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miryum · 2 years ago

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Foundling Villa- Chapter 5

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

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

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

ao3 link next chapter>>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would talk to you about it later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, yeah,” Charles conceded.

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

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

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

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

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

“They should know it’s fruitless.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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leclercskiesahead · 1 year ago

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Carlos with a fan in Mexico

#carlos sainz jr #f1 #mexico 2023 #imagine going for dinner and running into a prince

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cutehoons02 · 1 month ago

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SPEED OR LOVE?

HYUNG LINE X F1 DRIVERS SERIES

*title: I’m in love an idiot

*trope: Grumpy for Sunshines

*F1 driver: Jay F1 Mercedes driver (inspo charachter: Carlos Sainz)

*synopsis: Being the daughter of the most famous engineer in the world for having won world champions like Hamilton or Vettel has advantages but a disadvantage is to hear about 24h on 24h from Jay Park. The new Mercedes star, with her gentle ways of communicating with fans and flirting with any girl in the paddock and with her look as a movie diva manages to make people do everything he says in a snap of fingers, except when he finds himself having to face the daughter of his engineer, super cynical and with a different idea than that is the real Jay during the European season of F1.

*title: Still hate me? Always..

*trope: Enemies to lovers/Social media manager

*F1 driver: Sunghoon F1 Red Bull driver (inspo charachter: Max Verstappen)

*synopsis: Sunghoon could not stand Y/n and Y/n could not stand Sunghoon. Y/n loved his work as a content creator for Red Bull because he could cheer on his favourite team and feel the adrenaline that was felt before qualifying or race and at the same time travel around the world and create fan content on various social platforms, but there was only one problem in his work and that was called Park Sunghoon "Ice prince" of the grid. Whenever Y/n tried to get some social challenge or interaction, Hoon hated it more and more because he didn’t need to have millions of followers or social interactions but just run and maybe taste for the first time the win of his first world champion in Red Bull.

*title: Kiss me, don't say no!

*trope: There's only one bed/reader is Jake's Pr

*F1 driver: Jake F1 Mclaren driver (inspo charachter: Lando Norris)

* synopsis: You thought being an F1 driver’s Pr was exhausting but you couldn’t imagine when you had to live three weekends in a row with Jake Sim, Jake represented everything that a Pr didn’t want to face in his career. Drama in his social media because Jake was born in GenZ and used social media without thinking that he was one of the most famous pilots of the moment, flirting with models or even worse fans during race weekends, duels and scenes with his teammate because the Mclaren had the unhealthy idea of putting two young promises of twenty years to command the team. Y/n would have wanted to kill him but under that cheeky face of F1 driver, Jake suffered from many insecurities and who knows thanks to his Pr things between the two could improve race after race.

*title: Romantic lover

*trope: Celebrity falss in love with fan

*F1 driver: Heeseung F1 Ferrari driver (inspo charachter: Charles Leclerc)

*synopsis: Heeseung loved the adrenaline and anxiety before having to risk everything to qualify for pole position or to win potter but those butterflies in his stomach every time he entered his fiery colored car had never heard them until a shy girl university did not win a content to spend a whole season writing the thesis on the post-pandemic boom thanks to the DTS series and various media platforms that have helped make this sport increasingly focused on young people. Y/n had always loved Heeseung from his arrival in Ferrari but would never be expected to share with him beautiful moments like his first victory at home moments as his continuous panic attacks due to an accident.

If your are interested in this story leave me your @ so that when i publish the story you will be first to trade. ♡

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gguk-n · 7 months ago

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All of this is fiction. All rights are reserved

This is my masterlist, I do not allow any transfer, translation or reposting on any other platform. This is the only place I post fanfiction and if you see someone reposting with a name other than gguk-n please let me know! thank you.☺️ P.S. I use Y/N and the reader uses she/her in my stories.

Masterlist

Requests are open

500 followers celebration series

Formula 1

Requests

Soulmate AU

Lando Norris

SMAU

Please, Please, Please Stranger in the sun

Imagine

Hate you Last Straw

Fading Shadow

Laps of deceit

Max Verstappen

Imagine

The Exception Unravelling Max's Mystery In another life

SMAU

Medicine & Motors Short n Sweet Tracks & Beats

Logan Sargeant

Imagine

Mission- Cheer up Logan Unforseen Affection

Oscar Piastri

Imagine

The illusion of destiny

Tragic Circumstance Growth & Realisation

Grand Prix morning Accelerating Emotions Your brother's Oscar Piastri? Daddy dearest

SMAU

From Pitches to Podium Notes and Nitrous (Jeon Jungkook's labelmate!Reader)

Charles Leclerc

Imagine

The Sky Between Us Replaced

Transition

SMAU

Rewritten Headline

Arthur Leclerc

Imagine

Luxury in Love’s Blind Spot

Eternal Luxury

Lewis Hamilton

Imagine

Renewed Passion

Falling for You Again

SMAU

Racing Smiles

Carlos Sainz Jr

SMAU

Harmonies on the fast lane Destined for Carlos Jokes in the cloud

Imagine

Safe Haven Pivotal Choice Arranged for Love

Lance Stroll

SMAU

Lights, Camera, Stroll

Fernando Alonso

Imagine

Fernando's protege Wheels of Desire

Yuki Tsunodo

SMAU

Fri(end)s

Zhou Guanyu

SMAU

High Speed Hearts

Daniel Riccardo

Imagine

Alternate Universe Balancing Act (Jung Hoseok's Manager!Reader)

Franco Colapinto

SMAU

Turned Page (Park Jimin's ex!Reader)

BTS

Kim Seokjin

Hybrid!Seokjin x reader Overtaking Hearts (Lando Norris's Race Engineer!Reader)

Jeon Jungkook

Royal Heart (Crown Prince!Jungkook x Maid!Reader) Yes or No

Kim Namjoon

Cinematic sparks (Lewis Hamilton’s sister!Reader)

Min Yoongi

Heart on the grid (Sebastian Vettel's God-daughter!Reader)

Kim Taehyung

Canvas of Memories (Charles Leclerc's ex!Reader)

#gguk-n

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formulaforza · 2 years ago

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oh, simple thing— c.sainz

"the earth laughs in flowers" pairing: carlos sainz x female reader wc: 4.1k notes: guys remember when i used to write? back in january? crazy times. anyways.

You were five years old the first time you proclaimed that you were going to marry Carlos. It came, of course, after the implication that you would also be marrying Prince Charming (as long as he didn’t keep your glass slipper–shoes are a woman’s best friend, your mom had told you once and you never forgot it) and the gym teacher at your primary school, whose crush you’d never admit to anyone but your mom. Can you imagine the teasing? Thinking a grown-up is cute? It’s completely preposterous… or, when you were five, super-duper silly.

All three of the loves of your life were completely coincidental, coming to your brain while your mom read you a bedtime story completely coincidentally. You’d had gym class that day, of course. Played with the rolling scooters and argued with the older kids about getting a turn on the tube slide. Scooter day was always your favorite, so it was no surprise your teacher was in your good graces that evening. A

After dinner, while flipping lazily through channels on the big square television in the family room, your dad had clicked on the Disney Channel by mistake. Cinderella was halfway through and you threw a fit every time he tried to change the channel. You just thought she looked so pretty, in her big princess dress dancing at the ball.

Carlos, what had Carlos done to be in your good graces that day…? He wasn’t in your class, so you couldn’t enlist him in the war of the slides or crash into him on the scooters. He definitely wasn’t running around your house after dinner. If he was, your Mom would still be cleaning up after him somewhere in the house. Carlos, Carlos, Carlos… what had he–oh! That’s right! The flower on the way home from school. How could you ever forget the first flower? He’ll give you shit for it later.

Your mom and Carlos’ mom had been best friends long before you and Carlos burst into the scene. They liked each other more than just about anyone, and you never did understand how Reyes never tired of your Mother’s antics. She was always bossing you around, forcing you to clean up your toys and read your books. Carlos got away with whatever he wanted, his parents would even lie for him on his reading logs. Anyways, stay focused. Because your parents were such good friends, you and Carlos grew up side by side. Parallel play or bust, since neither of you were particularly apt at sharing. Everyday on the walk home from school, your moms would catch up on the gossip from the night before while you and Carlos tried to kill each other with various objects found on the sidewalk. This day, there had been eleven pebbles, two rocks, a stick, and Carlos’ metal water bottle (the one with the HotWheels logo on the side). Now, Carlos was charging at you with… a flower? A bluebell, one he’d picked straight from the ground, root and all hanging from his fist. When he held it out to you, you scowled. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. In fact, it was about as perfect as a bluebell from the sidewalk can get, but, you’re a little shit.

