#chubby!caspar

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: Three drawings of the four main characters of the podcast Midnight Burger, in three different outfits. Ava is a fat woman with short brown hair and light skin. She has a sleeve of tattoos on her left arm and a smaller band of tattoos on her right. Gloria is a chubby woman with medium dark skin and dark brown curly hair. Caspar is a tall skinny man with light skin and short sandy brown hair. Leif is a sturdy man with light skin and dark brown hair. It covers one eye, and the tips are dyed purple.

The first image, Ava and Gloria are wearing day clothes; jeans and a t shirt. Caspar is wearing slacks and a button down and Leif is wearing a chef's outfit. In the second, Ava has added a lab coat, and Caspar and Gloria have added an apron and nametag. Leif is wearing casual clothes; jeans and a t shirt that says "Aliens want me fish fear me". In the third, Ava is wearing pyjamas; a nightgown with a cat on it and bunny slippers. Gloria is dressed in a homemade fur coat over her usual outfit from her time in the freezer. Caspar is wearing cargo shorts and a floral vacation shirt, and Leif is instead Old Leif, wearing spacefuture coat and pants. His hair is graying and he has a mustache, and his hair is dyed teal instead of purple. End ID.]

I've been listening to a podcast called Midnight Burger which I really like, it has big Doctor Who energy lol. I have purposely avoided any and all fan-or-canon appearances for these characters that might be out there and gosh have i missed making character designs!

[fatterfireemblem]

Imagine after chapter 3 Ashe starts stress eating to cope with Lonato's death. He becomes buddies with Caspar, who also spends a lot of time in the dining hall trying to bulk up and Linhardt who tags along and starts getting chubby because it's so convenient to eat more when he's spending all his time in the dining hall anyways. Naturally the Professor notices and starts encouraging them and taking them for extra meals for "motivation." Naturally by the end of the year all three end up huge

😏😏👍🏻

Yes!

Ashe is probably the biggest, followed by Linhardt, and then Caspar (the only one that wasn't eating mostly sweets and still worked out lol)

[boytickler35]

Fire Emblem 3 Houses: Raph and Caspar A Support

"Hey Caspar, on your way back from training?"

"Raphael! Yea still working off all the extra poundage."

"Sorry about that. It's always worked for me!"

"Eh don't worry about it, I'm not mad, I thought it would work too."

"Oh good." "How's the losing of it going?"

"Not as good as I wanted, turns out putting it on is much easier than losing it but I'm making progress."

"That's great."

"You-don't sound so convinced about that."

"Well it's just-I think it's kind of cute."

"What!"

"Well yea I mean, it's like baby fat, chubby like my little sis."

"Raphael! I don't want to look cute like your sister!"

"Why not? Nothing wrong with that is there?"

"Not for your sister, I don't want to be cute, I want to be a fearsome warrior!"

"C'mon, you wear it well." 

"RaHaph!"

"What's wrong Caspar? Ticklish?"

"No!"

"Good then you won't mind this." "Hey, what are you doing, get off me, the ground is dirty! No don't sit on me!"

"RAphGEhEHTOFFmYRibhEhehbS!"

"Why? You aren't ticklish so it doesn't matter."

"NoHAhATMyHEHIBeHehEllY!"

"But look at it? So squishy and pokeable!"

"PEhoPLEMhehIGHTSEhehEHe!"

"Good thing you aren't ticklish then!"

"RAhaHApH!"

"Hmm? It's kind of hard to understand you."

"DoHoHAonT! StHAhAHOP!"

"Don't stop?"

Well sure, but for someone who isn't ticklish you sure are laughing a lot! Just like my sis-oooh she always likes when I do this!"

"Hey, come on, if he clamp your hands down like that, I can't wiggle my fingers-oh there we go, see it's much easier to wiggle them like this."

"RAhAHAPH!"

"Oh you like it? I'm glad! Here I can step it up!"

"NoHohOHO!"

"Wow so Caspar if you aren't ticklish, why are you laughing so much?"

"I'MThehEhiCkIShHEhIShI'MTIHeHEhICKlHeHISH!"

"Wait really? Why did you say you weren't?"

"I-I don't like admitting it okay. And can you keep this between us?"

"Why don't you like admitting it? Laughing is almost as good as working out which is almost as good as eating!"

"It's just-I'm sixteen, and a boy on his way to knighthood, and the son of a super important noble I'm not supposed to be ticklish!"

"Huh, really? Do nobles really have to worry about stuff like that?"

"I don't know if they have to, Ferdinand would know but I do. Wait no-don't ask Ferdinand, forget it."

"Wait! I feel-"

"Oh no, are you sick!"

"No no not that, I feel...pretty good actually. Like I just did a ton of sit ups or something. Actually I'm kind of tired, like good tired."

"Really?"

"Yea I guess all the laughing did my muscles some good after all!"

"Hey, maybe I need to give it a try then!"

"I don't know, who would you-I mean you can't tickle yourself right?"

"Haha, I'll just get you to tickle me!"

"I dunno Raphael, I'm not sure tickling other dude is any better than-"

"Well I did it for you!"

"I didn't ask for it!"

"Well if it's a good workout that makes up for everything else right?"

"I-maybe I guess we should try more!"

"Great lets go test it out!"

"Wait Raph! I want to eat first!"

"And he's gone, he may say he isn't fast but wow can he move! "Oh no, he's going to the training grounds-Felix was there when I left."

"Hey Felix I found out this great new training! Want to hear about it?"

"Oh no- Felix whatever he tells you is lies-Don't listen to him!"

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Oh, oh, can I please have Caspar + 🐷?

Being a general in the imperial army had its ups and downs.

There was a lot of responsibility involved, of course, and Caspar found that quite a lot of it felt like red tape to slow down doing actual good. He wanted to get out there and do what was right for the people, but – apparently – there were rules about that, and him charging in recklessly to do what he thought was right wasn’t what he should be doing. Edelgard allowed him some slack with things, but many grumbled about his attitude and style of handling issues.

Caspar didn’t let it stop him much. If he saw people being wronged, he jumped to their defense. If he could protect someone in a battle, he’d do so – rank be damned! He wasn’t the sort to sit back and watch others do the work for him.

It was because of this that he had rode out to a remote village, word having reached his ears that a powerful magic user had stormed in and taken over the place. People were scared, but they couldn’t get away with this sorcerer practically holding them hostage as he did whatever he pleased in their little town. It wasn’t a big enough issue for the empire to devote its attention to, or so he’d been told when he brought it up, but Caspar wasn’t going to let that slide. It was only the one man, so he was confident in his ability to take the sorcerer down easily. He left his unit in his lieutenant’s care until he returned, sure that he would only be gone for a day at best.

As soon as he reached the village, Caspar could tell that things were off.

It was unnaturally quiet, the setting sun making the silent town feel eerie and dark as he moved through it. Ax in hand, ready for anything, the squelch of mud under his boots was the only thing Caspar could hear as he trudged further into the village.

“Show yourself!” he eventually shouted in frustration, knowing he was being watched. “I’m here to free these people, and hiding is only drawing out your punishment longer, you fiend!”

Windows were dark or shuttered in homes, no people in sight – not even any animals.

“You really are a loud thing, aren’t you?”

A shiver ran down Caspar’s spine at the voice – it felt like those words had been spoken directly into his ear – but when he whirled around, there wasn’t anyone there. Growling at how easily he’d been spooked, Caspar resolved his expression into something more fiercely determined.

“Why don’t you say that to my face!” the young man called back, eyes scanning every possible place this mage could be hiding.

“If that’s what you really prefer,” the voice returned, calmly, a face to finally go with it appearing in a flash of warping magic right in front of Caspar.

The light caused Caspar to close his eyes against the abrupt intensity of it, blinking rapidly to clear his vision and get a good look at the sorcerer who had been terrorizing this town for some time. His confidence shot up again when he looked the man over. The mage was tall and spindly; thin limbs, boney hands and a gaunt face. He was older, hair thinning and age marring him. A gnarled cane of dark wood was gripped tightly in his hands, and Caspar was sure that a stiff breeze could have knocked the old buzzard onto his ass. There was no way he could lose this.

Of course, without anyone there to rein in his recklessness, Caspar was ignoring the important fact that this old mage had completely taken over a small town without any trouble.

Charging forward, swinging his ax wide, Caspar blinked when the man disappeared like a wisp of smoke – the blade of his weapon hitting nothing but air. He skidded awkwardly in the slick mud, whipping around to try and relocate the mage. The man reappeared as silently as he teleported out of the attack, cheekily waggling his fingers at Caspar.

Taking the bait, Caspar tried again.

And again…and again.

Every single time he came close to landing a blow strong enough to cut the skinny old bastard in half, the sorcerer would simply warp out of harm’s way with a raspy chuckle. It went on like this for a while, Caspar’s energy and stamina starting to fail him after some time, tired legs slipping and sending him face first into the mud; his ax knocked out of his grasp as he fell, skidding through the mud just out of reach.

Panting and sputtering mud out of his mouth, Caspar shoves himself onto his hands and knees, sweating and limbs shaking from fatigue.

“Rolling about in the mud like a hog, are we?” the old man hummed, his foot steps hardly making a sound as he approached. “Quite fitting for a squealing piglet of the empire. Did they not have anyone else to send out here but an obnoxious, arrogant boy?”

Caspar bristled at that, scrambling to get to his feet. “I am a proud general of the empire!” Sure, he was still young and he hadn’t ever hit much of a growth spurt, but that didn’t give this old coot any right to insult him in such a way when he was clearly the evil doer here.

“A proud pig, I see.”

“You’ll regret insulting me–”

The mage waved an age-shaky hand at the younger man, a smug look on his face as he chanted something out in a language Caspar had never heard before. “And you’ll regret ever coming to this little village, Sir Pig,” the old man mused, a wave of magic blasting Caspar off his feet and back into the mud once more.

Caspar groaned, shaking his head and trying to refocus his dizzied vision. He felt so tired, and it was an alarming struggle to keep himself awake, but he managed to sit himself back up and shake off the worst of the sluggishness. Aside from the fatigue, he was fairly certain that whatever magic had been cast at him hadn’t caused him any damage outside of a bruised rear end. Grinning at his luck – for the old man must have simply messed up – he made to jump back to his feet and get right back into the fight, only to stumble in surprise when he felt like he had tried to get up with heavy weights attached to himself.

“W…What the…?” he muttered under his breath, struggling once more to get to his feet. He managed to get onto his knees, but found himself hit with another wave of exhaustion, his breathing heavy and…what in the world, was he snorting?!

Muddy fingers reached up to his nose, Caspar blurting out in shock when they met with the round, flat of his nose – or, what had been his nose. Now, it was more akin to a snout, just like a pig’s. He snuffled exaggeratedly, swallowing thickly against the panic that was threatening to overtake him.

Okay, so what? The old mage could do a few tricks, make him look like a fool, but this could always be reversed, right? It wouldn’t be so bad, especially once he beat the sorcerer and made it back home. They had plenty of skilled magic users in the empire who could probably fix his nose in a matter of seconds. This was just a tactic to get under his skin!

Grunting in anger, Caspar settled a foul look on the far too amused old man, and tried once again to push himself out of the mud.

Why did he feel so damn heavy?! His armor didn’t restrict his movement this much, and he was used to carrying the weight of it by now – not that it was really all that much armor to begin with, really. But, after another few moments of struggling, it started to dawn on Caspar why he was having so much trouble. It felt like his armor was constricting him all of a sudden, movement restricted and breathing getting more difficult. It was a risk, taking away some of his defenses, but the feeling of claustrophobia got to him quickly, and Caspar scrabbled to get the pieces of armor off.

Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice the way he was changing. The way his ears changed shape from rounded off to something more triangular, becoming wider, perky and pointed at the tips. His face started to round out, too, plump cheeks and a swell of fat beneath his chin. It was only when his fingers started to get thicker and harder to use – luckily, after undoing most of the buckles for his plate armor – that Caspar realized that this was going far further than just an embarrassing pig nose.

“H-Hey, what the hell is happening to me–?!” Caspar demanded, fear tinging his words as his statement ended on the horrifically piggish sound of an oink. With his armor now loose and mostly off, he saw the way that the rest of his body was shifting.

He was getting bigger…

The old sorcerer chuckled as he saw reality smack the young general right in the face, dark eyes twinkling as he watched the once confident fighter squirm and struggle as he grew more and more into what he’d spelled him as.

He’d called the young upstart a hog, and a hog he would be in every sense of the word.

Embarrassment and anger flushed Caspar’s features as he was helpless to do much more than watch as his body was ruined. Trim muscle was quickly overtaken by soft, supple fat. He grunted and cursed as his armor popped off and his clothes became uncomfortably tight against his frame. Stuck on all fours, it was easy to feel the way his body got heavier. His thighs grew thick and meaty, brushing up against each other as he struggled, but then forcing him to widen his stance as they pressed into one another. His ass soon followed, rounding out wider and wider, wobbling as he shifted his growing weight. His arms plumped up as well, plush and fat enough to overlap his elbows a bit; even his hands and fingers had gotten chubby.

The worst, however, was his chest and stomach.

His abs had quickly disappeared under a layer of chub, but it didn’t stop at just a pot belly. It kept growing – out and out, rounder and fatter. It was so bizarre to feel, this heavy part of himself just hanging there, getting heavier and heavier as the seconds passed. His gut bounced and jiggled as it swelled outward with fat, stretching his shirt out as far as it could go before buttons gave up and popped right off, pale flesh now exposed to the cool of the air. To Caspar’s dismay, his chest wasn’t too far behind; pecs rounding out and puffing up, drooping weightily against the continuously expanding swell of his stomach.

It was getting harder to keep holding himself up on his hands and knees, his weight just getting more and more to deal with. Desperation started to sink into Caspar’s hastily narrowing mind, a shiver running through his fattening body as his burgeoning belly grew big enough to connect with the ground beneath him, cold mud smearing across the vast expanse of his gut. He can barely even tell when a curly pig’s tail pops up above the wide spread of his ass, his rear doing its best to keep up with the rest of him.

Caspar jolts when he feels a hand on his head, thin, bony hands messing into his shock of blue hair. The old mage is smiling at him, a knowing look on his wrinkled face.

“Don’t look so frightened about all this, boy. You’ll find I’m not a cruel master, especially to dumb beasts that don’t know any better. Isn’t that right, my loud little piglet?” the old man speaks in a soft and assuring tone, another, softer glow of magic from coming from his palm as he pets the former general’s head like one would to calm down a spooked animal.

Caspar wants to protest, wants to get up and shake off the terrible dream that this has to be…but, as that last spell starts to take, thoughts of getting away or fighting back any further seem to slip through his head like water between his fingers. Eventually, the growing weight of his body is simply too much for him to keep holding up, so Caspar simply lets himself collapse onto the solid mound of fat that is his gut. It was surprisingly comfortable, and the mud was becoming less of a discomfort to him as he practically started to wallow in it like a real pig would.

“Good pig,” the sorcerer praised, ruffling Caspar’s hair before withdrawing his hand, watching with amusement as the young man oinks at him lazily, now finally content to simply do what pigs do best.

Grow fat and fatter still.

[fattlestacks]

A chubby beach Caspar gift for my friend @bellybiologist who's been having a real tough time lately! I hope you're having a great day, Verzi! We all love you! 💙

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Jaymz Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/jaymzeecat

[haikyuugetsfat]

Okay... I know this is a haikyuu blog, but I’m adding Fire Emblem and maybe some other anime’s into the mix. Anyway, I did it for Haikyuu, so here is the meme chart for Fire Emblem Three Houses.

