#but then i realized it was going to be longer than the other one

[nilboxes]

The Philosophy of Dr Ratio (Existentialism) and Aventurine (Absurdism)

Philosophy is a highly broad and complicated topic, these are just my interpretations, and I tried my best to make it as clear and concise as possible and to string them back into how it relates to the characters/events of the games.

Dr Ratio, Nihilism, Abandonment by God, Burden of Freedom (Heidegger, Sartre) 

I imagine Ratio’s homeworld prizes knowledge/learning a lot, and naturally because of his intelligence, he was expected to join the ranks of the genius society. Except despite all his achievements even as a young man, Ratio has not earned the gaze. 

When he was not acknowledged even at the height of his supposed success in his erudition and instead was handed a letter from the IPC, it is safe to say Ratio then felt “abandoned” by his purpose (in and relating to Nous) and despite seeking them and their favor. This feeling of abandonment (Heidegger, Existential Abandonment) goes hand in hand with the sudden and unwanted freedom from purpose (Sartre).

Suddenly without purpose, one is shoved into a state of pure freedom. This state of super freedom could be very daunting as the individual who is burdened by this freedom *must* carve a path of their own, or face meaninglessness (Sartre). And as a person who is condemned to this freedom, they must choose for themselves, be responsible for themselves and even the act of not choosing is a choice.

“God is dead” for Ratio, whose purpose (the path of Erudition) has refused him. Not dead in a literal sense, but the relevance of the god and the path that god treads is no longer relevant to Ratio. 

Those old beliefs of scholarly pursuits above all ultimately no longer hold significance to Ratio. He is thus bereft of a predetermined, outlined purpose (Nous’ brand of scholarship) and has to define for himself now what his purpose/existence/meaning must be (again, burden of freedom as outlined by Sartre).

During this, he also realizes how this path does not serve others either and that the Genius’ Societies pursuits are inherently self-serving rather than providing betterment for humanity. Thus again “God is dead”— the established “morality” is not relevant to the reality of the world at present, the “God” is not serving the needs of the world at large (Nietzche).

This is undoubtedly a difficult process. To spend one’s life devoted to a particular framework of belief and to be snubbed by it. So then what happens next, and where does one go from here?

Dr Ratio, the Ubermench and the Will to Power (Nietzche) but Tempered by Universality (Kant)

To be without “God” (ie, higher purpose, predetermined meaning) is to be left with an inexplicably wide freedom that is more terrifying than comforting (Sarte). Without the anchor of acknowledgement and assurance that one’s path is “correct” one now must define for themselves what is the optimal path, and what they define on their own as the greatest good (one’s own morality as defined by Nietzche).

Finding enlightenment (realizing/acknowledging his own potential outside of the gaze of god and adopting the mindset of the ubermench), Ratio doubles down on his humanitarian beliefs that knowledge must serve the betterment of individuals (Kant). To be equipped to think for themselves and be responsible for themselves as they go through life’s challenges and seizes control of their own destinies rather than go along with them (as he did himself). Ultimately, they strive and become the best version of themselves (to become the ubermench).

Dr Ratio asserts “the will to power” (Nietzche) exists in every individual, recognizing potential and capability residing in every person. Hence he is an educator, he believes he can help people reach this potential. One does not need to be a “genius” in order to excel and in order to create good and meaning in the world. One simply has to be equipped with the knowledge and have that will to apply that knowledge and themselves (ie, not being ‘stupid’) for their betterment and then the betterment of all.

Dr Ratio and Universality, Humanity as an End (Kant) 

Dr Ratio believes first and foremost in helping others help themselves more than uncovering knowledge for its sake alone, therefore he believes that the knowledge uncovered must serve a purpose for good rather than be uncovered simply because, thereby adhering to the concept of Humanity as an “End” or rather the goal, rather than knowledge being the end/goal. This key difference is what sets him apart from the geniuses in the Genius Society, who mostly view knowledge as the end all and be all of their pursuits, Ratio asks what and who it can be for.

This idea is what tempers all of Ratio’s beliefs. Undoubtedly the concept of an ubermench may veer towards seeing one’s self as the shepherd of the weak, being domineering and assertive, Ratio instead asserts that one should strive to better themselves than wait around to be saved or to be ruled by their betters—the geniuses, or others. He genuinely believes in the individual’s capability to think for themselves, to contribute good into the world and thus guide themselves into each individual’s ideal/their potential.

Aventurine and Absurdism (Camus)

Aventurine struggles for meaning in his life, marked by seemingly random and senseless wins because of his “luck” he surely struggles with finding any sort of rationale for his own continued survival—but there is none to be had. This is the core of the absurdism in Aventurine, the senselessness and the indifference of the universe to his feelings and his desires, to use his luck for the benefit of his loved ones, as opposed to the reality of it as his luck merely served himself, sometimes dubiously, to propel him to heights of success that has no meaning because those he strove for this purpose is gone. This is the core of the idea of the absurd, the purposelessness of his circumstances.

To further demonstrate the absurd Philosopher Albert Camus presents to “The Myth of Sisyphus” a man who is condemned by the gods to push a boulder up a hill, and when he almost reaches the top, the boulder returns to the bottom and Sisyphus must roll it all back up again. There is no purpose to this act other than it is done, like Aventurine’s endeavors in the IPC, there is no purpose to his victories, save that he has done it at all. There is no inherent meaning, and this is how he further contemplates the absurd.

To face the absurd/the meaninglessness, Aventurine first arrives at the answer of self-deletion. He does not succeed due to his luck however. And, when he arrives at the crossroads to be able to fulfill this wish or not, Aventurine evidently realizes that exiting from the world does not answer the questions presented by absurdism (as he doesn't choose this in the end) because it is merely a “give up” state, to end one’s meaningless life is not the answer to its emptiness at all. If there is no destination to be had in one’s journey, stopping the journey may be one of the solutions, but it doesn’t lend it an answer, it is not anything but an end.

Therefore as Sisyphus is condemned to push the boulder up and down again, a task that does not contribute anything to greater causes or anything but instead of despairing and/or creating one’s meaning, the story asks readers to imagine Sisyphus happy, to revel in the meaninglessness and eschew having to have meaning in order to be fulfilled altogether, effectively walking towards and embracing the meaninglessness.

The game never fully explores what conclusion Aventurine arrives at, yet at the end of 2.2 he decides to go on (with a little nudge here and there) even without getting the answers he seeks. He asks “Are we living just to die?” and perhaps through his journey arrives at a little conclusion that one lives to live, and to simply go on is enough and thus begins a bit of his philosophical indifference—that nothing ultimately matters and that is beginning to be just sufficient enough of an answer. 

Aventio as Philosophical Parallels

Ratio’s philosophy is all about discipline and creativity, shaping one’s own values and living a fulfilled life through them. There is a rigidity in this way of thinking that meaning must be made and pursued because it is out there. And he can take away meaning from it with as much as he wants, because he is actively shaping this meaning. It fits his character as someone who always stands apart and walks a lonely path. 

Aventurine’s extrapolated path in the absurd on the other hand ultimately frees him from any shackles to meaning that he so desperately wants and thus the concept of values will also be thrown away. A person who embraces this supreme indifference is also inextricably free from anything and thus exists in a state of chaos, living for the moment and living simply for living. Fitting for a man who sees himself in a gilded cage.

Each individual character represents an answer to difficult questions about existence itself, and there is no real right or wrong way to go about it. 

I doubt the intricacies of their situations with their aligned philosophies will be fully explored in the game itself so I like to think despite Ratio being a teacher, and thus would pull Aventurine into his brand of dealing with existential crisis, he also recognizes that students must come to a conclusion on their own and when he realizes which conclusion Aventurine has come to, would be approving, but also somehow reel him back in from exercising too much of the value-lessness of the absurd. (In 2.3 he is shown expressing some concern about Aventurine being on this path, to be so free and so uncaring as to begin to be not exactly a conscious being any longer) 

While in Aventurine’s case, he can also be the teacher in this regard and open a new path to Ratio where he can appreciate the vastness of the freedom he has, and imagine himself happy to be in this position, ultimately purposeless and futile as it is in the grander scheme of things, but meaningful to himself.

This has been very long, but I just wanted to outline and share a little about the many ways Aventurine and Dr Ratio are built and written to complement each other in the ways their characters were built up at least in a philosophical sense. I really may have missed a bunch of stuff, but I hope the gist is there!

These videos helped me a lot regarding Camus—

Why shouldn't we commit suicide? - 8bit Philosophy

How to live in a meaningless world - Unsolicited advice

[pedge-page]

Mother Who Indulges

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Joel’s found other means to get his favorite snack. But he’s bad at hiding the evidence taking form on his own body.

Can be read as sequel to Mother Who Provides or on its own.

Warnings: Fat!Joel, Sub! Joel, breastfeeding, lactation kink, feedee/feeder, burping, belly worship, belly button licking, gluttony, riding, vaginial fingering, m! Masturbation, forced feeding, hands free ejaculation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pie, switch dynamic at the end, Mommy and brief Daddy kink, nipple play for Joel, derogatory names such as cow or hog (towards Joel)

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Your husband was never a closet eater. 

Joel was someone who enjoyed food in the company of others. Never saw it as anything more than fuel for the body, only ate when he needed it. Sure, he wouldn’t turn down a soda and a bag of chips every blue moon, but the amount of physical labor he does at his job always combats any minimal amount of snacking he does. He’s always been in perfect, lovable shape. Not shredded abs by any means, but he had just the right strength to carry you bridal style, just the right softness to cuddle up against him like a warm pillow.

Or at least, he used to.

You started to notice it after the 6 month mark of brining your baby home. As you very slowly lost a few pounds of post partum weight, Joel seemingly started to gain them—a couple dozen of them. And it was … odd. 

He didn’t go out to eat—the man preferred a home cook meal and saving a few bucks where he could. There also weren’t any suspicious amounts of extra processed snacks coming into the house. And it’s not like Joel was slacking off on the construction site by any means. And yet, you noticed it when he started huffing just to get his once baggy jeans over his thickened belly. Or the way his shirts stretched a little tighter over his chest. Or the extra grunts after any regular amount of food. 

The only real change was that 10-month old Sarah had started refusing pre-bagged bottle milk. The little thing ONLY wanted mama’s nana’s straight from the tap. And that meant Joel’s little breastfeeding habits had to go on pause so that your baby would actually eat.

“Picky little thing,” he grumbled with folded arms as your baby sucked away happily at your breasts, all wrapped up snugly in your arms. You could see the distain in his face—the idea that Sarah was no longer going to “share” your perky tits and even more delectable breastmilk. You were a full blown cow utter live and on demand when Sarah needed it.

You only laugh. “It’s all meant for the baby anyway. Besides, you got more than enough fill, right?”

He didn’t exactly answer you that night. Just grunted and walked away. You thought that was the end of it.

Until one night: half asleep and feeling an incredibly soreness in your breasts. It felt hot, wet, and heavy like a sack of potatoes sitting atop your chest, with a leach on the end of it. Though, you did notice they gradually felt lighter, which is strange. You always filled with milk over night. Groaning, your nipples felt twisty, sore as hell. Groggily you reach under the covers—God, why are they so hard and big? I can’t even feel it … oh, oh no. why it is hairy? And there’s growling coming from below.

 Panic ensures, fear that you’re turning into some hairy wolf beast stuck in a dream, becoming misshaped and hideous and—

You wake up fully and toss the covers off, revealing your husband who’s latched on to your tit, suckling the milk like in second heaven.

You stare down at him disappointingly. Joel only just realizes he’s been caught, your nip falling from his mouth with suctioned pop, as cream pours from his lips. Caught red handed.

“Um….sorry. Was hungry.”

You wack his head hard several times, enunciating, “That-is-for-the-baby!”

“Okay okay!”

“Do you do this often when I’m asleep?”

Joel shifts up slightly, staring down at your teeth ridden mounds. He clears his throat guiltily. “…No...”

He got an earful, and you were careful to make sure he didn’t try sneaking Sarah’s breakfast off of you in the early morning again. 

And that seemed like the end of it. He never brought it up or complained again.

And yet, the man was still gaining weight like nobody’s business…

-

Joel doesn’t like sneaking around his wife. 

Realistically, he should have been losing weight, what with the extra snack of your milk each night he could enjoy now entirely off the menu. He should have not been too indulgent either, as you may have noticed his... physical difference. In fact, he was surprised it didn’t really dawn on you, where all those extra pounds on your hubby are coming from.

Joel tiptoes down to the kitchen in the late night, far after you’re lightly snoring. He makes sure not to hit the pressure sensitive creaky floorboards too. Honestly, even with the extra weight, he’s pretty good at slinky-ing around. 

But his eagerness is getting the best of him. Rumbling through his body despite the slowness in his pace. He waits all day for this moment and can’t rush it now.

He cracks open the fridge, the light illuminating the dark kitchen as he briefly scans behind him again for any signs of movement. When the area is secure, he turn back. He’s so excited, goosebumps riveting his skin. Bubbles gurgling in his stomach. He’s become gluttonous, no doubt. But when you get that high, it’s hard to just quit cold turkey. 

Reaching behind the beer bottles, carefully laid under a foil wrap of steak, is his most prized possession of the late night endeavors: that extra sum of frozen baggies of your breastmilk in the freezer that you gracious kept saved and that his even more gracious baby now refuses to drink. To his luck, you must have mentally completely forgotten about them. He always pulls three each night and lets them thaw in their hidden place in the refrigerator, waiting all day for this exact moment.

His obtuse stomach rumbles. Joel typically wears a buttoned sleep shirt as of late since it was the only thing that fit him to bed. But now the bottom few buttons had torn off, leaving his fat gut rounded and hanging out. 

The hungry man licks his lips as he tears open the first buoyant bag of cream, his lips quivering when that first scent hits his nose. “Ah—oh fuck yeah. That’s the good stuff,” he groans, but quickly softens his voice again, remembering he can’t get caught on his indulgence.

He hastily dips a fat finger into the milk and swirls it before pushing past his lips. Joel closes his eyes, humming loudly as the taste of your fine breastmilk invade his buds, travel through his electrical signals to his brain that then releases pleasure throughout his entire body. He moans around his digit, sucking every little drop until he’s close to gnawing his finger off. Then he releases with a pop and grins, dipping two more fingers and scooping it out messily. Tilting back to drink the second helping. It drips down his palm, and he’s quick to suckle it up. None can be wasted.

He suppresses a slight burp. His large stomach screaming for more, for what he came he for. Joel tilts the baggie back over his head, leaning back and drinks the entire contents. Audible gulp after gulp, the sweet taste of milk fills his tongue and travels to his happy belly. All while his other wondering hand roams over the thick, stretched flesh, right over his belly button, jiggling the heavy underside of lard. God he feels so good like this. Getting gorged out on your milk, feeling so full and fulfilled from it. 

He wags the bag once the last few drops are struggling to pour, sticking his tongue out like a dog. Heat spreads from his core down to his loins. Joel grips his hardened length over his soft pj shorts. He can’t help it. He once had prime seat to your lap, drinking straight from your tits whenever he felt like it while you jerked him off. Now reduced to palming his hard-on while lapping at your bagged milk by himself in the dark late of night.

 The first bag never lasts. He makes sure to lick any remnant on his lips, squeezing his belly and groan with a pathetic whimper. He needs more. He always needs more. Thankfully there are two more bags for tonight, but fuck he could drink 300 right now and still never be full. 

His shirt stretches tightly over his chest, and he decides to unbutton the top few stained buttons. His puffy chest bursts through the fabric like a damn. Now fully free, the silk material hanging forgotten and obscured by his massive figure, Joel can now take more enjoyment out of tearing into the next bag and downing it even faster than the first.

He huffs out, breathing for the first time after slurping the entire bag in one go. Rubbing faster up and down his stiff cock. Shit, he’s gonna cum. Feels so euphoric having his tip bump against the lower hang of his pooch. The fat tip meeting his even fatter tummy. 

And your taste. That’s what sends him over every night. Has him cumming in his sleep shorts by the time he’s finished the third bag. Joel grunts, lifting his stomach from the underside so his other hand can palm his swollen dick. “Momma’s got the best milk,” he hums to himself, eyes closed in bliss. “Oh fuck fuck fuck, fuck yeah, I’m—I’m gonna—!”

“So!”

Joel swings around, crashing his body into the open refrigerator door, spilling his precious milk all over his tits and belly. Only to be met with you, your arms folded over your  chest, spaghetti silk nightgown adorning your figure and a knowing smirk on your face.

“So this is where you’ve been getting your little extra snacks.”

He’s speechless, caught and cornered with no where to go. His mouth opens, but no words leave, like a gaping fish out of water.

“Nothing to say, Joel?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I—its—“ he casts down at his belly sadly. God, he looks pathetic now. Cock rock hard and stabbing through his pants, and belly flush out like a pig at a buffet. You must think he’s disgusting like this. “I…I missed your milk, baby,” he says solemnly. “Got carried away, I guess.” 

Instead of the scolding he expects, you walk up to him quietly and bring his eyes to yours. Taking the bag of half drank breastmilk, he acquiesces and lets you. 

To his surprise, you hold it up slightly to mouth level for him. “Looks like you’re not finished yet, honey.” 

