#want to be friends with other girls but also feeling inadequate to be

[keepmovinjunior]

when i was a little girl i went to my cousins birthday party, which was a dress up, and every other little girl there had to get up on a stage and say what they wanted to be when they grew up. i had all of these things in my head ready to say like, astronaut, zookeeper, teacher. but then every single other little girl that went before me was saying princess. and i was like, wait, is that what i’m supposed to want to do / say?? and i got all shy and then when i finally got up there i said like 5 other random jobs and then added “and princess.” quietly on the end so i could fit in with the other girls. basically i’ve been playing meg since day one lmao

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Also. The weird girl in school feeling of both intense jealousy and violent repulsion towards "normal" girls.

[joosthead]

SMUT PROMPT 2 PLZZZ

just too soft for all of it || j.k. f!reader

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 2S) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over & 3F)  gently pushing their hair behind their ear to see their face better

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, no pronouns, reader gets referred to as his “favourite girl” one time. notfamous!reader lol also does not speak dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 4.4k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (fingering, piv), a good amount of negative self thought (i may have gone overboard—feeling inadequate as a partner, reader is very hard on themself and quite sensitive), mentions of anxiety/stress/being overwhelmed, a very fluffy and healthy joost :( aur i love him anyways, pls heed the prompt cuz that in itself is a content warning teehee, 🧀🧀🧀alert i can’t lie!!, a variety of dutch terms of endearment i'm not sure i’m using right but it’s for the sake of no y/n

₊˚⊹⋆ track of the fic: "sweet nothing" by taylor swift

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i resonate heavy with this 🙃🙃 had the worst last few weeks of this uni year but i’m FREE!!!! thanks for requesting this, i combined this with a few other asks stated above! happy first juno joost fic to meee yippeee

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. please do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

To say the utter least—it had been a hard few weeks for you. 

The whims of life carried you away like a tsunami to your normal routine—work and classes and friends and family and life, life that you couldn’t ignore or get away from like you wanted to do, nothing to do except doing it. And you’d been doing it, just fine for the most part, but one thing led to another, and the last week was a whirlwind of commitments, obligations, your procrastinating on all of them, somehow. You got yourself into a mess of your own making. 

It certainly didn’t help that your boyfriend, Joost, was away for his own life: a festival performance in Canada, one in Belgium, one in the Netherlands but not one you could attend easily with all of the work you had for yourself. After that, he worked on the new album in Germany, putting the final touches on his 9th project, filming new content and preparing for his upcoming tour. 

He left around the beginning of when your life started getting busier. If you added it up—23 days you hadn’t seen him in person, but it’s not like you were counting (you were counting, and sad the entire time about his absence.). It felt like the same amount of time you hadn’t even seen or talked to him, through the phone, on Facetime, even texting each other.

Voice memos in the bathroom at work, always apologizing for how rushed you had to be; leaving him on delivered for hours as you studied, or had an event you needed to be at, or had a person you needed to talk to, someone else who needed your time more than Joost needed yours, and it was too much. All of it was too much. Too much for you to handle easily, every second taken by someone else. 

You felt like a terrible partner, not being able to speak to him as much as you wanted. Seeing all of his messages, the reassurance that he understands how busy you are and that in the end, you'll always make time for each other…his ability to be such a good partner held up next to your perceived inadequacy made you even more stressed. 

In the end, it’ll all work out—today, Joost flew back home, though you still had a number of commitments and assignments to get to and couldn’t pick him up from the airport. Your mutual friend picked him up, and you bit your nails at every update given; willing the time to go slower so you could tidy up more, work on that one last piece of paperwork so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, make sure everything is perfect so Joost can have a good welcome back.

In the nick of time, you were able to get everything done, but it still felt as if there was something missing, like you'd be hit with a missed deadline in the midst of your time back together, and it would all come crumbling down. 

As you opened the door, right as your friend pulled up to your street, you tried to put it aside, and you did—for now. Late afternoon and you stand at the top of your townhouse steps, watching in nervous excitement as Joost unloads his luggage from the trunk. Your friend closes the trunk and waves at you.

You wave back, but your eyes are on Joost as he gathers the two suitcases and starts rolling them to you in a sort of disorganized frenzy, just as excited as you are; you would come forward and help, but it’s cute to watch him, clumsy and stumbling over his long pants and tote bag and everything—your Joost, finally back with you. 

He wears a heavy black jacket, sunglasses, a black cap that he takes off and shakes his hair out of; the sun shines off him, and you can't help but smile at the sight. His hair grew out a little, the darker blonde roots growing in. Those jeans are ones you’ve never seen before, new glasses, new clunky boots that look greatly uncomfortable but perfectly his style. Evidence of the time passed, and for some strange reason, it brings a pang to your chest that you try to ignore as you come down the steps of your house. 

“Come here, come here, come here, baby, I missed you,” Joost exclaims, arms open and leaving his bags behind him to come meet you halfway, laughing. 

You say as you hug him around his neck, his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick—” 

“Don’t worry about it, I know you were busy.” 

You nod as he moves his arms around your neck and you go around his waist, Joost pecking your cheek several times and making you laugh. “I still feel bad I couldn’t pick you up.”

“Never feel bad, you’d still be the best even if you left me on the side of the road.” You give him and his compliment a weak smile as you pull away. 

—

The first time you get a moment to yourself in a month: Joost’s head lays in your lap as you both watch some cartoon on the couch together after eating. 

You cleaned most of yesterday and some of today; you cooked most of last night since you knew you had more time, preparing Joost’s favorite meal—it was the best you could reasonably do, considering all of the other obligations you had in these last two days. 

As he ate, you pushed around your own food; would’ve made it fresh, could've had a nice table setting for dinner, should’ve prepared more for all of this. You still gave him a sheepish smile as you watched him happily eat the microwaved meal you warmed up for him, no indication at all that he’s disappointed or unhappy like you are with yourself. You shouldn’t feel like this, but you do. It’s getting increasingly difficult to shake. 

The colors and lines dance across the TV, spouting raunchy jokes that you can half understand with the few years of Dutch you have under your belt; the air conditioner is on, and you can finally rest. Joost is changed out of his airport outfit and into some shorts and a shirt. He’s home, and you did the best you could do, and now he’s in your arms again. 

You don’t even mean to, but you sigh, perhaps louder than usual, because Joost looks up at you from your lap, brushes a lock of your hair out of your eyes, says, “You’re the best, you know?” 

It catches you off guard enough that you shake your head almost instinctively, not fast enough to hide…whatever feeling this is you’re feeling. “I don’t feel like it, Joosty.” 

“You don’t?” He gets up from your lap, sitting next to you, and brings his face close to yours. “You should, because you are.” 

Your noses are brushing, and even in the midst of your racing thoughts, you can't help but smile at him. His face grows into a smile, and you come forward and kiss him, deeply; you know it takes him by surprise, how he takes a little to kiss back, like trying to learn each other again. Nonetheless, he kisses back, holding your face in his hands, grinning into it—he's so pleased, so content, you know it by how sweetly he holds you. 

The TV becomes background noise to you, the air conditioner no use with how hot you feel when you move to sit atop him in his lap, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your ass as you grind down on him, licking into his mouth. 

“You're so tense,” Joost says when you pull away, thumbs rubbing into your back where there are sure to be knots in your muscles. 

You roll your eyes. “Can you blame me?” you snicker and he smiles. 

“I’ll relieve some tension for you, then.” 

Nothing but a few layers of clothes separate you—he smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good that you pull away, run your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his warm body, his stomach. You move to take it off of him, and he’s a step ahead of you, taking it off himself and attaching his lips to yours again, like a magnet. 

“You’re not wasting any time,” he says as you rest your hands on his chest and kiss down his stubble covered jaw to his neck, on top of Lola Bunny and back up again. 

“I need you, Joost,” you breathe in between kisses, and he pulls back and groans which makes you giggle, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You can't just say that, oh my god,” Joost whines, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “That’s so hot,” he laughs, and it makes you laugh too, how ridiculous he is. “Fuck, I love you.” He comes back in for one more kiss before he shifts so you can lay down on the couch, and he's on top of you, kissing again. He helps you shimmy down your shorts, your underwear, and in no time—his hand is between your legs.

“I would have taken it slow but—I’m too excited,” he breathes. You palm his hard cock through his shorts, coaxing a sigh out of him. Joost hovers above, leaning on one elbow and using the other hand to run his fingers through your slit, wetting them with how aroused you are. Involuntarily, your legs twitch, your breath catches in your mouth, and Joost gives you a soft laugh. “You’re so sensitive, schat.” Fingers still touching you so gently, he noses at your cheek—you’re a hairpin trigger, how reactive you are to him. “Has it been that long?” 

Breathless, you nod as he presses his thumb to your clit, petting at it. “Too long, I was waiting for you.”

“I could say the same for you.” 

You sit up, pushing up against him, still kissing like you can’t bear to be separated from him, but he pulls back from you—brings two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his spit, and the sight brings your heart to your stomach with how arousing it is. 

Sure, Joost sends videos; yes, you have…homemade…videos of your own between the two of you; his deep voice through the speaker in your late night Facetimes, talking you through it or his incessant compliments when you send him some pictures of your own. 

Nothing compares to the real thing—the smell of his cologne on his collar even after he’s taken a shower; his blonde hair in your eyes as he kisses you; holding onto his strong arms as he fingers you, the wet sound music to your ears though normally, it would make you sheepish at how filthy this all is.  

Sometimes it makes you laugh that the random guy you met with a Crazy Frog tattoo on his forearm is now your boyfriend, but it feels so serious now more than ever. You realize now how much you’ve missed him, and how much you’ve pushed down that feeling in favor of everything else. 

Joost crooks his fingers inside of you and you moan into his mouth, which he smiles at. “You like it?” he asks, both of you knowing the answer. He knows you so well, inside and out. Knows that spot inside of you that renders you unable to speak, how to hit it just right like it’s muscle memory to fuck you with his fingers. He rubs your clit at the same time, using his spit and your wetness to do so, and God—you wish never leaving this spot was an option. 

Your climax fast approaches you; Joost kissing at the side of your lips, your chin because you’re too lost in your pleasure to kiss back. With a few more pumps of his fingers, he brings you there, a choked moan tumbling from your mouth as you cum, almost falling into him as he takes you through the last waves of your orgasm. “Thank you,” you breathe, pressing a deep kiss to his lips again now that you have the ability to. 

“Thanking me? Nothing to thank me for,” he says, but you shake your head.

“I disagree,” you say quietly, palming over his erection once more now that you’ve gathered yourself. “I have everything to thank you for,” you think, but can’t say out loud. You move so you can be on your knees on the ground in between his legs. It’s been quite a bit, enough so that the program on the TV is completely different now, the AC has turned off—he’s still so hard, still hasn’t been taken care of.

You're about to lower his shorts, take him into your mouth, but Joost takes your hand and says, “Can we skip it? I wanna be inside of you, lieverd.” 

Almost a whisper, you reply, “Whatever you want,” nodding, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re so quiet today. Is anything wrong?” He can read you like a book, the furrowing of your brow at his suggestion an easy giveaway. 

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lie, but he still looks disbelieving. “I just wanted to give you something back.”

“This is something back and more, baby. Lie down.” 

You do, too tired to argue for your side—the side that wants to give Joost everything you have and more, pay him back for the time you’ve been so absent, so distracted from your relationship and all the things Joost had been doing in the time away. It’s not as if you don’t want to lie down and have him fuck you—it’s just that you feel that you haven’t earned it yet. 

Your body language gives you away—“Still so tense, lieverd,” he says, squeezing your shoulder as you adjust, legs on either side of his thighs. “You sure you want to do this?” 

“Of course I do,” you purr, because of course you do, reaching into his briefs—Joost Klein branded, of course—and pulling his cock out, jerking it a few times and making him groan with the sensation. “You're so sensitive,” you quote him from earlier. “Has it been that long, schat?” 

The pet name makes his cock twitch; a month away, hard work on his album and music videos, content and marketing, coming back home to his favourite girl gazing at him starry-eyed with a hand around his dick and ready to take him inside. If you peered into his mind, this is what he’d be thinking. No thoughts match your worried thinking about how you may or may not have let him down—you didn’t. That would be impossible, at least to him. 

“Much too long.” 

You rest your head on a throw pillow that Joost has laid for you, and he lines himself up with your entrance. Fingertips on his stomach, you stop him for a few seconds from coming forward, and you wrap your hand around his shaft, swiping it through your slit a few times, collecting your wetness and his pre-cum on the head of his cock.

Loudly, he swears in Dutch, and the latter half sounds more like a strangled whisper than any real word. “You…fuck, my god…you are evil,” he laughs, even though he’s now rubbing the head of it against your clit, making you mewl. 

“You ready for me?” he asks, and you nod, licking your lips, trying to control your breathing. Your initial apprehension is long gone, though it could creep back every second—who cares? You’re finally together again. “You’re so wet,” Joost breathes as he eases the head of his cock into you. The stretch is something to get used to after so long away, but he gives time for you to adjust—seems like he might need it more than you do, how he sucks a breath in through gritted teeth, the snail’s pace he's going at. “I might cum right now.” 

“You promise?” you tease, watching the slow slide of his cock inside of you, watching just like he is. 

“I might have to promise with how this is going.” 

“You can do it,” you giggle and then moan because he's managed to fit half of his length into you. “I believe in you.” 

“Yay,” Joost smiles as he bottoms out in you, then gives you a kiss. “We did it!”

He holds his hand up for a high-five and you laugh—”I’m not high-fiving you while you're inside me.” 

“When has that ever stopped you before?”  

Rolling your eyes, you give him the high-five he so desperately wants and he beams at you with a toothy grin. “Never, I guess.” 

“Never,” Joost repeats, and then straightens up. You look up at him through your eyelashes—his mullet is mussed from the tangles of your fingers through his hair, his chest moving steadily up and down with the exertion of this all.  He moves your legs so your left ankle rests on his shoulder, the right wrapped around his hips. 

His hand creeps up your shirt, and you do the rest, exposing your tits to him. Joost is normally so clumsy, so heavy-handed—what a contrast that he can be so calm dragging his fingertips around your nipple, making it pebble in the cold.

He cups your cheek after you moan, then runs his tattooed knuckles down it, slips his thumb between your lips and hooks it on your teeth momentarily—you chase  it, but he continues down your chest and to your belly until his thumb is finally back on your clit and circling it slowly. 

The drag of his cock out of you is wonderful, so wonderful it makes you shudder when he does it, combined with his terribly slow treatment of your clit.

“My baby, did you miss me?” Joost says softly, kissing at your calf, your ankle as he sinks back into you. The sensation robs you of a response, a sigh tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it, but he takes it as a response enough.  The smile on his face—the beauty mark under his lip, those deep dimples so prominent—you could never tire of it. “I missed you more, schatje.”

It feels so good, it feels like heaven being with him again. He comes back from such a busy time in his life, where you’ve done little, and all he has is praise and warmth and affection for you—fingers you within an inch of your life and doesn’t even ask for anything in return, just takes care of you in the way you need most. 

You know that he benefits from this just as much as you do—this isn’t so one-sided. But your brain is so frazzled from this last month, the nerve endings fried and in want of a fuck up to cling to like they have been whenever you’ve made a mistake at work, in class, in your relationship. 

Joost interrupts your thoughts: “I was so happy to see you on the steps, I could’ve sprinted to you if I wasn’t wearing those damn shoes.”

All of the times that you forgot to reply to Joost, getting a text saying your name and a sad face right after; the times where you were too distracted to give him your full attention and could only hum your acknowledgement to him, having to be reminded about what he said later; that one time just a few days ago you fell asleep on call with him in the middle of him excitedly speaking about a breakthrough with a bridge on the most important song of the album. 