Listen... I just really like fat Linhardt and Felix. And chubby/fat Caspar is great. The rest just kind of got thrown in a spot based on first instinct when I looked at them lol. All the lovely fat fanart of Sylvain, Bernadetta, and Marianne definitely influenced my decision though

[basickinkartist]

This one is for Gramma Verzisphere on Twitter, and a few of my followers. Really trying to get back into art again now that I am getting my life sorted out.

[bellybiologist]

chubby Caspar butt doodle i did since people flaking on me ruined my PLANS for today.

[omgkalyppso]

hilda!

Thank you for the ask, var! (:

send a character’s name to receive four different headcanons

Realistic: The White Heron Cup would have featured different styles of dance that reflected various regional specialties. Hilda, Ferdinand and Caspar would have danced with axes.

Hilarious: She went out with Sylvain several times, sometimes as a date but more often not. She doesn't drink.

Heart-Crushing: Is plagued with worry that her injuries in combat reflect ineptitude or cowardice, not meaning to disappoint her father.

Unpopular: She's chubby or fat in her youth and plump in her middle age. Strong enough to break a main in twain but rich and soft and enjoys her repose when there's time for it.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Could I please request a continuation of the Byleth and His Three Fatties story. But with a slight twist. Maybe we can get some insight as to how the three of them act when Byleth isn't around? With all the fun bedroom shenanigans!

And here we have the final request of this batch! Once again, thanks for being so patient, and especially for the kind words of encouragement in our talks! Had a lot of fun (as shown by the length anbdhbs) so I hope you enjoy!

All smut will be tagged #risque

________________

The long oak table currently seating one hungry diner, a bevvy of dishes rest in front of them. Caspar digging in, his heavy gut presses firmly against the table. Seeping onto the table itself, his sprawling gut also rests on his meaty thighs. Though his hefty lower body seems rather small with how much room his stomach commands and takes up. But his fleshy thighs twist and strain his ill-fitting boxers, the hem creating a concavity in his soft ample thighs. His ass, while dwarfed by the rest of him, still offers some extra height upon sitting down, Caspar no longer as seemingly short as before. Sporting two sizable jugs for moobs, Caspar’s tank top is more reminiscent of a sports bra. The black fabric clings and wraps around his breasts, the bottom hem of his shirt digging into the fleshy underneath of Caspar’s moobs. Food Caspar’s first order of business upon waking from his deep snore filled slumber, his hair is a tad bit more unkempt. The shaved sides of his hair are the same as always but the tuft of Caspar’s hair is a bit more grown, the surprisingly soft blue wisps splay out in all directions. His corpulent chins wobble with each heaving swipe he takes at his buffet for breakfast, Caspar cramming a mouthful with each hurried bite. Focusing on the hashbrowns, Caspar’s preference for loading up on filling carbs is no different from his workout days. The bottom flab of his stomach slowly firms up with every plate, the soft mass rounding out.

Letting out a yawn, Caspar leans back into his poor chair. The chair thankfully lacking any arms, Caspar’s stomach has enough room to rest and spread comfortably. Bringing a hand to his face, his doughy arms jiggle as he rubs the crust from his eyes. Caspar rests his free hand on his stomach. Rubbing it, he smacks his lips, the sweet sticky syrup from the pancakes still dancing on his lips. Decently loud snoring in the background, Caspar pays it no mind.

“Hey!” The second should be occupant of the table just now arriving, Ashe’s tidied appearance is in contrast to Caspar. His neatly kempt hair a new fixture from his old haircut, the medium length gray hair is still just as well maintained, Ashe’s hair still parted perfectly. Ashe’s body also contrasts Caspar, Ashe heavily pear shaped. A shelf for an ass wobbles behind him as he waddles. Bringing a corpulent thigh past the other, Ashe’s gait is slow. His sweatpants are unable to reach over his hill of an ass; instead, the upper fat of his ass sneaks out, squished by the tight waistband. His stomach jiggles to and fro with each step, the soft paunch contained by his gray tshirt, albeit snugly. His perky yet supple moobs shake as well. Huffing, Ashe carries two plates in his hands. The sleeves wrapped around his arms, they leave a notable indent. His arms quiver under the whopping food piled onto both. A large stack of pancakes topped high on each plate. A penchant for anything and all sweet, Ashe’s craving sweet tooth only intensified as more and more extra pounds piled upon his short frame.

Placing both plates on the table, Ashe takes a seat on the extra chair; Ashe’s ass covers the entire spot, both sides of his asscheecks hanging off. Clearing his throat, Ashe sits up straight. His paunch rests against the table. “Those dishes were supposed to be for all of us,” Frowning, Ashe keeps his plates of pancakes close by. Cutting into them, his arms admittedly feel tired from the taxing effort, so used to having Byleth cut them for him. Hearing the slumbering Sylvain snore away, Ashe ignores it in favor of his own food, doing the exact same as Caspar by worrying about his own hungry gullet first.

“I left you your pancakes, didn’t I?” Boh hands rubbing his massive belly now, Caspar lets out a burp before sighing. “Besides, there’s still tons more in the kitchen,”

“Well, yeah,” Ashe admits, taking a bite of his syrup soaked pancakes. “But you could’ve waited at the very least,”

“I gotta keep up my weight,” Letting out a chuckle, Caspar flexes his left arm, the flab from his arm instead sagging instead of flexing in any meaningful way. Resting his right hand on his nonexistent bicep, his right arm simply presses against his plush moobs, the overgrown melons seemingly larger. “Gotta make sure I give myself all the extra attention Byleth’s been giving me as of late,”

Mouth chock full of pancakes and syrup, Ashe takes a swig from his milk. Quickly washing down the food, a tactic Byleth taught him to eat faster, Ashe lets out a heavy breath. “Byleth has been giving me special attention too,” Ashe bristles, his tone a bit more forced than before, a frown marring his round face before he goes back to stuffing his face.

As if giving any sort of meaningful examination from his seat, Caspar rests a large hand under his chin as his eyes roam all over Ashe’s body. “Hmm,” Standing up, his bare skin wobbles, the soft billowing mass pulled down from gravity. Behind Ashe, Caspar sinks both his hands onto Ashe’s breasts. “Yeah, you are starting to fill out a lot more up here. I’ve heard how Byleth praises you while you’re underneath him and panting as-” Sporting a bit of a chubby down there, Caspar grins at Ashe’s flustered state.

Swallowing the bit of pancake in his mouth, Ashe feels his face burning. “Well, I can hear you too!” Ashe responds matter-of-factly. Caspar meekly grins. “I can hear how much you whine and beg for Byleth to keep his hands-”

A particularly loud snore rumbling through the large space, both Ashe and Caspar quiet down. The snoring still going, it dies down back to its usual level.

“But, you’re not as loud as Sylvain is,” Ashe whispers, his sweatpants as tight around his groin as Caspar’s boxers.

“Hah! He’s always complaining about how he’s still got it and whatnot,” Caspar grins, shaking his head as the thought of Sylvain’s incessant claims fill his head. “So,” Caspar grabs Ashe’s hand. “Let’s go see if it’s true,” Caspar, leading the way, the two waddling men make their way to Sylvain’s room.

“Wait, what?” Ashe bumbling behind, his paunch nearly presses up against Caspar’s portly rear. If their positions were swapped, then they’d be practically on top of one another. The scene reminiscent of the two’s semi common ‘get togethers’ Ashe rapidly blinks, Sylvain’s room closer and closer with each successive blink.

“You heard me,” Caspar lets out a triumphant hmph as they stand in front of Sylvain’s closed door. Sylvain’s snoring sounds much louder as well. “We’ve seen how we’re in bed, so let’s see how Sylvain compares,”

Caspar’s lack of tacit throws a wrench in the cogs of Ashe’s brain, words unable to leak out of his mouth as he looks on at Caspar wide-eyed. “W-well, yes we have been intimate with each other, and,” Collecting his thoughts, Ashe lets out a contemplative huff. Shifting his weight, his sweatpants struggle under the shift, sagging down some more.

“And?” Eyes purposefully not drifting to how Ashe’s ass sticks out behind him, his mind instead thinks about Sylvain’s the man’s prodigious figure more enticing. The exploration much like a brand new expedition to uncharted lands, so many unknown and new folds to touch and feel.

“And we should give him a surprise since Byleth isn’t here today,” Bringing a fist into his open palm, Ashe’s little lie to ease his conscience aids him in achieving his excited state, a cat-like grin adorning his face. Pushing forward, the unlocked door easily swings open for the two obese intruders.

Upon entering, his ass brushing against the doorway in the process, Ashe stands stupefied at the pile of blubber that is sleeping on the massively sized mattress. A big belly pushing him from behind, two hands then push Ashe out of the way.

“What’s the hold...!” Caspar whispers, before standing just as in awe as Ashe. “..up…”

“He’s huge,” Ashe whispers. He instinctively takes cautious steps towards Sylvain. Beside Sylvain, his huge stomach rises with each heavy snore he emits.

“Damn, he sure is,” Caspar on the opposite side of Sylvain, he licks his lips upon the sight,

Sylvain sleeping on his back, his titanic gut rises up into the air, the mass of fat shifting and quivering upon each inhale and exhale. The crest of his gut rising a good three feet, the rest of his stomach cascades down, blanketing his own body in a hefty dosage of fat. Rolls adorning his body, Sylvain’s meaty love handles splay out, each as thick as a pillow. Two monstrous tree trunk thighs popping out from underneath, the sheer width of them refuse to be outshone by Sylvain’s gut. Clearly demonstrating his lack of restraint, the fat from Sylvain’s cankles even overlap, the folds of his thighs folding. His titanic breasts larger than his own roly poly face, the two prodigious tits press up against Sylvain’s chins. Sylvains saucers for nipple take up a good portion of his chest. Arms pushed aside from the bundle of fat occupying his breasts, they rest useless to the side. Pressed up against the satin sheet, the bunched up fat seems much more tantalizing, Sylvain’s arms massive. A mitt for a hand attached at the end, those in turn have portly sausage fingers, the small bundles of fat close to one another.

Sylvain’s massive form puts both Caspar and Ashe to shame. Each priding on their stomach and ass respectfully, Sylvain’s figure is larger than both while being equally massive everywhere.

Snickering to himself, Caspar edges his way down the bed. Enough space, he climbs on the bed. A dangerous creaking filling the room with two large men on top, Caspar pays it no mind. His boxers tighten up further as he gets closer to his goal. In front of Sylvain’s stomach, Caspar takes great caution to not step on Sylvain’s rolls of fat with his knees.

Sylvain still snoring away, he keeps going strong even as Caspar rests his weight on Sylvain’s gut. Even still when Caspar worms an experienced hand in between his stomach and thigh folds.

Ashe aware of Caspar’s plan, he wastes no time in disrobing. T-shirt thrown to the side, he struggles removing his sweatpants before tossing those as well. Boxers the last to go, Ashe climbs the bed as well, the creaking much louder now. Sylvain’s hole hidden from lying down and his dick currently occupied by Caspar, Ashe paws at Sylvain’s fat, smushing and grabbing the abundant folds.

A wrist deep just to reach Sylvain’s dick, Caspar huffs as he hugs Sylvain’s stomach with his right hand. Giving a tentative touch to Sylvain’s flaccid dick, Sylvain pauses his snoring to huff. But only for a second before he resumes his snoring, still blissfully in dream land. Sylvain’s dick already chubbing up from the simple touch, Caspar moans. Despite Sylvain's fat pad surrounding his dick, Caspar can still feel it's girth, Sylvain well endowed.

“I’ve barely touched him and he’s already hard,”

Ashe removes his mouth from Sylvain’s saucer like nipples. “He probably can’t reach himself,” Ashe only aware of such a thing due to his and Caspar’s growing difficulty with said task, he resumes playing with Sylvain’s nipples, pinching them. An idea forming in his head, he gets off the bed and waddles out of the room, one of his hands fondling his own dick, his fat pad pushed back far from the exertion.

“Fuck…” Caspar groans from the realization. His boxers feel ready to tear apart, and not just from the pathetic size of them. His dick sinks into Sylvain’s stomach, the fat warping around it. Sylvain’s dick sufficiently hard, he gently wraps his hand around it. Easing into it slowly, Sylvain’s snores die out just as slowly.

Little moans sounding out from Sylvain, Caspar begins to pick his pace, a dribble of precum smears his hand. Using his thumb, he eases the tip of Sylvain’s dick; a particularly loud moan comes from Sylvain.

The creaking of wheels coming from behind his back, Caspar picks up his pace, mentally thanking Ashe. The cart full of nothing but pancakes, Caspar holds back his eye roll.

Reaching the shaft of Sylvain’s dick, his skin pulled back, seems to break the dam. A splooge of Sylvain’s cum splattering over Caspar’s hand, Sylvain huffs and groans as he wakes up.

“Byleth?” Sylvain yawns.

“Nope,” Ashe at the ready, he crams an entire rolled pancake inside Sylvain’s mouth before bringing his hand to Syvlain’s mouth.

Sylvain instinctively chewing, he goes to complain about the dryness of it, no syrup provided. Instead, his mouth ends up assaulted from Ashe squeezing the syrup straight from the bottle and into his mouth. The sweet sticky syrup piling up all in his mouth, his words feel slurred, so much more lethargic.

“Where’s Byleth?” Some sort of liquid smeared on his stomach, Sylvain pays it no mind, instead greedily accepting another pancake from Ashe. Feeling spent, Sylvain’s well rested brain connects the dots, his cum stained fat pad making the job easy.

“Went out, that’s all he told us,” Caspar appears beside Sylvain once more. Grabbing Sylvain’s hand, Ashe does the same. Both of them pulling with all their might, and Sylvain helping, he finally is seated on his bed, his fat now sagging forward instead of all directions.

“Thanks, and listen, I don’t mind, but if we’re gonna fuck, then I get to take charge,” Putting on his showstopping grin, Sylvain’s grin dies as Caspar laughs at him, Ashe snickering as well.

“We can hear how Byleth tops you,”

“And seen,” Ashe chimes in, remembering when Byleth took Sylvain right in front of them upon Sylvain’s insistent demands of getting to top Byleth.

“Yeah yeah. That’s ‘cause if I topped him, then he’d probably break under all of this hot bod,” Confident face losing the facade, Sylvain begins to feel rivulets of sweat form on his forehead as both Ashe and Caspar retain their grins.

"You are big as hell," Caspar grabs Sylvain's love handle, shaking the mass. A chain reaction occuring, Sylvain's body shakes like the ocean, billowing fat smacking each other. "You'd probably crush us too,"

The two grabbing Sylvain's hands once more, they use their other hand to help move Sylvain once more. Heaving him up, Sylvain's body tremors as they push him on his stomach. A good amount of adjusting to position him just right, Sylvain's hill of a dimpled ass rests high above him.

"H-hey!" Grunting, Sylvain's arms wobble as he attempts to lift himself up. Falling back down into his plush, supple moobs, he catches his breath. Ashe smacking his ass with a resounding slap, Sylvain feels his spent dick already firming up again. Taking charge was fun and nice, but to be fucked senselessly… Eyes closed, Sylvain shakes his head, forcibly yanking the thought out of his horny addled brain.

Unfortunately, an already lubed sausage finger tapping at his entrance shoves it back in, Sylvain whimpering. A fork brought to his mouth, Sylvain finds a now nude Caspar standing in front of him with a plate. Stomach grumbling, he opens wide, the still warm hash browns smoothly going down his greedy gullet. A bite turns into a couple before the entire plate of hash browns ends up devoured, Sylvain's blubbery stomach still craving more. Pancakes offered next, the heavy carbs trudge their way into their rightful spot in the pit known as Sylvain’s stomach. Crammed into his mouth whole, the vigorous chewing distracts Sylvain’s mind, his soft billowing gut ever so slightly firming up. Syrup poured down his throat, his adam apple bobs as he laps up the viscous liquid. Parched, a few mewls has Caspar at the ready, a pitcher of milk brought to his lips.

