#I never know what snippets work best on their own

[inkedroplets]

WIP Wednesday Friday

thank you so much @sideguitars and @eqt-95 for the tag Here's an excerpt from the last Chapter of Rich Girl that should be out shortly if work stops occupying every moment of free time.

Kara stared up at the hologram. At Lena. Before she could stop herself she reached out as if it was something she could touch. Her fingertips passed through it and she drew her hand back as quickly as if she had been burned. She stood up on legs as shaky as a newborn foal. Her eyes roamed the hologram’s face with a desperate kind of greed.

Lena’s hologram fidgeted, almost appearing to waffle under Kara’s intense scrutiny. Not that such a thing was possible. The real Lena, the one who would likely blush under the intensity of her gaze was still lying in the operating room. This Lena before her was something else entirely. A recording. A memory. “Hello, Kara.” Lena’s hologram smiled wryly. “If you ever watch this… If you are watching this, it means something has happened to me…” She considered this particular turn of phrase incredibly carefully, lips pursed as she did so. “It means that I’m no longer around…” Again she seemed to ponder her choice of words very carefully, lips pushed together in a tight line that was not quite a frown. She must have found the right words because her smile returned, weak and shivery like moonlight glimpsed through a scrim of clouds. “If you’ve already heard, already know that I've died, you don’t know what really happened. You don’t know the truth and I think you deserve to hear it.”

Kara took in breath in a series of shuddering gasps as tears slipped down her face. She brushed them away, shaking her head so strongly it dislodged a few tears. They glittered like tiny jewels as they fell.

"After what I planned to do with Myriad, what I did to you in the Fortress… Trapping you there… leaving you…" Lena's hologram closed their eyes tight. From the way her shoulders began to quiver, Kara thought she might begin to cry but when Lena opened her eyes again, no tears fell. "I knew,” she said and each word seemed to cause her pain, “I could no longer trust myself. How could I when I had deluded myself into pursuing something so terrible? Realizing how easy it was for me to justify myself again and again when I had misgivings. And hurting you like I did…” Her voice tapered off and her eyes closed as she took a deep breath. “No better than Lex,” she said and the revulsion on her face momentarily twisted her features into a moue of self-loathing. 

“So I scuttled every one of my projects at L-Corp. Put them on indefinite hold until I could be sure that I wouldn't misuse them. I told myself it was a temporary measure.” She flashed a rueful smile and shook her head slowly.  “But with nothing for me to do but dwell on everything that had happened, everything I’d done, I was drowning,” she said with a solemn finality that broke Kara’s heart.

"I hardly ever left my office. I wasn't sleeping and I was drinking too much. I knew things couldn’t continue that way much longer but I was afraid.” She smiled sadly. “I still wanted to do good but I wasn’t sure if I could be good.” She tilted her head sideways as if to say do you understand the difference? Kara thought she did. 

“I’m a Luthor, after all,” she said in a tired monotone, that of a person who has been forced to  retell a joke they didn’t find very funny the first time around. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Most people think that we’re incapable of being anything in the ballpark of good and after what I did, I can’t say I blame them. When I used to hear people whisper about me behind my back, or when they’d tell me to my face how much they despised me, how I wasn’t fooling anyone, I took most of it in stride. All the more fun to prove them wrong, I thought.” She laughed, although there wasn’t a shred of humor in her voice as she did so. “But not all of it,” Lena admitted, dropping her voice to a low whisper, looking ashamed to say so out loud. “At times it could be so exhausting. Tolerated but never trusted.  Having people not just expect the worst from me but to see them almost want to see it happen. Like the concept of a good Luthor was an offense to their reality. It always felt so unfair because I knew if I was someone else, anyone else it would be different. I found myself thinking about that a lot while I was holed up in my office. I think maybe that’s how I got the idea in the first place. Or at least the first domino… I’m getting ahead of myself,” she said, veering away from whatever she had been about to say, although Kara was fairly certain she already knew, even if she didn’t quite understand. 

“On one  of the rare nights I actually went home, I happened to turn on the news.” She shrugged. “Just something to have on in the background. I was only half-listening, at first but something caught my attention. A hostage situation in Gotham. A bank robbery went awry and they took some of the staff hostage. Negotiations with the police had broken down and with the way the reporters were pushed right up against the barricades, I think they knew instinctively that whatever the outcome, good or bad, it was going to happen soon.” She worked her mouth around as if something bitter had been forced upon her. “That was what got my full attention. Some of the reporters looked as if they were hoping things might turn out bad.” 

Anger momentarily darkened her face. “It was the same look people would sometimes give me. Hoping I’d finally show my true colors and unveil the death ray I had been building under L-Corp.” She chuckled humorlessly. “I didn’t want their bad faith rewarded so I said a little prayer to whoever might be listening; that the hostages all get out safely." She laughed again. Only this time it was the genuine article. “And then there he was, just in the nick of time, as if he had arrived to answer my prayers. Batman,” she said and there was an unmistakable hint of amusement in her voice. “A few moments later, the hostages came spilling out the doors and I couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time I had done that in weeks.”

I never know who to tag in these and when I do I feel like I'm bothering people but if you feel like sharing: @trashpandato @sazernac @theredcapeofk

#my writing #I never know what snippets work best on their own #or how to avoid some spoilers #wip #tag game

[sanakimohara]

My friend just introduced me to a new thing

Bully I.N, he’s just super mean to you, pushes you around, pulls your hair, slaps and gropes you. But then when people are around he’s super nice and the compete opposite of what he just did to you.

And he’s only mean to you, no one else. He’d just randomly slap you or when sitting down just puts his hands in your pants, and duh don’t forget the degrading.

I think it plays into people seeing him as innocent and nice when in reality he’s kinky and fucked up

Just an idea for you if you want 🧡🥰

“TEAR YOU APART” Y. J.

You and your friend are masterminds, love. 🖤 Now I want to do a series based on this idea! :) but I’ll settle with writing a snippet prequel for the time being… 🖤

[ MDNI ]

++++++

Bully Jeongin starts his campaign against you with name calling -and not the cliche creative kind that people can laugh at. No, he prefers to label you with his own perversions. Taking every chance he can get to whisper in your ear, “How’s my little bitch doing today, hm?..” “Is my slut sad already?…” “You’re such an attention whore. It’s pathetic..” “Where do you think you’re going dumb bunny…” At first you snap back insults but overtime his consistent belittling makes you less angry and increasingly compliant. You’d never admit to him that your resentment was slowly twisting into a form of pining. Your pride wouldn’t allow it…

Bully Jeongin elevates to blackmailing you when the opportunity arises. Pictures and videos of you changing, texts or risqué pictures between you and your previous crush that he’s miraculously gotten his hands on, and maybe even a voice note of you touching yourself that he coerced you into making as ‘punishment’ for even thinking about another guy. “You wouldn’t want him to find out about all these inappropriate pictures you took for me, right?” He had you cornered, faking concern as he held up his phone for you to see. You face paled as pictures of you undressing showed on the screen. How’d he even get those? Why did he have them? “J-Jeongin I never took those! N-not for you, anyway…and you know that!” You try to defend yourself but panic starts to set in as you consider what Jeongin would do to keep you under his heel. He grins, shutting his phone off before slipping it into his pocket as he leans in closer to you. His eyes bare into yours, swirling with mischief as he taunts you, “Who do you think people will believe? Me? Or some whiny little slut who can’t keep her legs closed?…” Your heart sinks as his threat echoes in your brain. “You wouldn’t…” “Oh, you know I would. Don’t act so surprised dumb bunny…”

Bully Jeongin knows you go to your classes/meetings early, follows you there when he can, and uses every minute alone with you to do his worst. No one thinks to come check on you. No one even considers the notion that you’re being groped and slapped around endlessly -up against a wall, on his lap, or bent over a desk. You try to scream or cry but Jeongin learns how to silence you rather quickly. Sinking his fingers into your mouth works best in his opinion, but he’s a fan of gagging you with your own panties too. Either way you’re left panting and nearly in tears as he takes advantage of you. He’s careful not to slap you hard enough to leave a noticeable mark, all the while cooing vulgar praises in your ear as you whine from the stinging pain that sears your cheek, and inevitably your ass gets the same treatment. “What’d I tell you about wearing anything under your skirt, little slut?” He slaps your backside again, harder than before, and you whine into his hand that’s clasped over your mouth, shivering as he snakes his free hand under your skirt to rip the lace fabric off your lower half. The cold air hitting your dripping cunt makes you groan softly and you pray he doesn’t notice the effect his torture has on you, but Jeongin knows…he’s known for a while. That’s why he has no remorse for what he does to you, feels no sympathy as he tucks your panties into his pocket, and is all smiles when he finally lets you go the moment people gradually start to fill the room.

Bully Jeongin is incredibly sweet to everyone but you. Greeting them with the kindest smile -one you’ve never experienced in earnest. His charm resonates through each interaction he has with the staff and close friends. It amazes you how cruel he can be behind closed doors but deep down you wait for those moments….secretly craving them. In those fleeting pockets of time he’s true to his darkest tendencies, fully himself, and in some sick way you begin to believe he only feels comfortable around you to be just that….his truest self. That’s the cynical logic keeping you from snapping, admitting defeat, and openly confessing your crush on him. He’d probably laugh at your stupidity if you did…

Bully Jeongin claims you’re one of his ‘sweetest’ friends when someone asks about your connection to him. He’ll flash a smile your way, placing a firm hand on your lower back to bring you close to his side, and stare down into your soul. He’s daring you to tell the truth, playing with your psyche without even trying, and he’ll win the game so easily that it makes your head spin. Everybody loves him, wants to be with him, but little do they know he’s got you to play with. Why would he pay any mind to anyone else when you were such a familiar, willing, and easy target? You don’t deny him when slips a hand into your panties under the desk/table. You stand obediently when he reaches between your thighs to cup your mound, playing with your soaked folds as you try to focus on doing your job/homework. You moan so timidly into his ear every-time he ruts his hardened cock against your ass, which unconsciously pushes back into him for more, and he’ll let you until you’re interrupted or he comes undone in his pants. The push and pull between you two is finite. He likes it that way and so it’ll stay that way.

Bully Jeongin gets paired/assigned with you for projects/comeback prep more often than you think is possible. You can’t fathom how you end up partners on almost every project/task. Even if you are assigned to work with someone else/another member he still weasels his way in. Sometimes you’re sure he threatens/bribes your current partners off to have your full attention -which is true but you don’t need to know that, now do you…Jeongin surprisingly has morals when it comes to anyone else speaking badly about you. He hates it and will put a stop to it as soon as it starts. Why? He’s the only one allowed to treat you the way he does. That’s why. “….don’t say another fucking word about Y/n. She’s mine. Understand?”

Bully Jeongin loves to make you ride his thigh when you’re supposed to be studying/working. He doesn’t care that someone might hear or see you. He cares even less that you’d rather focus without being horny. “I didn’t ask what you preferred to do…” he mumbles against your lips, one hand on your hip to control how fast you pass your bare cunt over his leg, and the other keeping his phone steady as he records the whole time. You beg him not to, blushing in embarrassment as you hear his camera shutter, “Jeongin….d-don’t..” you half whine half moan as he snaps another picture. “I’ll do what I want. You just keep riding me like a good cumslut…” “M’ not…a cumslut…” you scowl in disapproval at the pet name but the expression fades to a dazed one as his hand on your hips travels down to your ass. He grasps it tight, giving the tender flesh a harsh slap in response to your defiance, “It’s cute that you think that. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be making a mess on my thigh right now and moaning like one..” his smile doesn’t match the darkness in his tone and you swallow a whimper at the contrasting factors. The heat in your core begins to unravel with every disgusting insult his gentle voice spills. “Getting off like this is all you deserve dumb bunny.” “Feels so much better than touching yourself, doesn’t it?” “Why don’t you smile at the camera when you cum. Yeah, just like that. Show ‘em’ how bad you want my cock..” He laughs softly as his words bring tears to your eyes, little droplets trickling down your cheeks as you come undone on his thigh, and try your best to smile through the riveting sensation.

‘click’ he snaps another picture of you, making sure to play with your clit to drag out your high as he does, and your smile morphs into the perfect expression of pleasure.

“Look at you being such a pretty whore for me…” Jeongin smirks, rubbing your clit faster to draw more reactions from you, and succeeding much to your dismay.

‘click’

“Picture perfect slut…”

++++++++

This was quick and sweet but like I said…I’m considering making it into a mini series. 🖤 (I literally have like 4 currently going on rn…omg…)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I wanna lick the longest, sloppiest, sluttiest stripe up his abs/tummy. Like the urge is so real rn… 🖤 Credits to creator 🖤

#skz #stray kids #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #jeongin x y/n #jeongin hard hours #yang jeongin skz #jeongin x you #jeongin skz #jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin #in skz #yang jeongin hard thoughts #yang jeongin hard hours #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop #smut prompts #wip #fanfic writing #fanfic wip #fanfic

[kaeyas-beloved]

It’s The Way He… || #2

Characters: Alhaitham, Cyno, Dainsleif, Heizou, Itto, Kaveh, Xiao, Wanderer

Summary: Just cute/heartwarming/breath-taking things he does <3

Genre: Fluff + Snippets

CWs: gn!reader (you/your), injuries (Cyno), petnames (my love; Kaveh),

a/n: did a pt. 2 because the last one got lots of love and I though they were really cute so I wanted to do some others <3

|| Pt. 1 ||

Alhaitham

It’s the way Alhaitham props his chin on you - your head, shoulder, just whatever is easiest at that moment - as you read. His eyes, a beautiful mix of green and orange, will skim the page you're on. It's no quantum physics or retelling of historic events, but if you like it then he'll give it a chance. Just, don't be too upset when he asks you to read faster, he wants to know what happens next is all.

"Are you almost done? I've finished the page. What? What's that look for?"

Cyno

It’s the way Cyno is so serious as he dresses your wounds, a stark contrast to the genlteness of his touch. It doesn’t matter if it’s a paper cut, a rash, burn or a gash from battle, it’ll receive the same level of attention and care from the general. If he had it his way he’d get Tighnari to fix you right up, because at least Cyno knows you’re in good hands, but that can’t always happen, so he’s your next best. In a way that’s alright, at least this way he can personally see to it that you’re looked after.

“This will sting a little, sorry, but it has to be cleaned. I’ll try to lessen the pain as much as I can and finish quickly. If you’d like, I can tell you some jokes to take your mind off of it?”

Dainsleif

It’s the way Dainsleif never forgets the little details about yourself. You could mention it once and he’s already committed it to memory, he's committed you to his memory. For 500 years he's walked alone, maybe not always physically, but it still felt like there hasn't been anyone with him. You are the first connection he's had in so long, and even if he's doomed to live long past you, the image of everything that creates you, he’ll will himself to remember for as long as he can, because just the thought of you makes him feel like he's alive once more.

“You told me once that the stars brought you peace. I thought it’d be nice to look out at them tonight, for they too do the same for me. However, if I was to be truthful, you, without a shadow of a doubt, bring me the most peace.”

Heizou

It’s the way Heizou leaves a riddle on the kitchen counter for you every so often before he leaves for work or errands. There’ll be clues scattered around the house for you to find as well, each one becoming more cryptic than the last. Of course, he knows you well enough to not make them so tough you can’t figure it out. He wants you to receive your prize after all~

“Did you figure out today’s riddle?” … “Heh, that’s correct, I knew you’d get it! Now, come and claim your reward. I think you’ll really enjoy it this time~”

Itto

It’s the way Itto runs up to you the instant he sees you in the streets of Inazuma, arms ready to grab hold and lift you as high as he can or as high as you allow. He'll even do a little spin with you he's that happy to see you. It doesn't matter if you’re alone or with someone, he is a loud and proud oni who shows off the person that owns his heart!!

"There you are my partner-in-crime, my beetle battle buddy, my number one! Say, if you're not busy how about you tag along with me? I just found this awesome raman place that's pretty cool if I do say so myself. How about we check it out?"

Kaveh

It’s the way Kaveh readily helps you with your outfit and any bells and whistles that go with it. As a renowned architect there are times where he’s invited to formal events, and you are his first go to for a plus one. And where there’s formal events there’s formal attire, and the hassle of making sure everything is perfect. Be it a tie or some piece of jewelry, Kaveh and his keen eye for detail are there to help attain that perfection.

