#how could you remain the way you are after knowing that you are explicitly being used? that your kindness is blatantly being exploited?

[naminethewriter]

First Date and Spies

This was written for @artisticallygay as part of the @sanderssidesgiftxchange! The requests were Remus and Logan going on a date, Virgil and Logan stargazing and Roman and Remus getting along! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Logan and Remus both don't have any experiences with going on dates and as the former's best friend and the latter's brother, Virgil and Roman just want to make sure nothing goes wrong.

Content Warnings: None

Read here on Ao3!

~~*~~

“It is not too cold, is it?” Logan asks and Virgil squints at him.

“No, it’s fine, but you’re being weird, dude.”

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” he says stiffly. Virgil is getting annoyed. Logan’s been his best friend since they were five. He can read him like a book, and he knows that, so why does he insist on doing stuff like this when he knows it doesn’t work?

Virgil sighs, letting himself fall from his sitting position into a lying one and stares at the stars. It’s been a sort of tradition for the two of them to stargaze together at least once every few months in Logan’s backyard, ever since he’d been gifted that telescope when they’d been eight or so. Now they were both eighteen, in their last year of high school and Virgil did his best not to think about the fact that they might not be able to do this as frequently anymore once they graduate.

So instead, he goes back to what’s been bothering him initially.

By now, Logan has taken his seat next to him, though he seems to have decided to remain upright, staring up into the stars with a strange expression on his face.

“Lo, c’mon. You know you can tell me anything,” Virgil prompts gently, propping himself up on his arms to get a better look at Logan’s face in the low light.

He did not expect his friend’s face to turn red.

Not deep red, but he does still flush.

“I… Um…” Logan stutters, even more uncharacteristic of him but Virgil gives him time to find his words. “I was asked on… a romantic outing. At school. Today,” he finishes eventually. Virgil’s eyebrows shoot up and he hurries into a sitting position.

“Wow. What did you say?”

“I agreed.”

A smile spreads across Virgil’s lips, until a thought crosses his mind.

“It wasn’t a threat thing or a prank though, right?” he asks, seriously. Logan immediately shakes his head.

“Not at all. Remus was very clear that he would accept any answer I gave him and that I could take my time to do so. And I do not think he is the type of person to play such a horrible prank.”

“Remus?! Remus Prince?”

“Yes. He is a friend of yours, correct?”

“Well, yeah. And I knew he had kind of a thing for you, but I didn’t think he’d act on it! He talks a lot about his attractions to certain people, makes sex jokes all the time, but never actual relationships. Now that I think about it, he has started talking more about weird conversations you were having and not so much about your butt anymore.”

That gets another flush on Logan’s cheeks and Virgil snickers.

“You are right that he would never ask anyone out as a prank though. Not only does he think it’s cruel, but his brother would also kick his ass. You know how Roman’s obsessed with true love and relationships and stuff.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Logan says after clearing his throat. “Be that as it may, Remus has invited me to the science museum and has explicitly stated that he intends it to be a date. And while I am interested to explore that kind of relationship with him, I am not sure how to prepare for such an event.”

Virgil has to try really hard not to giggle at how formal Logan is being. It’s clear that he’s embarrassed by his lack of experience and Virgil would never judge him for it, but he can’t help but think his stiff way of asking for help is kinda cute.

“Don’t worry, Lo. I’ll help you get ready. I don’t know a lot about dating myself but I’m sure together we can figure out some sort of game plan.”

“Thank you.”

~~*~~

“Remus, I know you love it, and I hate to admit you do look good in it, but you’re not going to wear mesh or fishnets on your date!”

“The hell not?!”

“Because you invited Logan to the science museum! On a school holiday! There will be tons of kids and it’s a bit of a classy place! At least try to match the vibe a bit.”

“So, I can’t be slutty?” Remus pouts at his brother who is sitting on his bed. Roman has experience dating so Remus thought it might be good to ask him for some tips, but he is starting to regret it just a bit. Even if Roman has a point.

“You can be a bit but dial it down to like 10% or something. I mean, Logan also hasn’t seen you much outside of school, right? Hitting him with too much ‘sluttiness’ might scare him off or fluster him too much.”

Remus snorts as Roman actually uses air quotes around the word ‘sluttiness’. At least he’s gotten him to stop reprimanding him for improper language two years ago.

“Fine, fine! I will cover up more. But I am taking the leather jacket with all the pins.”

“At least take the middle finger one off. And keep a distance from any children or you’ll have to deal with Karen’s yelling about you corrupting their children again. Let me tell you, it’s kinda fun to watch you mess with them from a distance but if I’m next to you and in spitting range? Not so much. And I do hope you’re not planning to go around the museum without Logan.”

“Stop being so smart, it’s kinda annoying,” Remus complains with no real bite as he grabs his leather jacket and removes the advised pin as well as one or two more with rather large and easy-to-read fonts.

“Thank you for noticing my brilliance.”

“Shut up!” Remus giggles as he puts the pins away in a safe place and launches himself at his brother for a short, friendly fight atop his bed.

~~*~~

He’s a genius, Roman decides as he crouches behind a bush outside of the science museum, pretending to look for a coin he ‘accidentally’ dropped. Through the holes in the thicket, he can just make out his brother and his date talking on the steps before the entrance. His mission has officially begun.

While he does have a good vantage point to spy on Remus, he should be pretty much invisible to them, especially since he planned his outfit with this in mind, for once going with a darker color palette than his usual, even though he couldn’t resist some lighter accents – he didn’t want to end up looking like an emo after all.

“What are you doing in a bush, princey?” a voice suddenly whispers right next to his ear and Roman squeaks. Thankfully he had been present enough to not literally jump and blow his cover completely and a glance towards the entrance shows him that his brother and his date are making their way inside none the wiser to his presence.

He sharply turns to the person next to him with a scowl.

“What the hell was that?!” he hisses. “You almost blew my cover!”

Virgil Storm simply grins at him in a way that just infuriates him further.

“Cover? I thought you were looking for your coin you so convincingly, accidentally dropped.”

“You— I— That— Ugh! Just shut it!” Confirming with another glance that Remus and Logan have indeed gone inside, Roman stands up. “What I do here is none of your business!”

“So you weren’t spying on your brother and my best friend as they’re going on their first date?”

“Of course not! Who do you take me for!” Roman scoffs, even though that has been exactly what he had been doing. And was still intending to do.

“Right, sorry, your royal highness would of course never stoop so low, it’s not very honorable now, is it?”

Roman can see the teasing smile on Virgil’s lips and yet he can’t help but be a bit hurt by his words.

“I’m just worried about him,” he admits, his willingness to argue having left him. “He’s had crushes before but never as intense as this one. I just don’t want him to do anything stupid because he got nervous or something.”

Roman avoids looking at Virgil, staring firmly at the museum’s entrance as if his words might summon an angry Logan storming outside. He startles as a hand is placed on his shoulder.

“You don’t need to justify yourself, princey. It’s not like I’m here to look at the exhibits.”

His mouth falls open as Roman takes Virgil’s words in before he smacks him in the side, albeit lightly.

“What are you judging me for then if you’re here for the same reason?!”

“One, because you looked like you were trying so hard to play the spy it was ridiculous and I couldn’t not tease you and two, because I’m not ashamed that’s what I’m here for. Lo’s my best friend and while I do kinda trust Remus, I know he’s a bit of a loose canon at times. I’ve got anxiety, thinking up the worst-case scenarios is kinda my thing.”

“I was so being casual,” Roman grumbles. Virgil rolls his eyes before he walks past him.

“No, you weren’t. Now let’s go in before we lose them completely and this will have been a complete waste of time.”

With a huff, Roman follows his lead.

~~*~~

“So, how long are we gonna let them follow us?” Remus asks about half an hour into their date. Logan turns from where he’d been studying the plaque of an exhibit to see Remus watching the room’s entrance with a grin on his face.

“Oh, I wasn’t really considering telling them to stop. I know Virgil is here out of concern for me and while I do not know the motives of your brother, I assumed they would leave once they were satisfied that we are not about to tear each other to shreds.”

“That sounds like it could be kinda fun though! I wonder who of us would win if we were in a death match. I mean, I am probably stronger than you and have more experience fighting but you’re surprisingly nimble and have a great reaction time, so you might be able to outmaneuver me.”

“Interesting points,” Logan hums, considering the scenario. “I would need more data to come to a conclusion on the matter I believe, so I propose to table this discussion for another time.”

Remus grins at him now, no longer watching the entrance. Logan watches a flash of purple hurry past it.

“You already proposing a second date?”

“So far I am not opposed. But I will leave the final judgement to later in the day.”

“Fair. Anyway, back to the actual topic, when’d you figure out we were being tailed?”

“Before we even came in. As you know, Virgil and I have been friends for a very long time and I know his habits probably even better than his parents. I spotted his bicycle as I made my way towards the entrance. I believe Virgil, due to his heightened anxiety, wanted to make sure that he arrived here on time and hid in the coffee shop across the street until we met up.”

Remus raises an eyebrow at him.

“You can tell which bike was his? The park out back was pretty full, there must’ve been a lot of bikes.”

“Yes, there were. But Virgil does not like to park his bicycle where most would park it since he is afraid of not being able to find it later but also does not want to leave it in a hidden spot where it can be more easily stolen. Add in the factor of not wanting to be found out, it was reasonable to assume he would leave his bicycle in an area with some others to blend in but not unable to be found. Not to mention, the only thing I need to do to confirm my suspicions about it being Virgil’s vehicle, I just needed to check how it was locked. Again, due to his anxiety, Virgil is very particular about how he locks it. He has one lock with a numbered code and one that requires a key. He makes sure to connect his bicycle to a stable object with one and uses the other to secure the back tire to the frame.”

“Wow, I feel like I’m learning more about the Emo than I am you,” Remus chuckles. Logan feels his face heat up with embarrassment. Maybe that was too detailed an explanation for a date.

“I apologize.”

“Nah, don’t. It’s fascinating stuff. Your observation skills are impressive.”

“As are yours. When did you notice them?”

“I can distinguish Roman’s high-pitched yelp from thousand others. Your little nightmare of a best friend startled him quite bad outside.”

“I see. Well, considering how they have now taken over our topic of conversation, I do believe it might be appropriate to tell them to stop after all. I would like to give you my full attention.”

“Yeaaaaaaahhhhhhh, I guess you’re right,” Remus sighs. “It would be kinda fun to turn this around on them and scare them or something, but I guess I can mess with Roman some other time and I don’t actually want your purple cat to hate me.”

“I do not own a cat,” Logan blinks, confused. He and Remus have talked about pets previously, had he forgotten? And how does that relate to their current conversation anyway?

“I meant Virgil. He hisses like a cat sometimes and follows you around like he’s your pet, it’s kind of a bad attempt at a nickname.”

“I see. I will endeavor to understand your humor more.”

“Aw, thanks!” Remus giggles and Logan finds he likes the sound.

“I will text Virgil now.”

“Tell him I said hi.”

~~*~~

From Logan

While I do appreciate you worrying about me, I am having a very good time with Remus. If you could please take Roman and leave, I would be very grateful.

Also, Remus says ‘hi.’

Virgil looks down at his phone and snorts.

“C’mon, princey, we’re leaving.” He grabs Roman’s arm and starts dragging him towards the exit.

