Word : Around 1 K
CHARLOS!!! The kind of trope that screams i miss my husband , or he wouldve done this if he was still here since they pretty much are divorced now
"I miss you "
Word : around 1 K
-----------------------------------------------
Charles moved gently under his sheets, his skin shivering from the cold. After almost four years with a certain Spaniard, he had forgotten how lonely it could be to sleep alone in a bed three times his size. He had got used to his husband's light snores, Spanish words whispered in the night. The memory of a vanished warmth engulfing his body, he had tried to hold on to it as best he could, trying to rediscover the softness and comfort that had lulled him through the nights, but nothing had helped, Carlos was no longer there, and everything in their house was a reminder of that.
His old toothbrush was still in the bathroom, sitting next to the Monegasque's, the two objects forming a pair so inescapable that Charles was obliged to abandon his own to buy a new one, unable to throw both away.
The kitchen cupboards were always full of products straight from Spain, sauces, pastes, spices, all used by Carlos, most of the time to reproduce the recipes of his beloved mother, which Charles was delighted to taste, although he didn't know how the dark-haired man managed to make these recipes so delicious.
If you looked at the entrance to the flat, as Charles sometimes did when he was bored, you could see a bag full of golf clubs. They had been put there after Carlos had the unfortunate tendency to drop things in his haste after being told about a round of golf by his friends. So, whenever the Spaniard wanted to go out, he had his clubs close to him. An ingenious decision by a more carefree Charles, a bitter reminder of his companion's absence for a mature Charles, but one that Carlos would surely have called a killjoy.
The previously bright flat seemed far more macabre, part of it being shamelessly ripped away, the place now haunted by a soul in perpetual search of the one who had once completed it.
Even Leo seemed less enthusiastic, the young puppy only chewing on what was up to him, his master becoming his only interesting toy, the cushions, clothes and duvets finally living without the fear of being torn apart by the mutt's jaws.
However....
Carlos had only been gone for 2 months.
2 short months.
Which seemed interminable to the younger man, they were still a couple, sending each other frequent messages. But Carlos was no longer physically at his side and Charles felt it.
And while Carlos was no longer living with the Monegasque.
Charles had no time for the Spaniard.
The man was constantly busy with the Italian team, being invited to the most sumptuous dinners as well as the most pointless meetings, always there to put on a good show, to represent the 'soul' of Ferrari.
And there was nothing Carlos could do about it. Already, when they were team-mates Charles was overwhelmed, the luxury brand asking much more of the younger than the older, after all Ferrari fans had become addicted to his smile and his eyes, much more than any physical or mental trait of the Spaniard, who had accepted his position as Side-kick.
But since he'd left for William, everything had speeded up, and he no longer even had the chance to call Charles, only being able to send him messages that he hoped the chestnut would have time to read. Perhaps where he lived was warmer, and traces of his loved ones could be seen everywhere. The fact remained that he no longer had any of Charles's possessions, not an accessory, not a piece of clothing, not even a gift, everything had remained in Monaco, their home.
He only glimpsed the Monegasque's life through social networks and the media, a bitter taste spilling into his mouth as soon as he remembered that not so long ago, he was the man behind the camera. The Monegasque loved having "artistic" images of himself or his dog, and Carlos in turn enjoyed taking photos of them, freezing this shared happiness so that he could savour it a little more later.
A promise had kept them going for a while, a simple promise but one that was so important to them, both of them knowing that if he broke it.....
Their relationship would be over.
It was entitled:
"If one of us calls at 16:55, the other is obliged to answer"
Quick, easy, concise.
And as the winter chill consumed his body, Charles thought about it, his eyes glued to the time on his phone. Should he do it or not? He had missed several of Carlos's calls unintentionally and the Spaniard had never complained, so it was his turn to make the first move, wasn't it? And then.... He missed the dark-haired man's voice, his slight accent warming the younger man's body, imagining the tired smile on his partner's face after a tiring, tedious but fortunately victorious race.
The minutes passed like drops falling one by one on a pane of glass, creating a trickle of water like a torrent. Charles counted them, the wait being both too short and too long, the hope of calling but the fear of having no one at the other end of the line growing inside him.
16:53
Charles hastily put his phone under his pillow, short of breath, there was no point in calling Carlos at this hour, he was bound to disturb him. Wouldn't he?