The pleasure you felt earlier is now overshadowed by your racing thoughts. 

“I wrote a song about you, you know?” Joost says, his voice so gentle. I was only going to let you know when the album came out, but I can’t keep a secret.” Rocking against you, his pelvis rubs against your clit and it makes you cling to his shoulders. “The voice memo I sent you earlier—it was my first draft, just me. Did you like it?” 

“You…you wrote a song about me?” 

Only now do you remember the voice memo Joost sent you in the morning when you were still cleaning, the one that you saw and made a fleeting mental note to reply to later on, which you promptly forgot as you vacuumed, dusted, folded. 

Such misplaced priorities, and now you're paying the sad price.

“Joost,” you say, eyebrows screwing up, that all too familiar pulling feeling behind your nose and eyes—you realize quickly that all of the emotions bottled up inside of you from the past month have come out with vengeance at the new knowledge of Joost’s song about you. The knowledge wouldn’t have been new if you just paid more attention. 

You try to hold it back, pushing down the feelings again, but it just won’t work. All of it spilling over at the worst possible time, tears streaming down your face before you even know it. You fail to wipe the wetness from your cheeks—Joost stops his movements, asks in a panicked and concerned voice, “Oh my—are you crying, schat?”

Attempting to pull it together once more, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head silently, but your already sniffly nose sells you out. Your shoulders shake with your crying. Too far gone now. 

“I wanted—“ you sniffle, and he hands you a tissue from the side table for you to blow your nose into as he stumbles out and off of you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, but I just—so much—I never—I never listened to your memo, I couldn’t, I had to finish so much before you got here and I couldn’t and I feel so bad, like, you wrote a song about me and I didn’t even have the time to listen—” 

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Joost coos, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you sob. “Baby, please.” His expression is so concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he pats your back. “Wait, shit,” he says, getting up from the couch and looking down at his still bare bottom half. “Let me put everything back on, I’m sorry schatje, give me—“ In a hurry, he puts his underwear and shorts back on, tripping over himself and almost falling over. “I just can’t do this naked, I’m sorry.” 

That brings a laugh out of you and a laugh out of him, and you start explaining as he sits back down next to you, rubbing your arm. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.” You shake your head, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. “I should’ve listened to what you sent me, I should’ve been there more.” 

“Bro,” he deadpans, beckoning you to come and sit on his lap. 

You do, still trying to get the tears out of your eyes as you settle into his arms. “Shut up, don’t call me bro while I’m crying,” you laugh, voice weak but lighthearted.

“Bro. I will do it again.” Joost gives you a second to let it out more, to breathe as he smooths his hands back and forth on your back. “You did everything perfectly, lieverd. Perfectly. We were both so busy, and you still made time to call me and text me. I would have been lost without you, I know for certain.” 

You shake your head. “I forgot to reply and pick up your texts so many times, Joost, I felt like such a bad person for doing so.” 

“You did? I didn’t notice. All I cared about was that you replied.  You’re not a bad person at all,” Joost says, and the sweetness of his words just make you want to cry more. “I appreciate more from you the effort that you put into everything, into what we have. Not what you couldn’t or didn’t do.” 

“You’re so nice,” you whisper, sniffling. You can’t think of a better compliment with how overwhelmed you are, so you kiss him, instead, and he kisses back. Even with this, you can tell how gentle Joost is holding your cracked pieces back together. 

“I’m nice?” he asks, smiling. “Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” For a little, you both sit there in the silence together. “How about this—tomorrow, we can have a day to ourselves. You can lounge and study by the pool, and I’ll be your little butler or whoever and we can just relax for a bit, hm? Order food, drink, smoke, whatever.” Pausing, he grins. “We can even listen to the whole album, if you want.”

“You finished it?” you ask, sitting up more and incredulous. That’s complete news to you.

“This morning, right before I flew back here,” Joost says, nodding proudly. “I also texted you, but duty calls, no?” 

“You texted me?” He texted you? And you missed it?!?!? Again, the new information makes you cry, and he holds you tight as you do. “You should be mad that I didn’t see it,” you say in between dry heaves into his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“I could never be mad at you, lieverd, and I’m sorry I made you cry again,” he says, rubbing your back, petting your hair. “I just wanted to let you know when I did it—it was just a timestamp, that doesn’t mean you needed to know right that second.” 

“But I wanted to know.” 

“You know now, and I know how proud you are of me. That’s enough, that’s even more than what I wanted.” You trust him and his words so fully, every passing second with him is another way to help you feel better. “I love you,” Joost says your name so seriously, a punctuation to his love letter. “I mean it.” 

“I love you too.” You kiss him, deeply, moments passing that you use to thank everything you can that he’s so good with your worries, your anxieties. “I’ll take you up on that offer for tomorrow, Joost,” you say, finally calmed down enough. Your eyes are incredibly bleary—you didn’t know that was possible. But at least you aren’t actively crying anymore. “Thank you for everything.” 

“Thank you for giving me something more to look forward to, schat. Now—let’s go run a bath together and listen to my song for you.” 

[purinfelix]

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was. 

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together. 

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it. 

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand. 

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong. 

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side. 

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded. 

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one. 

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone. 

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“ 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” 

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh. 

“Well you don’t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.” 

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling. 

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” 

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced. 

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.” 

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. 

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to. 

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for. 

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on. 

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you. 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face. 

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours. 

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again. 

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse. 

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you. 

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you. 

“Hey!” 

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already. 

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. 

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.” 

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making. 

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired. 

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.” 

“Franco,” you say, quietly. 

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?” 

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, just go celebrate.” 

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?” 

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight. 

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now. 

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive. 

“Aren’t we?” 

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.” 

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief. 

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”  

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!” 

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore. 

“I love you.” He finally says. 

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room. 

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you. 

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh. 

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.” 

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said. 

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately. 

“I love you too, Franco.” 

“Wh- really?” 

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

“Like, seriously?” 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then. 

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat. 

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you. 

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly. 

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger. 

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[sniigura-archive]

night sky

college au! Adam x fem!Reader

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 ; Part 5 ; Masterlist

Summary: Make up, make out- I MEAN!!!

CW/TW/TAGS: SMUT! College Au, Adam is his own warning, semi public sex, misogyny, insecurities on readers side, referenced mental health issues, outdoor sex, squirting, oral sex fem receiving, fingering, controlling behaviour, angst, fighting, making up, manipulative behaviour, jealousy, breeding kink, creampie, tell me if i missed smth

You have been spending an embarrassing amount of time staring into the mirror and stalking Eve’s Instagram account. If anyone ever catches you going insane over a guy like that you would just drop dead on the spot. Not even Judas made you crazy like this.

Part of you feels bad about having violated Adam’s privacy like that. The other part couldn’t give less of a fuck.

He does it all the time so why shouldn’t you??? Equality, or whatever.

After finding the pictures and video on Adam’s phone you have been back on your avoidance trip. You haven’t felt this inadequate before. Well, you have. You haven’t felt this bad in a while. Your careful build up self confidence was gone just like that.

You are pretty sure Adam hates you a bit. It wasn’t bad where you were completely ignoring him. You still text him back (When you feel like it), and talk to him (When he comes to you). He’s becoming restless, you can feel it. Might have to do with the sex ban. Or maybe you keep making excuses about how busy you were.

You tell Adam you’re going to the cafeteria with your friends, and suddenly he’s also there with Lute. Watching you. You work a shift and oh! What a coincidence! He needs to replace his guitar strings! Of course he has to be in the store and talk your ear off your whole shift. Probably has to do with Lucifer turning up that one time.

You text him you can’t hang out, since you have to study in the library. Hanging out just means Adam trying to take your clothes off and you refusing. You can’t stand the idea of not being covered around Adam right now. Wiping Adam’s memory of your body clean would be a dream right now.

Well, you can’t really drown in your insecurities when you keep yourself busy. So you typed away on your laptop, trying to get your last paper for the semester done. You are free after this, all exams are written and assignments submitted. Then you could finally fall into a coma for a week. After that you’re back to working extra shifts for minimum wage with annoying costumers.

Someone pulled out the earphone out of your ear by the cord, you jumped slightly, bashing your knee against the table.

“Motherfu- Adam! Stop sneaking up on me.” You whisper yelled at Adam.

You both were alone in this section, its your hidden little gem. No one around, so technically you could yell at him, but you also don’t want to draw attention to you both.

“Hey, baby. You really know how to make a man search for you. This here your little corner?” He chuckled at you, while pulling out the chair besides yours. He plopped down, his thigh brushing against your knee.

Adam was leaning towards you, his breath fanning against your cheek. You could smell his cologne, “Made me think for a sec that you weren’t here. But you are a good girl, aren’t you? Always telling me truthfully where you are and with who.”

Man, you really were whipped for Adam, because this was turning you on.

Adam grasped the nape of your neck into his rough hand, he easily crossed the small distance between you two and smashed your lips together. He gently bit your lower lip and then brushed his tongue against it. You didn’t have much of a chance, opening your mouth for him before your brain could properly catch up to it.

While Adam’s tongue was entangled with yours, you were holding his face in your hands. His one hand, which wasn’t placed gently around your neck, was wandering across your waist and hips. Finally your rational mind hit you in the face. Separating your mouth from Adam’s made his brows furrow unhappily,

“I really have to do get this done.” You mumbled against his wet lips.

“Aw, babe, you’re such a hard worker. You want me to reward you?” His hand moved from your hand into the waistband of your jeans.

Panic flashed through your body. All your mind could conjure up was the horrible realisation that you aren’t pretty enough, you aren’t smart enough, you weren’t form the right social class and you were just straight up not up to Adam’s standard.

It’s not just Eve and Lilith, its all the girls he had something with. They were all pretty, decked out in expensive and well fitting clothes, they knew their way around fucking trusts funds and the stock market and whatever else. They live a life you can only dream of.

“Get your hand off of me!” You couldn’t help but snap at Adam defensively.

Adam followed your wish, his hands leaving you. You felt cold without his touch.

You saw Adam bite his lip, taking a deep breath. He was probably trying not to snap back at you.

“What’s the fucking matter with you?” He still ended up hissing at you.

As fast as the emotions boiled over, you felt yourself deflate immediately. You had a hard time staying mad at Adam right now. It’s not really his fault that you’re drowning in self pity.

“..I’m sorry. I don’t know, I’m just stressed..I think.” You focus your eyes on your laptop screen. Being a bad liar keeps biting you in the ass. But well, you are stressed. The fact that Adam is stressing you out is something you were going to keep a secret.

“Mmh, what’s stressing my baby out?” Adam’s hand went to gently brush a few strands behind your ear.

“Life.” Is all you sighed out.

“I know a fool prove stress reliever for that, it’s-“ Adam’s lips were brushing against your ear.

“I swear if you say orgasms…” You side eyed him.

“..Going on a date with me! Get your fucking mind out the gutter, sweet thing. But I wouldn’t say no to fucking you, of course.” Adam kissed your cheek, his lips moving towards your jaw, “You want me to overstimulate you, till you can’t think straight?”

Adam’s stubbles were tickling your skin, you giggled and gently shoved your elbow towards him. Shaking him off successfully, you grasped his jaw into your hand and gave his lips a quick kiss. You had to be quick, otherwise he would rope you into a make out session.

“I need to be able to think, so no thank you. Don’t pout like that. Go jerk off or something.” You continue to type away on your laptop, while reading through some paragraphs of the open book laying down besides you.

“Agh, flash me at least your pussy. Or! Send me a nude! Wouldn’t that be romantic?….I would even take you fucking bending over with all your clothes on. Please?” Adam went to rub his cheek against your shoulder while trying to give you puppy eyes.

You snorted at him, yeah as if.

“You are a distraction, Adam.”

“Love how you say my name. Do it again just breathier and more high pitched. Kinda like this ‘Adam~ Adam pleeeaseee~’ “ He mocked your moans from how ever many nights ago.

You felt yourself flush from embarrassment and shoved his face away, while he laughed at you.

“Leave or be quiet.” You told him sternly.

Adam wrapped his arms around your waist, while he still chuckled at his own joke. He laid his head across your shoulder,

“I will be a good boy, Mummy.” He cheekily told you.

You shifted around in your uncomfortable chair. This guy will be the death of you. Shaking your head at him, you went to fully focus on your work.

Adam seemed to struggle more with staying focused than you. His fingers drummed against your thigh, against the desk and all over your arm. He blew air against your ear, and played around with your hair. His legs kept bouncing around and he was constantly humming something. Adam took your one hand into his own, and played around with your fingers. He fiddled around with the rings in your fingers and he kept trailing his finger tip over your ring finger.

“..You have a hard time staying still?” You decide to ask Adam.

“Why the fuck do you ask?” He seemed defensive.

You just shrugged your shoulders, “Just wondering. I don’t mind, I can focus no matter how loud or busy it is.”

“Oh yeah? Why ask me to be quiet then?”

“…It’s hard to focus with you around. It semi works if you don’t talk.” It’s true, it’s just his looks and smell and everything that makes your head spin.

Adam grinned happily at that, “Babe, you just admitted that you find me soooo irresistible. Want me bad, huh?”

“I want to keep my scholarship more than anything.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Yeah, yeah. I fucking get it. It’s sexy that you’re such a hard worker. Means you also work hard to jump on this dick.”

“I don’t have to work hard for that.”

“You callin’ me a whore?” Adam asked with faux offence.

“I would describe you more as a slut.” You joke back at him.

Adam lifted your hand in his up to his fingers and lightly bit down on your bare ring finger. You wiggled your trapped finger around.

“At least you’re a loyal slut!” You tell him cheerily.

Adam laughed at your words. He kissed the back of your hand and moved his face towards your own. His lips locked with yours and he brushed his tongue against your soft lips.

“ ‘M totally your slut, baby.” He mumbled against your lips.

You snorted at that, pushing at his shoulders to create some space. Snickering into the air, you rested your forehead against his shoulder. His hands were on your waist, brushing all over your body.

“Dude, I really need to get the first draft done today.” You grumbled into his shirt.

“I’m here for emotional and sexual support, babe, go ahead and work.” Yeah, if this was so easy you’d be done already.

It took you longer than necessary to finish your first draft. Whenever you moved around to get new books, or put some away Adam always made sure to grope and slap your ass. He fumbled around with your shirt to get off as many buttons as possible, before you slapped his hand away. Occasionally he put his head on your lap, but you had to yank him away by his hair because he buried his face in between your legs. One time you dropped a book and when you crawled under the table he sleazily asked you if you were going to give him under desk support. Sometimes you wished he would drop dead.

After you were finally done, your head was basically smoking. Adam was happily drumming his fingers against his thighs, waiting for you to finish packing your things.

“I’m going to take you home, honeypot. There we can have some real fun.” Adam was basically beaming with excitement.

“Dude, no…I have to get some sleep in.” You also wanted to hide away and be alone with your thoughts.

“Shit. Fuck. Let me at least drive you home.” Adam grasped your packed bag into his hand.

Adam was getting bolder and bolder with his display of affection in public, which was kind off stressful regarding your ex is his drummer. You aren’t quite sure why you would want to protect Judas feelings. Maybe you just don’t want to be labeled as a slut.

Are you a slut?

Probably. It doesn’t matter in the end.

Adam dragged you into his side by your waist. His hand slipped into the back pocket of your jeans. At least the library was rather empty.

“How much longer am I going to be on your shit list for, baby? What can I do to have you forgive me?” He whispered in your ear.

Right. You told him you weren’t going to sleep with him because he pissed you off. You’re such a genius actually.

