#i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more

[twirlyleafs]

“Reckless.”

Charles Leclerc x driver! Reader

TW: mention of death, fighting

~~~~

“What the hell was that?”

Charles’ angry voice cut through the hum of your garage like a whip, startling you enough to make you spin around to face him. You hadn’t expected him to be here this fast, you’d barely gotten out of the car, but then again maybe you should have. You knew he’d be angry considering the intense qualifying session where you’d wrung every last bit out of your car—and yourself. In those final two laps, you’d driven with reckless precision, pressing Alonso so hard in the corners that he’d had to back off to not risk contact. It wasn’t exactly clean racing, but it had earned you a spot on the second row. Fourth on the grid, your best start all season. The best you would probably be able to get out of your car. But as satisfying as it was, you knew that Charles would have something to say about it.

“Keep your voice down, Charles.” You muttered while unzipping the top half of your suit, hoping you could brush this off before it turned into a scene. Charles wasn’t having it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him, jaw clenched, his hands slicing through the air as he spoke, disbelief radiating off him.

“Keep my voice—are you serious? What’s your problem? That overtake was reckless. Fernando was barely an inch away from accidentally sending you flying into the wall!”

“Calm down.” You shot him a look as you brushed past him, hoping he’d drop it if you just kept walking. But Charles scoffed, immediately following you, his tone hard and unforgiving.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I was right behind you! I saw the way you went in—God, you’re just lucky it was Alonso and not one of the rookies. That could’ve been a disaster.” Charles was relentless, his words chasing you all the way to your driver’s room. Your fists were clenched, nails digging into your palms as you worked to keep your own frustration under control. You knew his worry came from a place of love, but right now, it felt like he was questioning you as a driver, as if he didn’t trust you to know what you were doing. And that stung more than you cared to admit. Once the door shut behind you both, his words softened, though they still held an edge. “What were you thinking out there?”

You let out a heavy breath, finally turning to meet his gaze. “I was thinking about getting a decent starting position. I wanted-“

“You don’t risk everything for a good position!” he interrupted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Have you talked to Fernando? He’s probably fuming! If that had been me in his shoes, I would’ve lost it—”

“Good thing it wasn’t you, then.” You snapped, turning your back on him as you began unzipping the rest of your suit. It felt safer to face the wall, where he couldn’t see the raw mix of emotions that tightened your throat and threatened to spill over. “You don’t get it, Charles. You have a team, a car, a contract. You have a future. A name. I’m fighting for scraps, like every shot is the last one I’ll get.”

He fell silent and for a moment you thought he might back down, let you have this small victory. But his voice cut through the quiet, low and sharp. “Maybe I don’t get it. But I do get that you’re pushing yourself too far. And one day it won’t just be a scare. You’ll get hurt.”

“Yeah, well, I can handle myself.” You retorted as you turned to face him, your gaze defiant. “I knew what I was doing with Alonso. I wouldn’t have tried it with one of the rookies, I knew they couldn’t handle that.”

“Can you?” His eyes held a look you rarely saw, a mixture of frustration, fear, and maybe even doubt. “Can you handle it, Y/N? Because from where I’m standing, that looked less like confidence and more like…like desperation.” His words hit you like a slap, hurting more than you wanted to admit. Was it desperation? Maybe there was some truth in that, but you weren’t about to let him see you flinch. Not when he didn’t understand what it was like to constantly have to prove yourself, to feel every race could be your last if you didn’t show results.

“Are you calling me a bad driver Charles?” You asked, the challenge clear in your tone. He ran a hand over his face, sighing in exasperation.

“I’m calling you reckless. Stupid, even. You could be amazing, I know you’re amazing, but you keep pulling moves like this and I’m just scared it’s going to end in disaster.”

You swallowed, ignoring the sting of his words. “I can’t afford to play it safe, Charles. You wouldn’t get it, you don’t have to get it. You’re in a car that could win a championship. I’m just trying to prove I belong here.” For a moment, he looked as if he was about to argue, his eyes narrowing with the usual stubbornness you knew too well. But instead, he just shook his head, stepping back, disappointment flickering in his gaze. He lingered for a moment, his gaze softened, as if he wanted to reach out but held himself back. Then he turned, leaving the room as quickly as he’d entered, his words hanging in the air, heavy and unshakable. You stood alone, the silence pressing down on you, and no matter how much you wanted to brush it off his words kept echoing in your mind.

