Unmasked

Unmasked

9/?

<<< previous part

Word count - 3.5k

Both Bahrain and Saudi Arabia were what felt like near perfect starts for the team - only Max outscoring you both in the second race of the season, so going into Australia you felt confident. You were hoping that continuing to perform like this, the team would finally break and talk to you about Thirty, and whilst that conversation was currently benched, you’d managed to get a 2-on-1 meeting with Mattia about you and Charles.

Sure the relationship was still fresh but you wanted to let him know sooner rather than later that their media co-ordinated relationship had turned into something more, that you had very real feelings for your teammate. The Monaco native kissed the back of your hand softly as you waited for the team principal to join you. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“I’m not sure, but they were the ones who put us together… so…” you giggled, leaning over to kiss him.

You heard the door open and close behind you. “Hmm, I had a feeling that was what this is about, your little show had become a bit too convincing.”

Your boss circled the desk and sat in his chair, clasping his hands in front of him as he studied you both - the way Charles’ thumb brushed over the back of your hand, the way you look more relaxed than you had in years.

“Well yeah, it’s kind of not fake anymore.” You chuckled softly. “And well, we’re not planning on breaking up any time soon so we wanted to know how you wanted to proceed.”

He pressed his lips into a line as he thought, eyes flickering between you both. “This is a conversation I’d already planned to have, as I said - your acting was getting too good. For now, we’ve decided to continue to use your relationship as a distraction from you being Thirty until we think of something else. While we know the media has zeroed in on you being a woman, the laundry list of potential candidates is still long and we’d like to keep you as close to the bottom as possible.”

“Speaking of Thirty, I-”

“We’re not having that conversation. Not now. Keep performing and we’ll have that meeting.”

Charles watched as your jaw clenched and you slumped back into your chair - he hated the way they were using your reveal as a carrot on a stick, encouraging you to keep racing. You were a talent without the blackmail, and it was frustrating to both of you; Charles knew he could try and step in and argue your case but Mattia wouldn’t hear a word of it without the rest of Team Thirty to back him up. He simply stood up and placed his hand on the small of your back as you both exited the room. “I’m sorry, mon amour.”

“I know, I know…” You sighed, looking up to face him. “Hey, at least they’re chill about us, right?”

Your teammate smiled softly as you lifted your hand to cup the back of his neck, gently brushing your thumb across his skin. His eyes flickered across your face before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “We best get going, free practice starts soon.”

Once you stepped into the paddock again, you were fully clad in your racewear - bouncing a little on your feet as you tried to warm yourself up ready for the weekend to begin. As much as you didn’t want to let Mattia and the rest of the team hold your reveal over your head depending on your results, getting the job done was still important. You had a championship to win and with Charles currently ahead of you, everything was to play for.

*****

******

To say you were fuming was an understatement. After a piss poor qualifying and car issues putting you in 9th and hard tires relegating you to 14th at the start, you didn’t think it could get any worse. But with only the first lap of the race complete, you fucked it completely and slid across the track, off into the travel at the exit of turn 10.

You didn’t stay for a second longer in the garage than you had to, slamming the door of your driver’s room and screaming into a pillow. It was a stupid mistake, you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself for it - you’d gone too hot into the chicane and ruined your own race. You turned on the TV to catch the rest of the race, too nosey to not know how everyone else was getting on but it only frustrates you further.

The gap between you and Charles in championship only grew with your teammate getting his second win of the season, Max also not finishing the race. The Monegasque had 71 points to your measly 33 and you wanted to be happy for him, you did, but it was bittersweet watching him lift the trophy above his head and you hadn’t even finished the race, let alone got on the podium.

You watched with a straight face as he sprayed Carlos and George down with the champagne, his face a contrast to yours - a smile that would usually brighten your day but it didn’t help at all. Instead you opted to flick off the TV and flop back on your sofa - just letting your eyes closed shut.

However, getting a moment of peace was not to be when your handler and PR manager practically ripped the door off of the seams to come into your room, their faces paled.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” You frowned, sitting up.

“…we’ve got a problem.”

******

*****

This time in Mattia’s office, you were outnumbered. Charles was still down in the garage, celebrating with the team but you were being stared down by the team principal and the two members of Team Thirty who had burst into your room not even moments ago. The public reaction to you not being at the barricade to congratulate Charles was… negative, to say the least. It was the third time you’d not been there for his podium and despite someone posting a photo from your behalf on your instagram story showing you were watching from hospitality, it wasn’t enough.

His die-hard fans were starting to hate you. You weren’t good enough for Charles.

It wasn’t the effect on your mental health that this character assassination that Team Thirty was concerned about, it was the public reaction to you being revealed. All this was doing was making them question everything you’d been working towards.

“I’m not sure how you expect me to be in two places at once.” You grumbled. “Sure, today I could’ve been there but the first two races I was with him on the podium.”

“We know.” Your handler sighed, the last few months had aged him - the once jet black hair he sported now featured more than a few greys and his frown lines had deepened. “So, we’ve always tried to avoid this but, if you both finish on the podium in the next race, we’ll have to bring in a body double.”

You frowned. “…how’s… in what world would that work?”

“At Imola, the cars will be parking on the track at the end of the race - and whilst Charles is talking to the press, we will get you inside, changed and out the front while your double goes on the podium.”

A groan left your lips and you ran a hand over your face. “Why don’t you just let me-“

Your handler agent slammed his hand down on the desk, making you cower back in your chair and the two other men in the room’s eyes widened. “Everything is on the line, y/n, don’t you understand?”

He didn’t give you even a second to protest before he seemingly magicked your contract out of thin air and placed it on the desk in front of you. “We have done nothing but try to protect you, why can’t you see that? This contract was put in place to make sure you had a racing experience without the stigma of being a woman… revealing you now? After all this negativity about you being Charles’ girlfriend?”

The man tutted and leant in closer, and you swallowed heavily - your breath caught in your throat as his dark eyes flickered across your face. “You have no right to fight for a reveal after your piss-poor performance today. Charles is a race winner, you haven’t won us a championship in years… you’re lucky to even have a seat.”

Mattia and your PR manager stayed silent, letting the words hang heavy in the air - you wanted to fight back, give them a piece of your mind but you couldn’t help but think he was right. Instead, you simply excused yourself from the room and went to the last possible place they would think to look for you and thankfully, the person you were hoping to see was standing right outside.

“What do you mean you lost her?” Charles frowned, stood in your driver’s room with your handler who was pacing nervously. He’d come up to check on you after your DNF to make sure you weren’t blaming yourself too hard but instead he was met with a very stressed looking staffer.

“We had a bit of a disagreement and I haven’t seen her since.” The man admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And it would be too suspicious if I put out a MIA memo for some random staffer so we’ve just had people keeping an eye out.”

Your teammate shook his head. “You are unbelievable, mate.”

