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konaanaria13 · 3 months

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Another universe maybe things could have been like this...

But it all ends the same.

I love this song and uhm yeah

Basically a small love story bound to be ending...

Inspiration from my life and this song.

Warnings: wlw, major charchter death

I will meet you at the graveyard

"You know we should probably buy some pictures to hang up" She comments as I put some books up on the shelves.

"Yeah? What are you thinking?" I ask and turn my head to look at her, she smiles and looks at the white wall before her.

"A landscape maybe? Or some kind of portrait" she shrugs lifting the box of the ground and walking out of the room with it.

"No no portrait!" I shout after her and hear her laughter, it fills my ears letting it consume me, the hollow room fill's up with the sound of it and I smile at how perfect she sounds.

"Why not?" She shouts back and I shrug to myself.

"Their creepy imagine walking past it at night, I've watched enough horror movies to know its not safe" I respond finishing up and taking the empty box out of the room meeting her midway.

"Darling I think I'll have read enough books to know magic isn't real" she leans close to me tapping her index finger on my nose and then pointing it at me.

I grin and lean towards the touch, lean toward her, her hand cups my cheeck and I open my mouth to respond but she rolls her eyes and leans into me, pressing those smiling lip's on mine and I swallow kissing her back. My body tingles, my eyes shut, my grin spreads, my body moves forward the empty box slams into her body stopping me from wrapping myself around her. Pulling her into me, touching that hair.

"As long as you keep kissing me I'll hang how many portraits you want ok?" I ask and she nod's catching a breath before grabbing the box from me and letting it drop on the ground, letting me wrap my hand's around her hip's, letting her hand's into my hair, smiling as she run's her toungue over my lip's and I part them letting her in, she pushes herself on me, pushing me back, her steps in sync with me. Back-forward.

My back touches the wall and her fingers lace down my neck. Holding me in place.

I push my head up a little hugging her body and she smiles again into the kiss as i let my hand's lift her shirt, touching her warm, soft skin underneath.

"We have work to do" she whines and I smile nodding kissing her more.

"Yeah yeah" she breaks the kiss and I kiss her cheek, down her jawline, kiss her neck, sucking on spot that makes her gasp.

"Nope! Work!" She pushes herself out of my grasp and I groan.

"Afterwards we can do anything you want" she says as I hold onto her hand.

"Promise?" I ask letting her escape my hand.

"Promise." She says and I look into her eyes leaning back in and kissing her once more.

"Alright."

Where you lay down, where you stay down

"Come on we're gonna be late" she pull's on my hand making me hurry my step, almost trip and keep up with her as we race down the corridors to class.

"It's five minutes don't worry" I say and she rolls her eyes.

"I don't wanna miss stuff come on" she pull's me on, Breaking through the door we hurry to sit down quietly as the proffesor gives us an annoyed look.

"Fuck you" She mumbles and I smile, placing my hand on her thigh as she takes out her notebook and start's to listen, I write mine down on the second page while she uses the first, letting my hand run up and down her thigh, I glance up once in a while watching her push her golden hair back and adjusting her glaces as she listens carefully.

At the end her entire page is filled while mine is half full with scattered writing and the other with scattered drawings of either her or random flowers, doddles and ink stains.

"Your going to fail if you continiue like that" she mumbles as she packs up, I take her backpack putting it over my shoulder and shrugging while I lace my fingers through her's.

"I don't need this class i'm only here cause I didn't want you taking it alone. I'm gonna majore in all the other classes and you can have this one alright?" I muse wrapping my arm over her shoulder and pressing my lip's onto her cheek, her fingers clutch mine while she turns her face and meets my lip's with hers.

"Come on I'm hungry" she says and again we start hurrying to the cafe over the street of the university to get lunch.

Faced down, cold heart, no longer by my side

"I don't care! Just- I need a fucking mimute alright! Just leave me alone for one fucking minute!" I scream. Scream at her, watch her face crumble, watch her lip's part and a single breath escaping them, her eyes watwred as she slowly nod's, gasping slightly she nod's.

"I'm-" I huff leaving the room before she can speak.

Grabbing my phone and headphones I walk toward the door.

Putting my headphones on I lace my shoes at the door and leave.

Rushing out of the building I stand still as I look into the night.

Theres a couple of car's driving by the street and I breath through.

Swallowing I begin to walk.

I start to think.

Slowly I make my way down the narrow streats as I let the music consume me.

I don't know how long goes by when I come to a halt and sit down in a park.

I swallow down a sob and look to the playground watching a young boy sit beside a girl on the swings, I let my thoughts wander as her hand reaches out to his they're fingers playing with each other as I see them laugh, she tosses her head back and he watches her.

I watch them for a while. Thinking of the time when we we're 17. When she didn't know I was absoulutly in love with her, when I coudn't take my eyes of her while she set on that swing and when she talked I could barely listen my mind bringing me to all the things i wanted to tell her.

Wanted to tell her now again. So she didn't forget. So she knew i'd always be there. So she would know I didn't mean anything else.

So she knew I'd always love her.

Getting up I give the couple one last look and walk back.

Reaching our flat I enter silently. Takif off my shoes and putting my headphones away I let my phone in the kitchen walking toward the living room and checking if she's there.

I walk into the bedroom finding her in bed under the covers. Crying.

I swallow a sob my tears not stopping as I slowly slide down onto the floor, bringing up my knees to my chest I hit my head into them and let out a shaky breath muffeling my sob's.

I sit there trying to be quiet while hearing her cry until I slowly crawl over the the bed. Over the her side and into her arm's.

She doesnt respond and I hear her swallow while I hug her into me.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" I kiss her head her hair I take her into me and blift her head kissing her wet cheeks, eyes, temple, lip's over and ober again until I hear her breathing calm. Hear her breathing through. Watch her look at me and start crying again.

"I'm sorry" her voice sound's so broken I start crying to and I nod.

"I know it's ok everything is alright, stop crying please i can't. Ugh stop. Stop" I kiss her until she stop's again.

Her arm's wrap around me and I pull her in resting my head ontop of hers.

"Everything's gonna be okay. Everything will be alright." I hum and she nod's into me.

"I love you so much" I whisper and she sob's.

"I know" she whispers and I nod kissing her hair.

"I love you so so much, I didn't mean it please" I lift her head with my hand and kiss her.

"Forgive me?" I ask and she laugh's a raspy laugh nodding.

"You should be the one forgiving me" she says sobbing and I smile kissing her again.

"I forgave you the second you said it I just needed time. I need time sometimes." I say and she nod's.

"I'm sorry" she say's and I nod.

"I know" I kiss her.

Wish we we're toghether, now I don't know when I will see you

"I'm just saying you could have told me!" I lift my hand's in defence as she laugh's.

"And get screamed at you for spoiling your book no thanks" she flip's the pancake and turns to me resting her body against the kitchen frame she watches me squinting her blue eyes at me.

"I was just a little dissapointed alright?" I say and she laugh's again.

"your alwaus a little dissapointed" pushing herself of the counter she moves toward me and leans over the counter I'm sitting at to give me a kiss which I avoid.

"I'm angry at you" I declare and she paunts.

"Whaat? Whyyy?" She whines moving around the caunter quickly and taking my face into her hand's kissing my cheeks as I avoid her lip's on mine.

"You didn't tell me she dies!" I say laudly and she throws her head back laughing.

"Ugh alright what can I do to make it up to you my love?" She ask's and I roll my eyes.

"Wow are you trying to get my to forgive you by seducing me?" I ask and she shrugs.

"I don't know would that work?" She raises her eyebrow and I smile rolling my eyes again and kissing her lip's as she leans in with a knowing look. Slowly she kisses me, back opening her mouth as I let my tounger run over her lip's, they taste like cherry chapstick and sugar.

I wrap my arm's around her waist pulling her ontop of me, letting her leg's spread over my lap and straddle me, her hand's run through my hair and I let her pull my head back and smile as she bites my lip a little bit.

I breath her in before stopping.

"I think somethings burning." I murmum thinking of what could be burning as she kisses me again.

"Hm? Oh fuck the pancakes!" Hurrying off me she runs to the pan turning the stove off and I laugh as smoke fill's the kitches making her caugh.

"NOT FUNNY" she shauts as I laugh harder.

I, I will meet you at the graveyard

"Uhm" my palms feel sweaty, I swallow looking at the crowd before me, seated in rows as they wait for me to speak.

"Uh-" I caugh swallowing.

"I- I was asked if I could say a few words of... goodbye." I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

"I was asked to say a few word's about... the love of my life." I say slowly looking at her mother in the first row who was laudly weeping.

"To relive her... uhm" I swallow.

"I cannot describe her in word's and I cannot describe the pure love I felt for her. I'm sorry for everybody who didn't get to know her the way I did. The way I got to know her will forever be the best memories I will have." I say laudly

"A week ago we we're making dinner and as a joke she asked me what we would do if our children turned out ugly? I laughed and said that... that nothing she could ever make could ever be ugly and that everything she touches would be lovely and beautiful anyways to which she laughed and flipped me off. But it was true. I meant thatm and that was exactly how she was I think. A person that turned everything beautiful and lovable and I hope that in the next life I will find her. I don't hope I know I will find her again and I know she will make my life beautiful and lovable.

So I wanna say thank you for making my life Beautiful and Loveble"

I wait until the end of the ceremony to cry.

Sitting in front of the alter I cry so much that I can barely speak.

The graveyard is beautiful, the sun is shining and the amount of flowers at her grave are blooming brightly in the sun.

I stay until even her mother leaves.

Crying until the sun is down.

I draw small circles into the dirt, laying beside her.

My tears soak the earth and my sobs fill the earth.

-K<3

#original character #wlw #wlw sfw #lovers #love #life #death #charchter death #sad #real life #women #lesbian #bisexual #Spotify #angst #angst with not happy ending

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konaanaria13 · 8 months

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Reblog if you write fan fiction

Doesn’t matter if you write in a frequent basis, or once in a blue moon, just how many of us are there?

163K notes · View notes

konaanaria13 · 8 months

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This is so sweet<3

playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

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konaanaria13 · 9 months

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Jealous Blood

Hi! So another Barty Crouch Jr. One even though I was originally thinking it to be of Theodore Nott but I couldn't really deside....

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Fucking, fingering, a lot of cursing. Just a shit ton of smut guys.

MDNI

If I'm honest the only thing I thought I would never be tasting in my life would be My boyfriends Blood.

But well he is Barty Crouch Jr. so never be expecting anything normal.

"Shut the fuck up!" I hear the punch before I see it, he was pinned against the wall, a huge grin on his face as Fabian Prewett landed another punch on him.

"Immobilus!" I pointed my wand at Fabian, he froze in place his eyes still on Barty.

"Fucking bitch" I grabber Barty by the hair and he crocked his face so he was smiling up at me.

