#but pierre's 'they have the final word'... really did something to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pucksandpower · 4 months

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Could’ve Had It All

Pierre Gasly x social media manager!Reader

Summary: Pierre Gasly has taken a lot from Esteban Ocon over the years … but losing you to him before Esteban ever even really had a chance to have you hurts the most

Based on this request (I wasn’t going to post this yet, but with the news that came out earlier some angst felt fitting)

Esteban makes his way down the narrow hallway of the Alpine motorhome, his heart pounding in his chest. This is it — he’s finally going to confess his feelings for you. He’s had a crush on you for years, ever since you started working with the team. Your sharp wit, radiant smile, and passion for the sport have captivated him from day one.

As he approaches your office door, he hears a strange noise coming from inside. It sounds like ... moaning? Esteban freezes, his brow furrowing in confusion. What’s going on in there? Against his better judgment, he reaches for the door handle and pushes the door open without knocking.

The sight that greets him makes his heart stop. There you are, pressed up against the wall, your fingers tangled in Pierre Gasly’s messy waves as he trails heated kisses down your neck.

Pierre, his teammate ... his rival ...

“What the hell?” Esteban blurts out before he can stop himself.

You and Pierre break apart instantly, faces flushed with embarrassment and ... something else. Desire? Esteban feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“Estie!” You exclaim, hastily smoothing down your rumpled clothing. “I ... we ...”

“You two are ...” Esteban can barely get the words out, his mouth suddenly dry.

Pierre straightens up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. There’s a defiant glint in his eyes as he slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Yeah, we are.”

Esteban’s world comes crashing down around him. All this time, he’d been harboring these feelings for you, dreaming of the day he might finally work up the courage to tell you how he felt. And now, to discover that you’re already taken ... and by his own teammate, no less.

“How long has this been going on?” He demands, his voice thick with emotion.

You bite your lip, unable to meet his gaze. “A few months.”

“A few months?” Esteban can’t believe what he’s hearing. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It’s not like that, Esteban,” Pierre interjects, his tone stern. “We didn’t mean for this to happen, it just ... did.”

“Sure, mate. Whatever you say.” Esteban shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t bear to look at the two of you, so intimately entwined. It’s like a knife twisting in his heart.

“Estie, please ...” you begin, taking a step towards him. But he holds up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice strained. “Just ... don’t.”

With that, he turns on his heel and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He needs to get out of here, needs to clear his head before he does or says something he’ll regret.

As he stalks through the paddock, Esteban’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal ... they all swirl together in a toxic mix that threatens to overwhelm him. How could you do this to him? And with Pierre, of all people?

He finds himself wandering aimlessly, his feet carrying him to the Alpine garage without conscious thought. Maybe some mindless work will help take his mind off this mess, at least for a little while.

But as he approaches the garage, he hears a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Esteban! There you are.”

It’s Pierre, jogging to catch up with him. Esteban grits his teeth, steeling himself for the confrontation he knows is coming.

“What do you want?” He snaps, turning to face his teammate.

Pierre holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. But you have to understand, what’s happening between me and Y/N ... it’s real, yeah? It’s not just some fling.”

“Oh, spare me the bullshit,” Esteban scoffs. “You’re sleeping with the social media manager, Pierre. How do you think that looks for the team?”

“It’s not just about sex,” Pierre insists, his brow furrowing. “I really care about her. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

Esteban laughs bitterly. “Right, and I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,” Pierre retorts, his jaw tightening. “But don’t act like you’re some victim in all this. We both know how you feel about her.”

Esteban tenses, hating how transparent his feelings for you have apparently been. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t it?” Pierre challenges. “Face it, you’re jealous. You’ve had your eye on her for ages, and now that she’s with me, you can’t handle it.”

“You’re delusional,” Esteban spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Pierre shakes his head, looking almost ... pitying? “Keep telling yourself that, mate. But the truth is, you had your chance with her. And you blew it.”

Those words hit Esteban like a physical blow. Because deep down, he knows Pierre is right. He had been too cowardly, too afraid of ruining your professional relationship to ever make a move.

And now, it’s too late.

“Just ... leave me alone, Pierre,” Esteban mutters, turning away. He can’t bear to look at his teammate’s smug face a second longer.

As he retreats into the garage, Esteban feels a profound sense of loss settle over him. He’s lost you, the woman he’s been pining after for years, to his own teammate and rival. How is he supposed to move on from that? How is he supposed to work alongside you and Pierre every day, knowing what he knows?

The rest of the race weekend passes by in a blur of forced smiles and awkward silences. Esteban does his best to avoid the two of you, throwing himself into his work as a distraction. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape the ache in his heart whenever he sees you both together.

Finally, as the chequered flag waves and the race comes to an end, Esteban allows himself a moment of respite. He sinks down onto a crate in the garage, burying his face in his hands as the weight of his heartbreak threatens to crush him.

“Estie?”

Your soft voice cuts through the chaos around him, and he tenses. Of course you would seek him out now, when he’s at his most vulnerable. He lifts his head, meeting your concerned gaze.

“What do you want?” He asks, his voice dull and lifeless.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I ... I just wanted to talk to you. About what happened.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Esteban shrugs, feigning indifference. “You’re with Pierre now. End of story.”

“It’s not that simple,” you protest, taking a step closer. “You’re one of my closest friends. I never wanted to hurt you.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Well, you did a bang-up job of that, didn’t you?”

You flinch at his harsh words, and Esteban immediately feels a pang of regret. This isn’t your fault, not really. You can’t help how you feel, just like he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “I never meant for any of this to happen. But ... Pierre makes me happy. In a way I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Esteban’s throat tightens at your words. Of course Pierre makes you happy. Stupidly handsome, charming Pierre with his easy smiles and effortless charisma. How could Esteban ever hope to compete with that?

“I’m glad he makes you happy,” Esteban manages to choke out, even as the words feel like shards of glass in his throat. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Your face softens, and you reach out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “You’ll find someone, Estie. Someone who makes you just as happy as Pierre makes me. I know it.”

Esteban wants to believe you, he really does. But in this moment, with his heart shattered into a million pieces, it’s hard to envision a future where he’s anything but hopelessly alone.

Still, he manages a weak smile for your sake. “Yeah, maybe someday.”

You return the smile, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “I should go find Pierre.”

The words are like a knife to Esteban’s battered heart, but he bites back the anguished retort that rises to his lips. This is your choice, your happiness. As much as it destroys him, he has to respect that.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

With one last lingering look, you turn and make your way across the garage, disappearing into the crowd. Esteban watches you go, mourning the future he had allowed himself to dream of — a future where you were his and his alone.

But that future is gone now before it ever had a chance to even take root. All that’s left is an aching emptiness where his heart used to be. Esteban closes his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath as a single tear trails down his cheek.

It’s over. The woman he loves is lost to him forever. And for the first time in his life, Esteban has no idea how to move forward from here. All he can do is pick up the shattered pieces of his broken heart, and hope that one day, somehow, they’ll mend.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

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The Taste of Temptation {2} || DR3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader Summary: Back by popular demand...possessive Daniel and his kitten who keeps getting into trouble thanks to the other drivers. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, age gap (13 years) reader is 20, smut, anal, cream pie, bj, cumplay WC: 5.6k F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five Snapshots One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Round 13 - Belgium “This is a good thing, babe.” Danny didn’t believe your words as he pulled you onto his lap. “People see my uniform and immediately dislike me because we are always seen escorting you guys to the stewards. The fans blame us for your penalties.”

“I get why they want to do this, but why does it have to be you,” he grumbled.

“Maybe it’s because I’m so lovable,” you suggested as you pouted and did your best impression of puppy eyes. “Who could hate this face?”

Daniel finally rewarded you with a smile as he traced your lips with his thumb. “Fine, but if I have to watch you play show pony then there’s something I get to do first.”

You were running late thanks to Danny and your thighs were slick beneath your skirt as you marched quickly through the paddock to where the FIA’s PR team were waiting. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching you leave his room, knowing what a mess he had made under your skirt and that he was keeping your panties hostage. He promised he would return them after you had finished recording the interviews with McLaren and Alpine.

“Why didn’t you jump over it?” Lando greeted as he spotted you eye up the metal barrier before deciding to walk the long way around.

“I’m in a skirt, genius.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” he shot back before giving you a friendly side hug. “I’m surprised he let you do this.”

You laughed but realised what a mistake it was as you clenched your legs together, more of his cum leaking from your pussy. “It wasn’t without conditions. Before you ask, just don’t.”

Lando wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Ew. Wasn’t going to.”

“Sure…” You rolled your eyes and was grateful that Oscar arrived so the Instagram Live feature could begin.

“What would you rather…eat brussel sprouts for the rest of your life or live in Logan’s childhood bedroom?”

“Who came up with these questions? Did your fans really send these in or are you making this up?” you asked as you pressed the back of your hand to your forehead while you considered the choices of the latest take. “Can I at least call him and ask about it? Because I’m not a fan of brussel sprouts but if he had the American flag hanging on his wall above his bed then it’s a hard pass.”

“What about my room?” Oscar offered instead.

Lando laughed behind his hand. “You had pictures of Danny on your wall so she would obviously choose that.”

Though it was no secret among the drivers that you were dating Daniel, it wasn’t something that was publicised and you narrowed your eyes at Lando before Oscar drew the attention to himself.

“Mate, what are you talking about?” Oscar joked, “I still do.”

Lando lost it and crumpled over laughing, almost taking you down with him as he clung to your arm. “Next question, next question,” he begged between the belly laughs that triggered your own and you pressed your thighs together as tight as possible.

Just when you thought you had recovered Oscar picked up the next card and he pressed his lips together as he tried to compose himself. “I think Doohan sent this one in...Cats or dogs?”

One look from Lando was all it took.

“Don’t you say it,” you warned as his lips twitched. “Don’t you dare. There are children watching.”

Lando’s eye flickered to the side where Esteban and Pierre were laughing as they waited for their turn before he looked at the camera. “Doggy…” It was almost impossible to tell what he said as it turned to a high-keening screech of a laugh before he fell onto Oscar for support.

“Oh my god, I don’t know this guy, never met him before in my life,” you rambled as you sidled out of the camera’s view before losing it yourself. “Fucking hell, Lando!”

The producer looked at you and shook his head. “Still live, Y/N.”

“Ahhh, my bad. Just give me a minute,” you wheezed as you walked off and found a bathroom. You wanted to curse Daniel for the ‘gift’ he had given you as you washed away the streaks of cum that ran down your thighs but you loved when he owned you. It wouldn’t have taken much longer for it to reach below your skirt and then the entire world would have seen the evidence.

If you thought the interview with McLaren took a turn, it was nothing compared to Alpine. The two Frenchmen were completely unhinged compared to the more innocent McLaren drivers and they knew exactly what they were doing with their turn of phrase.

“What do you enjoy more, overtaking on a straight or a corner?” you asked as you bent the question card nervously.

“Easy. Straight,” Esteban answered first. “You get to go faster and push harder.”

“Ah, yeah,” Pierre agreed with a nod. “I know what you mean. But I like a tight corner because you have to control yourself on the entry or you could hurt yourself but once you’re in you can push the limits too.” He demonstrated the ‘corner’ overtake with his fingers, curling two digits suggestively and winked at the camera.

“Is there a priest in the paddock?” you asked as you hid behind the cue card. “These two boys need God.”

You saw the smirk on Pierre’s face before he opened his mouth and you jumped in front of him, clamping a hand over his lips. “That was not an invitation to make a joke about missionary or praying on your knees or whatever other dirty thought crossed your mind. Got it?”

“Got it,” he laughed as your hand fell away and he turned you to face the camera that was still streaming. “You did it for me.”

The frustrated sound you made only caused more laughter and you tossed the remaining question cards into the air. “I think that’s enough torturing me for one day. If you need therapy after watching this like I do, feel free to send the bill to Alpine HQ in Enstone; care of Pierre Gasly.”

You closed your eyes as you leaned against the door to Danny’s room, taking a few deep breaths as you readied yourself to face him knowing he had watched the live feed. You didn’t expect him to suddenly open the door, and you tumbled back into his arms with a surprised squeak.

“I was on my way to find you, kitten,” he whispered as his arms enveloped you and he stepped back, taking you with him as he kicked the door closed again. He walked you to the small bathroom and laced his finger with yours, turning on the tap and lathering the soap over your palms. “You don’t know where Pierre’s mouth has been.”

You peered up into the mirror as the warm water washed away the touch of another man’s mouth on them and met his eyes watching you swallow. “I didn’t know they would ask those questions.”

His cheeks twitched before he stopped the dark smile from cresting and he rested his chin on your shoulder as his damp hands ran down your curves to the hem of your skirt. “Sex sells, kitten. Every marketing team knows that, even the FIA.”

His hands drew your skirt up and you gasped as he pushed you forward, bending you over the vanity. “I thought we had a deal…” he tutted as he felt the dry skin of your thighs that he parted.

“I had to,” you whispered breathlessly as you watched his reflection, his doubtful eyebrow lifting while he pushed his jeans down his legs. “Everyone would have seen.”

“Exactly,” he chuckled in your ear as he grabbed your knee and lifted it to the cold bench top. “Everyone would know who you belonged to.” His palm clamped over mouth to stifle the cry as he speared your cunt and your eyes fluttered shut as he filled you completely. “Who do you belong to, kitten?”

You lashed your tongue across his palm and he eased his grip, smearing your saliva over your chin as he reached for your throat instead. His fingers tightened as he waited for an answer and you pushed yourself back against him with a moan. “You.”

His deeply satisfied growl had your cunt clenching and he snapped his hips forward with a pace you couldn’t match. All you could do was plant your hands on the mirror and surrender yourself to the pleasure he gave you.

“No more interviews. No more videos,” Danny stated as he grazed his teeth over your shoulder. “If someone asks, you send them my way.”

Your head was spinning as you rode the high of your orgasm and you nodded though you couldn’t think clearly. You would have said yes to anything he asked when he drove you to that dreamlike state.

“Do you know how crazy it makes me to see you with them?” You yelped as he dug his teeth into your skin and the fog in your mind began to clear. “I want to be the only one who makes you laugh, who makes you smile. I can’t wait to have you all to myself for three weeks.”

His hips slowly rocked against you as he watched clarity return to your eyes. “What do you have planned?”

The smirk he gave you made your heart stutter and he pulled out leaving you empty. “Lots.”

His fingers trailed through your dripping folds, gathering your slick before circling your ass and you moaned as he pressed a digit in. Your forehead dropped to the cool mirror and your breath steamed up the glass as he added another finger, stretching you ready for him.

“You’ll find out in good time,” he promised before you felt his tip replace his fingers. “Relax, kitten.”

He gripped your hips and his thumbs massaged your lower back, easing the tense muscles before he pushed forward and your breath left your lungs in a low moan that he echoed. “Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight.”

He gave you a moment to adjust to his size before you grew impatient and rolled your hips, silently begging him to start fucking you. If you were in a hotel or his apartment he would have teased you until you were crying with need and loudly begging him but the driver room wasn’t soundproof enough for that. And, he had his own schedule of appointments he needed to get to before someone came looking for him.

“We’re gonna try this again, kitten.” His voice was deep and husky as he gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises. “I’m going to fill this pretty little ass before I go to my interview and if you’re a good girl I might let you have these when I get back.” He reached into his jeans halfway down his thighs and pulled out your panties, balling them into his fist as he lifted them to his nose so he could inhale your scent with a hum. “Deal?”

“Yes, fine, Danny, just please fuck me,” you begged shamelessly as you reached down your front and teased yourself. He chuckled as he felt your body tighten around him before he pushed your hand aside and circled your clit himself.

“Hold on, kitten, and keep quiet.”

You bit your lip as he roughly palmed your ass, spreading your cheeks wide so he could watch how well you took every long inch of him. He shifted behind you, oh so subtly, but the change in angle made stars dance across your vision and your jaw fell slack with a silent moan.

Your palms were slipping across the mirror with every hard rut of his hips, your hands smearing the glass with the fine layer of sweat that coated your entire body. Your legs began to shake as the pressure built in your core and his breath warmed your ear as he grunted with the tightening he felt.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he praised with a whisper. “Come all over me, let me feel you.”

You teeth clenched as your orgasm ripped through you, shattering your world into splinters of light and stars only to explode again when he reached over your hip and flicked your sensitive clit.

“Fuck, holy shit,” Danny breathed against your neck as you shuddered in his arms and saw wet streaks running down your legs to the floor. “God, you’re perfect.”

He kissed your shoulder as he eased out of your ass slowly, small whimpers filling the room as your core throbbed with aftershocks. His kisses trailed up your neck and you craned your head so you could reach his lips, tasting a hint of coffee on his tongue.

“I have to go,” he murmured against your lips but still he made no effort to leave.

“Then go,” you dared, turning in the cage his arms had made around you as you pulled your skirt back into place.

His eyes narrowed at the challenge before a smarmy smile grew and he kissed your forehead as he stepped away. “Okay.”

“You’re meant to stay,” you muttered as you crossed your arms.

His deep laugh echoed through the bathroom as he pulled his jeans up and left. “You young ones think you invented everything. I’ve been pulling the reverse psychology card since you were in preschool, kitten. I’ll see you later.”

“Whatever,�� you huffed, only making him laugh more on his way out the door. “Old man.”

“Heard that. I don’t need hearing aids yet, love.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing and he paused at the sound to send you a wink and blow a kiss before he was gone.

You still had a few minutes before you needed to make your way to HQ and as you sat down, tenderly, you noticed your panties on the coffee table. You started to reach for them but paused and looked around the room suspiciously before sitting back and shaking your head.

“Not falling for it,” you stated aloud just in case he was somehow listening. “Nice try, babe, but I’m not going to take the bait.”

The three week break did not go as planned. After the car’s poor performance in Belgium, Daniel and Max had been called to the factory for some much needed testing and upgrades. Not wanting to spend your holiday in the tiny city of Milton Keynes, Daniel had given you keys to his apartment in Monaco and one of his credit cards with the demand that you spoil yourself while he isn’t there to do it for you.

You were surprised to see his name pop up on your phone in the middle of the day but you quickly answered it with a smile. “Hey, aren’t you busy?”

“Just taking a little break.” He sounded tired and you wished he had video called so you could see his face. “What are you up to?”

“I’m going to Rejuvenate, remember? Getting a massage, maybe a facial too.”

“I could give you one of those, the facial not the massage. Though I could probably manage that too.”

“You have the hands for it, but I think they would wander too much to actually massage me properly.” The spa was just up ahead and you slowed your walk so you could keep talking a minute more. “I miss you.”

“Yeah? Me too, kitten,” he chuckled softly and the sound was so intimate you could have sworn he was right next to you. “I’ll see you soon.”

The soothing scent of lavender and jasmine welcomed you as you stepped inside the boutique spa. You immediately began to relax as you undressed and lay down on the massage table, draping a towel over your lower half while you waited for the masseuse to arrive. The sounds of gentle ocean waves and whales singing started to fill the room and you shifted on the table as you settled into a comfortable position and your vision narrowed to the small circle your face rested in.

The door creaked open and you heard the tinkle of glass jars before the cork on one was unstopped with a pop.

“Special Offer: Afternoon Delight with a happy ending?”

You jumped at the deep voice and nearly fell off the table as you turned to see Danny oiling his hands up in the candlelight. “What are you doing here?”

He looked exactly as you had imagined after the phone call, handsome, as always, but exhaustion left dark smudges beneath his eyes that wrinkled with the smile he gave you. He crossed the narrow space as you reached for him, your lips reuniting with desperate need after almost a week apart and he pulled away breathless.

“I’m taking a little break, heading back in the morning. But I needed one night with my kitten.” His slick hands warmed your back as he held you close. “I’m not going to let this oil go to waste by the way, lay down.”

Danny whipped the towel away from you and hummed as he eyed your body up with the hunger of a man who had been starving for a week. The look was one reflected in your eyes as he untied his robe and let it hang open for you to see he hadn’t only been oiling his hands.

“I’m glad you found the right room,” you commented as you bit your lip and laid down on your back.

His lips twitched as he reached for the opened jar and drizzled the warm coconut oil over your chest. “This time. Don’t ask me how many rooms there are in this place.”

Your breasts bounced as you giggled and he cupped them as he worked the oil into your skin. A contented sigh fell from your parted lips as you relaxed under his ministrations and your nipples peaked at the touch. The air rushed from you with a gasp when he pinched one sharply and you felt the jolt all the way down to your core.

“So responsive,” he growled as one hand traced a line to your navel and continued further, slipping between your legs and feeling how wet you were for him. “Hmm, I wonder…”

“What?” you asked curiously as you fought the urge to squirm.

“Have you thought about piercing these? I think you’d enjoy it,” he asked as he pinched your nipple and curled his fingers deep in your cunt at the same time, your back arching off the table with a moan. “Make you even more sensitive.”

His fingers were working you to a frenzy and you couldn’t think clearly as he put the idea in your head but every time your walls started to flutter he slowed down with a teasing chuckle.

“Fuck, Danny, I need you,” you begged as you reached for his cock and stroked the hard length. “Please.”

“Have you been a good girl?” he asked as he watched your hand sliding up and down his shaft, his dick glistening with oil.

“Yes,” you whined. “I haven’t come since you left, I haven’t touched myself.”

He kissed you messily with teeth and tongue as he palmed your clit and he inhaled your cry of ecstasy as he gave you the release you needed. “Open up, kitten,” he ordered as he pulled you up to the top of the table and left your head hanging over the edge. He fisted his cock and ran the weeping tip over your lips and you flicked your tongue out to taste him. “Relax your throat, babygirl.”

You let your head fall back and his hands massaged the column of your throat as he pushed past your lips and coconut overpowered the taste of his musk on your tongue. You ran your hands over your chest, slicking them up with oil before grabbing his ass and digging your nails in to spur him on.

“That’s it, kitten, use those claws,” he urged as his glutes tensed beneath your hands with each thrust into your mouth.

Spittle ran over your lips and your eyes watered as he abused your mouth and your body responded with a throb deep in your core. Getting him off was a sure way of getting yourself off as you had found out and you prided yourself on making his knees weak.

After crossing your legs to give yourself friction you turned all your focus on pleasuring Danny, teasing him as he so often did to you with an oiled finger. A deep groan filled the room and Daniel lost his rhythm as you curled your finger and found the spot like he had taught you to.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, kitten,” he warned as his cock seemed to swell even more, making breathing impossible. Tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes and his fingers tightened around your throat as if he could touch himself before he growled through his gritted teeth and pulled out. Hot ropes of cum spurted across your lips and cheeks before he released a shuddering breath and placed a steadying hand on the table beside you.

It didn’t take him long to recover before he reached over to the service table and placed two items over your eyes. “There’s your facial, love.”

You licked your lips and hummed at the taste of him before picking the items up to see them. “You really put the ‘cum’ in cucumber.” He grinned as you took a bite of one before tossing the other at him. “Go on, high performance athlete, it's healthy for you. Cucumber has lots of vitamins, plus it's boosted with a shot of protein.”

He dodged the cum covered slice with a laugh and pulled his robe back around his body. “Sorry, I’ve already had my protein shake for the day. Does this place have showers?”

You accepted the hand he offered to help you sit up and pointed to the curtain hiding a door. “How did you manage this?”

“Turned up the charm, kitten,” he winked as he stepped into the bathroom, beckoning you to follow with an outstretched hand. “But it was the cash that won them over.”

You caught the washcloth he tossed over and wiped away his facial while he found the right temperature that you both could agree on. When your face was clean, you stepped under the cascade and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Thank you for coming. You look like you could do with a nap.”

