#pick strategies that speak to/work for you

[pollenallergie]

“do the hardest task first”

no. just… no.

hot take: this doesn’t work for people with adhd (in my experience/from what i’ve heard from other people with adhd in my life). i recommend doing the easy/moderately difficult stuff first, that way you can convince yourself that it’s all going to be this easy and undemanding. then hyper-focus will kick in because your brain is like, “yeah, we can do this, we’ve got this.” then, before you know it, you’ve completed both the easy tasks and the hard tasks while hyperfocusing.

like, on a serious note, it’s always been easier for me to convince myself to get the most difficult tasks done when i’m already working/in the working frame of mind, not when i’m laying in bed or sitting on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through stuff on my phone, and struggling to start at all.

if the choice comes down to you not starting at all or starting with the easiest task first (which, for me, it often does), always, always pick starting with the easiest task first. sometimes you need a small victory, a little bit of an accomplishment, to give you the courage to take on bigger challenges.

[cosmicschmidt]

UNTIL I FOUND YOU

PART 2, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Coriolanus Snow did not mean for this to happen.

He did not intend to have this weird tingly feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of her.

He did not mean to fall for his tribute from District 12.

As he patiently sat in his seat with his heart hammering in his chest due to not knowing if he´d receive the scholarship, adrenaline and excitement ran through his veins.

Yet, that was taken from him the moment Sejanus Plinth whispered to him that that certain day he looked forward to would not turn out as he hoped.

The Plinth Prize was won by the best mentor.

Each of them has to mentor a tribute and create the best version of them, create strategies and work on their behavior in the arena.

As all the tributes are presented, their names called alongside their mentors, Coriolanus´ hands start to sweat the longer he is not told who he has to work with.

The faces of his fellow students show different emotions, some cheer in happiness at their tributes state, others are laced with worry if their tribute even manages to walk straight.

"And last but not least, the girl from District 12, Coriolanus Snow."

His eyes shoot back to the small screen, his gaze falls to the name written underneath the short clip, Y/N L/N.

"I volunteer as tribute."

The screen shows a screaming girl, around the age of 11 as she trashes in the hold of someone else´s arms, desperately trying to escape their grasp to reach the other girl.

The other girl's face is slightly blurred due to the wide angle of the camera that is following her figure, but as the picture clears up, Coriolanus can´t help but suck in a breath.

A weird feeling boils in his chest that causes his heartbeat to pick up behind his ribcage, just as he thought it couldn´t get worse a few butterflies form in his stomach causing his white tunic to suddenly feel tighter. His hands go to the collar pulling a little on the fabric to calm his heartbeat.

The tribute from 12, stepped in for the younger girl and took her fate as her own. The girl, now known as Y/N doesn´t look back at the screaming girl, she takes small steps to the stage and steps on it the moment she reaches it.

Although her hands tremble beside her body, her eyes are stern and show no emotion, successfully keeping herself from spilling the dread that formed in her chest the moment her little sister's name was called.

"What a twist! Our first ever volunteer of 12, what an honor." the 12´s mayor speaks, yet no reaction falls from the crowd at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose that was your sister? Sweet little thing just turned 12, but luckily she has you as her big sister." Mayor Lipp tries to create small talk, but Y/N doesn´t seem to take interest in that, her eyes boring into the camera that is fixated on her face.

Everyone that surrounds Coriolanus watches intensely and waits for her next words.

Y/N´s jaw clenches a little as her gaze wanders over her district's citizens, some laugh at her situation, while others, alongside her family have tears in their eyes and hold a hand in front of their mouths to contain a sob from spilling past their lips.

Instead of words leaving her mouth, she does a mocking and overly dramatic bend forward with her arms stretched out on each side of her body.

Just as two Peacekeepers grab a hold of her arms and pull her off the stage she yells out,

"YOU CAN ALL SUCK I-" but her words muffle due to her being pulled away.

Meanwhile, everyone around Coriolanus starts to whisper.

Some voice behind him, "Who does she think she is?"

"Imagine having to work with that, guess who won´t win the Plinth Prize.." followed by laughing.

And more to his left, "The audacity, I´m telling you she´s the first to bleed out." followed by more remarks and chuckles.

Though Coriolanus can’t feel bothered by their remarks, as he watches her being dragged away from the stage with a stern look on her face.

The blonde watches with bewilderment yet with respect for her volunteering for someone else, a small smirk forming on his face as the side of his mouth pull up a little.

* ˚ ✦

Coriolanus´ gaze is fixated on the white rose in his palms, his eyes trail over each and every flaw he can spot.

Is it pretty enough?

Or is this gesture not normal in the relationship between a mentor and their tribute?

He wonders how you might react to this act of politeness, yet before he can keep up with his thoughts he´s pulled out of it when he hears the train near the train station.

There it is, it glides against the train racks before it comes to a harsh stop with a small screech, the blonde´s eyes trail over the different train carts, wondering where the certain girl from 12 is being kept.

At least a dozen armed Peacekeepers emerge from around the station, and the first cart´s handle is grabbed forcefully and shoved open, a small girl hesitantly jumps down to the ground, before she erupts into a few coughs as if she has to catch her breath from taking a run.

She´s followed by a tall boy who wears a expression he can´t read, although his brows are furrowed and a small line forms between them. The tall male´s eyes immediately find Coriolanus due to his bloody red outfit.

The male doesn´t seem to be the only one, almost everyone that already emerged from their part of the train has their eyes on him.

He fidgets with the rose again, a shiver running down his spine and all the way to his feet and then his toes.

As some tributes are escorted to the transporter outside, Coriolanus finally spots the male tribute from District 12, he remembers his name, Jessup. With a sigh of relief, he takes a few steps to him, and finally, his eyes spot the girl he so desperately tried to find the entire time.

Jessup´s hands are securely wrapped around her waist as he picks her up and helps her out of the train so she can steady herself. She smiles up at Jessup whispers a small ´thanks´ and pats him on his upper arm before she starts to take in all her surroundings.

Although their conversation is muffled, "Are you sure your neck is fine? The bite looks painful..."

Coriolanus´ breathing stops for a second, just now he notices that no camera ever will be able to take in all her beauty, his lips part a little and he can feel his mouth running dry.

Now that Y/N dusted her clothes off and had taken a look around the train station, her eyes move to her right and are met with piercing blue orbs. Although she acknowledged him, he couldn´t help but keep staring at her, the white rose in his left hand long forgotten as it rested next to his body. Confusion dawned on her face as she looked over to Jessup who offered the same expression.

The two of them share a look with a shrug before she turns her back to Coriolanus and starts to take a few steps away from him.

The blonde seems to snap out of it and with a small shake of his head and with two steps he keeps up with her smaller ones.

"Uhm- Welcome to the Capitol." he offers her a smile and holds the rose up for her to see.

Her mouth set in a hard line while her cheeks glowed a tad bit redder than before, "You don´t look like you should be here…?" she asked unsure, her eyes still trained up at his face before they fell on the flower in his hand - which slightly started to tremble -

"Uhm, I shouldn´t, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and I´m your mentor," he adds, the smile still coating his lips as he offers her the rose again.

"Mentor?" she laughs out in disbelief after she finally takes the flower out of his trembling hand and looks at it. Jessup is standing behind her, and his face still shows the same confusion it did earlier.

"Yeah, it´s my job to help you survive the arena," Coriolanus replies, the moment she took the rose out of his grasp his hand went limp and fell back to his side.

"And how exactly-" Y/N doesn´t get the opportunity to reply to his words before someone roughly pulls on her arm and drags her forcefully to the exit of the train station.

Peacekeepers decided to cut their conversation short, they pulled her with them like she weighed nothing, "I can walk by myself perfectly fine." she said loudly before she slapped the hand that was wrapped around her biceps off.

"Wait! I´m her Mentor!" Coriolanus speaks up, yet the distance between mentor and tribute is growing with each second, and the blonde picks up his steps in order to keep up with them.

A few shouts and orders are ringing through the air, the atmosphere filled with dread and an uncomfortable tension. Outside awaits a transporter for the tributes, and like pigs they are thrown and shoved into it, ready to be taken to the slaughterhouse.

The district 12 girl's eyes are trailing behind her trying to catch a glimpse of the red that coats her so-called ´mentor´, she can´t seem to see him but his shouts still reach her ringing ears.

A small hand wraps around her right hand startling the 17-year-old girl, but she quickly relaxes when she sees the small girl from District 8, Wovey. She seems scared by the loud noises, and Y/N offers her a small smile and squeeze of the hand in order to calm her down. Y/N spots a small seat at the back right corner and leads her over to it, there´s not enough space for the both of them, so she lets Wovey take it and stands beside her.

Coriolanus´ opportunity seems to flash in front of him for a split second as a tribute tries to make a run for it, the Peacekeepers running close behind, and with three steps the blonde leaps into the back of the transporter.

He runs all the way to the back of it, before he takes a few breaths trying to tame the adrenaline that shoots through his veins, his breathing calming down from the small thrill he felt.

He straightens down his clothes, and immediately spots Y/N, hand-in-hand with the little girl, her eyes holding awe, yet mostly confusion at why he just ran after her. "What are you doing here?" she whisper-yells, in order not to attract the Peacekeeper's attention.

He can´t help but draw his lower lip between his teeth, letting his actions sink in "Yeah who the hell are you?"

"Uhm-" he starts to speak up, as the other tributes´ eyes hold anger and confusion, most of them standing up and taking a few steps closer to him, cornering him a little. The red that radiates from his red clothes alerts the others.

"I suppose he´s my mentor." Y/N quickly speaks up, her voice cutting through the tension that started to build itself.

"What the hell is a mentor? And why did you get one but we didn´t?"

"Did she get one just because she was the first to volunteer?"

Y/N opens her mouth again to reply but Coriolanus beats her to it, "No, you all get a mentor, I promise the same chances are laid out for everyone." he says with a slightly raised voice so everyone hears his words.

A few unamused chuckles emerge from the ´crowd´ that formed around him, nevertheless a tall guy grabs him by the collar and slams Coriolanus back against the wall behind him pulling a gasp from his lips.

"Don´t shit talk us, what are you doing here?! Are you here to spy on us? What sick games did you plan?!" he yells in his face, although Coriolanus is taller than him, he raises his hands in surrender in order to calm the angry tribute.

Y/N sighs and softly drops Wolvey´s hand onto the girl's lap, she takes a step forward rests her hand on the tribute´s shoulder gently yet harshly, and pushes against him.

"You get your own mentor, now drop it," she says loudly, the tributes around them purse their lips and keep looking at Coriolanus like he´s some meal they can devour.

"A Capitol´s sweetheart could be helpful, why not kill him to send a fucking message." everyone around them agrees except for Y/N and a few in the back, them equally as terrified as Coriolanus.

Coriolanus laughs at their ´plan´ and breathes out a few pained breathes due to him being pressed against the wall, however, before anyone else gets the chance to speak up, the container they are kept in starts to shake a little and then does a jump that causes everyone to lose their balance. The tribute that held the blonde up against the wall let go of him, the everyone including Coriolanus hold onto the nearest thing they could find to steady themselves.

Y/N yelps at the sudden movement that throws her forward and grabs onto Coriolanus´ right arm, the boy in question sneaks his right arm around her waist to steady her and takes hold of a handle that sticks out of the metal wall.

With a rumble and another much harsher shake of the container, the doors suddenly swing open and the place they were kept in for the past 10 minutes moves upwards, changing the position from vertical to horizontal.

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his grasp.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup move out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

I might consider writing a second part! I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

science experiment is my new favorite, dear lord it’s incredible

"We might have a problem, Alfie," Dick sing-songed as he leaned against the wall where Alfred was making sure the outdoor shenanigans that were serving as "training" today didn't get out of hand.

The butler glanced up to where Jason kept watching you, almost hovering near you. But trying to make it look like he wasn't. "So far as I'm concerned, it looks like the opposite of a problem."

"Maybe," Dick mused.

"How much did he see? Last night, I mean?"

"The aftermath," Dick sighed. "Mud, blood, tears, and snot."

"Oh dear," he tutted. "Master Bruce told me that he found Jason tending to the wounds on her hands and feet this morning. And that he seemed... almost like his old self."

Dick nodded to where you'd made your way over to Cass, the newest addition and offered to be on her "team". Cass wasn't a big talker- she could hardly speak at all- but. Thanks to your empathic quirk, neither of you really needed to talk to team up. And it hadn't taken Cass long to figure that out. OR to figure out that you were physically not very durable. Still. The smiles and the fist bump said it all. "Do we have extra hydration packs on hand?" he asked.

"Always," Alfred said. Reasonably, no one expected you to participate. And no one pulled punches when you did. But- watching you laugh with the other girls when Dick jogged over to even it up properly... well. Maybe, you could get a couple nights of decent sleep.

Bruce strode out onto the lawn and dropped into a chair with a grunt. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Swimmingly," Alfred said, pouring cold drinks and making sure that yours had the specific blend of things that had been prescribed to you in your bottle. "Miss Y/N and Miss Cassandra have been working out some things they can utilize in the field and the others have been enjoying creating chaos to facilitate that."

"Hn."

"And Jason has been hovering like a mother hen," Alfred chuckled.

"So much for not having a crush," Bruce hummed. "How is Y/N holding up?"

"Tiring out, I think. But they've been doing what they can to keep her from having to over-exert herself- after all. It's not like we need to know what the upper limits are."

"Fair-" But before he can finish asking for specifics, you waver on your feet halfway through a strategy you'd been working out with Cass. But before you crumple, Jason is right behind you. Picking you up against his chest.

His face burning as he murmured something against your flustered protests. You radiated flustered embarrassment. And he deposited you in a chair carefully. "It probably would have worked," he muttered, "Dick and Steph talk too much."

You nod and accept the proffered water bottle awkwardly and take a drink, "Thanks."

"What were you trying to do?" Bruce asked? He hadn't SEEN Cass, but that didn't mean anything.

"Lead her into the best position for a sneak attack using my location with emotional resonance... since I can make the people feel things we were playing hot and cold. So I was picking up on where she was and kinda leading her to where she needed to be as we were wandering around."

"Hn." Bruce nodded. Considering that. He'd THOUGHT about using that as a strategy before. You did possess the ability to hone in on people you knew well-

"You okay?" Jason asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"Fine," you murmur, rolling your water bottle between your hands and looking down. Taking a few deep breaths to shove all your emotions back under control as the others lope back up from the grass for drinks and snacks. Cass sat on the arm of your chair and thudded her head gently on your shoulder. Smiling a little when you lean your head on hers.

Bruce watches the little exchange with bemusement and nods to himself. It made sense. Cass had few words and you could make yourself understood without it. But0 he did wonder, as he watched Jason watch it all happen, how he felt about it.

[sarah-yyy]

what is war of faith about? is it worth a watch apart from just wang yibo(being gay?)? and where should i watch it?

you were all expecting me to do this so okay let's see how many others i can drag down this shenlai (i think this is the ship name we've settled on?? i have seen many 沈来之笔 tags on ao3 so i'm assuming that's what the chinese fandom has settled on) hole.

what: republican era communist spy drama (finance bros edition) // completed // 38 eps, roughly 40 mins each where: iqiyi (standard disclaimer that i don’t watch with subs so i don’t speak to the quality of eng subs) why: *chanting* yibo yibo yibo yibo yib- wang yang?? xiansheng???? i'll preface by saying i don't watch many republican era shows - it's really just not my thing, like even zhu yilong couldn't make me watch one and that's saying a lot, but i did finish and quite enjoy this one!! extremely strong cast on this show, and the story moved fast enough and had enough action in it that it kept my attention.

meet my boy wei ruolai:

ruolai is from a v humble family, worked hard to put himself through night school but is having trouble stepping foot into the finance world because he has no money, no connections, no diploma (the school is holding off on issuing him one because he's from a communist-stronghold province 😪). he's working several jobs to make ends meet in shanghai when he decides to interview for a job at the central bank.

he aces his entrance test! ofc he does! ruolai is a bit of a whiz with numbers, and is very very very determined to get the job - the place could be on goddamn fire for all he cares, he'll finish his goddamn test and get this goddamn job even if it kills him.

his performance gains him the attention of shen tunan:

xiansheng!! 😍💖💕

chief of the central bank, The Guy™ of the finance and banking industry in shanghai. extremely attractive in a suit. 100% dilf certified.

xiansheng takes a shine on ruolai, but ends up not being able to hire ruolai despite his excellence because, again, ruolai is from a communist-stronghold province, and they don't want to take any chances with him possibly having communist ties.

does that set ruolai back?? no. my boy sneaks into a party that shen tunan is holding at his mansion, and convinces shen tunan to hire him by essentially picking apart shen tunan's ~secret strategies~ that he's uncovered just by following the finance news and making smart deductions 🥺💚

shen tunan caves and personally hires ruolai as his PA, and begins mentoring him and teaching him the ways of the banking industry.

the show is mostly about ruolai's growth in the central bank and the shift of his political beliefs, centred around the kmt and communist party's conflict in that era. the premise of the show is fairly simple - most republican era dramas move in the same direction. this one was well-written, had a solid cast, and beautifully shot.

the development of stn and wrl's relationship in this show was good! it's v shippable, if that's something that is important to you. ngl, i did stay through till the end because these two were so interesting.

we have proud teacher shen tunan who is so so proud of his boy and takes ruolai suit-shopping and tells him how special he is :

starry-eyed disciple wei ruolai who would literally do anything for shen tunan:

he really does mean it when he says that. he gets tortured and thrown in goddamn jail for shen tunan, and he just bears it all and doesn't let himself react in any manner that could harm shen tunan.

i started this strictly for yibo, and had no expectations that i would enjoy it, but guys...........wang yang is 🥵🔥 in this as shen tunan, and this ship just.......sails itself. what else was i supposed to do except go three hundred different levels of ahhhhhhhhh over them.

ANYWAY. strong rec. like at least 8.5/10. even if you're just in it for yibo (who is EXCELLENT in this, the whump scenes are incredible), or if you just want to ship shenlai, the payoff is strong in this.

[milkiematcha]

600 words of jeno jacking off in a bathroom because you’re hot

lee jeno was going to collapse. not from anything he’d done today- he’d barely done more than lounge around and take a few photos to post- but from the photo, you had decided to send him. a mirror picture, with one of his sweaters riding up around your hips and your legs spread just enough to show the wet spot on your sheer panties, your fingers dragging on the bit he wanted to see the most.

you knew exactly what you were doing, of course. even the way the sleeves pulled over your hands and made you look so tiny on his bed, even the plushies just in frame and the way the phone blocked your face. every little thing was a strategy to make him crazy. and that it did.

when jeno called you he wasn’t expecting to sound so fucking desperate, his voice gravelly and deep as he stepped into the stall, the sound of you picking up immediately hidden my his voice. 

“why would you send me that around the guys”

you giggled. you actually fucking giggled at the question. he would have been seeing red if there was any blood left in his brain to properly think with, but instead, he was painfully hard, already tugging at his belt.

“i thought you’d like it.” you murmur, and he can just hear the teasing lilt to your voice. “don’t i look pretty?”

his breath catches in his throat when he finally manages to jerk his pants down, his hand immediately slipping into his boxers. you giggle again when he gasps, not even knowing it’s from the feeling of his thumb brushing over the head of his cock. “you know how you look.”

“tell me anyway.”

he jerks his boxers off too, pulling his lip between his teeth in an attempt to quiet himself, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of knowing how much you affected him. “i’m going to fucking break you-”

“i’ve got you jerking off in a bathroom like a horny teen. i think we know who broke who.”

if he was in the room with you, you would have never said that. not ever, out of fear for your precious ability to walk the next few days. but with him trapped at work, you were totally in control of everything. 

“you’re going to regret that.” his voice is somehow deeper than before, his hand jerking desperately over his cock, but his voice somehow steadier than before. “you’re going to wish you never opened your mouth.”

“you say that, but here i am, and there you are. don’t say things you can’t back up, nono.” 

his head is tilted back, his hand moving faster as he attempts to think of any response to you. but his head was empty other than thoughts of how badly he wanted to choke you on his cock, making any sort of logical thinking completely useless.

the groan that leaves his lips when he cums is marred by a string of expletives and then followed by raspy breaths. on the other side of the phone, you had gone silent, your breath catching in your throat at just how pretty he sounds. 

he speaks, quietly, maybe a minute later, his voice sharp and harsher than you had heard it since the last time he... the last time you had bothered to act up.

“i’ll be home in 20 minutes.”

your voice is shaking when you respond, barely able to keep up your confident teasing façade. “you sound worked up about some-”

the beep rings out before you even finish talking.

and 15 minutes later, when the key turns in the door, you have half a thought of regret. and then you realize that you really don’t value your ability to walk as much as you thought you did.