Before the staffer could get another word out, Charles left the room - he couldn’t even call you, your phone was currently stuffed in his pocket after he saw it left on the side table in your room. He could feel the panic bubbling in his chest as he walked through the paddock, every flash of red catching his eye. Clearly, he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his stress because more than one person tried to stop and ask him if he was okay and as much as he was grateful people seemed to care, you were still at the forefront of his mind. Where the hell were you?

He was moments away from shouting out your name when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder - Charles turned to say he was fine but when he was met with the dark eyes of Carlos he simply frowned. He felt himself deflate, his eyes desperate as he looked at his rival.

“She’s with Max.” He said quietly, and almost immediately Charles could feel his heartbeat ease. “Because the last place people would think to look is with Redbull, no?”

“Did you see her? Is she okay?” His volume matched the Spaniard’s as they walked in the direction of the Redbull Motorhome, noone batting an eye at the two drivers chatting away - nothing out of the ordinary. “How did she even get in wearing her kit?”

Carlos shook his head. “I didn’t see her, Max texted me that they were together so I don’t really know how or why she’s in there but I saw the panicked look on your face and guessed you didn’t know either… definitely won’t be able to sneak you in.”

The Monegasque nodded. “Can you tell her I’m out here… please?”

The Redbull driver gave him a gentle smile and another friendly pat on the shoulder before disappearing inside the navy blue motorhome - leaving Charles feeling very out of place standing outside of somewhere he definitely shouldn’t be. Thankfully, he didn’t have too much time to overthink before you stepped out of the motorhome, still clad in your Ferrari polo. He took your biceps in his hands and studied your features, eyes puffy and nose as red as your team wear- those bastards.

The driver pulled you into his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, shielding you from prying eyes. Max wasn’t too far behind you, a sorry smile on his face. “Thanks for looking out for her.”

“Wouldn’t hesitate.” The Dutchman said. “But, you might want to get her out of her before too many people notice.”

Charles’ nodded and guided you out of the paddock, doing his best to keep you tucked into his side as to avoid too many prying eyes. Unlike other races, he simply waved at fans - allowing you to keep your head ducked down beneath your Ferrari cap as you head to the carpark, still not speaking a word. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, Charles could feel the weight of it dragging you both down. He locked eyes with Sebastian across the parking lot and the older driver gave him a concerned frown as he watched the young Monegasque help you into the car.

He waved his phone a little at Charles and the Ferrari driver nodded before slipping into the driver’s seat. Charles would be sure to ring Sebastian later but right now you were his priority - you sat slumped in the passenger seat, playing with the skin around your fingers. He’d seen you defeated before but there was something else going on here, he could just feel it.

“Y/n…”

“Can we just get out of here?” You finally met his eyes as a single tear rolled down your cheek. “Please.”

He didn’t even hesitate, driving as quickly but as safely as he could back to the hotel - ushering you into your shared room where you didn’t even hesitate to yank your polo over your head and throw it across the room before dropping to your knees and sobbing into your hands. You felt an intense guilt about breaking down like this in front of Charles when he’d such an amazing weekend - you felt like you were taking away from his accomplishments.

But when you felt his knees brush yours and his strong arms wrap around you, you simply melted into his chest - gripping onto him for dear life as you cried. You felt so betrayed by your team, you’d given them years of your life and your handler had just thrown it back in your face like it was nothing.

“Cherie… talk to me.” He whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

You grumbled into his chest. “I-I… your fans hate me. So if… If we get on the podium in the next race they’re swapping me with a body double so I can meet you at the barricade. Like a good girlfriend”

Charles scoffed, pulling back to take your face in his hands, brushing his thumbs across your cheeks to wipe away some of the tears. “That is a whole new level of stupid… why can’t they just bite the bullet and-”

“Because they’re trying to protect me.” Your tone was mocking. “Because I’m not fucking good enough anymore, Charles.”

He went to speak but you shook your head and stood up, grabbing a T-shirt from your suitcase to change. You let out a pained laugh, running your hands over your face before putting the shirt on - hands shaky as you worked on the button of your trousers. “I should be grateful I even have a seat, they said… so, maybe there’s no point revealing me because by the end of the year I’m not going to be here anymore anyway.”

“Hey.” Charles grabbed at your wrist a little - you didn’t look up at him. “Don’t let them get in your head, y/n. You’re a champion… they’d be absolute fools to even think of letting you slip through their fingers.”

Your teammate could tell their words had really impacted you, your quiet thank you wasn’t convincing as you gently pulled your wrist away from his grasp. “You should call Sebastian, he’s worried about you…”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’m here for you, okay? Don’t shut me out.”

“I know, I know… I… this just hurts. I at least thought they had my best interests at heart but…”

You sighed and Charles simply nodded. “I know, Cherie. They’re idiots. We’ll get you out of this soon, I promise.”

This time your thank you seemed genuine as you kissed him, a gentle smile on your face - you were eager to believe him but remained cautious. Simply getting out of the rest of your uniform and slipping into bed, the other driver not far behind. “How did you get into Redbull anyway?”

“Max just took me in, no questions asked… I honestly think he could get away with anything.” You chuckled softly, propping yourself on your elbow to look down at your boyfriend. “He didn’t even hesitate to help me, I almost feel bad we’re going to absolutely destroy him in the championship.

Charles laughed, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “There’s my girl. You do still need to call Sebastian though before he hunts us down.”

“I know, I know. I just have to be careful about what I say to him or else he’ll fly out to Italy early to burn down the headquarters.” Your cheeks flushed a little, reaching over to your nightstand to grab your phone; dialling the German’s number. “Hey Seb.”

“Hey kid, how are you doing?” His voice was gentle, you could almost picture the softening of his eyes. “You looked pretty down.”

“That’s a nice way to put it.” You laughed weakly, eyes flickering across Charles’ face. “I don’t think my reveal is going to happen any time soon…”

There was a shift in his tone of voice. “What? Why? Do you need me to go down there myself and talk to them because I will-”

“I’m not performing well enough, and the public opinion of me is apparently bad because I’m not greeting Charles at the barrier…” You explained, letting the fingers of your free hand trace across the skin of Charles’ jaw. “I’m actually worried that I won’t have a seat at all at the end of this year if I don’t start winning races.”

“Y/n, if Ferrari let you go then other teams would fight to the death for a chance to have you… they’re not idiots. They’re just threatening you so you keep feeling loyalty to them and honestly? I’m starting to doubt they deserve it.” The soft tone of his voice had returned, you could hear him chopping up something in the background. “If you’d let me, I’d like to sit down with you and go through your contract. See if we can find anything, not only as a GPDA rep but as your friend.”

You took a deep breath, your mentor always knew exactly what to say. “Thank you, Seb. I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay, well, I’ll let you get some rest. Say hi to Charles for me… he’s a good kid, I’m glad you found each other.”