He returned the embrace, resting his cheek on the top of your head as the water washed over his back. “I always want a nap after coming,” he joked before tipping your chin back with his finger, a sombre look on his face. “How have you been sleeping?”

“It’ll be better tonight,” was all you could say, anything more would have only made his departure in the morning even harder. “How much longer do you think testing will take?”

He sighed heavily and grabbed a sample size bottle of body wash, squirting it into his hand before lathering it up on his chest. “Another week maybe, hopefully just a few days.”

He pulled you against him and shimmied to share the suds, and lighten the mood, and you giggled as his chest hairs tickled your skin. He visibly relaxed at the sound of your laugh and you cupped his face to feel the muscles pulling into a smile.

“Ready to go home?” you asked softly.

He brushed a quick kiss over your lips and shut off the shower with a nod. “Probably should get going. Max invited us out while everyone’s in town.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“The usual suspects.” He shrugged his shoulders as he started drying himself. “Lando and Charles at least, maybe Pierre if he hasn’t gone back to Milan yet. Carlos too?”

Every time he had a get together he seemed to invite more of his fellow drivers and it was finally changing how the media portrayed him as he was photographed with them. “Max is starting to collect drivers like Pokémon. You know, like that app that came out a few years ago…gotta catch ‘em all.”

Daniel’s face pinched in pain, his brows furrowed together as his upper lip curled back with a groan. “An app? Gen Z strikes again.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyelashes bashed at him innocently but you couldn’t hold the facade as you slapped his chest with a laugh. “I’m kidding, babe, I know it was a Netflix show first.”

“You’re funny, really,” he chuckled when he saw you suppressing your smile and it finally broke through. “Get dressed before I bend you over my knee and spank you.”

The cocktails had been far stronger than you thought and you no longer felt the cold out on the back deck of Max’s yacht. You had shrugged your jacket off as heat flushed through you and let the sea breeze kiss your bare arms while Danny had gone to get you a glass of water.

“So when are we going to make another video?” Pierre asked as he stepped out onto the deck to join you in leaning against the rail overlooking the bright city lights on the skyline.

“It’s only been a week,” you said as he bumped your shoulder and you pushed him back. “How’s things going with Kika?”

A bright smile graced his lips at your friend's name, the handful of dates they had been on seeming to have been a good start. “I'm heading to Paris in a few days to see her. Hey, you should come too. She’d be happier getting you over roses.”

“Oh thanks, I’m reduced to being just a gift now, huh?”

He draped an arm over your shoulder and laughed heartily. “I can tie a little bow around you, if you want.”

“What’s the penalty for breaking a few fingers?” Daniel wondered aloud as he stood in the kitchen watching Pierre touch you.

“What did you expect?” Kelly laughed, announcing her quiet arrival into the room. “She’s pretty and surrounded by rich, good looking guys. She’s too young for you anyway.”

The water from the tap overflowed the glass and wet Daniel’s hand before he turned it off and faced Max’s girlfriend. “That’s pot calling the kettle...”

You slipped out from under Pierre’s arm and shook your head. “Sorry, buddy, there’s only one guy that gets to tie me up.”

Leaving the Frenchman chuckling, you turned and found Danny with a very full glass of water and smiled gratefully as you took it. “Everything alright?”

He waited until you had drunk a few mouthfuls before taking the glass and placing it on the table. Your lips parted in surprise as he pulled you into his arms and captured them, his tongue dancing with yours without care that you weren’t alone. He was usually so careful and controlled outside the privacy of four walls but there was some need driving his passion as his hand trailed down your back to squeeze your ass.

He chuckled as he pulled away, brushing the pad of his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips and spying the desire in your eyes to take things further. He glanced over your shoulder with a smirk before turning his attention back to you and said, “Now it is.”

—

You knew Danny wasn’t pleased that you were going to Paris with Pierre but there was only so much to do in Monaco on your own. Lando had kept you company for a day, borrowing Max’s jet ski while he was away, but then he was heading to the McLaren factory for his own testing so you had taken up Pierre’s offer.

You did have one surprise in store for Danny that you knew would make him happy when you saw him, and you couldn’t wait for the end of the week to hurry up and arrive.

“Say cheese,” Pierre said as he shoved his phone in your face after gathering it from the security scanner along with his carryon luggage.

The security guard rolled his eyes with a look that said he was over dealing with celebrities and he waved you through with a sharp, “Next!”

“Get out of my way,” you growled as you walked through the metal detector.

“Step this way, please,” the man said as he pointed to the big x-ray machine.

“But, I didn’t-” you pointed to the metal detector that hadn’t made a sound but he cut you off.

“It’s a random selection.”

“Random my ass,” you muttered under your breath as you stepped into the machine and pulled the finger at Pierre who was still videoing you. The camera shook as he tried not to laugh out loud and he gave you the thumbs up as the x-ray spun around with its scan.

“Oh, no way,” Pierre laughed and he stepped closer to the image. “You’ve got your nipples pierced!?”

“If this is live and not just a recording I am going to kill you, Gasly.” You looked at the security guard as he checked over the image. “Can I get out now?”

“Go on,” he waved you through and you swiped your bag from Pierre’s hand as you passed him.

“You ruined my surprise.”

“I’m sure he will still be surprised, when he sees the vid,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m sorry, the fans love seeing you, I thought an impromptu live might be fun.”

“Let’s just get on the plane before someone makes an anonymous call to traffic control about a dodgy Frenchman.”

“He wouldn’t.”

One look at you had him swallowing and his pace picking up. You were mostly joking, but when it came to you, well, Danny could act first without thinking about the consequences. It only took eight hours for you to realise how true that was.

“Where is he?”

A scream of terror pierced the air as your blankets were torn from your body and you scrambled towards the headboard as a silhouette stood beside your bed.

“Danny?” Your voice trembled as your eyes adjusted to the dark hotel room and you recognised his shape that matched the voice. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He grabbed your hand that clutched your chest and pinned it at your side. “Where. Is. He?”

His beard burned your cheek as he growled in your ear and you couldn’t think as his scent drove you crazy. “Who?”

“Gasly.”

“Why would Pierre be in here?” you asked, your genuine confusion giving him pause.

“Because you came here with him, to the city of love,” he spat angrily as he flicked the bedside lamp on. “All fucking day, pictures of you two have been tagged on Insta.”

“I came with him to see Kika,” you whispered.

“Your model friend?”

“Yeeeeah,” you drawled, attitude lacing your tone. “They’re dating. Pierre and Kika. In a suite down the hall.”

“I didn’t see her in any pictures with him,” he murmured as he sat back on the bed and dragged a hand down his tired face. “It looked like you and him were…the comments…”

“Things are new for them, they’re not ready to go public yet,” you said as you cupped his jaw and saw the circles beneath his eyes were darker than last week. “You’re the only man I’m interested in. Even when you are overbearing and possessive, and showing up in my room at,” you looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand, “3am.”

“There weren’t any flights or I would have been here earlier.”

He let you pull him down beside you and his arm fell into place around your waist where it belonged.

“You’re an idiot,” you said as you kissed his jawline. “But you’re my idiot.”

His chest bounced with a laugh before he turned his head to capture your lips and his hand started to drift up your camisole until you pulled back with a yelp.

“I’m going to kill him,” Danny promised as he pushed you into your back and carefully pulled the top away and saw the two metal bars catch the lamp light. “I can’t believe he got to see these first.”

“He didn’t ‘see’ them, not like this,” you corrected as his fingers inched closer to the temptation. “This is all for you, babe, only you.”

“Ugh, I want to play with them,” he grumbled as he nipped at the supple skin of your breasts, careful not to hurt the healing piercings. “When can I touch them?”

“Not soon enough,” you said, equally frustrated with the wait as your nipples began to harden and tingles spread around the metal as they stiffened to peaks. “You wouldn’t believe how good they feel.”

“Don’t tease me, kitten, I’m too on edge. It was a long drive fuelled with anger and energy drink.” His voice was husky in your ear and it woke your body, your leg curling over his hip to pull him closer. “I don’t know how rough I’ll be.”

“It’s been a week, Danny. I don’t care what you do to me, just don’t make me wait.”

You rolled your hips against him and felt his jeans straining to contain him. You saw the moment he lost control, his pupils blowing out with desire and he gave into the primal need to own you. He needed the reassurance that you belonged to him and you just needed to feel him.

“Please, fuck me. I’m yours, Danny, please…”

“Fuck,” he moaned as he ground his jeans against the thin fabric of your panties. “You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure the whole world knows it from now on.”

Click here for part three.

Tagging: @mloyer @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @galenna @idkmanthisiskindacool @starwarssavy23

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 smut #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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6 to 1 | lando norris (part 10)

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 10 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

lando's up for your challenge and you seem to forget he's a lot smarter than people give him credit for

word count: 6.5k tags/warnings: this is not soft this is pure smut with some plot, go read part 9 if you missed it bc it was literally published 2 hours ago

It finally clicked for Lando what you meant when you turned around.

This may have been his game but there were no rules as to what you could or couldn’t do in his attempts to move further up your list. All he could do was watch as Carlos pulled you away from the bar, back to a booth with a table this time.

You waited until you were seated and had taken a sip of your drink before bringing up what was mentioned before.

“Can you explain something to me?” You asked, resting your elbow on the table to put your chin in your hand. Your top was low cut and Carlos wasn’t at all subtle when his gaze momentarily dropped.

“I can try,” his hand found your thigh again, but this time it was under the table. He slowly dragged his fingers up and down your bare skin and you had to remind yourself that you quite literally asked for this.

Sure, you and Carlos were naturally a little flirty on any given day, but he was taking it a step further now that he had permission to.

“What did you mean earlier?” You glanced down at your drink. “About leaving the drivers speechless?”

A faint breath of laughter passed through his lips. He scratched his jaw as he spoke, “Does that really need explaining? Isn’t your ego already big enough?”

Unimpressed with his response, your expression fell flat. Carlos laughed again, giving your leg a squeeze.

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t say you haven’t noticed half of the drivers paying you a little extra attention. I mean, what does Pierre call you?”

“Little Leclerc?” You guessed.

“No, that’s Lando’s nickname for you,” Carlos peered across the club towards where Lando still stood by the bar. He must have been watching because Carlos dipped his head closer to yours before continuing on. You admired the commitment to the bit. “Pierre calls you the Paddock Princess. Pretty sure Yuki calls you bijin-san-”

“Bijin-san?” You repeated, this being the first you heard of it. “What does that mean?”

“Miss. Beautiful, I think, in Japanese. I might be wrong, but it’s something along those lines,” Carlos explained. “Danny loved having you around. Even Max loses his train of thought when you walk by and he's been with Kelly for years. Regardless, Y/N, you have a presence in the paddock. You’re not just a sight for sore eyes, you’re a breath of fresh air, especially during a busy weekend. We love having you at the races, we all love you and-” he paused, you caught the way his jaw tightened. The hold he had on your leg seemed to loosen. “...honestly, there was this sort of unspoken rule that you were off limits because of Charles but it seems like Lando’s the only one brave enough to break that rule.”

This was genuinely all news to you. Every time you attended a race, your attention was on Charles. It was only recently that you started looking at Lando a little differently, but you had no idea that other drivers turned their heads when you walked down the paddock.

Carlos included.

There were never any romantic feelings between you and Carlos, or so you thought. But the way he was looking at you now told you otherwise. He was thinking about how he missed his chance, how you were with Lando now.

You had been oblivious to all of it.

And you kissed him.

Which was incredibly disrespectful now that you thought about it. If you had known Carlos might have had feelings for you, you wouldn’t have crossed that line. You didn’t think about the damage it might have caused, like a potential strain in your relationship now that you were with Lando.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, but Carlos’ smile was an assurance that you didn’t need to apologise for anything.

“Don’t be,” he said. “Lando makes you happy, that’s all any of us want for you.”

“No, but I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you admitted. The guilt was sitting in the pit of your stomach as you glanced at his hand on you before looking up again. “And I shouldn’t have asked for your help tonight, I’m sorry, Carlos. This was a bad idea. I don’t- I don’t want to lead you on.”

You shuffled away from him but Carlos was quick to grab your hand to stop you from leaving the booth.

“You’re not leading me on,” Carlos stated firmly. He placed his hand under your chin to ensure your eyes were on him. The calluses on his fingers were rough but his touch itself was soft. “I know you’re with Lando, we all know at this point, but we’re still friends, Y/N. And as your friend, I don’t mind helping you make Lando squirm a little bit.”

“Are you sure?” You sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“The only one who’s uncomfortable right now is Lando.”

You finally looked across the club as Carlos dropped his hand to your leg once more. Lando was watching you intensely, eyebrows pinched together as he was clearly coming up with a plan of his own. Your gaze narrowed as you offered him a sort of half smile, one that challenged him to try and keep up.

“He is going to hate me after tonight,” Carlos laughed, reaching for his drink to take a sip.

“He knows it’s just a game,” you told Carlos. “He’s just mad it’s no longer a one-player game.”

“So what’s the plan?”

You pulled your eyes off the very distressed Brit to look at Carlos again. He was up for anything, and you didn’t want to use his potential feelings for you to your advantage, but he was the one offering.

“I need you to tell me if I cross a line,” you demanded. That had to be clear before you went any further.

“You won’t-”

“But if I do, Carlos, you have to tell me.”

With a reluctant sigh, Carlos nodded. You waited a second to see if he had anything else to add to this agreement, but he stayed quiet. When you looked down at the drinks, Carlos didn’t need any verbal instruction to finish what was left. You both grabbed hold of your glasses and downed the rest of your drunks.

You slammed your empty glass on the table and grabbed hold of his wrist, practically pulling him out of the booth.

“Dance with me,” you said, not giving him any other option.

You dragged Carlos to the dance floor, but even then, you doubt it would have taken much coercion even if he didn’t want to accompany you. You had just placed your arms over his shoulders when he abruptly spun you around and pulled your hips back against him.

The one drink you had wasn’t flowing through your bloodstream yet, but you didn’t need the liquid courage to let the music move you. The pulsating beat was enough for you to find a rhythm against Carlos on the crowded dance floor.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder as you dragged your hand upwards, linking it around his neck. Your fingers became tangled through his hair as his own hands explored the curves of your body.

There was something so euphoric about dancing in a club. Stranger or not, the way your body melted in perfect harmony with someone else's was intimate, it was exhilarating, it was hot. Carlos held you tight against him, really taking your ‘pretend I’m someone you want to bring home’ instructions to another level.

“He’s looking,” Carlos said, voice rough. as you sensually rubbed your backside over his jeans.

Your eyes fluttered open for a second, just enough to see Lando gripping his drink so tight you wouldn’t have been surprised if it shattered in his grasp. A cunning smirk traced your lips as you sent a wink in his direction.

And then he took off. He left the glass on the bartop. You followed him with your eyes as much as you could but Lando soon became lost in the crowd of club goers.

You panicked for a second. Did you take it too far?

Carlos sensed your sudden hesitation and he spun you back around to face him, his hand moving to cup your face. This time when his thumb traced over your lips, you knew it was no accident. He was still putting on a show, even if Lando wasn’t watching.

“Charles would kill us both if he saw us right now,” he said, his hand spreading across your back to hold you against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, you could feel each breath he took hit your face. You were both aware that your brother would go into cardiac arrest if he was an unfortunate witness to the way you two danced.

But Charles wasn’t around.

And you had no idea where Lando was either.

“I’m thinking Lando might kill us now too,” you laughed. It was easy to convince yourself this was just a game, that you were just messing with Lando, but you had no idea what was actually going through his head.

Carlos was a few inches taller than you, so he was able to spot Lando easily as he worked his way through the crowd. When you noticed his face twist in confusion you turned around as well and stood on your toes, trying to find him but having no luck.

He slid his hand around your waist very protectively, as you used him for balance, trying to crane your neck even more. You both had stopped dancing at this point, now just trying to make sense of what Lando was doing.

“What is he…” Carlos spoke your thoughts when you finally found Lando, making his way towards the DJ booth. The security guard happily let him past the ropes and both you and Carlos watched as Lando walked up the steps and introduced himself to the DJ. He then leaned in to speak, only to glance your way immediately after.

“This can’t be good,” you averted your attention to Carlos now.

Lando noticed you staring and he raised his hand, waving at you with the most taunting smirk you’d ever seen in your life.

It was a few seconds later when Tove Lo’s voice faded out, but no new song followed. A chorus of complaints was heard as people turned to the booth but the DJ was quick to grab the mic and bring it to his lips.

“We’ve got a few guests here tonight!” The DJ shouted and the crowd cheered when those who were not drunk enough yet realised that the F1 driver himself was standing up on the booth. “Lando Norris is no stranger to the DJ table but everyone, please give it up for Carlos Sainz!”

And then the spotlight was on you.

Well, more specifically, Carlos, but there was no space between your bodies and you were suddenly blinded by the bright pink light shining down from above. Carlos’ grip on you tightened, just for your safety, but this was not a crowd that would bombard them for pictures or autographs. These were Monte Carlo locals for the most part, and probably used to running into a driver every now and again.

That didn’t mean you weren’t getting unwanted attention.

Lando grabbed the mic from the DJ and his voice rang through all of the speakers, “Who wants to hear the Smooth Operators’ DJ-ing debut?” He held his hand out in the direction of Carlos and the club went wild.

You were both suddenly being pushed towards the stairs of the booth, even though Carlos, very loudly, tried to protest and explain that he had absolutely no interest in pretending to be a DJ for the night. This was not a crowd he could say no to.

Arrogance was painted all over Lando’s face as you and Carlos finally reached the base of the stairs. He patted the DJ on the back as the security lifted the rope again. He eyed Carlos’ up challengingly as he stepped down.

“They’re calling for you, mate,” Lando told him, clearly proud of himself for coming up with this idea. “You can’t let them down.”

Carlos looked between you and Lando before ultimately shrugging his shoulders and giving in. He’d be booed out of here if he turned around and didn’t at least try to DJ. Lando knew this. Lando knew Carlos was a people pleaser, this was the only way to get him away from you.

You tried to follow Carlos up the booth, wanting to ignore Lando and this bullshit move he just pulled but Lando’s hand found your wrist and he pulled you into his chest as soon as he stepped off the stairs.

“You’re the worst, you realise that, right?” You breathed out, your chest rising against his.

You really did try to keep the smile off your face, but you had to admit, this bullshit move was actually kind of smart.

“You said I had to work for your attention,” Lando repeated your instructions back to him, lifting his hand to push a few strands of hair behind your ear. His fingers trailed down your jaw as he kept your face upwards, eyes focused on him. “But getting everyone else's attention on Carlos is a lot easier.”

“That’s cheating.”

“That’s working smarter, not harder.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to turn your head so you couldn’t see the way the corner of your lips curled upwards, but Lando’s grip on your jaw only tightened as he pulled your face to his. His lips met yours with a frantic passion, not caring who in the club might have been watching. All he cared about was making you remember who you came here with.

And who you were undoubtedly about to leave with.

You ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his scalp, tugging on the strands to get a reaction out of him. A groan emitted from the back of his throat and Lando had to remind himself that iPhones were a thing and if you didn’t stop soon, someone would catch you on camera.

“We have two options,” Lando muttered against your lips. He dropped his hand to the stair railing behind you, essentially blocking you in.

He lowered his head to your ear, pressing the softest kiss to the spot on your neck that had your knees going weak.

“We either go back to my place because it’s only a few blocks away,” Lando suggested, his fingers sliding further into your hair. The grip he had as he twisted the strands around his fingers had you inhaling a sharp breath, anticipating the second option. Even in the dark club, you could see his devious grin. “Or…we stay here and you can keep pretending you like Carlos more than me. Choice is yours.”

It was an easy decision.

All it took was one look and Lando was pulling you outside and towards one of the many waiting cars that lined the streets of Monte Carlo on Fridays and Saturdays. He opened the door for you, he always did. His chivalrous habits weren’t disappearing, even if you were both counting down the minutes until you pulled up to Lando’s flat.

You had spent maybe fifteen minutes at the nightclub. Just long enough for you to have a singular drink. You weren’t even sure if Lando finished his. It was safe to say that neither of you could blame the alcohol for the sudden wave of desperation.

When Lando climbed into the backseat of the cab next to you, it took all of his strength to not devour you right there right now. He had to settle with keeping his hand on your leg, loving how easy it was to push the hem of your skirt up with just his thumb.

You grabbed his wrist as you clenched your legs together, stopping him before he got any ideas, “This is not the plane ride 2.0.”

“Oh please,” Lando rolled his eyes as he raised his other hand to your jaw. His thumb traced over the curve of your lips, “You loved that plane ride.”

Love was not the word you would have used. You wanted to murder him and straddle him at the same time and to make matters worse, you couldn’t even do anything when you returned to your flat because he had to leave so suddenly. You had practically been waiting all week, longer even, for this moment and god help you, it was not going to start in the backseat of a cab.

That’s why Lando was patient. He had to be with you, he wanted to be. He slowly worked his way up your driver ranking list with the ulterior motive of working his way into your life. He knew you would never allow yourself to be so vulnerable with him if there weren’t any feelings involved, but there were.

On both ends. You liked him so much it hurt. And Lando had been waiting for this. Waiting for you to open your eyes and see what was right in front of you all along. You weren’t just friends, you would never go back to being just friends.

You were so much more and you didn’t care about the risks anymore. You just wanted him.

Lando hadn’t lied when he said his place was only a few blocks away, but you didn’t get a chance to ask for a tour of the layout when he opened the door for you. Lando helped you take your heels off but then a squeal passed through your teeth when he suddenly swooped up and carried you down the hall towards the bedroom.

“I thought people only did this when they got married,” you teased, smiling up at him. It was illuminating, even in the dark.

And he laughed, “Little Leclerc, are you proposing to me?”

“Considering the fact you haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend yet-” the rest of that sentence was cut off when Lando tossed you onto the bed, your back colliding with the duvet, your hair fanned out around you.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and tilted your head slightly as Lando turned on the lamp in the corner. You watched as he reached for the hem of his shirt when he turned around, pulling it off and tossing it on the floor somewhere.

When his eyes met yours, Lando had to take a second.

He wanted to bottle up this moment forever. Tuck it away and keep it safe, or possibly live in it for the rest of his life if he could.

You, on the edge of his bed, staring up at him with those bright eyes and long lashes. Your lips a light shade of pink, almost matching the blush on your cheeks. There was no way of telling if it was makeup or just you reacting to the way he was looking at you.

And you tried to keep eye contact, you really did. But he was standing in front of you shirtless and you had never been able to really appreciate just how toned he was until right now. You had to stop yourself from reaching forward and dragging your hands over the defined muscles that made up his abdomen.

Lando finally knelt on the bed, his hand going to the exposed nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the creases of your skin as he gently pushed you back down so your head hit the mattress. Your gaze darted all over his face, unsure where to look as your smile started to grow.

“What?” He asked, voice lower than usual. But he noticed your expression and he wanted to know what was on your mind.

You cupped his face lightly, your fingers twisting through the short curls on the side of his head as a soft exhale passed through your lips.

And you could have said what you were thinking. You could have told him that you were so happy it scared you. You could have said that you made the right decision, leaving the club. You could have said a lot of things that would have earned a smile in return.

But you still had a playful side, and Lando saw it as soon as your stare narrowed the slightest bit. He almost regretted asking.

“I still think you’re third on my list,” you murmured, your words followed by the cutest laugh he had ever heard. He couldn’t even bring himself to roll his eyes in response.

