#pierre gasly fic

[norrisleclercf1]

Mafia!pierre where he kidnaps reader to negotiate with her dad (another mafia leader) but slowly starts falling for her and gets protective?

Warnings: Kidnapping, bad language, protective!Pierre, murder

Words: 1.3K

A/N: Yeahhhh I started writing and it turned into a fic, whoops

"You kidnapped her?" Pierre looks up from his paperwork, a slight smile on his lips. "Maybe." Pierre's right-hand man groans, throwing his arms up, and walks away. "Whatever, her bastard of a father deserves it anyway," Pierre grumbles, thinking about a particular person sleeping in his bed.

It was pretty easy to kidnap you. You'd think the daughter of a Mafia Boss would have exceptional security, but Pierre and his men could move in and take you without a fuss. It helped that they had an insider slip you a sedative during your nightly tea.

Pierre groans, clicking on the security cameras to check in on you. Seeing you curled around his pillow and still out, he smiles. Your father will notice soon that you have been taken and come screaming for your back. Yet, it will be challenging for him to get you back. As Pierre will finally have his demands met.

Bored, he leaves his office, heads to his bedroom, and nods off the guards as he enters his room. "Shame, you are delicious looking," Pierre whispers, poking your cheek, watching how you wince, batting his finger away. "Leave m awone." Words muffled by his pillow, Pierre rolls his eyes.

"Don't want to wake, fine, I'll wake you." Grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand, he throws it right in your face. "Ahhh." Waking up with gasps, face and neck cold from the water, and suddenly woken. "How dare you wake me up like this! Father will-" You stop blinking when you see someone you know all too well.

"Gasly." You hiss, Pierre smirking as he sets the glass down. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocks back onto his heels. "You're a deep sleeper and far too trusting of your father's staff." Unable to think of a comeback, you glare at Pierre, who rocks forward, poking your cheek. Slapping his hand away, he chuckles.

"Wonder how much Daddy will give me for you? I'm sure it's a lot." Wincing at his words, you know the truth. Pierre will see nothing from your father; that man could care less for you. If your mother was still around, maybe he'd care, but with his new mistress and her pregnant, you were trash to him.

"You'll get nothing from him." You bite back. Pierre clicking his tongue, bops your nose, knowing you hate it. "Please, his precious baby daughter? He'll give me whatever I want when he finds out you've been taken." Looking away, you take in the dark classic French and Roman architecture, shocked by his excellent taste.

"You'll get nothing," Sighing, you look down. "I mean nothing to him." The last part whispered that Pierre didn't hear it. "Speak up, Y/n. It's annoying when you mumble. Don't get comfortable in my bed unless." He steps forward, leaning in the heavy scent from the pillow floating off him. "You want to warm my bed for me every night." Slapping him hard on the cheek, you scramble off and slam the bathroom door having to pee.

"Awwww, don't pout cherie. You and I can have our own fun." His laugh echoes as he leaves you alone. "Creepy French bastard. Hate that you smell good." You hiss, staring at the cologne that was clearly his. "Oops." Hand knocking it over as it spills open and down the sink. "Hope you're not a limited edition." Skipping to the shower.

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

5 weeks later

"Clearly, her father doesn't give a fuck about her. We can just kill her now." Pierre doesn't answer, watching the camera outside as you tan; you're so still; Pierre sent someone to watch and make sure you don't fall asleep. "We're not killing her," Pierre growls, glaring at the men before him.

"Of course not, because you've been fucking her every night since she's been here." The room goes still as Pierre searches for the one who said that, eyes land on the one person not looking him in the eyes. "You've got the ball to say it, but not look me in the eyes and say it?" The guy looks up, face pale, staring at the ice-cold eyes of his Don. "It's true, though; she's been in your room every night. Fucking that whore." Pierre shoots out of his chair.

Grabbing the guy by the collar, he slams his head down hard, and a sickening crack bounces off the walls. "If you think I'd stick my dick in her pussy you are very wrong. But, I will not tolerate you calling her a whore. Burying him in the sea." He lets the guy slide down as the others move fast. "No one bothers me for the rest of the day." Pierre closes the cameras down, heading to the pool.

"You'll burn if you stay out here." Groaning at your peace being ruined. "Go away, Gasly. I'm sure you're busy with my father." The lie tastes like acid on your tongue. "I'm ignoring him." Pierre, not wanting to tell you the truth. He licks his lips, the 2 acts of kindness he's done for you today making him sick.

Technically it's 3 acts of service as he let you stay in his room. Pierre has been sleeping on the couch in the room, having never touched you. He's joked about it but stops and walks away when he senses your uneasiness. The anger in his office, hearing his men call for your death, felt wrong; even hearing that bastard call you a whore was like a pit. He hates that he knows how you take your tea, favorite scents, flowers, etc.

It was small stuff that you'd tell him at night. The silence in the room was deafening, and you couldn't handle it. Pierre noticed and placed a small sound machine in the room, only turning it on when you stopped talking. He hates that your father doesn't care you've been kidnapped. That he still hasn't sent word that his daughter was missing, nothing. It makes him want to tear the man apart.

"You're lying. Found out the truth have you?" You pull off Pierre's sunglasses, watching the man before you look away, suddenly interested in the pool. "Like I said, I'm ignoring him. He's sent something, but I wasn't satisfied with it." Pierre snaps, angry at himself more than you. Rolling your eyes, you lay back down, soaking in the sun. "You can lie to me all you want, but I'm waste. Father has his dumb little mistress ready to pop soon, and the moment it's a son, he'll send someone here and kill me." Pierre freezes upon hearing those words.

Why does he get this pit in his stomach anytime someone mentions you dying? It's stupid; you're the enemy. Yet he cares when he sees that rejected look in your eyes and wants to take it away or learn another fact about you.

Shit, he was fucked. Was he starting to care for you? No, he couldn't be. You're an annoying person who spilled his favorite cologne yet clings to his pillow to inhale more. He likes when you tell him his stupid orange shorts look lovely against his sun-kissed skin or his eyes are like rare sapphires. He hates that you pick flowers and bring them into his office. How you have become too comfortable in his daily routine and home. Like you're supposed to be here.

"No one will hurt you while you're under my care. If anyone so much as jokes about it, tell me." Looking back, you see how serious Pierre is. Hearing a commotion, you look, seeing a black bag and people struggling. "Is that what you mean? Killing your own people?" Not at all disturbed by the scene. You've seen worse while living with your father.

Taking a step forward, he touches your chin, the two of you looking at each other. "Yes, I don't care how many of them I kill. No one touches what's mine." Dropping your chin, he walks off, leaving you there.

[thef1diary]

A Buzzing Date | P. Gasly

Summary: it's Valentine's Day and Pierre takes you out on a date, but he also gives you a little gift to make the night more enjoyable-mainly for him.

Warnings: 18+, use of a vibrator, kind of public, orgasm denial/delay, Pierre loves to tease, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, slight choking, idiots in love

Pairing: pierre x fem!reader

Word count: 4.1k

It's Valentine's Day and this year, you have a boyfriend to celebrate it with. This is your first Valentine's Day together, considering you met him in March of last year.

You could say that you're a sappy romantic person because of the gift you've given him today. You thought it through, and started preparing for it months ago. A jar was filled with paper hearts, that you created yourself after searching up videos on how to make origami paper hearts. Before you turned the strips of paper into the shape you wanted, you wrote a reason why you loved Pierre on it.

There were a hundred hearts in the jar. It's safe to say that Pierre wanted to open them all at once when you gave it to him, but you convinced him otherwise. But he did open one after negotiations.

You waited for his reaction, and when he laughed after reading it, you were slightly confused because you didn't remember a reason you wrote that was something funny. Well, you would remember it if you weren't drinking wine while writing the reasons. "Is that so? I'm honoured, ma belle" he said and turned the paper around to show you.

The paper read, "you're beyond amazing in bed and I love your dick"

Your cheeks turned red in embarrassment, out of all the hearts he could've chosen, it had to be that one. "Does it make a difference if I say that I was drunk when I wrote that?" You asked as he embraced you, placing his head in the crook of your neck. "Drunk words are sober thoughts. There must be some truth to it?" He mumbled, placing a light kiss on your neck.

"Maybe but I expected this moment to be romantic."

"Oh but it is, romantic in a sexy way. I love this so much, baby, thank you." He lifted his head and claimed your lips with his to expression his gratitude. Before the kiss could turn into something more heated, you parted away from him.

"I have to get dressed because you're taking me out on a date, remember?" You told him, but instead of a frown that you'd normally get, he agreed with you. "Of course. That reminds me, I have a gift for you." He walked away while you stood there in confusion.

He quickly returned with a gift bag in hand, "it's not as romantic as yours, but I hope you like it." You looked inside the bag and taking out the contents.

It was a dress. A beautiful backless wine red coloured long dress with a high slit on one side. You remembered this one very well, it was a dress you looked at when you two were in Milan a month ago, but didn't end up buying. "Pierre" you said as you held up the dress in front of you, then making eye contact with him. "You remembered." You briefly kissed him on the lips.

"There's something else in the bag, ma chérie" he told you, and you looked in the bag once again. There was a box of some sort, all wrapped up. You could tell that he put in the effort of wrapping the gift.

Unwrapping it, you couldn't tell what it was until you opened the box. Then, when you saw it, your eyes widened. It was a vibrator.

You looked at Pierre who had a growing smirk on his face, and raised his eyebrows in question to know your opinion. "Very thoughtful, baby. Is this for the nights that I'm alone?" You teased the idea of using this device without Pierre.

"Not really. I get to control it with my phone" he stepped closer towards you, placing his hands on your hips. He brought his mouth closer to your ear and whispered, "wear the dress and put this in you for our date tonight." He instructed, and you almost moaned at the thought of it. The excitement was clear in your eyes, and he smiled at you. "You want to?" He still asked you if you were comfortable with his idea or not and you nodded eagerly.

Then, while you took a shower, Pierre was getting dressed. Then, you asked for some privacy when you were getting ready, not because you were uncomfortable in his presence, it was because you knew if you took out the toy again, both of you would end up in bed instead of the restaurant.

Pierre was on his phone when you were on your way down the stairs, but the sound of your heels made him snap his head up to look at you. He imagined you in that dress before he bought it, but that image was long forgotten as soon as he saw you in that dress. He looked at you, from the top to bottom, taking his time. Then he whistled which made you laugh at his antics.

While he looked at you, you took the time to check him out too. He wore a suit, the white dress shirt contrasting his tanned skin. He left a couple buttons undone, letting you see a hint of his bare chest, and the chain that proudly hung around his neck.

He held his hand out for you bringing you closer and placing his hands on your hips, "words cannot do justice to how beautiful you look." He commented which made you blush profusely. Your own hands travelled up to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. "I'm supposed to be the sappy romantic." You spoke but he could only focus on the way your lips moved, coated with lipstick that was the same shade of your dress.

He pulled you closer, so now your bodies were touching, "is my other gift in use too?" He asked as his hands trailed down your back until it was resting on your ass. You nodded, "yes it is."

You were very aware of the vibrator that was in your pussy and also resting perfectly against your clit. "Good girl" he pecked your lips once before holding your hand and leading you outside.

During the car ride, Pierre tested the new device and based on your reactions to the lowest setting, he knew that tonight would be enjoyable. You were already turned on before you were even at the restaurant so when he turned it off after a moment, you pouted. "Don't pout, that was just the beginning." He kissed your cheek briefly then turned back to focus on driving.

Pierre made reservations beforehand, and he held your hand as you two were led to your table. As you were reading the menu, you almost jolted when you felt the vibrations again. Eyeing Pierre, you saw how his cheeky smirk was back but he didn't look at you, he was just reading his menu.

This time, the vibrations didn't turn off, he kept it on. Even if it was at the lowest setting, you could feel yourself getting hotter because it was pressing against your clit as you were seated. Now, you were squirming in your seat.

A few moments later, a waiter had introduced themself and asked for your order. Pierre was acting casual, as if he wasn't holding the control of your vibrator in his hand. "And what about you, ma chérie?" Pierre asked you after he placed his order, even the waiter was looking at you in expectation.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, you felt the intensity of the vibrations increase, making you grab on to the edge of the table to compose yourself. You looked at the menu to avoid eye contact with the waiter, and also to buy some time to find the right words. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, finally muttering out your choice of food for tonight.

The waiter didn't notice your squirming or if he did, he didn't say anything. Politely nodding, he walked away. In an instant, you glared at Pierre, "why did I agree to this?" You asked to no one in particular.

"Because you love me. And you are enjoying this as much as I am, don't lie."

"I-" you interrupted yourself with a low moan that escaped your mouth. Pierre's eyes darkened, "quiet. You don't want the others to hear do you?" He asked but all you could do was focus on the pleasure. "Or maybe you do. You want them to know that there's a vibrator in your pussy right now, in the middle of a dinner date." He spoke, and to others it might seem like he was just making normal conversation but only you knew of the filth he was saying. You couldn't help but moan at his words. He knew very well how much his words affected you.

"Pierre" you muttered his name, but didn't know what you wanted to ask, didn't know if you wanted him to turn it off or make you cum in public.

He fiddled with the settings on the app, increasing the intensity again. You cursed, and he smiled in satisfaction. You were almost sweating now, and the grip on the table turned your knuckles white. You happened to catch the attention of the people sitting on the next table, a woman was concerned. "excuse me, are you okay? You seem a little pale."

You looked at her and gave her your best nod, and Pierre filled a glass of water for you, "here, maybe this will help" he said, knowing well that it wouldn't help. She still looked at you in concern and you knew you had to speak to her, "not feeling too great but I'll be okay."

She nodded and returned to her own conversation with the person in front of her, not looking at you again. Pierre took your hands in his, "it's not enough to make you cum is it?" He asked but he already knew the answer. You shook your head, silently pleading to make you cum. "Work for it." He stated.

Soon, the waiter arrived with food, and you hoped that it would distract you from the vibrations on your sensitive clit. It didn't work. Throughout the dinner, he would play with the intensity, notching it up and down constantly, almost making you choke on the food.

"I thought you're supposed to be nice" you told him once he turned the vibrator off right when you were about to cum. "I never said I would be." He replied, and you knew that this was the time to take control, well as best as you can. "But Pierre, my love, I've been so good to you. I can't wait to go home and show you just how much I love your cock." You reiterated the note he opened earlier.

"I'm sure you will, but we have time for that. Unless you want to skip dessert?"

"Please, take me home." You couldn't help but beg. You've understood that he wouldn't let you cum right now, so might as well go home.

He asked for the bill once you were done eating, listening to you and skipping dessert. But, what you didn't expect was the vibrator setting to be turned up to the max, making you tremble in pleasure as the waiter was standing right by your table. Pierre took his sweet time to take his card out of his wallet, and deciding on a tip.

You were waiting for him to stop the buzzing and ruin another orgasm that was building up but that never happened. Before you could prepare yourself, you were sent over the edge. You couldn't stop the moan that escaped your mouth, but at least you were glad that the waiter was walking away and didn't witness that.

You took deep breaths to compose yourself but it didn't help that the buzzing remained on, even after you orgasmed. You were sensitive, but you wanted more. Because of the build up all this time, you weren't satisfied with one orgasm. You looked at Pierre who was standing up and holding out a hand for you. In his other hand, he held his phone and lessened the intensity, which annoyed you as much as it helped you compose yourself.

You took his hand, and helped yourself up. You legs shaking immediately making you lean against him. "I hope you're not tired, because that was just the beginning. Plus I do have to reward you for being so good." He kissed your forehead and decided to turn the vibrator off. He wasn't that mean.

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes at him, but a smile quickly made its way on your face too, because you enjoyed that as much as he did.

The car ride was brutal. Pierre didn't let up on playing with the controls on his phone, making you squirm around in the seat. You threatened him that next time, as pay back, you will suck him off while he drives. But that didn't really work because he wasn't opposed to it. However, you knew that if you actually did, he would not be as cocky as he is now.

Once you finally reached home, Pierre was quick to walk over to your side and open the door for you. You got out but your legs were shaking, making Pierre chuckle. You glared at him, but it didn't last long because he carried you to the front door.

Once you two were inside, you made your way to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water for your sudden dry throat. Pierre follows you closely, watching as your bare leg peeks out beneath your dress due to the high slit.

He leans against the other side of the counter, watching your throat bob as you gulp down the cold water. You're staring at him with an intense look in your eyes and he questions it. "What's wrong, ma chérie?" He asks as if he isn't the cause of the wetness between your legs.

You turned around to place the empty glass in the sink when you felt his presence right behind you. You felt his hot breath against your neck as he placed his hands on your waist.

Pierre was brushing his fingers up and down your dress as if to feel the soft material. "You like your gift?" He asked, turning you around in his grasp. You nodded, not being able to formulate words that would suffice.

"Why so quiet now? I thought you were going to show me how much you love my cock when we got home." He restated your words from the restaurant.

This caused your cheeks to redden. You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his lean body underneath his shirt. "Off." You instructed after finding your words.

He obliged, taking off his shirt and throwing it somewhere across the room. You placed your lips on his, savouring the taste of the wine he enjoyed with dinner.

His hands were searching for the zipper on the side of your dress since it was backless. Once he did, he instantly unzipped it, parting from you to watch how the dress easily slipped off your body.

He groaned at the sight. You decided to wear one of your new lingerie sets, because it matched perfectly with the dress he gifted. The lace barely covered anything, a flimsy thin material. One thing you didn't think about before wearing this set, was how soaked you'd be. The panties were damp, stuck to your skin and your wetness was evident.

You placed your lips on his collarbone, equally sucking and kissing. You made your way down his body, lowering yourself to you knees.

You paused, looking up at him while biting your lip. He was quick to release your lip, pulling it down using his thumb. You were planning on staying true to your words, unbuttoning his pants but he had other ideas. "I changed my mind. Come up here and let me take care of you"

He held your hands and placed them on his shoulder as his hands caressed your soft skin. "You look so pretty. So ready to be fucked, right?" He spoke, causing a moan to escape your mouth.

He placed a brief kiss on your lips before stepping away from you. "Do a twirl, let me see all of you" he instructed, and you stood still for a moment before registering his words. Turning around as he wanted, you showed yourself off to him.

"Oh baby, this set is amazing, can't wait to take it off you." He pulled the waistband of your panties outwards just to release it and snap it back.

You brought your hands up to his hair while his were resting against your ass. "You know something," you began, "I thought of you when I bought them."

"Yeah?" A smirk adorned his face. "You knew I'd love it, you know me so well." He pressed his lips against yours and you deepened it. You were a sucker for his kisses.

Between the kisses, he lifted you up and placed you on the countertop. He wrapped your legs around him while he further deepened the kiss, then pressing his lips across your neck.

Once he was satisfied, he moved away but you held him close by using your legs. He laid you flat on the countertop, pressing small, barely there kisses down your body.

Then, he got to the waistband of your panties and saw the wet patch on the cloth. His eyes instantly darkened when he saw the protruding shape of the vibrator held in place by your panties. "Fuck baby this is so hot. You want me to turn it on again?" He looked at you intensely, and just for a moment you were about to give in.