The hours dragged on, the buzz of qualifying still lingering as you were pulled from one interview to the next. You smiled for the cameras, deflected the sharpest questions, and managed to shrug off any mention of that heated moment with Alonso. But under the surface, your mind churned with the memory of your earlier fight with Charles. His words still echoed in your head, gnawing at you in a way you couldn’t shake. Reckless. Desperate. You’d been called a lot of things, but hearing it from him hurt like hell. It was late when you finally reached the hotel, the quiet of the lobby a stark contrast to the noisy paddock. The tension in your shoulders was nearly unbearable as you made your way up to your room, the thought of sleep the only thing keeping you moving forward. When you unlocked the door and stepped inside Charles was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze flicking up from his phone when you entered. He looked worn, the earlier fire in his eyes now replaced with something gentler, but equally intense. You felt your heart skip, torn between relief and irritation as the weight of your argument settled heavily in the air between you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, watching you as you set down your things.

“Hey.” You shrugged off your jacket, avoiding his gaze, the room feeling too small, too charged. Silence hung thickly for a moment before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” he began, a slight hesitance in his voice. “For showing up like that. I shouldn’t have come into your garage and… yelled at you. That was out of line.”

You nodded, acknowledging his apology but not yet ready to let go of the frustration simmering beneath your skin. Slowly making your way across the room you stopped by the dresser to remove your jewelry, plopping your watch and bracelet down on the cold surface before turning around to look at him again. “You still think I’m reckless? Stupid?” Your voice was calm, even as your heart pounded in your chest. Charles looked down, rubbing his hands together as he seemed to weigh his words.

“Yes. I do. I think you’re incredible out there, but sometimes…” He paused, looking up at you, his eyes soft yet resolute. “Sometimes it scares me. Seeing you push so hard, knowing one wrong move could just, you know, just end everything.”

You sighed, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the dresser. “Charles, I’m fighting for my career. Every weekend, every race—it’s not just about points or a title chance. It’s about proving that I belong here, that I’m not just some driver filling space at the back of the grid.” You hesitated, struggling to put into words what you’d felt for so long. “I don’t have the luxury of playing it safe.”

“And you think I don’t get that?” His voice rose, a hint of frustration slipping back in. “I know what it’s like to fight, to have to prove myself. You think Ferrari didn’t make me feel like I had to earn my place every damn time I got in that car?”

You scoffed, feeling a flicker of bitterness as you met his gaze. “It’s different, Charles. You still always had the team behind you. A car that can get you to the podium on strategy alone. I don’t have that. I have to be better. I have to take risks.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t fight.” His voice was softer now. “But not at the cost of your safety. There’s a difference between fighting and driving like there’s nothing left to lose.”

You felt a flash of anger, his words hitting a raw nerve. “Maybe I don’t see a difference because I don’t have anything to lose, Charles. I’m already at the back. Already being picked apart by the media trying to prove women don’t belong here. That I don’t belong here. A good result like this might be the only thing keeping me on the grid next season.” Your voice wavered as you continued, the weight of your own words settling heavy on your chest. “Maybe I can’t afford to think about what I have to lose.” At that Charles expression softened, his eyes searching your face.

“And what about me? What if I lose you? Maybe you don’t see it that way, but to me you are the most important thing in this equation.” His words struck you like a blow and for the first time you felt the edges of your anger soften, giving way to something deeper and more vulnerable. You let out a breath, your gaze dropping to the floor as the truth of it all began to settle between you. You swallowed, feeling the prick of tears in your eyes but refusing to let them fall.

“You have to let me fight. Even if it scares you. Because I can’t be the driver I need to be if I’m holding back just to make everyone else feel safe.” Even with your eyes trained on the floor you noted Charles getting up, moving across the room towards you. The ache in your chest reached its peak when his hands carefully found your arms, slowly stroking down them until he could grip your hands in his. He sighed, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles.

“I don’t want you to hold back. I’d never ask that of you, I just-“ he paused and you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. “I just want you to be careful. To remember that you can get to where you wanna be without dying on the way. Baby I want you to have everything, I think you deserve everything and I’m here for you, as long as you don’t disappear on me.” The last of your frustration melted away as you let out a shaky breath, leaning into his embrace. The second Charles noticed you moving closer he dropped your hands, wrapping his arms around you instead. Tucking your head against the crook of his neck you let out a deep sigh, nodding slowly.

“I get it. I get what you’re saying. It’s just hard to think like that when I’m out there, seeing my chances slip away.”

“I know.”

“But I’ll try.” You whispered, the words more of a promise to yourself than to him. “I’ll try to be careful. But I need you to understand that sometimes, this is just how it has to be. It’s the only way I know.” You felt Charles nod, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses against the top of your head. You shuffled closer, letting your arms wrap around his torso as his tightened around your frame, grounding you in the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. “You won’t lose me.” You murmured against his shoulder, the words both a promise and a hope. Charles held you close, his lips pressing gently to your temple as you both stood in the quiet of the room, letting the tension and hurt melt away. And for a while, neither of you said anything more, content just to hold each other, finding a fragile peace in the shared silence. Tomorrow, you’d be back on the track, fighting just as hard. But tonight, you were simply here, together.

