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stateofcharles · 2 years

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baby just say yes - PG10

pairing: Pierre Gasly x female!reader

word count: ~ 4,1k

warnings: fluff, light angst, insecurity, French GP 2022

summary: 4 times Pierre jokes about marrying you + 1 time he’s serious about it

a/n: heavily inspired by Pierre’s late wedding fever, i couldn’t just sit and stare i mean- you know pierre if you wanna get married i happily volunteer. title of course from ‘love story’ by the queen taylor

2006, age 10

You and Pierre were at your house, sat on your bed, spending your time between watching old races on old CDs and eating the cookies your mum had made that morning. You didn’t love F1 as much as your best friend did but you knew that watching that made him happy, so you were willing to sacrifice your freetime if that meant seeing Pierre’s joyful face.

“Are you coming to my race next sunday?” he asked shyly suddenly while you were watching Michael Schumacher clenching his first WDC. You looked at him dismayed and his face darkened when he realised what it meant.

“Pierre-” you tried to ponder your words because you didn’t want him to feel bad, “I’d like to but my parents want me to eat with them for their wedding anniversary,” you pouted, “but I swear I don’t want to go with them.”

“Then why do you go?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Because it’s like- a special one? I don’t know why. I know it’s 25 years and it is something silver and then they want a big celebration.” you replied.

“Silver?” his face was even more confused than before.

“Yeah, and it’s a big one. There’ll be many people from my family there, even that grumpy, old aunt Albertine,” you snorted, “the one who wants me to become a ballerina.”

Pierre’s eyes widened, “The one whose shoes we filled with your dad’s shaving cream at your mum’s party?”

You started laughing so loud that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound, “Yeah! That one! I really can’t stand her!”

Pierre hummed as he tapped his knee with his finger, he was clearly thinking. “Do you think you’ll get married one day?” You stared at him wild-eyed and he blushed, the question was clearly something big. The boy just hoped his crush for you hadn’t filtered through his words and face.

“I don’t know,” you answered sheepishly, “I want to wear the white dress one day like my mom’s, but I don’t know if I will meet a boy that I like so much. Maybe I will be alone forever like my aunt Albertine.” You shrugged; in the end you were a kid and maybe that question was too huge for a 10-year-old

“Oh god, don’t say that cœur! You’re much better than your aunt! And if you won’t find anyone then I’ll marry you.” he stated and his face was painted with self-confidence.

You laughed at his sentence and the boy looked at you half-offended. “Are you laughing at me?” he said in disbelief.

You put your hand in front of your mouth, “Non Pierre, but- we’re best friends! It’s weird! You shouldn’t marry your best friend!”

He crossed his arms at his chest, “Ok then, Charles is my new best friend if you think this about me.” He was holding a grudge, but you could see that he was actually holding his laugh.

“We’ll talk about this when you’ll be back to me asking again to be my best friend after Charles will annoy you with all his talking.” you answered back sticking out your tongue. Pierre started laughing and you threw yourself at his chest to hug him.

2012, age 16

“My sister is getting married.” You snorted as you entered Pierre’s bedroom, sitting not-so-graciously on his rolling chair; it started spinning as soon as you did that, and your snorts only grew louder.

“Well hello to you too cœur, it’s nice to see you so happy.” Pierre was holding his laugh at seeing you so upset.

“I’m not in the mood today Pear, drop it.” you muttered rubbing your hands against your face. You couldn’t believe it was really happening. You believed your sister, out of all the people out there, would be the last one to decide to spend her life with just one person.

“It’s so frustrating, like- Eloise will be divorced in six months at most, it’s crystal clear she doesn’t love Bernard, even maman says that! Almost no one likes him in our family.” You crossed your arms angrily, the lump in your throat was growing bigger and bigger.

“But why does everyone hate him so much? He seems like a nice guy after all and-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before you interrupted him.

“NICE? PIERRE HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?!” you shouted, “Like- have you seen him? Have you ever been with him for a couple of hours? He’s so full of himself, he always talks about that stupid job he does, his studies and other bullshit he does. And he is extremely sexist. Did you know he said that once my sister marries him she’ll be like his personal maid, because she’s younger than him and her degree is inferior?” As you were talking, Pierre’s eyes grew wider and wider.

“Well maybe you’re right.” he scratched the back of his head, “He’s kind of a dickhead” he paused for a while, “but then why’s your sister marrying him?” he questioned.

“Who knows what’s going on inside her head” you grumbled.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “you’ll have to go to this wedding anyway, she’s your sister and you can’t miss it.”

“Ok mister, then tell me what should I do because Eloise even asked me to be one of her bridesmaids! And I have to bring someone with me as well! Could it be any worse?” You grunted, that was really a shitty situation.

“Well, bring me then.” He said nonchalantly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“You? Why should I choose you?” You asked mockingly, he had that usual grin printed on his face, a blend of cockiness and joke.

“Alright then, first I am incredibly charming - don’t interrupt me Y/N, it’s true -, second your mum loves me as a son and last but not least I am your best friend, so you won’t get annoyed listening to that dickhead’s rambling.” As he finished his speech he looked quite proud of himself, like he had just found the solution to all the problems in the world.

“Maybe I could consider it,” you hummed, “but if you’re so charming as you say you’ll be stealing all the attention of the guests, won’t you?” you teased him.

“I won’t be the only one, that’s for sure cœur.” He smiled warmly at you, “you’ll be there with me and we will be stealing all attention. We’ll be envied even by the newlyweds, we’ll be the star of the event.”

You noticeably blushed at his words, this kind of attention was weird for you to receive even after all those years of being friends with Pierre, who was a natural casanova.

“Then ok I guess,” you spoke sheepishly, “we’ll go together but one condition first: you’ll be obliged to get me out of the embarrassing conversation with my relatives, because I don’t want to put up with another interrogation from uncle Patrick and his wife.”

Pierre replied in the same ‘I-don’t-accept-a-no’ tone, “Deal, but you’ll have to go in the girls crowd when your sister will throw the bouquet.” The devilish grin on his face didn’t bode well, at all.

“Why? I mean- it’s senseless.” You hid your face in your hands, that was becoming awkward.

“I don’t know, it’s funny and you’ll be blushing the whole time.” God he was such a brat sometimes.

“I wonder why I’m still friends with you,” you murmured, “And then who will I marry if I catch it?” You teased him.

“Me, what a question cœur, I’m the perfect man, everyone would want me.” He said defiantly while he smiled.

When you started laughing he couldn’t help but do the same. Even if he was a little dumb sometimes he was still your best friend, the person you trusted the most in the whole world, and you knew he would never let you down.

2015, age 19

It was another night you spent at Pierre’s place, a normal night just hanging out with your best friend. You had just finished watching Beauty and the Beast, your favourite film, and Pierre was teasing you, as usual.

“I just can’t understand why, cœur. I mean- you’re 19! You’re almost an adult and a cartoon is your favourite film? That’s weird as hell.” He complained.

“Ok Pierre, now listen to me: it’s not a normal cartoon, it’s the cartoon. And besides there’s no way you can dislike it, it’s pure perfection. And I’m not a kid,” you sticked your tongue out, “I can be a grown-up and still like cartoons, there’s no rule that prohibits it.” You crossed your arms with a pout on your face.

“Ok cœur, but don’t be offended!” He laughed, that brat! He loved mocking you.

“Sometimes I wonder why you’re my best friend” you muttered, but he had heard you and a smirk appeared on his mouth. He looked straight into your eyes before answering.

“Do I really have to answer? Ok then, I’m beautiful, talented, funny, unique, charming, should I keep going on?” He smiled amused.

“God, you’re such a kid sometimes Pierre.” You shook your head, he was a gone case.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway and I’m your bestest of friends.” He got closer to hug you and you hid your head in the crook of his neck.

Suddenly you heard the timer ringing, “Muffins are ready Pear!” you untangled from his arms to go to the oven. You wore the kitchen gloves before opening it, then you pulled off the moulds with your creations.

“Tadaa!” You placed it on the kitchen table and slowly started positioning the pastries on the dish you had left on it. Your idea was to form a flower with the muffins, but before you could finish Pierre quickly stole one and took a bite of it. He sat on a chair and started unwrapping the muffin from his case.

“Pierre!” you shouted, “I haven't finished yet! C’mon, you always have to ruin it!” you whined, but he was half-moaning while chewing the pastry.

“Jeez Y/N, these are for real the best muffins you have ever baked!” He patted his tummy, “You truly are a woman to marry!” He leant back, relaxing on the backrest with his hands intertwined behind his head.

“Seriously Pierre? Again?” You put your hands on your waist, leaning in to be closer to him. “I thought you had learnt the lesson”

“Oh Y/N stop, it’s not time for your feminist sermon, I know that: women don’t necessarily have to get married, they can be single and happy and they don’t have to stay in the kitchen because they can do much more, I know it.” He looked at you, falsely-annoyed, but deep down he was glady you were as you were, so strong in your beliefs and not afraid of saying things out loud.

He leant towards you to place a kiss on your cheek, before coming back to sit on the chair, “Anyway I’m not joking Y/N, whoever is going to marry you is going to be very lucky, you aren’t just a fantastic chef, but you truly are a beautiful person both inside and outside as well.” He smiled sheepishly.

I wish I was that person, so much he thought, I want to be that lucky to wait for you at the end of the aisle, to see you in a white dress and to make you the love of my life.

But those thoughts were secrets, something the boy kept in the deepest corner of his heart, something he wasn’t ready to say out loud, yet. Deep inside he hoped the day would come sometime, the flame in his soul was still burning, for you and you only ever since the first day the two of you met.

2018, age 22

Half-asleep, you whined when you felt your boyfriend shifting from under you. You tried to stop him but you were still too numb to put enough strength.

“Pear” you whimpered, “come back here” you stretched out your arm to call him.

“Sorry cœur, someone’s at the door” from his voice you could sense he was still sleepy. You then heard him thank the delivery guy before shutting the door loudly.

“Mhh Pierre no, silence” you threw over your head one of the cushions but he was quick to take it off.

“Non cœur, now you have to see this” he grabbed your arm to lift you up until you were then sitting straight. You rubbed your eyes to focus on your boyfriend, who was now very awake, smiley and holding in his arms a big, large bouquet of red roses. You widened your pupils, now completely, shockingly conscious.

“What’s that Pear?” You asked, tears building up, and then realisation hit you. “OH NO I- I’m sorry P, I forgot it was today and I didn't buy you anything but I was so busy with university and then my sister-” you were rambling and Pierre suddenly started laughing. A pout showed on your face, “PIERRE DON’T LAUGH” you half-shouted.

“It’s fine cœur, no worries, and also-” a devilish grin adorned his lips, “I think what we did before was quite a gift” he pointed at his bare chest and at you only wearing panties and his oversized hoodie.You blushed, but he kept going on, “But anyway, happy second anniversary baby. 24 roses for 24 months together.” He leant in to place a kiss on your lips.

A couple of tears escaped your control and before you knew you were openly crying, whilst Pierre still had that smug smile on his face. He placed the bouquet on the table before cuddling against you, leaving a trail of kisses on your cheeks and then moving onto your neck. “Happy anniversary Pear, I am so lucky to have you with me” you murmured to him, squeezing him closer to you and hiding your head in the crook of his neck.

“Cœur really don’t worry about your present, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re still here with me” he stated, looking straight into your eyes.

You cracked a smile and you took his hands in yours, “Were you afraid I would escape?” you cupped his face, “You know that - even if I wanted - I wouldn’t be able to leave you?”

“Well you don’t know that,” he lowered his head, “what if one day you get tired of me?” You couldn’t believe what he was saying, was he really so filled with doubts? What had you done to cause him such worries?

“Pear, have I done something wrong by accident? Is there something you’re hiding from me?” You were craving for an answer but at the same time you were afraid of it. You didn’t want your anniversary day to be also your break-up day, moreover with the love of your life, the boy you had had a crush on ever since childhood - as much as you were trying to deny it at that time.

“It’s nothing cœur, but-” he mused, “sometimes I see other drivers break up with their girlfriends because they’re away for so long and something inevitably happens and-” he paused to swallow the lump in his throat, “I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t bear my routine anymore.” He lowered his head, as if he felt guilty.

“No baby, nonono, don’t ever think this again please,” you lifted his head delicately, “I would never do it Pierre, I swear, I- it was me who chose to be by your side, I knew what I was putting myself into two years ago,” some tears spilled from his eyes whilst you were trying your best to hold yours back, “I love you so much Pear, I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

You lifted yourself a bit and placed a long kiss on his forehead, “This whole distance thing is part of the package, I bought the whole ‘Pierre package’ two years ago and I don’t actually mean to bring it back.” You chuckled lightly, trying to raise the mood of the moment; that really wasn’t how you wanted to spend your anniversary, seeing Pierre that upset and demoralised.

“You’re not calling customer support then?” A little smile, good, his humour was slowly coming back.

“Nope,” you lingered on the P, “and I’m not escaping now, I’m staying here with you.” You kissed him deeply, wanting to convey to him all the affection you felt for him.

“You will escape one day though,” he stated again; you were ready to answer but he was quicker, “The day I’ll propose you’ll run for the hills.” he said like it was nothing. God, the way that boy always talked about marriage without any problem, he was going to be the death of you.

“Pear!” you flushed, hiding your face in your hands, “stop it, stop, it’s not the day.” You stuttered and he was just laughing at your face.

“Not the day? Cœur, it’s inevitable that one day it’ll happen, we’re meant to be.” The more he spoke the more embarrassed you were, trying to escape his arms that, in the meantime, were hugging you super tightly.

An idea popped out in your head; mischievously, you bit his nose and he immediately brought his hands to protect his face from you. “Y/N! What are you doing?” He shouted. You giggled and started running towards the bedroom.

“Catch me if you can, Pear!” you squealed, acting like a baby but, deep down, it was another attempt to cheer him up. Apparently it was working, because he shook his head before talking back, “Oh cœur, you don’t know what I’ll do to you when I’ll catch you.” He smiled devilishly before starting to chase you, a little smirk plastered on his lips. It was going to be an eventful afternoon.

2022, age 26

The French GP hadn’t exactly gone as planned and Pierre was quite frustrated about it. During the race you were staying with his parents in the AlphaTauri garage and you were fervently hoping for him to get at least some points in his home GP, though you knew the car wasn’t performing that well.

This was why you were slightly worried about his state of mind when you came back to the hotel later that night. To leave him some space to take it out, you had stayed a little bit with his parents before they left for their hotel. You had a chat with his mom while his dad was on the phone with him and you could say they were having an important, almost heated discussion.

It was then time to head back to your hotel, where you knew Pierre was waiting for you. Once in the room you heard the shower water was running, Pierre must have been having one. The room was a mess so you decided to clean up a little bit.

Clothes and shoes, mostly Pierre’s, were scattered everywhere, the bags were opened and the vanity case was abandoned on the bed. It was clear that when he had come back he was upset, probably angry and he had just quickly grabbed the stuff he needed for his shower before heading to the bathroom.

Who knew how long he had been in there! The thought of him in those conditions haunted you and didn't want to leave him alone, but on the other hand you knew from experience that he didn’t want to be disturbed; then you kept tidying up, hoping that he would finish soon.

