🔞Lockdown Vids | [KINKTOBER]
[Harry W2S + WillNE + ChrisMD]
"Harry, your food's just come!" Pushing Harry's door open, I saw my boyfriend swivel round in his chair, Will, Stephen and Chris cheer on the computer screen in front of him.
ng Harry's door open, I saw my boyfriend swivel round in his chair, Will, Stephen and Chris cheer on the computer screen in front of him.
"Ohhh, I don't want whatever you've got me, Stephen." I watched as Harry put his head in his hands, myself laughing lightly before going to tousle his hair and lean down to see the boys on his screen.
"What's this lockdown mukbang's collab theme?" I asked Chris, leaning back and sitting on Harry's lap. I felt his arm wrap around my waist, fingers lightly brushing over my fabric top as he toyed with my tee-shirt.
"Well, today we're going for what we agreed to last time," Chris started explaining his video exuberantly. "Everyone's ordering for the person that ordered for themselves last week-"
I felt my breathing hitch as Harry's fingers dipped under my thin tee-shirt, his fingers gently skimming my stomach and running along the sides of my skin. I gulped, trying to ignore the soft feeling of Harry's gentle touch, trying to focus on Chris's words. It was unclear whether Harry's touch was intentionally sensual, or whether it was just my hormones that had me feeling a tad more aroused than normal, thoughts already going left with just the slightest of Harry's touch.
"W-wow, that's really fantastic, C-Chris..." I spoke, my words jumbling as I tried to piece my words together. "How're you, square."
I laughed and leaned back onto Harry's chest as Will let out an "OI!".
"I'm not a square, you... you..."
"If she was a shape you know damn well she'd be an hourglass, Will." Chris finished his sentence for him.
A blush creeped onto my face, my hips shuffling at the compliment. Harry's hand found a place to sit against my side, holding onto me possessively as if I might leave.
"She might be an hourglass but she's got the face of a wrong'un." Will shook his head. "Not that it's bad, just that it makes me want to do bad things to it."
Chris then started "What, are you trying to insinuate you wanna face fuc--
"Yeah, well she's taken boys." Harry spinned the chair so that he could be seen behind me as well- a sick-of-it expression drawn onto his face.
"Doesn't mean you couldn't take two more though, does it, Camille?" Chris winked with his dazzling smile and signature confidence, only making me more flustered, the blush on my face evident.
"I..." I found it hard to put my words together and tell him I didn't. It was only when Harry squeezed my side with his hand, I found myself able to answer again. "I think you'll find Harry is fulfilling enough as it is."
I leaned behind me to look into Harry's blue eyes, their cornflower calmness and his cute uneven stubble. The straight nose and sweet pink lips which my fingers traced slowly, before I leaned down to press a kiss to his them, setting his takeout bag to the side of his desk and giving him a hug before slowly getting up from his lap.
"I'll be hovering in the background, let me know if you need me." I smiled at Harry, waving goodbye to the boys also before turning and walking out of frame to lounge on Harry and I's bed- all just to hear Will's voice proclaim.
"Goodness, she's just as good-lookin' from behind as well, i'nt she?"
...
"What is it now?" I leaned down so that I was eye-level with the computer screen, smiling at the mildly-drunk boys who looked up happily at the company.
"Cam, we need you to tell us which of us boys is hottest photoshopped as a girl." Stephen said with a completely straight face. I blinked a moment before looking in the chat which Harry graciously opened up.
"Will, you're quite pretty as a girl, aren't you..." I mumbled as I scanned across the photos.
"Takes one to know one, lovely." He responded, raising his beer up before taking a sip. I rolled my eyes.
"Not a bad jawline, Chris- Stephen, you just look like your sister- and Harry is the prettiest to me." I leaned back, sitting on Harry's leg and resting my head on his shoulder. "How much longer is your recording gonna be, boys?"
"Shouldn't be too long, Cam," Chris responded, checking the clock behind him. "We're just going on a five minute break, now-"
"Good, I need a bloody piss." Stephen ran off of his little screen in a questionable outfit, his even sillier run making everyone crack up a bit.