“Ah, here, let me help. Sometimes, it takes another pair of eyes to catch if something’s off. Of course, you look stunning regardless my love. There, shall we head off?”

Wanderer

It’s the way Wanderer stumbles to match your pace. For as long as he's lived he's moved at his own pace, never once slowing or playing catch-up for others. For you though, he'll stop to admire the things he's overlooked due to his immortality, he'll race to make sure you don't run too far from him that he can't raech you. No longer does he run away from those he loves, now he runs alongside them.

"What? You stopped for a flower? It's pretty? Please, I can think of many more things that are prettier than some flower, but I suppose we have some time. Who am I to stop you from doing what your little heart desires."

Xiao

It’s the way Xiao carries with him the little gifts you give. May it be a flower, a picture, a letter or another object of some kind, the yaksha will have it tucked into the safest pocket he has. To you it may have just been something you picked up or made while thinking of him, but for Xiao, it’s his good fortune charm. Something that has a tangible weight to it, his constant reminder that someone is waiting for him back home. However, he can never bring himself to tell you this, covering up the why he brings it everywhere with some barely strung together excuses or redirections.

“Of course I’d take it with me, why would I not? Huh? You think I’d have no real use for it? Tsk, you still don’t know the ways of the adepti, do you?”

Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kaerui-kaisen // @ajaxstar // @genshin-impact-writings // @stage-lucida // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @lemontum // @akiria12167 // @ari-the-wr1ter // @dontmindmebeing // @xiaos-wife // @irethepotato

. . .

Wanna be tagged in future works? Consider filling out this form! And if you want to be removed just DM or send an ask into my inbox!

#al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #dainsleif x reader #kaveh x reader #itto x reader #heizou x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #genshin x reader #xiao x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #wanderer x gender neutral reader #itto x gender neutral reader #heizou x gender neutral reader #kaveh x gender neutral reader #dainsleif x gender neutral reader #cyno x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

[starry-bi-sky]

More clone^2 snippets

Snippet 12: hands

Lancer: dear god, Mr. Fenton, what happened to your hands!?

Danny, had a run in with Damian’s katana and both of his hands have stitches: um… cooking… accident. I can’t use them that much currently

Lancer, pale: right, yes, of course. You may have one of your friends right you notes until they are properly healed

————

Snippet 13: more hands (and dash is a dick)

Dash: I bet Fenturd’s just faking his hand injury to get out of doing class work. Getting out of classwork is my thing! I’ll show him.

Danny, minding his own business:

Dash, yanks on his fingers harshly: Freak! Did you think you could copy me and het away with it?

Danny, his stitches torn from the way Dash grabbed him: you’re the last person I’d want to copy Dash, let go.

Dash: we all know you’re faking the hand injury, there’s no way you’d— you’d—

(Danny’s hands are bleeding, and starting to smear on Dash’s hands.)

Danny, (fake) calmly: you were saying, Dash?

Dash: I - uh—

Danny: thanks for opening them up, jerk.

—————

Snippet 14: Danny is Bruce’s Clone and Bruce Wayne has been hottest man alive for many consecutive years

The A-Lister Girls are at a sleepover

Star: Never have I ever had a crush on Danny Fenton

All girls (including Star): puts a finger down

A-List Girl: Paulina put your finger down

Paulina, begrudgingly putting a finger down: he shouldn’t count - he’s a loser!

A-List Girl: he’s still the cutest boy in our grade. Put your damn finger down.

—————

Snippet 15: unstoppable force vs immovable object

(In the Clone Danny Au, since Danny is not a ghost Valerie doesn’t see Phantom as the guy who ruined her life, but a very exhausted vigilante trying his best. They’re allies with conflicting ideologies on how to handle ghosts.)

Red Huntress: are you kidding me, Phantom? You dragged a kid in with you to fight ghosts? I thought you were better than that

Wraith, offended: *opening his mouth*

Phantom, tiredly putting a hand over Damian’s mouth: *in ASL + one hand* you don’t think I tried to stop him?

Red Huntress: he’s a child, Phantom, how hard could it be?

Phantom: looks down at Wraith

Wraith: looks up at Phantom with the eyes of a hundred enraged bulls

Phantom, kneeling down to Wraith and pulling his mask up to show his mouth: *whispering inaudibly*

Wraith: *takes off in the opposite direction*

Phantom, standing up to Red: *ASL* well? go get him

————

Snippet 16: identity

(Danny and Damian are sitting on a rooftop, in the middle of a break from patrol. Damian sits between Danny’s legs and Danny is slumped over Damian’s back.)

Damian, playing with Danny’s fingers:

Danny: who are you?

Damian: Damian.

Danny: who are you not?

Damian: Damian Wayne.

Danny: do you have to be?

Damian: no.

Danny: who do you have to be?

Damian: I just have to be me.

Danny: who are you?

Damian: I’m Damian.

Danny: good.

Damian:

Danny:

Damian: who are you?

Danny, smiling: Danny

—————

Snippet 17: long hair

(In the Clone Danny Au, Danny’s hair goes to his shoulders. I was in a GNC mood at the time the au was made and it passed on to Danny.)

Tucker: are you going to cut your hair, Danny? It’s getting long.

Danny, laying against the bed frame with Sam doing his hair: probably to get the dead ends cut off. I like it long.

Sam: I like it long too.

Tucker: you like it long because he lets you do whatever you want to it

Sam: it’s also a stand against the oppressive stereotype that men can’t have long hair and must always have it short in order to appear masculine! Danny’s showing individuality and sticking it to the patriarchy at the same time!

Danny: and because I let you do whatever you want to it.

Sam, making a punk hairdo for danny: yea that too

——————

Snippet 18: Danny is Bruce Wayne’s clone and Bruce——

Danny, getting stuff from his locker: my parents have a new ‘Fenton anti-ghost sticky bomb’ they’re working on and—

Student with a photography camera: Hey, Fenton!

Danny, looking over: what?

Student: *snaps a photo* thanks!

Student walks away

Danny:

Tucker:

Sam:

Danny: so… um…. Is that- is that another Wes? Should I be worried?

Sam: you should be angry! He just took your picture without your consent! That’s a violation of your bodily autonomy.

Danny: we can keep an eye on it, Sam, and if it becomes an issue then I’ll report it to a teacher.

Danny: and as I was saying, I can’t wait to have to make sure that that doesn’t hurt anyone.

Danny: i love having to stay up late sabotaging my parents’ inventions. Yay…

—————

Snippet 19: Danny is Bruce’s clone and—

Wes: ranting about how Phantom = Danny and how there’s proof and he has it and—

Random Student from his photography club: you wanna kiss him so bad it makes you look stupid.

Wes: I do nOT

Student: Its okay Wes, so does literally everyone else.

—————

Snippet 20: Lookalike

Danny: the only good thing about being Bruce Wayne’s clone is that my Brucie Wayne Impression is spot on

Damian: what??

Danny: my Brucie Wayne impression. It shouldn’t be as fun as it is doing it

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc au #dp x dc au #dpdc #dpxdc au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny fenton is a clone #danny being bruce’s clone opens up funny shenanigans that I have yet to see be used in another aus #like the fact that Bruce Wayne is Incredibly Attractive and Danny being his clone means he looks like him #and is thus ALSO very attractive to his classmates #danny having a secret club of admirers is insanely funny to me #wes weston: ranting about danny being phantom #his classmate: u have such a crush #wes: yes but NO #danny and damian have a little mantra that they repeat back at each other #to remind themselves that they are their own people #ellie gets in on it too when she’s around no worries #red huntress at wraith: child #wraith: and i took that personally fUCK YOU #damian doesnt know any asl so he currently Cant Say Shit in front of the living #he’s learning english danny will save the asl for later #this also means bby dames gets Smug bc he’s (one of) the only living person danny talks to as phantom #young children are possessive and bby dames being slightly possessive of his older brother #is very funny and very endearing to me #clone^2

[infamous-if]

Spicy Snippet #1: Orion

As a thank you for 6k, I will write a variation of romantic/suggestive stuff for the ROs. I don't usually write in those contexts because I like sticking to canon in order not to spoil it when the the time comes in-story, but I think we are overdue for some! Starting with Orion!

"This is inappropriate."

Even though the words are said through a throaty hum you can feel against your lips, you don't stop nipping at Orion's throat. He sits with one arm propped, the other on your back as you straddle him on the edge of the bed. Orion, with all of his complaints, is hilariously compliant. He moves his head to give you more space for his neck, shuddering when your biting turns to salacious swipes of your tongue.

"Should I stop?" you ask through your kisses, your words muffled. The question has Orion's arm gliding over you to hold you tighter, the answer loud and clear.

"Are you trying to give me a hickey?" he asks. His voice trails off when you lick just the right spot, making a small squeak of a whimper leave his lips. You've learned that Orion is a vocal participant, his breathy reactions only encouraging you further. "You know..." His throat bobs when he swallows. "Cameras." He can't even form a coherent sentence, which is the most satisfying part. "I will be on my best behavior."

"I doubt that—" In one swift move, Orion grabs you and rolls you over until he's hovering over you. You're breathless from both surprise and excitement. He has you pinned with his hands on either side of your face, and his cheeks are flushed.

"Can you imagine?" He says, leaning down to brush his lips against yours, featherlight. It makes your body shudder. "Us doing this in a room of executives?" He brushes his nose against yours with endless delicacy, teasing you. So close and yet not quite there. "Forced to watch?" His mouth goes to the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing your skin until you're swallowing. "Think of the scandal."

Another thing about Orion Quinn? He's a cheeky bastard.

You can hardly breathe, especially not when Orion sits up, towering over you as he begins unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes stay on you, his fingers deft and skilled, your gazes never breaking.

"You—" You swallow, propping yourself up on your elbows. "You would faint if that were to happen."

A low laugh escapes him, but his gaze turns hungry, heated at the thought. Almost as if fainting isn't what he would do at all. "You're right. HR would have me ruined."

"You are HR!" You lift your hand to put it on the last button that remains, fully intending to unbutton it for him. Orion puts his own hand over yours, directing it over the buckle of his belt. Your mouth waters. You know exactly what he wants, and he's not shy about telling you. "Knowing you," you swallow, using two fingers to remove the loop of the belt from the buckle, "you would punish yourself." "Saying that in this context is quite suggestive." He grins, taking the belt off and tossing it aside. Your fingers get to work on the button of his slacks.

"I'm being completely serious." You bite your lip, your body heating when he grabs your hand and plants a chaste, loving kiss to the inside of your palm, removing his pants with his other hand. "Get your mind out of the gutter, horndog."

"Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all.

He proceeds to bend down, nuzzling his nose into your neck until you're letting out a surprised laugh, failing to swat him away when he continues to tickle you. Eventually, he stops. And then Orion Quinn begins doing something else that has you forgetting exactly what you two were even talking about. Doesn't matter.

#drabble #short story #orion quinn #its adult time kiddies #6k drabble

[spacedace]

Here have another dc x dp Super Serious Chaos snippet I remembered about lol

As always feel free to take this as a (too long) prompt if anyone is interested 😄

---

Ghosts and Kryptonians, as it turned out, had a bit of overlap when it came to biology.

Not much, admittedly, considering that ghost biology was largely…made up, as best as any of the League’s medical staff could figure and as best as the Yetis could explain. They were usually human shaped - at least those that had been human in life were usually human shaped - but they were made entirely out of ectoplasm, a highly mutable substance that could appear incredibly unpredictable in how it behaved if you weren’t intimately familiar with how it worked. A ghost’s biology, as much as it could be called, depended entirely on the ghost, what they thought their biology should be and how they felt at any given point of time.

Still, there were some things that were more or less standard that were familiar enough. Super strength and speed, heightened senses, flight. Fangs too, though those tend to vary a great deal more in size when it came to ghosts compared to Kryptonians. Most interesting of all though - at least as far as Jon was concerned at the moment - was the fact that like Kryptonians, ghosts could purr.

And they used their purring in much the same way as Kryptonians. Self-soothing, encouraging healing, expressing happiness or - as the case might be in the here and now - bonding.

That’s what Danny had said was the point of this purring when he’d shown up and taken stock of the situation. Elle, out of her mind on some weird strain of supernatural flower thanks to some demon deciding to try and drug her into compliance and marry her - gross, Jon was glad it had been torn to shreds, he was kinda disappointed he didn’t get to help really - was reduced entirely to very basic ghostly instincts. She’d lost human speech, lost understanding of the world around her, and lost grip on who she was. Something that could have been incredibly dangerous - and had been for the dumbass demon that had orchestrated the whole scheme, Elle had eviscerated it with a viciousness that threatened to awaken something in him if he thought about it too much - though thankfully for them Elle had some semblance of recognition of who they were.

Well. Some of them, at least.

She’d very much had not seemed aware of who most of the Justice League members that responded to the situation were and had been just as intent on doing to them what she’d done to the demon. Jon and Damian were for sure going to get a lecture later on it, but them jumping in between their out of control friend and the others had been the right call. They knew how she fought better than anyone, knew how to counter her without hurting her and how to use her own overwhelming strength and power against her if need be.

Besides, they knew Elle.

They trusted her. Even as she lost semblance of her form and started looking more like…well okay Jon couldn’t really say what Elle looked like at the time. Damian called it eldritch and Jon can’t help but agree that it was the right word for it. Looking at her straight on for too long while she’d been in attack mode hurt and his brain sort of just…slid off any attempts to describe just what he was seeing when he looked at her. So eldritch seemed the right fit, even if he felt a bit bad having to describe her as such. Elle hated Lovecraft with a fiery passion, she’d despise knowing that anything associated with him was applied to her.

Jon was getting distracted. The point was, even if Elle was reduced to base ghostly instincts and acting aggressive and trying to eat Green Lantern, Jon and D knew that she’d never hurt them. And for the record they’d been right!

She’d frozen in the air as they dove in front of GL and into her line of sight, furious screeching going quiet and form settling back down into a more familiar - and comprehensible - shape and let loose a series of chirps and trills and whistling notes. And while no one could understand exactly what they meant, Jon and Damian could feel the emotions she put into the sounds. Happiness and relief and safe-safe-safe that made them realize that some of her aggression must have been from thinking that something had happened to them.

The next thing either of them had known they were wrapped up in a whole lot of Elle - body significantly more human-shaped, though still a bit indistinct when it came to her features - as she gave low rumbling purrs. She wouldn’t let anyone else near them - hissing and growling warningly in ways that made ears bleed when his dad and Bruce tried to creep closer, pulling him and D behind her protectively - but she was at least content to not attack anyone so long as no one got too close.

“It should wear off in about a week.” Danny said, butting his head like a cat against Elle’s as he checked on them. Elle recognized her father as she had Jon and Damian and had been fine letting him close, though notable did not try and pull him in on their impromptu cuddle session. “Probably less if we can get her back to her Lair in the Zone. Having outsiders near her Grave after fighting off an enemy is probably making things worse.”

Danny drifted back towards where the League was awkwardly huddled at a safe distance, giving a comforting trill when Elle’s purring stopped and she gave a nervous little chirp. She clung to Jon and Damian a little tighter from where she’d wrapped her wispy tail around them, glowing green eyes locked on the League suspiciously, but she stayed where she was. Jon purred himself, trying to match the low frequency she’d been using earlier to draw her attention back to them and keep her calm. Damian, unable to purr but undeterred by the limitation of human vocal chords, hummed softly as well. Elle gave an adorable little mrrp and pulled them even closer to her, nuzzling beneath each of their chins in turn, purr starting back up again.

“I was under the impression Phantasma wasn’t dead in the…traditional way.” Jon’s dad said, face pinching in concern. “Or that her grave would be near…” He motioned to the dark cave around them, lit only by literal hellfire in shades of red and orange. They were roughly a fifty miles from any kind of civilization, in some mountainous location in Europe. Possibly Finland? Jon hadn’t been paying much attention outside of following Elle’s distress beacon as quickly as possible without the wind speed suffocating Damian in the process.

