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thef1diary · 9 months

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All The Love We Lost | P. Gasly

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

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

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

word count: 6.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Pierre and Daniel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You truly didn't have the energy to face everything at home. And as much as you wanted to stay because of Daniel, you also used him as an excuse so you don't have to go home.

He didn't respond, so you changed the topic of conversation, "now it's time for you to rest properly."

He smiled a bit and nodded before closing his eyes. You moved from the chair to the couch in the corner of the room that would be your bed for tonight.

You made the mistake of looking at your phone, a photo of Pierre set as the background. You ignored that and glanced at the messages you received from the other drivers, all knowing the news about Pierre. However, it wasn't announced to the public yet.

——

You were woken up by the sound of a glass breaking. Immediately getting up, you saw the cause of the sound. "Daniel!" You gasped, and he paused mid action, feeling like a little child who got caught.

You rushed over to his side, avoiding the broken glass on the floor. This happened because he tried to pick up a glass of water from the side table.

You picked up another glass and filled up the water from the jug. Then, instead of giving it to him, you held it for him as he slowly sipped.

Once he pulled away, you placed it down on the table again. "You could've woken me up" you told him. "I underestimated my uselessness." He shrugged.

"You're not useless. You're hurt, and if you keep this up then I might just have you move in with me so I can properly take care of you." You rushed out the first words that came to mind.

Daniel watched as the realization came across your face, already shaking his head. "Actually that's exactly what we're going to do." You told him.

"I am perfectly fine, you don't have to take care of me like I'm a child." He huffed, and you had to stop yourself from smiling because he did in fact look like a child right now. "Oh really? Then show me you can get up all on your own."

You observed him as he attempted to do as you told, key word being attempt. But, when he removed the blanket to prevent any restriction, you stopped him from actually trying to get up.

Finally seeing the extent of his injuries, your heart hurt. His left leg had a long line of stitches below his knee. His right ankle had a cast, restricting any movement. Other than those injuries, his legs were littered with bruises.

"I was joking, don't actually move. Please." The tone of your voice instantly changed into worry. Placing the blanket back over him, you sat on the couch again, ignoring the glass for now. It was past midnight anyways so you didn't want to bother the staff.

"You're not actually going to have me move in with you, are you?" He asked. "I'd prefer if you did because I don't want you to live alone, but if you don't want to then I can't force you." You didn't expect him to give a response to that right away.

——

Two days after that, you were told to go home to rest, and you definitely knew that was just a nicer way to tell you that you needed a shower.

Lando had taken your spot of taking care of Daniel in the hospital while Charles chose to drive you home. He chose to come if you needed him for anything, not wanting to leave you alone.

He looked horrible though, messy hair, red eyes, clothes mismatched. Yet he showed up for you.

Maybe you were glad that he came with because what you were faced with, you couldn't have done it alone. Once you entered the building, the doorman gave you a package, saying that it had been two days since it was here.

You had no idea what it was, but it was wrapped very nicely. Entering your apartment, you inhaled sharply looking around at everything with a new perspective.

Your home had lost its homey feeling.

Deciding to open the package, you saw the contents inside. Maybe you shouldn't have opened it but you also didn't know that it was from Pierre.

"It's been a week, can you believe that? I just spent another seven days with my lover. But I'm sure most of those days were probably spent away from you because of work. Think of this as a little apology gift."

- Your one and only

You read the note, and a tear stained the paper. Unwrapping it fully, you saw that there was a little couples spa package and plane tickets to Santorini.

Pierre had preordered this gift because he knew that he would forget about it during the race week. That's what he was doing when he was acting a little suspicious on his laptop.

"Charles" you cried, handing him the note before hugging him tightly. "I miss him, I miss him so much."

"Me too." He folded the notes after reading it. Pierre had told him about this idea, and he was fully on board with it even though he was slightly annoyed at your public affection of love. Both Pierre and Charles knew you'd be so happy receiving this gift, but now Charles witnessed it himself that while the sentiment was there, it was a really bad time.

"I'm sorry, he told me about this and I completely forgot. I shouldn't have brought you here." He told you, but you shook your head. "I'm gonna have to live here anyways."

"You can always move in with me." He suggested. "It's okay, thank you though."

You moved further inside, going to the bedroom. Bracing yourself as you entered. Charles chose to wait outside, he felt like the moment was too personal.

He didn't hear any sound coming from the room, and a while had passed. Checking the time, it had been an hour since you were in your room. He wandered by the door, looking around for you.

And when he did, he entered the room. You are cuddled up on the bed clutching one of Pierre's hoodies, that no doubt smelt like him. There were tear stains on your cheeks, and your eyes were tightly shut.

Instead of waking you up, he spread a blanket over your body and left the room. Before leaving the apartment, he took one of the spare keys if there was an emergency.

Then, he fired off a text to tell you that he left, and to call him if you need anything.

——

Today was the day that Daniel would be discharged from the hospital and move in with you for however long he needed. Again, it was a little selfish decision on your end because you didn't want to be alone. However, you couldn't say that out loud anymore, after all it had been a week since Pierre died.

While your friends still comforted you, you felt like a burden to them. Always needing them to take care of you, so you thought that at least with Daniel around, he wouldn't judge and you actually looked forward to spending time with him.

You still cried, every day. While making breakfast, while taking a shower, while doing any normal day-to-day activities. You were still a mess. To the point where you avoided looking at yourself in the mirror unless it was absolutely necessary.

Kind of like this moment, where you needed to look presentable before the guys came over. Lando and Charles were bringing Daniel over and even texted you that they'd bring food.

Talking about food, that was another thing you were close to giving up on. You surely lost some weight in the past week, your appetite disappearing every time you sat down to eat.

Glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time, you stuck a smile on your face—something you did very often nowadays—and opened the door to greet the boys. You had heard them, specifically Lando's laugh which informed you they had arrived.

Daniel was in a wheelchair, due to the injuries from his torso down. He could walk, but barely. Although there were no serious fractures in his leg other than in his ankle.

Lando wheeled him inside, muttering something about him being too heavy which earned him a smack on his chest by the same man who he was making fun of. "Ow, mate you're supposed to be hurt, not hurting others."

"You don't count." He retorted which made Charles chuckle. He looked better now, or at least was better than before.

You and Charles had conversed over text, talking about all the things that you two were afraid to tell anyone else. Like the fact that you both had trouble sleeping, and when you did, you had nightmares. Charles had experienced loss before, but no matter how many times one could go through that, it doesn't make the next one any easier.

You were grateful for your friends, they had unknowingly made the days a little better. While they were over, time passed easily. For the first time, a conversation didn't mention Pierre. It wasn't because you had already forgotten about him, far from it, but it felt okay not needing to mention him. It was a weird feeling, one that would take time getting used to, but that's what you needed. Time.

Soon, Lando and Charles were leaving. Now it was only you and Daniel in the apartment. You stood to clean up but Daniel grasped your wrist to stop you.

"Can we talk please?" And just like that, the mood switched and it was like you were taken back to reality. You nodded and sat back down, eye level with him.

"I want to apologize, and it's okay if you don't believe me but I need to get this off my chest. It was not intentional at all. I didn't think that was going to happen. I am so sorry for everything." He managed to say without tears spilling down his cheeks.

If he told you this a week ago, you might've lashed out on him. But now, you had thought it through and as easy it would've been to blame someone or something, you knew it wasn't right. "Daniel, why wouldn't I believe you?" You held his hand. "Pierre was everything to you, heck, you were everything to him. And I took that away. I still don't understand why you care about me, or even talk to me."

"Listen, I was there. I saw it all. And even though I desperately wish that he was here right now, I would never blame you for it. It is not your fault. And I still care about you because you're my friend, okay? We're still friends right?" You asked him.

He nodded, still hanging his head low, not meeting your eyes. "Daniel, look at me." You placed your fingers underneath his chin and lifted his head. "This is not your fault." He nodded, trying to convince himself. He let out a sigh of relief when you hugged him, not remembering the last time you did.

Weeks went by, and it was safe to say that with Daniel around, it was a little bit easier to live with the constant ache in your heart. Things were better between you two. Although he still thought twice before saying anything to you, he tried his best to be himself.

While things were beginning to look better, there were still many days that weren't good at all. Daniel had witnessed a few outbursts of cries when you found something around the house that reminded you of a specific memory of Pierre. But instead of backing away because he thought he would make it worse, he comforted you.

There were many nights spent with you crying your heart out to him. Some days, he even joined you.

In terms of his own journey towards healing, he didn't need the wheelchair at all. Though he still limped while walking due to the cast on his foot.

You thought that getting a concussion would set his mind straight, but he was still the stubborn Danny you knew very well.

His bruises lightened, almost fading away. You took him to his mandatory doctor's appointments even though he tried convincing you that he didn't need to go. On those days, you quite literally pulled him out of bed. From those mandatory appointments, you learned that he could get rid of the plaster on his arm and replace it with a brace instead, making it slightly easier to move with less weight on his injured arm.

Daniel insisted on helping you make dinner one day. Although he wasn't a chef, he was still a good helper. Until he wasn't. You had given him the simple task of cutting up vegetables.

Making a pained sound, he moved away from the kitchen counter, clutching his hand. You stopped what you were doing immediately, "what happened?"

He showed you his hand, a cut across two fingers. Though it looked small so you chuckled. "Are you laughing at me?" He glared at you.

"Well it's pretty small compared to how you're reacting." You shrugged.

"It hurts." He retorted. "Alright you big baby, let me make it all better." You said in a joking tone which made Daniel huff.

You seated him down then brought the first aid kit. He was looking at you while you were focusing on his little injury. Disinfecting it then putting a bandage on it, you looked at him, surprised when you noticed that he was already looking at you.

About to walk away, he called out your name. "If you're going to treat me like a child, you forgot to do one thing." He brought his injured fingers up. You shook your head with a smile on your face. Holding his hand, you kissed his bandage covered wound. "There, all better now." You teased.

You went back to making dinner, this time without Daniel as you instructed him to rest for a little while.

The next day, you woke up with a lot of energy despite the few hours of sleep you had gotten. This energy led you to properly clean up your apartment.

You had tried to keep it clean at most times, especially since Daniel was staying over and you didn't want him to see how much of a mess you truly were. He also helped by cleaning up after himself and you if need be.

But he was surprised when you told him that you'll sort through Pierre's stuff today. This was a big step forward for you.

You started with the trophies on the shelf, cleaning them before putting it in a box. You were definitely keeping them, not having the guts to get rid of the proof of his achievements, but you didn't want them collecting dust.

Pierre used to look at them before he left for the race weekend. He told you that it was motivating, knowing that he's achieved this level of success before which meant that he was capable of it again.

After that, you moved to the bedroom. Ever since that day you fell asleep with Pierre's hoodie in your grasp, you had kept that habit. While it may not be the best coping strategy especially for moving on, it was comforting. It was like you could feel Pierre's presence right next to you.

Sorting through his clothes, you were hit by memories of the days he wore those clothes. Some days he chose to wear his merch, while other days you'd pick an outfit for him. You remembered how he used to love it when you wore his clothes, even if they looked bigger on you.

And you loved wearing them, because it smelt just like him. A scent you grew to love over the past years. Making a quick decision without thinking twice, you took off your shirt and put one of his hoodies on, inhaling deeply.

One by one, you removed all his clothes from the closet placing them in boxes. Honestly, you had no idea what you'd do with it but you knew you can't keep them hanging up for so long either. Maybe you could ask Charles if he comes by.

Then you moved on to his jewelry. The day he died, he was wearing the crucifix chain. It was removed and given to you a few days later. You didn't know what to do with it. Same with his rings. The ring you were holding in the hospital was in your hand at the moment.

It was too big for you or else you could've worn it.

You checked the drawers just in case you missed anything, and you did. You gasped as soon as you saw it. A velvet box.

"No, no, no, please no." You muttered, as your hands shook while you reached out to grab it. It could've been something else. It didn't have to be what you were thinking it was. That's why you opened to check it.

There it was, a shiny engagement ring with a nice big diamond in the middle. You choked on your breath and tears started spilling out of your eyes.

You fell to your knees, accidentally knocking something else over but you could care less about that.

"I'm going to make you my wife one day" Pierre told you while he was completely drunk. You laughed, his French accent more prominent now. You were helping him get ready for bed after a fun night out. "Is that right? Did you buy a ring yet?" You asked, but he shook his head. "No."

"Are you ready to be stuck with me for the rest of your life?" You teased, not expecting to get a serious answer since he struggled to get his shirt off. You slapped his hands away and started undoing the buttons. "I've been ready, ma chérie. Mrs. Gasly, how does that sound?"

You pushed him on the bed, and he easily went. Straddling him, you kissed his cheek. "That sounds amazing, darling. Ask me when you're sober."

Daniel heard the commotion coming from your room and immediately rushed to find you. Well as best as he could which was a funny look since he was speed limping. You would've laughed if you saw him like that.

He saw you sat on the floor with something in your hand which he couldn't see until he came closer. "Oh my god." He muttered. He couldn't imagine the amount of pain you felt. Everything was going so well until it wasn't. Another reminder of what he took away from you.

He crouched down, touching your shoulder which seemed to bring you out of your thoughts. "He was- he was going to propose, Daniel." You hiccuped in between your cries.

"He told me that he couldn't wait to marry me but he didn't have the ring then." You told him while he held you against him. The warmth of his body slightly comforting.

You and Pierre were planning your life out, of what it would look like after his racing career. But now, that dream will never come true. It would just stay a dream. That realization hurt a lot more than it should've.

Moving away from Daniel, you picked up the phone. Calling the one other person who you assumed knew about this. "Char, did you know?" You asked as soon as he picked up.

"Know what? Are you okay, do you need me to come over?" He asked, worried. You shook your head not realizing he couldn't see you, "no Charles, did you know he was going to propose?"

There was a silence on the other end which made you sob. "I'm coming over." He stated and hung up.

You made eye contact with Daniel after tossing the phone somewhere. He didn't know what to do, awkwardly sitting there. It took you two seconds before you were back in his arms, crying on his shoulder.

Charles found you two like that, joining in on the hug. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, I didn't think you'd see it." He confessed after seeing the ring in your hand.

You pulled away, a smile on your face despite the tears. You laughed a bit, scaring the two men looking at you. "He really loved me that much huh?" You said out loud.

"He loved me so much that even after he left, it would be enough to last me a lifetime." You continued your thought while returning to sobs.

"I miss you baby, I miss you so much." You muttered to yourself as you covered your face with you hands.

From that day onward, you had finally processed the fact that he wasn't returning. Yes you missed him, his voice, his laugh, his everything but you accepted it, even though the hole in your heart was irreplaceable.

Instead of pushing away the grief because you didn't want to deal with it, didn't know how, you acknowledged your feelings. You were working on it, day by day.

You didn't wear the ring, nor did you get rid of it. It was a bittersweet proof of the fact that you could've had it all.