"I'll be back in a few too, you guys- don't get up to anything without me!" Chris left his setup, Will also doing so just a moment later, leaving Harry and I alone together for a moment. I lifted myself onto my knees, swinging myself around so that I straddled Harry- perching on his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck, looking into his happy face- smile round and genuine and eyes crinkled into happy ovals.
"Your shoot isn't going to be too much longer, is it?" I asked, letting a hand run into his hair and play with his soft brunette locks.
"Not too much longer," He hummed. I knew he always loved me playing with his hair- especially when I pulled and tugged at it. "Why'd you ask?"
I leaned into him, pulling an earphone out of his ear and whispering "I want you," in it, before shuffling up his lap so that my core was pressed against his wood through his joggers.
Harry bit his lip at the feeling, smile turning into a smirk as he looked back up to my needy eyes. "You gonna kiss me then, or what?"
I wasted no time in pressing my lips against his passionately, licking the sweet port off of his lips and kissing hungrily, my sensing getting drunk on the feeling of him slipping his hands under my shirt and caressing my tits as he kissed back, groaning as I lowered my hand down behind me and found his crotch, slipping my hand beneath his own waistband as my fingers trailed over his boxers, tracing over the hardening cock beneath the material as he pulled my top off and left me in my bra.
Harry pulled away for a moment to find his way between my shorts, pushing them and my panties to the side as his finger trailed from my clit right down to my core, making me lean into him and shiver at the pleasurable feeling.
"This wet already?" He smirked before both hands landed on my ass, playfully smacking it which caused me to let out a yelp before rolling my eyes.
"You know you aren't meant to slap my arse at every given opportunity."
"Sorry gorgeous," He said, with a grin so shit-eating it was laughable. "How ever could you forgive me?"
"Just shut up and put that mouth to better use."
"With pleasure."
He flipped me around, bending me over his desk and shoving his keyboard and pens to the side and pushing my shorts and panties down hurriedly, running his tongue between my core slowly before circling my sensitive spot causing me to elicit a laboured moan, my whole body tingling from the stimulation, and only feeling it moreso when Harry pushed his fingers into my hole and began pumping in, causing me to clench around his fingers and moan lewdly at the feeling of his digits slipping between my walls.
His tongue worked in small tight circles, finding a rhythm with his fingers that had me on to my tip toes, rocking and matching his thrusts with my hips, eyes screwed shut and muscles contracting as my moans became more breathy and desperate as I felt a pressure forming in the bottom of my core.
"Fuck, Harry, I'm gonna- I-I'm -"
He simply groaned into my pussy at my moans, the vibrations hitting my sensitive spot and pushing me over the edge, causing me to let out one final loud moan as all my muscles tensed, the knot in my stomach dissolving as Harry began licking my cum from my thighs like a drunken man, driving me into an overstimulation which only stopped when I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled his head away from my core.
"Damn leech," I joked as I looked into his eyes, before pulling him up for a kiss. He fell back into his chair, pulling me back into it with a squeal as I held onto him, feeling just a bit bare considering all I wore was a bra, whilst he still wore his joggers and shirt. "Don't you want to join my naked-ness and take something off?"
Harry shrugged, pulling his shirt off and making me grin. He knew I loved his muscles. His shoulders and triceps, and that suble ab definition and chest muscle than shone beneath his skin. I pressed a chaste kiss to his neck, finding a tender spot between his collarbone and neck and licking and biting, causing him to elicit a moan as I pulled back to admire the bruise I'd left on his neck.
"Can't let you get away with that-" with that, Harry pulled me into him and pressed his head higher up my neck and beginning his hickey so that it'd be more visible, causing me to throw my head back to let out a noise- only to come face to face with his camera behind his setup....
The camera's light was still flashing red.
"HARRY!" He ripped his head from my neck and followed my finger, pointed straight at the camera with the flashing light indicating it was on.