"Hey baby" he winked and then winced when I pulled on his hair.

"What the fuck did you say to him?" I looked at Fabian who had a Blue eye and a split lip.

"Nothing" Barty mused and I scoff pulling him by the arm now.

"Come on, before he get's into trouble for beating your ass" He walked behind me wrapping his hand's around my waist and using me as support.

"Oh believe me, I definitely won" I rolled my eyes, we reached the common room and the others stared a bit before deciding not to give a shit.

I entered his room and set him on the bed getting cleaning supplies from the bathroom.

He was bleeding from his lip and from a split on the check which looked rather nasty.

"Does it give you pleasure?" I ask as I sit down beside him and take out a tissue cleaning his check of blood.

"Kind of" He wasn't smiling anymore, his brow ached and he winced when I got close to the split.

"You could ask me? I'll punch you once a week to death no worries" I grab his chin so he'll stop turning towards me.

"Why if your offering so nicely..." He grabs my wrist as I get to close again and winces.

"Your hurting me" he looks at me and I sigh raising my eyebrow.

"Yes well maybe don't get in cat fights" I lift myself on top of him so I'm straddling his lap, I stabilize myself on top of him so that I am taller than him and I can reach his check without a worry.

"Fuck" Barty mumbled as his hand's wrapped around my lower back and ass.

"Stop I'm trying to clean the wound" I run my thumb over his check.

"You are?" He crooked his face again and I looked down at his Bloody lip.

"Don't give me that Look, Crouch" I slap him lightly and he winces before starting to pout at me.

"Just one kiss-?"

"You have blood on your face." I push him back but he doesn't let go bringing me closer to him.

"Don't you love me?" He jokes and I laugh

"I love you Barty but you wouldn't give me head if I was in my period either so?"

"I'd give you head even if you were shot down there Love" He kissed my check and I laugh while he spreads his own blood on his lip and presses a lip on my neck leaving a lipstick mark.

"Fuck Barty" I rolled my eyes lifting his lip's to mine.

"I fucking hate you" I whisper but he shakes his head kissing my lip's open.

"I need you to shut up, cum on my dick right now and not hate me yeah?" He asks and I feel myself get wet on him.

I take of my skirt while he removes his belt and I adjust myself on top of him, he removes my top, a kiss after the other following, I help him take his shirt off and let my hand run up his stomach, I bite down on his lip and He pushes me back in pain cursing as the strange metallic taste fills my mouth.

"Fuck" he lifts his thumb to his bleeding lip and I laugh grinding myself down on his open trousers.

"That hurt's you know?" He grabbed my head and Kissed me softly on the neck whispering something to himself.

He looked up, his eyes tired and his face ruined from bruises.

"Gods you look hot" I whisper and he chuckles.

"I mean, imagine what I'm looking at? My dream girl in her underwear about to ride my dick, while my blood is marking her body? I can only imagine how feral Prewett would go on me if he knew? His ex-girlfriend loves me so much more" I roll my eyes at him, he places his hand on my hips and lifts me up taking my panties off and teasing me for some time before pushing a finger into my wet pussy.

I moan letting my head fall back as he pushes another one in until he hit's a soft spot.

"Don't talk about Fabian right now" I ask as I try not to squirm into him to much.

"Why?"

"Because he makes my pussy dry?" I mock and he grins up to placing a long kiss onto my lips.

"I only annoyed him because he kept talking shit about you darling" He opened his mouth against mine and I moaned as his fingers filled me up again.

"Ah fuck" I rest my forehead against his and he smiles sweetly.

"I love you" He kisses my neck and I throw my head back again letting him leave a hickey.

"Fuck me like you love me then?" I Moan and that's something you wouldn't have to ask twice, His fingers left me and came up to his mouth. I got lost in his eyes, the way his body moved against mine, my back ached at his touch and I panted softly against his skin.

He helped me move on top of him and made sure to tease me until I begged him again, the sound of him groaning made my stomach turn, he entered me with small pressure on my hip's as a warning letting me adjust to him for a while before helping me move up and down on him, his fingers digged into my skin while I tried to cover my moans, his lip's attached to my neck and tits as he drowned his own moans in my skin, the blood had dried up and when he would hover for a long period of time above me I would feel how a drop of two would land on my skin.

He took of my bra and I stopped for a second trying to catch my breath, he helped me move again and I cursed through my moans calling his name with every push.

"Fuck baby" His voice was near my ear and he placed a kiss right below it as I felt him twitch deep inside me, I didn't move for a while until it was physically impossible for me to hold him inside of me, he threw his head back, the ape of his neck daring me to bite it, he breathed through, I could see the sweat on his face glistering in the low light and My eyes searched for his as I released quietly shutting my eyes.

"Fuck you" his voice echoed around his room as he grabbed the back of my neck and pressed laughing kisses on my face, I felt his smile and Blood on my skin and I tried to find his lip's to kiss them alright, they we're puffy and somehow still bloody.

He leaned down so we could rest, I closed my eyes until we we're dry, his hand running up and down my back, I laid on his chest quietly drawing circles.

"Why'd you fight him?" I ask and Barty leans over to his table taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

"Who?" I take the cigarette from him and sit up leaning on the rails.

"Fabian Prewett?" I remind him and he laugh's.

"He said something about you, I didn't like it... so I spited him nothing more" he moves closer to me until his lip's are Inches apart from my, he breathes against me inhaling the smoke from my lungs and blowing it out again.

He stared at me, his face inches away from mine, I moved closer to him and he lifted his hand's up to my face, I felt his fingers sink into my hair as he kissed me, I held the cigarette as far away from us In fear that I would forget I was holding and lean into his strength.

I breathed him in and I felt his finger's wrap around mine taking the cigarette back, his lip's parted from mine.

"Come on lets wash you off, the blood is kind of disgusting" I laugh as He offers me a hand and helps me to the bathroom.

K<3

@siriusdumblittlepuppy happy early birthday<3

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konaanaria13 · 10 months

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The amount of times I gasped

Long Time Lovers

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: reader is horner’s daughter (very minimal scenes with him), enemies to lovers, Daniel and reader are besties, jealous!Max, some swearing (would it be a max fic without it), sexual relations (thigh riding, PinV), mentions of alcohol and the consumption of.

Word Count: 6.4k

Author’s Note: it’s fricking hard to find a gif without Max covered in red bull gear // this one is for @halsteadssneakylink, happy birthday baby!! <33 (now I know it’s not hard core smut like you wanted but bare with me lmao)

—–

It’s safe to say you didn’t have the best relationship with your father when you were younger. Your parents weren’t together, they were both in their early 20s when you were born and your father traveled for work, so you saw him twice a year maybe, three times if you were lucky. It wasn’t until you were 14 that your dad started making an effort to have you in his life.

He had brought you along with him to Abu Dhabi, even after much protest about how you didn’t want to go, ultimately you were glad that you did.

Your dad is team principal for Red Bull Racing, the year is 2012 and 14 year old you has just watched Sebastian Vettel win his 3rd consecutive world championship.

You hadn’t been there for the rest of the season nor did you even watch the sport prior to even seeing this race but you instantly fell in love with it.

The pride and happiness made your heart swell, you remember your dad had introduced you to the crew and to Seb before the race. Seb had come over and hugged you after the race when you congratulated him.

From that day, you were there for every race you could be. You had fallen in love with the sport; you felt the highs and lows just like the guys did; not to the extent the drivers did but you felt it. You loved the adrenaline rush you get pre-race, watching everyone rush to get the drivers into their cars and hooked up for the race. After Sebastian’s 4th championship, the team got a bit of an overhaul.

2013; Sebastian wins his 4th consecutive world championship and his teammate, Mark Webber, announces his retirement.

2014; Daniel Ricciardo joins Red Bull Racing, he and Sebastian being your favourite duo far, aside from Seb and Mark.

2015; Sebastian has just left Red Bull for Ferrari after 4 world championships, leaving Daniel Ricciardo there along with Daniil Kvyat as his replacement.

2016; Daniel and Daniil were still going strong until Max was promoted to Red Bull, bumping Daniil back down to Toro Rosso mid-way through the season.

It wasn’t until 2017 that you met Max, or as you liked to call him, the devil’s spawn.

2017.

You were sitting on the pit wall, one of the engineers going over stats prior to the start of practice which was in an hour. You felt someone grab your shoe and tug, pulling it off your foot.

Keep reading

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konaanaria13 · 11 months

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Max is so sweet

I ask if he feels he got his racing brain from his father, whose “Vercrashen” racing style is well documented, or his mother, Sophie Kumpen, who was successful in karting in the days when that was extremely rare for a woman. “They were very different,” he says. “My dad was more aggressive; you could tell it from how he was sitting in the go-kart and the way he was driving. My mum was more on the clean side. That has to do a bit with how much strength you have. I spoke to my mum about it and sometimes she was struggling a bit for strength; she was small compared to the guys. Then you can’t force the go-kart, you have to find another way.” He has watched footage of her and talks about it with pride. “It’s really nice to see,” he says. “She was racing against a lot of guys who ended in F1.” One of the rivals she would beat was Christian Horner, who is now his boss at Red Bull. “That is quite funny,” he says. “I’ve spoken about that with him; he realised that my mum was faster than him.” Of his parents, he says he got more of his mother’s personality. “My sister is more like my dad and I am more like my mum, more calm. My sister is more of a strong character, fired up.” Of their driving styles, though, he says: “I was probably in the middle of the two. I am still aggressive but probably a bit cleaner [than my father].” He tends not to talk F1 and business with his mother but, “when we joke,” he says, “she might say, ‘Maybe your style is more like me.’ ”

Max Verstappen: I’ve already achieved everything in Formula One via The Times UK

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konaanaria13 · 1 year

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I need this man in my life.

the way he hugs people…

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konaanaria13 · 1 year

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Perfect writing.

last call | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

a one shot based on the song last call by jamie miller, i highly suggest listening to it 'Cause when it's last call I wanna be your first call I wanna be your ride home You're gonna be my downfall

word count: 7.4k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, alcohol consumption

Max Verstappen was a lot of things.

He was a world champion, for starters. A two-time world champion, a title he carried proudly. He was on his way to claim that title for the third time, but he didn’t let the arrogance or the ease of it get to his head, there was still work to do this season.

He was a son and a brother. He cared about his family more than the media would ever know, always painting him as some sort of villain on and off the track to which it got to the point that Max simply stopped trying to change people’s opinions. His family knew who he was, he didn’t need to make any adjustments for them.

He was a friend, and a damn good one if he said so himself. To be fair, it was difficult to see the mates he grew up with when his job took him around the world and back, but he never forgot his roots. He cherished any time he got to spend with those in his close circle. He had a rule too, no phones. If he was with his friends, nothing on his phone mattered. That was also why he was deemed ‘antisocial’ during any breaks, however long. God forbid he not take any photos of him having a good time to prove he knows how to have a good time.