“You don’t mean that,” Lando decided. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against the curve of your throat. Your breath hitched in your throat when he trailed his lips upwards, “You barely lasted fifteen minutes with Carlos before I had to come save you.”

“Save me?” You repeated, but your laughter was caught off when Lando kissed the spot on your neck right below your earlobe. You shifted beneath him, legs clenched together. Lando caught the way you hummed in pleasure, just from his soft kiss alone.

You might not have needed saving but you definitely needed him.

He hovered his face over yours. There was less than an inch between you and all it took was that smirk from Lando for you to connect your lips once again. It was desperate, the way your mouths danced together, you were both craving each other.

“Lando,” you pulled back slightly.

Of course, concern took over. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, especially after your conversation that took place the morning after he picked you up from the wedding.

Before he could say anything that might steer this in any other direction, your hand roamed up his body before wrapping it around his shoulders.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him. “And I know I’m clean, I just need to throw that out there before-”

He captured your lips again, swallowing the rest of your words. He coaxes your head back down to the pillow and you revel in the way his hands grab hold of your legs, pushing the hem of your skirt further up.

You kissed him like you’d never get the chance to again as you tangled your fingers through his hair. It was easy to blame the eagerness for the way you pulled a bit too hard, but the low whimper, almost like a beg, that came out of him was sex to your ears.

“Hair pulling,” you taunt, he could feel you smirk against his lips. “You’re into that?”

“Very much so,” Lando breathed out, no shame in admitting it. He nibbled on your lower lip, tugging on it gently before reconnecting them in another breathless kiss. His hand trailed down your body until he found the hem of your constricting top. You mumbled something about just taking it off and Lando listened. Pulling back so he could rip it from your torso.

And you weren’t wearing a bra either so Lando swore under his breath as he cupped your breast. It didn’t take him long to find the daisy tattoo you kept hidden and he softly traced his fingers over it.

“Cute,” Lando whispered. It was a simple design, delicate even. Lando didn’t let himself think about how another driver had already seen it because that didn’t matter. You were with him now.

Before you could react, your breath hitched in surprise when he suddenly sat up on his heels and reached for the waistband of your skirt. He pulled it off of you with ease and just like your shirt, it became discarded somewhere on the floor.

Lando parted your legs, resting his knee between them, but before he could rid the last bit of material off your body, he dropped his face to yours again to press his lips to yours in a kiss that quite literally took the air out of your lungs. His fingers gripped the bare skin of your hip, toying with the elastic of your underwear.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Lando murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips and then slowly working his way down, leaving a trail of warm, open mouth kisses along your throat, your collarbone, between the curve of your breasts, everywhere that was causing a fire to light within you.

He pressed his lips to your naval as he slowly bent your knees and raised your hips off the bed to pull the thin fabric off.

When he dipped his head between your legs, his hot breath on your core had you automatically pulling your legs together. Lando chuckled at your reaction, loving that he hadn’t even touched you yet and he could get this type of response from you.

His fingers teased the slit of your folds that had only been growing wetter with each passing second. The sensitivity of it all made you squirm, but Lando didn’t keep his hand there for long.

A breathy wine escaped from the back of your throat when Lando pressed his lips to your thigh. His teeth left marks on your skin as he worked his way up all along the inside of your leg. You wouldn’t have complained if you woke up tomorrow to an array of purple bruises on your thigh in the imprints of his lips.

When Lando finally reaches your centre, you're flooded with a heavy wave of bliss cascading through you. He's intentionally slow as he slots his tongue against the bud of your clit, wanting to feel you squirm.

You drop your hand to his hair. Knowing that he liked it only encouraged you to pull and direct him further between your legs.

Lando’s grip on your thighs tightens as his tongue moves to your folds. You attempt to muffle your desperate pleas for him by biting the inside of your cheek so hard until you taste blood. You can feel your nerves standing on their ends from the hair on the back of your neck all the way down to your swollen clit.

Eventually it becomes too hard to stay quiet.

“God, Lando,” you’re falling apart from just his tongue alone and he knows it. He loves it. His chuckle against you sent a vibration right to your core.

His nose brushes against your clit and your hips buck against his face. Your grip on his hair tightens and Lando uses that as incitement to speed up, working his tongue in and out of you with such tenacity like he was a drowning man and was searching for the air to save him between your folds.

The moan that escapes you is angelic when Lando inserts a two of his fingers deep inside you, curling them upwards. Your legs shake involuntarily in response and Lando just had to lift his head up to see your face twist in pleasure. It’s a sight he wants permanently seared into his mind, one that he wants to see everyday. One that he wished he could have seen sooner.

He thinks you're beautiful but all you can think about is how close you are to coming undone from just his fingers and tongue.

And you didn’t want that. You wanted this to last longer. You wanted to feel every inch of him inside you before ultimately falling apart.

“Lando,” his name blends nicely with a quiet moan. “Y- you need to stop, I don’t want to cum yet.”

Yet, you say. As if you don’t have faith he could bring you to an orgasm more than once. Lando is almost offended at your train of thought and he just dives in deeper. Disregarding your plea to stop because, let's be real, you don’t actually want him to stop.

He closed his eyes and savoured the sweet taste of you. With his tongue working alongside his fingers, it doesn’t take long until he feels your muscles tighten around him. Your legs clench on either side of his head, you’re tugging on his hair so hard it has to hurt but Lando doesn’t seem to mind.

There’s a jolt to all of your senses when you cum. A vivacious rumble rolls through your body. Your legs twitch as your eyes screw shut and Lando laps up every drop of you. You’re intoxicating, is what it is and this is easily something he could get used to.

You pull him up to your face, connecting your lips with his in a lazy kiss.

“I told you to stop,” your eyes flutter open to meet his. Even after all that, the only way to describe his stare is hungry. Lando isn’t anywhere near done with you. “I didn’t want to cum yet.”

Lando laughed, “When have I ever listened to you?”

He had a point there.

He backed away from you to pull his bottoms off, adding to the mess of clothes on the floor. You propped yourself up on your elbows when he reached the waistband of his briefs. When he finally removed the constricting material, your jaw fell slack.

“Should I be offended?” Lando asked, crawling back on the bed. “You thought I’d be smaller?”

There was no right answer. You just stayed quiet, taking his jaw delicately in your hand as he positioned himself above you.

Lando nodded towards the floor, “I can just put my clothes back on if you’re disappointed then-”

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes but Lando couldn’t help but grin. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“No?” Lando, grips the underside of your leg again, pulling you further down the mattress so you couldn’t rely on the headboard for any support. “What do you want me to do, then?”

You pull his face down to yours, but refrain from kissing him. Your lips barely brush over his, “I want you to fuck me, Lando.”

He should have guessed you weren’t one to beg. You were always blunt, straightforward in all the ways that made him forget how to tease you. And if he was being honest, this was maybe the one time he didn’t want to be playful with you. He wanted to see you fall apart again, he wanted to hear his name pass through your lips combined with strangled moans.

Lando pinned you down, licking a stripe from your collarbone up to your jaw as he grips your ass tightly. He starts to nibble on your earlobe and your back arches off the bed, feeling the tip of his cock tease your folds.

“I want you,” you say again, breathlessly. Lando melts at the sound of your voice but he doesn’t let him deter him from the way your body is reacting to his touch.

You can feel yourself throbbing as Lando takes your face in his hand, his thumb tugging down your bottom lip before slowly sliding it past your teeth.

“You want me to go slow?” He asks. He doesn’t think that’s what you want, but he still has to be sure.

You swirl your tongue around the tip of his thumb as you shake your head. The cocky arrogance in his expression is unmissable as he removes his thumb and kisses you once more. You try to kiss him back but the moment he enters you, you need a second to catch your breath.

Lando really didn’t want to tease you, but he had to go slow to start off with. Your hands move to his back, already he can feel the imprint of your nails in his skin. He drops his forehead to yours, holding back a groan himself as your walls tighten around him.

And then something in his snaps. He bends your knees upwards as your fingers rake over the crevices in his back. You lift your hips up as he pulls out and thrusts into you once, and then twice and already he’s found a rhythm that’s making you see stars.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, your name falling from his lips as he drops his face to the crook of your neck. His words are caught off when he attaches his lips to your skin, as if pounding into you wasn’t enough, he wanted you to feel him everywhere.

Your shallow breaths are uneven and erratic as he continues, losing control bit by bit as he goes on. Lando knows exactly where to put his hands on your body, he knows to swallow your moans with his mouth, he knows that you clenching around him is a feeling he could drown in.

You whimper when he suddenly props himself and moves backwards, keeping his body perpendicular to your core. His grip on your hips is rough, maybe a little too rough but you’re not one to complain. You’ve seen his hands, you know the strength he carries, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you realised you were starting to grow feelings for the Formula 1 driver.

Lando finds his rhythm again, staring down at you, at the way your eyes gloss over with each deep thrust until he feels your legs tremble in his grasp. He slows, but doesn’t stop.

“You okay?” He asks, his chest heaving.

It was sweet that he cared but you didn’t want to be able to walk tomorrow. You didn’t want him to stop, not now, not when it felt this good.

“Keep going,” you urgered, adding a quiet, “Please,” at the end because you just knew Lando hearing you beg would send him into another world. He listens to you, surprisingly and you could have sworn his next rough thrust could have broken you.

And then he pulls out, despite what you were previously asking for and it leaves you pouting.

“Lando-”

“‘Wanna pace myself,” he tells you. You can see his neck glisten with sweat. “You feel so fucking good.”

You lift your body to his to wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him back down. The kiss you share is furious and driven by lust and desire and he really did want to take his time, but you’re impossible to resist. With the way your body melts against his, the way your mouths move in sync, it's natural, it's euphoric.

You pulled back, swallowing as your eyes met his, “Either fuck me or I’m going back to that club-”

Lando didn’t let you finish whatever bullshit line you were going to say. You didn’t mean it, you just needed to light fire under him. The last thing you wanted was for him to pace himself, to hold back, and he didn’t.

He rams his cock into you again before you could take back your words, fucking you much harder now than before.

Your strangled moans curl out of your throat as the feeling of him deep inside you has you squeezing your eyes shut. Your body falls limp against the mattress as you attempt to hold yourself against him. One of his arms rests on the pillow next to your head and his fingers twist through your hair.

The gesture would have been sweet if he wasn’t pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. Instead, Lando uses the grip on your hair to bring your attention back to him. Your eyes flutter open and you get lost in this moment.

You can feel how tense his muscles are from holding back and you realise he doesn’t want to cum until you do.

But the way his cock stretches you out has you giving in underneath him. He touches the deepest parts of you like he belongs there, like he was meant to be there. His thumb traces along your jaw and his gentle touch contrasting against his hips slapping against yours leaves you whimpering. He nearly loses it himself at the sound you just made.

“Lando I’m so close,” you whispered. Thank God.

He tries to smile, it gets lost against your mouth as he kisses you. “I want you to cum for me,” he mutters against your lips.

Your orgasm hits you hard. You were a fucking idiot for thinking he couldn’t make you cum again because your body is shaking and he feels all of it. He feels your walls clench around him as you grip his hair and call out his name through a string of desperate breaths and expletives and it makes him come undone with you.

Lando’s buried himself deep inside of you. Something between a grunt and a moan escapes his lips as his cock twitches against your walls and it makes you want to stay in this moment forever. Your limbs are tangled together, your bodies are sticking with sweat and your breaths are in sync, but if you thought about it, the two of you had been in sync this whole time.

A minute passes, maybe two, where you don’t say anything. You don’t need to say anything.

Lando kissed your cheek and then your other cheek and when your nose scrunched up he kissed your forehead. You shifted uncomfortably when he slid out of you, but it was when you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for his hand as he climbed out of bed did it hit you that there was no going back now.

That was the most vulnerable, most intimate you could have been with someone, someone that you didn’t want to be vulnerable with. You should have felt sick, you should have been panicking about what was to follow but instead you just wanted him back in bed with you. You wanted to stay in this bubble you had created.

You knew you couldn’t, though. When he came back, briefs now on and an oversized shirt in his hands for you, you knew that this moment was too good to last.

But you didn’t let yourself think about it. About the rest of the world, the people in your lives, the media. Lando crawled back into bed next to you once you put his shirt on and you faced each other. Your hand rested along his cheek and he turned slightly to kiss the inside of your palm.

“I had a no dating drivers rule,” you whispered. Lando laughed in response, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hate that you made me break it.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not,” he quickly agreed, licking his lips. “I’m also not sorry about kicking Carlos to third on your list.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no arguing with him. Not after the stunt he pulled in the club, not after finally being intimate. Lando had successfully worked his way up from sixth to second.

But there was still one more driver to go.

And it wasn’t about competition anymore, not with Charles. Lando had to approach this one from a different angle. He couldn’t compete against your brother, he knew how important family was to you.

The last thing Lando wanted was to draw a line between you and Charles and he wasn't going to do that.

He just had to win him over.

masterlist here

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duchesschameleon · 2 months

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one night, one bed - a pierre gasly fic

warnings: none, this is fluff

summary: “it’s just for one night, we can handle it.” famous last words for when two people have to share a bed.

authors note: i was sitting at my gate waiting for check in when i decided to write this. it’s unbetaed, all mistakes are my own and i hope i did the trope and pierre justice! been a minute since i wrote xreader, i hope you enjoy!

He’s the last person you want to be sharing a bed with. The last person you want to be stuck in this position with.

But here you are, standing in the doorway to the only hotel in the vicinity with a room available for the night.

And of course, there’s only one bed.

“What’s wrong?” Pierre asks when you let out a groan, your head falling back to stare at the ceiling, willing a second bed to appear when you look at the room again.

No luck, because the universe hates you.

“There’s only one bed.”

“Ah,” he says, stepping around you and into the room. “Well, this just got more interesting.”

“Interesting? That’s what you have to say, this has gotten interesting? This is a disaster!” you exclaim, shouldering past him to sit on the bed. “We’re already stuck here, instead of being in Milan like we planned because you just had to take a detour and got us lost and out on the road later than we should have been, so now we have to share a room and the only place in this town with a room available just has to only have a single bed!”

Pierre blinks his eyes, stares at you, and then moves to sit beside you.

“Please, don’t. I just, I need a little space right now,” you plead.

He stops and moves instead to a chair in the corner, much to your surprise.

And look, it’s not like you hate Pierre. Not really. He’s just, not your favorite person. But you met in the circus of the junior formulas years ago, and now you’re more or less stuck together. Begrudging friends as your shared careers and interests keeps you in close proximity to one another for most of the year, traveling the world to race. Or assist in the racing in your case.

Pierre has just always gotten under your skin, something about his cocksure attitude rubbing you the wrong way. It’s irritating, but you also can’t stop spending time with him.

Which of course, is how you found yourself agreeing to accompany him on the drive from Monza to Milan after the race. You’re questioning the decision now, after a day of impromptu sightseeing and too little sleep, but a small part of you has been enjoying it.

“You know, you will survive sleeping next to me for one night,” Pierre says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “The bed is plenty big, we will stick to our own sides and be okay.”

You look at the bed you’re sitting on, assessing it. Turning everything over in your head. It’s not like there’s a couch in the room for one of you to sleep on. Not that you could even convince Pierre to do that this late into the season. It’d be hell on his back and you know you wouldn’t be willing to take it either.

“Come on,” he pleads, leaning forward towards you, “it’s just for one night, we can handle it.”

You look around one more time, trying to see a way out of this.

There isn’t one.

You sigh and nod your head. “Alright, but just this once. And make sure you stay on your side of the bed.”

“Of course.”

Forty five minutes later, you’re finally settling into bed. It was only a little awkward, shuffling around each other to shower the long day off and get ready for bed. You shuffle under the covers on your claimed side as Pierre exits the bathroom, shirtless and toweling off his wet hair.

“Seriously? No shirt?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Stop acting like I have the plague, you’ll be fine.” He rolls his eyes, throwing the towel over the chair before sliding into bed. “It’s one night, okay? One night and then tomorrow we’ll get back on the road and back home.”

You turn on your side, facing him. “Fine. But I’m not kidding, stay on your side of the bed , Gasly.”

He looks down at you, a familiar smirk spreading across his face and eyes sparkling with mischief. “Only if you promise to do the same.”

You snort and roll your eyes at him before turning back around and getting comfortable to sleep. “Good night, Pierre.”

—

He doesn’t stay on his side of the bed.

But, neither do you.

By the time you wake up in the morning, both of you have migrated to the middle of the bed and despite falling asleep with your back to him, both of you are facing each other.

As you slowly rejoin the waking world, you realize his chest has replaced your pillow, and the two of you are inexplicably tangled together. You blink your eyes, trying to calm your heartbeat and not move a muscle.

You take stock of the situation, of your position wrapped around him. It’s not…the worst thing in the world you find. His arms are comfortable, familiar around you after years of casually hugging and keeping you close in the paddock or wherever. Even his chest isn’t the worst place you’ve laid your head, warm and soft beneath your cheek.

Your heart pounds in your chest, face flaming as you realize you like being cocooned in Pierre Gasly’s arms. The one person you swore you wouldn’t fall in love with, and yet here you are thinking it would be nice to wake up like this more often.

“So, seems like we both broke our promises.” Pierre’s voice is rough with sleep, gravelly and low and you file away how nice it sounds for another time.

“Mhmm,” you hum, stretching as much as you can in your current position. “I guess we did.”

“And you aren’t going to chop my balls off?”

It startles a laugh out of you and you shake your head. “No, I won’t,” you finally manage to say. “I guess sharing a bed with you isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“Not the worst thing in the world?” Pierre squaks. “You slept solidly for longer than I know you have in weeks. Since summer break maybe!”

“How do you know that?”

“Because, I know you,” Pierre admits, looking down at you fondly. “I can see when your smile is pinched, eyes sleepier than normal. When your temper runs shorter than normal, even with Max. I know you.”

You blink at him, completely taken aback by the confession. His cheeks are pink, eyes darting around the room, trying to look anywhere but at you.

“You noticed all of that?”

“I notice you.” He waits a beat before placing a hand on your chin, tilting it up towards him, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I notice you, because I like you. A lot.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can manage to say, brain not fully firing on all cylinders to understand what he’s saying.

“Oh? I tell you I’ve liked you for years and all you can say is oh?”

“Hey! I just woke up!”

“In my arms!”

“Yeah, and I was just processing how much I liked it when you dropped this on me!”

“So you like waking up in my arms?”

You bit your lip and try to duck your head but he puts a hand on your cheek to keep your gaze on him. He tips his head, silently asking the question again.

“Yes, I liked waking up in your arms, Pierre.”

“Good, you should get used to it,” he says before ducking his head down to capture your lips in a kiss. Its slow and soft, the promise of heat building in his urgency to get even closer to you.

You pull back, breaking the kiss and frown a little at him. “So was this whole thing orchestrated so you could wake up with me in your arms?”

Pierre throws his head back in a laugh and pulls you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “No, but I’m glad you think I’m smart enough to pull that off.”

#my writing #fic stuff #f1 fic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #enjoy???

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wackapedia · 8 months

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The Farm Opens At Six

Pierre Chavanges x reader (Swann Arlaud in Petit Paysan!🐄) Coming home from Paris to your little town, you encounter your childhood friend and discover something that's always been there before. Word count: 3,216 (whoa?!) Warnings: Canon-typical violence, spoilers for the movie

The blue lights of the bowling complex make you feel even more dizzy after a couple of drinks. The Cow Prince Pierre Chavanges all of a sudden invited the boys (and yourself, by extension) to hang out, just like you guys used to hang out in high school. The oddest thing about this was that it was Pierre himself who initiated it.

Several rounds of bowling and even more rounds of drinks later, Pierre and JD have a heated argument in front of the alley. You're not sure who's angry about what, but Pierre walks out of the bowling complex after rolling his final ball.

He's been out of himself lately; the former gentle-hearted man has turned into the most anxiety-loaded, stressed-out dairy farmer in all of France. You follow his quick strides and knock on the passenger window as he pulls his truck out of the parking lot

"Hey, can I get a ride?"

"Ask Fabrice." He frowns before changing gears, keeping his eyes straight.

"No, he's drunk." You get in the passenger seat, not waiting for an answer.

"Your house is far out of my way." He sighs.

"That's fine; I can walk from your house." You try to get comfortable on the seat. Vincent doesn't answer. The truck is now on the road, driving steadily back to his family farm.

"Or I can stay over-" You begin, but he cuts you off.

"No."

A good distance from town, you continue to observe Pierre. He has dark bags under his eyes and a crease on his forehead. He's had a stick up his ass since this week, and he hasn't told you or anyone anything. He's driving flat out through the dark road, and you're worried he's going too fast, especially because he had a couple of drinks.

"I know there's something going on, Pierre. You can tell me. I can help." You ask with a gentle tone this time.

"No." He shuts you down.

"Is it me? Are you mad at me?" You attempt to make him spit out the truth. Pierre chuckles. "Did Paris turn you into a narcissist?" He asks. It stung, but you ignored it to get to the bottom of his sour mood. "Well, is it the farm?"

You just don't give up. Pierre grunts because he's annoyed that you're snooping into his business. He wishes you'd go back to your big city and forget about him like you did when you left after high school. He angrily scratches at the back of his neck, not noticing the skin there is bleeding. He snaps out of his trance when you yell out his name. He feels your hand grab the cold skin of his arm, pulling his hand away from his neck. Pierre immediately steps on the brake, and the car halts a few paces from his house.

He looks at you and sees the fear in your eyes. He immediately feels sorry for putting you through all that. Pierre tries to run his hand through his hair, but your hand stops him from moving.

"Don't scratch it; it's bleeding!" You hold his arm tighter, afraid he might hurt himself again. "Is it your health? Is that what's bothering you? Are you sick?" You ask, fearing for his answer.

"I'm alright. Please let me go." He sighs and gently pries your hand off his arm. He's no longer angry. All that's left now is sadness and distress. He avoids your gaze, knowing you're about to cry about him.

You slowly let go of him. You're scared for your special friend. He was always the quiet one in school, standing on the sidelines and joining in on the laughter when something was funny. He was that lanky kid who knew a lot but never really overachieved anything. He was the forgettable type. All the other batchmates from school don't remember him well, but you do. You came back to your little town to see how the youngest Chavanges kid is faring, and you've heard from the baker's daughter that Pierre is doing okay.

He still doesn't say anything, and now you feel like you've crossed the line. You sling your bag on your shoulder before moving to open the car door. The lights on the porch of his house illuminate the truck's interior when you notice something. You look to your feet, and then to Pierre's, and then you laugh.

"What's wrong with you?" Pierre sounds exhausted. You kick your feet up on the dashboard to show him what's funny.

You were still wearing the bowling shoes, and so was Pierre. He regarded you as if you had the worst case of insanity possible before giving up and chuckling to himself as well.

You're sure you weren't laughing about the shoes anymore, but something was funny because Pierre was laughing too, and oh, his laugh. Was it the porch light, or did the world suddenly seem a bit brighter? Pierre looks at you and pulls out a cocktail umbrella from your ponytail. You both laugh again, and it feels like you were both fifteen all over again.

A few minutes pass as you wind down, still chuckling and giggling. He leans his head on the steering wheel, and he keeps his eyes on you. Both your faces were flushed with the drinks, the laughter, and maybe something else.

At least he's smiling now, you note to yourself.

"Will you please tell me what's bothering you, Pierre?" You gently ask, slowly moving your hand to his.

Pierre's smile fades. He's reminded of the dead cow stored in the milking shed. The sadness in his eyes returns, and you don't miss the shift in his mood. The crease on his forehead comes back, but in his eyes, there's only confusion. The same look he used to have back in high school when the lessons became too difficult. He exits the truck, his movements rushed but careful. He then enters the house, leaving the door open. An invitation.

