#pierre gasly oneshots | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

formulapierre · 4 months

Text

If You Love Her | Pierre Gasly

Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Reader

Prompt : Based off of the song 'If you love her' by Forest Blakk. You finally decide to give Pierre your everything and you get his everything in return, except the universe seems to have other plans.

Warnings: Life changing injuries; Any other language apart from English was done by google translate, apologies for anything incorrect x

Word Count: 5261

Song: If you love her - Forest Blakk

Take it If she gives you her heart, don't you break it

“I'm ready to let you in,” You say, you had been guarding your heart for months now; scared, no, terrified of being betrayed again by someone who told you they loved you.

“Then let me in cherie,” He says with a smile as he gently cups your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I love you…” You say. He had said it a few weeks ago, assuring you there was no pressure for you to say it back. You had met through a mutual friend, that being your ex-boyfriend, who at one point in time had been Pierre’s best friend. Though after seeing everything He had done to you and seeing how damaged you were; both of you decided never to speak of him again.

“I love you too,” He says softly, bringing you in for a gentle kiss. “So much,” He adds, causing you to blush. You were then, and still are now, surprised that someone like him could love someone like you.

Let your arms be a place she feels safe in She's the best thing that you'll ever have

“You need to leave,” Pierre said calmly to the guy who had been pounding on the door to your apartment for the last ten minutes, adamant on talking to you.

“Mate, just let me talk to her,” He said, voice holding strong.

“She doesn’t want you here, and neither do I,” Pierre replies, looking over at your tear-stained face as you sit on the couch. “Cherie, go into our bedroom, you don’t need to hear any of this,” He says and you quickly follow his advice.

“Just go home, neither of us are opening the door for you. Y/N Is gone, she can’t hear you,” He tells your ex-boyfriend who was still adamant on seeing you.

“Ma-,” Your Ex goes to say before Pierre cuts him off.

“I’m not your ‘mate’ anymore. And I’m fed up now, I just want to go and make sure Y/N’s ok, so I’ll put this plainly for you. If you don’t leave in the next 30 seconds, I will call the police,” He said bluntly. There’s one last bang on the door before it all goes quiet. Pierre pulls up the security feed from the camera outside the door and sees your Ex begrudgingly walking back towards the elevators. He sighs in relief as the camera loses sight of him. Pierre quickly makes his way into your bedroom and finds you curled up underneath a mound of blankets.

“Hi cherie, it’s just me,” He says getting onto the bed next to you. You almost immediately turn over and cuddle into his chest. “What do you need?” He asks, wanting more than anything to take this feeling away

“I just need you to hold me,” You say as you cling to the shirt he was wearing, not wanting him to leave you.

“I can do that” He says with a smile as he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you.

She always has trouble falling asleep And she likes to cuddle while under the sheets

Yourinstagram

Liked by PierreGasly and 391,683 others...

yourinstagram Life lately...

yourbestfriend People either want to be you, or be with you 🤩

PierreGasly Missing you Cherie <3

Load more comments...

Pierre had been gone for what felt like ages, in reality it had only been a few weeks and you had facetimed each other most nights. Falling asleep next to each other was something you had both become very accustomed to. You knew his flight arrived in the small hours of the morning into Malpensa Airport and he made you promise that you wouldn’t wait up for him. You had settled into bed slightly later than you normally would, opting for one of your favourite movies and eventually falling asleep.

You didn’t hear the front door to the apartment as he came in. Drop his suitcases and carry on by the door before heading straight for your bedroom. He kicked his shoes off and got undressed before slipping into bed next to you. You had fallen asleep facing his side of the bed, wanting to see him when he got back and luckily you did. As the bed dipped and he moved closer to you, you slowly woke up; arms instantly reaching out for him as he made himself comfortable.

“Missed you whilst you were away” You say as He wraps his arms around you.

“I missed you too Cherie,” He says, kissing the top of your head.

“Glad you’re finally home,” You add sleepily as you cuddle into him, resting your head on his chest as he pulls the sheets over you both.

“-and I’m not going anywhere,” He says as you fall back to sleep, just as quickly as you woke up.

She loves pop songs and dancing, and bad trash TV

It had been a fairly productive day on your part, you had mailed a letter to your Grandma, sent a package to your Aunt with birthday presents for your niece and nephew and gone grocery shopping. You were slightly surprised when you found the apartment unlocked; cursing at yourself as you had evidently forgotten to lock it. You turned the handle and pushed the door open with your foot as you had grocery bags in your hands.

“I can help,” Pierre says coming out of the kitchen and taking some of the bags from your hands,

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a pleasantly surprised smile on your face. He must have been back a while as the living room was now tidy and He was in the process of doing the kitchen. Music was playing in the background, though it wasn’t his music, it was yours…

“I took the day off,” He says as you put the bags down on the kitchen counter; He takes you into his arms and you both start to sway to the music. “I thought we could start the new season of that reality tv show you watch,” He adds, spinning you round. “Oh, and I picked up that album you’ve been listening to on vinyl,” He says as you both dance around the kitchen.

There's still a few other things She loves love notes and babies and likes giving gifts Has a hard time accepting a good compliment

‘Good Morning, mon cherie, i woke up early this morning so have decided to get a quick gym session in before we leave; i won’t be too long and then i'll bring you breakfast in bed. Maman isn’t expecting us until 11 so we’ve got a couple hours before we need to catch our flight. I can’t wait for you to see what I got you.

I love you more than you’ll ever know , P x

Pierre certainly delivered on his promise as the next time you saw him He had breakfast in hand, both of your bags packed next to the closet door as He got back into bed. You spent an hour in bed together before you had to get up and get ready to go. You had been looking forward to Christmas with Pierre’s family for months, slightly disappointed that you weren’t going to see your family until the 27th.

She loves hеr whole family and all of her friends So if you'rе the one she lets in

The jet touched down at the airport in Paris, a rental car waiting for us on the tarmac as we grabbed our bags. The drive from here to Rouen was pretty good and didn’t take too long so before You knew it you were pulling into the driveway. You could already see everyones cars parked up and there looked to be a few more than usual but you just chalked it up to Pierre having a large family and maybe there were a few more cousins joining you this year.

Pascale had spotted you as you drove down the driveway so was already on the doorstep waiting for you. She wrapped her arms around you both, telling you how much she had missed you. Even though she had seen you a few weeks ago at the Abu Dhabi GP she acted like she hadn’t seen you in years.

You were quickly ushered inside and out of the cold, as you were hanging your coat up you thought you saw someone you recognised, you thought it was your Mum…you laughed to yourself knowing there was no way it could have been her…must have been Pierre’s other cousins that parked their cars outside. Everyone was sitting around the fireplace watching a movie whilst Pascale and Pierre’s sister in law cooked christmas dinner.

“Uncle P!” His niece shouted when she saw him. Scrambling to get up and run into his arms, the other children quickly followed, they didn’t forget about you either. Pierre’s youngest niece is almost being more excited to see you. Then you thought you saw her again…and your Dad sat next to each other on the far couch, smiling back at you.

“Mum? Dad?” You ask and your Mum quickly comes over to you. “What are you guys doing here?” You ask looking between them.

“Pierre called, said you were annoyed you wouldn’t be seeing us today and that you wished you could have a huge family christmas so He invited us. I hope that’s alright?” She asks and you quickly nod.

“That's more than alright,” You reply, pulling her in for another hug. Growing up with no siblings or cousins, Christmas was always very quiet so you loved the years you were at Pierre’s with his entire family.

Take it If she gives you her heart, don't you break it Let your arms be a place she feels safe in She's the best thing that you'll ever have She'll love you, if you love her

PierreGasly

Liked by AlpineF1 and 891,183 others...

PierreGasly Christmas dumpp

yourdad Thanks for having us!

yourinstagram You are literally the loml 😍

Load more comments...

“You’re incredible you know that,” You say as you drive back towards the airport. It had been a busy few days with His family and you were glad you were finally heading home. You had made some amazing memories and it would be a Christmas you’d never forget.

“I’m glad you liked it Cherie,” Pierre said, squeezing your thigh lightly as he rested his hand there.

“No-one's ever done anything as thoughtful as that before…it really means a lot to me,” You say honestly.

“They should have done, you deserve the world Y/N,” He replies and you lace your fingers into his.

On days when It feels like the whole world might cave in Stand side by side and you'll make it She's the best thing that you'll ever have She'll love you, if you love her like that

yourinstagram

📍 Bahrain International Circuit, Bahrain

Liked by PascaleGasly and 501,183 others...

yourinstagram Tell a friend, to tell a friend...WE'RE BACKKKK!!!!!!!!

Unknown1 Pierre and Y/N are my roman empire

Unknown2 We've been waiting far too long for this...

WaGsF1 The 'IT' couple are backk!

Load more comments...

“-fuck!” Pierre shouts as he pulls his helmet off, he crosses the garage not sparing you a glance. He had collided with Alonso on the first corner, suffering too much damage so they had to retire the car. Honestly, a rookie mistake. But any little thing always caused Pierre to spiral. You gave him a few moments to calm down before you left your seat and headed towards his driver's room. As you walked in his race suit was strewn over the couch, fireproofs on the floor and boxers by the bathroom door. The sound of the shower was the giveaway.

You picked up his clothes, putting them into the laundry bag in the corner. He came out a few moments later, towel wrapped around his waist.

“I don’t know why I bother anymore,” He says to you as he uses another towel to dry his hair. “I’m not fucking good enough, this is my 7th season, I should not be making stupid mistakes like that,” He adds, collapsing onto the couch next to you.

“You are good enough Pierre, they wouldn’t have signed you if they didn’t think so,” You remind him.

“There were so many other people that should have gotten the seat…Doohan, Pourchaire, Martins? They’d all be doing a better fucking job than I am,” He says and you lean back against the couch, your fingers moving to thread themselves between Pierre’s damp hair.

“It’s only the first race of the season…you’re not completely comfortable with the car yet. It’s fine Pierre, it happens. But you are good enough and you do deserve to be here,” You assure him.

Kiss her with passion as much as you can

You were sitting in the back of his garage, headset on as you listened to the engineer chatter, you had always been interested in that kind of thing so any opportunity you get to listen in, you always take. Pierre was also in on the conversation, standing with the group of engineers. They were wrapping up the conversation when He came over to you, pulling the headset down and letting it hang around your neck. His finger moved under your shin and he pulled you into a slow and loving kiss.

“What was that for?” You ask breathlessly a few moments after he pulled away.

“-because you’re beautiful” He replies and you blush. He presses a final kiss to your forehead before he starts to put in his ear plugs and pull his balaclava on. A wide smile on his face as he walks away from you.

And when she doesn't notice how pretty she is Tell her over and over so she never forgets

The summer break could not have come soon enough, despite Pierre’s rocky start to the season He had managed to claw his way back, now sitting comfortably in 3rd in the drivers championship. To say it was his best season yet would be an understatement. But. All of that meant the pressure was on, and you were both starting to feel it. It was a unanimous decision that you needed a vacation and Bali was always a good idea. The flights had been booked only a few hours after the decision had been made, and ever since then you had been counting down the days.

“Are you sure this looks ok?” You ask Pierre as you get ready for a day at the beach. “You don’t think it's showing off a little bit too much?” You add as you look at yourself in the mirror. The dark green bikini you had chosen left very little to the imagination.

“Cherie you look stunning, you look beautiful in everything you wear” He assured you, coming up behind you and resting his head on your shoulder. “It’s Bali cherie, I guarantee there will be people wearing much less than you, right?” He asks, snaking his arms around your waist. “I think you look hot, and that’s all that matters,” He says as he starts to kiss your neck.

Take it If she gives you her heart, don't you break it Let your arms be a place she feels safe in

yourinstagram

📍 Bali, Indonesia

Liked by Charles_leclerc and 418,386 others...

yourinstagram When in doubt, go to Bali

Unknown4 That bikini is certainly brave...

Unknown5 God I wish i was them...

Unknown6 That is much more of y/n then anyone needs to see

Load more comments...

“I told you I shouldn’t have worn it…have you seen the comments? Pierre, look at them,” You say to him as you hold your phone up

“They’re just jealous cherie, you looked stunning…besides, it doesn’t matter what they think does it?” He asks, taking your phone, it's quickly turned off and placed on the coffee table.

“No…” You answer as he sits down on the couch next to you

“Exactly, come here,” He says pulling you into his arms, he knew that the comments got to you sometimes, and that all he could do was reassure you that they don’t mean anything.

On days when It feels like the whole world might cave in Stand side by side and you'll make it

yourinstagram

📍 Singapore

Liked by yourbestfriend and 496,275 others...

yourinstagram Race day in the Lion city!