"Shit, shit, shit-" Pulling his keyboard and mouse over, he hastily plugged and earphone into either of our ears and began rifling through his windows on the monitor, only to find that he was still unmuted, with his camera on and streaming in Discord- and Chris and Will were still in the call, both sat in their chairs with a look of bright red on their faces.
Holy shit...
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Another day, another kinktober post! Sure, I've only posted 2 smuts in the whole of the October month, but you guys can manage. Hopefully this makes up for some of the lack in updates, too. There is a part 2 on the roster as well so i suppose you can keep your eyes peeled for that too 👀👀
Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!
To see more, here's my MASTERLIST
And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read
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high school in jakarta || pg10 fic
"I couldn't have you sit there and think that you're better 'cause you're older."
Summary: Pierre Gasly was in Los Angeles to attend his girlfriend's record label's festival, Head in the Clouds. Sadly, meeting Ensley’s close friends would also mean that he’d have to meet her high school sweetheart, who he believed he couldn’t compete against until Ensley ensured that his two-day attendance wouldn’t be spoiled by some guy who couldn’t let go of some memories she couldn’t even remember.
Content warning: Use of explicit language, established relationship, insecure!Pierre needs a hug, smug ex-boyfriend (fictional), mentions of high school romance and nostalgia, brief appearance of Lando Norris, Joji and WillNE, kind of an abrupt ending, fluff??
Note: I need to get this out of my google docs 🤠 enjoy and let me know what you think! xx
masterlist
Pierre Gasly had always been considered cocky by people who didn’t know him that well. He had a bad reputation when it came to women. His ego always believed that he could be charming or too flirtatious. Too arrogant. In some instances, Charles even had to tell him to get his shit together and make things clear for the woman he was in a situationship with.
But he had an alter ego that he hadn’t met before until Ensley Soleil came along.
He could admit that how it started was a bit too… complicated. But it wasn’t anything that a courtship couldn’t handle.
Ensley was celebrating the first year she’d been single since she left her cheating boyfriend, and yes, maybe shading him was too petty — but he went after her first, calling her out for being too busy and… bland? Yeah, those were his words. Celebrating meant that she posted photos of herself backstage before performing at her last concert of the year in Europe — London.
Then the shitshow began there.
BACK THEN
Her YouTube channel started in the United Kingdom while she was in university. She could remember connecting with William Lenney when her channel grew, knowing he lived a few tube stops away from her school and flat. Then she gradually continued to sing on the internet and made content with Will and some of his friends until she graduated. Then a year passed, and she became a well-known Asian artist based at Los Angeles after she signed a contract with the American record label 88rising.
She didn’t know how the algorithm worked in the internet, initially thinking that maybe the comments about her post being “liked by pierregasly” or noticed by an F1 driver were nothing but some prank initiated by her peers.
At some point, Will had mentioned that he had a friend, who was also a driver in the said sports. Will regularly followed and watched the races on television, attending the race in Silverstone whenever his friend would invite him. She was acquainted with this guy, meeting him once when they celebrated Will’s birthday. Lando Norris was a driver who created content with his peers, including Will himself.
Her sharp memory thankfully had told her to ask him if he knew someone named Pierre Gasly. When Will said yes and asked why, she sent him screenshots of her comment section. He hadn’t responded immediately and when he did, he FaceTimed her and laughed hysterically.
“Oh my god,” Will howled, unable to stop himself from laughing. “Your post was liked by Pierre!”
“I don’t even know who that is?” Ensley almost shrieked. “William—“
“I know, I know,” Will rolled his eyes, “hang on, let me just…” He then added another contact on the FaceTime call, the person answering after the third ring as Lando looked down on his phone with confusion.
“Oh aren’t you a welcome face,” Lando grinned after seeing Ensley on his screen. Ensley’s eyes narrowed. “How’s it going lads?”
“What time is it in there, mate?” Will asked. Lando was moving around in a room, fixing his things left and right before he leaned his phone against a surface to show his upper body over the table.
“We’re in Hungary, so it’s like an hour ahead of London…? Yeah an hour,” Lando nodded to himself before Ensley jumped at the sudden drumroll that he performed with his hands. “Anyway, how about you lots? Anything new?”
