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Burning Satisfaction - Charles Leclerc (Dark Fic) (Part One)
Words: 1,177
Summary: People always said that Charles would do the right thing, they just never actually expected him to do it.
Note(s): Slightly Dark Fic, Age Gap of 7/8 years (Reader is 20), Gasly!Reader, Reader is Pierre’s younger sister, barely any physical descriptors are given for reader so she could be adopted (as is usually the case for all my sibling!reader fic). Also Charles calls her ‘Petit’ because she is the youngest aka littlest Gasly.
Read Part Two Here
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“Cha?” He turns at the nickname, beaming at the girl.
“Petit! I didn’t know you would be coming today.” He’s unable to stop himself from looking her up and down, wishing the marks he left on her just yesterday were visible.
Her eyes dart downwards, fingers tugging at the hem of her top. “I need to talk to you.”
The quietness of her voice makes his smile drop and he sets his drink on the bar, wrapping an arm around her and ushering her into his bedroom on the yacht. Happy that everyone is still out on deck while he had left to grab himself a drink while taking a quick call.
“What is wrong, petit?” Charles asks, voice as gentle as he can make it as he guides her to sit on the edge of the bed, easily joining her, so he doesn’t have to remove his arm.
She takes a shaky breath, eyes focused on her hands that are now resting her lap, fingers twitching and he reaches with his free hand, stilling the nervous movements.
He says her name, her head nearly snapping upwards at it, the sound of him saying it nearly unfamiliar to her. “It is just me. You can tell me anything.” He squeezes her hands.
Another shaky breath exits her mouth and he watches as her throat bobs as she swallows harshly. “I,” she pauses, licking her lips. “I think I’m pregnant.”
His hand that had been unknowingly rubbing soothing circles on her back freezes for a split second.
“It’s just, I’m late. And I’ve never been late. And I didn’t lie about being on birth control, Cha, I promise! I know we used condoms and I don’t think any of them broke, but I’m late, and I’ve thrown up the last three mornings from the smell of eggs.” Tears are streaming down her face, her words growing more frantic, but he’s unable to speak. “But, please Cha, you have to believe me, I take my pill every day. At nine am, no matter what. I have an alarm set.” Her breathing is now choppy and he finds his words, shushing her.
“I believe you. I’ve seen your alarm, it is okay.” He soothes, lifting his hand from hers and wiping away her tears that are still falling. “Have you taken a test?”
She bites her lip, shaking her head. “No. I bought one, it’s in my bag, but I needed to tell someone.”
“So you came to me.”
She nods and it burns how he has to stop himself from looking satisfied at the answer.
“How about, you drink this and we will talk.” He reaches for the water bottle on his nightstand, smiling at the giggle she lets out when he has to lay flat on his back to awkwardly reach it while still keeping contact with her.
“You have options.” He says, the words burning, the idea of all of them burning him, though one for a very different reason.
“I know.” She says, after taking a drink of water. “But I want this baby, if I am. It’s just,” She pauses again, looking so shy and unsure it makes him move closer.
“What? It’s just what?”
She looks at him shyly, fingers back to pulling at her top before he intertwines them with his. “There’s a difference between having sex before marriage and a baby out of wedlock.”
His breath hitches at the words, at the shy suggestion. His want and satisfaction overwhelm him, his grip on her hand tightening, but before she can apologize or take the words back, he lifts her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, hoping she can feel his love and devotion to her through the small action. “I would happily marry you if you are pregnant.” The last four words are forced out of his mouth in an odd way.
“I know how much your faith matters to you.” His eyes focus on the necklace she is always wearing, the cross hidden behind her t-shirt, a gift from Pierre when she had turned twelve. “And I would never ask that you sacrifice it like that.”
“It wouldn’t just be the baby if we were to get married. I, I want a real marriage, like my mama and papa.”
He smiles, “we can have a real marriage. I would not mind having one with you.”
“But if you found someone else?”
Charles shakes his head. “I don’t believe that will happen.” His voice is so firm, so certain, that he sees the slight uncertainty leave her eyes. “Now, finish your water.”
She immediately lifts the bottle to her lips and he has to look away before he smiles at the easy way she listened to him.
He is thankful it doesn’t take her long to have to use the bathroom and he watches as she gets up and goes to the small bathroom attached, the door closing with a quiet click.
As soon as it does, he’s unable to stop the wide smile that spreads across his face. Head dropping into his hands as he lets out a silent laugh. It had been a gamble if it would work, getting her pregnant. And really he is lucky, she was unlike Pierre, still unpracticed at sex at nineteen, or rather twenty now, and not realizing she should not feel so much leaking out at the end. But it worked. He had gotten her pregnant. Just barely eight weeks after the first time they had sex.
The flush of the toilet has him raising his head from his hands, body itching to stand and open the bathroom door, to stare at the test and watch as it makes his want for her to fully be his, finally be true.
