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deactivated072320241242 · 6 months

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—𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞—

pairing. ex! Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary. in a day you simply wanted peace, two unexpected visitors showed up. for one of them, you were glad.

warnings. smut! I am NOT responsible for your content consumption! — making out, thigh riding, strap on usage, cursing, angst (w happy ending), soft dom Nat.

notes. my first language is portuguese, so I apologize for any grammar errors. feel free to give me advice, though!

divider credits: @cafekitsune ★

Natasha Romanoff was known as a cold, ruthless woman, who never cared for anyone besides herself. Most of the people didn't know this was due her past — the Red Room was always in complete secrecy, so they feared her. She was already used to it. Whenever she started something with someone, in the next day, she had an empty bed as a gift. To be completely honest, she always felt used. Men and women touched her, to leave her in the morning.

That changed when she met you.

You could say you'd changed her completely, for the best, of course. She became more open with you, learned to express herself better and was not known as the most selfish Avenger in the team anymore.

But just like people say, not everything is a bed of roses.

Instead of using that achievement to improve your relationship, she began to care a little too much about her team of superheroes. At some point, she was no longer paying attention to you.

Reports this, reports that. Missions and more missions. "I have to go somewhere with Cap." "I have to train with Tony to a mission." "I can't, I'll have to go with Clint."

When you confronted her about this, begging for her to understand and willing to help her change, she decided that it was a better option to part ways. You were devasted, and she saw it. That made her heart ache — someone actually lov— liked her enough to want to stay.

This was the one and only reason Natasha didn't forget about you. The only reason she thought about you everyday. The only reason she teared up whenever entering her car and seeing the polaroid with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on her rearview mirror, that she didn't dare to take down.

Today, you were leaving work, heavy tired steps echoing on the pavement's wooden floor as the moonlight illuminated the room. The building was already empty, the streets, darker than your thoughts.

As you started walking to the nearest bus stop, you heard quick footsteps behind you — it was already late and usually there was no people on the streets like this. You turned your head, "you gotta be kidding me".

"Hey, Y/n!" Peter exclaimed, running to catch up with you. "I didn't know you were going to be here at 11:30pm."

You rolled your eyes and took a sharp inhale, but like always, tried to be polite. This so called coworker of yours was always looking at you, following you everywhere, and asking you things, not always work-related. You always made it clear that you weren't interested in men, and he insisted on saying he could 'change your mind'.

"Hey, Peter." you replied, faking a smile and nodding. "You need me to review your documents again?"

"Oh, no. I was just wondering if you wanna go on a date with me. Did you see the restaurant that just opened over there? I could treat you to—"

"No, I don't." you cut him off, more harshly than you intended to. "Look, Peter, I'm sorry. But I don't want anything to do with you, alright? So if you want, go ahead and find somebody else."

You shook your head, not even waiting for his reply and picking up the pace again, quickly rushing to the bus stop. That's when the guy showed you a side that you just suspected, but preferred to believe he didn't have

"C'mon, Y/n." he grabbed your arm, nails digging into your skin. "You won't broke my heart, will you? You're such a gentle, beautiful, kind woman. You will give me a chance."

You cleared your throat, feeling him get closer, and thinking about a certain Red Head — how she would gently, delicately graze your skin with her fingers, so softly whispering into your ear and bringing you to her embrace—

"Back off."

"Oh, no." he laughed. Such a creep. "I won't back off. And if you don't cooperate, I'll make you give me a chance."

Your hands trembled now, silently praying to whoever was seeing this just call the cops or do something. You didn't know the guy anyway. He didn't talk to anyone at work beside you, and you never got to know him, you would never. That's when it would be a good use to have a spy girlfriend. Just the last thing you expected to happen was to hear the sound of a gun cocking behind you, and a very familiar female voice.

"She said back off."

Relief unconsciously washed upon you as your arm was released, only because of the gun, though. You knew that if if wasn't for her, who knows what could've happened there. Peter left, annoyed, but the Russian swore to herself that she'd make his life a living hell.

"... Natasha?" you whisper, turning around with a confused and even scared frown.

"Yes," she worriedly rubbed your arm, shooting you, slowly making the feeling of the disgusting hand fade away. "Are you okay?"

"I am..." you nodded subtly, leaning into her touch. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I saw a woman being harassed. What was I supposed to do? Mind my business?" she said, obviously avoiding your question.

"You know this is not what I mean." you frowned, carefully letting go of her caress and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Natasha sighed, trying to think of a way to explain herself. 'Oh, I'm here because I miss you so much I can't even sleep anymore.'? No, it wouldn't do.

"I... followed you."

"Oh, great, so I'm being stalked twice today." you hissed, making Natasha look down with your harshness.

"No, Y/n.. I'm here for.. personal reasons. I saw you leaving work, and I noticed that guy following you. I decided to follow too, until he grabbed you and I knew I had to intervine." she explained quietly.

The fact she had said 'personal reasons' deeply hurt you, but you couldn't do anything, you had broken up after all. You nodded, and prepared yourself to walk tp the bus stop again.

"Wait," Natasha quickly stopped you, her eyebrows furrowed. "I won't let you go home like this."

This was something about the old Natasha you knew, the protective one. It was okay, you were tired, and a ride would be no harm. "Where's your getaway car?"

She smiled softly at your joke, and tilted her head. "Around the corner."

You two walked silently towards the vehicle, as she unlocked the doors with the keys and you entered the passenger seat. You threw your bag on the backseat before you could focus on the environment around you, and see the polaroid of you and Nat with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on the rearview mirror.

Natasha noticed your gaze as soon as she entered the driver seat, clearing her throat and starting the car's engine. "Couldn't bring myself to take those down."

You stayed silent, but your eyes could tell everything. I'm glad. Oh, I'm so glad.

Natasha remembered your address as if you hadn't broken up nine months ago, and when you reached your place, you too much disappointed for your own good.

"Thank you for the lift," you whispered, turning your body to be able to grab your bag from the backseat — in the exact same moment Natasha turned to unbuckle her seatbelt — your fronts touching, which made you two a little startled.

The problem was that you didn't pull away, neither of you. You slowly turned your head to meet Natasha's gaze, your face so close to hers you could feel her breath. Familiar. It was pure instinct, almost muscle memory, of the times she always kissed you goodbye when dropping you somewhere.

You didn't even notice your hand going up to hold the back of her neck, much less when she placed her hand on your thigh, and leaned in so your noses brushed. Natasha closed her eyes for a brief moment, almost savouring your closeness, your aura enveloping her once more. Then your lips barely, barely grazed, breath hitching, as she couldn't take it anymore.

The redhead pressed her lips against yours, giving them a long peck. It was surprising how much time you lasted without air. You didn't break the kiss, just darted the tip of your tongue out to lick her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She gave in, trying to pull you closer but being stopped by the goddamn control panel. As soon as you felt her tongue touching yours you realized that this was going too far. You pulled back harshly, leaving you two panting for air and a disappointed Nat.

"Do you..." you shakily breathed. "... wanna come in?"

"Mhm." Natasha hummed, turning off the engine. "Can I?"

You didn't answer, just opened the door and slipped out the car. As you entered, you could practically feel Natasha's eyes burning the place. How you didn't take down any picture of yours. How her stuff was spreading across the pavement. It gave her a sense of... hope? Of course, since she was in the same situation.

"So.. are you seeing anyone?" you asked her while kicking off your heels and leaving them by the door.

"I think you know the answer for that." the redhead practically hissed, making your head snap towards her.

"But I want you to say it." you retreated. "I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn't forget me. I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me the reason of why you came to my town again and followed me when I left work. I want you to tell me the reason of why you kissed me just like we always did before."

"I didn't! I didn't forget you, Y/n!" Natasha snapped, looking away and tucking the loosen strands of hair of her braids behind her ears. "I didn't forget you and I never did. Alright? Happy now?"

"Is that so?" you laughed humorlessly, crossing your arms. "I thought you cared more about your superheroes buddies. Where are they now!?"

"I left them." Natasha replied, looking at you again with a mixture of anger and pain. "I left them and came back, to you, Y/n."

You froze at her words, swallowing your saliva. "... okay?"

"I came back here, because I wanted to at least a chance to explain myself. I wouldn't be able to live knowing that I hurt you, and that you think that I did it on purpose. So please, just give me a chance."

"...go on."

Natasha sighed in relief, exhaling the air she was holding. "I'm sure you know my story. You were the first one to know everything about it, about me. And I'm also sure you know you're the first one to ever love me. No one else ever loved me like you did."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, listening carefully to her words, ready to give her time and patience, like you usually did.

"... I didn't know what I was doing, Y/n. Every other relationship I had, ended in less than a week. Love is a weapon and it's letal for me, for people like me. I was, I am startled by all of this, by this fuzzy warm feeling that you always gave me, that you still do, in my thoughts.. the Avengers were my first family, and when I panicked, I tried to hang on to them. In order not to hurt you, and myself." she didn't even realize the tear rolling down her cheek, and shook her head. "That's it. I'm sorry for everything, but Y/n, you will always have a piece— you'll always have my whole heart in your hands. I'll get off your hair n—"

You couldn't. Not anymore. You rushed towards her and grabbed her face, cutting her off with a deep kiss. She was taking aback, but her hands traveled to your waist, pulling you flush against her, your fronts pressing. Nothing changed. Natasha pushed you backwards against your room's door, her tongue entering your mouth and dancing with yours. You could feel yourself getting lost in her, damn it, once more. It was like she had this spell on you — you were trapped, and didn't complain.

"Y/n," the russian uttered, hands slipping inside your shirt and giving your waist a squeeze. "I've got to have you again, at least for one last time. Please, just this once—"

Tired of her rambling, you smirked and grabbed her by the jacket, pulling her into a kiss again and dragging her into the room, slamming the door shut. Natasha took this as a 'yes', and her hands, under you shirt, went to unclasp your bra, making it fall to the ground and a groan of relief escape your throat. Before she could remove the rest of the fabric of your body, you stopped her, pushing her down to the bed.

"I always wanted to do that," you started to slowly, so slow that it almost tortured her take off your clothes, stripteasing for her.

"Shit, Y/n." she quickly started to get rid off her jacket, snd everything else she was wearing. You were careful not to trip on the pile of clothes on the floor, and walked over to her again, straddling her leg on the edge of the bed.

Natasha's hand grabbed your hips roughly, keeping you in place and it didn't take two seconds before you started to grind on her. "Nat," you breathed, arms going to circle her neck.

"Who else touched you like this while I was away?" she growled in your ear, pressing your body against hers. "Answer me,"

"No one," you whined, giving her a subtle shake of your head. "No one, Natty. J-just myself,"

"My poor girl," Nat began to roam her hands up your sides, her lips pressing kisses on your jawline, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help,"

"You're here now..!" you gasped, your movements faster, as she began to move her thigh to stimulate you more.

"And I don't plan on going away," Natasha murmured, tilting your head to look at her in the eyes. Even in your high, you could make sense of her words, and the weight they beared.

"Nat!" you moaned, closing your eyes shut. "I need... please.. I—I need you, inside me."

Natasha almost lost her mind with that, grabbing your hips and pinning you down to the bed. She reached her arm out for the drawer that she hoped your strap still was, and luckily, she was right. "I'm gonna fuck you like never before, Y/n." she attached the silicone cock to her hips with urgency, holding your hips in place as she ran the tip of it across your folds, making you whine in need.

"Don't tease me," you gently gripped her arms on your hips and looked at her with dreamy eyes. She couldn't resist — but your walls were so tight she had to put a little effort to enter you.

"Holy fuck, baby." she moved her hand to brush your hair behind your ear, giving you a little time to get used to the length. "So fucking tight for me,"

"I—" you breathed, interrupted when Nat started to slowly move in and out you, her red hair falling into your face. You moaned, putting her hair up in a makeshift ponytail and with your free hand, holding her neck. "God, I missed you,"

Natasha pounded faster in you with those words, your moans only getting louder by the second. She grabbed one of your legs and placed it over her shoulder, allowing her to hit your g-spot repeatedly. You thumb went to your mouth, wetting it and starting to rub her clit — she couldn't say she expected that, her soft moans saying everything.

"Cum with me," you breathlessly requested, eyes fluttering close. Natasha didn't have to be asked twice. Her hips slammed into yours, the wet sounds of her thrusting echoing the room. "Natty!"

You back arched, head thrown backwards as your orgasm hit you. Natasha's legs shook, her weight falling onto you and your arms immediately wrapping around her, keeping her close.

"Don't make me go away,"

"I could never."

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cilikcurious · 2 years

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HOW THIS LANGUAGE WORKS?

I had a great idea for a spell for my ocs but the last line is off and I am look poetry stuff to se if I cab fix it

BUT I AM SO CONFUSED, I CAN'T UNDERSTAND THIS

Like I can see the concepts of foot and meter but, like, I am struggling with telling witch syllable is the stressed one

It's me, I am the stressed syllable

I can't write the LAST LINE

#I don't understand how this language works #I like my portuguese #where you can tell the tonic syllable by the way is written #even if I never had seen the word I can say what the tonic is #but ENGLISH ?#I just sit on the corner and cry

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moonydustx · 5 months

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how they would react to F!Reader saying she's pregnant but with Shanks, Rayleigh and Law?

Oi oi! Turu bem? Vou deixar até o comecinho da resposta em português porque sim hahahahah primeiro, obrigada pelo pedido e segundo, eu acho que me empolguei escrevendo de novo, sou inimiga do resumo. O do Ray acho que pode ter ficado um pouco confuso porque tentei usar as duas eras (como pode ele ser tãão saborosíssimo toda vez que aparece, af). Mas é isso, obrigadão e espero que goste <3

And here’s the translation of the day: Hey Hey! How are you? I'll even leave the beginning of the answer in portuguese because yes hahahahah (for those who don't understand PT-BR, I discovered that the requester is brazilian like me) firstly, thank you for the request and secondly, I think I got carried away writing again. I think Ray's might have been a little confusing because I tried to use both eras (how can he be so delicious every time he appears, haha). But that's it, thank you and I hope you like it <3

Oh, and hello @badlandsx! I'm tagging you here because I saw your request about Law, but don't worry, I'll soon write the other part that you also requested. Thank you <3

requests open | one piece masterlist (other pregnancy stories are here)

Warnings are place individually in each story.

