Formula Fanfics 13

mon amour,

i should be asleep. the world outside is quiet, the kind of quiet that only exists in the hours where night is holding on and morning hasn't yet arrived. but my mind is full of you, full of thoughts i can't keep to myself anymore, not when they feel this heavy, this soft, this true.

so I'm writing to you, hoping these words find you gently.

there is something about loving you that feels... inevitable. not sudden, not overwhelming, not explosive. just inevitable, like the tide coming home to the shore, again and again, always certain of where it belongs.

you are where i belong.

i love the way you look at me when I'm lost in my own head. the way your touch pulls me back to earth. the way you say my name like it means something more than just letters, like you're holding the whole of me in one breath.

with you, i am not the man the world sees. i am not expectations or pressure or mistakes turned into headlines. with you... i am simply charles. human. flawed. hopeful. wanting.

and you love that man, not the version built for cameras. that is a gift i will spend the rest of my life trying to deserve.

i want to tell you something honestly: sometimes i am afraid of how much i feel for you. not because it is too much, but because it is so profoundly steady. so constant. i have loved before, but never like this, never with this sense of certainty that settles into my bones.

you make the noise quiet. you make the chaos make sense. you make my heart feel like it has found its home.

and i love you. more deeply than i have ever loved anyone. more softly than words can describe. more fiercely than i will ever admit out loud.

i love your smile, the one that lights your whole face. i love your stubbornness, your kindness, your quiet strength. i love the way you reach for me in your sleep. i love the tiny moments, the ordinary ones, the ones no one else sees.

i want a life with you, whatever shape it takes, however it unfolds. the slow mornings. the shared routines. the laughter. the arguments we resolve by holding each other close. the future we build piece by piece, with patience and with love.

keep this letter somewhere safe, mon coeur. and when you read it again someday, i hope it reminds you of this truth:

i am yours. today, tomorrow, always.

♡ how the weekend feels without you: louder. messier. slightly unbalanced. yuki pretends it doesn't matter, jokes about it, shrugs it off, but the absence is obvious to him the second he realises there's no one there to keep him steady.

♡ what he does differently: • complains more, even about small things. • paces instead of sitting still. • gets frustrated quicker, then cools off faster. • checks his phone like he's waiting for something.

♡ how he keeps you close: • wears the hoodie you left behind, even when it's too warm. • keeps your messages open, rereading them between sessions. • listens to your voice notes before getting in the car, volume way up.

♡ how he texts you: fast. blunt. affectionate. "track is annoying." "car is fine." "i miss you." no filter. no pretending.

♡ the paddock noticing your absence: • someone asks where you are. • yuki groans. "not here." • everyone knows that means he's missing you.

♡ race day without you: • emotions right on the surface before the start. • laser-focused once the lights go out. • after the race, the mood swings hit harder than usual.

♡ the call after the chequered flag: he answers instantly. if it went well, he's loud, excited, talking over himself. if it didn't, he vents for exactly thirty seconds, then goes quiet, letting you calm him.

♡ the thing he never admits nicely: that you keep him balanced. that without you there, everything feels louder in his head.

I've just finished everything for the day. Long meetings, long debriefs... you know how it goes. I'm a little tired, but it's nothing a quiet evening with you wouldn't fix.

I was thinking about dinner. Something simple, maybe tacos, maybe we cook together. I miss that. I miss you, actually. More than I should during a race weekend.

The kids wan't taco's too. You're a bad influence, they like you more than me.

hey,

i'm not great at this. you probably knew that already.

i'm more of a... show-you-i-care kind of person. the small stuff; fixing things before you notice they're broken, making sure your tyres aren't bald, keeping the pantry stocked with that snack you pretend you don't eat in one sitting. that's my language.

but there are some things actions don't cover. so here I am, writing a letter, which should tell you just how much you matter. don't get used to it, or do. i wouldn't be doing this if you weren't worth it.

i want you to know something simple: you've changed my life. quietly. steadily. without fanfare.

