Formula One Angst - Tumblr Posts

all too well - l.h & p.g

summary: in which an angry pierre stuffs his relationship up and desperately tries to make it up to his devoted girlfriend. and while trying to make up for it he realizes that he’s already lost her to a certain british man. loosely based on ‘all to well’ by taylor swift. 

warnings: A N G S T, I REPEAT, A N G S T, profanity, drinking, just sadness, toxicity, anger, crying, screaming, pining?? if unhealthy relationships/toxic relationships hurt you or offend you, 2022 british grand prix (ifykyk), mentions of eating disorders and body dysmorphia and shitty mental health

word count: 2.0k

pairing: lewis hamilton x female reader, asshole!pierre gasly x female reader, platonic!f1 drivers x female reader, platonic!wags x female reader

requested: yes! here! highly recommend listening to all too well.

It was horrible. 

You had been sitting with the engineers during the Grand Prix, cheering your boyfriend Pierre on as you watched on. You felt as if the world stopped when him and Yuki spun off in unison. You could feel the world stop around you as you silently prayed they were okay. 

Collective groans of disappointment and shouts of anger broke out around you as you quickly flicked on the switch in front of you, allowing you to speak to your Pierre. “Pierre! Honey please, say something!” But you didn’t, just Yuki’s outburst of anger.

“Here.” Pierre replied as you let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You sunk into your seat as you held your head in your hands, shielding your face from the Netflix cameras which no doubt wanted your reaction for a dramatic made-up plot line for the next season of Drive to Survive. 

It wasn’t long after before Pierre angrily walked through the Garage, frustration radiating from him as he weighed himself before stomping off. You followed him to his drivers room before shutting the door. Before you could turn around he stuffed his face into your neck as he broke out in sobs. 

“Shh, I know. Pierre baby I know, it's okay.” You spoke as your hands combed through his tangled hair. “Y/n. Always me? All the bad things, me. What did I do to deserve it?” The French-man cried as you felt yourself begin to cry too. “It’s not you love. You know it was Yuki’s fault. He’ll own up to it, I know he will. You’re amazing okay don’t beat yourself up over this. It was absolutely out of your hands. You know that. You did your best.”

“It is! But that doesn’t make up for my shitty season! I don’t deserve this.” He shouted. “Pierre, not here. Don’t get angry here. The media will eat it up, let’s go home. Fuck the interviews. I’ll make you feel better okay? Whatever you want, we’ll do it mon chéri.” 

“Fuck the media! Fuck you! Fucking isn’t going to make up for me missing out this race okay? You can’t make me feel better with food or cuddling Y/n.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying Pierre! Please let’s get out of here, please, please.” 

“This is my fucking job. I can’t just leave because I’m mad. I’m not a model who sells photos of my self for money okay? My job isn’t easy like yours.” 

You scoffed, “Easy? Easy? My job isn’t just sitting around looking pretty. Shit goes on behind the scenes that you have no idea about. Bitchy models, photographers judging you all day, every day, tabloids and media making up  the most absurd rumours up and everyone eating them up, shitty mental health, body image issues, starving yourself to fit in a dress! Just because you sit in a car, racing at 200 kilometres an hour and have a dangerous job doesn’t make my job any less than yours!” 

“Mon amour-”

“No! I’m sick of this! You taking your shitty results out on me when I have nothing to do with it! You are driving the car, not me. Your fans attacking and picking apart our relationship and you letting them. You never defend me when interviewers ask the most foul questions about me. ‘Is she good in bed?’ are you kidding me?! ‘Oh you have no idea.’ And then laughing it off. Travelling the world and never getting out, constantly on the move. It’s so draining. Cancelling fucking Paris Fashion Week when I have never missed a year because you convinced me too. You. All you. I’ve missed out on huge movie and TV show deals, Bullet Train, Euphoria, No Way Home, Don’t fucking Worry Darling. Harry fucking Styles!” You shouted in his face as he sighed.

(Bare with me I know Paris FW is a few weeks before Bahrain)

“Then fucking go! God if I hold you back so much leave! I don’t fucking need you here, anywhere matter of fact. I don’t need you Y/n. I can get anyone I fucking want. Go to Harry Styles. Go to whoever you fucking want. Whine to them. They’ll never love you like I do. Fuck you like I do. You need me. But then again you. You need me, I don’t need you so fuck off. Get your shit and leave bitch.”

(foul, im so sorry 😭😭)

“Mate what are you doing!” Charles shouted as he burst through the door, followed by Charlotte, Isabel and Carlos. “Oh baby I’m so sorry.” Charlotte said softly as she and Isa wrapped you in a hug. You didn’t react. You didn’t even know what was happening. What pulled you out of your trance was the groaning of your boyfriend, well, ex now.

“What the fuck Charles?” Pierre yelled as Charles retracted his fist from his face.

Lewis ran in at the sound of yelling, Angela hot in his tail. “What the hell is going-” Lewis stopped dead in his tracks at the scene, Pierre soothing his right cheek, Charles with balled fists, Carlos pulling Charles away while Isa and Charlotte hugged you. You. 

You with your mascara stained face. You with your sobs and sniffles. 

It broke him. 

“My beautiful, beautiful Y/n.” He whispered as Isa and Charlotte slowly handed you off to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed your forehead. As you stood in the hallway with him you felt, safe, loved. Which meant a lot since you hadn’t felt comfortable in a long time. 