“It’s dead,” you said, took it from him and tossed it aside. “It’s not nice to pick flowers, Carlito. It kills them.” He burst into tears and your mother scolded you the rest of the way home, even though it was her who always told you to leave the wildflowers wild. After some time and consideration (a plate of dinosaur nuggets, half of Cinderella, and a bedtime story) you’d decided maybe Carlos was right to cry about the dead flower.

Carlos, it seemed, had gotten over the dead flower incident pretty quickly because, the very next day, he was already making a joke of it. He’d held up the walk home for fifteen minutes while he searched through a field in the park. Both of your mothers and Blanca had already shown him what had to be a hundred or so healthy, perky flowers. Carlos shook his head at each one of them, typical. You sat on the curb of the garden and played with the ants that had built a sandy hill beside your foot. You resisted the urge to stomp it, only because you knew you’d be lectured about leaving the bugs alone in the same way you were about leaving the flowers alone. After a lifetime–or enough time to have an after school snack–Carlos finally settled on the ugliest, most wilted flower you’d ever laid your eyes on. He presented it to you with a laugh and, because you’re just as stubborn as he is, you accepted the gift graciously and let it sit vaseless on your dresser for three days before someone threw it away.

Truthfully, though, the real reason you probably proclaimed your intent to marry him that night wasn’t some flower. It was that Blanca had defended you from his water bottle strike with a pebble to the back of his head, and you thought that would be a good kind of person to have as a sister.

Carlos was seventeen when he figured he’d probably end up with you eventually for the first time. There wasn’t anything romantic about it. It was more of an ah, fuck. It’s gonna be her, isn’t it?

Your families were in Mallorca, touring some vineyard–well, your parents were touring the vineyard. You, Carlos, and all of the siblings had snuck off from the group one by one and met up in the grove just outside the property. Carlos was bumming a cigarette from Blana when Ana finally turned up, stomping her way through the grass and wildflowers annoyedly. Carlos takes a puff of the cigarette and passes it over to you.

“You’re going to start a wildfire, you know?” Ana says, crosses her arms over her chest and pops out a hip all bratty.

“Ana,” Carlos groans, “shut the fuck up.” You exhale a puff of smoke through a laugh.

“If you’re going to be mean, I’m going back to Mom and Dad.”

“Okay,” he says, “have fun.”

“I will,” she proclaims, visibly annoyed that she isn’t drawing a reaction from her big brother. She loves to piss him off, everyone does, because it’s just so easy. “I’ll have sooo much fun telling them about how you’re all in the woods smoking. I’m sure Dad will love that, don’t you think, Carlos?” Blanca rolls her eyes. Sometimes it’s fun to mess with Ana, and sometimes keeping her humble becomes more of a chore than anything else.

Ana stomps away, her whole sneaky journey wasted, the group’s entire smoke session ruined by the pesky baby sister who can’t decide if she wants more to be included or to be a tattletale. “Don’t kill any more flowers on the way back!” Carlos calls after her, passes the cigarette to you again for one last puff before the lot of you have to make your way back to the winery, to the bathroom you’d all claimed to need to use over the past hour. Ana turns on her heels to make sure Carlos can see her eye roll. He just smiles, and you think if Carlos was your brother you probably would have killed him with your bare hands a long time ago.

You squat down to put the cigarette out in the dirt and Carlos digs a hole with his heel for you to drop it into, kicks the dirt back over it and stomps on it a couple times. “Fuckin’ snitch,” he mutters under his breath.

He snatches up one of the stomped on flowers, pulls it from the ground–root and all–and presents it to you. “You really are such an ass,” you say, take the flower and link your arm through his for the remainder of the walk back. “I love you,” you add, “but you’re an ass.”

You were twenty the first time your friendship with Carlos became a threat to one of your relationships. It wouldn’t be the last time. You’d been together for seven months, you and Mateo, Mateo and you. Met at a club in Barcelona and the rest was history. It was a simple conflict of interest, a scheduling woe. You were forced to make a decision. Your boyfriend’s grandma’s birthday party… or Carlos’ debut in Australia. To you, it seemed like the easiest decision in the world. His grandmother isn’t even that old–she’s got plenty of birthdays ahead of her, ones that you’d be happy to celebrate. But Carlos’ debut? Really? That’s once in a lifetime. It’s the shit you just don’t miss, even if you’re in the hospital or literally on your deathbed (which Mateo’s grandma is NOT, by the way. She lived seven more years according to recent Facebook posts).

“You’re going to Australia?” He’d scoffed when you told him, mentioned it so nonchalantly over dinner. When I’m in Australia, don’t forget to water the plants, or something along those trivial lines. He was just as offended as you were utterly confused. There’s no way he thought– “What about my abuela’s birthday?”

You’d laughed. The wrong thing to do, you know, but it was an action done without thought, without intention. “What about it?”

“You’re supposed to come with me.”

“I never said that,” you shake your head and he pulls a face. You set your silverware down and prepare for the coming argument. Normally, you’d just back down, but this is Carlos we’re talking about. Carlos, and his dream. Carlos, and his reality. “I didn’t,” you reaffirm.

He leans forward onto the table, elbows shaking the entire thing, rattling the wine glasses and ceramic against the wood. “I assumed you–”

“–I don’t know why you would assume I‘d be doing anything except supporting Carlos,” you say, more defensive than you intend to be. It’s just, you can already see where this is going, even if it’s never gone there before. You’ve watched the girls Carlos brings home look at him the same way Mateo is looking at you right now, or more importantly, how he doesn’t look at you.

“You know, I don’t either.” He nods, but it’s more of a full body movement, like he’s rocking forward, lips pursed and jaw tight. His eyebrows raise like he’s going to shrug, like he’s surprised with himself. You doubt you read the emotion right. “It’s always about Carlos, isn’t it?”

You lean back in your seat, cross your arms over your chest, close your eyes just long enough to hide the eye roll, and then you’re piling the silverware and the napkin onto the plate and moving the party to the kitchen sink. “I’m not doing this right now,” you say when you grab the wine glass carelessly.

“Oh, so you know what this is about, then?” He calls after you, gathers his things sloppily and follows you into the kitchen.

“You just said it’s about Carlos,” you say, slamming the sink on and clattering the plates into the bowl. Carlos had told you about these fights, about the ones he’s had with his girlfriends. You’d laughed about them, always thought it was so funny–the idea of someone left fuming by your friendship. The crazy assumptions, they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried. You and Carlos are nothing but platonic, you’ve always been platonic, you’ll always be platonic. When you know someone as long as you’ve known Carlos, they just become a part of you, build this little home in your soul that blends in so perfectly you could never cut it out with clean margins. It’s not just Carlos, either. It’s Blanca and Ana, too. Hell, it’s even Carlos Sr. and Reyes, but nobody ever seems to understand that.

“It’s my Abuela,” he says, like you’re supposed to be moved or something, and he sets his dishes in the sink on top of yours. “It’s her birthday, and you’re supposed to come with me. I told my family you were coming.”

“I don’t understand why you would do that,” you start scrubbing the first plate with far more aggression than required. You’re not a good fighter, you get mean, and you get mean quick. “I was never not going to Australia.”

He laughs, leans against the counter with his arms crossed, staring at the ground, at the crumbs waiting to be swept up. “Because you’re never going to choose me over Carlos, right?”

“Mateo.”

“Answer the question.”

You freeze, squeeze the soapy sponge in a fist until there’s nothing left to ring out of it. “I’m certainly not going to choose your Abuela over my friend. Over my brother.”

“He’s not your brother.”

You sigh, go back to cleaning. “He’s like my brother.”

“Yeah, if you wanted to fuck your brother,” he says, and meets your eyes with wide, proud eyes like he’d done something, caught you in some illicit love affair. You resist the urge to grab the wand from the sink and spray him with a jet of water.

Instead, coldly, you’d replied, “get out,” and pointed to the door.

His hands shot up in some great defense. Or maybe it was offense, you really never could read him that well. “I see how you look at him.”

In. Out. In, and then out. Deep breaths. “I said leave, Mateo.”

“Because you know I’m right.” In, then out. “You know how fucked up it is that there’s three people in our relationship,” in, out. “Four, if you count Carlos’ girlfriend! What do you think she thinks about all this? You looking at her boyfriend like your favorite candy?” In, then. In, then–in, and then you slap him with a wet hand, the contact reverberating into a splash, coating the walls and the ceiling and the entire fucking room in anger. Anger, and dirty dish water.

The anger is deafening, the room so quiet that the sink makes the kitchen sound like it’s directly behind a waterfall.

He storms off into the living room. You return to the dishes, hear the jingle of his keys, the door opening. “Fuck you!” You call after him, but what you really mean is Fuck Carlos.

When you get the breakup text a few days later, you’re not surprised. You put on your best face and pretend you never read it because while your boyfriend did just break up with you in a seven word text, you’re sitting out the back of the Toro Rosso motorhome watching Carlos pace.

