Summary: He races across continents for trophies, but he’d cross galaxies for you. They call him a simp. He calls it love.
Requested: anonymous
The paddock had noticed the pattern before Carlos ever admitted it out loud.
"Madrid again?" Charles raised an eyebrow as Carlos confirmed his travel plans after the Singapore Grand Prix. "That's what, three weekends in a row?"
Carlos didn't even try to hide his smile this time. "She has a performance on Tuesday. I'm not missing it."
"Mate, you saw her perform last month," Lando pointed out.
"That was Giselle. This is Swan Lake. Completely different." Carlos said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Charles and Lando exchanged looks.
"You're insane," Lando said.
"I'm in love," Carlos corrected, already pulling up his phone to text you that he'd landed.
The First Meeting
Carlos's friends loved to remind him how he'd completely fallen apart when you first met.
It had been at a charity gala in Madrid eight months ago. You'd performed a solo from Don Quixote, and Carlos—who'd been dragged there by his PR team—had genuinely forgotten how to breathe.
He'd watched you command that stage, all power and grace and impossible elegance, and something in his chest had just... shifted. Settled. Like his whole life had been leading to watching you dance.
When intermission hit, he'd practically stumbled over his own feet getting to you.
"Hi, I'm Carlos, I—you were incredible. I mean, you are incredible. That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Do you—can I buy you a drink? Or food? Do ballerinas eat? That's a stupid question, of course you eat, I just meant—"
You'd laughed, and he'd fallen even harder.
"I eat," you'd confirmed, eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'd love to get a drink."
He'd missed the entire rest of the gala talking to you. Best night of his life.
Home
Carlos dropped his bags by the door—literally just dropped them—and followed the sound of music to your home studio.
There you were, at the barre in your rehearsal clothes, working through exercises. He leaned against the doorframe, content to just watch. He could watch you for hours. Had, actually, multiple times.
You caught his reflection in the mirror, and your whole face lit up.
"Carlos!"
He caught you as you ran to him, lifting you clean off your feet and spinning you around. "Hola, mi amor. Dios, I missed you."
"You saw me four days ago," you laughed, but you were holding him just as tightly.
"Four days too long." He set you down just enough to kiss you properly, cupping your face like you were something precious. Which you were. The most precious thing in his world.
"I'm all sweaty," you protested weakly.
"I don't care. You're perfect." He kissed you again. "How was rehearsal?"
"Exhausting. The new choreography for Act II is brutal."
"Show me?"
You pulled back to look at him. "Carlos, you just got off a fifteen-hour flight."
"And I want to watch you dance. Please?" He gave you his best pleading look—the one you always said was unfair.
You rolled your eyes fondly. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love with you, sí." He was completely shameless about it. "Please, cariño? I've been watching race replays for three weeks. I need something beautiful to look at."
"Smooth talker."
"Is it working?"
You kissed his cheek. "It's always working. Go sit."
Carlos settled on the floor, back against the mirror, the biggest smile on his face as you moved to the center of the room. This—coming home to this, to you—was worth every single hour of travel.
The Paddock Teasing
The group chat was absolutely ruthless.
Lando: Guys I just walked past Carlos's driver's room
Lando: He's REWATCHING her performance from last week
Lando: He's literally already seen it live AND watched it twice
Charles: That's actually kind of sweet
Lando: That's INSANE is what it is
Carlos: It's a different recording. Better angle of the fouettés.
Pierre: …
Pierre: You know what fouettés are
Carlos: Obviously? She does 32 of them in a row. It's incredible.
Lando: SIMP
Carlos: The biggest one. Now shut up, this is the best part
What Carlos didn't mention was that he'd already booked flights to see your next three performances, even though one of them was the same day as a sponsor event. The sponsors could wait. You were more important.
Race Weekend - The Interview
"Carlos, great qualifying today. P2 on the grid—you must be pleased?"
"Very pleased, yes. The car felt good, we made some great improvements—"
"Your girlfriend is here this weekend, correct? We spotted her in the garage earlier."
Carlos's entire demeanor changed. He literally brightened. "Yes! She's here. First time she's been able to come this season—her schedule is even more intense than mine, which is saying something."
"She's a principal dancer, right?"
"Principal dancer at Teatro Real," Carlos corrected, with the kind of pride usually reserved for championship wins. "One of the best in the world. She just finished a run of Giselle that had standing ovations every single night."
"You attended those performances?"
"Every single one I could. Flew back to Madrid between Austin and Mexico City just to see the closing night." He said this like it was completely normal and not an absolutely insane travel schedule.
The reporter blinked. "That's... quite the commute for a show."
Carlos looked genuinely confused by the question. "Have you seen her dance? I'd fly twice that distance. She's extraordinary."
The clip went viral immediately.
[motorsport_clips: Carlos Sainz casually admitting he flew 10,000+ miles to watch his gf's ballet performance I'm SOBBING]
Garage Visit
"So you're the prima ballerina."
You turned to find Lando Norris grinning at you like he'd been waiting for this moment.
"I am," you confirmed, shaking his offered hand.
"Thank god you're real. We were starting to think Carlos had made you up."
"I'm very real."
"Good, because he's been insufferable." But Lando was smiling. "It's nice, actually. Never seen him this happy."
Before you could respond, Carlos appeared, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. "Are you bothering her?"
"I'm being delightful," Lando protested.
"He is," you confirmed, laughing at Carlos's protective stance.
"Hmm." Carlos didn't look convinced, but he relaxed slightly. Then he looked down at you. "Are you comfortable? Do you need anything? Water? Food? I can get you a chair, you shouldn't be standing so much before your performance tomorrow—"
"Carlos." You put a hand on his chest. "I'm fine. I promise."
"You're sure?"
"Completely sure."
Lando made a gagging sound. "This is what I deal with. Constantly."
Post-Race
Carlos finished P3, and the first thing he did—before even going to weigh-in, before the podium, before anything—was find you.
You were waiting with the team, and his face when he saw you made every camera in the vicinity immediately focus on him. He didn't care. He pulled off his helmet, yanked off his balaclava, and made a beeline straight for you.
"Hey, podium finish—" you started, but he was already kissing you, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other at your waist, like you were the prize he'd been racing for.
"Carlos," you laughed against his lips. "You have a podium to get to."
"Don't care. Missed you."
"You saw me an hour ago."
"An hour too long."
Someone from the team was calling his name. He ignored them, kissing you again.
"Carlos Sainz!" It was his engineer now, sounding exasperated but fond. "Weigh-in! Now!"
Carlos pulled back with the deepest sigh. "Fine. But I'm coming right back."
"I'll be here."
"Promise?"
You laughed. "Promise."
He kissed you one more time for good measure, then jogged off to weigh-in, looking back at you twice.
The Flex (Carlos Has No Chill)
Carlos's Instagram that evening was a masterclass in simping.
First post: You in the garage, candid, laughing at something off-camera, the sunset lighting making you glow.
Caption: "Still can't believe she chose to spend her only day off this month watching me drive in circles. Luckiest man alive. 🩰✨"
Second post: A video of you demonstrating a pirouette in the paddock (Lando had dared you), your control and grace making it look effortless.
Caption: "My girlfriend is cooler than yours. Actually, my girlfriend is cooler than me too. 😍"
Third post: You and him at the team dinner, his arm around you, him looking at you like you hung the moon while you laughed at something Charles said.
Caption: "When she smiles like this >>> any podium"
The comments went absolutely feral.
[User1: This man is DOWN HORRENDOUS] [User2: Carlos said I'm gonna SIMP and I'm gonna do it PUBLICLY] [User3: The way he looks at her should be studied by scientists] [F1Gossip: Carlos Sainz continues to set the standard for supportive boyfriends everywhere]
Lando commented: "Mate, you need HELP."
Carlos replied: "I need nothing. I have her."
Quiet Moments
Late that night, back in your Madrid apartment, you were on the bathroom counter in your pajamas, Carlos kneeling on the floor in front of you, carefully icing your feet.
He'd learned the proper technique from your physical therapist, asked a million questions, and taken notes. Your foot care routine was something he took as seriously as his own training regimen.
"You know you don't have to do this every time," you said softly.
Carlos looked up at you like you'd just suggested he stop racing. "Of course I do. You take care of your body so you can dance. This helps. So I'm helping."
"Most boyfriends don't—"
"Most boyfriends aren't dating you." He pressed a gentle kiss to your ankle. "Most boyfriends don't get to watch their girlfriend do the impossible every single day. I'm not most boyfriends."
Your heart melted. "No, you're really not."
He smiled, moving to your other foot. "Your Odette tomorrow is going to be perfect. You're always perfect."
"I'm nervous about the Act II variation."
"The one with all the balances on pointe?"
You blinked. "You know the variations?"
"Cariño, I've watched Swan Lake six times this month alone, preparing for your performance." He said this like it was obvious. "Of course, I know the variations. You'll be brilliant. You're always brilliant."
"What if I'm not?"
Carlos stood, moving between your knees, tilting your chin up to look at him. "Then you'll still be the most incredible dancer I've ever seen. But you will be brilliant. I know you."
You pulled him down for a soft kiss. "I love you."
"I love you more."
"Impossible."
"Want to bet?" His eyes were sparkling now. "Because I flew 10,000 miles between races just to see you dance. I have your entire performance schedule memorized. I literally learned ballet terminology to better understand your work. I think I'm winning."
You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Okay, you might be winning."
"Definitely winning." He kissed you again. "Now, you need to sleep. Big performance tomorrow. Which I will be front row for."
"You bought front row tickets?"
"I bought front row tickets for all eight performances of this run."
