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#Charles Comfort
random-brushstrokes · 26 days
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Charles Comfort (Canadian, 1900 - 1994) - Algonquin Lake
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cdnart · 8 months
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Charles Comfort; Opalescent Sea, Ingonish
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kit-middleton · 1 year
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Does this remind you of anything?
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This is making me think maybe St-Patrick’s isn’t quite ornate enough to be a Catholic church?
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oublimsart · 6 months
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Charles Comfort
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maxtermind · 12 days
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baby, would i still be your lover?
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★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 2.9k ★ : a/n :: as much as i love making the crack texts, i'm just an angst addict 😔
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Max Verstappen
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Everyone, people who weren’t even in Max’s close proximity, knew that he was impulsive and a little reckless. With you, on the contrary, Max was usually a think first, act later kind of a lover. That wasn’t to say that when arguments happened, they were a pretty sight to look at.
It was a single thing that you said which suddenly turned into a huge blown out argument, leaving your head throbbing as Max continued to vent his frustrations about unrelated issues.
"You're so hot-headed, you can't even have a normal conversation without blowing up."
"Attacking me now, are you?" Max retorted, his tone defensive.
He was quick to bite back and the ball in your throat made it scratch-y to talk. You were sure that your eyes were welling up with tears but he was too far away to see it.
"I'm just stating the truth.” You started after taking a shuddering breath. “Every time we talk, it turns into a fight because you can't control your temper."
"Well, maybe if you didn't push all my buttons, we wouldn't be here."
He was talking in the same decibel at least and for a second you had hope that everything would be better. Then his words registered and the hope vanished as well.
"I'm not the one who flies off the handle at the slightest provocation!"
You had to stop and take another breath, otherwise, you were going to start crying and this conversation was inevitably going to get left in between because Max wasn’t an asshole who was okay with his girlfriend crying just because he was angry.
"You know what? I'm sick of your constant criticism."
"And I'm sick of walking on eggshells around you!"
He took a moment to say the next thing. The silence indicating that he was thinking it over first. Max's next words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
"Fine, maybe we should just call it quits then."
The suggestion hit you like a punch to the gut. Was this really that easy for him? He just ripped your heart out and splashed it on the ground. Your chest hurt so much and he was just sitting there? Was he not at all affected by the way you looked close to crying now?
"Fine. Enjoy being single and available," you retorted, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion.
Your boyfriend rolled his eyes looking over at you, indicating how he didn’t really think that you guys were breaking up. Though in your head, this was the last time you were ever going to look into his eyes again.
"You're too sensitive, always getting upset over nothing."
You were already on the edge, not having even processed that you guys almost- probably did break up over you trying to talk something out with him.
“Us breaking up is nothing to you?”
The weight of his words crashed over you, the tears finally spilling down your cheeks. Max's expression softened, regret flashing in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and the fragile bond between you felt irreparably shattered.
Lewis Hamilton
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How can one tell if they really are in a good relationship? Is it the security and sense of peace? Is it the frequent love confessions? Honestly, the explanation might differ person to person but one thing you always believed that made a relationship was being level headed even during arguments when emotions were running high
Needless to say, you were very glad you found solace in Lewis. A person who was prone to recognizing the impact of his words. Arguments between you two were rare, and when they did occur, Lewis prioritized finding solutions rather than escalating the conflict. His ability to remain level-headed during disagreements was a cornerstone of your relationship.
Everyone has those days though, when acting out of character seems more suitable than the usual. Moments when emotions override reason.
You were more worked up than usual. Your insides were burning with this desire to get answers because your boyfriend wasn’t there with you on the day you needed him the most.
You drove back home from your conference, dismayed despite it being a very successful session, given that your proposal got accepted as soon as you were done. You just wished your chocolate eyed man was sitting in the crowd looking at you with his signature proud smile.
After a shower, you sat on your couch to watch some show and just move on from the bittersweet day. It was an hour later, when your boyfriend showed up with a bouquet in his hand. Lewis walked over to you and leaned down to kiss your head.
“Congratulations, love," he greeted, oblivious to the storm brewing within you. “Saw it on the news, sorry I couldn’t join you. Got caught up with work.”
Usually, you would have avoided the argument till you felt like you could understand his side too. That was one of the things that helped you guys the most. You both waited to discuss stuff till you knew you were calm and ready to get what the other was saying.
“Aren’t you too busy with work lately?”
He gave a humorous huff in return, not catching on.
“You know how it is once the season starts.”
“You literally got home last night and you had to go in again early in the morning?”
“Missed me?”
He had a playful grin on his face and it killed you to spoil the good mood.
"Of course, after all you're more committed to your cars than you are to me."
The words left your mouth and you were too far gone to be caring about it at this point. Lewis has been such a passionate lover so this sudden shift was hurting you.
“What was that?” he responded, his tone sharp with surprise.
However, you were done and already up to call in early but his words stopped you on our track.
“Wow. You're so insecure, it's exhausting trying to boost your ego all the time."
Tears immediately welled up in your eyes but you didn’t turn around and with a deflated sigh, walked into your bedroom before locking the door while Lewis stood frozen in his place, not believing his own words.
It was like he was in a stance and all he could do was listen to you cry through the closed door on a day when you guys were supposed to be celebrating each other’s wins.
Carlos Sainz
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Carlos was the perfect man. His mature yet easy going demeanor was exactly what you needed in a partner. You hadn't been together for that long to be at the altar but just enough to know that you were going to last.
You understood the demands on Carlos's time, with his career in the spotlight of the racing world when you decided to say yes to a date with him. Carlos was left with very less time away from all the glam, media and the track. Making it precious because of how rare it was.
You mostly accompanied him and let him drag you around to wherever he wanted once he had the break. So imagine your surprise when the only time you made some pretty important plans and he refused to tag alone.
"I can’t believe you’re saying no to this," you protested, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
“I’m not saying no to anything, Carina.” He kissed your knuckles to un-knot the strong fist you’ve made of them. “I’m just suggesting we do it some other time.”
"But this is the third time, Carlos!" You stood up, unable to contain your hurt and disappointment. “Sorry if meeting my parents is such a chore for you.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth now.” Carlos responded with a sigh, attempting to pull you into a hug, which you reluctantly accepted. “It's not about it being a chore. You know I'd do anything for you, Y/N."
"I do know that, but actions speak louder than words, Carlos. My family is important to me."
“I promise that I want to meet them. I do. It's just… the timing."
"I don't want promises, Carlos. I want actions. If you can't even make it to meet my parents, what does that say about our future?" You insisted with a heavy heart, putting distance between you two.
"You're blowing this out of proportion, Y/N." Carlos countered, frustration evident in his voice.
"Out of proportion? I just wanted you to meet my family, and you can't even do that!"