Rayleigh

Warnings: mentions of new and old Ray, like I said I love them both. Buggy and Shanks kids are one of my favorite things about Roger's era, so we have them here. Mention to F!Reader being an herbalist. Brief not-so-canonical mention of Sabaody's arc.

Acid temperament, answers on the tip of the tongue, a captivating smile. Rayleigh didn't have much of an option but to fall in love at first sight when you two bumped into each other in a random bar on a random island. It didn't matter anymore when he managed to convince you to be part of the crew. Your knowledge of herbs and medicines was just an excuse he used to get the captain to accept - and Roger knew Silvers Rayleigh enough to know it was just a pretext for you to get on board.

It didn't take long for the glances exchanged and toasts proposed to turn into hidden moments at Oro Jackson, kisses stolen when others weren't looking, that turned into a golden ring around your finger. Now, such moments had turned into a new life being generated in you.

"You should stay less agitated for now, please." Crocus asked. You had come up with a lame excuse for him to stay on the ship with you while the others had disembarked. "By my reckoning, these are still the first few months, it's the most sensitive period. Any more aggressive activity can bring risks."

"You will die?" Buggy's squeaky voice caught the two of you's attention. When you found the spot where the boy was hiding, you saw Shanks cover his companion's mouth.

"Nothing like that, come here." you leaned on the counter, calling out to the two who soon stopped in front of you. "How much of our conversation did you hear?"

"That you don't really know what to do, and that you need to be less agitated and that you're sensitive." Shanks took the lead, listing, Buggy came further behind, eyes attentive to your every movement.

The two boys already saw you almost as a motherly figure, always trying to hide and lean on you whenever they got into trouble, of course they would be scared to hear such loose information.

"I'll trust you two, but I want you both to keep your mouth shut." you bent down to his level. "I'm pregnant, but it's too early for anyone to know, okay?"

"Pregnant?" they both screamed and you covered their mouths. Further behind you, Crocus was deliberately laughing at the two boys' reactions. "Does that mean it's the baby that's hurting you?" Buggy completed.

"No one was hurt." the doctor took the lead, explaining to both of them. "A pregnant woman requires more care and is also more sensitive. Well, you knowing this can be of great help."

"What do you mean by that?" Just like you, the boys seemed to have doubt written all over their faces.

"Someone here loves to get into trouble, until Rayleigh finds out and can keep an eye on you, you two are responsible for it. No fights, no crazy adventures, no almost anything." the man laughed when he saw your indignant expression.

"I promise to keep her and the baby safe." Shanks puffed out his chest, taking pride in what he had said.

"What? I promise more than him." Buggy grumbled.

"As long as you both promise to keep quiet, that's fine with me."

When the two youngest saluted, you knew you were screwed.

It was difficult to disguise such a situation when in the following days the two of them became your shadow. The only time you could see yourself alone was going to the bathroom. If you went to your little corner to work, one of the two would be sitting next to you, following everything you explained to them - since they were there, they would learn something. In day-to-day tasks, one of them always set out to do his part. Rayleigh was already finding their little movement strange, but he knew how attached you were to both of them, so it wasn't something that bothered him.

"I'm going to take advantage of the fact that it's our last day here and I'm going to go down to the village, I need to get some materials." you announced. "Does anyone need anything?"

"Everything's fine here." Gaban warned and one by one, the other companions agreed.

"Wait!" a panting Buggy ran across the boat. "I'll go with you."

"Get out you fool, I'll go." Shanks shouted from the other side.

"Come on, the three of you, what do you think?" you suggested, before his little fight escalated.

"You two don't think you're stealing much of my wife's attention, do you?" Rayleigh proposed, seeing the two swallow hard and deny it. "Alright, enjoy the little walk."

It was supposed to be a quick visit to the island, if the boys didn't decide to start trouble with one of the sellers, you got in the middle and now you were lying on your ass on the floor - in the pushing and shoving, there ended up being a push for you while arguing with the seller . Before you could calm the boys down, you saw them running towards the ship, shit.

Rayleigh's attention was stolen when he saw the two crew members rushing into the Oro Jackson. Buggy burst into tears and insults directed at his friend, while Shanks seemed to be looking for someone specific. You, however, were not with them. It didn't take much to connect the facts.

"Where is she?" He approached the kids, completely ignoring them. "What happened?"

"A tragedy." Buggy, dramatically, started crying even more.

"You idiot! We can't tell them anything." Shanks poked Buggy, who immediately retaliated with a push.

"Crocus said we should keep an eye on her and now she's fallen and is going to die!"

"She fell?" Rayleigh was already impatient with their drama, unable to find any connection in their grumbling. "Explain this properly."

"It was just a fall, nothing big." the redhead tried to alleviate the situation.

"Boys, it was just a fall, she's definitely gotten herself into bigger trouble." Roger laughed, watching the two boys pushing each other.

"I don't want to know. Where's Crocus?" Buggy grumbled, ignoring the captain's own laughter and his friend's false calm temperament.

"What kind of fall was that for you two to be so worried about?" Rayleigh held out his hands, pushing the two boys apart by their foreheads.

"This idiot went looking for a fight." Shanks tried to reach the clown, stopped by the first mate's hand.

"And this idiot who doesn't know how to keep his tongue in his mouth." Buggy fought back, only hitting the air.

"First she said we were supposed to be quiet."

"You knock down a pregnant woman and I'm the one who has to stay quiet!" The words that came out of Buggy were able to provoke silence among the other pirates. "Shit!"

"She's going to kill us man."

"Where is she?" Crocus appeared, stopping in front of the boys and an astonished Rayleigh. "How did she fall? What's all that crying, Buggy?"

"Is she the pregnant woman?" Rayleigh asked in a much calmer tone than usual.

The hands were now no longer used to separate the boys, they just hung beside his body. Seeing the two kids swallow hard and look at each other, Rayleigh no longer needed any more answers.

"Rayleigh, Crocus go to her, now." Even with Roger's orders, Rayleigh was already heading in the direction of leaving the boat, not worrying about who would follow him.

Upon entering the village, it didn't take many steps for them to find you - only then did Rayleigh notice the doctor's presence. What was strange was finding you still lying on the floor, your elbows propped up to keep your face up while you were still arguing with the man in front of you. You didn't look hurt, you just looked mad at the man.

"It was just some herbs!" you shouted, excited.

"You idiot! If it was just some herbs, you should pay." the man shouted back.

Before you could respond, a body appeared in front of you and you didn't need much to recognize that it was your husband.

"What is happening?" his patient voice asked, looking at you over his shoulder. "I see that you seem to have problems with my wife."

"You see, she allowed two boys to steal herbs from my store."

"That is true?" he turned to you, finding a wry smile. Your permissiveness with the boys would still kill him. "How much does she owe you?"

The man spoke and almost as if predicting the problem, Crocus threw some coins to Rayleigh, who handed them to the man. A few seconds later, they were both around you.

"Did you get hurt?" the doctor asked, seeing your eyes dart from his to your husband's. "Buggy accidentally told him that little secret."

"Shit." your grumble was low, in a way you avoided looking at Rayleigh. "Maybe I spent my money buying some sweets for the three of us, but I needed those herbs too." you list, feeling your face burn with guilt and shame.

"Do you feel any pain?" Rayleigh asked, his voice almost forcing you to face him. Without finding words, you just denied it. "Great. Let's go back to the ship."

Crocus supported you by the waist and as soon as you stood up, you bitterly regretted having denied the question your husband had asked. The excruciating pain that shot up from your foot made you scream and fall forward, being held by Rayleigh.

"I was wrong, so wrong, what the hell." you grumbled, taking your aching foot off the ground. "It fucking hurts, it really hurts, Ray, do something." your teary eyes searched for his, who looked attentively in your direction.

"First I need you to calm down, sweetheart." he asked, wrapping his arm around you and providing even more support. "Crocus, what do we have?"

"Let me see." he bent down again, finding a swollen ankle. "It could just be a sprain or it could be broken, let's go back and that way I can see calmly."

"Go ahead, I'll take her."

The doctor took a few steps away and the two of you remained there for a few seconds, until Rayleigh took you in his arms and took you back to the ship. You knew he wanted to tell you something, but you also knew that that wasn't the appropriate place.

Before you could receive the necessary medical attention, you needed to calm both boys down. Maybe the explanation you and Crocus gave the two of them earlier had been too much for them to think that a little fight would bring you down. Rayleigh ushered them both out and closed the door behind him.

"When were you thinking of telling me?" he asked, still distant.

"To be honest, I still don't know." a light laugh escaped your lips. "They both found out by accident, hearing me talk to Crocus."

"I still can't believe those little idiots found out before me." his expression softened as he approached you.

"Are you mad at me?" His hands circled your waist, pulling you to the middle of the bed.

He gently created space for himself between your legs, taking care to place your bandaged ankle to the side. The fierce kisses this time were replaced by some caresses along your lap, some quick kisses on your lips.

"Furious?" His smile floated to your forehead, turning into a small kiss. "I just found out that the woman I love most is about to bear me a child. How can I be furious with such good news?"

His mouth once again met yours and despite the softness in which your tongues tangled, the gentle touch of his hand sliding down your side - curious fingers floating over the fabric on your belly - before your dress found a different path than your body, a small external noise caught the attention of both of you.

"Sure." Rayleigh pulled away just enough, allowing you to still feel his breath against yours. "You know it's Roger who's waiting, don't you?"

"Yeah." you laughed, seeing him groan as he let go of you.

"And that he's about to come out screaming with joy" he asked again and you nodded, trying to adjust yourself in bed and hide any evidence of what was about to happen.

Rayleigh barely opened the wooden door and Roger followed by other companions entered, a smile from ear to ear.

"A child!" He pulled you from the bed, hugging you tightly. "Another crewmate for us! This is incredible, get ready today we're going to drink, we're going to celebrate."

"Oi! She can't drink." Rayleigh pointed out and saw Roger let go of you a little and then hug you tightly again.

"Then let's eat, eat a lot. I'm going to order an incredible feast!"

If before your concern was to escape the needy and attentive claws of Buggy and Shanks, now the two boys seemed to have found company. Your other companions - being practically led by Rayleigh made you feel adorable all the time. Even with your hormones screaming at the top of your skin, even with all the strange desires and the constant need to be attached to your husband, everyone seemed to be ready and happy to see you pregnant. Rayleigh felt proud and a little overprotective of you, no wonder, since you had already returned to the boat covered in blood that didn't belong to you just because someone had tried to rob you or when you almost convinced Roger to loot a village because you wanted cakes from a bakery that was closed when you docked. You still preferred to stick to your herbs, but that didn't mean you were harmless.

Little Arthur came into the world calmly and quickly, as if everything was meticulously planned for him to arrive on that peaceful afternoon. Even though you were still uncomfortable and tired after giving birth, you couldn't contain your laughter when you saw the two youngest members of the crew fighting over who would pick up the little one first. Knowing the affection and care attached to you, you proudly allowed the two of you to carry the title of little Arth's uncles - provoking yet another argument over who was the favorite.

The bonds between you and Rayleigh became even tighter after the birth of Arth and, shortly after, little Dalia. A few years after the gang broke up and Roger was executed and on that day, you and your husband stepped back from the role of parents and allowed yourselves to cry on each other's shoulders. The tears of pain at the loss of Roger soon turned to missing your eldest son, a fruit doesn't fall far from the tree and of course, Arth never let you two tell him everything you knew, he would find a crew so that together they could find the One Piece.

The door to your house opened and you saw a familiar face enter. A mother knows very well what each child's traits could bring and when you saw an almost identical copy of Rayleigh rush through the door, you knew it was your boy back. He had finally found a crew - one that carried a straw hat familiar to the one you knew.

"What?" the voice of his companions shouted in unison as Rayleigh properly introduced the two of you.

"You mean you know everything?" Usopp turned to Arth, who just shook his head. "Oh, that's a lot of information at once."

"We never told him anything." you explained, holding your third child in your arms, a girl who had just turned four years old.

"You said your parents were pirates, but you never specified which ones." Luffy pointed out, his mouth full of food.

"My parents already had their time, now they have other priorities." Arth took little Lure from you, the girl's laugh echoed throughout the room. "Just like this little one here."

"You only have these two children?" Nami asked, interested in the difference between you and Rayleigh to the white-haired child.

"In fact, only Dalia and Arth were born to me. Ray saved our little Lure from being sold to those damn nobles. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to save her family, but we took it upon ourselves to take care of her."

"And Dalia is also a pirate?"

"Not for now, but she's on an island with some of our friends, training." you simply informed, seeing that Arth had understood the message.

That same day, you saw your son disappear before your eyes, into the hands of the tyrant Kuma. Luffy looked desolate and you followed suit, both screams echoing through the damp Sabaody forest. Only when Rayleigh managed to drag you back home did you understand that your boy would be far away, safer and according to Kuma himself, with someone you both would trust with your eyes closed.

Almost two years have passed since Rayleigh took on a mission and left you alone on the island, taking care of what was left behind.

"Father?" Lure's voice caught your attention. At the door, Rayleigh crouched down, waiting for the white-haired girl to jump towards him.

"My sweetie you are so huge!" he let the girl hang onto him, filling the top of her head with kisses. "If I took a little longer, you'd be bigger than me."

"I missed you so much." she clung to Rayleigh, who was walking towards you. "Mommy too."

"I bet she felt it too." With one of his free hands, he circled your waist, lightly kissing your lips. "I hope two of my favorite girls are okay."

"Dad, did you know that Uncle Duval asked Mom to stay with him?" The girl laughed at the little gossip told, earning a reprimanding look from you, even if it was a joke.

"Uncle Duval, hm? I'll have a little talk with him." Rayleigh placed her on the floor, yet the girl remained there beside you, paying attention to everything.

"Just a friend of the Straw Hats, we took care of Sunny while you were gone. I even tried to start the plating, but I'd rather focus on my teas." You explained, allowing yourself to hug him completely. "How are things over there?"

"By things, do you talk about our Dalia?"

"Perhaps." the passive tone in your voice became even calmer when your face was buried in his chest. "I miss my little girl."

"She promised to come soon and she's doing great, she's been one of Kikyo's right-hand men. She's so strong, you'll be proud." he felt you nod against his skin, the distance of two years seemed too far for a quick hug to satisfy. "Want to know about Arth?"

