#I love this sports when I don't have to see Christian Horner being happy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vettelsdarling · 11 months

Note

can you please write a love triangle story between carlos sainz and charles leclerc? you could decide who she ends up with at the end

When I saw your eyes

➪This is a great prompt, I love a good love triangle!

➪This is my take on it, hope you enjoy!

Just a few things to note:

This is set in the 2022 season.

You’re 23 and the daughter of Christian and Beverly, so your biological sister is Olivia.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Horner!Fem!Reader (x Charles Leclerc)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of mature themes, daddy issues, angst

Word Count: 5.2k+

Backstory

You were a professional motorbike racer. You'd won three world championships in the sport and were racing for Red Bull. Your father, Christian was the team principal for the Red Bull Formula One team, so it only made sense for you to drive for them. After having competed so many times, you decided to announce your break. You took to Instagram to make a public statement about it. Many fans were supportive and not many were against your well-being and the fact that you were in need of some time away.

Your father had asked you several times to come visit him and Geri. You didn't really like Geri all that much. She was one of the main reasons your father and your mother split. Your mother had been pregnant and gave birth to your only real sister whilst your father decided to try and make it with the spice girl. You resented Geri for ruining what could have been a perfect family. Yet, since you didn't have anything to do, you decided to crash with them for a week.

“So Dad, what's going on in the Formula One world?” You asked as everyone was sitting at the table, eating a hearty breakfast.

“Oh, you know, just this and that. We're in the lead, so it's smooth sailing for now.” You were happy to hear that your father didn't have much to stress about. You remembered the times he told you he'd stay up all night to make calls for his drivers and mechanics. It could get tiring.

“Daddy, I think she should go watch the next race,” said Olivia with a smile. She had syrup on her lips from the waffle she was eating.

“That's not a bad idea, what do you think? Wouldn't it be something you'd like? You used to love attending the races in the garage with me when you were younger.” You were not that little girl anymore. Christian had a hard time understanding that fact and acknowledging it.

“Dad… You know I don't really have an interest in cars anymore.” You leaned back in your chair and took a bite out of a poppy seed bagel that you had spread a generous amount of cream cheese on.

“Of course, I know that. I just figured maybe you'd enjoy it. You know the struggle of G-force like these drivers,” he chuckled.

“Not like them. Definitely not. I don't experience much G-force. The highest is probably at 1.4. I don't think I've gone beyond that.”

“Either way, I think you should join me next weekend, yeah? It'll be fun.” You shrugged and checked your calendar to see if it was free. When you opened it, you saw that you'd made a note for the Isle of Man. It was extremely dangerous, but you sought the thrill. You were so used to the domestic side of racing, you wanted something that'd make your heart jump out of your chest. Under no circumstances could you admit it to your father though. He’d freak out. The Isle of Man was basically a Darwin award in itself.

“Um, I don't have time next week, actually.” Your father gave you a disappointed look for some reason.

“It's Monaco, it's a really big event. Several celebrities will attend.” Was it more important than your racing? You had to weigh your options first.

“I have an important event to attend. I can't go. You can take Olivia.” Before Christian could get a word in, you'd already left for your room. Even with all the love and respect you held for him, conversing was hard. That's why you decided to stay with your mother. When you moved out, you'd only ever invite her over. You didn't mind the occasional check-in from Christian, but it was tiring to talk face-to-face.

A week passed by quickly and you were on the Isle of Man with your motorbike. You knew just how dangerous it was, but you needed the chase. Your father was in Monaco, without a single clue as to what you were getting yourself into.

Without a second thought, you focused on yourself. It was time. The practice race began and you sped off. Your bike was the fastest, which wasn't much of a surprise. The island was beautiful. You loved it.

Days passed and the real race was approaching fast. You were beyond excited. The practice sessions had gone smoother than expected and you could only imagine the same for the actual thing. So when the day finally came, you gave it your all. The race started and your speed was dangerously unreal. It was clear to you how so many people had lost their lives in the previous races.

