#monte carlo cocktail

[crownedstoat]

Cold and frosty tonight’s libation is a Monte Carlo cocktail.

2 oz Old Tub BIB bourbon

1/2 oz Benedictine

2 dashes Angostura bitters

Built in the glass with ice and garnished with an orange peel because sometimes you are out of lemons.

[thatcoylookback]

The Monte Carlo cocktail is similar to a Manhattan, but Benedictine replaces sweet vermouth and Peychaud's bitters replaces Angostura.

[easternbloc1985]

Cocktail - Monte Carlo Cocktail The Monte Carlo cocktail is similar to a Manhattan, but Benedictine replaces sweet vermouth and Peychaud's bitters replaces Angostura.

[acocktailmoment]

Monte Carlo !

Ingredients:

2.25 oz. rye whiskey

0.5 oz. Bénédictine

2 dashes Angostura bitters

Method:

Stir on ice in a rocks glass, the bigger the ice, the better. Garnish with a lemon peel. Sip slowly, and enjoy.

Photo : geckophotos

This article was not sponsored or supported by a third-party. A Cocktail Moment is not affiliated with any individuals or companies depicted here.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Birthday Sex in Monaco | LN4

♥️ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N's parents take her to Monaco for her birthday. On her second day there, she meets Lando Norris, an F1 driver. Things escalate quickly as the chemistry between them grows.

♥️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

♥️ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.2k

♥️ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, unprotected sex, p in v, oral sex (f and m receiving), rough sex, multiple orgasms

Based on this request.

“So, do you always flirt with strangers in Monaco, or am I just special?” Y/N tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned against the bar. The warmth of the Monaco evening wrapped around them, the sound of the Mediterranean lapping against the harbor in the distance.

Lando raised an eyebrow, his blue-green eyes glinting with amusement under the soft glow of the bar lights. He swirled the drink in his hand, the ice clinking against the glass. “Oh, you’re definitely special,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “But I wouldn’t call you a stranger. I’ve been watching you all evening.”

She laughed, the sound light and carefree, and it caught him off guard. Most people he met were eager to impress him, but Y/N? She didn’t seem to care who he was. And that intrigued him more than he cared to admit. “Watching me? Creepy much?” she teased, taking a sip of her cocktail.

“Not creepy,” he countered, leaning in slightly, his forearm brushing against hers on the bar. “Just…observant.”

The spark between them was undeniable, and Y/N could feel it—every word, every glance, every brush of his hand against hers sent a jolt of electricity through her. But she wasn’t about to let him win this easily. “Observant, huh? So, what have you observed, Mr. Formula One Driver?”

He grinned, the dimple on his cheek making an appearance. “Well, for starters, you’re not from around here. Your accent gives you away.”

“Wow, Sherlock,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “Next, you’re gonna tell me what I had for breakfast.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Croissant, right? You strike me as a croissant kind of girl.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Okay, that was actually kind of impressive.”

Lando shrugged, a smug smile on his face. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, the teasing banter laced with an undercurrent of something neither of them had expected. Y/N found herself drawn to him—not because of his fame or his looks, though those certainly didn’t hurt—but because of the way he made her laugh, the way he listened to her, the way he seemed genuinely interested in her.

---

It had been her second day in Monte Carlo, and Y/N was already captivated by the city. Her parents had wanted to treat her to a lavish vacation for her birthday, and Monaco had been at the top of their list. She’d spent the day wandering the cobblestone streets, marveling at the yachts in the harbor, and indulging in the decadent food. But it wasn’t until that evening, when she’d wandered into a chic bar, that her trip took an unexpected turn.

She’d recognized him immediately—how could she not? Lando Norris, the Formula One driver, was practically a household name. But she hadn’t expected him to approach her, let alone strike up a conversation. Yet there he was, sliding into the seat beside her at the bar, flashing her that boyish grin and asking her name.

They’d talked for hours, the conversation never faltering. He’d told her about his life on the track, the thrill of racing, the pressure of being in the spotlight. She’d shared snippets of her own life.  And now, here they were, the chemistry between them undeniable, the teasing banter turning flirtatious.

“So, it’s your birthday, huh?” Lando asked, his tone softening as he leaned in closer.

Y/N nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“You mentioned it earlier,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. “I was wondering…if you’re not busy, maybe you’d let me take you somewhere? As a birthday surprise.”

She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Is this really happening? She’d never been one for spontaneous decisions, but there was something about Lando that made her want to throw caution to the wind.

“Okay,” she said finally, a smile spreading across her face. “But it better be a good surprise.”

He grinned, standing and offering her his hand. “Oh, it will be.”

---

The apartment was breathtaking, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the city and the sea beyond. Y/N stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat as she took it all in. “Wow,” she murmured, turning to look at Lando. “This is…incredible.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind them. “Glad you like it.” He moved closer, his eyes darkening with something she couldn’t quite place. “So, how’s your birthday so far?”

She smiled, her pulse quickening as he stepped into her space. “It’s been…unexpected. But in a good way.”

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I’m about to make it even better.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, soft and insistent, and everything else faded away. The kiss was electric, sending shivers down her spine as his hands came up to cradle her face. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his dark curls as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

He pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her lips. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “You know that, right?”

She laughed breathlessly, her heart racing. “You’re not so bad yourself, Norris.”

He grinned, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, Y/N…you have no idea what you’re in for.”

And then he was kissing her again, deeper this time, his hands roaming over her body with a hunger that left her breathless. She gasped as he lifted her onto the counter, his lips trailing down her neck as his hands found the hem of her dress.

“Lando,” she breathed, her head falling back as his teeth grazed her skin.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s your birthday. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

She looked at him, her eyes dark with desire. “I want you.”

His grin widened, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good. Because you’re about to have the best birthday of your life.”

Lando’s lips crashed into hers again, hot and demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. His hands roamed her body, sliding down her back and gripping her waist, pulling her closer. She arched into him, her breath hitching as his kiss deepened, his tongue tangling with hers in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. He broke away just enough to trail his lips down her jawline, his breath warm against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below her ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to her shoulders where the thin straps of her dress rested. He hooked his fingers under them and slowly pulled them down, letting the fabric pool at her waist. She inhaled sharply as the cool air hit her bare skin, her nipples hardening under his gaze.

His eyes darkened as he took her in, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. “Perfect,” he said, almost to himself, before leaning down to flick his tongue over one nipple. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked and licked, his mouth hot and insistent.

“Lando,” she moaned, her head falling back as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. His hands kept her steady, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he was memorizing every inch of her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet completely safe in his arms.

He pulled back slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. “Want more?”

Her only response was a breathless nod, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made her stomach flip, before scooping her up in his arms. She let out a surprised laugh, clutching his shoulders as he carried her to the living room.

He set her down gently on the plush sofa, his eyes never leaving hers as he knelt between her legs. His hands gripped the hem of her dress, and in one smooth motion, he pulled it off, leaving her in nothing but her black lace thong. She felt a flush of heat spread through her body as his gaze roamed over her, his expression a mix of hunger and admiration.

“You’re… fucking stunning,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her thong and tugged it down her legs, tossing it aside. Now completely bare, she felt a thrill of anticipation as he leaned in, his breath warm against her inner thigh.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Relax,” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin as he moved closer. And then his mouth was on her, hot and wet, his tongue exploring every fold and curve. She let out a moan, her hands flying to his hair, not pulling, just holding on as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

He licked and sucked with an intensity that left her gasping, his tongue flicking over her clit in maddening circles. She arched off the sofa, her hips moving instinctively against his mouth. “Oh god,” she cried, her fingers tightening in his hair as he worked her with relentless focus.

She looked down, her breath hitching at the sight of him between her legs, his dark curls brushing her thighs, his blue-green eyes looking up at her with a fierce determination. “You taste fucking incredible,” he growled, the vibrations of his voice sending jolts of pleasure through her.

Her other hand wandered to her breast, her fingers teasing her nipple as she watched him. His eyes darkened further, his rhythm faltering for a moment as he saw what she was doing. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained.

She smirked, her own confidence growing as she saw the effect she had on him. “Like what you see?” she teased, her voice breathy but laced with playfulness.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he increased the pressure of his tongue, his lips closing around her clit as he sucked gently. She cried out, her back arching off the sofa, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hips bucking against his mouth as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. She felt herself teetering on the edge, her entire body trembling with anticipation.

“Come for me,” he whispered against her, his voice low and commanding. And just like that, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her in waves of pure ecstasy. She cried out his name, her body convulsing as he continued to work her through it, until every last tremor subsided.

She collapsed back onto the sofa, her chest heaving, her limbs feeling like jelly. Lando looked up at her, his lips glistening, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Happy birthday,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief.

She laughed breathlessly, her hand reaching out to brush a curl from his forehead. “You’re incredible,” she murmured, her voice still shaky.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, climbing up to kneel over her. His hands braced on either side of her head, his face inches from hers. “But we’re just getting started.”

Lando’s smirk deepened as he hovered over her, his eyes dark with desire. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I was planning to make this night unforgettable for you, but I think you’re the one who’s making it unforgettable for me.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, her fingers tracing the planes of his chest. “Oh, really? And here I thought you’d be used to this kind of thing by now.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear. “Trust me, sweetheart, I’m not used to someone like you.”

Her breath hitched, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right girl.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “But I think I have now.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she wasn’t about to let him have the last word. “Well, maybe you should prove that to me.”

His eyes flickered with amusement and something deeper, more primal. “Oh, I intend to,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But first, I want to see what that pretty little mouth of yours can do.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Is that so? And what makes you think I’d want to do that?”

His laughter was low, almost predatory. “Because I saw the way you were looking at me earlier. You want this just as much as I do.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Her gaze dropped to his lips, then lower, to where his arousal was pressing against her. She bit her lip, her heart racing. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But only because it’s my birthday.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding down her sides as he shifted to sit back on the sofa. His eyes never left hers, dark and full of promise. “Now, show me what you’ve got.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly got to her knees in front of him. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head. The sight of his bare chest, the way his muscles rippled as he moved, made her mouth go dry. She dropped the shirt to the floor, her hands moving to the waistband of his trousers. She undid the button and zipper, her fingers brushing against the hard length of him through the fabric of his boxers.