Charles watched the corner of your mouth tug up into a fond smile - your eyes sparkled at the German’s words but he couldn’t hear them. “Me too. I’ll see you in Imola. Bye Seb.”

“What did he say that got you smiling like the… what's the expression… the cat that got the milk?” He hummed, making you giggle softly.

“Close, it’s cream not milk.” You said, voice fond. “He’s gonna go through my contract with me, see if there’s anything in there we could use to help me… there… there has to be something, right?”

“I really hope so… We’re gonna figure this out, okay?” His hand came up its home on your jaw, the warmth of his touch soothed you - you pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. “Me, you, Seb… Max and Lewis if it comes to it. You deserve to be celebrated.”

Charles simply let you draw shapes on his face, his chest, his neck as you studied him intently - the sunset slipped through the gap in the curtains illuminating the greens and blues of his eyes like the swirls of a watercolour painting. A beautiful ocean brimming with life and warmth, inviting you to dive in. You weren’t afraid of drowning in them, you felt safe as he looked right back at you, the gentlest smile on his face.

He observed you for a moment longer before leaning in and pressing a meaningful kiss to your lips, one you hoped would cement his words and it did. You felt more in that one kiss than any other you’d shared, any doubts you had about his feelings for you seemingly melted away in that moment. You were falling for this boy, hard.

If there was one good thing to come out of the mess that Ferrari was orchestrating; it was him.

And you were starting to think, maybe, just maybe, he was worth every second of it.

***

*****

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Summary: You had always loved him, would always do, however, did the oldest Bridgerton brother still like you after all that had happened between you? Are there any feelings that come back to the surface, after not seeing each other for years? Was the love truly unrequited?

Unrequited

Part 5

“Hmm..”, you had begun. “I think Daphne is going to marry a Duke someday. I just have a hunch.”, you had continued as you had leaned towards Anthony

“A Duke?”, Anthony had spat out. You had only raised your eyebrows in amusement. “What exactly is wrong about a Duke?”

Anthony had just shaken his head. “Just that every Duke I know is not a respectful man.”, Anthony had stated.

“I think the son of the Duke of Hastings is. He’s going to be one some day. And he’s quite hands-“

Anthony had rammed his elbow into your stomach, trying to silence you and looking at you in annoyance.

“What?”, you had laughed. “I think he’d be an excellent choice for your sister.”, you had grinned.

“Oh! And what about Lord Toussaint! He’s going to be a Duke someday, too. Oh I bet he’d be a nice husband.”, you had added, enjoying the way Anthony’s jaw clenched.

“None of them are going to marry Daphne, I assure you.”, Anthony had answered.

“Oh, come on! I’d marry one of them and Daphne would and we’d both be Duchesses.”

Anthony’s eyes had widened, turning to you with a stern look on his face. “Absolutely not. You are not going to marry Francois.”

You had leaned your head on Anthony’s shoulder, feeling more than safe when you had inhaled his scent. “Well, a Viscount wouldn’t be so bad, would he.”, you had mumbled, before your eyes had closed. You had been tired the whole day and feeling Anthony near you had brought you immediate comfort.

Anthony had needed a second to process what you had just said, and when he had, you had already drifted off into sleep.

And he had sat there, with you sleeping on his shoulders and a stupid love-struck grin plastered onto his face.

“And, did the Duke find a wife yet?”, you asked Francois, focusing on his shiny blonde hair rather than the stage.

You were avoiding it as long as you could, you would only be looking when the opera began, keeping your eyes on Francois as long as you could.

“He did not, unfortunately.”, Francois smiled at you. “I haven’t found the right one yet.”, he added quietly.

“You’re marrying for love?”, you rose your eyebrows, clearly surprised. Many men, such as Dukes, married only to seal an heir, a mere business arrangement.

“Mais, bien sûr! Of course! I’m a hopeless romantic.”, Francois laughed a little, his eyes sparkled when he did.

“I’m happy I met at least one man that believes in it.”, you grinned at him. “Why exactly though?”

Francois did not even take a second to answer. “I think love is the reason for our lives. We love to find love, to experience the feeling of it as it consumes your whole body and mind. We love to feel that pang in our chest, to feel our breath being taken away, to feel our heart beat quicken. I mean why else are we living? I wouldn’t want to have a wife who I don’t love, who doesn’t love me.”

You held your breath as Francois talked, thinking of Anthony the whole time he did. How he took your breath away, how your heart beat when he was near you, how your hands grew sweatier. “You’re very sweet, Francois.”

You could hear as the people grew quieter, the curtain slowly opening. You took a long breath, adverting your eyes from Francois to the scene in front of you.

You admired all the golden details admist the read of the opera, you admired that the Duke had his own box in there, assuming he was visiting the opera quiet often.

And when a beautiful young woman stepped into the stage, having brown curly hair and wearing a white shining dress, your breathing abruptly stopped.

Siena Rosso was beyond gorgeous, her hair shinier than yours, her eyes brighter than yours could ever be, her dress more beautiful than any you owned.

It was not only her appearance, it was the way she moved her hand so elegantly, the way she began singing and made it sound like a sweet poem whispered into your ear.

It seemed like she was everything you weren’t. The thing that hurt the most was not about how she looked, but that she had the thing that you wanted the most.

She had won the heart of Anthony Bridgerton.

When Francois caught on your distraught, he moved his hand over to yours, silently asking you for permission.

You looked down at your hands on your lap, before you nodded. Francois slowly took your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.

It brought you comfort, the way his hand was so warm, the way he slowly stroked it with his thumb. He wanted to help and you gladly accepted it.

“You know what my mother always told me?”, he whispered quietly, not expecting an answer.

“S'ils ne voient pas que l'amour fait partie de leur vie, alors ils ne méritent pas d'en faire l'expérience.”

You looked up at him, the words sounding more poetic than Sienna’s singing. Francois’ voice was so soothing, sounding absolutely beautiful to you.

“And what does it mean?”, you murmured, fascinated by the French language.

“If they don’t see that love is a part of their lives, then they don’t deserve to experience it.”

“It’s beautiful.”, you let out a shaky small laugh. “If he doesn’t see that love is a part of his life, he doesn’t get to experience love with you, ever.”, Francois explained to you, his thumb still stroking your skin.

You nodded at the man. “You’re right, my Lord.” Francois shook his head. “You can just call me Francois.”

“Thank you Francois.”

The two of you left your seats after everyone else, spending more time in catching up on your lives and talking than listening to the singers.

However, you knew that Siena had been a great singer, that her voice was beyond description beautiful.

So, as the two of you slandered along the seats, watching everything in awe, Francois took your hand and led you to the opera singers at the front.

You were lucky everyone had left, Francois taking your hand would be beyond scandalous. Nevertheless, the opera singers did not care.

“Bonsoir, Ladies.”, Francois smiled at them. “It was delighted to see you all, your performance was exceptional.”