“Till my bruise is finally faded.” You pushed your cheap bracelets to the top of your arm to show the stubborn bruise which haunted your relationship with Adam.

“Shit. It’s still there?” Adan gently took your wrist into his hand, giving it a soft kiss. His finger marks were clearly imprinted on your skin, “I swear to you, my heart, this will never happen again. I am going to make sure you will be the happiest woman alive.”

You snorted sarcastically at that, “Alright. Whatever you say.”

“I’m being dead fucking serious.”

“You better be, because I’m going to murder you if do something like that ever again.” You ended up snapping at him, while yanking your bruised wrist out of his grasp.

Next time you were going to just not fuck a guitarist in a bathroom. It would save you a lot of heartache and trouble.

At least Adam really looked remorseful. He was also seemingly more aware of his strength, he’s much more careful with the way he handles you.

The rest of the walk to the car was uneventful. You talked Adam’s ear off about your work and he at least had the decency to nod his head and ask questions when it was appropriate. You were hoping to bore him to death with it, but he seemed genuinely interested in what you do. Or maybe he was a good actor? Judas on the other hand couldn’t care less about what you had to say, on any topic.

In the car Adam told you about his plans or lack of. He always gave you a glance when he said he is free all day Thursday and man, the weekend is going to be sooo boring with him alone. Totally not suspicious. You rolled your eyes at him while laughing.

Once Adam’s car stopped in-front of your home, you gave him a kiss. When you pulled away, he immediately yanked you back in to his mouth. Adam hummed against your lips,

“Text me, baby, alright?”

You nodded at him, with a soft voice you told him, “Of course. Thanks for driving me home, Adam.”

“Mmh, everything for my pretty slut.”

He does have to ruin most soft moments. Biting your tongue, you got out of the car and swung your bag over your shoulder. Unlocking the door, you waved at Adam who was watching you closely, and got into the ugly building. Walking up the stairs, you got into your apartment and threw yourself into your bed. FUCK.

A nap will be great.

———

Two cake transport boxes were in your hands, and your two companions on your sides were little help. Judas was begging right now, something about an oral exam and how he needed your notes for that. Bernadette on the other hand was talking your ear off about some new cowboy inspired club that opened and how you totally need to go there. Ugh.

You were a bit late. Usually you’re punctual, but you kind of overslept and then you had to go back because you forgot your baked desserts. With quick steps you walked towards the picnic tables and little grill stationed at the green campus. It was filled with the exorcists girls and Adam at the grill. Everyone was having obvious fun.

Bernadette shoved her phone into your face, causing you to nearly stumble and fall over. It took a bit to focus your eyes on the screen. A mechanical bull?

“Oh. Those are cool.” You simply told her. Finally reaching the table, you slammed down the boxes in front of Monica and Dymphna in exhaustion. Adam was watching you with curious eyes.

“You like riding the bull?” Bernadette asked you with a grin, her eyes wandering briefly towards Adam. The news of yours and Adam’s reconciliation was taken in differently by your friends.

Monica and Dy eagerly opened the boxes, taking a look at what you baked for them. They were supposed to bring something for this get together, but they were both horrible bakers and only self made things were allowed. They were lucky that you have been doing lots of stress baking. You couldn’t quite decide if you should lose weight, gain weight, gain muscles, have less muscles, be shorter, be taller. So! Baking!

“I don’t think you’re funny.” You told her with a glare.

“That’s okay, this is mostly for my own entertainment.” Bernadette shrugged your words off.

“Light of my life-“ Judas placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” You immediately slapped his hand off of you.

“-I need your assistance for this. I am begging yooooouuuu!” His voice turned annoyingly whiny and high pitched.

“When’s your exam?” You sighed heavily.

“..10 minutes.”

“10-?!….You should pick a god to pray to. That’s the only thing that can help you now.”

“Ha Ha. Coming from the atheist. I just need to to take a look at your notes, I swear! Nothing more.” He had his hands clasped together.

“Does it look like I have any notes on me?!” You exploded at Judas, while gesturing wildly to your body. Besides the boxes, the only thing you had on you was a purse as big as your hand, “I can’t help you. You’re on your own.”

Monica was cutting open a bread roll, and placed some sauces, vegetables and meat in it.

While you and Judas continued to discuss the logistics of you driving home to send him your notes (it would take you at least 20 minutes and you don’t want to).

“What are you guys up to this weekend?” Bernadette asked her other friends, while listening to you and Judas.

“Oh! Oh! We are planning this romantic dinner and then-“ Dymphna excitedly told her dear friend.

“Well, I have decided we will go to the new club that opened. Girls get free entry and 50% off on drinks! We haven’t had a proper girls night in a while…Sorry you can’t take your new boo with you.” The last sentences from Bernadette was obviously addressed towards you, with the way she was wiggling her brows at you. She showed your friends the page of the club, and they were scrolling through the posts.

“You won’t help me out cause you got a new boyfriend? That’s cruel….. Who is it?”

“I- Okay- I’m going to go now,” You pointed at the mass of brownies, cake and cupcakes you baked, “I don’t want any leftovers, I can’t see that stuff anymore.”

Monica handed you the sandwich she had been making, extra for you, “Thank you again. Love you!”

“I love you more!” Dy tried to out do her girlfriend.

“I love you most!” Bernadette yelled out.

You took it and shoved the food into your mouth, while waving everyone goodbye. Avoiding eye contact with Adam and ignoring Judas questioning yells of who you are with, you made your way to the bus station. Someone called in sick so you sacrificed your free day to work.

Shit, you wanted to yell at Judas for giving Lucifer your number. Whatever, you have a feeling Judas won’t stay away for long.

Adam took a brownie from the tray, taking a bite from it, “Man, that’s some good shit.”

And you were so not going to that club.

———

Your pretty underwear was uncomfortable, pinching and rubbing. At least your bra was doing its job of pushing up. You might rock the look of a sexy cowgirl but you would prefer to just…Be at home how you planed.

Learning how to say no was now your priority.

Once you finally got in, after standing in the long line for god knows how long, you made your way into the club with your friends. Bodies against bodies, the music was blaring and the light was going to give you a headache. Man, this will be great.

It didn’t take long for you to lose sight of your friends. You decided to get something to drink. Pushing your way through people, you stumbled towards the bar and waited for someone to take your order.

“Heya! What a surprise to see you here!” Ugh. Judas.

You just grimaced at him.

“You want to share who your new-“

“Dude. Seriously. Drop it.” You waved him off.

Judas frowned, “Is it someone I know?”

“Ugh…By the way, what the fuck are you doing just giving my number out?”

“What? To who did I give your number again…?”

“Lucifer.”

“Luci… Oh! No, sweetie, I gave it to Lilith. She said you guys have some seminar together?”

Oh, they’re good. You will give them that.

Shaking your head at that, you decide to ignore Judas.

“Here, you can have the rest of my pack. Sorry for causing any inconvenience, bae.” Judas pressed a pack of cigarette into your hands in an attempt at an peace offering. He winked at you, grabbed his drink and walked off.

Finally the bartender came towards you, and for a second you blanked out completely.

“Can I get a uhh, fuck….Red russian?” You dug your nails into the wood of the bar.

Handing you your drink, the bartender asked if you wanted to open a tab. Thinking it over for a second, you decided against it. You gave him a bill and told him to keep the rest. Grasping the cold glass into your hand, you looked around for your friends. You felt someone bump against you roughly, and when you turned your head to look to your side you made eye contact with the prettiest doe eyes in the world.

Eve looked at you apologetic, her full, glossy lips opened to probably spew out apologies. She was shorter than you and in your mind, much much more beautiful too. A white dress adored her plump, soft body.

Before you could properly process your actions, you let your wrist lax and your red drink spilled on to her dress. It was quick enough to let it seem like it was because of her bumping into you.

Man you’re a bad person.

“I’m so sorry!”

“So sorry!”

You both called out at the same time. You grabbed some napkins and helped her clean up as best as you could. She thanked you and excused herself to go to the restroom. This will probably haunt you for the rest of your days. It was worth it though.

You drowned your drink down in one go. Usually you drink exactly 0 alcohol. The reason being you are a horrible lightweight, together with your meds causing you to get drunk even faster. The taste of liquor hit your tongue, a fire burning through your body. This is what you get for drinking on an empty stomach.

Placing the empty glass back down on the bar, you walked towards the mechanical bull. Finally you spotted your friends. And Adam. Adam and Lute chatting with your friends. You should have known he’d be there.

You joined them, Monica wrapped her arm around you. Your eyes were on the bull, a girl was on there right now. She was doing okay. It was very hot though, watching her hips move like that. Would you also look good like that?

“Are you thinking off getting on?” Lute asked you.

“I’m honestly considering it. It would just be embarrassing if I fall off right after a few seconds…” You said as you watched the girl tumble off, “I saw a girl do like, fucking stunts on this thing!”

“It’s really impressive. I will be cheering for you.”

“With those thighs? Babe, you’re going to crush that shitty robot!” Adam cheered you on.

Nobody else seemed to be getting in. Whatever, you were just going to blame it on the one drink you had. Liquor courage or maybe you’re just stupid and out to embarrass yourself. Hauling yourself into the area, you skill fully swung yourself on the bull.

Once you were comfortable sat and grasped the strap into your hand, you felt the bull start to shift around. It started slow, rocking back and forth. It started to speed up faster than you anticipated, throwing you around. You were sure one of your friends was filming this.

Adam and Lute kept true to their words, they were cheering you on. Hollering louder than anyone else. You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

In your mind you were doing good, looking sexy as fuck, in reality you probably looked like a fish out of water. Whatever, you were just going to live with your delusions. After a few more seconds you were thrown off, hitting the padded ground.

You quickly got up again, flipping your hair out of your face. With shaky knees you made your way back towards your friends and whatever you could classify Adam as.

“Baby! You were doing so well! Nearly broke the record.” Adam helped you back down, setting you down besides him.

“Thanks! It was pretty cool.” You giggled breathlessly.

Bernadette grasped your elbow into her dainty hand and pulled you towards her, “Girls night! Bye, Boo!”

And with that Bernadette yanked you and your friends towards the dance floor. It didn’t take long for you to split from them, making your way to the restroom. Fuck there was a line. Life is really the worst.

After painful minutes of you standing around, chatting with random drunk girls who you immediately fell in love with, starring at your phone screen and smiling at the cringe texts Adam sent you, you finally got in. Doing your business and taking your rings and bracelets off to wash your hands, it took you less time to do all that than standing around. Putting your rings back on, you shoved your bracelets into your jeans pocket. You didn’t want the other girls to wait for you to get finally done.

Getting out of the restroom, you tried to orient yourself. Maybe you should stoop just wandering off or maybe you should just stay home.

“Watch out!” A sultry, feminine voice called out towards you.

Someone pulled you to the side, at the right moment. A waiter tripped and spilled the tray of drinks everywhere. You can’t imagine getting that tray smashed into your head.

“Oh my god. Thank you so much.” You looked back to see a beautiful, tall blonde woman smile down at you. Oh no. She’s beautiful.

“Oh dear! That was close!” Lucifer commented, “Good call, Lili.”

Ah so that’s Lilith. Adam why couldn’t you have average looking exes? Does he want to send you back to therapy?

“It’s you! That’s Adam’s..Well.” Luckier trailed off, making some vague gestures with his hands.

“It’s me. The poor cashier you harassed.” You monotonously told him.

Lucifer spluttered around helplessly, trying to defend himself. Lilith on the other hand was checking you out.

“How is he?” She gently asked, her hand reassuringly brushing over Lucifers shoulder. Her wedding ring gleamed even in the low light.

“Good..?” You didn’t quite know what else to say.

In hindsight now, the waiter should have bashed your head in with that tray. That’s better than whatever you have going on here.

“That’s good..” Lilith nodded at you, “You know…I- We know how Adam can be. You’re always free to talk to any of us.”

You wondered who that us included exactly.

“I won’t need it.” You didn’t even bother smiling back at them, you just wanted to leave. Your hand moved to nervously fidget around with your necklaces. It was subtle, the way they eyed your wrist and winced slightly. Shit, that’s right. No bracelet. You quickly crossed your arms behind your back. You probably look shifty as fuck. Great.

“We are probably the last people you want to hear this from,” Lucifer gently started, and you mentally agreed with him.

“But Adam…You should stop seeing him. He’s controlling and has a temper, but I fear you already know that.” Lilith continued. She was searching for the right words. To not scare you off, so you would hear them out.

Lucifer eyes were focused on something behind you, “..And if that isn’t enough, he might not be quite over his last break up.”

You followed his gaze to see Adam stand a few good meters away from you. His body language was tense, clenched jaw and hands made into fists, but the more he talked to Eve the more he seemed to relax.

If there wasn’t such a long line for the restroom you’d probably go there to throw up.

You kind of tuned out whatever else L&L had to say, something about you being a rebound and deserving better. Yeah right. Do they think you’re stupid? Of course you know that Adam is only after your body.

You try to repress the fact that it still hurts.

Turning around on your heels, you walked away from the couple and the heart wrenching sight. Where to? Some uncoordinated steps lead you up the stairs, going straight towards the roof. Opening the door, you hoped that it wouldn’t lock you out. Oh wait, there’s a piece of wood. Jamming it in between door and door frame, you let yourself breath in some fresh air.

Should you be worried that you went through a ‘Staff Only’ door just like that?

Eh, you wouldn’t really care if they threw you out.

Rubbing your hands over your arms, you made the horrible realisation that it’s cold. Looking around, you decided to walk around the entrance, hiding behind the wall. Otherwise someone would immediately spot you.

Rummaging through your purse, you pulled out Judas cigarettes and your lighter. What else were you going to do? Lightening your cig and taking a drag, you tried to collect your thoughts.

Okay. Alright. Squatting on the ground, you rubbed your hands over your face.

So! You’re a rebound. Why are you even hurt? It’s not like you’re together (but why did he call himself your boyfriend?). Maybe he’s also a rebound! Who knows! Sighing into the cold night air, you knew that wasn’t true.

Could you do it? Could you ride this out for as long as possible? Until he gets back with Eve? Until he leaves you? You really didn’t want him to leave. You should really get your shit together, he’s just some guy who can fuck good and you lose all your self respect over him.

He just has you so captivated! You don’t even get why! This is horrible.

Besides, you should remember that Lilith and Lucifer are unreliable sources.

Ashing your cig, you took a look at the ground to see lots of cigarette buts around. So you stumbled upon someone’s smoking spot. Bless whatever fellow minimum wage workers come here to destress.

Should you just ignore your whole conversation with the married couple? Act like nothing happened? You were much calmer now. Taking your last drags, you put out your smoke by your feet. Carelessly throwing the bud away from you, you buried your face in between your knees.

You heard the door quietly open and close, causing you to tense up. Man some employee was going to kick you off now. Maybe you can evade them? Shuffling as quietly as possible around, you tried to peek behind the corner.

You didn’t see anyone? And there were no foot steps? Was it just the wind? Are you officially going to go crazy because of your situationship? What-fucking-ever, you were going to go back. Standing up, you shook out your legs. Let’s just act like the whole thing didn’t happen.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Adam’s seething voice called out to you.

“Oh my fucking-! Stop sneaking up on me!” You spun around, facing him.

“Answer me.” His eyes burned into you.

It took a second for your brain to catch up. You knew he meant you talking to his Sworn Enemies.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” You decided on saying.

Adam clicked his tongue unhappily at you, “Don’t play fucking stupid with me, woman. You should know your fucking place by now.” He was slowly coming closer.

Rolling your eyes at him, you tried to take a few breaths so you wouldn’t blow up at him. Your place? God you hate him.

