Summary: Carlos's parents are already treating you like you are already married to his son
Song: Memories – David Guetta
Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🤭🫶
Word count: 2.4k
MASTERLIST - F1
The scent of rosemary, garlic, and roasting lamb always hit you the moment the heavy wooden front gates clicked shut behind you.
It was an olfactory embrace, a herald of warmth that had, over the last three years, become synonymous with Sunday afternoons in Madrid.
You stood in the cobblestone courtyard, brushing a stray leaf off your coat, when the main door flew open before you even had a chance to raise your hand to the brass knocker.
"¡Pero mira nada más!"
Reyes Vázquez de Castro—Reyes, though to you she was rapidly becoming Mamá whether you officially signed off on the title or not—swept down the steps, her silver bracelets jangling a frantic, joyful rhythm.
Before you could even drop your bag, strong, flour-dusted arms enveloped you, pressing you against a cashmere sweater that always smelled faintly of expensive jasmine and homemade croquetas.
"Look at you, cariño," Reyes chided gently, pulling back to cup your face in both hands, her dark eyes scanning you with a clinical, maternal worry. "You’re too thin. Does Carlos not feed you? I swear, that boy is so obsessed with telemetry and bicycle rides, he forgets that humans require actual sustenance. Come inside, immediately. It’s freezing."
Behind you, Carlos groaned, though there was a fond, lopsided smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He hoisted your weekend duffel bag over one shoulder and his own backpack over the other.
"Mamá, we’ve been here for precisely ten seconds, and you’re already launching a character assassination campaign against me," Carlos said, stepping into the foyer and leaning down to drop a kiss on his mother’s cheek. "And she is not too thin. She looks completely normal."
"Quiet, mi amor," Reyes waved him off dismissively, already untying your scarf with practiced efficiency. "Go wash your hands. Both of you. Lunch is in twenty minutes, and your father has been pacing the patio like an expectant father waiting outside a delivery room just because you mentioned last week that you liked the new wine he bought."
You offered Carlos a sympathetic, amused look as he rolled his eyes. He caught your hand, giving your fingers a warm, reassuring squeeze before heading down the hall toward the powder room, leaving you to the tender mercies of the Sainz matriarch.
If there was a transition period where you felt like an outsider—a polite guest walking on eggshells in the orbit of racing royalty—it had vanished somewhere around the eighteen-month mark.
Now, you weren't just Carlos’s partner. In the eyes of Reyes and El Matador himself, Carlos Sainz Sr., you were a permanent fixture. A structural pillar.
Take, for instance, the seating chart.
When you walked into the sun-drenched dining room twenty minutes later, you headed instinctively toward the seat you usually occupied. But Reyes stopped you with a soft gasp.
"No, no, vida mia, not there today," Reyes said, guiding you by the elbow toward the head of the table, directly to the right of Carlos Sr. "Today you sit here. I want you close so I can make sure you eat the vegetables, and besides, Carlos talks too much about aerodynamics if he sits beside you; you are a bad influence, you let him ramble."
You laughed, sliding into the plush leather chair. "I encourage his passions, Reyes. It’s called being a supportive partner."
"It’s called being an enabler," Carlos Sr. rumbled warmly from the end of the table, looking up from carving the leg of lamb with surgical precision.
He flashed that impossibly charming, crinkly-eyed smile that had graced a thousand magazine covers. "How was the flight, hija? Did the seat have enough legroom? You tell me if Carlos booked you in economy again and I will have a word with him about family priorities."
"It was fine, Papa," you smiled, using the moniker that had slipped out naturally a year ago during a particularly boisterous family dinner involving too much Rioja. "Carlos booked us business. He behaves himself when you’re watching."
"He knows better than not to," Carlos Sr. chuckled, sliding a heavily laden plate in your direction before his own son even had a plate.
This was how it always went.
You watched as Carlos sat down diagonally from you, shooting you an expression that was half-pout, half-amusement.
He was a multi-million-dollar global sports icon, a Ferrari Formula 1 driver adored by millions, but under this roof, he was perpetually treated like a slightly incompetent golden retriever who needed adult supervision.
"So," Carlos Sr. said, wiping his hands on a linen napkin and pouring a generous splash of deep red Ribera del Duero into your glass. "The extension. We hear things in the paddock, but we want the truth from the source. Are we house-hunting in Maranello yet, or are we staying put in Madrid for the foreseeable future?"
You paused, your fork hovering over a roasted potato. You glanced across the table at Carlos.
The topic of long-term real estate—and long-term everything, really—had been danced around gently over the past few months.
You lived together in Madrid, of course, sharing a sleek apartment that was perpetually cluttered with your books and his racing simulators. But marriage, children, permanent roots… they were heavy concepts, weighted by his grueling schedule and the chaotic, nomadic life of the F1 circus.
Or so you had thought.
Before Carlos could even open his mouth to answer his father, Reyes chimed in, leaning forward across the table with an expression of intense, conspiratorial focus.
"Well, obviously they are staying in Madrid eventually," Reyes stated as if it were a law of physics. "You think I am going to let my grandchildren grow up in Italy where they will only eat pasta and learn how to gesture with their hands? No. They need to be raised here. And as for the house—Carlos, you take too long to make decisions. I told you months ago, the property down the road from us in Puerta de Hierro, the one with the garden? I’ve already spoken to the agent. If you two don't want it, I'm buying it anyway to use as a guest house, but really, it has the perfect nursery setup."
Silence descended on the table for a fraction of a second.
You choked slightly on your wine, coughing into your napkin as your face burned. Across the table, Carlos froze mid-chew, his fork clattering softly against his porcelain plate.
"Mamá," Carlos said, his voice pitching up an octave in that distinctly defensive way he only used with his parents. "Did you just… are you house-hunting for us? Again? We haven't even—we haven't even discussed nurseries!"
"Why discuss what is mathematically inevitable?" Reyes waved a dismissive hand, entirely unbothered. She turned her attention back to you, her expression softening into pure, unconditional adoration.
"Look at her, Carlos. Look at how well she fits at this table. She handles your moods when you retire in Q1, she manages your PR disasters with actual grace, and she has the patience of a saint. If you are stupid enough not to lock this down permanently by the end of the year, I am cutting you out of my will and adopting her instead."
Carlos Sr. burst out laughing, leaning back in his chair and raising his glass in a silent toast to his wife. "She has a point, hijo. Smartest woman in Spain, your mother."
You buried your face in your hands, mortified yet fighting back a massive, traitorous grin. "Reyes, please, I love you, but you’re going to give him a heart attack before he even gets to the Bahrain Grand Prix."
"Let him stress!" Reyes scoffed good-naturedly. "Stress is good for drivers, keeps them sharp. But seriously, cariño," she reached out, patting your hand affectionately. "You know you are already a Sainz in this house. The paperwork is just a formality for tax purposes at this point."
Carlos stared at his mother, then slowly shifted his gaze toward you. The teasing light in his eyes had softened into something much deeper, much quieter, beneath the gentle chaos of the dining room.
Later that afternoon, the sun dipped low behind the terracotta roofs of the estate, casting long, golden shadows across the sprawling back garden.
The men had retreated to the patio with cigars and espresso—though Carlos Sr. was currently attempting to teach his son a new technique for grilling padrón peppers, much to Carlos's polite skepticism.
You sat on a cushioned wicker lounger on the veranda, a shawl draped over your shoulders, watching them through the glass pane before Reyes materialized with a fresh pot of chamomile tea.
"He loves you, you know," Reyes said softly, pouring the amber liquid into a delicate porcelain cup and handing it to you. "Even when he is stubborn and thinks he knows everything about apexes and braking zones."
"I know he does," you murmured, blowing gently across the steaming rim. "Sometimes I just… it moves so fast. Your family treats me like we've been married for a decade."
Reyes sat down in the chair beside you, folding her hands in her lap. Her gaze drifted out toward her husband and son, a tender smile touching her lips.
"When Carlos was a little boy, racing karts all over Europe, I worried constantly," Reyes confessed quietly. "His father was away, I was away, or we were both stressed, living out of suitcases, eating cold sandwiches in paddock garages. It is a lonely life, querida. Even surrounded by thousands of people, a driver is very often alone."
She turned her dark, perceptive eyes to you.
"And then you came along. Suddenly, when he calls me after a race—whether he wins or whether he crashes on lap one—his voice sounds… grounded. He is home, even when he is thousands of miles away. You are his anchor. In this family, we do not wait for pieces of paper to tell us who belongs to us. You belonged here the first time you looked at him and didn't laugh when he started explaining the difference between downforce and drag during dinner."
You let out a soft, watery laugh, feeling a tight, warm knot form in your chest. "That was a very long lecture."
"It was torture," Reyes agreed brightly. "And you survived it. That is true love."
She patted your knee, stood up briskly, and smoothed down her skirt. "Now, finish your tea. Carlos is looking over here like he’s afraid I’m stealing your soul, and frankly, he needs to learn how to ask you himself."
With a wink, Reyes strode back toward the men, leaving you alone with the gentle evening breeze and the hum of the Madrid countryside.
A minute later, heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel path. The screen door clicked open, and Carlos stepped out onto the veranda.
He was jacketless, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the faint scent of woodsmoke and coffee clinging to him.
He didn't say anything at first. He just walked over, leaning his hip against the edge of the stone railing beside your chair, looking down at you with a gaze that made your breath hitch, no matter how many years you’d been together.
"What were you and my mother conspiring about?" he asked, though his tone was laced with amusement. "She looked entirely too pleased with herself."
"She was just threatening to adopt me and write you out of the will," you replied smoothly, taking a sip of your tea. "Standard Sunday afternoon activities."
Carlos let out a low huff of laughter, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked down at his shoes for a moment, suddenly finding the rustic floorboards fascinating, before shifting his weight.
"She’s not entirely wrong, you know," he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing its teasing edge.
You looked up, your heart skipping a beat. "About the will?"
"About everything else," Carlos said quietly. He reached down, taking the delicate teacup gently from your fingers and setting it aside on the small side table. Then, he crouched down beside your chair, bringing himself to eye level, his calloused hands resting on the arms of the lounger, effectively caging you in with warmth.
"Carlos…" you breathed.
"Mamá is a force of nature, and she’s embarrassing, and she has probably already picked out a china pattern she saw in a catalog from 1994," Carlos said, a self-deprecating smile touching his mouth. "And she’s right. She’s right about all of it."
He reached out, his warm thumb gently tracing your jawline, his touch achingly tender.
"We’ve talked about it, yeah, but… I’ve been waiting for the right moment. Waiting for a weekend off, waiting for the season to end, waiting for some kind of magical stillness that doesn't really exist in my world."
He shook his head slightly, his dark eyes fierce and absolute as they locked onto yours. "But my parents… they treat you like my wife because, in my head, you already are. You’ve been my home for a long time."
The distant clatter of silverware from the kitchen and the murmur of his father’s voice faded into white noise. The cold evening air didn't reach you anymore, blocked out entirely by the heat radiating off him.
"Are you proposing to me while leaning against a wicker chair on your parents' patio, Carlos Sainz Jr.?" you whispered, a disbelieving, radiant smile breaking across your face. "How very romantic of you."
"Hey," he protested softly, though a flush crept up his neck. "Give me some credit. I was going to wait for a beach in Mallorca or a nice dinner in Milan. But Mamá has been interrogating me about nurseries for the last three hours, and frankly, if I don't lock this down tonight, she’s going to propose to you for me."
You laughed, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, lifting you slightly in his enthusiasm.
"Yes," you murmured against his skin. "Obviously, yes."
From inside the house, muffled through the double-glazed French doors, came the sound of sharp, triumphant clapping and a very enthusiastic shout of Spanish celebration.
Carlos pulled back just enough to press his forehead against yours, rolling his eyes as he heard his mother cheering through the glass.
"I love you," he murmured, kissing you softly, thoroughly, sealing it against the noise of the family that had already claimed you long before you even knew it yourself. "And for the record… I’m telling Mamá we are picking the house with the bigger garden."
Hiii I’ve been loving your fics. I was wondering if I could please request a Carlos fic where his little daughter is literally his shadow and is always glued to him and maybe if you’d like to include a wag you could include something about how Rebecca always has a really hard time whenever she needs to take their daughter away from Carlos for example when he has to go race or for like a press/interviews
Like a duckling [CS55]
Summary: Yn hates being separated from her Papá. It's almost like the world is ending for her
Authors Note: Thank you to this user for the lovely request. I hope you alm enjoy this story as much as I do!💙
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The sun is warm but not unbearable, the kind that sits gently on skin and makes everything feel slower, softer. The café terrace is busy in that quiet paddock way. Sunglasses, iced coffees sweating onto saucers, the low hum of conversations mixing languages without anyone really noticing.
Rebecca shifts Yn higher on her hip, pressing a kiss into her daughter’s curls. Yn doesn’t respond.
Normally, this would be her favorite part of the day.
“Mi amor,” Rebecca murmurs softly, brushing her thumb along Yn’s chubby cheek. “Look, Carmen’s here.”
Carmen looks up from her coffee immediately, eyes lighting up. “Hola, princesa,” she says warmly, switching to Spanish without thinking. “¿Quieres venir con tía Carmen?”
Yn usually would. Usually, she’d wriggle free, toddle over, climb straight into Carmen’s lap and chatter away in her mix of toddler Spanish and nonsense sounds. But today, Yn only tightens her grip on Rebecca’s shirt, her little face scrunched into a pout so deep it looks practiced.
Her bottom lip trembles.
Rebecca sighs quietly.
“She’s still upset,” she says apologetically.
Carmen reaches out anyway, gently tickling Yn’s foot. “Ay, pobrecita. Still missing Papá?”
Yn sniffles and buries her face into her mother’s shoulder.
Across the table, Lily leans forward, resting her chin in her hands. “That bad, huh?”
Rebecca lets out a small, helpless laugh. “Carlos went to press half an hour ago. You’d think I dropped her off at boarding school.”
“It’s because she’s literally his shadow,” Kika says fondly, sipping her drink. “I swear, I’ve never seen a child more attached.”
“That’s an understatement,” Rebecca replies.
Yn Sainz, three years old, curly-haired, brown-eyed, stubborn in the exact same way her father is, is not just attached to Carlos. She is glued to him. If Carlos stands, she stands. If he walks, she waddles behind him as fast as her short legs allow. If he sits, she climbs. If he disappears, even for a moment, the world might as well be ending.
Carlos encourages it too much.
He carries her everywhere. On his shoulders through the paddock, balanced on one arm while talking to engineers, perched on his lap during meetings when no one dares to say a word. Yn loves it. Loves being close, loves tangling her fingers in his hair, loves pressing her cheek to his neck and whispering secrets only he is allowed to hear.
Rebecca has learned, over time, that separating them is an emotional operation requiring planning, patience, and usually tissues.
Today was no different.
Carlos had crouched in front of Yn before leaving, holding her tiny hands in his big ones.
“Papá has to go talk for a little bit,” he’d said gently. “I’ll be back, okay?”
Yn’s eyes had immediately filled with tears.
“No,” she’d said firmly, shaking her head. “Papá come.”
“I know, cariño,” Carlos had whispered, pulling her into his chest. “I know.”
Rebecca remembers the way his jaw tightened, the way he’d closed his eyes for a second like physically walking away hurt him. It always does.
Now, sitting at the café, Rebecca feels like she’s carrying half a heartbreak in her arms.
Lily tries next. She slides her chair closer and opens her arms. “Do you want a cuddle with Lily?”