The race lasted a whole week and you ended up winning. It was everywhere in the news. Christian got a message from Geri about it. She'd sent him a link to a news article. He only saw it after the race was over, as he had to focus on watching the two Red Bulls on the grid.

When he saw the article he was fuming. He called you several times but nothing happened. You didn't pick up. It was for the sole reason of not wanting to listen to his lecture. However, after he didn't stop— you had to pick up.

“Hello? What the hell were you thinking?! Putting your life on the line like that! Are you insane?!” He spat. People started noticing.

“Dad, I'm alive. Besides, I won the race. Are you not proud of me?” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Isle of Man… It's a death wish. Why would you— I just… I don't get it.”

“I was so tired of not having that thrill I used to have… You must know. Surely you must. Look, I'll come to the next race. Let me know when and where. We can talk more then, okay? For now, I really have to go.” You quickly hung up before he was able to say anything else.

A lot of time passed and you decided to wait until the race after Montreal, as it was at Silverstone. You didn't have to travel far for that. When you parked your motorbike, you noticed a sleek Ferrari pulling up next to you. On your other side, a Volkswagen Golf pulled up. Your helmet was stuck for some reason, so to not look like a fool trying to take it off, you decided to keep it on.

“Hey, you! You know you can't park here, right?” You didn't pull up the shade. You didn't want the man to see you. He moved closer to you with his car keys dangling from his finger. The other man came up behind him. They were both wearing Ferrari shirts. They were definitely racing for Ferrari.

“Yeah, I can.” You put a hand on your hip and tapped your shoe to the asphalt.

“It's reserved for staff and drivers. Fans have to find parking elsewhere,” the other man spoke. He had a thick Spanish accent.

“Fan? I didn't come here because I actually wanted to.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My father.” Curt reply. You didn't want to carry on with the conversation, so you started walking away.

“That doesn't make sense.” The one with the heavy accent grabbed your shoulder.

“It does if you know who Christian Horner is.” With that, you started walking again. You assumed they were dumbfounded because they didn't follow you even though they were supposed to walk in the same direction.

When you got to the paddock, many people looked at you weirdly. You were wearing a helmet and a Red Bull race suit. You didn't have any other Red Bull clothes to represent them, so you chose whatever you had… Which was your race suit.

“There you are! What's with the getup?” Asked your father before opening the shade to your helmet.

“I didn't have anything else. My helmet is stuck by the way. You wouldn't mind helping me, would you?” He easily got it off and handed it back to you. You flung your hair to the side to avoid it being static.

“Now I think I deserve an explanation.” The two of you were standing in front of the Red Bull garage, which was right next to the Ferrari garage.

“I won. That's your explanation, okay?” You turned around to go find Max. You hadn't met him yet, but you'd heard great things about him.

“No, that's not good enough. You better explain right now.” He started raising his voice. This caught the attention of two sets of eyes from the next garage over.

“I have 3 world championships under my belt. It started boring me and I just wanted something different for a change. Is that really so bad?” You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“Yes, it is! It's the fucking Isle of Man!” He yelled. You were sure some of the mechanics were looking your way.

“Leave me alone, alright? I'm 23, I'm not a child. I can make my own rational decisions. I wouldn't have done it if I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it! Not only did I survive, I won! Besides, you're not in any actual position to take the role of a concerned father. You know that,” You returned the favour by yelling louder. Christian clenched his jaw and threw his arms up in the air. He left you alone to go cool off.

“Isle of Man? That's cool,” a voice snuck up behind you. It was the two guys from earlier. You weren't sure what to say. You knew your conversation had been loud, but you didn't actually expect anyone to be invested in it.

“Yeah? Thanks.”

“I'm Charles, and that's Carlos.” You examined their features. They weren't too bad-looking. You told them your name and shook both hands.

“So why didn't you choose to race in Formula One?” Carlos asked. The question wasn't hard at all. You'd always been a big fan of motorbikes.