"Have you heard from him?"

"Is little brother Arth coming?" Lure clung to Rayleigh's leg, watching her father. Even without the blood connection, the black king found it comical to say the least how similar you two had become.

"Not yet, my dear. And I haven't heard from him exactly, but rather where he is." Rayleigh began to explain, meeting your curious eyes. "I only received a small note."

He took it out and handed you the small crumpled paper. The tranquility that had been missing for two years invaded you as you read each word.

I hope this reaches you and your wife, Rayleigh-san. Knowing her, I believe she is distraught over Arth's disappearance. He has been training with me and I promise that I will keep that old promise to keep him safe. No clumsy clowns this time.

Shanks.

Shanks

warnings: F!Reader and Shanks don't have a fixed relationship at the beginning of the story, F!Reader has a restaurant. Maybe wrong use of haki, brief spicier section and brief mentions of childbirth. Shanks is an adorable girl dad here. Emony, in some language that I don't remember, is a name related to treasure.

"When are you going to go to sea with me?"

That question had already been repeated countless times every day that Shanks decided to stop at your restaurant. He always made up a little excuse that his crew was hungry and that no other place in that city would be able to fulfill his orders. He repeated every time you served dishes wearing the apron he said made you look amazing, every time he convinced you to stop working for a bit and share a dish with him, every time he was on top of you. you on the bed, as you asked for more and more.

However, every time the answer was the same.

"Give me a good reason red-haired, one other than me ending up in your bed, and I will."

You had already lost track of the times he did this, that he asked and you refused, that you shared hours together and the next morning he left you to return a few months later. This time however, it was difficult to lose track of time, as with each passing day, you discovered a change in your body. It started with irritability, then the aching body, nausea and finally, the positive test on your hand and your shocked family right behind you.

The whole city already knew that you were the redhead's favorite person and at that point, no one dared to mess with you or insinuate anything. Knowing how quickly rumors could spread, you chose to keep it a secret until it became impossible. The secret only lasted four months before his jolly roger appears on the horizon. Already knowing the routine he used to have on the island, you prepared yourself to soon find him entering the door.

"Finally, my favorite cook." his voice hit you before you even saw him. "Long time no see you."

"Yeah, it's been a while." out of habit, you allowed his hand to hug your waist, but you tried not to tighten yourself too much in his embrace.

"Everything is fine?" he asked, noticing your more distant behavior.

"Yeah, it's just been a busy day. What can I get you guys?"

"What's good on the menu today?" Lucky Roux asked, his typical piece of meat at hand had already reached its end.

"A fish stew, we also have some pies. Did you bring any new recipes for me?" You reached out to him.

Since the first time you met the red-haired pirates, you and him had gotten along well and the little deal was that he would always bring new recipes and in return, he was the only one who didn't pay at your family's restaurant.

"Spicy noodles and oysters with honey." he stretched out the two papers in his hand. "Two recipes, two dishes."

"Okay, you win. Anyone else want some stew?" the men piled in, affirming yes. Before you could leave, you felt Shanks' hand grab yours.

"Wait a second." a chill passed through your body as his eyes analyzed you. "You look different, I don't know. It's like you're even more beautiful."

"Don't give me those cheap lines, redhead." you warned in your playful tone. "A stew for you too?"

"The day I deny this could rip my other arm off."

Like the other times they appeared there, Shanks and the others stayed almost the entire day. Much of the food at that point had already been replaced by drinks, which forced you to practically dodge the glasses that were offered to you.

The restaurant was already empty, even your brothers who used to help you had already left, leaving you alone with the leftover dishes and tables to organize for the next day.

"It doesn't seem very gentlemanly to me to leave a lady alone." Again, just like that afternoon, you saw Shanks enter the door, ignoring the "closed" sign.

"You don't need to worry about me, I'll sort it out in a few minutes." You gave your best smile, seeing that he wasn't convinced.

"Then I can help you solve something else."

Not giving you much room to deny it or to at least try to address the issue that was hovering between the two of you, Shanks revoked his right over your mouth. Amidst the scattered tables and trying to turn off the light in the room so as not to attract so much attention, you went unnoticed by his hands taking off your apron and immediately undoing the buttons on your t-shirt. When the piece became a small puddle of fabric on the floor next to your apron and Shanks slid his hand down your torso, you realized that he had indeed noticed.

"What is that?" his voice was low, even though there were just the two of you there.

"I think you're smarter than that, redhead." you tried to alleviate the situation, seeing that it had been in vain.

"It's mine?" His eyes met yours, his serious expression made chills run up your body. Shanks was adorable, one of the kindest people you'd ever served at your restaurant, but he was still a pirate. "Hey, look at me, is it mine?"

"What do you think?" you responded immediately, seeing him take a few steps back. "I found out a few weeks after you left here last time, so far it's been easy to hide with dresses and aprons, but it looks like it won't last long."

"So it's mine?" he insisted, making you huff in frustration.

"The last time you came here, I remember you making me scream a few times that I was yours. I am a woman of my word, there is no one else who is the father of this baby but you."

His expression soon contorted from something serious to a slight smile that turned into a loud laugh. His hand found your face, stroking it with some delicacy.

"You told me you needed a good reason to leave with me." he started, seeing you already look disbelieved. "And no, I don't want you just in my bed. I want you by my side, forever. I want you to leave with me so I can make you my wife. To make you the mother of all my children." his hand reached down and caressed the bump on your belly. "This explains so much."

"So much, tomato head?" You let your hand rest on top of his, enjoying the affection.

"Your bad mood when you saw my face or you refusing to drink with me." He approached, pressing his face to yours. "You look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

"Shanks…"

"Please say yes."

He used that entire night to convince you to go on board with him and the next morning to help you pack your bags and head to his ship. When the other companions saw your face, they were in disbelief for a while until the true reason for your presence was explained, to everyone's delight.

For a moment, it was too much information for your head, learning a little about the life of a pirate, understanding what Shanks was like as a captain and the changes in your body seemed too much for you. It wasn't surprising that you had practically hijacked the ship's kitchen all to yourself and it was very common to find you in the early hours of the morning, up to something.

"What's the recipe for today, mummy?" Shanks appeared, his face still crumpled indicating that he had just woken up from a good sleep.

"A cake, that's all." you just responded, feeling him press himself behind you and slide his hand over your big eight-month-old belly.

"And what's the name of the cake?" He leaned over your shoulder, still caressing you. "Is it "I'm worried about my baby's future." or "The baby woke me up by kicking me in the ribs"?

"How do you know that?" you laughed, taking some of the still raw dough for him to taste.

"Delicious." he muttered before he could follow up on any thoughts. "Daddy's Haki. I always know what's going on with my baby."

"Oh, of course." you laughed and immediately felt the same pain that had gotten you out of bed a few hours ago and had been recurring in the last few moments. You knew what it was, you just wanted to enjoy the time you still had with your baby inside.

"Honey?" Shanks asked as he saw you lean your body against his and groan in pain. "My love, what is it?"

"Didn't daddy's haki help you this time?" you tried to laugh but the pain hit you again. Before you could continue your sequence of laments, you felt your dress and as a result of the proximity, Shanks got wet.

"No, it didn't help, it's happening now, isn't it? Hongo!" he started screaming, trying to pick you up.

"Shanks, what if…" your eyes moistened with anxiety and accumulated tears. "What if I'm a terrible mother? What if nothing works? What if I can't bring our baby into the world?"

"There's no what if." he pointed out, gently pulling your chin. "Look at me, we're going to bring our first child into the world and everything will be fine. Come on, it's time to meet our baby."

Emony was born after long hours of labor. The small tuft of red hair was identical to Shanks's and her cry was celebrated by the entire ship who had woken up with your screams of pain and with Shanks running back and forth behind Hongo.

The girl was a little copy of her father, from her red hair to her attitude, which made you constantly laugh - after all, at the age of five she had already declared that she was going after One Piece alone when you two gave her a little scolding for her coming out of hiding during a fight you were involved in. You should also anticipate that the girl's strength would be derived from her father and not hers. A break on an island meant having the two of you spotted by enemy pirates while you were taking a walk with little Emony. After trying to escape and fight, you both ended up surrendering, you were on your knees, a gun against your head and little Emony was lifted by the collar of her dress.

"My daddy is going to finish you off, your shit" she declared, trying to kick the man, completely in vain.

"Will he really do that?" the man teased her, seeing the girl become even more nervous. "I'll be waiting for."

"You know this is his territory, what do you want on this island?" you asked and felt the gun being pressed even more against your head.

"Take it away from my mommy!!" Emony screamed and you felt something different in the air.

The man who was pointing the gun at you fell, fainted, as did the other men who accompanied the pirate. Their captain let out a loud laugh, pressing his hand even tighter against Emony's dress.

"Haki? At such a young age?"

"Mommy!" the girl jolted towards you, seeing you get up and walk towards her.

"I suggest you take your rotten hands off my daughter." Shanks' voice came from behind the man.

By dodging a little, you can see the crew approaching. Benn was already pointing a gun, almost glued to the head of the tyrant who had his hands on your little Emony.

"This here?" he shook the girl dismissively, turning to face Shanks. "You know, lately the navy has been investing a lot of money in Yonko's children." the man threatened, a stupid smile adorning his lips. "What's your offer for the brat?"

"Lucky, Yassop?" Shanks just signed. "You guys take my girls inside."

Without waiting for the man to respond, the redhead punched him in the face and before Emony could reach the ground, Lucky caught her. The two of you were taken inside a small store, where some vendors offered water and a place to calm down.

"Where are my girls?" Shanks' voice reached the two of you, but your daughter ran to him, hugging her father's legs, who picked her up. "Are you hurt, my little one?"

"No daddy." she smiled, victoriously. "You see, I'm ready to be a pirate." the joy in her voice brought some peace of mind to both of you.

"I thought you were already a pirate." Benn, who accompanied Shanks, commented and got the girl's response by sticking her tongue out at him.

"I'm going to be the greatest pirate! Just like dad." she replied, shaking herself off Shanks' lap. "Come on Uncle Benn, I bet I beat you."

"Bet? Let's see." The first mate let the girl hit him a few times, laughing at her effort.

"And you, love, were you hurt?" Shanks stood next to you, holding your shaking hand.

"I just got scared. Shanks, she…"

"I felt it. That's how I knew she was in danger." he replied before the question even left your thoughts. "She's barely trained and can already do this? She's really going to be a great pirate."

"Babe…" your warning tone made it clear that this was not the time for him to encourage such ideas.

"Imagine, she's a captain? Our daughter has a big future. In fact, we know who she takes after." the man boasted, earning a shove in response. "I think she needs companions."

"She can arrange it over time."

"Or we can help." the mischievous tone was already almost inert to the way he spoke to you. "Just a few more babies, a first mate, a cook." He started to list, seeing you deny it. "But you look so beautiful pregnant."

"Forget it Shanks."

"Daddy, mummy!" Emony's voice drew you both in. You watched the girl pose as victorious, on top of a Benn Beckman, Lucky, Yasopp and Limejuice piled on the floor, pretending to be defeated. "I won!"

"Now I challenge you, my little fire hair." Shanks joined in the game, going over to the girl.

Maybe some brothers for Emony would be nice - and maybe Shanks would have given you a good reason to accompany him every time you saw him love your little daughter.

Law

Part 2 here

warnings: angst, more angst, arguments with a fluff and happy ending. I mean, do I really need to inform you that our boy is going to freak out about the possibility of amber lead in his baby? Perhaps not very common uses of his DF, Law freaks out for a while, but then becomes the best dad in the world (we saw so little of Law with Lammy, but I bet he was an amazing brother and that he would be such a great girl's dad). And of course, Rosi comes from Rosinante. This text here is huge, sorry.

Being subordinate and companion to a captain who happened to be a doctor was one of the most practical things in your life. Did you catch the flu? He would solve it. Were you injured in battle? Just call the captain.

This meant not having any problems, especially after you decided to start dating. Law became even more attentive to every detail of your health, which made you realize that you didn't have much time to deal with the situation in your hands - more precisely, the situation in your womb.

The tests remained hidden in Ikkaku's drawer, with her being his only confidant at that moment. You wanted to know how many months it was, to be able to share such news, but you knew that as soon as Law found out, he would freak out and that's why you were avoiding him.

Avoiding, in the past verb, after all, he had already noticed something wrong between the two of you. Two knocks on your bedroom door startled you and your roommate.

"Hey." he looked dejected when the door opened, his attention automatically turned to Ikkaku. "Mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"

"Of course captain." a pious look came from her towards you, before the woman disappeared from your field of vision.

Law, not knowing what to say, sat next to you. As you tried to grab his hand, you felt him move away. Damn it.

"How long have you known?" his cold tone dictated that he was probably not happy at all with the news.

"How do you know?" you answered his question with another, trying to buy time before the approaching storm.

"Today marks two months since you haven't asked me for help with any colic or complained about being sinking in a red river." he laughed, even though he didn't look happy. "By my reckoning, it's also been two months since that day in the kitchen."

Of course, the day in the kitchen. You and Law were always careful, even if you already used your contraceptive method, you preferred to use other types of protection. Except when you arrived at Polar Tang drunk and alone, which resulted in a unprotected sex session on the shared kitchen table.

"Quite a recipe we made." You tried to make fun of him.

"What do we do?" For the first time at that moment, you saw Law's eyes actually find you, worried and afraid.

"What do we do?" you repeated. "I'm pregnant Law, I don't know if there's much to do other than wait for the baby to be born."

"You know what worries me." his harsh response cut through any kind of excitement you held back. "You know very well what will happen to this child."

"What can happen." you corrected him.

"Would you rather risk waiting the nine months, giving birth and seeing your child die some time later? Sounds like a great idea to me." Cynicism echoed in his words just as your two voices were already much louder, taking your hatred to levels you didn't yet know.

"Would you rather I have an abortion and then spend the rest of my life wondering what if my baby had been born healthy?" his silence was the answer you needed at that moment. "You know what? Leave me on the next island, I'd rather take a risk and have my baby happy than have to abort it or even worse, my baby has to live with a parent who hates its existence."

"You don't understand what this could entail." He stood up too, trying to put something that looked like sense into your head. "You stay here until this is resolved."

