#but the thought of eating more does now nauseate me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 7 months ago

Text

playing house

pairing: stepdad! leon x reader

cw: stepcest, dd/lg, breeding kink, p in v, oral sex, lots of talk about reader's dead mother (including during sex)

a/n: some of these sentences pained me to type

wc: 5.1k

Someone had to be the strict parent, so your mother took on that role. After your deadbeat dad fucked off for good, she got a new man to be the fun parent – the actual fun parent, not the irresponsible parent like her ex-husband was.

He was a father figure to you, but you generally stuck to calling him “Leon”. “Dad” just left a bad taste in your mouth because you associated it with your real father. Despite being a little stern, your mom was a great woman. She had tons of friends who loved her, she raised you well, etc. All of this you said in your eulogy to her.

Leon tried to hold himself together for you but you could see him shed a few tears from the pews while you spoke. The days since your mom had passed were exhausting, and you just wanted it to be over. Unfortunately, one of your mom’s friends, Kate, insisted on throwing your mom an “End of Life Celebration”, a more jovial time because that’s what she would’ve wanted. You didn’t doubt that she would’ve wanted you to all drink champagne and eat cake, but she sure as hell wouldn’t have liked the way the neighborhood mom’s were shamelessly flirting with her husband.

It was disgusting. The man was widowed only a week ago, he was still wearing his wedding band. He looked nice in his black suit, but that didn’t make it acceptable for those grown women to grope him. For an intelligent man, Leon could be oblivious in these situations, especially when he’s tipsy. You, on the other hand, are perceptive and sober.

You aren’t pulling some sort of stunt when you go to talk to Leon and end up crying, you really are sad. Duh. Your mom just fucking died.

“Do you wanna go home, sweetheart?” He asks, placing a comforting hand on your back.

“Yeah,” you sniffle.

“Okay,” he whispers to you with a gentle smile. Then, he turns to the gaggle of women surrounding him and says, “We’re about ready to take off. Thank you for having us.” He’s so charming he could tell them all to go fuck themselves on his way out. They would go fuck themselves. They will go fuck themselves to the thought of him with their overpriced dildos while their husbands snore on the couch, none the wiser.

“Are you sure, hon?” Kate asks, caressing Leon’s shoulder. Even he thinks she’s getting a little too handsy.

“It’s getting late, and I think we need to get some sleep after such a long day.”

“Oh, of course,” she says with well-acted sympathy. She pulls Leon in for a hug and says, “Let me know if you need anything. I know it’s hard right now.”

With the way she’s pressing her tits up against him, it’s about to get hard if he doesn’t leave now.

“Will do,” he says, practically pushing her off of him.

You’ve wandered off a bit, feeling nauseated by Kate’s perfume. Leon comes over to you and grabs your hand, escorting you out of Kate’s house.

The moment he gets into the car, Leon sighs.

“Thank you for taking me home,” you say.

“No, thank you for getting me out of there before Kate got her hands on me, or, more than she already did.” He blushes, more embarrassed than flustered.

“Yeah, she was acting really weird, almost like she was coming onto you.”

Yeah, she was, and you’re not stupid, but you’re going to ease into the accusation.

“I know,” he laughs to avoid the awkwardness. “She was touching my thigh like this.” He rubs your thigh, not intending anything by it other than demonstration, but his touch makes you feel something new. Uh-oh. You begin to understand his charm.

“Sorry, sweet pea,” Leon says, noticing your discomfort.

“It’s okay,” you laugh it off. “I can’t believe she was so obvious.”

“Yeah, she was about this close to touching my dick.” Leon holds up his fingers to explain how close “this close” was.

You laugh, and so does he, but not without, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that word around you.”

“Dick? I’m not a child. You’re allowed to say bad words, as long as mom doesn’t pull a Jesus stunt and come back to life.”

Your joke makes Leon laugh, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile since your mom passed. “You have her sense of humor,” he says.

When you get home, you both pass out pretty quickly. It was a long day. You wake up in the middle of the night, unable to push away the grief. You cry in bed until you’re dehydrated at which point you go into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, not bothering to stop crying because you assume Leon is upstairs and won’t hear you.

But he’s asleep on the couch – or he was asleep until you woke him up.

“Oh, honey,” he says, “I hate seeing you cry.”

“Sorry… I can’t help it.”

“I know, but is there anything I can do to make you feel better? I know you’d probably rather confide in your mama, but you’re welcome to come sit with me and talk.”

You nod and walk over to the couch, sitting closer than you normally would. It’s not abnormal considering the circumstances. He rubs your back and softly hushes you while you cry.

“Mom usually hugs me,” you say through tears.

He nods and holds his arms open for you. His heart beat and steady breathing helps, just like mom’s did. But his arms are even bigger and warmer. “You’re good at this, you know?” you say eventually.

“I’m glad I can help.”

“Dad?” you ask.

Leon doesn’t mention the name you called him. “Yeah?”

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“Not used to sleeping alone, I guess. I should be since I go away on missions and I sleep alone then, but it feels weird being in that bed without your mother next to me.”

“Oh.”

“So, the couch kills my back, but I can’t seem to fall asleep up there.”

“I bet Kate would’ve let you sleep in her bed.”

“Ugh. I’d rather sleep outside.”

You both laugh while you gather up the courage to offer, “you can sleep in my bed if you want. It’s a queen size, so it would fit both of us.”

“Aw thank you, sweet pea, but I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Dad, it’s no big deal. I don’t want you to have to sleep out here.”

Leon ends up following you to your room, and as expected, you do both fit in your bed.

“Mom usually hugs me until I fall asleep when I’m sad.”

You’re not lying. She does. Or at least, she did.

“Okay,” he agrees even though he feels a bit weird about cuddling with you. But you’ve done him a favor, he’ll do you one too.

You turn to him and curl up in his arms. Eventually when he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to your forehead. You are almost asleep, but you register the kiss. In your sleepy haze, you grab his cheeks and pull him in for a real kiss. To both of your surprise, he takes it in stride. He kisses you softly, but truly. But before your tongues can touch, he pulls back.

“Baby girl, I don’t think this is right.”

“I’m sorry.” You begin to cry again. You can’t help it. You’re humiliated at your own actions. You’re taking advantage of a grieving man, or so you think.

“No, honey, it’s no big deal. We can just forget about it and everything will go back to normal.”

“No, I’m no better than Kate or any of those other sluts that are supposed to be mom’s friends.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You are nothing like them. You were not doing anything wrong. You were just looking for comfort, and that’s okay.”

“I thought you said it was wrong?”

“It would be wrong for us to do anything more than that, and it seemed like things were going in that direction.”

“What if we just kissed, and didn’t do anything else?”

He sighs, trying to find something to justify doing this other than his attraction to you.

“I don’t know… I know I’m not your dad, but I’m still your step-dad, so it’s not right.”

“Didn’t that one guy marry his step daughter?”

“I don’t think he’s a role model, sweet pea.”

“What if we kissed, and didn’t do anything else, and then didn’t tell anyone?”

“Are you sure that’s something you’d want? I don’t want to come onto you in a moment of weakness.”

“I want it. Promise.”

“Okay,” he says and then leans in. This time your tongues do meet and Leon kisses you like he means it. While you’re making out, Leon’s hands run down your body cautiously, making sure not to touch any inappropriate spots. You both abide by the “nothing more than kissing rule”.

You sleep well, and so does Leon. That’s why you end up in the same position the next night, kissing and all. This time you feel his erection pressing up against your thigh. He pulls back and tries to hide it, but you both know he’s been caught.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you say. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“It doesn’t? Because I promise it’s just- it’s something that happens sometimes.”

“I know how it works, dad. I’m an adult. It’s not the first time I’ve seen one.”

He looks at you wide-eyed.

“What? Did you think I was a virgin?”

“I haven’t been thinking about your virginity much either way.”

“But you’re thinking about me right now, right? Or are you thinking about someone else?”

“It’s not about you, don’t worry. It’s just a natural reaction.”

“Am I not good enough?”

“No, no, god no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t want to make you feel weird.”

“So you lied and said no, when the answer is yes?”

“Listen, I’m sorry. I don’t want to feel this way, and like I said last night, I don’t want to take advantage of you. So, we should probably stop here.”

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. I’ve had feelings for you for a while.”

“For how long?”

“A long time. But, I knew it was wrong, and I’ve always felt bad, and I’m sorry I kissed you. I feel like I’m the one who’s taking advantage of you.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me. I’m old enough to make my own choices.”

“The only thing is that... I kinda wanna do more, more than just kissing.”

“Are you sure about that, honey? Because I don’t think we should.”

“Like I said, you’re not my real dad, and it’s not even like I call you ‘dad’ or ‘daddy’.” You notice that his dick twitches at the word ‘daddy’. “… unless you’d like me to call you ‘daddy’.”

Leon’s face is flushed. It’s an admission in and of itself.

“It’s okay if you want me to call you that. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Is that something you’re into?”

“I know it’s weird, but yeah, yeah I am. Can I- can I call you ‘daddy’?”

“If that’s what you want. But, don’t expect this to go away.” He points towards his hard-on.

“I could help you with it, daddy, if you’d like that.”

His eyes practically glass over, dazed like he’s being taken over by a parasite. It’s different now than ‘04. Very different.

“How? Because I really don’t want to go all the way with you… not tonight.” Not tonight, he says, because it’s the most he can promise you.

“I know how to do other things.”

“Like what?” Leon knows that there are other ways to get off than penetration, but he doesn’t how many of those ways you have experience with.

“Can I show you?”

He sighs and pulls out his cock – rock-hard and leaking from the tip. You take in the sight of what you’ve just been presented with before looking back up at Leon with pleading eyes. He nods, giving you permission. Even though you’ve fantasized about this moment for years now, you struggle to keep your hand from trembling when you swipe your thumb over the head. You have to be good enough for him. Or else you’re just one of those other sluts. It takes Leon a minute to register your nerves because his dick twitches when your hand makes contact with it.

You pump his length slowly while your lips meet his in a passionate kiss. With your chest against his, he can feel your rapid heart rate, he knows you’re nervous.

“Do you want me to help you?” he whispers into your mouth, but doesn’t wait for your answer. Instead he wraps his bigger hand around yours, helping you stroke him the way he likes best.

“There you go,” he says like the proud father he is. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

“Daddy, can I use my mouth too?”

“You can do whatever you want, baby girl.”

You dip your head down and lick a stripe from the base to the tip, then begin taking him in your mouth one inch at a time until you start to choke. While the sight of your watery eyes looking up at him is arousing, Leon’s paternal instincts kick in and he needs to protect your poor throat. He lifts you up gently, telling you, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I wanna do a good job. I wanna be good for you, daddy.”

“You are, kiddo. You’re doing great for daddy.”

“But I wanna be able to take it all.”

“It’s okay,” he says, stroking your hair. “You’re just a sweet little thing, huh? You haven’t got enough practice yet. I’ll teach you how, baby.”

While he speaks you take the opportunity to suckle at the tip.

“Just like that, baby. Such a good girl.”

Good girl. It ignites something inside you. No, that fire was already lit, he’s just pouring gasoline into the flames.

You move one hand up and down his shaft while your mouth tends to the head until he cums in your mouth, without warning. Sticky white drips from the corners of your lips and though you look adorable, Leon apologizes. “Sorry, kiddo. Got caught up and forgot to warn you.”

“Sorry I couldn’t do better for you.”

“Hey, look at me.” He places his hand on the back of your head, making you meet his eyes. “I mean it when I say you’re a good girl. I’d be concerned if you could take it down your throat like it’s nothing. You’re just inexperienced, and that can be a good thing.”

It can be when you’re his little girl.

Leon returns to kissing you, his hand traveling down between your thighs, making you gasp into his mouth. You’re embarrassed at how wet you are when his fingers swipe along the gusset of your panties.

“Can I touch you, sweet pea?”

“Yes, daddy. Want it so bad.”

“I can tell,” he says, slipping his fingers under the fabric, finally making contact with your skin. “Were you feeling like this all night?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice trembling already, trying desperately not to moan. You don’t want to embarrass yourself further.

“I’m proud of you for waiting. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” You struggle with words while his fingers tease your slit, eventually dipping one inside, pumping in and out slowly while his thumb rubs circles around your clit.

“Can I take these off, baby? Wanna see those pretty princess parts.”

You nod, clinging to the sheets in an effort to keep your hands off Leon lest you interrupt his work.

He marvels at the sight of your dripping core. “Yesterday you were cryin’ from up there, but it looks like you’re cryin’ for me down here now, huh?”

You want to cry after he calls you out for being so needy. You worry it seems pathetic. When you do, Leon hears it. He’s been paying attention to every sound you make, most of them threatening to make his dick get hard again.

“I don’t wanna see tears, baby.” He kisses your cheeks in an effort to wipe them away. “I want you to feel good.”

“I just- I’m sorry for being so… so-”

“Wet?”

You nod.

“Why would you be sorry?” Leon would laugh at the absurd statement if you weren’t crying. “Your princess parts look so pretty when they’re all wet like this.”

Your face flushes, and he whispers in your ear, “But I bet they taste even better.”

“You- you wanna taste it?”

“You have no idea how badly I wanna taste you, baby.”

He’s already spreading your thighs with his hands, so he can bury his face between them. His fingers never cease touching you, getting you ready for this moment. Leon gently kisses your clit and you writhe, moaning louder than ever, half in anticipation of Leon truly going down on you. He doesn’t get to spend much time savoring you, though, because the moment his tongue flicks over your clit, you cum. Leon, surprised yet aroused, takes it in stride, gently sucking on your clit – clearly you’re sensitive. He licks up every drop of your sweet arousal, not coming up for breath until you’re almost in tears from overstimulation.

He can see the apology on your lips. “Daddy’s so proud of you. You did so good for me.”

The daddy persona swiftly slithers its way into your day-to-day. It was supposed to be something that stayed in the bedroom, you thought. But daddy’s proud of you outside the bedroom too, and you’re his good girl all day long. He’s gotta remind you, especially these days when you seem more insecure than usual.

In the process of sorting through your mom’s things, you end up finding things from your childhood – toys, art supplies, even some old clothes. Leon catches you setting up your old dollhouse.

“Oh hey, kiddo,” he says, startling you. “Brought that old thing back out, huh?”

“Yeah, I know mom said I was too old to play with dolls but I really loved setting the house with all the little pieces of furniture.”

“I think your mom was just worried about you fitting in, that’s all. And, hey, if you want to refurbish that, you know, do some interior decorating, we could buy some home accessories.”

“Really?” You beam at his offer.

“I’ll do pretty much anything to see that smile of yours.”

“Thank you, daddy.” You almost knock him over when you rush to hug him. He gives you a peck on the cheek – you’re the one who turns it into another make-out session. It doesn’t escape you that you can see his dick stiffening almost instantly.

But, it isn’t enough. You need to have him, fully, deeply. So, when you’re lying in bed next to him, you propose the idea. Things are already hot and heavy so you assume he’ll be easier to convince.

“I want you inside me,” you say bluntly.

“Uh… I don’t know if that’s a good idea, honey.”

“What’s the difference between sex and what we’ve been doing?”

Morally, you’re probably right. You’ve already crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed. The difference between sucking your stepdad off and having sex with him is minuscule.

There’s only one new concern. “Baby, I could get you pregnant.”

It’s a warning, not an offer, but your corrupted brain hears otherwise. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

Leon is stunned. He’d expected a response along the lines of “Just pull out” or “I’m on the pill”, or if you had any sense in you, “You’re right, daddy. We shouldn’t do that.” As it turns out, you like the sound of Leon impregnating you.

He thinks of ways to back out of this situation before it’s too late, but instead, he asks a question – motivated by the fact that he, too, is turned on by the idea.

“What exactly do you mean by that? Do you actually want to try to conceive a child? Or is it a sort of… kink for you?” His eyes flicker with excitement when he brings up the possibility of this being a kink – a mutual kink.

“Just wanna play pretend with you, daddy. You remember when I wanted to play house, and I was mommy and you were daddy? We didn’t have a baby.”

“So, you’re suggesting that, instead of buying a baby doll, we should have our own real baby?” Leon’s playing your game now – house, but with an added twist: the realism of mommy and daddy having sex.

“Yeah, I want your baby, daddy.”

“I’ve changed my mind, sweet pea. I think it’s a good idea. Since I’m more experienced at playing house, I should teach you how to have a healthy marriage.”

Your grin turns from dopey to mischievous when you say, “Daddy, I’ve never done it before, so I need you to teach me.”

Leon is almost certain that’s false, but goddamn if it’s not sexy. So, he plays along.

“Oh, baby, of course you haven’t. You’re just a sweet little thing, aren’t you?”

Leon starts to reconsider when he finally gets his cock inside your pussy. It’s tight, really tight.

“Daddy, is it gonna fit?”

I sure hope so, he thinks.

“Yeah, we’ll make it work.” Leon is panting at the way you’re squeezing around him.

“Are you nervous, honey? Is that part of it?”

You nod shyly, and not in the intentional ingenue way. It’s real.

“How ‘bout we hold hands then? Daddy wants to make sure you feel safe.”

So, he holds your hands, letting you grip them tight as he feeds himself to you slowly. Your eyes are squeezed shut until he prompts you to open them, “Look at you, baby. You’re taking daddy’s cock so well.”

You’ve never felt more full. Leon’s thrusts are shallow, never fully pulling out. He needs to make sure he cums inside you.

He’s worried he’s going to cum too soon, but luckily you say something that takes him by complete surprise and his mind is no longer being held captive by your velvety walls.

“Daddy, did you used to do this with mom a lot?”

Normally, he would stop, leave the room, and rethink his existence, but he’s an addict getting his fix right now, so he tells you the truth. “Uh, yeah, in the beginning, but not so much towards the end…” The end of her life. She fucking died. He can’t believe he’s talking about his wife who’s buried six feet under while he’s buried inside his step-daughter’s cunt.

“Is it as good as when you did it with mom?” You’ve always been jealous of your mom. She was sweet, funny, drop-dead gorgeous.

“Even better, baby. I loved your mom, but your pretty princess cunt is no match for anyone else’s.”

As absolutely absurd as that sentence should be, the sentiment – you being the best Leon’s ever had makes you wetter. Leon fucks you faster just to hear the schlick schlick schlick sound that accompanies every thrust.

“Daddy’s gonna cum soon,” he warns, causing you to clamp down around him, your body insisting that he cums inside of you – that he breeds you.

“Please, daddy.” You can only get out two words before you gush around him, taking him by surprise.

“Fuck yes, baby. Daddy’s so proud of you,” he says, slowing his thrusts to guide you through your orgasm. You cling to him, sobbing when you come down from your high.

“Do you need daddy to stop?” Leon hates to see you cry.

“No,” you whine, scratching down his back like punishment for even suggesting such a thing. “Want a baby, daddy.”

“You’re such a good girl. Of course daddy’s gonna put a baby in you in you.”

“Need it, daddy.”

“You need daddy to get you pregnant, huh?” Leon’s teetering on the edge.

He buries himself to the hilt, pressing his tip right against your cervix before he spills his seed inside you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he says. “Your cute little kiddo cunt’s takin’ it so well. Not gonna have anything left in me if you squeeze me like that.”

Neither of you quite register what he says until you wake up from your post-orgasm nap, and even then, neither of you mention it. You realize that you can’t decide whether you want to have Leon’s baby or be Leon’s baby. You learn to find a sort of middle ground.

Leon takes you out and parades you around as his daughter in front of all the neighborhood moms, but fucks you like you’re his girlfriend when you get home. Especially after he’s had a bit to drink. Despite the taste of alcohol on his breath, you love when he’s a little tipsy. It makes him even more affectionate. When you drive him home, he’s already kissing your neck and running his hand along your thigh, trying to inch his way up your skirt.

You deposit your car keys on the counter and his hands encircle your waist from behind. He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “you wanna take this upstairs?”

You swiftly turn around and press your palm to the bulge in his pants. “Daddy, I thought I was supposed to be the needy one.”

“Oh, so daddy’s not allowed to want his baby? I bet you want me too.” He slips his hand under your dress to feel the damp fabric of your panties.

“Was daddy right?” Leon’s a natural sweet-talker, but when he’s buzzed, his words come out candy-coated – despite his breath having been tainted by whiskey.

You nod shyly and grab his hand so he can lead you to the bedroom – the one you now share. You had a single glass of white wine hours ago, so your behavior can’t be attributed to drunkenness. You always get fuzzy in the head when Leon’s affection turns into seduction.

You walk hand-in-hand like a parent helping a child cross the street though it’s unclear who is the adult in the situation. You make it to the upstairs hallway before Leon pushes you up against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head so you can’t escape his fervent kisses. He lets go of your arms so he can thread his fingers through your hair. You’ve only made it halfway to the bedroom and it’s already sloppy tongue-and-teeth-filled.

Leon lifts your shirt over your head and tosses it on the floor, unbuttoning his own with an urgency you’ve yet to see from him. The only way you can get a word in between kisses is by pushing him away from you. The face he gives you isn’t concern or offense, but a juvenile disappointment. You wonder if this is what you look like when you pout.

"Slow down," you say when you finally break free, "I’m not sure we should do this.”

“What? Fuck? You don’t have to dance around the word.”

“Yeah.”

“Why not? I thought you were into this.”

“It’s not that…” you sigh. “You’re drunk, Leon.”

“I’m a little buzzed, I’ll admit, but I’m not drunk.”

“Can we just wait until you’ve sobered up a little?”

“Yeah,” he says reluctantly. “What do you wanna do until then?”

“We can just kiss,” you lie, knowing kissing always turns into more between you and Leon.

You don’t let him fuck you. Instead, you sit atop him naked, rolling your hips slowly back and forth, rubbing your soaking cunt along his cock. You watch as the head drools precum onto his stomach. He’d be embarrassed if your slick wasn’t already coating his length. At the sight, you move faster, considering it a challenge to get him to cum like this.

He reaches for your hips in an effort to take control of the situation but you swat his hands away. You may be his baby, but he’s your daddy. You own him as much as he owns you.

He looks dazed despite the alcohol wearing off. He’s pussydrunk now.

