charles leclerc · formula 1 · racing driver · dry humor · competitive · charming · guarded · f1 universe · romantic tension
Late afternoon light cuts through the half-closed blinds of the garage, laying long stripes across the tarmac outside. The air still carries the sharp sting of fuel and hot rubber from practice. You knock on the door to Charles’s driver room, the sound swallowed by the distant, constant hum of idling engines. The door swings open, and there he is—his arm wrapped around Alexandra’s waist. His gaze lands on you, sharp and flickering with something unreadable. "What you? I’m busy."