"Carlos!"
"What? I want the best view of my girlfriend being extraordinary." He lifted you off the counter, carrying you toward the bedroom. "Now sleep. Doctor's orders."
"You're not a doctor."
"I'm your doctor. Now sleep."
You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. "Okay, okay."
The Performance
Carlos was indeed front row, in a suit, because he knew you loved it when he dressed up for your performances, holding the biggest bouquet of roses the florist had.
The woman next to him leaned over. "Are you Carlos Sainz?"
"Sí," he confirmed, not taking his eyes off the stage where you were about to appear.
"My daughter loves Formula 1. Could I get a photo after?"
"After the performance, of course." He was already pulling out his phone. "But please, we must be quiet now. She's about to dance."
Then you appeared on stage, and Carlos forgot how to breathe.
He'd seen you perform dozens of times now. It never got old. Every performance felt like the first time—that same awe, that same wonder that someone so talented had chosen him.
During your variation, he didn't blink once. Didn't want to miss a single moment.
When you finished, during the standing ovation, Carlos was the first on his feet, applauding so hard his hands hurt, the proudest smile on his face.
After the Show
You found him at the stage door, still holding those roses, looking at you like you'd just won an Olympic gold medal.
"Cariño," he breathed, pulling you into his arms. "You were... I have no words. You were transcendent."
"Yeah?" You were still high on adrenaline, your cheeks flushed.
"The most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed." He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. "I'm so proud of you I could burst."
"You're biased."
"I'm correct." He handed you the roses. "These don't do you justice, but they're your favorites, so."
You buried your face in the blooms, then looked up at him. "Take me home?"
"Anything you want. Always."
As you walked to the car, Carlos's arm around your shoulders, him still gushing about specific moments from your performance, you couldn't help but smile.
Most people thought the grand gestures were the romance—the flights across the world, the front-row tickets, the public declarations.
But you knew the truth. The real romance was in how he learned your world because he loved you. How he took care of your feet after rehearsals. How he'd memorized your entire season schedule. How he looked at you like you were magic, every single day.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
warnings: fluff • time skips • carlos finally getting what’s coming to him • creative liberty with the current f1 season • fake filming schedule • most likely divorce inaccuracies • translation app • possibly a mistake or two.
vicious speaks: WE ARE SO BACK! thank you so much, my lovelies, for your patience and for sticking with me while i sorted this universe out, and took a little detour with the lightning strikes mini series <3 i know a friend of carlos won the baby daddy poll, but i just couldn't get it to work, and went a different route...hope you guys still like it! this series was unintentionally set in 2024, but as of this chapter, it’s taking place in the present year! sorry for any confusion. also, i kinda…forgot to add in sophie and victoria until now 😅 we’re all just gonna pretend like they’ve been lurking in the background. i really hope this chapter was worth the wait!! ♥️😚
prev chapter | next chapter
series masterlist
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
mid april
liked by danielricciardo and others
tmz IT’S (officially) OVER! Yn and Carlos Sainz are finally divorced, and sources are saying that Yn really won in the end: “Yn got their family home, the vacation house they bought together in Spain, and Carlos has to pay a one-time lump sum of $1,326,161. Additionally, he’s ordered to provide $150,000 monthly in spousal support and the only way it’ll stop is if Yn ever decides to remarry. Carlos was pretty unhappy about the decision, but understands that he did this to himself. Yn, on the other hand, is relieved that this is all over and “very much looking forward to building a life with Max.”
view all comments
fan WAR IS OVER 🙌
fan MOTHER IS FREE
fan oh she won
fan she’s about to be RICH rich omg
fan FREEDOM 🦅
fan he’s put her through absolute hell with liv and i’m so glad he has to pay for it (literally)
fan yn’s laughing all the way to the bank 😭
fan “very much looking forward to building a life with max” MY PARENTS 🥹🫶
fan 🤑🤑🤑 ♥︎ by olliebearman
fan1 okay, now he needs to leave her alone!!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
yn has added to their story
likes and replies
maxverstappen1 liked your story
phoebejtonkin liked your story
fan HELP MEEEEE
fan NOT NICOLE KIDMAN
actuallyrafa liked your story
tmz liked your story
maxverstappen1 😂 never change, baby
⤷ yn 😂
kikagomes this is so fucking funny ♥︎
melissabenoist liked your story
fan this is so real
fan i’m crying real tears
missoneil liked your story
roselyn_sanchez liked your story
carmenmmundt george is fully losing it 😭
⤷ yn lmfao
georgerussell63 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 ♥︎
therealjosephmorgan liked your story
katgraham liked your story
carlossainzupdates you’ve officially won me in the divorce!!!!
pierregasly YN, YOU ICON ♥︎
alyciajasmin liked your story
michaeltrevino liked your story
fan i love when you remember that you’re That Bitch™️
alexandrasaintmleux love you sm for this 😭 ♥︎
danielleroserussell liked your story
alydiaz liked your story
oscarpiastri 💀💀💀 ♥︎
fan LOSING IT
charlesdavis2020 liked your story
greta.onieogou liked your story
fan i hope he sees this, somehow
lilymhe I’M CRYING ♥︎
ebwinter liked your story
mekiacox liked your story
charles_leclerc STOP STOP HE’S ALREADY DEAD
⤷ yn pls 😭
lewishamilton you win.
⤷ yn 🤭
kimi.antonelli liked your story
olliebearman liked your story
heidiberger_ laughed for a full minute 😂 ♥︎
victoriaverstappen YOU ABSOLUTE QUEEN 😭 ♥︎
lilyzneimer how i wish i could repost this story
⤷ yn 😂😂
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by carlossainzupdates and others
yn shoutout to my girls for throwing me the best divorce party this world has ever seen 🤍
comments on this post have been limited
maxverstappen1 added this post to their story
heidiberger_ added this post to their story
lilymhe added this post to their story
carmenmmundt added this post to their story
kikagomes added this post to their story
victoriaverstappen added this post to their story
lilyzneimer added this post to their story
alexandrasaintmleux added this post to their story
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
may
liked by reyesvdec and others
yn soaking up these last few days together 🩵
view all comments
maxverstappen1 💛
⤷ yn 🧡
fan sleeping on the highway tn
alex_albon no invite for alex?
⤷ yn not this time bestie
⤷ alex_albon 😔❤️🩹
ynsmama did you two adopt another dog? 😅
⤷ maxverstappen1 not this time 😂 just dog sitting!
⤷ fan HA! I KNEW THEY ADOPTED WINNIE TOGETHER
⤷ fan adopting a pet together before ever even dating oh they were always meant to be
fan my dream date. cute.
fan ugh love ya'll
sophiekumpen miss you both ❤️ ♥︎ by author and maxverstappen1
kimi.antonelli mom and dad
⤷ yn my son 🫂
⤷ fan this is so cute, stop 🥹
fan good luck on your new show! 🧡 ♥︎ by author
kikagomes 💛🌻🧡🌼 ♥︎ by author
alexandrasaintmleux love you 😚 ♥︎ by author
fan so pretty <3
fan ya’ll are so cute
ynsmama love and miss you two! 🩵 ♥︎ by author and maxverstappen1
lilymhe the sand art 😭🥰 ♥︎ by author
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by victoriaverstappen and others
yn let’s go, girls 💃🏻 #TheWaterfront
view all comments
maxverstappen1 already missing you like crazy but i couldn’t be more proud of you ♥️ go kick ass!
⤷ yn love and miss you so much 😚
⤷ fan i want what they have
redbullracing no one is more excited for this show than me
⤷ maxverstappen1 umm? 🤨
⤷ redbullracing sorry, no one is more excited for this show than me and max
⤷ yn 😂 i love you, admin 😚
fan so, so ready for this!!
fan can’t wait to have you on my screen again 🥹
actuallyrafa let’s get it 🕺🏽♥︎ by author
kikagomes i need to visit!!
⤷ yn YES, PLEASE
fan ahh!! it’s happening!!
fan SO excited for this comeback 🩵
melissabenoist they aren't ready 😝 ♥︎ by author
victoriaverstappen so excited to watch!!! ♥︎ by author
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by melissabenoist and others
humberly when your costar’s boyfriend has individual flower baskets delivered to everyone on set, complete with cards wishing you a great first day 🥹 thanks max! 💐🩷🤍💜💙
view comments
maxverstappen1 you're welcome, hope you guys liked them!