"This has already been resolved and you don't need to have any involvement in my baby's life." you were sure the entire submarine was already listening to that argument between the two of you. "Get out of here, Law."

"But…"

"Get out of here!" you screamed even louder, seeing the man give up and leave. It only took a few seconds for Ikkaku to appear and allow you to cry for hours on her shoulder.

Anyone looking from the outside could see that you two were in pain. Law had become a shadow of the captain he was, only having small appearances to issue orders or to follow you - even without saying many words - every time you approached an island, fearing that you would leave the crew. Even though the two of you didn't talk anymore, you knew that his disappearance was related to studying everything he could about the disease that ravaged his country and was also present in him.

In the two months that had passed, Law had stopped being your boyfriend and practically become your doctor. Without exchanging many words, you only met when he decided to do some examination on you. To break the mood, you always took one of your friends along. The little information you had about Law came from Bepo, Shachi or Penguin, the only ones who were still able to invade his room and talk to him. Like that afternoon, when they insisted that you convince him to leave the room and have dinner with all his companions.

"Law?" two knocks on the door accompanied your voice. His tired look hit you immediately.

"How can I help you?"

"I wanted you to come have dinner with us." you tried to appeal to what you want. Many times, before pregnancy, that had worked.

"I am a little busy."

"I can bring something here." You suggested, approaching him. On the table, you saw accumulated papers, the vast majority of which titles were not related to Amber Lead.

"No need to worry, I'm fine." he simply replied, seeing that you were reading the papers on his desk. "I found some new studies."

"Law, I told you that you don't need to worry about that right now, we don't know yet…"

"When would you rather I worry?" the cynicism was once again there in his voice and he knew how much you hated it. "When you die on the table because for some reason this shit got to you? Or when I watch our baby die?"

"Now is he our baby?" you used the same resource as him. "From what I remember, I had made it very clear that I didn't want you to be involved in this."

"But it's my obligation."

"Your obligation as a father? I think you lost that right when you made it very clear that I had to take my baby away." you started to walk away from his desk. "Or your obligation as captain? As a boyfriend that isn't, I don't know what it's like to have a boyfriend for a good few months."

"I was busy, trying to find a cure for you two."

"We're both not sick." you sounded offended by what he had proposed. "But keep it up, sink into your books, don't worry when I disappear from this fucking submarine."

You left slamming the door, stressed. The looks that reached you seemed full of pity and concern. You only managed to get as far as the kitchen before a pang hit your head and stomach. Being supported by your colleagues, the only request you made was that no one tell Law about it. You wouldn't give him reason in his incessant search for something he didn't yet know.

Alleviating your worries, the diagnosis arrived quickly: just a spike in high blood pressure. A few hours of rest and an IV should do the trick. When you saw Bepo murmur an apology, you knew exactly what he was going to do and so did your friends, as little by little they left you alone. You remained turned away, even though you heard the door open. Something in the air had changed, it was as if you immediately felt more tense and prepared for another argument.

"Babe, can we talk?" Law's voice sounded much lower than normal, definitely attracting your attention. His affectionate way of calling you was an easy way to make you fall for his words. You turned around, facing him and started to adjust yourself to sit on the stretcher. "No, please, stay still there."

"I'm just going to sit down." You did so, your movement being followed to the millimeter by his eyes. "Just to be clear, I don't want to fight."

"I didn't come here for that reason." he approached, hesitating with every step he took. "Actually, I know you didn't want me to come here for any reason."

"I just don't want to have to hear from my doctor that I'd better have given up on the idea." you turned around, allowing your legs to dangle. "I understand your concerns Law and I would be lying if I said I haven't been terrified of the idea since I saw the first positive test."

"I know." He finally stopped a short distance away, but he still didn't touch you. "I… I-I, damn, why is it so hard?"

"Just let the words come, don't think about them." you suggested, figuring it was just pride keeping you from apologizing for all the previous argument.

"I-I feel like shit." a sigh came out along with the words. "You're right, as a boyfriend I've been terrible, as a doctor then, just look at the fact that you're in a hospital bed and the last person to be informed is me." his fists clenched and then loosened, his tattooed hands rubbed against his face, perhaps in an attempt to get the words out of him.

"Law?" your heart broke when you heard a sniffle come from him, it was the last gesture you expected after everything, it was difficult to connect the information like this.

"I can't lose you and I know it doesn't seem like it, I know I've been a terrible person, but I love this child. I can't lose this too." For the first time after so long together, you saw tears run down your loved one's face. His hands stuck to his hat, pulling in a failed attempt to hide his face. "I can't stop regretting saying that to you, what if our baby hates me for it? What if our baby knows that for a moment, even a small moment, I didn't want him or her to exist."

"My love?" You extended your hand, being accepted by him. Law fit between your legs and buried his face in your neck, even with the muffled sound, you only heard his murmurs and sobs.

"I'm sorry, please. For yelling and being an idiot." he asked, still not letting go of you. "I just can't deal with the thought of losing either of you."

"My dear, look at me." his irises remained almost hidden by the tears that accumulated at his waterline. Your hands dried his face and you didn't know how you weren't crying together. "We still don't know if our child will have amber lead disease, we don't know the scope of your fruit in the cure."

"What should we do in the meantime?"

"As I told you, wait. Make the best of this little time we have until the baby is born." you suggested while your hands traced caresses on his face. "And I just want, I need, my boyfriend back. I don't know how far I can go without you by my side."

"I promise to get better, I promise to take care of you." he replied, taking a deep breath and composing himself. With his hands rubbing his face, Law looked much more centered. "What happened today? When Bepo called me, he just told me it was a blood pressure problem and that you were resting."

"I said I want my boyfriend." you insisted with a smile on your face and saw a small ghost of what would be a smile on Law too.

Law first checked the serum that was being applied to you and then took off the hat he was wearing, placing it on your hair. With his face millimeters away from yours, he placed a quick kiss on your lips, followed by one more and another, until finally you gave way to him. The skin of his face was still damp against your face and your fingers caressed his scalp, the gesture he loved so much and god, how he had missed it. When Law pulled away, you almost pulled him back. Two months were too long apart - even under the same roof.

"I missed you so much." You confessed, not wanting to let go of his hand.

"I missed you too my love, I'm sorry for being such an idiot for so long." He sank against your skin again, this time stealing a few kisses along the way. "What do you think we make up for lost time?"

"That sounds interesting to me."

"No, no sex." he cut you off as soon as he saw you smile mischievously. "Room."

You were back in his room, now lying on the soft bed with gray sheets. Along with the two of you, only the serum and support tied to your skin had come. Law adjusted himself, sitting with his back against the wall and adjusting your body to be against his skin. You saw from the corner of your eye his hand go towards you and retreat, ignoring any complaint he would make, you pulled it back and placed it flat against your belly.

"I don't think you can feel it yet, but I've already started to feel some small movements. In fact, I thought I had stomach gas, until Ikkaku and I found a book explaining that it was the baby." You explained and looking over your shoulder, you could see bright gray eyes staring at you. "Right now, from what I feel, the baby is here." you slid his hand away, stopping next to your side.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, using his other arm to hug you even tighter. You nodded and saw him smile at the likely thought that crossed his mind before the words came out. "The other day, I accidentally spied on you in your room. I think you had just gotten out of the shower and were in front of the mirror."

"Oh no Law, I don't believe it." you laughed, already knowing what day it was.

"I think you spent about fifteen minutes posing in front of the mirror, caressing our child in your womb. God, you looked so beautiful, so radiant." he allowed himself to almost melt against the wall behind him. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time, so much stuff."

"Can I tell you something too? I actually need to update you on a few things." you asked and felt his face move against your skin, nodding. "Did you know that our baby is already just like you? I can't even see a piece of bread before I'm ready to spill my stomach."

That night, the two of you spent a lot of time there. You telling him about the little news that Law had missed in the time you didn't talk and him explaining little curiosities to you, things that seemed incredible to him because they were happening in the body of the woman he loved and he didn't have the courage to tell you before.

In the fifth month - now with a new version of Law, one much more adept at the idea of being a father and much more attached to you. You were dragged by him to a small room, finding Ikkaku, Shachi and Penguin sitting at the table waiting for you.

"What is that?" You sat down in the chair that Law arranged for you, he soon took the place next to you.

"You said you didn't want me as a doctor, so if you want and you have time to think about it, they will be your doctor."

"And you?" your voice was almost cornered, trying to connect the pieces of the situation that was presented. "Aren't you going to be at the birth?"

"I'll be there all the time and any problem, I'll take care of it. But I want to be there for you, for our baby. Instead of scalpels and speculums, I just want to hold your hand." Law chuckled as he saw your little pout that you made start to tremble. "Sound like a good idea to you?"

"T-This is in-amazing." despite Law seeing you get emotional, the loudest crying came from the other side of the table.

"Man, that was beautiful." Shachi was struggling, leaning on Penguin.

"It's so good that you guys are back."

"Idiots." the woman commented, turning to you. "Come on, tell me everything you expect from the birth of our little baby."

After spending the remaining months buried in books next to him, this time looking for good information and not just a cure for an illness, you learned that the stretcher was not a good place to give birth and that sensations were an important part of the process, in other words, goodbye Ope Ope no Mi's anesthesia powers. Law seemed to want to make up for the distance by always staying close to you and always reminding you how special you were to him, like when you looked adorable when the jumpsuit stopped fitting around your belly or when you and Bepo joined in complaining about the heat.

With the help of your own nature, the chosen doctors and Law behind you in that hot tub, your girl arrived into the world quickly and much less painfully than you thought. In the first few hours, little Rosi didn't let go of you and only when the water around the bathtub became cold did Law manage to take his focus off the little baby to take you two to a more cozy place.

In the early days, Law's hands seemed tied to Rosi. When the girl with eyes as gray as her father's wasn't on his lap, Law was following you like a shadow to ensure the health of both of you. Sometimes looking sideways, you could see Law observing every inch of the girl, in a constant search for signs of the cursed disease that had once taken his family from him. He would never allow that to happen to his little girl.

The worry lasted for years and there was never a sign of the disease or any other illness. Before, if everyone at Polar Tang had a strict health care schedule, with the arrival of the girl, attention redoubled.

Rosi was like seeing a mini-version of Law walking around, especially because of the copy of his hat that he had gotten for her. All the love that Law took to give you and her, when it was just a fetus inside you, the doctor seemed to make up for it with the girl, there wasn't something she wanted or asked for that he wasn't ready to do.

Rosi seemed to love accompanying her father in laboratories and studies, this seemed to change when she was once injured in an attack, in fact Rosi lost her balance with the Polar Tang speeding into the sea and ended up getting a cut on her forehead, patched by Ikkaku since Law was busy fending off enemies. That had been enough trauma for little Rosi to not want to know more about medical things.

"Please, my sweetie, it's just a small remedy." you tried to pull the girl out of the closet.

"No, no, no." she grumbled. The little gray eyes full of water. "It's going to hurt a lot."

"It won't hurt, my love." you insisted, seeing her deny it.

"My princess?" Law bent down, reaching her height. "Come on, this is to make you okay."

"Daddy, it's going to hurt a lot, I don't want it." she grumbled even more, knowing that Law was much easier to convince.

"Doesn't your throat hurt too?" he asked and the little girl nodded. "I promise it won't hurt anymore."

"But what about the injection?"

"Daddy also promises it won't hurt at all." he reaffirmed and saw the girl come out of hiding, heading straight into his arms. "Babe, she's a little feverish." he murmured to you, almost despair forming on his face.

"Law, it's just a cold." you warned him, following him as your daughter rested against his shoulder. You knew that when it came to Rosi's health, Law was the most concerned of all.

"Daddy, it's because I was lying on the ice with Bepo." the girl confessed the information, adjusting herself to reach Law's field of vision. "I'm just a little sick, that's it." she created a small space between her fingers.

"That's great, my love." He placed the girl sitting on the stretcher. "It means it'll only take that long for you to get better." he repeated the gesture she had made with her fingers. "Ready?" he saw her deny it, laughing. "Do you want mommy to hold your hand?"

"Yes!" She reached out her little hand to you. "Mommy, what is this?"

"It's dad's way of taking care of us." You tried to sum it up the best way. Maybe she was too young to understand how akuma no mis works.

"Ready? First take a deep breath…" Law imitated, holding the air for a while and making her laugh when she saw him puffed up. "And now…" he applied the injection to her arm. He knew it hadn't hurt at all, but the girl automatically started to pout. "My little princess, what happened? Did it hurt?"

"No." she said, her voice breaking. You both had to laugh when you saw her asking you to hold her without even moving the arm that Law had given the injection to.

"My love, what do you think…" Law bent down to look into her eyes as he spoke. "We can go to the kitchen and steal…"

"Bepo!" the girl stretched her arm towards the bear that appeared in the field of vision. "I want to be with Bepo."

"With Bepo?" Law pretended to be frustrated.

"He's warm and I'm cold." you passed the girl to Bepo, who was her favorite company. Law insisted that it was because the mental age was identical, but you always laughed at the accusations while the bear grumbled.

"What do you say we read a little?" Bepo suggested, letting Rosi climb onto his shoulder.

The two of you accompanied him to the living room, giving Bepo information about the girl being feverish. It only took a few words from the bear who started reading one of her favorite stories for Rosi to fall asleep. Law carefully took his daughter from him and started walking alongside you to the girl's room.

"I can't believe she chose to go with him."

"Well, you had just given her an injection, she harbored some resentment." you joked and saw him frown. "Maybe the next one will like us more than a huge, cuddly bear."

"Next, huh?" he spoke in a low tone, not wanting to wake the girl in his arms.

"Exactly. Or have you forgotten about the ten minutes hiding in your living room when Ikkaku was having a girls' night out with Rosi?" You saw his expression light up, a smile that you hadn't seen the first time you had this kind of conversation and that was one of your favorite things in the world.

"How long, is a month half?" he tried to hold back his louder, surprised voice.

"Yes, I took the test last week." you watched him open the door and place little Rosi on the pink bed. Before you could return to the subject, you felt him take you in his arms and lift you up, filling your face with kisses.

"I love you so much, I love you both." he put you down. "To be more exact, the three of you."

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lilasamaaa · 5 months

Text

Amor | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre | Smut, Fluff.

Word count | 3.8K

Warnings | Sexual content, alcohol consumption.