You carefully watched as Siena scanned the both of you, looking between you suspiciously. “Your voice is truly a wonder.”, you addressed to her.

Siena turned to you and as much as you wanted to hate her, you couldn’t. It was not her fault in the slightest, she probably did not even know about your existence.

And when she offered you a small smile, you knew that she was just a woman like you, who had fallen in love with the undeniable charm and sweetness of Anthony Bridgerton- or former sweetness that is. ”You are flattering me.”, the brown-haired woman grinned.

You smiled back at her, Francois‘ hand squeezing yours in a sort of comfort. “I’ve never seen you around, are you new hear, my Lady?”

You shook her head. “I was living in the countryside for a few years. I must say, none of the opera singers their are even half as good as you all are.”

Siena grinned at Francois. “I already like her.”, she whispered as your eyes swiftly wandered around the opera, now empty and without the eyes of the ton on you.

“Thank you. And I guess you two-“, Siena brought your attention back, looking at your intertwined hands, then at your face and Francois’.

“Oh, no, we-“, you began, but Francois beat you to talking. “Not yet. I might have to prove my dancing skills to her and Lady Danbury to even be considered as a suitor.”, Francois looked down at you, his eyes shining with adoration.

You bit your lip, your cheeks getting warm as you looked at your feat, trying to hide your blush from both Siena and Francois.

“Well, I only wish you the best. Future Duke and Duchess.”, Siena winked at you, excusing herself in a rather rush as she walked to the changing rooms.

You furrowed your eyebrows, but brushed it off as you nodded at Francois to get going.

You shouldn’t have looked back one last time. You should have just walked out, without sparing the opera one last look.

You should have kept your attention on the man next to you, should have had a evening without any overthinking, without thoughts plaguing your mind the whole night.

However, something inside you had told you to look at it one last time, to let go and understand that Anthony Bridgerton could never be your man.

And when you saw the familiar brown hair, even if only the back, you felt quite literally like someone tried to push a dagger into your chest, trying to reach your heart.

Nonetheless, only when you let your thoughts wander even more, seeing as Anthony moved to the direction of the stage, quite possibly wanting to go behind them, your mind seemed to fully comprehend the situation.

He was walking into the same direction Siena had just rushed to. The dagger in your chest pushed harder until it finally did reach your heart.

Anthony was going to see Siena, their relationship was not an old one like you had hoped the whole time, Siena was still his mistress, his lover, the one who got to know the feeling of his soft lips on her, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on her waist, of her hands in his, she could-

Siena was able to get to know what Anthony’s love felt like, because she was the one receiving it.

When Anthony entered the living room with sweat dripping down his forehead, a frown spread across his face and hair standing everywhere but where it should, Eloise and Benedict quickly hid the newest Lady Whistledown behind their backs, knowing exactly that if Anthony would read it, his state would only worsen.

“What is it?”, Anthony asked, stalking forward. Eloise’s eyes widened as she looked at Benedict, silently asking who should run away with the paper.

Before either of them could even stand up, the paper was snatched away from their hands, Anthony’s eyes scanning it carefully.

Eloise only watched as his jaw clenched, his fists balled. The oldest Bridgerton shook his head, mouth slightly agape as he spared Benedict Bridgerton a look.

Tears were already evident in his eyes, but he would never dear to shed them in front of his siblings.

Benedict shot him an apologetic look, trying to offer him a smile. Anthony just bit his lip and crunched the paper in his palm, throwing it as far away from his as he could, before stalking out the room with heavy steps.

Violet Bridgerton furrowed her eyebrows, picking up the paper and trying to unfold it, before reading what had made Anthony as mad.

And as it appears, dear readers, the Duke of Florence, Lord Toussaint, has finally set his eyes on a beautiful Lady, old childhood friend of his and without doubt the best choice for a new Duchess. Lord Toussaint was seen with her at the opera just yesterday, both of them leaning into each other a little bit too close for friends, whispering things without listening. However, as the author was not in the same box as them, I can only assume that their talking was surely not about the beautiful singing. I can only wish this to be the next love marriage this season.

“Well, I guess we have to invite Lord Toussaint for dinner tomorrow, too.”

@summer-children @starlightofsolaria @lawstudentbydayfangirlbynight @jeyramarie @shinyanchorface @berrnuu @justifymyfeelings @sunnyteume @mightiestheroes @amber-lilly @bigpoppajessie-blog-blog @spideyswebshooters @odilevonbrekker @kazbekkarluvbot @saintmagx @austynparksandpizza @rexit-mo @spwinkles @ifilwtmfc @thecraziestcrayon @unknownmissgurl @fangirling-galore @coltonthekanima @icebabe2045-blog @magical-spit @itscheybaby @jade10077 @freyathehuntress @okkulta @freyathehuntress @valdensreadinglist @di-essere-amato @heyyitsreign @littleboysmile @ourheartsofsteel @queensgirl718 @rayisthehoe @valdensreadinglist

So the reader and Carlos Sainz Jr. has been best friends and eventually lovers in a secret relationship. (Secret cuz privacy, duh) All was well when Carlos was in f2 but now in f1…Carlos is being crazily shipped by fans with another who’s not reader and it is getting into reader’s mind. Carlos is oblivious?? or naive?? or straight up like “it’s the fans babez ignore them.” Meanwhile, every time the reader and Carlos hang out(which is actually a date), the fans always revert back to “aww they are such cute bestFRIENDS” plz angst angst draw it OUT. I want the gut-wrenching, chest clutching ANGST babez. <3 (+Your creativity shall flourish~~)

Lissie note… I LOVE this prompt. It leaves as much angst as possible up to interpretation. This is really like letting the genie out of the bottle. Great idea!

Few things to note:

Reader is a PR assistant manager

Reader is only a year younger than Carlos

Reader is being delusional for the most part

“Amanda Higgins” is made up by me

Present time is not the 2023 season

This both does and doesn’t follow a specific timeline, so the races are not going to be in order.

This might get re-written or updated, as I was feeling under the weather whilst writing it!

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x PR!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, oblivious and kind of insensitive Carlos, delusional reader

Word Count: 5.2k+

Am I Yours?

“I just wanna be yours…”

Back story

2012-2013

You were a sucker for Motorsports. Growing up with a father who was an engineer for Red Bull, you frequently joined him whenever school would allow it. Although the window of opportunity was small, you always begged your father to bring you along.

From expensive hotels to business class; you were living any 17-year-old’s dream. A life of constant travel. Your father had agreed to let you transfer to do online schooling, rather than going to an actual high school. You only had a year left anyway. With that new lifestyle, nothing held you back from coming to every race weekend.

You aspired to become a journalist and a news reporter. Specifically a sports reporter for Formula One. All you ever did was study. You ensured only the best of the best. Your grades never changed and your GPA never budged from a 4.8. So when you finally decided to get more into the Formula world, you decided you’d start in FIA European Formula 3. You wanted more experience before moving on to reporting on Formula One. Although you were still in high school, any experience was good enough for you. Your father somehow made the necessary connections to let you observe the European F3 races.