The bathroom door opens with a small click and he smiles at her, opening his arms for her and she doesn’t hesitate, easily sitting on his lap so he can hold her.
“And now we wait?” He asks, running a hand up and down her back.
She takes a shaky breath. “And now we wait.”
The feeling of her in his arms is enough to stop him from going to the bathroom, to stare at the counter and watch as the test changes. It is all too easy for him to lose himself in her warmth, the smell of her, the brushes of her breath against his neck as she breathes in and out.
“Do you think it’s been five minutes?” Her quiet voice breaks the stillness of the room after a while.
“I think so.”
She’s slow to pull away from him, but before she can try and stand, he grabs her waist, keeping her where she is, before one hand raises to gently hold her face, eyes meeting.
“No matter what the test says, it will be okay. We will figure it out.” Charles tells her, waiting for her to give a nod before pressing their lips together in perhaps one of the most chaste kisses they’ve ever shared.
Pairing: Dad!Pierre Gasly x Toddler Daughter!reader
Warnings: None, just fluff !!
Summary: Baby Gasly gets a bit excited and runs off at Disney World.
On a sunny Thursday in early June, the vibrant colors of Disney World beckoned families from all over the world, each one ready to immerse themselves in the enchanting atmosphere. Sunlight sparkled off the famous Cinderella Castle, and laughter filled the air as children darted past with balloons bobbing above their heads. Among those families was the Y/N Gasly, pulling her mother and her father closer to a teacup ride. The small family was finally enjoying a rare break between the 2025 Miami GP and the Italian GP .
Pierre and Kika shared a smile, soaking in every moment of happiness. Y/N was a sprightly three-year-old, full of energy and wonder. Her big brown eyes sparkled with excitement as she absorbed the magical sights and sounds of Disney—a place where her dreams were finally coming true.
“Look, Papa! Mickey Mouse!” Y/N exclaimed, pointing toward a character dressed in a large mouse costume that was happily waving to the children around him.
“Do you want to go meet him, Y/N?” Kika asked, kneeling down to her daughter's height. The little girl nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing as she became momentarily lost in her excitement.
As they made their way through the throngs of families, Y/N was torn between the allure of meeting Mickey and the enchanting rides that surrounded them. After a leisurely stroll and a few detours for photos with whimsically-costumed characters, they arrived at the iconic meeting spot. Y/N's face lit up when she saw Mickey, and she rushed forward, pulling her smiling parents along.
With a bright grin, she hugged Mickey while Kika snapped a photo—this was one for the family album. Y/N grinned happily at her mother's phone, her small face beaming with delight.
Afterward, Pierre suggested a visit to the nearby Dumbo the Flying Elephant ride. “Let’s go, Y/N! It’s going to be so much fun!”
“Yay! I want to fly!” Y/N squealed, her little feet bouncing with anticipation. They waited in line, and Pierre hoisted her onto his shoulders. “Higher, Papa! Higher!”
Their laughter rang out as they finally climbed onto the ride, with Y/N flapping her arms as if she could truly fly. As the ride spun happily in the air, Kika watched them, her heart swelling with love for both her husband and their little girl.
As the afternoon wore on, Y/N, enthralled by the sights and sounds, didn't notice when her parents stopped to take a photo at another attraction. Peering curiously at the giant castle, she subtly slipped away, eager to explore the magical world around her.
It was only when Pierre and Kika turned back to find their daughter wasn't next to them and panic-gripped them faster than a car when the lights went out. “Y/N?” Pierre called, scanning the vicinity. “Y/N?” He repeated louder than the first time.
Kika grabbed Pierre's forearm, a wave of anxiety crashing over her. “We need to find her, Pierre!”
The couple dashed in different directions, Kika’s heart racing. They desperately checked around every corner, calling her name, but there was no response. As the world seemed to close in, Pierre suddenly shouted, “Over there! That way!”
Meanwhile, Y/N had wandered towards the beautiful flowers, her eyes wide with wonder at the sights of colorful petals and swirling displays. She marveled at everything, completely oblivious to the worry that swelled behind her.
“Y/N, stay close!” A voice rang around her, but it sounded distant. “Papa?” she called, her little voice barely above a whisper as she turned in circles, searching.
Just then, another familiar face turned the corner—Charles, who she often called her her “Monny”,or her “Uncle Charlo.” He had taken a break from his own visit at the park to enjoy some downtime before the next race. Spotting the little girl with big, worried eyes, he quickly approached her.
“Y/N! What are you doing here all alone?” he asked gently, kneeling down and putting his hands on her waist in a gentle, protective manner.
“Uncle Charlo!” she exclaimed, relief flooding her tiny features. “I lost my mama and papa!”
Charles’ heart melted at the sight of the little girl, and he immediately took charge. “Don’t worry, mon amour. I’ll help you find them. Let’s go look together.”