Danny shook his head. “Oh she’s not. She’s Mirrorborn.” He waved a hand blandly, unaware or ignoring the League’s confusion at the term, “I don’t mean that kind of grave. I mean her Grave, capital ‘G’ and all. It’s like, hmm,” He paused, looking considering before offering, “I guess the closest thing might be like a pack? Like wolves, sorta. She’s in my Grave, since I’m her Reflected.” Danny motioned towards where Elle was now happily purring again, running her very sharp - and disturbingly longer than usual - clawed fingers through his and Damian’s hair. It was soothing, even with the vague notion that he should be worried about getting sliced to bits lazily popping up at the back of Jon’s mind. “But she’s old enough to go out and make a Grave of her own, and she’s claimed those two as part of it.”

“Claimed?” Bruce asked, voice lower than usual and definitely more dangerous. He hadn’t looked away from them the entire time, even when Danny showed up.

The older ghost gave a reassuring smile, “It sounds way more possessive than it is. It just means that her Core recognizes them as people she cares about a lot.” He glanced over towards them again expression going soft and fond. “The claiming is less a mark of ownership and more of like a ‘Back off’ sign for anyone who might try and fuck with them.”

Danny waved a hand in their direction again, “It’s what she’s doing now with all the cuddling. There was danger and she couldn’t find her Grave, so she panicked and lashed out. When they showed up she went into protection mode, it’s why she won’t let you near.” He glanced over to make sure the League understood, at their various nods he continued, “The cuddling is partially letting her know their safe, but it’s also making sure they’re absolutely covered with her ecto-signature so that anything that can sense it thinks twice before trying to go after them.” Danny’s grin went cheeky, “She’s basically giving them the Infinite Realm’s version of Scary Dog privileges. There’s not much in the Zone that’d be willing to fuck with the Grave of someone in our family.”

“Hn.” Bruce said, though Jon could see that some of the sharpness had left the line of his shoulders. “She doesn’t recognize us as members of her Grave?”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. She likes you guys a lot - you’d probably be dead right now if she didn’t, even with those two keeping her calm - but there’s a difference from being friends with someone and having them as part of your Grave.”

No one looked terribly reassured.

Possibly due to the implication that Elle could kill them all more than the idea that she’d try while in such an altered state. And probably Jon should be worried about that too, but it wasn’t all that much of a surprise, really. He’d seen Elle beat Damian at Go before. They were usually tied 50/50 these days. If she could do that, there really was no hope for the Justice League - even his Dad, though he probably shouldn’t say that out loud.

Oh well. Point was, Damian absolutely could destroy the entire Justice League - Kryptonians and all - probably without even lifting a finger if he really put his mind to it and Elle was just as brilliant when it came to wily plays and unbeatable strategies and overwhelming force.

Okay so he might, a little bit, be totally in love with the both of them and believe they were the single most impressive and unstoppable people in the universe. That had no baring on his estimation on their abilities to take over the world if they ever decided they wanted to. It did, admittedly, probably skew his thoughts on if they ever would try their hands at world domination, but only a little.

Anyway he was 95% certain he could convince them to knock it off before they actually launched any world domination plans.

99% if he had time to get Ma to make cinnamon rolls before he went to talk them down.

Not the point, really. The point, right now, was that Elle had made him and D part of her Grave. That she cared for them enough that not even being reduced to her most dangerous, aggressive state, almost completely unable to distinguish friend from foe, was enough to keep her from knowing who they were.

(J’onn J’onzz - scanning the emotions and surface thoughts of the three young heroes to make sure no one was in danger or distress - would like to note to the young man that that was also not the point.

He had the distinct feeling, however, that any attempt to bring that up would go entirely over the young Kryptonian’s head.)

“So!” Danny said clapping his hands together decisively as he flashed a wide grin at Jon's dad and Bruce, “Who wants to pack these two some bags while I get them all moved to Ellie’s Lair?”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #jon kent #jon el kent #jon lane kent #damian wayne #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #justice league #bruce wayne #clark kent #danny fenton #ghost king danny #j'onn j'onzz #slightly eldritch Elle Phantom #super serious chaos #Ghosts Purr #Kryptonians Purr #Damian can't purr but he's not gonna let that stop him #Justice League watching slightly eldritch Elle fuss over Jon & Damian: 👀 #Danny - trying to be reassuring: Don't worry if she wanted to violently murder you she totally would have already! 😀 #Jon: I would never say that Damian & Elle are incredibly dangerous & could bend the world to their will & I'm scared of that #Jon: Damian & Elle are incredible dangerous & could bend the world to their will & I love that SO MUCH about them #Jon: *heart eyes and dreaming sighing* #J'onn just looks at Clark and the people he's in love with (Lois & Bruce most notably): yeah this tracks #Bruce: *stares into the middle distance as he realizes that at this rate King Phantom is going to be his in-law before the month is out* #Clark: You can't fake your death to avoid it I'd come find you #Bruce: *disgruntled bat noises*

[daffi-990]

✨ Inspiration Saturday ✨

So instead of working on the WIPs I already have, my brain decided to think up a new one 😅

Current working title is LA Lonely and here is a mood board and a rough little summary:

Buck meets Eddie and they hook up. Buck feels an instant connection but doesn’t pursue it because he’s only good for one night, no one wants him for keeps. Cue him running into Eddie almost everywhere he goes, like the universe keeps putting Eddie in his path. And Eddie is kind and never makes their interactions feel awkward and the way he smiles at Buck has something warm fluttering to life inside him. Eddie eventually asks him out on a proper date and Buck is so confused because no one wants him for more than a fun time. They don’t want to keep him.

(snippet under the cut)

“Buck!”

Buck turns towards the voice calling his name to find none other than Christopher from the class field trip at the station last week walking towards him, red crutches click clacking against the floor.

“Hey Chris! What brings you here? Another school field trip?”

Chris scrunches his face up, looking at Buck like he’s grown a second head.

“It’s Saturday.”

“Right. I knew that, I was just checking to see if you did.” Buck says as he points his finger at Chris causing the boy to giggle.

Buck scoots over on the bench making room for Chris to sit down beside him.

“Are your mum or dad with you?” Buck asks as he scans the room behind them for a frantic parent.

“My mum’s dead.”

Oh. Well. Buck has no idea what to do with that.

“Uh, I’m sorry buddy, that’s uh- that’s rough.” He looks around the room again. “What about your Da-“

“Christopher!”

Buck’s head whips around to find a man striding towards them. As he draws closer, Buck's eyes widen in recognition and disbelief because shit, Buck knows him - has seen him naked, felt his body pressed against his own as the guy shoved his cock so deep inside Buck he swore he could feel it in his throat. The memory of their encounter is still fresh in Buck’s mind a week later because it was that good.

“Dad!” Chris says happily, smiling bright and big and holy fuck his hot hookup who gave him one of the best orgasms of his fucking life has a kid.

And is standing right in from on him.

Buck scrambles to his feet, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he smiles nervously at Eddie. “Uh hi.”

Eddie looks shocked to see him but it quickly melts away, his eyes softening. “Buck, hey.” His mouth quirks up in a small smile and Buck remembers exactly why he brought Eddie home last weekend. He’s so fucking pretty

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @puppyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @rewritetheending @shortsighted-owl @steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @tizniz @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @mellaithwen and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your official tag ❤️

#daffi writes #wip: la lonely #working title inspired by a song of the same name -> LA Lonely by Fly By Midnight #buddie wip #buddie #I’m trying something different and am aiming to keep this cute feel goody and hopefully short 😅 #haven’t written much for this #just what’s here and one other little bit #still tip tap typing away at Rivals and Fantasy AU and the Eddie breakdown fic

[spdrwdw]

can u write something abt miguel and the reader being childhood best friends but they grew apart and then met again years later and get together?

Of course! I have been planning on making a series based on my childhood friend headcanons

Art By Shuploc

Pairing: Miguel x F!Reader

Warnings: None, no use of y/n. Warnings will change throughout the series. Each part will have their own warnings

Summary: You and Miguel were childhood bestfriends. You two did everything together, one never without the other. That is, until you both headed off your separate ways. Now, you move back to New York and bump into him. Will your old friendship with him continue? Will you get any closure? Also, who is this Spider-Man you keep running into?

A/N: So I am finally getting around to writing my childhood Miguel fic/series! I don't have a set number of parts this will be. Nor do I have a timeline of when I'm getting each part out as I am also going to be working on requests. But, I will put up a post for when I have a new part coming out a few days prior. This is going to take place in the future when you and Miguel are older. There may be flashbacks and I will be using my headcanons as inspo. POV will change from Miguel and reader. This is the prologue, giving us a little snippet of reader and Miguel when they were teens.

Word Count: 829

☆ Prologue ☆

Masterlist, WWWY Masterlist , part 1

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"Hey, remember when we used to play pirates over at the jungle gym?" Miguel asked you as you both swung on the swings of your childhood playground.

You smiled and nodded your head, your mind drifting off to the wonderful memories of when you were both kids, playing with the other neighborhood kids. 

“Of course I do. I was only the best thing ever!” You laughed as you continued to swing. 

“The slides were our ship and the monkey bars were the only way to get to and from land. It was great, honestly,” you reminisced. 

The sun was beginning to set, and Miguel couldn’t help but to stare at you for a moment as the sunlight caught your profile. And Miguel was in complete awe. They way the sun seemed to just glisten your skin, giving you such an angelic glow that he suddenly felt unworthy of. It made his stomach turn a bit. 

He had been harboring feelings for you for quite some time, and he knew that if he didn’t confess them to you now, he knew he never would. 

“Hey..I know this is gonna sound crazy, but, I want to tell you something,” Miguel started, suddenly feeling very nervous. 

You looked over at him, a smile on your fine. “Hmm? What is it?”

God, that smile. It made his heart skip a beat every single time. He could stare at it forever. He wanted to. 

So badly. 

And yet…

“N-nevermind. It’s nothing,” he shook his head. 

You raised a brow at him. “You sure, Miggy?”

Damn, that nickname. Only those closest to him were allowed to call him that. However, hearing you saying it tugged at his heart a certain way. 

“Y-yeah. I’m sure,” he assured you, looking down at his feet as he continued to swing. The fact that the swing was able to hold him was a miracle. He had a huge growth spurt in high school that he stuck out like a sore thumb. Many thought that he was a basketball player with how tall he was. However, he was too bulky to be playing basketball, so he took on football instead. Not something he was planning on continuing on with. His passion was science. 

“It feels so surreal, doesn’t it? In a few months, we’ll be going off to college. You better text me, Miguel,” you told him, a pout in your face as you looked over at him. 

“Me oyes?” 

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Miguel chuckled, nodding his head. Of course he would keep contact with you. 

He then looked back down as he stilled himself on the swing. He really needed to tell you before it was too late. It was already too late. You two were headings off to different universities. You’d only see each other during holidays and summer break. But, it could still work out, right? 

Well, he’d have to tell you first. 

And he was already chickening out. 

You two had been through so much together. Had done so many things together. You were his best friend and he was yours. Since kindergarten, you two were inseparable. You were both each other’s first in..a lot of things. You had your first kiss with him. You were his first crush, and you both lost your virginity to each other. That..that was an experience. 

Miguel didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to let you go. But, such was life, right? Plus, you both promised to keep in touch. 

And you both were good about keeping promises. 

Or so Miguel thought. 

“Come on, Miggy. We should start heading back home. It’s getting late. And we need to be up early for tomorrow,” you told him as you let your feet touch the ground, putting your swing to a stop before getting off. 

Miguel followed suit with a nod of his head, swinging himself as high as he could before jumping off, landing on his feet with a thud. 

“You’re gonna mess up your knees,” you tsked at him, shaking your head as you began to make your way along the dirt path that led to the neighborhood sidewalk. 

“Eh, I’ll be okay,” Miguel chuckled as he waved you off.

You both walked side by side, hands teasingly brushing against each other. Fingers threatening to intertwine. You looked up at him, and he was already glancing down at you. You never spoke about your relationship. What were you two, exactly? It wasn’t just friendship anymore. But, neither of you managed to bring it up. You wondered what his thoughts were. 

Miguel walked you up the steps to your house, standing in front of you, hands stuffed in his pockets as he shuffled a bit. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told you. 

“See you tomorrow, Miguel,” you replied with a smile just before Miguel leaned into you, capturingyour lips in a kiss. 

Possibly what would be the last kiss you’d ever receive from him.

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#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x you

[gffa]

One of the most interesting things about coming back to the High Republic books is keeping in mind that the intention of these books via author commentary is to show the Jedi Order at their height (at least in Disney continuity), to write them as unquestionably compassionate and caring people, but when you actually get into the books, they're often written as coming off as detached to non-Jedi, there's actually a ton of people who dislike them, there's unresolved criticisms of them. And, in a way, it actually has delivered me pretty much the perfect silver platter I could have asked for. Here's what I mean: There's a passage in Out of the Shadows where two characters are discussing the Jedi they've been traveling with and one of them says they come off as detached, that they're not connected to the real people, that they never question themselves and think they have all the answers:

This is significant because the entire book is about Vernestra Rwoh feeling constantly unsure of herself and wondering what the right answer is. To the point that I don't even really have any snippets capped of it because I couldn't possibly choose from all the examples! And the rest of the commentary feels like it just kind of comes out of nowhere, to be honest. And this is about the High Republic Jedi. The golden, glowing, perfectly compassionate and kind Jedi these authors created to be the bestest era ever. Yet within their own pages, despite that we see this criticism doesn't really fit with who the Jedi are, this is how they come off--criticisms that are pretty much exactly the same as the ones leveled at the prequels Jedi. And then!! There's a conversation between Vernestra and Cohmac:

Christ, that could have practically been ripped right from the pages of a novel set during the prequels era! I have read novels where Obi-Wan and Bail discuss basically the same situation--the Jedi are aware that politicians are not always their friends and that they're being used, but that ultimately standing with the Republic is the best way they can see to help because people are dying at the hands of the Separatists. It's the exact same situation, that the Jedi of the High Republic are being drawn into politicians' schemes and they know that, but the purpose behind standing with the Republic--to save lives that are dying at the hands of the Nihil--is the most important thing to them, that saving lives is how they serve the Force, just as the prequels Jedi stood with the Republic despite all the flaws, because it was how they best saw a way to save lives, which was serving the Force. Of course they're conflicted about being drawn into politics and how they're being manipulated, but ultimately they believe in that they have to actually work with others in order to help others, that they see it as still the best path forward. And if critiques like this are being put into High Republic books and we're never really meant to question whether the Jedi care or are good people doing their best despite that the people of the galaxy do not always understand them, that Jedi are allowed to have flaws without that making them bad people, that being less than perfect doesn't mean they fucked up, then I could not have asked for a better silver platter to say that the prequels Jedi are in the exact same situation and are misunderstood in exactly the same way! Like, some of these High Republic Jedi are so perfectly kind and compassionate that they have literally no other personality to them, other than that they're in touch with the Force and part of the Jedi Order, and they still get hit with the same criticisms? Aha, okay, I see, it's not actually about how the Jedi could have been ~more in touch~ with common people, it's that Jedi Are Just Weird Because They're Literal Psychic Space Wizards With The Energy Of The Galaxy In Their Heads and the GFFA is not always kind to those who are a little Off. I unironically enjoy this because I'm fine with unreliable speakers and propaganda within a narrative and Star Wars has always been really clear that this is a story where half of the narration is lies lies lies and you need to see through it yourself.

#lumi.txt #star wars #jedi order #meta #novels #novels: out of the shadows

[sugawarassoulmate]

and i can be needy, way too damn needy

“oh, didn’t like what i had to say?” she must have noticed your reaction, feeding off your palpable anxiety. “both of them feel that way, you know. they only really hang out with you because your mothers are good friends. you think they would give you the time of day if they had a choice?”

atsumu too? no, that couldn’t be true. he’s always been your best friend. yeah, your moms were close and it was easy to go to their house after school while your parents were working, but atsumu’s smile always grew wide whenever you walked through the door. surely all of that had been genuine?

“that’s a lie��” you mumble, wishing for once you could find the strength to stick up for yourself. this doesn’t feel the same as when osamu teases you, that’s something you can navigate. this is uncharted territory. never has anyone else been so callous towards you. usually because one of the boys was there to step in—atsumu to offer a kind word and osamu to throw a punch or two.

but maybe that was the problem. maybe they didn’t want to waste their time saving you anymore.

this really wasn't meant to turn into anything! i've had this doc sitting on my computer for months thinking nothing was gonna come from it, but you guys really liked the snippet i shared so here it is.

if you were expecting a big confrontation between osamu's girlfriend and reader, sorry! my crybaby doesn't play that way but she does get her comeuppance 👀

also there wasn't going to be any smut in this fic but.......osamu's hot LOL

words: 3.8k

cw: fem!reader, insecurity, name-calling, fingering, jealousy, possessiveness, infidelity mention, minors dni

disclaimer: on this blog, we discuss and explore toxic relationships/situations/ just because i write about these themes does not mean i condone/support these types of relationships nor do i do them in my own personal life.

these are fictional characters in fictional scenarios and nobody should be taking real-life advice or mirror the actions of the characters in these stories!

