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writeyouin · 8 months ago

Note

Oo I got something for TFO

If possible would you be open to doing a human s/o with D-16? Like the human came from another planet that was destroyed and they got stranded on Cybertron and somehow managed to end up in Iacon city?

D-16 (Megatron) x Reader – The Creature From Another World - Part 1 of 2

A/N – This is so much longer than I thought it would be. I think it may be the most fun, silly fic I’ve ever written and I am so happy that I got to write it. Also, SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE TRANSFORMERS ONE MOVIE IN THE FINAL SEGMENT!

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

It was all Orion’s fault. Everything that was likely to get D-16 in trouble was his fault. It was always, ‘Hey, what if we searched the tunnels for something even more valuable than energon?’ Or ‘You want to come into the archives with me? Of course, I have a permit. It’s not like I would try breaking in… again.’

This time, the line that was sure to get D-16 into trouble was, “Hey bud, don’t tell anyone but I got us a pet!”

D-16 rubbed his helm exasperatedly, “A pet, Pax! Why can’t you just obey the rules for once.”

“Hey, there are no rules against keeping pets,” Orion said excitedly, heading over to his locker to retrieve the creature in question.

“Of course there aren’t! Because no one would be stupid enough to keep one!”

“You just haven’t seen it yet. It’s really cute.”

“I hope your spark eater tears off your face, Pax. I really do,” D-16 deadpanned.

“Not a spark eater,” Orion chuckled, then he began whispering into his locker, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya, little cutie. That’s it, settle down now.”

D-16 shook his head, “You’re gonna get demoted all the way down to the 40th sub-level and when you do, I’m not gonna save your sorry aft. Besides Pax, there isn’t enough energon to go around as is. How’re you gonna feed a pet?”

“That’s the thing,” Orion said eagerly. “It doesn’t fuel up on energon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What kind of thing doesn’t need energon?” D-16 asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him as he tried to peek over Orion’s shoulder at the so-called ‘pet’ he was trying to grab.

He heard some scrabbling, Orion said some more soothing words and then Orion turned around, holding a creature half his size around the waist in both servos.

“D-16, meet our new pet, Minitronus.”

“Minitronus!” D-16 said excitedly. He knew Orion had only picked the name to foster his attachment and ensure that he kept the creature a secret.

D-16 got close to Orion’s pet, resting his hands on his thighs as he bent down. “Whoa, what is it?”

“C’mon D-16. If you don’t know, I’m not gonna tell you.”

“You have no idea, do you.”

“Not a one.”

The creature chittered angrily, pushing at Orion’s servos.

“It looks angry,” D-16 observed.

“It’s just getting used to us. That’s all.”

Orion began stroking at the creature’s head.

“Okay Pax,” D-16 said, resigning himself to Orion’s crazy new pet, as he knew he would from the start. “C’mon then. Tell me all about it. What does it eat? Where’d you find it? And most importantly, how’re we going to keep it a secret?”

“Hey! I said HEY! YOU UP THERE! STOP PETTING ME! I’M NOT AN ANIMAL, YOU BIG DUMB IDIOT!”

The giant metal man smiled at you affectionately, opening his mouth to say something you couldn’t understand. It all sounded like scraping metal and electrical noises and you couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Ever since the Quintessons had abducted you, your life had been nothing but trouble. You were their prisoner but when they found out your planet had nothing of worth, they decided it would be better to experiment on you. The only consolation was that you could at least understand the Quintessons, who had multiple translator devices on their ship.

You were very fortunate that the Quintessons didn’t view you as a threat since they didn’t bother keeping you in any kind of high-security prison and so you managed to escape before they did anything too terrible. The worst you suffered were a few zaps from a weak cattle prod, probably testing your nervous system.

Yet, having escaped the Quintesson ship, you had landed yourself into deeper trouble. You had found yourself on a living metal planet, and though a few plants grew on the ever-transforming surface, the pocket computer you had stolen from your captors informed you they were poisonous.

Fortunately, you had thought a few things through regarding your escape. You had managed to grab a backpack, stuffing it full of provisions and interesting gadgets. The food was stored in dehydrated cubes so with proper care, it could last you months, maybe even an entire year. The backpack also contained a device to keep you warm, a cube that turned into a forcefield when thrown to the ground, and most importantly one of the translators that had allowed you to understand the Quintessons along with a few other gadgets.

However, despite your planning, things hadn’t gone very well for you. After touching down on the planet, you boarded a train that you hoped would take you to civilisation, and while it did take you to a city underground that was more beautiful and advanced than you could imagine, it was clear that the alien life-forms there had never seen an organic creature before.

The few you tried to talk to initially screamed as if you were vermin and tried to blast, stab, and crush you in succession. As you scrambled for your life, you took a kick to the back, saved by your pack which had broken your much-needed translator.

You ran and hid, keeping out of sight and soon you started feeling like the vermin the metal people viewed you as. You learned quickly to keep out of sight and made your way to where there were fewer bots, spending many quiet hours either sleeping in vents or trying to repair your translator with the limited knowledge you had.

Yet, your luck couldn’t last forever and eventually, you ran into a vent that turned out to be a transportation tunnel to and from the mines. It was there that Mr Big-Red-Idiot-Bot caught you and took you to the charging bays. At first, you thought your luck was turning around and that he was going to take you to someone who would be able to understand you since he was obviously trying to be gentle with you. Then it became clear that he just thought you were some kind of stupid animal in need of care and he adopted you as his pet.

“What are these things?” D-16 asked, gently lifting your top.

You slapped at his servo, swearing at him even though he couldn’t understand you. Orion laughed, “I don’t know, but that’s how it reacted to me too. I think they’re to keep it warm. Either way, it doesn’t like it when you touch them. Oh, and hey, check this out, it does tricks.”

Orion shoved you back into his locker where your bag was. You ran to your pack, hurriedly grabbing your broken translator and showing it to the new grey bot. You had tried repeatedly showing it to Big Red, but he didn’t get what you were trying to do and always just laughed at you.

“What’s it holding?” D-16 asked.

“Playing with some scrap metal. Isn’t that cute? It has a favourite toy! I think Minitronus might have belonged to someone else once because it has all these adorable toys in there and it can make its own fuel.”

You sighed. Clearly, the grey bot was no better than Big Red, but at least he wasn’t trying to kill you. You shook your head and began searching your pack for some tools to repair the translator. Upon seeing you grab a screwdriver, Orion took it from you.

You yelled a few more insults, demanding it back but Orion just teased you, holding it just out of reach.

“Aww does Minitronus want the toy? Do you? Do you? That’s it, reach for the toy. Grab it.” He cooed.

D-16 rolled his eyes, amused by both Orion and his new pet. He snatched the miniature ‘toy’ screwdriver from his friend, handing it back to you. “Don’t tease it, Orion.”

You nodded gratefully at D-16 and he ruffled your hair. This time, you didn’t bother insulting him since he had given you what you wanted.

The work alarm went off overhead and Orion slammed his locker shut just in time for the influx of workers to come through the shared stasis bunker on their way to work. D-16 tried to fight against the crowd to stay by the locker but Orion pulled him into the fray, muttering that it would look suspicious if he wasn’t at work on time.

“But what about- Will it be okay in there?” D-16 whispered as they headed into the lift.

“Sure,” Orion said from the corner of his mouth, trying to be quiet. “It’s been in there for days and it's been fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Now be quiet and act normal.”

D-16 smiled and gave a small awkward wave to a bot in front of him who was observing the pair with a raised optical ridge. Over the years, Orion had caused more than his share of trouble so D-16 was used to the scrutinising looks from others, though he always got nervous when they both had something to hide.

You sighed and rested your hands on your hips. It was awful being constantly stuffed in a locker, especially since Big Red didn’t seem to think things through. He shoved you in your new ‘home’ whenever other bots were around or when he went to the lift which you assumed meant he was working. The problem with that was that his species didn’t tire easily and could work a very long time, and with this being what you could only assume was the poorer part of the city, there were always other bots around. You had to get your translator fixed quickly, or else you would spend the rest of your life in the locker. Still, things weren’t all bad. It was warm and safe. You often used your backpack as a pillow, sleeping through the first few hours before getting back to your repair work. You had privacy and a personal collapsable service suite that pulled moisture from the air so you could drink or shower - it even took care of your waste by vaporising it; alien inventions sure were convenient. Besides, now the other bot knew about you too, and perhaps he could help you. Resignedly, you set about keeping to your normal routine and began some light repair work, too awake to rest now. You only wished you knew what you were doing and that you had even the faintest idea on how to fix alien technology; your life depended on it.

Orion and D-16 were the first up and out of the elevator, avoiding the usual crowds by skipping the last few minutes of work with a lame excuse about being called upstairs. Honestly, the pair got into so much trouble they were often called up to meetings with higher-ups for tellings-off, which Orion usually tried to talk his way out of, and so nobody so much as batted an optic when they left.

Upon getting up to their quarters, Orion and D-16 were both relieved to see that the rotation team had already filed out, presumably having taken one of the other lifts to a different mine. Orion ran to his locker and hurled it open.

“Aww, look,” He pulled D-16 close to get a good look at you. “Minitronus is recharging. Hey, do you think it’s dreaming of us? Pets do that, right? Dream of their owners?”

“I mean, if Minitronus is thinking of me, that’s a dream. If it’s you, it’s a nightmare.”

Orion elbowed D-16 in the chassis then reached in to grab you.

D-16 pulled him back, “Whoa hey, don’t wake it.”

“We have to. It’s time for walkies and this is the only time we can get out of here quietly before the others catch up.”

Reluctantly, D-16 let Orion go.

You jolted awake, terrified until you remembered where you were and that you were now the ‘pet’ of an advanced alien. You settled groggily in his arms, wondering what he was going to do with you now.

He proffered you some words that sounded like two lawnmowers smashing together, but by his expression, you could tell he was happy. Then he jostled you, miming something you couldn’t understand until it was too late.

You scowled at Big Red with your arms folded, too insulted to even try yelling as he tugged you along an empty alley on your new wire lead.

This was a new low.

“I don’t think Minitronus likes walkies,” D-16 commented as you dug your heels into the floor, trying to hold your ground.

“Nonsense,” Orion said, trying to be gentle as he pulled at your lead, making you stumble forward, “It’s just not used to it yet.”

D-16 patted his thighs, “C’mon Minitronus. That’s it. Here Minitronus. Minitronus.”

After a few more attempts, you realised that the gentle electrical hum Grey kept repeating must be his name for you. Huh… Well, at least the repetition meant they had a stable language.

You listened again and tried to mimic the sound, making both bots pause to look at you.

“Did it just…?” D-16 asked, pointing at you.

You mimicked the sound again.

“It did,” Orion agreed. He ran over to pick you up, spinning you in his arms, “Who’s a smart Minitronus, huh? Yes, you. You are!”

Although your mimicry had been good, it wasn’t quite enough to convince them that you were sentient. Rather, they were looking at you like a parrot who had picked up a new phrase. Instead of repeating your name, you had managed a babyish mumbling somewhere close, that sounded more like Mini–Tron.”

D-16 beamed and petted your head, quickly coming to love his new pet. Orion was right, it was smart and cute.

“That’s so cool, I wonder if we can teach it more words.”

“I’m definitely teaching it swears,” Orion laughed.

Eventually, the pair headed back to the underground, with Orion heading in first, making sure everyone was recharging, before signalling for D-16 to follow with you.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t put me back in the locker,” You whined as you were placed on the top shelf.

“Oh no, don’t cry,” D-16 begged, listening to you pitchy chittering. He held a digit to his lips, shushing.

“You two will be gone for ages, what between sleeping and working, and it’s dark in there,” You continued, even though he couldn’t understand you.

You only stopped talking when he held you against his chassis, petting your head. You sighed in understanding. He was trying to keep you safe; this was all for your own good.

‘Okay,’ You thought, feeling strangely comforted by Grey’s actions. ‘If this is how it has to be for now… Okay.’

Orion gave an enthusiastic thumbs up to D-16, glad that he had managed to keep your mewls under control.

“Goodnight, Minitronus,” Orion whispered before shutting the door.

“We love you,” D-16 added.

You shook your head after the door shut; life was going to be interesting with those two.

“PAX!” Elita-One shouted, jetpacking up the empty elevator shaft to catch up with Orion and D-16 who had stolen away from work early for the third time that week.

Orion held you behind his back, hiding you just in time before Elita got in his face.

“Captain, what a surprise!” Orion grinned cheekily, already trying to smooth-talk his way out of the situation. “Me and D-16 were just saying what a great and wonderful leader you-”

“Can it, Pax!” Elita glowered. “I’ve had just about enough of you. It’s bad enough that you’re a troublemaker but now, you’re dragging D-16 down with you and- what’s behind your back?”

“My back? Nothing at all,” Orion shoved you into D-16’s open arms, and he in turn hid you behind his leg, trusting that you wouldn’t run away if he wasn’t holding you.

Elita grabbed hold of Orion, slamming him into the lockers, her eyes narrowing when she didn’t see anything worth hiding. She glared at D-16 who held up his servos in a shrug, gesturing to Pax who was already babbling about how strong she was and how no other Captain had had the strength to throw him so hard.

While Pax created a distraction and Elita-One continued her tirade against him, D-16 shuffled backwards, sneaking you out for your daily walk.

You had grown used to the routine now, learning the building’s alarms that marked the beginning or end of a shift. When it was coming time for Orion or D-16 to take you out, you always hitched on your backpack, just in case you needed anything, though you had long since learned not to work on your translator in front of Big Red, since he kept assuming it was a toy and continually threw it for you to fetch. Honestly, he was doing even more damage to the already broken machine, and it stressed you out constantly whenever you were forced to catch it before it hit the ground.

When you and Grey were alone, you always did repair work at the end of a walk, since he would take you somewhere quiet to rest for a while.