With that, he gently took her hand, leading her through the bustling crowd. “Can you tell me what they have on today, mon chéri?” he asked, guiding her gently along.
Y/N frowned, thinking hard. “Papa has a blue shirt, and Mama has a pink dress!”
Charles smiled. “Alright, let’s look for blue and pink!”
As they passed groups of people, Charles kept an eye out for Pierre’s unmistakable figure, his heart racing as they checked stalls and rides. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spotted Kika and Pierre not far away, still scanning the throng of visiting families.
“Look over there, Y/N!” Charles pointed, excitement bubbling in his voice.
“Papa!” Y/N cried out and began to run towards her parents, pulling Charles along with her.
Both Pierre and Kika turned at the sound of their daughter’s voice and blinked in amazement at the sight before them. Charles, kneeling with Y/N by his side, smiled at them, a comforting gesture that reassured Kika and Pierre amidst their stress.
“Thank you, Charles!” Pierre exclaimed with immense relief as he knelt to scoop Y/N into his arms.
“Mama, I found Uncle Charlo!” Y/N beamed, completely overjoyed.
Kika rushed over to hug them both tightly, her heart still racing with the remnants of worry. “Oh, Y/N! You scared us!”
“Let’s stay together now, okay?” Kika said as she pulled Y/N closer, grateful to have her back.
“Okay!” Y/N nodded, oblivious to the tension that had just passed.
Charles grinned, enjoying the warmth of their family moment. “I think the magic of Disney worked too well today, huh?” he joked, tousling Y/N’s hair.
As the group wandered deeper into the park together, laughter erupted again, filling the air with joy. Y/N continued to chatter excitedly, her words a fantastic blend of French and English. Family, laughter, and love surrounded her; this day was one she would remember fondly, filled with the magic of Disney and the strength of family.
A/N: I LOVED THIS ONE BUT I HAD WAR MAKING THE DIVIDER??? my reqs are always open loves<3
Esse imagine pertence a @ari-ana-bel-la e eu estou apenas traduzindo.
A chuva começou como uma garoa tímida, mas logo se transformou num aguaceiro constante que tamborilava nas janelas da escola. Dentro do salão de festas, as paredes ecoavam com a conversa animada das crianças e os aplausos orgulhosos dos pais. Flashes disparavam a cada poucos segundos — mães e pais registrando cada sorriso, cada aceno, cada reverência.
Exceto por uma garotinha parada no fundo da sala.
Sn agarrava seu certificado de papel úmido, com os cantos levemente curvados. Havia declamado um poema sobre as estações do ano — sua voz clara, as mãozinhas agitadas no ar. A Srta. Carter dissera que ela fora maravilhosa. O tipo de apresentação que merecia um buquê de flores, um abraço apertado, um pai sorrindo de orelha a orelha.
Mas, em vez disso, ela ficou sozinha.
Seus olhos varriam cada adulto que entrava, cada casal que recebia seu filho de braços abertos.
O vestido era de um rosa pastel suave, escolhido por Kika dois dias antes. Os cachos castanhos estavam presos em duas tranças perfeitas, e as botinhas pequenas já estavam encharcadas nas solas de tanto andar perto da entrada.
Ela olhou o relógio de novo.
— 19h12.
A Srta. Carter finalmente percebeu que o sorriso de Sn havia sumido. Aproximou-se com um olhar gentil, ajoelhando-se ao lado dela.
— Querida, você ainda está esperando alguém?
Sn assentiu, em silêncio. Seus olhos brilhavam, mas o maxilar estava firme.
O coração da professora se apertou.
— Quer vir comigo esperar na minha sala? Posso ligar para seus pais.
— Ok — sussurrou ela.
•••••••••••••••••••••
Pierre afundava no sofá, pernas esticadas na mesa de centro, o celular na mão.
— Já acabamos aquela garrafa de vinho da semana passada?
— A vermelha? Peguei na terça — respondeu Kika da cozinha, mexendo em um potinho de azeitonas.
Pierre suspirou, exagerando.
— Somos tão adultos. Vinho numa terça-feira.
Kika entrou na sala com um risinho leve.
— Que horas são?
— Um pouco depois das sete. Por quê?
Ela congelou.
Pierre notou na hora.
— O quê?
— Pierre.
— O quê?
— Meu Deus… a apresentação da Sn.
Ele se levantou num salto.
— Merda.
Kika pegou o celular, quase derrubando de tanto pânico. Duas chamadas perdidas. Uma mensagem de voz.
— É a Srta. Carter — disse ela, já apertando o play.
Pierre passou a mão pelos cabelos, sentindo o estômago afundar.
— Somos os piores pais.
A mensagem começou:
— Olá, aqui é a Srta. Carter, da Escola Primária Willowbrook. Já passa das sete e a Sn ainda está aqui. Ela teve uma apresentação linda hoje, mas parece que ninguém veio buscá-la. Vou ficar com ela na minha sala até vocês chegarem. Por favor, me liguem.
