested in timing, let me tell you about timing. The timing of meeting someone who makes you want to be better, who supports you through the hard days, who understands the pressure and still loves you anyway – that's not something any PR team could orchestrate."

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd. Even Lando Norris, who was passing by, couldn't help but grin.

"Mate, if anything, she's made you faster," Lando called out. "Remember when you were single and finished P4 in Saudi? Dark times, dark times indeed. Besides, have you seen them together? If that's PR, then I need to fire my entire media team."

You couldn't help but smile as the tension broke. Charles turned to you, his green eyes soft again, the protective anger melting into that familiar warmth that made your heart skip. A strand of his dark hair had fallen across his forehead, and this time, you didn't resist the urge to brush it back. His eyes darkened slightly at your touch, and before you could process what was happening, he pulled you close.

The kiss wasn't planned or polished for the cameras. It was real and a little messy and perfect – the kind of kiss that said everything words couldn't. His hands cradled your face with the same precision he used on the steering wheel, but so much more tender.

You could feel his heart racing against your palm where it rested on his chest, could taste the mint from his morning coffee, could hear the surprised murmurs and camera clicks around you. But none of it mattered, because Charles was kissing you like you were the finish line he'd been racing toward all his life.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours. "Je t'aime," he murmured, just for you. "Let's get some coffee before practice? There's that little place around the corner... unless you're worried I'll spill it on you again?" His playful smile was back, the one that had made you fall for him in the first place.

As you walked away, his arm protectively around your waist, you could hear Carlos Sainz expertly deflecting the remaining reporters with his characteristic charm. "My teammate's relationship? Why don't we talk about the new upgrades instead? They're much more interesting, I promise you. Or we could discuss how Charles has actually improved his tire management this year – which, by the way, happened after he met her, so maybe we should be thanking her?"

The paddock might be a pressure cooker of speculation and drama, but in moments like these, it felt more like a family – one that protected its own. Even Pierre Gasly, passing by with his race engineer, gave you a supportive nod. "They're just jealous," he said loud enough for the lingering journalists to hear. "Charles is driving better than ever, and they can't stand that their narrative doesn't fit."

Later that afternoon, you watched from the Ferrari garage as Charles attacked the Monaco streets with precision and passion. Each sector time flashed green, then purple. The garage held its collective breath as he crossed the line for his final qualifying lap.

"Pole position, pole position!" his race engineer's voice crackled over the radio. "P1, Charles, P1! Absolutely magnificent lap!"

In parc fermé, he pulled you into another kiss, this one full of adrenaline and joy and full of love. His race suit was damp with champagne from the celebrations, but you didn't care. This was your Charles – not the media's version, not the speculation's target, but the man who had stolen your heart in that coffee shop and continued to amaze you every day.

"See?" he whispered in your ear, still holding you close. "You're not a distraction. You're my strength. My lucky charm. My everything."

The next day's headlines would focus on his blistering lap time, his masterful sector three, his perfect strategy. The negative articles seemed to vanish in the face of his success, though you knew they might return. But it didn't matter anymore – not when you had Charles, not when you had the support of the entire paddock family.

And if anyone still thought you were a distraction, well, the trophy sitting in Charles' Monaco apartment would beg to differ.

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norristrii · 2 days ago

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WINNERS OF ALL HEARTS.

People love your and Oscar’s relationship since the beginning; Moments of you and your boyfriend Oscar during Drive To Survive season 7.

pairing. Oscar Piastri x fem! reader

warnings. est. relationship. In honor of Oscar’s win in Bahrain! 🫶🏻 I have never seen a single episode of dts and I definitely don't plan to. Everything here is made up and doesn’t relate to the actual season. // I’ll do Lando version too!

[episode one]

The season opener buzzed with energy. You walked hand in hand with Oscar, people and cameras around you. It was nice to be back after winter break.

As you strolled along, you glanced down and noticed your shoelace was untied. Stopping mid-step, you turned to Oscar, handing him your handbag with a casual smile.

“Could you hold this for me, please?” you asked with smile.

Oscar ignored your question, but instead of standing there as you’d expected, he knelt down beside you, his movements swift and deliberate. His fingers worked deftly to tie your shoe, the knot firm yet careful.

“Thank you,” you said, your smile soft and genuine, appreciating his thoughtful gesture. He returned the warmth with an easy smile of his own. “No problem,” he replied with smile.

Netflix editors made it funnier by cutting to Lando rolling his eyes as he walked past you.

[episode two]

The atmosphere in the McLaren garage was relaxed as you lounged before practice. Lando, leaned over with his phone in his hand, sly grin across his face.

“Y/n, look what Oscar sent me,” he said, showing you a TikTok video that was anything but innocent. You couldn’t help but laugh at the dirty text, but before you could say anything, Oscar’s voice cut through the moment.

“I already apologized!” he exclaimed, his face flushed with embarrassment as he overheard your conversation. His reaction only made the situation funnier, and you burst into laughter.

“How can this even happen?” you managed to say through fits of laughter, struggling to catch your breath.

Oscar, still blushing furiously, threw his hands up in defense. “It was an incident!” he protested, his voice almost cracking under the weight of his embarrassment, which only made you laugh harder.

As you and Lando laughed, the editors cut to Oscar, subtitles read: [tremendous embarrassment]

[episode three]

Before the race, the cameras captured a quiet yet heartfelt moment. You carefully adjusted Oscar’s helmet, ensuring everything was perfect. Satisfied with your work, you smiled warmly at him. “Good luck,” you said, pressing a light kiss on his helmet.

“Thank you,” he replied softly, his voice full of gratitude. Then, with a tender smile under the helmer, he added, “I love you, babe.” The simplicity of his words carried the weight of something steady and true.

After this clip was published, fans went crazy and it became viral on tiktok.

[episode four]

Oscar had done it—his first Grand Prix win, a moment he’d dreamed of and worked tirelessly for. The roar of the crowd faded into the background as he climbed out of the car, his eyes immediately scanning for you. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward you, his emotions overwhelming him.

Before you could say a word, he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you, the world seeming to pause in that heart-stopping moment. The victory was his, but the celebration was yours together.

While you celebrated his achievement, the camera cut to Nicole and Hattie doing heart from hands as they pointed at you two.

[episode five]

Oscar moved through the fan zone with ease, signing caps and shirts as he greeted the crowd. In his hand, his phone rested casually, the screen occasionally lighting up with his touch. Each time it did, it revealed his wallpaper—a candid photo of you, beaming with joy as you cuddled your dog. It was a quiet reminder of what grounded him amid the chaos of his world, a glimpse of the happiness he cherished most.

Fans took photos and posted it online saying, “He loves her so much it can’t be even real.”

[episode six]

With the cameras buzzing in the McLaren garage, the two of you had too much time on your hands. Oscar was focused, attempting to braid your hair—a task far more challenging than he anticipated.

“Oh my god, this is so hard! It’s like a puzzle,” he groaned, frustration clear in his tone.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You drive a F1 car and can’t do a braid? Osc, c’mon,” you teased, your grin widening as his struggles made the moment all the more entertaining.

Netflix narrative saying, “Let’s hope Oscar is not hairdresser in his next life.”

[episode seven]

The interviewer beamed as they addressed Oscar, “So Oscar, great job today, your first pole position, how do you feel?”

Oscar’s smile was radiant as he replied, “Yeah, just great... the car, the team,” but his gaze shifted, seeking you out in the crowd. His expression softened even more as his eyes landed on you. “My girlfriend’s here, so it’s the best,” he added, his grin unmistakably proud.

The camera panned to you, catching the sweet moment as you blew him a playful kiss, drawing even more smiles from the onlookers.

“Would you say your girlfriend is your biggest supporter?” the interviewer pressed.

Without hesitation, Oscar nodded. “Definitely, she’s just perfect,” he said, his voice brimming with sincerity and affection. It was a small yet touching moment that reflected how much you meant to him.

Fans kept saying in comments under this clip when F1 posted it, “May this love attack me.”

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beverlybuildersgroup · 1 year ago

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Budget-Friendly Garage Conversions: Making The Most Of Your Investment

The prospect of transforming a garage into useful home provides a wide variety of opportunities for homeowners, supplying an opportunity to both boost way of living and potentially boost property value.

Cost-effective techniques can be implemented to take full advantage of the return on this home renovation project, consequently enhancing the financial benefits alongside the added convenience and convenience.

While some might think such conversions to be financially draining pipes, it is feasible to undertake these improvements within budgetary constraints while preserving high quality end results.

In today's increasingly affordable real estate market, property owners are continually seeking innovative methods to bolster their building's appeal and potential resale worth.

A garage conversion supplies a special chance in this regard; not just does it include beneficial square video but also provides versatility in its utility-- from visitor bed rooms or workplace to leisure spaces or rental units.

These makeovers however require thoughtful planning and notified decision-making processes worrying style aspects, product option, labor expenses among others.

This short article intends to provide useful advice on handling these aspects successfully and financially whilst guaranteeing an end result that pleases both visual considerations and financial investment returns.

Cost-efficient Methods for Change

Applying cost-effective approaches for garage changes can dramatically boost the value of a residential or commercial property, providing a powerful roi that resonates with both financial prudence and visual charm.

A calculated method to such conversions involves concentrating on elements that take full advantage of able to be used area while all at once improving performance. Some efficient methods consist of installation of multi-purpose furnishings and smart storage options, which lessen clutter without endangering access. Additionally, opting for energy-efficient insulation products can provide lasting cost savings in heating/cooling prices, therefore enhancing the monetary benefits of the conversion process.

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Thus, by embracing affordable improvement techniques, homeowners are managed an opportunity to transform their garages right into functional and aesthetically appealing home; thus optimizing return on their investment.

Maximizing Return on Home Renovation Projects

Enhancing the return on home enhancement tasks requires cautious planning and critical decision-making. This is specifically real for garage conversions, where the balance between cost effectiveness and added worth must be completely taken into consideration.

Prioritization of alterations that enhance both performance and visual charm can produce a considerable increase in residential property appraisal. As an example, incorporating additional space such as bedrooms or offices can result in an attractive multi-purpose area that dramatically improves resale value. In addition, concentrating on energy-efficient enhancements not only decreases energy costs however likewise enhances bankability as a result of expanding consumer demand for environmentally friendly homes.

In addition to choosing high-return alterations, efficient allowance of resources plays a vital function in making best use of investment returns from garage conversions. Picking resilient yet budget-friendly products can prevent too much expenses while making sure durability and low maintenance prices. Making use of space-saving design principles allows house owners to cater to contemporary patterns without sacrificing convenience or functionality.

Finally, acquiring needed authorizations and sticking strictly to building codes safeguards versus potential legal issues that might adversely impact the residential or commercial property's value or marketability. Hence, with careful preparation and cautious selections, home owners can change their garages into useful possessions that elevate their homes' worth while satisfying their personal needs and choices.

Final thought Finally, a prudent investment in affordable garage conversion techniques functions as a catalyst for enhanced return on home renovation jobs, comparable to sowing seeds that generate plentiful fruit soon.

It is just through careful preparation and execution that the potential of garage areas can be fully manipulated.