“Well, I don’t have time to waste on this! If you want to go, just go alone!” His words hung in the air, a sharp pang of hurt piercing through you.
You immediately took a step back and saw him do the same. Both of you standing there as the silence stretched, contemplating in silence what exactly the next course of action was going to be.
“Y/N, I…” He trailed off as you glared at your foot, trying to hold the tears in before one eventually slipped and fell down your cheek.
“Baby, no! Don’t cry!” He panicked about extending his hand, about to touch you but you flinched away and shook your head.
“Carlos, if you think I’ll just ignore what you said ten seconds ago then you’re very wrong.” You whispered, your voice thick and husky.
Guess you were the only one from you both expecting this relationship to last. A second later, you were clutching your bag in your hand and walking towards the exit, speaking up before Carlos could beg you once again to ‘sit and talk it out.’
“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice barely a whisper. “Thanks for letting me know that our time together was time wasted for you.”
You walked out with his heart in your pocket, your own splashed on the floor of your apartment.
Charles Leclerc
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Charles was the love of your life, the very time you saw him smile at you from across the room igniting a spark in you that shaped your future together.
He walked over to you with a pretty girl hanging onto his arm, leaving the impression that they were more than friends. Everyone around you was also convinced at the time that they were dating but Charles bluntly flirting with proved just how different the real life scenario was.
Pippa was just his ‘best friend,’ someone who throws side eyes at you every time you and your boyfriend are in close proximity to her. Despite nearly a year together, her hostility persisted, the woman was a different kind of vicious. Hell bent on draining your energy.
It was physically exhausting being around her with her catty sarcastic tone that Charles always failed to notice. It was just another one of those days and Charles dismissed your concerns as usual, leaving you frustrated.
This time it was pissing you off greatly.
"Doesn't she realize we're together?" You rolled your eyes.
Charles remained silent and that drew your brows together.
“Charles, does she not think we’re serious?”
“I don't think so. She's always been oblivious to these things.”
And honestly? That fucking hurt. It hurt to know that Charles noticed this but was still rather quick to defend her every time.
"But we've been together almost a year?”
"Baby, she just never pays attention.” His arm pulled you closer to his chest. “Or maybe she doesn't want to see it."
"Do you think she has feelings for you?”
There it was, the truth out in the open. As much as it made you want to die to say it out loud and acknowledge it, your body felt lighter while the comforting arm around your waist began to feel heavier.
"I don't know. Maybe?” Charles’ chest heaved with a deep sigh, "It's complicated?"
The heart beating in your chest stopped for a long second because of how unconcerned your boyfriend seemed right now. Was he seriously just going to accept that a person he has shared so much history with wants to steal him from you?
“It’s not that simple, darling. she's been a friend for years.”
“Yeah, well, friends don't act like that. She’s just what? Waiting for the right moment to swoop in and steal you away from me?”
Charles did not like it because the arm was moved away from you in a second and he was sitting a bit straighter now. He looked furious and ready to defend his best friend and all that was running through your head was how he would probably not do the same for you in front of her.
"That's enough, Y/N. You're being paranoid."
"Paranoid? Or realistic? Face it, Charles, you're so blind when it comes to her. It makes me feel so small compared to her!"
Charles, frustrated and defensive, ran a hand through his hair and shot back,"Don't flatter yourself thinking Pippa gives a damn about you or me."
Lando Norris
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No one could deny the magnetic pull Lando had on everyone around him. It was, after all, what drew you to him in the first place. You had your biases but he broke through them all with his shameless at worst and awkward at best flirting.
However, as you stood in a quiet corner to hide from the crowd, you couldn’t find it in yourself to sympathize with Lando. He had brought you to this glamorous social event, flashes of camera and expensive drinks overflowing all around you.
You were extremely excited to accompany your boyfriend especially since he had such an amazing season but throughout the evening, Lando was constantly pulled away by enthusiastic fans and demanding media, leaving you aside feeling like an accessory rather than his partner.
Standing in a quiet corner, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as you watched other couples bask in each other's company. You didn’t even know where Lando was at this very second.
Then, suddenly, his arms enveloped you from behind, his lips pressing gently against your head. "I'm sorry, babe. Everyone here just wants a piece of me," he murmured, attempting to console you.
You sighed and tried to calm yourself so you wouldn't explode in front of everyone, "I understand, but I miss spending time with you."
"I promise, I'll make it up to you tonight." Lando winked, keeping the conversation light.
That was all he said before someone from your left approached him again and your safety haven spot under the stairs was crowded with journalists a second later. You rolled your eyes before walking away, with half a mind to grab a cab and leave.
It was on your way back home when your patience finally ran its course as you listened to your boyfriend go on and on about how much of a success the event was.
“Why did you even take me with you?” You interrupted, your tone tinged with hurt and watched as the smile on his face got replaced with a frown.
“What?”
“I mean… you barely clicked two pictures with me and then left me to fetch for myself? You didn’t even come stand with me for more than a minute?”
"Babe, I'm sorry, but this is part of the job."
"I get it, but it doesn't make it easier.” You felt your own body shudder because of how overwhelmed you felt. “You were there talking to everyone but me!”
Lando opened his mouth to say something but you weren’t done yet.
“They were all strangers to me and you didn’t even acknowledge this! I was standing there alone the whole time, watching others and wondering why my boyfriend wasn’t there for me!”
The weight of your words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, there was silence. You stopped to take a breath and not start crying. Then, Lando spoke, his words struck like a knife to the heart.
“This isn’t… This isn’t about you. Why are you always making it about you?”
Your body froze after that and your mind went blank. You didn’t care that the tears were running out of your eyes or that apologies were falling from his mouth. His own eyes were welling up because he knew.
He knew what he said was unacceptable.
You were so zoned out that as soon as the car stopped, you got out of the car. Thankful to catch the glimpse of yellow among the traffic before you hailed a taxi, the distance between you and Lando growing with each passing moment.
He attempted to hold your arm, his own tears falling down his face. You just wanted to put your point across but with his reaction, you were certain you guys were done for.
“I guess I expected a little too much from you, Lando.”
With a heavy heart, you walked away, knowing that sometimes love wasn't enough to mend the fractures in a relationship.
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©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.