You had been living with the pair for just over two months now and in that time a few things of note had happened.

First, they had entrusted knowledge of you to a few of the others in their ‘platoon’ or whatever the group they worked in was called. This had happened after an incident wherein you had escaped your locker to explore and a silver and blue bot with a passion for dance stumbled into you and squealed. Big Red, and Grey hurried to your rescue and had to explain their ‘pet’ to him.

This led to you being the worst kept secret in the mining facility, though it was bound to happen eventually with so many bots living in close quarters. However, all the mining bots found you sweet enough and they all had a code of honour that meant they kept you secret from anyone with authority like Elita-One or any of the other captains.

Yet, while everyone knew about you and you were generally allowed out of the locker most of the time, it was still only Orion or D-16 who took you out, and they still tried to get out of work a tad early to check on you.

One of the other changes in your life was the delivery of a big bundle of wires as ‘toys.’ That was another word you had learned to mimic since Orion kept bringing you play-things and repeating the Cybertronian equivalent.

This happened after you kept picking up pieces of scrap wire on walks, taking them with you so you could use them in your repair work. At first, Orion and D-16 took them off you, afraid you would hurt yourself somehow, but when you kept collecting them and fought hard to keep the few you had, they assumed it must be a normal nesting behaviour and brought you a great deal more than you needed.

You were delighted with the gifts and hugged both bots for it. Then, after saving the few you needed for your translator, you weaved the extra wires into a new over-shirt. It was uncomfortable, but quite practical since your jumper was wearing away and you needed a new one to keep decent when you were washing your actual shirt.

Another problem to occur was your hair. In your time with the bots, it had grown very long, and much to your bemusement, Orion had tried cutting it. The whole thing had gone disastrously, and you suddenly understood those dogs that got terrible haircuts because they tried to escape their groomers; you could only be thankful that the bald patch was beginning to grow back.

The final change was Grey’s idea. He felt confident that you were well trained since you now responded to your name, paying attention when you were called through the miners’ hab-suite. Because of your actions, he often let you off-lead, which you were immensely grateful for. He rarely put the lead back on you unless he thought something was unsafe, so whenever it went on now, you clambered onto his shoulder, trusting that he would take you home and away from danger quickly.

It wasn’t a perfect life, but things were slowly improving. You could only hope that your lucky streak didn’t break and that you would be able to communicate your needs fully before the year was up.

D-16 sighed, sitting on the side of a tall building overlooking the city with you in his lap. You were content to let him pet you while you toyed with your translator. You went in an almost trance-like state whenever you tinkered with it now, honestly not expecting anything to come of it but needing to work all the same.

He continued speaking in his gentle, rhythmic noises and you hummed as if you understood, pressing a wire down with the flat of your screwdriver.

“- and that’s why I know what we’re doing is important. Even Sentinel says so. Us miners, we’re keeping Cybertron alive,” D-16 said proudly.

“Who’s Sentinel?” You asked absentmindedly.

D-16 screamed, accidentally throwing you off his lap.

“Hey, be careful!” You scolded. “You could have dropped me over the edge.”

You picked up your translator and brushed yourself off.

“Minitronus, you’re talking!” D-16 accused.

“Yeah, well so…are… Oh my God, I did it!” You breathed. Then you punched the air excitedly, “I DID IT!”

“WHAT IS GOING ON? HOW ARE YOU TALKING?!”

“I fixed my translator,” You squealed ecstatically, waving it in front of D-16.

“Your- Your toy?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, practically bouncing on the spot.

“This is impossible. You- You’re our pet!”

“No. Not a pet. Not anymore. I’m (Y/N). Okay, (Y/N),” You repeated your name slowly, trying to get it through to Grey who still looked panicked.

“Primus, this is insane.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You’ve got to explain everything to me, right now.”

“Okay, sit down,” You patted the ledge.

D-16 did so, and you jumped back into his lap.

“What’re you doing? You can’t sit there now. You’re not an animal.”

“Hey,” You pushed against his servo, staying stubbornly in place, “I’m not going back on that ledge, I could fall.” “Fine,” D-16 relented. He went to pet your head again then stopped himself, keeping his servos stiffly by his sides. “As long as you explain yourself, you can sit wherever you want.”

Having told D-16 everything and had him explain a few things in return, things thankfully changed. Initially, things between you and all of the mining bots were awkward, with haunted comments from some of the bots like, ‘It saw me in the wash racks,’ or ‘I can’t believe I tried to rub its belly… No wonder it slapped me. Oh. Oh no.’

Once everyone got used to the idea, your life improved. You were still kept secret since none of the miners knew how the higher-ups would react to an alien species, but with some ingenuity and a few favours exchanged for information about your species and planet, they all came together to transform your locker into a proper living space, complete with all the amenities they could manage to scrape together. They even began forming a plan to try and have you off-planet and en-route somewhere you could survive before your supplies would run out.

After D-16 and Orion were over the weirdness, you still had them take you on your daily excursions, sans the lead since you were no longer their pet. Orion managed to laugh about the whole thing, but D-16 grew to be even more strained around you. However, you didn’t get to ask him about it till you were next alone with him, which was a long time afterwards.

“So… Do you hate me now?” You asked him one day while he walked a few paces ahead of you, keeping an eye out for anyone who he would need to hide you from.

“What?” D-16 sputtered. “I- I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” You smiled easily. “It’s a strange situation.”

D-16 felt his insides squeeze. He had held onto you while you slept. At the time, he thought you were cute. Now though… You were still cute when you slept, but it was a different kind of cute – Softer, somehow.

“I told you everything,” He sighed, defeatedly. “My life, my dreams, my fears.” He shook his head, continuing mournfully, “And you didn’t understand any of it.”

“Not true,” You contradicted, running to stand in front of him.

He watched you warily.

“I might not have known what you were saying, but I did understand you. Your tone, expressions, the sound of your voice. I understood more than you think.”

D-16’s spark pulsed.

“Let’s go home,” He said quickly, turning on his heel and walking away from you.

The two of you had to go where you wouldn’t be alone or things would change again.

D-16 was falling in love with you and he couldn’t let that happen. There were too many unknowns and he had his planet to think about. He was a miner – the life force of his planet. That’s what Sentinel Prime always said, and work came first.

Besides, you weren’t going to be on Cybertron forever. You couldn’t be. Once your supplies ran out, that would be it for you.

D-16 couldn’t get attached. It wasn’t like you were a pet anymore. You didn’t belong to him, even if he wanted you to.

You ran through the destruction of Iacon City, terrified by everything that was happening. Honestly, you had missed most of the events leading up to it, having been stuck in Sentinel’s tower, but you had seen the so-called Prime torture and brand D-16.

Afterwards, you tried to find him or Orion, but you were small and Iacon was big and the city was collapsing around you.

You screamed as you were grabbed seemingly from nowhere and looked up to see D-16, though he looked slightly different thanks to the new infusion of Megatronus’ T-Cog which you hadn’t seen him take from Sentinel’s corpse. Also, there was one other change – his angry red optics, which bore into you.

“D-16,” You shouted, “What’s going on? Where’s Orion?”

“Orion is dead,” He growled. Though he had made a promise that nobody else would be deceived, you needed to hear that lest you side with Orion over him. Besides, it wasn’t a lie. Orion was dead – Dead, and replaced by Optimus Prime. “And my name is Megatron.”

“Orion- Orion’s dead,” You repeated, too shell-shocked to even cry at the moment.

“Yes,” Megatron glossed over your emotions, far too focused on his rage as he transformed around you, keeping you safe inside his alt-mode. “And we’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?”

“To war!”

Yet, even as Megatron burned with hatred and his desire to bring down the corruption that fuelled his planet, he was already reading the intel sent by the disgraced High Guard, informing him of several nearby planets where you would be able to get the organic fuel you required to stay online.

Megatron had lost everything. He was not about to lose his beloved pet too. You were his, and you always would be.

A/N - Hey, I worked really hard on this so please comment, or at the very least reblog. Likes aren't enough anymore guys, they just aren't.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #transformers #maccadam #tf one #transformers one #d 16 #orion pax #elita one #megatron #optimus prime #d-16 #d 16 x reader #megatron x reader #The Creature From Another World #part one #chapter one

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blackpearlblast · 4 months ago

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somuchforahobby · 2 months ago

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interrupted

PART 2 ; PART 3

Summary: young!obi-wan x jedi!reader / Obi-wan tries to flirt with you but gets interrupted by his young padawan / this is fluff and the reader is a tease! Word count: 800 Warnings: none i think ? Read on AO3

You are looking at Chandrila’s night sky when you feel him behind you. “Obi-wan” the name leaves your lips like a request.

“You are up late” he sits next to you.

Your eyes do not leave the stars, “I can never see all this in Coruscant” you exhale, “it’s beautiful”

Obi-wan scoffs, “you can always take your ship and go for a ride if you miss it”

You turned to him, one eyebrow already up, judging him. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded.

“I don’t have a ship, master.” you dragged the word like an insult, “Perhaps you should advise the council on the matter.”

A scoff left his lips, “I am no master and I have no authority to take matters to council”

“You will be soon enough” you muttered bitterly, returning your sight to the sky.

“Maybe you’ll beat me to it”

A soft smile crossed your face, “I highly doubt it”

“Why don’t you have a ship?” he asked sheepishly.

You took a deep breath before looking back at him and leaned back on the bench, “why do you think?”

He scooped closer, his chin almost touching your shoulder, “maybe you are a lousy pilot”

“Am I now?” you teased back, leaning closer.

“yeah, I’m thinking you ran over master Yoda once and you got banned from even sit in a cabin”

The image made you laugh, “maybe” your eyes dropped to his lips, so dangerously close to yours now.

Obi-wan noticed and backed away. “Is that what happened?”

“No” you smiled, “nothing really happened.” You hugged your legs to your torso, hiding your face on your knees. “Since I am always on Coruscant, the council does not think I need a ship to space.”

“It is a proper use of resources, I’d say.” He said, solemn as always.

“Yeah, I guess.” Your head leaned back to the sky, “but I love it so much, I’ve only been there a couple times.”

“Missions?”

“No” you scoffed, “when I was brought to Coruscant, a few of my own–”

“What do you mean ‘a few of your own’?”

You turned to see him with eyebrows furrowed, “I have my tricks” you teased.

His bright blue eyes were widened, “what tricks?”

Your shrugged, gazing the stars, “a girl can do a thing or two to get her where she wants to be, I’m sure you understand”

“I don’t?” There was a glint of amusement in his tone, but also concern.

“Let’s just say that, sometimes some random guy who wants to show off, takes me for a ride in space.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that”

“You’re putting yourself in danger, don’t do that”

“I am a jedi, you know?” you bit back with a hint of annoyment.

“and they are men”

“men who think I’m pretty and who get me back to the city in hopes to see me again”

He was silent for a few minutes, before adding, “you could ask some other, mmm, partners”

“jedis?” you turned to him, hoping he would realize the ridiculousness he had just suggested.

If this was how he faced threats, he would not live a long life; Obi-wan was nearly trembling next to you, his blue eyes assessing you like you were a menace, shy and self conscious. “Yeah, I’m sure there are jedis who think you’re, ummm, pretty and would, of course, like to, uh, invite you or more like, uh take you–”

“for a ride?” you interrupted his stuttering.

He nodded and you took it as a cue to lean closer, “you think a jedi knight would take a girl to see the stars on his ship, late at night, when nobody sees them?”

Obi-wan nodded just the slightest.

“you think there are jedi knights who find me pretty?” you bit your lower lip just to torture him further.

His eyes moved from your eyes to your lips as he nodded.

“Like who?”

He swallowed, leaning forward, “me, for starters”

You felt your face warming up but you still pressed, “and would you help me see stars, Obi-wan Kenobi?” you asked agape.

He bit his lower lip, his bravado coming back into his body when he whispered, “Any–fucking–time sweetheart.”

His hand was on your jaw, pushing you towards him when you heard a voice near.

“Obi-wan hates flying, you should ask another pilot”

“ANAKIN” Obi-wan stood up, walking towards the blond child. “You should be asleep”

The little kid looked up to him, “I am having nightmares again, master Kenobi.” his wobbly voice made your heart break.

Obi-wan exhaled, passing a hand through his face and pushing his hair back before crunching down to the kid’s height. “I’ll be there in a minute and we will meditate together, alright?”

Anakin nodded, “I am also a pilot, you know?” he asked you, “The best in the Galaxy”

“I’ll keep that in mind, young padawan” You smiled, standing up and walking beside them. “I should go to sleep as well, good night boys.”

You winked at Obi-wan before turning on your heel and walking away.

PART 2

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #star wars prequels #obi wan x reader

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pitlanepeach · 2 months ago

Text

From Eden | Chapter Eight pt.1 (8/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Mentions of agoraphobia + social anxiety. Panic attack. Time jumps (made very easy to understand). A few different POV’s. Sexual content.

Notes — I don’t think you guys understand how much this chapter means to me. I hope you love it. Part 2, the final part of the series, will be posted tomorrow 🧡

JANUARY, 2024 (The London flat)

Mark Webber didn’t know what to make of Oscar’s infatuation with this woman — girl, really, in every sense of the word. She was the same age as Oscar, barely out of uni, soft-faced and even softer-tongued. She seemed to live in oversized hoodies and ridiculous socks with cats or frogs or whatever else stitched into the ankles — and he knew that not from meeting her, but because he’d sat down and watched a handful of her YouTube videos for research purposes after Oscar had finally decided to cough up her name.

Not that he was nosy. He was just… protective. Curious. A little baffled.

To Mark, Oscar was still a goddamned kid himself. A fast one, a focused one, but still a kid. A kid who was, by all accounts, completely and hopelessly gone over this girl — Francesca Gold — who made videos about books for a living, apparently hadn’t stepped outside much beyond supermarket runs in years, and was nothing like the glamour models Mark had hung around when he was Oscar’s age. Back when he was young, dumb, and fucking stupid.