Yn peeks up briefly, eyes red and glassy, considers it, then shakes her head and hides again.
Kika pulls a silly face. Nothing.
Carmen hums a soft Spanish lullaby. Yn sniffles harder.
Rebecca rubs slow circles on her daughter’s back. “She’ll calm down,” she says, though she doesn’t fully believe it. “She just needs time.”
“She’s like a little duckling,” Lily says softly. “Imprinted and everything.”
Rebecca smiles sadly. “Tell me about it.”
Minutes pass. Coffee cools. Conversation continues around them, but Rebecca barely hears it. Yn stays quiet now, not crying, just sulking. The worst kind of sadness. Her arms are locked around her mother’s neck, her head resting heavily against Rebecca’s shoulder like the weight of missing someone is too much for her small body.
Then, suddenly, Yn stiffens.
Rebecca feels it before she sees it.
Yn lifts her head. Her eyes dart past the table, past Carmen, past the street.
“Papá,” Yn breathes.
Rebecca turns.
Carlos is walking toward them.
He’s still in his team polo, sunglasses perched on his head, phone in one hand. He looks tired in that post-press way, shoulders slightly tense, jaw tight, until his eyes land on Yn.
Everything softens instantly.
There is nothing subtle about the way his face changes.
“Hey,” he says, stopping mid-step.
Yn lets out a small gasp, like she’s been holding her breath the entire time.
“Papá!” she squeaks.
Before Rebecca can even react, Yn is wiggling free, practically launching herself out of her arms. She stumbles for half a second, tiny legs moving too fast, and then she’s running.
Carlos drops his phone without caring.
He crouches just in time.
Yn crashes into him, arms flinging around his neck, face burying into his shoulder with a sobby sound that breaks something deep in his chest.
“Hey, hey,” Carlos murmurs instantly, wrapping her up tight. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Yn clings to him like he might disappear again if she loosens her grip.
“Papá go,” she says shakily.
“I know,” he whispers, pressing his cheek to her hair. “I’m sorry, cariño. Papá’s back now.”
Rebecca watches from her chair, heart aching and melting all at once.
Carlos lifts Yn easily, settling her on his hip. She immediately tucks herself closer, one arm around his neck, the other gripping his shirt like an anchor. Her tears slow, then stop completely, replaced by quiet sniffles and deep, calming breaths.
“Better now,” Carmen says softly, smiling.
Carlos glances up, a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” Rebecca replies gently. “She’s been like this the whole time.”
Carlos looks down at Yn, thumb brushing under her eye. “That bad, hm?”
Yn nods seriously, her face still pressed into his shoulder.
“My poor girl,” he murmurs.
Rebecca stands and steps closer. “Press went okay?”
He exhales. “Yeah. Same questions, same answers.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “I hated leaving her.”
Rebecca reaches out, resting her hand on Yn’s back. “We know.”
Carlos adjusts his grip, lifting Yn a little higher. She sighs contentedly, like everything is finally back where it belongs.
“I’ll just—” Carlos starts, gesturing vaguely. “I’ll stand here for a bit.”
“No rush,” Lily says with a grin. “Clearly you’re occupied.”
Carlos chuckles softly. “Always.”
Yn peeks up then, eyes still a little puffy, but calmer. She reaches up and gently pulls Carlos’s sunglasses down onto his nose.
“There,” she says, very pleased with herself.
Carlos laughs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Gracias, mi estilista.”
Rebecca watches them, the way Yn mirrors him even in stillness, how her hand rests on his chest exactly where his would if he were holding someone else, how her legs hook around his waist like muscle memory.
She knows there will be many more moments like this. Many more separations, many more reunions that feel just as intense. It’s hard. Sometimes exhausting.
But standing there, watching her husband sway gently with their daughter in his arms, whispering to her in soft Spanish, Rebecca knows one thing for certain.
hihihihi can you write an smau with Carlos, basically just moments of them throughout his time in ferrari and then the transition to williams, basically fans being so glad that the reader is by his side through his tough times and even during his podiums
Different Finish Lines - CS55
served with: carlos sainz x fem!doctor!reader
chef's note: ten years. From a rookie at Toro Rosso shooting his shot via his cousin in Baku, to the crushing weight of the Scuderia Ferrari legacy, and finally finding a new home and a fresh start in Williams blue.
note: hi anon, I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish your request! I just couldn't find the perfect way to tell it, and I think I started from scratch twice before I was satisfied 😫 anyway, I hope you enjoy it and that it's what you were thinking <3 and realized this wasn't Carlos' entire career until the end :( sorry!!! (I know I left out some important things about Carlos' career and maybe went into more detail about Y/N's life, but if you like it, I could consider making another part with what you ask for <3)
ynuser
liked by friend1, friend2, friend3 and others
ynuser just waiting for the weekend so i can go to watch the f1 cars live!
friend1 literally us dragging ourselves through the week just to hear the lights go out on sunday 🏎️💨
ynuser @ friend1 if I have to look at one more screen before FP1 I'm actually going to lose my mind
friend2 the academic burnout in these pics is way too real 😭 you sleeping on the macbook in the last slide is my current mood.
user1 someone get this girl an espresso immediately ☕️
-
The Baku heat was sweltering, but you barely noticed it. Holding a guest paddock pass for the very first time, you were completely mesmerized by the sheer chaos and adrenaline of the Formula 1 circus. It was 2015, and the energy around the garages was electric.
You were standing near the Toro Rosso hospitality, trying to get a decent photo of the cars being wheeled out, completely unaware of the eyes on you.
A few yards away, Carlos was supposed to be listening to his manager discuss the schedule for the afternoon. It was his rookie year, and the pressure was immense, but at that exact moment, his focus was entirely derailed. He had stopped dead in his tracks in his blue and red race suit, his dark eyes locked on you.
"Carlos? Are you listening?" his cousin and right-hand man, Caco, asked, waving a hand in front of the young driver's face.
Carlos blinked, shaking his head slightly, though a faint blush crept up his neck. "Yeah. Yes. Hey, do you have a pen?"
Caco frowned, patting his pockets before pulling out a standard blue ballpoint pen. "Why?"
Carlos didn't answer. He hastily grabbed a small torn piece of paper from his pocket—a discarded printed timing sheet—and leaned against a stack of Pirelli tires to scribble something down. His heart was hammering against his ribs, bringing a completely different kind of nerves than what he felt behind the wheel. He folded it neatly, taking a deep breath before shoving it into Caco's chest.
"Give this to her," Carlos muttered, his thick Spanish accent laced with urgency. He pointed discreetly toward you.
"Are you serious?" Caco laughed, looking from the folded note to you, then back to Carlos. "You're an F1 driver now, mate. Go talk to her yourself."
"I have the engineering briefing in exactly two minutes, and if Franz sees me flirting in the paddock, he'll kill me," Carlos pleaded, practically pushing his cousin forward. "Please. Just give it to her. Tell her it's from me."
Before Caco could argue further, Carlos darted behind the safety of the Toro Rosso motorhome doors, though he kept one eye peeking through the tinted glass.
You were just putting your phone away when a guy in a navy blue team shirt tapped your shoulder.
"Excuse me," Caco smiled politely, holding out the folded piece of paper. "I was instructed to deliver this to you on behalf of a very nervous rookie."
You furrowed your brows, taking the paper. "A rookie?"
"Yeah. The Spanish one," Caco chuckled, gesturing over his shoulder.
You followed his gaze. Standing just inside the glass doors of the Toro Rosso hospitality was Carlos Sainz. When he saw you looking, his eyes went wide for a split second before he offered a shy, incredibly charming wave, his signature boyish grin breaking across his face.
You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. You waved back softly, unfolding the paper in your hands.
I think you're the prettiest girl in this paddock. If you want to celebrate a rookie surviving Baku, text me. - Carlos (Toro Rosso #55) +34 6XX XXX XXX
You looked back up, but he was gone, swallowed by the busy garage. You tucked the note safely into your pocket, your heart doing a sudden, violent flip. The race weekend had only just begun.
-
ynuser
liked by user, friend1, friend2 and others
ynuser Baku dump 🇦🇿🏎️ surviving the street circuit chaos and dealing with friends who insist on wearing red… I’m sticking to my RB gear for now 💙🐂
friend1 WE WILL CONVERT YOU TO THE RED SIDE EVENTUALLY! Just you wait 🐎❤️
ynuser @ friend1 in your dreams! Toro Rosso/Red Bull supremacy all the way today 😌
friend2 The audacity to wear those socks while sitting next to us in the grandstands 😤
ynuser @ friend2 someone has to have some taste in this friend group!
-
-
The logistics of dating an F1 driver—let alone a rookie trying to prove himself to Helmut Marko—were a nightmare, but Carlos was determined.
Two weeks after the chaos of Baku, the calendar offered a rare, brief gap. He had flown you out to London, promising a dinner that didn't involve paddock hospitality food or his cousin acting as a messenger.
He chose a small, intimately lit Italian place tucked away in Soho. When you walked in, Carlos was already seated at a corner booth, nervously tearing a paper coaster into microscopic pieces. He was dressed casually but sharply—a dark button-down shirt that made his shoulders look broad, his messy curls slightly tamed.
When he looked up and saw you, the nervous energy vanished, replaced instantly by that devastating, boyish grin. He immediately stood up, pulling out your chair.
"You made it," he said, his accent wrapping warmly around the words. He leaned in to press a soft, customary kiss to your cheek, and you could smell a hint of expensive cologne mixed with something distinctly him.
"I did," you smiled, taking your seat. "And look at you. No race suit, no engineers, and most importantly... no Caco to do the talking for you."
Carlos groaned, hiding his face in his hands for a second, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "Please tell me you are going to let that go eventually."
"Not a chance, rookie," you teased, picking up your menu. "It's part of your origin story now."
The date flowed effortlessly. For someone whose life was dictated by hundredths of a second, Carlos was surprisingly relaxed, taking his time to ask you about your life, your studies, and your passions. He listened with genuine intensity, his dark eyes entirely focused on you, making the rest of the crowded restaurant fade away.
In return, he talked about his family in Madrid, the pressure of his first year in Formula 1, and his dreams for the future.
"I just want to prove I belong here," he admitted softly, swirling the remaining red wine in his glass. "That I'm not just a name. I want to build a real legacy. Maybe... maybe drive for a historic team one day. Fight for wins."
"You will," you said, your voice full of absolute certainty. You reached across the table, your fingers lightly brushing against his. "You have the talent, Carlos. Anyone who actually watches you can see it. You're going to do amazing things."
Carlos looked down at your hand, then up at your eyes. The playful, flirting rookie from the paddock was gone, replaced by someone looking at you like you were the most important thing in the room. He turned his hand over, gently lacing his fingers through yours.
"Thank you, Y/N," he murmured, his thumb drawing soft circles on the back of your hand. "I... I really like having you in my corner."
-
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f1wags
liked by user1, user2, user3 and others
f1wags 🚨 SPOTTED IN THE PADDOCK 🚨 It is officially confirmed! After months of rumors and secret dinners since Baku, Carlos Sainz’s girlfriend, Y/N, has finally made her official paddock debut. But the best part? She arrived walking side-by-side with Mama Sainz (Reyes) and his sister! 🥺🇪🇸
user1 WALKING IN WITH HIS MOM AND SISTER??? Oh, it is serious SERIOUS 😭😭😭
user2 Okay, her style is impeccable, The Toro Rosso WAGs are stepping up their game! ❤️
user3 wait I am actually so obsessed with her. I saw a video on Twitter of Carlos running out of the garage just to hug her before FP1 started 🥺
user4 crying, throwing up, sliding down a wall. happy for him though I guess 🥲💔
user5 The fact that Reyes is smiling so big while talking to her says everything you need to know. Welcome to the grid, Y/N! 🏎️🇪🇸
friend1 EXCUSE ME THAT IS MY BEST FRIEND LOOKING LIKE AN ACTUAL SUPERMODEL 🗣️🗣️🗣️
f1wags @ friend1 tell your bestie she won the lottery for us!
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ynuser
liked by carlossainz55, friend1, friend2 and others
ynuser One whole year of navigating crazy race schedules, stealing your hoodies, and laughing until my ribs hurt. Happy anniversary, @ carlossainz55 ❤️ Life is so much sweeter with you in it
carlossainz55 I only let you steal the hoodies because you look better in them anyway. Happy anniversary, mi amor ❤️
friend1 THE PHOTO BOOTH PICTURES 😭 I am entirely unwell! You two are perfect
carlosonoros I am just saying, I deserve at least a 10% credit fee for this relationship reaching the one-year mark
ynuser @ carlosonoros your gift basket is in the mail, Caco, don't worry!
user1 We love a supportive F1 couple! From the beach vacations to the garage… you guys are goals 🥺
user2 The way he is looking at you in that photo booth strip… yeah he is completely gone for her
-
The auditorium in Barcelona was a sea of black robes, nervous energy, and the echoing chatter of proud families. For the last two hours, you had been sitting in the middle row, rhythmically bouncing your leg and checking your phone every three minutes.
10:15 AM - carlos :)
Flight finally landed! Running to the terminal now
10:45 AM - carlos :)
Y/N, the traffic on the C-32 is completely stopped. I am going to murder my driver. I am so sorry, mi amor, I am trying
11:10 AM - Y/N
Don't stress, Carlos! It's okay. Just get here safely ❤️
It was now 11:30 AM. Your faculty was up next.
You knew exactly how difficult this was for him. The 2016 calendar was relentless, and Carlos had been stuck in the Milton Keynes simulator until late Thursday night trying to fix a downforce issue on the Toro Rosso. He had promised to move mountains to be at your graduation on Friday morning, but F1 logistics rarely cared about personal promises.
"Nervous?" your best friend whispered, nudging your shoulder as the dean took the podium.
"A little," you admitted, smoothing down your gown. You glanced at the massive double doors at the back of the hall one last time. They remained stubbornly closed.
The names started alphabetically. The applause was deafening, bouncing off the high ceilings. You swallowed the lump in your throat, reminding yourself that Carlos being an F1 driver meant sacrificing normal couple milestones. You had accepted that. You were fine.
But when the dean leaned into the microphone and called out, "Y/N," your heart still gave a hopeful little flutter.
You stood up, pasting on a bright smile as you walked across the stage. The lights were blinding, but as you reached out to shake the dean's hand and accept your diploma folder, a sudden commotion at the back of the auditorium caught your eye.
The heavy wooden doors had swung open.
Standing there, entirely out of breath, was Carlos. He was wearing a sharp, tailored navy suit—a stark contrast to his usual team gear—with his tie slightly loosened and his curls in absolute chaos. He had one hand braced against the doorframe, chest heaving, his dark eyes frantically scanning the stage.
The moment his eyes locked onto yours, the panic melted off his face. He broke into that massive, boyish grin that you loved so much, raising both hands to clap enthusiastically, completely ignoring the curious stares from the parents around him.
You couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up in your chest. You held up your diploma, beaming right back at him as you walked off the stage.
Ten minutes later, the ceremony concluded, and the crowd spilled out into the sunlit university courtyard. You had barely made it down the steps before a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, spinning you around.
"You made it," you gasped, burying your face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of an airport.
"I told you I wasn't going to miss this," Carlos breathed out, setting you down but keeping his hands firmly on your waist. He leaned back to look at you, his eyes shining with pure pride. "Look at you. An official university graduate. I am so incredibly proud of you, Y/N."
"I thought you were stuck in traffic on the highway."