This was progress, you tell yourself. You get out of the truck and land on the rented bowling shoes, not entirely missing your Dior sandals. As you enter the house, you are filled with a sense of nostalgia for your younger days when you would visit the Chavanges house during the summers or after school. Pierre comes out, dressed in work overalls and holding two pairs of boots.

-------------

You stand next to him inside the milking shed after swapping the bowling shoes with the work boots he left for you. He stares at the dead cow, rigor mortis kicking in. On it's head was a gaping hole. You are left to piece these facts together when Pierre begins roping the cow's feet, dragging it out, and tying it to the tractor.

He comes back a while later to clean the shed. This time, he lets you help with scrubbing the floors and disinfecting the railings. He chuckles to himself when you clumsily knock over a bucket.

"Do you remember when we were eight, you said you wanted to be a dairy farmer's wife?" He asks while draining the blood from the floor.

"Um, yes..." You wonder where this conversation is going, ignoring the splashes of blood and soapy water on your Balmain shirt and jeans.

"That's unlikely for you now, is it?" Pierre is smiling. The whole situation is confusing you.

Your favorite dairy farmer finishes up by spraying disinfectant in the shed. You stand outside just as the sun comes up, waiting for him to finish.

"You can't go home looking like that." Pierre comes out of the barn, carrying a calf in his arms.

"Oh, look at that! He's so cute!" You ignore what he said and begin petting the calf as Pierre walks by to the house, still carrying the calf. Weird, but okay.

"What's going on? Why are you bringing him into the bathroom?"

"He needs a shower." Pierre answers plainly, as if it explains anything that has happened in the past 24 hours.

He still hasn't kicked you out of the house, which was a good sign. You observe him gently bathing the calf. Pierre lets you reassure the distressed animal as it attempts to leap out of the tub. The calf seems to favor you when you pet him and let him sit in the tub while Pierre rinses the soap out of its fur.

"So, to answer your question, yes, I am still qualified to be a dairy farmer's wife." You chuckle while running the towel down the calf's body.

"Not in those clothes, missy. You smell like a whole manure pit. No farmer would want you." He smiles teasingly as he takes off his work suit. You spot the wound on his neck. There are also red stains on the back of his shirt where patches of the wounds bleed through. The teasing mood doesn't last.

"Your turn in the tub. Let me put antiseptic on that." You sternly tell him as you point at the wound on the side of his neck. Pierre wanted to protest, but he was exhausted, and the look in your eyes made it seem like you would not take no for an answer.

------

You return to the bathroom as soon as Pierre calls you in. He sits inside the tub, his bare back facing you.

"I think you just want to see me naked." He mumbles, trying to make jokes to distract him from the sting of the antiseptic that you were pouring.

"I'm building up my farmer's wife qualifications." You play along as you pause, letting the pain abate for a bit. After a few seconds, you pour over the last patch on his shoulder. He grunts at the pain.

"Also, Pierre? Don’t flatter yourself. It's not that impressive." You say it jokingly as your gaze points to between his legs. He gets mildly offended and shoots off playful insults. Pierre's face flushes in embarrassment and annoyance, but at least not in pain.

He lets you take a shower and lends you some fresh clothes after he finishes. You catch him on his laptop when you walk out of the room, wrapping a towel around your hair. Biniou, the calf, lays comfortably on the sofa. Pierre doesn't move away when you sit next to him. You were hoping he'd watch football or some TV show, but he's watching a news report. His attention is laser-focused. His hands fiddle with the collar of his shirt, trying to stop himself from making the wounds worse.

"A disease?" You ask, trying to follow through with the report while taking his hand away from his shoulder.

Pierre hits pause and sits up to face you. Your hand remains in his, like its the most natural thing in the world. He begins explaining to you the whole cow disease debacle. His eyes hold your gaze as he passionately explains what he had thought. You tried your best to follow through with what he was explaining because surely you were getting lost in his eyes.

"Do you understand? I'm trying to save the herd." Pierre finishes. Both your hands are in his much larger ones now. He looks down and takes in your soft hands, contrasting his rough and calloused ones.

"Pierre... I don't think..." You don't think this is salvageable. He thinks so too, but he's got to try. He nods, fully understanding what you mean.

“B-but what about you? Those... on your back?" You stutter, fearing his answer.

"I'll be okay." He smiles slightly. Somehow, the warmth of his hands bring comfort to you.

---------------------

"You skipped breakfast..." You appear in front of Pierre as he works on the pulsator of his milking machine. The usual crease on his forehead is there again. You refer to this as Pierre's work-mode face. He lightens up a little when he looks up and sees the plate of bread, eggs, cheese, and meat you brought for him.

"Oh, you can just put it inside. My hands are still greasy." He shows you his hands.

You shrug and lift a forkful of scrambled eggs to him. He stares at it, feeling hesitant.

"Come on! Do you want me to make train noises? Choo choo!" You laugh. He obliges you with a bite. His face flushes with playfulness and laughter.

"I'm not a child!" He chews his breakfast.

"I know. But someone has to look after the farmer while he's looking after his cows."

Pierre's face flushes, overwhelmed by the feeling of love-

"Oh! Bonjour, Pascale!" Your first impulse interrupts you as you watch a silver Opel pull up. You immediately regret waving at her because Pierre's sister is now eyeing you suspiciously. You? Alone with Pierre at this time of the morning? Wearing clothes that are obviously not yours?

In your defense, you were worried for Pierre. Although his back was beginning to feel a little better, he needed your help putting cream on his back before bed for the last few nights. You also helped him make healthy meals while his parents were away. He lets you sleep on the couch with Biniou, which was rather comfy. Pierre stacked you with soft pillows and blankets to make sure you're warm and comfortable.

Pascale walks into the tool shed and pulls Pierre away as they have a serious conversation. You return to the house and hang out with Biniou for a bit, waiting for Pierre to come back.

-------------------

After Pascale leaves, Pierre is back in his dour mood. You hoped he'd be chatty today. He had a great sense of humor, and his voice always made you feel at home.

Huh, you never expected to feel at home with Pierre. Over the past couple of days since bowling night, you hadn't returned to your family home. No one cared to look for you, which was good because you were enjoying your time with Pierre, reliving your childhood together.

"Can I come in?" You knock at his bedroom door. Every night, you help him put cream on the healing wounds on his back. Most of the time, they sting, but you make sure to go hard on the teasing just to distract him.

Pierre doesn't seem to be in a teasing mood when he opens the door. His shirtless form sits on the edge of the bed and hands you the cylinder of cream.

He doesn't react when you make contact with his warm skin. You are grateful that it doesn't bother him anymore and the wounds are beginning to scab.

"Pierre? You okay?" You wanted to ask what Pascale had told him. He sighs.

"It's over." He's given up.

You don't know what to say. The farm is his life, and now that he's forced to give up his life's work, you're afraid it might take a toll on him.

"Will you stay with me?" He asks, taking your hand after placing the cylinder on his bedside.

And, of course, you stay.

His bed was a lot cozier than the couch. A lot warmer too, with him next to you.

He falls asleep first, his head turned in your direction. You see him as a child again—the boy who has never cared about making it big. He was always so perfectly content with his life in the countryside.

"I'm certain that you're going places." Your teacher once told you back in grade school. She was right; you made it in Paris and maybe beyond, but at that moment, you confidently told her you'd rather be a farmer's wife while eyeing Pierre next to you. The entire class laughed. Pierre felt embarrassed. The teacher took it as a joke, but it was what your heart longs for and where your heart belongs. To be with Pierre.

In the morning, Pierre wakes up, mildly startled to see you asleep so close to him. Your head rests on the same pillow as his, and he notices his arm slung around your waist. It feels like the most normal of things. The natural order of your relationship. It has been weeks since he slept this well. Pierre observes your face, which is so gentle and peaceful. He wonders if you're dreaming, and if you are, is he there in your dreams?

Then, as if your minds are one, he sees your eyes shift under your eyelids. Unconsciously (or not), you snuggle closer to Pierre. His heart melts. Then, your eyes open to see his face so close to yours.

A moment passes, and you don't know how long. You lose yourself in his eyes.

"Good morning," he whispers, making sure to keep the peace in the early hours.

You smile. "What time is it?"

"A bit over eight..." He glances at the wristwatch he wears, even when he sleeps.

"Aren't you supposed to check on the cows?" You wonder. He's normally up at six, sometimes before sunrise.

"No." He answers, and his arm tightens around your waist. You presume there was something about the conversation he and Pascale had yesterday. You let Pierre enjoy this calm morning, which you know is a very rare thing for him.

Little did you know that this would become a regular thing.

Gravel crunches outside as cars pull up at ferme Chavenges. Police cars. They have come to put down the whole herd of "infected" cows, leaving Pierre with nothing.

"Hey, stop, wait!" You try to stop the cops, but even Pascale couldn't do anything. At least they let Pierre milk the cows one last time. He takes you back to the house. Someone knocks a while later and takes the calf too.

You were too distraught to notice the time. The sun had set. You were still on the couch, with Pierre holding you. You felt incredibly sad about the whole situation.

That night, Pierre takes you to his bedroom. Just like last night, he lays you gently on what is now your side of the bed.

"Maybe you should head back to your folks tomorrow. You're headed back to Paris on Saturday, yes?" He asks, caressing your hair gently.

You nod.

"Okay. Get some sleep." Pierre kisses the top of your head and turns the lights off.

On your last morning at the farm, you wake up before Pierre. It was still a bit dark outside. You hoped it was raining so it could wash the stench away and save Pierre the effort of cleaning up.

Oh, Pierre.

You look down on him, sleeping next to you. His gentle lips are parted as he snores lightly. It makes you chuckle. You can't leave. Not now, not ever.

"Pierre?"

He snores.

"Pierre? I need to tell you something."

"Huh? What?" He says, keeping his eyes closed.

"Can I stay?"

"What?" He opens one eye.

"I think I want to start my internship here."

Pierre opens both eyes now. He is very confused. "Are you sleep-talking?"

"I said I wanted to be a farmer's wife. I'm ready to start training today, if you'll have me."

It takes a moment for Pierre to understand. He chuckles and then pulls you back to bed, snuggled close to him. He brings up the covers and wraps his arms around you.

"The farm opens at six."

#swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #pierre chavanges #pierre chavanges x reader #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi

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imaginaryf1shots · 1 year

Text

My Girls (V) | Max Verstappen

Words count: 2K

Driver!oc X Max Verstappen

Platonic!Driver!oc X the grid

Summery: Cecilia Hansson daughter of a Swedish billionaire, a race car driver, with a dream of making it big in Formula 1. However she has a few secrets that may hurt her as women are disliked in the sport.

Series Warnings: google translated french, dutch, cursing, child abandment, absent father, drinking, car accidents, Jos Verstappen, misogyny, Christian horner (tell me if i missed anything)

Couldn't sleep so here we go...

This is a secondary blog so I won't be able to respond but I'm adding you all.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Previous || Next

Nosy friends and lunch

“What?” Cecilia answered the call request coming from discord, her friends have been spamming her with texts and facetime and she hasn’t accepted any calls or replied to any texts, thank you Charles Leclerc for being a snitch.

“Finally!” Lando was the first to speak, Cecilia didn’t even look at the phone, she continued getting ready, it’s still lockdown she wasn’t leaving to meet Max for once… he was coming over for the first time, they’ve been meeting regularly(at least three times a week) for the last couple of months. At times she’d go after Nathalie fell asleep, she hadn’t taken Nattie with her to Max’s since that day, but she had been talking to him on the phone, like she does with Charles and her other uncles. It was cute how her daughter would talk with Charles in almost all French and with Max in almost all English. Her daughter is growing up like her and her brother, but that’s besides the point.

“What do you guys need? I’m busy.”

“We can see, so who is coming over?” Hearing Pierre’s voice made her glance at the phone to see who was actually in the call, of course her friends from karting plus Lando.

“Oh my god! You all are so nosy, how did you find out anyway?” She asked knowing that she hasn’t said anything, not even to Charles.

“I may have talked to your mum.” Charles confessed with a proud smile.

“You should be scared Charlotte! That’s creepy behaviour!” Cecilia shouted through the phone knowing that his girlfriend is sitting next to him, she heard her laugh. “Why did I give you my mum’s number again.”

“Don’t try to change the subject Cecilia, when were you going to tell us?” Alex asked, he looked comfy, sitting back on his sofa with a smoothie or juice or something sipping from a straw. In fact they all looked like they were sitting for a gossip session.

“Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell.”

“Why are you putting makeup on then?” Pierre asked, itching for new gossip.

“It’s just the basic stuff.” Cecilia said, shrugging still continuing with her makeup.

“What did I miss?” George asked, joining the call, Cecilia wanted to pull her hair and block all her friends.

“Little miss secrets here, is getting ready for a date with Max.” Lando told his fellow brit.

“It’s not a date, he’s meeting my parents.” Cecilia said before she could think and sighed, they all howled with laughter.

“You’re already meeting the parents.” Charles said laughing, it was all in good fun, and things have been boring since covid started.

“You all met my parents before, each and everyone of you.” Cecilia said and pointed at them. “You know what, I’m blocking you all.”

With that she ended the call to finish getting ready in peace, they got on her nerves sometimes. She needs more females in her life.

“I just got here.” George groaned.

“You don’t think she’ll actually do it, do you?” Alex asked, suddenly concerned.

“I don’t think so.”

“Me neither.” Charles and Lando comforted the others, they just sat there for a while contemplating the duo, and how they thought things would turn out to be like. Charles knew your mother would tell him if he asked.

Cecilia finished getting ready and went to help her mum with the last of the food, Cecilia really wasn’t dressed up, she just had light makeup and a sundress, it was getting warmer now, and they were eating out on the terrace. Seeing her mum in a dress Nattie also wanted to change into a dress as well.

“Go help her, your dad and I will finish here.” her mum said and patted her back, Cecilia took Nattie to her room and made her choose the dress she wanted, midway she heard the doorbell ring, and she knew Max had arrived.

Max was greeted by your dad, he of course saw him before, but it was always from afar they never talked. “Nice to meet you sir.”

“You too, come in please.” Max was led inside he glanced around, this is the house you grew up and lived your whole life in, the penthouse is bigger than the apartment he lives in, for one he rents they own, this one is two stories with apparently a gym. But it felt lived in, from what Cecilia told him is that her dad’s family had generational wealth, but her mum came from a humble bringing, so yes they had the best things in life, but her mum made them know how lucky and privileged they were. As teens they had to work to earn their money, and learn to do things on their own, they never had a nanny or a chef, someone did come in to clean twice a week, so they did their chores, their mum really wanted them to grow up as normal as she could when your dad is a billionaire.

“I didn’t know what to bring.” Max said and handed her dad a couple of wine bottles, he had ordered online. Looking at her dad, he saw a lot of him in Cecilia and in turn Nathalie, all their colours are her dad, her lips and nose being the only thing he couldn’t place on him.

“You didn’t need to bring anything, but we’ll enjoy it I’m sure.” Cecilia’s dad led him inside to the living room, not the formal one for guests, the one they hosted their friends and family in, the walls were all mostly glass with doors leading to the big terrace. “Cecilia is changing Nattie, the girl took one look at her mum in a dress and suddenly she wants to wear one too.”

“Max! Hello.” Cecilia’s mum walked up with open arms greeting the man, Max had just sat down, stood up quickly just as he was pulled in a motherly hug, she kissed his cheeks like the french one on each side before she pulled back.

“Nice to meet your Mrs. Hansson.” Max greeted the smiley woman, and he knew where you took your lips and nose from, the perfect blend between your parents.

“Please call me Adeline.” She waved his formalities off. “I saw you grow up with Cecilia, sorry I look like a mess.”

“No, no you don’t… Do you need some help.” Max offered, he could smell the food already coming from the kitchen.

“Nonsense, sit down and talk with Börje, I’m almost done.” With that she gracefully left, sitting back down he faced Cecilia’s dad.

“Cecilia told us you’re quarenting alone.” Börje said and Max nodded, they talked a little about what he was doing since lockdown started, her dad shared how hard it was to run a business from home, especially since HQ was in sweden.

“Pappa, don’t bore him with your work.” Cecilia called to her dad as Nattie ran in the room to her grand-père before she saw Max and turned to run to him, Max caught the girl and pulled her up on the sofa beside him.

“He’s not bored.” Her dad said acting hurt by her words after rolling his eyes. “I’m not boring you Max am I?”

“No, not at all.” Shaking her head at him, MAx greeted her daughter, before he stood up and gave her a small hug.

“In that case, take care of my child while I help maman.” Cecilia said and turned to her dad. “Can you set the table?”

“Sure thing Älskling.” (Darling) Her dad said and the men moved out to the terrace, there was a cabinet there with a sink and everything for when they had BBQs out there, it was filled with plates and cutlery. Once again Nathalie wanted to help so Max had her placing the spoons and forks in their place. If your dad had doubts about Max before they’re starting to disappear now. He saw Max like the public saw him, only what he presented, and to be honest he doesn’t like Jos but seeing how he talked with Nattie, his instincts as a father were calm.

After they were done with the table, the men found themselves by the railing, Max was looking at the view, glancing at the girl who was swinging on the small playground set, her granddad had installed for her.

“Cecilia might kill me for saying this but, when she was pregnant she used to watch a lot of your races.” Börje told the driver he was amused thinking about it now, because if he thinks too deeply all he feels is rage and sadness, an overwhelming feeling of sadness.

“Did she?” Max asked and turned to copy Cecilia’s dad’s stance, they leaned back on the railing, this is news to him.

“Yeah, she’d say how she wanted to do that, she’d dream of getting in F1. Did you know that Ferrari were in talks with her in 2016 about maybe signing her and having her as a reserve driver.” Max looked surprised at the news, Cecilia got pregnant during negotiations and her lawyer(dad’s lawyers) got her out of the deal with smooth talks and ended things on a good note for future possibilities. “Right when she got pregnant, it took a lot for her to decide what to do. She was glowing when she held Nattie and told us she wanted to get back into racing.”

“She’s lucky she had you supporting her, not many parents would.” Max spoke the truth, wealthy or not, not many parents would have their adult children’s backs like that.

“She’s my girl, even if she’s an adult with a daughter of her own, that's my baby girl.” Börje said, before Max called for Nattie to be careful, right before Börje was about to, the girl took to swinging and then jumping. The set was on a type of foam mat but she could still hurt herself. “Cecilia has always been honest with us, and I can see that you care, not many men would get in a relationship with a woman who has a child, but like I told you, that’s my little girl and I don’t want to see her heartbroken.”

“She won’t I promise.” Max promised his eyes and tone telling the truth, Börje smiled and patted his back.

“Max, can you help Cecilia bring out the food?” Adeline asked coming out with the salad, when Börje moved to also help she gave him a look, happily married for 30 years now, made him understand her with only a look.

When Max walked in the kitchen he was met with Cecilia taking a baking dish out of the oven before she sat it on the counter. “Need help?”

“Huh, yeah. Mum made so much food you’d think she’s feeding an army.” Cecilia said and looked at all the food sitting in trays and serving dishes, the quantity wasn’t a lot but she made a lot of options. “We'll all be eating this for days to come.”

Max came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, she smiled and turned her head kissing his cheek. “Haven’t been able to say hi properly.”

“Sorry about that.” She turned in his arms and hugged him around the neck, his arms around her waist, they stood there for a moment before they pulled back, as much as Max wanted to kiss her lips, they’re at your parent’s house and they’re here, so out of respect for them he kissed her forehead before he pulled away and they started bringing the food out, on the last trip she got a bottle of chilled white wine and room temp red one(one of the ones Max brought) along with a wine looking glass that had juice for the little princess.

Max and Cecilia sat across from her parents with Nattie between her mum and her boyfriend to be(?). They didn’t want to label it, but they are kind of in a relationship. If you spend time with a man, occasionally kiss said man, talk to said man at all hours of the day and night, go to his house three times a week so you’d spend time together doesn’t that mean you’re dating? Please someone tell Cecilia to make a move already.

Max turned up his charm for the day, he had her parents laughing and engaging in all sorts of conversation, he complimented the cooking, the house, he even managed to talk business with her dad. All points for him in their book. Hearing Cecilia laugh with a man like she hasn’t in over four years made the points easy to give. With eyes that only parents had, they watched how when she laughed as she leaned towards him, her arm falling on his shoulder even with Nattie between them it all looked natural, a family in the making.

Ceciliahansson15

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Ceciliahansson15

liked by Carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, Pierregasly and 2,197,009 others

ceciliahansson15 A little wine never hurt anybody

view all 86,984 comments

username1 on my knees🧎‍♀️

username2 who got you those flowers 🤔

charles_leclerc 👀

georgerussell63 👀

ceciliahansson15 grow up!! 🙄😒

username3 what do you know???

username4 soft launch

alex_albon can I be invited the next time I'm in Monaco 👉👈

ceciliahansson15 literarly my mum invites half the grid over everytime! you chose not to come last year

alex_albon I WAS TIRED! I'M SORRY

ceciliahansson15 it's okay it was only a couple of us last year anyways 🤷‍♀️

username8 i wanna be invited 🥺

username5 is she soft launching? or is she just aesthetic🤔

username6 why not aesthetic and soft launching

username5 like the way you think 👍

username7 I lover her insta so much so pleasing to look at

Next->

Taglist:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader , @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos .

#f1 x reader #my girls #f1 imagine #max verstappen #f1 scenario #f1dr #max verstappen one shot #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x oc

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infin1ty-garden · 11 months

Text

STILL ALIVE

ೃ⁀➷ summary: headcanons of the f1 drivers as the scream killer, ghostface ೃ⁀➷ charcters: CS55, LN4, OP81, LS2, CL16, MV1 & DR3 ೃ⁀➷ warnings: mention of murder, drugs and drinking ೃ⁀➷ word count: 1k ೃ⁀➷ author note: suppose to be a halloween special but couldn't finish it in time

masterlist.

CARLOS AND LANDO

They are kind of the Billy and Stu being ghostface for fun mostly and fame Lando was already popular but in school that couldn't compare to real fame and the fastest way to do so, be a serial killer And who better to be a accomplice then his best friend, Carlos The first victim was easy Lando found out his charm still worked even on the phone while Carlos did the killing Carlos never felt better, the thrill of kill will be something he wouldn't be able to live without That's where you come in having arrived home to find your boyfriend covered in blood

"Baby, it's not what it looks like," you were horrified understandably. You tried running but Lando stopped you from leaving. "Sweety don't leave. It's gonna be okay," you were suddenly out like a light. Only to wake up tied to a chair and duct tape covering your mouth.

You started thrashing around in order to free yourself but to no avail. "Don't worry we won't hurt you," Lando said as he slowly caressed your face. Your head jerked violently away from him. "He isn't lying. We will never harm you. I know your scared and confused."

They kept to their promise to you but the killings didn't stop But your relationship changed with Carlos. It took time to trust him again and Lando as well They treated you like a queen, it was all so confusing. They were murderers. They had killed people What will you do turn them in or be a accomplice by association?

OSCAR AND LOGAN

Oscar had been using the ghostface identity for a while now what he didn't expect was a showdown with the real ghostfaces Once Logan finally managed to take off the mask only for his friend's eye to be staring back at him Since that moment the three of you teamed up, worked together, killed together It has brought you closer and added a new partner to your and Logan's relationship Logan for a while has had some form of feelings for Oscar, only now realising that those weren't just friendship but love Oscar fit right in with the both of you like this was meant to happen

Oscar and Logan had gone out for a kill. Their victim this time, your ex. The guy decided to pop back into your life, thought he could embarrass you or coax the boys in leaving you. Whatever his plan was...

