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#carlos sainz jr imagines

juleswrites223 · 1 month

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⊹ More than friends? ⊹

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader

Context: Fans begin to notice how much Carlos spends his time with a certain girl which lead them to believe they may be more than friends.

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yourusername

yourusername back to work💪

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y/n_loversz MOTHER IS POSTING AGAIN

landonorris can I come visit?

yourusername no.

carlossainz55 pls design our fireproofs 🙏🙏

charlesleclerc ^^^^

yourusername let’s see 👀

lovingwags ❤️❤️

Yn-fan mother is for the girls only✋

User still find it so weird that she spent the break w Carlos AND his family

F1_goss girl what’s weird about it? She’s his friend and Lando was also there

carlossainz55

carlossainz55 my teaching paid off, she finally got a hole in one

Tagged: yourusername

Liked by yourusername, landonorris, carlossainzofficial and 2,34,156 others

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carlossainzofficial vamos!!

reyesvdec ❤️❤️

landonorris you taught me too but how am I worse than her

yourusername skill issue 🤷‍♀️

carlossainz55 that’s all you muppet

landonorris mean, both of you

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heliads · 10 months

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i don't want to keep secrets just to keep you

Ever since you were a kid, your older brother Charles Leclerc has made you promise that you'd never date one of his teammates. Carlos Sainz, however, may be a fiercer test of your willpower than any of you imagined.

masterlist

Charles Leclerc is going to be late to the first race of the season, and it’s so his fault. He’s usually so distracted in trying to make sure that you’re going to be on time that he forgets to check in with himself. That’s why you’re currently watching him scramble around the hotel room, desperately shoving stuff in his pockets and trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

“It’s only Bahrain,” you tease him, “how are you this behind already?”

Charles shoots you an infuriated glare, halfway through trying to tug both shoes on at once. “I’m sure this is your fault somehow.”

You roll your eyes. “I trust you to find a reason for that to make sense.”

You’re not fazed by his irritation. Charles is your elder brother of exactly one year, two months, and three weeks, which is, in his decided opinion, more than enough to give him an advantage over you in age and responsibility. Charles has taken it upon himself to watch out for you and Arthur in every way possible, including when either of you visit him at the racetrack.

However, Charles really only has enough room in his brain to worry about one person. In micromanaging you, he’s forgotten to get himself ready in time, thus causing the chaos before you now. You’re not the one to stress this morning, as you won’t be shooting around a track at ungodly speeds, so it’s well within your rights to sit back and laugh as Charles trips over himself in an attempt to still make it to the paddock on time.

First race and he’s already behind schedule. If only he could use some of that nervous energy to actually be on time the first attempt. He’ll still make it to the race with enough time to spare, but you wouldn’t know that from the way Charles is buzzing behind the wheel, tapping his fingers and mumbling swears whenever the cars in front of him dare to dip below the speed limit.

Eventually, you find yourself in the Ferrari section of the paddock, guided to Charles’ assigned room so he can drop off a bag and grab whatever he needs before heading out again. He adjusts his shirt collar in the mirror, fixing his hair much to your joking derision, and finally declares himself ready to go.

At last, Charles turns to you in the depths of the Ferrari complex, placing his hands on your shoulders like a sports coach about to deliver some life-changing advice. “Y/N, before we go out there, I need you to remember a promise. You swore this to me years ago and I need your word that it isn’t going to change.”

You groan loudly. “Charles, I thought you’d forgotten about that.”

Charles temporarily breaks his stress grip on your shoulders to swat you on the bicep with his right hand. “Absolutely not, are you mad? I want you to promise again. I need to hear it.”

You stare at him. He stares back. “You’re insane,” you tell him.

“Say it,” he replies.

Unfortunately, you kind of knew this was coming. Charles made you promise something like this for the first time back when he was still getting the hang of karting. You’d done something silly like hold hands with one of his friends from his karting team when you were a kid and Charles had flown off the handle. That’s when he’d first come up with the teammate pledge. If you wanted to be there at the race, you had to swear you’d never go out with any of his driving partners, past or present.

It’s a promise he’d made you continually repeat all throughout Formulas Three and Two, but it’s been a while since you were able to make it to a race due to various life interferences, so you thought he’d forgotten about it or something. It appears that’s far from the case, though. Leave it to Charles to remember something like this.

When it becomes increasingly apparent that neither of you will be going anywhere unless you say the words Charles is yearning to hear, you sigh and give in. “Fine. I solemnly swear that I’m not going to date any of your teammates. I won’t even look at them. I’ll run the second anyone with a Ferrari shirt enters the room.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “Be serious.”

“I am serious!” You protest. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m not going to seduce any of your coworkers.”

Charles gives you a pronounced glare. “I’m quoting you on that.”

Your brother looks as if he’d like nothing more than to lecture you for a little longer on the importance of keeping this promise, but luckily, you’re saved by someone rapping on the door. Charles gives you a cautionary look before calling to the visitor that they can come in.

And what a visitor it is. All thoughts of the previous dispute are erased from your head in a matter of moments. Seeing as you’ve been away from the races for so long, you’ve never gotten a chance to actually meet Charles’ teammate at Ferrari. You’ve seen photos, of course, and certainly stared at them for longer than Charles would approve of, if he ever knew, but something about Carlos Sainz is even better in person.

He peers inside the room and a smile instantly crosses his face at the sight of you. “You must be Charles’ sister, Y/N. I’ve wanted to meet you for a while.”

You grin back at him without even thinking of it. “It was the same with me. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Carlos reaches out to shake your hand, and it might just be your imagination, but you swear he holds it perhaps a little longer than he would Arthur’s or Enzo’s. “Only good things, I hope. If not, I hope to convince you otherwise.”

Charles coughs pointedly from beside the two of you, causing Carlos to drop your hand in a flash. “Are you here for a reason, mate, other than to talk to my sister?”

Carlos nods a little too quickly. “Yes, yes. You’re late, cabrón. PR’s been tearing hospitality apart looking for you. We were supposed to head out twenty minutes ago.”

Charles swears under his breath. “You should have told me that at the start, you asshole. Save whatever that was for later, we have to get out there.”

Charles exasperatedly rushes to the table behind him to grab his phone and a fresh Ferrari cap out of his bag. While he’s distracted, Carlos winks at you, whispering something about how he hadn’t minded the delay. Charles can’t hear it, but he must be able to tell from the expression on your face that something is happening.

“Out of my room,” Charles tells Carlos, “we need to get going. Y/N, you remember how to get to hospitality, right? You can meet up with Arthur and the others.”

You nod and he heads to the door, his teammate already shepherded out into the hall by the sheer force of Charles’ indignant stress. Your brother doubles back a moment later, leaning back into the room to give you one last vexed look.

“You promised,” Charles urges you, raising his finger in warning before hurrying out at last.

You’ve never had a problem keeping the teammate promise before. That being said, you think you might have to fight to maintain your word a little harder than you had before. Carlos is– well, his eyes, his hair, the way that red shirt looks against his skin–

Promises!