[ruffaloon]

Hawkeye & BJ | No Big Deal (I Love You)

these two make me sick. here's a fanvid about all the things they can't help but leave unsaid.

[yrsonpurpose]

This scene is such a pivotal moment in the film but also in their relationship.

[ulgapodatkowa]

cry all you want but at the end of the day I am forever and always a slut for "the confession comes from the seemingly less emotional one of the two" trope and I will watch it again and again to devour it properly

[introspectivememories]

too many of you guys think nico is the loser and not lewis for letting the divorce go on for so long. like they're both losers about each other. emotionally constipated idiots who can't talk about their toxic homoerotic friendship that imploded on itself like 8 years ago and are now making it everyone else's problem. yeah nico's on television or in beer gardens talking about lewis all the time but like every other month some reporter is like "lewis, what's your favorite moment in your career?" and lewis no hesitation is like "oh man, karting, y'know? everything was simpler then" and then spends another six months skirting around nico's name. like this whole thing they're doing in the media isn't some kinda extended foreplay for them. they're both still pressing on the bruise to make sure it's still there!!! every few months, they're literally just asking on public television, does it still hurt for you like it does for me? and like clockwork, someone will release new information about them or one of them will say something about each other (in my heart, he's still my best friend/yes... and teammate) and the answer will remain the same, yes, of course, always.

[jimmyspades]

she looks like the real thing she tastes like the real thing my fake plastic love

[gayofthefae]

The entire show: Mike is good at telling the truth and bad at lying Mike is good at telling the truth and bad at lying Mike is good at telling the truth and bad at lying

Mike: can't tell El he loves her

Everyone: it's so sad how he can't tell her because it's just too true

[marlokelly]

i am like obsessed with the way christina ricci always describes misty with such a finality. “she knows no one’s ever going to like her” and “isn’t capable of being the best version of herself”. and by obsessed i mean it makes me miserable.

[fangwhoria]

yayyyyy buck!!!! yay!!!!!!!! hes found his forever home!!! yippee!!!!!!

[buckysteve]

another thing about the both men saying “i’m gonna say something that’s gonna make you angry.” parallel is how they both basically talk about the same thing. about art wanting to retire. patrick knows. all those years apart, probably keeping up with art’s career and he knows. he still understands him. and how tashi is easier for him to approach for some reason and he doesn’t fear her rejection and it kind of excites him but with art he can’t handle it and he’s gutted by it.

[drunkeddiediaz]

Louis doesn’t want to call them companions but can say I love you easily. Inch resting…

[lostandbackagain]

he's afraid of death. he wants to die sometimes. he's good with animals; not his own. he's good with kids; not his own. he makes nonviolence a flaw. he's a judgmental bitch. his sense of danger is on a ten second delay. he's a coward. he loves his wife so much his legs give out when he sees her. he cheated on her. he hates the powerful. he'll sell his morals for community. he's gullible. he won't gatekeep magic, even from his enemies. he "doesn't do magic." he's nosy as hell. he swears constantly. he will always get into fights with children. he will always lose. he hates cages in all forms. he has never verbalized a thought correctly.

[bethanydelleman]

Shakespeare 🤝 Jane Austen

Believing genuine love and happiness produce silence, not eloquence.

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.

- Claudio, Much Ado About Nothing

“I cannot make speeches, Emma:” he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing.—“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

- Mr. Knightley, Emma

Had she ever given way to bursts of delight, it must have been then, for she was delighted, but her happiness was of a quiet, deep, heart-swelling sort; and though never a great talker, she was always more inclined to silence when feeling most strongly... but still there were emotions of tenderness that could not be clothed in words.

-Fanny Price, Mansfield Park

[guccigarantine]

thank you palisade thank you friends at the table thank you for ten years thank you for everything

[blessicablimpson]

Excess Baggage (1997) dir. Marco Brambilla

[everysongineverykey]

but listen!!! gabriel clutching his chest upon seeing beelzebub again!! the way he's always ALWAYS turned up his nose at human rituals like eating and drinking and doesn't understand childbirth or music and scoffs at aziraphale for engaging in human tradition so much and the way he probably doesn't even HAVE a heart- wouldn't bother- and yet when he looks at them he just can't help but put his hands where his heart would be. FUCKED UP!!!