They couldn't let that slide. His blood was the one on their knives. Every stab brought a smile to their faces. Only stopping when he wasn't breathing. Logan was a bit shaken up despite everything he still wasn't used to it.

Once they'd come home the first thing Logan did was look for you. Oscar and you spent the rest of your night comforting Logan. Playing with his hair and cuddling. It was a nice finish to the day.

CHARLES LECLERC

Charles had been obsessed with you for a while but now he didn't have to hide his affection with the ghostface identity he could act anyway he wanted It would be an understatement if say ghostface bringing you roses wasn't weird Wasn't ghostface a vicious killer murdering a bunch of people on campus He would leave you different gifts every time but never appearing himself, untill...

"What's your favourite scary movie?" You rolled your eyes. "Pierre, this is so unoriginal on halloween really?" The only answer on the other side is breathing. "This isn't fucking Pierre," you walked around the apartment locking the doors just incase.

"Okay then who are you," you said, taking a knife. "There's no need for that," ghostface suddenly appeared slowly making his way towards you. "I'm not going to hurt you," you swung the knife. "Sure," then in a second the knife was flying out of your hands and you were pinned to the wall.

"I mean it, I didn't spend weeks planning the perfect gifts for you to treat me like this."

"I don't care, take them back," he held your face so you were looking at him. The mask was removed and you saw the face of your best friend staring at you. "Charles! WHAT THE FUCK! You scared the shit out of me," he moved away from you.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you so badly," you gently cradled his face. "You dumb idiot."

DANIEL AND MAX

Both of the drivers have had a crush on you and what better way to get rid off the competition then murdering them You would come crying to them about one of your friends dying. They would be all comforting, despite they're the reason for your distress Your reaction would not deter them from their actions, in fact encourage them You would become closer and more dependent on them. It made them feel like they're on cloud nine. All this attention from you like a drug they can't get enough of You were with them almost all the time

You were at a halloween party one of your friends was having. Max and Daniel stuck to you like two guard dogs. Anybody who they didn't recognize or got too close, they would stand in front of you like a wall. Daniel was dressed up as a shirtless cowboy and Max as ghostface.

You had gotten really drunk and Daniel had lost track of you. You were looking to get even more drunk but someone grabbed your waist grinding their boner into you. Without a word he started taking you to a room, one you didn't recognize.

Everything was a blur. The guy was on you and started kissing you. The same dude was suddenly thrown on the ground. Daniel was in front of you in an instant. "Hey, did he do anything to you," he asked, looking over every part of you. Max was dealing with the dude.

By dealing, killing. You stared in shock. No matter how drunk. It was still murder. Max started stabbing him and didn't stop until he was choking on his own blood. "Max?" Daniel quickly turned your face away from the scene as you hugged him. "I just wanna go home."

It took you a while to trust Max again but you did cuz you had no one else

Thanks for reading!

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theundercoversquid · 5 months

Text

A Conversation on Children

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x F!Reader

Request: Hey there my fav squid ever :) I've been reading a lot of baby imagines everywhere and tbh I'm having trouble getting into them since I've decided that I do not want to be a mom (not judging anyone tho).

Would you please write something like the reader talking to Pierre about not wanting to have kids and them having a really meaningful conversation about it?? it would mean the absolute world to me <3

A/N: For a start I am so, so sorry this took so long for me to get around to writing! But better late than never, I hope...

Also, I totally get not wanting to have children. Not everyone wants them, and that is perfectly okay (I still don't know if I would want to have kids, hence why the series is nicely cathartic)

I just hope I have done the subject justice!

Warnings: Talk of children and not wanting children

Masterlist

Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as you gripped them in your lap. You stared at their trembling, unable to look at the man seated across from you.

"What is it you want to talk about, mon amour," Pierre questioned.

"It's that well," you started before trailing off and trying again." I just wanted to talk to you about." But again, you trailed off.

"What's going on, mon amour," Pierre questioned again. "You are really starting to scare me."

"Children," you suddenly blurted out, Causing Pierre to look at you funny. His head cocked to the side like a confused puppy. "I don't want to have children." You clarified. "I don't want to be a mum."

But once you had started to talk, you couldn't seem to stop yourself.

"I don't like the idea of having children and having to raise children. Especially not in the world we are currently living in. And no, this is not something I am willing to change my mind on. I don't want to have children. Not now. Not ever." You told Pierre. Still not looking at him in the face. "And I totally understand that if you want to have children that this relationship is not going to work out. But as much as I love you, I am not willing to stay with you if this is something that you don't agree with. If you want children, I am not going to hold you back from having them. But equally, you can't stay with me if you think that you will be able to convince me to have children."

"Oh, Merci Dieu." Pierre murmed under his bretah. Causing you to finally turn to look at him.

"Mon amour." Pierre softly called, holding his hand out for you. Gently inviting you to take his hand. When you did, he softly squeezed it. Giving you a reassuring look

"I don't want to have children either," Pierre admitted. "I have been worrying about when the best time was to tell you, and instead, you have stolen the words right out of my mouth."

Surprised you didn't quite know what to say.

"I know it may come as a surprise. But I truly don't want kids. Not just between my job and the state of the world. I agree with you, I don't want to have kids and I don't want to be a father."

"Really?" You questioned why you had seen Pierre with his nieces and nephews and were surprised to hear that.

"Really," Pierre nodded. "I love being the fun uncle, don't get me wrong. But I don't want to have to have my own kids. I think some people are built to be parents, and some are not, and that is okay."

"So the two of us aren't built to be parents?" You questioned.

"From what you have said, yes. The two of us are not meant to be parents, and that is okay. Just because you are a woman doesn't mean that you have to have kids. I will never, ever think less of you for it; if anything, I am relieved." Pierre admitted.

"Oh, you don't know how relieved I am." You sighed, relieved, causing your hands to stop shaking and for your shoulders to relax. "So many people have tried to tell me that I am wrong, that when I grow up and find the right man, I will want to have children. But I know that is not true. I have found the right man for me and still don't want to have children."

"I don't have the same expectations on me as you do," Pierre admitted. But just now, I am on the same page as you, and will never ask you or pressure you to have kids. As I don't want them just as much as you."

"Oh, I am so relieved", You breathed, letting out a breath before you lunged forward. Grabbing Pierre by the collar and pulling him in for a kiss.

When you let him go, Piere sat down with a dreamy sigh. "God, I love you," he murmured, causing you to laugh.

Translations:

Merci Dieu = Thank God

#f1 #f1 imagine #Pierre Gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly fanfiction #pierre gasly fanfic #f1 x you #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #!femail #female reader

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vinvantae · 1 year

Text

Unmasked

7/16

<<<previous part

Word count: 3.1k

****************

As the new year rolled around, the idea of leaving Monaco was a little daunting. It was another step, another place for you and Charles to become closer and the definition of your relationship was becoming unclearer by the day. You knew you needed to talk to the team about it but you weren’t sure how they’d react to the fact the fake relationship they’d made had started to shift into something real.

The day after New Years, you were flying out to Bali for the final stage of the itinerary. You and Charles would be posting simultaneous stories and posts of you both on holiday but still in the ‘soft launch’ format. Your teammate could tell that it was all taking a toll on you, whether you’d admit it to him or not. With all of the speculation about Thirty growing by the day, you were becoming more and more cautious about what you did - not wanting to leave a bad taste in people’s mouths when you finally did take off the mask.

And he realised, you were worried that your relationship would turn people against you. It was hard enough being a WAG of an F1 driver, people simply hating you for the fact you were dating a driver - but when you’d be revealed to be a driver yourself? You were scared, terrified even, that they would think the worse of you.

“…was I being too clingy at Pierre’s party?” You asked, zipping up your suitcase.

Charles remembered back to that night - you were no more affectionate than anyone else’s partner. If anything Charles himself was the clingy one, he wanted to have his hands on you at any opportunity, run his hands over your waist and hips. “No, I don't think so. Why do you ask?”

“People just said-“

“Who’s people?”

“Online they-“

He sighed softly, turning you to face him - your eyes were a little red. “They don’t matter, Cherie. What matters is how you think, what the people you care about think.”

You looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering a little. “And you don’t think I was too clingy?”

“If anything.., you weren’t clingy enough.” The Monaco native chuckled softly, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw - brushing his thumb across your skin. “But that night? If you didn’t notice, I found it hard to keep my hands to myself.”

The way you giggled made his heart leap, the two of you still hadn’t really discussed what you were to each other but he found himself wanting you more everyday. You had yet to share more than a kiss but he wasn’t going to cross any line you weren’t comfortable with. But he secretly hoped that maybe your trip would be the next step in exploring your relationship but you still seemed to have some walls up.

“Thank you. I honestly think I’d go insane without you, Charles.” You smiled softly, learning into his touch. “You’ve been such a rock for me.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, y/n.” Before you could protest, he leant in and pressed a sweet kiss on your lips. “Let’s go, we’ve got a plane to catch.”

You nodded and hauled your suitcase off of the bed, the two of you heading downstairs to greet Jean-Luc who would take you to the helipad and then to the airport from Nice. He was a quiet man, you'd met a couple of times before but didn’t know much other than his name.

Charles had originally wanted to take the Piasta but you’d convinced him that someone would have to drive it straight back here so it wasn’t worth it. He’d pouted a little but knew you were correct so didn’t fight you anymore. He helped Jean-Luc load your things into the trunk of the car before the two of you slipped into the back, sharing a quiet conversation about the itinerary for your trip.

During the party, Charles had let slip of your holiday plans so you discovered that a few other drivers were going to join for a few days - not what you wanted at first but your teammate reminded you that you had wanted to get to know the other drivers so perhaps it wasn’t the worst idea. And there would be other girls this time like the party so you wouldn’t stand out quite as much.

But for the first week, at least Monday to Friday, it would just be the two of you - soaking up the sun. Or so you thought.

You spent more than a good chunk of each afternoon or evening stuck inside, the rainiest month of the year in Bali was upon you - something the team clearly had not taken into account. Sure the days were mostly full of sunshine and swimming, but heavy downpour had you racing back inside more than you had hoped. Both of you squeezing on a lounger, you reading a book, Charles on his phone, turned into you both being hidden under the duvet in your pyjamas - hair and skin still damp from the sudden change in weather.

By Thursday, you had gotten more than used to checking the forecast - determined not to get caught out - so as the heavens opened that evening, instead of racing back to your room, you were already there. Charles traced his fingers up and down your spine as you napped with your head on his chest, your dinner reservations not until 7. The driver stared up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts as your warm breath fanned across his chest.

All he wanted was the best for you - whether that meant being in a real relationship with him or not? He wasn’t sure. But as long as you were happy, that was what mattered. Your teammate knew his feelings for you were strong, that he was definitely falling for you and he hoped you felt the same but things were still fresh for you both. Going into the 2022 season, things would change - your identity as number Thirty getting closer to being revealed and he hoped, through it all, that the two of you might just make it.

He was brought back into the room when you yawned, sitting up and stretching your arms above your head - looking at the clock. “Wow, that was a good nap… I don’t know if I’m gonna have enough time to get ready!”

Charles chuckled. “It’s only half 5, you’ve got plenty of time. It takes 10 minutes to get to the restaurant.”

You looked back over your shoulder at him, the driver had his arm propped up behind his head - his eyes looking particularly green in the light that was pouring in from the sun beginning to dip behind the horizon. You honestly couldn’t believe your luck that someone like Charles Leclerc was in to you - he could pull anyone but he chose you and the thought made you giddy.

“Some of us have to put in effort to look good, Charles.” You hummed, running a hand through his hair. “You could go out like this and no one would even bat an eye.”

He practically purred into your touch, preening like a kitten. “Pretty boy.”

“Stop that.” He protested, cheeks flushed a soft pink at your words. “Get yourself ready.”

You giggled and slid out of bed, Charles couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you pulled your T-shirt over your head as you walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. He groaned and covered his face with his hands - seeing you in swimwear everyday was torture, your bare skin against his as you relaxed on sunloungers together.

He was trying to behave, but you made it difficult.

The driver grabbed his phone as it buzzed, frowning a little when he saw Max calling - he always got on with the Dutchman, sure, but they didn’t exactly talk much outside of the season.

“Hey mate, everything okay?” Charles propped the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he dug through his suitcase for something to wear.

“You with y/n right now..?”

The Monaco driver frowned. “No? Seriously, what’s this about?”

He heard Max sigh, he could practically see the look on his face. “Look, you don’t have to answer, but… is there something else going on with you two?”

“Max-“

“Okay, that’s not the question I should ask… and you don’t need to answer but I’d appreciate it if you don’t lie to me either.” Max cut him offs

Charles could his heartbeat in his ears, had Max figured you both out? Has he figured you out? “Okay…”

“I know you’ve got some NDA bullshit or whatever but even just… fuck…if I’m right, don’t say anything.”

Charles didn’t know what to do, he could just lie to his childhood rival but he knew Max would see right through him. It was that moment you decided to emerge from the bathroom, - hair and makeup done. You smiled at him softly and raised your eyebrow and mouthing ‘who is it?’ To your teammate.

“One sec.” He said into the receiver, pulling it away just enough so Max could still hear. “Hey, y/n, I’ll just be a minute okay?”

You nodded and started fishing through your suitcase for an outfit, letting your teammate return his phone call. “Still want to ask?”

He could practically see Max’s jaw clench and eyes narrow at the other end of the call. The Monegasque knew that he was playing a dangerous game - taunting Max with your presence. He felt like he was dangling you right in front of the shark, Max was ready to strike and Charles knew it.

“…look, I get it. I’ll drop it.” The Dutchman sounded defeated. “I just… I thought you’d trust me.”

Charles sighed and ran his hand across his face, stepping out onto the balcony - the rain easing up a little. “It’s not that, Max. It’s-“

“No, no. I get it. See you later.”

Before he could say another word, Max hung up. You saw Charles drop his shoulders as he looked at his now dark screen - you didn’t know who he was talking to but his whole demeanour seemed to have shifted. Cautiously, you joined him on the balcony and placed your hand on his lower back.

“Everything okay?” You asked, his green eyes met yours.

You could see the cogs turning as he tried to decide what to tell you - ideally the truth but you knew he’d do his best to protect you. He sighed and wrapped his arm around your middle, pulling you into him. “…max… max knows something. I’m not sure if it’s about the relationship or about you being Thirty but… I don’t know what to do.”

“…maybe… maybe we should tell him.” Charles opened his mouth to speak but you continued. “I know… it’s breaching the NDA but if people are going to find out soon anyway with all of these leaks, what’s the harm in letting someone else in? It’s Max, Charles. We grew up with him. I know I’ve grown apart from him but I feel like we can trust him, don’t you?”

“I’d like to think we could but what if-“

You pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss to stop him rambling. “Then fuck it. I’m so done with this. I want the people, the drivers around me to respect me… see me more than just your girl, a Ferrari admin, y’know?”

“Only if you’re sure, I don’t want you getting hurt or in trouble or fired, sued… whatever.” He sighed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I… can’t see you getting hurt, y/n. You mean too much.”

You brought your hand up, brushing your thumb across his jaw - smiling calmly at him before leaning in to kiss him again, this time with more purpose. He pulled you closer, hands toying with the toggle of your robe. You smiled into the kiss before pulling back. “Behave.”

“Sorry, sorry.” His cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Hard to control myself around you.”

“Let’s get some dinner okay? We only have a couple more days of peace before the trip gets crashed.” A soft hum left your lips as you pushed some of his hair from his forehead. “We can figure out what to say to Max.”

Charles found it hard to keep to his word, keeping his hands to himself became even more of a challenge when you showed him your outfit for the evening, the soft expanse of your skin was complemented beautifully by the colour of your dress. He wanted to slowly peel it off of your body and worship you but he also wanted to do good by you.

Even if that meant spoiling you fully dressed.

*******

Charles_leclerc and yourusername added to their story

You and Charles sat in the restaurant on Saturday evening, the table opposite you empty as you waited for Max to arrive. The last few days before some of the drivers had shown up were truly wonderful - your teammate had spent every second making sure you had a good time and keeping you distracted from the pressures of the outside. But that didn’t mean you hadn’t prepared for this, that you hadn’t spent hours discussing how best to tell your childhood friend.

Charles tugged lightly at your hand to stop you chewing at the skin around your thumb nervously. He gave it a gentle squeeze before nodding towards the entrance of the restaurant- where you could now see the Dutchman stood talking to the host before pointing towards you both.

“Breathe.” You whispered, noticing the man beside you had stiffened up. “It’s just Max, we’ve got this.”

You stood up to greet the Redbull driver, feeling a little shocked as he pulled you into a hug like he would his guy friends - with the obligatory pat on the back, before doing the same with Charles.

“It’s good to see you both, you look well.” He smiled kindly, unlike the two of you he seemed totally relaxed. “Have you ordered anything yet?”

“Ah no, we were waiting for you.” You sat back in your seat, letting Charles’ hand rest on your thigh. “Thanks for meeting us… I’m not gonna beat around the bush with this.”

You paused for a moment whilst the waiter took your orders, silence settling over the table whilst you took a minute to find your words. “Before I say anything, you have to swear to take this to the grave…”

“Look, y/n, I know we’ve grown apart but I still care about you.” The champion cut you off, giving you a smile. “I wouldn’t purposefully hurt you, you can tell me the truth.”

The truth. He has figured it out.

“You’re gonna make me say it aren’t you?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile, his blue eyes twinkled at you and he raised a brow. “I’m Thirty.”

He burst out laughing, almost falling out of his chair with the way it wracked through him.

“Mate, why are you laughing?” Charles frowned.

The Dutchman wiped his eyes. “Sorry, I just… I knew what you were going to say but hearing you say it? I’ve felt crazy for months… I’m so relieved, you have no idea.”

“How did you figure me out?”

“Honestly? Your story about leaving F2 was always bullshit to me, I never believed it and then when the stories started coming out about who Thirty potentially was… you shot to the top of my list. I'm so happy it’s you, y/n. You deserve this greatness.”

Your cheeks flushed.

“Can I ask something? Why did you decide to tell me, of all people?”

Charles moved his arm from your leg to around the back of your chair, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze - just showing he was there supporting you, not chirping in, just observing.

“Well, for starters, you were on to me.” You narrowed your eyes playfully. “But secondly, I know we’ve grown apart over the years but I know you, Max. Even as bratty little kids, you always had my back.”

“Still do… so, is it just me, Charles and Sebastian who know? Driver-wise.”

You nodded. “And for now, I’d like to keep it that way. Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Any time, uh… give me your phone? I wanna give you my number. Just in case.”

After exchanging numbers and enjoying dinner with your teammate and rival, the three of you left the restaurant- a driver either side of you as you approached the car. You turned and gave Max a hug.

“Thanks for not bombarding me with questions, I’m sure you had plenty.” You could feel his chuckle as he gave you a squeeze. “Maybe another time.”

“It was nice to see you again, properly. I hope someday soon everyone else gets to see you for who you truly are.” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Just because I know it’s you, doesn’t mean I’m gonna go easier on you, right?”

You grinned. “You never did, Max.”

Even though he was just one person, telling Max the truth had lifted a huge weight off of your shoulders and all of a sudden you felt like you could breathe easier. He played the role of not knowing very well - continuing to treat you the same as before, not wanting to cause suspicion with the rest of the group that had joined you and Charles on the trip. No one seemed any the wiser.

And as much as you hated to admit it, Charles was right. Having some of the grid and their partners with you in Bali was so much fun, and getting to know them all was so relaxing. Sure, they didn’t know the full truth about you but for the first time in years you felt like you could truly be yourself around people.

Whether it was going shopping with Lily or playing cards with Pierre and Carlos, you had started to finally feel like you were a part of something. They really treated you like you belonged, that you were one of their own.

But it made one thought, one feeling, more intense than you could’ve ever imagined.

You had to take the mask off.

It was time to talk to the team.

********

Next part >>>

Here it is, again, sorry that the gap between parts has been longer recently. Had to add some filler chapters that I hadn’t planned for, hopefully will get back into the flow of it soon ❤️

Want to be updated when I post? Join our discord and then head to #reaction-roles and add yourself to my tags ❤️

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #formula one #x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #unmasked fic #leclerc x you #leclerc x reader

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vroom63 · 2 years

Text

Positions // P.G

Warnings: alcohol, smut, language, unprotected sex (no glove, no love irl peeps)

Summary: Pierre post that stupid puppy emoji, chaos follows

Word count: 1.8k

Author's note: not beta read or edited as per usual. Welcome to hell..

“Pierre Gasly, you did not.” you scream from your position on the couch. His head pops out from the kitchen, a curious look on his face. “Tell me you did not tell the entire world your favourite sex position?!” the look on your face is something Pierre would like to have framed, thank you very much.

“Not in so many words, no.” he answers, a cheeky grin on his face. “You are the absolute worst. And also basic as fuck,” you say, throwing him a look before going back to reading his comment section. “What do you mean I’m basic?” he asks, not really sure what you’re getting at. “Doggy is literally every guy's favorite position.” you roll your eyes at him. “Oh yeah? And what’s your favorite position then little miss creativity?” he asks with a challenging look in his eyes. You feel your cheeks flush. You had absolutely no intention of this turning on you. “I do believe that is none of your business,” you say, keeping your eyes on your phone. “Come on,” he pressed, “you know mine.”. “Knowledge I have against my will you mean,” you say, finally looking up at him. He wears that stupid charming smile that could make you do just about anything.

Before you can react, Pierre has grabbed your phone and put it on the coffee table, demanding your full attention. “Come on cherie, you can tell me. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” he says with a soft voice. You mumble something about him being the most annoying person on the planet under your breath, looking straight into his eyes. You can feel the tension in the room rising. “What exactly do you need this information for?” you ask, trying to prolong having to answer him. “To help you get laid, obviously. That's what best friends are for you know.” he answers without missing a beat. Of course. Best friends. Friendzoned to infinity. Great.

“I’d say pressed against the wall, facing it obviously, or perched on a table.” you say, deciding he’s going to get the answer regardless of how long you try not to answer. You can see his eyes widen a fraction before he gets control of his expression. “Those are good too, I will store the information for later.” he says. “That sounded really creepy, Pear.” you shoot back, rising an eyebrow. “You understood perfectly what I meant, now go get ready. Charles is picking us up for drinks in about an hour.” he says, extending a hand to help you up from the couch.

Deciding to throw all caution out the window, you pick a short, tight fitting black dress that you know Pierre loves on you. If he wants to “help you get laid”, you will make it as hard as possible for him. He might be your best friend, but you have seen those beautiful blue eyes wander over your body before. It’s not like sexual tention is something new between the two of you, you usually just don’t agknowledge it. “Is that what you are wearing?” you hear a voice say from your doorway. Turning around, you see Pierre leaning against the wall, black jeans and a white linen shirt. He’s only bothered to do up half of the buttons, leaving his broad chest and that unholy cross necklace on display. Two people playing dirty tonight then.

Charles’ driver takes you to your favorite club in Milan. Sliding into a booth in the back of the establishment, Pierre sits down beside you, closer than he normally would. “What would you like to drink?” Charles asks, not bothering to sit down as he’s getting the first round. With your orders in mind, Charles heads to the bar. “You know, you didn’t have to get this dressed up for drinks.” Pierre says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music. “Really? I thought you were going to help me get laid,” you say with a slight frown on your face. Pierre observes you for a minute, but before he can answer, Charles is back with your drinks.