Kika já vestia o casaco.
— Vamos.
•••••••••••••••••••••
O caminho até a escola foi dolorosamente silencioso. Pierre olhava o relógio a cada dois minutos, batendo os dedos no volante. Kika mantinha os braços cruzados, o pé balançando num nervosismo quieto.
Encontraram a Srta. Carter de pé na entrada, segurando um guarda-chuva sobre Sn.
Sn não chorava. Não fazia beicinho. Não dizia nada.
Estava ali — pequena, imóvel — como uma estátua em meio à tempestade.
Quando viu os pais, seu rosto não se iluminou.
Pierre saiu do carro correndo.
— Querida, me desculpa...
Sn não se mexeu.
Kika tentou, a voz hesitante:
— Amor, a gente—
Mas a criança apenas se virou para a professora.
— Obrigada por esperar comigo.
A Srta. Carter sorriu.
— Você foi muito corajosa, querida. Estou orgulhosa de você.
Pierre se aproximou com cuidado.
— Podemos te levar pra casa agora, mon coeur?
Sn assentiu, baixinho. Caminhou até o carro sem dizer mais nada.
•••••••••••••••••••••
A volta foi mais fria que a chuva lá fora. Kika tentou falar algumas vezes, mas as palavras pareciam inúteis. Pierre tentou segurar a mão da filha. Ela a soltou devagar. Não com raiva. Com intenção.
Ao chegarem em casa, Sn saiu do carro, entrou direto e foi para o quarto.
— Sn, querida, por favor, fala com a gente — pediu Kika, deixando as chaves na bancada.
Nada. Ela fechou a porta com firmeza e silêncio.
Kika sentou-se no sofá, cobrindo o rosto com as mãos.
— Sinto que parti o coração dela.
Pierre se jogou ao lado, os ombros desabando.
— A gente errou feio.
— Não foi só um evento. Ela falou disso a semana toda. Ela fez convitinhos. Estavam na geladeira.
Pierre fechou os olhos.
— E a gente... simplesmente esqueceu.
Eles não dormiram direito naquela noite.
•••••••••••••••••••••
Na manhã seguinte, Pierre já estava na cozinha às 6h30. Tentava fazer panquecas como Sn gostava — finas, douradas, com calda de morango em forma de coração. Kika cortava frutas, espiando o corredor a cada som.
Às 7h10, ouviram a porta ranger.
Sn entrou vestida com o uniforme, a mochila já nos ombros. Limpa, arrumada, como se nada tivesse acontecido.
— Bom dia — tentou Kika.
— Oi — respondeu ela, sem olhar para nenhum dos dois. Abriu a geladeira, pegou a lancheira e guardou na mochila.
— Fizemos panquecas pra você — disse Pierre, esperançoso.
— Não tô com fome.
Doeu mais do que eles imaginavam.
— Sn — Kika se ajoelhou —, sentimos muito. Muito mesmo. Não tem desculpa. A gente esqueceu algo muito importante e você não merecia isso.
Sn a encarou, os olhos firmes.
— Você não veio. Todo mundo tinha alguém. Até o pai do Noah, e ele trabalha no hospital.
Pierre se aproximou devagar.
— A gente sabe. E isso nos destrói.
— Você sempre diz que eu sou a coisa mais importante — ela sussurrou. — Mas vocês se esqueceram de mim.
Kika sentiu os olhos se encherem de lágrimas.
— Você é o centro de tudo, meu amor. Foi a gente que errou. Nossos cérebros falharam. Não é culpa sua. É só nossa.
Pierre se ajoelhou também.
— Magoamos você. E não vamos pedir que nos perdoe hoje. Mas queremos que saiba que sentimos muito. E que vamos fazer melhor. Sempre.
Sn olhou para os dois, os lábios trêmulos.
— Fiquei sozinha na chuva.
— Eu sei, mon amour. Eu sei — disse Pierre, puxando-a para um abraço apertado.
Kika se juntou, envolvendo os dois com força.
— A gente ama você mais do que tudo.
— Mais do que o vinho tinto? — murmurou Sn, com a voz abafada no peito de Pierre.
Ele riu, com os olhos marejados.
— Mil vezes mais.
— Mais que seu telefone, mamãe?
Kika sorriu, beijando sua testa.
— Muito mais. Você é meu coração inteiro.
Sn suspirou. E, finalmente, sorriu.
— Ainda posso comer panqueca?
Pierre se levantou de um salto.
— Com certeza. Mesmo que a gente chegue atrasado, hoje vai ter panqueca.
Enquanto se sentavam à mesa, a tempestade da noite anterior parecia ter passado. Em seu lugar, só restava o calor tranquilo do perdão, calda de morango e um pedido de desculpas em forma de coração feito de massa.