Summary | Carlos is about to enjoy a few days of rest in Lisbon between races when he crosses paths with a young woman with whom he will share a night. And, if fate allows it, perhaps a little more...

Author's note | Thanks for the lovely request @thefuckwasmyname ! Hope you like it!

In life, there are many things that Carlos Sainz enjoys. His job, obviously. Or his family, of which he's very proud to be extremely close. But sometimes, there's something he loves even more than all of that : escaping both of these things. And that's exactly what he had planned to do for the next five days, wandering the streets of the Portuguese capital.

His phone has been off since this morning, when he stepped onto the plane taking him from Madrid to Lisbon. Everyone had been informed, and his words were very clear. Unreachable. Don't text, don't call, he had told his family the day before departure. I need to take some time for myself. To recharge. I won't answer.

Carlos loves Lisbon. As he steps onto the geometric patterns of the Praça do Rossio, memories of childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood flood his mind. Memories of his father playfully chasing after him, of sharing ice creams with his sisters, of days at the beach searching for the most beautiful seashell to give to his mother. Yes, Lisbon is truly a place that is precious to him. A place he doesn't want to share. A place he wants to keep for himself.

His stays in Lisbon always start the same way, and he's set on respecting the tradition. Running a hand through his hair and adjusting his cap and sunglasses on his head, the Spaniard heads straight to Gelados Santini. The blazing sun of this early May afternoon isn't in his favor. It seems like all of Lisbon has crowded into the small shop, determined to combat the sweltering heat with a sweet treat. Engrossed in his phone, the twenty-minute wait passes without incident, and soon he's next in line. Right after the woman in front of him, who is now heading towards the counter.

"Bom dia," he hears a very lovely voice say. He's not surprised to hear something other than English. A lot of locals love the place. "Eu gostaria de..."

The woman pauses, seemingly searching for her words. There are quite a few choices, Carlos thinks. Her hesitation is understandable.

"Eu gostaria de um sorvete de limão em amor, por favor."

Oh, he thinks. This woman is definitely not Portuguese.

"Amor?" the young man behind the counter asks, eyeing up suspiciously.

"Sim, amor e limão. Em um potinho pequeno em vez de um cone, por favor."

The man scrutinizes the woman in front of him as if horns had just sprouted from her head. Even though Carlos had planned to remain rather discreet, the young woman's confusion prompts him to intervene.

"Ela quer de amora. Limão e amora," he says to the man behind the counter, stepping forward.

"Ah, amora," the vendor repeats, grabbing the ice cream scoop.

"Oh my god," the woman says in perfect English, turning to face him. "What did I ask for?"

"A lemon and love ice cream. Quite original," he responds, suppressing a laugh. The young woman blushes deeply, covering her mouth.

"This is the last time I try to speak Portuguese."

"You were doing great," Carlos says, still laughing. "The accent was perfect, at least. Could have fooled me."

The man behind the counter hands her the ice cream, and she gives him a bill in exchange for some coins. She thanks him and gives a little wave to Carlos, thanking him too, before leaving the shop. The Spaniard places his order in perfect Portuguese, and a few seconds later, he too is once again facing the boiling sun, ice cream in hand. The young woman is still there, leaning against the shop window, trying to enjoy the shade of the small awning at the storefront.

"Thanks again," she says, licking the side of cup where a drop threatens to escape.

"My pleasure," he responds, sitting down next to her in the shade. "But perhaps I shouldn't have intervened? If it's really love you wanted to order from that innocent man."

She laughs, with a radiant, luminous laughter.

"No, you did well to come to my rescue. I thought the poor guy was going to have a heart attack."

"If you had insisted, I'm not sure he would have refused the proposition of such a pretty girl," he responds with a smirk, his eyes fixed on his cone.

"You, Portuguese men," she says, smirking at him. "You've certainly earned your reputation as charmers."

"Well, that might be true, but I wouldn't know. I'm Spanish," he replies with a grin.

"Oops! Sorry," she replies. "It's not very far, after all," she adds.

"Yes, we're neighbors. That's why I come here so often," he explains.

"Oh!" she exclaims, her eyes suddenly sparkling with excitement. "So, you know the city well, then?"

"Like the back of my hand," Carlos replies, gazing into her eyes.

"Okay," she starts. "I've been here for four days. I'm leaving tomorrow. I feel like I've already done all the important stuff : Praça do Comércio, the cathedral, the castle, the convent," she begins to list, counting on her fingers. "Belém Tower, of course. Absolutely magnificent. Alfama, too... But I'm afraid I might have missed something. Is there anything else that's a must-see?"

Carlos takes a moment to think, bringing the ice cream to his lips.

"Well," he says after a few seconds. "Have you crossed the 25th of April Bridge?"

"The one that looks like the Golden Gate?" she asks as Carlos nods. "No, I've only seen it from afar. I didn't dare to walk across it," she admits.

"Yeah, it's better to avoid walking across it," the Spaniard agrees. "But if you want, I have a scooter. If you feel like crossing the bridge. No pressure, of course," he says, focusing back on his ice cream.

"You'd do that?" she asks, her eyes widening. "Oh, that would be so amazing. I mean, if you don't have anything else to do, of course."

Twenty minutes later, done with their ice creams and feeling a bit refreshed, Carlos starts his scooter in a small Portuguese alleyway, while the young woman, seated behind him, fastens her helmet.

"Hold tight," he says, starting the engine and venturing into the cobbled streets, making her yelp before grabbing onto his waist.

The journey to the bridge takes about fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes during which Carlos explains to her what's around them, from cathedrals to varieties of trees to famous murals. The rushing air and their helmets make conversation a bit difficult, so she leans into him, chin resting on his shoulder to hear better. When finally the bridge stands before them, she can't help but let out a "wow" of surprise and admiration. "It's so beautiful!" she shouts for Carlos to hear, and she feels the Spaniard laughing, his back trembling against her chest. In the distance, the statue of Christ stands with outstretched arms, as if waiting for them.

"Just like in Rio!" she says.

"You've been to Brazil?" Carlos asks, eyeing her up in one of the rearview mirror.

"Yeah," she says. "Have you?"

"Yes," Carlos replies. "For work."

The driver accelerates to overtake a car, and the wind cuts off their conversation. Behind him, her arms tighten around his waist, and he finds himself enjoying the sensation. A few minutes later, they've finally crossed the bridge, and they take the opportunity to stop at the statue and explore the surroundings. Lost in the streets of Almada, the two strangers get to know each other, exchanging life and travel anecdotes. The chemistry is so good that neither of them realizes how much time has passed until the sun sets on the horizon, in front of the terrace they're seated at.

"Wow, I can't believe it's already almost 8 p.m.," she suddenly says, looking at her phone.

"Did you have plans after this? Sorry, I've stolen you for quite some time," he asks apologetically.

"No, nothing planned. And I've quite liked being stolen, to be honest," she replies, looking at him over her spritz. "Thank you for being such a great guide."

Carlos looks lost in his thoughts for a moment, silent.

"Would..." he starts, hesitant. "Would it be weird if I invited you to dinner? My cousin lent me his apartment, there's a beautiful view of the city. I bought some groceries when I arrived this morning, I have wine, and..."

He's interrupted by a hand placed on his, and when he looks up, his eyes meet those, dark, of the young woman. He's never been extremely confident, but he's never felt as exposed as he does under her piercing gaze. It's... unsettling. Kinda sexy, too.

"I'd be really happy to. If you're not already tired of my company," she replies, laughing.

An hour later, she's sitting on the terrace of the Spaniard's cousin, overlooking the Tagus Bay, a glass of white wine in hand. The sun has set, but the air is still warm. Below, the noise of restaurant terraces adds to the evening's liveliness. Behind her, in the kitchen, the driver is busy slicing vegetables, cutting meat, draining pasta.

"Are you sure you don't need a hand, Carlos?" she asks, turning around. It's been a while since they exchanged names, back at the bar in Almada. She also learned that he was a driver. He didn't really say much more, so she interpreted... like a taxi, or something. They talked about her job, as a lecturer at the University of Oxford in England. Foreign civilizations, she'd explained with a smile, beaming with pride.

"No, I want you to enjoy the evening. I invited you to dinner after all, not to cook," he replies with a smile. She smiles in return, turning her attention back to the water. She could stay here forever. But already, her departure is approaching. The notification on her phone informing her that her flight takes off in a few hours is proof of that. A surprisingly disappointing proof. Almost painful. Painful? Ridiculous, she thinks, shaking her head to dispel the absurd idea.

"It's ready," the Spaniard announces suddenly, placing two steaming plates on the small table where she's seated.

"It smells incredibly good," she replies, closing her eyes and flaring her nostrils. "Do you cook a lot?"

"Not as much as I'd like," the man responds. "I'm often on the road for work. It's not easy to find the time and motivation to get into the kitchen."

"Yeah, I bet," she replies, raising her glass in his direction to toast. Their two glasses clink gently, and each takes a sip, settling into a comfortable silence.

"I'd like to cook more too, but when you get home at 9 p.m. from a day of long and tiring lectures... Food delivery works just fine," she confides, laughing.

The conversation goes on, each opening up to one another, asking questions, answering some. Neither of them says it, but each is surprised by how easily they open up, reveal themselves. It's almost unsettling, he thinks. To know someone for just a few hours and feel so comfortable. Truly unsettling, she thinks. Having dinner with a stranger and wanting to tell them your entire life story. The dinner continues, as does the wine, and slowly, the conversation drifts. Without either of them really noticing. Or caring enough to stop.

"What's a girl like you doing here all alone?" the Spaniard asks after a moment.

"Right back at you," she says. "What's a guy like you doing here alone?"

"What's a guy like me?" he asks, a playful smile on his lips.

"Come on now, you're just fishing for compliments. I don't care, I'll bite," she replies, smirking. "A charming guy. Very charming. Well-dressed, multilingual, good conversationalist, and who cooks amazingly well. A guy who knows how to please a woman," she adds.

"I do know how to please a woman," he says, tone low. "Thanks for noticing."

Realizing the innuendo, she blushes, drinking from her glass.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I know," he replies, smiling. "But thanks for the compliments. To answer your question, I often come to Lisbon when I need to be alone. To gather my thoughts," he responds.

"And yet, we've spent the day together. That's not what I call being alone. Did I ruin your plans then?" she says, eyeing him intensely.

"You haven't ruined anything. If anything, you've improved them."

"There he is," she replies, laughing. "The Portuguese man in you. The charmer!" she says, throwing the bottle cap in his direction. He catches it effortlessly in the air, laughing out loud.

"What about you, then? You haven't answered the question," Carlos says, serious again. "What's a splendid, refined, elegant woman of knowledge like you doing alone in Lisbon?"

The conversation pauses for a moment as she looks away from his eyes, gazing into the river in the distance.

"I don't know why I'm doing this," she begins, "but I'm going to tell you something I haven't told anyone yet. Not my family, not even my closest friends. In fact, I've only just admitted it to myself, but... I'm searching for meaning."

"Meaning?" he repeats, arching a brow.

"I love my job, I've worked hard to get here. Living in Oxford isn't so bad, if you forget about the rain. I'm well surrounded, I have friends, I get along great with my loved ones. But..." she continues, hesitantly. "I've been feeling lately like my life doesn't have any meaning. Like I'm moving forward without direction. Like something is missing."

"And what could this something be?" Carlos replies softly.

"I don't know. I'm here to find out," she says, meeting his eyes.

It must be the wine. Or the adrenaline from the day... But probably more the wine, which prompts Carlos to lean over the table and capture her lips. She's surprised, her whole body seeming to stiffen, and for a moment, Carlos regrets it. But a few seconds later, her tongue finds his, intensifying the kiss, her hand moving to the nape of his neck. Things escalate quickly. It only takes them a few minutes to abandon plates, glasses of wine, and clothing along the way and throw themselves onto the double bed in the apartment.

All day, she let him make the decisions. The one to leave the gelato shop. The one to cross the bridge. The one to eat dinner at his place. So Carlos is particularly surprised when she pushes him onto the bed, kissing him passionately before descending to his groin, and his already almost painful hard-on. Her hand barely brushes against his cock, her touch delicate, but already, his whole body is on fire. At her mercy.

"Wait," he says, sitting up on his elbows. "Are you sure? I can make you feel good."

"Let me thank you for this fantastic dinner," she says, watching him through her lashes, eyes dark.

Her hand wraps around him, and her expert movements begin, running her thumb over the tip, letting a trickle of saliva drip from her mouth to its tip.

"Fucking hell", he swears, falling back.

Her mouth finds him, and she plays with her tongue, hollowing her cheeks, taking him as far as she can until tears well up in the corners of his eyes. His moans intensify, assuring her that she's doing well, that he appreciates her efforts. Her little game lasts for a while, his hands lost in the mass of her hair, pulling at the roots, uttering profanities. Praising her. Then suddenly, he sits up, letting out a "wait" that makes her stop abruptly.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks, wiping her mouth.

"No, you did... Everything right. Too right. I was going to, erm..."

"Oh!" she utters, stiffling a laugh.

"Now, let me take care of you," he says, flipping her over on the bed, his body on top of hers.

They kiss, something she's never done with other flings, other one-night stands. Something so deeply intimate, so dangerous. Their tongues meet, explore each other. He bites her lip and she lets out a moan so loud that she surprises even herself. This guy has way too much of an effect on me, she thinks, getting lost in his eyes. Hypnotizing eyes, he thinks, surrendering to them.

Pressing kisses along her neck, on her collarbones, and then on her breasts, his mouth finds one of her nipples, over which he slides his tongue, eliciting moans from her. Feeling her receptive, he tries something else, nibbling on it, pressing his warm mouth against it. For several minutes, he alternates from one nipple to the other, from one nipple to her mouth, from her mouth to the other nipple. His mouth, his teeth, are everywhere. Warm. Intoxicating. Suddenly, she clings to his shoulders, her mouth slightly open, and he can't help but scrutinize her, observe every movement, every expression on her face.

"Oh, god," she says, her head thrown back, a strand of hair in front of her eyes.

And she cums. It's probably the most beautiful, the most exciting thing he's ever seen in his life. His cock pulses, aching, and for a moment, he thinks he's going to empty himself there, on her stomach. Like a fucking teenager. But he has other plans, and he intends on making good use of them.