You shook your head, "I want you, Pierre." You reached out for him but he was just out of your grasp.

He didn't reply, instead he removed your panties which made the cool air hit your pussy, making you gasp. You were now just realizing how wet you were, and Pierre was on a similar train of thought.

He looked at the vibrator sitting right on your clit and inside your hole. Bringing his hand down, he spread your pussy. You brought your line of sight to his face and saw how his tongue was slightly poking out between his lips.

"Pierre" you moaned his name, wanting him to do something. And he did. He took out the vibrator from your pussy, and replaced it with his fingers. Moving at a faster pace. You couldn't help stop the sounds that left your mouth. You would try to be quiet, but you knew that he loved your noises.

Slowing down, he took his fingers back out and you were about to complain before you realized what he was doing. He spread your wetness around further, brought his face closer to your pussy and dropped a string of spit from his mouth right on your clit.

You arched your back, feeling it slide down before his fingers spread it around. Removing his fingers from your pussy, he brought it closer to your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself. You complied, doing as you were told.

"We skipped out on dessert, but I think this makes up for it no?" He smirked, asking a rhetorical question.

You released his fingers from your mouth and he lifted your thighs to place on his shoulder. You could feel his hot breath on your pussy and he also blew some air which made you squirm.

He liked the reactions he was getting out of you, knowing that you were a lot more sensitive due to your first orgasm with the vibrator. Pierre presses a few filthy open-mouthed kisses along your folds before licking a bold stripe from your hole to your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

The stark contrast from his hot mouth on your pussy and the cool sensation from the marble made you a moaning mess. You were already close to the edge when he fingered you, and now eating you out like it was his last meal, you didn't know if you handle it any longer.

Your eyes were closed due to the overwhelming pleasure that you didn't realize his fingers were also probing at your opening. Your eyes snap open at the intrusion that you needed. Pierre knew every inch of your body that you didn't have to tell him what you needed.

Pierre moved his fingers at a hard and fast pace, causing you to hear the squelching sounds mixed with your moans sends you over the edge as you begged him for a release. "Pierre, please, right there, oh fuck"

Continuing to drag his fingers inside of you as you ride out your climax, pressing chaste kisses to your clit. Then you felt too empty when he removed his fingers. You watched him as he sucked his fingers clean and smirking at your blissed out state. "Better than any dessert from outside." He commented, making you blush.

His praise also caused the heat to grow between your legs as if you didn't just have your second orgasm for the night. Looking at the noticeable bulge in his pants, you brought the heels of your feet to the edge of the countertop, spreading your legs wider in invitation.

Biting your lip, you locked eyes with him who already began removing his pants. "Merde, you got me so hard" he groaned as he palmed himself over his boxers. You slipped your hand between your legs and circled your clit as you watched Pierre. "Look at you, so desperate. I just made you cum and you still want more."

Your eyes rolled back at his words, loving the filth coming out of his mouth. "Please fuck me Pierre" you begged. "Don't have to ask twice," he comments while his eyes are transfixed on your hand playing with your pussy. His boxer briefs are gone in a second and his hard cock is the only thing you focus on as everything else becomes blurry.

God, you were obsessed with him.

He stepped closer, you could feel his tip resting against the opening of your pussy but he wouldn't move further. Then, he's sliding in, and it knocks the breath out of you. You're at a loss of words when his cock is filling you up perfectly.

While he's thrusting, he brought a hand to wrap around your throat. Pierre groans at the sight of your eyes rolling back again, "I won't last long, you're so perfect. So tight, taking all of me so good" he was muttering under his breath.

"I love your cock, Pierre" you groaned out loud and he chuckled, "I know baby, I know."

He began picking up the speed of his thrusts, going at a brutal pace. You brought yourself up on your elbows so you could kiss him, swallowing each other's moans.

You parted when his tip hits that sweet spot, making your third orgasm of the night rip through you. Your pussy was squeezing him tightly, making him lose control. Your sensitive walls were still being put through in pleasurable torture as he kept thrusting in you to reach his orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum" he stated, "give it to me baby, please, I want it so bad." You cried out in pleasure, tears sliding down your face.

That seemed to do it for him, groaning as he thrusted once more before stilling. He comes with a deep groan and you can feel his cum filling you up.

You are thoroughly exhausted, noticing that Pierre seemed to be tired out too. The only sounds were of both of you breathing deeply. He pulled out of you, making you hiss at the emptiness.

He helped you sit up and wrapped his hands around your waist. Pierre placed a kiss on your forehead then peppered kisses all over your face, making you chuckle.

"We need to use that more often." He said, talking about the vibrator. You pretended to think before saying, "but you're such a tease."

"And you love that." He pecked your lips.

"Yes I do. And I love you"

"More than my cock?" He laughed and you playfully hit his chest.

[f1version]

SHAMELESS ★ PG10

pairing: jealous!pierre gasly x girlfriend!reader (she/her)

summary: Pierre is convinced his best friend is flirting with you, his girlfriend, and cannot stand it any longer.

Or this request

warnings: +18 MINORS DNI, slight smut (it’s my first one and english is not my native language please bare with me), fingering — female receiving, oral — female receiving, explicit language, swearing.

word count: 1.46k

note: doing this request was so much fun ! i hope y’all enjoy this little thing :)

Pierre's thoughts were a mess, he couldn't process what he was watching properly. He felt sick, something bitter spreading across every muscle of his body, making him think in ways he usually didn't. He tried organizing his thoughts:

One: He's an idiot.

Or that's what he has been calling himself over and over for the last 20 minutes, because he shouldn't feel like this. He shouldn't feel as if there was a reason to be worried about this.

Two: He's madly in love with you.

It had taken time, getting into a relationship with you, being long-time friends didn't make it easier, being best friends only made it harder, it was a risk he didn't want to take. Now, he's glad he did, but in this particular moment, he didn't know what to think about his other friendships.

Three: He is about to punch one of his best friends in the face.

Here's the thing: It's Charles's birthday, Pierre loves Charles, he is his best friend. Charles and you have been friends for as long as you and Pierre have, and that’s why the three of you are in a beautiful hotel venue, celebrating Charles' birthday with another hundred people. This is nothing out of his comfort zone.

Nevertheless, what he is witnessing is making him feel absurdly desperate and uncomfortable.

You and Charles have been talking for 43 minutes and counting —He doesn't even know why he is counting them— but that shouldn't be a problem because you are friends, right?

Well, friends don't look at other's girlfriend like that.

Charles is flirting with you, Pierre is one hundred percent sure of it. He's leaning in, telling you things that make you laugh, he talks and talks but when you do is like there's only you in this world.

Pierre is going to kill him.

But who could blame him? It wasn't Charles by himself that bother him, but the fact that the Monegasque knew you as well as he did. Not in the same way, but it was still triggering some thoughts.

Pierre was so focused looking at you, but he could feel someone calling him, whom he believes is Lando. It must be.

"Jesus, this man... Pierre!" Lando yells and the Frenchman jumps in shock. "What's wrong with you? Did you drink too much?"

Pierre didn't drink when he was thinking uncontrollably, overthinking was one of his biggest enemies. Lando knew this, but Pierre just shook his head. "Uh no, leave me alone"

"Mate" Lando called out "You are about to murder Charles out of jealousy, and you want me to leave you alone?"

"Jealousy? I'm not jealous. J'suis bon!"

"Sure," the Brit says with a smile, sarcastically.

"Shut up, Lando"

Lando grins, then sighs.

"She loves you, Pierre, she's not going to leave you. And if she is, it's not going to be for Charles, she wouldn't do that to either of you"

"That's not the problem, the problem is that my best friend is in love with her!"

Lando snorts, laughing "Oh mate, you are definitely drunk. Or you are seeing things" Pierre looks at him, deadpan. "You know I'm right, there is literally no in-love in Charlie's eyes"

He doesn't answer, he knows Lando is right, but he better be dead, cheated on, or betrayed than saying it.

"Just leave"

Lando rolls his eyes "Whatever, keep being stupid" He knows his friend is far too deep in his delusion. "I don't even know why I'm getting into this."

You could feel him. His stare, his anger, his jealousy.

It’s funny, your boyfriend being jealous of Charles Leclerc, his best friend. And yes, some would be right about this but you loved Pierre, he was the most gorgeous man in the world for you. Besides, Charles wasn't flirting with you —which Pierre certainly thought he was— he was drunk-talking, and you were his current victim.

You had no problem listening to Charles say the most stupid things, in the end, it was his birthday. But after half an hour, you felt the necessity to go drink something, dance a bit with Pierre, and maybe leave to have some fun with the Frenchman.

That's when the search begins, you try to hook other people into the conversation, yet everyone knows they won't be able to leave. Until Max appears.

Perfect. He was just as drunk, and he loved talking—Maxsplaining.

"Max!" You called and saw Pierre frowning from afar. "Party boy has a question for you!"

Max automatically walks to you two, smiling and looking wasted. "Really? What’s your question, Charles?"

"He just doesn't remember restart procedures!" You say with a little laugh.

"Holy shit. Okay, so you know when..." And he is far gone.

You wait at least five minutes before leaving, making sure none of the two men cares enough to hold you back from their shenanigans.

When you turn around, you see Pierre leaning on a wall. You notice how his face turns just before you look at him. This man.

You approach Pierre, he goes tense at your presence. You know he's holding back, holding emotions he doesn't want to let you know he's feeling; little does he know, you already have him figured out.

"Do you have to be so shameless about it?" you ask tilting your head a bit, more curious about his reaction than his actual response.

"I don't know what you're talking about" the Frenchman answered carelessly, not looking at you. His arms are crossed, and he looks frustrated. You shrug, a grin showing on your face.

Pierre couldn't think straight, he doesn't recall ever feeling like this. This jealous. And when he looked at you, he almost lost it. You didn’t only look gorgeous under the red and blue lights, but you looked so confident, he understood then that you had read him perfectly.

"You know, darlin'," you say while Pierre's eyes shamelessly touched your body. "You look hot when you're jealous."

But now Pierre looks exasperated. "I'm not jealous, I would never be jealous"

"Sure. Just make me a favor and don't become a toxic prick." You say, "Charlie had no intention to bed me, he was just drunk-talking"

Hearing the nickname, that's the exact moment when Pierre lost it. He grabs your hand and makes you sprint through the hotel, leaving the venue, and getting to the elevator.

You giggle.

"Oh, now you're laughing? After you fuck around like that?" He bursts, cocking his head to the side, eyes deep and challenging. You know the only thing behind him was desire.

"Yes," you reply innocently, moving your hands so they rest around his neck. "Is there a problem with that?"

"You are unbelievable. You got me all worked up and for what, your enjoyment?" Pierre rolls his eyes, holding you by your waist, tightly. He moves closer when he whispers into your ear, "I'll give you something to fucking enjoy, mon ange"

And then he kisses you.

It's harsh and hot, his hands are everywhere for a moment before he settles them on your thighs.

"Jump" he demands, and you can only comply, wrapping your legs around his torso, praying all gods that no one wishes to use the elevator right at this moment.

Pierre licks into your mouth, dragging his teeth over your skin, biting your lip, and suddenly it seems as if he's never going to be close enough, even when your bodies feel each other's warmth through the clothes.

The Frenchman felt a hundred thousand different things, he was hot, wanting, and mad, but also wanted to be gentle and remind you how good he was for you. How no one could come closer to this. He needed you to feel all the things he was, he needed to feel you around him, near him.

The elevator door opened, and you felt him shift. One hand moved across your ass to hold you with it alone, his other hand going for the room's key. When he opened, you cursed Charles for assigning them such a spacious suite.

Pierre seemed to be more stressed by it because he didn't bother to walk to the bedroom. Instead, he walked you to the counter in the middle of the kitchen, sitting you down, deepening the kiss while holding your face.

"This is what we're gonna do, mon chéri," he said into your mouth, "you are going to sit down here, be a good girl and I'll fuck this pussy with my fingers and mouth. Got it?"

You let out a whimper thinking about it and nodded, you needed to feel something, to feel him.

"Use your words, my love"

You struggle, especially because you feel how Pierre's mouth hovers over your neck, hot breath sending chills down your spine. "Yes, god, Pierre, I need you"

He doesn't waste more time, bunching up your shirt and pulling down the dark blue dress pants you had on. His eyes turn mischievous and dark —blue eyes turned black— as he sees your loose control.

"All night with him," Pierre says, tracing his finger over your core. Softly, teasing. "Just to become this beautiful wet mess with me." He emphasizes the last word by pressing onto your clit.

Your mouth parts, a loud moan leaving your lips. You can barely keep your eyes open, trying to focus on him, on his words, but the pleasure of the small friction is enough to distract you.

"You're so naughty," he says, grinning. "I love all these little sounds"

You try to stay composed, breathing deeply before saying, "You were so jealous, it was kind of pathetic, Gasly"

He whimpers, you knew exactly what to say to make him hard, in this case, harder.  "That is not fair," he complains. "He looked so into you, and you seemed into his bullshit"

"If his bullshit is going to get me here all the time, then fucking be it."

Pierre huffs, his knee moving forward to press onto your core, making you whine. You slide your hand through his hair, just as his hands go down and his fingers shove your panties aside to slowly start playing with your dripping folds.

You hear his breath hitch, his eyes never leaving yours. He kisses you, careless of how needy he may seem. You love it. "Pierre—"

His fingers find your clit, a soft cry leaves your mouth, shocked at how sensitive you were. It was dizzying, feeling him smirk into the kiss, knowing exactly where, how, and when to touch. His pace was slow and steady, but the way he kissed you told you he was ready to fuck you stupid.

"Pierre, do something, fuck." you plead when he didn't move his fingers, when he just kisses your neck, sucking and biting, teasing until you're begging for him to start doing something. "Please, please"

"Please what, ange?"

"Please fuck me, please— your fingers." And he palms hardly your clit, adrenaline overpowering him. His fingers start moving in small circles, and your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

"Oh my god, merde"

"Hmm, just like that, don't stop your beautiful noises," He says smirking, twirling his fingers just right. "Does that feel good, love?"

"Feels so so good." You say as his fingers speed, your desperate noises ricocheting down the walls.

He stops kissing you, looking at how you squirm below him. His eyes shout hunger, he is only a man whose desire asks him to give, give and give until you are fully satisfied.

Pierre stops teasing your clit, moving his hands to take off your underwear. The friction makes you cry.

A hand on your thigh spreads your legs a little wider, and he gives you a soft kiss before sinking onto his knees. You swear you've never seen him as hungry.

Your back arches the moment his mouth opens to lick your slit, your hands find his hair, and you pull him closer.

"Fuck. Y/n, ange, let me hear you" he asks, eyes closed and mouth pressed to your pussy, you obey, moaning and begging for more. He follows with the same obscene sounds, sending a rough vibration to your folds, enchanted with you.

"Pierre—" You whispered, his tongue curled around your clit. He loved when you called out his name. "Holy shit, I–"

"Yes, baby, yes" He moves to go for air, he wishes he shouldn't. "Tell me who makes you feel like this. Who's making you feel this good?"

Your thighs clench around him, your hand trying to hold onto him. "You" There's a gasp, loud and bold, "You, Pierre, it's only you"

He smiles in satisfaction, changing his mouth for fingers so he can kiss you for a moment.

And you can still feel the kiss when his mouth moves back to your pussy, making you jump in surprise, slightly closing your thighs around his head. He lets out a laugh, opening you again.

He moves a finger into the depth of your core, mouth still sucking and licking your clit. You loved when he did this, he knew it. He knew you too well.

"Pierre, m-merde" You could only whimper and scream his name, it was just Pierre. Pierre Pierre Pierre. Over and over again, until it was the only thing you could ever think about.

His tongue lapped against you, finger simultaneously curling into you. "F-fuck. Almost t-there, baby, I"

"I know, love, I know," He says, stopping for a second.

"Don't stop, don't fucking stop now" you whine, his tongue moving faster—a second finger entering you.

"C'mon, come for me. All for me" Pierre couldn't stop thinking about you, about making you feel so good you forgot everybody else in the world. "You're mine, aren't you? Tout à moi"

You could only moan in return, with desperate pleas—your body feeling the shock of the orgasm, white-hot and dense. Pierre's name was like a mantra stuck in your head, this was followed by yes yes yes, your answer would always be yes when asked that.

He stands up to kiss you sloppily; You feel your breaths slowing, synchronizing, your legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer.

He smiles, watching you with adoration, the biggest heart-eyes you've ever seen. He was so dumb.

"Fuck your gorgeous face," you protested. "You really thought I would let Charles flirt with me? Better question, why would you think that Leclerc is flirting with me?"

"I was jealous, okay?" He rolls his eyes playfully, his hair a mess. "And y'know what? What if we forget that and finish this in bed?"

You laugh, of course you want more. You always more if it's with Pierre. "Lead the way"

translation (sorry anything is left out!)

ange angel

tout à moi all mine

[changetyre]

Don’t know if you take requests but I really want a fic with Pierre where y/n is a presenter for Sky Sports or something and they start having an affair. Maybe they sleep together after his podium when his gf isn’t in the paddock and then it starts to become and regular occurrence

Dirty Little Secret II Pierre Gasly x Reader ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Sometimes all it takes to break your morals is a French accent and ocean-blue eyes.

WARNINGS: **18+** ,cheating (Not proofread)

A/N: I do not condone cheating but I would lie if I said I didn't enjoy a fic with this plot every once in a while...strictly fictional cheating though...enjoy xx

You watched proudly as Pierre stood up in the third step of the podium his smile bigger than Daniel Riccirdo's at this point with how good his race was after struggling for so long.

You'd be lying if you said that you felt nothing for this man, not even when he looked down at you sending a wink your way as if his girlfriend wasn't watching this at home right now.

This was wrong, so wrong on so many levels yet still it'd be dumber if you tried to deny that he didn't make you feel all sorts of ways.

He was so flirty, so incredibly flirty, and the way his eyes just penetrated deep into your soul whenever he looked at you was torture. Pierre knew exactly what he was doing when he played his games with you.

He knew it was wrong, he knew he was a taken man but he didn't seem to give a fuck as he continually spoke suggestively to you, also trying to get you to fall for him, to make the first move.

And yes he might've been successful in making you flustered, and he might've ALMOST been successful in getting you to go home with him multiple late nights but you were stubborn as well, there was a lot on the line for you and it would take more than a few pickup lines and sly smirks.

You were certainly an idiot for thinking so as all it took that night was for Pierre to whisper a few dirty thoughts into your head at the club for you to currently be riding him right now.

"Fuck you're so gorgeous." Pierre panted as he squeezed your breasts enjoying the sight on top of him.

"Shush." Your hands were planted on his chest for balance as you'd found the perfect pace bouncing up and down on him.

"This is better than I ever imagined." Pierre continued speaking only reminding you more and more about how wrong this was.

But he was right. It was so fucking good and you didn't have the willpower to stop.

"Fuck." The high was coming quickly and it was setting you off pace so Pierre took the liberty to flip you over before pounding into you.

"You gonna cum with me baby?" Pierre asked you, his lips right above yours as he set the perfect pace this time.