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trysomemilk · 1 month
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The Sun of Maranello
and The Rain of Milton Keynes
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toytle · 10 months
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everything abt this is outdated but ykw. tag yourself anyway, i’m jean and fred
text ID under cut:
mom jeans (jean): 1) leader but not by choice 2) never forgets a birthday 3) gets away with things due to her reputation
mom jeans (jean): 1) leader but not by choice 2) never forgets a birthday 3) gets away with things due to her reputation
fuzzy elf (kurt): 1) tries to be hip with the kids (is a kid) 2) honorary catboy 3) fingerguns his way out of situations
:3 (kitty): 1) impulsive shopper 2) livetweets everything 3) says ‘omg’ and ‘ttyl’ outloud 4) bakes muffins for her friends! they are inedible!
skater boi (evan): 1) cool guy syndrome 😎 (undiagnosed adhd) 2) steals food off his friends' plates 3) PARKOUR!
e-girl blueprint (rogue): 1) hopeless romantic 2) only child AND middle child energy 3) knows the best thrifting spots
“””team leader””” (lance): 1) tries a lot, fails a lot 2) anger is default emotion 3) probably named his car betty or smth
actual team leader (pietro). 1) cool guy syndrome 😎 (unmedicated adhd) 2) causes problems on purpose 3) motivated by attention
toad (todd): 1) thinks he's just soo funny. well, he is. 2) hasn't showered in a month 3) stays out of drama but Will grab the popcorn
bombshell blonde (tabitha): 1) self-loathing vs superiority complex: fight! 2) flirts with friends 3) parties to avoid being alone with her thoughts
scarlet bitch (wanda): 1) hates authority figures 2) cuts her own hair. and clothes. 3) in a constant state of overstimulation 4) deserves to snap tbh
hey it’s (fred)!: 1) cries easily 2) would literally murder for friends 3) treats plushies like living creatures
professor clean (xavier): 1) “hello el gee bee tee que community" 2) adopts every child he sees 3) knows everything and yet nothing at all
grrrr (logan): 1) that sounds like a you problem." 2) acts like he hates kids but tacks their drawings to the fridge 3) believes that violence is the answer
weather report (ororo): 1) everyone's bisexual awakening 2) has high expectations for everyone, including herself 3) live laugh love 😊😊😊 or else
mr beast but like actually (hank): 1) god, i could really use a drink." *makes chamomile tea* 2) longs to be a smooth rock basking in the sun 3) gives unwarranted life lessons
another blue one (mystique): 1) #girlboss 2) “gay rights but only for me" 3) loves her son but will dropkick other children
magnum dong (magneto): 1) heterophobic 2) "you have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair" 3) does not love his son AND will dropkick other children
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Coraline
Synopsis: Y/n’s childhood and history with her parents has always stayed a secret, and she likes it that way. Until a journalist reveals the truth, and everything seems to come crashing down at once.
young female driver reader x 2023 F1 grid
A/N: a few things for this fic: reader will be 20 years old, had driven for alpha tauri since the beginning of 2022, the 2022 is the same as the 2023 grid, and please look at the trigger warning below.
Trigger Warning: This fic contains abusive parents, talks of eating disorders, neglecting a kid, verbally abusing a kid, signs of depression, and a lot of hurtful comments in general. This fic is not meant to idolize or romanticize having abusive parents or depression. If anyone finds anything particularly disturbing with this fic, do not hesitate to let me know and I will fix it.
tagged: @treehouse-mouse
2023 was supposed to be a good season for Alpha Tauri. The cars looked good, your driver pairing was solid, and the hopes were high for your junior Red Bull team. You could only laugh at the naivety of it now.
Most of the season was exceptional; you and Yuki Tsunoda brought in points almost every weekend, your team was seventh in the constructors championship, and overall, you were having a great time traveling around the world.
This was your second year in Formula 1, and now that you weren’t a rookie anymore, you could have more fun now that you knew what you were doing.
Some people just don’t like others being happy, though.
With less than 10 races left, you walked into the paddock for the Monza Grand Prix Thursday afternoon feeling optimistic. This was the second race after the summer break, and Alpha Tauri was expected to do well in Italy.
Your press officer, Ally, greeted you in your garage, and after saying hello to Yuki, you followed her out of the garage and into the media pen for a press conference.
You walk in to see Lewis, Carlos, Lando, and Fernando and talked quietly with them as the press in front of you get settled. “Everybody ready? All right, first question please” One of the directors asks, as a journalists speaks up.
“Lewis, you’ve witnessed the infamous ‘Monza Curse’ multiple times in your career, do you think the theory is true and will it strike again this year?”
“Um, no” Lewis chuckles. “I don’t believe in the curse, but it would be nice to see someone new finish first today, and if a curse is what it’s going to take, then yeah, why not”
The five of you laugh, not noticing the second journalist beginning to speak. “Y/n, what do you have to say about the recent article published regarding your past with your family?”
You instantly stop laughing, hoping you misheard the man.
“Sorry?”
There’s no way
“The article? That was recently published concerning your past with your parents, what do you have to say about it?” The journalist stared at you curiously while your mind blanked for an answer.
You had no idea what article he was talking about, but if it concerned your past with your ‘family’, you knew it wasn’t anything that should be published.
Suddenly there’s movement in the midst of the media pen, and your press officer emerges from the crowd. “Y/n, come with me” She pauses, seeing one of the directors nearing out of the corner of her eye.
“It’s urgent, I need her” You’d take any excuse to get away from the current situation, so after exchanging a look with Lewis, you follow the woman into the paddock towards your garage.
Once you were both in the safety of your drivers room, you turned on her. “What article is he talking about? What’s going on?” You said, voice heavy with concern.
Ally hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before answering. “This morning, an article published a story talking about you and your parents, and the-um, harsh history you have with them” She hands you her phone, said article already open.
“I think it’s better if you read it yourself” The bold letters blink up at you, clear and sullen.
“F1 DRIVERS UNCOVERED: THE REAL REASON WE DON’T SEE Y/N L/N’S PARENTS”
Your heart falls to your stomach and your hands start to shake as your eyes skim over the words of the most invading and overwhelming article you’ve ever read in your life. Whoever wrote this, wrote it in hopes of exposing every secret of your past, and further tangles the truth of an already over-complicated background.
The real reason your parents are never around you is a reason you hate talking about.
You first realized it when you were around ten years old, the way your parents never looked happy around each other, and always tense around other parents. The way they never said ‘I love you’ or kissed each other goodbye. It confused you, as these were the things you always saw your friend’s parents do, but you were too young to understand at the time, so you mainly ignored it.
It wasn’t until one night when you were eleven that you heard an argument erupting from your kitchen, one about money and divorces and you. The shouting continued for ages, until you heard one statement, loud and clear.
“Think about this, she’s getting good in those karting competitions of hers, and according to other parents she could go really far in this thing and get money from sponsorships and mentors. So let’s just give it a little time, make sure she gets better and gets paid, and the money will go to us and eventually she’ll leave to Formula- whatever and we won’t have to worry about her”
You put your pillow over your head, turned around, and went to sleep sobbing that night.
From then on, there was no ‘I love you’s’ or kisses goodbye even to you, and eventually, no happiness in your house. The ‘other parents’ were right, the older you got, the farther you looked to go in racing. Just before you turned 13, the three of you moved to a city in England so you could pursue karting further, and that’s when it all got worse.