"Wow," she says, coming down from her orgasm. "I've never come from this before."

"Well, you did say that you wanted to find out things about yourself," he replies with a cocky grin.

She smiles, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him towards her. He settles between her legs, his hand sliding between them, to her core. She's wet, her excitement glistening along her thighs. Onto the sheets. And who is he to judge, he, whose erection is almost painful, fueled by thoughts of slipping into her, making her his home for eternity.

In a kiss, he spreads her legs, positioning himself at her core, casting her a final confirming glance to which she responds by kissing him again, feverishly. He's inside her in one motion, and once again, he must focus to not explode within her walls.

"Fuck," he says, going as deep as possible. "Where were you all this time?"

"Oh, you know, at the ice cream shop. Asking for love," she replies, laughing.

He bites her shoulder, starting to move. Alternating between deliciously long moments where she moans, begging for more. And others where he ravages her, devouring her neck. Her lips. After some time, they're both panting, and he presses his forehead to her.

"I want you to ride me," he says, kissing her again. "I want to see you. All of you."

And she complies, swapping positions, sitting on his hard cock. Riding him without even thinking. Throwing her head back until her hair tickles his thighs. His hands find her breasts, holding them, kissing them.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers. "So good at riding me."

"Stop talking like this or I'm gonna cum," she says, whining.

"Would this be a bad thing?"

"I want this to last as long as possible," she says, pressing her nose to his.

He helps her, lifting her thighs to ease her movements, caressing her shoulders, her breasts, her hips. It lasts a moment, until she places both hands on his chest, her legs trembling.

"Let it go, hermosa," he says, holding her ass. "Cum for me, baby."

And she does, releasing a series of moans that make him bite his lip. He himself can't take it anymore, holding back his pleasure for some time. She feels it. The way his penis twitches. The squinting of his eyes. His short breath.

"Cum inside," she says, eyes still closed. "I want to feel you."

A few thrusts later, he empties himself deep inside her, with a grunt that could make her go for another round without thinking.

"La hostia," he breathes, panting. "¿Qué me has hecho, hermosa?"

"Was it that bad that you lost your English?" she asks, her head resting on his chest.

"You almost had me speaking French, that's to say," he laughs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

"Please, stay."

Several hours later, Carlos is snoring softly, and doesn't even hear the alarm clock of the young woman ringing. She grabs her phone, squinting against the brightness, checking the time. Four in the morning. Her flight is at 7, on the other side of the city. She has pre-ordered a taxi that should arrive within thirty minutes to take her back to her rental, so she can grab her suitcase before heading to the airport. She reluctantly slips out from under the warm covers, casting a glance at her lover, peacefully asleep. Should she wake him up? Say goodbye? She's always left her one-night stands without a word, without a glance. But him... she thinks. This was different. Maybe...

Spotting a notebook and a pen on the bedroom desk, she seizes them, scribbling a few words. Nothing seems good enough, yet she wants to try. She writes mindlessly, throwing in a thank you for everything, a best night of my life, a hope to see you again someday before leaving the note on her pillow. Twenty minutes later, she's gone, her perfume still lingering in the room.

Ten days later

"What's up with you?" Charles asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

"What?"

"You're not there. So, where are you?" his teammate asks again.

So, he tells him everything. His trip to Lisbon to clear his head. His meeting with her, the very first day. Their afternoon. Their night. The next morning, alone. Her note. And the thoughts haunting his mind ever since.

"Why didn't you write to her if she affects you so much?" Charles asks, perplexed.

"She didn't leave me her number," Carlos sighs, dejected. "Not even an address. Nothing."

"You said she was a professor? At Oxford?" Charles asks, invested, as Carlos nods, zipping up his firesuit. "Foreign civilizations, yeah?" Another nod from Carlos. "Have you searched for her email? It must be on the university website, right? For students who need to contact her?"

Carlos' face lights up in a second.

"You, fucking cabrón," he says, holding Charles by the shoulders. "How did I not think of that?"

A few minutes later, as he's about to put down his phone before heading for the qualifying session, Carlos writes the final words on the email destined to his beautiful stranger. Finding her email was surprisingly easy. Summarizing everything he wanted to say in a few lines was more challenging. Letting out a deep breath and pressing the send button, the Spaniard sets his phone down before joining his race car and slipping inside. Nervously on edge. Not about the upcoming session, no. Something else. Deliciously nerve-wracking.

As he speeds around the track, completing lap after lap, he misses the screen of his phone lighting up, announcing an email of which only the first line is visible.

"Hi stranger... I was beginning to think you'd never find me."

#f1 #f1 2024 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #smut #fluff #lilasamaaa #requested

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golden-cherry · 7 months

Text

deal - cl16 (25/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Having lunch with friends always leads to sharing information. And girl, those friends don't hold back.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut), fluff, Kika is the bestest friend on this planet, mentions of Carlos and his girlfriend (yes, I consider this a trigger)

Word Count: 3.3k

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A/N: I just reached 2.6k followers and wow!! thank you so much!!! I love you! and this one is for you!!! feedback is appreciated.

Although it's only a few days until Christmas, the sun is shining so brightly that it's pleasantly warm as you and Kika leave the furniture store. As planned - but still with an uneasy feeling - you have left the almost overflowing shopping cart in front of the checkouts and while Charles pays for your "early Christmas present", you and your friend walk to the restaurant.

"I hope all this stuff fits in the car." Kika curls her mouth into a grin. "The mirror I wrote on the note - you know, the one they have to get from storage - is pretty big."

"I'd like to have your guts," you answer her. "Just picking out a huge mirror without knowing exactly whether it will fit anywhere in our apartment."

Kika grins and points to her brown eyes. "Eye measurement, baby. Those marbles are that big for a reason."

You have to stifle a laugh. "If you say so."

While the Portuguese woman plans where in your room she will place which decoration, your thoughts drift off.

It bothers you a little that Charles wants to spend so much money on you. And for no good reason. "I want you to feel comfortable" was his explanation, which is of course very courteous and loving of him. But you could have bought the things with your own money. At least a small part of it.

Would he expect a similarly expensive gift for Christmas now? If so, what could you get him? What do you give someone who already has everything?

"Are you mad at me?" Kika interrupts your flow of thoughts and grabs your elbow.

Confused, you turn to her. "What?"

"I - I don't know." When she stops, you're forced to stop too. "I didn't tell you that Charles is a famous Formula 1 driver. You - you confided in me about Raphael and I kept you in the dark about your roommate."

You exhale. "Kika..."

"I wasn't a good friend and I'm sorry about that. Charles had asked us all not to tell because he wanted to protect you and enjoy the time with you when he was just Charles to you. Even if it wasn't fair to you. I can understand if you're angry with me and-"

"I'm not angry with you," you interrupt her and smile at her. "You're Charles' friend first and foremost and I can't blame him or you for keeping his secret. It doesn't affect our friendship in the slightest."

"Promise?" Her tone sounds a little more pleased than it did a few moments ago.

You nod. "I promise."

She hooks back into you. "Thank goodness for that. I felt super bad because I couldn't tell you. But it wasn't my secret and it wasn't my place to tell you. And I'm really relieved that you see it the same way." She rests her head on your shoulder as you continue walking.

"So you're a model, huh?" you ask her.

She nods. "Yes. Well, I put a lot of effort into it and it's very tiring at times." Kika shrugs her shoulders. "But because of that - and Pierre, of course - I get to travel a lot and see great places. And I really appreciate that." She looks at you. "Now that you're unemployed -" You give her a dirty look. "Maybe you'd like to take my pictures sometime. And then I can post it on my Instagram and maybe other models will want to book you."

"You haven't seen any of my pictures yet," you reply with a laugh as she grabs your hand and jumps up and down. "Of course we can. We can try it out if you like."

Your friend looks around briefly before letting go of you and moving away from you. "How about now? I know you don't have your camera with you, but you can use my phone. The photos won't be as focused as with a real camera, but it should be enough to get you started."

She hands you her cell phone before standing opposite you against the wall of the house. You watch her uncertainly as she fixes her hair. "Are you sure about this? What if the boys are already waiting for us?"

"Let them." She pulls her black jeans up a little so that they sit loosely on her hips. "It won't take long. And I trust you. So here we go."

While Kika turns, repositions herself and smiles at the camera, you take as many pictures as you can. In between, you adjust her purple cardigan so that it sits in the middle of her narrow shoulders, tell her how her feet should be positioned to emphasize the curves of her body and even tousle her hair once so that a few strands fall loosely into her forehead.

When you look at the pictures after ten minutes and favor three of them, she looks curiously over your shoulder. "They look great. Really outfit of the day vibe." You hand the phone back to her. "I like this one. And this one. You've captured my butt well," she grins and puts the phone in her black handbag before hooking it back up to you. "And now let's go. I'm really hungry and I don't want to keep your tiramisu from you."

Oh well.

Charles' words - "Then lie down on the bed, mon amour. I'd like to see how you look on it" - haunt your mind and the images that appear in your head don't make the situation any easier.

For example, Charles kneeling between your legs and his gaze wandering hungrily over your body. How his hands rest on your thighs to open them a little wider so that he can lie comfortably on his stomach between them. How he slides his fingers under the hem of your panties to slowly pull them off your legs. And the way his mouth moves up from the soft skin of your thighs to where you want it to be. Need it to be. The way he opens his mouth and licks his tongue over his lips before closing the distance between you and -

"Watch out. You start drooling." When you give Kika a confused look, she pokes you in the side. "I didn't know you could daydream about tiramisu."

"I wasn't even thinking about tiramisu," you defend yourself, but Kika doesn't believe a word you say.

"Of course not." You could even hear her grin if you weren't looking at her. She lifts her hand and puts it to your cheek, playfully wiping the non-existent spit from the corner of your mouth. "I hate to repeat myself, but you're really not very good at lying."

You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at your sneakers. "Is it that obvious?"

"That you're totally into tiramisu? Hardly," she replies wryly, but puts her arm around your shoulder. "Let's be honest. A trained eye like mine can spot something like that, but if you're worried about the boys seeing it - you really don't need to worry. They wouldn't even recognize a dessert if you put it right in front of them."

"I just don't know what to do," you confess to her.

Kika purses her lips. "Would you be ready for tiramisu after everything that's happened?"

A question you don't know the answer to. After Raphael's betrayal, you had actually sworn off men for a long time for fear that something similar would happen to you again. You tried to build a wall around your heart, but Charles has broken it down piece by piece and now there is only him. He has spread inside you, in your head and in your heart, and you are hungry for him - a feeling that you have never felt for Raphael before. A feeling that takes you by surprise and overruns you like an avalanche and you are helplessly at its mercy.

"It's not the end of the world if you're ready for it," Kika assures you and her smile is genuine. "And when you're ready to give the tiramisu its real name, I'll be here if you want to talk about it."

You hug your friend tightly, causing her to let out a loud gasp. "Thank you, Kika. Really."

"You don't need to thank me. After all, I'm going to make full use of the mirror in your room soon and use you for your photography skills."

A few minutes later, you arrive at the small restaurant. As you enter through the glass door, you can already see the two men sitting at a table at the back. And Kika was right - apart from the four of you, the restaurant is deserted.

"Where have you been?" asks Pierre as you join them. While Kika sits down opposite her boyfriend, you take the empty seat next to her. "We've been waiting for ages."

"We had to stop for a moment because I wanted to take photos," Kika explains and shows them both one of the pictures you took of her.

Pierre grimaces in amazement. "Very good photos. I hope you tag her in them too."

Playfully indignant, she puts her hand to her cleavage. "Of course! What makes you think I wouldn't do that? It might even land her more photo shoots with other models." She leans in your direction. "But as long as I remain your favorite model, everything's fine."

"You are and always will be my favorite model, Kika," you reply and briefly lean your cheek against the top of her head before she sits up straight again.

While Kika and Pierre argue lovingly, you feel Charles pressing one of his legs against yours under the table. When you look at him, he smiles. "Everything okay?" he asks silently, tilting his head.

You nod. "Everything's perfect." You press your leg against his as well.

The risotto you ordered doesn't taste too bad, even if it is a little more fancy than your typical meals. The boys talk about their sport and you try to understand everything, but when the conversation eventually turns to engines, you stop listening.

You watch Charles as he talks energetically and passionately to his friend about his job, while the French mainly listens. He tries to explain things with his hands, waving them wildly in front of his face, and if you didn't know him, you'd think he was a bit out of his mind. But there is something twinkling in his eyes, a spark that shines brighter and brighter the longer he talks about Formula 1.

It makes him so attractive that you have to swallow.

"How are Carlos and his girlfriend doing?" Kika interjects into the conversation. "I saw on Instagram the other day that they went on a trip together."

You look from Kika to Charles. "Who is Carlos?"

"My teammate at Ferrari. The other driver," he explains briefly with a smile before turning to Kika. "I've seen that too. Santorini or something, wasn't it? It was definitely nice, but let's see how long it lasts."

You have to ask again. " How long will it last? That doesn't sound like you have much faith in the relationship."

Kika, who has taken a sip of her water, puts her glass back on the table. "Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with faith," she explains and takes her cell phone out of her bag. She taps on it a little until she hands it to you.

You see an Instagram page of a Becca, also a model, it seems. 27 years old, model at the Bijou Management agency. Her last post is actually from Santorini and alongside all the pictures of her lolling by the pool is one of her with a man. Carlossainz55 is tagged in the picture.

"When you're famous, it's harder to have a relationship," Pierre continues. "Not everyone is so lucky and falls in love with someone who is a good match for them. Sometimes rumors surface about people that aren't true, but still damage reputations. And to counteract this, some people go into relationships that put them in a good light."

You look around in confusion. "So it's a marketing strategy? So that people can sell themselves better?"

Charles nods. "These PR relationships are very conspicuous and usually easy to see through, but even then they distract from the actual rumor."

"And Carlos and Becca are in one of those PR relationships?" Your friends nod. "And what's the rumor that needs to be put to rest?"

Charles bites the inside of his cheek. "Carlos was with a young, super-nice woman for years. When they broke up, there was a rumor that he had a secret family and even a son. That this was the reason for the break-up. And that triggered a few conversations at Ferrari." He shrugs his shoulders. "And then they pulled Becca in for him."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Pulled her in? How do you find someone to willingly agree to a fake relationship like that?"