You picked up a pair of clean boxers that were lying on the desk and when you placed them in his suitcase your hand came into contact with something small and hard. You frowned before sticking your hand inside to reach for the mysterious object. Your jaw dropped when you realised it was a little box from Tiffany’s.

Your heart started pounding and a million thoughts were running in your head. The rational part of your brain was struggling to accept the reality of facts, that Pierre was going to propose to you, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. On the other hand the most dreamy and emotional part of you was already planning everything. You could already picture him waiting for you at the end of the aisle, your white dress, the reception in a beautiful garden…

Your train of fantasies was stopped by Pierre walking out the bathroom, wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top. When he saw you holding the tiny box his facial expression changed. He rubbed one hand over his face and a disconsolate sigh left his mouth.

“Y/N I can explain,” murmured Pierre but you interrupted him.

“I think it’s quite clear Pear” you lowered your head fidgeting with the tiny object in your hands.

“But I do want to explain cœur, I think you deserve it” he said, his tone convinced and determined. He reached out for you and you gave him your hand, which you accepted and he guided you towards the bed. You sat one next to another and he slowly began to speak.

“I wanted to do it.” he started, turning around to face you; his eyes were shining, but you couldn’t say whether it was sadness or something else. “I had planned everything with my dad’s help. After the race we would go to have dinner at the seaside and then I wanted to propose on the beach. But I was so sad after the race; I really hoped to score a point at least because Yuki had made it into Q3 in quali and the car seemed less shitty than usual. At the end I was so angry and I didn’t want to ruin the moment with my bad mood, so I didn’t do it.”

He sounded broken, probably both from the GP result and the fact he hadn’t dropped the question. He went on, whilst you were hanging on every word he was saying. “I even argued with my dad, because he thought that I had to do it anyway, I just had to put aside my irritation and ask you because this is more important than a race and-”

“Then ask me.” You interrupted him and his eyes widened.

“What?” He startled, and you realised you had actually said that out loud. Oh shit.

“No Pear, I mean- If you don’t want-” You rambled incoherently.

“You want me to ask you, cœur?” He asked with both surprise and hope in his voice.

Unable to trust your shaky voice, you nodded. His face lightened up and his smile grew bigger and bigger. He took the little box, which had stayed all the time in your hand, and he opened it while kneeling in front of you.

He looked up at you and you saw a single tear escaping his eyes. He breathed deeply before saying the infamous words, “Y/N, mon cœur, will you marry me?”.

The words were your breaking point: you started crying and hid your face in your hands. Your first thought was that Pierre could misunderstand your tears but that fear disappeared when you saw the soft smile on his face. He took one of your hands in his and gently started rubbing little circles on the back of it. He knew the crying wasn’t because of the question, but because of all the stress you had accumulated throughout the day.

After a couple of minutes you composed yourself and you came back staring Pierre in his eyes. Shortly after he removed the ring from the box and he got it closer to your hand.

“Just say yes cœur” he smiled shyly and you finally took courage to answer.

“Yes Pear, forever yes.” You said and let out a watery chuckle. His smile widened again, so much you thought he could burst from happiness. He lifted your hand to slip the ring on your finger, that was when you took some seconds to look at it: it was a thin silver band, with a small, delicate diamond on the top of it. Perfect in its simplicity.

Pierre lifted up bringing you with him and - once you were both standing - he hugged you tightly, rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Thank you cœur, I love you forever and always.” he whispered in your ear.

You slightly untangled you from his tight grip to look at him, you placed a soft kiss on his lips and nuzzled your noses together. “I love you too Pear, forever and always.”

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mignonricciardo · 2 years

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stuck in my brain | cl16

inspired by the aftermath of the french gp, I hope we’re all recovering <3 no matter who you’re rooting for, you’ve got to feel for him after hearing that radio. this is also inspired by stuck in my brain by chase atlantic.

as a note, I am writing this panic attack and experience with anxiety from my own perspective and experiences. not everyone experiences them the same way, and I’m sorry to all those who know how they feel. we’ll get through this <3

summary: charles has his best friend at the french gp, and she’s there to help pick up the pieces after he’s crashed. sometimes picking up the pieces involves some complicated feelings… (3k words)

warnings: description of a panic attack and anxiety, friends to (almost) lovers, fluff, mention of his father and jules bianchi, cursing

It all happens so fast—the lock up, his car spinning across the vibrant red and blue stripes, the smoke as he skids across the asphalt, the impact into the barrier. My stomach drops when Xavi asks if he is okay, and for a brief moment, there is no response until he yells about the throttle. His heaving breaths alarm me, radio silence besides his frantic breathing, and the pit in my stomach festers when he screams as he realizes his race is over. My heart drops, and my head hangs low as I press my fingertips into my eyelids. His radio goes silent, and I look back up to watch the screen showing him climbing out of the car. He tosses his gloves angrily, and as he jumps from the car, I make a silent wish for good karma for the marshal trying to console him. Tears burn behind my eyes as I watch him, and by the way he paws at his face and his overalls on his chest, I fear for him as his chest heaves.

I rip the red headphones off my ears before leaving the garage, and I storm through the paddock with my eyes set on Charles motorhome. I’ve known him my entire life, and I know how he reacts in these kinds of situations—he’ll want solitude, but it won’t be that easy with me around. Even as kids playing with our brothers or a karting incident, Charles would blame himself. Every single time. Even as teenagers when my mood swings strained our typically easy friendship, he blamed himself. Charles was always doing whatever he could to keep me happy, especially when that meant making his own life harder to help me, and he was usually the stronger one that was my shoulder to cry on. I’d worm my way in after I realized why he was isolating himself (or finally realized I was at fault and ready to apologize), but he was there for me every time my chest felt tight or my eyes burned. We stayed best friends over the years because of that.

The red of the motorhome makes my stomach roll even more as I beat him to it, and I pace around the small living area nervously as I pick my nails. The eruption of a frantic conversion and cursing outside the motorhome entrance draw my attention, and when Charles enters, helmet still on but his overalls hanging loosely from his hips, he freezes in the doorway. His breath hitches as he stops yelling and cursing at himself, and as I start to walk over to him, he locks the door behind him.

“Charles,” I start, unsure of what to say besides I’m here and please talk to me.

He rips his helmet off—red eyes, splotchy cheeks, and sweat-soaked hair—before walking toward me. He wraps his arms around me without a word, damp fireproofs sticking to my clothes, and his cheek presses to the side of my head. My arms wrap around him in response, hands rubbing up and down his back, feeling the white 16 emblazoned on his back, as an attempt to comfort him where words failed. His hands tremble against my back.

“I’m such an idiot,” he murmurs quietly. “I don’t deserve a championship at this rate.”

My arms keep him pressed to me, but I pull my face away from his chest to look up at him in disbelief. Did he really mean this? As I look at him, I notice how distant his gaze is as he looks off at the far wall. He continues rambling, words in his native tongue running together so quickly that I have a hard time hearing him breathe between sentences. One of my hands continues to rub his back while my other presses against his chest gently as I say his name. He doesn’t respond to it as he keeps with his frantic thoughts, and his chest starts to rise and fall rapidly beneath my fingers. He stumbles backward slightly, and his face contorts as one of his hands tugs at the fireproof shirt snug around the base of his neck. He’s having a panic attack. I nudge him backward toward the couch in his motorhome, feeling a bit better when he hits the couch compared to having him on his feet. His fingers continue tugging at the collar of his shirt, trying to pull the fabric away from his neck.

“Why can’t I breathe?” he gasps, voice warbling as his throat tightens.

“You’re okay, Cha,” I whisper gently, crouching next to him. The nickname from when we were kids slips out of my mouth without another thought, and while both of us barely notice it had been years since I used the elementary name, we find comfort in hearing it. His hands tremble as they fall to his knees, and he continues to gasp for air as he looks around the room in confusion. One of my hands rests against the back of his neck, fingers reaching toward his hair, and nudges him forward to put his head between his knees.

“Put your head between your knees,” my voice remains calm to try to bring him back down from the edge he’s hurtling toward. “It’s a panic attack. It’ll pass, but just listen to me right now, okay?”

He nods his head gently, parted lips still searching for enough air as he tucks his forehead between his knees. He’s thrown back to being a child. His mom used to run her fingers through his hair whenever he was upset, nails brushing his scalp and fingertips twirling the ends of his hair. He had longer hair when we were kids, swooping across his forehead and getting knotted when he took his race helmets off. It was the ultimate act of comfort to Charles—a vital piece in his memories from the losses he had suffered and funerals he had attended of people he loved. My hand against the back of his neck rests there gently, warm palm pressed to his hot neck and fingers pushing through his damp hair. His fingers continue trembling on where they rest on the bright red fabric stretched across his bent knees, but his breathing slows after a few minutes in the position. Charles lifts his head so he can see me crouched next to him. My hand stays at the back of his head as his red eyes meet mine. He’s silent, breath still heavy and sweat along his hairline, but my eyes hold his to try to keep him from spiraling again.

“You’re okay, Cha,” I whisper again, repeating what I had told him minutes before. “I’m the only one here.”

He nods his head, eyes scanning the room quickly before returning back to mine, “I didn’t stop back at the garage. Shit, they’re going to-”

I shush him, matching my breathing to his as my fingers press firmly against his scalp, “You can talk to them later, but right now, let’s worry about you first. We’ll face them when you’re ready.”

Charles notices this time. He notes the way I say we and not you, and his rapid heart slows at the thought. Warmth makes its way back to his trembling fingers, and he’s ever aware of my fingers rubbing his head the way I used to, an act I’d picked up from watching him run to his mother as kids. His eyes scan my face, noting the concern etched into the faint lines on my forehead and the sincerity of my gaze, and his fingers begin to still as his hands reach for my free one. It feels like I’ve stuck my hand into a freezer when it slides between his larger palms, but I don’t say a word as his fingers curl against mine. Warmth starts through his fingers, and while he attributes it to my warm touch he’s holding on to, he struggles to ignore the growing feeling in his chest.

“How did you know I’d come here and not the garage?” his voice is hoarse.

A smile tugs at my lips, “You’re my best friend, Charles. I’ve known you my entire life. After hearing the radio, I knew you’d want to seclude yourself, so I beat you here.”

A gentle smile spread on his face. It’s not one of his beaming ones full of dimples and laughter, with his teeth poking through and head thrown back, but after everything that had happened, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were enough to settle my nerves. The knock on the door startles our easy quiet, and his eyes go wide as his breath hitches. I curse under my breath as I stand from the motorhome floor, and I tell Charles to stay put while I answer the door. His press officer is on the other side of the door, and despite the nerves festering in my stomach, I fiercely defend my best friend as I demand some more time before sending Charles off to face the media. Charles laughs gently, a welcome sound after his panic attack, as I promise to pay the fine for missing media if I can’t get him out into the pen. All three of us know there’s no way I’m affording the fine, but the press officer agrees nonetheless before promising to be back in twenty minutes. I lock the door again once I shut it, and when I turn around, Charles is still uneasy, but a grin tugs at his lips. A single dimple just pokes through, and I feel better as I sit next to him on the tiny motorhome couch.

“Paying my fines for me?”

I laugh quietly as I sit next to him, arms brushing and shoulder bumping his side, “I’d do anything for you, no?”

Without another word, Charles shuffles on the couch so that his head lies in my lap and his feet are propped up on the arm of the couch. His legs spread out before him, and his hair fans around his head and across my pants. His eyes flutter shut as my fingers work their way through his hair again, gentle as the world falls away around him and he’s left relishing in the company of his best friend. No words are needed as we fall into this routine—one of us comforting the other. I memorize every detail of his face as his breathing finally returns to a steady rhythm. Dark eyelashes rest on the swell of his cheek, and the worried lines in between his eyebrows fade the longer my fingers run through his hair. Dark stubble spreads across his jaw, a feature I find increasingly heart-racing as we grow older, and the moles and freckles I had memorized like a constellation across his face remain as prominent as ever. He grows heavier as some of the tension in his shoulders and neck dissipate, and he sighs quietly before breaking our easy silence.

“I can’t keep making mistakes like this,” he mumbles, eyes still shut beneath my touch. “I feel like I’m drowning. I get stuck in my brain and then-”

“I know, Charles. I know it’s not easy,” I frown, trying to keep him from falling into another panic-induced episode. “You are deserving, though. If it doesn’t happen this year, then it’s next year. You’re still so young, Cha, and there’s still so much to do.”

“Racing used to be my escape, but now it's causing everything, and-” he cuts himself off this time, falling into silence as he feels his breath hitching again. “It feels like it's every day, and I can’t shake the dread. Feeling like the entire team is looking at me, relying on me, hoping for me, and I’m just letting them down.”

“Charles, look at me,” my hands rest on both of his cheeks, forcing him to meet my eyes when his eyelids open, revealing irises I could never quite put a name to. Sometimes his eyes appeared gray like the early mornings before rain in Monaco, and other times they shone hazel like the autumn leaves. Silence ensues as we look into each other's eyes, and for a brief moment, my heart quickens as I realize how little space is between us. His stubble is rough beneath my palms, and I feel the heat on his cheeks from the blush that blooms across his face.

I stumble over words for a moment, lost in his gaze before coming to my senses, “You’re always putting the blame on yourself. If its a bad weekend, it’s never the car. It’s always you. If it’s a good weekend, it’s the car and the team. It’s never you. You’re talented, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend. You’re too hard on yourself, and you always have been. You deserve this, Charles, whenever it comes.”

His eyes soften beneath my words, and his mystery-colored irises stay locked onto my gaze. Once my words sink in, I continue with my hands still pressed to his cheeks, “I know you feel the weight of other people’s expectations for this, and I know how badly you want this for you father and for Jules. I know how badly you want this, Cha, but you’re going to tear yourself apart trying to get there like this. I don’t like seeing you fall apart like this, and it kills me knowing you’re keeping it all in that head of yours. It’s why I’m here, so let it out.”

His voice cracks as he starts to speak, and soon, a single tear is leaking out of the side of his eye as he recounts everything. He lets every fear and anxiety loose, voice breaking as he spews every pressure he’s been feeling since signing with the Scuderia. My heart shatters knowing this has been building for years and I only just started noticing in the last few months, but one of my hands returns to weaving through his hair while the other releases his cheek (hesitantly, I admit) and falls to my side. He gingerly reaches for it, fingers intertwining with me gently, and our rough palms meet. His hands are warm now, but I let him take my hand. Whether it gives him strength to continue or grounds him in the moment, I never interrupt him to ask.

Once he’s finished with unleashing his fears, his chest feeling lighter and hands warmer than before, I glance at the clock on the microwave in the motorhome. He’s three minutes late for when I promised his press officer he’d be ready, but I say nothing about it as my fingers continue their way through his messy hair. He thanks me quietly as he sits up, hand releasing mine as my other falls away from his head.

“I’m not going to tell you not to be hard on yourself to the media because I know you, Cha, and you’re going to take the blame,” I say as he stands from the couch, heading toward his room to change from his suit to pants and his team kit. “I’m just asking that you let it go after this. Don’t dwell on it. This doesn’t define your career.”

