moossings - Tumblr blog

moossings · 6 days

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drawn in

the f1 mafia au that no one asked for and won't leave my brain at all. mainly charlos, but featuring most of the grid and ex drivers. i've been worldbuilding with @5ainz (bless for bearing with me) and in between drawings and character sheets, i ventured to write this tiny snippet to hype myself (and be less scared of writing). if you read this, thank you and enjoy! ✨

“You shouldn't be here.”

Carlos’ eyes don’t move from the painting. The Death of the Virgin, by Caravaggio. He smiles to himself, shaking his head. He wouldn’t expect less from the Rosso Corsa, always proud and ready to show off their legacy. Come to think about it, everything in his life was linked to red somehow. And at the same time, inevitably, to the wounds it left.

“Are you going to kick me out, altezza reale? Like a bad behaved dog?” He does turn his head then. His tone is supposed to be mocking, but the moment brown eyes meet green, his resolution falters.

Charles Leclerc, composed as ever, stands on the door, as if he had just closed it. Carlos swears he hears the lock turn as well, but his mind is rather busy tracking every single hair out of place, from the top of his head to the strands scattering on his forehead. His gun feels heavy where it rests in its holster under his jacket.

“And aren’t you the most loyal one? Fernando must be proud.” Charles leaves the door to stand next to Carlos, shoulders almost brushing but not close enough. It’s their thing, throw knives and dodge, push and pull. The Inspector’s little prince and the right hand of the Spanish Samurai.

The silence between them is not awkward, but it feels tense in the same way the air is charged right before a storm. They look at the painting, but the details they recollect are not the brushstrokes or perspective of the piece. It’s the subtle hints of cologne coming off Charles’ skin when he tilts his head, following the lines of the old wood on the frame instead of the ones of Carlos’ perfectly tailored suit. It’s the flex on Carlos’ clenched fists as his mind repeats over and over how very not good it would be to reach and find out how Charles’ hands feel with their fingers laced.

“Did you know,” Carlos says, his voice almost a whisper. “This painting was rejected by the patron who commissioned it. No one had ever painted the actual death of the Virgin, it was a dogma, and Caravaggio depicted her as mortal: pale, bloated and devoid of spirit.” He sighs and looks sideways at Charles, from under his lashes. “It is also said that Caravggio painted her after a prostitute, so maybe that was the real reason.”

Charles tries to school his features, to stop the smile from being evident, but those sweet dimples betray him. Time to stop pretending, it seems. “I didn’t know you were interested in art.” He turns to face Carlos fully, carefully studying the strong features he usually only catches in glimpses. He is setting the ground for truce, building the bridge.

Carlos chuckles, and it sounds tired. “Really? Don’t tell me Sebastian didn’t include it in my file. He used to be more thorough with his research, he is starting to slip.” But he still faces Charles, willing to meet him halfway. “There is a lot more that you couldn’t possibly know.”

“What if I wanted to find out? What would it take?” Charles takes a step forward. Carlos lets him.

“Stupidity. Recklessness. Naivety.” He counts with his fingers, brows furrowed but playful smirk. Charles can’t really tell which one he actually means. “Trust.”

“That sounds like a challenge, Sainz.” And Charles has never backed up from one. Today is not the day he’ll start.

He extends his hand and, in seconds, a warm bigger one takes it in a firm but soft grip.

“It’s Carlos.” A smirk draws up the corners of his full lips. “You are in for a ride, cariño.”

#srb #i still can’t believe i did this #it’s definitely not bad #can’t wait to prove to myself i can actually write

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moossings · 11 days

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So, @pitstoptaken sent me a reply with the prompt: Them being university people. They’re not really close, just know each other from friends. But one day things happen like, a 7 minute in heaven or something. “So are you gay or bi or?” // “does it really matter?”

And this came out:

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Carlos wonders, pointing with his head towards a taller guy, one that’s leaning against the wall as he intently stares at his phone. There’s a frown on his pretty features, and Lando isn’t the one to think other men are pretty, but this guy had commanded their attention from across the room. He was pretty.

“Him? Oh, that’s Charles, isn’t it?” Lando nudges Alex with his elbow and Alex nods, smiling happily as George pets his hair. “He’s a Modern Languages student, we go to the same translation theory class.”