You competed in countless competitions, and every race you won, the more criticism you got from your mom and dad. The second you stepped off the 1st place podium, your parents were waiting to comment on your driving and the techniques you should’ve used to win.
They never let you focus on anything but karting, letting you go nowhere but the track and to school, and made sure you were always looking for ways to get better. They ruthlessly compared you to kids in other series that were performing better than you, and countered every compliment someone gave you with a complaint.
All of this seemed like a dream compared to the treatment you got when you lost. Whether it be second, or tenth, every race you didn’t come first in was a loss, and your parents simply didn’t accept this.
When you lost, they’d make you practice on track for twice as long, no matter the weather, and berated you the second you started to complain. They limited your diet after your losses, claiming you needed to be lighter if you wanted the kart to go faster.
Your mother and father gave you this relentless attention with anything regarding racing, but the moment the topic drifted, you were neglected. There were no family dinners or movie nights, if you wanted something, you were going to have to buy it with your own money, and if you wanted to go somewhere, you needed to walk or find a ride because they refused to drive you anywhere if it wasn’t for a race.
There was no other family to go to even when things go impossibly rougher; you had no other relatives in the UK, and you couldn’t exactly ask your friends if you could live with them.
So you endured these conditions, all the way through the F4 British Championship, F3 and F2. You turned 18 while you were in Formula 2, and the second you did, you took the little money you had, and rented an apartment in South England, where you’ve been living ever since.
Your parents constantly contacted you in whatever ways they could, but you very quickly made sure they didn’t know where you lived and were never given paddock passes again. No one knows any of this anyway; when people ask where your parents are or when they’d get to meet them, you just shrug and say, “they couldn’t make it”
You haven’t seen your parents in person since you were 17, and you’ve done everything in your power to keep it like that.
Though with a few thousand words and 4 hours, one nosy journalist has managed to unravel all your work and growth and release it into the world.
You’re broken out of your stunned silence when Ally puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve set up a meeting with Alpha Tauri and Red Bull’s PR managers so we could figure out what we should do next to keep the press off your back, okay? The meeting’s in fifteen meetings, so I’ll leave you for a while”
Ally takes her phone back and exits the room to leave you standing still in the middle of it, astonished and speechless.
The meeting goes as well as you expected it to go. You shared as much as the truth as you saw fit, and came up with a statement to post with the rest of the PR managers. You were confirmed to go back to the media pen to finish interviews an hour later, and while no one asked you about the article, you could tell it was the unanswered question they all wanted to raise.
You are able to avoid most of the press of the remaining of the Italian weekend, and stuck to answering race-related questions only, your safest and only option, Ally told you later. You finished the Grand Prix P10, and flew home still sullen.
You spent the two weeks in between Monza and Japan in your apartment, regretfully thinking about all those years you had to spend under your parent’s treatment, and trying to forget them with simulator work.
You arrive in Suzuka, quiet and unsmiling, and try to ignore the shouting of the press that greets you on your way into the paddock. Ally guides you away as two new voices greet you.
“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Lewis asks, pulling you into a side hug and stepping into place beside you.
“Are you okay? You seem off” Charles says concerned, meeting you in a handshake.
“I’m fine, my flight just got in late last night so I’m tired, that’s all” You half smiled in response, hoping it was believable enough.
“Sure?” Lewis presses father. “Yeah, I’m okay” You nod.
“Okay, well, we’re still going into the city after media today?” Lewis asks. “Of course, I’ll meet you guys at my hotel after” You assure as you near the Alpha Tauri garage.
“See you then, and try to sleep a bit, yes?” Charles says before the two men walk off together.
Your friendship with the two drivers started because of the Spanish and British Grand Prix’s, the two races that gave you your two highest race finishes, and ended with two of your closest friends. Spain was a great race for both you and Lewis, yourself in P4, him in P2, and after non-stop talking in the paddock, you flew back to the UK together, effectively starting the friendship existing today.
You’d been friendly with Charles previously, but after his P9 finish in Silverstone and your P5 finish, he realized in a conversation before an interview that you were undeniably good at cheering people up, and you guys have been close since.
You’ve talked with them since Monza, of course, but not about the article. They want to talk to you about it, you can tell, but Charles and Lewis aren’t the type of people to just come right out and ask if you’re feeling okay about your history with your abusive parents being exposed to the world.
They also don’t want to pressure you into talking about something you clearly don’t want to talk about, so if all they can do is help distract you from the media, they’re going to.
Your night out with the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers does distract you; Lewis leads you and Charles to different shops and restaurants all over Suzuka, talking and laughing the entire time. You take a few photos along the way, and you go back to your hotel still smiling.
You kept your good mood until qualifying on Saturday, and are brought back into the reality of racing when you only manage P11. It’s technically not bad of a result for your car, but P9 or P8 would’ve been better right now, because all you can think about is what your parents would’ve said if you finished P11.
They’re paying you millions of dollars to race for them and the best you can do is eleventh?
You think you deserve to be here?
They are hundreds of other drivers that would do so much better than you
You are nothing compared to the other drivers
You’re lucky if you keep you seat next season, I know I wouldn’t let a P11 driver on my team
You go quiet at the thought, and get through post-race media stoic. You leave with your trainer as soon as you can, avoiding Lewis and Charles’s eyes on your way out. You have a week before you have to leave for Qatar, and spend a countless amount of hours on your simulator, hoping this time it’ll make a difference.
You flew into Lusail not knowing what to expect other than hot weather, and unfortunately you were right. You felt the heat as soon as you got in your car for FP1 on Friday and was already dreading the rest of the weekend.
You qualify P11 for both the race and the sprint, and end up in P12 for the two. You felt terrible after Sunday’s race, both physically and mentally, and you’re already berating yourself for your performance by the time you get weighed.
Charles and Lewis are in your post-race press conference group, and you can see them exchange a look after every cold and detached answer you give. You only stop to talk to your friends for a few minutes afterwards before you excuse yourself to go cool down, and leave minutes later with the defense of needing rest.
You fly back to the UK with Lewis, and you’re glad the two of you are asleep for most of the trip so Lewis won’t ask you to talk about why you’ve been so quiet.
The 10 days you have until you fly out to Austin are spent mostly on your phone, looking at all the comments people have been making about you since the article came out, saying how you probably deserved the treatment that you got, and how Alpha Tauri needs a more “stable” driver if they want to advance in the championship.
You don’t do much except exercise and train on the sim in those days, finding neither the desire or energy to do anything else.
Even though everyone is happy to be in Texas that week, you can’t find the energy to truly smile once that weekend. Charles and Lewis are practically stuck to your side, and even though you can tell they’re dying to ask you to talk about it, they only ask a few times if you wanted to tell them something, and when you denied, and simply offered companionship through silence.
It’s another sprint race, and you only pull off P12 and 13 for qualifying and the shootout, and drop a place by the end of both races.