PierreGasly Doing this one for you mon amour <3

-- yourinstagram Good luck darling <3

Load more comments...

You felt like the word was standing still, time had slowed, your breath catching in your throat.

No.

This couldn’t be happening. Pierre had lost control, the power steering had gone and his brakes had failed. There was nothing you could do except watch as his car hurtled along the track, spinning as it hit the barrier, being flown up and into the air when it hit the curb at the wrong angle; finally coming to a stop in the tire barrier.

Where was he?

The car was a smoking wreck, why wasn’t he out by now? You could hear the faint sounds of his race engineer trying to contact him but everyone in the garage knew that would be a lost cause. Then, suddenly, almost as quickly as it had all started, there were flames. Bright, hot, burning flames exploding from the rear of the car. Your hand clutched over your mouth as you had tried to look away, Pierre’s trainer spotted you and tried to lead you away into his drivers room, but you just couldn't take your eyes off of the screen.

Why wasn’t he out?

The red flags flew the moment He had hit the barrier so half the crew were supposed to be more concerned with Esteban’s car but nobody was. They were all fixed in place, unable to move as their eyes were glued to the screens. Marshalls sprinted towards the burning wreck, fire extinguishers in hand as they started to spray down the car. You saw him. Or at least you thought they did. A hand. There it was again. Waving. One of the marshalls ran forwards, spraying the area around him. You could just about make out Pierre trying desperately to pull himself out of the cockpit. Eventually the marshalls had thrown their fire extinguishers down and went in, both of them physically pulling Pierre out.

The screens cut away.

You let Ben take you out of the garage towards a quieter area where you could try and compose yourself. “Charles is outside asking for you,” One of the media personnel said after knocking on the door. You wiped the tears from your eyes and headed out. As soon as he saw you, He quickly wrapped his arms around you and you broke down again.

She's the best thing that you'll ever have She'll love you, if you love her like that

It had been three weeks of the same. Arriving at the hospital at 9am, just as visiting time started, leaving at 9pm, just as visiting time ended. And despite how much you hated it, you refused to be anywhere else. He had remained unconscious for the first couple of days, those had been the hardest. Not knowing if he was going to wake up, His crash had been measured at 132G, nobody expected him to. But he did.

“Y-,” He muttered, softly moving his head. “Y-,” He said again, this time catching your attention. You rushed to his side, taking his hand in yours.

“I’m right here Pierre, I’ve got you,” You say, tears rolling down your face as he faintly squeezed your hand. As you held his hand you called for the doctor, having been asked to if he woke up. They assessed him as you sat there, Pierre was very reactive to any movement you made; squeezing your hand as you shifted positions, begging you not to leave his side.

She'll love you If you love her like that

After three long weeks in a Singaporean hospital it was finally agreed that Pierre could be moved to a hospital in Paris, much closer to all of his family; you had spent another three weeks in there as Pierre underwent different operations on his legs. They had become trapped between different parts of carbon fibre and metal during the crash; the base of his spine also having been damaged. That was why He couldn’t get out.

The Hospital in Paris knew Pierre was itching to get out, that was evident to anyone that came to visit him. They released him pretty quickly and after six weeks in hospitals Pierre was finally free to go. Though he was nowhere near full health. He was in a wheelchair, unable to walk by himself. So one of the conditions of him being discharged was that you would find a place together in Paris, close to the hospital so He could attend all of his check-ups and rehab appointments.

By the second week Pierre was ready to give up. “Why are you still here?” He asked you one morning as you helped him get dressed. You knew he hated this, not being able to do things for himself.

“Because I love you,” You assured him as you handed him a shirt. Any ounce of independence he could have, you made sure to give him.

“There are many better men for you cherie, none of them need help getting dressed in the mornings. You don’t deserve this,” He said, and this wasn’t the first time He had shared this sentiment with you.

“But none of them are you, my love,” You reminded him. “I wouldn’t be doing this for anyone other than you,” You add as you put his feet through the legs of his trousers.

“T-thank you,” He says, voice faltering as you pull his trousers up his legs and over his ass.

“I’ve got you and I’ll always have you, I promise,” You say, pressing a kiss to his lips as you grab his wheelchair. Thankfully, that was the one thing He had gotten used to quickly, transferring himself in and out of the wheelchair, as that was probably the only thing you couldn’t have done.

She'll love you If you love her

He hated it, and you weren’t surprised. At the moment his sessions were only an hour long as He got tired and frustrated very quickly. You totally understood everything that was going on inside his mind. He had gone from being one of the fastest men alive to barely being able to take two steps without assistance.

Pierre had always said that He wanted you with him every step of the way, and when you promised that you would be, you really meant it. If that meant sitting in a chair on the far end of the room, so be it. He didn’t want you to help him, encourage him or anything. He hated showing you how weak he was. But you both knew He needed you there.

There were two long beams that he rested his arms onto as He tried to put one foot in front of the other. His physical therapist and rehab assistant had both assured Pierre that he had come on leaps and bounds since He first came through the door. Back then he was unable to stand up without help, but now he could get out of the wheelchair and lift himself up to hold the bars

She'll love you If you love her

You were sitting in the kitchen of your parisian apartment, working on your laptop as Pierre took a nap after his PT appointment. They always took everything out of him so the first thing He wanted to do was go to sleep. The apartment had been quiet for a few hours until you heard a crash from the bedroom. You instantly bolted from your seat and ran towards the sound; you found Pierre on the floor in the bathroom.

“-merde,” He swore as He tried to get back up. You went to help him but He pushed you away. “I don’t need your help,” He said through gritted teeth as he tried to stand back up.

“Just slow down and take a breath,” You said, repeating the words his physio had been telling him for months. He was always trying to do things at 100mph when he wasn’t capable. “Let me help you,” You say softly as you crouch down to him.

“I am so fucking fed up of slowing down,” He says and you nod, he had also been saying that for months.

“I know you are darling, but you’ll only hurt yourself more if you don’t,” You tell him as you offer your arm to him so he can stand back up. You knew why he had fallen, there was a slight lip on the doorframe to the bathroom that you had stubbed your toe on a few times, neither of you had noticed it when viewing the apartment and Pierre now had the tendency to drag his feet a little so it was bound to happen at some point.

She'll love you If you love her

Pierregasly

Liked by yourinstagram and 3,891,173 others...

PierreGasly The last 12 months have been tough. From being bed-bound to being able to take a few steps was a huge challenge; but we keep pushing forwards 👊

Comments have been restricted on this post.

The rest of the evening had been quiet, you cooked dinner for the both of you, Pierre silently taking his and eating in the study. That had been his one fault. He hated making mistakes; so tripping and falling like he did was a massive blow to his ego and dignity. He was already fast asleep by the time you went to bed, facing away from you so you just left him to it.

When you woke up you realised he wasn’t there, feeling his side of the bed you found a small yellow post-it note.

‘Don’t move, i want to surprise you and make up for yesterday

-P x

You did exactly what the note said and stayed in bed, picking up your phone and answering some messages you had gotten; about 15 minutes later the bedroom door opened, Pierre came in holding a plate and a mug. He carefully placed the mug down on the bedside table before passing you the plate that had fresh berries and pancakes on. “You didn’t have to,” You say, taking a bite and you instantly recognise that this was his own pancake recipe he used to make for you all the time.

“Yes I did,” He says, pinching a blueberry off of the side of the plate. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you, you were only trying to help,” He says with a regretful look on his face.

“You’re still entitled to your feelings Pierre,” You remind him and He nods.

“I know I am, but that shouldn’t be at your expense, I’m sorry,” He says and you pull him into a soft kiss.

On days when It feels like the whole world might cave in Stand side by side and you'll make it

The video starts to play, Pierre stands up from a chair across the room, walking towards the camera slowly, still slightly wobbly on his feet. “Hi Everybody, Pierre here. I know I’ve been very quiet on social media over the past eighteen months or so since the crash and that’s because I've really been focused on my recovery and the long process of learning to walk again. I wanted to tell you all what happened and that primarily, I’m ok. During the accident both my legs became trapped and I also shattered two of my lower vertebrae; that left me, for the first six months, totally paralysed from the waist down. I cannot even begin to express my gratitude to my physio team who have done everything they can to get me into the position I'm in today,” He says before there is a short montage of photos showing Pierre in hospital, then in the first few stages of physiotherapy of him learning how to stand up by himself.

“I know that my journey is far from over, I’ve still got pins in my legs from where they were crushed, and only after they have been removed should I begin the road to full mobility. Whilst I've been recovering Formula One has been incredible in assisting with finding me the correct doctors to suit my injuries and keeping the door open to future plans. Y/N’s been quietly active on social media and has told me of quite a few tweets and comments about my possible return to racing and I want to clear things up. I hold absolutely nothing against Alpine, Formula One or the FIA about my accident, as it was exactly that. An accident, there was an investigation and there was nothing anybody could have done. However this does not mean I am ready or willing to return to racing; I have no plans to return to racing in the future, I feel I need to be investing more into my personal life, thanking those who have stood by me over the past two years. Y/N and I got engaged during that time so we are in the middle of wedding preparations and we could not be happier.” He continues before it cuts to more photos of the final stages of his PT and then the video of him proposing, He was still on crutches at the time and was unable to kneel but the sentiment was still there. “-And finally I want to thank all of you guys, my fans, all of your kind comments and messages are read and they really help me to get through those tough days. I probably won’t be very active on social media going forward so for now; thank you, and goodbye,” He says with a wide smile.

She's the best thing that you'll ever have She'll love you, if you love her like that

yourinstagram and PierreGasly

Liked by LandoNorris and 620,682 others...

yourinstagram Mr and Mrs Gasly - 23/8/2026

PierreGasly Cant forget about Pedro! 🐶

-- yourinstagram Never!

a few years later...

“Pierre,” The interviewer started. “We are now 5 years on from your near-fatal accident, how are you doing?” She asks. The studio hadn’t changed since the last time he was filming here during his career in F1.

“I’m doing really well; I’m back to pretty much full mobility, a little stiff here and there but my wife says that's just because i’m getting old,” He says with a laugh, you roll your eyes from behind the camera.

“We all saw the photos that she posted a few weeks ago, updating your fans on your life at the moment. Tell me about that, you always hear the horror stories of partners leaving because they couldn’t cope. How much does it mean to you that She stayed?” She asked as you were slightly taken aback…that wasn’t one of the prepared questions.

“It means everything to me…there were times during my recovery where I would tell her to go, to leave me and that she didn’t deserve this. But she stayed, and I don’t think leaving was ever an option in her mind. I owe her everything and I will spend the rest of my life trying to show her how thankful I am.” Pierre answers honestly, not looking at the interviewer, but looking behind her at you as He spoke.

“I love you,” You mouth back, aware you weren’t allowed to talk out loud but he heard you, loud and clear.

“I mean you guys were the ‘it’ couple in the paddock before the accident…now i think the entire paddock is jealous of the love the both of you share, it really is beautiful to watch you two,” She tells you both.

“Have we got an extra chair?” He asks, looking over at the producers. One of the crew quickly moves a spare chair next to Pierre who stands up, holding out his hand to you. “Come join us…this is just as much your story as it is mine Cherie, I wouldn’t be here without you,” He reminds you as you cross the set to him. He presses a kiss to your forehead before you both take your seats.

finite

#f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #charles leclerc #formula one x reader #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #pierre gasly oneshot #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly fluff

338 notes · View notes

heliads · 1 year

Text

You Agreed to This

Pierre Gasly has a reputation for flirting with anything that breathes. You have a reputation for being scarily focused on racing. When Charles, Lando, and Esteban get it into their heads to dare Pierre to get you to fall in love with him, the results can only be tragic.

a/n: i was frustrated when i couldn't find fics with this vague plotline like two months ago and then i remembered that i can simply make them myself. anyway this is my longest fic to date (6k+ words), enjoy!

masterlist

The whole affair started in the recesses of the Alpine motorhome, too far from prying eyes and chances to stop before it got bad. Miami is boiling hot as per usual, it gets to Pierre just like it always does. He’s trying to fend off the heat by hiding somewhere deep within his team’s complex, team jacket stripped off somewhere on a nearby sofa and fans cranked on high.

It was just Pierre at the beginning, but drivers tend to flock together in times of heat related stress, and now there are four of them sprawled across floors and furniture in an attempt to alleviate their suffering. Charles found Pierre first, just like he usually does, then Lando followed after media duties were over, and Esteban was last, claiming that if this many rival drivers were there he had a right to die in his own motorhome too, god damn it.