[stormberry-12]

faceless // P1: the mask... take it off ~ charles leclerc x reader

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!driver!reader

includes/authors notes: language, lack of equal rights/ gender equality, readers an unknown figure in the races, fem!reader's gender assumed as male, use of "y/n".

Bold Italics are the past.

Normal Italics are thoughts or radio messages.

summary: "There is a new mysterious driver on the grid. Nobody knows who he is, the only thing we know is that he races for Red Bull with the number 66. Other drivers call him the faceless driver for none have ever seen his face or heard him speak. The faceless driver is a legend in the making and even giving Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen a run for their money…”

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

Come on y/n!  you told yourself. You could feel the car beneath you hum as you broke smoothly into the corner, speeding up once again on the straight. Repeating these movements over and over like clockwork, as you did laps around the track, maintaining your position in first.

Throttle.

Break.

Turn.

Repeat.

Driving in a car as nice as a Red Bull felt euphoric, the car was sleek and fast. You glided across the pavement with the perfect amount of traction, you could overtake in your sleep.

"Nice work 66, you've lapped the back of the grid. Tsunoda coming up on your right at P20." your race engineer informed.

Clicking on your voice changer and the radio you responded, "Roger, thanks Rick,"

You lapped multiple people, continuing to feel at ease behind the wheel, your race could not be going better and you were well on your way to pulling ahead of your competition in the championship standings.

But you see, that was kind of a stressor...

Your boyfriend Charles had no fucking clue you were racing, hell he didn't even know you had ever stepped foot near a car before you met him. When you got the call from Christian Horner that he wanted you on the team you were beyond ecstatic, but of course, being the first woman in Formula One, there were some hesitations.

You had never had a huge social media presence and the thought of interviews made you nervous. Not to mention the massive fan population of Formula One that you felt already stalked you enough after meeting Charles.

Voicing your concerns with your new team principal was not a problem, and to be honest it sounded like he agreed with everything you had to say. Making you feel confident about your choice, even if you had nerves going into this alone and keeping it from your boyfriend.

"I completely understand y/n," Christian said over the phone. "I think if we send you out into the media, the drivers and them will eat you alive, not saying you couldn't handle it but that is a lot of unnecessary pressure."

"Yes," you replied. "And I want to be taken seriously, I believe people not knowing I'm a woman might just make my life a whole lot easier."

"And this is why I picked you y/n, you're serious about your work and are smart about it. I think this year is going to work out just fine."

You and Christian whipped up the plan to create a mysterious persona. You would use a voice-altering device at all times, people called you 66, no interviews or media were ever allowed, and absolutely no one could know your real identity. Not even your teammate Max, who had clearly been fuming since Horner started to favor your superior driving skills on the track, without even having a name.

"Box, box," Rick quipped, pulling you out of your thoughts, that sounded about right. You were about to take the second pit of your two-stop strategy. Replacing your worn-out hards with fresh medium tires that would last you until the end of the race and warm up perfectly for fastest lap attempts.

You turned the last corner before the entrance to the pit wall came into view, slowing the car, you took a clean park just outside your garage. After a quick few bumps up and down your car was released again, rolling down the pit lane and back out into the race. That must have been the fastest pit stop of your life. You speed past a Ferarri to maintain your previous spot in first.

Holy shit, that was Charles.

You pushed the car to the max, pulling away little by little, trying to brush off the achy feeling you felt when you saw the bright red race car in your rearview mirror. But you didn't feel right and it wasn't the thought of Charles, not feeling as calm in the car as you usually did put you even more on edge. Something was off. Something was wrong.

It was taking more effort to drag the car around corners and every time you tried to break, something in your car hissed like a cat being held above water.

"Ri-ck-y, wha-at the h-ell is going on?" your masked voice shook over the radio from the tremor of your car.

"Um, looking at it right now 66,"

You knew it wasn't Rick's fault of course and he was always on top of things when it came to your needs during the race. You didn't need to panic, he would fix it.

Stay calm y/n.

Stay fucking calm.

"Oh no, once she starts quoting Micheal from The Office you know shits about to go down," your best friend Sarah cackled.

"STAY FUCKING CALM PEOPLE!" you shrieked, pulling smoking cookies out of the oven. You could hear Lando rolling around on the ground, laughing so hard he was crying.

"It's not on fire love, you're blowing out nothing..." Charles smirked, making Lando wheeze next to him. 

"Okay, don't panic 66"

"I'm not fucking panicking-"

"Oi... watch your language," You could practically hear Ricky's smirk in his voice, except he seemed uneasy.

"Ok, dad,"

"66, focus."

"Right sorry,"

"I'm going to need you to box again,"

"WHAT?"

"I'm. Going. To. Need. You. To. Box. Again."

"FOR WHAT?"

"Your left rear tire is loose, I'm sorry mate,"

You felt like you were going to scream, how the hell does that happen? The simple pit stop your crew has been doing all year, and they can't put the tire on tight.

"UHHHHH" you groaned.

"I know, I'm sorry, box this lap please,"

You drove the car as best you could around another corner, the pit lane was still about half the track away so you would have to stick it out. Charles however, was gaining on you from your slow lap times with the wonky tire. Oh boy, Charles was really gaining on you.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The car jerked to the left, and you struggled to maintain control of the wheel. The back of the car shook as you pushed it faster, you could not let Charles pass you by this much, even if you got a fresh set of tires you wouldn't have enough laps to regain pole position. The red Ferarri pulled into view beside you making your heart clench and pulse quicken.

"Leclerc trying to overtake on your right," Rick warned, "Be careful with that tire!"

Too fucking late Ricky.

The back of your car slipped, sending both you and Charles hurdling toward the barriers. You braced for impact, head pulsing, ears ringing. You tried to take a deep breath, letting oxygen into your lungs, instead, they were greeted with thick grey smoke. You could see flashes of red around you and heard people screaming outside the car, why were you still sitting there?

"Mate! Do you copy? Get the hell out of the car 66!" Rick yelled into your ear.

Both of the cars had burst into flames. You removed your steering wheel and neck guard, holding onto the halo above you in order to pull yourself out. Your boot had gotten stuck somewhere under the seat and no matter how hard you yanked on your leg, it would not budge. Your body felt weak, and muscles throughout your body shook with fear and fatigue.

The radio must have failed at some point because Rick had stopped yapping your ear off, leaving you to your own thoughts and tears that had started streaming down your face.

"Please don't advance towards the fire!" someone shouted. "Mr. Leclerc!"

Looking up you saw Charles. He had weaved himself through a part of the car that was not in flames, holding out a hand to help you. Taking his hand you both used all of your strength to pull and release yourself from the cockpit of the car. Your foot popped free and survival instinct took over, sending you both running out of the flames.

"Thank you," you mumbled, making sure the voice changer was not damaged in your helmet before speaking to him.

Charles just grunted, lifting his visor, and then his helmet from his head. He pulled off the white balaclava as well and stuffed it into the helmet. 

"What the fuck was that mate?" he asked, green eyes dark. You panicked and remained silent, to be honest, you didn't really know what you had just done. Pushing the car was one of the stupidest things you could have done with a loose tire. 

You slowly backed away, you needed to get out of here.

"Mate what-?" Charles let out an aggressive sigh as you turned away. "I saved your bloody life after you tried to end mine! The least you could do is talk it out-" he was yelling now and you just walked away. You knew you would hear all about this later anyway.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step into the medical car," a sharp-looking woman with glasses tapped her clipboard and then pointed to the car with her pen.

You just kept walking.

"Sir!"

"What a dick-" you heard Charles say in the distance, making guilt build up in your chest.

The tears continued to fall once more as you made your way to the Red Bull garage, you were glad the heavy helmet covered your face, and that you made the deal to never remove it. You could feel the stands of people staring at you, some cheered, some booed, other people stared with looks of fear or adoration. That crash was a mixture of emotions for everyone.

The stares continued as you passed the engineers to head to your driver's room. Guilt filled you when it came to the team as well, who would spend the rest of the week getting you a new car started for next weekend's race. When you closed the door to your room you could hear whispers through the walls, everyone was pissed.

"Christian, I want to know who I'm dedicating countless hours to mate," an engineer said. "He fucking fried the car, and now I'll be fixing it for the next 5 days, I don't even know who the guy is."

Christian, who was right outside your door said, "I know Matt, I'm sorry it's just not an option right now."

"But-"

"Thank you for understanding, if you'll excuse me."

The door opened in front of you and your team principal walked in, closing and locking it behind him before he turned to stare at you. You took the hint and removed the sweaty helmet from your head, fresh air hitting your sweat-soaked skin.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, recalling the crash clearly in your mind.

"And so am I," he said, face remaining calm, "Our race control should have been better than that and your tire should not be hanging off your car during the race."

You gave him a small grateful smile, "I lit the fucking car on fire."

He let out a hoarse chuckle, "That you did. Look, I'm going to let you go find Charles, keep your cover and shit. We can talk about this later alright, there are still some things I think we should discuss."

"Okay, thank you sir," you said and once he left you slipped back into your street clothes, sleek jeans, and a black shirt. Brushing your hair into a messy bun, and trying to touch up your makeup before exiting out the back alleyway towards the Ferrari garage. By this point the race had ended and the crowds were bustling giving you a perfect opportunity to b-line to where Charles and Lando were standing.

"You need to get a girlfriend, Lando," Charles spoke, hitting his friend playfully, "How bout that girl over there?"

Lando looked to who Charles was pointing at, "Eh, maybe,"

"C'mon mateee, she's pretty. Some might even say stunning, go talk to her!"

"This morning I saw a YouTube video with a puppy riding a motorcycle. So my bar for stunning is pretty high."

"Okay, but maybe there are different bars for different situations...?"

What the fuck were you listening to?

"The bar is consistent, the only time I set the bar low is for limbo. Always keep the bar raised no matter what."

"Uhm, okay, your funeral," Charles said before spotting you, his face lit up and Lando turned over his shoulder to see what Charles was looking at.

"Look who it is!" Lando cheered. "Your girlfriend, Charles. Maybe you should focus on your own love life and not mine..."

"Where were you?" Charles asked, ignoring Lando. Pulling you into his side and placing a kiss on your head.

"Bathroom," You replied curtly, "needed to compose myself."

"Were you crying?" Charles questioned, eyes looking concerned.

"No." you grumbled, wiping away access mascara from under your eyes.

"Well I wouldn't blame her mate, you gave everyone quite a scare with that crash," Lando shrugged.

"Oh, I'm sorry baby, I promise I'm alright," your boyfriend cooed, pulling you into his chest for a tight hug. You chuckled and relaxed into his scent. Lando was called away after a few minutes leaving you and Charles alone.

"Should we head back to the hotel?" he questioned.

"Yeah," you sighed, squeezing his hand as the two of you walked to his car. He opened the passenger door for you before heading around to his side. Turning the key and pulling out of the parking lot he blasted his favorite French rap music that you didn't understand. 

"Uhh, what a day," he sighed.

"That looked like a nasty crash," you replied, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Oh, yeah I'm fine," Charles said, "I hate the other guy,"

You gulped at his words and tried to keep your voice steady, "Yeah, we don't even know who he is though..."

"That's also a problem, like we get it, he's good. Hell, he's amazing. But now he's fucking up other people's races by being selfish, and then hiding behind his visor because he's too much of a coward to own up for the mistakes he and his team make-"

Holy shit. Is that how people saw you? A coward?

As Charles ranted on you felt your breathing quicken, images of the crash fluttered through your mind. What would happen if Charles found out about your secret? This was the best relationship that you had ever been in, you felt genuinely loved and cared for. The butterflies in your stomach never ceased when he was around, no matter how many times he complimented you. You hadn't fully said it to him but, shit, you were in love. 

Would he break up with you if he found out you had been lying?

Was it hot in here?

"Woah love, are you okay?" Charles asked pulling you from your thoughts. "You zoned out there for a second"

"Mhmm! I'm fine!" you forced a smile.

Charles's green eyes narrowed as he frowned, "You know you can tell me anything right?" his hand reached over the console to rub your thigh, reassuringly.

"Of course,"

He leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead before he continued to drive, he continued to talk about his race, and you hummed in agreement. You had back-to-back races so another one was just around the corner, you needed to pull yourself together. Growing less anxious as the night went on, a beautiful sunset captured your attention as the colors faded behind some hills, but the word coward still screamed in your mind that night as you drifted off to sleep.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

Current Tag List: @xxelin @summerslike11 @inlovewith-fictionalcharacters @trashcanrat @gramelda @magicman090909 @femalestarlord @captainbaeameric @cilliansfriend @heyheyheyggg @marvelobssesedperson

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 4

Secrets Exchanged

Part 1 | Part 5 | Table of Contents | Read this on A03

Characters: Ace x reader WordCount: 9k (buckle up! this is a long one!) CW: alcohol mention

You just had to get through this strategy meeting, and then you could avoid Portgas D. Ace for the rest of the day. It wouldn’t be so hard. You had done this a thousand times, as the lead strategist over all the divisions. Ace being wouldn’t make that much of a difference. 

If you thought about it, the second division strategist was actually a demotion. It was significantly less intense. Two years ago, your job had been to review strategy plans and find flaws in them. Now, you just had to present plans and get them picked apart by the other divisions. 

You thought about going to wait for Marco at the commander’s common room, but you didn’t want to risk seeing Ace yet. So you walked to the strategy meeting alone, with a few minutes to spare. 

Only a few commanders and your father were in the room, but you found Marco there with an empty seat next to him, so you sat down beside him. 

“You should really sit with Ace,” Marco urged quietly. You began to steam at his suggestion, so he quickly added more. “Strategists sit with their commanders on the other side of the table. And the commanders who didn’t have strategists present sit over here.”

You ignored him, shuffling through your papers to find the list of names you’d be presenting. You were so nervous for this meeting. You had done this hundreds of times with much higher stakes, why were you nervous now?

“Y/N,” your father called from the head of the table. You paused your work, looking up at him to acknowledge that you were being spoken to. “I’d like to talk to you privately after this meeting.”

There was no trace of anger in his voice, but you were still concerned over the private meeting. You couldn’t let that show though, you had to keep a cool exterior. If anyone picked up on your anxiety, they would question you and your abilities. You couldn’t afford that, not now.   

You nodded once to signify you heard him, but you still didn’t speak to anyone. You simply looked back down at your paper and continued to give one last look over your report until the meeting began. You saw people trickle in, with an occasional double glance at your placement next to Marco. 

Eventually everyone had arrived. Everyone except your commander. 

“Damn Ace,” your father bellowed. “That boy is always late.” 

“Must be with someone,” Blamenco mumbled. “He’s been busy recently.”

“There was a lot of noise coming from his room last night,” Thatch noted.

“Noise?” someone questioned, but you didn’t see who. 

You were looking at your papers, but you could feel a few eyes shift over to you. You could feel your skin start to bubble, and you took a breath to keep your cool. It didn’t matter if Ace was sleeping with someone else. He could do whatever he wanted to. It shouldn’t bother you what, or who, he did in his free time. But it did. 

“I can go get him,” Marco groaned, finally rising from his seat. 

“No,” Whitebeard said, rather firmly. “His strategist can go.”

You were so focused on appearing to look normal, it took you a few seconds of silence to realize that your father was talking to you. You glanced around the table, and found all sets of eyes on you. 

“Me?” you asked, rather stupidly. 

“You are his strategist, aren’t you?” Your father asked, looking at you. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m his babysitter,” you mumbled. You heard a few snickers from around the table, which brought you a bit of pride. 

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice was dangerously close to anger, and you could see a few of the newer commanders tense. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” you grumbled, rising from your seat and slinking out the door. 

Every step towards Portgas D. Ace’s room felt harder than the last. You found yourself hoping you’d meet him in the hallway, or he got his dates mixed up and would be running to the meeting. But that wasn’t the way Ace did things, which you knew from experience. 

You stood in front of his door, hesitant to knock. You didn’t want to know who was on the other side of this door. You didn’t want to see Ace after he had been with someone else. Or worse, see someone else with him. Your stomach twisted into a thousand knots just thinking about the possibilities. 

But you had to do it. Perhaps it would be better to just get it over with. So you knocked. 

There was no answer. 

You knocked again. “Ace!” you shouted, banging on the door. 

The door swung open, Ace’s freckled face inches from yours. He looked rough, like he hadn’t slept at all in the past 24 hours. You wondered if this was how he looked yesterday, when all the commanders came and grabbed him as you hid under the covers. 

“Y/N.” Ace’s breath was warm on your face, and you took a step back. “Just the lady I wanted to see! Can I show you something?”

“We have a meeting. A strategy meeting,” you said. “The one I worked really hard for? That one. Do you remember?”

His eyes grew wide at your words, and it was clear he had lost track of time. “Shit,” he said. “Shit. Shit. Shit! I’m so sorry.”

“We need to go.” You started to turn around to walk down the hall. “Now.”

“Wait!” He grabbed your wrist as you turned, and you almost burned him for touching you. Almost. 

“I want to show you something,” he begged. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”

“I don’t want to see who-” but he yanked you into his room before you could finish your sentence. 

His room was empty. Well, empty in a sense that there was nobody else inside his cabin. But it was filled with woven strands and half made hats, and new shelves had appeared on his walls since yesterday morning. Whatever he was doing last night, it wasn’t a person. 

“What is this?” you asked. 

“Shelves. Hats. A little thing.”

You hadn’t even noticed the decor strewn across his floor. You were too consumed with the hats and the shelving. It was a garland of wooden flowers all strung up on a piece of long leather cord. Each of the wooden flowers had been hand cut and painted, and they were all unique. It was beautiful, you had to admit. 

“Why?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. 

You scoffed in disbelief. “You can always sleep.”

“I couldn’t last night. I-” he hesitated, looking at you for a moment before his eyes darted away. “I just couldn’t.”

“We need to go, Ace. Tell me about your weird midnight projects later.”

“Wait! Okay let me show you just really quick. Please.”

“Ace,” you hissed. A piece of you was curious, but you knew everyone was counting the moments until you were back. 

“The hats I’m making for Little Oars, right? I made him one, but it's starting to get old, so I need to make a new one, you know?”

“Ace-”

“And the shelves are for the shells. They’re everywhere, I know. I need to take better care of my stuff and organize things better, so…shelves.” He held his hands out, showcasing the shelves he built. 

“And the decorative thing was just…I dunno. For fun. For you.”

“For me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“You don’t have a lot of stuff in your bunk.”

“I prefer it that way,” you said. 

“But now you can have this too,” he explained. 

You wanted to take it. You could tell he put a lot of effort into it. But your own preservation was key. 

“I don’t like flowers,” you lied. 

“You do,” Ace argued. “I see you smell them every time you pass the garden.”

Your heart raced. “Ace-”

“I know. Creepy. Whatever. Commanders are supposed to give a personalized gift to their strategist when they join. This is my gift.”

Your cheeks flushed with pink. You were about to decline again, but he picked up the garland and shoved it into your hands. 

“No returns,” he said. “If you try to return them, I’m going to hang them up in your bunkhouse myself.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled. You held them gingerly, not wanting to ruin his hard work. You looked over them, admiring all of the detail he had done. It was hard to believe he did this in one day. 

Ace watched you for a moment, and then gave a nervous laugh. “I think we should head out, or more people might come looking for us.”

“Shit!” you hissed. “The meeting!”

Both of you took off towards the command center. Luckily you had to pass by your bunkhouse, and you stopped in briefly to drop off your garland of flowers. You tucked them safely in your bedside drawer, to keep them away from lingering eyes and curious hands.

When you walked back into the command center with Ace, you saw that a few people had shifted around the table. Thatch had taken your seat next to Marco, leaving the only open seats next to one another. You scowled at Thatch, but you took your seat next to Ace without any argument. Your papers were at your new seat, at least that oversight hadn’t been missed. 

“Now that everyone is present,” Whitebeard said as soon as you and Ace took your seats. “Shall we begin with the strategy proposal?”

You nodded, passing out a copy of the division breakdowns and a rough outline of the plan as you began to explain. 

It went well. It barely lasted 20 minutes. There was no pushback from any commanders or the other strategists in the room. Everyone was in agreement that your strategy was airtight. It was clear that the commanders still trusted you completely, even though you had been away for two years. 

You ended the meeting with the promise to reevaluate the day before, when Namur got updated schematics, and the rest of the table agreed.

“Nice work,” Ace congratulated you, holding out his hand for a high five. “I’ve never had a meeting go that fast before.”

You grinned at his compliment, and gave him a high five in celebration.

“You slept practically the whole time,” you teased. 

“No! I was just resting my eyes!”