Joel stares at you, confused. But when you start palming his erection, gliding your hand up and around his belly with a swirling ticklish finger before brushing back down to his dick, he doesn’t have any braincells left. You push the bag forward and his jaw drops open once again, feeding him. With you at the control, he gulps quickly, afraid to lose any as you pour the entire contents at once. He sputters a moment when the bag is empty, too caught up on the pleasurable heat spreading in his crotch and core again. You kiss his lips, the sweet taste making you realize how difficult it must have been for him to give something so delightful up.

“Mmmm, that’s better?”

“Ah—oh—oh-yeah-so good baby-shit-“ he groans as you continue your ministrations on his member. With two hands, you hoist the underside of his enlarged middle, bouncing it up and down. 

“Oh, Joel,” you tsk. “So light. So empty! We’re not done yet big boy. Not even close.”

-

 They say there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing.

But as for Joel, stripped naked and sitting his fat ass on the couch, gorging on the funneled tube that’s been cascading a mix of whole and breastmilk into his stomach, he can confidently say that saying doesn’t apply here.

His finishes a big gulp before pulling the nozzle away, letting out a massive burp. As he grips the side of his belly, the rolls on his side multiplying before his vary eyes and skin stretching like a taught balloon, he’s never felt so full in his life. 

And it feels fucking amazing. 

He’s never felt so guilt-free, so perfectly enlightened and fully allowing himself to feel pleasure like to this level. 

“You full yet?” You coo. You’re standing next to him by the cough, a gallon of mixed milk partially full in one hand as you check on your gluttonous husband.

He shakes his head, devious and energized. “Hit me again, baby!” He puts the nozzle back in his mouth and rests the back of his head on the couch headrest again.

You chuckle but does as he says, pouring the jug into the large funnel. He can’t wait fast enough for the milk to force its way through the tube and finally squirts onto his tongue again.

“That’s my good boy. Mommy loves filling you up with her milk. No need to hide it from me any more baby. You keep drinking and drinking until you’re full.”

With one hand splayed over his belly button, physically feeling his gut fill past its maximum, he gets a quick glance at you. The way you giddily grin, eyeing him up and down in his fattened state like a delicious piece of steak. He’s never felt so sexy in his life.

His cock feels it too. Reddened and swollen beyond belief. curved against the swell of his belly leaving a sticky trail where his precum keeps nudging along. Though, with how much he’s packing into his stomach, he’s struggling more and more to be able to fully grasp his cock and jerk it with the mean pumps he usually does. Joel was the type of masturbator to grip his base with one hand while the other beats his meat like a car engine. His arms still retained their muscled strength, but everywhere else was starting to fill in. Now, he can only get one hand down there to gently tug on it. 

“Poor baby, got you so fat you can basely touch that little dick?” You tease. Though at the sheer size of him, Joel Miller’s cock is anything but ‘little.’ In fact, it’s even more imposing now, like somehow he added a few extra pounds onto his mini me as well to keep the proportions the same. 

“S’not little. I can—oh fuck—still reach jus’ fine.”

Another burp billows up his throat, and he just gets the tube out of his mouth to let it out. Hell, he can barely move. The amount of effort just to sit upright again makes him bounce his whole body, the fat moving at a slower pace. Fuck, even when he can’t fully jerk his cock like he used to, the pressure of his belly on top of his tip, smushing his balls into the couch feels heavenly. Especially when he bounces and rocks back and forth slightly. Friction doing its thing and grinding his sack between his big thighs. 

“Baby,” he gasps. “M so full of you.” He peers up to you with heart, drunken full pupils as he jiggles his belly. “M’ so packed tight. So much Mommy’s milk.” One finger trails up the fold under his pec, now swollen like a breast himself, before pinching and rolling his nips between his calloused fingers.

“Yeah? Let Mommy feel.” You press your palm over his chest, down to his belly that protrudes so far out. Despite being squishy earlier this night, his stomach is indeed bursting to its limit. Hardened just as yours was right before giving birth. 

“Aww, oh Joel…” you squeeze your thumb into his belly button and grip the lower half before jiggling it roughly. He gasps and pushes him belly out further for you, rocking his hips best he can into the air. “You really are full baby, huh? Greedy greedy piggy.”

“Mhm,” he hums with a pout, licking his lips. “Momma’s fat fuckin’ gluttonous hog. ‘At’s me.”

You prop the funnel up on a coat hook before sliding down to your knees in front of your husband. He leans as far forward as possible to be able to see all over you between his chunky legs, parted to let you breathe against his tummy that’s right up against your face.

You gently caress his sides along the rounded shape, holding his middle in your hands. You’re so soft against him, so loving and careful. He feels no different right now than when he used to be able to lie on your lap and feed from your tit. It’s been so long since then, and he realizes now this is the feeling he’d been chasing bag after bag all this time.

Your soft cheek presses into his skin there, making him sigh relaxed. 

He’s getting lost in the feeling of you on him, but you need to keep him on track.

“Keep drinking. You’ve got 2 more gallons.” You point towards the table where more mixed milk sits, and Joel settles up and begins gulping his cream again.

He moans, cock twitching against your chest as your tongue swirls around his belly button, dipping inside slightly. The hairs around his happy trail feel soft as you stroke along his naval. You can hear the little sloshing of liquid inside him each time you plant a wet kiss against his skin, making out with his gorged stomach. 

The weeping end of his length bobs painfully each time you brush it. You notice he’s glancing down at you playing with him, while he continues to swallow big batches down his throat. “You want me to take care of your little problem?”

He nods pitifully. 

“Not until you’re done.” You smile, standing up and gripping his belly harshly. He grunts but doesn’t release the bottled end, sucking more milk as you slap his belly repeatedly. Watching it wobble from the sheer effort and taking a moment to settle before you slap it again. Each time he whimpers but pushes it out more, asking for another.

“Greedy“—slap—“fat“—slap—“Milk hungry“—slap—“whore.”

You squeeze his plush tit, no bigger than an A cup but still, the man had nothing there before. He grunts and eyes you, dark and pleading. “Holy fuck, You’ve even got such cute cow titties Joel.” You giggle, rolling his perked nipples under you thumb while cupping the rest of the fat pooling there. “Wouldn’t that be something? Squeezing milk from your own tits?” You place your mouth on his pecs and begin suckling like the tip of his cock. Joel tosses his head back, milk spilling from his cheeks as he howls in pleasure. 

“Oh fuck Momma that’s it—keep sucking my fat tits—christ. Fuck—fuckFUCK!” One hand caresses your hair as he whines, “I Love you.”

“I love you too. How are we doing?” You gesture to the funnel.

He tilts it upside down. “All out,” he says with a grimace.

“Good. On your knees.”

You grab his chubby hands and hoist him up, the two of you laughing when he fails after the first attempt.

When he does get to his feet, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him. “You look so fucking sexy, Joel Miller.” 

You brush his fingers under your thigh, between your slit. “Oh—shit—so fuckin’ wet,” he whispers, rubbing your slicked walls with his meaty fingers.

 Pressing your cunt against his crotch, your belly collides with his, creating the perfect friction on your clit. “I want you bigger than me when you knock me up with twins next.”

He grits his teeth and hisses against your lips. The mental image doing a whirlwind on him. You chuck two pillows to the ground for him comfort. With a big thud, he gets to one knee on the plush, then the other, arms flailing forward and hands plastered on the ground to hold his weight. His belly sags so heavily, causing him to groan. the compressed tip is damn near toughing the floorboards even as he holds cow position. 

He stares up back up at you, soft big moo moo eyes getting eager when you grab the funnel and uncap another jug.

 He used to marvel at how much pregnancy changed you. At how he changed you. Your body growing round with child, a child he put inside you, and then your tits swelling up with milk, all because of him.

And now he’s changing physically because of you too. His body filling with fat, engorged from your abundant lactation that you’re feeding him.

He sticks his tongue out without a single word, sucking in the nozzle and guzzling the milk funneling through again. 

He downs this one fast and hard, pushing away with a big sigh. “Christ, I can’t do it. MN’gonna fuckin’ explode.”

You crouch down to see his convex stomach. It’s perfectly rounded and bulging like a moon. 

He shivers when you cup the underside and glide up along, feeling how smoothed over from so much filling him. “Touch it, please touch it baby. Gonna go crazy if ya don’t.”

You watch as his eyes squeeze shut, his swaying back and forth like he’s trying to get his belly to hump his dick, or maybe the other way around. He’s helpless in this position by his own doing. 

“Aww, has my big boy had enough? No more Mommy’s milk?”

He shakes his head painfully. “More,” he croaks. God, his body is screaming no. he’s never felt so ready to turn into an atom bomb, and yet his intoxicated brain knows if he can’t down the last of this gallon, you’ll never give him the full on tap again.

Joel snatches the tunnel again, balancing on one hand briefly as he wraps his tongue around and drinks yet again. Gulp after gulp, the sweet liquid bulges in his esophagus before traveling down to his mighty belly. You kiss his cheek and hold the nozzle to his face, forcing it to stay. “Almost there, Joel, drink it to the last drop, and then you’ll get your reward…” you not so subtly squeeze your breasts together, and that does it for him.

He spits out the nozzle and falls head first to the ground, back arched as much as possible as his tummy smushes into the hardwood. With a howl, his hips jerk forward into his fat middle, suffocating the tip and he starts cumming untouched. “Oh-ah-ahaugghhh-yeah—yeah!” He hums, cheek pressed into the ground and drool and milk spilling from those sinful lips along with a litany of sexy, satisfied noises. 

All the while you praise him with kisses and gentle curls of his hair, telling him how good he’s been for you. The funnel rolls around the floor, having been drained into Joel’s gut just a moment before he gave in. 

And you’d think he was done, out for the count, needing a fat coma nap. Instead, just as you help him up to his bum, Joel snatches your waist. “Get on my lap Momma,” he slurs, licking his lips once again. You half climb, half are hoisted up to his lap, his cream coated cock still raging hard and sitting between the two of you. “Show me what those bouncing titties can do. “He slaps your breasts with little slapslapslaps. The tight grip he has on your hips forces you to begin rolling, your neglected cunt beautifully nudged against his sack with his belly and cock brushing your clit.

“Hop on Pop,” he chuckles. 

Gripping one of his shoulders, you align his cock along your soaked folds and sink down on him, the two of you sighing heavily. His sticky cum coated length needed no prep to enter you, filling your womb to the brim with his Daddy sized dick. “Gonna pump you full now, little Momma. Gonna get ya bred in no time.” Joel dips his head down and latches your tit between his jaws.

You gasp and grip his hair as he begins suckling out your warm breastmilk. It’s like all this time, he wasn’t truly even full. Like he had a separate storage in this lard living planet between you just for your hot fresh pure milk. 

“J-Joel,” you moan, eyes rolling. He’s always been good at sex. Always had a great body, but this…this is different. You can feel all of him pressing against you. Burrying your nub and hitting it so deliciously from the outside as he pummels you from the inside. You fee like a little doll, being used like a flashlight up and down along his thick cock

“That’s it, Mommy, ride me. Ride my fat cock. Ride it till ya swollen here—“ he pokes at your stomach “—as big as mine, like ya said.” You grin, biting your teeth. “B-bigger.”

He smiles. “Bigger.” His beefy hands wrap around your back and pull you as close to him as you can physically manage. “Let Daddy do all the work on that one. Just gotta take my cream, at’s all. I drink yours—n’ you take mine.”

“Mmfff--fuck—fuckyes Daddy fill me up—fill me with your cream! Ah! oh shit I’m cumming! Make me a Mommy again!”

You spasm, convulsing around Joel’s base just as he stills and ruts his second load inside you, grunting into your tits like a pained beast. You feel each pulse overwhelming your walls, yet having nowhere else to go but inside. The man has never cum so much in a second orgasm in his life, and you start to wonder if any of this is your own milk having traveled to his balls and deposited safely inside you again.

As the two of you come down, breathing in and holding one another tightly, Joel pecks at your jaw with feather kisses.

“You know…I won’t be lactating forever.” You twirl some of his curly brown hair out of his sweaty temple. “It’s going to end eventually.”

He only shrugs. 

Gasping as his dick twitches to life inside you once again, he presses his lips to yours and begins shallowly thrusting again. “Guess I’m just gonna have to keep knocking you up.”

- - - -

Notes: I have plans for more Fat!Joel content in a variety of flavors...not just subby and breastfeeding. Will be different characters and have other independent requests so stay tuned!

Permanent taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

[fishsticksloser]

Just…talking this out.

I'd love to see a situation where Leo hangs out with a best friend of his and starts developing big feelings. He wouldn't know what these feelings were, testing simple things like hugs and hand holding with his other friend, April, to see if it's just an internal 'glitch' or something common.

Obviously, the reaction wouldn't work with April. Thus, he'd get to a point where he realizes he, of all people, is absolutely smitten with his best friend and begins unintentionally pursuing them (perhaps letting his hugs last a little longer than normal, kissing their knuckles occasionally in passing, leaning a tad bit closer to their face during each conversation…eventually to encase them against a wall on a rooftop, shielding them from the ongoing evening rain, finally and confidently uttering his confession).

Y'know…just…brain worms.

Close to You

Leo x gn!reader

Warnings: confessions, struggling with feelings, kissing, swearing

A/N: mmmm just brain worms? Let me eat them /silly.... Actually, can I use them to make a brain worm farm?

Something was off. He couldn't stop thinking about you. Your smile, your laugh, your touch. He often zoned out, thinking about you.

This is getting out of hand....

Sitting next to you, watching Jupiter Jim since you've never seen it. Feeling your arm brush his as you get comfortable, sparks flying over his skin. Leo glances at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He finds himself looking at your lips, wondering what they feel like against his.

He blinks, quickly looking away. People don't normally feel that way with friends, right?

He didn't understand what he was feeling. He decided to test it out. April. The perfect friend, always willing to help.

He definitely didn't explain or ask, but he knew if April knew it might skew results. Leo was getting scientific, something he didn't really understand. But it has to be done.

During a movie night you couldn't attend, he sat next to April, leaning against her and snuggling as he normally did with anyone he sat next to. Throughout the movie, his glances to her were seldom, mostly when she'd shift to get more comfortable or made a comment. Her arm bumped his and he felt nothing, he had no desire to get closer, no desire to touch her more.

That night he went to bed more confused, deciding to tell April about it later. Maybe she'd have some insight on what's going on with him. And of course she did.

Crush.

That was the simple word that echoed in his head as he went home.

Crush.

He shakes his head, trying to knock that one word out of his head.

There's no way...

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

As time went on, he couldn't help himself. Leo would touch you, holding your hand, kissing your knuckles, cuddling with you during movie nights. He wanted to be close, he wanted to get closer.

He'd noticed your blush, the way you'd cover your face at times. It made him need it more. He had to see more.

When you two were alone in his room, he'd let you rest against him. Sitting between his legs, your back against his plastron. It became a norm. So did his fingers tracing over your skin.

You're so soft...

He nuzzles your jaw, making you tilt your head to the side. His heart pounds in his chest as he presses his beak to your neck.

You smell so good...

Eventually he decides he has to tell you. He can't do it anymore, he can't stand it. It itches, it's hard to not just spill it. Not blurt it out the moment he sees you.

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

He had his jacket around you, your back pressed against his plastron. The pitter patter of rain, the feeling of the rain against his skin, the feeling of you in his embrace. Everything felt perfect.

Leo nuzzles your temple as you look over the city skyline. He sways slightly, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his arms wrapped around you. He takes a deep breath, basking in the moment.

"You're so warm." You hum, pressing back against him more. He churrs softly, burying his beak in your hair. You tilt your head back, laying it on the top edge of his plastron. "This is quite the view..."

"Kinda romantic, huh?" He teases, chuffing into your hair. Leo hugs you a bit tighter, feeling nervousness seep in.

"Perfect for a little date." You muse back, reaching up to rub his arm comfortingly. You watch the cars on the street, basking in Leo's warmth.

"I... Really like being with you." He murmurs, moving his arms as you turn around to face him.

"Don't tell me you're getting all mushy." The teasing words have him blushing, playfully pushing you away.

"Me? Mushy?" Leo laughs, trying to hide the big grin on his face with an eyeroll. You laugh back, letting him pull you back against him. His laughter dies a little, but still smiling widely. "I'm serious though... I love being with you... I.... I've realized some things recently..."

You listen intently, seeing the nervousness written all of his face. His grip on our waist tightened a little, taking a deep breath.

"I... Have a massive fucking crush on you..." He whispers finally, closing his eyes as if he was scared of your reaction.

"Really?" You gasp, making him open his eyes. The look on your face, you weren't repulsed like he'd thought you would be. He couldn't help himself any longer, leaning down as he cupped your cheek.

"Really..." He chuffs, pressing his lips to yours, sealing the confession with a sweet kiss.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Sorry, but I just had a thought and I’m exhausted and don’t know if I’m going to write anymore tonight.

Just Steve holding a slight grudge against Nancy after she pretty much calls his love bullshit in the bathroom. He feels lead on, he’s slightly bitter but he knows how to be discreetly passive if he needs to be. But thing is he doesn’t have the energy in him to be passive. If this had been before the monsters, and someone who he thought was the love of his life did what Nancy did and proceeded to end up dating the guy who she said not to worry about within days after getting into a fight, he would have probably done something stupid. Probably would have ruined her locker with mean words or something like that.