“Wha-! Why? I’m not done!”

“Our cover’s blown, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Roman stops struggling but stops moving, too.

“What do you mean?”

“Here,” Virgil says as he holds up his phone to show Roman the text he just got from Logan. “My guess is they’ve known for a while.”

Roman’s eyes flutter across the screen and his face turns a bit red.

“I thought we were being so subtle though!” he whines but does start following Virgil outside.

“As if subtlety is something you’re capable of,” Virgil snorts and dodges the responding attempt of Roman to smack him in the side again. “Let me buy you a coffee or something. This was a lot less stressful with someone else.” Roman smiles at that, looking so genuinely happy that Virgil can’t resist teasing him again, “Especially with someone so much worse at it than me.”

“Hey!” Roman calls after him, pouting once again, as Virgil speed walks ahead of him, unable to contain his grin.

[aroacettorney]

morally grey characters are great and all, but sometimes i do feel like ppl who genuinely think lawful good-aligned redeemers are comparatively much more boring overlook/underestimate the amount of effort and conviction required from them to remain kind and also unwaveringly believe in the second chance / potential of goodness in each and every person despite the injustice that the rest of the world has been done unto them.

[narcjsistx]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆... | sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, kaiser micheal

part two with reo, rin and bachira soon!!

plot: you're in a nonpublic relationship, but one gesture in particular blows your cover <3

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

— sae itoshi

That you had always been attracted to impossible things was not unknown: as a child you loved unicorns, one of the most imaginative and magical creatures ever. You believed you could love even something impossible, and the same thing had more or less happened when you met your boyfriend, Sae Itoshi. Sae was something impossible, out of your reach for the simple fact that you were a very normal person when he was one of the most famous U-20 soccer players in the world and, above all, of the moment

Sae was impossible, and you had always liked the impossible. That's how you liked to tell your mother when she asked how you ended up in a relationship with him. Known for a big misunderstanding in a public laundry, for a reason still unknown to you, fate had decided that this was not the last time you would see each other

The choice had come when Sae had explicitly asked you for it: not that he was ashamed of you or anything like that, but fame brings negative things as well as positive ones. One of them was privacy. Although after years he was used to invasions of privacy even during a walk, he didn't want to ruin what had always been normality for you. So no one, other than your families and a few friends of yours, knew about you two

And so, a little over a year after you had made it official only to your families that you were together as a couple, the thing that was impossible for you was how your cover was still standing. You didn't mind being in a nonpublic relationship, in fact you found it more pleasant and intimate, but Sae was famous all over the world: you knew that sooner or later everything would collapse like a house of playing cards

And evidently that day was today

"So, who is she?" his teammate asks again, the Spanish accent thick in every word. Your fingers tighten around the handles of his sports bag, desperately searching for a way that doesn't confirm what practically everyone in the room has already assumed. 10 pairs of eyes stare at you curiously, waiting for either you or Sae to speak and make up an excuse that they can deny

The last match that ReAl had won against an equally Spanish team had ended less than an hour ago. It was Valentine's Day, and the stadium where the match was played had made VIP seats available to which only the players partners could access. The partners had a card previously given by the boyfriends which gave the possibility of walking in certain areas of the stadium, one of which was the locker room. You had remained in the popular stands for the entire match, and after the end you had decided to use your VIP pass, which Sae had given you a few days before, to go and congratulate and surprise him. You had purposely waited a full hour to get in just so all the other teammates would leave, but apparently something had been holding them back

The players didn't know you, it was a secret relationship after all. The partners who usually came to see their boyfriends knew each other, and Sae was still the only one no one had ever seen with a girl. Everything fit with the perfect fall of the cover that you had so carefully supported

"umh" you stutter embarrassed. The most damning proof you have is undoubtedly the Sae sports bag you have in your hands, which stands out for its black color instead of the white and red that ReAl uses. You take a few steps back, not knowing at all how to escape the situation, much less where Sae is, who you don't even see in the locker room. His stuff is here, his teammates are here, but where is he dammit?

"We've never eaten anyone, or at least off the field" says a boy who gets up, making the rest of his teammates laugh. You recognize him for being a braggart that Sae tells you about every now and then, who has 100 girls and every game brings a new one. You roll your eyes at the tasteless joke, trying not to let your annoyance show

"I probably went to the wrong locker room, please excuse me..." you say turning on your heel, heading towards the exit, but the boy's hand grabs your wrist just enough to make you immobilize "It's not a problem, you don't have to apologize. But I don't think you're here by mistake..." the boy says laughing cheerfully, and really, you don't understand all his humor. You try to free yourself from the grip on the wrist, but the soccer player doesn't seem to give in as he makes some of his teammates laugh with sleazy jokes

“Could you let go of my wrist?” you say trying to sound polite, but he shakes his head "We need to figure out who your boyfriend is first! Victor, is she your girlfriend?" the boy asks, making you turn towards another guy, who obviously shakes his head "Sanchez, is this yours?" he asks another again, and you can't explain why you have to suffer such humiliating treatment if you haven't actually done anything wrong

"Arion, is it your-" the boy says, but someone interrupts him "She's my girlfriend."

Everyone turns towards the voice, including you: Sae, fresh out of the shower wearing sweatpants and a simple towel around his neck, peeks out from the locker room showers. His eyes waver a little at seeing you here, surprised at the whole situation and above all not understanding how you ended up here. He tilts his head, his usual apathetic look at the boy next to you "You should let go her wrist" he says taking a few steps forward, the usual nonchalance typical of his character. "Oh! Oh, yes" says the boy, immediately pulling away, taking a few steps back. The grip on your wrist releases, easing the pressure you had built up. You breathe a sigh of relief, but at the same time remember what situation you are in: the relationship that you had covered for so long has just come to light

You look up at Sae, who you think is the least bit angry, but there isn't a shred of anger in his face, in fact, he almost seems relieved. He comes in front of you, taking his sports bag that you had in your hands "Thanks. Two minutes and we can go" he says putting it back on the floor, putting a clean t-shirt on and putting the towel back on in his black bag. You look at him embarrassed, not daring to look at any of his teammates who have remained silent in the meantime

Sae stands up, holding his bag with one hand and grabbing yours with the other, letting your palms and fingers connect "Let's go" he says, nodding his head. You leave the locker room, everyone's gaze still on you. Start walking towards the back of the stadium, heading towards the car parks dedicated to the players cars. A slight, uncomfortable silence hangs between you two, and you wonder if he's simply thinking of a way to restore everything to how it was and make your relationship nonpublic again

"It wasn't that bad anyway. You can ask your teammates to just shut up" you say, looking down, but a light squeeze on your hand makes you look up in his direction “Huh?” he asks, and you try to sound clearer "For the relationship. You can tell your classmates not to talk-" you say, but he cuts you off even before you finish "Do you want to make it nonpublic again?" he asks, and you find yourself thinking about it

Being nonpublic had never been a problem for you, you appreciated that Sae cared so much about your privacy. On the other hand, your privacy never really mattered much to you: you wanted to walk with him and hold his hand even in front of a crowd, not pretend not to know him as often happened. If being with him meant sacrificing something, you would have done so immediately and without even thinking about

“I'm actually okay with being public-” you say and at the same moment you see him sigh more calmly “What is it?” you ask curiously "I've been waiting a long time to ask you this. But I didn't want to seem hypocritical since I asked you to make it nonpublic" Sae says, and almost immediately you smile at his words

The impossible was something that actually often actually happened. It had happened that you got dating to the prodigy of Japan, and it was happening now when you were officially made his girlfriend for all his fans and the world

— shidou ryusei

“You went too far as usual” you say, rolling your eyes, albeit amused. Shidou chuckles, buttoning up the buttons that hide your chest “You should be used to it” he says looking up after finishing his work. You laugh softly, still amazed at how you let yourself be dragged into such a situation. But then you think about it and you understand that avoiding these situations with your boyfriend is far too difficult. Shidou cups your face in his hands, tilting your head slightly to look at his beautiful work: two red and purple marks stand out from many other small ones. He observes them with a certain pride, stroking the bite mark he left on you with his thumb

“I don't think this was the break the director intended” you say, walking towards the door, reluctantly releasing the grip Shidou had. You hear him murmuring something, but you don't pay attention to it as you brush your hair to the side, leaving the hickeys on your neck visible: you have to walk in an empty corridor and you're hot, so you're not at risk. You place your hand on the doorknob, headed to exit and return to the car, but you are petrified when the entire corridor turns out to be filled with journalists

You stand there, motionless, and Shidou appears behind you, also intending to leave. He stands still, but less shocked, a few steps behind you. Everyone turns in your direction, and an awkward silence hangs in the narrow space delimited by the walls. Many, if not all, notice the red marks on your neck and there are more than a few surprised expressions. Some cameras turn towards you, some journalists take their microphones in case the situation requires them

And you immediately regret having, for the umpteenth time, indulged Shidou's shitty ideas. You knew you had to wait for him in the car so that he could go home with you at the end of the interview, but his messages had convinced you that there was no harm in sneaking out for a few minutes. While you were waiting he had sent you messages telling you that his interview was late and that the director had advised him to go to a private room to relax before his shift. He had asked you to come in to keep him company, that you could sneak in for a few minutes since the corridors were empty, and that he simply needed you. And so you found yourself against the wall with your boyfriend's lips on your neck, killing time until his interview

But evidently something had gone wrong with the program in mind, because now you had more than 100 journalists waiting their turn and now they had a front page story. You and him had been together for a while, and the agreement between you was to keep your relationship nonpublic for a while because the media often went heavy on their idols partners

But the cover seemed to have been blown

"Shidou, Shidou Ryusei? With a mysterious girl?" says a journalist, directing the microphone at you "The king of the penalty area with a woman?" someone else says, and from then on you just hear everyone else making up name after name as they try to get some information out of you two

"Holy shit" you whisper to yourself, covering your hickeys with your hair, even though everyone has noticed them by now. You die of embarrassment at all these eyes staring at you, and the best option at the moment seems to be going back into the room and hoping that this is all just a trick your mind is playing on you. You knew that sooner or later you would make it official, but you didn't think this way and especially with you in these conditions. It all looked perfectly like the most colossal figure of shit the human lifeform had ever seen in this shitty life

You look for Shidou, but when you turn you can't find him anymore. You wonder if he seriously followed the advice to go back to the room and hope it's all a dream, but you know that's not your man's style: instead you feel your shoulders surrounded by his arm, which promptly squeezes you to the point of keeping you by your side alongside. You turn towards him, and on his face you notice that his usual smirk that never leads to anything good. Something's about to explode

"Ladies, gentlemen! One at a time, please" he says loudly, and the attention they previously had on you shifts to him, who has always dominated the scene better in a frighteningly natural way "This racket for WHAT? Two red marks? You've never seen worse, then" he says, and as you thought his joke provokes a small laugh from everyone

The journalists try to get the best place in front of you, and perplexed you turn to Shidou "Don't do anything I might regret" you say almost in a whisper, but he grins "Let me do it, babe. I tied them to my finger like fish to a fishing line" he says confidently, and it's his confidence that worries you. Some journalist raises the microphone, firing off questions that you don't even understand because of the speed. Shidou still doesn't understand them, and after several attempts he gives up; he waves his hand, moving the microphones away

"I thought I would talk today about my relationship with the beautiful girl in question here, but evidently the scoop will go to you and not to the agency we are in" he says dramatically, as if he actually regretted giving information to others. "What did you want to do?" you whisper perplexed, not knowing that his goal today was to make it official anyway. Shidou turns to you, grabs your waist and bends your back, his chest smeared against his “Media, meet my fucking beloved girlfriend!” he says, kissing you. Confused, you don't know how to react, but shortly after you give in and respond to the kiss, placing your hand against his face. The journalists explode, the cameras start filming and broadcasting. It's an understatement that you have shocked the media for at least the next few days, but with Shidou in the end everything is unpredictable and without explosions

It wasn't the way you expected to make it official, but as long as it works it's fine, right?