You giggled at his defensiveness as you gathered up your things. “Sure, whatever you say, commander.”

“I sense sarcasm,” he grumbled, which only made you laugh harder. You both stood to your feet and started to leave, when your father called out your name.  

“Right!” You stopped in your tracks, turning back around to face him. “Sorry, sorry. Coming!”

“Let’s go lover boy,” Marco mumbled to Ace, pulling him out the door. 

You hoped your cheeks weren’t red enough to give you away. Even though it was only your father left in the room, you didn’t want him knowing about whatever you and Ace had going on. Not that there was anything going on.

Your father stared at you for a long while, towering above you. You stared back, waiting for him to begin speaking. 

He chuckled to himself after a bit. “I see you're getting back into ship life again.”

You shrugged. “Some changes from being on land, but it’s been an easy transition.”

“How do you like being in the second division?”

He was watching you. Extremely close. Looking for any hint of a lie or nervous behavior from you. 

You chose to answer truthfully, crafting your answer with just the right language.  “Honestly? I haven’t don’t much with the division as a whole. But I’ve missed strategizing. It was kind of fun getting back into it.”

He squinted at you, aware of what you were doing. “And Ace?”

It felt like a careful game of chess. You couldn’t keep your face completely neutral; it would be obvious that you were hiding something. But you also couldn’t completely react to his words, or else it would show that something happened. 

You chose to scrunch your face in slight disapproval. “How honest do you want me to be?”

“Completely.”

“He seems like a good commander who can rally people when they need their spirits lifted. He cares about his family, that’s clear. But…”

You sighed, looking at your dad. “He’s pretty stupid. And he’s always falling asleep.”

Your dad bellowed out a fit of laughter at your comment, and you could feel the air lighten a bit. You had chosen to move the right piece in your chess game. 

“He is definitely a character, thats for sure,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes before he spoke more seriously. “But how do you feel about him?”

You gave him a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t act dumb. How do you personally feel about him as an individual?”

“Oh,” you said. You had to think quickly. Tell the truth, just not the whole truth. “He’s fine, I guess. I don’t know him very well.”

You saw a glint in your father’s eyes, and you knew that he had some kind of information which contradicted your statement. 

“I see,” he said, watching you closely. You resisted the urge to look away from him. If you did that, he would know for certain you were lying about something. 

“Are you happy with your position?” Your father asked you. 

You nodded. “I enjoy it.”

He hummed at your answer, thinking for a moment. “Do you prefer it to your old job?”

You had noticed that your old position hadn’t been filled. Marco seemed to have taken over as the lead strategist in a sense, but he wasn’t as thorough as you had once been. 

“It’s certainly less work,” you said, instead of an answer. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Are you offering me my old job back?” you countered skillfully. You hadn’t been the lead strategist for no reason. You could see what game he was playing. 

Your father sighed, refusing to play the game any further. “If you’d like it back, it’s yours.”

You wouldn’t belong to any division, just like before. Nobody would be in charge of you except your father. You’d be able to get away from Ace. It seemed like the perfect escape from all your troubles. 

And yet, you found yourself wanting to turn down the offer. You wanted to stay in division two. You had enjoyed the freedom you had gotten since your return. You had more time to enjoy yourself than before, even with a big mission coming up. 

“Can I think about it?”

Your father nodded. “I would be worried if you gave me an immediate answer. By sunrise tomorrow?”

“That works great. Thank you.”

“Do you have any questions for me?” he asked. 

“Your decision to wait for an appointment offer until after my first strategy proposal makes sense. If any commanders had concerns about favoritism, those are surely gone now. I do have one question, though.”

Your father raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. 

“What would you have done if I didn’t get appointed to second division strategist?”

Yoru father smirked and gave a light chuckle. “Listen, brat. You’re not the only one playing chess here. I wasn’t about to take away your promised position without giving you another one. Got it?”

An understanding passing between you both. “And you say you don’t play favorites.” You gave him a cheeky grin, the best way you knew how to genuinely say thank you. 

“Get out of my sight,” he groaned, but you could hear him laughing at your comment as you left. 

You skipped out of the room, happy with the knowledge you gained during your time with your father. He was always looking out for you, even if you didn’t feel like it. You had a big decision to make, and you needed to find Marco to talk about it all. He was always a good sounding board when you needed to make decisions. 

You were still skipping as you turned the corner, and ran straight into Portgas D. Ace. 

He grabbed your arm to steady you. “Hey there, smiley. What’s got you all excited?”

“Nothing,” you sang to him. Whitey still sat in the back of your mind, though her tears seemed more like a distant memory at this point. 

You gave him a boastful smile. “My father is offering me my old job back.”

“What?” his voice was sharp when he spoke, as if someone had stabbed him with a knife. 

His fingers dug into your arm. You weren’t expecting to see such devastation and panic in his eyes. It was so startling you took a step back, burning his fingers to make him let go of you. 

“As the lead strategist” you explained. “Just like before.”

“You can’t take that,” Ace’s voice was desperate. “You’re the second division strategist.”

“Well, yeah. But you can always get another one. You have plenty of great-”

“I don’t want another one,” he hissed. 

“I’ll still be looking over everything and offering up strategies, Ace.”

“It won’t be the same and you know that.” You got the sense that he was mad at you, though you weren’t entirely sure what you had done wrong. This was supposed to be good news.

“Why are you so angry with me?” you asked. “What were you expecting?”

“I was expecting you to stick to your word!” Ace answered, his voice rising with every syllable. 

You weren’t sure what facial expression you were wearing, but Ace seemed to realize his mistake in his tone and his words. 

“Sorry I reacted like that,” he apologized. “I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“Clearly.” You stepped to the side to continue walking down the hallway, but Ace blocked your path. 

“Did you tell him yes?” He asked. His widened eyes looked at you with a strange mixture of pain and hope. “Are you leaving the second division?”

You knew not to be the one to break eye contact with your opponent, but it was painful to continue to stare at him. So you did the one thing you had never done: you looked away first. 

“I told him I’d give him an answer tomorrow morning.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat, and his lonely eyes bored into your soul as he looked at you. “Is there anything I can do to make you stay?”

You wanted to collapse from the pain that blossomed in your heart. Portgas D. Ace was so easy to fall for. It made sense why everyone adored him, why everyone constantly spoke of him. He was someone who would make your heart grow three sizes, and then would drop it into the ocean the next day. 

“I just need to think about my options,” you admitted softly. 

“Got it.” His voice was full of sadness, and he stepped to the side to let you by. 

You didn’t want to walk past him. Every bone in your body told you to stay there. But you took one agonizing step after the other, and walked past him down the hallway. 

You wanted him to stop you. A part of you even wanted him to rush up to you and kiss your lips, like you had seen happen so many times during the plays in Wano. But he didn’t run to you, or call out your name. He didn’t even move. 

You had planned to go talk to Marco, but you weren’t interested in that now. You didn’t even want to have to make this decision anymore. You just wished someone else could make it for you. 

But yaybe someone could. Someone who wasn’t invested either way. Someone who would be able to help without judgment. 

You roamed the ship, searching for the sixteenth division commander, until you finally found him at the stern of the deck. He was surrounded by friends-ones you didn’t feel comfortable sharing this information with.  

“Izou, can I speak with you for a moment?” 

The man looked startled to see you addressing him, but he quickly regained his composure. 

“Of course,” he said smoothly, standing to his feet. “How private do we need to be?”

“More private than this,” you admitted as you both walked away from the group. “But less than a soundproof room.”

He smiled at your joke, probably one he often heard from your father as well. “If this is about yesterday morning-”

“It’s not!” you quickly said, your ears and cheeks tinting red at the mention of it. “I…need some advice.”

“Is this about your appointment to second division strategist?”

“Kind of…” You found an unoccupied portion of the deck and sat on the railing. “Pops offered me my old position back.”

“And you don’t know what to do now?”

“Right!” you exclaimed. The words came rushing out after that. “I really like being the second division strategist, and the workload is much easier to manage. Plus, I really like working with Ace-” Izou raised an eyebrow, but you rushed on before he had the chance to say anything. “-but it is kind of a demotion from where I was. And if i was lead strategist, nobody would be in charge of me, and I’d be right under Pops again. And I liked what I used to do. It was stressful, but I helped people and I was good at it.”

Izou hummed, looking out across the waves. “Can I ask you an insensitive question?”

You sighed. “Go ahead.”

“Do you only care about status?”

Your mouth dropped open at his question, but he stared at you waiting for an answer. 

“No.”

“Well,” Izou chuckled. “You could’ve fooled me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you hissed. You were regretting coming to him. 

“You seem much happier in the second division. You had nothing bad to say about it except for the status it put you at. If status is all you care about, then you should be the lead strategist.”

You frowned, trying to think of a rebuttal that didn’t give your feelings away. 

“It’s not just about status. There are other things at play.”

Izou raised an eyebrow at you. “You mean other people.”

“Have you always been this observant?” you grumbled, sulking at being read so easily. 

Izou only laughed and ruffled your hair. “Your secret is safe, kid. But you need to be honest with yourself in a decision like this.”

“We didn’t even sleep together.”

“I know,” Izou smiled. “I believe you.”

You were quiet for a long time, trying to work up the courage to ask Izou one last question.

“You’re observant with everyone on the ship, right?”

Izou sighed. “Just ask the question, kid.”

You stared out at the sea and took a deep breath. “Is he as bad as everyone says he is?”

“Ace?” Izou asked, and you nodded. He hummed, trying to think of the proper way to respond. “He used to be. But he’s calmed down in the past few months.”

You looked at Izou curiously. “What changed?”

Izou laughed. “You’ll have to find that out on your own. I’m not one for gossip. Only advice.”

Advice. Right. You had come here for advice on the strategist position. Ace was always distracting you, even when he wasn’t around. 

“The position. What would you do?”

Izou smirked. It was clear he had been waiting for you to ask that question. He pulled out a golden coin. 

“Heads, you move up to lead strategist. Tails, you stay at division strategist. You stick with whatever the coin tells you. Got it?”

“You’re going to let a coin decide?!” you yelled, but he already threw it up in the air. 

It fell into his hands, and he quickly flipped it onto his wrist, covering the result. Your gut twisted into a ball of nerves. 

Izou looked at you, but your eyes were fixated on his hand. “Show it,” you murmured. 

“Without thinking, answer one question for me.”

“Sure,” you said, still transfixed on what the result would be.

“What do you want it to be?”

“Division strategist,” you said softly. You hardly processed his question before you realized you already answered. 

Your eyes grew wide and you looked up at him in shock, but he was grinning back at you. He revealed the coin to show a shiny golden head. Lead Strategist. Your heart sank.

“You have your answer,” Izou said. “You should stay a division strategist.”

You gave him a confused look. That's not what the coin had chosen.

“The result of the coin doesn’t matter,” Izou explained. “What matters is the feeling you have when the coin is in the air. What matters is the side you hope for.”

He held out the coin for you, and you took it. You turned it over several times, but it was just an ordinary coin. You had seen thousand just like this, it wasn’t special.

“Keep it,” Izou said. “For when you need to make decisions.” He left you alone, Still staring at the coin. 

“Thanks,” you muttered, hearing his footseps recede. Could it really all be that easy? If you flipped the coin again, would you be disappointed with the same result?

You threw the coin in the air, and as it hung there, you still wished for the division strategist position. Even if it wasn’t the most logical choice, it was the one that would make you the happiest. That’s what you had to go off of now. 

Your stomach rumbled, and you realized you hadn’t eaten all day. With the meeting this morning, you had been too nervous to eat, and your mind had been so preoccupied since then, you almost missed lunch. There was only about 20 minutes left of lunch, so you went to the dining hall to find whatever scraps were left over. 

There wasn’t much, but you found enough to make a light meal. You prepared your plate, and found an empty table to sit at to eat your lunch. You had seen a few people you knew, but you weren’t up for chatting much at the moment, so you ate alone. 

After a few minutes, someone sat across from you. Blonde hair, and a tattoo across his chest. Marco. 

“You up for chatting?” he asked, looking up from his meal at you. He sounded tired.

“No,” you answered truthfully.

“Okay.”

That was all he said. The two of you ate together in silence, each in your own world while you mindlessly shoveled food into your mouth. 

It was moments like this when you appreciated Marco. He knew when you needed quiet, and you knew when he needed it. There was a comforting reassurance that you were both able to exist together in silence without there being any tension. 

You finished up your plate, and cleaned up your area. You were about to get up from the table when Marco finally spoke to you.  

“You okay?” Marco asked.

You nodded. “You?”

Marco sighed. “Long day.”

“Hard day in the clinic?” you asked. You hated small talk, but it was tolerable with Marco. 

Marco rolled his eyes. “Let's just say some guy cut off his hand.”

“His hand?!?” your voice carried through the dining hall, and a few people stopped to look at you. 

Marco shot you a look. “Try not to announce it to the whole ship next time.”

You giggled. “Sorry, sorry. Tell me more!”

“I don’t even know how he did it,” Marco groaned, covering his face. “Some accident in construction. I was able to reattach it, but it was exhausting.”

“Incredible,” you breathed out. 

“Miserable,” Marco replied. 

The door to the dining hall swung open, and you looked over to find Ace in the doorway. The coin in your pocket grew heavy. 

“I’m out,” you grumbled. 

You didn’t look back at Marco as you walked away from him. You were sure he was making some sort of face, but you weren’t interested in seeing it. 

You threw your dishes in the kitchen sink and headed out, trying your best to ignore Ace on your way. Now that you saw him, you realised you were still hurt by the way he had spoken to you this morning. 

“Y/N,” Ace called. He reached out for you, touching your arm just for a moment before he pulled away. “Can we talk?”

“No.” You kept walking. You had to get away from lingering eyes that were in the dining hall, especially Marco. 

He didn’t follow you. A part of you was a little disappointed, but you were mostly relieved. You didn’t want to talk, and you weren’t ready to forgive him yet. You had already made up your mind. He didn’t need to persuade you any further. And, though you would never admit it, the devious side of you wanted him to sweat a little bit longer. 

You walked into your father’s office, where he was having a meeting with many familiar members of the crew. You found Whitey in the crowd, and you smiled at her briefly before acknowledging your father. 

“Ah, Y/N,” Whitebeard’s voice boomed. “Back already?”

“I made a decision,” you said, walking over to stand beside him. 

“I see. Let’s go talk, then. Are you good here for a moment?”

A few of the members nodded, and you and your father went into his private office. 

“I’m going to stick with the second division for now,” you said as soon as the door was shut. 

Your father did his best to keep a neutral face, but you could see surprise flicker in his eyes. He hadn’t been expecting that answer. 

“I see,” he said, pondering what to say next. “May I ask what led to your decision?”

“Honestly,” you sighed. “I’m happier being in the second division. It’s less work, I like the people, and I still feel like I can provide assistance and feedback to other division strategists in my current position. I’d be happy to take on the strategist duties that Marco took when I left, but I would like to remain in the second division while doing them.”

Your father watched you carefully, and you did your best not to show your hand. You knew he was aware of something extra you were hiding, he just wasn’t sure enough to ask. 

“Let me talk to Marco and see if he’s willing to give up those duties, but I don’t see a problem in your proposition. Thank you for giving me such a swift answer.”

“Of course. If I may-”

Your father nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

You nodded to Whitey as you left, praying that she never discovered what you had just done. 

You ate dinner alone, and went to bed early. It had been a long and draining day, and you simply didn’t feel like being conscious any longer. 

The bad thing about a bunkhouse is whenever someone comes into the room, the door creaks and the lights flick on, and you were always stirred from the edge of sleep every time. 

After the third time, you huffed in frustration and rose from your bed. You needed a night time walk to reset your body and your brain. You opened the door to find your commander standing outside of it. 

His eyes widened when he saw you. “Great, I really look like a creep now, huh?”

“Ace.” Your mind blanked on any other words. You couldn’t think of what else to even say to him.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his voice soft. “If that’s okay?”

“Sure.” You were trying hard to not let him know he had surprised you, but you could feel your ears starting to fry your hair. 

He led you out onto the deck and up to the crows nest, and you followed him quietly the entire way. It had been later than you expected; the moon was high in the sky and only a few people remained on deck. The night air whispered against your skin and caused goosebumps to rise. You thought about turning up your internal temperature, but the cool air made you feel more alive.

You got up the ladder, and you found several blankets and pillows strewn about the small area. It looked rather cozy, especially for such a chilly night. The area was so small, it was almost impossible for you to sit down without touching Ace in some way. You took a seat across from him and wrapped a blanket around yourself, enjoying its soft touch. 

“Sorry I had to bring you up here,” Ace said, handing you a bottle of sake and opening his own. “I had first watch tonight. I tried to make it as comfortable as I could.”

You nodded, but still couldn’t bring yourself to speak. You weren’t sure what to tell him. Should you yell at him for being so rude to you this morning, or ease his worries by telling him you were staying? You opened the bottle and took a swig, trying to think about what to do.  

“I want you to stay as the second division strategist,” Ace whispered. He was avoiding your eyes. He was dangerously close to touching you, but he made himself as small as he could so you could have your own space. You almost leaned into him, desperate for his warmth, but you refrained. 

“So do whatever you need to,” he continued to say. “Yell at me. Curse me. Ask me whatever you want, and I promise to answer truthfully. Please. Do whatever you need to ease your mind.”

You almost told him you had already made a decision. You opened your mouth to say it, but then you thought better. Now was your opportunity to get answers. 

“Why did you make me the division strategist?”

“I already-” Ace stopped himself, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “I spent a year hearing all of these great things about you. And a few intimidating things. You intrigued me, and the moment I met you I knew I had to have you. On my team, I mean. I saw how calculated and effortless your movements were, and I knew the stories weren’t just stories.”

You hummed, still not satisfied with his answer. “So why are you trying to hold me back from helping everyone? That's what I would be doing as a lead strategist, isn’t it?”

Ace was silent for a minute, and you could see him trying to curate the right answer. 

You glared at him. “Honesty, Ace.”

He sighed in defeat, realizing he had been caught. He took a long drink before answering. 

“Because I’m selfish. And a little jealous. And Whitebeard entrusted you to me, so I would feel a bit like a failure if you left before we even went on one mission. I know you’ve only been here for a week or two, but it still would look bad to have you instantly transfer out of my division.”

You gave a dry chuckle. “Since when do you care about the way others see you?”

He smiled, and you could see sadness plainly across his face. He didn’t even try to hide it. “I’ve always cared. I just try not to show it.”

Your heart gave a painful ache at his words. You could relate to him in that sense. You always had to act like people’s snide comments about you being the captain’s daughter didn’t bother you. You knew you had gotten to your status by your own merits, but other people never seemed to see it that way. It always hurt, but you had to pretend you didn’t notice the sharpness of their words. 

You almost asked him more, or let him know you understood his pain. But you chose to move on, taking another drink from your bottle. “Why’d you join the crew? How’d your path cross with pops?”

Ace groaned at your question. “Anything but that question.”

“Nope,” you said stubbornly. His distress at the question intrigued you. “You said you’d answer any question.”

“I know.” he put his head into his hands to cover his face. “Just don’t hate me, okay?”

“No promises.”

He peeked up at you with a worried expression, and you laughed at him. He gave an uneasy smile, still unsure if you were being serious or not. 

“I had my own pirate crew, and I was making a name for myself on the Grand Line. So…I tried to kill him. Pops.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise at his words, and then you let out a fit of laughter. “You’re joking!” you said, gasping for air. “What made you think you could kill him?”

“I thought I was hot shit!” Ace said, trying to defend himself. “I thought if I killed him then everyone would take me seriously. I tried several times. Even after he brought me and my crew onboard.”

You were still howling with laughter, amused with the fact Ace thought he could ever do such a thing. You could feel your skin warm and glowing, your magma bubbling beneath the surface with your emotions. 

“I know,” Ace said, taking a drink of alcohol. “It’s so embarrassing looking back on it! He told me to join him, to be his son, and I tried to cut his head off! I obviously didn’t get very far.”

“God, Ace.” You were finally starting to calm down, wiping tears from your eyes. “You really are stupid.”

Ace laughed nervously. “In hindsight, it was pretty dumb. But I thought I was invincible.”

You giggled again, looking up at the sky. It still wasn’t an ideal night to stargaze, but the moon was starting to wane, which meant the perfect night was coming soon. 

You thought of the first night you laid with Ace on the deck and watched the stars, and the night he carried you back to his room. You thought of your father’s proposition, and how you had turned it down. And you thought of Whitey. What would she think, seeing you here like this. You took another long drink of alcohol. It burned going down, but you needed the courage. 