You walked into the kitchen expecting to see Osamu with his head in the fridge as usual. Instead, you found something worse, his girlfriend leaning on the counter. A scowl on her face as soon as she locks eyes with you. It’s the first time you’ve ever been alone with her, without Osamu there to make a mean comment at your expense that makes her laugh sweetly, “Baby, you’re being so rude!” she’d say in her shrill voice.

But there’s none of that in her face at the moment. She crosses her arms, eyebrows furrowed as she gets a good look at you. “Of course, you’re here too,” she says, attempting to grumble under her breath but it’s definitely loud enough for you to hear.

You don’t really want to know what she meant, mumbling an apology in her direction before trying to shuffle past her to the stairs. She’s quicker than you, though, blocking your path and almost tripping you in the process. “What the hell are you doing here?” She gets in your face, demanding an answer. It’s only when she’s so close that you take in how pretty she actually is: full, pouty lips, a high arch in her eyebrows, sharp cheekbones, a straight nose.

She didn’t look like the kind of girl Osamu dated, but you figured that wasn’t a fair assumption for you to make. You didn’t really know what kind of girls Osamu liked. Whenever his brother brought the topic up, it usually ended with a punch to the gut.

“Atsumu and I have plans,” you said, hoping she’d leave you alone. She purses her lips, seemingly not satisfied with your response. “Could you—”

“Do you not have friends of your own? You’re always tagging along with the twins, aren’t you embarrassed?” her features twist into a smile, one of ridicule. You’re not sure how to respond, mouth clamping up as you hope for someone to come downstairs and save you. But you’re not that lucky and your silence only pisses her off even more. “Not even going to defend yourself? Samu’s right, you’re hopeless!”

Hopeless? Had Osamu said that about you? He’s said worse things to your face, sure, but never once did you think he spoke about you behind your back. Did he talk about you to her? Complain about you? Of course, you weren’t his favorite person in the world but did he actually feel that way?

You could feel your stomach churning, a bitter taste bubbling in the back of your throat. You had to get out of there, but your legs wouldn’t move. “Oh, didn’t like what I had to say?” she must have noticed your reaction, feeding off your palpable anxiety. “Both of them feel that way, you know. They only really hang out with you because your mothers are good friends. You think they would give you the time of day if they had a choice?”

Atsumu too? No, that couldn’t be true. He’s always been your best friend. Yeah, your moms were close and it was easy to go to their house after school while your parents were working, but Atsumu’s smile always grew wide whenever you walked through the door. Surely all of that had been genuine?

“That’s a lie…” you mumble, wishing for once you could find the strength to stick up for yourself. This doesn’t feel the same as when Osamu teases you, that’s something you can navigate. This is uncharted territory. Never has anyone else been so callous towards you. Usually because one of the boys was there to step in—Atsumu to offer a kind word and Osamu to throw a punch or two.

But maybe that was the problem. Maybe they didn’t want to waste their time saving you anymore.

“Please, do you think they’d say it to your face? To the crybaby that lives next door? They don’t want to hurt your feelings but someone needs to give you a reality check.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap back, feeling the tightness in your chest. Even when Osamu was giving you his worst, he never made you feel so small.

She laughs humorlessly, taking a step forward into your personal space and leaning down. It feels so humiliating. “I know enough,” she claims. “Every time I’m with my boyfriend, he never shuts up about you. What makes you so damn special? Maybe he wouldn’t bitch about you so much if you just fucked off and found friends of your own.”

You wanted to tell her it wasn’t true. That you knew more about the twins than she did, but all the energy you had left disappeared. And, in turn, her words started playing in your head over and over. Maybe it was true. Maybe your friendship with the twins had run its course—or rather your friendship with one of them did. Osamu had never been your friend before, had he?

Right on cue, the tears started running down your face. You could imagine how red and distorted your face had become, your nose becoming runny and mouth growing dry. You’re rushing out of the room before she could say anything else, running towards your house and slamming the door behind you. 

It’s only when you’re finally alone that you allow your sobs to get loud, to feel all your insecurities pouring out into the open. And it’s just so pitiful that your first reaction is to run to Atsumu and point out the person who made you feel this way. What’s most surprising is that, for once, it wasn’t his brother who was at fault. Not even Osamu could make you cry this much.

Your phone starts buzzing every few seconds and through tears, you read out the notifications on the screen.

From: ☀️tsumu☀️: did ya get here yet?

From: ☀️tsumu☀️: thought i heard the front door..

You want to reach out to him, to both of them. But you can’t even bother with a reply. Instead, you turn your phone off, and let your tears flow some more.

You’ve never avoided both of the twins before, but you couldn’t face them after that conversation. It was hard at first, having both of the boys blow up your phone for most of the day was pretty normal. The three of you were always together, whether at each other’s houses, going out, or running errands together. If that wasn’t the case, you’d be on the phone with one of them, usually Atsumu, for hours.

But for the first time, you haven’t been giving either of them your attention—you turned off notifications on your phone, started waking up an hour earlier so you wouldn’t have to walk with them, and you told your parents not to answer their calls.

“Did you get into a fight?” your mother had said. “What did Osamu do this time?” But you didn’t really have an explanation, the real story being far more embarrassing than anything else. 

At school, it was harder to steer clear of them. You didn’t share many classes but you ended up moving your seat in the few you did, ducking out of the room as soon as the bell rang to avoid having to talk to them. Thankfully, volleyball kept them busy and limited your interactions.

There was one incident in the cafeteria where you nearly broke your-self isolation.

It was easy for Atsumu to find you in a crowded room, locking eyes with you across the cafeteria. The boys were there with Suna and Ginjima talking amongst themselves and being rowdy as usual. Atsumu waved in your direction, beckoning for you to sit with them and you nearly did. Until you saw her cuddled up to Osamu’s side, a disapproving look on her face.

Osamu’s face didn’t look that pleasant either. “Maybe he wouldn’t bitch about you so much if you just fucked off and found friends of your own…”

Suddenly feeling nauseous, you turned your back on the table. Grabbing your food, you make your way towards the roof and eat there. You could usually be alone up there, without being a bother to anyone else.

“Did Osamu do something to you?” Suna asked one day when you were in the library. It was safe to study there—the boys had been banned in their first year after one too many fights. Suna sat across from you, an unreadable look on his face as he watched you take notes. “You haven’t come to practice in a week.”

You figured there was no use in avoiding him and continued to keep doing work. “Why does everyone think he did something?”

“Something had to have happened. Tweedledee and Tweedledum said you haven’t spoken to them in a while,” he leans back in his chair with his feet up on the table. Even during the worst moments with Osamu, you’d still end up getting dragged to practice somehow. “They’ve been fighting a lot more than usual. Kinda annoying, honestly…”

That didn’t do much to quell your anxiety. It was always nasty when the boys fought but the idea of sitting in the bleachers with her after what she said made you queasy. Maybe it had nothing to do with you. The twins fighting wasn’t out of the ordinary, what made you so special?

“I’m really busy with school, okay?” you motion towards the mess of papers on the table you’re working at. But Suna looks unconvinced, probably thinking back to all the times you’ve either done homework or studied while watching the team practice. “Just don’t tell them that you spoke to me, please?” 

One thing you love about Suna is that he doesn’t pry. If you’re not ready to talk about something, he’ll hold off on asking questions. “Fine,” he sighs, getting up. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ve got it figured out. But do something quick, ‘cause I don’t know how much patience Kita has left.”

You can’t explain the uneasiness in your gut while watching Suna leave the room. He was wrong, you didn’t have it figured out. There wasn’t a plan or an end goal in mind. But you couldn’t face the boys just yet. And, honestly, whatever was going on would figure itself out with or without you.

“No, no, no, no…” you groan to yourself fishing through your backpack for the tenth time, hoping your keys would somehow magically appear. There was a torrential downpour outside and your parents weren’t home or answering their phones. Like an idiot, you forgot your keys and certainly didn’t have an umbrella, your soaked uniform sticking to you, your body freezing and shivering.

The only people who had spare keys were the twins and their mother. “For emergencies,” said your own mother so long ago but they were never actually used for emergencies. All too often, the boys would barge into your home for snacks or drinks, but mostly for you. They’d pluck you from your bedroom—it didn’t matter if you were studying or sleeping, really—and drag you back to their house to watch a movie or settle an argument.

You asked your mother to tell them you weren't home or hid out in the library until it was too late for them to show up at your front door. But now, you were royally fucked and were running out of options. “Please be here…” you cried, wishing for your keys to end up in your hand.

“Are ya stupid? Yer gonna catch yer fuckin’ death out here!” It wasn’t hard to figure out who the voice belonged to. Osamu stormed to the front of your house, pissed off as he shoved you under his umbrella. “The fuck ya standin’ here for? Yer practically blue!”

You didn’t have the energy to argue or come up with some excuse to distance yourself from him. Not when your crybaby tears were threatening to come back again. “I don’t have my keys,” you sobbed, feeling cold and pathetic.

Osamu grabs you by the sleeve and hauled you next door to his house, cursing with every wet stomp of his feet. You’re pushed through the front entrance, already forming a puddle on the floor. The shoes by the door let you know their mother isn’t home either.

“Dude! Ya were right behind me, what took ya so long—” Atsumu stops dead in his tracks when he spots you, an unreadable emotion on his face but he’s quick to go into protective mode, running towards you and his brother. “What—”

“She forgot her fuckin’ keys,” Osamu grouches, sticking the umbrella in a stand near the door. He turns to you, looking as if he wants to bite your head off. “Go upstairs and take a hot shower. We’ll get ya clean clothes.”

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” her words are in your head again. The twins need to take care of you yet again because you’re too stupid to remember to carry a fucking key. “I just need my—”

“I don’t remember askin’ ya,” Osamu says, pushing you in the direction of their bathroom. “Go.” Your eyes flick to Atsumu but he’s in agreement with his twin. Embarrassed, you start heading upstairs, wishing for all of this to be over.

The boys left clean clothes for you outside the bathroom door after your shower. As expected, the shirt and pajama bottoms were much bigger, completely drowning you. Your wet clothes were thrown in the laundry room to be washed and dried. You’re too nervous to go into the living room and face them, but hiding upstairs would only make the situation worse.

You decide to just rip the band-aid. 

Wringing the rest of the water with your towel, you walk in to see the boys talking amongst themselves. They stop when you enter the room, Atsumu looking apologetic as he leaves room on the couch for you to sit. A cup of tea sits on the coffee table, likely made by Osamu and you’re certain his anger would only get worse if you refuse.

It doesn’t take very long for Osamu to start interrogating you as soon as you sit down. “Why the fuck didn’t ya come here sooner?” he stands in front of you and his brother, grey eyes shooting daggers at yours. 

“I thought I had them,” you lied, letting the cup warm your still cold hands. “I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“But why would ya think yer a bother?” This time Atsumu spoke, his hand reaching out to rub your shoulder. You appreciated the extra warmth. “Better yet, where have ya been lately? Ya stopped talkin’ to us out of nowhere.” You don’t miss the way his eyes glance over at Osamu. He probably thinks it’s his fault too.

“You think they would give you the time of day if they had a choice?” You’re so fed up at this point that her name falls from your mouth before you could stop yourself. Osamu quirks his brow, probably wondering what she has to do with any of this.

So you tell them—You mention all the nasty things she said to you, the cruel looks she’d shoot your way at school, and how you felt too stupid to tell them because a part of you really wondered if it was true. By the time you’re done, there are a few stray tears running down your face that you didn’t notice at first. A frustrated crybaby to the very end, you’re nothing if not consistent.

They’re both angry now, eyes locked with one another. “Did ya know about this?” Atsumu’s tone was accusatory.

“Of course I fuckin’ didn’t, why didn’t ya tell me?” Osamu asked, looking at you, but his brother is quick to come to your defense.

“It doesn’t matter when she told us, what matters is that it was yer girlfriend that said that shit to her.” He snaps, pulling you closer to his frame to soothe you. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Osamu, tongue poking his cheek. “What’re ya gonna do about it, Samu?”

The younger twin rolls his eyes takes a deep breath and walks out the room, choosing not to start a yelling match for once. Once you are alone, Atsumu wraps you in his arms for a hug.  “Please don’t disappear like that on us again,” he says, refusing to let go. “I won’t be so nice next time.” You can hear the dumb grin on his face. You’ve missed him, both of them. Atsumu makes sure you finish the rest of your tea before walking off to set up the futon for you—he suggested you spend the night and didn’t take no for an answer. 

You’re folding your uniform a few hours later after taking it out of the dryer. It should probably be ironed before you could wear it again but, thankfully, there’s no school tomorrow. While you’re there, you decide to fold the rest of the clean clothes there as well, knowing the boys’ mother would appreciate it.

 The sweet silence was broken with Osamu’s heavy steps coming downstairs, screaming into his phone, unaware that you’re also in the room. “I don’t wanna hear it and don’t even think about comin’ here and gettin’ yer shit,” From all the years of knowing him, you’ve never heard his voice get like that. Even when he and Atsumu were fighting and he’s certainly never yelled at you like that.

“Get one of yer stupid friends to pick it up from Atsumu or Suna or I’m throwin’ it the fuck out. I’m blockin’ yer ass after that. Fuck off.” He hangs up without another word and that’s when he catches you kneeling in front of the dryer with piles of folded clothes. His face doesn’t soften as he gets down on your level, eyes scanning your form. “That’s Tsumu’s shirt…”

Staring down at the much too big shirt, you now realize that he’s right. You hadn’t really considered which of their shirts the boys gave since you were more concerned with having warm clothes than anything else. “I just grabbed whatever was there—” Osamu’s quick movements take you by surprise. Next thing you know, he has you pinned to the floor, hovering over you. It rattles you at first, but Osamu’s always been known to push you around whenever he felt like it. “Samu—”

“Don’t keep secrets from me. Ya should’ve told me as soon as she said that shit.” His knee is between your legs and you wonder if his intentions are pure. All of your clothes were soaked from the storm and all Osamu had to do to get to your more intimate parts was wander his hands just slightly underneath your shirt. It had been a while since he did anything like that. Osamu was loyal to the girls he dated. At least you think. So many times he’s trapped you for a quick kiss when nobody else was in the room, it’s possible that you had overlapped with his relationships a few times. 

Maybe that’s why she hated you so much.

“If any of that bullshit was true,” Osamu continues, noticing the apprehension on your face. “I wouldn’t put up with yer sensitive ass.” 

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled, fingers twisting between the fabric of your shirt. You felt stupid, letting your own insecurities and her words get to your head when you know none of them to be true. With all the years you’ve known them, you should have given the boys more credit. “I missed you.”

Finally, Osamu’s face relaxes. At this point, you wonder if he was actually upset with you this whole time, or with himself since it was his ex-girlfriend who had said caused all this. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It’s overwhelming, like all his kisses and it feels wrong to be so close just moments after he broke up with her, but it doesn’t stop you from deepening it.

“Such a pretty little crybaby, don’t know why I even bother with anyone else,” his voice is thick while his hands tug at your clothes. “Take this off. I’ll give ya my shirt in a bit, just lemme see ya.”

The sensation of your breasts being exposed to the cold laundry room to Osamu’s warm mouth wrapping itself around your nipple. A sharp whine leaves your lips but you stifle it, remembering that Atsumu is still upstairs. Osamu bites down on the sensitive bud, as one of his hands reaches past the sweats you had on, groaning when he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear.

Two of Osamu’s fingers plunge into your cunt without warning. It gets harder and harder to muffle your noises, eyes welling up with tears. “Wanna hear yer pretty noises, dummy. Been hidin’ from me too fuckin’ long. I deserve ‘em,” he growls, biting down hard on your breast just to force a high-pitched cry from you.

