love is just a word
a/n: ladies and gents... here it is! ‘love is just a word’ it was a concept that i literally came up with in the shower (#showerthoughts); and i can only thank @tiredbuthappy for fuelling my desires to write this. it WILL be a multi-part series so look forward to more updates! now be nice.. its only been four years since i last wrote a fic so i might be a little rusty. anywho, i hope you enjoy my little dabble in the f1 world. feel free to leave nice words or constructive feedback!! <3
2021 Bahrain: Pre-season testing
“Sorry Ms Y/L/N, we’re about to land soon, may I take your cup?” You nod at the stewardess and she quickly takes the empty teacup, stowing your tray table during the process. You push some button to get your seat upright, shuffling in place to get comfortable for the last hour of the flight. Looking out of the window, the sand covered city of Bahrain greets you. It’s been three years since you’ve been at a formula one race, and you can’t help but be excited. Motorsport is and has always been in your blood, no matter how far you try to stray from it. You’ve raced for Dakar with Carlos Sainz Senior, photographed hundreds of Indycar and Nascar races, but nothing will beat the thrill of formula one. Over the years, you’ve built a hefty portfolio for yourself in photography, travelling across countries to capture the most amazing sights and beautiful humans, but the euphoria of capturing a still image of a formula one car on track - that was life to you.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the city of Bahrain.”
Everything felt cinematic when you landed in Bahrain. You were greeted by friendly airport staff, and some formula one fans waiting by the arrival gate, hoping to get a glimpse of their favourite drivers. Once you were through immigration into the arrival hall, you unlock your phone, smiling when you see the message from your childhood best friend.
Chilli Sainz 🌶: come out to the pick up point, waiting here for you ;)
When the sliding doors open, you feel the last of the cool breeze hit your face like a refreshing splash of cold water. The transition between winter and spring in Bahrain was a balancing act between cool temperatures and sweltering heat, and you were glad to be greeted by the former. You’re scanning the row of cars before you hear a familiar voice call out to you.
“Y/N!” You turn to see Carlos standing beside a silver Ferrari, waving his hands wildly at you. As if his roaring Ferrari was not attracting enough attention. You’re shaking your head in embarrassment as you make your way to him, luggage in tow. He opens his arms and you hug him immediately, the familiar scent of Gucci guilty overwhelms your senses. He hasn’t changed his scent since you bought him this cologne for his 21st birthday.
“Its been awhile, Castaña.” you smile softly when he uses the nickname you grew up with. Chestnut. An ode to your younger self, always snacking on them whenever you had the chance to. Well, now that you were not so little anymore, little chestnut had evolved to just calling you chestnut. Only yours and Carlos’s family had the honour of calling you by that nickname, so to hear it in person after all these years of not seeing him, it made you feel a sense of warmth throughout your body.
“Thank you for inviting me to come, chilli.”
“Of course, there are only so many firsts you know.” You knew what he was referring to. It was pre-season testing in Bahrain, and also Carlos’ first year with Ferrari. Everything he’s ever dreamed of was suddenly coming true, with his hopes to be world champion suddenly closer within reach. And he had to have you there with him, even though it took a lot of convincing from yours and his family. You have been there for every one of his firsts - first race in a go-kart, first podium, first kiss and first formula one race; and he would be damned if you missed this first season out. You eventually gave in, one night on the phone with Reyes, Carlos’ mother. She pulled every trick she had from her sleeve, and by the end of the three-hour long conversation, she managed to get you to dedicate this year to Carlos’ first season with Ferrari.
He put your luggage in the boot, and opens the door to the passenger’s seat for you. You’re laughing at him, telling him to piss off before someone gets pictures and rumours fly about him cheating on Isabel. Carlos pulls an ugly face at you, closing the door and getting to the driver’s seat. It was a known fact to the fans and media, that you and Carlos were best friends, him mentioning you in an interview every once in awhile earlier in his career. Your presence in the paddock definitely faded over the years though, with Isa taking his side for the last three years; but being in the media industry, you knew the consequences of resurfacing again. Apart of you is afraid of the gossip, the attack from fans that your presence may distract him from racing, but you shook the thoughts out of your head temporarily, trying to enjoy this moment with your best friend. It wasn’t long before Carlos had music blaring through the speakers, both of you singing at the top of your lungs and laughing uncontrollably. You caught yourself staring at him for just a short moment, him swaying horribly to the song with a huge smile on his face. This is home.