Carlos laughed, shaking his head. "I was. So I made the driver pull over near the metro station, jumped out, and took the train the rest of the way. I literally sprinted the last four blocks. I think I broke my own track record."
Your eyes went wide, taking in his slightly disheveled state and the dress shoes that were definitely not meant for sprinting through Barcelona. "You took the metro? In a tailored suit? Carlos, you are insane."
"I am dedicated," he corrected, pulling you in for a soft, lingering kiss, completely oblivious to the chaos of the graduates and families around you. When he pulled away, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, slightly crushed velvet box.
"I didn't have time to get flowers because I was running for my life," he confessed, handing it to you. "But I got you this in London yesterday."
You opened the box to find a delicate, beautiful gold necklace with a tiny, understated star pendant.
"Because you are the star today," Carlos said softly, his accent thick and sincere. "Not me. Not racing. Just you. Now, turn around so I can put it on you before my manager calls me and yells at me for abandoning my driver on the highway."
You laughed, turning around and sweeping your hair to the side. As the cool metal settled against your collarbone, you realized that despite the chaotic calendar, the delayed flights, and the absolute madness of his life... you wouldn't trade a single second of it.
-
ynuser
liked by carlossainz, reyesvdec, friend1 and others
ynuser From freezing our hands off building snowmen to ringing in the NYE with confetti in our hair ✨🎄🥂 The most perfect way to close out the year. 2017, we are so ready for you!
carlossainz55 My absolute favorite way to spend the winter off-season. Can we go back to sitting by the fireplace now?
user1 The picture of you two by the fireplace?! You look like a literal movie poster! 🎬🔥
user2 The contrast between the cozy snowy mornings and the New Year's Eve glam is everything. Your NYE look is stunning, Y/N!
user3 The way he brought you flowers at the end of the night 😭 The Spanish romance is alive and well!
user4 Okay but Carlos looking at her at the bar like she is the only person in the entire room… I am crying
friend1 Happy New Year Y/N!! So glad you finally get a proper break to just relax and celebrate!🥂
-
ynuser
liked by friend1, friend2, carlossainz55 and others
ynuser Recharging before the second half of the season. Much needed vitamin sea, beautiful sunsets, and absolutely zero talk about tire degradations (mostly)
carlossainz55 I only mentioned the tires twice…
ynuser @ carlossainz55 you literally drew the Spa track layout in the sand yesterday to explain a corner entry to me
user1 The heart hands picture at the end 🥺 You guys are the absolute cutest!
carlosonoros Please try to bring him back in one piece. We actually need him for Spa next week!
user2 The sunburn on his back in the fourth pic 😭 someone please get this millionaire athlete some SPF 50!
teamcarlos Seeing him finally get to relax and just be a normal 20-something guy with his gf makes my heart so happy ❤️ Enjoy the break, Y/N! liked by ynuser
friend1 The swimsuit?! The glow?! You are glowing, bestie! 🌴✨
-
carlossainz55
liked by renaultf1team, ynuser, maxverstappen1 and others
carlossainz55 A new chapter starts today 💛🖤
ynuser So incredibly proud of you and everything you’ve worked so hard for to get to this moment!!
user Okay but we need to talk about how good he looks in this kit??? 🔥
renaultf1team Welcome to the Renault family! 💛
user1 THE RENAULT ERA IS OFFICIALLY HERE! Y/N is going to look so good rocking the yellow paddock passes this season 😭
carlosonoros Finally, I don't have to look at those Toro Rosso energy drink cans everywhere
user2 Immediately putting together yellow and black outfit mood boards for you, Y/N 📝
-
The click of the hotel room door unlocking sounded louder than usual in the dead silence of the room.
It was Sunday evening after the British Grand Prix, and the air in your shared hotel room in Northamptonshire felt incredibly heavy. The race had been a disaster. Another DNF to add to the growing list of the 2018 season, this time thanks to a chaotic collision with Grosjean that sent Carlos' Renault spinning out into the gravel.
You looked up from the sofa as Carlos walked in. He didn't say a word. He just dropped his yellow and black Renault team backpack onto the floor with a heavy thud, ran a trembling hand through his curls, and let his head fall back against the closed door.
His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with the deep exhaustion that came from fighting a car that refused to cooperate, week after week. The physical toll of the crash was nothing compared to the mental exhaustion etched into his features.
"Hey," you said softly, setting your book down and standing up.
He let out a shaky exhale, keeping his eyes glued to the ceiling. "Don't. Please, Y/N. If you tell me it's racing and that these things happen, I think I might actually lose my mind."
You stopped a few feet away from him, your heart aching at the sheer defeat in his voice. You knew better than to offer him empty platitudes right now. This wasn't just about one crash at Silverstone. This was about the entire season building up and crushing him. It was the engine failures, the missed points, the frantic midfield battles, and most of all, the suffocating pressure of his expiring contract. The paddock was already buzzing with rumors that Renault was looking elsewhere for 2019.
"I wasn't going to say that," you replied gently, closing the distance between you. You reached out, carefully sliding the heavy Renault jacket off his shoulders. He let you, his posture slumping as the rigid team gear fell away.
"I had the pace," Carlos whispered, his voice cracking slightly. He finally looked at you, and the sheer frustration in his dark eyes made your breath hitch. "I had the pace all weekend. And then—one mistake from someone else, and it's over. Another zero on the board. Another debrief where I have to sit there and apologize for a broken chassis that wasn't even my fault."
"I know," you murmured, tossing the jacket onto a nearby chair before wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested your cheek against his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat. "I know, Carlos."
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you impossibly close, burying his face in your hair. For a long time, neither of you moved. You just held him, acting as the anchor he desperately needed in a paddock that felt like it was shifting entirely beneath his feet.
"Cyril barely looked at me in the garage," Carlos admitted, his voice muffled against you. The vulnerability in his tone was rare; Carlos was usually the picture of stoic Spanish pride. "They are talking to other drivers, Y/N. I know they are. My contract is up, the car is a nightmare, and I'm not bringing in the results to make them keep me. If I lose this seat..."
He trailed off, unable to voice the terrifying reality of losing his place in Formula 1.
You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, bringing your hands up to cup his face. Your thumbs gently brushed over the harsh lines of tension in his jaw.
"Listen to me," you said, your voice firm and completely unwavering. "You are Carlos Sainz. You are not defined by one bad season, and you are certainly not defined by a car that can't make it to the finish line."
Carlos closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, but he shook his head slightly. "In this sport, you are only as good as your last race."
"No," you insisted, forcing him to open his eyes and look at you. "You are as good as your talent. And everyone in that paddock knows exactly how talented you are. If Renault can't see that, or if they decide to go in a different direction, then it's their loss. Another door will open. You belong on that grid, Carlos. You have fought too hard and sacrificed too much to let a bad streak make you doubt that."
He swallowed hard, his dark eyes searching yours. The tension in his shoulders slowly began to unravel, the absolute certainty in your voice cutting through the noise in his head.
"I don't know what I would do without you," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "I feel like I'm constantly drowning this year, and you are the only thing keeping my head above water."
"Then I'll keep holding you up," you promised softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "For as long as you need. We're going to get through this season. Together."
Carlos finally let out a long, shuddering breath, the ghost of his usual smile tugging at his lips. He pressed a proper, lingering kiss to your lips, pouring all his unspoken gratitude into it.
"Okay," he breathed out, pulling you tight against his chest again. "Together."
-
The McLaren motorhome was a completely different world.
After the suffocating tension and the icy politics of Renault the previous year, walking into the bright papaya-colored hospitality felt like stepping out into the sun. The team at Woking had welcomed Carlos—and by extension, you—with wide smiles, warm embraces, and an unwavering belief in his talent. Zak had made it clear: Carlos wasn't just a placeholder here. He was their project. Their future.
But the Formula 1 gods, it seemed, still wanted to test him.
The first three races of the 2019 season had been a masterclass in terrible luck. An engine fire on lap 9 in Australia. A puncture after a brilliant battle with Verstappen in Bahrain. A first-lap collision in China. On paper, it looked like a disaster.
You were waiting in his designated driver room at the Shanghai circuit, tracing the orange stitching on your new McLaren team jacket. The door swung open, and Carlos walked in, still wearing the bottom half of his race suit.
Last year, a race like this would have ended with him staring blankly at a wall, crushed under the weight of the yellow and black team's expectations. But today, as he took off his fireproof top, he didn't look broken. He looked fired up.
"I had the pace," he said, not with despair, but with a fierce, burning determination. He grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck. "Before Kvyat hit me, the car felt amazing, Y/N. It was flying. If we hadn't collided, I was easily finishing best of the rest today."
You smiled, standing up from the small sofa to hand him a bottle of water. "I saw the telemetry before they brought you in. You were incredibly fast, Carlos."
"It's frustrating, the zero points," he admitted, taking a long drink. He sighed, pulling you in by the waist with his free hand and resting his forehead against yours. "But for the first time in a very long time... I know the car can do it. And I know the team has my back. Andrea Stella just pulled me aside and told me not to worry about the crash. They aren't blaming me. They just want to build a better front wing for Baku."
"That's because they actually value you here," you whispered, reaching up to gently untangle a curl that had plastered itself to his forehead. "They see what I see."
Carlos let out a soft laugh, the sound vibrating against your chest. "You look incredibly good in papaya, by the way. Much better than the yellow."
"I think so too," you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Are you ready to shower and get out of here? I think a certain rookie is driving his engineers crazy next door."
Right on cue, a loud, muffled crash echoed through the thin wall separating Carlos's room from his new teammate's, followed immediately by Lando's high-pitched giggling.
Carlos groaned, dropping his head back in pure exasperation. "I swear, being his teammate is like adopting a golden retriever puppy that has drank three Red Bulls. What did he break this time?"
"I'll go check," you laughed, pulling away from Carlos's grip. "You shower. I will make sure Lando hasn't accidentally set the motorhome on fire."
"Tell him if he broke my spare helmet visor again, I'm making him walk back to the hotel!" Carlos called out as you opened the door.
You stepped out into the hallway, shaking your head with a massive smile on your face. The points hadn't come yet, and the bad luck was still hovering, but the heavy, suffocating cloud of 2018 was officially gone. Carlos was smiling again. The fire was back in his eyes.
McLaren felt exactly like where you were both supposed to be.
-
carlossainz55
liked by ynuser, carlosonoros, lando and others
carlossainz55 P20 to P3! 🤯 First Mclaren podium!!! It wasn’t a normal podium ceremony, but getting to run up there and celebrate with the entire team after the race made it even more special. What a crazy, crazy day. Thank you to everyone at @ mclaren for giving me a car to fight with. VAMOS!!! 🌶️🏆🍾
ynuser Started from the absolute back and now we are here!!! 😭 I have never screamed so loud at a timing screen in my life. I AM SO INCREDIBLY PROUD OF YOU! ❤️🌶️
carlossainz55 @ ynuser Thank you for always believing in me, mi amor. Even when we were starting in P20 ❤️
lando I let you have this one mate. (just kidding you drove like an absolute madman, congrats old man!!! 🧡)
ynuser @ lando don't lie, you were literally jumping up and down in the garage with us Lando 🥺
mclaren A drive of absolute champions. Enjoy it, Carlos! 🧡🏆
carlosonoros Not a bad result for a guy who started the race in a different postal code. So proud of you, primo!
user1 Y/N IS IN SHAMBLES. WE ARE ALL IN SHAMBLES. HE FINALLY DID IT!!!!
user2 THE FIRST OF MANY!!! The fact that the whole team went up there to celebrate with him because he missed the official ceremony is making me cry 😭😭😭
user3 A moment for the history books! 🍾 Can’t wait to see Y/N’s camera roll from the afterparty tonight!
-
-
The rain at the Suzuka circuit was coming down in relentless, heavy sheets, officially red-flagging the afternoon practice session. For most of the paddock, a rain delay meant stress. For the McLaren motorhome, it meant an inevitable descent into absolute chaos.
You were curled up in the corner of Carlos’s driver room, a blanket over your legs, quietly typing away on your laptop. Carlos was sprawled out on the small sofa opposite you, his eyes closed, a cap pulled down over his face as he tried to take a quick nap before the track cleared.
It was peaceful. It was quiet.
Until the door violently banged open, bouncing off the wall with a loud thud.
Carlos jolted awake, ripping the cap off his face and cursing vividly in Spanish as he sat up.
Standing in the doorway, completely unfazed by the near heart attack he had just caused his teammate, was Lando Norris. He was wearing his orange McLaren race suit tied around his waist, aggressively eating from a bag of paprika chips that you were entirely sure he had stolen from your bag.
"Lando, por favor," Carlos groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall. "What is wrong with you? Do you not know how to knock?"
"I don't have time to knock," Lando declared, walking into the room and immediately dropping himself onto the tiny sliver of couch space next to Carlos's legs. "Max is being mean to me on FIFA and I need you to tell him to stop. Also, Jon took my phone charger. Do you have one?"
"No," Carlos said flatly, pointing a finger at the door. "Out. Go bother Jon. Go bother Zak. I was sleeping."
"Y/N!" Lando whined, immediately pivoting to look at you with wide, dramatically tragic eyes. "Tell Carlos he's being a bad teammate. Tell him to come play FIFA with me."
You slowly closed your laptop, letting out a long, long sigh. You looked at the twenty-year-old British driver, then down at the crinkling bag in his hand.
"Lando," you said calmly. "Are those the chips I specifically bought at the supermarket yesterday and hid in the bottom of my backpack?"
Lando froze, a chip halfway to his mouth. He looked at the bag, then back at you, completely innocent. "No?"
"He's lying," Carlos interjected immediately, throwing his teammate under the bus without a second thought. "He was digging through your bag while you were in the bathroom earlier. I saw him."
"Traitor!" Lando gasped, lightly shoving Carlos’s knee.
"You're a menace, Lando," you laughed, standing up to confiscate the chips from his hands. "No more sugar and carbs for you, you're already bouncing off the walls. Don't you have engineers to talk to?"
"The track is flooded," Lando complained, throwing his head back dramatically against the sofa cushions. "There's nothing to do. I'm bored. You guys are my only friends."
"We are not your friends, we are your babysitters," Carlos muttered, though the fondness in his voice completely ruined the insult. He reached over, ruffling Lando’s already messy curls. "Madre mía, it is like having a child. A very loud, very annoying child who steals my girlfriend's snacks."
"If I'm your child, that makes Y/N my mom," Lando grinned, completely entirely too pleased with himself. He looked up at you. "Mom, can I have my chips back?"
"Absolutely not," you said, crossing your arms, though you couldn't stop the smile from breaking across your face. You reached into your pocket and tossed him a spare phone charger instead. "But here. Go charge your phone, tell Max that Carlos is too scared to play him in FIFA, and let the poor man nap for ten more minutes."
"I am not scared of Max in FIFA!" Carlos argued indignantly, sitting up completely. "Give me the controller, I'll destroy both of you right now."
Lando immediately scrambled off the sofa, victorious. "Yes! Let's go, old man. Try to keep up."
As Lando darted out of the room, Carlos stood up, stretching his arms over his head with a heavy, defeated sigh. He walked over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
"I am going to age ten years before this season is over," Carlos mumbled into your hair.
"You love him," you teased, leaning into his side.
"Do not ever tell him I said this," Carlos whispered, a tiny smile playing on his lips. "But yes. The kid is okay. Now come watch me absolutely humble him at video games."