Additionally, by striking an optimal equilibrium between looks and capability, these conversions can certainly end up being the epitome of area utilization.

Therefore, it comes to be clear that budget-friendly garage conversions are not simply an expense; rather, they make up a gratifying financial investment encouraging significant returns.

#garage conversion ideas #garage conversion cost #garage conversion to living space #garage conversion regulations #garage conversion plans

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amirasainz · 7 months ago

Note

Can you do reader is Landos sister and she’s his whole world but she’s away at school and she surprises lando at a race?

Of course!!! I hope you like this.

Send me some requests and enjoy reading

-XoXo

Little Norris

It was no secret within the paddock that Lando Norris’ favorite person in the entire world was his younger sister, YN. No matter the context—be it interviews, casual conversations, or even playful banter with other drivers—Lando always found a way to bring her up.

The paddock had grown accustomed to hearing him wistfully complain about how much he missed her, and how unfair it was that she was stuck at school, unable to attend the races.

Sadly, this wasn’t just an exaggerated tale; YN was enrolled in St. Paul’s Girls’ School, a prestigious all-girls school in London, where students could only visit their families during weekends and holidays.

However, YN’s academic commitments were so demanding that even those weekends were usually spent buried in books, only leaving the school for holiday visits. Lando’s ever-busy Formula 1 schedule certainly didn’t make things any easier.

So, it came as no surprise to Oscar when Lando began lamenting once again about how much he missed his baby sister.

“I just don’t get why she still has to go to school. It’s miles away, and she can’t even come home on the weekends,” Lando groaned, his expression a mix of frustration and longing. “The last time I saw her was in February, Oscar. FEBRUARY. Can you believe that?”

Oscar, who had heard variations of this complaint countless times before, only raised an eyebrow and responded with a calm, “Really?” knowing full well that Lando wasn’t done yet.

“And to top it off,” Lando continued, his voice rising in exasperation, “I tried calling her yesterday. And instead of picking up, she sent me to voicemail. Voicemail, Oscar! Why would she do that? Do you think she’s mad at me? Oh no, what if Mum finally told her I was the one who ate the last cupcake at Christmas? She’ll never forgive me!”

Oscar couldn’t help but chuckle at Lando’s melodramatic worry, but the constant whining had begun to wear on him. Finally, he placed both hands on Lando’s shoulders, spinning him around to face him directly.

“Lando, relax. I’m pretty sure your mum didn’t tell her about the cupcake incident,” Oscar said, trying to suppress a smile. “She’s probably just busy studying. You know how much school means to her.”

Before Lando could cut him off with another complaint, Oscar pressed on. “Look, we all know how much you adore YN, and you’d probably move mountains to keep her by your side. But you’ve got to understand—she enjoys school. She loves hanging out with her friends, and she’s passionate about her classes. She’s smart, Lando, and she adores you just as much as you adore her. So don’t go saying silly things like this. You know it would make her feel bad.”

Lando let out a deep sigh, the usual playful glint in his eyes dulled by a hint of sadness. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, his pout still intact as he was called away by one of the McLaren mechanics.

He gave Oscar a grateful, albeit slightly sheepish, smile before walking off towards the garage.

Oscar watched his teammate disappear into the distance, and once Lando was far enough away, he exhaled deeply, the weight of the secret he’d been holding onto starting to lift. No one had ever told him that lying—even for a good cause—could be so exhausting.

Because, of course, Oscar hadn’t been entirely honest. He was well aware of just how much Lando missed his sister. In fact, he’d spent weeks meticulously planning a surprise that would, if all went smoothly, bring YN right to Lando’s side.

After countless emails, flight arrangements, and some help from McLaren’s logistics team, Oscar had managed to fly 17-year-old YN out to Azerbaijan for the next Grand Prix.

The plan was to keep her arrival under wraps until after qualifying, ensuring Lando could focus on the race without the overwhelming distraction of knowing his favorite person was already there. The last thing anyone wanted was for him to lose focus during such a crucial part of the weekend.

While Lando busied himself with free practice sessions, YN was out exploring the local markets with some of the McLaren team’s family members. She was set to return to the paddock just as Q1 began, hidden away in the garage until the perfect moment.

Oscar had envisioned Lando’s face lighting up with pure joy, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the surprise.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

But things didn’t go quite as planned.

Qualifying that day turned out to be a disaster for Lando. From the very first lap, nothing seemed to go right. He struggled with the car’s balance, fought the understeer in nearly every corner, and couldn’t extract the pace he needed. Sector after sector, frustration built. The radio was filled with agitated comments, and by the end of Q1, he had been knocked out of qualifying altogether, missing the cutoff for Q2 by mere fractions of a second.

When he climbed out of the car, his body language said it all. Lando was livid—frustrated with the car, with himself, and with the result.

His helmet visor remained down longer than usual, as if he wanted to hide his disappointment from the world.

His walk back to the garage was slow, shoulders slumped, as mechanics and engineers exchanged worried glances but kept their distance. No one dared say a word.

Once inside the team’s motorhome, Lando stormed off to his driver’s room, eager for a moment alone. The air in the narrow hallway was thick with tension, and Oscar watched him go as his teammate finally ripped of his helmet, his heart sinking.

He knew Lando was hard on himself, but he also knew what awaited him on the other side of that door.

Lando opened the door to his driver’s room with a frustrated push, expecting to collapse onto the couch and stew in his disappointment. But as soon as he stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat. Standing in the middle of the room, a small, warm smile on her face, was YN.

“Surprise,” she said softly, her eyes twinkling as she took in her brother’s shocked expression.

For a split second, Lando didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at her, as if his brain needed a moment to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. Then, suddenly, it all hit him at once—the weeks of missing her, the frustration of the race weekend, the love he felt for his little sister—and his eyes immediately filled with tears.

“YN...” His voice cracked as he whispered her name.

Without another word, Lando rushed forward and pulled YN into a tight hug, burying his face into her shoulder as if he were afraid she might vanish if he let go.

His arms wrapped around her protectively, squeezing her like a lifeline. YN, used to Lando’s emotional side, simply hugged him back, gently running a hand through his hair.

“I missed you so much,” Lando mumbled into her shoulder, his voice muffled but thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I missed you too, Lan,” YN whispered, a soft laugh escaping her. “Oscar helped organize it. He said you’ve been whining about me non-stop.”

Lando laughed, a watery chuckle escaping him as he finally pulled back to look at her, his hands still resting on her shoulders. His eyes were red and glassy, but his smile was the brightest it had been in weeks.

“You have no idea how much better this makes everything,” he said, his voice still shaky with emotion. “I had the worst qualifying. But... you're here now.”

YN smiled at him, brushing a tear from his cheek. “I’m sorry I missed qualifying, but I’m here for the race tomorrow. We’ll celebrate then, okay?”

Lando nodded, pulling her back into another tight hug, resting his chin on top of her head. “I don’t care about the race right now,” he muttered, his voice soft. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

For the next few minutes, they simply stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten.

Lando’s earlier frustrations seemed to evaporate, replaced by a warmth that only YN could bring him. He felt calmer, more grounded, like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door, and Oscar poked his head in with a cheeky grin. “You okay in here? Thought I’d check in before I’m accused of kidnapping your sister.”

Lando turned around, still holding YN close, and flashed Oscar a grateful smile. “Mate, I don’t even know what to say. You’ve made my year.”

Oscar laughed, stepping into the room. “I figured you could use a pick-me-up. I was getting tired of the constant whining.”

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Suddenly, Lando’s mood shifted entirely, the disappointment from qualifying now a distant memory.

His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Right, we need to introduce you to everyone!” He glanced down at YN, who chuckled in response.

“I’ve already met some of them,” she teased, “but I’m sure they’ll appreciate your grand tour.”

“Trust me, it’s different when I introduce you,” Lando said proudly, his arm slung around her shoulders. He led her out of the room, a new energy in his step as if the earlier qualifying session had never even

With his little sister by his side, the world already looked a lot brighter than it did that morning.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x sister!reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x norris!reader #norris!reader #baku 2024 #azerbaijan #formula one #formula 1 x female reader #-xoxo #xoxo babygirl 💋

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no-144444 · 4 months ago

Text

whiplash- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist.

pls remember this is fiction and purely for fun!

(HOLY SHIT THEY WON THE CONSTRUCTORS!!!!!!!)

(dw i have many fics planned for the end of season stuff, so be prepared for them to come out in the next week or so!)

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Recovery after the crash was pretty straight forward, no bright lights, too much screen time, or loud noise for 2 weeks, and thankfully, you had a month off.

Only problem? Someone had to take care of you for those two weeks, and that someone was Oscar Piastri.

And what a roommate he was. He unloaded your things from the car as you unlocked the door to your house, letting him in, and he didn’t let you carry a thing. He sent you straight to bed while he made some sort of bland, diet-approved dinner for the two of you and brought it up to you with very little speaking. You enjoyed it though, listening to some random youtube video at a very low volume, and then you just slept, despite the pounding headache you had.

Oscar stayed downstairs, looking around the place. You had a lot of books, which he realised made a lot of sense. You were often reading on race weekends. You had a lot of artwork as well, mostly from what he assumed to be local artists in Monaco, and some from your home country. He walked through room after room, finding more about you as he went on. You liked a specific band, you collected records, you liked stationary (you had a lot of extras in your office), you had two of the same pairs of sunglasses (he assumed it was because you often lost them), you had very few pictures of yourself with friends, but many of just your friends, you had nothing to do with racing anywhere in your home. The only room that had anything remotely racing related was your simulator room, which just had your sim and some team merch you’d been given. He wondered where you kept all of your suits and helmets from other years, where you kept the trophies.

“You’re snooping,” you said from behind him. He jumped, turning to you. The whole house felt so suffocatingly you. You were around each corner, things that reminded him of you were everywhere. It wasn’t easy, like in the garage. He was out of his comfort zone , out of his routine. His plan had been to go home for the break, but now he was taking care of the pretty girl he spoke to over the radio. The bottom line was that he was scared. He was scared he wouldn’t get over the crush, he was scared you’d reject him, and he was scared of his feelings being too obvious and scaring you away. He couldn’t let his months of hard work go to waste over something as silly as his feelings, and he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry without support, half way through the season with a team who didn’t like you. You did look quite cute though, even in the dim light (he’d gone around and closed all of the curtains in the house, only allowing a small amount of light in), tired and groggy, but pretty all the same.

“Just trying to find my bearings,” he smiled. “Did you sleep?”

You nodded. “I’ll show you the guest room,” you said, leaving the doorway and walking away. He followed behind. The conversation didn’t flow as easily as it had before. Oscar felt… surrounded. By you. And he wasn’t sure he was totally upset by it. Everything in this house was you. It made sense, it was your house. He just wasn't… used to it. He followed behind you, staring at the ground as you both walked up the stairs.

“You don’t keep any racing stuff in the house,” he stated.

You shrugged. “Why should I?”

“It’s your passion?” he suggested.

You just stayed silent. “This is your room. There’s a bathroom connected, so if you need anything, just tell me. You have free reign of the house, just obviously not my bedroom… so yeah.”