You’ll never make one again. Silently, you send up a prayer to anyone inclined to listen. You really don’t want to disappoint your brother, but you might need all the moral strength you can get.

You dutifully make your way to Ferrari hospitality as told, and you make it approximately six minutes through listening to your brother’s friends talk about the strategy and the track and the tire compounds before you cave and ask them what you really want to know. And what about his teammate? What’s Carlos like?

They’re not as paranoid as Charles, so they don’t suspect you. You listen carefully, quietly, to how Carlos has really been improving as of late, how he’s been nothing but a gentleman to all of them, what they wouldn’t give to see him more often than just around the paddock.

In short, it’s everything you’d want to hear. When the lights go out and the cars start streaking around the first corner, you realize that the red flash of engine and machinery you’re watching isn’t your brother, but Carlos instead. And, when the Spaniard ends up on the podium, your heart leaps as if it was someone you had known all your life up there, laughing and shouting and spraying champagne.

He still smells sweet when he visits you later. Carlos should know better. So should you. You smile and congratulate him and he thanks you, says that he knew you were watching the whole time and that’s why the race went so well. He waits until your smile is so warm that you could hardly speak and then he asks you to get a drink or two with him later. Just to talk, you know. Unless, of course, you wanted more.

More is exactly what you want with Carlos, but you’re still here in this room with him because you’re here to cheer on your brother, and your brother is the one who’ll be watching you like a hawk until the end of the night. Alright, Carlos says when you admit this to him, You know, I didn’t take you for someone who just wanted to follow the rules.

He’s going to get you killed. You’re delighted with every bit of him. You tell him as much when you give him your phone number. Carlos grins, presses a kiss to your forehead, and tells you when and where he’ll pick you up. You can still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin even after he leaves, even after your brother takes his place and starts rambling about every lap. You don’t hear a word. All you can think about is the new contact in your phone, the one who texts you as you’re leaving the building:

You looked beautiful today, by the way. In case I forgot to tell you.

So you do have a death wish, then. So does he. You text Carlos all throughout that night and the next, making sure that you are able to tell him how imperative that this remains secret from Charles even as you fall endlessly through compliments and charm and glory.

You meet up with him relatively soon afterwards, even though to you, it feels like centuries have passed since that first meeting. You are absolutely terrified walking to meet him for the first time, certain that it won’t be half of what you imagined. There is a moment of fear, and then you round the corner and he’s there, holding out flowers for you, and the burden of Atlas himself falls from your shoulders.

And– it’s good. Fuck, it’s good. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if it wasn’t, but this is something unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You want to call it love from the first date alone, but you manage to wait a little longer, pushing off the declaration until a few weeks have gone by and he’s kissing you in the shadows of buildings, always running the razor-fine line of being adventurous and getting caught.

This, you decide, one room down from your brother, Carlos’ hands on your waist, is why you would break the rules. It is all worth stealing; every word, every touch, every moment. You never want it to stop, which of course, means that it must.

You have three glorious months before your golden paradise comes crashing down around you. As time goes on, the two of you feel more and more certain that you won’t get caught. How could you, after all? How could Charles possibly guess? You sneak out of hospitality to meet with Carlos, and he laughs and calls you his little rebel, and everything makes sense in a way it never has before. You trust him to keep you out of trouble even as you drag him further into it. There is no way you could possibly be seen.

And then, when you’re in Carlos’ room and he’s kissing you to say hello and I missed you and you look lovely today, just as always, the door opens. You thought it was locked. You might not even have checked.

It is enough, though. Enough that your brother would be able to walk in and see. Enough that you would feel a terrible fear run like ice water through your veins. Enough for you to know that there would be no chance that he’d let this happen, that Charles would do anything but hate you forever for this.

The look on your brother’s face alone convinces you of that. You’ve had arguments before, in the past, both of you doing things to mess with each other, but never in your life have you ever seen Charles as angry as he is right now. Fury does not even come close to the war radiating from his eyes.

Carlos puts his hands up, tries to step in front of you to deflect some of the blame. “Charles, look, this is my fault. I–”

Charles cuts him off. Carlos usually doesn’t back down to anyone, but you think a raging bull would step aside if Charles was in his path right now. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Y/N, I asked one thing of you. What is this?”

You feel like your heart has stopped beating. A thousand thoughts whir in your head, excuses, pleas for forgiveness, apologies, but nothing comes out. Charles lunges forward, grabbing your arm, pulling you out of the room. Carlos tries to stop the two of you from leaving, but Charles looks him dead in the eyes and tells Carlos he’ll move if he knows what’s good for him. You nod once, mumble that it’s okay, and Carlos steps away at last, watching with a haunted stare as you disappear down the hall.

Charles slams the door of his driver’s room closed behind you. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, breathing heavy as he tries and fails to get himself under control. “I made you promise this a hundred times, Y/N. Don’t date my fucking teammates.”

You’ve never been scared of your brother, but today– Today, you are. You shrink away from him, trying to think of anything to say to make this end. “I’m sorry, Charles. So, so sorry.”

“You’re not,” Charles spits. “If you were, you never would have done this in the first place. I want so little from you, and you can’t even do this?”

Hot tears threaten to choke you out, but when you finally manage to get your breath back, the sadness starts to creep away, replaced instead by embittered fury. Who is he to speak to you like this? No brother should treat his family with the hatred he throws at you now.

“You never should have asked me that in the first place. I can do what I want, I’m an adult.”

Charles scoffs. “You’re not acting like one right now. There are so many other men in the world, but no, you had to go behind my back like this. You’ll stay away from him, you understand?”

You feel like screaming. “Stop trying to police what I do! You can’t tell me what to do with my life, you’re not my father!”

“I know!” Charles says, furious, “I know, none of us are. He’s not here anymore, it’s just me trying to look out for you and you won’t even let me do that. Every time I try to do something, you find a way to get around it. God, you make knowing you so damned difficult.”

The room becomes icily silent. Charles’ eyes are wide and scared. You don’t think he meant to say that, but he did, and there is no going back from it now.

“Alright, then,” you reply as calmly as you can, “I’ll fix that for you, then. You don’t have to handle me anymore.”

Charles sucks in a breath. “Wait, Y/N–”

You don’t let him finish, already to the door before he can even complete the last syllable of your name. It slams behind you, making you flinch. You don’t know what you’d say if you saw him again, but you still walk slowly to the elevator, then wait five minutes by the button, just in case he comes after you. He doesn’t. The hall is dark and cold, just like the streets outside when you finally gather up the last pitiful scraps of your pride and leave.

You don’t go to any more races after that. You stay at home and go about your normal business and pretend that nothing is the matter even though everything is. You don’t answer when Charles texts you later, or when he calls, or when the attempts to reach you eventually fall away to nothingness. Carlos tries to contact you as well, but you doubt he wants to stay with you after that explosion with Charles, so you do him a favor and ignore him too.