You pray that Atsumu is in his room. The thought of anyone seeing you in such a compromising position—half-naked and humping against Osamu’s hand—would be so humiliating but it has you whining and moaning even more.

“Can feel yer pussy clenchin’ around my fingers. Gonna make ya cum on the fuckin’ floor like a slut,” You can hear how wet you are, juices flowing down Osamu’s hand and it’s becoming too much. His thumb circles your clit as his fingers speed up. You pull him in for a kiss, burying your cries into his mouth. “Cum fer me, stupid girl. Missed this pretty pussy, need ya to cum.”

By the time he adds a third finger, you’re already too far gone. With a final, exasperated sob, you cum around Osamu’s hand. He stares, mesmerized by how sensitive your cunt is when he pulls his fingers out, your essence catching the light. 

Your brain is too fuzzy to notice Osamu wiping his hand with Atsumu’s shirt, too busy trying to stop your legs from twitching. “Samu…”

“Don’t start yer whinin’, I’ll clean ya up,” he warns, grabbing a clean t-shirt to put on you. It’s one of his, of course. “Much better.”

“Don’t mind her, y/n,” Suna says after following your line of vision. The two of you were sitting at your regular lunch table a few days later when you felt someone staring daggers at you. Sure enough, there was Osamu’s ex looking back. Her usually pretty face now red and puffy. As horrible as she was, you still feel bad.

“Don’t mind who?” Atsumu asks as he and his brother join you after getting their food. Osamu feels your body tense up and is swift to see the reason why. Watching his eyes meet with hers brings back that unpleasant sinking feeling in your stomach for some reason.

But Osamu is quick to look away, an arm wrapping around his waist as he offers you some of his food. You sneak a brief glance back at her, just in time to see her storm out of the cafeteria.

It shouldn’t make you smile, but it does.

©sugawarassoulmate 2022 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #osamu smut #osamu #osamu x reader #osamu miya smut #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x reader #miya twins #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #✨ #✨osamu #bully!osamu

[yeostars]

I Hate You, I Love You.

-kang yeosang<3

○ pairing- yeosang x reader ○ genre- academic rivals to lovers! early relationship scenario, basically a snippet into the times when two rivals get into a romantic relationship after finally confessing their undying love to eo (ahem, they still hate eo too, though) ○ warnings- none? slight 18+ scenes but they don't actually do IT haha ○ synopsis- sooo this one is the epilogue for my rivals to lovers yeo fic (down bad, but at what cost?) . basically this one is a study session turned into a pillow fight turned into an intense makeout session ;) i've tried my best to write this one even better than the actual long fic so i really hope y'all enjoy reading this. likes, reblogs, comments and follows are always immensely appreciated <3

"Huh, to be honest, your room isn't half bad. Really." You admit, peering at every little thing your eyes land upon, in this giant, spacious room.

"If that was meant to be a compliment, thanks." Yeosang snorted, right behind you, watching you take everything in.

This was your very first time visiting your boyfriend's slash academic rival's room. Infact, it was your first time coming to his house itself. Saying that you were nervous was an understatement, but somehow you seemed to be relaxing in yeosang's presence by now.

The fact that no one except the both of you were present in his house right now, also relaxed you quite a lot. Yeosang's parents had gone shopping and his elder sister was hanging out with her friends. Yeosang, being the smartass he is, grabbed this perfect oppurtunity and ideal day to invite you over, to get your assignments done.

Yeah. to get those damn assignments done. nothing else, probably, right...? although you wished you were lying, as you thought about how amazing it would be, to make out with yeosang on his bed.....

It had been roughly a month since the both of you started dating now, and it seemed like neither of you wanted to rush things. But if either you or yeosang made the first move, the latter would passionately reciprocate it.

"I mean it, your room is much more spacious than i imagined it to be. And also, so clean.... bet it isn't normally this clean." You said, chuckling, as your hand gently patted and felt the soft matress bed sheets.

"Well, not gonna lie, i did clean it up cuz you were gonna come over, You should be grateful." He joked, carefully picking up your bag and placed it on one of the extra chairs around his study table.

"Should i touch your feet or something? Geez, thanks for cleaning your room, i guess." You let out, suddenly stopping in your tracks to stare at the mini posters stuck at the wall.

Yeosang noticed you staring at those posters at the wall and stood right besides you. Good thing it wasn't something embarassing- or else he would've torn all those posters than bear all the teasing from you.

"Seriously, yeo? Math symbols, geometry shapes, equations and formulas..... you know what, i am not even surprised, you math freak." You grinned, turning to look him directly in the eye.

"So what? I am working to be the best mathematician of the next century, Gotta make sure to look like one." He replied, sounding quite proud.

"Might as well wear printed t-shirts with mathematical formulas all over it, My anti-math ass could never. I might throw up if i stare at those posters again." You said, giving those posters one last glance.

"You and your dramatic ass, y/n.....well, take a seat, if you're done exploring, and lets get these assignments done." Yeosang murmured, taking hold of his own bag, as he bought it towards his huge study table.

You sat at the chair farthest to the window, where sunrays seemed to be shining beautifully at the ends of the study table. Yeosang sat right besides you, eliminating the third chair and reduced any distance present between the both of you.

You ignored your heart beating loudly in your chest, quietly placed your books and pens on the table, and peered at yeosang doing the same.

"Well then, lets get started? As we promised each other, you're gonna help me if i have any difficulty in maths and I'm gonna do the same for you in science. Hope that offer still stands." You said, not quite maintaining eye contact with him, choosing to stare at those books in front of you instead.

"Hmm, alright. Lets get this done as quickly as possible." Yeosang said, already getting started with his work.

Around 40 minutes passed, the both of you working in peaceful silence, and even if you asked each other about a certain question or concept, the atmosphere between the both of you was still, peaceful. calm. not chaotic- and that's where is started to feel slightly...wrong? This had to be the longest time you've both spent in each other's presence without teasing the hell out of each other or bickering.

You couldn't help but steal quick glances towards yeosang's direction, admiring his concentrated self, how unbelievably hot he looked even when he was literally just, studying. When he furrowed his eyebrows cuz he probably didn't understand something, or when he mindlessly spun his pen as he read content, you wondered how you even managed to have a boyfriend as attractive as him.

You stretched your arms quickly, leaning back toward the chair, stifling a yawn. You were quite tired now, but you still had one topic left. You glanced at yeosang, and he looked quite tired himself, too.

And besides, things felt too boring, between the both of you, right now. You wanted to spice things up a bit, get him to kiss you or something.... but how?

"I'm taking a quick break." You announced, getting up from your chair, heading towards the giant bed, sitting comfortably at the edge.

Yeosang spun his chair to face you, and just blankly stared at you as you scrolled through something on your phone.

"What, tired already?" He asked, having the audacity to ask you this while looking much more exhausted than you.

"You look like you're about to pass out, right now. Take a break along with me." This wasn't a request, it was an order. You wanted both of you to feel fresh and relaxed before you started working on the final topic to finish your assignments.

Yeosang didn't argue further, simply closed his books and joined you, on his bed. He mirrored your position, sitting quite distant from you, but you could still feel his feet brushing yours..

You sat there, feeling extra comfortable because of the giant, soft pillows behind you. Yeosang suddenly grabbed one of those pillows behind you and you glanced at him, quirking an eyebrow and met his gaze, which looked quite mischievous and playful...typical yeosang.

"Ever been in a pillow fight?" Yeosang asked, pulling the pillow close to his chest.

"Umm....no? I might have once, with Jia, though." You replied, registering the fact that he probably asked you out on a pillow fight. you, his girlfriend, into a pillow fight.

at such moments, you realised how yeosang was truly, yeosang. no one could ever be like him..

"Then accept this challenge. Whoever wins gets their favourite snack as a reward." Yeosang snickered, coming closer to you.

"Oh, ITS ON. Y-" You almost screamed, and you didn't even get to finish your sentence as Yeosang approached you and hit his pillow skillfully at your arm. You groaned, gaining your consciousness quickly and attacked him with another pillow, aimed right at his head.

Here you were, the both of you fighting each other in an impromptu pillow fight, laughing, giggling and screaming like little kids. Just when you thought you couldn't fall deeper for yeosang than you already were, you were proved wrong when you met his soft and playful gaze, him smiling at you, the reason for his laughter being you. You wished this moment could last forever..

Your bodies brushed again each other's quite often, but the both of you tried to ignore that fact, too caught up in adrenaline and playfully fighting each other.

With a well-aimed swing, you managed to knock the pillow out of Yeosang's hands, grinning proudly. "Gotcha!"

Before you even knew it, yeosang lunged forward and tackled you gently onto the bed. You both landed in a heap of tangled limbs and pillows, your breath hitching as you realised that you were pinned beneath him onto the bed...

For a moment, everything stilled. The air, filled with laughter and giggles and screams just a minute ago, was now intense, and all that could be heard was your breaths.

You gazed into each other's eyes, your faces mere inches apart, You could feel yeosang's warm breath forming goosebumps on your skin. Every single cell in your body seemed to be aware of your current position, you could feel yeosang's strong arms wrapped against your sides, as if you had no choice to run away,,,

Yeosang's eyes softened, his playful smirk replaced by something more tender. "Y/N...." He trailed off, not bothering to complete his sentence. Just hearing your name from his lips, him being so damn close to you, you could've sworn your heart was going to beat right out of your chest.

Your hand, which had been gripping a pillow, slowly lifted up to touch his shoulders, to touch those strong biceps... that got you thinking just how buff your boyfriend was.

He leaned down, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away, his eyes never leaving yours. But of course, you didn't. Why would you? You were waiting since ages for this to happen..

You lifted your head slightly, closing the distance between you. Your lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and electrifying, a perfect blend of softness and urgency.

Until, it was no longer soft, no longer sweet- just mere urgency, passion and roughness arising, as yeosang's palms reached forward to cup your face and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

You pulled apart just for a second, you asking him hurridely if the door was locked (as much as you loved kissing yeosang, you were not prepared for the utter embarrasment if his parents walked in.) and he just hummed in reply, wasting no time and bought your lips to his again.

The makeout session seemed to be unending, and you weren't complaining in he slightest. The next second you broke the kiss to catch some freaking air, you could feel yeosang's gaze strongly fixated on you, and you couldn't quite comprehend what he was feeling.

"God, you're so hot." He said, in such a low voice, you would have almos missed it if you weren't so damn close to him.

"What?" You asked, blushing, although you had clearly heard him. You took in the sight of his cheeks heating up so furiously that your shyness was now replaced with a proud smirk.

"Say it again. I didn't quite hear you." You said, grinning.

"H-hell no. You didn't hear anything." He said, now tearing his gaze off you, just to be met by your smirk yet again as you grabbed his chin softly to make direct eye contact.

"What, THE kang yeosang getting all giddy and shy because of me? Yeo, if you don't say that again, i WILL tease you about it for the rest of your life-"

"I hate you. Y-you're so hot." He said, and before you could say anything, he quickly sealed his lips with yours, once again. You hummed in pleasure as his thumbs lightly massaged your cheeks, and you felt so damn good in this moment, you wouldn't dare to stop.

That was, unless you had to, to catch your breaths once again.

"Have you kissed someone before, um, me?" You asked, looking quite shy now. He blinked, not believing that this was the kind of question you'd ask him in the middle of a makeout session.

"I did. What about you?" He asked, shrugging, his eyes curious for your answer to the same.

Something familiar settled into your stomach. Bitterness. Jealousy. That would explain how yeosang kissed you so damn well. He was experienced, someone had already felt those wicked, soft, irrestible lips before. And of course, they did. Have you looked at the guy? It would be impossible to believe that he hadn't dated before.

"Y/N?" He asked softly, after noticing that you didn't reply quickly.

"Uhh...well, you're my first kiss." You said, not adding anything further. Yeosang seemed way too shocked at that, smirking soon after.

"Are you being serious? You're telling me, your arch nemesis, your rival, the person you quite literally hate, ME, i'm your first kiss? Insane, if you ask m-" He didn't get to complete his sentence this time, as you bought your lips to his, again. and again. and again- until the both of you were completely satisfied- which you weren't, not just yet. You kissed in perfect sync, perfect harmony- you tilting your head slightly to give him more access, your tongues hungrily meeting each others, the unending bites and teasing making you even more desperate for each other.

You opened your eyes to be met with a pleasant, calm, flushed yeosang. His plush lips were now red and glossy and slightly bruised because of you biting them so many times (he did too, so that was only fair) and he just, looked so fucking pretty, so handsome, so ethereal. and you were just so damn lucky.

"You are my first kiss too, by the way." He confessed, now looking quite serious. You nearly choked on air.

"WHAT?? You lied to me before...?" You asked in disbelief.

"Yea, i just wanted to witness you being jealous. You are so cute, the way you were pouting when i said that, i wanted to bite you." He said, caressing your cheek softly.

"Shut up. I hate you." You let out, pouting yet again and yeosang looked at you with such endearment and adoration, one would have never thought that you used to be at each others throats.

"Nah, you love me." He chuckled, intertwining his fingers with yours. You smiled softly.

"That, maybe i do."

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez recs #ateez x y/n #ateez angst #yeosang imagines #yeosang ateez #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang #yeosang #yeosang fic #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #ateez kpop #kpop imagines #academic rivals #kpop fic #yeosang fanfic #yeosang x y/n #yeosang x you

[vivid-ink]

'The Love Shack'

Part V - The Fault Is Ours (Teaser Snippet)

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Series warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Part V Summary:

You'd prepared for Neteyam's upset, prepared for his anger, but what you hadn't prepared for or even anticipated was his complete and total disregard for you...

Read Part I, II, III and IV in my Masterlist HERE

Author's Note:

Hello, my darlings. Here is an angsty teaser snippet for Part V, as promised. This will be the final part of this series and this chapter is all about the EMOTION. Don't get me wrong, there will be spice too, but this is all about Neteyam & Neyomi's (reader) journey coming to a final head. Thank you to all of you precious people who are still following this & supporting me with all your reactions. You mean the world to me. 😘

“Thanks for everything today. Thanks for listening.” You shot your best friend an appreciative smile, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tula’s answer was a smile and a wink, but her face twisted into an unimpressed grimace when she looked to the front of the platform again, “Better work fast, babe. Silwey looks like she’s got dessert on her mind tonight.”

Sure enough, you saw Silwey whispering into Neteyam’s ear when you cast another glance over your shoulder. It was now or never. You needed to get Neteyam alone tonight and you were going to swallow your pride and tell him everything; tell him you were in love with him...

Dusting your hands off, you rose to your feet, intent for the throng of people gathered at the front. With a deep breath, you focused on your objective.

Neteyam was speaking to four women, all smiles and laughter as they conversed. You managed to place yourself in a gap between two of them, just big enough for you to slip into without needing to push anyone. It placed you directly in his line of sight, but if you thought he was going to acknowledge you, even out of courtesy, given there were others surrounding him, watching him, you were wrong.

Mild irritation flared in your gut and you continued to look at him, trying to catch his eye. However, Neteyam’s gaze studiously avoided yours while he spoke in turn to the others, even quirking a small smile at Silwey when she leant her cheek against his shoulder. Your distress was sharp behind your sternum at the sight, but you were determined.

You cleared your throat audibly, causing a lull in the conversation as the women turned to look at you. You seized the opportunity, “Excuse me. Neteyam can I have a moment? I need to speak to you.”

Finally, for the first time that day, his amber orbs clashed with your own. There was no warmth in them though, no emotion. Just pure impassiveness that sent a dreadful shudder through you.

“If it’s about work, it can wait until tomorrow morning.” Neteyam’s response was clipped.

His icy demeanour was cutting. You’d expected him to be upset, but not like this, not cold and unfeeling. “It’s not work-related, but it’s important.”

“Sorry. I’ve got plans tonight. I’ll catch you another time.” More callous brusqueness.

This was an unexpected hurdle. You hadn’t expected his refusal to speak to you. You’d prepared for his upset and for his anger, but not for his complete disregard. A painful lump was forming in your throat and you swallowed it down tightly.

Keeping a tight rein on the brewing storm of your emotions beneath the surface, you maintained your careful mask of composure and tried again, “Neteyam, please. I only need a few moments.”

“No. I’ve got other plans.” It was a clear dismissal.

You weren’t going to beg, not in front of everyone. You would swallow your pride, but not to that extent.