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violetszone · 9 months

Text

This Marriage Will Break You

Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: You had to arrange a marriage contract with Pierre to cover up his old relationship. He was still seeing his ex while you were madly in love with him and according to everyone you were the bad woman in this triangle.But when your breaking point came, Pierre noticed you.

a/n: I tried so hard to make it long, It's probably pretty ridiculous but that's about all I can do (not edited writing btw)

You had to marry Pierre to cover up his past relationship, you didn't know why they chose you, you just wanted to believe it was because you were so good at acting. Your acquaintance with Pierre was based on your childhood, in fact, you grew up in the same environment as him and you liked him all your life, actually this arranged marriage made you happy at first.

But as time went on, you saw that this marriage was actually the opposite of what you expected, a kind of marriage that will upset you.Of course, you didn't have very high expectations, but you didn't expect that Pierre would still secretly meet with his ex, that you would still bury your love for him in your heart and that the fans would blame you for the separation of the two of them.

According to Pierre's fans, you were the bad woman, but no one saw what was going on inside the house and what happened was not very heartwarming. You were under pressure from your family because your relationship was not realistic, and Pierre almost never came home, when he came, he only went to his room and slept, the company said that you should try harder, and your relationship with the fans was not very good, when they saw you, they either looked at you badly or simply ignored you. Pierre, on the other hand, was enjoying his life with his ex.

Within a few months you had collapsed physically and mentally from the pressures on you, but it took a long time for Pierre, your family and the company to realize that. You were trying to take care of the house as much as you could, and one day, while cleaning in the morning, you accidentally broke a frame and that was your breaking moment. You didn't know that Pierre was at home, you sat in front of the frame and you started to cry, you didn't know why he was crying, you were just too full and you couldn't stand it, you tried to shut yourself up with a sigh, but you couldn't stop. Then the door in front of you opened and Pierre came out of his room, you tried to shut yourself up by pressing your lips together, but it didn't work. Pierre felt a pain in his heart when he saw you, he had never seen you like this and he was just realizing how much weight you had lost in a few months, he came and hugged you.

You didn't want this, you didn't want him to pity you, you tried to get rid of his arms, but you couldn't afford it and continued to cry, he hugged you and stroked your hair until you calmed down, and when he finally asked "Are you okay Y/N", you just shook your head and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You needed his attention before, not now, as soon as he broke the hug, you stood up and brought the vacuum cleaner to clean the floor. Pierre was watching you sadly, forcibly took the broom from your hand and stopped it "Stop doing that please" you looked at him angrily "What, did you think I'm in this house now? I'm sorry I won't make a noise again. You can go on with your life as if I'm not there" as you reached for the machine he pulled back and he grabbed you and walked you to the sofa he made you sit down "Do you realize what you've become Y/N? what's going on with you"

"Why are you interested right now, why are you here right now, it's 11 o'clock, don't you have to have breakfast with your girlfriend?" Pierre turned for a moment and looked at the clock and that was enough for you. You stood up angrily Pierre pressed your shoulders and made you sit down again."Y/N I'm sorry I know this marriage wasn't quite what we both expected but,pff whatever, I'm just sorry I didn't realize you were getting into this, okay now wait a minute" Pierre pulled out his phone and called the company. He told them that he had been secretly seeing his ex for months, how he neglected you, how you had become because of the pressure they put on you, he told them that he would take care of you from now on and that it was his responsibility and not to disturb you.

It surprised you that he was so interested in you, but you still didn't expect much from him.You said, "Is it over? Thanks for your help" and got up from the couch and he grabbed you by the arm as you passed him. "Get ready we're going out" you were surprised "You have to go to a party? I have to dress accordingly, you know then they talk badly about me" Pierre sighed "No, I'm taking you out to dinner, I'm going to spend time with my wife" normally you were always kind to him because you didn't have a problem with him,and you loved him but now you were tired.

"Pierre you don't have to take care of me, I'm really fine you can go about your business I have to clean the floor okay" he didn't stop you when you stood up but called after you "No you're not okay this is not the confident strong and happy woman I married and I want that woman back so I will clean the floor and you're going to come to dinner with me wearing whatever you want, okay?" You knew it wouldn't do any good to oppose him, so you just nodded at him.

On your way to your room to change, you heard the sound of the machine and smiled a little.You were ready in 1 hour, you were dressed comfortably but stylishly you left your room looking for your lipstick in your bag Pierre was sitting on the sofa waiting for you he said "you look beautiful" you looked at him he was smiling and he said sincerely you thanked him and smiled.

While you were spending time together in the restaurant, you realized that he was interested in you for real. You were better than in the morning, you felt happier, you thought you would go home after you finished your meal and got up, but Pierre took you to the beach You were surprised that he was holding your hand. "Oh right, there are people," you said to yourself, but Pierre was holding your hand because he wanted to. You sat on the dock "Thanks for the food Pierre, I'm feeling better" nodded and smiled, it was a pleasant moment. then his phone rang of course his girlfriend was calling but Pierre didn't pick up his phone.

After that day, your life started to progress like a normal marriage for a long time, you were cooking together, cleaning the house, going out and getting to know each other.One night, Pierre said that you were going to attend an important event, you both got ready in a stylish way, holding hands and got into the car. Pierre looked a little nervous you took his hand to comfort him he smiled an kissed the top of you hand.

When you arrived at the place of the invitation, Pierre opened the door for you to get off and took his hand, you went in hand in hand again, of course, because it was a famous invitation, the press was there and everyone went crazy when they saw both of you.Pierre looked at you to make sure you were comfortable. You looked at him and smiled, after a few poses, you walked in, met and talked to the invitees. While you were chatting with someone, Pierre was only watching you, he was looking at you as if he was in love with you.

You had a lot of fun at the party with Pierre, you laughed, you danced, until the person who will spoil your taste approaches you with anger, Pierre's ex-girlfriend.You were laughing again at a joke Pierre made when someone came and grabbed you by the arm, and when you looked, you saw that it was him, of course Pierre immediately freed your arm from his hand and pulled you to him, "What do you think you're doing?" he asked angrily. "Pierre, do you realize how long you haven't been answering my calls and it's only because of this little bug" Pierre raised your hand with the ring on your finger and his own, and showed the girl, "If you remember, I'm married and it's been a long time since I finished this with you, did you hear me now, go away, and don't ever come near my wife again"

You were in shock and everyone was watching you as she walked away angrily Pierre turned to you and looked at your red arm. "Are you okay, did she hurt you a lot?" you nodded as if to say i'm fine "Pierre everyone is watching us can we go home" He looked around nervously, but when he turned to you, his gaze softened.He stroked your cheek with one hand then took your hand and took you out of there.

In the car, neither of you spoke at all, but it was clear how angry Pierre was, which frightened you a little.When he suddenly stopped the car and turned to you, you almost banged your head forward due to the sudden brake and your eyes widened in fear, "I'm sorry Y/N. But I have to say this, I won't let that woman come near us again okay won't spoil your mood" You nodded, but you couldn't believe what had actually happened."you were serious when you were angry with her ,you don't see her anymore" he just nodded.

"I haven't seen her since the day I promised to protect you.I should have done this sooner though" you smiled at him "Thank you" he looked at you "For what?" you watched him for a while "For being with me, by my side" He reached out and took you hand "Of course we're married after all and I have to take good care of my wife, and it wouldn't be right for me to know that my wife is madly in love with me and make her suffer like that"

Surprised, you pulled your hand back "You knew" Pierre laughed "Of course I knew Y/N, imagine if anyone else had gone through what you went through, they would have divorced me on the second day" what he said was right the reason you put up with him was because you fell in love with him.Pierre approached and took both of your hands, "I apologize to you with all my heart, will you let me love you as you love me" you nodded happily.

In the months that followed, everything became more beautiful than you had imagined. You had a real marriage with Pierre. You both loved each other very much. As Pierre promised you, you never saw that woman again.After the fans learned the truth about Pierre's ex, they started to treat you more kindly. You had the comfort of walking hand in hand in the paddock with Pierre.You two were happy.

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

@gaslysainz

527 notes · View notes

f1letters · 1 year

Text

you're on your own, kid | pg10

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

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

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

pairing: pierre gasly x reader

word count: 4.1k

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

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

masterlist

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

I play it cool with the best of them

I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me

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

Anyway

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it hurt. It hurt too much.

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

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

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

I touch my phone as if it's your face

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

There's just one who could make me stay

All my days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

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

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

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

Finally, things were going to change.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I see the great escape, so long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed, writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

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

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

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

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

Y/N had never chosen that town.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

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

"I have to go, Charles."

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

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

You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this

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

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

Pierre knew now that he had acted wrongly with her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

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itsgxsly · 1 year

Text

back to you | part 1

Pairing: pierre gasly x reader

Summary: You didn't think you could hate the same man you loved. But Pierre had achieved just that, and now he has to do whatever it takes to make you forgive him, and maybe to make you fall in love again.

word count: 1,2k

warnings: smut

Everyone says that time heals everything. Time makes us forget. It makes us forget the grudge, the pain, the bad memories. Sometimes even people.

Unfortunately that had not been your case.

You did not know at what point in your life you had fallen in love with Pierre Gasly. It could have been one of those many times you'd seen him when you accompanied your brother to the Paddock, or maybe it was when you'd met by chance over the holidays and he'd greeted you with that brilliant smile. The same smile that you hated now, or at least that's what you always told yourself.

Pierre had always been polite to you. You were Carlos's little sister, one of his friends in Formula 1, so he had always been nice to you, even flirting with you on occasion, but without giving any sign that he felt anything beyond a formal relationship. Pierre was not a man of long-term relationships, and you were already well aware of that fact. You knew from your brother and some of the rumors going around the Paddock how his other relationships had ended. Maybe that should have been your first warning so you didn't get carried away that night long ago. Maybe you should have listened to your subconscious and walked away from it.

It's not like you planned for one second to end up the way you did that day.

It was common that during the summer break some drivers met sometimes outside of the constant competitions that Formula 1 brought. That Saturday had been one of those meetings, and in the end you had all ended up in a club in Monaco, where most of them lived, dancing and enjoying the night until the wee hours. You weren't usually a big fan of alcohol, so you were only minimally dizzy. From your place at the bar you could see Charles dancing strangely and you guessed that he already had more drinks than he could count. You couldn't see your brother, but you assumed he was talking to Lando somewhere. You could also see some of the guys' girlfriends chatting or dancing on the floor.

Distracted by keeping your eyes attentive to others, you didn't notice Pierre approaching you from behind until you noticed two hands placed on your shoulders. Startled by the sudden movement, you turned around, letting out a sigh of calm when you saw who it was.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you” while Pierre was apologizing you noticed how he slurred his words a bit and you smelled the alcohol in his. It seemed that he was enjoying his night.

You allowed yourself a few seconds to get a good look at him. From his hair a little shiny with sweat to his chest, covered by a white linen shirt that he wore partly open, revealing his chest hair and his chain with a cross. You turned your gaze back to his face and realized that maybe you had taken more time than you should watching him, because he was already looking at you with a smirk.

"Have you seen anything you like?" He asked you slightly tilting his head and getting a little closer to you.

You couldn't answer him, too distracted by his closeness. Pierre had never behaved this forward with you, but you blamed the alcohol in his body for making you blush like that.

“Is there a problem, chérie?” His voice was almost a whisper now because of how close he was to you. You hoped he couldn't tell how fast your heart was beating.

“Pierre…” You wanted it to sound like a warning, but it had to sound more like a plea from the way he looked at you.

"Tell me, chérie" his tone of voice was playful. He got closer to you if possible, caressing your waist with his hand lightly.

"Pierre, you're drunk" you reminded him in an attempt to get him to get away from him, but you didn't make any attempt of your own to get away from him either.

"I'm not that drunk. I know perfectly well what I'm doing” his words sounded self-confident and unfortunately for you, you believed him completely.

You should have thought better at the time. But when Pierre looked at you like that, you didn't hesitate for a moment to grab his hand and let him take you to the hotel where he was staying. You didn't think of any consequences along the way, too focused on his hand circling your thigh, close to where you needed it most.

You didn't think of anything when you arrived at his hotel room and Pierre guided you to bed between heated kisses, a fight of tongues and teeth while you undressed.

Pierre pushed you on the bed and you let yourself be controlled by him.

"Lie down, ange" was a simple command.

Once in bed his hands were all over your body. Your waist, your chest, your hair. Your hands went straight to his muscular back and then caressed his abdomen. He bit your bottom lip lightly and you let out a soft moan.

Pierre stopped kissing you and took off your underwear, you didn't have time to complain because he had stopped kissing you before he started leaving a trail of kisses down your chest and down to your stomach. Just with that he already had you completely wet. He lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders, making you tense as he moved closer to your center.

You knew you weren't going to last long the moment you felt his tongue on you. Pierre didn't take long to find the rhythm that made your head spin with pleasure. His tongue worked at that rate without leaving a single spot unattended as his nose brushed against your clit. It didn't take long for you to feel that heat in your stomach and reach what you could have considered one of the best orgasms of your life.

Pierre looked at you from his position between your legs, your breath quickened and your face satisfied. He moved closer to you again and kissed you, letting you taste your own taste on his lips.

"Pierre" you begged his name, wanting even more of him.

"Tell me what you want"

“Fuck me.” You didn't know where that sudden confidence had come from, but you were desperate.

And he did it just as you asked. Pierre knew full well what he was doing. He knew how to bring every orgasm out of you and leave you shaking by the time he's done with you. You prayed that someone from the hotel wouldn't complain about the noise.

You didn't even move from the bed when you finished, both of you too tired from the hectic night. Pierre hugged you from behind and you let yourself fall into his warmth.

You felt like in a dream, in the arms of the man you could even say you had fallen in love with a long time ago.

But dreams are not always reality, and you verified it that same morning when you woke up.

Pierre was not there with you.

You thought that he could be in the bathroom or that he had gone out to train, but despite the fact that you waited for him for a while, he did not return. Neither he nor he returned your calls when you called him. Neither he nor he answered any messages. You went home embarrassed, angry and heartbroken.

Pierre was gone and it was clear that he wanted nothing to do with you.

author note: I had this fic waved for a while and now it's real. I don't know how many parts it will have, but I'm excited that it's my first complete story. And as Pierre's girl, my first fic had to be about him. Don't judge me too much for the smut, it's my first time writing it🫶🏻

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formulalfc · 6 months

Text

an-hope you like this <3

The Other Side of the Door

Pierre Gasly x Reader

tw-cheating, angsty, mentions of sex

You had met Pierre on an night out in France, you and your friends had been letting your hair down over the Christmas holidays and thought a trip to France was just what you guys needed to destress from the hard months of what felt like endless work at university.

You had been single for a while and were secretly longing for a relationship and as thought he was an answer to your prayers Pierre had walked into your life and turned your world on its axis.