“Yeah I sent you a DM,” Will replied with a grin. Ensley remained silent throughout the interaction, too annoyed to even bother speaking.
“Alright I’ll check it,” Lando looked up for a moment and spoke to someone, who then showed up at the screen next to Lando to say hi. The British driver introduced the man as Daniel before “Daniel” left. It didn’t take Lando long to find Will’s text, his eyes widening as Will noticed Ensley flipping him off. Will was going to protest but Lando murmured, “Did he really?”
Thirty seconds passed then… “Oh my… god. He actually did.”
“What is it about this guy?” Ensley grunted in irritation, losing her patience every second as Lando and Will laughed over the news.
If Ensley didn’t know Lando, she would have assumed that he died by the way he fell off with a thud. He then regained his composure before saying, “He’s one of my grid mates. Drives for a different team. A party animal and yeah uh—“
Lando paused and pursed his lips, “Had told me once or twice about coming across your Instagram.”
“What.”
“Oh my god,” Will cackled on the other side of the call, unable to contain his amusement. Ensley shushed him with a glare.
“Yeah,” Lando looked at her with a hint of confusion in his face, “like six races ago? I think it's the Spanish GP. He showed me your timeline and asked if I knew you then I said well yeah I do, I’m following you.
“I had some suspicion that he was somehow trying to slide to your DM,” Lando continued before he asked, “has he?”
“Not that I know of,” Ensley replied. “No. I would have known otherwise.”
“Oh,” Lando’s voice flattened at the answer she gave him. “Well there you go, you have yourself a Frenchman.”
“What— no!” Ensley exclaimed. “Norris, you better give me some context instead of being mysterious and shit. Like who is he?”
“Ensley,” Will gasped in a mocking tone, “did you just tweet bitch who the fuck is Pierre Gasly?”
“Ooh,” Lando grimaced at the post, “yeah, uh… funny thing about that— oi, Gasly! D’ya wanna meet your crush?”
Ensley’s eyes widened while Will’s mouth gaped. They could hear a slight murmuring from Lando’s background. Ensley hadn’t even bothered drying her damp hair, her eyes drooping at the thought of looking like garbage in front of new people.
When Lando began shifting his camera and screen towards a person, she quickly ended the call as soon as the man saw her face. No she wasn’t about to deal with that bullshit.
Then the next thing she knew, the said man slithered his way into her private messages. When she told Will and Lando about his message, Lando brought up that it was an unusual thing for him to say that. Then the driver rattled off about how he’d seen Pierre text a woman before and how… charming his messages sounded.
He’s very much out of character, Lando continued to text, but I’ll see what I can find out.
Lando continued to pry about this whole Ensley-Pierre situation, because not once did he ever witness Pierre text I hope you’re having a good day so far to someone he barely knew.
Ensley was quite hesitant to respond to him as days went on, but she persevered through her doubts and asked general things like how the races worked or how he could even manage to get out of the bed early in the morning without a problem. She had an inkling that he was only trying to get to her pants and she thought that she was right when he invited her to a race.
Everyone knew about the specifics of the invitation, and she did too but thought so little of it. It might have been a passing comment made by the French driver. She just didn’t think that her manager would go as far as allowing Brian to tweet out that he’d send her to Singapore for the race if he got 100K retweets on his post. Next thing she knew she was being sent to Singapore on a first class flight with Will.
Her manager Mavi, and her friend Brian made contact with Pierre’s PR manager and received the paddock passes. But her anxiety was through the roof as she thought about meeting Pierre.
He only wanted one thing and it’s to link up with her. Preferably in his bed. Preferably naked.
But that’s what she only assumed. God, she proved herself wrong when he came picking her up with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a smile so nice. She was so wrong about him.
NOW
The whole thing that she considered a shitshow became a courtship that lasted for three months. She didn’t know when she fell in love, but she uttered the word yes as soon as he asked if she could be his girlfriend.
Pierre could admit that he was too cocky and there was something about Ensley’s character that toned down his arrogance and strong personality. He liked it. Stability was his favourite thing about his life. She was his favourite thing in life.