A heavy weight resting on him, Sylvain's hands cling and curl around the bedsheets, Ashe's dick at his hungry entrance.

"Still think you're a top?" Unwilling to hold off any longer," Ashe immediately goes to town on Sylvain's ass. His own fat body shaking, the quivering mass that is Sylvain's quakes. The bed reminds them all of its precarious situation, the frame not equipped to handle such a dangerously high weight. Fat slapping against fat, Ashe's engorged dick easily slides in-between the soft rolls of fat making up Sylvain's ass.

"Y-eah, of course…" Sylvain's back arches as high as he can, his stomach pressing deep into the mattress. "Yeah, I'm a-" Another forkful ready, Caspar has scrambled eggs now. His body shaking back and forth with each hump, Sylvain's body becomes increasingly hotter. Gut chock full of food, the stuffed sensation is no stranger to Sylvain. Despite doing none of the actual work, two large warm bodies pressed up against him as they have their way with him has him breathing heavily.

His dick left painfully unattended, the friction from his fat pad is sufficient enough. Balls churning, a shove forward from an eager Ashe has Sylvain ejaculating all over; the dried sticky fat pad adds some more fresh cum. A pair of brusque forceful lips on his own, Sylvain finds himself pulling himself forward to the gesture.

Caspar pressing his lips against Sylvain’s, his tongue darts inside Sylvain’s readily open maw. Stubby hand reaching under Sylvain’s chins, Caspar helps raise up his face, gazing at him with half lidded eyes. Breath required for both of them, Caspar pulls back, his moobs rising and falling with every labored breath. Bringing his hands to Sylvain’s cheeks, he pulls and squishes them. “You really are damn adorable,”

Sylvain mutters in response, his face just as flushed as before. A whine escapes him as Caspar stands up. Ashe pulling out only has Sylvain a bigger mess, the lack of warmth sending a chill up his spine.

Ashe still raring to go, he shifts on his knees. Hands slowly pumping his dick, his legs twitch as he almost cums. Slowly inching his way, Ashe finds his perfect spot. Touching himself, his legs slowly spread as he tilts his head back, Ashe growing louder. So painfully close, he unabashedly moans as he cums, his seed ending up all over Sylvain's side.

Taking his time, Ashe slowly eases himself off of the bed.

"W-wait!" Grunting, Sylvain's huffing and puffing face betrays him.

"We're not done yet," Casper gleefully announces. Making his way to Sylvain’s ass, Caspar traces his girthy fingers across Sylvain’s body before parking himself right in front of Sylvain’s entrance. Wasting no time like Ashe, Caspar girthy dick penetrates Sylvain's gaping chasm.

Sylvain's dick woefully spent, it still has blood flowing to it, his dick painfully hard. Reaching down, his hand barely makes it to the edge of his stomach. Too much fat barricading his dick, Sylvain grunts as he futilely tries to reach.

Ashe taking Caspar’s old residence in front of Sylvain’s face, the plump overfed face makes his heart swell, beads of sweat trickling down Sylvain’s  half lidded face as he attempts to catch his breath. Leaning down, his prodigious ass sticks in the air as he gently brings his lips to Sylvain’s. Squirrel cheeks pressing up against his own, Ashe holds his spot, Sylvain putty in his hands. Pulling back, Ashe huffs, his dick hard once more. “We should - we need to spend more time together,”

Sylvain finds himself humming in agreement, words unable to be uttered as Caspar continues to pound his ass.

Ashe finding it unfair how Caspar got to give Sylvain a hand job, he decides to do one better. Climbing on to the bed, he rests his belly on Sylvain's head. Positioning himself, the need is unnecessary, Sylvain happily accepting Ashe's dick.

Caspar still pounding away at Sylvain's ass, his sprawling gut makes it difficult, the blanket of fat sprawled over on the rolling plains of Sylvain's back. Balls smacking, Caspar grips into Sylvain's ass for dear life. "No fair," Caspar grunts, his breath shallow. Caspar picks up the pace, hands leaving imprints on Sylvain's ass now.

"Don't care," Sylvain expertly slurps away. His skillful tongue works wonders on Ashe as it happily licks at the tip of Ashe’s dick.

Unwilling to be left behind, Ashe takes charge, face fucking Sylvain. Hands gripping Sylvain’s fiery red locks, Ashe huffs. His knees shaking under him, the wide legs shake from their overuse, Ashe nearly ready to fall over and lie down.

Pounded away from both ends, Sylvain can only offer muffles mixed in with his small breathy groans, his brain unable to think of anything meaningful. His entire body jiggles, two fat men fucking the obese man. The quick yet heavy breakfast from Caspar resting heavy in his stomach, his wobbling from being pounded on both sides causes it to churn and gurgle.

All three ignore the treacherous creaks and splinters of the frame underneath them, their own libido of much higher importance. Now a race to see who finishes first, Caspar ends up the winner. Falling against Sylvain's ass, his dick slowly softens. His semen filling up Sylvain's ass, dribbles of it trickle out. Ashe not far behind, he once again makes sure to pull out seconds before. A bit ending up in Sylvain's mouth, he happily swallows the sweet semen. Yet most of his ends up splattered on his face, Ashe painting Sylvain in his cum. All three resting, the painful splintering of the bed rings in their ears, even their tired pants drowned out by it. A few seconds passing, time seems to move at a standstill.

Until a deafening splinter sounds out. The frame finally gives out from underneath the incredulous weight stacked on top of it.

Plummeting much closer to the ground, all three of their corpulent bodies wobble, all their flab smacking against each other. The room quakes from the crash, furniture shaking as a result.

"Fuck…" Sylvain breathily moans as he attempts to catch his breath.

Legs worse than jello, the effort of standing up feels like the hardest task in the world for Caspar and Ashe. Moving Sylvain proceso even more challenging, all three read to sleep without a care. Getting Sylvain back up, they bring him back down on his back.

Caspar too tired to give a damn, he goes to nuzzle against Sylvain's stomach, pressing up against him as much as he can.

Ashe much the same, he pats Sylvain's stomach. "We'll clean up," Yawning, his jaw feels painfully sore from how wide he opens. "after a nap,"

Sylvain already asleep, his loud snores fill the calm and quiet air, Caspar's and Ashe's little snores sounding out as well.

Ashe and Caspar having some splooges of cum on them, neither of them compare to Sylvain's cum riddled body, their semen marked all over him. Cleaning up the least of their worries, they save it for later in the day. A couple hours passing by, noon soon hits the day. All three still asleep, none of them notice the door opening. Byleth returning from his long retreat, he brings a new addition in tow. Ferdinand behind Byleth, the extra couple of pounds on his frame are given away by his tight outfit. Spotting the debaucherous sight, their acts present on their bodies and by the musty smell, Ferdinand blushes.

"Soon, you'll be in that huge pile," Byleth whispers in Ferdinand's ear, laughing as he blushes yet nods, eager for said day to come.

[thepandapopo]

Absolute Truths

This idea wormed its way into my head and for the life of me I couldn’t get it out.

This oneshot is a little longer than the stuff I usually write (a whopping 8539 words), but I loved every minute of it. I tried editing it to the best of my ability, but honestly I suck at that. No beta, we die like Glenn. #SorryNotSorry #TooSoon ?

Please note this is non canon. The time frame for this is sometime after the Battle of Gronder post time skip and it is a mash up of the GD and BL routes (ie. Dimitri joins Claude and is no longer crazy; Rodrigue still dies. RIP).

Cross posted to ao3.

Pairing: Sylvain x Felix

Warnings: mentions of child abuse and PTSD

Synopsis:

When Felix and Sylvain get hit with a dark magic spell that reverts them back to children, the Resistance Army gets a deeper look into their bond and learn 5 absolute truths that form the foundation of their relationship.

OR

5 undeniable facts of Sylvain and Felix’s relationship.

Word Count: 8539

“Felix!”

Fuck. Sylvain loses sight of him for only a minute but that is all the enemy needs to overwhelm the already bombarded swordmaster.

Pulling the reigns sharply to the left, the Paladin charges across the battlefield, skewering any unfortunate enemies that dare block his way, the lance of ruin glowing like a beacon of fury despite the thick coating of blood on it. The air is heavy with the smell of smoke and dark magic, making it hard to breathe and blurring the red head’s vision. Regardless, Sylvain presses on; determined to get to his best friend in time before the group of mages over the hill finish casting… whatever ominous looking spell they are aiming at Felix.

“Sylvain, get out of here!” Felix shouts angrily, not even pausing his fighting to face the sight of Bella charging her way through the throng with her master astride her.

Shit. Felix cuts down another enemy.

It is never ending. No matter how many falls to his blade, another two enemies take their place. Felix isn’t stupid – he can see the group of mages prepping a dark magic spell in the distance, which makes him even angrier when he spots Sylvain riding to his aid.

Like hell he’ll give his childhood friend another reason to toss himself into harms way. Felix isn’t weak. He doesn’t need protection. And he sure as hell doesn’t want Sylvain to be the one who gets hurt trying to fix his mistakes just because he got a little too cocky and split from the rest of his battalion.

“Fuck.” Felix grunts and pushes his sword hard to disengage the thief that has him in a sword lock. He doesn’t bother to see if he is being pursued and dashes towards Sylvain who is now dismounting a short distance away, Lance of Ruin making quick work of anyone who strays too close for comfort.

Sylvain was undoubtedly within hit range of the spell now. If that idiot insists on being his usual self-sacrificing self, then the least Felix can do is use his own body to shield the older man and take the brunt of the damage.

The tell-tale crackle of magic behind him sets the hair on his nape standing.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

He isn’t going to make it. Damn Sylvain for being so slow – this is exactly why he keeps telling him to take his training more seriously-!

“Fe!”

The last thing he knows before succumbing to the darkness is a hard chest plate knocking the wind out of him and warm, strong arms that remind him of summers spent with a heart lighter than air.

----

1.       Sylvain always has, and always will protect Felix until the day he dies.

Leonie is one of two on the first shift of babysitting duty.

Undeniably, the orange haired paladin would be the first to admit that she wasn’t the greatest with kids, however there is only so much the tiny, and thankfully unconscious, Fraldarius boy can do given his current predicament.

No one really knows what happened after the enemy spell envelops Felix and Sylvain, the larger of the two curled protectively around his companion as they fall. No one even knows what the spell is.

But what they do know is that now, instead of a regular sized Felix Hugo Fraldarius and Sylvain Jose Gautier, they have a chubby cheeked blue haired cherub and an unfairly-cute-even-as-a-child ginger.

It is in the middle of bemoaning her poor luck at drawing straws when the mini-Felix begins to stir and she feels panic clawing its way up her throat.

“Ngghh…” small, unscarred hands balled into fist come up to rub at bleary amber eyes before they widen almost comically as they take in his surroundings.

“Uhh… hey.” His gaze snaps towards Leonie and she can feel her terror rising with mini Felix’s hysteria, clearly evident by the shiny glaze beginning to cloud his eyes and the fat crocodile tears gathering at the edges of his almond eyes.

“It’s okay, Felix. It’s just me.” She reaches out a hand tentatively in a placating gesture, but quickly withdraws back as young Felix lets out a squeak and scurries as far back into the corner of the bed as he can get, taking his older self’s wool Fraldarius crest blanket with him, as if it could shield him.

“Wh-wh-who are you?” The poor thing is absolutely terrified and damn it, Leonie wants to comfort him, but she is equally as distressed here and this is exactly why she didn’t want to babysit.

“It’s me, Leonie. You don’t… you don’t recognize me?”

It comes out sounding more like a statement than a question.

It’s so painfully obvious that little Felix has no idea who she is.

Which means he doesn’t have his memories.

Which means they are down two of their best generals.

Which means they are well and truly fucked.

So, Leonie does the only thing she can logically think to do.

“Come on,” She says, rising from her bedside chair and reaching for his arm. “We need to go tell Linheartd that the situation is much worse than we had originally thought.” But as soon as her hand wraps around his forearm, Felix screams.

“Oh shi-! Felix! Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you!”

If anything, this just seems to have the opposite effect and the wails increase to near piercing.

Leonie thinks it may be a trick of her mind, and probably her ears because holy crap does little Felix have a set of lungs on him, but she is pretty sure that Felix is screaming out a name.

Specifically, a name belonging to a certain red head that is, the last time she checked anyways, unconscious two doors down from his room and currently being watched over by Caspar.

“Fe!” The door bursts open and suddenly there is chaos.

Was being watched over by Caspar, Leonie amends in her mind.

“Get back here!” The blue haired warrior lunges and swipes his arm out trying to catch mini Sylvain who is slipperier than a fish in water, using his short height to duck between legs and launch himself onto the bed.

“Leave Fe alone!” Honey brown eyes that are so very familiar yet also so different, are glaring holes into Leonie and Caspar, proudly defiant and blazing with determination. Short arms stuffed into the smallest adult shirt they could find on short notice stretch out protectively, completely shielding Felix from sight.

“S-Sylvain,” comes the little sob from behind him and the older boy spares a second to throw a comforting smile behind him. “Don’t worry, Fe. I’ll protect you.” And Goddess, he sounds so genuine and earnest that it makes Leonie wonder what happened to cause their Sylvain to hide behind fake laughs and charming lilts of the tongue.

“Sorry, Leonie.” Caspar is gasping for air like he has just run a marathon. “I tried to keep him in his room but as soon as he heard Felix screaming, he was out faster than I could blink.”

“Ugh. Just go get Ingrid and the Professor.”

----

2.       Sylvain hates himself and his crest, but Felix likes him in spite of it.

A day later finds Ingrid watching over the five year old Felix (“What?! He’s five? But he’s so tiny.” “Don’t let him hear you say that or he’ll cry again.”) and seven year old Sylvain.

“Just stay in this area, okay?” She calls out over the din of raucous laughter echoing throughout the courtyard. “I don’t want you two wandering off and getting into trouble.”

The play wrestling pauses for a brief moment and little Sylvain sticks out a tongue at her.

“We don’t get into trouble! You’re just a party pooper!”

“Yeah! Party pooper!”

Shoving down the urge to smack her childhood friends into the next moon, Ingrid settles for watching with pursed lips as Felix dissolves into giggles, Sylvain’s grabby hands finding purchase in his sides and tickling him relentlessly. The look of such carefree happiness on their faces makes her heart clench and eyes sting.

If Ingrid is being completely honest… she misses this.

She remembers what it was like not carrying around a broken heart for a man buried six feet under, his remains not even whole enough to bring home. Back when she could play wrestle with Fe, Sylvie, and Dima in the dirt and then go to Glenn to kiss her knee better when one of them inevitably accidentally activated their crest and used too much strength, resulting in tears and scrapes and bruises.

It doesn’t do her any good to dwell on the past.

The dead should be left to rest, and the living should move on.

For an emotionally constipated guy, Felix is dead on with his philosophy.

Though she has long come to terms with her betrothed’s death, the small sliver of envy she has for her two oldest friends still lingers in the deepest, darkest recesses of her heart.

They’re lucky that they still have each other, even though they spend half the time bickering and denying their feelings.

“Is that the Gautier boy?”

Two monastery staff members stop beneath the path archway and look with undisguised admiration.

“So handsome at such a young age!”

“And I hear he’s incredibly charming too.”