Kika catches your attention. "Some racing teams have a cooperation with certain modeling agencies for such cases. Which of course makes the whole thing even more conspicuous. But just think how much publicity the girlfriends get from it. It definitely doesn't hurt the modeling job."

"But you also have to understand that millions of euros are attached to a driver's reputation," Pierre explains. "Fans buy tickets to see their favorite driver. They buy merchandise like shirts, caps or whatever to show their loyalty. And loyalty is not exactly low. Ask Charles. One priest has his whole Instagram page dedicated to him."

As you look at your roommate, he can only nod. "That's true. Fans put their favorites on pedestals, praise them to the skies and would defend them to the bitter end. But a rumor that is so serious and has consequences like falling sales figures - anything is better than fans who refuse to support their favorites."

"And why do you think it won't be good for much longer?" Charles looks nervously around the room as if he doesn't know what to say, and his friends also avoid your gaze and your question. "Guys, I don't know these people. So, whatever you tell me - I can't do anything with the information anyway. Is there another woman?"

"It's not exactly another woman," Kika mumbles into her glass and all heads turn in her direction. "What is it? Like she's going to run to the nearest news agency and tell them that the Spanish Ferrari driver isn't exclusively into women."

You raise your hands placatingly. "In case it's not clear - of course I'll keep everything that's said around the table to myself. I'm not crazy and risking our friendship."

"I didn't expect anything else," Charles replies with a smile that could melt glaciers. "I couldn't bear it if we weren't friends anymore either."

As you look at him and mindlessly lick your lips, you feel Kika's elbow gently on your arm.

"What do you think? Do you fancy some tiramisu?"

Your gaze lingers on Charles and when he presses his leg a little harder against yours, your breath hitches. "I'm craving it."

And indeed. The tiramisu isn't as good as the one at the restaurant where you met Kika and Pierre, but it comes close. You try to look away from Charles, but every time you look at him, his eyes are already on you. Something that makes you even more nervous than it should.

When you get into the car a short time later, unnoticed, you glance briefly over the seats back into the trunk. "Where's the new bed?"

Charles straps himself in and has the seat belt fastened against his torso. "They'll deliver it between Christmas and New Year and set it up straight away. Then I won't have all the work and Pierre won't have to lug it around with me."

"For which I am very grateful," replies the Frenchman, steering the car through the streets of Monaco. "I don't even know how we're going to transport this mirror without breaking it. It was already barely possible to get it into the car."

"That sounds like a you-problem," grins Kika, looking at her boyfriend through the rear-view mirror. "You're the strong men. You'll find a solution while we get all the little things into the apartment. Right?"

The question is directed at you, but apart from a nod, she can't expect anything else in response. Charles's fingers are once again wrapped around your calf, his thumb gently stroking your warm skin and you can't think of anything else but the feeling of warmth that spreads through you from this small touch.

It takes a good hour for both the mirror and the rest to get to the upstairs in your apartment. After Pierre involuntarily teaches you several swear words in French and Kika decorates your entire windowsill with fake plants, they quickly make a run for it, worried that you're both going to take even more advantage of them than you already have.

"We've had a good day so far," you call out to Charles from the kitchen as you pour you both a glass of water each. You don't know where he is, but he will probably have heard you anyway.

"Definitely," comes his voice from the living room. As you follow it, you see Charles sitting on the large couch, his head back and his eyes closed. Only now do you notice how thick his neck is. Is it from all the training for Formula 1?

"Here." You hold his glass of water out to him and he opens his eyes to accept it. As you sit down, he takes a sip. You watch his Adam's apple bounce as he swallows.

"Thank you," he replies quietly and rests his arm on the back of the couch. A sign for you to lean against him, which you definitely don't refuse.

As you snuggle into his side and breathe in his unmistakable scent, you feel tiredness overtake you. "But it was exhausting."

""Mh-mhh."

"Thanks again. For my early Christmas present. Even though it wasn't necessary," you joke, but as rigid as Charles is sitting next to you, he doesn't seem to be in the mood for jokes. And as you follow his stare, the roses on the white piano come into your field of vision. The reason why you suggested the trip to the furniture store. And suddenly your tiredness is blown away.

"Do you happen to know anyone who has something like a fire bowl or something?" you ask your flatmate.

This question seems to break him out of his spell. His gaze wanders from the roses to you and he raises an eyebrow in confusion. "A fire bowl?" You nod. "Joris has a rooftop terrace and we've had bonfires there before in the summer." He licks his teeth once. "What do you need a fire bowl for? You're not thinking about sitting around a fire with sticks and marshmallows in winter, are you?"

"Not exactly," you reply and get up from the couch. As you look down at him, you hold out your hand. "Come on, mon joli. I have an idea."

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graysbullshit · 1 year

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small thread of details that non-portuguese speakers might not have noticed about the portuguese streamers (and their cubitos):

q!forever is way louder than cc!forever, for two reasons: he speaks louder instinctively to make people understand him and his audio is fucked lol;

cc!cellbit is very expressive, despite having a very calm voice. It makes it seem like q!cellbit is calm and collected, but then you watch his stream and he is just 😱😭😤🙈🤯

felps is just like that. he aint acting thats just him being his usual self,

q!cellbit seems to believe q!felps wholeheartedly, because cc!cellbit just plays Yes, And with any crazy thing that comes out of felps' mouth,

tazercraft have this bit in which pac will mimic mike's accent and mike will respond by making it even thicker,

you might have heard from cellbit's chat that they are scared of him, that's because he lectures the chat when they fuck up and he has none of that "oh, i need to be extra-nice to my audience because the costumer is always right" attitude. on the contrary, he is very much the embodyment of "if you don't like it don't watch." It sorta freaked me out that he apologized for the jokes they were making with Jesse, because I was sure he was gonna tell people to fuck off,

cellbit once got kicked out of a convention because there was too many of his fans,

#qsmp #q!forever #q!felps #q!cellbit #q!pactw #q!mikethelink #cc!forever #cc!cellbit #tazercraft

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hotsinglesmusic · 4 months

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warframe is so weird because

You are always running into a thing you haven't tried out yet

"The sprimblaya is soo op! Its super boring to use, has a 10 minute reload time and stuns everyone in a 5 mile radius whenever i use it but damage number big so its meta"

"The three letters on this coaster have extreme lore implications"

Running into a glitch while in a squad and apologizing to each other about it

"look at my cool stalker fashionframe, I think it looks really cool" (it's just pitch black and violently saturated red)

Some random guy in region chat complaining about how he can't say words anymore, he will also use Grendel as shorthand for fat shaming seemingly unaware of what he's doing

Certain warframes/builds that can just completely change the game (Grendel, Speedva, Titania, Yareli, Zephyr)

Solaris United rank 5

Someone living out their entire game in character as their operator oc, making social media posts in character, extremely dedicated to saying everything in character. Their fashion also usually looks like a skyrim mod (sometimes they do it in third person and speak about their operator like it's their little virtual pet)

"look at my cool fashionframe, i did the newer thing but prime" (it's just white and violently yellow gold)

Some random person in relay chat offering blowjobs in exchange for an affinity blessing

Spending more time customizing shit/optimizing builds than you spend playing the game

"look at my cool fashionframe" (Their philosophy seems to be that every single customization slot needs to be filled by something or they will die)

Dropping into a lobby where two players frantically type brazilian portuguese/italian/etc in the chat and you don't understand the language but you understand enough to think that they might be making fun of you

Some random person in region chat saying the horniest shit imaginable

"look at my cool fashionframe" (it actually looks insanely good except the item they used is something you simply cannot get even if you wanted to pay $40000 for it)

Playing the most immersive, best quest ever only to find out that you are physically incapable of beating the archons and you have to teach your little brother how to play warframe just to finish the quest

I can go on and I will

#warframe #idk

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pickingupmymercedes · 5 months

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Thank you, for everything (it takes a village) - Lewis Hamilton ft. Ayrton Senna

Little something for the 30th Anniversary of Senna's legacy

pairing: Senna! Reader X Lewis Hamilton

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, 30th anniversary of Senna's legacy

wordcount: +4k

song: In your arms - Birdy

a/n: People in Brasil don't say is the anniversary of his death but rather of his legacy, and it's such a beautiful way to see it. I hope Ayrton knows, wherever he is, how loved he still is.

a/n.2: Ayrton was known as Beco/Becão by his family and friends

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi! (Also, my written portuguese is a bit rusty, so if there's anything weird, please let me know)

______________________________________________________________

When hope went away I still held on, to the love that you gave, it’s all I’ve got of you now. I will never know you, don’t get to understand, no answers to questions. It’s too late for that. But I was in your arms, once

A pre-dawn Miami humidity clung to y/n like a second skin, even inside the automatically cooled hotel room. The city slept, but the salty air carried a raw energy that mirrored the turmoil brewing within her. Today, the 1st of May, was a day she always needed to face alone.

She laid there, staring at the ceiling, the weight growing with each passing moment. Today, the air itself seemed thick with an unspoken grief, a shared memory of loss that resonated across the globe. 30 years. Three decades since the world had watched in horror as lives changed forever, hers included.

The sheets felt too restrictive, the silence too loud. Pulling them back, she tiptoed past the rumpled form of Lewis, still fast asleep. He'd offered to come with her, to run by the beach together, but she needed this. Needed the solitude, the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement to chase away the ghosts of a past she barely remembered.

Miami slept, bathed in the faint glow of pre-dawn light, but Y/N felt wide awake, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Stepping out onto the balcony, the salty air stung her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean, the darkness slowly giving way to a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a silent tribute to a love stolen too soon. Every year on this day, it was as if the world held its breath, waiting for her grief to surface. This anniversary wasn't a celebration; it was a stark reminder of the void that had forever shaped her life.

The need to move, to outrun the memories that threatened to consume her, became an insistent ache. With each step, a memory flickered to life, but one always stood out the most, the one few people knew of.

She was four, piloting her tiny kart around a makeshift track at Interlagos. The familiar scent of burnt rubber and exhaust fumes flooded her senses, transporting her back to a time before tragedy struck. Y/n grinned, her hair whipping in the wind, as she pushed her little kart to its limits.

A wild turn, a sickening jolt, and the world tilted sideways. Then, strong arms scooped her up. "Tudo bem aí, filha?" (Everything okay there, darling?) Her father's voice, warm and reassuring. He checked her over, a playful glint in his dark brown eyes. "Você tava indo bem, se assustou?" (You were doing great, did you scare yourself?)

Y/n shook her head, a defiant tear clinging to her cheek. “Eu acho que tá bom por hoje já.” (I think that’s enough for today) Ayrton ruffled her hair, a conforting glint in his eyes. “Não pai, eu quero baixar o tempo da volta”(No dad, I wanna lap faster) little y/n stood her ground, already half way back into her kart. "Vamos voltar lá e mostrar como se faz então, Senninha” (Let’s go back there and show who’s boss then, Senninha).

The memory faded, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the waves. Y/n stopped, chest heaving. Frustration gnawed at her. She would never know that feeling of hearing him cheer her on in that deep, familiar voice again. All she had were these fleeting snippets, these echoes of a life stolen too soon.

Each stride was a battle cry against the past, a desperate attempt to find some semblance of peace. She ran until the sun climbed higher, painting the sky in vibrant hues, until her lungs burned and her legs screamed for mercy. Finally, Y/n slowed to a walk, chest heaving, sweat stinging her eyes.

Collapsing onto a weathered bench, she leaned forward, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. As the initial wave of exhaustion subsided, a new clarity washed over her. The memories would always be there, a bittersweet reminder of a love lost.

But today, she would celebrate his life, his passion, his legacy that lived on, not just in her name, but in the hearts of countless who still chanted his name at races.

Returning to the hotel, Y/n showered, the steam slowly clearing the remnants of the run and the emotional turmoil. Opening the bathroom door, she found Lewis propped up on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, a concerned look in his warm brown eyes.

"Morning," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "Early run?"

She offered a tired smile. "Needed to clear my head." She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling a towel around her damp hair. "Big day ahead"

Lewis put down his phone, his gaze intent on her. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice softer now. "You alright?"

Taking another deep breath, she met his gaze. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Just… emotional, even more so this year"

Lewis reached out and took her hand, his touch a warm anchor in the storm of her emotions. "No judgment," he said quietly. "Today isn't easy for you, I know."

Y/n leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his understanding. "Interviews all day and the dinner at night" she sighed. "They want me to relive it all – the memories, the grief. It gets exhausting sometimes."

Lewis nodded. "Maybe you could have your people reschedule some of it. There's no need to—"

She cut him off with a gentle shake of her head. "No, Lew. I can't hide from it. Today may be hard, but it's important. It's a chance to celebrate his life, to keep his memory alive." she squeezed his hand, a newfound determination strengthening her resolve. "I just…" she hesitated, her voice thick with emotion, "I wish I could remember more."

Lewis's gaze softened further. "You may not have years of childhood memories, but you carry his spirit in you. His passion, his strength, that's part of who you are."

Y/n looked out the window, at the city slowly waking up to a new day. His words held truth. She may not have clear memories of her father, but his legacy, his love, was woven into the fabric of her being.

Taking another deep breath, she met Lewis's gaze, a small smile danced in her eyes "I hope so.”

Today would be impossibly hard. As people celebrated a hero, she would mourn a loss, but they would all be facing the future nonetheless. He may have been gone, but the love he gave her remained, with her and in her.

"I remember you my way, It’s not perfect or fair, I paint you with colours, That weren’t ever there. Feels harder these days after so long, ‘Cause my memory fades"

The sterile hotel conference room felt strangely warm, the air thick with a mix of anticipation and unspoken grief. Y/n sat opposite Galvão Bueno, the legendary Brazilian motorsport commentator, his kind eyes reflecting a lifetime of witnessing triumphs and tragedies on the track.

But this wasn't just another interview. Galvão knew Ayrton. Knew him not just as a driver, but as a friend, a competitor, a kindred spirit who left a void in Brazilian hearts, and most acutely, in Y/n's.