You’ll tell him later, you think, after the race. And then, you don’t dare ruin the celebration, ride the high out until it can’t be ridden any longer. By the time you do get around to telling him, you’re all but moved on, mentioning it nonchalantly amongst the chaos of his first season. It falls away to the backburner, into irrelevancy, and Carlos never does ask what happened to sour the relationship. He does, however, have a wilted arrangement of flowers delivered to your front door with a handwritten note–ugly and dead, just like your relationship. You’d laughed for maybe twenty straight minutes.

Carlos was twenty-four when he realized he was in love with you, that maybe he always had been. He’d just broken up with a girlfriend, one whose name he hardly remembers now. Alessandra… Alena… Adrianna–oh, screw it. It was definitely an “A,” and if it wasn’t, he’s sure it was a vowel. Not the point. He was twenty-four and had just dumped whatever her name was because it just didn’t feel right. (What does right feel like at twenty-four? And how do you know it when you see it? The world may never know).

It was three races into the 2019 season, and he’d been having a particularly unlucky start with his new team. He’d spent the offseason relatively alone in Woking, finding his footing in a new place, a new team, a new car. Everything is gray, you’d told him the night he announced his impending move, scrolling through your phone at Google search results for the town. “It’s not gray,” he said, and without needing to say anything or flash him a look, he backtracked. “Okay, it’s a little gray.”

Three races in–an engine fire and two first lap collisions–in, and everything is feeling pretty gray, not just his rainy apartment (flat, he’s been taught to call it) in Woking. The cards felt stacked against him, and reluctantly, he’d called in reinforcements to Baku, a couple of good luck charms in the form of the people he loved. You, Ana, and Blanca flew in together and made Carlos come pick you up from the airport himself.

You climbed into the backseat and were anything but gray. You were glowing, completely and utterly sunkissed, and your hair was messy from travel but it reminded him of what you’re like after a good nap. Groggy and sleepy and desperate to stretch out like a cat. He hates that he knows how you like to stretch after a nap, the exact pattern of movements you do. Do you know how much time you have to spend with someone to memorize their post-nap stretch routine? Too much time, that’s how much.

You got into his car, all bright and sunny, and sure, his sisters were there and he loves them so much. But, you’re here, and you’re bright and sunny and everything feels just a little less gray. He pulls out from the airport and while he doesn’t realize that he loves you just yet, he knows something in him has been chemically altered by your smile, irrevocably so.

It’s Sunday when he realizes, somewhere between the checkered flag and the team debrief when you and the girls appear, practically crash into him like you’d been dropped down into the garage right from the sky. He hugs you, and you smell like sunshine. He wants to bash his head into the wall of his driver's room, to lay in front of Lando’s car and ask him to run him over because he’s not supposed to take note of the way you smell (unless it’s to call you out for smelling like shit).

You kiss his cheek and shove his shoulder because you’re so happy for him, because you’re always so happy for him. He doesn’t think it’s fair for someone like him to always have someone this happy for him. He loves that about you. He loves everything about you. He loves you. Fuck, he’s in love with you.

Lando nearly pees his pants over a tweet the next day. Carlos has reached a new level of Carlos-ing, it read, with a picture of him visibility distracted while being fed to the media pen. He can’t tell his teammate that the reason he’s so distracted is because he’s internally debating the pros and cons of ruining your friendship forever.

You’re twenty-four when you and Carlos start dating. The two of you drag it out for as long as humanly possible, stretch the patience of everyone around you so thin they won’t be surprised (or concerned) at the idea of you and him getting together. It’s scary. Really, really scary to admit your feelings for each other, to tell the rest of the world about it, but Carlos keeps bringing you these mis-shapen flowers, ones where the dye is soaked up poorly or they’re a couple days too wilted. It’s our thing, he would always say, and kiss you while you cut the stems to fit in your favorite vase.

He was right, it was something that was just yours. There was nobody else actively searching out dying flowers in the shops or carefully picking the dirtiest wildflower from its root on an evening walk through the city. That was just the two of you, and nobody else understood it.

“It’s gross,” a friend told you, twiddling one of the half-dead flower stems between her fingers while you shared gossip over glasses of wine. “You got these today and they’re ready to be thrown in the bin.”

“You don’t get it,” you’d swatted her words away. The dead flowers weren’t understood, and they didn’t need to be. They were special to you and Carlos, and when it came down to it, nothing else mattered to you.

“Seriously, though,” she’d continued, “It’s… I don’t know. Dead flowers, it’s just weird.”

Carlos is twenty-six when you break up. It’s mutual, it is. Even when it doesn’t feel like it’s mutual, when either one of you desperately searches to blame the other for the pitfalls, it’s still mutual, still two people who love each other. Who just aren’t in love with each other anymore.

There’s a lot of reasons if you want to get into it, but his new drive is the catalyst for pretty much all of them. Carlos is with Ferrari now, which is the dream, but it's also the nightmare. McLaren is iconic and historic but Ferrari… well. Everyone knows the Vettel quote, everyone knows the kid’s car is red. Ferrari’s Ferrari and you’re just… you. Time runs out, patience runs thin, and that’s the end of it.

You’re twenty-seven when you see him for the first time post-breakup. It’s a setup by your parents. Mallorca and the vineyard, again. You don’t think anything of it, so much has happened in the last decade and Mallorca is half of Spain’s favorite vacation destination.

He’s sitting with his family at the bar, the whole clan of them sipping from a wine-tasting tray. His eyes shoot up to meet yours with the loud creak of the old, heavy doors. He does a double take, and your stomach turns into a ball of knotted necklaces.

During the same tour you’d been on all those years ago, you sneak off with the same excuse you’d used. Blanca and Ana don’t follow after you to debate the environmental damages of bumming a cigarette in the grove or to threaten to snitch on you to your parents. They stay behind and listen and you stomp through the wildflowers to get some air. You’re already outside, Carlos would say if he were there. You’re my dirty air, you’d tell him, and he would roll his eyes, shove his hands deep in his pockets and rock on his heels.

He knows you’re not in the bathroom, there isn’t a single nerve in your mind that thinks he doesn’t know exactly where you are. He doesn’t sneak off behind you. You gather your thoughts in the grove by yourself, leant against a tree older than you’ll dream of being. You pick a wildflower, one that looks picture perfect, snap it carefully from the root and stick the stem behind your ear.

When you return to your party, they don’t notice you’ve been gone for far too long to use the bathroom or that you’ve got a flower in your hair. Well, all of them except Carlos, who slows his walking pace to drop to the back of the group next to you. “Nice flower,” he comments quietly.

You nod, watch your feet as they move in synchronized steps with him on the grassy path. “Thanks.”

“It’s dead,” he adds, and you smile dimly. “It’s not nice to kill the flowers.”

Carlos is twenty-eight when he’s perusing the birthday card section at the local gift shop. He’s trying to find one that perfectly sums up his birthday wishes for you. It has to be sunny and happy and so, so sorry for everything (even when it’s nobody’s fault). It has to say, I’ll always love you without saying I am still terribly in love with you. It has to be subtle and obvious and endearing and serious and funny. It has to be everything his words can’t be.

He eventually settles on one, tucks it into the yellow envelope and licks it shut. He handwrites your name on it messily, like you could get confused about who it’s for and need a label, or like he has a stack of yellow envelopes for dozens of other people sitting sealed on his kitchen counter. He goes to the florist next, picks out a stock arrangement from the fridge and a package of flower seeds. The final stop on his city tour is your apartment. Three knocks on your door, and then you’re undoing the deadbolt.

“Hi,” you say, confused by his presence on your welcome mat.

“Happy Birthday,” he smiles. “This is the last time I get you dead flowers.”

You and Carlos are thirty at your wedding. He cries when you walk down the aisle and there isn’t a single real flower in your bouquet. It’s all fake, and one of your friends asks if you’re worried it might look tacky or cheap. Anyone who thinks that shouldn’t be at our wedding, you’d told them.

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sports-on-sundays · 10 months ago

Text

belle's makeshift masterlist

I write for football players and Formula 1 drivers!

