#piarles fanfiction
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how could i leave you (without a chance to try?)
fic - WIP // playlist
Pierre and Charles have somehow lost their way. Between World Championships and an impending retirement, their once solid marriage feels wobbly.
Feat: meddling George, competitive tomfoolery, and alphabet dating all over the world.
HELLO EVERYONE! WELCOME TO THE 2024 SEASON! 💖 @duquesademiel @wolfiemcwolferson and I have made this wonderful fic and will be updating it before every race, so we hope you join us for this ride 🫶🏽
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We Said Friends Forever, But I Made Myself a Stranger
Rating: Teen
Fandom: Formula 1
Individuals: Pierre Gasly, Charles Leclerc, Christian Horner, Max Verstappen
Tags: alternate universe, angst, self-doubt/imposter syndrome, working too hard to escape your problems and as a form of self-punishment, somewhat self-destructive behavior, depression probably, 2019 F1 Season, 2020 F1 season, Piarles if you squint, mentions of covid quarantine
Word Count: 11,672
Playlist: Spotify
Summary: Pierre and Charles have been best friends for almost as long as either of them can remember, but as time goes on, Pierre feels them slipping further and further apart as Charles’ stars continue to rise as his own remains the same.
Notes: This fic very loosely follows the early part of Charles' time with Ferrari but instead of being a Toro Rosso and Red Bull driver, Pierre is a sim and reserve driver for RBR.
At the end, there’s mentions of covid as it pertains to the 2020 season (delay to the start of the season, quarantine, mask wearing, no fans at races etc.), so just a heads up!
Read on Ao3 Instead
September 2019
Italian Grand Prix; Monza, Italy
Pierre watched from the crowded Monza pit lane as, for the second time in two races, Charles stood proudly on the middle step of the podium, his eyes shining brightly as he hoisted his first place trophy up in the air, the Tifosi in the stands screaming and setting off cans of red colored smoke in celebration, flags emblazoned with the prancing horse waving freely. His heart ached, the pride he felt for his best friend unable to outweigh the wish that he was the one up there celebrating, that he was the one Hamilton and Bottas were soaking with champagne. Instead, Pierre was the lone Red Bull employee standing behind a pack of Mercedes staff who were cheering for their drivers as they relished in the satisfying feeling of a job well done.
As the drivers traipsed off the podium and their assembled teams began to disperse, Pierre made his way back to the Red Bull garage, head down. He knew that some kind of lecture from Horner to the rest of the team was imminent, especially after such a mixed result, but being able to see his best friend celebrate a victory in person was more than worth it.
As a sim driver for Red Bull, Pierre spent most race weekends at the factory, where he tested various setups in various scenarios and relayed his feedback to the team, but it meant that he was rarely able to spend a weekend at the track. As such, he'd missed Charles' maiden victory, having watched the celebration from the race day command center with the other factory employees who provided support to the onsite staff. But despite the separation, as soon as the on screen celebrations had concluded, Pierre was on the first flight to Nice, not caring about the cost of the ticket or the cab ride to Charles' Monaco apartment where he waited patiently on the doorstep until his best friend returned.
The pair had celebrated into the early morning, finishing off the bottle of champagne Pierre had picked up at the airport and a bottle of wine from Charles' kitchen as they chatted about the race until the sun had risen, the light reflecting brightly off the water as they made their way to bed. It was only as Pierre was grabbing his stuff to drag into the guest room did Charles say the words that still echoed in Pierre's mind, haunting him weeks later. "It'll be you up there one day, Calamar."
Pierre and Charles had grown up together, two kids with bad haircuts and the same dream. Although they were fierce competitors on track, they were even better friends off it and they rose through the ranks together, trading wins in karting races, before making their way through F3 and F2 together, always by each other's side, always inseparable.
But, in 2017, things began to change. Charles got the call that he would be joining Sauber's F1 Team for the following year with the unspoken promise that if he performed well, one day he could find himself in one of the coveted Ferrari seats, the bright red iconic even to those who knew nothing about racing. For Pierre, his only chance to drive an F1 car came from his stint as a test driver during pre-season testing before heading off to Japan to compete in Super Formula.
However, even after a successful season in the lower category, the call that came wasn’t the one Pierre wanted. He did his best to hide his disappointment when Helmut had told him that there weren’t enough seats and Pierre would be sidelined yet again, and instead they wanted him to move to Milton Keynes to work as a sim driver. Despite being worried that the new role would be detrimental to his career long term, he accepted after a week of weighing the pros and cons, praying that a close connection to the F1 team would pay off in the long run.
By 2018, Charles had moved to a top team and was the rising star for Ferrari, their Il predestinato, bringing with it the promise of Ferrari's return to dominance after so many years spent behind Mercedes and Red Bull. And Pierre, well, it seemed like his dreams of even getting back on track were slipping away.
F1 celebrations were something Pierre hoped he never got used to, but he wouldn’t deny how awkward he’d felt arriving at the venue Charles had invited him to a few hours before. Ferrari’s staff and guests had taken over the VIP section of the club, the more secluded area somehow noisier than the crowded dance floor as the alcohol flowed freely. Winning was always fun, but winning at your home race with a promising young talent like Charles, who was poised to become the new face of Ferrari, meant the team was in high spirits and celebrating hard.
Charles had greeted Pierre loudly when he’d seen him, the young man extracting himself from a conversation with a small group to hug his best friend, a drunk Charles clinging tightly to Pierre as he chattered about how happy he was Pierre was there and how excited he was to celebrate together. But soon enough, Charles was swept away by members of his team who wanted to celebrate with their race winner and Pierre was left alone, watching from a distance.
Pierre left the club just after midnight, leaving behind a drunk Charles who was still surrounded by a handful of members of his team and an assortment of admirers who were willing to do whatever it took to get close enough to bask in Charles’ aura. He opted to walk back to the hotel Red Bull were staying at instead of taking an Uber, the cool night air pushing away the last hazy remnants of a night of celebration. He hadn’t really partaken in the bottles of champagne and shots of various liquors that had been in steady supply that night and had remained fairly sober despite the fact that everyone around him was happy to drink in honor of Charles’ victory. As a result, his mind was clear as he walked through the quiet streets of Monza, the stillness of the night only interrupted by passing groups of people, their laughter fading away as Pierre continued through the city.
His room was quiet, lights from the street below softly illuminating the furniture, the faint light guiding Pierre as he made his way over to the bed, the Frenchman not bothering to turn on the bedside lamp. He was exhausted, but knew with how his mind was racing that sleep was going to evade him again. It had felt good to celebrate with his friend, but the selfish part of him had wished that Charles had finished in any place other than first. The fact that it was Charles’ second win, one of many that was expected to come, meant that the veneer of winning hadn’t worn off just yet; couple that with the fact that it was his second win in two races and that it was Ferrari’s home race meant that the post-race celebration was wilder that usual, even by F1 standards.
The rational part of Pierre’s mind knew that Charles deserved this, that Charles deserved everything, but to witness his best friend accomplishing everything they’d ever dreamed of first hand made Pierre’s heart ache with a jealousy that had no place in the midst of such a joyous occasion. But jealousy was a nasty thing and instead of continuing the celebration into the early morning, Pierre was sitting at the edge of his bed, head in his hands, once again lost in thoughts of what could have been.
Twenty-three wasn’t old by any means, but with every passing season, the chances of Pierre getting a chance at an F1 drive were getting slimmer and slimmer. Rookies were getting younger every year, teams were putting their faith in younger drivers thanks to the success of drivers like Max and Charles, and Pierre knew that there was a promising group of Red Bull Academy drivers who were gunning for the same seat Pierre sought. His chances at a seat with another team were even slimmer, most had their own driver academies and even if a seat became available, it was doubtful any team would take their chance on an unproven talent without serious scrutiny.
Pierre told himself that he just needed to keep working hard, needed to prove his worth and that eventually an opportunity would come. But late at night, when self-doubt had firmly settled into the furthest corners of Pierre’s mind, he knew that he wasn’t good enough for Red Bull, he wasn’t good enough for Formula 1.
He wasn’t good enough for Charles.
And here, alone in a hotel room in Milan with the weight of his dream threatening to tear him apart from the inside, he wondered whether it was time to find something else.
The rest of the season continued to pass with little deviation from Pierre’s regular routine. Races came and went with him doing whatever he could from behind the scenes to help the team be successful, but as it became clearer and clearer that there was little hope for Red Bull to catch Ferrari in the Constructors Championship, he spent less time testing various setups for Max and Alex to use during race weekends and switched his focus to testing concepts for next season’s car.
Long hours in the simulator left Pierre exhausted. Sim work wasn’t nearly as exhilarating as throwing a real car around tight corners or sending the car hurtling down impossibly long straights despite the ever evolving technology that made the experience more and more realistic and the nature of the work meant he went through more set up changes in a few hours than any driver experienced during a weekend, leaving him mentally drained by the time he left the factory for his Milton Keynes flat.
With every passing day, the self-doubt that had intensified after Monza threatened to consume him and the rare compliment from Christian or Max’s praise for his work during meetings did little to reassure him that he did belong here, that he was worthy of some kind of role within the team, even if it wasn’t the one, he so desperately wanted.
Subconsciously, he began to withdraw, throwing himself into work, into doing whatever he could to prove his worth. Weekdays were spent working to get everything perfect, running scenarios over and over again until he was able to pull whatever he could from the car, while off weekends found Pierre in the gym or running along Caldecotte Lake until his lungs burned and his muscles felt like jelly. By night, he was too tired to do anything more than throw together a quick dinner before collapsing in bed with exhaustion, only to wake up and do it all again.
His mother expressed concern one day over the phone, mentioning to Pierre that one of his brothers had told her that he hadn’t reached out lately, unusual for Pierre as his family was the most important thing, but he brushed her off, using the excuse that he was being worked harder than ever (true) and once the season was over, he’d have a chance to take a break (half true). The excuse had worked for now and she’d bid Pierre good bye with a plea that he not work himself too hard and he agreed with no intention to keep his promise.
Texts from Charles went mostly unanswered, his best friend sending him photos from various circuits or funny memes that encapsulated their relationship perfectly. In return, Pierre only responded when necessary to ensure that Charles wouldn’t get suspicious and ask if something was up; Pierre had always been a bad liar, especially when it came to Charles, so it was easier to pretend like everything was fine when in reality, for the first time, Pierre just wanted Charles to leave him alone.
Maintaining the charade was easier than it should have been, the success Charles had had all year continuing as the season began to wind down, making him a hotter and hotter commodity with little time for his mostly anonymous best friend. While Charles was out basking in the glory of success with one of the top teams in Formula 1, Pierre was struggling to not drown in his own self-doubt and while his motives for keeping Charles at arm’s length were selfish, he also didn’t want to bring down his best friend when he was deservedly relishing in everything life had to offer.
But despite how well Pierre was able to keep his issues under wraps, it all threatened to fall apart at the last race of the season. Aside from the usual race weekend prep work, there was little that needed to be done that couldn’t be pushed back until after the season’s end, which meant that as soon as the week was over, Pierre was on a flight to Abu Dhabi. There was little at stake that weekend, Mercedes had taken both the Drivers and Constructors Championship a few races before and so long as Max finished ahead of Charles in the race, he’d be guaranteed 3rd place in the Drivers’ standings, achieving his best finish of his career. Things had been so bad lately that Pierre had considered skipping the last race all together, but despite all his personal problems, he was still a racecar driver at heart and didn't want to pass up the opportunity to watch the race from the garage.
It was hard to quiet the voice in the back of his head that whispered that this might be his last race as an F1 employee. The team was happy with his work and even if it were a mere facsimile of what he wanted to be doing, he was still a valuable resource that wasn't easily replaced. Rationally he knew that there was little chance he’d be let go at the end of the season, but even the most straightforward logic was no match against one’s own self-doubt, and Pierre rationalized his thinking by convincing himself that being surprised was better than hoping for something and ending up disappointed.