The night slips away in drinks and laughter, and before you know it you’re four drinks in and slightly tipsy. “Come on Pear, I wanna dance.” you say, tugging on his arm. It doesn’t take much to make him comply, hand in yours as you head for the dancefloor. It’s crowded, like it should be on a Friday night, but not uncomfortably so. You can still move without bumping into the person next to you. You lose track of time as you dance, and suddenly you feel a pair of hands gripping your hips, pulling you back towards whoever it is. You open your eyes, and meet Pierre’s, which have gone a stormy, dark blue in the flashing lights of the club. “You look so good in this dress,” you can hear Charles slurred words in your ear, and you freeze. Oh no. Turning around to look at him, you observe that he is way beyond trashed. “Hey Charlie, I think it’s time to get you home, yes?” you ask, throwing one of his arms over your shoulder as you turn back to Pierre, who looks thunderous. “Yes baby, take me to bed.” Charles slurs, barely audible. You chuckle, leading him out of the club and into a taxi.

Closing the front door behind you, you kick off your heels and lean against it. Pierre has not said a single word since leaving the club, and it’s starting to annoy you. “Are you ok?” you ask, him standing with his back towards you. “I’m fine,” he says, slowly turning around, “Why would I not be fine?”. “You just haven’t said a word since Charles came up to us on the dancefloor,” you say, slightly worried about how tense he looks. “I know you wanted to get laid, sorry Charles ruined that.” you continue. “You think I’m annoyed that Charles ruined my chance of getting some?” he asks, an incredulous look on his face. “Yes?” it comes out more like a question than an answer. “Oh no Cherie.” he says, slowly walking towards you, “I am annoyed that Charles put his hands on you.”.

Time seems to freeze. Crazy hot best friend said what now? “Nobody should put their hands on you like that without your consent,” he continues. “It’s just Charles, Pear. You know he didn’t mean anything by it.” you say. “Doesn’t mean he’s allowed to touch you like that. No man should ever touch you like that.” Pierre’s eyes have darkened considerably since leaving the club. You just stand there, unsure of what to say. “No man but me.” he says, and it feels like time stands still. Pierre is now standing just inches in front of you, towering over you. “Is that ok Peach? Am I allowed to touch you?” he asks, as if underlining his point about consent. “Yes,” you whisper, barely audible. “Now come on Peach, give me a proper answer,” he says. You clear your throat, that suddenly feels like it’s gone bone dry. “Yes,” you repeat, more power to your voice now, “please.”.

The smirk spreading across his face is nothing but feral. In one swift move, he has managed to place one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek. “Tell me if I need to stop,” he says, and before you can answer, his lips are crashing into yours. It feels like coming home. Like the summer sun on your skin. Like a cozy fire on a dark winter's night. It feels right, and it takes you about 0.2 seconds before your hands wind up in his hair, tugging slightly. It manages to get a groan out of Pierre, and it might be the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard.

Breaking the kiss, Pierre starts his journey down your body, placing delicate kisses on every inch of skin he can reach. Tugging up your dress, he does not hesitate before his lips explore the apex of your thighs. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulder, he tugs your underwear to the side and dives in. The feeling of his tongue on your clit makes a shuddering breath leave you, and when he decides to add a couple of fingers to the mix, a loud moan leaves you. This only seems to spur him on. “Pierre,” you moan, pulling harder on his hair. That particular move makes him moan against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure up your spine. It doesn’t take long for you to come undone on his tongue, his name on your lips as you climax.

Standing up slowly, he has a wide grin spread across his face. “You taste absolutely delicious cherie,” he says, crowding you up against the wall. You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks. His hands reach for the hem of your dress, pulling it off you in one sweeping motion. His clothes follow shortly after, and you only get a second to admire him in his naked glory before he turns you around, pressing you against the door. “Now,” he says, voice deep with arousal, “a little bird told me you like to get fucked up against the wall.”. A whine leaves your lips, ass pushing back against his hard cock. A hiss leaves him before he adjusts his position so he can run his cock between your folds.

“You ready cherie?” he asks, pausing at your entrance. “Please,” you say, not caring how pathetic you sound begging for his cock. In one fluid motion, Pierre pushes into you and stills. Curses are flying left, right and center, and you have never felt so full in your entire life. “You are so tight,” Pierre hisses out, teeth clenched. “You’re so fucking big,” you moan, pushing back against him, “please move.”. Pierre sets a punishing pace, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. You can’t form a coherent thought, only words leaving your lips are “fuck”, “Pierre” and “more”. It doesn’t take long before that familiar burning sensation in your lower abdomen makes itself known. “Pear, I’m gonna cum,” you manage to day between your moans. “Without me touching your clit at all?” he asks, something like pride in his voice, “my, my what a good girl.”.

It doesn’t take more than that for the band to snap, your walls clenching around his cock as you come harder than you ever have before. Pierre follows shortly after, your name falling from his lips like a mantra. “Fuck cherie,” he says, kissing the side of your throat, “next time we’re doing it my way.”. “Next time?” you ask, turning your head to meet his lips is a lingering kiss. “Next time.” he confirms, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

#pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly fic #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #i want him to ruin me #pierre gasly x reader

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singsweetmelodies · 6 months

Text

a little while ago, i got this ask asking me if i could make some sort of introduction to the pierre/charles ship and all its lore. and since they are, without question, my f1 rpf OTP, my answer was oh my god yes of course. it's taken me a little while to compile all that lore - because boy, is there a lot - but it's been one of the happiest research projects of my life, without question. and i think it's finally ready to go!! so, with no further ado...

ABOUT PIARLES: a (not-so-brief) introduction to f1 rpf's french friends to lovers ship

so the first thing you need to know about piarles is that they're childhood best friends. not that uncommon in a sport like f1, to be fair - most of the drivers grew up together, racing against each other in karting. but pierre and charles are a little different in that they aren't just karting acquaintances: the two of them (and their entire families) are genuinely good friends.

in fact, if you ask either pierre or charles about the other (and interviewers often do) one of the first things they'll probably say is "we've known each other for a long time," quickly followed by "we used to go on holiday together when we were kids." and they ALWAYS say this with the fondest expressions 🥰 even if you take shipping completely out of the equation, it's clear that these two have a very long-standing and very close friendship, with many fond memories which both of them seem to treasure very much.

in charles' own words:

"Pierre! We know each other since... a long, long time. We used to go on holidays together when we were children with our parents, and uh... we did quite a bit of mess together when we were children, but (laughs) very good memories. And the relationship never really changed throughout the years, even though we have taken different paths, because he was a bit older, so we weren't always in the same categories. But we would always call each other, text each other, go on holidays together... and yeah, I just have so many memories." (source - watch from timestamp 2:06)

pierre tells a very similar story:

"He's definitely one of my best friends. Charles is a very nice person and an incredible driver. We met when we were 9 years old and created a very strong bond. Our parents are very close, and we went on vacations from when we were 10, so we created lots of memories. We were teammates in karting when we were 12, and today we find ourselves in Formula 1. It's a pretty incredible story. But for me the most important part is to see the person he's become, and he hasn't changed since he was young." (source)

i think it's important to note that these aren't the only times pierre and charles have spoken about each other in glowing terms like this - no, it happens quite frequently. pretty much every time they're asked about each other, tbh. (i'm not going to add quotes from every single time here, though, because we would be here for the rest of the month if i tried. 😅) the point is, piarles are pretty damn close, and think very highly of each other.

but it's not just them that are close: like i mentioned in the first paragraphs of this post, their families are close, too. they really are childhood friends in that "your family is practically my second family" sense, which i think is something really special.

here, for example, is pierre's father jean-jacques talking about charles:

Charles is part of the family. We've known him since he was nine and when he started in karting with Pierre. (...) When the races were in England Charles was sleeping at our place, and when the races were in Italy, Pierre was sleeping at Charles's place. Then Pierre moved to F4. I don't think there have ever been a big rivalry between them even though their careers were similar. Charles is part of the family probably even more since Hervé passed away. Our door will always be open for him and he knows.” (source)

🥹

what's more, charles has also said numerous times that it's hard to maintain true friendships in f1 - but his bond with pierre is one of those rare exceptions:

It’s rare I think, it’s very rare to have a sincere friendship in F1, because there’s a lot of competition. So yes there’s friendship, but it’s not always entirely sincere - but with Pierre it really is, and it has always been. (source)

they're friends. they really are friends, not just friendly coworkers, like many of the other f1 drivers are. pierre and charles genuinely like and appreciate each other's company very much - which, even if you put shipping completely aside, is just such a wonderful thing, and always makes me smile so much.

one of my personal favourite moments was when pierre talked about charles on the beyond the grid podcast in 2023:

"That's why I really like these chats that I can have with Charles, because I know with Charles, discussing about both our lives, we won't judge each other... because we know what it's like and we just speak very openly about various things. And I know it's almost like a happy place or a comfortable place where you really feel you can open up. He'll understand, I'll understand him..." (source - listen from timestamp 32:01)

if that doesn't make your heart melt at least a little bit, then i don't know what to say to you.

... no, actually, i do. if this kind of sentimentality won't do it for you, how about a bit of silliness and humour?

that's right. like any good childhood friends, pierre and charles also have an embarrassing nickname for each other: "calamar," which is french for "squid." (we know that they call each other that courtesy of charles' insta).

what on earth is the origin of this nickname, you may be wondering? well, according to pierre...

"It goes back to a long time ago when we were kids, like... nine, ten years old. We would go on holidays together and spend more time. I don't know. It just came, like one day we decided to call each other calamar, which is not really such a beautiful nickname, but yeah it was just for fun. We were kids and we were laughing. And actually, we have many other nicknames because we were teammates also in karting and we spent a lot, a lot of time together. So, a lot of nicknames came alongside all this time. And this kind of stayed with us." (source)

as pierre said in this quote, "calamar" is not even the only nickname they have - pierre sometimes calls charles "charlito" and also "charlo," while charles calls pierre "mon petit."

and as if that's not enough, they're also that pair of boyfriends friends who always have to bring each other up in conversation. if there's ever an interview question along the lines of "which f1 driver would you...." then you can pretty much bet pierre will answer "charles," and charles will answer "pierre."

for example, here is pierre choosing charles as the one f1 driver he'd take for a drink. and here is charles naming pierre as his best friend in the paddock. oh, and here is pierre saying he'd choose charles as one driver to take with him to a desert island. there's more, but i think you get the idea 😆❤️

so yeah! that's a quick(ish) overview of the background/context of piarles - AKA the french (yes, i know charles is monégasque, but he SPEAKS french) friends/boyfriends on the grid.

(if you'd like to know more details about their friendship, especially about their pre-f1 years, then i recommend this post and its follow-up compiled by the incredible @vegasgrandprix. these posts really are a treasure trove for piarles history & lore!)

but now that i've painted a pretty clear picture of their friendship, let's move on to some more shippy moments, shall we? the "lovers" part of friends to lovers <3333

believe it or not, eveything up till now was just the background information about piarles. it's more than enough to build an OTP on already, i'd say - but wait, there's more!

the thing with pierre and charles is that along with being friends, they are also french (or....french-adjacent. close enough) which means that they have absolutely zero problem with being very openly affectionate with each other.

this has given us some very delicious shipping moments, which i will now try and give an overview of. (my fellow piarlies: if i've left out one of your favourite moments, please forgive me - they have so many moments with each other, and tumblr has a post character limit, so there was just no way for me to include everything, much as i wanted to. but i do think this is a good introduction!)

let's start with perhaps the most iconic piarles moment of them all: monza 2020, aka pierre gasly's first win in f1.

that was a crazy, wonderful day in so many ways - first of all, the race itself was insane. pierre started 10th on the grid, and with a lot of luck + a safety car that really worked out for him, ended up leading the race and defended from carlos sainz with DRS to get his maiden win. this was almost exactly a year after he'd been dropped from red bull, so the win was pretty much the biggest fuck-you to everyone @ RBR and comeback moment for pierre that was possible. it was also a dream come true (every f1 driver dreams about winning a race!) and you only need to look at any interview pierre did afterwards to see how much it meant to him.

what makes it even more insane, though, is that charles was right there to congratulate him and watch his podium. keep in mind that, in the same race, charles crashed out - both ferraris did, in monza of all places. i don't think anyone would've been surprised, or held it against him at all, if charles just kept his head down for the rest of that day.

but no. even though he wasn't medically cleared after the crash yet (!!) charles went to parc fermé anyway to congratulate pierre. remember that thing i said about them being french and very open with affection? well:

here are some pictures of the monza piarles congratulations hug. (am i the only one who thinks it looks like charles wants to kiss pierre in that second pic?! god....) here and here are some more angles of the hug to go insane over, if you like.

you can also watch it in video format here - and yes, charles really did pull pierre out of his hug with romain so that he could congratulate him himself. i know. (also, yes, pierre does pat charles' ass just before they go their separate ways. what can i say? french.)

as if that's not already insane enough, charles also stayed to watch pierre's podium despite not being medically cleared yet after his crash. (we have to thank netflix FOREVER for providing us with that specific behind-the-scenes shot 🙏 drive to survive - you did well that time, you really did.)

and afterwards, charles said:

It was just a dream for one of us to get into F1 one day. In the end we’re both in F1, we’ve both won a GP, both of us in Monza. (...) I was really happy that day, even if my race went wrong, his win made it a good day. (source)

your honour. who says that about another driver's win, especially on a day where you yourself had an awful race? if that's not love in a sport like f1, i don't know what is!

i really could talk about monza 2020 and how much it means for a very long time, but i will rein myself in to just one final comment: isn't it rather beautiful to think that pierre & charles' names will always be next to each other in the monza winners list? charles won there in 2019, and then pierre won there in 2020. talk about soulmatism ❤️💙

now, moving on to another absolutely iconic (and delightfully gay) piarles moment: baku 2021, aka that time pierre and charles had an awesome last-lap battle for the P3 podium spot.

it was very close racing, with them swapping positions several times down the straight - but they kept it clean. in fact, they kept it so clean that someone remarked it's like they know each other by heart. yup. totally a normal thing to say about two men racing.

equally normal was charles' comments after the race:

"The last lap was my favourite part of the race. It was crazy and had a lot of actions. With Pierre it was hot. I'm happy for him for his podium." (source)

and as if that's not enough, he also GRABBED pierre into a hug in parc fermé, and then held him incredibly close while congratulating him.

you can watch this hug in video format here and gif format here, if you want - and i really recommend doing so, because it's insane to see how charles quite literally crashes into pierre's personal space and yanks him into a hug. (here is a close-up of their helmets during said hug - and you can just say it with me. GAY.)

that's still not all, though: charles congratulated pierre twice after the race. once on the outlap (with a thumbs-up and a middle finger as pierre's car drove past his, LMAO) and then on social media as well (with a nickname and a kiss emoji).

he ALSO commented on pierre's instagram post about the race with another kiss emoji:

so, apparently, charles was thinking about kissing pierre quite a lot in baku 2021. 🤭 an iconic day all around!

and as it happens, 2021 brought us another iconic piarles moment - though this one is a whole less happy. i'm talking about styria 2021, aka that time pierre and charles had contact in a race, and pierre had to retire from that grand prix.

here is the official f1 news article about the incident - the long and the short of it is that charles misjudged on lap 1 and crashed into the side of pierre's car, ending pierre's race. naturally, pierre was furious and upset, especially because the alphatauri was actually a good car in 2021, and he'd stood to score really good points that sunday.

now, for most f1 girlies, an incident like this between childhood friends immediately brings up vivid brocedes flashbacks. and, to be honest, it wouldn't have been that much of a surprise if this had indeed soured pierre and charles' friendship - we saw exactly this happen with pierre and esteban, after all.

but no. charles went to see pierre post-race to clear the air between them, and although pierre was furious with him, he didn't let it ruin their friendship. in fact, when he was asked how the incident affected their friendship, pierre had the following to say:

"Yeah... I was really sad to end 15 years of friendship. He is no more my friend (laughs). No, no, it's... honestly, it was really painful, you know, you work so hard the whole weekend for Sunday to score points, and then after literally like 20 seconds, the whole race was over. So, quite a difficult one to swallow, but, you know, we know each other, with Charles, we have a lot of respect for each other. He came to see me after the race - I was still pretty pissed off with him, but, uh, we knew before last Sunday, nothing ever happened between us on the race-track, and we knew one day it would happen. Unfortunately I paid the price more than him, but yeah, it's racing, unfortunately. (...) It's painful, it's racing, it happens sometimes - I just told him to make sure it doesn't happen another time, and... we're fine." (source - watch from 17:01)

i think that styria 2021 is vital piarles lore not because it's a fun shippy moment, but rather because it shows the strength of their connection. an incident like this could easily have destroyed their friendship, but they didn't let it. they mean enough to each other that they let what happens on-track stay on-track and not affect their closeness off-track. and that, i think, is something truly special - they were tested in a way which has destroyed f1 friendships before, and yet they still came out stronger.

iconic indeed.

on a happier note again, now, there is also montreal 2022, which many piarles fans consider one of THE seminal piarles moments. the race itself was not so memorable for our boys this time, but what they did off-track is.

that is to say: pierre and charles went on a dinner date. then, they were spotted driving around the streets of montreal in a white ferrari. and THEN, as if that's not mind-blowing enough already... charles posted, to his public instagram story, a video of pierre wearing his charles-leclerc-16 branded ferrari hat.

these screenshots are peanut quality, i'm sorry, lmao... but all of montreal 2022 feels a bit like a fever dream in the best way, so i think the blurriness just captures the vibes, tbh.

we're not quite done with montreal 2022 yet, though - earlier on the same day, charles also had a very sweet hello with pierre's parents. you can just SEE how much pierre's parents love charles, and isn't that just the most heartwarming thing 😭❤️

now, one final thing about montreal 2022: pierre never posted his infamous photo dump after that race. that might not seem particularly important, but... this is the only race of 2022 for which pierre DIDN'T post a photo dump.

there are a thousand and one theories about why he didn't - maybe he just forgot, maybe he had a busy weekend, maybe he didn't have any photos he wanted to share. or, in a more shippy interpretation... maybe he does have photos, especially photos of charles, but he doesn't want to share them/wants to keep them all to himself. we don't know!

one lucky piarlie got to meet pierre in london in 2022 at an alphatauri event, and actually asked him about the montreal photo dump thing. here is what he said (courtesy of the lovely @they-call-it-traffic 💞)

the descriptions there... you can just picture pierre's expressions & smirks SO perfectly, right? he is insane. they are insane. #investigatemontreal !!

anyways. moving on one year again: 2023 brought us pierre and charles' basketball date:

as well as two tennis dates:

(i call them "dates" because pierre and charles spent a significant time together during them, hanging out & enjoying each other's company and looking at each other with major heart-eyes. obviously, irl, they aren't officially dates - in fact, both pierre and charles had their irl girlfriends along with them when they attended wimbledon. but who cares too much about irl -- this is a rpf post 😉)

i'm not going to spend too long explaining the lore behind these, because i'm already flirting with the tumblr post character limit 🙈 but basically, what happened is that on all 3 these occasions, pierre and charles chose to hang out together at events completely unrelated to f1, simply because they are friends and like each other's company. (that, to me, is always a measure of how much f1 drivers actually like each other - whether or not they choose to spend time with each other when they're not forced into proximity by f1. pierre and charles pass this test with flying colours.)

the basketball date is particularly insane, because that day was actually an event which charles, pierre and esteban attended. but you wouldn't know THAT from charles' post about it. charles fully cropped esteban out of his post - he really said "esteban who? i only spent time with my friend pierre 😌" and he said it with his whole chest.

ALSO, while we're on the subject of the basketball date and social media - pierre and charles co-posted a reel about it on instagram. yes. CO-POSTED. you know, like a couple co-posting about their date.

piarles basketball date, you will always be famous!!

(P.S. - a lot of piarles fans refer to this 2023 basketball date as "basketball date 2.0" - and this is because pierre and charles have actually done this before, in 2021. i really can't talk too much about that date - character limit, my beloathed - but let me just say that pierre draping his arm round the back of charles' chair is something that lives rent free in my mind. rent free.)

another thing that lives in my mind rent-free is charles being interviewed at their first tennis date, and calling pierre his best friend <3333 love is friendship set on fire, etc etc!