And it wasn’t that Mark didn’t like her. He just didn’t get it. Didn’t understand how a boy so reserved, so composed, so relentlessly methodical, could let himself fall so completely for a girl he met online. A girl with issues — a long list of them.

He didn’t mean to sound like a jerk, but it was the truth, plain and simple.

He’d spoken to Nicole about her. Had to sit there and listen to Oscar’s mum preen about the girl who’d apparently stolen her heart as easily as she’d stolen her son’s. But still — Mark couldn’t make up his mind. Couldn’t quite decide whether Francesca becoming such a big part of Oscar’s world was going to ground him or distract him. Whether she was going to steady his focus, or derail it entirely.

But then he met her.

And suddenly, Mark got it. Not all of it — he wasn’t sure anyone could fully understand whatever it was that was happening between them. Cosmic energy or some shit like that. But he understood enough.

He saw the way she looked at Oscar, like he’d hung the stars just for her. Like she still couldn’t quite believe he was real. And more than that, he saw the way Oscar looked at her — so open, so unguarded, like she was the one person in the world he didn’t have to calculate, didn’t have anything to prove.

It was the small things. The way her hand drifted toward his without meaning to. The way Oscar instinctively shifted to stand between her and everyone else in the room, or softened his voice just slightly when speaking to her. There was a rhythm to them, a language of their own that didn’t need translating.

Yeah. Mark understood.

Why this girl. Why now. Why it mattered.

She was the anchor. Oscar was the ship. And the rest of the world… the circuits, the chaos, the pressure… that was their sea.

Mark had seen it happen both ways; the drivers who got sharper, stronger, because they had someone to come home to — and the ones who started lifting their foot off the throttle, even just slightly. The ones who got too careful, and could never take that hesitation back.

He’d worried, for a brief stint, that Oscar might slip into that second category. He was young, after all. Still learning. Still finding his edge. And Mark had heard the old quote, Fernando’s words — "I knew he would hit the brakes because he has a wife and two kids at home."

Francesca looked like the kind of girl you’d slow down for. The kind you’d protect. The kind who might make a boy start second-guessing the risks.

But that wasn’t what happened.

If anything, Oscar just kept getting better. Smarter. More certain. Mark could see it in the latter half of the 2023 season — the way he handled the pressure, how his consistency grew race after race.

He also knew that his protégé had picked up a new post-race routine — a FaceTime call to a pink-cheeked girl curled under a blanket, usually wearing some kind of McLaren merch.

It wasn’t about rushing through the race debrief or forcing himself to ensure the media frenzy anymore. It was about checking in with her, first and foremost. And Mark was sure that he wasn’t the only one to notice the shift in Oscar’s demeanour.

He wasn’t just driving for himself anymore. He was driving for her, too. And somehow, that made him faster. More focused. Unstoppable.

Mark wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything quite like it.

Francesca was quiet, sure — gentle, even — but there was steel beneath the softness. A resilience you only earned from knowing exactly how to be alone, and still choosing to love someone without limit.

She steadied him. Softened his edges in all the right places. Gave him room to breathe when everything else was telling him to hold it in. She didn’t care about lap times or telemetry or trophies — she cared about him.

Mark could see it already, clear as day. When the day came that Oscar would win his first world championship — and he would, because talent like that didn’t come around often — Francesca would be there. Front row, hand over her heart, eyes locked on him, as if the whole world had melted away.

"—Mark, are you okay?"

It was her, her soft, sweet-as-sugar voice, that pulled him out of his thoughts, heavy and complex and swirling in the background. She was sitting across the table from him, in her little flat. It was the kind of place that was small but cosy, just enough room for the three of them, with the soft hum of London outside.

Oscar was frowning at him, a picture of concern mixed with something else — an unspoken warning, the kind only someone like him could give. His eyes said it all; ‘If you've got something to say, say it to me later. And leave her out of it.’

Mark blinked, dragged himself back into the present, and glanced over at her. Her face was soft, attentive, and full of warmth, a slight quirk of concern pulling at the corners of her mouth. He shifted in his seat, realising he'd been lost in his thoughts a little too long.

“Do you need some more water?” She asked.

Mark cleared his throat, grabbed his fork, and forced a smile, nodding toward her. "I’m just fine, darlin’. Great lasagna. You make it?"

Her cheeks flushed pink. “No. Tesco finest,” she told him, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Oscar, on the other hand, looked so genuinely fucking proud, it almost made Mark laugh. He leaned in slightly, as if he were sharing some monumental achievement. “She cooked it perfectly, though. Remembered to set the alarm on the oven, too.”

Mark fought to keep a straight face, watching the way Oscar beamed with that proud, goofy smile. He pressed his lips together tightly, trying to hold it in, but the corners of his mouth twitched despite himself.

—

JANUARY CONT. (FIA Gala)

Francesca sat in her seat, front-row, her heart thudding in her chest as she watched Oscar walk to the stage.

Oscar, in his sharp suit, looked every bit the part of a rising star. But it was more than just his appearance. There was something in the way he held himself, in the way he walked onto that stage with such ease and confidence, that made her heart swell with pride.

She shifted in her seat, her eyes fixed on him, and as he stood there, accepting not his first, but his second FIA Rookie of the Year award, she couldn’t help but smile. This is where you belong, Osc, she thought, watching his genuine, humble expression as he thanked everyone — from his team to his family, to the fans who’d supported him. She’d always known that he was made for this, but seeing him in this moment, surrounded by all the best in the world, it hit her like a wave.

Oscar’s voice echoed through the room as he wrapped up his speech, a brief but heartfelt reference to the people who had supported him. His eyes flickered toward her in the crowd, and for a split second, she felt the world narrow down to just the two of them. His gaze was soft, appreciative — not a loud declaration, but a subtle acknowledgment.

Nine months together, and yet, in that moment, it felt like a lifetime.

The room erupted in applause, but all she could hear was the steady beat of her heart.

Zac’s hand landed on her shoulder with a tight squeeze. She glanced at him, and he gestured to his face, going for subtlety but failing miserably. She choked on a wet laugh, quickly reaching up to wipe her face, brushing the tears away.

“He’s amazing,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Zac nodded, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “One of the best in the world. That’s why he’s ours.”

—

FEBRUARY, 2024 (Bahrain Pre-Season Testing)

Bahrain was as intimidating as it was dazzling. The heat of the desert sun pressed into every inch of her skin, the air thick and heavy, almost oppressive. Even with the McLaren orange noise-cancelling headphones on, engraved with her initials, she could still hear the faint roar of the cars in the distance, their engines a constant hum in the background. The pit lane buzzed with energy, mechanics and engineers moving with precision.

Oscar had already suited up, ready for his first proper day of testing. So, naturally, she’d been left with an entourage of well-meaning people, all given one strict instruction by her boyfriend. ‘Watch her. If she needs to go inside, take her and leave her be.’

Lando, she quickly learned, had taken Oscar’s instructions a little too seriously. He buzzed around her, checking in on her every few minutes, offering to bring her water, asking if she was comfortable, if she was too hot, if she wanted to be moved into the shade. He wasn’t being overbearing, but there was something about the way he did it — with his usual cocky smile and relaxed demeanour — that made her feel like a child being cosseted.

"I know Oscar's usually here to make sure you're alright, but... well, he's kinda busy, so if you need anything, just let me know," Lando said, with that familiar boyish grin, like he was trying to make light of the situation, but his concern was still there, sincere beneath the surface.

"I'll be fine," Francesca assured him, trying to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach as she glanced over at the garage. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to all this. The enormity of it all. It was everything she had spent so long avoiding — the crowds, the noise, the constant pressure. But today was different. She was here for Oscar. She was trying.

Her anxiety curled up like a tight knot in her stomach. She adjusted the McLaren cap on her head and squared her shoulders — she couldn’t feed the fear, couldn’t give it a voice.

Satisfied that she wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown, Lando nodded and gave her a thumbs-up before buzzing off to check on something else. But she wasn’t left alone for long. Zac was next.

“Everything alright?” he asked, settling down beside her with a warm smile. He could tell. She could tell. Even without saying much, they both understood. The subtle shifts in her expression, the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress, the way she kept glancing at the track as if it might swallow her whole.

“I’m fine,” Francesca said again, her voice more confident this time. She was trying to settle herself. She really was.

Zac’s approach was different.

“Come on,” The CEO said with a grin, catching her by the elbow and giving her a gentle but insistent tug. “Sitting on your own will only make it worse. We’re going to the pit wall. I need some company. We’ll have fun.”

Fun? Francesca thought, but didn’t say it aloud. She had no idea how fun the pit wall could be, but seeing the sheer enthusiasm on Zac’s face made it hard to argue. Besides, she could already tell that Zac wasn’t exactly the type to take no for an answer. So, with a deep breath, she let him lead her toward the chaos, her heart thudding a little faster with each step.

When they reached the pit wall, the noise hit her first — a constant hum of car engines, mechanics shouting instructions, and the unrelenting buzz of activity. It was overwhelming, but Zac seemed completely in his element, bouncing from one engineer to the next with a cheery shout and a quick word of encouragement.

Francesca felt a little like a fish out of water, but as Zac guided her to a metal stool next to him, she couldn’t help but smile at how genuinely excited he was. He wasn’t just working — he was living for this. His energy was infectious in the best way, and though she was hesitant, there was something comforting about being wrapped in the chaos of the pit wall. At least here, she was involved. Here, she was part of something bigger.

She perched on the stool nervously, glancing at the screens, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. There was so much to take in — numbers flying, technical data flashing in rapid succession. It was a different world, one she hadn’t expected to ever have to understand, but she was willing to try.

Zac glanced at her and gave her a thumbs-up. “Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “We’re just here to make sure our boys can win big this year. You can handle that, right?”

She smiled faintly, her nerves easing just a little. It felt good to be included, to be here, watching something she knew mattered to Oscar, even if she didn’t fully understand all of it. Every now and then, Tom, Oscar’s engineer, would glance over and offer a quick nod, muttering something into his headset, before turning back to his work. It was all so fast, so technical, but there was something undeniably fascinating about it.

Just as she started to zone out, finally feeling relaxed in her position, her phone buzzed.

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie

They're talking about you on Sky Sports right now.

Don’t freak out.

—

Her eyes widened in surprise. She glanced up at the smaller screens that showed a myriad of coverage. Sure enough, there she was. It was just a quick zoom-in on the pitwall, but she was there, on the screen.

Francesca quickly swiped back to the text, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed out a reply.

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Francesca

oh good god

what are they saying??

—

They’d quietly confirmed their relationship, with their soft launches and public appearances together. The whole thing was unspoken but undeniable. Still… her being here, in Bahrain, would make it clear to everyone that this wasn’t just something casual between her and Oscar. It was real. Serious.

She started fiddling with her promise ring.

Zac noticed her distraction, his gaze catching hers with that sharp, cheery awareness he always had. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping a little in that familiar, laid-back tone. “What’s going on? You okay?”

Francesca blinked, forcing a smile to cover up the flutter in her chest. “Yeah, just a message from Katie, my—uh, my manager. Best friend. She said they’re talking about me on Sky.”

Zac’s laugh rumbled through the air, so deep and warm. “You wanna give ‘em a wave? Give ‘em something to really talk about?” He nudged her gently, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “That’d really cement you as one of us.”

Francesca blinked, unsure if he was serious. But before she could ask, Zac had already turned, craning his neck to spot the Sky camera crew across the pit. He positioned himself behind her with casual ease, like a silent protector, half-guarding her from the attention she hadn’t been prepared for.

Her heart gave a funny little jolt, a mix of surprise and warmth, something about the whole gesture feeling a lot like a welcome.

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie

They’re being nice! Crofty knows who you are from F1 social media

He called you ‘Oscar Piastri’s possible partner’

Aw did Zac just hide you

I started cheering like an actual fangirl when you came on my screen btw

I showed Henry. He thinks his mum is famous now.

Francesca

if they ever try to approach me in the paddock for an interview i will curl up in a ball on the ground right in front of them. like a tortoise.

Katie

LMAO

Btw not to be all managery right now but this is going to do amazing things for your presale numbers

Crofty mentioned that you’re releasing your debut novel soon. Apparently one of his daughters is obsessed with you. THATS SO CUTE??????

Francesca

i’ll dm him later and have a signed copy sorted out for her

also…. can we talk abt how fucking good my bf looks today?????

he’s so yummy

katie answer me.

Katie

Sry too busy staring at Max Verstappen to care.

Francesca

FFS

—

MARCH, 2024 (Youtube Transcript)

Soft orchestral music plays underneath as the video opens to an aerial scene of Monaco with cursive text overlaying the video — Apartment Hunting in Monaco.

[Camera Video | Oscar’s POV]

The scene switches with a soft transition. The sunlight flares softly across the lens as it focuses in on Francesca. She’s standing on a cobbled balcony overlooking the port, framed by bougainvillea, the sea glittering behind her.

She’s wearing a white cotton sundress — ankle-length, delicate, moving gently with the breeze. The sleeves fall just off her shoulders, catching the breeze. Her cheeks are dusted with pink, both from the heat and something else — amusement, shyness, or maybe something in between.

She glances at the camera, lips tugging into a small, crooked smile, eyes dancing with quiet amusement. Then she speaks — soft, a little breathless, laughter curling at the edges of her words. “What? Do I have something on my face? I— Are you filming me?”

Behind the camera comes a low, muffled chuckle. Oscar. “Just a little sunburn.”

Francesca rolls her eyes, head tilting back so she can look up at him — not at the lens, but at the boy behind it. The smile she gives him then is different. Not for show. Not for the camera. The kind that lights up her whole face, eyes soft and full of something quiet and warm.

A breeze lifts her hair, brushing it across her cheek. She tucks it behind her ear absentmindedly, still smiling.

