Formula 1 Imagines

RED IS FOR FERRARI AND CHRISTMAS

summary: she decorates for the holidays with white and blue, but for him, it doesn't cut it.

"MON AMOUR, what is this white and blue bullshit?" the monégasque spoke from behind her. she turned to see a look of disbelief creased on his face. she scoffed as she strung the ribbons about the room.

shaking her head as she tied it off and stepped down from the ladder, she took a step back to admire her work, "figured you had enough red trauma in your life," she'd poke fun at charles, a smile gracing her face as he, undoubtedly, stared at her in admiration. but he'd prefer red.

"not funny, chérie." he deadpanned, though she could see the smirk that pulled at his lips, "red is better than whatever this shit is." he shook his head, hand on his side as he looked up at the decor.

she pouted, "but the white and blue looks good, besides it's too much work to redo it all."

"I'll help you."

she rolled her eyes, burning holes into his as she heavily sighed. she rolled her neck to look at the strung ribbon and ornaments she'd worked hard to decorate.

he admired the effort and dedication to her christmas spirit, and honestly, he was just poking fun. as long as she was happy, it didn't matter to him if they were blue or white, or even the most hideous of neons if that's what her heart desired. he just wanted to poke fun at his love for not using the color that dominated his life, in a good or bad way.

at the end of the day, he'd know that no matter how she decorated, it'd end up more beautiful than the previous year as he'd increase the budget at which how much she could spend because let's be honest, he knew she'd come home with more bags than what could fit in the apartment if he didn't limit her spending. she was like a little elf compared to the mountain of items she bought, excluding gifts.

he didn't care how much of his money she spent, he'd gladly push as much of it towards her as he could because he had more than he could ever spend, and if he knew one person that could, it was her.

his hands would find their way around her waist, sliding his face into the crevice of her neck and inhaling the addicting smell of her shampoo lingering in her hair, the faint perfume residing on her skin as well.

his lips would leave faint kisses along her neck, muttering against her skin, "c'est jolie, chérie, tu peux le laisser." (it's pretty, darling, you can leave it.)

her voice would go up an octave as his warm skin pressed hers, smiling widely at her work, "merci beaucoup, mais je pense que le rouge serait plus joli." (thank you very much, but I think red would be prettier)

"moi aussi." (me too.) he agreed with her, feeling the smirk of his lips against her skin, she rolled her eyes, but regardless, she'd pull out the red decor from the years prior. though she didn't mind him forcing his ferrari trauma on her, she did like the change up, but she knew that he'd secretly prefer red.

but she didn't know that he just liked whatever she did. anything she did was perfect to him and he loved every idea that her mind thought of. she was sacred and he would protect that.

he'd watch her vigorously tear down the blue, but left the white, which he didn't mind as it contrasted nicely against the dark red she'd chosen and the gold accents that complimented it.

she'd stand tired, half-lidded eyes as she turned around the room to admire her work when she'd hear the footsteps of her love from behind her. she heard glass clink on the end table of their living room as he caught her hand in his.

he twirled her around the room, the soft piano sounds of christmas music played throughout the apartment as they swayed to the sound.

"très belle," he'd coo, "juste comme toi." (very beautiful, just like you)

she'd blush, feeling the heat rush to her face, "et tu es très beau." (and you are very handsome) she replied shyly, a chuckle escaping his lips at her demeanor, even though she'd heard the words numerous times.

"merci, mon amour."