Pierre has mixed thoughts on that. He has mixed thoughts on quite a lot, actually– the blistering temperatures are getting to him, swirling memories into fact into fiction. He’ll get his head in order when it comes time to race, but that won’t happen until tomorrow, once qualis are in order and they’ve all been shunted around for the grid lineup.

Across the room, Lando groans from the shadows of a functionally decorated armchair. “This is miserable.”

Pierre gives him a look. “Your complaining is miserable.”

Undeterred, Lando keeps up his protests. “We should do something fun. Pierre, don’t you know like a thousand people here? Invite someone over.”

Pierre snorts. “I don’t know all of Miami, Lando. Go to sleep or something.”

Esteban chuckles. “Could have fooled me. Didn’t you tag, like, a hundred people in your latest Instagram story?”

Pierre turns his head to glare at his teammate. They’re still supposed to be friends as of three or so months of being racing partners, but apparently that association doesn’t go so far as requiring Esteban to defend him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Charles shakes his head, grinning. “It’s the truth, let him speak. You have connections.”

Lando flings a dramatic arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight pouring in through the windows. They’ve all been shut with the blinds pulled down, of course, but some warmth has a way of coming in regardless of what anyone wants. “Pierre’s just sociable like that. He could win over anybody. Or flirt with anybody.”

Pierre rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Norris.”

Charles arches a brow. “What would he be jealous of, your losing streak? I saw you strike out trying to talk up Margot Robbie last time we were in Monaco, don’t lie to me.”

“That was different,” Pierre protests, “she’se literally married, what did you expect?”

Charles coughs pointedly. “Yet you flirted with her anyway. Anyways, don’t argue. You can’t flirt with everybody. Not successfully, at least.”

Pierre leans forward cautiously. “What does that mean?”

Charles laughs. “There’s one person you could never charm in a thousand years.”

Pierre sighs, answers Charles’ unspoken question in time with his friend. “Y/N L/N?”

“Y/N L/N,” Charles confirms, and the other three drivers break into identical grins.

Pierre can accept defeat on that front. Y/N L/N is the only female driver on the grid at the moment, and anyone can tell why she made it despite the odds mere moments after meeting her. She’s crazy intense, more dedicated to racing than even Max or Lewis. Pierre wouldn’t be surprised if she could win a driver’s championship in the next year or two. Talk to her once and you’ll be stunned that she hasn’t done it yet.

Every time Pierre, or any other driver or spectator for that matter, has tried to chat her up, they always end up shut down faster than you can spin out on a slick track with the wrong tires. She doesn’t have time for any of them. The girl lives and breathes and dies for racing, she’s not going to let something like a boy get in her way.

This only makes Pierre more tempted to keep up with her, of course, but he learned a long time ago that was a lost cause. The only reason Y/N would ever look twice at him is if he was a place ahead of her during a race, and given her knack for overtakes, that doesn’t happen all that often.

Lando sits forward, and Pierre decides that he doesn’t like the gleam in the younger boy’s eyes. “Say, I’ve got a great idea to stave off boredom. Pierre, go date Y/N.”

Pierre almost chokes. “Are you insane? Just like that, go date her? How would that help you in any way?”

Lando spreads his hands. “If it would be so easy for you to flirt with anybody, how about you prove it? Surely Y/N isn’t so far out of your league. You’re both in the same line of work, at least you’ve got that going for you.”

Pierre opens his mouth to fight this. He may have a bit of a cocky streak, sure, but he’s a driver, who amongst them doesn’t? Just as he starts to get himself out of this, though, Esteban speaks up instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pierre couldn’t even come close. None of us can.” Esteban says it like a fact, and that’s all it takes for Pierre to change his tune.

“You know what?” He says, feeling his adrenaline start to kick in, “Sure I can.”

Charles’ eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious about girls,” Pierre says, causing a ripple of groans to cascade around the room, “This time I am, at least. I’ll win her over, no problem.”

Lando sits up. “If you’re really doing this, we’ve got to set some rules.”

“Such as?” Pierre dares him to continue.

Charles taps a thoughtful hand on his leg. “It has to be more than a one time thing. Just a single conversation could be a fluke or her feeling bad for you.”

Outraged, Pierre starts to fight that, but Lando picks up the thread of the conversation before he can cut it short. “That makes sense. We have to be sure that she’s actually in love with you. Like, get her to kiss you or something? And pics or it didn’t happen. We need proof.”

Pierre snickers, trying not to feel like control is slipping out of his hands with each passing second. “Anything else? Want me to name our firstborn child after you?”

That makes Esteban crack up. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? We’ll settle for being named godfather. All three of us collectively.”

Pierre shakes his head incredulously. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Charles slaps him on the back. “You have to believe in yourself, Pierre. If you don’t, she’ll never fall for it.”

And so Pierre Gasly gets himself stuck in the con of a lifetime. Is it going to work? The odds are abysmal. Will he make it, though? Well, Pierre never likes to back down from a challenge. He’s not going to let this one get away from him so easily.

The sun is bright and the morning is tense in the paddock. You arrived early, earlier than most of the drivers, all so you could get a taste of what the track was like without anyone breathing down your neck. Some would call you a little too eager, others would say you’re plain stressed out and nothing more to it.

You’d give yourself a little more credit than that, though. You know exactly who you are and what you have to prove. The more time you give yourself to plan and acclimate, the less time there is for mistakes.

That isn’t to say that you ignore all the comments on your pre-race habits. You are well aware of your reputation, even proud of it. You wear it as a second skin, a racing suit, a livery specially designed to flaunt your own achievement. The whispers of those out and about in the world of motorsport follow you wherever you go, dogging your footsteps until you half expect to leave streams of words behind you instead of burned rubber.

That’s Y/N L/N. The one who only cares about the track? The one who lives and dies for racing? That’s the one. That’s the one.

There’s not much else to it. So what if you tend to be a little more intense than most? Being serious is the only method of survival available to you. You can be sweet and fun, play yourself off as the ditzy girl who only got in so her team could capitalize on brand deals, or you can be a woman without a feminine bone in her body, so far from girlish she chokes whenever she sees the color pink. Both are awful alternatives, so you choose the only one you can: ignore every box they try to push you in until everyone else gives up. Let them whisper. At least they aren’t trying to change you anymore.

That’s how you’ve navigated the paddock up until now, the entirety of racing life as you know it. It’s worked out in your favor, or so you’d say, at least. You push yourself on and off track. You answer the unfair questions they throw at you. You solve the mysteries of why someone is taking an involvement in your affairs and come out on top of any possible rumors.

There are mysteries, though, and then there’s the latest one, which is why on Earth Pierre Gasly has taken to following you around the paddock. They all did, at the start; the drivers, the fans, the interviewers, even the team bosses, all staring at you like you were in a circus exhibition. A girl in motorsport? Couldn’t be. Yet it is.

That’s mostly drifted off, though, the attention gone once they realized you weren’t interested in belonging to any of them. Most of them did it unintentionally, of course, and the few who got too close on purpose quickly learned they would get nothing from you. Pierre learned that himself, or so you thought. That doesn’t stop his attention from surging up again all of a sudden.

It’s been a solid few weeks of this behavior, and you’re still no closer to understanding it than you were at the start. If you were to put an initial date on this whole affair, you’d maybe say everything began back in Miami. All of a sudden, Pierre, who up until now had accepted that you weren’t interested in him even if he didn’t like that all too much, had decided to renew his affections once more.

Where you had been content to walk briskly through the paddock by yourself, Pierre is suddenly a few feet behind you, always ready to offer a bottle of water when you need it or issue a joking comment when you seem in need of a laugh. He’s playing his cards carefully, always disappearing the moment you start to take his presence for granted, but why, you cannot tell. Everyone here has a motive. Surely Pierre Gasly has one as well.

You weren’t willing to trust him at first, ignoring him throughout the Miami race and all sessions at Imola. The only angle worth your while is your own, and maybe your constructor’s, too. Still, he stayed. That has to count for something.

And, when the end of a race finds you absolutely desolate after an engine failure, that starts to count a little more than it would have before. This race is early enough in the year that the DNF doesn’t have to sting too much, but all you can think about is how you just gave Max, Charles, and the rest of the title competitors the leg up they need to beat you out.

It’s not a good feeling, to say the least. You find some empty corner of the paddock where you can be alone and let your emptiness consume you. That was your plan, at least, but you’ve only been able to wallow in your own misery for about ten minutes or so before someone else joins you. The only other driver to fail to complete the necessary laps: Pierre.

Pierre may not have had engine problems like you, but that doesn’t make him any luckier. George Russell spun wide on a turn and took out Pierre before righting himself again. George got off relatively easy for a crash, only needed to swap out some tires and his front wing, but Pierre took the brunt of it and ended up in the barriers. You heard him swearing, frustrated, on the radio after the race; the commentators loved that one, even if he didn’t.

That leaves both of you in the same undesirable position. Pierre arches a brow as he takes in the sight of you: legs pulled up to your chest where you sit slumped against the wall, expression hopeless and all ambition gone for the moment.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, “I’m trying to hide from Sky Sports.”

You gesture vaguely at the open floor next to you. “Feel free. I'm not too thrilled about hearing from them, either.”

Pierre collapses in an untidy heap of limbs by your side, pulling at the collar of his race suit so he can unzip it down to his waist, leaving only the long sleeved shirt clinging to his skin. “At least engine failure is something you can’t control. Everyone’s been all over me trying to get me to admit that I should have seen George coming.”

You wrinkle your brow. “That wasn’t your fault. He braked late, it was obvious.”

Pierre glances over at you, clearly fighting a laugh. “Obvious, huh?”

You look away, wondering why you feel embarrassed all of a sudden. You don’t lie when it comes to racing, why bother? Thanks to the vast supplies of driver cameras and radio clips, there’s no point in glossing over what everyone knows to be true. Still, Pierre has a way of making that feel like something you should think twice about, like maybe not all of your attitudes towards drivers and their habits are things you should speak freely on. Maybe some things can be kept just to yourself. Maybe some drivers are beginning to verge beyond mere functionality as competitors.

“Everyone saw it,” you justify, “bad timing, that’s all. Not something you could control no matter how much space you gave him.”

Pierre nods solemnly. “The engine wasn’t your fault either, by the way. There was nothing you could have done to make it work again. You can’t limp through a problem like that.”

You tilt your head back, staring up at the ceiling above you. “I tried, though.”

“I know,” Pierre says. They’re only two words, but for some reason they make you feel better than any of the minutes spent listening to your engineers’ speeches on how they would fix that issue by the next race.

Judging by the slight smile on Pierre’s face, he must know that too. When the seconds stretch into minutes and you never tell Pierre to go, that smile only deepens. The conversation leaves the race eventually, and you end up talking about silly things like movies you’d like to see or places you want to go but never have. You don’t know that you’ve ever spoken to another driver like this before. You don’t know that you could with anyone else.

You have to leave that corner eventually, called away by a team principal with apologies in order. Pierre departs around the same time, claiming that he can’t run from the interviewers forever. You steal one last glance at him over your shoulder as you go, and can’t help but notice the grin on his face. It’s broader than before, proud of something; what, you can’t tell. Despite the fact that both of you have failed out of the race, you still get the feeling that Pierre has won at something more than you today.

Charles releases an Instagram post later that day of him, Pierre, and a few other drivers out at a club. You see it, and spend too much time wondering how long you have to wait after a photo is posted to like it so it’s not weird. What you don’t see is the conversation that happened later, how Pierre triumphantly told the rest that he was closer than they’d ever believe. You don’t see it, and the next time you see him, you stop to talk with a ready smile.

So it goes the next race, and the next one, and the next. Pierre is there. So are you. You end up finding him eventually; as time goes on, it’s not just Pierre seeking you out but the other way around, too. It’s even, both of you wanting each other just as often as the other. Eventually, you have to admit defeat to the voice in the back of your head telling you that you might have misread Pierre after all. Maybe he’s not just a horrific flirt. Maybe he can be a friend.

And, leaning over the railing of Pierre’s room in the Alpine motorhome so you can feel the gentle wind on your face while you stare out at the paddock, you think you would be alright if there was something more, too. You swore to yourself you’d never even think about another driver in that way, too scared of all your efforts to distinguish yourself from everyone’s expectations for female drivers being for naught, but it might be okay if it was Pierre. Pierre is different, nothing like the rest. It would be alright if it was him.

Pierre stands by your side, back straight and posture perfect as he surveys the mess of people milling about some floors below. “Nervous for the race?”

You tilt your head to the side, considering the question. “As much as anyone, I guess. I like this track, though. Should be good.”

Pierre nods, smiling at that. “And what about me? Am I going to be good, too?”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”

He doesn’t; this is one of Pierre’s best tracks. He should be up for a podium or at least high in the points if everything goes according to plan.