Then she notices the camera is still on.

Her eyes narrow, a mock glare directed right at him, and before he can say anything else, she lunges forward with a sharp laugh, hand outstretched until her palm covers the lens in a blur of movement. “You’re so annoying — give me that!”

The screen goes black mid-laugh.

[Digital Camera Footage | Lando’s POV]

The screen fades from black into the amber glow of evening — the clink of cutlery, low murmurs of French and Italian mingling with the sound of soft jazz in the background.

They’re seated at a small, tucked-away table in a dimly lit restaurant, all warm wood and wine bottles stacked along the back wall. The candle between them flickers gently, casting golden light across Francesca’s face as she leans in over her plate, fork lazily twirling pasta she’s been too busy talking to finish.

Oscar’s elbow is on the table, chin in his hand, just watching her. Half a glass of red in front of him, untouched. There’s something so still in the way he looks at her — like he doesn’t want to miss a second. The world outside might be glittering yachts and flashing cameras, but here, it’s just them.

Francesca laughs at something he says — soft and breathy, a little head tilt, like she can’t help it — and then glances away, as if embarrassed by how openly she’s smiling. She reaches for her wine glass and sips, eyes flicking back to him across the rim.

She’s dressed simply — hair tucked back in a loose twist, silver hoops in her ears, that same sunburn still lingering across her cheeks and nose. Oscar’s wearing a white button-up, sleeves pushed to his elbows, a bit rumpled from the day.

There’s a kind of quiet intimacy that hums between them. No show. No performance. Just two people completely wrapped up in each other, in the moment.

The camera lingers for just a beat longer before fading to black again — a low, amused laugh from Lando behind the camera the last sound before the scene shifts.

[Camera Video | Francesca’s POV]

The camera shakes slightly as Francesca adjusts the focus, the bright hum of late-morning Monaco buzzing faintly through the open balcony doors. She pans slowly around the room — white walls, pale stone floors, and a little too much echo for her liking — before swinging toward the galley kitchen where Oscar is pretending to know what he’s doing as he ‘tests the water pressure’.

“Do you like it?” she asks from behind the camera, voice soft, amused.

He turns to glance at her, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s fine. Kind of… plain?”

Francesca giggles under her breath and shifts the camera to catch the office space. More like a glorified closet with a window. She zooms in on Oscar as he steps into the tiny room, ducking slightly even though he doesn’t need to.

The leasing agent begins rattling off details, gesturing enthusiastically, “...great for a desk setup, maybe a bookshelf or two—”

Oscar turns to the camera — to her — and raises his eyebrows like he’s already unimpressed. “This is meant to be the office?”

“You could fit a desk,” the agent offers, a little defensively now.

Oscar laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “She needs more space than this. There’s, like, twenty boxes of books at home. Minimum.”

Francesca snorts behind the camera. “Oscar.”

“What?” He asks. “You do. You run a library out of your office, ‘Cesca.”

“You’re making it sound much more dramatic than it is.” She argues, softly.

The leasing agent, smiling tightly now, gestures toward her tablet. “We could explore a two-bedroom? Something with more natural light?”

Oscar doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, let’s do that. She writes, too. She’ll need the space.”

The camera tilts slightly as Francesca lowers it a little, her other hand coming up to brush a curl out of her face. “You know I could probably work in a cupboard if I had to, right?”

Oscar throws a look over his shoulder. “Sure. But why should you?”

The moment hangs there for a beat — quiet and sure and full of that quiet certainty she still hasn’t gotten used to. She zooms in just a touch more, catches the way he bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard.

“You’re sweet,” she murmurs, more to herself than the video.

[Phone Video – Shot from Passenger Seat | Francesca’s POV]

The camera opens on the curve of Oscar’s jaw, sunlight flickering across his sunglasses as he drives. The gentle hum of the engine blends with the faint background of French radio and open windows. Francesca turns the camera slowly, catching the coastline flashing past — the glittering sea to their right, a blur of palms and yachts bobbing like toys in the harbour.

Then it pans back to Oscar, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh.

Francesca’s voice, soft with a teasing lilt, “Tell the people where we’re going, Oscar.”

He doesn’t glance at the camera, but the corner of his mouth lifts. “To meet Monaco royalty.”

She snorts. “Stop it.”

“They bite if you’re not respectful,” he says, deadpan.

The video wobbles slightly as she laughs. “For context, we’re going to meet Max Verstappen’s cats. And also to talk about cat-sitting logistics in Monaco. Because, apparently, Max has very strong opinions on who looks after his cats during race weekends.”

Oscar shrugs, casual as ever. “It’ll be good to have a list of reliable sitters. These are the most high-maintenance cats in Europe. If they approve of someone, Henry’s gonna be in good hands.”

Francesca turns the phone camera to herself, her expression playful. “I might become the communal cat-sitter. If I’m at home anyway, might as well take care of them all. Could be fun. I’d have company — and not just the passive-aggressive kind Henry provides.”

Oscar lets out a quiet laugh, eyes still on the road. “You say that now. Wait ‘til you’re negotiating breakfast with Verstappen’s cats at 6 a.m.”

She grins into the camera. “Honestly? Sounds like a dream.”

[Phone Video | Oscar’s POV]

The phone camera opens shaky and low, Oscar’s voice muttering something inaudible as the view swings toward the living room floor.

Francesca is lying flat on her back on Max Verstappen’s living room rug, her baby-pink blouse rumpled, her laugh bright and breathless. Jimmy is curled against her ribs, his eyes half-lidded in bliss, while Sassy perches on her stomach, gently kneading her with her paws.

“Oh no. I think I love you,” she whispers, scratching behind his ear.

Oscar chuckles behind the camera. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Francesca doesn’t look up, just grins. “Henry would love them. They’re so soft, Osc. Feel this one’s tail—oh my god—”

Oscar zooms in suddenly, the lens focusing past her to where Max stands near the kitchen island, arms crossed, a drink in hand, his head tilted slightly.

Max is staring at Francesca like she’s just hacked some encrypted system he’s never managed to break — his expression caught somewhere between confusion and awe. A man quietly trying to calculate how the hell she’s managed to charm his high-brow cats in less than five minutes.

The camera lingers a beat too long on Max’s face before Oscar snorts and turns it back to Francesca, buried under an avalanche of cat affection.

[Camera Video | Francesca’s POV]

Francesca stood behind the camera, positioning it at the perfect angle to capture the wide expanse of the apartment. She panned the lens over the open space, the light streaming in from the tall windows, casting a warm glow across the sleek, modern furniture. Everything looked pristine.

Oscar was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets as he looked out at the view — the sprawling city of Monaco, the rooftops, and beyond.

Francesca adjusted the camera, her voice barely a whisper, but laced with that teasing tone that always seemed to slip out when she was around him. “So… what do you think?” she asked, her eyes shifting between the view and the camera.

Oscar, still gazing out the window, raised an eyebrow at her question. Without turning to look at her, he said, “It’s nice. Bigger than the last one.”

“Bigger is good, right?” Francesca asked, her gaze flicking to him through the lens. She took a step closer, bringing the camera angle in, trying to catch the look on his face as he processed the apartment.

Oscar glanced at her, then back at the leasing agent, who was mid-sentence about granite countertops or built-in smart lighting or something equally forgettable.

“So, no balcony at all?” Oscar cut in, polite but firm.

The agent blinked. “Correct. But the views are—”

“She needs to be able to see the water,” Oscar said simply, like it was obvious. “If she doesn’t feel like leaving the apartment one day, she should still get that.”

Francesca’s eyes flicked to him, caught somewhere between surprise and a quiet kind of awe. Her thumb hovered over the camera’s screen as she lowered it slightly, distracted by the weight of his words. The camera now aimed at her legs, her thumb still frozen mid-air.

The agent, sensing the shift in energy, shifted awkwardly, glancing between them. “Of course. There are a few others on the list. Some with terraces—”

Oscar didn’t miss a beat. He turned, already heading toward the door. “Let’s go see those.”

Francesca stood there for a moment longer, the camera still in her hands, capturing her legs, the apartment, then she laughed. Quiet, almost muted, but it was there. And it was fond.

[Camera Video | Francesca’s POV]

The lighting was soft and warm as sunlight streamed through the coved windows of the third apartment. The space felt intimate, calm. The floors gleamed, polished wood catching the light in a way that made the entire room glow.

Francesca held the camera in front of her, carefully framing each shot as she moved through the space, making sure to capture everything in just the right light. Every angle was deliberate, every shot chosen with care. She wanted the footage to feel personal, but she also made sure not to reveal too much. This apartment felt like theirs, and she wasn’t ready to let anyone else in on that just yet.

She zoomed in on a patch of sunlight spilling onto the floor, its warmth casting a gentle glow.

Her voice, soft and reflective, came through the lens. “Perfect for my Henry.”

She kept the camera focused on the sunlight for a moment, letting the warmth of the scene settle in. A faint smile tugged at her lips, but she lowered the camera quickly, as if to shield the moment from prying eyes.

She glanced over her shoulder. Oscar was stood on the balcony with the leasing agent. He had his hands on his hips, but there was a relaxed ease to his posture. He looked at peace.

Francesca’s gaze softened as she took a deep breath, the quiet contentment filling her. This was it. They had found it.

This place, this spot, felt right. The perfect balance of everything they needed — and nothing anyone would ever guess. She’d made sure of that. The view, the sunlight, the sense of space, and quiet privacy.

Everything was coming together.

She turned off the camera.

[Phone Video | Oscar’s POV]

Fading in from black, the segment opens with Francesca sitting in a racing sim, her hands gripping the wheel with white knuckles.

Behind the camera, Oscar’s breath hitched every time Francesca’s focus wavered and the car careened off the track. Lando’s apartment was filled with the muffled sound of tires screeching as she slammed into yet another corner.

"Wait, hold on!" Francesca’s voice cracked with frustration as she frantically tried to correct the car’s trajectory. “This thing is rigged!” she yelled at Lando, who was pacing beside her, visibly stressed.

Lando’s voice was strained as he pointed at the screen. “You need to brake, Francesca, brake before the turn!”

Francesca’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I am braking!” She mashed the brake pedal harder, only for the car to spin out of control again, slamming into the guardrail.

Oscar could barely breathe for the sheer hilarity of it. The camera was shaking with the force of his laughter “You’re supposed to brake before the turn, babe,” he said between gasps, his voice nearly breaking as he fought to maintain some semblance of composure.

Francesca shot him a glare over her shoulder. “It’s not as easy as it looks! This thing is impossible! How do you guys do this?!” she huffed, slamming her hands on the wheel. “I’m literally just turning left and right and nothing works!”

Lando, face flushed with the pressure of trying to help, dropped his face into his hand. “I’m trying, okay? Just… brake before the turn, Francesca! It’s like this with every sim! You need to focus!”

She threw her hands up, exasperated. “I am focusing! How do you focus when every turn makes you feel like you’re about to flip off a cliff?!”

Oscar was no longer able to contain himself. Behind the camera, he was laughing so hard, his chest was aching. He stepped back for a moment, nearly losing it as he caught a glimpse of Lando’s panicked expression, trying to explain the intricacies of sim racing as if this were a life-or-death situation.

“You’ve got to get the brake pressure right!” Lando urged, his voice strained. “Think of it like a real car, but faster!”

“I am thinking of it like a real car!” Francesca shot back. “And in real life, I don’t even have a bloody driving licence!”

Oscar, doubled over in laughter, could barely hold the camera steady. “I think you’re doing great, babe. You’re… you’re definitely, uh, getting the hang of it,” he gasped, trying to wipe tears from his eyes.

Francesca turned back to the screen, trying to give it another go. As soon as she did, the car hit yet another corner wrong, sending her flying off the track again.

She let out a loud scream of frustration. “I can’t do it!” she yelled, slamming her fists against the wheel.

Lando squeaked, his eyes wide in panic. “Francesca! That’s bloody expensive, stop—Stop hitting it!”

Oscar nearly choked on his own breath, clutching the camera in an effort to keep it steady while trying to hold back his laughter.

Francesca finally turned the chair away from the sim, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I think I’ll leave the racing to you two, yeah?” She said. Her words only made Oscar laugh harder, his laughter shaking the entire frame of the camera.

Lando let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Oscar, still struggling to regain composure, panned the camera to his own face, his cheeks flushed from laughter. For a moment, he couldn't even speak — he just gasped for air between fits of giggles. Finally, he managed, “Not sure how I feel about you wanting to get your license after seeing that,” his voice cracking from laughing so hard.

Francesca leaned back in the chair with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her head back dramatically. “Yeah, no kidding,” she said with a mock-grumble, flipping her hand dismissively.

Lando, still staring at the rig in disbelief, shook his head, muttering under his breath, “I need a drink. Or ten.”

[Phone Video – Shot from Passenger Seat | Francesca’s POV]

The camera was a lot steadier as it shifted into a new scene, Francesca holding it close to her face as the soft hum of the car filled the quiet space. Her eyes were a little tired, but there was a calm resolve in her gaze.

“Hey guys,” she began, her voice softer than usual but still grounded. “So, today’s been a bit of a rollercoaster. I had a panic attack in a store earlier, which… you know, isn’t fun. Not that I’m expecting any of you to feel sorry for me or anything,” she said with a small, self-aware smile, “but sometimes it’s just a little overwhelming, and I get caught up in it.”

Oscar, who had been driving, glanced over at her for a split second, his expression gentle. She returned a quiet smile, her voice growing a little warmer as she continued.

“The thing is, though, I’m not going to let it ruin my whole day,” she said, lifting her chin a little, almost defiantly. “I’ve been in this place before, where it feels like everything’s crashing in on me, but… I’m not going to let it take over. Not today.” She took a breath, steadying herself. “And honestly, I don’t think I would’ve been able to say that a while ago. But today? I’m choosing to move on.”