"Agh." You moaned, unable to properly think with the amount of pleasure coursing through your body right now. "Faster, faster, please" You begged Pierre as you could feel your orgasm coming.

"You're such a perfect little slut." Pierre smirked as he quickened his pace, capturing his lips in yours and muffling your cries of pleasure as your orgasm finally washed over you.

"Sh*t." You sighed, your body twitching as Pierre slowly decreased his pace but remained in you.

"I'll give you a few seconds." Pierre laughed as he turned you around with him, making sure you stayed connected.

Did this man want to go again? Your mind was screaming inside. You were spent but surprisingly not opposed to the idea. It would be the last time anyway so why not enjoy it?

3 months later

"Good Morning Pierre how are we feeling today?" You asked the man in front of you who immediately took the time to scan you from head to toe.

This didn't fail to set off butterflies in your stomach thanking the heavens that you remained strictly behind the camera so no one could see the way your cheeks suddenly tinted.

Pierre eyed you as if he hadn't completely railed you this very morning making you rush to work with shaky legs while trying to cover the multiple marks he'd left across your body.

"Excellent, I must say it's been a great morning...good workout and feeling ready to take on the weekend," Pierre smirked proudly his eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

The public was used to Pierre's flirty behavior, his dirty comments, and the way he liked to play around in interviews and it was all fun and games to him, he loved the thrill of it but for you, it was like walking on a very slim tight rope and every little comment just set you off balance a little making you almost slip into the abyss.

Maybe Pierre didn't give a shit if the world found out about the situation between the both of you, the one that should've never started in the first place, because it sure as hell seemed like it but for you it was different. You'd worked night and day to get to the position you had right now, having to face all sorts of sexist comments about how you got your job and constantly getting hate.

So something like this could cost you everything. Yet somehow every weekend you seemed willing to risk it all for a man?

It was crazy, you knew it was crazy. It simply didn't make sense. Anyone who knew you would never believe that the y/n that had sworn time and time again never to risk anything for a man, never be the person to possibly come between a relationship was now doing both for this guy.

Through the week these thoughts swirled in your head long enough to convince you that you had to put an end to it but as soon as Pierre showed up at your door, flashing those gorgeous blue eyes and speaking with that beautiful accent he had you down on your knees again and again...literally.

That and paired with the fact that this man fucked like a literal god seemed like reason enough for you to keep doing this...doing him.

"I'm glad to hear you're feeling so well Pierre, what can we expect from you this weekend?" You cleared your throat before asking hoping any nerves in your voice wouldn't be picked up by the public.

"Well, you can definitely expect a lot more from me." Pierre bit his lip as he maintained firm eye contact with you. "I hope I can go faster, push harder, I'll give my all as usual...all the way to the finish line," Pierre smirked.

Fuck Pierre Gasly. He knew exactly what he was doing and you hated how much it turned you on.

"Well, good luck to you Pierre." You quickly finished up knowing that you literally wouldn't be able to ask him anything else without sounding off.

"Alright, See you later." Pierre winked before walking to his next interview.

This really had to end this time.

[norrussell]

The Restroom | Pierre Gasly¹⁰

Part 1 of Rooms Anthology Series

"God, I wish we were at home so I could do some terrible things to you." "What is stopping you from doing them now?"

Pairings: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

Warnings: smut

In honor of my Pierre phase making a potential comeback, enjoy this piece I wrote in January last year (omg that was like more than a year ago tfff) French is google translated

The air was filled with the tinkling of crystal glasses and the soft murmur of conversation as you took your seat at the formal dinner event you were attending. You glanced around the room, admiring elegant decor and the impeccably dressed guests. You looked down and saw that your assigned seat was next to Pierre Gasly's.

Pierre and you had crossed paths a few times before at various Formula One events and every time it ended in the same way. You, in his bed. So you kind of formed a friends with benefits type of relationship. And you knew that this dinner was only going to get more interesting now that you were sitting beside him.

As you settled into your seat, Pierre turned to you with a warm smile, his piercing blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room.

"So lovely to see you here tonight," he said, his French accent adding a touch of sophistication to his words. "I must say, you look absolutely stunning this evening."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his compliment, grateful for the low lighting hiding your reaction. "Thank you, Pierre. It seems the universe just can't keep us apart." you replied, trying to match his charm.

Pierre chuckled softly at your response, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ah yes, it seems fate is determined to keep us in each other's orbits," he mused, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his wine glass. "Tell me, cherie, have you been enjoying the evening so far?"

You couldn't help but be drawn in by his magnetic presence, the familiar dance of flirtation between you both reigniting effortlessly. With a playful smile, you replied, "Well, the company has certainly improved since I sat down."

As the first course was served, Pierre and you engaged in polite small talk, exchanging pleasantries and discussing your respective professions. But as the night went on, you found yourself getting more and more restless, not being able to resist a strong pull towards him. And you wanted to see just how far you could push him.

"I must admit, I've been counting down the days until I could see you again," you began to subtly touch his arm as you spoke, leaning in close to him and letting your breath brush against his ear. You could feel the tension building between you, and you knew that Pierre was starting to feel it too. But he remained the perfect gentleman, maintaining his composure and not giving in to your advances.

"Well, I can't say I wasn't looking forward to tonight as well," he replied with a grin. "But I must warn you, cherie, that playing with fire can get you burned," Pierre's warning came out in a low voice, laced with a hint of danger that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by the challenge he presented, the thrill of the forbidden dancing between you like a flame begging to be ignited. You couldn't resist the challenge in his eyes as you leaned in even closer, the scent of his cologne enveloping you.

"I've never been one to shy away from a little heat," you murmured, your lips grazing his earlobe before pulling back slightly, a daring smile playing on your lips.

Pierre's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your bold words and actions, sending one last warning. But you were determined to crack him. You continued to flirt shamelessly, running your hand up and down his thigh under the table, planting soft kisses on his neck whenever you could. And slowly, but surely, the playful facade he'd been trying to maintain all night started to slip away.

"God, I wish we were at home so I could do some terrible things to you," he finally answered to all your provocations, his voice a whisper.

You smirked, satisfied, and whispered back, "What is stopping you from doing them now?"

You heard him suck in his breath, your words obviously hitting a nerve. You looked down and you had what to see.

"Are those pants too tight for you? Maybe you should consider a size up for next time." you put a hand over your mouth to try and suppress a chuckle.

"For god's sake, stop talking," he hissed, running his sweaty palms over his thighs.

"Or what? Wait, don't tell... Are you going to... punish me?" once again, you put a hand over your mouth and turned your head away.

He gritted your name and shifted in his seat, his leg bouncing up and hitting the table, making the silverware clatter. That finally drew attention to you.

"Is everything alright over there?" one of the attendees asked.

"Oh, yes! Perfectly fine!" you were quick to answer while Pierre was grumbling beside you. "I could have a bit more wine, please." you raised your half empty glass and gave them your most charming smile.

"Of course, ma'am," a waiter immediately reacted, refilling your glass with a knowing smile. As the attention shifted back to the rest of the table, you turned your focus back to Pierre, who was shooting you a death glare.

"I can't believe you," he seethed through gritted teeth, his frustration palpable. But beneath the anger in his eyes, there was a spark of something else.

You leaned in closer, your lips grazing his ear as you whispered, "You love it when I push your buttons, Pierre. Admit it."

His jaw clenched, but he couldn't deny the truth in your words.

"But oh well, since I am such a brat, I'll put myself in a time out and punish me myself," you exaggerated your sigh and took your purse. "I'll be in the restroom if you need me." you said, hoping he'll catch on the implication of your words.

Once in the ladies' room, you found yourself in front of a mirror, touching up on your makeup. Just when you were finishing your lipstick, you heard the door open and close behind you. Then you heard some rattling, presuming that the person who walked in blocked the entrance and you smirked to yourself. They approached you, wrapping their hands from behind and breathing in your scent.

"Took you long enough," you remarked, zipping up your handbang.

"Do you know how hard it was to get out of there without looking suspicious?" Pierre murmured between your neck and shoulder.

"Must be tough," you commented.

In response, he turned you around and kissed you hard on the lips. He pressed himself against you to the point where he had to lift you up and put you on the counter. You wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer and he gripped your knees and pulled you into him.

Time seemed to stand still as he kissed you, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth, their motions in rhythm with each other's breaths. You moaned softly, savouring his dominance. He knew exactly what you wanted, and how to give it to you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, feeling every muscle in his body tighten against yours.

"You ruined my lipstick," you said in between kisses.

"And you ruined my night," he replied back.

You smiled. "I thought I was making it."

He harshly pulled you down, spun you around and grabbed a handful of your hair so hard that you had to tilt your head back in reaction. You gasped out of thrill.

"You will, if you behave yourself." he gritted in your ear. "Starting now." he bent you forward, lifting your dress and caressing your bum. He wasn't doing much, but still you panted out of pleasure.

"And be quiet." he leaned to whisper, pressing himself against you, you could already feel he grew to his full potential. That made you roll your eyes back and arch your back a little.

You heard him grunt when your ass moved, but didn't let that distract him from his mission. He crouched down and spread your legs to his liking and ran his palms up and down the back of your thighs, stopping right under your ass, holding on the skin tightly.

"Damp. Pathetic." he spat, regarding your thong.

"And you're hard, how pathetic is that?" you dared to talk back.

That rewarded you with a hard slap on your ass cheek. You winced, but it was only turning you on more. Your skin burned with satisfaction and you felt he hit you so hard he left an imprint. But your body was begging for more. He rose up and pulled at your hair again.

"What did I say? Be. Quiet." he reminded. "Now, speak when spoken to, understand?" you laughed and moved your hips against him instead. He didn't seem to notice, or mind at the moment, but yanked your head back lightly. "I said, do you understand me?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir," you bit your lip.

"Bonne fille," he let go of your hair, looking down as if only now taking notice of you grinding on him and smirked. "Look at you. Can't even punish you, you're enjoying this." he steadied your movements with one hand and gripped your ass with the other. He was down on his knees again, this time pulling your panties down as well and spread your thighs open.

"Shit, your thighs are wet as well." he murmured and kissed their inner side, making his way up.

You held your breath not to make a sound. Just when he was reaching the point of your desire, he stopped and you breathed again. He then lightly ran his fingers over your center, your right leg twitched.

"Easy, baby," he chuckled. Yeah, easy for him to say. He's not the one getting teased the hell out of. His fingers pressed harder into you and your mouth hung open. You closed your eyes, trying not to think too much about it or you would scream.

"So already ready for me," he mused, slipping one finger inside. "You don't even need preparation." he fingered you with ease and you were helplessly trying to hold onto something, but there was nothing on the marble counter. You couldn't really control your body at that point and started moving on his finger on your own, but he didn't seem to like that.

"Don't move." he said once.

You couldn't stop, your body not your own. The pleasure was overwhelming and you felt the need to move, to find relief. He pushed his finger deep and curled it inside of you.

"Don't move or I'll stop." he repeated more sternly and grabbed your hips to steady them. He waited for you to calm down before rewarding you with another "good girl" and continuing to finger fuck you.

"Pierre..." you breathed, not caring if that's going to get you in trouble. Even better if so. "More," you demanded.

"More? Baby, I'm already two fingers deep in you. So needy." he shook his head and chuckled.

"What? Two?! When did the second—Oh my god." you didn't have time to gather your thoughts as you felt the third finger stretching you out and laid your head on the cool marble. You would've been a whining mess by now if you had been enabled, but for some reason you decided to obey his "be quiet" rule.

"Put your leg up for me, darling." but he already did it on his own and gave himself more access. Good, because you don't think you had any power to move. He used his other hand to draw circles on your clit. Jesus Christ. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you closed your eyes, panting.

"Are you close, baby?" he asked.

"Mhmm..." you whined.

"No, you're not." he pulled his fingers out and you saw him sucking on them in the reflection, moaning in satisfaction. That motherfucker. You watched him undo his belt and pants with just one hand with just one hand, the scene so hot it was enough to push you over the edge alone. But he did it so slowly, giving your high enough time to come down.

His cock sprung out of his boxers and god, was that a sight. He took it and brought it to your pussy, teasing you with his tip, dragging between your lips and over your clit. You straightened just enough to hold onto the edge of the counter while your head still hung low. He then teased you by putting his head in and out. You were growing more impatient and breathing became heavier and more audible. That seemed to amuse him.

"Is this what you want?" he removed all of your hair to your other shoulder and whispered in your ear while pressing his tip inside you once again.

"Yes," you muttered and he smirked.

"Beg."

Jesus. He removed himself.

"Please, Pierre..." you pleaded.

"Please what?" he grasped your hair and made you look at him.

"Please, fuck me." you could barely make him out from the haze over your eyes.

His smirk widened and he forced your head against the mirror before pushing his whole length inside you. You closed your yes and opened your mouth, but no sound came out. His strokes were deep and slow in the beginning, but he slowly picked up the pace and was pounding into you soon enough that your head hitting the mirror from the force. He fucked you so good you could cry. You did cry.

He tugged on your hair once again. "Look at yourself. I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you. Look what a slut you are. How gorgeous you are under me."

And you did. You really were. Your red lipstick was all over your chin, your eye makeup smudged, mascara running down your cheeks and hair all tangled. And he was breathtaking hammering into you. Your eyes met in the reflection and he smiled. You couldn't keep it in any longer and you softly moaned his name. He immediately stopped.

"What was that?" he asked. Fuck. You stayed quiet. "What the fuck did I say?"

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again." you panted, just wanting him to get on moving again.

He lowered your leg and put your legs together, starting to thrust again. God, it felt so good. So good that your body got out of your own control again. You started shaking and trembling all over. You were biting into your lower lip so hard you could taste your own blood in your mouth. If it wasn't for that counter and him supporting you, you'd be down on the floor. That's when you let out a very loud moan against your will. Your hands immediately went over your mouth, but it was already too late. He pulled his cock out.

"Oh, please, put it back in..." you whimpered.

He grabbed you. "How many times have I had to scold you tonight, hm?" you stayed silent. "Answer me!" he shook you.

"Many," you breathed, leaning against him.

"That's right, many. And if you keep disobeying me like this, not only will I not put it back in, I will not make you cum either. Do you hear me?" he hissed.

"Yes, sir." you replied.

He took you by your jaw, turned your head to face him and kissed you. "Je t'adore tellement."

You couldn't answer him, but you nodded your head and kissed him back. He slipped it back in and your hand went over your mouth to suppress any sounds. He chuckled.

"I'll do it for you, love." he pushed your hand away and replaced it with his own. You rolled your eyes back and just let go while he hammered into you.

"Shit, you're getting tighter," he hissed. "Open your mouth for me." you obeyed and sucked on his fingers, soaking them with your saliva. He removed them and circled his arm around your legs to your clit to add extra pleasure to your reaching orgasm.

"Come on, baby, cum for me," he encouraged.

"I... I can't..." you gasped.

"Yes, you can, baby. Come on, do it."

"A little more..." you cried. "Please."

He grunted, but rocked his hips a little harder and fastened his movements on your sensitive bud.

"Come on now, baby. Cum on my cock." he gritted.

And so you did. You were finally able to let go with a suppressed cry. But then he leaned forward and said, "I want to hear you when you cum."

And with his permission, you let out a long needed moan while he still moved in and out of you.

"Atta girl." he kissed your naked shoulder. "Come here now, princess, get on your knees."

He pulled out of you and you kneeled. He towered over you with his cock in your face, jerking himself off slowly.

"Can you do it?" he asked.

You nodded and wrapped your hand around him. You gave him a few pumps before leaning forward and kissing the tip. You felt him shiver and whisper "oh my god" under his breath. You kissed his whole length and slid your tongue over it too. You sucked on the head, circling your head around it before taking the rest of it in. The tears stung at the back of your eyes when you went to take him whole.

"Jesus, baby." he breathed.

You let go and took much needed breath, but still kept close. He caressed your face, pushing your hair back.

"Look how gorgeous you are sucking on my cock. Your lips so plump and makeup all over your face. You look so pretty when I ruin you." he praised, the whole time you were looking at him with your big eyes.

You opened your mouth to take him again, slowly a first, bobbing your head back and forth, relaxing your throat to open enough for him. He kept on going how amazing you were doing, how good you were for him when you grabbed onto his thighs for support and pushed your head all the way down, digging your nails into his skin.

"Oh, shit, baby..." his voice was shaky. "I'm going to cum in your mouth." he stated.

You backed away a little and nodded. He started grunting, hissing and panting more often, indicating he was getting closer and closer. You began working him a little faster, helping him reach his sweet release. And soon enough, hot liquid oozed on your tongue while he gasped. You looked up at him and swallowed.

"Show me your tongue." he touched a side of your face and you stuck your tongue out, making him smile. "Good girl." he bent down and kissed you.

You stood up and fixed your dress, looking for your panties. You spotted them near the sink and reached to grab them, but Pierre was faster.

"Hey, give them back."

"Oh yeah, these are mine now." he said and put them in his pocket.

"Pierre, give me back my panties!"

"Nope." he already made his way towards the door.

"Come on, I can't just go back there without my underwear in this dress." you reasoned, your voice laced with frustration and annoyance.

"Hm, maybe you should've thought about that before you decided to fuck me in the restroom." he closed the door, leaving you alone with your mess.

[pucksandpower]

Pierre Gasly x girlfriend!Reader - Instagram AU

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and 247,356 others

yourusername step one: whisk him away

View all 815 comments

pierregasly will you please tell me where we’re going?

yourusername just like the last FIFTY times you asked me: no

charles_leclerc look at who’s being all romantic

yourusername one more word and i’ll tell everyone that you cried while watching the notebook with us

charles_leclerc didn’t you just tell them???

yourusername oops … anyway 🥱

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, and 251,893 others

yourusername step two: get him flowers (because men like flowers too)

View all 902 comments

pierregasly i now get the hype

yourusername i’ll have to get you flowers more often

pairofpierres this is so wholesome 🥺

paddockgirlie taking notes from the queen herself for my next relationship 📝

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, alpinef1team, and 258,634 others

yourusername step three: fill your entire camera roll with photos of him being adorable

View all 931 comments

pierregasly draw me like one of your french girls? more like sculpt me like one of your french boys

yourusername okay but only if i get to do the sculpting

alpinef1team quality pierre content 🤩

yourusername if you ever want to hire someone to be his full-time photographer, i basically do that job already

yourusername

Liked by pierregasly, f1wagupdates, and 267,498 others

yourusername step four: surprise him with a birthday dinner

View all 946 comments

pierregasly best birthday ever

yourusername anything for you, mon amour

yukitsunoda0511 the cake was so good

yourusername thank you! i made it myself

yukitsunoda0511 really?

yourusername no, i quickly learned that i can’t bake to save my life

pierregasly

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 681,497 others

pierregasly step five: thank her repeatedly for an amazing birthday

View all 2,135 comments

yourusername you deserve it and more ❤️

pierregasly your love is the greatest gift i could ask for

charles_leclerc i love you guys but spending too much time around you being all obsessed with each other makes me need a root canal

pierregasly sounds like a you problem

pompompierre my actual parents

[violetszone]

Wrong Post (Instagram au)

Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

From this request

a/n:I do not know what I did

~post unavailable~

[thatsdemko]

the art of attraction (it’s always been you) - p.gasly

masterlist

pairings: Pierre gasly x leclerc!fem!reader

warnings: fluff + some inaccuracies of Pierre and Charles careers + some angst

note: when I do “—“ to break the scene the next scene in this instance is rather not the next day or later that evening(unless specified).

summary: the story of how Pierre and y/n leclerc fall in love.

a/n: just something to lighten the mood❤️

AGE 5 & 7

maybe that’s when you knew.

when he covered your ears while your parents swore at each other, their voices rising with anger and he slipped into your bedroom to distract you and Arthur from the argument downstairs.

you could smell is freshly shampooed hair from behind you, you could hear his heart beating against his chest as he shushed any worries down your throat.

the concerns wash away as you sink against his chest, the words finally died down and his hands come off from over your ears, “Qu'est-ce que tu as entendu?” he asks in concern that you didn’t pick up any new vocabulary that you shouldn’t of heard. pierre was used to it by now with karting, but you were three years younger than him, and you definitely shouldn’t of heard what you did. what did you hear

“nothing.” you lie knowing that’ll satisfy him. he moves from behind you so you can look him in his eyes. his beautiful ocean blue eyes that you could drown yourself in.