— micheal kaiser

The subtle smell of french fries hung in the air, mixing with the light air that resonated in the club. Everyone's chatting made the evening pleasant, which actually seemed to go too well

Hamburg was huge as a city, Ness himself recognized it, yet he had lived there for a good part of his life before moving to Berlin on the campus of Bastard Munchen. You had been here a few other times, and you had fallen in love with the small and cute clubs that the city offered

When you returned to the hotel room with Kaiser you had begged him to go out tonight, since you had arrived you had spent all your time at training or at the match, which had ended with the victory of the German team. And Kaiser has little chance of telling you no, it's something he just can't do: so, a few hours later, you and other team members found yourself in a club celebrating the victory. Sitting next to him you were calm, after all he was your boyfriend and his team knew about you two, unlike the rest of the world. However, being in a public place the only affectionate gesture you could allow yourself was his hand on your thigh, covered by the table and which no stranger could see

Everything was going well: Bastard Munchen had won today, tomorrow morning you would return home and take a few days break from being the team manager. Everything was perfect

But obviously perfection, even if sweated with difficulty and attention, does not last long

You were chatting with a team member when, from afar, you noticed a group of guys watching you. It was nothing new, the players were famous and you were also quite well known thanks to your role in the team. Kaiser notices the same thing, tilting his face towards the small crowd "You're wanted" you say jokingly, and he snorts in a mock annoyed way: you know how much he actually loves this attention from fans, which feeds his big ego. The guys step forward, followed by others and yet others, until the table is surrounded by all the guys shyly asking for an autograph or a photo

The group, made up of a girl and two boys, approaches Kaiser asking to take a photo. He accepts, reluctantly lifting the contact of his hand on your thigh, and you can read his slight annoyance in his cerulean eyes. You giggle a little at seeing him annoyed, but you don't let it show

Then, the dinner that was supposed to be quiet and a way to spend time with your boyfriend turns out to be yet another time when public life comes before private life; it doesn't make you sad though, because seeing Kaiser happy while talking to his fans makes you happy too

You stay to eat your chips and chat with Ness, who unlike Kaiser only had to sign a few quick autographs, and every now and then you glance at Kaiser who stayed behind to talk to the group of people. You notice how completely comfortable he seems, so you don't worry

But then something reaches your ear

"We are moving to another club to spend the rest of the night, would you join us?" a boy says, and the rest of the group nods. Kaiser is used to these somewhat sudden questions, fans often cross the line almost without wanting to "I can't guys. The team is celebrating together tonight" he says playing with a lock of his blue hair, and you try to be indiscreet in listening to the conversation

"What a shame..." says a boy, and Kaiser chuckles "I know guys. Maybe next time" he says, and he seems about to go back to the table, when the girl stops him by taking a few steps forward "Or maybe there's is it a girl you're waiting for?" the woman asks, and you immediately turn towards their direction, trying not to cough up what's in your mouth for the surprise

You see Kaiser a little perplexed, you notice it from the way he tilts his head trying to come up with an excuse that seems convincing "Maybe. But I shouldn't tell you, guys" he says, and this time you're the one who's perplexed

You see him turn towards you, just enough to give you a brief wink that you notice all too well. You pretend like you didn't see him, turning away, but you really don't understand where he's going with his speech. You've been together for quite a while and it's always been confidential for a matter of convenience, being nonpublic you had many pros but at the same time many cons. And at the time you had never talked about making it public, as much as you actually wanted to be like this

"Really? Are you in a relationship?" the boy asks, and Kaiser smiles satisfied "I don't know. Do you think I have it?" he asks, and everyone immediately nods "There are rumors that you are dating the German model who is always on the front page of Vogue" says one, but the other corrects him "What are you saying! He could be dating the girl he was spotted with last week passed in front of the city's cathedral" says the other, and you see in Kaiser's gaze an amusement you've never seen before. You nervously bite your nail, not knowing what he's doing and above all why he didn't complete the conversion a few minutes ago. What the fuck is going on?

"You're both wrong! The rumors all agree that he's dating the manager of Bastard Munchen, have you seen how they look at each other? Or how she's always the first one he greets when the players take the field?" says the girl very convinced, placing her hands on her waist

It is at that moment when all your beliefs fall away. You thought you hadn't made the situation so obvious, but evidently you failed

You turn towards them again, trying to hide the blush that you now know has taken up residence on your cheeks. Kaiser claps his hands happily "Right! I'm waiting for her" he says, and everyone in the group's jaw drops "Are you serious? Are you seriously with the manager?" the boy asks, and he nods. You notice too late how the girl, peeking out from Kaiser's figure, has noticed you: you hide your face by looking down, but it's too late now

"But she's here!" the girl says, and Kaiser rolls his eyes as if he hadn't noticed you “I know. My girlfriend, yu-hu Y/n!” he says, raising his hand to greet you as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell on a mere group of fans. You raise your face trying to look as calm as possible, as if everything is actually normal and your heart isn't going 100 times faster than normal. Kaiser comes closer, sitting next to you again and putting his arm around your shoulders, while the group looks at you surprised but happy "I don't like to keep my girlfriend waiting, guys. Have a good evening though!" he says, cuddling while you are literally trying not to start screaming

The guys nod, both saying goodbye and thanking Kaiser for his time. When they leave, you turn to him with the reddest face ever "What did you just do?!" you ask in surprise, but with his free hand he caresses your arm, making slow and gentle movements "Doing what I should have done a long time ago. Isn't it better this way, Schatz?" he asks. You suppress the urge to insult him, because the truth is, you too would have liked to make it official a long time ago

“Do you know that now you will have to confirm this to the whole world and not just to one group?” you ask with a sigh, relaxing the nerves that have been on edge for minutes. He smirks, nodding as he grabs his phone “I've had a post ready on Instagram for a while. It's been in the drafts for a long time, how about I post it now?” he asks, and you curse yourself for never being able to be mad at him

You both had each other's fingers tied, it was too obvious by now. Maybe it really was time to share your love with the world and not just with the team, as it has been until now

[heytheredelulu]

Anon request: “could you do something enemies/rivals where bucky accidentally finds out that you have a mirror kink during a training session?”

Yes, absofuckinglutely yes.

Watch Me

Rival!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count 2.4k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, fingering, size kink, mirror kink, choking, degradation (Bucky calls reader a slut once), hate sex (p-in-v unprotected), one lil spank, no aftercare and Bucky’s kind of an asshole.

“You’re distracted!” Bucky grunts, landing another painful blow to your gut, causing you to stumble backwards as he effectively knocks the wind out of you again.

“Just shut up, Barnes!” You snap back, resting your hands on your knees as you hunch over and work to catch your breath.

He wasn’t wrong, you were completely distracted. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the wall of mirrors behind him and it only made it that much easier for him to land hit after fucking hit.

You may absolutely loathed the man but it didn’t change the fact that the way his muscles flexed in his back and biceps in the reflection of the mirror behind him as he pummeled you with his fists sent your mind reeling with thoughts of how those toned muscles would feel under your hands, your lips, your tongue.

Why couldn’t this man wear a goddamned shir-

He strikes you hard in the chest despite you being bent over and at rest and you stagger back in shock, the force of it having you struggling to maintain your balance and remain upright. Your temporary disorientation allows him the opportunity to wrap his right arm around your neck and pull you into a sleeper hold.

“Wanna tell me why you keep lookin’ in that mirror?” He breathes against your ear, his tone assuring you that there’s a smirk creeping across his stupid fucking face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You pant through gritted teeth, jerking your shoulders against his arm, working to free yourself from his chokehold.

He shakes his head, a sardonic laugh rumbling up from his chest as his forearm tightens across your windpipe. “Tap out.” He orders. “You can’t fucking handle me, princess. You don’t belong in the field. You’re weak. It’s pathetic.” His voice is low and cruel as you continue to struggle. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, or worse- get one of us killed.”

Rage simmers in your belly at his comment but the shame you feel from the truth of it is evident in the crimson blush creeping across your face.

He was right again.

You were weak.

That’s exactly why Tony had scheduled you to spar with him. Had you not been explicitly instructed to have training sessions by Tony Stark himself, you wouldn’t be caught dead alone in a room Bucky fucking Barnes and his smug ass attitude. It was no secret that this man was the bane of your existence, taking every opportunity to pick a fight and belittle you in front of everyone regardless of the time, place or context.

Unfortunately when it came to hand to hand combat, he was the most skilled out of anyone else on the team. so it made sense to pair you with him for training despite how much you had protested the idea. As you spent the last hour getting taunted and insulted while simultaneously having your ass handed to you, you couldn’t help but feel like Tony was just putting you in a room with him for his own amusement.

The anger overtakes the shame and you grit your teeth, bringing your head forward before slamming it back into his face with all the strength you could muster, pain erupting across the crown of your head. Bucky releases you, stunned and furious, bringing his fingertips up to swipe away the trickle of blood that trailed from his nostril. He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his cerulean eyes narrowing.

“A fucking headbutt? Are you kidding me?” He shouts, advancing on you. “You’re supposed to grab onto your opponent’s arm, bend your knees, sidestep and roll me off your back! Have you paid attention to anything I’ve told you?” He asks, leaning over you with a menacing glare. “You could’ve given yourself a goddamn concussion, you idiot!”

You scoff, stepping up on your tiptoes in an attempt to to make yourself appear taller, more confident but you nearly shrink right back down when the scent of his cologne mingled with the musk of his sweat hits your nostrils.

Goddamnit, he smells like cedarwood and sin.

“I was paying attention! Do you really expect me to be able to roll your big ass over my back? That’s impossible!” You argue.

“Bullshit. You’re distracted. You’ve been distracted this entire time.” He growls, prodding a finger into your chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You threaten, moving to swat his hand away but he’s quicker and snatches your wrist.

“Don’t touch you?”

Bucky leans down further and you stiffen at his sudden closeness.

“I think you like when I touch you.” He taunts, tightening his metal hand around your wrist and spinning you away from him to face the line of mirrors across the wall.

“Fuck you, Barnes.”

“You want to, don’t you?” He asks in a low voice as he leans in behind you, trailing his flesh hand up your abdomen and closing it around your throat. You don’t reply, unable to form a coherent thought when his body dwarfs yours, towering over you from behind. He closes in, pressing his bare, sweat slicked chest against your upper back, drawing a sharp breath from your lungs when the length of his hard cock in his gym shorts settles against the curve of your ass.

“I think you forget.” He whispers, the light stubble across his jaw brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“Super soldier. I’m enhanced. My senses are enhanced.”

His hand tightens around your throat, your pulse fluttering against his palm.