“Whitey,” you whispered. At some point yours and Ace’s legs had made contact with each other, and you felt him stiffen at her name. “What happened with you all?”

“Y/N, please.” Ace’s voice was pained. “Please not that.”

You both stayed quiet for a few minutes, staring at the sky. You knew it had nothing to do with your appointment or your position, but this might be the only time you would get it out of him. Still, it was quite cruel of you to put him in such a position. You were at a crossroads of whether or not to forget the question, when Ace spoke. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about my reputation on this ship,” Ace finally said, his voice barely a whisper. 

You nodded, still looking at the sky. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the freckled-face boy. You weren’t sure why. 

“Well it’s true. I slept around a lot. A few months ago, Whitey started giving me attention. And I gave it right back to her. The flirtation, the soft touches and little whispers, the looks when you think nobody is looking…it was fun for me. I enjoyed the chase more than the actual catch, if you know what I mean.”

You nodded again, though you didn’t really know what he meant. Your stomach churned with envy just hearing him talk about it. 

“She wanted something more. A real relationship. I just-I dunno. I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t want that. I became a pirate to be free and to do whatever I wanted. Whoever I wanted. I liked sleeping around with a bunch of people. All different cultures, backgrounds, shapes and sizes.”

“Ace. Get to the point,” you said sharply. You felt like you were going to be sick hearing him talk about all of this. 

“She wanted a relationship, I didn’t. We both thought we could change eachother. But it never happened. Eventually the game got boring with…no reward So I moved on.”

Ace took a deep breath, and you could tell he was trying to figure out how to word the next part of the story. 

“She was devastated. The whole thing really hurt her, that was obvious. Not to sound too cocky, but it turned out she wasn’t the only one who fell in love with me. I just never noticed the trail of broken hearts I was leaving. I guess I’m just too irresistible.” He gave a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “But it made me realize my actions were hurting people, so I took a step back and limited the flirting and sleeping around. I never meant to hurt anybody. I just wanted to have fun.”

You finally pulled your gaze from the sky and looked at him. He was staring at the ground, wearing a look of deep shame. 

“I know she’s one of your closest friends, so I don’t blame you for hating me now that you know. But that’s the truth, I swear. If you don’t want to work in the second division, I won’t blame you. Whitey left too after it all came out.”

You pressed your leg against his, trying to get him to look at you. But his eyes stayed glued to the ground. 

You nudged him again, ignoring the pit that was forming in your stomach. “I don’t hate you,” you said softly. “Thank you for being honest.”

“Yeah.” He sounded miserable. Like he didn’t believe your words at all. He was picking at his skin, trying to calm his nerves.

You knew you should let it go. You had caused him enough painful reflection tonight. But the question was burning as strong as alcohol in the back of your throat.

“Do you regret it?” you asked, unable to contain your curiosity.  

“No." His answer was immediate. "It was what I needed at the moment. And Whitey was a wake up call. I’m glad it happened to me, even if it hurt other people in the process.” He snorted a laugh that held no humor behind it. “That’s kind of shitty to say out loud.”

“Maybe,” you agreed. “But I know what you mean.”

“Thanks.” He still refused to look at you. 

“Hey.” You nudged his leg again, but he didn’t respond. 

“Hey!” You bumped against his arm this time, leaning in closer to him in the process. “Will you look at me?”

He didn’t for a while, but his eyes finally moved up and landed on your face. 

You gave him a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t be mad with what you were about to say. “I told pops I was staying in the second division.”

His brows knitted together in confusion. “Staying?”

You took a drink. “I like it better than my old job.” You gave him another playful nudge. “Better people.”

“You’re joking,” he scoffed, but his eyes widened, and they looked much more hopeful than they had a moment ago.

“I turned him down right after lunch,” you admitted, a soft blush appearing across your cheeks. 

Ace’s mouth feel open in shock. “Lunch? But then-”

“Ace!?” A booming voice called from the bottom of the mast. “Is it safe to come up?”

“Shift change already?” Ace mumbled, looking up at the moon. “I’ll be damned. Rakuyo! You can come up!”

You heard the seventh division commander climbing the ladder, and your heart raced at the thought of him finding you here. What would he think? Would the rumors with Ace start up again because of you? You weren’t sure those rumors ever really died out, but you didn’t want to fuel the fire more. 

Rakuyo’s head popped up between you and Ace, and it was clear that he was startled to see you there. A sly smirk grew across his face. 

“Oh, darling.” His voice was full of mischief. “Ace, seriously? Up here?”

“We were just talking,” you rushed to say.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rakuyo said, waving you off as he stepped onto the crow’s nest lookout. “That’s what they all say.”

You looked at Ace, who’s eye twitched slightly, but he said nothing in his own defense. 

“Whatever,” you grumbled. You chugged the rest of your sake quickly, desperate to get out of the conversation. “I’m going to bed.” You lowered yourself into the hole and climbed down the ladder. 

“Can you throw my pillows down?” Ace asked his fellow commander, lowering himself down after you.

Rakuyo laughed. “You know the rule dude. Whatever stays up here, stays until morning.”

“Dude,” Ace whined. “Thats what I sleep with.”

“Should’ve taken the all-night shift then.”

Ace groaned. “Seriously?”

“Mmmm, so comfy. And alcohol!? Ace, you shouldn’t have!” Rakuyo jested, and Ace gave up on his endeavor of getting his sheets back. 

You and Ace walked back to the bunkhouses quietly. The walk back gave you a lot of contemplation, and a lot of time to work up your courage. He only spoke again when you were at your door. 

“So you’re really staying?” Ace asked as your hand was on the doorknob. 

“Wait here,” you whispered, and you opened the door just enough to slip inside. 

You snuck into your room quietly and grabbed your comforter and pillows from your bed. You hesitated for a moment, and then reached into your bedside table and shuffled around, looking for the bottle of wine you had stashed in there. You finally found the glass bottle, and slipped out the door with the comforter, pillows, and wine. 

You handed off the wine and pillows to Ace, and got a better grip on the comforter before you looked up at him. 

“What are you doing?” Ace asked, looking at the things you had handed off to him. 

“You don’t have bedsheets,” you said simply, your cheeks warm. “So we’re using mine.”

“I can’t take your bedsheets,” Ace said, looking around dumbfoundedly. 

“Relax,” you hummed, starting to walk towards the commander's chambers. “I’ll sleep with Whitey. It’s not a big deal. But we’ll finish that wine first. I have more questions to ask you.”

Ace groaned, but followed you through the halls. “I thought we were done with honesty hour.”

“No way! I have so much more to learn about you, Portgas D. Ace,” you giggled his name. It felt so sweet on your lips. “You’ve piqued my interest.”

“I get to ask questions too, then,” Ace argued. 

You chuckled. “Maybe. We’ll see how generous I’m feeling.”

Ace scowled at your response. You stuck your tongue out at him, which made his mood lighten a bit.

"You're really staying?" Ace asked again, eager for you to finally answer him.

"Yes, Ace!" you said, smiling at him. He seemed to carry himself higher after you answered his question, and the tense air between you two finally cleared.

You danced down the hallway with a newly found lightness, your comforter still in your hands. You felt comfortably warm, and just a little tipsy, though you weren’t sure if that feeling was coming from the alcohol or from Ace being so close to you. The only thing you truly knew was that you were throwing caution to the wind, and hoping that you weren’t as stupid as your best friend.

After a short walk, you reached his room and quietly slipped inside. As he dropped the pillows onto the mattress, you found a place to sit on his bed and wrapped your comforter around you. Ace sat down across from you, opening the bottle of wine and taking a long drink before handing it to you. 

“So,” he started, wiping the wine from his upper lip. “What else do you want to know?”

You weren’t really sure what else to ask him, so you looked around his room for inspiration. The half-made hats were still strewn around, but you already knew the answer to that mystery. 

“The shells,” you said, looking around. “Why do you have so many?”

“They’re from every island we visit,” Ace said, watching you look around the room. “I make sure to grab one every place we see.”

“Why?”

Ace shrugged. “I dunno,” he admitted. “Something that nobody else can get. It’s mine and it’s free. Every island has shells.”

“Even winter islands?” you questioned. 

“I’ll settle for stones too.” He pointed at a pile of rocks on his shelf.

They all looked like normal rocks. Just smooth stones that had been worn down by the current of the ocean. He could’ve gotten them from anywhere. Even the shells were mostly common ones you could find on any beach. Someone could easily swap them or steal one and he’d never be the wiser. But they were obviously important to him. 

“I’m going to show them to my little brother when I see him again,” Ace explained. He was staring at the shells, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. “I’m going to tell him all the stories that come with those shells over a nice bottle of sake.”

You liked this side of Ace. He was kind and gentle and sincere. He had a little brother and he loved shells and he wanted an adventure worth telling. 

You picked up a shell on his bedside table. “What’s the story with this one?”

He looked over and saw the small conch shell in your hand. He smiled fondly, and you felt yourself relaxing.

“Narrow Arrow Island,” he said. His hand reached for the shell, and he turned it over in his hands. 

“Me and Thatch had this big mission, but we totally misread the map to find the town we were going to. We ended up walking 5 miles in the wrong direction. We only found out we were going the wrong way because some bandits tried to rob us and ended up telling us!”

You giggled at his story. “How do you mess up five miles in the wrong direction?”

“The island was narrow as an arrow! It wasn’t named that for no reason!” he said defensively. “And we had the map upside down!”

“You’re lying!” you squealed out, nudging him playfully. 

“I swear.” Ace crossed his heart with his index finger, which only made you laugh harder. Ace couldn’t help but join you in laughing at the outlandish story. Even if he knew it was true, he understood your skepticism.

“Okay, okay,” you said, finally calming down. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Ace asked, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“Ask me anything,” you said, puffing your chest out and taking a long swig of wine. “I can take it.”

Ace thought for a moment, running through his options. He had so many questions, but one had bothered him for a while. 

“Why’d you leave?”

“Pops told me I could have the second commander position if I was stronger,” you said smoothly. It was an answer you gave so frequently, you almost believed it yourself. 

But Ace squinted at you in suspicion. “There’s more though, isn’t there? I imagine you could’ve gotten stronger on the ship if that was the only reason.”

He was good at reading people, you had to admit. Or at least good at reading you. You sighed, taking another drink. You’d need it for this answer. But you owed Ace honesty and vulnerability, since that’s what he had given you all night. 

“My entire life I was always Whitebeard’s Daughter. Everyone looked at me like I didn’t earn my place; like I only got there because of who my father is. Ever since I could remember, wherever I go, his name follows me. Which is fine, most of the time. I love my dad, and I know he loves me. But those looks from others…the hatred, the envy, sometimes a mix of both. I just got sick of it. I needed to know who I could be without him towering over me.”

After you finished, you glanced nervously at Ace to see his reaction. His face surprised you; his mouth was agape in shock, and his eyes seemed to glisten with understanding. He cut his eyes away from you after a moment, deep in thought. 

“I know what you mean,” he mumbled. 

You laughed at his statement. “You know what I mean? And how’s that?”

He glanced over at you nervously, opening his mouth again to say something. He seemed to change his mind though, and reached for the bottle in your hands instead. 

You handed it over him, contemplating on if you should push the question or not. You got the sense that Ace truly did know what you were feeling, but if you tried to open that door, it wouldn’t budge.

“Tell me about your brother,” you offered instead. 

Ace’s eyes lit up. His entire body jumped to attention at your question. He looked like a little kid in the candy store, thrilled to have an opportunity to talk about something he truly loved. 

“Luffy,” he said. “That’s his name. He should be setting out to sea any time now, actually. We made a pact when we were seventeen we’d become pirates. His seventeenth birthday is in a few months, so I’m sure I’ll see him soon. You’ll have to meet him! He’s like nobody else you’ve ever met before, I swear.”

He went on and on, telling you about Luffy’s straw hat and their adventures in the jungle together. They were raised by mountain bandits, which was surprising to you since Ace had such proper manners. He talked about his brother until you both finished the bottle of wine, and you found yourself smiling along at every story. 

“I look forward to meeting him one day,” you said, a sleepy smile on your face. 

“Oh crap,” Ace groaned. “I talked way too much about him, huh?”

“No! I really enjoyed it all, truthfully.” you sighed, rising to your feet. “But I think I do need to go to bed now. It’s pretty late.”

“You can stay, if you want,” Ace offered. His already rosy cheeks turned into a deep shade of red.

You wanted to stay. You really did. It would be so easy to slip back into bed and cuddle up against him. You wanted nothing more than to fall asleep against his warm, bare chest. 

But you couldn’t. He was your commanding officer, and while one night in his bed could be explained away as a fluke, two nights would become a slippery slope. Plus, your absence in the bunkhouse wouldn’t go unnoticed. Whitey was painfully aware of your movements, and the last thing you needed was to hurt her even more. 

“Not tonight,” you said, attempting to give him a smile. “Whitey’s waiting for me.”

He flinched slightly at the name, and you felt a tinge of remorse bringing her up. 

You started walking towards the door, trying to think of something else to say. 

You turned, smiling at him. “Let’s do it again soon though, okay?”

He perked up at that, nodded in agreement. “I’d like that.”

You opened the door and slipped out in the hallway. “Goodnight, Ace,” you whispered. 

“Night.”

You silently shut his door and headed back to your own bunkhouse, unaware of the eyes that were watching you go. 

tags! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog (if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

[kurogane2512]

First off let me say god your works are absolutely amazing as always kuro! Signora def deserves more love. I wanted to ask if you could do a fic for Signora where reader just loves to bury their nose on her neck and inhale her scent after being away from each other for a long time and just being all fluffy and stuff (of course you're welcome to add some nsfw 👀). Also could i be the 🐯 anon? That's all keep up the amazing work!

This is so cute oh my god ugh to hold and bury my face in her😩 also yes certainly go ahead with that anon name pls its so suitable for Signora reminds me of the nickname she had for reader in my books🤭

18+ CONTENT

Game: Genshin Impact

Characters: La Signora x fem!reader

Type: Smut and Fluff (kissing, pampering, thigh riding)

The Fair Lady strutted inside her office, reading over documents and pondering strategies for her next mission when a knock was heard on the door. She nitted her brows as she had asked to not to be disturbed for the next few hours unless something was very urgent.

"Who is it?" she demanded, her voice ringing across the room.

"A-Apoligies, my lady. It's urgent...." one of the guards replied in a scared tone. Signora grew suspicious and exhaled a sigh.

"Come in and make it quick."

She turned towards her shelf to keep the documents in a file while the door opened to allow the person to walk in.

"Start speaking already." she ordered as she arranged the documents in the file, not turning around to look at the person.

"Ahem, I'm afraid you'll have to come with me somewhere, milady~"

Signora's eye widened at the familiar voice, she quickly turned around and was taken by surprise at who was standing in front of her.

"Y/n?! When did you—?"

You chuckled at her surprised state then closed the door behind you and walked closer to her. "Oh, did I really manage to surprise you with my early arrival, Rosa?~"

Signora blushed for a moment then smiled before pinching your cheek, "Why did you not tell me you'll come back earlier? I would have come to pick you up."

"Ow ow! Sorry, I just wanted to surprise you!"

She smiled and released your cheek then caressed your face, "Hmph~ Is that all you can do for a surprise?~"

You smirked, "Heh~ And here I thought you'd be pleased to see me earlier than expected. Guess I should have come later than intended~"

Signora chuckled before leaning close to your face, muttering a 'shut up' while ghosting your lips. You smiled back then connected your lips with hers, engaging in a sweet and gentle kiss. Her hands cupped your face while yours snaked around her waist and pulled her closer, your bodies pressed together as the kiss turned heated with your tongues dancing passionately.

"Mm.... Aahh.... Y/n~" Signora moaned in between the kiss, her angelic voice filling your ears making you more desperate for her. You released the kiss after a while, panting heavily while gazing at each other. She then wrapped her arms around your neck and tightly embraced you, caressing your head while you lovingly held her and relaxed.

"Did I disturb you? You sounded irritated earlier...."

"....No, it's okay. I was just focused on work and didn't want to be interrupted."

"T-Then, I'll come later—" you let go of her and stepped back, "I was too excited to meet you, I should have chosen a better time."

Signora hated having to send you away, she shook her head and quickly held your hand. "I said it's okay, I was due for a break anyways."

She determindedly gazed at you and you smiled in return, "Hmm.... not eager to send me away, milady?~"

Oh, how cheek of you she thought. She pulled you in and embraced you again, not willing to speak further and just wanting to hold you. You smiled to yourself and wrapped your arms around her again, snuggling into her neck and breathing in her scent.

"You smell so good, Rosa.... Isn't that my favorite perfume?"

"Mhm, it is. I just happened to wear it today, turned out to be a good decision now~"

You nodded and shifted closer, causing her to step back and lean against the shelf. She felt your lips against her skin and in no time, you started planting light kisses on her neck and exposed chest.

"Mm~ Y-Y/n.... my love~" Signora moaned and tilted her head back, giving you the chance to kiss further up and lap at her neck while massaging her breasts.

"Hah... sorry, I just can't hold back.... I missed you so much I—"

"Shh~ It's okay~" she put her finger on your lips and kissed your cheek, "Let's become comfortable, shall we?~"

You nodded with a blush then followed her as she made her over to the sofa and sat down then pulled you on her lap, making you straddle her. She proceeded to pull her dress down and reveal her breasts for you to touch then held your waist and positioned you on her thigh. You dived in and immediately took her breast in your mouth, licking and sucking her hardened nipples while kneading the other breast.

Signora softly moaned and pushed your head closer, letting you be enveloped in her soft bosom while your hips subconsciously rubbed on her thigh. She internally chuckled and pushed her leg up making it hit your clothed core, a muffled moan leaving your mouth sending vibrations to her as well. She cooed and held your hips to make you grind more, she knew how much you wanted this.

"M-My~ So desperate.... mhm.... how adorable you look, m-my love~"

You hissed and molded her breasts harder, pinching her nubs and lightly grazing your teeth around them before sucking more intensely. She guided your hips further and in no time you were desperately grinding her thigh to seek your release, your clit rubbed against her skin in just the right way and she could feel your wetness seep down. You held her tightly as you nuzzled into her neck and panted out, seeking more friction and rubbing faster as you felt your orgasm approach.

"Mmm.... Rosa... Aaah~ Cumming.... Please~"

"Aww~ I wanted you to hold on longer, love~"

"N-No... please... let me... ngh~"

"Hehe~ Alright, I'll be kind for now. Go ahead and cum for me, my darling~"

She bounced her leg up making you whimper and finally release with a breathless moan. She held you close as you came down from your orgasm then held your chin and tilted your face up to kiss you, "Well done, my love~"

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Learn to Love

Request: Can you like write something about jake and the reader being in an ‘arranged marriage’ and jake coming home after the ceremony and fucking his anger out on the reader consensual ofc 🛐🛐🤭

This one goes out to @yourmomdotcum69. Sorry it took so long, bae!! But it's finally here!! <3

Did I proofread this? No. So if you see mistakes, please don't 🙃

-----

Your heart is beating out of your chest. You can barely hear the Tsahik as she speaks of Eywa and this union and how it will be prosperous for all.

Your breathing is heavy, uneven, terrified.

You don't even dare glance at your betrothed, at the oloeyktan. He seems calm, seems to be pleased by this, but there's something in his eyes that tells you otherwise...

When the match had been made, you were sure you'd find a way to get out of the arrangement. You were convinced Toruk Macto would choose someone else. You thought the Tsahik would rethink her decision.

Turns out, you were in denial the whole time.

It's happening now. You and Jake are being sacredly united. Nothing will be able to pull you apart, and if you try to leave, you will bring shame to yourself and your family.

You have to stick with this. Have to learn to love him...or at least coexist with him peacefully.

As the ceremony slowly comes to a close, you think to yourself, I'll give him kids. Two, probably. That's all that duty requires from me. There's no reason to go beyond that...

The ceremony is consummated. The People cheer. They offer you compliments and hugs and bracelets and necklaces. You feel numb. You can barely breathe.

Jake Sully is attractive, of course, and you're not upset at the union...You're just...unsure. You're being asked to love and live with someone you barely know...That's what makes you uneasy.

There's a feast after, but for the life of you, you can't remember a single thing about what happens. You offer fake smiles, polite nods, quiet thanks. Your mate barely glances at you the whole time.

When it's over, when night falls, you know as much as he does that it's time to give oneself to each other.

Your legs are trembling, weak as the oloeyktan helps you up from your seat. It's the first time you two exchange so much as a glance. He smiles at you, but it's an empty, forced smile.

You're terrified, nervous, uneasy...So many emotions are running through you and you don't know which to pick.

He leads you to his tent—now your tent as well. He wordlessly leads you inside and closes the tent flaps after himself.