Daquele dia em diante, todos os calendários da casa — os digitais, os de papel, até o quadro branco na geladeira — tinham uma frase escrita no topo:
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It was a beautiful day in Baku, Azerbaijan, and the excitement in the air was palpable. The Formula 2 race was about to start, and I was getting ready to compete for my team, Prema. As I sat in my car, my mind was racing with thoughts of the race ahead. I was nervous, but also excited to show what I could do on the track.
Suddenly, I heard a knock on my door. I turned to see my older brother, Pierre Gasly, standing there with a huge smile on his face. He had flown all the way from France just to see me race, and I couldn't have been happier to see him.
"Hey, sis," he said, ruffling my hair. "Ready to show everyone what you're made of?"
I grinned back at him. "You bet!"
Pierre and I had always been close, despite the eight-year age gap between us. He had been my biggest supporter since I started karting at the age of five, and had helped me get to where I was today - a driver for the Red Bull Academy. I've always had a fascination for racing. I grew up watching him compete and win, and I knew from a young age that I wanted to follow in his footsteps. So, as soon as I was old enough, I began training to become a racing driver.
As the race began, I felt my heart pounding in my chest. The adrenaline rush was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, and I was determined to do my best.
As the lights went out, I hit the throttle and felt the surge of power as I hurtled down the straight, the wind whipping through my helmet. The track in Baku was a challenging one, with sharp corners and narrow straights, but I felt confident in my abilities. I had trained hard for this moment, and I was determined to make the most of it.
The first few laps were intense, with several drivers jostling for position. But I managed to stay focused and keep my eye on the prize. Soon, I found myself in the lead, with no one else in sight.
As the laps ticked by, I battled fiercely with the other drivers, jostling for position and trying to outmaneuver them at every turn. But I knew that my true competition was myself, and I had to stay focused and keep my head in the game if I wanted to succeed.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I crossed the finish line in first place, the checkered flag waving in the breeze.
As I crossed the finish line, I felt a surge of pride and excitement wash over me. I had done it - I had won my first Formula 2 race! And to top it all off, my big brother was there to see it all.
As I stepped out of my car, I was met with congratulations from my fellow drivers, including Arthur, who had finished in second place. We hugged each other tightly, both of us grinning from ear to ear.
I run trough parc fermé to Pierre who started congratulate me, and we shared a tight embrace. "I'm so proud of you, sis," he said, his eyes shining with emotion. "You were amazing out there, I'm so proud, you drove like a true champion out there."
I grinned up at him. "Thanks, Pierre. You're the best big brother anyone could ask for."
We celebrated together for a while, but soon it was time for me to head back to the pit lane and debrief with my team. Unfortunately, our parents couldn't make it to Azerbaijan to see me race, but I knew they were watching from home in Ruan, glued to the TV screen. But knowing that Pierre was there to support me made all the difference.
As I made my way to the winner's podium, I caught sight of Charles Leclerc, who was also there to support his brother Arthur, who had come in second place. I had become close friends with Arthur over the years, we had grown up together, since Pierre and Charles had been karting rivals in their younger days, and we had become close friends as well so I was thrilled to see that he had done so well.
After the race, Pierre, the Leclerc brothers, and I decided to celebrate our victories together, and I had a great time sharing stories and laughing together. We went out for a nice dinner, enjoying each other's company and swapping stories about our experiences on the track. I felt incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such talented and supportive individuals.
Later that night, we decided to FaceTime our parents to share the good news. Although they couldn't be there in person, they were overjoyed to see us all together and hear about our successes. They congratulated us on our victories and praised us for our hard work and dedication. They were so proud of us all, and promised to celebrate with us when we returned.
As we hung up the call, I turned to Pierre and the Leclerc brothers and said, "This is just the beginning, guys. We're going to go far in this sport, together." And with that, we raised our glasses and toasted to a bright future, filled with even more victories and moments of triumph.
summary: Pierre celebrates his birthday with his twin
Pierre x sister!reader
See you at the finish line…
summary: Y/N is a record breaking, world champion in MotoGP. She’s practically the prettiest girl in the school, if school was the MotoGP and the Formula 1 world. Drivers crushing over her left and right, but only one really catches her eye…
Pierre Gasly x MotoGP!reader
You might fall in love
ON HIATUS
summary: an irritating ex causes you to pretend to be Pierre’s girlfriend. feelings might be caught.
Burning Satisfaction - Charles Leclerc (Dark Fic) (Part Two)
Words: 3,165
Summary: People always said that Charles would do the right thing, they just never actually expected him to do it.
Note(s): Slightly Dark Fic, Age Gap of 7/8 years (Reader is 20), Gasly!Reader, Reader is Pierre’s younger sister, barely any physical descriptors are given for reader so she could be adopted (as is usually the case for all my sibling!reader fic). Also Charles calls her ‘Petit’ because she is the youngest aka littlest Gasly.
Read Part One Here | Masterlist | Support Me!