16:54
He fumbled around in bed, almost dropping his phone and breaking it. The screen of the device reflected on his pupil, where it read "Chili 🌶️❤️". His heart skipped a beat at the nickname, it had been a long time since he'd called his husband that. More affectionate nicknames replaced it, the sensation of them still beneath Charles's lips, waiting to be uttered once more....
16 : 55
Time did not stand still as the Monegasque expected, he was not after all in a romance a l'eau de rose, no important moment came, his fingers trembling in front of the icon to call.
And just as he was about to go back to sleep, his eyes darting around and the thought that had been haunting him for a week now finally seeming to come true, he heard a hum. It was short, quick, almost inaudible, but it was there and its mere existence was a breath of fresh air after weeks of swimming in doubt.
"Amor? asked the voice over the phone, a silly grin forming on Charles's face.
-Oui chéri ? replied the Monegasque, slowly catching his breath.
- I.... I mi-Wait! Are you still buying Leo the kibble I recommended?
- The ones that cost more than a gourmet meal?
- Hey! He deserves luxury, he's our prince after all.
- Yeah.... Our prince.... Charles replied, a melancholy smile forming on his lips as he remembered Carlos's love for his dog, their dog, and how jealous he had been of it.
-....
- You only called me to talk about this?
- Why would I call you about anything else? The Spaniard replied point-blank.
The answer was like a dagger to the heart. The Monegasque wasn't sure he could get over it.
- No reason.... I was just imagining things.
- See you in Australia? Promise?
- Promise!"
The call then ended, Charles curling up in his bed, while Carlos insulted himself because of his stupidity. It was the only time the Monegasque had answered him and he hadn't even managed to talk about what he wanted, the feeling of being too much growing inside him as the conversation progressed.
He did, however, write one last little message, hoping that the younger man hadn't fallen asleep yet:
"I miss you"
A little heart being sent in reply, breaking the brunet's heart even more.
Bloody hell!
Why wasn't he in Charles' arms!
He could have comforted him all he wanted, cooking pancakes until he was obese, singing the cheesy French music that the Monegasque loved.
He would have loved to be by her side so much....
So much that it consumed him.
The memories of this shared life were the best fuel for the fire that was destroying him little by little.
But hey...
They were going to meet again, or so he hoped.
The stolen kisses between each race, hidden from everyone's eyes, were surely the best way to stop this destructive fire.
But in the meantime, as it grew day by day, perhaps it would be unstoppable? The damage it would have caused was too deep, incapable of even being cured with any kind of treatment.
This....
Only time will tell.
-------------------------------------------------
I hesitated whether to make the ending happy or sad and I ended up with the open ending, I'm not sure if I'm 100% on theme but all in all I enjoyed writing this little story, I hope you enjoyed reading it 🤗
If someone had a request too
More Posts from Fatigue-d and Others
Maybe life wasn't so bad after all (remembering tomorrow is Wednesday).
Original picture :
For all RBR's haters !
Not driver Au ! :
Lance as head of Aston Martin F1 subsidiary ( because he's still a F1 fan )
Esteban engineer Au !
I HOPE SOMEONE GET IT TOO !!!!
( I can yap it about until the end of the days )
" His husband "
Chapter : 2/3
Words : 5500
Summary :
Tag : fluff , domestic fluff , misunderstanding
Daniel had thought it was a dream when Max had called him that, but had he really just said that? A beatific smile formed on his lips as Max fell asleep, oblivious to the impact of his words.
Or 5 times Max inadvertently calls Daniel "his husband" and once he says it knowingly.
May I request Brazil 2003 inspired fic where fernando's injuries were worse than it was and since mark indirectly caused fernando's crash he felt extreme guilt and worry as he tried to help fernando before the medic arrive?
"BRAZIL 2003 "
Word : around 1 K
--------------------------------------
Mark took a deep breath, his vision blurred, his limbs weak, he had to get out of here quickly before someone else crashed into him. Almost half the grid had crashed at turn three, the last survivors fighting in the Brazilian rain, Mark had been one of them before losing control.
He now found himself in the middle of the road, the wreckage of his vehicle surrounding him as he tried as best he could to get out of it. He felt gusts of wind whip past him as the survivors still in the race made their way across the minefield.
However, one of them didn't make it and Mark saw a car come into contact with one of the pieces of debris before bouncing off the railings, the front of the car completely destroyed. It all happened so quickly that Mark didn't have time to shout the Spaniard's name before he crashed. The deafening noise made the Australian grit his teeth as he hastily removed his seatbelt.