He wasn’t sure what he would do, he was exhausted and couldn’t think of what used to come easy to him. Or maybe he’s grown to realize how immature that was, how it didn’t even seem all that fun to do to someone. Just thinking back to spray painting slut on the theater makes his gut twist uncomfortably. Once, he used to be the one to climb up there and spray something even worst. Now the thought made him want to throw up.

And maybe the grudge he is holding against Nancy isn’t really a grudge. Maybe he has matured to realized that the grudge he held was within himself for how fast he had fallen. For how stupid he was for thinking the girl would ever end up with him. He should have seen the signs. How she defended Jonathan even after he took non consensual photos of him and her about to have sex. Which he still felt disgusted by, his skin still crawled uncomfortably around the little creep whenever he was close by.

Though when the time comes, he realizes he was holding a grudge against Nancy. When he falls harder for someone new he realizes within minutes that something was different about this one. Instead of smacking him in the shoulder and scolding him for staring to long, Eddie would pull his hair in front of his face with bright eyes. Would do something dramatic to snap Steve out of the trance he was in. Like lick his face instead of kissing him.

That was the other thing Steve discovered. In the moments where it was just the two of them, it seemed like every other minute time would stop and Eddie would be in the same bubble as him. Lost in the same spell that Steve had tumbled into, needing to kiss the other just as much as they needed oxygen to breathe.

Nancy rarely had those moments with Steve, and they had stopped right around the time she started hanging out with Jonathan.

And Steve does hold a grudge, for how she stayed with him longer than what she had to.

Eddie made him feel in love and loved. Whenever Steve watched the other man he could barely keep his hands to himself and the best part was Eddie didn’t care. Steve could bite off Eddie’s remaining nipple and the man would still let Steve do whatever he wanted to him. Nancy never trusted Steve and never earned Steve’s trust the way Eddie did within one week of knowing each other.

Eddie was the moon and Nancy had been the sun for Steve. The sun burnt his skin and left him blistered while the moon wrapped his arms around him and rocked him to sleep every night. While Steve worried about when the sun would explode, he never had to worry about the moon disappearing for to long. It always came back, no matter what happened. Even if Steve had been an asshole.

God was Steve in love. This was it for him. And maybe at one point he had loved Nancy just as much as he did Eddie.

But now, as each day passes he only finds himself falling more in love with Eddie Munson.

He slowly comes to the conclusion that his love was and will never be bullshit.

And when he finally sits down to talk to Nancy about it, he finally gets it off his chest. What had been bugging him for almost years before falling for Eddie.

“Nancy, we were bullshit. But my love, it was all real. Maybe not as strong as it is for Ed’s but I know that if … everything wasn’t such bullshit I could have gotten there.” Steve says softly to Nancy. Shortly after she confessed she still had feelings for him. He seen this conversation coming from a mile away, especially with how many one sided sparks happened between the two of them while running for their life’s on spring break.

And as he stands up, leaving her in her own shock. Letting her process that he was with Eddie, a man. He can’t help but feel proud of himself.

He didn’t intentionally hold this grudge, but he felt as if he got back at her the healthiest way he could. By maturing and moving on. And looking down at Nancy, he could tell that she needed time to do the same. Not to be with another man or date in general, but to just grow as a person. But that was no longer his problem. His problem was currently running up the steps of the trailer with what seemed to be a moving snake.

“Hey Stevie! Look what I found.”

Steve was in love, and it wasn’t bullshit.

[olvxva]

emptiness / joost klein x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, cursing, crying (remember it's a pure fiction!!!)

summary: it was just a stupid mistake, right?

// 700 words

this day was a complete disaster. when you woke up in the morning and saw that your boyfriend still wasn’t home, you knew this day is not gonna be great. 

it wasn’t new that he didn’t come home, but it started to become a routine lately.

he was always saying that he was working on a new album and he needed to stay a little bit longer in a studio. you didn’t mind at first. but when you saw that one day one of his close friends posted a story of them partying in a club, you started to be a little suspicious about this whole situation. 

‚i should just stop overthinking this’ you thought. 

and you did. you got this topic out of your mind. 

yet it suddenly came back with a message that you received from some girl on instagram.

it was a simple photo - a photo of joost and a girl kissing - and just a short message after that: ‚they were seen yesterday. thought you should know’.

and you lost it. you felt betrayed and more alone than ever.

,how could he do that?’ was everything you could think of. 

and there you were - coming home with a cigarette between your lips, mascara under you eyes and a broken heart. it was raining hard but you really couldn’t care less.

you entered the building and you knew he was home by now. were you scared of seeing him? not anymore. you felt nothing really. pure emptiness. 

you opened the door and stepped inside your apartment. he was doing something in the kitchen, singing some song quietly.

you didn’t really wanna see him. he felt so distant all of a sudden. it was not your joost, not the man you loved.

you entered the kitchen quietly. he turned around when he heard you. his expression changed smoothly. he knew exactly what was going on. 

you just stand there looking at him, waiting for him to say something. you saw that he didn’t really know what to say. he looked like a lost puppy.

‚y/n…’ he got closer and took your face in his hands. you didn’t move a centimeter. you just froze.

he was looking at you with this gaze full of sorrow. you despised him. suddenly all that anger you pushed back, came right up.

‚you are a fucking liar. get out of my apartament right now.’ you stepped back not being able to bare his touch anymore.

‚y/n it’s not what you think, please.’ he grabbed your hand and you pulled it away immediately.

‚not what i think?! what the fuck do you even mean, joost? i saw that fucking picture, you were basically minutes from fucking her!’

‚it was nothing, baby, please. she was just some random groupie, okay?! you know i only love you..’ he got closer again and looked you straight in the eyes.

you loved those eyes so much. it was always your weak point when it came to him. but past tense was a key in this situation.

‚it’s over, joost. we are over.’ 

you went straight to the bathroom and locked yourself there. you started crying as hard as you never thought you could. joost went just after you and all you could hear was his voice from the other side of the door.

‚y/n, please, i love you so much. it was a stupid mistake, stupid fucking mistake, okay? i can’t loose you, not after everything that we went through. you hear me? i won’t leave, y/n. i can’t do it.’

now you were both separated only by the thin panel of the bathroom door. single sobs being heard from both of you. 

suddenly bathroom door opened and joost stood up as fast as he could. you looked at him with eyes still full of tears.

‚pack your things and send someone to get the rest later. i’m going out and when i come back, i wish not to see you here.’

he watched as you put your shoes on and left with only a pack of cigarettes in your hand. you didn’t look at him once. 

he felt hopeless and he finally realized that it was indeed very over now.

[yukoii1]

↳ summary, you try on his gauntlets.

¡ a.n guys, it’s been awhile since I updated and i’m so sorry for leaving you guys for so long :<. but good news is..i’m officially an auntie D: (a senior) but bad news is, updates might take longer than usual but I still hope you guys enjoy!.

you were currently hanging out with katsuki in his room today considering it was a free day from work study's enjoying each other company, he was laid with you as you were laid with him playing with small strands of his hair till he had randomly gotten up. you pouted jokingly from the lost of warmth gaining a groan and flick to the forehead, "i'll be back you damn cry baby." he would say with a small grin walking out his room.

you rolled your eyes sitting there waiting patiently for your boyfriend to come back, your eyes going from your phone to roam around the room landing on the two gauntlets that were sitting by his closet taking a double take. you had an idea. you looked at the door then at the gauntlets before throwing your phone down on the bed getting up to walk over to them. you kneeled down a bit to pick on of them not expecting them to be this heavy..but luckily you weren't weak so you were able to to pick them up with ease. when you slid them on, they felt weird— maybe because they were a little too big or because you're not used to wearing gauntlets on your wrists. you smiled looking into the mirror moving your hands side to side to get a good look. they don't look too bad!.

as you were too busy admiring the huge things on you, you didn't realize he had came back, standing there by his door with a raised brow but it changed to a grin. he had to give it to you, you look hot with his stuff on. "I leave for five minutes and you’re trying on my stuff?." he snorted, quickly turning around with wide eyes seeing him walk closer to you, "kat—!." he was so quiet you didn't realize he had came in.

katsuki rolled his eyes, pulling you closer to him by your pants to get a close look at his gauntlets, "relax dummy, i'm not mad. plus you have them on wrong." you raised a brow as he used his hand to bring your arm up going to push the hook down feeling it tightened around your wrist to keep it secure, you came to realization, "no wonder they felt weird." you moved your arm up and down feeling a difference from before, rolling his eyes. "you idiot, you didn't know this whole time?." you went to make your argument but shut your mouth not finding one, instead huffing.

"well in my defense I didn't know they had to be pulled down." you stuck your tongue out with your arms crossed hearing him scoff, "yeah, whatever you say...but I have to give it to you." he shrugged pulling you much closer, being chest to chest with him as he looked at you. "you look pretty damn hot with my stuff on." he mumbled leaning to hover his lips over yours, grinning. "then maybe you should let me wear your hero costume?." you tilted your head giggling hearing him groan, "i'll think about it." he would love to see that, you wearing his costume one day?.

yeah he would love to see that.

[milla-frenchy]

And all that could have been

1k4 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: the memories of you don’t leave Javi, reminding him of his past mistakes

Warnings: 18+ mdni. Angst, piv, creampie, mentions of SA (not by Javi), no age specified. Pics for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions. Writer chose not to use all warnings

a/n: this is for @janaispunk 1500 kisses challenge 🥳 Prompt was "last kiss/Javi p"

Thank you @toxicanonymity for the spanish translation 🖤 @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 @morallyinept for your amazing Javi character database and dialogue 🌻 @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

The title and some sentences said by Javi are from And all that could have been by Nine inch nails

Javi was at his apartment with Helena. She was a hooker and one of his informers, but she meant more than that. He cared about her, and they saw each other regularly at his place.

“¿Qué harás este fin de semana?” (what are you doing this weekend?), he asked her.

“Iré a Medellín” (I’m going to Medellin)

“Bueno, tendré que buscarme otra” (I guess I’ll have to find another girl)

“Buena suerte con eso. Todas nos vamos a Medellín” (good luck with that. We’re all going to Medellin)

His heart sank and worry crept into him. Sensing a very familiar feeling, which had never left him since last year.

“¿Helena? ¿De quién es esta fiesta?” (whose party is it?)

Anxiety took over him, past events playing over and over in his head. Haunting him. And he thought about what happened a year ago. What happened to you.

You didn't plan for any of that. Neither Javi nor you did.

At first, he was a client almost like the others, except that he worked for the DEA, and bit by bit he asked you for information on the sicarios. He always treated you right, never made you feel uncomfortable. You had other clients and you weren’t the only hooker he used to fuck.

You got to know him and trust him as the weeks passed, as he also seemed to, until you realized that he was no longer fucking anyone but you. You used to see him in his apartment more and more often, and less and less at the brothel. When his cock was buried in your core and his eyes looked with yours, his gaze was different. Soft and caring.

One night at his place he lit a cigarette and was smoking it by the window. Looking thoughtfully at the city lights as you were lying in bed, naked, admiring all of him. The muscles of his back, his shoulders, his tanned skin.

When he sat on the bed, his thigh against yours, his hand caressed your stomach which was gradually returning to normal breathing. 

“¿Por qué no paras?” (Why don’t you stop?), he asked.

It wasn't exactly jealousy or possessiveness, more of a concern. You both knew what that implied. You had always been careful not to talk about those feelings you both felt. Scared that it would complicate everything.

He used to try to make you stay at his apartment longer and longer, but of course you always had to return to the brothel. To make some money. To have sex with the men you hated and who disgusted you. Trying to make it bearable you were thinking of something else. You were thinking of Javi.

“Renuncia a tu trabajo” (quit your job),” he finally asked one day.

“No puedo, Javi” (I can’t, Javi)

The more weeks and months with Javi passed, the less you could bear to go back to the brothel. But what other choices did you have? Tears threatened to roll down your cheeks and you batted your eyelashes to try to hold them back.

“You could stay here, with me. You don’t need to go back.”

“You know I can’t. They would find me, and God knows what they would do to me.”

“I’ll protect you. You know I would never let anything happen to you.”

You hugged him as the tears fell, unable to hold them back any longer. You wanted to quit your job and stay with him, but it was impossible. They made sure to let you know what happened to the girls who tried to leave.

“Necesito sentirte dentro. Porfa, Javi.” (I need to feel you inside me, Javi. Please.)

He caressed your cheek and wiped your tears like only he knew how to do. He kissed you with his warm, luscious, caring lips. Soft and delicate. When he lay between your legs you wrapped them around his waist to feel him deeper. His nose brushed against yours, and he kissed your forehead. Your hips were leading a perfect slow dance. He rubbed himself against you in the way he was sure would make you cum. His eyes fixed on yours. The eyes of a man in love, and you started to cry again.

“Don’t cry, hermosa (beautiful). I’ll take care of you and you’ll never have to go back there. Do you trust me?”

You trusted him. With all your heart. You wiped your tears and took his cheeks in your hands.

“I do, Javi.”

He leaned towards you and kissed you, until you came on his shaft, your pussy squeezing him perfectly and making him moan, and you felt his jolts at each rope of cum, painting your walls.

You didn't go back, he took you to a safe house. He exfiltrated you.

And for several days, you only saw Javi.

That evening you laughed and the atmosphere was as light as a summer breeze. You looked at each other smiling like teenagers, and he kissed your hands. Then he held you tight against him. You felt safe and free.

Later that night, as your hips rolled while riding him, you leaned into him and said, “dame un beso” (give me a kiss).

He caressed your cheek as your hands ran through his hair and you kissed. You needed to feel him more. Deeper. You moved away from him and got on all fours, looking over your shoulder as his hands caressed your hips. He slipped into you, in one slow, deep thrust. No one had ever brushed your walls the way he did. Without brutality, without clumsiness, without impatience, without hurting you. Just in a perfect way, like he always knew what to do. Stroking your clit when you needed it, until you came on his cock. His torso enveloped your back and he kissed your skin, before quickly thrusting in to claim you, grunting. 

You just knew that you belonged to each other, in the healthiest, most beautiful way.

In the early morning, he kissed your forehead and lightly stroked your cheek to not wake you up, and left for the office.

In the afternoon, you heard a knock on the door, and thought Javi had forgotten his keys. Your hand grabbed the handle of the white door and you opened it without taking the time to think.

It wasn't Javi.

In the late afternoon, his colleagues told him that a hooker had been killed by sicarios. His heart sank and he almost puked, as if his gut instinctively knew who he would find there. When they lifted the sheet, he fell to his knees on the ground.

Your mutilated and bruised body lying on its back left no doubt about what you had suffered. What they had done to you.

He went back to his apartment and drank until he couldn't remember his name.

A few days later, he visited your grave and placed white flowers on it.

He thought about how he had kissed your forehead that morning. Not knowing that it would have been the last kiss he had ever given you.

“In my nothing, you meant everything to me”, he murmured.

When the memories finally faded, he realized Helena had already left his apartment.

During the following days he had been organizing surveillance in Medellin, with Carillo and Steve. Taking photos, watching the Sicarios arriving one by one at the hotel.

Hours passed without news of Helena, and worry tightened his heart. He couldn't relive that. He was consumed with anxiety.

When he finally found her, he shot the man who was abusing her. Rushed to cover her bruised body. He failed once again, even though he arrived in time for Helena, he wasn’t able to prevent what had happened to her. 

He thought of you, not a day he had not. He thought of all that could have been.

When he visited your grave, and saw that only his last faded bouquet was there, he couldn't hold back his tears.

“I can still feel you, even so far away” he breathed. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry…”

And he chose to let his anger consume him, rather than letting the tears flow. On his knees in the cemetery, he screamed. He was clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles were white.

He would dedicate his life to bringing them all down. Even if it meant falling with them. But one thing was sure: Gacha would fall before him.