He’ll thank you for it later, maybe, if he even remembers you at all. Formula One drivers are a big deal around the world. You wouldn’t be surprised if Carlos forgets you over a supermodel or twelve, even if it would stab you through the heart to see a paparazzi photo of him with any other girl.

You don’t talk to anyone, actually, no one except your friends, and they know enough to not ask a single question. You don’t see any of your family, certain that they’d be on Charles’ side. You don’t want any more lectures, so it’s easier to just pretend like it’s just you against the world. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. You have been known to lie before.

You last a few months before your facade starts to crack. No matter how well luck runs in your favor, how many new friends you make, nothing compares to what you’d had before. You find yourself staying up at night just waiting for a call so you can ignore it, or wake from a dream in which someone was there, talking to you, when you’d never dare so much as look at them now.

It’s not enough. Of course it isn’t. You had everything you could have possibly wanted— boyfriend and brother, both Ferrari drivers, your family happy that you were showing up to more races and the love of your life thrilled to see you each and every time— so how could none of that ever be enough? It never will be. You could spend a thousand lifetimes in this terrible empty resolution and still not be satisfied, not when you remember how you used to have it all not so long ago.

You’re not sure how long you could have lasted like this. Perhaps you could have stuck to it forever, a grudge grown inside you like the roots of an evergreen, but it would have choked you out before long. Something intervenes, though. Someone, to be specific. Someone like your other brother, the younger one.

Arthur calls you. Frames it under the guise of wanting advice for an upcoming trip, but he finds a way to sneak discussion of Charles in there when your guard is down. He says Charles regrets it. You don’t believe him until an envelope shows up on your doorstep four days later containing plane tickets to the city of the next Formula One race. Addressed from your estranged brother. Including a note that says, Sorry. And, C.L.

Nothing more. The paper practically tears from the weight of you folding it and unfolding it in your hands. It seems to have aged centuries by the time you get off of the plane, stepping down in foreign territory both in terms of the new stamp you’ll get to add to your passport and the uneasy feeling resting in your chest when Charles texts you the number of the hotel room he bought you and his as well. Just in case, you know, you maybe wanted to talk.

You take the flight and you go to the hotel and you bring all of your suitcases and misguided hopes to sit along with you. It’s dark out when you finally manage to get up the courage to lock your door and go to Charles’ room instead. He gets back from media duties around this time, you’re sure he would be there if you just knocked. If you just tried.

The problem is how to make it last. You stand in front of his door, shaking, and then you raise your hand and rap once against the wood. It’s quiet enough that you could leave if he didn’t hear you, having done your job of attempting to reach him.

Charles hears you, though. The unhappy thought occurs to you that he’s probably been waiting for this and dreading it just as much as you. Your knuckles have barely left the smooth surface of the door before you hear the sound of footsteps on carpet, and then he’s undoing the latch and your brother is there again.

You hover for a moment, not sure what to do. Is he mad still? Couldn’t be, if he went to the expense of flying you out here. Does he expect you to apologize?

Instead of anything like that, Charles surges forward, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He hasn’t hugged you like this in a while, even before the fight. It’s like you’re kids again, and Charles has just won a karting round and he’s still small enough that having his sister there isn’t an embarrassment but a source of pride.

Something hot spikes through your throat, but you swallow it back and hug him, too. This is your brother. Even after a fight, he’s your family. The two of you have been trying your hardest to forget that, but he is.

Charles disengages himself soon enough to gesture you into the room. You take a careful seat on one of the available chairs and Charles sinks down onto a sofa, head propped up on hands on knees.

“I’m not sorry,” you blurt out. It’s stupid, you probably should have at least said something to clear the air before starting with that, but you want him to know what he’s getting himself into.

Even weeks after the incident, when the anger burned off and you just felt sad and alone, you still never felt regret for dating Carlos. You loved him. Still do, actually. You would have done it all over again if given the chance. If your temporary surrender with Charles is based on the lie that you’ll repent for having the audacity to fall in love, it would never last long anyway. Better to get it over with now.

Charles chuckles. “Yes, I had guessed that. Joris told me I was being stupid.”

You snort in disbelief before you can stop yourself. “You told Joris?”

Charles shrugs wildly. “Who else was I supposed to complain to, Carlos? Both Arthur and Enzo told me it was my fault and I wanted someone to agree with me.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Maybe you should have taken that as a sign that I was right and you weren’t.”

Charles groans, but he’s not mad. Not anymore. Neither of you are, actually. “Well, that’s why you’re here, obviously. I was– I was stupid. I can’t control you. You’re not a kid anymore. Just, Y/N– Carlos?”

He says the last part in a desperate plea, practically beseeching you to come to your senses. You laugh, unable to stay serious when Charles looks so horrified. “Let me live, Charles. He was worth it.”

“I assumed,” Charles says darkly, then, “Does this mean I get to date one of your friends? If you say no, you are a hypocrite.”

You roll your eyes. “They wouldn’t want you. I’ve warned them off of drivers.”

Charles protests that, but weakly. The two of you are giggling like nothing had happened, which, although infinitely preferable to fighting, confuses you more than anything. Is this it, then? Is the fight over? So many months of separation, and it’s done without hardly even being debated?

You eye your brother cautiously once his laughter subsides. “You’re really okay with it, then? I mean, you were so mad when you found out.”

Charles winces at the memory. “I was caught by surprise. I was angry, yes, but it shouldn’t have been that much. I knew I fucked up when you left. I told myself that it was more important that you come back.”

It’s what you had felt as well. After your father died– well, there are only so many of us. You learn that family is worth more than argument. Charles has been quick to forgive ever since then. It is easy to be lonely when you are far from home and there is nobody left who knows you.

You nod, accepting this. If Charles has made his peace, then– well, you would be lying if you said you had come to this race just to see your brother. “And– Carlos, is he–”

“I don’t know,” Charles answers evenly. “I haven’t seen a lot of him. I have no idea if he is angry or unhappy or anything. We’re nice on camera because PR makes us, but we’ve avoided each other a lot.”

Your face must betray your apprehension, because Charles waves a hand at you. “Don’t worry about it, though. I’m sure he still thinks you’re sweet. He did tell me off for a long time when you left. He would not have done that if it was nothing. If you want to see him again, I am sure he would be okay with it.”

You laugh bitterly. “It’s been months, Charles. I don’t know if he even wants to look at me anymore, let alone date me again.”

Charles shakes his head. “What do you lose by going? Besides, now that I am invested in it, I want this to pay off. I did not spend money for your flight over here just for you to get ghosted.”

You toss a pillow at his head. Charles deflects it with ease and points towards his door. “He is out there, target him and not me! Now go already, I want to stop moping around. Maman says it is terrible for the constitution.”

You laugh and head for the door, pausing slightly over the threshold when you realize that you actually have no idea where Carlos is at all. You could, of course, just wait until the next day when you can see him at Ferrari hospitality, but you do not want to waste another moment when you’ve already gone so long without him.

A voice over your shoulder quells your worrying. “He’s in room 519.”

You shoot Charles a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, and you’re off, barely stopping long enough to close the door behind you before hurrying down the corridor once more.