-
ynuser
liked by friend1, friend2, carlossainz55 and others
ynuser Officially Dr. Y/N! 🩺🥺 It still doesn't feel real. Looking back at the years of endless flashcards, highlighting high-yield concepts until my eyes blurred, and late nights memorizing every single anatomical detail, physiological process, and clinical correlation… it was all worth it. I am so incredibly honored to officially begin my practice in Family Medicine. Here is to healing, listening, and treating the whole patient! ❤️
carlossainz55 The smartest, most dedicated person I know. Watching you work for this over the last few years has been the greatest privilege. I am so incredibly proud of you, Doctor ❤️🍾
mclaren Congratulations on this amazing achievement, Dr. Y/N! 🧡
user1 A DOCTOR!!! 😭 Y/N is out here saving lives and securing the bag. We love an independent, brilliant queen!
carlosonoros I'm keeping you on speed dial for every minor injury I get now. Congratulations, Y/N!
ynuser @ carlosonoros don't test me, caco, I will send you an invoice! 😂
user2 Carlos's comment is making me sob. The way they both support each other's demanding careers is just top-tier relationship goals 🥺
friend1 From the absolute trenches of clinical rotations to finally getting that title… congratulations!!
-
The silence in the McLaren driver room was deafening, a stark contrast to the absolute chaos of the Monza paddock outside.
It was 2020, and the Italian Grand Prix had just delivered one of the most unpredictable, heart-stopping races of the decade. Carlos had finished P2, a phenomenal result for McLaren. But as you stood by the door watching him, you knew exactly why the air in the room felt so heavy.
Four tenths of a second.
That was the only thing that had stood between Carlos and his first-ever Formula 1 race win. One more lap, maybe even just one more straight, and he would have passed Pierre Gasly.
Carlos was sitting on the edge of the small sofa, his race suit pulled down to his waist, elbows resting on his knees. He had his face buried in his hands, completely still. The P2 trophy was sitting on the small table next to him, gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights, but he hadn't even looked at it since he walked in.
"Carlos?" you murmured softly, closing the door behind you to shut out the noise of the mechanics packing up the garage.
He didn't look up, but he let out a long, ragged exhale. "One more lap, Y/N." His voice was muffled against his hands, thick with absolute heartbreak. "If I just had one more lap, I would have had him."
You walked over, kneeling on the floor in front of him so you were eye-level. You gently rested your hands on his knees, squeezing them reassuringly.
"Hey. Look at me," you said gently.
He slowly lowered his hands, and the sheer devastation in his dark eyes made your chest tighten. He looked completely drained, the physical toll of 53 relentless laps at the Temple of Speed catching up to him all at once.
"I gave it everything," he whispered, shaking his head. "Every single drop of energy I had, I left it out on the track. I was pushing the car beyond its limits. I could see Pierre getting bigger and bigger in the mirrors, I could feel the slipstream. Four tenths, Y/N. It’s nothing. It’s a blink of an eye. And I lost."
"You didn't lose," you corrected him firmly, your voice soft but unwavering. You moved your hands from his knees to cup his face, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. "Carlos, you finished second in a Formula 1 Grand Prix on pure pace. You didn't get lucky with a safety car, you didn't inherit it. You fought for it. You drove beautifully."
"But it’s not P1," he argued stubbornly, leaning into your touch even as his voice cracked. "You don't understand how much it hurts to be that close. To be able to literally reach out and touch it, and have the checkered flag wave before you can take it. I wanted this win so badly."
"I know you did," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "And you have every right to be angry and frustrated right now. But please don't let that overshadow what you just did out there. You were brilliant, Carlos. The whole world just watched you hunt down the leader like an absolute machine. You showed everyone exactly why Ferrari signed you for next year."
At the mention of Ferrari, a tiny, bittersweet sigh escaped his lips. He finally moved his hands, wrapping them around your wrists and holding you close.
"It hurts," he repeated, though the edge of panic was slowly leaving his voice, replaced by heavy exhaustion.
"It hurts because you're a champion, and champions want to win," you smiled softly, leaning back just enough to catch his eyes again. "If you were perfectly happy with second place when a win was on the table, I'd be worried about you. But this? This hunger? It’s exactly why you will get that P1 one day. I promise you, Carlos. Your time is coming."
He stared at you for a long moment, the storm in his dark eyes slowly beginning to settle. The absolute certainty in your voice was the anchor he desperately needed. He reached over, pulling you up from the floor and onto his lap, burying his face in your neck.
"Thank you," he breathed out, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. "I don't know why you put up with me when I get like this."
"Because I love you," you whispered, running your fingers through his damp, messy curls. "And because I get front-row seats to the greatest driver on the grid. Now... are you going to go out there and celebrate with your team, or do I have to carry that heavy trophy for you?"
A low, rumbling laugh vibrated against your collarbone, and for the first time since the race ended, the tension finally melted from his shoulders.
"I can carry it," he mumbled, pulling back to give you a proper, lingering kiss. "But you're buying the pizza tonight."
-
carlossainz55
liked by ynuser, charles_leclerc, lando and others
carlossainz55 Very happy to announce that I will be driving for Scuderia Ferrari in 2021 and my future with the team. I have always dreamed of racing in red since I was a little boy, and today that dream becomes a reality.
ynuser I have watched you work so incredibly hard for this moment. You deserve every single bit of it. I am so unbelievably proud of you, mi amor! The red suits you perfectly ❤
carlossainz55 @ ynuser I couldn’t have done any of it without you in my corner ❤️
lando Who am I supposed to play FIFA with next year?! 🥺 (Very happy for you mate, you deserve it 🧡)
ynuser @ lando don't worry Lando, we will still adopt you on the weekends!
scuderiaferrari Benvenuto nella famiglia, Carlos! 🤝
mclaren Congratulations, Carlos! 🧡❤
carlosonoros The childhood dream is finally real. Let's make history! 🇪🇸
user1 Y/N IN FERRARI RED NEXT YEAR!!! We won so hard today ladies 🗣️🗣️
user2 THE CHILI IS GOING TO MARANELLO 🌶️🏎️ I am actually crying right now, he deserves this top seat so much!
user3 The paddock is not ready for Y/N's Ferrari-era paddock fits! So happy for them! ❤️✨
-
Maranello was beautiful, but it was not forgiving.
It was 1:00 AM in your newly rented Italian apartment, and the glow of the city lights cast long shadows across the living room floor. You were sitting on the edge of the sofa, watching Carlos meticulously fold his red Ferrari team polo, tracing the Prancing Horse crest with his thumb before setting it on the table.
Moving to Ferrari was the realization of a lifelong dream, but the reality of 2021 had hit like a freight train. At McLaren, Carlos was the experienced team leader in a warm, familial environment. Here, he was stepping into the most scrutinized seat in motorsport history, walking the same halls as Schumacher, Lauda, and Alonso. The Italian media was relentless, the Tifosi's expectations were suffocating, and the SF21 was proving incredibly difficult to tame.
Carlos finally sat down heavily next to you, burying his face in his hands. He smelled like the simulator—a sterile mix of sweat and hot electronics—where he had spent the last twelve hours trying to find a fraction of a second in his braking zones.
"I can't find the limit, Y/N," he whispered, his voice incredibly strained, the thick Spanish accent clipping his words. "With the McLaren, I knew exactly what the car would do before it did it. With this one... I brake the exact same way I did yesterday, and the rear just snaps."
"It's only been three races, Carlos," you murmured softly, shifting closer and placing a gentle hand on his back. You could feel the rigid knots of tension coiled all along his spine. "You're still adapting. It takes time."
"Time is a luxury Ferrari drivers do not have," he replied bitterly, finally dropping his hands. He leaned his head back against the sofa, his dark eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. "Did you read La Gazzetta today?"
"You know I don't read the papers. And you shouldn't either."
"They're saying Ferrari made a mistake," he continued, completely ignoring you, the words pouring out like poison he desperately needed to expel. "They are saying I'm too slow to keep up with Charles. That I'm just a number two driver meant to stay out of the way. I spend ten hours a day in the sim, I talk to the engineers until my throat bleeds, and I still can't match his qualifying pace."
He turned his head to look at you, and the sheer vulnerability in his expression made your chest physically ache. The boyish, confident grin that usually lived on his face had been entirely eclipsed by the crushing weight of the red suit.
"What if they're right?" he asked, the question barely louder than a breath. "What if the pressure is too much? What if I am not good enough for this team?"
"Stop," you said instantly. Your voice wasn't harsh, but it was laced with absolute steel. You shifted so you were fully facing him, taking both of his hands in yours and holding them tightly. "Do not let them do this to you. Do not let the media get into your head."
"Y/N—"
"No, listen to me," you interrupted, squeezing his hands. "You are not an imposter. You didn't win a lottery to get that seat. Mattia Binotto signed you because he looked at the entire grid and decided that you were the driver Ferrari needed to rebuild this team. You."
Carlos swallowed hard, his dark eyes searching yours, desperately wanting to believe the conviction in your voice.
"Charles has been driving that car for two years," you continued softly, moving one hand to cup his cheek. His skin was pale under his dark stubble, a testament to his exhaustion. "He knows the team, he knows the engine, he knows the philosophy. You are essentially trying to learn a new language while running a marathon, Carlos. You have to give yourself some grace."
He leaned into your palm, letting his eyes close for a second. A shaky breath escaped his lips, the walls of defensive pride slowly crumbling.
"The pressure here..." he whispered, his voice thick. "It's different. At Renault, it was stressful. But here? It feels like an entire country is holding its breath every time I leave the garage. If I lock up, I feel like I've committed a sin against Italy."
"You are carrying the weight of a myth," you agreed gently, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "But at the end of the day, it's just a steering wheel, four tires, and an engine. It's the same sport you've been racing in your entire life. Strip away the red paint, strip away the history, and just drive the car, Carlos."
He opened his eyes, the storm of anxiety finally starting to recede, replaced by the deep, profound gratitude he always held for you. He turned his head slightly to press a kiss to the inside of your palm, his shoulders dropping two inches as he let out a long, heavy exhale.
"You always know how to fix it," he mumbled, pulling you flush against his chest and wrapping his arms securely around you.
"I just remind you of who you are," you smiled softly, resting your chin on his shoulder and rubbing his back. "You are Carlos Sainz. And you belong in a Ferrari. The Italian press will figure that out soon enough."
"Tomorrow," he promised softly into your hair, the familiar spark of stubborn determination finally creeping back into his voice. "I will go back to the simulator tomorrow. I will figure this car out."
"I know you will," you whispered. "But for tonight... you are going to sleep. No telemetry, no setup sheets. Just sleep."
Carlos let out a low, tired chuckle, tightening his grip on you. "Okay, jefa. Deal."
-
ynuser
liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, friend1 and others
ynuser P1!!! 🏆🏁 THE FIRST WIN! 150 races of pure determination, heartbreak, resilience, and never ever giving up. I have watched you work yourself to the bone for this exact moment. You are a Formula 1 Grand Prix Winner, @ carlossainz55!!! 🌶️🇪🇸❤️ The smoothest operator of them all!
carlossainz55 We did it, mi amor. This one is for you ❤️🏆
scuderiaferrari Grande Carlos! A historic day for the team and the Sainz family!
friend1 THE HUG PICTURE 😭😭😭 I am sobbing. You can literally feel the emotion through the screen!
user1 HE FINALLY DID IT!!! And the way he ran straight to Y/N before anyone else… my heart cannot take this 🥺
user2 I remember Y/N posting about surviving the midfield battles in 2018… and now she's holding the P1 trophy with him in Ferrari red. We have come so far! 😭
lando YES MATE!!! Absolutely brilliant drive. So happy for you both!
user3 The engraved stone at Silverstone 🇬🇧 The history books will forever have his name. So incredibly proud!
-
The sun hadn’t even fully breached the horizon over Madrid, casting the kitchen in a soft, hazy blue light. The apartment was entirely silent, save for the rhythmic humming of the stand mixer and the soft patter of your bare feet against the hardwood floor.
It was 6:00 AM on a Tuesday.
You were standing at the marble kitchen island, wearing a pair of oversized sweatpants and a faded red Ferrari hoodie you had permanently stolen from Carlos’s closet. Your hair was tied up in a messy clip, and there was a very distinct smudge of flour across your left cheekbone.
Yesterday had been a nightmare at the clinic. Fourteen straight hours of back-to-back patients, deciphering complex blood panels, comforting a frightened family, and dealing with a massive backlog of charts. When the weight of your Family Medicine practice got too heavy, you didn't sleep. You baked.
The smell of freshly proofed sourdough and warm cinnamon was already filling the space, acting as a grounding anchor after the clinical sterility of the hospital.
A soft shuffle of footsteps down the hallway broke the quiet.
You didn't look up as Carlos leaned heavily against the kitchen doorframe. He was half-asleep, his dark curls sticking up in every possible direction, wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants. He rubbed his eyes, blinking against the warm glow of the under-cabinet lights.
He didn't say anything at first. He just stood there, watching you aggressively knead a second batch of dough on the counter. His dark eyes softened, a small, incredibly fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. In a world full of roaring engines, flashing cameras, and suffocating media pressure, this was his absolute favorite view. Not the podiums, not the packed grandstands. Just you, completely in your element, making a mess of their kitchen.
"You are going to feed an entire army, mi amor," Carlos's voice was rough and thick with sleep, the Spanish accent heavier in the early morning.
You finally stopped kneading, wiping the back of your wrist across your forehead. "I had a bad shift. Dr. Silva called out sick, so I had to cover half of her pediatric cases on top of my own geriatric patients. I think I ran entirely on three sips of cold coffee yesterday."
Carlos pushed off the doorframe, walking slowly across the kitchen. He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, entirely unbothered by the flour dusting your hoodie. He pressed a warm, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.
"You should be sleeping, Doctor," he murmured, his chest vibrating against your back.
"I couldn't turn my brain off," you admitted, leaning your weight back against him with a heavy sigh. "Every time I closed my eyes, I was reviewing prescription dosages in my head. The dough helps. It's... tactile. It makes sense."
"I know," he said softly, swaying you both gently from side to side. "But you're home now. You left it all at the clinic."
He reached blindly to his right, turning off the stand mixer so the kitchen fell completely quiet again. Then, he gently turned you around in his arms. He reached up, his thumb brushing the smudge of flour off your cheek with agonizing tenderness.
"You work too hard," he whispered, looking down at you with a mixture of awe and worry.
"Look who's talking," you teased softly, resting your flour-free hands on his bare chest. "Weren't you the one who spent six hours analyzing tire degradation data on your iPad last night?"
Carlos let out a low chuckle, his eyes crinkling. "That's different. I just drive a car in circles. You actually save people's lives."
"Don't do that," you smiled, shaking your head. "Don't downplay what you do. We just have different finish lines, Carlos."
He looked at you for a long moment, the absolute devotion in his eyes making your breath hitch slightly, even after all these years. He leaned down, pressing a soft, slow kiss to your lips. It tasted like sleep and the promise of a quiet morning.
"I'm making the coffee," he announced when he pulled away, gently untangling himself from your arms. He walked over to the espresso machine, beginning the familiar, rhythmic process of grinding the beans. "And then, I am going to sit right here and watch you bake. And you are going to tell me absolutely nothing about the hospital, and I am going to tell you absolutely nothing about Maranello. Deal?"
You looked at him—messy hair, sleep-heavy eyes, making coffee in your shared kitchen—and felt the lingering stress of the clinic finally evaporate from your shoulders.
"Deal," you smiled, turning back to your dough.