He nodded. “Thank you, do you need anything for your head?”

You shook your head. “Sleep.”

He nodded. “Text me if you need anything-”

“No screens,” you reminded him. He frowned.

You couldn’t shout, and neither could he, neither of you could text, but you had to communicate somehow. He had an idea. “I have an idea,” he said.

You stared at him expectantly.

“Walkie talkies.”

And you laughed. You genuinely, unashamedly, fully, laughed. And it was a sound he would do anything to hear again. The tension broke. The house didn’t feel as suffocating as it once had, and it felt as easy as being in the garage. He felt himself smile, smiling at you. He liked seeing you smile, the kind of smile that showed your teeth, that made your nose scrunch, that made him see the small glimpse of you.

Not the racer, not the fighter, not the victor. You.

“That works,” you nodded, the smile still on your lips. You looked down for a moment. “Thank you for taking care of me, Oscar. It means a lot. No one’s ever… done this for me.”

He frowned despite himself and cursed himself when he saw that you noticed. “I’m happy to be here. I’m happy that I get to make sure you’re ok.”

You offered him a sad smile, and left him to ‘find his bearings’ in his room. He huffed as he sat on the bed, looking around the room. There was a vanity with a mirror (we wouldn’t use it, but maybe he'd put the sunscreen his sister had been bugging him to use there, just to see if he’d remember to use it in the mornings), aa bed (a king bed, which he was very happy with), bedside tables with some random lights, a wardrobe, a mirror, white walls, hardwood floors, and a big window seat. He looked out into the garden, and it was green. Plants, fruits, vegetables, everything. So that was your hobby. Gardening.

He chuckled. You were full of surprises. He wanted to figure every last one of them out.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

The next few days went quickly, mostly you two were on different schedules. Oscar was working during the way (no rest for any McLaren employee, especially not when you were P2 in the standings), while you slept and stayed up during the night. You went into the garden, caring for your plants all night long, reheated leftovers from Oscar (he was a surprisingly good cook), and listened to podcasts and music (at a low volume).

That all changed when he found you in the garden at 2am, soft music playing as you collected plums from your trees, he smiled.

“Busy?” he called out. You shook your head, placing them in the basket. “I didn’t realise you were such a gardener.”

“It’s peaceful,” you admitted. “Slow.”

“A racecar driver likes going slowly?” he questioned. You rolled your eyes, sitting beside him on the bench.

“Not all of us are the same on and off track, alright?”

He chuckled. “Fine, you got me there,” he admitted, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “What else does F1 driver Y/n Y/l/n like to do?”

And the air shifted for some inexplicable reason. He was too close to you, too personal, too… something. You felt everything tenfold, every hair on the back of your neck standing to full attention. He didn’t mean to make it sound flirty, surely. You told yourself.

He wasn’t even sure of that himself.

“I like dancing,” you answered, your voice soft and small, softer than he’d ever heard you. “When I was a kid I was a dancer. I gave it up for racing, but I still enjoy it.”

He swore he was the one with whiplash. You were so hot and cold. One minute you were telling him about you childhood dreams, the next you were screaming at him over the radio to go fuck himself. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “What about you?”

“I like to spend time with my family,” he admitted. “But you know that.”

You smiled, a small, shy smile, but a smile all the same (aka, he counted it as a win). “They seem fun.”

“They are,” he nodded, smiling brightly. “They’re crazy but I love them.”

“When they come to a race, I’d like to meet them,” you expressed. He stared at you for a moment. He really took you in, sitting there with your legs up against your chest looking nothing like the strong racecar driver you’d made him think was your only personality. He thanked his lucky stars that he got to see you like this. Laid back, shy, reserved, perfect, you.

“I’d like that,” he smiled.

“Me too.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He woke up one night (after 4 whole days of radio silence from the last night you’d spoken) to music playing in the living room. He silently crept downstairs as the smooth voices of Frank Sinatra and Nancy Sinatra filled his ears. There you stood, swaying in your living room in your pjs as you ate your food. Your hair was down, your eyes were closed, your body just swayed. You looked so… free. Sometimes, he forgot you were only 22 (only a year younger than him, but whatever). You didn’t have regular friends that you could just talk to, you had colleagues who worked for the same team as you. You had no family support, you were effectively alone.

But you had him, and he reminded himself of that as he sat on the last step, watching you truly let go.

“You should join me,” you said, eyes closed, but still noticing his presence. “Dancing is good for your health.”

“Is it now?” he smirked, getting up and joining you, despite the nerves in his stomach.

You nodded, wrapping an arm around his neck, your eyes still firmly closed. “It’s physical exercise.”

He nodded, placing his hands on your waist. He leaned as close as he could to your face, studying every detail he could. Every freckle, every crinkle of your eyes, every acne scar, all of it. And he thought you were perfect.

Your eyes opened, and you had a small smile on your lips, standing on his feet as he swayed you both. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re worth staring at,” he admitted.

“Smooth,” you chuckled. Again, whiplash.

You laid your head against his chest, letting him take the lead for a few moments. “Oscar?”

He hummed.

“Thank you for being my friend. I’ve never had one of those before. It’s really nice.”

As much as your confession broke his heart, he was glad he could be your friend, even if he hoped he could be something more.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Zandvoort rolled around, and the garage was buzzing. You were catching Max, only 30 points between the two of you, as the title fight truly began. The RB20 was falling back, and you were only getting quicker. 5 wins under your belt. Monaco, Canada, Austria, UK, Hungary. You were a winner, and a podium anywhere else. Lando was only falling further behind, as the team shifted their focus to you. You got more attention, more praise, more weight on your shoulders. More people came to you, treated you with respect, acted differently.

It was a lot. You were overwhelmed.

But Oscar stayed the same. Always the voice of reason, the voice of calm in the storm that was F1. He was calm over the radio, celebrating with you when you crossed the line first.

You’d won on max’s home turf. That was truly something.

“You’ll go on the podium with me, right?”you asked as you crossed the line.

He smiled in the garage, blushing slightly. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Something worth celebrating!” Zak cheered as he entered the garage.

You were soaked in champagne, but happy all the same. It had been a hard season, but you were trudging on and continuing, looking forward to the things on the horizon. You were the woman with the highest points scored, ever. You had multiple wins in a row. You were in the title fight. You were a rookie.

“Something to be proud of,” Oscar nudged your arm, smiling as he sat beside you in the debriefing room. You offered him a soft smile.

“Thanks Osc,” you answered, unaware of the way you’d made his heart beat far too fast for something as simple as a nickname.

“Stop eye-fucking each other,” Lando scoffed.

“Stop trying to fuck her races up, then come back to me,” Oscar shot back. Lando did have some sort of love for fucking up your races (cough cough Belgium cough cough).

Lando shut up.

It was nice to have someone in your corner.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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starshoyo · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! I think I talk on behalf of all the fandom when I say that I need a second part of that suna!fake boyfriend scenario/fic, just saying

Lots of love uwu

FAKE BOYFRIEND II ★

PAIRING Suna Rintarou x fem! reader

WARNINGS aggressive behavior (from ex)

TAGS suna’s protective asf, your ex is still an ass

IN WHICH your ex waits for you outside of your home, and Suna just happened to be there at the right time

A/N Thank you for the support! Hope you enjoy <3

<- 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑��𝐈𝐒𝐓

EVER SINCE THAT day, you had a small war within yourself, pondering whether to ask Suna out or not. Well, you were planning to disguise it by telling him you wanted to treat him dinner as thanks. It took you a week before you finally sent him a message.

To your surprise, he replied almost instantly, and you had ended up texting throughout the night. On your first “date”, you were so nervous that it would be awkward between the two of you, especially because you were practically polar opposites.

You found out that Suna was full of surprises, because he had the same interests as you. He liked the same movies you did, and listened to the music you listened to. You found yourselves having deep conversations, and slipping into small talk in repetition just as easily.

Not to mention how much of a gentleman he was. The movements were automatic and subconscious, but they still made your heart pound. He would open doors for you, pull out your chair, and held your purse. When you went to the bathroom, you came back to the bill already paid.

Chivalry wasn’t something you were used to, and it definitely wasn’t something Takeshi cared about.

You learned that Suna was a tattoo artist, who also helped out at Atsumu’s garage once in a while, fixing street race cars. He was the complete opposite as you, who was in college, working part time at a cafe. Still, you clicked instantly.

You lived in a two story apartment complex, and after your nth date with Suna, he walked you home. Takeshi still texted you time to time, so you finally blocked him weeks ago. You hadn’t seen him since, and you definitely didn’t expect to see him today.

Suna grinned down at you as you gave him back his jacket that he lent you. It was now fall, about a month since you’ve first met Suna. The sun had long set under the horizon, and the two of you stood under the star filled skies.

“Thanks for today.” He hummed, a gentle finger placing a strand of hair behind your ear. You found yourself leaning into his warm touch, craving more. “I want to see you again, soon.” You said so softly that you weren’t sure if he even heard.

But he indeed heard it, resisting the urge to lean down and press a firm kiss into your soft hair. So instead, he brushed his thumb against your cheek affectionately. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He smiled, fingers sliding away from your reddening cheek.

“Bye.” You whispered. He watched you as you turned, climbing the steps to your apartment on the second floor. You felt his gaze burning holes into your back, your heart pounding in your ears. When you were finally out of his sight, he turned on his heel, a slight bounce in his step as he walked away.

Your eyes were on the floor as you walked towards your door, biting your lips and trying to contain the silly smile on your face. You giggled at a memory, tips of your ears impossibly redder.

You had only finally noticed that someone was standing in front of your door when their feet came into your sights, and you looked up, surprised.

Surprise quickly turned into fear when you saw the familiar face of Takeshi, who was leaning against the wall next to your door. He raised a brow, kicking off the wall. “Well, finally. I’ve been waiting for an hour, now.” He mumbled, as if he had told you he would be here.

His presence was like cold water being splashed onto the warm embers of your date, snuffing out any giddiness you felt. The smile was wiped off your lips, and when you took a step back, he wasted no time maneuvering his body so he caged you between your door and him.

Your legs shook in fear, but you scowled as you glared up at him. “What are you doing here, Takeshi?” You spat through grit teeth, pressing yourself against your door and trying to get more space between the two of you.

His hands were planted on the sides of your head, expression filled with irritation. “You know what I’m doing here. You blocked me, didn’t you?” He huffed, voice deep and eyes a little crazy.

Your heart was pounding in your ears for a different reason now, balling your hands into fists to stop them from trembling. “I had every right to block you. We’re not dating anymore, Takeshi. Get that through your thick skull.”

You flinched as he punched the space next to your head. Your eyes widened at his outburst, all confidence gone. “No, you listen to me. We are not done until I say we’re done. You didn’t give me time to explain shit, and then went off to open your legs to another man. How dare you?”

There were a thousand things you wanted to say against his berating words, but they were all stuck in your throat, and all you could do was look up at him with eyes that were starting to water. He was being aggressive, and a hint of alcohol was mixed with every breath that fanned your face.

