F1 oneshots

Ma Cherie ≪◦ ❈ ◦≫ Pierre Gasly

*****

"Come on, Pierre, the view is better from the top!" I laugh as we make our way up a hill in southern Italy.

The air feels warm, the birds are still singing and everywhere you look tansies are growing, giving the plains a hue of yellow.

He chuckles as he follows me, jogging to grab my hand and twirl me around to face him: "I think the best view is right here, ma cherie."

I blush, looking away, but he grabs my chin and places a quick kiss on my cheek. It makes me blush even more, though he finds it adorable.

His arms slip around my waist, pulling my back into him as he holds me tightly, leaning his head onto my shoulder. He leaves a gentle kiss on my neck and I smile.

He chuckles: "Come on. I want to see the sunset."

We make our way to the top of the hill, walking hand in hand, fingers intertwined and sunglasses comfortably sitting on top of our noses.

There's no one and nothing around. Just the comforting sound of crickets here and there and the faint sound of ocean waves crashing into themselves.

Since he had a few weeks off for summer break, we decided to spend some time just the two of us. Without the cameras, without the flashing lights, the paparazzi.

And it did us good. We both feel happier than during the racing, with less weight on our shoulders. Less expectations to look a certain way, or behave a certain way.

We could just be ourselves.

After having a beautiful dinner at the bottom of the hill, we decided to see what was at the top. So, we're exploring it.

"What do you think is up there?" he asks suddenly, making me think. Pierre has always loved asking me simple questions to see what I would answer.

He said my answers are: "Incredibly creative."

"Maybe a small house, far away from all the rest of the world, where a nice old couple lives happily in love and full of stories to tell strangers like us passing by," I smile.

Pierre watches contently as I explain my theory and takes in the moment. His eyes wander over my face and hand, tightly holding his.

He chuckles: "That specific?"

I nod: "And they cook the best pasta known to man."

He smiles, wrapping his arm around me as we walk. Soon enough, the end of the rise begins to appear. It seems we've reached the top of the hill.

A peaceful silence grows between us, the simple act of holding each other, soothing. When we reach the top, there indeed is a little house there.

But there isn't an old couple living there, no, but rather a big sign outside the house, with one word written on it. Ciliegie.

"Cherries?" I ask. Pierre nods: "There's a cherry farm up here."

I get excited, pulling on his hand to get closer to the house. Inside, there is a small shop filled with cherries and different products that use the fruit as their main base.

All are handmade, with care and love. Pierre lets go of my hand to check out another sign he saw before returning.

"Y/n?"

"Yes?" I ask, not looking up while looking at the different types of cherries in front of me.

"Trésor," he says again, making me raise my glance towards him with a blush.

"Oui, mon amour," I grin, and he can't contain his chuckle while holding a pamphlet. I rush to see what it is and almost scream when I notice it.

"Cherry picking?" I smile up at him and he quickly raises his eyebrows, then lowers them once more.

"Would you like to pick some cherries?" he asks. I don't hesitate and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him close.

His wrap around my waist.

"With you, always," I smile, pecking his lips. He turns serious and smiles, returning the peck with a rather long kiss.

I run my fingers through his hair and he hums in appreciation. It makes me smile and I pull back, staring into his light eyes.

"All right," he says, "grab one of the baskets over there."

Pierre points towards a wall by the shop where dozens of sweet twig baskets are stacked on top of each other. Each of them has a little tag with a number on them.

I manage to grab the basket with the number ten on it and grin when I see that Pierre is watching me pick it specifically.

"What?" I smile, "It's my lucky number."

He chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist to guide me out of the shop, towards the cherry orchard. While we approach the cherry trees, we see other couples and families who decide to do the same as us.

At the entrance, there are some wooden stools stacked by the doors. Pierre grabs one and carries it with us as we make our way into the orchard.

It doesn't take long before we spot a tree full of them. I smile, stepping towards the tree and feeling the soft fabric of my sun dress follow my steps.

I immediately spot some cherries that look perfect and reach out to grab them. I managed to get some of them, but the rest are too far up.

Pierre chuckles: "Here, baby, stand on this."

He places the stool on the ground and grabs my waist as I step onto it, getting more access to the tree. I pick some of the prettiest cherries and put them into the basket.

"Pierre look!" I say when I spot a pair of butterflies flapping their wings through the twigs of the tree.

He smiles when he sees how excited I am and gently helps me down: "Butterflies."

Suddenly his grasp around me feels closer than before. I look up and see him smiling down at me. It causes my own butterflies to flap their wings and I blush, looking down at the full basket in my hands.

Pierre is quick to use the tip of his fingers to guide my chin back towards him. I struggle not to giggle like an excited twelve-year-old and smile up at him, looking back and forth between his eyes and lips.

"Baby," he starts and I stop to look only into his eyes, "you know I can't take it when you look at my lips like that."

My heart starts pounding and I chuckle to try and hide my nervosity. I work up the confidence to answer Pierre: "I don't need you to take it, I need you to react to it."

His eyes widen for a moment and the next they're closed as his lips crash onto mine in a matter of need and love we had never experienced before.

He turns me around to face him and kisses me deeply and gently. We hold onto each other and he caresses my cheek and neck, down to my exposed arm and waist with the sun dress.

It only knocks us out of the moment when I drop the basket full of cherries on his foot.

"Woah," he looks down, a bit spooked.

"Sorry," I say, kneeling to pick up the fruit and putting it in the basket again.

"Hey," he picks me up, "don't worry about that. I've got my sweet snack right here."

I blush again, madly.

"Stop it Pierre," I say with a red face.

"No, I won't. If my baby is sweet as a cherry, then she's my snack."

I laugh, making him smile. He grabs my hand and we continue walking through the orchard until sunset.

*****

A/n: Birthday special :)))

hope you are all super well and healthy

HAPPY NEW YEAR MY ANGELSSS🎉🍾🥂