#piarthur
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They're talking about us
#max verstappen#charles leclerc#lestappen#pierre gasly#arthur leclerc#f1#lando norris#piarles#piarthur#formula 1
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happy bday @milflewis i fucking adore you youre literally my favourite. i couldnt sleep bcs this story kinda gripped me by the throat and you were complaining the other day, so i hope you enjoy <3 this is pure indulgence :)
"Are you ready, petit?" Charles asks. He is glowing in his dark red clothes and his golden mask, and he isn't even trying to conceal who he is for the masquerade. Arthur knows all eyes will be on Charles anyways, as they always are. Charled shines so bright, it gives both Arthur and Lorenzo more than enough shade to hide themselves if they wish to do so. Lolo usually does, and he will keep hiding for as long as he can, protecting them from the shadows. Arthur... is not sure he wishes to hide for much longer. "We are late already, and we should make an entrance. You know the Court loves a spectacle, and we should make sure their eyes are on us. We need their favour, still. At least for a while more."
Arthur also knows Charles cares only for one pair of eyes and one person's favour, and there is no guarantee Captain Vettel will even be there, with the Navy's assignments to the M-- Sea. He observes Charles' nervous movements, his hands flying to fix a stray lock of hair, and he can't help but feel pity for his brother. Charles loves so fully and so freely that his heartbreak is imminent. Arthur admires him for it, but he also wishes Charles followed his head more than his heart sometimes. He won't say anything; there is no sense to it. Charles will not listen.
"I will not be joining your dramatic entrance, Charles." Arthur forces himself to laugh carelessly, when his whole body feels like it is on fire. "The point of the masquerade is to conceal our identities, and that will be impossible if I were to walk in with you, Il Predestinato."
Charles blushes, and Arthur's laugh turns genuine. "Alright," Charles concedes, his eyes staring straight into Arthur's and seeing more than Arthur is comfortable with. "I know you have something planned, petit, and I know you will not tell me what. Just, be careful? Please? I worry for you."
Arthur swallows heavily. People like to underestimate Charles and his intelligence, but Arthur should know better. Charles taught him everything he knew after all.
"You need not worry, brother," he says softly. "Nothing important is on the line if my plan fails."
Charles does not really look like he believes him, bit he lets it go nonetheless. Arthur fixes his smile just like he fixes his mask, and does not pray for success. He will either make it himself, or he will not have it at all.
---
The masquerade ball is a raging success. Arthur basically sneaks in through the servants' entrance, determined to protect his anonymity. He watches Charles for a while, smiles at the way people fawn over him and the way Charles graces them all with his attention. Arthur could never do it; it is too grating, too exhausting, to be so adored. Merely observing his brother tires him out. He knows Charles is filling the empty space in his heart with these meaningless interactions, and if Arthur believed in gods, he would ask them only for the happiness for his brother. He does not, though, so he asks the universe for Charles' love not to be in vain. Charles needs support in a way that Arthur doesn't, because Arthur and Charles will always go for what they want even if it's doomed for failure, but the difference is that Arthur knows when to let go of a doomed quest. Charles does not.
It is past midnight and everyone's inhibitions are effectively gone. Arthur has danced with ladies and gentlemen both, and laughed at their inquiries about his identity. He even approached Charles and asked his brother for a dance, and Charles' eyes sparkled in mirth as he let Arthur lead him through the steps and he laughed freely as Arthur commented on the appearances and the gossip he's heard as he made his way through the people gathered for the festivities. When Charles faltered in his steps, about to ask a question, Arthur had only shook his head. I have not seen him, he tried to convey, and Charles gave him a sad smile of understanding before pulling Arthur in for another dance, against all decorum. Arthur let him lead, and they both delighted in the scandalous gasps they elicited.
Now, Arthur stands leaning against a column, unwilling to admit defeat. He will find who he is looking for tonight. He looks over the crowd as he sips his drink, and it is by divine grace or perhapd by magic that he hears the familiar laughter he had been searching for the whole night. He turns towards the sound and drinks the rest of his wine, leaving the glass on a table he passes.