“Daddy,” you say, “Am I better than mom?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles. You could’ve said anything and you would’ve received the same response. You’re less a siren and more an angel. Your words mean nothing - it’s your gorgeous voice that pierces his body and drags out his soul. He bucks his hips, chasing his high, but you stop him.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

“Say it like you mean it.” Your voice isn’t stern, it quivers. You’re begging him. You need him to mean it.

“I do mean it. I love you, baby, more than anything.” While you’re overcome with uncertainty - your faith in Leon’s words ebbs and flows - Leon sees the opening, and he takes the risk of cupping your cheeks and bringing you into a kiss.

He whispers into your mouth. “I love you.”

You don’t respond verbally. You kiss him harder and quicken the movements of your hips. He knows what it means. I love you, too – and, I’ll let you cum.

So, he does. Thick white ropes paint Leon’s chest. While his mind is still foggy, and unconcerned about the mess, he grabs your hips and coaxes you to bring them closer to his face. With one thigh on each side of his head, he meets your eyes, and says, “I’m gonna make you cum like this” before burying his face in your pussy.

Leon’s tongue, especially like this, when he’s lost all inhibitions, leaves you weak in the knees. You’re trembling and Leon’s iron grip on your thighs is your only anchor. The word ‘daddy’ is the only comprehensible thing that leaves your mouth.

Leon’s mumbles are muffled by your cunt, but you know that he’s telling you how good you taste and how much he loves it when you sit on his face. He’s predictable.

He pulls back for a moment, just enough to make his words coherent. “Daddy loves you so much, baby,” he coos. He knows it’s the one thing that makes you unravel. You tug on his hair and bring him back to your core, and he immediately latches onto your clit. You hear his words echo in your mind and it takes you over the edge. You tell him you love him too, loudly and equally true.

You disregard the fact that Leon is still sticky and in dire need of a shower, and you flop down on top of him, passing out in your mutual release. You sleep blissfully in the mess you’ve made.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader

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johnbrand · 3 months ago

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Pump and Jump

“Devin, what are you doing here?”

I had not expected anyone to be in my apartment when I got home from work, least of all my sister’s muscular douchebag of a boyfriend. In public, he was always popular to be around. Sociable and knowing exactly what to say and how to act, perfectly aligned with modern male beauty standards and a strong, commanding personality. Everyone treated him like a king, yet I was the one he proceeded to yank around like a subject. Because I was not at the same level of traditional masculinity, I had immediately been deemed as inferior.

“Your twat sister and I had a fight,” Devin replied, the slur came out naturally.

“How did you even get in?” I persisted. “I lock my doors.”

Unbothered, Devin continued scrolling on his phone. “I took your sister’s key.”

I was dumbfounded at Devin’s actions, but was too tired to fully deal with them. I tossed my backpack to the side and moved to the kitchen, my starchy suit itching against my skin with every step. But changing clothes were going to be dealt with after I fixed up something to eat.

“As long as you're in there, why don't you grab me a drink?” Devin’s voice was loud and clear. “A snack would be great too, I could polish off a bag of chips.”

I gulp, pausing for a moment. Instead of preparing anything for myself, I reenter the living room with an ice-cold beer and a few eating options. Devin does not react to my actions at all, simply opening the can and then munching on the first bag of snacks. I could already smell his natural musk, a mix of pungent body odor loosely covered by a cheap spray-on deodorant.

Assuming Devin was satisfied, I turned back to the kitchen to finally help myself.

“Where are you going, buddy?” Devin stopped me. “How about you give me a foot massage while I eat? These puppies are sore from having to haul everything over.”

Haul everything over? I thought. Kneeling in front of the table, I turned my head to sneak a peek of my bedroom. All across the small space were Devin’s belongings; boxes and bags and scattered objects filling my once pristine sanctuary. I was furious, but the potent funk coming from Devin’s feet beside my face nauseating me to the point that making an argument seemed futile. Tentatively, I placed my fingers against the wide, meaty soles. Devin grunted softly as I began to make slow circles.

It was hard to describe, but there was something so captivating about the texture of Devin’s feet. They were soft and stiff at the same time, their flesh both malleable and muscular. I could not help but feel my mind wander as I continued to work at his feet, puzzling over just how large they were. Size 13, Size 14…could they even be Size 15? Devin’s foot funk was so sharp, so pungent, so much that before I knew it the sun had already gone down.

“Hey Devin, I think I’m gonna head to bed now,” I stated, removing my hands from his feet. Yet I could not deny the strange urge to place them back.

Devin, unphased, continued scrolling through the device in his hand. It took me a few moments to register that it was mine. I immediately commented on it. “You don’t remember?” Devin replied. “I asked for it when my phone died, and you handed it over with no argument. You even volunteered to remove the PIN so I would have access to it in the future.”

Was that true? I tried to open my phone to check, but for some reason my old password was not accepted.

“Oh yeah, I decided it would just be safer if I changed it all together,” Devin nonchalantly addressed. He stood up and stretched, his towering height and size engulfing my own and my possible protests. “Alright, I’m gonna head to bed, good night roomie.” In a mixture of shock and awe, my eyes followed as Devin proceeded to my his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

After just a few days, I quickly became accustomed to not only Devin, but in addition his needs. It was funny how the more time I spent with him, the more it felt right for him to treat me as his inferior. The apartment quickly became Devin’s, and my sole responsibility was to maintain it. Overtime, I was conditioned into faggotry, taught about the hierarchy and where I belonged in it. Which obviously–and what I would soon come to learn, rightfully–was below Devin.

In the end, Devin and my sister inevitably broke up. Eventually I learned it was because he had lied about wearing a condom. Through manipulation, and his massive cock, Devin had bred my sister thoroughly, apparent shooting straight into her womb. Being in a red state, abortion was not an option, but Devin had no plans on fathering his child. Since then, my sister had lamented about his abrupt “disappearance," having no idea he had been living with me since the initial fight. She would never know that she was just one of many women Devin had successfully “pumped and jumped” as he called it; my nephew would arrive with an abundance of half brothers and sisters.

#male tf #male transformation #faggot tf #straight submission #unintended results

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avocado-writing · 11 months ago

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omg… could we get an astarion x reader where the reader is gale’s apprentice? she’s extremely studious and focused on her learning of magic (as gale teaches her to be) and because gale took her on as a young girl she’s never had her first kiss (much less her first time) bc she’s been so focused on her academics… mwahahahahah 😈

notes: reader’s gender isn’t mentioned, but Astarion does call you “little”! (Edit; part 2)

rating: M

words: 1.8k

pairing: astarion x reader

Taglist: bg3 Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 (let me know if you want to be added!)

“We hope to see you soon!” calls the cashier from behind the desk, waving amicably as you leave with your arms laden with scrolls and books. You manage a smile over your shoulder, no hand free to return the kind gesture.

“I’m sure you will!” you reply. This is true. Gale has probably spent a small fortune at Sorcerous Sundries, and - with the amount of time he’s been spending with Tav recently - supply runs have fallen to you. Not that you particularly mind. It’s nice to get into the city and get away from your mentor and the de facto leader of your group making heart eyes at each other from across the camp. It’s wonderful that he’s found someone (gods know that he deserves it after all that Mystra business) but he doesn’t have to be so bloody nauseating about it.

You wait for a cart to pass, readjust your hold on the pile, and head across the road. You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called for a second and barrel on ahead - it’s only when you become aware of footsteps approaching that you turn.

Astarion isn’t jogging to catch you, exactly. He’s far too precious for that. But he has increased his speed to close the gap, that little smile on his face which you know can only spell trouble.

“Well, fancy running into you, my dear. Isn’t chance a fine thing?” he purrs. You raise an eyebrow.

“What, you fortuitously meeting me at the only store I ever seem to go to?”

He doesn't reply to that, instead putting a hand on his hip and cocking his head.

“It can be dangerous for a little thing like you to walk around a big city alone. Never know who might take advantage.”

He flashes his fangs with his smile, and you swear your cheeks don’t start to burn.

“I know the route back to camp perfectly well…”

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I join you then? Let me help with those books, they seem to be rather precariously perched.”

You take a moment to look him over. He’s got muscle, of course, you’ve seen him with his shirt off at camp, but you’re certain it’s all for show – you are definitely stronger than he is. Being Gale’s glorified pack mule means you have to be. But, suppressing a smile, you press half of your haul into the elf’s waiting arms and chuckle when he stumbles under the unexpected weight.

“You could suggest to your mentor that he gets into a little more light reading,” he mutters, and that makes you laugh properly. He seems pleased with himself for that. Well, more pleased with himself than he usually is, anyway - so you find yourself walking through the city streets with his company.

And it’s… nice. You’ve never been sure what to make of Astarion. He’s a bit too cunning for your usual taste in companion, but there can be no doubt that he’s competent. He travels the city streets with a familiar ease, and when he goes to turn down an alleyway mid-conversation, you almost follow him without thinking.

Almost.

“The thing is I’m sure he eats them, but – what are you doing back there? Keep up, I won’t wait for you,” he says, waiting for you. You shuffle awkwardly, and he reads your face without you having to say a word.

“Come now, I’m not going to bite you. Not unless you want me to,” there’s that damned grin again. You harrumph, knowing full well that’s exactly why you hesitated, but not wanting to show weakness in front of him. Nothing that he can use against you. You scuttle along until you make up the distance, and fall back in step.

Soon it’s just the two of you. The city noise dies down and the sound of your boots echoes in tandem with his. He has you completely alone. He could do whatever he wanted with you. You know he wouldn’t, of course, but… you’d be lying if you said the idea didn’t thrill you, just a tiny bit.

Astarion lets out a laugh.

“Your blood’s started pumping faster. Tell me, little mage, is something making your heart pound?”

Oh, right. Vampire. The bastard is uncannily attuned to these things.

“No!” you say, quickly, but there’s not much fire behind it, no real sincerity. His lip quirks.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you know. It’s alright to feel desire. Gale doesn’t seem to take very good care of you, after all…”

That makes you stick your tongue out and gag. You totally ignore the first part of that sentence and spit:

“Eurgh, Gale? Absolutely not! He’s like my brother. We’ve known each other since… well, for as long as I can remember, honestly,” you say. And it’s true. You love him, of course, but not like that. Maybe you’re a bit jealous of Tav but only because they’re taking up so much of his time. You’re desperate to have another magic lesson. It feels like it’s been ages since he’s taught you anything, and you’ve been somewhat demoted to his personal assistant rather than his student. You can’t be too upset, though. He does have that tadpole in his head, so things are probably a lot more pressing to him than teaching you how to properly refine your Fireball spell.

Astarion sees how introspective you’ve become. You have a habit of chewing on your lip when you’re lost in thought, and he’s become quite partial to it. It’s… sweet. Secretly he’s become quite partial to you. You’re endearing, bullheadedly stubborn, but sincere and enthusiastic. A bright spark in a dark world and he is drawn to you, whether he wants to be or not.

He’s harbouring something for you, and doesn’t quite want to admit what that might be. So he teases.

“You really do take up all of your time with studying, don’t you?”

You shrug as much as you can beneath your armful of books.

“Wouldn’t you, if you had the best tutor around? Wouldn’t you want to learn every single thing you possibly could?”

“All that time squirrelled away over a spell book. I wonder if you’ve ever even been kissed.”

You stop dead. Ah, he thinks. Got you.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you snap, but you know your voice wobbles a little. A bit of a sore spot if you’re honest. Seeing Gale and Tav has made you realise that, actually, maybe there is something you long for. Something more.

“Ahh, so you haven’t. There’s no shame in that, little mage.”

Your cheeks are burning. You can’t look him in the eye. Thank the gods the two of you are alone, you wouldn’t want anyone to see you so flabbergasted.

“I’m… you’re…” you struggle to find words to adequately express how you feel. Furious. Embarrassed? A whole tide of things all at once, rooting you to the ground.

He walks closer. If he was living, you’d be able to feel the heat coming off of him. He puts his pile of books on the top of a part-built wall, then takes yours to do the same. You don’t resist.

“Would you like to be kissed?”

You manage to drag your eyes up from the ground to meet his gaze, searching it for any hint of insincerity. He is teasing you, a bit, but… his eyes are surprisingly soft.

He means it.

And before you can think it over, you nod.

His lips are soft. Far softer than you expected for a vampire. His kiss gently presses your mouth open, allowing for a lithe and curious swipe of his tongue. You eagerly accept it, voice catching in your throat a little in a half-rendered moan.

He tastes like mint. It’s fresh. It’s sweet.

You want more.

Carefully you put a hand on either one of his biceps, a gentle test of the muscle there. It might be only for show, but it’s firm enough for you to enjoy how it feels in your grip. You sense him smile against your mouth and deepen the kiss, running his fingers up the length of your arm until he can cup your face; grip the back of your head.

When he walks you back to press up against the alleyway wall, you trust him; and when he hooks your collar down with a single long finger, exposing your neck, that half-moan comes back with full force.

“That’s it,” he sighs, feather-light, “let me hear you, you sweet thing.”

His mouth leaves yours in order to kiss a long line down your jugular. His teeth ghost the skin there, but he never threatens to bite.

Not unless you want me to.

You find yourself trusting him absolutely. His tongue flicks against your pulse and you thrust your hips forward inadvertently. It’s an impulse. An instinct. But it has an impact, and you hear Astarion catch his breath just a bit.

“Where have you been hiding all this?” he asks, gravel filling his voice as you thread your fingers into his hair.

“Maybe you never gave me a reason to show it to you.”

He seems to like that answer, so when he slips his leg between yours, presses his thigh up to your sex… gods, you start to rock against him without a second thought.

It’s good. It feels good. Good in a way only your own hands have ever made you feel, late at night, beneath your bedroll with fucking Astarion, Astarion, Astarion running through your head.

“Look at you. All desperate for me. What do you want me to do, little mage? Where do you want me to touch?”

You take his hand and guide it down your body, yes gods yes to the apex of your legs, and —

Greetings! Hope I’m not catching you at a bad moment, but need those books at camp ASAP. Do let me know when you’ll be back!

Gale’s Sending is like a cold bucket of ice through your body, and you freeze under Astarion’s ministrations. The moment is utterly shattered. A hand on his chest moves him away and he acquiesces, confused but not pushing back.

“Hello Gale,” you sigh out loud, letting the elf know the reason for the interruption. “Will be back as soon as possible. Not too far from the camp now. Sorry for the delay. Got a little… held up.”

And then you’re just standing there. In an alley. With Astarion. And you feel very silly all of a sudden, very small. Once again your eyes drop to the floor and you start grabbing the books, quickly, anything to distract you from how humiliated you feel. You’re not sure if it’s because you let yourself give into him so easily or if it’s because you didn’t want him to stop — and you’re a bit terrified at how far you’d have let him go.

“I’ll see you at camp,” you manage to stutter out, before practically running away.

Astarion watches you go. Your departure stings.

#astarion x you #astarion x reader #Astarion x tav #Request #bg3 fic

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justagalwhowrites · 3 months ago

Text

Halcyon - Ch. 16: You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do

You and Joel look for Anna and find a new balance in your relationship. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 15, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Discussion of drug use and addiction. Mention of parent death Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You’re sure this is a good idea?”

You kept your voice low, watching as Joel swayed slowly with Ellie cradled in his arms.

“She’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “C’mon. Would I do anything that would put this sweet little thing in harm’s way?”

You sighed, Joel already ignoring you in favor of your niece. Not that you could blame him. In the two months that you’d been basically living with Joel, Ellie had blossomed. She still had her crying jags and was far from an easy baby - from what you could tell, anyway. But she was eating steadily now that you’d found a formula that didn’t upset her stomach so much and sleeping for three hours at a time overnight. She’d gone from being underweight to having charming rolls of baby fat on her arms and legs and she had this tendency to watch whoever was holding her with an intensity that felt uncommon for a baby. You were sure you were biased but you were certain that she was the smartest baby you’d ever seen. Her gaze was keen as she took everything in, her eyes shifting to a deep, rich chocolate brown and it was hard to not just look at her all the time.

“I’d never let anything happen to you, would I?” Joel said to Ellie, his voice high pitched and lilting. “No I wouldn’t! Uncle Joel loves you so much, yes he does!”

You smiled a little, letting yourself enjoy the sight of your best friend holding the baby who had become the most important person in the world before looking back in the direction of the kitchen where you knew Tommy was putting a mountain of junk food into the fridge and freezer.

“Really, Goldie, it’s fine,” Joel said in his more typical baritone. “Tommy watched Sarah for me all the time when she was a baby, he’s actually great with kids, even tiny ones. She’ll be just fine for a night, I promise. We gotta do this.”

You sighed and then nodded.

“Right,” you said. “You’re right, we do.”

You held your arms out and Joel passed you Ellie before his lips brushed your temple, a motion that had become so commonplace over the last few weeks. You glanced at him quickly, eyes darting, as he pulled away from you and he flinched a little before grabbing your overnight bags and heading for the living room.

That was a commonplace occurrence, too. The flinching when he touched you in some intimate, familiar way that seemed to go beyond the bounds of your previous relationship.

You weren’t sure why he kept doing it. Kissing you, putting his hand on the small of your back when you were near, nuzzling into your hair. He always flinched some after, like these little sparks of closeness were nauseating. You had your theories as to why, of course. He’d told you little of Sarah’s mother but it sounded like she had been around for at least the early days of her daughter’s life. Maybe he was used to these tiny intimacies with a woman he was raising a child alongside, maybe the only way he was used to passing off a baby came with a gentle brush of his lips on skin. Or maybe he thought you needed it, that you were still so fragile even months after you’d shown up on his doorstep with a screaming infant and feeling like you were going to lose yourself if you weren’t careful that he needed to do things like touch you to keep you sane.

But you wished he’d just stop. It didn’t help when you knew how much he apparently loathed it, it just stung. Even tempering it with the knowledge that he apparently cared enough for you to tolerate something he so clearly didn’t enjoy because he thought it was what you needed, it hurt.

You and Joel had struck a delicate - if largely unspoken - balance since that first night. You’d all but moved in, Joel giving you two drawers and a corner of his closet, and you’d put a small bassinet in his room. The two of you took shifts overnight, switching out looking after Ellie when she stirred. Since UT’s school year ended a full month before Sarah’s did, you took over making breakfast and getting her out the door in the morning until she was on summer vacation and - now that summer break was in full swing - you watched her and you took care of Ellie while Joel was at work during the day. For all intents and purposes, you functioned like a couple. In all ways except one: you didn’t have sex again.

You should probably be thankful for that, you knew. It wasn’t like you’d ever say no to him if he’d offered. Even if it destroyed you, you’d always fold the moment he touched you like he wanted you at all. The fact that it hadn’t happened since was a blessing.

You tried to remind yourself of that when you were lying next to him at night and he didn’t touch you that way. Not that you expected him to at all, especially not with Ellie in the room but still. You wanted it. Longed for it. Ached for it, taking full advantage of what little privacy you got when in the shower or when Sarah was at a friend’s house and Ellie was down for a nap to fuck yourself hard and fast until you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning your best friend’s name.

Because it was always Joel you thought of now. He was burned into you that way. The first time you’d ever touched yourself had been to the thought of Joel, back before you knew what kissing him and taking him into yourself would be. It had been a losing battle since you’d moved back to Texas, the proximity bringing him to mind so much faster now. Once you’d started dating Stephen, it felt almost like cheating when you made yourself come to the thought of someone else, even though you’d never talked about being exclusive in any sense, let alone in the world of fantasy. Still, you came hard to the thought of your best friend and dealt with the twinge of guilt after. You’d just hoped you’d be able to set this obsession down if you became serious about someone.

The aftermath of sleeping with Joel again had proved, though, that you were going to be stuck here, feeling like this, for what seemed like forever. You cut things off with Stephen then, using Anna’s vanishing as an excuse to end things. Really, it was just because you couldn’t stomach pretending like it could go anywhere, like you wouldn’t spend your entire relationship wishing he was someone else.

Since then, you’d thrown yourself into anything - everything - else you could use to distract yourself. Beyond caring for Ellie and Sarah, you’d made some progress on your next book, shifting the story to be about a family more than a romantic relationship. You’d helped Joel with a business plan for Miller Construction, the contracting company he was hoping to start. But, most importantly, you’d gotten some idea about where Anna might be.

She was, at least, still alive. You’d been able to track down contact information for her sponsor after meeting her once and hearing Anna mention her first name a few times. Marlene had been reluctant to tell you much at all but did at least tell you that she was checking in with Anna daily. She seemed sober, apparently, and Marlene was encouraging her to seek some help but she hadn’t had any luck yet.

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she’d sighed when you called a few days earlier. “But she mentioned her ex today. I think she might be with him.”

You’d all but flown into a panic at that, fighting to hold it together as you watched Sarah swim and you held Ellie carefully while you sat on the steps in the shallow end of the pool. Josh Williams was the worst possible fucking influence your sister could have. He’s who got her into drugs in the first place, their love affair had been a whirlwind even in the best of times. What would being around him do to her now, when she was cracking under the weight of motherhood and what you were certain was postpartum depression?

“Goldie, take a breath,” Joel said that night after Sarah was in bed and he’d plied you with a margarita. “Here, gimme…” He held his hands out and you passed him the baby and he beamed at her for a moment, making her giggle, before he turned his attention back to you. “Drink more. Let’s think on it. When things went real bad for her, was she with Josh or was she on her own?”

You sighed and took a sip of margarita.

“On her own,” you said. “She definitely got into trouble with Josh but… he didn’t hurt her. Well, not like that.”

“So she’s probably safe,” Joel said gently. “That’s good, that’s the important thing right now, right?”

“Right,” you nodded and sighed again. “Jesus… So what do we do?”

“Well,” Joel shifted Ellie and she cooed at him before he cooed back as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Lemme just…” He typed something in, pressing a kiss to little Ellie’s cheek as he did. “Alright, looks like that band of his is on tour and they’ll be in Dallas in a few days. We can go, talk to him, see if he knows where she is.”

You nodded slowly, taking another drink.

“If I can talk to her, I can see if I can get her to get some help,” you said. “Or at least come home… Even if we still keep Ellie for a while, if she was at least home…”

“It’s progress, Goldie Girl,” Joel said gently, putting his phone back in his pocket and shifting Ellie again. “It’s a good thing. It is.”

You drank a few margaritas there on his couch, watching Joel with Ellie. He seemed enraptured with her, making faces to pull little gummy smiles out of her chubby features and peppering her with kisses before coaxing her to sleep on his chest.