“you pinky promise you didn’t hear?”

“I pinky promise.”

when your pinky’s interlace you could feel the electric waves, you could feel your heart pace increase, eyes growing with hopefulness that maybe he feels it too.

“come on, cherie let’s go find Charles.”

and just like that, your hope was gone. but it started a fire inside your chest and butterflies to form. nothing about Pierre gasly would ever be the same to you.

AGE 7 & 9

the most important day of the year for you was always overlooked; your birthday. it end up typically being on a Sunday or a race weekend, which meant the whole family’s focus was on Charles or Arthur and never on you.

you’d pout and fuss about no presents, birthday cakes, or well wishes from family members. but there was one person who was determined to make your birthday matter. Pierre.

“there she is!” his mother, also named pascale, beams with excitement seeing you in the stands to cheer on your big brother, Charles, and of course her son, Pierre.

“just a little gift for the birthday girl, it’s from all of us.” she presses a soft kiss to your cheek handing you the tiny pink bag with tissue paper falling out of the top. you thank her for her generosity and wait to open the gift until after the race. it was common curtesy, but you knew your own mother wouldn’t be pleased for you to spoil the joy for Charles.

it was yet another birthday spent in an hour of boredom and wishing for something better.

this was the time your mind would race of imagination. the world of delusion was limitless, and most of the time you wished of Pierre. you wished for Pierre to be the one to hand you the birthday gift instead of his mother, or wishing for Pierre to kiss you after his race. your mind never seemed to leave the Frenchman out of your fantasies.

—

“p1! congratulations.” you’re lost in the sea of family members and friends, but he finds you first. you cant help but wonder if you stuck out like a sore thumb or just someone he so desperately wanted to see after his win.

“happy birthday.” he engulfs you in a tight hug, you can smell the sweat and lingering scent of his shampoo that takes you back to two years ago when he held you against him.

you close your eyes and enjoy the moment before it’s taken from you. he’s ripped off of your body by Charles, who’s now congratulating him. a frown forms to your lips as you look down at the pink paper bag that was crumpled against his body. somehow it hurts that the only thing you wanted was something you couldn’t have. it couldn’t be wrapped a tiny bag.

but his hug was better than the silver pendant necklace that you knew he and his mother picked out.

it was the one you eyed summers ago at the antique store in southern France. he watched your big eyes shine under the jewelry’s beauty, and you knew it was Pierre who forced his mother to go back.

maybe it wasn’t such a bad birthday after all.

AGE 10 & 12

“you don’t want to swim?”

his brown wet hair drips over his eyes, he takes his hand and pushes the locks back so he can see you straight. you’re in your tankini(a horrible fashion choice as you look back on it) sitting in the lounge chair pretending to be interested in the gossip magazine in front of you.

“not up for it.” you shrug your shoulders and look back at the gossip of brad Pitt and Angelina, two people you could care less about. because right now, you’re chewing the inside of your cheek watching a new girl swim laps with your brothers and Pierre.

she was a girl from school. of course she was, and she had long blonde hair and was wearing bikinis because her chest has developed. you hoped she couldn’t see you glaring at her from underneath your sunglasses as she plays basketball with the boys in the pool. you were trying very hard to be different in hopes that maybe Pierre would notice you and forget about the blonde girl. of course your attempts failed when it was Arthur who swam up to you.

“what? you always want to swim.” Pierre’s shocked, it took your parents hours to get you out of the pool you loved it so much. he was wondering what had changed since last summer.

“she’s in some weird phase leave her alone.” Lorenzo grumbles at your attitude. the boys go back to playing the pool while you attempt to wrinkle under the sun, except every time she laughed you had to make sure it wasn’t at something he said.

this was the part that hurt while being in love, is trying to be okay with them finding someone else.

AGE 13 & 15

it’d been months since he’d last seen you. karting was taking him to new places that he hadn’t been home in forever. he was beginning to forget the smell of the salty oceans, the sound of the seagulls in the morning, and you. all this time away from home, he found himself itching for you.

when he heard the sound of the car door slamming and the mixed chatter coming from the front door, he could feel the sense of belonging again. all that time away, it changed him, and he wondered if it had changed you.

the front door clicks open and Pierre looks away from the television. he watches your family members pile in one by one, he sits in an anticipation that’ll you show, and when you do it doesn’t disappoint him.

your hairs a bit shorter from the last time, your legs are tanner, and you’re wearing mascara, but nothing about you changed. the smile when he made a joke, the shyness you got around him, it all was the same.

it’s his turn to feel the butterflies when he looks at you. and this time when he looks at you, and when your eyes connect you actually feel it radiating off of him.

he was in love.

—

“mind if I join you?” he steps up into the attic. it was a place you five used to play in when you were kids. it wasn’t safe, as there were many holes in the flooring, but it became your quiet place when you needed time alone.

you look over your shoulder to see he has a peace offering, a tiny glass of limoncello that he stole from downstairs.

a smile is brought to your lips as you motion for him to come closer, “you didn’t have to steal to come here.” you chuckle taking the plastic cup from him while he situates himself beside you.

“well you could’ve turned me down. I needed a plan to make you want me to stay.” he nudges his shoulder into yours and watches you swallow the liquor with a bitter face.

he laughs and it’s like music to your ears. you can feel the little hairs in your ears stand up, the chill run down your spine, and the familiar swarm of butterflies in your stomach. it was too easy for him to make you feel this way.

“awful?”

“horrible actually.” you choke out setting the cup on the ledge. you swore you could’ve thrown up then, but everything in you stops when you feel his knuckles against your chest.

“you still wear this?” he holds the the necklace charm against his palm, a soft smile forming against his lips. all you can do is nod. he took the words right out of you as his blue eyes flicker upwards towards you.

“I think I have a birthday gift that might top this one.” he lets go of the charm and finally you can breathe again. you feel your muscles relax as you touch the charm that was once in his hand.

“what do you have in mind?”

“close your eyes and I’ll show you.”

you’d never obeyed faster. your eye’s immediately shut. you could feel the world around you spinning with anticipation as you wait for his whatever it is.

you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body, he must’ve moved closer. his palm rests against your cheek and before you know it his lips are pressed against yours. the kiss is soft and gentle, but his lips fit like a glove. you can feel the sparks, they warm your bodies up as you move closer to him with the exact same energy kissing him back.

“hold on,” Pierre whispers, pulling away. he watches your eyes flutter open in utter confusion, “that was really good.” he whispers, chest visibly rising and falling as you just took the air right out of him.

“but?”

“we’re just kids, y/n. maybe some other time, I just don’t think we should date yet.”

AGE 15 & 17

your first everything was Pierre. at fifteen there wasn’t much you needed to experience besides a crush and kiss, but lately you had noticed high school moved at a much different pace.

half the girls you were friends with had already had sex, boyfriends, or multiple kisses, but you still clung onto that one evening when Pierre not only kissed you but then ripped a bandaid right off your wound. that night still hurt.

and while you were encouraged to move on and find other boys, nobody compared to the beautiful Frenchman.

you’d experimented with other boys, which meant fooling around making out and an occasional nude photos, but your mind never stopped going back to Pierre. no matter how much he had hurt you that night, you still wanted to experience something more than a kiss with him.

it was one sided though, as Pierre had began dating a girl a year older than you and she’d shown up to many of his races. you’d thought you’d have moved on, but that was until it was the first birthday where Pierre had no gift for you. that was when you realized you still really cared about him.

“just move on from him.” your dear friend whispered into your ear as you watch the two walk hand in hand to the track. you could’ve sworn you were about to be sick to your stomach.

“I can’t.” you whisper back pulling your knees into your chest, you watch her pepper his face with kisses, “I need to leave.” you stand up from your spot in the stands and climb down the steps, you brush past the two and for the first time you don’t even look over your shoulder to see if he’s watching, but he is.

—

“you don’t wear my necklace anymore?”

your neck looks bare under the dim lighting of the attic. he wonders when the last time you wore it was, because he hadn’t noticed the last time that it was gone.

“why do you care?” you snap taking a sip of beer from your red solo cup, the contents make the sour look against your face contort, and it makes him laugh. that damn laugh. you could curse him for finding this moment funny, because all thoughts you had cleared of him come running back.

“because you loved that necklace.”

“have you thought about that maybe the guy who gave it to me was an asshole?” you raise your eyebrow and watch the little smile across his lips vanish. he knows exactly what you’re referring to. the night when you were thirteen, he shot you down. he could never forget the look on your face and how you cried into Lorenzo’s arms. the look on the elder leclerc’s face was enough to scare him off.

“I was an asshole, but I’m your asshole.”

the words started that fire you sure was burnt. you could feel the flames ignite in your stomach as you push yourself closer to his body, you can thank the alcohol for that.

“in order for you to be mine, you have to ask me.” you rest your hand against his chest, you can feel the beat of his heart quicken under your palm.

his hand finds your hip, he licks his lips, “I don’t think I need to ask when I know the answer.”

“just ask me, asshole.” you grit through your teeth, he throws his head back laughing and says something in French that you can’t make out.

“y/n leclerc, will you be my girlfriend?”

“yes.”

AGE 17 & 19

the pendant necklace, a beautiful silver promise ring, and silver dangly earrings are the gifts you couldn’t take off even if you wanted to.

he’d made up for the lost time of traveling in Monaco for karting and his transitions into f3. Charles had tagged along, the two still conjoined at the hip despite the new relationship that had unfolded between families.

“you like them?” he asks watching you fiddle with the silver hoops he’d picked out with his first sponsor paycheck. he promises once he can afford it, Tiffany diamonds is all you’ll ever know.

“like them?” you turn to face him from your vanity, “my Pierre,” you get up from the chair and press a kiss to his lips, “I love them.”

he chuckles against your lips, you can feel the vibration run down your body, “good.”

your friends had told you his gift giving was excessive, but you couldn’t have been happier. he made time for you, now with an income he could fly from France to Monaco to visit you for holidays and birthdays, but it did mean he spent a lot more time in the cars than he did with you.

“will you be at the track tonight? I can’t race without you.” his fingers brush your hair back behind your ear, he pulls you into his lap, “I need my good luck charm.” he presses a kiss against your lips.

it’s your turn to giggle against his lips, “you’re awfully needy today.” you say wrapping your arms around his neck, “but I wouldn’t miss a race, p. I’ll be there for you.”

“what about me?! I exist too you know!”

“shut up, Charles!”

AGE 18 & 20

he missed it.

you couldn’t believe it. he missed your birthday for the first time since dating.

you waited by your phone for hours that day. it was one of your very first birthdays where it wasn’t surrounded by karting and formula 1, it was a birthday that everyone was free as a bird and he missed it.

“I’m sorry, Cherie.” Charles peers into your bedroom, a visible frown against his lips, “I really thought he’d call.”

“it’s fine, cha.” you brush him off, but he knows better. he sees the sadness in your eyes that he didn’t call.

“it’s not fine, y/n. he’s your boyfriend now, he’s supposed to remember stuff like this.” Charles comes into your bedroom, he takes a seat at the end of your bed, “next race, I’m going to push him off the track.”

“don’t jeopardize your race for his mistakes, Charles. just play fair.”

“well he’s going to get something don’t you worry.”

AGE 19 & 21

he barely called anymore. life was shaping him into becoming a formula 1 driver and he just never gave you the time anymore.

you’d moved out of your parents house and into a small studio apartment in Monaco that overlooked the hairpin of the infamous Monaco circuit. you’d be able to see his car one day drive that turn and maybe bring home a victory. but right now, Red Bull was taking your love away from you.

the phone on your nightstand finally rings. it’s a miracle that after all that praying he calls. it’d been over two weeks since you’d heard his beautiful voice.

“bonjour,” you say almost instantly when you pick up the call. you can hear the chatter in the background, it must’ve been a mistake, a butt dial perhaps. but you stay on the call in case.

“y/n, you there?”

“yeah I’m here.” you say turning away from your homework that desperately needed your attention, but the man on the phone sounded unfamiliar to you. you knew it was him, but something had changed.

“hey, I’m sorry I have to cancel dinner plans.” he says, the chatter is still on going. was he really doing this now? in front of his team?

“that’s fine.” you exhale a deep long sigh that might’ve been over dramatic, but you were annoyed. it was another dinner you had planned that you would be eating alone.

“what’s wrong?” he shush’s whoever was talking so he can hear you better.

“nothing, Pierre, it’s just I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”

“I’m sorry, you know that right? it’s just training and simulators, I need to focus.”

you sigh. this really is it, huh? becoming best friends with his voicemail box and eating shitty dinners alone. you couldn’t do it any longer. you couldn’t believe this would be the thing that would tear you apart. you could’ve sworn once you were together, there would be no stopping your love. but it turns out formula 1 had its own plan in the making of your relationship.

“well let me help you focus even more, because we’re done.”

AGE 21 & 23

he was driving the cars he’s always dreamed of doing so. he finally was in formula 1. this day couldn’t be better, but maybe it could. after seeing you arrive with Charles for his start at Alfa Romeo, the pang of regret and guilt stings his chest.

he’s reminded of the days and nights he didn’t call, the anniversaries he missed, the celebrations he should’ve been at, but the days he missed were the reason he got the seat in the first place. it came with a hefty emotional price.

but seeing you in the paddock surrounded by his family, and your family, he couldn’t believe what a fuck up he was. it shouldn’t be like this, and he knows it.

“good luck out there, sweetheart.” your mother wraps him in a tight hug, it looks like he’s held hostage, but you believe he deserves it. he put you through an emotional rollercoaster that you’re happy to be off of, but a girl never stops loving her first crush.

because while you should be angry at him, your heart still goes putty over him. your heart still beats to his rhythm despite the torture he put you through. you couldn’t calm yourself down when you looked over at him, his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, his jawline covered in stubby hairs. he looked much better than you did.

he gets podium. his first formula 1 podium and the radio conversation is still buzzing in your ears. he took the time to thank not only his family, but you. it had to have been you, he called you his good luck charm, and you knew it was you by the way his mothers eyes beamed under the sunlight.

you attempt to look anywhere that’s not him. your eyes try to concentrate on Lewis Hamilton and his beautiful tattooed hands as they grasp the lip of the bottle, and just as your eyes were finally settled on him, you felt the spritz of champagne against your skin.

your eyes find the man who’s leaning over the edge with a bottle of champagne pointed towards the crowd. his blue eyes search the sea of fans and team members until he finds you, your body is squished against the barricade front and center.

even if you wanted to hide from him and become just another fan lost in the crowd, you couldn’t. your heart always pulled you towards him even if it broke every vessel in your body.

he moves down the podium steps, you could feel your heart against your chest. he had the capability of doing this, after not speaking for nearly years he had the ability to start a fire in you with just a blink of an eye.

you watch it happen in slow motion. he moves across the barricade allowing fans and other team members pat his shoulder and chest with encouraging words to boost his ego. the smile on his face is irreplaceable, his cheeks are red from the sweat, tears, and discomfort of his own grin, but he can’t pull it off. he’s inches away from you, allowing his mother to hug him and kiss his champagne flavored cheek, he allows Charles to pat him on the back, and finally it was your turn.

you can feel the bodies against your back pushing you into the metal trying to get as close as they could to him. their hands touch his chest, shoulder, or anything they could grab onto as he leans in and smashes his lips against yours.

your fingers pull his face closer to you, as you kiss him with all of your might like the world was going to end if you didn’t. the cheering and whistling becomes background noise as he pulls away from your lips, resting his forehead against yours, “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you so much more, Pierre.”

—

“for you, I’m going to try and make this right.” he whispers, the words stuck against your sweaty skin, kisses peppered against your shoulders, “you’re my endgame. I believe it.”

heat spreads across your face as you attempt to burry your head into his chest, “I want to be your endgame.” you say curling into his body, your ear is pressed against his chest, you can hear his heart pounding against its cavity.

closing your eyes and then opening them, you try to make sure that this is real. the boy you once dreamed of having was fast asleep underneath you, small snores escape his lips, you can’t believe he’s yours again. lost, found, lost again, and then found once more.

this was a love only ever written in novels.

AGE 25 & 27 (NOW)

“I thought I’d find you up here.” he says reaching the final step into the attic. he’s tall enough now that his head nearly hits the roof, he has to crouch to make his way over to where you sit looking out the window of the house.

“where else would I be?” you turn to him, a chuckle escaping your lips as his head bumps right into the roof before he sits down across from you.

“everyone’s waiting for us.” he takes your hand in his, thumb caressing your knuckles. you look up into his eyes, he looks handsome today. in fact, he looks handsome every day but he looks even better in his tuxedo with a crooked flower pinned to the jacket.

“they can wait a little longer.” you carefully move onto his thigh leaning your back into his chest, “I just want to be with you. alone.”

he hums in response, and just wraps his arms around yours. you rest your head back against his shoulder and suddenly it’s like your five again. the smell of his shampoo is a little faint from the cologne, but when you inhale once again there it is.

“you ready, mrs.gasly?”

“I’m ready, mr.gasly. take me home.”

I'll follow you into the park

Through the jungle, through the dark

Girl, I never loved one like you

That's true, laugh until we think we'll die

Barefoot on a summer night

Never could be sweeter than with you

And in the streets you run a-free

Like it's only you and me

Geez, you're something to see

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog

[nataliawrites]

I keep thinking about Pierre Gasly and a shy reader who likes to read and paint. While he's the complete opposite of a party boy

Opposites Attract // Pierre Gasly

Four times your friends thought your relationship was doomed to fail and one time they finally understood otherwise.

One

A group of sweaty men made their way out of the grinding crowd on the dance floor and, with a lack of grace lending itself to plenty of drinks and the leftover adrenaline of a Grand Prix, shakily made their way up the stairs to the VIP area.

Among them, sprawled lazily in the extended booth they now occupied, a certain Monégasque turns to his best friend like a gossiping school girl, “that blonde was totally into you.”

The French best friend in question raises an eyebrow, “well I totally wasn’t into her.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Pierre?”