You stand there in your pretty beaded top and ornate necklaces, in your frivolous loincloth and complicated hairdo.

He turns to you with a look of rage in his eyes, but the rest of his body seems completely relaxed. He takes a deep breath, rubbing at his forehead. “Look,” he starts. “This isn't going to be easy. I know, and you know—”

“Oh, it-it's okay,” you quickly say, afraid of displeasing him in any way. “We'll work it out...”

Jake laughs bitterly, his eyes narrow as he looks at you. “There's nothing to work out. We have no choice. All we can do right now is—”

“Mate?”

He blinks at you. “I was going to say set some ground rules...”

You blush but try to brush it off. “Ground rules?”

“Yeah. For our...uh, relationship?”

You frown..“Why would we need rules? We're just a married couple. This isn't some complex battle strategy. It's just...a marriage.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Just a marriage?” he echoes, clearly annoyed. “I'm giving my fucking life to you for the rest of forever and you think it's just a marriage?”

You fold your ears back. “Yes, it is just a marriage. It's just duty,” you counter.

He stares at you, wordlessly, his ears folding back and his eyes narrowing. “Duty,” he says flatly. “I just gave my life to someone who thinks I'm nothing but duty.”

You pause for a moment. “Well...you are.”

Maybe you should've thought that through, huh. You only realize this after the words leave your mouth and you see the look on Jake's face.

He raises an eyebrow, obviously vexed. He steps closer to you. “I'm only duty to you?”

You fold your ears back, tail swinging uneasily, but you stand your ground. “Yes.”

Your brain takes too long to process everything that happens.

Jake's huge body closes the distance between both of you and he grabs you by the throat to hold you against him. “Fucking unbelievable,” he growls, inching his lips to yours. He doesn't give you the chance to protest before he's kissing you roughly, needy, messily as his tongue pushes between your lips to tangle with your tongue.

You gasp softly, sparks shooting over your skin, your breath knocked from your lungs. You kiss him back, your hands holding onto his arms as he pours his rage into your mouth.

While he keeps one enormous hand around your throat, he moves the other one to your waist, pulling you closer so you can feel his hard-on poking your lower stomach.

The feeling makes your ears perk up, tail swinging with anticipation. Your nails dig into his skin and he groans lowly.

The scent of your arousal quickly grows thick in the air and it has Jake's heart racing, his cock twitching at the idea of being inside of you.

He leads you to the ground, trapping you under his large body, one of his thighs sliding between yours to press against your wetting cunt.

You sigh softly at the sensation, opening your eyes to meet Jake's dark, predatory gaze. You're eager for what comes next, curious, almost begging him. Jake can see it in your eyes, widened and pupils dilated as you stare at him, expectant.

“You just got yourself into a fuckton of trouble, girl,” he says, voice low and husky. He leans his mouth towards your neck, kissing your skin, dragging his sharp canines over your pulse. “I'm gonna have t'fuck that idea outta ya, hm?”

You shudder as you feel his teeth on your skin. “What idea?” you question, eyes fluttering shut.

Jake bites down on your shoulder, making you whimper lowly. He whispers in your ear, “The idea that I'm only duty. I'm going to be much more than just duty, you hear me? I'm going to be your man, your mate, your fortress. Understand?” His thigh adds more pressure against your pussy and you moan softly.

“How can I love someone I don't know?”

Jake kisses you again, shutting you up, one of his hands undoing your pretty loincloth with too much ease. He bites your lower lip harshly, surely drawing blood, and you whine.

“You'll learn to love,” he promises. “You'll learn to love me, just like I'll learn to love you.” He gets on his knees to remove his loincloth, and then his huge hands grab you by your hips. He pulls you to him until your ass rests on the top of his thighs.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, the scent of your arousal thick. He runs the bulbous head of his cock between your folds, teasing your clit before moving to your entrance. While holding your gaze, he slides into you slowly.

His thick cock forces your gummy walls to stretch in order to accommodate his size. You dig your nails into the rug under you, your back arching slightly as he fills you to the brim. You gasp, moaning gently, you eyes wide as you stare at him.

Jake grunts as your cunt tightens around him. You're so warm, so wet. His cock twitches within you, making your eyes flutter shut.

He doesn't waste a second. He starts pounding you, his hips slamming into yours with each thrust, his fingers digging into your hips. “Goddamn,” he groans. “Oh, fuck. This pussy was made for me, hm? All for me to use.”

You whimper as each thrust sends sparks shooting up your womb, the tip bruising your cervix continously. You mewl, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you struggle to keep up with his pace.

“I'm gonna fuck this pretty pussy until your silly mind gets rid of the idea that I'm nothing but duty to you,” he promises, his ears folding back as he relishes in the sensation of your slick dripping down to his balls.

You can't reply. You only whimper, the pleasure searing your womb, your breaths uneven and ragged.

Jake stares down at you, watching your ornate beaded top open to reveal your bouncing breasts. Fuck, the way he has the urge to leave hickeys all over them, bite them, suck on your pretty nipples.

Some other time, he thinks to himself. Right now, he's enjoying this position too much.

“You're such a fuckin' brat,” he spits, hissing as wave after wave of pleasure washes over his body. “You get mated to the oloeyktan and you're ungrateful about it. That's so disrespectful, such fuckin' bad manners.” He bites his lower lip, groaning lowly. “I'm gonna have to teach you to behave, hm? Teach you to be my good little girl.”

You gasp, body shaking, your eyes struggling to stay on his. Between a few moans, you manage to stutter, “I'm not—I didn't mean to-to misbehave, sir. I'm-I'm sorry.”

He chuckles but it's a dark, rumbling sound that makes your pussy throb. “You're a quick learner, aren't you?” He smirks down at you as he fucks you faster, harder. “You're a star pupil so long as you've got cock in you, it seems. Well, in that case,” he holds onto your hips tighter, threatening to bruise your skin, “I'll make sure to put my cock in you as often as I can. See if I get to shape you into a pretty wife who behaves and doesn't complain about me, huh?”

You mewl as he increases his pace, gasping and trembling, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “J-Jake!” you whimper. “Jake—!”

He spanks your thigh. “It's 'sir' to you,” he says sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nod, moaning, your chest heaving up and down with each heavy breath. “Sir, I-I can't anymore! 's too much!” you whine, the pleasure within you turning into a coil in your womb, making your body feel like it's curling into itself.

Jake laughs, mean. “Oh, you can. I know you can. And you will,” he says, increasing his pace, his cock bruising your soft gummy walls, making stars dance behind your eyelids. “You're going to take as much as I give you. Without any complaints. I don't wanna hear you whinin' 'bout it, you hear me? If you do, I'll only punish you more. Do you understand me?”

You whimper. You feel like your entire body is on fire, your womb on the verge of bursting. Still, his voice is sharp and full of authority, and you know better than to argue. “Y-yes.”

He spanks your thigh again. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you gasp out, your back arching. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir.”

He chuckles darkly, watching you as you squirm, struggling to manage the pleasure. “Aw, what's wrong, girl?” he mocks, smirking. “You look like you're on the edge of something there.”

You mewl, the ecstasy within you building up, making you unable to think, let alone fucking talk. You can only whimper, desperately nodding your head, feeling the burning pleasure grow within you, coiling tightly.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck!” you cry out, your orgasm rushing to the surface, threatening to leave you dumb from its force. You're a whining, sweaty, writhing mess beneath Jake.

He watches you closely, feeling how near you are to your orgasm from how tight you grow around him. He grunts, his eyes focused on your face as one of his hands splays over your hip, his thumb reaching your clit and playing with the swollen, needy bud.

You moan loudly, eyes rolling into the back of your head, your body trembling as he touches your clit. You mewl and tremble, your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you in a blank state of bliss.

Your ears are ringing, your heart is racing, your breathing is heavy. And you can't really feel anything. As you slowly regain awareness, you realize that Jake's still fucking you, his cock still pounding into you with more vigor and need than before.

You whimper, the pleasure too much, and you can feel a second orgasm growing within you, too strong, too quick.

“N-no!” you stutter out. “No, I can't 'nymore! Please, sir,'s too much!”

Jake keeps going, saying, “Yes, you can. You just have to take it, hm? Take it like a good girl for me, yeah?”

You mewl, legs trembling, eyes fluttering shut. So you take it, mewling and gasping, feeling the pleasure build up within you.

Jake groans, his own orgasm near, and he's getting off on watching you struggle with managing the pleasure.

“I'm gonna fill you up, girl,” he says, his voice thick and husky. “I'm gonna come inside you and I'm gonna give you a baby, hm?”

You whimper, the idea sending shivers down your spine. “Fuck! Yes, sir, please!” you moan, trembling.

He smirks, chuckling lowly. “Yeah, you wanna be full with my baby? Want me to stuff you full, girl? Full of my cum and my baby? Want everyone to know you're mine?”

You mewl, trembling, nodding as you gasp. “Sir! Please, yes, please! Please, sir!”

He chuckles, feeling himself getting closer. “Then imma stuff you full, girl. You're gonna take every last drop, you hear me? Every single drop.”

He keeps pounding you, making you whimper and moan. You come for a second time, your pussy clenching around his cock, sending him over the edge. He groans softly, throwing his head back as he gasps. His orgasm crashes over him, his cock twitching as he comes inside of you. His warm load spills into you, sticky and thick, making you shudder.

“Fuck!” he gasps. “Goddamn, girl. Oh, this pussy's something I could get used to.”

He pulls out of you, making you gasp softly, and he watches his cum drip out of you for a moment before he lies on the ground beside you.

He kisses your forehead gently, wraps you in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Was I too rough, baby?”

You snuggle up against him, kissing his chest. “I'm okay,” you say, smiling gently.

He chuckles softly. “You did so well for me, you know that, right?” He kisses your shoulder. He's quiet for a moment before softly telling you, “I know this isn't ideal. I know you would've preferred to choose your mate, but...I hope I'm the kind of man you would've chosen. I hope I can make you happy and safe, and I promise to take care of you. And I...” He sighs softly. “I understand if you don't love me. I do. I won't hold it against you. All I ask is that you give me a chance. Let me show you that I can be the man you need...Please.”

You smile gently, cupping his face before kissing his lips tenderly. “I'll give you a chance, Jake. I promise. And I'm willing to love you. Love is always learned, and I'm sure you're someone who's easy to love.”

He grins, pressing his forehead against yours. “Thank you,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “Thank you so much.”

That's all he wants, all he needs. He's willing to move heaven and earth if it means he'll get you to love him. He's keen on making this marriage something more than duty. He's going to make it a home, a family, a fortress.

-----

@kamcrazy123 @yagirlheree @sweetllamaparadise @neytirishottie @crazy4books1

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Blog masterlist

[g4sstationdr-gs]

Blood Splattered Teardrops

ghostface!sam x reader. reader is afab. warnings; knife.

Chapter one

Sitting in the back of Sam’s car in the school parking lot before the bell rings is like a daily tradition. Sam is smoking a cigarette and you’re working on whatever missing assignment you have this time. You groan and drop the notebook down in frustration and Sam’s head turns to you. “What?” He asks as he inhales the smoke. His rings shine in the early morning light as his fingers hold the bud. “This makes no sense at all. It’s like Mr. Matter has some vendetta against me and wants me to fail.” You wine dramatically and put your face in your hands.

Sam chuckles and throws the cigarette on the ground then scoots closer to you. You hear the paper crumple slightly as he picks up your notebook. You peak your eyes through your fingers and you see his cocky grin as he looks at you. You can’t help but smile and bring your foot up to gently kick as his chest. “Stop it.” You say with the slight giggle. He grabs your ankle and pushes it away from him. “Stop what?” He says and tilts his head. “You’re teasing me!” You say and bring your other leg up. He grabs them both and tugs you towards him. You laugh loudly as your drug across the floor of the trunk. “I am not, stop being dramatic.” He smirks down at you.

You look up at him and you see the expression on his face change and he looks up. Josh walks up to the car and looks at you. “Hey, Y/N. Are you coming to the party Saturday night?” He says as he leans against the car. You wiggle your feet out of Sam’s grasp and push yourself up so you’re sitting again. “Oh- yeah! it’s a costume party, right? I have the perfect one.” You say with a cheerful smile.

Josh’s eyes look you up and down and he smirks slightly. Sam’s hands curl into fists and he glares at Josh. “Cool. I bet you’ll look real nice. C’mon, I’ll walk you to class.” He says and he reaches his hand out to help you up.

You take his hand and let him pull you up. You turn around and grab your stuff and smile at Sam. “Bye Sam!” You say and start to walk off, expecting Josh to follow you. Josh gives Sam a cocky smirk and Sam smiles back mockingly. Josh then starts to follow you. Sam watches and as soon as you’re out of sight he pushes himself up and slams the hood of the trunk down.

The next time he sees you it’s at lunch. You’re sitting and talking to your friends like you usually are and Sam sits against the tree next to your table. He picks up on the middle of your conversation. “I dunno. I really like horror movies. Sure, they’re stupid and unrealistic but they have some strategy to them. Plus, if a masked man broke into my house and tried to kill me I’d probably fall in love with him.”

You say the last sentence jokingly and you and your friend’s laugh. It’s like right then and there, Sam gets the best, but worst, idea of his life. He wants you to like him so bad, that’d he’d become another person just so you will.

That night, you’re home alone and preparing to watch a movie. You’re wearing some shorts and a long t-shirt. You walk into the kitchen put popcorn in the microwave, then start to put the timer on when you hear the landline ring. You figure it might be your parents so you can’t ignore it. You walk over to it and pick it up, holding it to your ear. “Hello?” You say and you’re met with silence for a moment before a voice speaks up. “Yeah, who is this?” The person says. You pick it up as a males voice, and he sounds sort of young.

You’re slightly confused because he dialed you, but it could’ve been an accident “Um… well who are you trying to reach?” You say and you lean against the wall. You pick at your nails and wait for the person to respond. “I don’t know.” He says, almost in a charming tone.

“It sounds like you have the wrong number. It’s okay, it happens. Have a nice night.” You say and hang up the phone. You hum and make your way back into the kitchen when you hear the phone ring again. You pause your movement and turn back towards the hallway. “What the hell?” You mumble to yourself and walk back to the phone.

“Hello?” You say in an impatient tone. You lean back up against the wall and look at the clock. “Hold on, I wanna talk to you.” You recognize the guys voice. You sigh softly. “Okay, about what?” You reply and you twirl the phone wire around your fingers.

He chuckles. “Well, you sound kind of hot. And i feel bad for disturbing you so I wanted to talk a little bit. What are you doing?” He asks and you scoff. “There’s nine hundred numbers you could call, and you choose me?” You ask and you roll your eyes. You’re starting to get angsty because you don’t want to talk to some random stranger for too long.

You push yourself off the wall and untangle the string “If you really want to know, I’m getting ready to watch a movie. Can I go do that or are you going to hold me up all night?” You say and you start to tap your foot. You hear him chuckle again and it sounds like he shuffles his position. “Why so hostile sweetheart? I’m just trying to be nice.” He says teasingly.

You sigh again and look back at the clock. “Sorry, it’s just late and this is sort of strange.” You look out the kitchen window. “What’s your name?” You ask and you watch as the wind blows the leaves outside. “Why don’t you tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.” He says.

You have to hold back a groan because he’s starting to frustrate you and this conversation is clearly going nowhere. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Sorry but I really want to get to my movie, try calling someone else.” You say and you hang up the phone. You huff and turn on your heel when the phone rings again. You turn back around quickly and grab the phone angrily.

Before you get the chance to say anything, his voice comes though the speaker. “Someone looks angry. those shorts look so good on you.” He says darkly. You feel your heart stop and your whole body tingle. “What? Is this some sort of sick joke? Who are you?” Your voice is shaky as you speak. “You really wanna know who I am? Why don’t I come inside?” He says and you whip your head around.

“What? Are you scared?” He says with a hint of a smirk behind his voice. “You think I’m gonna break in there and hurt you?” Your hands are shaky and your vision is blurry as you look around you quickly. “What if I’m already inside?” He whispers into the phone and you gasp as you hear a door slam open.

You scream and move out of the way as someone in a ghost mask and dark cloak lunges at you. You run into the kitchen to grab a knife when you realize they’re missing. You continue to look for anything around you when you hear his voice from behind you. “Looking for something?” He says holds up a knife of his own. Your eyes widen in fear and you feel like you’re frozen in place.

He takes a step towards you and you turn and run towards the front door. You try to open it but realize the chain lock is in place and you’ll never get it open in time. The man tries to grab you but you dodge and then kick his legs so he falls down. You start to run up the stairs when his hand wraps around your ankle and you’re pulled down to him. You wiggle out of his grasp and take the stairs two at a time. You make it to your room and you slam the door shut. You open push your dresser in front of the door so he can’t get in.

Your chest feels like it’s on fire from how hard you’re breathing. You grab your cellphone from the bed and start to dial Sam’s number. He’s the only person you can think of in the moment. You don’t know if you’re going to die or not. He’d be able to get to your house quickly, but maybe not quick enough. Your fingers shake as you type in his number but you keep making errors.

You scream again as the man slams against the door and your dresser start to move. He’s going to get inside. You grab your desk chair and hold it out, preparing to use it as he slams against the door one more time and the dresser crashes to the floor. He opens the door and he steps inside. Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest as he walks closer to you. He stops just a few feet from you and tilts his head.

You take deep breaths and it’s almost like you’re looking death in the eyes. “who are you?” you breathe out shakily and point the chair at him. He raises his hands in surrender. The knife he’s holding is illuminated by your bedside lap. He brings the tip of it to the leg of the chair and runs it across it. You trace the blade with your eyes and he take it as an opportunity to grab one of the other legs of the chair and pull it out of your hands.

You gasp as he grabs you and pulls you to him. He presses the dull part of the blade to your cheek you suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. He drags the knife down your face until it leaves it. You turn your head to look the other way and you feel the knife back on your face as he uses it to turn you towards him again.

You open your eyes and look at the eye holes of the mask. You reach your hand up to pull the mask off when he grabs your wrist in a tight grip. You hiss slightly and he loosens his grip ever so slightly. You try bring your other hand up to surprise him but he snatches that one too. He holds your arms above your head and pushes you against the wall.

He runs the knife down your body, starting from your neck and ending at your stomach. You’re surprised when it gives you butterflies. You blame it on the adrenaline. You expect this to be the part where he stabs you but he just drops the knife and kicks it away.

Your eyes follow as it slides under the bed. You bring your gaze back to him. “You’re not gonna hurt me?” you ask confused and fearfully. He shakes his head no and leans slightly closer to you. “No. i could though. is that what you want?” He says and this time it’s his fingers that run over your face. You shake your head.

He chuckles. “i won’t hurt you. yet” He says and you can hear the smirk his voice. He places one of his hands on your waist, still holding your hands above you. “you know, i wasn’t lying when i said these shorts looked good on you. who are you wearing them for anyways?” he runs his hand over your thigh. “you got a boyfriend?”

You shake your head again. “what? you too scared to talk now?” He says and shakes his head mockingly. “you had so much to say earlier. what changed?” His fingers are still trailing over your thigh.

“i hope you know i called someone. and he’ll be here any minute.“ you say. you’re lying. you never hit the call button. He knows you’re lying. “aw.. is that supposed to scare me, sweetheart?” He says and he presses himself into you. He brings his face to your ear. “i’m not scared. you’re the one that should be scared.” He whispers.

You shiver and close your eyes. “please just leave me alone.” You whisper back. He pulls his face away and stares at you. He drops your hands and backs away from you. He reaches to the floor and picks up the knife. Your eyes widen as you realize you might’ve made him mad.

He steps back to you and he places the on your bottom lip. “i’ll leave now. but i’ll never leave you alone.” He says and he drags knife over your lip before stuffing it in his pocket. “Have fun princess.” He whispers as he walks out of your room.

As soon as you don’t hear him anymore you lunge for your phone and call the cops. You’re still very shaky and can barely get what you need to out. You just spit out your address and say that someone broke in before you hang up and call Sam.

“c’mon Sam. please pick up.” you say anxiously. You keep your eyes on the door incase he comes back. You hear the call connect and Sam’s tired voice come through the line. “Yeah?” He says and it sounds like he just woke up.

“Sam! Please, i’m so scared. Someone broke in and he had a knife and he held it up to me but he didn’t hurt me but he said he’d be back and-“ you’re talking so quickly Sam can barely keep up.

“Hold on, slow down. What? someone broke in? are you okay?” You can hear shuffling from the other end of the line, like he’s getting up.

You nod, even though you know he can’t see you. “i’m fine. but i’m still a little shaken up.” You bring your knees up to your chest.