Francesca turned the camera slightly, drawing the lens to the bag in her lap. She opened it carefully, revealing the soft leather and the small tag still dangling from the inside.

“Oscar actually surprised me with this,” she said with a soft laugh, her fingers brushing over the bag’s edge. “I didn’t even know he was planning on it, but I think he could tell I was having a rough day. So…” She shrugged lightly, a small, fond smile creeping up her lips. “This is from him. It’s a little over the top, but I guess it’s nice to have something beautiful to look at after a crappy day.”

She gave the camera a playful, almost teasing look. “I swear, though, I’m not, like… flexing. It’s more like… a reminder that the world doesn’t stop spinning because I’m having a rough time.” Her voice grew more firm, more grounded. “So yeah, that’s my little pep talk for today.”

The camera zoomed in on the bag again, its pristine white leather catching the light.

Oscar glanced at her again, the corner of his mouth curling into a quiet, loving smile, and she caught the look, giving him a soft nod in return.

“Anyway,” Francesca said, taking another breath, “I’m going to enjoy the rest of today. And I hope you guys do, too. Thanks for being here with me, as always. I know that this video probably feels a bit… thrown together. But it’s been fun to film a vlog. My first one, really. I hope you like it.”

With that, she lowered the camera slightly, the last shot of the video capturing her calm but resolute expression before it faded to black.

—

Top Comments:

@litwitch420

this entire video felt like a fever dream

@casgyt

THIS IS GOING TO GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS THE CRAZIEST HARD LAUNCH EVER. WHAT THE FUCK

@crymewithcoffee

we knew they were together. like after seeing her in bahrain we KNEW. And yet here I am…. still GAGGED

@thisissochaotic

“he got me this bag” AND IT’S A FCKING MINI KELLY?????????????

@traumabrat98

Make more vlogs!!!!!! This was the most entertaining piece of content that I’ve consumed all week

@henryhasfans

You zooming in on the little sunspot for Henry….. I’m so happy for you both. Good luck in your new home!!!

@softestheartsclub

Oh my god Oscar is GONE for her. The way he was laughing when she was trying to use Lando’s sim……. I’m dying

@pidgeinajar

HER LAYING ON MAX VERSTAPPEN’S FLOOR COVERED IN HIS CATS 😭

—

APRIL, 2024 (LONDON — JAPAN)

iMessage — Francesca & Oscar

Oscar

Hey baby

Are you busy?

Francesca

no i just finished filming

you ok??????

Oscar

Yeah

Kind of

What are you wearing

Francesca

………… oh my god oh my god

wait hold on give me a minute ok

Oscar

Babe.

Francesca

ok now ask me again

Oscar

Seriously?

Francesca

ask me again or perish

Oscar

What are you wearing, baby?

Francesca

nothing except for 1 thing

a pair of ur boxers

hehe

Oscar

Jesus

Show me how pretty you look, baby

Francesca

*insert mirror pic*

Oscar

Look at you.

So perfect

My girl

I miss you so much

God, I can’t stop looking at you

Francesca

can we facetime please? i feel like a cat in heat pls pls pls pls

Incoming FaceTime call from Oscar

The screen flickered to life, and there he was — soft hotel lighting, hair a little tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. His voice came low, smooth, and quiet. “Let me see you again, baby.”

Francesca pulled the phone back, tilting the camera slightly as she sat back on her bed. Her cheeks were already pink. The oversized pair of Oscar’s boxers she wore hung low on her hips, her bare legs folded under her, skin warm from anticipation.

Oscar's eyes darkened as he took her in. “God, you’re beautiful.” He leaned in toward the camera like he could reach her. “You put them on them just for me, didn’t you? Knew it’d make me crazy.”

She bit her lip, a little shy now, her voice barely above a whisper. “I miss you.”

He smiled — slow and knowing. “Yeah? You gonna show me how much?”

She hesitated, not from embarrassment but because his voice alone had her breath catching. The way he was looking at her — like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing — made her stomach twist and flutter.

“Oscar…”

His tone changed, low and teasing. “Don’t play shy now, baby.” He leaned back slightly in his chair, dragging his hand slowly along his face. “You know what you do to me when you act all sweet like this?”

She tucked her chin to her shoulder, glancing at the screen from beneath her lashes. “What do I do to you?”

A beat.

“You make it very hard to be in a different country right now.”

Francesca gave a soft, breathy laugh, one hand coming up to play with the hem of the boxers.

Oscar’s voice dipped into something darker, quieter. “Keep going.”

She did, slowly, never taking her eyes off him. Every inch of movement was deliberate — slow, teasing, meant only for him.

“I love when you get like this,” he murmured. “All shy, all mine. You have no idea what you do to me, baby.”

The call stretched into silence except for the sound of their breathing, low and syncing across the distance.

She leaned closer, voice shaking just a little. “I wish you were here.”

“I will be. Two days.” His gaze burned through the screen. “And when I get there, I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to.”

Her breath caught, cheeks flushing deeper.

“Now,” he said, sitting forward again, his voice a murmur, “keep talking, baby. Tell me everything I’m missing.”

—

MAY, 2024 (Monaco)

Between Miami and Imola.

The apartment was still half chaos, cardboard boxes stacked in corners and a lamp sitting unplugged on the kitchen counter, but the bones of home were already there — her books on the shelves, Oscar’s caps tucked neatly in a basket by the door, Francesca’s coffee mugs lined up on the drying rack next to the sink.

The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, but the warmth of the day still clung to the walls. The living room was lit only by the soft glow of a floor lamp and the ambient noise of some gentle lo-fi playing from Francesca’s phone.

They were collapsed together on the sofa, legs tangled under a too-warm throw blanket neither of them had bothered to kick off. Francesca's head was on Oscar’s chest, his fingers moving absentmindedly through her hair while her hand rested on his stomach.

Their shared silence was broken by the familiar little mrrp of Henry announcing himself.

Francesca blinked open one eye. “Hi, lovebug.”

Henry leapt up onto the sofa and stepped directly onto Oscar’s chest without hesitation, then flopped himself neatly across both of them, his tail curling around Francesca’s wrist. He gave one regal yawn and promptly closed his eyes, fully satisfied.

Oscar groaned, but his arm never left Francesca. “He’s so heavy. Why is he so heavy?”

“He started stress eating about the move,” she mumbled into his shirt. “He’ll go back to normal as soon as he gets settled.”

“I’m being crushed.” Oscar complained.

“You’re being loved.” She muttered.

Oscar tilted his head down and pressed a lazy kiss to her forehead. “Same thing, I guess.”

Francesca smiled, eyes fluttering closed again. Henry let out a sleepy purr like an engine beneath them, and for a long while, the three of them just stayed like that — tangled, content, and utterly at peace in their new home.

—

JULY 2024 (HUNGARY)

Francesca stood tucked near the back of the McLaren garage, noise-cancelling headphones snug over her ears, her VIP pass swinging gently against her chest. Mark stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes flicking between the pit wall monitors and the track feed. She liked being near him — his quiet calm had a way of settling her nerves when the rest of the garage buzzed with sharp, electric energy.

When a Sky camera panned in on the pair of them, Francesca caught it in her periphery and gave a small, deliberate wave. Not dramatic. Just enough. She was starting to get used to being noticed here. Kind of.

Mark leaned over slightly, not taking his eyes off the telemetry screen. “You’re famous now.”

She snorted softly. “It’s not the first time I’ve been on camera.”

“Still. They filmed you for two seconds longer than they filmed me.”

That got a laugh out of her — short and breathless, because God, she was nervous. Not just about the race, but about the fact that her book — the thing she’d poured herself into — had officially hit the shelves earlier that morning. And she hadn’t had the courage to open social media once.

“It’s out today,” she said finally, her voice quiet under the buzz of engines. “My book.”

Mark turned his head toward her for the first time, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? That’s huge.”

She hugged herself loosely. “It might flop.”

“It won’t.” He said.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know good things don’t fail,” Mark said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “Oscar made Lando pre-order a copy yesterday, right after the strategy meeting. Poor kid’s dyslexic.”

Francesca laughed — a little louder this time, a little more real. “I’ll have to tell him that he doesn’t actually have to read it.”

She turned her attention back to the front of the garage, nibbling at her bottom lip as the cars started peeling out onto the track. Her heart was already racing, nerves coiling tight in her stomach.

The race unfolded in layers — tense, dramatic, and inch-perfect from lights out to every nail-biting overtake. She barely breathed between pit stops and radio chatter, caught up in the frantic rhythm of it all.

And then, as the final laps ticked down, one thing became clear.

Oscar was going to win.

Francesca forgot how to breathe for a full minute. The garage erupted when he crossed the chequered flag — mechanics high-fiving, hugging, shouting over one another. The champagne would come later. Right now, it was all adrenaline and awe.

Mark hugged her before following the mechanics out into Parc ferme.

She didn’t move. She let him have that moment — the roar of the team, the photo ops, the press obligations. She stayed tucked away in the same corner of the garage where she always waited for him. Her safe little spot.

And then he found her.

Still in his race suit, hair damp under the cap, flushed with victory. His eyes scanned the space until they landed on her, and he didn’t hesitate.

He came straight for her, shouldering past cameras and crew and noise like they didn’t exist.

And then he kissed her.

Not soft or shy — but full-body, hands-in-her-hair, I-just-won-and-you’re-the-first-person-I-wanted-to-see kind of kiss. A kiss that knew there were cameras, and didn’t give a single damn.

Francesca melted into it, arms wrapping around him instinctively, one hand curling in the fabric of his fireproofs. The garage faded. The noise dimmed.

When they finally pulled apart, still grinning, still breathless, Oscar pressed his forehead to hers.

“You won,” she whispered, dazed.

“I won.”

—

Four hours later, in the haze of post-race adrenaline and exhaustion, one of the McLaren social media admins approached her during the debrief with a wide grin.

“Congratulations,” she said, practically buzzing.

Francesca blinked. “For what?”

The admin tilted her head, equally puzzled. “Your book. You’ve broken all kinds of sales records. It’s everywhere.”

She stared at them for a second, like the words hadn’t quite landed. “Wait — what?”

The admin laughed. “You haven’t even checked your phone, have you?”

She shook her head slowly, stunned. “No. I’ve been — well, here.”

“Well,” the admin said, already pulling out their own phone to show her the numbers. “You might want to check it now.”

—

AUGUST, 2024 (Monaco)

The sun dipped low over the water, casting the apartment in golden light. The breeze from the balcony was warm and sweet, carrying the scent of salt and blooming jasmine.

Francesca stood barefoot in the kitchen, hair clipped back messily, stirring something on the stove that had started as a ragu but had become more like a risotto. Somehow.

Behind her, the front door clicked open.

“Katie!” she called without turning around, already grinning.

“You live here?” Katie’s voice echoed through the flat as she stepped inside, suitcase trailing behind her, sunglasses still perched on her head. “Like — actually live here? This is absurd. You’re absurd.”

Francesca laughed, wiped her hands on a tea towel, and turned to greet her best friend. They hugged tightly, the kind of squeeze that said I missed you more clearly than any words could.

“It’s not that absurd,” Francesca argued playfully, though the apartment — with its panoramic sea view and soft sunlight bleeding across every surface — sort of spoke for itself.

Katie dropped her bag and immediately flopped down onto the sofa. “You look disgustingly domestic. Is that an apron? Oh my God.”

Francesca rolled her eyes, flicking a dishtowel in her direction. “It’s a cooking towel. And yes, Oscar’s turned me into someone who owns olive oil in more than one variety.”

“Tragic,” Katie said, stretching like Henry liked to do in that exact spot. “Where is Lover Boy?”

“Factory debrief in Woking. Back tomorrow.” Francesca padded over with two glasses of something cold and citrusy. “You have me all to yourself.”

Katie took the glass and lifted it in a toast. “To you, my beautiful best friend, who lives in the most beautiful apartment in the world and still cries whenever someone says something vaguely mean about her bestselling book on Goodreads.”

Francesca pouted. “Some of those reviews are brutal.”

“I’ll kill them.” Katie said it so casually it could’ve been mistaken for a joke — but it wasn’t.

Francesca grinned at her. “It’s so good to have you here.”

Katie tilted her head, gaze soft. “You seem so happy, Fran.”

“I am,” she said, and meant it. “Come on. I’ll show you the sunspot Henry likes to nap in. It’s very exclusive.”

“Oh, please,” Katie muttered, trailing after her. “He’s becoming even more spoiled than he already was.”

“He’s Monaco royalty now. Jimmy and Sassy love him.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Right, because the fact that your cat is friends with Max Verstappen’s cats is a totally normal thing to tell a person.”

Francesca just grinned over her shoulder, unbothered. “You get used to it.”

Katie scoffed, but there was affection in her voice. “I don’t think I ever will.”

They disappeared down the hallway, the soft thump of their footsteps blending with low, familiar laughter — comfortable, easy.

—

AUGUST, 2024 (Monaco)

The soft click of the apartment door shutting echoed faintly behind her. Francesca dropped the shopping bags by the entryway and stretched, still slightly flushed from the sun. She barely had a moment to relax, the safe warmth of home settling into her bones, before she heard him.

"Don’t move," Oscar’s voice called, smooth and low from down the hall. It had that tone — just on the edge of command, threaded with teasing.

She stilled, instantly curious. “Why?” she asked, one brow raised.

He appeared a second later, leaned casually against the doorway to their bedroom, arms folded across his chest. He was in race gear — mostly. Suit half-unzipped and hanging at his waist, undershirt clinging to him, and the black balaclava still pulled over his head, only his eyes and mouth visible.

Francesca blinked. “Um,” she said, unable to form any more words. Her heart skipped. That balaclava shouldn’t have looked good — shouldn’t have made her feel anything. But there was something about it. About him. Her voice came out softer than she meant it to when she eventually managed to say, “You look ridiculous.”