★★★

Football players

Pedri González -

jigsaw / Part 1

jigsaw / Part 2

make up your mind

she's mine

I hate you (not)

help me sleep

surprises in Barcelona

friends with benefits

got your back

Marc Guiu -

stupid with love

run away / Part 1

run away / Part 2

not right for you

ready when you are

arguments / Part 1

arguments / Part 2

arguments / Part 3

perfect

Sergi Roberto -

someone like her

Fermín López -

found us out

visca el barça

Pablo Gavi -

take care of me

second priority

camera-shy

long distance

Héctor Fort -

love to hate you

mama's boy / Part 1

mama's boy / Part 2

it isn't right

Pau Cubarsí -

embarrassed and in love

love and fame

sweetie

bump, set, spike

sleep tight

racer girl

Antoine Griezmann -

football in the rain / Part 1

football in the rain / Part 2

Rodrigo Riquelme -

rainy days

★★★

Race car drivers

Lando Norris -

boulevard of broken dreams / Part 1

boulevard of broken dreams / Part 2

boulevard of broken dreams / Part 3

all my fault

all my heart / Part 2 of all my fault

serious

IMAGINE...

papaya girl

Charles Leclerc -

people change

and I can change / Part 2 of people change

hold you while you sleep / Part 3 of people change

taken

accident prone

while you're away

prince not so charming / Part 1

prince not so charming / Part 2

prince not so charming / Part 3

prince not so charming / Part 4

prince not so charming / Part 5

our tree

lucky strike

princess of monaco

Max Verstappen -

Carlos Sainz Jr. -

red wine

Oscar Piastri -

McLaren hat

Arthur Leclerc -

too late

Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri -

everyone can see he looks at you like you're the world, but you don't even know it

two for one / Part 1

one for two / Part 2 of two for one

this simple feeling / Part 3 of two for one

★★★

Series

Christmas with...

Arthur Leclerc

Oscar Piastri

Charles Leclerc

Lando Norris

★★★

ALL the football players I am currently willing to write for!

pablo gavi

pedri gonzález

fermín lópez

ferran torres

frenkie de jong

lamine yamal

héctor fort

pau cubarsí

samuel lino

alejandro balde

antoine griezmann

rodrigo riquelme

phil foden

julián álvarez

pablo barrios

marcos llorente

eric garcía

★★★

ALL the race car drivers I am currently willing to write for!

max verstappen

charles leclerc

carlos sainz jr.

george russell

lando norris

oscar piastri

kimi antontelli

franco colapinto

arthur leclerc

oliver bearman

★★★

If you have any more questions about what I write, my rules, and my blog, feel free to either comment them on this post, or hit up my ask box! Thanks so much for reading and checking out my blog!

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bellewintersroe · 1 year ago

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Hiiii I was listening to music with my dad the other day and the song caballero by Alejando Fernandez came up and all I could do was think about carlos being in love with the gf (reader) of another driver. The song is about respecting the other guy in a way but what if he didn’t and that’s when I thought of secreto de amor by Joan Sebastian it literally says “Delante de la gente no me mires. No suspires no me llames. Aunque me ames. Delante de la gente soy tu amigo. Hoy te digo, que castigo” and i love the idea of carlos trying to be a gentleman like with the first song and then snapping bc he knows reader loves him too and having an affair with her and it being their secret like the second song

You don’t have to write anything I just wanted to get the idea out of my head and I thought I’d share

No I LOVE this, this is so creative honestly thank you for the inbox I appreciate it sm!! I’ve tried to use some Google translate and I got a bit confused (I’m so sorry) but I’ve attempted to write something along the lines of your scenario because I absolutely love it and how angsty it is. I’m not aware of the songs so I apologise if it’s not exactly what you were imagining. Feel free to inbox me again if this is all completely wrong HAHA.

Carlos Sainz x AlonsoGirlfriend! Reader..

warnings: smut, mentions of affair (I’m sorry) hurting feelings, secrecy, jealousy… reader is Spanish but I won’t try butcher the translations.

Desde el día en que te miré Ibas bien acompañada Ibas con él de la mano De repente te reías De reojo me mirabas The champagne Carlos had consumed all night began to weigh heavy on his eyelids, wandering around the room as though he was in a subdued trance. His intoxication was, of course, due to the expensive alcohol he’d drunk excessive amounts of, but deep down Carlos knew there was something else weighing heavily on his sobriety. Her. The dark, olive skin exposed between the risky slit in her black dress, the valley between her breasts, the almost jet black hair that cascaded down her spine- she had him in a trance.

Carlos’ heart tightened, jaw falling a little slack at the sight of you once again. It was movie like. The beautiful girl, gently batting her eyelids at her prince-like boyfriend, and the depressed, drunk man watching from the corner. Alone. Her hands smoothed up over the other man’s creased shirt, flattening the material crisp over the bicep as his hand reached out to curl at the curve of her hip. His finger tips tightened into the flash of her behind. The corners of her red lips turned and she offered him a simple kiss, once on the cheek. Fernando caught her again, this time catching the plump of her lips. Carlos grimaced. That was enough. Carlos had enough of seeing the scene and turned back down to the alcohol in his glass. Simultaneously, she spared a singular glance in Carlos’ direction, one he assumed he was imagining, a deluded sight he could only dream of. No es mi gran amigo él Pero claro lo conozco Y no suelo ser aquel Que no le importa con quién Trato de ser respetuoso The man that Carlos so desperately wanted to trade places with? Fernando Alonso. His childhood idol, his fellow Spaniard on the grid and good friend, mentor- he was everything Carlos respected and more. Carlos knew better than to sought after a taken lady, especially one of his friends. Fernando was a lucky man, a lucky, lucky man… as soon as they were embracing, did she begin her journey towards Carlos. He felt the tips of his fingers unconsciously dig into his jeans and the swell of his heart speed. Carlos’ eyes fell down her body, her beautiful curves, the sleek of her dress clung to all the right places, hair bouncing with each stride she took. Ay, pero ven tantito Es la única vez que te voy a contar mi secreto Si no tuvieras compromiso, te perdería el respeto

With a sparing glimpse back to an occupied Fernando, busy talking to another young, beautiful woman, Carlos fell to the temptation of the beautiful woman, who was now inching closer to him. She was unearthly, a goddess, and when she offered him a smirk, he had to double take that it was actually aimed towards him. He would risk it all, he knew he would, the brush of her arm against his caused a deep breath to catch in his throat. She offered him a sympathetic smile at the strange noise it created.

“I’m sorry… I’m Carlos.” He cleared his throat, the sound of his voice almost startling him. Her dark eyes fell to the outstretched hand in front of her. In that moment Carlos didn’t know if she wanted to laugh in his face or punch him. He was puzzled by her confused expression.

Slowly, she raised her left hand, the cold metal of a ring touching his own almost making him feel physically sick. “I’m sorry. Im not used to shaking with my left.” She laughed, a soft, gentle kind, one that had Carlos already grinning to himself. She then offered her name, soft hand still embraced within his own. Carlos swore he’d never felt skin as soft as hers. She offered her name, a beautiful one, one in which Carlos repeated.

When their hands retrieved, he noticed the diamond cladded on her ring finger. His teeth ground against one another as they shared a glance at the ring, then back to Fernando.

“I’m Fernando’s-” the woman’s face winced as her eyes gazed over what Carlos now recognised to be her fiancé, with the hand on the waist of another woman. He recognised the the heaviness in her voice, the sigh which escaped her lips sounding almost painful. “-I’m getting another drink. Would you like to join?” Y si no fuera un caballero, te lo juro Te arrancaba de sus brazos sin pensarlo ni un segundo Eres la mujer que más me gusta en el mundo Pero tengo un respeto por ese suertudo

The minutes spent together turned into hours. Hours of uninterrupted conversation and laughter. Carlos felt as though she had captured his heart in a way no woman had before, she was sensual, even in the way she talked, Carlos thought he was imagining things when her gaze fell up and down his front on numerous occasions. She was swift, but flirtatious. Her eyelids were becoming heavier as the night and alcohol effected her. When a hand rested on Carlos’ forearm he had an overwhelming desire to pull her in his arms and spend the whole night with her. Although he recognised his feelings to be beyond lust (which was frightening for Carlos to happen so quickly) he still felt the twitch of his manhood whenever she would hold eye contact, or touch him. Occasionally she would bend forwards, exposing the further curve of her breasts. Carlos pretended not to realise. Y si no fuera un caballero Te robaba, y no un beso, sino toda la semana Para hacerte el amor hasta que te cansaras Pero soy un caballero y mejor Mejor no te digo nada When the night was nearing its end he felt almost desperate to express his feelings, he was almost certain she felt the same. It was bad, he knew it was. He still felt like there was too much respect for Fernando to pull any kind of move on the beautiful lady. God, he was so lucky. So, so lucky.

But it seemed her luckiness had run out, something that broke Carlos’ heart to see her eyes wide and scanning the room for her missing fiancé. “Where has he gone?” Carlos cleared his throat, the first mention of Alonso all night. “Um..” she glanced down to her phone, no notifications, nothing. She recognised the same sickness she felt every time something like this happened with Alonso.

“I think… he’s gone home.” Carlos watched her gulp, sliding her phone back into her clutch, the slight tremble of her fingers causing his brows to furrow. It was as though on instinct that he reached out, steadying her tremor. “I should go.” Her voice barely reached above a whisper, focusing on the gentle hand Carlos had placed on hers. She intended the words to come across more inviting than what they did, fear grasped her too much to speak up. It was now or never.

“I will walk you…” finally, a smile grew on her face. One that Carlos reciprocated as they shared a moment of silence, eyes meeting, speaking a thousand different things that words could not.