December 2019
Abu Dhabi Grand Prix; Yas Island, Abu Dhabi
Pierre arrived late enough in the evening that all there was time for was a quick check in with Christian before heading up to his room. Max had sent him a message asking him if he wanted to play FIFA when he got in, but Pierre had declined, giving the excuse that he didn’t want to disrupt Max’s pre-race routine despite knowing that Max didn’t strictly prescribe to such measures like most of the other drivers. For the same reasons, Pierre didn’t bother to text Charles to let him know that he was also in Abu Dhabi, knowing that his own presence would probably be a distraction. There would be plenty of time after the race for them to catch up.
The lead up to lights out was uneventful for Pierre, who spent most of the afternoon chatting with Alex and Max during their downtime between meetings and press obligations before they had to retreat to get ready for the race.
The race itself was fairly uneventful, but there was a buzz in the garage after the podium ceremony, the energy distinctly distinguishable from the normal post race chatter. Max’s second place finish secured his third place finish in the Driver’s standings, the highest finish for a Red Bull driver since Daniel three seasons prior. That success coupled with the relief that the long season was finally over was palpable as the mechanics and pit crew chatted about their off seasons plans as they packed up the garage.
Once the last of the post race photos had been taken, Pierre made his way back to Red Bull Energy Station, weaving his way around various members of the paddock and carts of equipment, not in any hurry to get out of there and end up in the post race traffic that flooded the area as fans made their way away from the circuit. On a normal day, most of the crowds and cars would have dissipated by the time Pierre was ready to leave, the lengthy post race debriefs every team conducted ensuring that even the most dedicated fans would have made their way home by the time their favorite drivers left. But today, there was little need for such a meeting, not when it was the end of the season and the new year would bring a new car and new challenges. No, instead, Pierre was all but dragging his feet not wanting to be alone with his thoughts.
He almost didn’t hear the shouting of his name until he was almost to the glass doors that were the only thing separating him from the chaos of the paddock and temporary salvation. “Pierre, wait!”
A hand closed around his elbow and he looked up to see Charles standing next to him, face still sticky with champagne from the podium celebration, red race suit mostly unzipped, the upper half hanging off his body, the only salvation he could find in the hot Abu Dhabi air.
Charles looked as exhausted as Pierre felt, but there was a relaxed look of satisfaction on his face. Pierre knew that he wasn’t satisfied knowing that third place in the standings had been in his grasp, he also knew that Charles could also see the big picture and would find his overall result at the end of the season a kind of victory itself. He’d proven that his promotion to Ferrari wasn’t premature and that he deserved to represent the future of the team.
“I didn’t know that you would be here this weekend,” he said, voice louder than usual as to be heard over the elevated noise of the paddock.
“I got in last night,” Pierre shrugged, glancing at Charles’ hand that was still wrapped around his elbow.
Charles let him go, frowning now, a look of hurt flashing in his eyes.
Normally the wounded look would have made Pierre’s heart lurch, he hated hurting Charles, his best friend had experienced too much pain for someone his age that he never wanted to be the one to ever add to Charles’ burden in anyway, but after the year he’d had, Pierre was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next week, even if it meant ditching his best friend.
“But you didn’t say anything,” Charles repeated earnestly, as if wanting to believe that Pierre wouldn’t have intentionally left him in the dark, not when it had been months since they’d seen each other and even longer since they’d had a proper conversation.
“I’m here for the team,” Pierre shrugged, for Max and Alex, hanging unsaid in the air between them and Charles took a step back, the look of hurt now reflected on his face, no longer fleeting but permanent.
Pierre knew that the rivalry between Charles and Max had fizzled out a long time ago, that the intense hatred that they felt for each other as kids, as rivals going head-to-head in go karts had turned into mutual respect as they had grown and matured as both drivers and people. But at the same time, hearing that your best friend had chosen someone other than you still stung and upon hearing this, Charles looked away, his hand nervously running through his hair.
Despite everything, Pierre still wasn’t that cruel and even in his exhausted state he didn’t want to permanently damage his relationship with Charles even if, in the moment, it would have given him some satisfaction to hurt Charles, to make him feel the pain that Pierre had been carrying around with him for months. But logic won out and he did his best to bury the feelings of inadequacy that had been plaguing him, instead, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t Charles’ fault that Pierre felt like a failure.
“I was going to text you after the race.” A lie, but not one so outrageous that would give Charles a reason to doubt him. His mother always told him that he had an honest face; maybe it was the product of being the youngest, the baby of the family, or maybe it was part of the endless optimism he used to have— a quality that he seems to have lost as he’d grown older, more jaded. “You wouldn’t have been able to see me until later anyway.”
That part was true. Between final strategy meetings, race prep, and the chaos of it being the last race of the season, coupled with the fact that Charles still had his final place in the standings to fight for, there was no way the two of them would have been able to spend any significant amount of time together; and even if they could, there’s no way either of their teams would have appreciated them hanging out, not with Charles and Max being so close in the championship.
Charles nodded, the look of hurt still on his face, but seemingly willing to accept Pierre’s excuse. “We must go out then,” he said, stepping back to make his leave. “Later of course.”
“Of course,” Pierre echoed despite the bone deep exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. There was the end of season party that Red Bull would be hosting too, but that would be so busy that he’d only need to make an appearance if he wanted to; be seen by all the right people before sneaking off to crash in his hotel room for a few hours before flying back to the UK. Most of the Red Bull staff would be so drunk that it really didn’t matter if he was there or not. He could sleep on the plane, use the time between Christmas and the new year to catch up on all the rest he’d missed out on over the last few months. He wouldn’t have much to do then, it would just be him alone with his thoughts.
Despite the bitterness and jealousy that had made a home in Pierre’s chest, Charles was still his best friend and he missed him. Missed the ease that came with knowing someone better than you knew yourself, the ease of being able to talk about anything or to sit in silence, both equally as comfortable. He missed the feeling of being known, of being understood, of being loved and appreciated unconditionally knowing that he didn’t need to keep proving over and over that he was worthy of that love and appreciation. But most of all, Pierre missed the silence that came with being with someone who knew you as well as Pierre and Charles knew each other. The thoughts of self-doubt, of uncertainty, it all went away when they were together because none of that was important so long as they were friends. Pierre wanted that feeling back, he just wasn’t sure if he was worthy of it.
“Dinner?” Charles suggested, briefly glancing over his shoulder at the chaos of the paddock behind him. He’ll be all but required to meet up with the rest of the team later to celebrate the end of the season; Pierre could come along if he wanted, but they both knew that he shouldn't if he wanted to remain in Horner and Marko's good graces.
Pierre nodded. “And drinks.”
Charles scoffed. “But of course, mate. That is a given.”
A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Pierre’s lips, the first in who knows how long, and the sensation made his cheeks burn at the exertion. “Text me when you’re finished.” He gestured generally at the paddock around them knowing that even though the season was now over, Charles probably had a million and one things to do before he left the track.
“Of course,” Charles repeated with a grin of his own before heading back toward the Ferrari motorhome.
Late December 2019
Red Bull Racing HQ; Milton Keynes, UK
Pierre was no stranger to Horner's office; he'd spent many days sitting in the brightly lit room with its big windows and photos of historic Red Bull moments hanging from the walls. The man behind the desk didn't have a commanding presence when you first looked at him, but looks were deceiving and in Pierre's experience, it never did anyone well to underestimate Christian Horner. He wasn’t as scary as dealing with a post race phone call from Helmut, Horner dealt with drivers on too regular of a basis to ever be an effective boss with such a domineering personality, but that didn’t mean he was a pushover. Not in the slightest.
No, this man could make or break Pierre’s career and he knew better than to cross him.
"We've been looking at the data," Horner began, sliding a tablet across his desk for Pierre to look at. Displayed on the screen was telemetry data that compared his sim times with the actual times of the two Toro Rosso drivers. He flipped through the graphs as Horner continued, "and you've done an excellent job in the sim, we'd like to give you the chance to prove yourself."
Pierre's head shot up, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but Horner said nothing, instead watching Pierre with that intense look, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Once he was sure he had Pierre's undecided attention, he continued. “A spot has opened up, and as part of Toro Rosso’s rebrand into Alpha Tauri, and we want to promote you into that seat.”
Horner was smiling at him as Pierre hesitated, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was the end of December and all of the driver lineups had been confirmed for months at this point, including Red Bull and the newly named AlphaTauri. Objectively, Pierre knew that there probably wasn’t anyone as qualified as he to fill in the role on short notice; as far as he knew, none of the rookie drivers had enough license points to qualify and none had logged nearly as many hours in the sim as he had, but that didn’t explain why a seat was suddenly open and who he’d be replacing.
When neither of them spoke, Pierre half shocked into silence, half waiting for further explanation, he finally said, “You’re joking. You’re pulling my leg.”
His reaction made Horner laugh, but even with the ease that his boss was demonstrating, Pierre was still on edge, not sure what to expect or how to respond. Recognizing that Pierre was in a state of disbelief, Horner opened a drawer and pulled out a file folder and set it on the desk in front of Pierre. "This is the initial offer, take it to your team and we can schedule a date to discuss the full terms and details. Welcome to Formula 1, Pierre."
Pierre took the folder, not daring to open it just yet, his grip so tight on the shiny Red Bull Racing folder that he was probably creasing the pages within, his fingerprints smudging the otherwise pristine navy-blue surface. “Was there anything else that you wanted to discuss?” he asked, still not believing what was happening, certain that there were other reasons why he had been summoned to Horner’s office.
But in response, his boss shook his head, a knowing smile on his face, the look of a man who had given the same news to several drivers before Pierre and knew that sometimes it took some time to sink in. “Go home and take the rest of the year off, Pierre. Call your family, get spectacularly drunk, do whatever it is you want to do to celebrate. Come back in the new year ready to work.”
He nodded and stood, Horner following suit and offering Pierre his hand in congratulations, which Pierre shook, still a little dazed by the news. “We’ll set up a meeting for you to meet with Franz and the two of you can make plans for you to meet the rest of the team.”
Nodding again, he cleared his throat, not quite trusting his voice, but pressed on. “Thank you so much, this is a dream come true.”
Horner smiled, not quite as unnerving as Marko’s, but there was still something behind it, something shark-like that even after all this time as part of the Red Bull program, Pierre wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Enjoy your holiday, Pierre.”
He waited until the lead up to Christmas to tell his family, he and his brothers and their families all crammed under his parent’s roof to celebrate the holiday, accidentally elbowing each other at the dinner table, his youngest nephew screaming with delight at something only he could comprehend.
His family had been elated at the news, all of them jockeying to try and hug him, maneuvering around the dining room table difficult with so many people, their voices growing louder and louder as they all tried to make their congratulations heard. Some of his younger niblings didn’t quite understand what was going on, but they cheered and screamed too, wanting to be part of the celebrations, their shrill voices rising above everything else.
The reaction of his family made everything feel real, like the volume of the rest of the world had been on mute while Pierre glided through it, unsure of where he was or what he was doing; but now, now it was like the knob had been turned up to eleven, the joy and praise of the people he loved most, of the people who would love him unconditionally breaking through the fog that he’d been lost in for the last several months. His family who had given everything up for him to chase this dream, the ones who would cheer him on on victory and would console him in defeat and yet would love the all the same no matter where he finished, these were the people he raced for.
His dad joked that Pierre better get him and his mom paddock passes for his first race, his brother teasing him, asking Pierre if he’d be able to steal the keys to his new F1 car to take it for a spin, fully knowing that formula cars didn’t use keys. Across the table, one of his sister-in-law’s and his mother were asking another of Pierre’s brother’s about AlphaTauri, how well they did last season and how well they could expect Pierre to do in the car they’d developed.
It was overwhelming, their reaction, and for as much as he loved them, for as much as he wanted to celebrate this accomplishment with them, the people who had seen how hard he’d worked, who’d seen where he came from and where he was going, but looking at the table at all of them, there was still something that had settled in Pierre’s chest long ago that even all the love and support of his family couldn’t quite shake it. As much as he wanted to relish in their praise, to selfishly be the center of attention even if just for a night, what he wanted more was to make his escape to his old room and curl up in the small twin bed he’d long outgrown, seeking out the silence and the loneliness that he’d grown accustomed to.