“You sound like you’re lying,” he said, pushing off the doorway and walking toward her slowly.

She backed up instinctively, until her spine met the wall. He stopped in front of her, hands braced on either side of her head, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the scent of clean sweat and sun.

“Be honest,” he murmured, eyes catching hers through the fabric. “You like it.”

Francesca gave a helpless little laugh, breath hitching. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm, maybe,” he murmured, nose brushing hers through the fabric. “But you’re still blushing.” His voice was still so calm, so in control — and it made her knees feel unsteady. He tilted his head. “You trust me?”

“Always,” she whispered.

Oscar’s lips curved behind the fabric. “Good. Then let me take care of you, baby.”

His fingers brushed over her waist, deliberate and slow. The balaclava stayed on, and his eyes were almost black as he stared at her.

Francesca’s breath hitched when he leaned in again, kissing just beneath her jaw, letting his lips linger against her skin before dragging down to her neck. She tilted her head for him without thinking, her hands finding purchase on the front of his undershirt, clinging just a little.

“Thought you would be tired,” she murmured, dazed.

He hummed, lifting his head to meet her eyes with a quiet smile. “I’ve always got the energy to take care of you,” he said, voice dark and velvet-soft. ��Always.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the words or the look he gave her, heavy-lidded and utterly focused, but something fluttered low in her stomach, heat curling through her limbs.

His hands slid up beneath her shirt slowly, fingertips ghosting along her ribcage, and when she gasped softly, he just smiled again — pleased. Confident.

“I love how responsive you are,” he said, almost to himself, leaning in to kiss her again. This time, it wasn’t soft. It was demanding — possessive, the kind of kiss that left her dizzy and aching.

When they finally broke apart, she was breathless, and his forehead rested gently against hers.

“Bedroom,” he murmured. “Now.”

She hesitated, just barely. Then nodded.

Oscar didn’t give her a chance to lead. He took her hand, guiding her backwards through the apartment until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She fell onto it with a soft laugh, only for it to catch in her throat when he followed her down slowly, eyes never leaving hers.

He kissed her like he had something to prove. Hands trailing, anchoring her, touching her; he already knew every inch of her body, he just wanted to relearn it all again.

“You don’t have to hide anything with me,” he murmured, thumb stroking along her hipbone as he kissed lower, slower, more deliberately. “Not a single thing.”

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling softly, and he let out a quiet groan.

He was savouring. Worshipping.

And by the time her back arched off the mattress, and his name broke from her lips like a prayer, Oscar was right there, kissing the words from her mouth, catching every tremble and gasp with steady, careful hands.

After, he didn’t pull away. He stayed close, brushing damp hair off her forehead, kissing her temple, her jaw, her shoulder like she was something fragile and precious and entirely his.

“You okay?” he asked softly, fingertips stroking her side.

Francesca nodded, smile lazy and blissful. “Yeah. You?”

Oscar leaned down again, kissed her just once — slow and deep. “So in love with you, it’s not even funny.”

—

It was a quiet afternoon in Monaco, the kind of day that hummed softness. The café was tucked into a shaded corner near the marina, half-hidden behind flowering vines and white umbrellas. Francesca stirred her iced coffee absently, the rim of her sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose, Oscar sitting opposite her, legs stretched out, one ankle crossed with hers under the table.

They weren’t in a rush. They rarely were on days like this.

Oscar was mid-sentence about something, probably tyres or brake balance, but then he paused, eyes flicking past her shoulder.

Francesca turned slightly to look.

A couple sat a few tables over, tucked into the corner with a stroller parked beside them. The mother was speaking gently while sipping her drink, and the father had their baby cradled against his chest, cooing something only the baby could hear. It was quiet and tender. Beautiful, really.

Oscar watched them for a long moment, expression unreadable, then leaned forward slightly. His voice was low, almost shy.

“Is that… something you’d want? One day?”

Francesca blinked, caught off-guard. She looked over at the family again, at the warmth of it, the calm in their shared space, and then back at him.

“Yes,” she said, voice quiet but certain. “One day, yeah.” Oscar’s gaze didn’t leave hers, so she kept going, the words spilling out more honestly than she expected. “I want to be the kind of mum I didn’t get,” she admitted, her thumb brushing against the condensation on her glass. “The kind that’s endlessly patient. Who listens. Who hugs for too long and cries at every little achievement and keeps every single awful piece of art they ever make.” She paused, swallowing. “I want to be warm. Safe. I want them to grow up knowing they’re so loved it hurts.”

Oscar reached across the table then, gently taking her hand in his, thumb rubbing slow circles over her knuckles. There was nothing teasing in his smile. It was reverent.

“You will be,” he said softly.

Francesca blinked again, the back of her throat tightening.

Oscar leaned in, voice just for her now. “And when you’re ready, next year, in ten years, whenever it feels right, I’ll give you as many babies as you want.”

She laughed, a little teary now. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

“It is,” he grinned. “I’m going to be the king of car seat installation.”

Francesca rolled her eyes fondly, squeezing his hand. “I can see you spending months practising, just to prove a point.”

Oscar smiled like the idea delighted him. “Can’t wait.”

She smiled at him and the world softened. It folded in around them; just the two of them, sunlight filtering through the café canopy, coffee going warm on the table, and a quiet promise that someday, they'd build something even bigger together.

Something that would always feel like home.

CHAPTER EIGHT PT. 2 (THE EPILOGUE)

564 notes · View notes

demonpiratehuntress · 3 months ago

Text

brother's keeper

Portgas D Ace x F!Reader

summary - you meet Luffy's brother in Alabasta, the very pirate that you may just have the biggest crush on. he spends the entire journey hogging your attention, both purposely and unintentionally. part 2 here.

warnings - none

a/n - i cannot plan a fic to save my life...whatever comes from my head is usually different to what i plan...for instance, i did not plan this to be a two part fic, but it just might be...

While you were not surprised that Luffy had failed to mention his brother, you were definitely surprised by who said brother was. A man that you had, and you'd take this secret to your grave, fantasised about on more than one occasion.

Because how was your carefree, slightly insane captain who got by on sheer luck related to such a powerful, intimidating pirate??

You could not meet his gaze.

Ace had made friends with most of the group already - he was surprisingly friendly, which you hadn't expected from someone even Marines feared. But you were too flustered to make eye contact, let alone utter a single word to him.

And this didn't go unnoticed by the Whitebeard Pirates commander.

Maybe it was the fact that he was shirtless. Maybe it was the fact that he had a huge bounty on his head. Or maybe it was just the fact that you wondered if his kiss would be as fiery as his devil fruit power.

"What's wrong, (Name)?" Nami asked you, pulling you away from the boys. She had this knowing smirk on her face that made your face flush.

"Nothing!" Your voice came out an octave higher than you planned. "Why would you think there's something wrong?"

"Okay, then go talk to Ace-"

"No!" You interrupted her, eyes wide with panic. "I can't do that!"

Nami let out an unnecessarily loud laugh, "I can't believe it. Is this really the girl who keeps yelling at the boys on our crew and calling them stupid?"

"Actually, that's you. But this is different!" You protested, covering your face.

Unbeknownst to you, the commander had actually heard the entire conversation. At first, he was a little offended, but as he heard more his lips curled into an amused smirk.

That is, until he saw the death glare your crew's cook was giving him.

A few minutes later, you were washing some of the dishes from lunch - Sanji was occupied with chasing Luffy around the ship because of how he'd been washing them. You were lost in your thoughts, thinking about what to say to Ace if you could gather up enough courage to talk to him, and didn't hear someone come in behind you.

"Need any help?" Ace's voice filled your ears, amusement barely hidden in his tone.

You tensed, your eyes wide. For a moment, you panicked and didn't know how to respond, making him chuckle behind you. He came all the way and leaned on the counter beside you, his eyes scanning your distressed face.

"Have I offended you?" He asked softly, knowing the answer but curious to see what you'd tell him.

"No, not at all," you managed to answer, stopping yourself from speaking any further in fear of making yourself look like an idiot. The last thing you wanted was for him to hear you stutter and stammer like a child learning their first words.

"So is there another reason that you've been avoiding me?" He teased. "I've spoken to everyone on your crew, except for you."

"You're speaking to me now," you offered meekly.

He laughed, the sound washing over you and loosening all your tense muscles, "I suppose I am."

You hesitated for a moment, then lowered your voice, "I didn't expect Luffy to have such a-"

"Charming brother?" He finished, his eyes glinting with the same mischievous light that Luffy's often did. "I got that a lot today."

You laughed at his words, and his lips quirked up into a smile at the sound. He took this as permission to move closer, satiating his puzzling need to be closer to you. He was, for some reason, drawn to the girl on his brother's crew that seemed to be doing everything to avoid him.

"I suppose you could say that," you smiled.

Ace opened his mouth to say something else, when Luffy and Sanji burst in through the door. The blonde had his foot raised to kick the captain, when he saw you and Ace standing there, closer than he'd have liked.

You didn't get much time to speak to Ace after that, which was both a relief and disappointment to you. Vivi guided Nami to dock in a hidden spot when you reached Erumalu, before the crew was unwittingly the target of creatures that looked like a cross between a turtle and a seal.

"Luffy, don't-!" Vivi tried to warn your captain, but it was too late.

You face-palmed, Ace huffing out a laugh next to you. Though you weren't sure if that was because of your reaction or his brother's antics.

The walk through the desert was not a pleasant one, but you managed. Again, you subconsciously avoided walking beside Ace, and he was amused by this. To tease you, he intentionally kept moving to walk with you, holding back laughter each time you tensed or blushed even slightly.

It was cute.

"So how did you meet my brother?" Ace asked you, standing so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You tensed a little at the memory, and he quickly apologised, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No it's okay," you shook your head, "I'm past it. I was actually unwillingly working for Kuro at the time, who was disguised as a butler for Usopp's, uh, friend. Luffy was...actively recruiting," you laughed, "so when he beat Kuro, I joined his crew."

"He must be convincing if he managed to recruit a former pirate hunter," Ace's eyes drifted to the green-haired swordsman.

You hummed in agreement, "Once you see some of the strongest pirates fall by Luffy's hand, you figure you'd rather be on the side of the crazy, unhinged rubber boy than against him."

Ace chuckled at your description, and as you walked he told you stories of Luffy from their childhood. Most of which did not really surprise you.

"Thanks for putting up with him," he finished, smiling warmly at you. "I know he can be a handful."

"Maybe," you looked at Luffy, who was fighting with Usopp over water. "But he's fiercely protective of his friends. And probably the most persistent, loyal person I've ever met. He's a good captain, even if it's not in the traditional sense."

Ace smiled at that, and the two of you parted to help set up camp for the night when the group stopped to rest.

Later that night, however you couldn't sleep. It was icy cold outside, and even being inside the tent didn't do anything to keep you warm. Shivering, you hugged yourself and exited your tent, only to see Ace sitting just outside it.

"Can't sleep?" He looked up at you, his eyes sympathetic.

"Nope," you sat down beside him - something you never thought you'd do until he had made you feel more at ease around him. "It's so cold."

Ace watched you for a moment, silently debating, before opening his arms.

You saw this, and your eyes widened, "What-"

"Hug me," he grinned. "You look like you could use it."

A fierce blush crossed your cheeks, butterflies blooming in your stomach, "I-"

"Oh come on," he chuckled, "Don't get shy on me again. Come here." His hand gently wrapped around your forearm, and he pulled you closer to him, sliding his arm around you.

Your face burned, but you slowly leaned against him, getting more comfortable - and more confident, by his gentle encouragement to relax on him and let him warm you up.

Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, but you don't remember when.

You jerked awake to shouts and cries the next morning, looking around to find the source of the commotion - which was just Vivi telling Luffy not to eat a scorpion. You sighed, sitting up, only to be stopped by Ace's arms. You turned to look at the commander, who was laughing at his brother, and your cheeks heated up again.

"Oh, you're awake!" Ace grinned, turning to look at you. His warm eyes gleamed with affection, making you blush more.

"Morning," you greeted, "And yes, that's how we wake up most mornings. Someone always shouting at your brother."

Ace laughed, finally loosening his grip on you but not letting go completely. His touch was electrifying, and most of you didn't want him to let go. But a small part of you knew that he had to at some point.

The group continued trekking across the desert, but by now you were much more comfortable walking with Ace. The two of you lingered at the back, behind the rest of the bickering Straw Hat crew, fingers just barely brushing against each other's with how close you were.

You couldn't help it, especially because your attraction to Ace had been there before you'd even met him, and found yourself falling for the charming raven-haired commander.

Though you knew that there was no way he could possibly feel that way about you, so you kept that to yourself.

He was so easy to be around, that you'd forgotten about your initial nervousness. Talking to him, being around him, felt as natural as breathing. He was just that kind of person, you realised, and suddenly you were upset you wasted so much time being too nervous to talk to him.

The crew was forced to stop once again when Luffy had practically handed all your things to a bunch of avian bandits, then proceeded to chase after them across the desert.

Ace settled on a nearby rock, watching in amusement as Zoro, Usopp and Sanji complained about your captain's antics. He apologised for his brother's behaviour, before his eyes travelled to where you stood with the other girls. He stared at you for a moment, his own feelings for you stirring.

Would it be wrong to ask out one of his brother's crewmates?

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace #ace x reader #ace x you

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felassan · 2 months ago

Text

Some Bluesky posts by David Gaider:

David Gaider: "So prepare yourself for another series of threads (easy to ignore that way, if you're not so inclined) where I discuss the journey - from leaving BioWare and then Beamdog, to doing what seemed impossible and starting the studio, to now!" [x]

DG: "The Road to Summerfall - Part 2 I guess the best place to start is with leaving BioWare. Right off the bat, I'll say I enjoyed working there - a lot. Until I didn't. I started in 1999 with BG2 and ended in 2016, 2 years after shipping DAI and after spending a year on the game which became Anthem." [x]

Rest of post is under a cut due to length.