But he didn’t think that it would come to the point where he felt so… lost. As if he didn’t know how much Ensley had spoken of him in her interviews, videos and even in her songs. He knew that he should be cocky about being loved by her — it was a win.
But hearing that your competitor was just a day away from meeting you and sizing you up? Yeah. He wasn’t too keen at the thought, only wanting to stay at her LA apartment while she had some fun with her circle of friends from school back in Jakarta. He couldn’t do that to her, though, telling himself that he would be alright with meeting her friends.
Ensley could read his face. Despite his insistence that French people had the resting bitch face, she could see his forehead creasing as he stared at whatever the fuck was on the floor. She knew how much he didn’t like the thought of meeting her friends due to a high school sweetheart that she just recently called out on twitter. She knew that confidence took some time to develop; Rome wasn’t built in a day.
She wished that he knew how much she adored him and his effort to be as accommodating to her— with her previous relationship that ended in a sour note being a factor of his consideration.
But he couldn’t read minds, so Ensley settled for an embrace and repeated murmurs of, “I love you” in his ears while she kissed his cheeks repeatedly. He smiled at her sweetness, his arms pulling her in his lap and allowing her to hold him close to end the night of silent battle with his demons. He won.
The next day consisted of going out for a walk and basking in the sunlight that brightened the Los Angeles area, and rehearsals before tomorrow. Pierre liked the heat and the brightness, but he never thought of it too much until he saw how Ensley’s skin seemed to shine under the sun - how the sun shone over her prettiest face he nearly got in his knees to thank whatever God was up there or anywhere. He liked the sun, overall.
She had an hour rehearsal that didn’t seem to take long as Pierre sat and spoke with Jackson, Joji and Ylona throughout the entire hour. He’d look up to check on Ensley every other five minutes but never stopped speaking with the people he befriended a few months ago.
With everyone knowing that Ensley’s ex boyfriend would be at their high school reunion, she also expressed her worries for Pierre to her peers. So Joji decided to assure the Frenchman, “She barely tolerates him— but he happened to be friends with her mates. So really, don’t worry. He’s got nothing on you but a past history.”
Pierre took that information in, offering him a thanks before he told himself to keep his composure once he and Ensley met her friends.
He was wearing nothing too extravagant. He wore a cream crocheted shirt and left them unbuttoned, white ribbed tank top being at the bottom layer while he wore a pair of khaki shorts that matched well with his tops. He had a subtle gold chain hanging on his neck. His blue eyes were fucking pretty.
She did say she wasn't going to go all out. She lived in this city to know she didn’t have to dress fancy in a bar, knowing full well that she and Pierre would call it a night as soon as 11 PM hit. She had to perform tomorrow, after all.
But still, she wolf-whistled at the sight of him, leaning on the doorway with her arms crossed and her cream dress on. Pierre looked up at the mirror to see her reflection staring at his back, her eyes trailing down on his figure as he tried to keep his composure. She had a bad habit of "admiring" his figure, but it wasn't anything that sets him off - he does it to her all the time and would sometimes tell her "you look pretty to devour."
“You’re staring, bébé,” Pierre chuckled, making her stare at him with a grin.
“How to spot a rich European in Los Angeles,” Ensley jokes, giggling quietly as she approaches him. She hugged him from behind, slotting her head under his arm to look at their reflection properly. She took in the scent of his cologne. God, he was so fucking perfect.
Then she said, “I didn’t think you would wear that colour.”
“No?”
“I thought you’re like Ricciardo,” she quipped, “with his party shirt and all that?”
“Bébé we’ve been together for ten months, you know this is my party shirt.”
“No it’s not,” Ensley snorted, “you’re more of a linen shirt and khaki pants guy. You’re wearing a crocheted shirt.
“But nonetheless,” she said quietly, “we’re going to be the hottest couple in there.”
“I sure hope so,” Pierre chuckled, reaching down to kiss her hair. “I’d hate to be rated as 1.”