You had gotten each other’s numbers when you met in the club, him inviting you and your friends into the VIP section with him and a few guys he was with, you of course had known who he was having followed formula one your whole life and so you both talked in depth about his career and many other things you were both passionate about.

The day after you had received a message from Pierre and that night you both went on a date, he had arranged a dinner on top of the Eiffel tower for you both, and that one date lead to another which lead to some very fun nights in hotel rooms which lead to you both falling so deeply in love with each other that everyone around you was envious of how committed to each other you were.

You had taken some time of work to follow him around the globe, you spent the off season with each other, basking in the small, uninterrupted time you guys got together before the season started again.

You were so consumed with Pierre that you didn’t really notice when things started to change.

Having taken so much time off during the last season, unless you quit you had to go back to work, and so you did. And you and Pierre adapted, facetimes, messaging, sending pictures to each other of whatever you were doing. It didn’t really seem to you like anything had changed apart from the distance between you.

And maybe you had been naïve, too trusting. After all you hadn’t really been in a serious committed relationship before, and you were still new to this.

But while you were young and naïve, you weren’t stupid.

You had shown up to the British GP, it was your home race and you had told Pierre you couldn’t make it and decided to surprise him instead.

But it wasn’t really a surprise in your eyes, it was a test.

When you had been travelling with the team you had made friends with a lot of the staff especially a few of the girls that helped with some of the media.

And to your utter devastation, they had told you that they had seen a girl leaving Pierre’s room more than once over the course of the last few weeks.

And you were here to catch the cheating son of a bitch out.

One of the girls, Lily, met you at the back gate and let you through into the teams motorhome. A few other members of the team greeted you and welcomed you back with open arms and smiles, obviously unaware as to what your boyfriend had been up to the last few weeks.

Once everyone had scattered again, you gave Lily a squeeze on the hand and took a deep breath in before walking up the stairs towards the small room you knew was Pierre’s to get ready in.

As you were walking towards the room, Esteban was coming out of his. He looked up at you catching your eye a look of such pity on his face as if he knew exactly what you came here to do.

He opened his arms and you didn’t hesitate to launch yourself into him. You had always loved Esteban much to Pierre’s dismay, you found the man funny and he always fascinated you with the way he told you his stories.

“Oh sweetheart…”, he murmured against your forehead, letting you know without having to say anything, exactly what his opinion was on your current boyfriend.

You pulled away with a deep breath wiping your eyes as you grounded yourself. You gave Esteban a nod of your head and a small smile, he kissed the crown of your head before making his way down the stairs of the motorhome.

You turned back towards the door.

You fucking hated that door.

You hated that door because you knew as soon as you opened it your heart was going to be in pieces and your life would be miserable for quite a while.

But you couldn’t let yourself hang on to this relationship that obviously didn’t mean anything to him if he was so willing to throw it all away for this girl.

It was now or never.

Your brave face was on.

You stalked towards the door, your hand twisting the knob before you could even hesitate for one more minute.

And absolutely nothing you had done prior could prepare you for the way your world crashed and stopped as you opened that door.

That stupid fucking door.

You could hear your heart shatter as your eyes laid on the bare torso of your boyfriend, some dark haired beaty riding him as you looked on.

She was beautiful. Everything you weren’t, and you think that might have been what hurt you most.

As if he noticed they were no longer alone his eyes snapped open on locked onto yours.

You watched as he scrambled to get the girl off him, already a pleading look in his eyes as he pulled his pants back up his legs.

The girl covering herself up with one of the blankets you and him used to cuddle up under after you had both fucked all Pierre’s pent up frustration from practise and qualifying and your faced twisted as you watched.

Your gaze quickly snapped back to the man who was approaching you but before he could reach you, before he could so much as touch a hair on your head, you put a hand out.

A warning.

You looked him In the eye, wanting him to see the pain and the heartbreak he had caused you before you spoke.

“I’m not here to fight. I’m not even here to listen to you attempt to come up with some half hearted apology as to why you were fucking someone else. Because there is nothing, absolutely nothing you could say to me, to make me ever think about forgiving you for tearing apart the relationship I nearly gave everything up for. To think I wanted to marry you, have a fucking child with you and while I was at home thinking about our future, you were here throwing it all away.” You scoffed, shaking your head as you looked at him. “You’re a selfish man Pierre, horribly fucking selfish. And one day, trust me, it will catch up with you. And you know what? I pity you. I pity you, because you know what Pierre? I’m going to walk out of here, and yeah this will take me some time to get over I’ll be heartbroken and cry to my friends and eat junk food for a few weeks, but I’ll find someone who appreciates me enough to never treat me like this. Who values me enough as a person to never even think of pulling something like you have. But you? When I walk out of here, you will have just lost the best thing that has ever happened to you. So, I fucking pity you.”

You turned towards the girl on the couch who seemed to be weirdly interested in the pattern on the rug, “and you. I’m sure you’re a lovely girl so let this right here be your warning, because this man will never ever change. He didn’t for the girl before me, he certainly didn’t for me and he won’t for you. Get out of this before he rips your heart out too.”

And with that you spun round and slammed the door shut behind you.

That stupid fucking door.

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neverinadream · 2 years

Text

I'm Tired Of Leaving

Summary: Fate was determined to keep the two of you a part, so you've always settled for a part of him. What do you do now that he wants to have all of you?

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope - another self indulgent fic, I am so sorry to anyone who does send in request, I will write them

Song Inspo: Take On The World - You Me At Six

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut to angsty fluff, fwb!pierre, fwb to lovers, dom!pierre, sub!reader, pet names (baby, good girl, chérie...), praise kink, protected sex, hair pulling, choking, spitting, pierre's favourite position, some body worshiping, smoking, not proofread

Notes: the flow is a little clunky with this one but oh well. feedback is appreciated, it helps me a lot

He leans into your ear, hot breath fanning your face, a strangled gasp leaving your lips as you feel him pulling on your hair. "I missed this, chérie," he moans, deep, grizzly groans falling into your ear each time he pushes his cock back inside.

His grip tightens, pulling until you neck was craned back, your body was arched away from the mattress, and the back of your head resting against the centre of his chest, your eyes staring up into his. Something about the way he towered over you made you feel small but had your pussy clenching around him. "Open your mouth," he grins as your eager go to please, your lips parting, the corners curving as you grin in anticipation, "good girl."

You moan, feeling his spit hitting your tongue and closing your mouth to swallow it before he has a chance to tell you. "You're pure filth, Pierre," you bite your bottom lip, despite loving that about him.

"And what does that make you, huh?" He released your hair, making a comment in French under his breath, his hand now finding place around your neck. The laugh that leaves his lips is dark and silky as you squeeze around him. "Remember that thing you did for me the last time we were together?" He asks you, slowing down to hold off the inevitable of another encounter between you ending. "I think some would argue that to be just as filthy."

Your fingers weave through his messy hair, your hand reaching behind to touch him as he presses his lips to your neck, kissing the spot just behind your ear. "I remember," you respond, pushing your hips back to meet each of his.

"I think it was your best work yet," he mumbles, sliding his hand away from your neck and down the front of your body. The tips of his fingers ghost over your breasts and down your stomach, stopping once his hand was between your legs. You can't see it, but you feel his smile pressing into your neck as he listens to the sharp gasp leaving your lips as he rubs two fingers against your clit.

"I looked at them the other night," he confesses to you, his free hand creeping back around your neck, keeping your body pressed against his, "thought about that night - thought about you - as I stroked my cock; thought about you laid on this bed, your lips swollen and your lipstick all smudged, my hickies all over your chest, your legs spread out for me to see this perfect pussy, all aching and glistening for me-" He takes a second to steady his breath, mumbling something in his native tongue, as he tries to calm himself, his imagination getting the better of him. "You looked so fucking beautiful for me that night!"

"You were the artist that night," your cheeks are red hot from his omission, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach and the whooshiness in your head hard to deny, "I was just the canvas."

"The perfect canvas," he praises your body, groaning as your pussy clenches around him.

Your hand cradles the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck, as his forehead presses into your shoulder, shallow breaths hitting the top of your back. For a few seconds, all that can be heard is just the two of you breathing heavily, a whimper and a moan heard coming from your own lips as the muscles grow tighter in your stomach.

"Pierre," you whimper his name, digging your nails into neck, the pressure becoming unbearable as it builds up, "I-so close-"

"Gonna cum for me like you did that night?" He asks, kissing your shoulder and your neck. "Gonna do it again for me?"

You nod your head, swallowing down a moan.

"Good," he mumbles, half-chuckling under his breath, almost relieved even, "because I don't think I could hold it any longer."

Neither of you say another word, him letting your body collapse softly onto the mattress, your face buried in the pillow, as his hands hold onto your hips. From behind, he leans back to watch his hard cock being swallowed up by your cunt as he thrusts into you, which had become sloppier the closer he was to finishing.

You own face, though hidden in the soft cushion of the pillow, shows off your pleasure, your expression bliss-like, as your orgasm rings in your ears and pulsates around your body. The tight spasms of your body clenching tightly has Pierre finishing inside the condom, half strangled gasps for air filling your bedroom as he reaches for the headboard, trying not to collapse on top of you.

"Those will kill you one day," Pierre finds you later at your window, the hatch pushed open so you could sit on the fire escape. At your feet was an astray, a previous failed sculpture of yours you had made years ago, and a cigarette hung loose between your fingers. You mumble something about only having one life, before taking a drag of the cigarette and blowing the smoke away from you. "Move," he mutters, wanting to sit with you.

You stub what was left of your cigarette out in the centre of the ashtray, nudging the faded green ceramic away with your foot, before shuffling across the window ledge to give him some space. "Better?" He hums, touching the soft of your hip hidden beneath his shirt as you lean into him. "You smell like you just had nasty sex," you joke, attempting to hold off the inevitable that would be him leaving.

His laugh rings in your ears, caught off by surprise. "What a coincidence because so do you," he joins in on the joke, "I hope they were worth it."

"Meh," you make a sound, shrugging your shoulders, suddenly gasping as he tickles your sides, "I've had better."

He kisses your shoulder, mumbling something in French under his breath that you were sure was probably something along the lines of no one does it better than me. "I get why you like this city so much," he kisses your shoulder again, turning his head to look out of the window, "it's beautiful at night." Your apartment wasn't in the heart of the city but it was close enough to get a nice view of the city lights at night.

"It's beautiful in the daytime too," you throw back, picking at loose thread, "not that you would know." It was almost a tradition at this point that he would fly in, unannounced for the most part, spend the night and leave before you've woken up. It was a rinse and repeat cycle that happened every few weeks. And...you were fine with that.

At least now you were.

"And you can show me just how beautiful it is when we wake up in the morning," he replies, earning himself a expression of bewilderment as you adjust yourself to face him, tucking one leg under the other. His hand touches your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "You heard me," he mumbles, answering an unspoken question that hung in your eyes, "I'm not leaving this time."

"You're not?" He shakes his head, your stomach feeling full with butterflies as you take in his soft features. "Why?"

"'Cause i'm tired of leaving," his fingers are still touching your cheek, his thumb against the corner of your mouth as it curves with a smile, "I'm done waiting for there to be a right time for us; why can't I just love all of you now?"

You shrug your shoulders, "because Fate and her dear friend Love are cruel, heartless bastards."

His hands cradle your face as he comes closer, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes gazing down at yours. "What do you say?" He whispers so only you can hear him, for fear Fate herself could hear you both. "Care to take on Fate with me?"

"Depends," you hum, "what's your weapon of choice?"

He frowns. "My weapon-?"

"Yes," you stress, giggling at confusion, "fate is one tricky bastard. You're going to need a good weapon if you want to defeat her." Quickly sensing your scarcasm, he rolls his eyes, shaking his head and half-smiles at you. "I was thinking-"

"-stop thinking and kiss me," he interrupts you, drawing you in closer. The rest of your thoughts are swallowed up by his mouth, the softness of his lips making you melt in his hands. "I think our love will be stronger than any weapon you can think of," he murmurs against your lips, kissing you once more.

You pull away, scrunching your face up. "Oh, you mushy bastard."

"Only for you."

F1 Taglist: @enjoymyloves

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x yn #formula one imagine #formula one smut #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut

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charlesslut16 · 8 months

Note

Hey can you please do Pierre gasly x innocent reader, she’s like innocent and quite naive making him really protective and possessive over her ? Could he also be obsessed with her so maybe abit dark ? Also if your comfortable with it

-moonstruck-

summary : moonstruck : unable to think or act normally, especially because of being in love. You were moonstruck by pierre gasly.

PAIRING : pierre gasly x fem!innocent!reader

WARNINGS : ANGST, possessive behavior, obsessive pierre, dark pierre, toxic relationship, hand collar, fluff

note : wrote thi post because pierre is on the podium!!!! Thrid place is absolutly awesome!! SO PROUD OF HIM. And i hope that you like this fic!

masterlist

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Since you were a teenage, you had been the innocent friend in your friend group. If there had been a sexual joke, you didn't understand it at first, or you needed someone to explain it.

And ever since you were a little girl, you had been naive. For example, you forgave your ex even after he had cheated on you because you thought that he had changed. Which he had not.

And this continued on until now. Being a grown 25-year-old woman with a 27-year-old boyfriend. Your boyfriend could not understand how you could be so innocent and naive.

But pierre gasly also loved it. He could protect you from any danger and feel like the hero. He was obsessed with protecting you. Well, he was obsessed with you. Possessive even.

Not the good obsessing, the possessive one. He was trying to keep your attention on him, but it will get priority if he felt like his grasp over your interests was slipping too far. As long as you were still interested in him.

But if he started to feel threatened, like, replaced, then he got a lot more… aggressive isn’t the right word. Possessive. He made sure that he does not leave your mind for too long. He makes sure he’s just… there.

Your friends saw that behavior and told you multiple times, but you ignored them, too in love with pierre. He had always told you that they were bad people who wanted to take you away from him. And you believed him. Every time.

Every time you believed him and lost more friends. Every and each time. Pierre made you feel so loved that you didn't even realize how many good people left you.

He had protected you in clubs, against family and friends, against every bad person. And that made you feel so loved. When you were with him, you were another person.

For example, one day you came home from one of your meeting with your friends. Pierre was standing in the kitchen, as you came into the house, pouting and being in your thoughts.

Pierre noticed the second you came in that you were not okay. So he took you into his arms and then sat down on a chair with you in his lap. Stroking your arms and assuring you that he was there for you.

“What's wrong, mon amour?”

“My friends told me that I should break up with you because you are possessive with me and that I should just find another man. And I just said that I love you and that you are just protecting me.”

As he heard those words, his jaw tightened and locked. The fact that you were still staying with him, made him smile. He had you wrapped around his fingers. You were his girlfriend! His.

“Look, baby, I told you that they would want to steal you away from me. You need to distance yourself from them, they are bad for you. The only person that you need is me, you know that, right?”

“I know, pierre, I can't understand how I could believe them over you.”