Everything was already in place when you got to the hotel thanks to Carlos, just having to collect your room key and you had gone straight up to your room while Carlos attended a meeting with his team. When you get to your suite (also courtesy of Ferrari and Carlos), you immediately jump onto the bed, your feet and back thanking you for taking some pressure off after all that travelling. You’re about to roll over to unpack your bag, when you noticed in the corner of the room on the table, was a plate covered with a glass cloche and you immediately know what it is. A Mont Blanc. It was tradition, whenever you used to visit Carlos at races, he would get a Mont Blanc, or anything close to it and leave it in your room with a note. However, after the last race you attended and so many years in between, you didn’t think he’d continue with traditions, but it was Carlos we were talking about; and he never manages to disappoint. You take the glass dome off, a whiff of creamy chestnut aroma filling the air. A note was placed right next to the plate, with scrawly handwriting covering its surface,
For you, mi amor. I’m sorry for everything.
You sigh, placing the card back in it’s place. You knew you had to have the conversation with him some time during this season, but for now you were too tired to think about it.
The next morning, you walk into the paddock with Isa and Carlos, your arms linked with Isa as you made your way to the Ferrari building. But before you could walk any further than six feet, you heard a loud familiar Aussie accent from across the paddock.
“Oi! It’s little Carlolita!” His attempt at a Spanish accent was absolutely atrocious, and you’re once again shaking your head in embarrassment as everyone in the paddock turned to look at you. Daniel saunters towards the three of you and dives to embrace you in a hug first. He ruffles your hair in the process and you shriek, squirming your way out of his hold.
“Ahhh I actually did my hair this morning!” You smack him on the arm playfully. Daniel holds his arm pretending to be hurt, but laughs when he sees the pout on your face.
“Oh come on, this is how you greet me? Haven’t seen you in years!”
“I just saw you last month in New York!” you argue back but Daniel ignores you, greeting both Carlos and Isa with a hug.
“Alright, don’t flirt too much with my sister, Ricciardo.” Sister. The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Daniel shakes his head and goes on to ruffle your hair again, earning a painful pinch under his arm. He yelps in pain which makes the couple laugh, and they leave the both of you to your antics. You stick your tongue out at Daniel playfully as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. You and Daniel had gotten close in the last year when you moved to the states for work and so happened to be one of the photographers that Daniel hired for his Present Momentum collection. Months on end working together, you even helped him with some of the designs for his upcoming collections. It led to you opening up to him about many things, including the reason why they haven’t seen you around in the paddock for sometime. He bumps shoulders with you, eyebrows raised when he meets your eyes.
“Didn’t expect you to be in Bahrain,” he gestures to the bright red building, “and definitely did not expect you to be in this building. Is this why you rejected my paddock pass?” Daniel mocks you, earning another smack on his arm. You’re walking with him further away from the Ferrari building, waving at some of the mechanics you know from the past.
“Didn’t think I would be here either to be honest, it was a last minute decision.” You continue to walk down the stretch. He stops suddenly, causing you to turn and face him.
“Did you guys talk about it?” He asks. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you just shrug, “it’s been so many years, dan. Water’s already under the bridge.”
“Water under the bridge? I saw the way he looked at you, that water or river you’re talking about has a dam on it and you know it will explode soon.” What was Daniel talking about? The way he looked at you? You bump his shoulder and shake your head, deciding not to overthink it. Daniel raises his arms in surrender, already running off before delivering the line that he knows would kill him, “you know I’m always right!” You consider running after him just for fun but instead you stay put, not wanting to ruin your hair even further. He turns back to wave at you and you flip him off, making your way to the Ferrari building. It’s been years since the incident, and you’ve thoroughly moved on; but was it possible that Carlos was still in the same place?
Pre-season testing went as well as you could ever imagine, Ferrari having found a good amount of pace with the car. It was the last day of testing, and you were invited to dinner that evening with a couple of drivers from the grid and their girlfriends. It was no secret that you were a favourite in the paddock, knowing most of the younger drivers from go-karting during your childhood. And you knew that they had specially set this up so you could all catch up. You arrived at the restaurant that evening with Heidi and Daniel, them offering to pick you up from the hotel since Carlos was coming straight from the track with Isa. You’re walking the short stretch from valet, Heidi linking arms with you while Daniel trailed behind.