Suna was three minutes into walking home, when he dug his hands into his jacket pockets for warmth and realized you had left your favorite lipstick in one of them. He smiled gently at the cosmetic, a memory of you talking about how much you loved it floating somewhere in the back of his mind.

He turned around, heading back. Maybe it was an excuse to see you one more time before the end of the day.

He walked up the steps, turning the corner to walk down the hall that lead to your door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw another man there.

It was a familiar man, a frame he had seen before. Short, lanky, and most definitely Takeshi. Suna was frozen for a second, registering what was happening in his head. But when he realized that you were crying, and Takeshi was practically barking in your face, his body moved before he could come to a decision.

Suna fisted a hand into Takeshi’s shirt, a violent smack echoing through the night as his fist connected with the latter’s jaw. You gasped, body still pressed against the door, chest heaving.

“I swear, if you ever talk to her like that,” Suna huffed, a growl underlying each breath. He was furious, that was for sure. You weren’t sure if you were terrified of the fact that he had just smacked the shit out of Takeshi, or the fact that there was a small part of you that loved his protectiveness.

“If I ever even see you again, I’ll fucking kill you.” He finished, before taking the keys in your hand. He unlocked the door, hand on your waist and leading you inside. You couldn’t even see if Takeshi got up or not before Suna’s slammed the door behind him, locking it.

It was then that he finally took a breath, facing the door with his back turned to you. There was silence for a couple heart beats, both of you not sure what to say next. What… what just happened?

Suna was the first to speak up. “I’m sorry.”

His words were soft, all the anger inside him flushing out and instead filling with guilt. Your head reeled back in confusion. “You’re sorry?”

He turned around, and it pained you at how disappointed he looked, scrunching his brows. “I didn’t- I shouldn’t have-” He stuttered, the words dying at the tip of his tongue every attempt. You frowned, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him down into a tight hug.

He was taken off guard at first, standing as stiff as a board, before finally melting into your touch and returning the embrace. “Thank you for saving me. Again.” You whispered into his skin, sending a chill down his spine.

His strong arms wrapped around your middle, holding you like you were fragile, despite the fact that he had displayed his strength just seconds ago. Unsaid words were exchanged during that hug, heart to heart.

He pulled away, and you almost held him tighter, trying to get him back in your space, when he pressed his lips against yours. It was soft and warm, but sent sparks like fireworks throughout your entire frame.

His hands held the sides of your face now, lips moving in perfect sync. All words that were afraid to be said had been communicated in that short moment, and when you pulled apart, he looked into your eyes with such adoration that you thought you would melt into a puddle in that spot.

“Let me protect you, (Name). Let me be yours.” He said in a hushed tone, thumbs brushing your cheeks gently. You held the hands on your face, nodding furiously, like he had just gifted you the stars. “Be mine, Rin.”

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mrsfancyferrari · 10 months ago

Text

Real Love

Summary: You and Carlos were just supposed to be a PR couple for less than a year but someone decided to catch feelings.

Song: Love Story - Indila

Part 2

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 8.6k

MASTERLIST - F1

It all started as a simple PR arrangement between you, a well-known influencer, and Carlos Sainz, the Formula 1 driver. We were both told it would only last less than a year - just long enough to boost our public profiles and create some buzz. Little did we know, someone had other plans.

At first, it was easy enough. We attended events together, posted cute couple photos on social media, and played the part of the perfect pair. The chemistry between us felt natural, which made the whole charade convincing.

Your routine was simple enough.

You and Carlos would meet up at his house and he would drive you both to the paddock while sharing a small conversation about what happened in your jobs in the last weeks.

The roar of the engines and the excited chatter of the fans would fill the air around you.

As you reach the Ferrari garage, Carlos turns to you. "I've got some meetings with Charles to attend to, but you're free to explore or chat with the other drivers' partners if you'd like. I'll catch up with you in a bit, okay?"

You nod, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Sounds good. I'll be around if you need me." With a smile, you part ways, ready to take in the bustling atmosphere of the Ferrari garage.

Because of your ‘relationship’, you were able to make friends with your current bestie, Lily Muni.

You and your close friend Lily would often engage in candid discussions about your romantic entanglements, particularly your faux relationship with Carlos. Despite being the sole confidante privy to the fact that your connection with Carlos was entirely fabricated, Lily wholeheartedly embraced the role of your number one supporter and "shipper."

She would enthusiastically encourage you, even though she was fully aware that your purported love affair was merely a façade maintained for the benefit of others.

"So what's going on with you these days?" Lily asked curiously since you hadn't seen her in a few weeks. You knew that she wanted to know more about your relationship but it was still the same.

"Lily, I don't know what you're waiting for," You replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "We're going to be like this until the contract ends."

Lily looked at you with a knowing look, smiling at your denial, "Not until one of you decides to confess, I bet it's gonna be Carlos. I see where his eyes go when you're not looking."

You can feel your cheeks heat up at Lily's teasing words, and you quickly avert your gaze, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Blushing, you try to hide your embarrassment by taking another sip of your coffee, hoping to distract yourself.

Deep down, you couldn't deny the flutter of hope that Lily's words sparked within you, secretly wishing that her prediction would come true and Carlos would finally reveal his true feelings.

"Come on, Lily, you know it's all just for show," you say with a nervous laugh, hoping to dismiss any romantic notions. Deep down, however, you can't help but wonder if there might be some truth to her playful observations.

Lily chuckles mischievously, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I know, I know. But you can't blame me for hoping, can you? Sometimes, even the most make-believe romances have a way of turning real."

You nodded before thinking of her words, realizing that there were indeed moments when Carlos's gaze lingered a little longer, or when his touches felt a little more intentional. Maybe, just maybe, Lily's playful observations held more truth than you were willing to admit.

As you sat there with your coffee, a newfound sense of curiosity and anticipation began to take root within you, wondering if this faux relationship could possibly evolve into something genuine and heartfelt.

You would be lying if you said that you didn't have a crush on Carlos. His charm and the way he made you feel special were undeniable. It wasn't just the little moments or his playful gestures, it was the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he was near.

Every time he looked into your eyes, it felt like there was something more behind his gaze. And now, with Lily's playful observations, the possibility of those feelings being reciprocated started to flicker in your mind, making your heart race with anticipation.

But you knew that breaking the rules of the PR contract because of your feelings was not an option. You couldn't risk jeopardizing the professional relationship and the project you had been working on together.

Besides, you reminded yourself, sometimes it's better to keep a crush as a secret, unrequited admiration rather than risking the potential fallout that could come from crossing that line.

So, you decided to bury those feelings deep down, focusing on the task at hand and maintaining a professional demeanor, even if your heart still fluttered every time Carlos entered the room.

It was a bittersweet realization, but one that you knew was necessary for the sake of your career and the project's success.

After catching up with Lily, you had to head back to the Ferrari garage to see Carlos one more time before he goes to the first sprint of the race, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to put on your best poker face, to hide the feelings that threatened to spill over.

This would be the last time you allowed yourself to indulge in this fantasy, the last time you let your heart flutter at the sight of him. From now on, it would be all business, all focus, and no room for what-ifs and maybes.

As you entered, you found Carlos focused on preparing for the race, his eyes fixed on the car before him. You couldn't help but admire his dedication and skill, a reminder of why you were drawn to him in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, ready to wish him luck and carry on with your professional duties.

But as you stood there, your eyes locked with his, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more beneath the surface, something that Lily's playful observations had hinted at.

As he smiled at you and gestured for you to come over, a glimmer of hope ignited within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between you two, despite the professional boundaries. But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the risks involved and the importance of staying focused on the task at hand.

With a smile, you returned his gesture and walked over, ready to offer your well wishes for the race.

As soon as you got close enough, his hand sneaked across your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced as he pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

The world seemed to stand still for a moment as the warmth of his touch and the sweetness of his kiss enveloped you. It was a moment of pure bliss, a confirmation that there was indeed something more between you two.

But as quickly as it happened, reality came crashing back.

You pulled away, your heart pounding with a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

That was normal for you two. It doesn't mean anything.

"Good luck with your race," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you glanced from his lips to his eyes and saw that he did the same thing, a spark of connection flickered between you, leaving you wondering if there was more to this moment than either of you were willing to admit.

“Mi amor, I will definitely win with you being my good luck charm,” He said, smirking at the affect his words still had on you.

Reluctantly, you watched as Carlos tore his gaze away from you and focused on the final preparations of his car. With a heavy heart, you knew that this fleeting moment of connection would have to be set aside for now.

He had a race to win, and you had your own professional duties to attend to. As he climbed into the driver's seat and drove off to the starting line, you could only hope that the universe would bring you together again, when the time was right. . . .

Carlos ended up being first in practice 1, which was very surprising for everyone. His skill and determination were evident as he flawlessly maneuvered the twists and turns of the track, leaving his competitors in the dust.

The cheers and applause from the crowd filled the air, but amidst the excitement, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for Carlos. . . .

╔═ * . · : · . ✧ ✦ ✧ . · : · . * ═╗

╚═ * . · : · . ✧ ✦ ✧ . · : · . * ═╝

As you sat on Carlos's bed, waiting for him to finish dressing up. You couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Carlos and you had to go to an event together so you were now sitting on his bed, all dolled up.

The dress you were given to wear to the event was a stunning crimson masterpiece. Its vibrant hue perfectly represented the fiery spirit of Ferrari, mirroring Carlos's passion and determination on the racetrack.

The fabric gracefully hugged your curves, accentuating your figure in all the right places. The bodice was beautifully adorned with intricate lace detailing, adding a touch of elegance to the ensemble. The dress flowed effortlessly down to the floor, creating a mesmerizing silhouette as you walked.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel a sense of empowerment and confidence.

You glanced at the clock, realizing that time was running out. You hoped that Carlos would hurry and join you soon.

As you read the Twitter comments questioning the authenticity of your relationship with Carlos, a wave of insecurity washed over you.

Despite knowing the truth of your connection, the doubts planted by strangers made you question your ability to convince fans of your 'love' for each other.

It was disheartening to realize that no matter how real your feelings were, they could still be perceived as fake by those who only saw glimpses of your lives through social media.

"Carlos?" you knocked on the bathroom door, wanting to know what he was still doing as they needed to go.

As you waited for a response, you couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling the same pressure and scrutiny from fans as you were, and if it was affecting his confidence as well.

"Yes cariño, you can come in," you heard his voice and you decided to open the door.

As you entered the bathroom, the sight of Carlos's bare back took your breath away. His muscles rippled under his smooth skin, and the towel that hung loosely around his waist only added to the allure.

His toned muscles glistened with droplets of water, and you couldn't help but appreciate the physical strength and athleticism that made him a champion on the racetrack.

You tried to maintain composure, but it was impossible to tear your eyes away from him. You were suddenly aware of the growing heat in the room, a reflection of the intense chemistry that existed between the two of you.

He turned to face you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased, causing your heart to race even faster.

You quickly averted your gaze, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Sorry," you stammered, turning around to give him privacy. "I didn't realize you weren't dressed yet."

"It's okay cariño, since you're here, do you mind rubbing my back? It's hard to reach sometimes," He asked, gesturing to the bottle close to you on the shelf but still not turning around and applying some lotion onto his face.