When things had settled down and dinner had been consumed, he helped his mother clear the table and clean up the kitchen as his brothers and their families went into the family room, using the time to get the kids settled, the anticipation of opening presents was so exciting that it threatened to overwhelm them and evolve into a full-on meltdown if not handled properly. As he diligently scraped the plates clean and arranged them neatly in the dishwasher, his mother paused to look at him.
“What did Charles say when you told him? He must have been elated.”
Pierre looked down at the plate in his hands under the guise of continuing to clean as to avoid his mother’s eyes. Charles had been the second person he’d wanted to tell as soon as he’d gotten out of sight of Horner’s office, the first being his parents, but he’d waited, rationalizing that it would be better to break the news in person. Waiting the extra week plus to see the pride and excitement his parents and the rest of his family had been more than worth it and, in his mind, he rationalized that waiting to tell Charles would be the same.
Continuing to look down, he told his mother this, missing the sad but knowing smile she gave him.
Charles had mentioned hanging out during the winter break before things got too busy with car launches and testing, the time between the end of the season and the start of the next getting shorter and shorter as more and more races were added to the calendar. He had initially mentioned the time between Christmas and New Year’s when things were as busy; most of the factory staff was taking a much needed break before the ramp up to the new season and the drivers were scattered to the four corners of the earth, some at home, some with family, some on vacation relaxing before they were expected to get back into the car and do it all over again.
Except there was no all over again for Pierre. It was going to be a brand new experience and he was equal parts excited and terrified that he’d mess everything up. When he took to the track in Barcelona in a couple months, it wouldn’t be his first time in an F1 car, but he knew that this was his chance to prove himself, to prove to Red Bull, the people in the paddock and to the fans that he belonged in F1. He knew that Red Bull could be a little ruthless with it came to drivers, even in a sport as competitive as F1, the organization had a reputation for tossing drivers aside when it looked like they weren’t getting up to speed quickly enough, and he was determined that he wasn’t going to be another driver who was talented, but not talented enough for F1. No, once he got that seat, he was going to keep it.
With that in mind, he threw everything he had into prepping for the new season. He studied track layouts until they were committed to memory, practicing every track on next year’s calendar on his home sim until he could drive them with his eyes closed, his dreams filled with visions speeding down the main straight at Paul Ricard, the home crowd cheering for him, distinguishable even over the sound of the engine. He worked out even more than he did before, now under the careful eye of a performance coach, his shoulders getting broader, arms thicker with corded muscle.
He pushed himself more than he had before, but instead of spending countless hours at the factory testing setups and running simulated runs for the benefit of other drivers, he was doing it for himself, ensuring that when the season started, he would be ready for anything.
But with all this extra work, it meant that he didn’t have time to hang out with Charles. This season's other new drivers, Pierre’s former friend turned rival Esteban Ocon returning after a season without a seat, and newcomer Nicholas Latifi had a head start of several months to prepare for the upcoming season while Pierre was stuck playing catch up. Every time that Charles texted, asking if Pierre could fly out to Monaco to escape the rain and fog of the UK in favor of a slightly warmer climate and the weak winter Mediterranean sun— even if just for a weekend— Pierre always declined, worried that a day he wasn’t working on racing would be a day he’d fall even further behind.
Pierre hated to blow off one of his best friends like this, and he suspected that now that Charles wasn’t dealing with sponsors and flying off the new countries several times a month, he was starting to catch on that Pierre was disengaged from their friendship, but even the knowing that his friend was no longer buying his excuses, Pierre was still making them. He rationalized his behavior by telling himself that they’d have more time to catch up this season when they be at the same place almost every weekend, but the voice inside his head kept telling him that if he kept blowing Charles off like this, he might not have a friend to hang out with come the start of the season.
All of this could be avoided if Pierre were honest and told Charles why he was busy, but for some reason, he hadn’t yet told him about his promotion to F1. Rationally, he knew that he should tell him sooner rather than later; AlphaTauri and Red Bull had yet to announce anything and as far as the press were concerned, AlphaTauri’s line up was still the same one that was announced part way through last season. There was no reason not to tell Charles, the deal was already complete, modifications to the original offer had only taken a few days to negotiate and the ink on the contract had been dry before the holidays. Pierre knew that his best friend wouldn’t have wanted to hear it from anyone but him, but there was something about admitting it before it was announced, like there was the possibility that it could all be taken away before it was put into the world.
Telling his family had been one thing, but telling someone who knew you better than you knew yourself? Telling someone with whom you’d shared your hopes and dreams with since you were small children? For some reason that was far scarier.
His introduction as one of the drivers for the newly branded AlphaTauri had been announced at the launch of the new car, the press immediately running to be the first tweet out the news, journalist speculation fueling fan theories as to why things had changed in a matter of months. Immediately after the brand new white and navy livery was revealed, the press was all over him, asking questions about the upcoming season, looking for any clue as to why he would be in the car instead of who the team had originally announced.
Pierre wasn't used to the media wanting to talk to him. Sure, he'd given an interview here or there after winning the GP2 championship, had appeared once or twice on the French broadcast to promote the team and talk about the drivers, but other than those short stints, no one really cared about the mostly anonymous driver who had been sidelined for the last few seasons. The experience was overwhelming, the crowd of reporters jockeying for position as they swarmed him, the number of people and cameras so packed together that he couldn't see the room beyond.
He gave prepared, measured answers, careful to not reveal more than what the team wanted him to say, the media strategy having been carefully crafted by the team of PR specialists that Pierre had never needed to interact with until now. Daniil had been helpful, they had similar senses of humor and used it to their advantage, much to the amusement of the various journalists who were covering the event, but even their improv and off the cuff statements didn’t give away too much.
After what seemed like an eternity later, Pierre was free, the weight on his chest finally lifting as he escaped to the green room, finally able to change out of his race suit, the methodical, familiar motion of separating the Velcro at his neck then pulling the zipper down until he could shuck off the fabric was a comforting feeling that he hadn’t realized he’d missed until now. It wasn’t the same as peeling out of the suit like it was a second skin, the light fabric drenched in sweat after a good, hard race, but that was coming, all Pierre had to do was be patient.
There was a short media debrief that he needed to attend before he could head home and take care of the mass of notifications that no doubt had flooded his phone over the course of the last several hours, but first he wanted to post something to social media, his official announcement to the fans who had stuck by him as he’d waited for this opportunity. The dizzying number of WhatsApp messages, texts, and Twitter notifications coupled with a handful of missed calls and voicemails were all ignored as he opened up Instagram.
“FORMULA 1!!!!!!!” he typed out quickly, a photo of him standing proudly next to the new AT01 having been sent to him by someone from the PR team specifically for this purpose. “So excited to represent @AlphaTauriF1 this season! Thank you to the team and to @RedBullRacing for making a dream come true! #LetsGetToWork”
It was a pretty standard post as far as announcements went, it didn’t express even a fraction of how excited and nervous he was, but even if he had thousands of words to convey how he was feeling, he’d never be able to put into words the elation at finally achieving he’d been working toward for most of his life.
He sighed, remembering that this hadn’t been just his dream and that Formula 1 had been a dream he’d shared with others, including Charles with whom he still hadn’t told about his promotion. The guilty side of him wanted to wait until after the debrief, until after he’d gotten home and eaten to give him the chance to soak it all in, but that was a lie.
Pierre was still hiding from Charles, was still doing whatever he could to avoid him and had been doing so since Monza the previous year. The fact was that he’d been lying to himself for nearly half a year, pushing one of his best friends aside as he buried himself deeper and deeper into working, using his job and ambition as an excuse to avoid taking a step back and reflecting on how much he’d lost himself in the past year.
He was punishing himself, there was no denying it, but what was a little more pain at this point? He’d probably hurt Charles more than enough lately, so maybe he deserved it. The sooner confessed and let Charles be mad at him, the sooner he could apologize and beg Charles for forgiveness. His friend had a gentle heart and while mad, would probably forgive Pierre, but Pierre wasn’t sure if he deserved it.
Against his better judgment, he swiped down on his phone, scrolling through notifications until found what he was looking for.
Missed Call Calamar 🦑(5)
Pierre shook his head and swiped away the missed call notification. It was just like Charles to call him multiple times and not leave him a voicemail despite knowing that Pierre was probably talking to the media, but usually when Charles was excited or upset, logic often went out the window.
Knowing that there was no escaping it now, he switched over to his texts, ignoring the notifications with messages of congratulations from other drivers and colleagues, seeking out his thread with Charles.
From Calamar 🦑: ???????!!!!!!!
From Calamar 🦑: What the fuck Pierre, I had to hear the news from Arthur????
From Calamar 🦑: How long have you been keeping this a secret??
His fingers hovered over the keys, not quite sure how he should respond. Pierre couldn’t deny that he’d been avoiding talking to Charles about anything, not just the fact that he’d be on the grid this upcoming season. He’d been relying on the fact that AlphaTauri had waited until just before the car launch to announce that there had been changes to their diver duo, not revealing who would be in the car until everything was announced, the new team, new branding, and new driver combining to hopefully be the most exciting reveal leading up to testing in a few weeks.
Theoretically, he could justify not telling Charles because he had been afraid that any leak would have jeopardized his seat. It seemed more often than not that the rumors that seemed to come out of the paddock were true— or at the very least, had some basis in fact— and Red Bull had wanted to avoid the PR disaster of having the fact that they had to replace one of the drivers on their junior team during the offseason.
Without racing as the focus, any minor scandal that occurred in the off season could have the potential to blow wildly out of proportion as journalists and fans have little to talk about or discuss, resulting in wild speculation fueled by conspiracy theories and the barest of facts to back up their claims.
While Pierre could make up such an excuse, doing so would mean telling Charles— albeit indirectly— that he hadn’t trusted him to keep his promotion a secret, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
The truth was Pierre hadn’t wanted to tell Charles. At first, he didn’t know how to, but then he came to the realization that the prospect of telling Charles about his promotion filled him with a dread that he couldn’t describe or pinpoint the reason behind. He wasn’t excited to tell him that the dream they had shared as kids was becoming a reality and it made him feel like a horrible person. Pierre knew he couldn’t tell Charles all of that without his best friend demanding they immediately meet face to face to work things out, so instead, he’d done what he’d gotten good at in the last year: throw himself into work to escape his problems.
Choosing on taking the cowards way out once again, Pierre fumbled to write a quick response, hoping that Charles was so happy for him that he didn’t dig too deep into Pierre’s reasoning.
To Calamar 🦑: I signed the contract a little over a month ago and have been drowning in pre-season prep ever since 🤣🤣🤣
To Calamar 🦑: I feel like I haven’t had any time to think let alone do anything else 🤪
It was a feeble excuse, although not entirely untrue, but it would have to do.
It was strange, facing the fact that you’d been running from something, but even with acknowledging that he wasn’t fine, it wasn’t something that Pierre wanted to examine too closely right now. He was on the verge of being able to call himself a Formula 1 driver, something that he’d been working toward since he was a kid, and he didn’t want to taint the memory of finally making it by spending too much time examining his behavior the past few months.
No, his dreams were finally starting to come true, and he knew that if he just waited a little longer, everything was going to be fine.
How could they not be?
February 2020
Testing; Barcelona, Spain
The bright Spanish sunshine did little to warm Pierre up as he jogged from the garage back to the joint Alpha Tauri/Red Bull hospitality building, the sleeves of his race suit swinging freely from his hips as the click of a camera’s shutter followed him as he exited the garage.
His first session in the car had gone better than expected with him ending up in the top five for the day— at one point even taking the fastest lap of the session— a feat he hadn’t expected when he got in the car that morning, but there was still work to be done. He’d spun early on, not quite to grips with being back in a racecar, but overall, the team had been pleased with what he had shown in the morning session and he was excited to get back out on track.
“Pierre!”
Max was heading toward him with his hand raised in greeting, dressed in his Red Bull polo, his racing gear not necessary today with Alex taking over driving duties for both sessions. He stopped, waiting for the other driver to catch up to him so they could walk inside the motorhome together, but Max didn’t seem to be in a rush to get inside just yet, choosing to lean against the railing that separated the hospitality building from the rest of the paddock despite the chill that hadn’t quite abated in the late afternoon sunshine.
“You looked good out there. How did it feel, being in the car for the first time?”