Delante de la gente no me mires. No suspires no me llames. Aunque me ames. Delante de la gente soy tu amigo. Hoy te digo, que castigo…

“I need you.” Her soft pants had Carlos writhing up against her body, hips bucking harder into hers. “I needed you all night… Carlos.” All he could do was moan in response, teeth grind in together in pleasure as he pressed his lips onto her cheek bone.

Every breath, every sound, every movement had Carlos feeling like he was driven crazy. And when he watched her slide the ring off her finger, dropping it to the floor below he felt all respect for the other man go out of the window. The sex felt too good, it was lustful, dirty, anything and more that Carlos could have dreamt of. He felt selfish, but at the same time he didn’t care. He wanted her, he needed her, and now he had her.

Her body below his moved in time with his, the bounce of her breasts sending Carlos into a pleasure filled trance. “I needed you.” He managed to tell her back. She was tight around him, wet, it was pure bliss. Carlos could feel his orgasm creeping up on him quicker than anything. He wanted to finish inside her, make her his, claim her as his own and vice versa.

His release was beyond earthly. He almost couldn’t compute the level of pleasure as he collapsed on top body, still squeezing, caressing, stroking her skin and hair. His hips still milked his orgasm as he unloaded his seed deep inside her, arm wrapping under the warmth of her body and holding closer and tighter than before, sealing a promise that he would never let her go, and keep her as his own…

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr smut #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz imagine #F1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader smut

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inchidentally · 1 year ago

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@vastappenen LISTEN okay so this is the full spin-off of the Charlos part of my Prince Lando AU post

I cannot write real fic so this is just like me doing a retelling of what's gone on in my mind lol - and this is the post of Charles in White that's screencapped above

(side note my friend was listening to this haunting music while I wrote this so it might help set the scene - it's called "Fancy on a Bach Air" by Yo-Yo Ma)

this gets a bit NSFW toward the end so fair warning!

ok so to start, this is what was in my original post

Unfortunately the royal courts of Europe were shaken by a quick series of upsets: His Serene Highness Lorenzo of Monaco abdicated the throne in search of a quieter life - his heart had never been in it since his father, the former Sovereign Prince, had become ill and abdicated. This left Lorenzo’s unwed brother Charles to be hastily crowned Prince Regent at the tender age of 22 (too young to be crowned Sovereign Prince bc modern monarchy rules I’m inventing). As a result Charles suffered the loss of his long-time suitor, nobleman Sebastian Vettel, who couldn’t bear the thought of being Sovereign Prince let alone of a land that wasn’t even his own.

Enter the Sainz Vázquez de Castro elders seizing the opportunity and negotiating a deal with Monaco in private conclave with the Papal State (??) to wed their son Carlos to the Prince Regent. Carlos is ashamed at giving in to the temptation… to not just be Prince Consort but to be Sovereign Prince, to rule over the vast wealth of Monaco and by extension the Holy See, to have the coveted beauty Charles in his bed. So he agrees to be spirited away to Monaco and the ugly business of dissolving his betrothal to Lando is left to members of church and state.

But Carlos experiences a complete conversion when Charles is on his knees in the cathedral - looking up at him with docile green eyes as Carlos’ fingertips touch the warm red roses of Charles’ lips as he holds the chalice of holy wine for Charles to drink. Carlos was almost hard beneath the ermine and velvet robes in a house of God when the crown was on his head and Charles next to him - and slightly below - smiling up at him with filaments of gold hanging from pendants on his chaplet, framing his achingly beautiful face. If Carlos feels his immense happiness and prosperity darken whenever he sees Lando’s picture or encounters him at one of the courts then no one need know.

ok so I've removed this from the narrative to of course be charlos true happiness endgame and removed Seb entirely, or he can just be called a close confidante and possible candidate to marry Charles but not very serious.

I imagine young Carlos Jr. moving through the royal courts as a child and teen and seeing the royal children of Monaco sometimes. in my weird version of royalty I have it that Lorenzo is the natural successor to the throne and therefore has always been allowed to dress and be seen "normally". as a second child, Charles was always the rightful property of whichever alliance would maintain Monaco's independence. he was raised mostly in the Prince's Palace and when playing or venturing to where he could be seen he's attended by a retinue of guards each carrying a gonfalon to conceal the young prince from view. on the rare occasions that the prince will be around those not within his immediate family or private staff, he is carefully wrapped in embroidered, jeweled white silks or cottons (depending on the climate) with only his eyes visible. the only color allowed being a scarlet silk girdle around his hips. until he reaches maturity or is married he wears a ferronnière with a single white diamond at his forehead. (I imagine the wrapping as looking like fancy white fireproofs that cover the hands as well and a long, flowy tunic over the top with smart little white renaissance boots (that Charles hates).

Prince Charles is also not permitted to speak outside of his family circle/staff but he is taught multiple languages and fond rumors spread that the prince has a charming lilting accent that comes from a little of everywhere. he is also taught the piano and there is a place on the shore that only locals know of where fairy echoes of his playing can be heard. they call it his 'lone voice' because the mood inside the palace can be judged by the prince's choice of music. childish and jolly for a while, then more challenging pieces, until his eighteenth birthday and an unknown dirge for his godfather who had perished during a racing tourney that summer. the prince's music would change over the years but it would never be joyful again.

I imagine many instances over the years of Carlos Jr. being coaxed by a conniving Carlos Sr. into bowing low to the small, mummified-looking creature that everyone assures him is a prince. the eyes and vague suggestion of white-clad hands and feet are the only indications that this is true, but the big green eyes are very expressive and seem to smile whenever they meet Carlos' own big brown eyes. Prince Lorenzo has a kind smile and would be a good playmate but solemnly maintains his position by his parents' side. Prince Arthur comes along in a bundle of energy and mischief - being blessed with a birthright to total freedom so long as his elder siblings are alive. he enjoys being swung around and thrown in the air by Carlos Jr. which helps pass the tedium of royal engagements. Arthur is clearly the favorite of Charles who rather mothers him - especially when the Sovereign Prince falls ill and hushed preparations are made behind palace walls for Lorenzo to take the throne. Charles is so deep in mourning for his godfather and soon his own father that his presentation at court is delayed indefinitely as it would be cruel to open him up to marriage bids that would inevitably take him from his home.

in the meantime, Carlos Jr. has grown into his large features and promises to inherit all his father's looks and daring. at his father's encouragement - "by the time you wed a virgin, you will need to know everything there is to know about pleasing them" - Carlos enjoys countless conquests across every continent on the globe. he's a seasoned bachelor by the age of 20 and has been given his own estate outside of Madrid to party, race expensive cars and drink expensive wine. but even as he wakes between the thighs of this or that beautiful boy or girl, his mind recalls the hours spent at court in Monaco trying to discern the subtlest lines of Prince Charles' body beneath the absurd layers of drapery. he knows for sure that the prince is slim but not scrawny. that his posture is upright and proud and stands about the same height as Carlos. at times when he scoops Arthur up to hold on one hip, Carlos can discern the fine dip of a small waist - probably small enough for Carlos' big hands to meet around. what a gift-wrapped present for whoever got to marry him!

but by the time they next meet, news has traveled all over of the Sovereign Prince's health and plans for the reluctant Prince Lorenzo to be hastily crowned. during their first visit after this news, Carlos Jr. makes his usual low bow to Prince Charles but when he looks up he sees tears clouding the prince's green eyes. it twists Carlos' heart and he boldly takes the prince's hand and presses a hurried kiss to the silk and at the same time trying to speak with his eyes how sorry he is for the prince. the small noise Charles makes at Carlos' boldness is a precious secret Carlos holds like a tangible thing against the breast of his tailcoat as he hurries down the steps before any of the other royals can notice what he's done.

[this is when the above section from my AU comes in and Carlos is attempted to be married off to Prince Lando, Lorenzo abdicates, Charles can only be named Prince Regent bc of his status etc and a hasty arrangement is made for him to marry Carlos]

at their wedding I imagine Charles' veil/headdress to be much lighter and tied in a simple knot at the base of his head. the only time Charles is called to speak is to swear fealty to the crown, to his country, and to his husband (it's also the first time Charles' voice has been heard by almost everyone in the Cathedral including Carlos. it sounds like joyous music, dipping deep and rich one moment and high and sweet the next - with a little bubble of laughter at the end. Carlos wants to hear him talk forever.) when the priest finishes his blessing, Carlos put a hand beneath Charles' chin and guides him to stand. he moves closer to Charles than he has ever been permitted and circles his arms around his neck to untie the knot. the veil falls away and a collective gasp rises up from the cathedral through the clouds of incense. Carlos doesn't gasp so much as suck in a triumphant breath through his nostrils and lifts his chin in triumph. Charles is not just the chaste ideal of beauty that the court and citizens of Monaco had whispered about for years, he is the vision of temptation itself: a delicate brush-spatter of freckles beneath a flush on finely molded cheekbones, a straight French nose that was the final word on French noses, and perfectly smooth lips in the shape of a patriotic 'M' and the exact red of Monaco's flag. the prince's hair and brows have all the shades of a glossy hazelnut and a thick fan of lashes surrounded the green eyes - all that Carlos had known of him until now. but soon, he would know everything about Charles and in a way no one else ever had or would.