“I can hear your heartbeat, princess.” He taunts, his breathy chuckle fanning against your skin before he nips at your earlobe and goosebumps prickle across your skin.

“I can smell how badly your cunt is aching for me.”

Your eyes widen in response to his brazen statement and you make a move to step out of his hold but he splays his large hand across your stomach and tuts at you.

“Don’t try to deny it.” He whispers, his metal hand slowly working its way down your body. “You know, it’s funny. You say you hate me, but your body’s betraying you.” His cool fingers tease at the waistband of your leggings and your breath hitches, your eyes slipping shut.

“I bet if I were to just-“

Your hand catches his wrist before his fingers can trek any further and you shake your head. “No.” You mumble, opening your eyes and connecting your gaze with his in the mirror.

“Why?” He asks, brushing his lips against your neck. You tilt your chin up, granting him further access and he chuckles against your skin when you avoid answering his question.

“Because you don’t want to? Or because you hate me so much you don’t want me to be right?” He asks quietly.

You open your mouth to reply but the only sound that slips out is a moan when he proceeds to dip his fingers beneath your waist band, ghosting a finger across your slick folds.

“That’s what I thought.” He whispers, gathering your arousal on your fingers and tracing them along your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“Jesus, Princess. You’re so fucking wet.”

You groan, trying desperately to remind yourself just how much you loathe this man but every brush of his fingers against your clit pulls you further and further away from logic.

Fuck it.

You arch your back against him and hook your thumbs in your waistband, tugging your leggings and panties down and kicking them aside in a hurry. Your eyes are completely fixed on the mirror, staring at his hand cupping your cunt and you place your hand atop his, guiding his metal fingers towards your entrance.

“Oh, is that right?” He teases, his finger poised at your weeping hole but denying you of what you so desperately want.

“I had a hunch when you couldn’t take your eyes off my reflection earlier but now I know for sure.”

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You whisper harshly, grinding your backside against his erection.

“I know.”

He sinks a single metal finger into your wet heat and you gasp at the sensation, keeping your eyes locked on your reflection as he pumps into you, his breath growing heavy against your neck as he adds a second finger, letting out a low groan when he’s met with resistance.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He murmurs, grazing his teeth along the tender flesh of your neck.

“I'm gonna have to open you up, princess.”

You whimper, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder as he scissors his fingers inside your cunt, massaging your inner walls and working to add a third finger. A cry escapes your throat at the intrusion, your hand flying up and carding in his hair to steady yourself.

“I’m gonna bury my cock in this tight little cunt.” He purrs, rocking his fingers into you, his palm grinding against your clit and your impending orgasm causing your pussy to flutter around his fingers. He grips your jaw and roughly tilts your head back down to look in the mirror. “You're gonna watch me when I make you come.” He growls, fucking his fingers into you at a steady pace, your arousal creating an obscene squelch with every pump of his hand.

Your eyes trail up the reflection of your body as it writhes in pleasure under his touch and your eyes connect with his. Your mouth falls open, a broken cry falling from your lips as your walls clench around his fingers and you break under the gaze of his blue, lust-blown eyes. He hums, his grip on your jaw loosening and he turns your head, capturing your mouth in a deep and passionate kiss as he withdraws his fingers from inside you. “Take my cock out.” He murmurs against your lips, his low voice carrying demand while grasping your wrist and guiding your hand to palm the aching erection tented in his gym shorts.

You don’t hesitate to follow his instruction, reaching under his waistband and curling your hand around him, letting out whine when you realize you can’t close your hand completely around his girth.

“I told you.” He whispers, peppering kisses across your jaw. “I needed to open you up for me.”

You release a shuddered breath and he pushes down on the small of your back to urge you to lean forward, his metal fingers tracing along your shoulder and down your arm to settle atop your hand. He brings it to the mirror, interlocking your fingers with his and pressing it against the glass.

“I’m not gonna be gentle. You know that, right?” He asks in a low voice, dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and choke back a moan as he releases your hand and widens his stance.

You watch as his eyes drop to your ass, his large palm resting flat against it to hold you steady while he grasps the base of his cock and presses himself against your entrance. You raise your other hand to the mirror, leaning forward with a bowed head and brace yourself against it as the sweet sting of him stretching you steals the air from your lungs.

“I don’t want you to be.” You breathe out, lifting your head weakly and connecting your gaze with his as he settles his hands on your waist.

No sooner than the words leave your mouth, he’s drawing his hips back, withdrawing almost completely before he slams back into you with bruising force. You let out a strangled cry, your eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you at a merciless pace.

A harsh slap to your ass directs your attention back up to his reflection where his hungry eyes are still fixated on you.

“I thought I told you to watch me when I make you come.” He grunts, pulling a sharp breath from you as he snaps his hips forward and kisses your cervix with the tip of his weeping cock. He slides his hand down across your pubic bone and slips it down between your folds to tease your throbbing clit. His fingers work quick, tight circles across your sensitive bud, igniting a fire low in your belly and spreading heat under your skin.

“You like that, huh?” He taunts, his voice low and husky as he fucks into you with unrelenting tempo. “You like to watch yourself when you’re getting fucked, don’t you? Kinky little slut.”

“Bucky, I-”

You lose your words in a choked sob, arching your back as your cunt spasms and contracts around his cock, your knees threatening to buckle under the wave of euphoria crashing over your body.

“That’s right Princess, come all over my cock.” He moans, his hips stuttering as he trails his fingers away from your swollen clit.

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist, chasing his orgasm in deep, brutal thrusts, his heavy sack slick with your release, slapping against your skin with every jerk of his hips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense.

He pulls out abruptly and you lock eyes in the mirror one last time, his brows knitting and his lips parting as he curses your name, frantically fucking his fist and painting your ass with thick ropes of cum.

You press your forehead against the cool glass before you as you work to catch your breath and it’s silent for several long, uncomfortable minutes before you hear the faint rustle of him tugging up his shorts.

You straighten up and turn around to see him moving towards you with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and his t-shirt in his hand.

“Good session.” He says flatly, tossing his t-shirt at you and you catch it, your brows furrowing in confusion. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a smug smirk and he gestures towards your sticky ass.

“I hate you.” You mutter, shame rising up your cheeks in a deep blush as you wipe yourself angrily with his t-shirt.

“I know.” He replies, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice while he turns to leave.

“Same time tomorrow!” He shouts over his shoulder, leaving you alone, ashamed and naked in the gym.

Goddamnit, you fucking hate him.

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @wintrsoldrluvr

A/N: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

💋Sj

[feeder86]

Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time. 

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet. 

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It���s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion. 

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control. 

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.  

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

One of the most tragic things about demons in KNY is that they’re explicitly bastardizations of their human selves, twisted or malformed into something actively malicious.

Akaza, for example, originally sought strength as a way to provide and protect for his loved ones;

His father, and Koyuki.

He hates the weak because — to him — the weak are the kind who don’t confront you head on and use underhanded tactics. They’re ugly, they lack forbearance, and give into desperation too easily;

They give into the voices in their heads that say they have to hurt others to appease themselves.

This includes the men who laughed at or scorned his ailing father, the members of the dojo who poisoned the well, and the version of himself who killed 67 people for it. Who bloodied his master’s beloved martial arts and the very memory of his father, Keizo, and Koyuki. He wanted to become strong to outgrow that kind of weakness, and he forgot that when he became a demon. His goal became an obsession with strength just for the sake of it, rather than to provide and protect.

This, I believe, is the reason why he offers demonization to — at the very least — people like Rengoku and Giyuu. A part of him recognizes a similar motivation in them, and (because the demon half of him believes his current self to be the culmination of his efforts) he offers them his supposed salvation. A way to continue seeking power far beyond what a human can manage.

His goal survives where his accessible memory died with his corruption;

He subconsciously incorporated his loved ones into his very being as a demon.

A thing that remains consistent across the demons in KNY, with the hand demon and his memory of running home while holding his brother’s hand, the temari demon and her desire to play, and so on so forth. It’s horribly tragic.

But the part that stands out to me is the fact that this seems to apply to Muzan Kibutsuji too, because his desire to live past his disease when he was human manifested into an obsession with immortality as a demon. It didn’t matter that he was healthier than he’d ever been, the sun could still harm him and so he wasn’t perfect just yet. That’s why he searched so desperately for a demon who would either survive the sun or could become a part of the twelve waxing or waning moons who would protect him while he looked.

Fascinatingly, both he and Upper Moon One (Kokushibo) overlook the immortality of the memento mori philosophy. They focused on how they specifically could live on, forgetting that their knowledge and their history could be passed down and used or remembered by the people after them. Maybe that’s why they hated Yorichii so much — because he looked at the future where he would be forgotten and thought that he would love nothing more then to be a simple footnote in this long, arduous journey to their victory.

The Ubayashiki and many of the demon slayers in between felt similarly, giving their lives for the cause and knowing that someone else would one day do what they sought to do… that the world would eventually heal from demons altogether.

[dyaz-stories]

say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.

(He fucks you on your desk)

word count: 2.6k

genre: canon compliant, smut

cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers

a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!

more gojo x reader here

Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.

“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”

“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”

“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”

“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”

“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”

You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.

It just so happens that you are very paranoid.

Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.

“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”

It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.

“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.

“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”

It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.

You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.

“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?”

You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.

“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”

“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”

He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—

“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”

You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—

Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.

You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.

It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.

You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.

But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.

Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.

“Wait, wait, Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.

“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”

“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”

He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.

“Yaga— Yaga could—”

“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”

He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.

You always laugh for him.

“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.

“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”

You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.

He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.

“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.

Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.

“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.

Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.

“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”

You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”

He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.

“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.

“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”

Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.

“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”

That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!

You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.

He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.

“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.

“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.

Ah, now that’s more like it.

“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.

“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”

Cute.

“Done. Now, about that round two…”

“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.

He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.

“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.

“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”

There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.

“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.

Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.

“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.

Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.

Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.

You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.

You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.

With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.

“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.

“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”

“No.”

“Yaga’s office is probably—”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.

“…Sure.”

He only savors his victory for a second.

“What about the couch?”

“Don’t push it.”

But he does, and you let him.

How could you not, when you finally have him back?

still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~

if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here

[gin-juice-tonic]

A Bill Book related post again. I touched on this the other day when I posted these pages sans-explanation. And I really do still want to make a more coherent post about this, But like

This page is post-betrayal in the original Journal 3 Book

He literally says right here that he's "revealing" the fact that Bill is the name of his muse for the first time.

This should be the first place in the book where Bill is connected to the concept of Being the muse.

And yet. When it comes to the Book of Bill

He NAME DROPS HIM immediately!

Now, the above page takes place before this "My Muse" page chronologically:

Where Ford states that his Muse is his secret. I'd argue that the way he is writing it suggests he's content in having this secret to himself. Could you argue that he must've torn out that "Cipher Speaks" page before writing this one? Hmmmm, maybe. Maybe he had a change in attitude in how to present Bill in his journal at this point.

... EXCEPT. Then we get to THIS Book of Bill page!

He's name dropping Bill! Again! And explicitly calling him his muse! This page takes place sometime after/during the building of the portal, so well after the "I have a secret" page. Has his attitude shifted again? I sincerely doubt it, considering like I said, the original journal 3's muse pages tend to read like he's pleased in having this secret to himself. I don't have the pages on me, but go look through J3 at any other pages where Ford mentions his muse. It's in his tone.