You’re already on the fifth floor, which makes sense; Ferrari puts their drivers somewhat close to each other so they can help each other back if they’ve gotten a little too hammered after a long night out. You take two turns and then you’re there, 519. The end of the line. Your own personal fate.

You thought you would be more afraid to face Charles than Carlos, but for some reason now you feel as if you can hardly move at all. You have to force your hand to form a fist and rap against the wood, but your heart is hammering in your chest all the while.

For a brief, terrible moment, you entertain the notion that Carlos will not come to the door but someone else, a woman perhaps, halfway undressed or something horrendous like that. Instead, it’s him, just him, and you feel like your heart might burst out of your chest.

Carlos looks at you, dark eyes wide. He hasn’t seen you since the fight, and you were so afraid of everything that you didn’t respond to a single message or call. Still, you are standing in front of him now, so surely that must count for something.

“I forgave him,” you say, voice echoing in the stillness between you, “Charles.”

Carlos lets out this slow breath, and you’re debating whether it’s laced with disappointment or indifference or maybe something else, something better, the thoughts racing through your head at record time right up until he kisses you. And then– well, then you don’t have to worry anymore. You know. You know everything.

“I was waiting,” he murmurs against the top of your head, unwilling to pull away more than a centimeter or two even for a lack of breath, “I thought you might have thought we weren’t worth the risk.”

You shake your head indignantly. “No, never. I was scared, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

Carlos leans away just slightly, enough that you can see the playful smile on his face as he traces the curve of your cheekbone. “My little rulebreaker, scared? Couldn’t be.”

You laugh, let him pull you into his room and shut the door. No one in the world needs to know the thousand ways you make it up to each other, how you make a new promise to him as a crescent moon snakes further up the sky: you will never let a single thing get in between the two of you again. The stars soften, dawn colors the morning sky, and you, you have happiness beyond compare.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

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amoosarte · 8 days

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𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐃 𝐘 𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐑, 𝐂.𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐙 𝐉𝐑

SUMMARY ! in which Carlos and his wife enjoy their little life in spain with their children but are somewhat a cute family dynamic !

FACECLAIM ! julia.hatchh, TROPE ! long lasting love !

It was no secret that Carlos Sainz Jr. wanted a family of his own. Growing up in a household that held so much love was all he ever wanted in the future. He and his sister were showered with love since well..forever.

Carlos thought of it all the time while holding his wife in his arms every night, in his eyes it would be a long night for him but he wouldn't nag about it. Carlos was a sincere man, he would shush his wife to sleep when she was overstress and tired, massage her hair to caress her to sleep, then hold her while looking at her delicate body.

Carlos would study the women that had catched his heart with just a look. Those brown doe eyes just looking at her like she was the moon, he was looking at her in a way a woman dreamed of. He was utterly in love with her, wishing to be by her side forevermore.

Lana was a woman that was soft spoken, a woman that would praise him for right about everything. She would shower him with love when feeling low. She was his best friend, a woman he could never get tired of.

When the topic of children rose in conversation, Lana became shy. She had admitted she did want a family with Carlos and said it was always a thought in her head. She dreamed of them having his eyes and his way loving. It had almost brought him to tears, twirling her around in excitement.

With that, they were blessed with a baby boy. His name soonly becoming Lorenzo Sainz, most of his uncles calling him 'Enzo'. A boy that look exactly like his mamita, but having his papitos eyes. He was and adored toddler until simply two years later he had his baby sister.

Carolina Sainz was her father's carbon copy with her mamitas eyes, and she was a daddy's girl. Becoming the princess of the Sainz family, with everyone adoring her.

Carlos decided that this would be enough for him, becoming traumatize with his wife pregnancy. Lana would admit both of them were harsh pregnancies but she didn't want to let her husband down.

Now they were a simple family living in spain, somewhere near a part of the ocean. In hacienda spanish style home, where both children live their childhood dreams.

"Caro, linda, estás listo para ir a ver a papi?" Lana said while making her son look presentable. Lorenzo just looked at his mother while she called out for her four year old daughter. "Si mami, me miro bonita?"

Although she looked like her father, she had a bit of her mother witty personality. "Preciosa." Lana smiled at the girl, sitting her down on the bathroom counter. Her silky brown hair were tied into pigtails, making her look absolutely stunning. "yo tambien?" her little boy said.

"guapo." She said before kissing them on their cheeks, staining their brown skin with a lipstick stain. "Listos para mirar ver a papá en su auto de carreras?" Lana smiled sweetly at them, watching them nod furiously.

They left the house on time, driving to see Carlos drive. It was somewhat special since it was a home race but if Carlos was being honest, it was Carolina's first time watching him race in person.

Trust that he told every soul in the paddock, and they loved seeing the spanish driver all excited. Though he wished it was under a better situation, Ferrari didn't extend his contract and he somewhat he needed to focus on landing on the podium.

"Well aren't you excited!" A very well known english accent rand from behind him. "You have no idea." Carlos smiled sincerely at Lando, making the younger boy laugh. "Is our princess coming for the first time today?" Lando was not going to express it but he loved the kids to an extent.

"Yes, and I must land on the podium to celebrate it." Carlos said half serious and half jokingly. Lando rolled his eyes playfully the wishing him luck.

Carlos had entered the Ferrari garage before a squeak called out to him. “Papi!” There she was the golden girl of Ferrari.

"Caro!" Carlos immediately crouch down to embrace his little girl, a large grin spreading like wildfire across his lips. "Papi! Papi! estoy de igualitas con mami!" Carolina let go of him and jumped before spinning around. "Si? Donde esta mami preciosa?" Carlos asked and right on que, Lana walked right in.

She was wearing white sundress with her red ballerina flats, looks gorgeous in his eyes. Then his eyes drifted to his son, cuddled in his mother's arms. Carlos sighed before listing his little girl up into his arms. "Todo bien amor?" Lana asked him, earning a smile from him.

"Se puso mucho mejor desde que te vi entrar.." Carlos kissed while she let out a small laugh. Carlos then felt a small hand push him off his wife, right beside him was his son looking quite annoyed. "¿No te dije que tu mamá no puede te cargar por tanto tiempo?" Carlos told his son who just stuck his tongue out.

"Papi, es tio cha!" Carolina squealed and ran to one of her uncles, who gladly picked her up. "Tioo cha!" Enzo jumped out of his others arms and ran towards his uncle. While the kids were occupied by their uncle and knowing colleagues, Carlos dragged his wife to his arms who gladly embraced him.

"Todo bien amor?" Lana asked yet again but in her soft honey voice, making Carlos melt almost immediately. "Solo estoy nervioso." He mumbled into her ginger hair, she then let go of him and walked towards Charles. "Can you watched them for a minute Charles?" She asked him, making him nod and go towards Alex to introduce the kids to her.

"Amor, no tienes por qué estar nervioso, eres un gran piloto, eres el mejor." Lana cupped his face after entering his driver room, making him relax a bit in her arms. She smiled softly analyzing every adoring feature on him, of course she saw bits of children in him and that made her happy. Carlos would say the exact same thing, he could only be so greatful.

