#painted most of this while waiting for training to start

[kenonade]

orange cat kev proof (real)

[ramonathinks]

RAISE THE STAKES.

being a therapist was hard enough without the leader of an infamous group becoming your patient or to answer your questions, sylus has a few requests.

(18+, no minors! no blank accounts!) inappropriate relationships, patient!slyus, therapist!reader, munch slyus, oral and female masturbation, slight pussy inspection, dirty talk. exhibitionism, dry humping, word count: 3k... short and sweet

tagging: @xmiisuki @sunasbon @sugugasm <3

There was something clinical and plain about your office — though technically you were a type of doctor — the decor screamed hospital more than a comfortable place to tell your deepest darkest secrets. Faint pale blue walls with littered old stickers from the previous child therapist and even the stench of crayons … not to mention the floor tiles, squared with an iced blue paint that made the room both childish and clinical. Something fitting for a child hospital or even a former child psych ward.

That was the reason you decided for this particular appointment you’d switch rooms to somewhere more adult and that hopefully your boss would let you stay there. The pristine polished marble floors and white walls, two empty lush chairs and a small brown wooden table with magazines with two waters sitting on top. This was your dream room and one you felt you deserved. You were the most decorated person on your floor — top of your class in your undergrad and graduate class, internships at major places, yet you settled for here. Settled. It was smack dabbed in the middle of a city that needed you most. A dangerous city… but somewhere you felt like you could actually make a difference. 

Sitting in the chair towards the window you awaited for Sylus Qin – a name that sent more than enough shivers up your spine but who’s name spiked your curiosity, especially seeing it written for a first appointment directly with you. 

He walked in, his presence loud and alarming from the moment he stepped into the door, looking at you before he sat down in the seat closest to the door. You inhaled, the deep smell of metallic and what you must’ve guessed was gunpowder filled your nostrils. “You’re late,” You told him with a small smile. “And for your first appointment nevertheless.” Your tone is light and playful, you only hoped that he understood that. 

He arches a white brow and slouches back on the couch, it was obviously too small for his broad body and long legs but he still stretched them so they were nearing yours. “A meeting held me up.” He waited for some form of reaction before he looked away from you, probably now disappointed when your face remained blank.

You cleared your throat, “I’m quite sure that you didn’t come here on your own volition, so why are you here? I know that you of all people couldn’t have been forced.” You crossed your legs, watching his eyes glance at them.

“Two nuisances…” He grumbles, his face scrunched into a deadly scowl but his crimson eyes remain gentle as he looks at you. “It seems that I’ve been even more aggressive as of late.” He shrugs his shoulders as if he disagrees with the diagnosis. 

“Well… what made them come to that conclusion?” You watched him open his mouth to answer before he paused, thinking something. It takes a while before he speaks again and when he does he shocks you.

“What do I get if I answer any of your silly little questions…?” There’s a huskiness to his voice, a rough edge as he speaks. His eyes are trained on you, following you as your body sways a bit. 

You quirk a brow, “You want a reward for being…compliant?” You straighten your posture, looking at him with slightly wide eyes, it was the first time someone asked for something so ridiculous. “You tell me what you want—” You start before he interrupts you.

“Your panties.” Curt. Simple. Straightforward. You blinked, staring at this man and questioning how you managed to get yourself in this position. 

 Was the money worth it? That was the question roaming around your head as you just stared at him. How could he ask you such a thing with a serious face expression. “My panties? That would tempt you to answer the questions truthfully?” The skirt you were wearing felt a thousand times shorter and the room felt too warm for you to ignore the wetness you felt between your —

Your eyes twitched. A conversation alone, brief… and your panties were drenched, sticky to your folds. It would do wonders for your career to have gotten the man himself… the big leader of a malicious group to be less violence. So you sigh, “You want them now—”

“As an act of good faith,” He says smoothly. “Let’s put all our cards out on the table…How about you at least take them off so I know you’re being truthful to me.” 

You sucked your teeth, debating with yourself on if you really should do this or not. Your career is on the line regardless of each decision. You could just deny him, tell him off and force him out of your office. But your body seemed to be screaming at you to just do it. You hadn’t had sex nor a true orgasm in more than a year… possibly two and yet with him sitting in front of you, you felt as if you were close.

Your mouth no longer produces saliva and your throat dry as you slide them down your legs; you held them and watched a smirk take over his face. You couldn’t believe yourself honestly, this wasn’t something you’d ever expect yourself to do. While you weren’t exactly a good girl, you had standards… you couldn’t believe you were being so trashy. Yet the excitement in your body spilled out of your center and with his eyes glued there while you removed your underwear, your body shook.

“Already the air smells so better in here.” He chuckles and you feel embarrassment cloud your mind. “To answer your question from before… Apparently they believe I’m in a foul mood since I’ve been less tolerant on certain things that in the past, I was more passive on. They’ve expressed to me that with the rough ways I’ve been handling business has grown rather…impulsive.”

“Do you agree with that?” You recross your legs. “I’ve always heard that you were impulsive and honestly, I never heard anyone say you were passive… Do you think you’ve ever been passive? Do you think you can paint me a picture of yourself?”

He reaches out his hand and for a moment you’re confused before you realize he’s asking for his reward. Handing him the panties, you see him sniff them and it makes your insides quiver. This man… he was too much for you. 

“I see myself as…” He thinks, his eyebrows furrowed, he taps his foot on the ground. “I often find myself bored and find myself indulging in self destructive behavior... taking on more than I can and getting myself injured.” He scoffs. “I guess this particular time they're talking about is when I knew I was being set up but still decided to go alone without informing them - Luke and Kieran, I mean.”

“So they care about you?” You ask, mentally taking notes of every word and ever ounce of movement and even taking account of his voice and tone.

“Sure.” His voice has a slight tremble to it. “We’ve been together for longer than I can remember being without them…” Then he’s closed off again, acting as if he revealed too much to you. His crimson eyes trace up your legs again, he bites his lips.

You recrossed your legs. “Anyway…” You cough. “Is there a thrill in putting yourself in these situations? Or is there a need to demonstrate that your reputation is correct… to stop or limit people from defying you?” You are met with silence and a sinister glint in Sylus’ eyes. “Sylus? Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“I answered some for your panties. For this next question, you’ll have to do something else for me to answer it… unless you want a lie…or more silence.” His roaming eyes told you all that you needed to know, this request would be more.

A scowl on your face, “My panties weren’t enough?” You’re close to rolling your eyes at him, you want to hate him but it’s something in those eyes that keeps you from it. After this you knew that you’d decline any other visits from him, you might as well entertain him— no, you want to slap yourself for even thinking that thought. 

“I wanna see you cum, pet that pretty pussy and put a show on for me.” He says and you gasp, full blown as you stare at him. “C’mon kitten, don’t be so coy.” His eyes darkened but still his tone remained playful; slick gathered at your thighs and it’s almost as if he scented it with how quick his eyes snapped to your skirt.

“Sylus, the panties were already inappropriate enough. I can lose my license—” You stammer, your voice small and timid as you speak. This man… would be the death of you.

“I won’t let that happen.” 

You swallow, staring hard in his eyes. Looking in his eyes made you want to bend to his every whim and to continue. Your thighs spread a bit because honestly, you wanted this. “Fine.” You relinquished every ounce of self respect you had for yourself and spread your legs completely apart. A slap of cool air brushes against your bare skin, your shutter but spread your folds. You rub at your clit, staring in those addicting eyes. 

He drinks in the sight of you — dripping and oozing out spilling to the chair, he straightens himself, his eyes now locked between your thighs. Your clit is hard and throbbing knowing that his eyes are on your most delicate parts. You circle your entrance, collecting the slick that sits there before you dip it inside – teasing both you and him. You feel the warmth of yourself as you stroke your finger in and out of your walls, sloppy noises echoing around the room. Your thighs tremble and breathing heavy, he briefly glances at your face and back to the dripping sight below.  Your face scrunched up in a sense of pure ecstasy, you pop your finger out of your cunt and you put a finger in your mouth before rubbing your clit again, your thighs bucking and your hips humping upwards. 

His feet tap against the floor watching another finger join the one already knuckle deep inside of you, his fingers twitch looking at how wet and creamy your fingers are pumping in and out. “There’s a thrill… and excitement that comes with doing dangerous things…” His voice trails off, your mouth agape spilling little moans. “It feels good… it’s never a sense of pride, it’s more of a –” Using your other hand, you rub fast at your clit at the same time your fingers thrust inside deeper, hitting another spot that makes a bit of cream drip under you. “It’s more of a simple pleasure, just something to take the edge off of life. It’s a high… c’mon kitten, you’re killing me there. Need to see your face when you cum.” 

Your stomach sucks in at the words and you whine, leaking with a deep orgasm and deep breathing. “Ohhhhh!” Cream continues to spill out, you milk yourself more – curling your fingers before you pull them out with a drawn out moan. “Oh, mmm…” You feel so tired, your eyes dropping and a fuzzy brain when you turn your attention back on him. 

“What’s your next request for answering this last question?” You huff, your face flushed and your body trembling. You still tried to cover yourself but he just laughed, full and heartily. 

“I want you to sit on my face.” He’s hard, tapping his foot against the floor again still looking at your creamy pussy. “That’s all.”

“What?” But it shouldn’t surprise you anymore, no matter how much you fought on his demands… you knew you’d give in and you knew how badly you wanted him.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He said again, nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But… why? Are you trying to make me lose my job? Or are you just insane and don’t care about my livelihood or my dignity?” But really, it didn’t matter, with all you did now… your license was already revoked. 

“Would you rather be a good girl and sit on my lap? Grind yourself on my cock?” It was an enticing offer and you had to mentally stop yourself from taking it up. “Just keep being an obedient little girl like you have been and come sit on my face.” He’s pulling himself from the chair to lie on the floor with a bright smile on his lips. He waited, both of you already knew that you were going to come. 

“First... put your fingers in my mouth.” It makes you jump when he says that but you swallow your nerves and pride, reaching over and letting his tongue work its way through your fingers, his tongue slimy wet and sticky all at once. He groans out at the taste. “Sit.” He says simply. You’d never did this before, your legs trembled just standing above his head and even more when you bent down. 

You hovered over him, a string of your slick dripping over his face before he moved his head to capture it between his tongue with a groan; swirling his tongue in a circular motion as he took in the taste. “So wet…tastes so good.” His voice deep and inviting; sticking his tongue inside then flicks his tongue against your clit and wraps his mouth around it — sucking it before he releases it with a plop sound.  “Sit.” He told you, rubbing his hands across your ass, spreading it so that your pussy would wink at him with a small gushy sound. He firmly sits completely on his face so that his face is covered with you. 

His tongue feels like a thousand tongues when you drip over his face, grinding your hips and circling them. Your knees digging into the floor when you slide forward and back against him.“Sy–lus!” The pad of his tongue licks up your slit, moving to your folds and up to suckle on your throbbing clit. You tug his hair and he buries his face impossibly more into your pussy. Grinding and shaking his face into you before gripping your hips to make you really grind against his mouth.

You squeal with every moment as he uses his tongue to curl deep inside of you – your legs shaking and he slurps. Your toes curl inside of your stuffy shoes and though you can’t see his face because of the skirt you wear, you can feel the devilish smirk against your flesh.

He pulls you up, holds you. A string of his salvia and your slick and cream mixed together on his lips. “Never did ask that question, sweetie.”

“Oh, fuck you Sylus.” He’s sitting you back down, your thighs squeezing his head. His mouth latched to your clit and doing deep sucks with his fingers pressed deep in your thighs. Opening his mouth wider to truly capture all of what he can of your cunt — there’s a deep hunger in every lick he gives, his tongue dragging down from your clit to your slit and back up again. He laps at your folds with nothing else but groans and soft moans that leave both of your mouths.

His tongue swirls on your clit before small soft kisses that make you flinch. Cream and slick trickling down your thighs, your hips continue to hump him — it was as if his face belonged there, his tongue glued to your core and eating up everything you had to offer. Lifting you again, he says, “Want to feel that pretty pussy soaking me… you’d like that won’t you?” He grins, showing all his teeth. You’re quick to nod your head, tears in your eyes… this man was turning you into his plaything and you could care less… there was a thrill to this.

He doesn’t take off his pants much to your disappointment but he helps you to sit on his lap, his lust filled scarlet eyes filled with nothing but desire as he rolls his hips against yours. A small gasp leaves your mouth, your bare cunt soaking his pants and his cock deliciously digging into your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut, letting him thrust up against your throbbing center. 

Throwing your head back – you rock your hips back and forth against his clothed cock – feeling him press himself harder into you, rubbing himself against your core with deep throaty groans of pleasure leaving his mouth. You try to match his movements, hips bouncing up and down against him with needy whines leaving your lips. You both hiss when his cockhead brushes up against your clit – he rubs himself back and forth repeatedly, slowly while you move faster – chasing that high and in that moment you knew of the pleasure and the high that Sylus mentioned earlier because your body was reveling in it. 

Your stomach swoops at the sticky sounds that come from your pussy and the soft noises he makes. Even with soundproof office spaces, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard you both. Lazy grinding becomes thrusting again before downright dirty gyrating of both of you against each other – so close, you were almost there yet again. Pathetic sinful whimpers falling out of your mouth, he presses openmouthed kisses up and down your neck, nibbling on your clavicle. Your back arches, tears falling from your eyes, your pussy sliding against him and his hips stuttering. But he stops, standing you both up. 

“W–why’d you stop?” You’re gasping for air on trembling legs, he holds you close. Small sniffles leaving your mouth, desperate to feel him.

“I believe our time is up, sweetie. Maybe another visit will help unpack more.” He chuckles, walking towards the door. “I’ll return these on my next visit.”

[yuu-extended-yuuniverse]

Pokémon AU! (Yuu & Riddle)

Trainer looking at Grim: What kind of Pokémon is THAT???

Grim, offended: I'm not a Pokémon! I'm a TRAINER. Just you wait! I'll be the greatest Elite Four Champion ever! Myahahahaha!

Yuu: Does that make me the Pokémon in this relationship?

~*~

Riddle Rosehearts was the youngest trainer to ever become a gym leader in Twisted Wonderland, and remains one of the most ruthless.

Gym leader Riddle specializes in primarily fire type Pokémon! Which is why so many new challengers who come prepared with a full team of Water-types are so caught off guard when Riddle's partner Pokémon, Roserade, comes out! Who finishes them off with her signature move "Off With Your Head!"

Losers are enlisted to paint the hedge maze roses of the Heartslabyul gym to appear like Poké balls.

More headcanons and enlarged photos below:

Riddle

Heartslabyul is the first gym most new trainers encounter

It is situated in the same city as the trainer school, where Riddle enjoys tutoring on his days off

His partner Pokémon, Roserade, was gifted to him by a childhood friend (Trey) back when it was still a weak little Budew

Mrs. Rosehearts belongs to the ranks of Nurse Joys and originally wanted Riddle to study medicine. To everyone's shock, obedient young Rosehearts went on to become a formidable trainer and eventually declared, much to his mother's chagrin, his intention to become a gym leader and help new trainers

Riddle is still the youngest gym leader, at 18 years old

Despite his harsh exterior, many trainers still attribute much of their success to Leader Rosehearts' insistence on practicing the basics.

If you are strong and fortunate enough to ever challenge Riddle again, his fully trained 6 team includes Roserade, Ninetails, Flareon, Rapidash, Alolan Rapidash, and Shaymin.

When pressed, Riddle refuses to answer where he met a member of the elusive Shaymin Pokémon.

Riddle can often be found racing or playing polo at the Equestrian club, riding either of his Rapidashs.

Despite all the good he does, Riddle can often be too much of a stickler to the rules and unable to see outside-the-box

He first meets Yuu when he is kicking Ace and Deuce, two new trainers, out of his gym for trying to cheat their way through his hedge maze puzzle and disparaging the idea of going to trainer school, refusing to let them challenge him and effectively ending their dreams of challenging the elite four.

It is only after Yuu challenges him for Ace and Deuce's right to re-enter the gym, and uses both lessons Riddle preaches and unusual outside-the-box thinking to defeat him, that Riddle reconsiders his black and white view of the world.

He gives Ace and Deuce a second chance, on the expectation that they first go to trainer school for a week, and asks if Yuu would consider sharing their unique battling style with the students at the school (despite these techniques not being taught in any books)

In the end, all three, Ace, Deuce, and Yuu, earn their Heartslabyul badges, and Riddle wishes them luck at the next gym.

Yuu

No one quite knows where this trainer came from.

All anyone knows is that they showed up out of nowhere with a talking feline Pokémon no Pokédex recognizes, named Grim.

For whatever reason, Team STYX keeps trying to capture Grim for some nefarious purpose.

But despite Yuu's unimposing figure and having just recently started their journey, they are actually a very formidable trainer and have managed to battle off every one of Team STYX's attempts.

Yuu meets Ace and Deuce while the two of them are being kicked out of Heartslabyul gym and a fast friendship is formed.

Ace declares that they are all rivals now, but they still travel together from city to city.

To Ace and Deuce's horror, Yuu seems to enjoy sleeping over in abandoned and haunted houses on their journey

Ghost Pokémon seem to particularly like Yuu

Yuu sometimes runs into an interesting person during their travels, a man they have nicknamed Tsunotaro

Tsunotaro seems to always show up whenever Team STYX is getting up to no good, and helps Yuu battle them off and clear out various Team STYX bases of operation throughout Twisted Wonderland.

Ace and Deuce have never met this mysterious Tsunotaro, but if they did they would be shocked to discover that he is actually Malleus Draconia, Twisted Wonderland's infamous and terrifying Elite Four Champion

But to Yuu he's just Tsunotaro, a weird but nice guy who seems to think fighting off a crime syndicate together counts as a date

[writingoddess1125]

You Give them Face Mask! 🧼

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Usopp, Buggy, Mihawk

Fluffy Fluff

Just felt like more Fluff Fluff rn 😌 Enjoy!

Luffy

Trying to get this man into a face mask is like trying to wash a puppy- A happy struggle and pain in the ass.

"Luffy please" You say with a sad eyes- He will fold after this and let you. However he doesn't sit still so you use a sheet mask that simply helps with oily skin.

"This smells nice" He will say as you have to bribe him with snacks to keep it on for 15 minutes.

"It's rose scented" You say and wear one yourself to keep him still with some gummy candies. Will have trouble sitting still and will start chatting and walking in circles as he waits.

Once it's over he rubs his shiny face and talks about how squeaky he sounds. Utterly destroying your work-

Sanji

Sanji is more then willing to indulge you. Picking out some mild scents and you do a peel off mask since he has deep pores.