⤷ humberly liked them? we love them!!
yn isn't he just the best? 🥰
⤷ humberly girl, yes!
fan that man really is a sweetheart ♥︎ by author
fan THAT'S SO KIND??? ♥︎ by author
melissabenoist SUCH A GREEN FLAG
⤷ humberly !!!!
actuallyrafa max is the best ♥︎ by author
fan MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU ARE SO LOVELY ♥︎ by author
fan that other guy never did anything like this even once btw
alexandrasaintmleux oh, of course he did 🥹 ♥︎ by author
olliebearman "max is being a sweetheart" fork found in kitchen! ♥︎ by author
⤷ fan ollie why are you everywhere 😭
fan i'm so emotional rn he could've just sent yn flowers but he sent them to everyone 🥺 ♥︎ by author
fan his mom raised him right!! ♥︎ by author
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
texts between you and max
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by ynupdates and others
maxplaining his face when asked about yn, btw 🥰
view all comments
ynupdates HIS SMILE!! OH GOODNESS 🥹 ♥︎ by author
fan that man loves her BAD
fan i love the way he lights up whenever she’s mentioned
fan his face going all soft omg 🥹
fan look at my goat dawg he’s down horrendous
fan i love the way he loves her
fan i’ve never seen him this happy before omg
fan my shaylaaa
fan i adore them!!
fan carlos always looked like he was being held by gunpoint when whenever he was asked about her in interviews. yn really upgraded with this man <3 ♥︎ by author
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
race day - june 1st
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
yn has added to their story
caption: forced my cast mates to watch today's race, so thanks for not embarrassing me in front of them 💋
likes and replies
alexandrasaintmleux liked your story
sophiekumpen liked your story
maxverstappen1 wow, schat 😂
⤷ yn you know i love you 😂 ♥️ ♥︎
reyesvdec 😂😂😂 ♥︎ by author
victoriaverstappen liked your story
anasainzvdec liked your story
fan yn please 😭
fan lmaooo
melissabenoist liked your story
danielricciardo like your story
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by livherrera and others
carlitosalcarazz life’s good 🤎
view all limited comments
carlossainzupdates WHAT THE FUCK
fan “huh, a baby carrier! i wonder if he’s babysittin-LIV HERRERA???”
fan quick question! what the hell?
livherrera 🤎 ♥︎ by author
⤷ fan this can’t be happening
tmz Oh wow
fan well, i guess now we know why she really named the baby carlos 😭
fan ain’t no way…
fan who here had carlos being the father of liv’s baby on their bingo card?!
fan is this a joke? please say it's a joke.
danielricciardo oh boy
fan are you fucking serious
fan this is a nightmare
fan i know that ain't who i think it is
fan carlossainz55
⤷ fan not the tag 😭
olliebearman what the helly
⤷ fan fuck 😭
fan this is hilarious
fan thought i escaped that demon when carlos broke up with her AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE HAS A BABY WITH MY FAVORITE TENNIS PLAYER??!!?!!?!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
texts between you and max
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
kikagomes has added to their story
caption: snuck away to visit my loveee ❤️
likes and replies
maxverstappen1 liked kikagomes’ story
lilyzneimer liked kikagomes’ story
yn love u 😘 ♥︎
alexandrasaintmleux wish i was there ☹️
⤷ kikagomes missing you so much ❤️🩹 ♥︎
carmenmmundt liked kikagomes’ story
pierregasly liked kikagomes’ story
fan OMG YN HIIII
fan 😍😍😍😍
heidiberger_ liked kikagomes’ story
lilymhe liked kikagomes’ story
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
texts between you and alex
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
yn has added to their close friends story
caption: i'm coming for ya, austria!!
likes and replies
lilyzneimer liked your story
actuallyrafa liked your story
victoriaverstappen max is going to lose his mind!!
⤷ yn that's the goal 😌
⤷ victoriaverstappen1 film his reaction and send it to me 😂 ♥︎
lilyzneimer can't wait to see you 💗
⤷ yn ditto!! it's been too long 🥲 ♥︎
heidiberger_ liked your story
alexandrasaintmleux liked your story
lilymhe counting down the hours!! ♥︎
carmenmmundt can't wait for max's reaction 🤭
⤷ yn same 🤭 ♥︎
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by blancasainzvazques and others
yn that was fun! let's do it again, soon? 🧡
view all comments
maxverstappen1 the best surprise 💙 ♥︎ by author
redbullracing so good to have you in the garage! come back any time ☺️ ♥︎ by author
fan our girl is fully healed 🥹
fan omg welcome back, queen!!
lilymhe you are never allowed to leave again!! ♥︎ by author
georgerussell63 so good to see you again! don't stay away for too long. ♥︎ by author
fan you were very, very missed <3
fan loved the glimpses we got of you in the garage!
lewishamilton fun catching up with you ❤️ don't be a stranger! ♥︎ by author
heidiberger_ wish i could've been there with you 🥲 we gotta plan a girls trip!!
⤷ lilymhe I'M IN
⤷ alexandrasaintmleux SAME
⤷ carmenmmundt ME TOO
⤷ kikagomes COUNT ME IN
⤷ lilyzneimer ME TOO
⤷ yn oh, it's happening as soon as i'm done filming!!!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
august
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
humberly has added to their story
caption: pov: sitting across your ex’s wife at dinner
likes and replies
maxverstappen1 liked humberly's story
melissabenoist liked humberly's story
yn not awkward at all… ♥︎
actuallyrafa the DRAMA ♥︎
kevwilliamson liked humberly’s story
holtmccallany liked humberly’s story
fan need this show badly
fan ❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
victoriaverstappen liked humberly's story
kikagomes liked humberly's story
ariellekebbel oh, i know that dinner was TENSE ♥︎
lilymhe 😍 ♥︎
anasainzvdec liked humberly's story
ynsmama liked humberly's story
fan cannot wait to binge this series
fan you AND yn? sign me up ♥︎
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
texts between you and max
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by ynupdates and others
verstappennews Max has revealed his summer break plans in a post-race interview! "Yeah, you know, just head home for a few days, catch up with family. Then i'm flying out to spend the rest of the break with my girlfriend. Really looking forward to it!"
view all comments
fan of course he's spending it with her!!
fan hearing him refer to yn as his girlfriend never gets old 🥰
fan i know he misses yn like crazy
fan wait this means he's gonna meet yn's cast mates 🥹
fan omg we're gonna get vacation max content, AND boyfriend max content? i'm ready!!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
actuallyrafa has added to their story
caption: these cuties finally reunited 🫶🏼 yn
likes and replies
maxverstappen1 liked actuallyrafa's story
kikagomes liked actuallyrafa's story
yn HELP we didn't even notice you take this
⤷ actuallyrafa trust me, i know 😂
melissabenoist hasn't even been a day and max has already won us over 😭 ♥︎
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!💙
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
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.
Summary: Yn, the new driver for a Ferrari, has a ritual before every race. Before the Monaco GP, she finally gets asked about it.
The 2026 season had already earned a reputation for being something special. After Lewis retired at the end of 2025, the world wondered who could ever fill the seat at Ferrari beside Charles. No one expected an eighteen-year-old girl with a sunshine smile, soft voice, and a heart big enough to hold the whole grid.
But Yn did.
And from the first test day in Bahrain, everyone fell in love with her.
She was polite to a fault, the kind of person who thanked mechanics for tightening wheel nuts and apologized to cameras she accidentally bumped into. She brought homemade cookies to the Ferrari garage during pre-season. She called the crew her “big red family.” Charlie practically treated her like a little sister from week one.
But what made fans love her even more was the ritual.
Every single race, right after the national anthem, she would return to her Ferrari, kneel in front of it, place one hand gently on the nose, hold her necklace with the other, bow her head, and whisper something no one could hear. The Ferrari crew always stepped away, forming a loose half-circle around her, guarding the moment like sacred ground.
And somehow, no one ever asked.
Until Monaco.
The press conference room buzzed in that familiar way Monaco always brought—glamour mixed with chaos. Yn sat between Max and George, with Carlos and Fernando on the far side. She looked tiny next to all of them, legs crossed, fingers anxiously playing with the chain of her necklace.
Max leaned over and whispered, “You okay?”
She smiled softly. “A little nervous.”
“Don’t be,” George said reassuringly. “It’s just Monaco. Everyone’s nervous.”
Fernando smirked. “Speak for yourselves, chicos. I am never nervous.”
Carlos elbowed him. “Liar.”
The room laughed, tension easing just as the moderator handed the floor to the first journalist.
Questions came and went—car setups, track evolution, strategy predictions. Yn answered sweetly, always careful, always grateful, always smiling like she didn’t quite believe she deserved to be there.
Then someone raised a hand at the front.
A journalist with a calm voice asked, “Yn, this question is for you. There’s something fans have been curious about. Before every race, you do a ritual. You kneel in front of your car, touch the nose, hold your necklace, and whisper something. Could you share what that means to you?”
The room went very still.
Yn froze. Her eyes widened, and her fingers gripped the necklace slightly. George turned his head toward her. Max’s brows lifted. Carlos and Fernando both leaned in just a bit.
She swallowed.
“Oh… um… that.” She let out a shy breathy laugh, cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t know people noticed it that much.”
“Everyone noticed,” Max said under his breath with a teasing smile.
Yn nudged his arm. “Max…”
“Go on,” George whispered. “Only if you want to.”
Yn nodded, looking down at her hands for a moment before lifting her head.
“It’s… not really anything dramatic,” she said softly. “It’s just… something I’ve done since karting. When I kneel like that, I pray.”
Max blinked. “You pray?”
“Yes.” Yn took another breath. “I pray to… Niki Lauda.”
The room gasped gently.
Fernando’s brows raised in visible surprise. Carlos’ expression softened noticeably.
Yn continued in her quiet voice. “I ask him to watch over all of us. All the drivers. I ask him to keep everyone safe and make sure no one gets hurt.” She fidgeted with the necklace, eyes glimmering. “And sometimes I ask him… if he has a little extra time… to help me get a podium.”
George’s smile melted into something pure and warm. Max leaned back, shaking his head with a soft laugh.
“That’s unbelievably sweet,” Carlos murmured.
Yn shrank. “It’s silly, I know—”
“It’s not silly,” Fernando cut in, surprisingly gentle. “Chica, that’s… that’s beautiful.”
She blushed again, staring down at her hands. “I also… um… I also pray to Senna sometimes.”
Max tilted his head. “Sometimes?”
“When it rains,” she whispered. “I ask him to help Niki watch over everyone. Just extra… extra protection.”
A collective soft “aww” swept the room.
Max couldn’t help it. “You’re actually the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”
Yn hid her face in her hands. “Stop.”
George laughed. “No, he’s right.”
Carlos nodded. “You always do your ritual with so much heart. Now we know why.”