When you enter the restaurant, the table that was set in the center of the room was already filled with some drivers, and you’re glad to see the familiar faces.
“Y/N!” Charles rises from his seat to hug you first. It was then followed by Lando, George, and Alex, who all squeezed you tightly, complaining about how you have not been to any of the races the last couple of seasons.
“Alright, alright I hear your complaints,” you get them to simmer down, conversations start to fly across the table, the loud chatter of the drivers fill the restaurant. Carlos and Isa ended up arriving last, along with a driver whom you’ve never spoken to before but had seen perform exceptionally well - Pierre Gasly. He was introduced to the grid the year after the incident with Carlos, when you stopped coming to races. You had seen him a couple of times during your childhood, at F2 and 3 races, but never really spoke to him. He always kept to himself, only hanging out with Charles or the late Anthione. Carlos comes to greet you first, one kiss on the cheek before sitting down in the empty seat next to you, and you shake Pierre’s hand. He looked a little shy which was surprising for you, but you still give him a warm smile.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N. A childhood friend of Carlos”
“I’m Pierre. I've heard a lot about you.” He smiles softly before taking the only empty seat left at the table - next to Charles, but right across from you.
“Oooh I hope it's only good things!" You joke with him. Daniel pats you on the back, “Oh don’t worry darling, we’ve told all your embarrassing stories, especially the one where u peed in your go-kart.”
“I was only four!” You protest, sending the table into a laughing fit.
The dinner goes on and the table is as rowdy as it could get without you guys getting thrown out of the restaurant. With everyone trying to engage you in a conversation, laughing, shouting profanities. It looked chaotic from the outside, but this felt just like home to you. Growing up karting, you were always surrounded by boys, their ridiculous jokes and play fights; and this scene you were in definitely threw you back to better times. You couldn’t help but notice that Pierre was particularly quiet though, laughing and conversing mostly only with Charles. You’ve caught his eye a couple of times, smiling at him while you move on to another conversation. Towards the end of the dinner, you devoured your chocolate cake and watched as Pierre whispered something to Charles. A smirk formed across Charles face before you watched him whisper to Charlotte and she looks at you, grinning widely before whispering back to him.
“I’m right here! You guys are sneaking looks at me while talking about me, and I know it!” You say from across the table. The pair blatantly ignore you, with Charles leaning across the table towards Daniel. He leans forward, pushing your head back as you try to eavesdrop on the secret conversation. You’re shouting in protest until Daniel releases his hold, and you swear you want to claw him, but the look on his face tells you that you’re in for a ride. Either he has a joke he wants to make, or Daniel is about to embarrass you, big time. He’s now smirking at you, arms folded in front of his chest.
“So Y/N, are you single?” He asks. You roll your eyes at him because he knows the answer to the question. You’re picking at your chocolate cake, shoving some down your throat to ignore the stare from him and Charles. Besides Carlos, you were the closest to these two drivers as well, and they knew exactly what has or has not gone down in your love life.
“C’mon, tell us Y/N. We want to know.” Charles adds on and Daniel playfully bumps your shoulders. Your face turns a shade of pink and you look down at your almost empty plate.
“I am,” you mutter under your breath. Now, it was no big deal to admit that you were single. But when half the grid was at dinner, with most of them having their partners at the table, it maybe mattered a little. Daniel cleared his throat, “Good. There you have your answer, Pierre.” You watched as Pierre’s eyes widen, and it sent the table into cheers and whoops. You’re hiding your face into your hands while Pierre was trying not to die of embarrassment as he fiddled with the fork in his hand. His face turned bright red as he tried to avoid eye contact with you. Your gaze shifted to Carlos, whom you knew was always protective of you. And just like you thought, he dropped his fork to the table (though unnoticeable by the others), and his jaw tightened. He was always this way, scaring off your previous boyfriends, being the biggest cock block, and Pierre was not about to be an exception. You knew about Pierre’s reputation for being a fuckboy, it came with the title of being a fantastic driver. But in that moment, he seemed to turn so shy like a schoolboy confessing to his childhood crush. It was almost endearing, you weren’t going to lie, and he was really cute as well, so you shot him a flirty smile, subtle enough so he was the only one who would notice.