Silwey was frowning at you, displeasure colouring her features, and the other women appeared uncomfortable at the awkward exchange. The telltale hot flush of humiliation was beginning to tingle and burn on the skin of your face and you regarded Neteyam’s hard gaze one final time before you turned and excused yourself from the group.

The world around you turned surreal, the noise of the gathered clan becoming a dull hum as you padded on numb feet back the way you came. You could feel your composure beginning to fracture, the storm within you threatening to spill, and with the first breath that hitched painfully in your chest, you broke into a sprint in the direction of your home shelter.

You needed somewhere safe and away from prying eyes for the dam to burst…

Your eyes stung and your vision blurred with the arrival of your tears. An onslaught of sobs came next and you tore the sun lily blooms from your hair as you ran, pawing at the wetness streaming from your eyes.

Evidently what had happened last night at the shack had been the last straw for Neteyam. You cried at the unfairness of it all.

You finally had a chance to love him, but it now seemed that Neteyam was unwilling to grant it to you…

Author's Note:

😭 I promise there's light at the end of the tunnel, but first we're all gonna cry and suffer the angst, ok?? 😭 Poor Neyomi.

Tag list:

@teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair  @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt @swaggygurlbae @ntymavtr @c-h-i-l

#neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #lo'ak sully #lo'ak smut #lo'ak x reader #avatar neteyam #avatar way of water #loak sully #avatar 2 #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar twow #avatar james cameron #avatar movie #the way of water #avatar the way of water #neteyam fanfiction #lo'ak fanfiction

[elvensorceress]

wip wednesday

tagged by @hoodie-buck @exhuastedpigeon @eddiebabygirldiaz @wikiangela @disasterbuckdiaz @diazsdimples @tizniz @heartshapedvows @theotherbuckley be sure to read their lovely snippets! 💕 tagging @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @messyhairdiaz @rogerzsteven @monsterrae1 @loveyouanyway @bekkachaos @daffi-990 @wh0re-behavi0r @eddiediazisascorpio @evanbegins @confetti-cupcake if you want to share anything 💕 More Unless because I WILL finish this monster. I WILL.

Eddie leans down, but only a little because his son is already ridiculously tall, and kisses Chris’ forehead. “You know you’re my favorite, right?” 

Chris rolls his eyes but grins. “Buck can be your favorite, too. I know he is.”

“It’s different. You both are. But you are always first. He thinks so, too. You’re our son. We love you more than anything.”

The smile fades a little and then disappears as quickly as it appeared. “He’s going to stay with us, right? He’s not going to leave?” 

Why is it always Chris who can so effectively drive a knife through Eddie’s chest with the way he’s suffered and lost and been in pain? Chris never should have had to experience so much pain. “Yes, Chris. He’s going to stay with us.” 

Chris gives him that pointed, very Shannon look that twists the knife so well. He sounds fragile and so much closer to being the heartbroken six year old who missed his mom than he is to being the teenage survivor that he is. “Promise?” 

He can’t promise that. Eddie can’t even say he believes it himself all the way. Why wouldn’t he fuck up and lose the best thing that’s ever happened to them? Why wouldn’t Buck get tired or fed up and leave Eddie? 

Eddie’s not enough for him. 

“I promise Buck is never going to leave you, okay?” Eddie tells him and it has to be enough. “You’ll always have him. He’s not going to stop being your dad for any reason.” 

Chris just looks at him with unending sorrow and eyes full of tears. “What about you? You need Buck, too. I know you do. He’s also your favorite and your ‘more than anything’ and he’s both of ours and I don’t want him to leave you either. I know how sad you were, Dad. I know you were. You’re not the same without him. You need him. We both need him. I don’t want you to be sad like that ever. I don’t want to— I don’t want to lose Buck like we lost Mom. He’s my dad and you love him and I don’t want to do that again. We can’t do that again.”

Jesus Christ. Can he have a chance to not be stabbed through the heart, thanks? 

“Chris—” What the fuck does Eddie even say? “Buck will always be my friend. Even if we don’t— even if—” 

He can’t breathe. He can’t. There’s no air. 

He has to swallow and get it together. It’s fine. He’s fine. The mere thought of having to break up is not going to make him panic. The thought of Chris losing another parent cannot make him panic either. 

It’s just— it’s not great. The whole idea of losing Buck is awful and he hates it and doesn’t want to even think such a thing let alone talk about it. 

But he has to say something. He has to reassure Chris. He blinks back his own tears and he can do this. They’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay. It has to. “If dating him doesn’t work out, Buck and I will still be friends.” 

They will be. Their relationship is so much more than dating and kissing and being in love. It’s strong enough to survive anything. It would be awful and Eddie honestly doesn’t know if he’d ever stop being in love with him even if they had to face the horrible reality of a divorce. How could his heart ever stop wanting Buck? But they would find a way to be friends. 

They might not be able to have a marriage, but they have to be in each other’s lives. That is nonnegotiable. They’d figure it out. 

“And he’d still be your dad,” Eddie adds. “None of that would change.”

Chris sniffs and still frowns. But he tries to at least look like he buys it. “He wouldn’t live here with us though.”

“No, probably not. But in a few years, you won’t want to live here either. You’ll want to go to college or get some fancy job or maybe you’ll travel, but you’ll have your own life to live wherever you want and do whatever you want. You won’t be here either.” 

It was supposed to be comforting, but it only makes Chris’ tears overflow. He goes back to hugging Eddie as tightly as possible and trying to stifle the way he cries.

Eddie simply hugs him in return and wishes he could banish away all his pain and anguish. But he doesn’t know how they would make it through losing Buck either. They would. They would have to. They have each other. 

But Buck is missing pieces and filled in needs and worlds of love and support for both of them. Eddie doesn’t know how they’d keep going if all of that is ripped away. They would, but. How? 

One step forward, one more breath. That’s all you can ever do. That’s what Bobby and Athena told him before. That’s all anyone can do. 

Eddie closes his eyes tightly and has to shut it off and he just needs to comfort his son. He can do that. He just needs to protect and love his son. 

After a tiny second of quiet, there’s movement at the doorway to the kitchen. And then Buck is wrapping around them both. Until they’re holding Chris between them while also gripping each other. 

They’ve all been through so much loss, so much trauma, why wouldn’t the scariest, most horrible nightmare imaginable be the thought of losing each other and their little family? 

Buck kisses them both, Chris on the side of his head and Eddie on his cheek, and he whispers promises of infallible, irrevocable love. Because he’s nothing if not his unfailing heart. 

#buddie #buckleydiaz family feels #wip wednesday #jenwyn wip #buddie wip #911 #fic: unless you ask me to

[ohworm-writes]

「✰」 ━━ ARRANGEMENTS

PAIRING Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

RATING PG-13 - Parents strongly cautioned [ Content warnings: light cursing, brief references to sex, situationship, heavy fluff ]

SYNOPSIS My submission for @bunnyreaper's Valentine's Day event for @ivymarquis. So sorry for it being late, but I really hope that you end up enjoying it. Here's to hoping that your day is spent with the love and adoration that you deserve, Ivy.

WORD COUNT 1.1k

Simon Riley is, contrary to popular belief, not a difficult man to love. Maybe love is too strong and too heavy of a word to use only a few months into whatever situationship that's been established between the two of you, but it rings true nonetheless.

He's gone away for weeks and months a time, outwardly shows himself as a cold and calloused man, keeps his emotions under lock and key (and concrete walls, chained up, locked in a box on the ocean of the floor).

But, at the same time, that makes him all the easier to love.

Learning the little quirks about him, the things he enjoys outside of his work, the little excerpts he has from his past that make him human, the hobbies he takes part in, the simple and extravagant things that enjoys.

The way his eyes squint when he smiles genuinely, the way he cocks his head and keeps his eyes solely on you when you talk, the way he whispers curses under his breath each and every time he touches you, feels you, tastes you.

All of it. They're all simple qualities and characteristics that make him him, and they're what you love.

Although, as easy as he is to love for you, he falls short in actually expressing his own adoration. It's not to say that he doesn't at all or that he refuses to or anything of the like, but rather he isn't exactly sure what actions to do that would land him in your favor.

The two of you haven't put any label on what you are yet. Friends with benefits? Consistent hookup partners? Neither of you have ever called one other lovers, partners, boyfriend, girlfriend, or anything of the like, so saying you love him and the he loves you seems to be a stretch.

Is it, though?

You know you love him in evert facet, and he knows he feels the same about you, but bringing up those words of "what are we" get lost on both of your tongues, caught in the back of your throats with a sudden gasp, hesitation, and a shake of the head.

But with a day dedicated to love, even if he's never said he loves you (yet), Simon Riley, a man who knows comfort in the grip of gun more intimately than another human, decides his time would be best spent... here.

Within the walls of your kitchen in the early hours of the morning, fingers slotted into the holes of scissors as he makes diagonal cuts against the stems of flowers, eyebrows furrowed as he silently glares at the offending plants, frustrating himself with organizing them into a way that appeases him.

You've never told him what flowers you like, so he had to take his own guess when it came to choosing. White hydrangeas, white carnations, pinkish-red miniature roses, foliage to accent. To him, the assortment looked... nice.

He can only hope you'll share the same sentiment.

He's never been a romantic, per se. Hopeless at times, maybe, but never to the point where he himself or his actions made that word ring true in the phrase "hopeless romantic". Though, maybe that changes with your spot in his life seeming so conrete.

The waste from the flowers fall onto the counter with gentle thuds, the green snippets covering the surface along with leaves and flowers he deemed not suitable enough for the arrangement he's creating.

There's certainly a method to his madness.

Once he's completed cutting off the ends, ensuring all of the different plants are to the same height, he puts his focus on actually sorting and arranging all of the flowers and foliage together in a way that's appeasing to the eye.

He... certainly tries.

The finished product is a bit messier than he knows, with the different plants stuffed into the vase with no real rhyme or reasoning, but it's more the thought of his actions that matter rather than the actual factor of visual appeal.

(It still matters, yes, but let's not bruise the poor man's ego when he's working so hard to appease you.)

As he lumbers around the kitchen, mumbling soft words under his breath, dressed in a pair of loose plaid sleep pants and a gray tee, barefoot, feet padding against the hardwood, your own footsteps reach his ears, so much softer than his.

"Si?"

Your tired voice calls out to him, his name laced within a yawn, the sight of you, hair messed and tousled, hands gently rubbing at your eyes, gracing his vision. His eyes soften, that scowl and glare he had on moments ago lost within a moment at the sight of you.

"Mornin'."

He greets gruffly, leaning back against the countertop, fingers gently drumming against his shoulder as he crosses his arms tightly, anxiously waiting your reaction. And as you drop your hands, eyes landing on his face before quickly shifting to the bouquet, your heart stops.

Your lips part, jaw slackened slightly, breath catching in your throat.

"Is this...?"

"For you."

He finishes before you can even ask, giving a curt nod.

And oh, the wide, giddy, childish smile that spreads out across your lips is all he ever hoped for in response. Sleepy eyes crinkled in delight, bottom lip between your teeth as your grin so shamelessly, approaching the assortment tentatively, as if your footsteps alone would disrupt their chaotic beauty.

"You didn't have to."

The words pass through your lips, bordering on shyness, as if you can't even believe he'd go through the effort of doing something so simple for you.

"I didn't, but I did."

He muses, voice lightly laced with humor. You roll your eyes softly, but don't move to say anything more on the matter for the moment, eyes getting lost in the petals and leaves as you truly appreciate what he's taken the time to craft for you.

There's a long moment of comfortable silence that stretches between the two of you, disrupted only by the sound of the world beginning to wake up beyond the window of your kitchen, lights beginning to flicker on.

"It might help if you added water to the vase, though."

You hum, giggles passing your lips and floating into the air as you hear him mumble out a whispered 'fuck' under his breath, grumbling to himself as he takes the vase over to the sink.

He loves the banter, as do you.

He loves you, and you feel the same.

The words need to be said aloud, for a confirmation of feelings to be made and for this stupid situationship you have going on to turn into something concrete. You both want it. But, for now, even on a day dedicated to the word, it doesn't need to be said aloud for the feeling to be felt.

#call of duty x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

[cieloclercs]

𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 | chapter one

pairings: charles leclerc x senna!oc part: 1/? warnings: google translate portuguese, angsty word count: 5.7k

SAUDADE. in which childhood rivals turned best friends realise they were always meant to be something more

01. what’s past is past

author’s note. chapter 1 ✅ please let me know what you guys think! all your feedback is greatly appreciated <3

read it on wattpad!

next ➜ chapter 2

17 December 2020 Aston Martin Headquarters Silverstone, United Kingdom

THE SOUND OF her car engine roaring is one of the most beautiful things in the world. That is what Noêmia Senna Borges believes. The rush of adrenaline it sends coursing through her veins just to hear it purr as she presses on the accelerator is like nothing she has ever experienced – and ever will experience again. Children often cry at loud noises, but infant Noa had delighted in the roar of her father's Formula 1 car when he took her, perched on his shoulder as he walked around the paddock, to his final races before he retired. So it isn't an overstatement to say – she was born to drive.

It's a car of emerald green, not red as she had always hoped, that flies around the legendary Silverstone track on her final lap of the day. Noa likes to think that a Ferrari would feel like home beneath her hands – like an extension of herself. The Aston Martin she brings back into the garage isn't quite there yet, though, hearing her lap times replayed through the radio, it doesn't sound a long way off. Engineers and strategists bustle all around her as she steps through the garage, pulling her balaclava over her head, and letting her now unruly curls fall down around her shoulders. A few compliment her on her drive, but most stick to appreciative smiles or nods. Noa is perfectly content with that. She's been raised to accept praise when given, but never to seek it. She drives for herself, not for validation.

Her time on the track is over for the day, so Noa stays behind in the garage to watch Sebastian's test laps. She settles in her own little corner, far enough away from the hustle and bustle of his engineering team to be at peace, but equally, close enough that she can pick up on snippets of their data feedback. With her water bottle in her hand and her balaclava drawn up to her nose to ward off the cold (though she keeps having to pull it down to take sips from the straw) Noa goes almost unnoticed. That is, until her PR manager, Raffaella Di Angelo, appears to remind her of their scheduled afternoon meeting. She assures her she won't be late, and sends the Italian woman on her way again gladly, as her focus switches back to the emerald green car hurtling around the track. Raffaella shakes her head when she leaves. She's worked with a few Formula 1 drivers in her time, but they are all the same – hooked on the need for speed.

Sebastian's lap times are only marginally better than hers. This in itself seems to give her a spurt of hope, and she leaves the garage positively beaming. He tells her afterwards that she is one of the best rookies he's ever come across – Noa knows, of course, the other name that resides on Sebastian Vettel's prestigious list, but she chooses to ignore that for the moment. Nothing, not even him, can ruin this for her.

"You know, if you wanted to, we could compare our notes sometime." He says as they come to a halt in the lobby, and she turns to look him in the eye properly, "I often find it useful just to talk everything through with someone else."

"I'll definitely take you up on that offer." Noa smiles up at him, "I've – uh – got a meeting with Raffaella right now, though. And then I'm going to see a... friend in London. Could we take a rain check?"

"Yeah, no problem." Sebastian says with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Just come find me whenever you want. My door's always open."

Noa laughs, "Ok. I'll hold you to that."

He leaves her with a wave as he speeds off into the car park, where his Suzuki GT 750 is parked (because of course he drives a motorcycle to work). She watches until he is no more than a dot on the horizon, before turning back inside.

The marketing and media team's headquarters is normally bustling with activity, but today, it seems uncharacteristically quiet. Noa figures it must be because testing for the month is coming to an end – Christmas is approaching, after all, and people have families to spend time with. Though, of course, Raffaella stays. It only seems right, even if she hasn't known her for all that long, the PR manager is the most diligent, hardworking person she's ever met. There aren't many people in Formula 1 as young as her already so high up in the ranks, but Noa understands perfectly why she is the exception. Even now, when the rest of her team have headed home for the holidays, she sits in her pristine office, sorting through her perfectly arranged files as if there is nowhere else in the world she would rather be. Noa refuses to believe that's true, but she is grateful for it anyway.

"Hey." The driver says as she pushes open the door to Raffaella's office. Her PR manager looks up, "Taking the late shift today?" she teases.

"You know I'm always on the late shift." Raffaella rolls her eyes playfully, "I like it better when it's quiet – I can actually hear myself think."