Additionally there's the matter of the page that I posted at the top of this post. (Which I'll throw in again for free here, just for you)

Bill's status as Ford's muse has been his secret, even to the Journal, this whole time! What the Bill Book pages present is an entirely different narrative, where Bill's basically never been a secret amongst the Journal Pages.

Now, Ford's not the most reliable narrator himself, could it be possible post-betrayal he went back and ripped things out to just make it look that way? I don't think so. Again, go look at the "My Muse" page. Look at the other J3 muse pages. He would've had to not only rip out pages, but go back in and add the secret narrative entirely. He would've had to go back and write these pages pretending to be happy about being the only one to know this guy who has been trying to ruin his life. I don't think he's in a state where he could do that even if he wanted to at this point.

Plus if he was in the habit of ripping out pro-Bill pages, why does this one get to remain?

As opposed to being crossed out?

And before you say "Gin he's dropping Bill's name here". Yes, he is. But he's not conflating him with his "muse". This pages placement is a bit of a strange thing (in general. Why is this page post-betrayal? i'd have to think on that. Also worth thinking about: this page is directly before the "beware bill!" one, and it's notably an "intro" type page. ) but it's not contradictory to my argument I believe.

In the end it's a tale of two narratives, and the one presented by Bill in his book is just too faulty!

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Dave Mustaine being the reader's stepfather and they fall in love and have sex (pet names, praise kink, size kink)

A/n: I wish this was longer bc I love this prompt so much for reasons that I should tell a therapist, I'm also assuming you meant grandma Dave but I just had this thought with 90's Dave, I think it could work no matter what era you think of it as that's just the era I had in mind while writing this <3

(I lied he must have stubble ☺️)

Warnings: Smut, age gap, riding, size kink, praise kink (kind of?), pet names, hints to oral (f receiving) but not explicitly stated or described, pantie stealing, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Your mom was young, she'd gotten pregnant with you when she was 19. She had a tendency to rush into relationships so when she told you she was moving the both of you into her boyfriends house you didn't think twice of it, you just got your stuff packed and kept it that way, sure that you'd be moving out in just a minute.

Your mom had a long list of partners, some were better than others but one rule remained the same. You wouldn't meet them until at least a year into the relationship, so you moved in with no idea who this man was, and you were pleasantly surprised with who you were met with.

Dave was, to say the least, fine. He was tall, at first glance distinguished and nice. He saw that you weren't big on talking with him so he didn't push you to do so, he let you hide away in your room as much as you needed.

The first week, anyway.

After the initial meeting he tried to get to know you better, he'd ask your mom about your favourite things so he could try to start conversations but it didn't seem to get him anywhere.

He honestly thought you hated him. You did too, but then you were in his lap.

It was late, you were just watching a movie on your laptop in bed when he came in. You weren't sure how you got naked, when you straddled his lap, it was a blur but suddenly he was inside you and your were bouncing on his length.

His big hands were on your hips, guiding you on his cock. Maybe it was the position or maybe it was your mind running laps but he seemed so much bigger than you, from the way he looked at you to how he bruised your insides.

"Oh, fuck, taking me so good, aren't you?" He mused, staring at you, right where he kept disappearing into you.

"Ngh, fuck, daddy~" You moaned, eyes rolling back. Your hands were on his shoulders, using him as support as you rode him.

"Go on, princess, you're doing so good for daddy, aren't you?" He praised. "Don't need any instructions, just needed permission to get off on me, didn't you?" You nodded, eagerly agreeing with him.

He was so fucking hot, his long hair reaching his perfectly perky nipples you had an oddly faint memory of licking, smudged lipstick covering his chest, those kind eyes and encouraging smile. Fuck, just everything.

"Daddy-daddy, m'close, 'm s'close." You whined, focusing more on your own pleasure and reaching down to rub your swollen and neglected clit.

"Look at you being a good girl and making herself feel good." He said with a smile. "Go on and cum on daddy's cock, hm? You can do that for me, princess, can't you?" Again you nodded.

You could feel your high approaching, it was so close yet so far out of reach. You kept bouncing on him, moaning as you felt the veins on his cock pulsing and dragging against your gummy walls, no matter how fuzzy everything became you had one goal. You could swear it was just there, that knot in your gut ready to snap but it stopped.

"Princess? C'mon, you can't sleep out here, princess." You heard. It was Dave's voice. He was crouched next to you as you lay on the couch, a movie set up in the TV but it must've ended after you fell asleep.

Dave had been shaking you trying to get you up. "It was a dream..." You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"Yeah, guess so." Dave said, pushing a few strands of your hair behind your ear. You couldn't believe it, all those feelings, those words, it was gone. Well, not really. It couldn't be gone because it was never technically there. "I came to get something to drink and heard you mumbling to yourself on the couch."

You froze and your eyes widened.

"I-I was..?" You asked nervously.

"Yeah, something about your 'daddy' needing to come..?" He asked. You stared at him, how could he be so oblivious? Thank God he was but how?

You spewed some bullshit about your 'dad' and he accepted that.

"Well, it's late, you should get to sleep. In your own bed, that is." He helped you up and kept an arm around you as he walked you back to your room.

There was a stinging between your thighs and you could've sworn you'd tied your sweats, they must've come undone while you slept.

Dave tucked you into bed and kissed your forehead, a strange wetness clinging to his stubble.

He got up and walked to the door but before he left he turned back to you. "By the way," he started and pulled a small piece of cloth out of his pocket, "I'm keeping these." He held your panties like a reward before he left, closing the door behind him.

[directdogman]

A large Milt post.

The funny thing about writing characters is that you often forget how little of them you've shown off. Milt's pretty detached from the plot (not even being explicitly mentioned in-game) so I guess it's fair to say that the audience doesn't really 'know' him well.

Given how much detail the audience knows about Crown's life during the war and immediately after it, it'd be interesting to mention a little bit about Milt's war history, especially since Crown's time during the war is pretty important to understanding a part of his character - why he was so dead-set on changing the world. Ironically, Milt's experiences were very different in a lot of ways, but wound up bringing him to the same place. This information would be obscure, but likely known to anyone who'd want to study him in DT's universe, so I guess there's no harm in mentioning some of it:

Milt was born into a more affluent family than Crown's and didn't face the same kind of nail-biting poverty that Crown did as a child. He was a Corporal (Acting Sgt) by the end of the war and had a distinguished record as a war hero. He was very well respected by those in his platoon, having a reputation for honesty, kindness and always following through on his word, no matter the circumstances. However, was also known to be someone you didn't wanna push around or back into a corner, as he was fiercely intelligent and very determined - not the sort of person you'd want to wrong.

He was a part of the DDay landings during the European campaign, an event he remembers as a terrifying and chaotic loss of life. Milt later rejected claims of his valor during the landing in the years following the war. After the fall of Berlin in mid 1945, Milt rejected the opportunity to remain in Europe as an occupying force (which was available to him because of his reputation/rank) in order to join the Pacific Theater. This was partially out of a sense of survivor's guilt (personally knowing many soldiers from his town who'd died in the campaign) and partly because he feared returning to relative peace and being alone with his thoughts again.

Milt's time in the Pacific Theater isn't nearly as well known due to how unwilling he was to talk about it to anyone, though he once opened up to Marla about it. Milt witnessed the destruction of Hiroshima from a distance, an event that's forever etched into his mind.

When Milt returned to the States, with a military scholarship, he decided to focus his efforts into trying to make the world a better place and began studying science. His dream was to develop a new form of irrigation that could terraform large swathes of land into farmland so the whole world could be fed. Due to his intelligence and determination in seeking his goal, he wound up taking to his work well. He took a keen interest in the new concept of the structure of DNA in particular, which was discovered in the early 1950's, believing that genetic modification could be used to create new forms of plant life that could feed vast amounts of people. Milt never ceased contact with his contacts from University, nor lost his love for science and the pursuit of a better world through the advancement of technology/science. But, most of all, he never abandoned his dream of making the world a better place, one where the horrors he'd witnessed as a younger man (such as mass human death, starvation and mass-chaos) could never happen again.

Shortly after graduating, he attended a political rally in Madison, Wisconsin and met a passionate public speaker/local business owner who'd change the course of his life forever. The rest is history.

[sanzu-sanzu-sanzu]

sae being a complete math nerd endears me. that guy is into numbers!!! 😩

i know it’s not explicitly stated he’s a nerd / math enthusiast lol (i mean what else could those numbers mean?!?) but just him being like more math-oriented or more inclined towards logic and problem-solving is just fun to think about. he could be casually reading an article on game theory like it’s the morning paper just because, or he could express interest in geometry and probabilities not because he likes math explicitly, but because he sees parallels between it and football, or i imagine a small, funny moment of sae casually winning a strategic game (like poker) because of his probability skills, leaving his teammates frustrated. (he cannot be doing all that so detachedly!)

this to me checks with the image i have of sae being this guy who’s so used to controlling outcomes on the field but struggling with vulnerability in personal relationships.

but then, also:

there’s also this thing about probabilities and numbers and math that’s still left to chance, right? that’s why they are called “probabilities.” i’m not so good at even the concept of it haha but i know there’s also something profoundly… “allow for loss of control” going on in math at that level…. i hope you get me hahaha. that no matter how precise the calculations, uncertainty remains. you can calculate the odds, but outcomes are still, to some extent, left to ‘chance.’

in the same way, sae’s personal growth could mirror this realization. “letting go of complete control” could be a key theme in his arc. just as math has to allow for degrees of freedom, he must learn that relationships can’t be navigated with precision or cold logic. there are no “right” answers in emotions, after all, only possibilities.

he might initially approach emotions with the same mindset he uses in football: analyze, calculate risks, and wait for the best moment. however, in time, he can learn that emotions aren’t something to solve—they need to be lived through, with all the uncertainty and vulnerability they bring.

so yes, sae being a little math nerd is special to me.

(this was a long-winded way of me saying sae needs to have a good time iykwim somebody please give him a good time)

[scoobydoodean]

y'know. a thought hit me about the whole john apologist discourse with sam and dean. john sacrificing his life to save dean was the best thing he could've done in sam's eyes and the worst thing he could've done in dean's eyes. and from there on, their respective forgiveness and bitterness grows. just thought you might find it interesting?