"Wanna do the charcoal mask?" You offer which he accepts after finding the scent pleasant enough.

"Do people do these often?" He will flirt and talk about the curiosities in your self care. Once the mask is done he will complain about the tightness.

"That means it's ready to peel!!"

"AHHH! OW!!?" He yelps in surprise as you pull the mask off his face. His face bright red and raw from this so you add some water based moisturizer to his face. You show him the mask.

"That was in my face!?"

Will both be disgusted and fascinated by the amount of gunk pulled from his skin.

Zoro

His skin is fairly flawless which is honestly frustrating since he cares so little for his skin.

You offer the face mask anyway and he refuses for a while bit does eventually fold. You use a snail slime mask on him since it will keep him skin looking flawless.

"This smells funny..." He grumbles as he will lay there listening to you talk, Half asleep and waiting. Will open his eye occasionally and ask a few questions about your interest in this stuff.

You wipe it off and help him rince his face. Skin is pretty much glowing at this point and You stare in awe. "So pretty!"

"I'm going to go train now-" You scream at him in protest in trying to ruin his pretty face.

Usopp

Usopp is willing of course, since the ocean air drys his skin quite a lot. So you use a shea butter face mask and tap his skin with your fingers to help it soak in his rough skin.

"You know I once got a spa treatment from Mermaids like this-' He will spin his tales as You work. When you do rince off the mask you add some nice skin oils afterwards to his skin.

You rub a lot of oil in his skin and he will pause his stories as he judt enjoys the time. Will smell the jar you're using and a softness will run over his face in fondness.

"This smells like the stuff my mother used to use-" He will say with a smile. His skin looks shiny and golden by the time your done, making him look sexy- in his own words.

Will come back regularly to have you treat his skin and will even talk about stories with his mother from time to time.

Buggy

Grease paint wrecks havoc on one's skin Buggys especially since he wears it so much. Needs some detoxing clay mask then a aloe moisture one to replenish. If you're doing his face might as well deep condition his hair as well.

He does enjoy the attention and doing them since his face feels better. Secretly he actually has acne marks from his youth and some scars from before he ate a devil fruit.

"What was this one from?" You ask pointing to a light scar on his cheek.

"Hmm 10- Me and Shanks were trying to figure out blades better. Let's say I learned knives can bounce back at you-" He says amused and letting you work.

"The skin around your nose is dry" Buggy will frown, thinking you're about to insult him since even though he trust you the most his insecurities will win- till you carefully paint the mask on those areas and smile proudly.

"There we go, all better" You say and kiss his hand to go apply your own.

Will sit and listen to you read outloud or talk with him about show ideas as he lays there with the face mask.

"Can we do this every night?"

Mihawk

"No-" He will protest, his eyes narrowing as you offer the mask to him. However after enough begging and ever Perona joining in at pestering him he will fold.

Mihawk gets treated to a full spa day when this happens- A hydrating honey facemask on his skin, cucumbers on his eyes and even a hair mask in his hair to make it softer.

Perona is overjoyed as well as she cleans his nails and applies clear polish to make them shiny and nice! Grumbles the whole time silently and ends up Downing a bottle of wine.

"Do not get used to this-" He grumbles as he takes his wine and drinks from it as you and Perona work. He kinda looks like a spa mom-

Once done this man looks runway ready- His hair is much softer so sets lower, his skin flawless and even his beard looks nicer. Stares at you and Perona deadpanned and sighs-

"Thank you both for the nice gesture..."

[nadvs]

out of bounds (part two)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

» part one

» masterlist

Your footsteps fall in and out of rhythm with Zach’s as you walk over the soccer field.

Even under the inky night sky, you can easily make out the sharp white lines spray-painted on the pitch as he stands across from you, your back to the net.

As a center back, this is where you spend most of your time in a game, defending directly in front of the goal. You used to love the nerves you’d feel before a match, but by the final month of the school year, you’d start every game already waiting for it to end.

You hope you can fix that this summer. And Zach is the perfect person to practice against since his main objective in his position is scoring.

He picked up a soccer ball from a storage shed on the way over, tossing it in his hands. You wonder if he offers to help all the newbies work on their game or if it’s just you.

“I don’t know if you know this,” you say, “but the ball’s supposed to be on the ground.”

“Most people say thank you when someone does them a favor,” he jokes, dropping the ball and dribbling it between his feet.

“I think you need to actually do the favor first,” you reply.

Zach smirks. He’s always been the type to chase the feeling of fun, and right now, he enjoys how easy things are with you.

He kicks the ball to you, and you stop it under your foot.

“Don’t go easy on me,” you say. “I’m serious.”

Zach sighs with a smile.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… my sister says that to me all the time,” he says. The memory makes his chest pinch. This is the hardest part of being at camp for seven weeks. It’s only been one day and he misses his family already.

At least when he’s at college, he can visit whenever he wants, but at camp, it’s a no go.

“Does she play soccer, too?” you ask. The ball scruffs over the grass when you kick it back to him.

“No, Avery hates sports,” he says. “It’s when we play video games. She kicks my ass and she tells me to stop letting her win when I’m genuinely trying my hardest. It’s embarrassing.”

“How old is she?”

“Ten.”

You smile. It’s sweet that he spends time with his kid sister.

“And she beats you? That is embarrassing.”

He kicks the ball to you with a chuckle.

“So, she’s not interested in coming here?” you ask, considering Camp Summit is for kids in her age range.

“No chance,” he says. He asks about your family and you continue to chat about your home life while kicking the ball back and forth until you eventually decide to do what you came out here for.

“You ready?” he asks, heading backwards a few steps.

“Give me your worst.”

Zach jogs towards you, expertly kicking the ball with every stride, approaching you quickly. You keep your eyes trained on his movements and the ball, reading the opponent’s body like you always do.

You shift between your feet quickly, trying to gain possession. He side-steps and fakes right, but you notice it in the way he’s positioned, and you take the window of opportunity to steal the ball.

You succeed and rush past him, then turn to smile at him, locking the ball under your foot.

“Jeez,” Zach says, hands on his hips. “Nice one.”

“Stop,” you laugh, convinced he’s just trying to flatter you.

“How’d you catch my fake-out?”

“It’s all in your body language,” you say. You kick the ball to him.

“So, you’re looking at my body,” he says, his tone sarcastically suggestive.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you laugh, heading to where you were standing originally to reset.

“Too late.” He rushes back to the center of the field.

Your cheeks go warm. He wouldn’t risk dating at work. It’s against the rules. You could both lose your jobs.

But what’s the harm in flirting? He seems to like to do it with you just as much as you do it with him.

Zach jogs towards you again and you turn with him slightly, closing the distance once he comes close enough, mirroring him as he darts over the grass.

“It’s good that you don’t dive in right away,” he says between breaths. “I always get past defenders when they rush me.”

“Are you trying to distract me with flattery?” you ask.

“If it’s working, yeah,” he replies.

You laugh and continue to jockey, both of you moving with sharp, fast movements as he shuffles with the ball.

It’s a struggle, but eventually, he gets past you, sending the ball flying in the net.

“One-one,” he says. “You really made me work for it, though, huh?”

As you watch Zach run to grab the ball out of the net, you’re taken by how kind he is. Even after he gets a ball past you, he compliments you.

You refocus when he resets and jogs down the field towards you again. As the night goes on, you start to feel comfortable enough to make contact with each other, brushing arms and legs.

You stop keeping score, but it feels pretty equal by the time you’re huffing from all the exercise.

“You good to call it?” he asks, looking down at you as he pants after you steal the ball from him yet again.

“Yeah. I think that was more than ten minutes.”

His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he smiles. He completely forgot he was out here with you, under a time limit, all because he was waiting for his friend to escort yours out of his cabin.

“I noticed something you do,” he says as you walk off the field together, taking turns kicking the ball far ahead of you. “You kind of give up when you think you won’t win the ball.”

“Why waste the energy?” you respond with a tired laugh. You check your phone to see that it’s almost 10:30.

“My coach always tells us that you have to believe that you’ll win every tackle,” Zach says. “It seems like you tell yourself you might as well stop trying.”

You consider his words. It’s true. It’s a bad habit you’ve picked up in the past year, a result of your dwindling confidence. And he’s a sharp player for catching that weakness.

Zach watches you, afraid he might have offended you.

“I hope I didn’t - that wasn’t out of line, was it?”

“No, no,” you say. “You’re totally right. Thanks. It’s helpful.”

You reach the dirt path, approaching the storage shed. He puts the ball away and joins you again as you make your way towards the staff cabins in the humid night.

“Gotta be honest,” he says, thinking back to what you said by the fire, “I’m surprised you’re not confident in your game.”

“My team doesn’t do that well,” you admit. It feels like you’re constantly ruminating over last season’s win/loss ratio.

“And what, that’s your fault?” he asks.

“I am usually the last one the other team crosses before scoring,” you say with a shrug.

“Actually, the goalie is.”

“No, she’s great,” you reply. “It’s not on her.”

Zach snorts.

“What?”

“You don’t blame her, but you blame yourself,” he says. “Makes sense.”

You nudge his firm shoulder. The contact is brief and playful and you’re comfortable doing it now considering you got so close on the field.

Zach nudges you back, touching you as if he always does. As if you didn’t just meet today.

“You mad I’m right?” he says.

“A little,” you reply with a small smile.

You reach your cabins. The shirt on his door is gone. It seems like your cabin-mates are back to their respective beds.

“Yeah, I’m still knocking very loudly just in case,” Zach says.

“Good call,” you laugh, heading towards your cabin. “Thanks again for the help.”

“Any time,” he says. You hope he means it.

Ami’s sitting up in her bed when you come through the door.

“Hey,” she says, “I’m surprised the bonfire went that long.”

“It didn’t,” you reply. “I was out practicing defense with Zach. Because his cabin was occupied.”

Ami grins. After she gives you a recap of her time with Malcolm, which she says went no further than heavy making out, she turns the attention back to you.

“How was practice?” she says. “If that’s what actually happened.”

“It is,” you laugh. “Great. He’s really good.”

“At what?” she asks suggestively.

“At soccer,” you laugh again. “We honestly just practiced. And even if he’s into me like that, he seems serious about the no dating rule. I wouldn’t risk it, either. I don’t know what you’re planning with Malcolm but apparently they’re actually strict about it, so be careful.”

“I will, but I’m not worried. We talked about how we’ll only be casual. And discreet. You be careful, too, okay?”

“Nothing to be careful about,” you say with a shrug.

“So, if Zach asked you out, you wouldn’t be down?”

Truthfully, you’re not sure you’d be able to resist dating him, even if it had to be in secret. Zach is impossible not to like.

“It’s not happening,” you simply reply.

Just like every other year, welcoming campers the next morning is havoc. Zach feels a sense of pride when he sees a familiar face, another kid who loved this place so much that they wanted to come back.

After the campers are directed to their cabins, orientation is held at the dining hall, followed by breakfast.

Voices bounce loudly around the hall as kids dig into their food, every counselor sitting at the head of the table with their cohorts.

He makes conversation, asking his boys questions to encourage them to talk with each other. His eyes flit up to you every so often, hoping he doesn’t get caught staring.

You’re sitting a few tables away, smiling as you chat. He almost can’t believe how much fun he had with you on the pitch under the stars last night.

Things are just so simple with you. He doesn’t have to think about what to say, because he knows you’ll play along or just laugh at his dorky joke. He likes you. A lot.

The rest of the day is dedicated to games across the campground, with training scheduled to start tomorrow. At one point, you ask over the walkie-talkies if anyone knows where extra flags for a game are kept.

Zach replies to check the top shelf of one of the storage sheds. You thank him and even though all he does is say You got it, newbie over the radio, you think about the way he said it for much longer than you would if it were anyone else.

Lunch goes by quickly, followed by more games. Throughout the day, Zach has noticed that one of his new campers, Oliver, has kept to himself. He tried to talk with him every so often, but he just got one-word answers.

So, when Oliver approaches him before Zach blows his whistle to signal the start of the last game of the day, he’s hopeful that he’ll ask about the game and finally show some interest in camp.

“I don’t want to do this game,” the little boy says. “I’m tired.”

It’s disappointing, but Zach doesn’t want to push him. Some kids just need time.

“That’s okay,” Zach says. “You can go sit in the shade. No pressure.”

Half an hour later, everyone goes to the dining hall for dinner.

While he eats, Zach is already exhausted and regrets volunteering to do one of the overnight shifts the first day. Every night, four counselors are scheduled to sleep in one of the four camper cabins, so that campers aren’t ever left without supervision.

It’s a guarantee of a bad sleep. Kids are always way too excited to do anything but talk to each other in their bunks on the first night, having to be reminded over and over that yes, even whispering counts as talking.

But Zach has always hated disappointing people, so he couldn’t risk letting down his aunt and uncle by not volunteering. He has the longest tenure of any other counselor here. He needs to set a good example.

After dinner, the kids are given free time before lights out, free to either hang out in their cabins or by the campfire. This gives some of the staff a moment to congregate by the dock, offering the perfect spot to keep an eye on campers without being heard by them.

It’s just past dusk as you stand by the boarded walkway leading into the shallow waters, looking out to your cohort of campers around the fire. You hear Zach ask about how the first day has been.

You look over to see him chatting with a couple of other counselors, a big smile on his face. It’s a good reminder that he’s simply a friendly guy and might not even be into you like that.

But when his eyes land on you and his smile gets a little wider, your heart refuses to agree with your mind. He must feel something, too.

Zach shifts closer to you, crossing his arms. His biceps bulge under his t-shirt. You quickly tear your gaze off of his muscles and up to his blue eyes.

“You surviving?” he asks.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Don’t know. Some people just don’t have what it takes.”

“You’re so much nicer to the other counselors,” you tease, looking down and shaking your head.

Zach feels himself blush, tense that you’re calling him out for brazenly flirting with you. But when your eyes flitter back to his, he can tell by your innocent smile that you don’t have any intention to embarrass him.

“It’s all an act,” he says. You laugh and cross your arms, mirroring him. “Your kids getting along?”

“I think so,” you say. “They already have their little cliques.”

“Yeah, that happens,” Zach says. He looks out to the campfire and you catch his smile slowly fade, his strong jaw tensing.

“How about yours?” you ask.

“Got one who seems like he really doesn’t want to be here at all,” he admits.

You follow his eye-line to the boy sitting on the steps of a camper cabin, staring down at the book in his hands as he reads under the porch light.

“Usually with those kids, it just takes a few hours and they settle in,” he says, “but I don’t know. I’ll give it another try.”

Sure enough, when Zach crosses the distance and asks Oliver what he’s reading, he answers with the title, then ducks his head to quickly back to reading.

You notice from far away, confident that if you were close enough, you would see disappointment on Zach’s face.

The next morning, Zach is even more tired than he expected. The overnight shift was full of interruptions. He’s sure he’ll sleep like a rock tonight.

As everyone sits in the dining hall for breakfast, you dig into your food, listening to your campers talk to each other.

Then, your eyes drift over to Zach. You realize he was already looking at you. It makes your stomach go numb. He quickly glances away.

You notice that the same kid he talked about last night is sitting at the end of the table, alone, picking at his food. Considering how helpful Zach has been, and simply because you like him, you decide to see what you can do.

Near the end of breakfast, campers begin to clear off and put away their plates, and you walk over and crouch at the end of Zach’s table.

The boy looks up at you with an unreadable expression. You introduce yourself, pointing to your name-tag, asking him his name.

“Oliver,” he says, looking back down. You notice he hardly ate anything.

“How are you liking camp?” you ask quietly. Your eyes dart up to look at Zach at the other end of the table. His lips quirk into a hint of a smile.

“I’m not,” he answers.

“Is there anything that would make you feel better?” you offer.

“Leaving,” he says. You stifle your frown.

“Besides that,” you reply. “And you can be totally honest.”

“The food here sucks,” he mumbles. You look down at the uneaten pancake he’s pushing around with his fork.

“What if we got better pancakes?” you ask.

“I don’t want pancakes,” he replies. “I want waffles.”

“Waffles,” you say with a smile, glad you at least got an answer. You stand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Oliver looks up at you with surprised eyes. Something tells you that he isn’t used to being asked what he wants and actually getting it.

You head back to your table to rally your girls, but you find Zach before counselors start leading their groups outside.

“You said you had connections, right?”

Zach turns to see you standing behind him, trying to ignore the fact that his stomach flips when he makes eye contact with you.

“Yeah,” he says. Campers rush around you as you stand by the front door of the dining hall.

“If you can sneak in some waffles, I think Oliver might like it a little better here,” you say.

“He told you that?” he asks.

“No, I’m a mindreader,” you tease. “Yes, he told me that.”

Zach smirks as you turn away to rush back to your group. He can’t stop smiling even after you’re gone.

It’s a long, hot day. You were disappointed when you saw the schedule this morning, because while you like all the vets, you had hoped Zach would be one of the counselors you’d be paired with for drills today. Maybe tomorrow.

All afternoon, your walkie kept crackling and losing signal. You mention it to one of the directors, Ruby, when you see her by the main office and she promises to get you a new one soon.

After the campers go to bed, you head back to your cabin, expecting to see Ami. But her bed is empty. You double-check the schedule in the staff group chat to confirm she isn’t one of the overnight shifts tonight.

You figure she’s hanging out somewhere else on the campground. You settle in for the evening with a shower, then get into your pajamas and decide to do some skincare and self-pampering.

Zach lets out a tired, heavy sigh when he sees Malcolm’s text. He exits the dining hall and steps into the thick night air, rereading the message from his cabin-mate.

Ami’s over. I’ll text when she’s gone.

He just came back from the closest grocery store specifically to buy as many boxes of frozen waffles as he could carry after he got the okay from his aunt. He used up all the freezer space he could find in the dining hall kitchen and now, he just wants to lie in his bed.

He’s not sure what to do. He’s never been that confrontational at work, preferring to keep the peace, but if this becomes a habit of Malcolm’s this summer, he’ll have to say something to him.

He heads towards his cabin, just in case his best friend texts in the meantime. He doesn’t.

Before he can turn around to go sit by the lake to kill time, he notices the light spilling out from behind the edges of the blinds on your cabin window.

Maybe you’d like to keep him company like you did the other night. Without much more thought, he knocks on your door.

When you open it, you’re in pajamas, your hair wet from the shower, pink gel strips under your eyes.

Zach smiles, thinking you look adorable and wishing he could say it out loud.

“Hey,” you say. You notice he’s still in his work clothes, even though lights out for campers was over an hour ago. “What’s up?”

“I was, um… I was gonna see if you wanted to hang out,” he says, holding up his phone. “I just got the text version of the shirt on the doorknob.”