“Your driver number is 10 for a reason, bub,” she laughed, now standing straight before she clapped his back gently, “c’mon, we’ve got our sangrias calling for us.”
“An absolute 10,” Natasha might have been quiet, but she wasn’t too sneaky on gesturing at Pierre’s direction when she spoke to Ensley. “You bagged a good one.”
“Hm,” Ensley hummed happily, glancing at Pierre — who stood by the bar counter while waiting for their drinks — and was caught staring at him. His lips curled into a smirk as he winked at her. She rolled her eyes playfully before turning away to talk to her friends. “Yeah, I lucked out.”
“When you told us about him before you even began dating we went full on FBI on him,” Abby chuckled quietly. “It was easy to find him— seeing as he’s a driver and all that. I was worried about you for a moment though.”
“How so?”
“For one, he’s known for the endless line of women trailing after him,” Abby answered before she smiled, “but you setting your boundaries and him respecting it? Phew, now that’s the hottest thing a man could have within him. Respect, of all things.”
“And you are like the happiest woman to have existed,” Natasha smirked, “who passed her honeymoon phase with all the happiness that a woman could get.”
The conversation in the table was tampered with the karaoke at the front, which helped with avoiding nosy people who’d try to get a good story to hear for the night. But alas, there were nosy people that happened to be in the same group as her for tonight.
“Who passed her honeymoon phase?” Ensley restrained herself from rolling her eyes, keeping her mouth clamped shut to somehow respect her ex as her friends’ friend.
Vero Gerard was a year older than Ensley. It felt wrong for a junior to date a senior, but she was smitten. She could remember breaking her own heart and not dating anyone after him, not in a new country or new city. She hadn’t tried again until that guy named Kenny from San Diego. Vero was memorable, to say the least. At least, those memories that made her realize that she was worth more than how he treated her. She forgot the rest.
He’s only a year older, but somehow his “matured” ego and his experiences in life made her feel small. He would often see her notes and would scoff at how easy it was while she was about to shed tears at the thought of failing. Her father was strict because he didn’t want her to be in danger— a daddy’s girl, she was. While Vero’s parents thought that she was too childish for his liking.
Vero didn’t tell her all of that, instead Ensley learned all of those from a friend of a friend of a friend. Her heart broke at that, bleaching her hair orange when he immediately found a girl to string along.
He didn’t care to tell her where he went, only calling her when he’s drunk. She thought it was ideal to say that she was getting drunk at her friend’s house and having a party with the people there— she really wasn’t. She tried to get back at him, like any petty teenager would.
When she moved to the UK for university, she kept tabs on her friends and acquaintances. She’d immediately turn off her Facebook whenever she came across Vero’s new fling while the photos taunted her.
But that wasn’t her anymore. Now she was only irritated with his petty behaviour and the tone of his voice.
He arrived with their two other guy friends, Jason and Mario, and he couldn’t choose a better time to walk over the table.
“Just Henny about to reach the engaged phase,” Natasha told him, “not that you’d know.”
Vero looked peered at the mentioned woman, to which she stared back but with the unequal amount of interest written all over her face. “You’ve made quite a good album.”
“Heard all of it?” Ensley scoffed.
“I like to keep tabs,” Vero shrugged. Nonetheless, Ensley looked past him to greet Jason and Mario before the two settled near Natasha and Abby. Just as Vero stood there, a figure behind him cleared his throat. Her ex turned around, looking in the eyes of the Frenchman who had no intention to even challenge him to some sort of testosterone competition.
Then Pierre’s eyes softened when he looked down at her, “Got your sangria, mon amour.” He placed down her drink before he found himself sitting on his original seat— next to her. Vero found his seat next to Mario, a cocky smile still written on his face as though he would win the game Pierre had no intention to play.
Pierre reminded himself that he was the one that Ensley would fly and come home to, not anyone. Ensley just reminded him yesterday how much she loved him by peppering his face with kisses. She continued to prove to him that she was equally in love with him everyday. He never doubted that.
“Merci beaucoup,” she said with a smile, obviously proud at her skill of not butchering a simple French phrase, before turning towards the men who just arrived. “Pierre, these are my friends— Mario and Jason. Guys, this is my boyfriend— Pierre.”