Last but most certainly not least, on Friday and Saturday nights in Monaco, he was a chauffeur.

Your chauffeur.

Neither of you were quite sure when this whole arrangement started, but did that really even matter?

Max pulled up alongside the curb of the club and sent you a text. A minute later you came walking out the doors, a grin plastered on your face as you said your goodbyes to your friends.

As you walked around the front of the car, Max tried to not let his gaze linger on the way your skirt showcased the length of your legs and how in a matter of a seconds you’d be sitting next to him and he’d be thanking his lucky stars he drove a manual so he had a reason to keep his hand off of you.

You climbed into the passenger side of his car, the seat was already adjusted to your height. There was an unopened bottle of water in the cup holder. An artist you listened to was already quietly playing through the speakers. Even if Max didn’t get a heads up that you were going out tonight, he knew what to do when you called him.

He knew that if the seat was pushed back you would complain, jokingly. He knew that you’d ask if he had water somewhere in his car and he knew that you’d ask for help to connect your phone to Bluetooth, if it hadn’t already died.

And while Max liked that routine, he also liked seeing your face light up when you realised you no longer needed to ask for anything.

“Hi,” you turned in your chair to face him. You were smiling, but you had been smiling all night. Did you mean any of them in the last few hours? The answer was unknown, but you certainly meant it now. You took one look at Max and you couldn’t help but smile, it was your body’s natural reaction, just like how you turned to face him as soon as you sat down.

“Fun night?” He asked. He always asked that, but you both knew he didn’t care about what you got up to inside the walls of the nightclub. If he cared, he would have joined you the number of times you politely asked him to when you saw him in passing when you left the flat. But Max just wasn’t a nightclub kind of person.

“Yeah,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Yeah, Rina’s a bit of a handful, but it was fun.”

“You stayed out late,” Max pointed out, but not in a type of way you would expect a parent to discipline their kid. It was simply Max calling attention to the time, the same time as always.

This was a habit you had fallen into, unintentionally.

Wherever you were, whatever establishment, when their bartenders yelled for last call, you pulled out your phone and called Max. The call for the last round of drinks was your reminder that you needed to go home and luckily, there was someone who would pick you up, every time, without fail.

It was convenient that you two lived in the same building. It may have been in passing that Max offered for you to ever call him if you needed something, but neither of you expected it to spiral into this.

He was just being friendly. It was the neighbourly thing to do.

Which is why you were hesitant the first time you called Max when you needed a ride home. But all of your friends had left you, you lost your credit card somewhere on the dance floor and in your state of mind, you were in no position to try and walk the streets of Monte Carlo alone.

So you called him, apologising about a dozen times but through the line you heard him get up from bed with a quiet sigh. You heard the jingle of keys and it wasn’t long before you finally heard Max’s car roar to life and he told you he’d be there in ten minutes.

That pattern of sounds became music to your ears before you knew it. The faint grunt as he stood up, the keys twirling around his finger, his car turning on.

Breath, keys, car. It was clockwork. It was something you pretty much expected at this point when you called him.

And Max, well Max knew it was pointless to even lay down, but he did on the off chance you didn’t go out. You always went out.

Max had a good heart. He wanted his friends to be safe and somehow, you had wormed your way into that layer of his life. You were one of his friends. And he would rather you call him every Friday night than have to wake up in the morning and not know if you got home at all.

It was convenient that he was home for the break. He was in Monaco. He could be there for you when you needed him, and he would be.

But that pegged the question, what did you do when he was away? When he was racing? When he was across the globe fighting for championship points, who did you call to pick you up at the end of the night?

Max never asked. In fact, the topic of his job never came up with you. You knew he was a Formula 1 driver, he mentioned it subtly, well he thought it was subtle, it really wasn't. And when you said “Oh yeah, my dad watches that. He likes Josef Newgarden,” Max bit his tongue so as to not tell you that your dad was referring to an IndyCar driver, a completely different series.

You knew very little about the sport. Even with Monaco being the pinnacle track of Formula 1, you never bothered to learn about it or keep up with it. Maybe that’s why Max found it so easy to talk to you in the first place. You never once saw him as a driver. You just saw him as your neighbour and on some nights, your chauffeur.

So one could imagine his surprise when you brought up his career during that drive home.

“When do you go back?” You asked, slight hesitancy in your tone as this was not a topic you knew well, your vocabulary was limited. “To racing?”

“Two weeks,” Max answered. “It’ll be my home race.”

He pulled up to a red light and glanced at you, instantly recognising that the term home race was not one you were familiar with, but you nodded as though you did.

“It’s in the Netherlands,” he further clarified. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you were reminded that he was Dutch.

“That’ll be fun,” you added.

Why was this awkward? Neither of you were usually ones for small talk. Usually you would get in the car and talk about the characters you saw that you knew he’d get a laugh at. You would be chatting his ear off, that was part of the routine.

And tonight, you were struggling to fill the silence. Max couldn’t tell why.

You knew why, however.

It was because when you were out tonight, your friend Rina was whisked away by someone who asked to dance with her. She blushed, her cheeks and neck turning bright red before saying yes and taking his hand to lead her towards the dance floor.

You watched with amusement, happy for your friend, but there was that sinking feeling of jealousy settling in the pit of your stomach. Granted, the man she was dancing with was not your type. He was tall, too tall, with dark features, an arm of tattoos. Sure he seemed charming and he certainly knew how to dance, but you weren’t jealous he had chosen Rina instead of you.

You were jealous that your friend had someone to dance with.

And you had been asked a few times by strangers to join them under the lights, but you turned down all of them. They weren’t people you wanted to spend your time with. They didn’t give you butterflies when you thought about the potential of starting something new with a stranger from the club.

No, you got those butterflies when you climbed into the passenger seat of Max’s car. They were faint, they came as fast as they went. They could have been mistaken for nausea if you weren’t certain you only had two drinks tonight.

But they were there.

Which led to your next thought, if Max ever asked you to dance, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

And you had been attracted to Max since the first day you saw him, basically, but you kept those feelings to yourself, even as they grew from a physical attraction to more.

Recently, however, they had been getting harder and harder to ignore.

So maybe that’s why you were struggling to move past this silence right now. You were suddenly looking at Max in a very different light. He was your friend, yes, but he had proven time and time again that he would show up for you, that he wouldn’t hesitate to pick you up no matter that hour. None of your other friends made that commitment to you.

But you would never act on any of it. The thoughts, the feelings. Max had never once hinted that he was interested, he was just nice. He was wholesome, despite what you had heard in the media. He was just looking out for you.

So when he walked you to the door of your flat that evening, you said goodnight like you usually did and you headed inside.

You had no idea that Max lingered in the hallway for a minute, debating with himself whether or not he should knock on your door. He’d done it before, making up some excuse to talk to you for just another few minutes.

Because the truth was, Max enjoyed the time he spent with you, even if it was limited to those car rides from the club to your apartment complex. He liked not knowing which version of you would climb into the passenger seat. While you were almost always talkative, there were times when all you wanted was a coffee at an ungodly hour. There were times when you were complaining about the people you met. There were times when you couldn’t stop laughing to the point that Max had to pull over because your laughter was angelic and contagious and he wasn’t about to risk getting into an accident because the two of you couldn’t contain yourselves.

Max liked the fact that you always called him at the end of the night.

For some weird reason, he liked that you were thinking of him. It made him so unbelievably happy to know that when the bartender yelled for ‘last call’ at the end of the night, he was your first call.

But those phone calls were only ever restricted to Friday and Saturday nights. And only when he was in Monaco. While you didn’t understand Formula 1, you must have followed it a bit to know when he wasn’t home. You never called him during a race weekend.

Except that one night last year when he was in Austin. It was just after 2am in Monaco, but Max was sitting down and having dinner in his hotel room. For you, it was early Sunday morning. For him it was still Saturday.

And it was because you didn’t recognise the pattern, you didn’t hear the breath, the keys, the car, you instantly knew that this was a weekend where he was away. He was working, racing, whatever he wanted to call it.

“Oh fuck,” you blurted out before Max could say anything. Your exclamation was met with a hefty laugh. He wasn’t annoyed in any means that you had called him while he was away, just a bit surprised is all.

“I can order you an uber,” He instantly offered. You heard the sound of him shifting on the bed and his voice then echoed as it bounced off the walls of his hotel room, like he turned on the speakerphone, like he was already looking for the app to order you an uber from halfway across the world.

“I can do that myself,” you argued.

The line was silent for a moment. You were both thinking the same thing. Why didn’t you just always call an uber? Why did you always rely on Max to drive you home?

Neither of you voiced that question. You had your own answers, but if they didn’t match up then that would lead to an entirely different conversation, one that you could do without, one that had the risk of ruining whatever sort of pattern you had fallen into.

“You okay? Did you have a fun night?” Max moved on, not wanting to think about how you were probably ordering that car for yourself. If he was in Monaco right now, he’d already be in the elevator down to the parking garage.

“Yeah, it was good,” your words slurred together. Not enough to alarm Max, but he knew you. He knew that the more you drank, the more honest you were.

You proved that point about two seconds later.

“Honestly, Jordan’s just fucking annoying,” you sighed. Max could picture you running your hands through your hair, you did that often, but especially when something was eating at you and right now, it was your friend Rina’s boyfriend. Boyfriend? Boy toy? Ex? Max tried to keep up, but there was a new label every week. It’d be easier to stay up to date with your life and the ‘drama’ that circled it if you saw him more than once or twice a weekend, but he wasn’t about to put that thought in your head and potentially scare you off. What you had was fine. The late night calls, the last calls turned first calls was fine.

“What happened now?” Max asked.

“Well we literally told him not to come out, Rina’s still pissed after what he did last week- oh shit, hang on.”

While you searched for what Max could only assume was a credit card or your lip gloss or something that should have fallen out of your pockets by now, he thought back to what Jordan did last week.

You sighed heavily into the receiver, “...what was I saying?”

“Rina’s still mad,” Max reminded you. “She hasn’t forgiven him for getting drunk at her parents anniversary dinner?”

You laughed, “God you have a better memory than me. I had to ask Rina why we were giving him the cold shoulder tonight.”

Point for Max.

Why did this little victory mean so much to him?

“Anyway, he tried to make it up to her tonight by buying all of her drinks but then his card declined like an hour in, who lives in fucking Monte Carlo and can’t afford drinks? He’s a fake, is what he is and Rina deserves so much better. I have a theory he’s-”

“That he's from Nice,” Max finished with his own chuckle. “Want me to hire a P.I. to look into it?”

There was a pause and then a very serious, “Can you actually do that?”

“I could but I was joking,” Max said. He could picture your pouty bottom lip. It was a good thing you weren’t actually with him. He probably would have given in and found a private investigator within an hour.