You could feel the pain. The anger. The late nights worrying whether Pierre would come home or not. Trying to soothe him after bad races only to be met with a empty hotel room the second you took your eyes off of him. The rumours and the side eyes that floated around the grid when you walked hand in hand with him even after videos of him getting too handsy with some rando at a club surfaced and spiralled. Even your friends and family contacted you, your best friends Maddi and Sayda had reached out to see if you were okay.

‘Poor girl probably doesn’t even know.’

‘Why is she still with him? Oh god is she pregnant?’

‘She probably cheats too, you know how models are.’

But none of that mattered, as long as you were with Lewis. “Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” Charlotte said as she linked her arm with yours, “Don’t waste your tears on him sweetheart.” Isa whispered as she moved your hair out of your face.

“What the fuck is he doing with my girlfriend?” Pierre yelled at Carlos as he pointed at Lewis. 

“She is not and will never be your girlfriend again. You’re disgusting. It’s one thing to be angry and accidentally yell. But calling one of the most gorgeous, intelligent women on this Earth a bitch? Fucking despicable. She’s always been there for you, patient. When literal video proof came out of you cheating she didn’t blow up on you, start posting about you, start attacking you. No. Because she’s too kind for that and you took advantage of it and her. Y/n came straight to you for an explanation. And she told me your explanation, it was quite literally the worst fucking lie I’ve ever heard. ‘She thought I was her boyfriend.’ and ‘I thought it was you.’ Are you fucking kidding me man? You knew she wasn’t even in the country, she was on a plane, flying to your race after cutting a photoshoot with fucking Victoria’s Secret to come support you. You ruined her. You took away her opportunities because of your own selfishness. You will never find someone like her again. You fucked up. And I hope you kick yourself when you realize what you lost. Who you lost. Y/n is a thousand times more deserving of a man. Not a boy, someone who can’t even respect his own girlfriends career.”

Pierre stood there as Lewis walked away. If he stayed there any longer, looking at his idiotic face, god he would’ve swung.

But that was all in the past. 

Months ago. Seven to be exact.

And now?

Now you were making your way down the runway, in a stunning Donatella Versace dress in front of thousands. The crowd was roaring, cheering the models on as you all displayed the clothing. Your face dead straight. 

That was one of the things you praised yourself on. So did the media. You were known to never ever break face when on the runway. Always professional and well handled. But it was bound to happen. Your four year streak broken. 

As you made your way to the end of the runway your eye caught on to a certain braided hair man, who was hard to miss with his bright pink outfit. And god did he look amazing. As you looked at him he smiled, blowing a kiss. 

Your eyes crinkled as your lips turned upwards. Blowing a kiss back.

The media ate it up.

‘Y/n Y/l/n finally broke face on the runway, the reason? Seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton! Seems the model has moved on from her breakup with Lewis’ colleague and fellow racer Pierre Gasly.’

‘Lewis Hamilton culprit of the wide smile plastered on Y/n Y/l/n’s face during the Versace launch.’

‘Lewis Hamilton and Y/n Y/l/n share their relationship to the public!’

And Lewis could not be more proud of himself when he walked into the paddock, his hand entangled with yours. He was happy to show you off, respectfully of course. But Lewis wasn’t always kind, sometimes mischievous. 

So when he saw the idiot that was Pierre Gasly, jaw dropped and eyes threatening to hop out of his head at the sight in front of him while seated at the Alpha Tauri hospitality whilst having lunch with Yuki he decided to have some fun.

Taking your hand and spinning you in towards him, shortly before kissing you.

“That little fucker.” Pierre swore as he ogled you. “That’s what you get when you fuck up, badly.” Daniel snickered as he walked past, towards the two of you. “Danny!” You smiled as you engulfed him in a warm hug. 

“Missed me a bit too much Y/n/n.” Daniel smirked, “Lewis you better hold on to her tight, might just sweep her off her feet.” The McLaren driver joked as your boyfriend shook his head. “Seven months too late, I’ve been swept for as long as I can remember.” You grinned as you looked up at Lewis.

“You’re in love I get it.” Daniel laughed, “I’ll see you on the panel Lewis. See you tonight, my hotel room.” He joked towards you as he walked towards the conference hall, but not before winking your way. 

“Shit I have to go. If he comes anywhere near-” 

“I’ll be fine Lew, I promise. I have a guard dog in the form of Charles Leclerc ready to bite.” You smiled as you kissed him again. “Hey I do not bite!” Charles frowned as him and Carlos waited for you. 

“Sure thing Charles. Remember when you lost in uno to Lando-” Carlos smirked as Charles yelled, “Hey!” 

Lewis kissed your head, “Why would we ever think of having kids when we have those two assholes in red?”  “Rude.” Carlos stated as he and Charles crossed their arms in defense. “I’ll see you later my love.” He spoke before walking away. 

“Stop rustling his hair Carlos.” You scolded, “It’s not my fault he’s so short.” Charles scoffed, “Actually I am 180 cm, 5′9 thank you.” He spoke proudly as Sainz let out a laugh, “Mate, I’m 179.” The two of you chuckled and made your way to the Ferrari hospitality as the Monegasque tried to defend his height.

As you passed Alpha Tauri your eyes wandered and saw him. 

And you smiled as did he. But it didn’t mean you were over everything.

You remembered it.

All Too Well.

“Out of the plans” opened a floodgate and I want to write only angst, my God I'm turning into a monster