“I’m still me, Charles.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Up until a few months ago you would’ve never turned down someone as ehm well endowed as her.”

Pierre rolls his eyes, “up until a few months ago I wasn’t in a loving relationship.”

“A loving relationship in which your girlfriend stays in your hotel room while you party all night long?”

“What does it matter? Y/N gets anxious and this isn’t really her scene. She knows I would never do anything to hurt her or our relationship and she trusts me.”

“She should be here supporting you.”

“She does support me. Tirelessly. And I do the same in return by making sure she’s not forced into situations that make her uncomfortable.”

When they return to their hotel in the early hours of the morning, fairing none too well after a night of endless partying, Charles can’t help but peak into the suite that Pierre and you were sharing after Pierre was too drunk to properly shut the door.

You were still up despite the ridiculously late hour and reading a lengthy book using the warm light of a lamp on your nightstand.

Charles watches through the crack as you carefully mark your place in the novel and get out of bed to greet your inebriated boyfriend.

“Hi, Pear.”

Pierre leans in to give you a messy kiss, missing your lips almost entirely, “hello, mon coeur. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love. There’s some painkillers and water by your toothbrush. And I put your boxers by the clean towels for after you shower quickly.”

“I need help.”

“Help with what?”

“Help me shower,” Pierre whines softly, “pleeeeeaaaasssseee.”

“Okay, you big baby. Let’s get you washed.”

Charles hurriedly shut the door when Pierre went to drop his pants.

Two

You paced up and down the gallery, hands linked in front of you to stop their shaking … mostly. It was your first public art exhibition and the tremendous milestone meant stepping far outside your comfort zone and into a social setting to show off your hard work.

Your eyes ran over the paintings carefully hanging on the walls for the hundredth time. They were perfect. The result of pouring your entire soul into the images that flowed from your hands and onto the canvas. Everything would be perfect. Almost everything, that is.

“How sucky that your boyfriend couldn’t be here for you.”

You turn around to face a classmate and friend from art school, “it’s not his fault. He has a job to do.”

Your boyfriend of nearly a year was going to have to miss the exhibition not matter how much you knew he wished he could be here to support you. But Formula 1 waits for no one and he was stuck on the other side of the world among the chaos that came with a race weekend.

“I’m just saying,” she throws her hands up defensively, “what about his job as your boyfriend?”

“Pierre does that daily, thank you for your concern. His attention to me whenever he isn’t actively working more than makes up for the time he dedicates to racing.”

You move to turn back around but stop and about-face, “and his dedication and passion to that part of his life are part of the reason I love him.” Then you finally spin on your heel and go back to surveying your work for any imperfections.

You were broken out of your thoughts as the curator lightly tapped your shoulder, having been ignored when she quietly called your name while you were lost in your own head.

“Miss Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. Shall I tell them to bring it in?”

A delivery? You were fairly certain you didn’t order anything though with how anxious you were as the exhibition approached, maybe you did and just forgot about it.

“Of course! So sorry. They can put it down wherever there’s space.”

You watch in shock as courier after courier after courier after courier filed their way into the gallery and places overflowing vases of every flower under the sun on the floor before going back outside and returning with even more bouquets.

When you can barely see the tile floors and the gallery looks more like a botanical garden than a low-key space to showcase art, one of the couriers approaches you and hands you a card.

I wish I could be there celebrating your achievements with you. I am so incredibly proud of you and all that you’ve managed to do. I will be carrying a little bit of you with me when I race tonight.

Love you always,

PG

You can’t stop the tears that threaten to overflow when you spot the small photo of a print of your favorite painting tucked carefully into his helmet that was taped to the card.

Your classmate makes her way into the atrium again, “Five minutes till showtime! Oh my god? Who robbed a florist.”

“No robbing,” you laugh, “just Pierre being Pierre.”

Three

Pierre excitedly opens the door to welcome his friends from around the grid into his Milan apartment for their annual visit after the Italian Grand Prix.

“Hey, guys! Come in. Y/N just went to the market to quickly get some fresh fruit.”

The group of drivers files into the foyer and stop just short of smacking into each other as they stop and take in the apartment around them.

When Pierre bought the apartment a few years ago, he immediately hired a top interior designer to take care of all the decorating. Since then, the place he called home was sleek and modern and even whiter than his AlphaTauri race suit. Nothing like the apartment his friends were currently staring at with open mouths.

This apartment was a controlled chaos of colors that should not have gone together but somehow did. The walls were lined with paintings and photographs and little hanging plants that the interior designer would have fainted at. The ceiling of the entry way had a rather impressive recreation of the Sistine Chapel ceiling … with cats instead of humans.

“This is … wow.”

“I know! Isn’t it amazing? Y/N did it all herself after she finally moved in,” Pierre gushed.

“It’s definitely unique.”

“It just feels so much more like home, you know? It took a while for her to finally believe me when I told her I wanted her to redecorate but now we both love spending time here whenever we can.”

The boys exchange wide-eyed glances as Pierre rambles on and on about all of the changes that you made. What happened to the luxurious party boy who barely remembered the names of the women that graced his bed? Since when did Pierre Gasly spend five minutes describing how you painstakingly crocheted a throw blanket to perfectly match your new couch? The mark you made on him was becoming just as clear as the mark you made on his your home.

Four

It was cruel, really. With Pierre’s home Grand Prix being left off the schedule, you had promised to join him in Austin instead. Art school was relatively flexible and you didn’t anticipate any issues taking a week off to fly to Texas.

Until a teacher suddenly announced a project that had to be completed in class during the week you were meant to be at the United States Grand Prix.

You tried to hide a sniffle as you explain that you won’t be able to support him in person to Pierre over the phone during your lunch break. You stare at your salad, pushing the greens around as any appetite escaped you.

“It’s not worth your tears, mon coeur,” Pierre’s soothing accent cracks through your speaker. “Do not even worry about it. I promise that I will take care of everything.”

You see your classmate drop into the seat next to you and wave as you finish your conversation with Pierre.

“Hi! What’s-”

“Were you seriously planning to miss a week of school to go on vacation with your boyfriend?”

“It’s not exactly a vacation.”

Your friend rolls his eyes, “Semantics. You were going to fly halfway across the world and miss a week’s worth of classes for him. He’s been a bad influence on you. You would have never dreamed about skipping even a day of class before you got together with him.”

“Being in a relationship has made me reevaluate my priorities,” you explain. “Don’t get me wrong — I love art and school is important but nothing beats being there for the people you love.”

“Whatever,” he sighs, “no use talking about it now. There’s no way you’re getting out of doing the project to go on your trip. Might as well cancel your tickets now.”

“Pierre said he’ll take care of the class so I’m not giving up hope yet.”

“Right … the second you get excused from the project is the second that pigs fly.”

You didn’t know which of you was more shocked when your boyfriend walked into the room like he owned it halfway through class the next day. He beelined towards your teacher with a purpose and you tore your attention away from the unfinished painting in front of you to watch as they talked. You can’t make out what they’re saying but see Pierre gesturing towards you and then slipping an envelope into your teacher’s hands when he gets a nod. They shake hands and Pierre makes his way to you.

He pecks your lips as your classmates’ eyes all turn to you, “Done. You’ll have an extra week to finish the project under supervision when you get back from America.”

“No way! How?”

“All it took was two paddock passes to Imola next season.”

“You’re actually the best, Pear. I love you so much.”

“Not more than I love you.” He turned to leave, “I’ll pick you up for dinner later?”

“Can’t wait, love.”

As the class dispersed an hour later, you couldn’t help bumping into your friend, “guess pigs learned to fly, huh?”

+ One

It wasn’t until the following season that his friends finally realized that you and Pierre were meant to be. You flew out to Belgium with him, knowing that Spa was especially hard for him emotionally and wanting to be there for your boyfriend. The morning of race day, you joined Pierre and the rest of the grid as they went to pay respects to Anthoine Hubert. You watched as various drivers left flowers and cards and stepped forward after they were done.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know that I never met Anthoine but I feel like I know him through all the stories Pierre tells and wanted to leave something to honor him too,” you pull a canvas out of your tote and kneel down to place it against the fence.

There’s silence as the men around you take in the portrait of a smiling Anthoine that you left among the flowers and wreaths.

Pierre pulls you in for a hug and you hold him tight as you feel your shoulder grow wet from his tears, “thank you, mon coeur. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Pierre’s friends take in the sight of the two of you lost in your embrace. Maybe you’re not who they imagined Pierre would end up with but turns out that you’re exactly what he needs.

[f1letters]

you're on your own, kid | pg10

"I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what she thought was the best night of her life, she came to the realization that she was nothing but one more girl on his list

warning: angst, childhood best friends, toxic fuckboy pierre, mentions of bullying as a little kid, friend zone, one-night stand, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of feeling used, emotional dependence, heartbreak, miscommunication trope, platonic!reader x charles leclerc

pairing: pierre gasly x reader

word count: 4.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts.

whoever guessed 'you're on your own, kid'... CONGRATS!! this one is for you! haha I hope you guys like this one, it's the longest story I've written so far but this is such a special song to me and I tried my best to do it justice! enjoy!

masterlist

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

I play it cool with the best of them

I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me

It's okay, we're the best of friends

Anyway

For as long as Y/N could remember, she had been completely and madly in love with her best friend.

Pierre and Y/N became an inseparable duo from the moment they met as two little kids trying out for their primary school's football team.

At the time, the other boys tried to make fun of the little girl for wanting to be a part of a "boys' sport", as they called it. Being the only girl there, she was made the target of all the bullying, but when she was about to give in and give up, her hero appeared in the form of 6-year-old Pierre who defended her with everything he had.

Y/N looked at the tiny French boy with wide, sparkling eyes as he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze so she wouldn't feel alone.

From there, the two immediately became best friends and that's how they stayed throughout the years.

But at some point in time, the girl found herself getting butterflies when she was in Pierre's presence, imagining what it would be like to have his lips against hers, idealizing a life where the two would be together as more than just friends.

It was inevitable. Pierre emanated such a powerful energy that it consumed her head and dominated all her senses.

He was like a drug: addictive, impossible to give up and she depended on him for survival - almost as if he was oxygen.

And so it was with so many other girls, victims of the driver's charm, although his playboy fame followed him everywhere since he was a teenager.

And it hurt. It hurt too much.

All those years, Y/N had no choice but to fake a smile and nod as she listened to the Frenchman brag about all his latest conquests, all the models, actresses and singers he got involved with all over the world. 

She had no choice but to wait patiently for him to notice her and for him to finally see them as more than the best of friends.

I hear it in your voice, you're smoking with your boys

I touch my phone as if it's your face

I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out

There's just one who could make me stay

All my days

To be honest, Y/N was already starting to accept that nothing would ever happen between them.

So, the girl chose to distance herself from her friend a little, in an attempt to let her romantic feelings for him fade over time.

She used every excuse in the book to avoid him: I'm tired, I have other plans, I'm working late, I'm sick, I had a family emergency. All of the excuses in the world were used.

Until the day when there were no more excuses and she ended up having to give in, arranging a movie night with the man, as they frequently did over their friendship of nearly two decades.

Y/N arrived at Pierre's luxury apartment in Milan on time as she always did. For a second, she hesitated to knock on the door, letting her anxiety take over, and almost decided to flee in the opposite direction. But as if the driver read her thoughts, the Frenchman appeared from inside his house, seeing his best friend, frozen on top of his black 'welcome' mat.

"Hey! I thought I heard someone coming!" Pierre said excitedly as he gave the girl a short hug. "What are you waiting for? Come in, make yourself comfortable!"

Y/N took off her long coat, hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway, and followed Pierre into his living room, where she saw everything prepared for their movie session. Pillows scattered across the living room floor, two warm blankets crumpled on the couch and two buckets full of popcorn, the smell of which had entered her nose from the moment she set foot inside the apartment.

The familiar image of the boy sitting on his soft carpet made her body relax, and she took the seat next to him while he searched for a movie on his Netflix account. After the two agreed to watch a horror movie, both of them big fans of the genre, the two leaned back against the bottom of the sofa and directed their attention to the screen.

The minutes passed and the two remained in a comfortable silence, commenting from time to time on some of the moments in the film. 

Pierre was now closer to the girl's side and the heat he radiated seemed to almost burn her with the tension that appeared to have settled in her room.

Out of nowhere, Y/N felt something cold on her thigh and thought she was daydreaming when she realized it was her best friend's hand. The girl didn't react, fearing that the words coming out of her mouth would be the wrong ones.

She couldn't help but notice how the driver seemed to be studying her every move, out of the corner of his eye, like a predator looking for prey to attack. 

It was a look she had seen on his face more times than she could count. But never directed at her.

His hand began to move slowly up her soft thigh towards the warm spot between her legs, testing the waters and seeing how far she allowed him to go. His calculated movement was stopped abruptly when she caught his wrist before he reached his intended destination.

"Pierre, what are you doing?" Y/N asked, turning her flushed face towards him.

The boy was mere inches away from her, a smirk plastered across his face and without any sign of regret or embarrassment at having been caught making his risky move. "Y/N, don't lie to me. I've seen the way you look at me. The way your eyes react when they see me approaching you, when you see me with other girls, or when you see me shirtless." He grinned at her, shamelessly.

The girl remained silent, no words daring to be uttered, and she gasped as his hand returned to its former place on the top of her thigh. The Frenchman narrowed the space between them even more, letting his lips brush over hers.

"Come on, Y/N. I can feel how much you want this, want me right now." The man spoke, his fingers now playing with the elastic of her underwear, threatening to act on his desire. "Don't think too much about it. Just live in the moment and act without thinking about the consequences."

Those words were enough to make her head turn off, completely losing her rationality.

Filled with lust, Y/N acted without thinking and kissed Pierre urgently, as if she feared the moment would end at any moment.

With tongues fighting passionately, touches exploring the curves and details of each others' bodies, and clothes scattered carelessly around the room, the two allowed themselves to enter a new level of intimacy.

And the young woman's heart looked like it could explode at any moment with how full it felt, finally having the boy she craved for so long in her arms.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

The next day, Y/N woke up with the sun's rays coming through the half-open window of a room that she recognized immediately as Pierre's bedroom.

Though she had never woken up in that room like this before: naked, with only the sheets covering her body, and with a satisfying ache between her legs that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Although the driver was nowhere to be seen, a goofy smile appeared on her face, and she brought her hands to her face to cover it up. She let out a silent little scream as she remembered the wonderful hours she'd spent the night before, her exploring Pierre's body, Pierre exploring hers.

Finally, things were going to change. 

She finally got the boy she wanted all those agonizing years.

Grabbing a used tracksuit of his that was lying on a chair and a pair of clean boxers from his drawer, the girl got dressed and headed to the kitchen, where she found her lover leaning against one of his kitchen counters, concentrated on the phone in his hand while drinking some coffee.

"Well, good morning!" Y/N said, almost humming with so much happiness filling her as she approached the driver.

"Hey." He replied, short and dry, making the young woman stop in her tracks, dumbfounded by his carefree attitude.

"Did you sleep well today...?" She tried to test the waters to see if it was just her being dramatic and misunderstanding his response.

"Yeah, sure." Pierre spoke again, without returning the question and without taking his eyes off the small screen of his iPhone as he drank a bit more of his coffee.

Nervousness began to replace all the bliss that previously consumed the girl. It was almost as if he never cared, not even after all she gave him the night before. "Is there something wrong, Pierre?" She questioned, clutching the bottom of the hoodie she was wearing in an attempt to hide her uneasiness.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

"No, sorry. I'm just trying to arrange something here." He replied, more friendly, though he still hadn't even looked at her since Y/N walked into the kitchen.

"What are you planning?" The girl asked, trying everything to strike up a conversation with him. Her heart was beating wildly at that point, and it seemed to crack more and more with each beat.

"Just this lunch thing with a girl I've been talking to for a few weeks." His shoulders shrugged as if his words hadn't pushed Y/N to her limits.

She couldn't explain how hurt she felt. How dirty and used he, of all people, made her feel.

How could he? Her best friend. The person who had been by her side for years. The man she would do anything for.

After suffering in silence for years afraid to act on her feelings, this was her pay for taking a risk once in her life: becoming just another silly girl in Pierre Gasly's long list of lovers.

Just another conquest, another achievement, undeserving of the driver's concern and care, with zero distinction from all others.

"Look, I'm in a hurry. I really have to go, Y/N." He informed her just as he started to walk hurriedly towards the exit, placing a quick kiss on her temple.

As if those same lips hadn't been glued to hers, clinging to every surface of the girl's body just hours before.

"You know the way! Just let yourself out. See you later!" He yelled, leaving the girl stunned, tears streaming from her eyes, as she heard the apartment door close loudly.

I see the great escape, so long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed, writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

A couple of days later, Y/N found herself sitting in her condo's parking lot one night, balling her eyes out while she played the songs of her favourite artist.

She couldn't believe that her best friend had used her body and taken advantage of her feelings for him. And to make matters worse, the girl has received nothing but silence from Pierre's side since that morning in his apartment.

Left alone with her own confused thoughts, Y/N's head was spinning. She didn't know what to do, what to think, or what to say.

I just want to get out of Milan and go home, she repeated over and over again.

Y/N had never chosen that town.

The young woman remembered every detail of the day when Pierre announced he was going to move to Italy, leaving France.

A life without Pierre was unimaginable for the girl. She couldn't remember a single day when she didn't know him, when she didn't have his presence in her life.

Feeling trapped, with no other option, she simply packed her bags and went with him.

She couldn't help but think what a huge mistake it had been to come after him, especially when he didn't seem to care about having her there at all.

Y/N picked up her phone, preparing to turn off the music that was blaring through the car to return home, but she was stopped by the sight of the image that decorated her lock screen.

It was from last year. Pierre and Y/N were wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters - like they did every year as a silly tradition - cuddled up on the couch in his parents' house. The lights from the tree reflected on them, creating a magical atmosphere around the two friends.

The girl affectionately touched her phone, as if it were his face. 

Although the idea of returning to France had been hovering in her head for a while, she knew that she couldn't decide to leave without talking to him first.

After all, he was the only one who could make her stay.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

As tears continued to pool in her sad eyes, Y/N opted to get out of her car, assuring that it was safely locked, and called a taxi to take her to the boy's house, since she wasn't in any condition to drive.

The drive was silent and short, just the typical 15 minutes it took her every time. The girl got out of the car, thanked the driver, and began to walk hurriedly towards the building. Her step was uneven and fast, revealing the girl's erratic and desperate state.

Y/N walked through the door of the building, politely greeting the doorman, and continued on her way towards the elevator.

She was only inside for a few minutes until she reached Pierre's floor, being immediately surprised by the loud sound of music coming from the door of the familiar apartment.

He's having a party, and he hasn't even invited me, she thought to herself.

While she suffered from his absence, Pierre was surrounded by anything but silence.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Y/N gained some courage and rang the doorbell, although she was afraid that no one would hear the sound in between the noise coming from the apartment's speakers.

However, seconds later, the driver appeared at the door, wide-eyed at the sight of his friend.