Pierre shrugged with a laugh, “I think my arms are going to fall off and my shoulders and neck are killing me.” Max joined in on the laughter as Pierre rolled his shoulders and neck with a grimace to emphasize his point, his muscles protesting at the movement, but for now it was the good kind of pain, the kind that hit you after a long workout. “All the working out I did over the break doesn’t seem to have helped me in any way.”
“It doesn’t matter how often you work out, I think,” Max explained. “You can do all the exercises in the world, but nothing compares to the actual G-Forces in the car and it takes actually driving to get used to it.”
Max trailed off and raised his hand high in greeting, focused on someone walking through the paddock. Pierre half expected it to be Daniel who was often by Max’s side during the weekend despite the pair no longer being teammates, but Pierre followed Max’s gaze and saw Charles leaving the Ferrari garage with Sebastian and several members of their team, his eyes locked on Pierre and Max not listening to what looked like a lively conversation between Sebastian and one of their mechanics. Pierre tried to work up the courage to call out to Charles, to do something familiar, but as soon as he realized Pierre was looking at him, Charles looked away and continued following his teammate into the Ferrari motorhome.
Guilt swirled in the pit of Pierre’s stomach, but he did his best to try and push it away. It was his fault that he and Charles weren’t talking, but he couldn’t worry about it now, he had a job to do.
Next to him, Max’s forehead furrowed in confusion, trying to take in what was happening. “What’s wrong with him? Is Ferrari’s car shit again?”
There were times, even after he’d known Max for as long as he had, that Pierre wasn’t sure if Max was joking or not. He wasn’t sure if it was a Dutch thing or a Max thing, but despite having a great sense of humor, his jokes and criticisms were often said in the same blunt tone and this was just another occasion where Pierre wasn’t sure if he should laugh, not that he was able to.
Charles hadn’t reached out after Pierre had texted him his excuse as to why he hadn’t told him that he’d been given a seat, and Pierre was beginning to suspect that Charles had started to put the pieces together and had realized that Pierre had been purposefully avoiding him.
He wanted nothing more than to have his best friend by his side, to be able to share this experience together, but Pierre was so deep in his self-loathing it consumed him, and at this point, he was more afraid of Charles' rejection than anything. He'd rather have his best friend mad at him than not be a passing thought in Charles' mind, so he kept to himself and didn't offer an explanation.
By the time Pierre was free to leave, the sun had set and a chill had settled over the shadowy paddock, the yellowish light coming from the lights mounted on the sides of the garages casting long shadows along the pavement. He shivered, wishing that he had his sweatshirt but it was probably stashed away somewhere in his driver’s room with Pyry who was waiting for him so they could drive back to the hotel and go over tomorrow’s schedule.
He started jogging in that direction, wanting to be out of the cold and hoping that by getting his blood flowing he could get some feeling back into his fingers, but as he rounded around a tire cart, he ran into someone, sending them both to the ground.
“Oh my god, are you alright?” a familiar voice said and Pierre looked up to see Charles pushing himself up off the ground, unaware of whom he’d just run into.
“I— yeah,” Pierre mumbled, wanting nothing more in that moment to disappear. Of all the people, it had to be Charles. He debated on not getting up, on staying on the ground, waiting to be swallowed up, but he couldn’t, so instead he sighed to himself and slowly got to his feet. He sensed rather than saw the moment Charles realized who he’d run into, his body stiffening as he recognized Pierre.
“Sorry,” was all Pierre could offer, still not looking at Charles, instead checking his hands for any scrapes or bruises, flexing his arms and rotating his wrists to see if he’d hurt anything as he’d fallen.
“So you do know how to apologize,” Charles said bitterly, his tone making Pierre look up at him in shock. “I’d thought you had forgotten.”
Pierre had dealt with a moody Charles before, knew that there were times that Charles could be petulant, more like a spoiled child than the twenty-something man he’d grown to be, but he had never been on the receiving end of his anger. And more than anything, he knew that this time Charles’ anger was justified, that he deserved Pierre dropping to his knees and groveling, begging for Charles’ forgiveness, but Pierre was too much of a coward to give him what he deserved.
Instead, he mumbled a quick “See you later, Charles,” and turned away, heading back toward the joint Red Bull/Alpha Tauri hospitality building, unable to see the anger and betrayal in Charles’ eyes any longer.
September 2020
Italian Grand Prix; Monza, Italy
Pierre was sticky with champagne, his race suit heavy, soaked with his sweat and the remainder of the podium celebration that he’d participated in from the top step mere minutes before. The crowd below in the pitlane had dispersed, mechanics going to pack up the garage— cargo needing to be shipped to the next track before they could head off and enjoy what little was left of their weekend— drivers having disappeared to clean up before having to endure yet another race debrief where every detail was picked over as the team of strategists and engineers tried to figure out where they could make up time, even a tenth of a second meaning the difference between a good result and a disastrous one.
He knew that he too would need to join them, to leave the podium behind, trophy in one hand, magnum bottle of champagne in the other, the black and gold hat crowning him the race winner fit snugly around his head, but he couldn't make himself do it, not yet. He needed a shower, needed to pluck off the confetti that clung to his clothing, needed to replace the mask that smelled like champagne and stuck to his face like a second skin, but he continued to sit, soaking it all in.
Footsteps approached him, probably someone from F1 or track management here to tell him that he needed to leave the podium and return to the team, but they didn’t. Whoever it was took a seat next to him on the top step and waited silently.
He looked up to see Charles, dressed in his Ferrari polo and a pair of jeans, looking at the empty grandstands and the main straight where a year ago fans cheered as he stood on this very step and hoisted his trophy high into the air, confetti raining down around him— the King of Monza, the Ferrari Prince, il Predestinato. There had been no cheering fans this time, not for Pierre, just what seemed like the entire paddock in the pitlane below, everyone seemingly excited for him and in many ways, Pierre preferred it that way. It was the people he worked with or alongside who knew what struggles he’d gone through while waiting in the wings, waiting for his chance to prove what he was made of, and it was those people who understood best what it meant to him. With no fans in attendance, he was able to relish the moment a little longer, able to soak it in and finally start letting go of all of the stress that had been weighing him down. He wouldn’t have any other way.
Part of him wondered what Charles was doing here next to him. They hadn’t spoken to each other that weekend and hadn’t been speaking much at all, not since their awkward encounter in Barcelona several months prior. Even when they had been forced to quarantine in their homes, when Pierre couldn’t go home to be with his family and was left alone in his small Bologna apartment they hadn’t bothered making up, both drivers stubbornly choosing silence in what had to be one of the most isolating times of their lives. Charles had filled up his time by streaming with some of the other drives, namely George, Alex, and Lando, the four of them forming a little F1 streaming gang while Pierre opted to keep his gaming away from the prying eyes of fans, only a few old friends and former GP2 rivals he was still close to as witnesses to his inability to pick up shooting games.
“I was cheering for you,” Charles said after a long stretch of silence, his voice barely audible over music blasting in one of the garages, loud enough to be audible from the podium platform. “Seb and I both asked to delay the briefing so we could watch you win.”
Sebastian was the only other winner in the Toro Rosso/Alpha Tauri team’s history, and like Pierre, he had claimed his first victory at Monza some twelve seasons earlier, back when Pierre and Charles were still in karts and could only dream about racing in Formula One. Pierre had looked up to Sebastian as a child, had watched him claim his four Championships and had dreamed of doing the same; maybe it was too early to hope to follow in his footsteps, to hope that his career could reach a fraction of the success Sebastian had achieved, but Pierre hadn’t gotten here by dreaming small.
But for now, it was enough to know that Sebastian had been rooting for him.
Guilt twinged Pierre’s stomach when he realized that he should be happy that Charles had been rooting for him to, that even after Pierre had pushed him away, Charles still cared enough to want Pierre to win, that he still wanted Pierre to fulfill their childhood dream, F1 Drivers, race winners, World Champions. Despite what countless people had told them, despite the kids at school that had bullied Pierre and had told him that he was wasting his time, that he wasn’t good enough, the two of them had managed the improbable and achieved the first two. They were here, together, both winners at Monza.
“You shouldn’t have,” Pierre said stubbornly, “I don’t deserve your support, not after everything.”
Charles huffed, “Yeah, maybe, but I did it anyway and you can’t do anything about it now.”
Pierre didn’t have a response to that, so he continued to sit in silence. He knew that if he didn’t take advantage of this, of the olive branch Charles was offering, then their friendship was probably as good as dead. But despite knowing that this was his last chance, there were so many things that he wanted to say that he didn’t know where to start; he was frozen, terrified of saying the wrong thing. So, he continued to sit there, soaking in the moment.
“I don’t understand, why didn’t you tell me you’d been offered a seat?” Charles said, breaking the silence again.
Pierre had asked himself this same question countless times over the past few months, particularly on the nights he had been alone and unable to fall asleep, his only company being the thoughts that still swirled around in his head, the ones that hadn’t been silenced when he had finally achieved his lifelong dream.
“I—” Pierre hesitated and licked his lips, not sure where to start, but where was a better place and the beginning? “Last year,” he said finally. “You won here, do you remember?”
Charles looked at him, confused, and Pierre continued. Of course, Charles remembered winning at Monza, they both did. “I stood in the pit lane, watching you get your trophy.” He gestured to the long straight below them, remembering what it had been like to look up Charles, to see the red, white, and green confetti raining from the sky as the loyal Ferrari fans sang along as the Italian anthem played, flags waving widely as the sea of supporters cheered for Charles, their future champion.
“I was jealous.”
There were a million words that he could say, countless ways to explain why he had acted the way he had, but when it came down to it, the root of why he had distanced himself from Charles was because he had been jealous.
Jealous that his best friend had achieved his dream of racing in F1 and that he had found success, that he had made it to a top team that believed him, who was willing to favor him over a proven race winner and champion, that he had not only made it, but that it was more than possible that he could add his name and signature to the Championship Trophy, that his legacy would be cemented alongside the greats of the sport.
“Watching you up here, lifting up the trophy above your head. I wanted that for myself.” Pierre looked down at his feet, knowing how selfish it sounded, but if he wanted things with Charles to return to some kind of normal, he needed to be honest, needed to be willing to have the difficult conversation that he’d been avoiding for a year. If Charles still hated him after Pierre bared his soul, then so be it, but now that they were here, he wasn’t going to allow himself to leave the podium without knowing one way or another.
“I was happy for you too, of course, and I hated myself for being jealous because you deserve all the success in the world.”
Pierre felt fingers wrap around his wrist and he looked up to see Charles watching him, eyes wide with concern. Knowing that maybe, just maybe Charles didn’t hate him gave Pierre the courage to keep going.
“I guess it probably started before Monza, jealousy doesn’t come out of nowhere, no? But that weekend was when I first realized. I went home after and didn’t want to feel anything. I kept pushing myself, working longer hours, doing more at the factory because I didn’t want to be alone, or have enough time to stop and think about how miserable I was.
“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems because you were so happy, deservedly so, so I kept it to myself thinking that it would go away and I guess it never really did.”
“But we hung out in Abu Dhabi, you seemed okay then,” Charles frowned, brows furrowed in confusion. “A little tired maybe, but we all were.”
Pierre smiled ruefully and shook his head, remembering what had ended up being the last time he and Charles hung out together. There were times that night that he had been able to forget that it felt like he was drowning in his own emotions— and in those brief moments of respite, things with Charles had felt normal— but when the conversation lulled, and especially after the two had gone their separate ways at the end of the night, remembering the moments of peace made Pierre feel even worse. It was like he was punishing himself for his brief moments of happiness and whatever good feelings the night had left him with had quickly dissipated.
“I never thought I was that good of an actor,” he chuckled, “but maybe if racing doesn't work out, I should give that a try next, no? I never thought I was good at keeping secrets from you.”
Charles’s frown deepened. “Don’t joke like that.”
His tone surprised Pierre, who wasn’t used to Charles speaking with this much force. Charles was usually more easy going, assertive at times when he knew what he wanted, but never sharp, not even when he was angry; at times he could be petulant, more like the youngest sibling rather than the middle child that he was, but even with all their years of friendship, Pierre had never heard Charles sound so defiant.