The night went on and everyone having a couple more drinks, this being their last hoorah before the season started. It was when they started to forget their last names when you decided to call it a night for all of them. You received some boos and complaints, but you’re quick to flip them off, muttering how they will thank you tomorrow morning when they wake up only with a mild headache. The drivers eventually obliged, each of them filing out of the restaurant into cabs. You were stumbling out of the restaurant last, with a very drunk Daniel looped around yours and Heidi’s neck, and he was bantering with you about how the earth is flat. You’re pushing him into a cab before you know it, “I’ll get someone to come get the car tomorrow morning, okay?” you try tell Heidi over Daniel’s yelling about the round-earthers being scammers. You’re not sure if she hears you, but you close the car door anyway and heave a sigh of relief. Carlos had left a lot earlier with Isa as she had an early flight out of Bahrain, so you were on your own. As you tried to call for a car to get back to the hotel, a tap on the shoulder made you jump, and you almost let out a shriek before turning around. Pierre was standing behind you, now smiling more confidently after a few drinks.
"My bad," he rubs the back of his neck. his other hand is in his pocket as he shifts his weight from front to back.
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t expect for you to still be here.” You straightened out your dress as you spoke to him.
“Yeah, neither did I, but Carlos told me to make sure you got home safe. So here I am.”
“And you listened to him?” It came out slightly more bitter than you intended, and Pierre raised his eyebrows.
“Sorry,” you shook your head, running fingers through your hair, “thank you, but I will get back fine on my own. You should head back, it’s getting late.” You turn back to your phone, tapping on the app to call a cab. But Pierre moves to stand next to you, and your hair stands when his shoulder touches yours. Why the heck are you getting nervous? It was silent between you for awhile, a small cheer from you when you managed to book a cab. You’re fiddling with your phone when Pierre breaks the silence.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he apologises, rubbing his hands together. You notice the rings on his fingers, eyes trailing up his body as he glowed under the street lamps. Stop checking him out, for fucks sake.
“No biggie, if there’s one thing I know, you can always count on Danny Ric to embarrass you.” Pierre nods, and an awkward silence falls between the two of you. You’re tapping your hands on your thigh, a nervous habit when you were found in uncomfortable situations. Pierre’s eyes meet yours first, and you could tell he’s also a little nervous with the question he’s about to ask.
“Can I take you out to dinner sometime? Or coffee- Charles said you like coffee.” There was confidence in the way he spoke, but it was also gentle, like he was walking on thin ice. He smiles at you and you see the hope glistening in his eyes. You’re ready to say yes but of course you decide to tease him a little.
“You asked Charles about me?” And his face turns pink immediately, eyes darting away from yours. You’re giggling now, resting a hand on his arm.
“Are you serious about taking me to dinner?” Pierre nods, his eyes finally meeting yours again.
“Then I would love to go out for dinner with you, Pierre.” He was now grinning widely, like a child on sugar rush, ready to explode. The happiness on his face makes you want to lay your lips on him, wild scenarios running through your head. Try to keep it PG13, Y/N.
To be honest, you’re surprised at how easily you agreed to go out with Pierre. Usually, you weren’t the type of girl to be so quick to say yes, but something about Pierre was drawing you to him. Was it the French charm? Or the fuckboy look? Either way you were enjoying this interaction. You exchange numbers with him, saving his with his name and a blue heart. You’re hiding the screen from him when he tries to peek, but what you didn’t know was that he also saved your name with a yellow heart. Why yellow you may ask? It represented sunshine and warmth, two things he felt when he walked into the room you were in.
When your car arrives, Pierre opens the door for you to get in. He’s about to close it, when you hold it open and look at him, “round two? kind of want this night to go on.” Pierre hesitates for awhile, he didn’t want to take advantage of you when you were intoxicated. He made a promise to himself earlier in the night when he saw everyone starting to get shit faced, that he was going to ask you out when both of you were sober. But now the first promise was already broken, and you were looking at him with such glassy eyes. Fuck it. So he complied, taking the taxi ride to your hotel with you.