“Oh I think my uber- yeah that’s it,” you said, more to yourself than to him as your voice trailed off at the end. “I’m sorry for calling. I knew you were in Austin, I just- I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Max told you. “You don’t ever need to apologise for calling me. You know that if I was home I’d come pick you up, right?”

A faint inhale, one that held so many feelings that your words could never express, “I know.”

“Get home safe, okay?”

“I will,” you assured him. “And good luck today. Or- tomorrow, I guess. I know you’ll kill it.”

This was how Max knew you weren’t keeping up with Formula 1. He had officially claimed his second world championship title last weekend in Japan. He could quite literally sit out of the remaining races and still hold enough points to safely stand at the top of the driver standings.

But he wasn’t going to tell you that because he knew you’d instantly feel bad for not knowing, for not congratulating him. In your head, the championship fight went until the end of the season and typically it would, but this year was different for Max.

Max just said thank you and you both hung up. You climbed into the backseat of an uber where there was no water waiting for you and you didn’t dare ask for the driver to play Harry Styles. Max laid back on his bed, pushing his tray of room service aside as he stared up at the hotel ceiling.

When he returned that following Monday, Max was surprised to see dark blue streamers hanging on the outside of his door. There was a card shoved halfway underneath the door and he opened it up, looking at the delicate handwriting that read ‘heard you’re a world champion or whatever, let me know if you want to celebrate, I don’t mind picking you up for a change’.

Max laughed as he read the card. It was very you. You didn’t give two shits about the driver championship and Max loved that. He loved that you found reasons to be his friend outside from the fact that he was a Formula 1 driver. You didn’t care that his name came with power, wealth, fame, but you still showed your support with the little you knew about racing. You were a good friend to him.

And that’s what it was. Friendship. Why else would you have written, ‘I don't mind picking you up for a change’? You weren’t offering to celebrate with him, you were offering to be the designated driver after he went out with his group of friends, the friends that did care about his career.

Max would have gone out and celebrated with you. He would have said yes in a heartbeat, if you asked.

But you didn't. The closest that you came to going out with him was when you politely invited him to join you on your evenings out with your close circle, but Max was an afterthought. You never knocked on his door and invited him out, it was only if you passed him in the hallway or if the elevator doors opened and he was standing on the other side.

And Max said the same thing every time. ‘Nah, you have fun. Let me know if you need a ride home.’

Max thought you were just being friendly, neighbourly, but the truth was, you were waiting for the day where he said ‘Yeah, why not?’.

You never went out of your way to ask him out because of the rejection you had received in passing. How embarrassing would it be if you knocked on his door only to be met with the same rejection? To see the look of pity on his face as the door slowly shut.

There was a lot of uncertainty when it came to how you saw him or how he saw you and the only thing that was certain, was that you were friends.

So that’s why Max didn’t knock on your door now and make up some excuse about how you left his lip gloss in his car. He returned to his room and found himself staring up at the ceiling of his flat at 2:30 in the morning, something he had gotten quite used to, until sleep took over as he was thinking about how maybe next time, maybe next Friday, he’ll make a proper move.

But a wrench was thrown into his plans when your name lit up his phone screen a few days later. It wasn’t weird that you were calling him, what he couldn’t understand was why. It was a little after three on a Wednesday. Your conversations, the phone calls, the late night drives, they were confined to weekends.

Max answered though, maybe you left work early and accidentally drank too many sangrias on a patio. He’d pick you up, of course, this was just very unlike your pattern.

He expected to hear the slurring of words. He could understand drunk you enough to piece together what you were saying.

But the sharp inhale through your words, this was new. It was clear you were actively trying to not cry into the phone, trying to hold yourself together but Max heard it as your meek ‘hi’ came through the receiver.

And god did it break him.

“Where are you?” Max asked, already sliding his shoes on practically sprinting towards the elevator. Of course it was stuck on the main floor. No matter how many times he pressed the button, that steel boxed moved too damn slowly for his own good.

“Horizon,” you sniffed. Max recognized that restaurant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know who to call. Can you-”

“I’m already on the way.”

It wasn’t far. Max pulled up outside the restaurant in under ten minutes. You were sitting on a bench, dark shades covering your eyes but Max caught the way you raised your hand to wipe your cheeks before climbing into the car.

He didn’t even think to grab tissues before leaving his flat, but he had a feeling you would just deny them anyway. If he knew anything about you, he knew you weren’t one to cry. You had a very hard exterior, you felt things deeply, but you didn’t cry. Not in front of other people.

“Can we just- I don’t know, can we just drive for a bit?” you kept your gaze on the road in front of you. This wasn’t like you and Max would do anything to see the light in your eyes, to see your bright smile that made getting out of bed at 2 in morning worth it every time.

Max nodded, getting the idea that you didn’t want to talk. Or if you did, it would be on your own accord. You crossed one leg over the other and Max glanced at the beige romper you wore. He didn’t point out the dark red stain on your hem, but you rubbing at it was certainly not going to get it out. He could only assume it was wine? Did you spill wine on yourself at lunch? Who were you even out for lunch with?

And then he noticed you playing with the ring on your middle finger, again this wasn’t like you. You didn’t fidget and if you did, you’d play with the strands of your hair.

Max had seen you drunk, he’d seen you a few drinks in, he’d seen you sober.

He’d never seen you so upset over something before, though. The silence in the car was heavy. Whatever was on your mind, he wished there was a way for him to take some of the weight off of you.

He wasn’t travelling in any particular direction, just aimlessly around Monaco, but after the seconds turned to minutes, Max saw you visibly relax against the seat of his car.

“Do I know what I do?” You asked him, pulling your sunglasses off.

You both turned your faces towards each other. Faint mascara smudges stained the corner of your eyes. Your cheeks were still rosy, your jaw was clenched in anticipation of the rest of the conversation. This wasn’t the you that Max was used to, but it was a version of you he wanted to get to know. He wanted to know every side of you, even the sides you tried to hide behind sunglasses and spilled wine and choked back tears.

“Job wise?” Max asked for clarification. “Yeah, you’re ah- an environmental consultant? Right?”

You were a little impressed that he knew, but to be fair, you’ve had hundreds of conversations with Max and you weren’t sober for all of them. The discussion of jobs probably slipped your mind.

“I like my job,” you stated.

“Good. That’s important.”

“So why do I feel stuck?”

Max licked his lower lip, “Elaborate.”

“I’ve been doing the same thing since I graduated,” you told him, looking out the window again. Slowly, the Monte Carlo skyline was disappearing into the side mirrors. “And I like it, I do. I like the company I work for. I like the people I work with, but why does it feel like that’s the only thing I have going for me in life right now?”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Max sighed, but if he was being honest, he had no idea. What he knew about you was minimal and it killed him.

You nodded, but it was just out of politeness so as to not argue that he was wrong.

A few more minutes passed before you inhaled the heaviest breath your lungs could take.

“My sister’s engaged. Rina’s moving to Milan at the end of the summer. My brother travels for a living and I just- I’m not doing anything.”

So that’s what this was about. Max was smart, he could put the pieces together. You talked about your siblings a bit, but you never mentioned your sister getting married before. The way you were looking down at your hand throughout this drive told Max that this late lunch was you meeting your sister so she could announce the good news.

And something as big as that would undoubtedly send someone spiralling, making them question their own life choices, the path they were on. As long as Max has known you, you’ve had the same job, same friends, no partner.

Your best friend moving was not new either, you had excitedly told Max about her job offer a few weeks back, but maybe it was just sinking in now. Everyone around you was moving onto bigger and better things and you were, as you put it, stuck.

“I think I need a change of scenery,” you admitted quietly.

Which was not what Max wanted to hear.

Selfishly, he didn’t want you to leave Monaco. Even though he was the one who was gone so many weeks out of the year for the races, he liked knowing you would always be there when he returned home. That you were just down the hall.

Before Max could try and talk you out of moving, you reached across the centre console and put your hand over his, the one that rested on the gear stick. This wasn’t the first time you had done this, Max knew you to be a little handsy when you were drinking, but you seemed to be sober this time.

“I’m sorry for calling you,” you said, even though you really didn’t need to apologise. “I didn’t know who else to call and I just, I needed to breathe.”

Max found comfort in that.

That he was someone you could clear your head with, that you didn’t need to put on an act around him. In a way, you trusted him. You must have if he was your first call after your sister dropped a bombshell.

When the two of you found your way back to the apartment complex, Max walked you to the door like he always did. Your flushed cheeks had returned to its normal colour. Your eyes no longer looked glossed over. And the smile you gave him seemed genuine.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open and something in Max screamed now or never and before he knew it, he was reaching for your hand to keep you from going inside. He pulled you back to face him and the expression you wore was unreadable.

Max froze.

Something that he never did.

He was always calm and collected, always ahead of his thoughts, always knew what to do and when to do it.

But that was thanks to his training and his training only prepared him for driving at ridiculous speeds and navigating dozens of race tracks and thinking on his feet in tough situations while he sat behind the wheel of an F1 car.

His training didn’t prepare him for how stunned he would feel as he met your eyes, grabbing your attention for the first time outside the safety net of his regular car.

Whatever Max wanted to say, it had now vanished and he had no choice but to rely on the words that he had told you many times before.

“You know you don’t need to apologise for calling me, right?” Max said, his hand falling from yours.

“I know,” a faint breath of laughter followed your assurance.

“And for the record-” Max paused. “I don’t think you’re stuck. I think you’re right where you need to be.”

Max’s words stayed with you for the next few days. In fact, they were all you could think about, even when you met Rina Saturday night at your usual spot. She had ordered you a drink, she was a few in herself already and you had barely taken a sip when she brought up the idea of you moving to Milan with her.

You almost spit out the cocktail, “I- what? Move with you? Rina, my job’s here.”

“Yeah but you’re so experienced, I’m sure you could find another one in Milan,” Rina stuck out her lower lip. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do without my best friend.”

While you might have contemplated moving a few days ago, you weren’t sure you were really ready to leave Monaco. This was your home, you loved it here. Despite what you said to Max about feeling stuck, his words were burned into your mind.

You weren’t stuck. You had no reason to leave. You wanted to be here.

You just had a momentary lapse of judgement.

“I’m not moving, Rina,” you sighed, connecting your hand with hers. “But I’ll visit and you can too. I’m still your best friend, even if we’re in different countries.”

She knew better than to plead her case any more, deciding that spending the night drinking and dancing was more fun than thinking about her upcoming move.

And before you knew it, the DJ made an announcement for the last call at the bar and you were pulling out your phone to call Max.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Rina said, or rather, yelled, as the music was still blaring. She saw his contact on your screen, she saw the way the corner of your lips were pulled upwards when you thought about being with him shortly.

“Because I don’t feel anything,” you shouted back. It was a lie. A bold faced lie that your friend saw right through but didn’t push you any more on it.