***********

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

@janaispunk thank you for the inspiring mood board 🙏

Thank you for reading 🙏

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring

[poppy-metal]

friends to lovers with patrick…oh my i have thoughts

you guys both come from rich families, grew up with each other all that good stuff and you are quite literally the only people in your wealthy little bubble who really get each other. highlight of the year is when he comes back from the academy for summer break and holidays. all the time he has he spends with you…of course by the time you’re both teenagers he leaves you every once in a while when a pretty girl he can get with comes along. you’ve known you liked him since you were 10 (this all consuming love that knows you’ll always gravitate towards him) this goes on throughout your teens

He realizes he has feelings for you around the time you’re 17, stupidly when he finally sees you start going out with other people. takes him about a week to fully understand why seeing you with a boyfriend pisses him off…of course when he tells you this, things don’t go as planned (referring to your last post on friends to lovers…like of course youre nervous about this. you love him but if he cheats? god you lose him as a boyfriend and a friend). so you fool around a bit, and while he insists on something more serious, you’re too scared to take the jump

this hurts him of course. hurts him enough that when he leaves that summer in 2006 to go pro, he doesn’t want to keep in contact anymore. yeah it hurts to not respond to your calls or emails, but you broke his heart first? how can he just continue like something is normal. You try to keep track of his life, checking scores, even reaching out to that strawberry blonde boy he brought to your house in the summer before (who doesn’t tell you anything either)

life is so much more boring without your best friend. you try meeting new people all throughout college, spread your wings, but its all so boring. no one is as fun or exciting or loving as patrick. eventually you just give up on the idea he is going to come back to your life, its been four years at this point.

you graduate college and go back to your rich little family. realize he isn’t even in contact with his family, god you really have no connection to this man anymore, the only person you actually love is no longer in contact with you. and quite frankly you’re lonely. so after couple post-grad years of wallowing in your sadness, when your parents start pushing you to get married…it only takes couple weeks for you to agree

everything happens so quickly, meeting the rich prick your parents have picked out, the engagement, god now your wedding is in couple of weeks

are you excited? of course not, you don’t feel anything for this man, but hey there are worse outcomes than becoming a wife to a rich business man. you’re 24 you have the rest of your life to live, at least you can do it knowing you have as much money as possible

so yeah you’re content with the life that you’ve chosen….well that is until patrick mf zweig shows up at your door step after years going “you’re getting married?”

oh well…there goes being content with your husband

-🫀

CHEATING IMMEDIATELY

god, its like. why had he even showed up. you'd been the one to break his heart, you'd grappled with that, stewed with regret over it for years, still did, but he'd been the one to cut you off. to block you on all accounts. so to show up now..... like he'd never left, you're shell shocked. hand over your heart, your engagement ring glinting right there.

its like a full laurie moment. "dont marry him." and you're falling back a step like what, what, you cant say that to me.

but he means it. he'd cut you off but he'd never moved on. and hearing the news of your engagement felt like a wakeup call - like someone threw a bucket of ice water over his head. because he fucking knows you. knows you'd never marry a guy like that - not the girl he knew. and you might have broken his heart, but maybe he should have fought for you harder. maybe he shouldn't have stone walled you. maybe he should have seen you were scared and done everything in his power to prove you were meant to be with him.

its a late start, but he's never been one to quit. he wont give you up again.

[daistea]

Alright so to answer your question, the reader is around their age but maybe slightly older than his brother, and would always reject Mithrun's advances because they think it's inappropriate

You said headcanons in the original request, I hope it’s okay that I added some writing as well! 

The name I give his brother is Arendil, totally stolen from another series with elves and kind of a cliche name, but it’s stuck with me and personally it would feel weird calling him anything else because that’s what I’m used to. 

This is a little more angsty than I expected it to be, tbh :/ Sorry if you don't like angst, I kinda just can't help but pick apart pre-dungeon Mithrun like this.

2700 words

No tw

Pre-Dungeon Mithrun x gn Reader 

●・○・●・○・●

Mithrun was probably a very good boy growing up. He tried so hard, he wanted everybody to like him, and he was a hardcore people pleaser. 

However, once he finds out that he’s the one born out of infidelity, the resentment starts to sink in. I like to think this happens when he’s in his early teens, when he actually takes a look at his family and starts to realize that he’s not truly the favorite. 

His parents treat him like he’s the favorite, and in a way they do prefer him over his brother, but in the end they’re always going to choose his brother because he’s the rightful heir and the oldest, and I think Elven culture would prioritize that more than personality. 

That probably becomes clear to Mithrun early on, just through little things. His sense of worth starts to crumble and he desperately grasps at any opportunity to be the one people prefer, which eventually turns him into the fake-nice, outwardly charming, judgmental, distrustful, bitter boy we know. 

Onto you. As a caretaker and important aspect of Mithrun’s life, he would crave your approval. I don’t think he’d be outwardly mean to servants and helpers, because despite their lower stations he would want them all to like him and think well of him. Since you’re especially close to him and Arendil, he would crave your attention even more. 

As you both get older, though, he starts noticing more about you…

I headcanon that Mithrun was pretty flirty at this point in life. He won’t open up or be vulnerable for anybody, but he will try to charm his way into your heart just to fulfill his own desire to be wanted.

Except… You don’t seem to want him. 

He first notices your rejection of his advances a year or two before he’s sent to join the Canaries.

You felt Mithrun’s eyes on your form. They were steady, intense, and held implications that you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge. You tried your best to ignore the feeling, but the hairs on the back of your neck still stood to attention, and your heart still clenched. 

Resisting the urge to comment on the situation grew more difficult the longer time passed. “Mithrun,” you sighed, “can I help you with something?”

He raised his brows and smiled pleasantly. His head was tilted, his fingers pressed into his cheekbone as he leaned against the table beside his chair. “Yes, actually, you can.”

You wanted to groan. Having basically grown up with Mithrun and his brother, you had the pass to be a little snarky with the boys. Yet the look in his eyes told you that now wasn’t the time. He would grab onto your sarcasm and use it like a rope to pull you forward, into him, into the trap he set. Mithrun’s games had only gotten more subtle with age. 

“I can’t imagine with what,” you said, keeping your voice level and disinterested, “the laundry is done, the manor is clean, and you’ve already eaten.”

Mithrun remained pleasantly unphased, “Do you really think that’s all I would need you for?”

“I don’t. However, there’s no other service I’m willing to offer.”

That was enough to break his demeanor, to shatter the glass he hid behind. His smile faltered for half a second and his shoulders tensed. “We’re friends, please don’t talk as if a caretaker is all you are.”

You knew that. Yet, at the moment, you were just a caretaker. You refused to be more to him— not out of dislike or a lack of attraction to the youngest Kerensil brother, but more because you were professional. It would be inappropriate to let yourself feel anything beyond what was platonic. 

He watched as you shifted uncomfortably. His brows furrowed, and you finally met his unyielding gaze. “We are friends, you’re right,” you said. 

Mithrun finally looked away. Relief flooded your chest as he chose to instead stare at the wall in thought. “I’ve known you all my life. You’ve never treated me lesser because of my biological father, or because I’m younger, or because I’m not the heir. You’ve always seen me and Arendil… equally.” Mithrun said the word ‘equally’ as if it was a bad thing. He only let his scowl last for half a second before he schooled his expression and continued, “You know I appreciate you, right?”

For once, he seemed genuine. You felt yourself melt a little. “I know.”

“You know, I…”

A pause for dramatic effect, of course, letting the anticipation rise so you would be appropriately charmed by his next words. You put up a hand to stop him, “I know you're just trying to get me to like you more than Arendil."

Mithrun’s eyes widened, “That’s not it.”

That was definitely it. 

“I know you. I know how you are,” you said as you turned around to continue folding laundry, an excuse to keep your nervous hands busy. 

Another pause followed your words. Then, “...You know me?”

You nodded. 

Mithrun allowed himself to frown. It was flattering, in a way, that he would let his true emotions show in front of you. 

He looked at you differently, then. There was no more charm in his stare, no more sparks of attraction. As you met his eyes, they widened slightly. His smile shook and his brows furrowed to create a little crease on his forehead. 

You realized it, then, that Mithrun was unnerved. 

Of course he was unnerved, he’d just realized you could see right through him. 

“Sorry,” you couldn’t help but apologize, though you knew you’d done nothing wrong, “I probably went too far with that comment.”

A beat of silence passed. Your hands lingered on the shirt you were folding, while Mithrun’s hands tightened as he crossed his arms over his chest, closing you off. 

Still, he seemed to prepare himself for the sliver of vulnerability that he was willing to offer. “Sometimes, I feel like you’re the only one who actually knows me.”

You had to resist the urge to say ‘well, who’s fault is that?’ 

Instead, you nodded, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Truly?”

“Truly,” you echoed. 

Mithrun leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell and he closed his eyes. A silver curl fell into his face as he tilted his head into his hand. He was letting the words sink in, the implication take root. 

All you could do was wonder what might come of this.

Mithrun falls in love slowly. He does not enjoy it. 

He goes through four of the seven stages of grief. 

Shock and denial: ‘I don’t see them in that way, their smile is just pretty and my heart only skips when they look at me because we’re friends.’

Pain and guilt: ‘I shouldn’t be feeling this way about them, they're my caretaker...’

Anger and bargaining: ‘Maybe if they weren’t so considerate and wonderful then I wouldn’t be feeling this way. How annoying. Perhaps I can convince them to choose me in the end, or at least get their attention on me.’ 

Depression: ‘They will never love me the way I love them…’

This elf is suffering. Nobody knows that, though, because he’s an expert at hiding it. 

But in the end, Mithrun shrugs it all off and decides that he wants you. 

When he sees you giving his brother attention, Mithrun feels the deep urge to rip out his brother’s throat. Then he chides himself for being so violent, the blood would make stains on the floor and you’d be angry with him…

Still, you treat them both equally. It drives him up a wall. You obviously don’t prefer his brother over him in any way, but that’s not good enough for Mithrun. He wants all of you. He wants every ounce of your love and care, with absolutely nothing left for Arendil to take, like he does with everything else. (Mithrun has very little self-awareness of how warped his view is at this point.)

Part of his desire for you stems from the need to possess, his insecurity, his desire to be loved, to be the favorite. However, beneath all of that, there’s more. Mithrun also appreciates and admires you as a person. You’re one of the few people that he trusts and can be himself around. You encourage him to be a better person— he doesn’t take that encouragement, but it’s still a nice quality of yours. 

And you make him feel important. How could he not fall in love with you?

Yet, he doesn’t quite comprehend the complexities of genuine love.

 “I think you should know that I’m—”

You clamped your hand over his mouth. It was like a door shutting in his face, barring him from treading down a dangerous path. His eyes widened and he leaned back to get away from you, but you kept your hand where it was. 

The grass beneath your knees was soft. The shade from the tree you and Mithrun sat under was pleasant. And the topic of conversation was horrifying. 

“Don’t,” you told him, “I know what you’re going to say and…”

And what? The words ‘it’s inappropriate’ sat on your tongue, but was that truly the only reason you stopped him? It was a good excuse, certainly, but the tangled knot of your relationship with Mithrun wasn’t ready to be unraveled quite yet. 

When he gave you a look that provided a slight bit of reassurance, you let him go. You sat back, folding your hands on your knees and meeting his silver gaze. His head was tilted down a little as he stared at you. His brain was working overtime, most likely churning out a myriad of thoughts like those factory lines in Dwarven cities. There was anger, betrayal, hurt, resentment, fear. You accepted each flash of emotion like a prisoner accepts the crack of a whip— which was begrudgingly, but with no choice in the matter. 

“I love you,” Mithrun whispered, despite it all. 

“I know,” was the only response you could give him. 

Yet, he had his shovel ready, willing to dig up this grave. “Why?”

“Why am I not returning your feelings?” You asked, though you already knew that was what he was asking. With a sigh, you absently twirled a blade of grass around your index finger, then continued, “Because I care about you, I really do. And I don’t want to ruin us.”

His expression hardened, “How would this ruin us?”

You looked up to meet his eyes once more, “You only want me because you want to be loved, and I’m the best candidate for that. You don’t want me for me, you want me for you.”

“How could you possibly know that?” He seethed. 

“Because I know you,” you murmured, “I know you far too well.”

Mithrun is determined to understand what you mean. However, he doesn’t really have anybody to ask for advice on that particular matter. 

He isn’t one to settle unless necessary. But it’s starting to feel necessary, with how often you stop him from confessing, with how you avoid his touch, with how you won’t hold his gaze most of the time. 

Mithrun is going mad. 

He doesn't particularly care about the girl his brother likes, since his mind is on you, but it's offensive to him that his brother thinks he has a chance with such a cute and refined girl.

It does please Mithrun, though, that Arendil is not interested in you. That makes things easier and slightly calms his boiling blood. 

However, the fact that someone actually likes Arendil back drives him a bit mad too. 

You call him out on this, saying that he’s like a toddler who only wants a certain toy when another kid is playing with it. He chooses to ignore that comparison. 

He still very much has feelings for you. He does whatever you ask, though you never ask for anything, really. If you mention that you like a certain item, he’ll get it for you. If you mention that you want to see a certain play, he suddenly has two tickets to it. 

He is doing his best to court you and you know it, his parents know it, everybody knows it. 

You try to sway him away from doing these things. It’s not proper for him to act like that. He agrees, with his desire to keep a good reputation amongst the nobility and his peers. However, that doesn’t stop him from trying to win you over in secret. (Which doesn’t actually help his case much, because you can’t help but think ‘he’s ashamed of having feelings for a servant. wow.’)

At this point in life, Mithrun does genuinely like people and can be truly cheerful and kind. He’s a social butterfly and enjoys chatting. You allow these interactions, spending hours just talking with him. It’s so easy, it’s so comfortable. Those moments are when you’re closest to being pulled into his path; when his gravity threatens to steal you, a passing comet, and hold you hostage in his orbit.

And sometimes you wonder what it would be like to give in. 

Mithrun knows you wonder that, though, because he knows you just as well as you know him. And he uses that to his advantage, of course. 

He shamelessly flirts when you’re alone together. He’ll brush your hair out of your face and let the tips of his fingers gently caress the edges of your ear. And when you shiver despite your best attempts not to, he only smiles. He knows when he's winning.

He would whisper to you a lot. He likes people-watching and has a lot to say. He can be a total Regina George when he wants to. 

But really, he does like people, he just can’t help but be distrusting and judgmental. His entire self is a result of elven society mixed with subtle emotional neglect. 

Somehow, Mithrun has both an inferiority complex and a superiority complex. It just depends on the situation. 

He’s very jealous. And he gets clingy when he’s jealous, especially if you’re paying attention to his brother. He’ll swoop in, put his hand on your back, start flirting with you, etc. I headcanon that his brother is incredibly oblivious, but kind, and just thinks to himself ‘wow I’m so happy my little brother has found love : )’

You’re not together though. You slip away from his touch often. You ignore his flirting. You maintain your dignity and position. 

Except for when his family receives the letter about the Canaries recruitment. And they announce that they’re sending Mithrun. They give this speech about how he’s bringing honor to the House of Kerensil by fighting the evil that exists in this world… Mithrun knows it's a load of crap. His parents are sending him to his death. 

It’s the biggest proof that he’s not their favorite, that he’ll never be their favorite. No matter how much they talk up his charm and looks, he’s still the bastard son. He’s a trinket on their shelf, but if they need to make room they won’t hesitate to store him in a dusty box in the basement. 

And his brother gets to live; sweet and innocent and ignorant, undeserving of all that he gets. Mithrun hates the air he breathes. 

And when he’s about to leave for the Canaries, you finally admit it. You admit that you love him. And…

His bitterness only grows. If he wasn’t sent to the Canaries… If he was the first born, the heir, the one that was wanted…

In the dungeon, he sees how his brother gets the girl. The girl doesn’t matter, it’s what that image represents that angers him. It’s what his world looks like now; he’s a slave to the government sponsored death squad, and his brother is getting all he’s ever wanted. 

And then there’s you. You love him, but can you be together? No. 

With mirror shards on the floor and the soft clop of hooves, Mithrun's life changes entirely.

[sethsclearwater]

Hi!!!! I have absolutely fallen in love with your Embry call writings 🤍🌙 I was wondering if I could request a camping trip fic where the pack goes camping for a while and just the fun and cute things you and Embry would do together. I think them cuddling by a camp fire or sleeping in a tent together would be so cute

love this lol!

...

"i think i'm genuinely going to wring jared's neck tomorrow if he picks up another one of those fuckin' bugs," you grumbled as you stepped into the tent you were sharing with your imprinter, haphazardly stepping over embry so you could get to your side of the makeshift bed you two had set up.

embry let out a breathy laugh, not looking bothered in the slightest as he had one arm bent and resting behind his head while the other rested on his bare abdomen, the blanket resting right at his hips.

"i think kim already gave him an earful about it if that helps anything," he soothed, watching you adoringly as you rolled your eyes, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it into the duffle bag on the other side of the small tent.

he watched you, clearly a bit entranced by you while you got changed into some pajamas but not in a sexual way - something you'd gotten used to since you started dating embry. although he was definitely obsessed with your body, he wasn't constantly trying to fuck you which you learned to appreciate seeing how sore you usually were after.

"i hope she did. i'm pretty sure i got bit by at least 3 of those things thanks to him," you added, your jeans joining your shirt as you pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top - the unforgiving heat the past few days making you even more grateful you'd opted to bring some lighter clothes with you.

embry just let out another breathy laugh, lifting his hand from his abdomen to take your hand into his, helping you get down next to him so you could join him on the bed. it wasn't comfortable by any means but having the option to sleep half on top of embry had saved your back from aching the past few nights.

you were quick to lay down with him, both of you laying on opposite sides so you could face each other, "well the good news is we should be leaving tomorrow so you and your bug bites don't have to last much longer," he teased, both of you letting out laughs at that one.

you had definitely enjoyed camping with the pack, something you knew embry knew, but you were definitely more than ready to get back to the comfort of your apartment and take a much needed everything shower.

before you could respond to embry, the zipper to your tent was being undone and none other than jared cameron stuck his head through the entryway, lighting up when he saw you and embry were still up, "bold move cameron," you started, playfully glaring at him as you sat up, fully ready to sprint out of the tent in the event that he had another one of those fucking bugs with him.

"he already fucked you this morning - no way you two were going to be going at it again," he laughed when your glare deepened, your sex life with embry an unfortunate casualty to the public pack mind-link.

"at least one of us is getting laid," you countered and embry let out a loud laugh with that one, his chest reverberating with the intensity of it at jared scowled at you, clearly not expecting your mutual allies (embry and kim) to have dished out the details when you asked them earlier that day.