That's a great point. In looking at Sam's turnaround on John, I've looked more at a common trauma as the catalyst and the Stanford fight. Sam's feelings on his father start to shift in 1.02 when, after losing Jess, he suddenly shares a traumatic experience with his father almost play for play and is full of rage. He asks Dean brokenly how their father manages to handle the trauma. He suddently has an understanding of his father's pain that was explicitly absent in 1.01 on the bridge, when he said he didn't remember Mary and hadn't really lost anyone. Now he feels out of control and wonders how John even manages at all. But the big wound of the Stanford fight remains—how Sam thought John didn't love him and just saw him as an embarrassment. In 1.08, when he learns that John's actions were born out of fear, and that John had checked up on him periodically to make sure he was safe, his mood shifts and he outright says he wants to see John and apologize to him. I'm not one to say there's any excuse for John telling Sam never to come back, but I think for SAM, hearing his father show vulnerability and admit that he was afraid was important and needed—we can see how much it means to Sam to hear that John worried for him in 1.08 and 1.20. That certainly doesn't mean they don't butt heads though, as we see in 1.10, 1.11, 1.20, and 1.21. They're both so headstrong and they both want to be in charge—Sam spends all of 1.20 challenging John's authority, but then all of 1.22 (until the end when he sides with Dean) trying to enforce that authority in John's absence. As soon as they're in the same room again in 2.01, they're back to butting heads, but now Sam is furious on Dean's behalf, assuming that John doesn't care that Dean is dying. It's what their last ever fight is about, and it's absolutely vicious, and John very cruelly blames Sam for Dean's condition, and then... Sam tells him to go to hell. Which is a pretty mild insult, but it actually... happens—and because Sam had misjudged what John was up to, and thought he was summoning Yellow Eyes for another revenge plan... from Sam's perspective looking back, he got this whole thing so wrong. He was screaming at John for not caring about Dean when John was about to make the ultimate sacrifice to save Dean, and he told his father to "go to hell". What's more, even John's cruel words—blaming Sam for Dean's condition because it would all be over if Sam had just shot John when he had the chance—they reveal John's suicidality. We know explicitly that Sam regrets their last conversation being a fight (2.02) but I think a part of Sam thinks "If only I hadn't screamed. If only I hadn't picked a fight. If only I could have told him not to leave us, he could have looked for another way." Maybe it's even more than John sacrificing for Dean being a symbol of love, but Sam having so deeply misjudged John's intentions and not clocked his mental state. It leads Sam to reel back so far in guilt and regret that he arguably overcorrects, rewriting a lot of the things John did to be less traumatic than they were. This doesn't fully stop until 6.02, and even then, it's soulless Sam criticizing John, and quite arguably because he knows from their big fight in 4.19 that he can terrify Dean into coming with him by filling his head with fears about turning into their father.

But yeah! To Sam, dying for Dean is this ultimate proof that John loved them and that Sam was wrong about him, and he backpedals hard from being (in his mind) so wrong (and potentially feeding into John's suicidality, even though that isn't Sam's fault). Meanwhile, Dean is furious with his father for abandoning him with all the responsibilities, but he can't really grab onto that anger and process it because at the same time, he knows John did it because he actually does value Dean's life (something Dean was starting to question) and he's grieving and Sam is doing revisionist history and it all leaves Dean clammed up and silently seething and unable to process what any of it means. And that anger builds and builds and then in 3.10, he explodes, and then spends several seasons calling his father a worthless deadbeat before also cooling down some.

[messiahzzz]

You’re one of the most annoying people on this site. And that really says A LOT because WOW! Shut the Fuck up about Gale wanting to be a father or not. He never says that he doesn’t want to be one. You projecting things onto him doesn’t make it Canon.

on a serious note: i’m certainly not the one that continuously brings up this topic unprompted. i personally really don’t understand the entire controversy around the topic or why fandom feels the need to rehash this conversation almost weekly. i truly believe that there’s nothing more of value to learn from it, to address, or add to it… yet fandom won’t let it rest.

to once again clarify: what i mean by “gale wanting to be a father isn’t canon” is that there is no evidence/neither hints anywhere in any of the dialogue that support the contrary. characters like h*lsin, w*ll and la*’zel have entire adoption subplots. all of them mention their children explicitly during the epilogue:

narrator: *your soul warms thinking of lily aurora ravengard, your adopted daughter. a treasure of a girl, found at the entrance of the open hand temple - one grey eye, one brown.* w*ll: ah, the girl could melt the staunchest heart. she might even have brought a smile to old withers' face! w*ll: but tonight is for us - and lily's only four months of age, besides. i promise, the temple will keep her in good care.

player: and our little hatchling? is he safe? la*'zel: of course. i have complete trust in our newest allies. xan is in fine hands tonight. la*'zel: what a wonder he is. he will be a fine warrior, if he chooses. or a poet, or an explorer, or a scholar.

h*lsin: being away from it... i cannot help but worry how they will fare in our absence. player: we'll be back before they know it. h*lsin: i hope so. the children shall miss their bedtime tale tonight - though perhaps i can glean a few new stories from our friends here, to make up for it.

even shad*wh*art has a line where she briefly mentions that children might be a possibility for her in the future.

shad*wh*art: and i get to see my parents almost every day - i need to make every moment with them count, after so much was stolen from us. but they're doing well, [...] shad*wh*art: who knows? perhaps they'll have grandchildren before long.

gale in comparison? he has none of that. he remains childfree during the entirety of the game + epilogue. in fact, his line in the epilogue that addresses the topic of grandkids is this one:

tara: this is why mrs. dekarios and i will be waiting an eternity more for grandchildren. nodecontext: self-pitying gale: psst! shoo, tara. nodecontext: shooing away tara like one would a naughty cat.

i already wrote a post about this entire discourse here [x] but to repeat myself once more: all of the dialogue that vaguely addresses the topic of children in any way in regards to gale are these snippets

player: gale… how would you feel about having another person in our relationship? gale: what, like a child? i’m not quite sure i’d consider myself father material, plus our current lifestyle isn’t exactly what i’d call settled…

gale, upon spotting oliver during their game of hide and seek: ah, i have you! just a shame i don’t want you.

gale treating the children the group comes across with respect isn’t an indicator either. this is a courtesy gale extends to everyone he meets. he’s a character that approves of a protagonist who systematically commits good deeds. whether it’s sparing animals, helping without compensation in mind, or aiding children. wanting children to be cared for… and you know… for them not to die is common etiquette that every adult should extend to a child in need. those are not “dad goals!!!” it’s quite literally just basic human decency. gale is genuinely kind and caring to everyone he meets, there is no reason why this also wouldn’t apply to children.

i often see fandom mention his encounter with mol at last light and how excited he is to talk to her. which i think greatly misinterprets the context of the scenario since he didn’t have much of a reaction to mol before either — gale is ecstatic about lanceboard. again evident by his reaction to the party finding the life-sized board during the wyrmway trials, and how he immediately offers to give tav pointers. explaining different approaches to them in enthusiastic detail if they allow him to. the man just really likes lanceboard… as well as being the smartest person in the room.

gale: ah, lanceboard! why, this might just be the highlight of our misadventures to date.

gale: lanceboard happens to be a game with which i have more than a passing familiarity. might i offer a suggestion? nodecontext: gale's a badass lanceboard player, anticipating showing off

if you want to headcanon your tav and gale raising a big family together that is more than fine and no one is stopping you. whatever you want to happen to these two after the storyline of the game is up to your respective fantasies. no one is policing you on what you should do with your own character. go wild and create whatever fan content you wish, no justification required.

yet once again, as there is no mention in canon anywhere — neither in the main game nor the epilogue — that this is something gale would ever want (whether that may mean immediately or somewhere down the line) gale wanting to be a father remains a headcanon. while gale being childfree is explicitly shown in the game, in strict comparison to other companions that either have children by the end of the game or voice the desire to (eventually) have them.

my personal preferences are of no relevance here whatsoever. i care about accurate and correct characterization and will point out inconsistencies/false information no matter the topic. i, for one, want to appreciate these characters in the way they're written, not how i ideally want them to be.

[scryarchives]

OMG i just taught of this in my head its alright if ya dont wanna write it but NANAMI AS A FATHER HEADCANON cuz like man will be dedicsted to making sure his child has a goos life (and not be like gojo)

my masterlist !

✭ pairings: platonic - dad!nanami x daughter!reader

✭ warning: nanami's probably out of character, pure fluff, fem!reader

✭ word count: 1.2k words

HII OH MY GOSH, thank you for the ask!! okay so this is my first ever hc request and I ABSOLUTELY ADORE the idea of this!! I hardly ever write 'x reader' content, but I really might just start doing it for the platonic reqs! I really do think Nanamin would be the best dad ever, but Gojo would definitely be a great parent too considering that he does believe that children should be allowed to be happy without having their childhood taken away! Anyway, I've yapped enough, here are the Dad!Nanami Headcanons! Enjoy!

𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 | 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Dad!Nanami who:

✧ Raised the baby left on his doorstep, crying and swaddled in cloth with her heartbreaking screams of hunger and lack of love filled his ears. ✧ Instantly checked on her condition, considering the baby’s cries, he couldn’t tell if perhaps she was injured.  ✧ Once he figured out she was fine, he instantly rushed to the store with the baby in his arms, rushing through each aisle to hunt for baby food. ✧ Bought the food the moment he spotted it, adjusting her in his hold as he quickly paid for it, sitting on the ground outside to open the food and feed the starving child. ✧ Softens the moment he hears her cries stop, her big eyes staring up at him intently with her remaining tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.  ✧ Smiles a little the moment he sees how quickly she devours the baby food, showing how hungry she really is. ✧ Thought maybe parenthood isn’t as bad as it seems.

✧ Feels pride bubble up in his chest the moment she begins to walk, her smile wide as she wobbles towards him, his arms wide open as he speaks to her with soft encouragement, “That’s it, step by step.” ✧ Scoops her up into a big hug the moment she’s a few inches away from her, her little giggles of amusement bringing her so much joy. ✧ Doesn’t mind doodling silly little things with her, scribbling down on a paper whatever she asks, as long as it’s after work hours, despite his urge to bend the rules for his little girl. ✧ Brings her to work as long as he’s not on a mission (because really, who in the right mind would put such a precious being in harm’s way?), just to make sure that she’s safe and sound. At least she’s with him, and he can keep an eye on her. ✧ Knows he can trust his baby girl with Gojo’s students when he needs to go on a mission, and never Gojo, even if Fushiguro did turn out the way he did under Gojo’s care. ✧ Would make the three teens promise not to let Gojo within a five-foot radius of his little daughter because he knows it would mean nothing but trouble (who knows what really goes on behind those blindfolded, blank eyes.) ✧ Is nothing but touched to see how the three students cared for his little girl so carefully, seeing her resting on Itadori’s chest as they sleep on the couch with the hushed noises of children’s cartoons in the background from the TV. ✧ Tucks her away before gently placing a warm blanket over the three students who he clearly cared for (he’s never explicitly said so, but they all know it). He’s nothing short of grateful for their help babysitting the precious little girl in his life, and he sees her as his own, not caring for the fact that she was just left on his doorstep. He can’t wait to see her grow.

✧ Tears up a little behind his glasses as he drops her off for her first day at preschool, his face stoic as ever as he wonders where all the time went as he watches her skip off to class, waving goodbye to him. ✧ Wishes that time would slow down just for a while so he could read her bedtime stories and notice the tiny things she does to try and make his day easier. Always his little helper, she was. ✧ Can’t wait to pick her up, packing up fifteen minutes earlier from work just to collect her on time, turning to Gojo with a glare as the white-haired man smirks, entertained to see his junior so caring and paternal. ✧ Arrives at her preschool just a minute early, waiting at the school’s gates as he hears the bell ring, the cheers of other kids rushing out like water from a broken dam. His eyes immediately rush to find her tiny figure, and he bends down, recognising the top of her head through the sea of children. ✧ Listens to every little thing she tells him, from what she saw in the class to the friends she made – even the tiny ants she saw at the playground during recess. ✧ Smiles the moment he sees the drawing she did in class of a poorly-drawn him and herself (he doesn’t mind it one bit), just proud to have been involved in her growth. ✧ Frames the drawing instantly, and though it’s a little big, it sits on his bedside table, right next to his wristwatch and glasses. ✧ Has no hesitation to put aside whatever housework the moment she asks for help with homework – math specifically. ✧ Is as patient as he can be, explaining the basics clearer for his precious daughter to understand, helping her with the first bit before letting her try it out on her own. He’s positively glowing with pride when he checks through her homework, finding it all done correctly. ✧ Ruffles her hair as she grins with a laugh as he gives her his rare words of encouragement, “Great work, kiddo.” ✧ Sees her with a gold star sticker her homework the next day as she runs to him after school, her maths worksheet waving in the air as she jumps into his arms. ✧ Is nothing but satisfied to see her beaming with pride at her efforts, and relieved to know that he’s doing a good job so far.