You feel more frustrated with yourself than ever; you don’t understand why you can’t work with the car like you once used to, and you can’t even figure out how to again. You were doing so well until that fucking article came out, and all the sudden you don’t know how to drive.
The worst part about it is that every race, more and more people are realizing how you’ve been under-performing, and how people are starting to question your ability to drive for the junior Red Bull team.
You aren’t stupid, you know how things work at Red Bull, so you know that if you don’t pick your pace up soon, you could end up without a seat for the 2024 season.
This thought alone starts to destroy you, and soon you can’t even deny how burnt out you are. You pick up on the forced habit of not eating much, and making yourself to do nothing but train and look for ways to be better.
You spend the days before Mexico with data analysts and strategists, looking for any and every way to go faster. You dedicate too much time looking at successful F2 drivers, hearing Liam Lawson’s name come up too much for comfort, thinking about how Dennis Hauger had been looking fast in F2.
It’s a terribly unhealthy time killer, one that makes you look sick and go quiet. Charles and Lewis aren’t the only ones exchanging concerned looks now; multiple other drivers on the grid, friends with you or not, notice the change in your behavior and quickly grow worried when they hear Yuki’s description of you.
The drivers aren’t stupid either, they all know about the article that was published in September, and most of them would be lying if they said they hadn’t looked at it in curiosity. They’d also be lying if they saw their eyes didn’t widen in concern or eyebrows didn’t furrow with worry when they read how terrible your parents treated you.
The grid saw how the comments got nastier and nastier under your lessening social media posts every day, and even asked your PR officer multiple times to make sure she was managing your accounts and making sure you didn’t see what people had to say about your background or yourself.
They saw how you got quieter every race, how you stopped hanging out with Yuki and Charles and Lewis, no matter how many times they offered. They saw the rumors of you and your 2024 seat, how apparently Helmut Marko was paying close attention to you and the clauses in your contract.
They asked a lot, if you wanted to talk or if they could help in any way. It was always the same response; a weary smile, a small shake of the head, the words,“No, I’m fine, just tired” and an excuse that you were needed in your garage or media pen.
So they try to help in more discreet ways; when Yuki is asked about your position on Alpha Tauri or your future with Red Bull, he calmly assures that you are working hard with the team, and is doing everything possible to understand the car.
Charles, Lewis, and a few other drivers make a routine of coming to your driver’s room, most of the time just to sit with you as you look at data, or talk with you when you’re feeling up to it.
Mexico goes somehow worse than Texas, and you finish with your lowest result in F1 yet, P15. You try to be as approachable as possible in post-race media, but your sullen face gives you away.
You leave with Ally and your trainer to catch your flight to Brazil mere hours after you passed the checkered flag, and spend most of your time in Sau Paulo alone in your hotel room, replaying every hurtful comment either your mother and father or fans have said about you, and debating whether or not it was true.
You walk into the Brazilian paddock Thursday morning more grateful than you thought possible that this was the third-to-last race of your season.
And according to over twenty media sources, your third-to last race of F1.
After a public statement made by Marko talking about how Red Bull was “considering your future with their junior team” every journalist in the F1 community has decided that it means this was your last season in F1.
And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Whether you raced in 2024 or not, you just wanted to go home and avoid the press for three months.
It was another sprint weekend, and another terrible qualifying and shootout. You placed 15th in both sessions and kept your place in the sprint, and spent a quiet Saturday evening in your hotel.
You could feel almost every journalists eye’s turn to you as soon as you walked into the paddock on Sunday. You arrived early that afternoon to get some extra data-stuff done, only now realizing that it gave the growing group of reporters behind you more time to ask you questions.
“Y/n! Can you tell us about your future in F1?”
“Will you have a seat next year?
“Y/n, what does Helmut Marko think about your decrease in performance?”
“Does your past with your parents have anything to do with your recent race results?”
You try to keep your face emotionless as you make your way into the Alpha Tauri garage and to your drivers room. You prepare for the race with your personal trainer and look over the arranged strategies for Sau Paulo while you wait for the go-ahead to get in your car.
Due to all the crashed-out cars, you ended the race in P12 in front of Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. Statistically speaking, it was one of your better 2023 races, but everyone knows if it wasn’t for all the DNF’s, you’d finish in the bottom five.
You know that everyone knows this because just before you walked into the media pen after your race debrief, you saw Christian Horner and Marko speaking to your team principle, and after Yuki’s P9 finish today, it didn’t take you even a second to understand who they were talking about with disappointed faces and multiple shakes of the head.
Sure, this could mean nothing. This could just be a conversation between the three people that control the top team and it’s junior team. But you also like to think you’re a bit smarter than that.
You walked deeper into the crowded area before the three could see you, and walked to the first open journalist you saw, in hopes of leaving early.
“Y/n, hi! Not too bad of a race for you today, I guess?” The man asked, pointing his microphone towards you
“Yeah, not too bad. The car felt pretty okay and there was a bit of pace, but not enough to overtake or anything, clearly” You reply.
“Can we expect more race pace from you in Las and Vegas and Abu Dhabi?”
“I mean, it’s a bit too early to tell, but we’ll hope and see what comes out out of the practices” The man nods before looking down at his notebook.
“And your seat for Alpha Tauri next year, we know you’re apart of the confirmed driver lineup for 2024 but Helmut Marko states that there are attainable clauses in your contract, what do you think about that?”
You’re caught off guard by the question, but right when you’re about to respond, the man continues.
“Surely, Alpha Tauri isn’t really considering keeping you for next season, are they?”
You’re standing in front of the man speechless now, your brain barely comprehending what’s being spoken.
“Because I know the last thing a team wants is an incapable driver that is too emotionally effected by her “traumatic” childhood to race,” the volume of his voice starts to increase, and other drivers are starting to focus on your one-sided conversation.
“I mean, c’mon, no one even believes that even happened to you, and if it did, your parents were probably right for doing it-”
Your hands are shaking, eyes are wide with shock, body suddenly freezing, and you don’t even think you’re breathing. All you can do is listen as this man goes on and on about how you’re a shitty driver and deserved how your parents treated you.
You’re only broken out of your trance when an arm clad in red wraps around your shoulders and pulls you through the paddock. You’re not even aware of the yelling from a certain Mercedes drivers gets quieter and quieter as you’re brought into your driver’s room.
You’re being sat on a couch, and suddenly Charles Leclerc’s face is right in front of you, hands on your shoulders and eyes filled with concerned. “Y/n? Y/n, look at me, please, Y/n-” Your eyes dart to him and in an instant, everything from the past five minutes comes rushing through your head, and you can’t stop the tears that start to fall down your face.
“Oh, Y/n” The Ferrari driver moves to comfort you, but stops as you begin to cover your face and move away.
“No, Y/n, it’s okay, please, let me help you, Y/n” Charles wraps his arms around you in a hug as your body begins to shake with uncontrollable sobs.