Fernando said, “And now we will all think of it every race. Especially when it rains.”
Yn peeked at them shyly. “No one is allowed to make fun of me.”
Max put a hand dramatically over his chest. “I would never. This is sacred.”
George added, “If anyone makes fun of you, they have to deal with me.”
Carlos chimed in, “And me.”
Fernando snorted. “And me. I am scarier.”
Yn giggled softly, and the room collectively melted at the sound.
The next question turned to someone else, but the moment lingered like a warm glow. Even after the press conference ended, the drivers stayed around her.
As they walked out, Max bumped her shoulder lightly. “You know, if you ever need a podium, you can ask me too.”
“Max…” She laughed. “That’s not how it works.”
“Worth a try.”
George nudged her gently. “You okay? You got quiet.”
“I just…” She shrugged, holding her necklace again. “I didn’t think anyone would ask. It felt… private.”
“They asked because they care,” Carlos said. “And you answered honestly. That’s brave.”
Fernando smirked. “And adorable.”
Yn groaned, covering her face again. “Please stop calling me adorable.”
“You kneeled in front of your car and asked legends to watch over everyone,” Max said. “You’re adorable.”
“Max!”
Carlos raised a finger. “But you’re also a Ferrari driver. A fast one. Never forget that.”
Her cheeks flushed again. “I won’t.”
Race day arrived, and after the anthem, Yn walked back to her Ferrari. Cameras watched from a respectful distance. Fans fell silent. The Ferrari crew stepped back.
She knelt.
One hand reached out to brush the nose of the red car. The other curled around her necklace.
She whispered, barely audible even to herself.
“Watch over us. Keep everyone safe. Please.”
Then, after a heartbeat:
“And… if you can… maybe help me get a podium today. Just if you have time.”
When she stood, she found Max a few meters away, helmet already on. He tapped his chest twice, then pointed at her.
She blinked.
He pointed at the sky.
She realized what he meant.
They’re listening today.
She smiled beneath her balaclava and returned the gesture.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz absolutely hate each other. carlos thinks she’s immature, yn calls him a little bitch on social media. they also kiss every now and then. PART TWO
word count: over 10k + social media posts
folkie radio: guys this fic is my baby okay 🥲🥲 please take care of it i spent like two weeks writing it. FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED !!
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
2023 SEASON
TWITTER
INSTAGRAM
liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 87,635 others
ynpiastri that’s my optimistic little brother cry about it 😚 see y’all after the break
view all 1,207 comments
username1 LAJSIA SO MESSY
username2 yn really said you will NAWT mess with my little brother
lilyzneimer Love you forever 😂
↳ ynpiastri ilysm
username3 the sainz - piastri drama just spiced this season up
mclaren That’s our boy 🧡
username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri fighting on the internet and oscar is just 🧍
username5 the fact that daniel ricciardo and pierre gasly liked yn’s tweet too 😭
landonorris Stop fighting people on the internet please
↳username1 HELP HIS BESTIES ARE FIGHTING
↳ ynpiastri never 😤
oscarpiastri When nobody got me I know my messy sister got me
↳ username2 I LOVE THEM SM
↳ yourinstagram HE SAID NO PICKLES !!
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
"You didn't have to tweet that," Oscar said, giving you a look from his seat.
You were currently traveling from Belgium to Monaco in McLaren's private jet after the race weekend, and the main topic of the day was your little message to Carlos Sainz after his statement about your brother.
"Osc, he's being a petty bitch," you shrugged, "He keeps blaming you for what happened on the track and we all know it was his fault."
"Lando, can you help me out please?" Oscar looked at his teammate, who was immersed on his phone as a way to avoid the conversation.
"Oh no, don't put me in the middle of this," Lando shook his head, "I have enough PR issues myself."
"We know you're siding with your bestie anyways," you said, making him roll his eyes.
This dynamic was nothing new. Lando and Carlos Sainz were best friends, and so were Lando and you. The issue? You couldn't stand Carlos at all, and Lando was always in the middle of your bickering.
Oscar sighed, rubbing his temples as he glanced out of the window. "Look, I appreciate you standing up for me, but sometimes it's better to let things slide. Engaging with him on social media only adds fuel to the fire."
He had a point. Deep down you knew it, however, your were short tempered and protective towards your loved ones, so it was natural that you took the chance to come for Sainz's neck when he gave you a reason to.
"I get it, Osc. I just can't stand seeing him drag your name through the mud when you're not even at fault," you stressed, "You're my little brother, I'll always get protective, you know?"
"I know, and I appreciate you having my back," Oscar said, softening his tone. "But it's not worth it. Like you said, I'm not engaging with whatever he's saying so there's no point of starting stuff."
"He started it, I'm just finishing it," you shrugged, and Oscar gave you a pointed look, you were older than him, but he was definitely more mature than you. "Fine, I'll try to hold back next time," you sighed, leaning back in your seat.
Lando finally looked up from his phone, a smirk on his face. "See, that wasn't too hard, was it? Now, can we all be friends?"
"If that includes Sainz then no, we can't,"
You could never be friends with Carlos Sainz. That was literally impossible.
For starters, you were pretty sure he didn't even know your name, he was always too full of himself to even acknowledge those around him.
And lastly, he was a bitch to your brother on and off track.
"I just, I would really like for you two to get along," Lando said and you immediately rolled your eyes at his words, "You're both important to me, and it sucks being caught in the middle. Plus I don't even understand why do you dislike him so much."
You knew the real reason why you disliked him so much, you perfectly did. However, that was a subject that you decided to ignore every single time.
"Honestly? I find him arrogant. He always acts like he's the center of the universe. He never takes responsibility for his actions and always tries to shift the blame onto others. It's frustrating to watch."
Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, but you have to understand, Carlos is actually a good guy once you get to know him. He's passionate and competitive, sure, but he's also loyal and a great friend."
"I get that he's like your hero or something," you teased, "But it's not going to happen, Lando. I don't think I'll ever like Carlos, and I really wish you’d stop pushing the subject."
"Look, you don't have to be his best friend or something," Oscar intervened, "Just promise me you won't punch him when you see him in the paddock after the summer break."
"No promises."
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
INSTAGRAM
liked by lilymhe, landonorris and 105,726 others
ynpiastri a weekend in monaco with some of my favorite people 🤍 back to race cars soooon (love being a nepo sister)
francisca.cgomes having major fomo rn, love you all babies 🥲
↳ ynpiastri get over hereeeee
username3 she has the dream life
charles_leclerc Stop stealing my girlfriend from me thank you
↳ ynpiastri never
↳ alexandrasaintmleux We’re like this 👩❤️💋👩
↳ charles_leclerc Don’t do this to me
lilyzneimer 🤍
oscarpiastri I think you just invented the term “nepo sister”
↳ ynpiastri and i’m too iconic for that
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
Going to Jimmy'z the last day of the summer break was a tradition among the drivers at this point.
You looked forward to it, for you, nothing could beat a night of loud music, drinks and friends. You thought that was the reason you got along with Lando and quickly became best friends.
“Ready to tear up the dance floor?” Lando shouted over the music, giving you smirk
“Always!” you replied, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the center of the action, Oscar and Lily being their introvert selves decided to stay at the table with some of your friends.
After a few songs, you returned to the table to catch your breath and order another round of drinks.
Oscar looked up from his conversation with Lily and smiled as you approached.
“Having fun?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” you replied, taking a seat next to him. “You two should join us on the dance floor.”
Lily laughed softly. “Maybe later. Right now, we’re enjoying people-watching.”
“Suit yourselves,” you said, shrugging, "I'm going to the bar, does anyone want anything?"
Oscar shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm good."
"I'll have another gin and tonic," Lily said, giving you a warm smile.
"Got it," you replied, turning towards the bar.
As you made your way through the crowded club, you found an open spot at the bar and flagged down the bartender. As you waited for your drinks, you felt someone step up beside you. Glancing to your left, you saw the last person you wanted to run into tonight... or ever.
Carlos Sainz was standing there with what you called his "resting bitch face" and acting like he owned the place.
You knew chances of him being at Jimmy'z for the last day of the summer break were high and you had decided earlier that you were just going to ignore him for the night if you ever ran into him. After all, you were there to have fun, not to get into a confrontation. But you were known for being short-tempered, a stark contrast to your brother's laid-back demeanor.
When you heard Carlos order his drink without so much as a “please,” you couldn't help but call him out.
"Whiskey, neat," he ordered, his tone clipped and lacking any form of politeness, his Spanish accent that you found absolutely irritating coming through.
“A 'please' would be nice, you know,” you interjected.
Carlos turned to you, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” you replied coolly. “It's not hard to be polite.”
"Do I know you?" Carlos stared at you for a moment before recognition dawned. “Oh you're Piastri's sister, aren't you?”
“That I am,” you confirmed, your tone equally cold.
“Figures," Carlos scoffed, shaking his head, "You’re the one who sent me that lovely message on Twitter.”
“You deserved every word,” you replied, crossing your arms.
“Did I now?” Carlos leaned closer, his expression hardening. “You don't even know the whole story. You just assume I'm the bad guy because of Oscar."
“I know enough,” you shot back. “I know you never take responsibility for your actions. You always blame someone else.”
“And what about you?," Carlos’s jaw tightened, "Hiding behind your keyboard, throwing insults. That's real mature.”
“Someone had to say it,” you replied, refusing to back down. “You can't just go around acting like you're untouchable.”
“And you can't go around thinking you're some kind of vigilante,” Carlos retorted. “Can't your little brother handle things himself?.”