“I was always into motorbikes. When I was a little girl, it was my dream to win a world championship in the MotoGP. My dream became a reality. Three times.” You said it as if becoming a three-time world champion wasn't a big thing.

“Three world titles… That's a great accomplishment, you know?” Charles smiled. You only looked at him briefly before turning your attention to your nails.

“I didn't know Christian had a daughter who raced,” Carlos chimed in.

“Well, he does. Aren't the two of you supposed to be getting ready? Leave me be, and go.” You were only stern because you were beyond uncomfortable and you'd just snapped at your father. The two Ferrari drivers left for their garage and you returned to Red Bull’s. Your father seemed to have calmed down a bit, likely due to the level-headed mindset he'd need for the race.

It wasn't long before the race started and people began whispering here and there whilst watching their screens intensely. You could hear the fans screaming outside as well. Certainly more overwhelming than your turf in motorsport. You'd already gotten a headache. There was still some time left for you to think about what to tell your father. Well, how to go about saying things.

When the race finally ended, a certain doom hit you. Everything had been said and done. The interviews were over and the celebrations had been held. A driver from Mercedes had generously offered to throw a small party, which you'd been extended an invite to. You'd graciously accepted it.

All you had to do first was talk to your father.

“Dad, it's not like I went in completely blind. I've studied it many times. More times than you know.” Geri was next to him, rubbing his forearm to try and calm his nerves.

“You realize seasoned racers have tried and failed before, right? Do you know what I mean by failed? Do you?!” He wasn't listening. He never was.

“Yes, but I didn't die! Fuck’s sake, I'm alive! I won! Maybe if you would've been more invested in my life, you would've seen the world champion in me earlier. It's okay though… You chose to throw me and mum away.” You chose to leave with those words, finishing strong but also not letting yourself get too carried away. It was your father after all…

You hurried out to your bike, hooking up your GPS to it. The Mercedes driver, Hamilton, had given you the address of the club and it wasn't too far away. You secured your helmet and jumped on, speeding off toward your destination.

The party was already lively. The first thing you did was take a seat by the bar. You wanted to get absolutely wasted and didn't plan on waking up with a clear head the following morning.

“Can I start a tab?” The bartender nodded, as he cleaned a tall glass.

“I'll just have a dry martini. Keep them coming.” Before he could ask for ID, you laid it out in front of him. It was your driver's license. All licenses were famous for looking like a prison sentence, but you'd come out surprisingly great in your photo.

“What are you doing all alone?” Someone took a seat right next to you. A gesture you'd normally find bothersome, but you didn't mind a little banter. Especially because you recognized the voice by its distinct accent and octave.

“I'm indulging in life’s luxuries,” you said with a sarcastic undertone. If a dry martini was considered a luxury, you could've died with no regrets years ago.

“Funny,” a voice came up behind you and took a seat on the other side of you. You were sandwiched between two Ferrari drivers. One had just won the Silverstone race. Congratulations were in order. You weren't a complete asshole.

“I guess I should say congrats on winning. I hear Silverstone is a big thing in Formula 1,” you said and popped an olive into your mouth. It oozed gin. Carlos wore a wide grin on his face. A grin you couldn't help but label attractive.

“Thank you. You look nice, by the way.” Carlos managed to smoothly wedge in that compliment. A faint chuckle snuck its way past your lips.

“What’s with the laughing? You’re gorgeous; Carlos is right.” You turned to look straight into the eyes of the famed heartthrob; Charles Leclerc. A smirk was plastered on his face. You couldn’t focus with the two guys smooth-talking you. The amount of attention that was put into you was unreal. Sure, you got a lot of that stuff whenever you raced, but it was nothing like this.

“I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” you said and finished your drink. The bartender immediately fixed you another one.

“I think you should come to more races whenever you can,” Carlos amused the idea and slung an arm around you.

“We’ll see,” you replied and downed yet another drink.

Present

“—And she’s done it again! She’s once again, champion of the world!” The crowd went wild. Many were in favour of you, as you were the only woman in the lineup. You were a four-time world champion. You could only hope Charles or Carlos had won the last race. You wouldn’t know until you were done, as it happened at the same time.