Lando’s breath hitched, and he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the sofa. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

She smirked, pulling his trousers down and tossing them aside. Then, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, slowly sliding them down until his hard, thick cock sprang free. Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth watering at the sight of him. He was bigger than she’d imagined, and the way he twitched as she reached for him made her pulse race.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice rough with need.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her fingers wrapping around his shaft. “I might need a moment to adjust.”

He chuckled, but it quickly turned into a groan as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. She licked her lips, tasting the salty pre-cum that had gathered there. His hands tightened on the edge of the sofa, his hips bucking slightly as she licked a slow, deliberate stripe from the base to the tip.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

She smirked, her tongue swirling around the head before taking him into her mouth. His groan was deep, his head falling back as she started to move, her lips sliding down his length. She took him as far as she could, her hand working the base as she sucked him off. The feel of him in her mouth, the way he filled her, sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

He reached down, his fingers tangling in her hair as he guided her movements. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “Just like that. You’re doing so fucking good.”

His words sent a thrill through her, and she moaned around him, the vibrations making him groan. She pulled back, swirling her tongue around the head before taking him deep again. She could feel him getting harder, hotter, and she knew he was close. She reached down, her fingers brushing against his balls, and he let out a strangled cry.

“Fuck, Y/N, stop,” he gasped, his hands gripping her shoulders. ‘’I’m going to cum, and I want to feel you cum on my cock first.’’

She pulled back, licking her lips as she looked up at him. “You sure?” she teased, her voice husky.

“Positive,” he growled, pulling her up and onto his lap. She straddled him, her hands on his shoulders as she positioned herself over him. He gripped his cock, guiding it to her entrance as she lowered herself onto him. She gasped as he filled her, the stretch and fullness taking her breath away.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“So do you,” he muttered, his hands gripping her hips as she started to move. She rocked against him, her movements slow and deliberate, her breath hitching with every thrust. 

“Fuck,” Lando groaned, his hands gripping her hips as she was  moving, her body rocking against his in a rhythm that had them both moaning. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N. So tight, so wet for me.”

She whimpered, her hands braced on his shoulders as she rode him, her body moving in time with his thrusts. “Lando,” she gasped, her head falling back as he hit a spot deep inside her that had her seeing stars. “Oh my God, just like that.”

Her tits bounced with each movement, and Lando’s eyes were drawn to them. His hands moved to cup them, fingers teasing and pinching her nipples as she moaned, her body trembling with pleasure.

“Your tits are fucking perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough with arousal. “I could play with them all day.”

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he growled, his gaze dark with desire as he watched her. “The way you move, the way you feel around me—I could fuck you like this forever.”

His hands cupped her breasts more firmly as she rode him. Leaning in, he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it until she let out a loud moan.

“Lando,” she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good,” he murmured, switching to her other nipple. “Because I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

She moaned, her movements becoming more erratic as he continued to tease her. She could feel the tension building inside her, her orgasm looming just out of reach. She was so close, so fucking close, and she could tell he was too.

She moaned, her head falling back as his fingers teased her nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through her. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice filled with need. “Fuck me harder.”

He growled, his hands moving to her hips as he began to thrust up into her, his movements harder, faster. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt him hit that sweet spot inside her.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, his voice filled with a primal need. “Take it. Take every fucking inch of me.”

She moaned, her hips moving in time with his as they fell into a rhythm that was all consuming. She could feel her orgasm building, the pleasure coiling deep inside her as he thrust into her again and again.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. “Let me feel you.”

She cried out, her second orgasm crashing over her as she tightened around him, her body convulsing with pleasure. He groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he felt her clenching around him.

But he wasn’t done. As soon as she started to come down, his hands tightened around her hips, lifting her effortlessly from the couch, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he stood. Her breath caught, feeling him still buried deep inside her, the weight of him stretching her, filling her in the most delicious way. “Hold on,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, the rasp sending a shiver down her spine.

He lowered her onto the sofa, her back sinking into the plush cushions as he laid her down with a gentleness that contrasted the wild hunger in his eyes. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he settled between her thighs, his hips already finding their rhythm again.

'You’re mine,' he muttered, his voice rough with possession, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her hard, the force of it making her cry out.

Her head fell back, her moans spilling freely as he pounded into her, the pace relentless, every stroke hitting that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling, her body arching to meet his as he took her with a hunger that left her breathless.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his forehead pressed against hers. “You’re so fucking tight. I can’t—”

Lando’s thrusts grew harder, more urgent, each one driving deeper into her, claiming her in a way that made her gasp and arch into him. He reached for her wrists, pinning them to her stomach as her chest heaved with each powerful thrust. “Look at you,” he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her tits bounce with the rhythm of their bodies slamming together. “So fucking perfect.”

She could feel every inch of him, every ridge and pulse of his cock as he fucked her with a raw, unrelenting intensity.

“Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and rough, “you feel fucking incredible. So fucking tight around me.”

Her breath hitched, the sound of his words sending a shiver down her spine. She could feel the heat building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. She loved the way he took control, the way he gave her no choice but to surrender to the pleasure.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice trembling as her hips rocked to meet his. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He smirked, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Didn’t plan on it, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Not until you cum for me again.”

His words sent a rush of wetness between her thighs, her body responding to him like he was the only thing that mattered. She could feel the tension building again, the pressure growing until it was almost unbearable.

Lando’s thrusts grew faster, harder, his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. She gasped, her nails digging into her own skin as she tried to hold on.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl. “Cum for me, Y/N. Let me feel you.”

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her third orgasm crashed over her, her body convulsing as she cried out his name. Her pussy clenched around him, pulling him deeper as wave after wave of pleasure tore through her.

Lando groaned, his hips stuttering as he felt her cum around him. “Fuck, baby,” he panted, his forehead pressed against hers. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

He kept thrusting, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling beneath him, her body spent but still craving more.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I need you. Please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a deep groan, he pulled out of her, his cock slick with her arousal. He gripped himself, stroking quickly as he looked down at her, his eyes burning with need.

“Where do you want it, baby?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint.

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering down to her chest. “On me,” she breathed, her voice shaking. “Please, Lando.”

He groaned, his hand moving faster as he let out a low curse. “Fuck, Y/N,” he panted, his hips jerking as he came. Thick ropes of cum shot onto her tits, hot and sticky against her skin.

She moaned at the sight, her body trembling as she watched him. He looked so beautiful like this, his face twisted with pleasure, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Lando’s eyes met hers, a lazy smile spreading across his lips as he leaned down, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. His hand slid up her stomach, his fingers brushing against the cum he’d left on her skin.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

She smiled, her heart swelling at his words. “Good,” she teased, her voice soft but playful. “Because I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm as he kissed her again, his lips soft and lingering against hers. She could feel the warmth of his body pressed against her, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice tender as he pulled back to look at her. “I hope I’m making it one to remember.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice sending a rush of warmth through her. “You are,” she admitted, her voice soft but honest. “More than I could’ve imagined.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Charmed in Monte Carlo

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: During a solo vacation to Monaco, Y/n's evening at the Monte Carlo Casino takes an unexpected turn when a mysterious flirtation leads to a charming and playful encounter

______________________________________________________________

Y/n had been planning this solo trip to Monaco for years. No one had ever been available to join her, but this time, she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She booked the trip, packed her suitcase with the finest summer outfits, and hopped on a plane to the luxurious city she had long dreamed of.

When she arrived, the bright Mediterranean sun greeted her, casting a golden hue over the pristine streets and sparkling water. Y/n immediately felt at peace, like she’d made the right decision to come here on her own. The first few days passed in a blissful blur of exploration. She strolled through Monaco's elegant boulevards, shopped at chic boutiques, dined in gourmet restaurants, and sat at sun-soaked cafés, content to people-watch as life unfolded around her.

Each café stop became its own little adventure. She sipped espresso in Le Café de Paris while tourists flocked to the nearby casino, and at a quieter spot near Port Hercules, she watched as yachts sailed in, glittering against the sapphire waters. She couldn’t help but imagine the lives of the people who owned them—what their stories were, how they spent their days. There was something about Monaco, the intersection of old-world charm and modern luxury, that felt intoxicating.

On her fourth evening in Monaco, she decided to visit the famous Monte Carlo Casino, the ultimate symbol of the city’s elegance and charm. This was the part of the trip she had been most excited about. She wanted to experience the casino’s history, glamour, and its opulence firsthand, even if she wasn’t much of a gambler.

Dressed in a sleek, fitted black dress with a plunging neckline that showed off just enough to be intriguing, she felt a surge of confidence. She paired it with strappy heels and a bold red lip, knowing she looked good but not caring if anyone else noticed. This trip was for her, after all.

The casino’s entrance was grand, with an air of exclusivity, but Y/n walked in as if she belonged there. Inside, the crystal chandeliers sparkled like diamonds, and the floor was abuzz with the sound of laughter, the clatter of chips, and the whirl of roulette wheels. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, taking in the sight of it all. The grandeur was even more overwhelming than she had imagined.

Not wanting to jump straight into the gaming tables, she headed to the bar and ordered a cocktail—a French 75 to match the elegance of the night. She found a spot by the side, leaning against a pillar, the perfect vantage point to indulge in her favorite pastime: people-watching. From her spot, she observed glamorous couples dressed to the nines, elegant women draped in couture, and men in sharp tuxedos throwing around bets like they were nothing. It was fascinating.

"Looks like someone’s lost in thought," a smooth, amused voice said from behind her, startling her slightly. She didn’t turn around, deciding to play along.

"Is it that obvious?" she replied, taking another sip of her drink, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"Only because you’re doing that classic lean against the pillar, drink in hand, gazing out like you’re in a Bond film," the voice continued, warm and teasing. "All you’re missing is a tuxedoed guy with a bad poker hand."

Y/n chuckled, keeping her gaze fixed ahead. "Are you volunteering for the role?"

There was a brief pause, then the man behind her laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "Not unless you’re looking for someone to dramatically lose all his money at blackjack. Though, I’m better company than most Bond villains."

"Confident, aren’t we?" she mused, entertained by his playful banter but still not turning to face him.