... so, okay, when i said i wasn't going to talk too much about the lore behind the tennis & basketball dates, i lied a little bit. but in my defence - they were insane for these, they really were!

anyways. now, let's skip back in time a little - because i would be very remiss if i didn't include pierre and charles' 2016 joint championship celebrations.

in the year 2016, pierre was the GP2 champion and charles the GP3 champion (GP2 and GP3 are the old names for F2 and F3). in a very pretty twist of fate, they both clinched their respective titles at the same circuit, in the final race of their respective series - and then, of course, they celebrated together.

here is an adorable gifset of them celebrating together after the final GP2 race. and here are some more pictures from the official Prema photoshoot for the GP2 & GP3 champions (yes, they did a joint photoshoot together. even Prema ships it, apparently!)

actually, while we're on the subject of celebrating together: pierre and charles almost always congratulate each other for their significant achievements in f1. see: charles making a point to congratulate pierre on his podium in baku, as i discussed earlier in this post, and again in zandvoort 2023. (both times with a kiss emoji, mind you). similarly, check out pierre seeking charles out in parc fermé to congratulate him for his bahrain 2022 season-opener pole, and then congratulating him for his win twice over on social media. (and these are just a few examples out of many!)

this is one of those things that sets them apart from many other f1 rpf pairings: they both seem genuinely happy when the other does well. and like. they are COMPETITORS - but they're good enough friends that they can still celebrate each other's achievements genuinely and happily. that is insane!!

yes, sure, it's good sportsmanship to congratulate other drivers for wins/podiums - but that is usually done with a handshake in person or a copy-paste "congrats to XYZ" in the post-race interview, or something like that. one rarely gets the sense that it comes from a place of genuine, deep happiness for the other driver being congratulated.

pierre and charles are just on a whole different level. they specifically seek each other out in parc fermé, hug each other with so much enthusiasm that it looks suspiciously gay, and also post about each other's achievements very fondly on social media.

again, this is something you might see a driver do for their teammate - for example, charles congratulating "carlos and the team" for a win in singapore - but almost never with a freaking KISS EMOJI. and a pet name. and so much genuine joy.

just... yeah. they care about each other so much, and are each other's biggest supporters ❤️

it's not just in good times that they're there for each other, either: 2019 was a truly difficult year for both pierre and charles (pierre especially) but they were still there for each other when it mattered.

the prime example of this is monza 2019, which was one race after pierre's demotion from red bull, and also one race after anthoine hubert's death. because the fia has no sense of basic kindness or decency, naturally they put pierre into a press conference that very weekend.

the video of that press conference is very hard to watch - every time pierre is asked a question, you can hear how much he is struggling to hold it together. honestly, the sole good thing from this presscon is that at least pierre had charles beside him.

here is a post i made where i discuss this in a bit more detail, but essentially: charles sat as close as possible to pierre for the entirety of that conference - close enough that their shoulders were practically touching - as a non-verbal gesture of support. you can see the difference in space between charles & pierre vs all the other drivers, and there's no way that was accidental. charles might not have been able to voice his support for pierre out loud right then, but it's there in every part of his body language.

another very meaningful moment is also from 2019, when pierre went up to charles pre-race in spa:

"I told Charles before the race, please win this race for Anthoine." (source)

and charles did. 💙

then later in 2019, when pierre got his first podium in brazil, guess who was right there to hug and congratulate him? that's right.

this was another case where charles' own race fell apart - he had a crash with his teammate, in fact - but he still made a point of going to hug pierre after his P2, and going on social media to tell pierre and also the whole world that pierre deserved that podium. that's what i call supporting your best friend.

now, at this point, you might be thinking... well, pierre and charles have it all. whether you're looking for happy moments or deep emotional moments or suspiciously gay moments to fuel your shipping fire, it's all there.

and you'd be right! they do have it all. though i will say this - one of the complaints i've heard whispered around this fandom is that piarles is a fun ship, but they don't have any content videos together like teammates do. so it's harder to ship them, because you don't get to see them actually interact with each other aside from like 5-second video clips...

to that i say: well. they might not have any teammate videos together, but oh boy. as of 2023, they do have something else: the squeezie video.

i could talk about the squeezie video for MONTHS, i really could - but let me try and keep it brief. so, squeezie is this french youtuber who has this "who's the impostor?" video series in which he gets a couple of celebrities to join him on the show, plus some people from a certain profession, and then they have to guess who actually does that profession and who's the impostor.

the day that pierre and charles were guests on the show, the professions were "firefighter," "midwife," "flight attendant" and "school counselor." this resulted in absolute chaos of the best kind - ah, man, i cannot even begin to describe to you what a glorious mess it was. that video had everything from charles & pierre cradling fake babies, to charles & pierre extremely dramatically accusing each other of lying, to pierre making dirty hand gestures while charles blushes profusely, to charles & pierre play-acting being naughty schoolkids (feat. charles saying he fell asleep in class and woke up from a nightmare screaming "box box" 😭)

here are some screenshots of some of my favourite moments:

the way they LOOK at each other... GOD.

anyways! you can watch the video here. my recommendation is to watch it with the original french sound track - there is an english dub available, but it sounds incredibly strange to hear american accents coming out of pierre & charles' mouths, off-sync with what they're actually saying. it's a MUCH better experience to watch in french, so you can hear what they actually said, and enjoy how they interact with each other. (english subtitles are available!) alternatively, you can find some translated highlights here, courtesy of the incredible @sedicii <3333

aside from all the still-can't-believe-they-actually-did-this-on-camera content, one of the things that makes me feel the most insane is that pierre and charles both chose to appear on this video. there was no contractual PR requirement saying they both had to participate in it, like with teammate challenges - no, they did it in their free time, because they wanted to.

i mean, sure, that video was definitely good for PR for both of them, but the point stands that they didn't have to do it, and they certainly didn't have to do it together. they CHOSE to - and what's more, they said at the end of the video that they'd do it again.

that's so central to pierre and charles, i think: they choose each other, time and time again. they freely choose to spend time with each other, because they genuinely like each other and enjoy each other's company. so much so that you will find them together at least once on almost every race weekend.

no, seriously. it's a very unusual race weekend if pierre and charles aren't spotted together at least one time. whether it's being glued to each other's sides on driver's parades, or chatting in the background of some or other interview, or just walking through the paddock together... they will find each other.

there are SO many instances where this happens that i would be here for over a month if i tried to list them all - and i'd still probably miss some. but here are some of my personal highlights!

pierre and charles finding each other pre-race in jeddah

pierre and charles chatting in the media pen in the background of one of alex's interviews

pierre and charles walking together in vegas (feat. fond smiles)

pierre and charles being baby gossip girls in 2018

more baby piarles in 2018

even more baby pierre and charles chatting in 2017

and just to round things off: most recently, pierre and charles walking together in jeddah 2024

and many, many more... including a whole bunch of moments we'll probably never know about.

that's another thing that makes me more than a little insane about these two: pierre has actually said, in so many words, that they'll never share everything about their friendship.

In the end we have the same life, we grew up together. We've done many things together, but you won't hear about all of it. (source)

all these moments that we see, that we go insane over... that's probably not even the half of what they've actually done together. and that makes me feel some type of way. if this is just the small pieces of their lives & interactions that they choose to share with the public, then just imagine what else there could be...

....buuuuut that'll start becoming a fanfic if i let myself carry on with that line of thinking too long. (can i just say one thing about that, though? the piarles fanfic community is absolutely INCREDIBLE. such talented writers, such wonderful people... just, chef's kiss all around!!) but, yeah! i think this post has gone on for more than long enough now, haha.

so, to conclude: pierre and charles really are the epitome of a friends to lovers ship: they get along famously, they genuinely seem to love each other's company and are always laughing together - and they can very often be found giving each other the heart-eyes/looking at each other like they're in love. if it's warmth, joy and friends to lovers feels that you're after, then look no further <3333

thank you so much for reading! and i do hope that after all this, you're at least a little bit in love with piarles, too ❤️

#piarles #pierre/charles #10 x 16 #1016 #❤️💙#otp of all otps!#and this is why ❤️#.... this is SO long oh my word #i... am so sorry?#but also not sorry at all #i am completely insane about them <3 #and i always will be!!

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holllandtrash · 2 years

Text

for the better | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 6 to better left unsaid (the better series)

you never planned on finding yourself caught between two drivers and you certainly never thought that you'd have to make a choice, but your options aren't lando or pierre...it's them or you

word count: 5.6k tags: bro its just pure raw angst, max is the only real one and i apologize in advance

It was unnerving how quiet Pierre was the rest of the time you were in the paddock. And he was only quiet towards you. He interacted and spoke with everyone who stopped him and acted as though nothing happened. If you were standing near him, he would still be holding your hand or touching your back, putting on the charade that he hadn’t just caught you leaving the McLaren motorhome in tears.

You couldn’t tell what he was feeling towards you. Was he upset? Disappointed? Frustrated? It was impossible to get a read on him.

Even at the end of the day when you were finally leaving the paddock, Pierre held the passenger door of his car open for you to climb in. You flinched when he shut it harder than required, but maybe you were reading into it too much because you wanted to. You needed something from him.

You would have preferred if he had said something, then you could get an idea as to what was going through his mind based on his tone. But for the first ten minutes of the car ride, Pierre kept his mouth shut.

But he also didn’t reach over the centre console to hold your leg like he had every other time you got into his car. Maybe that was an indication as to what he felt.

It didn’t help that you were still wearing Lando’s sweater. You didn’t have a choice though, it was the only thing that could cover up the mark on your neck. And you knew Pierre wasn’t an idiot, he probably figured out where the jumper came from seeing as you didn’t get it directly from him.

You rested your arm against the inside frame of the car and dropped your chin to your hand, trying to think of what you could possibly say or do that would make things easier right now because this unspoken, heavy tension was eating you alive.

“Can you just say something?” You turned your head to face him. Pierre kept his eyes on the road. He didn’t even glance your way or make any sort of hint that he heard you, which you knew he did.

You continued to stare at him, anticipating what would come out of his mouth, but you didn’t expect to see his grip tighten on the steering wheel. At least that helped you understand him a bit better. He certainly wasn’t happy.

After what felt like an eternity of holding your breath, Pierre shifted against the seat and licked his lips, “What did you want me to say?”

You hadn’t actually thought about that.

You were the one who made the mistake and while you hadn’t been given the chance to explain yourself yet, Pierre hadn’t asked what happened. Either he didn’t want to know or he already had a fairly good idea and didn't want to talk about it.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, looking out the window again. There was still another thirty minutes until we were back at his place, maybe you should have just waited but you had already opened your mouth so there was no going back now. “I shouldn’t have left Alpine.”

“I agree,” Pierre nodded once but didn’t add anything to that point, leaving you to keep this conversation going.

“He was upset after qualifying I just thought-” were you really trying to defend yourself right now? You switched directions, “My intentions were good, Pierre. I only wanted to check in on him and make sure he was okay.”

Pierre nodded again. Did he get where you were coming from or was this just another attempt to remind you that he didn’t want to talk?

It wasn’t working, clearly.

You were desperate now, “Pierre, I need you to say something.”

“And I needed you to not lie to me,” Pierre spoke so casually, you almost missed the underlying betrayal in his tone. You almost missed the pain in his voice as he called you out.

But you didn't follow, “When did I lie?”

He finally turned his head towards you. Only for a few seconds, but you saw it out of the corner of your eye before he turned back to the road, “When you told me that you wanted me.”

“That wasn’t a lie.”

“Well you can’t have both of us, chérie,” he said, as if that was going to solve all of your problems. “I want to make this work, but I shouldn’t have to fight for your attention.”

And you wanted to give Pierre all of you. You didn’t want to be holding onto Lando anymore, but there was history with him. Years of friendship that was nearly impossible to move on from, even if you thought you could.

“I made a mistake,” you admitted. Again, Pierre nodded. He wouldn’t fight you on that one.

He actually wouldn’t fight with you at all for the rest of the car ride. You gave up on your attempts to have a conversation and decided that it would be best to try again when you got back to the house.

Which meant the rest of the drive was filled with deafening silence. There wasn’t even any music. Just the two of you sitting quietly, waiting with dread for what was to come next.

It was easier to turn your phone off than try to navigate through any notifications. Fans were throwing out their assumptions left and right, especially since photos immediately surfaced of you leaving McLaren.

But they had no idea what happened. You were still trying to figure it out.

Pierre pulled into his driveway and grabbed his bag from the backseat. You followed him towards the door, but even when you stepped inside, he still didn’t initiate any type of conversation. He just tossed his bag down and headed towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

You leaned against the island counter and watched his actions, waiting to see if he would in fact say something.

He took a few sips and leaned against the fridge, watching you as well.

More specifically, he was eyeing up the black jumper you still had on.

Pierre finally opened his mouth, “Do I want to know why you’re wearing that?”

With your arms resting on the counter, you glanced down at your hands as if your nail beds were the most interesting things in the world, “Probably not.”

Pierre took another long sip of water. His glass echoed when he placed down on the surface next to him. You held your breath as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Take it off.”

Your head snapped up, “What?”

“Take the sweater off.”

“Pierre, I-”

“Knowing Lando, he’s probably childish enough to leave some sort of hickey in plain sight,” his eyes dropped to your neck and you involuntarily reached for the collar of the sweater, tugging it up higher. “Just take the jumper off, chérie, let’s see what sort of mark he left on you.”

You froze, unsure if Pierre was just messing with you or not. He seemed so…unbothered? Like whatever move Lando made didn’t mean anything in the long run.

You grabbed the hem of the jumper and slowly peeled it off your body, letting it fall to the ground next to you. Not that it mattered, but you ran your fingers through your hair to smooth it out as you tried not to pay attention to the way Pierre’s gaze focused in on the dark purple bruise.

You couldn’t bring yourself to move as Pierre pushed himself away from the counter. He walked around the island and came to a stop in front of you, grabbing your waist with one hand and pulling you to face him. With his other hand, he gently pushed your hair out of the way, letting it fall down your back.

His touch was so careful as he tilted your chin upwards, his fingers barely grazing your skin as they trailed down your jaw and stopping just below your ear, right where the mark was.

You swallowed as he brushed his thumb over it.

You sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers found a home on the other side of your throat. He didn’t apply any pressure. He could have, but he just left his hand there, reminding you that you didn’t have any control in this conversation right now. You gave up any bit of control the second you left to talk to Lando.

Pierre raised his eyebrows, “Just the one?”

You nodded and he titled your head the slightest bit. His gaze narrowed in on it. You had no idea what was going through his mind. Was he thinking about how you ended up in a position where Lando was able to attach his lips to your neck? Was he wondering how much time you spent with the British driver?

“He’s immature,” Pierre said. “And I don’t like sharing either, chérie, but if you needed a reminder as to who you belonged to, there are other ways.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” this was the most confident you’ve sounded all day. But if there was one thing you would stand behind, it was the fact that neither of these men had the audacity to claim you.

“No?”

“No,” you were firm. “And weren’t you the one who said I wasn’t a trophy?”

Pierre hummed, but he disregarded your words, his words. “So you don’t belong to Lando?”

“No.”

“And you’re not mine either?”

“I-” your voice caught in your throat. He seemed to like that you were speechless because the corner of lips turned upwards into a smirk.

You wanted to be with Pierre, you knew that much. You wanted to be done with Lando.

“Oh I get it,” Pierre’s hand on your waist slipped, his fingers pressed against your skin and pulled you closer against his body. He dropped his face and hovered his lips right above yours. “You want to be mine, don’t you? But you’re worried that this-” he applied the smallest bit of pressure to the hickey, “-has messed things up for us?”

You nodded because there was no damn way you could say anything anymore. Not as he held your body so tight against his that you could feel his cock being restricted by his trousers. He slid a knee between your legs, spreading them slightly and you relied on the counter behind you for support, knowing your knees could give out at any second.

It was almost impressive how quick this conversation had taken a turn. You were expecting Pierre to lose his temper on you or tell you to get out of his house. You hadn’t expected him to flip a sudden switch and be eyeing you up as if he was about to destroy you.

When Pierre’s phone started to ring from his back pocket, you could see it in his eyes that he just debated letting it go to voicemail.

But he released his hand from your neck and stepped away from you. He barely gave you a second look before answering the phone call and stepping away into a different room.

You felt frozen against the island counter, feeling your heartbeat creep up your throat until it felt like you were going to vomit. You still weren’t sure how Pierre felt about the situation you two found yourselves in but it was safe to say he didn’t want you spending any more time with Lando.

Eventually you shuffled away from the kitchen and curled up into the corner of the couch. You could hear Pierre’s muffled voice from down the hall, but when the sound of a door shutting echoed through the house after a few minutes, you let yourself relax.

You had a bit of time to think things over for yourself, not in the presence of Pierre.

Part of you was worried that it would always be like this. You’d put the effort in with Pierre, or anyone, and then Lando would show up out of nowhere and remind you that you still love him. Unless you made the decision to permanently rid your life of one of your oldest friends, you risked him always ruining your chance at happiness with someone else.

But how were you supposed to do that? How were you supposed to throw away years and years of friendship? You’d lose Max. You’d lose his family. You’d lose so much of your life that he was connected to.

Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted his jumper balled up on the floor.

You had so much of his stuff at your house. So many of his t-shirts, jumpers, miscellaneous items that he just left over time. Lando infiltrated so many parts of your life and even just thinking about starting over without him was difficult.

And what about if you were to continue this relationship with Pierre? He’d want you to come to the races and other events where you’d have to see Lando. He would be impossible to avoid.

If he was going to keep popping up, you’d never move on.

You looked down the hall. The door to the room Pierre was in was still closed. You had no idea how long he’d be on the phone, but maybe that was for the best. What were you supposed to say to him anyway? ‘I do want to be with you but I’m worried that I’ll always love Lando’ ? That wasn’t a conversation he’d want to have, especially during a race weekend.

So you opted for no conversation.

You slid off the couch and quietly made your way down the hall towards the master bedroom. All of your items were in there, your clothes, makeup, skincare. It wouldn’t take you long to pack it all up seeing as this was only supposed to be a weekend trip anyway.

You found your duffle bag and started to throw all of your belongings in, making sure your wallet and passport stayed out. You already had a flight voucher to go home, it would be easy enough to book a seat when you arrived at the airport.

You paused.

Was this really what you were doing? Going home?

It was the easiest choice, there was no arguing that. No matter what, this was going to be complicated and messy and as much as you didn’t want to leave Pierre, staying with him for the rest of the race weekend was undoubtedly going to lead to more chaos.

So yes, you were going home.

You stepped into the ensuite and scooped up the travel sized containers of skin care you had brought. While you were looking at them to make sure you weren’t missing anything, you had completely missed Pierre walking down the hall towards you.

He leaned against the doorframe, eyes landing on your half packed bag before watching you trying to carefully tetris everything in your hand to fit. Pierre crossed his arms over his chest, not saying anything as to not interrupt you.

You made up your mind, you were leaving. Pierre wasn’t going to stand in your way.

When you looked up from your bag, you flinched and clasped your hand to your chest, startled to see Pierre just standing there.

He didn’t ask for an explanation. He didn’t need one, but you felt the need to give him one anyway.

“It’s not-” It’s not you, it’s me? Try again. You swallowed, “I really do like you, Pierre, please don’t think that I don't.”

“You packing your bag tells me otherwise,” he nodded his head towards the edge of the bed where all of your stuff was.

“No it’s not-” you shook your head. Why was this so hard to explain? “It’s not fair to you. None of this is fair. This isn’t how it should be.”

Pierre knew what you meant. Being with someone should be easy, it should be you and them against the world. You weren’t even dating Pierre and already you could feel the weight of all of the external factors crashing in on you.

It was suffocating.

You turned away from him to finish packing, ignoring the way his heavy sigh filled the room.

“Pierre, you should be with someone who can give you everything. There shouldn’t be any doubts, you should be able to trust them with your heart.” You kept your back towards him and spoke just loud enough for him to hear you. Your chest tightened when you heard his footsteps start to approach you slowly. “And that's- that’s not me. I can’t give you that, not when-”

You felt his chest press against your back. Pierre slid his arms around your waist and gently pulled you against him, dropping his chin to press a kiss to your shoulder. He swayed the two of your back and forth slowly and you wished that was enough for you to no longer have any concerns.

You inhaled a quiet breath, resting your hands overtop of his, “I don’t want you to feel like this is a competition but until I’m completely over him, it always will be.”

His stubble against your skin sent a shiver through your body as he nodded, understanding what you were trying to say. But he still didn’t let go.

“Pierre-”

“Shh,” he squeezed you a bit tighter, kissing your exposed skin once more. “Let me have this, Y/N. I don’t know when I’ll get it again.”

God that broke you.

You felt so comfortable in his arms. Your body melted against his perfectly, like they were made to fit with each other.

So you let yourself have this last moment with him, both knowing that it wasn’t going to last. The second he let go, you’d finish packing and be out the door. Away from him, away from Lando and away from this mess you didn’t mean to find yourself in.

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, raising one of your hands to rest against the side of his cheek. Pierre turned his face and kissed the inside of your palm which only resulted in your heart sinking further into your chest.

“You know what the worst part of this is?” You whispered. Pierre softly chuckled in response, probably because he could think of about ten things that could be at the top of that list, but he didn’t try to ponder a guess as to what was running through your head.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, saying it in a way as though he was wanting to take whatever burden you were feeling and put it on his shoulders instead. You didn’t deserve this man.

He had spent weeks after countless weeks becoming your friend, earning your trust and respect. He learned all the ways to make you laugh, how to bring a smile to your face. He wanted to familiarise himself with you and every aspect of your life before stepping into a bigger role.

And the second he had, you ruined it by running right back to Lando.

Pierre kissed the side of your head, encouraging you to finish your thought.

You turned in his arms, placing both of your hands at the back of his neck. Playing with the loose strands of his hair didn’t help, neither did having his bright blue eyes staring right through you, but you had to say this face to face. You needed him to know that whatever you had, however brief, however sudden, was real.

And it wasn’t his fault it wouldn’t last.

You stared at his face, trying to memorise every last detail before your lips parted, a soft exhale escaping. Pierre watched as your tongue poked out to wet your lips and waited, his arms not moving from around your waist, until you painfully admitted what the worst part of all of this was.

“I really think I could have fallen in love with you.”

There were a few hours until the race started. Lando was walking down the paddock with Max at his side after just having changed into a McLaren polo tee. He had a good morning, or at least that’s what it seemed like to everyone he passed. He wore a bright smile on his face, he was chatty, he was ready for the race.

And he wished the race was the only thing on his mind, it should have been, but every time he caught a glimpse of a girl who looked remotely like you, Lando lost his train of thought. He was using every excuse in the book to leave the McLaren motorhome, just on the off chance he’d see you somewhere in the paddock.

Max caught on pretty quickly, and he tried to remind Lando that you asked for space, but Lando didn’t want to listen. He wanted to find you, talk to you, remind you why you belonged in his life.

“She hasn’t posted anything,” Lando pointed out after looking at your social media pages for the tenth time since waking up this morning. “Usually she posts when she's at a race, why hasn’t she posted anything?”

“Why do you care?” Max rolled his eyes, pulling out his own phone because curiosity got the better of him too. Lando was right, you hadn’t posted anything.

Lando didn’t answer, mostly because he didn’t have a good enough answer. Nothing that would explain why he wanted you here, now, when he knew that if you were here, it would be for Pierre.

“Does she-” Lando felt like an idiot as the thought crossed his mind, but he stopped walking. So did Max and his friend looked at him with his eyebrows raised, wondering what ridiculous question would leave his mouth next. “Does she still share her location with you?”

Max groaned, “Mate, come on.” This was crossing a line. The shared location feature on iPhones wasn’t something to be taken advantage of. It was in case anything happened during a night out, or when one of you got into the back of an uber. It wasn’t so Lando could keep tabs on you.

“She stopped sharing it with me!” Lando explained, as if that made up for wanting Max to check for himself.

“I’m not getting involved.”

“It takes two seconds to check.”

Max slid his phone into his back pocket and held his hands up in defence of his choices, “Why’s it matter? If she’s here, it’s for Pierre.”

“But if she’s not.”

“I think the important takeaway from this is that wherever she is, she’s not with you.”

“Well no shit.”

“No,” Max needed to get the point across more directly. “She’s not in the paddock with you. She’s not watching the race for you. She didn’t tell you where she is and she stopped sharing her location because you don’t need to know, Lando. Y/N said she needed space and you bending over backwards right now, trying to figure out where she is, is not giving her space.”

A young fan wearing a papaya shirt ran up to Lando right as Max ended his speech. He watched as Lando plastered a smile on his face and bent down to the fans level to sign the back of his shirt and answer a few questions, but Max knew that he was only putting on an act.

Lando did love his fans, but he lost you as his biggest supporter. He could sign a thousand autographs and thank hundreds of people for showing up, but at the end of the day, you weren’t there for him.

When Lando stood up again, Max patted him on the back as a type of consolidation.

They walked further down the paddock and if Lando was being honest, he was looking for a way to bring you up in conversation again, but luckily for him, Max was also thinking about you. More specifically, this fucked up situation his two friends were in.

“Why didn’t you do anything earlier?” Max asked, noticing how Lando’s features tensed as soon as he was called out. “I just don’t understand, is all. You waited until Pierre showed interest before doing anything. It was kind of a dick move.”

Lando shrugged his shoulders, earning a smack upside the head from his friend. If he was so adamant on figuring out where you were, the least he could do was explain where the sudden interest came from.

“I don’t know!” Lando exclaimed, shoulders raised nearly to his ears. “I just- I don’t know, Max. I don’t like seeing her with Pierre.”

“Pierre makes her happy.”

“She was happy enough before him.”

Max rolled his eyes. That was such a shitty response. And Lando realised it as soon as the words left his mouth. He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“She waited for you, Lando,” Max said. He wasn’t trying to hurt his friend, he just needed Lando to know how much he had hurt you. “She waited, got tired of waiting, you missed your shot and now you need to live with that.”

That didn’t sit well with Lando, “But what if she’s supposed to be it for me? What if she’s the right person and I just didn’t see it until now?”

“I think that you asking these questions proves that she isn’t the right person.”

That stung, but Max had a point. There shouldn’t have been any doubt. If Lando loved you the way you once wanted him to, truly loved you, he wouldn’t have taken so long to show it. It shouldn’t have taken him seeing you with Pierre for him to realise his own feelings.

Because that wasn’t love. That was the fear of losing you masked as desire.

Max cleared his throat, “Twelve ‘o’ clock.”

Lando, stupidly, looked at his watch, “It’s half past one.”

“No you idiot,” Max huffed under his breath. “Pierre, headed our way.”

Sure enough, Pierre was walking right in their direction. A pair of black sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose, but it did little to hide his expression. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his jaw was locked, even his hand seemed to have an unusually hard grip around his phone.