“How do you feel about your victory here today?” An interviewer quickly rushed up and asked. You’d done enough PR training to give a satisfactory answer,

“I mean, I feel amazing! The team, we pushed for it, and we got it, you know? I just want to thank my father and my wonderful team for this opportunity.” The interviewer thanked you and let you move on with your celebration.

You tried to get to your hotel as fast as possible so that you could see who’d won.

It took a while, but once you’d kicked your shoes off and sat at the kitchen island, you pulled up your Instagram to check out the standings.

“Damn… looks like Red Bull didn’t just win the MotoGP…” you sighed. Max had taken the championship yet again. You were proud of him, as a fellow Red Bull driver, but your heart ached for your Ferrari friends. At that moment, you decided to call Charles. Carlos rarely picked up his phone, and you knew Charles always would.

“Hey, I saw Max won… again,” you prefaced.

“Yeah, I know. It sucks, but what can you do? What a nice way to start a phone conversation!” You could tell he tried to seem upbeat and sarcastic after the loss, but it wasn’t sticking very well to the wall.

“Look, how about you and Carlos come visit me back in Brighton? I could show you around…” You suggested. There was some hesitation before you heard a voice in the background. It sounded like the phone was put down for a moment and you heard two people conversing. You assumed it was an engineer or something.

“I just talked to Carlos, he said he was free. We can talk more about it later.” He ended the call abruptly after, leaving you to get home and start planning.

Upon walking through your front door, you looked around your flat. Articles of clothing were strung around everywhere. It had been some time since you actually spent time at your own place. Your lifestyle was pretty much dependent on hotels and room service.

After spending some time cleaning, you noticed you'd gotten a text from Carlos. He asked if he and Charles were good to show up in two weeks' time. You replied with a simple ‘yeah’. You plopped yourself down on your leather sofa and started into the ceiling. You had a weird feeling in your chest. You couldn't quite put words on it. Texting and talking to Carlos made your heart pound faster. You'd known him for a while, and had felt things for him before, but never had you ever felt like your heart was being squeezed like a freshly pressed orange. You let your mind wander, and couldn't help but wonder if you had some repressed feelings for him. Carlos? No way. He's just a friend… Right? No matter how much you tried to rationalize your feelings, they didn't make sense. The more you thought about it, the faster your heart danced and generated butterflies swarming around in your stomach. You knew he'd been on your mind before, but never did those thoughts come on as strong as they were now. You'd always been able to make yourself busy, but now you couldn't. You were left to soak in it.

You decided to go out with one of your closest friends, Mia. There was nothing some drinking and dancing couldn't fix. Forgetting about the two drivers was all you needed for the night, even if it meant you'd puke your guts out the next morning.

“Are you kidding? A little crush? That's nothing. I don't even get why you're so worked up about that,” chuckled Mia and took a sip of her margarita.

“Fuck off, Mia, you've slept with half of Brighton at this point,” you rolled your eyes. She sighed and ordered you another drink.

“You should hook up with someone. We should definitely find you a good fuck.” She pulled out her phone to check what time it was, realizing the night was more than young. You had plenty of time to find the perfect guy to take home.

“I'm not you, I think I'll pass.” You could only imagine how awkward the sex would be. Being drunk would only make it harder to keep from screaming someone else's—

“Shut up. Two o'clock. Those two brunettes with those expensive watches. Ow, that's a steal for sure.” You didn't even bother looking their way. You chugged the rest of your drink and asked for another. The bartender was having a hard time deciding whether or not you were too wasted, but ultimately just gave you another round.

“Okay fine, you don't have to sleep with them… But you have to see them. They're everything I look for in a guy. Seriously.” You picked up your heavy head and turned in the direction she mentioned. What… The… Fuck? You were too far gone. Way too drunk, right? You were hallucinating. You saw the two people you were trying to keep out of your mind. They were standing in a corner, both holding a champagne flute.