Ingrid knows that Sylvain and hear them. He has always been keen of hearing, especially when it involves others gossiping about himself, for better or for worse.

Felix takes advantage of Sylvain’s distraction to get the upper hand and rolls on top, completely oblivious to the onlookers.

“If I were his mother, I would have secured him a betrothed as soon as he was tested for a crest.”

A hum of agreement. “Yes. His family is blessed with good looks so it would not be hard to secure an advantageous match. The Gautier line will likely continue on stronger than ever with such a prized heir.”

“Sylvain? Why did you stop?”

Felix is all wide eyes and adorable pouty cheeks, staring confusedly down at his best friend underneath him who has gone strangely silent with a strangled expression.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

The two gossipmongers snap to attention at Ingrid’s sharp tone, her expression clearly telling them to get the hell out of here or risk facing her wrath.

With rushed replies of “yes, sorry miss!” and “our apologies”, they scurry off down the pathway and disappear around the corner.

But unfortunately, the damage is already done.

“Sylvain? What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”

Gently, the older boy extricates himself from Felix’s death grip of a grapple and stands up with his eyes cast downwards. “Sorry, Fe. I… I don’t want to play anymore.”

“What? What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“I’m tired. I want to go back to our room.”

It only takes one look at Sylvain’s expression before Felix is latching his fists into the fabric of Sylvain’s pants with a scowl on his face.

“You’re lying to me. Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying, Fe! I don’t want to play anymore.”

“We’re best friends aren’t we?”

“Well, yeah, of course we are.”

“Best friends don’t lie to each other.”

Ingrid has patiently watched the exchange between Felix and Sylvain to this very moment, hoping that they can sort out this argument without her intervening like she always did as a child, but through years of experience, she can sense that one of them is about to snap and she would very much like to avoid that.

“You know the only reason we’re best friends is because our parents are friends and we both have crests.”

There it is.

It’s absolutely heart breaking how Sylvain has already learned to self destruct at the tender age of seven. If Miklan were still alive, Ingrid would skewer him a thousand times over for instilling the mantra of ‘you’re not worthy of love’ into Sylvain’s head.

“Hey guys, do you wanna go-“

“You’re a stupid head if that’s what you think.” Felix’s interruption shocks her. His usually bright amber eyes are fixed in a watery glare leveled at the boy opposite him. Right now, Ingrid may as well be invisible for all Felix cares.

“What?”

“You’re a stupid head!”

Sylvain looks absolutely affronted.

“No, I’m not!”

“Yeah, you are!” a few tears have managed to slip beyond the barrier and trail down Felix’s cheeks. “I don’t care that our parents know each other. And I don’t care about any stupid crests.”

Felix marches up to Sylvain with all the anger he can muster in his five year old glory and reaches up to smoosh his cheeks together. “I’d still pick you to be my best friend in the whole wide world because you’re funny and nice and I’m always happier with you than Ingrid or Dima.”

Sylvain can only stand there with his lips parted in round ‘o’ from his cheeks being pushed together and a dazed look in his eye. Felix takes this as a sign to continue his little tirade.

“And I know you’re smart so you should stop being such a stupid head because I don’t care what you think. You’re my best friend and I’ll always pick you over any stupid crest.”

“Fe…”

She recognizes that tone. Ingrid looks away then because she fears that if she doesn’t, the part of her heart that belongs to Glenn might just twist its way into her throat and choke her with envy.

Sylvain is giving Felix that look that she has seen many times throughout their lives whenever she watches her two friends from afar. It’s one that everyone, except for Felix, has seen a million times and knows that to Sylvain, the world around him has fallen away except for one person.

“You’re my best friend, Sylvain. So, don’t lie to me.”

For the first time since the gossipers appeared, Sylvain lets a smile slip through.

“Okay. I promise.”

Felix eyes him warily and searches for any hint of a lie in Sylvain’s expression. Once satisfied, he loops his own pinky around the one outstretched to him.

“Good. Now let’s go play Knights and Bandits!”

Perhaps it is because Felix is always looking ahead that he never sees how Sylvain looks at him like he was the one who hung the stars and moon in his dark sky, illuminating his life with happiness and love.

----

3.       Felix feels so much and Sylvain is the only one who understands him even without words.

A collective sigh echoes throughout the monastery when they find out that mini Felix and mini Sylvain aren’t too picky with their food.

Granted, even as a child, Felix shows a proclivity towards eating meat; but with a little friendly jostling from his best friend, even the youngest Fraldarius son can be convinced to eat his brussel sprouts.

Which is exactly why Claude is so baffled when Felix starts to protest eating during mealtimes.

“What do you mean he won’t eat?”

He’s well aware that he probably sounds like an idiot, if the exasperated look Lorenz is giving him is anything to go by; but they haven’t had any trouble before so it makes absolutely no sense that Felix would start being picky now.

“It’s exactly as I said,” Lorenz frowns. “We were all simply sitting together enjoying a meal, when Felix stopped eating and refused to finish his dinner. I’ve been told this is now the third occurrence in a row that his has happened.”

“Was he full?” Byleth pauses from looking through some supply requests to chime into their conversation. Although she has not outright said anything, Claude knows his love well enough to tell that she is stressed about their current predicament. Felix throwing a silent protest against food is just one more thing to add to her pile of worries that she doesn’t need.

“Don’t worry, Teach,” Claude winks and flashes his signature grin. “I’ll get to the bottom of this. You just worry about securing our supplies for the next moon, yeah?” His chair lets out a deafening screech as it drags across the floor, drowning out any protests their former professor may have and providing Claude the distraction he needs to usher Lorenz out of the room with him.

“Claude, are you sure you know what you are doing?” The doubt rolling off Lorenz would have offended a lesser man, but Claude has spent his life being the underdog and he lets the words bounce harmlessly off him. “Felix is not an enemy to be outsmarted. He is simply a child who only adheres to emotion.”

“I am aware of that, yes.”

“Then why do you look as though you are about to hatch a scheme?”

Because he is.

And although Felix is not an ‘enemy’, per say, doesn’t mean that Claude can’t use his usual tactics of watching and observing his opponent until he has hatched a plot to take them down. Hence, leading to Claude’s current position tucked away in the far corner of the mess hall during the following breakfast.

Even on his off days, Claude is always watching and learning. He knows the favourite foods of all his fellow comrades in arms and he also knows whom everyone’s preferred companion is.

There is very little that escapes his notice, and the Resistance Army leader is confident that he will have a plan by sundown at the very least.

It is a little past 8am when the two children sleepily trudge their way into the dining hall with Bernadetta, their ward for the day, close behind them.

Nothing seems particularly strange or odd when they join the line to retrieve their meal; and nothing remarkable happens either when Bernie leads them to the only empty table left in the middle of the hall.

“Good morning, Bernadetta!” Raphael greets cheerily and shuffles his mountain of food over to join the trio at their table. “Good morning, Felix, Sylvain!”

The little ones mumble back a greeting, but their voices are lost in the din of the morning meal chatter.

So far, so good. Felix is still eating his porridge (albeit with an adorable frown on his face) and talking animatedly about goddess knows what with Sylvain, who occasionally turns to answer a question from the adults.

“Oh, good morning, Bernadetta, Felix, Sylvain!”

Slowly but surely, the table begins to fill as their friends meander into the building in search of food to start their day. Greetings are exchanged and unsurprisingly, Felix and Sylvain garner a lot of attention due to their current forms. Sylvain, ever the chatterbox that he is, fields most of the questions; Whether it is because he is being considerate of his quieter friend or if he simply relishes in the attention is debatable, but Claude cannot help but notice how his eyes constantly dart back towards Felix who grows increasingly frustrated.

“Oh, you’re just too adorable!” Annette’s squeal of delight reaches even Claude’s remote corner and he assumes that the wince he sees from Felix is due to the sheer volume of the orange haired mage. Sylvain, the current object of attention, just flashes her his prize winning smile; his dimples making him look even more endearing than he already is.

The adults gathered around the children don’t even notice that Felix has stopped eating. Nor do they see Sylvain quietly reach below the table to grab Felix’s smaller hand in what looks to be a gesture of comfort.

In fact, it takes another five minutes of cooing and fawning before Raphael, of all people, notices that Felix is now glaring with teary eyes at his bowl of half eaten porridge.

“What’s wrong, little buddy? Not feeling well?”

Immediately the attention shifts to him and the effects are just as disastrous as Claude predicts.

“I’m not hungry.” Some of the porridge finds its way onto the table as Felix pushes his bowl away with such ferocity, Claude is half surprised it doesn’t completely tip over.

“What do you mean you’re not hungry?” Annette frowns. “This is the fourth time you’ve left a meal unfinished. Are you not feeling well? Do you need to go see Mercedes?”

“No. I don’t wanna eat anymore.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Felix? We just want to make sure you’re not getting sick.”

“I’m fine.”

It’s a big fat lie and anyone with half a brain can hear the distress and frustration in the blue haired boy’s voice. One lone tear manages to squeeze its way out of Felix’s water logged eyes and that’s all it takes for the table to burst into a flurry.

Claude almost feels bad for Felix as the adults descend on him like a pack of vultures, all of them crowding him and trying to coax the reason for his distress out of him. The Almyran prince has half a mind to go over and rescue his friend in arms from a situation that is probably in his top ten worst fears, but before he can even get out of his seat, Sylvain is already bounding out of his chair with a teary Felix in tow.

Sylvain shouts something about ‘Knights and Bandits’ and they’re out the southern doors before Bernadetta can even process what has happened.

Felix’s half eaten bowl of porridge sits on the table completely forgotten.

----

At lunch, Claude decides to test a hypothesis.

He asks Mercedes and Hilda to sit with the kids at lunch and pay special attention to Felix.

To everyone else, he gives them strict orders to leave their table alone.

Satisfied with how his experiment is set up, Claude finally seats himself back in his observatory spot with his own lunch sitting in front of him.

He’s not expecting amazing results. In fact, he’s not expecting his first hypothesis to be a success at all, but he wants to try it none the less because there is always the possibility that mini Felix fundamentally operates much differently than the Felix that he is used to.

What he doesn’t expect is for Felix to immediately shut down the minute Hilda tries to engage him in some conversation about the games him and Sylvain play in the courtyard.

Today’s lunch special is Daphnel Stew and Claude has it on good authority that it is a favourite of Felix’s (technically Dimitri is a reliable source, right? They were childhood friends after all).

Sylvain tries his best to jump into the conversation and pull some of the attention to himself, but Hilda is every bit as smooth of a talker as Claude is; deftly maneuvering the conversation back to Felix no matter what Sylvain does.

This time, it is Felix that reaches for Sylvain’s hand under the table.

Except instead of just holding Sylvain’s hand, Felix starts to pull at it every time Mercedes or Hilda asks him a question, as if pleading for his friend to save him.

At least Claude could now say for sure that Felix is not, and never was, a fan of being the center of attention.

When the first afternoon bell tolls signaling the end of lunch, Felix’s stew remains uneaten and untouched. On the way out of the hall, Claude looks the other way and pretends not to notice when Sylvain steals an apple from the pantry.

His experiment doesn’t exactly succeed, but he cannot write it off as a failure either. The information gathered from his two observation sessions is plentiful and a solution is forming within his mind even as he makes his way up to the war room to meet Byleth for their afternoon strategy session.

By the time he pushes open the door to his usual haunt, Claude is absolutely certain of two truths.

One, that Sylvain knows Felix better than anyone could ever hope to compare, and two, Felix Fraldarius is incredibly lucky to have an attentive best friend like Sylvain because stars above, does he suck with using his words.

----

When the hour before dinner time rolls around, Claude makes sure to talk to everyone he passes by and give them the order that no one is to approach Felix and Sylvain’s tables at mealtimes anymore. He tells them to pass the word around and it doesn’t take long before the entire monastery is in the know of their Leader’s command.

“Care for company?” Byleth smiles and sets her tray down beside his own without waiting for a reply.

Claude does a quick survey of the area to make sure no one is looking before leaning in to land a quick peck on Byleth’s cheek. Joy flutters in his stomach at her rising blush and he merely laughs and winks at her stuttered protests.

“Check it out,” Claude quickly changes the subject and nods his head over to where Bernadetta sits exhausted with a now cheerful Felix and Sylvain. The latter nodding enthusiastically to their conversation with the occasional laugh and both of their plates near devoid of food.

A tiny rush of pride swells when he sees the relived expression on Byleth’s face.

“Told ya I’d take care of it.”

Underneath the table, he flips his palm facing upward so that he can intertwine his fingers with her searching ones.

“Yes, you did.” The unspoken thanks lingers in the air between them, louder than the constant buzz of activity in the room.

For the first time in a while, the former professor looks more at ease. And Claude, being the shit stirrer that he is, cannot help but toss a little fuel into the fire.

“So… who do you think will wear white at the wedding? Between the two of them, I think Felix is the better choice.”

“What?!”

----

4.       Felix has an unwavering faith and belief in Sylvain that he’s not afraid to stubbornly stand by to the bitter end.

“Annie, are you sure this is a good idea?”

If Mercedes is concerned, then Lysithea is absolutely certain that no, this is most definitely not a good idea.

They are at the part of the training grounds where the various magic users can come to practice and hone their spells. The ground is singed with charred marks from stray thunder and fire spells, the black streaks contrasting starkly with the pale stone underneath. To the side, there is also a sand pit where mages can practice some more destructive flame based spells.

“I’m just a little curious, is all!” Annette whispers back. “I know Sylvain is really good with magic even though he never uses it. He was the one who helped me understand that magic formula that I was stuck on for a week, after all. I was thinking maybe he might show an aptitude for Reason as a child.”

“That’s fine and all; but I’m not really sure how safe it is to teach a child how to conjure a fire spell. That just seems like a recipe for disaster.”

The orange hair mage cannot help but look slightly put out by Lysithea’s comment.

Yes, maybe it wasn’t the safest idea ever… but Annette just really wants to find out the extent of Sylvain’s inherent abilities. Even after she makes him promise to take his training more seriously, she still feels like he is holding back on her when they are paired together.

“What kinda magic are you gonna show us?” Felix is eager and bouncing on his toes. The House Fraldarius specializes in swordplay, not magic, so this is a treat for him and he can barely contain his excitement.

“Oh well, I was thinking we could start off with a basic fire spell!”

“Oooh, fire!”

Annette really hopes that Felix doesn’t have a penchant for pyrotechnics.

As much of a bad idea as this is, Lysithea can’t exactly bring herself to leave them in case something goes terribly wrong. She is the strongest, most advanced Gremory the Resistance Army has; with her around, she’s confident that the worst that could happen would be some singed eyebrows and possibly an impromptu need for a haircut. But even that is an outcome that she is hoping to avoid.

Once the target is set up, Sylvain and Felix eagerly make their way over to the sidelines to watch Annette demonstrate a basic fire spell.

It’s nothing special really. Even the older Felix and Sylvain could probably cast it without much problem, but to their younger versions, the small ball of fire is so grand and spectacular that it warrants oo’s and ah’s and enthusiastic applause.

“Wow! That is so cool! Isn’t that so cool, Sylvain?”

Felix is pulling on Sylvain’s sleeve and the older boy nods emphatically with admiration shining in his eyes.

“Do you think you could do it too?”

Lysithea is startled to hear the question Felix asks Sylvain. Of course, Annette was already planning to ask the Gautier boy to attempt the spell, but that was out of curiosity.

From the shining look on Felix’s face, Lysithea knows that he is asking because in his mind, there is nothing that his smart, talented best friend in the whole wide world cannot do.

“Magic is difficult to learn and takes time. It can take years for some to learn just the basics.” She cuts in before Sylvain can answer.