"you know i was coming here to make a peace treaty but clearly you're far too wicked to come to a truce-" jared drolled dramatically, "i even had a s'more for you and everything," he added, sticking his hand in the tent to show off his metaphorical white flag, a rather good looking s'more.

your scowl turned to a smile as you suddenly realized just how much you had wanted a s'more, suddenly much more ready to forge a truce with the shapeshifter, "the s'more definitely helps your case," you started, voice trailing off as you looked up at him, "but i will only call a truce if you agree to not bring another one of those bugs around me again," you negotiated, smiling even bigger when you felt embry's hand slide over yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he silently backed up your truce.

jared, always a woman pleaser, seemed to ponder your proposition for a moment before slowly nodding, "you have my word y/l/n," he agreed, handing you the s'more before he was saluting you, a goofy smile on his face as he winked at your imprinter before ducking back out of the tent.

you laughed, zipping the tent shut with your free hand before you were laying back down with embry, "you want half?" you asked, breaking the s'more in half as you already knew his answer.

embry's smile deepened, both of you wearing the expressions only love drunk fools would know, and took half of the s'more from you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, "you're the best," he mused, brown eyes twinkling as he watched you take a big bite of jared's truce s'more.

you could hardly contain your laugh as you chewed, quickly swallowing before you responded, "oh i know," you teased, squealing when embry placed a big kiss on your lips. your giggles were muffled by his lips on yours, both of you almost immediately falling into each other as you enjoyed your final night of camping.

[jacaerysgf]

The Rockstar and Me

requested: would it be okay, if I requested a rockstar!jace x reader? were theve been best friends since childhood and the reader has a crush on jace. jace is a really popular upcoming rockstar and is super busy. he dosnt see reader the same way (just as there bestfriend) and kind neglects the reader bc he's really busy. so one night the reader has enough and they decide they need to take a break from there friendship, so they don't talk for a while. and then jace kinda realises he missed up and took the readers love for granted. In this time he he realizes he like her too.

w.c: 1.6k

c.w: just some minor angst and some fluff :3, not proofread

masterlist - requests open

--

You are going to scream.

Not of horror and certainly not of pleasure but you were just so annoyed.

Your roommate would not stop playing their fucking songs, most people would call you crazy but you swear you were about to look for a new apartment and put in big red letters, DO NOT REPLY IF YOU LIKE THE WEST DRAGONS. You have nothing against their music but it all just leads back to him.

Childhood best friend and crush turned ex-best friend rockstar Jacaerys Velaryon. He was your best friend for so long and you had liked him, a part of you still does. A part of you still misses him but you did what you had to do.

You could not just sit around and let him ignore you like that, time and time again he would blow you off to the point you grew sick of it and blocked his number and never looked back. You didn’t just ghost him. instead opting to send him a long messages about how you needed space and he was no longer the guy you knew anymore and told him you were gonna reach out anymore.

That was three months ago and your sure he hasn’t even fucking read it let alone try to reply to it. Three months since your life flipped upside down, moving to a new place, still in the same city but further away from him, new job and some new friends, it was odd at first and still is, being away from him but you won’t just let yourself be walked all over like that.

You had planned to stay in tonight like you normally would but your roommate had other plans, standing in the middle of the room bickering with you while you try to block out the sound of their music in the background.

“I don’t wanna go out sab.” “Come on live a little, come out to the bar with me.” “Maybe another night.” “Nope you are coming tonight. right now. get dressed.”

With that she sprints out of the room and you groan knowing she won’t take no for an answer and get up to get ready. Its just one night out, it won’t be so bad, plus it a good excuse so you don't have to hear his music anymore.

Yet when you walk into the bar its packed with people lining up in front of the stage, you turn to sab and tilt your head. “What is going on?”

She looks at you with a big grin on her face, “I didn’t tell you, oh my god the west dragons are performing here in a few.” Your stomach drops.

No you had to leave, maybe you could fake an illness? No she would catch on and force you to stay. You could make yourself throw up? that would cause too much of a scene. You were definitely going to be sick when you see the lights dim and they walk up on the stage.

He’s the drummer he should not even see you right? you’ll just sit at the bar and count down the seconds until the show is over and you can book it out of the room. Aegon greets the crowd as the groups lead singer and your stomach continues to churn. You met him a handful of times and he was always nice to you, he had a nice voice you could agree but you felt so sick anytime you heard their songs.

The show went on without a hitch and you wish the ringing in your ears would get louder so you wouldnt have to hear it. You find yourself reminiscing about your time with jace with every song that plays. You miss him. Much more than you’d like to admit.

You dont allow your eyes to drift behind aegon, yet you hear him, the sound of the drums, it haunts you, sometimes you can see his hands peak out, when aegon moves you can see his dark curls but never look too close to see his face.

They are taking a mini break with aegon entertaining the crowd, the show is almost over, you could not wait to go take a shower and try to act like this night never happened. Aegons eyes drift around the crowd while he’s talking and they land on you, you watch as his eyes widen and he stumbles over his speech for a moment as he turns back for a second to look at jace.

That was not good. Not good at all. “What was that? do you think he thinks your cute?” “definitely not.” Your words come out more strained than you would like and she looks at you confused, “Is something wrong?”

You open and close your mouth unable to know what to say. Your chest feels like its closing in on its self as she grabs your shoulders worriedly. “I need some air.” You quickly stand and rush out of the bar, sab quickly following after you. The two of you don’t notice the pairs of eyes that trail after you.

You lean against the wall on the outside and try to catch your breath. You did not think this would affect you so much, maybe because your whole life has been around him that now it just feels odd that he’s not around. This whole thing reminded you too much of going to his gigs and him coming up to you after the show to ask you what you thought.

“Who cares if i liked it jace? the people loved it.” “I care, you matter more to me than them.”

“Okay what the hell was that?” You run your hands along your face and stare at sab as she looks at your worried. “Its nothing.”

“oh fuck off its not nothing, nobody just runs out the room looking like they just saw their ex boyfriend over nothing.” She gasps at her own words and covers her mouth, “Oh my god wait did you actually date aegon? fuck if i knew i wouldnt have brought you here im sorry-” “I didn’t date ageon sab and i didnt date any of them.” “Then what happened?”

The two of you freeze as someone clears their throat and sab gasps as she turns around. “Im sorry to interrupt but, do you mind if we talk?” Jace. He was staring right at you. Sab looks between the two of you and gives you a look that says she wants to hear all about this before she runs off.

You stand in silence,, not wanting to be the first to speak. He puts his hands in his pockets and kicks on of the rocks on the ground. “How,,, um how are you?” “Im good.” He nods and continues to simply look anywhere but your face. “Thats good thats good um..” Its awkward. So awkward. It was never this way before but you guess thats just what time apart does to people. And you hate it.

“How are you?” He looks up at you shocked before he stumbles over his words, clearly very nervous. “Im good, im good, um, no no im not good actually. I miss you, so much.” Your breath hitches as you watch him continue to speak, “I regret how i treated you, so much. Im so sorry i miss you more than anything please, i just want us to be friends again, ill do anything to make it up to you.”

You don’t know what to say what to do. This is what you’ve been dreaming of for so long but your heart aches at the thought of returning to being just friends.

“I can’t be friends with you jace.” He stumbles back as if you had shoved him and he looks around attempting to compose himself. You swear you can see tears glazing in his eyes, “I um,” His voice cracks as he speaks and he coughs into his arm, “I understand yes of course, im sorry for bother-”

“I cant be friends with you jace because i cant bare being just friends. All ive ever wanted for so long was to be more with you, and if i go back to being just friends ill spend the rest of my life miserable because ill just be dreaming to be more with you.”

You do not even know when you had begun crying but you feel the tears begin to run down your face as you close your eyes and tilt your head down towards the ground. You feel his hands grip your face and pull you up to look at him, seeing his own tears running down his face.

“Im sorry, im so sorry. I love you. Im sorry it took me so long to realize this and that i had to be apart from you to know but ive realized i need you, i love you so much youre my best friend, the only person i need, i love you.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You dont mean it.” “I do i do mean it, i love you so much.”

He presses his forehead against yours and you sob harder. “I love you jace.”

“I love you so much, i will work everyday to earn your forgiveness to even be worthy or your love.”

He shakily presses his lips against yours in a peck and you two smile at one another.

“No more ignoring me?”

“Never, never again.”

--

perm jace taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @ravenn-darkholme

[paradiseprincesss]

hi!! if ur requests r still open could we get a fic w robert fischer based on deja vu by olivia rodrigo? like maybe reader and robert had like a summer fling but to her it felt like more ykwim 😭 ive kinda been in the mood for some angst lately LOL

btw i love ur fics i start tweaking a lil whenever u post 💀💞

do you get deja vu? | robert fischer

hi anon, first of all thank you! you're so sweet, i really hope you enjoy this & i apologize that it took me so long to post it. i don't know why but i kept revising this fic over and over again. i wanted it to live up to your expectations LOL.

summary: sometimes we don't realize how much things meant to us until we no longer have it.

warnings: smut, p in v, angst, lovers to strangers, robert fucks up lol and now he's forever sad, mdni 18+ only

word count: 2.3k

the city of malibu was breathtaking; every moment spent here was somehow better than the last — how could a place be so beautiful? as you sat in the passenger side of robert's brand new luxury vehicle, you took in the beauty that you were residing in, whilst robert was taking in the beauty of you.

you weren't totally sure how this whole thing happened — but god, did it mean everything to you.

robert had approached you in a bar while you were out with your girlfriends in the city, offering to buy you a drink. one look at his face and you were agreeing because honestly; who would turn down a man like him?

after your friends encouraged you to keep talking to the handsome stranger, who introduced himself as robert, you two just clicked. conversation flowed effortlessly between the both of you, and soon enough, the two of you were going on your first official date.

it was safe to say that robert had charmed you completely, he had you enamoured with him — infatuated, truly. he was a true gentleman, classy and organized, not to mention that he came from money. after a handful of very upscale, fancy, and luxurious dates, the two of you had began seeing each other regularly.

neither of you had put an actual "title," per se, on what you had going on between the two of you, but at this point in time — you didn't see the harm.

so that's the story of how you ended up in robert's luxury car, speeding down the roads of malibu whilst he took you on a weekend getaway here. far, far away from the city you two both resided in.

"i'm craving ice-cream," you said to robert while the two of you were stopped at a red light, "strawberry, specifically."

"what, like right now?" robert asked with a small chuckle, sighing as he admired your breathtaking beauty underneath the heat of the malibu sunshine.

"yes, like right now."

"okay, let's go get some then." robert decided, his baby blue eyes melting your heart as a smile tugged at his lips.

true to his word, robert drove the both of you to a nearby ice-cream shop, and got you your strawberry ice-cream — one spoon for two. that afternoon was spent sharing laughs, sweet kisses, and the strawberry ice-cream that you'd been craving.

even though robert came from money and had more than you'd ever thought someone could have, it wasn't his wealth and status that snagged your heart. it was him, just good old robert fischer. not his money, not his materialistic things, not his cars, no — just who he was.

robert was caring. he was so considerate, listened to you, and was always there for you when you needed him the most. it felt like he was yours, and you were his — and that's how things should've been.

that's how the story should have ended.

but you know what they say; all good things have to come to an end at some point.

"robert," you said breathlessly, "take this dress off of me, please."

"sweetheart," he whispered against your ear as he unzipped your designer dress, "you're so beautiful, you know that?"

"i love—" you paused, suddenly hyperaware of the words that were about to leave your mouth, "i love that you took me here."

you weren't sure if you should've said it — i love you, that is.

robert and you had been seeing each other for the entirety of the summer by the time he'd taken you to malibu, but again; to you it felt like more than a fling. you just weren't sure where he stood with this whole thing between you and him.

"anything for you, sweetheart. i'd do anything." robert replied softly, turning you around as he slipped you out of the dress.

stood in your lacy, white, la perla lingerie along with matching jimmy choo's and stockings (courtesy of robert, of course), you face him with a blush. "how does it look?" you ask shyly, to which robert smiles and sighs happily in bliss.

"you..." he whispered, trailing off for a moment, "you're just so perfect — how are you mine?"

"yours?"

"mine, and mine only, sweetheart. don't ever forget it."

you'd soon come to never forget it — just not in the way you'd hoped.

robert took your hand in his gently, guiding you to the huge, king-sized, luxurious bed in his miami penthouse. no hotels over here; this is robert fischer were talking about — he owned homes down here.

you found your way into his bed, laid up in the pile of silk pillows, as robert found his way between your legs with his hands wrapped up in your hair. he kissed you passionately with a hunger that you'd never seen from him before.

you took your time helping him out of his suit, being dainty and deliberate with your movements — maybe you felt like being a tease tonight. after you'd gotten him out of your clothes, your lacy bra was long gone, but his hands wandered down to the scrunched lace of your underwear.

"may i?" robert asked sweetly, his eyes darting between your pretty face and perky breasts, causing you to blush profusely.

"y-yes," you whimpered, "i can't wait anymore."

"god, when you say things like that — i don't think i can either, sweetheart." robert groaned softly, finally pulling down your white lace panties.

up until this point — you and robert hadn't actually had sex yet. you thought it was sweet; special, even. you thought he really liked you, that he didn't want to sleep with you until you felt ready. obviously, you took this as a sign that he deeply cared about you as a person, in more than just a "fling" way.

as his cock stretched you open perfectly, you arched your back and let out a soft moan, as did he. he started to move in and out of your soaking cunt gently, truly taking the time to make sure you were enjoying this as much as he was.

his cock was thick — it had you feeling fuller than you'd ever felt before from previous partners, and it felt like his cock was made for you. with the way it stretched your pussy out perfectly, hitting every spot just right, bringing you closer and closer to the edge with each thrust he gave you.

"so beautiful," robert praised through gritted teeth, "and so tight, fuck."

"r-right there! mmph!" you moaned softly as his cock brushed up against that spongy spot inside of you, causing your cunt to clench around him.

"right there? is that it, sweetheart?" robert cooed, making you nod feverishly.

"yeah," you said breathlessly, "right — f-fuck! gonna cum!"

"thaaaat's it, my pretty girl. drench my cock so i can fill you up with my cum." he encouraged, causing you to see stars as you came around his length.

your pretty little noises pushed robert over the edge a minute or two later, his hips snapping into your cunt as he fucked his cum into you. as you looked up at robert, he had a small smile on his face and his cheeks were dusty. you returned the smile, and he sighed as he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in his embrace tightly after he'd pulled out.

he whispered your name to you softly, causing you to stare up at him with admiration and love. "yeah?" you say softly, intertwining your hands with his as the two of you cuddled in between the sheets.

"i never want you to leave," he said, voice saccharine, "you mean so much to me, sweetheart."

"i—" you stammered, unsure if this was a good time to say it; but you figured it would be. especially after what he'd said to you, after the way he made love to you. "i love you, robert."

you smiled to yourself, but frowned when you realized you were just living in a memory — something that only existed in the past now. reality hit you like a freight train as you were brought back to your current situation; in the same bar you'd met robert at once months ago.

you weren't in miami with him anymore — you didn't even know who he was anymore; perhaps just a fragment of your past. you hadn't spoken since the end of august when the both of you had gotten back from your weekend getaway.

things had changed since then.

it was the middle of a bleak november evening, and the cold weather was depressing. summer had left as quickly as it had come.

"are you okay?" your friend asked as you sipped on your martini, looking as beautiful as ever — but for nobody in particular anymore. "that's your third drink, you sure you there's not something you want to talk about?"

"actually, there is," you say, turning to her as the two of you sat in a secluded little table in the corner of the bar, "doesn't she look familiar?"

as you pointed across from you, your friends eyes trailed along until they stopped at a woman who looked eerily similar to you.

she wore the same type of clothes that you did, down to the brand of high heels. her hair was the same colour as yours, so were her eyes, and not to mention she looked like she could be you if you didn't look too hard.

"looks like you found your doppelganger." your friend joked, nudging your arm but to her surprise, you didn't laugh — nor did you come close to even cracking a smile. "are you sure you're okay?"

"look at who she's with." you say bitterly, and your friend looked back at the woman to see that she was now accompanied by a man — a man who she knew as robert fischer.

at first, when robert walked into the bar on the crisp autumn night, you had to do a double take to make sure you were really seeing what you thought you had seen. once you'd confirmed it was him, you were about to grab your purse and drag your friend out of the bar with you — until you saw who he'd come with.

the woman hanging on his arm was a walking reflection of you; it was like everything was all reused. you silently hoped that maybe you weren't just another one of those girls who he pretended to care about; just saying whatever to get into their pants because they were just his type and nothing more.

but this woman couldn't just be his "type" — she was a mirror image of you.

"is that—?"

"yeah," you answered your friend, "it is."

"didn't he tell you that you guys couldn't see each other anymore because of his fathers passing?" she asked you, to which you nodded, throwing back the rest of your drink.

"i told him i loved him and he told me he didn't feel the same. after everything we did together and everything he said. after he called me his and his only — the thing with his father was just some excuse."

"what a piece of shit," your friend scoffed, "but it seems like he might still be thinking about you — i mean, it looks like he's looking for you in every other woman."

"do you think he gets deja vu when he's with her?" you suddenly ask, causing your friend to laugh softly.