“I swear I've had way too much to drink, Mia.” You shook your head and groaned, leaning into her neck.

“Hey, don't slouch. I'll just take you home, ‘kay? Jesus, and your dress. Tell me why you wore a long sleeve, please? You're sweating like a 30P hooker.” She helped you down from the barstool and the two of you started making your way to the exit.

Until you were stopped by none other than Carlos and Charles. Ugh. Your brain was mush and you didn't have the energy to think straight either.

“Woah, Horner. Is that you? What a coincidence,” Said Carlos.

“Not really. This bar is kind of exclusive— Um… You know her?” Mia held you tightly behind her.

“Oh, yeah we do. Do you need us to help?” Mia glanced at your wiped-out face and tried to ignore her inner monologue telling her to go back in and find someone to rock her world.

“Ummm… I'll tell you her address and door code, could you guys get her home safe?” She felt incredibly gutted, handing you over to the two handsome strangers. However, since they knew your last name— she figured they really did know you.

“Sure, we can do that. Have a great night,” Charles smiled and helped get you slumped over his shoulder instead of Mia’s. Your friend fixed her ponytail and kissed your forehead before heading back to the bar.

There you were. Left with the two Ferrari drivers, having to pull over a cab. You were far too wasted to realize what was going on, but you noticed the two men sitting on either side of you. Your heart felt fuzzy all over again, knowing Carlos was right next to you. It was the same feeling you'd desperately tried to escape a couple of hours ago.

“Why me… Why does the world hate me like this,” you slurred some of the words together, but you were coherent enough to understand.

“You should probably wait until we're home to go on a rant…” Charles suggested. You groaned and let your head fall onto his lap. You quickly dozed off from there…

What you didn't know was that Charles and Carlos had been feuding for a while. Even costing some wins in their races. They'd both been completely and irreversibly head over heels for you. They still were. It wasn't like their friendship was lost, but there was a slight tension whenever they were alone.

You'd been completely oblivious to it, but it started after you began attending more of their races. Carlos had made it a habit to stalk your Instagram page and Charles kept himself updated as well. The two of them tried to do whatever they could to impress you, but seeing as you never picked up on the cues; their attempts at flattery died down. You were always too consumed with work and family issues to ever notice how they were chasing you for your attention. It only got worse after the two of them realized they both liked you. It didn't matter though, because you still saw everything as friendly gestures. You'd never been in a real relationship. The only sort of intimacy you'd experienced was from overly flirtatious men who tried to get in your pants at parties or when you went drinking with friends.

After a few months went by of aimlessly trying to win you over, Carlos tried to get over you. He did whatever he could to ignore your texts and phone calls. Charles never seemed to back down though. He kept making himself look better than Carlos. It was around the same time you started feeling funny whenever you were around the Spaniard. You buried the feeling, convincing yourself that it was nothing. It was easy. You scheduled meetings and interviews on weekends you didn't race and occupied yourself with training during the week.

Being a child of divorce had always been hard on you. You were a commitment-phobe. Your view on romance was skewed and you could only blame your father. You held a special place in your heart for him, but the way he treated your mother after she'd given birth to your sister was unforgivable. Your mother had been such a big part of his life, and he was able to cast her aside for a new woman. That's why casual hookups were your jam. No commitments and no broken hearts. It was a win-win.

Carlos knew about your problems. You'd talked about it briefly, but he listened to every little detail you shared. He knew how hard it had hit you. That was another reason he used to justify ignoring you. Back then, you only took it as him being busy, which made him feel less guilty for doing it, though he still felt like an asshole.

“Mate, I think we should let her decide for herself. We shouldn't keep fighting like this. I mean how did we go from giving each other a helping hand on the grid— to threatening each other?” Charles whispered somewhat aggressively.

“I don't know, Charles. You're the one who suggested we fly out here immediately after we finished our race. Why wouldn't I fight for her?” Carlos shot back.

“Maybe because there's a chance she likes me and not you?” The whispering started getting louder, but you were out cold. They didn't really have anything to worry about.