Round two was not what Pierre had expected at all. You had invited him to your room, with many promises that you weren’t going to kidnap him for a million dollar ransom, before he stepped foot inside. You laid out some snacks you brought with you, and made some ginger tea for the both of you to sober up. It was your attempt at genuinely getting to know him, and Pierre was all for it. He saw that you weren’t like other girls, only wanting the sex and the title of “I fucked a formula one driver!” You were down to earth, feet planted on solid ground even when the riches of being in the motorsport industry surrounded you. And Pierre was hooked to that. You’re both laughing and talking about all things surrounding the sun; and you suddenly find yourself telling him about your childhood.
“You drove Dakar? That’s so cool!” He exclaims with a mouth full of chips; his pre-season diet completely thrown out of the window.
“Yeah, I was a co-driver for a couple of races when Carlos’ dad needed a last minute co-driver.” You go on to tell him more about your racing experiences, growing up around go-karts with Carlos and your own brothers. Pierre listens to you intensely, blue eyes wide with curiosity as you spoke about your photography experiences as well. When you catch yourself rambling, you quieten down a little, sipping on your now cold tea. Pierre can’t help but continue to stare at you, mesmerised by every inch of your face, body and personality.
“What are you looking at? Is there something on my face?”
“Yup,” You begin to wipe your face with a napkin, only for Pierre to follow up with a lame joke, “its just your eyes, nose and that beautiful smile of yours.” It was really corny, but you had to give it to him, only he could come up with a joke like that and still make you laugh. He goes on to tell you more about himself, the stories ranging from his family in Rouen, to racing in formula one. To be honest, half of what he told you you had already read online while sitting on the toilet at the restaurant, but you still gave him your fullest attention. He talked about Anthione and your hands rubbed comforting circles on his knees as he spoke about his best friend. Then he changes the topic, giving you a knowing look.
“How about you and Carlos?” You scrunch your nose at the mention of your best friend, and you know that Pierre was testing the waters. To him, Carlos was an unknown in the equation even though he was with Isa, Pierre has noticed the wandering looks that he gives you. You’re slightly mad that even after dominating your life for the last twenty-four years, Carlos could still squeeze his way through when he wasn’t in the room. You’re refilling some warm water into your mug as you answer Pierre, "I've known him for twenty-four years. Grown up with that cabrón." It was a short, to the point answer to drop the topic. Pierre nods understandingly and hands you another square of chocolate before his phone buzzed and a look of panic crosses his face.
Pyry: where are you?! you do remember we have training tomorrow right????
“Shit,” Pierre mutters under his breath. It was 230AM, and god knows he’s in for a lecture from Pyry about healthy sleep cycles.
“What’s wrong?” You’re popping another hot Cheeto into your mouth while Pierre rubs his face nervously.
“It’s just my trainer…he’s asking me where I am, I have training tomorrow.”
“Just tell him you’re at a sleepover.” Pierre is shocked at your confidence for a second, and you’re quick to swallow your words back, “oh no! I mean- if you don’t want to stay its fine, or we can cuddle, no sex yet.”
Yet???? You mentally face palm yourself when you hear the words fall out, and Pierre just smirks at you.
“Now I know you want to have sex with me.” His accent has grown a lot thicker as the night went on and not going to lie, you could be on your knees for him. But you shake the thoughts out of your head, packing up what’s left on the table, “Not tonight, cariño. Just tell him you’ll be at training tomorrow, I’ll make sure of it.” You wink at him and this sends shockwaves through Pierre’s system. He types a quick message back to Pyry, and follows you as you go into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When he slips in just as you’re about to close the door, your gaze meet his and you could very well give in in that moment. Hot, sweaty sex with a French formula one driver is every woman’s dream. But you don’t. You genuinely want to get to know him first for who he is, and sex seems to be secondary on your list right now. You let him push your hair behind your ear and he presses his forehead against yours. The tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife. You’re about to give in, just jumping his bones right there and then, when Pierre breaks your train of thoughts.
“Can I kiss you?” You nod, and he approaches you gently with a smile on his lips. Your insides are jumping with joy, every ounce of dopamine being released when your lips touch. His lips felt soft but filled with electricity, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. The next thing you know he has you pinned against the door and you’re making out, hands treading close to boundaries you both do not want to cross yet. Then suddenly you both stop, panting, overloaded with desire and lust. You speak first, tracing your fingers across his toned abs.