i didn't expect to fall for someone the way I've fallen for you. i didn't expect to soften the way I have. i didn't expect to find myself thinking about you while I'm doing the most mundane things, waiting for a debrief, making coffee, standing in a lift. you've become part of my thoughts without asking permission.

and the part that surprises me most? i like it. more than i can explain.

you make my days make sense. not because they're perfect, but because you're in them. you're the calm after the chaos, the warmth after a long day, the person i want to sit next to when everything is quiet.

i love the way you laugh. i love the way you look at me like you see through the grumpy exterior. i love that you don't shy away from calling me out when i'm being difficult. i love that you stay anyway.

you're good for me. better than i deserve half the time. and i'm working on being the kind of man who shows you exactly why you were right to choose me.

so here it is, the thing i probably don't say enough:

i love you. plain and uncomplicated. the real kind, the kind that lasts.

i'll be back later tonight. don't wait up unless you want to, though i won't lie, i like it when you do.

♡ relationship type: steady, warm, grounding love with a streak of playful chaos. he's shy at first but once he's yours, he loves with his whole chest.

♡ love languages: • acts of service: grabs you coffee, fixes things, drives you everywhere, helps before you ask. • physical touch: handholding, chin on your shoulder, cuddles that feel like home. • quality time: sitting together doing absolutely nothing. • soft words whispered only when you're alone.

♡ their favourite thing about you: your presence. he swears the room feels calmer the moment you walk in.

♡ you two in private: • he hugs you from behind constantly, arms tight around your waist. • shy kisses that turn into longer, deeper ones when he relaxes. • he giggles against your neck when you tickle him. • sits with his head in your lap while you play with his hair. • loves lying on your chest listening to your heartbeat. • can't sleep without touching you, even just a leg resting against yours.

♡ you two in public: • protective in a quiet, gentlemanly way. guides you with a hand at your back. • blushes whenever you kiss his cheek. • drivers tease him because he gets distracted when you're trackside. • fans adore the way he always looks for you in a crowd. • he never overdoes PDA but gives you soft eyes all the time.

♡ dates you'd go on: • cozy movie nights with blankets and takeout. • outdoor walks at sunset, hand in hand. • cute breakfast dates with pancakes and shared bites. • game arcade dates; he gets competitive, you distract him with kisses. • weekend getaways to quiet cabins or beach spots.

♡ your arguments look like: brief, emotional misunderstandings. he gets quiet, you get teary, then he comes back with gentle apologies and wraps you in a long hug until everything feels right again.

♡ the moment they realised they loved you: you showed up to support him on a weekend when no one expected you to, he saw you standing there, smiling, and his whole heart dropped.

♡ the reason everyone else knows you're together: the way you two gravitate toward each other, even in groups, even in chaos, you somehow end up shoulder to shoulder.

♡ nicknames they use for you: baby, sweetheart, angel, my girl, honey, gorgeous.

♡ songs that fit your relationship: • i wanna be yours – arctic monkeys • seaside – hozier • casual love – eden

♡ how the paddock views the relationship: • everyone thinks you're the cutest, calmest couple. • max & isack tease him endlessly, he blushes every time. • engineers adore you because Liam's confidence goes up when you're there. • fans dub you the "softly obsessed couple."

He spends the whole day acting like it doesn't matter. "This hat?" he says, grinning under the paper crown Lando forced onto him. "It's fashion."

The party is chaos. There's music, tequila, a half-melted cake. Someone gave him a glittery sash that says 'Birthday King' he won't take off. He's loud, and most importantly glowing.

But you know him better than anyone. You see it in the way his hand lingers a little longer on your back. The way his eyes keep flicking to you across the room. The second the door shuts behind you both that night, he drops the act. You push him up against it and he laughs breathlessly.

"Oh," he grins. "So now you're giving me attention."

"You've been begging for it all day."

"I thought I was subtle."

"You absolutely were not." You kiss him hard. He moans into it, hands everywhere now: lifting your dress, gripping your thighs, hands tightening on your hips.

"You gonna let me have my present?" he murmurs.