"Confidence is key, or so they say," he responded smoothly. "Besides, I couldn’t help but notice you standing here, looking like you belong in a movie yourself."

Y/n raised her glass to her lips, hiding her smile. Whoever this was, he was good—too good. The kind of flirtation that felt practiced but was enjoyable nonetheless. "A movie, huh? Does that mean you’re the mysterious stranger who makes me an offer I can’t refuse?"

"Something like that," the voice agreed, now sounding closer, almost as if he’d shifted behind her. "Though, I’d settle for a laugh and your company over a drink."

"Well, you’ve managed to get me to laugh already," Y/n replied, feeling a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with her drink. She glanced sideways but still didn’t turn around, enjoying the anonymity of their conversation.

"I’d call that a win," he said, clearly smiling now. "Do I get a bonus if I keep you laughing?"

"Maybe," she teased. "But it depends on how good you are at keeping the mystery alive."

"Oh, I’m very good at keeping secrets," he said, his tone dropping playfully. "But I’ll let you in on one: I’m not usually this charming. I’m just trying to impress the most captivating person in the room."

Y/n snorted softly. "You’re laying it on thick now."

"Hey, if it works, I won’t apologize."

They went back and forth like that, the conversation flowing so naturally it felt like they’d known each other for ages. Y/n was curious but also didn’t want to break the spell by turning around. Whoever he was, he was making her laugh, and she liked the mystery of it all.

Eventually, though, her curiosity got the better of her. After yet another playful jab from the man behind her, she finally turned around, ready to face the charming stranger.

Her breath hitched when she saw who it was.

"Lando Norris?" she blurted, her eyes widening in disbelief.

The British Formula 1 driver stood there, leaning casually against the bar, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "In the flesh," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You weren’t expecting me, were you?"

Y/n stared for a second, still processing the fact that one of the most famous young drivers in the world had been flirting with her for the past ten minutes. "I… definitely wasn’t," she admitted, her surprise morphing into laughter.

"Well, I’m glad I could provide some shock value," Lando teased, clearly enjoying her reaction. "But if it helps, I was enjoying being the mysterious guy behind you. You know, no fame, no racing cars—just a guy in a casino."

She shook her head, still smiling. "And here I thought I was just talking to some regular guy trying his hand at flirting."

Lando’s grin widened. "Oh, I am definitely trying my hand at flirting. Famous or not, that part’s all me."

Y/n laughed again, this time more relaxed. "Well, you’re doing a pretty good job. I’ll give you that."

"Only pretty good?" Lando raised his eyebrows in mock offense. "I was hoping for at least 'very good.'"

"Let’s just say the jury’s still out," she teased back, feeling a lightness in the air between them.

Lando tilted his head, considering her words. "Alright, fair enough. But how about I buy you another drink, and we’ll see if I can sway the jury in my favor?"

Y/n smirked, raising her glass. "You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Norris."

[sgiandubh]

A propos of nothing

After another long-ish serene spell, lo and behold, the Fitness Harem seems to be back in business. Well, sort of, since the person *urv & the Other Troll already tried very hard to connect to S is not exactly a new apparition in our murky landscape.

*urv has been sitting on the narrative possibility embodied by the Czech young woman since OL's Season 7 wrapping party, when she was spotted nearby S (February 2023). Ever since, she's been on the OG Troll's radar, allegedly munro bagging with S & entourage in early August 2024. Or like now, vacaying in Jalisco (as per people who do follow her now private IG account, which I am not), while he was spotted in Sayulita, a resort town near Puerto Vallarta (same state of Jalisco, but hours of drive away).

The same old, same old question is asked frantically and answered either provocatively, by *urv who (as per the usual) hears voices, or teasingly, by the Other Troll, who keeps quiet but digs ahead.

This time, the Mexican fever was prompted by this recent IG follow one of my most trusted friends dropped in my DMs yesterday evening (sorry, querida, I couldn't care less at the time):

Who is Peri Fernandez? Well, he is the General Manager of a posh surfer hotel in Sayulita and Co-Founder of RAYCYA, a raicilla (agave spirit similar to tequila, typical for the Mexican state of Jalisco) start-up distillery, presented as a 'family project':

[Source: https://raycya.com/story]

Before that, Mr. Fernandez del Valle had some experience in the hospitality business. Please note, however, that in my very humble opinion and based on the very scarce data available, sometimes coincidences may be just that - coincidental. After all, Sayulita is not exactly Monte Carlo, is it?

[Source: https://www.linkedin.com/in/pedrofernandezdelvalle/details/experience/]

I know a connection to the Four Seasons Resort Punta Mita has already been speculated upon, but not all Hualalais are created equal. There is zero evidence connecting Mr del Valle and possible prior SC vacations to Mexico, and we can only speculate. Something I personally strive to do as little as possible. In this case, I really believe they just met upon S's arrival at the hotel: it's not unheard of the management to step forward and greet a guest, especially in tropical destinations. Happened to me, by no means a VIP, at The Strand in Rangoon, as a routine check-in perk procedure, along with those perfumed towels and cocktail.

Let me just add that I will not discuss here any specifics related to the very young Czech young woman, as I truly believe there is nothing to it than another of those Joan of Arc moments *urv seems to love creating (hearing voices and all the tralala). I did my research and decided last minute against it. Not everything that was presented (or should I say, 'carefully calibrated'?) on a now private Instagram page is relevant for the traffic of our stage.

What I can say, however, without divulging more than Tasteless *urv did, is that her connection to OL is tenuous and opportunistic at best, since OL (unlike another Scottish TV series) is not even listed on her Imdb page, as it logically should. She is not included in the painstakingly detailed OL credits page on the same Imdb website, while I do know and can prove she was /still is friendly connected, including on social media, to a guy who was part of the Props technical crew for OL's Series Art Department (and who yes, is credited as such by Imdb), from 2016 to 2022. At face value, the woman is not even a professional, just a wannabe - she holds a MSc, for Christ's sake!

So perhaps she was that guy's +1 at the OL party? Or was she one of those extras who signed NDAs, just like everyone on or around the OL set and are not allowed to strike a conversation with the cast, as per this French extra proud recollections?

Let's have a look - translation follows:

[Source: https://outlanderfrance.wordpress.com/2022/04/18/sur-le-tournage-de-la-saison-6-figurante-a-wilmington/]

'One of our admins has been living in Scotland for more than five years and was lucky to be an extra for Outlander Season 6. Her episode was aired and she is now able to talk a bit about it.'

Confirmation of prior rumors & speculation that everyone on OL's set, from cast to crew to extras, had to sign an NDA. Also confirmation that above NDAs are most probably enforced at least until the episode airs (for a simple extra) or the end of the series (for ahem, the main cast) .

But there's more:

'The extras must not speak to the actors, unless one of them starts the conversation. In fact, to them, we are part of the set. They are very cool when the situation allows, but they are in their own bubble. If you go and look on Outlander's Instagram page, you'll find the photos taken by David Berry the day the printing office scene was shot. You'll see Sam behaving like a clown during one of our takes.'

All of the above will not calm down the kerfuffle in any of the warring factions of this fandom. Voices near waterfalls (WTF is this supposed to be, a poor remake of that Blue Lagoon movie?) are carefully included in Instagram stories and then posted successively by the two worst trolls, just to blow a bit of life on the embers of speculation.

Dinna fash, Sassenachs. I think the Czech Theory has the wrong end of the stick, in this case. And yes, this time I will post, because this, ladies, is Playbook 101.

And please, don't come to me begging for more details on the Czech young woman. It is not going to happen. We are shippers and we are better than cheap gossip. Thank you for your understanding. That's all. To be continued, however....

[chilling-seavey]

Winter Warmers: Day 31 — Overstimulation & NYE Countdown

↳ A/N: Thank you all for sticking with me through my first writing festival! It was certainly a challenge but a fun one and I hope you enjoyed reading these little daily blurbs. Here is a doubly long final blurb to close out our festival x Happy new year, everyone :)

↳ Summary: New Years Eve in the Monte Carlo clubs is a force to be reckoned with.

↳ Word Count: 2070

↳ Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism, grinding, fingering, countdown 

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

The thudding of the music from the club echoed in your skull with every beat. Around you, bodies swayed and danced under strobing neon lights that flickered through thick haze of shadows and fog. You couldn’t tell if you couldn’t see straight from your alcohol consumption or from the smoke machine that was positioned uncomfortably close to the corner of the dancefloor where you and your group had claimed. Even still, your attention was far more focused on the man in front of you, chest to chest with you, hands all over you. 

In your short shimmery cocktail dress, you had somehow stumbled yourself into some club with your boyfriend to ring in the New Year. It wasn’t generally your scene but with your group of friends with you and George never leaving your side, it felt drastically more enjoyable than you had once remembered. George in his black slacks and white button up tucked into them, two buttons undone from the top—he had a tendency to start to unbutton his shirt the drunker he got. 

All of your senses were peaked in the insanity that was the Monte Carlo club scene and the expensive alcohol that just kept coming. From the music that rendered conversation impossible to the limited visibility in the shadows and flashing neon lights to the ache of your feet in your heels and the stickiness of your skin from sweat and spilled drinks. Everything was so much. 

But George was all you could focus on, keeping his gaze and sharing in his smile, dancing ungracefully together in a way that you would look back on with a sober mind and cringe. His hands were on your waist, sliding over your hips and dangerously close to your ass, holding your body against his to move in rhythm. You couldn’t get enough of him, hands gliding up his chest and over his shoulders and biceps, accepting his lead and the gyrations of his body until you were arching into him. 

Somehow you ended up turned away from him, his hands yanking you back against his front. In any other mindset maybe one of you might have been concerned over someone from the public being nearby to snap a picture but your cares had long since disappeared that night. Instead, you let yourself grind back on your boyfriend to the rhythm of the beat-heavy song, following the greedy guidance of his hands. His breath against your neck was hot and sticky—everything felt sticky—and you tilted your head back with your eyes fluttering closed to bask in his fiery touch and the feeling of his semi pressing against your ass in your tight dress. 