-
ynuser
liked by friend1, carlossainz55, friend2 and others
ynuser 7 years ❤️ From the Toro Rosso rookie who sent his cousin to give me his number in Baku, to navigating the absolute madness of this life together. 7 years of team changes, time zones, delayed flights, and me stealing your clothes. I wouldn't trade a single second of it. Happy anniversary, @ carlossainz55
carlossainz55 Seven years and you still refuse to give me back that Renault hoodie. I love you more than anything, Y/N. Thank you for being my rock ❤️
carlosonoros I am still waiting for my official plaque as the founder of this relationship
ynuser @ carlosonoros I literally bought you dinner last week, caco!
friend1 The "I ❤️ Carlos Sainz" apron is sending me into orbit 😭😭 Where did you even get that?!
ynuser @ friend1 Lando got it custom-made for my birthday last year and Carlos forces me to wear it when we cook!
lando My favorite parents! Happy anniversary guys 🧡
user1 The Toro Rosso throwback photo vs the Ferrari picture 🥺 The glow-up is absolutely insane. You guys are the blueprint!
user2 The graduation throwback!!! 😭 He has literally been with him through every single era
-
The humidity in the Ferrari garage was absolutely suffocating, but for the last ten laps of the Singapore Grand Prix, you hadn’t even noticed you were sweating. In fact, you were barely breathing.
You were standing with your arms tightly crossed over your chest, positioned right behind Ricky, Carlos’s race engineer. Your eyes were glued to the glowing timing screens, the numbers blurring together as a sickening sense of dread built in your stomach.
Carlos was leading. He had driven a flawless race from pole position, managing his tires perfectly around the treacherous street circuit. But a late Virtual Safety Car had allowed the Mercedes duo of George and Lewis to pit for fresh, much faster medium tires. Now, they were hunting down the leaders at an absolutely terrifying pace.
Lando was in P2, acting as a buffer, but the Mercedes cars were eating up the gap by two seconds a lap. It was only a matter of time before they swallowed Lando whole and came straight for Carlos.
"Gap to Norris is 1.2," Ricky’s voice crackled over the radio, tense but professional.
You watched the GPS tracker on the screen. The yellow dot representing Lando was desperately trying to hold off the two silver dots right behind him.
And then, the red dot representing Carlos did something that made your heart stop completely.
The gap on the timing screen suddenly dropped. 0.9 seconds. 0.8 seconds.
"What is he doing?" you gasped, leaning over the console, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk so hard your knuckles were entirely white. "Ricky, he's losing pace. Is it the tires? Did he clip the wall?!"
Ricky didn't answer immediately. The engineers around you were staring at their telemetry data, a ripple of pure confusion washing through the garage.
"Carlos, gap to Norris is 0.8," Ricky relayed, a hint of urgency creeping into his tone.
"Yeah, it's on purpose," Carlos’s voice came back over the radio. In the absolute chaos and pressure of a Marina Bay street fight, his voice was chillingly calm. Icy. "I am giving him DRS."
The garage went dead silent for a fraction of a second before the realization hit you like a physical blow.
You covered your mouth with both hands, your eyes going wide. "Oh my god," you whispered.
He was intentionally slowing down. With fresh Mercedes tires breathing down his neck and his first win of the season on the line, Carlos was deliberately backing up to drag his former teammate into his DRS zone. He knew Lando didn't have the top speed to defend against Russell on his own. But if Lando had Carlos's DRS, he could hold them off. Carlos was using Lando as a human shield to secure his own victory.
"He is out of his mind," you laughed, the sound bordering on a hysterical sob. "He is an absolute madman."
Even Fred Vasseur, standing a few feet away, took his headset off for a moment, shaking his head in sheer disbelief at the tactical genius unfolding on the screens.
For the next five laps, it was a high-speed game of chess. Every single time Lando fell out of the one-second DRS window, Carlos would lift off the throttle just enough to pull him back in. It was a terrifying tightrope walk. One lock-up, one miscalculation of a fraction of a second, and he would lose the lead.
But he didn't. He executed it with surgical, brutal precision.
When George Russell clipped the wall on the final lap, sending his Mercedes into the barriers, the tension in the Ferrari garage snapped. The eruption of noise was deafening. Mechanics were jumping, screaming, and hugging each other. You practically threw yourself at Caco, burying your face in his shoulder as you sobbed out of pure, unadulterated relief.
"CARLOS SAINZ, YOU ARE A RACE WINNER!" Ricky screamed over the radio as Carlos crossed the finish line, securing the only non-Red Bull victory of the entire 2023 season.
"Smooth operatorrrr!" Carlos sang back, his voice finally breaking with the emotion and exhaustion of the grueling race.
Ten minutes later, you were standing by the parc fermé barriers as he pulled the SF-23 into the P1 spot. The physical toll of the Singapore heat was evident the moment he pulled himself out of the cockpit. He looked completely drained, his fireproofs soaked with sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead.
But when he saw you, his eyes lit up with that familiar, boyish fire.
You slipped under the velvet rope before security could stop you, running straight into his arms. He caught you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, not caring about the cameras, the sweat, or the noise.
"You are a genius," you breathed into his ear, holding onto him as tightly as you could. "You are an absolute, terrifying genius, Carlos."
He let out a weak, exhausted laugh, leaning his heavy head against yours. "I told you I had it under control, jefa."
"Under control? You deliberately let them get within eight tenths of you!" you scolded playfully, finally pulling back to look at his face. "You took ten years off my life today, Sainz."
"But it worked," he grinned, that devastating, confident smile breaking through the exhaustion. He reached up, cupping your cheek with a slightly shaking, gloved hand. "It worked. We won."
-
ynuser
liked by friend1, friend2, friend3 and others
ynuser Lately 🏃🏻♀️🏺🥖 A little bit of everything that keeps me sane when I’m not studying or traveling! Survived my first half-marathon, made a vase that only leans slightly to the left, and perfected my sourdough recipe!! ✨
friend1 The pottery era is my favorite era. Can I claim that vase?!
ynuser @ friend1 it’s already yours! But you have to pretend it’s perfectly straight
carlossainz55 I can personally confirm the bread was gone in under ten minutes. So proud of you for the race, mi amor! ❤️
lando Next time you bake those chocolate chip cookies, please send them directly to my driver room, thank you
friend2 Doctor, marathon runner, baker… is there anything you can't do?!
ynuser @ friend2 endure Lando for more than 10 minutes 😪
user1 Carlos commenting about her bread 😭 we love a supportive boyfriend who appreciates carbs!
-
The winter break was supposed to be the quietest part of the year.
It was a chilly Thursday evening in early February. You had just finished a grueling ten-hour shift at the clinic, your brain completely fried from diagnosing back-to-back flu cases and adjusting hypertension medications. You were sitting in your car in the hospital parking lot, finally taking a second to look at your phone.
Your lock screen was an absolute disaster.
You had three missed calls from Caco, five messages from Lando consisting entirely of entirely capitalized question marks, and a barrage of F1 news alerts pushing through from Twitter and Instagram.
BREAKING: Lewis Hamilton to join Scuderia Ferrari in 2025.
Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.
You didn't even read the articles. You threw your car into drive and practically flew back to your shared apartment in Madrid. You knew Carlos had been in contract negotiations with Ferrari for months, pushing for a multi-year extension. You knew there were delays. But this? A sudden, tectonic shift in the driver market right before the 2024 season even started?
When you unlocked the front door and dropped your keys on the console table, the apartment was completely dark, save for the ambient city light spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
You found Carlos sitting in the living room. The television was off. He was just sitting on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly at the dark screen of his phone sitting on the coffee table.
"Carlos," you breathed out, shrugging off your coat and dropping your bag onto a chair.
He didn't look up immediately. He just let out a long, heavy exhale that sounded like it had been trapped in his lungs for hours. "Fred called me," he said, his voice eerily quiet. "Before the press release went out. He called me to tell me himself."
You walked over, kneeling on the rug between his knees so you could look up at his face. His eyes were shadowed, carrying a mixture of profound exhaustion and a quiet, stinging hurt. You reached out, placing your hands gently over his. His skin was ice cold.
"I'm so sorry, mi amor," you whispered, your thumbs tracing the knuckles of his hands.
"It's Lewis," Carlos muttered, a humorless, dry chuckle escaping his lips as he finally met your eyes. "I mean... how do you even argue with that? It's a seven-time world champion. If it was anyone else, I think I would be tearing this apartment apart. But it's Lewis Hamilton."
"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt," you reminded him softly. "You have given everything to this team for the last three years. You pulled them out of the midfield. You gave them their only win last year in Singapore. You are allowed to be angry."
Carlos closed his eyes, his jaw clenching tight. "I feel like I failed, Y/N. I thought I had done enough to prove I belonged there long-term. I thought we were building something together. And now, I have to walk into Maranello next week, put on that red suit, and drive an entire season knowing I'm just keeping the seat warm for someone else."
The raw vulnerability in his voice shattered your heart. You knew exactly how much Ferrari meant to him. It wasn't just a contract; it was the realization of a childhood dream, a legacy he desperately wanted to leave his mark on.
You shifted your grip, moving your hands up to cup his face. His scruff was rough against your palms, but he immediately leaned his weight into your touch, seeking the grounding anchor he always found in you.
"Listen to me," you said, your voice adopting that steady, unshakeable tone you used when you needed a patient to look you in the eye and listen to the diagnosis. "You did not fail. You drove flawlessly. You outsmarted the entire grid in Marina Bay. You proved you are championship material. Ferrari making a corporate, historic move for Lewis does not erase a single ounce of your talent."
Carlos swallowed hard, keeping his eyes closed as he let your words wash over him.
"You still have 24 races left in that car," you continued, your voice fierce with conviction. "24 races to show every single team principal on the grid exactly what they are missing out on. You don't walk into the garage with your head down. You walk in there, you get in that car, and you make them regret letting you go. You make yourself the most valuable free agent in the history of this sport."
He finally opened his eyes. The defeat that had been clouding his dark irises was slowly, agonizingly, being pushed aside by a familiar spark of stubborn, fiery Spanish pride.
"Twenty-four races," he repeated softly, the words testing the air.
"Twenty-four races," you confirmed, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. "And I will be right there for every single one of them. We are going to make this your best season yet. Deal?"
Carlos let out a shaky breath, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the faint scent of hospital sanitizer and your familiar perfume.
"What would I do without you, Doctor?" he mumbled against your skin, his grip tightening.
"You'll never have to find out," you whispered back, holding him just as tightly. "Now, come on. Let's get off the floor. I'm ordering pizza, and we are turning your phone off for the rest of the night."
-
The sterile, overly air-conditioned hospital room in Jeddah was a jarring contrast to the blistering heat and deafening roar of the Corniche Circuit.
You were sitting in a stiff plastic chair pulled flush against the hospital bed, your eyes scanning the digital monitor above Carlos’s head. As a Family Medicine doctor, reading vitals was second nature. Heart rate steady. Oxygen saturation perfect. Blood pressure returning to normal. The laparoscopic appendectomy had been completely textbook, leaving him with three small incisions and a heavy dose of IV antibiotics.
Clinically, he was perfectly fine.
Emotionally, as his girlfriend of nearly nine years, the last twenty-four hours had taken a massive toll on you.
When he had first complained of a stomach ache on Wednesday, everyone assumed it was food poisoning. But on Thursday, after he dragged himself out of the SF-24 following FP2, pale and sweating through his fireproofs, you had laid him down on the sofa in his driver room. The moment your fingers pressed into his right lower quadrant—specifically McBurney’s point—he had recoiled in absolute agony. The severe rebound tenderness, combined with the low-grade fever, had given you the diagnosis before the hospital’s CT scan even confirmed it.
Acute appendicitis.
A quiet groan pulled you from your thoughts. Carlos shifted on the bed, his face twisting in discomfort as the lingering anesthesia began to wear off. His dark eyelashes fluttered before his eyes finally cracked open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights.
"Hey," you breathed out, immediately leaning forward and wrapping both of your hands gently around his left hand, being careful to avoid the IV line taped to the back of his palm.
Carlos blinked a few times, trying to focus on your face. He looked incredibly pale, his signature messy curls plastered to his forehead. He swallowed hard, his throat dry from the intubation tube.
"Water?" you asked softly.
He nodded weakly. You poured a small amount of water into a plastic cup, slipping a straw between his lips and letting him take a few slow, careful sips. When he pulled back, he let his head fall heavy against the pillow, letting out a long, shuddering exhale.
"Did they..." his voice was a raspy whisper, barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning. "Is it out?"
"It's out," you confirmed, offering a small, relieved smile as your thumb brushed over his knuckles. "The surgery went perfectly. No rupture, no complications. You're going to be completely fine, Carlos."
He closed his eyes, relief washing over his exhausted features. But because he was Carlos Sainz, the relief only lasted for exactly three seconds before the racer in him woke up.
His eyes snapped open, a sudden panic setting in. "What day is it? What time is qualifying?"
"Carlos, stop," you said firmly, placing your free hand gently on his chest to keep him from trying to sit up. "Do not engage your core. It's Friday afternoon."
"I have to get back to the track," he mumbled, his brow furrowing as he tried to shift his weight, instantly hissing in pain as the movement pulled at his fresh incisions.
"You are not going anywhere near a race car," you ordered, your voice shifting effortlessly from a worried girlfriend into your strict, authoritative doctor tone. "You just had a major abdominal organ removed, Carlos. You have stitches through your muscle wall. If you try to pull 5Gs in a Formula 1 car right now, you will literally tear your own abdomen open."
He let his head drop back against the pillow, defeat washing over him in a devastating wave. The reality of missing the race—of sitting in a hospital bed while someone else drove his Ferrari—was hitting him harder than the physical pain.
"Who is in the car?" he asked quietly, staring up at the ceiling.
"Ollie Bearman," you answered gently. "Fred called him up from F2 this morning. He's taking care of it."
Carlos swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. "I should be there. With the team. I was so fast in practice, Y/N. The car felt so good."
"I know," you whispered, your heart breaking for him. You stood up, leaning over the bed to press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. His skin was finally cool, the fever having broken during the surgery. "And you will be back in that car before you know it. But right now, your only job is to rest. For once in your life, you are going to listen to medical advice."
Carlos turned his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. Even exhausted and drugged on painkillers, the sheer adoration in his gaze was entirely intact.
"Are you my doctor today, or my girlfriend?" he mumbled, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his dry lips.
"I'm both," you replied, running your fingers gently through his curls. "Which means you are in double the amount of trouble if you try to get out of this bed."
"Okay, Doctora," he whispered, his heavy eyelids already starting to droop as the medication pulled him back under. He shifted his hand weakly, lacing his fingers through yours and holding on as tightly as his current state allowed. "Thank you. For catching it. For staying."
"Always," you promised, kissing his knuckles. "Now go to sleep, Carlos. The track will be there when you wake up."