Lando hadn’t even noticed he stopped walking until Pierre was right in front of him.

What was Pierre going to do? Hit him? He wouldn’t cause a scene in the paddock. If he had an issue with Lando, they’d deal with it privately.

But that didn’t mean Pierre was just going to walk by without saying anything.

Max looked between the two drivers and as soon as Lando opened his mouth, Max was already shaking his head, wondering why he had to be the one to speak first.

“You alright?” Lando’s greeting was polite, both men smiled at each other. It was forced, but it was a smile nonetheless and anyone who walked by wouldn’t think twice of it.

“She’s not here, mate.” Pierre told him, knowing that’s what was on Lando’s mind. Pierre had seen Lando’s wandering eyes when he spotted him, curious to know if you were nearby.

“Who?” Lando played dumb. Max, who had already had enough of his childish behaviour, muttered something under his breath about him needing to grow up before stalking off down the paddock, leaving Lando without any back up. Not like he’d provide it anyway.

Pierre chuckled, running his tongue along his teeth, “I was going to tell why she’s not here but if you can’t be bothered to even remember her name then I don’t need to waste my time.”

Pierre wasn’t going to let Lando get to him. Not on the track, not in the paddock, not in his head. Since day one, Pierre had seen the treatment Lando had given you and he wasn’t going to put up with it on your behalf.

He started to walk past him, accidentally, or maybe not so accidentally, bumping his shoulder into Lando’s as he passed. Lando glanced at the contact and then craned his neck to watch Pierre walk away.

He should have let Pierre keep walking.

But Lando just didn’t know when to quit.

“So where is she?” Lando asked. Pierre came to a halt. Lando wouldn’t have been shocked if Pierre ignored him completely, but when he turned around and walked back, Lando stood up a bit straighter, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin.

Pierre eyed him up, even with the sunglasses on, Lando could see the disapproval.

“She went home, Lando.”

But the weekend wasn’t even over. You left without saying anything to him?

Lando tried not to let that thought bother him. You were allowed to leave without a goodbye, you didn’t owe him anything. “Home?”

“Last night,” Pierre nodded. “Didn’t even let me drive her to the airport. She took an uber.”

Not saying goodbye to him was one thing, but Lando couldn’t understand why you didn’t want to say anything to Pierre either.

“So you-” he didn’t even know what to ask. “You two…it’s- you guys are done?”

Pierre’s jaw tightened, “It appears so.”

“Because of yesterday?”

Pierre laughed. He actually laughed at Lando’s idea that a childish hickey was what ended things.

“Because she’s still in love with you,” Pierre said, because Lando didn’t have the ability to come to this conclusion on his own. “She doesn’t want to be, but she is. And until she gets over your self-absorbed ass, she figures it’s better to be alone.”

Lando should have been overjoyed at this news. You loved him. That’s what he wanted. He didn’t want you with anyone else.

But you were gone. Pierre was right, you didn’t want to love him. You didn’t leave Pierre and go straight to Lando, you went home. You wanted to put distance between yourself and him, you were ready to put him behind you.

Pierre could see the gears grinding in Lando’s head. He could tell he was already thinking about ways to reach out to you after the race, how long a flight to London would take. Pierre pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them into his shirt, shaking his head at the younger driver.

“You don’t love her,” Pierre stated. It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. One that Lando wanted to ignore. One that you had hurt you time and time again.

“I could.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” the Frenchman stepped closer. “You should have realised how important she was earlier. You had every opportunity to love her, to cherish her, to be the man she wanted you to be and you did nothing. In fact, you waited until she was starting to move on to finally do something and even then, Lando, you still didn’t love her.”

It was easier to pretend that everything Pierre was saying was for his own benefit, but Lando couldn’t disregard the painful truth behind his words.

“You don’t know the type of relationship we have,” Lando tried to argue. “She’s my best friend. I know what’s good for her, what she needs-”

Pierre instantly cut him off, “What she needs is for you to let her go.”

“Why?” Lando scoffed. “So you can swoop in? Save the day?”

“I already tried that,” Pierre chuckled, but his laugh was bitter and cold. Nothing about this was funny. “Or did you already forget about the night at the club?”

Lando stayed quiet. If he could do anything, it would be to go back in time and redo that entire night.

“But here’s the thing,” Pierre started off, his gaze not dropping from Lando. “Y/n doesn’t need saving so the fact that you think she does says a lot.”

He shook his head. This conversation was coming to a close and Lando had contributed nothing beneficial to it.

“Just do her a favour and let her move on,” Pierre’s tone wasn’t demanding, but Lando could tell there wasn’t room to counter his words. “Stop giving her false hope, stop getting in the way, stop making her think the only role in her life that matters is yours. The only person she should be worrying about is herself and for years you’ve been too selfish to let that happen. Let. Her. Go.”

Pierre slid his sunglasses back on his face and turned around, not giving Lando the chance to get the last word in.

Lando couldn’t understand how Pierre was so unphased by your decision to leave before the race. He couldn’t comprehend how Pierre could let you leave so easily without so much as a fight.

But that was the difference between the two drivers. Pierre was right, Lando had always been selfish whereas Pierre knew the only option was to let you go. If one day you wanted to return to one of them, that would be your choice to make.

The only question now was would that day ever come? Or would Lando be left wondering about the what-if’s for a change? Would Pierre be left debating if he made the right choice by not trying to change your mind?

Whether you meant to or not, you had an impact on both of their lives. Pierre’s was sudden and fast and you were gone just as quick as you arrived. But you were there long enough for it to now feel wrong that you weren’t.

And Lando didn’t appreciate what he had until it was too late. You were a constant in his life and in the blink of an eye, he lost you. He knew how important you were, how amazing you were and he let you slip right through his fingers.

They both had to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t theirs. You might never be.

part 7 here read all parts here

#pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly #pierre gasly social media au #lando norris one shot #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris au #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 requests #f1 one shot #f1 #f1 social media au #holllandtrash

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visionofvoid · 1 year

Text

Messy Bed Sheets - PG10

Summary: “rule number four.”

Warnings: suggested and implied sex, implied female and male oral, implied p in v, protected sexW

Pairings: pierre gasly x oc

Word Count: 1205

PART TWO PART THREE

Before it began, they laid out some ground rules;

No soliciting the night before a race day, unless Pierre explicitly asks for it;

Pierre was in charge of making all the arrangements due to his busy schedule;

Pierre was to ignore all contact from Serena when it was her cycle, and finally;

Don’t fall in love

It seemed easy enough to follow.

Serena recalled matching with Pierre on Tinder, she remembered thinking it was just another crypto king traveling the world that enjoyed race cars but she never imagined he would actually be a racecar driver with millions of fans. Pierre enjoyed the fact that Serena never really cared for Pierre Gasly, but instead enjoyed the late night conversations and the hushed breaths and moans on expensive silk bedding in hotels all over the world. He knew he was going above and beyond, paying for her to travel across Europe for a night or two, but he didn’t mind if it meant an expensive dinner and night in with $1000 wine with a beautiful girl that wanted nothing more than to earn her degree and just live.

Pierre’s head rested on the soft pillows, his back slighting sitting up whilst he played aimlessly with Serena’s hair. The two both had a sweaty sheen on them, the bed sheets covering their naked bodies, though his chest was on full display. The past few months the two had explored all their fantasies, kinks and each other’s bodies. You could say they are quite in tune with one another on a more intimate level.

“Something on your mind?” Serena questioned, turning her head slightly to rest on her hand that lay flat on Pierre’s exposed chest. Usually Pierre would clean up after they just had sex and the two would cuddle all the way into the night until Serena had to get ready and head home the next day, however the atmosphere felt significantly different this time. Something had changed. Serena watched Pierre’s cheekbones harden slightly, knowing that he was having an internal battle with himself. “Pierre, you can tell me.” Her fingers moved slightly, the movement warming up Pierre internally.

“That was the last time.” He mumbled, looking everywhere but at Serena directly. He was always incredible at eye contact, something that Serena had only just started getting comfortable with. He saw from his peripheral the confusion on her face. This arrangement was good, and she genuinely cared. Just perhaps not in the way that Pierre wished for her to. “This, whatever this is, it ends tonight.” He reaffirmed, again keeping his gaze from Serena.

“Can you tell me why?” Serena questioned. She could tell he was avoiding her face so she resorted to pulling back from him, wanting to give him space and ensure he was comfortable. If he was calling off the arrangement, she could only think of a handful of reasons why. The main reason was that he met someone else. Serena always knew that this was strictly a friends with benefits situation and despite the feelings she had developed for him over time, she valued his friendship more than anything to ruin it by speaking up, plus the sex was amazing. How often did you get amazing sex and a man that genuinely cared about female pleasure?

“I just- this ends tonight.” Pierre sighed, finally looking at Serena, catching her eyes staring up at his. He recalled the first time he saw them staring up at him, filled with absolute ecstasy, rolling into the back of her head as he glanced up from his position near her core just months prior, before the arrangement began.

“Pierre, please. You can tell me anything.” Serena reassured, moving herself to match his position in the bed, one arm awkwardly nudging her way onto the pillow and the other holding onto the sheet to give her some discretion though it wasn’t like Pierre was a stranger to her naked body. Once again he refused to look at her, actually look at her and give his full undivided attention.

The silence lasted a few more minutes, the air growing colder as they both started to breathe a little normally. Serena decided to stop pestering Pierre, no matter how nosy she was and how much she wanted to try and convince Pierre that it was a safe space. He obviously didn’t want to talk and she wouldn’t push that. She pushed herself to the side of the bed, letting the sheet fall where she once lay. She swung her legs over the side of the plus mattress, bending down to pick up her unmatching bra and panties.

“What are you doing?” Pierre questioned as she put on her bra expertly, something he was always so fascinated by.

“I’ll go to sleep in the other room.” Serena grabbed her baggy shirt, throwing it over her chubby torso and turned to quickly look at him. “You said that was the last time. I’ll be gone in the morning.” The air was much different now. What was once a warm atmosphere with a hint of musk and champagne in the air was now cold and the scent of stale sex lingered. The atmosphere had changed between the two within minutes. Serena knew herself and knew that if she tried to convince Pierre to keep up with the arrangement that she would blurt out her feelings.

Pierre was lost for words. He wasn’t too sure how to go about it, about his feelings. He was certain that this was just sex and an obligation of talking with Serena. He was certain that he was also falling for Serena. He knew that if he kept up with the arrangements he would only be damaging his feelings more than anything else.

The bed was big enough to sleep the two of them, even with space in between so they didn’t have to touch one another, it would be like your own bed. Pierre wanted to protest, he wanted to argue with Serena and beg for her to come back, that he was just joking. But instead he pushed his feelings aside and watched as she gathered her phone and handbag. How was it that she looked absolutely gorgeous in just a baggy shirt? Her hair knotted as it pooled down the back of the shirt, the middle of the shirt getting caught between her bra and skin, her thighs peeking out from the hem. She was the epitome of beauty.

Serena opened the door leading into the conjoined room that Pierre always booked out of respect in case she wanted her own space and paused when she heard Pierre mumble. She stopped for a moment, her head turning slightly in the hopes he would repeat himself a little louder this time. When he finally did and her mind processed it, she was shocked. There was no way he could have known.

Pierre took the pause and then eventual disappearance into the other room as evidence enough that his feelings were one sided.

“Rule number four.”

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x oc #pierre gasly smut #formula one smut #formula 1 fanfic #formula one facfic #formular one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smut

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alwaysonf1 · 7 months

Text

finally?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning: Language

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

Though the plans were made in advance for security reasons Charles found himself not wanting to go out to the club that Carlos and a few of the other pilots chose. He was feeling down despite the recent podium and wanted nothing more than to just sit in his hotel room until it was time for his flight the following day.

But Pierre had demanded that he get off his ass and get to the club. Kika was in the background saying things of a similar nature, though it was much nicer than the Frenchman said it. Charles wanted to tell him to fuck off, but wallowing in his room wasn’t the way he wanted to leave off a relatively good week. That wasn’t who he was. He kept pushing even when he’s at his limit.

Something that seemed silly when it was being applied to partying and not his job or some more important life matter.

It’s why he was sitting in their little elevated VIP section watching the crowd. It was still early in the night, so most of those who’d pledged to show up were still there away from the general public. Everyone would trickle out and let others in as the night went on, but it was agreed that to start they always wanted to keep everything as chill as possible.

Except Charles doesn’t feel chill. He knew Iman would be there, but it wasn’t until she greeted him with a hug that it really sank in. Or more specifically, it wasn’t until then that he addressed the small fraction of him that was down because of a realization about his feelings.

Charles can be a bit dense sometimes, but he’s no longer playing, oblivious to his feelings. And that includes the one that fills him the moment he saw her. He wanted to monopolize her time. Flirt with her in a way that was much more blatant than usual. Get her to dance with him. Kiss her.

That last one is why he finds himself glued to his seat.

On more than one occasion he’s been face to face with Iman - her height only being a little more than an inch under his - and gotten caught up in how soft her lips look. How he wants to know how they would feel if he gave into the urge and kissed her. But Charles was in deep denial then, so it was easy to lie to himself and combat those feelings. Now he was open to them and feeling like a schoolboy with a crush.

He wasn’t sure how to approach Iman on the subject. Pierre laughed in his face when he gave the option of sitting down and having a talk with her about it. While the Frenchman did concede that an adult discussion would be a good idea, he thought Charles was being too clinical. He didn’t need to drown it in romance, but there did need to be something more than just revealing it like they were in a meeting. Carlos, Max, and every other driver he asked agreed with Pierre.

Max suggested talking to Lewis or Logan, but that just added to the schoolboy feelings. He was nervous and also a little afraid of their response. Which was equally as silly when he realized how much they were for him and Iman once the haze of his own avoidance lifted. The two of them were doing a lot of the heavy lifting with trying to get either of them to see the light, but both were stubborn.

Well, no. Charles was stubborn. Iman was just dealing with a man who was in relationships with others.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Do not tell me you are a light weight now?” Pierre asks as he sits beside him.

“I’ve barely had this drink.”

“Ah, so you still haven’t said anything. Must I do it for you?”

There’s a playful expression on Pierre’s face and Charles knows that he’d never do that to him, but he still levels him with a glare. All that does is cause the Frenchman to laugh and Charles is tired of his laughter. He feels like a mess, and no one is helping him out. Well, they are, but not in the way he needs. There feels like there is no answer.

And he feels like a child. Incapable of communicating his feelings when it should be so easy to say or do so when he has the words in his arsenal. His previous relationships alone should be the perfect insight on how to handle things, but even that doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel good enough for Iman. Another thing that’s driving him up the wall because he believes all his ex-girlfriends were treated with such care when approaching the subject and yet he knows that isn’t the truth. Not even the reality of the other, outside, reasons for his hesitation are enough to not feel a little bad about that.

In his small spiral he’s tuned Pierre out and a slap to the arm brings his attention back to the Frenchman, who is rolling his eyes at him. Even Kika looks a little disappointed in him and that does not help Charles with his current turmoil at all.

“All this not listening, tsk. If you paid attention, you’d know what needs to be done,” Pierre says.

“I…”

Before he can even begin to defend himself or tell his friend that all the advice everyone has given is bad, Kika has pulled him off the couch and they abandon Charles for the other side of their VIP area.

A huff escapes him, and he takes a sip from his glass, debating if he should drink the whole thing and order another. Or multiple. He knows doing that isn’t wise of him though, he might just blurt out what he wants to say and that feels even worse than all the floundering he’s doing to find the right thing to say. He can’t handle the level of embarrassment that such a thing will bring.

As if he isn’t already embarrassed since almost everyone on the grid has something to say on the matter and sees how much of a mess he is about the situation. Zhou even told him to get it together, in much nicer language than that.

Another sip, another sigh.

Then the bench he’s sitting on shifts. Charles turns his head and sees Lewis. In an instant his heart begins to race. And it’s not helped by Lewis not even glancing in his direction.

“Just do it,” Lewis says.

“What?”

“Talk to her.”

“I don’t…”

Lewis levels him with a look that shuts him up. He knows that there was an excuse about to come out of his mouth and that Lewis knows it too. Charles promised himself he’d stop talking himself out of reaching out to Iman in the way that he wants. And while at a club where she’s the slightest bit tipsy - and so is he - isn’t where he imagined if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll keep putting off not doing it. And then she may no longer be available.

That last thought comes in as he notices a group of men hyping up one of them and pointing in her direction. They’re all trying to be subtle, but every time she glances in their direction it’s so obvious, they were looking with the way they try to appear like they weren’t.

The one who clearly was the chosen one to talk to her squared his shoulders and took a breath. Charles is out of his seat and by Iman’s side in an instant. His fingers caressed her arm until they took hold of her elbow. The grip was gentle and didn’t showcase any of the jealousy he feels. At least he hopes it doesn’t.

Iman turns to him and though she’s smiling as she does, it brightens when she looks at him. Charles is sure he forgets how to think for a second and his own bright smile forms.

“Hi,” she says.

There’s an excitement to it as if she hadn’t seen him at all tonight.

“Hi.”

Inside Charles' head there is a repeated chant to keep calm. Maintain a coolness that he’s usually very sure he has, but not at this moment.

“Finally want to have some fun, Sharl? I thought you were going to sit there all night like some stuffy old man with his precious bourbon.”

“I am not stuffy. Or old.”

She pulls a face that further offends him, but not so much that he doesn’t remark on how beautiful she looks even now.

“You sure?”

Charles scoffs. “Dance with me.”

“What?” she sputters.

“Dance with me. Come on the floor and dance with me. I will show you how I am not stuffy.”

Gob smacked is the word Charles would use to describe Iman as the seconds tick by. His nerves are heightening out of fear that she plans to reject him, but he also finds it cute. With a shake of her head, he watches her pull it together. There are questions in her eyes, but she completely turns so her body faces him and smirks. It’s cocky and a little mischievous.

“Can’t waltz here.”

“I know how to dance in a club.”

“Okay.”

Not wanting to risk her saying no, Charles’ hand slips from her elbow to her hand. His fingers thread with her’s and he leads her away from those she was talking to out down the stairs out of VIP. On their way they pass the group of men who all look unsure if they want to glare or turn their focus on figuring out how to get pictures with Charles. He’s very familiar with men who are upset with him for “stealing” a girl but can’t help but be a fan of him. He’s not so full of himself that he thinks that with all of them, but there are many who often fit into that category.

He throws them a smile as they pass and head to the dance floor.

Most clubs they go to tend to have people milling around and very little dancing being done. A picture of how far the clubs and parties he saw on TV and heard stories about had changed. It made them a bit boring, but Charles didn’t really know a scene like that so him missing that time period wasn’t as strong as someone who lived it up in the 00s and 10s.

It also meant he had limited experience knowing how to party. At least in the way Iman does. She spoke of the fun times with friends and her brother at parties and clubs that were focused on the music and dancing part of things. So, despite her being a few years younger than him, she knew what the hell she was doing.

But he wouldn’t let that stop him.

The moment they find space Iman begins dancing, joy dancing across her features and a glint of challenge in her eye. She’s seen Charles dance at places like this and she knows he only has a couple things in his arsenal, but he wants to prove her wrong.

For a second, he stands there, a slight sway to his body. He watches her like he’d watch a driver practicing. Taking in her every move and of those around them. Then he moves with her, matching her energy. It’s awkward and he feels that deep in his bones, but as time ticks on he finds comfort. Or he simply stops caring about being awkward.

His eyes are intently on Iman because he can’t look away from her even if he tries, but also because he wants to see the shift in her eyes. She goes from sure that he’ll back down or not keep up and to a sprinkle of shock and happiness.

She wants to dance with him. That is what he’s sure of and it makes him all the more certain that he needs to continue out of his comfort zone.

They dance back to back songs and he does his best to keep up with Iman. There are moments where he feels very out of place and he catches the eye of Max who gives him a thumbs up, but also laughs at him. That makes him want to leave the premises immediately, but he stays. He continues dancing as if he has zero cares in the world other than having this time with Iman and the voice that reminds him that this will probably end up on the internet tomorrow is too faint for him to think too much about.

Pierre glides through at some point, making them both throw back three rounds of shots before he takes his place a few feet away to dance with Kika.

The vibe of the music changes and the crowd goes crazy. It’s more on par with what Charles is used to with the DJ friendships he has, and it puts him back in his comfort zone. He strays from the way Iman is dancing and goes into something that is more jumping than anything. And she matches that energy.

Despite knowing that she prefers a different way, Iman has changed to match his energy. To give him space to be more at ease. A louder voice in his head says that he’s making the action too large, but he knows Iman. She’s usually the vibe setter and everyone else gravitates to what she’s doing. Not the other way around.

A smile so wide it hurts forms on his lips, and he feels sure about things. More certain than he has since he first pulled his head out of his ass.

The fun he was having amplifies and soon enough it’s all their friends just bouncing and dancing around and screaming the lyrics to any song that lasts long enough for them to figure out the words.

It’s some of the best fun Charles has had this season so far.

The DJ stops playing so many intense songs back to back and it gives Charles time to catch his breath. He’s sweaty in a way he doesn’t love, and his chest is moving rapidly, but he’s happy. Despite the dip in the club’s vibe, he’s still feeling like he’s on a high.

In front of him Iman says something, but the DJ and crowd are so loud he can’t hear her. Charles leans closer to hear her better.

“Can we take a br…”

A body slams into Charles from behind and it sends him into Iman, who is also stumbling due to someone next to them tripping into her a little. Charles is able to regain balance, but being hit on two sides doesn’t do Iman any favors and she begins to fall back. Without a thought his arms are around her and he’s pulling her into his chest. Because of her reaction time she flails a little not realizing he’s stabilized them and then looks at him with a bashful expression after hitting him in the side.

“Sorry,” she mouths.

“It’s okay.”

With her still in his arms Charles looks around for the culprit and sees a man who looks deeply apologetic behind him. From the frozen group of men, a little farther back Charles figures out they must have pushed him harder than expected and that set off a domino effect. When they notice Charles looking at them, they shake off their daze and utter multiple apologies before scurrying off.

Shaking his head, he turns to look at Iman again. She wears an amused expression and he’s grateful that the incident hasn’t ruined her mood. It hasn’t seemed to catch the attention of anyone except those close enough to deal with the fall out, but they’ve all returned to minding their business.

“Idiots everywhere,” Iman says.

Charles laughs softly. “You would think their parents raised them better.”

“You would.”

The smile on Iman’s face as she says it entrances Charles. He loves it when she smiles and this one is just as pretty as the others, but it does something to him. His eyes flicker from her lips to her eyes and after a moment he notices that she’s doing the same.

Do it. The voice in his head says.

Not even thinking to fight it, he tilts his head down. He hears the catch of breath in Iman’s throat, but she doesn’t move away so he continues until his lips touch hers. They’re as soft as he imagined and the feel of finally getting to kiss them drowns away any doubt he’s had. Which only makes him continue kissing her. He’s gentle and slow and he wants to keep it that way. This is a first step, but then Iman presses closer. She pulls away for a moment and then deepens the kiss, moving at a heightened pace.

Charles can barely think of anything but kissing her. He could look like all those couples he makes snide remarks about being one second away from public sex, but he wouldn’t care, not even a little bit.

It’s unclear how long they stay that way, but it can go on for much longer if he has it his way. Which he knows he can’t.

They pull away, chests rising and falling at the pace they were when they’d danced for who knows how long. The part of him that feels like he’s messed up flutters to the surface, but he doesn’t really feel it. More than anything he’s sure that he’s finally found the right course of action.

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