He pulls his fireproof top over his head, and where I’d usually have no problem continuing our conversation like he didn’t have his muscular body on display, my eyes linger for a moment as my heart leaps into my throat. He pulls the team polo over his head, pushing the cap down onto his tussled hair from my fingers, and emerges from the room ready to face the media.

“You called me Cha,” he smiles sheepishly, dimples appearing softly and voice gentle. “It’s been awhile since I’ve heard that.” I shrug my shoulders, and without an answer, he continues as he wraps his arms around me, “It was nice to hear. Made me feel a little better.”

My arms hold around his waist, dropping as he breaks the embrace between us. I look up at him, little space between us but enough to keep from accidentally brushing his arm, “Well, I’ll remember it for the next races I come to.”

“Speaking of,” he glances at the clock on the wall before eyes return back to me, “can you stay with me until Hungary? I just want time at home in Monaco, maybe with you there I won’t be so caught up in my own head.”

“Charles Leclerc, are you asking for one of our world-famous never-ending sleepovers like when we were kids?” I grin at him, feeling a sense of pride as his airy laughter reveals his dimples.

He nods gently, “I can’t believe it, but I am. I think I could use it after this weekend.”

“Consider it a deal,” I nod.

We stand there awkwardly for a moment, the space between us closing every so slightly as we simply look at each other. His hands twitch, unsure of where to go or what to do as his feet stay put instead of leading him toward the door where his press officer is waiting. He’s leaning in slowly, brain on autopilot, but I’m doing the same. One of his hands rises to rest on my cheek, and just as I’m about to lean into him, a loud knock on the motorhome door sends us jumping apart. His press officer. I take a deep breath as I push my hair back away from my face while Charles answers the door. He turns back to me from the motorhome entrance.

“I’ll be back in a bit, then we’ll leave for home,” he calls, clearing his throat and avoiding my gaze as he darts to apologize to his press officer.

I’m about to answer, but the door to the motorhome is already shutting with my mind still racing. Shit, it’s going to be a long week.

TAGLIST

@lostinketterdam

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timetorace · 2 years

Text

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝

Hi! This one is inspired in the rumours that were floating around Carlos and a brazilian girl during the French GP (after the comments made by the brazilian commentator). Then I added some other things. PLEASE, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. Thank u. @diorleclerc @lickmeleclerc @libraryofloveletters (Thank u for editing this and all of you for pulling up with me)

enana= midget // amor=love // corazón=my heart

ship: carlos sainz jr. x fem!reader.

summary: after some rumors opened old wounds again, you and Carlos reach a turning point, is there a future for you worth saving?

warnings: mentions of cheating. betraying. alcohol mentions. NO PROOF READ.

word count: 9.4K.

FRIDAY - LE CASTELLET, FRANCE

You would love to say that you had seen it coming, that you had seen it coming, and that you had prepared for it. The truth was that you would not have seen it coming even if it had hit you on the head. Simply reality gave you a beating that left you knocked out.

Just after Austria, Paul Richard was the penultimate race before the summer break and that week Europe was experiencing a heat wave. The temperature was unbearable and not even the air conditioning could make it any better. You were in the garage watching FP2 when you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. What-? You had about twenty lost messages in the WhatsApp group you had with your friends, who were furiously discussing something over audio messages. You couldn’t listen to them at the time and that’s what you texted before one of them texted back “That cheating ass did it again, he can’t keep his dick in his fucking pants” You raised your eyebrows, who were they talking about? You replied quickly with a short “I’ll listen later” text, but you couldn’t even get back into hospitality before another one of your friends called you hysterical. Apparently, a Brazilian commentator told the story of how Carlos met a girl at a party after the Brazilian GP last year and then spent a few days at her house in the countryside, along with Lando and Luisa. Social media had already exploded with people talking about how all this was already a rumour last year or speculating about you two.

You were used to rumours, that was nothing new. People did not tire of speculating, that if you were not going to a race, that if there were no photos of you on vacation, that if you did not have public social networks. You understood the curiosity, but that was not a door you wanted to open. What you weren’t used to was someone echoing rumours on a broadcast and bringing them into the public eye. Social media were a microclimate, and the issue stayed there, but journalists rarely echoed rumours.

The heat wave was unbearable, so you were walking back to the hospitality after FP2 to get a bottle of water when Carlos glimpsed you and said something to Ellie, his PR manager, before jogging towards you.

“Ellie told me about the rumours,” he murmured, leaning toward you slightly to stand next to you. “Have you seen them?”

“Yes, I have,” you replied with a quick nod “Leticia called me to talk about it” She also had a lot to say about how Carlos was a fucking idiot but you would not say that to him.

“And?”

You gave him a look of confusion. “I wasn’t worried about it until you brought it back and asked,” You didn’t understand why he would give importance to something like that if it was just rumours “Why? Should I be worried about something?”

“I just wanted to make sure you are ok” Weird. He knew you didn’t use to bother with rumours, mainly because they were always speculation and you had to admit that most of the fans were very nice.

“I’m” You nodded briefly “I trust you” You added. You stared at each other in silence for a moment. You opened your mouth as if to say something else, but you weren’t sure what to say or where all that came from or why Carlos had brought it up. If it was just rumours, there was no need to worry about that, was it?

You spoke too soon. Turns out there was something to worry about. Social media, mainly Twitter, quickly identified who she was and found a TikTok video of Carlos swimming in this girl’s pool and they also found some photos of him posing with the girl and some of her friends, at least the photos were not anything committed, it was like any photo he took with a fan. Apparently, this girl was friends with Rubens Barrichello’s son and the rumour was that Carlos, Lando, and Luisa, among other people, had ended up at her house in the countryside for a crazy party weekend. There would be nothing to worry about if it wasn’t because he had told you he was going to stay for a few days at the hotel in Sao Paulo, playing golf with Lando.

You caressed your temples.

That couldn’t be happening to you again. You didn’t want it to happen again. It was like coming back six years in time. You were feeling a déjà vu.

A few months before you got pregnant with Sofia, you and Carlos were having a rough patch. They fought all the time and hardly saw each other. Mainly the fights were over small things that later ended up becoming huge. He was in his last stint at Toro Rosso before moving on to Renault and when he wasn’t traveling; he had to spend hours and hours in the simulator as a development driver. You were in your last year of college living the good life, in Ibiza, traveling with friends. You guys were trying to make it work no matter what and especially since you both hoped it was just a losing streak.

One day Carlos appeared at your door out of nowhere. He wasn’t supposed to visit Spain soon. You hadn’t seen each other for a month and you hadn’t spoken for a couple of weeks now because you had a big fight after he didn’t come to your birthday to go to the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes. In an attempt, you tried to be understanding with him and his work, but at that moment you just wanted your boyfriend around. It was almost felt like you were in a relationship with a ghost. You had been surprised, but you had decided that you were at least going to have dinner before talking about the fight you had recently. You hadn’t finished clearing the dishes when Carlos blurted out,

“I slept with someone else,” He said back then. At least he had the decency to look regretful.

At first, you thought you had misheard and were ready to crack a joke when you saw he wasn’t laughing. Carlos was dead serious. There was not a joking note on her face. You were furious. Your last fight had been left aside, and you had lost your voice from yelling at him so much. You had yelled, cried, insulted, kicked, and thrown things and he had simply stood there watching you, without moving. He hadn’t made excuses; he hadn’t tried to justify himself; he hadn’t blamed you. Simply, Carlos had stayed seated letting you unload. When you finished, you just stared at him for a moment before locking yourself in your room.

That night had been terrible. You hadn’t slept trying to figure out what you were going to do next. The most obvious option was to leave him and the other was to forgive him and move on. You didn’t want to forgive him, mainly because you were proud as hell and because you felt like it was what you were supposed to do. But you loved him so much. You didn’t want that to be the end of you. You thought everyone was human and made mistakes. The problem was that to forgive him you had to move on because you couldn’t forgive him, only to be blaming or resenting him all the time. If you forgave him, you had to leave all that behind and really move forward.

Eventually, you did. You forgave him. Then, out of nowhere, Sofia came into your lives. You guys moved forward. Not everyone could do that, but you could leave that bad memory behind and mistrust never arose again because in all those years Carlos had never given you a reason to doubt him. Until now. You didn’t really understand what was going on. You didn’t want to do it either, because that would probably lead to a crisis.

Both of you had grown up, and you wanted to believe that the way you argued had grown too. They no longer threw accusations out of nowhere and blew everything up. They were more rational and calmer, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe because all you could think about was how you could feel the wild beat of your heart even in your ears when Carlos approached you. You looked at Sofía, your daughter. She was coloring her book, oblivious to the panic you were feeling. You felt trapped. You wanted to get out of there and run away as far as possible, but you couldn’t.

“Ready to go?” Carlos asked, and you saw how Sofia looked up to smile at him. You couldn’t do that to her, you didn’t want to. You needed to solve it before it affected her.

“Did you finish the debrief?” You asked him with your eyes fixed on what was left of your apple. You were no longer hungry, you had lost your appetite.

“Yeah, we can go for today” He moved in front of you.

“Let’s go then,” you replied with a lopsided smile that didn’t reach your eyes before getting up from the table. Hospitality was almost empty. You collected Sofia’s things to put them in your bag.

Carlos stretched out his hand, brushing against yours to help you pick up the pencils and the book. You flinched at the contact. You were running on autopilot. Your head was spinning too much to think about, doing anything other than moving your feet and getting out of there as fast as possible.

If he noticed your reaction to his contact, he gave no sign.

“I’m sleepy,” Sofia moaned, rubbing her eye with her hand.

“She didn’t take a nap” You explained to him stoic as a statue.

Carlos nodded before taking her in his arms. You slipped next to them and you left the hospitality to walk in silence towards the paddock exit.

It was curious how the brain worked when you were in a crisis. Your brain didn’t seem to work the way you would like it to. The rational side would tell you to take it easy and think of all the logical reasons he hadn’t cheated on you. Instead of doing it, you kept thinking of all the possibilities, including that it was more than possible that he had cheated on you before and you would have never found out. All those rumours about him cheating on you might be true, after all. Not as ridiculous as they seemed to you just a few hours ago.

The ride back to the hotel was silent. The driver had the music down and Sofia had fallen asleep on Carlos’s shoulder as soon as you got in the car. He reached out the hand that wasn’t holding hers to offer it to you and you placed your hand on top of his before turning your gaze out the window.

You rationally knew that you were probably overreacting. A video meant nothing more than he had probably had a good weekend, but then, why had he told you he was staying at the hotel in Sao Paulo and had traveled to the countryside? It didn’t even bother you he’d had a weekend party in the slightest. The video in the pool seemed to be taken from an angle that Carlos didn’t realize, and it wasn’t exactly suggestive. The photos didn’t look like it either. Maybe she found him and asked for a photo like any fan. Some photos seemed innocent, but were they really? You couldn’t help but wonder if something else hadn’t happened.

You felt like an idiot overthinking the whole thing, but deep down, you felt that something was not right. It was like the last time again, only this time there was doubt. The last time he had admitted it to you directly, but now the doubt was floating in the air. You were not sure what was happening.

He gestured an “are you ok?” with his lips so as not to wake Sofia up, to which you responded with a nod. You knew you had to talk about that ASAP before it became a bomb, but it was race weekend and the last thing you needed was Carlos overthinking while he was driving at 300kmph.

You couldn’t avoid the conversation too much because as soon as they arrived at the hotel, Carlos left Sofia asleep on the sofa and left the door ajar before following you to the room.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked as you sat on the bed. You couldn’t wait to get in the shower. The heat in Le Castellet was unbearable, and you were all sticky.

“I have a headache,” you murmured in response, taking off your shoes.

“C’mon, give me some credit.” After all that time, he could tell when something was happening to you. You hated that right now.

You rolled your eyes “The fans found a video”

“About?”

“You’re at this girl’s house, swimming in her pool” He knew who you were talking about when you referred to ‘this girl’ “I hate asking but, is all this they are saying true?” You asked, turning to see him.

“I don’t know what they are saying, but I thought you weren’t worried about it.” He frowned.

“Things change, it’s not just some idiot talking about it on TV anymore” You jumped out of bed “What happened?”

“I told you, nothing”

You let out a sigh before scratching your forehead “I hate doing this but I’ve to ask, did you cheat on me?” You asked him, staring at him. It could feel like your heart stopped for a second and your breath hitched as you waited for his answer. You didn’t want to throw accusations into the air, but you needed to ask him directly. Seeing his face and assessing his expression, you wanted to believe that you could do it after all this time.

“No” Carlos shook his head, responded almost instantly, and frowned “Don’t you trust me?”

Now you felt bad for questioning him “I do” You nodded slowly “If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened, but I had to ask” The climate was now tense between you.

“Nothing happened,” Carlos shook his head “Lando and Luisa were there, they can confirm it”

Technically, they couldn’t unless they had slept next to him. You rolled your eyes “How did you end up there?”

“She knows Luisa, this girl’s father has his own golf course in the country house, which was where we were”

“Golf? Did you do all this to play golf with Lando?” The explanation sounded logical, but you still didn’t understand why he had done all that. Especially since he had told you he and Lando were going to stay in Sao Paulo to try out the golf courses.

“When you say it like that, it sounds stupid” He rolled his eyes “They-“

You interrupted him “I don’t care about Lando and Luisa, I’m not married to them, I’m married to you” You knew you were probably being too harsh and overreacting about a rumour but you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he had hidden from you he had been somewhere else “Why did you lie?”

“What are you talking about?” Really, he had forgotten? He really needed to get his head in order.

“You told me you were going to stay at the hotel in Sao Paulo with Lando, not at someone else’s house.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“It came up at the last minute. They offered it to us at the party, so we went. I didn’t think there was anything weird about it” You stared at him and analyzed his expression. He wasn’t lying. At least that’s what it seemed to you. The story made sense, at least. You understood he wouldn’t have found necessary to tell you because there was nothing wrong with going golfing with his friends.

“Okay” You nodded softly. You wanted to believe him, you needed to believe him, so you did.

“Are we good?”

“We’re good,” you agreed before Carlos walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured against your hair.

“It’s ok” you assured him, closing your eyes to inhale his scent.

Was it?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

SUNDAY - LE CASTELLET, FRANCE

It was race day and fortunately; the temperature had dropped a bit compared to the previous days. The subject had been buried between you. You believed him. You still believed that he had been an idiot for not having told you especially if there was nothing to hide. You thought the storm had passed. Turns out it wasn’t. The girl had posted a few stories on Instagram suggesting how football players, actors, and F1 drivers had tried to go on a date with her. Of course, she was following Carlos, by itself that wouldn’t mean anything if it weren’t because she had later answered some questions on Instagram suggesting that something had happened between her and an F1 driver and that the rumours weren’t rumours after all.

You had spent the entire trip to Paul Richard looking at the stories and ignoring the calls from your friends, who were surely willing to tell you how stupid they thought Carlos was. He had to go earlier that day, so you were going solo with Sofia. Your friends didn’t like when you forgave him years ago and surely now they were eager to tell you how wrong you had been to forgive him back then. They were going to have opinions about it.