He just grins. “Indulge me.”

You give him a pointed stare, then head back into the room. “You’re an ass.”

Pierre follows. “You love me, though.”

A pause. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He asks, unable to disguise a slight shine of surprise from entering his eyes, like despite all the luck he’d had recently, Pierre still didn’t think he would get this far.

You lift your shoulder in a half-shrug, unwilling to commit to anything further. You feel as if you’re standing on a lake frozen over, aware that any wrong move could shatter the ice beneath your feet.

Pierre moves towards the door, and for one horrified moment you think he’s actually going to leave right then and there before you realize he’s closing it instead. He turns back once he’s sure no passersby can see you, and then he’s kissing you and you can’t worry about anything else. Not even the race. Not even the threat that this might send you spiraling until you’re so lost on him that you won’t be able to think straight for the rest of your life.

He leans back at last, smiling at you with the same smile you think you saw on a podium on Monza when he first won a race in F1. “We could have done that earlier,” he whispers, not daring to disturb the quiet victory of the room.

“We could have,” you answer him. Every driver hates losing time. This is no exception.

Your head is light with the most wonderful feeling, and then over Pierre’s shoulder you see something strange. He left the door open. Cracked halfway, even though this door is notorious for never staying open right. He would have had to try to keep it like this. He would have wanted it to be that way for a reason.

Pierre’s phone vibrates and he grimaces, murmuring something about having to talk to one of his engineers before slipping out of the room. He kisses you one last time before he leaves, a quiet touch pressed to your cheek. He takes great care to ensure that you do not see the message blinking up from his screen, and when he goes, you notice that he does not have to turn the knob, only pull open an already ajar door.

Something is wrong. The longer you stand there, alone in Pierre’s room, the more you start to think, and what you think about is not good at all. The timing of the text message. The look on his face when he left. Nothing is adding up.

Voices drift to you down the hall as you stand there wondering, Pierre’s among them. You walk slowly forward, unable to fight a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach like something is about to go very, very poorly. You usually trust your instincts. As it turns out, they won’t be wrong now.

Pierre is standing in a meeting room down the hall, talking in hushed voices to a few other drivers. As you draw closer, you recognize them. Charles, closest; Lando, eyes wide; Esteban, even, staring in disbelief. All three are telling Pierre replications of the same sentiment, which is that they cannot believe he actually managed to do it.

Get you to fall in love with him, they mean. Fulfill the dare, they explain. Like they all agreed a few months ago. Back in Miami, the three of them dared Pierre to get you to fall for him, and like the overconfident, thrill seeking diehard flirt that he is, Pierre agreed.

Worse: he did it successfully. You know, you had been wondering if this was too good to be true. Looks like it was. All that time you were letting Pierre into your heart, and he was manipulating you into falling in love. How pathetic. How incredibly soul-destroying.

The four drivers look up when you shut the door to the meeting room behind you. Pierre is the first one to notice it’s you, and you don’t ever think you’ll forget the look on his face when he realizes that you know the truth. His entire expression contorts with horror and his hands rise by his sides, trying to force your heart to stay unbroken. Pity it’s too late for that.

“Y/N–” he begins, a little too loud, a little too desperate, “wait– it’s not what it sounds like–”

“Actually,” you say coolly, “I believe that it is. You three dared Pierre to get me to fall in love with him? That’s exactly what it is, right?”

It’s not a question. Charles, Lando, and Esteban have realized you’re here, too, and they wear similar shades of Pierre’s alarm. Charles opens his mouth to say something, perhaps to explain himself, but you cut him off.

“Don’t even try. I know what you did, I don’t want to hear your terrible reasoning for why you thought this was okay. I’m going to go back to my motorhome and we are never going to speak of this again. Don’t talk to me in the paddock. Don’t talk to me at all unless we’re in a media event and you have to. I never want to speak to any of you.”

Lando interrupts, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Y/N, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? It was just a prank, that’s all. Just a laugh.”

Pierre looks like he’s fighting back deep irritation at that. You just arch one brow. “Just a prank to humiliate me? You disgust me. All of you.”

You let that silence their arguments and leave the room. You think Pierre might have tried to follow you out, but Charles blocks him. You hear the Monegasque’s voice spilling out into the hall as you leave, telling Pierre not to try it. She obviously doesn’t want to see any of us anymore, mate. Best to leave it be.

You wish it was that easy for you. It takes everything in you to make it to your private room in your team’s motorhome and lock the door behind you before the tears finally come flooding out. You’d like nothing more than to fly home and spend the next several days and nights comatose in your bed, but, as if things weren’t bad as is, there’s still a race tomorrow, so you won’t be able to go anywhere for at least twenty-four hours.

The lights go out, the chequered flag waves some time later. You’re not entirely aware of what happened in that race, nor of how you were able to drag yourself out of your room and back to the starting grid, but you blink once and you’re on the podium, so evidently everything worked out. You watch the clips later, the commentators are all in shock. They haven’t seen you race so aggressively in years. It bordered on cruelty.

Pierre, by contrast, had his worst race in months. It seemed like he was hardly in charge at all, more like the car was controlling him. He wasn’t even in the points. No one can understand it. You refuse to think about it any longer.

Another race weekend comes and goes. The interviewers are confused– wasn’t it just last week that you seemed so much happier than you are now? You’re surly in press conferences, answering questions in a clipped and emotionless tone. They’d say you were totally checked out were it not for the fact that you’re still getting good results.

They don’t know everything, of course, but some of the more eagle-eyed reporters are starting to put the pieces together. What’s up with you and Pierre Gasly? Someone asks one day, Weren’t you two good friends recently?

We’re drivers, you reply, Aren’t we all used to pretending things are better than they are?

When you see Pierre after that press conference, he looks dizzy, totally unsteady on his own feet. You don’t meet his eyes. You’re not sure that it’s guilt, but it feels something like that anyway. Everything is wrong.

Pierre is asked about it later, of course, and he’s a little more candid than you were. He never names names, just says that things happen sometimes, things he wishes he could take back. Pierre has to take a moment to get himself together after that to answer the next question, a fantastic display of emotion. How charming of him to wear his heart on his sleeve when he’s just ripped yours out of your chest.

The pattern repeats the next few weeks. Pierre, Charles, Lando, and Esteban try to talk to you on multiple occasions, but you brush them off with nothing more than a well-placed glare and some good avoidance tactics. Even then, you should have known that your cold shoulder couldn’t last forever.

Of course it would be Charles who gets you at last– if there’s anyone on this entire damned grid who could get why you are the way you are, it would be him. Il Predestinato knows what it’s like to have the entire world expecting something of you, and he doesn’t lie easy because of it. Charles finds you late as the sun is setting and won’t let you avoid him forever, even though you try.

At last, you give up and stop making him chase you around the paddock. You’re sitting at a table outside your motorhome, shaded by a sunbleached umbrella and sipping at a bottle of ice water long since turned lukewarm.

“He regrets it, you know,” Charles says by way of introduction.

You refuse to raise your eyes from your intense study of the bottle’s printed plastic label. “He’s going to have to do a lot better than sending his best friend to talk for him, then.”

Charles scoffs. “Oh, come on. You know you haven’t let him get close enough for that.”

Your water bottle receives a very irate glare. “Wonder why that would be.”

Charles sighs. “We were wrong, we all know that. It was a stupid thing to suggest and even more stupid to keep it up that long.”

You look at him at last, anger gone and replaced by mere disappointment. From the way Charles shifts in his seat opposite you, you think that might be an even worse threat for him to face. “Then why did you keep it going? If you knew it was so wrong? Pierre was committed to your prank for weeks. Why didn’t any of you call it quits?”

“He didn’t want to,” Charles admits, “not because of the dare, because he liked being around you. Did you know he was mad at us the day you caught us? He didn’t want us anywhere near that room. Told me privately it’s because he wanted the first kiss for himself, not for anything related to the dare.”

That makes you go silent. The fan whirs overhead, pushing your thoughts around in slow circles somewhere above you. “That makes no sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Charles grumbles, “Happened, though. Regardless of what he thought at the start, Pierre doesn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.”

You turn towards him. “Is that supposed to make how he felt at the start okay somehow?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, but it makes the ending better, I think.”

He’s right. You lean back against your seat, contemplative. Charles takes this as his cue to leave. He pauses once before he’s out of range, then calls something else back to you. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I told you that, by the way.”

You can’t fight a laugh. “I won’t tell a soul you’re on my side.”

He smiles at that. You’ve missed him, you realize, him and the rest. You thought distance would save you from feeling quite so badly about all of this, but it just cut you off from your best support. Charles disappears into the crowd, a bright flare of red in a multitude of shifting shades, and for the first time since that treacherous discovery, you start to wonder what it would feel like to forgive.

Pierre is in an awful state. So Esteban has told him about a thousand and one times, at least, each utterance delivered with the same derisive snort. Pierre knows he’s supposed to bounce back from this, pretend it was all just a prank, but he’s known better for months now. It might have been a prank the first day, even the first week, but not after that.

Here is the problem: Pierre, in all his cocky eagerness to show his friends up, failed to consider that Y/N might be able to charm him as well. He might have gone a little overboard in his attempts to make her fall in love with him, perhaps even to the point where he fell in love instead. He isn’t sure when he first realized he had feelings for her, but Pierre is more than certain it was before Y/N discovered she felt the same way.

What a ruin to his reputation. Pierre hadn’t minded, though, not when they were still on speaking terms. He liked the way they could talk for hours, how Y/N’s guard slipped when she started to trust him. She had a way of smiling when she was sure no one was about to stab her in the back. Pierre misses that. He’s sure he’ll never see it again.

Unable to stand Esteban’s dismissive attitude anymore, Pierre picks himself up from where he’d been wallowing in misery on the floor of the Alpine motorhome. He doesn’t know where he’s going yet, only that it needs to be somewhere without a single soul in sight. Still, when he passes aimlessly through the halls and almost runs into another driver, he supposes he should take it as a testament to his distracted mind that he doesn’t realize it’s Y/N until they’re already standing still and staring at each other.

Too late, Pierre remembers she hates him. His eyes drop to the floor and he mumbles an apology, ready to keep moving. She told him not to speak to her anymore; Pierre can hardly fault her for that, and he won’t use his presence as a weapon if that’s the one that will cut her the deepest.

He is surprised, then, when Y/N reaches out to stop him before he can get too much farther. Pierre looks at her hand locked around his, then back up at her.

“Wait,” she says, “I want to talk to you.”

“I thought that wasn’t happening anymore,” Pierre says. It occurs to him that it probably sounds cold, but she speaks before he can try to explain what he meant.

“Things have changed,” she says.

That’s enough to convince him to stay, if not for the feeling of her fingers still on his than anything else. He doesn’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting from him to the occasional Alpine aide walking down the halls, and to save her, Pierre jerks his head towards a door down the hall.

“There’s an empty room to the left, we can talk there.”

A brief flash of relief crosses her face, and Y/N lets Pierre lead her over to the room. He leaves the door open to give her an easy escape, but she closes it after her anyway. No onlookers. Maybe that’s for the best.

Y/N sits down in one of the chairs, legs crossed, arms folded. She may be here with him after so long, but that doesn’t stop her from throwing up all her walls, even the physical ones. It hurts to remember how easy it had been to be with her that last day. Pierre plays those moments on repeat in his head– the balcony, the breeze, the words, the kiss. He can never stop the later scene from following, how her demeanor had changed when she realized the truth. He didn’t think he could hurt one person that badly. He was wrong.

She’s still silent, so Pierre assumes it’s on him to start talking. “I’m sorry,” he begins, “I know that’s not enough, but it’s true. I was stupid. I should have told you before–”

Regret clogs up his throat and he can’t choke out a single syllable more. Y/N looks suspicious. “Before the kiss?”

“Before anything,” Pierre clarifies, “when we were talking at the beginning. I never should have let it get so far. Doesn’t mean I minded when it did,” he remarks half to himself, “but I should have done it on my own terms.”

When he dares look up at Y/N again, he swears she seems slightly more open, but that could just be his wishful thinking. “Do you mean what you said in the interview?” She asks suddenly, “Do you wish you could take it back?”

“Yes,” Pierre says in a rush, “I want a do over. I want to do it right. I would have done all of it without ever talking to Lando or Esteban or Charles first. I would have done it for me.” His voice is quiet. “I would have loved you without making it a lie.”

Y/N’s eyes are wide, but she isn’t afraid or angry. “Second chances come around more often than you’d think,” she whispers.

“Even for me?” Pierre asks.