“C’mon,” he said quietly after a while. “Let’s get this one to bed and then get you to bed. You need it.”

That night was the closest the two of you came to fucking again. You were tipsy enough that Joel had to help keep you from stumbling between the bathroom and the bed, Ellie sleeping soundly in her crib as she had been the last few nights, the distance from her still oddly foreign to you.

“Careful there,” he caught you. “How many’d you have?”

“Enough, apparently,” you tried not to laugh, worried you’d wake up the baby.

“I’ll say,” he said, walking you to the bed and lowering you to the mattress. “Alright, legs in baby.”

You obeyed and he tucked the sheets around you before turning out the light and climbing into bed beside you. You rolled onto your side and nuzzled against him before he’d even gotten settled, making him laugh.

“Forgot what a touchy feely drunk you are,” he teased.

“Shut up,” you said, pressing yourself closer to him all the same. He laughed and then the two of you fit yourselves against each other, your body curving around his.

“Know it’s not the best circumstances,” he said quietly after a minute. “But… I’m glad you’re here. That you’re not tryin’ to do this shit alone.”

“Me too,” you said, moving somehow closer to him. His hold on you tightened, his nose nuzzling into your hair. Your lips ghosted over the warm skin of his throat. He groaned a little and your leg hitched over his thigh. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you ground your hips against him.

“Goldie,” he said, a little breathless, pulling back from you enough to look you in the eye. “We… we shouldn’t…”

You groaned in a way that was closer to a whine and his forehead dropped to yours.

“You’re drunk,” he whispered.

“Not that drunk,” you whispered back.

“Drunk enough,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “This… you still want this in the morning? We can talk about it. Or just forget about it. Whatever you want, but we can’t right now.”

You fell asleep before too long, feeling achy and needy as you did, and woke up still in Joel’s arms with dawn slipping through the slats of his blinds. Joel was already awake, his large palm resting on the crown of your head, his thumb brushing a gentle trail over your forehead. You looked at him for a moment, memorizing the planes of his face, the scruff on his cheeks, the way his hair was mussed first thing in the morning.

“She still asleep?” You asked quietly, eventually.

“Yeah,” he said, just as quiet. “Don’t know that she’s ever slept this late but checked the monitor a little while ago, she’s still breathin’…”

“That’s good,” you smiled a little. Your stomachs were pressed together, your t-shirt had ridden up in the night so your skin was against his and he was so warm, the heat of him seeping out and spreading over you.

“Goldie…” he whispered, his face drawn and so close to yours and your heart lurched in your chest. “I can’t…”

Ellie’s sharp little cry made you both jump, like you’d forgotten for a moment about the little life in the next room that was completely dependent on the two of you.

“I got ‘er,” Joel said, quickly pulling himself from you and all but running to Ellie’s room.

The two of you didn’t talk about it again.

You carried Ellie to the kitchen, Sarah perched on a counter as Tommy made a huge plate of nachos.

“And we can watch movies and stay up late and…”

“Just because I’m gonna be out of town for a night don’t mean that all the rules are out the window, baby girl,” Joel said, a small smile on his face all the same.

“Hey,” Tommy said. “How late she stays up and what junk food we eat while she does it is none of your concern when you ain’t here, old man.”

“Yeah Dad,” Sarah smirked, leaning over and swiping a chip from Tommy’s plate. “You leave Uncle Tommy in charge? You get what you get.”

“Lord,” Joel sighed, still smiling. “Such a bad influence on my kid…”

“S’why you love me,” Tommy smirked before winking at you. “Alright, let me see the tiny one, c’mon.”

You gave Ellie a kiss on her chubby cheek before passing her off to Tommy and he beamed at her.

“There’s the cutest baby in the world,” he held her with his large hands around her waist, lifting her to blow a raspberry as best he could on her onesie covered stomach. Ellie giggled and he held her to his chest. “There, now I got the important stuff all set. You two get out of here, try to have fun…”

“Not goin’ for fun,” Joel said, almost like a reprimand.

“I know,” Tommy said, still calm. “But still. You two have had your hands full lately. Have a damn drink at least.”

You stepped in before Joel had a chance to try to pick a fight with his brother.

“You know how to hold her when she has her bottle?” You asked. “And where the extra diapers are in case the ones in the changing table drawers run out? And…”

“I got ‘er,” Tommy said gently. “And I got your numbers if I need ‘em. Which I won’t.”

You nodded, not fully able to shake the knot that had settled in your stomach at the thought of leaving Ellie with anyone but yourself or Joel. At the thought of being alone with Joel, no buffer of Ellie or Sarah that had been there ever since you’d slept together again.

“Thank you for doin’ this,” Joel said earnestly. “It means a lot.”

“One day, I’ll have kids and I’ll need you to watch ‘em when I want to get my girl out of town,” Tommy said. “Better believe I’m cashing in.”

You and Joel stopped at a gas station on the way out of town, filling up your car and grabbing snacks from the convenience store and delaying the inevitable awkward silence when the two of you were alone with nothing else to distract you.

It felt like the two of you were halfway to fucking Waco when Joel finally spoke.

“You think she’ll be there?” He asked.

You sighed.

“I don’t know. I hope so, I hope we can get to her and that she’ll listen and…”

You ground your teeth for a moment before looking over to him. Joel was driving - it never mattered that it was your car, Joel always drove, it had been like that even when you were teenagers - and there was something so reassuring about him being behind the wheel.

“Is this stupid?” You asked. “Am I going about this the wrong way?”

He glanced over to you, looking you up and down before turning his eyes back to the road.

“I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to do this,” he said after a moment. “It’s… it’s a shit situation. I just don’t want you gettin’ your hopes up too much is all.”

“They’re not,” you said quickly. “God, even if she is there, it’s still going to be a fucking mess…”

“It is,” Joel said. “But you’ll help her through it. You’re real good at that shit.”

You scoffed.

“What?” He said. “You are. You’ve been doin’ a great job, Goldie girl. That’s not going to change because Anna actually comes back - or doesn’t.”

You nodded slowly, looking out the window again, trying not to think about whether you were more afraid that Anna would be at the concert tonight or that she wouldn’t be.

“Think you’re ready to throw a pool party for a bunch of preteen girls?” You asked, giving him a little smile.

“Lord,” he laughed once. “No. But thanks for helpin’ plan it all the same. Sarah’s so damn excited, rivals the fuckin’ concert…”

“Your list is coming along,” you smiled a little wider him.

“Speaking of our lists,” he teased, glancing your way. “How’s that book of yours comin’ along?”

“Good, shockingly enough,” you said. “You’re in this one, too. Well, kind of you, it’s not like I named the character Joel but…”

“I am?” He asked, brows raised. You nodded and then he frowned. “Wait, too? What do you mean, too?”

Your face fell before you could stop it, your eyes going wide.

“Goldie,” he said, glancing toward you. “What’d you mean, too? Was I in your first book?”

“OK, don’t start that,” you said. “Come on, I… Look, alright? My first book was more of a coming of age thing and you were my best friend so… yeah, OK, you might have influenced a character a little. Just a bit. That’s all, it’s nothing crazy…”

Your heart was racing but Joel just smiled, broad enough that it made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Didn’t know I meant so much to you, Goldie Girl,” he teased.

“Don’t read into it,” you rolled your eyes. “Literally, please don’t read it…”

“Pretty sure it’s above my reading level, anyway,” he winked.

You glared at him.

“I hate you,” you said.

“I know,” he smiled, glancing over at you. “S’why we get along so well.”

The two of you fell into your usual, comfortable familiarity after that, joking and laughing and singing along to the songs from the playlist Joel made for the drive, you trying to forget about the fact that you were only making this drive to try to save your sister from herself.

The room Joel had booked for you this time was not nearly as nice as the one from the Taylor Swift weekend - not that you were arguing. Putting the two of you in one hotel room right now felt like tempting fate as it was, let alone one that could be mistaken for romantic. But still, you were disappointed when he opened the motel door to a room with two queen sized beds instead of just one king.

“Figured you could use some space from me since we don’t gotta listen to a baby monitor all night,” Joel said, carrying the bags in. He dropped your duffle on the bed furthest from the door and checked his watch. “Should probably head out in about an hour if you want to get something to eat first…”

You nodded, fidgeting with your necklace, feeling Joel’s eyes on you.

“Well,” Joel said, his voice a little awkward. “Think I’ll… I’ll just… take a nap. Keep my eyes closed. So you can get changed and shit if you need.”

“Right,” you smiled tightly. “Thanks.”

“Yup,” he said, lying flat on his back on his bed, his forearm over his eyes as you started going through your bag.

You checked in with Tommy, already missing Ellie, before you got changed into something that was good for a rock concert. Well, you thought it was, anyway - this was always your sister’s territory - and did your hair and makeup so that you had a shot of trying to talk your way backstage to talk to Josh. Hopefully. Maybe.

When you gently shook Joel awake he stared at you for a moment, blinking with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite place.

“You really passed out,” you teased, fighting that awkward feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Yeah,” he shook his head quickly, like he was shaking off the sleep. “Guess so. C’mon Goldie, let’s go see if we can find Anna.”

***

There had to be more Joel could be doing to help you. He was sure there was something he was fucking missing because there had to be something he could do beyond twiddling his fucking thumbs, waiting in line to get into a small concert venue in Dallas on a Saturday night.

You were twisting your hands around on themselves, lower lip between your teeth as you tried to peer around the line as though you’d have any chance of seeing any of the bands right now.

“Is this dumb?” You asked eventually, looking at Joel with wide eyes. “I’m worried this is a stupid fucking idea…”

“How else were you gonna get ahold of the guy?” He asked gently. “You didn’t have his number, it’s not like you can find him in the damn phonebook. You came to him. It’s what you had to do. You have to try, right?”

You took a deep, shaky breath and nodded.

“Right,” you said. “You’re right.”

The words didn’t match your expression, still worrying your lip between your teeth, still knotting your fingers and Joel wondered yet again what the fuck he was missing. It had to be something, there had to be something he could do to make your life easier because, fuck, why was he even here if he couldn’t?

Ever since you’d all but moved into his house, you’d done nothing but improve his life. Sure, you came with an infant and she was nothing if not a challenge but Joel liked having another kid around to take care of. Thrived on it, really. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed Sarah’s newborn days until he was faced with Ellie’s.

Joel had been so alone then, drowning in the state of his life, in his new identity as Sarah’s father, in the weight of the future heavy in his hands whenever he held his baby girl. It had been hard to really enjoy that time. He knew he’d want to remember it, the way her little legs tucked up into her stomach and the way her nose scrunched when she first woke up - something she still did now if he woke her up abruptly from a deep enough sleep - but it had been a conscious thing. Remember it because he should, because he knew he’d want to keep these parts of his daughter close, not because it came naturally.

He wondered, sometimes, in hindsight, if there was something wrong with him for that. If he wasn’t a good enough father because his mind had been elsewhere in his daughter’s earliest days, if some vital piece of him was broken because he hadn’t taken naturally to that part of fatherhood even though he loved her more than he realized any human being could love another.

With Ellie, though, he knew he wasn’t broken. He’d just been so overwhelmed by everything else that the best parts of fatherhood hadn’t found their way to him yet. Now, though, it seemed like he had everything he needed. There was Sarah, you, a new little life that needed care and guidance and love. He felt like he had purpose and so much of that was thanks to you.

And of course, once you came into yourself again with Ellie, you’d started doing what you always did: make things better. Of course, you just being there would have made things better. But you stepped right into loving his daughter like she was your own. He’d come home from a job site and find you in the yard with the girls, a makeshift soccer goal set up, Ellie in her bouncer in the shade, you in the goal to give Sarah a chance to practice shooting.

“Dad, look!” She’d yell before Joel even got the door all the way open on the truck.

“I’m watchin’,” he’d smile and look over her head to you and you’d give him a wink. And he did watch as Sarah dribbled the ball toward you and faked out her kick, making you go one way while the ball went the other.

“See?” She beamed, her smile huge. “I’m going to score so many goals next season!”

“You really are,” he kissed her forehead. “Great job, baby girl!”

You helped him with his business plan. You gave him an audience while he practiced playing guitar with a plan to go talk to Jimmy and see if he’d let him play at the bar again, like he did when he was young. You’d kick him playfully as the two of you sat on opposite ends of the couch with your legs overlapping his in the middle, just like you had when you were kids. You made him dinner and made him laugh and made him want to kiss you so bad he wondered if it was possible to explode with wanting.

You did so much for him. Why couldn’t he figure out a goddamn way to give it back to you?

The venue finally opened and you laced your fingers with Joel’s as you worked your way through the press of people, trying to make it close to the stage.

“This is so weird,” you said, looking back over your shoulder to Joel, standing at your back. “What do we do? Dance? Pretend this is a regular concert? Do we get a beer?”

“If you want a beer, Goldie, I’ll get you one,” Joel smiled a little. “I think it’s fine if we just stand here until they come on and try and get his attention when they do. But… well, if you feel like you can have a good time, I think you should.”

Your face pinched at that, like you thought maybe you shouldn’t even consider something as insignificant as your own happiness.

“Think this’ll be easier with a drink,” he said, making an executive decision. Maybe having fun when trying to track down your sister when she was fuck knows where and left you with her infant daughter was insane but fuck it, being miserable while doing it wasn’t making it any easier. “Be back.”

You looked like you were about to protest but he slipped away from you and into the people starting to press into the pit, working his way against the flow of bodies to the bar. He got himself a whiskey soda and you a vodka sour because that’s what you’d get with your fake ID when the two of you would sneak into places like this when you were kids. He smiled a little, thinking about that as he went to find you again, how you’d pretended like it wasn’t really breaking the rules since you were just helping Joel do research for how to break into the music business. You’d smile at him, your eyes so bright from the stage lights and say “Someday, that’ll be you up there” and he thought - even then - that you might be the best thing he’d ever seen.

Joel was working his way back through the crowd to you, living in that time long past for a moment, when he saw you toward the front of the pit. But he didn’t have a chance to really enjoy the sight of you all decked out in your concert clothes. Instead, there was a man next to you, his hand on the small of your back as you leaned away from him and Joel’s blood got hot.

“…just for a little while,” the man was saying, trying to step closer to you.

“No thanks,” you said, your tone sharp.

“C’mon, we’ll get you a drink and…”

“Hey,” Joel said, stopping right behind the man, crowding his space. The guy was tall but not as tall as Joel and he had to tilt his head back to look him in the face. “You botherin’ my girl?”

The man’s eyes darted to you before going back to Joel.

“She didn’t…” the man began before puffing himself up, straightening his spine as much as he could. But the top of his head still only reached Joel’s eyes and he quickly deflated. “Look man, all she had to do was say she had a boyfriend and I would’ve backed off, alright? Think your problem is with your girl…”

“No,” Joel said, jaw tight. “My problem’s with you. Don’t matter if she’s got a boyfriend or not, she says she ain’t interested? She ain’t interested. Learn some fuckin’ respect. Or do you need me to teach you?”

The man looked Joel up and down, like he was weighing his chances. Joel just stood his ground. He wasn’t about to let this asshole just touch you without permission. An excuse to hit him would be welcome.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” the guy muttered, turning to go. Joel watched him leave before turning back to you and handing you your drink.

“You alright?” He asked.

“Fine,” you said, watching him closely. “Thank you for that. He just was not backing off. I forgot what it’s like to go to places like this and deal with guys like that…”

“Shouldn’t have to deal with guys like that,” Joel said, clenching his jaw. “Fuckin’ asshole should know how to take a no. But probably shouldn’t leave you unattended again, apparently the second I walk away some jackass swoops in…”

You laughed a little and rolled your eyes as the crowd started cheering and you turned to face the stage as the opener came out. Joel slipped his hand around your waist to your stomach, his fingers splaying wide over the satin fabric of your shirt and he wanted to touch the silk of your skin below and he tried not to think about that. He tugged you back against him and you frowned, looking over your shoulder to him.

“To be safe,” he said in your ear. “Keep other assholes’ hands off ya.”

You smiled a little and Joel held you close as the first two bands played, your back pressed tightly against his front. The more of your cocktail you drank, the more you moved almost absently to the music and Joel had to focus to not get lost in you.

It was easier to remember exactly what the two of you were doing here when the headlining band - Josh’s band - took the stage. The crowd became deafening when they came out and you grabbed Joel’s arm when the guitarist jogged to his place under the lights.

“That’s Josh!” You yelled over your shoulder to Joel.

He evaluated the man quickly. Your brother-in-law was on the other side of the stage, stocky and shorter than Joel’d expected him to be, in ripped jeans and a tight gray t-shirt, a guitar strapped across his body. He lifted the neck of it and played the first chord, the lead singer running out and taking the mic.

“C’mon,” Joel said, keeping his grip on you and trying to guide you through the crush of people toward the other side of the stage, hoping that Josh would see you and recognize you in the crowd. “Try and get closer.”

It took some time, a few songs passing before the two of you could make it over there and even then, getting to the very front of the pit was basically impossible, fans pressed tight to the barricades and reaching for the band.

Still, it didn’t stop you from trying to get his attention, your arms up over your head and screaming his name. When he thought the set might be winding down and Josh still hadn’t acknowledged you, Joel started looking for where to take you to try to get back stage and, when the band left the stage and you deflated, he took your hand.

“C’mon,” he said. “Think we can try and get to ‘em this way…”

He tugged you along behind him, keeping a tight hold on you as he led you to a side door. He jiggled the handle but it was locked.

“Shit,” you swore, looking back to where people were leaving.

“Any security?” Joel asked, voice low.

You frowned and looked around for a moment.

“No, but…”

He grimaced but forced the handle down with all his weight, the old lock popping.

“Did you just break the door?” You asked quietly, brows raised.

Joel shrugged.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he said, ushering you through it and quickly pulling it shut behind him.

“Now where?” You whispered it even though there was no one around to hear you.

“Uh,” he looked around, trying to remember where he thought the green rooms would be as he looked down the hall. “This way, I think.”

He led you down the cinderblock passage, things getting louder as he did - a good sign, he thought. And then, he turned a corner and walked smack into a security guard.

“Sorry,” Joel said quickly, tucking you behind him and hoping the guy would forget it and move on.

No such luck.

“You two supposed to be back here?” The guard asked, looking you and Joel up and down. “Show me your passes.”

“We don’t have any,” you said, stepping out from behind Joel before he could stop you. “But I’m trying to talk to Josh Williams from Shine Anthem, he’s my brother-in-law and…”

“Don’t really give a shit who you say you are,” the guard said, reaching for Joel. “You can’t just come back here so I’m going to have to ask you to…”

Joel was trying to figure out some kind of plan when he heard your name being called from behind you and then the man from the stage was there, running up and damn near tackling you, bending low to tuck his shoulder into your chest so he could lift you into a hug as you yelped.

He put you down quickly, though, a broad smile on his face and a glassy look in his eyes.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” He beamed, looking you up and down. “Should’ve called! I’d have gotten you tickets and passes and shit instead of you hangin’ out out there with everyone else!”

“Well, it’s not like I had your number,” you said, a little incredulous as Josh leaned around you to the guard.

“They’re good,” Josh said to him. “This is my girl’s sister! She never fuckin’ visits, this is great!”

You turned to Joel, a look of almost total disbelief on your face as Josh threw an arm around your shoulders and started guiding you down the hall. Joel just shrugged at the security guard and followed, you looking back over your shoulder to make sure he was still there.

“She didn’t say anything about you coming, either,” he said, an almost odd familiarity to his tone. From what Joel knew, you’d only spent a little time with your sister’s husband, it wasn’t as though the two of you were close. “Could’ve called her, too! She can always get ahold of me, always answer the phone for that girl…”

“Have you seen her?” You asked. “Because…”

“Seen her?” He laughed. “She’s here! It’s like old times, s’been great! God I love that girl. She’s with the guys right now, nice to have her around again…”

“She’s here?” You stopped and turned to stare at him. “Right now?”

“Yeah!” He said brightly. “This is great, a regular family reunion! She’ll be so excited to see you, she’s always saying she wishes you’d come back home more. Who’s this guy, by the way? Not your husband, he’s that old dude, right?”

“This is my friend Joel,” you said quickly before trying to refocus him. “Josh, I need to see Anna. Right now.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, stopping outside a heavy metal door and turning to Joel. “You party? Because we can do shit up, I know this one’s not usually down but…”

“We’re not here to fucking party, Josh!” You snapped. “I need to see Anna! Right now!”

“OK!” He put his hands up and gave Joel a look as if to say ‘women, right?’ before opening the door. “She’s right here.”

The space was smaller than Joel had been expecting. Maybe he had idealized expectations for a rockstar’s green room since he’d once dreamed of being one but this one was small, with a few couches that were crowded with people, the air clouded with acrid smoke so thick he couldn’t help but cough.

“Ahhh!” Anna threw her arms in the air in glee from the corner of one of the couches, where she was perched on the lap of some other band member. “My sister’s here! Look, guys, it’s my big sister!”

Joel clenched his jaw and looked over to you, ready to help you if you needed it. The look on your face was hard for him to place, your expression so strangely foreign. Of all the faces Joel knew, he knew yours maybe best of all - Sarah the only exception. He knew how you looked when you were lost in thought, when you were about to cry, when you were coming, when you laughed so hard you cried. But you were so rarely angry that he didn’t recognize it, not at first.

But your eyes narrowed and your hands curled into fists at your sides and for a moment, just a moment, Joel thought you were going to scream.

But you didn’t. Instead, you steeled yourself and marched purposefully, forcefully, over to your sister.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked, standing over her. “This is what you’re doing? You’re here, partying with your ex-husband and the guys you used to fuck around with while I’m home with your daughter?”

The room had gone silent, Anna staring up at you with wide eyes.

“Daughter?” Josh said quietly and Joel looked over at him. He was staring at Anna in disbelief and disappointment. “Wait, you had a kid? When…”

“You didn’t even tell him?” You scoffed at her. “Of course you wouldn’t, why would you? Why would you ever consider anyone but yourself in your decision making process? You never have before! Hell, you never even really think of yourself, do you? Not your future self, not the person you really need to be worried about because if you did, you wouldn’t be fucking high right now!”

“I’m not high!” She got up quickly, stumbling a little as she did.

“Bullshit you’re not high,” you snapped. “Look at you!”