“Mom” Sofia called you “Can I go?” She asked you, pointing to Carola, who was leading Checo Jr. and Carlotta by the hand.

“Go,” you told her and stood watching as she approached them.

Your phone vibrated again, and you rolled your eyes before answering the call.

“Leticia”

“Did you watch the videos?” Your friend asked you with a shriek.

“Yes, I did,” You let out a sigh “They don’t mean a thing”

“Don’t they mean anything? Talk to him,” she insisted.

“I did it. He says nothing happened and I believe him,” you told him firmly. You watched as Sofia ran with Checo Jr. and Carlotta.

“(Y/N)” Leticia’s tone made you close your eyes briefly. You didn’t want to hear everything she had to say, you knew she was coming from a good place but you didn’t need to keep dwelling on the subject “I love you but he’s done this before, what tells you he didn’t do it again?”

“He says he didn’t do it, I have to trust Leticia, he’s my husband” The children were playing tag and Carola was talking to a couple of people next to them.

“That he cheated on you before,” she added.

“Can you let that go? I'm the one who forgave him was me and we moved on,” You had forgiven and until that moment, you had never looked back “I won't believe some random girl over my husband”

“Just be careful, okay?” She mumbled, “Maybe the girl is telling the truth after all”

“Or maybe he wants her minute of fame and that’s it.” You really didn’t want to have that conversation with her. The last thing you needed was for Leticia to keep insisting on the song “I’ve to go”

You approached the Perez. Carola was telling you about the family’s plans for the summer break, but all you could think about was the conversation you had with Leticia. You couldn’t stop thinking that she came from a place of love and didn't want you to make a mistake away, but you wished you hadn’t answered her call.

Carola offered to watch Sofia for an hour, since she wanted to play with Carlotta and Sergio Jr. You promised her you would meet her at Red Bull hospitality after dropping off your stuff.

“Hey” Lando greeted you walking next to you “Sofia didn’t come today?”

“She is with the Perez,” you answered, speeding up your pace a bit.

“Are you ok though? Have you seen the videos Natalia posted? Luisa just called,” You closed your eyes briefly and took a deep breath. You really didn’t want to talk about it. Why couldn’t people understand that? “Luisa can’t believe she did this,” Lando babbled “She is technically not her friend, but she hangs out with her cousins and-”

You interrupted him, “I know there must be a very interesting story behind all this, but I don’t want to hear it today, Lando”

“Are you mad?” He asked, frowning.

“Not at you if that’s what you are asking” You shrugged. You still believed Carlos, you really did, but you didn’t want to hear more people talk to you about it. You wanted to believe Carlos, you had to because otherwise, it meant that he had lied to you.

“C’mon, (Y/N) I promise that nothing she says is true, he didn’t even look at her twice all weekend” Carlos hadn’t looked at her twice but somehow he ended up in her house? Lando had to find something better to say if he was going to want to defend him.

“Lando” You called him “I really don’t want to hear it” You didn’t want to talk about that stuff with anyone except him, you just needed to get on with your day and you would talk to Carlos later.

“Have you talked to Carlos yet?”

“He has commitments with the sponsors today” You explained HIM. That was the reason he had to leave the hotel a little earlier today.

“If that makes you feel better, nothing happened” Lando had no way of knowing that for sure, but you understood Carlos was his friend and he had to defend him.

“How do you know? Did you sleep in the same room? Lando took a step back at your tone. You felt bad for him but he had insisted on talking about it after you had told him you didn’t want to do it “Look, I’m not mad at you, Carlos is the one that owes me all that we already know” You scratched forehead “I’m just disappointed” You sighed “I know you are his friend and not mine but I opened you the doors to my home, I watched you sit on my table, play with my daughter, I thought at least you would give me the courtesy and the respect I deserved, not as your friend’s wife but as a person who welcomed you into their home” The fact that the girl was close to Luisa and that Lando had the idea of going in the first place did not I had been upset because after all it was Carlos who had agreed to go but at the time you were just mad and Lando was being your punching bag since you couldn’t talk to Carlos.

“Carlos said yes.” Lando frowned. “And I didn’t think there was anything wrong with going to the cottage, either.”

“And that’s his fault” You agreed “but you could have to think about the fact that he has a wife and a 5-year-old kid who by the way, thinks highly of you, Lando” You were being unfair, you knew it but you needed to download the anger and Lando had pushed you to the limit without knowing it “I’m sorry, I know you can’t control Carlos actions and that it’s not your fault but I’m mad right now and I don’t want to talk about it” You let out a sigh because Lando looked like he had been punched in the face. “See? I’m being a bitch, not the right time, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” He assured you “Talk to you later?”

You responded with a nod and a grunt before he trotted off to McLaren’s hospitality. Your shitty humor scared him, that was for sure. You didn’t know if you needed to talk to Carlos; you felt you didn’t, but after talking to Leticia and Lando, you felt you had to.

After leaving your things in the hospitality, you returned with Carola and the children. When you checked your cell phone, Leticia had sent you a message ‘I thought you wanted to see this video that’s going around on Twitter’ followed by a video where you could see Carlos at the party he had gone to, he had the same clothes as her. photo where he was posing with the girl and her friends. It seemed as if it had happened before the photo was taken. He was with his arm leaning against the wall, leaning. You supposed to hear her over the music. It was nothing compromising, but it was enough to send your mind flying. Now you couldn’t stop thinking about the videos that the girl had uploaded and the answers to her followers’ questions. In one, she had said how the driver had done it ‘more than one time’.

You watched that video repeatedly. Technically, there was nothing wrong with it but, and added to everything else, that was the breaking point where you wondered if you had to be so calm and trust Carlos’ word after all.

You couldn’t talk to Carlos until after the race, he had had to take a penalty, so he had started from the bottom of the grid but had come back to P5. It had been a difficult weekend because you knew Carlos wanted more but he had overtaken cars to get to the top of the table.

You walked down the hallway that led to his driver’s room. Carlos had to go to Maranello, and you were going to return with Sofia to Madrid on a commercial flight, and you didn’t want to have that conversation on the phone. You took a deep breath. You could do that. It was just a conversation with your husband.

“Hey,” you told him, leaning against the door frame.

“Hey, I’m done and we can go”

“Okay,” you told her with a small nod before moving to close the door behind you.

“Something happens?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“The girl,” You closed your eyes briefly “Natalie” You corrected yourself cause after all she had a name “She uploaded some stories talking about how she slept with a driver”

“Are you with that again? I thought we had clarified that nothing happened,” He replied, putting on his shirt.

“Leticia sent me a video of you and her at a party talking” You swallowed hard. There was actually nothing wrong with the video itself. God, were you being dramatic?

“I don’t understand what you want me to say”

Carlos didn’t seem to be worried or nervous about the new information, so that had to mean there was nothing he was keeping from you, right? “I want you to tell me if there is anything else that I should know other than what you told me I should be concerned about or that I am not seeing”

You saw how his expression changed a bit and how doubt appeared in his eyes

“Tell me” You demanded

“What?”

“You’re hiding something from me,” You pointed out “spit it out”

“She tried to kiss me,” He admitted, and you felt her breath catch briefly as she tried to process his words “But I pulled away before she could.”

“She tried to kiss you?” You asked him in disbelief. Hadn’t I thought of telling you before? Did you have to ask him to tell you? “And you didn’t mention it before? How did we go from ‘nothing happened’ to ‘she tried to kiss me’?”

“Nothing happened, she tried to kiss me, she was clearly drunk, and I walked away, that’s all” Carlos shrugged “You know that’s happened before” Some fans sometimes wanted to try their luck with drivers, and twice they had tried it with Carlos, he had been horrified but you had found it hilarious. Now you weren’t finding it the least bit funny.

“See? I really want to trust you but you keep lying and hiding things,” You groaned.

“I’m not lying,” He insisted.

“First you didn’t tell me you were going to stay at the country house and then you omitted to tell me she had tried to kiss you,” You wanted to believe him but he had already lied to you before or omitted things. You couldn’t help but wonder, what else wasn’t he telling you? “Put yourself in my shoes, Carlos, this isn’t getting any better”

“It’s the truth, nothing happened I swear, there’s nothing else I can say”

“I don’t even get why you wanted to go to her country house in the first place, all to play golf?”

“Was I supposed to say no?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and you wore red. Did he still not understand that it wasn’t right?

“Mhm, yes?” You told him as if it was obvious “You wouldn’t even want to go to something like that, especially knowing that if anyone found out, rumours would spread.”

“It was just a weekend in the country, I wasn’t even alone with her,” He defended himself “What has anything to do with my love for you?”

“You put me through all this speculation and rumours to go play golf, Carlos. My faith in you is falling quick”

“What am I guilty of? Wanting to play golf? Wanting to take a break with my friends?”

You snorted, “I wish I could do that”

“Do what? Take a break? Of course, you can”

You passed your hands over your face. He couldn’t be serious, he couldn’t be so oblivious to the fact that you had a five-year-old depending on you “Are you kidding me? What about Sofia? Who is the one who is with her when she gets sick? Who takes her to school? Who helps her with her homework?”

Carlos took a step back, a little hurt by your statement. Well, at least he knew you were furious “That’s not fair. You know I’m there whenever I can when work isn’t in the middle”

“Or when you’re not playing golf,” you muttered scathingly.

“Are you suggesting I’m not a good father?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, if you keep pulling things like this you are not getting the award for father of the year that’s for sure,” you mocked sarcastically. You were uncontrollable, and you really didn’t mean it, but now you were furious.

“husband of the year? Maybe not,” He shook his head, giving you a hurt look “But father? Don’t you think you are being a little unfair?”

“Instead of spending a part of your limited time with your daughter, you stayed there, have fun and lie to me about it. That’s ok but is that me being unfair or is it you not seeing things?” You weren’t thinking clearly. You wanted him to hurt as much as your chest was hurting you at that moment. You knew he would be there more if he could and that the parents could also take time off “I would love to have fun go to Ibiza with my friends and leave Sofia with someone else,” Especially if he was around, that would be much easier “but you know, at least one of us has to stay and give her some stability”

“Sometimes I need to take a break and I enjoy playing golf. Apparently those are my sins,” He said, and you raised your eyebrows. Was he being sarcastic now?

“A break? Do you feel you needed a break?” Suddenly you were angry about the fact that he had never thought about you, that maybe you also needed a break sometimes “What about me?”

How had you guys gone from talking about the videos and what had happened in Brazil to questioning which of you two deserved more of a break? You needed to get out of there. You didn’t want to continue having this conversation with him. It would not end well, even though everything was already a mess, anyway.

“I think I’m going to leave with Sofia early,” you murmured, turning around to open the door.

“(Y/N)” He called you “Don’t do this”

“Me? You are the one making the stupid decisions” You rolled your eyes before opening the door and walking out.

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TUESDAY - MADRID, SPAIN

It was funny how everything could fall apart so fast. You thought your relationship with Carlos was solid, but now you could only see how everything was falling apart in front of you. It was a house of cards, fragile and that with just a breeze had ended up in pieces.

What had followed the disastrous weekend in France had been a client asking if you were fit to work. A client you had been working on for the last few months had looked at you and asked if that was a good time for you to meet to see the details for the coatings. You would have thought she just wanted to be polite if it wasn’t for the look she had given you. She had given you a look of sympathy. You gave her a friendly smile and told her you were fine to see the details of the coatings, but deep down you were furious. People talked. You preferred to pretend like it wasn’t, but it was. People probably also talked about it behind your back.

Your boss also asked you if you needed some days off. No, you didn’t need it. Why would you? You never regretted having started dating a public person like Carlos, but for the first time, you were. The client and your boss hadn’t even had to mention what they were referring to. You knew they had probably read about your private life.

You knew how all that worked. The rumours. You had seen it a couple of months ago with Checo’s video after the Monaco Grand Prix. Everyone had been talking about it for a week until Checo had released a statement to calm the waters. At that moment, you had felt bad for Carola, for having to deal with all that after giving birth less than a month ago.

Hola! magazine published an article about how Carlos and you seemed to be more solid than ever, along with some photos in the paddock and others recycled from previous vacations. You suspected that the Ferrari PR team could be behind that, working behind the scenes.

You avoided Carlos as much as possible, trying to put a space between you so you could cool your head and think clearly about what had happened. You and Sofia were supposed to travel to Budapest on Friday to join him for the last race of the summer break before you all moved to Mallorca for the rest of the break. Blanca, Carlos’s sister, was getting married next week, so they were going to spend a few days in Madrid before going on vacation. You decided you weren’t in a mental state to call Carlos to tell him that. You just sent him a text saying you’d see him in Madrid on Monday. Of course, he called you after reading the message. You ignored his calls twice until he saw that he clearly would not stop, so you answered the phone.

“Finally,” He answered on the first ring “Are you avoiding me?”

“Yes, I am” There was no point in denying anything. You didn’t want to talk to him after what had happened on Sunday.

“Are you still mad about that?” He let out a moan from the other end of the phone “I told you already what happened”

“Yeah, I know the speech by heart, ‘nothing happened’, right?” Sarcasm came out of your voice.

“Are you still mad?”

“No, I was angry on Friday maybe, now I’m furious,” You corrected him. Furious couldn’t explain how badly you wanted to play darts with a photo of him “Everyone is talking about what happened, my boss just asked me if I don’t want to take a vacation, so you’re not exactly my favourite person right now”

“I don’t understand why you care so much about what people say?”

“It’s humiliating, I have clients who are aware of what they say about my private life and all the rumours they are inventing” From a threesome of Carlos with Lando and the girl until he had bought her a ticket so that saw you at the Monaco Grand Prix when you knew that wasn’t true, he had been glued to you that weekend, his whole family had been there too, that just wasn’t possible “A client, a client asked me if I was fit to continue with the project, this is my job Carlos, I don’t live being your lapdog”

“The rumours will go away, they will move on to the next topic of the moment,” He said to comfort you.

“They won’t go away fast enough,” You sighed and rubbed your hand over your face “An article in Hola! won't make them go away.”

“It’s the most popular magazine in Spain,” Carlos pointed out.

You let out a bitter laugh “You think an article is gonna be enough to shut it down?” You rolled your eyes. People on Twitter almost certainly did not read that magazine and you doubted they would stop talking about it soon. His name was still trending “It’s not just Spain, everyone is talking about this in case you haven’t noticed”

“The rumours aren’t my fault.” He murmured back, “You knew this was my life before you got into it.”

“Yeah, I know”

“Why are you mad at me, then?”

“You are an idiot! That’s the problem! You acted like one with all this stuff,” You took a deep breath, you really didn’t want to explode against him and start yelling at him on the phone “I-I have to go, Sofia is calling me”

“I didn't hear anything”

“I’ll talk to you later,” you answered before ending the call. You put the phone aside. Yes, that definitely hadn’t gone well.