"Sure Carlos," you replied.

You took a small amount of lotion in your hands and began to gently rub it onto Carlos's bare back, your fingers gliding smoothly over his muscles.

As you worked your way from his shoulders down to his lower back, you couldn't help but admire the strength and resilience they represented.

The physical contact eased the tension that had been building up in his back, making him stop what he was doing and sigh in relief.

"Am I that good?" you teased.

Chuckling, Carlos' eyes were still closed in bliss. "Well, cariño, you have magic hands. I've never felt so relaxed. Maybe I should consider hiring you as my personal masseur," he muttered.

Giggling softly, you replied, "Well, it seems like I have a hidden talent then. I can give you a massage after your races if you'd like."

"Yes please cariño," He pleaded.

You were taken aback by the intensity of his plea, and the way his voice resonated in your ears sent a shiver down your spine. Your cheeks flushed even deeper as you realized the effect you had on him, and a mix of excitement and nervousness washed over you.

"Y/N? Why did you stop?" Carlos asked, finally turning around to face you, his eyes locked with yours.

The electricity in the room seemed to intensify as you found yourself lost in his gaze, unable to find the words to explain the sudden halt in your actions.

"Carlos, we have an important event to go to. We can't waste time here," you reminded him and yourself. You just remembered the event that left your mind as soon as you stepped inside the bathroom.

Carlos pouted at your words, his disappointment evident. He knew that the event was important, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at leaving behind the intimate moment the two of you were sharing.

"We can't just spend a few minutes?" Carlos asked, trying his luck.

"Carlos, this event is about Ferrari," You started, going over to wash your hands. "You have to be there and be there early."

Carlos pouted at your words, remembering the event too. "I guess you're right," he said with a hint of disappointment. "But don't worry, I'll hold you to that promise of a massage later."

"You'll get them soon enough," You replied smiling, walking out of the bathroom, leaving Carlos to change into his suit. . . .

You two had made it to the event half an hour before it was going to start, and as you got out of Carlos' car, you were bombarded with the paparazzi.

Flashbulbs went off incessantly as reporters shouted questions and cameramen jostled for the best angle.

Carlos, being used to this, instinctively shielded you from the chaos, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you towards the entrance, where security personnel were waiting to escort you inside.

As soon as you two had gotten into the building, you were able to breathe, soaking in the momentary calmness before the storm of socializing began.

You glanced at Carlos, his hand still lingering on your waist, and you exchanged a knowing smile, silently reassuring each other that you were in this together.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to gracefully navigate the room, greeting and mingling with the various groups of people in attendance.

Taking a moment to compose yourselves, you scanned the room and spotted familiar faces from various racing teams and sponsors.

Making your way over to each group, you exchanged warm greetings and engaged in small talk, ensuring that you maintained the necessary professional connections in the racing world for Carlos.

"Carlos! Y/N!" a voice called you from in the crowd, and you both turned around to see Benedetto Vigna, the CEO of Ferrari, making his way towards you with a warm smile.

It was a relief to see a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers, and you greeted him with enthusiasm, ready to discuss the future of the partnership between Carlos and Ferrari.

"It's so wonderful to see you both here tonight," he exclaimed, extending his hand in greeting.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Carlos replied, giving him a quick hug with a smile.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Wasn't he the one who wanted to stay at home longer for a massage?

As you and Carlos were about to join Benedetto Vigna for a group picture with Charles and his girlfriend Alexandra, you couldn't help but notice Carlos shooting you a mischievous grin.

"Looks like someone changed their mind about staying at home for massages," you whispered playfully, causing Carlos to chuckle as the camera flashed, capturing the moment of camaraderie between the four of you.

You couldn't help but blush as Carlos leaned in closer, his grip on your waist tightening. "I'm still getting that massage, aren't I?" he whispered playfully into your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You chuckled softly at Carlos's words, feeling a surge of warmth as his grip tightened around your waist. "Of course," you whispered back, leaning into his embrace.

After the group photo, the two of you were approached by the paparazzi, who insisted on taking pictures of just the two of you.

You obliged, striking a pose with Carlos, your smiles radiating with genuine joy and affection. As the camera clicked, freezing the moment in time, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the incredible journey you and Carlos had embarked on together.

Suddenly, you remembered the comments on your relationship being fake crossed your mind. In an impulsive move, you turned to Carlos and whispered, "KIss me."

With that, you leaned in and planted a passionate kiss on his lips, not caring about the prying eyes of the paparazzi.

Carlos, caught off guard by your sudden boldness, responded by deepening the kiss, his lips pressing fervently against yours.

The paparazzi went wild, capturing the genuine love and connection between the two of you, proving once and for all that your relationship was far from fake.

When you were able to separate from each other, you grinned at the paparazzi, reveling in the moment of rebellion and spontaneity. Ignoring the bewildered looks from the crowd, you confidently took Carlos's hand and led him off the stage, eager to escape the prying eyes and enjoy the rest of the night in each other's company.

The paparazzi's cameras continued to flash behind you, capturing the image of two people deeply in love, unafraid to defy expectations and embrace their own happiness.

And that's what you were hoping for.

You two spent the rest of the event, stuck to each other like glue, while effortlessly navigating conversations with important people.

As you mingled and exchanged pleasantries, it became evident to everyone around that your connection was genuine, sincere, and unbreakable. People couldn't help but be drawn to the magnetic energy between you, as you effortlessly charmed and captivated those in your presence.

Carlos made sure to take extra care of you on the drive home, keeping a watchful eye as he navigated the streets.

He gently helped you out of the car when you arrived at your doorstep, ensuring you were safely inside before bidding you goodnight and heading back to his own place.

As you lay in bed, still buzzing with the excitement of the night, you couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky to have someone like Carlos by your side, always looking out for you and making sure you were taken care of.

If only it was all real and genuine. . . .

You woke up with a pounding headache and a foggy memory of the previous night's events. As you tried to piece together what had happened, you received a call from Carlos.

"Hello?" you muttered into the phone sleepily.

"Oh Y/N, were you asleep? I didn't mean to wake up," Carlos' voice came through your phone and you immediately woke up fully.

When you turned on your TV, the camera panned over to Carlos on the phone, and you were surprised to see him there already.

"Carlos! Why are you there already? You should have called me earlier or something?" you groaned at both your headache and the fact that you would have to go to the paddock by yourself instead of with Carlos.

"Cariño, I already told everyone that you were sick but that you were recovering quickly and everyone wished you well." Carlos stated, making you freeze in the middle of trying to get out of bed.

"You what?"

"You don't have to come Cariño, unless you really want to," Carlos really assured you and you could see his worried face on TV.

"Thank you, you saved me big time," you replied, sliding back into your bed with a relieving sigh.

"You're welcome Cariño,"

During the call, you and Carlos briefly chatted before the race was about to begin.

"Put it on video call for a second," Carlos asked quickly and you did it without hesitation, hoping he wouldn't mind your bed hair.

Carlos gave you an air kiss, and you returned one back, a substitute for the good luck kiss you would always give him before switching off the phone.

You couldn't help but smile at the gesture, knowing that Carlos was trying to be considerate in your absence.

"Okay goodbye Cariño, I'll win the race for you."

"Good luck Carlos."

With your spirits lifted, you sat down to watch the race. You watched attentively as Carlos gave it his all, pushing himself to the limits. To your surprise, he managed to secure second place.

As soon as he was able to, he called you. His voice was filled with a mix of joy and frustration.

"Congratulations, Carlos! Second place is still amazing!" you exclaimed with genuine excitement.

However, Carlos's disappointment was evident as he sighed heavily and said, "I know, but I really wanted that first place. I'll keep pushing harder for the next race."

"You did incredible, Carlos! I'm so proud of you," you reassured him. "Second place is a huge achievement, and it shows how much progress you've made. Don't be too hard on yourself. There will always be another race to aim for that first place."

Carlos let out a small chuckle, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "Thank you, Cariño. Your support means everything to me. I won't rest until I reach that top spot."

"Well you can rest at my place with your personal massager waiting for you."

"I can't wait Cariño, I'll see you in the evening," He said happily. A smile could be heard from in his voice and you grinned at that.

You didn't know why you decided to invite Carlos over but now the deed was already done.

As you headed into the kitchen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. You knew how much Carlos loved your homemade tortillas and croquetas, and you wanted to make this evening extra special for him.

The sound of sizzling oil and the aroma of frying potatoes filled the air as you prepared the ingredients, imagining the look of delight on Carlos's face when he tasted the delicious meal you had prepared for him.

You quickly made your way to the bedroom to pick out an outfit that would make you look presentable for Carlos's arrival. After some consideration, you settled on a stylish yet comfortable ensemble—a fitted black blouse paired with high-waisted jeans and a pair of sleek black ankle boots.

To add a touch of elegance, you adorned your neck with a delicate silver necklace and slipped on a matching bracelet.

With your hair neatly styled and a hint of makeup to enhance your natural beauty, you felt confident and ready to welcome Carlos into your home.

Later in the day, there was a knock on your door. When you opened it, there was Carlos, holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Wow, Cariño, you look absolutely stunning," Carlos said, his eyes widening in admiration.

You blushed, not realizing the effect you had on him. "Thank you, Carlos. That's really sweet of you to say," you replied, genuinely touched by his compliment.

"Wow, these flowers are beautiful, Carlos! Thank you so much," you said, genuinely touched by the gesture.

Carlos smiled warmly, his eyes filled with admiration. "You deserve nothing less," he replied softly.

As you led him inside, you were completely unaware of the way Carlos' gaze lingered on you, captivated by your every move. Little did you know, his fascination with you had only grown stronger over time, and he couldn't help but hope that one day you would see him in the same light.

As you entered the dining room, Carlos's eyes widened with excitement as he saw the table set with all his favorite dishes. The aroma of homemade tortillas and croquetas filled the room, making his mouth water.

The warm glow of the candles and the delicious aroma that filled the air made his heart skip a beat. "Oh wow, you've really outdone yourself," he exclaimed, his face lighting up even more. "I can't believe you remembered all my favorites. This is incredible."

"I had to do something for my favourite driver," you teased, having Carlos pull away the chair for you so you could sit down.

"I must admit, being your favorite driver has its perks," Carlos replied with a playful wink, as he took his seat across from you. "But tonight, I'm here as more than just your driver. I'm here to enjoy this wonderful meal with an even more wonderful company."

Raising his glass, Carlos proposed a toast to celebrate their special evening together. "To us," he said, his voice filled with genuine affection. "May this be the first of many unforgettable nights spent in each other's company."

As you savored each bite of the delicious meal, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you and Carlos. Laughter filled the air as you shared stories, dreams, and aspirations.

The setting and shared moments created a deep connection, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for this enchanting evening together. The hours flew by, and before you knew it, the empty plates and wine glasses were a testament to the delightful feast.

As the night progressed, you offered to give Carlos a well-deserved back massage. He gladly accepted and lay down on your couch, allowing you to work your magic. You applied gentle pressure and kneaded the tension from his muscles, feeling the knots melt away under his touch.