She doesn’t want Felix to unwittingly trap him with an unrealistic expectation that he cannot meet and she figures it is better to disappoint him now rather than allow the red head to try and then feel guilty when he disappoints his friend.

“Sylvain is smart. I bet Sylvain could do it!”

Felix is pouting in that way that they are all quickly learning means ‘I’m right and you can’t convince me otherwise’.

“I’m sure Sylvain is very smart!” Mercedes agrees and gives the boys her best placating smile. “But I’m not so sure that a person could learn how to cast a Fire spell in one day! Why, it took Annie and I at least a week of practicing before we could do it!”

“Yep, I remember I almost burned my eyebrows off the first time I tried! But I can teach you the basics maybe and then we can bring you here again next time to practice?”

The urge to verbally reprimand the warlock for her relentless pursuit to satisfy her own curiosity rises and Lysithea has to physically clutch her biceps to stop herself from bursting.

Fine. If they were so eager to set themselves down this path, then so be it.

“Yeah!” Felix is literally vibrating with excitement and Sylvain looks nervous but determined to not let his admirer down.

Heaving a sigh, Lysithea moves to settle next to Mercedes who sends her an apologetic smile.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

----

Unsurprisingly, Felix does not do so well with learning the basics.

The diagrams and symbols are a little too much on the side of complex and it becomes apparent rather quickly that there is a reason the Fraldarius men carve through the battlefield with swords instead of magic.

“Aw, it’s okay Fe! You’re still the best with a sword anyways. You don’t need magic!” Sylvain ruffles his hair and smiles. “You’ll always beat me at swordplay.”

The small admission is enough to cheer Felix up and after a bit more nudging from the older boy, he runs off to play around with the wooden practice swords they have on the other side of the training room while Annette and Sylvain continue to work on creating basic magic circles.

It’s only after the third hour and Mercedes has long left to attend to various chores that Lysithea turns to watch Felix go through rather crude sword forms instead.

“You need to spread your feet farther apart.” Using her own foot, she nudges Felix’s left heel to the side to widen his stance. “Try striking again now.”

The wooden sword wobbles a bit in its trajectory, but the swing is undoubtedly much better than before. The sheer delight that lights up in Felix’s eyes almost makes Lysithea laugh out loud because she recognizes it as the same gleam she sees in the older Felix’s eyes when he executes a particularly hard maneuver.

“Why aren’t you watching Sylvain and Annie?”

For a five year old, Felix is incredibly perceptive.

Rather than lie to him, Lysithea opts for honesty because she is sure that’s what older Felix would have wanted.

“I don’t think he’ll succeed.”

Felix frowns. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I know how hard it is to learn magic. I’m sure Sylvain is very intelligent, but it takes a lot of hard work to use Reason.”

“Sylvain can do it. I know he can.”

She sighs and turns a baleful eye down at Felix. “You’re a stubborn one aren’t you.”

“Glenn said that to me too when he didn’t believe me that I could stay up all night waiting for Sylvain.”

“And did you prove him wrong?”

Felix turns to full face her, expression full of gravity.

“Yup.” The dead seriousness of his tone looses Lysithea’s first laugh of the day and she cannot help but be drawn towards this little boy, the same way she was drawn to his older self.

Deigning not to continue a lost conversation, the cake loving Gremory opts to turn back and watch the progress that the other two have made, leaving Felix muttering to himself about his steadfast belief in his best friend.

----

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got!”

The sun is setting and it is nearly time for dinner by the time Sylvain and Annette break away from Magic and Sorcery: Vol 1. to actually put some practice to the theory they have spent all day studying.

“Now, don’t be too disappointed if you can’t get it.” Annette says while moving out of the way. “You did just learn the basics and it takes a lot of practice!”

Lysithea has not moved from her perch from a nearby bench. She’s still extremely skeptical that Sylvain will manage to do very much at all. Yes, it is true that he had a budding talent for Reason during their academy days, but Sylvain hardly ever applied himself to any of his studies. The professor had to literally force him to attend one on one magic lessons with her before his aptitude for spells finally emerged.

Although, she muses, this younger Sylvain seems to be more enthusiastic to participate in things he was interested in. Even now, the scrunched up look of concentration on his face is indication enough that the Sylvain Lysithea is used to is a much different creature than the one before her currently.

House Ordelia does not really have any established trade routes with the Gautier territory, but the Ordelia heir has heard enough to know that the current Margrave is an arrogant, crest-obsessed prick.

It doesn’t take a prodigy to connect the dots and surmise that Sylvain’s carefree attitude and refusal to apply himself to anything is a product of his father’s suffocating expectations.

Fuck Margrave Gautier.

Maybe Lysithea does want Sylvain to prove her wrong and succeed; then at least he can go back home and light his father’s breeches on fire.

She’s only slightly disappointed when her expectations prove correct and the best Sylvain can conjure is one tiny flicker from a lone flame in his hand. However, it is still much more than she thought Sylvain would be able to do and for that, she is genuinely impressed.

Annette is also very much awestruck with Sylvain’s quick learning and happily informs the boy of this all the way to the dining hall. Sylvain is uncharacteristically quiet as he listens to the older mage praise him, but he is not yet skilled enough in the art of hiding behind a mask and the slight downward tilt of his lips does not go unnoticed.

“You really did an amazing job learning so much in such a short time, Sylvain! Don’t be too disappointed that you couldn’t do it.”

Sylvain gives a weak smile in return, but it is Felix who ultimately responds; one hand clasped tightly in the Gautier’s and the other one balled into a fist.

“Sylvain can do it. Just watch.”

----

Dinner passes without much fanfare and the boys are eventually tucked in for the night. Claude and Byleth have long decided that a full-time night chaperone is no longer necessary; although occasionally, one of their friends will peek into the room in the dead of night before they retire, but very rarely do they find anything wrong that requires their attention. A week has already passed with no incident, so there should be no need to exhaust their soldiers by keeping them up at night.

Except this time, when Petra nudges the door to their room open – being extremely careful not to open it too fast lest the hinges squeak – she does not see any sign of Felix or Sylvain anywhere.

It is the dead of night, but Garreg Mach Monastery blazes alive with a flurry of panic at the toll of the emergency bell.

“You’re absolutely sure no one saw them leave their room?”

Seteth slams his palms on the table and interrogates the night shift guards; his brows furrowed and mind racing a mile a minute.

If the enemy has somehow managed to sneak into Garreg Mach and kidnap the children, then they are well and truly fucked. They may have to abandon their home base or at the very least do an extensive investigation of their current ranks and re-evaluate their current passive defense.

“There were no signs that a struggle was happening.” Petra voices from her place around the war table. “I am having confidence that they left with willingness.”

“Goddess, please keep them safe.” The situation leaves a bad taste in Flayn’s mouth; it is much too reminiscent of when she was kidnapped and although it has been years since the incident, the memories still plague her.

Byleth’s voice leaves no room for discussion, “everyone split up and search the grounds. Most of our facilities are locked up at night so that should help limit the number of places we need to search.”

Everyone dashes out of the room with their orders and branch off at the second floor corridor. Those once belonging to the Black Eagle house comb through the main hall while the former Blue Lion students check all surrounding independent buildings; the Golden Deer fanning out to cover the outdoor grounds of the monastery.

An hour passes. Then another. And another.

Soon it is 3 in the morning and the panic is truly beginning to set in, giving rise to an unsettling fear clawing its way up from the depths of the night.

“Dimitri, Dedue! Have you found anything?” Ingrid pants and skids to a halt just below the stairs to the Sauna; the rest of her Blue Lion classmates run up to join her and debrief their findings.

“Nothing,” Dedue’s tone is flat as usual but his strangled expression is enough to betray his underlying worry. “We have searched all the open buildings and the grounds. There is no sign of them at all.”

Annette is near tears now and Mercedes places a hand on her shoulder, offering her silent support even while she herself is fiddling with her shawl, an attempt to keep her mind occupied before it spirals.

“It’s not like them to run away,” Ashe frowns. “Did anything happen today? Were they acting weird at all?”

“Not really. All we did was practice magic at the training grounds.”

Mercedes frowns. “Perhaps they left something there and went back to retrieve it?”

“The training grounds should be locked at 11PM. No one should be able to get in or out until sunrise.” Dimitri shakes his head.

“Well then we’re clearly running out of ideas here!” Ingrid throws up her hands in frustration and rakes them through her hair which is on the verge of looking like a bird’s nest. “We’ve checked the dining hall and the greenhouse but –“

“Your Majesty.” Dedue’s raised voice cuts Ingrid short and they look over to see the doors to the training grounds swing open slowly with a slight push of the man’s hands. “The doors were not locked as we thought.”

It takes only a heartbeat for them to scramble through the large wooden doors and down the hallway, their rushed footsteps echoing like thunder in the stone corridor.

“Oh Goddess. I smell smoke. Does anyone else smell smoke?” If her heartbeat accelerates any more, Annette is pretty sure she will have a heart attack.

“It’s coming from over there!” Their King leads the charge towards the magical training arena where the smell of smoke is the thickest.

When they burst into the open area, they are prepared for the worst. Weapons are drawn and hands raised with spells on the tips of tongues, but the sight they are greeted with is enough to shock them into stasis.

There in the middle of the sandpit, hunched over and panting hard, albeit with a brilliant grin on his face, is Sylvain. The practice dummy a few feet in front of him is alit with flames, illuminating the room with an orange glow, casting shadows along the stone walls that flicker like a live audience.

And off to the side bundled up in a woolen teal blanket that they all recognize, is a tired, but extremely proud looking Felix Fraldarius staring directly at the newcomers.

“I told you he could do it!”

----

5.       Sylvain has given Felix all the pieces of his fragile, fractured heart, even if he isn’t aware he possesses it.

Although once his greatest secret, Ignatz no longer hides his passion for art from his fellow Resistance Army members.

It’s not uncommon these days for people to find him at random places in the monastery with his art supplies sketching away at preserving a moment in time on blank paper forevermore.

Today, he is sitting on a bench next to a large oak tree, just a stone’s throw away from the main grounds. Beneath the shade and tucked between two large roots lie Sylvain and Felix, both completely tuckered out from their earlier attempts at climbing the towering tree. Sylvain is starfished on the ground with his arms stretched wide; to his left, Felix lays curled away from him with his head pillowed on the outstretched limb.

Sylvain and Felix have been the talk of the monastery for the past week and it is pretty obvious why. It’s not every day that you see two high ranking generals revert back to their child forms. Especially the most notorious bother-me-and-I’ll-bite-your-head-off and if-it-breathes-I’ll-flirt-with-it Generals to boot.

Of course, stories of their shenanigans and troublemaking usually fill the daily meal conversations, but there is one topic that floats above all else; the one that makes the maids in the kitchen giggle and even the burliest of knights crack a smile:

It is clear that even from a young age, Sylvain Jose Gautier and Felix Hugo Fraldarius are absolutely smitten with each other.

The two are inseparable and Ignatz is pretty sure that even a blind man would be able to see the absolute trust and unspoken devotion they have towards each other.

Ignatz has spent the day watching Felix and Sylvain, not just because it’s his turn to babysit, but also because he is fascinated with their bond. He had once thought that the Goddess was the most beautiful thing in the world, but the rawness and purity of their relationship fills him with more piety and awe than any portrait or statue of Sothis ever did.

It is like they are two parts of a well-oiled machine. Where one gives way, the other will step in to fill the gap; whenever Sylvain’s insecurities flare up, Felix is always there to chase the demons away with clumsy words and a physical display of affection, using his own body to ground his best friend and keep him close. Likewise, whenever tears well up in the youngest Fraldarius’ eyes (which is unfortunately quite often), Sylvain is there to wipe away the salty tracks and light up Felix’s heart with a smile warmer and brighter than sunshine.

Ignatz’s original plans were to draw the oak tree and the beautiful meadow of primrose flowers, but it seems that there will be a last minute change in muse.

Taking up his piece of charcoal, he begins the outline of what he thinks will be his fondest work to date.

Ignatz doesn’t know how long he spends sitting on that bench hunched over his sketchbook in silence with only the occasional birdsong floating through the silence. It’s so calm and peaceful that he doesn’t even notice that Sylvain has begun to stir until he looks up to find one of his subjects in a different position.

Leonie had warned him that Sylvain has a tendency towards nightmares. She had discovered that unfortunate fact in the first three days when each time she tip-toed into their room to check up on them, she found Sylvain wide awake with wild terror in his eyes and a sleepy Felix clinging to him comfortingly.

Strangely enough, Sylvain also does not startle awake from his nightmares. Instead, he slowly rouses himself as if from a deep sleep and if it weren’t for the glaze of lingering fear in his eyes, none would be able to tell that he had just woken up from a night terror.

That same glazed look is now flickering rapidly around him as if searching for the shadow of a monster that exists only within his mind.

“Sylvain…?”

Wild brown eyes finally settle on steady molten amber ones.

“Fe.”

“It’s okay, Sylvain. I’m here...”

Felix yawns and shuffles around until he is half wrapped around Sylvain with his left hand settling over Sylvain’s pounding heart.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you…” Small hands curl around the material of Sylvain’s shirt in a death grip. Felix’s loyalty and protectiveness so painfully evident even when the boy himself is half asleep. He manages to cling to the realm of the conscious for a little while longer, until the rapid thump thump thump of Sylvain’s heart slows to a steady lulling rhythm, pulling Felix back down under the veil of sleep.

Ignatz has silently watched this entire exchange and to be honest, he’s not really sure that Sylvain or Felix even remember that he is here with them. He cannot bring himself to make his presence known, so he continues to watch and observe.

He watches as the fear that was once in Sylvain’s eyes slowly recede again, the monsters inside his head vanquished in the company of his best friend. It only takes one more glance at the boy cuddled up to him with a hand protectively hovered over his heart to melt away the chains that bind him to the expectations of the people around him.

Here under this oak tree in a field of blooming young love, there is no crest or Miklan or nobility. There is only Felix and Sylvain.

Sylvain holds onto that truth as he wraps his free arm around the younger boy, tucking him more securely under his chin, letting the cool summer breeze lull him back to a dreamless sleep.

Ignatz pulls out a new page and starts a fresh outline. It takes him a little longer than anticipated to finish his drawing, but he figures it’s not such a bad thing since he likes this new version much better.

Later, as he trails after the now energetic boys back towards the monastery, Ignatz tucks his newest masterpiece securely under his arm, being very careful not to smudge the drawing or crease the paper.

After all, Claude did mention something about a wedding and Ignatz thinks that his drawing will make a fine gift.

----

Bonus: They’re just two idiots in love.

“Go away. Can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy my meal?”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Felix! You know, the younger you was much cuter. Definitely less prickly, too.” Dorothea pokes his cheek and snatches her hand away before Felix can stab it with his steak knife.

It’s been roughly a week since Felix and Sylvain have returned to their normal sizes, the dark magic having run its course and fizzling out without so much as a final spark. To the rest of the Army, this is a joyous occasion as it means that two of their best generals are now back to normal and can command them again. But to the last class of the academy… it is bittersweet.

Of course, they want their friends to return to normal. But that also means that Felix will go back to hissing and spitting with all the fury of a spooked cat and Sylvain will go back to seducing any individual that makes eye contact with him for longer than half a second.

“Better do as he says, Thea. Felix’s looking extra grumpy today and we wouldn’t want you to lose a pretty little finger.” Sylvain winks at her as he sets down his own meal and settles in the seat across from the swordsman.

The opera singer snorts, “right back to the flirting as usual. Save your hollow words for some other girl.”

“Ouch. Give a guy a break! I just recovered from a dark magic spell after all. Doesn’t that warrant some pity?”