He only managed to do so after a few seconds of pure struggle, his hands trembling from stress not making the task any easier. His thoughts blurred as he ran towards the brunette, his legs loose, the Jaguar driver on the verge of collapsing. His torrent of thoughts had only one thing in common, tending towards the same point, a person to be precise.
Fernando Alonso
Guilt made his steps heavier, even as he hoped the Spaniard hadn't been too badly hurt. The dark-haired driver never stopped, the dopamine in his blood becoming his drug, the youngest unable to get rid of it, so if someone had told him to slow down, he obviously wouldn't have listened. His only objective was to overtake the one in front of him by any means necessary.
Mark knew that his crash could injure people, he sensed it himself, but now that he was in front of the carcass of Fernando's Formula 1 car, the Spaniard trying as best he could to get rid of it without succeeding, he felt like the world was falling apart.
Shit!
Why was he driving so badly! Fernando had been injured because of him, the Spaniard grumbling in his native tongue before stopping suddenly, staring at the Australian with a frightened look in his eyes.
"What's up? Nando, are you okay? I'll help you out!
- Mark.... My leg's stuck... I can't feel it...
The older man's heart rate suddenly increased, as he imagined all that could have happened as a result of this injury.
Was Fernando going to stop driving because of him?
The Spaniard was born for speed! And Mark was going to crush his dreams.... The brunette will hold a grudge against him for the rest of his life, he's sure of it. He'll look at him with a look of disgust, never forgetting the man he loved but who destroyed him.
At least that's what Mark hopes .... Perhaps Fernando will never want to speak to him again, quickly forgetting him and their life together, their time together, their stolen kiss, their shared laugh....
Mark never wanted to do that.... Damn it.... Why didn't he pay more attention? Why did he keep driving through the torrential rain?
Why did- Mark! Damn it! Mark, help me! shouted Fernando, bringing the Australian's thoughts back into focus.
- Shit, shit, shit," said the Australian quickly, "I'm so sorry Nando, I.....
He hastily removed Fernando's helmet, throwing it on the ground as he checked his condition, the younger man looked lost, his jaw clenched in pain, blood trickling down his left flank.
- Just.... Get me out of here, then we can talk again, the others are still driving, I thought I saw you dead as you ran towards me. Fernando said, his eyes fluttering with fatigue, his head spinning as he felt part of his body bleed to death.
Mark couldn't hear very well, too busy undoing the Renault driver's seatbelt, his trembling hands still failing him as his stress mounted.
- I had to do it, I wasn't going to let you get hurt in the middle of a race!
- You're more likely to die walking on the circuit than I am to get hurt! Fernando replied fervently, his raised voice creating a headache.
Mark preferred to ignore the Spaniard's comment, too busy trying to get him out of the carcass of the vehicle. A sigh of relief left his lips as he finally managed to remove the seatbelt, and he lifted the Spaniard up, but the latter cried out in pain, Mark putting him down immediately.
- It's my leg.... The Spaniard explained breathlessly, the pain making him increasingly irritable and unstable.
Mark bit his lip, a habit he'd had since he was very young, indicating his stress and fear. Fernando had laughed about it once, saying he looked like a lingerie model trying to look sexy.
- Hang on, hang on... I'm going to try something, it might hurt you.
He tried once more to pull the Spaniard, this time more gently, but it was no use, the dark-haired man always screamed in pain when they tried to pull him out of the Renault.
- Mierda", said the Spaniard into the wind, a small tear of pain running down his right cheek.
Mark's anxiety reached its peak, terrified of the consequences of this collision, which he had caused entirely himself.
He can't do it...
He can't help the youngest, even though he promised him.... Promised to be by his side, promised to help him despite their rivalry, promised never to harm him. These weren't promises made in haste, nor written on a contract to make it "official", but they were the basis of their relationship, a shared trust that seemed almost indestructible.
Mark could do nothing but watch the agonised cries of the man he loved as he was finally rescued by competent people, the Australian's helplessness tearing at his insides, a fish making his thoughts fuzzy and his movements slow, his only certainty being his inability to help Fernando.
"Sorry, Nando, sorry" he whispered to himself, as he felt the Spaniard's gaze on him, his eyes watering and his jaw clenched with pain. The Spaniard did nothing, apart from perhaps preventing Mark from looking at his bleeding leg, using his voice as a distraction.