“Let's just wait for her to wake up, okay? I don't want to argue with you right now. We'll wake her.” Carlos was definitely the more civil of the two, but he did have an aggressive edge when he needed to.

The morning came too soon, and you woke up with no memory of the night before. Your head felt like it was being crushed by a tank. You generally felt like you'd just been hit by a freight train. The sun made matters worse, blinding you and increasing the headache you already felt enough of. You decided to drag yourself to your kitchen to make yourself a hangover cure. It consisted of two raw eggs. You hated everything about it, but it had worked wonders in the past.

“Good morning.” You almost choked on your eggs as a voice came from behind you. Upon turning around, you were met with the gentle face of Carlos. He looked as if he had just got out of bed as well.

“Shit, don't scare me like that. What are you doing here? What's going on? How are you even here right now?” You felt like your line of questioning was leaning on the calmer side, but it was to keep the contents of your stomach down.

“We came here yesterday, actually. We were at the same bar as you. You were really drunk, so we took you home. Your friend gave us the address.” You couldn't help but groan. This caused Charles to make an appearance as well.

“Great…” you managed to hear Carlos mumble.

“Morning Horner,” Charles added a wink to his greeting. Which, in their own little world, meant that he'd one-upped Carlos.

“I'm sorry, I really can't make sense of this right now… Could you guys give me some time to process what's going on?” You sighed and went to your bedroom which connected to your closet. You pulled out whatever you could find and threw it on— returning to the kitchen where the two Ferrari drivers were sitting by the island.

“Okay, explain.” You sat across from them.

“I'm sure Charles would like to explain,” Carlos took a jab at the Monégasque.

“Well, we figured we'd just fly in directly after the race… So we did,” Charles started.

“I think we should cut to the chase. Both of us are… Um… Interested in you.” You liked the straightforward answer but weren't quite sure what Carlos meant by it.

“Ever since I met you, mon chéri, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Carlos apparently feels the same way. I just… I really like you.” It took a few seconds to sink in before you were able to give a proper response.

“Wait… What? You…” You pointed at Charles,

“—And you?! both?!” You finished off by pointing at Carlos and then at both.

“Charles… Can you leave me and Carlos for a moment?” You asked and were immediately met with a look of shock from Charles. His face melted into something more melancholic shortly after, but he went off to another room.

There you were. There Carlos was. His morning hair and sweet face. Your nausea was replaced by a tingling feeling. You felt it travel down your spine and to all your nerve endings. The amount of blood pumping through your veins was alarming. You could feel it in your throat. Was the room getting hotter?

“So… Charles said you have feelings for me,” you started. Your eyes met his, as he tried to think of what to say. He couldn't be sure whether or not you felt the same way, but a strike of confidence was added when you asked Charles to leave.

“I do. It has been a long time since I felt this way about anyone. You know the day I first saw you? I couldn't believe it when I saw your eyes after you got the helmet off. It looked like my whole life was reflected in them. You're beautiful. More than that. I can't even find the right words. I know Charles is more charming and open—” You cut him off. You couldn't help it. You had to.

“I love Charles. I love him, but not in the way I think he wants me to. He's sweet and you're right; he's charming, but you're you. As much as it pains me to hurt him, his feelings for me are one-sided, Carlos. I've liked you for a while now. I was just too blinded by work and not wanting to commit. I feel like an idiot around you…” Finally getting those words off your chest put you at ease. Even more so was the fact that Carlos shared the feelings.

“I would love to take you out sometime… If you know any good spots here.”

“Maybe we should settle things with Charles first, but I would love to.” You chuckled and pulled his face in for a kiss on the cheek.

“Can I kiss you? Like actually kiss—” You were starting to enjoy cutting him off, and the perfect way to do it this time was exactly what he wanted; a sweet kiss.

“Wow, I'm lucky.” He whispered.

“That you are,” you smiled and pulled him in for another, knowing you'd have to break the news to Charles somehow.

(Maybe to be continued...)

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

234 notes · View notes