“The only pity is that you immediately lost all your innocent and cute appeal when you reverted back to your regular body.”

Felix scowls at them, “if you insist on continuing your flirting, I’ll just eat my meal elsewhere.” He moves to stand but Sylvain is quicker and grabs his wrist, preventing him from moving.

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Just stay, okay? Please? For me, Fe?”

Sylvain is looking at Felix with that expression which he knows he cannot resist and Dorothea takes this opportunity to slip away while the two engage in a silent conversation with only their eyes.

“Fine.”

Their meal continues with little fanfare and easy conversation. Around them, their old classmates are scattered in their own little groups and if they notice, none of them mentions anything about how everyone seems to avoid sitting at Felix and Sylvain’s table.

Easy conversation flows into dessert, or more specifically: Felix wordlessly giving Sylvain his peach sorbet and Sylvain beaming a rare genuine smile and promising to join him at the training grounds first thing tomorrow morning.

The sun is slowly dipping below the horizon when Sylvain and Felix gather up their dishes. On their way out of the dining hall, Ignatz stops them with a heartfelt congratulations and a bundled up package that looks suspiciously like one of his works.

“Congratulations? For what?” Artfully tousled red hair shifts as Sylvain tilts his head in confusion and reluctantly accepts the gift.

“O-oh, well Claude just said…”

Dread rises up from the pit of Felix’s stomach. “What did that schemer say this time?”

“…He said that you two were getting married.”

“What?!”

[lady-divine-writes]

A Christmas Story (Rated PG)

An angel and a demon watching a Christmas pageant, discussing the bitter and enjoying the sweet. (1401 words)

The First Noel,

the Angels did say

Was to certain poor shepherds

in fields as they lay …

“Hmm … They’re quite good, aren’t they?”

“Quite.”

“Shame they had to drag these poor kids out in the cold to entertain us though, huh?”

“It is nippy out, yes.”

“Speaking of … cocoa?” Crowley nudges a thermos against Aziraphale’s arm. Aziraphale shifts only his eyes to look at it.

“Thank you,” he says softly, taking it in both hands. He sighs when his fingers wrap around the comfortably hot cylinder. He didn’t realize that he’d let himself go cold – probably out of sympathy for the choir of eight through twelve-year-olds singing their hearts out while their pastor and a flock of altar tenders lay a statue of baby Jesus in a hay-laden manger.

It’s a tradition on Christmas Eve after midnight mass – the laying of the infant savior in his manger. And Crowley knows that Aziraphale never misses it.

But this is the first time Crowley gets to watch it with him.

“You found me,” Aziraphale says, unscrewing the lid to the thermos and taking a sip.

“It wasn’t all that hard.” Crowley reaches into an inside pocket of his coat as the wind blows around them, pulls out a black metal flask, and flashes it Aziraphale’s way. Aziraphale nods and tilts the mouth of the thermos towards him. Crowley uncaps the flask and, with a generous pour, makes the cocoa Irish. “Ironically, you’re the only angel out and about at present, during the one time of the year you guys should be swarming the streets.”

“Yes, well …” Aziraphale lets the remaining sentence drown inside the thermos with his next sip, not expending any energy towards defending the absence of his kind.

Aziraphale didn’t choose the biggest church to go to on this blessed night, not the sort that would have a mob gathered round it, or celebrities in attendance who would attract a crowd. This church is humble, out of the way. It took Crowley effort to get to it. He could only drive his Bentley so far. Then he was forced to park and hike the rest of the way through wet grass in the dark. As churches go, this one that they’re standing in front of is a much more accurate representation of the barn that baby Jesus was born in.

Which means the people who have come to worship must really want to be here to go so far out of their way.

“To be honest, I’m hurt you didn’t invite me to come with you,” Crowley says, taking a swig from his flask.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“I like the Christmas story as much as the next demon.”

“You were asleep.”

“Of course I was asleep!” Crowley chortles. “It’s after midnight!”

“I didn’t want to wake you. I know how much you like to sleep.”

“I like being with you more.”

Aziraphale smiles at his husband’s remark, but it doesn’t take his eyes away from his focus. Crowley observes Aziraphale from the corner of his eye, tries to imagine what he’s thinking as he watches these modern day humans act out a scene he witnessed firsthand centuries ago. But the longer Crowley watches him, he begins to notice that his angel isn’t looking where he’d assumed - not at the cherubic baby Jesus raising his chubby arms in exultation, not at the bright lights or the decorations, or the choir. He’s not looking at the rest of the players entering the scene – a shepherd wearing a stuffed sheep across his shoulders, playfully admiring it like it’s an expensive mink stole; another stoic boy, his bulky varsity jacket showing beneath his thin linen robe; a teenage Joseph who’s yawned twice already; a slightly younger mother Mary with vibrant pink hair peeking out from along the edges of a chunky knit pompom hat; a flamboyant King Caspar prancing down the aisle, absolutely dousing the audience with frankincense - as the song selection changes to Angels We Have Heard on High. The children seem to be having a blast despite the hour and the temperature, but Aziraphale has stopped enjoying their antics.

He’s gazing over their heads, eyes locked on a crucifix standing beyond the festivities, shrouded in shadow.

“These kids are putting on a stellar performance,” Crowley says, inching closer to his husband and slipping an arm through his. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a lively re-enactment.”

“They are doing a wonderful job,” Aziraphale admits, his voice thick.

“So why so glum? Hmm? What’s on your mind?”

Aziraphale takes a final poignant sip from the thermos. He screws the lid back on and stuffs it in his coat pocket. He puts a hand over Crowley’s, breathes in deep, and blinks watery eyes. “I saw that boy born. I watched him grow. I heard him preach the Almighty’s message. I saw him feed the poor, heal the sick …” Aziraphale pauses, swallowing when his voice cracks, but it does nothing to smooth it down. “We watched him die.”

“I remember,” Crowley says, squeezing Aziraphale’s arm tight.

“He was Her truest, most devout Prophet … and She let them nail him to a cross. Her own son!”

“She did it to prove how much She loved humanity.” Crowley tries to comfort his husband, but his tone stiffens. “Her great sacrifice.”

“But it wasn’t Her great sacrifice, was it? It was his. And from what I remember, he didn’t get much say in the matter.” Aziraphale scoffs. “Seems to be a running theme with Her, if you ask me.”

“Can’t disagree with you there.”

“But then, after all that, She would have let humanity die? In another pointless war to prove Heaven is more powerful than Hell?”

Crowley shrugs. “Maybe not. Maybe She let it play out the way it did because She knew how it would end. Maybe She designed it that way. You know – the Ineffable Plan?”

“The Ineffable Game, you mean,” Aziraphale says exhaustively. “I’m tired of all the games.”

“She does excel at them.”

Aziraphale leans into his husband’s arm, rests his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind so much if She’d at least let us know the rules!”

“Well, like you’ve said before – Her plan, Her game, Her rules. It’s not for us to question.”

“You, my dear, were cast out for asking questions. We’ve been on opposite sides for over 6000 years. Regardless of our friendship, of the lines we blurred, I thought I knew where we stood – black and white, cut and dry. But now I’m beginning to doubt.”

“Times have changed. Things were simpler way back when.”

“Were they though?”

Crowley exhales long into the chilly air. “I don’t know.”

“Anyway, probably not long before she casts me out, too. The thing is … I’m not sure I’d be too upset about that.”

“She won’t cast you out,” Crowley says reassuringly, if only for himself. “You’re the only angel She has who actually behaves like an angel.”

“Even with all the tempting?” Aziraphale asks smugly.

Crowley grins at his husband’s cheek. “Even with. If she hasn’t cast you out by now, she isn’t going to. If you ask me, I think She has greater plans for you.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think I care.”

“I think you do.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you love your job. You love Earth. And you love humanity. You’ve fought hard to protect it. Almost died, too. I would like to believe that, in the end, even if no one else knows about it, it means something to Her.”

“So what do you suggest I do? Hold my breath and wait for a commendation?”

“You do what you were put here to do. You inspire humanity. You watch over them. You bless them. And you do it not because She commands it, but because you love them. You want what’s best for them. Luckily, now you have the freedom to decide what that is.”

Aziraphale snuggles deeper against his husband’s side, his eyes leaving the crucifix and rejoining the pageant right as King Caspar hands off his frankincense to a bleary-eyed Joseph and performs a dramatic death drop to rousing applause. “You know, you would have made a decent Principality.”

“Yuck.”

“A better Archangel, even.”

Crowley shakes his head. “Not at all. In fact, I’ve only ever met one being who truly deserves the title.” He drops a kiss in Aziraphale’s hair. “And I married him.”

[callmewishful]

Power and Grace

“Well, I…I have to go.”

---------------------------------------------------

“Oh, thank the Goddess.” Sylvain muttered to Ashe as they walked into class.

Ashe looked confused at his walking partner. The classroom appeared normal; most people having arrived already. He turned to look out the door they’d came in. The sun was shining brightly in the morning sky, “I mean…it is a nice day….”

“Not that.” Sylvain shook his head, “That.” He gestured to Felix and Evyanna deep in conversation at their desks. Evy was drawing out something on a piece of paper and explaining it to Felix, who seemed rather impressed by whatever she was saying.

“Oh,” Ashe nodded in understanding, “Yeah, they really hadn’t talked for a while there, hadn’t they?”

“What can I say, Ashe? Felix is a stubborn man.”

“So, I think we start with the Black Eagles, because then we can take out the ballista-“

“How do you know the Eagles will have the ballista?” Felix interrupted her. “How do you know Claude or Ignatz won’t take it?”

Evy snorted, “Over Edelgard? Please. Edelgard will break Claude’s nose for the ballista.”

“Touché.”

“So anyway, we want Ashe on the ballista, so I think you or I should take out the Eagles archer…who is…shoot.”

“Bernadetta.” Felix supplied, taking the quill from Evy’s hand and writing the girls name on the paper where the Ballista was. Despite his dedication to sword training over book training, he had fairly nice handwriting. “She’s meek and shy and squeals in fear just by looking at me. She’ll be easy to take down.”

Evy giggled, “That scary are you?”

“I think it’s the eyes.”

Evy could concede to that. He did have unusual eyes. She didn’t find them scary though, more intriguing than anything. “Okay, so we take out Bernadetta first to have control of the ballista. If you rush ahead to take her out, I can have Ashe stay behind me to get him to the spot. The Eagles and the Deer will be close together so if we want that prize we’ll have to be fast in taking them out before they cut each other down.”

“The Eagles have a lot of magic users if I remember right. Ashe can focus on them once they’re in range. Maybe we should go for them first to get them out of the way?”

“What do the Eagles focus on?”

“Bernie’s the archer, Edelgard uses an axe, I think Hubert is a magic user, dark magic if I remember right, because he’s a sketchy ass man. Petra uses the sword, Dorothea is a magic user, Caspar uses an axe I think, don’t quote me on that. Linhardt is a magic user, Ferdinand uses a lance?”

“So, we have three magic users for the Eagles and four weapon users? What about the Deer again?”

“Claude is a bow, Ignatz is a bow, Leonie is a bow but sometimes a sword user. Lysithea and Marianne are magic users. Maybe Lorenz too? Hilda uses a lance and I think Raphael uses an axe or his fists.”

“The Deer have fewer magic users then. Maybe we should go for them first? Let the Eagle’s magic users come to the center of the field and be picked off by Ashe?” Evy drew arrows from her, Felix, and Ashe to the center of the map. Then she drew arrows showing Dimitri, Dedue, and Sylvain going up close and personal for the Deer. “If we want, Ingrid could fly ahead and get personal with the Eagle weapon users. Once Ashe is secure on the ballista you and I can go for the Eagles too so she’s not alone. You’re a good dodger.”

“I wouldn’t mind going for Hubert, actually. I’ve wanted to test my skill against his anyway.”

“He’ll be parked up Edelgard’s ass though. So, if you go for him you’ll have to fight her off too.”

“Come with me, then. You can take her.”

“I can go with you guys too. Help ward off some of the magic users.” Annette piped up. Felix and Evyanna looked up from their work to see the entire class surrounding their desks viewing Evy’s drawing as well. Evy’s face turned a light pink and she immediately cast her eyes back down to the paper.

Felix took the quill and drew an arrow from Annette to the Black Eagles side, seemingly unbothered by the class listening in. “That’ll make us more even too.”

“I think it’s a good strategy.” The Professor praised, “does anyone have anything they’d like to add or change?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I yield! I yield!” Bernadetta squealed, cowering in fear.

“I didn’t even touch you.” Felix muttered, but lowered his training sword. “Ashe, get up there.”

Ashe rushed past Evy and took Bernadetta’s spot on the ballista making quick work of loading it with the training arrows. Evy watched Dimitri and Sylvain engaging with Lorenz and Hilda in the distance. She smiled proudly while her boys fought. So far, their plan was working quite nicely.

“Annette, let’s go.” Felix instructed, taking no time to admire the fight before them. Over to the east, Ingrid swooped in and began engaging Ferdinand. The three took off towards the Eagles to help their flier, Evy being pulled from her observance. She rushed in to stop Linhardt from using magic against Ingrid, forcing him to yield. Felix and Annette were tackling Dorothea together. Evy was often impressed by Dorothea. So confident and talented, both musically and magically.

“ARGH!” Evy barely dodged Petra’s swinging blade after beating Lorenz, stumbling backwards and nearly losing her footing. Petra noticed how off-balance she was and came in ferociously swinging with speed Evy could barely match with how caught off guard she’d been.

Petra was about to go in for the final blow, Evy barely holding on, “You will yield!”

“No,” Felix interrupted her with his training sword in her back, “You will yield.”

Petra slowly lowered her blade, turning to look at Felix, “I must yield?”

“I don’t see a training sword in my back.”

She nodded in agreement and sighed, “I must yield. I worked hard. You are lucky to have your sword man boyfriend to save you, Zelshire Princess.”

Evy fixed her grip on her sword and sputtered, “Oh, I-I mean…we-”

Felix’s face was bright red, not from the exertion of battle, and he quickly turned away to go back to the fight. Evy could feel her face was just as hot as Felix’s looked and she stopped trying to explain seeing as she couldn’t get words out of her mouth.

“You have the oddest of relationships with the sword man boyfriend, Zelshire Princess.” Petra looked between the two before exiting the battlefield.

Evyanna didn’t even try. She was so flustered between the conversation and Petra’s relentless attacks that she gave up. After a quick deep breath, she had to get back into the battle. Annette and Felix were coming up on Hubert and Edelgard and they’d need help.

She rushed back into the action, trying to clear her head as much as she could. One thing kept sticking out to her though: Felix didn’t deny it.

Of course, they weren’t dating, but he didn’t deny Petra’s assumption of a romantic relationship. Maybe he thought he didn’t have time for such nonsense, seeing as he’d left Annette to save Evy. Maybe he thought he had to go back to save Annette. Maybe he saw Evy was already making an attempt to clear up the confusion and didn’t see the point in him doing so also. Or…maybe he didn’t deny it because he wanted a romantic relationship.

Evyanna nearly laughed out loud at herself. Felix? Dating? She really could be quite funny.

So funny, that she mentioned the story to Ingrid on their victory walk back. Ingrid thought it was funny too that Petra would say that. Anyone who knew Felix knew he was basically emotionally empty. As far as Evy knew, the only emotion Felix had was anger.

Still, she couldn’t help the hopeful feeling in her chest when she thought about him. She knew better, really. Mother always told her to never expect a man to change. ‘If you don’t like him now, you won’t like him ever.’ Though it wasn’t that she didn’t like Felix…she just wished he wanted the same thing.