As you continued the massage, Carlos's body relaxed, and his mind became more at ease. The two of you watched the race replay on the television, analyzing every turn, every move, and every decision Carlos made.

It was a bittersweet moment as you both discussed the missed opportunities and what could have been done differently, but it also kind of brought you two closer together.

In that moment, Carlos realized that having someone who not only supported him but also understood his passion was truly invaluable.

"I think I should have attacked more at this turn," Carlos explained to you as he watched intensely at the way he drove on TV.

Suddenly he felt a sudden weight on his back and he peeked behind him to see you.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you peacefully slumbering on his back. The warmth of your body against his, coupled with the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath, brought about a sense of tranquility he hadn't felt in a long time.

Carlos gently shifted his position, careful not to disturb your sleep, and decided to stay in that moment a little while longer, relishing in the comfort and contentment of having you by his side.

As he continued watching the race replay, he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that he had found not only a passionate supporter but also a person with whom he could share quiet, intimate moments like this.

You woke up in your bed for the second time in a row without knowing how you even got there in the first place. Confused, you blinked your eyes open and looked around, trying to piece together how you had ended up in your bed again.

The memories of the enchanting evening with Carlos and the comforting massage flooded back, but the details of how you had transitioned from the couch to your bed remained elusive.

It was as if the night had taken on a dreamlike quality, blurring the lines between reality and imagination. . . .

It was the Spanish Grand Prix, and you had the privilege of attending with Carlos for the first time since you've been together.

As you watched from your seat in Carlos' car how the bustling crowd of racing enthusiasts were, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The vibrant red sundress you wore perfectly matched Carlos' spirited personality and love of speed.

You made your way to the entrance, the sun kissed your skin, and the adrenaline in the air heightened the anticipation of witnessing the roaring engines and exhilarating race. It was a moment you would never forget, a celebration of your shared passion and the beginning of many more thrilling adventures together.

As you two emerged from the car, his hand immediately touched your hips, guiding you through the paddock to the Ferrari garage.

As you walked through the crowded paddock, you couldn't help but notice the sea of red surrounding you. It seemed like everyone was wearing the team colors to show their support for Carlos and his racing team.

The vibrant red sundress you chose seemed to blend in perfectly with the atmosphere, making you feel like a part of the action. Carlos looked at you with a smile, appreciating the effort you had put into matching with him.

Occasionally, he would stop to sign autographs for his adoring fans. The anticipation surrounding Carlos was immense, as this was his home track and everyone expected a lot from him.

Before heading off to his meeting, you turned to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Your words were filled with warmth and admiration. You assured him. "I'm proud of you, no matter what happens."

"Thank you Cariño." he said smirking at you.

As you watched Carlos prepare for his race, you realized that this time, you would stay by his side instead of wandering off or meeting up with Lily, as you had often done in the past. This time, you understood that he needed more support before this race even started.

Carlos' home track held a special significance for his performance. Not only did it come with a sense of familiarity and comfort, but it also brought with it the unwavering support of the local fans who had been cheering him on since the beginning.

The energy and encouragement from the crowd fueled his determination to push harder and achieve success in front of his home audience.

You watched as he checked his car with the team, catching him glancing up at you multiple times to see if you were still there. It was clear that your presence meant a lot to him, and you were determined to be his unwavering source of support throughout the race.

As the time approached for the race to start, Carlos took you into a private room. As Carlos pulled you into the private room, a sense of urgency filled the air.

With hungry, heated kisses, his lips passionately explored yours, igniting a fiery desire within you. His strong hands tightly gripped your hips, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

His actions sent shivers down your spine and intensified your longing for him. In that moment, you realized just how much his presence and touch ignited a deep desire within you, making you crave more of his passionate embrace.

You felt a surge of desire and passion, fueled by Carlos' intense affection. The way he held you, kissed you, and expressed his need for you created an irresistible magnetism between the two of you, intensifying your own desire and emotions.

Then, with a final look, he disappeared, leaving you with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

Minutes later, the roar of the engines filled the air, signaling the start of the race. Your heart raced as you awaited the outcome.

Carlos immediately shot off the starting line, his car a blur of speed and determination. He skillfully maneuvered through the pack, steadily gaining ground on the leaders. As the race progressed, it became clear that Carlos was in a fierce battle for first place with Max and Lando, exchanging positions and pushing each other to their limits.

The crowd erupted with excitement, their cheers fueling Carlos' determination to seize the coveted top spot. Lap after lap, he showcased his exceptional racing skills, executing daring overtakes and defending his position with unwavering focus.

The tension in the air was palpable as the race entered its final stages, and it became a nail-biting fight to the finish line.

And then, it happened. The crowd erupted in cheers as Carlos crossed the finish line, victorious. His car sped past, his smile radiating joy and triumph.

As soon as he stepped out of the car, his eyes immediately sought you out.

You melted into his embrace, savoring the taste of victory and the warmth of his touch. The crowd roared around you, but in that moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world. Your hands were cupping his cheeks, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palms, while his hands rested firmly on your hips, anchoring you to the present.

The electrifying chemistry between the two of you was undeniable, and as you looked into each other's eyes, you knew that this victory was not just his, but yours as well.

In that instant, the world seemed to stand still. All your worries and doubts were forgotten. All that existed was the connection between you two.

In that moment, a surge of overwhelming love and pride washed over you. Thoughts of all the sacrifices and challenges you both had overcome flooded your mind, and you couldn't help but feel an immense sense of gratitude for being a part of Carlos' journey to victory.

"I'm so proud of you!" You said loud enough for him to hear over the chants of his name across the platform.

"Thank you Cariño, thank you for supporting me throughout," Carlos said, unable to think straight with the amount of adrenaline coursing through his body.

As the cheers of the crowd continued to echo in your ears, you leaned in and pressed your lips against Carlos' once more, savoring the taste of victory and the sweetness of his kiss. It was a moment of pure bliss, a celebration of their shared triumph.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, knowing that Carlos had to go to the podium to receive his well-deserved trophy.

With a final lingering glance, you whispered, "Go get that trophy, my champion." And with that, he ran off, leaving you with a heart filled with love and pride. . . .

It was the afterparty for Carlos' home win and everyone decided to go to a large club to celebrate.

As the night unfolded, you emerged from the car in a stunning red cocktail dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. The dress featured a plunging neckline and intricate lace detailing, exuding an air of elegance and sophistication.

The silky fabric cascaded down to your knees, swaying gracefully with every step you took. Your outfit was completed with a pair of sleek stiletto heels and a statement clutch, adding a touch of glamour to your ensemble.

As you entered the club, heads turned and whispers of admiration filled the air. The dimmed lights of the venue illuminated the sequins and beads embellishing your dress, creating a mesmerizing sparkle that mirrored the excitement in the room.

As the night progressed, you found yourself drawn into a conversation with the partners of the Formula One drivers.

"We're so proud of Carlos, we can't believe he did it," Lily said proudly, giving you a tight hug.

"Thank you, I can't believe it too," You replied, smiling happily at the memory of Carlos winning a few hours ago.

"It seemed like you were like his main support," Lily teased and your cheeks heated at her words.

"That's- that's not true." You denied it, "I just gave him an encouraging word here and there. It was mostly him that did all the work."

"That's not what Carlos said in his interview," Alexandra said, nudging your shoulder with hers.

Wanting to be a responsible person, you volunteered to be the sober one among you and Carlos. You wanted to allow Carlos to fully enjoy himself without worries, knowing that you would drive him home at the end of the night.

However, the girls in the group had a different idea. They suggested taking shots to celebrate, and despite your reservations, you decided to join the festivities.

As the night went on, the DJ played infectious music, prompting everyone to get up and dance. You found yourself caught up in the rhythm, joining in with the vibrant atmosphere.

Suddenly the music was lowered and you followed everyone's gaze, and to your surprise, there was Carlos walking into the club, holding his trophy high in the air. The crowd erupted into applause, creating a sea of cheering fans.

He made his way through the crowd, making space for himself to pass through. The crowd cleared out, creating a path for him to be in the center, where everyone could see him.

As he stepped onto the stage, the entire club erupted into applause. The cheering echoed through the air, a testament to his dedication and hard work.

You watched from a distance as Carlos delivered his speech, thanking his fans and everyone who had supported him that day. His words were filled with gratitude and humility, and it was evident that he meant every word.

From where you were standing, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in Carlos. He had achieved something extraordinary, and you had the opportunity to witness his moment of triumph firsthand.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a man in the crowd. He seemed particularly interested in you, despite it being widely known that you were already in a relationship with Carlos.

"Hello señorita, are you alone here?" The man asked. Some of his words were slurred.

"Umm, I'm not actually, I came with my friends," You said, trying to look for anyone familiar that was close by to help you.

"Well I don't see them so it's only me and you," he muttered amused by you. Everyone was watching Carlos' speech which meant that no one was going to help you.

"I'm in a relationship," you tried to remind him but that got him more angry.

"Lies! Everyone knows that you and him are in a PR relationship." He yelled, smashing his fist on the table he was leaning on.

You jumped at his actions, wishing someone would look and help you but it was never the case. This left you feeling confused and frustrated, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Just as you were contemplating how to respond, you felt a presence by your side.

Just as you were contemplating how to respond, you felt a presence by your side. It was Carlos. He looked concerned for you but angry at the man flirting with you.

Carlos stood protectively beside you, sending a clear message that you were not alone and that he would not tolerate anyone disrespecting you.

He stepped forward, his voice firm as he said, "I think it's time for you to leave."

The man's confident facade faltered, realizing he had crossed a line. He stammered an apology, his words barely audible, before quickly scattering off into the crowd. Carlos, still standing by your side, maintained his protective stance, his eyes never leaving the man's retreating figure.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful for Carlos' unwavering support in that moment.

Carlos then stood in front of you, holding your hands in his, "Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You shook your head, thankful that the situation didn't escalate further. "No, I'm okay. He was just being aggressive and disrespectful," you replied, feeling a mix of emotions.

Carlos squeezed your hands reassuringly, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and relief. "I'm glad you're safe. Let's stay together for the rest of the evening, okay? I won't let anything happen to you," he said, his protective nature shining through.

As Carlos guided you through the crowded room, his hands firmly on your waist, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and security. It was as if he was determined to keep you close, not wanting to lose sight of you again.

You leaned into his touch, grateful for his presence and the way he made you feel safe in a world that had seemed so uncertain just moments ago.

Eventually, you found the rest of the group and shared with them what had happened. Concerned for your well-being, they all agreed to stick together for the rest of the night, ensuring that everyone felt safe and protected.

As the evening went on, you felt a sense of unity and support among your friends, and the initial fear and uncertainty began to fade away.

Together, you formed a tight-knit circle, laughing, dancing, and enjoying each other's company, grateful for the strength and solidarity you found in one another.

All the boys decided to let the girls let loose and have a few drinks, taking on the role of guardians for the night.

They made sure the girls were safe, monitoring their alcohol intake and ensuring they were comfortable and protected.

It was a gesture of care and respect, fostering an environment where everyone could have a good time without any worries.