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MONDAY - MADRID, SPAIN

You knew immediately when Carlos slid in beside you on the bed. Mainly because you felt the bed sink under his weight and because you could smell the scent of his shampoo as if he had just taken a shower. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know that it was early in the morning. He had sent you a text (to which you hadn’t responded) before you went to sleep to let you know he was going to be late. Hungary had not been good. Both Ferraris had been left off the podium and had suffered a beating from Red Bull and Mercedes. In addition, the strategy had been a disaster and the criticism of the team was becoming increasingly fierce. When he saw he had no intention of approaching you, so you rolled over to lean on him and snuggle up against him even without opening your eyes, you didn’t think you could face him at that moment. He was so hot, so cozy, perfect to cuddle up to.

“Hey, you,” He murmured brushing his lips with your hair “Shouldn’t we talk?”

“Tomorrow” You moaned against him and felt a couple of drops from his wet hair fall on your forehead.

You knew you shouldn’t. You were giving mixed signals, but you were semi-asleep and you weren’t so worried about the mixed signals but about snuggling against the warmth of him.

The next morning, you slipped out of bed and straight into the kitchen. If you were lucky, maybe you could make breakfast and sneak away, but when you were almost done, he walked into the kitchen with his hair tousled and still with a sleepy face.

“At least if you are gonna cheat on me, you should have been smart to do it.” You snapped out of nowhere. If they were going to talk about it, it was better to go to the point “Maybe my problem is that I expected too much from you”

“For the millionth time, I didn’t cheat on you,” He replied with a hoarse voice opening the refrigerator.

“I wish I could believe you” You snorted, cutting a couple of slices of bread “How could I know? How could I know nothing happened?

“Cause I’m telling you it didn’t”

“And that should be enough? I should trust your word just like that ”And his word should suffice then? Normally I would, but at the time you couldn’t stop thinking about how you had been in that position before. “Your word means nothing to me right now”

“I didn’t betray you”

“You owe me fidelity but first, you owe me respect, you couldn’t even respect me enough to not drag me into this month in public” You had spent the week with your boss insisting that you take a few days off and explaining to your clients that you could still pay attention to their projects.

“I wasn’t the one that made it public”

“You think I’m mad at her for taking her minute of fame?” You asked in disbelief “I’m mad at you for even giving her the chance to do it in the first place,” He should have thought and didn’t even go there in the first place “The fact you didn't cheat doesn’t make it any better, you still lied”

“I need you to trust me, nothing happened,” He insisted and approached you to place his hands on your shoulders but you took a step back

“Trust you? You cheated on me once. What’s stopping you from cheating on me again?”

“You forgave me for that!” Carlos exclaimed.

“I did, yes” You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Then you can’t bring it back after all these years and use it against me. If you decide to forgive, you can’t go out there throwing it in my face”

You opened your mouth to reply when he saw something moving out of the corner of your eye. Sofia came out of the hall, rubbing her eye with her fist.

“Are you fighting?” she asked softly.

“No corazón, we chat, that’s all,” you assured her, giving Sofia a small smile. Piñon came walking behind her before approaching Carlos so that he could pet him. Traitor.

“Come here, enana” Carlos said to Sofia before taking her in his arms “Let’s make those pancakes you like” he added before giving you a look that said you were definitely going to continue that conversation later. Fantastic. You couldn’t wait.

A couple of hours later, while you were trying to finish an email for a client, Carlos walked into the office.

“Didn’t you get the memo? I don’t want you here. Go away, get lost,” you growled without looking up at him. You were in a bad mood. Your customer thought you were distracted because the store had apparently delivered the wrong colour tile. That wasn’t your fault. How could it be? “I don’t want to deal with you right now.” You didn’t want to know if he was cheating on you or not.

“Stop walking away from me,” He leaned against your desk “We need to solve this out”

“I’m not 22 anymore. I can’t just turn around and walk away. I wish I could, but I can’t” You slammed the laptop lid shut. You’ve had enough of your talk. You just wanted me to leave you alone “Cause be sure as fuck that I would walk away if it wasn’t for Sofia”

“You don’t mean that”

“Oh, I do. You kept things from me, lied about it, and then suggested it was because you ‘wanted a break’ was really revealing.” You still didn’t understand why he had wanted to do all that.

“I didn’t want the rumours to happen.” His guilty expression almost made you feel sorry for him. Almost.

“And you think I wanted this? Having a baby at 22? No, I did not, but these are the cards we got.” And he was the one who needed a break? If I needed a break, then you needed the world to stop “You had an option, you could just walk away”

“What?”

“When I got pregnant with Sofia, I gave you a choice, to walk away,” you reminded her. At that moment, you didn’t want him to feel trapped and need to stay with you just because you got pregnant.

“What does all this have to do with what happened in Brazil?” Carlos frowned.

“You said you needed a break and I’m just remembering you that you had the choice to walk away back then”

“I couldn’t have even if I wanted to and you know that” Of course, he would always want to do the right thing, he could never walk away from his daughter but still you gave him the option to choose what he wanted to do. Neither of them was ready to have a child, but less than nine months later, Sofia arrived.

“I ’m giving you the choice again. If you don’t want this life, you can go” You would not hold him. You were tired of fighting and, honestly, you weren’t even sure of anything anymore.

“You are giving up on us?” He asked, staring at you.

“You did it first,” you replied without taking your eyes off him “If you think you don’t want this life, married life, husband life, father life, then you are free to walk away”

“I could never walk away from Sofía” It was good to know, but then if he could walk away from you?

“Good to know. At least one of us is holding you back.” You replied sarcastically, but before Carlos could respond, Sofia stormed into the office.

“Moooooooooom!” she called out before stopping to look at the two of them “Are you fighting again?”

“We are not fighting, enana“ Carlos assured her, giving her a sweet smile “What happened?”

“I want a sandwich”

You gave her a look, and you raised her eyebrows.

“Please?” she added.

“A sandwich it’s then,” He said before picking her up and walking out of the office without even glancing at you.

Well, that had gone bad. Even if he hadn’t cheated on you, even if he had just lied to you, added to the background, you couldn’t help but think that he was lying to you. You wanted to trust him, you really wanted to, but Carlos had cheated on you before, that he was stopping him from doing it one more time? There was nothing to stop him. In fact, he could do it without you knowing about it. The problem was that even without the deception; he had still been disloyal to you in other ways. Also, if he hadn’t cheated on you, why hadn’t he mentioned to you earlier about the girl trying to kiss him? You hated having to be like this, doubting his word, but unfortunately, he had given you over one reason to do it.

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THRUSDAY - MADRID, SPAIN

The rest of the week was torture. You two only interacted when Sofia was involved. You still slept in the same bed every night, mainly because Sofia was smart enough to know that something was happening if you two slept separately. The first night like that was an inferno, so you just fell asleep “accidentally” on the couch watching a movie or over your desk in your office. Every time, you woke up with a blanket over you. You hated him. Not only for the obvious, but for still doing stuff like that for you. It makes it harder to hate him as you should. You had to hate him for putting you in that situation.

Thursday night was Carlos’s sister’s bachelorette party and her fiancé’s bachelor party, so you two were going out separately. When you came back, you were clearly drunk, having lost count after finishing the fourth round of tequila shots. Normally you would stop before, but you wanted to get drunk. You needed to get drunk to cope with everything that was happening with you and Carlos. You were too tired and drunk to think about sleeping on the couch in an awkward position. Carlos was already in bed with the lights off when you came in. You cursed when you couldn’t undo the strap on your heel that made him squirm on the bed.

“Need help?” he asked with a murmur.

“No,” you growled, forcing the heel strap to lodge.

“Let me,” Carlos replied, getting up from the bed and approaching you. He crouched in front of you and you put your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. Once I took off your heels, you put your feet on the ground and let out a groan of pleasure when you felt the cold floor under your feet. Wearing heels was a pain. You didn’t even have the strength to remove your makeup, so you crawled into bed and lay on your side. Carlos did the same, standing next to you.

“You hurt me,” you moaned as you felt the mattress move under his weight.

“I know,” he murmured.

“All you do is hurt me,” you complained “You are never here, so what am I supposed to do now? Worrying all the time about where you are and who are you with?”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Carlos replied, placing his hand on your arm.

“I gave you the best years of my life and this is how you pay me,” you slurred “Lying to my face”

“I’m sorry”

“Maybe I’m the one that’s your mistress after all” You moaned “Oh gosh” You put your hands over your face “I’m your mistress” You moaned “I hate you” You exclaimed and heard Carlos let out a breath “I hate you so bad” You hated him for making you love him, for loving so much every single thing of him.

“You are not my mistress,” He replied, shaking his head “There is no one else but you”

“I wish I could believe you,” you moaned and paused before speaking again “Why did you need a break from Sofia and me? Are we overwhelming?” You asked him with a hurting look.

“What? When did I say something like that?”

“The other day in your driver’s room, you said you needed a break”

“I-” He sighed “That wasn’t what I meant”

“Carlos?”

“And it is?”

“If you didn’t cheat on me, then why did you lie?” You asked him, turning to look at him.

Carlos stared at you for a minute before letting out a sigh “I don’t know”

Well, that answer only gave you more doubts.

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SATURDAY - MADRID, SPAIN

It was the day of the wedding. The day before, you had woken up with a hangover from hell and Carlos had just been... weird. He had been giving you weird looks all day and had a wet puppy look that made you wonder what the hell you said while you were drunk. That morning, he was not in bed when you woke up, so you had no clue what had happened.

Saturday was chaotic. Sofia had to be there earlier because she was going to be the flower girl, so Carlos’ parents took her a little earlier. You were going to go later so you could meet there.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” you told him, leaving the room still adjusting your bracelet “What are you doing?” You asked, frowning when you saw he was sitting at the table looking at a fixed point.

Carlos turned to see you “I’m giving you the divorce,” He informed you, moving the papers that were on the table towards you.

You stared at him for a moment “What?” you asked him in disbelief

“I’m giving you the divorce if that’s what you want”

“I heard you” You swallowed hard. How had that happened? Was he letting you go? “Are you giving up on us?

“I just want you to be happy,” He murmured “And the last two weeks? You were the most miserable person I’ve ever seen and I hate that for you,” Carlos explained getting up from the table “I’m sorry it’s because of me because I was an idiot”

“I’m sorry if I can’t avoid my humour,” you replied scathingly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“The last thing I want is for you to be miserable because of me”

“Giving me the divorce would be the least you could do after what you have done,” you pointed out. You didn’t want a divorce. You loved him, but you needed Carlos, to be honest, and willing to make changes. Not to repeat the same mistakes that had brought you there above all.

“We have a daughter that will need two parents that can coexist. We need to end this before we can’t even look at each other,” He pointed out.

He was giving up on you. As simple as that. He was letting you go and you couldn’t feel any more pain than what you were experiencing at that moment “You don’t think we can solve it?” You asked in a whisper.

“Last night you said you hated me,” He explained to you “I don’t think there is a point of return from that” Carlos added getting close to you “Also, you said something that made me think, I wanted to take a break from the races, not from you, nor from Sofia”

“Oh,” You frowned. He was referring to what he had said in his driver’s room. So he didn’t want a break from family life?

“You should explain it to me better. I’m sorry,” Carlos made a face.

“You should have just said it, not gone incognito for a weekend,” You agreed with a nod “And lie to me about it and hide things from me”

“I was wrong, I know, I’m sorry,” He admitted. At least Carlos was taking full responsibility for his actions.

“You didn’t ask me why I hate you”

“Why do you hate me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“For making me love you,” You replied before letting out a sigh “That’s the thing, I love you so much” You bit your lower lip “And that’s a problem cause I can forgive all the stupid things you do, for all the love I’ve for you, for our little family, for our daughter”

“Do you think you can forgive after all this?” He asked, and you were silent for a minute before nodding slightly. You could at least try “You don’t want the divorce?”

“No,” You frowned “Why would I? I want us to work, but I need you to do better, be better Carlos, please”

“I will,” He assured you, nodding energetically before moving closer to you to wrap his arms around you. You had missed contact with him so badly “I’m so sorry, amor“ Carlos murmured against your hair “Are we ok?” He asked after a moment.

You bit your lower lip, you wanted to be honest with “No” you murmured softly but raised your head to give him a small smile “But we will be, eventually” you added confidently.

#carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz jr one shot #carlos sainz one shot #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one x reader

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racinginchid3nt · 7 months

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Happier Than Ever | Part One

Y/N x Pierre Gasly, Y/N Best Friend x Lance Stroll

Whirlwind romances with professional athletes certainly have their perks, or do they?

Inspired by Happier Than Ever - Billie Eilish

Warnings: mentions of spa history

Previous | Next

Masterlist

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You had been an F1 fan for as long as you could remember. Growing up nearly every weekend had been dedicated to free practice, qualifying, and Grand Prix. Of course when you grow up in Spain, home of the great Fernando Alonso, it was hard to not watch. You had vivid memories of watching him win the drivers championship twice when you were in primary school. And after him came Carlos Sainz, now one of the Ferrari golden boys.

So when you got the chance to attend the Spanish Grand Prix for work last year, you had of course agreed. The tech company you worked for had partnerships in lots of sports, and fancy corporate tickets came with them. You knew going in that you might get to meet a driver or two, but you certainly didn’t expect what happened. A flirty conversation and the exchange of contact information that turned into a whirlwind romance with a certain French driver that changed your life in the blink of an eye.

It took only four months before he asked if you would stop working. You could move in with him, spending the year flying around the world to beautiful destinations. He would support you financially of course, aware you would need spending money. It had taken some convincing, having been working for nearly a decade. But when he wanted to he could be incredibly persuasive. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity he said.

And while you worried about the chance of everything crashing and burning, you hoped the experience would still be worth it. Plus, what if it all worked out? What a story to tell your future kids.

The thing with relationships like this though, was as quickly as they could come together, they could fall apart. Tensions ran high between the both of you, traveling wearing on you and constantly competing on him. The season had been rough for him, Alpine so different to Alpha Tauri.

That was how you found yourselves arguing in a hotel room in Hungary. A double DNF for Alpine meant missing important constructors championship points, but also meant that the gap between Pierre and Esteban was closer than either would like.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Pierre! Obviously I’m not happy you DNFed!”

“Noooo of course notttt. Because that would mean you would need to care!” He yelled.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No you are! I don’t understand how you can’t admit that you’re wrong!”

“Because I’m not fucking in the wrong Pierre! I congratulated Charles. He raced well.”

“Whatever. I’m not having this discussion with you. You’re so fucking obtuse sometimes.” He replied. Walking to the door he slammed it as he left.

Falling into the bed you wondered how this had become your routine. How the sweet man you fell in love with over video calls and what’s app messages could get so angry about such stupid things. It was just the adrenaline, you told yourself. He would be back in the morning, a bouquet of flowers and breakfast in his hands, apologizing profusely.

And when you woke the next morning you found that you were right.

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You had been raised to expect the royal treatment from your boyfriends. Your father made sure of that before he passed.

That was how you found yourself calling your best friend a few days later, asking her to come to the Belgian GP, Pierre’s treat. You knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the paddock passes. Formula One had been one of things the two of you bonded over in primary school. And as you grew up and went of to university together, spending your Sunday mornings hungover on the couch in your crappy student accommodations while you watched the races had become your routine.