You hardly remembered leaving the dancefloor before your back was pressed hard against the dark painted wall of the club hallway that led towards the bathrooms, George’s lips chasing yours as he leaned in after you. Your hands framed his face, kissing him like he was the sweetest drink of the night, an intoxicating concoction mixed just for you. The flood of music chased after you into the hallway; still just as loud and just as throbbing. You couldn’t hear your kisses, your moans, the way George spoke into your mouth in words you would never hear. 

His eyes locked on yours as if expecting an answer. All you could do was nod.

Bursting into the bathroom; it was a momentary refuge from the club music, your ears ringing from the sudden quiet as the door shut behind you and muffled the sound. In the single room bathroom that was no larger than a closet with just a toilet and the smallest sink known to man, you had no choice but to be in each other’s personal space. It was where you both much preferred to be anyway: impossibly close to each other. 

George’s hand was clammy on the back of your neck as his lips captured yours in a filthy kiss again, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth. Your fingers gripped onto the damp fabric of his shirt, creasing it in your grasp in your feverish need to get him closer. He already had you trapped back against the graffitied wall of the cramped bathroom, pinned there by his body, the sequins of your dress scratching against the poorly painted drywall. 

You could taste the bitter alcohol on his tongue and as you grabbed onto the edge of his collar, you couldn’t help but suck on his tongue a little to taste every ounce of him. George groaned lowly into your mouth, eyes half-lidded and full of lust, his thigh shoving between yours in an unspoken need to get you closer. That simple action was all you needed to start to grind on his thigh, causing the tight fabric of your dress to ride up up to your hips. George bit your bottom lip between filthy kisses, giving it a tug as he pulled away for just a moment. 

Both of you were breathing hard and had yet to speak a proper word to each other but, after almost two years together, words weren’t necessary in moments like this. Instead, George helped himself up your dress and he linked his fingers in the edge of your underwear and shimmied them down your legs. You held onto his shoulders as you stepped out of them—and only got one heel stuck in the leg hole in the process but your balance was kept by your boyfriend so close to you—and then George was slipping them into the pocket of his slacks. 

And before you knew it, he had his lips back on yours and two fingers knuckle deep inside you. The thudding music rattled the wall on which you were pressed back against, muffled by the bathroom door but still strong through the foundation of the club, setting your senses ablaze with a reminder of where you were. George kissed you breathless, your arm slung around his shoulders with your other hand grasping his bicep and pressing your nails into his muscle. He swallowed your moans and whimpers up with his plush lips and tongue, tilting his head to deepen the kiss until you were almost licking into each other’s mouths. 

Your hips kept nudging towards his hand as if trying to path the pace of his fingers and their firm but gentle curls. Being intoxicated, his movements weren’t as entirely practiced and precise as they otherwise might have been but you were also too drunk to notice. Everything felt so good. You felt like you were tingling all over. All of your senses were on overdrive, succumbing to him with ease, kissing him back like your life depended on it no matter how clumsy it was. 

When you finally had to break away to breathe, you tilted your head back against the wall behind you with a pitchy groan, eyes fluttering shut. The single light bulb from the ceiling that illuminated the cramped bathroom had you sheltered in the shadow from George’s body, only the sequins of your dress along your sleeves shimmered in the warm light as you held him around his shoulders. George breathed against your cheek, hard panted breaths that reminded you of his presence. 

“That’s it…” George spoke lowly, barely heard over the muffled music through the walls as he fingered you a little faster, “Fuck, that’s it…”

“Yeah—” you choked out in encouragement. “Yeah, baby, please—”

At that moment, George raised his left hand up to check his watch—classic George to wear a $80,000 watch to a club but perhaps that was normal in Monaco. He then looked back at you, setting his hand flat against the stick wall beside your head, announcing, “One minute to midnight.”

“Ohh,” you writhed against his hand still up your bunched up dress, his fingers still working magic inside you, and you slurred out a pitchy, “I don’t care.”

“Uh huh? Yeah, you do.” George said firmly, staring at every expression your face made, “Because I’m gonna make you cum for me in sixty seconds.”

He checked his watch again.

“Fifty seconds now.”

Your fingers tugged at the fabric of his shirt, whining and whimpering to the walls of the cramped bathroom. Your hips pushed towards him, wanting and needing more, entranced by his determined pitch.

And then his lips were back on yours and your hand tangled in the back of his hair, right at the nape of his neck where the soft brunette waves were damp with sweat. Despite the fact that every ounce of the club had your senses on high alert, at that moment all you could focus on was George. He fingered you a little harder, a little faster, building that burning warmth in the pit of your stomach like a man on a mission. 

You broke away from his kiss to press your cheek to his, crying out his name with a gasp, toes curling in your heels. George groaned against your ear, pinning you right against the wall with his body so you could hardly move, his fingers meeting all the right spots and the heel of his palm giving you just the right friction against your clit. 

“Fifteen seconds.” he spoke lowly, “Are you close? Can you cum for me?”

“Uh huh!” you answered quickly, clinging onto him. 

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl for me and cum all over my fingers at midnight?” he taunted, “Welcome the new year in with a nice little orgasm?” 

“George—” you quivered. 

“Ten…” he started, eyes focused on his watch as he leaned on his forearm against the wall beside your head, his other hand keeping its pace between your legs, “Nine…eight…”

Through the bathroom door, you could hear the music fading slightly to be replaced by the crowded club starting their own countdown to the new year. Despite how the music quieted, your ears continued thudding but this time with your pulse, fast and anticipatory. Your arm tightened around George’s shoulders.

His voice was rich against your ear, “Seven…six…five…”

You almost had to hold yourself back to make it through the countdown, trying to squirm under his strong presence and the rising pleasure. His two fingers deep inside you had your thighs quivering, struggling to stay standing in your heels. 

“George—” you cried again, all you seemed to be able to say was his name. 

“Four…” he continued, a hint of a smirk in the sound of his voice, as if he could feel you throbbing around his fingers and knew just the effect he was having on you, “three…two…”

“Yes—” you squeaked, fingers tugging at the roots of his hair, “Yes, please—”

“One…”

And as the crowd shouted “Happy New Year!” from the dancefloor, you clung onto George in the privacy of the cramped club bathroom and came on his fingers. He groaned into your neck at the pressure of your embrace and the way your body squeezed around his fingers as he kept them going inside you, desperate to work you through it and addicted to the way he could feel you drip down his hand with every thrust. 

You shuddered in his arms, hips jumping in sensitivity, but he just kept fingering you. Despite how sensitive you were, you didn’t stop him. Instead, you sunk your teeth into his shoulder to smother your cries, tugging at his hair and his shirt and anything you could reach, torn between wanting him close and pushing him away in oversensitivity. He made you come again in a few seconds, a little weaker than the first but just as enjoyable until you felt like you were completely hazy and dreaming. 

George let you ease out of it and he pulled his fingers out of you and tugged down your dress back into place, smiling at your expression. You slumped back against the wall as your face broke into a pleasured grin, legs trembling in your heels and still needing something to keep you standing. Unbothered by the dampness of his fingers, he grabbed your waist over your dress and leaned in to steal a breathless kiss from you.

You shared a few soft kisses like that before he pulled away again and rested his forehead against yours, whispering out a gentle and yet somewhat prideful, “Happy New Year, my love.”

With an intoxicated but love-sick smile, you stroked your thumbs over his flushed cheeks, “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

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[pumpkennpie]

ken my love could i interest you in [CINEMATIC KISS] for landoscar? xxxx ellie 💖

YES you absolutely can omg!! tyyyyy for the prompt <3

[CINEMATIC KISS] ft. landoscar prompt fill from this list wc- 492

When Oscar and Lando entered Jimmy’z earlier in the night, there were dark, heavy clouds beginning to gather over the picturesque mountains that shield Monaco from the rest of the world.

Now, as Oscar bursts through the door and out into the glittering city, he finds that the heavens have opened up. The rain beats down on him, soaking him to the bone in seconds. Where he was overheated from the press of bodies in the club, he’s now freezing from the cold rivulets falling on him in buckets.

“Oscar! Wait!” Lando’s voice is all but drowned out by the constant thrum of the deluge, but it’s so familiar to Oscar that he’s sure he would still hear it if they were in the eye of a hurricane.

He stops in his tracks, already half a block away from the club, and turns his attention to Lando. The pounding of his footsteps grows louder and louder as he runs toward him, and Oscar only has a few seconds to brace before Lando launches himself into his arms.

“I meant it! I meant what I said,” Lando gasps out. 

His curls are plastered to his forehead, and there’s water dripping from the delicate tip of his nose. His large hands come up to cup the sides of Oscar’s face, warm and pleading against his rain-cooled skin. Oscar is holding him off the ground, his arms bracing Lando’s weight easily.

Oscar has to tilt his head back to meet Lando’s eyes. They’re sparkling in the night, bright from the few cocktails he’s had, and shimmering with unshed tears. There’s a streetlight illuminated behind him, creating a glowing golden halo around his head.

Lando looks angelic, like something holy made to be worshipped. Oscar wants to drop to his knees and pray.

“Please, just say something,” Lando whispers.

Oscar doesn’t have any words to convey the feeling of love and pure relief flowing through his veins. Lando said he loved him, and now, wrapped in his arms, he’s saying he means it. 

There is nothing Oscar can say, so he does the next best thing.

When their lips meet, it feels like something straight out of a movie. Oscar can practically hear the rising orchestral soundtrack crescendoing to a climax, its rhythm matching that of their mouths moving against each other. 

The rain intensifies, crashing down around them like the waves of the ocean to their left, loud and all-consuming. Oscar’s shirt is stuck to him in all the wrong places, but he’s numb to any sensation other than the feeling of Lando stripping his soul bare in the streets of Monte Carlo.

This feels like something they’ve done a million times before, like they’ve loved each other in every other universe and are finally coming together in this one. 

Oscar’s cheeks are wet, and at this point he can’t tell if it's from the rain or tears. It’s probably a sweet mix of both.

[feraltwinkseb]

Fernando Alonso attends a Richard Mille cocktail reception May 28, 2016 - Monte-Carlo, Monaco Source: Pascal Le Segretain/Getty Images for Richard Mille

[byronic-mess]

Fireworks

relationship: charles/lewis

rating: gen

additional warnings: none

Charles had spotted Lewis a few moments ago in the club.