"probably," she tells you, "i mean, who's to say he isn't going out with her just to feel like he has you again?"

"do you really think so?"

before your friend could answer your question, you heard your name being called as you both peered over at the sound. at first, your heart dropped because of the familiar voice that had called out your name — but when you looked over at him, you almost flatlined on the spot.

he hadn't even realized you were at the bar, and that's when it hit you — she even had the same name as you, which made everything ten times worse? or awkward? or weird?

"oh shit," your friend said with shock, "she has the same name as you, too. you can't tell me my theory isn't true now."

"my god." you whisper, feeling at a loss for words in this very moment as you watched the two of them together.

he had his arm wrapped around her waist the same way he used to do with you, but the way he looked at her was completely different. there was something missing in his once lively, baby blue eyes — he seemed so blank. like he was there but also, he wasn't really.

you overheard fragments of their conversations; they were talking about the songs you two used to listen to together, and he told her all about how those were "his favourite songs." you also heard him tell some familiar jokes — the same jokes you two used to laugh about.

back when he was yours for the time being.

"i'm going home, you coming?" you ask your friend, swallowing hard as you felt yourself become teary-eyed.

"yeah, yeah, i'm coming."

as you both made your way to the exit, you took one last look back at robert and his new girl, just to get one last glance — but when you looked back at him, he was already looking at you.

time stopped for a minute, and you'd sworn you'd never seen someone look so full of regret in all your years of living. every time you thought he was going to look away, he didn't. he continued to look at you as if you were otherworldly — as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing in that very bar.

but you reminded yourself of the heartache he caused you.

so, with a heavy heart, you walked out of the bar as you turned away from him, letting him relive the past and linger in the feeling of deja vu.

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii @stsrfujid

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k words

warnings: : explicit language, mentions of weed/being high, nothing else really?

summary: you haven’t even known steve for twenty-four hours, but sure, why not pretend to date for a month?

CHAPTER TWO | ❝𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆❞

Fall Semester 2015

Later, you would wonder what to attribute it to. 

Was it because of the way he smiled at you? Because of the way his knee lightly brushed against yours? Or was it the weed that made your mind hazy and made you realize things that you probably wouldn’t have recognized if you were sober? 

You weren’t sure, but you knew that things were changing for you, shifting into something deeper.

You’d only been friends with Eddie for a month, but it felt like so much longer. He was quickly and easily becoming your closest friend; best friend, even. You thought back to the late-night conversations you’d have in his roommate-free dorm room where you both told each other things that no one else knew— fears that felt stupid and completely irrational, and embarrassing stories from childhood that were previously meant to be taken to your respective graves. Somehow, almost immediately after the moment in the elevator, nothing ever felt awkward between you two again. Everything just felt right. 

“This one’s probably my favorite,” Eddie said as a new song started playing, which pulled you out of your thoughts. He reached out to grab his phone and turned the volume up as high as it could go. He had already gotten a noise complaint from the RA about playing his speakers too loud so he opted for using his phone instead to show you some of his favorite songs from a band he really liked but you hadn’t heard of.

You nodded at his words, focusing on them rather than the feel of his knee still brushing yours. The two of you were sitting across from each other on his bed and his phone sat in the middle, playing the unfamiliar song that you actually found yourself liking a lot. You hadn’t been sitting this close to one another at first, and you couldn’t recall who had made the first move forward to close some of the distance.

“I like this one,” You said, recrossing your legs so that you were no longer touching him. The subtle touch was starting to make your mind shortcircuit a bit and you felt way too close to saying something that you probably shouldn’t have. 

He gave you an amused smile. “Does that mean you didn’t like the others?”

You looked away from him then and leaned back, head easily finding one of his pillows. “No comment.”

You heard his laugh in response, which made you smile and you shut your eyes for a second, reveling in the sweet sound. 

It was everything, You’d finally decide later when you were a lot less high and much more in control of your thoughts. Every little thing that he’d do that you were on the receiving end of. That certain kind of smile that felt as if it was reserved only for you coupled with the neverending niceness that showed how much he cared about you— he’d let you take his bed whenever you had to spend the night in his room because your roommate was being the worst, and he’d always offer to walk with you to whatever building your first class was in the mornings, even though it was in the opposite direction of where he needed to be. 

You liked him. A lot. Maybe too much. And you had no idea what you would do about that. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

You: Is the offer still on the table?

You: Oh and I’m talking about the fake dating thing (if you somehow forgot) 

Anything that resembled regret had yet to settle in, and at this point, you wondered if it ever would. 

Yes, you felt a little embarrassed about backtracking and suddenly wanting to go along with Steve’s idea that you had initially been so adamant about not doing— and you had a feeling that he’d say something equivalent to an “I told you so” because of that. But still, you didn’t regret bringing it up again and asking him. Your mind was still telling you that doing this was worth a shot and maybe just maybe it would actually end up being a good thing. 

You knew that doing this could potentially ruin everything— just like you thought that everything would be ruined if you outwardly admitted your feelings for Eddie and they weren’t reciprocated— but this fake dating thing felt like the best way to finally do something about your crush without directly “professing your love” and possibly fucking up the friendship in the process. 

You had waited until you were back in your apartment before you texted Steve. And now you stared at your phone for a second longer, looking at those two new messages sit in the very small text chain you two already had, which consisted of short and formal messages that were very evident of two people who did not know each other at all. In a way, it was a bit comical because you still barely knew this guy, yet somehow you were willing to pretend to date him. 

As you were about to set your phone down next to you on your desk and attempt to focus on an assignment that you needed to finish sooner rather than later, your phone was ringing in your hand and Steve’s name was taking over your screen. 

After the briefest moments of hesitation, you swiped to answer the call and placed your phone at your ear. “Hello?” 

“Hey,” Steve said. “So, what changed?” 

You didn’t expect him to get straight to the point— you also didn’t really expect him to immediately call you— but you had to admit it made sense; this would probably be easier to talk about out loud rather than through texts. 

“A lot’s changed, actually… I think you’re right, this fake dating thing could work, and it also might actually be the best thing to do.” You took a breath and shut your eyes before blurting out your next words. “Also, I may or may not have already told Eddie that we really hit it off last night and we’re planning to go on another date. And I’ll admit, if I hadn’t been high, I probably wouldn’t have said that to him, but I honestly still don’t think this is a bad idea. But, if you really don’t wanna do it anymore, I completely understand. Because it’s definitely an insane thing to do and probably a little weird too, maybe, and yeah… Sorry, I’m just rambling now.” 

You forced yourself to stop talking and waited for Steve to say something. At first, he was quiet, probably processing everything that you had just said. And what prevailed for the next few moments was the kind of silence that felt as if it lasted forever— when, in reality, it was probably only a second or two. 

“I still wanna do it.”

You were inwardly sighing in relief at his words and you actually smiled a little.  

“Okay,” You felt yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“Okay, so we should probably talk about it more to figure it all out, right? Are you free later?” 

“Yeah, I’ll text you my address.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You and Steve agreed to meet at seven; it was your suggestion because that would give you some time to actually focus on the school stuff you needed to do. However, that was much easier said than done because after you hung up with him, all you were able to think about was him and the fake dating plan and every little thing about it. How easily and quickly it consumed your mind almost felt concerning, but you’d never done anything like this before so you couldn’t help but think about even the smallest of details for it. 

A series of knocks rapping against your bedroom door pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out a loud enough “Yeah” and then you saw Robin entering your room seconds later.

“Hey, me and Vickie have to go see this play for one of our classes. It’s some free thing that the drama students are putting on, and apparently, it’s actually supposed to be pretty good.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it starts at eight. You wanna come too?” 

You almost said yes because that was exactly the kind of thing you wouldn’t have minded spending a Saturday night doing, you would’ve also texted Eddie to see if he wanted to come too. But then you remembered where you needed to be in half an hour, and you didn’t fully understand how it easily just slipped from your mind when it had been the only thing you could think about for the past few hours. 

“I can’t tonight. I’m actually, um, seeing Steve again.” 

“Ooh, really?” Robin stepped all of the way into your room then, shutting the door behind her and sitting at the foot of your bed. “So last night was good? You barely wanted to talk about it when you came home. I was pretty sure that it went shitty, but I didn’t wanna press you on it.” 

“No, yeah, it was good, actually. I was just way too tired to talk a lot about it last night,” You said with a quick shrug and then attempted to shift the conversation away from Steve. “Also, I was so invested in hearing you guys ramble about the reality show you watched.”

“Wait, seeing someone two days in a row is kind of a huge deal,” She said; your attempt at changing the subject failing. “If things start getting too serious between you guys, I’m gonna have to give him the parental third degree. I don’t care that Talia is older. I really wanna do it.”

You laughed a bit at her seriousness. “Okay, fine, yes, you can do it if it comes to that.” 

“Thank you, that’s all I ask for,” She smiled at you, and then things were quiet for a few moments before she asked, “So, you really like him?” 

You felt the sudden urge to tell her everything— how you’ve felt about Eddie for the past few years, how she had been the only person that you’d ever gotten close to telling that to, and how you were about to start this fake dating thing with Steve— but you couldn’t do it. You knew that it would just open up a huge can of worms and make everything even more complicated than it already felt. 

“Yeah, I think I do,” You said instead of the truth. 

“That’s great,” She said, smiling wider. “You’re breaking the single curse that has plagued us for the past, what is it, year at this point?” 

“What ever happened to that girl you were into last semester?” 

Robin shrugged. “We hung out a few times, but I don’t know, something just didn’t feel right.” 

The sound of the squeaky front door of the apartment opening and subsequently closing and then multiple voices entering the apartment halted your conversation for a moment. 

“I think that’s probably Talia’s study group.” 

You let out a laugh. “I feel like saying study group is a stretch.” 

The said “study group” consisted of a handful of Talia’s Psych major friends. They met up most Saturdays and would only “study” for an hour, and then the rest of the night was spent watching true crime documentaries in the living room. 

“So, what are you and Steve doing tonight? Do you want some outfit support? I can grab Vickie to help real quick too.”

You glanced down at the plain jeans and black V-neck sweater you were wearing that was a bit cropped; it was the same thing that you’d worn to Eddie’s earlier. “I think I’m just gonna wear this. We’re just hanging out at his place.”

“Oh,” Robin said, nodding. “Okay, everything I said last night about making sure to use protection still very much stands.” 

“Ew, Robs, stop,” You shook your head. “I’m feeling very tempted to get Vickie right now and have her hit you on the arm again.” 

She laughed as she stood up from your bed and headed toward your shut door. “I’ll take that as my cue to leave then. Have fun tonight!”

“Thanks,” You said, breaking your eyes from hers and turning back to look at the textbook you had opened on your desk that hadn’t been touched in hours. 

She closed the door behind her and you let out a soft breath. It didn’t really occur to you that lying to pretty much everyone in your life would be the hardest part of all of this. 

You grabbed your phone to find the last text Steve sent you, which was just his address. You figured that wherever he lived couldn’t be too far away and it wouldn’t be that much of a walk to get to him; the walk to and from Eddie’s place never took more than ten minutes. The most popular off-campus apartments, one of which you lived at, were spread out across a few streets close to the main part of campus and were all basically right next to each other; you assumed that Steve lived at one of them. 

Finally looking at his address, though, let you know how wrong you were. He lived close to thirty minutes away from you— and that was just by car, you didn’t even bother looking at what the walk would’ve been like. He also lived in an apartment building that you had never been to— you were rarely over by that side of town at all— but you knew that it was a small but insanely expensive building that only rich kids lived in. You remembered briefly looking up the place during your apartment hunt with Robin and Vickie and seeing the outrageous prices for three and four-bedroom apartments that only had one bathroom. You could rent two of the apartments you currently had at those prices, and you at least had your own bathroom here. 

Somehow, you actually weren’t that surprised to see that Steve lived there. You thought back to last night and his car, a vintage dark red BMW that looked perfect and probably cost a fortune to keep that way. 

You were calling him immediately and he answered after the second ring, speaking before you got the chance to. “You’re backing out of this, aren’t you?”

He sounded so certain that it honestly managed to annoy you a bit. “No, I’ve actually been thinking about this a lot so far, like the logistics and stuff and whatever. I’m calling because I didn’t realize how far you live from me and I need you to pick me up.” 

“Oh, okay,” He paused for a second. “Should we just do this at your place?” 

For a moment, you considered his words, but then, as if on cue, you heard the loud sounds of Talia’s friends laughing in the living room. And then you thought about how Robin and Vickie wouldn’t be leaving for the play for at least another hour and you really weren’t ready for Steve to get any sort of an introduction to everyone just yet. “No way, it’s kind of a madhouse right now.” 

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you have six thousand roommates,” He joked, and you actually cracked a small smile at that. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Somehow, Steve was at your place in twenty minutes and you were in the middle of finally getting somewhere for your assignment when you got his “I’m here” text. 

“So, you’ve been thinking about this a lot?” He asked as he turned the radio down a bit; you two had only been driving for a minute or so. When you nodded and said a simple “Yeah” in response, he continued. “Can I hear your thoughts?” 

For a second, you thought about where you should start, but your thoughts felt a little too messy to put into a super succinct order, so you just started talking. 

“Okay, so we need to decide how long we’re gonna do this. I don’t think we should drag it out too much, y’know? Maybe just like a month or so? And we obviously need to talk about how affectionate we’re gonna be with each other around other people, specifically Eddie. Also, do you think that all of this will seem really weird and fake because of how rushed everything’s gonna be between us? Oh, and what’s your parent situation about? I’m gonna have to meet them, right? So that you can prove to them that your “girlfriend” exists,” You went on and on, listing everything on your fingers until you two were stopped at a red light and you noticed the amused look on Steve’s face, which made you stop mid-ramble. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

He shook his head and shrugged. “I just think it’s a little funny how you were so against this whole thing last night, but you’re really into it now.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “I’ve never done something like this before, and aside from the occasional assignment, I hate half-assing shit, so of course, I’m gonna think about every little thing.” 

He held up his hands in mock surrender, still smiling at you. “Okay, got it.” 

The light turned green and his focus went back on driving. Things became quiet just for a second before he started talking again. 

“I think you’re right, a month should be enough time. If he’s gonna get jealous about us “being together” it’ll definitely happen sooner rather than later, so it would be dumb of us to do this for really long,” He explained and you were nodding along to his words. “And the PDA stuff around him doesn’t need to be excessive or anything; probably just hand-holding and simple stuff like that will be good. Also, I’m pretty sure every college relationship seems rushed, so this won’t feel any different from that.”

Maybe Steve had been thinking a lot about this too, or maybe he’d done something like this before. You weren’t sure which option would’ve been more surprising to you, but either way, you were realizing how right he was about everything he had just said; especially the last thing, which was what you'd been the most worried about. Your mind traveled back to the earliest stages of Eddie’s relationship with Chrissy, which you had pretty much a front-row seat to. How attached they became to each other after only their first few dates definitely felt abrupt and surprising to you, but it never felt rushed or fake. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” You said to Steve as you nodded again.

You two were in his apartment sitting in his living room when he finally decided to mention his parents. Steve was on the couch and you were on the floor because you were leaning over his coffee table with a notebook opened in front of you. It had been a mutual decision to write down all of the rules and stuff that you both came up with for the “fake dating plan” after you realized that there was a lot of thought going into this thing and you didn’t want anything that either of you said to be forgotten in a day or two. Steve pulled out an old notebook for you to write in; it was mostly full of past Economics notes, but it had a handful of empty pages toward the end. 

Everything he told you about his parents sounded like the plot of a movie or a book, and it was both surprising and fascinating to hear that shit like that actually happened in real life. Apparently, they were super intense about him settling down and getting into a serious relationship, so they were constantly trying to set him up with someone. They wanted him to be in a relationship that would lead to marriage by the time he graduates, and then married by twenty-four or twenty-five.

You truly couldn’t imagine your own parents caring that much about your love life, but apparently, rich people liked to do things differently. Steve hadn’t blatantly told you that he was rich, but he didn’t need to outwardly say it for you to know just how true that was. Case in point, his apartment was huge and really nice and you had tried your hardest not to look entirely awestruck by it when you first walked in, and he casually mentioned having to eventually take over “the family company;” which was also another reason why his parents were so intense about the whole marriage thing. Apparently, family businesses couldn’t be considered as such if the boss was single and a player. 

“I like being single and not getting involved in anything serious at all, but they really want me to settle down right now,” Steve finished his explanation. “So if they think that I finally have a girlfriend, they’ll get off my back for a while.”

You let out a small laugh. “I knew it.” 

“Knew what?”

“That you do that kind of thing all of the time. Going on dates and stuff,” You said, placing the pen you had in hand down on the notebook. You leaned back against the couch and looked up at him. “And it honestly makes sense. Pretty face, good at flirting, and big charmer. Girls probably love that shit.”

“Did you?” He asked, smiling at you. You almost rolled your eyes at how he almost too easily went back to flirting with you; now you realized it was probably just second nature for him. 

“If I wasn’t pining for someone else, I might’ve fallen for it.”

“Good to know that my charms still somewhat work then.”

You were suddenly thinking about an alternate universe where you had no feelings for Eddie and you really did end up liking Steve after the date last night. Would you have felt heartbroken that he never called you again or that he didn’t want something serious or long-term? You immediately pushed those thoughts away because the hypothetical answer really didn’t matter. You focused your mind on something else. 