-
ynuser
liked by carlossainz55, friend1, lando and others
ynuser VIVA MÉXICO! 🇲🇽🏆 What a weekend, what a race, what a driver. From hospital beds to the top step in Mexico! You were absolutely untouchable out there today, @ carlossainz55!! so incredibly proud of you ❤️ (also, swipe to see a happy carlando reunion 🧡❤️)
carlossainz55 Gracias, mi amor. The absolute best support system in the world. Next time I'll let you lift the trophy, I promise it's heavier than it looks! ❤️
lando I'm just happy I finally made it into the aesthetic photo dump, to be honest (Congrats again, old man 🤝)
ynuser @ lando You earned your spot on the grid and on the feed today, Lando! P2! 🥈
scuderiaferrari Una vittoria fantastica! Thank you for the incredible support, Y/N!
friend1 The denim jacket look in the paddock?! Doctor Y/N serving absolute looks while her man dominates the track! 🗣️🔥
user1 From having his appendix removed to dominating Mexico City… his comeback this year needs to be studied in medical textbooks, Dr. Y/N!
ynuser @ user1 Trust me, I'm already writing the case study on his stubbornness! 😂
user2 THE PICTURE OF HIM WALKING PAST MCLAREN 😭😭 My Carlando heart is so full! The fact that they shared this podium is everything
teamcarlos The way she looks at him in the second slide 🥺 You can just see how proud she is of him. Nine years of this!
user3 The Mexican crowd chanting his name while Y/N watched from the garage… absolute cinema. Enjoy the celebrations tonight! 🥂✨
-
-
The crisp December wind biting at your cheeks did nothing to dull the absolute magic of the Fiorano Circuit.
It was December 17, 2024. The sky over Maranello was a pale, wintery blue, but the ground was a sea of vibrant, beating red. The Tifosi had lined the fences since dawn, their massive flags rippling in the breeze, chanting a name that had become woven into the fabric of their historic team over the last four years.
“Carlos! Carlos! Carlos!”
You stood at the edge of the pit lane, your hands tucked into the pockets of your dark winter coat. Next to you, Charles Leclerc leaned against the barrier, dressed in his civilian clothes but wearing a Ferrari beanie, a bittersweet smile on his face. He hadn’t been required to be here today, but he had insisted. He wouldn't have missed his teammate's final goodbye for the world.
A few feet away, Fred Vasseur was talking to the mechanics, orchestrating a farewell that felt less like a corporate send-off and more like a family celebration.
Suddenly, the unmistakable, earth-shaking roar of a modern V6 hybrid engine shattered the morning air. The crowd erupted into a deafening cheer.
Out of the garage rolled the F1-75. It was the exact chassis Carlos had driven to his maiden Formula 1 victory at Silverstone in 2022. Seeing it on the track again made your chest tighten with a rush of pride. But he wasn't alone. Pulling out right alongside him, engine revving in a beautiful, echoing harmony, was his father.
Watching Carlos and Carlos Sr. drive side-by-side down the Fiorano straight was absolute cinema. Two generations of motorsport royalty, sharing the asphalt in the most legendary cars in the world. They matched each other's pace perfectly, the sun glinting off their visors as they took the corners in tandem.
"He looks good in it, doesn't he?" Charles murmured beside you, his breath pluming in the cold air.
"He always did," you smiled softly, watching the F1-75 brake into the hairpin. "It’s hard to believe it’s really over."
"He left his mark," Charles said warmly, bumping his shoulder gently against yours. "We won't forget him. Italy won't forget him."
When the high-speed exhibition finished, the V6 engines were cut, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. But the tribute was far from over.
The mechanics wheeled out a pristine, open-cockpit 1950s Ferrari. It was a masterpiece of raw, vintage engineering, painted in that deep, classic Rosso Corsa.
Carlos climbed out of the F1-75, pulling off his helmet to reveal his messy curls. He was smiling so hard it looked like it hurt. He walked over to his dad, pulling him into a massive, back-slapping hug, before turning to the vintage machine waiting for him.
He didn't put his helmet back on. He just slipped into the leather driver's seat, gripped the wooden steering wheel, and fired up the thunderous, mechanical engine.
As Carlos began his slow lap of honor around Fiorano, he drove entirely with one hand. His other hand was raised high in the air, waving to the hundreds of Tifosi pressing against the chain-link fences. Fans were crying, lighting red flares that sent thick, scarlet smoke drifting across the track. He slowed down near the grandstands, shouting his thanks over the roar of the vintage engine, soaking in every single second of the love pouring down on him.
It was a goodbye fit for a king.
When he finally brought the classic car back to the pit lane, cutting the engine for the very last time as a Ferrari driver, the entire garage broke into a massive round of applause. Fred was the first to greet him, pulling him into a tight embrace, followed closely by Charles, who ruffled Carlos’s hair and whispered something that made them both laugh.
But as the crowd of mechanics and engineers slowly parted, Carlos’s dark eyes found yours.
He climbed out of the 50s Ferrari and walked straight toward you. The red race suit was smeared with a bit of grease, and his face was flushed from the cold and the adrenaline, but he looked completely at peace.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You held him tightly, resting your chin on his shoulder, the smell of exhaust, burning rubber, and his familiar cologne wrapping around you.
"We did it," he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. "Four years, Y/N."
"You did beautifully," you murmured back, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "You gave them everything you had. And they love you for it."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, that boyish, devastating grin lighting up his face despite the tears shining in his eyes. He reached up, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone.
"Are you ready for the next chapter, Doctor?" he asked softly.
You smiled, lacing your fingers with his as the Tifosi continued to sing his name in the background. "With you? Always. Let's go build a legacy at Williams."
-
ynuser
liked by friend1, carlosssainz55, carlosonoros and others
ynuser First day of school vibes! 🏫 Packed his breakfast, made sure we we're rocking our new blue shoes, and sent him off to grove with his ID badge securely glued to his hand. He even promised to make new friends and stay out of trouble 😐 so incredibly excited for this new chapter with @ williamsracing! Let’s go, @ carlossainz55! 💙
carlossainz55 You forgot to pack my favorite cookies, Doctor. But the new kit feels fast! Thank you for always taking care of me, mi amor ❤️
lando No way you actually made him hold a chalkboard 😭😭😭 I am crying laughing, this is elite parenting Y/N!
ynuser @ lando I had to document the milestone, Lando! He grew up so fast 🥺
williamsracing Welcome to your new classroom, Carlos! We promise to make sure he plays nice at recess, Y/N! 💙
alex_albon Don't worry Y/N, I'll show him where the lockers are and make sure he doesn't get lost around the factory 🤝 liked by ynuser
friend1 The "My Best Move: Smooth Operator" on the board is sending me into orbit. He is so deeply corny and we love him for it!!!
teamcarlos The ID badge selfie in the car is peak proud girlfriend energy. The blue era is officially underway! ✨ liked by ynuser
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ynuser
liked by friend1, friend2, carlossainz55 and others
ynuser THE BLUE ERA IS officially cooking! 💙🏆 You drove like an absolute demon today, @ carlossainz55. The operator remains incredibly smooth! 🌶️✨ (swipe for a very sweaty paddock kiss and caco celebrating with sparkles, bc why not?)
carlossainz55 We did it, mi amor!!! This one feels so, so special. Thank you for always being my anchor ❤️🏆
williamsracing History made today. First of many together! Thank you for being part of the family, Y/N! 💙 liked by ynuser
carlosonoros Unbelievable drive! The kiss in slide 3… okay you guys are trying to make the paddock cry today 🥺
lando The blue suit actually doesn't look half bad on you, mate. Brilliant drive, well deserved!
user1 Dr. Y/N watching from the balcony in slide 1 is such an iconic shot. She looks like a proud supervisor making sure he follows medical clearance! 🩺👑
user2 From the heartbreak of last February to standing on the podium in blue… what a journey. Y/N has been there through it all! ❤️ COLLABORATOR ERAS!
-
The neon lights of the Lusail International Circuit were blinding, but your eyes were completely glued to the timing screens in the Williams garage.
It was the 2025 Qatar Grand Prix, and Carlos had driven an absolute masterclass. Despite taking a grid penalty and starting from seventh position, he had carved his way through the field with ruthless precision. By the closing stages, he was sitting firmly in P3, on track to secure his second podium with Williams.
But with exactly four laps to go, the radio crackled.
"Something is broken in the front," Carlos's voice was tight, the physical exertion of manhandling the FW47 bleeding into the microphone. "I've lost a lot of front grip."
You stopped breathing. As a doctor, you were used to high-pressure situations, but watching the man you loved race a malfunctioning car at 300 kilometers per hour was a completely different kind of stress.
You watched the telemetry data drop in real-time. Carlos was suddenly losing anywhere from half a second to a full second per lap.
"Copy that, Carlos," James' voice came over the channel, steadying the entire garage. "Norris is closing. You just need to hold him off."
Because of the sudden loss of pace, Norris had caught up and slipped right into Carlos's DRS zone for a terrifying final shootout. It was a complete role reversal of their Singapore days, but Carlos wasn't backing down. He defended every single corner, placing the wounded Williams exactly where Lando wanted to be, refusing to yield an inch of asphalt.
When Max crossed the line to win, followed by Oscar, the entire Williams garage held its breath.
And then, Carlos dragged his car across the finish line, keeping Lando behind him by mere tenths of a second to secure third place.
The garage exploded. Mechanics were screaming, hugging each other, and slamming the desks. You let out a shaky, hysterical laugh, leaning heavily against the nearest counter as the pure adrenaline crashed out of your system.
When he finally pulled into parc fermé, he looked completely exhausted. The desert heat and the physical toll of fighting the broken car had drained him. But the moment he spotted you in the blue Williams team kit, that familiar, devastating grin broke across his face.
You slipped past the media pen, throwing your arms around his neck the second he was close enough.
"You are going to put me in cardiac arrest one of these days, Sainz," you breathed into his shoulder, holding him impossibly tight.
"Second podium in blue, Doctor," he laughed, the sound vibrating against you. "I told you we were building a legacy here."
-
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ynuser
liked by reyesvdec, carlossainz55, friend1 and others
ynuser How the ski trip started: Me yelling at @ carlossainz55 for making us hike up a freezing mountain when we could have been perfectly happy inside drinking hot chocolate 😪 How it ended: …okay, I guess the view was actually worth it. WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!!! 💍
carlossainz55 I told you I had a good reason for the hike! I love you so much, future Mrs. Sainz ❤️💍
ynuser @ carlossainz55 you are very lucky I didn't push you off the ridge before you pulled the box out! I love you! ❤️
lando Can I be the ring bearer? Or the flower girl? Actually, I’m just assuming I am the Best Man. (Massive congrats guys, so happy for you!!! ❤)
ynuser @ lando you can be in charge of the wedding cake, Lando!
carlosonoros It only took a decade and risking frostbite to finally make it happen! So incredibly happy for you both 🥂
williamsracing Massive congratulations to you both from everyone at Grove! 💙💍
friend1 THE ROCK!!! 🗣️ THE KNEE IN THE SNOW!!! 🗣️ DR. Y/N IS OFFICIALLY TYING THE KNOT I AM IN SHAMBLES!!!
user1 I HAVE NEVER SCREAMED SO LOUD AT MY PHONE. We survived the midfield, we survived the Ferrari pressure, we survived an appendectomy, and now we are getting a wedding!!! 😭
user2 The photo of him on one knee in the middle of the mountains… absolute cinema. He is so romantic!
user3 A diamond almost as blinding as the snow! 🤩 We are going to need all the details of this proposal immediately! Congratulations! ✨
sypnosys: every team Carlos Sainz joins suddenly has an official social media account that is deeply, hopelessly "down bad" for the paddock’s favorite rookie-turned-pro photographer, Y/N.
author's note: hello guys, sorry for dissaperead! but the school keeps me busy, but now i'm on vacations so hopefully i get to share more smaus with all of you <3 xx
masterlist
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ★ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
renault f1 team - username
We hit different when you’re the one taking the photos. Great shot! 🌶️
user - username
wait… did the renault admin just flirt?
user - username
the pepper emoji?? is the admin okay?? lmao
-
renault f1 team - username
We already told them you’re a VIP. And that you like extra sugar in your coffee 🌶️
Y/N snapshots - username
@ renaultf1team ...how does the Admin know my coffee order?
renault f1 team - username
@ yn_snapshots A little bird told us. A very fast, Spanish bird 🌶️
user - username
"A fast Spanish bird" CARLOS???
user - username
No, Carlos is too focused on his neck training to be the admin. Probably just a fan.
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mclaren
liked by carlossainz55 and 1.1M users
mclaren Unpopular opinion: Our cars look better through @ ynsnapshots’s lens than they do in person. Don’t tell the engineers 🌶️
landonorris I’ve seen the Admin’s browser history. It’s just Y/N’s portfolio and "how to cook authentic paella." Suspicious. 🤨
mclaren @ landonorris Focus on your sim racing, Lando. Adults are talking. 🌶️
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ynsnapshots
lliked by carlossainz55 and 669,531 users
ynsnapshots Red is the hardest color to edit 🏎️❤️
scuderiaferrari Everything is easier to look at when you’re the one behind the camera. Truly a masterpiece 🌶️
charles_leclerc @ scuderiaferrari Admin? You okay? You’ve never called my photos a masterpiece…
scuderiaferrari @ charles_leclerc Improve your lighting, Charles. 🌶️
user The "travelling admin" theory is real. There is no way the Ferrari admin is the same person who was at Renault, but the VIBE is the same
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user - username
If the @ williams account doesn't use a 🌶️ emoji within the first week of Carlos joining, we’ll know he’s been replaced by a robot.
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ynsnapshots
liked by williams and 995,230 users
ynsnapshots Bahrain testing done! 🇧🇭 Back in the desert and already missing sleep. Who’s ready for the season opener? 🏎️💨
alex_albon I look great. My mum will love this. Thanks Y/N! liked by ynsnapshots
williams The car looks fast, but you look like you need a coffee. Or a date. Or both? 🌶️
ynsnapshots @ williams careful admin, people will start talking... again.
user THE CHILI IS BACK.
scuderiaferrari Hey @ williams, get in line. She was our muse first.
- Carlos POV
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user - username
It’s the 🌶️ emoji for me. It’s been 8 years. Either Y/N is dating the same Admin who just follows Carlos everywhere, or this is a conspiracy.
lando - username
trust me… it’s a conspiracy. And it’s hilarious.
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ynsnapshots
liked by carlossainz55 and 945,128 users
ynsnapshots Golden hour looks different this year 🌅
williams A stunning capture. Excellence in every frame 💙 liked by ynsnapshots
williams @ williams And the hair is perfect. 10/10. Needs a spicy 🌶️ to match the vibe.
user NO WAY. Did the admin just reply to themselves to add a chili?!
user the admin is fighting for their life in the comments right now
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ynsnapshots
liked by williams and 1.0M users
ynsnapshots Locked in for the weekend. The energy in Miami is already unreal 💙✨ @ carlossainz55 @ williams
lando Why does he look like he’s trying to calculate the exact percentage of milk in his coffee? 🥱
charles_leclerc The dramatic profile shot… classic Carlos
williams A true masterpiece. The determination in his eyes, the perfection of the jawline… simply unmatched talent behind the camera (and in front of it) 🌶️🌶️
alex_albon @ williams admin, blink twice if Carlos is currently holding your iPad hostage in the hospitality suite.
williams @ alex_albon I am perfectly fine, Alex. Go practice your golf swing or something. 🌶️
georgerussell63 @ williams I don't recall the team account ever using "perfection of the jawline" to describe my podium photos, admin. Care to explain?
williams @ georgerussell63 Your jawline doesn't bring in 50k likes in three minutes, George. Business is business 🌶️🌶️🌶️
user THE ADMIN IS OUT OF CONTROL TODAY. Three chilis?! Carlos didn't even try to hide his typing style on this one 😭
ynsnapshots @ williams ...admin, please go drink some water.
-
Internal Email — Williams Racing
From: Social Media Manager To: C. Sainz
Subject: PLEASE STOP.
Carlos, I know you have the iPad. I changed the password to VowlesIsTheBoss123 and somehow you still got in. James is asking why our engagement metrics are 400% higher on photos of Y/N than they are on the actual race results. Please. Give it back.
