#sry if this looks weird I'm mobile

[hardraiin-blog1]

@nadinechapman

learning from past mistakes isn't something kosta is good at, but he's learned not to promise any dates as his track record for actually turning up has been abysmal. the struggles of getting out of bed doesn't seem a good enough reason for standing someone up. but he's made it here today with a little support from certain pills and powder. he's escaped to the garden for some quiet and solitude when the door opens. kosta looks over his shoulder, cigarette hanging from his lips as he's locked eyes with nadine, the girl from the booth. “ah, shit--" he whispers under his breath. lost for words, he simply states at her blankly, despite the sudden roar of panic that begins to set him alight.

[farharbour]

it's... my birthday today.

[babygirlbenji]

Hottest D.I.L.F - Pierre Gasly

A/N cat finally published a fic after seven months, who cheered !! anyway this is my first pierre fic and i'm lowkey proud of it ??? sry there's not rly much 'dad!pierre' but maybe it could b a series?? if u know what i mean?? anyway let's get into it!!

It really was not very often that Pierre was home. With his hectic schedule, he was away for days, sometimes even weeks. It was very hard for you, especially when you first got together just over five years ago, but even harder now that you had an 18 month old daughter to think about. 

However, there was no doubting Pierre’s devotion to you and little Amélie. Any chance he got to take his girls to a race and show his baby off to his fellow drivers, he took it with both hands. Amélie had come to be a regular in the paddock, and all the drivers loved meeting and interacting with the little girl. 

When Pierre was home, though, it was like everything that had happened in your lives before you met had led to this exact moment. The laughs you shared, the stories you told, the love you had for both each other and the little human you created… it was like something out of a fairytale. Many happy evenings were shared on the balcony in your home near Nice, Amélie fast asleep in her cot with you and Pierre sharing a glass of wine (for him) and a soft drink (for you, as you were still breastfeeding) only a few metres away. 

One such day, during the summer F1 break, your work day had been… less than ideal. You worked at a high-end restaurant as an events co-ordinator, and your customers were infamous for being very difficult and demanding. You’d spent the first half of the day trying to persuade one client to not use one caterer (who was notorious for either poor food quality or just not turning up at all), and the other half of the day trying to persuade a colleague that a collaboration between the two of you would be highly beneficial. Much to your chagrin, neither venture had gone in your favour. 

Fumbling with the keys to your home, you unlocked the door and kicked your heels off, dumping your bag on the small dresser by the front door. You made a mental note to yourself to check your files at the weekend. 

The house was eerily quiet. Normally, when Pierre was home and looking after Amélie, your home would be vibrant with the giggles of a daughter laughing at her father doing some weird shit, or her bouncing away in her bouncer while he played F1 2022 (while stealing glances every few seconds to make sure she was okay). 

Today, though, the halls were silent. No baby giggles, no goofy dad jokes, and definitely no sounds of pixelated Formula 1 cars. 

‘Hello?’ you whispered. You made your way through the hall, before coming across the sweetest scene you had ever witnessed.

Pierre and Amélie were stretched out on the floor, on her baby mat and below her mobiles (of F1 cars, of course), both fast asleep. She was on her back, arms lazily flopped on the floor above her head, while her father was on his side; he probably fell asleep like that to make sure that she fell asleep before he did, as he hated sleeping on his side. 

You whipped your phone out and took a picture of the scene in front of you, before quietly stepping forward and gently knocking Pierre’s foot with your own. 

‘Oi.’ Another nudge with your foot, slightly harder than the last time. ‘Don’t make me mimic Daniel and yell your name obnoxiously loudly.’ The Frenchman finally stirred, looking around blearily to see who had dared wake him from his slumber. You did feel a bit bad, as the season was a few days away from getting underway again, but you wanted to spend some time with your husband before your daughter woke up from her sort-of-planned nap. 

‘Bonjour, amour,’ he mumbled as he got up to wrap his arms around you. ‘Good day?’ You shrugged, relishing his embrace. Your head instinctively rested on his chest and you let out a contented sigh. 

‘Typical rude customers, typical crusty old boss. What else is new?’ Pierre chuckled. He broke apart from the embrace slightly to cup your face with his hands. 

‘Quit. I’ll support you.’ You made a face. 

‘I’m grateful for the offer but you know I like being independent.’ 

‘Go part time at least.’ It was indeed tempting, and you had thought about reducing your hours, but that was a conversation and a decision for another day. Right now, you had a husband to catch up with and dinner to make together. You stood up on your tiptoes to give him a gentle kiss. 

‘I’ll think about it. What do you want for dinner? We’ve got some lasagne leftovers, or I can do a pasta bake with something, or we could order in, or…’ Your sentence was interrupted by your daughter stirring on her floor mat, obviously recognising her mother’s voice. ‘There’s my little star, how are you, Ammy?’ 

As Pierre watched you pick up your baby and hold her close to your chest, his heart swelled with love for his girls. He had known since the moment he met you that you were the one for him, but there were several moments that stuck out to him in which he knew that he was going to spend the rest of your lives together, and one of those moments was six months before he proposed to you, when you had just given birth to Ammy. 

‘Je t’aime, amour,’ he whispered to you. Your eyes met and you shared a sweet smile, before your attention returned to Amélie, who had started fussing. 

‘Bonjour, my little petal, how are you?’ You gently lifted her out of her bouncer and into her chest. She giggled at the attention from her mother, playing with your hair with her tiny fists. ‘Ow, ow, darling, that hurts.’ Though your words could have come across as scolding, your gentle laughs as she figured out the texture and waved your hair around negated the slight pain as she pulled the strands from your scalp. 

Pierre watched, completely transfixed by his two favourite girls. He’d always wanted kids, especially a daughter, but this was a million times better than what he had ever imagined. 

After you had had dinner on the sofa watching a new season of Below Deck, you tucked Amélie into her cot and put her little nightlight on. You said your usual goodnights to her, as you gently kissed her soft baby hair on the top of her head. She smelled of her baby lotion, of vanilla and fresh laundry. It was one of your favourite smells. 

‘Goodnight, my angel, mama and papa love you so much. Sleep tight.’ You closed the door as quietly as you could. 

‘Amour, where are you?’ Pierre’s voice chimed in from your master bedroom. 

‘Just coming, darling, I’m just down the hall,’ your voice softly echoed down the hall. Pierre was always the protective type, especially when you joined him in the paddock, but since you had Amélie, his protectiveness had grown tenfold. If you were just at home, though, it was probably just him being a clingy bastard (not that you really minded). 

You joined him in the huge four-poster bed, snuggling into his side. It was moments like this you missed the most; just you and him, alone from the world and having some time to yourselves. You loved Amélie, of course you did, but every couple needs time just for each other. 

‘Would you prefer it if I was here more?’ Pierre’s question made you sit up and look at him, bemused.

‘What do you mean, babe?’ He shrugged.

‘I’ve just… I’ve been thinking about it and maybe it’s time for me to quit F1.’ Your face must have conveyed how shocked you were at this revelation, because he ploughed on. ‘Well, Amélie’s getting older, I don’t want to miss any more than I have, and I can always do reserve driver positions for teams or be a pundit like JB. I have three driver’s championships now, I doubt I’ll be short on offers. Plus I can be the hot… hot… what do you say? About JB?’ You started giggling when you realised what he meant.

‘DILF, babe, and you’d be the hottest DILF in the paddock. But it’s not a decision you have to make right away.’ He nodded, accepting the fact that you were both tired and needed some rest. Like you said, it wasn’t a decision that needed to be made right away. All you needed to do know was bask in each other’s company, safe in the knowledge that all the two of you would ever need is each other.