Noa laughs. She takes her seat at the desk, opposite the Italian, who takes a moment to glance over the papers in front of her once more. Then she looks up, a smile gracing her face. The gold-rimmed glasses she always wears slip down her nose slightly, but she doesn't push them back up.

"So, just to recap everything from the last few meetings." She beams, "Your public image is skyrocketing, just as we predicted. Of course, your family name does have something to do with that, but it's mostly you."

I should hope so, Noa thinks, fighting off the urge to raise an eyebrow.

Contrary to popular belief, it isn't all bad being the only woman on the grid – or at least, not for her. Of course, she knows her family name has a significant part to play in that, but she genuinely believes it's not just her status as Gabriel Borges' daughter, or Ayrton Senna's niece that has earned her such worldwide recognition as she's getting now. The female audience in Formula 1 is growing massively; more than it has ever grown before, and that audience needs a role model to look towards. Many people have named her as this role model, this heiress to the throne of growth in women's motorsport.

"You're the perfect example." Raffaella had said to her the last time they met, "You've got everything: confidence, a pretty face, the right family name, and – more importantly – bucketloads of talent. There's a reason the fans are betting on you to become F1's next wonderkid. You quite literally have everything going for you."

From a media perspective it's true – Noa is gold dust. The product of two of the sport's greats; a generational talent, fighting against the stereotypes, strongarming her way to a Formula 1 seat like it's predestined that she should sit there. It's so simple really. Every big name nowadays is looking to support the minority (for the right reasons or not still remains to be seen). Fans have been concerned about the lack of female presence in motorsports for decades, and that concern is now beginning to escalate. In a society where women are re-gaining their deserved power, it would be, frankly, nothing short of a death wish to shun one of the movement's most influential and powerful figureheads.

Noa can't help but think sometimes, despite the difficulties she's faced actually getting to this point, perhaps being the only woman on the grid might even play into her hands. No one, no matter how good she is, ever truly expects her to be able to beat these men at their own game. Therefore she has absolutely nothing to lose. And if she does well – which she fully intends to do, and more – then her legacy on the sport will be just as lasting as either her father's or her uncle's. The first female World Champion; immortalised in the history books.

Make no mistake, Noa adores her family. Her idols. Gabriel and Ayrton have both played such a huge role in getting her to where she is today, and she'll forever be grateful for that. But sometimes, all she wants is to finally step out of their great, looming shadows – perhaps cast her own for a change. Make a name for herself. Noa doesn't want to be known as Gabriel Borges' daughter or Ayrton Senna's niece for the rest of her life. She wants her own piece of Formula 1 history, that will be remembered years later, just as they are.

"I can turn you into the biggest star this sport has seen in decades." Raffaella says earnestly, her dark eyes sparkling with excitement, "All you have to do is drive like I already know you can. Let me handle the rest."

Noa grins widely. This is the beginning of a new chapter in her life; she can feel it. A chapter where she finally gets to see all her dreams — which not so long ago, she had feared were unattainable — finally accomplished. The setbacks of the past year will be nothing but a distant, unpleasant memory. All she has to do now is keep looking forward.

"We've actually received a new contract proposition from a potential sponsor." Raffaella goes on, waiting just a moment to properly let her words sink in, "It's a big one."

Noa sits up straighter. A thrill of something like electricity shoots down her spine.

"Well don't keep me waiting!" she huffs when Raffaella keeps quiet for a few seconds, dragging out the suspense too much for her liking. She's never been a patient person — least of all with something like this. The Italian woman giggles.

"Dio, I can't believe I'm even saying this." she begins. Her own excitement is building up so much now that it leaves her a little short of breath, "You're gonna lose my mind when I tell you —"

"Just say it, caralho!" Noa cuts her off shrilly. Raffaella fights off the urge to burst out laughing again.

"Ok, ok!" she concedes, holding her hands up in surrender when the driver makes half a move as if to dive across the table and shake the withheld information out of her, "Chanel wants you to be the new face of No. 5!"

Noa's jaw all but drops open.

Holy shit.

"You're joking?" she laughs. It's disbelieving, and her hands fly automatically to cover her mouth, "Me? They want me?"

"Yes, you." Raffaella chuckles.

"...But why?"

Of all the people in the world who have been offered this opportunity in the past, Noa never for one second believed she would be asked to join them. Nicole Kidman. Brad Pitt. Even Marilyn Monroe herself. What put her, a promising but unproven rookie up with the likes of them?

"Why do you think?" Raffaella scoffs, as if her simply asking the question is ridiculous, "You're the daughter and niece of two of the greatest Formula 1 drivers ever. Let's not forget, you look like a model — the perfect poster girl. That's what brands like this look for: someone who everyone wants to either be or be with. Besides that, the world is crying out for more female role models like you. Chanel is just giving the people what they want. By sponsoring you, investing in you, they're also investing in one of the biggest industries in the world, with one of the richest fanbases! It's a no-brainer!"

Noa sits dumbfounded, listening to her PR manager with an expression of half-formed joy mixed with confusion, and utter shock. She opens her mouth to say something — although what, she isn't exactly sure of — but Raffaella is speaking again before the words have chance to form on her lips.

"You don't have to make a decision about it now, so don't worry." she assures her with a gentle smile, "If you want to sign the contract, you'll have to do it in London by no later than March of next year."

It takes Noa a moment to come to her senses, but as soon as the word contract is mentioned, she is brought back to reality with a jolt. Why does she even need to think about an offer like this? It's every girl's dream, is it not? To be the face of a brand that legendary. Surely she would be stupid not the drive into London right now and sign that contract on the spot.

So then why does Raffaella suddenly look so nervous?

"The reason I'm giving you time to think about this is that — well, there's a catch." the Italian woman sighs, her furrowed eyebrows softening in sympathy, "The deal has two parts: two partners, if you will. The first being you, and the second..." she trails off, wincing, "...the second being Charles Leclerc."

And just like that, every ounce of elation that had filled Noa's body at Raffaella's initial announcement dissipates into the open air. Of course it has to be him. Despite everything, he's the one person she doesn't seem to be able to forget about. It's like the universe is trying to torture her.

"Obviously Chanel is aware of your friendship." Raffaella continues hastily, deciding to take her silence as an opportunity to get a word in edgeways before the arguing starts, "Or, former friendship, that is..."

"They clearly didn't get the memo about that part." Noa grumbles under her breath.

"You wouldn't have to see him much." the PR manager reasons, "The contracts are separate for the most part, but there are a couple of overlaps, since you're representing the same brand. Photoshoots, a few interviews — nothing too invasive, though, I'll make that clear — maybe a public appearance at a gala or two later on in the season..." she trails off again. The frequent silences are beginning to make Noa's skin crawl, for the simple fact that it gives her too much time to think about the situation; to think about him.

"Like I said, you don't have to make any decisions right now—"

"It's ok." she cuts Raffaella off quickly, a weak smile appearing on her face that has the PR manager sighing with relief, "You'll have to give me a couple of weeks to, uh...weigh up my options." she looks away, biting down on her lower lip anxiously — a bad habit from her childhood, "I know what you're thinking. I'd be mad to turn it down."

Noa knows she would be. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and she's sure that if she doesn't take it, Chanel will have plenty of other people lined up who will.

"I just need to work out a couple of things with him first."

That's the sticking point. Given the way her friendship with Charles ended (and the unpleasant fallout following it) Noa doesn't even know if she's ready to see him again without punching him in the face. She doesn't have that much restraint, but especially not around him. Though once it had been one of her favourite things about him, it's now the thing that could potentially land her a lawsuit — her emotions are always dialled up to eleven whenever Charles Leclerc is around.

Raffaella pauses, a frown slowly pinching at her skin, drawing her perfectly arched eyebrows together, "Have you not spoken to him? At all?"

Noa's face falls. Almost in an instant, she begins to backtrack.

"Sorry, I know it's a sensitive subject —"

"It's ok." the driver repeats with a humourless laugh, "I haven't spoken to him since 2018. Not for lack of trying..." she trails off with a shake of her head, not wanting to dig up old graves when she should have well and truly buried them long ago, "But I'll figure something out. I promise."

Slowly, Raffaella nods. She seems to be trying to read Noa's face for a moment, her eyes squinting from behind her glasses. All she sees is that her words are truth. A small smile graces her lips — almost proud. If only she knew, Noa doesn't have any intention of figuring it out any time soon.

They move on from the topic of Charles before it can dampen the mood anymore. She's still curious about this sudden contract offer. It's so out of the blue, Noa doesn't know quite what to make of it. She half expects the day to turn out to be one of those dreams that seem so realistic at the time, that when you wake up, you miss the fantasy world like you have actually lived it. Noa waits and waits for reality to kick in — but it never does.

"Is it not a bit of a risky move?" she asks, biting down on her lower lip once again, "I mean, I haven't even made my full debut yet. What if I turn out to be a complete failure?" half-joking, she laughs. The sound is hollow.

"Oh, come on." Raffaella scoffs, "Let's be real here. You're a Senna Borges. You couldn't be a failure even if you tried."

The words are supposed to console her — they should console her. But Noa merely feels the old yet familiar sensation of doubt, like someone's bony fingers inching up her spine. She banishes it just as quickly. It's not the time to re-open that wound.

Soon enough, her hours at the factory are up. As it turns out, Raffaella is even more of a workaholic than she'd first thought, merely brushing away her offers of a lift back to her hotel when she laughed about how her old Kia Picanto is stuck in the garage for repairs, so she'll have to travel back by taxi — if she can even get one all the way out here. But no matter how much Noa insists, Raffaella's answer is always the same.

She leaves the stubborn Italian still working in her office with a disbelieving shake of her head, already making a mental note to get her to let loose a little bit when the season starts — she'll have Raffaella partying like a Brazilian before the end of the year, she swears it. Besides, there's really no better environment to do it in than at a Formula 1 after party; with the pick of the best clubs, the strongest alcohol, and the most glamorous company. Never mind Raffaella, Noa can't wait to get back to her old party lifestyle. God knows, she needs a pick-me-up after the year she's had.

The drive into London doesn't take too long; no more than an hour and a half, and her brand new Aston Martin DB11 makes light work of the journey. She types the address of the café where they arranged to meet into the car's built-in sat nav. It's low profile, out of the centre of London where the only people they're likely to bump into will most likely not even bat an eyelid at their presence. Noa is glad of that.

She climbs out of her car, locking it behind her, when the little café finally comes into view. There are a few people inside she can see, but no sign of him yet — she assumes he must be sat somewhere out of her eye-line, as he texted her not even a few minutes ago to let her know he was inside. The bell at the top of the door jingles as she pushes it open, smiling at the woman at the counter who greets her. Noa's eyes wander briefly around the room. It takes her a few moments to spot him, sat placidly in a booth in the corner of the room, but when she does, her face lights up.

As if he can sense her eyes on him, Arthur Leclerc is looking her way in the next instant. He shoots up from his seat, striding over to meet her halfway. He looks nervous, Noa notices. His mouth opens and closes as if he's searching within himself for something to say, but can't quite find the words.

In truth, Arthur is nervous. This is the first time he's seen his best friend, his sister in over two years. Sure, they've kept in touch a little, sending messages here and there for birthdays and family holidays, but it isn't the same. He misses the days that Noa and her family would be round at his house between every race, and the summer breaks they would spend lounging by the beach in Rio de Janeiro. Though they're long gone now, they live in his memory as clearly as if they happened yesterday. Arthur knows, of course, the reason why they can never happen again — thanks to his idiot of a brother — but that never stops him from wishing he could go back in time and stop everything from playing out in the way that it has. Charles often forgets, whenever Noa is brought up in conversation, that the rest of his family loved her too. He isn't the only one who lost his best friend.

Despite the overwhelming urge Arthur has to both cry and apologise profusely at the same time when he sees her walk towards him, he ends up not having to do either of those things — Noa makes the decision for him, as she jumps into his arms without hesitation. It feels so natural to rest his head on her shoulder, as she presses a tender kiss to the side of his head. It's just like how things used to be.

"I missed you, 'Thur." she whispers.

Arthur echoes the words back to her. He can't help but hold on that little bit tighter, desperate to savour this moment for as long as he can. After all, there's no guarantee that, after everything, they will be able to do this again once the season starts.

The other café-goers are beginning to stare, so they soon take their seats opposite each other in the booth. There's no time to talk further, as a waiter soon wanders over to take their orders. It comes as a surprise to Noa that Arthur's coffee order hasn't changed, even after two years — a nutella mocha with chocolate flakes sprinkled on top. Pretty much the sweetest coffee he ever could have picked. She can't help but tease him about his infamous sweet tooth, which she remembers got him into trouble frequently when they were younger. Arthur rolls his eyes fondly, before she orders a simple black coffee.

He starts off the conversation nervously again. It's been so long since they last properly talked in person, and he knows she's changed a lot in those two years. Even if he didn't know all the reasons why, he would have been able to tell anyway. Something in Noa's eyes has changed dramatically. They're duller than Arthur remembers — that bright, mischievous spark has faded. He's familiar with it, of course, because he watched the same thing happen to his own brother's eyes after their father's death; but it's so drastic in Noa. She had always been able to light up a room with her eyes and smile, almost like she was the sun. Now it's as if someone has turned down a dimmer on her glow. She's just a shadow of what she used to be, and that worries Arthur.

"I'm good, everyone's good." she says in reply to his question: How are you and your family? It feels too formal, but it's all he can think to say. Besides, the words that come out of Noa's mouth are a lie, and he knows it, "Pai's still fixing up those old cars — remember the garage he opened that one summer? Yeah that's still going strong."

But as much as Arthur wants to call her out, to ask her how she's really feeling, he can't bring himself to. So he merely lets her talk.

"We got a puppy for mãe's birthday to keep her company at home when we're away." Noa continues with a small smile, "A German Shepherd called Paco. He's adorable."

She shows him a picture on her phone, and they both spend a few minutes cooing over videos of the tiny puppy tripping over things on his still slightly wobbly legs. Noa makes some throwaway comment about taking him to meet Paco, but Arthur doesn't hold her to the words. He knows how unlikely she is to stick to them.

"Oh! Did I tell you Luiz has got a girlfriend now?" Noa says with a sudden gasp. She knew there was something she needed to tell him, but for someone reason, the memory had completely escaped her until now. Arthur's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and he slaps a hand over his mouth dramatically.

"You're joking! No way he beat me to it." the Monégasque says with a small, defeated sigh, making Noa giggle loudly. It almost takes Arthur off guard — he hasn't heard her laugh in so long.

"It's as much of a shock to me as it is to you." she muses, shaking her head in disbelief, "She's really nice, as well — his girlfriend. Her name's Eloísa. She's a painter."

Noa met her little brother Luiz's girlfriend in the summer, about a month after they first started dating. At first, she'd thought they might be moving a bit quick, considering this was their first proper relationship for the both of them, but as soon as she caught sight of Eloísa dos Santos Alves, Noa somehow knew she was perfect for her brother. And sure enough, almost six months later, they're still going strong.

Eloísa is the chalk to Luiz's cheese, in the best way possible. She's the only person Noa has ever met who can balance out his excitable, erratic nature, with her calm, soothing presence and soft voice. Equally, Luiz helps to bring her out of her shell a little, making her feel more comfortable being outspoken in front of unfamiliar people in a way she never would be otherwise. Noa has watched them communicate with no more than looks in their eyes across the dining room table. The level of trust they've managed to build in their relationship already is like nothing she's ever seen, except for in her parents. Sometimes, Noa quietly wonders to herself if she will ever experience something like that — but she never lets her mind linger on it for too long. She'll only end up upsetting herself.

“Tell him the next time we see each other he’s got to give up his secrets.” Arthur says, only half-joking, “There’s no way he’s managed to pull this girl without some level of coercion, right?”

Noa snorts in a distinctly unrefined manner at that, earning her more than a few strange looks.

“Aww, I’m sure you’ll find a girl stupid enough to put up with you at some point, ‘Thur.” she tells him in a voice of mock-sympathy, reaching forwards to pinch his cheek. He slaps her hand away.

“Or I’ll be single forever.” He retorts glumly. Noa can’t help but shake her head at his dramatics. It’s something in the Leclerc genes, she thinks.