From: C. Sainz To: Social Media Manager
Subject: Re: PLEASE STOP.
I do not know what iPad you are talking about. Also, you should post the photo of me and Y/N in the pitlane. The one where she is laughing at my joke. It is good for the "narrative"
-
Y/N and Carlos are sitting at dinner. Y/N is scrolling through her phone, laughing.
"Carlos, the fans have started a 'Chili Count.' They’ve noticed that if the comment has one chili, it’s the Admin trying to blend in, but if it has three, it’s definitely you."
Carlos smirking over his wine. "They are getting too smart. I will have to start using a different emoji. Maybe the lemon?"
"If you use a lemon, Lando will figure it out in two seconds."
"Fine. No emojis. Just... very aggressive flirting."
"That’s even more obvious!"
- One week later
It’s Grand Prix weekend, and Carlos is doing a live, fan-facing Williams Twitch stream from his driver room. He’s supposed to be playing a racing simulator game while answering fan questions, but his phone is resting right next to his keyboard.
The camera frames Carlos wearing his team polo, leaning back in his gaming chair. In the background, the stream's live text chat is flying at supersonic speed.
[LIVE CHAT]
user ask him about the admin theory!!
user carlos why did williams post a chili pepper on Y/N’s story today??
user Carlos look at the chat lmao
Carlos: (Squinting at the monitor) "Why is everyone talking about chilis? Guys, we are here to talk about the upgrades for the weekend. The floor modification is giving us much better stability in the high-speed corners—"
Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a notification banner. Because his phone is hooked up to the stream capture card to show "A Day in the Life" mobile photos later, the notification mirrors directly onto the live stream layout.
ynsnapshots Behind the scenes with the hardest working man in the paddock 🛠️📸
Without thinking, Carlos unlocks his phone. The entire Twitch audience watches his screen seamlessly transition. He doesn't open the personal carlossainz55 account.
He opens the williams official profile.
Carlos's thumbs move with lightning speed. He doesn't even realize his screen is still broadcasting to 45,000 live viewers.
[ON SCREEN]
williams is typing a comment under ynsnapshots's post...
“The car is fast, but you are the real view today. See you at the motorhome for dinner, mi amor 🌶️🌶️🌶️”
He hits 'Send.'
The live chat stops moving for a fraction of a second. Then, it absolutely detonates.
user CARLOS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
user WRONG ACCOUNT BRO WRONG ACCOUNT
chili_stan: HE DOING IT LIVE!!! HE IS THE ADMIN!!!
user THE "MI AMOR"??? THE CHILI??? I AM SCREAMING
user HE EXPOSED HIMSELF LMAOOOOO
Carlos: (Reading the chat, smiling confidently) "Why are you all saying 'wrong account'? I am just reading the—"
He looks down at his phone. He looks up at the stream output monitor. He sees his own screen capture showing the Williams profile picture next to his flirty comment.
Carlos goes completely pale. The "Smooth Operator" has crashed.
Carlos: "...Oh, carajo." (oh, fuck)
He abruptly cuts the stream. The screen goes black.
-
ynsnapshots
liked by carlossainz55 and 2.5M users
ynsnapshots The admin has officially been fired 🌶️
carlossainz55 It was a good run. Worth it ❤️
alex_albon Can I have my team polo back now, Carlos? Or are you going to tweet from my account next? liked by ynsnapshots
williams Honestly, we might hire him back as a consultant. The "Mi Amor" comment got us a trending topic worldwide 😏
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x fem!Reader
Word Count: SMAU + blurbs
Summary: The high after his podium leaves him feeling a little too reckless.
Content: Established relationship, profanity, hangovers, use of y/n
Liked by williamsracing, jv.f1 and 635K others
carlossainz55 VAMOS! Finally bringing home the goods 💪
view all comments
alex_albon the GOAT
liked by carlossainz55
maxverstappen1 Can't wait to share the podium with you more often 🦁
liked by carlossainz55
charles_lerclerc Such a masterclass mate 👏
liked by carlossainz55
user8 GO WEEYUMS!!
user12 💙💙💙
user9 there's something symbolic about Carlos getting a podium before Lewis..
⤷ user7 stfu bro
⤷ user9 wah wah look whose crying
liked by 5,290
f1gossipoffical sources have reported seeing Carlos Sainz clubbing with an unknown woman after the Azerbaijan Grand Prix
view all comments
user3 FINALLY. my man got some game
user7 seriously?? Now he's out here picking up chicks left and right. He's gonna fall off already 😂
⤷ user1 get a life
user10 who is she? WHO IS SHE
user8 They didn't even try to be discreet LOL
user2 I thought we established this. he's my bf
⤷ user13 parasocial type shit
user12 👀👀
—
Carlos didn’t awake to the sun; no, he awoke to an arm straight to his chest.
“Cariño–” a piercing headache caused his brain to stutter. “Dios, how much did we drink last night?”
But he didn’t receive an answer right away; she was still peacefully sleeping. Because he was a good boyfriend, and even though she starfish-ed out across the mattress again, he didn’t disturb her. Instead, he took to social media.
And what a surprise that was.
Years of secrecy were exposed by some gossip account; he had half a mind to sue the person behind it, but nothing was illegal about taking a picture in a public place.
“Joder, joder, joder.” He took to pacing around the room, trying to think of a solution. His pacing around wasn't exactly keeping quiet.
“Carlos?” He paused mid-step, his mouth trying to form words, but he was left frozen.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Her voice was hoarse from their impromptu karaoke. Softened eyes stared at him. Those always undid him.
“Come here.” She opened her arms, and he instinctively drew near, pulling her into a bear hug. His head lay in the crook of her shoulder, breathing in the scent of saltwater and vanilla.
“I–I was stupid. Someone caught us and posted photos online.” Her breath hitched, but the hands caressing his back didn’t stop.
“You’re not stupid; it was bound to happen.”
“But–”
“No buts.” She cradled his cheeks with her warm hands; his plush lips made him look like a pitiful fish.
“I knew that when we started this, it would eventually come to light. It’s okay.”
“But you wanted it to be just between us–”
“There you go again with the buts.” She squeezed his cheeks a little harder. “It’s been two years. I’m very grateful that we agreed to keep it just our secret, but I really want to show off my paddock outfits.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Maybe.”
She leaned in as their mouths danced together with familiarity and warmth.
“Te amo, mi amor.”
“Me too, idiot.”
—
alex😾 & Chili
alex😾
HELLO?? I left you alone for one night and suddenly your relationship is outed to the entire world
Chili
Yeah..
alex😾
so did she kill you or what?
Chili
No, she was very understanding.
alex😾
bye okay 😭
if that was me and lily she would’ve had my HEAD
Chili
Yeah, we’re going to officially announce it later today
The damage is already done
alex😾
well I’ll always have your guys’ back
I always liked her more than you anyways
Chili
HEY
But seriously, thank you
Alex😾
ofc man
—
liked by carlossainz55, yourbff and 12,782 others
yn Since you all are so fucking NOSY, here's my bf 🩷
tagged carlossainz55
view all comments
carlossainz55 Cariño 😘
liked by yn
yourbff HOTTIE ALERT
liked by yn
⤷ yn POLICE SHE'S RIGHT HERE!! love u babes
liked by yourbff
lando about time @/carlossainz55
liked by yn and carlossainz55
williamsracing queen you dropped this 👑
liked by yn
⤷ yn admin can I give you a friendship bracelet?
⤷ williamsracing girl ofc, I already have so many to give you
user1 PURR
user6 ok gorgeous!! who even is the other guy?
liked by yn
user17 bye I wish I was as cool as her 😔
user2 🤢🤢
⤷ user14 deadass. are we fucking 10
liked by charles_leclerc, alex_albon, and 312K others
carlossainz55 Mi amor ❤️
tagged yn
view all comments
yn :) 🩷
liked by carlossainz55
alex_albon when can I meet her??
⤷ lilymhe ignore him. I NEED to meet her now!!
⤷ alex_albon babe you're breaking my heart
jv.f1 Welcome to the Williams family, @/yn!
liked by carlossainz55 yn
⤷ yn thanks James 🫶
williamsracing we are ready for your paddock arrival @/yn 💙
liked by carlossainz55 and yn
lando bro her fashion already tops yours
liked by yn
charles_leclerc Leo licked the screen in approval. He's awaiting belly rubs
liked by carlossainz55 and yn
user3 IT'S OFFICIAL PEOPLE. SOUND THE ALARMS!
user17 I love when attractive people get together
liked by yn
⤷ yn me too 😉
—
“You’re so hot.”
“Where is this coming from, mi amor?”
She lazily pecked his stubble. “Mmm–nowhere.”
Masterlist | Ask Inbox
a/n first smau!! honestly I had so much fun making this
Summary: Carlos will forever fulfil his girlfriends wishes. Even if all he has to do is pick her up.
The trend had been sitting in Yn’s saved videos for three days.
She lay on the couch, curled slightly on her side, phone held above her face, thumb flicking up and down as the same clip replayed again. A girl laughing. A guy bracing himself. Hands at her waist. A lift. A triumphant cheer when she landed on his shoulders.
“Okay, but that one was cheating,” Yn muttered to herself, rewinding. “He definitely goes to the gym twice a day.”
She bit her lip, eyes sparkling anyway.
Behind her, the sound of keys dropping into the bowl by the door echoed softly through the apartment. A familiar rhythm of footsteps followed, unhurried, relaxed.
“Amor?” Carlos called. “I’m home.”
“In here,” she answered quickly, already pushing herself upright.
Carlos appeared in the doorway a second later, still in his team polo, hair slightly damp from a quick shower at the factory. He smiled the moment he saw her, that easy, warm smile that always made her chest feel too full.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” she replied, mirroring it.
He leaned down, kissed her forehead first—always the forehead—then her lips, slow and unforced. When he pulled back, he noticed the look in her eyes.
That look.
The I have an idea look.
“What,” he said, amused already. “What are you planning?”
Yn grinned and sat up straighter, tucking her legs beneath her. “Okay, promise you won’t laugh.”
Carlos crossed his arms, pretending to think. “I can’t promise that.”
“Carlos.”
“I’m joking,” he said quickly. “Go on.”
She unlocked her phone and held it out to him. “There’s this trend.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Of course there is.”
“No, listen,” she said, laughing. “It’s actually really cute. Couples do it together.”
He took the phone, watching the video carefully. A guy stood behind his girlfriend, braced himself, then lifted her up so she sat on his shoulders. The girl squealed, clinging to his head, both of them laughing uncontrollably.
Carlos watched the whole thing without interrupting, then glanced back at Yn.
“And?” he asked.
“And,” she said, suddenly shy, “I want to do it with you.”
There it was. That little flicker of hesitation in her eyes, like she wasn’t sure if she was asking for too much.
Carlos handed the phone back without hesitation. “Okay.”
Her mouth fell open. “Wait—really?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
“You didn’t even—”
“I don’t need to think,” he interrupted gently. “If you want to do it, we do it.”
Yn’s face lit up like she’d just been given the best surprise of her life. She bounced slightly where she sat. “Really?”
“Really,” he repeated. “I mean, I think I can handle it.”
She stood up immediately, excitement buzzing through her. “Okay, okay, wait. Let me set the camera.”
Carlos watched her move around the living room, pushing the coffee table back, adjusting her phone against a stack of books. She kept glancing back at him, smiling like she couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
“You’re sure?” she asked again.
He chuckled. “You’re very light, cariño.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That is a dangerous thing to say.”
“It’s a compliment,” he said, hands up. “I swear.”
She laughed and went to stand in front of him, facing away. “So, how does it work? Do I jump? Or—”
“No jumping,” Carlos said immediately. “I don’t want you hitting your head.”
She nodded obediently. “Okay.”
He stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her back, smell her shampoo. He placed one hand lightly at her waist, the other ready, testing balance more than anything.
“You ready?” he asked quietly.
She inhaled, then nodded. “Ready.”
In one smooth motion, barely any effort at all, Carlos lifted her.
Yn barely had time to gasp before she was rising, the floor moving away beneath her feet. His arm was firm, steady, like she weighed nothing at all. She let out a surprised laugh as he settled her onto his shoulders, his hands secure at her calves.
“Oh my - Carlos!” she squealed.
He laughed too, the sound deep and delighted. “See? Easy.”
“I thought I was going to die,” she said breathlessly, gripping his head. “But I’m alive. I’m so alive.”
“You’re dramatic,” he teased.
“I am on your shoulders,” she shot back. “I think I’m allowed.”
He adjusted slightly, making sure she was balanced. “You good?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, then softer, “I’m really good.”
She looked down at him, her hands tangled lightly in his hair, heart racing—not from fear, but from how safe she felt. How strong his arms were. How effortless it had been.
“You okay?” she asked.
He looked up at her, smiling. “I like hearing you laugh.”
Her chest tightened. “Carlos.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.
They stayed like that for a moment, the camera still recording, neither of them caring anymore.
Then Carlos shifted his stance slightly.
“Okay,” he said casually, “hold on.”
“Why?” Yn asked suspiciously.
“For fun.”
Before she could protest, he let her slide—just a little—just enough for her to gasp.
“Carlos!” she shrieked.
He caught her instantly, strong arms wrapping around her as she fell forward into his chest. He laughed as he lifted her again, this time cradling her bridal style like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh my god,” she said between giggles. “You’re evil.”
“Maybe a little,” he admitted.
He turned slowly, spinning her around the room. Yn threw her head back, laughter spilling out of her uncontrollably.
“Stop—stop—I can’t breathe!” she laughed.
“No,” he said, grinning. “You’re having fun.”
“I am,” she admitted, gripping his shoulder. “Too much fun.”
He hoisted her slightly higher, making her squeal again, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.
Her laughter softened into a breathless smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me.”
“I really do,” she said without hesitation.
He slowed, then stopped, still holding her securely. Their faces were close now, her arm looped around his neck.
“Did we get it?” she asked.
Carlos glanced toward the phone, still recording. “I think so.”
She laughed softly and rested her forehead against his. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d say yes so fast.”
He shrugged slightly. “I like doing things with you.”
She looked at him, really looked at him, eyes warm and full. “You make me feel so small in the best way.”
He frowned just a little. “Small?”
“Safe,” she clarified quickly. “Taken care of. Like I don’t have to be strong all the time.”
His expression softened instantly. “You don’t.”
She smiled. “I know.”
He carried her to the couch and sat down carefully, still not letting go until she was settled against him. She curled into his side, tucking her legs over his lap.
“You’re going to break the internet,” he teased.
She laughed. “With my terrible balance?”
“With your laugh,” he corrected. “People like that.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I like doing silly things with you.”
“I like being silly with you,” he replied. “It’s easy.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his arm.
“Can we watch it?” she asked.
He reached for her phone. “If you promise not to make me do it again.”
She grinned. “No promises.”
He laughed, shaking his head as he pressed play.
On the screen, her surprise, her joy, his laughter - it all played back, raw and unfiltered. Real.
Yn watched with a soft smile, then looked up at him. “I’m really happy.”
Carlos kissed the top of her head. “Me too.”
And in that quiet living room, with laughter still lingering in the air, it felt like the simplest thing in the world.
summary: you get your first high profile client as an escort and it's not who you expected.
content: smut 18+, threesome, oral (male receiving), unprotected pnv (wrap it up), rough sex (like really rough), dirty talk, choking (please be safe), spanking (like a lot), aftercare <3
note: i can't believe this left my sick and twisted mind. marge if you see this i'm dreadfully sorry.
you were new to the escort world. you mostly served as a date for older men, occasionally dancing at stag dos and birthdays, sometimes more.
you liked it well enough, and it paid well. it was a good way for you to get through university.
you were lounging on the couch when you got a call from your agency.