✧ Finds himself stuck, struggling to explain where her mother is as she peers curiously up at him, his daughter now up to his hip. ✧ She’s grown again, and her increased height followed her curiosity as she asked more questions, and noticed more things – well in this case, the lack thereof. ✧ He simply replied with a, “It’s always been you and I.” Relief fills him the moment he sees a nod in understanding, but the thought keeps him awake at night. Eventually, he’ll have to explain, it’s always the hardest thing to find out how to do it. ✧ Finds out why she asked as he spots a little worksheet on her desk, his brown eyes widening as he recognises it as a family tree. ✧ Two of the slots are filled, but the rest remain blank, and he feels nothing but pity, a sigh escaping him as he picks up the sheet of paper. ✧ Plans to tell his daughter everything that night, preparing her favourite dishes and desserts, but his nerves are getting to him, resulting in a tense silence as he sits at the dining table, waiting for her to finish her shower. ✧ Notices the moment passes as she sits down, digging into her meal as he clears his throat, finally finding it in him to speak. ✧ Watches every twitch of her eyelid as she blinks, waiting for some sort of reaction from her, hoping that she’d take it well. He’s not sure of what he’d do if it all went south. ✧ Is silent by the end of the explanation, waiting, gauging for her voice to say something, but all he can see are her big eyes staring at him. ✧ Is caught off guard when she says, “I don’t need any other family, because I have you, Dad. I don’t care if I’m adopted or not, you’ll always be my dad.” ✧ Feels his eyes water, his arms spreading open to pull her into a hug. It’s uncharacteristic of him, but for her, he wouldn’t care. She’s his daughter, his little girl, not bound by blood but by bond. ✧ Would want nothing more than to hold her in his arms, wishing to protect her from every little bit of harm because that’s what you do with things you adore, with the things you treasure – and she’s everything to him, his baby girl.

taglist: @mooncleaver @underwateredwrld @mcmisbehaving @neteyamrealgf @khany2026 @tinkerbelle05 @iheartamajiki @sad-darksoul @yunymphs @cindol @rrairey @cheriiyaya @yurislotusgarden @kesshavx

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[boybeholding]

had to scrap the original post because i fat fingered and posted too early 😔 but in any case, my pleasure anon!! and tysm for the request, queer requests are my favorite!! I'll just be doing Donnie for this post, but keep your eye out for a separate post for Leo :3

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Rise Donnie + Nonbinary Reader content warnings: misgendering

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Donnie wasn't particularly surprised.

It's not like he could explicitly tell, mind you, but neither of the two of you had ever cared much for restrictive labels; and this was true in both your relationship and your personal identities.

That wasn't to say you didn't care for any labels. Donnie took a lot of pride in the ones he chose for himself. It made it that much more heartfelt, when he finally regarded himself as your partner. It was so deliberate of him.

And it... sounded so much better, than boyfriend or girlfriend. You liked being partners.

It was only after his family took to incessantly calling you two boyfriend and....

ugh. It made your stomach revolt just thinking about it; having the term ascribed to you and him. It just wasn't right.

It was only then in the moment of dysphoria that you realized the nature of your identity clearly enough to tell Donnie about it.

"would you still date me if I used different pronouns?"

He looked down at you, where your head had been thrown into his lap.

"we're dating?" He lifted his goggles, a brow cocked upwards in your direction. You grabbed his face in both hands.

"Quit dodging the question."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not sure how that would affect me or our relationship. Just send me the full set... Or sets. I've gotta edit some things."

That was that. No questions. No fuss.

...Maybe a part of you was disappointed there wasn't... y'know, more. But Donnie's means of showing support were unconventional. His nonchalance was far more a good sign than a bad one.

You were naturally oblivious to the lengths he went to at home to get everyone on the same page. It was a quick turn-around, seeing as Shelldon was keeping a mic out for him.

That's not to say a single one of them wouldn't be supportive. But they were... forgetful.

Lucky you, your partner was very proficient at reminding them. By the next time you came to the lair, it was "(deadname) who?"

"You didn't have to tell them for me," you huffed at him when you finally retired to his lab.

"I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about," he yawned, trying too hard to feign nonchalance and wrapping right back around to being obvious. "you're just so androgynous, they must've figured it out on their own."

"Your family couldn't figure their way out of a cardboard box," you squinted at him.

"I know, right? Just goes to show how obvious it is, I suppose."

You tried to fight the smile, smothering it with your hand as your brows remain furrowed.

You leaned over, nudging your head into his arm affectionately. A silent exchange of affection passed between you two as he nudged you in turn.

"shut up."

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 20.

Summary: The evening of the Arts Collective dinner somehow gets even worse for you as Farleigh gives you some unfortunate news about Oliver and Venetia and their moonlight exploits. The worst part is having to figure out a way to break the news to Felix.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood/ongoing parental neglect.

A/N: 3729 words. I finally cracked it!! Figured out the ending!! Sorry for the delay I was busy writing 20k about Jacob Elordi being hot and mean which I will never publish (Euphoria, a show I STILL have not watched beyond like 20 minutes of clips on YouTube lol). Anyways I've missed you and these characters and hopefully 21 won't be too far away xx (also I started my new job so that's been exciting but also Ooft ouch my bones hurt)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

For a day that was already pretty damn shit, Oliver's cruelty was like salt in the wound. Hand still on the doorknob after you close it, you listen to him retreating over the ringing in your ears. If you let go, you'll see your hands shake, so you're frozen, heart in your throat, the house growing quiet around you. It's familiar, but unwelcome in this moment.

Tears well in your eyes as you sit back at the desk, computer humming pleasantly, bathing you in a cool glow. Part of you was desperate to run after him, to oblige him, to reveal every inch of your past and soul to him, hoping he was true to his word. That he could actually care about you in a way that very few have ever bothered to. That he could love you the way Felix did.

I don't know you.

An even stronger part of you wanted to run right across the hall, to bury yourself beneath the covers of your bed, safe and waiting for Felix. Surely he'd be back soon, if Oliver's return indicated anything. You hadn't heard him return, but it wouldn't be long. But how were you meant to look at him, lie next to him, even touch him, after all of that. It had been easy to bite your tongue on your disappointment so far, knowing that like so many others, Oliver's love for you thus far had been merely as a proxy for Felix himself. You knew Felix was vaguely aware that that was how others sometimes viewed you, but you'd always been eager to assure him that as long as he genuinely cared about you, and the others were good to you, you'd be more than happy.

And that used to be true. But none of the others were Oliver. Felix knew you loved the boy just as genuinely as he was coming to, you could never tell him that your affections were not as genuinely returned.

Your pride held you hostage in this room on both accounts.

When you finally raise your head from your hands, scrubbing unspilled tears from your eyes, you try and focus yourself once more on rereading the email that had already put you in a foul mood before Oliver had made it worse. It had taken all afternoon to detach yourself from it's contents, especially knowing your mother was waltzing about the grounds, spoiling your sanctuary.

The details of an official nondisclosure agreement, sent from your parents' team of lawyers. The paperwork was to arrive in the next few days, but you were being warned ahead of time. Before Oliver had interrupted, you were finally getting to the point of finding it all funny, that they were that insistent on cutting social ties with you that they'd go to almost any lengths that remained discrete, and out of the general public's reach. Now it just... ached.

Felix's heavy footsteps echo through the long gallery outside your study door, but he heads straight into bed. You wonder if it's even worth it to head to bed that night, you can't see yourself getting much sleep.

Now mostly, tragically, sober after you'd spent the afternoon trying to get out of your mind to cope with the day, you wonder if a drink would help put you to sleep, put an end to this abysmal day you'd endured. Which is how Farleigh finds you in the Blue Room, frowning at the bottle of liquor you'd left in the broken piano.

"You're up late," you mused flatly, still trying to decide if it was worth it to drink until you pass out in your study, "how was the -"

"We need to talk," Farleigh's tone is even more irate than you'd expected. Neither he nor the Catton siblings were ever in a particularly bright mood after being forced into any kind of proximity with your mother, and you were always touched by their loyalty, but this was something else.

You lower the piano lid, leaving the liquor for the time being. Turning to look at Farleigh, it's almost shocking to see how dark the look in his eyes was.

"What... happened?" You asked slowly. Farleigh's gaze flicks to the door behind you, to the long gallery and to the entrance to both yours and Oliver's bedrooms. Prying eyes, listening ears, though you were almost certain you'd heard Oliver leave not too long ago. A muscle in Farleigh's jaw twitches, and you instead offer your study for some privacy.

"You're not going to like it," is the first thing Farleigh tells you once the study door is closed. He sounds furious. Turning off your computer monitor, you choose to sit yourself on the sofa by the window, looking at him expectantly.

"This day's been a fucking nightmare already, I'm sure I can handle it," you rolled your eyes. Farleigh, however, chooses to sit at your desk, sideways on the chair, rather than joining you.

"You told Oliver not to fuck around with Venetia, didn't you?" It's unsettling to see Farleigh so serious. Still, his words have something twisting in your gut, even as you tried to play it off.

"Of course I did."

"Then tell me why I saw them practically eating each other on the front fucking lawn."

It's like you can feel the moment your blood turns to ice in your veins.

"This isn't funny," your lip curls, but Farleigh's severity remains, "this is a sick fucking joke, Farleigh, and a shitty thing to try and pull today of all goddamn days," your voice is rising, but he lets your fury build, uninterrupted.

"It would be an awful joke," he agreed, "if I was joking." All of the hopelessness that had plagued you since Oliver had left began to crystalise, calcifying into rage as his words settled in, "I don't care about Oliver," Farleigh's gaze shifted for a moment, still tense and furious, but there was something very nearly apologetic in his next words, "but unfortunately for me and for you right now, I care about you and Felix."

"Felix." Oh God. This couldn't be happening again. You'd told Oliver; you'd warned him. The fucking nerve!

"Yeah," Farleigh mutters quietly, "and you're going to be the one to tell him." When you try and protest, you're met with a sharp glare, and a stern reminder of how this exact situation had been reversed only twelve months ago over Eddie, "I'm not doing that again," Farleigh warned, "you owe me."

"Fine," you spit, "fuck, I'll tell him," hands shaking, you light up a cigarette. Farleigh stands, but hovers by your desk for a moment.

"He really knows how to pick them," He muses flatly.

"Shocking taste in men," scowling our of the window, your agreement is nonetheless irate, "fucking unbelievable," you hissed under your breath, "and he thinks there's something wrong with me?"

"There is," Farleigh's words surprise you, stinging a little, all things considered, "you fell for that stupid, little boy too," he reminds with a particularly vicious look.