“I don’t get what you fucking want from me.” You threw your hands up in despair, taking a few steps away from him, “You- You fucking try to control me and then you’re so nice to me! And! And then! You are so angry with me and I don’t even know what you fucking want from me! Then you say that you’re my boyfriend!? Stop treating me like your toy.”

“Toy?! As if you’re any fucking better! I try to make it so fucking clear what I want from you!” Adam flexed his hands in an aggregated fashion.

“Yeah! Be your rebound! Just..Leave me be.”

“What the hell are you yapping about?” Adam suddenly inhaled sharply, pinching his nose bridge, “Those fucking snakes…”

“It’s not them! I saw the nudes of Eve on your phone!” You stomped your feet at him.

“What fucking- You went through my phone?! Are you out of your damn mind?!” Adam stuttered around.

“You go through my phone all the time??” You were actually losing your mind. At least he was right with one thing.

“That’s fucking different!” Adam went through his hair with his hand.

“How is it different exactly?” You dug your nails into your palms.

“Well, first off. I’m the guy-“

“Oh my god…” You interrupted him.

All you could do is laugh at this whole situation. Adam frowned at you.

“Baby, let’s not be like that. Cmon, tell me what you talked about with those assholes.” Adam tried to catch flies with honey now. Ugh.

“I actually think we should talk about you not being over Eve.” You loved poking the bear actually.

“I am over that betraying whore! Why else would I run after you?!” He was slowly but surely reaching his limit with you. Ha Ha.

“Yeah right. Why keep those pictures then?” Does he think you’re that stupid?

“I forgot I even had them.” He mumbled out guilty.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Yeah right.”

“What does it fucking matter to you? You’re the one still being best buds with damn Judas.”

“I was scolding him for giving my number to Lucifer!”

“Oh.” Adam rubbed his neck, carefully eyeing you, “You have a really interesting way of asking what we fucking are.” He tried to change the topic.

You scoffed at him. He’s so annoying.

Part of you isn’t surprised that Adam kept those pictures and even the video. It wasn’t for blackmail purposes, that you were sure off. It was for the same reason Adam reacts so violently towards Lucifer, as if it happened yesterday.

Adam has never let go of anything that ever happened to him.

That realisation quietly hit you. He hangs on to wrong doings from the past, which shouldn’t matter anymore. But they dedicate his every step. He fuels himself with spite and the knowledge that he is supposedly better than them.

You blinked at Adam, softly exhaling. The fury has left your body.

“That’s okay. I now know what we are.”

Adam looked at you confused and when he saw you turn around to leave, panic filled his body. He lunged forward, grasping your shoulder in his hand and spinning you around.

“You don’t know shit. Don’t leave. I will delete everything. Every picture, every video, every contact you don’t like. I will do it all…Just don’t leave.” Adam gently cupped your face into his big hands. His eyes were pleading.

“..You don’t even know me. I don’t get you.” You whispered. Adam’s eyes were searching yours. You weren’t quite sure what he was looking for.

“You’re such a bitch. You really don’t remember? And I always thought you were fucking ignoring me on purpose…” Adam leaned his head forward, brushing his nose against yours. He quickly pulled away again, not wanting to get distracted by you.

You simply furrowed your brows in confusion at him.

Adam pressed you against his chest now, leaving soft kisses at the top of your head. You simply let your arms hang at your side, you don’t want him to think he’s forgiven.

“You remember those compulsory course in theology we had to do during freshmen year?” He mured against your ear.

You don’t actually. To your own defence you don’t remember much before your college sophomore year. It was all successfully repressed, tucked away somewhere where it would hopefully not come to haunt you. You do remember your friends saying you were a huge bitch during freshmen year. Why they still wanted to befriend you is a huge mystery to you still.

You didn’t quite know how to be a person back then.

Shaking your head carefully, you let Adam continue his story.

“We were in the same course. Got put into a project together, just us. Fuck, you were a real cunt. Constantly fighting with me over everything. A honest to god know it all. Then you also had the audacity to critique my music taste? Told me that I need to listen to music outside of Daddies sphere.” He laughed into your hair at the memory, while you were embarrassed by your past self.

“Mmh, we talked a lot about music. Mostly you making recommendations and me being mad that they were actually good. One time I threatened you with my mother, which just confused you. It was weird to know that you didn’t know who I was. I was just an annoying, sexy, nobody in your eyes.”

That’s right, his mother is the chancellor of the weird private, christian college you both go to. To be honest you only found that out from your friends, who told you after you hooked up with Adam. You live behind the moon or something.

“You like me because I was mean to you? You are a real masochist.” You mumbled against his shirt.

“Only for you, baby! I had such a hard time getting ahold of you? And then you turned up with fucking Judas and god I wanted to kill him. You changed, too. You’re happier. I like that. It suits you.” Adam had his arms wrapped around you.

You finally lifted your own arms, to hug Adam back.

“I don’t want you to be a rebound. I want you to be my fucking…girlfriend. The whole package. I want everyone to know we are together, I want to leave fucking hickeys on your neck, I want you to come to me whenever you’re sad or- or mad or when you have a problem. I want you to yell and scream at me, to punch me and bite me, be as mean as you want, baby. I need to be with you. Please?” Adam was now holding you infront of him, still close of course. You don’t think you have seen him this vulnerable before. His hands were shaky.

“You don’t have to answer now-“ He tried to deflect, he was pulling back.

“I want that too! It’s just..You can’t keep doing that. I can’t be with you, if you let the past control you like that. Yelling at me won’t be good, for either of us. You have to talk to me like I’m your equal, not your possession.” You told him with teary eyes, “This can’t work if we both keep being so angry.”

Adam nodded at your words, and sighed, “Yeah, yeah. We can totally work on that together though!” He pressed you against himself again.

“I don’t think you want to be with me.”

“Why fucking not? Just cause you’re a bit crazy? Don’t you know about the Hot-Crazy scale, babe?”

“Well…You won’t meet my parents for one.”

Adam shrugged at that, “That’s good news.”

“And it’s not just freshmen year that I don’t really remember. It’s everything before that too.” It felt shameful to confess this.

Adam’s hand brushed over the back of your head, “That bad, huh? That’s okay with me, baby.”

“My friends are my family now, though. So you have to be nice to them. They…Fuck. They forced me into therapy and still pay for my meds.” You wanted to hide away.

“Mmh, I can pay for your meds. I can pay for everything.” He buried his nose into your hair.

“Yeah, no. I don’t want you to waste your money on me.”

“ ‘S not wasted if I spend it on you.” Adam tilted your head, looking into your eyes.

“You’re going to start sucking my dick again?” He breathlessly asked you.

“Dunno. Let’s delete the folder and we will see how I feel.” You told him with an eye roll.

Adam immediately whipped out his phone and went with you through his gallery.

“I can’t actually believe that girls just send those to you.” You have never seen so many tits in one night.

“What can I say? Bitches love me. You have lots of competition.” He snickered at his own bad joke.

Once he saw how unhappy you looked, he immediately tried to back track.

“You’re so funny, Adam. How about some more weeks of celibacy?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

“NO! You know my dick gets only hard for you. Don’t be like thaaatt.” He was whining.

“Pft. Now, delete everything out of deleted folder so it’s gone for good.”

“Yes ma'am. Any contacts that need to go too?”

“..How about we block Eve?” You asked carefully.

Adam snorted at that, “Sure, if you bock Judas.”

“Deal.” You both shook hands and exchanged phones, you blocked Eves from his and Adam blocked Judas from your phone.

“..What do you have in your hidden folder?” You asked Adam, finger hovering over it.

“Fucking nothing!” He quickly tried to get his phone out of your hand. You were quicker, hiding it behind your back.

“Adam, seriously?” You really shouldn’t have trusted him after all. What of Eve is in there?

“Fuck. Don’t look at me like that. I will show you, if you promise to be open fucking minded.” He grumbled unhappily.

You nodded carefully at him, handing him back his phone.

Adam nervously unlocked the folder, watching you closely for your reaction.

Your mouth fell open in shock, “That’s me! It’s all me. Why is it me?”

You looked at Adam for answers, but he was too busy hiding his face from you. Focusing back on his phone, you saw the screenshots and screen recordings of old as dirt social media posts. Did he black out Judas face? That’s kind of funny.

“You took a picture of me sleeping?!” You zoomed in on that picture.

It must have been when you first slept over at Adam’s place. You were passed out on his chest, and you could see the proud grin on his face.

“Enough now!” He snatched his phone out of your hand. His face was burning in embarrassment.

Some sick part of you felt flattered. You don’t think anyone has ever been so into you.

“The most fucking important thing we need to decide on, babe, is this. Is today our anniversary or when I bend you over the sink in the bathroom?” His mouth was near your ear, whispering seductively into. Ah, he was trying to distract you.

“Of course you would remember the day we first fucked.” You giggled at him.

Adam smashed his lips into your own, to shut you up. He herded you against the wall, pressing against you with his much larger body. His hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the flesh.

“There’s one thing I want to ask off you.” You mumbled against his lips.

“Whatever you want, my heart.” He moved to kiss your jaw and neck. When he said he wants to leave hickeys on your neck he really meant it, huh?

“Let’s, uh, keep our relationship on the down low first. I need to be the one who tells Judas about us. Ah, Adam. Since he kind off hates yoooouuuu.” Adam’s hand wandered over your clothed pussy while you talked, rubbing you through your jeans.

“Ugh, that asshole. Fuck, that reminds me…Baby, babe, you want our relationship to be based on honesty, right?”

Do you really? You carefully agreed with him.

“If I promise not to harass Judas over having the better dick, I need you to promise me to stay with me after I tell you this.” He looked into your eyes, his tongue was nervously wetting his lips.

“Oh god, what did you do? Did you fuck another girl? I can excuse that by saying we weren’t officially together.” You were a bit scared.

“What? Fuck no. There’s only you, baby.” Adam looked at you irritated.

He took your face into his hands and squished your cheeks together. That seemed to cheer him up, with the way he grinned at you.

“So…Where to start? Mmh, baby, you know how Judas was always running his mouth about you?”

You nodded carefully at him.

“It was actually kept strictly confidential aaalll in the band. How I hate that guy. Living my dream of getting to fuck you, to be with you? And he acted so fucking ungrateful. I kept just thinking if only that was me. Tell me, baby, who told you about what was Judas saying about you?” He seemed happy with it all.

“Monica and Dy…?” It sounded more like a question than a proper answer.

“Yeah, it took three fucking training sessions for them to listen in to me and Lute. We talked extra loud around them too! Gossiping bitches..”

It took you a few seconds for your brain to connect everything.

“..Let me get this straight..You let it leak through that Judas was shit talking me to my friends, so that they would tell me and I would break up with him?…All that work just to fuck me?”

That’s actually kind off hot of him but it’s best if he doesn’t know you are into this. Otherwise who knows what he would do.

“Not just to fuck. To keep you to myself. You’re all mine now, aren’t you? So it was all fucking worth it.”

He seemed like an apex predator to you. His big body, strong arms and legs. You were at practice a few times, you saw him in action. He’s like a beast. And the way he always grinned at you? He was going to eat you whole.

You pulled Adam’s face into your own by the his shirt. Both your lips collided into each other. Adam grabbed your ass, squeezing and groping as much as he could.

“You have been crushing on me for how long now? We are at the end of our Junior year after all.” You couldn’t help but giggle out in between kisses.

“Shut uuupp.” Adam buried his face into the crock of your neck. He had to bend awkwardly down for that.

“Adam, love.” You softly called out to him.

“What? Want to make fucking fun of me some more?” He rubbed his hands over your hips and back.

“You don’t wanna consummate your new relationship with me?” You gently played with his hair while speaking.

Adam immediately straightened his back, looking at you with raised brows, “Don’t mess with me, baby. My balls are arching for some relief. You want me to bend you in half on this roof?”

“Please?” You looked up at him, batting your eye lashes.

Adams lips immediately attached to your neck, licking and sucking marks into the sensitive skin. He reached out to unbutton your jeans, shoving his hands into your wet panties. He let his finger explore your pussy freely. Stroking through your folds, rubbing at your clit.

Your hand was in Adam’s hair, tugging gently at the soft strands. Your other hand went towards his shoulder, digging your nails into the shirt he was wearing. Adam entered his finger into your wet pussy, pressing his palms against your clit.

“Take off your shirt.” He mumbled into your neck, lifting his head.

You quickly reached towards your shirt, pulling it off over your head. Carelessly throwing it on to the floor, you let Adam admire your body.

Your arms came up to cross over yourself, self consciousness eating away at you.

Adam’s one hand easily wrapped around both of your wrists and he pinned them against the wall over your head.

“My poor, little baby. How could I ever let you think anyone is prettier than you? You’re so precious to me.” Adam pressed his forehead against yours. His voice was barley above a whisper.

His ring finger pressed against your entrance, slowly stretching you open. Your mouth opened and let out a helpless moan. Adam took the opportunity to shove his tongue down your throat.

He scissored you open, slowly but surely. His palm pressed more against your clit, causing your hips to grind against it. Shit. Fuck. Hot pleasure washed over your body. Damn Adam and the effect he has over your body.

“You going to cum all over my fingers? You like when I fuck you up with them? Yeah? I have to, babe, otherwise I’d split you in half.” He mumbled out in the air.

When you strained your wrists against his hold, he tightened his grip. He pressed your wrists down against the wall more.

“Adaaam. Need you bad. Faster! Please?” You whined out, begging for more.

“How about you beg some more? You were pretty mean to your boyfriend earlier.” He seemed very happy to call himself your boyfriend.

He buried his nose into the valley of your breast. Leaving more marks on your skin.

“Uggghh. My…Fuck!..My fingers can’t reach as far as yours. I neeeeeed you Adam. Can’t get off without you. Please faster?” You looked at Adam with pleading, teary eyes.

“That’s what Daddy likes to hear.” He murmured into the fat of your breasts.

He sped up the motions of his fingers. Rubbing against the sensitive spot inside of you. He knows your body better than you at this point. He made the come hither motions with his finger’s you loved so much, you moaned out for Adam.

You wrangled your wrists more against Adam’s grip. The pleasure was overwhelming you. Before you knew it you clamped down on Adam’s fingers while cuming around them. Adam helped you ride out your orgasms. He gently removed his fingers.

Adam gave you a quick kiss, before he kissed down your body. He kneeled down in front of you now, tugging your jeans down.

“Damn it, again with those fucking shoes.” Adam cursed, while he untied them for you.

You giggled at him and buried your hands in his hair. Messing his hair up. Adam grumbled at you, but he also didn’t stop you. He helped you out of the shoes and out of your jeand and panties.

When you tried to cross your legs, Adam immediately placed his big hands on your thighs to keep them apart.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy. Can’t believe you kept us apart.” Adam’s lip immediately attached to your clit.

You threw your head back, sobbing at the overwhelming feeling. Adam moved so he put your leg over his shoulder. The noises of his slurping filled the air, together with your moans.

Adam moved so he could wiggle his tongue inside of you, taking in as much as your slick as possible. Shit. He wrapped his lips around your pussy lips, gently tugging.

“Adam! Don’t be mean.” You moaned out while yanking on his hair.

Adam chuckled and went back to your clit. Drawing patterns into your clit with his tongue.

You held on to Adam’s hair, to grind your pussy on to his face. Desperately trying to get off, using Adam for your own pleasure. He didn’t seem to mind that much, you could tell from the raging boner in his pants. His heavy dick strained against his zipper.

You can’t wait for him to fuck you again.

Covering your face with your arm, you felt your toes curl as you came all over Adam’s face. Through your hazy mind you were sure you heard him mumble ‘Fuck Yeah’. He licked you clean, while you came down from your high.