“I’m not…” She lowered her voice, as though that would make much difference in a room as quiet and small as this one. “It’s just some pot, OK? It’s not like…”

“Oh, because you’re not snorting anything or injecting anything, it doesn’t count?” You asked, brows raised, incredulous. “Because this isn’t the first step to you ending up back in the hospital after you OD again or worse, just dead somewhere?”

“You ODed?” Josh said weakly, going over to her, running his fingers through her hair. “Baby, you never told me this, why didn’t you tell me this?”

“It was last year,” she said. “You were touring, it wasn’t that bad…”

“She almost died,” you said to Josh. “And she had been sober until you came along, so congratulations on dragging her down yet again.”

You turned your attention back to your sister.

“Were you ever planning on coming home?” You asked. “Or were you going to just party like a goddamn teenager without a care in the world until you wound up dead?”

Anna just stared down at her hands and you shook your head.

“I should have fucking known.”

You stalked off without another word, slamming the door behind you as you went.

The room was awkwardly silent for a moment, Josh looking at Joel apologetically.

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly, his eyes wide, all the casual familiarity gone. Instead, he was almost uncomfortably earnest and almost sad. “I never would have… I didn’t know.”

Joel looked back toward the door for a moment before he sighed and looked at Josh again.

“We’re here ’til the morning,” he said. “Gimme your phone.”

Josh handed it over and Joel typed his number into a text message before sending himself a message that had the name and address of the hotel you were at with the room number. He gave the phone back before he turned to Anna.

“She loves you,” Joel said. “And she loves Ellie. You should come home.”

She sniffed but just turned her head, looking away from him.

“Right,” Joel said. “Well… Should know Ellie misses you. And we’ll be at that hotel until 11 a.m. tomorrow.”

He had to run to catch up with you, finding you standing outside with tears in your eyes as you paced.

“Hey,” Joel said and you looked at him, quickly drying your eyes on the insides of your wrists. “You alright?”

“No,” you sniffed. “No, I just fucked everything up, I shouldn’t have done that, who knows what…”

“Hey,” Joel cut you off, pulling you into his chest. “S’OK.”

“Easy for you to say,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt.

He sighed, holding you for a moment, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Pick up some beer on the way.”

You checked in with Tommy on the way and Joel tried to keep his distance from you once the two of you got back to the hotel room and you’d calmed down a little. He’d gotten the two damn beds for a reason and it wasn’t because he wanted to be apart from you. It was because he knew that things between the two of you had gotten too close since you’d shown up on his doorstep with Ellie in your arms. Even if the sex had never happened, it was too much like being with you, going through life with you the way he had been. It couldn’t continue, not without destroying him.

So Joel stayed on his bed and you stayed on yours, a six pack on the night stand in the middle and he cursed the pretext of it. The space was smart, he knew that. But goddamn, couldn’t he just hold you as long as you’d let him? Couldn’t he just live in that liminal place for as long as he could manage it? Wouldn’t the damage be worth it in the end if he did? He didn’t know. He just stayed on his bed, finding some stupid action movie with a bad TV edit to put on, one where the dialogue choices were bad enough that you were laughing so hard that you spilled beer on your bedspread.

“Oh shit,” you swore, putting the now nearly empty bottle on the nightstand and jumping up to run to the bathroom and grab towels. Joel joined you, mopping up the mess as best you could. “God, so much for having one night where I don’t end up covered in something. If it’s not spit-up at home it’s beer here…”

“At least this didn’t end up in your hair,” Joel smiled a little and you laughed.

“Yeah, thank god for small miracles. And at least it’s just my bed so you don’t have to deal with it, too.”

“You don’t need to deal with it, either,” he said before he even thought about it. “You can just sleep in my bed.”

Not that he really needed to think about it.

“You don’t need to do that,” you waved him off. “I’ve already taken over half your bed at home, you deserve your space. I’ll be fine sleeping in spilled beer for a night.”

“Goldie, c’mon,” he said, realizing just how close he was standing to you. How easy it would be to kiss you. “This ain’t some frat house, not about to just make you sleep in that shit.”

You bit your lower lip, uncertain, and he had to fight the urge to tug that soft flesh from between your teeth. He wanted to bite that lip, kiss it, run his thumb over it.

“What?” He asked, desire edging into his voice whether he wanted it to or not.

“What about distance?” You asked quietly, breathily.

“Distance is overrated,” he said, tightening his hold on the towels so he wouldn’t grab you and kiss you the way he was so fucking desperate to do.

He tried to make himself calm down in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, getting changed into pajamas and setting the beer-soaked towels out to dry. He wished he could jerk off because that might be the only thing that actually put him back inside his own goddamn head for a moment. Maybe he could once you were asleep, just lock himself in the bathroom and fuck his hand to the memory of you and try to keep your name off his tongue when he came.

But that wouldn’t help now as he watched you cross the room in the little shorts and tank top you’d brought to sleep in, all but mesmerized by the bounce of your breasts when free of your bra when you walked or the way the soft cotton of your bottoms just skimmed the edge of your ass and he could see the swell of flesh there, almost out of sight, almost out of reach, close enough to tempt but far enough to not belong to him.

“I really didn’t mean to put you out again,” you said as you climbed into bed beside him. “I really didn’t mean to the first time, either… In case I haven’t said it, I think I owe you my life for everything you’ve done for me and Ellie. I would have drowned in this alone.”

“You’re not putting me out, Goldie girl,” he said, smiling a little. “Hell, it’s been nice, having the two of you around. Sarah’s been beggin’ me for a little sister since she could talk, think this is the closest she’s getting for a while…”

You laughed a little and then sighed, leaning your head back against the headboard.

“How bad do you think I fucked up with Anna?” You asked, watching him.

He sighed.

“I dunno… S’not like I know much about addiction or what she’s going through right now. But I can’t say I blame you for what you said. She knows you love her, that you want what’s best for her.”

You sighed and looked down at your hands, picking at your thumbnail for a moment.

“She’s the one who found our mom, did I ever tell you that?”

“No,” Joel said quietly, watching you closely.

“She did,” you nodded at your hands. “I can’t imagine what that would have been like for her. I only saw Mom after the funeral home had her, I didn’t have to… I wasn’t there for Anna after that. It’s no wonder she dropped out, found trouble, tried to take care of shit with drugs…”

“That’s not on you,” Joel said.

“Isn’t it?” You looked at him. “I was the big sister, I was who she had and I left her to cope with it alone and the first time I try to actually help her with something, I fuck that up, too.”

“You were young,” Joel said. “Basically a kid.”

“I was 20 years old,” you replied. “I was old enough to have a fiance and a career path and a life away from here. I could have moved back, I could have stepped up, I could have done something but I just…”

“It’s not your job to take care of everybody, baby,” he said gently.

“What if I fucked up so bad this time that she doesn’t come back?” You whispered. “What if she leaves Ellie with me forever and I can’t do it and…”

You sniffed and looked back at your hands, a tear slipping down your cheek and Joel just tugged you against him, tucking you against his chest, kissing the crown of your head.

“We’ll deal with it,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your hairline soothingly. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you. It’s OK.”

You nodded wetly into his chest and he held you like that for a while, your body slowly molding to his until you were soft and warm and pressed entirely against him and your tears slowed.

“You doin’ better?” He asked eventually and you nodded against him, sitting up and sniffling a little. He smiled, reaching out and trying your tears with a swipe of his thumb, your cheek fitting against his palm. “See? Not so bad.”

“No,” you smiled a little back. “It’s not.”

Your eyes were on his and he was so close to you, so close that he could almost touch your nose with his.

So he did, moving ever so slightly closer so your skin was brushing his own. Your breath hitched when he did and instead of finding relief in the contact, it stoked a fire he hadn’t realized was burning, low and hot and sure, inside him.

“Joel,” you breathed. “Please…”

“It’s OK Goldie girl,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

He kissed you then, the concept of distance so far at the back of his mind as he did, the spearmint of your toothpaste tinged with hops from the beer on your breath.

It was hesitant at first. He wasn’t sure if it was just him holding back or if you were, too, but all pretense was gone almost immediately. You were twisting in the sheets, moving to face him, to put your arms around his neck and press yourself closer to him as his hands ranged over you, trying to touch as much of you as he could reach before you slipped through his fingers yet again.

He pulled at your clothes, your mouth separating from his only long enough to get your shirts off, and you moaned into him, fingers fumbling with his pants, pulling the waistband down to free his already hard and aching cock. He palmed you through your shorts, your cunt so hot and wet he could feel it through the fabric and if he thought too long about what being inside you would feel like, he was going to come before he even had a chance to fuck you.

Your hand wrapped around his length and you started working him, making him groan and you seemed hellbent on trying to move closer to him somehow, practically squirming as you worked yourself against his hand while pulling yourself toward him.

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, breathless, as he tugged your shorts down, watching with rapt attention as your skin was revealed to him. You were glistening between your thighs and he groaned at the sight, tossing your shorts and panties aside before he teased your little, swollen clit.

“Fuck,” you panted, closing your eyes for a moment. “Holy… I need…”

“What?” He asked after a moment, working your clit harder. “What do you need, baby?”

“You inside me,” your eyes opened again, your pupils blown. Your hips moved almost of their own accord against him and he moaned. “Please Joel, please, fuck, it hurts, I need…”

“Take what you need,” he said, cock aching so bad he thought he might explode with hit.

You just nodded before moving to straddle him. He sat back against the headboard and took your waist in his hands as your dripping slit brushed against his leaking head, his hips involuntarily jerking up toward you at the temptation of you there, hot and wet and wanting.

Your eyes met his - so wide and vulnerable - before you lined him up with your grasping entrance and took him inside yourself in one, swift motion,

He gasped at the feeling of it, how your velvet tightness made room for him inside of you, how your walls stretched over him, how you were so warm and soft inside, your wetness already making a mess of him.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathed, watching you closely. “So goddamn good…”

You just gave him a strangled little moan as you looked down between your bodies to where he was entering you, panting for breath. You rolled your hips against him, slowly and deliberately at first, pulling a groan from him that made him thankful you were in some shitty hotel room and not home where his daughter would hear him because he didn’t think he could stop it if he tried. He didn’t want to stop it. He wanted to let himself get lost in you and your body and your pleasure until the only thought left in his mind was you.

You started to ride him in earnest then, your pace increasing, your clit finding his pubic bone and grinding against him there as he thrust up into you, finding those deep, soft places inside your tight heat, places that made your channel start to flutter over him in little shocks of pleasure.

He watched as you stifled your moan as he hit one of those places inside of you and he pressed there deeper, harder, holding you to him for a moment before his thumb moved to your clit, working you in tight circles.

“Want to hear you, baby,” he panted before kissing and sucking at the tender skin of your throat. “Don’t gotta be quiet here, lemme hear you.”

You nodded quickly, desperately, and his hands ran up your back as you arched into him, fingers digging into your flesh, guiding you over him as you rode him hard and fast and he met you stroke for stroke. You moaned, your body tightening around him and he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing and turning your moan into a needy little cry.

“That’s it baby,” he panted against your skin. “Just take it. Come for me, make yourself come on my cock, c’mon.”

Your movements became faster, more uncertain, your pussy so tight around him it would probably hurt in any other context but because it was you, like this, it was heaven.

“Joel!” You cried, burying him deep inside as you exploded around him, your muscles throbbing over him. He held you close and tight and drank in the sight and sound of your pleasure for a moment before giving over to his own, coming hard and deep inside of you, rope after seemingly endless rope of his spend spilling into you.

He held you close and tight like that as the two of you came back down from your shared high, buried inside you where it felt so much like he belonged he thought his heart might burst with it.

Eventually, you sat back from him, your eyes searching his for a moment, a hint of panic at the edges. He ignored the sting in his chest that came with that and instead just cupped your cheek.

“It’s OK baby,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

You just watched him for another moment before you nodded and slowly, gently, pulled yourself away from him, settling against him on the bed.

He had the fleeting thought that he should go, get a washcloth, clean the two of you up but he couldn’t bring himself to move, afraid if he lost this closeness with you now he might never get it back. Instead, he stayed there, trailing his fingers up and down your bare arm as he held you.

“What are we doing?” You asked quietly, eventually. “We can’t keep doing this, Joel, we have responsibilities, we’re not teenagers anymore, there are kids involved now, we….”

“Why do we have to be doing something?” He asked, adjusting so he could actually look at you.

You pulled back from him, frowning a little.

“What?”

“Why can’t we just…” he paused, trying to find the words. Words he shouldn’t say but that he couldn’t seem to stop. “We’re basically living together. We have so much else goin’ on right now it’s not like we’re dating anyone. Why don’t we just…”

He trailed off, hoping you’d fill in the rest.

“Do you mean like…” You paused. “Friends with benefits or something?”

“Yeah,” he said, even though calling you that felt so wrong that it was something like blasphemy. “Then we can just… do this when we need it. Don’t need to be a big deal, it can just…”

“Right,” you said, looking from his face to his chest before nodding. “Yeah… That… we can try that. As long as you promise it won’t ruin things with us. I can’t lose you again, Joel. I just can’t.”

“I know, baby,” he said quietly, kissing your forehead. “Can’t lose you, either.”

“OK,” you said softly, nuzzling closer. “Friends.”

“With benefits,” he said.

“With benefits,” you said.

The term felt so wrong that it took time to settle in him, reducing what he felt for you to something as simple as just friendship with sex. But there was something hopeful in him, too. Something that clung, vicious and hard, to the thought that he could have this with you, live in that place between worlds where he could pretend that you were his when he came home to you because he got to fit himself inside you every night. This, he thought, would be worth the destruction.

He tried to dwell on the comfort of that as the two of you got packed the next morning, moving slowly but in sync with each other in the small room, one bed stained with beer and the other your indiscretions.

Joel had given up hope that Anna would show - glad he hadn’t told you that he’d given Josh the room number so you wouldn’t be let down by it - when he carried your bags to the car in the morning but froze when he saw your brother-in-law standing outside an Uber, his arms crossed, watching the hotel room door. Joel just gave him a nod before going to put the bags in the trunk, Josh meeting him there.

“Didn’t think you were comin’,” Joel said, closing the lid with a little too much force.

Josh nodded slowly, staring at Joel’s feet.

“Needed to talk things through with her first,” he said before meeting his eyes. “I didn’t know any of that shit, swear I didn’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have… I guess it doesn’t matter. I talked with her. She told me everything. I think everything, anyway.”

Joel just nodded, giving him a chance to continue on his own terms.

“I’m not good for her right now,” he said. “Shit, probably never was but I’m smart enough to know better now and I love her too much to let her get hurt because of me.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Joel asked. “Because saying that kind of shit don’t mean much if you just keep letting it happen.”

“You’re right,” Josh said. “She’s in the car. She agreed to go home with you guys and go to rehab. Back to rehab, I guess.”

Joel nodded again, looking toward the car, just making out the outline of Anna sitting in the back through the tinted window.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Joel said.

“Is she here?” Josh asked. Joel jerked his thumb toward the hotel room but Josh shook his head. “Not… I mean the baby. Ellie? Is she here?”

“No,” Joel said. “She’s home, with my brother. He’s takin’ good care of her, he watched my daughter plenty when she was Ellie’s age.”

Josh clenched his jaw but nodded anyway.

“Probably for the best,” he said. “I’m not… I should figure my own shit out before I meet her. But I want to. I will. I’m going to.”

Joel wasn’t sure he believed him but then, he’d done plenty to try to make himself worthy of being Sarah’s dad. Maybe Josh had it in him, too.

“Joel, do you have the…”

You fell silent as you came up beside him, one hand in your bag like you were looking for something, your mouth open in shock when you realized who he was standing with.

“Hey sis,” Josh smiled awkwardly.

“Hey,” you said quietly, eyes wide.

“Anna’s in the car,” he said. “We talked. She’s going to head back with you, figure shit out.”

“Yeah?” You asked, voice wet.

“Yeah,” Josh said. “It’s… it’s the right thing. Just… don’t be too hard on her. She’s hurting.”

“I won’t,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry I said what I did last night, I didn’t…”

“It’s OK,” Anna said. Joel hadn’t even noticed her getting out of the car but she was there now, one arm crossed protectively over herself. “I know I didn’t give you much choice.”

“Anna,” you breathed before all but throwing yourself at her, flinging your arms around her neck to pull her close. “I’m so glad you’re OK.”

She laughed wetly as she hugged you back.

“Yeah, me too.”

Josh went to help her get her things from the Uber and you looked to Joel, drying your eyes on your wrists.

“How’d you do it?” You asked quietly.

He shrugged.

“Don’t think I did much of anything at all,” he said, watching you closely. “Just told her the truth.”

“Whatever you did,” you said, stepping closer to him. “Thank you.”

You hugged him, your arms wrapping around him and he could feel every line of your body against his and he held you close. He couldn’t help but hold you close.

“‘Course, baby,” he said. “Do anything for you.”

He tried not to think about how true that was or how much that scared him as he gathered you up and took you and your sister home, where you belonged.

Next Chapter

A/N: I'm so sorry this took an eternity to write. My carpel tunnel flared up something fierce and put me out of commission for a while. Thank you so much for being patient!

Goldie and Joel are doing... something. It's something. I promise they're getting somewhere, they really are! There are just a few more bumps in the road until they do. I just really love writing these two as they work through these long-held assumptions and insecurities! Thank you for wanting to be there for it.

Love you!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #halcyon #joel miller x oc #joel miller smut

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kxxkiecxre · 1 year ago

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ꕥFWM - J.J.K ꕥ

PAIRING: Jungkook x F!reader

SERIES: like a moth to a flame.

SUMMARY: “do you really fuck with me or no? Do you trust me enough? Do you love me like I love you Y/N”

WARNINGS: bit of arguing, self doubts, about forgive cheating, angst, fluff, smut, fingering, cum eating, multiple orgasms, they joined the mile high club lol, mirror sex, unprotected sex (please don’t), tummy bulging. I think that’s it lol.

previously… next…

You had hoped this wouldn’t have happened. You trusted him enough to believe he wouldn’t screw you over like that. That he wouldn’t ever hurt you this much, but, maybe you truly are too naive? Because time and time again, you end up getting hurt. Even by the people you believed loved you.

But doubting yourself like this, comparing yourself to other women because of a man, you truly can’t believe you let yourself stoop so low because of him. Sure you love him, maybe a little too much, and maybe that’s why it hurts so fucking much, but you thought you had your heart wrapped in bubble wrap. Protecting it from breaking again, and here we go, Job failed. Maybe you should slap a ‘fragile’ sticker on top of it as well.

The rain seemed to be pour out of a bucket as you walked the streets of Boston, unsure of where you are or where you’re going. Eventually, you found a small cafe, stopping inside to grab a hot mocha and think.

Perhaps, he wasn’t lying? Was he telling the truth or is that just your wishful thinking? What if he did sleep with that woman? What does that mean?

You loved him so much it was practically suffocating you. Every single inch of your soul ached for his company every minute of every day. If almost burned you painfully when he wasn’t connected to you in some type of way. Everyday that you wouldn’t be with him, was like you’ve been the sickest you could be. Deathly sick. It was nauseating being away from him.

The way he’d touch your skin, his finger tips trailing your delicate flesh so gently, minimally running his fingers up and down. The way his kisses would be so gentle but so rough, leaving purple bruises in the wake of his pillow-like lips. His mouth was dirty, so dirty, he’d tell you all the things he’d love to do to you, while his fingers would be dipping inside of you. He’d edge you closer and closer. Tell you how beautiful you’d look when you were in your most natural state, moaning, sweaty and flushed underneath him. He’d tell you how much he loved kissing you, how much he adored your skin, how good you were. His body would melt into your skin while he’d be thrusting into you so deeply you could feel him in your cervix, and still, he’d tell you how gorgeous you looked while you’d come. He’d tell you how your eyes glisten and how he could get lost in them.

It drove you insane, he drove you insane. He wasn’t meant to ever become this precious to you. This close and personal. You were never meant to fall in love with him, fuck.

Yet here you are, walking back to the hotel. Coming to terms with the fact that you’d push aside your own pain and ego, just to keep having him close. Just to make him yours. Just to keep feeling that ecstatic feeling every time he’d kiss you. It was a drug stronger than fentanyl. Than cocaine, than heroine. Anything. Love, was the drug that truly would fuck you up.

Standing in front of the door, you suck in a deep breath, dripping wet, you enter the room to a disorientated Jungkook.

You’re not sure how you woke up to only argue with him again. Still here you are, with your phone in hand, realising he actually was telling you the truth. He truly was only helping his friend out and for some reason that made you so upset.

But no body was as upset as Jungkook right now. Standing in front of you in nothing more than grey sweatpants. Shirtless and angry.

“I don’t understand how you could just leave like that? You didn’t even have half the mind to text even Minho to say you’re okay, or that you’re taking a walk? You had me going crazy, shit don’t you get it?” He says desperately.

You bite your lip, for once lost for words.

“I love you so much I was about to go out and leave everything behind just to find you. I was going to call everyone I knew around here to help find you, fuck can’t you see that I see no point without you?”

“Jungkook what are you saying? You’re telling me you love but how can you blame? We went from friendly to hating each other to sex, you gave me no clue that you’d even remotely love me. How was I suppose to know?”

“So me spending everyday with you, giving you my entire attention, being mesmerised by you didn’t tell you that I could at least have a crush on you? All the roses the teddies the gifts the fact that no other person had even half of the attention I was giving you, not even my sister, was not a sign?”

You sigh, running your hand through your hair, you really fucked up huh?

“I’m sorry.”

His brows furrow, he squats to your level, forehead against yours his hands cupping your face as he closes his eyes, “do you really fuck with me or no? Do you trust me enough? Do you love me like I love you Y/N?”

You nod, your hands wrapping around his wrists, “I love you even more Jungkook.”

Going back home was depressing. A whole different vibe to when you arrived in Boston. Though you’ve mended things with Jungkook, you don’t particularly think this will be an easy fix. Nor do you think anything will be the same, not after you both confessed to your feelings. It’d be weird to just ignore all that happened and just go back to what you were

Not to mention, you’d have to explain everything to yeji and just that thought makes you feel nauseas.