“You're mine. Yes? There will never be another man besides me.” He asked, biting your neck, making you squirm and whine as Pierre pulls away, licking the bite mark.

“Yes, I'm yours.” You assured him, hands tangling in his curly hair as he hugged you tighter to him and kissing up your collarbone and neck up to your ear and cheek until he kissed your lips.

Another time was when you were with your friends, talking about your boyfriends until one of your friends warned you about pierre and you being annoyed.

“How can you be so naive!? Pierre may love you, but he only wants you for himself until you have no one else than him. He is obsessed with you, in another way than good.”

Your other friends agreed, but you just rolled your eyes. What they said was total bullshit. Pierre loved and protected you from bad people who wanted to bad things to you.

The other time was that pierre couldn't reach you and panicked.

“Y/n?” He called into your shared house, and when he didn't receive a reply, he bolted into your bedroom. He froze seeing you on the bed holding a coffee mug.

“Ma magnifique fille. Why didn't you answer my calls?” He snapped loudly, caught your attention as you smiled up at him, while taking a sip from your coffee mug. My gorgeous girl

“I'm sorry, Pierre, I was listening to some music. Didn't even hear your calls.” Pierre ran his hand through his hair and sat next to you on the bed. He was settled after he yanked you into his lap.

“You should answer me when I call for you, princess.” You just nodded and leaned back into his chest, relaxed into his warm hands running over your body.

“Why are you being so protective?” Pierre's hands stopped abrupt, trying to think of how to answer your question. Leaning forward, he kissed the back of your neck, wrapped around the front and turned you to look at him.

“You're mine. My girlfriend. I'm protective of what belongs to me. I'm protective because the thought of someone taking you or leaving me drives me crazy. All I do is for you. For your safety.” He whispered each sentence, he moved closer till you were mouth-to-mouth.

“Are you mine?”

“Mhm.” You whined, grounded your hips down to get some pressure, but you got none.

“Words, Y/n. I want to hear you say it.” Pierre growled, hand tightening on your throat.

“I'm yours, Pierre. I'll always be yours.” You gasp, feeling dizzy from the grip on your throat. Pierre was always careful when it came to holding your throat and where. He never wanted to hurt you and learned how to do this safely and how to give you pleasure from it.

So to say this, pierre is very possessive of you and obsessed with you.

#f1 #formula one #f1 fluff #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #pierre gasly f1 #f1 angst #dutch gp 2023 #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly drabble #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you

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sunny44 · 11 months

Text

Can I have your eyes?

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

Warnings:

Summary: Y/n love Pierre’s blue eyes so she ask him if she can get them.

Beautiful.

His eyes were beautiful and I would give anything to have them.

Pierre and I met because of Charles, when I was in Monaco I went to a coffee shop to get a coffee because I was late for my first day of work and as I was leaving Charles came in and spilled all the coffee on my clothes and besides being late I was all dirty and nervous, so I started to cry and he got desperate and went with me to where I currently work to tell me that I would have to go home and get ready again because he had made a mess of me.

And because he is extremely famous here in Monaco the office staff was so shocked that he was there that they said I could start the next day so charles took me out for another coffee as an apology.

And that's how we became best friends.

And then when he took me to the Monaco GP as a VIP guest that's where I met Pierre for the first time.

And I remember that right away I fell in love with those bright blue ocean eyes and since then I have never been able not to fall in love with him.

The two of us flirt with each other all the time and for him it's just flirting but for me it was much more than just flirting, I fell more and more in love with him and I was willing to start avoiding him or else I would just end up with my heart broken in the end.

Charles insisted that I come to Monza with him and that didn't make my plans to avoid Pierre any easier but I couldn't say no to him so here I am walking into the paddock with Charles who wouldn't stop talking for a minute.

"So what's your problem?"

"What do you mean?"

"That you've been very quiet lately and I've had to insist more than usual that you come to see me, is that okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just not in the mood."

"You're always in the mood for races so stop lying to me and start talking.”

"I just don't want to see Pierre okay?" I admit to him and keep walking faster so he doesn't ask me anything but he catches up to me.

"And what did he do to you?"

"He made me fall in love with him." Charles widens his eyes. "Don't look at me like that okay? I know it's silly."

"Don't say that, your feelings are not silly." He hugs me. "Why don't you tell him that?"

"Because we both know how he is, Pierre doesn't get attached to anyone and at the same time when he says he likes a girl he either breaks up with her or just shows up with a completely different one."

"I really don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything because it's true, I just need to avoid him until the whole weekend is over and everything will be fine."

And I almost managed to do that until on Sunday he found me and I couldn't run or it would look too obvious that I was avoiding him.

"Oh my God where were you all weekend?" he smiles and hugs me tight kissing my forehead. "How are you?"

"Fine and you?"

"Better now that you're here." He flirts and I just smile. "Is everything really okay?"

"Yes, you know how exhausting race weekends are for me. I don't know how you guys manage to do it non-stop."

"Do you want to go out tonight? You and me?"

"Just the two of us?"

"Yes or is that a problem for you?"

"No it's not, we can go out for a drink."

"Great, I'll see you after the race."

He hurried off as the race was about to start and I went to the Ferrari garage, Charles made me kiss his forehead or rather his helmet and then he gets in the car.

It was a superstition of his that I didn't understand.

"Good luck and knock it out. I know you'll killed it." He smiles and leaves with the car going to the position on the grid that he was in.

It didn't go well on this chaotic and very crazy race.

Max, Charles, Sebastian and Kevin were out of the race and Pierre was in first place.

The race was at the end and my heart was in my mouth, when Pierre crossed the finish line I ran from inside the Ferrari garage and mixed in with the AlphaTauri guys and went to the fence where his car stopped in first place position.

My happiness for him was so big that I had forgotten that I was trying to avoid him.

He jumped out of the car and ran to the team where he threw himself on top of them and when he saw that I was there in the middle he came over to me and hugged me tight.

"I won." He says smiling.

"I know I saw it." I said smiling too and ran my hand down his face wiping some of the sweat from his eyes that were staring at me. "Your eyes are beautiful. Can I have them?"

"No." He says seriously but smiles soon after. "But our kids can."

"What?"

Just then he puts his hand on the back of my head and pulls me in gluing his lips to mine.

I could hear people shouting around us but I didn't care about them because the only thing that mattered at that moment was his lips on mine.

"You have to go to the podium and get your trophy.” I said softly to him because our foreheads were pressed against each other.

"I've already won the biggest trophy I could ever want.”

"That was sweet." He laughs. "Go get your trophy because I find it extremely sexy when you get soaked in champagne.”

"Good to know that, maybe when we're in my hotel room celebrating later I'll ask you to pour champagne on me.”

"If you behave well I can think about doing that."

"I'll better behave then." He gives me another kiss and runs to wait for the ceremony to begin.

And the only thing I could do was smile.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername post

Liked by @pierregasly, @yourbestie, @charlesleclerc and others 928379

Yourusername Congratulations on your first victory my love, I knew you were extremely capable of this and I am so happy that I was able to participate in this moment with you.

I love you forever 🩵

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softtdaisy · 1 year

Text

CHASING CARS - PIERRE GASLY

DESCRIPTION I Sometimes it take an accident to realize what you really want with the person you thought you weren’t in love with

PAIRING I Pierre Gasly × female!reader

WORDS COUNT I 2,2k

A/N I I wanted to write for Pierre, I wrote for Pierre. This might be super messy but I quite love it so I hope you will too 🥺

You hated everything about the situation.

The oppressing silence caused by the many departures from the teams and the public.

The missing noises caused normally by the cars, even when they weren’t racing.

The beatings of your heart being louder because of the stress.

This feeling of being part of a kind of post-apocalyptic disaster.

Knowing you were only a spectator of that whole scene.

°°°

Ever since you started seeing Pierre, you’ve tried to go to as many races as possible. You had a job that, thankfully, allowed you to travel and work from where you wanted to. So, it wasn’t hard for you to adapt your work schedule.

The fun part, if you could call that fun, was that it was harder to deal with Pierre than with your own job.

You didn’t have the easiest relationship. You weren’t even sure you could call this a relationship, technically. You met a few months ago, when one of your closest friends started working for Alpine and invited you to a Grand Prix. He knew you loved Formula One and he loved to tell people in the garage that you were the reason he even considered working here.

“So, we have to thank you for his amazing job?” you heard a voice in your back. You turned around and here he was. Standing here. With his messy hair, his arrogant and flirty smile and his tracksuit knotted around his waist. Pierre looked hot. You couldn’t lie about it. And he knew it.

“You know what they say,” you started, walking near Pierre to face him. “Behind every great man, there is a woman.”

From that moment, Pierre wanted you to be the great woman behind him.

It started with a night together, that same weekend. You were at the bar with the team to celebrate Pierre’s podium. You spend the evening dancing and laughing together, it wasn’t a surprise that you ended up in his bed. It felt like a victory for the both of you, both having a strong attraction for each other. You were the woman he wanted to have. He was the driver you wanted to get.

This is how it all begin. You were meeting you during race weekends and Pierre was coming to your place when he was free. It was a logical and comforting thing. You found peace in each other’s arms and moans. Feelings were not involved. No. Love was not involved. You appreciated Pierre a lot. You whished there was a word to describe someone between a good friend and a lover.

Because he was way more than a friend for you. But Pierre wasn’t your lover. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He was making sure you remember that.

Behind this perfect and paradisaic relationship was hiding the truth: you had more arguments than you should have. There wasn’t a weekend where you wouldn’t fight about anything. Most of the time, those fights would come out of jealousy. The way Pierre looked at the influencers and models invited to the race. How you would laugh with the mechanics to which the French driver would interpret as a flirt conversation. Or sometimes he would just let go his frustration of not qualifying high enough on you. “I’m not your stressed relief doll, Pierre.” You would remind him.

And today, he took it to heart.

You arrived in Australia with Pierre on Monday, so he had time to go to some events and do all the press stuff. As much as you were concerned, expect for the visit part, you spend most of your time in his hotel bedroom. There was always something quiet when you arrived early, like none of this situation was real. He wasn’t a famous driver, and you were just a normal couple enjoying their holidays.

Then the truth hit you hard. Really hard.

The qualification was terrible. Maybe it was the car, maybe it was something else, but it didn’t matter. Cause in the end, the conclusion was still the same: Pierre was eliminated in Q1. And he was angry about that result. He didn’t talk to anybody in the garage and avoided you for the rest of the afternoon.

Innocently, you thought it wouldn’t change your plan for Saturday’s night. When you were there, you and Pierre would order some food and enjoy a peaceful night in the hotel room. You didn’t want to go out or anything, since fans and journalists were everywhere. It was a way of relaxing him before the race.

So, when Pierre finally came back, much later than he usually does, you had everything prepared. But the look he gave you let you know it wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought. “I already eat,” he said in an emotionless tone. He never does that. Worse, he never goes anywhere without letting you know. Especially when you’re waiting for him. Because he knew you would.

You got up immediately. “Wait a minute, Gasly.” You managed to grab his arm before he went to the bathroom. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere that concerned you.” He replied, shrugging. “You always see you’re not my stress relief doll. So, I made you sure you wouldn’t have to deal with this.” But it didn’t sound as gentle and compassionate as it seemed like.

There was something in his eyes. Something you knew pretty well. Because you had the opportunity to see it anytime you were spending time together. Or, more exactly, when your bodies were together.

You couldn’t believe it. How could you be stupid enough to wait for a man who was doing God knows what with someone that wasn’t you? “Go to hell.” You mumbled, punching him away. The worst part was that Pierre didn’t even flinch. He didn’t move. He barely looked at you. It was like you didn’t matter at all. Almost like you never ever did. And he just wanted to be alone tonight.

Which was, maybe, the only truth in all the thing he wanted you to believe that night.

You almost didn’t stay for the race. You were this close to book a plane to go back home and miss everything. But was Pierre really the only thing that made you want to watch a Formula One race? You couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t give him that much credit.

So, you stayed. And watched the beginning of the race from the grandstand. You tried to be another normal fan among the others. Screamed with them when the cars were coming near you. Listening to their complains, laughing to some jokes. You thought you could enjoy the race peacefully.

Or so you did.

Because then it happened. You watched one Alpine being hit by another car. Rolling over. And over. And over. Until it stopped. And you finally saw the number 10 on it.

You remember everything. The noise the car made when it got hit. The noises it made when they both rolled over. The silence in the public when everyone was watching it in disbelief. The silence when the other cars stopped.

Then you remember nothing.

All you knew was that you were still there, hours later, sitting in silence. Trying to calm your mind down but it kept screaming horrible thoughts. How ironic that in a place where it’s a loud because of the cars the only thing making noises was your brain.

Your eyes were locked on the scene. Where there were still proofs of the car accident. From there, you could even see some of the Alpine’s paint on the road. Like it got teared apart. Just like your heart.

Two of your senses being focused on what happened, you didn’t notice the person coming and sitting next to you.

“You’re still here?” it was a stupid question. Of course, you were. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to see you and talk to you. But Pierre didn’t know what to say after what happened last night. He feels like, if he was in an RPG, he would have lost all his friendship progression bar with you and had to start all over again.

You couldn’t even turn to look at him. There was so much going on inside your head right now. The memories from last night’s fight, his words, his look…and then today’s accident. The surprise, the stress, the fear… “I thought I had lost you.” You whispered, almost like a thought leaving your mouth by accident.

“I watched the accident” you continued, finally finding the strength to make proper sentences, and organizing your thoughts. “I watched it. I felt…useless. You were down there. I thought you were dead, and I was just watching it. I couldn’t do anything. And all that I could think about was that I told you to go to hell last night. That I didn’t enjoy one last night with you. One last moment. I thought it wasn’t fair. And I felt selfish because it wasn’t even the thought of you being in an accident that I found unfair. It was that I didn’t have a moment with you.”

Through all your speech, Pierre held your hand. You didn’t even notice until he started caressing your skin softly. To encourage you. To prove you he was there now. “Glad to know my dick is more important than my life to you” he joked, and you hit him in the shoulder. “Ah, that was I needed. A good hit in the shoulder just where I got hurt.” He laughed again. He added a kiss in your hair just before you realized what he said.

“You, what?” you finally turned around to see him. And you had to be honest: he looked terrible. Pierre had some bruises on his arms, and you noticed the bandage on his shoulder sticking out of his shirt. He looked exhausted, with small eyes and a tired smile. But he was there. It was all that mattered in the end.

“Nothing too serious. I should be able to race in two weeks, so.” he was taking it better than you thought. But maybe the idea of being here and not in the hospital was helping.

“Listen,” he started, holding your hand tighter. “I’m sorry. For making you believe that I was with someone else yesterday. I was mad at me, at the world but certainly not at you. But I couldn’t…be there, act nice when all I wanted was punch some walls and drink more than I should. It was easier to make you leave than pretend to be fine. You always complain about me treating you like a stress relief doll.”