You laugh and quickly clue in that Ami is with Malcolm next door.

“So, that’s where she is,” you say. “Come in. We can hang out here.”

When the door shuts behind Zach, you wonder if he also feels the weight of the privacy you two have now. This is different from being out on the pitch the day you met. There’s no chance of anyone seeing you behind your closed cabin door. It’s intimate. Almost risky.

“How was your day?” you ask, sitting on your bed as Zach settles on the chair tucked under your desk.

You’re trying to act casual and relaxed, but it’s hard to when you meet his eyes. He’s too cute not to get shy around.

“Well, I just went into town to buy like, ten boxes of Eggos,” he tells you. “That’s a first.”

“Did you really?”

“I thought it’d only be fair if I got enough for my whole group,” he explains. “Turns out we don’t have a waffle maker, but we do have toasters, so it was the best I could do.”

“Nice,” you say. “I’m glad the kitchen staff were cool with it.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I’m actually sneaking in the kitchen tomorrow morning to make them. The cooks have more than enough work, so as long as I don’t get in their way, I think I’m good.”

You still for a second, endeared. You knew he’d make an effort to help Oliver feel welcome, but he’s going to all these lengths just to make a kid happy?

“Anyway, my point is, thanks for the intel,” he says, realizing he’s tiredly rambling. “I appreciate you talking to him.”

You bashfully glance away. He tries not to stare at you. It feels like trying not to stare at you is all he does when he’s around you.

He’s damn near enamored. He likes the smell of your shampoo, the way you look in your pajamas, how sweet your smile is. He hopes his nervousness isn’t obvious.

“No problem,” you say. “So, you haven’t been in your cabin at all since lights out?”

Zach shakes his head, his smile not quite meeting his eyes. He’s clearly tired and bothered by his cabin-mate kicking him out of his room. You wonder if he’ll say anything to Malcolm, but for his sake, you decide to keep the atmosphere light.

“I have a lot of these,” you offer, pointing to the under-eye strips on your face. “You wanna try? It’ll help you relax.”

“Is it that obvious that I need to relax?” he says.

You only smile in response and stand to pick up a stack of multi-colored packets of gel strips from the basket on your dresser and hold them out to him.

Zach’s eyes travel over the colorful array, sitting still as you stand over him. You’re not surprised that he’s actually going along with it.

Some guys would be tense, acting like skin-care is feminine, and therefore, embarrassing, but he’s relaxed and nothing but green flags, like usual.

“Lots of options here,” he says pensively.

“Are you always this indecisive?” you tease after a long moment of quiet.

Zach looks up and pretends to glare, but the dimples framing his stifled smirk give him away.

“You mad I’m right?” you echo his words from last night.

“A little,” he says, just like you did. You got him pegged. He’s always been bad at making choices, especially under pressure.

“I can pick for you.”

“Bossy,” he replies. “But, yeah. Pick. Please.”

You laugh and randomly choose a packet, opening the purple packaging for him and holding out the film. He takes it in his hand, looking at it with furrowed brows.

You decide to help him out. It’s what a friend would do.

“Here,” you say softly, pushing down your nerves. Warm eyes meet yours and you try to act composed. You peel off one of the strips, pressing it up just above his cheekbone. His skin is hot, his stare strong.

You step a little closer, focus etched onto your face, the corners of your lips slightly turned up. As you apply the other strip, your legs brush against his knees and he imagines how nice it’d feel to drag his hands up the backs of your thighs.

You’re so close and so pretty that it almost hurts not to touch you how he’d like to. You’re just as flirty with him and he’s sure you’d want his hands on you like that, but he’d ask before doing it. That is, if you weren’t coworkers.

You can’t help but giggle when you step back to look at him.

“What, is purple not my color?” Zach asks.

“No, it totally is,” you reply. “Keep them on until they feel dry.”

You settle in your bed again, your back pressed against the wall, legs stretched out.

“How was your day?” he says, having to clear his throat. “I never asked.”

“Yeah, you didn’t. Rude.” Zach smiles at your joke. “It was good. My first overnight shift is tomorrow. How was it last night? Did you actually get any sleep?”

“Not really,” he admits. “But the first night is always the roughest. You’ll be fine.”

He fails to stifle a yawn. You figure that after a bad sleep, a busy day, and running an errand in town, he must be exhausted. Once again, like it always does with Zach, your curiosity is too strong to ignore.

“Does this bother you?” you ask, vaguely motioning in the direction of his cabin.

Right now, Zach doesn’t mind Malcolm keeping him out because it means time with you. And while he’d normally say something like that openly, never having been one to shy away from sharing thoughts like these with a girl he likes, the stakes are so much higher right now.

Because dating is against the rules. Because you might reject him. Because he’s actually never been this nervous around a girl before.

“It’s okay,” he simply says. You wonder if he’s just not one to stand up to people.

“I can talk to Ami if it becomes a problem,” you tell him. “I won’t say you said anything, but let me know if you want me to mention it.”

Before he can reply, there’s a knock on your door. You answer it to see Ruby standing at your front step holding out a new walkie.

“Hey,” she says. “Sorry you had tech issues today. We can swap.”

“Oh, perfect,” you say. “It’s no problem. Thank you.”

Zach freezes when he sees his aunt. This looks like… well, it could simply look like two friends hanging out. But it might look like more.

As you take the new walkie and cross your small cabin to exchange it for your malfunctioning one, Ruby catches Zach’s gaze and offers him a genuine but confused smile.

He decides to try to act normal, even though he feels like he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“She’s not going to get in trouble for breaking it?” Zach jokes, pointing to you.

“I didn’t break it,” you reply with a laugh as you hand the old walkie to your boss. “I’m not in trouble, though, am I?”

“Nope,” Ruby says lightheartedly. Zach nervously chews the inside of his cheek. Her tone could mean that while you’re not in hot water, he is.

He watches you shut the door. It’s not like you got caught hooking up. But he wouldn’t even be able to explain what he’s doing here. It would mean snitching on his best friend for breaking one of the major rules staff need to follow.

A rule that it looks like he’s breaking. His stomach twists. He always hated disappointing authority figures, especially ones he so badly wants to impress.

When you settle on your bed again, you notice Zach peeling off the gel strips, his lips in a firm line.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Thanks for these.”

“Sure. Doesn’t seem like they relaxed you, though.”

Zach tosses the patches in the wastebasket and stands. Your heart sinks when you realize he’s leaving.

“They did. I just wanna lie down,” he says with a soft chuckle, hoping he’s not being terse. “I’m beat.”

“You can rest here while you wait for-”

“No, it’s alright,” he interrupts, heading for the door. You realize his whole demeanor has shifted after Ruby popped by.

Zach looks over his shoulder to see your features drawn in confusion and sadness. He opens his mouth before the words come to him seconds later.

“Sorry,” he says. “It was fun hanging out with you.”

“You, too,” you reply, your smile erasing the hurt on your face. You want to tell him he’s welcome any time, but he leaves in a rush.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking or maybe he’s simply a nice person, but you’re sure you both feel the magnetism between you.

And he must be really freaked out at the thought of you doing something about it, based on how stiff he got after Ruby came by, possibly suspecting that things are more than friendly between you.

The more time you spend together, the thinner the ice you’re skating on gets. You don’t want to risk the fall and cost you both your jobs.

So, as you get up to brush your teeth, you promise yourself that no matter what, you’ll keep things strictly professional. For your sake and Zach’s.

(part three)

divider credit

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[petalsonmoon]

you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon.

"it's ridiculous." then he leaned his body foward, his fingers meeting his toes. an elongation you would take embarrasingly months to be able to do that flawlessly.

"and really fucking stupid" he proceeds his thoughts.

"oh please, do go on." you look down to your notes and continue to write your ridiculous ideas.

the sun was far too bright and where its glow met the leaves of the large number of trees around you they were gleaming, like they were immensely happy.

"i hope your little notebook accidently burns to ashes."

"kind of you to say accidently."

"yeah no problem at all"

you glance up to find that he has his knee bended to his chest and quickly look back to the pen in your hand. quite misteriously your hands are stained from it.

"you making the walking sleeping bag one too?" his voice is raspy and angry and very clear. how does he sound so good while doing post training stretching?

perhaps you're looking too much into it. your crush makes you a bit giddy, idiotic in a lot of senses. makes you feel a child just like the word itself is infant. crush.

you sigh heavyly.

"still deciding" you draw a little explosion on the corner of the page.

"might as well do it for class b too."

"if i got a penny for every dramatic sentence that came out of your mouth-"

he had his back to you but he insisted on turning his head to you to send you the most chilling glare for exactly 3 seconds. that's his stupidity. his eyes were already too pretty in your eyes for you to feel an ounce of that anger.

"-only today i'd have like," you scrunch your nose "the amount of money equivalent to the ferocity of all might's powers."

he doesn't bother to look at you again and you smile.

"would you look at that. i should look for the person with this quirk."

he growls. loud. and you're smile is genuine.

he sits up straight, his back to you and starts leisurely move his neck. that's the sign he's almost done.

"putting too much money for those idiots.”

"it's not that much" you reason. "don't feel that way for too long, you're getting one too."

with that, it's over.

he turns to you and when those red eyes meet yours the trees are for sure shinning somewhat brighter.

the response for your affirmation it's a furrow between his eyebrows. his skin glowing a bit but that's not your absurd heart speaking, it's just his sweat.

"uhum" now you're messing with the grass. it estabilizes you. "yours is actually the only one that i drew and painted myself. the other ones i made with suna from the support course"

an ant crawled into your point finger.

"but don't tell them that." you whisper.

the ant made it to your pulse when you feel a literal body falling on top of you.

"you motherfucker! you are drenched-"

"that shitty little brain of yours-" his face on your neck. his words and breathing warming your whole body. you are exploding on the inside. how ironic.

"-and your stupid handmade keychains for the whole class" and then he lighly bites where your neck meets your shoulder.

his hands trails your arms, his fingers are burning pathways in your skin until they meet your hands and they interlock with your fingers. then he finally lifts his head and looks at you and what you're feeling is something words can't understand.

"i was gonna wait until graduation."

"tomorrow, you mean."

he bites your chin and you're so fucking certain you'll melt any second now. "because of that fucking tone i'm going to burn all of your little gifts."

you smile at him trying to match his damn audacity. his charm? his mind blowing handsomeness? "i'll murder you."

you blink and feel his breath on your neck again. "do it now, cupcake." then. his maddening warm and soft lips leaves a kiss under your earlobe. you close your eyes. "you have the power to."

"don't wait until tomorrow."

he lifts his head again and there's a smirk with a softness in the corner of it on his face. "or?"

"i might die." you whisper. it is serious to you. you need his lips on yours this very second. with his eyes on yours, telling you every adoration you thought about him for the last couple of months before going to bed, you think might. actually. die.

"who's the dramatic one now, brat?"

[logos0]

Through the Storm

You had always hated storms. Not the ones outside—the crashing thunder and relentless rain were oddly comforting—but the ones that raged inside your mind. They brewed at inconvenient times, bringing doubt, anxiety, and an unbearable weight you could never fully describe. Being with Leah had always been your calm in the chaos, but lately, even she felt like a ship lost in the swell.

The rift started small—a disagreement over her schedule, a misunderstanding about a missed call. Leah was always busy. Between her training sessions and commitments to the England squad, it sometimes felt like you were just another appointment she pencilled in. You tried not to let it bother you, and at first it worked, but as time passed, you could not push down your frustration. Your feelings no longer simmered under the surface but started bubbling over at the worst moments.

It all came to a head one night after her return from an away game. You hadn’t seen her in weeks, nor had you been able to call her, and while you wanted to savour her presence, the frustration you’d been holding in came spilling out instead.

"You’re never here, Leah," you said, your voice trembling with both anger and sadness. "I get that football’s your life, but am I even part of it anymore?"

She stood in the doorway, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, exhaustion painted across her face. "Of course, you are," she replied, her tone sharp with defensiveness. "You think I don’t miss you when I’m gone? You think this is easy for me?"

"Well, it doesn’t feel like it," you shot back, tears welling in your eyes. "You come home, and it’s like… I’m just a stopover before the next big thing. Like I’m not enough."

Leah dropped her bag and stepped closer, but you turned away, wiping your eyes furiously. "Don’t say that," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You’re everything to me."

"Then why doesn’t it feel like it?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Leah stood frozen, her eyes searching yours for something she couldn’t find. Those eyes which had pulled you into a ban so long ago and now were tormenting you. "I don’t know how to fix this," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

And just like that, the storm between you grew too wild to tame. Leah left that night, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the sound of rain pounding against the window.

The days that followed were agonizing. Leah texted you sporadically, but the messages felt hollow, as though she was trying to bridge a gap that words alone couldn’t mend. You left most of them unanswered, unsure of what to say—or if you even wanted to.

Until one night, a week later, when your phone buzzed with a message that was different from the rest.

Leah: I’m outside. Please, just… let me talk.

You hesitated, your heart battling between wanting to see her and wanting to stay angry. But the thought of her standing outside in the cold, waiting for you, tugged at your resolve. With a sigh, you grabbed a coat and opened the door.

Leah was there, drenched from the rain, her usually confident demeanour replaced with a vulnerability that caught you off guard. That reminded you of times long past. She looked at you with those piercing eyes, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

"I know I’ve hurt you," she began, her voice steady but soft. "And I’ve spent the past week trying to figure out how to make it right. But the truth is, I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that I can’t lose you."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing with each word. "Leah… I just feel so invisible sometimes. Like you’re here, but not really here. As if I am just another appointment, a chore."

She nodded, stepping closer. "I know. And you’re right—I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve let football take over everything, and I thought… I thought you’d be okay with that because you’re so strong. But I didn’t realize how much I was taking you for granted."

Her words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying. Leah reached for you, hesitating for a split second before pulling you into her arms. You let yourself melt into her, the warmth of her embrace cutting through the chill of the rain.

"I’m sorry," she whispered into your hair. "For everything. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not enough, because you are. You’re more than enough. You’re my everything."

You pulled back just enough to look at her, her face inches from yours. "I don’t need you to have all the answers," you said quietly. "I just need to know that you’re willing to try."

Leah nodded, her expression serious. "I’ll try every day for the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes."

Her lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant, as if she were asking for permission to fix what had been broken. You kissed her back, the storm inside you finally beginning to settle.

The rain continued to fall, but for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again. Leah was here, and so were you—together, ready to weather whatever came next.

[holllandtrash]

haunted | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 2 to fragile line)

Can't breathe whenever you're gone Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

you're racing. daniel isn't, but he's not gone either, is he? word count: 7.6k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: angst really, more incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps again, platonic love all around, not as big of a rollercoaster as part 1 but just wait till part 3 lol

“Do you know?”

“Do I know what?” You asked, wondering why that was the first thing your teammate said when you opened the door to your flat. 

Lando didn’t even bother with a ‘hey, how was your day, what’s up’, he was just straight to the point, only you had no idea what the point was. 

He was still on a high after coming in second place the other day, so you let the impoliteness slide. Usually Lando didn’t look like a mix between a sweaty mess and a confused child, but you assumed he was like this because whatever was on his mind was important.

“You haven’t- did you-” Lando stammered over his words. “When’s the last time you checked your phone?”

You felt around in your pockets and glanced over your shoulder with a bit of a shrug. If you were being honest, you hadn’t looked at your phone in a few hours. Your morning was spent training and running errands now that you had some time and were home for a little while before the next race. You were still carrying a lot of energy after your successful finish in Silverstone that sitting still and scrolling through your phone was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“Can you just find your phone, please?” Lando asked, because he didn’t want to be the person to break the news. He came over to talk to you, to walk you through it, to be someone to vent to if you needed it, but the last thing he wanted was to be the one to say it. 

It took a minute, but you found it in your bedroom, the screen lighting up and vibrating with each notification. As you walked back towards Lando, you scrolled through them all, trying to see which was the most important. 

Eventually, you landed on one from the official F1 app.

Daniel Ricciardo Replaces Nyck de Vries

Daniel Ricciardo was returning to the grid.

Daniel was coming back. 

But did he ever really leave in the first place?

You hadn’t spoken to him since that day in Monaco, almost a year ago now. The day your relationship fell apart, crumbling to pieces around you. 

You thought maybe, maybe, he’d call you before the next race or at least try to find you somewhere in the paddock to have a civil conversation but that didn’t happen. 

Of course, neither of you had time for a conversation anyway.

Daniel released his video 24 hours before media day in Belgium, announcing he would be leaving the team. It broke your heart watching it in your hotel room, knowing he was only a few floors up and probably struggled to record it. You could picture him retaking it a few times, just to get the words right, his tone right. He didn’t want to paint McLaren as being at fault for this decision, even if that was the case. 

If you weren’t the driver who was set to replace him, you would have been there in that room giving him encouraging nods and telling him to just speak to the fans. You would have been there when his head fell back against the wall in defeat, eyes closed as the weight of his unknown future crashed down on him. You would have crawled onto his lap and held him, telling him that another team was going to be desperate for him. 

Instead you were in your own room, watching the video like the millions of other followers he had. The only difference was, none of those followers asked themselves if they were to blame. 

It was just you, wiping the corner of your eyes and asking yourself if this was your fault. 

Surely when your news dropped, people would start pointing fingers, people would talk. 

Daniel Ricciardo trained her, they would say. He helped her get to this point and now she’s taking his seat. 

They’d throw assumptions into the wind about how this was probably your plan all along. 

It wasn’t, of course. Your plan was to get a seat in Formula 1 and see Daniel as friendly competition when you stepped onto the grid. You wanted to keep the support system alive when you moved up, knowing you had someone watching your back when you climbed out of the car. You wanted to be able to go home with him at the end of the night on Sunday and watch the race back with him, playfully critiquing each other's moves and ideally celebrating your victories, together.

You never wanted to leave him without a seat. 

But part of you must have known he wasn’t driving next year, right? You never brought up the contract, he never talked about leaving, nor did he talk about potentially moving to another team, which seemed like something you’d talk to your partner about. 

Daniel said nothing. You said nothing. And in the back of your head you knew he wasn’t signed to another team, you just didn’t want to accept it. 

You didn’t want to admit that part of that was your fault. 

Zak Brown put you in the worst position possible. He was giving you the chance to make your dream a reality, but in doing so, you were losing the one person who shared that dream with you. 

It shouldn’t have been hard to put on a smile during that post-race interview in Spa. You finished second, your hot streak had continued despite the turmoil your heart was going through. So not only was the adrenaline pumping through your veins from the podium, but McLaren had decided that morning was the perfect time to announce you were replacing Daniel. 

They didn’t word it like that, though. They just stated that you were to race for McLaren for 2023. No mention of Daniel, even if that was all anyone had questions about. 