You hear as Sam curses. “i’ll be there soon. don’t move. Grab something to protect yourself, and wait for the cops to get there. i’m on my way.” He says and he hangs up. “preferably not a fucking chair.” he mumbles and he throws the mask into the bushes so he can grab it later.

You lean against the bed and wait for Sam and the police arrive, thinking about the masked man and wondering if he really will be back.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Kinktober Prompt ~ Outdoor Sex

Ghost x City Girl Reader

During a friendly game of Capture-the-Flag, you and Ghost take things to extreme, after a bet turns into something not so suitable for work...

Future NSFW 18+, Part One, Eventual Smut, Shameless Smut, Porn w/ little Porn, Hatemance, Enemies to Lovers, Mean Girl/Bratty Reader, Sarcastic Ghost, Teasing, Flirting, slight Slow Burn, Outdoor Sex, Banter, Toxic Relationships

Author's Note: This was random. Felt like writing some dirty smut for Ghost and I liked Spice as a character, so here's a spin-off! Split into two parts so I can make the next chapter juicy. Please enjoy the build-up for now ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ"

Also! If you want to read it in conjecture to the other parts, this is after Part Two but before Part Three :3

NGMLTS Masterlist

Masterlist

It was meant to be a team building exercise; a friendly game of competition between you and your comrades. Capture the flag. Only the rules were a bit altered this time around.

The game went as plainly explained by your captain: one team has to collect the flags and bring them back to their designated checkpoint, while the other team has to stop them. Three rounds will be given, with teams swapping positions each time. Winning team takes all, including the bragging rights.

And as if a competitive sport between the Task Force's deadliest members wasn't already enough, Price figured he'd spice things up by having the games happen at the dead of night as well. Many of your missions as of recent have been late night ops, so he felt that the extra training was needed.

This means night vision goggles, zero comms, stealth utilization, and strategy. When the exercise started and you were left out in the woods to begin, it was up to you and yours to be alert enough to get the job done. And if your team does win, you'll get first pick on the next mission.

You couldn't speak for everyone, though your sure the sentiment is shared; you've always loved a little competitiion. You just hid that side of you well, only letting it show when it was needed. But beating your peers at their own game was a rush like no other, and that feeling never left you even as you grew older. In fact it increased tenfold. It was a rush better than sex half the time.

Competition keeps a goal in mind to focus on, and damn did it feel good to win. And right now, there wasn't anyone you wanted to beat more than the stealth master himself, Simon Riley.

If one thing had been known about the man, it's that his expertise in stealth and sabotage weren't in need of questioning; he's practically a living legend after Roba. Some missions he's even been able to pull off alone, given his size and brutish combat tactics.

He's quite literally a ghost. That's just simple fact. A fact that might intimidate some, but only made you want to call him out on his bullshit. You honestly didn't believe all the hype, even after having gone on a few missions with him already. If anything, from what you've seen, the guy's just got funny luck.

If you want something done quietly, you send Simon Riley. If he needed to enter a room without you knowing, then you wouldn't hear him until you've felt the knife in your back. If he had to stay out of sight, then you won't see him in the shadows until he chooses to make himself known.

You aimed to prove that point tonight, knowing it would make the perfect thing to hold over him any time he wants to give you shit. How you've dethroned him of his ghostly status and made a mortal man out of him, now not only in the bedroom but in the field as well. It made you giddy just thinking about it.

Tonight you'd been given the chance to put your money where your mouth is. By a random luck of the draw, you've been placed on the offensive team with Gaz, making you the hunter, and Ghost your prey. A unique position to be in, and one you hadn't planned on squandering.

"I bet you $20 you won't get a single flag," you taunted.

Your comment had been enough to make the man snort. No doubt he'd been a man up for a bit of competition himself. And what better reward was there than having the privilege to say he humbled you as well? Now that's a rare occasion.

Ghost finished retying the laces to his boots before standing back up into his full length, looming over you like a big, playful shadow.

The hallway grows dark and empty around you, a familiar setting as of late. Since that night at the club, situations like this seemed to spring up more and more often. Ones which involved the man standing just close enough for you to smell the scent of him, and for him to catch that lustful glint you hid so well behind your eyes. Had you not had places to be, he'd fuck you right here and now, you're sure.

"Why don't we sweeten the pot some," he adds. "You still throw in that twenty, but the loser owes the winner a favor they can't say no to."

"Ooo, I like the sound of that!" You smile, already picturing all the most humiliating things you were going to make him do. You could make him fuck you in that one position dangling over your bedpost that you liked (and he kept complaining about "having to do"). Or you could even make him do all your work for the day as well. Oh the possibilities were endless; it had you practically jumping for joy.

Ghost chuckles at your preemptive celebratory dance, letting you go on for an unnecessary amount of time with your gloating and teasing. It'll only make his victory all the more sweeter.

"Figured you might like tha'," he says. You can practically feel the man smirking underneath his balaclava. He extends a hand out to you, giving you a chance to shake it. "Is that a deal then, Spice?"

You take his hand and shake on it.

"You're on, Manchester."

As you shake hands, Ghost keeps his grip over you for a moment, holding you in place a little longer so you could hear him when he taunted you. "We'll see how good you are when we get out there, won't we?"

"I'll try and go easy on you," you purr.

"I wouldn't want that. Too boring," Ghost teases. "It's much better when I have to work for it."

"Spoken like a true dog."

You both would have continued going back and forth, had Price not entered the hall to retrieve you both.

"OK, wrap it up lovebirds," he teases, earning a respective groan from you both. "We're heading out to the course now, so no more dilly-dallying."

"Roger that, sir," Ghost says. He watches for Price, waiting for him to leave before he's left you with a final parting phrase himself.

"May the best soldier win."

(ﾉ･_-)☆ Part Two Coming Soon...

Author's Note: I've included the previous taglist just in case you guys also wanted to read this spin-off (I know it's been over a month (^^'). I can remove you from the second part if you're not interested though!

Part Two will be longer and will involve the actually competition before things get spicy. I haven't decided who's gonna win the game yet either so it'll be a surprise for all of us. But I'm planning on the smut to be worth the two part split. Stay Tuned ~

Taglist: @babygirl-riley, @homicidal-slvt, @deadbranch, @argella1300, @poohkie90 , @glitterypirateduck , @sarraa-26 , @quincessimus , @crazymela, @13thprogenitor , @joce2fine, @sapszilla , @dmitriene, @justherebecauseafarisucks, @zevrajalexxandra, @corvusmorte

[mrvlbimbo]

Hi!! I love eddiexbimbo!reader they have my whole heart!

how do you think eddie would react if someone said something about his gfs outfit and made her upset because i think she obviously takes pride in her outfits and style!!

- 🍓

Frrr like I can totally imagine she’s at one of his concerts and some pick me girl clocks her as a groupie and tries to give her shit about it.

The girl is like “is that really your strategy to get male attention?” And she’s obviously talking about her less than conservative outfit.

She’s used to getting called a poser but it’s usually by guys so it catches her a little off guard and she just stares blankly.

“Dressing like a whore? Does that usually work for you?”

“I uh- I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Why are you-“

“Most guys don’t want to be with a girl who shows everything off like that, I’m just saying.”

She just kinda stands there and blinks a few times, confused and trying not to cry.

Then Eddie starts to walk over and the girl rolls her eyes “well looks like you got his attention. I guess it does work.”

Unbeknownst to both of them Eddie had been listening in on the conversation and he had a few choice words. “You don’t have to wear anything to get my attention, babydoll.”

Now this girl is like open mouth gaping at them bc she knows she made a bigggg mistake.

“Speaking of wearing nothing, why aren’t you waiting backstage naked? You know I need my girl after a long show.” She giggled at that, leaning into his side and hiding her face in his chest.

“I wanted to see you play.”

“Hope you liked it. Do you think you could grab me a drink, sweetheart?” He ushers her off with a quick kiss, turning his attention to the other girl who was still staring at him.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” he stated plainly, staring the girl down with a cold glare.

“I didn’t mean-“

“Oh believe me. I know all about your type. It’s not her fault you’re insecure. Get a fucking hobby and leave my girl alone, ya hear?”

She gulped and nodded. He turned on his heel and practically stomped away, finding his girlfriend in the crowd and wrapping her in his arms.

He could see she was upset from the moment that girl started talking to her and he felt terrible for not stepping in sooner. “C’mon babe let’s get home.”

He takes her hand and leads her out of the club and to the car. She’s quiet, clearly thinking about something and it’s bothering her.

“You look really cute tonight. You always look cute. But I really like this skirt in particular,” he compliments, instantly cheering her up.

But only a moment later the dark look is back on her face, doubt seeping into her features. “You don’t think it’s too slutty?”

“Babe. I love it when you dress all slutty for me. As long as you’re just my slut, you can be as big of a slut as you want.” She giggles, leaning into his side as he drives them home.

Eddie Munson masterlist

[kaivenom]

My favourite book came to life?

Summary: you went with your brother's to solve a case but when you get there you start to realize similarities with the murders and witnesses with your favourite book.

Pairing: Gabriel x Winchester!reader

Warnings: none, murder scenes? but not explicit written

Masterlist

Finally the ride ended, you loved your brothers but being on a car with them for eight hours was suffocating sometimes. You closed your favourite book, the ride let you read it once again.

You checked in on the motel and create your covers, this time you were a FBI rookie again, you are always the rookie because you are the younger.

You three spent all the morning asking witnesses and seeing the murder scenarios. Something about the settings was strange, more strange than a creature killing people , this procedure sounds familiar to you somehow.

---------------------------------------

Two days passed since you got on the town and two new murders occured. Officially the assasin it's someonw who read your favourite book.

"I tell you guys, maybe it's a normal serial killer who it's a nerd for this book."

"I think we should be here one more day to check the theory."

That afternoon you visited the new witness, she opened the door dressed like a character from the book and refused to be called by her real name.

"Officially it's a monster, she is completely brain-washed."

"How can we talk to her? Use your book knowledge."

After one hour you convinced her to speak to you about it, you told her you were the inspector from the book and she started to open up.

You said goodbye to the woman and left the house, before getting into the impala, your Dean picked some candy wrapping from the floor.

"Son of a bitch."

"It's the trickster."

"Who?" you repplied confused.

"It's someone we dealed with twice, he is a total pain in the ass," by his faced you could see that he is, "he can alter the reality and change his appareance, all of this it's his game."

"Maybe the only way to get out it's follow it, back there i was the inspectorfrom the book, and this morning the witnesses weren't brain washed, his game its escalating, we need to adapt."

"And for what porpuse?"

"Reveal the mistery and capture the assain." you said quoting the protagonist of the novel."

------------------

Your strategy worked, you advanced a lot on the case, you almost got him. It was raining outside but you needed to clear your mind, just like the inspector you think, so you got outside and leaning against the motel wall under a shelter from the rain.

You noticed someone with a coat and a black umbrella, just like the final witness of the book, the one who gives the final hint to get the killer.

He got to your side and hand you a letter, you couldn't recognize his face from the town but that doesn't matter. You run to your brothers to give them the information. The chart talked about the police officer and his name, just like the book.

You three went fast to the police man's house to get him in hopes that the game ends and find the trickster. The man was in fact in his house and you arrested him because he was human but no trace of the supernatural one.

"So, we were wrong?" Dean was starting to get frustated.

"No, the trickster it's on town, how else can the victims have that personalities..." while they continue to argue you realized somethin.

"Shut up, i think the letter it's an anagram."

Half and hour and you were going to the location on the chart, a storage outside the village. When you entered you found the man who gave you letter.

"It was you, you killed those people," you are not able to hide the rage of having been fooled by that man, creature.

"I didn't kill them, the officer killed them and i didn't care but then i read this book," he showed to you like it was a comercial, "and thought about taking the opportunity to try some new ideas."

"Disgusting."

"I made it obvious for your brothers to come but i didn't thought about you gorgeous," he started to get close to you, "how are you related to them?"

"Hey, relax with our sister, mate."

"But at first they where just settings, later they started to be characters, why?" you asked, trying to ignore your brothers's attack of protectivity.

"Because i saw you and i was intrigued. You read the book and you found the similiarities but you needed a little hint, i supposed you would love a litte roleplay."

"I like it, not the killing humans part but the yes."

"Are you guys really flirting at this moment?"

"Perhaps we can meet again some other time."

"If there are no murders yet."

"I will have that on mind." he smiled playfully and blew you a kiss from the air before snapping his fingers and dissapearing.

"Son of a bitch, he escaped again, if you weren't flirting with him..."Dean almost screamed at your ear.

"Sorry okay? i didn't know he can do that, you should thell me more about him the next time."

"Oh no, we are not going to talk about him, we don't want you to date him, seeing how you two were right there."

Sam only laughed a little behind you and you three made your way to the impala. When you sat on the backseat and oppened your book, there was a paper with some numbers, a phone number. Smart and pretty Trickster.

[illuminatedquill]

All Mine

A Sabine Wren & Ezra Bridger Story

Story Summary: A mission for the Ghost crew takes an unexpected turn when Ezra Bridger reunites with a childhood crush, Shana Tavorri. Sabine Wren, his close friend and partner, must deal with newfound feelings of jealousy - and possibly more - over their relationship.

For Sabezra Day 2024, @sabezraweek

Prompt: Confessing

Bright Jewel System, Mid-Rim Territories

"Look lively," called Hera from the Ghost's cockpit. "Just picked up the Phantom II signal."

Sabine was sitting with Ezra in the Ghost's communal area, playing a game of dejarik. At Hera's call, Ezra sighed and turned the game off. "Well," he said regretfully, "looks like duty calls, Sabine."

She smirked at him and replied, "Lucky for you that it's calling. I was about to bulldoze all over your pathetic defense there at the end." Sabine knew that she had him on the ropes at the game's end. Much as she respected her friend's prowess in battle, Ezra never was much of a tactician.

But, then again, his powers as Jedi certainly did give him options that weren't available to an average combatant. His strategies tended to fall outside the usual box of combat thinking, as Captain Rex - a veteran of the Clone Wars and no stranger to Jedi tactics - put it mildly one time.

It's probably why we work so well together as a team, Sabine reflected. She was one of the only people who could keep up with whatever crazy plan Ezra developed on the fly.

Ezra scowled at her. "My defense was solid, thank you. I was actually about to achieve victory. You're the one who is lucky."

That elicited a laugh from her. "Whatever makes you feel better, goober."

He opened his mouth to further argue the point but was interrupted as Hera emerged from the cockpit followed closely by Chopper. Sighing at the sight of them bickering, she planted both hands on her hips, her expression exasperated.

"Come on, you two," she said. "Let's be good hosts and greet the guest."

Ezra threw Sabine a 'we'll settle this later' look and followed Hera towards the Ghost's stern where the Phantom II had docked. Sabine replied by cheerfully sticking her tongue out at him, as she fell in step behind.

This 'guest', as Hera put it, was a Rebel spy part of the Fulcrum agent network. Three days ago, the Ghost crew had received a transmission from an unexpected source: Princess Leia Organa, the daughter to Senator Bail Organa. She had asked them to rendezvous in the Bright Jewel System where this spy had requested backup to make a trade with an Imperial informant for a data disk containing crucial information to the Rebellion on the nearby planet of Ord Mantell.

Being familiar with the Ghost crew and their capabilities, Princess Leia had requested them specifically for this mission. Once they arrived in system, Kanan and Zeb had then piloted the Phantom II to secret coordinates in deep space to transport the Rebel spy onto the Ghost from an undisclosed location.

As they approached the Phantom II docking bay, Zeb was the first one to disembark, the hatch hissing open to make way for the Ghost crew member. The big Lasat stretched as he emerged, wincing at the crackling noise his joints made. He greeted everyone and, upon seeing Sabine and Ezra, asked with a big grin, "Who won the dejarik game?"

"Me," said Sabine at the same time as Ezra. They turned to each other with bemused looks as Zeb guffawed at their expressions.

"I'll take that to mean that Sabine was about to win it then," Zeb chuckled.

Ezra pouted. Sabine grinned but gave her partner an affectionate pat on the back.

Hera sighed again. "Kids, please behave," she said.

Kanan's voice drifted out from the open hatch, speaking softly to someone. "Watch your step here," he advised, his hand outstretched to the guest.

The Rebel spy stepped through. She was young, around Sabine's age. Lustrous black hair that fell slightly past her shoulders and a beautiful, statuesque face that belonged in holo-dramas. Her eyes were a light gray that shone with a cool intelligence, taking in the Ghost crew with a swift look. The white combat suit she wore was Rebellion standard uniform but, somehow, looked perfectly tailored to her slender body. The holster on her belt had a mean looking blaster tucked inside and judging from the marks on the weapon, it had seen use plenty of times.

Beside her, Sabine heard Ezra take a deep breath in surprise. Frowning, she looked to him - and noted the look of dumbstruck recognition flashing in his piercing blue eyes.

Before she could ask him what was up, Kanan introduced the spy to the crew. "Everyone, this is the Fulcrum agent we've been assigned to escort. Her name is Shana Tavorri."

She nodded in greeting. "Hello, everyone. Pleased to meet you all. I'm grateful for the assistance in this mission. Princess Leia has given you the highest of recommendations."

Shana smiled as her gaze fell upon Ezra. "Especially you, Ezra Bridger."

Sabine narrowed her eyes at Shana. There was an intimate familiarity with how she said Ezra's name . . . and, for some reason, it bothered her.

Ezra took a cautious step forward. "It really is you," he said in amazement. "I can't believe it."

Sabine crossed her arms and leaned against the bulkhead. There was an odd, pinched feeling emanating somewhere inside her chest. Grimacing, she watched her friend practically float towards the new arrival.

Shana's smile widened into an easy-going grin. "Been a while, Ezra. You've certainly grown up from the little street thief I remember back on Lothal."

"You know Ezra?" asked Kanan in surprise.

Shana nodded. "We go way back. Our families were close, and we were childhood friends . . ." Her expression turned sad. "That was before the Empire took over. Ezra - did you ever find out about your parents?"

Ezra went still, a pained expression briefly passing over his face before smoothing into a neutral look. "They died some time ago," he said.

Shana's face fell; she reached out and gripped his hand in sympathy. "Oh, Ezra. I'm so sorry. I was always hoping that they met a better fate than my own family."

Ezra looked down at his feet. "No such luck, I'm afraid," he said. "It's okay. They died helping people."

"It's not okay, Ezra. It'll never be okay. Look - come here," she said and suddenly pulled him into a deep hug. Ezra's face went red in surprise, and he glanced at Sabine with an odd look - like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

She just frowned at him and felt another uncomfortable twinge in her chest. Sabine rubbed at the spot, wondering why she felt this way looking at Ezra and his old friend embracing - and became aware of Hera, looking directly at her, with an amused look on her face.

I don't like this, Sabine thought. I've got a bad feeling about this.

She coughed loudly, interrupting the tender moment between Ezra and Shana. Stepping forward, she stuck out a hand at the Rebel spy. "I'm Sabine, by the way," she said. "Sabine Wren. Ezra's partner."

Shana released a flustered Ezra from the hug and turned towards Sabine. The Fulcrum agent's gray eyes glinted with amusement as she took in Sabine's blunt manner and colorful appearance.

Shana replied coolly, "I've heard all about you, Sabine Wren. You have quite the reputation." The spy took Sabine's hand and gave it a tight, yet amiable squeeze in acknowledgement. Her grip was firm and steady, Sabine noted; her hands, while looking delicate, were calloused. It meant that Shana was not unaccustomed to hard work, despite her model appearance and elegant demeanor.

Normally, that would have impressed Sabine. But, for some unknown reason, it made her dislike the spy even more.

"Good or bad?" asked Sabine as they shook hands.

Shana gave a polite smile as she responded. "Depends on who you ask."

Hera clapped her hands together. "Right. Well, seems like our guest and Ezra have some catching up to do. Ezra, you'll have the honor of giving Shana the tour. Kanan and Zeb, you can go rest. I'll punch in the coordinates to Ord Mantell and get us on the way. And Sabine . . ."

"Yes, Hera?" She was staring at Shana who had already sidled away to speak with Ezra.

"Go freshen up your room. Shana will bunk with you for the night."

Sabine felt her stomach drop out from her abdomen. "Seriously?" she asked. "She's in my room?"

Hera arched an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Sabine gritted her teeth. "No," she replied. Shana had slipped her arm through Ezra's and was walking with him towards the Ghost's communal area. Ezra said something to her, and the young woman let out a peal of laughter that rang through the corridor.

Sabine felt her heart twist viciously as she watched Ezra give a shy smile at Shana.

"No problem at all," she said and went to clean her room, doing her best to ignore the turbulent feelings buzzing inside that were saying something else entirely.