“I’m only gonna be your “girlfriend” for a month, though, so how’s that gonna keep your parents from pestering you for longer than that?”

“I was thinking that I’d tell them that we’ve been together for three or four months, but that I didn’t want to mention you to them until things felt “serious.” They probably will want to meet you,” Steve said, and you nodded because you figured as such. “And then when I tell them that we’re over, I’ll say that it ended in some sort of fucked up way, and that will maybe get them to stop trying to set me up with their friends’ daughters for a while. Hopefully, at least, until the end of the summer.”

“You’re gonna make me a cheater, aren’t you?”

“Probably, yeah,” He responded with a quick shrug. “It’s either do that or be forced to go to the Hamptons for the whole summer and get set up with my future wife because they think I broke up with you or we ended things mutually but I’m still ready to be in a committed and long-term relationship.”

“They need to think you’re heartbroken,” You concluded for him.

“Exactly,” Steve nodded. “My dad probably won’t give a shit about the cheating, but my mom will and she’s the one that’s been the most adamant about the Hamptons thing.”

“Okay, in that case, I’m okay with you making me a cheater,” You said and then looked away from him, focusing back on the notebook. “This whole cheating talk has made me think of another rule to add that should probably be really obvious, but I think I need to put it anyway.” You picked up the pen again and wrote down, No dating other people while we do this. “I’m sorry, I know this will probably be really hard for you.” 

Steve rolled his eyes at your mostly joking words. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything. I know that if Eddie or one of your roommates saw me with someone else it would mess everything up.” 

“Yeah, exactly,” You said, glad that you two were on the same page about that. And you were now realizing that you two had actually been on the same page about pretty much everything you’d been talking about for the last hour. “Okay, and final thing— no matter what happens, we’re gonna go our separate ways once the month is up. Even if the plan doesn’t work or whatever else, we have to end it after a month.” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, agreed.”

You wrote that last thing down and then closed the notebook.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re officially fake dating now, I guess,” You looked up at Steve again and held out your hand toward him. He laughed for a second before grabbing your outstretched hand and you two shook for a second to “seal the deal.”

Once again, you waited. Waited for regret or something equivalent to start swirling deep down inside of you. But still, it wasn’t there. Maybe this actually was a good idea. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“Eddie’s band has a gig tomorrow night,” You said when Steve was parked outside of your apartment building, dropping you off at home. “Do you wanna come?” 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Steve answered with a quick nod. “It’ll be the first time he sees us “together.”” 

“Yeah, let’s hope this somehow works.”

“It will.” 

You really had no logical reason to trust how certain Steve sounded about everything right then, but you did anyway.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket

[octuscle]

Allez les bleus

Frederique, Marcel and Luc had to go to Berlin on business. They were all really looking forward to the trip. Although there was a lot to do - the three of them were assisting a French bank with the takeover of a German start-up by a French tech group - they were spending a few days without their wives and children. Frederique's children were already at university, which made the other two, whose children were still of primary school and children's card age, quite envious.

After landing in Berlin, there was a culture shock. None of them were soccer fans. They all played tennis or golf, Marcel had been quite a successful lacrosse player until he had to give up the sport two years ago at the age of 30 due to a knee injury. They hadn't realized that the European Football Championship was being held in Germany. The airport was decorated with UEFA posters, fans from all over the world were walking through the terminal, the cab rank was empty and the three of them had to take the S-Bahn into the city center.

They were surrounded by cheerful fans. Most of them were no longer sober. But all in a good mood. In their suits with their laptop bags and wheeled suitcases, the three of them were absolute strangers on the train. Even though the atmosphere was good, they were annoyed. They had already had a long day at work before they boarded the plane. They had actually been looking forward to a quiet evening. And not an odyssey on a crowded train.

The next shock came when they arrived at their hotel. It wasn't really a hotel. More like a bed and breakfast. In the middle of Berlin's gay district. The streets were not only decorated with the flags of the nations taking part in the European Championships, but also with rainbow flags. The pubs in the area mostly had black-taped windows and were obviously aimed at a fetish clientele. But even here, there were screens outside, people drinking beer and watching a football match. The atmosphere was great. But the three of them had imagined something different. This wasn't the Sofitel they usually stayed at. Whoever had booked this hotel would be ready for a rant. But now the three of them just wanted to go to bed. Looking for something to eat here for dinner was too exhausting for them at this time of night. They agreed on that. And drinking a beer on the street? Not on your life!

When Luc arrived in his room, he had to grin. Yes, this really wasn't what he was used to. But he'd never had a room with a sling in it either. In addition to the usual things, the bathroom also contained lubricant and condoms. Luc sent a picture to the WhatsApp group he had with Frederique and Marcel. Marcel replied with a picture of an Andreas cross. And Frederique sent a picture of a flyer that had been lying on his pillow:

"Yes, I got that too," wrote Marcel. Obviously a voucher for a beer in a pub down the street. "So, are you up for it?" "Tomorrow," Frederique replied. "I'm just too tired." The three of them wished each other a good night. Marcel put the contents of his suitcase in the cupboard. And there were soccer shorts and a jersey in the wardrobe. With a note saying "Welcome to UEFA Euro 2024" on it. "If you want to have fun, help yourself!". Marcel thought about it. He had googled that Spain were playing Italy today. Maybe not a bad game… He tried out the outfit. It looked a bit silly with his Hogan sneakers. It was also a bit tight and the pants were really short. But now to go downstairs, have a beer and watch the second half? Why not?

The atmosphere was great. The beer tasted better than expected. The second one too. And after the third, he had to piss. The pub's toilet was tiled in black. The lighting with black light was more than dim. Marcel could hear from the stalls that men were clearly having sex there. He just grinned. He was having fun. He took his cock out of his soccer shorts to pee. And before he knew it, a clean-shaven skinhead was kneeling in front of him and greedily opening his mouth. Shit, what the hell? thought Marcel and pissed in his open face. And then had his cock sucked.

When Marc came into the breakfast room the next morning, his two French colleagues were already sitting at the table. As usual, they were both as fit as a fiddle. Marc felt a little uncomfortable in his jeans and tight-fitting T-shirt, which showed off his body and tattoos to good effect. Hehehehehe, he thought. But these two will hardly feel comfortable in a gay guesthouse. And shit, he worked for a fintech start-up. That was a different world to the venerable BNP. The three of them went through the agenda again before leaving for Marc's employer. Marc was a developer and web designer. Numbers were not necessarily his world. But because he spoke fluent French, he had been assigned to look after the two investment bankers. It didn't matter, Frederique in particular was a hot DILF. There were worse fates… A ten-hour day, for example. Marc knew that they probably wouldn't be back at the boarding house before 9 pm. Then France played the Netherlands. The top match of the day. Surely the two of them would want to see that.

It was 9.10 p.m. when Marc was finally back in his room. He hurriedly put on his soccer outfit. He loved the knee-length soccer socks. They accentuated his shapely calves perfectly. The three of them had a date downstairs on the street. Marc had organized a high table in his local pub almost directly in front of the screen. He ordered three beers and waited. Damn it, Frederique had actually put on the outfit provided by the guesthouse. As Marc had suspected, he was in really good shape. Perhaps too well for the jersey that was stretching dangerously across Frederique's chest. Luc had only taken off his jacket and was still in his office outfit. He really wasn't interested in soccer at all. He took his beer from the table and walked a few steps away from the bar so that he could talk to his wife and children on the phone without being disturbed.

Frederique was in a good mood. He had drunk three beers by the half-time break. Marc hadn't managed that. And so he followed Frederique to the toilet at some point to relieve the pressure on his bladder. With a bit of luck, the horny skinhead from last night would be back. He loved it when a hot guy had Marc's piss flowing out of the corner of his mouth. When he arrived downstairs at the toilets, he could already see his piss face. Marc got ready. And grinned all over his face. That was definitely Frederique fucking a Dutch fan in one of the toilet cubicles.

When Fred and Marc came to breakfast together, Luc barely raised an eyebrow. He didn't care that they were both dressed far too casually for his taste. He wasn't a start-up hipster. He was just providing them with the fresh money they needed to expand. And Luc and his employer were making a good profit. No, he raised an eyebrow because they both came out of Marc's room. Fred almost naked, in just his soccer shorts. He disappeared straight back into his own room, only to sit down at the breakfast table a few minutes later, dressed more or less appropriately. Luc sighed and turned his attention back to the messages on his cell phone.

Fred and Marc were used to having to work on Saturday. They liked that about their job. Work hard, party hard. And with the new work lifestyle, the boundaries between work and leisure, between colleagues and friends, were becoming increasingly blurred anyway. If this had the effect of Fred shagging Marc in the loo in between, neither of them complained. But today they urged Luc to finish work reasonably on time. They definitely wanted to watch the Turkey-Portugal game. It was interesting from a footballing point of view, but above all they were looking forward to the hot Turkish fans. Hairy, muscular… Especially Marc's taste. But Frederique didn't mind fucking a hot, hairy ass either. If necessary, he sucked a circumcised cock first. Shit, he loves the Turks for the fact that they always keep their balls and cocks slick. Luc wasn't at the reception at 5:30 pm as arranged. When Fred knocked on his door, he opened it. On the phone. Still in his suit. Fred went to the wardrobe and pulled out the soccer outfit. "Come on, loosen up for once. It's Saturday night!" Luc smiled painfully. He pulled the door shut. And after a few minutes, still on the phone, he stepped out of his room in his soccer outfit. The two of them dragged him down to the street, Marc organized three beers and the party could begin.

Shit, some of those footballers are really fucking hot, Luc kept thinking to himself. No wonder he kept building a clearly visible tent in his shiny shorts. One of the Portuguese fans, a small but damn muscular guy, naked except for his boots and leather chaps, but with a Portuguese flag draped around his shoulders, noticed this more than clearly. The two of them shared a beer. And another. The Portuguese asked Luc if he had a room upstairs in the guesthouse, he had seen him come out of the door earlier. Luc licked his lips and nodded. Neither of them noticed how the game ended. By the time the final whistle blew, Luc was already tied to the St. Andrew's cross in his room.

"Mates, where are we watching the game? Here in the Bermuda Triangle or on the fan mile?" With his Germany jersey, it was clear what Luke's preference was. Marc and Fred would have preferred to stay here in their favorite pub, where they were drinking themselves into shape on this Sunday morning. The party and the sex before and after were more important to them. But Luke was a hardcore soccer fan. For him, it was a matter of honor to watch the game in front of the Brandenburg Gate. Marc and Fred took a sip of beer and sighed. "Okay, fan mile then," Marc moaned. "OMG, like if we can catch that Albania vs Spain match at our spot again, it'd be so lit! I ran into some seriously fire Albanians in the restroom yesterday, no joke." The three of them clinked glasses and laughed. The European Championship was great!

Pics by @ki-kink

[rottenpumpkin13]

Hello Pumpkin

I know you’re more GenKura leaning but do you have any Zakkura thoughts about their time before Nibelheim?

I think before Nibelheim their relationship looked a lot like:

• Touches that linger just a bit too long; first bumps that turn into Zack grabbing Cloud's arm and pulling him in for a hug, attacking him with kisses. One time, being the jokester he is, Zack wears lipstick that's light enough for Cloud not to notice, but the right color for it to appear on his skin. Cloud's squad mates were impressed, some even patting him on the back and congratulating him for 'getting some', it was only when Cloud looked in the mirror that he realized he was going to have to murder his boyfriend.

• Zack tells everyone he knows about Cloud. Angeal had heard more about him from Zack than Cloud himself, so by the time Zack introduced them, Angeal could confirm that Cloud's smile was indeed "sweeter than apple pie"

• Zack likes to spoil Cloud with gifts, something that Cloud feels infinitely self conscious about, because Zack's idea of surprising him is buying him food, videogames, plushies, and other items that make Cloud feel like he's using him — which Zack assures him that he's not.

• Cloud helps ground Zack when he's anxious, since he's both a great listener and an exceptional advice giver (in Zack's mind) (because Cloud has great ideas such as "hey maybe don't drink and entire bottle of orange soda and then do 1000 squats? you might throw up??")

• Zack is more physically affectionate in public —the boy loooves to let everyone know Cloud is his. But Cloud's touches last longer, his hugs mean Zack's safe and his arms are the only place Zack can go to feel truly at peace.

• They sleep in the same bed at the inn that night, after coming back from dinner at Claudia's house. They're giggling, talking, and wondering how the following day's mission will play out. Unfortunately that would be the last time they slept in the same bed, the last time Cloud would be conscious to hear Zack whisper and old Gongagan lullaby to him as he fell asleep.

[kayr0ss]

the dog days are over

[Dungeon Meshi / Delicious in Dungeon, Farcille, Fluff, Overwhelming amounts of love, slight angst, happy ending, Laios best brother, i guess song fic] AO3 Link

Summary: Marcille struggles with letting herself be happy, but Falin is ever so patient and loves her so, so much.

-

Happiness hit her—like a train on a track

Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back

-

It takes Marcille by surprise—the choked sob of relief that spills out of her chest, finally free from a heart that’s been aching for so long that it’s like she can breathe again. 

She’s so happy—she’s so relieved, she—

She buries the sound in the back of her hand.

Marcille doesn’t want to wake Falin—even as she keeps vigil from her bedside, afraid that Falin might slip into another heart-wrenching coma. She allows herself to grip the blankets draped lazily over Falin’s chest, to brush aside her hair—soft and freshly cleaned, no longer dampened by the feverish sweat that plagued Falin for days. 

Unfortunately, it does wake her. Marcille can’t find it in herself to feel all that bad about it—her fluttering eyelashes, the movement of her throat as she swallows weakly—it reminds her that Falin is alive.  

“Marcille?”

It reminds me that everything’s going to be okay.

“Hey,” Marcille leans on her arm, her cheek resting on her palm. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Falin is blinking, looking around for something while her hand lazily pats around the sheets and bedding and—ah, she found it—brushing her fingertips against Marcille’s free hand to coax her into intertwining their hands.

“Have you been sleeping there the whole time?”

“Mmm,” Marcille hums. “Maybe.”

Falin’s brows knit together, her lips in a small pout. “That isn’t very comfortable, your back will ache.”

“It isn’t so different from sitting on a desk,” Marcille reassures, rubbing her thumb over Falin’s. “I’m alright.”

Then Falin tugs—ever so softly—enough to pull Marcille forward, “there’s space enough.”

Marcille laughs, “you run far too warm when sleeping. We’ll get sweaty!”

“It’s never stopped you before.” Falin is still pulling, her other hand now reaching for Marcille’s sleeve. It makes her realize that Falin is now much, much stronger than she had ever been before—but not any less gentle.

“Fair point,” Marcille isn’t even fighting back anymore, barely putting in a bite when she scolds her: “but you need to recover.”

“But I’ll recover best like this,” Falin flashes her one last smile before she’s pulled under the covers, with feathered arms wrapping around her. She climbs into the warmth willingly.

It feels different—yet it feels the same as it always has. 

But it feels good —because the warmth that is pressing against her side is one of life—of the living. And Falin is back—and she couldn’t ever ask for anything more—it was more than enough, it was so much more than she could have ever wanted.

And how lucky she must be—it feels almost unfair—to be able to hold Falin again.

To have it all. 

-

She hid around corners — and she hid under beds

She killed it with kisses — and from it she fled

-

And yet, Falin still had more to give.

“We could have a garden,” she hummed, up to her elbows in the dirt while she readied the soil for planting. Marcille tried not to sigh—it’s going to take her at least an hour to help Falin clean her feathers later—but when she saw Falin wiggle her fingers at the basket of (“ little, cute, baby! ”) mandrake seedlings, the sigh had escaped in full. 

Marcille was out in the gardens because Senshi had delegated the task to her. They’re mandrakes, he said, handing her a squirming wicker basket, aren’t mandrakes yer thing? 

Falin was passing by the kitchen during that opportune moment—she stopped in her tracks, head popping backwards to look at them in unabashed excitement at the prospect of participating in the budding field of monster horticulture. 

And away went Marcille’s will to decline them both—along with her afternoon plans, replaced by the chance to sit by Falin in the dirt to grow vegetables that fought back.

“Well, we already have this garden.” Marcille replied, bunching up her dress to kneel next to Falin. She inspected the plots and, once satisfied, ran a cool cloth along Falin’s brow to wipe away the sweat and grime. 

“Yes, but we could have one for just us two. I could plant the flowers we used to gather back in school,” she looked up at Marcille with bright, amber eyes. “You could uhm—attempt to cultivate changelings?”

It was so casual—how easily she said ‘we’. It made Marcille’s heart flutter and float, closer towards a feeling so wonderful that it scared her a little.

But—”No.” She crossed her arms, feigning annoyance. “No weird plants, Falin!”

Falin laughed, bumping her on the shoulder. 

She willed her heart to still—to ease the thumping in her chest—smothering the embers of hope before they turned into a fire—before they could sting, and sizzle, and hurt.

-

With every bubble—she sank with her drink

And washed it away down the kitchen sink

-

“Found you.”

Marcille doesn’t realize how tense she is until there are deft fingers on her shoulders, rubbing circles to will the aches and pains away.