"Things at Bio felt like they were at their height when the Doctors (Ray & Greg, the founders) were still there. We made RPG's, full stop. We made them well. Sure, there were some shitty parts... some which I didn't realize HOW shitty they were until after I left, but I'd never worked anywhere else." [x] "To me, things like the bone-numbing crunch and the mis-management were simply how things were done. I was insulated from a lot of it, too, I think. On the DA team, I had my writers (and we were a crack unit) and I had managers who supported and empowered me. Or indulged me. I'm not sure which, tbh." [x] "It's funny that Mike Laidlaw becoming Creative Director was one of the best working experiences I had there, as initially it was one of the Shitty Things. You see, when Brent Knowles left in 2009, I felt like I was ready to replace him. This was kinda MY project, after all, and who else was there?" [x]

"Well, it turned out this coincided with the Jade Empire 2 team being shut down, and their staff was being shuffled to the other teams. Mike had already been tapped to replace Brent... Mike, a writer. Who I'd helped train. There wasn't even a conversation. When I complained, the reaction? Surprise." [x] "It was the first indication that Bio's upper management just didn't think of me in That Way. That Lead Writer was as far as I was ever getting in that company, and there was a way of Doing Things which involved buddy politics that... I guess I just never quite keyed into. I was bitter, I admit it." [x] "But, like I said, this turned out well. Mike WAS the right pick, damn it. He had charisma and drive, and he even won me over. We worked together well, and I think DA benefited for it. I think I'd still be at Bio, or have stayed a lot longer, but then I made my first big mistake: leaving Dragon Age." [x]

"See, we'd finished DAI in 2014 and I was beginning to feel the burn out coming on. DAI had been a grueling project, and I really felt like there was only so long I could keep writing stories about demons and elves and mages before it started to become rote for me and thus a detriment to the project." [x] "Plus, for the first time I had in Trick Weekes someone with the experience and willingness they could replace me. So I told Mike I thought it was time I moved onto something else... and he sadly let me go. So, for a time, the question became which of the other two BioWare teams I'd move onto." [x] "Both needed a Lead Writer. Mass Effect Andromeda was just gearing up, and while I liked everyone out in Montreal I didn't really want to move. So I joined the new project that the former Mass Effect team in Edmonton was cooking up - the one that became Anthem but, at the time, was code-named Dylan." [x]

"That was a mistake. You see, the thing you need to know about BioWare is that for a long time it was basically two teams under one roof: the Dragon Age team and the Mass Effect team. Run differently, very different cultures, may as well have been two separate studios. And they didn't get along." [x] "The company was aware of the friction and attempts to fix it had been ongoing for years, mainly by shuffling staff between the teams more often. Yet this didn't really solve things, and I had no idea until I got to the Dylan team. The team didn't want me there. At all." [x] "Worse, until this point Dylan had been concepted as kind of a "beer & cigarettes" hard sci-fi setting (a la Aliens), and I'd been given instructions to turn it into something more science fantasy (a la Star Wars). Yet I don't think anyone told the team this. So they thought this change was MY doing." [x]

"I kept getting feedback about how it was "too Dragon Age" and how everything I wrote or planned was "too Dragon Age"... the implication being that *anything* like Dragon Age was bad. And yet this was a team where I was required to accept and act on all feedback, so I ended up iterating CONSTANTLY." [x] "I won't go into detail about the problems except to say it became clear this was a team that didn't want to make an RPG. Were very anti-RPG, in fact. Yet they wanted me to wave my magic writing wand and create a BioWare quality story without giving me any of the tools I'd need to actually do that." [x] "I saw the writing on the wall. This wasn't going to work. So I called up my boss and said that I'd stick it out and try my best, but only if there was SOMETHING waiting on the other side, where I could have more say as Creative Director. I wanted to move up. I was turned down flat, no hesitation." [x]

"That... said a lot. Even more when I was told that, while I could leave the company if I wanted to, I wouldn't have any success outside of BioWare. But in blunter words. So I quit." [x] "Was it easy? Hell no. I thought I'd end up buried under a cornerstone at Bio, honestly. I LIKE security. Sure, I'd dreamed of maybe starting my own studio, but that was a scary idea and I'd never pursued it. I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do, but I wanted OUT." [x] "Which led to me at home after my last day, literally having a nervous breakdown, wondering what kind of idiot gives up a "good job". How was a writer, of all things, with no real interest in business supposed to start his own studio? It felt apocalyptic. Within a year, however, I was on my way." [x]

[original thread, following thread]

Follow-up Q&A Bluesky posts:

User: "Were David Gaider still at Bioware, I am certain you would have showed us exactly how Mythal was transferred to Morrigan. You would have paid off on all those years of growth since DAO" David Gaider: "You can be certain I would have *wanted* to, for sure. Whether I'd have been able to is something not even I can be certain of. During my time at BioWare, I had to settle for less-than-ideal results lots of times - that's just how it goes, when it comes to making games." [x]

User: "jesus fuck that is a revolting way to treat any employee" DG: "The thing that got to me most was the apparent assumption that I needed "success". That this was the most important thing to me, to work on projects that sold millions of copies. I like that, sure, who wouldn't? But he obviously didn't know me at all." [x]

User: "Could you elaborate on the anti-RPG sentiment? Was it like the team didn't want narrative choices or game mechanics that affected dialogue? Did they even want dialogue choices?" DG: "There has always been an element within Bio that quietly resented the idea we could never quite get away from being a studio that "just" made RPG's and that our writing was more celebrated than our action. So, yes: more action, less story, less cinematics, and less dialogue all around." [x]

User: "I mean, that's the team (Ship of Theseus!) that made ME2, right? ME2, which was like ME1 if you added more loyalty quests, more romance options, and made the good ending more dependent on doing the loyalty quests?" DG: "When I say an "element within BioWare", I don't mean the entire team... we're talking about a group of devs, many of which worked on ME2 yes, who gained traction because their views likely aligned with what EA also wanted. Speculation on my part, largely, because I wasn't on that team until Dylan." [x]

User: "Gods that is some really shitty corporate culture to say 'You'll ammount to nothing outside of Bioware!'." DG: "From some perspectives, I haven't. I make indie games that sell thousands of copies, and from a triple-A perspective that's... basically nothing. But I'm happy, I enjoy what I'm doing, and I feel creatively fulfilled. Not everyone thinks those things equate with success, though." [x]

User: "Hold up. Jade Empire was gonna get a sequel? How did that not happen?" DG: "The team worked on it for quite a while. First it was Jade Empire 2, and then they rebooted it as a different game altogether which was kind of "modern Jade Empire but minus anything Asian"... and then they cancelled it. Happens a lot to projects as they spin up." [x]

User: "What do you think began the conflict between the Dragon Age and Mass Effect team?" DG: "I honestly have no idea. Competition for resources, I suppose? One team's plans were always being cut short because the other team suddenly needed all their team members for an upcoming release." [x] User: "That makes sense. I can't imagine how it must feel to have your project side lined or reduced because of another team. Do you think the ME team were more entitled because they perceived their franchise as having a bigger cultural impact?" DG: "I never got that sense, though I was never in the meetings where these things were hashed out. They tended to always get what they needed, however, because EA always expected that each ME game had way more *potential* for huge sales than DA did." [x]

User: "Wow.... this makes so much awful, shifty sense. It has seemed to me, from the outside, that there has been a preference for ME over DA. The launch of DATV and the residual layoffs seemed more of a hit job from inside than just a troll problem." DG: "While I was at BioWare, EA *always* preferred Mass Effect, straight up Their Marketing team liked it more. It was modern. It had action. They never quite knew what to do with DA, and whenever DA outperformed ME, ME got the excuses. If you ask me, it was always just shy of the axe since DA Origins." [x] User: "Can I ask a follow-up question ? Is them not knowing what to do with DA the reason why every DA game was different ? While I love all the games I've always wondered where that originated from" DG: "Maybe in part? I'd say the biggest reason was that, while I was there, the BioWare teams were bad at overreaction. They'd take the feedback/criticism to heart - both our own and the fans' - and generally fixed that but also overcorrected. And then there was EA's influence on top of that, yes." [x]

User: "Is that why DA games never got a remaster/remake?" DG: "There's a lot more that goes into such a question, I'd say, though I honestly have no idea. I can't imagine it helped." [x] User: "Do you feel EA will perhaps sell off DA to another developer like Larian (Baulders Gate) or Playground (Fable)? Considering the reception of Inquisition and Veilguard?" DG: "I suppose anything is possible, but to me it seems unlikely if EA thinks there's any chance they might just sit on the IP until they can reboot it later on." [x]

User: "I've always gotten that vibe from the games department, yet I also saw Dragon Age getting a LOT more attention than Mass Effect when it came to the peripheral material like books, comics, lore books, etc. Do you know why?" DG: "I don’t think that was ever true? ME was so much easier with logo branding, and the N7 hoodie was ACE. 😅" [x]

User: "Was there ever any pressure put on the DA team to move away from RPGs?" DG: "Not initially. Initially Ray & Greg said they were fine with having two different styles of RPGs. After they left, there was pressure to emulate ME more and more because, again, it was the “future”." [x]

User: "May I ask for timeframe? Did you work on Joplin at all, or did you move before it even entered planning stage?" DG: "Joplin wasn’t really being worked on while I was still there. The DA team was finishing the last of the DAI DLCs." [x]

User: "i don't think it was just EA, was it? i recall several instances of ray muzyka praising mass effect in interviews or open letters but i don't recall once him doing it for dragon age." DG: "I can’t say. Ray was a big fantasy fan, so I doubt it." [x]

DG: "In terms of the remasters, I suspect the major difference between the two wasn’t favouritism but rather the engine. All three ME games were made in Unreal." [x]

User: "If you stayed, would you be able to persuade BioWare/EA to push DA4 on the success of DAI or would it be cancelled/delayed like Veilguard did?" DG: "I was a sub-lead, not even a senior lead. I would have had as much influence as I did when I was there, which is to say very little." [x]

User: "Anytime I see ex-BioWare people talk about Anthem, I can’t help but wonder if that game should have been axed early on - it never felt much like a BioWare game, even in the marketing. Or would you say that the game itself could have been fine, but it was the management of the IP that was the issue?" DG: "The initial version I worked on still had some RPG in it, but you could see where the winds were blowing. I think the team leads just convinced themselves it was good and would all work out somehow. Through “BioWare magic”, I guess." [x]

User: "Every time I hear about this or see it, it always sounds like the ME team were just a-holes. No great way but to say it bluntly. Nothing to be done." DG: "I wouldn’t say that. Most of them were lovely. We were always competing for very finite resources, however." [x]

[original thread, following thread]

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inseobts · 3 months ago

Note

Hey, hope you’re doing good. I know you have many request but I have an idea.

Reader is the "sister" of Ace, Sabo and Luffy. Reader disappeared after Sabos death and years later, after Aces death, Luffy met her in the new world and he is so happy that she’s alive.

Maybe Reader has a devil fruit power that let her body turn into fabric and can make it harder so softer to fight enemies

Luffy’s ‘sister’

luffy x fem!reader (platonic I guess)

part 2

a/n: I wrote it thinking it happens after the time-skip and before dressrosa arc. Also I didn't know if you wanted it to be platonic or not so I tried to stay in the middle + some talks about Ace and Sabo to make it emotional but also funny.

tags: post-timeskip, asl's sister, memories, humor

words count: 3.1k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“Captain! There’s a ship up ahead!” Usopp shouts, peering through his scope “It’s not attacking, but… there’s someone standing on the mast!”

Luffy’s eyes narrow. A lone figure stands tall against the wind, their long coat billowing like a flag. He squints, and for a second, his breath catches.

No way.

Before anyone can react, the figure leaps from the mast. They’re coming straight for them.

Zoro reaches for his swords, but Luffy throws out an arm “Wait!” His voice shakes. The others hesitate, Luffy never sounds like this.

The person lands gracefully on the deck, boots tapping softly against the wood. The wind carries their voice as they straighten.

“It’s been a long time… Luffy.”

His world tilts. He knows that voice. That face. His heart slams against his ribs.

“Y/N??” His voice cracks as he shouts your name.

The crew watches in shock as their captain rushes forward, arms flailing. Before you can react, he crashes into you, hugging you tight.

“I thought you were gone!” Luffy shouts into your shoulder, his grip like iron “You disappeared! After Sabo—” His voice stumbles, raw and unguarded.

You tense at the names, but slowly raise a hand to his back, patting him “I didn’t die, Luffy.”

“But you weren’t there!” He pulls back, eyes glistening “Why did you leave like that? Why didn’t you come back?!”

You sigh, fingers curling slightly “Because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“That’s stupid!” Luffy exclaims, pouting “We needed you!”

Before you can answer, Zoro clears his throat “Uh, Luffy, mind explaining?”

You glance at the swordsman, then at the rest of the crew “Oh… right. I guess you guys don’t know me.”

Luffy grins, though there’s still a hint of sadness in his eyes. He turns to his crew, beaming “This is Y/N! My sister!”

“WHAT?!” Nami, Usopp, and Chopper yell at the same time.

“Not by blood,” you correct, crossing your arms “Ace, Sabo, and Luffy—” Your voice falters just slightly “We swore to be siblings when we were kids.”

Robin watches you carefully “Then why have we never heard of you?”

You don’t answer immediately. Your fingers twitch, and a thread unravels from your sleeve, dancing between your fingers.

“I disappeared,” you finally say “After Sabo’s ship was destroyed, I—I lost it. I ran. And then when Ace...”

Luffy flinches, and you stop. The air between you is heavy.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, rolling your shoulders “I got stronger. And now I’m here.”

Sanji steps forward, eyes softened despite the cigarette between his lips “You survived all this time alone?”