It was stupid really. Felix was clearly not interested in a relationship. He told her that his only focus was getting stronger and working on his skills with the blade. If she wanted a relationship she should focus on someone else. Dimitri perhaps….

After the mock battle, all the students had a feast together in the dining hall at Claude’s insistence, celebrating the enjoyment of the fight and the Blue Lions win. The night was a lot of fun.

Claude dropped two bags of marshmallows on the table after dinner with a smirk on his face. Evy gasped, “Are we playing Chubby Bunny?!”

“What’s that?” Claude asked, even though he brought the marshmallows.

“It’s a contest to see how many marshmallows you can fit in your mouth.” She explained, opening up one of the bags.

“That sounds ridiculous.” Felix muttered from his spot next to her.

Sylvain rolled his eyes, “You’re just mad that you’re a little man with a small mouth and can’t fit that many marshmallows in.”

“Give me one of those damn bags.” Felix snapped, reaching for the bag of the sticky confection in Evy’s hands.

“Now, now, now! Wait! We gotta go at the same time to keep track. Who’s in? Me, Felix, anyone else?” Claude gestured marshmallows to people.

All in all, Claude, Felix, Evy, Dimitri, Edelgard (after much chiding from Claude about being the only house lead who wasn’t playing), Sylvain, Ferdinand, Annette, Petra, Caspar, Leonie, and Raphael joined the contest. It was easy until around 6-7 marshmallows. Then people’s cheeks looked puffy and people started giggling. If you giggled, you were basically done for.

Annette was out first at 9 marshmallows, followed by Petra and Edelgard at 11. Evy and Leonie only got 12, while Ferdinand, to Evy’s surprise, fit 14. Evy was really only surprised because he didn’t seem like one to try during these games. He was Ferdinand von Aegir…so she heard.

Dimitri and Caspar were out next with 15 marshmallows – Dimitri awkwardly laughing about his puffy cheeks the entire time. Raphael was out at 16 because he was trying to cheat by eating them.

“Wahh Wou.” Felix tried to talk to Sylvain with 17 marshmallows in his mouth.

“Ah?” Sylvain, naturally, had zero idea what the hell Felix was saying.

“Wuak Wou.”

“Wah?”

Felix rolled his eyes and flipped Sylvain off, “Wak Wou.” Evy snickered.

Claude was trying his very best not to laugh so none of his marshmallows fell out and was failing. He was out at 17.

“Alright! Who has 18? Is it Sylvain or Felix?” Ingrid had easily taken on the role of announcer for the contest.

Felix put the marshmallow at the entrance of his mouth and used the palm of his fist to mash it in. Sylvain was trying to pry one side of his mouth open to make his marshmallow fit.

“It’s gotta be more than 50% in!” Ingrid chided Sylvain when he tried to claim victory by barely holding onto the marshmallow with the edge of his mouth.

“He’s got it! He’s got it!” Evy shouted, pointing at Felix, who had the marshmallow wedged in along with the other 17.

“Felix has it Sylvain!” Annette teased. Sylvain’s inability was not for lack of trying, he was pushing the marshmallow and prying his mouth, but it was not working. He looked hopefully at Ingrid.

“What do we think guys? Does he have it?” She asked the rest of the classes.

Evy shook her head, along with most. People erupted in their opinions. The little marshmallow was barely hanging on.

“Waa wou.” Felix grabbed one more for good measure and tried shoving it in his mouth. The class laughed hysterically as Sylvain mock-groaned with a chuckle of his own.

“You can’t laugh! Laughing is the bane of Chubby Bunny.” Evy giggled at him, handing him another marshmallow. Sylvain waved the marshmallow off. He barely made 18, there was no way he was making 19.

“Are you tapping out?” Claude asked in disbelief, “Get that marshmallow in there, son!” Claude took the marshmallow from Evy, trying to help Sylvain get it in his mouth. They both were laughing too hard to accomplish the feat. Felix barely had his 19th in but was determined to go for 20 when he saw Sylvain going for 19.

Before Sylvain could get 19 he laugh/coughed most of his marshmallows out. Felix slammed both of his hands on the table and flipped Sylvain off with both middle fingers. He spit out his marshmallows onto a plate, “Fuck off! Who’s little now?!”

“Damn! What the hell, Felix?” Sylvain chuckled rubbing his sore cheeks. Apparently one could never underestimate Felix when he was trying to prove someone wrong.

The table erupted into excited chatter about how Felix was able to beat everyone, despite thinking the game was ridiculous AND not even liking sweets (which Mercedes and Lysithea found an absolute crime).

The rest of the night was spent laughing, joking, and drinking, thanks to Claude and Sylvain. Turned out that Sylvain was a master drink mixer, raiding the Monastery cupboards and his own room stash for booze. They started the party in the dining hall, Dimitri reluctantly joining in on the drinking, though “not too much as it wouldn’t be very becoming for a King.” Once the party in the dining hall ended, the Blue Lions took their party back to the dorm rooms. Well, Sylvain’s dorm room so as not to disturb Claude, who had already been exclaiming he would be having a massive headache the next day.

The Blue Lion house shoved themselves into the boy’s room: crowding on the bed, his desk, and any spare chairs they could fit in the room. They drank, except for Dimitri, Dedue, and Mercedes, who mother-henned the group instead – forcing water on them and food as the night went on. Evy had never felt so apart of the group, wedged between Ingrid and Felix and laughing along with the rest of class. It was quite humorous to see the intoxicated side of some of their classmates.

“Evy! Remember when Lea broke his ankle, and I broke my arm that summer?” Sylvain shouted. Evy was not far enough away for him to need to shout, but he thought it was appropriate.

“How did you break your arm that summer? You refused to tell us the story.” Dimitri was sitting properly in Sylvain’s desk chair. He’d refused to sit on the desk itself like Sylvain was, because ‘that was not how desks were meant to be used.’ He did however, let Annette sit in front of his legs and use them as her back rest.

Sylvain broke out in more laughter. He jumped off his desk to dig around his dresser. Dimitri cringed, “Please tell me this story is appropriate.”

“Shh. I’m getting the demonstration ready.” Sylvain chided, pulling out an extra blanket.

“I’ll break your arm for you.” Felix volunteered, earning a jab in the ribs from Evy. Felix looked to her with a frown, “What? I would.”

Sylvain waved Felix off and grabbed all four corners of the blanket. “So, you know how when you fall, you feel all the wind blowing from the ground up at you? Well, we were like, dude, what if when you jump, you had something to catch the wind and then you could use the wind to make you fly instead of falling?! So, we got blankets like this, and grabbed all the corners and then we went up on top of the training hall and jumped off to see if it works!” Sylvain frowned at the memory, finally getting to the ending, “Turns out, you lose your grip and fall down anyway. Or if you don’t lose your grip, like Lea, you still don’t fly. Was really a bummer actually. I think I made out better though because I only broke my arm. Lea couldn’t walk for weeks.”

Dimitri sighed, rubbing his face, “Oh dear Goddess. If I’d known you were going to be so much trouble I wouldn’t have left you alone.”

Sylvain scoffed, “Please. We were conducting science. That’s hardly trouble.”

“You broke the Prince’s ankle.”

“I didn’t do it. Air did…well technically the ground when he landed.” Sylvain shrugged, tossing the blanket down to Annette who had been reaching for it.

Mercedes giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, “How did you spend that summer Your Highness? If not with Sylvain and this Lea.”

Dimitri smiled, fondly recalling the memories of that summer. He looked at his summer-mate as he answered, “I spent it with Evyanna, actually. While Sylvain and her younger brother, Lea got into massive amounts of mischief, we spent the summer exploring.”

“Exploring…” Sylvain winked, giving Dimitri a suggestive look.

The Prince’s face turned bright red, “N-not like that!” That was a slight lie. “There’s lots of beautiful sights in Zelshire.”

“Oh, I know it.” Sylvain continued to give Dimitri a shit-eating grin. While the rest of the class laughed at Dimitri’s expense, except Felix. Felix narrowed his eyes at the Prince.

Dimitri became increasingly flustered under Sylvain’s gaze and the Lion’s laughter, “I-I didn’t mean…I mean, not that the Princess isn’t…I-that’s not-“ Dimitri took a breath, “we just explored the nature trails and-“

“A happy trail, eh?”

“Sylvain!” Dimitri scolded, “We were far too young for such things.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. I’m not even sure you got a good beard coming in now.”

Evy couldn’t help the round of giggles that came through, leaning on Felix’s shoulder to help stifle them. It wasn’t really working.

“Okay, okay. You guys it is getting late!” Dimitri chided. This had to stop before things got worse. “This has been a fantastic night, but we should all be getting to be bed.”

“Fuck off, Boar Prince.” Felix, who’d lost what little filter he had during the night especially after the prior conversation, rolled his eyes at him.

Evy put a finger to Felix’s surprisingly soft lips, “Shhh, Fe. Be polite.”

“Oh, fucking kiss already.” Sylvain muttered to himself and Ashe, who he’d leaned into. He chugged the last of his drink quickly.

“Dimitri is right, Felix.” Mercedes stepped in, hoping that Felix would be nicer if she was the one to dictate, “It’s getting late and you need your rest so you can train tomorrow.”

The promise of training caught Felix’s attention and he stopped arguing. Reluctantly, and with some more mothering from Dimitri and Mercedes, they all started packing up. Mercedes took Annette and Ingrid down to the girls’ side of the dorms while Dimitri walked Ashe back down to the first floor. Evy lingered around Felix and Sylvain. Sylvain’s bed was too comfy to get up quite yet.

“Come on, we gotta train tomorrow.” Felix held out his hands to help her up. She groaned slightly but took them. Being an adult sucked sometimes.

“I just wanna take a nap.” She whined, leaning against his chest for a brief moment. Her legs lumbered her out the door and down the familiar hall. She’d give almost anything to be able to close her eyes and sleep with how tired she felt. Now that the high of victory and the buzz of her friends had worn off she was beat.

She heard Felix tell Sylvain to shut up behind her and she giggled. He was quite the character. Unlike any noble she’d ever met. He’d be an interesting heir. Part of her was really bummed that she wouldn’t get to see much of him once she left the monastery.

“Hey, Leighton.” His slightly slurred voice sounded behind her, along with slightly rushing footsteps.

Her bright leafy green eyes looked back at him, “Felix, you passed your ro-” Evy was cut off by his body crashing into hers, his hungry lips devouring her. She eagerly returned his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him closer to her. Felix picked her up under her legs and pressed her back against the wall, deepening their impromptu make-out session.

Dimitri skipped back up the steps from ensuring Ashe made it to his room safely but stopped dead when he saw the amorous display in the hallway. He let out a small gasp as his eyes widened, but the sound did nothing to deter the apparent lovers. Sylvain was behind the pair, standing in his own doorway, giving Dimitri a thumbs up and a big grin. Dimitri wondered if Sylvain had decided to challenge Felix again and now this was the result.

The prince awkwardly walked by the couple, politely avoiding them with his eyes.

“Liquid courage strikes again.” Sylvain chuckled when Dimitri was in earshot.

“I didn’t realize Felix had feelings for Evyanna that way.” Dimitri admitted, his own heart conflicted at the sight of them together. But perhaps that was just their previous betrothment talking.

Sylvain scoffed, “Please, that’s why he avoided her for two months. He was trying to get over his little crush. I finally convinced him to man up tonight.” Sylvain grinned at the couple, proud of his handywork.

Dimitri reluctantly looked back at them. They’d stopped kissing, though Felix still had Evy pressed against the wall. Their foreheads were connected as they shared a smile between each other. Both of them looked rather happy. If his friends were happy, then he could be happy for them.

“You aren’t going to watch them all night, are you?” Dimitri was just as reluctant to ask Sylvain the question, more because he feared the answer.

“Nah. I just wanted to make sure he’d actually kiss her.”

Dimitri exhaled in relief, “Well, it appears you got your wish.” And with that, he went to try and sleep.

Evyanna and Felix did quite the opposite – kissing, grinding, and teasing until they were both left tired and panting. It was too soon for sex; they were buzzed and had only just expressed romantic interest in one another. Sex could wait. Besides, Evyanna found herself dizzy just from Felix’s lips. Well, alcohol might have offered some help too.

Felix was a bit surprised to find Evyanna curled up against his chest in the morning until the memories of the night before came flooding back…Sylvain telling him that Dimitri was going to confess feelings for Evy…him being…well, pissed at the thought…stopping her in the hallway…shoving her against the wall…attacking each other with hot kisses…her breath against his skin…shit.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. Fucking alcohol, making him act on his feelings.

Evyanna shifted on top of him, hugging him tighter. The two of them on the bed was a bit of a tight squeeze. Felix supposed it could’ve been worse – at least he got to be with her, and she didn’t reject him.

“Good morning.” She whispered rubbing her face against his tunic, nuzzling against him.

“Morning.” He rubbed her arm with another sigh. Part of him wanted himself to stop ruining this moment, but the other part was irritated at himself for letting it happen. What happened to trying to forget his feelings for her?

Evy peered up at him with shy eyes, as if she could tell exactly what he was thinking. This possibility made Felix even more uncomfortable, “Are you upset?”

That was a loaded question. Of course, he was upset – he acted on emotions he had been trying for months to get rid of . But, in reality…he did like it…fuck. “No.” He muttered, trying to avoid her eyes. How pathetic would it be to bother her with his internal conflict the first night they spent together? What was he, the Boar?

“You don’t sound sure.” Evy was having none of his avoidance and propped herself up on her arm so she could look him in the face. She was so beautiful, her bright green eyes so sweet and gentle, just like her soft features, in the morning. Her hair was a mess, but Felix was 100% certain that was partially his fault as well. Even still, she was everything Felix was not: gentle, loving, open…how the hell did such a soft person have feelings for a rough-around-the-edges swordsman? Perhaps he should take her feelings while she had them; before she wisened up and ditched him.

“I-I am.” He decided. “It’s just…different.” That part wasn’t a lie. Felix had never been interested in the relationship aspect of people before. Not until she skipped her way into his life.

She smiled softly at him, rubbing his cheek with her thumb in a gentle way that made him blush. “It is different, but I think it’s a good different.”

“Good different.” Felix agreed quietly. Anything more and he’d start stumbling over his words due to her touch. She kissed his other cheek and gave him one more quick cuddle before they had to get ready. He felt cold as she left the bed and mentally he hated himself. No way he could start this lovey shit…fuck.

“Good morning, Evy, Felix. How did- oh Goddess.” Dimitri’s face burned at breakfast as he realized that he didn’t want to know the answer to the question he almost asked.

Next to him, Sylvain snickered, but the new couple couldn’t figure out why.

“How did what?” Evy asked, encouraging him to keep going while not understanding why he paused in the first place. Dimitri seemed embarrassed about something. Perhaps the fact that he’d been drinking with them the night before? Evy didn’t remember him doing anything embarrassing. He only had one mixed drink before he cut himself off. Sylvain, Felix, and Annette had been much heavier drinkers.

“Um, how did…I mean, how was…good morning.” Dimitri’s face was positively red with embarrassment. He really didn’t want to ask the question but could figure out no good way out of it.

Felix narrowed his eyes at the boy, “What’s wrong with you? You’re even more incompetent than normal.”

“Well, I…I have to go.” Dimitri blurted out, getting up and rushing out of the dining hall. Evy and Felix shared a confused look. Sylvain burst out laughing, his face red for an entirely different reason than Dimitri’s had been.

“What’s his problem?” Felix demanded, “Why are you laughing?”

“He-...” Sylvain let out another bout of hysteria, “He saw you!”