“You belong here, with us,” Charles gestured aimlessly around them, at the podium, down toward the paddock below, then finally at the trophy still clutched in his hands, the twin of the one Charles had lifted high above his head the year before as Pierre had watched him, jealousy curling in the pit of his stomach as confetti rained down and the crowd cheered for their hero. “That is proof.
“You won a Formula 1 race, Pierre, only about a hundred people can say that they’ve achieved that in like 70 years of racing. No matter what happens after today, you’re a part of history and they can’t take that away from you. Our names are forever tied to this sport; we made it together, just like we planned. You deserve this, you earned this through hard work and determination and never giving up. I’m proud of you.”
The look on Charles’ face— the fierce determination in his eyes, the stubbornness of his pout— reminded Pierre of when they were kids, dreaming about making it to Formula 1, of the times they stayed up while on vacation together and dreamed about racing alongside each other. As they had grown older, those dreams never wavered. When Pierre had been told that he’d never amount to anything, that it would be better if he just gave up, Charles had reassured him that they were going to make it, they were going to be the ones who defied the odds.
And he had been right.
Despite setbacks and hardships, despite the timing not being quite right at first, they had made it. It may have taken Pierre a little longer than it had taken Charles, but they were here, together, competing at the highest level of motorsport just like they had dreamed.
Pierre didn’t have the words to express to Charles how much he meant to Pierre in that moment, how grateful he was for Charles’ unwavering support, even in the wake of Pierre’s treatment of him over the past year. He knew that he’d have to work to feel like he’d truly earned the forgiveness Charles had given him so easily, but the fear that Charles hated him was easing knowing that after everything, his best friend was still by his side.
“You’re beginning to sound a lot like Sebastian,” Pierre said instead of what he was feeling. “Rattling off all those statistics, I think he’s rubbed off on you.”
Charles scoffed, but the way his eyes lit up betrayed his attempt at looking annoyed; Pierre knew that Charles idolized Sebastian, and that any comparison would be taken as a compliment and that this time was no different. “Mate, come on. He makes fun of me for knowing nothing about this sport, but anything is nothing compared to him.”
Pierre laughed for what felt like the first time in ages, head tipping back as he felt his chest expanding— not just from the gasping breaths that he was taking as Charles grinned next to him, proud that the joke had landed— but from the weight of jealousy and bitterness that had made a home there in the past few months starting to melt away. He knew that things weren’t going to get better immediately, that winning a race and more importantly, the knowledge that Charles was right there fighting with him, for him wasn’t going to fix all his problems, but it was a light at the end of the tunnel, a lifeline that he could cling onto when things were rough and it was more than what he’d thought he’d had when he had felt so alone.
But the laughter, as good as it had felt, was short lived; Pierre’s mask was still soaked with champagne and the damp fabric was sticking to his face as he inhaled, making breathing more difficult.
“We should do something to celebrate,” he said, cheeks still wide with a smile. “Not go out obviously, but—”
“Dinner,” Charles said firmly, cutting him off. “We can order room service and catch up.” That determined look was back in Charles' eyes, and even if he had wanted to, there was no way Pierre could have said no to him. When Charles got his mind set on something, there was no convincing him otherwise.
“I’ll text you,” Pierre promised, standing from the podium, his trophy clutched in one hand, champagne in the other.
“Mate, you better, or else I’m going to come find you.”
Charles stood too and wrapped an arm around Pierre’s shoulders, hip checking him as the pair of them walked off the podium.
#pierre gasly fanfiction#pierre gasly fan fic#charles leclerc fanfiction#charles leclerc fanfic#piarles#piarles fanfiction#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfiction#mine.doc#fic: we said forever#fic: pierre gasly#fic: charles leclerc
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He drove a perfect race. He did, despite the rain and the treacherousness of the track. He did everything right, and he still lost the win that should've been his.
Yes, Charles is angry, and with Pierre's nod, he lets it fill him, lets himself feel as red as his suit and his car.
Post-Monaco 2022, Pierre and Charles debrief, in their own way.
so... i did a piarles thing 👀🦑🏎️
#piarles#piarles fic#piarles fanfiction#pierre gasly x charles leclerc#charles leclerc x pierre gasly#calamars <3#monaco gp 2022#myfic
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No but like, you don’t understand, Pierre dies if he doesn’t tease / interact with Charles in any way possible even if it’s briefly annoying him, it’s just the way they function ✨
Thanks @moonlightmalou darling as it’s always a pleasure to exchange about them and to find content 😂❤️
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Really thinking about writing a fanfic about Formula 1 and Harry Potter.
With Piarles as ennemies to friends to lovers to strangers to lovers. Pierre as a Slytherin and Charles as a Gryffindor.
Galex as love at first sight but George try to hide it very hard. George being Pierre best friend and dragging him to the Gryffindor party to see Alex and poor Pierre and Charles having to be the third wheel and snickering about the other while George and Alex are akwardly flirting. George as a Slytherin and Alex as a Gryffindor.
Maxiel as the two shennigans who are trying to hide their relationship but Daniel is very bad at hiding it so Max has to silence him. Max as a slytherin and Daniel as Hufflepuff.
Landoscar as grumpy x sunshine. They are forced to work together for a Defence against the Dark arts. Lando is very energetic and try to conceal his crush for Oscar that is as since Oscar took his hand to show him the right way to cast a spell.
Brocedes as teachers / ennemies to lovers. Nico is the charms teacher who always make snarky remarks about Lewis without naming it. Lewis who's the arithmency teacher that everyone likes. They were lovers until the NEWTs came and put them in an over competitive relationship. And now, everyone wonders if they fucked.
Simi as 'everyone wonder if they're a couple or not while they're married'. Kimi being the potions teacher and Sebastian is the transfiguration teacher. Everyone absolutely loves Sebastian because he's always caring and joking with everyone.
One year younger, we have Kimi and Ollie who are under Charles' wing. They both have a huge crush on the other but Kimi as a girlfriend and think Ollie isn't gay.
Of course with other ships like Mark Webber + Fernando Alonso or Esteban + Lance
All of that during starting when Harry enters his third year at school. So going from year 5 to the Great War. Dealing with purebloods idea and just relationship. Voldemort is even scared by the couple because they're very powerful wizards.
#charles leclerc#piarles#oscar piastri#galex#pierre gasly#formula 1#fanfic#ao3#fanfiction#lando norris#landoscar#landoscar my beloved#perhaps smut#brocedes#nico rosberg#lewis hamilton#f1 grid#ollie bearman#kimi raikkonen#kimi antonelli#Simi#sebastian vettel#mark webber#fernando alonso#harry potter#max verstappen#daniel ricciardo#george russell#alex albon#found family
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Pierre Gasly / Charles Leclerc
Title: Spin the bottle
Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Pierre Gasly
Characters: Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly, Carlos Sainz, Lando Norris, George Russell, Alex Albon
Prompt: Pierre found out Charles is a virgin, so he decides to give him his first blowjob and fuck!
"Let's play spin the bottle" Of course it's Alex that suggests it, they are all more than a little tipsy now and only few of them remain, Pierre himself, Charles, Alex, George, Carlos and Lando.
"We might find out things about each other, we don't want to know." Lando giggles sitting next to Carlos in the small circle forming on the carpeted floor. "You can always go home if you're too chicken." Alex mocks sitting next to George, those two have already struggled to keep their hands off each other.
Pierre is the last to join the circle, he sits next to George and Charles of course, he's tried it on with Charles all night, only to be pushed away, at least this game might reveal some naughty secrets about his fellow drivers.
"I get to spin first because this was my idea." Alex demands, seeming much more sober than the rest of them. He spins the bottle and it lands on Carlos. "Have you ever kissed Lando?" Pierre thinks that is a very boring question, especially from a guy as mischievous as Alex.
"I think we all know the answer to that is yes." Carlos giggles tipping back the rest of his beer. "I expected more from you Albono." Alex gives a guilty shrug. "I didn't want to start too heavy." Carlos ignores him and spins the bottle, which lands on George. Judging by the evil smile creeping on Carlos' face this question is going to be more entertaining.
"Have you ever been fisted?" George spits out his fruity looking cocktail in shock. "No?" George wipes the liquid off his face with the back of his hand. "Do you want to?" Carlos adds, still smirking. "Yes, I mean-" Alex abruptly cuts him off. "You only get to ask one question." Judging by the blush on Alex's face, he's only just learnt George would like to be fisted. Pierre smirks, this game is getting very interesting indeed.
George spins the bottle and this time it lands on Pierre himself, what does Mr British boy have in store for him. "Do you bottom for Charles are you always on top?" This is not the kind of question Pierre was expecting, he and Charles have never slept together, the younger man had always turned down his advances.
"Uhmm we've never slept together." George rolls his eyes. "Lying is not allowed, I told everyone I want to get fisted, that is nothing in comparison." Alex quietly chokes on his drink but quickly recovers. "ooh I bet it's because big bad Pierre is a bottom." All the circle laugh, including Charles, the traitor who keeps quiet all through Pierre's ordeal. "I have no issue bottoming, but i've never slept with Charles."
"Mr Tripod is a liar." Carlos snaps. "Just spin the bottle Pierre." Pierre glares at Charles one last time then spins the bottle, unfortunately it doesn't land on Charles but Lando instead.
"Tell us your deepest, kinkiest fantasy." Pierre is feeling slightly mean after getting humiliated by Charles. Lando doesn't look the slightest bit embarrassed, he licks his lips and locks eyes with Carlos, who has become rather flustered.
"Well Carlos has never been anything but a gentleman with me, so I guess I need a more adventurous man to try this with." Lando's eyes never leave Carlos' "I would like someone, to grab me roughly, manhandle me onto the bed, tie me to it, then fuck me really hard while whispering what a naughty boy I am and when were finished I would like to have car- err his spunk plugged into my arse." Lando giggles again.
"That's oddly specific" Alex laughs, George and Lando lock eyes michvious smiles on their faces. It's obvious what those two are playing it, meanwhile Pierre can't even get laid.
Lando spins the bottle, this time it lands on Alex, he locks eyes with George once again and smiles at Alex. "Do you want to fist George." A blush creeps onto Alex's cheeks but he manages to keep composed. "I mean, if he wanted it i'm not going to say no am I?" Lando shakes his head. "That wasn't my question, we know princess George always gets his own way, I said do you want to fist George?" Alex looks a lot let composed this time, biting his lip and wriggling on his spot. "Fuck, yes it would be the hottest thing I can imagine, I-" Carlos shakes his head. "We get it Alex."
"Don't be so boring with your question this time Alex." Carlos giggles "I don't need to spin the bottle, only Charles left." All eyes turn towards Charles who has been extremely quiet throughout the whole game. Charles' whole face has become ferrari red. He's embarrassed, good. Pierre can't wait to find out an embarrassing secret about the sweet innocent doe eyed Charles Leclerc.
"How many cocks have you had in your hole?" Poor Charles looks even more flustered than he did before. "I errm, I don't know?" George smiles at him. "Too many to count? Yet you've never slept with Pierre?" George glares at Pierre, for lying again.
"No, no not too many to count-" Charles shutters. "Then how man Charles?" Carlos adds. Pierre's somehow managed to remain very quiet, he is very curious about the answer to this question because yes George is right, if it is too many to count then how come he's never slept with Pierre.
"None." Charles takes a deep breath. "I've never had any cocks in my arse and i've never put my cock in someone's arse." Everyone's mouths fall open simultaneously of course they all believe him, who would lie about being a virgin.
"Shit, sorry Charles." George offers him a small smile. "Do you want to though?" All the rules of the game long since forgotten with this revelation. "I, I-" Charles gets up, flustered George and Lando quickly follow him. The three of them stand in a small group, whispering to each other smiles forming on their faces, George's arm wrapped around Charles' shoulder. "Those two sluts will corrupt him." Alex laughs. "Lando and George definitely had a game plan." Carlos adds smirking.
Well lucky them, Pierre thinks bitterly Alex and Carlos are certainly getting their dicks wet tonight.
"I'm ready to go, Pierre." Pierre wraps are protective arm around him and they leave together. As much as it frustrates Pierre they can't sleep together, he loves Charles more than anything.
