One Shots | Formula 1

CL✩

"You need to relax."

Charles paces back and forth across the sleek, modern driver's waiting room, as I watch him with a mix of concern and admiration. His usual confidence seems tinged with an extra edge of nervous energy today, his movements more restless, his brow furrowed in concentration. We're just an hour away from the start of the Miami Grand Prix, and the tension in the air is palpable.

I sink deeper into the plush sofa, my gaze fixed on him. This week has been particularly intense for Charles. The weight of expectation from the team, the pressure to deliver results—it's all been bearing down on him with a relentless force. And as his girlfriend, I can't help but feel it too, every twist and turn of his emotions mirrored in my own heart.

I've seen him in moments of triumph, his smile lighting up the room as he stands atop the podium, the embodiment of victory. But I've also seen him in moments of doubt, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders, threatening to crush his spirit.

Today is one of those days, the stakes higher than ever before. The Miami Grand Prix might just another race— but it's a chance for Charles to prove himself, to show the world what he's made of. And with the eyes of the racing world upon him, the pressure is at an all-time high.

As he paces, I can't help but admire the way he carries himself, the determination in every step, the fire burning bright in his eyes. He's a force to be reckoned with, a true master of his craft. But beneath that confident exterior, I can see the flicker of uncertainty, the fear of failure lurking in the shadows.

I want to reach out to him, to offer him some measure of comfort, but I know that this is something he has to face alone. Racing is his passion, his lifeblood, and in moments like these, he's in a world of his own, a world where only he can tread.

Feeling a surge of determination, I rise from the sofa, my movements purposeful as I step into Charles's path, effectively halting his pacing. He looks at me, surprise flickering in his eyes before a small smile plays at the corners of his lips.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of gratitude.

I return his smile, my heart swelling with affection. "Hey yourself. You need to relax, Charles. You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that."

He chuckles, a low, melodic sound that sends a shiver down my spine. "I can't help it, babe. The nerves are getting to me."

I reach out, gently cupping his face in my hands, my thumbs stroking his cheeks in a soothing gesture. "I know, but you've got this. You're the best driver out there, remember?"

He leans into my touch, his eyes closing briefly before he meets my gaze once more. "Thanks, love. I needed that."

I smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, a silent reassurance of my unwavering support. As I pull back, an idea sparks in my mind, a way to distract him from the mounting pressure of the race.

"Hey, how about I give you a massage?" I suggest, watching his expression closely for any sign of hesitation.

His eyes widen in surprise, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "A massage?"

I nod, a mischievous grin tugging at my lips. "Yeah, why not? It'll help you relax, take your mind off things."

He hesitates for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes before he nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "Okay, sure. That sounds amazing, actually."

I guide Charles to the sofa, his eyes glint with a mix of gratitude and anticipation. The weight of the impending race still lingers in the air, but there's a newfound sense of relaxation settling over him, a calmness born from the touch of my hands.