The interview began, a dance between formality and shared history. Galvão's questions flowed, laced with a quiet respect that Y/n appreciated. "Ayrton" he began, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips "sempre teve uma maneira diferente de cativar o público” (always had a way of captivating a room"

Y/n nodded, a flicker of curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Ele tinha” (He did) she admitted "Mas para ser bem honesta, eu lembro de sempre ficar puxando ele para sair dos lugares porque ele parava para conversar com todo mundo” (But to be honest, I remember always dragging him out of every room because he would stop and talk to everyone)

A warm chuckle escaped Galvão's lips at her confession. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Você sabia que antes de toda corrida, ele fazia um ritualzinho? Ele parava na frente do carro, fechava os olhos, e... bom, ninguém sabe direito o que ele fazia. Mas ele tocava o carro em três lugares específicos – o nariz, a roda direita dianteira, e aqui” (Did you know that before every race, he'd have this little ritual? He'd stand by his car, close his eyes, and…well, no one knew exactly what he did, but he'd touch the car in three specific places – the nose cone, the front right wheel, and then, right here) Galvão tapped his chest over his heart.

Y/n smiled, surprised that someone still remembered that sequence. But, although this was the Ayrton Senna she knew from the countless documentaries and newsreels, how he recounted that from memory was a glimpse of a private Ayrton, a man seeking solace and strength before the roar of the engines began, not something she would notice while watching a video.

"E tem mais, Senninha” (There's more, Senninha) he said, using the affectionate nickname many Brazilians called her by. "Você sabe que ele era muito supersticioso. Ele nunca usava um capacete novo pela primeira vez em um final de semana de corrida. Sempre insistia em um mais velho, mesmo que estivesse ruim para usar.” (He was fiercely superstitious, you see. He wouldn't wear a new helmet for the first time on a race weekend. Always insisted on the old one, even if it was a little worse for wear.)

Y/n couldn't help but let out a small laugh, a welcome sound that broke the tension in the room. "Parece exatamente algo que ele faria” (That sounds exactly like something he’d do) she said, a newfound appreciation blooming in her chest.

Galvão continued, weaving a tapestry of anecdotes. He spoke of Ayrton's meticulous work ethic, his relentless pursuit of perfection, and then, with a twinkle in his eye, of his playful side. "Ele sempre arrastava os reporters brasileiros para o kart em Interlagos, lá onde você aprendeu a pilotar” (He'd always drag Brazilian reporters to go-kart at Interlagos, right there where you learned how to race" he reminisced, a fond smile creasing his face. "E deixa eu te contar, seu pai sempre ganhava da gente, por muito!" (And let me tell you, your father would always beat us, by far)

Y/n listened, captivated. These were stories of a man, not just a legend. A man who found joy in competition, even outside the high-pressure world of Formula One. As the interview progressed, a kaleidoscope of Ayrton unfolded before her, a man filled with complexities and contradictions, yet undeniably her father.

Stepping out of the stifling conference room, Y/n felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Galvão's interview had stirred a potent cocktail of emotions within her – a heady mix of pride, nostalgia, and a gnawing sense of loss. Back in her hotel room, she found her ant Viviane unpacking a basket of goodies as she waited for her youngest niece. The scent of warm pão de queijo filled the air, a familiar comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Você chegou, florzinha" (You’re here, little flower) the elder woman said, her voice as warm as the sun, pulling Y/n into a tight embrace. "Como foi?” (How did it go)

Y/n sank into the hug, the scent of lavender and her ant’s comforting embrace temporarily pushing aside the weight of the interview. "Foi bom” (It was good) she mumbled, pulling away slightly. “Galvão knew Dad well, that's for sure” y/n’s changed to English, hoping it’d be okay to use the language she didn’t have to think so hard to answer back in.

Both women sat by the outdoor sitting area of the room, the crash of the waves a comforting distraction as y/n ate the last bits of the cheese bread that were being served all day during the interviews on the anniversary and promotions for the new Netflix show.

"I believe everything's going well for the dinner latter tonight” the younger offered, more out of obligation than conviction. Viviane’s gaze sharpened, the lines around her eyes crinkling with a quiet understanding. She held Y/n’s gaze until she asked "But something troubles you, doesn't it?"

Y/n hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. It was a familiar pattern her family knew all too well, the switch to English, the fiddling, the lack of glint in the eyes she had inherited from Ayrton.

Taking a deep breath, y/n confessed, "It's just…all these interviews, all these stories about Dad. I feel like everyone knew a part of him I never did."

A shadow flickered across Viviane’s face, a brief echo of the grief they both still carried. She reached out, gently squeezing Y/n's hand. "My love" she began, her voice soft yet firm “Beco was a complex man. Even those closest to him couldn't fully grasp him. He was a whirlwind, a force of nature on the track, but off it…" she paused, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "He was a private man, and yes, perhaps a little distant at times. He lived for his racing, dedicating every fiber to it."

Y/n nodded, a familiar ache tightening her chest. "It's not that I blame him," she said quietly. "He was the best."

Viviane’s smile softened. "He was, my darling. But being the best came at a cost. It left little room for the mundane, the everyday things that build memories."

A flicker of a childhood memory sparked in Y/n's mind – the faint scent of her father's cologne, the warmth of his hand enveloping hers as they walked through a park. They weren't grand gestures, but they were hers, proof of a love that existed beyond trophies and championships.

The elder saw the shift in Y/n's eyes, the glimmer of a forgotten memory. "Não se compare com o Galvão ou com qualquer outro, meu amor” (Don't compare yourself to Galvão or the others, my love) she said gently. "Você é a filha dele. Você conheceu o Beco, o homem com o mesmo olhar que o seu” (You are his daughter. You knew Beco, the man with the same eyes as yours)

Y/n's gaze drifted out to the bustling Miami cityscape, a blur compared to the vivid image forming in her mind's eye – a playful smile on her father's face as he taught her how to say pão de queijo. It was a fleeting memory, but a precious one nonetheless.

The stories, though fragmented, were pieces of a larger puzzle, a picture of her father that was starting to take shape, not just as a legendary driver, but as a man capable of love, laughter, and quiet moments of joy.

As they finished their lunch, Viviane placed a comforting hand on Y/n's cheek. "Go now, my darling," she said, her voice soft yet strong. "Celebrate your father, honor his memory. But don't forget to celebrate the love you shared, the love that lives on within you."

Y/n nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, this time tears of gratitude for the woman who had been a constant source of love and support throughout her life. Leaning in, they embraced tightly. "Obrigada, tia. Por tudo" (Thank you, antie. For everything) she whispered, the words thick with emotion.

As she left the hotel room later, for another round of interviews before the official dinner, Y/n went to the window, gazing out at the ocean once again, taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Obrigada, pai. Por tudo.” (Thank you, dad. For everything). It was a simple phrase, but for her, it held the weight of a lifetime of love and an unspoken promise to keep his legacy alive.

"And these aren’t tears because you’re gone, But for all the years that we lost, All those times I missed that love, Had it just for a moment"

As the night dawned in Miami, the heat dissipated but the humidity continued to clung to the city like a second skin. Y/n bustled around the room, a flurry of nervousness. The dinner to celebrate Ayrton Senna’s legacy started in a couple of hours and although the event had been meticulously planned for weeks, and by at least 30 people, the weight of the world felt concentrated on Y/n shoulder’s, the formal host to the dinner.

Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his lower waist, beads of water clinging to his dark braids. He stopped short at the sight of Y/n, a smile spreading across his face as he took sight of her sat perched on the edge of the bed, a faded white t-shirt of his hanging loosely on her frame, a white towel turbaned around her wet hair.

"Planning on hitting the town like that?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "Although" he added, his voice dropping a touch lower, "I do love the look."

Y/n laughed, a sound that banished the last vestiges of worry from Lewis's heart. "Not quite," she said, her smile widening. "I’m trying to figure out what to post"

He noticed her phone held open on the bed, displaying two video options. As he walked closer, his bare chest brushing against hers for a fleeting moment – a small reminder of the intimacy they shared – Y/n looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a light he hadn't yet seen earlier in the day.

"Help me choose" she said, her voice filled with a newfound energy.

He picked her up and sat her on his laps, occupying her place by the edge of the bed, the scent of his shower gel a subtle but pleasant counterpoint to the sweet aroma of the lotion she had applied. He leaned over to see the two videos.

The first one, showed a baby Y/n, barely a year old, toddling through a sun-dappled garden, her chubby arms flailing as she chased a flurry of brightly colored butterflies. In the background, Ayrton with a gentle smile on his face, playfully swatting the butterflies away from his daughter.

The second video, showed a slightly older Y/n, around two years-old, in a swimming pool. Ayrton, submerged in the water next to her, was demonstrating how to blow bubbles. Y/n, a mischievous glint in her eyes, mimicked his actions, creating a flurry of glistening bubbles that danced around her face.

"The bubble one. Something about that mischievous gleam in your eyes always has me hooked” Lewis said, amusement dancing in his voice

Y/n laughed, a sound so genuine and unburdened that it made Lewis's heart skip a beat. "I was always a rowdy thing" she admitted, a playful glint in her own eyes.

"A charming one, at that" Lewis confirmed, reaching out to kiss her shoulder. Picking the video, Lewis handed the phone back to her. "Let the world see that side to you" Y/n grinned, tapping on the screen to schedule the post.

She got up and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed, and a few minutes later Lewis walked into Y/n intently listening to her phone on speaker, as she fiddled with a stray curl as she spoke.

"Adriane" she soothed; her voice laced with a warmth that cut through the phone's static. "Você está indo como minha convidada, lembra?” (You're coming as my guest, remember?)

A nervous laugh tinkled on the other end. “Eles sabem disso?” (Do they know that?). Andriane, Ayrton's last girlfriend and a prominent Brazilian television personality.

Y/n bit her lip, a pang of sympathy shooting through her. "Eu sei.” (I do know) she sighed. "Eu sei que eles nunca realmente te aceitaram, mas você era diferente. Você foi a única que ele me apresentou” (I know they never really accepted you, but you were different. You were the only one he introduced to me."

A brief silence followed, then Adriane spoke, her voice softer now. "Ele queria uma família, Y/n. Uma família para você. Ele sempre falava isso, seu futuro, com ele” (He wanted a family, Y/n. A family for you. He talked about it all the time, your future, with him)

Y/n's heart clenched. Memories flickered – fleeting glimpses of her father smiling at her from across a dinner table, his eyes holding a tenderness she hadn't quite understood at the time. Perhaps, she thought, there had been more to those moments than she'd realized.

"Obrigada Adriane, por tudo. Por ter sido parte da vida dele, e por ser parte da minha, do seu jeito.” (Thank you Adriane, for everything. For being a part of his life, and for being a part of mine, in your own way) she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Adriane sniffled softly and then laughed “Você é tão charmosa quanto ele, Senninha” (You are as much of a charmer as he was, Senninha) a sound that banished the last traces of tension. "Vai dar tudo certo.” (Everything will be alright)

With a final exchange of goodbyes, Y/n hung up. Glancing over at Lewis, who was attempting to catch the few Portuguese words he could understand. She took a deep breath. "My family’s not gonna make this any easier" she sighed, her voice hesitant.

Lewis turned and reached for her, pulling her by the waist with a questioning look etched on his face. Y/n, feeling a flicker of anxiety, explained the conversation, but mostly of the unwavering loyalty she felt towards the woman who held such a significant piece of her father's story.

As she finished, Lewis placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "You miss him, don't you?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding as you gave him a sad smile and nod.

"It doesn't matter how long it's been" Lewis continued, his voice firm yet gentle. "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Y/n remained silent, the weight of his words settling in. He knew the anniversary was a constant reminder, a punch to the gut every year. He could only imagine the whirlwind of emotions it brought – the bittersweet memories mixed with the crushing weight of what could have been.

"It feels unfair, sometimes…" she started, her voice catching signaling she wouldn’t complete her thoughts. Lewis tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. "It is unfair," he agreed, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

Y/n leaned into his touch, seeking solace in his words and the steady beat of his heart. The dam finally broke, and a light sob went thought her body. Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent. Lewis held her close, whispering reassurances against her hair, letting her feel without judgment.

"Every year," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "it's like a punch to the gut. A reminder of all the birthdays, holidays, just…everyday moments I missed with him." Her voice cracked. "Everyone has stories, memories. They remember his laugh, his jokes, his warmth. All I have are these…flashes of moments, barely enough to string together a semblance of who he was."

Lewis didn't try to fix it, to offer empty platitudes. He simply held her gaze as she spoke, a silent promise etched in his eyes. He wouldn't try to replace the memories she never had, but he would be a part of her future, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold.

“It's okay to mourn the future that was stolen from you” he whispered, his voice gentle, as Y/n leaned into his touch, a flicker of something akin to peace flickering in her eyes. "Do you think he would have liked me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The question hung heavy in the air. It was a question she'd probably grappled with for years, a silent fear gnawing at the edges of her grief. Lewis knew he couldn't give her a definitive answer, but he could offer her the solace of a possibility.

"There's no doubt he would have loved you fiercely." he said, his voice firm with conviction. “And he would have been so proud of the woman you've become."

Silence settled between them once more, but this time it was a comfortable silence, filled with a newfound understanding. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For being here, for listening, for understanding."

Y/n turned, her eyes meeting his in the mirror, a fresh wave of tear forming in her eyelids. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"These aren't sad tears" she explained, wiping away at her eyes "They're just…wish you were here' kind of tears… For this" Y/n gestured at the phone on the counter. "For the celebration, for being surrounded by people who loved him. I just wish he could be here too."

Her voice softened, an acceptance in her eyes. The pain and loss would always be there, a part of her story. But there was also space for joy, for celebrating his life, and for building a future for herself.

As he pulled her into a warm embrace, Lewis whispered into her ear, "He is here, Y/n. In you, in your strength, in the mischief you still carry in your eyes. Every step you take forward is partly because of his love for you."

They stood there for a moment longer, a silent conversation passing between them. Y/n pulled away, wiping the last vestiges of moisture from her cheeks.

"Alright then" she said, a playful glint back in her eyes. "Let's go celebrate Dad. And show Miami a little Brazilian hospitality."

Lewis grinned. "Lead the way" his arms wrapping her and turning her around so he could kiss her.

The 30th anniversary of his death, although grim and a meticulously planned affair, held a significance that went beyond events, interview and RSVPs. It was a celebration of a life well-lived, a father cherished, and a daughter determined to carry his legacy forward, one mischievous bubble at a time.

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#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #senna!reader #ayrton senna #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #formula 1

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