"So it's my fault I have to break Felix's heart?"

"I'm saying that you've given me a lot of attitude for not liking him, but Oliver wouldn't even be here without both of you."

"Get the fuck out of my study, Farleigh," you order, pointing at the door, cigarette in hand and fury in your eyes.

The anger bubbling in your gut is beginning to burn. A thousand things are racing through your mind; top of the list is wondering just how quickly you make sure he's never welcomed back at Oxford. All you'd need was your computer and an hour to ruin Oliver Quick's entire life; you'd done it before. But if you turned that monitor on, if you had to once again look at that fucking email from your family - not even your family, their lawyers! - you think you might throw up. Tomorrow, with a clear head, you'd make your move.

And you'd tell Felix. No need to wake him now, give him a few hours to still live in the fantasy where the boy he was falling in love with wasn't once again going after his sister. Fuck- Venetia.

The more you thought about it all the more frenzied your outrage became. She wasn't innocent in this either, she never was. Venetia Catton was more than adept at finding both yours and her brother's exact pressure points and pressing with vehemence. So desperate to be loved yet so unable to come across as anything but insatiable, she'd always taken what she could get. You were good, but clearly you weren't enough to distract her from new, shiny Oliver.

The taste of smoke sticks to your teeth, as does your sour contemplation on how little the people you tried to love respected you. Or Felix. Christ, how were you meant to tell Felix?

Except you can't even really begin to contemplate how you'll break the news when you hear footsteps across the gallery.

Felix doesn't even knock - not that he ever has - before he lets himself in. You thought you'd have more time; the anger still burns white-hot inside of you, but despair and guilt flickers at the edges. He looks about as rough as you feel, concern and ebbing irritation in his expression. Of course, he'd spent the evening in the presence of your mother; none of the others ever felt nearly as much ire in her presence as he did.

Without a word, he strides across the room, all but pouting, and throws himself onto the sofa beside you. Drawing his legs up onto the sofa, he makes himself as small as possible - quite a task considering his size compared to the small, squashy sofa - and leans against you, head on your shoulder.

"Hate that woman," he hisses under his breath. You know he means your mother, but your mind is on his deceitful sister. All you can think about is Venetia and Oliver, but you can't very well tell Felix now. You don't have the words to not make everything so much worse if you tried. Already you'd decided to tell him in the morning, but right now you had to keep him from figuring out what was bothering you. Or that you were bothered at all.

So you decide to take a leaf out of Felix's own book, keep him happy and distracted in the way you knew best.

"Bad night?" Your voice is low as you move your arm back, fingers carding through his hair. The way Felix hums is still dark, but he shifts closer to you. After another moment of quiet, he huffs an irate breath out through his nose and begins to pluck at the hem of your shorts.

"Can I maim your mum the next time I see her?"

"She's not worth going to jail over," you tell him, leg shifting into his touch. Felix's hand stops fussing with your shorts to grip your thigh.

"You are," he huffs resolutely, and even despite your own anger you smile.

"My knight in shining armour," you laugh softly, lips against his forehead, "but do you really want to be so far away?" Leaning back against him, your hand moves from his hair to graze your nails down his bare arm, hoping he takes the hint. Thankfully, he does. The warm grip on your thigh tightens, and when he turns to look at you, there's something hungry in his eyes, "she's not worth your time, Fi," it comes out almost as a snarl, a truth you believe even in the depths of your own, otherwise mostly unrelated anger, but you turn your tone teasing, smirking at him, "I just choose to think about how I was apparently on your mind all night."

"I'm always thinking about you," he almost sounds a little breathless as he says it, managing to sit up more properly without moving away. You let your gaze flick to his lips before going back to look him in the eyes. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you tilt your head very slightly, beginning to smile.

"And what are you think about me now?"

You'd always quietly loved whenever Felix was feeling possessive, and now moreso than ever. It made distracting him easy and fun, and Felix himself, his hands as he pulled you over to straddle his lap, to hold you close, to cradle your face as he kissed you so furiously, it was almost enough to distract you too. In all honesty, it was the only good thing to have happened all day, though even this was coloured by guilt, knowing what you still had to tell him when you found the right words.

However suddenly, Felix pulls back wearing a frown. For a few moments you find yourself catching your breath, confused, arms still around his neck.

"Something's wrong," it's not a question.

"Nothing's wrong," you lie, and hope it's more convincing them his usually are, "nothing at all," you hum, and move back in to press kisses to his jaw, hoping it's enough of a distraction to trail those kisses down his neck.

"You're angry about something," damn it. Of course Felix knows you too well.

"Am I?" You want to keep the ruse up for as long as you can manage, "and what would that be?" You murmured before you're sucking a beautiful, bruising hickey against his neck.

"I don't -" but his breath catches, grip on you tightening. It almost works; he swears faintly under his breath, losing himself in the moment and leaning into you, but then he actually seems to shake himself out of it, "come off it," he sighs, and you sit up, trying your best to appear both confused, and still in the mood, "if I'm not allowed to do this, neither are you." He says pointedly. Even though you're fighting a losing battle, you still lean in, still try and distract him with your mouth on his.

"Do what?" You murmur, nose to nose as you peck him quickly, desperately trying to keep your tone light and teasing. But you can see it in his eyes before he even says it; he knows exactly what you're doing.

"Distracting me because you know how fucking hot I think you are."

"And if I was," you murmured, pressing yourself against him, "why would that be such a bad thing?"

"Because you're being evasive," Felix pushed you back, held you at arm's length as your expression began to drop, fury beginning to creep back in as you remembered what exactly it is you didn't want to tell him, "you're not evasive with me;" he insists, "everyone else, sure, but this - whatever this is - is.. it's- it feels weird. This isn't you!"

"What am I then, Felix?"

"Mine!" He answered far too quickly, frustration sling out of him, but appears to catch himself, correcting to, "my best mate, alright? You don't not tell me things."

"So if there is something I'm not telling you, can you not trust that I might have a reason?" Finally your anger bursts from you, furious in the evening light. Felix has gone quiet, shocked; it's been a long time since you'd yelled at him like this. He looks wounded, apologetic, something you're not used to. Climbing off of him, you stand, you have to give yourself some distance from him, "there's a lot I don't tell you, Fi," you sighed, expression pinching as you tried to force yourself to calm down.

"You can tell me anything," Felix's voice has softened, leaning forward on the sofa. It aches to look at him, to see him so beautiful and vulnerable in these moments, "you know that."

"I know," you agreed, "it's not that I can't tell you, it's that I don't want to," you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, groaning; you can't look him in the eyes, can't even look at him right now, "and I will, that's the thing; I'm going to tell you, you're right, I always do, I just -" in a moment of weakness, your voice comes out almost sounding pitiful, defeated and frustrated, "I thought I had more time."

"What's wrong?" Felix asks softly. When you laugh, there's no humour in it. The more the reality of your situation sinks in, the more the fight leaves you.

"It's going to make you angry, or upset, or probably both," you sound rather helpless when you say it, but it seems like you no longer have a choice in when you get to tell him.

"Is it your mum?"

"I wish it was my mum," you shook your head, finally moving your hands to shake them out as you stepped back, leaning back against your desk with defeat. With every moment that passes you can feel Felix's gaze upon you, burning into you. When you are upset, he will never relent until he finds the source; usually it would be a gift, make you feel wanted and special and like you actually mattered for once. But this knowledge feels like a curse.

"We could run away," it's a last resort, barely more than a mutter as you look at your hands.

"What?"

"Just us," you continue, fidgeting, unable to look at Felix and the concern you knew you'd see in his eyes, "I could get us a little apartment in some artsy, London suburb," it's not going to work, not going to distract him, to keep him from prying the information from you that you know will hurt him, but it's all you have left, "you know nan would help us out, she'd kill for me. We could do whatever we wanted, never have to work a day in our lives. We could be whoever we wanted, wouldn't have to live in a house where they'd rather we die of heat stroke than ruin the wood panelling with an air conditioner," all you can think about is how you fell for a boy who didn't love you the way you hoped he would, and turned out couldn't even really respect you, "never have to go back to Oxford."

"What happened?" Standing, Felix crosses the short distance to your desk. There's so much sweetness in his voice as he sits in the desk chair beside you, looking up at you with his damn perfect brown eyes.

"I can't let this happen again, Fi," you hadn't even realised you were close to tears until it becomes harder to speak, "I tried, I fucking tried, I told him -"

"Who?"

"Ollie," you sniffled, face growing hot as you couldn't stop your tears from beginning to fall, "I warned him not to go near Venetia- I just- I can't believe she'd do this again, that Ollie couldn't respect when I ask him this one thing -"

"Ollie and Venetia?" There's an unsettling, blank quality to Felix's voice. The look in his eyes is far away and ice cold.

"Apparently hooking up on the front lawn," you clarified, voice weak, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, derision edging it's way back into your voice as some of the anger returns, "for God, and Farleigh to bare witness," you took in a deep, shaking breath, attempting to pull yourself together, "I tried, Fi -"

"Fucking unbelievable," Felix snarls furiously, getting to his feet, "both of them- fuck, was Farleigh sure? He wasn't making some sick joke?"

"Even Farleigh wouldn't fuck with us like that," you muttered darkly, before adding, quiet, sounding actually pained with frustration, "I've been nothing but good to them, Fi, I thought -"

"You are never touching my sister again," Felix cuts you off firmly, voice forcibly calm. Surprised both by his tone and his words, you look up; he's so much closer than you'd realised The look in your best friend's eyes almost overwhelms you; protective, possessive, "I'm not watching her treat you like that anymore," he braces himself against the desk either side of you, crowding you against it.

"Fi," your barely manage a whisper, heartbeat racing in your chest, "I..." for just a moment he looks almost pained, and he hangs his head, faint, humourless laugh escaping him.

"I have to watch you fuck around with people who would barely give you the time of day; you're so fucking good it kills me sometimes," he bites out; you can't tell him that you know they're just using you, that so many people simply entertain the idea of you as a way to stay in Felix's life. Even if he'd never admit it, Felix knows. There's very little in his life that he's ever felt the need to reflect on, and even less that he feels any particular guilt about. You used to think he was fine with this arrangement, that he knew you could find the fun in these one-sided dynamics, "they're fucking using you," he grits out, but you're surprised by the way his fury almost sounds like despair, "I watch them and they're fucking using you like you're not even a person, Y/N."

Felix looks up; the looks in his eyes is more serious than you think you've ever seen from him. Deliberately, firmly, he takes your face in his hands.

"You're not my shadow, you know that, right?"

For a very long moment, you think you feel your heartbeat stop in your chest. On the surface it's a completely ridiculous question, except...

Feeling your face grow hot, you know he can see you tearing up; Felix has always known you better than anyone, always known exactly what you seem to need to hear. Nodding weakly, caught, pinned by his intense gaze, his focus on you, your lip trembles. Already fraught with emotions from the day, and the evening that had just passed, you have no fucking idea what to say. Felix has never spoken this out loud, never let himself properly wrestle with the subtext that coloured so much of your dynamic; it flickers across his face, the surprise and guilt and realisation as it hits him what he'd just said.

You are so much more to him than anyone else will ever give you credit for.

You are not his shadow, but you are unequivocally his.

So you kiss him.