“Second place in Spa, how are you feeling?” The reporter asked as you struggled to get comfortable in the white leather chair, your trophy at your feet. 

You weren’t surprised he, Richard from the official FIA reporting team, jumped directly to you, bypassing any questions for Liam Lawson who finished third. No one had yet to get a comment on your official move to F1, not having any time this morning since the news was announced. 

“It's exciting, it’s good to be back as well,” you nodded, turning to Felipe on your right who nodded as well. “A break is always needed, but there’s really no better feeling than getting back behind the wheel.”

“You’ve never podiumed here before,” Richard pointed out, “There’s quite a difference in performance from last year to this year, we’ve all noticed.” 

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” You laughed, not caring at all if it sounded forced, and you knew it did because Liam raised his hand to mouth to hide his chuckle and tried to play it off like he was just scratching his jaw. 

“Well it’s just no wonder that McLaren has snatched you up for the 2023 season, with how much you’ve shown this year what you’re capable of. Care to comment on that?” 

There it was. The first official request to talk about McLaren. 

“I mean, we’ve all seen the news at this point,” another laugh but this time it was more out of discomfort. 

You looked at Felipe, he nodded again but it was short and encouraging, silently telling you it was okay to take the spotlight even though it was him who had won this race. 

You cleared your throat, thinking about what the PR team from McLaren told you. You’re focused on Prema. McLaren knows this. McLaren is supporting you while you finish your F2 season and by all means, shut down any topic regarding Daniel Ricciardo. 

“Really, I’m just focused on finishing the season off strong with Prema,” you told Richard, feeling your smile start to slip because how could you be excited over that or a trophy when you knew what he was thinking and what the whole world was thinking. 

You prayed he wouldn’t bring it up, but the media world was hell. 

“And Daniel’s departure-

Liam promptly lifted the mic to lips, cutting off Richard before he could finish that thought. “We’ll all miss her, I think that’s safe to say. But maybe it’ll be a bit easier for the rest of us to podium when she’s gone.”

Quiet laughter spread through the audience and you just turned to Liam and mouthed a quick ‘thank you’. He didn’t say anything back, just dropped his head to your shoulder for a second and smiled, playing up the whole we’ll miss her statement. It wasn’t an act, though. Most of the guys you raced with had stopped you at some point this morning sharing their congrats and giving you a hug, telling you that you deserved that spot in F1. 

Even Felipe said it and meant it, and he was on the fast track to win this year, also eyeing a spot in F1. You had a good support system in this series. 

He dropped his head to your other shoulder and your lips fell into a playful pout, raising your hands to the sides of both driver’s faces. It made a cute photo. The F1 social media team really played into the love you had from your competitors. 

You had a lot of support in the paddock, surprisingly, from other drivers. 

Mick found you before his own race started. He was your first teammate during your rookie season in F2, it only made sense he was the first current driver to congratulate you.  

“You deserve it,” Mick told you, arms tightly wrapped around your body as he gave you a comforting embrace that almost compared to the one you were craving from Daniel, but still something was missing. 

Mick’s contract was up at the end of 2022, and no one knew where he was going but he assured you that no matter what, he’d be on your side. 

You sort of interacted with Lando on Sunday after your feature race. When you passed him in the paddock, he held his hand out for a fist bump and gave you a wide smile. The cameras caught it, they caught everything apparently, and it was the first photo you saw on social media when you got to the airport late Sunday evening. 

First of many celebratory fist bumps, McLaren’s caption said. It was a nice photo, truly. 

Too bad the comments were anything but. 

Not McLaren hyping up the fact that Danny’s girlfriend is replacing himIsn’t she only fourth in the driver standings in F2 lol We don’t want her we want the honey badgerEven worse when you think about the fact that they are literally in a relationship and she’s taking his seatNo class from any of them

No one seemed to know that you and Daniel were done, but how would they know? Your relationship was private, your break up would be too. 

Your break up. 

And then it hit you. Right there in the airport. After the adrenaline of a podium had worn off. After the excitement of signing with a new team had passed. After you were finally left alone after being surrounded by your team and drivers and press all day, you broke down. 

It was embarrassing. The only saving grace was the fact that you were sat in the corner of the premium lounge, facing the windows, so at least no one could see you cry. You weren’t quiet though, you knew your faint sobs could be heard from anyone within a 3 metre radius.

And you knew how immature this was, crying in an airport. But when you felt things you felt them with every fibre in your being. You were overjoyed beyond words, shaking when you got first podium in F2, and then feeling that multiplied by fifty when you won in Monaco. 

You were madly in love with Daniel, despite only dating for a year. It wasn’t young love, puppy love, a whirlwind romance, or any of those sappy headlines. You were head over heels, ready to spend your life with the man who lifted you up above the rest of the world. Who not only put you on a pedestal, but made sure other people did too. He was always in your corner, even before you started dating. He loved you long before you even realised you could also love him. 

As an athlete, as a future world championship contender, as a friend, Daniel loved you. 

The day you knew you loved him, you knew you were screwed, you both talked about the risks. 

Fragile line, you called it, walking a tightrope, he joked. There was such a huge margin of error, so many things that could go wrong by falling in love with, not only a driver but the driver who mentored you. 

The media would turn against you. Sponsors would shake their heads. Your future could have been jeopardised. You’d be labelled as a poor role model for girls in motorsport. 

You walked a dangerous and delicate line with Daniel, but you didn’t think it would snap beneath your feet. You never thought you’d be the one to break it. 

So yes, you were full on sobbing in the airport as you waited to board your flight to Amsterdam. 

“Pretty sure podium winners aren’t usually this distraught.”

You heard the British accent and immediately sat up, wiping your eyes and sniffling to at least try and make it seem like you weren’t crying. You turned your head and watched as Lando sat down next to you on the dark blue chair, resting a leg over his knee. 

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him, worrying that if you did try to talk, all that would come out would be more cries. 

Lando reached into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a travel size pack of tissues, tossing them to you without so much as a word. He waited a few minutes as you composed yourself, using some of the tissues and pocketing the rest for later. 

“You okay?” Lando asked, sounding concerned for your well being because he had a point, podium winners aren’t usually this distraught. 

“Am I okay?” You repeated back followed with a playful scoff. “Do I look okay?” 

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

Lando nodded, clearly unsure what to do in this situation. His current teammate, his friend, was leaving at the end of this year and his new teammate, a girl he had barely had 5 conversations with, was having a breakdown in the airport. 

Lando, whether he liked it or not, knew he would be caught in the middle of whatever this mess was for the next few months or so. 

He knew you and Daniel were an item. Daniel told himself shortly after Silverstone, and only because Lando had asked, simply curious.

“You and Y/N,” he started off, hesitantly, seeing the two of you interact much more flirtatiously then you had before. “You two are..” he didn’t know how to word it. 

Daniel just winked, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

That pretty much confirmed it. And then when you started showing up in the back of the McLaren garage during race weekends, Lando sort of accepted it, quickly getting used to seeing you around. 

You were always friendly with each other, but your attention was always on Daniel, too. Lando saw the way you were quick to rush to his side after a difficult race. How you were the first one Daniel looked for when he stepped out of the car, eyes searching the sea of orange for you. Lando heard the way Daniel talked about you, the way he praised you, telling everyone who would listen that you deserved a spot in Formula 1. That man had a note saved on his phone of your stats, race wins, qualifying times, records broken, all of it. 

Daniel loved you. Everyone who knew him saw it, and Lando was no exception. 

So one could imagine the uncertainty he felt as he approached you in the airport. Surely you and Daniel weren’t together anymore, right? Or were you somehow going to work through this? Could you work through it? Taking his seat?

Lando, like everyone else, was dying to know. 

“Has he said anything?” You asked him before Lando had a chance to get a word out. That question alone confirmed that you and Daniel weren’t on speaking terms at least.

“About you?” Lando asked and when you nodded, he saw the devastation hit your eyes as he shook his head. “Honestly he wasn’t very talkative today, left right after the post race stuff.”

“How is he?” You then asked. “Has he- is there any word on him finding a seat next year?” You pulled your knees up to your chest, staring hopefully at the British driver. 

It pained Lando to shake his head again, “Not yet, but it’s still pretty early. I’m sure he’ll find a seat.”

You nodded, praying that Lando was right. When you dropped your chin to your knees, averting your eyes when you felt the tears well up again, Lando’s chest grew tight. He felt bad for you. This was a hard position for you to be in. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Lando assured you. “Danny’s one of the best there is, but the results just aren’t there. Zak didn’t see any point in continuing if it’ll just end up being more of the same.”

Lando tried to be encouraging, really, and you were thankful for that, but he got the hint after a while that you just didn’t want to talk about it. Before leaving you alone, he gave you his number and told you that if you needed anything, to just reach out. 

You were always friendly with Lando, but that was the start to your friendship.

It was Lando who shared your picture when you claimed first place in Zandvoort, celebrating your success with a cheeky caption stating how he better see you bring the hot streak to McLaren next year. He was the one who interrupted your post-race interview in Monza, spotting you in the paddock being interviewed by Will Buxton. Lando, despite needing to follow his own pre-race schedule, came and draped an arm over your shoulder and playfully interrupted whatever Will was trying to say.

“Look at that,” Will laughed when you struggled to shake Lando’s arm off of you, “Future teammates. Lando, how excited are you to be working with this incredible talent next year?”

“Oh extremely excited,” Lando answered, leaning into the mic gripped between your fingers. “She won’t be able to keep up with me though.”

And that it was it. He ruffled his hand through your hair and took off again.

He checked in on you between races, whenever a new headline was trending, whenever someone from social media had the audacity to compare yours and Daniels stats and pin you against each other as if there wasn’t already enough you were struggling with.

Lando didn’t want you to come into the new season already feeling defeated. He was still friends with Daniel, he always would be, but he had a kind heart. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t on anyones ‘side’, but more importantly, he saw you as a driver, as his next teammate. He didn’t see you as Daniel’s ex who was now stealing his seat like half of the world did.

It was also his car that you drove during the practice sessions in Austin and Abu Dhabi. Lando happily stepped aside for you, giving you a supportive pat on the back and strategically blocking your line of sight towards Daniel as he got ready for his sessions as well.

You still hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t even looked at each other. You tried, honestly, to catch his eye but he refused to even glance your way. He was in and out of that car so quick, finding any excuse to leave the garage while you were there.

It hurt. You knew his mind was made up. He was upset, he was hurt, he wanted nothing to do with you and seeing you in his garage sent him spiralling.

All you saw was Daniel turning his back on you, but what you didn’t know was this situation was giving Daniel constant headaches. He couldn’t look at you, the girl he loved, and watch you climb into the McLaren knowing that you’d be doing that throughout the entire next season and he wouldn’t.

All he ever wanted was to see you in a Formula 1 car, but not like this. 

You stood in Lando’s side of the garage during the last race. You wore your McLaren jacket, you had the orange headphones on as stared up at the screen. Your back was towards Daniel’s car, so you missed the way he did actually look at you. It pained him to see how well you blended in with the team, his team. He almost told himself it looked like you belonged there, but he quickly put his helmet on and climbed into his car, gearing up for the race.

He finished 9th. Lando finished 6th. And with that, the season ended.

Daniel was done.

You watched him celebrate with those closest to him. You stood off to the side and thought about how if things were different, you’d be clinging to him, sweaty race suit and all, waiting to congratulate him in your own way back at the hotel. You would tell him you loved him, that he didn’t need McLaren. You’d joke and say that you two could form your own team, because that’s what you should have been till the end, a team. 

But that wasn’t the case anymore. McLaren was your team now.

It was only a matter of days until Daniel spoke to the media about his departure. 

“I can’t speak ill of her,” Daniel said, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He knew that coming on this podcast that he’d be asked about you and your contract. He was advised against it but the second his working relationship ended with McLaren, he agreed to talk, to share his side.

“But she’s the one who took your seat,” Jaycee so politely pointed out. “As happy as I am to see a female in Formula 1, it’s bittersweet knowing a driver such as yourself is left without a spot.”

Daniel sighed into the mic in front of him, “McLaren handed her her dream on a papaya platter and she grabbed it. I think a lot of drivers would do the same in that scenario.”

“But it stings a little more, doesn’t it?” Greyson, her co-host asked. “Because you two were-

“Friends, yeah,” Daniel interrupted. “Yeah we were close.”

“You mentored her,” Greyson pushed for more of an admittance as to what their relationship was. “You were seen with her and the Prema team during a handful of weekends. She even said you were her mentor.”

Daniel naturally hesitated, “I saw her potential early on and I wanted to help her grow. I really did want to see her in Formula 1, despite what anyone says about the situation she’s an incredible driver.”

“Everyone who follows Formula 1 knows you have a strong connection,” Jaycee said, subtly trying to pry for more as well. “After her Silverstone crash in 2021 you were in her garage. And then you were seen in Monaco together a few weeks later. You two weren’t just friends in the paddock, you worked closely together outside of race weekends too-

“Did your girlfriend take your seat or not?” Greyson blurted out, earning a glare from Jaycee on his left, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He wanted to know, the whole world wanted to know what was going on between you and Daniel now that you were signed for McLaren. 

And you had to give props to Daniel, he played it off about as smoothly as he could. 

“McLaren sees more potential in her than me,” he said, still smiling because that’s who he was. A people pleaser, always grinning, always a breath of fresh air. “If they can give her what they promised me, then that’s good for all of them. Do I like how the situation went down? No, but that’s the reality of Formula 1. You’re not safe unless you’re winning and I wasn’t winning.”

“And your relationship-

“She doesn’t need a mentor anymore, does she?” Daniel asked, disregarding any ideas of the two of you dating. “She made it to Formula 1. That was what she wanted. I wish her well.” 

That was the closest thing to confirmation of your break up that anyone would get. 

And the interview ended shortly after that, doing wonders on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. You listened to it also, just waiting for Daniel to say something horrible but of course he didn’t. That wasn’t him. He was the good guy. He was the hero. He got you to Formula 1 and was holding his head up high, wishing you well and thanking McLaren for the last 2 years. 

You wished it ended there, the conversations surrounding you. It should have ended there. 

But fast forward to the awards dinner at the end of the year, just shortly after the last race of the season. 

You sat with your mum at a round table with Felipe and his partner and few other people involved in Formula 2. 

You had finished second in the standings, not first like you had dreamt of, but Felipe told you that first place in the championship would come in F1, don’t worry. 

And you weren’t sure who had made the seating chart, but from where you sat, you could easily see Daniel at his table, only a few metres away from your own. He sat with some of his friends and some people from his personal team. He was also purposely avoiding looking in your direction, knowing that if he did, he’d be making eye contact for the first time in months. 

He’d see your stunning features and bright eyes standing out among the rest. He’d see the low cut, thinly strapped black dress, showing off the collarbones he used to mark with his lips, the trail between your breast and down to your navel that he used to make with his tongue. If he looked at you, he’d think of all the ways the night would have ended if things were different. 

If he looked at you, he’d be reminded that the girl he loved was the one who broke him. He’d be reminded that as hurt as he was by your actions, by taking his seat, he couldn’t forget the memories you made, the moments he shared, the way he used to admire you. 

He didn’t love you anymore, though. He couldn’t. He forced those feelings out, replacing them with regret for ever deciding to help you because if he hadn't helped you, it wouldn’t have been you that took his seat. 

So Daniel looked at the stage, his friends, his food. He didn’t look at you. 

He didn’t even look at you when you walked up to collect your trophy, choosing that moment to be the perfect time to walk up to the open bar. He ordered a few more drinks and a shot on a whim, downing it back before walking to the table, 2 freshly poured glasses of rum and cokes in hand. 

Daniel got drunk that night. He didn’t mean to, but it helped him deal with all he had going on. It was a good way to end the 2022 season, to put it behind him. You, McLaren, all of it. 

Someone should have stopped him when he noticed you about to leave at the end of the night, a white coat draped over your shoulders. That should be my blazer, Daniel thought, thinking of the countless nights he had given you his jacket for warmth. 

You were in the middle of a conversation with someone from Prema when you felt a tug in your arm. When you looked up and saw it was Daniel who was pulling you off to the side, your heart sank. There were no butterflies anymore, just a lot of anxiety and guilt eating you from the inside. 

You could tell he hadn’t thought through what he was going to say. For a split second, his gaze was soft, almost like he thought about congratulating you for a successful season. For a moment, proud Daniel was back and for a moment, you got your hopes up. Maybe this line you broke could be fixed.

It was a bad sign when his eyes grew cold, features hardening along with them. This man, who was all you wanted, stared at you like you were a stranger, and maybe you were now. 

He opened his mouth and the room around you fell dark and quiet. It was your mind playing horrible tricks on you, putting a spotlight in this moment in time so it would haunt your memories after tonight. You knew the earth was still spinning, that people around you were still moving, but you couldn’t trust anything, frozen in this space with Daniel. 

“I hope you’re happy,” Daniel spoke softly, but his words cut through you like a knife. If someone told you that your heart was bleeding, you’d believe it. That’s certainly what it felt like.

He didn’t want you to be happy. He didn’t want you taking his seat. He didn’t want to see you live out his dream. He put on a beautiful charade for the press, but deep down you knew, he saw you as nothing more but a mistake. He no longer wanted you to succeed, despite telling the world he wished you would. 

"Daniel-"

You automatically reached for him and he flinched backwards. It hurt, seeing him react how he was. He didn’t want you touching him, he just wanted to get one more word in, wanted you to know that he was still bitter and would be for a while. 

You stood there and watched him walk away, haunted by the pain and broken trust in his eyes, a look that would become burned into your mind during your restless sleeps. 

And then there was the week where you just didn’t sleep. The week after Daniel’s contract with Red Bull was announced. 

He wasn’t driving with them, but he wasn’t leaving Formula 1 either. 

He’d still be around the paddock during selective race weekends. He’d be there, putting on a show for the fans because everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him on the grid, and if he couldn’t race, at least he was still there in the garage as a reserve driver. 

The same excitement couldn’t be said for you. 

Despite forming a close bond with Lando really early into the pre-season, it helped that he was only two years younger than you, you were not met with open arms and loud cheers. 

You had some supporters, a lot actually, but nothing compared to Daniel’s fans. You were pulled alert and critiqued for every move you made. You could understand the questions that circulated when you didn’t even finish the first race in Bahrain, retiring early because of an engine problem. Did Zak really make the right move by replacing Daniel with you? What could you bring to the team if this was how you started the season?

But it was the talk about what you did off the track that really got to you. You didn’t care if people weren’t a fan of your driving, you knew F1 fans had their favourites and you knew you weren’t everyone’s. 