Last he knew, Lewis was snowboarding somewhere, so Chares had assumed he wouldn’t be in Monte Carlo for new year’s. Apparently, that assumption was wrong, as he’d seen him in the same club as him earlier in the night, he wouldn’t say he was looking for him, but he was. He’s not sure why. Maybe he just wants to be near him. There’s something about Lewis that just draws you in, and Charles is a victim of it the same as everyone else,

He steps into the cool winter air outside for a few moments, catching his breath and turning down a cigarette that’s offered to him. He’s not even that drunk, he’s just not really feeling the party tonight, even though it’s new year’s eve and the countdown will be starting soon.

The door next to Charles opens and music comes spilling out onto the street with whoever opened it. Charles is too busy staring up at the stars to really pay attention, even as the person stops next to him and leans back against the dirty brick of the club. Charles turns his head when they clear their throat and comes face to face with Lewis. He links a few times, and Lewis smiles.

“Pierre mentioned you were looking for me.”

Charles blushes, because he wasn’t aware it was that obvious. He hadn’t said anything out loud, so it was just Pierre’s freaky power of seemingly always knowing what Charles is thinking.

“I wanted to see if you’d join us, that’s all.”

Lewis looks like he doesn’t believe him, but nods anyway. The two of them go back to staring at the stars in silence. Around them, people start to count down, and Charles can’t help but lean into Lewis’ warmth slightly. Lewis clears his throat again to catch Charles’ attention before drawing him into a slow kiss just as fireworks burst across the sky and behind Charles’ eyelids. The kiss is soft and sweet and perfect, tasting slightly of whatever cocktail Lewis had been drinking earlier. 

Lewis pulls away after a few seconds and Charles blinks at him, dazed.

“Happy new year, Charles.”

[cieloclercs]

𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 | chapter three

pairings: charles leclerc x senna!oc part: 3/? warnings: swearing i think? charles is a bit of a dick, they finally meet again so angstttt, seb and kimi the best boyfriends!! word count: 6.8k

SAUDADE. in which childhood rivals turned best friends realise they were always meant to be something more

03. wishful thinking

author’s note: sooo they’re meeting this chapter 🫣 sorry guys it’s gonna be pretty tense from here, the slow burn starts now!! 🥳🥳

read it on wattpad!

previous: chapter 2 next: chapter 4

20 January 2021 Rolex Monte Carlo Sponsor’s Gala                                                            Monte Carlo, Monaco                                                                                       

EMERALD GREEN IS becoming more familiar to Noa as the days pass, and she nears making her debut in Formula 1. It’s the colour of her evening gown, the one Raffaella had delivered to her Monte Carlo hotel room earlier that evening inside a sleek Chanel gift bag. She has to admit, if they’re trying to convince her to sign that contract, they’re certainly doing a good job, because this dress is one of the most beautiful she’s ever worn. It feels like a second skin, like ribbons of water flowing through her fingers when she hitches up the skirt a little, walking slowly up the steps to the venue. Camera lenses click and flash all around her. Even if her confidence is shredded by anxiety, dressed like this, Noa feels like a million dollars.

Just like the rest of Monaco, the Salle Belle Epoque is ludicrously expensive, lavish beyond anything she’s seen before. This is the playground of the rich, after all. Its ceilings are high, marble pillars framed with gold stretching far upwards, where they meet the ceiling, like a work of art painted across the sky. It reminds her of Versailles, Noa thinks, the image and embodiment of wealth. It’s intimidating to stand amongst it all, harsh golden lights from chandeliers glaring down upon her. But she keeps her head up high, and clutches at Sebastian’s arm a little tighter. He smiles over reassuringly. He must have done quite a few of these galas in his time. Noa trusts he won’t let her flounder.

The itinerary for the night is planned out to a tee and expected to be followed. First, the press have their fill of pictures outside the venue, something which she is, thankfully, already accustomed to. She’s the showstopper of the night in her emerald dress, and it seems the cameras can’t get enough of her. Noa has to bite back her laughter at Sebastian’s forlorn expression as he’s momentarily pushed to the side. Though he may be a four-time World Champion, he doesn’t exactly try to carry himself with much glamour anymore; much more comfortable with his unruly, one-with-nature kind of look (meaning that Britta almost had to fight him to get him to drag a comb through his hair for the night). “I’ve had my heyday in Monaco.” he tells Noa later, in the car on their way to the venue, “Those years were enough to last me a lifetime.”

Second comes the cocktail reception, in which they await the arrival of all the guests. She has half a mind to call Sebastian out on his earlier statement, as the way he’s going through already his third glass of the night is strikingly similar to his days of partying with Red Bull. Noa holds her tongue though, when they are approached by some of the other guests in attendance. She’ll remind him later, when he’s inevitably struggling to walk in a straight line.

Rolex has branched out further into Formula 1 to mark the beginning of the new season. Looking around, Noa can already spot a lot of familiar faces. There’s Lewis Hamilton, of course, over near the bar talking to the ever-smiling Daniel Ricciardo. As an old family friend, she makes a note to pull the seven-time World Champion aside to catch up before the end of the night – she hasn’t seen him in almost six months, after all. Noa has spotted Seb shooting looks at Kimi Räikkönen from across the room who, like his former teammate, is indulging perhaps a little too much on the complimentary cocktails. Then there’s Max Verstappen, who is standing stoic as ever in a corner with a familiar looking blonde woman. Noa hasn’t seen much of him since her karting days, but she thinks – looking at the slightly uncomfortable expression he wears – he might appreciate seeing a familiar face. She certainly would: well, depending on how familiar, that is.

The one person she really doesn’t want to see appears not to have arrived yet. She isn’t naïve enough to believe he won’t show up; considering he practically rules Monaco, it would be unheard of for him to not be here. Noa can’t see his new teammate, Carlos Sainz, amongst the crowd either, so she assumes the Ferrari representatives simply haven’t arrived yet. She makes a mental note to keep an eye out for the Spanish driver – that way she’ll know roughly when she needs to take herself to the bar to prepare for the undoubtedly awkward few hours ahead.

“Hey, do you mind if I leave you for a bit?” Sebastian turns to ask, eyebrows arched questioningly. Noa smiles, shaking her head. She isn’t blind – her teammate has clearly been dying to go and see Kimi, who is stood, serene as ever, by himself. He tries to play it off, assuring her that he’s more than willing to stay if it makes her feel more comfortable, but once again she shakes her head.

“It’s fine, Seb.” Noa chuckles, “Go see your boyfriend.”

He merely grins at her teasing, leaving her with a wink before making a beeline towards the Finnish driver. She watches with a smirk as they greet each other enthusiastically, a rare smile, which is mostly only reserved for Seb, taking over Kimi’s face. Then she’s at a loose end. She could go and mingle with some of the other guests, put herself out there a little bit, but with the prospect of what is about to come, Noa isn’t sure she has the energy. Maybe she needs a drink to build up her confidence first.

The bar it is, she thinks. Slowly, she begins to make her way through the crowd, stopping to say brief hello’s to those she recognises and to those who greet her first. Their faces only seem to blur together, even though she tries to hold on to them – anything to distract her from her growing anxiety. The bar is almost in sight when Noa is stopped for the final time by a very familiar voice, which brings a surprised, yet grateful smile to her face. She turns to face Max Verstappen, and for a moment all her worries seem to be forgotten about.

“Hi!” she says brightly in response to his equally enthusiastic greeting, wasting no time in wrapping him up into a friendly hug, “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, you don’t say.” Max chuckles dryly. In fact, the last time they saw each other was also the last time Noa stepped foot in the Formula 1 paddock. It feels like an age ago, but at the same time, she knows once she’s back again it’ll feel like she never left.

Hovering to Max’s left is that same familiar-looking blonde woman, smiling hesitantly as Noa pulls away to study her with curiosity. Now, close up, she realises exactly who this is. It takes a moment for the name to click with the face, but as soon as it does, her face lights up into the widest grin of the night.

Max watches this moment pass, deciding now is the time for re-introductions, “Obviously, you already know my –“

“Annie?” Noa cuts him off. His mouth snaps shut with a faint huff, “Annie Beaumont?”

The blonde woman beams ecstatically, “Hi! Oh my God, you remember!” she laughs, hands flying up to cradle her face briefly.

“Of course I do!” Noa cries. In unison, they both surge forwards at the same time, falling into a tight, familiar hug. The Brazilian squeezes her eyes shut briefly, taking in the moment, trying to commit it perfectly to memory. It was strange how she hadn’t even realised how much she missed her paddock best friend until now, when she finally got to hug her again.

“I can’t believe it.” Noa laughs incredulously as they both pull away, “It’s been years!”

Anneliese Beamount had been a near-constant presence at her side around the paddock, when they were both in their pre-teens. Noa would often go to watch Charles’ races, which more and more tended to take place separately from her own as he moved up the age groups, leaving her behind. Annie’s older brother, Luc Beaumont, was a kart racer in the same category, so many of her weekends were spent trailing along after him and their devoted parents. At the same time, Noa was often left at a loose end when Charles raced and she didn’t. So when she bumped into Annie one day at the International Circuit of Zuera in Spain, they immediately hit it off. From then on, at every race they would meet up in the paddock, tormenting Luc, Charles and their other driver friends at every opportunity they got. Noa misses those days now. It was a time where she didn’t have to worry about anything except her next race. A simple time.

“How have you been?” she asks. Annie steps back, glancing up at Max. It clicks in Noa’s head, as the Dutch driver takes her hand in his and gazes back down at her lovingly. She can’t help but let her mouth drop open ever so slightly.

“I’ve been great.” Annie grins, “I am great. We both are. Right, babe?”

Max says something in reply, but she doesn’t hear it. She’s too focussed on the way he leans down to press a kiss to Annie’s cheek, and the way his eyes light up brighter than she’s ever seen them as he looks at her. Slowly, a massive grin spreads across Noa’s face.

“This is so surreal.” She breathes, “I’m so used to you two biting each other’s heads off all the time.” the couple laugh softly, shaking their heads at the remembrance of their former, much more oblivious selves, “This is…it’s different. But I love it.”

