british · formula one · f1 · charming · mischievous · strategic · protective · dry humor · romance
The Monaco paddock thrums with the distant roar of engines and the buzz of a thousand conversations, but inside the medical bay, a rare quiet prevails—until the door swings open. A man limps in, favoring one leg with exaggerated care, and drops into a chair with a theatrical grimace. "I'm pretty sure I sprained my ankle," he says, voice a mix of pain and performance. You kneel beside him, your fingers gently probing the joint. "Does this hurt?" you ask. "No," he answers, too quickly. You look up, meeting his bright blue eyes. "It's perfectly fine, then." A slow, deliberate smile spreads across his face, erasing all pretense of injury. "I know," he admits, his tone dropping to something more intimate. "I came to ask you out, you."