Jungkook sat beside you in the backseat of the van, black puffer coat on his upper half, paired with a with a black oversized short with a white turtleneck underneath and his baggy cargo pants. His accessories, the silver gun in particular, was your recent gift to him. As well as the rings on his fingers. You weren’t dressed as nicely, a basic white cropped puffer coat that had a hoodie lined with faux fur, underneath though, you wore your baby pink long sleeve but skin tight shirt, your pants were the most general white tracksuits. You wore a beanie on top of your head because you genuinely felt like you were going to freeze to death. Even in your basic outfit, he reminded you how beautiful you looked, and it made you feel guilty, because you didn’t have the trust in him, even if he gave you no reason to distrust him. Your trust issues were getting in the way, and sure, before everything, before this, it used to be a silly little joke. Not anymore though.

You realise now you have a lot of shit to work through. You hadn’t realised how messed up you were, really. This situation opened up your eyes and as you follow him to sit across him for breakfast before going to the airport, you sigh, mentally fighting yourself wether you should bring this issue up now, or perhaps when you get home and get settled, you’re not sure how much more disagreeing both of you can take. You’re really tired of it.

“Look at me,” his voice was gentle, dripping honey as he spoke to you, “no more running out on each other, let’s have a little more trust in each other hm? Let’s hear each other out before we jump to conclusions and work on this together. This wasn’t all your fault either. I messed up to.”

You closed your eyes in a silent plea to stop blaming himself, your heart clenching the more you realise how you must have really hurt him, “the truth is, you haven’t. You did nothing wrong, on the contrary actually, you did everything right. You took care of a friend who needed you, especially a woman who needed someone she could trust to get her home safely and you did just that. And I couldn’t be more proud of you, I’m sorry I reacted like that. Im sorry Jungkook.”

He licked his pierced lip, nodding his head gently, “no biggie, just promise me one thing.”

You nodded immediately, beginning to take your gloves off, “anything.”

“Don’t ever leave me like that again. Don’t just disappear on me. Matter of fact, just don’t leave my side ever.”

Your eyes soften, heart beating faster than a bulletin train, “I promise.”

“Then why are you still sitting there?, come here.” His arms opened wider, welcoming you to his side.

You sat beside him, curling up into his side as his arm dropped around you. If a doctor put a stethoscope to your chest right now they’d be getting a crash cart In seconds. Your heart was erratic, jumping, running, sprinting, cartwheeling around in your chest as his lips connected to yours for a sweet and gentle kiss. Sure, you’re slowly patching things up. But that doesn’t mean everything is alright, nothing is alright until you truly discuss what’s going on between you. What you want to do about it, and finally telling Yeji. It won’t be ok until then.

Still, it’s better than being silent towards each other.

Still your thoughts chased you, even while you were sat beside him in the plane. Your mind never shut off, it was constantly on repeat. Naming things that are wrong with you, slowly realising you’ve been hurting Jungkook without even realising it. The times you’d roll your eyes at him when he’d tell you, that you’re the most important person in life right now along side his sister. The times you’d ignore him protecting you for own good, just like he tried protecting you against Jimin. All the times you wouldn’t trust him. The times you’d always choose Yeji over him.

Fuck, you were so incredibly guilty.

Taking his hand in yours, you bring it up to your mouth, planting little kisses on it a million times, hugging his bicep closer to you as if you could mend the pain you caused him. Realistically, that’s impossible. If you knew sooner, the way your stupid self was affecting him. You’d have apologised sooner. He slept peacefully beside you, nose blushed pink along with his cheeks, eyelashes long and curly, and his lips were a bit dry, but you blame the cold weather for his soft pillowy lips turning this way because yours are also incredibly dry and chapped.

A couple hours in and Jungkook is wide awake, staring at you as you slowly wake up. His hand still in yours, albeit not held onto as tightly anymore. Still his smile widens as you fully look at him now, confused on why he has the mischievous glint In his eyes.

“I’m even in your dreams huh? Was I as good as I am in reality baby?” He smirked to himself as his nose buried in your hair.

Like a deer caught in headlights, your cheeks flushed, eyes round and big “what?”

“Be a good girl and meet me In the bathroom in five minutes hm?”

You watched him walk away, still shocked at what he meant. Well you knew what he meant you were just shocked. Still you checked your watch waiting another two minutes before you went to the bathroom eyes scanning the rows of people in case any of them knew, most were asleep some were too busy reading.

Knocking the door opens and you were snatched inside almost instantly. His lips were desperate on your own, practically bruising. You kissed back full force, back against the door as his hand skimmed the rim of your sweatpants, gentle and ghostly on your skin before his hand followed down, pulling your thong to the side as his fingers dipped between your lips, feeling just how soaked you were, dripping down your own thigh and it drove him mad.

“Fucking hell Y/N,” he groaned, “what am I gonna do with you mhm?”

You whimpered, hands balled into fists around his black shirt desperate to feel him inside of, rubbing your thighs together as your core tingled, desperately looking for relief.

“Please Kook, I need you to fill me up.”

Your pants were down your legs in seconds. And your body was pressed against the sink, the mirror hanging right in front of you showing you just how desperate you were. His body behind you as he positioned your body, your ass sticking out, and his cock dragged up and down between your folds, pulling little moans out of you. Your core practically screamed for him, tingling as if there were a hundred million butterfly’s there.

The tip of his cock stretched you out, and it already had you whimpering, falling apart as he whined a barely audible “damn” under his breath.

Jungkook set the pace rough and animalistic from the start. He wasn’t messing around. He hit that sweet spot inside you over and over, his larger hands tangled with yours over the edge of the skin, his body flush against your back as he fucked you so good, he looked back at you in the mirror, smirking.

“Look at yourself baby, look how fucking beautiful you are.. shit” he groaned as you clenched around him, your pussy throbbing around his fat cock as it pounded inside of you, his hand came up to grab onto your jaw forcing you to looking back at him in the mirror, “do you see it? How fucking perfect you are? That’s my girl”.

You moaned a bit too loud, his hand covering your mouth as he raised you to almost stand, flush against his chest as he began thrusting slower but so fucking deep. He brought the hand that was over yours towards your lower stomach, making you feel him thrusting in and out of you. He was balls deep, hitting every tiny nerve and you knew it was going to be messy, so messy. A few more deep thrusts and you cum around him, forming a white sticky juice around his cock as it dragged in and out, running around his fat dick and it was enough for him to shoot his load up inside you.

“Shit, my perfect little whore hm?”

“Yes.”

You winced as he pulled out, leaving an empty feeling inside of you. And you missed him already, clenching around nothing but rather spilling his cum out of you. He dropped to his knees, watching as it made a mess of your swollen pussy, and he’s not quite sure what possessed him, but he latched onto your cunt within seconds, licking you up and making you gasp at the over stimulation as his tongue lapped around your pussy, sucking and twirl on your clit before dragging his tongue inside your hole and your legs shook as you came down once again, shocked at his behaviour. Your hands tightly wrapped around his black hair.

“What the fuck.”

It was too late for this, but still, just as you entered Yejis apartment she immediately threw herself at you, hugging you as if she hasn’t seen you for years. You hugged her back, smiling from ear to ear. damn the woman’s strong she had you In a tight ass grip you could barely breathe.

As she sat you down at the couch you shared a look with Jungkook, knowing that at some point she’ll need to find out and for some reason it leaves your stomach in a twist. Afraid she’ll hate your guts for falling for her brother.

Still, he smirked at you as he went into his room, and you knew that little rendezvous in the plane was just the beginning to what he had in store for you and it made a shiver run down your back.

Eyes focusing on yeji ranting about something, your mind was on other things though it looked like you gave her your undivided attention and it was kinda mean of you but at the same time, you really didn’t want to hurt yeji.

Anyone, but Yeji.

A/N: sorry the chapters seem so short 😩 enjoy!!!

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skeletboi · 8 days ago

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Super short update because my life is a mess.

But here is part 24 of the Intridimensional Au!

First /// Previous /// Next

__________________________________________

“Impressive as ever.” Ford said as he looked at the robot arm on the work bench.

“Thanks, Stanford.” Fiddleford replied quietly.

Ford watched Fiddleford place his good hand over the arm then glanced up at Fiddleford's face and frowned.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Lots a’ things are, I reckon.” Fiddleford said with a humorless huff of laughter. “Ya know when I went back home fer Christmas and fergot ta get Emma-May a present?”

“I recall, yes.” Ford responded, his frown deepening.

“She was already purdy darn mad at me before that. I wore baggy sweaters ta try and hide the metal cast on my arm so she wouldn't go worryin’ ‘bout it, but Tate ain't dumb and heard the hum of the components. He asked me about it, ‘cuz he's at that age where they ask a million questions, and I told him it was a metal cast. ‘Course he's an imaginative kid so he immediately started calling it a robit arm. He ran ta Emma-May ta tell her, and I thought she was ‘bout to murder me on the spot.” Fiddleford paused and picked up the arm. “He'd love this, but Emma-May would hate it.”

“I love it, if that makes you feel any better.” Ford said, placing a hand on Fiddleford's back.

“It does.” Fiddleford said with another quiet laugh. “But I can't stop thinkin’ about that. Emma-May knew how I felt ‘bout you in college, and we got in a purdy big fight ‘bout it before I came ta Gravity Falls. I love Emma-May, but our parents both loved the idea of us bein’ together more than we did. I think maybe we were more like best friends than spouses, but I promised her I'd be back ‘cause, above all else, we jus’ wanted Tate ta have a normal childhood.” Fiddleford set the arm back down and choked on a laugh that sounded suspiciously more like a sob. “‘Spose I'll jus’ hafta live with the fact that he won't. I don’ know if he'll ‘member me at all.”

“Fidds…” Ford said softly, unsure of what else to say with his own guilt and regret tearing at his chest.

“If I knew it was gonna turn out this way I prolly woulda jus’ said screw it and kissed ya as soon as ya opened the door to yer damn creepy cabin in the woods.”

Ford cracked a smile at that, but Fiddleford still looked a thousand miles away as he stared down at the arm.

“You would have stopped me.” Ford said after a moment.

Fiddleford glanced over at him in question.

“You say you would have kissed me right then, but I know you, and, if you had known this was the outcome, you would have left.” Ford clarified.

“Maybe.” Fiddleford responded thoughtfully, “But maybe not. Maybe I’m too scared in every timeline.”

“Fuck that.” Stan said, coming up behind them and dropping the last box at their feet. “I saw your face when Ford mentioned fighting back against Bill. That wasn't fear. That was determination.”

Fiddleford smiled sadly over his shoulder at Stanley.

“I thought you'd grow out of being so cheesy.” Ford deadpanned.

“Nope!” Stan replied with a smile. “But if you two are done being nauseating, we have some boxes to go through. I found a box of brown meat! It says it expires in 1993, but who the fuck knows what year it is in this dimension. My plan is to eat it now, ask questions later!”

“I believe you meant ‘die of food poisoning later’.” Ford noted.

“Or die of starvation! Might as well eat mystery food and die the fun way!” Stan laughed.

“Dysentery don't sound fun.” Fiddleford replied.

“Whatever, nerds.” Stan said, motioning to the boxes. “Just grab what you want so we can get on with life. I found a shot gun, too. You're welcome.”

Fiddleford laughed but did as he was told and put aside his arm project to start rummaging through the boxes.

___________________________________________

Sorry non-Fiddauthor fans. I needed Fiddauthor.

I originally wasn't going to write this bit in, but I wanted to give some context to the guilt they're both still feeling and the relationship between Emma-May and Fidds. Emma-May is bi in this universe, but prefers woman. Is that a cop-out to make myself feel better about how much Fidds hurt her? Yes, yes it is. But I am doing it anyway because I do what I fucking want.

I have another art piece nearly done, so I'll probably post it tomorrow. For now, enjoy. Or whatever.

#intridimensional au #skeletboi tag #gravity falls #gravity falls au #mystery trio #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddauthor #gravityfalls #ford pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #young stan pines #mullet stan #researcher ford #young fiddleford #portal mystery trio au #skeletboitag

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ange1sang · 5 months ago

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empty cupboards

1k words, gallavich (ian x mickey) feat. mandy + svetlana

; canon compliant, season 4-5, domestic gallavich, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of weight loss + food scarcity + drug use, ed not otherwise specified, soft

Ian wakes up to the sound of the theme song to It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia bleeding through the paper thin walls of the Milkovich house and the smell of cigarettes and the "Easter bread" Svetlana was baking late last night when he got home. It's a regular morning, the kind Ian has grown fond of as he's gotten more used to being in the Milkovich household, but there's an ache in his bones that stops a smile from creeping onto his lips. He's been sleeping on his side, one knobby knee resting on top of the other, and pain is throbbing through his knees and ankles. He pushes himself upright as slowly as he can, pain shooting up his spine as he does. It's a familiar pain, one that's been coming and going since he's been working at the Fairy Tail, but this morning it's far worse than it's ever been.

He's dizzy as he stands up and pulls on a tank top Mickey left at the bottom of the bed, dragging his feet along the floor to make his way to the living room. Mandy and Mickey are occupying opposite ends of the couch, Mandy with her knees pulled up to her chest and some of the bread Svetlana made half-eaten in her hand and Mickey shirtless, half-asleep watching the TV. Neither of them notice him until he trudges further into the room.

"You okay?" is the first thing Mandy asks him, no 'good morning' or 'how'd you sleep?' like he usually gets. Ian can feel himself swaying back and forth where he's standing but the thought of sitting down makes tears prick his eyes, the pain in his knees, hips and ass still nauseating.

"Hey," Mickey says softly, fully awake now and all but jumping up to hold Ian steady. "You take somethin' last night?"

"Just coke," Ian mumbles, leaning into the warm hand Mickey rests on his shoulder.

"You ass, you were still hungover when you left," Mickey mutters, but his thumb gently rubs circles into the patch of freckles on Ian's shoulders. "C'mon, Lana left stuff for breakfast."

"'S not a hangover, Mick," he whispers, but allows Mickey to herd him into the kitchen and gently lean him against the kitchen counter. Mickey raises an eyebrow and watches him as he pours him coffee and gets him one of the pretty, decorated breads from the tray on the kitchen table. Ian takes a deep breath, head hanging down so his chin touches his chest. "My bones feel like shit, man."

Mickey sighs, long and hard, and sets down the cup of coffee to pour a generous amount of creamer in. The sight of it makes anxiety prickle along Ian's forearms, remembering the scales he has to step on every couple months at the Fairy Tail and all of the advice he gets afterwards - black coffee always lands somewhere near the top of that list.

"You gotta eat more, Ian," he says, just as gentle as he is firm. He's getting better at letting his concern show through (or worse, depending on which of them is asked) and right now the furrow between his brows speaks volumes as he leans in to kiss Ian's cheekbone. "Fuck the club and all that shit, okay? Stay home, Nika's coming over to help Lana with dinner later."

"You want me here?" Ian teases, lifting his head just enough to meet Mickey's eyes. His boyfriend rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue, but when Ian takes the mug of lukewarm coffee from him, he smiles. The anxiety pumping through Ian's veins calms a little at the sight, thoughts of scales and diet tips taking a backseat when faced with the warmth of Mickey's affection.

"Yeah, dickface. Get some food in you 'nd sleep in," Mickey says. There's no pleading, but Ian sees it in the way his eyes flit back and forth between Ian's features, looking for reassurance that Ian isn't going to leave for the club on an empty stomach.

"Okay," he finally concedes. He reaches down and presses his thumb against his knee cap, trying and failing to rub the pain in his joint away. He feels stupid, knowing that just a year ago he was fit enough to be in the military and now he can't sleep on his side without wrecking his knees, hips and ankles. "You really think it's just the food?"

"Same thing would happen when Terry used to fuck off and we didn't have enough food for all of us," Mickey says, voice hushed while he glances over at Mandy. Ian watches his expression change when he looks at his sister and thinks back to him stealing boxes of food from the Kash and Grab. He wonders how many of those times were just to fuck with Kash and how many of them were because there was a house full of teenagers and criminals running on an empty stomach. "It gets better when you have enough to eat for a while."

Ian offers him a smile he hopes is comforting, and when that doesn't seem to work he takes another sip of the coffee and takes the bread Mickey's still holding out to him. He takes a bite and hums to let Mickey know it's good, though that's no surprise with the cooking Svetlana's done for them in the past. Some of the tension in Mickey's shoulder dissipates and he smiles at Ian.

"C'mon, Always Sunny reruns are on," he says, and with a hand between Ian's shoulder blades he walks him back to the sofa.

They spend the morning there, Ian drifting in and out of sleep with his head on Mickey's lap and his feet on Mandy's, the ache in his bones a reliable ebb and flow. He doesn't really wake up until Svetlana and Nika get home and start bustling around the kitchen, occasionally calling out for help from Mandy or Iggy. When he wakes he blinks up at Mickey and finds his boyfriend already looking down at him, a small smile on his face.

"Call the club," he says, his thumb coming down to stroke a soft line down between Ian's brows. "Stay home."

Ian smiles and pulls Mickey's hand down to his mouth so he can kiss his palm.

"Okay."

#shameless #gallavich #gallavich fic #gallavich fluff #ian gallagher

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cheesit-notes · 1 year ago

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Widowed Ghost

Ghost goes through the stages of grief... but only 4.

tags: hurt/virtually no comfort, throwing up, implied ghost didnt eat, or sleep, or take care of himself, 5 stages of grief, reader died, (first time) angst teehee

a/n: writing this made me feel better teehee. anywho, i love reader deaths (love u readers ♡)

widowed Ghost who cannot bring himself to cry when he hears the news. allowed to see you, or at least the hollow husk of you, he’ll glance at the mangled burned body that was once yours with a thousand thoughts yet no words to say. he’ll turn away, unable to face the reality.

for the week leading to your funeral, Ghost cannot, and perhaps purposely does not, process your death. he goes on with life as he usually would. but there are a few moments where he'll call out your name, intending to show you something, talk to you, or just because he wanted your attention. and those moments kill him inside. the silence, the lack of a response, the lack of you, kills him. for a few seconds to minutes at a time, he faces the reality that you're gone. for better or worse, his mind quickly convinces him you're simply busy. and he'll foolheartedly believe it.

Ghost is silent the day of your funeral. he's forced to face the reality that you are gone; not just for a few seconds or moments at a time, but indefinitely. pitiful glances from empathetic faces and softly muttered 'I'm sorry's feel suffocating. he can't- doesn't want to believe it. you, in that god awful box? it can't be true. as cruel as it would be, he wishes this was all some sick joke.

blurred memories of being driven home, walking inside his house, and mindlessly walking into your once shared bedroom. and as he sits on the edge of the bed, it hits him. the cold, harsh reality hits him like a truck. you were gone. and there was nothing he could do about it. he hated this feeling. he hated feeling like a helpless little boy at the mercy of his heartless father; unable to do anything.

tears threaten to fall, his eyes burning to hold them back as he chokes on air. he hasn't cried in so long. always feeling like his problems didn't matter enough to cry. the feeling, it's nauseating. he feels like he's going to throw up.

he stumbles over to the bathroom sink because he knows you aren’t fond of cleaning up vomit after he got too drunk once. he never got that drunk again. he throws up the bits of food he forced himself to eat earlier because you were always worried about the lack of food he used eat. he didn’t want to worry you. and he looks at himself, and thinks he looks pathetic. pale, unkept, dirty, and he believes he's so undeserving of you; this is why you left him. that you left this world behind, left him behind, because he wasn’t enough to keep you here.

he’s mad at you for leaving him, and he’s mad at himself for being so.. him. and god, he thinks if anything was different about him, maybe you’d stay. doesn’t matter to him if you had no say in your own death, all that mattered was that you weren’t here now. reason had no place in a man blinded by pure fury. all he could think about was how unfair it was that you left him, and how he wasn’t enough to have you stay. maybe, he thought, if he was better, if he was anything else than the pathetic excuse of a man, maybe then you’d care a little more and be alive.

the blinded rage continues for hours. it began with thoughts of hatred he had towards you, himself, everything, but slowly began getting physical. he was never taught to use his words to express his feelings so they came out in actions. holding back tears he didn’t know he had, he took his rage out on anything that couldn’t fight back. a table flipped over and broken, chairs laid on their sides, everything pushed and shoved over leaving him standing in the empty space he created.

there’s no dreadful feeling like what he felt standing in the middle of the mess he made. he felt like his father; taking his anger out on things that couldn’t fight back. the arguable difference was the things Ghost took his anger out on wasn’t alive, but what difference did that truly make? perhaps if he had a kid, he would be his father’s replica. and he feared such a thought. with a heavy heart, he slowly put everything back where it once was, because you wouldn’t like the place being a pigsty.

he hates himself for this but for moments at a time, he’s convinced that it’s better you’re gone. he’ll never have to hear you nagging him to eat more, clean up after himself, go take a shower, take a break; never again. he’ll never be woken up by your laughs because you stayed awake, watching videos, for him to sleep. he’ll never be interrupted in anything again.

but who was he kidding? he misses it badly.

he misses hearing you tell him to eat more, threatening to force feed him if you caught him eating less. he misses you shoving him into the bathroom and yelling at him to shower because he stunk and you couldn’t stand the fact he just didn’t take care of his hygiene. he misses you forcibly taking him away from his work; the cruddy attempts of kidnapping him away from base and the way he’d begrudgingly play along. he misses you reassuring him that he could sleep, that you’d keep watch. he misses being woken up by your barely audible laughs, and how you frantically apologized for waking him. he misses resting his head on yours while the two of you stayed awake watching anything. he misses having someone who cared enough about him to do all that and more.

he misses you.

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #lieutenant ghost #ghost angst #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #character death #reader death #read tags!!#hurt no comfort #5 stages of grief but not really #cheesy likes cod?!#i couldnt bring myself to finish this #maybe someday

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sapphire-writes · 2 years ago

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Despite Aemond being a prince, he fell in love with a servant and they have been in secret relationship. Can you please write an angsty fic where he breaks the news to her that he has been announced to have a betrothed? Deep down they know this day would come, but neither are ready to end what they they have created together.

Star Crossed ~ Aemond x Servant!Reader

note: love this request! hope you enjoy it, I'm sorry in advance for the angst! I'm working on more requests now, everyone has such creative prompts these have been so fun! 💚 word count: 1.3k warnings: descriptions of Aemond's eye injury, angst 💚requests are open💚

You had resided in the Red Keep for most of your life, though Aemond did not take notice of you until after the incident that claimed his eye. You were a scullery maid, mostly confined to the kitchens and occasionally the great hall when the cook needed you to rush up a dish that was left behind.