You sighed. “Idiot, I do that when you’re being mean to me when I did nothing. You don’t have to be fine all the time. You can be angry and sad or whatever emotions you want to feel, and I can help you. In a healthy way.”

You saw the surprise on his face. Like you said some magic words he didn’t expect. “Because…you still want me?” you could hear the hope in his voice. And it hurt you to answer honestly: “I don’t know.”

“You don’t…know?” he frowned.

You were now the one holding his hand, playing with his fingers to try and distract him. Or maybe making him accept what you were trying to say. “The way I got scared of losing you made me realize how much I cared about you Pierre. More than I ever did. It’s not a simple friendship or agreement or I don’t know what. I…appreciate you. And the truth is, if you can’t offer me a real relationship…I’m not sure I want to stay around. I deserve better. We both deserve better.”

You were convinced Pierre would agree with you. Saying you were right and that you should both start looking for someone that would offer the love you deserved. That it wasn’t fair for you to stay around when he wasn’t giving you what you were looking for. Maybe he wouldn’t agree and then it would just end badly. But you really thought it was the ending. You, leaving this place alone.

“I thought about this too.” He answered. “During the accident.”

“You had time to think while your car was doing all that stuff?”

“Yeah, you got me. During and after.” He laughed and he noticed the little smile on your face. “All I could picture when I thought it was…maybe the end for me, was you. You over here. And the idea of leaving you alone…boy I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t leave you. And when I realized that I was still pretty much alive…I knew I couldn’t let you go. I had to keep you. I had to…love you. For real.”

This. Was definitely not on your scenario card. Pierre, the man you always knew as loving his single life and not wanted not to commit to a real relationship, admitting he wanted to be with you. For real.

“So… We might need to work on this but I think we can have a real thing.” He added, coming closer to you.

“Relationship.” You said. “Not a real thing. A relationship.”

“Relationship,” he laughed before finally putting his other hand on your face and kiss you.

This kiss was like no other. It wasn’t passionate, trying to prove something to the other. It was just real. Like a promise. Like the start of something new.

The start of a real relationship.

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#pierre gasly #Pierre Gasly x reader #Pierre Gasly imagine #pierre gasly x you #Pierre Gasly x y/n #Pierre Gasly angst #Pierre Gasly fluff #Pierre Gasly story #f1 #F1 imagine #my writing

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discopaddock · 10 months

Text

SNOW, SNOW, SNOW - PIERRE GASLY

PAIRING: single dad!pierre gasly x polish!fem!reader

GENRE: angst

WORD COUNT: 2380

NOTE: im back finally!! sorry for absence yall i just had a lot of school and i was on a school trip so i wasnt using phone too much. hope you like this one, x.

WARNINGS: burn, missing child, my english, google translated french

If Y/N L/N had haters, Pierre Gasly was one of them. If she had only one hater, it was him. And if she had zero haters, that meant that Pierre Gasly was dead.

Y/N had no idea why Pierre didn't like her so much. If there was something which happened and it didn't have a good outcome, he would always blame her from their whole group.

And because of his father, Claude Gasly didn't like Y/N either. He was Pierre's mini-me so of course he was acting the same as his father.

I guess it was the 2023 winter break, when Y/N, Pierre, Claude, Max, Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo, Lando, Yuki and their girlfriends were together in the Alps and the little guy got lost in the woods, but I'll tell you about it later.

“Enzo, none of them like me so why should I share a room with them?” Y/N asked, when she heard that she was going to be roommates with the Gaslys.

“Come off it-”

“I'm fucking not, for fucks sake, I don't want to share room with them, they are going to kill me and I am fucking serious at this moment” she announced, making Lorenzo, Charles and Max laugh. “I can even sleep on the couch, just not with them,” she added, but then Max said that he can share the room with Pierre and his son, but she would have to share the room with Lando.

She had never felt so thankful in her life before.

Sure, Lando was pretty disgusting, but he was better than the Gaslys, who hated her.

“Hey, hey wait! Y/N!” Verstappen yelled to her, watching as she was running upstairs with her huge suitcase.

“Hey Lando! Guess what, we're sharing a room” the girl said, after entering the bedroom, where Norris was sitting on his bed, which was the one against the window.

“Oh, okay?” He said a little confused, but he didn't mind. He was actually best friends with Y/N, so he was happy about it.

“So um yeah, bye Lando” Max announced after taking his valise and he left the room.

And then the Gaslys had arrived. Claude was an energetic boy. He was full everywhere. And as I said, he was his father's mini-me, so he looked exactly like him; the same ice-blue eyes, brunette hair, a gap between the teeth. As if you did copy paste in real life.

And Pierre liked to have matching clothes with his son, so it was even more copy paste in real life.

And again as I said, Claude was really energetic. And because of that just after taking off his winter clothes and shoes, he ran to his, Pierre's and Max's bedroom, not looking around, so he collapsed with Y/N, who was carrying a mug with a hot tea. This story for little Gasly had a happy ending, unlike L/N, who burned herself with the tea and broke her favourite mug.

“Kurwa mać” she cursed in her native language with teary eyes and a red hand. She quickly picked off parts of the mug and ran to the kitchen and put her hand into cold water. “I'll clean it up in a moment!” she announced but Colette, who saw the whole incident calmed her down, saying that she would do it for her. Fucking hell

“Do you need anything?” Augustin asked, after she entered the kitchen and saw Polishgirl, who still had her hand in the water. “Could you bring me my makeup bag? I have ointment for burns and frostbite in it” Y/N answered and Colette only smiled, nodded her head and went to the room of L/N and Norris.

“How bad does it hurt?” Lando asked, when he entered the kitchen with Y/N's makeup bag.

“Really bad? I guess” the girl answered, wiping her hand with a paper towel. “I don't have any bandages, damn it” she announced, rummaging through the makeup bag.

“Lorenzo's must-have” and with that, Lando ran to the eldest Leclerc's bedroom. “Enzo said if your hand won't stop hurting at night, he will drive you to the hospital,” Norris announced, putting the bandage on his friend's hand. The girl nodded. Her hand was hurting like hell, but she was hoping that she wouldn't have to go to the hospital.

“Fuck, I don't have any mug now” she said after a moment of realization. “I need to go to the town” she said and started walking to their room. Lando followed her, saying that he could go with her. “Be careful with your hand” the boy said, which made the girl roll her eyes. They were almost ready to go, when someone knocked on the door. “Come in!”

“Y/N, I know someone that wants to tell you something” Collette announced after walking to the bedroom. The little boy stood in front of the Polishgirl and mumbled: “Je suis désolé d'être tombé sur toi” I'm sorry I ran into you

“Je ne suis pas en colère, mais fais plus attention la prochaine fois, d'accord?” she answered, crouching, so she could look at Claude's face. I'm not mad, but be more careful next time, okay?

“Je suis désolé pour ta tasse” the boy added. I'm sorry about your mug

He actually felt sorry for that situation.

Sure, he didn't like Y/N, because of his dad, but still she was always kind and nice to him and it was his fault that all of this happened.

“Je ne suis pas en colère, ne t'inquiète pas” she said with a smile on her face and Claude hugged her. L/N had no idea what to do. After a while she hugged him back and because of that, he gripped her even tighter. I'm not angry, don't worry

Finally the boy moved away from her, so she could go with Lando.

“Bye!” the boy waved at them, so did Colette, who had a warm smile on her face.

“I don't remember if little Gasly had ever treated you like this” Norris said, when they finally sat in the girl's car.

“Same, Lando. Like I- fuck, he never liked me” Y/N announced. “Like his dad. Because they act the same but you know. I didn't even think that he would apologise to me”

“Yes, yes, same. Like he never wanted to play with you when we were hanging out, he was just mean to you like Pierre” Lando agreed with her.

“Do you know why Pierre doesn't like me so bad? Because for four years since I met him he always treated me like shit and never told me why” she asked, but her best friend didn't know.

“Since Claude was born he became really protective over him. So maybe it's because he didn't know you before C was born? Like he considered you as an enemy because he thought that you would hurt his beloved son? Like the female defends her young” Lando explained and the girl had no choice but to shrug.

“I don't want to think about them, just let me buy a new mug” Y/N said and got out of the car, so did her best friend.

They came back to the house after two hours, because they also went to the bookstore just to watch some books because they felt the vibe.

“You two were on a date or something?” Charles asked when they entered the living room.

“Who knows?” Lando moved his eyebrows in a suggestive way with a smile on his face. Y/N only shook her head, also smiling.

“Good luck on your new way of life!” Yuki yelled at them, when they were walking to the kitchen. Everyone laughed.

Well, everyone except Pierre who shook his head with a disgusted look. How old were they? 5?

“Oh, Pedro, stop being so boring,” Yuki told his best friend.

“You act like you were five,” Gasly said, which made Yuki laugh even more.

“Why are you laughing?” asked Claude, who just woke up from his nap. His English was broken but as a six year old bilingual boy it was really good.

“Because of your dad, C” Tsunoda answered, sitting the boy on his lap. “He's really jealous, you know” Yuki whispered to the little brunette boy's ear.

“Why is he jealous?” Claude asked, also whispering. “Y/N and Lando,” the Japaneseman answered quickly and quietly.

Well, yes, Pierre was jealous about Y/N and Lando. He was jealous of their relationship. In his opinion, they were together, like they were dating and did all that stuff, which people in love do and he used to do, when he was in a relationship with C's mother, Héloïse.

He was also jealous because he didn't spend as much time with Lando as they used to before the Brit-Belgianman met the Polish Girl during her Erasmus in France.

Plus, Y/N was really attractive, like she had catched a lot of women's or men's eyes, so did he. He wanted to date her actually, but he was at lost point; he fucked up at beginning of their acquaintance.

So Pierre thought that there was no other option, than just pissing her off for the rest of their lives.

On the next day, the whole group went skiing. Some of them like Lando and Arthur were snowboarding also.

It was a fun day. It was the only time when Y/N liked being in the mountains the whole year. Because she was a sea person (just like Pierre).

At twelve, they went to eat lunch. L/N was sitting with Norris, Charles and Colette at the table, while Pierre and the rest were sitting at the other one. It was only because the big table where Pierre was sitting was too small to accommodate them all.

After lunch they went for a walk in the woods. It was fun, relaxing and the trees were looking amazing covered with the white snow.

Everything seemed to be a dream until Pierre realised that he lost his son. They were at the car park, when Gasly realised it.

“No Pierre, you're staying here with Yuki, you're panicking and you won't be helpful in this condition” Lorenzo said, looking into the Frenchman's eyes.

“We should start looking for him as quickly as possible, let's go” Y/N said and ran into the woods, so did Lando, Arthur, Carla, Max, Gabby, Charles, Colette and Lorenzo.

“They'll find him, don't worry” Yuki tried to calm down his best friend, who was crying.

“I fucking lost my son, I'm a horrible father” Gasly scoffed and rested his head against the car seat.

“No, you're not! You raise him on your own, he doesn't have a mother, so you have to be both for him and you are doing it really well. And it is common that kids are lost, when they are small like C” Tsunoda handed the brunette man a tissue, so he could wipe his tears.

“Yes, but in markets not in woods!” Pierre cried out. “I'm so awful. Like fuck, I treated Y/N like shit for these four years and now she was the first person to ran into the woods to look for my son. That fucking hilarious!” he said.

“You should apologise to her” Yuki announced, which made the other man take a deep breath before he started talking again.

“It's too late”

“No, it's not! Y/N is the kindest person I've ever met. Like if you tell her the whole truth that you like her in this romantic way, she will definitely forgive you” the man announced.

“Yeah and that's the problem. I'm grumpy and she is sunshine. I won't tell her that. She doesn't like me back. She's dating Lando” Pierre said.

“You're such an idiot, they're just friends”

And while Yuki was giving Pierre a lesson about Y/N, she was running in the woods just to find the little Gasly. It was getting dark so she was worrying even more about the little boy.

“Claude!” she knew that she shouldn't scream in the woods, but what could she do? She repeated the boy's name a few times, walking deeper into the wood. “Claude!” she yelled again and she was losing her hope, but then she heard a small voice on the left. She quickly ran there and found little Gasly, who was sitting under a tree with blue lips and red hands.

“Oh, Claude” she said and picked him up from the ground. The boy only hugged her and covered his head in her neck. The girl pulled gloves from her jacket pocket and gave it to Gasly to wear them.

She was terrified of his condition.

“I want Papa,” he cried. He was hungry, terrified and frozen. “I know, you'll meet him in a moment, I promise” she announced and kissed his head. “I was chasing a squirrel and then no-one was around” he said, which broke Y/N's heart. He was only six years old and it definitely was a huge trauma for him. “You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you” she told him. “I think I know why my papa thinks you're pretty,” Claude whispered. “I heard when he was talking about you with Yuki in our living room. I think he likes you, but he doesn't know how to tell you” he added.

Y/N was shocked.

Pierre fucking Gasly was thinking that she was pretty.

“Do you like my papa too?” the boy asked and Y/N had no idea how to answer him.

“Well, he's nice” she only stuttered and started walking faster. It was already dark and she was worried that she would get lost too.

“We're here, Claude” she announced when they were ten metres from the whole group.

Y/N was the last person to show up (as always).

“Is Papa here?” little Gasly asked, but the girl didn't answer him, because both of them were hugged by no-one other than Pierre. “Papa!” Little Gasly gasped after he recognised his father by his smell.

“Je suis tellement désolé, Claude” the man said. “Et merci, Y/N, merci beaucoup” he added. I'm so sorry, Claude. And thank you, Y/N, thank you so much.

The talk with Yuki gave him a lot to think about himself, her and how he treated her and how he wanted to treat her.

#formula 1 #discopaddock #pierre gasly #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x slavic!reader #pierre gasly fanfic

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norrisleclercf1 · 10 months

Note

I humbly beg for protective Pierre, who’s a complete dick to literally everyone else, but the minute he sees reader he just turns into a soft pile of mush and snuggles her and kisses her and he’s all smiley. And we all know Pierre is BUILT so when some guy starts hitting on his girlfriend a little too aggressively, Pierre has no problem knocking the guy out.

Pierre totally is the one to be an ass to everyone but his baby

Pierre was staring hardcore at the media personnel watching him

they all wanted to get an interview with him, but after this morning

no way

Pierre snapped at some reporter which has deterred everyone else

To the outside world, Pierre was this goofy jokester

to the people who knew him he was a fuckin dick

but to you?