“That feels nice,” her head leaned back, into the soft padding of Falin’s stomach. It seems she was caught in the library again—much too absorbed to realize it was past lunchtime. She had strained her vision enough at this point that she could barely understand the text, and was grateful for the reminder to take a break. She felt Falin lean downwards from behind her, setting her chin over the top of Marcille’s head. 

“What are you reading?”

“Laplace transforms.”

Falin made a sound, and Marcille just knows that’s wrinkling her nose. “I thought it’d be something a bit more… magical?”

“Math is magic,” Marcille reached up to hold the arms that have wrapped around her neck and shoulders. 

Falin gasped—the sound of it so dainty that it tugged at the corner of Marcille’s lips. She unraveled herself to take the seat next to her, reaching for the leatherbound book on Izgandan Brewery. “Are you thinking of learning how to make ale?”

“No,” Marcille chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I was interested in the fermentation cycles of the yeast.”

“I’d like to try making ale,” Falin mumbled softly, happily opening the tome to a random chapter. This volume was good for visual learners—there were many fascinating illustrations: every type of still and decanter, amalgamations of glassware that almost looked identical to the alchemy stands Marcille was more familiar with. Falin looked at them in wonder. “A cellar sounds charming, I could even try my hand at wine for you.”

“I would have never predicted your fondness for liquor,” Marcille shook her head, amused. 

“I’d like to try all the different kinds,” Falin admitted, cheeks growing flushed. “My brother and I liked to lay underneath the oak tree of our yard back home.” She looked wistful. “We’d imagine all the places of the world—all the different people and food.”

Falin took her hand, playing with the rise and fall of Marcille’s knuckles. “I never imagined a world where we could finally… just do that.”

Then it hits her—a bittersweet sting of realization. 

Falin is alive—and now she gets to live. She gets to live, and dream, and see all the places she’s dreamed about, and Marcille—

Marcille will have to let her go.

-

The dog days are over; the dog days are done

-

When Falin kneels down at Marcille’s bedside, brows knit together in concern, mouth pulled tight in a grimace, Marcille realizes something important.

Falin hadn’t left her side—not since she first came down with this fever. Long, tireless days and short nights of respite had caught up to her—Marcille was in no condition to work. 

She felt parched all the time—breathless and uncomfortable while her raging fever refused to break. Falin looked like she was losing sleep over it. She would brush the hair from her forehead, cradle her cheek—Marcille would feel the soothing flow of mana and she would worry—worry—because what if Falin ran low? But that was ridiculous, she thought, she’d have much more than even I did at this point—

“Falin—”

“Hey,” Falin whispered, sweet and heavenly and so thick with affection that it made Marcille’s stomach turn. “Just rest.”

Everything hurt—but everything didn’t, not when Falin was nearby. She tried to reach out with a weak hand, but Falin was already there, meeting her halfway, taking her frail, clammy hand in hers to hold and keep warm. 

When Falin leaned forward to press her lips against Marcille’s burning forehead—before whispering against her hair that it would be okay, she’d stay right here, wouldn’t leave her side—it finally clicked.

Marcille was in love with her. 

She’d been given everything she wanted—and had the audacity to want more.

-

Leave all your love and your longing behind 

You can't carry it with you if you want to survive

-

“Why don’t you visit?”

Saying it out loud felt like a betrayal to herself. 

Falin was on the visitor’s chair of Mariclle’s office, slouched against it while she pored over a book on Eastern Continent furniture. It startled her—Marcille’s suggestion—but it seems to have been a good kind of surprise, judging from how Falin’s eyes sparkled at the suggestion.

“The Eastern Continent?”

“Yeah,” Marcille nodded. “I mean—with me being stuck here,”

Falin seemed to have frowned a little.

“—and Laios just as grounded—it’d be nice to hear about the rest of the world from you. I know you’ve always wanted to travel.”

Falin closed her eyes as if to contemplate this. Then she leaned back into the plush chair, eyes up to the ceiling. “I did… I do.” Her gaze flickers to Marcille for a moment before faltering again. “There’s a lot to see.”

“Where would you go?”

“Maybe the East?” Falin looked back towards her book.

“I’m sure Shuro–” and Marcille has to force the venom down from words because—no—she is better than that, and Shuro is a good man. “—would be happy to accommodate you.”

“It’s nice for us to be on better terms again,” Falin agrees. “Him and I, and my brother too.” 

“It is,” Marcille muttered and… and she meant it. 

“I’d love to see an Eastern Dragon,” Falin perked up in excitement. “I heard that Laios had to fight one.”

“And lived to tell the tale!” 

Falin had lit up—and to Marcille, the sun might as well have been in the light in her soft, amber eyes. Would it be like meeting family, she wondered, when Falin finally got to meet the Eastern Dragon she was looking for? Do they understand each other as beings who were so much— more . Grander, and wiser, and too big to keep in the constricting walls of rooms and castles, born with wings to fly over all the little people destined to stay rooted on the ground. 

Marcille watches Falin enumerate a concerning amount of trivia on Eastern Dragons—more still about the landscapes they lived in, how beautiful the unforgiving mountain peaks could be. Falin was enraptured—a mirror image of her brother almost—and how could she deny her this?

“I’d bring you so much stuff if I went,” Falin giggled. “Maybe I can make you a shelf?”

It hurts a little— it hurts a lot —but the world is so beautiful and big and she loves her so, so much that she couldn’t possibly keep her from seeing it. 

-

And I never wanted anything from you

Except everything you had and what was left after that too, oh

-

It takes a month before Falin picks a direction to go. 

They’re in Falin’s room, getting started on putting together her luggage, and Marcille keeps on a brave face because she sees Falin’s resolve falter whenever she looks at her. She isn’t due to leave for another week, but there is merit in being thorough—in making the effort to be prepared with time to spare.

“I’m guessing you can carry the pack even with salted meats?” Marcille fussed, checking small strips of parchment that she had made lists in. They’re seated on the floor, with different articles of wardrobe and magical items strewn about their vicinity. “It wouldn’t be too heavy?”

“I don’t think I’d need too much,” Falin looked sideways, nervously scratching at her cheek.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to hunt monsters.” Marcille pleaded.

“Okay,” Falin shifted her eyes up to the ceiling. “I won’t.”

And then there was silence—followed by Marcille’s playful whine as she pushed Falin by the shoulder, Falin all sheepish smiles. They laugh a little more—and then Marcille pulls herself closer to Falin, until their knees are pressed together as they sit. 

Marcille fishes something out of her pocket—a small pressed flower, tied with what looks to be a lock of her hair. It’s bound by a small, cloth pouch. A charm—protection.

“You’re doing so much for me.” Falin took it into her hands reverently. 

“Anything to keep you safe.”

“This is amazing.” Falin puts the thin cord of twine around her neck, tucking the charm under the collar of her shirt. She puts a hand over her chest, pressing the charm against her. “And you even helped with something as tedious as the packing.” Falin reached out for her hand again.

“Of course I’d help you.” Marcille happily takes it with a chuckle. “I love you, but I’ve seen you forget too many things too many times to let you pack for such a long trip on your own.”

Falin is… looking at her. She’s staring , with her mouth a little open and her brows slightly knit together. Her cheeks are so, so pretty when they’re flushed like that and—

“What do you mean when you say that you love me?”

Marcille can feel herself return Falin’s blush in full—maybe even several times over. The heat prickles at her skin, making her ears feel warm and skittish. But she has neither the will nor desire to lie to Falin—she never has—and she takes Falin’s hand closer to her, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, pressing another one for safe measure, before laying Falin’s palm flat on the side of her face. Marcille closes her eyes, content to just feel the warmth of Falin’s palm. 

When she opens her eyes again—Falin looks at her like she was the whole world. Every field she wanted to cross, every mountain she wanted to climb, every endless river that twisted and turned and opened out into the sea.

“It means that I love you.”

Falin makes a sound—almost a sob of relief—then she reaches forward and gently bunches the cloth of Marcille’s shirt into her hand and then—and then she pulls.

When their lips meet, Marcille has started tearing up—in joy, in love, in every emotion that she’s ever felt and will ever experience—and she realizes that she could wait. She can wait, however long it takes, as long as Falin would come back to her.

She can wait.

-

Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back

Struck from a great height by someone who should know better than that

-

It’s the second time that Marcille wakes her up by brushing her hair. 

Except this time, she gets to watch it happen much closer. Soon Falin is blinking awake, eyes half-lidded and heavy with sleep. Marcille holds her face, and Falin turns to kiss her palm while pulling her closer with the arm around her waist.

The first thing Falin says isn’t good morning, or hello, or even I love you, it’s— 

“I’ll stay.” 

It almost sounds like she’s pleading. 

It makes tears sting behind Marcille’s eyes— because she wants it so bad —but this is also exactly what she was afraid of.

She loves her too much—too much—to hold her back from the rest of her life and the rest of the world. To keep her here, selfishly, when she already got to have more than she deserves. She’s put too many other people through hell and back because she just couldn’t let Falin go —and it’s enough. 

It’s enough this time.

“I can’t do that to you,” Marcille says—loving as much as she was hurting. 

Falin is looking at her with a small frown of frustration.

Marcille plays with the hem of Falin’s shirt, pressing on it between her index finger and thumb. She reaches further, touching the tips of her feathers. She looks at her eyes—beautiful, slitted eyes. “Haven’t I imposed so much on you already?”

“I don’t really understand.” Falin admits.

And that’s okay. Falin doesn’t need to understand it, the anguish of wanting for more but knowing you couldn’t—shouldn’t—take it. Marcille doesn’t want her to ever have to understand it. So she stays quiet, hoping that the moment will pass. 

Falin sighs in resignation. She pulls Marcille a little closer. “I could wake up like this everyday,” she says in a small voice—as if the very same thought wasn’t what Marcille’s dreams were made of.

-

The grandeur of Laois’ office—for all its character and odd accentuations—feels empty without Falin. It had always been the three of them—winding down at the end of the day, lifting the weight of a kingdom off their shoulders. But today, they were down to two.

Falin had only just left.

It had only been just under an hour—and it already felt so, so empty. All she could hear was her heartbeat—a beating drum that echoed in the cavity of her chest—alone with no rhyme or melody.

Laois was leaning against the windowsill—facing west, watching the road Falin would be taking by now—and he’d been silent for the better part of their time sulking together.

“When did you get to decide what makes her happy?” 

The words, harsh as they may have sounded, weren’t laced with malice. She knew Laios better than that.

Still—it surprised her. “What do you mean?”

“You kept telling her to go.” He’s turned to face her now. He didn’t look upset—just frustrated, confused. 

“I mean—” she blinked, furrowing her eyebrows, casting her eyes down towards her hands that fidgeted anxiously on her lap. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

Laios held his silence to give her space to continue.

“Loving someone—” she waved her hands in awkward gestures, meeting his eyes again, stammering “—letting them—letting them go?”

There was a pause. Then Laios scratched at the back of his head, his shoulders slumping. “Don’t you think it’s a little presumptuous of you to assume that she doesn’t want to stay?”

Presumptuous? A flush of indignance rises in her neck, and suddenly she was on her feet. “I’ve listened to her talk about the world with such wonder, Laios—” she was stomping towards him now “—I’ve heard the excitement in her voice at the thought of seeing it all. I couldn’t—I wouldn’t keep her from that.”

“And did she say she wanted to do it alone?” He crossed his arms, pulling his height over her. “Cause I know what you mean, Marcille, I know what Falin is like when she’s excited. I see whenever I hear her talk about how she wants to try cooking you something new for breakfast—or how much happier she is every time she wakes up in the morning next to you. Yes. She tells me.”

It makes her flush when he says that—but it was no time to be flustered, and she did her best to set her jaw and show him that she wasn’t backing down. 

“Travelling was a dream we had together.” He turns away to look out the window, relenting. “But—don’t you realize there’s other things that she wanted for herself, too?” 

And Laios is staring at her again—his eyes remind her so much of Falin that her heart begins to ache. 

“I know that she tells you about them,” he continued gently.

She does, but then—

“Then why would she go?”

“Why would she stay?” Laios asked her like it was obvious. “Why stay if the whole time she was with you, you would just feel guilty about it?”

“I—”

“You’re allowed to be happy.”

Marcille doesn’t know what to say to that. 

And then she chokes back a sob, falling forward to thump her first against Laios’ chest.

Laois holds her when she begins crying—one of her best friends —the closest thing she’s ever had to a brother —and she loves him so much, this kind and precious man—who has never failed to pull her out of the depths of a prison that no else made but herself—

She thanks him. 

And then she turns on her heel and runs.

-

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father 

Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers

-

It was a spectacle, for sure, the sound of the King bellowing out for the guards to open the gates.  

Marcille had commandeered a carriage, leaning halfway out the doorway with Ambrosia in tow while the thunderous gallop of horses battered down cobblestone roads. They barreled through the gates, leaving soldiers in disarray.

She couldn’t have been that far—Falin liked to walk slowly, meandering about to take in the sights and sounds and smells. 

People parted through the thoroughfare once they reached the main road, and Marcille winced—“Please don’t hurt anyone!” she yelled at the carriage driver, but at the same she willed that he would never slow down, afraid that she would never catch her.

How self-absorbed! She wanted to yell—to scream—to apologize to Falin for curling up into a ball of despair everytime Falin asked for what she wanted. How conceited! To think that her self-imposed punishment was more important than listening to her— than giving her what she was asking for!

How—how wonderful . To finally be free to love her—and want her—and need her.

She squinted through the wind, her hair whipping about sharply as the carriage raced into the city. It’ll start getting congested soon, she realizes, and the roads won’t be wide enough to fit all the horses. 

When she finds a break in their speed—much to the driver’s horror—she jumps.

-

Can you hear the horses? 

'Cause here are they come

-

She’s running now. Her feet hurt and her thighs are burning but it doesn’t matter—she doesn’t care. She’ll deal with them later, as long as her lungs can keep up. The people, of course, are staring—because they’ve probably never seen the Royal Mage run down the streets like her life depended on it.

And it did— by the gods it did.

“Sorry!” she squeals, narrowly avoiding a man carting his groceries. She nearly trips and falls, catching herself at the edge of an outdoor table, surprising the couple that dined there. “Don’t mind me!” She laughs nervously—then sets to running once again. She heaves—and then she smiles, because it’s wonderful—there is laughter and chaos at every corner of this city—of their new home. It’s maddening—the desperation of running after the love of her life—the joy it brings to know that she loves her back—the feeling that the city is alive—cheering her on, leading her right where she needs to be—

And then—there she is. 

Marcille is panting so hard her chest is hurting.

She thought she’d be farther but—but Falin was facing back the way she came, her hand wrapped around the charm that hung around her neck. She could see Falin’s eyes widen, but Marcille made no attempt to slow down, throwing herself forward and ever closer—

Marcille reaches out, grasping at the cloth of Falin’s cloak—taking fistfuls of happiness into her hands—refusing to let go.  

“Falin—” Marcille sobs, throwing herself against Falin’s body. Falin holds her by the arms to keep them both steady before they fall over. She brings her hands to Marcille’s face—wiping away her tears—shushing her gently with a string of words so sweet they tasted like nectar. 

“—I want us to have a garden, and a cellar to make our own ale—” Marcille tells her resolutely. “—I want lazy mornings that start with your—stupidly—beautiful—eyes. Everyday." She promises. "Every morning.”

Falin is smiling through her tears. “Can we stay in on rainy days? I want to cook your favorite food—”

“Yes!” Marcille grins, her watery eyes shining with tears and—and devotion. “—and evenings where I can have you all to myself—”

Falin nods with a laugh.

“—be with me—” Marcille is pleading.

“Yes—” 

“—marry me—” she says through a sob, a laugh—

“Yes,” Falin is whispering against her lips, almost wants to pick her up. “Yes—”

“Stay?”

-

fin

-

A/N:

Hello! I listened to the song Dogs Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine (YT link to vid) and it destroyed my brain chemistry and i had to write this. If you have the time, pls do hear it! I spent a day or two thinking about Marcille and how I feel like she struggles a lot with feeling like she can be happy... what with everything that's happened with Falin & her friends - how much anguish and pain it caused them when they saw what happened to Falin after her decision to bring her back. I can envision her thinking that she got away so lucky with everything - and that taking anything more would be desiring too much. I looked into the song's lyrics and it's about this person who is confronted by a sudden happines - and they don't know what to do. They run away from it and don't realize that it's good for them, because it's scary and confusing, especially with them thinking they don't deserve it. And I wanted Marcille to be confronted with the joy that Falin gives her in that way - for her to be taken in by surprise, confused, until she realizes that it's okay - it's okay that she wants this - and for her to realize it and grab it of her own will The song goes up and down - it sounds like pockets of melancholy punctured by an urgent need to face something thats good. The last chorus rly moved me, where it feels like the person in the song has come to the realization that this joy is unavoidable and the music swells - and it makes me thinking of running through a city to chase after it - so that's what i wrote it as LOL. so self indugent, even this rambling author's note. this is for some new and old friends: icarus, lyd, toast, tato, homagetoerrata - you have let me spew dungeon meshi in your direction and allowed a space for my introspection and shit and im so grateful for that and in a different way - dedicated to veramoray, who i love and thought about constantly while i wrote what is basically 4k worded love letter to being happy ty - i well and truly hope that you enjoyed!