"Hey! Y/N!" Pierre smiled at her, without any sign that he had stopped to think about her during the days that had passed since the night of desire between the two of them. "I wasn't expecting you, come in!"

"Hmm..." The girl hesitantly entered the house and tried to pretend that everything was fine, not wanting to ruin the party. "I was nearby and decided to stop by."

"Oh, good!" Pierre replied, bringing his hand to the back of his neck as his eyes roamed the party full of other bodies. "We're just having a last-minute thing. You know, just a spontaneous hangout." He chuckled, clearly looking to get back to what he was doing before heading to the door.

"Yes, of course, Pierre 'spontaneous' Gasly." Y/N joked, in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere between the two. However, she only received the disinterest of Pierre, who clearly didn't find the joke funny.

"Look, I have to go. I was in the middle of something," Pierre looked back at her, pointing towards a person she immediately recognized. "But Charles is over there with Joris! You can go to them. We'll talk later, okay?"

Without even waiting for her answer, the Frenchman left. The girl's teary eyes followed his image until she saw him returning to his dark couch, where three gorgeous women were waiting for the driver, with hungry eyes on their faces.

The same fucking couch where he'd explored her body, millimetre by millimetre, marking her skin with his touch, days before.

"You know how he gets when he is hosting a party." Charles said, approaching the young woman when he noticed her presence alone in the room.

She shrugged, discreetly wiping the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "Yeah, well, my presence was always pointless here for him anyway."

Y/N turned to the Monegasque driver and hugged him tight, longer than usual. The man was caught off guard, taking a few seconds to return his longtime friend's hug, but he did so.

Charles couldn't help feeling that that hug meant something more to the girl, but he chose not to question it since it was apparent in her hurt look that something else was going on and he didn't want to intrude.

Y/N placed a friendly kiss on the boy's cheek, letting her hand rest on his cheek. Her gaze locked with his eyes and he swore he saw a tear fall down her cheek.

"Goodbye Charles." She forced a smile. "I will talk to you later, I love you." Y/N turned her back to her friend and walked out the door, without allowing the driver to respond.

Charles couldn't shake the feeling that this 'goodbye' wasn't just a 'see you later', but, blaming it on alcohol and his imagination, he returned to the party, without giving the matter any further thought.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

In a hurry and with tears flowing freely down her face, the girl returned home and placed all her belongings in suitcases and bags, without any care.

And with that, Y/N ran up and down the stairs of the building where she lived towards her car, filling the trunk and the back seats of the vehicle with everything she had in her small house.

For one last time, Y/N looked at the now lifeless apartment where she lived for the last few years and her heart felt tight, unable to hide the nostalgia that that place was going to leave her with.

She might not have been the happiest there in Milan, but her home had always been her refuge.

However, it was time for her to turn the page, burn the bridge, and finally return to her true home.

Sitting in the car, she took a deep breath and began her long, impulsive journey back to France. It was completely insane trying to make a trip lasting more than 10 hours, especially at that time of night, but the girl simply couldn't bear to stay there another minute.

When the sun started to reappear in the sky, illuminating the endless road with its orange and pink tones, Y/N realized that he hadn't stopped yet and decided to park at one of the available stations to rest.

However, the heartache and the feeling of betrayal still crushed her soul, so she sought refuge in the words of her best friend, Céline, who would certainly welcome her when she reached her destination.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Her sleepy tone soon revealed that she had been awakened by the call.

"I'm coming home, Cél." Y/N informed, sniffling her nose. "I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this. I gave it my all but I just couldn't take it anymore."

"What?" Y/N could hear the sound of the sheets and mattress moving on the other end of the line, imagining Céline suddenly sitting up on her bed. "Home? As in France? I don't understand, what happened? Talk to me."

"I'm just a dumb girl who thought the guy she loved for years was going to be her prince charming, coming to save her the perfect kiss." The young woman sobbed, with her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to hide the noise. "Instead, I was just treated like a fucking toy. He didn't even care to know how I felt after he slept with me."

"What? You and Pierre?" His friend questioned, shocked. "Oh my god, I never thought he would be capable of doing this to you. I don't even know what to say."

The two friends stayed for a long time talking, Céline being her usual attentive friend and listening to Y/N's outburst without interrupting her.

"Don't worry, girl. I'll be here with open arms to welcome you home." Cél tried to comfort her friend, making the girl in the car thank her for everything.

Y/N had no reason to be afraid when the people who really cared about her were waiting for her where she truly belonged.

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

The days passed and Pierre went on with his life as normal, not even noticing the girl's absence until Charles asked him about it.

The two were playing FIFA on their PlayStations when the Monegasque spoke. "Pierre, have you heard from Y/N lately?"

The Frenchman felt a wave of shock hit him as he realized he hadn't seen or heard from her since the night of the party when he'd rudely dismissed her.

"I don't know, mate... When I talked to her at the party, she didn't seem right." Charles expressed his concerns. "I've tried texting her, calling her. She doesn't answer me."

"It's probably not a big deal. She's probably just busy with something." Pierre pretended to be unconcerned, trying to convince himself more than his friend that it was just a misunderstanding.

"No, Pierre. You don't understand." The Monegasque insisted, persistent in solving the mystery. "When she said goodbye to me that night... I felt like it was goodbye, a real goodbye."

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

The word echoed in Pierre's head and regret filled him from head to toe, as he rose abruptly from the sofa.

"I have to go, Charles."

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this

The driver knocked insistently on the girl's door, almost as if his life depended on it.

"Y/N, please! Open the door!" Fists clenched against the wood, he begged for a chance to apologize.

Pierre knew now that he had acted wrongly with her.

For letting his desire for some release come between them. For using his friend for a night of passion when she was the most important person in his life. For giving her just something fleeting, something ephemeral when she deserved the world at her feet.

For ignoring the girl the morning after the best night in his life. For avoiding her the next few days when he should have run to her and confessed his feelings. For taking the easy way out and looking for comfort in other bodies when the only one he wanted by his side was her.

Pierre gave up knocking and let his back hit the door, sitting on the step. "I'm sorry. For everything. I beg you, give me a chance to tell you everything I should have said ages ago."

"Sorry, but are you looking for Y/N?" An old voice spoke, making the Frenchman look up at the person. "She doesn't live here anymore, young man."

"W- What- What do you mean?" Pierre stammered, feeling like he'd been doused in cold water.

"She left the apartment a few days ago. The landlord is already looking for someone to rent the place." The elderly lady informed him, setting down the groceries she was holding on the floor.

It was too late, he thought. I lost her, forever.

She approached him, placing a hand gently on the boy's shoulder, who now had his head between his hands.

"I'm sorry, but you're on your own, kid."

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

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(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[russellsppttemplates]

He's going to be so loved (Pierre Gasly)

You're afraid your children won't have all the love they deserved

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that is about a sensetive topic that I have hopefully depicted with the respect it deserves.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy, curse words, family issues (reader has cut ties with her family)

"Y/N, chérie, how is little man treating you?", Pascale asked once you opened the door, allowing her and Charlotte, one of your sisters in law, inside the house, "he's a kicker, that's for sure! But he's been good lately, usually just needs me to tell him once and he'll stick to just move around", you giggled helping them with their coats before getting together in the kitchen, "I'm finishing my breakfast, do you want something while I finish? Some biscuits, tea, coffee? Oh, Pierre also made this cake with me yesterday, I had a big craving for it and it turned out really good!", you offered, "I'll have some tea, please. And maybe some cake too, although if Pierre made it, I might start with a small piece and see how it goes from there", Charlotte chuckled as she helped you bring the plates to the table.

The initial plan was to get a few smaller things that you still needed to get, like muslin cloths and such things, but like any other time you had shopped with company, you ended up with way too many bags filled with baby things. When you got home, Pierre had already arrived back from work, meeting you at the door and helping you carry the bags up, "Mon amour, how was your day?", he asked, kissing your lips and grabbing some bags, "it was good, my feet are a bit sore, but I really enjoyed spending time with them!", you exclaimed, reaching the nursery and putting the bags on the floor, your arms opening sp you could hug your husband, "I kept telling them that, as far as I know, there's only one baby here, but they insisted on getting all of this!", you giggled, feeling his hands rub your bump, "Our family is growing and they're very excited, it's just one of the ways they show how happy they are and their support too", he said, kissing your forehead.

To anyone, that would be a simple comment and it would brush them as quickly as it was said. But for you, it stayed playing in loop in your mind. The reminders that you did not have your family by your side came and went since you decided to keep away from them, especially when it came to big dates or important moments, but recently it had been a constant thought.

Cutting ties with your family had been the best decision, there isn't a day that you regret what you did. Having said that, it was still something you wished you could have in different circumstances. To have your mother share her experiences, to show you things from when you were little, to have your father teaching you and setting you set up the nursery and tell you all about your family's customs through the years.

Pierre's family had been incredible like always. They knew just enough about what happened with your family and not only respected it but also supported you in any way they could, taking you under their wing like you were one of their own from the beggining. The pregnancy had been received with massive excitement from everyone, and they kept calling whenever they had the chance, wanting to know how you were and if there was anything they could do to help you and Pierre in this journey. But lately, it had been a bit of a handful dealing with your thoughts.

.

"Can you grab the bag, please?", Pierre asked once he parked the car, checking something on the car before exiting it and lacing your hands once he got out, locking it and heading to the front door of Charles' place.

They had invited you over for baby Hervé's shower, welcoming you inside while you looked around, "we have a specific chair for you so you can be comfy", Charles said as he pointed to his wife, "she ordered me to do it", he chuckled, "hey! You don't know what it is to carry a baby around! It's hard work, and we both need to rest!", she reasoned with her husband, hugging you the best way you could before she introduced you to the people you didn't know. While they had a lot of friends and family you already knew, Charles' in laws were there too and you hadn't yet met some of them. They congratulated you, easily chatting up about everything and anything while you ate the snacks and drinks being passed around.

Pierre felt his body get a little bit lighter. It wasn't like your demeanor had changed that much in comparison to the last few days, but you certainly looked comfortable and like you were enjoying yourself.

"There's something on your mind, and I have time while they decorate biscuits. So, spill it", Charles noted, sitting next to Pierre on one of the high stools, sipping from his drink while he looked at his bestfriend. "Does Y/N seem off to you? Or has she seemed off to you recently?", he wondered looking at his wife admiring her work of art in the blue powdered sugar icing.

"I mean, she's lost some of her energy, but that's normal at this stage. You can't expect that she is running around now", Charles reasoned, not understanding where he was going, "it's just, I think she's been a little crestfallen, quieter than usual lately, and she hasn't said anything to me in that regard, she's been very quiet. I've tried to get her to talk, but she never says much", Pierre slumped his shoulders, "you just have to take it day by day. It's a lot these days, I'm sure you feel it, too. And they feel it even more. Family and friends are a great help, but there are some things they have to deal with on their own and it's hard to juggle all of it. She'll come to you whenever she feels ready, trust me", Charles patted his back.

.

You put all the baby clothes you had washed and dried in the hamper, supporting it comfortably on your side as you walked up to the nursery. The room was coming along well, the crib was already finished, just needing to be done with the softest sheets your skin has ever felt, and the rest of the furniture had been assembled whenever you and Pierre found the time to do it. Setting the clothes on top of the dresser, you opened the respective drawers to allocate every piece, taking the time and effort of remembering who had gifted them to your baby boy. Charles and his wife got matching sets so that both of the boys could look alike, Pascale had gotten way too many pieces for you to keep track on, claiming she was so excited to be a grandma again that she couldn't help herself anytime she saw something cute and had to get it.

Without noticing, tears started falling from your eyes and into the small pieces of clothing, marking them and creating a strain on your breath. Breathing in this late stage of pregnancy was already difficult, and sobbing wasn't helping it. You carefully walked to the chair you had put in the room so you'd have somewhere to sit during the night, proving its usefulness now as you tried to manage your emotions.

Pierre came out of the bathroom after his shower, already dressed and towell in hand so he could take it to the laundry room when he heard movement in the nursery. He didn't expect to see you like how he found you, cheeks red and tear stained and a trembling lip while you looked up at the ceiling.

"Hey, amour, what's the matter? Are you in pain?", he walked, throwing the towell on the corridor and kneeling in front of you, holding your hand in his while the other brushed the hairs out of your eyes. "I'm not in pain, I'm okay", you gulped, "but I haven't been feeling good. And I've wanted to talk to you, but I didn't want to bother you, even though you always say I could never bother you, but I'm telling you now, I guess", you blurted, receiving an encouragement nod from your husband.

Sighing, you played with his fingers, "lately, it dawned on me that my family isn't around for this, for me or for baby Alexandre, for us", you began, "and seeing Charles and his wife and everyone for there for Hervé, it got me thinking even more like, everyone was there to see them! To see the mother to be, to support her and congratulate her. And I'm not saying this in a bad way, because I'm so happy that they have it. And I know we have that from your family, I'm not complaining about them either. Everyone has been lovely, but fuck, I won't have my family supporting me. I won't have my father checking up on his little girl after she gave birth or have my mother share her experiences because the thought of having to be in the same room as them chills my bones. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt still, because it does", you cried, the attempt of looking up to stop the tears from flowing failing as Pierre carefully wiped them.

"How long have you been feeling like this, mon ange?", Pierre asked, now holding your face in his hands, "a little while, and the shower just made it a bit stronger, I think. Fuck, I sound like an awful person, I'm sorry", you apologised, "hey, no need for that. It's okay to feel like this, you don't have to feel guilty about your feelings", your husband reasoned.

"It is the best decision to keep away from them, I wouldn't change it for the world. But it will only be me passing down our traditions, and letting him know how things used to be, our language, our customs", you sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve, "because I don't want him to not know. It is a part of me that I'm proud of and I'm not letting my parents take that from me too", you breathed out. Rubbing your hands, your husband looked for your eyes, "and we will make sure he knows. Him and his siblings if we are fortunate along the way. I know a few words myself, and I'll help with all the traditions. I'll make your recipes, even if they don't taste as good, I'll teach them about all the holidays you celebrate and that we will celebrate too and I'll support you in anything you decide to do, I promise", he stated, smiling in hope you'd mirror his, the corners of your lips lifting a little.

"I know they're your family, but I'm sure that our little one is going to be so so so loved, he's going to be doted on by everyone", Pierre pointed out, "and we will make sure we do everything we can for that. And you are going to tell me everytime things get too much, okay? I hate to see you like this", he asked, earning a nod from you, "now, how about we sort these clothes so we can finally decide on the outfit he's wearing for when he comes home?", your husband teased you, "your brother gave us this little set he found and I think that's the one, let me show you it", you said, getting up and waddling to the pile of clothes, happily showing you the choice and smiling as you watched your husband's excitement about it all. Your little boy was going to be so loved, and it didn't have to be from a blood relationship.

[formulapierre]

I don't wanna leave just yet | Pierre Gasly

Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Y/N!reader

Prompt : Based off of 'I don't wanna leave just yet' by Thomas Day. Where Pierre suddenly ends your relationship; claiming it was your fault and you have to deal with the fallout.

Warnings: Cheating. I also wrote this in a couple hours so please excuse any grammatical errors. Thanks x

Word Count: 1358

Song: I don't wanna leave just yet - Thomas Day

'The world goes up in flames so fast'

“Y/N,” Pierre says from the kitchen.

“What’s going on P?” You ask, still sitting on the couch. Pierre didn’t sound like himself which concerned you, in the whole almost three years you had been together he had called you by your first name probably a handful of times. You got up and went into the kitchen, knowing that was going to be an important conversation

“I need to be honest with you Y/N; I need to be honest with myself-” He starts to say before you cut him off.

‘What are you saying?” You ask him, very confused by the situation.

“We haven’t been working for a while…and I’ve-” He says pausing, evidently trying to figure out what to say and how to say it.

“-you’ve found someone else…” You say, finishing his sentence for him, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes, clouding your vision.

“Yes,”

And all I want is all I had But it's too late to take it back

“We can fix this…I can fix this,” You say softly.

“No Y/N,” He says, almost pained.

“Please Pierre, there’s no way this is just it,” You argue, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“It is, I have found someone else. This isn’t just about me and you anymore…well it never was, was it?” He asks and you roll your eyes.

“You’re still insecure about that?” You asks, lost for words that he was still hung up over it. “ I never slept with him, we both told you that. Stop making things up Pierre. There never was, is, or will be anything between Charles and I.” You argue; He had apparently seen proof of you and Charles leaving a party in Ibiza together.

“The photos Y/N!” He argues back.

“Are of some random girl, who also has blonde hair. Its not that fucking uncommon.” You reason for what felt like the millionth time. “So that's it? That's the reason you’re going to use? End three years of us because of some bullshit rumour?” You ask, the tears starting to roll down your cheeks.

And I can't ask of you to give away the last of you But, selfishly, I'm hoping that you stay

“Please don’t go,” You beg as he silently packed his bags.

“I can’t stay here, can I?” He asks bitterly, sticking to his guns.

“You have to believe me, those rumours are just that, rumours,” You say. “You trust me Pierre, there is no reason I’d lie to you. Fuck me, why would Charles lie to you? He is your oldest friend for Christ's sake?!”

“You tell me Y/N? Is it because you’re still seeing each other behind my back?” He asks and you just laugh.

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” You ask incredulously

Let's lock all the doors and crawl in to bed Just another moment so I don't forget

You were sat, side by side in Pierre’s brand new Porsche; a gift He had bought himself when he signed his contract with Alpine. His hand resting on your thigh as you drove along the southern french coastline. The wind running through your hair as you sang the lyrics to your favourite songs.

As the song came to an end Pierre turned the volume down before looking over at you. Your large sunglasses and woven hat keeping the sun out of your face but bright red smile, smiling right back at him.

“Have I told you today how much I love you Cherie?” He asks sweetly, as soft blush covering your face.

“I don’t think you have,” You reply as he brings your hand up to his lips.

“Well we definitely need to change that,” He says, causing you to laugh softly. “I love you Y/N so much it hurts; it feels like I was made to love you. We are perfect for each other and nothing will ever come between us, because I love you,” He says honestly and jokingly; you both had found the notion of true love to be made up, but people around you had always commented on the fact you were perfect for eachother.

“Yeah right,” You reply teasingly.

“Cherie, it pains me that there may even be a little part of you that doesnt think what I said was true,” He says with a laugh as He comes to park at your next stop. A tiny village surrounded by vineyards, known for their white wine

'Cause it's gonna hurt, and I'm scared to death We have to go but I don't wanna leave just yet

How couldn’t he believe you? 

You had even gotten Charles to speak to him about it; Pierre barely listened to him as He spoke. Neither of you making much difference. That had been a few months ago, you had thought you had moved past it considering you hadn’t actually seen charles since the supposed event. But apparently not.

How were you going to be ok without him? He had been your lifeline, your rock for nearly three years. And how could he throw that all away over rumour?

Of all people to not be affected by rumour, you would have thought it was him. His job and the places he worked were full of speculation, gossip and rumour. There were constant rumours about the latest supermodel He had bedded, but you didn’t let that get to you. Why was the other way around any different?

You were lost.

The truth is written on the walls But we'll lay here and watch them fall

You lay in bed, staring at the framed photos on the walls. 