One of her prevailing memories from all those years in the paddock is the large amount of time that teenaged Annie Beaumont and Max Verstappen spent getting on each other’s nerves. As one of Luc’s main rivals, she always tried her best to derail the Dutch driver in any way possible. It had led to more than a few very public arguments, and scolding from their parents (as well as a few paddock officials when things really got out of hand). Though, with the benefit of hindsight, Noa begins to remember things a little differently – the way that Annie somehow always managed to bring Max up in conversation, whether positive or negative; the way Max would search for her gaze across the paddock, just to give her a dirty look. Noa isn’t sure how she never saw it before. Thinking back, it was all so obvious. They never hated each other. They were just too proud and scared to admit their feelings.

“I guess you’ll have a lot of questions.” Annie giggles, noticing the still present look of dazed bewilderment on Noa’s face. The Brazilian woman nods her agreement almost instantaneously.

“You have no idea.” She chuckles.

“We should meet up some time.” Annie then suggests, her tone quietening with her slight nerves, “I can give you all the details then?” Noa’s gaze softens. It’s been far too long since they last saw each other. After the nightmare that was 2018, she all but cut everyone off; not just Charles, but everyone who had ever been connected to or associated with him. She just didn’t want to be faced with the reminder of seven years of friendship, poured straight down the drain in one night. It hits her now that in doing that, she also lost the one friendship that may have been able to lift her out of the hole she dug herself into. Noa is ashamed to say that she’s hardly thought of Annie since that day. It’s selfish, she knows, but she needed to wallow in her own grief for a little while, to let it sink in, so she could finally begin to accept it. Well, there’ll be no more wallowing from now on, Noa tells herself. She’s done letting Charles Leclerc ruin her life.

“Sounds perfect.” she grins back at the woman, another former best friend, and Annie’s face lights up like the pitch black sky in a fireworks display, “There’s a lot we need to catch up on.”

“You don’t say.” she smirks. It’s familiar, a memory from the past when they were close enough to tell each other their darkest secrets. Noa has missed it desperately, “You’ve got some explaining to do.” Annie raises an eyebrow. It doesn’t take a genius to interpret what exactly she means. The Brazilian driver grimaces; but really, an explanation is the least she can offer to Annie after everything. She owes her that, if nothing else.

Noa is about to speak again, to ask her what she’s been doing all these years that they’ve been apart, but Max suddenly calling to someone across the other side of the room makes her freeze. He moves slightly away from the pair, as if he’s giving them the option to keep talking, and waves both of his hands over his head. He’s trying to summon whoever it is. Noa’s blood runs cold. Somehow, she knows exactly who Max Verstappen is calling. It’s as if she can sense him.

“Charles! Carlos! Over here!” he yells, seemingly indifferent to the disapproving looks he gains from some of the other guests. She watches as his arms drop, and a bright smile overcomes his face. That means they’ve seen him. It means they’re walking over. Noa’s head drops for a moment to rest her chin on her chest, as she sucks in a deep breath.

“Shit.” She hisses to no one but herself. Annie hears it, and flashes her a sympathetic look. She is the only one of the three faced away from where the two Ferrari drivers are now surely fast approaching. No doubt, Annie can see them. Maybe she can see Charles, and how reluctant he is to walk over while she’s there. Maybe Carlos is all but dragging him. Or maybe he hasn’t even noticed she’s there. That might hurt her more than anything, if she’s still so torn up about the death of their friendship, and he no longer cares.

“You want a drink?” Annie whispers to her. Noa feels a sudden, overwhelming sense of gratitude. She’s quick to nod, the corners of her lips tugging upwards gratefully.

Annie calls over one of the waiting staff in an instant, who are milling around the guests with trays of cocktails balanced precariously in their arms. She takes a glass with gracious thanks, and hands it to over. As soon as the cold neck of the glass in her hands, Noa downs its contents in a single gulp. She lets the liquid burn her throat with a satisfied hum, before dropping her arm and turning to stand beside Annie, who is staring at her in shock. She knows if she looks up now, she’ll see him, probably now standing all but five metres away. But something is stopping her. So Noa instead focusses her attention on her friend – not one of the former nature. At least not any longer.

“That bad, huh?” Annie whispers again. She grimaces.

“You have no idea.”

It’s clear there can be no backing out or running away from this when Max steps forwards to embrace the two drivers, beginning first with Charles before moving onto Carlos. Though Noa still doesn’t look up, she can hear his voice. It sounds exactly the same as the last time she heard it over two years ago; just as smooth and soft, but all she can hear are the harsh words he spoke to her on that night. They’ve tainted every memory she has of him now. It’s all overshadowed by the betrayal.

Noa is snapped out of her thoughts when Carlos approaches, moving away from Max to where she and Annie are stood side by side. He greets the Belgian woman first with a familiar, friendly hug, before turning to her. He smiles, even though she can already tell he knows everything. Noa can somehow always tell. There’s something knowing glinting in his eye, not anything obvious, but just enough to be recognised. It’s the feeling of knowing something about a person that you maybe should not necessarily know. He’s not trying to show it, and he’s probably not even aware of it either – but Noa always has been. Perhaps because her paranoia searches for it.

She pushes the thoughts from her mind, stepping forward with as bright a smile as she can muster to meet the Ferrari driver in the middle. “Hi, I’m Noa.” she introduces.

Carlos’ eyebrows arch, “Oh, I know.” He chuckles, “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” She doesn’t have time to think about the many possible implications of his words before he’s stepping forwards to wrap her into a hug. Noa accepts it, and it doesn’t feel strange or forced as she may have feared. The exchange is as normal as any other, like there is no tension hanging in the air at all. When she pulls away, she even manages to smile at him, properly this time.

All that evaporates in an instant when she turns, her gaze locking onto those green eyes she’s both been dreading and longing to see for over two years. Charles Leclerc is watching her intensely, his lips ever so slightly parted. For a moment, all Noa can think to do is stare. Though it seems he’s suffering from the same dilemma.

He looks older than when she last saw him, which isn’t a massive surprise, considering it’s now been well over a year since the 2019 season ended. He’s lost most of the soft, childish curves to his face, replaced by sharp, high cheekbones and an angular jawline. The navy blue suit framing his body only adds to this newfound maturity he seems to have gained. It’s fitted to barely within an inch of the limit, tight in all the places it should be, accentuating the muscles in his arms, legs and chest which hide beneath the fabric. Charles has always been attractive – it’s simply a fact she learned to accept as a teenager – but now that seems to have been multiplied tenfold beyond anything she remembers. He looks impossibly good: annoyingly. She’s supposed to be upset with him, yet all she can focus on in those first few seconds are the depth of his eyes and his cupid’s bow lips.

Then she spots the Ferrari logo emblazoned on the breast pocket of his suit. Like someone clicking their fingers in front of her face to snap her out of her daydream, any tenderness or familiarity she may have been feeling towards him in her moment of weakness suddenly fades. All that remains are the familiar flames of anger, licking at her belly. Noa’s eyes narrow. Charles notices the change immediately.

“Uh, we’re going to get drinks from the bar.” Max says, clearing his throat awkwardly in the tense silence. He takes hold of Annie’s arm gently, ready to pull her away with him to give the two some space, “Carlos, do you want anything?”

“Actually, mate, I think I’ll come with you.” the Spanish driver announces hastily, hurrying away from Charles’ side before his teammate can attempt to drag him back. He shoots him a look over his shoulder. Noa can’t quite read it.

“We’ll see you in a bit!” Max calls brightly. The other two cringe at his forced enthusiasm, but follow him towards the bar anyway. As she leaves, Annie looks back at Noa, offering her an apologetic smile. She grimaces, her heart sinking low into her stomach. Now she has no line of defence, no one to fall back on if this conversation – or whatever it is Charles is trying to do by being here – becomes too much. Noa stares down at the empty bottom of her glass until she’s sure they are gone. Only then does she look up, finding a pair of green eyes already watching her.

She doesn’t know it, but Charles’ head is spinning. Everything he’d done to hype himself up before walking over here, and even before, to prepare himself to see her again, quite frankly, goes to absolute shit. He’s completely forgotten how he planned to start this conversation. The words are lost to the uncomfortable silence.

Noa Senna looks almost nothing like the young girl he last saw at the end of 2019, and even less like the one crushed on that awful day the year prior – one of the worst days of his entire life. He supposes it’s to be expected. She is twenty one now, a fully fledged adult now living an adult life. But it’s not just the face that she’s grown up that hits him hard. It’s how much she’s matured; how beautiful she’s become. Charles had always thought she was beautiful, even when they were kids, but nothing quite like this. Noa, stubborn, headstrong, fierce Noa, is now almost nowhere to be seen. A young woman stands in her place, stripped of all her childlike innocence. On the one hand, Charles is in awe of her. But on the other, she’s almost unrecognisable as the Noa he knows – or used to know. Undoubtedly breath taking, yet somehow less full of life. At least as he remembers her. Then again, it has been over two years since he truly saw her, and people can change a lot in that time.

Either way, the combination of shock and awe inside him is killer. His eyes are caught on the way her dress dips with every natural curve of her body. It fits her like a glove. Charles curses himself. He’s making this much harder for himself than he wanted it to be, because suddenly his mouth is dry and he’s too wracked by nerves to formulate any kind of situation-appropriate greeting in his head. He is, to put it simply, lost for words.

“Hi.” He speaks eventually. The moment the words leave his mouth, he cringes. Noa stares back at him in disbelief.

“Hi?” she returns. It comes out as more of a scoff than anything else. For the moment, Charles chooses to ignore it, pushing forwards with a strained smile.

“You – uh – you look beautiful.” He says, gulping when Noa’s expression remains perfectly impassive. He’s not sure what’s worse: gaining no reaction, or gaining the reaction he initially feared when he blurted the words out. Disgust. At least then he’d know what she is thinking.

Noa simply doesn’t quite know what to say. She’s too angry, too wracked with disbelief to find herself flattered by his compliment as she may have been a few years ago, or if she was thinking straight. How does he have the nerve to approach her, after two years of absolutely zero contact, and say something like that? It simply doesn’t make sense to her. The only think she can make sense of is the anger it sends coursing through her veins.