She walked with you to the curb. Max rolled down the window and waved to her, offering her a ride as well. But Rina denied it, she knew this was your time to be with Max.

“Get home safe, I love you,” you called out, hand gripping the handle of the passenger side door. Rina blew you a kiss and then you climbed in.

Max reached into the backseat and grabbed the bottle of water he had tossed there when he left his apartment. He waited until taking a sip before asking if you had a fun night.

“Yeah, Rina asked me to move to Milan with her,” you answered, wiping the corner of your mouth. You looked at Max expectantly, trying to gauge what his answer would be. Surely the man who told you that you were in the right place wasn’t going to encourage you to move.

Max just hummed and put the car into drive. He waited until you were a few minutes away from the club to say anything, as if seeing Rina standing on the sidewalk in the rearview mirror was somehow going to make this conversation harder.

“What did you-” Max stopped himself and chose something else to say, “You’re not moving, though. Right?”

And then you saw it. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concern. The way his hand clenched over the gear lever. The way his jaw tightened as he fought with himself before asking if you were in fact leaving.

Max didn’t want you to go.

That thought alone made your stomach turn in knots, but not the kind you felt when you were sick. You were most definitely not sick, you could have been floating on cloud 9 when you realised Max wanted you to stay in Monaco.

“Are you kidding?” You retorted, feeling a burst of confidence. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you had been drunk before and never once tried flirting. No time like the present. “Think of how inconvenient it would be for you to drive to Milan every time I go clubbing.”

Max chuckled, his features softening as the lines around his lips made an appearance. God you loved his smile.

“Oh so you’re staying for my sake? Well that’s- that’s really kind of you. Thank you.”

He stopped at a red light and turned to you. The heavy weight that was lingering on his shoulders when you mentioned moving had disappeared instantly. You weren’t going anywhere. You would still be here when Max returned from his races. You’d be here during the break. You’d be here, calling his phone on those Friday and Saturday nights when you needed a ride home.

“Can I ask you something?” Max spoke quietly, waiting until you nodded before getting something off his mind that had been there since this whole driving arrangement started. “Who do you call when I’m not in Monaco?”

Your smile was soft as the corner of your lips were tugged upwards. Max, if he wanted to, could have convinced himself it was the alcohol that caused you to be all smiley, but he also wanted to believe he had something to do with it.

Dropping your gaze for a moment, you parted your lips, closed them again, and then took a breath as Max waited for your response.

“Max, I don’t go out when you’re not in Monaco.”

He was thinking he didn’t hear you correctly. Maybe you said you called some guy named Marco. That made more sense. You called a back-up rather than put your evening social life on pause while he was away.

He needed clarification, “What?”

You laughed this time, looking out the windshield. The traffic light was still red, but Max didn’t need to rely on the soft glow of the street light to make out the shade of pink that was climbing up your neck and cheeks.

“I don’t go out clubbing when you’re not in Monaco,” you repeated. He had heard you correctly.

Max wasn’t sure what to think.

He felt like an idiot, for starters. If he had known you wanted to see him, to spend time with him, he would have put an effort in to join you during your nights out. Or better yet, maybe he would have asked you on a date.

But he was clueless. He didn’t know that you relied on those calls at the end of the night because you were too shy to actually ask him out like a normal person would. You were too afraid of stepping outside of this pattern you both fell into because what if it didn’t work out?

Now it was all out in the open. The only reason you went out as much as you did when he was home was because you used it as an excuse to call him, to see him.

The blaring of a horn from the car behind him caused Max to shift gears, quite literally and metaphorically. He took off, having missed the light turn green, and his attention went back to the road.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at you, he did. He very much wanted to continue this conversation but he was at a loss for words.

The silence only grew during the drive back to your building. In the corner of his eye, he could see you shifting in the seat. You kept turning your phone on and off, hoping there would be texts to distract you from this hush that had fallen over the car. You were overthinking everything now, did you say the wrong thing? Would it have been better if you didn’t say anything?

Max too was overthinking everything. Had he misread signs you had tried to give him? Was he now making things worse by not acknowledging what you had said? With each passing second, it became more and more unbearable as you sat in anticipation for what sort of conversation was going to come next.

When Max finally pulled into the parking garage underneath the building, you couldn’t have reached for the door handle faster. You wanted to go inside, to forget you had said anything. God you even debated deleting his number from your phone so you didn’t risk calling him again the next time you went out.

But Max was quick too.

He knew he had to do something to make up for how painful this car ride was, something that showed you he was on the same page as you, that he too looked forward to the moments he was home just so he could wait for your phone call.

He stepped out of the car when you did, walking around the front instead of heading towards the elevator. You kept your eyes down, planning on just walking right past him, and you would have, had Max not grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you into his body.

His fingers moved from your hand to your waist as his other hand cupped the side of your face and you finally looked at him for the first time since you got into the car.

Now it was your turn to be at a loss for words, but that didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t like you had time to say anything before Max took that leap, crossed the line, and pressed his lips to yours.

And it was everything you had been waiting for.

Max leaned against the hood of his car as you slid your hand up his shirt, grabbing the thin material as you wasted no time in kissing him back. His mouth was tender and soft as it moved against yours, both of you feeling the same intensity that had been building up for weeks, maybe even months now.

It took everything in Max to not drag you back into the car and pull you on his lap in the driver's seat, an image that he had painted in his head a while ago. Instead, his grip on your waist just tightened, holding you against his chest the way he had been wanting to for a while now.

Your nose brushed against his when you pulled back, your gaze lingered on his lips before finally darting upwards.

The parking garage was quiet, there was a low hum that came from the pipes above you. The overhead lights did nothing to set any sort of mood, but you couldn’t imagine a better place to share a first kiss with Max.

You weren’t in the safety of his car, a place that had become so comfortable to you. By waiting until you stepped out, by stopping you from walking to the elevator, Max was showing you that this was something he wanted and he wanted it when the car ride was over. He wanted it before you called him, before you went out for the night, before the weekend even started.

He relaxed against the hood of his car, both of you sharing similar looks of serenity. There was no more confusion, no more wavering uncertainty.

His fingers brushed through your hair before bringing your lips to his once more.

And then there it was, that smile of yours that made getting into his car two in the morning so fucking worth it.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Max asked. He now knew the answer wouldn’t be going out with friends, that was reserved for when he was home.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure, why?”

“Well you said you wanted a change of scenery, right?” Max recalled your conversation from earlier this week. “How about the Netherlands?”

“You want me to come to a race?” You were probably the last person who should be invited to a Grand Prix and Max knew this, he even laughed at your doubtful response.

“I really do,” he said.

“I don’t know anything about Formula 1.”

Max rubbed his thumb over your side, the simple gesture was enough to have your body curving against his once more.

“I have all of next week to give you a crash course,” he pointed out. “If you’re interested.”

And of course you were. There’s nothing else you wanted more than to spend your evenings with Max, to learn more about his career, to learn about him. When your lips curved upwards into another smile, Max knew you were on board.

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You go out with me the next weekend you’re in Monaco.”

Max dipped his head back and laughed. You rested your hand at the nape of his neck, pulling his face back to yours.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he chuckled. “And I will, but we’ll be leaving before last call.”

“That’s fine with me as long as you still take me home,” you pressed your lips together tightly, trying to contain your eagerness for the night that was still far in the future. Max brushed his thumb over your lower lip. He too was thinking ahead.

Not just to that upcoming weekend, but every weekend after and all of the days inbetween.

Coming home to Monaco was always something he looked forward to, but now he had even more of a reason to anticipate the breaks between races. You two didn’t have to wait until a Friday evening to see each other anymore.

He didn’t have to be your first call at the end of the night, but you both knew he still would be, and so much more.

He’d be your first call when you got home from work and you’d be his when he landed in a new country. You’d be the first person to call him after watching his winning performance of a race and likewise, you’d be the first person he wanted to talk to, the first person he wanted to celebrate with.

There’d be a lot of firsts moving forward, but you didn’t need to wait until last call anymore.

masterlist here

this was mostly for @tsarinablogs and @estevries

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konaanaria13 · 1 year

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konaanaria13 · 1 year

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Plzz fasterrr

6 to 1 series | lando norris

all parts

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 (18+) still in progess

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konaanaria13 · 1 year

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Alcohol is Toxic as well

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of swearing cuz that's my fav thing to do.... ahm idk just like oh google translated French, Its a big one and I've been working on it for a while so I don't remember!

word count: around 8K

so its enemies to Lovers but also their toxic friends who are friends but just always fight and kind of are very nasty to each other yep yep yep!

nice.... (also rly bad grammar I think, nobody proof reads this)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

It was as if we we're just meant to like each other.

Both of our Families we're high in status so it was just natural that we had to spend a lot of time in the presence of rich people.

Wearing the right clothes and The right smiles, It was rather a surprise for my Mother when she heard the absolute disliking I took in The Leclerc boys.

Arthur and Charles the most since Arthur was just always repeating what Charles was doing and oh gods Charles was so irritating.

Enzo wasn't. But since I already Disliked two I went for the three while talking.

Sooner or Later My mother made me wear the Ferrari colours and stand in the paddock and having to watch the races so everybody knew that we we're connected of sorts.

She wanted me to marry rich and in High status so she could be happy.

Me and Charles we're different, he liked car's and I like Quiet study sessions so we simply didn't get along very well, but we had to spend a lot of time together as my mother and his mother we're basically best friends even though they we're two completely different people.

But it wasn't as if we didn't talk, we talked a lot, me and Charles the most since we we're about the same age and it was easy to talk with him, to sneak out at a gathering and get drunk on a rooftop talking about our lives as if we weren't screaming the dumbest insult at each other five seconds earlier.

It was an understandment that even though we didn't like each other we we're in the same boat both holding our heads high and smiling when the camera was in our face.

But Charles family was supportive, I loved his mother almost more than mine, but i couldn't since she wasn't my real mother.

My parents always needed me to be the perfect Daughter, I was the middle child before me came the Golden Boy who went on as a doctor and below me came the baby Boy who sailed the world and did whatever he wanted with our parents money but never got scolded for it.

I stayed. not that I wanted my parents we're cruel... or rather strict, They words stung almost harder than they're open palm even though my mother hasn't dared to lay her hands on me. at every gathering I liked having the Leclerc family there, for Charles mother to pull me into a hug, for all three of the boys to kiss both of my cheeks with a smile and for Charles to notice my exhaustion.

"You look wonderful" Charles handed me another glass of champagne.

We we're on a yacht in Monaco, a weekend before the race. The Stroll Family had organised some of the upper class people to attend it and My mother couldn't miss the opportunity to show of her new earing's, she looked beautiful as always.

"Thank you" I took a sip and we watched as Arthur and Lance talked.

The boy was talented and attractive. Just maybe I could try...

"Do you like him?" I ask Charles and he raises an eyebrow.