*
"I'm ready Pierre." Is the first thing he says once they are in Charles' master bedroom in his apartment. "Ready for what, sleep?" He sighs, he couldn't think about anything other than Charles virginity all the way home, how he would love to take it, make him feel amazing.
"Ready to sleep with you, I was talking to George and Lando and they said it doesn'thurtthatbadandthatyouwouldtakecareofmeortheywouldkillyou." Charles says in a gabbled rush, Pierre shushes him with a finger to his lips.
"I'll make you feel amazing, I promise and if you want to stop, just tell me okay?"
"You're so beautiful Charles, I am so lucky that I get to be your first." Pierre gently lays Charles down on the bed and gently kisses him, they've kissed before but this is something else, it's slow and passionate just a nice kiss between two people that love each other. "I wish you could have been my first."
"Who was your first? What was it like?" Charles asks humming a little but as Pierre kisses Charles neck, only breaking the kiss to pull the shirt up over his head. He sucks in a breath, he's seen Charles shirtless many times but this time it feels different.
"My first time was awful." Pierre has moved on to kissing his way down Charles' chest now, all the way down to his belly button. he younger man shivers, goose bumps erupting over his skin. "It was with Daniil Kvyat"
Pierre eases Charles' jeans down his body, letting the denim slide off an inch at a time, until the fabric slides down Charles' strong legs, and falls onto the floor with a soft thump, leaving Charles only in his boxer shorts, his cock hard and obvious through the thin fabric. "He said something like, I owed to him because I stole his seat, he was gentle but didn't prepare me properly, it hurt so bad."
"I won't make you feel like that, I want your first to feel amazing." Charles lets out a shaky breath as Pierre gently eases down his boxers shorts, freeing his hard cock. "I don't want you to feel how I did."
"If it gets too much, just tell." Charles nods. Pierre strokes Charles' thigh lovingly as he takes Charles' hard cock into his mouth. Charles' eyes roll into the back of his head. "So good, Pear." Charles moans while Pierre works his mouth up and down Charles' shaft. He only bobs his head up and down a few times before pulling off. "I want you to come when i'm inside of you."
"Will it hurt?" Charles squeezes Pierre's bicep "You and George both said your first time hurt and i'm a little scared."
"Don't be scared." Pierre takes the bottle of lube and pours a generous amount onto his fingers. "Mine hurt because I wasn't prepared and George was in experienced." Pierre bends Charles leg and presses a finger tip against his entrance.
"It might feel uncomfortable, but i'll be really gentle and prepare you as well as I can." Pierre kisses Charles' soft lips. "I want your first time to feel amazing Charl, you deserve it."
Charles strokes Pierre's bicep as the older man pushes in the first finger, god Charles is tight and is clenching down on him which only made things much harder, "Relax baby, it will hurt more if you're tense." but at the same time it turns Pierre on, he's going to be the first person to be inside of Charles. Charles whines and lets his fingers slip from Pierre's bicep to grip at the bed sheets just as Pierre slides his finger to the knuckle. "How are you feeling my love?"
"Hurts a little bit, but good at the same time." Charles half growls, his knuckles turning white from gripping the bed sheets. Pierre stalls giving Charles plenty of time to adjust, only then does he twist the digit around pulling a moan from Charles lips. The little moan spurs Pierre on and starts to thrust with the single digit, slow and deep trying to limit the pain as much as he possibly can. The pleasured pain on Charles' face soon becomes one of only pleasure and Charles feels much looser around him now. "I'm going to add another one." Pierre adds with a kiss to Charles' sweaty forehead.
"Okay, I feel pretty good now." Pierre smiles down at him, fuck he loves Charles, he would die for Charles. Pierre pushes in the second finger to join the first one, Charles whines mostly from pleasure, it feels good to have Pierre inside of him. Charles can't help the moan fall from his lips as Pierre slowly starts to thrust with the two fingers. Charles throws himself back into the mountain of pillows unable to hold back his moans, this feels so much better than he thought it would.
Eventually Pierre makes his way up to four fingers, it's probably over kill but he's taking no risks when it comes to Charles. He thrusts them in and out of Charles, much quicker now. Pierre thrust a little deeper and curls his fingers into Charles' prostate. Smiling wickedly as he gives out a howl of pleasure. “Wow, what did you just do?” Charles asks, ever so sweetly.
"I hit your prostate." Pierre does it again for good measure, enjoying the pleasured fill whines falling from Charles mouth. "It feels amazing doesn't it? It makes me see stars." Pierre chuckles letting his fingers slip out, Charles pouts from the lack of contact, he's more than ready now.
"Are you sure you want this Charles? It's not too late say no, I won't be mad at you or anything?" Pierre asks, as he quickly gets rid of his own clothes, tearing them off and throwing them in a corner. How is Charles supposed to say no when Pierre's ripped body is waiting in front of him, looking sexier than ever.
"I want this Pierre, more than anything. Please give it to me." Charles wraps his legs around Pierre's tiny waist. "How am I supposed to say no that?" Pierre reaches over to grab a condom, only to have his hand slapped away. "No, George and Lando said it's better without, I want to feel you inside of me." Pierre smiles down at Charles and drinks in the sight of him being a virgin for the last time. "Fuck, Charles."
Pierre kisses Charles as he slowly pushes into him, Charles lets out a pain filled grunt, Pierre is massive and is much thicker than all of his fingers. Pierre takes it slowly, pushing in an inch at a time. "It will feel better, I promise." Charles nods, as Pierre runs his fingers through his sweaty hair, trying to soothe him through the pain.
"You need to relax, Charles." Pierre runs the pad of his thumb over his hip bone. "It will hurt so much more if you don't. We can stop if you like?"
"No." Charles shakes his head vigorously to show how serious he his. "Please don't stop Pierre." Charles sinks his teeth into his lip and breaths though his nose. It sort of feels like he's being split in two but he wants to fight through the pain, he just wants to feel Pierre buried deep inside of him.
"I don't want to hurt you Charles, you mean too much to me." Charles glares at him, he's the one that asked for this and if he wants to stop he will say. "I will relax, just don't stop please." Pierre nods and Charles forces his body to relax, his lip bears the brunt of the pain as Pierre finally slides into the hilt. Charles can't help the moan, yes it does hurt but feels so good to be wrapped around Pierre's cock.
Charles is lost in his head somewhere, his head is buried in the mountain of pillows, he's covered by Pierre's strong body, the pain as pretty much disappeared, he can only feel how amazing it is, to have Pierre inside of him, just like he wanted. "That was the worst part Charl, now i'm fully inside of you it will start to feel much better." Charles nods, remembering how good it felt to have Pierre touch his sweet spot, it can only feel much better when he hits it with his cock. "I feel so good Pierre, fuck I love you."
Pierre stalls for a little longer, wanting to make sure Charles has all the time he needs to adjust without it hurting him anymore than he needs to. "How are you feeling?" Pierre peppers little kisses over his jaw bone. "It feels amazing, to have you in me."
"I'm going to start moving now, if it starts hurting again please just tell me, we can take a break or we can stop all together." Pierre gives him one last kiss as he starts to move. Pierre moves slowly but deeply not pulling out too much. He gives Charles a little more with every thrust, going harder the more he starts to open up around him. Charles feels amazing now the burn has disappeared completely and turns into a burn of pleasure.
Pierre changes his angle slightly and searches for Charles' prostate, he knows he's found it when Charles all but screams in pure pleasure. Charles feels like he's on cloud nine, this is everything he wanted and more. Pierre chuckles at the blissed out look on Charles face. "I can make you feel ever better." Pierre reaches down between their bodies and takes Charles' angry red cock into his hand and strokes him to the same pace as his thrusts.
"Holy, shit." Charles bucks up into Pierre's hand getting as much from him as he possibly can. "Fuck Pierre, this is exactly what I wanted you are so fucking amazing." Pierre chuckles at how quickly Charles is losing it and with one quick flick of his wrist, Charles is coming. "Fuck, Pierre-" Charles cuts off and throws his head back, hips arching up off the bed as comes hard, spilling his load over his own stomach and Pierre's hand.
"Woah Charles, that was so fucking hot." Pierre growls, squeezing Charles hips a little tighter, thrusting into him a little harder, not quite as much as he would like, not wanting to hurt Charles at all during his first time. Pierre can't wait for the future they have together of rough passionate sex or at least Pierre hopes, he doesn't want to lose Charles, especially not after this. Now he has him like this, he never wants to let him go.
Charles is still limp and in his post orgasm high and absent mildly clenches down around Pierre and that's all it takes to send Pierre to the point of no return, he growls as he comes, screaming out Charles' name as he hits the most powerful orgasm of his life, practically exploding inside of Charles and fills him with his load.
Pierre presses a kiss into Charles sweaty forehead as he slowly eases out of him and takes Charles' well fucked out body into his arms. Charles sighs contentedly, and rests his head on Pierre's shoulder, enjoying the way his fingers feel in Charles hair.
"Thank you for being so sweet to me and taking it slowly." Charles sighs happily. "Thank you for letting me be your first, I feel so honoured."
Charles is about to close his eyes and let himself sleep in Pierre's strong arms when the though comes to his mind. "Do you think Lando and George got their wishes as well?"
"Oh, most definitely"
A/N I think I am going to make this into a mini series with the two ships
#pierre gasly#charles leclerc#Piarles#carlos sainz#lando norris#Carlando#alex albon#george russell#Galex#fanfction#formula 1 fanfiction#fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#mxm#fanfiction#formula 1#formula one#mxm smut
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any bottom charles fic recommendations? Preferably light angst or no angst
#lestappen#piarles#charlos#sebchal#chewis#charles leclerc#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#charles fanfiction
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f1 fanfic recs (part 2) pierre/charles
other f1 fic rec lists here
f1 fic rec masterlist here
personal favorites are starred, by the way.
everything is complete unless stated otherwise.
I’m Never Gonna Waste My Love On Anyone Else by EspiTheWarlock (~1k) 3rd part of a series
[“Pierre, what the hell is this?”
“Are you saying no?”
“Am I saying…what the fuck…I’m not…you haven’t even asked me a question!”
“It doesn’t seem like I need to.”]
Destiny's Got Us So Intertwined by chilisainz55 (msrogersstark) (~2k)
[“It’s simple, really,” George says offhandedly to Pierre while they wait to do media after the race in Hungary. He always says things so matter of fact, like there’s no way that it can go wrong. Pierre doesn’t see it the same way. It can only go wrong.
“What is so simple about it?” Pierre rolls his eyes.
“You and I both want the same thing,” George explains, adjusting his Mercedes cap.
“And what’s that?”]
George and Pierre both want attention from other drivers... a plan is formed
jealousy shenanigans.
For Where the Four Winds Blow by flamingosarepink (~2k)
[It’s hard not to notice how much healthier he looks these days, with color back in his cheeks and clothes that actually fit in all the right places. He smiles, a lot more than he used to anyway, but something about his presence keeps Pierre guarded. Guarded, as if he can’t pretend there is some part of him that still needs defending. The silence that stands between them even as Pierre closes the door behind Charles seems to says it all.]
this was so angsty, i loved it
psychic lover (only for you) by strongestavenger (~2k)
Charles hears his soulmate's thoughts for the first time at age seven.
A year later, he meets Pierre.
baby just say yes by ohmygasly (singsweetmelodies) (~3k)
["There you are," Charles says as Pierre sits down, and it comes out softer than he intended. He's still holding Pierre's hand, and Pierre's new position on the back of the vintage car means that he looks down at Charles like - well, like a prince and his knight.
It's a ridiculous image, of course, but it's also… fitting, in a strange way. Charles has always seen Pierre as special, and worthy, and brave, and beautiful - all the things a prince should be, even if Pierre doesn't see it himself. And, of course, Charles would do anything for Pierre's favour, like any good knight. ]
Pierre, Charles, and that moment from the Monza 2022 drivers' parade.
when the curtains close and all of the lights go down by ohmygasly (singsweetmelodies) (~3k)
[Charles wraps his arms around Pierre's waist and breathes him in, and for the first time it feels like he can truly let go of all the feelings he's been holding tightly bottled up inside himself ever since the rain and the tractor and everything that meant.