Charles stops breathing as his eyes land on her. It’s not an uncommon reaction for him at the sight of her, but this. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. This was different.
Her smile is shy, makeup shimmery, her lips the red lipstick he bought her for her birthday when she was fourteen, and allowed to wear makeup, that he has continued to gift her along with other things. But it is the dress she is wearing that has him more breathless than normal. All white and just ending above her knees. It’s a summer dress, light, breathable, and it’s what she chose to marry him in.
“Petit,” he swallows. “You look breathtaking.”
Her smile widens. “You look very handsome, Cha.”
His cheeks warm at the compliment and he reaches for her hand, tugging her closer when she grabs his. A pleased sound leaves him at the feeling of her dress brushing against his skin. It was linen, they were matching, not just by wearing white, but by wearing white linen.
“Are you ready?” He asks, free hand finding its way to one of its many favorite spots. Her stomach.
There was nothing yet to feel, not just a few days from her being ten weeks, but he knew, they knew, that there was something there. Their baby protected and growing inside her.
“Yeah. I’m ready.”
It doesn’t take long for them to get married, the car ride there nearly longer than the process of them signing papers and such, and because of that, the shortness of it, the near business like transaction of it with neither of them having family or friends there with them, as him ushering her back into the car and taking her to lunch on his yacht.
Joris hadn’t asked any questions when Charles asked for him to help set it up, but he hadn’t missed the looks. All of his friends knew something was going on with him, that he was seeing someone, but him not saying anything had them not asking any questions.
“Joris?” She questions when seeing the lunch that’s set up for them.
He grins at how well she knows him, kissing her. “My idea, but yes I had him set it all up.”
“You’ll have to thank him for me.”
“I will.” He tells her, kissing her once more, before pulling out her chair and gesturing for her to sit.
Their lunch is nice, but he can’t help but be distracted by the ring set now sitting on her finger. She had been so surprised by him slipping them on her finger, not expecting it at all. And it's a sign, just as much as the baby in her belly, that she’s his.
—
She tells her parents over the phone the next day that she’s married. She’s beside him on the couch, about to bite her nails before he captures her hand and her fingers start to mess with the rings on his fingers instead.
He listens to the one-sided conversation, as she tells them that she has something important to tell them, two things. Watches as her eyes land on him as she nearly whispers that she’s married, a soft smile on her face, a little disbelief in her eyes. It makes him bend his head, kissing her hand. He can hear the raise of voices at the news, but not make out any of the words they are saying. The increase in volume has her flinching into his side and now it’s not satisfaction that burns at him, but protectiveness.
She pleads with them to listen to her, to understand, that she loves him, that she’s in love with him and his breath catches, heart stopping, at the words.
“Petit.” The word comes out breathless and she stutters over her next words,
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but hearing those words from her, he had hoped but not imagined that he would.
Charles easily pulls the phone from her hands, not even hearing her say that she needed a minute as he hits the mute button.
“You are in love with me?” His hands cup her face, making her look at him, and he can feel how hot her cheeks are.
Her skin seems to burn his fingertips as she tries to look away from him. “Of course, I’m in love with you Charles. How could I not be?” A small laugh leaves her, tears springing to her eyes, and he feels that somehow he messed this up, with that small deprecating laugh she gave, the tears that are welling and he presses their lips together.
“I’m in love with you, petit. So, in love with you for probably longer than I should have been.”
Charles does his best to not think about how he noticed how pretty she was at sixteen, and had tried to push it away. He had only noticed, but it had made him keep his distance, uncomfortable with how in months she had gone from cute to pretty. Their limited contact of seeing each other a couple of times a year went down to only once a year until she was eighteen.
He can remember how much he had hoped as he waited for her to arrive that she wouldn’t be pretty, wouldn’t be attractive, but as soon as she stepped through the door, a warm smile on her face that turned to a grin when seeing him, he realized she wasn’t just pretty, she was gorgeous.
He had tried to keep his distance, to act like he had before, but then she mentioned a piano she had seen, how it had been Ferrari red and she took a picture to show him, and it was the start of him being gone for her.
“How long?”
He swallows roughly, “After the race in Brazil.”
“Oh, Charles.”
She kisses him, arms wrapping around his neck, and he groans into the kiss. Hands finally leaving her face to seek purchase at her hips, thumbs digging into the skin as she licks at his bottom lip.
“It was Milan for me.” Her words are breathless, from the kiss or because of his lips that are now on her throat, he doesn’t know. “You were in the car and called Ferrari and did the most fake cough I had ever heard as you grinned at me, just because I asked if you would get lunch.”
He grins, teeth grazing at her skin and she shudders at the feeling. “I told you I didn’t have plans.”
“You had to sit in the simulator.” She protests, fingers pulling lightly at the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling him away from her throat.