"As a driver I mean? Lance? He seems nice-"

"Very nice. He's naïve" Charles agrees and I roll my eyes as Charles takes out a whisk of Alcohol and pours some into my empty glass of champagne.

"How's University?" Charles asked.

"Fucking boring. I've been stuck on like five paragraphs and I have to attend this stupid Party rather than go to an actual one on my Saturday evening" I complain and he laughs.

"It does surprise me that you chose law" he says and I frown

"Why's that?" I ask annoyed.

"You just never seemed the type-" Charles started and I rolled my eyes again

"Cause I'm a woman?" This time he rolls his eyes

"No! Oh my god you always have to do this!"

"Maybe if you weren't a sexist dick-"

"I was ten! And I was simply surprised that you wanted to go karting! It wasn't about you being female!" He whispered so he didn't have to scream.

"Well I beat you anyways-" The race of luck I liked to call it.

"You could never beat me now so"

"Yes but the last time we raced I did so be quiet" The pure luck i had in that race was unbelievable.

"I am a literal formula one driver and you have karted twice how could you beat me now?"

"I don't have to beat you again. I already did so it doesn't matter" Charles looked like he was gonna explode.

"Your such a cunt" Charles whispered under his breath and I chuckle.

"Says the raging asshole" I mutter and suddenly I feel a harsh slap on the back of my head.

"Ow!" Charles had already turned to slap the person back just as I did but we both turned away as it was Enzo.

"Y/n your mother told me to tell you that if she see's you roll your eyes again she will kick you out of the house and Charles Mamon said that if she see's you insulting her again she will also throw you out of the house-" Enzo had that strict look on his face but me and Charles glanced at each other

"I don't live with her anymore-"

"Me neither"

"Both of you. Be nice and fucking smile."

"Yes." I whisper and Enzo leaves.

"You wanna ditch?" It was maybe thirty seconds after Enzo told us to be nice.

"Yeah. You got you car?" We slowly made our way to the stairway only to be greeted by Arthur and Lance.

"Hey- oh Lance its nice to meet you I'm y/n I'm sure Leclerc has mentioned me?" Charles pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Yes... nothing nice I believe" I glare at Charles.

"Snitch" Charles mumbles

"We'll he's simply always embarrassed because i am a better driver." I laugh it off and Charles roll's his eyes.

"So not true do not believe that-"

"I have a video? Dm me on Instagram and I'll send it to you? Maybe we can talk more on there as well?" I flirt my way in a circle so that now the two boys were in our spots and we we're at the staircase.

"Oh- yeah sure?" Lance smiled like a puppy.

"No. Your not getting her socials. Arthur take him away." Charles put his hand on my waist and pulled me away and off the boat.

"Hey! I was getting myself a date?" I push his hand off.

"Your not dating another driver on the grid!" He objects and I push him away.

"And why not?" I walk on the pond until I reached the side walk going into the harbour.

"Because your mother won't allow it- come on I'll drive you home? Or anywhere come on?" I pushed him away.

"Leclerc fuck off, I'm calling a Taxi it's fine" I hated when he did that. Interfered in a perfectly fine build up.

"Stop being a bitch and come with me" he grabbed my wrist

"Oh I'm being the bitch?! You always fucking do this and I'm so not putting up with it"

"Y/n I will literally drag you come on"

"Don't you dare" We've been in this situation before, if he pissed me off he would always make me go with him anyway and either walk me home or drive me home or drive me to his place it was all the same.

"Are you coming?"

"No go away." I try to take my wrist away but he pulls me closer and there it is again. When he is close and for a second I forget all the insults and stupid remarks he makes, all the pranks and games he's played on me. All of the rumours he made up and all of the harsh slaps i got because of him. In a second where he is so near its almost frightening me.

"Please y/n? I'll drive you home and you can sulk and cry about how much your parents hate you there." But it only lasted a second.

"You fucking asshole" I slapped him

"Let me go or I'll scream" I've slapped Charles plenty of times and every time he looked like he wanted to straight up punch me back but he never did.

"I will literally choke you to death" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I really didn't think of you as the kinky type Leclerc" I chuckle and Charles rolls his eyes.

"Come on" He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to his car.

It was funny how i never got interested in formula one over the years or racing of any sorts, even though I had to attend a good amount of the races.

"My mother is calling" Charles informed me about ten minutes into the drive.

"Yes Mamon" I looked in the backseat to see the duffle bag of Clothes

"Charles where are you two? Y/n moth is about to explode in anger, reporters came and you two are nowhere to be found" I chuckled while i got some boxers and one of Charles shirts out of the bag.

"Yeah Y/n got sick so we had to leave? I told Arthur to tell you" Charles raised his eyes brow at me as I put the shirt on and took the dress off beneath it.

"What its uncomfortable?" Charles looked way embarrassed as his eyes glued to the road.

"Noh Chére, Arthur ne nous a pas dit" and there was the French again.

"mère j'emmène Y/n dans mon appartement elle va bien" I heard his Mother frown

"S'il te plaît?"

"Fine, I'll tell her mother something"

"Mercy"

"Mercy Pascale!" I shout into the phone and Charles chuckles as he puts the phone away.

"What did you tell her?" I ask and Charles shrugs.

"Your coming to my apartment because your sick we can get drunk and watch a movie?"

"Do you maybe have....?" Weed brownies, It was Pierre's recipe and the first time I had them I wanted to merry Pierre.

"I can't I have a race next weekend" The stupid FIA and their stupid drug test...

"Yes but do you have?" Maybe it was mean but it wasn't my fault that Charles became a driver

"I do and yes you can have some" I smiled at him tossing the rest of my clothes in the back.

"Thanks gods its night or people will think we fucked" Charles says after it got dark.

"Hah?" I look up from my phone putting my legs up.

"Your dressed in my old shirt and my boxers what would you think?"

"That their comfortable" I remark and he smiles.

"Can you put your seatbelt on?" He asks after another beat of comfortable silence

"Are you worried about me?" I can't help but smile.

"No we're about to pass The police." I roll my eyes putting the seatbelt on.

As we get to his apartment my mother calls me.

"Are you absolute mental?!" Charles leaves me alone in the car.

"You cannot just leave! I will talk to you Father!"

"Mom Just- I was sick and I'm at Charles I'm sorry I should've told you? " I tried to avoid arguing with her.

"I'm still here so I won't talk about this now but your going to the race next weekend and I won't tell you father about your stupidity"

"Yes yes. Mom Leclerc is waiting I've got to go ill talk tomorrow" Charles was waiting he opened the door for me and helped me out giving me his coat so I wasn't completely naked in the street.

"Thanks." I mutter And he lets me hold onto his arm noticing my unstable state.

"How much did you drink?" He asks and I shrug.

"I had like three shots before I got on the yacht" I mutter.

"Why didn't you tell me I would've drove slower I don't want you throwing up on me."

"I'm not gonna throw up on two shots of vodka Leclerc" He opens the door for me and I enter his apartment.

"Never say never" Charles mutters with a laugh.

"I'm just annoyed at my mother" I explain and jump up on the counter while Charles gets me a glass of water as well as a shot.

"You're being nice today?" I take the shot

"Had a rough week" He says and I smile.

"What movie do you wanna watch?"

"Something scary so we can laugh" I ask and Charles takes another shot to survive the night.

"Alright you chose I'll get you your brownies" I jump down and find myself into the couch where I put Anabella on.

The next morning was torture. Not only did this bitch let me sleep on the couch and not bother to put me into the guest bedroom he also left with no breakfast in the fridge.

I cleaned the kitchen from last night's drinking session and took a shower until a friend picked me up with a fresh change of clothes.

The Monaco Grand Prix was the most grandiose GP and Everybody wanted to be the one holding the trophy at the end of the dat.

I arrived at the Paddock at Saturday walking in all black and wearing my sunglasses so people got the hint that I wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Yo! Y/n" Pierre kissed my cheek and I wrap my hands around his neck.

"Hey" I take my Sunglasses off.

"You don't look good.

"I was up late studying. I had an essay to write till today and I forgot about it."

"Come I'll walk you" The alpine boy hocked his arm with mine and walked with me to the Ferrari paddock.

"Leclerc hasn't returned any of my calls since last weekend do you know if he's alright?" I ask and Pierre shrugs.

"Has been running around a lot doesn't really have time to breath" Pierre says and I nod.

"Do you think he will win?" I ask and Pierre sighs

"I mean Ferrari started pretty bad but I think if he gets a good pole position then yes. I believe, also your here" He gives me a gentle smile and i raise an eyebrow

"I'm here?"

"Yeah don't you read headlines? Your like his lucky charm" I stop walking and stare at him puzzled.

"Like he performs better if he knows your watching, He would never admit it but it show's, every time you attend the race he relaxes of sorts because he knows your gonna support him no matter what." Unconditional Love. Pascale told me that one's...

"Its easy for you two to love each other, you don't expect anything"

"So he never has to worry about performing bad which leads to him performing good" Pierre talked as if he didn't just made me realize things.

"Oh." Oh

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you that he will kill me" Pierre laughs it off and I look up to see us standing in front of the Ferrari paddock.

"Don't worry, our little secret as always." He smile's and I bite my lip as I wat for Pierre to leave so I can walk into the Paddock but he stay's which must only mean one thing.

I turn around Charles smiling down at me.

"Hey" he kissed my cheeks and I greet him.

"Hey, how are you? Why haven't you picked up your phone?" I scold him and he rolls his eyes.

"I was busy calm down-"

"I am calm Charles but you can't just ignore me-"

"Hey Pierre" He ignores me greeting Pierre.

"Oh fuck you" I walk away from Charles into the Paddock And putting my sunglasses back on.

Charles got P1. It was rather surprising. The car wasn't that fast but Charles knew how to push its limits.

"Rather surprising" I set in the Paddock as Charles assistant comments on the subject with a down right look.

"Why? Charles is an excellent driver no one should expect less of him" I snap rather angrily and she nods embarrassed.

"I just meant-" Charles enters the Paddock getting out of the car.

"You did good" he walked over to me taking the bottle of water beside me.

"Best I could" He didn't look at me.

"Are you alright?" I reach out but he almost flinches.

"Yes I'm just stressed that's all love, don't worry" He makes sure to look me in the eyes now so that I know he isn't lying.

"Alright, yeah I'll see you tonight? After media?" I ask and he nods.

"Come by? we can have a drink?" He proposes and I nod.

"I'll meet you there" He let's me touch him, A brief second where his fingers brush mine.

In the evening I waited in the lounge for Charles, then i waited in my room, until I went to his knocking on his door.

"Yes I'm coming!" He sounded stressed and when he opened the door he stared at me.

"Shit- fuck I'm so sorry I completely forgot" He was in his boxer's and his shirt was unbuttoned, it wasn't like I haven't seen him naked, we ended up skinny dipping with Pierre and his friends a few year's back but it was always a pleasure.