There hadn't been time for a hug directly after Suzuka. There had been so much to do with both of their teams, and Pierre had needed to go to the stewards too, for that bullshit penalty, and –
And Charles hadn't realised just how much he needed this hug. Not just any hug, from anyone, but exactly this with Pierre, where it feels like Pierre is wrapping up Charles' body and his soul and his heart alike.]
Suzuka in the rain is never easy, for any of them. But Pierre and Charles find each other, like they always do.
warning: deals with grief.
If I were proper, I’d have a chance; not with you, but somebody else by ShiwiSins (IetjeSiobhan) (~4k)
[I’m an omega now, what about propriety, Charles wants to ask, and also, what do I have to do to get you to touch me more, and he asks neither and simply presses his thigh a little closer.]
a/b/o with idiots who don't think they're dating already.
so good at pretending (i'm even fooling myself) by wunderlichkind (~4k)
[“You and…” Charles swallows. “You and Ilies?”
Pierre picks up on the question in it, but he doesn‘t… “What about me and Ilies?”
“You… are you guys. Together, then?“ Charles stutters it out, almost winces at whatever must be playing on Pierre‘s face after. He stumbles over his next words.]
all you never say is that you love me so by tiredtiredsharl (~5k)
5 times Charles said something while he thought Pierre was asleep + 1 time Pierre said something while he knew Charles was awake.
i truly fell in love with this fic.
all of me (a wound to close) by chemtrailsky (~5k)
[There is a constant tremor in Pierre’s hands that won't leave these days.
It’s barely noticeable, he guesses. Neither Horner nor Marko have mentioned it yet, and they’ve never been known for their subtlety.]
Or: Pieces of Pierre’s life told through a day of meals.
warning: has to do with issues with food/eating.
*maybe i don't want heaven by duquesademiel, tiredtiredsharl (~6k)
Pierre kneels thrice: once in front of God and twice in front of Charles.
warning: blasphemy? i'm not sure what the correct word for it is. i'm not religious, so to me this was a masterpiece.
*Verlangen (longing) by Whippasnappa (~8k)
[“Perhaps we can make each other feel better.” he offers.
Max stares at Pierre's hand on his thigh. He’s surprised.
“You cannot be serious.” he says flatly.
Pierre shrugs, but he also slides his hand further up. Oh, he is serious. Max’s eyes dart around the room, panicked, but no one is looking. Daniel is not here. Charles is not watching. Neither of them would care, anyway.
“You can sit here all night and mope about it. Or,” he leans in closer to Max, drops his voice even further to a whisper. “We can go back to the hotel and I can fuck your brains out.”
He pulls back, taking his hand off Max, leaning back in the booth.
“Your choice.” he says evenly, like he doesn’t really care either way.]
pierre's an absolute menace here. max/daniel is also a ship in this fic. pierre/max have a temporary thing.
Where I Buried My Heart (& You) by Laeana (~8k)
It's 2030, Pierre has won 2 championships, 46 races, 25 pole positions and he's announcing his retirement at the end of the year.
And Charles doesn't know how to cope with it, doesn't even understand it.
I was a firecracker, baby, with something to prove by tiredtiredsharl (~9k) part of a series
Pierre was from one of those families that people who rejected the idea of soulmates, held up as an example as to why the concept of soulmates was antiquated.
Pierre was…Pierre knew that sometimes soulmate pairings failed. He knew that sometimes soulmate bonds were rejected. He knew that soulmates weren’t infallible and he knew that he had two parents who weren’t soulmates and were happier than some of the bonded pairs he knew.
It’s not that he didn’t want a soulmate. He just knew that the fairytale of soulmate bonds was just that - a fairytale.
Pierre wasn’t waiting around for a soulmate and maybe that meant he stayed 25 forever.
And maybe that was okay with him.
Or: 5 times Pierre worked towards accepting Charles as his soulmate and the one time he knew he was.
Upside down, bouncing off the ceiling by emotionalsupportfastcars (~12k)
[AlphaTauriF1: not gonna lie, thinking a second can of Red Bull would help kickstart the day
AlpineF1Team: Do it 😁 [intensifying intensifies]
AlphaTauriF1: if there are typos in our tweets later, you’ll know why
Inspired by real-life Alpha Tauri and Alpine tweets.
Pierre Gasly is AlphaTauri’s social media admin and Esteban Ocon is Alpine’s social media admin. Over the past few months, some Twitter conversations between AlphaTauri and Alpine have gone viral. Which means that both Pierre and Esteban are exceeding all their job targets.
There’s just one problem. Neither Pierre nor Esteban realise that the other social media admin is their former childhood friend.
One day, thanks to an unhinged media admin, Pierre drinks too much Red Bull and panics. As Charles, Pierre’s housemate, takes care of Pierre, he is forced to confront his growing crush on Pierre, all while wondering whether Pierre has a crush on Alpine’s social media admin.]
or: In which Pierre regains a childhood friend and somehow gets a boyfriend.
awww this one was adorable.
*Home Is Where the Heart Is... by welightitup (~15k) part one of a series "Who's that Guy?
[“George and Charles?!” Pierre exclaims, with no other context or explanation.
“What about them?” Yuki asks rather calmly, given the situation. But then again, it’s not like he’s affected by it in any way or form. That’s been reserved for just Alex and Pierre.
“They’re our George and Charles!” Alex adds to the conversation, and he can see the exact moment it all clicks in Yuki’s brain as his pinched features open right up into pure surprise.
“Nooo!” Yuki draws out, arms dropping in shock. “Really?”]
aka the New Girl AU where everyone is everyone's exes. Except for Yuki.
*... And My Heart Is With You by ohmygasly (singsweetmelodies) (~16k) part two of a series "Who's that Guy?
[The more time they all spend together, the more his roommates are slowly starting to drive him insane. It's not because Charles and George turned out to be assholes after the first few weeks. No, they're both still as nice as ever. They're just… pining, which is much worse, in Yuki's eyes.
What makes it even worse is that Charles and George aren't even pining for each other. Oh no. They are pining for Pierre and Alex, respectively – but Pierre and Alex don't seem to realise that. They just pine right back, because they for some reason believe that Charles and George are dating.
How they are missing the obvious longing looks, Yuki has no idea. All he knows is that something has got to change around here, or all four of his flatmates are in danger of being thrown head-first into the Seine.]
AKA: misunderstandings in the loft are at an all-time high. What will it take for it all to be sorted out?
ugh i love this series so much, pierre/charles are a ship, but so are george/alex.
moonlight making crosses on your body by quietrumblings (whisperedwords) (~23k) incomplete, has smut
(a collection of pierre/charles one-shots. subjects will vary. updates will be sporadic.)
featuring:
2. WAG!Pierre
7. jealous!charles
9. sickfic
11. blasphemy (affectionate)
i've forgotten which one's i've read, but i'm sure they are all amazing.
kiss me hard before you go by lewisshamilton (~24k) part of a series
The Royal Family of Monaco is a mess and Charles knows that. Of course he knows that, after all he’s the biggest mess of all of them - not that he’d care. He’s young, rich, charming, loved by his people - and he has absolutely no idea what he wants from life.
overtime by quietrumblings (whisperedwords) (~28k)
[Charles, for a beat, looks relieved. Then he takes a breath, rubs at one eye, and says it: “I want to do Le Mans.”
Pierre raises an eyebrow. “You have been retired for not even two years, Charlo. I don’t think they would say no to a multi-year world champion, but even still—”
“Pierre,” Charles interrupts, still looking serious. Pierre stops talking immediately. “I want us to do Le Mans. Together.”]
(or: in the 2030s, pierre and charles decide to actually race le mans the way they've always dreamed of. they figure some things out along the way.)
hahaha one of the tags is "Middle Aged Best Friends Discover It's Been Romantic This Whole Time!" and i think that is very hilarious and fitting.
*evocatio by vicsy (~35k)
Some still look at him and whisper, Il Predestinato comes forth, but Charles disregards the old legends. In another chapter of the story written by gods, he wants to be remembered as Charles Leclerc — a mortal, a race car driver, a winner.
In a life beyond the deafening rev of running engines and a tart taste of adrenaline, Charles wishes for the simplicity of being a brother, a friend, a lover.
But racing, undoubtedly, forever comes first.
au with gods/goddess still in racing verse tho. it makes sense when you read it. poor charles suffers so much. this was a work of art.
**phantoms and pencil marks by Cazio (~50k)
[Pierre woke to a boy sitting next to his bed.]
Amnesia!AU.
this fic is my roman empire. it's gonna break your heart and you are not gonna be able to move on i promise.
there's so many more in the want to read list, i'll get to them i promise.
#f1 fic rec#f1 fanfiction#f1#formula one fanfiction#formula one#formula 1#pierre gasly#charles leclerc#piarles#cl16#pg10
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change my mind
fic (M, 31,8k words) // playlist
When Lance drags him to a Drama Club meeting, Pierre doesn't expect to stay there more than maybe thirty minutes.
He doesn't expect to meet a guy like Charles there either, which changes things - for the better, he thinks.
here's my entry for the Piarles Winter Fic Exchange, written for the lovely @duquesademiel 💖
extra edit under the cut!!
#okay i am stupid and i didn't hit post on this yesterday BUT HERE IT IS#ily sol💖💖💖#1610#piarles fic#justi writes#piarles fanfiction
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open prompt #2
prompt masterlist
Series: Formula 1
Individuals: Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly
Ships: Charles Leclerc/Pierre Gasly
Setting: Alternate Universe
Premise: Charles is up and coming talent in his chosen profession (F1 driver, model, fashion designer, concert pianist etc.) and travels the world so often that having a permanent home doesn’t make sense, so he choses to live in a hotel suite in his favorite city (Paris, Monaco, New York, Milan etc.). Pierre is a concierge at hotel that Charles is living in and can get clients anything they want; reservations at restaurants booked out months in advance, tickets to sold out concerts, even VIP events that only the elite in the city know about.
There’s an event in town later that night that Charles is dying to get into, but for one reason or another his personal team can’t get him in, so desperate, he goes to Pierre who works his magic by calling in every contact he has and gets Charles on the VIP list which allows Charles to network with individuals that will give him a huge boost to his career. Because all of this couldn’t have happened without Pierre, Charles goes back and thanks him and the two become fast friends. Charles learns that Pierre has big plans of his own and that his job at the hotel is only until he can build his savings up to start chasing his own dreams. Because Charles is thankful to have Pierre as a friend, and to try and pay him back, Charles uses his own network to try and help Pierre get started.
Notes: Inspired by the relationship between Anna and Neff in Inventing Anna but without the manipulation or shady behavior.
additional headcanons under the cut
I imagine Pierre’s dream job is related to Charles’ career, just so it makes sense that Charles would have some influence (e.g. Charles is a model and Pierre is a designer or photographer)
Pierre is upset and feels guilty that Charles feels the need to try and pay him back for doing his job and part of the reason for being upset is because Pierre wants to be able to earn it all himself; his emotions manifest as jealousy and he becomes a little distant with Charles and starts to push him away
Charles has a tendency to convince Pierre to end his shift early so they can go out and get dinner or do things (usually on Charles’ dime)
Pierre’s co-workers (Yuki, Daniel, Esteban etc.) all tease Pierre about his boyfriend, but Pierre insists that he and Charles are just friends
At some point Charles gets himself a boyfriend/fuck buddy that he brings back to the hotel and because Pierre’s desk is near the elevators, he sees them walk by and gets jealous
Charles goes through some kind of heartbreak/disappointment (didn’t get a show he wanted to book, loses a race in a horrible fashion) and is extremely upset. Pierre is there to comfort him and that’s how they make up
When they finally get together, they go through the typical “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship” “I didn’t think you felt the same way” stuff and it’s very cute
#Piarles#charles leclerc fanfiction#pierre gasly fanfiction#Piarles fanfiction#f1 fanfiction#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc fanfic#pierre gasly fanfic#formula one fanfction#formula one fanfic#open prompt
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Hello!!! What’s the piarles guard dog fic you were referring to please? 🥵🥵😭😭😭 sounds like my cup of tea!! Thanks so much!!
thank you SO much for asking, i love this fic and i think about it all the time!!!
it's floatin' but i'm heavy by quietrumblings on ao3. while you're at it, you may as well read all of their other fics as well. everything by them i've read is top tier. i hope you enjoy it just as much as i did!!