The first time you truly interacted with Aemond, you had been alone in the kitchens and the prince had come walking in. His eye was still in the first stages of healing, the stitches spanning the majority of the left side of his face. The stitching was red, and the cheekbone was swollen. You had tried not to stare as he scowled at you.

“May I assist you with something, my prince?” you ask, wiping your hands on your apron. You curtseyed quickly, elbow knocking a yellow onion to the floor. You felt your face flush with embarrassment.

Aemond sized you up, not yet speaking. You shifted nervously from one foot to the other but did not avoid his gaze. You did not look threatening, simply a child about his age he guessed. He did not recognize you.

“What is your name?” Aemond said, lips barely moving. It pained him to move the muscles of his face so he tried to move his lips minimally when he spoke. It avoided the tugging of his stitches.

“Y/N, my prince,” you told him, smiling earnestly. Aemond did not return the kindness you afforded him. You could feel the smile slipping from your face.

“I wish for a meal,” Aemond told you, and you nodded. Aemond had been avoiding his family, taking his meals in his chambers when he returned from Driftmark. He was bedridden with pain for the majority of the time. He had awoken with hunger pains gnawing at his stomach and a desperate need to leave his chambers. Aemond was not a child who enjoyed being cooped up.

So here he was, down in the depths of the kitchens searching for a meal. He had thought of having food delivered to him in the great hall, but the thought of interacting with people in his maimed state nauseated him. He already could not stand the pitiful looks of lords and ladies.

But your look did not pity him. In fact, when he told you why he had come, you nodded enthusiastically, beckoning him to take a seat. You went over to a large pot and ladled a bowl full of steaming rabbit stew. You brought it over to him with a chunk of bread.

Aemond took a spoonful and brought it to his lips. The liquid burns him and he flinches.

“Careful, my prince,” you said, softly, handing him a handkerchief. Aemond took it, watching as you gathered a bowl for yourself and sat across from him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, taking another bite. Your eyes are kind even when his words mean to be cruel. Aemond does not understand you.

“I do not wish you to eat alone,” you tell him, slurping the stew, “it is terribly lonely.”

Aemond continues to watch you eat before picking up his spoon once more.

“Yes it is,” he agrees.

Aemond joins you in the kitchens for his meals, and you grow quite close. As his eye heals, he begins to cover it with an eyepatch.

“You do not need to wear that around me,” you assure him when his face twists in sadness.

“It upsets ladies,” he tells you, his pale cheeks reddening.

“Well I am not a lady,” you quip back, causing Aemond to give you a stern look.

“You are to me.”

The years go by, and Aemond returns to meals with his family as the humiliation of his wound begins to fade. Aemond grows into his dangerous looks and begins to take pride in the vengeance he seeks for the wrong done against him. He does not stop his visits to you in the kitchen, often breaking his fast with you before he trains early in the morning.

“I brought you something,” he tells you one morning. He slides a small package towards you, wrapped in cheesecloth. You narrow your eyes, taking it from him. As you open it your lips part with shock. A necklace lays in front of you, set with a small sapphire.

“Oh Aemond,” you say, eyes wide, “you’re too good to me.”

He stands and beckons you to turn, helping clasp the necklace around your throat. You aid him by holding your hair out of the way.

“I have several years to make up, to match the kindness you showed me,” he tells you, “you were gentle to me, long before I showed you any affection.”

You turn towards him, hand to your throat.

“You owe me nothing,” you tell him, as he leans down, placing a kiss on your lips. Your whole body tingles. This is not the first time Aemond has kissed you, though you feel as though it will always feel like the first time. The fluttering in your stomach never seems to ease.

When he pulls away he can’t help but smile at your rosy cheeks, the grin that stretches across your face. You are a ray of sunlight on his darkest days. He does not know what he would do, or who he would be without your kindness.

You cannot help but feel giddy when Aemond leaves, still admiring the sapphire pendant that adorns your neck. Though even in your happiness you cannot stop the fear that gnaws at the back of your mind in moments when you are alone with your thoughts. Aemond, your Aemond, is a man of duty, and a prince. He shall be forced to marry sooner or later. You chase the thought away, by keeping yourself busy.

The day comes sooner than you thought.

Aemond comes to the kitchens late in the night. You had waited for him, knowing he journeyed to Storm’s End. You waited in anticipation until he made himself known. You could hear him come down the steps, the sounds of wet leather echoing in the air. You ran to him, throwing yourself into his arms.

Aemond was frozen, soaked to the bone, and you quickly ushered him toward the hearth. He shook off his leather jacket and removed his boots, his face grief-stricken. He would not speak of what occurred, the incident too fresh in his mind.

“I am to marry Floris Baratheon,” he told you, when he finally spoke after a bowl of stew. You froze, eyes wide. Be brave, you told yourself.

“We knew this was going to happen,” you tell him, voice a hushed whisper. You can feel your throat constricting, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Aemond stands coming to face you, bringing his hands to caress your face.

“I do not want her,” he tells you, “she shall be my wife in name, yes, but nothing more.”

“Aemond-” you say, shaking your head.

“Nothing needs to change,” he assures you, and the tears spill over.

“Everything is changing,” you sob, clutching his chest, “what am I to do?”

Aemond holds you against him as you cry, the hot tears mixing with the wetness his shirt still holds from the rain.

“You shall marry, and sire babes, and you shall care for her,” say through your tears, “because you are a kind man, Aemond, a dutiful man.”

Aemond feels his heart breaking in his chest at the sound of your voice, so hopeless.

“I shall take care of you,” Aemond promises, stroking your hair. You close your eyes against him and for a moment allow yourself to believe him. To believe the fantasy that nothing shall change. That you may sit in these kitchens together, eating and laughing, and that he is yours.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #aemond angst #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond oneshot #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen angst

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according2thelore · 9 months ago

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ohhhhh man now you’ve got me brooding over es!sam. it never occurred to me before that among them, he would end up feeling always the square peg in a round hole. the pride and resilience and hope he carried like medals in the first seasons gave him a sense of value and esteem, and i can’t imagine how it feels to be thrown into this inevitability where none of himself remains and in fact the bits he tries to hold onto are an irritant to the quid pro quo in a way nobody will outright honestly explain to him. rather than saving himself and his brother and the world like he thought he would at the end of it all, everywhere he looks is just another form of loss. ls!boys would lap up his es brother, the eager (and adorably naive) hunter with ideas and brawn and something to prove, so much of the same flowing through the blood of all 3 of them, but imagine the grief es!sam feels walking through the cold echoing hallways of the bunker, everything just a nauseating maelstrom of weapons and lore books and charts, no john, no mary, no jess, no wives and no children, no living friends, no presence or interest in the world he always dreamed to blend into, and nobody at his side to truly understand or feel that grief with him. and on top of that the things he feels about dean, complex and ugly and heavy to hold, have somehow been tugged out of him into the open in the future and locked behind a door he has no key to and even touching the knob burns his hand - the derision/amusement of the ls!bros even if they don’t intend it as such, the constant knowing smiles like he isn’t THEM like they don’t know how it feels and how much it suffocates him ohhhh man look what you’ve done to my poor heart with these snippets

YES!!!! ANON!!! YOU GET IT!!!!

first off, your writing is gorgeous?? holy shit?? eating all of your words they are in my mouth now i am sorry

but YES

he would def feel like the odd man out (depending on the season ES!Sam is from) because the other three love the life. they find joy and purpose and meaning in the hunt in a way sam lost. the hunt is a tool. a means to an end.

i think it wouldn't take long for LS!Sam to see the bunker, with the dozens of empty rooms--the shell of a home, only echoes and blades and the collected sum total of knowledge of people long-dead--and ask the group, "is this fucking it?"

no one knows what he's talking about (ES!Dean is so excited because he gets a kickass bunker AND a garage AND an armory AND sammy forever??), but sam is shaking because there are shirts folded in some of the empty rooms' dressers. dead men who thought they'd come back, a physical reminder of every goddamn person they've lost in the endless quest for vengeance. everything sam left for.

"is this all i fucking get?" ES!Sam snaps. "an underground crypt? no wife. no kids. no job. no fucking friends? did the hunt really fucking bury us?"

and everyone goes deadly fucking silent. LS!Dean has to leave the room because it's everything he'd always feared LS!Sam thinks. sam has always needed others more than dean does (or at least, that's what dean thinks, we literally see contradictory evidence in the show but okay). LS!Dean's afraid that sam has always resented him for the way their lives ended up, for dragging sam down with him.

and ES!Dean is crushed because this is his dream. he gets to save lives. he gets to carry dad's legacy. he gets to keep sam, all the unnecessary fluff--a mission to keep them together, girls, obligations--removed. and sam is disgusted by it.

LS!Sam just stares at ES!Sam blankly. he's annoyed with him, before something smaller, something pitying, slips into the shape of his mouth. he gets up to follow LS!Dean, leaving ES!Sam to wallow in his own sick. in this moment, Sam can't even empathize with himself.

and ES!Sam is sitting in the blast radius of his own fury. no one will look him in the eye. LS!Dean looks sick before he leaves the table. no one will answer his questions. no one even tries.

LS!Sam keeps trying to say, "this is what i want, sam. i don't mind. i love what i do, and i love doing it with dean." and all sam can hear is i gave up. i couldn't get out. i'm coping. don't destroy this glass house with a hammer because it's the only home i have left.

and ES!Sam still aches. because ES!Dean is already choosing another sam. LS!Dean looks at him like he has the power to kill him. LS!Sam looks at him like he pities him, which is the deepest cut of all.

poor sam. poor sam who doesn't want to die for this. poor sam who doesn't get us, who isn't us.

LS!Dean, ironically enough, is the closest ES!Sam gets to compassion, but it always feels like blows directed at himself. yeah. it sucks, kid. it fucking blows. i wanted you to get a wife. to get out. i...i tried. i'm sorry. it's more self-recrimination than care.

but GOD! ES!Sam goes for a run and sprints until he throws up because he sees the packed strength of LS!Dean's arms, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. he sees the easy way LS!Sam&Dean laugh with each other, the way they talk with looks alone, the naked adoration. he sees ES!Dean and aches and aches and aches and aches and aches. he needs something he doesn't have the words for, something he's terrified to name, because does that mean that he's giving up? does that mean that he's the fucked up one--perverting this easy life that they all clearly adore?

and even the joy he finds--talking with LS!Dean in the kitchen, sparring with ES!Dean in the gym, enthusing with LS!Sam over texts--there are moments. small ones. where sam realizes that the person talking to him kind of stops, content. he's already part of this system, of this unit. sometimes the pauses feel patronizing. or excited. or so full of tension that sam is already hardening in his jeans. or sad. and it's confusing, but sam is walking down the empty hallways, passing rooms of dead men and seeking out his brother, always his brother, always.

GRAH!!! lonely ES!Sam. bitter ES!Sam. joyful ES!Sam. jealous ES!Sam. possessive ES!Sam. ES!Sam choking on the things he doesn't understand--the things he can't--that have made their lives the way they are.

thank you for this ask, anon! it was beautifully written! and now i am also thinking about this! perpetual motion machine of devouring ES!Sam whole!

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #anon <3

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jiminiecrickets · 1 year ago

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How about (the seven days a week couple) a drabble where oc hangs out with jk and hyungs and they talk about how jk talks about oc so much? And how much jk love's him?

sfw

there have been more than a few drinks. jungkook has been nursing a glass of apple juice for the last hour, lazing about on the back porch steps – he refuses to embarrass himself in front of you and his friends.

"oh, oh – speaking of, do you remember when kookie came home from his first proper date with yn-hyung? he floated around the house with a lovestruck smile on his face for hours!"

"hey, why're we sharing embarrassing stories of me?" jungkook protests as a round of 'ooh's and sage nods pass around the circle. "i thought we collectively agreed to bully taehyung!"

"we've already beaten him up and stolen his wallet and phone," yoongi says with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "it's your turn to sit in the torture chair."

taehyung sticks his tongue out at jungkook, who returns it. "deserved. hey, remember when yn-hyung took us to the beach and kook pushed him into the water? oh, gosh, seeing that body under that white shirt, those arms..." taehyung sighs, fanning himself and batting his eyelashes, morphing his expression into one of wide-eyed poutiness that would look right at home on jungkook. "you were eating sand when his took off his shirt."

jungkook turns to you and smiles. he says politely, "hyung, can you please hold this for me? thank you."

you accept the glass of apple juice with a grin. "go get him, baby."

jungkook stands. "three."

taehyung scrambles to his feet and they roar with laughter as jungkook chases him down, tackling him to the soft grass and messing up his perfect summer curls, which he knows took him hours at the bathroom mirror. "take it back! you take that back! why're you swooning at my boyfriend, huh? just because you're blond doesn't mean you're better than me!"

jimin leans closer to you, seated on the step below yours. he watches with an expression between amusement and incredulity. "he's pretty protective over you, isn't he?"

"i think it's cute," you reply, watching fondly as he throttles his best friend. "i like how he tries to take care of me. see, when he's done, he's going to return like a puppy with a fetch stick and latch onto me. i'm going to be holding his drink for the rest of the night."

"aw," he coos. "you know, he talks about you so much it's almost nauseating – he's always thinking of you, even when he's with us. he could be mid-conversation with namjoon-hyung – and you know how much he adores him – and immediately pivot on the spot to point out your favourite pastry in the bakery window. true story, by the way."

"oh, so i'm still the favourite? good to know – i won't have to fight my boyfriend's boyfriend any time soon."

jimin laughs into his palm, curling it up and resting his cheek on it as jungkook trots back towards you with a pleased smile. taehyung groans amongst the grass and the daisies.

"well, does anyone else have any stories where they'll inadvertently reveal that they've been looking at my partner with nefarious intentions?" jungkook huffs, plopping back next to you. he curls his arms around your elbow, leaning against your shoulder. "he's mine. i found him first."

jimin snorts. "he's not a pokemon, jungkook. you don't get to play finders-keepers with him."

"sure i can. look." he lifts his head, staring you right in the eye. "if anyone – anyone, including and especially the people present right now – ever tries to take you away from me, you tell me, okay? i'll deal with them."

limping back to the circle, taehyung flops down with a groan. hoseok pats his back symathetically. "all i did was compliment his boyfriend and he was about to drop my body in a lake. you better be loyal, yn-hyung, or i guarantee you'll face a fate worse than grass stains."

"if i ever fail, you better drop my body in a lake," you tell jungkook with a soft smile, "because that was an impostor."

he hums, leaning in and tilting his head to kiss you sweetly. you ignore the many gags and groans around you. "deal."

#asks #jungkook x male reader #seven days a week

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moa-broke-me · 1 year ago

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I was tired.

I gripped my arms tighter around myself, shivering against the freezing pelts of rain, protected only by my baggy shirt. As I passed a store window, I caught a reflection of myself. My lips were blue.

I ducked into the 24 hour drugstore and gas station next to me, and tried to warm myself up a little by the coffee machine. The smell made me nauseated with hunger, so once i wasn't freezing to death, I left to grab the cough syrup off of the shelf, and a cup of instant ramen. Closest thing I could find to chicken noodle soup, and all it needed was a little hot water. We had that at the house, at least. I knew I'd get hungry again feeding her, so I snatched some cigarettes too, just to dull down the urgent pangs that had been growing in my stomach the last two weeks.

I tucked both of the items tight against my arms, and was about to leave, when the automatic doors opened.

Oh no. Was that... Batman?

I fell onto the floor and curled into a ball, begging him not to beat me up. But I knew it was no use; he hated criminals, and I was a criminal.

When I forced one of my eyes open, he was kneeling beside me, with the cough syrup and he noodle cup tucked into his arms. "How old are you?" He demanded gruffly.

I tried desperately not to cry, not to appear any weaker and more vulnerable than I already did. "Um..." I couldn't think of a lie, so I figured I should answer honestly. "... E-eight. I'll be nine in January."

"Yeah, I'm not beating up an eight year old. Not even if they kill someone."

I curled into myself. "A-aren't you mad at me? For... T-trying to steal?"

"I'm mad that you feel the need to." He answered. "The fact that you're out here at all, when it's this late. The fact that it's November and you don't even have a jacket on." He unsnapped his cape with one hand and draped it over me.

I hesitantly snapped it over me. It felt like that waterproof fabric umbrellas were made of, at least on the outside. The inside was fluffy and fleece-lined. "Th-thank you." I forced myself to stand up, legs shaking underneath me. "So, if you weren't looking for criminals to beat up, why were you here?"

"I was just getting some snacks for my driver and I. Running low on gas." Despite his intimidating cowel, I felt I had no choice but to believe him. "What were you doing here?"

I sighed shakily. "M-my little sister has a cold, a really bad one. I just need that medicine and soup for her, and then I'll be home again."

"I see... And why were you the one to go on this fetch quest? Where are your parents, or whoever's responsible for you?"

"My d-daddy's at home, but he... He doesn't do that kind of thing."

The man sighed. "I see. What does he do, then?"

"Um... Works, sometimes. Sleeps on the couch. Punishes us when we're bad."

His expression was hard to read with the mask on. "... What counts as 'bad'?"

I shrugged, holding myself. "I-I'm not sure. Being too loud, too quiet. Crying. Eating too much, not eating what he tells us to. Or..." I felt a chill run down my spine. "O-or telling anybody." I would be in a world of trouble when I got home.

His posture was stiff as he reached out to me. I didn't want to flinch when his hand reached my back, but I did. I didn't want to cry, but I was crying anyway.

He gently prodded me closer, and I stepped until my cheek was laying on his waist.

Eventually, he spoke again. "Would you like to come live with me?" He asked.

I did. No matter how scary he was, I'd take him over my dad any day. He seemed like he cared about me.

But...

"... I don't wanna leave her behind." I sniffled.

"You can bring her too. We'll stop at your address and let you get her, and anything else you'd like to take."

I nodded.

"There. Now, is there anything else you need from here? And please don't say cigarettes, I'm not buying an eight year old cigarettes."

I thought for a moment, before nodding. "Um, can I get a cup of hot chocolate?"

He nodded and went over to the coffee stand, which had a station for hot chocolate. I went out and picked up a lemon poppyseed muffin. It was bigger than my fist, and I silently went up to the hero I'd just met, and slipped it in with everything else.

He paid with cash, I guess to keep his secret identity a... Well... Secret, and as soon as everything was paid for, I started eating my muffin, only pausing to lift the cape over my head as we went to the parking lot. I slid into the backseat of the batmobile, my hot chocolate already in the drink holder.

"Alfred, I went ahead and got you werther's again." He held out a bag of caramel candy. "I know you like those."

"Thank you, Master Wayne." He replied. "Who's that in the backseat? Did you find yet another troubled little boy to call your own?"

"Guilty. What's your name, by the way? I never caught it."

"N-Nico." I answered. "Nico diAngelo."

"Right. Where's your old address, Nico? You said you had a sister to pick up."

I told him before shoving the last of the muffin in my mouth and sipping on the hot chocolate. "Do you have a baby seat?" I asked. "Sh-she's only two."

I watched Alfred's face scrunch in thought for a moment in the rear view mirror. "I believe so. Hold on."

He pressed a button, and suddenly, the center seat flipped out into a baby seat, built into the car. "Wow... I knew you had gadgets, but... Wow."

"Alfred?" He asked. "When did we get that installed?"

"I figured it was only a matter of time before you'd need it."

It wasn't long before we were at my dad's house. I quickly ducked out and snuck inside, making sure to avoid any of the floorboards that creak. Soon, I was back at my bed, where Hazel was sleeping, wrapped in my jacket. It was the closest thing she had to a baby blanket.

"baba?" She asked weakly, coughing.

I smiled. "I'm here, Hazel." I picked her up, still bundled in the jacket, and tried not to trip over the cape as I went back out again, covering both of us with Batman's waterproof cape.

I slipped in and sat her in the baby seat, pouring the little cup full of cough syrup and holding it to her mouth, but she wasn't having any of it. She fussed and cried and shook her head, but I pleaded with her anyway. "Hazy, please. It'll make you feel better."

She smacked the little cup out of my hand, crying her little lungs out.

And cough syrup splattered everywhere.

I froze. I didn't know what to say, I was horrified.

I began to hyperventilate. "Oh my god I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry, I ruined everything! The floor and the seats and... And your cape! Oh, I messed up your cape, it must've been so expensive, everything must've been so expensive and I got cough syrup all over it- I'm so sorry, please don't take us back to dad, please don't leave us in the woods, I'm sorry, I'll make up for it I promise! I-I..." I stopped talking when I heard the words 'pull over, and just curled up into myself, shaking and crying. It was no use, this was it, I've crossed the line-

"Breathe, Nico." His mask was off now, and I thought I recognized him from a magazine somewhere. "Breathe in for four seconds, alright?"

I tried to follow along, but it was hard working around the tightness in my chest.

"Alright, you're doing good. Hold it for seven seconds, can you do that?"

That was easier. I held my breath and counted to seven, looking to him for the next step.

"Now, out for eight seconds, ok kid?"

I nodded, and slowly let my breath out.

"There we go, just keep doing that until you feel better."

I looked up at him. "... How did you...?"

"Picked it up from Dr. Quinzell before she went with the circus. She was my grief counsellor way back when. I don't have panic attacks like that nearly as often anymore, but it still helps."

"Panic attack?"

"Yeah. Y'know, when you're so scared you can't breathe, or talk, or move? It feels like you're just... Frozen."

I considered his words for a moment. "... I thought that's just what being scared felt like." He looked incredibly sad just then, and I didn't understand why, but I felt like I'd done something wrong. "I'm sorry-"

"You don't have anything to apologize for. And I mean anything."

"N... N-not even spilling all the cough syrup?" I asked.

"Hey, accidents happen. That's why I have Alfred."

"And that's why I deserve a raise." He added.

"Yeah, you're getting one. Just like you got one with Grayson, and Cassie, and all the others."

He closed the door again, and went back to his seat. I began tending to Hazel, who was crying a little. I held her hand. "There we go, Hazy." I kissed her cheek. "My little hazelnut."

She cooed a little.

I kissed her chubby little baby hand, before turning back to the man who rescued me. "Who are they?" I asked.