The man who is laughing with two ladies wears a stylised fox mask, and Arthur cannot contain his amusement. He approaches the little group just as a server passes by him, and he vows to make it up to the poor man as he moves so that he can trip him. The man goes down in a heap, and both ladies yelp. The man's eyes narrow, but Arthur acts quickly. He grabs the man's hand and pulls, ducking behind a column and into a passageway he has discovered some time ago. The man puts up little resistance, and the commotion from behind them fades out somewhat.
The moment they are out of sight, Arthur finds himself pressed against the wall.
"Who are you, and what do you want from me?" Pierre Gasly asks, and Arthur would recognize that Rouen lilt even half-deaf. Just like he would recognize the blue of Pierre's eyes, their unnaturally bright colour emphasised by the dark-red edges of the fox mask he wears. "Answer me," Pierre commands, and Arthur thinks of how he would be glad to do whatever Pierre wanted him to. He knows he cannot say this, and he knows Pierre does not recognize him. The realisation both thrills and dejects him somewhat, for is he not more memorable? Should Pierre not know him, when they have spent almost as much time together as Pierre and Charles did in their youth and when it has not been less than two years since Pierre left on his assignment to the Navy?
Pierre is staring at him, his arm across Arthur's chest strong and unmoving. Arthur raises his hands and puts them on Pierre's forearm. His heart beats wildly in his throat when he says "A kiss."
Pierre blinks, twice. His eyes fall down to Arthur's lips, the only part of his face not covered by his own mask, and Arthur supresses a shiver when Pierre's eyes turn dark.
"A kiss?" he asks, and Arthur has always found Pierre's smirk stupidly attractive. "Only that?"
"Yes," Arthur replies, willing his voice not to shake. "Merely a kiss."
Pierre does not look away from Arthur's eyes, searching for something in them. "A kiss," he says contemplatively. He licks his lips. "I can do that."
Before Arthur can say anything, Pierre removes his arm from Arthur's chest and leans in. Arthur does not get a chance to react, for Pierre's lips are on his and oh - oh.
He raises his arms again and throws them over Pierre's shoulders, holds on as Pierre presses him into the wall even further. His body presses against Arthur's everywhere and his lips are wonderfully soft as they move against Arthur's. Arthur has his hands in Pierre's hair, and Pierre's hands press into the dips of Arthur's hips. They burn even through all the clothes, and Arthur lets himself enjoy the way Pierre feels. He is a good kisser, must have had a lot of practice which does not surprise Arthur in the least. He's wanted to kiss Pierre Gasly since he realised he wanted to kiss people in general, and he cannot begrudge anyone else who wished to do so, too. He isn't sure he will get another chance, though, so he vows to make the most of this kiss.
Pierre is the one who breaks off the kiss first. He groans and leans his forehead against Arthur's, his hands still pressing into Arthur's hips, his breathing ragged. Arthur's isn't much better, and he grasps at Pierre's shoulders and holds on, keeping his eyes closed, unwilling to speak and interrupt this moment.
"Merde," Pierre breathes against his lips. "I did not know - I could not have imagined - petit," Pierre says, and Arthur's eyes fly open in shock, because -
"Did you really think I would not know you?" Pierre asks, and Arthur cannot speak. "Did you think I would have forgotten you?"
Arthur looks into Pierre's eyes instead of focusing on his self-satisfied smile, and there is kindness in them, and desire which Arthur is sure is mirrored in his own face, or whatever is visible of it.
"I do not know what I thought," he whispers, "except that I wanted a kiss."
"And now that you've got it, what shall we do?" Pierre asks, and Arthur cannot help but roll his eyes.
"You are quite insufferable," he says without any malice. "Do you know that?"