“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore, Charles” You say in between breaths.
“I have to quit or something, I can’t keep doing this Charles, I can’t” You let your head fall on his shoulder, as the man tries to calm you down.
Charles’ heart is breaking as he comforts his friend; he remembers loving his first few years in Formula 1, how everything was so new and exciting to him, he could never not want to race, not then and not now. But to hear one of his closest friends breakdown because of how much she hates being there, makes the man’s heart shatter.
The door abruptly opens, and for a moment, all you can hear is the low angry cursing of Lewis Hamilton, until he sees you and Charles, and his face immediately softens.
“Love, I’m so sorry. That guy is a complete arsehole, don’t listen to him” The British man says as he takes a seat beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel so stuck in this place where everyone is always talking about what happened and I don’t know how much longer I can go through it” You say, your voice breaking off with another sob.
Charles hushes you once more, exchanging a worried look with Lewis as you pull away from him again. “I’m sorry, I know I should be doing better and everything but I just can’t-” You say, voice shaky through the tears.
“Don’t for one second be sorry that you’re not competitive right now. Y/n, thousands of people are talking about the one thing that hurt you the most, and I understand why you feel this way, just please, love, for your own good, let us help you. I promise it will make you feel better” Lewis assures, grabbing your hand.
So for the first time, you do. For over an hour, you tell Charles and Lewis everything that happened when you were younger, and how the article has made you feel since then. They listen quietly, nodding once in a while to let you know they understand, and gave you a hug when you stopped talking.
“Do you feel better now?” Lewis asks.
“Yeah, not entirely, but better”
“Good, that’s all I wanted to hear,”
“Are you ready to go home now? There’s a plane waiting for us, if you want”
“Definitely. I need to go home” You say as Charles helps pack up all your things and Lewis makes sure there’s a car waiting for you two outside. As you’re all walking through the nearly-empty paddock, Charles turns to you.
“I have to go back to my garage, but please Y/n, if you ever need to talk, call me? I want to help you, I don’t want to see you like this again” The Monegasque brings you into a hug.
“I know, Charles, I will” You promise.
“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas, yes? Feel better!” He calls as he moves backwards and further into the paddock.
“You promise?”
Lewis asks you hours later in the front of the airport in England, just about to get into separate cars.
“Yes, Lewis, I’ll call when I need” You say to the older man in a hug.
“Alright, text me when you’ve made it home and make sure you get some rest. Don’t be too hard on yourself either, you don’t give yourself enough credit for everything you do” You smile at him.
“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas?”
“See you before Vegas!” He shouts from his already-closed car door.
When you do see the two next, they make sure you’ve made an appointment with a therapist and are setting up a meeting with your PR manager to put together a statement in regards to your well-being the past two months.
Charles and Lewis make sure the media inside the paddock is severely monitored and checked before being allowed near the drivers, and help you fall back into healthier habits.
These changes don’t happen overnight, and they don’t take affect overnight, but you do use the winter off season to make sure these changes are helpful and working.
The three month break is utilized to mentally and physically prepare yorself in time for your 2024 seat at Alpha Tauri that was re-confirmed after your P8 finishes in Las Vegas and Abu Dhabi.
The media still knows everything, and you haven’t completely forgotten your childhood, you never will, but dealing with it still gets easier.
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reidiot · 29 days
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i feel like as a society we moved on too fast from saudi arabian gp cause what do you mean charles got the fastest lap on 40laps old tires? what do you mean kevin took the L for the team twice? what do you mean P4 for the pookiest pookie that has ever pookied? what do you mean can you bring it in, he's in the fucking wall. what do you mean little bear has more points in the championship than lance, nico, alex, zhou, kevin, daniel, esteban, yuki, logan, valtteri and pierre COMBINED? what do you mean??
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f1-stuff · 5 months
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Abu Dhabi GP '23 // SF Full Access
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petersthree · 7 months
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Oh, yeah. Her dad, too. In fact, he was gonna walk her down the aisle holding her childhood dog. | ONLY MURDERS IN THE BUILDING | THIRTY
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k0juki · 1 month
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It's just a vase
Kimi Räikkönen x fem!reader
gn is alright too!
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Warnings: blood, sad reader, maybe slight panic attack, mentions of y/n BUT soft Kimi that loves y/n so mutch. And one Google translate
Hurt/Comfort angst and bit of fluff I guess? It's longer than I wanted it to be, but 💁‍♀️
summary: Kimi calmly reassure reader when she drop a glass, gently checking her hands for any injury.
Words: 680
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It wasn't her fault, it really wasn't. That stupid vase just slipped out of her hands.
That's what she told herself. 
And y/n being y/n, clumsy as always didn't mean to destroy it, even if it was by an  accident, she still feels horrible. It's just a stupid glass, nothing that you can repair, but still, she feels horrible.
 She doesn't want him to know that she broke his favorite one, the one that she gave him on his birthday, as a present from her.
And what she doesn't want him to know, is that she had accidentally cut herself when she started to clean up the shards.
Y/n told herself that she's gonna clean it up before Kimi comes back. But her hand hurts and is still bleeding. At first it didn't hurt at all and the bleeding wasn't that bad, but the more she tried to help, the more it bled and hurt.
She couldn't do anything more than sit there, lean back against the couch and cry. She felt pathetic, "why i wasn't more careful?" now, fully crying, she didn't heard that Kimi came back from his training. 
When he opened the door, he knew something wasn't right, maybe it's because he didn't got his "hey Kimi, you're finally home, I made your favorite" or "we can now watch that new movie you were talking about", no, the only think he heard was soft cries from the next room.
Without a second thought, Kimi storm to the living room of your shared apartment, to find you sitting on the floor crying with bloody hand and about millions of shards next to you. The bood now staining the new carpet she bought last week and how happy she was when they bought it, to their home.
"Hey, hey it's alright, y/n you hear me? It's alright ". Kimi said, calmly reassuring, kneeling in front of her. "Let me see your hand okay? It's alright I promise". He took her hand and examined it, upon seeing the large but not deep cut he knew it wasn't anything serious, but was still careful and conscious of the pain she must be feeling in the moment.
Carefully, he helped y/n stand up and go around the shards. "I'm sorry " was all she was able to say. "It's all right love, there's nothing to be sorry for". He got her shaking form to the bathroom and gently picked her up, to make her sit on the counter. "What happened Lumihiutale?". Kimi said as he started wrapping bandage around her hand, after he disinfected it.
Y/n looked at him, when her cries died after while, but was still shaking and had lump in her throat. "Well I-I was cleaning" she started speaking, voice weak and wobbly "a-and I accidentally dropped the vase and then it s-shattered and tried to clean it, but I had cut myself and it hurt a-and I..." she almost started to cry again, but Kimi had stopped it before she could. 