“Which I did the next day.” He reminds her, easily remembering her astonished look as he had called Fred. The older man had known he was faking, but hadn’t cared after getting confirmation that Charles would just sit in the sim the next day.
She rolls her eyes, but his lips brushing against her cheek give away how pleased she is.
He wants to kiss her again, to lose himself in her lips and the feeling of her body pressed against his, but her phone makes a small noise and he’s reminded that she is technically in a call with her parents and he can see how the noise reminds her too.
She scrambles for the device, his quick reflexes saving her nearly falling onto the floor.
She makes quick apologies to them as soon as she unmutes and he’s happy to not be able to hear any shouts. The few minutes of silence seemed to have calmed them.
He wraps an arm around her as she reassures them that she is happy and that this wasn’t a mistake. She then pauses and he can tell what she’s going to say next, it’s what they discussed after all.
“I have something else to tell you. And I need you both to not tell anyone. I’d also like for you to keep my marriage a secret, I want to be able to tell everyone.”
Like this he can hear them say of course.
“I’m pregnant.” She seems to hold her breath as no sound comes through the phone.
“You are pregnant.” The words are quiet and he can’t quite tell who has said them.
“Yes.”
“And this is why you…” they trail off.
“Partly. I couldn’t have a baby like that and I never would have married someone I didn’t love, wasn’t in love with.”
He smiles at the words, pressing his lips against the top of her head.
“He treats you well?” He can tell its Jean speaking.
“Yes.”
“And you are happy?”
“Unbelievably so.”
There are two sighs that echo over the phone.
“That is what matters most. We want to meet him though. He is your husband now, part of the family. And I can only hope you told him you have five older brothers.”
They both wince at the mention of brothers. They were going to be telling Pierre tomorrow and Charles already knows that he will be lucky to get out of it with no bruises.
“Well,” She begins, carefully. “You already have.”
“What?”
She clears her throat and he rubs her arm, feeling her tense more against him. “You’ve already met him. It’s Charles, mama. Charles Leclerc.”
—
“Calamar.” Pierre grins at him, before hugging him. “You never invite me over at such short notice.”
He gives a nervous laugh, hugging him back for a second before fully letting Pierre in. “I know, but I had something to tell you.”
“Your text said as much.”
The text hadn’t been his finest work, he can admit. But he had at least sent something that hadn’t made Pierre panic or nervous.
“Let’s sit.” Charles says, uselessly gesturing towards his living room. “But, uh, you should know, Y/N is here.”
Pierre’s brows furrow. “Y/N is here?”
Charles opens his mouth, though he’s not sure what he would say when he’s interrupted.
“Pierre! You're here.”
He watches as Pierre softens at the sight of her, of his little sister, and he has to force himself to breathe. Pierre wouldn’t murder him, that he was sure of, but he knew that he’d make him hurt.
“I didn’t realize you were still in Monaco.” Pierre says, hugging her.
She hugs him tightly back, having missed her older brother. “I told you I would text you when I left.”
He rolls his eyes, pushing her away, not noticing the way Charles lurches forward at the push. It was gentle, the way Pierre always was with her, but it made Charles’ hands shake. “Because you are so good at texting.”
“Better than you are. Have you actually answered papa?”
Pierre scowls at her, eyes narrowed playfully. “Spoiled.”
“Your fault.” She sings, and Charles can’t help but laugh. It was more than true. Pierre had been wrapped around her finger since she was a baby, happy to be an older brother, even if it was to a girl so much younger than him.
“So, what did you need to talk to me about?” Pierre asks, sitting in the only armchair. It makes Charles want to laugh, the way he’s unintentionally let them sit together.
“Actually,” Both of them look at her. “Charles and I both need to talk to you.”
His eyes widened at her words, this is not how they had talked about doing this. She was supposed to leave. Go either for a walk or to the guest room that was nearly packed with boxes.
Pierre looks at the two of them, confusion heavy on his brow, before he’s sighing, fingers coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tell me you somehow convinced Charles to let you live with him.”
Charles coughs at the words, eyes widening even further.
“I know you’ve been wanting to move to Monaco, but I told you, I would buy a place here for you to live in.”
“No.” She cuts him off and then she’s moving closer to Charles as Pierre looks at her in confusion, interlacing their fingers and he can’t help but squeeze her hand. “Charles and I are together. We got married just three days ago and I’m pregnant.”
Charles makes another choked noise at her words. This is not at all what they had talked about. Her words, quiet, calm, but sure. And it’s now he realizes that’s placed herself in front of him as best as she can without being in his lap.
“What?”
Charles watches as some of her confidence leaves her and finally he is able to speak.
“We are together, Pierre. We found out about the baby two weeks ago.”
“Don’t speak to me, Charles.” He snaps, his eyes not leaving his sister's face. “What do you mean?”
Charles feels more than hears the shuddering breath she takes and he squeezes her hand, reassuring her as best as he can. “Pierre,” She takes another breath. “Charles and me began seeing each other. We didn’t mean for it to happen, but I ended up pregnant.”