Pierre was your softy, gives you anything and everything, boyfriend

if you so much as looked at something to long

Pierre was right there, asking if you wanted it

you're soft spoken, and kept to yourself

fans knew of your relationship as you two didn't hide it

You always blushed when Pierre bought you something

he was so damn sweet on you, it made the others sick

unaware of how Pierre was with others you always laughed

when people would tell you that he was actually a dick

you'd wave them off and say that he was just tired

everyone rolled their eyes at you, until they saw what he was like with you

when they saw that he was sweet like sugar, they never said a word again

So when Pierre was acting out to everyone they knew

you weren't either here yet or not coming to the race at all

so when he finished his interviews and was being a dick

that faded the moment he heard his name

seeing you run towards him and the other drivers

Pierre's facade melted quickly

he yelled your name and scooped you up in his arms kissing you gently

as he holds you like fine china

Charles gags seeing his best friend melt into this puddle

because of you, but also happy that someone could control him

Pierre sits you down, and instantly starts

to dote on you, making sure you are comfortable and have everything

leading you through the people you two giggle and kiss the entire way

the both of you make it to the dining area to get some food

Grabbing food you sit down, but Pierre pulls you close

you both eat, but noticing your drink empty you go to refill it

Pierre offers, but you say no, wanting to stretch out your legs

Noticing you aren't back he sees a guy talking to you

narrowing his eyes, he watches you shrink in on yourself

people around stare at the Frenchman when his chair scraps

loudly across the floor

walking closer, he hears the guy hitting on you

but in a aggressive manor

stepping behind you the guy stutters seeing the dark look on

Pierre's face as he stares the jackass down

turning you see Pierre behind you

he grabs your hand and pulls it gently, having you stand behind him

Turning he kisses you gently on the forehead and then your lips

Pierre doesn't give the guy a chance before he punches him

you yelp, jumping back as Pierre starts punching the shit out of him

Charles and Carlos pull Pierre off who just laughs and smirks

this was a new side to Pierre, or was it?

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 scenario #f1 pierre gasly #pierre fluff #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly f1 #pierre gasly angst #f1 angst

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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better luck next time | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 5 to better left unsaid (the better series)

what started as a quiet day in monza ends in shatters, tears and painful questions, the most important one being why

word count: 6.2k tags: slight mature content but not really also i think we can probably blame max (fewtrell) for everything

Lando just so happened to be standing outside of the McLaren motorhome when you walked past with Pierre. He might have been in the middle of a conversation with Max, but as you strolled on by, the world seemed to move in slow motion.

The sunglasses did little to cover how ecstatic you were to be there, nor did they do anything to hide who you were. The media, fans, employees, people knew you as Lando’s friend, but all of that was changing all because you showed up with Pierre.

A breeze caught your hair and you raised your hand to push the strand out of your face. Your playful smile widened when Pierre leaned in and said something, resulting in you nudging his side jokingly.

Maybe Lando was reading into Pierre’s expression too much, but to him he just seemed smug and arrogant, all because you were at his side.

Lando knew you were stunning, he wasn’t blind. But today there was a different energy to you as you walked past in your all-white attire that only highlighted your already radiant glow. Your top was sleeveless and cropped, showing off your arms and a bit of your stomach. Your jeans hugged your curves and flared above the only hint of colour in your custom pink and red Air Force 1’s.

Were you wearing pink shoes because of Alpine? Lando could remember the days you showed up to the paddock in similar neutral outfits but with a hint of papaya so people knew where your support lied.

“Lando.”

He snapped his head towards Max, clearing his throat and trying to play it off as if he wasn’t just checking you out. Lando wasn’t subtle though and before Max could call him out, he glanced back in your direction only to find that you had disappeared somewhere in the paddock.

“You were staring, mate,” Max said. A month ago, Max would be encouraging Lando to do something about this. He would be overjoyed knowing that Lando was finally seeing you the way you had always seen him.

Now, Max was a little annoyed.

That was evident by the dead stare and semi scowl on his lips. Max wasn’t impressed that Lando was now giving you attention.

Lando shrugged, “She looked good, that’s all.”

“She always looks good,” Max rolled his eyes.

“Should I have said hi?” Lando looked down the paddock again. No point though, he knew you were long gone. What was he going to do? Run after you?

“Absolutely not.”

Lando was taken aback by that answer. “She doesn’t hate me. She said it herself, she still cares about me. It’s not like we’re not friends anymore.”

“Give her time, Lando,” Max told him. Lando wasn’t thinking about anyone but himself. He could have played it off as if he was trying to fix your friendship, but he only wanted to get you away from Pierre, even just for a second.

Max nudged him towards the doors of the motorhome, knowing that Lando wouldn’t have remembered that he had to get ready for the last practice before qualifying. He’d be thinking about you for the rest of the day, wondering what you were doing in the Alpine motorhome, wondering if Pierre knew to tell the hospitality staff that you liked lemon in your water.

Lando couldn’t help but think about how he usually kept an extra jumper in his drivers room, strictly for you to use. Pierre probably didn’t know that you didn’t like wearing team branded merch so you would never ask for an Alpine hoodie if you were cold, but you were also too kind for your own good and if it was offered, you wouldn’t know how to say no.

Pierre probably didn’t know that you preferred to watch practices and qualifying from the hospitality lounge and that you’d only stand in the garage during the races. You hated being in the way and even though Lando assured you time and time again that you were always allowed in the garage, you felt better knowing that you wouldn’t be bothering the team or the drivers during the early sessions.

Lando did worry a little when he thought about you spending time with a French team. You spoke very little French, barely enough to get by in a conversation and while there were certain rules in the garage and on radios about speaking English, those rules didn’t exist in the motorhome, where you’d probably be spending most of your time.

You consumed every second of Lando’s thoughts. During the briefing, during the meetings, during interviews and it wasn’t until he was climbing into the car for the last practice session did he finally become aware of his surroundings.

You would have noticed instantly if Lando was distracted. You would have told him to snap out of it and to do his job. Instead, it was Lando’s engineer who asked him if he was alright.

And the answer was no, Lando was nowhere near alright. He didn’t like that you were somewhere in the paddock but he had no idea where. He didn’t like that you would be watching Pierre all weekend. He didn’t like knowing that you might go these next two days without exchanging so much as a word.

More importantly, Lando didn’t like this burning realisation creeping in, reminding him that he might just be too late.

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paddocksleuth ohh is that the alpine team i seeee

itselenaberri 💕💕

Hanging out in Alpine’s hospitality lounge with Elena was a fun change of pace. You two got along well, the conversation flowed naturally and it was heartwarming to listen to her talk about her relationship with Esteban. She casually asked if you and Pierre were an item, but you didn’t have an answer for her.

You wanted to say yes, but you also hadn’t put any labels on it, nor were you in a rush to.

“Look, we both know that Pierre’s history with women isn’t ideal,” Elena took a sip of her mimosa before continuing. “But he seems to really like you. Since the start of the season, he’s never flown someone out to accompany him. He wants you to be here.”

“I can’t remember the last time he was in a relationship,” you admitted, trying to think back to all of those gossip blogs and reports on social media. You came up short. Pierre’s flings with girls never lasted more than a weekend.

“No one’s caught his eye quite like you did,” Elena smiled as she spoke. You wanted to believe she was being honest, she had no reason to lead you in the wrong direction. Stability was something that everyone was after and she had it with Esteban. It made sense she’d want his teammate to find it too.

At the end of FP3, both Alpine drivers came and stopped by. They had obligations all day so you didn’t expect to see Pierre until after qualifying, but then you spotted him walking your way across the hospitality lounge and the warmth that spread through you was undeniable.

If you were in the middle of a conversation, it was completely disregarded now. You tilted your head up as he approached, a smile spread across your cheeks. Pierre caught you off guard by leaning down pressing his lips to yours, his hand resting where your jaw met your neck.

He was still in his fireproofs, his racing suit draped around his hips. He had literally come straight from practice and the first thing he wanted to do, before even saying hi, was kiss you like there was no one else in the room.

You didn’t care that other people were near you. They were probably looking on and gossiping about how you were Pierre’s new girl, but none of them knew that you weren’t like the other paddock flings. You weren’t going to disappear after the race weekend ended.

They didn’t know that you had woken up this morning with his arms wrapped around you. How he pulled you against his chest and left a trail of kisses along your back. No one here knew about the heated kisses you shared after getting out of bed, making it nearly impossible to make breakfast or get ready for the day. Pierre was intoxicating, filling every one of your senses since your eyes fluttered open and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Hi,” Pierre whispered against your lips, bright eyes meeting yours as traced his thumb over your cheek. He gave you one more peck before pulling out the chair next to you and sitting down. Immediately, his hand found your thigh.

You came to find that Pierre always wanted to be touching you. Either playing with your hair or grabbing your hand, anything really. If he was within an arm's reach, he’d reach for you.

“Are you ready for qualifying?” You asked, turning your body to face him so he knew he had all of your attention. There were a few hours until he had to get back in the car, but you didn’t know how long you’d be able to keep him until he was called away.

“A little nervous but the nerves are good,” he said. He squeezed your leg, “Are you going to come to the garage to watch?”

You shook your head, “I’ll stay up here. I don’t want to get in anyone's way.”

Pierre found that thought amusing, “Chérie there’s a designated spot for visitors, you wouldn’t be in anyone's way.”

“I think I’d rather watch from here,” you told him. “I never watched-”

You didn’t finish that sentence, not because you lost your train of thought, but because one microscopic gesture from Pierre had you not wanting to finish. He remained expressionless, but you caught the way his left eyebrow twitched, like he was waiting for you to say Lando’s name, almost challenging you to.

You changed the topic, going for more of a lighter note, “I’ll watch the race from the garage, I promise.”

“Good,” that seemed to suffice and you avoided bringing up Lando.

“Come on,” Pierre said, tightening his grip on your hand as he stood up, “I want to introduce you to some people.”

———————

When the time came for qualifying, Elena left to go stand in the garage. And even though Pierre had managed to introduce you to a good portion of the Alpine team, all of them telling you that you were more than welcome to stand in the garage, you still decided to watch from the comfort of the Hospitality lounge.

Qualifying started off as normal. It was hard to get an idea for track conditions and lap time in the first few minutes, but already it seemed as though Pierre was off to a good start.

One driver on the grid who wasn’t starting off strong, was Lando.

You didn’t want to care, but when the camera kept focusing on him and the reporters spoke about how there was an unresolved issue that might keep him from getting out on the track, you started to care a bit.

You didn’t want to see Lando fail. He was a good driver, you’d always want to see him succeed.

So in between Pierre’s lap times, you held your breath until finally Lando was given the green light to put in a flying lap. He didn’t have much time, the first session was almost over, but you had faith in his abilities as a driver.

Pierre was safe in his P10 position and would move on to Q2 so you allowed yourself to focus on Lando’s lap time.

He wasn’t setting any records, but his time was better than the bottom five drivers. As he started the third sector, he was .5 seconds ahead of Zhou who was sitting in 16th. You could breathe. He would make it through.

Or at least, he would have.

Had he not exceeded track limits.

You watched as the countdown to the end of Q1 hit 0 and the camera focused on Lando’s car heading into the pitlane. He thought he was safe. He thought he made it through.

And then the radio message aired, his engineer telling Lando his time was deleted.

‘No, no, no,’ he groaned into his headset. F1TV picked it up. The camera still tuned in on him and his car in the garage. Even with the helmet on, the disappointment was evident.

It was another few seconds until he actually climbed out of the car. He pulled his helmet off and handed it to a team member. He rubbed his face and dragged his fingers through his hair. He was upset with himself. This wasn’t a team error, this was on him.

Had you been watching from the McLaren motorhome, you would have already been on your way to the garage, ready to greet him with open arms as he sulked away from his team. You would have walked with him to the motorhome, reminding him that he still has a fighting chance this weekend and that starting from P20 wasn’t the end of the world.

But you felt glued to your chair. You didn’t know where you stood with Lando and if he would even want you to attempt to cheer him up.

You opted to text Max instead, waiting a few minutes until you knew Lando would be out of the garage.

You typed out a message and then deleted it and then typed a similar one, only to not hit send again. You knew Max was staring at his phone screen watching that typing bubble appear and disappear until eventually he put a stop to it, already knowing what you were trying to say.

Max: he’d probably appreciate it if you came by

It was embarrassing how fast you stood up. You caught a glimpse at the screen and saw the second qualifying session wasn’t going to start for another few minutes. You could be in and out of McLaren before anyone even noticed you had left Alpine’s Hospitality.

You walked down the stairs and stepped outside. The paddock was much quieter now compared to earlier, everyone had their eyes on the track, media included. Which meant no one even noticed you opening up the doors to the McLaren motorhome and sneaking inside.

Lando’s drivers room was on the second floor, but you had to pass the lounge on the main floor to get there. Lucky for you, the only person sitting there was Max. He stood up the second you walked in, looking about as nervous as you felt.

“Are you sure?” You asked, not even sure what you were asking? Was Max sure he would want to see you? Was he sure it was okay you were even there?

“Y/N he just had his worst ever qualifying,” Max pointed out, glancing towards the stairs. “He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, but he needs to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to overstep.”

“You won’t.”

“How do you-”

“Before everything, you were his friend,” he reminded you. “And he was yours. That’s what he needs right now. I don’t know where you two stand currently and I don’t even think it matters, but you’re the only person that he’ll listen to, Y/N.”

You looked at the screen behind Max. Less than a minute until the second qualifying session. You’d end up missing the first bit but as long as you caught where Pierre ended up, you’d be fine.

Max nodded his head towards the staircase and neither of you had to say another word.

Slowly, you walked up the stairs. You heard faint music coming from the other side of the door and you held your breath before knocking.

“Piss off Max.”

A chuckle passed your lips. That was a very typical Lando response. It was also one of your responses. After spending years together, you picked up on each other's mannerisms and sayings.

You leaned your head against the white surface, eyeing his name plaque on the wall, “It’s- it’s not Max.”

It wasn’t humanly possible for Lando to open the door any faster than he had. You nearly got whiplash when you blinked and all of a sudden, you were face to face.

God he looked rough.

He wasn’t one to get emotional, but you could see the frustration in his features. Max was right, he looked defeated with himself, with the car, with this race. There was no hopeful glint in his eyes, nothing that gave you an ounce of confidence that he would bounce back.

It broke you.

All you could do was step forward and drape your arms around him. Lando hesitated, you felt it, but eventually he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against his body. He exhaled a heavy breath as his head dipped to the crook of your neck and you could feel his hands tense around you.

At this point, you had crossed the line you created by stopping by after being the one who said you needed space.

But it didn’t matter. What mattered was Lando was upset and he needed you. This was your downfall, it always would be. You loved being needed by him.

“It’s just one race,” you said, but something told you this reaction was about so much more than this qualifying gone wrong.

You didn’t want to be the first to let go of this embrace, but you had to. You had to at least try and put distance between yourself and him, even if it was the hardest thing you would ever do.

So you let your arms fall to your side and you stepped back. Lando inhaled a deep breath and this would have been the perfect opportunity for you to leave. The door was still open, there was nothing keeping you there. You gave him a comforting hug, maybe that was all he needed.

But you stayed.

When Lando sat down on the couch, something pulled you to follow. The door swung on its hinges and shut quietly. You just knew that Max was standing at the bottom of the staircase, probably wondering if he had made a mistake by telling you to go see him.