“Not alone,” you smirk “I had my own crew for a while. And my devil fruit helped.”

Before anyone can ask, your body shifts. Your arms ripple, turning into woven fibers, flowing like silk before hardening like steel. You smirk “I ate the Nuno Nuno no Mi. I can turn my body into fabric, make it soft, hard, anything I need to fight.”

Franky whistles “That’s super cool!”

You chuckle, but then Luffy suddenly grabs your shoulders. His grin is wide, bright, filled with something he hasn’t felt in years.

“You’re here,” he says, voice full of relief “You’re really here.”

Your breath hitches. You never thought you’d see that smile again, not aimed at you. Not after everything.

But here he is. And something deep inside you, something broken, starts to mend.

“Yeah,” you murmur “I’m here, Luffy.”

And for the first time in years, you let yourself believe it.

Luffy doesn’t let go. His grip is strong, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he loosens up even a little.

You sigh “Luffy, I need to breathe.”

He finally steps back, laughing “Oops. But I still can’t believe it! You’re alive!”

The crew watches closely, their curiosity thick in the air. Nami crosses her arms “Okay, so you’re Luffy’s ‘sister.’ But why are you here now?”

You hesitate. You’ve had plenty of time to think about what to say, but now that you’re here, nothing comes out easily.

“I heard about what happened.” Your voice is quieter now “To Ace.”

Luffy’s smile falters, and the ship falls silent. The crew shifts uncomfortably, all of them stealing glances at their captain.

Your hands clench into fists “I wasn’t there for him.”

Luffy’s expression darkens, but he shakes his head “It wasn’t your fault.”

You let out a bitter chuckle “That’s funny, coming from you.”

His jaw tightens, but before he can say anything, you push forward “I looked for you after Marineford. I heard you were alive, but by the time I tracked you down, you were already gone. Off training, I guess.”

“So you’ve been looking for him this whole time?” Robin asks.

“Not exactly,” you admit “I had my own things to take care of. But when I heard the Straw Hats were back in the New World… well, I figured it was time.”

Luffy tilts his head “Time for what?”

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck “To come back. To fight alongside you.”

For a moment, Luffy just stares. Then, his face splits into the biggest grin.

“That’s awesome! You should join my crew!”

The words hit you like a punch.

Your mind pulls you back, years and years ago. Four kids, sitting in the woods, dreaming of the future.

“I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Luffy had shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

Ace had smirked “Then I’ll be the one to make sure no one beats you.”

Sabo had laughed “I’ll see the whole world first. Every inch of it!”

And you had thrown your arms up, puffing out your chest “Then I’m gonna be the strongest and most beautiful pirate captain ever! The most beautiful and powerful woman that no man can defeat!”

The boys had groaned at your declaration, but you had been serious. You wanted to stand among the greatest, make a name for yourself, lead your own crew.

But after Sabo’s death, that dream had faded. You let yourself forget it, bury it deep. You lost sight of what you wanted.

Yet here Luffy is, standing in front of you, still believing in his dream like nothing had ever changed.

And somehow, that makes you smile.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you say honestly “But I’ll stick around for a while.”

Luffy pumps his fist in the air “That’s good enough for me!”

Zoro steps forward, eyeing you critically “If you’re going to be traveling with us, I want to know what you can do. A devil fruit alone doesn’t mean you can keep up.”

Your lips curl into a smirk “You want to test me, swordsman?”

Zoro’s hand rests on Wado Ichimonji’s hilt “I want to make sure you won’t be dead weight.”

Luffy laughs “A fight! Yeah, let’s see what you got, Y/N!”

You crack your knuckles “Fine. Let’s take this to the deck.”

Within minutes, the crew forms a rough circle around you and Zoro. You stretch your arms, fabric threads extending from your sleeves before retracting.

Zoro rolls his shoulders “You ready?”

You grin “Always.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, he vanishes. Fast. But you’ve fought swordsmen before.

You twist, your body unraveling into woven strands as his blade slices through where your torso should be. He lands behind you, eyes narrowing at your now fabric-like form.

“Interesting” he mutters.

You re-solidify and whip your arm forward, threads shooting out like a whip. He blocks with his sword, but the force pushes him back.

Sanji whistles “Not bad.”

Zoro lunges again, this time faster. You harden your right arm, making it as dense as wood, and block his strike. But you misjudge his strength. His blade slices clean through, cutting your arm right off at the elbow.

Chopper gasps “Zoro! You cut her arm!”

But you don’t even flinch. Instead, the severed fabric of your arm ripples and knits itself back together, new threads forming until your arm is as good as new.

“Nice try” you tease, flexing your fingers.

Zoro’s eyes flash with interest “Huh. So that’s how it works.”

Before either of you can move again, Luffy jumps between you, laughing “Okay, okay! You’re strong! Zoro, she wins!”

Zoro scoffs but doesn’t argue. He sheathes his sword “You’ll do.”

Luffy throws an arm around your shoulders, grinning “Then it’s settled! Y/N is sailing with us!”

You shake your head but don’t push him off. For the first time in years, something feels right.

Maybe this is where you’re meant to be.

The next few days aboard the Sunny feel… strange. Familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

Luffy drags you around, introducing you to every part of the ship as if you’re not already well aware of how a crew operates. You humor him anyway.

Chopper asks you a million questions about your devil fruit. Franky gushes over how “super” your ability is. Brook tells you a story that somehow turns into a song. Sanji cooks you meals that make your stomach ache with nostalgia.

At night, you sit alone on the deck, staring at the stars. You remember sitting like this with Ace, Sabo and Luffy, talking about the future, making stupid promises.

“You’re thinking about them, aren’t you?”

You glance over. Luffy is sitting beside you, his usual grin absent. His expression is quiet, thoughtful.

You sigh “Yeah.”

A long silence stretches between you. Then—

“I miss them too.”

Your chest tightens. Luffy isn’t good with words when it comes to things like this, but the way he says it, the raw honesty in his voice, hits you harder than anything else.

“I wish I could’ve been there for Ace,” you admit “I wish I could’ve helped.”

Luffy shakes his head “Ace wouldn’t want that. He did what he wanted. Just like Sabo.”

The name makes your throat tighten. The last time you saw him, he was setting out on that boat. You were kids. You never got to say goodbye.

“Do you ever wonder if things would be different?” you ask quietly.

Luffy looks up at the sky, thinking. Then, he grins “Nah. Because I’m still gonna be King of the Pirates!”

You blink at him, then let out a small chuckle “You really haven’t changed, huh?”

“Nope!” He grins wider, stretching his arms behind his head “Back then, we all had our own dreams, right? Ace wanted to make sure no one beat me, Sabo wanted to see the world, and you—”

He turns to you, his grin turning softer.

“You wanted to be the strongest and most beautiful pirate captain ever.”

Your breath catches. You haven’t thought about that in so long.

Luffy leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees “And y’know what? You already did it.”

You stare at him “What?”

“You’re still a captain, even if you don’t have a crew right now. And you’re already the strongest and most beautiful woman pirate I know!”

Your face heats up, and you smack his arm lightly “Idiot. You don’t just say stuff like that.”

“But it’s true!” Luffy laughs “You didn’t give up, Y/N. You’re still out here, still fighting. That means your dream is still real.”

His words settle deep in your chest. You lost sight of that dream for so long, let yourself forget it after Sabo’s death. But hearing it from Luffy…

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe your dream never really died.

You exhale, a small smile tugging at your lips “Yeah. Maybe it is.”

Luffy grins ��Then let’s keep going together!”

You laugh, shaking your head “You really don’t let things go, do you?”

“Nope!”

You roll your eyes, but something in you feels lighter.

The next morning, the crew is gathered around the deck, eating breakfast. Luffy, as always, is stuffing his face like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

You sit next to him, sipping your drink when he suddenly smacks the table “Oh yeah! I should tell you guys some stories about when we were kids!”

You nearly choke “Luffy—”

But it’s too late. The crew is already interested.

“Oh? This sounds fun” Robin says with a knowing smile.

“Yes, tell us more about our dear Y/N!” Brook laughs “Embarrassing stories, if you have them!”

You glare at Luffy, silently warning him to shut up. He ignores you completely.

“Okay, okay, so there was this one time Y/N lost a bet and had to marry one of us!” Luffy announces proudly.

You drop your cup “Luffy, shut up!”

“Wait, what?!” Nami and Usopp both exclaim.

Sanji nearly chokes on his cigarette “Marry?! Who?!”

Luffy grins mischievously, pointing his thumb at himself “Me!”

You groan, burying your face in your hands “I hate you.”

The crew erupts into laughter.

“Wait, wait,” Franky says between chuckles “How did this even happen?”

Luffy leans back, grinning ear to ear “So we were playing this game, and Y/N lost as always. Ace said the loser had to marry one of us for the day.”

“Ace was the priest” you mutter, shaking your head.

“And Sabo was the one crying like a proud parent” Luffy adds “Like, real tears! He was all, ‘No! Y/N, you're too young for this!’”

Usopp is wheezing “He actually cried?!”

“Yeah!” Luffy nods enthusiastically “I don’t even know if he was faking it or not, but it was so funny!”

You groan “I wanted to punch every single one of them so bad, but Ace said it was against the ‘sacred marriage rules.’”

Zoro smirks, raising a brow “So, did you two actually go through with it?”

Luffy shrugs “Yeah! I even made her a ring out of leaves.”

“And then I threw it at his face, and he started crying like a baby, so Ace had to end the act.” you grumble.

The crew bursts into laughter again. Even you can’t help but smile a little.

“Man,” Luffy sighs, looking up at the sky “We were so dumb back then.”

“You still are” you retort.

He laughs “Yeah, but it was fun, right?”

You pause, thinking back to those carefree days in the forest. Even with all the fights, the chaos, the stupid dares, you wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

“Yeah,” you admit with a small smile “It was.”

Luffy grins wider, shoving more food into his mouth.

The conversation shifts, but as the crew laughs and jokes around, you can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest.

Then suddenly Zoro smirks, arms crossed “So, she’s not your sister but your wife?”

Silence.

Then—

“EH?!” Usopp nearly spits out his drink.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” you yell at the same time.

Luffy tilts his head “Huh? But she’s my sister.”

Brook chuckles “Well, technically, if you were married, wouldn’t that make her your—”

“NO!” you cut in before he can finish that cursed sentence.

Sanji slams his hands on the table, looking like he’s about to explode “Luffy, you idiot! You were married to such a beautiful lady, and you didn’t even treat it like a sacred bond?!”

“It was a joke, you idiot!” you snap.

Luffy just laughs, completely unfazed “Yeah! It was just for a day! She couldn’t be my wife for real anyway, she actually had feelings for Ace.”

Dead silence again.

Then—

“WHAT?!”

Your eyes widen as your face heats up “I did what?!”

Luffy nods confidently “Yeah! I'm not that stupid... You totally liked Ace, right? I mean, you always got flustrated when he teased you. And you looked all shy and stuff whenever he did something nice for you.”

You freeze, blinking at him in utter disbelief “Luffy, what are you talking about?!”

Luffy grins, oblivious to the red creeping up your neck “Well, yeah! You were always blushing around him, and when Ace told you he’d protect you, you got all embarrassed and smiled like you were secretly happy.”

Your eyes twitch as you realize what he’s saying “Luffy, that was just because Ace was a big annoying idiot!”

Luffy tilts his head, thinking it over “Hmm… Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly that. But you definitely cared a lot about him!”

You rub your temples, trying to keep your cool “I did care about Ace, but NOT like that!”

The crew watches, barely containing their laughter as Luffy’s words continue to spiral.

Luffy isn’t fully convinced “But you were always jealous when he’d hang out with Sabo, you wanted to be with him all the time.”

You stare at him in disbelief “What?!”

“Yeah! I thought you were just mad ’cause you wanted Ace to spend more alone time with you!”

You grit your teeth, ready to explode when suddenly, Robin, who has been quietly listening, raises her hand and looks at you with a knowing smile.

“Ohhh! So you liked Sabo!”

You freeze.

“Eh?” Luffy tilts his head in confusion.

Robin’s expression remains calm as she leans forward, explaining “Yeah, from what Luffy is saying you always seemed a little flustered when Ace teased you, but not because of him, it was because Sabo was watching, right?”

Your heart skips a beat as you realize the implication. The room goes quiet. The crew looks between Robin and you as the pieces start to fall into place.

“What do you mean?” Usopp asks, his voice shaky, as if he’s starting to understand.

Robin continues, her eyes twinkling “When Ace said he would protect you, you didn’t get flustered because you liked him. It was because you wanted Sabo be the one to protect you, not Ace.”

Your face burns “I—I didn’t like him like that!”

Luffy blinks, completely oblivious “Huh? I always thought you were shy around Ace because you liked him.”

You fight the urge to bury your face in your hands “No! I didn’t!”

But as the crew starts piecing Luffy’s stories and your reactions together, you realize they’ve started to connect the dots. Robin did a good job analysing is all. Yet Luffy never caught on.

Franky scratches his head, still a little confused but grinning “So, wait, you liked Sabo the while marrying Luffy?”

“NO!” You practically shout, flailing your arms “I—”

Luffy, ever the oblivious one, just laughs “Heh, it’s okay, Y/N. It happens to everyone! I mean, you liked Sabo? It’s cool!”

Your embarrassment grows tenfold “Luffy, I swear—”

The crew is in full-on teasing mode now, and you just want to hide. Sanji’s voice cracks as he dramatically falls to his knees “Sabo, you lucky one…”

You finally give up. You collapse into your seat, covering your face with both hands “I hate all of you. We all were just kids… I was just a dumb kid with a dumb crush for a dumb kid...”

Despite your frustration, a small smile sneaks onto your face. This was ridiculous, but it felt… kind of good. Having these memories out in the open, even the embarrassing ones, made you feel like you were truly home again.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

Now this is your new life with the Straw Hats.

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