Charles has never been so happy for all the PR training that Ferrari put him through. Perhaps she hadn’t meant to get pregnant, but he had.
“You two started seeing each other.” He says the words blankly.
She nods. “Remember how my girlfriends and I came to Monaco to celebrate my birthday early?”
Pierre gives a jerky nod.
“I ran into Charles while out on the second night, we wanted to talk, but he had a meeting, so we agreed to meet the next day for breakfast. And then we kept running into each other, kept going places together.”
It’s impressive how easy she lies to Pierre, slight stutters to her words, but she’s always done that when nervous.
“And you got married because you are pregnant?”
“Yes, but I love him, Pierre. And Charles loves me.”
He has to resist kissing her, saying that of course he does.
“I need to speak with Charles alone.”
“Pierre.”
“No, I need to speak to him.”
She looks at Charles, so clearly worried and he smiles at her, pressing his lips to her temple. “I will be okay, petit.” He hears Pierre suck in a breath at the name. “Go.” He murmurs.
She looks between them, bottom lip between her teeth, but nods. “Okay.”
Both men watch as she leaves the room, waiting to hear the sound of a door clicking shut before Charles finally looks back at Pierre.
“I can’t even be mad at you.” The words are hollow, but Pierre’s face is twisted.
“You can.”
He lets out a laugh, hand running over his face. “No, I can’t. I can’t even be disappointed or fucking surprised.” He spits out the last two words.
“If I get angry at you, I’d have to be angry with myself. The age difference between you two is just as much between Kika and I.”
Charles blinks at the words, having forgotten.
“And I had hoped that you wouldn’t do anything, you’d keep your distance, but I knew at some point you’d finally give into something you wanted for yourself. I thought it would be at least after you won a championship, but last year was a lot.”
“What?” Charles breathes, confused, not understanding.
Pierre rolls his eyes, leaning back in the armchair. “You thought she was pretty. I realized it as soon as you did. It wasn’t easy to miss the way your eyes stayed on her for a solid minute when you finally saw her again in 2021.”
“But you,”
“Charles.” Pierre stops him, shakes his head, already knowing what he is going to say. “Of course I didn’t say anything, I didn’t need to. It’s you. And you kept your distance after that. Didn’t attempt to get closer or contact her. I didn’t need to worry.”
Charles nods, it was fair. Pierre hadn’t needed to worry at that time. It was only after she turned eighteen that perhaps he should have worried.
“You said you knew I’d finally give in. Wanting something for myself.”
Pierre looks at him, eyes boring into his and he almost fidgets. “Everything you do is for Ferrari, your family, your friends. You don’t let yourself have anything you want unless it’s also for them. You’d have to be blind and stupid to not notice. And you and her grew closer before last year’s season started. It felt more like a matter of time. I had figured that it would be after you won a championship. She would be a little older. Not married and pregnant at twenty.”
Charles winces at his words. “Pierre.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, you wouldn’t mean it.”
“No, I could never regret her or the baby, but I can apologize for not talking to you.”
Pierre chuckles, tension leaving his shoulders fully, and it’s a bit surreal to see considering how Charles thought this was going to go. “I could have talked to you as well. Or to her. Really, that’s who I should have talked to. She’s rarely been told no.”
“She never asks enough to be told no.”
Pierre grins at him and the sight of it, makes him relax, “We might actually be able to spoil her, the two of us working together.”
He grins, leaning forward and dropping his voice. “The baby works as a perfect excuse. She tried telling me there was enough space for the three of us and Leo. All it took was me mentioning that the baby should have a nicer room and she folded.”
He gives a small whistle. “I’ll remember that.”
“Please. She is trying to convince me to let her help pay for something.”
He scoffs. “Like that would happen.”
“I told her she could buy groceries.”
Pierre raises an eyebrow.
“I slipped money back in her purse.” He admits, smiling when Pierre laughs, shaking his head.
“She’s going to kill us both.”
“Probably.” Charles laughs, thinking of how she had already tried to get him to stop buying her things.
“Charles.” Pierre is serious again. “Don’t hurt her. If you do, it won’t go like this.”
“I know. And I won’t. I’m in love with her, Pierre.”
“I know.” He reminds him, as he stands up, and Charles does as well. “It’s the only reason you don’t have a broken nose.”
“Only a broken nose?”
“And some cracked ribs.” He admits, smiling and it shouldn’t, but it makes Charles laugh.
“My nose and ribs thank you for your restraint.”
He rolls his eyes. “Sure, now c’mon. We are getting lunch and then shopping. I want to buy the baby its first thing.”
Charles winces at the words, and Pierre rolls his eyes again. “Of course. Fine, first thing not from its parents.”
“You know that Lorenzo will probably be favorite uncle, right?”
“Fuck that, I’ve got more experience than him and am cool.”