My god, did you love it. One driver, in particular, had caught your eye. One Carlos Sainz Jr. His style and his methodical approach to driving were more than just captivating. He was merely a year older than you and had already achieved such great things in life. It was incredible.

Meeting him was even better than just observing him swerve around the tracks. He was kind, helped you with your questions, and was able to calm your nerves.

In the beginning, your friendship with him was fairly simple. He texted you every now and then, and you’d come to all his races. The two of you were both on busy schedules, and it was hard to make things work. However, things were subject to change when you started feeling things. Things that you’d never felt before. Racing heart, shortness of breath— it wasn’t the feeling of being starstruck. No, you were completely, utterly, and foolishly in love with the Spaniard.

During mock interviews he’d help you with, your throat would begin to tighten up and you’d more often than not go for several bathroom breaks. All to calm your heart, so that it wouldn’t beat out of your chest. The way his voice wrapped around every little word he spoke. It was velvety and smooth. Much like his driving. You’d be damned if you didn’t confront him.

So confronting him was exactly what you did. One weekend after the race, you’d asked to speak in private. He’d been generous enough to skip his plans to talk to you. Upon revealing your feelings to him, he was surprised, to say the least. Ecstatic was the following emotion that washed away the wide eyes on his chiselled face.

He only popped the question after you’d graduated from high school. To be more exact, he had offered to drive you to the campus of your college. The car ride consisted of slow tunes and his sweet humming. You never expected to hear him ask you to be his. He explained how he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t ask, but there was no explanation needed. You were just as into him, as he was into you.

Was that going to last forever, though?

2015-2017

It had 3 years since you first entered college. Your hard work had been paying off, especially seeing as you were offered an internship at Red Bull Racing. They wanted you in their PR department. Although it wasn’t exactly your forté, you figured it was the deal of a lifetime. You’d get to see your father more often, and you’d see him more often as well.

Carlos was fresh meat in Formula 1 and had been signed with Toro Rosso for the season. He was racing alongside Max Verstappen. A young Dutchman, who broke the record for the youngest driver to compete in the history of Formula One. It was quite impressive, really.

Due to your boyfriend’s position, you were able to see him every now and then. Your boss would make exceptions and would even let you manage him for some time. Given, he did not know your connection to Sainz. Carlos wanted to keep it secret, which you agreed was for the best. With so many fans and people watching all over the world— there was no telling what a dating rumour would stir.

However, despite your best efforts— dating rumours and shipping eventually made their way through the Formula One fandom. It wasn’t exactly what you expected though. It was much worse than that.

“Oh my god, he’s totally blushing at her,” you read aloud. Carlos was sitting in front of you in your shared hotel room. He was at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“Oh wait, here’s another one: Carlos and Amanda are so cute together. I’m here for it.” Your heart was so heavy and your head was swimming in a clouded rage. You weren’t sure if it’d be morally wrong to keep going.

“Corazón—“

“Don’t you ‘Corazón’ me, Carlos,” you spat and scrolled further down the comment section. It was a post that he’d posted of him and the presenter for Formula One. You weren’t usually the jealous and unreasonable type, but it eventually got to you. The way his arm was slung around her waist whilst he smiled at her and looked into her eyes… it was too much for you. The comments only egged on that feeling of despair.

“You know they’re just fans, right? It’s nothing, cariño.” He wasn’t seeing what you were seeing. He couldn’t see how the presenter relished in his touch. Anyone in the comments could see it, so why couldn’t he? You were spiralling. Was he putting up an act on purpose?

“I don’t know…” you sighed and put your phone away. The Spaniard took this as his opportunity to get up and cup your cheeks with his warm hands. The same hands he had on her.

“How about we go out tonight? I’m tired of room service. We can go anywhere you’d like.” You hated the look on his face. It was nothing but pity, but there was little to no energy left in you. Though you wanted to, you were too tired to say no or get too heated.

“Fine…”

It turned out to only add to your anxiety.

As the two of you were seated, waiting for your food to arrive, a fan came over with a giddy spirit. You didn’t mind at all, actually, it was nice to see how much people adored him. All you wanted was to support him in his endeavours. He’d do the same for you, right?

“I’m such a big fan, could you please sign this?” She seemed innocent enough, just wanting an autograph. Harmless. Or so you thought.

“Why isn’t Amanda with you?” Your heart dropped. All week, you’d tried to stay positive. You’d tried to stay calm and rational, but any sense of control was starting to slip. The grip you had on your sense of reality was starting to wither. As long as Carlos defended you, everything would be fine. Your worries would be dampened.

“Ah, no. She’s probably busy.” It didn’t quite sink in until the fan left, satisfied with an answer. You contemplated getting up and leaving, or staying and acting as if everything was okay. Your own boyfriend teased dating rumours with someone else. You couldn’t believe it. Was this really how you were going to live your life?

Present

It had been a year since Carlos and the presenter had started to stir dating rumours. That’s not to say it got better from there. It only worsened. You’d graduated from college, and was a full-time employee and PR assistant manager. You were mostly in charge of Carlos, though you didn’t want to be. Sure, the two of you had been dating for a long time, but the fact that fans had branded you as ‘the other woman’ made you want to drown yourself in a Pinot.

Carlos was still refusing to go public with your relationship. Though you agreed in the beginning, you certainly didn’t anymore. You wanted the truth to be out in the open. All you wanted was for the fans to leave Amanda behind. It almost felt as if your own boyfriend couldn’t care less about you or your feelings. God did it just hurt.

You were walking beside Carlos on the pit lane, taking statements here and there like any other weekend. Except, a man in his early 20s came up with a microphone in Carlos’ face, asking him about the dating rumours between him and the presenter. Although he never admitted to anything, he never denied anything either.

“I think fans like a love story. That’s all, no?” His silly little smile and chuckle would usually lighten any mood, but your heart broke with every little sound escaping from his lips.

Jealousy was a foul beast, but you couldn’t help fostering it deep within you. It tugged at your heart, trying to claw its way into your aorta. You’d really done everything you could to support him, but the relationship felt so empty.

“What kind of response was that?” You whisper-yelled, as the two of you walked into the Toro Rosso motorhome. He closed the door behind him and took a seat in one of the leather chairs displayed in front of a flatscreen.

“What do you mean? You’re the one who keeps telling me to keep all private details of my life private.” He got you there. It felt like you were arguing with a wall. He just couldn’t see what you were seeing. He couldn’t hear the rumours you’d heard. He couldn’t feel the ache that was forming in your gut.

“Carlos… I’m your girlfriend.” That was all you said. His face was that of a puzzled one. You’d stayed quiet for too long about everything. You wanted him to understand. To know what he was doing to you.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, cariño.” His cluelessness was like gasoline to the fire you were beginning to light.