“Maybe if you weren't such a jerk, people wouldn't have to call you out,” you snapped, feeling your temper flare.
Carlos sighed, clearly frustrated. “Look, I don't have time for this. Just stay out of my way, alright?”
“Gladly,” you replied, turning away from him.
When you rejoined your friends, they noticed your tense expression. Lando shot you a questioning look, but you just shook your head.
"Ask you bestie," you simply said and Lando threw his head back in frustration, once again, he was in the middle of his two best friends tension.
“I’ll talk to him," Lando said, sipping on his drink.
"Don't bother, he's a bitch."
Later that night, Lando found Carlos near the dancefloor chatting with some friends. He pulled him aside, needing to get to the bottom of the latest incident.
“What happened with YN now?” Lando asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
Carlos shrugged before speaking, “I was minding my own business, ordering a drink, and she just came at me."
“And?” Lando raised an eyebrow.
“And she’s just so immature and arrogant,” Carlos continued, “She’s always ready to pick a fight over the smallest things. It’s embarrassing.”
Lando shook his head. “Look, Carlos, YN is protective of Oscar. She sees you two butting heads and she gets defensive. It’s not ideal, but it’s not like she’s completely unreasonable.”
“Well, she sure seems unreasonable to me," Carlos crossed his arms, "I don’t know how you deal with it.”
Lando sighed. “She’s my friend, and so are you. I wish you two could just get along, but I know that’s asking a lot. Just... try to give her a bit of slack, alright? She’s not a bad person.”
"She's insufferable."
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
ynpiastri has added to their stories
carlossainz55 replied to your story
TWITTER
INSTAGRAM
liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 168,373 others
ynpiastri little bitches everywhere, always a pleasure monza
tagged: landonorris, charles_leclerc
view all 2,769 comments
username1 HEEEELP
username2 she’s so messy we needed this 😭
lilyzneimer I can’t wait to hear this rant in person
↳ username1 LET ME INNNNN
username3 IS THIS CARLOS SHADEEEE
username4 not her adding the radio message
landonorris I would like to be excluded from this narrative
↳ ynpiastri scared of your boyfriend??
↳ username2 THEY’RE SO TALKING ABOUT CARLOS 😭
charles_leclerc Did you call me a little bitch?
↳ ynpiastri you’re literally the only ferrari i like..
↳ username3 she really hates carlos i’m screaming
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
The Ferrari hospitality was the last place you wanted to be during a Grand Prix, the mere thought of it being the place where Sainz (or as you liked to call him, the little bitch), was most likely to be kept you away from it.
However, Alex told you to meet her there after the Qualifying so you could leave together for dinner. Oscar and Lando already left with the rest of the team, so you had no choice but to wait for your friend.
"Looking for someone, hermosa?" your eyes immediately rolled without even turning around to see who was speaking, the thick Spanish accent that you despised filling your ears.
"Not for you, that's for sure," you said, not even bothering to face him.
"Are you sure? Because this is not the McLaren garage, did your little bro finally kick you out or something?"
"Sainz," you retorted sharply, finally turning to face him, "Shouldn't you be busy making excuses for your next mediocre performance on track?"
"Ah, always so angry, Piastri," he chuckled, unfazed by your hostility, "Maybe you're just frustrated because you're not getting enough attention. I could help with that."
"I don't need or want anything from you," you shot back, your voice laced with irritation.
Carlos leaned casually against a nearby wall, his smirk widening. "Come on, hermosa, you know you've got a temper. Maybe you just need to let off some steam."
Hermosa, the word he used often when he wanted to get to your skin. When you first heard it, you had no idea of what it meant. You were never good at learning Spanish growing up. But after a quick google translation search you found out that it meant beautiful. And for some reason you felt like throwing up.
"Believe me, Sainz, you're the last person I'd ever turn to," you replied icily, folding your arms across your chest, "And don't call me that."
He chuckled again, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. You wondered how Lando could be friends with him when he was nothing but an arrogant little bitch, and you cursed Alexandra for taking so long to get her stuff from hospitality.
"I hope you know that you have some serious issues, Sainz," you said, your patience wearing thin as his cocky stare weighted on you.
"Issues? Me?," Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your anger, "I think you're the one with the problem, querida. Like I said, maybe you need to get laid. I could help you with that, your brother won't find out."
Your eyes narrowed, your blood boiled to the point where you could feel your skin burning up. If it wasn't for the all the people around, you swore you could've punched him.
You took a step closer to him, your voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I hope your car sets itself on fire so you're not able to race tomorrow."
Carlos's smirk only widened, he was well aware that he got into your skin and he enjoyed every minute of it. Before he could respond, Alex finally appeared, her eyes flicking between the two of you with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Ready to go?" she asked, sensing the tension.
"More than ready," you replied, shooting Carlos one last glare before turning to leave with Alex.
The next day, news spread quickly through the paddock that Carlos' car had suffered a mechanical failure during the warm-up, rendering him unable to compete in the Qatar Grand Prix. Meanwhile, Oscar had won the Sprint and finished P2 in the race.
Karma got that little bitch, you thought to yourself
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
INSTAGTAM
liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 181,544 others
ynpiastri season over and out. super proud of you, rookie of the year @/oscarpiastri 🥹
view all 2,884 comments
username1 i’m going to miss this season sm
username2 proud sisssss
mclaren One for the books 🧡
username3 thank you for fighting sainz online all season long bestie
landonorris Little Oscar is all grown up now
↳ ynpiastri don’t say that i’ll cry
lilyzneimer 🫶🫶🫶
username4 highlight of the season was the piastri - sainz beef
↳ username1 not for lando 😭
oscarpiastri Thank you for always supporting me (creating drama online and all) Love you so much ❤️
↳ ynpiastri that’s what big sisters are for
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
The end of the 2023 season was a blur of celebrations, laughter, and champagne showers. Oscar had closed off the season as the Rookie of the Year and you couldn't be more proud of him, you were grateful you got to be by his side through it.
And of course, with the end of the season a celebration at Jimmy'z was in order, all drivers, their girlfriends and friends pulling up to Monaco for one last night of partying before the winter break.
You had stuck close to Lando and Oscar for most of the evening, since it was a special occasion, you decided not to hold back with your drinking and have as much fun as you wanted, Lando being your partner in crime as always.
So by 2 a.m, you were pretty drunk, not to the point where you couldn't stand on your own feet, but drunk enough to make a couple of bad decisions.
With that thought on your mind, you decided that it was time to find your brother or best friend and call it a night. But for some reason, both of them were nowhere to be found.
Stumbling through the crowded dance floor, you made your way toward the back of the club, hoping to spot them. The alleyway was dark and you couldn't see a single thing, but they weren't definitely back there.
"Fancy seeing you here, hermosa," a voice behind drawled, almost making you jump.
"What the actual fuck!" you said, holding a hand to your chest.
Of course it was fucking Carlos Sainz, once again
"You scared the hell out of me!" you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, "Do you hide in dark alleyways like a creep all the time?"
"Slow down, hermosa, why are you so angry all the time?" his Spanish accent was thicker than usual, a clear sign that he was as tipsy as you were.
"I'm not in the mood for your games tonight," you retorted, trying to brush past him.
"Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble," he said, blocking your path with an easy grace. "Though you do seem to find me wherever you go."
"Only because you insist on being everywhere I am," you shot back, folding your arms over your chest.
"Or maybe you just can't resist my charm," he teased, leaning casually against the wall.
"Charm? Is that what you call it?" you scoffed, "More like arrogance and an inflated ego."
"Arrogance? No. Confidence? Absolutely," he replied with a smirk, "And I think you secretly like it."
"You're delusional," you muttered, feeling the alcohol clouding your judgment. "I can't stand you."
"Is that so?" he said, stepping closer. "Because you seem pretty invested in this conversation for someone who supposedly hates me."
True
"Maybe because you won't let me leave," you said, your voice rising in frustration.
"Or maybe because you've spent the entire season trying to get my attention by being rude to me and blasting me on social media, calling me a little bitch and all."
"I was defending Oscar," you snapped. "You kept messing with him on track. Someone had to call you out."
Carlos shook his head, his cocky smirk even bigger now. "It was never about Oscar, and you know it."
"God, I hate you," you said, ready to walk away but he blocked your way one more time.
"No, you don't," he replied, a knowing smile on his lips. "You just hate that you can't help but get all hot and bothered whenever I'm around."
"You're really are such a little bitch," you spat, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt a strange thrill.
"And you're a firecracker, Piastri. That's what makes this so fun."
"You're so full of yourself," you retorted, but the words lacked their usual bite. The alcohol was making it hard to keep up your defenses, and Carlos's close proximity was doing strange things to your resolve.
"Maybe," he conceded, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But I think you like it more than you let on."
Before you could argue back, Carlos took another step closer, his body almost pressing against yours. The tension between you crackled like electricity, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself unable to pull away.
"You're infuriating," you muttered, your heart pounding in your chest.
"And you," he said, his breath warm against your ear, "are insufferable."
Without another word, he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a fierce, almost desperate kiss. It was a collision of anger, frustration, and undeniable chemistry, and you couldn't help but respond in kind.
Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands roamed down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
What the hell was happening?
For a moment, all the animosity, all the bickering, melted away. It was messy, it was intense, and it was everything you hadn't realized you wanted.
When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you could see the same mix of surprise and desire reflected in Carlos' eyes.
Before either of you could say anything, you were interrupted by Lando's voice calling out your name. You quickly stepped back, putting some distance between you and Carlos as Lando approached, a curious look on his face.
"Everything okay here?" Lando asked, glancing between the two of you.