Adam sat down on the floor and pulled you down with him. You gasped in surprise, while he sat you down on his lap. He turned so he could rest his back against the wall, while he unzipped his pants. Adam freed his hard dick from his pants,

“I need you to ride my like you rode that bull. That was hot as fuck. Could have busted a nut from the sight alone.” Adam rubbed his tip against your entrance.

You nodded at Adam. Taking in some breaths, you let yourself slide down his thick dick. Adam grasped your hips in his hand, holding on to you.

“Ah, shit. Great fucking sight. Your pussy is the best in the game, baby.” Adam grunted out. He had to hold himself back from fucking into you.

You reached towards your tits, moving so they spilled out of your bra. Pinching your nipples and rolling your hips into Adam’s. He gripped your hips tighter, helping you grind down on to him.

“How bout we do some of this?” Adam asked you.

He moved your hips in a similar fashion the bull did. You gasped at that, letting your head fall forward on to his shoulder. Moving your head to the side, your lips found themselves at home around Adam’s neck. If he can cover you in hickeys so can you.

Adam’s eyes were focused on your pussy. He watched you mesmerised, like he couldn’t believe this was truly happening.

“You need to fucking relax your pussy, baby. You’re dripping all over my pants.” Adam laughed breathlessly at that, he didn’t actually seem mad at that, “You like creaming around my dick?”

“Love it.” You mumbled out.

All you could think about was Adam’s dick rubbing into you, his hands on you and his grunts and moans.

Adam planted his feet on to the ground, and started to fuck in to you. You threw your head back, holding on to Adam’s shoulders. He let his hand wander form your hips toward your pussy, massaging your clit.

Your mouth fell open, you could feel another orgasm approach. While you recognised that feeling, it felt unfamiliar at its core. The pressure quickly build up in your abdomen. You bit your lips.

“You close? Wanna come with you. Need to flood your fucking womb, baby. Want me to breed you real good?” Adam moaned out, his brows were furrowed and he sped up his fingers against your clit.

“Adam! Feels weird. Shit! Please cum inside..” You sobbed out, pleasure clouding your mind.

“Feels weird..? Shit, this going to be fucking goooOOod. Cmon, baby, you gotta let go. Let go for me and I promise ‘M going to make you feel so damn good.” Adam growled out.

He fucked into you even rougher, his movements losing their rhythm. It didn’t really matter, you followed Adam’s instructions blindly. Letting go felt weird, it felt both wrong and amazing.

Before you realised it, you were gushing all around Adam’s dick. Squirting all over his pants wasn’t on your bingo card for today, but so wasn’t fucking with Adam on a roof.

You hid your face in Adam’s neck, shame burned through you.

Adam came inside of you, pumping his load into your waiting hole.

“Sorry! So sorry!” You couldn’t stop yourself, tears started to flow down your cheeks.

You clutched Adam’s crumbled shirt into your hands, sobbing into his neck.

“Shit. Don’t cry, lovely. That was the hottest thing I have ever seen. I made you fucking squirt? Holy shit. My dick that good, baby?” He soothingly ran his hands over your back.

You simply shrugged your shoulders at him. Sobs still wracked your body. Adam hummed some random song tune, his hand brushing over your hair.

It took a few good minutes for you to calm down, “..That was so embarrassing..” You whispered into the cold night air.

“In what world do you fucking live in? From now on, you need to squirt all over my dick every time we fuck. It’s good for my ego, baby, I swear.” He gently nuzzled his nose against your wet cheek.

“Unless you want to go another round, I need you to hop off my dick now, babe.” Adam gently told you.

You lifted your hips up, his half hard dick slipping out of you, together with a flow of his cum. Moving your hands to properly put on your bra again, you rubbed your hands over your face. Trying to wipe away the rest of your tears.

Adam fumbled around to put his dick away. Hearing you sniffle, he reached out to gently hold your face in his hands.

“I swear to you, you’re the hottest person alive in my eyes. There’s nothing you could do to change that. Yeah?” Adam reassured you.

You simply nodded at him. Adam reached around and took your shirt into his hands. He carefully helped you slip it back on. Getting up on weak knees, you picked up your panties and jeans. Getting re-dressed on a roof sure made you question your life choices.

Adam is your boyfriend now. That sure was a turn. Maybe not. He does talk a lot about getting you pregnant. Maybe it goes beyond being a kink.

You heard Adam curse, turning to look at home while zipping up your pants you saw him brush over his pants unhappily. The wet spot from you was placed right on Adam’s crotch. At least he’s wearing black jeans, it hid it somewhat.

“Looks like I fucking pissed myself! Fucking great. We gotta sneak out of here.”

“It won’t be noticed in the club, the light is shitty there. We just gotta avoid the girls, they’re going to have my head for leaving without you.”

“Yeah, baby, shit like that goes against girl code!” Adam gave your forehead a kiss, “Let’s get fucking going.”

You both sneaked back into the club, and you made sure to avoid everyone you knew. Adam was right behind you, with his hand on your lower back. Leaving the club, you looked at Adam questioningly.

“Uhh, I was planning on getting wasted so Lute drove. Let me get an Uber real quick..” Adam reached for his phone.

“It’s like a 10 minute walk to your home. Let’s go!” You tugged on Adam’s arm towards his home.

He groaned, but still followed you.

“..What did the evil blondes talk with you about?”

“Uhh, something about you being controlling and they hinted at you still loving Eve.”

“Those lying motherfuckers-“ Adam pulled you towards him.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Hcs for Itadori x reader, who distances themselves from him and avoids him, because they have feelings for him and are scared, because they don't know how to behave around him and are scared of rejection please?

Itadori is the best person you know. He’s kind and empathetic, always willing to listen to others, and has this endearing positivity about most things. He may not be the brightest person but he’s quick to learn when given the chance. He’s also strong and handsome.

Likewise, people could list positives about you; but in this situation, when you think about what you have to offer in return, all the positives you’ve heard, you still can’t see what is so special about you that someone like him would accept your feelings. You feel inadequate.

You’re don't think you're pin-up model pretty like his posters, Itadori likes tall girls with big asses, he claims, and there’s nothing about his behavior that would insinuate that he likes your personality more than the rest of your friends.

You can’t take another day without telling him, feeling the need to scream out that you like the boy every time he gets too close, touches your arm too readily, calls out your name to back him up in whatever dumb arguments he would have with Kugisaki, or save you a seat right next to him.

You’re terrified that you might accidentally let it slip, and he’d reject you because there isn’t a good enough reason for him to like you as much as you like him. And if your words didn’t make him realize it then your actions would give it away eventually.

Fortunately, Itadori isn’t very perceptive when it comes to romantic feelings towards himself. What he can notice is when one of his friends seems troubled, and he can notice even more that he hasn’t been seeing you around as much lately.

He notices things like you don’t sit next to him anymore at meals, you don’t seem to want to hang out together as much (and when you do you always ask if the others coming too), or when he’s reading a good manga and wants to show you a panel you’re not there.

Itadori thinks he’s done something wrong to make you angry at him, and the guilt of not even knowing what he did wrong starts to preoccupy his mind. Maybe he took one too many snacks out your “secret” snack drawer (shit, did I forget to replace it?) or maybe you didn’t like the way he’d play with and squish your plushies when he’d hang out in your room (they never complained about it so how was I supposed to know!), or maybe you didn’t like his humor (But you laughed at his jokes a lot. But what if it was those awkward uncomfortable laughs and he didn’t notice!)

Itadori is pulling out his hair trying to figure it out. He considers you one of his best friends, and it’d be awkward to be classmates and work together if you hated him.

He gets all desperate about it, annoying Fushiguro and Kugisaki to help him figure out what he did so he can apologize already because every time he tries to ask you swear you’re not mad at him!

He wants to make up already and go back to arguing about stupid things instead, like whether purple or pink hair would suit you the best. He becomes hyper-aware of the pinch in his heart when he thinks about the two of you possibly matching and now you keep avoiding him.

Either Fushiguro or Kugisaki is going to try to force you to talk to him because the tension is getting annoying and a bit sad with how pouty Itadori gets and to tell him that you have a crush on him already. That you’re already pushing him away and losing him by hurting his feelings.

Before you can, Itadori is already onto his next move, buying anything to make up for what he thinks he did wrong: new snacks; new plushies; new novelty socks from when you loaned him a pair and they got ripped up during a mission; that hoodie of his you’re always complimenting? Yours, you can have it. He doesn’t even like hoodies anyway!

He’s going to show up at your dorm door, apologizing. He doesn’t know exactly what he did so he is going to simply apologize for everything. He really hates fighting with you because he really likes you, and it’s killing him not to have you like him, too.

You end up having to apologize to him and explain that you’re scared to be around him because you have feelings for him and didn’t want to be rejected, that you want to be friends with him even if he doesn’t have those feelings back for you, and you were afraid to lose him as a friend.

It takes him a minute to process everything you said. He’s trying to think of a world where he could ever reject you. You’re so pretty and talented and smart, and you did nothing but occupy his mind over the last couple of weeks and even before then he’d think about you a lot. You’re dazzling.

He explains all that to you so sincerely, with the smallest hint of shy embarrassment as he puts the words together, that it makes you feel stupid for even thinking he’d reject you and not realizing that he could hold the world with the amount of feelings he has for you.

Of course, you accept.

Itadori laughs and shuffles all the items he got for you: he guesses this means he prepared the s/o hoodie too early?

[meazalykov]

friend crush

jule brand x reader

summary: you have a friend crush on the wolfsburg forward, or so you thought

warnings: confession. short chapter. reader figuring out her sexuality after a bit of denial

the first time you meet jule brand, it's at the olympics.

the noise of different countries competing for gold, the sight of athletes from around the world, and the electric energy of the games are all a bit overwhelming, but there's something about jule that catches your attention immediately.

she’s sitting with a few of the other girls, lena and sara, laughing at something sara said, and you can't help but notice the way her eyes light up when she smiles. 

there’s a warmth to her that draws you in, and you find yourself staring longer than you should. 

when she catches your gaze, you quickly look away, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

over the next few days, you keep finding excuses to be near her. it’s not that you’re intentionally trying to, but there’s just something about her that you can’t shake off. 

you convince yourself it’s just a friend crush—after all, she’s kind, funny, and an incredible player. who wouldn’t want to be close to her?

but as the days go by, and the more games germany goes through to reach the gold medal match–the feeling grows stronger. it’s not just her smile or the way she carries herself on the pitch; it’s the way she makes you feel when she’s around. 

you feel a flutter in your chest, a nervous excitement that you’ve never felt before. it’s confusing, and a little bit scary.

one evening, after a particularly intense training session, you’re sitting in your room, scrolling through your phone when sjoeke, your national and club teammate at chelsea, walks in the shared space. 

she gives you a curious look, noticing how distracted you seem.

“hey y/n, everyone is downstairs playing uno or monopoly, what’s going on with you?” she asks in german, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

she understands that the session was tough, but there was a bonding moment happening downstairs for the team. little did you know, jule asked sjoeke to come find you. 

you hesitate for a moment before finally admitting in english,

“i think i have a friend crush on jule, and that's all I've been thinking about outside of the olympic games.” 

sjoeke raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“a friend crush?”

“yeah, you know… when you really want to be friends with someone because they’re just so cool and nice. its just-- I'm not sure if she wants to be friends with me” you explain, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them.

“y/n, are you sure it’s just a friend crush? i’ve never heard of that term before– because the way you’re describing it– and the way you're stressed out about her attention.. it sounds like it might be something more.” sjoeke studies you for a moment before speaking again. 

her words hit you like a ton of bricks. something more? 

the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. 

you’ve never really thought about your sexuality before, never questioned it, but now, with jule in the picture, you’re suddenly not so sure.

“i… i don’t know,” you stammer, the realization making your heart race. 

“i’ve never really… thought about it.”

“it’s okay,” sjoeke says gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder as she realizes that she might’ve forced you into an uncomfortable territory. 

“you don’t have to have it all figured out. come downstairs when you’re ready to be around everyone–”

the days that follow are a whirlwind of emotions, especially after you won bronze with germany. 

you find yourself analyzing every interaction with jule, questioning every feeling that arises. it’s confusing and overwhelming, but there’s also a strange sense of clarity that comes with it. 

you’re starting to accept that maybe, just maybe, your feelings for jule go beyond friendship.

eventually, you can’t keep it to yourself any longer. after the celebration party before everyone goes back to their clubs, you find her sitting alone, cooling down. 

with your heart pounding in your chest, you approach her, your mind racing with what you’re about to say.

“hey, jule,” you start, your voice trembling slightly.

she looks up at you, her eyes soft and inviting. “hey, y/n. what’s up?”

“i’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately… about us. if you don’t like it then please ignore that this even happened— i’ve realized throughout our moments here that i really want to get to know you more. not just as a friend, but… more than that.” you take a deep breath after, trying to steady yourself. 

the silence that follows feels like an eternity, but then jule smiles, a gentle, understanding smile that puts you at ease.

“i’d like that,” she replies, her voice warm and sincere.

you smiled in relief as you sit down beside her. the new journey might be scary but knowing that jule is willing to take that journey with you makes it all a little less scary.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[impossiblesuitcase]

Cinder is jealous. She's jealous of her step-sisters. They have pretty clothes and soft hands and a doting mother. She has none of which. Her sister Peony is her only human friend and even seeing her in a ballgown sparks "envy" in Cinder, because Peony gets a dress and can go to the ball. Cinder can't.

She doesn't believe she could be pretty. She's too clunky, she's not curvy. She pins it down to being cyborg or just naturally inadequate. Cinder doesn't have nice clothes or fancy things. Kai gives her gloves and they are "the most beautiful thing she had ever owned." And then they are ruined, like all the pretty things in her life. She has to survive, endure, and with that she doesn't have time for prettiness.

But Kai's first impression of her is that she's "cute" and "pretty." He calls her pretty in public, and he calls her pretty in his private thoughts. "Your pretty new mechanic in the lobby", "the pretty young mechanic at the market." He finds her gorgeous with her glamour, and his "knees threatened to buckle" in her beauty. Everyone else thought she was gorgeous, but no one was swooning the way he was. The glamour had amplified the attraction he'd already had towards her.

Thorne, upon seeing a cyborg stumble into his jail cell, has the first instinct to flirt with her. Not recoil, because of her metal and skin, but flirt because she's a girl and that's his favourite pastime. And what distinguished her from the many other pretty girls he normally flirted with? To him, "her irritation made her prettier". Her disgruntled personality, who she is, is her prettiness.

Adri tells Cinder that if she can't cry, she can't feel love. She does love, she loves so much, but she doesn't have time to grieve her sister or her anonymity or her freedom when she has a revolution to start. She has to tough it out.

When she's bound up in Kai's arms she feels safe, delicate, "almost like a princess."

Cinder pretends she doesn't have a crush on Kai because having a crush on a celebrity is "preadolescent," the trademark of immature, lovesick teenage girls. How can she be girly when she's a grimy mechanic? She "doesn't know the first thing about makeup", because do you think Adri would have ever let her buy some to try? Would Cinder have even bothered, believing nothing could improve a cyborg?

She dreams of "going to the ball and dancing with the prince." And when Iko teases her, Cinder says, "we all have our weaknesses". It is a weakness to be in love, because someone like Kai couldn't love her. She imagines being at the ball, "jealous of the girls who swooned to catch Prince Kai's attention." Jealous that they can be open with their attraction, jealous that he would pick them over her.