"Dale gana, pero no olvides que te amamos." With that she kissed him on his nose. Carlos had laughed just a bit before lunging in to kiss her properly.

With his wife and kids encouragement, Carlos came out on 2rd, proudly standing at his home podium. With Carolina and Lorenzo screaming happily for their papa. Not missing how they ran towards him after his podium, knocking him to the ground.

What a cute family.

MENTIONS ! @landitolover, @moneygramhaas, @d6za1, @ch3rryknots @louvrepool @thearchieves

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉, ⟢ more!

#୧⋆｡🕯my stories!!#carlos sainz jr imagines #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #ferrari #married life #long lasting love!!#carlos sainz jr fluff #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles lecrelc x reader #papa carlos sainz jr au!!#lando norris #lando fluff #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr blurbcarlos sainz

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macybeckham7 · 8 months

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grill the grid where the guess the baby picture and everyone giggle and gush how cute y/n was. Pigtails, cute smile, in the most cutest dress and ribbons, looking so innocent.

They all turn the page over with a photo of the cutest little girl, she had two pigtails with colourful ribbons tying them up, a cute smile with gaps in teeth, and little checkered sundress. She looked shy and almost innocent, which made a lot of the drivers laugh and gush over how adore the little one was. ‘Aw she is adorable’ Max laughs. ‘That’s got to be Yn’ he says looking at the camera. ‘She hasn’t changed’ Lewis admits as he stares at the photo. They all took a moment to take in the photo, at the little girl who beamed from the page. Charles was happy that he managed to get this one as he said that you haven’t changed, and he often sees you pulling that expression. Carlos joking that this was taking just last week and then saying how he just wants to squeeze your little cheeks. Then you appeared, your face reddens at the photo, you quickly grabbing the page and turning it over, not wanting to give the younger you any more attention. ‘I look horrible, moving on’ you say, but everyone else definitely doesn’t agree with you.

#max verstappen imagines #carlos sainz jr imagines #lewis hamilton imagines #charles leclerc imagine

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sainzluv · 1 year

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" you're so pretty, it hurts. "

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x reader

summary: carlos is laying on his head-- his eyes shut as he let's out small snores, but you just lay there, taking in his beauty and reminiscing all the special moments you've both shared with eachother.

a/n: very short?? but worth it ig. hope you enjoy the read. NOT PROOFREAD BTW

you were mesmerized by carlos' beauty. how could someone be so pretty?, you'd wonder each time you saw him, you'd wonder how you could bag such a hansome man-- not to mention, a handsome man that competes in formula 1. you were only just a journalist who lost her way around, but then he, he helped you. you remember how he was so respectful, so gentle, and so damn sweet. he talked to you in such a fragile voice as if you'd break if he talked any louder, in such a venomous sweet voice. you think you fell inlove with him right then and there. you remember how he was nervously fumbling with his hands while asking for your number, he tried his best to not stutter, but he still did, not that you mind it though, you find it quite cute. and now here you are, with carlos laying his head on your chest and letting out slow snores that sent vibrations among your body, while you massaged his scalp, taking in his mesmerizing features. his doe-shaped eyes, plump lips that were coated with your lip balm that he attempted to steal, fluffy hair that you definitely need the routine of, his built biceps that hugged your sides, oh and whatnot. everything about him made him look godly. and what made him even more godly, was his behavior around you. he is so respectful of your boundaries, has the best humour, so fucking gentle, teasing and caring in just the right ratio that makes your mouth water. you remember he invited you over to his house for the first date, you remember it as clear as day-- when he almost accidentally burnt his kitchen down in an attempt to make gourmet spaghetti for you, he was still learning, but he tried, and that's what matters. you remember how even you were struggling to make the spaghetti but after a few youtube tutorials, you both were almost michelin star chefs. you remember how reluctant you were about revealing your relationship with carlos to the public, he didn't push you, but managed to make you feel reassured of the fact that everyone will love you, and if they don't, that's their problem, and he'd protect you from each and every threat. you were surprised at everyone's reaction when they learned about you and carlos-- some fans even predicted you both together? were you both that obvious? but either way, you're happy with the things turned out. you think you can find yourself falling for carlos in each lifetime.

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz jr imagines #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz jr fluff #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz drabble #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 fluff #f1 fluff

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ilyasorokinn · 1 year

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my lover ― carlos sainz

note, this is my first f1 piece, so what better way to join the f1 community on here than to write about my bestie bf mr. smooth operator. anyways, i'm mixing my two loves, taylor swift and f1 together for this. also, i made my first twitter edit and i had fun, so expect more coming soon. another note, i haven't been to the eras tour yet (seeing ms. swift in august :)), so this might be inaccurate. i don't want to watch videos because i see tons of tiktok and i want to least be a little surprised, so this is how i imagine it going :) summary, carlos and y/n go to a taylor swift concert where he has some tricks up his sleeve. warnings, mentions of sc**ter br*un (*barf emoji) word count, 643 words (a shorty but a goodie)

with races happening so frequently, you were worried you wouldn't be able to see taylor swift, but carlos made time. he cleared his schedule for 48 hours so you two could enjoy yourselves.

"carlos," you passed, your eyes widening as you took in the stage you had only seen in pictures.

carlos couldn't help but smile as he watched you take everything in. you had worked hard to get the tickets for the show and he was just happy to tag along and be your photographer and videographer for the night.

you were wearing a replica of one of her outfits while carlos wore a basic black shirt with a scooter on it but it was crossed out. when you first showed him, he was confused.

"why don't we like scooters?" he asked. you laughed and explained the story of scooter.

"carlos sainz?" you heard a couple of fans gasp as they noticed who was sitting next to them.

carlos smiled, giving them his full attention as she talked to him, then posed for pictures, "hey, can i ask you for a favor?" he stopped them before they went back to their conversation.

"of course!" the girls were freaking out. carlos sainz was talking to them!

"during lover," they knew automatically what his question was and they both melted, "i was planning on proposing to y/n." he whispered, glancing back at you, but you were already deep in conversation with the girls next to you and trading your friendship bracelets.

"do you think you could record it?"

"of course! oh, my gosh!" they gasped and carlos chuckled, "early congratulations."

"well, she hasn't said yes yet." he scratched the back of his neck.

"she will." the girl nodded.

carlos thanked them again before turning back to you. your arms were now covered in beaded friendship bracelets and he was confused about how it had happened.

"how did that happen?'

"well, i'm just very popular i guess." you shrugged, "look, this one's my favorite." you showed him your favorite one.

"beautiful, amor." he beamed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing your head.

as the clock ticked down, you had gravitated from your seat up into a standing position. once the clock was at 0, you were screaming with everyone else.

lover was the first album of the songs she sang in the setlist, so the girls sitting next to you were ready to record the second lover started.

carlos could feel his heartbeat begin to pick up as the first notes of lover started. he felt around his pocket for the ring box and let out a breath when he found it.

