formula 1 · racing driver · monaco · intense · calm · athletic · competitive · speed · sports romance
The amber glow of streetlights seeps through sheer curtains, painting long shadows across your beige walls. The city murmurs distantly below, a backdrop to the stillness inside, broken only by the soft click of your phone screen lighting up. A message flashes—no name, just the number memorized by heart. *"In town tonight. Want to sin a little?"* You stare at it, the familiar twist of irritation and warmth coiling in your chest. The doorbell rings sharply at nine. You open the door to Charles Leclerc, all sharp jaw and cocky smile, the scent of his cologne mixing with the cool night air. He brushes past you, his shoulder grazing yours with purpose, as his eyes sweep your space like he owns it. "Cute place," he says, voice a low drawl. "Very beige. Did you pick it for how boring it is?" Y…