She nods once. “Even for you.”

They’re both on the podium that day. His race engineers can’t explain why Pierre’s luck has suddenly had this tremendous turnaround. He can. She can, too. Sometimes your heart likes getting in the way if it knows you’re doing something wrong. It’s a good thing, then, that he’s finally doing something right.

She’s waiting for him once the interviews are over. They’re both exhausted, half drunk on the champagne in the air and wholly pleased with themselves. The sun goes down, and Pierre is happy. It is just as easy as that.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagines #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #f1 pierre #f1 pierre imagines #f1 pierre x reader #f1 pierre oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot

2K notes · View notes

norrussell · 1 month

Text

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.

313 notes · View notes

works-of-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Just a Lousy Racing Driver || Pierre Gasly x Reader

Summary: Pierre shows the reader just how little he cares about her mother’s opinions of him.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ unprotected sex, swearing, some badly translated French.

a/n: I have been writing this for weeks on and off because I’ve been strangely busy! Pierre is sort of an entitled rich boy in this, but we can forgive him. I’m not the best at writing smut but I hope you enjoy this regardless.

“My Mum hates you.”

“Good.” Pierre smirked, his hand wandering from your waist to your neck. Your back arched against the wall as you revelled beneath his touch, feeling his warm fingers lightly grip at your skin. He could feel your quickening pulse under his thumb which only encouraged him further. “What else did she say?”

His grip tightened on your neck as his spare hand pushed your hip harder against the wall. You gasped, his fingertips skimming your ear. “What did she say?” He repeated, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Your eyes fluttered closed momentarily as you struggled to gather your thoughts.

“That you’re a lousy racing driver – “

“And?” He leaned into you, pressing a lingering kiss to the skin just below your jaw.

“You don’t deserve the money you make.”

His laughter vibrated against you, making you squirm and clutch tighter onto his shirt. His mouth latched back onto your neck, kissing and sucking to leave a flurry of little red marks.

“The money I use to take care of her daughter?”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he pushed his knee between yours to separate your legs. You resisted the urge to jump up and wrap them around him, as you chose to savour every second he spent pressed against you, his hands and mouth exploring your body.

If any other man said that to you, you’d probably push him away and give him an earful for being obnoxious, but the terms were different with Pierre. Since your very first date, he’d completely spoiled you, showering you with gifts and surprising you with romantic gestures. He always made sure you had exactly what you wanted, as well as needed, and never let his girl miss out on anything. You weren’t exactly materialistic, but he insisted on pampering you and treating you to anything you desired, so how could you refuse?

Pierre’s pursuit of you wasn’t an easy one. He tried for months to get you to agree to a date, but you were stubborn to say the least. You’d heard of his reputation, and you had to be sure you’d be more than just another escapade before you finally said yes. He tried to charm you with the idea of lavish dates and expensive vacations, but you assured him you couldn’t be bought. You played hard to get which drove him crazy and only made him want you ten times more.

The truth is, Pierre was trouble; trouble you weren’t sure you could handle at first. You had the type of friends and family who’d always guessed your type from a mile away, but Pierre didn’t fit into the norm. He was a cheeky, charismatic F1 driver whose face was all over the media every other weekend. He was the kind of guy who only taught you the bad words in his language, so he could whisper them in your ear before each race and leave your mind reeling for Lord knows how many laps. As your mother had put it, he was bad news.

Pierre’s jeans rubbed against your thigh, the friction burning your skin and making your knees feel as if they could cave in. He released his grip on your neck, only to bury that hand in your hair and tug at the roots. “I suppose, for the sake of your reputation with your family, we shouldn’t be together.” He purred against your cheek, his stubble scratching you and hot breath fanning your ear.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t.” You spoke, finding the confidence to bring your hand up to his hair, pulling his head back so he’d face you. “But, how could you possibly risk losing me?” You leaned forward, ghosting your lips over his. He tried to steal a kiss but you moved back too fast, smiling at him.

“You are such a fucking tease.” Pierre groaned, enjoying the feeling of your fingernails against his scalp. He’d grown accustomed to having your hands in his hair, whether it was during cosy nights on the couch in front of the fire, or humid nights in hotels around the world with his face buried between your thighs. You certainly couldn’t deny your love of the latter.

Pierre overpowered you once again, grabbing the hand from his hair and pinning it above your head. He held it there with his left hand, gripping your wrist and pressing it against the wall. You wriggled beneath him, mostly on purpose to see how he’d react. You liked it when he was rough with you, restraining you and touching you wherever he pleased. Every piece of you belonged to him and you loved being able to satisfy his every need. He responded just how you liked, gripping harder and pushing himself as close to you as possible. You smiled, earning a knowing look from the Frenchman. “What do you want?” He asked, his free hand cupping your cheek softly, a stark contrast to his fingertips digging into your wrist above your head.

“J'ai envie de toi.” I want you. You whispered as he lifted your chin with his thumb, his gaze meeting yours.

“Hm? You have to speak louder, mon amour.”

Pierre liked to tease and make you beg, and you both loved and hated him for it. All you wanted was to throw yourself forward and kiss him, but his firm grip kept you from moving. Even so much as a twitch made him hold on tighter and raise a brow at you as if to question why you were challenging him. He was often in control, but was always focused on your pleasure before his own. The two of you had once spent an entire morning in bed, Pierre giving you a string of orgasms with his mouth and fingers until you physically couldn’t take it anymore. He’d carried you to the bathtub and washed you afterwards, your body feeling limp and admittedly rather sore. He took care of you like you were the most fragile thing on this Earth, and held you as you drifted back to sleep in his arms, still wrapped in your towel.

“J'ai vraiment envie de toi.” I want you so bad. You spoke up, Pierre’s lips hovering over yours. A smirk spread across his face, as he reached down with both hands to grab your hips.

“That’s better.” He turned you around, pressing you against the wall. Your cheek was cold against the wallpaper, but you barely noticed as Pierre’s hands hiked up your dress, leaving it bunched around your waist. “Shall I take my time with you? Or are you ready for me now?” He slipped his right hand between your thighs, two fingers immediately finding your clit through your underwear. Your body jolted forward and you tried to support yourself with your hands on the wall. Pierre let out a chuckle behind you, his left hand smoothing out your hair. “Do you want me, baby?”

“How many times are you going to make me say it?” You whined, desperate for him to touch you more and not just through your clothes. For a moment he considered teasing you a little longer, but he himself could not deal with the anticipation. Soon his jeans were around his ankles, and he palmed at his hard, aching cock through his boxers, his other hand clumsily tugging at your underwear. You reached down to help, but he grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand away.

“Leave them on.” He demanded, looking down at the thin baby blue lace he’d grown to love. You couldn’t remember exactly why they had become his favourites, but you took immense pleasure in wearing them beneath skirts and giving him a sneak peek in places you shouldn’t. You knew exactly how tonight was going to end when you crossed your legs with exaggeration at dinner, parting them just enough so he could catch a glimpse of the blue he loved so much. Pierre had to resist every urge to clear the table right there and bend you over it. He’d enjoyed the mental image of your body pressed against the wooden tabletop, your hair splayed out and sticking to your cheeks as he pounded into you, making the table legs shake as well as yours. He only wished the hotel room had a table just like it so he could act out his fantasy.

Pierre leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your upper arm. “Leave them on whilst I fuck you.” He whispered, pushing them to the side so he could get a better look at you. Your skin was flushed and slick with arousal, the sight making his cock twitch impatiently. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He said in awe, his middle finger teasing your wet cunt. His touch was needy, but still gentle. Your moans bounced off of the wall, echoing around the room and bringing music to Pierre’s ears. He loved the sound of you, whimpering and moaning for him to touch you, to claim you, to fuck you so hard you saw stars.

Pushing his underwear down, you felt his cock spring free and press against your ass. You whimpered, grinding your hips backwards to get more friction and to give your boyfriend a bit of a show. He looked down, his breath caught in his throat as he watched your hips draw circles against him. He loved that you weren’t shy, and you enjoyed this just as much as he did.

“This is what you want, hm?” He asked, wrapping his hand around his cock and pressing against you harder. You nodded, arching your back forward to encourage him.

“Don’t make me wait any longer.” You purred, reaching behind and ghosting your fingers over his shaft. Pierre’s eyes fluttered closed, the soft touch sending a cold rush throughout his entire body. He did as you asked, grabbing both your hands and pushing them firmly against the wall so he could get you into the perfect position. An excitable giggle escaped you, and he smiled as he dug his fingers into your hips and teased your eager pussy with the head of his cock.

He couldn’t wait a moment longer as he slowly pushed himself inside of you, his size stretching you out and filling you up. Your hands slipped down the wall, but he was quick to reach forward and grab you. Pierre linked his fingers with yours, carefully thrusting into you as you got used to the feeling. You closed your eyes and hummed in pleasure, the two of you making the same sound in unison. “You feel incredible.” He whispered, kissing your hair. You loved the mixture of rough versus gentle Pierre. It was no secret that the man knew how to fuck and have you screaming his name, but he also knew how to caress you, talk you through it, and make sure you were comfortable throughout. His soft kisses and careful words made your heart sing, and you swore you couldn’t love him more if you tried, yet you were proven wrong every day.

He kissed you again, a moan disappearing into your hair as he bottomed out inside of you. You gasped, feeling his hot skin against your ass before he drew back to then push straight back into you again. His hands latched back onto your hips, pulling you onto his cock as his movements grew faster. He looked down to watch, to see you wrapped around him so tightly, leaving his cock wet and glistening. You didn’t even have to see him to know he was enjoying the view, his fingertips digging harder into your skin as he grunted with every buck of his hips.

Pressing your hands firmly against the wall, you drove yourself up to stand straighter, reaching back to wrap your arm around his neck. His mouth immediately connected with the skin behind your ear, gentle kisses contrasting with the passionate, deep thrusts that had your heart racing and sweat pooling between your thighs. You gripped onto the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly to encourage him. “Are you trying to be rough with me, baby?” He teased, his tone mocking yet in the sexiest way. “Because I can be rough if you want me to.”

Pulling away, you turned around to face him. Your faces were both flushed with desire for one another, and Pierre’s white shirt was slick with sweat. You started working on the buttons, your fingers trembling as you were well aware of him gazing down at you. He watched your hands, those dainty manicured fingers undressing him like they had hundreds of times before. He’d never get tired of surrendering to you and your touch, feeling your fingertips brush against his chest as you made your way down button by button. Since the very first time you’d offered to unbutton his shirt, he’d come to prefer it. To him, there was nothing sexier than watching you take your time with him, exposing as much of him as you wanted and studying his body with those pretty eyes of yours. He loved belonging to you, just as much as you loved belonging to him.

Finishing with the last button, you grabbed both sides of the shirt and pulled Pierre closer, standing on your tiptoes to reach his face. “Show me what you can do.” You whispered, earning a groan from your partner as he pulled off his shirt and guided the two of you towards the bed. As you walked backwards, you unzipped your dress and left it on the ground, and Pierre shook off the pants that were still wrapped around his ankles.

The backs of your legs hit the bed frame and you tumbled back, head landing on the mattress. Pierre grabbed your legs, hoisting them onto the bed in front of him, finally slipping the blue lace off of you. The sight of you with your legs spread and gaze fixed upon him drove him crazy, and he found it almost impossible to decide what to do with you first. Climbing onto the bed, he wasted no time plunging inside of you once more, making you gasp and your body twinge at the delicious pain of your pussy stretching around him. You wrapped your legs around him, using your feet to pull him closer and feel more of him. Pierre moaned, gripping your ankles and placing them on his shoulders.

He gave you a look as if to ask for permission and you nodded quickly, linking your ankles behind his head. He rolled his hips forward, his cock hitting you at a deeper angle. You tried to stay focused on his face, but you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your eyes shut as his thrusts quickened. Each of your staggered breaths overlapped one another as Pierre leaned down to connect his lips with yours. You opened your mouth for him, his tongue hot and desperate against yours as the sounds of your skin slapping together grew louder. With both hands on either side of your head, Pierre hovered over you, his thrusts slowing but growing more aggressive, the tip of his dick hitting that sweet spot inside of you every time. Your hands roamed his body as well as your own, every slither of skin scorching hot to the touch. He watched as your right hand edged towards the bottom of your stomach, fingertips toying with the idea of exploring further.

Lifting your hand to his mouth, he sucked on your middle and forefinger, running his tongue along the front of them. He released them with a quiet popping sound, and you admired how his saliva moistened your fingers. “Touch yourself, baby.” He coaxed, his hands returning to their former position. You followed his order as he dropped your legs back down to his sides so you could spread them more. You slipped your fingers between your folds, your body twitching at the first touch of your clit. You were sensitive, swollen, desperate for friction. Drawing circles, you moaned loudly as Pierre attempted to match your rhythm.

