---
The roar of engines filled the air as the Monaco Grand Prix surged to life. The sun gleamed off the slick streets of Monte Carlo, casting long shadows over the winding track. Y/N stood by the pit lane, her heart pounding in sync with the pulsating energy of the race. She had covered every Grand Prix this season, each interview, each race bringing her closer to the man she never expected to fall for: Pierre Gasly.
Pierre was in third place, the sharp corners of Monaco testing his skill and focus. She watched as his car maneuvered with precision, her eyes tracing every movement. The other journalists around her were frantically taking notes, but Y/N stood still, her mind drifting to the moments they'd shared off the track—the late-night conversations about their dreams, his vulnerability when speaking about the pressures of Formula 1, and the quiet moments where neither spoke, yet everything was said.
He had let her in, even when she promised herself she wouldn’t cross that line. But it happened, slowly, like a storm creeping up on a calm sea.
---
Six months earlier
Y/N had first met Pierre at the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya, where the season had kicked off. She’d been tasked with following him for an in-depth feature, one that would span the entirety of the season. She had interviewed drivers before, but Pierre was different. There was something magnetic about him—his determination, his hunger to prove himself after his fall from Red Bull. But beneath the competitive edge, Y/N saw someone human. Flawed, like everyone else.
“Why do you do this?” Y/N had asked him during one of their first interviews, sitting in the Alpine garage after a day of testing.
He shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I love it. The speed, the adrenaline, the challenge. But it’s also about proving that I belong here.” There was a pause before he added quietly, “I don’t want to be remembered as the guy who failed.”
That was when Y/N had seen the cracks in his armor—the vulnerability he hid from the world. And somehow, in those cracks, she found herself drawn to him.
---
Now, standing in the pit lane as Pierre fought for the podium, Y/N couldn’t shake the heaviness in her chest. The article she had written—a deep, personal look into Pierre’s journey—was set to publish the moment the race ended. It was her best work, but it was also deeply personal. She had written about Pierre not just as a driver, but as the man she had come to know behind the visor. Her editor had called it raw, unflinching. It was the story every journalist dreamed of writing. But at what cost?
The more time she spent with him, the more the lines between work and personal life blurred. What had started as professional curiosity had grown into something neither of them expected. And now, she was about to expose his most intimate fears to the world, knowing it might ruin everything between them.
She gripped the edge of the rail, watching as Pierre overtook the car in front of him, moving into second place. Her breath hitched as he flew through the tunnel, inching closer to victory. He had been chasing this moment for years—a podium at Monaco. The redemption he needed. But could she be the one to take it all away with a single article?
---
Two weeks earlier
They had been sitting on the balcony of his hotel in Milan, after the Italian Grand Prix. The night was warm, the city lights twinkling in the distance. Pierre was unusually quiet, staring out at the skyline.
“Do you ever wonder if it’s all worth it?” he asked softly.
Y/N looked at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The pressure, the constant need to prove myself. Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough. The media paints me as either a hero or a failure, and there’s no in-between.”
She had felt a pang in her chest then, realizing how much weight he carried. And here she was, part of that same media machine, ready to dissect him in her story. “You are enough, Pierre,” she had said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He had turned to her then, his eyes searching hers. “Am I?”
And in that moment, she had kissed him, hoping to give him the answer she couldn’t put into words.
---
Back in Monaco, Y/N’s heart raced as Pierre crossed the final lap, his car now in second place, just behind the leader. The finish line was within reach.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket—a reminder that her article was set to go live in minutes. She felt a lump form in her throat, torn between the story she had written and the man she had fallen for. She knew that once the article was out, it would change everything. Pierre’s team, the media, even the public—everyone would see him in a new light. Would he forgive her? Would he understand that she had tried to balance honesty with compassion?
Pierre took the final corner, pushing his car to the limit. The checkered flag waved in the distance, and Y/N held her breath. He crossed the line in second place—a career-defining finish, but not the victory he had so desperately wanted.
The crowd erupted in cheers, and Y/N felt the weight of her decision crash down on her. The bittersweet taste of victory hung in the air. Pierre had made it, but she knew they wouldn’t.
Her phone vibrated again. The article was live.
As the celebrations began around her, Y/N watched Pierre climb out of his car, the joy on his face undeniable. For a moment, their eyes met across the track. He smiled at her, unaware of what was coming.
And in that fleeting moment, she realized that some victories came at a cost—and love, no matter how real, sometimes wasn’t enough to cross the finish line together.