"Oh, I know." Pierre smirks. "And you like it." Arthur hums noncommitaly, and Pierre chuckles. "And what if I wanted another kiss, Arthur?" He rubs the edge of his mask against Arthur's. "What then, petit?"
Arthur smiles despite himself, because dawn may bring whatever she wants, but this night belongs to Arthur and his victory.
"I think," he says very slowly, "that I would be amenable."
This time, Arthur is the one who reaches for Pierre first, and their kiss is even better this time because Arthur is quite certain it will not be the last one.
---
"And where is my brother?" Charles asks as he is following Sebastian outside for a respite. Sebastian, who had observed the way Arthur moved towards where Lieutenant Gasly was, only smiles.
"I saw him step away with a friend," he says, and Charles nods. "I believe he is in good hands, Charles. Do not fret."
Charles laughs, then shakes his head. "I do not believe I will ever cease to worry about my brother," he says, "but I also trust your word, Captain." He smiles, and Sebastian cannot berate himself for attending the masquerade when faced with that smile. "Do not let me down."
Sebastian bites back the words he wants to say, promises he wants to make and is not sure he would be able to keep, not with the kind of life he leads, and offers his hand to Charles.
"I will do my best," he says seriously.
"That is all I ever wanted from you," Charles replies, and puts his hand into Sebastian's.
#do not think about the world im putting this in. idek what the world is. its too late and im too tired#anyways!#love you!!#one! braincell bestie#f1 rpf#piarthur#sebchal#(that was PURELY self infulgent and i take no criticism)#effervescentdragonwrites#my writing#pierre/arthur#absolute shoutout to river who said. i just think they have pretty eyes and would look nice in masks. and then this happened
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that's his brother-in-law
#pierre gasly#arthur leclerc#alpinierre#alpine f1#piarthur#is that a tag?? 🤔#hmmmmm i do think i'd like to make it one#something something pierre being part of the leclerc family just always gets me so 💙💙💙#(as a piarles girlie i have to say it: part of the family by marriage <3)#but shipping aside#the way these two families' friendships run so deep and genuine will never not make my day 💙#💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙#🦑🏎️ in laws
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Pierre&Arthur and sth about Monaco or yachts
happy birthday bestie !! (threw in some background sebchal for you) hope you like it <3
“Pierre?”
“Hmm?” Pierre refuses to open his eyes, stretched out along one of the couches on the deck of Charles’ yacht. He arches his back a little, feeling it pop pop pop.
“When are you going to fuck me?”
It takes a second for the question to register but when it does, he sits up so quickly his head swims, black spots blurring the edges of his vision. Arthur is sitting on the floor a few feet away from him, lying back propped up on his elbows. Pierre tries to not stare at the wide sprawl of his legs, how his shorts rise up, the pale skin of his inner thigh obvious. Arthur is watching him, head titled, mouth red from the strawberries he was eating earlier, as if he didn’t just nearly give Pierre a heart attack five seconds ago.
“Um, what,” he asks, stalling for time, trying to half smile in an attempt to begin to laugh off whatever joke Arthur has come up with. Because it must be a joke. It must be.
Arthur just stares at him, unusually serious, and Pierre’s stomach goes cold. “When,” Arthur starts, “are you going to fuck me?”
Pierre blinks once, twice, and pulls at the hair on his thighs to see if he’s dreaming. He’s not.
“Um,” Pierre says, and somewhere Yuki is laughing at him but doesn’t know why, and he swallows, throat clicking.
Arthur raises an eyebrow, curls glowing light at the edges, hair long around his ears. There’s still slight pink marks along his jaw where he had been napping up until a few minutes ago, body loose and easy with sun warm sleep.
“Listen,” Pierre starts and then stop when he realises that actually he doesn’t know what to say here. Arthur keeps watching him, eyes blue and lashes long, mouth a little tight in the corners.
Pierre blinks. When are you going to fuck me, Arthur had said, like he had been expecting it, like he had been waiting for it, like he was desperate for it and couldn’t wait any longer.
