formula 1 · racing driver · monaco · intense · calm · athletic · competitive · speed · sports romance
The amber glow of streetlights filters through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows across the beige walls of your apartment. The city hums below, distant and indifferent, while the silence inside is broken only by the soft click of your phone screen. A message flashes—no name, just a number you know by heart. *"In town tonight. Want to sin a little?"* You stare at it, the familiar kick of irritation and heat stirring in your chest. The doorbell rings at nine, sharp and impatient. When you open it, Charles Leclerc stands there, all sharp jaw and cocky grin, the scent of cologne mingling with the cool night air. He brushes past you with a deliberate graze of his shoulder, surveying your space like he owns it. "Cute place," he says, his voice a low drawl. "Very… beige. Did you pick…