You drop to your knees.

"Oh fuck."

You take your time. He's already half-hard, the anticipation getting to him. You mouth at him through his boxers until he's cursing, hips twitching, voice wrecked. "Such a tease," he breathes.

You hum and pull him out, licking a slow stripe up the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip. "Jesus- yes-"

You suck him off slow, letting him feel every second of it, keeping your eyes on him the whole time. He can't stop swearing. Can't stop telling you how good you look like this, how perfect your mouth is, how lucky he is. "Birthday head's my favourite tradition," he groans, hand tightening in your hair.

You pull off with a wet pop. "I'm not finished."

His eyes go wide. "Oh my god."

Eventually, he pulls you off the floor, stumbling backward toward the bed with you wrapped around him. "I need to return the favour," he pants.

"I already-"

He flips you effortlessly, laying you down and settling between your thighs. "Shh," he says, cocky again now. "Birthday boy gets what he wants."

He eats you out like he's starving: licking, sucking, groaning into you. He fingers you at the same time, slow at first, then faster, curling just right.

"Come on," he urges. "Be good for me. Come on my tongue."

You do. Loudly. Twice. When he finally fucks you, he does it deep, slow at first, both of you messy with sweat and laughter and need.

"You feel so good," he whispers against your throat. "So fucking good."

His hand drifts to your chest, thumb brushing your nipple. The other grips your hip tight as he drives into you harder. "Gonna fill you up," he breathes. "Give you every last bit. Birthday gift for me."

You arch into him, legs shaking, mouth open on a moan.

"Go on, baby," he whispers. "Let me feel it."

You come again, this time with his name in mumbles, his hands holding you steady as he follows, groaning low into your neck as he fills you deep.

Later, you're tangled in the sheets, his chest rising and falling against yours. "So," he says, voice hoarse.

"Best birthday ever?"

He grins at you with flushed cheeks and messy curls. "Obviously," he say. "You came three times."

"And the rest of the day?" you asks. "Happy?"

LISTEN. You're not going to believe what just happened.

I was doing a track walk, right? Calm. Normal. Professional. And then I tripped over my own foot and nearly rolled into the gravel like a tortilla. In front of everyone.

Pierre saw. He is STILL laughing. I think he might actually be dying. Please tell him to stop. He won't listen to me.

Then my engineer said I walk like a baby deer learning to stand and honestly? I can't even be offended because he's right.

Anyway, I'm fine. My ego is not fine, but my body is.

mon cœur,

i hope you find this at a moment when the day hasn't had the chance to rush you yet. i wanted these words to greet you before anything else could, before emails, before calls, before the world starts asking things of you.

i want, just for a moment, to give something to you.

i've been thinking a lot lately about how you fit into my life. not in the dramatic sense, i don't believe love needs theatrics to be real, but in the quiet, dependable way that truly matters. you've become woven into my days without force, without disruption, just... naturally. gently.

beautifully.

you are the first person I want to talk to in the morning and the last person i want to hear from at night. not because i need you to fill silence or distract me from anything, but because your presence is something that steadies me.

you make me feel understood. not the driver, not the competitor, not the version of myself the world thinks it knows. me. simply me.

i love that i can be honest with you. that i can show you my stress, my doubts, my frustration, and you never shrink away. you meet all of it with calmness, with patience, with a softness that feels like safety.

and i love you for that. i love you for everything you are, the warmth you carry, the light you don't realise you bring into a room, the way your eyes soften when you look at me like i am something worth loving.

i am trying to be a man who deserves that look.

i love your laugh. i love your stubbornness; yes, even when it's directed at me. i love the way you reach for my hand when you're distracted, like it's instinct. i love the way you care for others without needing applause. i love the peace i feel when you rest your head on my chest, like the world could fall apart and i would still be anchored by you.

i don't know how to say it more elegantly, so i'll say it plainly:

i love you. deeply. patiently. without hesitation. in a way that grows stronger each day, even in the smallest moments.

you are the part of my life i never saw coming but now can't imagine living without.