Charles had given him a two litre thing of sunscreen yesterday, after they had eaten dinner and played cod with Lewis online. He burns very easily, Charles had shrugged, but he always forgets to put it on. He had rolled his eyes then, nose and cheeks pink with the sun. Pierre hadn’t said anything. Make sure he puts it on after swimming, yes, Charles had insisted. And any other, ah, activities where you, um, sweat. Pierre had just laughed, taking the bottle, a little confused but mostly fond of how Charles tries to take care of Arthur even when he can barely take care of himself. Charles had grinned at him, the skin on his shoulders peeling slightly.
When are you going to fuck me.
When.
Not if.
Yuki is probably choking on his laughter at this point. Arthur is very very still on the deck below him, fingers curled into the wood.
He could laugh it off, he knows, and part of him really really wants to. It’d be easier in a way, less complicated, if he does. But he would lose him. He would lose Arthur if he turns this into a joke, in a way where he never lost Alex or Daniel or Yuki. Arthur, with his Lorenzo and his Charles and his bone deep knowledge of how beloved he is and the solid uncertainty that comes with being a Leclerc, would walk away from Pierre and his shame if he tried to make it Arthur’s. If he tried to make it theirs.
I am surrounded by bravery, he thinks, not for the first time, and not for the last time, wishes some of it could rub off on him.
He thinks of Lewis, always always smiling at Valtteri and Valtteri who never fails to look right back, even when he’s looking up. He thinks of Seb, who grinned at him, years ago, when he caught him watching a sweaty champagne drenched Lewis a little too closely and just winked, and the way he stands still in a sport so fast and waits for Charles to catch up.
He looks at Arthur, at his bitten down fingernails and light blond hair dusting the tops of his feet and thinks, I want to be brave for you. I want to be brave for us.
Pierre leans back into the couch, legs slipping open, and watches Arthur breathe in deep, shuddering only slightly, as Pierre says, “I could do it now if you like.”
Arthur pauses for a second before getting to his feet, swaying with the boat, all long limbs and skin. He’s heavy and warm when he climbs into Pierre’s lap, knees either side of his hips. Pierre runs his fingers through the hair on Arthur’s thighs, dragging his nails a little, watching as his skin goosebumps.
“I like,” Arthur says, eyes bright and brilliant and unforgiving. Arthur is the youngest of three, grew up watching all the places where Charles would falter and fall. He is softer than Charles, more present in a way Charles will never be, but meaner. There is a harshness in him that Charles never allowed himself to have. Pierre worries for him less.
“But do you like me?” Arthur asks, eyes still bright, hands in Pierre’s hair, fingers running along his left ear.
Pierre is finding it a little hard to think properly, with Arthur Leclerc sitting on him, miles of warm skin and muscle under his hands.
“Yeah,” Pierre says, even though he kind of wants to run away and never look back. Even though he never wants Arthur to stop looking at him. “Yeah, I do.”
Arthur melts easily against him when Pierre tugs him in, pressing his mouth along Arthur’s jaw. He tastes of salt and sunscreen and Pierre groans as Arthur pulls him up by the hair to kiss him properly, sharp and insistent. He swipes a thumb over Arthur’s cheek, fingers curling along his jaw.
“Easy, easy,” Pierre murmurs, trying to slow them down, Arthur’s breaths coming in fast and fluttering.
“Easy,” Pierre says, licking into Arthur’s mouth, kissing him slow and deep. “I want you. We got all the time in the world, baby.”
#pierre is overdramatic n v gay n arthur is beautiful n done with his shit#i am obsessed with this ship omg thank u for this#hugging u so hard rn#piarthur#one! braincell bestie#stuff i wrote#f1 rpf fic#fic.asks
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CHARLES: Shut up you're so annoying, I hate you
MAX: Says who? You? Who has a meme with the phrase "I'm stupid"?
ARTHUR: He literally sits on his lap
PIERRE: I know right?