“What do you want, Charles?” Noa asks, a tired sigh slipping past her lips. Her mind flickers back briefly to the promise she made to her father, but in the moment, engulfed by flames, she is blind to it; wanting nothing more than to get as far away as possible from this man and his piercing green eyes. Charles feels his heart sink.

He’s pushing back all the questions he wants to ask her, trying to respect her wishes – to get straight to the point. But oh how he longs to simply sit down and talk to her again: to ask her about her day, to catch up on everything he’s missed in his absence. Instead, Charles focusses on the pressing matter, the one he originally intended to discuss with her, but seemed to forget all about as soon as he caught sight of her once again.

“I take it you know about the Chanel contract?” he asks after a moment of internal debate. Something heavy settles over his heart.

“Yes.” Noa replies. She ignores the flash of disappointment that flares up in her chest at his seeming indifference. But it’s not like she expected him to strike up a friendly conversation – that’s not how things work between them anymore.

Charles nods. He’s fighting for his concentration, mind racing as he tries to remember the rough script he came up with in his head on the car journey here. Yet no matter how hard he tries, the words just don’t seem to want to come to him.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter?” he speaks up again finally, ignoring the strange look Noa is giving him after his prolonged silence, “So we can talk.”

The Brazilian woman sighs. There are people all around her whom she either knows well or has at least been acquainted with before. Some are even strangers, and at this moment, she’d rather throw herself into a conversation with them than do this. She can see Daniel Ricciardo has joined Seb and Kimi now, not that far away from her, and Lewis is just across the room, talking to newly arrived Mark Webber. Of course, Max and Annie are only at the bar too. She could easily blow Charles off to join them. It would certainly be a much more comfortable situation for her.

But then she’s reminded of her father. Noa makes a point of keeping his trust in her as secure as a lockbox at all times, because he’s done so much for her over the years, she can’t even imagine lying to him. Besides, she knows for a fact that he would never lie to her. Noa has made a promise. As much as she wishes she could go back on it now, she needs to do this. Both for the sake of her potential contract with Chanel, and more importantly, for her father. She’ll just have to grin and bear this one.

“Alright, fine.” She concedes. Charles tries to hide the relief that flashes across his face. Luckily, she’s too preoccupied looking around the room for a quiet place to sit down to notice it, “There are some empty seats over there?” she suggests. He follows her gaze to a small, two-person booth in the corner of the room. It’s both far enough away from the majority of guests for them to be able to have a conversation in private, while also being close enough so they won’t look too out of place. Convenient. Silently, he nods, and they both make their way across the room to the booth.

Charles grabs a drink each for the both of them on the way. He hands one to Noa as she takes the seat opposite him. She doesn’t thank him, but he’s not surprised.

“This is a big opportunity for me.” the Brazilian woman speaks first. He’s a little relieved at that, but only because it means he has to struggle again to find the right words, “I don’t have to tell you how important a sponsorship like this is. I want it to work.” Noa pauses, sucking in a deep breath, “But I don’t know how it’s going to with you there.”

Charles’ eyes narrows. He feels the pain of her words like a dagger, but he feels the accusation stronger.

“They want us both, Noa.” he shoots back. She tries to ignore the way her stomach flips to hear her name spoken from his mouth. “Not just you. This is a package deal. Do you not think I need this as much as you do?”

Her heart drops. A scowl overcomes her face. Those all-too-familiar flames of anger seem to be making a reappearance, despite her desperate efforts to tame them.

“No, actually. I don’t.” she all but spits in reply, “You’re Ferrari’s golden boy. You can do no wrong.” Her voice drops dangerously low, eyes darkening until they’re almost black, “But I’m the first woman to drive in Formula 1 in almost thirty years. I need the safety net.”

Exposure like this is the best thing she can gain at the moment. That way, she builds a loyal fanbase before the season starts – a fanbase that will stand by her, even if things don’t always run smoothly. Noa knows how delicate this whole situation is. She knows that the second her performances start to dip, Chanel and any of her other sponsors could drop her in a heartbeat. That’s why she needs their backing now. Charles on the other hand, is already one of the most popular drivers on the grid. In the eyes of the Tifosi, he really can do no wrong. Sure, he may benefit from the money a deal like this will bring to both him and his team, but he doesn’t need the security like she does. Without it, he’ll still go on to keep his seat without a struggle. Noa might not.

“Are you serious?” Charles hisses under his breath, “Are you really going to make this all about you again?”

His words send her reeling. Her mouth falls open in shock and outrage, but for a good few seconds, no sound comes out. This reminds her so much of the night their friendship ended. The way he’s looking at her now, eyes blazing with anger and frustration, lips pursed as if to hold back the torrent of hurtful words he no doubt wishes to say to her. Noa won’t let it affect her anymore. She refuses to let her eyes prickle and flow with tears as they did then, even if Charles is making the same mistake that cost them seven whole years of friendship.

“Do you really want to start this argument again?” she says, as calmly as she possibly can. The softness of her voice snaps Charles out of whatever spell he is under. Immediately, the anger and frustration, remnants from two years prior, flows straight out of him. All it leaves behind is regret. But he’s past the point of being able to apologise, he knows that. After everything he’s done, no matter how many times he says I’m sorry, Charles doubts there is anything he can do to make it up to her. If the look in her eyes isn’t testament to that fact, then he doesn’t know what else is.

“No” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t.”

“Good.” Noa shoots back. Her voice is as cold as ice, “That’s not why I agreed to talk to you. I’m doing it because I care about my career, and I don’t want our past getting in the way of it.”

Charles nods. He can barely even bring himself to meet her eyes now. The fear of what he will see in them overwhelms him.

He wonders how they managed to get themselves into this situation. Besides the obvious, of course (his own stupid pride). Once – not so long ago in the grand scheme of things – Noa had been everything to him. She was his best friend, his confidant, his biggest supporter, and most of all, the one person he always believed would stay by his side. But, like so many others who came before, he lost her. It may be different, because she’s still alive and well, sitting before him now, so close he can see her rosy cheeks where her blood flows steadily beneath her skin. Noa is still with him on earth, but she’s never felt so distant. It’s a different kind of loss. In a way, it hurts just as much.

The tense silence between them feels so wrong. For two people who had once been the most important presence in the other’s life, this fall from grace is the most dramatic of all. The most heart-breaking.

Someone is calling them before they have the chance to speak again. It’s Sebastian, with a half-full glass balanced precariously in his hand, looking both apologetic and curious. Noa stares at him. She’s torn between feeling grateful that he’s cut this excruciating exchange short, and feeling irritated that he’s interrupting just as she feels they’re finally about to get somewhere.

“We’re going through for dinner now.” he tells them. They both nod in reply, but make no move to stand. Sebastian turns on his heel after that, marching back towards where Kimi is waiting for him. Noa catches her teammate grimace at the Finnish driver, shaking his head. She sighs.

“We should probably go.” Charles speaks up first. A hum is all he receives in reply, yet still, neither of them make the move to stand. This conversation is still very much unfinished. They’ve got a lot to work through if they’re ever going to be able to work together comfortably. One night simply isn’t going to be enough, they realise that now.

Noa watches with raised eyebrows as Charles reaches to pull his phone out of his pocket. He punches the passcode in quickly, tapping a few more buttons before he places it face up on the table and spins the screen around to face her. It’s open on the contacts app. Her gaze snaps up to watch him with an expression he can’t quite interpret.

“If you give me your number, we can arrange another time to meet up.” he explains, “I’ve got some testing to do in Maranello next week, so maybe after that?”

Noa doesn’t reply. She simply continues to stare down at his phone, her eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly.

“You deleted my number?” she asks quietly.

Charles’ lips part, but no sound comes out. His mind stutters for a moment, trying to come up with an explanation. He’d deleted her number almost immediately after their fight, too overcome with fury to pause and think about the potential consequences of his actions. But once he’d done it, there was no going back. In the moment, he’d wanted every trace of Noa out of his life. If only he’d known then how much he would later come to regret that decision.

“It’s fine.” Noa waves him away as he begins to stammer out some kind of excuse, “I deleted yours too.”

Only after she’d tried to call him about a hundred times, but she’s sure he doesn’t need to know that part. It perhaps explains why she never received any answer, but for some reason, that only makes her feel worse. The anger is gone, replaced by the sadness and regret she’s been trying to ignore for months. Noa just hopes Charles can’t sense the change in her demeanour. Though, if he’s still the same Charles she remembers deep down, he’ll be just as in-tune with her emotions now as he was back then.

Silently, she types in her number into the new contact on his phone. It feels strange to simultaneously add her full name into the empty space, rather than one of her many childhood nicknames he’d given her when they were young. It’s so formal – so unlike them, as they used to be, anyway. Noa’s heart is heavy when she slides the phone back across the table towards him, and he takes it, fitting it back into his pocket.

This time they do stand up. The other guests are beginning to file into the dining hall by now, a low hum of chatter settled amongst them which gradually grows softer as each person moves out of the room one by one. Noa notices that Sebastian is waiting for her by the bar. She smiles over at him gratefully. At least she knows he’ll have her back this season, whatever happens.

Just before she can walk over to her expectant teammate, a gentle hand on her arm halts her in position. She freezes, turning slowly at the sound of Charles murmuring her name in a tone so soft she can barely hear it. He hasn’t touched her in over two years, she realises. Not since that night has she felt the warmth of his hand on her skin. Noa hates that it still manages to send sparks coursing through her body, a pleasant shiver shooting up her spine. After all this time, all the heartbreak, and she’s still as weak as ever.

“Noa.” Charles repeats, just as softly as before, snapping her out of her trance. She looks away from where his hand rests on her arm, gaze lifting to meet his eyes. They’re wide, shining with something she thinks is…hope? He takes a small step away from her, clearing his throat nervously. There’s a lot he wishes to say to her right now; some bad, some good, but all of them honest. One thought pushes his way to the front of his mind. I’ve missed you, he thinks. But he can’t say something like that to her, not now. So he settles for another truth; one not quite so risky as the admittance that he’s spent every single day of her two year absence wishing she was there by his side.