"Hey, hey, look at me, it's alright, it's just a vase, yeah? A vase." He softly said to her. Putting his hands on each side of her head, looking straight to her eyes, his piercing blues looking into hers, kissing her slowly. 
"Don't apologize, okay? I'm just glad that you are alright now" he said after he pulled away. Helping her down and making sure she was fine he said "c'mon i will clean it up and then we'll watch some movie, how about that, hm?"
Now when y/n wasn't crying anymore, she turned to him, carefully wrapping both of her hands around his torso and resting her head on his shoulder. Finally feeling better after the mess she accidentally made. 
"Thank you Kimi" she whispered as she felt his arms wrapping around her, his left hand holding the back of her head, gently massaging her scalp and his other wrapping around her waist, kissing the top of her head.
"There's nothing to be thanking for Lumihiutale, I love you, alright?"
"Love you too Kimi".
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Lumihiutale = snow flake
DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK!
I promised nsfw, but I felt angsty...so tomorrow or maybe later today will be nsfw 🙏 bear with me
English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!
The picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!
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cdnart · 11 months
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Charles Comfort; The Chapel of the Ursulines
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wafflesrisa · 11 months
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The 2021 C2 Song Challenge
Ferrari deleted this iconic video from their YouTube channel. Posting this to tumblr for public service.
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oublimsart · 6 months
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Charles Comfort
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maxtermind · 23 days
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if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow
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★ : summary :: as the roar of engines fades, the defeat on the track are mended in the arms of their significant other (when they lose a race) ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort; angst; fluff ★ : word count :: 2.7k
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Max Verstappen
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Max had never felt so distant from you. He had the win in his bag, he started good and was going to give it his all but was forced to retire due to a sudden engine failure while leading the race.
He was rightfully disheartened. The post-race meeting only added to his frustration as blame was thrown around instead of taking responsibility. It only got worse when he walked out of it with a, ‘This is such a waste of time.’
As he ranted in the car, his anger palpable, you listened silently, and caressed his hand when, had gotten a call from his dad.
“Just let it ring,” you whispered from the passenger seat. Your attempt was futile though before he picked up the call and put it on bluetooth in his ear.
You waited until you reached home before discreetly ending the call, giving Max a moment to compose himself. He didn’t let you hear anything but as he sat in his seat, rubbing his face to get rid of his emotions, you knew the conversation had affected him deeply.
Opening his car door, you pulled him out using his hand before getting home before you both took a shower in silence, allowing Max the space to process. It wasn't until you were tucked under the covers, clean and warm, that he finally spoke.
"I just hate feeling like I let everyone down," Max confessed, his voice heavy with guilt.
"You didn't let anyone down, Max,” you reassured him, kissing the top of his hand. “You gave it your all out there.”
"I still feel like I'm constantly disappointing everyone," Max muttered, his voice thick with frustration.
"You're not a disappointment, Max. You're a phenomenal driver, and sometimes things just don't go our way.”
"It's hard to believe that sometimes," Max admitted, his gaze distant and you realized what exactly he was thinking about right now.
"Your dad's words don't define you, Max. You're so much more than that," you said firmly, refusing to let him internalize the negativity.
"It's just… I've always looked up to him, you know? His opinion matters," Max confessed, his tone tinged with sadness.
"But you're your own person, Max. And you're incredible in your own right," you reminded him, squeezing his hand gently.
"I know, but… it still hurts," Max admitted, his shoulders slumping with the weight of it all.
"I wish I could shield you from all of this," you murmured, feeling a pang of helplessness. Your boyfriend nodded softly, looking so so so small that it was physically hurting you to even keep looking at him, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within.
"Hey, look at me," you said, gently tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. "You are loved, Max. Don't ever forget that." "Thanks, Y/N. I needed to hear that," Max replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Anytime, Max. I'm here for you, through the highs and the lows," you said earnestly, offering him a comforting embrace.
He looked conflicted for a second and you were sure whatever he was about to say was going to officially break your heart into two. Max's voice was barely above a whisper when he admitted it, his expression pained,"It's just… seeing them celebrate my failure, it stings."
"I know it's tough seeing those celebrations, Max, but remember, those people celebrating are just haters who can't accept that someone is doing better than them," you said firmly, trying to inject some perspective into the situation. "Their joy comes from a place of envy, not genuine happiness. Don't let their negativity dampen your spirit."
"I hope you're right," Max said, his voice tinged with doubt. "Thanks for always being there, babe. I don't know what I'd do without you," Max said sincerely, his eyes reflecting gratitude.
"You'll never have to find out, Max. I'll always be by your side.”
Lewis Hamilton
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Your heart dropped the moment you saw the tire puncture Lewis’ car in the second last lap of the race. His frustration and curses echoed through the headphones, reaching you with a painful clarity.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! This is all so shit!” Lewis’s distorted voice cried through the radio. “I was so fucking close!”
As much as it hurt you to listen to this, you decided to keep your emotions at bay so you could handle your boyfriend’s better. Silently making your way through the people in the paddock to the back.
The chaos and disappointment from everyone forcing your chest to hurt a little. The only thought in your mind was how Lewis was probably feeling much much worse than you right now.
You heard his car before you saw him, and when you did, the defeat etched on his face made you want to cry. Lewis seemed drained and defeated, devoid of the usual fire.
“Baby?” You called, catching his attention. He nodded at someone before making his way towards you. Pulling you into a less crowded area before wrapping his arms around your shoulder.
"I don’t think I can face the interviews and media circus after this," he confessed, his breath warm against your neck.
"Should I go get the getaway car ready?" You joked, delighted to hear a small huff from his mouth.
“Can’t really leave before that though,” Lewis replied. “I’m beat, just wish it wasn’t this close to winning.”
Realizing he needed encouragement, you took a deep breath and spoke softly.
"Lewis, it's incredibly tough luck to have a tire blowout so close to the finish line, especially when you were leading so strongly," you said, feeling his grip tighten around you. "But these moments, they test your resilience and determination."
He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as you continued to rub his back.
"I know it's hard, Lewis, but remember, every setback is just a setup for a comeback," you whispered soothingly.
"I just had my heart set on this win," he murmured, disappointment evident in his voice.
"I know, love, but sometimes things don't go as planned," you replied, offering a comforting squeeze.
"It's like the universe has it out for me today," Lewis said with a bitter chuckle.
"Maybe it's just testing how badly you want it," you suggested optimistically. "Well, it's certainly made its point," he said, a hint of bitterness lingering.
You were about to speak again when he interrupted.
"I just wish it had been enough."
"It will be next time," you said confidently, refusing to let him dwell on the defeat.
"I hope you're right," Lewis said, a hint of determination creeping back into his voice. "Thanks for always believing in me.”