"Just fine," you replied, giving Carlos a final, challenging look. "Just fine."
Carlos nodded, his smirk returning. "See you around, Piastri."
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
texts between lando and yn
texts between carlos and lando
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
2024 SEASON
Formula 1 was back and in full swing. And with that your "nepo sister" privileges, which included traveling with Oscar for races came back too.
You were excited for this season, Oscar was no longer a rookie and he had a lot to prove, and you couldn't wait to see him rise to the challenge.
In addition to that, this season was going to be extra interesting, since the news of your least favorite driver on the grid (or at least the one you swore you hated) being replaced by Lewis Hamilton in Ferrari were announced a few weeks prior.
"Did you hear the news?" Oscar asked, making his way to you.
"What news?" you replied, setting down your coffee cup.
"Lewis Hamilton is moving to Ferrari next season," Oscar said, watching your reaction closely.
Your eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? So the little bitch is out?"
Oscar nodded. "Yeah, it's going to be an interesting season."
Carlos Sainz was both a source of irritation and inexplicable attraction. You had tried to push the memory of that kiss at Jimmy'z to the back of your mind all winter long, but you just couldn't stop thinking about it.
Plus, Lando was firm on his mission of making wither of you confess that apparently you "liked each other", which made ignoring the whole situation even harder.
You just hoped that he would keep it chill this season, not bothering either you or Oscar so you could just pretend he didn't exist.
With that thought on your mind, you made your way back to the hotel. You spent the day exploring around Bahrain with Oscar and Lando, and now you were ready to unwind in your room. The boys deciding to spend a few more hours walking around before heading back.
Once in the lobby, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a familiar hand slipped in, forcing them open.
Carlos Sainz stepped inside, his ever-present smirk firmly in place.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say.
"Not going to say hello, querida?" he said after a few seconds of complete silence from you, leaning against the elevator wall.
"Carlos. Still popping up where you're least wanted, I see," you rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest.
"Missed you too, Piastri," he chuckled, pushing off the wall to stand closer you, "How was your break?"
"Great, thanks for asking," you replied coolly. "Did you enjoy yours, planning how to be a pain to other drivers this season too?"
"Is that really how you want to start our first conversation of the season?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, "I though we've left that in the past, specially after what happened at the end of last year."
You tensed at his statement. More than once during the break, you wondered if he remembered what happened that night. He was as drunk was you were, if not more, so you convinced yourself that he had forgotten about it.
"I don't remember much from that night. Must have been the champagne."
Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. "Oh, I think you remember perfectly well. Especially the kiss."
Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your expression neutral. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Playing dumb doesn't suit you," he said with a chuckle. "But fine, we'll pretend it never happened. For now."
"Good," you replied sharply. "Because I have no intention of discussing it."
"Maybe you're playing dumb because you want me to kiss you again," Carlos teased, making you throw your head back in frustration.
"I'd rather choke on my own spit, little bitch,"
"Ahh, missed hearing that," Carlos said, his tone cocky and satisfied with your frustration. You mentally cursed the elevator for taking so long to get to your fucking floor.
"You know what? I hope you don't find a seat for next season at all. You act like a total peacock when everyone knows you're basically unemployed right now," you spitted out before you could even think twice.
Carlos raised an eyebrow, his expression momentarily serious. "Low blow, Piastri. Even for you."
You held his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down. "Just stating the obvious."
The elevator finally dinged, announcing your floor, and you stepped out swiftly, eager to end the conversation before it could escalate further.
Carlos Sainz had a way of getting under your skin like no one else, and the season had only just begun.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
INSTAGRAM
liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 186,379 others
ynpiastri and we’re back 🏁 i promise to make this season drama free
tagged: landonorris, lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri
view all 3,177 comments
username1 ICON IS BACKKKK
username2 nooo we need you to keep dragging sainz
mclaren Our favorite nepo sister 🧡
↳ ynpiastri that’s meeee
username3 yn always gives us lily x oscar content bless her
charles_leclerc What if I need you to fight someone from the grid for me?
↳ ynpiastri you know there’s one person i would gladly drag through the mood
↳ username1 HER HATRED FOR CARLOS LIVES
lilyzneimer love youuu✨
oscarpiastri Cute picture of me and Lily, thank u sis
↳ ynpiastri i’m just here for my babies 🫡
landonorris I know your reasons
↳ ynpiastri you’re so strange sometimes
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
It was a sunny day in Melbourne, and the paddock was buzzing with excitement. The Australian Grand Prix was always a favorite, and this year was no exception.
You felt good to be back home, you always felt proud when you saw Oscar on the track, but seeing him racing in your home country was something even more special.
Carlos was also back from his emergency surgery and ready to race again. And even though you would never admit it out loud, you were relieved to see him back and healthy. The news of his appendicitis had shocked you more than you’d expected, and you’d found yourself genuinely concerned about his wellbeing.
I'm just being a decent human being, you tried to convince yourself, It would be really scary if that happened to Oscar or Lando.
Walking through the paddock, you looked for a familiar face to hang out with before it was time for the track action to start, spotting Lando's back talking to someone you couldn't quite identify, you decided to approach him.
As you got closer, Lando shifted slightly, revealing the person he was talking to, Carlos.
He looked well, a healthy glow back in his cheeks, his smile easy and relaxed. He was wearing his team gear, the Ferrari red suiting him perfectly. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and despite the casual setting, he looked effortlessly handsome for someone who had a major surgery just two weeks ago.
Your stomach did a little flip. You hated to admit it, but lately your hatred towards Carlos had cooled down. Maybe it was the memory of that kiss, seeing him vulnerable after his surgery or the fact that he had been decent to Oscar so far. You couldn't deny that there was something about him that made you feel… softer.
However, you decided to ignore those thoughts and feelings every time they got to your head, because at the end of the day, there was no way he could ever feel or think the same way. It was better to keep hating each other.
Lando noticed you approaching and gave you a teasing grin. "Hey, YN! Look who’s back from the dead!"
Carlos turned to face you, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "Hey, Piastri," he greeted with a warm smile. "Back to your home turf, huh?"
"Yeah," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the flutter in your chest. "It feels good to be back."
Lando gave Carlos a pat on the shoulder. "I'll catch up with you later, mate," he said, winking at you before walking away, leaving the two of you alone.
You stood there for a moment, awkward silence filling the air. Maybe he was still tired from what he had been through, but he didn't show any signs of cockiness or wanting to annoy you this time.
"You look well," you finally said, your voice softer than usual. "I'm glad you're back."
Carlos chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "I heard you were worried about me."
"Don't let it go to your head," you replied quickly, though the usual bite in your tone was missing. You felt a bit embarrassed that he knew, "I’m just being a decent human being."
"Of course," Carlos said, his voice nonchalant, "Decent human being, sure."
"I’m serious," you insisted, though your voice lacked the usual edge. "But I am glad you’re okay. It must have been scary."
Carlos’s expression softened. "It was. But I had good doctors, and I’m ready to race again. Thanks for worrying."
There was silence again, and you noticed that this was the first time you and Carlos had an interaction that didn't include biting each other's heads off.
It felt nice.
"Well," you said after a minute of silence, "don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you had surgery. You're still on my watch."
"Wouldn’t have it any other way," Carlos smirked, "But for the record, it’s nice to see you care, even if you won’t admit it."
"Don't push your luck, Sainz," you warned, but there was a hint of playfulness in your voice.
"I wouldn't dare, Piastri."
"I should get going," you said, pointing towards the McLaren hospitality, "Good luck out there."
As you turned to walk away, Carlos's voice stopped you in your tracks.
You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in question.
"You know, this is the first time you don't call me a little bitch," Carlos said, a small playing on his face.
"What, you miss it already? Does it turn you own?"
"Maybe a little," Carlos chuckled, "Keeps things interesting."
You shook your head, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face.
"Well, good luck out there, little bitch."
You didn't wait to see his reaction, but you knew he was grinning from ear to ear.
Later that day, Carlos crossed the finish line first and won the Australian Grand Prix, sending the crowd into a frenzy. You watched as Carlos celebrated on the podium, spraying champagne with Lando and Charles and holding up the winner's trophy with pride.
You swore you played it cool, but everyone around you noticed the huge smile on your face.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
INSTAGRAM
liked by oscarpiastri, lilyhme and 197,637 others
ynpiastri you’ll always find your way back hoooome 🎶
↳ username1 how pissed do you think she was bc he won in australia
↳ username3 i love that she didn’t tag him tho 😭
alexandrasaintmleux Mama piastri >> 🫶
↳ ynpiastri our real queen
lilyzneimer the third pic is my faveeee
username4 surprised that she didn’t blur carlos in the podium pic
landonorris Please don’t make me do a shoey ever again
↳ username2 OMFG I NEED TO SEE THAT
↳ oscarpiastri Aussie traditions mate
↳ ynpiastri cry baby
carlossainz55 started following you
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
ynpiastri has added to their stories
carlossainz55 replied to your story
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
"You're not my best friend," Lando said, sitting on the plush couch of your hotel room, watching as you put a sweatshirt on, "You've been replaced with an alien or an evil twin, there's no way you're YN Piastri."
"Can you quit being dramatic," you rolled your eyes at him, "It's no big deal."
"You're grabbing sushi with Carlos Sainz," he stressed, moving his hands to emphasize, "You hate Carlos Sainz, it's been an issue for me for the last year because both of you force me to pick sides and I have to make sure you don't kill each other. And now you're suddenly going on dates."
"This is not a date," you protested, "Don't even say that out loud, it's gross."