However social media had a way of spinning everything. You lost count of the ridiculous rumours. Apparently, you were now replacing Daniel with Lando because that playful interview you did talking about red flags in relationships really gave away the fact you were sleeping together. 

Oh you were also sleeping with Mick Schumacher, because you had a thing for reserve drivers, it seemed. And the way he found you after your second race without points again in Saudi Arabia made it so obvious that you were with him. 

And you couldn’t forget about how big of a bitch you were, choosing to not acknowledge Daniel in Australia when you walked past him in the paddock. It was his home race, he was the reason you were even racing, and you couldn’t even stop and give him a smile? 

These rumours were truly getting annoying.

Of course, you couldn’t come out and tell people that Lando was seeing someone because it was so new and private and not your story to tell. No one cared that Mick was your teammate at Prema in 2020 and you guys had always been friends. No one would believe you if you said that you didn’t even see Daniel in the paddock, being too engrossed in your conversation to notice that the Australian was walking past. 

You grew to hate seeing him during race weekends. 

It was a constant reminder of what could have been. 

What if you had waited a year and signed with McLaren then? Would Daniel still hold this hatred towards you if his contract played out like it was supposed to? 

What if you signed with a different team like Williams instead, and someone else replaced Daniel? If Oscar Piastri had taken his spot, would Daniel be this resentful still to see you driving? Or would he happily walk by your side in the paddock, him in Red Bull polo, you in your Williams racing suit? Would he have accompanied you during the race weekends when he didn’t have Red Bull duties?

Was there ever a scenario where he stood in your garage and watched you race? Cheering you on, despite what place you finished? Despite where he was in his own career?

Or was that just a far fetched dream? 

Because let’s face it, if Daniel was still racing this year, it would be hard to support you and focus on his own season. How could he be happy if he DNF’d and you finished in the points? How could you be happy if the media would say that you were only using Daniel to get ahead? 

If you had signed for Williams and Daniel was still replaced, it would be difficult for him to watch you race, to watch you do what he loved. How could he be in your corner when he no longer had a corner of his own to stand in? 

Maybe you were doomed from the start. Fragile line, you said. How true that was. It was always going to snap.

You heard through the grapevine that Daniel had said you taking his seat before his contract was even up was the worst thing you could have possibly done. 

Was that in regards to McLaren? To your relationship? From a sportsmanship standpoint? You had no idea. You just knew Daniel wasn’t impressed that you were racing and he wasn’t.  

You hated seeing him during the few races he attended. You were petrified to run into him in the paddock, in the pit lane, in the hotel for christ sakes, you didn’t want to see him. At one point, you were desperate for even just a smidge of attention from him and now you felt sick whenever you heard he would be in attendance.

You went five races in a row without scoring any points. You could practically hear Daniel’s smug expression when you crossed the finish line each time. He was probably eating this up, knowing you were the one struggling now. 

The only difference was, you didn’t have him to turn to after a shitty run in the McLaren. 

Lando tried to be helpful, but he was struggling too. People called the car a tractor and honestly, so did you and Lando in private. You had a group chat with your personal trainers and the four of you called yourselves the farmers. The jokes made and lighthearted conversations shared were the only silver linings during this depressing start of a season.

Monaco was better, sort of. 

You finished 10th, so at least that was a point under your belt. 

But Daniel was everywhere. 

He loved Monaco, he lived in Monaco, of course it was no surprise he was there that weekend.

You found yourself jogging past his flat the Thursday before the race, and you didn’t do it on purpose but it was the same route you had taken all of those times you had spent days on end at Daniel’s. Sometime he joined you for those morning runs, sometime you’d return and he was making breakfast.

But you came to a stop on the opposite side of the street and stared up at it, recognising his balcony instantly. You saw the plant in the corner that you had given him a few months into your relationship and despite him claiming he wasn’t a plant guy, he managed to keep it alive.

Your heart felt heavy. All you wanted was to knock on his door and be welcomed in with wide arms and that stupid smile of his. You wanted to not feel anxious when you saw him in the paddock. You wanted to not be holding your breath every time you got out of the racecar, wondering what Daniel thought of your run. 

You were simultaneously on edge at all moments while also still dying to make him proud. You didn’t think that would ever go away.

Even during the weekends he wasn’t there, you were looking over your shoulder constantly. Even if you knew that he was on the other side of the world, he was still on your mind. He haunted your thoughts from the moment you walked into the garage to when you got out of the car at the end of the race weekend.

Lando called you out on it that Thursday in Silverstone.

“You’re in your head,” he told you, seeing how your main focus wasn’t racing, it was Daniel. You were unsure what he was referring to though and Lando just rolled his eyes, “Well actually, Daniel’s in your head. And he’s keeping you from being the driver I know you can be.”

That was all he said on the topic. 

And he was right.

You were so worried about Daniel. About what he would think of your races. About trying to avoid him during the weekends he was there. About still trying to make him proud but not too proud where he resented you more for taking his seat. About the hundreds of scenarios that could have happened if you had made a different choice.

Because of all of these thoughts, that seat at McLaren was still very much Daniel’s. You allowed it to be.

You needed to stop telling yourself you took his seat because that’s what it would always be then, his seat. Lando stood up, patting your knee after dropping those few words and you decided right then and there that it was your seat. 

You wouldn’t let Daniel haunt you anymore. 

And qualifying was where this new mentality really showed. 

You were buzzing with energy when your engineer told you that you had gotten P3 and were starting on the second row for tomorrows race. You climbed out of the car in parc ferme and ran directly to Lando. He hugged you, he was proud of you. 

“That’s the driver we all know,” Lando said when he pulled his helmet off. His hand was on your shoulder, both of you were wearing identical smiles of pure joy. “Where the hell has she been all this time?”

You didn’t even have an answer, too excited about what this meant for you, for the team. You post-quali interviews went by in a blur, your hands were shaking the entire time. You blacked out during it, still trying to process the fact that you had finished third in qualifying, but you did remember Lando reaching over at one point and dropping his hand to your knee. It was polite, it didn’t mean anything more than a playful stop shaking you’re making us all look bad, but god did the media run with it. 

You didn’t let anything on social media get to you, telling yourself that you had to stay focused for the race. In fact you even gave your phone to your trainer, Oliver, asking him to take it for the night and to just wake you up in the morning.

And Oliver was a good trainer, he had also become a good friend since you joined McLaren so you trusted him with your phone. 

Which meant he knew your password. 

So when he saw your phone light up that night with a text from Daniel, Oliver panicked. He knew the right thing to do would be to just leave it alone, you’d see it in the morning. You’d see the message. The short but seemingly sweet;

P3, nice job

But a text like that would send you spiralling and you didn't need that before one of the most important races of the season for you, Oliver knew this. He knew you were supposed to be getting over Daniel, he knew how much the Australian just being in the paddock messed with your mind. He knew you had to focus on racing.

There was so much uncertainty with the text. Was this him extending an olive branch? Was he genuine, or was this supposed to be taken with a bit of salt? Oliver could read it both ways. Either Daniel was truly happy for you, or this could be dripping with sarcasm. P3, sure, but remember who’s seat you’re in.

Oliver decided to delete the text. There was no trace of it when he handed the phone back to you the next day. 

Maybe that was for the best, no one knew. 

All you knew was you were starting third today.

All Daniel knew was you had ignored him, and now you were walking right past him down the paddock, side by side with Lando as you talked about today’s race. Daniel turned his head and saw the two of you, drawing his own conclusions. 

Whatever was going through his mind, one thing seemed certain. You didn’t need him anymore. You had the seat, the team, someone new supporting you, why would you still need Daniel?

You went about your day, the same pre-race rituals. Lando checked in more than normal, it was an exciting day for both of you, but he knew he was also a good distraction to keep your mind off of Daniel, he knew you would be struggling to keep from thinking about him. 

“It’s you and me,” Lando told you right before the race. “It’s our day, yeah? We’ve got this.”

Lando was in your corner. You were in his. 

Which meant you were there to celebrate after the race when he took home second place. You had claimed fourth, which was also something to be proud of, and you were, but you were also craving that podium. You could almost taste it, it was so close. 

“Next time,” Lando assured you, having full confidence that you’d be holding the trophy at the following race. He handed you a bottle of champagne, telling you to drink up and enjoy and for once, you did. 

You were happy. You finally felt like you could accomplish something amazing at McLaren, despite the horrible start. Lando had gotten a podium, yours was coming, you could feel it. 

You didn’t think about Daniel at all that night. It was the first night in a long time where you didn’t see his face when you closed your eyes. 

And you would have loved to keep celebrating after that night, to keep the high of Lando's podium and your 4th place finish last until the next race, but all good things must come to an end. 

You stood in front of Lando now, unsure how to take the news about Daniels’ return. Were you allowed to be happy for him? Of course you wanted to see him in a seat, this was the ideal situation, both of you driving this season. What would this mean for the two of you moving forward?

But he had done the exact same thing you had done by replacing a driver before their contract was up.

Daniel made you feel awful about that decision and now here he was, making the exact same one. He was no better than you. He was no hero, he wasn’t the good guy. He was a driver, desperate for a seat, as were you. As was every single person wanting to race in this series. 

You were on the same playing field now.

He was going to be at every single race for the rest of the season, as a competitor on the grid. Something you once dreamt of, both of you dreamt of, was finally coming true. 

But that’s all he would be. A competitor. Another driver. Another car to overtake. You always thought that when this moment came, you’d still be a team when you left the track at the end of the day and that just wasn’t the reality you found yourself in. 

“He’s back,” Lando said, hands shoved in his pockets trying to gauge your reaction. 

Daniel was returning to Formula 1, but you knew he was never actually gone in the first place.

He was in your thoughts, your dreams, your memories, he was everywhere all of the time. Even when you crossed the finish line in Silverstone, there was still a part of you that was wondering if Daniel was watching. As much as you tried to avoid him, your eyes still scanned every single crowd for him.

And now you didn’t need to look anymore. 

part 3 gone

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taglist: @yunnie-f1 @torossosebs @whatthefuckerr @jspitwall @oconso @tsarinablogs @landowecanbewc @somanyfandomsbruh @christianpulisic10 @storminacloud @sunnytkm23 @formula1mount @azxulaa @icarus-nex @spideyspeaches if i forgot someone im so sorry

[darthfighter]

the warmth

Chapter Four of Your Shadow Series

warnings: violence, death, pining, & a sprinkle of smut

summary: as you venture on your first mission with qimir, your feelings for him stand between you two and near death experiences cause tension between both of you

word count: 4.0k

authors note: thanks for all the support and feedback on this fic!! it really keeps me motivated :’) as promised.. this is build up for smut.. next chapter is posted right now as well

part three here !

Training with Qimir began to chip your vulnerability away like paint on a rusty ship.

Over time through the two weeks you had been training with him, you both grew closer. First he opened you up mentally by growing your thoughts to new mindsets, then he trained you combat wise. Growing physically closer to him. He’d often have a grip on your arm from blocking you. Maybe here and there he had been pressed up against your back as his arm wrapped around you when you let your guard down. Most of the time he would tackle you to the floor and look down to you below him. The action would only last mere seconds. Deep down, in your most non Jedi like feelings Qimir has been teaching you, you wanted the seconds to last longer.

This morning as you prepared for the training day ahead of you, Qimir stopped you.

“You’ve done enough. Today will be your first test, we’re heading to Jedha.”

Now you waited for the two of you to arrive on the big moon as you flew through hyperspace. You sat in the cockpit beside Qimir. The flashes of blue reflecting off of your complexion, Qimir gets to see your blue skin as he turns his pilot chair towards you to start conversation.

“It’s quite fitting for you to have a purple lightsaber.” You didn’t bring your lightsaber today. The decision of course made you protest on why you’d be on your first test with no lightsaber, but Qimir made a good point that an ex Jedi with a purple saber alongside a “Sith” with a red one would bring quite the attention. You didn’t disagree with that. So you joined today's mission saberless. “Most complicated Jedi have it.” Qimir finishes.

“You calling me complicated?”

Qimir raises his shoulders a few inches to shrug, and lightly brings his eyebrows up. “Why do you think I took you in? It’s one of the main reasons.”

You are comfortable with Qimir at this point. From the time spent together making his answer less of a threat and rather a compliment. With this comfortableness, you tease. “Is that the only reason you let me in?”

He stays silent.

You grew too comfortable, you thought. It makes your heart escalate at a higher speed and your body gets hot. Embarrassed.

He turns his chair back to the front to face the beams of light behind the windshield as you nervously fidget with your hands in your lap.

The jump out of hyperspace makes you shift into your seat making your back press up against the chair. When you look up, all you see is orange.

You smile to yourself. It resembles home.

–

Walking off the ramp, you felt pure adrenaline. Your boots imprinted themselves to the sand sinking you in just a tad. You remember as a kid, running as you played and feeling the sand below you slow you down.

Qimir stands beside you and doesn’t move. Neither does he say anything. The ramp closed from behind you both while you waited for him to take initiative. Nothing ever came.

You look towards him and see his lip twitch before he finally says something. “You are taking the lead today.” Your eyes grow wide while your heart falls onto the soft sand.

“What do you mean? I have no idea why we’re here?”

“Me neither.” You look towards Qimir’s expression. Amusement. That’s what his face said. His face held a smile growing his smile lines and his Adam's apple shifted as he held in his chuckle. He softly says your name and continues “All I know is you’re gonna use your instincts. Walk towards whatever calls to you. Follow whoever captivates you. Walk into wherever that pulls to you. Let the force do what it does best. Feel.”

Your eyes set on different parts of his expression, trying your best to read him. When you finally conclude he’s serious, you look ahead. You see the city of Jedha. You feel a sort of gravitational pull to it. Like being near a black hole, you sink into the abyss.

The abyss being The Holy City.

While walking towards the city, Qimir educates you a bit on where you are headed. How the city was known for its spirituality. Most come to this planet to find purpose, to find meaning. He explained how some believe that the Jedi and Jedha are intertwined. Roped together. Though you weren’t coming here to achieve the Jedi way.

The closer you got to the city, the more you tried to let yourself feel. Eventually as you made it to the crowded streets of Jedha, you became overwhelmed.

Jedha Pilgrims roamed almost every other corner, children running in groups, and droids left and right. You put one foot in front of the other and decided to stop. You close your eyes and you feel Qimir’s warmth beside you. Waiting for your next move.

The force tells you to take a right on the next alley way, and you do. Walking in that direction feels right, natural. Like you were supposed to come this way.

You continued this initiation repeatedly. Going left and right in different rotations.

Qimir stayed a ways behind you. Watching you, studying you. His hands were held behind his back as he walked behind you like your own personal shadow.

As you make your way through the busy streets of Jedha, you feel an instinct to stop. Your continuous pace ends. Then, a feeling flows through you like a gust of wind. You look towards the mental breeze which reveals a cantina. Music booms from the inside and all kinds of people and different species walk in and out of the entrance. The force is telling you to walk inside.

You look behind your shoulder to see Qimir’s eyes set on you with a piercing gaze. He’s focused on your actions and it makes you nervous. Especially intimidated. To make your feelings not get overwhelmed at his gaze, you look forwards again and start to walk inside.

Your pace walking inside feels choreographed. As you walk wherever the force is taking you, it buzzes your insides. Feeling like you're getting electrified from the inside out.

Something is burning as you walk in. Your eyes scan the dim cantina, and your mind wonders why you were called inside this place.

You decide to place your forearms on a high table as you inspect the room. Qimir joins you and stands beside you.

To your right you see people swarming a table as they play a game and bet on whatever amount of credits laid on the table. Directly across from you, you see a couple clearly on date. The man going on a tangent about Maker knows what as the girl sips her drink. Finally, to the left of you, you see four individuals with dark clothing. Something about their expression says they are here for something. The force feels dark as you look at them. Looking at them feels like it burns your eyes like you are looking directly into the suns.

“Can I get you two anything?” A waitress with a tray in her hands comes forward to you and Qimir. Before you get the chance to speak, he swipes the opportunity to respond out your mouth.

“Ah yes! Do you happen to have any drinks that are not too strong?” Qimir turns to you and puts his hand on your forearm. “Don’t want her taking care of me like the other day, right?”

You look back at Qimir and see a whole other person. A person you are not used to. It feels and looks like he is wearing a mask. Though, he resembles the person he pretended to be from when you first met him. He was playing his alias. You decide to play along.

“Yeah.. Don't want you getting sick like that again.”

“I understand, I’ll bring the best option for that.”

The waitress turns her back and heads to the bar.

Qimir shifts a bit closer to you, committing to the role. His hand still rests above your skin, and he brushes his thumb along your arm affectionately. As he does this, it begins to pull you out of the trance you have been keeping on the forefront of your mind.

“What’s calling you?” He asks, low, and in a different tone than what he was previously doing.

Your mind shifts out of your thoughts from his touch, and resumes onto the dark force ahead of you. You look over to the suspicious people without saying anything, making Qimir look that way. He hums from seeing what you are insinuating. He feels the heat off of them too.

“Here you go. Enjoy.” She brings a small glass of a drink. It’s blue and cold. She turns around and continues her job before you can thank her.

The two of you stand and resume to play your part and Qimir slowly drinks his beverage.

Eventually one of the suspicious men ahead of you walks into the back of the cantina. Going into a dark hall. Immediately Qimir gulps the drink down his throat and begins to hold his stomach while covering his hand over his mouth. He’s playing the part. He grabs ahold of your hand and takes you to the back where the man had gone. The waitress looks at you both and you apologetically give her a smile. Clearly meaning the drink wasn’t for him.

As you turn the corner Qimir shifts the way he had been holding himself. Before he was slouching and hiding behind his hair in his face, now he stood tall and confident.

His hand was still intertwined with your as you both ventured out in these halls, looking for the man. Your eyes pay attention to a bright light illuminating through a doorway. Qimir looks back at you, and you look at him. You finally let go of his hand and feel the warmth of him leave your skin, and start to walk towards the room.

As you turn the corner, you see the dark cloak of a man giving a bag of spice to a younger boy who has a worrisome expression painted on his face.

“Turn around, and mind your business.”

His words don't affect you. You continue to scan the younger boy. You feel the fear residing in him infect you. You feel a wave of protectiveness. It resembles the protectiveness you had for your brother.

You softly walk to him and the man shifts his body in anger.

“I suggest you leave.” He spits a threat into the air.

Your face grows soft to comfort the scared boy in front of you. You sense the uneasiness off of him, and decide to comfort him with the force by getting inside his head, and speaking. “Leave. And don’t come back.” The choice of words can seem threatening, but your soft tone makes it sound reassuring.

Without a second thought, the boy books it out of the room. The man yells “What about our deal!”