“Well, then we can both be single forever together.” she offers brightly, a smile lighting up her face, but once again not quite reaching his eyes. Arthur tilts his head to one side curiously.

“So no boyfriend?” he asks.

Noa’s cheeks turn ever so slightly pink, “That’s a conversation for another time.” she mutters. For the moment, Arthur lets it slide. She’s right, they have more important things to talk about, and he thinks that now is as good a time as any to broach the topic he’s been trying to avoid this whole time.

Though, surprisingly, Noa beats him to it.

“There’s actually something else I need to tell you.” she sighs quietly, internally readying herself for a difficult conversation. Arthur’s ears almost prick up, sensing the newfound seriousness in her voice, and sits up straighter in his seat, “It involves Charles, so I thought you should know.”

He doesn’t miss the way Noa winces at the mere mention of his name. It’s the saddest thing of all, he thinks. Once, not so long ago, he’d watched her face radiate happiness and adoration whenever Charles was brought up in conversation. Now it’s as if just thinking about it him pains her. Though intrigued by this surprise announcement, Arthur can’t help the terror that runs up his spine as he waits with bated breath for her to keep talking. He’s reminded awfully of their last conversation, where Noa could barely even string a sentence together between her sobs of pure rage. Incidentally, that was the last time either she or Charles spoke of each other to him. It’s been radio silence ever since.

“I’ve been offered a sponsorship deal to become the new face of Chanel No.5.” Noa blurts out suddenly, all in one breath. Arthur freezes for a split second. His brain seems to lag behind as it tries to process the words that have just come out of her mouth. Now, he may not know a lot about fashion or brands, but he does know Chanel, and he does have a rough idea of the kind of celebrities who have represented them before. It takes him a moment to shake himself out of his stupor, but as soon as he does, pure joy fills his body and creeps onto his face in the form of a smile so wide it makes his cheeks ache.

“Noa! Merde, that’s incredible!” he cries. The briefest of smiles passes across her face, but it does not last nearly as long as he would have thought, and its soon replaced by anxiety. Arthur’s own grin begins to fall off his face, “Why am I sensing there’s a but in here somewhere…”

The corners of Noa’s mouth twitch up ruefully, “Charles has been offered the same contract.” She explains, “Which means that we'll have to — well, we'll be doing a lot of promotional stuff together...photoshoots and interviews, that kind of thing."

Arthur winces.

“So you see why I have a bit of a problem?” Noa laughs humourlessly, “This is…an incredible opportunity, but – I don’t know if I can do it with him there. Not yet, anyway.” She sighs wearily, running a hand through her unruly curls. Her balaclava has knotted it even more than usual, and her fingers snag more than a few tangles before they can brush through the ends, “And that’s not even considering how he’s going to react to all this.” her teeth sink into her lower lip, hard enough that she knows she’s in danger of drawing blood, “Has he said anything?” she asks, her voice filled with anxiety.

“No.” Arthur shakes his head slowly, “He doesn’t really tell us much now, to be honest. But Noa…” he trails off with a quiet sigh, pausing for just a moment to contemplate his next words, “…Surely it’s not worth giving this up just because of a feud.”

For a split second, she feels annoyance flare up in her chest. It’s a flash of white hot flame running from the base of her spine upwards, lingering over her heart. But just as soon as she feels it, she pushes the sensation down. Arthur means well, she knows that – and if she’s being honest, he’s right.

“I know, I know.” She concedes, “It still hurts, though. I don’t –“ Noa’s voice catches in the lump forming in her throat. She bites back her emotions quickly, sadness and grief quickly replaced by that all-too-familiar rage. She hates that it still affects her so much – that she still regrets every single word spoken that night. Noa wishes, more than anything on earth, that she could simply forget it ever happened; forget him. “– I don’t know if I’m ready to see him again, to be honest.”

“Not to sound harsh,” Arthur says, his eyebrows raising up towards his hairline, “But you’re gonna have to be ready pretty soon. Once the season starts, you won’t really have much of a choice in the matter.” he murmurs anxiously. Noa watches his eyes slip out of focus slightly, as he seems to be consumed in his thoughts. She nods once again, knowing he’s right. Then, he seems to come to life again, sitting bolt upright in his seat so quickly she almost jumps back in shock, “And, if you think about it, maybe this could be a good thing!” he grins so widely and brightly at the prospect, she can’t bring herself to cut him off, “Maybe this will help you both start to make amends for what happened. You could be friends again!”

Noa lets out a shaky breath. No matter how hard she tries to smile back at him, to match his seemingly boundless optimism, she simply can’t do it. It’s not as if she hasn’t tried – for the first six months of the year, she spent hours sat staring at her phone, waiting, hoping that Charles might call. Despite everything, despite all the hurtful words they both said that night, Noa always had faith that he would come through. For six months, she fully believed that she would get her best friend back. She believed he would reach out to her, because if he didn’t then, in the time she needed him most, then she figured he never would.

That’s why Noa has so little faith now. Charles never contacted her. Even when she called him, even when she texted, there was never any reply. He abandoned her. She’d been there for him when he needed her the most, but he couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone when their roles were reversed. So Arthur may be able to say the sun hasn’t set on their friendship; he may be able to hope that they could patch things up, go back to the way things used to be – but Noa isn’t stupid. She won’t get her hopes up again; she simply can’t. If Charles lets her down a second time, she doesn’t think she’ll survive it.

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[anxious-witch]

Sooo, since like, literally three people asked(like I need more enabling lmao) here is a drabble/snippet from poly!JO soulmate au from August. It isn't finished and kinda a kess so read at your own risk, definitely not up to my usual quality.

Tw for alcohol, vomiting, character's drink being spiked (if I forgot anything, please let me know)

Bojan was born with four stripes on his stomach. Yellow, red, purple and blue. It reminded him of a mini rainbow. When he was little he used to trace them. Wondering how it related to his soulmate.

His parents seemed reluctant to tell him. And Bojan didn't understand. Not until his sister pulled him aside one day before he started school and explained. Soulmate marks indicated something about his soulmate, but his was special. Bojan remembered that she specifically used the word special.

Not weird, not odd. Special.

She said that since his has more than one color, it probably means more than one soulmate. That there was nothing wrong eith that, but that he had to be careful since not everyone would understand. 

She told him it was easy enough to cover with clothes, but in case he needed to, she showed him how to hide it with makeup.

Bojan hadn't been seven for awhile now. He was twenty four and he understood much, much better why his sister was so careful about all of it. At best, people with multiple marks were looked down upon. And Bojan didn't always have the best of luck, either.

He wished he could say that the reason he wanted to convince Kris to join the band was purely because of talent. Not that Kris wasn't extremly talented because he was. Bojan was already laying groundwork to ask him to join. And then Kris tied his hair back in a ponytail, revealing his soulmark.

Four stripes. Red, pink, purple and blue. Perfectly lined up. 

Bojan had to swallow past the lump in his throat. Found one of you. 

He didn't want Kris to join the band because of that thiugh. So instead he did his best to charm him. Teasing and laughing and promising. Kris agreed, under the condition that Jan may join too.

"He is my best friend and my soulmate. I am not going anywhere without him."

How could have Bojan refused?

Kris and Jan were polar opposites that somehow managed to work in perfect harmony. Kris charmed you with his cute laugh and politeness, while Jan disarmed you with flirting and downright filthy things he could say with a straight face.

Bojan planned on telling them about his mark. He really did. It was just that everytime he tried, fear of rejection wrapped itself over his chest.

What if they didn't want him? What if it would make things weird? 

He was a coward. He knew as much. He just couldn't bring himself to tell them. 

His mark ached sometimes. Especially when he saw how gently Jan would kiss the mark on Kris's neck, or Kris wrapping his fingers around the one on Jan's wrist. 

Jan made it worse with the way he wore his so openly. Like a badge of honor. Bojan suggested him to put a bracelet or some makeup on it once, to hide it.

He remembered Jan's fury to this day.

"What, do you have something against it? Do you think I should be fucking ashamed of my soulmates?"

Bojan took a step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"No, of course not...I just think it might be wise not to show it off. People get beaten up for less. I don't want to see you hurt."

Jan looked at him for one very long moment. Bojan felt like he was being carved from inside out and examined.

"Let me worry about that. What business of yours is that, anyway?"

Bojan's mark pulsed under his shirt. He resisted the urge to rub the pain away. He shrugged.

"None."

They never spoke of it again. Years passed and Bojan got used to the yearing that came with being so close and yet so far. 

And then Jure came along. Bojan was still sad because of Matic leaving. That's the only excuse he had for not noticing Jure's mark sooner.

It came to a head during summer vacation. Jure joined them at the pool. And on his leg, just under his knee, was a mark. Four strips. Yellow, pink, red and purple.

Bojan heard Kris gasp from somewhere far away. His own mark throbbed underneath the band aid he put on. The lie he said was that he had a scar from surgery that he didn't want to show. Jan teased him for being vain, but no one ever questioned it. 

He and Martin exchanged a glance. Silently agreeing to leave and give them a moment. If Bojan's heart felt heavy or his mark burned, knowing he belonged there too, well. That was only for him to know.

Bojan was running out of excuses. Jure made a perfect new addition to Kris and Jan. While they certainly took some time to find a way to navigate a new configuration, they did work it out. Sometimes Bojan was so jealous he could taste it. 

Which usually meant he got hammered and left with the first person who wanted to take him home and fuck him. 

Other times, he just got hammered and called Luka through Skype. Luka who'd cursed him out and scolded him for being an idiot, but would still try and get him to take care of himself. Made sure he drank water and had a bucket nearby.

That was probably more than he deserved.

"So let me get this straight. Three of your soulmates recently got together. Which disproved your theory about them not wanting you because they are monogamous. Shocker, really. And instead of telling them now, you got hammer."

Bojan raised a finger in the air.

"And made out with a girl at the party in front of them."

Luka pinched his nose. He took a deep breath.

"And made out with a girl in front of them. Great! Lovely! What's the next step in your brilliant, self-destructive plan?"

Bojan shrugged. Luka sighed again.

"You are a menace. But you are also my friend. Which means I want you to be a happy menace. Please tell them."

"I'll think about it."

Luka shook his head and looked at him sadly.

"Sure you will."

---

He didn't end up telling them. In his defense, he really was preoccupied. Few days later, Martin told him he was leaving the band to concentrate on finishing college.

Bojan grieved the loss of another friend, as ridiculous as it sounded. While Kris and Jan loved Martin as well, it was different. They had each other and Jure now.

So Bojan arranged everything for Martin's last concert with them. And looked for the replacement. Which was how he found Nace. 

Bringing Jan along was his first mistake. Perhaps if he hadn't it could have been avoided. 

Nace fit into the criteria to perfectly replace Martin on stage. Jure even joked they looked similar enough that fans won't even notice the difference. Bojan would, though. He wasn't only losing a friend who he worked with since the beginning, but also his last line of defense. 

His mark ached harder than before ever since Jure joined in. 

He and Jan interviewed Nace and it was all going well. Bojan was finally starting to relax, realizing Nace would be a good fit. He was responsible, but knew how to joke still. They did need someone to keep them in check on occasion. And Nace didn't drink. His guitar skills were amazing too. All in all, perfect.

Up until he took off his leather jacket and stayed only in short sleeves. Showing off a soulmark on his right biceps.

Four stripes. Yellow, pink, red and blue. Bojan froze. 

"Nace," Jan said, sounding almost breathless, "is that your soulmark?"

Nace looked at him in confusion. Jan raised his hand to show off his wrist and Nace's eyes widened. 

"You are-"

"Yes. And I have found the other two. You are the forth."

Bojan felt like he was watching a private moment. Nace seems to be at a loss on what to say, simply looking at Jan like he was a miracle.

"So...only one remains."

A lump formed in Bojan's throat. His mark burned viciously. As if it was screaming: I am here!  Bojan got up.

"I'll leave you to settle...um. This. I think we can conclude Nace is a good fit by what was said already anyway. Have fun."

Jan's heavy gaze followed him until he took a turn in the alley, away from the view of the café. 

The next few weeks were torture. Watching them was torture. The way they all balanced each other perfectly. Jure's jokes and pranks contrasted Nace's mature, thought out responses. Kris' anxious energy was match by Jan's always relaxed state. They mixed and matched and still-

God, his mark burned. Bojan had too many moments where he had to excuse hinself and just breathe. Will the pain away. 

They were all there. Missing only one puzzle piece. All he had to do was go there and tell them. Just-

"Bojan?" Nace gently called out, startling him.

He turned from where he was leaning on the sink in the kitch to face him. Nace was always so measured in his movements, in his words. He told that that was because he used to be wild in his teenage years. He appriciated measured, gebtle approach a lot more now. 

"Sorry, I got lost in thought. Did you need something?"

"I just wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute?"

Bojan shrugged, even as his defense mechanisms rose up. Did he know? How would he have even realized? No. Impossible. 

"Sure. Shoot."

Nace's gaze traveled over his face and Bojan had the urge to squirm. All of them were attractive of course, but Nace and Jan had this odd ability to make him feel like they knew all his secrets. Bojan didn't have time to unpack why he was bith terrified and attracted to the feeling.

"I know this whole thing can't be easy for you. With all of us being bonded, you must feel left out. And I am sorry if I contributed to that by joining the band."

Bojan bit his lip. Oh. That was so thoughtful. He felt even more guilty about lying now. 

"It's not your fault. And I'm-I'm glad you guys found each other. It just gets a bit...much, sometimes."

Nace nodded.

"I can imagine. Kris told me you haven't found your own match yet, so it must be doubly hard for you."

God. He could just tell him. Bojan opened his mouth.

"Nace I-"

"Nace!" 

Jure came running, to show Nace a very specific cat video. It broke their moment and Bojan's sudden bravery disappeared.

He didn't tell him.

Which was why he ended up at the bar again. This time, without any of them around. He chatted up a guy who vaguely reminded him of Nace. Accidentally of course. 

It tricked his brain into feeling safe. So Bojan wasn't watching his drink as attentively as he should have.

He only realized his mistake when the room started to spin. Panic gripped him. If he went to the bathroom, he was going to show he was suspicious. But what could he do?

Now, Bojan will admit he wasn't someone who ever studied the soulmate bond. But even he knew about it. In theory. He tried to block in out of his mind most of the timez terrified of exposing himself.

But in his panic and confusion, he found it. He could feel faint flashes of what the other four felt. And he, idiotically, pushed all his fear and panic through the bond. 

The closest way to describe the feeling was smashing the fire alarm. 

Suddenly he could feel all of them. As if they they were reaching out to him. Jan's fierce protectiveness, Kris gentle reassurance. Jure's playfulness was there, even with his worry. And Nace was a warm, stable presence of comfort.

Bojan's phone rang. The guy he was drinking with seemed annoyed, but it gave him an excuse to step away and answer the phone. 

He managed to make it out of the club, to the fresh, cold air. 

"Hello?"

"Bojan, where are you?"

Jan's voice was sharp and urgent. It immediately brought tears to Bojan's eyes.

"At the bar near my apartment. I'm sorry I-I think the guy put something in my drink. Everything is kind of spinning and I swear I only had one drink! Jan, I'm scared."

He heard Jan swearing at the other end, and there was such an intense wave of protectivness that came through the bond that Bojan felt like it wrapped around him. 

"It's okay. We are coming to get you. I will give Kris the phone now, okay? Stay on the line."

"Okay."

He sat on the ground, to get the spinning under control. He was so tired.

"Bojan? Can you hear me?"

"Kris," he sighed contentedly. 

Kris had such a nice, soothing voice. Bojan wanted to fall asleep to him talking.

"Yes, it's me. Can you tell me how are you feeling?"

Bojan hummed, thoughtful. Woth everything they were feeling, it was hard to pinpoint how he felt.

"Tired. Kinda sick? Not like I'll throw up but like I didn't eat something right. And everything is still spinning."

Kris kept talking to him and asking him irrelevant questions just to keep him on the line. Bojan fought against drifting off, but it became harder.

"Kris," he whined, "I am so tired."

He gently shushed him.

"I know sweetheart. Just a bit longer. We'll be there in a minute."

The rest was a blur. He remembered them picking him up and driving him home, but drugs made everything hazy. Last thing he remembered was being put to bed and then everything going dark.

#my writing #poly!jo #poly!jo soulmate au #joker out #I have zero excuse for this one