But gods, he looked like a mess, his face was slightly red and his eyes we're as if he had cried and his lip's trembled when he talked.

"Jesus Leclerc- you look horrible what's gotten into you?" His hair was wet from a shower and i stepped inside reaching to touch his face.

"I just don't think-" he swallowed running his hand through his hair.

"I don't think I can lose this race, I don't think I can" He was having a panic attack. I pushed the door close and took my shoes off.

"Come on" the first time I saw Charles have a Panic attack was after he lost a karting event, I didn't know why it was so important to him since I rarely listened to them talk about the importance of races but I noticed his jittering fingers so I followed him into the cabin an. I tried to get him to breath, Enzo came thankfully and got him to calm down so I left them. Maybe it sounded cruel but I wasn't going to do him good back then since we we're so immature and I might even say I would have used it against him.

"Hey come on you wanna take a bath?"

He likes cold bath's

I tried to remember what I did the last time when I was alone with him like this but it was all gone.

"No I just need to breath" He looked up to the ceiling his eyes we're read, his skin felt hot and his breathing was uneven always taking one faster than he ended the last one.

" come on you need to breath" I lead him to the balcony where we we're met with the chill air and he set down, his hand's came up to his chest and his fingers trembled as he swallowed a sob after the other.

"Oh fuck- I'm so fucking done Jesus y/n I can't do this anymore" He cried out and I rubber my hands over his knees.

"Come on try to breath you fine" I waited until he leaned into my touch to take his hands where i made sure to give him a rhythm, I took his hands up when i wanted him to breath in and pushed them back down when He should exhale.

"Your doing great" I nodded at him and he nodded back.

After fifteen minutes he was calm and quiet.

I got up and got him water with some gin.

"You need a hug?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"Ew y/n" he was fine. I breathed through.

"I should've called Enzo" I mutter as he drinks the water.

"No. Your good." I don't think he was able to complete his sentences that night.

"I'm sorry. I'm really stressed." Short words. He was looking into the night sky trying to find the stars but the lights around us we're to bright.

"Do you want me to stay?" I ask and he find my eyes.

"Yes. Please." He adds and I smile standing up.

"Come on" he took my hand and I lead him to bed where he fell in comfortably.

I looked for his clothes from where i took one of his shirts and changed into them before laying down beside him.

"I am still angry at you" I whisper and he raises an eyebrow

"You couldn't have bothered to put me in the guest bedroom could you?" I ask and I see his faint smile.

"Room's are for people. Not for dogs." I gasp and slap his arm and I can't help but smile when he laughs.

"Gosh I wish I could help you" I whisper and I notice how harsh my words we're.

He didn't seem to mind.

"You are helping me" He says and I smile.

"I hate you with a burning passion" I tell him and he nods.

"Good. At least one thing that doesn't change" He says and I laugh.

"Yeah" He fell asleep first, It was late when I set up and brought my knees to my chest sucking in a shaky breath with a following sob.

It was Hurting me, of course he was an asshole, he did terrible things and made me cry uncountable times.

But I would never wish to have to sit there again, his shaky hands in mine, it was so fucking scary. I felt as if his heart was going to stop any second, His skin felt so cold, His eyes we're losing their pretty colour into a red teary Breath taking pain.

"Fuck" I let my nails dig into my skin.

"Be quiet" He turned around and I scoff returning to reality.

"Fuck off"

"Shut it" He frowned taking the blanket

"Wanker" I fell asleep.

The first time I was interested in a formula one race was in 2020 Baku race where Daniel and Max where on edge, I found myself in a bit of a crush for the Dutch Driver so I paid attention.

The second time was the morning after I had to hold his shaky hands in mine trying to be as steady as possible for him.

The entire race my skin was so itchy, so I scratched it off staining my fingernails.

My mother hated it when i did that but I didn't even notice till the end of the race.

Charles stayed in P1 for 80% of the race, at the start he lost it to Max but quickly got it back when max ran into a wall because his rear end hit the wall.

The second time he lost it was because of a pit stop fail and I swear I was ready to punch the crew member myself.

"Just push a bit" I muttered and he did, he caught up pretty fast as he thankfully changed to soft tires.

When he won My heart skipped a beat, I heard his scream over the radio, It was so full of beauty I needed to breath.

I took the headphones off and waited.

"Y/n Charles asked if you could put the headphones on?" One thing I hated more than Charles was Phone calls (which i got used to) or even worse radio calls (which really wasn't necessary for survival)

"Tell him he can come find me, I'm not talking to him over a radio." I wasn't that desperate was I?

"Yes ma'am" His engineer told the message to Charles and then Looked at me blankly.

"I'm not telling her that" The engineer said into the radio and I smile.

"Did he call me a raging cunt?" I ask and The engineer looks at me in shock

"Yes." He laughs.

"Tell him he can drive into a wall for all I care" I leave the paddock soon after not wanting to be on Charles last person list.

He called me when I got back to my apartment.

"Where are you?" He was clearly in a rush.

"At my apartment?" I asked as if I didn't ditch him.

"Come to the party?" He asked and I laughed.

"I'm not really in the mood-"

"Y/n i just won the most important race in my career put your favourite dress on and get the fuck to the Party or I'm gonna drag you here" His voice was filled with laughter, even though he wanted to sound convincing or demanding he was so over joyed that it was simply impossible for him to be angry.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No, no, you go have fun I'll join you in an hour" He hummed and I Heard the voices around him pulling him away.

"Promise you'll come?"

"Yes. I'll be there don't worry"

"I'll come to your apartment if you don't"

"I'm already on the way" I lie before hanging up and phone down.

I chose a red dress for Charles victory and made sure to wear the Necklace his Mother gave to me on his account on my birthday since he was 'occupied'.

I called an Taxi and took a shot so I wasn't completely sober when I got there.

It was rather cold, the party was on a massive yacht and It was almost overflowing.

I made my way up the steps carefully looking for Anybody I knew.

People seemed to know me and some came over to say hi but my brain was completely shut down.

"Y/n!" It was Pierre, Lovely Pierre who had a girl in his lap and called me over handing me his drink.

"Why did you leave early? Charles was worried! Where is he? Charles!"

"Pierre the night just started how much did you drink? " I laugh and Pierre took his drink back rolling his eyes at me.

"Are you really the right person to mother me? Miss let's see who can chug the most beer? When she was 17?" I laugh.

"Exactly I was 17 how old are you right now? 12?" Pierre scoffed and I looked around spotting Charles.

He wore a black suit and a white shirt underneath the first three buttons undone and he was talking to Max.

He looked pretty, his cheeks we're flushed red and he had a glass of cranberry vodka in his hands which was even more attractive now that i think about it.

"Pierre calm down on the drinking I'm going over to Charles yeah?" He gave me a thumbs up and I smile at the girl apologetic before making my way over to the bar.

"Hey Max" I ignore Charles leaning in front of him.

"Hey Y/n" He noticed my intention thankfully and decided on Ignoring Charles as well.

Charles put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer to him and Max laughed at me as I rolled my eyes at him leaning back comfortably.

"Clingy much?" I ask and he gives me the glass of vodka.

"Its an open bar for you" He tell me and I smile.

"Why be as clingy as you want then" I take the glass.

"Somebody know the real value" Max mutters and I raise an eyebrow in question.

"Free alcohol" He explains and I laugh.

"Congratulations on p2 btw" Max scoff's.

"Thank you but no thank you"

"What? P2 is amazing! It just proves that next time you will so better" I slap his arm as he roll's his eyes.

"You know for all the things you two say behind each other's backs you do make a good couple" Max leaves us and I scoff's pushing Charles away and turning to him.

"Red for me?" He asks ignoring Max's comment.

"No for Carlos I wouldn't wear shit for you." I drink my drink.

"Really? I'm pretty sure I chose that necklace for your 20th?" Charles picked the small red heart shaped gemstone.

"It was from your mother."

"No! I chose it and I wanted to give it to you myself but I had a race you cunt" he dropped it, my skin missing his touch.

"Liar! Your mother didn't tell me you had a race and we all knew you didn't chose it you we're off somewhere while I had to spend five hours in a thight dress smiling for pictures. " I scoffed at him and he stared at me.

"It was a Sunday. I had a race in Spa Belgium. My mother didn't tell you because she didn't want to worry your Mother who always made a big fuss about it and would've want you to join me. But it was your birthday and you hate to attend the races" He explained and I swallowed.

"I got you that necklace a month even before your birthday. I got it In France, me and Pierre we're driving around all afternoon because I knew you wanted That exact one. It was the one you asked your Father to buy you that summer" Charles just talked and explained while i stared at him, how could such an insufferable annoying little shit be such a sweetheart all of the sudden rather has always been and how was I only noticing it now? Charles kept defending himself for another 5 minutes calling me a raging cunt five times as well.

"Thank you" I interrupt him at some point.

"It's one of my favourite necklaces. Thank you" It became my favourite in that moment.

"and I don't hate attending your races"

After another two drinks Lando and Carlos came over and started to talk to Charles about the race.

"Lando you wanna dance?" I asked the brit and he Looked at Charles for an answer.

Charles wasn't listening so he just shrugged and offered me his hand.

"Why not" He let me walk behind him until we got on the dance floor where he put his hands on my waist and guided me to the music.

"Did you and Charles fight?" He asked over the music leaning down so i would hear him.

"I mean we always fight" I shrug letting my hands fall around his neck.

"Yes but like why did you want to dance with me and not with him?" He asked and i raise an eyebrow.

"Maybe Because i don't like Charles?" I laugh and Lando scoffs.

"To be honest The first time i saw you two i thought you we're dating" I laugh at his stetment.

"But then you trippee him and walked over him so I was like nah... But it did take Carlos to tell me that you weren't dating so i would belive it.

"Oh?" I laugh at him and He smiled.

"Well We're really not- so yeah I'm single like a Pringel" I joke and he laugh's again.

The first time I met Lando Charles had told him that I was a huge McLaren hater which obviously wasn't true but Lando believed him and would straight up ignore me for a month.

Carlos confronted him for me and then he laughed at the both of us for a week before clearing it all up.

"Come on let's get another drink before i start sobering up again" Lando took my hand and got us back to the bar where I ordered two beer's on Charles account.

"I can pay its fine" Lando tried but i Scoffed.

"Charles is paying don't worry" I hand him the bottle and he smiles.

The night went away quick and soon the people started to leave, Lando had pulled me into his lap as we set in a couch cirlce where the other drivers had started to gather around aswell.

"To be honest I though I was gonna spin out in the fifth lap but i somehow stayed in control" Lance had started talking to Lando and I watched as the two drivers exchanged infos about they're car's.

"Y/n whats your favorite car?"

"Oh I'm not really intrested in car's" I sip on my drink and they laugh.