But he loves her. And when he does, she can't process the feeling "of being desired". She wants to carve 'C + K' into a wall, then berates herself for such "whimsy." Because deep down, she's always wanted to be wanted, and that truth is her weakness. But war doesn't last forever, and soon, she has no reason to hide that. There's no reason it would be a weakness.

Cinder is comfortable in baggy cargo pants and messy hair but she also dreams of wearing a beautiful ballgown. She loves her coronation dress. She calls the empress crown 'stunning.'

She never becomes obsessed with frills or glitter, but she slowly leans into soft, pretty things. She has a necklace from Kai and her engagement ring. It's sparkly and yet, Cinder, the so-called 'tough, aloof tomboy' thinks it makes her metal hand look "elegant". Maybe she starts wearing bracelets and earrings because they don't bother her when she isn't working on something mechanical. She doesn't even notice until Thorne jokes that she wears more metal in jewellery than the whole metal of her hand.

Maybe she buys herself a new set of tools with pink and blue iridescent handles simply because finds them pretty. Maybe when her friends tease her about how in love she is, she starts to acknowledge it.

Cinder is not some stereotype of a leading female character who is strong and as such cannot be feminine or soft or emotional. Was she given the chance to be?

Let her be soft. Let her be delicate. Let her pretty.

[teambyler]

Byler wouldn't be "straightbaiting"

When Byler becomes canon, I can already see the accusations:

"We've been straightbaited by this show TWICE!" (Referring to Robin being gay after being a possible love interest for Steve.)

But this isn't about keeping "score" between the gays and the straights. It's about what makes sense for the characters.

Steve thought he and Robin would make a great ROMANTIC COUPLE, but as it turns out not only is she gay but he's also has needed a BEST FRIEND outside the "popular crowd" he's grown out of. (In retrospect, it was also clear that Steve wasn't really into her sexually but liked her as a good friend.) And Robin has needed someone she can come out to and talk to about girls:

Mike and Will, meanwhile, are BEST FRIENDS, but they'll actually become, well, you know...

Mike and Will are the same thing, in reverse. They have all the same nerd interests. But Mike also feels inadequate in his relationship. He needs someone who sees him as a hero. Will has felt the deepest love for Mike after all Mike's done to help him. They give what the other person needs.

"Straightbaiting" would be the show building up a straight romantic couple as something that makes sense for everyone involved, then pulling the rug out from under them to cater to mass-market pressure (which let's be real doesn't exist for LGBT+ couples since most viewers relate more to straight relationships).

Nope! If Byler plays out, it wouldn't be "straightbaiting." It would be be "Mike- and Will-serving."

People who yell "straightbaiting" really just have a problem because Byler would be the first time two MAIN CHARACTERS got in a same-sex relationship with each other, in a show that already has had FIVE heterosexual pairings: Nancy/Steve, Mike/El, Nancy/Jonathan, Lucas/Max, and Joyce/Hopper. They just want straight people to have a monopoly on representation (again).

-teambyler

[maxdibert]

Lila and Lenú are two sides of the same coin.

I often come across criticisms of one or the other, mostly against Lenú, which is understandable because Lenú is not a likable narrator. Lenú is not a narrator who endears herself to the reader. She tells us her story like a personal diary, laying herself bare to share her desires, ambitions, loves, and achievements, but also her insecurities. And Lenú is terribly insecure. She has always had very low self-esteem, and it is this lack of confidence that often leads her to terrible behaviors or even regrettable decisions. But most of all, her constant insecurity throughout her story (and her life) is focused on constantly comparing herself to Lila, which at various points in the saga makes the reader find her heavy and even exasperating, as she is unable to overcome that childhood rivalry even when both are living in completely different worlds.

On the other hand, Lila can also be disliked at times. Lila is selfish, resentful, and unstoppable when she wants to hurt someone—she knows exactly how to do it. Lila is ambitious but hasn't had opportunities, so when they arise, she steps over everyone to seize them. Lila is not fair and sometimes has a very biased view. Lila is toxic and can be truly damaging. But without Lila, there would be no Lenú. And without Lenú, there would be no Lila, because they are the center of each other's worlds, and their absolutely turbulent, poisonous, and codependent friendship is what not only shapes the Neapolitan Novels but is also the constant driving force in their lives.

Lenú is the narrator without natural talent, but with enormous work discipline. She has envied Lila since childhood and feels terribly inadequate next to her because what Lenú achieved through hard work, Lila possessed with natural brilliance. Lila was the brilliant friend, the one who learned to count and read by herself, and who, despite being forced to leave school, would always have the ability to surpass Lenú if she wanted. This is something that haunts Elena throughout her life: the fear of confronting the reality that if Lila had been able to keep studying like her, she would probably have outshone her as she always did in their neighborhood. The ghost of being the second, always one step behind her genius friend—the one who is thinner, prettier, more extroverted, and more charismatic—marks Lenú’s growth process, and its effects are visible even in adulthood. But it is precisely because of this, the fear of being overshadowed by Lila, that Lenú strives to be the best she can be, to reach the highest possible level. Lila is Lenú’s motivation. Lenú, who over the years tries to shake off the dust and grime of her humble origins, to distance herself from that neighborhood full of poverty and violence, to become a self-made intellectual bourgeois woman who wants nothing to do with those uneducated poor savages she grew up with. And yet, she always ends up back in the neighborhood. She cannot escape her own nature, her origins, her blood. She cannot escape Lila.

Lila is the genius, the one who could have been greater than anyone, the girl who was forced to leave school and got married at just 15, thinking she could escape her home but ended up trapped in an even worse hell. She always wanted to leave, see the world, and she was the one who pushed Lenú from childhood to dream and go beyond. And she is the one who ends up abandoning all her dreams, acquiring a cold, raw, and cynical view of life, politics, and social classes. Lila is terribly envious. She envies Lenú because Lenú has the life she always wanted, without realizing that Lenú envies her for having the energy she always longed for. She envies Lenú because Lenú has been able to leave the neighborhood, because she can study, because she has choices. That’s why, when Lenú messes up, Lila always gets angry with her and reproaches her, because if Lenú messes up, then what does Lila have left? Lila is the neighborhood, the origins, the wild, the dark—she is the reminder that no matter how far Lenú goes or how high she climbs, she will always be from the neighborhood. Because you can take the girl out of the neighborhood, but you can’t take the neighborhood out of the girl. Lila is strong and weak at the same time, she is invincible and terribly vulnerable. And this weakness, this vulnerability, she only shows to Lenú. She only fears in front of Lenú, only cries in front of Lenú, only shows herself lost with Lenú. Because Lila, who is visceral, who is from the earth, from the roots, knows deep down that she and Lenú have a connection that goes beyond years and misfortunes. Because Lenú, though she will never know it, is her brilliant friend.

The magic of their relationship is that they are each the brilliant friend to the other, and that makes them both wary of each other, while simultaneously falling into their toxic dynamics again and again. But at the end of the day, they always have each other, even if in a completely dysfunctional and quite messed-up way. I could spend hours and hours talking about them, but I will just say that their relationship is the most incredible I have ever read about two female protagonists. It’s complex, it’s beautiful, it’s horrible at times, exasperating most of the time. It’s treacherous, it’s doomed, it’s stronger than everything, weaker than most. It is, in the end, just like life itself.

[lunarmoonanons]

Fire and Salt chp 14

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN sits at her mother's council

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

YN always enjoyed seeing the map table lit up. Watching the fire below light up the pieces and places like flowing fire enchanted the girl whenever she saw it. YN knew this wasn’t an occasion to enjoy the lit table, but she still admired it nonetheless. YN rested one hand on the table and looked up from it to see her mother walking into the room surrounded by her guards. YN smiled at her mother for a brief moment as her step father announced her to the room of people her mother would call her court. 

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” Daemon announced and everyone followed with a bow to the rightful Queen. “Your Grace.”

YN was in between her two brothers, one hand on the table and the other resting on Luke’s nervous back. She knew he would feel overwhelmed and inadequate at an official meeting of mother’s court so she offered her touch to comfort him. YN looked around the room and saw that her grandmother and Baela stood next to each other. 

Rhaena came up to Rhaenyra and held a cup out to her. “Wine, my queen.” 

Rhaenyra took the cup and thanked the girl, offering her to come up to the table with her, also signaling Baela to come with her to seat at the table. There was an air of silence in the room as everyone looked to Rhaenyra to do something. YN watched her mother with questioning eyes and wondered what she was to do first. YN wanted to call out for an attack on Kings Landing, they had the greater dragons, save for Vhagar, and the more support for the queen. YN knew what the common folk thought of her mother. What they thought of her. Many wanted YN to be heir instead of Jace but she stood firm in her decision to place Jace on the throne. 

“What is our standing?” Her mother started. 

“We have 30 knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms,” Daemon explained. “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers.” 

“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon,” The Maester spoke. 

“My lady mother was an Arryn,” Rhaenyra spoke up. “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

“River run was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace. With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

That did not seem to sate Rhaenyra, YN swallowed her tongue at what she wanted to say about their position and what she thought they should do. Knowing her anger and want to burn Kings Landing was mostly from her anger at Aemond’s betrayal of her once again. 

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war,” Rhaenyra said. 

“I’m going to treat with him myself.” Daemon explained. 

Steffon Darklyn spoke up next, “What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” 

“There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. And as I hear it he has sent a betrothal request to Princess YN. If she accepts we have a stronger claim with them beyond us,” Bartimos spoke, looking at YN who stared at her mother. “And with House Stark the North will follow.”

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father’s promises,” Rhaenyra explained. Watching as one man placed a figure on the table then as YN handed Jace a figure for him to place on Duskendale. She then turned behind her to look at Rhaenys. “What news from Driftmark?” 

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” Rhaenys spoke up for the first time. 

“To declare for his Queen.” Daemon loudly said. 

“The Velaryon fleet is in my husband’s yoke,” Rhaenys explained. “He decides where they sail.”

“We shall pray for both you and your husband’s support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There’s no port on the Narrow Sea would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet,” Rhaenyra said before turning back to the table. “And our enemies?”

“We have no friends among the Lannisters. Thailand served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.” YN watched her mother’s expression as she listened to Daemon . 

“Without the Lannisters, we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth,” Rhaenyra responded. 

“No,” Daemon paused for a moment. “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.”

There was a pause in the room, YN wanted to speak about the common folk, how she could rally them against the greens and take Kings Landing back. She knew many of the small folk looked to YN for many things and many would do anything for the Princess. But she held her tongue. There were not many on the court who thought of the small folk and did not see their value. But YN did and when she had the time she would tell her mother that she could rally them for her. 

“Pray forgiveness for my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.” One spoke up making the room think of the power of the dragons. 

“The greens have Dragons,” Rhaenyra explained but she was cut off by Daemon. 

“They have three adults by my count. We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your sons and daughter have SeaSmoke, Vermax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer.” Daemon listed. 

“Daemmon, none of our dragons have been to war.” Rhaenyra countered. 

“There are also unclaimed dragons. Verminthos and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless,” Daemon continued. “Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

“And who is to ride them?” Rhaenyra asked. YN looked behind Rhaenyra and noticed someone coming in. She wondered what could be needed now. 

“Dragonstone has 13 to their 4. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont,” Daemon said, then walking around the table. “Now… we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host. Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround Kings Landing with the dragons. And we could have every green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.” 

YN never usually agreed with Daemon but she was pleased to hear what she wanted. She wanted to surround Kings Landing call the smallfolk to rally against the greens, have place each of their traitor heads on spikes. 

“Your Grace…” Ser Erryk came back in. “A ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon flying the banner of a three headed green dragon.”

“Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies.” Daemon demanded and grabbed his sword. 