Carlos nods along with the explanation, but a frown takes over his face. “So, there’s nothing a guy like me could ever have in common with him, huh.” Carlos muses, and Lando nods, almost solemnly. “Except…”

George places a glass, loudly, on top of the table, and grabs a glass beer bottle and a knife, making them clink and calling the room’s attention.

“Let’s play spin the bottle!” George claims, and the room erupts in equal part groans and laughter. Carlos doesn’t take his eyes off the handsome stranger, that doesn’t seem uninterested, but he couldn’t say he was on board with the idea, either.

“Volunteers can come to the kitchen floor and sit in a circle. Everyone else go back to your own conversations!” George demands, and the room erupts into laughter again, while some people move towards the kitchen.

That’s the moment the stranger looks up and catches Carlos’ stare on him. It must’ve been intense, because his expression was surprised, at first, but then, it turned… mischievous? The light wasn’t helping, though, and Carlos felt a shiver coming on when a trickle of cold sweat went down his spine at the little daring smirk the stranger was shooting his way as he, silently, walked towards George to stand directly behind him. They never broke eye contact. And Carlos tried his best to swallow around the dryness in his mouth.

Alex offered him a bottle, an eyebrow raised at him.

“You might not have to talk much with him, mate.” He joked. Carlos nodded.

Of course, George rigged the whole thing. And now Carlos is standing awkwardly in the middle of a hallway, catcalls coming from the living room, being ushered by George in the general direction of his bedroom – which of course he knows where it is, but it’s awkward, alright? – with a hand on a certain Charles Leclerc’s wrist.

Charles’ expression is almost unreadable in this light, but just judging by general feel, he doesn’t seem stiff, or nervous, he’s just an almost complete stranger that Carlos pointed out at this party. He walks quickly, still hearing the catcalls and wolf whistles, and takes a left so he can enter George’s room, closing the door behind Charles’ frame with a soft click.

“Who plays seven minutes in heaven anymore?” Charles quips, and Carlos feels caught. If he hadn’t pointed at him earlier tonight none of this would’ve happened, but now it’s too late to back out.

“It’s all George’s idea.” Carlos replies, running a nervous hand through his hair. “It was his plan to get to make out with Alex, but…”

“It landed on us, instead?” Charles wonders, and Carlos can see clearly how his eyes sparkle in the dimly lit room.

Surrounded by Lewis Hamilton posters, the whole scene isn’t how Carlos had imagined it would be, but he straightens his back, nonetheless, taking the leap to sit on the bed. At least he’s going to talk to the guy.

“What’s your name?” Charles wonders, and Carlos can’t help it, he smiles.

“I’m Carlos.” He replies. Charles shakes his head.

“You’re kidding.” Charles says, a bright smile and a soft laugh escaping him.

“No, I’m not, my name is Carlos Sainz—”

“We’re both named the same?” Charles interrupts him, and Carlos nods. He hadn’t thought about it, but there were some friends in this very college that called him Charlie, even.

“I go by Carlitos, though. You go by Charlie, right? I’ve heard Alex mention you.” Carlos says, and Charles nods. “I have some friends back home who called me Charlie, too.” Carlos admits, and Charles grins at him.

“Cats or dogs?” Charles asks him.

“Dogs.” Carlos replies, without thinking. Charles nods, agreeing with him. Then, it’s Carlos’ turn to question him.

“Do you have siblings?”

“Two brothers, I’m in the middle.”

“I’ve got two sisters and I’m in the middle, too.”

“Huh.”

“How old are you?” Carlos wonders, and Charles blushes a bright scarlet.

“I’m just shy of 21. In a month.”

“I just turned 24.”

“So you’re about to graduate?”

“Yeah, engineering. You?”

“I’m in my third year of Modern Languages.” Charles explains, and his phone pings loudly. “Actually I was checking on a group project when George called us to gather…” But he ignores the phone and sits right next to Carlos on the bed. Carlos feels the bed dip under his weight and leans towards Charles to bump his shoulder.

“Oh, that’s why you were frowning so hard.” He quips, sliding slightly closer to Charles in his movements. He didn’t seem to notice, but the next question made Carlos take pause.

“So, you were staring.” Charles says, more of a statement than a question.