“hello, how are you doing?” your manager asks you.
“i’m doing alright, did you have another appointment for me?” you return. you were told to call the meetings “appointments” made them sound less like what they were.
“well i wanted to ask you something. we have a very high profile client asking for a new girl, but it’s more than you’ve done before.” she starts, piquing your interest.
“right.”
“i know you’ve done some private dances before and such, but i wanted to make sure that was ok with you before slotting you in.”
“yeah that’s fine.” a million thoughts running through your head. who’s the client? would you know them? how much would you make?
“he may ask you to go further, but you don’t have to, whatever you’re comfortable with.” she continues, reminding you.
“yeah, that’s fine, i’ll be happy to do it.” you’re giddy. this was the first high profile client you’d been offered.
“whatever happens, let us know and we’ll bill him for it all. he also likes to invite friends occasionally, and he pays for them too.”
this was getting better and better. you found yourself hoping that it wasn’t weird old men.
“just let me know the date and time and i’ll be ready.” you respond.
“alright perfect, and wear the black dress.” you had a lot of black dresses, but only one was the black dress.
you conclude your conversation and hang up the phone.
you go to your closet and pick it up. to call it a dress was generous. but based on your conversation with your manager, it wouldn’t be on for very long.
the top part was like a bikini, tying up behind your neck. the skirt barely covered your ass. it would definitely expose you if it shifted or rode up.
but guys loved it. it made you look more desirable than anything else you owned.
it meant you didn’t wear a bra, but when you did private dances, that didn’t really matter. they all wanted to see your bare chest anyway.
-
the day had finally come. saturday night. the car was almost there to pick you up.
you check your makeup in the mirror for the last time, adding the final layer of setting spray.
you knew this look was going to have to last.
you leave the bathroom, grabbing your purse and strapping up your heels.
finally you put in your massive coat, hiding your outfit to the outside world.
you get into the car waiting for you, and the driver pulls away.
you have no idea where you’re going, but you know that the driver will be outside the entire time, and if anything goes wrong, you can call him up with a small button you keep in your purse.
your manager hadn’t given you much more information. just the date and time, and how you should do your hair and makeup.
the client was a complete mystery.
you feel the car slowing and you’re pulled up in front of a hotel.
“i’ll be in the lot if you need anything, the room number is 314.” he says to you, looking in the mirror.
you nod and get out. you’re so nervous.
you get inside the hotel and make your way towards the elevators.
you get one to yourself, and push the button for the third floor.
you’re tapping your foot to distract yourself, hands fiddling with your purse.
you get off the lift on the third floor and make your way to 314. you knock on the door, your curiosity eating you alive.
your shocked when the door is opened to reveal lando norris.
“hello.” he says, looking at you. “come in.” he gestures towards the room.
you’re so gassed. finally no more ugly old men. this was how you knew you made it.
“you don’t mind if i have my friend here, do you?” he asks as you spot carlos sainz lounging on the couch.
you set your purse down to the side.
“no, that’s quite alright.” you smile at him. “it’s a bit hot in here, don’t you think?” you smile, dropping your coat to the floor.
“dios mio.” carlos says as he admires your figure. “they sent a good one this time lando.” he’s looking over at his friend.
lando looks you over, smirking. he was very pleased with his purchase.
“would you like a drink love?” he asks, moving towards the fridge.
“oh no that’s alright.” you smile at him. you weren’t allowed to get drunk when working.
he gets two beers for himself and carlos, and moves to the couch, sitting down.
“you gonna dance for us angel?” lando turns on his speaker, putting on some music.
you dance by yourself first, letting yourself get immersed in the music.
after you’ve warmed up for a few songs, you move over to the men. you touch lando first, and then go after carlos.
i feel the rush, addicted to your touch.
you sit down in lando’s lap, straddling him and grinding on him. your fingers rake over his chest. you make eye contact with him, licking your lips.
you give him a wink as you get up. you move over to carlos. you sit down on him, your back to his chest.
you lean forward with your hands on your knees. you grind your ass against his crotch, letting him see everything.
his hands roughly grab your hips and you lean into it. your dress was riding up, revealing your thong underneath.
“carlos be nice. we don’t even know what she’s down for.” lando looks over at you. you smile at him, continuing to move against his friend.
“i’ll do almost anything you want me to.” you have that sweet look on your face. trying to look seductive.
i like girls who make love, but i love girls who like to fuck.
lando exchanges a look with his friend.
“you’ll suck him off?” carlos asks you, looking at your face over your shoulder.
“would you like that lando?” you get off of carlos, moving in front of lando. you sink to your knees, positioning yourself between his open legs.
“i don’t think i told you my name.” he smirks at you. “you know who i am?” you nod.
“i bet she gets off on it.” carlos laughs. you bite your lip nervously.
“well since you’ve been so good to us so far, i’ll let you suck me off.” lando unzips his pants. he moves them down his hips along with his boxers.
his cock is almost fully hard, springing free from his underwear.
you kick your lips in anticipation, moving towards him.
you swirl your tongue around the tip, looking at him to see his reaction.
he throws his head back before returning to look at you. he wants to see you suck him off. that pretty mouth around his cock, how could he not?
you take him in your mouth, gagging as you hit the base.
lando’s hand moves to your hair, grabbing it in a fist.
he guides you with his hand, moving you up and down his shaft.
“god. so beautiful.” he groans, unable to look away.
you look at him with wide eyes and he can’t help but move you faster. the way you look at him drives him crazy.
almost as crazy as your mouth makes him. the feeling of his cock hitting your throat was amazing. he couldn’t help but wonder what your cunt would feel like.
“shit cariño.” carlos is watching you, fascinated by the scene in front of him. you’re unsure if he’s talking to you or lando.
lando moves his other hand to your cheek. rubbing circles with his thumb.
“she’s perfect carlos. you have to try.” he throws a glance to his friend before returning to you.
he loved the shape of your mouth. he loved watching his cock slide in an out. he was bewitched by you.
he starts to move you faster. still letting you swirl your tongue around the tip
he’s put over the edge and finishes down your throat.
you can feel him twitching. it makes you even more wet. you swallow all of his load, licking your lips after he pulls out. a string of saliva connecting you before you swallow that too.
“shall we take her to the bedroom carlos?” lando looks over at his friend.
you untie your top, letting your tits spill free.
“fuck.” carlos is staring at you. he wastes no time, moving towards you to push your dress down your hips and off your body.
he takes you to the bedroom and pushes you onto the bed. he rips your thong off.
“be nice carlos.” lando follows behind him. he’s lost the rest of his clothing, now naked like you.
carlos goes to take his shirt off, salivating at the thought of you.
his pants follow and he’s on top of you.
he wastes no time putting it in, drawing a moan from your lips.
he’s grasping at your hips, fingers digging in.
he fucks you relentlessly. ramming into your tight cunt over and over again.
you can feel him brushing your cervix, you back is arched of the mattress.
he reaches up to pinch your nipple, making you let out a sharp gasp. he rolls it in between his finger and thumb.
“fuck carlos.” you’re screaming. so much is going on, he’s fucking you so hard, your eyes rolling back into your head.
“shut her up lando.” carlos directs his friend. lando gets up and moves over to your face, cock hard again.
he puts two fingers into your mouth for you to suck on.
“god you’re such a dirty slut,” carlos continues to thrust against you. “so tight for such a whore. fuck you feel good” his hand on your hip give you a sharp slap.
all of a sudden, lando stuffs something in your mouth. you recognize it at your thong.
he gives you a slap on you cheek and grabs your jaw, making you look at him.
“you like it rough, don’t you? you want us to use you. i bet you wouldn’t even care if you didn’t cum.” lando looks at you. he demeanour completely transformed.
he has a hunger in his eyes that you hadn’t seen from him. he seemed to leave that to carlos.
“there you are lando.” carlos smirks, continuing to abuse your perfect pussy.
“you know what? i don’t think i will let you cum.” lando’s hand moves to your neck, giving it a slight squeeze.
carlos gives your breast a slap, leaving your skin stinging.
it just leaves you wanting more. you’re lucky your mouth is stuffed because the noises that would leave it would leave you utterly ashamed.
you didn’t want to admit to yourself that you were getting off on this, but the pain just felt so good.
“what do you think, should i let you?” lando asks you, removing your panties from your mouth.
all you can do is look at him, totally distracted. carlos is still fucking you, you can’t believe he has this kind of stamina. he’s also grabbing at your body, surely leaving bruises.
lando slaps your face again. this time harder. you really feel it this time.
“i asked you a question slut.” he’s admiring the red mark on your face. fuck it makes him even harder.
you just nod your head. you feel so close that if he doesn’t let you, you think you might combust.
“use your words.” he hits your other cheek.
“y-yes, please lando.” you look up at him, eyes wide. he sticks his thumb into your mouth.
“well you have been so good.” he looks over to carlos. “you close mate?” he asks his friend.
“been trying not to cum.” his thrusts are sloppy, no longer at a continuous interval.
lando removes his thumb from your mouth and presses it to your clit, your body is so tightly strung that it’s overstimulating.
“come on. i said you could.” lando hits you again. and just like that you finish around carlos.
you’re shaking, but lando keeps toying with you as carlos finishes inside of you.
“c’mon mate, it’s my turn.” carlos pulls out of you, letting lando take over.
he wastes no time shoving into you, his thrusts just as rough and deep as carlos.
he suddenly pulls out, and flips you around so that you’re in all fours.
“what a pretty ass.” lando pushes back in, pace the same as before.
he lands a smack right to your ass, leaving a red hand print. whorish sounds leave your mouth.
lando grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you up.
“shut the fuck up.” he drops you again. “do you want people to hear you?”
“i bet she does, probably likes being walked in on, stupid slut.” carlos chimes in.
“keep quiet, and if you’re a good girl, carlos will fuck that pretty mouth.” lands hands are on your hips, fingers digging in.
you have your face in the pillow to muffle your whines, your hands grasp at the sheets to try and ground yourself.
you start pushing back to meet lando, desperate to finish again.
lando pulls out of you, smacking your ass.
“no. i’ll tell you if you can cum again.” he spanks you again “say you’re sorry.”
“i’m sorry lando.” you whimper, wanting him inside of you again.
“that’s what i thought. don’t even think about it until i tell you that you can.” he pushes back into again, continuing to pound into you.
he spanks you again. leaving your entire ass bright red. the stinging long forgotten at this point.
“you want to suck carlos off?” he’s asking but you know it’s not a question.
he grabs your hair again, pulling your face out of the pillow.
carlos takes the hint and moves under you, letting you suck him off.
tears spring from your eyes, drenching your face.
“i don’t know what’s better, her cunt or her mouth. mierda.” carlos throws his head back.
he adds a bit of pressure to your neck, and you look up at him.
“you like that don’t you?” he laughs at the fucked out look on your face.
you just look at him, too cock drunk to form solid thoughts.
lando spanks you again, making you clench down around him.
“i’ve decided i’ll let you cum again, but not yet. don’t do it until i tell you that you can.”
the words barely register. you’re so full of cock that it’s all you can think about.
carlos takes his hand off your throat and instead moves it to the back of your head.
he fists your hair, moving you up and down his cock, not caring that you’re gagging and crying.
“you can take it.” he knows that he’s close, wanting to finish down your pretty throat.
you feel him relent as the salty taste his your tongue. you swallow his load like you did with lando’s.
carlos takes his cock out of your mouth, his thumb catching the tears falling down your face.
your make up is complete ruined, mascara running.
“god she’s gorgeous.” carlos stars at your lips. there’s a bit of blood leaving them after you bit down to hard.
lando can feel himself getting closer, he allows himself to get sloppy.
his hand snakes around your body to touch your clit again.
“not yet.” he says after you let out a whimper.
he knows he almost there, needing you to cum around his cock.
“alright darling, go on.” something inside of you snaps and your vision goes bright white.
you cum harder than you ever have in your entire life. body collapsing on carlos, completely spent.
lando finishes after you, filling you up.
he lets you come down from your high, body sweaty and exhausted.
he pulls out, watching his cum drip out of your abused cunt. he gets the urge to slap it, but he doubts that you can take anymore. maybe next time.
“just hold her for a minute.” lando gets up from behind you. he goes to the bathroom to run you a bath.
turning the tap on, he lets the tub start to fill as he comes back to the bedroom.
he picked you up off of carlos.
“get dressed mate. i’ll see you later.” lando says to his friend.
he was used to this. lando always did the aftercare, wanting carlos to go back to his own hotel room.
carlos was glad to let him, he wouldn’t know how to comfort an escort like you. so he gets dressed, and takes his things, leaving the hotel room to go back to his own.
lando sets you down on the counter, moving to fill the bath up with bubble bath.
once the tub is significantly filled, he picked you up again, setting you down into it.
he sits behind you, his arms wrapping around you.
“are you alright?” he whispers in your ear, not wanting to scare you.
you nod, almost in shock of what just happened to you. you’d never experienced anything like it before.
to say you enjoyed it would be an understatement, it was just not what you expected.
“come on angel, use your words.” his thumbs rubs little circles into your skin.
“i’m ok.” you allow yourself to relax into lando, your back to his chest.
he lets you sit in the hot water for ten minutes, you let yourself drift off.
you feel him moving behind you, waking you up.
“what time is it?” you ask, coming to.
“time for you to go love, come on.” he helps you out of the tub, drying you off once you’re out.
“what?” you ask, shocked he’d be asking you to leave so soon.
“your guy is waiting for you down stairs and it’s ten minutes until my booked time is over. i really don’t want to get in trouble.”
he takes you to the bedroom and gives you some of his clothing. he throws a hoodie and sweats on himself before leading you to the door.
he grabs your purse, your coat, and your dress, picking them up to take them to the car.
“oh you don’t have to do that,” you say as you strap your heels up.
“nah it’s alright.” he says, sliding into some shoes and opening up the door.
“i usually never spend this much time with girls, i’m sorry.” his cheeks flush red. “i would’ve made it longer if i’d known.” you get to the elevator.
“oh that’s ok. i don’t usually do the sex thing.” now it’s your turn to blush.
“i’ll tell the company about everything, i’ll make sure you get what you deserve.” the elevator opens up to the ground floor.
the car was right outside the hotel lobby, lando had let your driver know that you’d be coming down stairs.
he rushes to open the door for you, letting you get inside. he goes around to the other side to put down all your stuff.
he closes the door and comes around to your side again.
“would you come again? for just me or for both of us?” lando asks you as you put your seatbelt on.
“maybe.” you give him a wink. he smiles back at you, closing the door.
he returns to the hotel, heading back to his room. he was certainly pleased with that purchase.
“that was weird.” the driver looks at you through the mirror.
“hmm?” you’re mind still foggy from the interaction.
“i’ve never seen him come down to the car before.” his eyes return to the road.
your cheeks flush red yet again.
“and he never uses the full time. and you’re wearing his clothes.” the driver continues.
“oh,” you say, looking out the window.
“strange.” is all he says.
he takes you back to your apartment, you get out, grabbing your things.
“thanks.” you say before shutting the door.
you open the door to your room and just drop your coat on the floor.
you head right to bed, falling asleep almost instantly.
“would you come again?” is the last thought on your mind before you drift off. who would say no?