The three men exchanged pleasantries while Mario told Pierre, “She really wasn’t lying when she said she was dating an F1 driver. She doesn’t even watch any sport so I didn’t know what changed her opinion.” Pierre laughed at this before telling the man that he managed to change her mind on her lack of interest in the sport by competing in it.
Then she said, “Vero, I’m sure you know Pierre.”
Pierre turned towards the mentioned man, “Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”
He stuck out his hand for Vero to shake, making the others gape quietly. At least, he knew he was a better man without putting it out there. He didn’t need to show his home in Milan to prove how better he was. Vero must have thought of him as some rich boy who would take his pick of the week before moving onto another country for a race.
Vero shook his hand regardless, a fake smile planted on his face. “Likewise,” but he said it as if he didn’t mean it.
Pierre Gasly knew that Vero Gerard was sizing him up. This cockiness of his would eventually humble him, if he didn’t know any better. While the Frenchman felt like he knew very little about his girlfriend in comparison to her ex, Pierre still knew how little she appreciated someone’s egotistical attitude. He experienced her wrath firsthand so he knew exactly her thoughts on people who allow their egos get in the way of reality.
But Pierre still felt nothing but discomfort as he stood by the bar counter to grab some refresher for Ensley and himself, opting for something nonalcoholic instead of getting pissed in the middle of a street he had no knowledge of. It was a full house and it took him nearly ten minutes just to order their drinks. It didn’t help that Vero had approached the bar with his own order and his smug smile.
“How long have you two been together for?” Was the first thing Vero had asked Pierre, fucking around with his empty cocktail glass while he continued to play some sort of mind games with the Formula One driver.
Pierre wasn’t that into the testosterone game that Vero started. Regardless he answered truthfully, “Ten months,” he paused, “fourteen if you count our unofficial months.”
“Unofficial? Hm,” Vero hummed, cocking his head to the side as he continued, “I didn’t think she’d make you wait.”
“How so?” What was Vero insinuating, Pierre asked himself internally.
“I dunno,” Vero shrugged nonchalantly, “she always jumped at the chance to get into a relationship. Even with me.”
His comment nearly had Pierre fuming. Was he calling her easy? Vero must have noticed him get ticked off by the comment, but he must’ve thought that Pierre was pissed at the thought of having to wait because he continued to run his mouth.
“She’s had a crush on me for months,” Vero continued, “yet when I asked her out she quickly said yes. She was the same with that guy from San Diego I think. So, you’re a different story, if anything.
“Don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” Vero laughed as if he was being fucking funny. Pierre would’ve swung his fist at the man had it been for the fact that this night wasn’t for Ensley. This was her night and he wasn’t going to ruin that.
It didn’t feel right that he was hearing someone talk about his woman like this. Like she was easy and naive. She wasn’t. She was headstrong and her petite figure could do a lot more damage on someone’s physical being should she fight against her morality.
He’d gotten a mouthful from her when he joked about having to carry heavy stuff for her because of how small she was, telling him that she didn’t need him when she could just make trips back and forth. She had gotten into an argument with some journalist who thought that she was only in it for the money and fame, spewing out the most colourful words possible to defend herself and her devotion towards Pierre.
So for someone to call her easy and naive — no matter how direct or indirect it was — never felt right in Pierre’s ears. They were so wrong. Vero, for someone who bragged about knowing Ensley for a long time, didn’t know how amazing and brave she was— and Pierre could only pity him for it.
But he controlled his urge to get into some sort of fight with him, not wanting to embarrass himself or Ensley. He was still a Formula One driver with dignity and respect for his girlfriend’s image and being. He was the better man.
“I’d say good,” Pierre answered with a shrug. Vero gave him a questioning look and so the Frenchman continued, “Different means she was looking for a change — and clearly she got tired of the same thing all over again. It was good for her to be able to get out of the loop she was unhappy with.”
“That right?” Vero muttered, his eyes still challenging the driver. His smile fell off as he listened to Pierre’s words.