It was her first time attending a race in person, and you were determined to make it the best possible experience. You brought her along to every day of the race weekend.

Sunday had come around quickly, and the excitement battled against the dread within you. It was raining, the track slick. Spa was notorious for rain, but when combined with the high speed turns and hills it made for an unsafe situation. Pierre had been silent that morning as he got around for the race.

You weren’t sure how to comfort him. How could you when you would never understand the pain that racing her year after year brought? He turned in on himself, seeking out the privacy of his drivers room to methodically follow his pre race routine. Giving him that privacy, you spent the morning with Y/N Best Friend. When the race started, you sent up a silent prayer that everything would be okay.

That was how you found yourself having a panic attack in the Alpine garage after the crash between Carlos and Oscar. As you hyperventilated into your best friends arms, she dragged you away from the garage and back to the nearly empty energy suite. You listened to the race commentary from the bathroom, having locked yourself in and unable to watch.

When the checkered flag flew and the race was declared finished, you took the first full breathe you had all day. He had made it. He was okay. Oscar and Carlos were okay. Charles was okay. Yuki was okay. Everyone was fine. Pulling yourself together and cleaning off your smeared mascara, you made your way out to Y/N Best Friend. She sat patiently on one of the couches, watching the podium on the nearby tv screen.

A text came through from Pierre, telling you that there would be extra media today and that he would meet you back at the hotel. Tonight marked the start of the summer break. As the two of you headed out to the car, you talked your best friend through the nights plans. A bunch of the drivers were going to a club in the city, the night to be filled with drinking and dancing.

The boys so rarely got to let loose during the season, so you knew tonight would be a fun one. And you also knew that Y/N Best Friend could use to let loose as well. You had teased her about the possibility of getting a good hookup in during the weekend. The drivers were all in incredible shape, so went the life of a professional athlete, and you knew she had been single for that past year since her and her ex broke up when he left Spain for a job opportunity after uni ended. Having left her alone these past few months, you knew your introverted best friend had rarely been out, and certainly hadn’t meant anyone.

As you looked back on that trip a little over a month later, on the events that came out of that night, you wondered how things could turn to shit so quickly.

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A/N: This first part is a short one. The story is a spin off to my other story, Id Probably Still Adore You. You do not need to read that one first for this one to make sense, but certain topics will be addressed in more depth in that one.

I’m not currently sure how frequently updates on this one will come out, as that one remains my primary piece right now.

#f1 fanfic #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #f1 #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x you #lance stroll #alpine #gasly #formula 1 x reader

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angelasscribbles · 10 months

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Victim of Love Chapter 8: Exposure

Series: Victim of Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Liam x Riley

Word Count: 1,609

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this chapter: Brief lemons

Song Inspiration for series: Victim of Love by The Eagles

Some people never come clean

I think you know what I mean

My other stuff: Master List.

The morning light filtered in through the French doors that lead to the balcony as well as the big bay window of the cabin’s master bedroom. But that wasn’t what had woken him up.

It was the incessant ringing coming from his cell phone. He mumbled something incoherent as he rolled out of bed and fumbled through his discarded clothes on the floor looking for the source of the annoyance. He finally came up with the phone and silenced it as he glanced back at the bed.

Riley made a few muffled sounds as she turned over, but she didn’t seem to be awake yet. He sat on the floor and looked at his screen.

Three missed calls from Liam. What the fuck? Why was Liam blowing up his phone so early in the morning? He opened his text messages. There were several. All from Liam.

What the fuck is going on?

Where are you?

Is Riley with you?

I think you owe me some answers.

There was a link. He clicked on it.

It was an article from the Cordonian Star. His eyes quickly skimmed the article.

Duchess Riley Brooks, long rumored to be the king’s mistress, was spotted last night cozying up to another man. The man in question is none other than the king’s long-absent best friend, Drake Walker. The couple was spotted at Xtreme, one of Stormholt City’s most exclusive nightclubs. According to witnesses, they seemed very much taken with each other. Has the duchess traded in her married lover for a more eligible bachelor? It would certainly seem so. One can’t help but wonder how the king feels about this turn of events.

Her Grace was considered the front-runner during the king’s social season but was unable to secure council approval. Rumors have long swirled that their love affair never ended, despite his marriage to another woman.

He skipped the rest as his eyes found the accompanying photographs. They were definitely incriminating. Riley wrapped in his arms on the dance floor, his forehead resting on hers. The two of them leaned across the table toward each other as they talked. Their hands entwined as they left at the end of the night. The two of them leaned against the car in the parking lot, kissing. There was no mistaking that one.

Well, shit.

He hadn’t wanted to blow up her life. He’d had no intention of pushing her into any kind of choice or decision. While he wasn’t trying to intentionally deceive his best friend, he had thought any conversation about feelings he might be developing could, and should, wait until he had some kind of clarity on what exactly those feelings were.

But now the matter had been taken out of his hands.

He glanced at Riley again and his heart stuttered in his chest. The sight of her sleeping peacefully in his bed felt righter than anything he’d ever felt in his life. Like she belonged there.

He stood and quietly stepped into his pants, sans underwear, before slipping out of the room. He pulled the door softly shut behind him and then made his way downstairs. He passed through the living room to the kitchen before dialing Liam’s number.

Liam picked up instantly, “What the actual fuck is going on, Drake?”

“Listen, I-“

“You know the vehicle you borrowed has a GPS tracker on it, right? I know you’re at the cabin. Is Riley with you?”

“Yes,” he ran his free hand through his hair with a sigh. He might be okay with keeping his mouth shut, but he couldn’t outright lie to his best friend when asked a direct question.

Drake could hear Liam’s fury as he demanded, “Did you sleep together?”

Another sigh, “Yes.”

“How could you do that to me? I trusted you with her, you’re my best friend! At least I thought you were!”

“I am your best friend, Li! Just calm down!”

“Calm down? Calm down? Yesterday you told me you were going to check on her and this morning I find out that not only did you take her out, but you fucked her as well and you did it all publicly! Were you trying to humiliate me?”

“Jesus, Li!” Drake’s voice rose a little as his anger made him forget he was trying not to wake Riley, “Is that really the part you care about? What the public thinks? I thought you told me you loved this girl?”

“I do love her! But my public image-“

“Is already tarnished by infidelity! You have a wife at home, a pregnant one, in case you’ve forgotten!”

“It was a political marriage! I’m entitled-“

“Stop right there! I love you, man, like a brother, I do but you’re being a colossal ass right now! Can you even hear yourself? Talking about what you’re entitled to? She deserves better than what you’ve given her!”

“Oh, is that what she told you?”

“She didn’t have to tell me anything, Li! I have eyes!”

“What are you trying to say, exactly?”

“I’m saying that regardless of if you like it or not, you are married, and she is not!”

“So?”

“So that makes her one hundred percent available!”

“Do you really think you can just sweep in here and take her? You have no idea what you’re getting in the middle of! I know things have been rough between us recently, but we love each other!”

“Sometimes loving someone means letting them go.”

“Oh, does it? Really? Since when are you the relationship expert?”

“I’m no expert. I just know she doesn’t seem happy with the current situation, and she deserves to be happy!”

“I make her happy!”

A movement in his periphery drew his attention. He turned to find Riley standing in the doorway watching him. “I gotta go, Li. I’ll talk to you later,” he pressed the end button over Liam’s objections. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

“Riley, I’m sorry-“

“For what?” she asked, “Sounded to me like you had my back.”

Relief swept through him, “Glad you see it that way.”

She made her way into the kitchen looking around for a coffee pot. “So, how’d he find out?” she asked as she rummaged around in the cabinets and started brewing coffee.

“There was an article in the Star…”

“Of course there was,” she shook her head, as she turned to face him “We should have seen that coming.”

“Maybe,” his eyes swept down her body. She was wearing his button-up shirt from the night before and nothing else. “Should I get you back to the palace so you can deal with the fallout?”

She clocked his interest in her attire. A sultry smile lit up her face as she sashayed across the room to wrap her arms around his neck, “I told you last night that I’m not in the mood to go back there right now. Nothing’s changed since then.”

“Okay,” his hands dropped to her waist, “What do you want to do then? I could make breakfast, or…..” his lips trailed down the side of her neck.

“Oh, you’re going to make me breakfast, but I thought we could do….other things while we wait for the coffee.”

“Other things, huh?” His fingers sank into her ass as he lifted her and sat her on the counter, capturing her lips with his as he did so.

Her legs spread open as her hands tugged him forward by the top of his pants. Her teeth sank into his lower lip as she popped the snap on the top of his jeans and lowered his zipper.

“Ow!” His head jerked back a little, but his hands were already helping her push his pants down.

“Sorry!”

“Don’t be sorry! I liked it!” He growled as he lunged for her lips again. His fingers deftly unbuttoned the shirt and then each hand cupped a full, supple breast.

She grasped his very erect cock in her hand and stroked it a little, causing his body to jerk forward. She lined him up with her entrance and scooted to the edge of the counter.

“Don’t you want-“

Her fingers twisted in his hair, “I want you to fuck me, Drake, right now!”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Sinking himself into her, his eyes locked on her face. She threw her head back, moaning loudly as he pounded into her. His eyes dipped down to watch her breasts as they bounced in rhythm with their frenzied lovemaking. His gaze snapped back to her face as she screamed out his name, clenching around him, warm, wet, tight.

“Fuck!” One hand wrapped around her and held her from behind as the other tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as he tumbled over the edge of the abyss after her.

His arms were wrapped around her body, his breathing heavy, forehead resting on hers, still pulsing inside her when they heard the knock on the door.

“Who even knows we’re here?” She blinked up at him.

He pulled out of, and away from her, with a sigh. Reaching down to yank his pants back up he gritted out, “Who do you think?”

Liam must have already been on his way to the cabin when he’d called.

“Shit!” She shrugged back into his shirt, her fingers fumbling shakily at the buttons.

“Here,” he said gently, brushing her hands away and quickly buttoning it up for her. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead before helping her off the counter. “It’s going to be okay,” he told her before turning and heading for the door.

#trr au #the royal romance #trr #the royal romance fanfic #choices fic writers creations #angelasscribbles #cfwc fics of the week #drake walker #trr fandom #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction #victim of love #liam rys

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box-this-lap · 6 months

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F1 Driver's Championship winners who switched teams right after they won it

This post was inspired by a question asked by @vro0m the other day. Although they were asking about drivers who left WCC winning teams, i thought drivers champions who ditched their teams would be interesting as well.

Juan Manuel Fangio, 1956->57; Ferrari->Maserati. (was known to drive for a different team after each of his championship wins up yo this point, but its important to note those times had to do with his teams leaving the sport. The only time it was his decision was 1956->57)

Alberto Ascari, 1953->1954; Ferrari->Lancia (Not paid enough, perhaps on the grounds that he was risking his life)

Denny Hulme, 1967->68; Brabham->McLaren (can't find a source on this one but he was extremely close to Bruce McLaren and had driven for him in other race series. To give an idea of why i think their closeness could have been a factor, he was considered a man of fewer words and emotions than Kimi Raikonen, but openly weeped at Bruces death in 1970 during a testing accident)

Jackie Stewart, 1969->70; Matra->Tyrell (this could be semantic. Matra International was a "privateer" team from 1968->69 which was actually a collab between Tyrell the man and the french company Matra. The name of Stewart's team changes from 69-70 because Tyrell the man prefered maintaining a working relationship with Ford whereas Matra was moving on to Chrysler. Wikipedia articles partially seem to think the Tyrell team is basically a continuation of the Matra International team the year prior since Tyrell the man was technically the team owner of each. Matra however enters a works team in 1970 that also ran one race in 1969 so its confusing. )

Jochen Rindt, Honorable mention; he died in the Italian GP practice in 1970. He had such a big lead he still won the championship in spite of his passing.

Nikki Lauda, 1977->78; Ferrari->Brabham (Nikki's huge accident that almost killed him in the 1976 season changed his outlook on racing in exceptionally poor weather conditions. As a result, he refused to race in the 1976 Japanese GP, and lost the championship to James Hunt in the process. Ferarri was pissed about this and it deteriorated his relationship with Ferrari severely for the 1977 season. After being treated so poorly (even in the driver lineup from his point of view) he decided to leave despite winning the championship. Its important to note however that he's believed to have won by consistency despite the car's outright slower pace, so he might have also had technical concerns)

Nelson Piquet, 1987->88; Williams->Lotus (in 86 and 87 Piquet was racing alongside Nigel Mansel in a WCC winning Williams. According to Piquet he had an agreement with team owner Frank Williams that he would be the number one driver for 86, an agreement he felt was neglected after Frank got in a car accident and left the team in the management of Mansel's race engineer. Specifically, he was upset that Mansel was not ordered to let him pass for the race win on two occasions that year, and had he been let through he would have been champion rather than Alain Prost. The relationship never recovered from that, but for some reason Piquet waited to leave. It is worth noting that he signed for Lotus before winning the 87 championship. Additionally Mansel finished first in more races than him that year but lost because of Piquet's podium consistency)

Alain Prost, 1989->1990; McLaren->Ferrari (ho boy. Long story partially short, Prost believed Honda (engine supplier) favored Senna, and therefore so did McLaren for the 1988-89 seasons, to the point of even giving Senna a better engine in the 1989 season. Supposedly for the 1988 season a Honda employee confirmed the suspicion while speaking to Prost in person, but promised he'd do his best to change that for 89. Prost did not believe this had occured, as he felt his car was underperforming Senna's in 89. His biggest piece of evidence was that while running a better straight-line-speed setup than Senna in Mexico, he still was not being able to pass Senna by engine power on the straight. For Honda's part, they had a major press event where they tried to explain technically why Senna's driving style suited the engine better, but the employee giving the interview kept referring to prost by his surname but not Senna, which is a sign of a stronger personal relationship in Japanese culture and was taken as a sign of bias)

Nigel Mansell, 1992->93; Williams->N/A (retired)

Michael Schumacher, 1995->96; Benneton->Ferrari (Schumacher's official statement is that he abandoned his contract with Benneton a year early due to "the teams damaging actions in 1994" to use wikipedias wording. The teams actions include: software shenanigans where the car was found to have the supposedly unused ability to correct bad manual starts, which would give the driver the ability to have perfect starts regardless of their affectiveness with the clutch; ignoring a black flag for a safety car overtake; and having a skidblock that was so worn down it suggested Benneton was ignoring aero regulations)

Damon Hill, 1996->97; Williams->Arrows (this one doesny count because it was outside of Hill's control, but it's really funny. Williams sacked him in favor of Heinz-Harald Frentzen, whom i have never heard of and apparently would only ever win 3 F1 races in his career. Hill chose Arrows not because they were the best team with an offer, but because they wanted to pay him the most. His career sucked after that)

Fernando Alonso, 2006->2007; Renault->McLaren (wikipedia straight up just doesnt explain this. A reddit thread gives a lot of uncited opinions as to why, but a significantly large number of their users cite that McLaren was seen as a consistently top team in this era while Renault was seen as volitale. With Alonso signing for 2007 as early as late 2005, heres some possible factors: Renault's bizzare lack of commitment to staying in the sport; McLaren winning more races in late 2005 than Renault; Renault's success was partially attributed to weird tire rules).