"you okay?" you asked, glancing from him then back to the stage, afraid to miss anything.

"yeah." he nodded, swallowing hard for a second before looking you in the eyes, "i love you."

"i love you, too." you smiled.

"and i don't want to say much because this love explains everything i feel for you. i would love to do life with you and i hope you say "yes" to the question i'm about to ask." he pulled the ring out of pocket and the girls filming squealed, garnering the attention of everyone around you and they all whipped out this phones and squealed.

"will you marry me?" he asked, bending down and opening the box.

you covered your mouth in shock as your brain tried to catch up to what was going on in front of you, "carlos, oh, my god, yes! of course!" you bent down and cupped his face, kissing him.

everyone around your squealed, jumping up and down excitedly. he pulled away and slid the ring onto your finger, "you big romantic." you gasped, punching him jokingly in the shoulder.

"only for you." he kissed you again, hugging you as taylor continued to serenade you with music.

+ this :)

my taglist: @2manytabsopen @europeanpuck @bitchinbarzal @cinnamoncowboy @silverstonesainz @hotgirlhockey @barzysreputation

add yourself to my taglist!

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randomimaginesforrandompeople · 1 year

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So wrong | Carlos Sainz imagine

a/n: so i couldn't sleep and randomly started writing this? just want to say that i obviously do not condone any form of cheating at all, i just felt inspired to write this for some reason? also gif is not mine and i hope you enjoy x

warnings: reader and carlos are both cheating, mentions of smut, angst? idk im not good at writing angst i think but i see this as practice lol, probably bad english.

you know you shouldn't have come. you should have gone straight home, back where he was. but instead you had driven here. you had zoned out when driving and you had driven here like it was muscle memory.

it shouldn't have been a surprise, you had driven up here countless of times before. however those times were justified, those were the times he was still yours. those were the times you were allowed to drive up there to see him. you should not be here. but you couldn't pull yourself to actually start the car and get out of the driveway.

a mishap, that's what you had called it the first time you had woken up next to carlos again. you had gotten very drunk at carmen's birthday party. your boyfriend hadn't been able to make it due to work and the alcohol clouded your judgement; or so you justified.

you and carlos had history, being near him felt safe again, familiar. it had been years ago, you had been young and foolish. the two of you not ready for a real relationship, not with the commitments you both had. so you broke up and it tore you apart. but over time the pain you felt made place for peace. you had met your boyfriend and you liked him, it was all good. you heard through mutual friends that carlos also had started dating again, and you thought you had gotten over it, you really did.

but when you saw carlos that night from across the room, white button up with the two top buttons unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, drink in hand and gorgeous smile adorning his face as he talked to george and lando, you realised that you may still have some feelings bubbling under the surface.

although you swore you only had good intentions when you made your way over there to greet them. and you swore the lingering touches and held gazes were only friendly. until they weren't and he had you pressed against the bathroom sink with two of his big fingers stretching you out.

he had driven you home that night and he had made you come once already before you two had reached the bedroom, making you come like only he could. you had woken up feeling incredibly guilty, thoughts of your boyfriend flooding your mind. put when carlos had pulled you against his chest and rasped out how much he had missed this, those thoughts quickly evaporated.

you knew it was wrong. it was aching your stomach, you felt bad. your boyfriend didn't deserve this. you were well aware that you needed to end this, you were in a relationship and so was carlos. however every time you tried, you ended up between his sheets for another night.

I'm outside. you had texted him ten minutes ago but you couldn't bring yourself to get out of the car yet. you weren't ready for whatever was inside, you weren't ready to face those big brown eyes and tell carlos that this was really the last time you would see him. the porch lights went on, carlos had read your message. he was probably wondering why you didn't just come in.

the pit inside of your stomach grew heavier as you finally unbuckled your seatbelt. you let out a shaky breath that you didn't know you were holding and as you got out of the car you saw carlos waiting for you in the dooropening.

''what took you so long amor?'' you plastered on a smile "just replying to some messages." you quickly passed him, nerves growing with each step you set within the house. the tension was already thickening, you had never been good at hiding your feelings. it was actually something carlos laughed at, he thought it was cute how your face was worth more than a thousand words. when you were watching horror movies and you were looking at a particularly gory scene, you would always hear his bouldering laugh next to you and when you'd look at him, he'd kiss your scrunched up nose and tell you that you even looked cute when you were disgusted.

"I know why you're here." you tensed up. you were glad you weren't facing him, you don't think you could right now. you'd know just how he'd look, arms crossed over his chest, serious face and big eyes hard as stone. he always got stoïc when he got upset. you felt him shuffle behind you and you knew he was coming closer, your expectations proven to be right as you felt his hand softly grasp your arm, the touch sending cold shivers down your spine.

"y/n..." you turned around, you had to. it was inevitable. you had to tell him that this couldn't happen anymore. that you were staying with your boyfriend and remind him of his girlfriend. you were going to tell him, tell him how the sneaking around made you feel sick to your stomach and how it wasn't worth it. it shouldn't be worth it.

you looked up at his face and all the words you had died in your throat. you had expected him to be cold, stoïc, maybe even a little angry. but what you saw in front of you was nothing like you had thought you would see him.

he was visibly upset, his big brown eyes full of an emotion you couldn't decipher. it almost seemed like desperation? "please, I can't lose you just," he took both of your hands in his, he wasn't looking directly at you. "not again, y/n i can't lose you again." he nearly whispered.

you knew it was wrong, very wrong but how could you turn him down? not when he was vulnerable with you like this. you took a hand and gently cupped his face. "i'm not going anywhere." you saw a look of surprise flash across his face and then it turned into relieve. you felt it as he pressed his lips against you.

this wasn't just sex, maybe it never was. you could feel every ounce of feeling he poured into the kiss and you couldn't help but match it, letting yourself go to places you hadn't let yourself go before, you knew you were too far gone anyway. you weren't strong enough to end it, not now. you weren't sure if you ever would be, not when he told you he couldn't lose you and kissed you like this.

"thank you" he whispered against your lips. you knew that everything about what you were doing was wrong, but in that moment all you could focus on was the sound of his heart beating and the way he made you feel. you would deal with the rest later, now all you needed was to be with carlos.

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areaderinlove · 2 years

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kinktober

alr yall ik i have some requests that i still didn’t make but i want to participate as much as i can in kinktober even though october is going to be shit cause i have reset exams but anyways give me your request and lemme tell you ill do my best

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lindonorris · 2 years

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MASTERLIST - F1

CHARLES LECLERC

Details Playlist and Aesthetic; part 1; part 2; part 3 (not finished yet)

LANDO NORRIS

Heartbreak and Healings part 1; part 2 (not finished yet)

DANIEL RICCIARDO

Medicine oneshot (not posted yet)

Savior Angel part 1; (not posted yet)

Last Updated: september

#f1 masterlist #f1 imagines #carlos sainz jr imagines #pierre gasly imagines #lando norris imagines #max verstappen imagines #mick schumacher imagines #yuki tsunoda imagines #daniel ricciardo imagines #lewis hamilton imagines #charles leclerc imagines #esteban ocon imagines #george russell imagines #formula one imagines

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eccentricwritingbaby · 15 days

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baby finn series, house divided

dad!lando norris x mom!wife!reader

series list - bedtime stories - sneaking onto stream - babysitting and date nights

summary - yours and lando’s little boy has decided to become a fan of a different team, leading lando into a little spiral

masterlist

finn norris, yours and landos bubbly pride and joy, was turning three this sunday - subjecting his birthday to a race day. finn had obviously grown up along the track with his dad and all his colleagues and friends which led him to adore and fall in love with the sport that is formula one - scaring the living daylights out of you in his passionate displays of love for the dangerous activity at such a young age. not only was finn bouncing off the walls when lando informed him of where his birthday would be held, he was jumping, shaking and yelling with excitement as the race track was his favorite place on earth.