"Babe," you whined, clinging onto your boyfriend so you wouldn't fall to the ground.

Carlos chuckled, his eyes filled with both surprise and amusement at your playful whining. He tightened his grip around you, refusing to let you slip off.

"Oh, so you're trying to escape, huh?" he teased, pulling you closer and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Nice try, but I've got you. I won't let you fall, my love."

"Escape? Who said anything about escaping?" you replied with a mischievous grin, playfully swaying your body to the rhythm of the music.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge gleaming in his eyes. "Well, then show me your best dance moves, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you off the hook," he teased.

As the romantic melody filled the air, you and Carlos locked eyes, the playful banter fading into a tender moment. With a smile, you surrendered to the music, allowing it to guide your movement.

As the music pulsed through your bodies, you let your inhibitions melt away and decided to be more flirtatious with Carlos. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you began to sway your hips and grind your waist against him, teasing him with your seductive moves.

Carlos couldn't help but be captivated by your playful and alluring gestures, his eyes locked on yours, as the chemistry between you intensified on the dance floor.

The flirtatious energy in the air was palpable, as you whispered teasing promises in his ear, leaving him craving more of your touch.

"Mi amor, you better stop before you start something I won't stop," Carlos muttered into your ear, a playful warning laced with desire.

You laughed softly, feeling a surge of excitement at his words. "Oh, really? And what if I want to start something you won't stop?" you whispered back, your voice laced with a hint of seduction.

Carlos' eyes darkened with desire, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Then, mi amor, be prepared for a night you won't forget," he replied, his voice low and filled with anticipation

He leaned in and his lips crashed against yours, his kiss lingering for a few moments. You felt your heart flutter and your stomach knot as you melted into him, your body responding to him as if on autopilot.

You felt a wave of warmth wash over you as you gave in to the moment.

The night unfolded in a blur of passion and desire. Your memory of the events that followed became hazy, fragmented, and ultimately, nonexistent.

All you knew was that you had surrendered to the intoxicating connection between you and Carlos, allowing it to sweep you away into a realm where time stood still and only the sensations of pleasure remained. . . .

"Guys, we're going home," Carlos told the others while supporting you, his protective arm wrapped around your waist. As you stumbled slightly, still lost in the haze of passion, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his presence, knowing that he would take care of you every step of the way.

The night air was cool against your flushed skin as you stumbled towards Carlos' car. The events of the night replayed in your mind, a mix of excitement and contentment filling your thoughts.

As you settled into the passenger seat, you glanced at Carlos, a knowing smile passing between you.

As you fell asleep during the drive, Carlos carefully carried you into his house. His touch was gentle and protective. He laid you down on his bed, tucking you in with care before standing back to admire your peaceful form.

The events of the night had left you both physically and emotionally spent, and in that moment, Carlos couldn't help but feel a surge of tenderness towards you.

You woke up in a daze, your surroundings unfamiliar. Blinking away from the remnants of sleep, you realized you were in Carlos' bedroom. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room.

Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered the events of the previous night and the intense connection you shared with Carlos.

As you tried to move, you were slowly pulled into an embrace from behind you, making you jump slightly. Turning around, you saw Carlos half asleep in the bed, shirtless.

Carlos' dark hair was disheveled and sticking up in all directions, a clear sign that he had just woken up. His usually neat and tidy appearance was now replaced by the unkempt look of someone who had been sleeping soundly.

Despite his sleepy state, Carlos' facial features were still prominent. His strong jawline and high cheekbones gave him a rugged, masculine appearance, while his deep-set eyes and furrowed brow suggested a pensive, thoughtful nature.

As Carlos stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his upper body rippled beneath his skin. The defined contours of his chest and arms were a testament to his dedication to physical fitness, even as he fought against the lingering drowsiness of his slumber.

His tousled hair and sleepy expression only added to his allure, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, feeling a flutter of warmth in your chest.

His eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile formed on his lips as he pulled you closer, whispering, "Good morning, beautiful."

"Did we do it?" You questioned shyly, unable to remember anything after they left the club.

"No, we didn't, you fell asleep before we could do anything," Carlos muttered, fighting against the sleep. "We wouldn't do anything either way, you were drunk."

As you remembered what you were doing in the club, you felt embarrassed and ashamed. The intense connection you shared with Carlos had clouded your judgment, and you realized that you were dangerously close to breaking the rules of the PR contract.

If you didn't stop, you knew that the consequences could be severe, jeopardizing not only your professional reputation but also your relationship with Carlos.

"Carlos, this was only supposed to be temporary, you know?"

"What is?"

"Our relationship."

Carlos then woke up more, resting up against his elbow so he could look at you better. His eyes slowly opened, and a soft frown spread across his face as he gazed at you. He reached out a hand, gently caressing your cheek, his touch warm and comforting.

“You’re talking about the PR contract?”

“Yes, this is what they were worried about, us getting too attached,” you tried to stress your concern but Carlos didn’t look bothered at all.

Carlos fully turned to you, a conflicted look on his face. "I know, I know. But I...I don't think I can just pretend anymore. Not with you."

Your heart raced as he inched closer, his warm brown eyes searching yours. "Carlos, we can't. It'll ruin everything if anyone finds out."

"I don't care," he whispered, cupping your face in his hands. "I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you."

And in that moment, any doubt you had melted away. You pulled him into a passionate kiss, all thoughts of the contract and the façade disappearing. This was real - the feelings you two had developed were undeniable.

His lips met yours with a fervent intensity, the heat between you palpable. All the unspoken emotions you had been harboring came rushing to the surface, igniting a fire within.

The world around you faded away as you lost yourself in his embrace, every touch sending electric shocks through your body.

In that passionate moment, there was no more room for hesitation or uncertainty. This connection you shared was undeniable, transcending any obligations or false pretenses.

It was real, raw, and overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. There was no turning back now - you had given yourself over completely to this man and the feelings you shared.

Whatever happened next, you knew you was in this with Carlos for the long haul. . . .

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regencyconstructionsd · 6 months ago

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redflagshipwriter · 9 months ago

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Fast Car Three (of four)

masterpost

“Why would I ever need help from Victor?” Danny scrunched up his brow and puzzled aloud after his passenger got out. He didn't mean to be rude but he was genuinely confused. Vic seemed nice enough, but he was kinda delicate, wasn't he? He was scared of Batman. What for? He was just some guy who was so risk-averse that he wore a motorcycle helmet out in public. He probably held the world's record for diagnosed anxiety disorders or something.

‘I’m lucky he's so reactive,’ Danny chided himself not to be ungrateful. ‘If he wasn't, like, hyper-vigilant I might have had to talk to Batman. Horrific.’

He shuddered at the thought. He had planned to work a little more, but Danny decided to go back home and rest for a bit. His nerves were a little shot after the excitement of the morning.

Oh, right. He hadn't checked what his tip was yet. Danny unfolded the bills and his eyes bugged out. “This is fifty dollars,” he said incredulously. “He paid me fifty dollars to take him like 10 blocks, with a 50 block detour.”

Was Victor, like, okay? Danny cast a dubious look back in his rearview mirror and caught the barest glance of Victor's ridiculously jacked form disappearing into one of the murder warehouses. What a guy. Why'd he do-

“He was hitting on me?” Danny's voice reached a whistle pitch. Ah! Ah!!! Holy shit. What the hell? His face burnt red and he floored it back to his apartment complex, trying to get his heart rate under control.

It was so obvious in retrospect! The weird awkward pauses in conversation! The huge tips! Asking for his number!

Danny pulled to a stop at a yellow light rather than run it explicitly so that he could bang his head against the steering wheel.

“I don't even know if he's hot,” Danny wailed. Instantly he knew it was a lie. He didn't know what Victor’s face looked like. He didn't remember what the photo had looked like anymore and the information was long gone. But he knew that Victor was tall, fit as fuck, and had really nice hands.

Danny bit his lip and howled sadly. It helped, a little. He stole a glance at the receipt with Victor's phone number on it. He couldn't help but memorize the number.

“I'm not going to call,” Danny told himself. Even if it was flattering. Victor might be a sketchy guy! Only sketchy people were out at the hours Danny worked. Danny couldn't afford association with anyone like that because he needed the authorities to never ever look at him.

Also, and probably more importantly: you can't go to medical school if you have any kind of criminal record. If Danny was going to be Doctor Fenton the fourth and be able to provide his and Ellie's medical care, he needed to be a model citizen. He couldn’t trust that Vic would keep him out of whatever weird shit he was involved in.

Well. It wasn't like he was complicit in anything. Danny parked his beloved shitty car in the garage and took the stairs up to his apartment. He opened the door, saw Batman in his kitchen, and closed the door.

“Fuck.”

Danny turned intangible and dropped like a rock through the floors. He was back in the driver's seat in less than 5 seconds. He turned it on and called Victor with one hand, because he'd just gotten the guy's number and he didn't exactly know a lot of Gothamites. “Hey, what do I do if Batman is in my apartment?” He said as soon as it connected. He turned the car on and peeled out onto the street.

“Wha- move, I guess. Is he there for fucking real?” Victor's electronic voice somehow managed to come across incredulous. “You probably shouldn't go back there. You're in your car?” A horn honked in the background. “You're faster,” Victor said. His confidence gave Danny a little. “I'll send you my gps point. Come to me and we can strategize how to get him off your tail.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, and violently repressed the part of him asking why this nervous ass Gothamite would know any better than he did. At least Victor was a local. His phone pinged and he opened up the address. “Got it.”

“See you soon.” Victor hung up.

Danny burnt rubber out of there, heart all the way up in his throat. Why was Batman after him? What did he know? He gasped for air, feeling like he was choking. He needed to be normal. He needed to- to get his degree and get his career and never ever have a whole fucking militaristic brancho of the government after him. He was one guy. When he was 14 he'd thought it was a funny game and the GIW were a bunch of chumps. But they were a bunch of chumps with money, weapons, and numbers. He couldn't afford to fuck with them. The fact that his parents gritted their teeth through associating with the GIW was the only thing that kept suspicion off of Danny.

He cycled through a panic attack and then into anger. What the hell, dude? Danny got that Batman had a bee up his ass about metahumans “in his city” (like he fucking owned it??) but Danny wasn't causing crime or fighting it. He was going to classes and trying to survive. Batman had no right to get involved in his business.

He was steaming mad by the time he pulled up to where Victor was waiting for him. Victor hauled open an old style garage door and ushered him in quickly. Danny parked inside and sighed over the steering wheel. It took a few moments to center himself and then he got out. “Hey.” He lifted a hand in greeting and then shoved it in his pocket, feeling unimaginably weary. It wasn't even 5 am, jeeze. What was his life? “Thanks for answering.” He cleared his throat and bumped his butt against the hood of his car. “Helluva morning,” he complained dryly.

“It's no problem.” Victor seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the other parking space. Either that or he was posing. “It's not your fault.”

Danny let out a snort. “It's not, but what does that matter?” He shrugged. And then he realized- “Wait, do you know what I am- scratch that.” He made a hand gesture to wave that away. Victor had known what Amity Park was offhand and he'd had a chance to see Danny phase the car through solid matter. “I guess what matters more is why Batman is on my ass. D’you think he knows?”