Jenson Button 2009->10; Brawn->McLaren (Brawn was bought out to become mercedes, but was left to its Brawn leadership to still run the team. Jenson won the championship because of dominance at the beginning that was cut short by not developing the car enough. He still won overall, but Jenson asked for a larger focus on in-season developement for the next year as a condition for staying. Ultimately, he was spoked off when he discovered mercedes didnt have enough sponsors for their plan yet)

Nico Rosberg, 2016->17; Mercedes->N/A (retired)

#f1 #f1 history #nico rosberg #fernando alonso #michael shumacher #damon hill #alain prost #nelson piquet #niki lauda #jochen rindt #jackie stewart #denny hulme #alberto ascari #juan manuel fangio #motorsport #motorsport history #tw death

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baku2017 · 1 year

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thank you @collarboen for the tag !

favorite color: pink and green nowadays

currently reading: horror manga by Junji Ito collecting the short stories with his character Soichi, i'm reading it before gifting it to my brother as one does

last song you listened to: oh no... Train pour Bandol by the keke boys (hate that name) it made me laugh and bandol is where i was last summer on holidays for the french gp, good memories

last series you watched: the green glove gang (not an official translation) a polish mini serie about old women stealing stuff à la robin hood

last movie you watched: triangle of sadness, overall i liked it i'll say

sweet/savory/spicy: savory but i love every food that's not fair

currently working on: finding inspirations for the zinefest exchange

if-you-want-tagging @trailsofpaper @daniel-enchante @pitstopwontstop @flaurre

#i love junji ito very much a lot of his work is getting translated in french for the first time #tag game

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f1 · 1 year

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Newey recalls the last-lap defeat which left Vettel absolutely distraught | RaceFans Round-up

In the round-up: Red Bull’s chief technical officer Adrian Newey describes how Sebastian Vettel reacted to his famous last-lap defeat by Jenson Button in the 2011 Canadian Grand Prix. Join RaceFans on Facebook Don't miss anything from RaceFans - join us on Facebook here to see whenever a new article has been added: In brief Newey recalls podium that hurt Vettel and inspired team Vettel took pole and led all but two laps of the 2011 Canadian Grand Prix. He began the final lap in the lead, but a mistake halfway around the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve allowed McLaren’s Jenson Button through to nab the win “Jenson beat him. And he was absolutely distraught at that because he felt he had not driven as well as he could have done, and therefore he had lost what should have been a dominant win,” Newey recalled in a Red Bull podcast. The defeat made a big impact on Vettel as he pursued his second world championship, Newey explained. “Everybody’s packing up the computers and everything in the engineering office around him while he just sat there going through the data with his engineer, going through the television feeds and stuff. He wanted to understand what he could do better should that situation arise again. “I think that dedication, that played through into the team as well. That meant that then the team often prepared to put in that extra mile because they saw his work and commitment that he was prepared to put in.” Alonso banks on needing extra engine Fernando Alonso has told his new Aston Martin team to plan on needing an extra power unit this year, The Objective reports. While the 2023 F1 calendar has expanded to a record 23 rounds this year, and could increase to 24 if China’s cancelled event is replaced or reinstated, drivers remain limited to a maximum of three power units. Using a fourth will trigger an automatic grid penalty. Alonso got through six Renault power units over the course of 22 events at Alpine last year due to various failures. However he is understood to have been impressed by the performance of the well-used Mercedes power unit in his car when he made his first appearance for Aston Martin during the post-season test at Yas Marina. Alonso will be powered by the three-pointed star this year for the first time since he drove for McLaren in 2007. Hamilton pays tribute to Ken Block Following the death of famous rally driver Ken Block in a snowmobile crash, seven-times F1 world champion Lewis Hamilton joined those paying tribute to the late American on social media. “Today I received news of the loss of a dear friend. I am devastated to hear of Ken Block’s passing. He was such an amazing person, always lived life to the fullest,” he wrote. “I remember our first time working together and how positive he was. So much talent behind the wheel. Years ago we had an amazing time heli skiing and snowboarding in Canada. We held so much respect for one another. He will truly be missed and my thoughts and prayers go to his beautiful family. Gone too soon. Rest in peace, Ken.” R-ace GP reveals FRMEC line-up French team R-ace GP have revealed six drivers for their four-car attack on the Formula Regional Middle East Championship. Two of the drivers, Levente Revesz and Formula 4 graduate Nikhil Bohra, will do all five rounds of the series which runs through January and February. Francesco Braschi and Martinius Stenshorne will share the third car, with Braschi doing the first two rounds and Nicolas Todt’s protege Stenshorne doing the remaining three. In the fourth car, British F4 runner-up Matias Zagazeta will do rounds one to three then hand over to ADAC F4 runner-up Tim Tramnitz. Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free Happy birthday! Happy birthday to Anne Lambert, Timi, Bosley and Gitanes! On this day in motorsport Born on this day in 1989: Future IndyCar race-winner Graham Rahal, son of multiple IndyCar champion and Indianapolis 500 winner Bobby Rahal via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

#F1 #Newey recalls the last-lap defeat which left Vettel “absolutely distraught” | RaceFans Round-up #Formula 1

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lizzyverydizzyyo · 2 years

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D.E.A.N | Chapter 12 - Restart

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive

Fandom : Original Work

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

AO3

A/N hi im back and i fulfill my promise to update to chapter 12 at most by this week. see. i’m a person of my words. pls enjoy and talk to me about my fic.

(also check out the newest oneshot from Nick’s perspective when D.E.A.N still beat him up>> tumblr ao3)

Wordcount: ± 4900

TW : Anorexia (low appetite), Depression, Allusion to Suicidal Ideation (heed to other tags on the overall summary in the masterpost)

The much-needed peace and the truce appear to be on the horizon for Mark, his team, and their estranged charge. Maybe. Hopefully.

This story is set in the last half of 2016.

------

“I can’t fucking believe you’re really making us buy some French macarons and ice cream cake. 40 miles, Mark. 40 fucking miles.”

Marcus chuckles in his passenger seat without looking at Luke, taking a slight peek to the back seat where the juxtaposing weapon and other mission supplies are sitting beside colorful boxes of the sweets.

“It’s your idea. You asked me the locations, and I just put them into our GPS tracker. You’re the one who is taking it seriously and actually driving there.”

Luke shakes his head with pissed off face.

“Maybe we all are having crush on him.”

“Well, congrats on your coming out,” Mark jokes flatly.

Luke giggles. “Fuck you,” he lowly says.

“Getting there fast, huh?” Mark smirks. “I took 7 years after being outed before I fucked a guy for the first time.”

Luke bellows a laughter while repeating ‘fuck you, Mark’ as a response.

There is a comfortable silence for a while, then Luke says with relieved voice, “I’m glad you’re making gay jokes again. Thought he shoved you back into closet, with… you know.”

“Fruity Ken?”

Luke chuckles again, a bit uncomfortable this time. “Yeah.”

“Honestly, ‘fruity’ is already being reclaimed nowadays. It’s kinda funny sometimes.”

Luke laughs loudly again. “Oh, thank fuck. I almost always laughed when he called you that, but I restrained myself ‘cause I thought it’s homophobic.”

“I mean, it is,” Mark gives an agreeing face, “but it’s also creative and hilarious.”

“Can I call you that from now on?” Luke asks with a teasing smile while he focuses on taking a turn, steering the wheel sideways.

“Absolutely fucking not. Reclaimed by me, not you,” Mark replies, looking at the rearview mirror out of habit to see if there are suspicious people following them. “Maybe I’ll change my code name to that on the field, though. ‘Fruity Ken reporting in. Over.’”

Luke cackles again at Mark’s exaggerated field voice until he is breathless while Mark just shakes his head lightly with his own chuckles.

“Honestly, you don’t even look like Ken doll,” Luke quips in absently afterwards.

“I’m blond and have blue eyes.”

Luke looks contemplative. “Yeah, but, I don’t know, man. Ken doll usually has pretty boy face, unlike you.”

Mark doesn’t reply, giving a slight thought to how all the Ken dolls that he has ever encountered look like, not that he really cares. There are not many, so he doesn’t know how they look like, really.

“Like that famous male model, called Francisco something. Kind of.”

“Francisco Lachowski?” Mark offers.

“Yeah. Anyway, if anything, George and Nick himself look more like Ken dolls, but with different hair and eye colors. Maybe because they’re still older adolescent guys. But still, more similar, you know?”

Luke then gives a millisecond glance at Mark’s face as Mark raises an eyebrow in question before returning to looking at the road ahead.

“You look quite masculine. Like, uh…” Luke furrows his eyebrows, “…that actor in that Taylor Swift’s 40s savanna style music video. Dunno what the song’s called. Also the actor’s name. I think he is Clint Eastwood’s son or something.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows in disbelief. “You mean Scott Eastwood? The guy in that suckass Suicide Squad?”

“Is that his name? Whatever, him, yeah. But younger, I guess.”

Mark thinks on it for a bit. “Don’t know if I should feel flattered or not.”

Luke chuckles. “It’s not like I’m comparing you to the grinch, Mark. Take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Mark finally responds with a slight smile.

After another silence lapses, Luke chuckles again before exaggeratedly exhaling loudly like he is so exhausted by the weight of the world.

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into? Thought we were supposed to be special task force assigned to bring down international criminal syndicate.”

“Hmm.”

“Instead, we’re just talking about some fucking plastic dolls and buying pastries from out of state. What’s happened to us?”

Despite that, there is no sharpness in Luke’s voice. It’s more like an affectionate reminiscing voice parents have when talking about their kids’ childhood shenanigans.

“We’re still humans, Luke. The targets we’re dealing with are also humans, unfortunately. Whether we planned it or not, we’re gonna have to deal with human things eventually.”

“True.”

Luke concludes, followed by free and calm silence the whole ride back—the calm that they desperately need after the stifling and stressful atmosphere back in the headquarter lately.

***

Luke is awkwardly pacing back and forth in front of Nick’s bedroom while Mark tries to give him a reassuring thumbs-up to convince him. Anna and Don just shake their heads while Mary and Lena are surreptitiously watching from their spots with bated breath.

It is honestly so funny to see their usual self-assured and ballsy teammate like this. It’s so unbecoming of Luke.

“Mark, you do it!” he finally exclaims.

Mark raises an eyebrow.

“You bought the macarons. You do it.”

Luke frowns. He looks at another direction.

“Horace. You’re our leader. Set an example and give this to him.”

Their commanding officer furrows his eyebrows irritably.

“Uh, no. You came up with the idea.”

“Actually, you did, Horace, few weeks ago when we were looking at his twitter,” Anderson quips in absently as he is eating a piece of the ice cream cake while looking at lines of codes on his laptop.

“I wasn’t serious.”

Anderson slurps loudly as he spoons the melted part into his mouth. “Still.”

Luke perks up. “Anderson, you do it. You took a piece of his cake already. It’s only fair.”

Anderson whips his head to Luke’s direction with a glare. “Absolutely not. He’s probably not going to finish it so I’m just preemptively helping him.”

Luke looks around again to find another victim, then lands on George who is watching the surveillance to Nick’s room.

“You, ginger. You’re the youngest and closest to his age. Give it to him.”

Everyone looks at George with meaningful looks and slowly blooming mischievous smiles.

George raises his head and slowly looks around in confusion. “What? Why are you all looking at me?”

Luke rolls his eyes and walks to George confidently, seeing as he already finds his victim. The older man puts the box of macarons on George’s lap.

“Give it to him. He probably tolerates you the most.”

George frowns as he isn’t asked of his opinion. “But—”

“Come on. He is so depressed and hasn’t eaten anything in the last few days,” Luke tells him with intentionally gentle and pleading voice.

George stares at him with irritated look for few seconds, then sighs and stands up while holding the box to walk to Nick’s bedroom.

Luke punches the air in victory while exclaiming, “Yesss!”

George looks back unsurely at the room where his fellow agents are lounging around, then knocks the door.

“Hey, bud. Can I come in? We have some snack for you.”

Like usual, George doesn’t get a response, so he just softly opens the door and walks in. Everyone then turns to look at the surveillance monitor instead with bated breath again.

George is inside, his voice carries over in static voice to cajole Nick to get up and eat the snack at least a little bit. He tries a little bit more for a while, but Nick stays lying down with soulless eyes and dried tear streaks that he weirdly cries silently and emptily sometimes.

Eventually, George sighs and throws a little look at the surveillance camera before putting the box of pastries on the bedside table. Then he walks out and closes the door gently behind him.

Everyone looks at him questioningly while George just shrugs. A chorus of dejected sighs follows after.

***

The next day, someone draws a circle of with those anti-ant chalk around the box of macarons and the plate of food considering they notice some ants crawling around the bedside table.

Nick still just lays down, this time with tears flowing from his eerily unmoving face.

Mark just sighs when he puts down a glass of new water to replace the glass of tepid one from yesterday.

“I feel like maybe we need Doctor Lowe to prescribe him some anti-depressants or something,” Angie says to him as he closes the door behind him. “He’s starving himself, either because he really has no appetite or intentionally because he doesn’t want to live anymore.”

Mark rubs the bridge of his nose.

“He doesn’t even eat. How are we supposed to make him take anti-depressant? He didn’t even take his previous meds, even some of the antibiotics.”

Angie throws her hands in the air in frustration. “Well, what are we supposed to do, then?”

Mark slumps back against the door.

“Talk to him, maybe. I don’t know.”

“He doesn’t exactly talk back, Mark.”

He looks around to his teammates who are in the room with him. “I know, but we’re running out of options. Even anti-depressant will take weeks to take effect.”

Angie, Mark, and Luke then train their marksmanship in their makeshift shooting range to distract themselves eventually, the air still tense with concerns.

When Mark walks into the team room again—which is less of a room and more like a giant hallway functioning as their ‘living room’ where most of their other rooms are connected to—he sees Mary, Anderson, and Horace hunched over their digital touchscreen map on the high-tech table, and they also look distracted. Anna, Lena, George, and Don are nowhere to be found, probably exercising or training their martial arts with each other in the gym.

He looks again towards the door of Nick’s bedroom, contemplating shortly.

Maybe, like he said, they all need to verbally apologize to him and assure him they’re not his enemies to make him come out of his funk. So, Mark walks there firmly, continuously reassuring himself that he is doing the right thing.

He can feel the stares of his fellow agents, but he walks on until he is near the door. He inhales and knocks gently before opening the door.

Just as usual, Nick doesn’t react at all as he just lays down on the bed with his typical thousand-yards stare.

“Hey, Nick?”

Of course, he is not going to get a response.

“How are you feeling? You haven’t eaten anything lately. Aren’t you hungry?”

Mark then walks near the bed while pulling a chair to sit.

“Do you… do you not like the food? Is there something else you’d like instead?”

Nick doesn’t move or make a sound, just does a half-blink, probably instinctually because his eyes are getting dry.

Even with the colorful irises, his eyes look so dark and empty.

“I’m…,” Mark gulps, “I’m sorry. For my harsh words. I was… I was angry.”