Carlos is supposed to buss a small, ceremonial barely-there kiss to Charles' lips to please the court but of course he can't help himself and, holding Charles' face in his big hands, presses a fiercely possessive (thankfully still close-mouthed) kiss that nearly makes Charles collapse. murmurs go around the cathedral of "well, those Spaniards, you know".

when they are crowned, my version of royalty has the priest setting the heavy gold crown on Carlos' head but Carlos in turn places the chaplet of gold leaves and gemstone pendants on Charles. Carlos is flying as high as mortal can when he can finally lead Charles out to the balcony and show him off to the waiting public. Carlos wonders if there's a man on earth who possesses more wealth than he does at that moment.

but there's one more thing he doesn't yet have! oh you bet the bedding ceremony is weird and fucked up and poor Charles is using the short time they have alone as they move through the halls (merely flanked by guards) to nervously and apologetically explain to Carlos what they will need to do. something about protocol for regents who found it difficult to "perform" under such circumstances etc. Carlos just puts a big warm hand to Charles' lips as they are rushed along, leaning into to whisper that he'd take Charles' virginity in front of his own grandmother if that's what was required and his desire still wouldn't be dampened.

the chamber is small and has one purpose. the clergy stand behind wrought iron mullioned screens but Charles can see their eyes clearly and has known many of them all his life. he'd probably faint dead away from nerves if Carlos didn't pull him close and kiss him so deep and dirty it should've turned Charles' white gown red with lust. Carlos tells him to look only into his eyes, that he'll take good care of him. there's a whole intense sexy element to Carlos unwrapping Charles the rest of the way, just like the birthday present he'd imagined when he was a teenager. he probably spends WAY too much time on foreplay considering the witnesses are only there to see one thing and then leave but Carlos knows that Charles deserves this. by the time they've reached the point where Carlos can reach a hand between them and literally 'come' up with the goods to hold up and be viewed, Charles' moans are reaching up to the rafters. there's a rustle and murmured blessings as the priests finally withdraw.

Carlos is like FINALLY and decides to give Charles every bit of the benefit of his vast experience and looks smug as hell when Charles' attendants have to physically carry Charles to his own bed bc Carlos fucked him senseless lmao

agfalsgfsla this was so weird and detailed and I do not know WHERE it came from but if an actual writer sees this and wants to write it properly PLEASE tag me or message me!!!

EDIT: these are great photo references for adult Charles and Carlos in this AU

source

#charlos #carlos sainz jr x charles leclerc #mine #I hope you enjoy @vastappen !!#f1 royalty au #prince of monaco

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estiebestieban · 5 months ago

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A Dance with Bulls

Charles can’t tear his eyes away from the display before him as Carlos’ hand runs across the flank of the bull one final time before he retrieves his sword from the flesh. It comes back red, stained with fresh blood as it glistens underneath the light of the sun.

A 8.6k Charlos fic on AO3. Prince! Charles x Matador! Carlos. Vaguely set in a regency setting. Rated E. With incredible art by @4rseneart HERE

READ AN EXCERPT HERE, AND THE REST ON AO3.

“It seems that you possess witchcraft, Your Highness.”

Charles spins around on his heels in the middle of the lavish garden in bloom just outside the Arión estate, facing the man speaking to him from the shadows of the setting sun. Had this been his own residence, a place where Charles was comfortable, he would have scolded the man away. But the house and its halls do not belong to him, and he is all too aware of the fact that he is a guest in an unfamiliar country “How so, Mister Sainz. You must delight me with an answer.”

The matador makes his way to Charles, invading his space until they are nearly chest to chest. An improper position to be found in, that much was certain. Yet, Charles does not step back to create more distance between the both of them. He stands his ground, meeting Carlos’ gaze head-on as he delights in the fact that even if they appear to be the same height, he is slightly taller than the Spaniard.

“Well, if you will forgive me for my bluntness — I see you in the ring, and you steal the breath right out of my lungs. What other force on earth could do such a thing, if not witchcraft?”

Carlos’ words are charming, and it is not hard for Charles to imagine the flock of women so surely eager to throw themselves at the man’s feet. Still, he is the second prince of Monaco, and he is destined by his birthright to stand above such a display of suave charm. “Perhaps you have simply forgotten the fine art of breathing, good sir. It must be difficult, to keep your footing as light and your body as flexible as I have seen from you today and still remember to take a breath every so often.”

It comes naturally, the teasing. He is eager to see a smirk return on Carlos’ features, even more so to see the spark of joy lighting up those rich brown eyes. Charles does not long to please anyone, for such is the desire of the masses below him, but he finds himself hoping to do just that in the presence of the matador.

As swiftly as he appeared in Charles’ space, Carlos stepped out of it just as quickly. The ghost of laughter lingered in his absence. Charles is no better than the bull, for he takes one firm step towards the other, before remembering himself and noticing the absence of a red cloth for him to follow.

“Your Highness, I am not a man prone to begging, you can tell, no?” Carlos gestures with his hand to nowhere in particular. Charles’ eyes follow the motion eagerly as if all the secrets of the universe would be revealed to him by the simple act. “But perhaps I am made so by your presence. Seize the use of your magic. A man cannot live long without his breath after all.”

Charles had never seen other men die, but he had overheard the stories of men coming back from battle haunted by the things they had seen. When whispering to one another to recall the exact sounds of dying men, none had accounted for a young prince to be hiding behind his father’s legs. He does not know what it is like, to choke on his own blood, but he finds himself growing far more familiar with the act of choking on his own words in Carlos’ presence.

“Nor can he live without a heart?” Charles retorts as he watches Carlos walk away from him into the direction beyond the world of the Arión estate. Carlos does not give him an answer, for he is not a subject that answers to the royal blood in Charles’ veins. He gets to offer his silence to the prince who would so eagerly leap after the man. All Charles gets is the vision of a light step and the confusion left behind with the parting of the man in question.

#pls i have a family to feed -#charlos #my writing #I'm soooo stupidly proud of this fic you have no idea

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maryleclerc · 1 year ago

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prince!carlos sainz of spain??

modern prince carlos sainz smau? anyone

*need some face claim so please semd me some 🥲 thank u!!

#carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smau #prince!carlos sainz imagines #prince!carlos sainz x reader #f1 driver x you

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too-many0-0fandoms · 5 months ago

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Part 2 baby :) 2024 driver line-up

F1 Drivers as horse breeds (Part 2)

Carlos Sainz Jr

Carlos is also an Andalusian (Like Fernando) just a bit younger and not yet at the top of his game :) I imagine him and Fernando being related somehow also :)

Sergio 'Checo' Perez

Checo was a bit difficult, buttt I finally ended up on a somewhat tired, calm and lazier lesson horse that doesn’t really like going around in circles with the younger kids. Maybe he only loves when the ‘real’ equestrians ride him because they know what they’re doing :) As a breed I chose a Galiceno pony, an endangered Mexican pony breed that are really good sportponies!

George Russel

For George, because of his bit more regal attitude (PR prince George), I chose a Cleveland Bay. This is also an endangered breed, English, that is used a lot by the English royal family. I imagine him as one of the main carriage horses, calm and collected and reliable.

Oscar Piastri

(Go Oscar! Maiden win baby!!) For Oscar I picked a Waler horse because this is a very general looking warmblood breed, but is actually a pretty unique breed from Australia! I imagine him as a pretty skilled showjumper that is calm and looks pretty lazy but loves going fast and jumping high.

Zhou Guanyu

For Zhou I actually imagine him as a pretty good racehorse, not as great as Lewis or Seabiscuit but definitely decent. But mostly I imagine him getting really popular because he’s a pure white horse or like a very rare coat or an more average coat with a somatic mutation :)

Kevin Magnussen

When I was researching Danish horse breeds I came across the Jutlander draft horse and somehow it just fit perfectly. Just imagine a taller an a tad more lanky baroque type Nico and a smaller, chunky and round Kevin ;3 I imagine him being stalled at the same estate/stable as Nico and that they started out as ‘enemies’, constantly fighting but that they switched up pretty fast and now they’re bff’s!

Yuki Tsunoda

For Yuki I immediately knew what breed; a Shetland pony >:) I imagine him doing marathons with his owner. A really cheeky, stubborn pony that loves to work and food even more.