You could care less about being petty. You pulled out your phone and started reading several articles and headlines out loud for him. You wanted every bit of your reality to seep into the pores of his skin. You wanted him to feel guilty.

“Who is the other woman Carlos Sainz is cosying up with? Amanda Higgins has yet to make a statement.” Carlos didn’t even have the guts to look at you. He was dead silent.

“I mean, do you see this insanity? Why are you supporting this, when all I’ve ever done is stand by your side?!” Though emotions were running high, every little nerve in your body told you not to cry.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, princesa, I have not done anything wrong!” His defence was weaker than a three-year-old trying to spoon-feed itself.

“Carlos, can’t you fucking see what you’re doing to me? I’m ‘the other woman’ in the public’s eyes! I have spent nights crying myself to sleep. I keep thinking, maybe one day you might actually leave me… for her.” You leaned against the counter behind you. Carlos stayed seated, watching as your face contorted with anger. You were desperately holding back those salty drops of sadness.

“You know that I love you, isn’t that enough?”

“—but do I really? Right now, I don’t even know if you’re lying. I don’t know if you’re just telling me this because it’ll make me feel better. Even so, it’s not enough. It just isn’t.” A sigh left your lips, and you looked at your hands fiddling with your phone for comfort.

“You’re being unreasonable now. Of course, I love you—”

“But love isn’t enough, Carlos! I need your support. I need you to shut down the rumours! I need you to tell me all of these things. I don’t want to be yours, I need to be yours.” It was a sob party now. Your eyes stung from the mascara you’d put on earlier that morning. Carlos had yet to show much emotion other than distress. Reasonable, but not enough.

“Why shouldn’t I just give the fans what they want? You keep reminding me to keep them at bay, right?” Once again, he’d somehow found a way to completely skip over your feelings.

“Because it’s hurting me! Day and night I dread the next headline! ‘Carlos and his PR assistant are such great friends!’, “Red Bull PR assistant; an insight into Carlos Sainz’ best friend’, I mean, when will it stop?!” Yelling wasn’t productive, but neither was avoiding the subject. If Carlos refused to care, why did you still hold on so tightly? Why couldn’t you let go like him?

“Cariño…”

“No, Carlos. No pet names. I’m done. We’re done. Call me when you have the heart to do something about all of this. Otherwise, don’t contact me. I’m asking to get assigned to Max.” The heartbreak in his eyes was nothing compared to what you were feeling. Your eyes only met him for a moment, but you could already tell that he couldn’t get his words out. It caused a scoff to leave your mouth before you left the motorhome.

It took some time and much convincing to be put in charge of Max. Much to your pleasure, he was rather easy to deal with. He knew all the right things to say and knew when to deviate from uncomfortable subjects. You knew from your years of experience in journaling, that the media would sink its petty little claws into anything. Max was surprisingly skilled in staying out of the big bird’s clutches.

Carlos followed your orders. Almost too well. A week had gone by, and he had yet to shoot you a message or asked you to meet up. Max tried to sympathize with you, but there was only so much a teenager could do. Besides, he had his father to deal with. Burdening the poor soul with your troubles was the last thing you wanted.

Travelling had become boring. It used to be you and Carlos exploring the cities you were in for the race. Now it was merely you sipping expensive Cabernet. It was self-torture. You would often scroll through the sea of headlines and comments about the media’s “IT ship”, and it was starting to drown you slowly.

You were being eaten by a dark matter of doubt, guilt, and self-hatred. Maybe, you thought, maybe you were the problem? Maybe you’d pushed it too far? Was it really your place to lash out over petty rumours?

The more time passed, the more insane and irrational you were becoming. Max was reasonably worried about you, as you’d started to look pale and the bags under your eyes were heavier than his carry-on. The team noted that they were willing to give you paid leave, as they noticed your declining physical state.

You were there, but you weren’t. You lived in the world of Amanda and Carlos. Everything was upside down. Your boyfriend had the presenter clinging onto his arm, your Carlos had Amanda Higgins on his lap, and your life was wrapped around a woman. A woman that wasn’t you. No, you were the other woman. The one who let jealousy eat away at her spindly little feet. The ones that’d been carrying her delusions of a relationship with the Spaniard.

Everywhere you walked, they were there too. Wrapped around each other in pure bliss with fans cheering them on. All the whilst you had to watch from the sidelines. You were just the average PR assistant manager. You weren’t famous like she was. The media was eating the perfect love story up like piranhas exposed to fresh blood.

You wanted to tell someone about your situation, but you knew that it wouldn’t be received well. No matter who you were to tell it to. That was the real torture of it all. Carlos was in a position where he could deny ever making any unprofessional contact with you. Was he that kind of person? Did you even know who he was?

He was another woman’s man… was he not?

Eventually, a couple of months passed without so much as a text. You’d worked yourself tirelessly and to the brink of insanity— if you hadn’t gone over the bend yet, that is. Carlos hadn’t even looked in your direction.

Except that wasn’t true.

Carlos’ reality of the situation was far different from yours. He couldn’t see the problem with his fans and the fandom surrounding Formula One. He’d seen it happen to many other drivers, so he couldn’t understand why you’d be so opposed to it. He truly believed his unconditional love for you was enough. Except it apparently wasn’t.

His chest felt heavy every time you spoke of Amanda. The lady had practically forced herself to be thrust into the hands of the media with him. She was relentless. The Spaniard had no choice but to oblige so that he wouldn’t be subject to a smear campaign.

Yes, he’d been listening to you. All of your lessons. All of your endless boring talks of how to handle the public. He listened to every little detail that left those pouty, pretty lips of yours. In fact, he relished listening to the soft tone of your voice. He loved when it went up an octave if you praised him for his efforts. One might even argue you were the one who kept him going. Your validation meant the world to him.

He only wanted to reciprocate all the hard work you’d done for him. The post of the presenter and him was merely a feeble attempt at writing your name in the sun, except the shade came all too soon.

So when you confronted him about the media, he couldn’t understand why you were so riled up about it. In his eyes, he’d become a loving heartthrob. Essentially, the goal of PR. You weren’t supposed to bring hell on earth, you were supposed to tell him how great he was doing.

The way you questioned his love and devotion to you stung like a stake in the heart of a vampire. He could feel his throat closing up. He couldn’t get the right words out. Any defence he had was like acid burning the sides of his throat, forever stuck there.

He despised Amanda, but he knew what would happen if he started acting aloof and indifferent. He’d be ruined. His image— tarnished for the whole world to see.

When you told him not to contact you, he couldn’t help but feel a growing pit in his stomach. He felt as if the fame had gotten to his head. Had it? Was he really that hungry for the love of his fans rather than his beloved girlfriend? Was he really chasing adoration from fans rather than from his girlfriend?