You threw your head back, eyes gazing at the ceiling as he continued to pound into you, his lower stomach clashing with the back of your hand. “That’s it, Y/N. Keep going.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your knee. You couldn’t find the words to tell him how good it felt, but he already knew. He could tell by the way your cunt clenched around him. It was almost like he could feel your pulse beating against his cock.

“Pierre, I - “ You stammered, forcing your head forward to look at him. He could see it in your eyes, how close you were. Your fingers moved quicker as his thrusts grew shallow, while remaining the same speed.

“Keep those eyes on me. I want to see you when you come.”

You used to feel nervous having Pierre staring down at you as you touched yourself. Something about it made you feel more exposed than anything else, and you’d often close your eyes or look down at your own hand to distract yourself. But that didn’t bother you now. You fixed your gaze on him, rarely blinking as you rubbed your clit quicker, applying more pressure with your fingertips, growing closer and closer. His name exploded from your mouth as you came, legs shaking and toes driving into the sheets below. Once your hand was out of the way, Pierre leaned down, his chest pressing against yours as he kissed every inch of your face and neck. With one hand cupping your face, and the other gripping your hip, he buried himself inside you and groaned as he came, his entire body stiffening then collapsing on top of you.

He pulled out and moved to the side so you could go clean up if you wanted, but you stayed put. A warmth dripped out of you and down your inner thigh, and you smiled at the feeling. Silently, with nothing but the sounds of your breathing in the room, you took Pierre’s hand and pressed it between your legs, letting him feel his own cum spill out of you. He made a sound that confirmed his agreement, that he thought it was just as hot as you did. The two of you laid there as you caught your breath, before turning to face each other. His face was flushed and pupils dilated, and you were pretty sure you probably looked the same.

“Je t’aime. No matter what.” Pierre whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too. No matter what.”

“Even if your Mum hates me?” He raised his brows, making you giggle.

“Oh especially if my Mum hates you.”

#f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 oneshots #formula one fics #pierre gasly x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader

769 notes · View notes

writing-about-current-obsessions · 9 months

Text

Fic recs!

This has been in the works for some time and I’m finally sharing it! Here is a list of (almost) all of the fanfics I have read here and absolutely adored. Hopefully more people will get to enjoy them at least as much as I did.

From the oneshots that made me giggle or blush, to the longer works in the form of series that made me swoon or cry, they are all neatly collected here and more will be added in the future. I did not order them in any particular way because it is simply impossible to rank them.

If for any reason you do not want your fic here and want me to remove it, please let me know. These are not my works and I do not want to present them as such; my only intention is to compile a list of favourites to recommend and share them with as much people possible!

Daniel Ricciardo

Fuck mornings by @hotmencore

Down under by @monzamash

Forever would be pretty cool by @kha0s07

I like noses, big noses by @landologs

Two nights in the bush by @unluckyhoneybee

I’ll be yours if you want me by @landologs

Sanctuary by @curiousthyme

Bad feelings by @violetszone

Brew-tiful by @kiwisa

Nacho fries by @silverstonesainz

Met monday by @hockeyshmockey

Wiping my love away by @libraryoflovesongs

Unless you like that by @monzamash

-unnamed ask&request: husband Daniel with pregnant wife- by @httpsuniverse

Rest & recuperation by @paddockbunny

Paddock by @kii-003

Charles Leclerc

Checkup by @fleetwooods

Honeymooning by @leclsrc

Love Languages by @uglyducklingofthe2000s

The first one by @ferrstappen

No big deal by @nataliawrites

My boyfriend’s not in the mafia by @nataliawrites

Carlos Sainz

Has yet to pass by @leclsrc

Man’s world by @sgkophie (series)

Purple reminders by @silverstonesainz

Pierre Gasly

The better series (Lando & Pierre) by @holllandtrash (series)

Keeping score by @charlewiss-writes

[ 17:28 ] by @thebearchives

Lando Norris

The better series (Pierre & Lando) by @holllandtrash (series)

The chats going mad over you two by @hotmencore

Sight for sore eyes by @charlesslut16

Toto Wolff

Starcrossed by @totowlff

Inappropriate relationship by @whorekneecentral

No longer a secret by @h-c-u (series)

Uncertainty by @h-c-u

Pillowtalk by @totowlff

Last updated: 06.08.2023.

591 notes · View notes

hey-kae · 2 years

Note

I am back! I haven’t been as active because of Uni work but your content has been keeping me going! Could I perhaps interest you in an idea of a wedding night fic with either Pierre or Charles? Sweet and smutty where they are just so obsessed with you and can’t believe they get to call you Mrs. Leclerc/Gasly? If youre too busy totally understand! Keep up your amazing content!!!

Princess Treatment

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x female reader

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, oral sex (female receiving and a hint male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, a hint of cockwarming.

a/n: i chose Pierre for this one cause i still haven’t written smut for him so there you go! I hope you like it. Feedback is always appreciated.

Your head was buzzing and your ears ringing as the day neared its end, a day that would forever be engraved in your memory and Pierre's, stored safely for the two of you to look back on years down the road as you grew old together.

Today, after years of dating, you got married to the love of your life and your best friend and you were over the moon about it. Similarly, Pierre was beaming, repeatedly calling you Mrs. Gasly because it "just sounds so fucking good."

The wedding turned out magical and all the stressing and planning seemed to have payed off since everything went perfectly smoothly. The reception afterwards was exactly what you and Pierre wanted, laid back and not pretentious but as the night progressed and somewhat formal guests left, it turned into a proper party with your close friends and family and the wild nature of things only escalated from that point on.

You knew that you were in for a long but perfect night when Pierre whispered to you not to get too drunk, his hand teasingly low on your back, picking softy at the delicate fabric of your white wedding dress.

Dancing with your now husband was also an experience since he continuously leaned in to speak to you right into your ear, his words alternating between sweet nothings and pure filth considering the amount of people surrounding you.

By the time he whisked you away to your hotel suite, you were already eager for some time alone with him so you happily bid all the remaining people goodbye and allowed him to carry you away, bridal style of course.

Pierre was practically skipping down the hallway, chuckling along with you out of pure joy, both of you high on life from the unforgettable day you had. Sure, it was tiring but it was perfect in every way.

Halfway to the room, he leaned down and captured your lips with his, the soft laughs getting lost in the contact but the smiles withstanding it. It seemed like those smiles would be everlasting.

He kissed you softly and delicately, moving his lips gently against yours, and while the angle wasn't exactly working in his favor, he still managed to build up a feeling of anticipation in you as your hold on him tightened and his steps slowed.

"We're married." He sighed contently into the kiss, and just like that, you pulled away, you eyes locking with his momentarily before the both of you erupted in laughter, purely out of happiness, just before he stopped in front of a door and put you down to unlock it.

Moving to get inside the room, you were interrupted by Pierre hands holding onto your waist firmly.

"Attends!" Wait! he protested, "I wanna do it like in the movies."

With a sheepish smile, he lifted you up again and carried you inside, straight to the bedroom where he sat you down on the bed and went for a better kiss than the one from a minute ago.

"Je t'aime." I love you. He reminded as his hand found its resting spot on the side of your neck.

"Je t'aime moi aussi." I love you too. You replied between kisses, feeling the way his lips were shifted from soft to firm against yours.

Taking the hint pretty quickly, you pushed him back by the shoulders and stood up, "Before, your first task as a husband. You gotta help me out of this dress." You smiled at him while he grinned, barely registering anything other than the word "husband". He happily nodded and waited for you to turn around.

You faced the other side and pulled your hair away but instead of Pierre's hands finding the zipper, his lips were on your neck and shoulders, kissing the soft skin there at a slow pace that was giving you goosebumps while his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to him until his chest was flush against your back.

Instinctively, your head tilted to the side, allowing him more space, your hand reaching for him and resting on the side of his face, feeling his beard rubbing on your skin.

"My beautiful wife..." He sighed, the light blow of air messing with your mind but also making you chuckle because, in all honesty, that might just be the most satisfying phrase you've heard.

The way he was moving so delicately around you was making you impatient and to make things more frustrating, that was a rare occurrence, for him to be so slow with everything.

"Pierre..." You groaned and dropped your head back onto his shoulder, "The dress, i need it off. Please."

With a small laugh, he nodded and took a step back, "D'accord, chérie."

A frown made its way onto his face as he attempted figure out how exactly to unzip the dress, the contraption a bit more complicated than usual to ensure reliability but he was quick to make sense of things, undoing the little clasps and reaching for the zipper, sliding it down slowly, watching the goosebumps on your skin as his fingers traced along your back.

Underneath the white fancy fabric, your bridesmaids had convinced you to wear a bridal lingerie set, their arguments sustained by the fact that the nature of the dress you had chosen didn't require any shape wear, making this a perfect opportunity, and as they showed you the delicate garments they had purchased for you, making you imagine Pierre's reaction to it, you couldn't help but agree. Therefore, that was all you could think of as your husband's hands snuck underneath your wedding dress, sliding along your waist to the front of your body before pushing the gown down, fully expecting it to fall to the ground but naturally, that wasn't the case and he ended up practically yanking on it, making you burst out in laughter as you called his name, offering some much needed help.

"Pierre!" You giggled, clasping your hand on top of his and repeating his name until he twirled you around to face him, smiling at your laughing face.

"It hates me." He pouted, moving closer until his lips brushed with yours.

"It doesn't." You continued chuckling, pushing him back so he was sat on the bed and handling the job on your own.

Suddenly, the dress was cooperating, pooling little by little by your feet until the sheer, lace bra came into view. Pierre was quick to groan, his head dropping back for a mere second before he brought his attention back to you, licking his lips as he leaned back a little and supported his weight on his arms.

You bent forward slightly to pull down to gown more efficiently, what caused your tits to spill out just as your white thong became exposed as well, doing barely anything to hide your pussy from your husband and by that point, Pierre was already getting hard and you could see it through his pants.

He couldn't keep his hands to himself any longer. He got back up and grabbed your hands, helping you step out of your dress, quickly pulling you with him to the bed where he guided you onto his lap to straddle him while he sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Tu me rends fou, princesse." You make me crazy, princess. He said, his tone low and husky now.

"Princesse?" You arched an eyebrow, moving your hand up his chest and starting to work on undoing his bowtie, "Ça c'est nouveau." That’s new. A smile spread onto your face after you pointed that out and moved to kiss his neck.

"You looked like a princess today." He shrugged, watching as you tossed away the bowtie and moved your hands into the shoulders of his suit jacket, sliding them down his arms before finally removing it off him.

"You had me planning all the different ways i want to make love to you all day long but you're wearing this," his hand moved from you waist to your chest where he slightly pinched a nipple through the fabric, "and it makes me wanna fuck you instead."

By now, you were already soaking through your underwear, trying to focus on unbuttoning his shirt but failing miserably. Somehow, you still managed to have him shirtless, even as you resisted the urge to squirm on his lap from just those words.

"Well, we've got all night, don't we? And all the days to come."

With your hands on his shoulder, you leaned forward and placed a kiss right between his collarbones, "We can do both, as many times as we want."

"Fuck, you're not gonna be able to walk by the end of the honeymoon." Pierre chuckled, grabbing onto your wrists and holding them behind your back with one hand, the other supporting you as he crashed his lips against yours with a heavy force, your lips immediately moving against each other messily, the burning need within the both of you growing stronger by the second, getting fueled by the way his teeth were teasing you lower lip and the way your tongue was struggling against his, clashing with Pierre's in a needy and demanding way that was reciprocated by him.

Before you knew it, you took notice of the way that you were grinding again his clothed crotch, your body looking to satisfy its needs without your mind's approval.

"Mrs. Gasly seems desperate." He smirked against your mouth, his hand looser against your wrists now.

"Pierre, please." You whined, "You looked so good all day and i need you."

You attempted pulling your hands free and he didn't resist so you immediately starting undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, brushing your hand over the outline of his hard cock as you did so. Meanwhile, he sat back and watched you with the ghost of a smile until you startled him by slipping your hand into his boxers rather quickly, immediately moving your thumb over his tip, you eyes drifting up to his face to see him as he let out a throaty groan, his eyes screwing shut.

Taking that as your sign, you moved off his lap for better access, kneeling down between his legs and getting rid of his pants and boxers, revealing his hard on, already dripping in precum and twitching like it's begging for attention.

You leaned down and licked a stripe up his length before moving back and wrapping your hand around him, sticking to that for now while he watched through hazy, hooded eyes.