You and Pierre in Rouen,

You and Pierre at the beach in Monaco with Charles and Charlotte,

Christmas last year that you spent with your family,

The selfie you took on your anniversary date,

The road trip you took around the UK when you first got together, wanting to show him all your favourite places.

The photo Esteban had taken of the two of you kissing in the back of Pierre’s garage only a few months ago.

You thought about taking them down so you didn’t have to look at them, not wanting to face what was reality for so long. You cried, remembering each memory associated with each photo, how much it hurt that he wasn’t here, and wasn’t going to walk through the bedroom door and scoop you up into his arms; telling you everything was going to be ok.

And please forgive me for holding on I'm tryna take it in before you're gone

He had forgotten it when he had packed all his stuff up. A linen shirt. Something so basic, but so important at the same time. That was his signature outfit. The one he wore on your yearly Lake Como trip, or when you go to France to see his family, or when he was just lounging around the apartment. You were surprised when He messaged, you knew for a fact He had a handful of other shirts just like it.

But this would be it; you held it close to you. Inhaling the, now, feint smell of his cologne for what would be the last time before you heard your doorbell ring. You folded the shirt, setting it down before answering the door.

“Hey Pierre,” You said opening it to reveal him standing on the other side.

“Just let me have my shirt Y/N, I don’t want this to be any longer than it has to be,” He says and you have to stifle your emotions, just nodding and grabbing the shirt from the table.

“Here,” You say, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” He says quietly before turning away and heading down the hallway. You watched as he walked away from you for the last time.

'Cause it's gonna hurt, and I'm scared to death We have to go but I don't wanna leave just yet

His clothes were gone,

His toothbrush was gone,

The photos were gone,

His smell was gone,

He was gone.

And you? You were lost.

A/N : I might do a few more of these purely text based fics as they are much quicker to write than my Instagram fics and shorter; though I will continue to do them I just want to be posting more regularly for you all. -E x

[thef1diary]

All The Love We Lost | P. Gasly

Summary: After a brutal crash took the life of your lover, and leaving your best friend with multiple injuries, you have to figure out how to cope without him.

Warnings: character death, angst, like heavy angst, detailed description of the crash, lots of emotions, dealing with loss, emotional breakdowns, brief mention of unhealthy eating habits, hopeful ending but still sad, christian horner.

Pairings: pierre x fem!reader (established relationship), charles x fem!reader (platonic), daniel x fem!reader (platonic), lando x fem!reader (platonic), carlos x fem!reader (platonic)

word count: 6.1k

Note: this is not a happy fic. Please take the warnings seriously. I apologize in advance if the way I wrote the characters dealing with grief is not accurate. This is just how I think it would be realistic. And a reminder, this is a work of fiction, please do not take it to heart.

The moment the crash happened, it felt like all the air was sucked out of your lungs. Your heartbeat paced to the point where it rung in your ears, blocking out all the sounds of those around you reacting to the same thing.

Pierre had a brutal crash during the race. You've seen him walk out of crashes before, laughing at your pale face caused by your reaction to the scene. Then he would kiss your cheek and give you a big hug to show you that he was truly alright, teasing you for being so worried for no reason.

However, you waited and waited until he walked out of the car, but that moment never came. You stood still, eyes stuck on the screen showing you everything that was happening in live timing, while everyone around you was gathering more information, finding out what went wrong.

You watched the screen until the cameras panned towards something else, not wanting to broadcast the aftermath of the crash on live television.

What made it worse was that Pierre wasn't alone in this crash, Daniel was the other driver who was involved as well. There were only a few laps left to the race before the crash happened, instantly red flagging it.

While Daniel had attempted to overtake Pierre, they touched, creating a loud sound. The cars slid off the track due to a puncture on both the rear end wheels of Daniel's car. This led to his car going out of control, unfortunately taking Pierre's car as well.

Both cars hit the barrier, but after that you couldn't keep your eyes open to see the rest of it, the sound of it was too much, and you knew it would haunt your dreams for the next following weeks.

When you opened your eyes again, there was a lot of debris on the track caused by both cars. You couldn't even make out the shape of one of them anymore. It was bad, very bad. Due to the wheel spin, one car ended up on top of the other, not completely but enough to cover the driver underneath.

Now, it was like you've forgotten how to blink, because you felt like if you did then you'd miss out on something huge.

It had been two hours to the crash, and there wasn't any update on either driver. They had both been taken straight to the hospital rather than the medical centre due to the impact of the crash. No one told you whether Pierre or Daniel had gained consciousness but based on the atmosphere, you didn't think so.

You stood in the hallway of the hospital, outside the emergency rooms. You rested your head against the wall, having to close your eyes due to the bright white lights on the ceiling. Your fist tightened as the need to cry overwhelmed you. In your hand, you held the ring that Pierre always takes off before the race and giving it to you.

You opened your eyes when you felt a light tap on your shoulders. It was Charles, holding a cup of water towards you. You weakly smiled and took it, quenching the thirst you ignored for a while now. He stood beside you, shoulder to shoulder.

You chose to lean your head against his shoulder, and his arm came up to bring you in a side hug. "He'll be okay, they both will." He muttered, and you couldn't reply because you'd start asking questions that you knew he didn't have the answers to.

Instead, you decided to keep quiet and hope that Charles was correct. You don't know how long the two of you stayed like that, finding comfort in each other's presence. There were quite a few others around you including Carlos, Lando, Christian, but your thoughts didn't wander on them at all.

Just Pierre and Daniel.

The only time you moved was when the doctor stood in front of the small crowd, passing the news of what happened behind the doors of the emergency rooms.

"Daniel Ricciardo is in a stable condition, although unconscious now, he should be waking up in a little while." The doctor who you don't even remember the name of said. There were a few audible signs of relief yours included when you heard the news.

However, your heart was still longing for the other half. The news of your other half.

"However, I'm afraid I have some bad news, we were unable to save Pierre Gasly. I am sorry for your loss." Contrary to the sighs of relief just seconds before, those were now replaced with gasps.

A single tear slid down your cheek and your lips quivered. Not even seconds later, your face was wet with your tears as you fell down to your knees. The tight grasp on his ring slipped away, making a small clattering sound. But that was nothing compared to the sound of your heart breaking. You gasped, tried to breathe in air but you struggled.

It felt like someone had taken your heart in their grasp and squeezed the life out of it.

The people around you were saying something but you couldn't hear anything clearly. It all sounded mumbled. Holding your hands close to your chest, you broke down and no matter how strong you might've looked for the past couple of hours, you were the complete opposite right now.

——

"Thank you for putting up with me for five years. Happy anniversary, ma chérie" Pierre whispered in your ear as he uncovered your eyes.

It had been an hour long drive to your destination, and the entire hour you tried prying out the information of your surprise from your lover. But he didn't budge.

Pierre had set up a candlelit dinner under the stars. One table, two chairs, and a whole bunch of decoration with gifts. He truly knew how to spoil you.

You turned around, immediately bringing him close for a kiss. "Happy anniversary, my love." You smiled once you pulled away.

To Pierre, your smile was the brighter than any star in the sky.

——

Your anniversary marking five years of dating was one week ago, and you couldn't possibly comprehend the vast difference from one of the best days of your life to the worst.

You were standing in the parking lot of the hospital. Not able to stay inside because you felt the need to scream. Nor could you go home, because it would look exactly how you left it this morning. With Pierre.

"This is not real, no. Please no" you muttered to yourself. You heard your name spoken from a familiar Monégasque accent. You couldn't face him, no. You shook your head, but he didn't listen. Pulling you in a hug, you could hear his cries as well.

It wasn't only you who needed this support, Charles did too. After all, he was Pierre's best friend. "Char, I can't believe this. I don't want to." You stuttered out in between your sniffles. You weren't sure if he heard you since your face was still in the crook of his neck.

He pulled away, looking as worse as you felt. "He was okay. This happened to fast. I-" he choked on his own words, "-I didn't even get to say goodbye." He said as he was fidgeting with a ring on his pinky.

"They're telling me everything will be okay. How? He was like a brother to me." Charles continued, his arm stretched out to point, referring to the rest of the people inside.

You couldn't console him, how could you when you didn't even have a control on your own emotions and thoughts. So you listened to him, while wiping away the tears staining his cheeks. Charles was one of the few people who was as close to Pierre as you were, if not more. He was the one who could understand the length of your emotions.

Your eyes dried up but the need to cry didn't falter. Both yours and Charles' eyes were rimmed red.

Once Charles had nothing more to say, you two stood in the silence. For once, the silence was louder than your heartbeat.

It was silent until Carlos came outside, calling your names. "Daniel's awake." He stated, and while you were happy for him you didn't have the energy to smile.

He was mainly talking to Charles, or so you thought until Carlos said your name. "Are you coming?" You nodded. After all, Daniel was still a close friend of yours.

Daniel had been moved to a different room, where visitors were allowed to see him. You saw Lando leaving his room, knowing the duo had gotten closer over the past few years. He stopped when he saw you, trying to bring a smile on his face but his eyes were full of concern.

You didn't mutter a word to him, and walked in Daniel's room. If you didn't acknowledge your own emotions, you won't need to find a solution to deal with them. And quite frankly, you've dealt with a lot more emotions today than you thought.

Mustering up a smile or at least the best smile you could stick on your face, you greeted him, "hey danny”

He was missing his signature smile, and he didn't look too good either. One of his arms was in a plaster cast, and you could see the bruises on the area that the cast didn't cover. Trailing your eyes upwards, you noticed the marks of stitches on his forehead. You couldn't even imagine the amount of injuries he had below the thin blanket currently covering him.

His face had lost some of its colour, and the darkness under his eyes appeared deeper. The glint in his eyes disappeared, which was a very odd look because you were so used to seeing him all happy. He was far from happy at the moment.

"I'm sorry." He spoke, softly as if speaking any louder would physically hurt him. You didn't expect the first words out his mouth would be an apology to you.

Lando and Carlos were the ones to break the news to him about Pierre. They didn't want to, telling Daniel to rest but he really wanted to know.

You inhaled sharply, because you knew exactly what he was apologizing for. You didn't know whether to accept it or not. You still weren't stable with the news, so you figured instead of saying something you might regret, you didn't say anything at all.

As much as you didn't want to ignore his words, that's exactly what you did. Taking a step closer to him, you brought your hand up to lightly graze his face.

His lips trembled but he bit them to hide that, but you had already noticed it. You didn't want to make this any harder on him. You couldn't imagine the pain of dealing with the loss of someone close at the same time as recovering from the brutal accident.

You accidentally grazed over his stitches which caused a pained sound to leave his lips. You instantly moved your hand away, "sorry."

You stood there, watching him. There was probably a lot that needed to be said between you two, but this was not the place nor time.

You took note of the time, visiting hours would be over soon. He saw you looking at the clock on the wall, "stay?" He voiced his thoughts, hopefully not sounding too desperate.

You nodded, pulling a chair closer to his bed and sitting down. You saw his fingers twitching on the hand that didn't have a cast. He didn't say a word, but you understood him well enough. You grasped his hand, stopping his fingers from twitching.

A thought crossed your mind, of yours and Daniel's friendship. How it has changed from now on. You never saw him think twice before hugging you or merely making any sort of contact with you. But now, you saw how he avoided your eyes, how he didn't want to touch you because he was afraid.

In Daniel's mind, he felt ashamed and disgusted to even be in the same room as you. He couldn't even think about his own pain, oh how he wished his physical pain would take his mind off what he did, even if it was unintentional. But he felt numb because of all the painkillers in his system.

You slowly rubbed your thumb across the back of his hand while holding it. Hoping the sensation was at least somewhat soothing.

It was silent in the room, the only sound was the whirring of the air conditioning. You saw goosebumps forming on Daniel's arm and wondered if it was because he was cold or due to your touch.

The silence allowed your thoughts to wander, and they weren't pretty. You could feel your eyes welling up with tears again, so you rested your forehead on your hand that was holding Daniel's, not letting him see you break. If he did, he would feel a lot worse, and you wanted him to have a speedy recovery not the opposite.

You closed your eyes, preventing any tears from falling and although you couldn't see, Daniel was doing the same. He finally found a resting position where his head didn't throb from the pain, then closed his eyes. The only contact between you two was your entwined hands, but for some reason that was enough to ground both of you.

Your peace was interrupted when Christian came in the room, "visiting hours are over." He told you quietly, making you lift up your head to look at him. "I'm staying." You told him, which made Daniel open his eyes as well.

"Only one person is allowed to stay, and I think it's best if I do." Christian spoke in a stern voice, then he felt like he made a mistake, softening his voice for the next words, "I don't think it's a good idea if you stay, since..." he didn't finish his sentence, but you knew exactly what he wanted to say. Since Pierre died.

You stood up, "Christian, with all due respect, Daniel is my friend and I want to stay here. Don't try to convince me otherwise." Your throat ached while you spoke.

He knew that he wouldn't win in this little argument, so he nodded. "Please take care of yourself, both of you." He said before leaving the room.

You looked at Daniel before making yourself comfortable on the chair again. "You really didn't have to stay, I would've been fine on my own." Daniel told you but you sighed, "Is it selfish of me to stay here mainly because I don't want to go home?"

You truly didn't have the energy to face everything at home. And as much as you wanted to stay because of Daniel, you also used him as an excuse so you don't have to go home.

He didn't respond, so you changed the topic of conversation, "now it's time for you to rest properly."

He smiled a bit and nodded before closing his eyes. You moved from the chair to the couch in the corner of the room that would be your bed for tonight.

You made the mistake of looking at your phone, a photo of Pierre set as the background. You ignored that and glanced at the messages you received from the other drivers, all knowing the news about Pierre. However, it wasn't announced to the public yet.

——

You were woken up by the sound of a glass breaking. Immediately getting up, you saw the cause of the sound. "Daniel!" You gasped, and he paused mid action, feeling like a little child who got caught.

You rushed over to his side, avoiding the broken glass on the floor. This happened because he tried to pick up a glass of water from the side table.

You picked up another glass and filled up the water from the jug. Then, instead of giving it to him, you held it for him as he slowly sipped.

Once he pulled away, you placed it down on the table again. "You could've woken me up" you told him. "I underestimated my uselessness." He shrugged.

"You're not useless. You're hurt, and if you keep this up then I might just have you move in with me so I can properly take care of you." You rushed out the first words that came to mind.

Daniel watched as the realization came across your face, already shaking his head. "Actually that's exactly what we're going to do." You told him.

"I am perfectly fine, you don't have to take care of me like I'm a child." He huffed, and you had to stop yourself from smiling because he did in fact look like a child right now. "Oh really? Then show me you can get up all on your own."

You observed him as he attempted to do as you told, key word being attempt. But, when he removed the blanket to prevent any restriction, you stopped him from actually trying to get up.

Finally seeing the extent of his injuries, your heart hurt. His left leg had a long line of stitches below his knee. His right ankle had a cast, restricting any movement. Other than those injuries, his legs were littered with bruises.

"I was joking, don't actually move. Please." The tone of your voice instantly changed into worry. Placing the blanket back over him, you sat on the couch again, ignoring the glass for now. It was past midnight anyways so you didn't want to bother the staff.

"You're not actually going to have me move in with you, are you?" He asked. "I'd prefer if you did because I don't want you to live alone, but if you don't want to then I can't force you." You didn't expect him to give a response to that right away.

——

Two days after that, you were told to go home to rest, and you definitely knew that was just a nicer way to tell you that you needed a shower.

Lando had taken your spot of taking care of Daniel in the hospital while Charles chose to drive you home. He chose to come if you needed him for anything, not wanting to leave you alone.

He looked horrible though, messy hair, red eyes, clothes mismatched. Yet he showed up for you.

Maybe you were glad that he came with because what you were faced with, you couldn't have done it alone. Once you entered the building, the doorman gave you a package, saying that it had been two days since it was here.

You had no idea what it was, but it was wrapped very nicely. Entering your apartment, you inhaled sharply looking around at everything with a new perspective.

Your home had lost its homey feeling.

Deciding to open the package, you saw the contents inside. Maybe you shouldn't have opened it but you also didn't know that it was from Pierre.

"It's been a week, can you believe that? I just spent another seven days with my lover. But I'm sure most of those days were probably spent away from you because of work. Think of this as a little apology gift."

- Your one and only

You read the note, and a tear stained the paper. Unwrapping it fully, you saw that there was a little couples spa package and plane tickets to Santorini.

Pierre had preordered this gift because he knew that he would forget about it during the race week. That's what he was doing when he was acting a little suspicious on his laptop.

"Charles" you cried, handing him the note before hugging him tightly. "I miss him, I miss him so much."

"Me too." He folded the notes after reading it. Pierre had told him about this idea, and he was fully on board with it even though he was slightly annoyed at your public affection of love. Both Pierre and Charles knew you'd be so happy receiving this gift, but now Charles witnessed it himself that while the sentiment was there, it was a really bad time.

"I'm sorry, he told me about this and I completely forgot. I shouldn't have brought you here." He told you, but you shook your head. "I'm gonna have to live here anyways."

"You can always move in with me." He suggested. "It's okay, thank you though."

You moved further inside, going to the bedroom. Bracing yourself as you entered. Charles chose to wait outside, he felt like the moment was too personal.

He didn't hear any sound coming from the room, and a while had passed. Checking the time, it had been an hour since you were in your room. He wandered by the door, looking around for you.

And when he did, he entered the room. You are cuddled up on the bed clutching one of Pierre's hoodies, that no doubt smelt like him. There were tear stains on your cheeks, and your eyes were tightly shut.

Instead of waking you up, he spread a blanket over your body and left the room. Before leaving the apartment, he took one of the spare keys if there was an emergency.

Then, he fired off a text to tell you that he left, and to call him if you need anything.

——

Today was the day that Daniel would be discharged from the hospital and move in with you for however long he needed. Again, it was a little selfish decision on your end because you didn't want to be alone. However, you couldn't say that out loud anymore, after all it had been a week since Pierre died.

While your friends still comforted you, you felt like a burden to them. Always needing them to take care of you, so you thought that at least with Daniel around, he wouldn't judge and you actually looked forward to spending time with him.

You still cried, every day. While making breakfast, while taking a shower, while doing any normal day-to-day activities. You were still a mess. To the point where you avoided looking at yourself in the mirror unless it was absolutely necessary.

Kind of like this moment, where you needed to look presentable before the guys came over. Lando and Charles were bringing Daniel over and even texted you that they'd bring food.

Talking about food, that was another thing you were close to giving up on. You surely lost some weight in the past week, your appetite disappearing every time you sat down to eat.

Glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time, you stuck a smile on your face—something you did very often nowadays—and opened the door to greet the boys. You had heard them, specifically Lando's laugh which informed you they had arrived.

Daniel was in a wheelchair, due to the injuries from his torso down. He could walk, but barely. Although there were no serious fractures in his leg other than in his ankle.

Lando wheeled him inside, muttering something about him being too heavy which earned him a smack on his chest by the same man who he was making fun of. "Ow, mate you're supposed to be hurt, not hurting others."

"You don't count." He retorted which made Charles chuckle. He looked better now, or at least was better than before.