“What if I was?” Carlos replies, a little defiance creeping into his tone. Charles laughs very softly, a twinkle in his eye.

“Are you straight or bi?” Charles goes right for the kill. Carlos, emboldened by the question, places a hand on Charles’ thigh.

“I’m bi. You?” He replies, clearing his throat and looking for eye contact, finding Charles’ eyes already trained on his.

“Gay.” Charles replies, almost a whisper.

“Huh.” Carlos says, inelegantly, his eyes darting towards Charles’ lips. His cupid’s bow is ridiculously charming and inviting. “Does it really matter, though? I’ve wanted to do this all night.” Carlos says, his face getting so close to Charles’ they’re sharing the same breath.

“I’ve been staring at you since you arrived.” Charles replies, his eyes trailing Carlos’ features and focusing on Carlos’ mouth as he smiles mischievously. Then, Carlos proceeds to lick his lips, and notices how Charles’ pupils start to dilate, and his eyes follow the movement.

“You’re cute.” That’s the last thing he says before he captures Charles’ mouth in his. He licks Charles’ lower lip, making him moan softly, shifting slightly on the bed to make room for Carlos to get closer, and Carlos takes the opportunity to push inside Charles’ mouth, tasting him all over. Charles is incredibly responsive, his body going pliant under Carlos’, who pushes him so he can lie on the bed. He shifts his position to lean on top of Charles, who now is lying flat on the bed’s surface.

After noticing how close Charles is to the edge of the bed, he pushes back on his knees and grabs Charles’ hips, lifting him slightly and moving him so they can both be centered, and Charles kicks off his shoes in the process. Carlos does the same and goes back to kissing Charles with abandon, but Charles takes his time, leaving soft, tantalizing bites on his lower lip, and it makes Carlos shiver.

When Charles is grabbing a fistful of hair and Carlos’ hands are roaming under Charles’ shirt, a faint knock on the door is drowned out with soft whimpers and moans as they both roll their hips together, Carlos fitting a knee between Charles’ legs and making him squirm and groan. Charles pulls at Carlos’ hair and rolls his hips once again, looking for more friction, and Carlos can’t help when a very loud moan escapes his lips.

Another knock, this time loud enough to make them pause.

“—los, the seven minutes are up!” Lando’s voice is heard behind the door, and Carlos can’t help when a petulant little moan escapes him as he leans over Charles to shield him from prying eyes in case they were to open the door.

“I heard you! Give us another second!” Carlos replies as he fixes Charles’ shirt, covering him up again. He tends to his hair, too, that got all rumpled with the pillows.

Charles giggles under him, covering his face with both hands and then using a pillow to hide his expression, but Carlos notices he’s blushing furiously.

“Hey. Charles.” Carlos says, lifting the pillow off Charles’ face and grabbing his chin so he could meet his eyes. “Do you want to go to the movies with me tomorrow night?”

Charles lets out another nervous giggle. He nods slowly, a big smile spreading across his lips and making his face light up. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

Carlos can’t help the moment he leans over again and kisses Charles, softly, tenderly, before he pushes himself off him to retrieve their shoes.

They both stand up at the same time, and as Carlos leads Charles towards the door, the other man pulls his shirt to make him turn.

“Let me fix your hair.” He mumbles, running soft fingers through the thick locks of black hair, and Carlos does everything in his power to suppress a full-body shiver. Still, unable to control himself, he pulls Charles towards him with his right arm, their chests pressed tight against each other.

“If you do that again I’m not leaving this room.” He whispers against Charles’ lips, and Charles lets out a shaky laugh before leaning in to kiss him again, Carlos reciprocating by pressing Charles against the door with a thud.

“George wants his room back!” They hear Alex shout from the other side of the door, and Carlos groans again as he is forced to break away from Charles.

“Mierda.” He curses.

Charles lets out another laugh as he turns around between Carlos’ arms and opens the door, the picture of innocence and decorum.

Until the light hits his face and his lips look bitten-red and a little sore.

#THIS IS EVERYTHING!!!#PLAYFUL CONSENSUAL WANTED!!!!#no matter the universe this two idiots are drawn to each other like magnets #vic eres increíble y me has alegrado el día #depression cured #the world is healing #mm: bleeding love #mm: written truth

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