Storysong: Taylor Swift - Blank Space
Y/N was known throughout the paddock as one of the fiercest competitors on the grid. As the first female driver in Formula 1 in years, she had a lot to prove, and she did so with every race. She was quick, skilled, and relentless. But beyond the helmet and the race suit, there was a side of Y/N that the world didn't see—a side that longed for something more than just the thrill of speed. However, after years of racing, Y/N had learned to guard her heart as fiercely as she fought for pole position.
Pierre Gasly had always admired Y/N from afar. As one of the most charming and popular drivers on the grid, Pierre was used to attention, but Y/N was different. She wasn’t like the others—she wasn’t there for the fame or the glamour. She was there to win, and Pierre respected that. But there was something else about her that intrigued him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps it was the way she seemed untouchable, her emotions locked away behind a wall of determination.
Their paths had crossed many times, on and off the track, but it wasn’t until the Monaco Grand Prix weekend that Pierre decided to make his move. The glitz and glamour of Monaco were in full swing, and the paddock was buzzing with energy. Pierre knew it was risky, but he had never been one to shy away from a challenge. After all, he was a racer, and racers took risks.
That evening, the teams were hosting a party on a luxurious yacht anchored in the Monte Carlo harbor. The lights of Monaco reflected off the water, casting a golden glow over everything. Y/N had arrived late, her mind still on the qualifying session earlier that day. She had secured a solid P3, but she knew she could do better. Her focus had been so intense that she hadn’t noticed Pierre watching her from across the room.
Pierre approached her with that trademark smile, the one that could melt hearts and disarm even the coldest of personalities. “Hey, Y/N,” he said casually, as if this were just another conversation between friends.
Y/N looked up, surprised to see him standing there. She was used to drivers trying to get close, but Pierre was different. He had a reputation for being charming, sure, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that caught her off guard.
“Pierre,” she greeted him, her tone neutral. “Enjoying the party?”
“I am now,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locking onto hers. “You look like you could use a break, though. How about a drink?”
Y/N hesitated. She wasn’t one to mix business with pleasure, and the world of F1 was already complicated enough. But there was something about Pierre—maybe it was the way he seemed genuinely interested, or maybe it was just that she was tired of being so guarded all the time.
“Alright,” she agreed, surprising herself. “Just one.”
Pierre’s smile widened as he led her to the bar. They talked about the race, their strategies, and their experiences in the sport. It was light, easy, and for once, Y/N felt like she could relax. But there was an undercurrent to their conversation, a tension that neither of them acknowledged, but both could feel.
As the night wore on, the conversation turned more personal. Pierre asked her about her life outside of racing, her dreams, and what drove her. Y/N found herself opening up more than she intended, sharing pieces of herself that she usually kept hidden.
“You’re not like the others,” Pierre said, his tone serious now. “You’re different.”
Y/N laughed softly, but there was a hint of bitterness in her voice. “Different isn’t always a good thing in this world, Pierre.”
“But it is with you,” he insisted, his gaze intense. “You’ve built these walls around yourself, but I see what’s behind them.”
Y/N felt a jolt of fear and excitement. Pierre was getting too close, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. “And what do you think you see?”