You and Charles had conversed over text, talking about all the things that you two were afraid to tell anyone else. Like the fact that you both had trouble sleeping, and when you did, you had nightmares. Charles had experienced loss before, but no matter how many times one could go through that, it doesn't make the next one any easier.

You were grateful for your friends, they had unknowingly made the days a little better. While they were over, time passed easily. For the first time, a conversation didn't mention Pierre. It wasn't because you had already forgotten about him, far from it, but it felt okay not needing to mention him. It was a weird feeling, one that would take time getting used to, but that's what you needed. Time.

Soon, Lando and Charles were leaving. Now it was only you and Daniel in the apartment. You stood to clean up but Daniel grasped your wrist to stop you.

"Can we talk please?" And just like that, the mood switched and it was like you were taken back to reality. You nodded and sat back down, eye level with him.

"I want to apologize, and it's okay if you don't believe me but I need to get this off my chest. It was not intentional at all. I didn't think that was going to happen. I am so sorry for everything." He managed to say without tears spilling down his cheeks.

If he told you this a week ago, you might've lashed out on him. But now, you had thought it through and as easy it would've been to blame someone or something, you knew it wasn't right. "Daniel, why wouldn't I believe you?" You held his hand. "Pierre was everything to you, heck, you were everything to him. And I took that away. I still don't understand why you care about me, or even talk to me."

"Listen, I was there. I saw it all. And even though I desperately wish that he was here right now, I would never blame you for it. It is not your fault. And I still care about you because you're my friend, okay? We're still friends right?" You asked him.

He nodded, still hanging his head low, not meeting your eyes. "Daniel, look at me." You placed your fingers underneath his chin and lifted his head. "This is not your fault." He nodded, trying to convince himself. He let out a sigh of relief when you hugged him, not remembering the last time you did.

Weeks went by, and it was safe to say that with Daniel around, it was a little bit easier to live with the constant ache in your heart. Things were better between you two. Although he still thought twice before saying anything to you, he tried his best to be himself.

While things were beginning to look better, there were still many days that weren't good at all. Daniel had witnessed a few outbursts of cries when you found something around the house that reminded you of a specific memory of Pierre. But instead of backing away because he thought he would make it worse, he comforted you.

There were many nights spent with you crying your heart out to him. Some days, he even joined you.

In terms of his own journey towards healing, he didn't need the wheelchair at all. Though he still limped while walking due to the cast on his foot.

You thought that getting a concussion would set his mind straight, but he was still the stubborn Danny you knew very well.

His bruises lightened, almost fading away. You took him to his mandatory doctor's appointments even though he tried convincing you that he didn't need to go. On those days, you quite literally pulled him out of bed. From those mandatory appointments, you learned that he could get rid of the plaster on his arm and replace it with a brace instead, making it slightly easier to move with less weight on his injured arm.

Daniel insisted on helping you make dinner one day. Although he wasn't a chef, he was still a good helper. Until he wasn't. You had given him the simple task of cutting up vegetables.

Making a pained sound, he moved away from the kitchen counter, clutching his hand. You stopped what you were doing immediately, "what happened?"

He showed you his hand, a cut across two fingers. Though it looked small so you chuckled. "Are you laughing at me?" He glared at you.

"Well it's pretty small compared to how you're reacting." You shrugged.

"It hurts." He retorted. "Alright you big baby, let me make it all better." You said in a joking tone which made Daniel huff.

You seated him down then brought the first aid kit. He was looking at you while you were focusing on his little injury. Disinfecting it then putting a bandage on it, you looked at him, surprised when you noticed that he was already looking at you.

About to walk away, he called out your name. "If you're going to treat me like a child, you forgot to do one thing." He brought his injured fingers up. You shook your head with a smile on your face. Holding his hand, you kissed his bandage covered wound. "There, all better now." You teased.

You went back to making dinner, this time without Daniel as you instructed him to rest for a little while.

The next day, you woke up with a lot of energy despite the few hours of sleep you had gotten. This energy led you to properly clean up your apartment.

You had tried to keep it clean at most times, especially since Daniel was staying over and you didn't want him to see how much of a mess you truly were. He also helped by cleaning up after himself and you if need be.

But he was surprised when you told him that you'll sort through Pierre's stuff today. This was a big step forward for you.

You started with the trophies on the shelf, cleaning them before putting it in a box. You were definitely keeping them, not having the guts to get rid of the proof of his achievements, but you didn't want them collecting dust.

Pierre used to look at them before he left for the race weekend. He told you that it was motivating, knowing that he's achieved this level of success before which meant that he was capable of it again.

After that, you moved to the bedroom. Ever since that day you fell asleep with Pierre's hoodie in your grasp, you had kept that habit. While it may not be the best coping strategy especially for moving on, it was comforting. It was like you could feel Pierre's presence right next to you.

Sorting through his clothes, you were hit by memories of the days he wore those clothes. Some days he chose to wear his merch, while other days you'd pick an outfit for him. You remembered how he used to love it when you wore his clothes, even if they looked bigger on you.

And you loved wearing them, because it smelt just like him. A scent you grew to love over the past years. Making a quick decision without thinking twice, you took off your shirt and put one of his hoodies on, inhaling deeply.

One by one, you removed all his clothes from the closet placing them in boxes. Honestly, you had no idea what you'd do with it but you knew you can't keep them hanging up for so long either. Maybe you could ask Charles if he comes by.

Then you moved on to his jewelry. The day he died, he was wearing the crucifix chain. It was removed and given to you a few days later. You didn't know what to do with it. Same with his rings. The ring you were holding in the hospital was in your hand at the moment.

It was too big for you or else you could've worn it.

You checked the drawers just in case you missed anything, and you did. You gasped as soon as you saw it. A velvet box.

"No, no, no, please no." You muttered, as your hands shook while you reached out to grab it. It could've been something else. It didn't have to be what you were thinking it was. That's why you opened to check it.

There it was, a shiny engagement ring with a nice big diamond in the middle. You choked on your breath and tears started spilling out of your eyes.

You fell to your knees, accidentally knocking something else over but you could care less about that.

"I'm going to make you my wife one day" Pierre told you while he was completely drunk. You laughed, his French accent more prominent now. You were helping him get ready for bed after a fun night out. "Is that right? Did you buy a ring yet?" You asked, but he shook his head. "No."

"Are you ready to be stuck with me for the rest of your life?" You teased, not expecting to get a serious answer since he struggled to get his shirt off. You slapped his hands away and started undoing the buttons. "I've been ready, ma chérie. Mrs. Gasly, how does that sound?"

You pushed him on the bed, and he easily went. Straddling him, you kissed his cheek. "That sounds amazing, darling. Ask me when you're sober."

Daniel heard the commotion coming from your room and immediately rushed to find you. Well as best as he could which was a funny look since he was speed limping. You would've laughed if you saw him like that.

He saw you sat on the floor with something in your hand which he couldn't see until he came closer. "Oh my god." He muttered. He couldn't imagine the amount of pain you felt. Everything was going so well until it wasn't. Another reminder of what he took away from you.

He crouched down, touching your shoulder which seemed to bring you out of your thoughts. "He was- he was going to propose, Daniel." You hiccuped in between your cries.

"He told me that he couldn't wait to marry me but he didn't have the ring then." You told him while he held you against him. The warmth of his body slightly comforting.

You and Pierre were planning your life out, of what it would look like after his racing career. But now, that dream will never come true. It would just stay a dream. That realization hurt a lot more than it should've.

Moving away from Daniel, you picked up the phone. Calling the one other person who you assumed knew about this. "Char, did you know?" You asked as soon as he picked up.

"Know what? Are you okay, do you need me to come over?" He asked, worried. You shook your head not realizing he couldn't see you, "no Charles, did you know he was going to propose?"

There was a silence on the other end which made you sob. "I'm coming over." He stated and hung up.

You made eye contact with Daniel after tossing the phone somewhere. He didn't know what to do, awkwardly sitting there. It took you two seconds before you were back in his arms, crying on his shoulder.

Charles found you two like that, joining in on the hug. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, I didn't think you'd see it." He confessed after seeing the ring in your hand.

You pulled away, a smile on your face despite the tears. You laughed a bit, scaring the two men looking at you. "He really loved me that much huh?" You said out loud.

"He loved me so much that even after he left, it would be enough to last me a lifetime." You continued your thought while returning to sobs.

"I miss you baby, I miss you so much." You muttered to yourself as you covered your face with you hands.

From that day onward, you had finally processed the fact that he wasn't returning. Yes you missed him, his voice, his laugh, his everything but you accepted it, even though the hole in your heart was irreplaceable.

Instead of pushing away the grief because you didn't want to deal with it, didn't know how, you acknowledged your feelings. You were working on it, day by day.

You didn't wear the ring, nor did you get rid of it. It was a bittersweet proof of the fact that you could've had it all.

[vroom63]

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.

[lecsainz]

Hotel Room

pairings: pierre gasly x horner!reader

warnings: room cards exchanged, pierre almost hit by a vase, christian horner being a cool uncle and pierre shamelessly flirting.

authors note: even though it's very short, i had fun writing it.

word count: 680

Pierre Gasly arrived at his hotel after a long day of practice sessions. As he walked towards the reception to check-in, he received a card key from the receptionist, and without bothering to check the name or room number, he went straight up to his room.

Once inside, he put his bag down and noticed that there was a towel on the floor. Confused, he walked towards the bathroom to investigate, and that's when he saw her - a beautiful woman, wearing only a towel, walking out of the shower.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Y/N yelled, grabbing a vase and holding it defensively.

Pierre, taken aback by the situation, tried to explain that he was given the wrong room and that he was just as surprised as she was.

"Hey, stop! I didn't know this was your room! And put down that vase, you might hurt yourself." Pierre said, trying to calm her down.

"You can't just barge in here like that!" Y/N exclaimed, throwing the vase at him, causing Pierre to duck out of the way just in time.

"Get out of my room!" Y/N continued to scream, picking up anything she could find and throwing it at him.

"Okay, okay, fine. I'll leave. But you're the one who invaded my room, you know. And by the way, you look really nice in that towel." Pierre said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N glared at him, not amused. "Just get out!" shouted, throwing a bottle of shampoo at Pierre.

He ducked as the shampoo bottle sailed over his head and crashed against the wall.

Pierre realized that she wasn't going to listen to him, so he grabbed his bag and made his way towards the door. As he was leaving, Y/N's phone rang, and she answered it, still angry. "Hello?"

“Y/N, I just got a call from the hotel. They told me that Pierre Gasly, the driver for Alpine, was given the wrong room key and ended up in your room by mistake. Is everything okay?" Christian Horner asked, concerned.

Y/N's eyes widened in realization. "Oh my god, that's what happened. I thought he was some random guy who had broken into my room. I threw a vase at him and everything."

Christian let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness he's okay. I'm glad it was just a misunderstanding. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just embarrassed now." Y/N said, feeling mortified about her earlier behavior.

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. These things happen. I'll call the hotel and make sure everything's sorted out." Christian reassured her.

After Christian hung up Pierre turned around, curious about what was going on. Y/N hung up the phone and looked at him with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea who you were. My uncle is Christian Horner, the boss of Red Bull Racing. He's going to kill me."

Pierre couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry about it. It's an honest mistake. And it's not every day that I get to meet the niece of one of the most important people in my sport."

Y/N gave him a small smile. "I guess you're right. I'm sorry for overreacting."

"It's okay. And by the way, I really did mean it when I said you look nice in that towel," Pierre said with a wink.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help but laugh. "You're such a flirt, Pierre."

"Guilty as charged." Pierre said, grinning.

"Well, now that we've cleared that up, I guess we should introduce ourselves properly," Y/N said, extending her hand. "I'm Y/N."

"Pierre,” Pierre said, shaking her hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle.”

Y/N smiled at Pierre. "You can just call me Y/N."

"Y/N it is then," Pierre said with a smile. "So, now that we've met under such interesting circumstances, can I buy you a drink or something to make up for the misunderstanding?"

Y/N chuckled. "Sure, why not? But only if you promise to tell me more about yourself and what you do."

"Deal." Pierre said, grinning.

[neverinadream]

I'm Tired Of Leaving

Summary: Fate was determined to keep the two of you a part, so you've always settled for a part of him. What do you do now that he wants to have all of you?

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope - another self indulgent fic, I am so sorry to anyone who does send in request, I will write them

Song Inspo: Take On The World - You Me At Six

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut to angsty fluff, fwb!pierre, fwb to lovers, dom!pierre, sub!reader, pet names (baby, good girl, chérie...), praise kink, protected sex, hair pulling, choking, spitting, pierre's favourite position, some body worshiping, smoking, not proofread

Notes: the flow is a little clunky with this one but oh well. feedback is appreciated, it helps me a lot

He leans into your ear, hot breath fanning your face, a strangled gasp leaving your lips as you feel him pulling on your hair. "I missed this, chérie," he moans, deep, grizzly groans falling into your ear each time he pushes his cock back inside.

His grip tightens, pulling until you neck was craned back, your body was arched away from the mattress, and the back of your head resting against the centre of his chest, your eyes staring up into his. Something about the way he towered over you made you feel small but had your pussy clenching around him. "Open your mouth," he grins as your eager go to please, your lips parting, the corners curving as you grin in anticipation, "good girl."

You moan, feeling his spit hitting your tongue and closing your mouth to swallow it before he has a chance to tell you. "You're pure filth, Pierre," you bite your bottom lip, despite loving that about him.

"And what does that make you, huh?" He released your hair, making a comment in French under his breath, his hand now finding place around your neck. The laugh that leaves his lips is dark and silky as you squeeze around him. "Remember that thing you did for me the last time we were together?" He asks you, slowing down to hold off the inevitable of another encounter between you ending. "I think some would argue that to be just as filthy."

Your fingers weave through his messy hair, your hand reaching behind to touch him as he presses his lips to your neck, kissing the spot just behind your ear. "I remember," you respond, pushing your hips back to meet each of his.

"I think it was your best work yet," he mumbles, sliding his hand away from your neck and down the front of your body. The tips of his fingers ghost over your breasts and down your stomach, stopping once his hand was between your legs. You can't see it, but you feel his smile pressing into your neck as he listens to the sharp gasp leaving your lips as he rubs two fingers against your clit.

"I looked at them the other night," he confesses to you, his free hand creeping back around your neck, keeping your body pressed against his, "thought about that night - thought about you - as I stroked my cock; thought about you laid on this bed, your lips swollen and your lipstick all smudged, my hickies all over your chest, your legs spread out for me to see this perfect pussy, all aching and glistening for me-" He takes a second to steady his breath, mumbling something in his native tongue, as he tries to calm himself, his imagination getting the better of him. "You looked so fucking beautiful for me that night!"

"You were the artist that night," your cheeks are red hot from his omission, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach and the whooshiness in your head hard to deny, "I was just the canvas."

"The perfect canvas," he praises your body, groaning as your pussy clenches around him.

Your hand cradles the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck, as his forehead presses into your shoulder, shallow breaths hitting the top of your back. For a few seconds, all that can be heard is just the two of you breathing heavily, a whimper and a moan heard coming from your own lips as the muscles grow tighter in your stomach.

"Pierre," you whimper his name, digging your nails into neck, the pressure becoming unbearable as it builds up, "I-so close-"

"Gonna cum for me like you did that night?" He asks, kissing your shoulder and your neck. "Gonna do it again for me?"

You nod your head, swallowing down a moan.

"Good," he mumbles, half-chuckling under his breath, almost relieved even, "because I don't think I could hold it any longer."

Neither of you say another word, him letting your body collapse softly onto the mattress, your face buried in the pillow, as his hands hold onto your hips. From behind, he leans back to watch his hard cock being swallowed up by your cunt as he thrusts into you, which had become sloppier the closer he was to finishing.

You own face, though hidden in the soft cushion of the pillow, shows off your pleasure, your expression bliss-like, as your orgasm rings in your ears and pulsates around your body. The tight spasms of your body clenching tightly has Pierre finishing inside the condom, half strangled gasps for air filling your bedroom as he reaches for the headboard, trying not to collapse on top of you.

"Those will kill you one day," Pierre finds you later at your window, the hatch pushed open so you could sit on the fire escape. At your feet was an astray, a previous failed sculpture of yours you had made years ago, and a cigarette hung loose between your fingers. You mumble something about only having one life, before taking a drag of the cigarette and blowing the smoke away from you. "Move," he mutters, wanting to sit with you.

You stub what was left of your cigarette out in the centre of the ashtray, nudging the faded green ceramic away with your foot, before shuffling across the window ledge to give him some space. "Better?" He hums, touching the soft of your hip hidden beneath his shirt as you lean into him. "You smell like you just had nasty sex," you joke, attempting to hold off the inevitable that would be him leaving.

His laugh rings in your ears, caught off by surprise. "What a coincidence because so do you," he joins in on the joke, "I hope they were worth it."

"Meh," you make a sound, shrugging your shoulders, suddenly gasping as he tickles your sides, "I've had better."

He kisses your shoulder, mumbling something in French under his breath that you were sure was probably something along the lines of no one does it better than me. "I get why you like this city so much," he kisses your shoulder again, turning his head to look out of the window, "it's beautiful at night." Your apartment wasn't in the heart of the city but it was close enough to get a nice view of the city lights at night.

"It's beautiful in the daytime too," you throw back, picking at loose thread, "not that you would know." It was almost a tradition at this point that he would fly in, unannounced for the most part, spend the night and leave before you've woken up. It was a rinse and repeat cycle that happened every few weeks. And...you were fine with that.

At least now you were.

"And you can show me just how beautiful it is when we wake up in the morning," he replies, earning himself a expression of bewilderment as you adjust yourself to face him, tucking one leg under the other. His hand touches your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "You heard me," he mumbles, answering an unspoken question that hung in your eyes, "I'm not leaving this time."

"You're not?" He shakes his head, your stomach feeling full with butterflies as you take in his soft features. "Why?"

"'Cause i'm tired of leaving," his fingers are still touching your cheek, his thumb against the corner of your mouth as it curves with a smile, "I'm done waiting for there to be a right time for us; why can't I just love all of you now?"

You shrug your shoulders, "because Fate and her dear friend Love are cruel, heartless bastards."

His hands cradle your face as he comes closer, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes gazing down at yours. "What do you say?" He whispers so only you can hear him, for fear Fate herself could hear you both. "Care to take on Fate with me?"

"Depends," you hum, "what's your weapon of choice?"

He frowns. "My weapon-?"

"Yes," you stress, giggling at confusion, "fate is one tricky bastard. You're going to need a good weapon if you want to defeat her." Quickly sensing your scarcasm, he rolls his eyes, shaking his head and half-smiles at you. "I was thinking-"

"-stop thinking and kiss me," he interrupts you, drawing you in closer. The rest of your thoughts are swallowed up by his mouth, the softness of his lips making you melt in his hands. "I think our love will be stronger than any weapon you can think of," he murmurs against your lips, kissing you once more.

You pull away, scrunching your face up. "Oh, you mushy bastard."

"Only for you."

F1 Taglist: @enjoymyloves