Now, the man looks at you with an angered gaze. “I don't know who you think you are.” His chest grows big in anger. He’s threatening you, and doubles it by pointing his blaster between your eyes.

The tension in the air grows thick. You’re defenseless. Though, Qimir stayed behind you.

You see the man's expression grow harsher and sharper. He’s about to pull the trigger, but before he does. His face grows red. At first you believe it's from his fiery anger, but you turn around to see Qimir holding out his hand. Force choking him. The more time passes, the more the man grows weak. He lets go of his blaster and it clashes with the floor. His breaths grow ragged and his hands reach towards his throat. His knees hit the floor, and he passes out. No longer breathing.

Your breath begins to quicken. The man is dead below you. Inches away from your shoes. You start to wonder how long it will be until his body will grow cold like your brother.

Qimir snaps you out of your wave of panic and grabs ahold of your hand, pulling you out of the room. Before you leave the room you pull yourself out of his grip and walk back towards the man, taking the blaster off the floor. You walk back to Qimir and let him take your hand again.

The both of you stomp down the hallway hand in hand. Eventually, the waitress who served you both comes around the corner in front of you with a worried expression “Are you feeling alright?”

Then, one of the other four men that were in the cantina previously shouted behind you. He aims his blaster at you both and fires. Before it can hit you, Qimir pulls you of the way with your hand and wraps his arms around you. However, the blaster hits the woman instead and she immediately falls to the floor.

Anger. Fire. Heat.

You feel strong. Powerful.

Anger bubbles itself in your chest and you want to avenge her.

Without a second thought, you raise your blaster and fire at the man. He falls to the floor.

“C’mon. We need to get out of here.” Qimir orders.

You start to walk towards the back of the hallways in the hopes to find an exit, rather than leaving through the front and creating countless witnesses.

As you turn a corner, another man attacks Qimir. Qimir immediately blocks it and lets go of your hand. You stand unmoving while Qimir blocks the other mans attacks. Even sometimes swiftly moving out the way with the force. While your eyes are set on Qimir a man comes up from behind you and wraps his arms around you. Sending you in a headlock. Your guard was down.

Next thing you know, bright red illuminates through the room. Shining against the walls. Qimir stabs the man with his saber. His eyes set on you, at first he has a worrisome expression painted on him, but then immediately turns into anger. He sees the man aiming his own blaster on your temple, with his finger on the trigger.

The man orders you to drop your blaster, and you do so.

“One move and I'll blow her head off.” The man orders.

Qimir stayed still as his saber rested in his hand, illuminating light and a vibrating sound echoing in the room.

It’s a standstill. Until Qimir swifts his hand with the force and it pushes the blaster out of the man's hand. Also with the force, Qimir yells at you in your head. “Duck!”

You pull your body down and feel the heat of the lightsaber sway above your head. Qimir had thrown his lightsaber to the man and it sliced his head off his neck. You hear the thud behind you, but don't dare to look.

Qimir lifts you from the floor and takes you out from the exit you've been meaning to come out of this whole time.

As you make it outside, the sky is orange. Orange from the suns setting as well as the insane amount of dust in the air.

A sandstorm was on the way.

“We need to make it to the ship before it gets worse.”

You nod your head in agreement. The two of you make it through the busy stress while being interlinked. As much as you enjoyed Qimir’s hand in yours, it made logical sense. With Qimir’s quick steps as well as making sure not to get lost, it was a good idea.

Eventually the two of you made it out of the city, now walking in a field of sand with mountain terrains around you. Qimir had landed his ship outside The Holy City to be smart and not bring attention to you both. This now backfired on you both meaning the walk to your ship was longer than you needed and the middle of a sandstorm.

The more you walked the more you shielded your eyes from the sand. Your mouth began to ingest the sand and would crack as you bit your teeth.

“Qimir! We won't make it!” You shouted through the sandy wind, “We need shelter!”

He doesn’t answer, and instead keeps walking.

The sand ends up getting so bad you can’t even open your eyes anymore. So you let Qimir take the lead. You trusted him with each step you took, following him while intertwined with his hand.

Eventually you feel the gust of wind grow weaker. Weaker until it is no more.

You open your eyes to see a dimly lit cave. There are remnants of a past campsite with sheets of cloth in different areas as a makeshift bed. Rocks in a circle for a campfire, though there was nothing to start one with, and empty bottles scattered around the cave. This was clearly a hangout spot.

You initiate letting go of his hand first as you wander around the cave, inspecting it. It may be empty, but not quiet. Wind howled towards the exit with a sheet of orange dust covering the distance beyond.

Looking back at Qimir, his stature is still. Broad.

“Let me guess, you used the force to find this place?” He doesn't answer you back. Instead he stays silent as he sits on one of the thin makeshift beds. His arms wrapped around his legs as they are bent, and his head bows, making his hair fall to his face.

He seems mad at you. Although you don’t know what for. So you speak your mind. “I did everything you asked me to.”

Silent.

You puff out air as frustration starts to take effect. You rest your hands on your hips. “If you're mad about the sandstorm it’s gonna go away eventually. We just have to wait-” Suddenly Qimir rises to his feet, fast.

“I'm not mad about the sandstorm.” He says, firmly, and showing hints of contrite. “You let your guard down.”

You look into his eyes and see he is serious. This makes you laugh lightly. Immediately he gets offended by this as you laugh in his face.

“You give me my first test with no weapon? And you expect it to go smoothly? I was almost considered useless compared to you! You have your saber Qimir.”

He raises his hand in the air to make his point, “The reason I didn't have you bring it is to not bring attention to yourself.”

“Then why do you get to bring yours?”

“Because I'm sure of myself! Once you are seen with me with your saber as well, you’ll become a target too. You need to decide if this is the life you wanna live.”

Your voice speaks in a pitch lower than before, “You could’ve just asked me if I wanted that.”

Silence fills the air. The way you look at him, answers that you want this life. You want to be alongside Qimir. You have never felt more yourself until you met him.

This seems to bring the tension down. You decide to sit down on a bed across from Qimir. He stays standing. He holds himself like he is impatient. Clearly something is on his mind.

“You could’ve died.” Qimir says, sternly. He sounds so serious your heart drops. He turns around to look towards the exit of the cave. Seeing dust brush past the exit. “I didn’t search for you for so long to lose you like that.” He mumbles. Though the wind made it difficult for you to hear. You only hear just a few words. The words being, search, long, and you.

Qimir doesn't turn around to continue the conversation, only keeps his back facing you. Silently. You lay down on the uncomfortable bed and turn away, facing the opposite way. The adrenaline from before started to take effect and make you tired. You felt your limbs melt into the floor and your brain grow quieter. You drift into sleep.

–

You open your eyes and it’s pitch black. Though it is so dark you can't tell if your eyes are closed or open, you still hear the wind howl in the distance. It hasn’t left. You frown your eyebrows as you can’t see around you, wondering where Qimir is. You can’t see anything, but you know you can if you want to.

Just as Qimir uses The Force as he can barely see through his helmet, you decide to focus exactly like that. You sit up and close your eyes. Reaching out to The Force. You focus on your breathing, making it steady and firm. You look out and feel. You feel warmth. Heat radiates to the right of you, as if a fire was lit right next to you. Your hand reaches out towards the flames, and you're met with Qimirs arm.

“What? What’s wrong?” He reacted, softly.

You shake your head side to side. “Nothing. Just didn’t know where you were.” Your hand leaves him and your skin feels warmed up as you take your hand away. You lay your back down onto the floor once again, and blink repeatedly and it looks like you aren’t even blinking from how dark it is.

Tension is in the air. So thick you could choke on the air. You swallow from nervousness and close your eyes in the hopes to fall back asleep.

After a couple of minutes of attempting to, you feel the fire grow closer. The flame starts to reach you, and you feel Qimir’s touch alongside your arm, caressing it.

Your breath hitches in your throat from the unexpected lingering touch. Qimir can’t hear how ragged your breathing became from the wind in the distance. Before he moves any more of his touch, he talks to you through the force.

“Do you feel the warmth too?” He finishes by saying your name.

You're speechless. You can't muster any words out of your mouth, let alone your brain. Although you don't want his touch to end, so you reciprocate it. Your hand on the arm he's touching reaches towards his chest. You rest it on his heart, feeling his heart bang against your palm.

He takes this as a yes to his question and positions himself in between you, and he does it so slowly. Your hands now plant themselves on his chest, and roam over his broad shoulders. His arms steady themselves beside each side of you. His thighs glue to yours and don't separate. Qimir lowers his chest until you can feel his face inches away from yours. He lingers his lips next to your ear instead of your lips, and speaks.

“When you think of desire, what do you feel?”

You sigh so loud next to him it moves his long hair next to his face. Your heart has never raced this hard in your life. You feel yourself shift below him, inpatient. Your hands that have rested on his shoulders now reach his chest, and you squeeze his shirt in your palms.

Even though your eyes remain open in the hopes to see Qimir, you never do, but you feel him move on top of you. He gets closer to you, instead of holding himself with his palms, he rests on his forearms.

Both of your chest heave next to each other in want. Resembling like you need to breathe each other in like air.

His right arm lifts, and you feel his warm touch rest on your cheek. He cups your cheek with his hand to finally know where your face is laid. He can navigate a bit better now in this pitch black abyss.

Qimir’s nose brushes yours, and you close your eyes, waiting for the inevitable kiss the two of you will share, but it never comes. He’s waiting. For you. He wants to know you want this. As it is considered to be an action Jedi forbid. Qimir doesn’t know how committed you really are.

You show him how much you want this by crashing your lips to his, feeling both of you kiss in sync. First, it's slow, and soft. But as more kisses were shared, the more hungry you both get.

chapter five here !

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 6

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you get settled into a routine until it gets interrupted; what is 'the gala' and why do you have to go to it?

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

You spend the next few days training with Felix and reading in your spare time. When you finish Pride and Prejudice, Hyunjin tells you at dinner to let yourself into his room to grab your new book from his nightstand. You fly through them, and every consequent time you finish a book you find yourself at Hyunjin’s door. Sometimes you would find a new book on his nightstand with your name on it, and other times Hyunjin would be in his room, painting. Sometimes you would try to make small talk, but often it would fall short. Not that it was awkward, you just didn’t have a lot to talk about. Every time you returned to your room and opened a new book, it would have a note from Hyunjin. Most of the time, it would have a short message about why ‘this is the perfect recommendation for you,’ and though you roll your eyes each time, he is almost always, infuriatingly right. 

Training with Felix doesn’t get any easier, at least at first. You’re able to shave just a few seconds off of your mile time, though your muscles ache more and more each day. You find yourself getting comfortable in this routine, of waking up to Felix waiting for you in the gym, of short conversations when running to distract you from the pain, and of small lingering touches on the small of your back when he teaches you how to fight. After breakfast you would read for a few hours, walk around the house, and sometimes make conversation with the others. You find yourself lonely sometimes, wishing that you had a phone or something to entertain yourself with, but oftentimes you find yourself binging TV. 

Seungmin might walk by and make an offhand comment about the show you're watching, claiming to have no interest, but will stand in the corner of the room with his arms crossed and pretend he’s not watching. Sometimes, you’ll find Jisung sleeping in some random corner of the house, snoring just loud enough to hear. Around dinner time, you help to prepare the food since you have nothing else to do, helping Jeongin set the table or making drinks with Changbin. You almost forget sometimes that these men are supposed to be dangerous. 

Until one day, your routine is interrupted. When you wake up, you hear yelling in the distance and you shoot out of bed, heart racing. You run to your door and think twice to open it, instead opting to press your ear up against it. You instantly recognize the voices as belonging to Felix and Chan, and while your breathing slows because you don’t sense any imminent danger, you can’t help but be curious about what the two could be arguing about. 

“Can’t!... S…pid idea!!” you hear Felix say. You will your heart to stop beating if only so you could hear them better. 

“D…owe me! W..ch… mind your tone.” The voices are getting closer, you realize, and you hear a door slam and a loud sigh before a knock comes to your own door. You jump back about six feet, your hand clutching your chest. 

You scramble to your bed, sitting down and picking up a book in order to appear normal, as if you weren’t eavesdropping.  You call for the visitor to enter, and the door swings open to reveal Chan. He appears seemingly level-headed which you wouldn’t expect from someone who engaged in an argument just seconds ago. 

“We’re leaving tonight,” Chan says to you. Your brow furrows in confusion and though you don’t know what to expect, you can already feel the anxiety pooling in your chest from this change in your routine. 

“Leaving? To go where?” 

“The Gala.” Okay, now you’re even more confused. It must show on your face, because Chan delves into an explanation before you can even ask. “Once a year, the city hosts an annual Gala. It’s meant for the richest, most elite people in the country for the sake of appearances. Even for people in the mafia, we have a lot of money and hold a lot of power over the city so they invite us. We’re expected to attend.”

“Okay… but what do I have to do with this?” 

“Do you remember the conversation we had about gaining my trust? There’s no way I feel comfortable leaving you alone after what you pulled. Secondly, Yang Jungwon is going to be there. Essentially, it’s our opportunity to show you off and piss him off, asserting that we have the upperhand.” 

Jungwon. You’ve thought about the man less and less over the past few days, busy navigating your new lifestyle. Still, hearing his name makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat, skin prickling in fear. You already begin imagining worst-case scenarios in your head, from getting screamed at to being straight-up murdered on the dance floor. Neither situation is appealing. 

Chan senses your discomfort and sighs. “I don’t know how much comfort this will provide, but all nine of us will be there to make sure you’re safe. You’ll have your own personal security the entire night. Nobody will put a hand on you.” 

You want to snap back and say you would be safer if he didn’t force you to go at all, but you bite your tongue. Even the technicalities of the event make you nervous. Your hair? Your makeup? You’ve never been to an event like this where you’re judged on your appearance and that makes you frown. What are the chances that you’ll actually look up to par? 

Your early-morning training session is forgotten about that morning due to the disruption. When you return to your room after breakfast, your door is wide open; Jeongin is inside, hanging a gown up on your wardrobe. You try not to ogle it too much in front of him but you can’t help yourself. The length of the dress reaches the floor, excess fabric pooling into a small train that’ll linger behind you when you walk. It’s silver and shimmery, its essence capturing the light that shines through the window just right. When you look around the room, you can see its reflection emanated onto the ceiling and walls, giving your room the appearance of a disco ball. 

You’re sure your expression doesn’t do justice to what you’re feeling at this moment, but Jeongin laughs anyway, soft and jovial. It’s enough to snap your attention back to the man, suddenly remembering his presence. 

“Do you like it?” he questions. His lopsided grin and bright eyes make you hesitate; why does he seem so invested in your response? ‘He loves fashion,’ you remember Felix telling you. It warms your heart–he must really care about your response. 

“I love it,” you say, and it’s the truth. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I almost don’t feel fit to wear something like this, it just seems so outside of my realm.” 

“I know what you mean,” he tells you. “That’s the beauty of dressing up, though. You can pretend to be someone you’re not.” You don’t get a chance to ask him what he means, because he’s handing you a shoebox and clasping his hands together in excitement. 

Of course the matching silver heels are extravagant, if not a little tall for your liking. You don’t tell him that, though, accepting the gift gratefully. 

Jeongin stands to the side for a moment and waits for you when you disappear into the bathroom and try the dress on. When you appear moments later after fighting with the intricacies of the zippers and layers, the smile on his face is full of wonder. You almost wonder if the glimmer in his eyes are remnant of the shine from your dress. 

When you turn around to do your makeup, you see his face fall from the mirror. You wonder what he could have possibly seen to kill his expression that fast and you panic, wondering if you ripped a part of the gown when you walked out of the bathroom. You whip around, catching his eye. 

“What?” you ask, full of urgency. 

“Your back,” he points out. When you turn to the mirror you see it, the lashes given to you by Chan the other day. They peek out of the back of the dress, raised, swollen, and ugly. 

You sigh, dejected. “It kind of ruins the outfit, doesn’t it?” you ask, slightly joking. He gives you a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“If I bandage them up for you, maybe it won’t be that bad,” he suggests. “We should have a bandage large enough, one that matches your skin tone!” You indulge him, curling your hair when he runs out of the room to go grab supplies. When he returns, it’s with an even larger first-aid kit than the one you used to patch yourself up on your first night here. 

You feel grateful when he sits behind you, color-matching your skin with bandages. He applies some ointment onto your skin under the bandage that makes you wince, but you’re grateful for his help. With the wounds being on your back, you haven’t been able to give them the adept attention it probably needed. You fill the silence with conversation. 

“If you love fashion so much, how did you end up here?” you’re reminded of Felix the other day, telling you that someone like yourself shouldn’t have ended up here, in a life surrounded by crime. You can’t help but share the sentiment with someone like Jeongin, someone with such an obvious passion and youthful glee that doesn’t belong here. It makes your heart squeeze with sadness and you feel overprotective over the man, to how you imagine one might feel with a younger brother. 

You feel his fingers still on your back when you ask the question. He returns to tending to your wounds just as fast, before responding sadly, “Things don’t always work out the way you want them to.” 

You think you understand Jeongin more than you’d like to admit. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When you walk down the hall Chan is waiting for you expectantly. 

“You look nice,” he tells you, and you flush because he can’t possibly mean it. Not when he looks so attractive and put-together, a demonstration of wealth. 

He wears a suit, navy slacks and blazer over a navy dress-shirt, adorned with red detailing along the hem, definitely designer. The fabric is so dark that you almost mistake it as black at first. His outfit does not have even a single wrinkle or speck of dust on it. He has a little gold pin on his lapel, and if you squint you can see that it resembles a rose. It shines even brighter than your own gown. His wrists are accessorized with silver jewelry, a bracelet on each wrist and a large ring on his pointer finger. Even better, his hair is styled and falls neatly, wisping just past his forehead, strands settling just beneath his eyes. He holds power in just his looks alone, intimidating in his well-tailored outfit. It even has you subconsciously straightening your back and wiping your face clean of any expression in response. 

So, yes, it feels a little surreal to have the Bang Christopher Chan complimenting you on your looks, but you know that if you are to accompany him tonight at the Gala you need to look just as put-together. 

In his hands he holds a long slender box, and he hands it to you. 

“What’s this?” You ask, accepting the box. 

“Just a little something for tonight. It’s nothing, really,” he says, but as you open the box your mouth drops open. 

The necklace you hold is elegant and you let it dangle from your hands, watching it sway back and forth in awe. It’s gold with a small pendant sitting at its end; a gold rose, to match his own pin. A claim. It’s easily the most expensive thing you’ve ever held in your hands but Chan shrugs it off lightly. 