Hyperspace, Mid-Rim Territories

It had been a long day, despite the relative lack of activities, and Sabine was ready for bed. Ezra had given Shana an in-depth tour of the Ghost at her insistence; at the end of it, Sabine had the amusing thought that their guest now possibly knew the Ghost's interior better than any of them. Once finished, Ezra and Shana had lounged in the Ghost's communal area, chatting about various things that had happened in their lives while they had been apart.

Sabine had spent that time lurking nearby, working at a nearby computer station - or, at least, pretending to be working. She was trying to get a better read on this mysterious Shana Tavorri; a Fulcrum agent, after all, was a notable position within the Rebellion, especially for someone so young. There were many of them, she knew, scattered throughout the galaxy performing various missions of critical importance to the Rebellion. The only other one she knew personally was a Jedi Knight, much like Kanan and Ezra, named Ahsoka Tano.

Shana was clearly no Jedi, but she definitely had exhibited skills that the Rebellion deemed worthy enough to put her in the same position that a Jedi had previously held. That made her dangerous.

But Shana's conversation with Ezra failed to disclose any of those potential skills, despite Sabine's best efforts to listen in. She was, however, embarrassed by her response whenever she did hear her name mentioned by Ezra, which came up more than a handful of times in their discussion; a warm, fuzzy feeling that left her feeling pleased.

After a while, both Ezra and Shana wrapped up their chat with a hug (Sabine felt her jaw clench so hard that she could hear something creaking) and retired to their respective bedrooms for the night. Sabine finished her work at the computer station half an hour later and followed suit.

Checking a nearby chronometer, she registered the lateness of the hour and stepped inside her room, deciding to spend some time maintaining her weapons before sleeping -

Only to find Shana laying in the top bunk, reading something on a data pad. Sabine winced, having forgotten that she wouldn't be alone for the night.

"Don't mind me," said Shana amiably, almost as if reading Sabine's thoughts. "Just pretend I'm not here."

Gladly, Sabine thought. But she said, "Hope I didn't disturb your reading."

Shana chuckled. "You didn't. I was just finishing up, actually." She rolled over in the bed to get a better look at Sabine. Her gray eyes took in Sabine's casual appearance, glittering with an almost feline interest.

Sabine, uncomfortable with her gaze, settled down at her desk and reached for her blasters and maintenance tools. "Anything interesting?"

"Oh, plenty," replied Shana. "I was reading about this superweapon developed by the Empire called 'The Duchess'."

Sabine froze, her hands twitching on the grip of her blaster. Her heart began to hammer away, a thousand beats per second. Slowly, she turned towards Shana, finding her sitting at the bed's edge, her feet dangling. There was a slight, polite smile on her face, but her gray eyes flashed again with that cool intelligence.

"You have led quite the life, Sabine Wren," remarked Shana. "Tragedy after tragedy. Does anyone in this crew know about any of that?" She cocked her head at Sabine. "Does Ezra? What would the gallant Jedi think of his friend if he really knew her?"

It was a thought that had kept Sabine up through the night on several occasions.

She crossed her arms and stared at Shana. "You've been reading up on me."

Shana shrugged. "On everyone, really. Princess Leia recommended you all so highly, so I couldn't help but take a peek at your files and histories. Quite the achievements you've pulled off for a crew so small."

"I've been reading up on you, too," replied Sabine coolly. Shana arched an eyebrow in surprise, eliciting a rush of satisfaction - clearly the spy had not been expecting that. "You ran with Saw Gerrera's crew for five years before working directly under Princess Leia. Did he kick you out, I wonder? What does it mean if you're too extreme even for someone like him?"

Shana dropped down from the top bunk and leaned against the bulkhead; her arms crossed in a similar fashion to Sabine. She wondered briefly if it was intentional, to mimic her. "Those files are available only to the top brass of Rebel Command," she murmured. "You hacked into the Rebellion's encrypted database at that old computer station? I assumed you were just skulking about, trying to listen to mine and Ezra's conversation."

Sabine shrugged, hiding her humiliation at having been clocked so easily by the other girl. And here I was thinking that was discreet, she thought. "I'm clever like that," Sabine retorted.

Shana grinned. "Your reputation precedes you, Sabine. Gifted prowess in combat, especially for a Mandalorian, and notable demolitions expert - but everyone seems to overlook that you are a child prodigy. I suspect your rough, blunt demeanor disguises that fact well. But you are, without a doubt, an enormous threat against anyone that chooses to go against you."

Sabine rocked back mentally at Shana's high praise of her talents. But all she said was, "Thanks, I guess."

Shana nodded in acknowledgment. "I can't say the same for Ezra, however." Shaking her head, she added, "I'm surprised he's survived this long."

"What do you mean?" asked Sabine.

"He's hopeless," said Shana in an exasperated tone. "I mean, yes, he's a Jedi now - or so he claims. I understand they're in short supply of capable students but to recruit him into the fabled Jedi Order? Desperate times, I suppose. He could barely tie his shoelaces together when I left him last."

"Ezra Bridger," said Sabine hotly, "is more than capable in any situation. Not because of his Jedi training, but because of who he is. He's saved all our lives - and many others - countless times over."

Shana eyed her skeptically. "You don't have to pretend to me, Sabine. I was just like you before. He's a loyal pup to be sure and good for a distraction I admit, but it's a stretch to say that he's capable on his own." She sighed. "I understand that this crew needed a mascot, perhaps, to cheer them up during these dark times but I think it's irresponsible to take someone like him - "

Sabine struck her with an open hand so hard that the other girl's head bounced off the bulkhead. Before Shana could recover, she shoved her against the wall, pinning her with a well-placed forearm. Sabine, through the red haze that obscured her vision, dimly noted the cut lip on the girl's face but found that she didn't care.

"Do not insult Ezra Bridger in front of me ever again," she said in a voice that was barely recognizable. It was a harsh rasp that Sabine didn't know she was capable of. "Do you understand?"

Shana tapped on Sabine's arm, gasping for air. It took a few moments for her to realize that the other girl couldn't reply due to the lack of air. Sabine relented, feeling her heartbeat pulsing rhythmically inside her skull; she looked down at her hands and found them shaking from the rush of adrenaline, now subsiding.

Yet on the inside she felt calm, as though a stream of ice water were flowing through her veins. Many things from Shana had unnerved her tonight, but it was her insults toward Ezra that had pushed Sabine past the edge.

Doubled over, wheezing, Shana gave her an amused look to Sabine's surprise. "So, you do care," she said.

"You didn't answer my question," Sabine said quietly.

Shana nodded. "I understand. You've got this emotional wall up, you know that? Hard to see through - except when it comes to Ezra Bridger." She wiped at her lip, noting the blood. "Nice hit," she observed.

Sabine reached into her desk and took out a first-aid kit. "Patch yourself up," she said, offering it to her.

Shana accepted it with a nod of gratitude. "I hope you don't take what I said about Ezra seriously. I just needed to know where you stand with him."

Sabine sat back down at her desk. "You don't actually think that way about him?"

Shana shook her head and leaned back against the wall, opening the kit. "Not at all. I know Ezra. We used to scavenge together back in the old days on Lothal. Hit up Imperial patrols for food and water. He stuck his neck out for me plenty of times, at risk to his life. I know what he can do. And that was before he became a Jedi."

Sabine watched her apply medicinal gel to her lip, thinking over what she said. "You care about him."

Shana blew out a breath. "Deeply. He was the only bright spot in my life during that time. I think I loved him."

Sabine felt her heart stop at Shana's words, hearing the depth and sincerity of emotion within them. Feeling her stare, Shana looked over at her with a knowing gaze. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

Deflecting the question, Sabine asked, "So why did you leave him? How did you two get separated?"

Shana sighed. "One of our little scavenging operations went sideways. An uppity Imperial lieutenant wanted to make an example of us for humiliating him in front of his troops. The chase was exhausting; Ezra led most of them away but the lieutenant caught up to me. I thought I was dead."

She closed her eyes, reliving the memory. "Saw Gerrera was there. Don't ask me why or how; he never explained. He killed the lieutenant and offered me a choice. He was impressed with my skills, you see. So he said that I could come with him and pay back the Empire for what they had done to me."

"And if you didn't?"

The girl smiled grimly at Sabine. "He would kill me. No witnesses. Apparently, he didn't want the Empire knowing about his whereabouts, should they find and interrogate me afterwards."

Sabine snorted. "Not much of a choice."

"Indeed," Shana agreed. "So, I went with him."

"And left Ezra? You never went back for him?" Sabine didn't mean to, but there was an accusatory tone to her questions.

Shana eyes glazed over with sadness. "I couldn't. He was just a kid. I didn't want to pull him into danger. I could tell Saw was dangerous, even if he was fighting for the Rebellion. The moment I had an opportunity to do so, I jumped ship. Princess Leia found me and offered a new path. I took it."

Sabine was silent for a moment, thinking about Shana's story. Finally, she said quietly, "Ezra would have followed, if you had asked. He would have gone with you anywhere."

"I know. He's silly like that."

"Loyal," she corrected. Shana cocked her head and smiled a little sadly at Sabine.

"Just like you are to him. Is it typical Mandalorian stubbornness? Or something more?"

Sabine did not want to have that conversation with Shana. Or with anyone else, for that matter. She stood up abruptly and said, "Good night, Shana."

Shana's smile became, somehow, even more sad. "A word of advice, Sabine?"

Sabine was already standing at the door, about to step out. But something in Shana's tone made her pause.

"Don't wait to tell him how you feel. You won't get a second chance. Especially in this galaxy."

She considered Shana's words for a long moment before replying, "Whatever you think our relationship is . . . it's none of your business. That stays between us."

Sabine left before the other girl could respond. Her mind still buzzing with what happened, she wandered aimlessly through the corridors of the Ghost before running smack dab into someone.

"Sabine? What are you doing?" Sabine blinked at the person speaking - and almost groaned out loud.

It was Ezra. Dressed in his sleep wear, holding a mug of his favorite beverage, hot chocolate. His eyebrows were raised in an expression of concern. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Sabine very desperately wanted to be anywhere else right now. Her face was flushed in embarrassment; her heart was thudding a steady tattoo into her ribs at Ezra's proximity. She felt exposed, like a raw nerve, her inner turmoil and feelings threatening to spill out the longer she stayed in front of him.

Racking her brain to find some last second excuse to get out of there, something caught her attention: Ezra's fingers were bandaged. Her fears momentarily vanished as she asked, "What happened to your hands?"

Ezra fumbled his mug, trying to hide the evidence but it was too late. Sighing, he said, "I was working on something."

Sabine arched an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "Working on what?"

Blushing, Ezra said, "Promise not to laugh?"

A small smile curled on her lips. "Nope."

Ezra groaned but led her to the communal table where his "project" laid. She noted immediately the disarray of colored paper strewn about on the table, half folded in various attempts into a familiar shape -

It clicked. "You're trying to make a flower out of these?" she asked. Ezra sat down and nodded glumly.

"Ezra Bridger," she said, placing a hand on her hip. "You've been holding out on me in terms of artistic abilities? That come with your Jedi training?"

He gave her a despairing glance. "I wish. Been up most of the night trying to figure this out."

Stifling a laugh out of pity, she surveyed his work. "It's not half-bad. What kind of flower are you trying to make?"

Ezra rubbed the back of his head, not looking at her. "It's supposed to be a - well, a Lenora flower."

Sabine's eyes widened in surprise. "A Lenora flower? From the fairytale?" Princess Lenora and the Starboy was an old fairytale that she was familiar with - in fact, it was one of her most treasured stories. Memories of her father reading it to her when she was younger, were still vivid in her mind. The flowers from that fairytale held deep symbolic meaning that marked them as her favorite.

"Yeah."

"I see." Sabine studied Ezra's work some more, looking to see where he went wrong - and then felt her stomach sink, as a horrid thought came to her.

"It's for Shana, isn't it." The words tasted rancid in her mouth.

Ezra looked at her, surprised. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then - oddly enough - a small, relieved smile appeared on his face. He answered in an innocent tone, "Sure. It's for Shana."

There was a part of Sabine, operating from a recent frame of memory, that wanted to sweep the contents of the table onto the floor and stomp on them. She struggled to control her wayward feelings, however, and took a deep breath.

"You want some help?"

Ezra's expression turned amused. "You sure?"

Sabine sighed. "Yeah. I'm sure." He needed her help. Like always.

And she could never turn him down.

He patted the seat next to him. "Thanks, Sabine."

Despite the situation, Sabine managed a smile at her friend. "Anytime, goober."

Ord Mantell City, Ord Mantell

Ord Mantell City was a bustling acropolis, teeming with all manner of people far flung from the distant corners of the galaxy. Tall spires loomed over the city center; a sprawling mass of mis-matched architecture that spread far as the eye could see. Rumor had it that the infamous criminal organization, the Black Sun, operated out of here - a rumor that the Empire was desperate to quash, as it clashed with their image of retaining control over the entire known galaxy. Despite being a haven for ill-gotten gains and profit, it was certainly a far cry from the pits of villainy and scum that other planets were, and the citizens enjoyed a relatively peaceful life despite the tense cold war between the Empire and the criminal organizations that inhabited their city.

The Ghost had arrived mid-morning with time to spare before Shana had to make contact with her Imperial informant. After taking the time to do a quick survey of the locals to ensure that they weren't being watched, Shana revealed her plan to the crew: a simple trade made in the market square and then she would be shuttled off in a separate transport nearby with another Fulcrum agent who was waiting on stand-by. The Ghost crew would act as her escort, in case things got hairy.

It was a reasonable enough plan - except for one, glaring flaw that Sabine immediately noticed.

"Why is Ezra the only one going with you for back-up?" she asked, trying to keep the heat out of her voice. "I thought we were all going with you."

Shana shook her head. "My informant would scamper at the sight of a group approaching. Two is more than sufficient to handle him, I assure you. The rest of you will wait back here, in the Ghost, ready to assist should we need it. The market square isn't far from the landing pad."

Sabine looked to Kanan and Hera. "Please tell me you disagree with this," she said.

Kanan stroked his beard, thinking. "Hera?" he asked. "What's your opinion?"

Hera answered, "She knows the area better than we do. And I know Shana and Ezra can handle themselves in a fight." She glanced at Sabine. "It's her plan, Sabine. And we'll be nearby in case something goes wrong."

"Which it won't," Shana said reassuringly. "I know this informant. He won't be a problem."

Sabine glared at her, then turned towards Kanan. "Kanan?"

Kanan let out a deep breath. "I'm with Hera on this one. We'll leave it to those two. This information is important. We don't want to risk spooking her informant."

Zeb grunted in assent. Chopper whomped his agreement, as well.

Sabine gritted her teeth, preparing to launch an argument -

Ezra interjected before she could open her mouth. "Sabine."

She looked at him. He gave her a serious look and said, "It'll be fine. Trust me."

Sabine blew out a frustrated breath. "Fine. Leave your com-links on, though. I want to hear everything being said. The moment something goes wrong, we'll know."

Shana nodded. "Agreed." Turning to Ezra, she said, "Let's be off, Master Jedi."

Ezra bowed gallantly at her and said, "Lead the way, my lady." They began to make their way down the boarding ramp.

Sabine rolled her eyes. Shana paused at the entrance and turned around to face Sabine.

"What?" asked Sabine.

"He'll be safe with me," said Shana. "I promise."

And she left without another word. Sabine watched her catch up to Ezra, turn a corner on the street ahead, and then vanish into the crowd.

An hour later, they returned triumphant with the data disc in hand. Sabine bounded down the ramp, almost colliding into Ezra. She had been pacing inside the Ghost, listening to the tense conversation exchanged between Shana and her Imperial informant, expecting it to go sideways at any given moment - but it never did.

Shana did her job as expected. Ezra checked in a few minutes later to let them know they were on the way back, and that he hadn't spotted - or sensed - anyone following them.

"Huh," said Kanan. "That's a first for us. A job that didn't have any complications."

Hera glanced at Sabine knowingly. "Well, for most of us, anyway," she remarked.

She bit her lip and double-checked her friend for trackers, despite knowing there were none.

Shana said, "I'm fine, too, in case you were wondering."

Sabine threw her a glare and finished her inspection. "No trackers on you, far as I can tell. All clear."

Ezra raised an eyebrow at her. "That was a very . . . thorough inspection on your part, Sabine."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Shut up, goober."

He grinned briefly at her and then turned to Shana. "I guess this is farewell," he said quietly.

The other girl shook her head. "Don't say it like that, Ezra. I'm sure we'll meet again - "

Ezra interrupted her. "Just say it this once. Please. For me."

Shana looked taken aback for a moment and then smiled sadly. "Good-bye, Ezra Bridger."

And then she leaned forward, giving a soft kiss on his cheek. Sabine looked away.

"Good-bye, Shana," he said softly. He turned back towards the Ghost and walked up the ramp without another word. Which left Sabine alone with Shana.

Sabine gazed at her, not sure what to say. Shana, however, merely smiled and offered her hand. Incredulous, Sabine gripped it and gave a firm shake.

"This has been an . . . experience," she said. "I'm still not sure what to make of it."

"Can I tell you something, Sabine? I'm rather jealous of you. Ezra clearly cares for you deeply."

"And what makes you think that?"

"He didn't say good-bye to you when he left with me. He just asked you to trust him; trust that he would come back." Her smile turned melancholy. "I don't think he'll ever say good-bye to you, Sabine Wren."

Shana's com-link sent out a chirping noise. She checked it and said, "That's my ride. I should be going shortly."

"Well, safe travels. And good hunting," replied Sabine. The Fulcrum agent nodded and turned to go - but paused for a split second and turned back towards her.

"Yes?" asked Sabine, cautiously.

"Remember what I said. About not waiting." She looked thoughtful for a moment and then added with a sincere smile, "And take care of him, will you? He's all yours now."

And then she took a few hurried steps and disappeared into the crowded streets of Ord Mantell City.

Hyperspace, The Way Home

Later that night, getting ready for bed, Sabine came across Ezra sitting alone in the Ghost's communal area. He was studying something gripped in his hand, his expression lost in thought.

Sabine took a step closer and felt her eyes widen in recognition: it was the paper Lenora flower that he had made the night prior.

"You still have that?" she asked.

Ezra jolted slightly in his seat. "Oh, hey. Didn't see you there."

"Shana didn't want it?" Sabine asked. She couldn't imagine the girl refusing Ezra's present. Just the thought of it alone made Sabine wish she had hit Shana harder when she had the chance.

Ezra smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, it wasn't for Shana in the first place."

He abruptly offered it to her. Sabine felt her jaw drop in surprise.

"It's for me?"

He nodded. "Hera told me that you were feeling a little neglected since I was focused on spending time with Shana, so I decided to make this as thanks. I appreciate you giving us the time and space to catch up."

Sabine took the flower gently from Ezra's hand. "How did you know to make this one? It's my favorite."

Ezra smiled at her. "You might have mentioned it a time or two during a conversation. It's from your favorite fairytale."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Try that again."

He winced. "Okay, I snuck into your room one time and saw the book laying on your bed. It wasn't for weird reasons, I promise! Zeb ate all my snacks, and I knew you had some stashed away, so I went looking while you were out."

Sabine snorted. "I believe you now." She rolled the flower between her fingertips, admiring the work Ezra had put into it.

All for her.

"You know what this flower symbolizes, Ezra?" she asked suddenly.

He thought about it. "Unwavering loyalty and dedication, right? I can't quite remember the whole story."

And love, she thought.

"Anyway," Ezra said quietly, "I just wanted you to know that . . . well, you're the only one for me, Sabine. No one will ever replace you."

Sabine's eyes snapped to Ezra; she could hear her heartbeat, pulsing loudly in her ears.

"As a partner," he added hastily. "I mean - well, you know - "

She smiled. "I know what you mean, goober."

Don't wait to tell him how you feel. You won't get a second chance. Especially in this galaxy.

He's all mine now, she thought. All mine.

"We should probably head to bed now. Separately. But you knew that." Ezra's expression became increasingly mortified at what was coming out of his mouth. He looked like he wanted to very badly disappear in that second.

Sabine just laughed. "True. It's been a long day."

He shook his head, his expression flustered. "Good night, Sabine. See you in the morning." He began to walk down the hallway towards his room.

Don't wait.

"Hey, Ezra," she called. He turned around.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," she said softly.

Ezra cocked his head in an inquisitive manner. "Is that a Mandalorian saying?"

Sabine nodded.

"What does it mean?"

"A literal translation is 'I will know you forever.'"

Ezra mulled over the significance of what she said. "Nothing's certain in this galaxy, Sabine," he said. "But I hope that's true for us."