“I want to get to know you first, Pierre.” He nods understandingly as he came with the same intentions, but that doesn’t stop him from scooping you off the ground and straight to the bed. You squeal in delight when he drops you carefully onto the sheets. He tucks you under the blanket, planting a kiss on your forehead. Pierre's hovering above you and it's taking everything in you to not lunge at him like an animal. C’mon, keep it together. You watch as he gets off the bed, taking his shirt off. This was a show you could get used to.
"Can I- uh, is it okay if I sleep in my boxers?" You nod slowly, watching as he strips his jeans off his legs. Heat rises to your cheeks when he slips into bed and wraps and arm around you. You’re smiling stupidly again and you think about how for the first time with another man, your mind doesn’t flash back to that night, or to your best friend. It was just you in the moment with someone whom you know you were about to fall in love with.
A stream of warm sunlight is what wakes you up in the morning. You forgot momentarily about last night's happening and you're surprised to find Pierre sleeping in your bed, soft snores escaping his lips. He still has his arm draped securely over you, subconsciously pulling you closer whenever you turn away. Brushing your hand across his cheek, you cause him to stir a little and his eyes flutter open.
"G'morning chérie" His deep raspy voice causes butterflies to erupt again. You plant a kiss on his nose and he scrunches it, pulling you closer to him by your waist. He kisses you despite protests about morning breath and you’re giggling like a schoolgirl into the kiss.
"What time is it?" Pierre stretches, his arms flying to your face. You're swatting it away while turning on your phone, "just past seven, you'll make it."
“Good.” He mumbles into your collarbone, peppering kisses down your arm.
“Should I order us breakfast?” You’re pulling out the menu from the bedside drawer while Pierre still has his face buried, now into your stomach as you sit up in bed. He hums in response, and you proceed to order, trying your best to order foods that you think are essential for him during this pre-season. When you try to get up from bed, you’re forced back down by the weight of Pierre clinging to your side.
“C’mon, gotta get up or else you’re going to be late.” He’s whining from the lack of contact between the two of you, and then groans even louder when you pull the curtains open. You’re dragging him by the limb to get out of bed, and he finally concedes, pulling on a bathrobe after washing up. Breakfast arrives and time flies by as you both ate in comfortable silence, the occasional chat about some random topic. I could get used to this, you thought, refilling his coffee cup and earning a kiss on your temple. When the time comes for him to get to training, you could already see the sulk forming on his face. Pierre genuinely did not want to leave your side, and who could blame him? This was the first time he had enjoyed himself with a woman, and no sex was involved. You watch as he reluctantly slides his pants on from the night before and puts on his shirt. You’re both standing at the small entranceway of the room, your hand around his neck and his resting on your hips. You kiss him a couple of times and take him into a hug. When he pulls away, he has a cheeky look on his face.
“If there’s one thing I learnt, that look spells trouble.” Pierre raises his brows, and his fingers trace your jaw.
“How long are you going to be in Bahrain?” He presses his forehead against yours and you steal a couple more kisses from him.
“I’m flying home tomorrow.” You say, almost apologetically, “but I will be at every race this season.” you’re smirking now, watching as the disappointment on Pierre’s face turn into excitement. He kisses you a couple more times, squishing your face in his hands.
"Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”
"Like a proper dinner date?"
"Yes, like a proper date." He chuckles, pushing your hair out of your face.
“Of course you can.” Pierre picks you up immediately, spinning slowly to make sure he doesn’t hurt you in the small entryway. You’re squealing with excitement, laughing so loudly you’re sure the entire floor could hear you. His phone buzzes in his pocket when he puts you down, and he knows that’s his cue to leave.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.” He’s mumbling into the kiss and you’re nodding, lips not parting once as you open the door. You finally push him away, shoving the extra room key into his hand before he jogs down the corridor. When he turns to blow you a kiss right before he enters the lift, you swore you could hear your heart racing. God damn, this guy was good.
The door shuts and you're there smiling like an idiot leaning against it. This was bliss, exactly what it was like to fall in love - to be in your own bubble, protected from the outside world. However, one message was about to burst the safety bubble love so carefully created for you.
Chilli Sainz 🌶 : can we talk?
read part two here!