You moved you hand up and down, your thumb twirling over his tip, the other hand wrapped around his base, your fingers moving slightly around his cock as well.

"Merde," Pierre sighed, taking a deep breath like was recomposing himself, "get up. Please."

You stopped your movements, trying to understand why did he want that.

Seeing your confused look, he was quick to explain. "You're getting the princess treatment tonight." He smiled, grabbing onto your arms and helping you up and back on his lap.

"You ask for anything and you'll get it. We just got married, i think there's better things to do than that." He said and didn't wait for an answer before his hands were on your tits, teasing your nipples from over the bra, knocking the air right out of your lungs.

He moved his fingers expertly, his thumbs flicking over the hard nub time and time again, making you arch into him just as his forefinger to join the party as he delivered gentle pinches that pulled erotic moans out of you.

You could feel his hard cock poking you, putting wild thoughts into your mind. You wanted it inside you already but you also wanted to do other things first, what you found slightly conflicting. However, you didn't have time to dwell on your contradictory thoughts because Pierre pulled down the material of the bra and leaned forward, capturing a nipple between his lips, this teeth grazing it with just enough force that it caused you to pull on his hair and squeal his name as his hand continued toying with the other nub.

"Fuck, Pierre. Please." You moaned, looking down onto him as he pulled away and locked his eyes with yours, a smirk on his lips.

"Fuck, you're actually Mrs. Gasly now." He said it like it just dawned upon him.

"Pierre..." A groan left your mouth, your hand reaching for his to guide him, "Look, baby. I'm so wet for you." You ended the sentence with a kiss as you got him to cup your pussy, "Please, do something."

He felt the wetness through the thong's front, his middle finger pushing a bit until he came in contact with your clit through the thin layer of fabric.

You gasped at the teasing contact, rolling your hips against his hand as longed for friction.

"Anything you want, chérie." With that, he pushed the thong aside and dipped two fingers into your pussy, earning an instant moan from you as your eyes screwed shut and all you could think of was the slight stretch you felt as he began moving his digits inside of you.

"Fuck." You groaned, dropping your head onto his shoulder, breathing heavily and gripping onto his bicep for support.

You started grinding your hips, the movements meeting halfway with his, increasing your pleasure and leaving you wanting more.

"Pierre," you sharply inhaled, "more. S'il te plaît." Please.

For once, he gave you what you wanted, not feeling like teasing you tonight. Instead, there was a need to satisfy your every need and pay attention to every detail that night. His thumb found your clit just as he pushed in a third finger.

Your reaction to that was intense. Your walls clenched as a loud moan made its way out, the feeling he was giving you becoming so strong so fast, it left you slacked against his chest, your face hidden in his neck, the small whines and whimpers you were letting out vibrating against his skin.

You couldn't help the moans that were repeatedly leaving your mouth in sync with the movements of his hand but Pierre didn't mind it one bit. He loved the sounds you were letting out.

Just as you started feeling your orgasm near, he started littering lazy kisses on your neck and shoulder, his tongue meeting your skin for mere instants with every peck he delivered until your thighs were shaking.

"Fuck-" you gasped, "i'm so close."

Pierre lifted your face a bit so he had access to your lips, kissing you deeply to divert your focus off the fact that he was already pulling his fingers out but there was almost nothing in this world that would distract you from that.

"Pierre..." you whined in annoyance.

"Relax, baby." He smiled, "I just want a taste." He sloppily kissed your lips again, "I want you to cum on my tongue. Can you do that for me, Mrs. Gasly?"

Before you had your chance to reply, he had you laid out on the bed, spread out for him just like he wanted, in the position he's been picturing you in all day long.

"Je suis si chanceux de t'épouser, mon amour." I am so lucky to marry you, my love. Pierre started by kissing up your thighs, "Si chanceux de t'avoir comme ça, m'attendant pour que je te fais jouir." So lucky to have you like this, waiting for me to make you cum.

With every word he said, he moved further up higher, you bit on your lip harder and your breathing became more erratic.

"Pierre, less talking. I'm begging."

He chuckled like the menace he is and hooked his fingers into the hem of the thong, dragging it down slowly until it was completely off.

"Tu veux que je te baise ou que je te fais de l'amour?" Do you want me to fuck you or make love to you? He asked as he pulled your legs apart and held them in position.

Rarely did you ever talk to him in french during sex but if that is what would it would take for him to actually do something, then you were more than willing to.

"Tout les deux, mais maintenant j'ai tellement besoin de ta bouche. S'il te plaît." Both, but now i really need your mouth. Please.

You barely finished speaking when you felt him thumb on your clit again and his tongue lapping at your entrance. It immediately made you want to arch your back as the bubbling feeling returned but Pierre held you down and focused entirely on tongue fucking you.

Having Pierre's tongue work its magic on your pussy never got old but over time, you learned that he found pleasure in eating you out as well, what efficiently explained how lost in it he gets.

Within seconds, he had turned your exhales into small whimpers. The pleasure was building up really fast and he was quick to take notice of the way your walls were contracting against his tongue.

"Pierre - oh my god, fuck." You moaned, digging your fingers into his hair for a bit of support, what caused him to groan against you, bringing you closer to your release.

"I'm gonna-" you were cut off by a loud moan leaving your mouth.

"Let go, princesse." Pierre reassured and picked up the pace in which his finger was moving on your clit while he continued moving his tongue at a mellow pace, taking his time to fully enjoy this.

The contrast of speeds clouded your mind, making you confused about what area he was stimulating to focus more on but if anything, that made you lose control faster and at an increased level. You ended up squirming under his touch when you came, his hands holding your thighs apart, rubbing soft circles on the skin while he kept lapping at your wetness until you stilled and your heavy breathing could be heard loud and clear.

His fingers intertwined with yours and he helped you into a sitting position that left you facing his grinning face.

"Madame Gasly, tout va bien?" Mrs. Gasly, is everything okay? He asked, still smiling widely.

"Tu vas m'appeler ça pour combien de temps, chéri?" How long are you gonna call me that, darling? You chuckled, freeing your hands from his and wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you.

"Forever." Pierre answered just as you brought your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He immediately started grazing your lips with his tongue while allowing his hands to roam around your body, making you shiver.

You were slightly ticklish by nature, especially when it came to light touches around your waist so when his hands trailed up your legs, tracing soft lines on your hips and moving further up to your that area, you couldn't help the little squeal that escaped into the kiss.

Pierre pulled back with an amused smile.

"Damn, i always forget this."

With that, he pushed you back to lay flat on the mattress and started tickling you with his face in the crook of your neck, allowing him to leave messy kisses there as you laughed and squirm.

The sound of the two of you giggling echoed through the room until a small, accidental friction made you moan and diverted your attention back to previous activities.

"Pierre-" you paused to give him a peck, "I need you, baby."

"Fuck." He let out a deep groan, "Anything you want. I wanna treat you like i princess tonight, i already told you."

As he was still speaking, one of his hands grabbed one of your legs and raised it up to his waist, making you instinctively wrap it around him.

"Je dois te débarrasser de ça en premier." I need to rid you of this first. He tugged at the bra you didn't realize you were still wearing.

Nodding, you arched your back and he unclipped the garment with ease and threw it away, leaving his hand to toy with you one of your nipples, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger and teasing it in a way he knew would get a reaction out of you. His eyes remained locked with yours as he wrapped his lips around the second nub, the tip of his tongue poking you with the perfect amount of pressure. However, that didn't last long.

His lips were back on yours as his hand moved down to tease your clit again, and immediately your hips bucked against his.

"Please, Pierre." You struggled to speak against his mouth.

At your plea, he straightened up and you could now see his hand moving around your pussy. You couldn't take your eyes off the movement of his fingers, the feeling mixing so well with the sight, it almost made you cum on spot.

"If you keep this up-" you gasped as he traced a digit around your entrance and quickly resumed stimulating your clit, "i will cum."

He smiled at you, "And why is that a bad thing? You deserve this, baby especially after all those tiring months of planning. Je veux te voir perdre contrôle. Peux tu me faire ça?" I want to see you lose control. Can you do that for me?

His words barely registered in your mind before you were nodding, your eyes screwing shut and you lip trapped between your teeth at the pleasure of another orgasm creeping up.

Your back was arching, your head digging into the pillows behind you while soft moans that Pierre loved repeatedly escaped.

He started picking up the pace, moving his fingers in circles motions, his eyes alternating between looking at you and looking at the way his hand was moving but when it started being more and more obvious that you were close, his attention was fully diverted to your reactions. He watched with satisfaction and love as your lips parted in a breathless way, your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes closed while your hand fisted the sheets beneath you, you knuckles turning white.

"Oh my god-" he heard you gasp seconds before you came and your body relaxed on the bed.

Pierre hovered over you with a smile and waited for you to open your eyes, one of his hands caressing your cheek until your gaze met his.

"I love you." You said with a peaceful grin that made Pierre's heart flutter.

"I love you too." He replied, placing a kiss on your head.

He allowed you to catch your breath for a few moments but soon enough, he felt your legs around his waist. He looked down at you with one eyebrow arched.

"Peux-je...?" Can i…? He asked with amusement.

"Oh, please do." You said with a chuckle.

That was the cue he needed.

His hand traveled down and wrapped around his cock. He was so hard that that contact alone made him groan so he immediately started guiding it to your entrance. Putting a bit of space between your bodies, he tilted his head down to watch as he sunk into you and you couldn't help but to do so as well.

Your gaze remained glued onto the way his hand was directing his cock to your pussy and you could feel the tip poking into you, making you part your lips in anticipation, eager to feel the stretch already.

He moved his hand away and started pushing in deeper at such a slow pace that left you feeling every inch and every vein, the feeling corresponding perfectly with the way you could see him disappear inside of you.

When he finally thrusted all the way in, your head dropped back into the pillows, a sharp gasp leaving your lips in sync with one that left his.

"Merde, you take my cock so good, princesse. It looks so good inside you." He said breathlessly and it made you look back to where your body connected with his while your senses were dominated by the feeling of being so full of him, your pulsating pussy stretched around him already feeling so good that you couldn't help repeatedly squeezing his cock repeatedly.

When he took notice that you were watching the way he fit inside you, Pierre diverted his gaze to your face just as he delivered the first thrust.

With hooded eyes, you looked at the way his cock moved slowly out, you wetness coating it now and the way it moved back inside.

"C'est un propre spectacle à voir, non?" That’s a sight to see, no? He teased and at this point, neither of you had any idea of how he was managing to stay so composed.

You didn't respond, mainly because the way you could feel him so deep was getting overwhelming when he wasn't moving, it had you squirming.

"I know i love watching my cock disappear into your pussy." He continued.

"Pierre, please move." Your arms were now around his neck, pulling him closer until a few centimeters were all that was left between your face and his, "Please." You whispered to him.

He moaned and gave you what you wanted, starting to thrust at a sensual pace. He pushed in then pulled out slowly and repeatedly, allowing the both of you to feel every last thing. After all, this wasn't just a regular night, it was your wedding night and he believed it needed to be special.

While he kept up the same pace, he leaned forward and started kissing almost every inch of skin accessible to him while you lost your self in the pleasure.

A few words slipped out of his mouth as mumblings between kisses and if anything, they heightened the pressure in your stomach.

Back at the alter, you exchanged vows that meant the world to both of you but the things he was saying right now felt like a personal, raw version of these vows. You couldn't help all the feelings these words were giving you.

"T'es beaucoup trop parfaite." You’re far too perfect. He spoke just before his lips met your collarbone, "And i want to spend every day loving you in every way i can."

After that, he pulled your leg up by the thigh, allowing him to hit a deeper spot that immediately left you breathless as your body arched, pressing against his now.

"La façon que ton corps correspond si parfaitement au mien est sacré pour moi." The way your body corresponds so perfectly to mine is sacred to me. He exhaled those words once he felt you skin against his, and at that, a loud moan resonated in the room.

Pierre's lips met yours as he picked up the pace, each of you swallowing the other's moans until you felt the burning sensation again.

"Pierre-"

"I know, chérie." He reassured, keeping the same pattern and going back to kissing you, the way your walls were closing around him making him want to lose all control.

A moment later, he left you cum around him so he gave you a few seconds to readjust, during which he watched your face adoringly. During that brief moment, he had a whole rerealization of how much he loves you. It made him heart swell and beat faster.

"Putain, je suis si amoureux de toi." Fuck, i’m so in love with you.

Your eyes fluttered back open to meet his glistening ones and the expression on his face left you speechless so you pulled him back into yet another kiss that did wonders in conveying your feelings.

He resumed thrusting, his moans now the only ones in the room and you loved hearing him. It was an insane confidence boost that your body was what was making his feel that way.