"It's nothing, Cabron, just a scratch! The Renault driver assured him, before leaving for good with the medical team, who were carrying him and preventing the various cameras around and Mark from being able to see the damage caused to the driver's body.
Standing up to face the fruits of his deeds, Mark finally felt the rain stop, bringing this tortuous race to a close. The rain reminded him of a distant conversation he'd had with the Renault driver.
Shit....
He had promised a candlelit dinner after the race....
Having already imagined Fernando's smile when he learned that Mark had learnt some Asturian recipes just for him....
The hospital was the last thing on his mind.
But perhaps if he brought back a dish on the sly, the Spaniard would still be happy.
It was this glimmer of hope that kept Mark from collapsing under the guilt of his actions.
--------------------------------------
HAPPY WEBBONSO WEDNESDAY!!!
You made me laugh because I've already written about Brazil 2003 in one of my fanfics, and it was a webbonso
OK, I'll stop talking!
I hope you enjoyed the fic 🤗
For those who want to do a request too
The idea seems very interesting 👀👀
And yes
IT'S TIME FOR FERIC PROPAGANDA🗣️‼️‼️
Okay I have a super random Feric headcanon inspired by a dream I had last night
An AU where Eric is a real estate agent (he always wears glasses in this. I know you all and Ferran would appreciate it) and Ferran wants to buy a house of course BUT he always brings Pedri with him (because he needs someone with working braincells to help him make the right decision). So Eric thinks that they are a couple looking for a place together and never tries anything with Ferran until one day where another guy (= Gavi) tags along as well and Eric thinks "oh my god he has TWO BOYFRIENDS?? HOW CAN I COMPETE WITH THAT" but then finally finds out that neither of them is dating Ferran, they are just his best friend and his best friend's boyfriend - not only that, he also finds out that Ferran is SINGLE and yeah they end up hooking up on the couch of one of the houses Eric is showing him because fuck professionalism and work ethics
*for those who are interested (= nobody): my random dream was that Ferran took part in an Italian tv show where people who want to buy a house are shown three houses by three different real estate agents and at the end of the episode they have to pick one
I actually write a fic , but idk what type of student would be Eric Garcia:
WE ARE IN THE FINALS VS BROCEDEEEESSSS. Please VOTE MAXIEL FOR THE WIN PLEASE 🦁🍯🦡
-
dummythicc liked this · 4 months ago -
pisangopor liked this · 4 months ago -
fortunatelycrazyyouth liked this · 4 months ago -
outerspaceyeol liked this · 4 months ago -
sainzswft liked this · 4 months ago -
devilsainz liked this · 5 months ago -
paulusion liked this · 5 months ago -
sa6iki liked this · 5 months ago -
babypaperhideout liked this · 5 months ago -
lotties55 liked this · 5 months ago -
system-of-a-xan liked this · 5 months ago -
nerdygeekysstuff liked this · 5 months ago -
hello-1115115 liked this · 5 months ago -
loud-italian-fangirl liked this · 5 months ago -
jaggedstone23 liked this · 5 months ago -
c2-eh liked this · 5 months ago -
dopedoopey liked this · 5 months ago -
lenulkasros liked this · 5 months ago -
skittlespittle liked this · 5 months ago -
sheesh1311 liked this · 5 months ago -
instantlythoughtfulduck liked this · 5 months ago -
eapunetaestoestadificil liked this · 5 months ago -
itsleslie1998 liked this · 5 months ago -
starz-blue-starlight liked this · 5 months ago -
thatoneidiot16 liked this · 5 months ago -
riptide07 liked this · 5 months ago
-
atrvkd liked this · 5 months ago -
vsyrworld liked this · 5 months ago -
thearcheryhunter liked this · 5 months ago -
baloofski liked this · 5 months ago -
leeroy-10 liked this · 5 months ago -
lynnxx-0 liked this · 5 months ago -
silia1raf liked this · 5 months ago -
leo-antares liked this · 5 months ago -
yeolbeibe liked this · 5 months ago -
fatigue-d reblogged this · 5 months ago
To sleep or to write , that is the question Webbonso Wednesday and Feric Friday are the best days my whole personality is summed up: F1, Barça, Anime, and Genshin Tamakilight in AO3
29 posts