Victor looked at him for a long time. “No…”

“No, what?” Danny narrowed his eyes up at the taller man.

“I don't think Batman knows that you're…” Victor made a gesture at Danny that explained nothing. “Whatever you are. I think he wants to ask you what you know about me.”

Danny stared blankly at him. “About you,” he echoed. He gave Victor a dubious look. “Why would he care about you?”

Victor lifted a gloved finger and pointed at his helmet as if that was supposed to mean something. Danny tilted his head to the side like a bird and raised one eyebrow. “Because I'm the Red Hood?” Victor said dubiously. “You know that, right?”

“You're Victor,” Danny said. He furrowed his brows. “Is - is The Red Hood like, your drag persona or something? Cool for you but it's not really relevant -”

Victor tore off the helmet to reveal a face that was a lot younger than Danny had anticipated. “It's not a drag persona,” he snapped. “It's- I'm the Red goddamn Hood! You have to have seen me on the news!”

Danny mutely shook his head. He thought about saying that he didn’t watch the news, but he sort of felt bad for the guy. It was probably safer not to comment.

“It's been non-stop,” Victor said, and Danny could really tell how incredulous he felt without that goofy voice filter effect removing the pout from his voice. “I dropped 13 human heads off at the police station yesterday. Come on!”

He blinked.

Wait.

One.

Second.

“You had me take you to the police with contraband?” Danny roared, incandescent with fury.

“Uh.” Victor looked a little shifty now, even with that dweeb ass mask covering from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. “Yeah, I guess-”

“I'm going to go to medical school!” Danny roared, and suplexed the bastard. Victor went down with a howl and a valiant attempt to dig out Danny's eye with his bent index and middle fingers. Danny went selectively intangible and rolled them both over to start slapping Victor on his stupid face. “I-” slap “can't” slap “have” slap “a criminal record!” He leaned so far forward that his lips were nearly touching Victor's. “Capiche?” Danny jabbed a finger into Victor's stupidly ripped chest.

“Um.”

“Capiche? Understand? Do you get my meaning?” Danny howled. “I am an illegal entity! My paperwork is suspect!” He dug his knees a little harder into Victor's sides, struggling to control his strength.

“Hey man, me too,” said Victor. He seemed mildly surprised by this commonality. “That's why I can't get a driver's license.” He put his hands up by his head. The movement made his incredible biceps sort of…pulse. Bulge?

Danny blinked, attention caught by something about what Victor had said. “How'd you get your Uber account verified without- oh my god!” He threw his hands up in disgust. “You're not even Victor, are you? Your first word to me was a lie?”

Not-Victor laughed. Danny was surprised enough that he loosened his grip. But the other guy didn't try to get out. “You're fun,” he said. He had a nice smile, crooked and kissable. Oh, fuck.

Danny felt his whole face burn red. Shit. Abort. He scrambled up, suddenly mortified that he was sitting on the other guy. “What's your name?” he demanded, trying to sound unaffected and mean.

“Jay.”

“You're sure this time?” Danny managed to work up a little more indignation.

“Hands to god, on my grave,” Jay promised. Danny sort of hated that he believed it.

Danny relented. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had any moral high ground to stand on about maintaining secret identities, if he was honest. He huffed and crossed his arms. “How do I get Batman off my ass? I'm guessing you don't want me to talk to him about you.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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snoopychris · 5 days ago

Text

fully introducing snoopy!chris and woodstock!reader

chris remembers the conversation he had with matt so vividly. semi vividly. to be completely honest, he hardly remembers anything at all. something along the lines of ‘she’ll be hurt if you say that.’ at least, that’s what he thinks matt said. he wishes he could remember a little bit of the conversation, but it couldn’t have been that important if he didn’t. he should’ve felt bad for the way he was ending this relationship. most people would. but not this relationship. not today. not chris.

“look mikayla it’s not me, it’s you.” chris speaks, standing up from the sorority couch he was previously seated in. the girl besides him, face covered in disbelief, scoffs as she looks up at him, standing up to follow him out the door. chris continues on without a care in the world, glancing behind him to face her once more. “can i help you?”

“well… yeah kinda. first of all my name isn’t mikayla… it’s mackenzie… second of all isn’t the phrase… it’s not you it’s me?” she asks, furrowing her brows at chris as he continues walking towards his car. chris shrugs smugly, clicking the button to make his getaway more accessible.

“it probably is but… i wasn’t really the problem here so. you know… live a good life or whatever they say. to be honest i don’t… really care. so. later i guess.” chris smirks as he climbs into the drivers seat of his old, beatdown, volkswagen beetle. it makes him look stupid sometimes, but a car is a car. he won’t complain. not about this anyway. its still all his. some guys his age dont even have a drivers license. Chris chuckles to himself as he parks in the garage of his apartment complex, strutting his way into his apartment.

theres a few stray puppies that are standing by the door that chris wishes he could help, but the no dogs allowed sign on the door forbids him from doing it. he cant get kicked out of another complex. if he did, then it wouldve been nearly every building that was affordable for him. his keys jangle as he walks into his space, slamming the door behind him shut. he licks his lips for a moment before taking a seat on the couch next to matt, crossing his legs as he props them up on the coffee table.

“and thats zeta tau alpha done. you truly underestimate me. one girl from each sorority on campus. dumped by me. only took me 6 weeks too.” matt scoffs at chris’ persistence on completing the “challenge” that was realistically nothing more than a drunk blabber. the beer bottle in matts hand is placed down on the table rapidly, the disappointment in his face settling. matt bites his bottom lip as if to watch his mouth– to sensor his thoughts. he doesnt have the heart to tell his brother the things hes really thinking. maybe some other time.

“that's two girls per week on average and its incredibly sad of you to do. they all have feelings y’know. “ to some extent, chris knows that matts right. he was always the smarter brother to begin with. Chris shrugs slightly as he reaches for a swig of matts beer, wincing slightly at the taste. he was never much of a drinker for the taste of it. if anything, it was more for the feeling that it gave him. it took away the feeling of being a disappointment.

it wasnt always this way. ages ago, chris had some sort of life plan. he would graduate high school with decent grades and take his skills to college. he would play baseball for his schools team while majoring in journalism or some sort of writing. Chris still doesnt know where his plans all went wrong.

a single bump in the road took him down the completely wrong path. as much as he regrets never doing anything with his life the way his brothers had, chris doesnt think hed ever redo any of it. he’s as content as he can be with the place hes in now. it sucks to always be compared to other people, his brothers especially, but there wasnt much he could do about it anymore.

Chris notices the way matts open to speak. its impossible not to. he’s almost afraid of what matts about to say. he expects some sort of lecture. some sort of scolding. something hes unfortunately used to.

“you wanna go to that new coffee shop down the street? Nick asked me to get him a matcha before he got back from his appointment.” matt’s words almost lift a weight off of chris’ chest. he’s never been more relieved to be invited somewhere. Chris nods slowly, his phone on the couch buzzing a few times shortly after he stands up.

matt notices it. matt also notices the way chris does everything he possibly can to ignore it. chris disregards all of it as he walks out the door, not even bothering to grab the keys to his car. matt follows close behind, hooking his carabiner to the loop of his jeans the way he always would.

it was a constant. one of many things matt had that chris didn’t. one of many constants chris wanted at times.

there’s not much exchanged on the ride there. not much needs to be said. there’s not much that should be heard. it’s too much. it’s all too much right now. “down the street” for matt is realistically across town for any other person. it’s a drive that’s quiet. relaxing. it’s a silent prayer, almost, that the ambiance of the coffee shop is the same as the car ride.

when chris walks inside, he wished he had never left the house to begin with. there’s nothing wrong with the place itself. it seems fine. it seems like any other coffee shop. what chris can’t stand— what chris wants to avoid—is the person behind the counter. chris can’t stand you.

he’d seen you around a few times before. you were in a sorority— he wasn’t quite too sure which one, but he also didn’t care enough to find out. every single time he saw you, you were always so bubbly and full of joy. the yellow tint of your bow matched your entire aura. chris hated it.

“hi matt! hi chris!” you cheer, the sway of your ponytail infuriating chris even more. he was one smile away from losing it. albeit, he smiles fakely, tapping his hands on the counter as if it were a drum kit. “what can i get for you guys?”

chris hopes you can’t see the way he rolls his eyes at every single one of your words. his eyes scan the bright menu over and over again, not quite deciding what to get. the smile on your face is still incredibly present. he hesitates for a moment, glancing at your figure and then at matt, who had already ordered both his own drink and nicks.

“just pick something for me. none of your girly pink shit. something strong.” chris requests, clapping his hands together as he takes a seat at a nearby table. he couldnt believe that somebody could be so cheery all the time. he just doesn’t get it. maybe there’s a chance you’ll forget he’s even there.

he feels the looming. it’s impossible not to. the staring. all of it. “what.” he spits, whipping his head around to look at you. he feels a little bad when you’re standing there with a tray of drinks in to go cups. one he recognizes as nicks matcha. one is matt’s lavender latte. and one is nothing more than a black iced coffee. he found it hard to believe that you had actually listened to his requests. at the same time, he expected nothing more from you. “something else i can help you with?”

“i just um… yeah and basically” you stutter, setting the drinks on the table for matt and chris to grab on their way out. matt takes the cue and leaves with two of the drinks, only leaving behind chris’ and chris himself. chris scoffs when you can’t form a coherent sentence, standing up and grabbing his drink before speaking.

“spit it out kid” your eyes widen at the suddenness of it all, the tray falling to your side as you bite your inner cheek.

“well i wanna be your friend and i-“ chris cuts you off before anything, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a sip of whatever drink you made him. it’s bitter. it’s good.

“not happening” he states, a pout on his face present as a means to mock you. you’re more persistent than chris expected.

“but-“

“nope.” he states once more, placing a few dollars on the table before walking out the door. somehow, it only leaves you wanting his friendship more. it’s a challenge. you’re willing to accept it. you’re willing to wait.

you drag your feet back to behind the cafe bar slowly, beginning to make other drinks as you watch chris climb into the car that’s waiting for him out front. a gentle elbow to the ribcage from your coworker makes you smile, writing a small message on the cup in your hands.

“he seems so sweet... and hes cute too. i have a feeling you’re not gonna give up on being his friend are you?” she whispers, gesturing her head to the door. to nobody’s surprise, you shake your head as you pour out some spare milk, licking your lips before speaking.

“nope.”

a/n: WAAAAA im so excited for this au u guys dont GET ITTTT

tags(reply or message to be added): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @bluessturniolo @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @cykss @13hoax @riasturns @oopsiedaisydeer @darksturnz @chrisbratt333 @throatgoat4u @whore4mattsturniolo @camzeecorner @cvnntagious @muwapsturniolo @strnilolover @55sturn @sosasturns @mattscoquette @chrattho1 @bluestriips @submattenthusiast @chrismalfoy @luckyscharms @applecidersturniolo

#⋆˙⟡snoopychris #⋆˙⟡snoopy!chris #⋆˙⟡chris!#chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo au #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo angst

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