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ARTHUR: Charles Marc Hervé Percival Leclerc, where were you?
CHARLES: I um have some interviews
PIERRE: Interviews huh?
LORENZO: Are you sure Charles?
CHARLES: I'm totally sure, why shouldn't I?
ARTHUR: Because I saw you twenty minutes ago at our favorite restaurant with Max
CHARLES: Fuck and I told him not to go there
#charles leclerc#max verstappen#lestappen#pierre gasly#arthur leclerc#piarthur#piarles#f1#formula 1#lorenzo leclerc
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PIERRE: I still don't know why you haven't confess to Max your feelings for him
CHARLES: Maybe because he will reject me
ARTHUR: Okay enough, go to your room, because we will not have this conversation again, you are stupid
CHARLES: What?
LANDO: Now
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CHARLES: Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
*He kept singing*
PIERRE: Is he okay?
ARTHUR: He's alright, he's trying to forget what happened at the Grand Prix
MAX: I can help him
*He said with a smirk*
ARTHUR: I don't want to know about your sex life with my brother
PIERRE: That is not what he means
MAX: Sassy come here
*His cat went to him, and he placed her to Charles lap and Charles started playing with Sassy*
ARTHUR: It worked
*But then Charles started singing again while he was playing with the cat*
PIERRE: Or maybe not
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MAX: Are you single?
CHARLES: Why, are you interested?
MAX: Maybe, maybe I am
CHARLES: Then yes, I'm single
ARTHUR: I feel like throwing up
PIERRE: Me too, let's get out of here
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CHARLES: Am I annoying?
MAX: What? No Charles, why do you think that?
CHARLES: Arthur told me that I'm annoying, because I'm always asking him, if Pierre did something Arthur didn't like
MAX: Charles, I know that he's your brother but Arthur is not a little kid anymore, so stop being overprotective
CHARLES: But-
MAX: No but, now watch the movie
#charles leclerc#max verstappen#lestappen#charles leclerc fic#max verstappen fic#lestappen fic#pierre gasly#pierre gasly fic#arthur leclerc#arthur leclerc fic#piarthur
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PIERRE: Arthur?
ARTHUR: Yes?
PIERRE: Do you think that Charles and Max have a relationship?
ARTHUR: I mean yes. Clearly, look how they look at each other
PIERRE: They're so cute, all shy.
ARTHUR: We're cuter
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PIERRE: Max I need you to keep busy Charles tonight
MAX: Why?
PIERRE: So that I would be able to spend a night alone with Arthur
MAX: You know that me and Charles hate each other, how can I keep him busy for tonight so you could stay with his little brother
PIERRE: Come on mate, you and Charles are completely in love with each other, you will probably disagree over a stupid thing, you will yell at each other and then you will have an angry make out session and then you will confess your feelings
MAX: There is no way this will happen
*Two hours later*
MAX: Pierre was right
CHARLES: Huh?
MAX: Nothing baby, let's sleep
CHARLES: Okay
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LEWIS: Pierre, do you think that they still hate each other?
PIERRE: I don't think so
LEWIS: What do you mean?
GEORGE: He means that, Charles looks at Max, like he's a Ferrari
ARTHUR: And Max looks at my brother like he is a chocolate cake
-
CHARLES: Hey Ferrari
MAX: Hey chocolate
#charles leclerc#pierre gasly#arthur leclerc#max verstappen#lestappen#lewis hamilton#george russell#piarthur
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Give me a chance so I can move on 🙏🏻
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Reject me so I can move on
#charles leclerc#max verstappen#lestappen#pierre gasly#arthur leclerc#piarthur#lando norris#oscar piastri#oscando
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It's raining like hell outside, and guess what, I have to go to school. I would like not to go and see old f1 races, more specific Charles win in Monza
#charles leclerc#max verstappen#lestappen#pierre gasly#arthur leclerc#lando norris#piarles#piarthur#formula 1#f1#i don't wanna go back to school
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