“What?” Evy prayed to the Goddess that Sylvain did not mean what she thought he meant. She could feel her own cheeks starting to tinge with heat.

“In…the…hall.” Sylvain spit out between gasps of air.

Oh, dear Goddess.

Felix jumped up from his seat and sprinted out of the dining hall before Sylvain could get out another word. He ran up the retreating blonde and shoved him against the nearest pillar, “You tell ANYONE what you saw and I-I’ll-“

“No! No! I-I would never!” Dimitri stammered out, holding his hands up in surrender. Felix’s actions were starting to draw a crowd and Dimitri was getting even redder.

“Good! Because if you do, I’ll commit treason right here in front of everyone!” Felix threatened. He released the man after another good glare and pushed his raven hair out of his face.

“Right, yes. Understood.” Dimitri straightened himself out as well, looking anywhere but at Felix. “So,” he questioned after a few moments, “does this mean you guys aren’t-“ “No, we are.” Felix muttered, also not meeting Dimitri’s eyes. Fuck, did he just admit to Dimitri that he had a girlfriend?

“Oh. Okay…?”

“Just because we are doesn’t mean you get to talk about my love life.”

Dimitri nodded in understanding, “Right, of course not.”

“Good.”

From that point on Felix and Evy considered themselves “dating” but nothing much changed about their relationship from what anyone could tell. Most people in the monastery didn’t even know they were dating aside from Sylvain and Dimitri (and Ingrid because Sylvain could hardly keep a secret until Ingrid threatened him about telling anyone else). Felix and Evy still trained daily, talked during meals and class, and hung out at night. Nothing about their daily routine had changed. No displays of affection were shared. Not since the drunken night in her dorm room.

The only noticeable difference was that Evy appeared to tell Felix anytime she went anywhere. It was never a long conversation, instead going something simple like:

“Hey, you, I’m going to get dinner with the girls.”

“Ok.”

Or:

“Hi Felix, I’m going to the market with Ashe.”

“Ok.”

The first few times were moot. Felix was indifferent about the new development in their relationship. But it became constant, Evy seemingly interrupting his training at all hours just to tell him a stupid, trivial fact. He had hoped his evident irritation would ward her off, but she seemed oblivious to his frustrations as the days went on. It was hard to train when someone was constantly yammering at him.

“Hey, Felix. I’m going-“

“I don’t care!” He finally snapped, dropping his sword and turning to face her, “I don’t care where you go. Just go and get out of my face!”

Evy’s cheerful face fell, hurt by his sudden anger towards her. She didn’t understand what she’d done to upset him so much, “Oh. I-I’m sorry.”

“Look, this really isn’t working out.” He continued fuming at her, well past the point of no return.

“Wh-what?” Evy was completely thrown off guard. She thought things had been going really well. Slow, but well.

“You keep interrupting my training and you’re getting in my way, just like I thought a relationship would. If I want to keep getting better I can’t have you bugging me every 10 seconds with stupid information. I was right all along, okay: relationships aren’t for me. This was just a stupid mistake.”

Evy felt like the wind was completely knocked out of her chest. She struggled to get the words out at a volume he could hear, “Oh…ok.”

Trying to save a shred of her dignity, she turned and walked out. She’d had plans to have dinner with Sylvain and Dimitri, but her brain could barely function let alone sit through a dinner. She walked back to her dorm room on autopilot, still trying to register what the hell happened. She thought things were going very decently. A little slow on the emotional end, but she was trying to be patient with him since this was presumably his first relationship.

Dimitri was concerned when Evy didn’t show up for dinner. Even more concerned when she hadn’t just been caught up training with Felix. Even more concerned when she was completely silent and barely functional during class the next week. He was not the most observant creature, but between her sadness, Ingrid’s glares, and Felix’s rolling waves of frustration, Dimitri pieced it together: They’d been fighting.

He was not one to pry so he tried to be supportive from a casual distance, asking her to dinner and training more than normal. In the beginning she occasionally accepted his offers, but as time went on she was more and more willing to spend time with him again. He was glad that her and Felix were slowly working things out. He knew Felix could be quite stubborn.

He thought things were much better, so he was surprised to find her crying on his doorstep in the middle of the night with a few bags packed.

“Ah...Evyanna! What’s the matter?”

“I-I have to go!” She sobbed, shoving a letter in his hands with her shaky ones.

“You’re leaving the monastery?” Dimitri panicked. How bad had things with Felix gotten if she was leaving in the middle of the night?

Evy nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks, “I-I have to go home. Just read the letter. Tell the Professor I-I’m sorry I couldn’t tell her in person.”

Dimitri caught her arm as she turned to leave, pulling her into a quick hug, “Please be safe, Evyanna. And please reconsider when you have had some time. I’m sure Felix will come around.”

“What?”

Dimitri paused, “Y-you’re leaving because Felix…”

“No, Goddess, Dimitri, Felix and I broke up almost two weeks ago? I-I dunno. J-just read the letter. I really have to g-go!” She hiccupped through her tears and waved before rushing down the hall. Her and Felix had broken up that long ago? What? Here he thought things were better. Yet here he was just as clueless as he usually was.

He opened up the tear-stained letter and read, his jaw dropping as he did.

The heir to the throne: Quentin Augustus Leighton...was dead….

[ryoleoz]

part 1/2 of lindhardt getting sylvain to make caspar fat

This story I wrote and my friend helped me.

Sylvain had a very dirty mind and being very horny meant putting it to use on a regularly basis. When looking into ways to pleasure himself he’d come to reading in a book Lindhardt had leant him that by people getting fatter they will become hornier and in Sylvain’s mind, more likely to fuck with him. Lindhardt knew full well what he was setting in motion by giving Sylvain that book that he had magically altered himself to encourage Sylvain to follow his own desires specifically.

It didn’t take him long until Sylvain had gotten everything lined up. A special potion that both promotes weight gain and increases hunger as well as an aphrodisiac to promote a strong sex drive. All that was left was for him to decide who he wanted to fuck most. Currently he already gets in regularly sex a few times a week with Ashe who’s already easly almost as horny as Sylvain himself, running to him begging to put his cock up his soft and bubbly ass, Dimitri is too risky because of his guards now that the war is over and he has been crowned King of Faerghus...It was then he realized, how he’d felt watching Caspar build his muscles and work out sweating on campus each day, usually shirtless AND in shorts, exposing a hefty bulge, his thick thighs, and generous ass. Sylvain’s mouth would water as he watched him get bigger over time and he had tried countless attempts in moving their relationship into fuckbuddy territory, however Caspar wasn’t interested. He had mentioned how between Ashe’s slutty whole and Lindhardt’s needy throat he was well and set between the both of them, though he did compliment Sylvain from what he heard of his experience with sex.

Sylvain had decided, the perfect candidate for him to target. Caspar was already attractive, showed some interest in Sylvain and already held a healthy sex life. He knew there would be no way Caspar would be able to resist adding him to his list of cumrags after this, and besides, the thought of even just making Caspar grow larger send a shiver to Sylvain’s cock, warmth pooling into a full boner. He was excited.

----

Caspar and Ashe’s moans echoed throughout the room, the sensation of Lindhardt humming from underneath Caspar’s large asshole was exhilarating as Ashe skillfully grinded against his throbbing cock. He had already came before, But Ashe just wasn’t done with him yet and begged for round 2. Lindhardt thanked the goddess for Ashe’s puppy eyes working on their boyfriend who never seemed horny enough to fulfill the both of them. Licking at Caspar’s warm and wet hole with his hand working his clit he had reached his peak and nearly the same time as he heard Ashe’s voice crack in screaming “Ggnhh f-fuck! Ah, ah!” which set off Caspar like a chain reaction. The three laid in bed together, sticky and hot from fucking. Beginning to Doze off, Lindhardt prayed that Sylvain hadn’t chickened out of what he had set him up for.

------

“Thanks for inviting me for lunch Sylvain! I’m surprised ya know how to cook at all with how you get around, but it looks great!” Caspar’s eyes glowed off the plate of meats, fried chicken, a few burgers, steak, ribs, plenty of rich sauces...Having been fresh off of training Caspar’s appetite was already peaked which meant there’d be no way he wouldn’t consume the whole plate and with it, the entirety of the concoctions Sylvain had put together just so that he could fatten him up and fuck him. “Thanks I guess? I learned to cook some awhile ago from Ashe for when I was in a pinch.” he laughed back playfully. Without another word Caspar had already begun his descent into madness, ravaging the plate like a beast and finishing a whole burger in barely 4 full bites, some juice slipping down his stuffed cheek as he chewed the last bit and he hummed of satisfaction. The concoctions were fast acting Sylvain knew, but he didn’t think it would be as immediate as just that when Caspar’s stomach let out a low sounding growl. “Boy I really am hungrier than I thought today! I hope you have seconds buddy!” Sylvain smiled devilishly and crossed his legs to try and hold down his boner. “Oh don’t worry, I made sure to prepare extra incase anyone else decided to join, but since it’s just the two of us, feel free to help yourself.” Sylvain then watched in awe as Caspar plowed through his meal, letting out a hefty belch here and there, patting his stomach, at one point loosening his belt by the time he reached the end of his first plate.

He’d already downed a total of 2 burgers, 3 pieces of fried chicken, the serving of ribs fistfulls of fries, and, hell, Sylvain had even lost count of what he put on there for him and before he could even remember Caspar had already come back with his second plate, already fuller than his first one was! Sylvain’s face began to heat up and he was feeling nervous. Watching Caspar’s display of gluttony was a much bigger turn on than he thought it’d be, Sylvain could barely even touch his own plate and he lustfully watched Caspar repeatedly and mechanically throw food into his mouth and barely even chew it before swallowing it down to shove the next fistful in, he hadn’t even touched his fork or knife since this second plate, too focused on getting as much as he could into himself at once as possible.

Caspar then let out another powerful burp. “Hhn wow Sylvain, you really do make a good cook...I feel stuffed.” he let his hefty mug of root beer down on the table with a thunk, his stomach had puffed out a considerable amount, stuffed, but not bloated, the magic already kicking in and helping to convert the food to fat immediately. His shirt strained against his noticeable pot belly, pectorals bloated and hardened nipples showing through. Before Sylvain could say anything Caspar began to squeeze the breasts of his newly fattened self and blushed when he had let out a moan of his own thumb passing over his nipple. Even though he had stopped eating Caspar’s body began to fill out just a bit more, a second chin appearing under him and  his stomach now being squeezed on both sides of his chair and his shirt sliding up almost halfway his belly which looked like two scoops of icecream from the way it rolled over itself on his now grown belly button. Attempting to stand up the chair lifted with him and he had to force it down with a wince, his thighs and ass had filled out too and his pants were noticeably far too tight for him to walk straightly either, it was then that Sylvain noticed his impressive boner held up against him from his tight clothes.

“Sylvain…” Caspar mumbled in a sensual tone trying to cover himself in shame, arm over his man boobs, and another reaching to hide his dick, which didn’t do much for how his gut pushed his arm mostly out of reach. “I… I need you. I n-need you to help me. S-sylvain please. I need to be fucked right now.” as he finished he bucked his hips forward as if he was hardly in control of himself at this point.

Sylvain was red, he’d never seen someone so desperate for sex before, not Ashe and not even himself had ever looked so needy. It wasn’t just that Caspar was horny and wanted to fuck, it was that he needed to, he needed to be fucked right now before he overheated himself from not being able to release. “Let’s go back to my room first then ok-” Before Sylvain could finish Caspar’s eyes widened and he shook his head defiantly. “I c-can’t. P-please just now, do me now.” he pleaded almost as if he were about to cry. “Normally I’d say yes, but, I would prefer it if you could make it to my room first... It’s just too risky here. Caspar, please listen, you can make it that far right? It won’t take any longer than a minute to walk there.”

The thought of having to wait made tears come from Caspar’s eyes, rolling down his chubby cheeks as he desperately reached for Sylvains hand, who then guided him out the door. Sylvain was right. His room was one of the closest to the dining hall, and yet by the time he locked the door behind them, Caspar had begun to pant. Sylvain reached around him as best he could and helped him remove his shirt, and then his pants. As they slid off a noticeable jiggle ran through the underside of his belly and his full cock. On Sylvain’s bed Caspar felt helpless, he was so horny he couldn’t even bring himself to try and work himself. Sylvain thankfully, was quick to act, and immediately began to finger Caspar’s big fat ass as he gave head to his cock. The feeling of finally having Caspar’s body to him sent Sylvain into ecstasy, his dick filling his mouth with its length, and Caspar’s noises making him smile. Sylvain let Caspar’s dick slide sloppily out of his mouth, tickling the side of his cheek with a string of saliva stretching down from it.

Beginning to pull his fingers out of his hole, Sylvain stood up and turned away from Caspar. “Sylvain what are doing don’t leave me please k-keep going” Caspar barely finishing his words Sylvain had pressed his ass up against Caspar’s dick, and let it slide in. When it did Caspar left out a large mone and reached forward around Sylvain, hands barely reaching from his large belly, just barely making it to Sylvain’s sides. Caspar immediately starting bucking his hips into Sylvain who didn’t even have a chance to take action, all he could do was stand there as Caspar rocked against him. The feeling of his large belly pressing up against his ass and back, squeezing his cheeks as his dick worked his hole, tending his prostate nearly sent Sylvain over immediately, but he didn’t want it to end yet. He tried to stay composed but between the feeling of Caspar being inside him, Caspar, who he had made grow, and plead him to fuck him, was too much, and when Caspar had released his warm seed inside of him, feeling it fill him up, slightly seep through his stuffed hole it was too much. Sylvain closed his eyes and felt his cum rocket out of him in a long and full chunk, getting it all over the floor, and it pooling near his feet. The two of them, quicky feel asleep in bed together then later, wiped from the high of sex.

-----

The sun beginning to set by now, Sylvain woke up to Caspar shaking the bed, he was working his cock and his heavy weight made the bed rock like a boat. Light peering in from the windows Sylvain squinted. “Sylvain I need more. Sylvain I need more of you right now. I need you in me.” Caspar begged again, but instead of sounding needy, this time it sounded more like a demand, his tone huskier and longing. Sylvain could definitely go for more by now, and he didn’t waste any time to getting into position. Putting his dick into Caspar’s ass he moaned at how soft and squishy it felt. Reaching around the top of his torso he squeezed his hefty breasts. The speed of Sylvain’s dick working his ass was faster and more intense than what happened before, Sylvain was more confident in giving anal and his rocketing movements made Caspar feel bliss. His fat jiggling as the two of them shaked, feeling his body jiggle against itself as it did Caspar felt immensely satisfied. His size and weight were much greater than before, and it made him feel strong and fulfilled, being fucked like this made him feel like he’d won an award. “Sylvain you’re doing so good. G-god. Thank you.” Sylvain said nothing except a shaky moan, cumming inside of Caspar, and it spreading all over between the two of them, Caspar turned and lapped it up hungrily like a Kitten to a dish of milk, except it was sloppy like a dog at the same time. “I really wanted you to taste more of me you know.” Caspar said, guiding Sylvain down to his unfinished dick. Taking it into his mouth again, it didn’t take long for Caspar to release his semen all over him, it flooded out of his mouth despite swallowing a large deal of it and it made Sylvain feel full inside. And then again, the two sleepily dozed off beside each other.

[fattlestacks]

Caspar September 2020

A chubby Caspar gift for @verzisphere I can't make the West Coast stop being on fire, but I hope this boy helps a little. 😅 

[bunnys-bunnies]

My chubbiest rabbit, Caspar, compared to my tiniest rabbit, Artemis. (Excluding the Dwarves for obvious reasons). I love this comparison so much. 7 March 2017