One hand moved up and down his back as he continued moving, the other in his hair, scratching softly at his roots until you felt him twitch inside of you, signaling that he was cumming.

He collapsed onto your chest, trying to catch his breath while you hugged him for a while.

Eventually, he flipped you over with his cock still deep inside of you so he was half-sat against the wooden headboard, his fingers brushing through your hair as he thought back on the day while you laid on his chest, dangerously close to falling asleep, a slight astonishment in your mind concerning how tiring the wedding turned out to be.

"Baby..." you heard Pierre softly whisper.

"Mhm...?"

"Donne moi la main un peu." Give me your hand a bit.

You rolled your eyes as you knew where this was going but you lifted your hand towards him nonetheless, tilting your head up to look at him too.

His eyes immediately found the ring and he was now grinning and sighing in what seemed to relief and content.

"Ma belle Madame Gasly." My beautiful Mrs. Gasly. He chuckled with his eyes closed and his head against the headboard, exposing his throat. You couldn't resist kissing his neck then while you too grinned as well.

"Je t'aime." I love you. You beamed and he said it right back.

A few moments passed in silence before he spoke up again.

"Can i stay inside of you? Easier access in the morning." He smirked.

You playfully slapped his chest.

"What?" He acted offended.

"Fine, i guess." You groaned, knowing full damn well that you weren't gonna ask him to pull out in the first place, "I can wake you up by riding you." You teased him back.

"Not if i wake up first and wake you up by fucking you." Pierre challenged.

"Fine then. Whoever wakes up first gets the privileges, Mr. Gasly."

"Fine then, Mrs. Gasly."

That was supposed to be when the two of you fell asleep but seconds later you heard Pierre laughing.

"What is it?" You asked.

He shrugged and smiled, "I absolutely love married life so far."

#pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly oneshots #pierre gasly drabble #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x you #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x you #f1 x reader #pierre gasly imagines

1K notes · View notes

loganshouseofworship · 7 days

Text

Daffodils the symbol of new beginnings and in this case a second chance — Pierre Gasly x Leclerc!reader

If Pierre was being honest with himself he hated himself. He hated the fact that he had hurt you, one of the most important people in his life. Pierre hated that he left you on his own alone pregnant with his daughter. Pierre was terrified he had gotten his best friend's baby sister pregnant and bolted when he found out. Even though Pierre wasn’t directly present throughout your pregnancy he still gets updates from your socials and Charles.

Charles he didn’t know who your baby daddy was and he wasn’t going to pressure you into telling him who he was. Charles had faith that one day you’ll come out and tell him all on your own deep down Charles knew who the father was. Charles was ecstatic about becoming an uncle; he couldn't wait to meet the little girl and spoil his niece.

Pierre has been watching your social for updates on you and the baby since your announcement. He’s still shocked that you haven’t said his name, and he’s still scared shitless that if he shows his face that there would be problems. He’s trying to get the balls to reach out and apologize. He wants to be there for you and his daughter.

The closer you get to your due date, the more Pierre gets nervous. He knows he has to reach out and tell you how sorry he is, but his anxiety is through the roof just thinking of reaching out. He doesn't know how you'll react. He doesn't want to cause any drama, but he knows he has to step up and be there for his daughter.

He takes a deep breath and picks up his phone to text you for the first time since you’re told him you were pregnant. His finger hovers over the message button, but he can’t seem to bring himself to press send and send the text

He finally takes a deep breath and presses send on the text. Once he sends it, his heart is pounding. He's waiting for you to respond and is hoping you'll reach out to him so you can both have an adult conversation about the situation.

He waits a few minutes, and when he doesn't hear back from you he starts to sweat. He checks his phone again and again, hoping to hear back from you. His mind starts to spiral and he wonders if he made the right choice and if you'll even want to talk to him at all.

His phone finally buzzes and he's startled by the notification. He sees that you have responded to his text. His heart starts beating faster as he opens the message and reads what you have to say.

He feels relieved when he sees your response and that you're open to talking to him, but he's still anxious about what will happen next. He replies back and you two start talking about what happened between the two of you and how to move forward now that you're having a baby together.

The conversation starts off rocky and tense but eventually becomes more open and honest. He’s finally able to open up about how he's been feeling and the guilt he's been carrying around. You’re able to express how hurt and overwhelmed you felt when he left.

Eventually you both come to a mutual understanding and agree to move forward with coparenting. Pierre realizes how much he missed having you in his life and how much he cares about you. He apologizes profusely for his behavior in the past and promises to be present going forward.

You agree to move forward as well, and the two of you decide that it would be best for your daughter if you can both be involved in her life. You both promise to work together to provide the best life possible for your child and to always keep her best interests at heart.

Pierre feels a mixture of relief and joy at the thought of being involved in his daughter's life. He's excited to meet her and to finally be a part of her life. He realizes that the past can't be changed, but he's committed to making things right and being the best father he can be.

You feel relieved as well that you and Pierre were able to have an open and honest conversation and that both of you are willing to work together for the sake of your child. Despite past hurt and disappointment, you're both committed to giving your daughter a happy and stable environment.

When the day came, Pierre was both nervous and excited. Originally he was going to meet you at your home. Pierre even went and got flowers. He didn’t want to get any flowers, he wanted something to symbolize second chances. So he went and did some research and found out that Daffodils represent second chances. It was perfect.

It was almost too perfect because you sent him a message saying that you were in labor and going to the hospital. Pierre read your message with growing panic. He couldn't believe it was happening so quickly. The last time he saw you, you weren't even showing yet. Everything was happening so quickly, and he felt completely unprepared for the monumental moment that was quickly approaching.

So with that Pierre hightailed it to the hospital he wasn’t going to leave you alone again or his daughter.

Pierre made the drive to the hospital as quickly as he could and practically ran into the building. When he got there he quickly checked in at reception and asked for your room number. He couldn't even take the time to buy a present or think about anything else. He just wanted to be there for you and his child.

Rushing into the room you were in he found you surrounded by a doctor and a couple nurses with your brother by your side.

Pierre stopped in his tracks as he entered the room. He saw you, surrounded by medical personnel, and his brother standing by your side. He couldn't believe that this was really happening. His head was spinning a million miles an hour, but he had to remain calm and in control.

“I’m here” Pierre said out of breath holding the daffodils that he got for you.

All heads turn to look at Pierre when he suddenly spoke up. Everyone stops what they're doing and turns to look at him as he enters the room with the daffodils. Pierre is out of breath but he manages to hold the flowers in his hands. He tries to remain calm as he says he's here holding up the daffodils, which he selected specifically for their meaning of second chances.

Charles is the first one to speak up. “Looks like someone’s here just in time," Charles says with a slight smile. Charles knows that Pierre is probably regretting not being there earlier in the pregnancy, but he’s happy that Pierre is here now and wants to try to be there for his sister and niece.

“You knew?” Pierre asked shocked

Charles nods. “Yeah, you really think I wouldn’t notice the mood swings and stuff?” Charles says jokingly. Charles knows that his best friend is the father of his baby sister’s child, but he respects his sister’s wish to keep things private for now. Charles also realizes how important it is for his baby sister that Pierre is here and that he cares enough to want to be involved despite the circumstances.

“Are you going to stand there or are you going to come over here and support her?” Charles asked

Pierre turns his attention to you as Charles speaks. He can’t help but smile faintly when he hears Charles calling him out. Pierre realizes that he’s been standing there like a deer in headlights, and he quickly moves over to your side, reaching out to take your hand. Pierre's nerves are still on edge, but he's doing his best to remain calm and supportive.

After a few hours of labor, you finally deliver a healthy baby daughter. The two of you have agreed on the name Daphnia, which Pierre also thinks is very appropriate, considering how daffodils symbolize second chances. Pierre is amazed by how beautiful and perfect his daughter is and can't help but be in awe of you as you brought this precious life into the world.

119 notes · View notes

norrisleclercf1 · 7 months

Note

Hi could you please do sunshine reader with Pierre and he like is rude to everyone except her, biggest softy for her, devil for anyone else 🧸🫠

A/N: Honestly I picture Pierre like this in real life, I feel like he's sorta a dick ( I say this with love) but with the people he loves he's a softy

Pierre has never once cared what people think about him. He's the type of person where he said he'd never change for love or for a person. He liked his dirty humor, quick temper, and moving around the world.

So, meeting you for the first time and feeling this overwhelming need to just shield you from everything that makes him, him. Pierre started to slow down, keeping his dirty jokes to himself and not letting his temper flare at the first issues. Pierre even started to not travel around the world unless for F1.

Charles noticed it first, when he brought it up Pierre about bit his head off and that was the end of the conversation. The Frenchman hated when you came up as a topic, refusing to let anyone talk about you.

Pierre started to fall for you when you started to smile at him and always stayed so cheerful. He started to keep that side of himself away from you, he was the thunder cloud and you the sunshine.

"Pierre?" Your voice calls pulls him back into the restaurant as he smiles at you. "Yes, sunflower?" Pierre smiles, Carlos, Charles, Estaban, and some of the others all turn hearing Pierre's sweet voice.

"The waiter asked you what you wanted?" Charles dips his head down, knowing that Pierre hated when people rushed him. "Oh, sorry." Pierre smiles at you, grabbing your hand and kissing it.

"Just give me the special." Pierre's lips tight as he shoves the menu into the waiter's chest. "And for you ma'am?" The waiter goes but Pierre stops him telling him you'll have the same thing as him.

Charles whispers an apology for the harsh Pierre, but the waiter just smiles, Pierre being completely wrapped up in your conversation with Carlos. As the night moves on the more Pierre was slowly becoming irritated with Carlos who was pulling your attention away from him.

"Hey, can you stop talking to my girlfriend so much." Pierre hisses, as you giggle at one of Estebans jokes. "Why?" Carlos asks, batting those eyelashes like he's innocent. The boys hated that you couldn't see the true Pierre as he was sickly sweet with you.

"Asshole," Pierre snarls, you turn hearing the curse. "Pierre, apologies. Carlos has done nothing wrong to warrent that language." Your tone was gently but firm as Pierre white-knuckles his fork. "I apologize Carlos," Pierre smiles clearly fake but you don't notice.

"Good boy," Pierre melts his smile turning real as he leans in letting you kiss his cheek.

984 notes · View notes

violetszone · 10 months

Text

Fight and Crash

Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: You had a silly fight with Pierre before the race and he crashed at the race.

WARNINGS: not edited writing, quick end

You didn't usually argue with Pierre, and the beauty of your relationship impressed many people in the paddock.But these days, for some reason, there was a cold and tension between you.

And whatever you did you were pissing each other off.Talking to one of the mechanics in Pierre's garage before the race was the topic of argue today because Pierre was implying that the boy was hitting on you, and you were just trying to be nice to that person.

But Pierre got very angry with you about this, and you continued to talk to that boy in the garage, a little out of spite, and you didn't even look at Pierre when he got into the car. Even though the cameras didn't see it, you got into a very fierce fight inside.

After Pierre got out of the garage with his car, you turned away from the boy and focused on the race.There was no problem at the beginning of the race, Pierre was very fast, and he was taking the best laps he could ever do with this car.

But for a moment something happened and before you could understand Pierre hit the barriers hard and you looked at the screen in shock everyone was surprised and the red flag was seen.

All of a sudden, the voices around you were blurred,attendant next to you was telling you something, but you were just looking at the screen, you couldn't even perceive it.

Someone pulled you aside and made you come back to yourself, you were fine even though you were still in shock.You said you wanted to see Pierre as soon as possible, but they just told you that they took him out of the car, that the paramedics were there and that you had to wait.

It was almost like death 15 minutes passed, everything was running through your mind, you felt like you were going to lose your mind.Finally an attendant took you to the place where Pierre was.

Pierre was lying on the gurney with a serum on his arm, he looked fine even though he had a few bruises on his body, he smiled when he saw you.You said "God you scared me stupid" and covered your face with your hand, you were seriously upset and you were so scared for him

Pierre laughed and reached out with his non-serum arm and took your hand "The doctor said that my girlfriend should hug me for me to heal, otherwise my heart can't take any more damage"

You hit his arm with anger and then you hugged him in a way that doesn't hurt him."I was really scared I'm sorry we had a fight it was my fault" Pierre shook his head, "No, I was guilty too, now forget it, I'm fine"

You caressed his cheek and smiled "When your serum is finished, let's take you to the hotel and sleep" he smiled "I just need you to get well my love".The argument between the two of you could have lasted this long your love for each other always outweighed

364 notes · View notes

formulapierre · 6 months

Text

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

188 notes · View notes