He braced his elbows on his knees as he dipped his head. He loosely pulled his fingers through his hair but his gaze stayed glued to his feet. When your leg brushed against his, Lando didn’t flinch at the contact.

“You know what’s the worst part?” Lando asked, shaking his head. “It’s all my fault. I’m the one who messed up last race. I’m the one who exceeded track limits. I’m the one who keeps making mistakes.”

“You got a podium in Austria,” you reminded him, but that didn’t seem to lift his spirits.

“Because of Ferrari’s fuck ups.”

“No, it’s because you’re a good driver,” you nudged your elbow against his, but he didn’t seem convinced. “Lando, you’ve had a few shitty runs, that doesn’t mean you’re a shitty driver.”

“I feel like a shitty driver.”

You didn’t come here to pity him, you came here to help him get his confidence back.

“Hey do you remember that summer when we were sixteen and we tried to teach ourselves how to play poker?”

Lando raised his head. It was clear he had no idea where you were going with this trip down memory lane, but he nodded.

Of course he remembered that summer. He was in Formula 3 and during the break his family decided to vacation in the French Riviera and obviously, you were invited. There was one night where his sisters were spending the evening on a friend's boat, his parents had gone out to an event and the two of you were left alone in the summer house.

It was your idea to learn how to play poker. You pulled up a how-to guide on your phone as Lando found his dads poker set in the billiards room. You weren’t playing for money, just bragging rights, but you both took it way too seriously, determined to learn the ways of the game.

“Do you remember how awful we both were?” You asked, the question followed by a laugh that seemed to lift the corner of Lando’s mouth in response.

“I remember you were the worst dealer and kept giving me cards I couldn’t do anything with,” Lando said and you smiled to yourself. That was what you wanted him to remember.

“But yet at the end of the night, you ended up winning.”

Lando shook his head, still not following, “What the hell does poker have to do with Formula 1?”

You dropped your hand to his knee. You shouldn’t have, but you did it anyway, giving his clothed leg an assuring squeeze, “Because you’re in a similar spot now, Lando. You’ve been dealt some shitty hands but the game isn’t over. This race, this season, none of it’s over. You are the only person who decides when it ends and I don’t think you’re ready to give up yet. I don’t think you’re done fighting.”

He didn’t have a response for you and you considered that a win on your part. Lando loved to argue so the fact that he was staying quiet told you that you managed to get through to him, even just a little.

Lando smiled again. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was something. It was hope. Despite everything, you still believed in him and his abilities as a driver and that was enough. That was what he needed to hear.

Slowly, you watched the light return to his eyes. His features softened, he unclenched his jaw and he nodded. Lando dropped his hand, letting it rest over top of yours. It was a gesture you had shared hundreds of times before and it wasn’t supposed to be anything but friendly.

It was impossible to miss the way his gaze dropped, landing on your lips as his tongue darted out to wet him. His eyes quickly met yours again.

A month ago, a move like that would have weakened you.

You didn’t know what to feel anymore.

“You ‘gonna be okay?” You asked and then you felt his hand tighten around yours.

You needed to leave the room.

“I’d be better if you hung out in McLaren,” Lando admitted. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier. “But yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“Alpine’s not that bad,” you wanted to remind Lando that you were there because of Pierre. Pierre booked your flight. Pierre held your hand as you walked through the paddock. Pierre was the one who made you feel wanted.

And instead of watching his qualifying session, you were with Lando.

Because Lando made you feel needed.

Even if it was temporary, even if it was borderline toxic, even if it was just another tactic he would use to keep you around, Lando knew exactly what to do and say to make you feel as though he needed you. That he wasn’t the same person without you in his life.

Space. You needed space. You couldn’t keep allowing yourself to do this.

You cleared your throat, “I should go.”

Lando nodded, his line of sight darting to the door. The closed door that probably should have remained open for both of your sakes.

Why hadn’t you stood up yet? Why hadn’t Lando let go of your hand? Why did you text Max? Why did you even come to his drivers room in the first place?

Why? Why? Why? Why?

And what if…

“Lando…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Whatever you were trying to say didn’t matter, it wasn’t like you were telling him to fuck off or saying goodbye. And the second Lando realised you weren’t going anywhere, you weren’t leaving, the way you said his name sounded like a chorus of angels.

And then his lips were on yours.

There was no thinking things through here. If you had thought about the repercussions for even a second, you wouldn’t have left the Alpine hospitality. Instead, Lando’s hand travelled up to cup the side of your face, the pads of his fingers brushing against your hair.

There were twenty different voices screaming at you, reminding you that this was a bad idea, that Lando didn’t love you, but all of those voices were drowned out by the quiet groan that emerged from the back of his throat when you slid your tongue past his lips.

He gripped your waist and pulled you to sit on his lap. Your legs straddled either side of his hips as his fingers dug into your skin. You spent hours thinking about what it would be like to make out with him in his driver's room and now here you were, on top of him and clashing your tongue against his. He twisted his fingers tighter through your hair, keeping you as close to him as physically possible.

You swore under your breath when Lando attached his lips to your jaw. He moved his lips tantalisingly slow, using the grip in your hair to give him better access to your throat as he trailed downwards. When he took your earlobe between his teeth you automatically bucked your hips against his.

It wasn’t fair. Your body shouldn't have reacted like this with him. You shouldn’t have wanted this as bad as you did, not when you just had one of the best nights of your life with Pierre yesterday.

But Lando’s breath was hot as his teeth grazed over your skin and it sparked a fire within you. You ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling at the strands when he found that spot below your ear and worked to leave a mark like his life depended on it.

“Lando-” his name was caught off by an embarrassingly loud moan that had you praying there was no one in one of the nearby rooms. Lando kept sucking on your skin, determined to not let you walk out of here without this visible reminder of him, this reminder that no matter what, you’d always be his.

Even if you were trying to give your heart to someone else, even if he would never love you the way you loved him, you’d always be a little bit his. He’d always had this unspoken control over you.

“Lando I-” you choked on your words, clenching your legs around him as he pulled back, meeting your eyes.

He looked proud of himself, of course he was proud of himself. He had a cocky kind of arrogance to him and you wanted to slap that smirk right off his face.

You needed to get the fuck out of this room.

And Lando knew you like the back of his hand. He caught the way you glanced towards the door. He saw your timid swallow when Pierre’s face came to the forefront of your mind. He could see it in your eyes that you were regretting all of this.

“Don’t go,” Lando urged quietly, tightening his hold on your waist when you made the sudden move to stand up. He pulled you closer, spreading his fingers across the small of your back. His lips found your jaw, but his kiss was soft compared to earlier. Gentle, like he was afraid anything more would break you. It probably would.

“I have to,” you laid your hand against his chest to brace yourself as you climbed off of him, feeling his growing erection beneath his trousers as you swung your legs off.

Lando held on as long as he could, his fingers trailing down your arm and connecting with yours before you finally stepped back.

You turned around, knowing there was a mirror in this driver's room, but the second you caught your own reflection you had no idea who the girl was staring back. Her hair was dishevelled. Her throat was red with a very prominent, darkening spot below her ear. Her hands were trembling.

You caught Lando’s eyes in the mirror and the haze lifted.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, fingers hovering over the childish hickey he had left on you. “Lando I can’t- I can’t go back out like this.”

He pushed himself off of the couch and you found yourself frozen as he approached you from behind. One arm snaked around your waist as he gently pulled your hair over your shoulder, so he too could see the mark.

“So then stay here.”

The nerve of this man.

He didn’t understand that there would be consequences for your actions. Lando didn’t care that you had to go back to Pierre after this, he only cared that Pierre saw who you really belonged to.

He was selfish and conceited and vain and didn’t care about what was best for you.

Lando didn’t like that someone else could make you happy. He felt threatened. He felt as though he was losing you, he was, and the only way to keep you from leaving was by giving you what you wanted.

Because at one point, you did want this. You wanted the intimacy with Lando. For years, you craved it. You wanted Lando to see you the way you saw him.

But it wasn’t real.

He just didn’t want you looking at someone else the way you once looked at him.

You grabbed his wrist and peeled his hand off of you, practically elbowing him in the chest as you turned around and put space between your bodies. When Lando tried to step forward you backed up, your head hitting the mirror behind you.

“You can’t do this,” you found your voice. “It’s not fucking fair Lando. I’m with Pierre, you know this. You can’t just decide you want me all of a sudden, that’s not how this works.”

“But you can decide you don’t want me all of a sudden?” Lando retorted. He sounded much more sure of himself than you did. “Come on, Y/N, I know you. You may be with Pierre but you still love me.”

You wanted him to be wrong so fucking bad. You didn’t want to love him.

“You can’t use that against me!” You snapped at him. “My feelings are not a game, Lando. You can’t just use them to your advantage. You can’t string me along like this. You can’t show me attention because I’m into someone else. You can’t kiss me after making it clear you don’t want me. You can’t pretend to love me now that I’m trying to get over you!”

Tears were starting to well up in the corner of your eyes and you told yourself to hold it together. You were not going to cry over him, in front of him.

Lando clenched his jaw, “What if I’m not pretending?”

It felt as though your heart fell to the pit of your stomach, “What?”

“What if I’m not pretending?” He repeated. “What if I do love you?”

You so badly wanted to believe that to be true.

But you shook your head slowly, “You don’t.”

“Y/N-”

“Stop, Lando. Please.” you cut him off before he could make some sort of grand gesture, before he could sweep you away with the words you’ve been waiting to hear. A shaky inhale passed through your lips, “You don’t love me, you just don’t want me to love anyone else.”

He opened his mouth to argue with you, to dispute everything you had said, but one more weak breath from you had his lips tightening into a thin line. Whatever he had to say, it wouldn’t help. It would only hurt. It would just make things harder.

“I’m leaving,” you finally announced with a sniff. You blinked a few times to get rid of any threatening tears, not like it helped.

His gaze dropped to your neck and your stomach turned in knots. You couldn’t hide Lando’s mark from Pierre, not forever, but you couldn’t necessarily walk out of this motorhome showing it off either.

You swiftly turned and reached for the closet doors, pulling them open and grabbing a plain black jumper, one that Lando always kept in his driver's room. You slid it on, knowing Lando wasn’t going to fight you on it and it only took a few seconds for you to bunch up the hood around your neck until you were confident you could get through the rest of the day without any judgmental stares.

Lando just stood off to the side and watched as you fixed yourself as best as you could. He stayed quiet when you dabbed at the corner of your eyes. He bit his tongue to keep from saying anything else in an attempt to get you to stay.

“This didn’t happen,” you told him, referring to everything that had occurred since you stepped foot in this motorhome. Lando’s hand twitched, but he just balled his hand into a fist and nodded.

When you reached for the door, Lando stepped forward, “Can I just-”

“No,” you were firm, your tone sharp. “You don’t have a fucking right to do or say anything right now. This ends here, Lando.”

You made up your mind. You couldn’t crawl back to Lando. You couldn’t keep letting him have this control over you. You had to stop loving him otherwise you would just end up in this painful cycle, always asking yourself why and what if.

When you were confident Lando wasn’t going to say a word, you grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open. There was more commotion in the motorhome now, more people than before. You just slid your hands into the front pocket of the jumper and made your way down the stairs.

You tried to avoid Max, but he jumped off the couch and followed you outside, at least having the decency to keep his voice down when he grabbed your arm and turned you around.

“What the hell happened?” Max asked, glancing at the motorhome. “I heard nothing and then I heard yelling and then-”

“It doesn’t matter,” there was a growing lump in your throat, but the second you tried to swallow it away, it triggered the tears you were holding back. You inhaled a strangled sob and shook your head, keeping your eyes away from Max. “I’m leaving. I can’t- I can’t be here. Lando, he-”

But you couldn’t even begin to try and explain yourself. Not with every second word being followed by a gasp for your air. You wiped your eyes and just shook your head. Your were hurt. You made a mistake. Your sudden emotions were the best explanation Max would get for now.

“Look I don’t want to make things difficult but-”

Max’s words were cut off when you heard your name being called from behind you. You recognized the French accent as it ripped through your chest.

“Pierre didn’t make it through to Q3,” Max explained quickly. “He texted me asking if he knew where you were and when I didn’t answer he just- well I guess he assumed.”

You couldn’t breathe.

“Chérie, what-” Pierre approached you, but his words escaped him the second he came face to face with your tear stained cheeks and painful expression. He eyed the McLaren motorhome behind you and you watched as the muscles in his jaw tensed.

Pierre could have jumped to his own conclusions. He could have caused a scene right there in the paddock. He could have assumed the worst, knowing you had left McLaren crying. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he just turned and walked away from you, not wanting to get involved in this type of bullshit Lando created.

But he draped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. Pierre dropped his chin to the top of your head, pressing his lips to your hair, “Let’s go, okay?”

You nodded, there wasn’t much else you could do.

Pierre grabbed the pair of sunglasses that was resting on top of his head and handed them over to you, figuring you’d want them to hide how red and puffy your face was. You slid them on and kept your head down, assuring Max you’d text him later.

The two of you barely stepped away from McLaren when the motorhome doors flew open. You looked up, your heart shattering even more when you spotted Lando practically tripping over his own feet to catch up to you.

Pierre stopped walking and eyed up the British driver slowly. He didn’t drop his arm from your shoulder, making it very clear that he wasn’t going to leave the two of you alone.

Lando obviously hadn’t expected Pierre to show up. It threw a wrench in his plans, whatever they were. Maybe he was going to try that grand gesture again. Maybe he was going to apologise. You had no idea and you honestly didn’t care.

Shockingly enough though, it was Pierre who spoke first.

He raised his free hand and patted Lando on the shoulder, “Sorry about qualifying, mate.”

Lando nodded, his attention darting between you and Pierre, “Yeah, not ideal obviously.”

Pierre started to back up, taking you with him, “Better luck next time, I guess.”

His words cut deep. Pierre wasn’t just talking about qualifying. Pierre was referring to how Lando was losing his own game, how he played his cards that first night in the club and now barely stood a chance at winning you back.

But you had no idea that Lando wasn’t about to give up that easily.

part 6 here read all parts here

--- this is a shameless plug but i started an f1 podcast with my friend and if you want to listen to the first episode you can find the links to it here hehe

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violetszone · 1 year

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Little Tennis Fan

Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: After your berak up with Pierre, you found out that you were pregnant, your son Noah looked like his father in everything, except for one thing, his interest in tennis.And tennis was very important to you.

a/n:I do not know what I did, not edited writing

Although you and Pierre had a wonderful son, you had good reasons to break up with him.It was a friendly break up, you both believed that you started living different lives.You were a woman who could stand on her own feet despite coming from a rich family and you were tired of standing next to Pierre like an accessory.

There was no problem when you broke up with Pierre.Two weeks after your breakup, you found out you were pregnant and wanted to believe it was a bad joke.But when your son Noah was born seven months later, the world suddenly became a better place for you.