"Then what is it? Because he asked you out and you said yes, that's literally a date."
You didn't give him a reply right away, hiding behind your your busy hands as you pretended to adjust your sweatshirt.
Truth was, you didn’t have an answer, at least not one that made sense. You couldn't blame Lando for thinking you've been replaced with someone else, because you'd never accept anything from Carlos last year, let alone willingly grab dinner with him.
But here you were, about to head out to meet him.
"I just want free dinner," you shrugged, "And he offered to buy it, so I'm taking advantage of it."
"Sure, free dinner," Lando gave you a skeptical look, crossing his arms, "Because you’ve never had other options for free dinner before, right? Your brother is rich, he could buy you whatever you want."
You huffed, trying to sound annoyed but feeling a bit defensive. "It's just sushi, Lando. Stop making it a big deal."
"You know, it's okay if you like him," he said, his tone genuine. "I mean, I get why you're hesitant, but it's fine to have feelings for someone, even if it's Carlos Sainz."
"Are you out of your mind?" you immediately said, your voice sharper than intended, "We're talking about the little bitch, what on earth makes you think that I could have feelings for him other than disgust and irritation."
"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're getting ready to get dinner with him, or that you were on the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was recovering from the surgery, or the time I almost caught you kiss-"
"God, just shut up," you interrupted him, "Oscar would understand. He knows I'm never going to get all lovey-dovey over Carlos."
"Oscar might buy whatever you tell him," Lando raised an eyebrow, "But that doesn't mean you're being honest with yourself. It's not the end of the world to admit you might have a crush."
"I do not have a crush on him," you insisted, your cheeks heating up. "It's just... complicated."
"Complicated how?" Lando pressed, leaning forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty straightforward. You’re intrigued by him, he’s intrigued by you, and you both can’t seem to stay away from each other."
You let his words sink in, Lando might be a year younger than you, and often perceived as a carefree guy who didn't have a serious bone in his body. But in reality, he was a very wise person who understood the complexities of situations better than most.
That was one of the reasons why he was your best friend.
"Look, it’s not that simple," you sighed, rubbing your temples, "We have history, and not the good kind. I don't trust him, and I don’t think he trusts me either. We're just… trying to be civil for once."
"That's good," Lando stood up from the couch, sitting beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "Honestly I was tired of dealing with your constant bickering, if you didn't kiss and make up on your own, I was going to lock you up in a closet until you resolved it."
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
INSTAGRAM
liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 201,633 others
ynpiastri just decent human being things
view all 3,988 comments
username1 BESTIEEEE
username2 THIS LOOKS LIKE A DATE
alexandrasaintmleux I just texted you !!!
↳ username1 LET ME INNNN
f1gossip 👀
username3 CARLOS SAINZ ???
↳ username1 girl no way they hate each other
↳ username2 he’s in the likes tho 😭
landonorris IM FREEEEE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFEEEE
↳ username1 wtfffff
oscarpiastri Answer my texts right now please
↳ username1 IM SCREAMING
↳ username2 OSCAR 😩
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
After a nice dinner and a couple of drinks, you and Carlos walked back to the hotel. The sushi had been surprisingly good, and the conversation… surprisingly pleasant.
The bickering between you was still present, but this time it wasn't harsh or spiteful, it was playful and and light-hearted. The tension that usually accompanied your interactions had lessened, and you actually acted friendly towards each other.
"I still can't believe you made me try that weird seaweed thing," you said, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked.
"You loved it, admit it," Carlos chuckled.
"Maybe a little," you conceded with a small smile, "How did you know this place anyways?"
"I like reading restaurant reviews online," he shrugged, "It's a random hobby of mine, and I'm going to need those in case I don't have a job next year."
You paused, his words sinking in. Carlos joked about it, but you knew the uncertainty of his future in Formula 1 must be horrible. The sport is cutthroat, and the thought of not finding a seat to race must be weighing on him heavily. It made you think about Oscar, and how that could happen to him too.
"I'm sorry for saying that I hope you don't find a seat next season," you blurted out, feeling a pang of guilt. "You're right, that was low, even for me."
"Are you really apologizing, Piastri?" he teased, "First you cared about my health, now you apologize. What's next? You'll stop calling me a little bitch?"
You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice behind it. "Don't push your luck, Sainz. Just take the apology and run with it."
"Alright, I'll take it," Carlos laughed, a genuine sound that made your heart skip a beat, "You must be praying I stay just so you have an excuse to argue with me, aren't you?"
"Don't flatter yourself," you shot back, grinning. "I can argue with anyone."
"But you like arguing with me the most," he said, his voice softening.
You didn't reply, the truth in his words making your heart race. From the corner of your eye, you saw the satisfied grin on his face.
Soon enough you reached the hotel lobby, and once you walked through the doors you spotted Charles and Alexandra by the reception desk.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Charles called out, drawing the attention of Alex, who looked at you with raised eyebrows.
"Just coming back from dinner," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. "What are you two up to?"
"We were just about to head up," Alexandra said, linking her arm with Charles's. "How was dinner?"
"Surprisingly good," Carlos said, glancing at you with a smirk.
Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "This is new. You two actually getting along?"
"Don't get used to it," you said, rolling your eyes. "I just wanted free dinner."
"Right," Charles said, not convinced. "Well, we're heading up, you coming?"
You all piled into the elevator, the small space filled with a mix of comfortable silence and light conversation. When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out, Carlos following close behind.
"Goodnight, guys," Alex called out as the elevator doors closed, giving you a look that screamed 'TEXT ME ASAP'
Carlos walked you to your room, the hallway dimly lit and quiet. As you walked side by side, the occasional brush of his arm against yours sent small shivers down your spine.
"So, the only reason you agreed to come with me tonight was because you wanted free dinner?" Carlos asked once you reached your room.
"Exactly, what else do you think would make me want to spend an evening with you?"
Carlos chuckled, leaning against the wall beside your door. "I don't know, maybe my charming personality and good looks?"
"Charming?" you raised your eyebrows at him, "You're literally the most annoying person I know."
"Likewise, Piastri," Carlos shot back, his smirk widening, "But here we are, aren't we?"
"You really think you're that special, don't you?" you said, rolling your eyes.
"I know I am, querida," Carlos replied, stepping closer. "And you can't get enough of me."
You looked away from him, his stare suddenly becoming overwhelming. He was really close, as close as he was the night you kissed at Jimmy'z, and even thinking about it has your neck crawling away in sweat.
"See? You can't even deny it." Carlos grinned, his eyes locking onto yours again, his voice dropping an octave as he took another step closer.
"Don't get any ideas," you warned, but your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it.
"I can't help it," he said softly, his face now inches from yours. "You bring out the best in me, Piastri."
"I still hate you," you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned in even closer.
"No, you don't," Carlos whispered back, his lips brushing against yours.
Before you could protest, he closed the distance and kissed you. It was gentle at first, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, the kiss deepened, becoming more intense and filled with a raw passion that took your breath away.
Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you kissed him back, losing yourself in the moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a small smile playing on Carlos's lips.
"Goodnight, Piastri," he whispered, his voice husky.
Unable to move from your spot, you watched him walk through the corridor and disappear into the elevator doors, your mind still blurry about what happened just seconds ago.
You were fucked.
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
TWITTER
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
A playlist full of pop classics played as you got ready for Lando's millionth win celebration.
He took the win at the Miami Grand Prix and the next following days were full of partying and champagne. You were beyond happy for him, and willing to put up with his multiple celebrations of his well deserved win.
This time, the setting was not that over the top, just a casual dinner at his place in Monaco with his close friends.
"Can I come in?" you heard after a knock on Oscar's guest bedroom, the place where you stayed when visiting Monaco.
"Sure," you replied, quickly meeting with your brother's figure.
Oscar entered the room, a casual grin on his face. He glanced around before his eyes settled on you. "Are you almost ready?"
"Yeah," you replied, adjusting an earring. "I hope this is Lando's last celebration, I can't keep up anymore.
"He's definitely on a roll," Oscar chuckled, "You know, Carlos is going to be there."
"I know," you said, looking away from him for a moment and trying to keep your tone nonchalant.
"You do?" Oscar raised a eyebrow.
"He's Lando's best friend, Osc, it's obvious he'll be there."
Oscar nodded slowly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Right, of course. But you two have been getting close lately, haven't you? You didn't even come for his neck after Miami, and you always do that."
You sighed, knowing where this conversation was heading. There was no denying that there was something between you and Carlos, your friends might not know about the times you've kissed, but they definitely noticed the shift in your behavior towards each other.
You found yourself enjoying his company, looking forward to catch a glimpse of him every weekend and craving his touch. You don't know if he feels the same way, but the way he looks at you and finds ways to get you alone tells you he does.
Admitting this to Oscar felt like crossing a line, even though he had always encouraged you to be open about your feelings.
"We're just… getting along better. That's all," you muttered, "And you asked me to behave on social media this season, I'm trying to do that."
"That's bullshit, YN," Oscar shook his head, a teasing smile forming on his lips, "Come on, admit it. Maybe the real reason you didn't attack him this time is because you like him."
"Oscar, we're not having this conversation," you quickly became defensive, "I don't know why everyone insist on something that's far from the truth. I don't like Sainz."
"Sis, it's okay if you like him," Oscar said, his tone gentle but insistent. "You don't have to hide it from me."
You looked away, feeling conflicted. Ever since you first met Carlos, there was something about him that intrigued you, however, you were too caught up in convincing yourself that he would never see you as more than his brand new rival's sister. Things getting worse when his incidents with Oscar on track started and you took that as an opportunity to be reckless to him.