"Its a Ferrari" Charles set down beside me and I waved a Pierre who took the seat beside Charles.

"Hm?" I Raise my eyebrow.

"Your favorite car is a Ferrari." He says and I smile.

"Is it now?" I ask and he nods taking my hand.

"Yes so you can get down from the McLaren now." He yanked at my wrist and I almost fell off Lando but Lando made sure to Hold me not paying attention to Charles.

"Ow fuck you" i take my hand away from him as he smiles.

"Y/n i swear if you fuck one of the Drivers im calling your mother" Charles says and I scoff.

"You wouldn't dare! And im not fucking anybody anyways... just having fun" I turn away from him but he doesn't let me.

"I'm being sirius. Nobody on the grid."

"How about I fuck you engineer and check if he will be able to focus on you again while I'm in that fucking garage?" I push his buttons.

"Y/n I'm not joking-"

"Stay out of my love life Leclerc. It doesn't concern you." I spat and Charles stared at me for a while, My head kept spinning and gods his lips looked angelic.

"Don't be like that" he asked and I swallowed harshly.

"You were the one who just tried to push me off a man's lap"

"I didn't push you off your over reacting"

"Maybe because i've been drinking for five hours straight to a party you made me come to?" Charles noted my comment and nodded then turning away.

"Well good point, still you try to much Xavi and I'm actually gonna punch you" Charles Grabbed his beer bottle and I scoff.

"Xavi and I have already fucked-"

"No!" Charles and his nöh's we're rather interesting.

"Yës!" I mocked him and he yanks my hand again.

"Say your joking!" He pull's me off Lando's lap and I stand up so that Lando let's go off my hip.

"Make me" I laugh and jump over some peoples feet as Charles launges up to catch me.

"Y/n i swear to god! Say your joking" I run through some people and out on the open where Charles catches me pushing me against the rails. His hand's lock me in place and I push mine on his arms trying to push him off

"What if I'm not?" I ask and he groan's his hand falling on my waist.

"I'm gonna push you off this boat" Charles said and I smile.

"Push me" I dare him and suddenly his hand's come up beneath my thighs picking me up and I shriek putting my arms around his neck and wrapping my legs around his waist as he set's me down on the railing.

"Okay, okay fine I'm kidding! Don't let go" I eased when he didn't push me further and simply let me sit on the rail and look down on him.

Charles breathed through and let his head fall in my lap for a bit.

"Your a torture"

"The best you can get" I lift his head he smiles.

"I don't get us" he says and I nod.

"Yeah you we're about to kill me and now your simping for me again, chose a side will you?" I laugh and he groans again.

"You wanna go home?"

"Can I sleep in an actual bed rather than Your old couch?" I ask and he scoffs

"That's a brand new couch" he protests and I frown.

"Alright get me down" His hand's came up on my thighs again and he put's me down and guides me back to the bar so he can pay his hand resting on my lower back.

"Alright we're off" Charles Kissed Pierre on the cheeks and I hugged Lando kissing his cheeks.

"Bye" I hit Pierre on the back off his head and ducked behind Charles when he hit me back.

"Fuck you" He muttered and Charles guided me down the yacht.

"The cab should be here any minute"

"Ugh" I took my phone out and leaned against his chest with my back.

"What are you doing?" He put his head on my shoulder.

"Following Lando On Instagram" I mumble as I go to DM him

"Why?"

"Maybe we can go out sometimes" I muse and he snatches my phone putting it in his pocket.

"No" I roll my eyes.

"Jesus I'm just being friendly Leclerc, give me my phone"

"No your fine, come on get in the cab" I stumble along the pavement until I Reach the car where He opens the door for me and lets me inside.

I take my Highheels off and he takes them holding them for me. I watch him.

His eyes as he thinks, his lip's as he tries to form words, his hand's (gods his hands) the way his fingers lingered on my shoulder and the way He breathed slower.

He helped me out of the car as i tip toed up the stairs to his apartment so I wouldn't get my feet dirty which he picked up on so he grabbed my by the waist and i shrieked again as he carried me up the stairs in a second.

"Jesus Leclerc you got to stop doing that! How do you have this much strength anyways?" He set's me down on the cold apartment floor after he opened the door for me and I walk into his Bathroom washing my face off and breathing through.

I take off the necklace and my rings leaving them on the small plate where all of his Rings we're placed.

Charles was sitting on his bed scrolling on his phone as I got into the room looking through his closet to get my favourite shirt.

"Can you help me with the dress please?" I ask and he got up unzipping it for me.

"Thank you" I mutter covering my chest as I pulled his T-shirt over my head and turning around to face him.

"Are you tired?" He asked and I nod with a smile.

"Yes very" I look at the clock at his desk which said 05:00 AM.

"Are you still drunk?" He asks and I shake my head.

"Are you alright?" I ask and he smiles.

"I don't think I've ever been happier." He tells me and I smile.

"I don't understand us" He tells me again.

"I know. I don't either. Not since we started to... I don't know become friends." I nod and throw my head back in despair.

"But let's not tonight, let's just be happy tonight and fight about it tomorrow?" He asks and I nod.

"I'm gonna go wash up you can go to sleep already?" He breaks us back into life and I push myself over to the bed falling down.

I don't know if I fell asleep or not but I felt him beside me after some time. I didn't want to open my eyes when I felt his finger's push my hair behind my ear, I didn't want to open them when he pulled me closer by the waist and I didn't want to open them when his lip's touched my forehead whispering a good night.

We didn't talk for a month after that. I went back to studying and he went back to racing, I got out of my mothers way when ever she tried to get me to something he was attending, we had both come to a realization that we did like each other, that we didn't hate each other and I noticed how people had started to ease around me when they knew Charles as if he had stopped Saying all those things about me so Initially I stopped as well, Just skipping over him when he came up in a conversation trying to get myself away from thinking about him.

"Come on we're going out" it was about 11 P.M. and I was sitting in the Library going over some material trying to memorize several text's.

"Hm?" It was a friend of mine Ashley who already took my coat and helped me up.

"You've been stuck here for five hours we're gonna go change and then go drink.

"I really have to finish this" I tell her but she already pulled me away.

We went to a shady club somewhere at the end of Monaco and she made me take about ten shot's one after the other before taking me to play bear pong.

"Y/n I'm off with- what's your name? Julio you have fun!" it was about two when Ashley left, I kept on drinking feeling myself in the moment and dancing with random guys I found at the bar.

It was four when i ended up outside walking along the street trying to think of somebody to call.

"Pick up" I pled Having Charles number pulled up while The phone started to ring.

"Oui? c'est quoi ce bordel? qui est-ce?" Charles picked up his deep voice made me blush immediately.

"Hey where are you?" I ask and I hear him shuffling.

"What? Y/n its 4 A.M? I'm at my apartment? where are you?" I heard him shuffle some more and yawn.

"So your in Monaco?" I ask and I hear him frown.

"Yes? Its summer break? Are you drunk? Where are you?"

"Not drunk! Just a bit tipsy" I balance myself on the pavement falling down.

"are you alright? where are you?"

"Fuck, I'm I don't know where" I look around.

"Are you alright? what happened?" I heard him stand up and go through his closet.

"Just fell down. Uhm I'm sorry I just wanted to.. I don't know we just haven't talked and My mother has been pushing but I just didn't want to see you" I explain and I hear his house door close.

"Send me your location I'll be there in a second" He orders and I sigh Trying to do as he says.

"Y/n can you hear me? your location?" Charles asked again after a while and I swallow a sob. I send him my location looking at his message which was sent a fucking month ago.

"Yeah, yeah, You don't have to come I'm alright I'm just sorry... I kind of messed us up" I tell him and hear him scoff.

"We're fine, your fine, I'm fine, I'll be there in a second just wait" I nod and hear how he gets in his car. I get up and start walking again.

"Y/n?" He asks and I wipe away my tears.

"Just breath alright?" He asks and I Breath through nodding.

"I'm sorry" I whisper and hang up looking around while i wait for him.

Gosh how I love his car. The black Pista pulled up on me and He got out putting his coat around me in a second.

"Jesus you look fucked-"

"Fuck you" I scoff as I wipe away my tears again trying not to cry as I lean into him.

"Hey, hey come on your fine" He pulled me into a hug and I nod against his chest and he Helps me into the car opening the door for me.

"Come on you wanna go to your apartment?" I shake my head.

"I wanna go to yours?" I ask and he smiles.

"As you wish Chérie"

We drove in silence and I took my High heels off.

"Thank you for getting me" I whisper after a while.

"Always" He smiled and I lean my head against the window watching him drive.

"I think you we're right" I tell him and he raises his eyebrow.

"I do like Ferrari the most.... at least if your driving" I add and Charles smiles.

"Thank you I believe myself to be a quiet good Driver" I stare at his hand's.

"can I hold your hand?" I ask and he frowns but holding me his hand anyways.

"Why? Don't bite me please" I laugh leaning into his direction as he let's me hold his hand, i don't hold it but rather examine it letting my fingers run over them, they we're solid and his skin was hard in some places.

"What are you doing?" He asks after a beat of silence.

"I don't know, trying to figure out why I'm attracted to somebody's hand's" I state and when i look at him I see how flushed his face has gotten.

"Alright stay for a second" he stopped the car and I look outside seeing that we have arrived. He opened the door for me and helped me out taking my high heels and I go up the stairs faster than he so he doesn't attempt to carry me up again.

"Let me" He opened the house door for me and I walk into his apartment falling onto the couch.

"Don't do that, go to the bathroom and wash up yeah?" He tapped my leg and i rolled off the couch doing as he told me.

I washed my legs in the shower for a second and cleaned my face off before finding myself to his bedroom where he got me a hangover drink and some water.

"Do you just have those laying around?" I point to the hangover drink which he hand's me.

"I do actually yes" I drink the shot of whatever the fuck is in those things and Cringe handing the empty bottle back to Charles who was smiling at me.

"Thank you" i mutter and see that he already laid out the shirt I liked.

"Can you help me with the dress?" I ask and he does unzipping it for me.

"Thank you" I mutter again and cover my chest as I slip into his shirt.

"Are you alright?" He asks as I sit down on the bed.

"No... I'm so fucking Tired" I laugh and he hands me the water bottle.

"Me too" he informs me and I press my lips together.

"I shouldn't have called you" I tell him and he scoff's taking my hand and pulling me into him so I flop down on his chest in exhaustion.

"I'd rather have you call me than anybody else" he tells me as I curl up into his side, he holds my waist and I feel how his breath steadies.

"Thank you Charles"

"I love it when you say my name" He tells me and I Smile turning around so I'm facing him, I lift my finger and push his hair out of his face so I can touch him.

"I think we're kind of unhealthy" I tell him and he laughs hugging me a bit more giving me enough room so I can bury my face into his neck and breath in his scent.

-K<3

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