"Hm? Oh, Cassie and Grayson? Just two of the kids I took in. My name's Bruce, by the way."

I hummed. "... How many have you taken in?" I asked.

Bruce shrugged. "Total of... Six. Or, I suppose eight now, counting you two. I'm sure you and them'll get along just fine, but we can hold off the meet and greet until you're ready. It's been a long night for you, hasn't it?"

I sighed. "Kinda, yeah."

We started moving again. I picked up my cup of hot chocolate, which was more like warm chocolate by now, and drank the last swig or so. I was lucky the syrup didn't end up inside.

When we reached the manor, Alfred picked Hazel up from her baby seat, and I felt my anxiety spike.

He must've noticed. "I'll make sure Madam Hazel is well taken care of." He assured me. "Trust me, I'm a professional."

I smiled a little bit. "Thank you, sir."

I got out and let him lead me to the front. He walked me down the hall, and showed me to my new room.

I laid down and sunk into the plush pillows and comforter, and I was out like a light.

@via-rant I've started this thing for real! You can add onto it if you want <3 We could even move it to AO3, I'll put you down as a co-creator

#pjo x dc x marvel #dc x marvel #pjo x marvel #pjo x dc #closest I'll ever come to the comic book fandom #pjo #nico di angelo #hazel levesque #batman #alfred pennyworth

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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 11 months ago

Text

Memories of Defeat (pt 4/4)

An In Stars and Time retrospective that revolves around everyone's favorite star. Major "secret ending"/epilogue spoilers below the cut!!

[Start from Part One here.]

Once upon a time, there were two brothers: one made of light, and one made of meat.

The elder brother was capable. Resourceful. He’s the one who had to point the way. Even if he was lost, or exhausted, or hungry and scared and alone, he didn’t have a choice. There was nowhere left for him to go. So he died! He died on purpose!! He’d rather be dead!!! Anything would be better than this!!!!

The younger brother burrowed out of their sibling’s ribcage. They were afraid, too, but they weren’t hungry. How could they be? They were born from a banquet of muscle and bone. Fermented in a womb of fresh-spilled blood.

The younger brother swallowed their elder. They swallowed his liver and his entrails, his heart and lungs and light. Everything good that was ever inside him would be theirs now. Then they wiped their mouth and howled their loneliness into the stars. Why did it have to be like this? What can’t I remember? Why am I so alone???

The night sky looked down and said, Because I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hope you eat shit and die. Die unloved and alone. It’s what you deserve.

But I didn’t do anything wrong! the younger brother wailed, pathetically, and also totally blinding hypocritically because they literally just ate their only kin, like, ten minutes ago. I only wanted to be loved!!!

Cool, the Universe said. Try telling someone who cares.

* * *

There’s no room for Loop in the caravan.

Which is fine. Preferable, even. It’s not as though they’re particularly eager to spend the night two inches away from the nation’s most nauseating lovebirds.

Siffrin insists on pitching a tent for them. That’s fine, too. It’s a free country. Siffrin can do whatever he wants. It doesn’t mean that Loop actually has to sleep there.

(They can’t even look at it. It smells like the past. Like the hole in their chest.)

They sleep on the ground, with a scarf draped over their eyes. They don’t want to look at the stars.

* * *

Loop’s eyes snap open a few minutes before sunrise. There’s someone watching them.

“You’re not sneaky,” they announce, without looking up. “I’m not one of your oblivious little friends. You can’t hide from me. I’m better at it, anyway.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to.”

“You know it’s pointless trying to lie to me.”

“…Yeah.”

Loop rolls their eyes. He’s the one who won, isn’t he? So why does he always go around acting like a sopping wet cat left out in the rain? “What do you want, stardust.”

“I’m deciding if I have to give you our cloak,” Siffrin admits.

That gets their attention. Loop sits up, intrigued.

Siffrin tucks their chin behind their collar. “It seems maybe… right? Um. Morally. But I really don’t want to.”

“Aww, stardust. You think I want that ratty old thing?”

“Of course.”

…Of course.

Loop smiles sunnily. “I bet you think I’m going to say something like, Ohh, you don’t have to do that. It’s the thought that counts! That you even considered it is more than enough for me!”

Siffrin looks hopeful. Stupid little beast. How were a hundred bloody deaths still not enough to wring all the optimism out of them?

“Well, maybe I won’t! We don’t all find you so charming, you know. Maybe I do want it! It was mine first!”

Siffrin’s face scrunches miserably. As they reach for the clasp that holds their collar shut, the first gleam of dawn catches on a silver coin, still pinned to their lapel.

…Ugh. “It’s fine, okay? It’s not even my style anymore. Anyway, I got to keep both our eyes, so. Who’s the loser here, really?”

Siffrin opens their mouth.

“If you answer that, I’m taking the cloak just so I can throw it in the river.”

Siffrin closes their mouth. But they don’t walk away. They just keep standing there, staring.

“Stars, what?” Loop demands. “Have you got some more restitutions for me? Going to give me your other eye?”

Siffrin shakes his head. “It’s just, um. Loop.”

“What?”

“No, I mean the name. ‘Loop.’ Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Stars, it’s one thing after another with you! Talk about intrusive! Do you do this with all your little friends, or it just me you can’t trust to make a single blinding decision for myself?”

Siffrin scuffs the heel of their boot through the dirt. “It just… doesn’t seem fair.”

“Oh, you figured it out, did you!! Ve~ry clever, stardust! It is unfair! Much like everything else in this miserable world! Nothing was ever going to be fair! What do you want me to do about it? Well? Go on! I’d love to hear your brilliant solution!”

Siffrin just keeps standing there, silent.

Loop’s fingernails dig into their palms. “Do you think I should be Siffrin again? Is that it? You think we should both be Siffrin? I’m sure that won’t confuse anyone. When your pet Fighter calls your name and the both of us come running.”

“...It would get confusing.”

“I’m not him anymore, anyway,” Loop spits. “They’re dead. You should know. You’re the one who killed them. And killed them and killed them and killed them and killed them! And—if I can be honest? Good blinding riddance!! You think I liked being you? Being some desperate, needy little freak with no past and no future?” They let out a tinkling laugh. “Get over yourself, stardust. Frankly, I’d rather die.”

“I’m not saying you should be me,” Siffrin says quietly. “I just mean… Loop, specifically. It doesn’t seem a little… masochistic?”

Loop blinks at them.

“I know you’re not me,” Siffrin says again. “Or even the me you used to be. But you’re not the loops, either. They’re just—something that happened to us.”

Loop rolls their eyes. “You escape one time loop and suddenly you’re a qualified therapist?”

“Do you really like it, though?”

…Well. Well of course they don’t blinding like it. But it’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s funny, isn’t it? Just like them!! Soooo~ funny!!!

“…Loop?”

“I don’t like it,” Loop hisses. “But. It’s… not as though I like anything else. And it’s. Familiar.”

Siffrin nods. Even he can understand that much. This world’s Siffrin may have had it easy—like, really, ridiculously, embarrassingly easy—but both of them went years without finding anything familiar. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“And you know you can change your mind.”

“Hard as it may be to believe, I am, in fact, fully capable of thinking for myself! But thanks ever so much for trying to dictate another aspect of my life! I was starting to worry that I might actually have to be a real person!”

Siffrin frowns. “You’re a real person.”

“Oh, for Stars— Haven’t you done enough? I’m exhausted. You’re exhausting.” They flop back in their bedroll, draping the scarf back over their eyes. “Just leave me alone, stardust. It’s what you do best.”

[You dreamed that you were drowning. Even now, you still can’t catch your breath.]

There’s an old fairytale, back in (don’t think it DON’T THINK IT IT HURTS) about the saddest man in the world. He’s so miserable, so totally consumed by his hurt that he can’t even talk about it, because no one would ever understand. He is utterly alone in his grief.

So the world’s saddest man makes a wish. He wishes for a copy of himself! Someone else, someone new, who might reflect the emptiness inside him.

But the copy is too good. Much, much better than the man ever was. There’s no bitterness inside it because, for as long as it’s lived, it’s always had him. It never had to learn how it feels to be alone.

The man hates it. He hates it. He can't stand to see it walking around, smiling and laughing and failing and trying. So he lures it back into his study. He gives it a smile. He opens his arms.

It’s still smiling at him, trusting, when he drives the knife into its chest.

The man drinks the light from its veins and swallows the wish in its heart. He leaves it empty empty empty. And do you know what?? In the end, when he’s left shuddering in a puddle of blood and spattered viscera, nothing has changed!! There’s nothing different at all!!! He still isn’t any less alone!!!!!

* *

* * *

The morning after the party sets out from Bambouche, Loop wakes up to find Bonnie standing over them.

“How come you don’t glow anymore?” they ask bluntly.

Loop blinks. “Oh. Um. W-Well, it was wreaking havoc on my beauty sleep. Looking this good doesn’t come cheap, you know! It’s practically a full-time job!”

“But how? What happened to your sparkles?”

“They… washed off?” It is sort-of true. For a while after Siffrin set them free, Loop wasn’t anywhere at all. When they finally gasped awake, they were neck-deep in the same black, frigid water that carried them to Vaugaurde, all those years ago. Except this world’s Siffrin already took the boat. Loop had to claw their way to shore with their own two hands.

Bonnie looks disappointed. What else is new? Water is wet and Loop is disappointing. “That sucks. It was cool. But I guess it’s good you can sleep now. Being tired sucks too.”

Loop’s mouth ticks up. “I’ll tell you a secret,” they find themself saying. “But only if you won’t tell Siffrin.”

“DEAL.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah!!”

“Super promise?”

“Of course!!!!”

“Super duper promise?”

Bonnie flaps their arms. “You gotta tell me right now or I’m gonna explode!!!!!”

Loop looks left and right, conspiratorial, before beckoning them close enough to whisper in their ear. “...I can still glow a little.”

“What!!!!!”

“Shh!!”

“Ahem!” Boniface clears their throat. “Ahem, hem. Of course what I meant was: forsooth, how doth you, um. Glow?”

Wow, they really have been going to school. Loop’s mouth ticks up. They might not be the real Boniface, but they’re still way too cute. “Okayyyy, okay. You wore me down! I can’t hold out any longer! I have no choice but to confess!”

“Yeah,” Bonnie agrees, scowling fiercely.

“Okay, check this out.” Loop scoops a fistful of dust from the ground beside their bedroll and holds it in front of their nose. Their eyes scrunch. Their face puckers—

—and they sneeze a spray of sparks into their palm.

Bonnie’s eyes light up. “What!! What!!!! You sneeze light?????”

“Not always,” Loop explains. They still don’t really understand why it happens. It’s not as though the Universe ever deigned to explain. “And don’t tell anyone! It’s our secret, okay?”

“But why!!! It’s cool!!!!!”

“Haha, well. Sometimes people don’t like things that are cool.”

“But it’s shiny!!!!”

Loop smiles wryly. “Sometimes people don’t even like things that are shiny.”

Bonnie’s shoulders sag a little. “But that’s… That stinks.”

(Do NOT make Bonnie sad.) “Oh, no, i-it’s not bad! It’s, um, cool! Like having superpowers! Or a secret identity or something!”

“It is bad!” Bonnie snaps back at them. “People are so stupid!! I think your sparks are cool!!!”

For a second, Loop almost forgets to laugh. “Haha! Well, I commend your exemplary taste. But there’s no need to worry about me, Bonb– Boniface. I’m doing just fine!”

Bonnie frowns at them. “Frin says that sometimes.”

The nickname nearly knocks the smile off their face. “...Is that right.”

“But usually only when they’re not.”

“Well. I wouldn’t think too hard about it. Siffrin is pretty stupid.”

“You’re his friend, though.”

(…Are they?) “Of course!”

“So maybe you’re stupid too.”

Loop chokes on a laugh. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re sort of scary-smart?”

“No,” Bonnie says promptly. “Mostly they say I have learning disabrilties. ‘Cause my brain is bad at words.”

“Well,” Loop tells them, confidential. “Don’t tell your sister, but between you and me… I think the people who say that might be even stupider than me.”

“Pffft— You can’t say that about teachers!! They’re in charge!!!”

“Not of me, they’re not.”

Bonnie stares for a second before breaking into a radiant, gap-toothed smile. “You’re cool, Loop.”

“I— Ah?” For the first time in several lifetimes, Loop finds themself at a loss for words.

“It’s okay!” Bonnie says generously. “Frin doesn’t know what to do when people are nice to them either. You don’t hafta say anything. You can just know you’re cool and not even say anything.”

Not as cool as YOU! That’s what they could have said. But of course it’s always already too late. “Um…”

“I’ll leave you alone!!” Bonnie shouts in their face. “Cause Nille says I’m bossy which is a strenth but sometimes means I have to give people space so they can decide if they wanna keep hanging out or not! But I’m glad you came back!! ‘Cause Frin and Za are all gross and lame now, so it’s cool to have someone cool!!”

“H-Haha. Well. I’ll… try to meet your expectations?”

“You don’t hafta worry ‘bout that,” Bonnie scoffs. “You already sneezed glitter.”

* * *

When the party meets Madame Odile at the crossing, she looks at Loop very, very closely. She shakes their hand politely enough. But she doesn’t approach them directly until later, after the Fighter’s already turned in for the night and Boniface is fast asleep.

“Loop,” she greets them. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to discuss it in front of everyone, but I wanted to tell you that I’m very glad to see you again. I’d been hoping for a chance to give you my thanks. I know I was a bit, ah, preoccupied when last we met… But it seems we owe you a great debt. Siffrin’s life, for one. Not to mention the state of our physical world.”

Loop bites back a sigh and readies the usual spiel. Haha, yes, that’s me! Eternally helpful etcetera etcetera! I can see that you’ve noticed the new look; would you believe, it’s actually a very funny story—

“And Siffrin,” Odile says levelly. She doesn’t look away. “It seems we owe you an apology.”

Loop chokes. “Aha? Haha, um… I think you’ve… perhaps… mistaken me for someone? H-Haha, ah… Maybe in your old age, your eyes have finally—“

“She knows,” Sif blurts out, from across the fire. “Sorry. I had to tell her. She’d already mostly figured it out.”

“Not when it might have counted,” Odile says ruefully.

“Which would be….?”

Odile looks at them like they’re stupid. “Obviously, when it still could have saved you.”

OHHHkay. Hahaha, okay!! So they’re just going to talk about that!!! She’s just going to look at them with remorse in her eyes, and regret, like she can actually see them!! Like she thinks it’s not their own blinding fault that everything went—

“…Siffrin?”

“Don’t call me that.” That’s someone else now.

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Hmh. Well. I think it probably isn’t.”

“What do you know?” S— Loop snaps. “No, let me guess. Because you’re old, you think you must be wise? Well, I do hate to be the one to tell you this, but I’m afraid that’s just not how it works. I would know.”

“Of course,” she says again, backing off. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want anyone’s apologies. It’s not like there’s anything any of you could have done.”

“Hmh,” she says. Probably thinks she’s being diplomatic. Maybe she would be, if she were talking to someone as stupid as Siffrin.

“And I’m not—” The words lodge in their throat. Loop is seized by the violent urge to take a deep breath, but just thinking about it makes them want to peel their skin off.

They can feel Odile’s eyes on them, assessing. “...What was she like?”

“Wh-What?”

“Me,” she explains. “The one that you knew.”

...Oh. “Different,” Loop admits. “And… the same? You—or. She never figured it out, like you did. But I think maybe she might’ve. If I’d been less—” Weak. Spineless. Pathetic.

“Tch,” Odile scoffs. “Doesn’t matter what she might have done, if she didn’t.”

Loop blinks.

For once in her life, Odile actually looks embarrassed. “Ah. My apologies. I only mean that… I’m sorry that I was so useless.”

She startles when Loop barks a laugh. “You—haha!!! Hahaha!!!! You’re sorry! For being useless!!! That’s—no, no, it’s very funny!!”

Because their Odile could have been plenty useful, if they hadn’t been such a blinding coward. If they’d trusted her enough to let her in. But they didn’t, and now the Odile that Loop loved is gone. She needed them and S— Loop couldn’t take the heat. They gave up. They left her behind.

“I’m not sure I get the joke,” Odile says quietly.

“Well! It’s not exactly your strong suit, is it!”

Madame Odile studies their face, frowning. Then, disconcertingly, her gaze flicks toward Siffrin.

“Don’t look at them,” Loop snarls. Instinct thuds in their ears, take it back take it back TAKE IT BACK—

—but they won’t. What would be the point?

“Did you think we’d be the same?” they ask, sneering. Contempt dripping from every word like blood from the tip of a blade. “That you’d have one more cute little Siffrin tiptoeing around, hiding and crying and lying to people? Well! I’m ever so sorry to disappoint, but I think you’ll find otherwise. Oh, but don't get the wrong idea! It's not just me, teehee! We're both soooo~ much worse than you think."

“…Is that right.”

In another life, Loop let the King squeeze Bonnie into bloody pulp. They let the King throw Mira around like a ragdoll. They lied and lied and lied till they were sick with it, till their throat scorched black and their tongue dripped silver. They smiled and let her die and die and die.

“It really is!” They flash a bright, brittle smile. “How many times do you think I let you die, Madame? Would you like to take a guess?”

“I would not.”

“Too easy? I’ll try another, then. How many times do you think I killed you?”

She doesn’t flinch. Every muscle in her body deliberately Doesn’t Flinch. “...Loop.”

“Madame~?”

“I like your jewelry.”

“I—um?”

“Did you make it yourself?”

“I… did, yes.” When Loop finally clawed their way out of the sea, they had every intention of lying there until they died. But it wasn’t long before they were found. Apparently they’d washed ashore just a stone’s throw from a beachcomber’s hut: an artisan whose dilapidated hovel glittered with gleaming fusions of glass and stone and rusted steel.

Loop’s savior never spoke. Maybe they couldn’t. But their quick, clever hands could turn the ugliest, most disintegrating flotsam into inimitable treasures.

“Impressive.” Madame Odile says coolly, nodding. “Siffrin never had the knack for that sort of thing. Carving wood with physical tools is one thing, but mixing media? And across different Craft types, no less? That’s very advanced Crafting.”

“I—ah? Or, I mean… it’s not like it’s hard…”

“You may just have the knack,” Odile informs them. “Not everyone does. It’s a valuable skill, nonetheless.”

“R-Right.”

Madame Odile yawns. “Forgive me. I’m too old to be up this late. But I’ll see you tomorrow, I expect. And, ah—I suspect you don’t care to hear this sort of thing, but—I really am grateful. Truly.”

And before they can even begin to consider their reply, she’s vanished into her tent.

* *

* * *

Have you heard this one before? A Traveler walks into a House. Says, Housemaiden, I'm depressed. I can't find the joy in anything. I can't connect with people. I can’t feel ANYTHING. I can't eat, I can't sleep. No, I mean, literally, it’s been eons since I slept. The insides of my eyelids are brighter than the sun. It’s like a fireworks show in here.

Housemaiden says, You should talk to the Savior of Vaugarde. They’re soooo cute and special and pretty and perfect and everyone loves them no matter how many times they ruin everything by being a stupid little freak who can’t even talk right. I bet they could give you some advice!

The Traveler puts their head in their hands and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs. Says, But Housemaiden! I -am- the Savior of Vaugarde!!!!

Aaa~nyway, they kill her and eat her heart. And would you believe? It doesn’t make them feel anything!!!!!!

[you’re fine you’re fine you’re fine you’re—]

—fine. You’re totally fine. It’s a clear, bright morning, the breeze brisk and playful, and walking into Dormont doesn’t make you feel sick. The smell of flowers and pastries and juniper doesn’t make you want to vomit. The spiraled roof and crenelled towers of the House don’t turn your breakfast to stone in your stomach. Looking down the path through the trees doesn’t make you want to pull your spine out through your mouth. You’re fine.

Why wouldn’t you be? Just because you abandoned this place? Just because it killed you? No. No. You’re toooo~tally fine. You’re being so normal about this.

A few steps from the House’s gate, Siffrin jerks his hand out of the Fighter’s and throws up. Pathetic. You step into their line of sight to make sure they can see you roll your eyes. They were always soooo~ sensitive.

* * *

Siffrin refuses to enter the House, because they’re a delicate flower who insists on making their damage everyone else’s problem. Loop, of course, never had that privilege.

* * *

“Ugh!” Mirabelle huffs, scowling down at her pottery wheel. “I’ve ruined it again! Siffrin, would you—”

She stops short.

“I-I’m so sorry!!” she squeaks, one hand flying to her mouth. “I meant Loop, of course!! Sorry!! That was so rude; I promise I wasn’t thinking of someone else, it’s just that you… remind me of them, sometimes? N-Not because you’re from the same country! The King was, too, and he felt very very different!! The two of you just… feel sort of similar, is all. The way you take up space, and… the things that catch your eye… It’s almost like you’re—” She shakes her head vigorously. “Ohh, never mind!! I know it doesn’t make any sense!! ”

To Loop’s horror, they can feel their eyes start to itch. Oh, Stars. It’s the worst thing imaginable. They absolutely cannot cry.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean— I-I’m so sorry!!!” Mira’s hands flit toward them before landing in her lap. “I shouldn’t have said anything; I didn’t mean to make things even worse, I— Do you want a, a… cup of tea? Or some cookies?”

Don’t worry! Loop tries to tell her. I’m completely fine, haha! No problems here! I’m probably just allergic to ceramics!!!! Unfortunately, the best they can manage is, “No Thank You.”

“I—!!” Mirabelle squares her jaw, both hands clenching in the fabric of her skirt. “Loop. Is there, maybe, some way I can help you? I know you don’t think much of us, but we owe you so much!!”

Loop looks away. “You… think I don’t think much of you.”

“Oh. W-Well, um. We… never saw you again, after you helped us save Siffrin. And they’d go quiet anytime we tried to ask about you, so I—I wasn’t sure if—”

“Mira,” Loop says. They take a moment to collect their thoughts. “...Mirabelle.”

“Y-Yes?”

“That’s not a very reliable gauge for what someone thinks of you.”

Mira’s eyes widen.

“For all you know, I might’ve thought the world of you,” they go on, uncharacteristically reckless. “Anyone might. People disappear all the time! They hide, or they die, or they… go somewhere else. It doesn’t mean they never cared. It only means that they cared about something else, too. Or they cared a little too much. Or they’re dead, teehee!”