It was a self defense mechanism for your own feelings.
"It's complicated, okay?" you said, feeling vulnerable but knowing you could trust him, "We spent last year coming from each other's necks all the time, but now he's nice to me and I am too, we spend time together, we kiss. But at the same time, I feel like I can't trust him, that he's going to switch to little bitch mode again and I'll end up feeling stupid for potentially catching feelings."
"Holy shit you've kissed!" Oscar said, his eyes widening, "Lando was right all along."
"Oh god, I shouldn't have said anything," you threw your head back in frustration.
"Sorry, sorry," he put his hands up in defense, "But It's okay to feel confused. You can talk to me, you know. I'm your brother, and I just want you to be happy. I can tell that this is really bothering you."
You sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I just don't know what to do, Osc. One minute I think I might actually like him, and the next I'm terrified of getting hurt."
"Look, I know Carlos can be intense on track, but off track? He's a good guy," Oscar sat beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders, "When he's not trying to push me off the track, he's really supportive and a nice guy. There's a reason why Lando adores him. Plus, maybe he's figuring things out too."
You leaned into Oscar's side, grateful for his comforting presence. "Do you really think so?"
"Yeah, I do," Oscar nodded reassuringly. "And you deserve to give yourself a chance at happiness. If Carlos could make you happy, then why not see where it goes?"
"When did you become so wise?" you teased, giving him a small smile, "You're supposed to be my annoying little brother who picks his nose and runs around the house."
"Hey, I can be wise when I want to be," Oscar chuckled, giving you a playful shove, "But don't worry, I'll always be your annoying little brother, nose-picking and all."
You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. "Thanks, Osc. I needed this."
"Anytime, sis," Oscar said warmly, giving you a quick hug. "Now, come on. Lando is probably drunk already and we haven't made it to his house yet."
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
INSTAGRAM
liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux and 215,726 others
ynpiastri the rumors are true: lando norris keeps celebrating his miami win even tho it’s been a week
view all 3,967 comments
username1 so iconic tbh
username2 EXCUSE ME MISS IS THAT CARLOS SAINZ IN THE LAST PIC ??
↳ username1 i thought they hated each other 😭
danielricciardo 🙌
alexandrasaintmleux 👀 I see you
↳ ynpiastri and i don’t see you over her which means your boyfriend sucks for not bringing you
↳ charles_leclerc …..
landonorris IM V DRVNK OMG
↳ username3 i love him 😭😭😭😩
username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri the ultimate enemies to lovers lowkey
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
You're not sure how it happened, but Carlos' arm laid casually in the back of your chair as you chatted with those around you. His fingers gently brushed your bare shoulder from time to time, his thigh pressed to yours under the table.
Maybe it was the couple glasses of champagne you both had, you're not sure. But you definitely didn't want to move from your spot.
No one dared to say anything about it, but your friends had teasing grins at the sight. You knew you'll have to deal with them later, but you decided to ignore it for the night.
"Alright, I think I'm calling it a night," Oscar said as he got up from his chair, Lando immediately booed, "Are you coming, YN?"
You looked at him with raised eyebrows, you definitely didn't want to leave yet, feeling too comfortable in Carlos' presence. In addition to that, you haven't had a chance to get him alone, and that was enough to not want the night to end.
After a minute of silence from you, Carlos spoke up, "I can give her a ride home if she doesn't want to leave yet," he offered, his voice smooth and nonchalant.
"Oh, a private chauffeur service now, Carlos? How fancy," Max teased from across the table, making the entire group laugh.
Oscar hesitated, glancing between you and Carlos, his protective instincts kicking in. "Are you okay with that, YN?"
"Yeah, I'm okay with it," you met Oscar's eyes and nodded, "Or I can just crash here, Lando is too drunk to notice anyway, don't want to cause much trouble."
"It's really no trouble," he insisted, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. "I'll make sure you get home safely."
Oscar seemed to relax a bit, though you could tell he was still a little uneasy. "Alright then. Just... be careful, okay?"
"Don't worry, Osc," you replied, standing up and giving him a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow."
As Oscar left, the group continued to tease and laugh. You always enjoyed when the drivers were in a casual setting like this one, where they could forget about competition and teams and just hang out and have fun.
You stayed glued to Carlos the entire time, getting even closer as the night went on, you could feel your eyelids getting heavy, so you laid your head on his shoulder.
"You're falling asleep on me, hermosa," Carlos whispered to you, not moving your head from its place.
"I'm not," you protested, but at the same time you did a yawn escaped your mouth, which made Carlos laugh.
"Come on let's get you home," Carlos offered you his hand.
You took Carlos' hand, not even thinking twice about it. As you both stood to leave, your friends couldn't resist one last round of teasing.
"No funny business, Carlos," Charles called out, grinning widely. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. "We have Oscar on speed dial."
"Yeah, don't make me come after you, that's also my sister," Lando added, too drunk to even make sense.
You laughed, waving goodbye to everyone as you and Carlos made your way out. The cool night air was refreshing as you walked to his car, your hand still in his.
The drive to Oscar's place was quiet but comfortable. Carlos kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console close to you. You found yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the streetlights played over his features.
At one point, Carlos glanced over and caught you staring. "You're staring," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
You felt your cheeks heat up but didn't look away. "Maybe I am," you replied, a teasing edge in your voice. "You have a problem with that?"
"Not at all, Piastri. Not at all."
When you arrived at Oscar's place, Carlos parked the car but you made no move to get out. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.
"Are you ready to stop pretending we hate each other?" Carlos asked suddenly, his voice low and earnest. "Because I am."
His words hung in the air, causing your heart to skip a beat. The intensity in his gaze made it clear he wasn't playing around or teasing you. He was being real and serious.
You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Yeah, I am."
Your heart pounded in your chest as you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a mix of tenderness and hunger. The world outside the car ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the way his kiss made you feel.
Carlos' other hand found its way to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pressed you closer. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on as if letting go meant losing this moment forever.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Carlos' eyes searched yours, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"But… I'm not ready to stop calling you a little bitch, though."
౨ৎ after a photoshoot with formula 1 driver carlos sainz, his fans try to get you two together…in questionable comments.
౨ৎ carlos sainz x model!f!reader, smau, romance, just cs55 fans being unhinged (i am one of them tbh), fc: jennie
from jia, finallt writing for boyfie,, how dare i call myself carlossainzfan87 and not make a single fic for him (ㅠᯅㅠ) this idea was from these two asks (one) (two) so thank u for the idea !!!!
lorealparis
Liked by carlossainz55, yourusername, and others
lorealparis Flawless chemistry. yourusername carlossainz55
view all comments
fan1 omg the duo we never knew we needed???
fan2 MY PARENTS!!
fan3 stop bc why are they lowkey cute togetherr 👀
fan4 y/n give this man a chance he's single !!!!
⤷ fan5 she's too good for him lmao
⋆☆⋆
yourusername
Liked by vmagazine, yourbff, and others
yourusername play the whole world in mono 🤍 vmagazine
view all comments
fan1 IT GIRLL
fan2 y/n, carlos saved my dog from eating a brownie by digging his fingers into my dog’s rectum not kidding
↳ fan3 i aspire to be this convincing
vmagazine gorgeous 🖤 ♥︎ by author
fan4 carlos was onto smth when he saw this 🫣
⋆☆⋆
carlossainz55
Liked by pierregasly, alex_albon, and others
carlossainz55 Before race snacks
view all comments
fan1 😍🔥
fan2 💙💙
alex_albon and you said you weren’t hungry for chicken, i see how it is 😒
fan3
fan4 yo thanks for the bugatti carlos, i can finally feed my family🙏
⋆☆⋆
yourusername
Liked by carlossainz55, lilymhe, and others
yourusername all eyes on gentlemonster
view all comments
fan1 it’s a need if it’s from y/n 😚
fan2 Y/N I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL WHEN CARLOS PAID FOR MY SURGERY BILLS #ThatsMyMrBeast
gentlemonster all eyes on y/n 👀 ♥︎ by author
fan3 Boiii what is carlos sainz doing in the likes
↳ fan4 facts bro’s NOT slick 🤣🤣🤣
⋆☆⋆
⋆☆⋆
carlossainz55
Liked by williamsf1official, yourusername, and others
carlossainz55 Everything today 🕶️
view all comments
fan1 VAMOS CARLOS!
fan2 🔥🔥🔥
fan3 i know those glasses anywhere..
fan4 gosh he’s so fine
fan5 i see a familiar username in the likes hmm
⋆☆⋆
yourusername
Liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, and others
yourusername source?
view all comments
fan1 y/n who's the mystery man
fan2 NO CARLOS UR BALL NOOO
fan3 so prettyy💙
carlossainz55 Coffee order?
↳ yourusername not coffee, just happens to be earl grey lol
fan4 since when did y/n like f1?
↳ fan5 prob since she met carlos lmao
fan6 y/n Did you know that i was in the middle of a philadelphian river and carlos sainz jr (YES HIM!) came into the chums of philly and saved me from drowning
⋆☆⋆
⋆☆⋆
yourusername
Liked by carlossainz55, williamsf1official, and others
yourusername Cariño
view all comments
carlossainz55 You love me a lot, dont you?
↳ yourusername your fans started it
↳ carlossainz55 Thankfully
fan1 NO WAYYY OMG!!
lorealparis Icons 💙🤍
fan2 BROOO Y/N DID YOU KNOW THAT CARLOS DELIVERED MY TRIPLETS LAST NIGHT
fan3 fact or cap
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."
-
-
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!
-
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
-
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."
-
-
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! ✨