Carlos was too ashamed— too guilt-ridden to say anything to you. On the days he promised himself to step up, you weren’t in sight. On the days you walked around in all your glory, his had sunken to the bottom of the sea of self-hatred he harboured for himself.

Admittedly, your impatience was starting to show. Carlos would notice the small glances you’d shoot him. It gave him hope, but he was too afraid. He was afraid of hurting you. Though he desperately wanted to salvage whatever the public had desiccated from your romance, he couldn’t find it in him to simply walk up to you.

What made matters worse, was that Amanda didn’t seem to back off either. She continued egging the reporters on. She teased the fantastical relationship between her and the Toro Rosso driver. There was no remorse to be seen on her face. No, she was deep in denial. If that was what it was. She certainly didn’t accept the fact that Carlos was potentially spoken for.

Your reality was like a grey-scale filter. Everything was dark and gloomy. It was hard to see the point of working in the same vicinity as your boyfriend. You’d let your delusions spin so far out— you almost didn’t believe Carlos ever was yours. He was never your friend. You expected too much. You were a nobody, and he was a star.

“You should really talk to Carlos. Not just stand there and yell, but actually talk to him,” you told yourself in the mirror. It was harder to convince yourself to do so than to convince yourself that he’d never even met you.

“Did I walk in on something I shouldn’t have?” Your heart dropped. There was a slight buzz in your ear, as you computed what was going on. You recognized that accent all too well. That smooth, velvety voice. The one that you’d fallen for all those years ago. Oh, and when you turned around. You saw those docile eyes. The eyes you had no problem falling asleep to. The eyes that always reassured your safety.

“Carlos.” The motorhome was empty besides you and him. The weather was horrendous, but the soft pattering of the rain made the ambience comfortable. Carlos came closer. You were sitting in one of the leather chairs. Everything about the situation was giving you major deja vu.

“I had a lot of time to think about what I would—“ You didn’t want to hear his sob story. There was one thing you wanted to know. One thing you needed to hear him say.

“Am I yours?” You gave him a chance to answer this time. You needed to hear him say it. You wanted him to say the words. He never got to say it though. The door to the motorhome burst open, and you saw Max looking at you with a frantic expression.

“Max? Are you alright? You don’t look too well.” Carlos watched as you rushed to his teammate’s side. An external force tugged at his heart, seeing you be so worried about the Dutch driver.

“I just don’t have a ride home. My father stranded me here. You have a car, right? Can you drive me, please?” Max seemed really desperate. Seeing as how his father didn’t even have the heart to stay and watch him race, you felt too bad to say no.

“Of course, I’ll drive you, Max. I’ll grab my keys and you can just wait by the grey Golf outside.” He left in a hurry and you grabbed your keys, giving your boyfriend a last glance before heading out. Getting an answer was less important than getting a teenager home. Having grown up with a functional family, you felt a sense of pity whenever you saw Max alone. His father obviously believed in tough love, no matter the consequences to his son’s mental health.

“What is the deal with you and Sainz?” Max asked as the two of you got in. It felt wrong to lay your burdens onto the teen, so you decided to shrug it off as nothing; saying,

“He just had some questions to ask regarding the upcoming appearance on the big scene. You know, just some jitters before tomorrow.” It was a completely plausible and valid lie, which seemed to work.

“Oh, I see… but why couldn’t he have his own coach answer?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Max…” He rolled his eyes and sighed, as he leaned against the window. Lucky for you, your million-dollar idea of turning out the awkward silence with music paid off. Max didn’t seem to mind your taste and would even tap his shoes against the fuzzy floor of the car at times.

After Max thanked you for the ride and went inside his designated hotel, you drove straight to the hotel you were staying at. It wasn’t anything fancy like you used to stay at with Carlos. After putting a damper on your relationship, you decided to stay as far away from him as possible. It was very plausibly your own delusions feeding you the idea, but there were no take-backs.

You stepped into a cold shower, washing away all of your distress from earlier. With every cold drop, you felt pieces of your rationality come back to you. You knew there’d have to be a talk after the next sunrise, but thinking about it made your body ache. It clenched your nerves together tightly.

You got into your silk nightgown, finished your night routine, and threw yourself on the queen-sized bed. It was no king-sized bed like it was with your love, but it sufficed. The pillows were nothing against his warm embrace. The bed felt empty. It felt like the cold clutches of nothingness were holding you impossibly close. It felt as if your head barely peaked above a massive flood. Your throat felt stuffy. Your eyes were pricked with tears. Though you’d promised yourself on multiple occasions that you wouldn’t cry, the thought of Carlos missing by your side cued the waterworks.

Going through your phone and scrolling through the many pictures that fans had taken of your boyfriend with the presenter… It only made things worse. Anything the shower had done for you was quickly reverted back to the way it was before. It hit you like a wild hurricane, sweeping away anything in its way.

Eventually, you ended up crying yourself to sleep. The following morning made you realize that fact, as your eyes were swollen and red. You knew you only had so much time to get ready and get to the big stage. You weren’t going to get up there, luckily, but you still had to debrief Max.

Your makeup job covered most of your swelling, but it was noticeable up close. You didn’t have much time to think about it though, and you had to leave to not be late.

Upon arriving, you saw Max talking to Carlos. Something you hadn’t really seen before. Sure, they spoke to each other on rare occasions, but they were usually kind of stand-off-ish about each other. You swiftly pulled the Dutchman aside to do a quick rundown of appropriate behaviour and vibe on the stage. He seemed somewhat aloof but present. You ignored it and hoped that he’d just make your job easier by doing as he was told.

Amanda was on the stage, looking over the flock of fans. Many of them were holding up signs shipping her and Sainz together. Every sign you saw was like a splinter to puncture your lungs. It stung badly. The ditzy presenter announced Carlos and Max to the stage, and you saw them wave happily to the roaring crowd.

“The stage is yours,” Amanda said and handed a microphone to Max and one for the Spaniard as well.

“Actually, the stage is his.” Max pointed at his teammate with his microphone. You were utterly confused. What was Max thinking? You were starting to second-guess your own abilities to debrief someone at that age.

“Thank you, Max, um…” he hesitated. The crowd went silent to hear him talk, as he looked to be quite nervous.

“I have something important to say before the race, and I think this is one of those times you can’t let the opportunity slip.” There was a strange feeling growing inside your chest. A thousand butterflies had taken up residency within the comfort of your rib cage.

“Firstly, I have to make one thing clear. I know many people think otherwise, but Amanda and I are not and have never been in a romantic relationship. Our relationship is purely platonic.” You heard disappointed sighs from the crowd, but some gasped with delight. Of course, there were always some fans who loved it when drivers weren’t taken, but what Carlos said next… was more than just shocking,

“In fact, I have been hopelessly in love with who I consider my first and last love for years now. She knows who she is, and I would actually like for her to step onto the stage, please.” Your heart dropped. Your stomach dropped. Your ears started ringing. The guts Carlos had to reveal that in front of thousands— if not millions of people… you couldn’t believe it.