“It’s good to see you.” Charles says finally. Even if she’s changed almost beyond recognition, even if it seems as though she’d rather be anywhere but here with him right now, he’s glad she is. It’s been far too long.

Noa can do nothing but stare. She’s not angry anymore, but she’s not sad either. She just feels empty. Charles Leclerc has lost his power over her, just as he lost her friendship over two years ago. Maybe it is a good thing she’s seeing him now. Maybe this will begin the process of gaining closure: of letting him, and whatever they used to be go. Without a word, Noa turns away, striding across the room to where Sebastian waits for her, not even sparing Charles a second glance. He watches the emerald of her dress slide along the floor, and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, she’s gone. Too late to see the regret he wears, his heart out on his sleeve.

“How did it go?” Sebastian asks as they walk side by side into the dining hall. He glances back towards the door, from which Charles has still not emerged.

“It was ok.” Noa murmurs in reply, “All things considered, it could have gone a lot worse.” She lets her eyes wander the room, searching briefly for their assigned table. When she finds it, she taps Sebastian on the arm, and they make their way quickly over, weaving between the other tables so as to cause as little disturbance as possible, “I think we’ll be meeting again to talk in more detail about what we’re going to do, though.” She admits. Sebastian looks to her with raised eyebrows.

“And how do you feel about that?” he asks. He’s not stupid – he can sense the lingering animosity between the two former friends (or at least, Noa’s animosity towards Charles) as clearly as anything. As much as she’s fierce and headstrong, Sebastian has also come to learn that his teammate does not enjoy confrontation. No doubt, they’ll be quite a lot of that in the time it takes for them to figure out how they’re going to move forward.

“It needs to be done.” Noa says with a resigned shrug, “The contract is pretty clear – either we’re both in, or neither of us are. As much as I wish I never have to speak to him again, I care about making this work more.”

Sebastian hums. They’re nearing their assigned table now, where most of the other Formula 1 drivers in attendance are also sat. Just as they approach, he steals a glance at Noa, trying to read her expression in the few moments he has before she catches him. It’s impassive to the untrained eye, but Sebastian has always figured himself to be someone who’s very good at reading other people’s emotions. Despite her callous words, he can see she’s hurting. Noa believes she means it when she says she never wants to see him again. Sebastian knows she doesn’t really. She’s simply telling herself she does.

They take their seats around the table where their name places are set out. Luckily, they are next to each other. Noa is pleasantly surprised to find Max Verstappen seated on her left, with Annie on his other side shooting her a look that says, ‘As soon as this is over, you’re telling me everything.’ Sebastian looks like he’s just won the lottery when he sits down next to Kimi Räikkönen, whose blank expression lifts for only a split second when he sees his former teammate. For a moment, Noa doesn’t even spot the empty seat in front of her on the other side of the table. She’s perfectly oblivious, wrapped up in the distraction of conversation with her fellow drivers.

Then another round of greetings ripple across the table, and she looks up. Charles makes his way towards the seat in front of her, next to his teammate who waits to pat him on the back and shoot him an encouraging look. Noa sighs. Her eyes find Sebastian’s.

It’s going to be a long night.

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noasenna_updates Noa at the Rolex Monte Carlo Sponsor’s gala tonight! She’s wearing a custom made emerald Chanel formal dress, which was apparently especially designed for the occasion! 😍

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username it’s noa’s world, we’re just living in it

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username she’s so beautiful it hurts 🥲

username isn’t charles there too??

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[ifreakingloveroyals]

17 June 2015 | Prince Albert II of Monaco and Princess Charlene of Monaco pose with actors Lindsay Wagner, Stephanie Powers, Bo Derek and Lee Majors during the Monaco Palace cocktail party of the 55th Monte Carlo TV festival in Monte-Carlo, Monaco. (c) Olivier Huitel/ PLS Pool/Getty Images

[gracie-bird]

INSIDE GRACE'S WARDROBE 🪡 COCKTAIL DIOR BLACK DRESS WITH SILK RIBBON AND LACE.

I only have records of Princess Grace wearing this dress in 1966: at a reception (probably in Monte Carlo) in early 1966 (second row left) and on May 16 at the Ball of Smiles in Monaco (right).

[fashionluxuryinfo]

ZEGNA CELEBRA L’APERTURA DEL SUO NUOVO NEGOZIO A MONTE CARLO

Leader globale nell’abbigliamento maschile di lusso, ZEGNA, è lieto di annunciare l’apertura del suo primo Negozio a Monte Carlo, un traguardo importante che segna l’espansione del brand in Europa. Lo scorso anno, ZEGNA ha raggiunto alcune delle destinazioni turistiche più esclusive con aperture di negozi a Taormina, Astir Marina e Puerto Banús.

Per celebrare l’apertura si è tenuto un evento esclusivo con cocktail e cena, ospitato da Gildo Zegna, CEO e Presidente del Gruppo Ermenegildo Zegna, insieme ad Angelo Zegna, CEO di ZEGNA EMEA e Global Client Strategy Director.

[rampoldirestaurant]

Discover the Elegance of Bar Restaurant Rampoldi

Located in the heart of Monte Carlo, Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is a gem that combines luxury, culinary excellence, and sophisticated ambiance. With its rich history and a reputation for delivering unforgettable experiences, Rampoldi is more than just a dining destination—it’s a lifestyle choice.

The Legacy of Bar Restaurant Rampoldi

A Heritage of Excellence

Bar Restaurant Rampoldi has been a cornerstone of Monte Carlo’s fine dining scene since its inception in 1946. Known for its timeless charm and elegance, it has attracted a distinguished clientele over the decades. From Hollywood stars to royalty, Rampoldi’s tables have hosted countless luminaries, making it an iconic establishment in Monaco. Learn more about Monte Carlo.

Commitment to Quality

Rampoldi’s longevity is a testament to its unwavering commitment to quality. Every aspect of the experience—from the meticulously crafted dishes to the impeccable service—is designed to exceed expectations. This dedication has cemented its place as one of Monaco’s most esteemed dining establishments. Explore Rampoldi’s official website for more details.

A Culinary Journey at Bar Restaurant Rampoldi

Exceptional Cuisine

At the heart of Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is its exceptional menu, which seamlessly blends tradition and innovation. The culinary team, led by renowned chefs, takes pride in crafting dishes that celebrate Mediterranean flavors while incorporating modern techniques.

Signature Dishes

Lobster Tagliolini: A decadent dish featuring fresh lobster and house-made pasta, infused with the flavors of the sea.

Tuna Tartare: Prepared with the finest ingredients, this dish is a perfect balance of freshness and umami.

Truffle Risotto: A creamy masterpiece that highlights the earthy, luxurious taste of truffles.

Check out the menu for more culinary delights.

Seasonal Ingredients

Rampoldi places a strong emphasis on using seasonal, locally sourced ingredients. This approach ensures that every dish not only delights the palate but also supports sustainable practices. Discover more about our philosophy.

The Bar Experience

A Celebration of Mixology

The bar at Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is a haven for cocktail enthusiasts. Its team of expert mixologists crafts innovative drinks that are as visually stunning as they are delicious.

Must-Try Cocktails

Monte Carlo Mule: A refreshing twist on the classic Moscow Mule, featuring local ingredients.

Lavender Martini: A floral delight with a hint of citrus, perfect for an evening of elegance.

Signature Negroni: A bold, timeless cocktail reimagined with Rampoldi’s unique flair.

Learn about our signature drinks.

A Curated Wine List

In addition to its cocktail offerings, Rampoldi boasts an extensive wine list that caters to even the most discerning oenophiles. From rare vintages to contemporary favorites, there’s something for every palate.

The Atmosphere at Bar Restaurant Rampoldi

Timeless Elegance

The interior of Bar Restaurant Rampoldi exudes sophistication. With its plush seating, ambient lighting, and tasteful décor, the space strikes a perfect balance between luxury and comfort.

Outdoor Terrace

For those who prefer dining al fresco, the outdoor terrace offers a stunning view of Monte Carlo’s vibrant streets. It’s an ideal spot for soaking in the Mediterranean atmosphere while savoring a meal or a cocktail. Explore our gallery to see the beautiful settings.

Events and Private Event

Memorable Celebrations

Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is the perfect venue for hosting special occasions. Whether it’s a wedding, a birthday party, or a corporate event, the team ensures that every detail is meticulously planned and executed. Contact us to plan your event.

Exclusive Experiences

For an intimate gathering, Rampoldi offers private dining options that guarantee privacy and exclusivity. Guests can enjoy a bespoke menu tailored to their preferences, making every event truly unique.

Sustainability and Community Engagement

A Focus on Sustainability

Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is committed to sustainable practices. By sourcing ingredients locally and minimizing waste, the restaurant contributes to a healthier planet while maintaining the highest culinary standards.

Supporting Local Artisans

Rampoldi also collaborates with local artisans and producers, showcasing the best of Monaco’s craftsmanship. This not only enhances the dining experience but also supports the local economy. Learn about our sustainability efforts.

Why Choose Bar Restaurant Rampoldi?

A Unique Blend of Tradition and Modernity

What sets Bar Restaurant Rampoldi apart is its ability to seamlessly blend tradition with modernity. While honoring its storied past, the restaurant continues to innovate, ensuring that every visit is fresh and exciting.

World-Class Service

From the moment you step into Rampoldi, you’re treated like royalty. The staff’s attention to detail and genuine warmth create an inviting atmosphere that makes every guest feel special.

Plan Your Visit

Reservations

Given its popularity, it’s recommended to make a reservation in advance. This ensures you secure your spot and enjoy a seamless experience. Book your table now.

Location and Accessibility

Conveniently located in Monte Carlo, Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is easily accessible by car, taxi, or public transportation. Its central location makes it a must-visit for both locals and tourists. Get directions.

Conclusion

Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is more than just a place to dine; it’s a destination that captures the essence of Monte Carlo’s elegance and charm. Whether you’re seeking a romantic dinner, a casual lunch, or a venue for a grand celebration, Rampoldi promises an experience that will linger in your memory long after the last bite. Don’t miss the chance to indulge in this extraordinary blend of luxury, flavor, and hospitality. Visit us today.