“Here, let me,” he says, reaching for the necklace. You push your hair up and out of the way so he has easy access to your neck as he makes work to clasp it. His hands are ice cold in disagreement with the warm breath on your neck, and your skin prickles in response to the proximity. Then you feel the necklace settle on your chest and he steps away, the interaction over as fast as it started. 

He motions you to the front door, and outside there are two luxurious black cars waiting. Chan opens the door of one and motions for you to get inside. As you slide in, you take notice of the body sitting to your left. Felix. You look at him in the glow of the overhead light in the car and even then he looks majestic. He wears a suit, all white with white blazer and white dress shirt with small and intricate floral details that you would miss if you weren’t looking closely. You could mistake him for an angel with the way the color pops against his blemish-free skin. You think for a moment that even if you tried to scrutinize Felix, if you were to really look closely, you would still find that he is devoid of any imperfections. 

When you slide closer to him you notice the flowery yet musky scent of his cologne. Your body reacts to it and you find yourself leaning into it, trying to get a closer inspection of the smell and you shake your head at yourself in embarrassment. No way are you going to let yourself react in such a way to a man like Felix, deceiving innocent persona aside. 

When you look over at him, you see his eyes flit up and down your frame, taking in your appearance. His eyes linger for a moment and you swear you’ve imagined it, but he graces you with a smile before turning his gaze away.  You buckle your seatbelt and watch as Chan slides to the other side of you, and you are now wedged between the two men. You wonder if Chan thinks that you would try to run out of the moving vehicle, but you are not that dumb. 

The lights dim and the car sets in motion, weaving out of the driveway that is encased in the forest. You are reminded that it was only a few days ago Felix, Hyunjin and Changbin had retrieved you from your failed attempt at escape. This scene is awfully reminiscent, though Changbin drives and Seungmin is now in the passenger seat. Neither of the men speak.

All the meanwhile, you are completely and utterly tense. Not only are you hyper aware of every touch from the two men, Chan’s leg and body pressing into you whilst Felix leans away from you and toward the door, but you are also reminded of the fact that you will see him tonight. Jungwon. 

As if sensing your apprehensiveness, Chan begins to speak. 

“You'll be with at least one of us at all times,” he says. “He won’t be expecting to see you there, so we’ll have the upperhand, as I said earlier. You will be at my side the entire night, and if not you're not, you'll be with either Changbin or Felix. I don’t know how else to assure you of your safety, but you will be in good hands.” You nod your head silently. Felix glances over at you for a second and meets your eye, giving you a reassuring smile. 

When you arrive at the function, the car door is opened for you. Chan steps out and he holds out his hand for you to grab onto. You do so with minimal hesitation. You look up at the venue with wide eyes; if Chan’s house was big, then this is certainly a mansion. Neatly groomed shrubbery lines the illuminated walkway, white quartz that clicks against your heels when you walk. The white house is almost more windows than anything else and you can see the bustle of the party from inside. Everything about the house is extravagant, including the nameless servants and butlers in all black that satisfy the people’s every request, including holding the door open for you, Chan and his group of people to walk into. When you walk up the stairs you have to lift your dress up so you do not trip over it. 

Inside the main entrance is a large ballroom that is brightly lit, tables with white silk tablecloths pushed to the side in order to make way for an expansive dance floor. The room is full of people dressed just as eloquently as yourself, some of them moreso. In the corner, a pianist and violinist play light classical music that sets the mood.

You think about what your life would have been like right now if you weren’t acquainted with this group of people, that a second thought or look would’ve never been spared to you by any person in this room, and that in an entire lifetime you would have never gotten an invitation. These thoughts are pushed aside when you see a woman walking by holding a tray of refreshments, the glass of champagne looking awfully tempting to ease your nerves. When you glance at Chan he chuckles, waving his hand at you in permittance. 

“Go for it. Enjoy yourself, but don’t go overboard,” he says. You grab the glass eagerly and take small sips from it, attaching yourself closely to the group of men you arrived with. Your eyes dart around the ballroom, trying to see if you can find the man you recognize but are dreading to make contact with. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder and the familiar scent of cologne floods your senses. Felix. “Hey,” he says. “Dance with me.” 

The request takes you by surprise, but he uses that opportunity to guide you to the dance floor by the hand, giving you ample opportunity to move away. Your hands fall lightly on his shoulders, unsure, but when his hands meet your waist respectfully, you relax into him. Of course, you aren’t the only ones on the dance floor but it is still early into the night, most people still mingling or enjoying the refreshments. Your breath quickens and you’re filled with another wave of anxiety, eyes darting around as you sway back and forth to the music. Where is Jungwon? Why can’t you find him?

“Look at me,” Felix urges, and you do. In this lighting you take a moment to truly take in the details of his appearance. His blonde hair is combed through and pushed back, sprayed in place but with carefully selected pieces to frame his face. A small braid is woven through the side of his hair, leaving him with a half-up/half-down sort of hairstyle that once again reminds you of a fae. You also notice that he’s wearing earrings, a small set of silver hoops that brings the whole look together. 

“I’m nervous,” you admit. Your eyes are wide open and you have to remind yourself to breathe and breathe and breathe. 

“Don’t be,” he says. “You’ve never been safer.” He reaches and tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ears and peers into your eyes, and you feel utterly seen by him. You know he knows every thought you’re thinking and that he can sense every unshallow breath you take. You also know that this action of sweeping you away to the dance floor is meant to be a distraction, a way to keep you from being nervous about the events from tonight. Why does Felix care so much? What will happen when Jungwon sees you tonight? Will he try to talk to you? There’s not going to be a fight, not tonight, not in front of all these people, right? 

“You look beautiful tonight.” Felix somehow knocks all thoughts of Jungwon out of your head, which is seemingly exactly what he planned to do. 

“What?” You say, eyes searching his face for any dishonesty. There is none. You become nervous once again tonight, and this time it isn’t because of Jungwon. 

“You look beautiful,” he repeats. “Stunning.” The hands on your hips guide you to the music and he eases you to lean into him more. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you earlier. Your hair, your makeup, your shoes… I feel greedy when I look at you because I’m happy that you’ve been able to stay with us so far. I like knowing that you’re safe and nobody else can get to you again, but also… I want to see you like this more often. I know the circumstances aren’t ideal,” he says. “But your face lit up today for the first time since you’ve been in the house with us. I just want it to stay like that. I don’t know why, but I want you to stay happy.” He smiles at you and your face is so on fire that you just have to look away, unable to meet his unwavering gaze any longer without falling apart. 

However, when your eyes trail away, your eyes recognize somebody in the crowd and your blood runs cold. Not Yang Jungwon, however. 

Woojin. 

“Felix,” you say urgently. You know the concern is evident in his voice but his face doesn’t change expressions, an evident poker-face masking his features. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

His hands never leave your waist. 

“W-Woojin,” you stammer. 

“Shit. Okay. Tell me exactly what you see,” he urges. You keen your head over slightly, standing on tiptoes to get a better view of the situation. Woojin appears to be talking to someone but they have their back turned to you. He’s tall, burgundy hair swept to the side with a straight, powerful stance. As if he senses your gaze, the man turns around and looks over his shoulder. You stiffen. 

“Heeseung,” you whisper to him. Felix’s lips purse into a tight-lipped smile and his brows furrow. You can tell that fact makes him tense which unnerves you further. 

“We need to find Chan,” he says. “If Woojin is talking to Heeseung, there’s a possibility that ENHA can find out about the infiltration mission. Minho could be in danger.” His hands fall from your hips and you find yourself immediately missing the contact but he opts for taking your hand instead, leading you towards the area where all of SKZ is waiting. Felix urges you to stay calm, act natural, and take a deep breath. His words are reassuring.

Chan is talking to another man, an acquaintance you can only presume. Felix drops your hand, passing you to Changbin to watch over you. “Stay here,” he says, and he walks over to Chan to speak into his ear.  

Changbin looks over at you, noticing your distress. “Can I use the bathroom?” You say suddenly. Your heart is beating right out of your chest, you can’t steady your breathing, and you feel dizzy and uncomfortable on your feet. You might throw up. You feel your chest tightening and you feel the need to just splash some water onto your face. Changbin hurriedly walks you across the ballroom and waits for you outside of the bathroom, giving you an opportunity to take a deep breath. It’s quiet in here, the noise from the music ensemble not quite making it past the doors. You hope that Woojin and Heeseung haven’t noticed you yet, but you remind yourself that Chan probably has a plan.  Taking a deep breath, you grab a wet paper towel and use it to blot your face, trying to cool yourself down without  ruining your makeup. The time spent alone was well-used, you think, and you can feel yourself starting to become calm. You open the door, ready to face the situation at hand again. You peer around the corner, immediately noticing Changbin’s absence. Strange, you think, but that’s the last thought you have before feeling a hand gripping your chin and holding something over your mouth and nose, rendering you incapable of breathing. 

“Hello, love,” you hear. You could recognize that voice, the voice of your past lover anywhere, even in your nightmares. “Did you miss me?” You have no chance to answer before your vision fades to black. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

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[ellatoone7]

Long day (Leah Williamson x reader)

It was getting darker earlier now, a sure sign that winter was nearing, that and the goosebumps littering over Leah’s tanned skin as it whipped through her hair, making the blood rush through her ears in the best way possible.

Winter trainings were always tough, the bitter cold stinging the defenders bright eyes making it nearly impossible to see the ball. It was all worth it though as she was enveloped by the warmth of her car and the thoughts of what was waiting for her at home.

Leah didn’t waste any time getting home, her playlist blaring as she hums gently to the lyrics that always reminded her of you. Leah loved football, it was a huge part of her life and she cherished every second of it, but, it didn’t come close to how much she loved you.

In fact Leah loved you so much that as long as she had you in her life, she would be content with never playing another match again. She didn’t fail to remind you of that every day, from waking you up with soft, loving kisses and breathless confessions of love that was so sacred to the both of you, all the way to the lazy evenings full of cuddles on the couch and whispered affections.

Leah craved those dark mornings tangled in linen sheets and soft limbs, so connected that you couldn’t tell where one started and the other finished. This morning for example, a rare day, where Leah didn’t have to get up at an ungodly hour, now that it was winter her trainings had been pushed further up in the evening, leaving the still mornings at her beck and call.

Strong biceps curled around your midsection, holding on as if you were some divine being that would disappear at the slightest loosen of her grip. The gentle breathing, that the defender claims eagerly is not snoring, though you would beg to differ, fans the back of your neck as the serene surrounding of pure adoration consumes the room fully.

That exact same fondness that paints the walls of your house welcomes the tired blonde back into its familiar structure. Leah’s home however isn’t slabs of concrete or treasured pictures littering every inch of the building, but it’s the comforting figure that she just knows is standing in kitchen, waiting for food to magically appear out of thin air.

Leah drops her kit bag next to the homemade shoe shelf Steph had made the both of you after Leah missed a match due to a single shoe and a rolled ankle. The blonde chuckled at the memory as she threw the keys into the designated bowel while heeling the front door shut.

“Babe?” Although knowing exactly where you were, she couldn’t help but be impatient as she hears the soft pattering of your fluffy socked feet. You smoothly slid into the corridor with the most prized worthy grin lighting up every inch of your perfect face.

Just like her previous actions, you did not waste a second, cupping her defined jaw and pulling her into a kiss that could mistaken the fact that Leah had only been gone for a few hours. The gentle tug of her hair pulled her back into the blissful reality that was you, her hands had found the place on your hips that they had been familiarised with for so long, pulling you in until the space between the both of you was nonexistent.

“Hi.” One simple word mumbled against her lips in a humour full manor, a breathless chuckle following from her own mouth as she peppers kisses against your flushed cheeks.

“God, people would think you’ve been gone for months with this greeting.” You chuckled as lips worshipped your neck, “We won’t tell people that it’s only been a few hours then.”

Her deep London accent was muffled as she placed one final kiss against the volume of your throat.

Foreheads met and eyes locked as you found comfort in each others space, “For what it’s worth, I missed you.” You couldn’t help but melt into her, nuzzling your cheek against hers while breathing her in, “I missed you too.” You pulled back slightly before continuing, “You know what else I missed? When you didn’t smell, go take a shower, Lee.”

A laugh bubbled up as you watched the defender scoff in offence, “Rude!” You nodded while wiping her sweaty strand of hair out of her face with a playful grimace. Leah swatted your hands away as she grumbled childishly, “Okay! okay, I get it.” The blonde started towards the stairs before turning backs around with an eyebrow raised, “Wanna join me?”

“As much as I would love to, I have some baking to do, so I will regretfully leave you to it,” Leah chuckled while solemnly nodding, you watched her slightly disappointed expression and decided to meet her halfway, “…but, I can offer you a kiss?”

Her blue eyes lit up again like they always seem to do when she’s near around you, leaning up on your tiptoes you pressed a timid kiss to her eager lips before quickly stepping back much to the tall blondes dismay. Her lips followed yours and you gave into her meeting her in the middle in a melting kiss.

Her sweaty stature was the last thing on your mind as you wrapped your arms around her neck, she slightly lifted you off the ground pressing you against her fully.

After what felt like a too small eternity, you gently stepped back, “That’ll give you something to think about.” She lightly groaned before quickly stealing one more kiss, “Don’t be a tease.” You giggled before pushing at her chest gently, “Go, get cleaned up and then get down here to help me with these stupid cookies.”

Leah smiled before putting her hands up innocently, she made her way upstairs with a satisfied sigh and you watched her go before heading back to the kitchen.

[newnlovesjennie]

op hcs: having a self care day with them!

featuring zoro, sanji, and usopp! cws: none!

zoro:

has no idea or concept of what self care is, he’d much rather spend his time training

until you properly explain it to him, and a little lightbulb pops above his head and he says meditation!

you’ve never been the meditating type, but your boyfriend so earnestly insisted that it’s the best kind of self care there is, so you decided to try it

sitting beside him, you put aside the thoughts and troubles about everything tumultuous of a pirates life and focused on your breathing, or rather, his breathing, the inhaling and exhaling keeping you grounded

the waves crashed around you, the sunny tranquilly drifted about, and you let everything be. after a while, you felt your attention begin to shift, but zoro knew (damn observation haki) and intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your mind a new outlet to focus on— his warm hand, callouses tracing around your fingers, keeping you present.

needless to say, you felt much more relaxed that day.

sanji:

he’d simply been WAITING for you to finally take a break, to finally admit you needed a day of rest, and he was certainly more than happy to aid you in that unwinding

expect a warm bubble bath with rose petals to greet you after his fanciful lunch prepared just for you, to your tastes, featuring every food you’d want to indulge in

of course, sanji would never pass up on an opportunity to massage his beautiful girlfriend (no ulterior motives, promise!), using his skillful hands to ease up every tension and knot you may have lingering in your body, after weeks of traveling and fighting

you may worry you’ve over exhausted your poor boyfriend with all these requests, but worry not, for sanji’s heart is swelling at every moment he gets to pamper and indulge the love of his life

so, the two of you fall into a slumber, happy from the days events in your own respective ways.

usopp:

for a hard worker like usopp, self care days may seem a bit out of place for him, but he’s more than willing to try for his girlfriend!

he starts by braiding your hair in the most beautiful design you’ve seen that you almost wish you were going to a party that day, but he reassured you that a day as important as a rest day deserves an important hairstyle too!

listen, i know this may seem far fetched, but i totally hc him as a skincare dude— he’d fetch those adorable animal sheet masks and the two of you’d wear it while watching some form of entertainment, in this case, sanji had found zoro stealing sake from the fridge at nighttime and they’re having a fight over it on the deck, so you two watch that!

being kaya’s only friend, he had to learn some “girly” activities like painting nails, which he happily did for you while suggesting the best colors (you tried getting him to paint his own nails, and after many requests, he accepted. meet pink nailed usopp!)

you go to sleep with your skin cleared, your hair perfected for the next couple days, and your adorable boyfriend curled up next to you.

[calicough]

leave your heart alone until it beats for me – hazel callahan

— life is filled with uncertainties, with you being hazel's biggest.

pining. hazel is whipped but doesn't want to do anything about it.

hazel was aware about your existence even before the fight club started. you were the person who usually sits at the third row in every class that you both share. not too far from the board that every important information taught by the teacher would be drowned out by the noises of your classmates, but not too close to the board either that you'd need to pretend to be interested in the teacher's life story. you were the person that she once caught napping on the bleachers that one time she decided to watch the cheerleaders' train, purely out of boredom because she doesn't want to go home yet. you were the person who borrowed one of her pens but never returned because as soon as the class ended, you were already out the door. but she's not complaining because she has a lot of pens (that was her favorite pen and she is too shy to ask for it back).

when you entered through the gymnasium doors, hazel was surprised. she did not expect you to join the fight club because... well... you're you. you are the living embodiment of a celestial being in her eyes. a doll who came to life and is somehow in rockbridge falls. to her, you were the most beautiful girl to ever walk in the hallways of this hellhole. every time she saw you leaning by your locker chatting with isabel and brittany, you were somehow bathed in sunlight even though there was little to no natural light entering the school's halls. to her, your radiating beauty is so strong that the bathroom stall that you were in was somehow illuminating (your phone's flashlight was accidentally turned on that time). she didn't want to see your face painted in black and blue, and she definitely didn't want to be the one causing those nasty bruises.

she, however, did paint your face black and blue. her face was also in the same state. "twinsies!" you exclaimed with a huge grin on your swollen face and blood dripping down your nose, which hazel found extremely endearing. unbeknownst to her, the rest of the fight club took notice of this and made it their life's mission to pair you up in everything. from training to studying to even going to the bathroom. because of this, the two of you became close. pj and brittany had an ongoing bet on who will confess first: pj is betting on hazel while brittany is betting on you. but days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and eventually, the both of them forgot about their bet.

you and hazel are good friends at this point but she knows deep down that she just doesn't want to be friends with you. she wants to be more. she wants you to look at her like how she looks at you. she wants you to notice the quick longing glances that she would take whenever you are together and the way her hand would lightly graze yours whenever you're walking beside each other. she wants you to return her pen and jokingly steal it from her because that's what girlfriends do. she had contemplated on confessing the feelings that she harbors for you but every time she would find herself typing the words she had always wanted to say, she would delete and forget about her phone until it rings again.

life is filled with uncertainties, but to hazel, you are her biggest uncertainty. she doesn't want to get rid of her friendship with yours. heck, she's not even sure if you like her the same way. do you even like her? are you just being nice to her? is she even worth your time? thoughts like these plague her mind every time she's in bed. she doesn't want to force you to like her, no. that's the last thing that she wants. she wants you to like her for who she is and to fall for her naturally.

until that time comes, hazel will wait for you until your heart beats for her.

waaa ^^ this is my first entry on this account. thank you for reading and i hope you guys enjoyed it! feedback is always appreciated :]

[laduenadelswing]

A special connection

I went to the gym and thought : let’s write something about that :)

König who loves working out in the gym will do everything to get his regular workout in. Not because he really cares that much about his health, more that he cares about seeing you. How couldn't he be obsessed with you, your infectious smile, the cute laughter, the way you wear your gym shorts and glance at the floor sometimes. He loves that you get all flustered as soon as you see his imposing physic. He sometimes imagined how your small statute feels under his big hands. In summer, he especially loved seeing you in a sports bra. Seeing your soft and bouncy boobs in the skintight shirt made him weak, the way you walked into the Gym that day, he almost choked on his saliva when you walked past him. That day you turned around and smiled for the first time, his heart didn't skip a beat, it stopped.