Alex Albon

For Alex I tried really hard to find a Taiwanese breed, but I just couldn’t find one. So I went with a Hackney Horse. A nice and flashy breed, I imagine Alex being a silly little goofball, a happy go lucky type that loves to show off but also loves playing in the field.

Lance Stroll

Lance was actually really hard to get a read on >.< But eventually I ended up on a Rocky Mountain Horse. This five-gated horse breed, that originates from Kentucky, is hard working, loves to go on trial rides and is a good show horse. I imagine Lance going on weeks long trail rides through the words with his owner, enjoying stretching his legs over the vast plains.

#lance stroll #kevin magnussen #carlos sainz #alex albon #yuki tsunoda #zhou guanyu #oscar piastri #george russell #checo perez #sergio checo perez #f1 #f1 au #formula 1 #formula one

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smooth-perceval · 1 year ago

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“Stealing hearts aside.”

Carlos Sainz x Fem!Reader.

PART TWO

[Part 1]

Summary: [Reader is attending a GP for a “date” but her “date” leaves her wandering around the pit lane alone. Until she bumps into a very cheeky driver].

The reader meets Carlos at the airport for a goodbye, Carlos tries convincing reader to come with him.

Warnings: swearing, hints of smut? Maybe…idk, but no smutty scenes, Google translate, no proof read, my bad writing.

Key: Y/N (your name) Y/L/N (your last name) Y/J/C (your job choice)

Word count: 3,444

A/N: Long awaited part two, let’s pretend Carlos won in Austria🥲 also- anyone seen the film ‘my best friends wedding’?? Well I watched that and I got an idea- but separate imagine anyways 🙂🖤 Hope you enjoy.

I love Carlos x Reader atm goodnight 🏎️🌶️

I woke early the next day, ensuring I got to the airport on time before he leaves…

Crazy right? Yesterday I hadn’t the slightest idea who this man is- and today I’m saying goodbye to him at the airport?

It’s all like a movie. He really is some kind of Prince Charming and I was the helpless princess who had been waiting for someone like him- and all that blah blah blah.

Shaking my head at myself, really trying to silence the silly comments in my mind. I got dressed quickly, opting for a hoodie for some form of disguise- I don’t know… do I bring some sunglasses? Huffing I threw my hands in the air storming into the bathroom to clean my teeth, put some light make up and brush my hair out, choosing to leaving it down in its natural form. I was a girl on a mission… eager to see him just as much as he is me- or so I hope.

I texted Carlos telling him how long I would be- roughly over an hour the nav is saying, and made my way to the airport.

My stomach was churning, I was nervous to see him again- yet I couldn’t wait… what do I do when I see him? Is a hug to much? Will it be to awkward if I waved from a distance? I should congratulate him first-

Groaning I turned the volume up silencing myself once again.

You’ll know when you get there Y/N.

When I arrived I parked up grabbing my phone and reading Carlos message.

“🚘los x”

Ring me when you get here x

Doing as he says I called his number sliding out my car and locking it in the process, after two rings he picked up.

“Your here?” Laughing down the phone at him I nod my head.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t have called…”

“Oh sí- okay where are you standing?”

Humming I look around. “I’m near the departure drop of- let me find the zone-” I walk closer to the airport looking around at the signs.

“I’m in zone b departure.” I turn looking through the glass of the airport.

“Wait there-”

“Where are you…?” I squint my eyes at the windows trying to see if I spot him.

“I’m in zone A, I didn’t want to check in yet otherwise I can’t come back to see you.”

Smiling to myself a small blush crept to my cheeks… he says things like that without realise the effect it gives-

I started walking in the direction that pointed to zone A, and on the other line I hear a slight huff from Carlos- who I can only presume is jogging now.

“I think I’m heading the right way-” and as if on cue I see him, with a few security trailing behind him also.

And even while jogging he made it looked so good- as if in a trance I removed the phone from my ear ending the call and ticking it securely in my pocket.

My feet quickened and I was in a speed walk towards him- within seconds both of us colliding.

His arms was tight and secure around me, my head was buried in his chest breathing in his sent- trying to etch the smell into my brain as it’ll be a while before I could be this close to him again-

“Congratulations on your win.” Mumbling against his chest I squeezed him tighter before pulling back- not fully, my hands still on his waist, and my head tilted up looking at him. “How long before your flight?”

“I gotta leave in a few minutes to get through security at that…” smiling sadly at each other I pulled him back into a tight embrace.

“Come with me.” I barely heard him above the ruckus around us- even so my heart pounded against his chest- like it wanted to collide with his.

“I can’t-”

“You can… please.” Leaning back I look up at him. “Carlos my job, I can’t just jump on the next flight without giving them notice.”

“So if you didn’t have a job…” quirking his eyebrow at me causing me to laugh a little. “That’s not what I mean…”

“I just mean- you met me yesterday, and now your asking me to come to Austria… it’s a bit crazy don’t you think.”

He just stared at me no response at all, like the craziness was finally settling in- like he realised how crazy it all is.

“I don’t think so.”

“What?! You don’t think it’s crazy- are you crazy?” Laughing a little bit more stepping back his fingers brushed against mine before interlocking them.

“My mamá, always said when you know you know.” (Mum) smiling sweetly at him, I placed one hand against his cheek leaning up and kissing his other cheek softly.

A smile broke out on his face, pushing the side of his head against my lips.

“I don’t want to go-” both laughing quietly we finally separated.

“Good luck- I’m only a call or text away-” rolling his eyes at me, he finally let our hands go. “You better be watching.”

“I definitely wouldn’t miss that for the world” finally satisfied with my answer he left me outside reeling in his touch, his smell, his sickly sweet words.

Why the hell is a guy I’ve known for less than 24hours got me twirling my hair and giggling like a school girl. He got my heart so full it was ready to burst- I love this horrible feeling.

Practically skipping back to my car, I sat there staring at the airport.

“When you know you know.”

Tapping away at my steering wheel I pull my phone back out my pocket checking flights…

Maybe if I gave work a few days notice- I could get there before the race on Sunday and just take the Monday off… no your crazy.

I switched my phone back off starting my car up, before my phone signalled.

“🚘los x”

Is it bad I miss you?

And there the butterflies came again.

Is it worse that I haven’t even left the car park…

“🚘los x”

I think you should catch a flight with me.

I think you are crazy 😂

“🚘los x”

About you mi amor? Yeah I think I am too 😉 (my love)

You can’t see it but I’m shaking my head at you,

have a safe flight chili ❤️

**seen**

My journey back home was quiet to say the least… I drove over an hour to spend about 5 minutes with a guy… who is now catching a flight to another country- and from there probably to another country I don’t entirely know- all because he simply asked.

Now I’m even considering taking a day off work for him- I must be going insane…

Shaking my head at myself, I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind… focusing on getting home in time to start work.

The day flew past you could say, Carlos sending a few messages throughout the day, whenever he got a chance to- and insisting he called this very evening. Which of course I didn’t mind- hello?

When I finally got home I quickly ate and then took a shower getting ready for bed, and secretly waiting eagerly by the phone for him to call.

But as time went on I didn’t hear the phone sound once, and when it did it was only emails or game notifications… no Carlos.

I sent him another message only asking if his okay- seeing as there hasn’t been any contact for hours… and truth be told I was worried for him? Was he okay?? Did he just forgot and got some well needed rest? Or was it something serious- I was panicking a little…

Another hour went past and there was still nothing- and in that hour I must have dozed off on the sofa, clearly exhausted from the airport ‘meet’ the tv had turned itself off, and the room was dark, little patters of rain hitting the window, breaking up the heatwave we have been having-

Jolting up from the sofa I grabbed my phone that was ringing out answering it without thought. The first thing I said was-

“Carlos?” My voice was slightly croaky from the sleep my eyes still adjusting around the dark room.

“Did I wake you?!” A little gasp come from his end of the line, only causing me to yawn and lay back onto the sofa.

“It’s okay… are you okay?” My eyes closed, listening to the little cracks in the line and faint buzzing sound.

“I’m sorry… we had a lot of PR stuff-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself- just are you okay?”

“I’m fine, im fine- I’ll let you get back to your sleep Mi querida.” (My darling.)

“Please stay on the phone…” barley above a whisper I rolled over getting more comfortable on the sofa grabbing the blanket that was kicked to the end pulling it up to my chin.

“Really?”

“You don’t have-”

“I want to!” He practically shouted down the line causing me to pull the phone away slightly, before laying it down next to me putting it on speaker.

“Let me just get into bed also-”

The sounds of rustling was heard before a loud sigh.

“You still there?”

“Mhm…” with my eyes closed, warmth of the blanket and Carlos voice sounding like a lullaby, I felt myself relax… nearly asleep.

“I don’t know what to do” humming in response cracking an eye open to make sure I’m not dreaming.

“With what?”

“With well- us?”

“What about us?” Curiosity peeked my ears as I leaned closer to the phone.