YN saw her mother leave the room with Daemon. She knew the greens were sending someone to demand her mother and them all bend the knee to Aegon. She would never, not for anyone. Lucerys turned to YN, but she never betrayed a look of worry. She merely brought a hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb up and down. She knew her family would call to war and they needed all the allies they could get. So she made up her mind as she looked in Luke’s eyes that she would send a raven to Cregan Stark and accept his proposal. 

~~~

When her mother returned, YN had already sent the raven to Lord Stark. She now waited for the right time to tell her mother. Now she stood near her mother as they discussed the terms the greens had sent. Her mother declaring she would not rule over a kingdom of ash and bone. No matter how many times Daemon had said they had the greater number of dragons. 

“My father’s dead. And he chose me as his successor, to defend the realm not cast it headlong into war.” Rhaenyra said, countering Daemon’s claim. 

“Well, the enemy have declared war. What are you gonna do about it?” Daemon demanded. 

“Clear the room.” Her mother ordered. YN looked to her mother with questioning eyes. Rhaenyra gave her hand a squeeze before whispering for her to leave, that it would be alright. 

Rhaenys came up to her granddaughter and guided her out of the room. YN spared one last look at her mother before leaving. She knew her mother and Daemon would have this fight. Her mother was not as hot headed as Daemon, and not as blood hungry for war. 

YN did not want to seem blood hungry. She did not want the smallfolk to suffer a war caused by them. But she was so angry. She wanted revenge for this slight against her mother, for the betrayal of Aemond once again. Her friend, the one whom she still cared about no matter how angry she got with him betrayed her. He was planning on usurping the throne. And he had the nerve to pretend he wanted her. Maybe he did but she was not someone you crossed. YN spared a look to her grandmother before walking toward her brothers.

[comfortless]

He definitely has a complex about being considered middle aged. Me personally, I see him as one of those guys that tell you they're a couple of years younger than they actually are, in the beginning, cause be feels too old for someone younger and (in his mind) 'cooler' than him.

I feel like joining the army at such a young age must've made him feel like an adult way too soon, and maybe back then he must've felt superior like 'All the people my age only care about love and having fun, I'm way too mature for those silly things'. (Could be a copping mechanism to deal with the fact that he wasn't getting love anyway, and wasn't included in all the fun his peers were having. Rejecting those things altogether are a way to take back control and make himself feel better, he's too busy becoming a real man anyway). But now that he's older he does feel like he missed out on things, and regrets not being a silly teenager when it was acceptable and expected at that age.

He makes me think of that one Yves Olade quote that goes like "I thought so many things & never said a single one aloud. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out. Yes, desire is so different when God bore you hungry. I could have devoured anything and still have been starving." When you get no love from your parents is one thing (still hurts) but when you get cast out in other social circles also, it makes you feel bitter like nothing else on this earth. It creates this feeling that you're the one that it's being inadequate for even daring to want connections to other people and you begin to resent people and yourself for wanting to be around them. There's this shame that settles on top of your chest when you want love but you feel like that's the cause of all your suffering in the first place, like you're doing it to yourself. This reminds me of another quote : "in front of my mother and my sisters, i pretend love is cheap and vulgar. i act like it's a sin- i pretend that love is for women on a dark path. but at night i dream of a love so heavy it makes my spine throb- i dream up a lover who makes love like he is separating salt from water." (Salma Deera, "salt"). I feel like this might apply to younger Konig, when convinced himself that love is for weak man to protect his poor heart. But now that he's older and has the money, the position and the body of a real man he needs to get a taste (just a small one, just once) of what he had missed out on in his youth. He finally feels deserving enough to attempt to have real intimacy with someone, not just quick hookups that leave him more hungry.

FEEL FREE TO NOT ANSWER THIS I'm just in a silly mood and had to psychoanalyse my babygirl real quick. Also, sorry for my English =))

how could i possibly just leave this in my inbox, anon?! this is all so correct…

thank god he wears that hood, because even on the field the sun isn’t hitting him too much - (he thinks) he can pass for early thirties. not that any lady who takes an interest in him is really considering his age much anyway, it’s always the shy “how tall did you say you were, again?”s or “what is your real name?”s that are telltale signs of interest. they ogle his build, the accomplishments he will prattle on about given the chance, the haunted look in his eyes and the strange lilt to his voice, the scars and lines only make him look cooler. if only that wasn’t such a rare treat.

he’s just in his head about things always. he missed out on the sweet, awkward dates: the mutual rush of adrenaline from holding someone’s hand for the first time, sneaky pecks in the schoolyard, passing notes and calling throughout the night. he never got to experience having his parents drop him off at the theater to take some girl from class out or… hell, even getting to go with a friend who wasn’t gossiping behind his back. König’s never gotten to live like any other, normal person, he’s been denied that since being birthed into a world that did not want him as much as he did not want it.

so, of course he’s bitter. he’s horribly bitter even now when things have finally started to fall into place for him. he’s got a stature even Adonis would be nervous around, a savings account so stocked he isn’t even sure what to do with the money, an impressive title, his own place, a car, and some of the soldiers even consider him a friend. he gets invited out every now and then, doesn’t mind downing jäger and listening to his men talk about their current affairs: what women they’re seeing, or how their children are, where they plan to go on leave. he takes to living vicariously through them. he even finds it fit to lie, pulls up a picture of some random woman every now and then to boast about how he made her come undone on his bed last leave with a stupid laugh. the truth is that no, last leave he bought a nice fleshlight, took a thirteen hour depression nap, maybe went on a long hike and had a film marathon on his own.

having a woman show him any interest immediately activates some self-destructive behavior: he’ll hound her (screw double texting, it’s moreso in the dozens. little “miss you”s and stupid accusations he immediately wishes he hadn’t sent), either withdraw into himself if he even feels slightly abandoned or become even more intense and clingy. no one’s ever loved him, not properly, so how is he supposed to know how? if his own parents hated him, then who is going to have the patience and understanding to teach him? his approaches are almost childish, the way he goes from boyish and giddy to closed off and pitiful. /: and the self-loathing only amplifies during these times, because my god he should be more disciplined than this by now. all that being said, i do think he would settle and be as well-behaved as a neglected bull could be if he feels his affection is being reciprocated. he just needs time (and a good therapist).

squealing at the poetry and how much thought you’ve put into this message. <3

Yves Olade is sooo good to quote from for him! i think that “You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it. Kiss me hard enough to invert me.” suits him just as well, especially when it comes to the trepidation and fear amidst the sparks of him finally, truly having someone be selfless and loving with him.

König in love is a very special topic to me!! there are so many different ways this rabid dog could take to handling it and by and by he always seems to choose the most aggressive / uncanny approach, held back by a leash that no one’s ever thought to untie, constantly growling and leaping at anything that gets too close just to simmer down to whimpering and begging the second he’s pet just once!!

[madman479r]

Jaune: **In the Evernight castle, tied up in chair** You honestly think I'll talk? I'm already messed up in the head so psychological torture won't work, my aura basically makes me a tank and I get more joy out of denying you anything.

Cinder: **sitting across from him** Oh, you'll talk, but for now we wait for Salem.

**Salem walks into the room and wearing... glasses? With a clipboard in hand?**

Salem: Ah, I see we're ready to begin your first session. **Sits on chair**

Jaune: Session? What kind of session? The hell are you talking about?

Cinder: Wow. You're going to act like it's not a big deal? You worthless thankless ingrate! I can't believe i-!

Salem: Alright, let's calm it down. Take a deep breath... *inhales through nose* Good. Now Cinder, let's address the issue.

Cinder: The issue? The issue is that I spend days, weeks, months devising my nefarious plans, kill the people whose deaths would have the most psychological impact on him and what does he do? He goes and gets himself a new archnemesis !

Jaune: New archnemesis? What the fuck are you-

Salem: Mr. Arc, please, this is Cinder's turn. Now, how did that make you feel, Cinder?

Cinder: ...It made me feel hurt. It made me feel inadequate. Like I'm not bad enough, especially when I get replaced by some fairy tale cat.

Jaune: ...You gotta be fucking kidding me. The Curious Cat? That is what this is all about?!

Cinder: Hmph, seems like you still remember his name.

Jaune: I spent 20 years being mentally battered by that bastard cat, of course I'm gonna remember his fucking name!

Cinder: Oh? Only mentally? I attack you mentally, also emotionally and physically yet he just has to gaslight you a bit and he's your new archnemesis?! See? This is what I'm talking about!

Jaune: We literally fought one another as soon as we saw each other. You saw Ruby first and headed straight for me. It was literally on sight.

Cinder: Yeah, well, I bet you would have fought the Cat instead if he were there!

Jaune: Oh, for fu-

Salem: Alright , let's not get too off topic. Jaune, tell us: How was it that the Curious Cat became a person of intimate hatred in your eyes?

Jaune: I spent years in the Ever After and that little shit pretended to be my friend and guide, but in reality only wanted me for my body. He had me tell him my story and tried to gaslight me into remembering events and people differently to make me lose my mind. It got worse after Alyx-

Cinder: Oh, so now there's another girl involved?!

Salem: Cinder, please, this is Jaune's turn.

Cinder: But all that cat did was practically inconvenience Jaune compared to what I did to him!

Jaune: You know, Cardin wasn't like this when you came along.

Cinder: Oh! ...So that's what this is now, huh?

Salem: Now, Cinder. Nobody is saying you aren't Jaune's archnemesis anymore.

Cinder: No! I want to hear it from him!

Jaune:...

[rebeliz7]

NAIVE

Wanda Maximoff x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 3837

Warnings: Betrayal

Thank you Van (aka @missmonsters2) for helping me by editing this, way back in the day LOL. 

…

It starts with a light-hearted comment from Bucky. 

He and Wanda formed a tight friendship at some point after he was found. He's always been thoughtful and quiet in a way that Wanda found comforting. They were good at sitting in silence and coexisting without being alone, and sometimes that was all they needed. 

You were a friend, not as close as Bucky but equally supportive and protective. You've never spoken about it, but Wanda knew that she could count on you whenever she needed you, and you have yet to let her down. 

"Right?" Bucky asks, the grin on his lips suggesting he already knows the answer to his own question. Wanda swallows thickly, her eyes catching yours across the gym fleetingly. 

You look away quickly, though, something Steve says catches your attention and makes you laugh. 

"She's cute," she shrugs, and although Bucky decides to focus on something else, the strange feeling in her stomach remains for the rest of the day. 

…

She starts seeing you in a different light. Maybe it's Bucky's comment that made her very aware of your smile, but she's suddenly enamored by it and the sound of your laughter. 

"Hey, Wands, want some ice cream?" You ask her as she approaches the dining table, where Natasha and Kate are also sitting. 

"Sure." She smiles, hands in the back pockets of her jeans and feeling more than a little vulnerable. 

It takes her a hot second to recognize that she's nervous--nervous about being close to you or talking to you. 

"Take a seat, babes. How was your day?" You smile, scooping some ice cream and offering her a small bowl with a tiny spoon. 

The gesture is friendly, but she still feels special under your momentary attention. 

"It was fine." She says, more focused on the color of your eyes and the smile on your lips than the ice cream itself. 

"That's good." You tell her, and she doesn't know what to say to keep the conversation going--so she says nothing at all. 

You go back to talk to Natasha, and Kate wastes no time in butting in, and Wanda's just there. She doesn't feel exactly out of place, but she does feel a tad inadequate. 

She should be talking too, you're all friends, and she's always gotten along well with Kate and Nat. But the sound of your voice and the distracting way in which you smile continue to throw her. 

…

She notices you more and more. It's innocent at first. You're beautiful, and everyone in the Compound seems to have a crush on you, so she's not entirely put off by her growing interest. You're a nice person; everyone knows it. 

"What about you, Miss Y/LN?" Sam asks during a friendly game of poker. 

Steve and Tony have been implementing two or three activities every week, a way to get to know each other better. So far, there have been movie nights, hiking, camping, and now it's poker.

Friendship is important in a team such as ours, Steve's always saying, and Wanda is inclined to agree with him. 

"Don't start with me, Sam." You warn him with an amused grin on your lips that Wanda inexplicably wants to kiss. 

She looks away quickly, the thought having startled her a little. Where did that come from?

"You're bluffing." Sam calls you out, and Natasha laughs, her own poker face falling as she sets her cards on the table. She folds. 

"She's bluffing, right?" Sam asks her, making Wanda look at you again. 

You're keeping your cards close to your chest now, a single eyebrow raised in her direction. Wanda's stomach sinks. You're so beautiful, and she's entirely stricken by the realization as if it were the first time she's noticing. 

"I have no idea." She says, and you wink at her as if there was a hidden joke between the two of you, and she feels special. 

"Girl's whipped." Sam laughs, and that catches her attention. 

"What?" She asks as Natasha smiles in her direction. "I'm not whipped."

Tony makes a whip lashing sound, and everyone laughs, making Wanda blush where she sits. 

"Natasha is too." Steve says with a boyish grin. 

"So are you." She tells him with a pointed look, and his eyes instantly meet yours across the round table. 

You pay them no mind. Wanda is almost convinced that you're not even aware that they're talking about you, or you're simply not interested in giving this conversation any attention. 

"Stop stalling, pretty boy." You tell Sam, and he hums to himself, his eyes taking you in before he sighs and drops his cards. 

"I'm out." He says, and you smile. Everyone else claps their hands, Natasha squeezes your shoulders, and Wanda claps too, completely distracted. 

"Bluffing, you say?" You taunt him before showing your hand. 

"A royal flush, of course," Tony says with only a little bit of jealousy in his tone. He was the first to fold, and you continue to be the solid poker queen. No one's ever beaten you. 

"You've got to be kidding me!" Sam picks up your cards as you swipe all the chips with a pretty smile on your face. 

The night progresses as it usually does. Beers are being passed, jokes being told, there's a lot of laughter, and Wanda enjoys herself to an extent. There's a part of her brain that continues to remind her that she wanted to kiss you earlier, though.

But you're just--you're just you. Everyone tries to gain your attention or sit close to you. Everyone tries to please you in some capacity, including her. 

It's more than your looks, what has them all falling over their feet, more than the pretty smile you always have for everyone. It's everything that you are. 

You're smart in a way that always leaves Wanda speechless. You're clever and articulate, even when you're upset. You always find the right words to speak without hurting anyone's feelings but getting your point across all the same. You're open; there's an inviting quality about you that makes the team want to be your closest friend. 

But then, of course, you're also incredibly beautiful, so much so that compliments are always raining your way. 

"You doing okay?" You ask her, sitting next to her on the large couch, while Natasha attempts to show Bucky how to properly hold a ballet pose. 

Everyone's laughing, and she's suddenly very aware of her silence--since she can't think of a single coherent thing to say to you.

"Yeah." She nods her head, nervously glancing your way and her stupid brain reminding her that she wanted to kiss you earlier again. "You?"

"I'm quite well. Take a look—Sam's already about to fall asleep." You point towards the next couch, where Sam is dozing off, and Wanda laughs awkwardly. 

"Still a lightweight." She comments as you sip your beer, the same one you've been holding the entire night she's noticed. 

"You'd think being in the army and all that testosterone would teach a guy how to hold his liquor, but nope." You laugh, and she's once again taken by how beautiful you are. 

"Yeah." She tries to laugh, following your joke, but all she can think about is how nice you look in white. The shirt you have on is loose and definitely something you wear to sleep, but the color makes your skin glow in a way that she finds absolutely gorgeous. 

"Y/N, please come collect your kids." Tony calls you, and you roll your eyes as you give Wanda a look. 

She can do nothing but smile at your reaction, and you squeeze her knee before you stand up. 

"What's going on?" You ask Bucky, and he takes a step back from Natasha. Natasha moves lithely towards you and wraps her arms around your waist as if looking for protection from the big bad Winter Soldier. 

"She's mean. She's a mean drunk." Bucky says, pointing at Natasha. You push Natasha away from you a tad, if only to look into her eyes. Natasha's not drunk, though—she never gets drunk. 

"We agreed." You remind her while Wanda looks closely at the interaction. 

"I know, I'm sorry." Natasha deflects, and you turn to Bucky, a serious look on your face. 

"Fine, I'm sorry too. We'll behave." He says, and Tony laughs, as does Pepper. You have them, metaphorically, eating out of your hand. 

"Whipped," Pepper says, and Tony makes the same whip lashing sound right after. 

"Uh uh." Natasha shakes her finger at Bucky, her free arm going around your waist again. "I'm not into sharing."

You laugh, and Natasha does too. It's a joke, but the phrase doesn't sit too well with Wanda. 

Are you dating Natasha? 

…

The question stays with her for good—the thought of you too. 

It's like one day she wakes up and finds herself infected with you. You're the first thing she thinks in the morning, and once you're in her brain, you're there to stay. 

She goes about her daily routine and can't help but wonder if you're already up and what you're doing. She goes to the gym and can't help but wonder if she'll see you there. 

When you're not there, she can't help but feel a little disappointed. But her day moves quickly, as does everyone's in the Compound. There's training, meetings, debriefings, and more training. 

She feels exhausted by the end of the day and craves a shower more than she craves air itself. No one said being a hero wouldn't be hard after all. 

She's on her way to her room when someone calls her name, and her stomach instantly drops. The sound of your voice hits her in the pit of her stomach; it's a sensation she's never felt before and one that makes her feel nervous and awkward to an extent. 

"Want some pizza, Wands?" You ask with a smile on your lips and a slice of pizza in your hand. 

"I was gonna go take a shower. I'm feeling kind of gross." She says with an embarrassed smile, but you're already walking closer to her. 

"By the time you come back, there'll be no pizza left. Plus, you look fantastic!" You tell her, handing her the slice you're holding, and she takes it with a blush on her cheeks that she hopes you don't notice. 

"Thank you." She says, and you bump her shoulder in a friendly way, and she feels--well, she feels special. 

"Come on. I ordered some wings too, I know you love them. I'll share with my ladies."