“Maybe,” Pierre shrugged again, “I’m not really sure— she’s got her own thoughts, after all. I don’t control her. Maybe that’s why I don’t know her much.”
He then looked at Vero while he grinned, “I don’t like dictating what she likes and what she doesn’t like. She only tells me what she wants me to know. Maybe that’s why I don’t know her much— everything she likes I don’t decide for her.”
Before Vero could speak any more, the bartender had placed a glass of alcohol free tonic and a Shirley Temple in front of Pierre as he thanked the man behind the counter.
The choices of drink left Vero to comment, “She likes tequila sunrise.”
“She loves white sangria,” Pierre told him matter of factly, beaming as he sipped on his tonic before he stood up and grabbed the glasses, “she has a mint plant in my place because she makes a pitcher of the drink whenever she’s around. She loves going to the market to get some citrus for her drink, too— saying she likes the fresh fruits of Milan.”
Then he walked back towards their table, extremely proud of himself for standing his ground. Maybe that’ll get Vero to shut up for once, as Ensley wanted.
“I thought you liked the tequila sunrise better?” “Sangria’s much better. I make more of it whenever I’m in Milan. I’d rather not get drunk tonight though so… I only had one and am settling for a Shirley Temple.”
“You always liked the school varsity jacket I had. Do you still have ‘em?” “Had to toss out half my closet. I’ve been purchasing enough for myself lately.”
“Do you still make Che Banh Lot? Like those ones you’d make at my house?”
Pierre knew where Vero was getting at. He knew when a guy wouldn’t quit— and he was sure that Ensley’s ex was trying to make her remember those happy days.
But Ensley’s genuine confusion nearly had him and the girls laughing. She cocked her head to the side and said, “I’ve been making it at home with Tasha.”
“Tasha was there,” Vero nodded in confirmation, trying to get her to agree with his recalling.
Ensley’s eyes narrowed, trying to figure out where he meant before she said, “Eh— nonetheless, I do. You know what? I had Pear assisting me with making them when we last visited his parents in France a month or so ago.”
Everyone but the couple looked at her in awe and shock. Ensley offered them a confused look, only for Pierre to grab her hand from underneath the table to hold it. She rubbed her thumb against his hand mindlessly, a questioning look exchanged between her and her friends.
Jason first spoke up and turned to Ensley, “So you’ve met his parents?”
Ensley, not really aware of the looks exchanged between her friends, beamed happily before rambling, “Yeah! Pascale and Jean-Jacques invited us over when I flew to Milan. I do back and forths, remember? But yeah, P got his flat there and we traveled for six and a half hours. I was glad I had enough time to make it. I’ve got quite a useful assistant right here.”
Natasha, amused at her friend’s excitement, then peered at the Alpine driver and asked with a small smile, “How did they like it?”
“Good,” his French accent thickened while he spoke, “they were wondering if Ensley would come back anytime soon because they wanted to lock her up there forever.”
Her friends giggled at this. “Would you lock her up there?” Abby teased the duo.
Pierre looked down at his girlfriend, not even caring about the man next to Mario anymore. For some reason, there were certain inhibitions that he couldn’t seem to look at anymore. Womanizing, or being a Casanova, was one of them.
In the span of a year, Ensley had managed to slither her way to his heart and found a little space there. He was enthralled with her personality and beauty and it was a shame Vero didn’t see all of that. If you told Pierre that he’d be dating someone that he drooled over on Instagram and that he’d eventually want to marry her, he would have laughed at your face.
But the Pierre in the present wasn’t the same. So he cheekily grinned and joked, “I would but I wouldn’t have anyone to write songs about me.”
Forget about the love that she had back when she was in high school in Jakarta; Ensley wrote more about him, and only him. He wasn’t the same person that everyone would’ve assumed to kick out a girl after one night. She wouldn’t have written Lowkey if she thought of him as someone who didn’t deserve a shot.
She was glad that her relationship with Vero had happened. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to imagine what it’s like to have a life without a certain Pierre Gasly on it.
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