You slowly waltzed up the stairs to the stage and felt your heart pump blood out as if it was sped up mechanically. Max gave you a curt but sweet smile, as you walked up next to his teammate.

“Hi…” you mumbled. He pulled you close to him by your waist and showed you off like a championship trophy. In some reality, that was what you were in his eyes. His very own trophy.

There was some irony to the situation. You were a PR assistant manager, yet you couldn’t handle the stage. You saw the many peering eyes and the judgemental looks of jealous teenage girls.

“This is my beautiful girlfriend. We’ve been together since my days in European Formula 3.” The crowd had mixed emotions, but many managed an “aww”. You simply let Carlos do all the talking because you were frozen. Everything felt so unreal.

“Mi reina,” his voice was shaky as he turned to face you,

“Yesterday you asked me something I’ve been wanting to give you an answer to for as long as I can remember. I know that we’ve gone through so much lately, and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you. My angel, my princess, you are the love of my life. You are the reason I stand here so proud today. You asked me, ‘Am I yours?’ To this, I say, you tell me.” Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull as you saw your boyfriend ease down on one knee. From his back pocket, he pulled out a gorgeous diamond ring. The crying you’d done during your break was a puddle compared to the waterfall that spilt from your eyes.

Everyone was dead silent and waiting eagerly for your answer.

“I am. I am yours,” you choked out through your tears. The crowd went wild, people were cheering and throwing whatever merchandise they had on them on the stage. The Spaniard pulled you in for a sweet and long-lasting kiss. All the delusions, all the doubts, all the distrust— it melted away with the embrace of who you’d be spending the rest of your life with. You couldn’t wait for the future. Pulling away from the kids, you saw that same hopeful look in your lover's eyes, that you fell in love with all those years ago. His smile was so genuine. Everything about him was genuine. You took a moment to admire the rock on your ring finger. It suited you perfectly. All that was left was the wedding and the rest of your lives.

You were his and he was yours.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

Hey! Can you write something like the reader loves Nick, but it's one sided cause he loves Noah but they'd never work out in the future.

Ending can be Happy or Sad.

Love your work btw ❤️

It's always been you. - N. L.

hi nonnie, I am very glad that you like my work, thank u so much for reading it and I also hope you enjoy this. <3

Pairing: Nick Leister x Reader.

TW: Angst but fluff at the end.

Summary: Nick and you were best friends, but you fell in love with him, he felt in love with Noah, or that's what you thought.

Words count:

You and Nick met early in high school and have been inseparable ever since. From what you saw him go through all of his relationships, including the one he had with his stepsister, Noah.

You realized you had a crush on him at high school graduation but decided to keep it to yourself so you wouldn't ruin anything.

And when you were about to tell him how in love you were with him he decided to start a kind of strange relationship with his seventeen year old stepsister.

For several nights and days you wondered what he had seen in her that you didn't have. The whole time you compared yourself to her, making you feel bad.

The last straw was the pool party that Noah's boyfriend had attended. You were sitting at a table that was outside in the garden while Jenna and Lion dried the boy who apparently was called Dan. Jenna noticed you were in a bad moment and moved closer to you.

"What is it, queen?" she questioned sitting next to you and looked towards the direction in which you were looking. "I see."

"I'm leaving." You got up feeling completely ignored by your best friend and took your things.

"Wait..." Jenna exclaimed trying to stop you but Lion stopped her.

"Calm down, she'll be fine."

On your way to the main entrance you ran into Noah's mother, you offered her a gentle smile since she had never received you badly or anything like that, she smiled back with some doubt about your sudden departure.

And finally you left.

On the other hand, with Noah and Nick, they were still kissing between the inflatables for water when Rafaella called the black-haired man.

"Nicholas!" Nick held up his hand to get her attention and let her know he was still there. She broke away from Noah and swam toward the shore where Rafaella was.

"What's happening?" he asked with a smile on his face from the interaction with Noah from a few seconds ago.

"y/n left." She crossed her arms looking at him and the smile faded from Nick's face.

"What?" He quickly got out of the pool.

"What you heard, she's gone."

"Why? Hasn't she told you anything?" And he ran towards the entrance of the house without waiting for the woman's answer.

When he left, he saw how your car was leaving the house, he rushed to go to his cell phone and call you being received by voicemail.

"Fuck!" He cursed under his breath as he entered the house. Noah, seeing his condition, walked towards him.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" she asked worriedly and he denied without looking at her.

"Nothing, forget it."

"Okay, do you want to go to your room or to the pool?" Noah questioned placing his hands on his cheeks, and he nodded. "Okay, let's go."

"Precious, what's wrong, hmm?" Jenna asked seeing you just move the food around on your plate. You had both agreed to go out to eat after what happened at Nick's house.

"I'm in love with him, Jen." you sighed, letting your fork rest on the plate to look at her.

"Ay mi chiquita." He looked at you understandingly and you sighed resting your chin in the palm of your hand.

"I don't even know why I fell in love with him knowing how he is and the arrival of Noah in his life didn't help much." You took a sip of your peach juice and she took your free hand.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Maybe one day if I'm not a coward." You wrinkled your nose at the thought of even ruining what you had.

"You are not a coward." she denied with a gentle smile. "You only fell in love with your best friend."

"Ugh, that sounds worse." you joked and you both laughed finishing eating.

You both returned to Nick's house where Lion was still there. When Jenna saw him, she approached him to greet him with a kiss and Nick approached you.

"Hey." you greeted barely arranging your bag on your shoulder.

"Why you left?" he asked looking at you intently, you sighed and looked at the guys, giving Jen a significant look, which she understood instantly. You were going to confess your feelings for him.

"Okay, we're leaving, bye Nick, bye y/n."

"Bye..." you muttered looking how they left.

"I wasn't going to take another second of watching the guy I've loved half my life making out with another girl he just met." you admitted, leaving him speechless, he opened and closed his mouth to speak but didn't know what to say. Never in his life would he have imagined that you would feel something for him.

"I..." Once again, he didn't know what to say.

"Don't worry, leave it like that, I knew this would happen." You started walking towards your car. But his voice stopped you.

"I've always loved you." it took you a few seconds but you finally turned around to look at him in disbelief.

"Really?" You stayed still in your place and he came closer to you.

"Yeah, I realized that things weren't going to work out with Noah, because she wasn't you." He put his hand on your cheek and you still looked at him without believing it.

"Seriously?" He laughed nodding leaning little by little towards you. "But you..."

"Shut up." He sentenced and then kissed you slowly.

Finally you separated and he looked into your eyes with intensity.

"It's always been you."

Make your requests.

I want to start writing imagines and fan fics for F1 drivers and have got many ideas, but I just don't find the motivation to write/type everything down...

What can make me overcome this?

PS - I'm a Gasly Girl ❤️