Unfortunately Noah showed no interest in Formula 1.You would made fun of Pierre about it and say that Noah might be like you in one thing and maybe he's interested in tennis.Of course you made that joke when Noah was just starting to walk.But there was some truth to this joke. You wanted your son to at least play tennis like you, because your little baby was a complete copy of Pierre in every other way.

When you found out that Pierre was going to the Monaco open, you said that you and Noah were go with him, even though you knew that Kika would go too.Tennis was your sport and you had no intention of losing all interest to Kika.Your whole family was interested in tennis, even your grandfather was a famous tennis player.

Absolutely everyone in your family was playing tennis, and you met the tennis racket as soon as you started walking and you played it with pleasure.That's why you would love for Noah to play too. That's why it was such a good idea to take Noah to the Monaco opening, and Pierre didn't say anything because he didn't want to argue with you about it.

Before the game you taught Noah how the scores progressed and he repeated slowly 15, 30, 40 after you.Even his this little interest in tennis made you happy.When you asked him to behave throughout the game, he smiled big, kissed your cheek and said he would behave.you kissed his head and said "good boy".

Noah was really doing very well when the game started he was watching the court carefully with big bright eyes sitting on Charles's lap seeing him like that made you smile. When Rublev won he stood up from his godfathers lap and clapped his little hands in excitement jumping up and down with the biggest smile on his face

Seeing Noah in that state, you seriously knew that your son would be just like you and you looked at Pierre with pride and he was watching his son with a smile You got a little closer to Pierre "I told you he would be like me" Pierre laughed and shook his head "Still, he looks like me in everything, maybe one day he will be interested in formula 1"

You looked again at Noah, who was pointing at the court and saying something to Charles, and you talked to yourself "I don't think so Pierre"

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silverstonesainz-archive · 1 year

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just a little bit of your heart

─── i heard a little love is better than none

pairing: pierre gasly x fem!reader warnings: google translate french; profanity

There is a bit of comfortability in the love you share with Pierre. It’s simple, it’s cohesive, it just works. Though it does beg the question of how? How does it work so well? Better yet: why does it work so well? He spends most of his days strapped in his car or up in the air moving from city to city, continent to continent, while you stay just outside of Paris wrapped up in your own work. How can you love a man who spends more time away from you than in your arms?

You don’t have an answer, just that it does.

It works because he calls you every night to hear about your day. He sends selfies and photos of the world he sees, and buys you snowglobes because he knows how much you love to collect them. He calls you beautiful, tells the world he’s the luckiest guy in the world to be loved by an ‘ange comme toi’. Tu es mon ange, he says. Always calling you angel, his angel. He had his way of making you feel so wanted and loved, even from a thousand miles away.

In the quiet time between race weekends, Pierre always finds his way back to you. It was always on a Tuesday when he’d let himself in with his spare key, dropping his bags in the hallway by the door. He would call out for you and you’d come running. His smile was always wide, crinkled by his eyes as he held his arms out ready to catch you. And when you’re finally in them, god did it feel like home.

He’d hold your hand when he drives you into Paris, taking you to your favorite restaurant. He orders for you because he knows what you like. He lets you drink as much white wine as you’d like, even if he knows he’d have to carry you up the stairs when you get home. But he doesn’t mind, because when he’s holding you up you like to touch his face. You pepper wet kisses along his jaw and make him laugh when you give him grief for not growing out his mustache. You make his heart warm when you touch him sweetly.

Pierre knows your nighttime routine like the back of his hand. He sits you by the sink, hand securely resting on your hip to steady you. He knows to use the cleansing balm first, and then after taking off all your makeup, he picks the serums in the order you usually use them in. He knows nothing of the names, but the different sizes and colored labels are enough to help him figure it out. You’ll have your arms slung over his shoulders lazily as he gently rubs your moisturizer into your skin. You smile lazily, eyes hooded with alcohol as you hum softly.

"Tu m'aimes?" You slur. You love me?

He smiles, nodding. "Bien sûr que je t'aime." Of course I love you.

"Dis-le." Say it.

"Je t'aime, mon ange." I love you angel.

He loves you. He loves you. He does. Right?

Tuesdays grow to be your favorite day, because that means he comes home. It means that sometime in the afternoon, there would be an echo of him throughout your home. The familiar smell of his Valiant cologne would fill the air, it will wrap you up, and once again you’ll feel complete.

You sit on the couch and you wait. The hours tick by, the afternoon comes and goes, and soon the sun is setting and the sky shifts to pitch black.

Pierre arrives at eleven that night, bag dropping onto the floor and far too preoccupied on his phone to announce that he’s home. You hear his steps, heart anticipating his voice calling out for you. But instead you watch him walk into the room, eyes glued to his screen, stopping by you on the other side of the couch. He types and types and types, while you patiently wait for his attention. You can’t deny the way your heart aches, this overwhelming feeling of self-pity that takes over you as you keep your eyes on the man you love with every part of you. You’ve never felt more pathetic.

But he finally looks back at you, and those blue eyes convince you to forget that he was late, convince you not to ask him where he’d been, and to be happy he showed up at all.

The past Sunday doesn’t end how either of you would hope, with Pierre having to retire with only five laps to go. You were sitting at home the whole time, throw pillow clutched to your chest as you watched your boyfriend climb from P13 to P5, only to have all that hard work shattered by a collision with a Williams. You send him a text, reminding him how much you love him and how sorry you are that the race turned out the way it did. He doesn’t respond, but you chuck it to media duties and post-race meetings. You expect a response before you to go to bed, maybe even in the form of a phone call. But it was radio silent. Not a peep, not an update. One second he was in the car and just over forty-eight hours later, he’s standing before you.

At least he’s here, right?

“Pourquoi n'as-tu pas appelé?” Why didn’t you call?

He sighs softly, taking the hand that was just reaching out to you to rub his face– clearly frustrated.

“J'étais occupé mon amour.” I was busy, love.

Mon amour rolls off his tongue like it tasted bitter. It hurt.

His phone pings and Pierre is quick to unlock and read whatever it is that is on his screen. You watch the way his face breaks out into a grin, the way his fingers are quick to type a response, lip tucked between his teeth. You wonder if he ever looks at his phone like when you text him.

“Qu'est-ce?” Who is it?

“Personne. Qu'y a-t-il pour le dîner?” No one. What’s for dinner?

You sit with him at the dinner table while he eats, and he pays no mind to you. He stares at his phone, taking call after call from his team, and answering texts close to his chest. You watch Pierre like a movie, one you seemed to not be a part of. Insecurity is a weed, flourishes without needing to be nurtured and can only be rid of with proper care. But no one seems to care, not even you. You sit patiently, letting vines of self-doubt bury you while you hope the man before you would notice.

But he doesn’t. He never seems to notice you these days, too occupied with his phone and the car. He’d leave with a chaste kiss to your cheek and then he’s rushing out the door. No more invites to see him drive, no more plans of grandeur spent together. More Tuesdays are spent alone in your apartment, while you hold yourself and believe the lies that he’d be coming soon. You watch Pierre’s life unfold through a screen, no longer a part of his story even if you considered yourself to be.

You grow to hate Tuesdays. It means he’s home, that there would be an echo of him moving about your space. Tuesday means it’s the restart of a game you play with yourself. The one where you swear you’re done, that you’ll leave, that you deserve better. And when you think you find the courage to do so, he’s waltzing through the door and planting a kiss on your forehead. Nevermind the lack of twinkle and adoration in his ocean blue eyes when he sees you, nevermind that he kisses you and retreats to the bedroom. The smell of his Valiant cologne suffocates you, drowns in you in a false sense of hope that at least he came home to you.

This Tuesday comes like it does, with your chest puffed out and chin tilted to the sky until you see him and he gives you a passive smile you mistaken for affection. You let him hold your face as he presses a brief kiss against your lips before walking into the bedroom. You follow in his footsteps, leaning against the doorframe and watch as Pierre sets his phone down next to him– screen down. He looks up at you with a questioning stare.

“Allons dîner. Nous n'avons pas été à notre place depuis un moment.” Let's go to dinner. We haven't been to our spot in a while.

“Je ne sais pas... Je me sens fatigué.” I don’t know… I’m feeling tired.

You frown, a lump in your throat suddenly growing as you find it in you to beg him for just a piece of his time– time that seemed too precious to share with you.

“S'il te plaît? Tu me manques.” Please? I miss you.

He sighs, like he’d been burdened with something. Tears begin to gloss over your eyes, shaking your head.

“Pas grave. C'est stupide.” Nevermind. It’s stupid.

You walk away, shielding yourself and frailty, hiding your tears as you scurry down the hall to the bathroom. You splash cold water on your face, a poor attempt at distracting yourself from the ache in your chest. You try to forget that look on your boyfriend’s face, the rejection given in the form of a frustrated stare. Running water hides his footsteps to you, you don’t hear him shuffling behind you. You don’t even realize he’s in the room until you look up from the sink and see him behind you in the mirror.

“Ne sois pas en colère contre moi mon ange. Je suis vraiment fatigué.” Don't be upset with me angel. I’m just really tired.

No words, just a slow nod.

“Je t'emmènerai demain. Nous irons à Paris. D'accord?” I'll take you tomorrow. We'll drive into Paris. Okay?

You nod again, this time hard enough for a tear to fall onto your cheek. Pierre’s expression falls, a sad exhale coming from him as he takes a step closer to you, wrapping his arms around your frame as he leans down to press a kiss against your cheek. He whispers in your ear, asking you not to cry. Repeats his promise of taking you into the city and to your favorite spot. You want to ask him if he still loves you, asking him to say it to you over and over again ‘til you believe it.

But you were afraid of the answer.

So you take his affections for love. You allow it to mend the ache in your heart even if you know deep down it’s temporary.

He keeps his promise, he drives you into Paris. He takes you to his favorite restaurant, and you’re seated in the same spot you sit at since you both started coming here. He orders for you, because he knows what you like. But you eat in silence. He taps away on his phone while you nurse glass after glass, until the white wine has your head swirling. Your cheeks feel hot, and the room seems to tip left to right ever so slightly.

“Ralentir.” Slow down.

Pierre’s request makes you feel guilty. It makes you put the nearly empty glass down and eat your dinner quietly. You watch as he smiles at his screen, twirling pasta in his fork with no intention of eating it. It’s busy work, doing what he can to pass the time.

You’ve developed a sort of jealousy to the world around you, most especially to the phone in his hand. You envy the smile it gets, one you hadn’t seen directed to you in god only knows how long. You wonder who is so lucky to see it, to receive its warmth.

He doesn’t hold your hand on the ride back, doesn’t carry you up the stairs like he used to. He walks several steps ahead of you, only gracious enough to hold the door open for you. You flop onto the bed, undoing your jewelry and slipping off your shoes. You watch Pierre do the same, trading the dressier ensemble for jeans and a t-shirt.

“Où vas-tu?” Where are you going?

“Je vais rencontrer des amis. N'attendez pas, d'accord?” Going to meet some friends. Don't wait up, okay?

You nod wordlessly, watching as he slips his shoes back on before he walks back over to you and presses a kiss on your forehead. It lacks a spark, a warmth that you used to feel.

"Tu m'aimes?" You love me?

He stops in the doorway of the room, looking back at you with a soft sigh.

"Bien sur que oui." Of course I do.

"Dis-le." Say it.

The air is thick. You wait for him to say it, for sweet words to reassure you the way they used to.

“Tu sais que je fais. Pourquoi dois-je le dire?” You know I do. Why do I have to say it?

You nod, gaze moving down to your lap. He loves you. He loves you. He does. Right?

“D'accord. Fais attention. Je te verrai plus tard.” Okay. Be safe. I'll see you later.

You watch him walk out, listen to his footsteps move further and further away from you until they disappear behind the front door shutting. When you’re sure he’s gone, you pull yourself off the bed and stumble into the kitchen to grab a half empty bottle of wine. You don’t bother with a glass, making your way back to bed as you turn on the TV and drink straight from the bottle.

Some time in the night, the wine lulls you to sleep. It’s dreamless. Your body feels heavy, sinking into the mattress. The alcohol numbs you, helps you forget the impending despair and self-loathing waiting to settle in your bones when Pierre comes home– if he comes home.

He does, the door slamming shut, pulling you from your sleep. You take a quick peek at the time. 3:08am. You squeeze your eyes shut when his footsteps come closer, and the door to the bedroom squeaks open. Your heart beats quickly, listening to Pierre attempt to move quietly around the small room. Rustling, padded footsteps, fabric falling to the floor. It isn’t long until the bed is dipping behind you, and you can feel his body heat against you. But you don’t feel his arms, no kiss, no form of affection. It’s cold as he slips into bed with you, facing the wall instead of you. His soft snores fill the space in no time, and you allow yourself to open your eyes. You quietly slip out of bed, eyes scanning the now messy bedroom. Clothes are strewn across the floor, shoes kicked against the wall. You shuffle quietly, cleaning up after him as he sleeps in your bed.

It’s when you pick up his shirt do you catch a whiff of a sweet rose scent that’s not yours. You hate the smell of roses.

You spend the rest of the night on the floor of your bathroom, his shirt balled in your fist as you cry angrily but quietly.

There’s a bit of fear in leaving the only love you truly ever known. A fear in confronting the fact he was no longer yours alone, and that he had likely found someone else. How do you choose to tiptoe around him, to allow yourself to fall into a false sense of security time and time again? How can you love a man who has fallen for another? How does loving him work?

He spends most of his days strapped in his car or up in the air moving from city to city anyway. He was never truly there to begin with, even on your best day. Maybe your love never truly worked to begin with.

But you both stay, even if you know how much it breaks you.

It’s complicated. An age-old term to describe the limbo between friends and something more, between I love you and I’m sorry, between love and its end. It’s used to describe two stubborn people unwilling to let go of the other out of their own selfishness. Because that’s the truth. You stay, selfishly taking what he has to offer as enough, lie to yourself and say the very little he gives is enough to sustain your heart even as it cracks under your chest. You both lie through your teeth when you say you’re happy together, when you face friends and family who see the loveless stares you exchange at the dinner table. But no one has the heart to call you on it. They take a page from your book, and stand idly by. They watch quietly as you lose pieces of yourself everytime Pierre walks out the door without you.

The fact of the matter is that neither of you wanted to be alone. You’d rather sit in a room with ‘complicated’ than to be alone. But you love him, you really do. And you think that maybe he does too, because why else would he stay… right? There was at least a bit of comfort in the fact that a bit of love exists in the space. And sometimes a little love is better than none.

NOTE: i kinda fast tracked this one bc i got a surge of inspiration. so sorry if it doesn't make any sense. i tried to proof read it but im a dud when it comes to my own work. yes, sorta almost based off 'just a little bit of your heart' by ariana grande. hope u like this one & as always, feedback is always greatly appreciated.

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