His luck was temporary, since he got deployed the following day. Oh, God! He missed you, in the skin tight outfits and the bra, your soft and squishy body was just so perfect. He was alone in the desert, he thought about more often than he liked to admit. Would you still be there when he came back? He did not know your name, still you were the object of his primal desires. Even your lips seemed so perfectly soft, so kissable. When you squatted some weights in his sight, he could not look away. König was playing a very dangerous game, but he enjoyed it too much to stop. He is just a man, after all.

He came back from deployment a little bit leaner than he was before. The lack of food and the spare time being the main reason he was lean. As he trained late at night, his favourite Eye candy walked into the gym, he was craving something sweet anyway. You looked at him a little dumbfounded at first, then smiled. You did not expect this unit of a man to show up in your Gym. Furthermore, you haven't seen him in a while, he was tall with broad shoulders, messy hair and the most piercing blue eyes you have ever seen. A couple of months ago you were determined to talk to him, König always trained alone, throwing around your bodyweight and using it as a warm-up set. He was an intriguing man, a hot man with a narrow waist. How could you resist? He didn't look shy from the outside, but the fact that he never talked to anyone was suspicious to you.

The training session went well, your eyes wandered from König from time to time, the way he effortlessly moved so much weight, made you feel a little embarrassed when you compared light weights. Today just wasn't your day, you could not adjust the weights, because you were just too short. Frustration was painted over your face, and that might have been the only opportunity for König. He walked up to you, looking down in your eyes who seemed to sparkle in the lights of the weight room, could there be anything more adorable than you?

“Can I help you?” He asked, scratching his neck anxiously. You looked surprised but intrigued.

“ Can you adjust my weights, I can't do more than 20kg and someone forgot to put on some normal weights.” You explained, annoyed.

“My bad.” He mumbled. You looked a little embarrassed, a little anxious even.

“ Oh my, I am sorry, I didn't mean to insult you.” Now you were the one scratching your neck. Oh God, König couldn't comprehend how much he wanted to wrap his hand around this petite neck of yours.

“ No Problem. I am not insulted. Do you need someone to spot you?” König offered his help. You nodded.

As your physical training continued, a bond started to grow. König loved how you made silly remarks, jokingly flexing a little next to him. You loved that he put on your lighter weights after his set was done. He was so nice, why did you never talk before?

After your training session was over, you took a shower in the Gym and got ready, stepped outside the dressing room and saw König standing there. Did he just wait for you? His hair was still a little wet, he smelled like shower gel and deodorant. “Did you take a shower, or did you wait for me?“ König smiled. “Both, I wanted to ask if you are interested in……” König walked towards the entrance and opened the door for you.

Outside the Gym, he just looked at you, not being able to finish the sentence and ask her out. His anxiety got the better of him.

“König? Do you want to grab dinner with me?” At that moment, König began blushing.

[heartilywrites]

korra x air bender!reader pleasee, maybe as tenzin’s eldest daughter??

this one was definitely a challenge, but i got it figured. i got SO immersed in this story that i think it's best to do two parts to cover everything. let's go part one!!!

،، 𝓣o be loved and to be in love ; Korra (p. 1)

request guide | masterlist

to part 2 >

resume: where a love story goes all the way back to the playground.

content warning: fluff ; angst ; mentions of Mako and Korra's relationship ; airbender and fem!reader being Tenzin's older daughter ; Korra and reader being the most oblivious people ; childhood friends to lovers ; no use of y/n ;

wc: 2.7k

a/n: I know it's not specified how long Lin and Tenzin took to break up but since I made the reader a year younger than Korra let's say it was reaaaally long before she was born, yeah?

“ To be just friends, you're too beautiful. To just stay as friends, I know I'll regret this.

A breathe in to feel how the light fill your body entirely from your crown chakra to your earth one and a breathe out to let all the bad energies out of your body, feeling how the relaxation started to reign on every inch of your being, how you started to drif—

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “MEELO, STOP! MOOOOM!” ah, yes, of course, you forgot about that.

You sighed exhausted, in front of you, Korra laughed a little bit opening one eye to see you. “Very relaxing, huh?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Tell me about it.” instead of trying again to meditate, you stretched your arms upwards. “Any luck this time?”

Korra shook her head, disappointed. “I lost the connection forever.” you grimaced a bit before taking her hand and leave caresses.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You'll be okay, you still have your friends to guide you. You have me.” a peaceful smile painted your face, she blushed a little bit while reciprocating the gesture.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “And I have two airbending masters.” she poked your side making you laugh a little bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “One, I don’t have my tattoos yet.” you said, standing up from the floor. “Let's go, I think they're waiting for you.”

You helped the southerner to stand up, the hand she took felt warm making your heart skipped a beat.

Korra and you knew each other since almost diapers; one year after her, you were born. Tenzin couldn’t be more happy when he found out how close on age you two were, he made his mission for you two to be close almost as family, the airbender trusted you would help Korra with the air part of her training. He would take you with him to the Southern Water Tribe to visit her, there were weekends were he would let you stay with your grandmother to have more play time with Korra. And it worked, Korra was your first friend and you were hers, she would tell you everything just as you to her. You got a secret handshake, a secret place to hide when you two wanted to be alone, always being one beside the other in everything you could, you showed Korra some tricks with air as she did with water, earth and fire.

But just as families drift apart, once you got older and learned about more deep and complicated feelings, you realize how you saw Korra as something more than a friend. You found yourself wondering how would it feel to walk with her by the hand like the couples you've seen in the city, what would it be like to introduce her as your girlfriend, how her lips would taste like... And so you decided to step away from her a little bit. You only went to the south with your father or at important occasions or send her a couple of letter every other week. It wasn't that you didn't want to be with her anymore, it was just that she felt unreachable to you and you were so sure if at some point you said how you felt to her she would turn you down by saying how she sees you as a younger sister, because that was how she referred to you all those years. Her younger sister.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “How come Jinora can go with you but we don't!?” you heard Ikki claim to her dad and a big smile showed on your face.

Your eyes wandered to your friend, feeling a punch in your gut when you saw her with Mako.

You knew something was going on between them after she arrived to the air temple island and escaped to see probending. She would come to your room to talk about a gorgeous boy who was in a probending group as the firebender, three nights after she would talk to you about how he was in a relationship with another girl who she didn't liked and the day after how Pema gave her the idea to confess. That was pretty much enough for you to start your journey to another temples, you brought up the idea to Tenzin masking it up as your opportunity to visit those places by yourself as part of your spiritual journey and even though at first try he stood by his negative answer, when he saw how desperate you were to get out of the island he let you go. It was safe to say you didn't know if Mako and her were still together or not since when you came back she never mentioned a thing, everyone was so busy about the new emergence of airbenders and you were trying to help Korra see if she could reconnect with her past lives, clearly without any success.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You coming?” Korra asked your way, making you change your face to a more neutral expression.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm not, sorry.” you answered, hugging yourself. “I'll be at the northern temple waiting for you, there are thing to take care of there before the other benders arrived. Jinora will go, though, so you have two airbender masters in the ship.”

Your sister smiled big at her recognition. Korra, on the other hand, had a indescribable grimace. She wanted you around, she already was away from you for months and now that you came back to her, she didn't want to lose you from her sight again.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Are... you sure? We could go met Ba Sing Se, remember how we said we should go together?” she stepped closer, you were so close to give up and go, but the sight of Mako stepping in the ship made your heart drop, you smiled through the discomfort, you didn't want to see them go all lovey-dovey in your face.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sure, we'll explore Ba Sing Se together when all this is over.” you assured stepping to give her a hug. “Take care, I'll see you in some days.”

After they left you stood one more moment in your place, Ikki walked to you and stood by your side. “You should've kiss her for good luck.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Okay, that's all.” you said while turning around over your heels to walk back inside.

A couple hours after they left, you took your own journey to the north. A goodbye was said to your mother, siblings and aunt while loading some food to your flying bison and your thoughts were your only companion all that time.

At the beginning it was all good, thinking the activities you needed to do, hoping on all sacred there were enough acolytes to help you and time spare, but once the sun started to set you found yourself thinking about Korra. About those times were you two stopped playing to see the sunset on the water tribe, talking about what you two would do once she was able to live the compound to the city. You would tell her about festivals with so many games and lights that you loved and you were sure she would love too or maybe about how the city lights look so beautiful at night, specially the bridge, how it looked warmer than the water tribe's lights.

How stupid, you thought, you needed to start to move on from her, there was no use in staying stuck in that infatuation if it wasn’t reciprocated.

Once you landed at the temple, it was time for you to get your head in the plans for the newcomers.

The next days felt as if you were in autopilot, helping your dad at everything you could, training the new benders by groups and seeing some other things for the future. The day that Zaheer went to the temple, Meelo and you were instructed to stay by the radio for news as Tenzin was told there could be a new airbender coming and he wanted to be informed once they were near.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Did you know we found a whole herd full of baby bison?” you heard your brother said, at the distance while you were walking slowly to the radio room with a big bowl of fruit for the two of you, but obviously you were taking pieces of fruit for yourself.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “No, a whole herd!? really– agh!” you laugh listening how they took Bolin out of the radio. “Meelo, this is your commander officer, go get your dad now!” the avatar's tone made you shiver a bit and stopping on your steps.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yes, sir!” his feet sounded on the ground, you tried to stopped him to ask, but he was fast to continue. “Not now, woman! I am a man on a mission!”

A frown settled into your face, you were quick to run to the radio leaving the bowl down. “Korra, what's going on!?”

She said your name with such a relief, like she waited for decades to hear you voice. “Listen to me! Zaheer is on his way to the temple, he's going for all the airbenders, you have to get everyone out of there immediately! Drop everything and leave!”

The sound of an airship made you turn around, Tenzin just got by your side, your face fell when you saw the green ship. Korra demanded to hear what was happening when the airbender complained. “It's too late, Korra... He's here.” your voice said trembling.

The avatar couldn't admit it in a loud voice, but at the vague thought of losing you over the Red Lotus would definitely be her last straw. Even though you didn't thought she would, Korra noticed how you where slipping away from her and she grieved that deeply. She was so convinced you were going to be in her life all the time, she had pictured you two growing old in the city or in the air temple island, there was no way she could live without you.

It was at some point when she arrived from the south and was almost every hour of the day by your side that she stopped to think about the way she felt about you, it was... It definitely couldn't be friendship if she felt for you the same way she did with Mako, right? But even before she could figure out and tell you about it you were gone to the temples leaving her confuse and convincing herself that maybe it was a sign to try things with the firebender.

The fights for freedom on the temple pass for you as if it was on fast foward, you tried to help as much as you could, but mainly you tried to keep Rohan and your mother safe as she carried the younger of all. And to everyone's bad luck, the Lotus got every airbender and the last avatar's children.

Sitting beside you there was your sister spiritually projecting to look for a way out, at her words she saw how it was up to everyone there to leave when Ikki mentioned Korra.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What did you really saw?” you whispered to her, she turned to look at you with worry shining in her eyes.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Korra, they're trying to end the avatar cycle.” she answered after some silence, you felt her hands look for yours when your gaze looked away.

When the youngers came with a plan to escape and executed it, the rest of Korra's team, her dad and the Beifongs appeared through, literally, a wall. You were so relieved to see them, once they got you untied you went to Tonraq. He calmed a little bit to see you well, the chief knew how important you were for his daughter, and he had come to appreciate you like part of his family too.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Let me help you get Korra out of there.” you asked him, the man shook his head without any doubt.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We got this, you should go help your dad, we'll get Korra out of here.” he assured, patting you on your shoulder before leaving with the brothers.

You helped your aunt to walk out of the prision they set the nomads, minutes after the waterbender ran outside saying how his daughter needed help.

Looking up you catch Korra impulsing herself with fire, attacking however she could and you felt your heart in your throat. Jinora had come with a plan to help her and you could just only wish it worked; seeing her fall without any support made you jump a little bit, not worrying about how Zaheer hit the floor in his stomach.

Your feet ran to her after Tonraq arrived and kneeled not so far to see her. Breaking in cold sweat, she was fighting for her life and the avatar cycle, you teary-eyed to the point you could only deference the girl by her silhouette and when she closed her eyes you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You can help her,” you heard Jinora at your back. “The venom is metallic.” your head turned to look to your sister and then Su who rushed to the southerner.

You stood up to leave the metalbender work, walking to Jinora. She hugged you by the waist and you could only rest an arm in her shoulders while watching how it went down.

The sound of Korra taking a deep breath in and seeing the grey liquid come out of her mouth made you let go the breathe you didn’t know you were holding, Jinora's arms tighten in her hug so you hugged her back the same way, now letting happy tears go.

The next days, you promised to stay at the air temple island. After almost losing Korra forever, you attached to her however you could. She was grateful for that, she felt as if she could breath again with you by her side, but she was so tired and weak that couldn’t say it to you.

With help, a second bed was moved to the room the avatar was staying at. You could help her eat by bringing each meal to her, brushed her hair every night, tried to lift her up by reminding the shared memories back when she was still at the south. She didn't sleep much and you stayed awake by her side the times needed, when she wanted to have someone by her side but wouldn't say it to you out loud, you knew her enough to understand what she needed most of the times and the hours she could catch of sleep weren't much as she woke up after screaming as a nightmare took her peace time.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's okay, you're safe, you're okay.” you usually said waking up with her, quickly going to her side and hugging her. She snuggled to you, looking for shelter. “I'm here, you're okay.”

After two weeks from the events, Jinora had her ceremony naming her airbender master finally and you couldn't be more proud of your little sister, she deserved it.

You helped Korra get ready for the ceremony while humming a melody in low voice.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “A look an avatar deserve, you look gorgeous as always.” you said showing her reflection, Korra smiled however she could. You kneeled to her side, making her follow you with her eyes. “No one expects you to be recovered right now, it's more than fine to take your time healing.”

The blue orbs were teary-eyed at your words, her hand looked for yours.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You can count that I'll be here by your side to celebrate when you're back on your feet to kick asses like before.” your hand gave hers a light squeeze before leaving a short kiss in her knuckles.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I appreciate you.” she said hoarsely out of nowhere, you gave her a fondly smile. “So much, I don't know what I would do without you.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I appreciate you too, Korra.” your hand left hers to cup a side of her face. “You'll always have me, you can't free yourself so easily.” your smile just got bigger. “We'll talk more later, let's go, they're waiting for us.”

Later, Korra thought, she knew that later her family and her would be on a boat to the Southern Water Tribe and you'll have to stay there with your family since you had a duty to fulfill, you weren't going to see her as much as you did so far. And with what the future hold for you both was just prove how strong your love could go.

[kedreeva]

on the topic of peafowl play, would/do peafowl enjoy those pet puzzle toys? would they have the patience or interest to complete 1 outside of food motivation? i don't know why but i always imagine peafowl as the brilliant but lazy types and i wonder if that headcanon of mine has any plausibility lol

I gave my peafowl one of those chicken treat puzzles (this one) which they are supposed to peck/scratch at and roll around, which drops scratch grain slowly on the ground and gives them something to do until it is empty. It's basically two yellow bowls bungee-corded together by a single cord on the inside, anchored at that little black nub. You fill one half, and then "seal" it as a ball- but it's not clipped together or anything, just bungee tension holds it together.

I set it down for Aris for the first time, and rolled it so she could see it had scratch in it that would fall out. She pecked it once, examined it for roughly 10 seconds, and then grabbed it by the little black nub, and shook the hell out of it, bursting it open and flinging scratch all over the pen. She dropped it and everyone went about their business eating the scratch.

I taught Eris how to press buttons to "speak" to me; she had a few treat buttons, a food button, a water button, and some Word word buttons like "want" and "Eris" and "yes" and "no." She used them to argue with me and make fun of me for forgetting to put water in her wet food one day.

I gave Bug toilet paper rolls with holes cut in them, stuffed with paper towels and superworms. She learned to pull the paper towel out almost immediately. She gets a bowl of fresh foods when she goes into her pen in the mornings, and it started with me walking in and coaxing or carrying her in. Now she goes and waits on the perch where I put the bowl. I give anything leftover she didn't eat to the barn crew, so when I go to collect her in the evening, Polaris and Opal are usually waiting on the table where I put the bowl.

I bring Artemis indoors to do paintings with her, and she knows the order is indoors->bath->dry off->painting+treats, so if I bring her in, and she gets a bath, and I wait too long in the drying off, she will start scolding me until we start painting.

If I let the birds out of their pens, they get free range time while I'm outside. When I call "hup hup!" loudly and repeatedly, they all start walking back to the coops. Many of them know up commands. Artemis and Bug have both learned to put their trains up if I ask (and that's a no-treat trick, they just do it). Beep knew "ask nicely" when she wanted something (which is what led to me training Eris with the buttons), so she would scrape her beak on me if she wanted something. Beep also played with a lot of different toys.

I guess the point is that they are pretty smart birds, given a chance and good circumstances. They can be incredibly stupid, too, but the majority of them are pretty smart most of the time. But they don't have a lot of patience for things that are not either immediately rewarding or that they choose to focus on. Beep once spent an hour trying to get the button off my jeans, but if you offer Bug a mouse and move it away before she can get it, she'll usually just stop caring. If you give a treat to one bird, they might snub it, but they'll kill a man for it if someone else gets it and acts like it's good.

So COULD they become interested in a pet puzzle and possibly solve one? Maybe? It really just depends on what's in it for them, and/or how interested someone else is, and/or if they think it's their idea. They don't really have a lot of grabbing strength in their beaks, so that factors in, too. They do NOT like to peck hard things.

They DO like to destroy stuff though. If you could make an edible tissue box, they would absolutely lose their shit about it. Every peafowl I've ever owned LOVES tearing tissues out of a tissue box and ripping tissues to shreds to try to eat. Don't know what that's about. Leftover raptor instincts to disembowel things, I guess.