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As long as I’ll have your future, it’ll be enough, but are you even reserving this part of your life for me?
Sorryyyy I saw this and I had to make it a piarles somehow 🫣🫣
#f1#writing#fanfiction#ao3#pierre gasly#charles leclerc#piarles#angsty#as often with them#considering I still have in my draft that fic where Charles cheats on Pierre#I guess my definition of them is always angst#— with a happy ending ?#maybe#edits#quotes#1016
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Chapter 1 is out !
Comments are always liked and encourage me to continue
#ollie bearman#kimi antonelli#bearnelli#f1#F2#maraudeurs#formula 1#harry potter#marauders era#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3#please help#i wrote something#i would die for him#alex albon#f1 grid#galex#oscar piastri#piarles#pierre gasly#charles leclerc#op81#landoscar#lando norris#queer#dumbledore bashing#fuck jkr#maxiel#daniel ricciardo
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Charles Leclerc / Pierre Gasly
Title: What's my name again?
Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Pierre Gasly
Characters: Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly
Prompt: I just want Charles fucking the shit out of Pierre until he’s a complete mess and can’t remember his own name.
Pierre groans as Charles slams his back into the closing door of the hotel room. Charles wastes no time and slams their mouths together. The kiss is hard and passionate, Pierre is struggling to keep up with him. Pierre loves when Charles is in this kind of mood, it's not very often dominant Charles comes out to play but when he does Pierre finds himself rewarded with hard and passionate sex which he loves every minute of. Not that he'd ever tell Charles that, but still.
Charles breaks the kiss leaving Pierre a heavily panting mess. Charles locks their eyes together, a small smile playing on his lips which sends a shiver of excitement down Pierre's spine. "I want to forget about my race, but you deserve to be rewarded for yours." Charles pushes his fingers into Pierre's hair and pulls. "I'm going to fuck you so good, you'll forget your own name." Pierre cannot wait. His thoughts are suddenly interrupted when Charles uses the hand in his hair to push Pierre onto his knees.
"You know what to do." Charles smirks at him while opening the zipper on his pants and takes his cock out, while not removing his trousers. Pierre takes Charles' cock into his hand and licks his lips. He wants to push Charles even more though. "I have no clue what you wan-"
Pierre gets exactly what he's hoping for when Charles cuts him off by slamming his cock down his throat. Pierre focus' on breathing through his noise as Charles gives him no time to prepare and starts thrusting into his throat, the noises pulled from Pierre's throat are almost pornographic. He knows Charles is enjoying himself from the moans he's making.
Charles swipes a tear away running down Pierre's cheeks, the force of Charles' thrusts are making him teary but he feels so good just having Charles using his throat. Charles takes Pierre by the chin and lovingly brushes a finger across it, he can't help but lean into it. "You okay down there?"
Pierre does go make a sound but it's muffled by the cock in his throat, which the pulls another moan from the younger man. Pierre is rewarded by the first few drops of pre cum which he swallows greedily. "Got a bit of a mouthful there Pierre?" Charles thrusts deeper and hold him there until his vision starts to go dark around the edges, before he's roughly pushed off, Charles' cock slaps against his cheek.
"I don't even have to touch you and you're already hard." Charles raises an eyebrow, glaring at the obvious outline of his bulge through his pants. Pierre licks his lips in response trying to look as seductively as he possibly can. Charles is still staring at him, Pierre shivers waiting for the next order.
"Strip, I want to see your body." Pierre doesn't waste a single second and instantly removes his clothes, pulling off his Alpine jersey and drops onto the floor, his jeans soon following. He's not sure if he's supposed to take his underwear off or not.
"Well Pierre, what about your underwear?" Charles is raising his eyebrows. "I didn't-" Charles cuts him off, his eyebrows still raised with his hands on his hips. "Do you want to get fucked or not?" Pierre shrugs happily and kicks off his underwear into the pile of clothes already on the floor.
"Very nice, Pierre." Charles looks him up and down, Pierre feels slightly exposed being the only naked person in the room. "Get onto the bed." Pierre walks over to the bed and plops himself down, locking eyes with Charles who is walking towards him.
Charles jumps up onto the bed, still fully clothed and sits on Pierre's waist, pinning his hands to the bed behind him. Having Charles so close but not touching him in any way is pure torture, Pierre can't help the moans of frustration falling from his lips.
"Please?" Pierre moans bucking up his hips looking for any kind of contact. "Please?" Charles repeats, raising his hips, leaving Pierre with only air for friction. "Please Charles." Pierre tries again, his cock is embarrassingly hard, he's desperate for any kind of friction. "Please fuck me." Charles' laughs an evil smile playing on his lips. "If you can keep quiet, I will fuck you." Pierre glares at him, which only makes Charles' smile even wider. "Good boy."
Pierre lays back and keeps him mouth firmly shut and he's rewarded with Charles grinding down onto him. It's embarrassing that he's moaning loudly at the little cock but it feels like he's been hard for hours. "So needy Pierre."
Charles shoves two fingers into his mouth, Pierre starts sucking on them eagerly, carefully licking around each finger getting them nice and wet. Charles lets them slip out a long line of saliva connects Charles' fingers to Pierre's mouth. Charles slides off Pierre's hips and settles in between his spread legs.
"Let me know if it gets too much." Charles raises Pierre's hips slightly and massages around his hole. Pierre forces himself to relax, he already can't wait to feel Charles inside of him. "Such a slut Pierre, it's only fingers." Charles pushes the two fingers inside of him. "Only a slut for you." Pierre moans, embarrassingly loud as Charles starts to fuck him with them, sliding them in and out at furious pace. Charles soon rewards him by slamming into his prostate. The overwhelming amount of pleasure, is almost becoming too much to handle so he sneaks his hand between legs and starts to jerk himself off.
"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Charles slaps his hand away. "I need to." Pierre whines, he knows he sounds needy and pathetic but he doesn't care. "Put your hands behind your head, or you can jerk yourself off while I leave."
He does as he's told, but that doesn't stop him pouting up at Charles, who doesn't seem bothered in the slightest and continues fucking Pierre with his fingers, soon adding a third finger and still torturing Pierre with the slamming into his prostate. Just when he thinks he can't take anymore, Charles takes pity on him and lets his fingers slip out.
"Do you want my cock Pierre?" Pierre wraps his legs around Charles' waist and moans loudly. "Please Charles, I need it. I need you in me." Charles finally rips off his own clothing and then settles on the bed, laying besides Pierre. Leaving Pierre feeling very frustrated and very confused.
"Charles? What the fuck are you doing?" Pierre sits up and locks their eyes together. Charles obviously has something hiding up his sleeve because he can't keep the stupid smirk off his face. "You want me Pierre? Then fuck yourself." Pierre eyes up Charles' very hard cock then he understands. "You want me to ride you?"
Pierre crawls down Charles' body and crouches over his cock, placing one leg either side of Charles' hips, bumping the head of his cock against Pierre's hole. "Come on Pierre, i'm waiting." He digs his finger nails into Charles' shoulder and slowly starts to sink down, impaling himself on Charles' cock. Charles is fucking huge and the stretch hurts a little bit from the lack of lube but he soon reaches the hilt, moaning loudly feeling full to the brim of Charles.
"Are you fine Pierre?" Pierre nods biting his lip as he squeezes down experimentally around Charles, pulling a groan from the younger man. "So big, so full." Pierre places the palms of his hands against Charles' muscled chest for leverage and slowly lifts himself up, the drops back down. He moans loudly as the angle forces Charles' cock straight onto his prostate. Pierre tries to get a proper rhythm going but Charles hitting his prostate every time is sending him into a frenzy making his legs shake from pure pleasure.
Charles soon becomes impatient and grips tightly onto Pierre's hips and helps him ride up and down, bouncing higher and faster with every thrust. Pierre is losing it pretty quickly, even with Charles' help he's still battering into his prostate with every thrust. He can't hold back anymore he comes hard, splattering his load over Charles' chest. Pierre loses his balance during his orgasm and collapses on top of Charles' body.
"Wow Charles, you nearly killed me." Charles growls in response and lets his cock slip out of Pierre's body. "If you think I am finished with you, you have another thing coming." Pierre's orgasm fucked out brain has only just released Charles hasn't come yet. "What do you want me to do?" Charles glares at him. "Get on your hands and knees."
Pierre does as he's told, his body is exhausted and shaking but he already can't wait to feel Charles inside of him again and places his ass high in the air. Pierre looks over his shoulder just as Charles' places a hard slap on his ass. It burns and from the force of Pierre is quite sure he'll have a nice red hand print on his skin. "Fuck do it again."
"I'm the one in charge here Pierre, not you." Charles bites his lip, quite clearly trying to stop the smirk from forming on his face. Charles does spank him again, his hand swishes at through the air followed by the harsh slap echoing across the room. "That's for begging." The first slap is soon followed by another one, taking Pierre by surprise. "That's for coming too early." The finally one more, which is extra hard and crackles like a bolt of electricity "And that one is for being a needy little whore."
"I'm going to fuck you now." Charles kneeles behind him and presses the head of his cock against Pierre's already abused hole. Charles runs his hand over the freshly made marks on Pierre's ass cheeks. "You look so good like this."
That's all the warning Pierre gets before Charles sinks inside of him, he slides in easily and reaches the hilt in one swift move. Charles gives him no time to adjust, he doesn't need it really and pulls all the way out only to slam back inside again, repeating the motion a couple of times. Charles soon settles into a hard, rough pace, fucking Pierre with so much force that he loses his balance, leaving him face down ass up on the bed. Pierre rests his face on his hands as Charles fucks him with so much pace and so much power Pierre can't think of anything but Charles, Charles, Charles.
"You're exhausted Pierre, lay on your back." Pierre barely hears the words but he does as he's told, flopping down on top of the cool bed sheets. Charles is not finished with him just yet though and places his hands on the headboard behind Pierre's head and thrusts into him with all his might.
Pierre is quite sure he has never been fucked as hard in his life, the force is brutal and the only sound in the room is skin slapping against skin. Charles is close, Pierre can tell by the shaking of his hips and the erratic movements to his thrusts. Pierre yelps as Charles bites down hard onto his shoulder as he comes, filling up Pierre with his milky white seed.
Charles climbs off him instantly and disappears into the bathroom. Pierre feels so fucking good right now, it's like he's floating away and lost in the clouds somewhere. Charles comes back with a warm cloth and washes the mess away from his body.
"Pierre, are you fine?" Pierre forces himself to look at Charles, the younger man looks horrified. "Yeah why?" He manages to choke out but his voice sounds wrecked and he still feels floaty. "You have bruises all over your hips and my hand print all over your ass."
"I'm so sorry Pierre." Pierre finds himself pulled into a strong cuddle, Charles' arms wrapped protectively around him. Pierre's mind is starting to return to normal, something about having Charles close to him brings him back down to earth.
"Why are you sorry?" Pierre asks eventually, finally feeling much more like himself. "I thought, I might have hurt you." Charles plants a kiss onto Pierre's forehead. "You didn't but it's a good thing we're not racing tomorrow, don't think i'll be able to sit down.
Charles comforting eyes are the last thing he sees as he falls asleep, feeling safe, loved and protected. He loves Charles more than anything and he's quite sure Charles feels exactly the same way.
#charles leclerc#pierre gasly#piarles#formula 1 fanfiction#fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#mxm#fanfiction#formula 1#formula one#mxm smut
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drabble: after finishing 4th place, and criticizing himself during media, charles go back to his hotel not really in the mood to celebrate. He really wanted to get podium, even better the top step, for himself but especially for jules. So he's in his hotel room after media etc, freshly showered in clean comfy clothes. He's wrapped up in the blankets lamenting over today's race. After his upteenth time sighing out loud came a knock on his door. He goes to see who it is and its (any driver of choice). They order room service and just cuddles and soft fluffy shit. (Any driver of choice) is comforting charles and just praising him like he deserves.
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