You walk with her back to the kitchen, but by the time you both get there, the entire pizza is gone. The boys are happily chewing while Natasha and Kate watch the scene with a grimace. 

"Ladies, follow me." You announce as you walk behind the counter and pull out a take-out container from one of the lower drawers. 

"Life saver." Kate touches her chest before she leans forward to kiss your cheek, and Wanda takes a seat in silence. 

"These are my favorites," Natasha comments as she goes for a wing, and you do too. 

Wanda watches you take a bite, and she has to look away when the feeling in her stomach makes her feel so uncomfortable that she can barely stand it. 

"I know they are, hon," You tell Natasha while picking up a napkin and cleaning her chin, where a little bit of sauce has spilled. 

"Thank you," Natasha replies, winking in your direction, and Wanda's stomach sinks again for the reason that she refuses to overthink.

Not that her brain listens.  

…

You're the first thing she thinks about when she wakes up now, and it becomes an unconscious habit of sorts. The thought of you comes to her mind effortlessly, as easy as breathing and it always comes accompanied by the weird feeling in her stomach that makes her feel as if she can't breathe.

It's just a crush, she tells herself. You're definitely crushing material, and there's nothing wrong with her feeling this way. 

It's a crush, and it'll go away. 

…

The crush does the exact opposite of going away. 

You're everything she can think about, and she has no idea of how to get closer to you. 

It all changes one night, though. 

She can't sleep, and she decides to go for a walk, the Compound is big enough, and she's done it before. She's walked through every corner of it; she's come to know every hidden ladder that leads to the roof and Tony's secret wine cellar. 

But tonight, something's different, not that she can put her finger on what that is exactly. She takes the stairs down to the first floor, and the silence is what tips her off. 

As she walks through the main lobby, she realizes that Friday hasn't said a single word to her since she left her bedroom. Usually, Friday would be asking her questions by now, keeping her company.

Suddenly on high alert, she rounds the corner to the main security area, and she sees you. 

All the red alarms in her head are quickly replaced by that same feeling in her gut and chest. You're talking amicably with the tech guy that oversees the security systems overnight. 

You see her, and she comes to a halt in the middle of the wide-open lobby. You smile, and she feels like melting right where she stands. 

"Wands." You smile, walking towards her quickly. "What are you doing up? It's so late."

You're wearing combat boots and skinny jeans, a black top, and an open denim jacket--a look that she's never seen you wear before. She's certain that she's never seen you wear that top. 

"I was just--walking." She tells you, and you reach out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Your fingers graze her skin, making her shiver, and you notice. 

Of course, you notice, just like you've noticed every other single reaction she has towards you. 

"You mind if I join you?" You ask her, and she can barely breathe. 

She can't answer verbally, so she nods, and you caress her cheek with the back of your fingers as you pull back your hand. A subtle action that can definitely be taken as friendly. After all, you don't want to scare her, or worse, tip her off. 

"Are you cold?" You ask her after noticing she's only wearing an oversized shirt. 

She's still trying to get her breathing back to normal, the ghost of your touch still lingering on her cheek and preventing her from thinking straight. 

"I'm fine." She tells you after catching the look on your face and remembering that you asked her a question. 

"Here." You stop walking and take off your denim jacket. 

"It's okay, really." She tries to intervene when you move to drape the jacket on her shoulders. 

"I insist." You tell her with a smile that quite literally steals her breath away. "Denim suits you, Miss Maximoff."

You fix the collar of your jacket close to her chest, smiling as she blushes right before you. You're cute and beautiful, so beautiful that she can barely think, let alone speak. 

It's ridiculous! You shouldn't have this much power over her. You two aren't even that close, but the more she looks at you, the more her brain shouts things that she's never thought about before. 

She wants you happy. She wants to see you smiling. She'd like to know everything about you, everything that you're willing to share; she wants to know it. She'd like to go wherever you go, and she'd like to see the world from your perspective. 

You're still smiling as you admire your jacket on her, and she tilts her head to the side in a sign of endearment. You're so cute, and she can't stop staring. 

She'd never hurt you. She only ever wants to love you and take care of you. She doesn't know you that well, but she wants to, but the universe, it seems, is not giving her an option.

If you give her a chance, she'd make sure that you never regret it. 

"You okay there?" You ask her after a beat, and she swallows with difficulty. Her face burns with embarrassment, and she nods her head quickly. "How about that walk?"

You smile and offer your arm for her to take, and she nervously does. 

It's not long before you're telling her about your time as a rookie in S.H.I.E.L.D. and Melinda May kicking your ass daily as your S.O. She finds your journey so interesting that by the end of the walk, she knows the names of most of your friends at S.H.I.E.L.D.

That's the first night she sleeps with your jacket on. 

…

You begin to spend more time with her. She refuses to ask if you're dating Natasha, especially after you both act like a married couple.

She doesn't ask because the thought of you with someone else--guts her. If you were to tell her that you and Natasha are an item, she knows the feeling that would take over her--she knows the feeling all too well. 

And maybe she's being naive. Maybe the more time she spends with you, she's just opening herself up to more inevitable heartbreak. Whatever the reason, she doesn't want to cut the time the two of you have finally begun to spend together short. 

It doesn't matter anyway because even after Natasha joins whatever conversation you're having, you still make sure to stay by Wanda's side, and she feels, well, she feels special. 

…

The late-night walks become a regular thing. Wanda would meet you in the lobby, where you'd wait for her with a smile that seems to be reserved only for her. 

There are many times when she's almost told you everything she feels for you, but something always holds her back. She's afraid to lose you, and she doesn't want to gamble with your friendship. 

… 

You kiss her one night. One second she's greeting you in the empty lobby, and the next, you're kissing her. 

She loses her breath, her entire body tensed, and for a moment, she feels like she's freefalling. But she opens her eyes and finds your gentle stare on her, waiting for a verdict as if you'd done something wrong. 

"But Natasha?" Is the first thing out of her mouth, and you place your hands on her waist, pulling her a little bit closer to you. 

"She's just a friend." You tell her, and she chuckles, the smile on her lips threatens to split her face in two, and you think she might be the most beautiful woman you've ever gotten to kiss. 

She's certainly the most beautiful target. No doubt about it. 

…

She's in love with you, so much so that she's completely blind to things that you know she's been trained to see. 

…

Tony believes they've been infiltrated. Recently he's found a code on Friday that he's certain he didn't write himself. 

Everyone is on high alert, but things go on as they usually do. Tony rewrites the coding, and Wanda continues to fall for you. 

You take her out on dates, and Natasha keeps her distance, though she does glare playfully at Wanda from time to time. Now Wanda laughs at her antics, reassured by the way you're always touching her in some capacity. 

She becomes increasingly addicted to the way your hand finds a home in her lower back whenever you're close enough and the way your slender fingers move to delicately fill in the gaps between her own. She becomes a junky for your sweet kisses and the way your hands sneakily touch her bare skin under every shirt that she wears. 

You always look at her adoringly and chuckle before running your nose across her cheek as you kiss her face. She'd wrap her arms around you then and giggle at having you happy, which is all she ever wanted. 

Your late-night walks become a habit that always ends in her bedroom with her under you, moaning and groaning your name over and over again like a breathless prayer meant only for your ears. 

Each day that passes by gives her something else to fall for you, and she collects these moments, these aspects of your personality, like a treasure. She's never felt as safe as she does when she's with you. She's never loved as fiercely. 

"You trust me?" You ask her one night when you're knuckle deep in her, and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth. 

"Yes," she moans as you brush your thumb over her clit and her nails dig a little deeper on your shoulders. 

"You love me?" You ask her, adding pressure on her clit and sinking your fingers a little deeper. She yelps, her stomach tightening and her throat running dry. 

"Yes," she gasps as she pulls you down and kisses you a little bit desperately. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that she's being too vulnerable, but she still feels safe with you. 

"You sure you trust me?" You ask her again, and the look in your eyes has an earth-shattering effect on her; it always does. 

She comes around your fingers with a strangled gasp of your name, and you kiss her lips one last time before you bend to pick up your phone from her nightstand. 

She's still catching her breath when you return to her side with a little pill between your fingers. 

"What's that?" She asks as you twirl the pill, and she scoots closer to you. Her lips kiss your face, her hands pull you closer. 

"I love you too, you know." You tell her, and she hides her face in the pillows, laughing and blushing, and you think she's the most beautiful woman you've ever slept with. 

The most beautiful target you've ever gotten. 

"Take this." You offer her the pill, and she looks at you with a little apprehension. 

"But what is it?" She asks. 

"You said you trust me." You remind her. 

"I do." She nods as you roll on top of her. 

For such a powerful being, she's still just a girl staring into the eyes of the first person she's ever loved like this. 

"Show me." You tell her.

… 

Leaving the Compound with Wanda in the middle of the night proves to be by far the easiest part of your entire mission. But pretending to look for her when you return? That is by far the hardest thing you've had to do when you know exactly where she is and who asked you to get her.

Eric assured you she'd be safe, and you know better than to question Magneto himself. She's no longer your concern.  

… 

[calciumdeficientt]

what do you think context was behind justin's dialogue "derby told me last night i was his best friend"

Ohhhhhhh I’ve been ruminating on this ever since i listened to all the quote videos (please dont ask me why i did that i really really dont know) i pride myself on being somewhat of a stickler for the most inane and pointless background stuff.

Today i plan to answer the question:

WHY THE HELL DID DERBY SAY THAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

The easy answer here would be to say that Derby was drunk, and simply feeling very loving(that sentence feels so insane to me for some reason).

Harrington house feels very much to me the hotspot for “gatherings” of the bullworth’s brightest, best and most sickeningly rich. The little guest list on the desk as you enter, as well as Bif on the door in the weed killer mission, and obviously the general worldview of the preps points towards a general pickiness to guests, likely not accepting anyone by on their own social circle. Another key background factor to consider is the little bar that derby cowers behind in Glass Jaw during his bossfight and also the bar in the beach house, leading me to believe that the events hosted at Harrington house are usually organised with the intention of drinking copious amounts of excessively strong and exceedingly expensive alcohol.

There’s bound to be a few contentious objectors to drinking, at least excessively, on school grounds and on school nights and i think the ever-pining proto-jock Justin probably doesn’t partake as much as Derby “I’m too rich to bother attending class” Harrington. All this to say, Justin was 110% more sober and therefore 110% more receptive to derby’s drunk babblings than any other partygoer, prep or otherwise.

In my mind, Derby Harrington, despite having everything he could ever conceivably want at the snap of his fingers, is one of the loneliest students at bullworth academy. He mentions being beaten by his father for fraternising with a nanny, and shows a general disdain for his betrothed, pinky, by not even bothering to show up for their dates. He cannot truly get close to anyone because of his position as an heir to a pretty substantial oil empire. Great care is needed to avoid being sliced right out of the will and being condemned to hush money by his father. Bif is great, but he’s not all that much emotionally, at least not in derby’s mind anyway. He’s far far beneath Derby, that’s made abundantly clear when Bif loses his boxing match to Jimmy; he’s sneered at with the kind of vitriole that can only come from someone who views himself as king of his own private universe. Justin is in the same boat just presumably with a lot less petty cash at his disposal. He’s a weird ass bitch who’s so incredibly desperate to expand his social circle into the Jocks’ because he feels somewhat inadequate in his own. To use his verbage, he’s a peon in the prep hierarchy. He’s weak and scrawny and of little use in the stature department, at least not when compared to Bif anyway.

This night, Derby is drunk out of his mind, as usual, and Justin is beside him, a little buzzed but not enough to put him off his studies for the next day. They are sat on opposite ends of a chaise longue in the drawing room. Well… Justin is sat, Derby is more slumped, folded over the armrest in a way that does not look comfortable in the slightest. He’s telling a story from a recent trip to Europe, about a girl he met in a city that his drunk brain just can’t seem to decide on the pronunciation of, gulping scotch out of a crystal glass like its going out of fashion. Justin is listening actively, trying to piece the story together amongst the many asides derby seems to be wandering off into. That’s when the bomb drops “know, i like to think you’re my best friend here Justin” “what?” “You heard me….. anyway this damn woman”

Safe to say it was the best night of Justin Vandervelde’s life.

[elderwisp]

lore drop: the au

♡ so i tried to keep some core characteristics of each oc. for atlas, i decided to keep his curiosity and his struggles with feeling inadequate. for taryn, it's her patience but that manifests more into endurance, as well as her struggles with vulnerability. as for rowan, his need for support as well as his generally care-free attitude. really the biggest change was their environments!

♡ a lot of the issues in tessellate that atlas in regards to his state of being (lol) begins in his youth and the people surrounding it. atlas struggled in school in regards to focusing and a lot of the times would be met with unsupportive people so in a way escapism has always been a method of coping with that feeling of inadequacy. we'll dive into how that entire process shapes up HOWEVER ! in this au, atlas swaps with taryn in the sense that atlas has much more supportive parents who get him the help he needs rather than growing frustrated. he tries his best with schooling, even getting a degree in animation, but ! he still hasn't quite found a career in the thing he went to school for. here's a little blurb on that:

"I always hated this place. A constant reminder of everything I lacked. I shouldn’t be so crude towards the bookstore, my colleagues were wonderful and the managers never gave me any issues. The problem was me. The pings of jealousy deep in my gut whenever someone was promoted or a farewell party for coworkers moving onto bigger and better things. Yet here I was, five years later. A washed up artist and a part time bookstore clerk. My parents were kind enough to allow me to live at home but it’s all a bit embarrassing. Being twenty three and without a home or a career was definitely not how I envisioned the pinnacle of my adulthood."

♡ meanwhile, taryn's youth is much more turbulent. (i would say a tad bit worse than atlas's.) taryn's struggle with vulnerability stems from her surroundings. while in canon and the au, she went to catholic school, however one change was she fell for a girl who sets her up for humiliation. her parents, already having prior issues with taryn take this as the final straw and basically stonewall taryn into oblivion. kai, still being gay, also shuts taryn out out of the fear of what could happen to him and it's just really heartbreaking. ok so, backtracking a bit, rowan happens to be there at this very humiliating moment and is the only one to actually intervene. the two eventually become best friends, working really well with each other's personalities. rowan's thing that he needs from another person is full support, meanwhile taryn is incredibly accepting to those in her very small circle of... one person. LMAO! so the two really open up like a flower to one another

♡ their dynamic starts to shift when taryn is kicked out of her home on her eighteenth birthday, here's a wip of that:

He wiped the dirt and the blood off my face reminding me that I was more than the monsters that had made me. I couldn’t meet his eyes because I didn’t believe him. Was there something truly wrong with me?  “Look at me.” One firm tug at my chin to grab my attention but I was unmovable, “You are going to be better than them.” He said it with such conviction that I finally began to cry. After years of abuse by my peers, the blatant avoidance of my parents and brother, it had all come to the surface. I’ll admit, I was incredibly embarrassed crying in front of Rowan, that was something I never wanted anyone to see because vulnerability had been a weapon. There was a moment of fear once I had realized he’d seen me. What if he used it against me? Everyone else had. Instead he held me close and set me free of the pain I endured. That night, I couldn’t sleep. 

♡ the two eventually get an apartment in the city together. rowan being a nepo baby (lmao sorry bro) who sells his artwork while taryn is able to write freely and publish a lot of poetry and uh, erotica! pop off! rowan encouraged her to not work and put her focus into her books, he genuinely wants the best for her after the shitshow of a life she's had. ((in his mind though, he can't differentiate that he might actually adore this woman.)) that support did pay off though because taryn's work does really well. the whole place is mostly decorated by taryn but the kitchen is the one place that rowan really added his own little flair. you see, the boy loves to cook meals as a hobby and is quite good at it. it's one of those things where he also gets a bit of an ego boost but he's not gonna tell you that. when the two don't have company over... usually one will sneak into the other's room to sleep in it. the last time the two actually slept alone would probably be well over a year,, hmm

♡ so the final lore drop is how the freak does atlas fit into this? it's complicated in the beginning. taryn is quite fascinated with atlas and he is incredibly curious about her. her supportive demeanor makes him feel like he can do anything while atlas's ability to be in tune with his emotions, say how he feels, is refreshing to taryn. when rowan meets atlas, he believes that this dude might actually be capable of captivating taryn that she'd consider being with him and potentially leaving. that things always come to an end and this guy right here is his reckoning. on the other hand, atlas thinks rowan is just a scoundrel and uses his close friendship with taryn as a little flag to wave in atlas's face like surprise! u can't have her! how things get resolved? we'll find out in the far future. for now, have this little convo between taryn and rowan:

R: “He’s the one that called you a pawn. Embarrassed you like that and you just take it. Do you like him?” T: “That’s a stupid question.” R: “You’re the one that said we should ask them. The Taryn I know would never let any man walk all over her like that.” T: “I think you’re jealous.” R: “Because you look at him with such passion.” T: “He’s curious, questions everything and isn’t afraid of his emotions. He doesn’t run. Maybe… Maybe I need that.”

♡ silly taryn monologue because she's got a really entertaining perspective in this au:

I wasn’t going to cry. Not here in this taxi, not in my room, and certainly not in front of Atlas. In fact, Atlas can go rightfully fuck himself. Because, like, who the fuck does he think he is? I didn’t ask to be observed. I didn’t ask to have my life splayed out in 4K for the drunken bastards outside to see. Sure the couple to the left of us wouldn’t have remembered us arguing seeing as how they were preoccupied with one another but DAMN! Why did he have to complicate things?