“I just don’t understand what you’ve done to me, I woke up thinking of you, I’m going to sleep thinking of you, the whole day today I kept thinking about what your doing- how you are, that’s why I tried texting so regularly… i just…”

The line went silent and my heart really melted, I was practically cradling the phone.

“You just?”

“I just want you with me 24/7- can you believe that? You have literally bewitched my heart and soul- I don’t know what to do, and even so it’s not a bad thing that I am like this- it’s just crazy what you have don-”

“Carlos-” cutting him off with a small laugh escaping my lips. He finally quietened down.

“I’d say we are both hopelessly devoted to one another...”

He hummed letting out a deep breath afterwards.

“I love the feeling…”

“Me too.”

“I miss the feeling of you though.” I could hear the smirk in his voice, causing me to roll my eyes and close them afterwards.

“Anyone would.” Mumbling my response, I caused Carlos to laugh, a very hearty laugh that made my body flutter.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No…” yawning and stretching my body once again.

“I’ll let you go…”

“No please stay…” it was a plead- a plead for sanctuary- a plead for some like him to talk to a girl like me.

“You want me to stay on the phone while you sleep?”

“Is that so weird…?”

“I think I need to marry you.” I let out a tired laugh. “And I thought I was crazy to chase you down in an airport.”

“That was quite crazy.”

“You asked me to-”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But-”

“Ah- ah. I didn’t force you to the airport. You showed up on your own doing. Why?”

“Because you ask-”

“You could’ve said no and stayed home. But you said no and turned up anyways- Why?”

“I don’t know…”

“Because you feel it too.”

“Feel what?”

“This yearning for one and another.”

Sighing into the phone, I closed my eyes listening to him talk- he really was my lullaby.

“You feel it, no?”

“Yes I feel it.” Softly spoken into the phone, the line fell silent. And that’s when I knew- work doesn’t matter truthfully. Having a feeling like this was better than any kind of money.

And I need that feeling- that thrill, the adrenaline, everything I had this morning I needed.

“Carlos?”

Humming in response as a sign to continue, I paused once again.

“I change my mind…”

“About what?” It was his turn to yawn now-

“I want to see you.”

“Well we can FaceTime- no? I might fall asleep though…” laughing a little I smile shaking my head.

“No no- in person.”

There the silence was again- and with each passing second my heart drummed quicker. Did he not want that anymore?

“Here?” Confusion evident in his voice.

“Yes there- you no where near here.” Laughing quietly, I pulled the phone closer.

“Well?”

“Mi querida.” (My darling) He sighed once again into the phone- more like a sigh of relief.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Smiling to myself- I chewed onto my bottom lip, there really is no feeling like it.

“Okay- I’ll try and get to you as soon as I can-”

“Okay, I’ll let you go- I’ll speak to you in the morning?” Humming happily I nod my head.

“Goodnight Carlos”

“Night mi querida.” (My darling)

The line fell dead- and with the spurt of happiness I quickly seeked out clothing to pack. The smile not once dropping from my face.

**9P.M. SATURDAY NIGHT**

@yourinstaname posted to her story.

Tired, and annoyed. I sat alone in the airport… another delay to my flight- Carlos was asleep seeing as the race is tomorrow, and I insisted I didn’t want to be some form of distraction. My work was absolutely wonderful, they allowed me to take a few days off next week- leaving me more time with Carlos- explaining to them it was really Carlos Sainz Jr. that I was talking about is a different story… but they was amazing!

And finally like a miracle from the heavens above- my flight was finally called, it was as if someone put rockets on my shoes- I ran for the line passport and ticket already out ready. I practically shoved the documents into the stewardess hands, rushing quickly down the tunnel.

Smiling to myself, one thought in my head was seeing Carlos.

The flight was calm, nothing seemed to crazy- I slept majority of the flight and was woken just in time for landing-

To say it was late here was an understatement, and I was beyond shattered. Everything seemed a blur- from the airport to the accommodation, Carlos had booked. It all seemed to just happen. And when I was finally in the hotel bed, I finally relaxed and let the sleep evolve me.

**7A.M. SUNDAY MORNING**

I barely slept- in fact I was was tossing and turning. There was a burning in me to find Carlos, yet I had no idea where he was- so I soon settled on falling asleep and getting to the track quicker.

A few days prior to the event I had my passes delivered through the door- with a text from Carlos telling me to ensure I had them.

And out of everything, I held on to it like my life depended on it. The journey to the track was nothing out of the ordinary- apart form the pounding of my heart and the blush on my face every time I thought of Carlos. Messages between us both had been light- but he had to go seeing as they needed his presence.

The adrenaline that flowed through me, when the circuit finally came into view. And the sounds were heard- it was unreal.

And I just knew he was in there- and that’s what excited me even more, like he said I yearned for him.

Once again it was all a blur- I was looking around frantically, any direction or sign of the man I wanted. But nothing- I followed a few people, in the red Ferrari shirts and hats, in a silent pray that they would be my guide.

And they was, grabbing my phone I dialled his number- hoping that he would have a spare few minutes- I didn’t want to just barge in. After a few rings he picked up in what seemed to be a rush.

“Hey- you here?”

“Yeah I’m outside your garage I think…”

And with that the call cut off- and in the space of seconds I finally caught view of him- his face unreadable. My hands glided over my outfit- straightening it out trying to feel more presentable, I felt the need to ensure I was perfect for him- and why? Cause he seemed very perfect for me.

His hair which was a little frazzled, clearly running his hands through it too many times. His face was slightly red, especially on his cheeks, maybe the smallest smile tugging at his lips. Just slightly.

With his hand outstretched, mine delicately slipped into his grasp, as he practically dragged me into the garage. And once behind hidden doors from prying eyes, and cameras- his hands found my cheeks.

“I’ve missed you.”

I couldn’t contain the smile on my face- it just broke out, happy to hear his voice, have his hands on me, just happy... My hands had now reached up holding onto his forearms, thumbs brushing slightly over his wrist in a quiet soothe.

“You did?” Whispering back, feeling giddy- like two blushing teenagers we both stared at each other in awe, as he frantically nodded his head.

“Missed you more than racing.” Smiling back he shuffled closer, causing me to back up, my back now pressed against the door we both once entered through.

“That’s crazy.” Who knew when our faces inched closer, and our breaths became heavier- or when Carlos hands moved from my face, to the sides of my neck pulling me in slowly.

“Think it’s about to get a little crazier…” he mumbled, before softly pressing his lips against mine- both our eyes fluttering closed.

The kiss was gentle, like he was scared of me running, it wasn’t until I slid my hands along his arms and around the back of his head did the kiss deepen. Like the ‘yearning’ we had finally flowed out into one kiss.

We just melted into one another… some may say we are crazy, who do you meet and in a week never want to part from? Someone who has a heart of gold and a smile as warm as the sun that’s who.

“Carlos-” like deers in headlights both our heads snapped to the voice.

“Sorry- I’m so stupid-” Geared up in a red racing suit very similar to Carlos stood another brunette- red faced and looking up at the ceiling.

Glancing back at Carlos, both catching each others eyes- We both to fell into each other in a fit of laughter. Carlos arms wrapping my up into a tight embrace.

“Charles- this is Y/N” releasing me from his embrace, I looked up at him smiling, his eyes already on me- twinkling like stars in the dark night. His hand rested in the curve of my waist gesturing me forward.

“Your Y/N?!” Charles eyebrows was raised in shock as he stepped forward holding his hands out. I nod my head at him smiling holding my hand out to shake his- only to be dragged into a hug.

“Carlos won’t shut up.”

“Aye-” Carlos huffed from behind his hands reaching out and resting on my shoulders as he pulled me back.

Falling back into Carlos, a wide smile on my face, his arms hung around my shoulders, head resting on top of mine.

“It’s lovely to meet you Charles-”

“Nice to finally put a face to the name, it’s always Y/N this- Y/N that.” Charles was quick to drag me from Carlos an arm slung over my shoulders forcing me to walk away.

“All good things I hope-”

“Well- all of what he knows of you in a week anyway.” Charles chuckles, taking the opportunity to show me around the garage, Carlos every so often putting in his input.

And finally, I was back with Carlos.

He was starting to get ready for the race, giving me a little lesson on everything his putting on- until he was standing there with just his gloves and helmet.

“Go crazy out there chili” smiling up at him I pull his velcro strap over his zip, patting it gently twice.

“For you? Any day-” with a quick kiss to the forehead he went out there and secured himself another win.

To him that was his guardian angel telling him that keeping Y/N is keeping his luckiest charm. And he wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers.

A/N: Okay- so I’m sorry for starters, it’s taken me a while to get out of writers block- I also didn’t know where I was going with this I just hope you enjoy it… Idk I don’t love it.

Masterlist

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #carlos sainz imagine #imagine #carlos sainz x y/n

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