"Me, too," Sabine replied. She followed him down the hallway to their rooms.

"Does that phrase have another meaning?" asked Ezra. "I get the feeling it translates to something else."

I love you.

Sabine smiled at him. "It does have another, more famous meaning. I'll tell you about it someday. When this war is over."

"Ah," said Ezra dryly. "Well, that won't be too much of a wait, then. Between you and me, we've got the Empire on the ropes already."

Sabine laughed.

"Promise me you'll really tell me what the other meaning is?" asked Ezra. "You won't leave me hanging, right?"

Sabine looked at him, gazing deeply into his eyes. How blue they looked, she thought. How they shined like sapphire gems under the right lighting.

"I promise, Ezra Bridger," she said. "No matter what. If the galaxy tries to separate us, I'll find you and tell you."

[notyourprof]

F1 Explains – 9 November 2023 – Notes/Summary

When Em @powerful-owl first put out her call for primers (what feels like a hundred years ago now), I swore I had just recently listened to a description of what a race weekend was like for drivers on one of my podcasts, almost certainly F1 Explains. I listened back to the two episodes I thought it might be on, and figured I’d go ahead and take and share some notes on everything, in case there is some useful info in there for others. It turns out I had mis-remembered, because the discussion was about what a race weekend is like for media folks, not drivers, but I think it’s still useful because it does give information about what the drivers’ media obligations are.

In general, I highly recommend the F1 Explains podcast (previously called Formula Why), especially to new F1 fans who want to learn more details about the sport. Katie Osborne and Christian Hewgill co-host it, and on most episodes they pick a single topic (e.g. racing in the rain, street circuits, driver training regimens, etc.) and do a deep dive with a few different experts. But they also do semi-regular “quick-fire” episodes where they cover a bunch of questions that maybe don’t need a full episode to answer. Former Aston Martin strategist and current F1 + Sky Sports strategy analyst Bernie (Bernadette) Collins is a regular guest expert on the quick-fire episodes. (She’s also a regular in MY HEART, because she is amazing and wonderful and has the best Irish accent.) There are a few other rotating experts as well, usually from the F1/Sky Sports family.

Anyways, here is my write-up of the answer to the question about what a race weekend is like for media, which was on the episode from 9 November 2023:

Q: What are race weekends like for media and broadcasters? Are there dedicated times the media can speak to drivers? A: F1 is one of the sports where media actually get the most availability of drivers for the media. Thursday is Media Day. Each team puts out a list of times, usually a 5-20 minute window, where TV or print media can come along and ask questions. For TV it’s called a “scrum” where the media are in a sort of arc around the driver with all of their cameras pointed at the driver and they take turns asking questions. Written media is similar. If the driver misses that time for whatever reason, there usually aren’t any backup times. Media can also request one-to-one interviews at a separate time, but that is negotiated and set weeks and weeks in advance. Each team puts aside one hour for media time on a Thursday that includes the TV and written media scrums as well as any one-to-one interviews. Additionally, every weekend there are two press conferences held by the FIA on Media Day. Ten drivers do the press conference with written media where the drivers are all sat together at a desk or on couches answering questions. The other ten drivers do the TV pen, which is a U-shape with all of the TV crews standing around the outside and each driver works their way around the U talking to each TV crew. Each crew gets a maximum of two questions per driver. After each practice session, qualifying, and the race itself, the drivers will do the TV pen again and speak to written media. The top three finishers also do the post-race press conference.

So feel free to use this information when writing fic, but also remember that you don’t have to have all of your facts absolutely perfectly correct! It’s called fiction for a reason!

There were a lot of other interesting questions and answers in the episode, which I also took notes on, and I will put those below the cut. (Read on to find out which driver has Strong Feelings about the roundabouts near Milton Keynes, and which world champions have accidentally pulled into the wrong pit boxes before, LOL.)

Is this the kind of thing that is interesting and useful? I have a summary written up already for the 2 November 2023 episode, because I thought the "what is race weekend like" question might be in that one, but this is already super long. Should I post the notes on that episode in a different post? I can do notes/summaries for other episodes if that's something people are interested in, but I have a bad history of spending a lot of time documenting things in fandom that no one else ever uses or looks at, so I'm trying to...better allocate my limited spare time.

F1 Explains – 9 November 2023 Quick-fire questions with Bernie Collins & Lawrence Barretto

First, a sidenote: Daniel Ricciardo once did a shoey from one of Lawrence Baretto’s shoes. Daniel signed it and Lawrence has it on desk now.

Q: What construction and logistics have to go into a new street circuit, and how to teams prepare for a brand new track?

A: The streets used for the race track have to be re-laid with new tarmac, there has to be coordination with street opening and closing, hotels and other businesses around the circuit, etc. There is a full episode on racetrack design. To prepare for a new track, teams look closely at historical weather data (including temperatures and wind). They’ll load 2D and sometimes 3D scans of the track into their simulators, although often there isn’t full information yet because the final track hasn’t been finished. Lots of simulations and calculations in an attempt to get as much data as they can in advance. There’s also a full episode about how simulators work.

Q: How important is the engine manufacturer? Are they a glorified sponsor that provides an F1-approved generic engine or are there real technical differences between the engines from different suppliers?

A: There are differences between power units from different manufacturers. It also gives them a chance to really stretch themselves and bring in expertise from all around the company (e.g. if they also manufacture jet engines) and to hopefully get some good PR that will lead to more people buying their street cars. In 2023 for the first time, each engine manufacturer showed their engine off to the press to show the differences between each unit. 2023 engine manufacturers were Ferrari, Renault, Mercedes, and Honda. In 2026, Ford and Audi will join as new manufacturers.

Q: Why do drivers and engineers do track walks? Do all teams and drivers do this?

A: Not all drivers do it, some of them will do a run or go out on a scooter. Reasons to do it include looking for changes from last year (new bumps, changes to gravel or curbs (kerbs), etc.) as well as having a bit of uninterrupted time for drivers and their race engineers to talk to each other. Also can be helpful to the commentators/presenters. Helps everyone build/remember their muscle memory of the track if they’ve been there before.

Q: Is F1 using AI? Could it be used for race strategy?

A: Yes, most teams are already doing machine learning in calculations and simulations, but for now human input is still required (and probably always will be).

(Repeating this here because this is where it was in the episode) Q: What are race weekends like for media and broadcasters? Are there dedicated times the media can speak to drivers?

A: F1 is one of the sports where media actually get the most availability of drivers for the media. Thursday is Media Day. Each team puts out a list of times, usually a 5-20 minute window, where TV or print media can come along and ask questions. For TV it’s called a “scrum” where the media are in a sort of arc around the driver with all of their cameras pointed at the driver and they take turns asking questions. Written media is similar. If the driver misses that time for whatever reason, there usually aren’t any backup times. Media can also request one-to-one interviews at a separate time, but that is negotiated and set weeks and weeks in advance. Each team puts aside one hour for media time on a Thursday that includes the TV and written media scrums as well as any one-to-one interviews. Additionally, every weekend there are two press conferences held by the FIA on Media Day. Ten drivers do the press conference with written media where the drivers are all sat together at a desk or on couches answering questions. The other ten drivers do the TV pen, which is a U-shape with all of the TV crews standing around the outside and each driver works their way around the U talking to each TV crew. Each crew gets a maximum of two questions per driver. After each practice session, qualifying, and the race itself, the drivers will do the TV pen again and speak to written media. The top three finishers also do the post-race press conference.

Q: How much interaction is there between broadcasting teams from different countries?

A: A lot. They all see each other regularly so they get to know each other, and they often chat amongst themselves to communicate about what drivers have said to their home broadcasters, because they usually give longer/more detailed answers when they’re speaking in their native language.

Q: How does breaking news get shared with everyone?

A: Press releases used to be printed out on paper and handed out in the Media Center. Now each F1 team has a WhatsApp group specifically for media so they send info that way (e.g. about driver availability for interviews or problems with the cars) in addition to email and social media.

Q: Is there a dedicated space for journalists to write up their race reports?

A: Yes, it’s called the Media Center, there are desks, TV screens, food, and drinks (especially coffee!). The press conference room is in the Media Center as well, adjacent to the work area where journalists can sit and write.

Q: Has Bernie ever had a debrief delayed [when she was a team strategist] due to media interviews running long?

A: Many of the debriefs have been delayed by drivers, and blaming it on the media is an easy out when maybe it was actually the driver who stopped to get a coffee or whatever. Each F1 driver has their own press officer who helps them meet all of their press responsibilities. Often the drivers will talk longer than they are supposed to; Alex Albon and Oscar Piastri are specifically named as drivers who are very good at going off on tangents and talking to the media for too long. One time, Alex spent a good amount of time ranting about the roundabouts in Milton Keynes near the Red Bull factory is based.

Q: How is the order of the garages in the pit lane decided? Are there advantages to being in certain positions and does it play into race strategy?

A: At most tracks, the garages are in order based on how the teams finished in the constructor’s championship the previous year, so over a given season, the garages on either side of your teams don’t change. Sometimes the previous champions are right at the pit lane entry, sometimes near the exit, that depends on the track. If you’re right at the entry, it’s easier to come in and pit (i.e. there aren’t any other team’s mechanics in your way), but more difficult to get back out on track. Near the pit exit, the opposite is true (harder to get in, easier to get out). Depending on the track, it can be helpful to be right near the pit exit (e.g. if you want to get right out on track with clear air in front of you, Bernie mentions Monaco) or further back (e.g. if it’s better to have some other cars go first in qualifying, Bernie mentions Monza). The only exception to the rule of “garages are in order of last year’s championship standings” is Silverstone, where the pit lane is at about the same height as the track in the middle but at either end the pit lane is lower than the track so visibility is impaired. Because of this, the garages in the center (with a good view of the track) are considered most desirable and are thus taken by the top teams.

Christian Hewgill points out how surprising/impressive it is that drivers don’t pull into the wrong pit box more often. For example, at the 2011 Chinese Grand Prix, Jenson Button accidentally parked in the wrong garage and it cost him the lead in the race to Sebastian Vettel. Bernie points out that teams have done a lot of things to help drivers get to the correct pit lanes. It often happens when drivers switch teams (e.g. Lewis Hamilton once went into the McLaren pit when he had just moved to Mercedes, Sebastian Vettel went to the Ferrari pit once after he had switched to Aston Martin).

Q: What is parc fermé? What are the restrictions? How are they enforced?

A: Parc fermé is a period of time in which teams are not allowed to touch their cars or make any changes related to performance, however they can make changes related to safety. It promotes sustainability and rewards teams that do well in practice figuring out what works best for that track. During sprint weekends, teams only have one practice before the cars go into parc fermé, which makes it particularly difficult to adjust the cars to the track. Cars do often get taken apart and reassembled while in parc fermé to check components, clean things, etc., but the F1/FIA scrutineers will put stickers on the car parts to make sure the same parts are used when reassembling the car.

Q: What is an anti-stall? How is it different from a regular stall?

A: (Note that I am basically quoting Bernie verbatim here because I’ve never driven a manual/stick-shift car and don’t understand the details of how they work!) An anti-stall is very similar to a normal stall, but F1 have come up with clever ways to make sure the car engines don’t actually stall. In a regular manual car, if you were to let the clutch out too much or not give it enough throttle and the car stalled, the engine would cut out. At the starting grid, the driver might do the same thing (e.g. not give it enough throttle) and the car might stall, but the engine doesn’t actually cut out. (Another note: it’s not explicitly stated, but I think this is a safety thing so that even if the car stalls and doesn’t get a super fast start, the driver will be able to accelerate pretty quickly after, instead of sitting on the grid unable to move while the cars behind start crashing into the stalled car.)

Q: Why do F1 teams change names?

A: OK I started writing this in a way that makes sense beyond the short answers given on the podcast, but it really needs to be a separate post. The short answer to “why do teams change names?” is money. (Shocker!) 

Sometimes a team that also makes something else wants to promote one of their brands, e.g. Renault rebranding to Alpine, which is Renault’s sports car brand, or Toro Rosso rebranding to AlphaTauri, which is Red Bull’s clothing line. 

Sometimes a team will have a sponsor who pays enough money to be a title sponsor, e.g. Oracle Red Bull Racing or the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team, where Oracle and Petronas are completely separate companies that pay a lot of money in addition to providing relevant expertise to their teams. 

(In the other post, I’ll get into Sauber/Alfa Romeo/Stake/Kick, don’t worry. 😂)

Q: How is the number of laps in a Grand Prix determined?

A: The number of laps for a given circuit is however many laps are needed to get to a 305 km (~190 mi) race distance. The exception is Monaco where the distance is 260 km (~162 mi).

[judewrld]

under the mistletoe

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: you spend christmas with your boyfriend and his friends, only thing is: they don’t know you’re dating.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: boyfriend!jude x f!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: fluff

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 1.7k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: just cute holiday fun with jude and the england squad.

⏤  𝑎/n: my first post on here! feel free to leave feedback or request :)

Nearly an hour and a half into Harry and his wife’s Christmas party, you can still smell the aroma of gingerbread cookies and the roast you had helped Katie make. Their home is decked out in Christmas décor. Twinkling lights line the walls and the Christmas tree shines brightly in the corner of the living room with several presents wrapped neatly underneath. There are even stockings hanging from the living room windowsill, one stocking for each of his England teammates and their party dates. You were the exception, being best friends with Jude meant wherever he went, you went. The boys have grown accustomed to you always being the younger males plus one.

Harry and his wife are considered to be the best party hosts. Along with having a perfectly decorated home, a competitive gingerbread house competition, they also organized a very successful Secret Santa gift exchange activity.

Marcus had you and had gifted you a beautiful vintage camera, recalling you telling him once that you wanted to document more memories with him and the boys to keep while they were away playing in the Euros and other major games seeing as you have school and can’t always accompany them. 

As you admire the decorations throughout the home, Trent tipsily goes on about the F1 tickets you had gifted him as his Secret Santa. Drink in hand, Trent once again thanks you for the gift before leaving to go start a conversation with Henderson about the upcoming season.

You make your way into the kitchen to see Phil and Saka standing by the kitchen island bickering on how to decorate their gingerbread house for the competition. You giggle at their childish antics but go up to them to offer your help anyway.

“Need any help?”

Phil looks up at you in relief and moves aside, “yes please. This bloke has no clue what he’s doing.” He says slapping the piping bag out of Saka’s hand before he gets to add on to his mini gingerbread man.

Saka frowns at Phil before pushing him back, “my gingerbread man looks lovely.”

Smiling a little you shake your head and pick up the discarded piping bag and get to work on decorating little buttons on the extra gingerbread men.

"See, that’s how you decorate a gingerbread man" Phil mumbles from behind you as he looks down at the gingerbread from over your shoulder.

While the two speak strategy, you look up and spot Jude staring at you from the entryway to the kitchen. You raise your eyebrow in question and cock your head to the side, Jude’s lips curve up into a smirk. You roll your eyes and try to stifle a smile before turning your attention back to Saka who’s instructing you to add some buttons on to the other gingerbread men Phil had decorated.

“Why do you and Jude keep eyeing each other?” Phil’s question, although innocent, has your heart racing. 

Looking towards Jude, who’s back to his conversation with Mason, you simply shrug. 

“We’re not. I’m gonna get a drink, do you two want one?” You quickly change the topic, hoping your friends don't catch on to anything. Phil and Saka quirk a brow at you but don’t push.  

“Yeah, some more eggnog would be great, thank you.” Phil says as he holds out his cup.

You take Phil’s empty cup and grab a new one for Saka before making your way to the entryway of the kitchen to the little cart that holds different types of hot chocolate and spiked nog, glancing at Jude, to find he was of course already watching you. 

You and Jude had met a few years ago during your study abroad in Germany. You had bumped into him by chance with your host family at a restaurant in Dortmund to celebrate you passing the semester with all A’s and became very close friends. At first, his BVB teammates all thought you two would end up dating and did their best to get the ball moving on that but gave up when they saw no progress. When Jude left to play for England in the 2020 Euros he gave you tickets to watch the England V. Croatia match, you were the first one he went to to celebrate the win after the match. That’s what convinced the England team their young mate had feelings for you, however, with no obvious signs of romance on your end, they all gave up on the idea and accepted the fact that you two were simply best friends.

You and Jude came to the same conclusion up until about two weeks ago when a typical Friday night hang out turned suspiciously very date-like. From cuddling on his couch binge watching Love Island to baking a cake together for his mothers birthday. The night ended with a kiss in Jude’s apartment, followed by a blushing Jude asking you to stay the night. 

As you poured the drinks, Saka and Phil left the kitchen to go join Declan and Raheem who were currently playing a fifa match. Jude then stepped into the kitchen examining the Christmas cookies that Harry’s children had left out for Santa before stealing your attention from the hot milk as he cleared his throat. 

“You look amazing tonight darling” he smiled, watching you from the other side of the abnormally large kitchen. 

With a smile, you blush, plopping a hot choco bomb into Saka’s cup. 

“Seeing as you can’t keep your eyes off of me, I must” you tease cockily, stirring the drink. “It’s almost like we weren’t just at your place an hour ago getting ready together.” You say, looking over your shoulder,

Jude leans against the island, sporting a slick smirk. 

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate how beautiful you are?” He asks, eyeing you up and down admiring your choice in clothing for the night. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger for a second on your legs. You’d gone for an all black outfit, a cute wrap dress with the v line dipping just generously enough, all paired with pantyhose. 

Grabbing Phil’s cup you step away from the cart and slowly make your way closer to Jude. 

“Who am I to stop you,” you smirk. “Just maybe not in front of our friends, I think Saka and Phil are catching on.” Stepping past him, he stands up straight, resting his palm at the small of your back. 

Leaning forward, he presses his lips to the back of your head. “Phil’s too drunk to catch on and Saka doesn’t care,” he whispers into your hair before leaving a sweet kiss at the back of your head. 

Snorting, you hum. “I don’t know, I think his buzz is actually making him more perceptive. You should have heard the argument he was having with Saka over frosted buttons,” you smile as Jude chuckles against your scalp and pulls away from you a bit to gesture down to the cup in your hands. “And yet here you are, enabling him.” 

You snort at the remark and give the drink one last stir before walking to the entryway of the kitchen before pausing, attempting to shimmy Jude’s hand away from your lower back. 

“You’re gonna be the reason we get caught” You point out, looking down at his arm. 

“And what’s so wrong with that?” He questions a hint of seriousness behind his words. You turn to face him but before you can respond to the question, Trent’s voice giddily interrupts you both. “Well look up, lovebirds.”

Trent cocks his head upwards towards the ceiling, casually leaning against Henderson when you and Jude glance up, innocently viewing the little mistletoe dangling above your heads.

“Love birds?” Jude questions Trent’s choice of words as your eyes pop wide open. 

You look at your boyfriend to gauge his reaction, you find that his face remains calm as he looks above you both, his lips curving upwards just slightly when he spots the plant hanging a few feet above you. 

With all eyes on you and Jude, you can feel your skin heating up. Glaring at Trent, you deadpan, “I’m not kissing him.” 

Trent returns your response with a look of confusion. “Why not?” 

Suddenly, Harry’s voice echos from across the room, shouting, “It’s tradition! You have to!” That’s when you realized that every person in the house was watching you and Jude, smiles plastered on all of their faces. 

“It’s a silly tradition,” you complain, turning your full attention to the room of people.

“Oh, come on, some traditions are fun,” Saka teases.

You and Jude shuffle about a little, not exactly daring to exchange gazes when the air becomes stuffy. You were both pondering what the absolute hell to do in this moment. Do you kiss? Do you not kiss? Do you awkwardly try to laugh it off?

You shoot Saka a glare, his grin wide as Trent’s voice cuts through the room again. 

“Come on, it doesn’t have to mean anything,”

Before you get the chance to respond, large hands find the sides of your face. Your focus quickly shifts back towards Jude, his pretty face just inches away. In less than a second, his lips are on yours in a sweet lingering kiss. With your hands occupied with Phil’s cup, all you can do is stand there in shock. 

Jude doesn’t make an attempt to deepen the kiss, pulling away just enough for you to look into his brown eyes and admire his smile. 

His thumb caresses your cheek, and despite the hoots and hollers from your rowdy audience, all you can focus on is Jude. 

Leaning back into his touch you kiss him again, both of you smiling against each other’s lips. 

With the excited cheers and comments bursting throughout the room, Jude leans his forehead against yours and smiles brightly. 

“I guess I should introduce you all to my girlfriend or something,” he says nonchalantly, making you roll your eyes and tuck your face into his chest in embarrassment. 

“I hate you,” you mumble against his chest. Jude’s shoulders shake in silent laughter as he places a peck to the top of your head. 

“No you don’t.”