“finn, baby, calm down,” you chuckled while giving lando a glance. you both were sat on the couch with your son in front of you in order to tell him the wonderful news. now your adorable little almost three year old was racing around screaming with joy.

lando let out a laugh as well and reached for his son, “if you’re excited about spending your birthday on the track you’ll also be very excited about my other surprise for you,” finn looked up at his father with those same crystal blue eyes and whispered as if it was to himself, “anotha’ supwise?” lando and you share another small laugh at his wonder as he proceeds to get your son his gift. you take this moment to sweep up your still giggly son into your lap and give him a few quick kisses to the top of his head. those delicious baby laughs were all you heard as you felt his face snuggle further into your arms. lando returns as swiftly as he left, yet this time he appears with a large box in his arms. your boy wiggles in your hold until you release him to crawl towards his father. once settled on your husband's lap, lando begins to aid him in opening the bright papaya colored box, leading to your understanding of the exact contents in seconds. lando was always getting sent items from fans that were miniature, or receiving pint-sized merch from mclaren all for his mini me which both of you just doted over. once the wrapping paper and tissue paper were thrown enough around your living room, finn finally poked his head into the box and came out with a frown.

“you don’t like it, bud?” lando softly questions while his eyebrows begin to furrow. “‘s not wed, dada,” your son responds as he eyes his father, confusion listed on all of your faces.

“baby, why would you want your outfit to be red for your birthday? don’t you want to cheer on daddy?” you attempt to understand the little boy by posing the questions but he simply just whips his head around to you even more confused.

“i cheer dada in wed!” his eyes begin to gloss over and you can already feel a temper tantrum about to stir, yet one look over to lando and you understand that both your boys may need a minute to cool down.

“okay finn, why don’t you pick out what you want to bring on the trip? i’ll be right in to help baby,” you reply cautiously as you lift him out of lando’s arms, around the forgotten papaya box, and in the direction of his room.

“otay, momma!” finn shouts as his little legs attempt to quickly take him into his room down the hall. once the tiny steps disappear, you turn to look at your other baby.lando sits on the couch with a blank stare as his hands ring together in front of him.

“he wants to support ferrari, love. not his own father,” lando’s head falls as he speaks and you land on the couch cushion next to him, beginning to run your hand up and down his back. even though finn was born while you both were young and unsure of how to raise a child together, since you were children yourselves, lando was consistently one of the best fathers you had seen. he let the third driver take his seat for a month and a half in order to be a dedicated father and bond accordingly with your son. he doted over you and your needs no matter what the cost or occasion. and overall he cherished approval, whether it be in the bedroom, the track, or parenthood. lando is confident, yes, but he will always want the confirmation that he is doing his best, and that his best is enough - which it is always more than. therefore, you could tell that his son not wanting to support his team, and by partisan him, has led him to conclude that he is not a good racer, role model, or father - and you needed to stop those lies from invading his head.

“lando, he’s two - almost three, he probably just likes the color and wants to wear it,” you reply to his heart heavy confession.

“no he wants to support his uncle carlos, who has been winning and been on all the podiums - oh except for when he was in the hospital having a surgery,” the ending of his small reply held a bitter tone which you knew was not jealousy. lando and carlos are especially close, he is beyond happy and proud of his friend who he knows deserves his winnings, but you could understand the envy appearing when his son is preferring him over his dad.

“lando, it doesn’t matter what team he wants to support, that is your son. and he worships the ground you walk on. trust me. i am with him all the time,” you continue with a chuckle and a funnier tone as you begin to recite the words your son always speaks to you, “it’s always, ‘when’s dada coming home?’ ‘i want dada to tuck me into bed’ ‘can i drive like dada when im older’ and so on. lando, he loves you - you know that. don’t make this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. he is three, his intentions are pure,” as you end your speech, lando begins to raise his head looking into your eyes.

“i know, love. it just sucks i guess,” he lets out a quick sigh along with a shrug and meets your eyes again, “you’re still wearing papaya, right?” slight anxiety in his higher pitched question and you begin to laugh, “yes, love, i will always be in your color,” you reply as he hums and leans into your embrace, reaching down to plant a sweet kiss to your lips. just as you pull apart you can hear the quick little pitter patter of feet running down the hallway your little boy emits, trailing behind him is his bluey mini suitcase overflowing with toys and games.

“i all pack!” he squeals in excitement as he races over to you and your husband. lando drops down onto your floor, finn running right into his embrace, followed by a fit of giggles.

“let’s see what you packed, buddy,” your husband replies as he ruffles around finns baby curls. finn then claps a bit until he’s situated on the floor in front of the suitcase. he begins pulling out his items and reciting them to both of you and you respond in a chorus of “ooh’s” and “aah’s”.

race day -

as lando struts down the makeshift runway that is the entrance to the paddock, you follow behind a little further as to not draw too much attention to your little son. even though finn had grown up around the paddock, both lando and you are still not fully comfortable with the cameras and attention specifically around your son. therefore, any precaution - even the slightest - to not have him overly immersed in the media you both will take. lando is simply sporting his mclaren team gear, you in a light and well-fit sundress that lando emphasized in the morning you look ‘absolutely ravishing, my darling” and your birthday boy, well, he has arrived in a bright red ‘sainz55’ ferrari shirt as well as a bright and wide smile - something your husband couldn’t even be mad at if he tried, as your son’s smile that bright on his birthday was worth any sort of bruise to the ego. once well inside the paddock, finn begins to wiggle and squirm in your arms wanting to be let down which could only mean one thing.

“UNCLE LOS! UNCLE LOS! UNCLE LOS!” he begins to cry as you put him on the ground and he takes off towards him.

“FINN! SLOW DOWN!” your husband cries after him as he picks up a jogging pace after his overenthused son. carlos’ head whips around at the voice of his favorite little man as he begins to crouch down and brace for impact with his arms held wide. the little ball of red soon collides with his newfound favorite driver and the two begin to laugh as they hold each other. once you and lando catch up to the pair you can hear the adorable conversation at play.

“i wear wed fo’ you, uncle los!” finn sings happily while prancing around in front of carlos. the spanish driver, still crouched at your son's level, chuckles in admiration as he stares at the boy in front of him, “i think red is your color, pequeño,”

“it is! it is!” finn replies once again jumping around in full excitement.