"Always, Lewis. That's what lovers are for," you said, smiling warmly at him, admiring his eyes that had some of their shine back intact.
Carlos Sainz
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The relief you felt when Carlos walked out of the safety car before making his way towards you was indescribable. From the moment his car collided with another due to a racing incident until now, with his arms around your shoulders, you hadn't taken a single calm breath.
It was probably less brutal than what was shown on the screen, given that it happened so fast that none of the drivers had even processed what was happening. Still the incident had left you with a knot of dread in your stomach.
Carlos was okay, you repeated to yourself, but it didn't quell the pounding of your heart or the trembling of your hands. You were trying to stay composed but it was really hard while your boyfriend talked to someone from the team, frustrated that he had to retire so soon.
"Hey, at least you're still in one piece," you pointed out, trying to inject a bit of humor into the situation but it sounded dry and that was when Carlos took a good look at you, his gaze sharpening as he realized how shaken you were. "Babe, are you alright?" Carlos asked, his concern evident in his voice as he reached out to touch your trembling hand.
"I'm fine, just a bit shaken," you admitted, forcing a shaky smile as you tried really hard to stay in the present and not let your brain run rampant.
"I'm so sorry you had to see that," Carlos said, his eyes filled with regret as he pulled you into a comforting embrace. Knowing that he would’ve been the same if it was the other way around.
"I promise I'll be more careful out there," Carlos vowed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
"I'm just glad you're okay," you whispered, burying your face in his chest as you finally allowed yourself to let go of the tension you had been holding.
"It's not your fault, Carlos. These things happen in racing-”
"I know, but I hate putting you through this," Carlos said, his voice filled with remorse. "Let's forget about the race for now, okay? We'll focus on us."
"That sounds perfect," you agreed, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you leaned into his warmth, longing to put the ordeal behind you.
"I love you so much," Carlos said earnestly, his eyes filled with love as he looked at you. Hands holding you tight against him, grounding you so you could understand that he was real and wasn’t going anywhere.
"Let's get out of here and grab some dinner, just the two of us," Carlos proposed, eager to shift your focus away from the day's events as he led you towards the exit. Mentally making a list of things he would tell you to take your mind off of what happened today.
Charles Leclerc
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You found yourself seething almost as much as Charles after yet another podium slipped away due to a messed up pit stop. It lasted more than a fucking forever at such a pivotal moment in the race.
It really made you wonder whether his team was even working with him or deliberately against him to make sure that neither of them could score more points. He had opted to stay silent, shutting out the media and team meetings, and unfortunately, that meant withdrawing from you too.
“Charles?” You asked after giving him ample time to process the race in the sitting room all alone like he requested.
He simply hummed before taking a sip of whatever his glass held before you carefully took it from his hand and put it on the table. Crawling into his lap to make sure he knew he could lean on you.
"This isn't the solution," you whispered, pointing to yourself. "Talk to me. Mid-life crises are lighter when shared."
“I don’t think I have the brain to make a correct decision ever.”
"Hey, don't say that," you said firmly, looking into his eyes with a mixture of concern and determination. "You're one of the most talented drivers out there, Charles. One pit stop mishap doesn't change that," you assured, brushing a stray hair from his face.
"But it keeps happening, Y/N," Charles replied, his voice heavy with frustration. "I know, love, and it's unfair. But you can't let it define you," you said, cupping his cheek in your hand.
"I understand how frustrating it is, Charles," you said, your voice soft but determined. "But dwelling on what went wrong won't change anything."
"What do you suggest, then?" Charles asked, a hint of desperation in his tone. "Let's analyze what happened today. Break it down step by step," you suggested, gently guiding him to a more constructive approach. "Let's start with the pit stop. What went wrong there?" you prompted, encouraging him to identify the specific issues.
"It was a miscommunication between the crew members," Charles recalled, his brow furrowing with concentration.
"Okay, so how can we prevent that from happening in the future?"
"Maybe we need to implement clearer communication protocols," Charles suggested, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes.
"That sounds like a solid plan. Let's discuss it with your team tomorrow," you said, nodding in agreement.
"But what if they don't listen to me?" Charles wondered, his confidence wavering.
"You're their driver, Charles. Your input is invaluable. They'll listen," you assured him, offering a reassuring smile.
"I feel a bit better now," Charles admitted, a hint of relief in his tone. “I was just so lost, I should've talked to you a bit sooner.” Your boyfriend whispered before leaning down and dropping a soft lingering kiss on your lips, conveying what words couldn't. "I'm lucky to have you, Y/N."
"And I'm lucky to have you, Charles. We make a great team," you replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly.
Lando Norris
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The usual smile was off of Lando’s face. He faced an unavoidable collision with another car in the chaotic start of the race, resulting in damage to his car and an early retirement. Though he tried to maintain a facade of normalcy, the tension in his jaw and the sharpness in his gaze betrayed his true emotions.
Lando was typically a laid back playful guy who was always joking around, had retreated into himself on this dismal day, with even the reporters giving him a wide berth. No one has seen him this dejected before and it was killing you.
However, as soon as the race concluded, it was clear why he was keeping up appearances. Lando pecked your cheek and told you to stay put before following the rookie who had collided with his car.
Alarm bells rang in your head and you were right behind him, stopping him using his shoulder.
“Babe, maybe it's best to cool down before confronting him.” You saw him sigh and open his mouth to retort but you were quicker. “Walk with me.”
You understood him obviously, knowing that the incident was beyond his control and shattered his hopes for a strong finish.
"I can't just let it slide, Y/N," Lando said, his voice tight with frustration as he glanced back towards the rookie's garage.
“I understand, Lando, but lashing out won't change anything, you said gently, placing a comforting hand on his arm, relieved when he finally started walking away.
"I just feel so helpless," Lando admitted, his shoulders slumping with defeat.
"You're not helpless, Lando. You're just taking a moment to process everything," you reassured him, placing a gentle kiss against his lips.
"It's just hard to stay positive when everything feels like it's falling apart," Lando confessed, his usual optimism dimmed by disappointment. "I just hate feeling like I'm at the mercy of circumstances.”
"I know, love. But remember, you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out together," you assured him, intertwining your fingers with his. “You, me and the team. He’s going to face penalties anyway.”
"I just wish I could turn back time and avoid that collision," He sighed, letting you drag him to a park nearby for a walk.
"I understand, love. But dwelling on what could have been won't change the present. Let's focus on what we can do now," you suggested, leading him away from the chaos of the race track.
"But what if this affects my standings in the championship?" He wondered aloud, his brow furrowing with worry, a pout evident on his face.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, babe. Right now, let's focus on taking care of you," you said, your voice filled with determination. "Let's just take this walk and clear our heads, okay? If you still want to talk to him later, I’ll support you."
He was extremely grateful that you pulled him away at the time because not even an hour later, the rookie approached him and apologized for his mistake.
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