Of course, he was. Everything rash he did lately was because he was angry. Maybe he should learn better anger management techniques.

“You’re not… you’re not a coward. You’re just reacting how anyone would react when treated so badly all the time. Anyone would be scared, but also bitter.”

He inhales.

“I mean, I don’t appreciate your insults to us. Some of them went too far, you know? I hope you don’t actually mean those. Would be a shame if you’re actually a bigot.”

Shit, why would he say accusing thing like that?

“I…I mean, I’m sure you’re not, right? You’re just frustrated and feels stuck and imprisoned by us. The only safe thing you can do to feel like you have control is verbally hurting us.”

He looks at Nick’s swirly blue-brown eyes that are so deeply etched in his mind by now. Either though guilt and shock after almost taking Nick’s life, or sympathy and sadness for him when he kept reading about Nick’s previous life before being taken. And, also for all the time he was trying to take care of Nick while badly ill.

Of course, he can’t forget the deep fury and also sorrow filling his eyes as he kept throwing stuff at Mark several days ago, when he finally hit the most vulnerable part in Nick’s heart.

“I’m truly sorry. I’ve forgiven you for your words because I understand why. I think the others are willing to do that too.”

Maybe, or maybe some of them still hold resentment despite being sympathetic with Nick. He hopes they’re still willing to offer an olive branch to Nick anyway.

“I hope you’re willing to forgive us too.” He contemplates a little bit more. “Forgive me too.”

There is something clenching his heart achingly when he stares at Nick’s surrendered and lifeless eyes. Those colorful eyes are supposed to be filled with youthful spirit and hope for the future, not soulless like this.

“I don’t want you to give up, whatever pain you’re feeling right now. I don’t want you to punish yourself or hurt yourself like this.”

Mark stares at Nick’s body for a while, then slowly and jerkily reaches out a hand to touch Nick’s shoulder to squeeze it slightly in reassuring manner.

Mark gives a slight smile. “Get better soon, okay?”

Somehow, what Mark did inspires the others to sneakily goes into Nick’s room in the coming days to give their own heartfelt words with wish for peace and reciprocal forgiveness.

He hears Luke says, “Hey, kid, I didn’t like your racist tone before, but even the most horrendous people deserve second chance, you know? I know you’re a good kid. Sorry if we pushed you to the point of saying something that horrible just to release your hurt.”

Lena says something quite similar, while Horace says, “I feel like I’m not being a good leader, especially since I can’t make you get better. Just give me one thing so that I don’t feel like our previous commanding officer chose the wrong person. Please.”

Mary and George try to playfully tease Nick, saying that they were very nice to him and took care at him really well, so can he please be nice to them both at least and not make them feel crazy for talking to themselves?

The next day, Anderson tells him, begrudgingly, that he is sorry for roughing him up before. “I feel like you’re the only smart person here who won’t make me feel like I’m an underpaid tech guy helping a grandma find a power button. Just hang out with me, okay?”

Angie is a little bit more stilted, but she still tries to be earnest in her apology.

And, of course, Don and Anna have to be pushed bodily into the bedroom to apologize. And even then, they only give begrudging kindergarten-kid style of apologies with only, “Sorry we were mean,” before getting out and hissing that they apologized already.

For a while, they thought it wouldn’t work, but as they lose hope, there is rustling sound from the surveillance monitor few days later. They all immediately turn their heads towards it.

They see Nick weakly pushing his own body up to sitting position as he stares at his bedside table. He stays still for a while before shakily reaching out a hand to grab the box with his arm that isn’t still in arm sling.

He stares at it again before putting the bottom part of the box against his left palm, then he slowly pulls the upper part covering the box with slight difficulty as his left arm isn’t as mobile as the other one. He winces several times while painstakingly pulling it.

Everyone is watching the monitor with bated breath and slight smile blooming on their face.

Nick finally opens the box and gently put the upper covering down next to his thighs on the bed. He stares a little bit at the content of the pastries box filled with slightly collapsed snacks, as they were left out uneaten for days.

Unexpectedly, Nick’s face scrunches up into weeping face and he chokes out sobs instead. He bows down his head to his bent right knee with an arm wrapped around his knee and his head, like his usual position when he was still in their holding cell. His shoulder shakes repeatedly in time with his sobs as he audibly cries.

“What?” Anderson exclaims.

Now they look puzzled.

Angie turns to Mark as they both have puzzled look and furrowed eyebrows. “I thought you said he likes French macarons.”

“Well, yeah,” Mark replies unsurely, “his social medias are filled with cats and French macarons. Besides coding and high school stuff. He even said he can bake it.”

“Then why the hell is he crying like he is looking at his dead family?” Luke asks pointedly.

“I…I don’t know.”

As their confusion goes on, Nick surprisingly takes one of the colorful pastries, even as he continues shaking and hiccupping in tears, then bites it carefully. He then sobs hard again.

“What the fuck is going on?” Don asks, puzzled and irritated.

“Does he have trauma with macarons or something?” Lena questions.

Luke blanches. “Shit, maybe we’re making it worse.”

Mark instinctively stands up and walks on to Nick’s bedroom, knocking gently like usual before opening the door.

Unlike before when Nick didn’t ever react, he now looks up with wet face and tearful eyes that make his swirly blue-brown eyes look more… ethereal and heartstring-pulling.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are they bad? Do you not like it?”

Nick tries to open his mouth, but he is sobbing too hard to talk, so Mark walks slowly and sits on the nearest chair. He waits patiently for a while as Nick is visibly trying to control his sobbing, hiccupping repeatedly.

Finally, he says, “I haven’t had this in years.”

He tries to rub his face and erase his tears, failing miserably. So, he just keeps crying while looking at Mark.

Mark has never thought he would ever hear it from the boy, but Nick does say with tearful, but slightly smiling and grateful face,

“Thank you.”

***

Nick has started to eat the food brought to him, now going back to pureed food again under advisement of Doctor Lowe to prevent refeeding syndrome. They also put his prescribed multivitamins and other supplement to help him get better, along with some anti-depressant and anxiety medications that Nick now takes dutifully.

He still doesn’t eat much, probably trying to get used to normal food and its portion after getting starved for so long.

The half-Asian boy doesn’t talk much either, but he does give small smile every once in while as new food and medication are brought to him.

The environment seems a little less stiff now. Some of them even sometimes stay after giving him food and new clothes to tell him stories about their mission or absently explaining some intel to him, not really expecting him to understand or respond.

Sometimes Nick looks raptly at them, or he looks down almost close to tears again, which they now understand as him feeling a little too reminiscent of his time in Helga, so they change the subject to something domestic like talking about cooking, their dislike towards standard D.E.A.N prepackaged instant foods, or some chores they like to do.

Sometimes he still cries silently and has lower appetite again, or worse yet, he stares off into the wall with dissociated eyes like before.

Some of them, like Don, Anna, Angie, Anderson, and George, don’t really have the patience to sit through Nick’s crying fit and dissociated state, so they stop going to his room to talk to him and are just back to doing whatever they were doing before as they entrust Nick’s wellbeing to the rest, including Mark.

At some point, when Nick looks less sad, they look at their fridge randomly. They find that they still have some of their ice cream cake left. So, Mark, Lena, Luke, Horace, and Mary impulsively decide to bring it with some candle—their usual one for emergency or blackout which is the only ones they have, so it’s pretty big for the cake—to Nick’s bedroom.

Nick is looking down at his fiddling fingers, now that his arm is out of the sling, but he looks up in surprise to see more people than usual at once.

“Happy belated 21st birthday!” they all exclaim to him.

Nick looks surprised but he unsurely and slightly smiles.

“You don’t… you don’t have to burden yourself like this.”

Lena says with beaming smile says, “Nonsense. It’s a 21st birthday. It’s supposed to be special.”

“Yeah, but sorry, we ate some of it. We haven’t had sweets in a while in the mission,” Mark tells him absently.

“Anderson mostly ate it, though, not us,” Luke quips in.

“I heard that! Asshole!” they hear Anderson from the outside yelling at them, presumably listening and watching the live feed to Nick’s surveillance camera.

Nick giggles a little, the sound sending a jolt of… something delightful in Mark’s heart. He brushes it off.

“Oh, that’s a lot. I can’t finish them,” he says with small voice, seemingly still not confident and calm in their midst.

“Well, there are 6 of us here,” Horace says. “The others don’t get to eat some, though. They didn’t want to come in with us.”

“Happy diabetes, then, bastards,” Anna exclaims this time.

Ignoring the cynic, Lena puts the plastic covering on the bedside table as they open the lid and pulls a plastic knife with some paper plates. They cut the remaining cake, thankfully still over a half of it, to six roughly equal pieces.

“Here, the birthday boy gets it first.” Lena hands one piece on a paper plate to Nick.

“I think… that was a long time ago already,” he quietly murmurs.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still the birthday boy,” they reply as they try to steady Nick’s slightly trembling hands. “OH! Wait!”

Everyone looks at Lena in question.

“Make a wish and blow the candle first!”

Nick looks questioningly at them with unsure face, staring warily to the candle.

“Um, okay.”

He still stares unsurely a little bit, some slight fear even visible in his eyes that makes the others look doubtful about the candle. Maybe he has some traumatizing memory with candle.

Still, he eventually inhales deeply before leaning forward anyway with shaky smile, then blows the large candle. He has to blow several times as the air he blows is quite weak, up until the third blow that completely snuffs the flame.

“Yay! Congrats, here is to a better 21st birthday celebration and so on!”

Nick smiles again at Lena, now finally receiving the cake piece completely in his hands. Everyone follows suit one by one to receive the cake piece. Few of them gently sit on the side of the bed due to lack of chairs.

“You guys really don’t have to do this. I feel like I’m taking important time for your work.”

Mark looks at him with genuine smile. “It’s for us too, to be honest. Sometimes it's so tense and stressful. Having a nice fun time like this every once in a while is something that we need.”

He hears a chorus of ‘Yeah, true’ from his fellow agents.

After a while of comfortable silence, Nick puts down his plate on his laps with some of the slightly melted cake left. There is contemplating and slightly frowning look on his face.

Everyone looks at each other before pausing their eating.

“I’m sorry, for being vile to all of you.”

There is soft look on their faces.

“You’re right,” Nick looks particularly at Mark for a bit, “that I want to take out my years of frustration, and you know, those two weeks frustration too,” he chuckles a little but schools his expression again when the others look uncomfortable, “on someone, anyone. I just, kept it all in for survival, but I was dying to get it off my chest for once.”

Mark and his teammates look serenely at Nick.

“I was so bad to all of you, trying to find what hurt all of you the most. I was just so sick of being hurt that I want to do it back to someone.”

He is silent as he thinks more, so they wait patiently.

“It’s ironic, actually, what I said to four of you, specifically,” He looks at Luke, Horace, Lena, and Mark.

“Not that what I called you isn’t bad,” he quickly adds facing Mary.

“But, you know, I’m half Vietnamese—also, half Russian, in case you can’t tell from my full name—and I had other kids telling me to ‘go back to your country, you ugly communist!’”

“Ouch,” Horace responds emphatically.

Mark looks forlorn on behalf of Nick at his exaggerated voice reminiscing his childhood bullying. Then, he furrows his eyebrows.

“Wait, why ironic with me and Lena?”

Nick spoons around the melted cake absently as he looks down.

“Are you gay?” Lena asks, sounding slightly shocked.

“Not gay,” he mutters, “Bi.”

Mark smiles smugly and surreptitiously at Luke. Luke just rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, you have a good gaydar, yada yada yada,” Luke jokingly says.

Nick looks at Mark through his lashes. “You knew?”

“Just got the vibe from your last tweet.”

Luke interjects playfully, “Because he has crush on you and is trying to find out if he has a chance with you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Luke. I’m not that unethical.”

They all chuckle, as Nick just smiles slightly, giving a millisecond look at Mark.

Mark blinks and looks away with a gulp. Of course, he is not going to be that unethical.

Right?

“Anyway,” Mary quips in, “I know you were trying to be mean with me, but I’m not too offended, actually, because my family used to call me barbie. You know, as a way to call me pretty.”

He eyes Mary a little contemplatively.

“I mean, yeah, you’re very pretty for a specialized task force agent,” Nick jokes.

“Thanks,” Mary beams. “I’m just offended you keep confusing me with Angie, sometimes you called me Plastic Barbie One, but sometimes Two. Makes me feel very forgettable.”

Nick looks down in shame. “Sorry.”

“I’m kidding.” Mary giggles.

Something comes up in Mark’s mind.

“But, you do know the difference between Mary and Angie, right?”

“Um,” Nick spoons the melted cream a little more frantically this time, “I know you both have different hair length. And you’re the younger one.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s not like we’re ever formally introduced ourselves. I’m Mary,” she points at herself, “and this one is Luke,” she points at the older man with dark skin, “and this one is Horace, our commanding officer,” she now points at their tall Latino leader, “and this—”

“Wait, I thought the captain is you,” Nick interjects while looking at Luke.

Everyone is suddenly feeling awkward and uncomfortable with the unsaid contention that Nick now blatantly points out.

Luke raises his hands as a placating movement, saying hurriedly, “Oh no, not me. Horace is our commanding officer. Also, he is older than me anyway.”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t know,” Nick says apologetically and widens his eyes, before continuing, “I think I remember vaguely something about you being chosen by the previous one. I forgot, I’m so sorry!”

Horace gives a smile, even if there is something forced on the edge, “It’s all right, kid. We’re all supposed to be equal teammates anyway.”

Not really, not with Jackson before, Mark thinks but he keeps his mouth shut.

“And you’re Lena, I remember that. You’re the one who takes care of me often,” he finally looks at Lena, earning a wide smile from them as they realize Nick acknowledges them the most.

“You know who his name is?” Luke now asks, pointing at Mark.

“Something starting with M, I think?” he says, cocking his head to the side.

Mark is too focused at staring at Nick’s colorful eyes that he has to have Luke elbow him to refocus his attention.

“Your name,” Luke says with meaningful stare.

“Uh, yeah. Marcus. Or Mark. Whichever really.”

Nick looks a little bashful, making him appear… sweet. Kind of.

What the fuck is happening to him?

“Um, hi. Mark. Sorry I threw stuff at you.”

Mark waves it off, partly to pull his thought out of his musing. “It’s fine. Wasn’t too bad. It stopped aching like two days later.”

They continue eating the cake, lightly commenting on the taste and how much or little they like the dessert. They also ask Nick if he likes the macarons, which he does, but he says that he likes his own baked pastries usually, even if the ingredients are expensive.

Eventually, they all finish their cake and are starting to stack the plates and cutleries to throw out the one-time-use items and bring the rest to the kitchen sink. Nick offers to help, but they insist that he just rests instead.

He seems to want to insist anyway, but his eyes look half-lidded, so they tell him to just nap, then they leave him to sleep in his room on his own.

Ten minutes later, Mark sees from the surveillance monitor that Nick’s eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls steadily.

“‘Wasn’t too bad. It stopped aching like two days later,’ huh? Trying to impress him with your strength or something?” Luke teases him.

Mark just shakes his head with a ‘fuck you, Luke’, which the older man responds with a cackle.

***

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

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