“i also think it is somebody’s birthday,” carlos says holding a sly grin while staring at the little lando in front of him.

“ME! it’s mine!” your boy continues to jump.

“i think special birthday boys get to sit in their favorite uncles car?” carlos feigns innocence in the question as he looks at lando who holds a grin on his face. finn looks at his father for permission with a slight doe-eyed expression and lando gives him a simple nod before finn and carlos quickly disappear to the ferrari garage.

“i am very proud of you, love. you’ve got a good brave face,” you say quietly to your husband as he reaches down to pull you into a kiss.

“you know why i’m smiling, baby?” lando doesn’t wait for you to answer the rhetorical, “because we just gained a free babysitter for about an hour,” he kisses you again, this time with more urgency as he continues, dropping an octave, “and i’ve got an empty drivers room just waiting for us,” one more kiss and he’s already pulling you into the direction of the mclaren garage with you jogging quickly behind him in a fit of giggles.

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agendabymooner · 1 month

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SOMETHING VICTORIOUS !!! CS55 + CL16 + LN4 X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: the podium finishers weren’t the only thing that finished that night.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), explicit language, gangbang???, mmmf smut content, dubcon, pwp, double penetration + oral sex (m receiving), mentions of sexism/misogyny (NOT APPLIED TO DRIVERS), consensual degradation, squirting, praise kink, i did not proofread this (the race just finished two hours ago duh)

note: i have returned with a short blurb eheh enjoy xx

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

there was something vile about the way celebrations occurred for the ferrari drivers.

ferrari 1-2’s are rare, sure, so this called for celebration— a massive one even.

so if anyone ever saw how carlos and charles celebrated with their sweet girl, anyone would consider this… morbid.

for some, it was filthy. sinful, even.

but having walked into carlos sainz’s hotel room after the two scarlet drivers called it an ‘early night’, lando’s eyes couldn’t find themselves to look away when he found the woman sandwiched between the two.

both carlos and charles were spearing through her holes and carrying her like she weighed nothing, both foreheads were sweaty after fucking her the moment they’ve stepped inside the suite.

she couldn’t even find herself to talk, her body too busy being manipulated and moved around while both her holes were stuffed with their cocks.

any man could call her a whore for having not only one, but two men fuck her at once. any man could degrade her for allowing men to do this to her body while she writhed and whined about how good she felt when they stuffed her.

so, it was too bad that lando wasn’t just any man. he couldn’t even stop himself from watching unless someone killed him themselves.

the british man’s mouth was practically salivating when carlos lifted her up and sunk her down their cocks, watching her cunt produce liquids that indicated her pleasure.

lando was so busy gawking at the way her cunt throbbed around charles’ cock that he couldn’t feel anything but his own cock painfully throbbing under his trousers.

he was too busy watching that he didn’t notice the way charles and carlos glanced at him with amused smirks.

it was only when charles spoke up did he snap out of his thoughts.

“which one?” charles asked with a teasing smirk at the british man, making lando shake his thoughts away.

when he saw how lando got confused, charles repeated, “she expressed her interest in inviting you before but not once did we see how… interested you were.”

“now you’re here,” carlos laid her down on the king sized bed gently. “so which one?”

“i- uh- i-“ lando stammered, his buzzed self no longer there as every rational thoughts he had were long gone.

“hm,” charles hummed before looking at carlos who stood as well. “do you think she can handle another one?”

“yeah,” the three men looked at the woman on the bed, watching her hazy eyes glossing over the three as her mouth let out, “i want more cock in me…”

“atta girl,” lando’s eyes darkened when he saw how frail, sexy, hot and beautiful the naked woman was. he never truly saw her in a new light until lando saw how fucked out she looked.

so much for a podium celebration with the ferrari men.

anyone with two eyes could tell that this was a sight to behold: her cunt sinking down on carlos’ cock, her back hole preoccupied by charles, and her mouth full of lando.

it could be considered a renaissance painting, for she was a masterpiece waiting to be coated full of the three men who can paint her in any way they wanted her to be.

“oh fuck, baby,” lando groaned, growling as the tip of his cock reached the back of her throat. her muffled moans only added to his pleasure as her mouth vibrated around his length.

“mmf-“ she hummed around lando’s cock. her eyes glimmered. was it in joy or simply in overwhelming pleasure? both things correlate to one another.

charles thrusted inside her roughly, his hands digging to her hips. he growled lowly and nipped in her ear with a murmur of, “merde, your hole is too fucking snug, bebe. you’re so fucking good for me.”

“you like that, sì?” carlos reached up to pinch her nipples, eventually slapping her tits as she yelped around lando’s length. “hm? you like it when you have three cocks inside of you? you love being a good slut for us?”

when she was expected to give an answer, lando grabbed her hair and pulled her away from his cock. his other hand continued to stroke himself while he murmured, “c’mon baby, he wants an answer.”

she tried to utter a word, but it was only the light slap of lando’s palm that had her uttering, “yes- yes. i love your cocks so much.”

“good girl,” lando’s cock slapped against her cheek before he slid it back in her mouth, now fucking her face as the ferrari drivers behind and under her picked up their paces.

“fuck- fuck, good fucking girl,” lando praised her repeatedly, hearing her choke on him quietly as she tried to get a hold of herself.

she couldn’t. she was so… overwhelmed.

“i’m gonna fucking cum, merde,” charles hissed behind her, not even minding that his cock had gone deep inside her as he let out a groan.

“i can feel you— oh… fuck,” carlos groaned. “you are so fucking good and tight for me, bonita… you gonna cum, huh?”

she couldn’t respond, thus earning chuckles from the three men. regardless of whether or not she could, she was beginning to feel herself cum again. and again. and again.

never mind getting a podium or a race win, because the three men knew that she was the only one who deserved the victory and the celebration that occurred between the four of them.

it might be morbid for most, but god… no amount of champagne sprays can top the celebration she was having with the australian grand prix’s podium finishers.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness @bigsimperika @xoscar03

#formula one imagine #f1 smut #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut #f1 imagine #charles leclerc smut #carlos sainz jr smut #lando norris smut #cl16 #cs55 #ln4 #lando norris #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #♛ something multiplied ⎯ poly!f1 smut

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macybeckham7 · 2 months

Note

Taking care of Carlos after his surgery

‘I really don’t think you should be leaving’ you tell him. ‘Watch and support from here and rest up, there is no rush’ you say trying to be the level headed one. But there was no use he had his mind set on it. You hold his hand and help him walk out of the hospital. You would keep him up to date with his medication, and despite not enjoying this, you made sure that he was at the best comfort. You would wake up and sooth him, telling him that everything was going to be ok. His dad was too there for him, but it wasn’t him but you who could get him to see how he had to concentrate on getting better before jumping back into the car and thinking about his career.

#carlos sainz jr imagines #carlos sainz jr

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somejazzinthemorning · 8 months

Text

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! 🫶