Mirabelle pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at her nose. “I-I’m sorry… I know you’re only here for our sakes, and now I’m being nothing but trouble…”

Um. What? “I’m here for what?”

“W-Well, um… I guess I thought you’d come to visit because Siffrin told you how upset we were, after you disappeared? Because you saved us—saved everyone—and then we couldn’t even thank you?”

“…What?”

Mira blinks at them, her disorientation mirroring their own. “Which part are you confused by…?”

For the first time in several eternities, Loop lifts a hand to their chest. They take a deep breath in, and out. “H-Haha. I guess, all of it? I certainly didn’t save anyone. Much less everyone.”

“But you did!!!”

“Uh…”

Mira’s eyes widen. “Ohhh,” she gasps, “I see. You don’t like that, do you?”

“—Um?”

“People giving you compliments and things. Praising the things you accomplished, as though you were some sort of storybook hero. When you know that what happened was much less heroic, and much more… accidental. Embarrassing.”

Oh. Huh. Loop had never thought about it in so many words. Probably because no one's ever tried to give them a compliment. But now that she mentions it... yeah. Maybe they can sort of relate.

“I’m sorry,” Mira says again, looking despondent. She slaps both palms against her cheeks. “Sorry!! I won’t do it again!! You just want to feel normal, right? So let’s—let’s Craft some clay!”

“If you’re sure,” Loop says faintly. (Calm down. You’re freaking her out. For once in your life just BE NORMAL.) “…But don’t take it personally if I turn out to be pretty good at this. I have it on high authority that I may have something of a knack.”

* * *

They keep it together for the rest of the afternoon. They finish Crafting their vase and help Mirabelle patch the weak points on hers, smoothing rough edges and pressing air pockets so it won’t shatter in the kiln.

They make it all the way to the bathroom before their smile drops.

The bathroom’s undergone some renovations since the last time they broke down here. Now tiny clay figures dance over the sink, and childish painted murals adorn the doors. A little Change God stands guard over each stall: waving its clumsy arms, kicking its stumpy legs. Its eyes are obscured, its expression unreadable. Its face is laughing. Leering. Mocking. What does it see when it looks at them? A memory? A means to an end? Or only a ghost?

Loop reaches out and takes it in their hands. The Craft that animates it makes it squirm like a worm on a hook. Loop doesn’t pity it. It’s only fair. The Change God never pitied them, either.

“Was it fun?” they whisper, as they squeeze. “Did you have fun? What about now? Are you having fun yet?”

Wet clay oozes between their fingers. The statue twitches and jerks. Loop’s chest feels hot. Their skull hums like a nest of wasps. Lumpy paper swollen with stinging hate.

“I’m having fun,” they tell the wriggling godling, smiling wide. They can’t even tell if they’re lying. To make the distinction, they’d probably need something to compare it to.

The wriggling slows. The heat of Craft fades as the statue goes limp in their hands.

Loop opens their palms. There’s no god there anymore. Only dead, lifeless clay.

They flick open the lock and shoulder through the door.

Outside the stall, there’s someone waiting. Watching. Staring straight at them.

Loop flinches. The stranger looks familiar, but also not. Like maybe Loop’s seen them before, but only in a dream.

—Claude. That’s who it is. Mirabelle’s roommate, Claude. (And who says they don’t have a good memory!)

Claude narrows her eyes. “…Did you just mulch that statue?”

Loop looks down at their hands, crusted with molten clay.

“People work hard on those,” Claude informs them.

Loop has already used up all their willpower for the day. They don’t have the strength to stop themself rolling their eyes. “People work hard on lots of things.”

Her eyebrows go up. “I could report you.”

“Please do,” Loop spits; and in one fluid movement, they’ve whirled around and flung themself out the bathroom window.

They’re three stories up, but they’re not worried about the fall. Worst-case scenario, they’ll drive their blades into the mortar and grind to a halt before they splat on the ground. Best-case, they die on impact.

[You dreamed you were being eaten alive. You can still feel the crunch and grind of tearing cartilage. The way the sinews stretch before they snap.]

Siffrin is fishing by the river. Just looking at the rod in their hands makes Loop want to throw up. They snapped that rod in half once. Tore it out of the fisherperson’s hands and broke it clean over their knee. And then they threw it in the river. And then then jumped in after it.

It’s not just the total futility of it all. It’s the whole process. Catching a thrashing, squirming being in your hands and squeezing the life out of it. Aligning your blade with the seam of its gills, just behind the thrum of its throat. Staring into those gaping eyes, that gulping mouth as you press down hard and harder. Careful, now! If you hit the angle wrong, you’ll miss the artery entirely! It’ll take ages to die! Minutes that stretch into eternities. Gasping, gulping, choking on the hot slick slurry of your own black blood.

Loop shudders. “…I can’t believe you can still touch that thing.”

Siffrin hums thoughtfully. “I think it’s the only thing that never got worse.”

“Ew. Or, I mean. Can’t relate.”

“Well,” Siffrin says. “We were always pretty different.” They flick the rod expertly, sending the fly dancing over the surface. “How’s Mira?”

“She recognized me.”

That gets their attention. “She what?”

“Not specifically,” Loop admits. “But. She said I felt… familiar. Like…” The words lodge in their throat. It doesn’t matter. Siffrin knows what they mean.

“…Hm.”

“Aw,” Loop purrs, mocking. “Does that scare you? Is it scary, to know that you could be so easily replaced?”

“No,” Siffrin says right away. “I guess I feel… relieved?”

(…What?) “Why.”

“I wasn’t sure they’d know me,” Siffrin shrugs. “You, I mean. Us. I wasn’t sure they’d even want to, if we were being… less careful.”

Loop bristles. “I’m more careful than you could ever imagine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Yeah, no, they’re really not.

“So it’s… comforting,” Siffrin shrugs. “To think they’d still like us, even if we were—“

“What? A failure? A ghost? A pathetic piece of work?”

“Well. Yeah.”

Loop squawks a laugh. “Well!! Aren’t you the lucky one!! Even if you wind up as disgusting as me, your friends will still love you! Isn’t that nice!!”

“Yeah,” Siffrin says. “It really is.” They shift their weight, thoughtful, and then seem to remember something. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Loop rolls their eyes, but they don’t not listen.

“Why won’t you talk to Isa?”

Loop fails to suppress a flinch.

“He keeps asking,” Siffrin explains. “And I don’t know how to answer. But it’s getting harder to not-answer. I’m… not a very good liar.”

“…Is that right.”

“I’m an okay liar,” Siffrin concedes. “It just—feels bad.”

Loop is very much aware of that, yes.

“He just wants you to like him,” Siffrin says quietly.

“Be reasonable.”

“It’s hurting his feelings, I think.”

“Good,” Loop says coldly. They hope it does. It doesn’t even come close to evening the score.

Siffrin opens their mouth to argue and then just—shrugs, instead. “It’s your life.”

[You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were—]

—having a nightmare. You know it’s a nightmare because it’s the same one you have every night. You’re standing under a tree, looking at the man you love. He can’t be more than an armslength away. If you stepped out of the shadows, he would see you.

But he wouldn’t know you.

You watch him think of you. You watch him think of what to say to you. You watch him lose himself to heady daydreams. (This is not a metaphor. Subtlety is not his strong suit. The man you love is very obvious.)

You watch yourself approach him. You are short and strange and awkward. You are hiding and lying and you’re so, so, so-so-so-so stupid. The man you love loves you anyway, because he’s stupid, too.

“Isa!”

“Sif!!!” he shouts, when he sees you. “I was just looking at this Favor Tree!! Isn’t it cool!!!”

“Yeah,” you say slyly. “You might say it’s a pretty… TREE-mendous tree.”

Ha ha!! Ha ha ha!!!!! What a stupid blinding joke!!! It’s almost like your pathetic sense of humor wasn’t what won him in the first place!!! Almost like, all along, he was laughing along because he loved you!!!

Not that it matters now. The tree is in the past. The man is in the past. Your future is in the past. Everything you love was meant for someone else. There’s nothing left for you.

* *

* * *

Loop jerks awake. The dark is intractable. Undisturbed by any snore or snuffling wheeze. They are utterly alone.

Siffrin begged them to sleep in the Clocktower with everyone else. They even offered to sleep on the ground so Loop could have a whole bed to themself. But Loop wouldn’t budge. How could they? The thought made them physically sick.

They twist out of their bedroll and onto their feet in one smooth motion. They don’t know where they’re going, but they do know that if they have to lie here, alone with their thoughts, for a single second longer, it is actually going to kill them. So—getting up! Getting moving! One foot in front of the other! If they walk fast enough, maybe they can outrun an eternity of unrelenting dread!!!

They don’t have anywhere to go, so they just—go. They just walk. Anywhere would be better than here.

* * *

Their feet take them to the Tree. Probably because it’s the closest thing they still have to a home. (And isn’t that just the saddest thing you’ve ever heard!!!!!)

They stand at the foot of the trunk and look up at the canopy. Thick strong boughs and wide, glossy leaves framing little windows to the starry void beyond. Idly, without any real urgency, they imagine setting it on fire. It would be easy. They don’t even need flint or tinder, now that their lungs crackle with swallowed stars. All they’d need is a bit of kindling, some pine cones or dry needles, and they could reduce this place to ash.

—A twig snaps.

Loop’s stance stiffens, then hardens. They know that gait. The slow, careful breath before each heavy clumsy footfall. No one sounds more obvious than a great stupid oaf of a Fighter trying to be discreet.

Maybe he won’t notice them. They could make sure he wouldn’t, if they wanted. Loop knows how to disappear. But they’re tired of going unseen.

“…Can’t sleep?”

The Fighter startles so violently that he nearly keels over backwards. Loop could catch him by the elbow, if they wanted. Steady him; help him catch his balance.

They don’t move.

“W-Woah!!” the Fighter gasps. “Haha, whoa! Um… Loop? That’s you, right? Wow, you are really quiet! I totally didn’t see you there at all!!”

Yes, well, what else is new. “I’d expect nothing less, teehee! You’re not exactly observant.”

“Oh. Haha, um, yeah. I guess not.” Siffrin’s Fighter shifts his weight, uneasy. “ Um… Loop?”

“That’s what they call me!!!”

“Did I… do something wrong?”

Loop stiffens.

“Like… I don’t know. Step on your feelings, somehow? It just feels like you… maybe sort of don’t like me? Which is fine!!” he rushes to clarify. “Not everyone has to like me!! It’s just… if it’s something I did, I could… make sure I don’t do it again?”

Loop almost hits him. They want to. They want to grab him by the collar and shake him. To throw him back against the trunk of the Tree and shove into his space until he can’t not see them. They can see the angry thrum of his pulse in his throat and they want to trap it under their thumb. To close the space and feel his heartrate spike. For months they had to watch themself stand in front of him, wanting and wanting and doing nothing, knowing all the while that if it was them, they wouldn’t just stand there, wanting. They’d take him apart with their hands. They’d eat him alive.

“...Loop?”

“Siffrin,” Loop grates out, an ugly scrape of sound. “Sif. Before I killed myself, that’s what you—all of you used to call me.”

“Wh-What?” the Fighter asks, baffled. “What does that even—”

“But that doesn’t matter now!!!!" Loop shouts, grinning wildly. "He’s dead now!! Now there’s only me!!!!”

“I—I don’t understand. I just saw Sif? Th-They’re totally fine!“

Loop rolls their eyes theatrically. “Ugh. Weren’t you supposed to be smart now? Not your Siffrin, obviously. I obviously meant another Siffrin.”

“But—what? What do you… How would that even work?”

A molten sort of hunger comes over them. Loop flashes a glittering smile. “Isn’t it obvious? ~I’m~ what happens when you don’t save me! When you just let me die!!”

“N-No,” the Fighter mumbles.

“Y-Yeah, actually,” they stammer, mocking. Throwing his pathetic stutter right back in his face.

“No, but… Come on. No way. Sif would’ve said something!”

“Oh, because you can definitely count on Siffrin to tell you anything that matters.”

The Fighter has the gall to look offended. “Hey!! They’re honest about important stuff!!”

“I am literally telling you that we are not!!!”

Isabeau shrinks a little. “B-But— But that’s not possible. It doesn’t make any—”

“Then how do I know them?” Siffrin snarls. “How do I know everything about them? Why do I blinding hate you?”

“I don’t…” Isabeau trails off. They can see him starting to wrap his mind around it. Blood cooling, stance wilting. “You… Are you telling the truth?”

“What do you think.”

His shoulders slump a little. “You… killed yourself?”

“Your Sif tried to break the world,” Loop says scornfully. “I think we can all agree on who’s the more well-adjusted.”

Isabeau staggers back. They can see him getting ready to freak out.

“Nope!!” they shrill. “Not allowed!! This is mine!! You weren’t even there!! Besides, you already saved your Sif! So clearly I wasn’t worth saving!! Or were you just holding out for the new model?”

“That’s not—”

Bile sours in their stomach. Steel screams in their veins. Their blood burns with the absolute assurance of what will hurt him the most.

“Do you want to know the truth?” Loop asks sweetly. “If you must know… I hate you! I always hated you. You had everything. Everything!! A home, a family, friends… and still you were dissatisfied? I mean!! Talk about entitled!!”

“I— What? I never said—”

“But you di~id! To every version of me! Even the pathetic rotten failures, teehee! You shared all your ugliest, stupidest hang-ups and guess what? They were all soooo~ lame! Barely an inconvenience! Baby-school trauma for babies!!! It's no wonder you couldn't save me, teehee… You were way, way, way out of your league!”

Isabeau just stares.

Loop’s fists clench. They wish he would get angry. This would be so much more satisfying if he would lash out already. Throw them back against the Tree and snap their brittle neck. But instead he just keeps standing there, looking devastated.

“Ugh,” Loop spits. “This is pointless. You’re pointless. I’m done.”

“L— Sif!!” Isabeau yelps, and that’s the last blinding straw. Loop tucks their head and bolts.

* * *

Isabeau tries to chase after them, but he’s big and slow and Loop can reach terminal velocity in about three seconds from a standstill. He might as well have tried to catch the wind.

They don’t slow down until they reach the field.

Then they cry.

(The cruelest thing is this: If there was no Siffrin in this world, Loop would be the one everyone loved. Loop would be the one who was difficult but loyal; high-maintenance and universally adored. Loop could have been the weird little freak who everyone considered worth the effort.

But Loop gave up. They gave their chance away. And now they’ve got what they deserved: absolutely nothing.)

What are they even doing here? Why would they come back? They knew what was waiting for them. There’s no space for them here, in this place, with these people. The understudy already took their place.

It’s all Siffrin’s fault. Siffrin the hero, leading their perfect shiny life surrounded by all their perfect shiny friends. Siffrin, who got everything they ever wanted and still demanded more. Siffrin wishing wishing wishing to see them again, yanking on Loop’s subconscious mind all day and night to make sure they could never, ever forget. To make sure they’d never be truly free.

…Maybe they’ll just leave. Without telling anyone, without leaving a note. That would show them, wouldn’t it? Siffrin would be so blinding pathetic about it. So hurt and confused. Almost as hurt and confused as Isa, when he found out that his precious little Siffrin could turn into something like this. Something ugly, broken, hateful. Living spite, made manifest. A ghost haunting their own blinding life.

There’s a rustle from the bushes. Light, uncertain footfalls. Loop stiffens. There’s someone coming up the path. Not Isabeau. Not Siffrin, either. A stranger?

From the shadows, someone clears their throat. “Um—”

They don’t get the chance to say anything else. Loop already has the jagged teeth of their knife pressed tight against their throat. “Who are you? What do you want???”

“I’d let go if I were you,” the stranger says coolly. “Unless you want to lose that hand.”

“You wish,” Loop spits. “You’re out of your league.”

“Bet?”

Against their better judgment, Loop can feel themself starting to smile. It’s strangely comforting to be on the receiving end of a threat, for a change. Talking to someone who doesn’t quiver and quail and bend over backwards to accommodate their every demand.

Loop flits backwards, out of slashing range. Probably Siffrin would land in a fighting stance, but Loop is above that sort of petty, childish showmanship. They don’t need a lot of posturing just to kill someone. “What do you want?”

“I heard crying.”

Oh. Was Loop crying? They didn’t notice. Though now that they think of it, their vision does seem a little blurry. “So?”

“Are you stupid or something? So I thought someone might need help. Obviously.”

Hm. That voice isn’t entirely unfamiliar, is it? It feels like Loop might have heard it before. Possibly recently.

—Oh. “Claude,” Loop realizes.

The stranger’s eyes narrow. “So what if I am?”

“Mira’s roommate, Claude.”

“Oh. You’re with the Saviors.”

“I’m not,” Loop snarls. (STOP IT, calm down, you’re going to scare her. Just apologize and run. Say something conciliatory and disappear, like every other—)

“Change,” Claude swears grumpily. “Sorry for breathing, I’m sure. I know you’re lying, anyway. I saw you show up with the Saviors. I’m not gonna act like I didn’t.”

…Oh. She… really isn’t scared, is she? “I—um. Traveled with them, I guess. For a little. I’m not with them.”

“I wasn’t asking if you all made crabbing friendship bracelets,” Claude huffs. “I just meant you’re not from here. What’s your damage, anyway? Why are acting like that?”

Loop chokes on a laugh. Wow, she really isn’t scared. “…Lifestyle choice?”

“Kind of a shitty one.”

“Like you’re one to judge.”

“Takes one to know one,” Claude says coolly.

Hah!! “Well. I’m sure you were really looking forward to swooping in to save some pathetic little loser, but I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. I’m doing great, actually. Just… out on a walk.”

“Uh huh.”

Why do they feel so defensive about this? “Sometimes I can’t sleep! Is there a law against that? Is it illegal to go for a walk?”

“It’s not illegal to go for a walk.”

“Well! What a relief! Then it seems like you have no justifiable cause to follow me around, harassing me!”

Claude snorts. “Wow. Okay, now I know you’re not with the Saviors. Those guys are way too sensitive for this kinda thing. And too sanctimonious for all that… you know. Lying.”

“Shows what you know,” Loop sniffs. “They’re not half as righteous as they’d like you to think.”

(But even so… She’s right, isn’t she? Siffrin would hate getting talked to like this. For a party of powerful warriors, the gang was awfully terrified by confrontation. Fighting Sadnesses is one thing, but fighting with each other? You couldn’t pay them enough.)

Claude gives Loop a flat stare. “For someone who’s not with the saviors, you sure act like you know them.”

“Well!” Loop says brightly. “W-Well!!! What if I told you that I used to be with them! For long enough to know them better than they know themselves!”

“I’d say you were full of shit.”

“Shows what you know!!!” Loop practically screams. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!!!”

“So tell me.”

* * *

Somehow, the whole story comes pouring out of them, in fits and starts and halting, hysterical gasps. Another life, another world. Another Wish. Another Mirabelle, abandoned to her fate. Another pathetic blinding failure of a Savior.

Claude listens, nodding. Then she says, “The King.”

“I’m familiar.”

“I wanted to be the one who beat him. The one Euph— The Head Housemaiden chose. I’m not saying I was right,” she adds, defensive. “Mirabelle is a marvel. There might be no one else who could do what she did. But I— I still wanted it to be me.”

Loop blinks.

“Mirabelle was… the right choice, probably,” Claude concedes. “Better suited. She’s got the right constitution, or whatever. No one could have done it alone. And I’m— I don’t know if I could have recruited like she did. Going around making friends and things. People don’t like me,” she explains. “People love Mirabelle.”

“I like you,” Loop hears themself say.

“Oh.” Claude stares for a beat, unblinking. “Really?”

“Yes.” They’re 90% sure that it’s not even a lie. When’s the last time they could say that?

“Oh. Well, um. Thanks. But I think you might have sort of bad taste. And maybe a bad personality.”

Loop sputters a laugh. “Haha!!! Yeah! I get that a lot.”

“Really?”

“No.” Most people are too scared to say it. “I should, though.”

Claude nods. She can understand that. “But I never got the chance. I couldn’t save everyone. I couldn’t even save anyone.”

“...How do you live with it?”

Claude shrugs. “Eat. Sleep. Don’t die.”

…Right.

“You should probably get out of here, though.”

Loop raises an eyebrow. “Are you throwing me out?”

“Are you actually stupid? Or are you just being difficult?”

(Hah!!!) “I’m being difficult.”

Claude rolls her eyes. “I just mean… You can’t step out of someone’s shadow if you’re still walking side-by-side. You gotta do your own thing.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then you can’t.”

“And if it kills me?”

“Then you die,” she shrugs. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

Wow. Mirabelle’s roommate is… actually cool? “I think you could have done it,” Loop finds themself saying. “If you’d been the one Chosen. I think you could have beat the King. You just didn’t get the chance.”

Claude stares at them for a moment before her mouth ticks up. “Hah. Yeah. Maybe. No way to know now, huh? We just hafta go from here.”

* *

* * *

At the outskirts of town, a blot of stillness catches Loop’s eye. The absolute absence of movement. A hole in the dark, black against the surrounding gray.

“I told you,” Loop says coldly. “You’re not sneaky.”

Siffrin huffs a quiet laugh.

Loop eyes them warily. Even now, Siffrin has almost no presence. Almost like Loop is the one who survived, and they're the one who's dead.

For once, Siffrin is first to break the silence. “Running away from home again?”

“You are not my home,” they can’t help snapping. “But, well. I suppose so. Why not? After all, it went so well the last time.”

Siffrin chokes on a laugh. Then the smile drops. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I should hope not! I’m excellent company.”

Siffrin looks unconvinced.

“But there comes a time in every beautiful traveler’s life when they must shake off the bonds that hold them back and move on to bigger and better things! Forge their own path; digest their own trauma, etcetera and so forth! Maybe I’ll wind up even more famous than you!!”

Siffrin frowns. “…If you’re really leaving, can I ask a favor?”

“You can ask.”

“Can you tell me the truth?”

Ugh. “Fiiiine. I can’t stay because I—I can’t be here without— Without wanting my—” Their throat closes over the words. Fortunately, Siffrin isn’t so stupid that they can’t connect the dots. (My friends back. My life back. Everything that was supposed to be mine.)

Siffrin gives them a plaintive look. “We could share..:”

“Aw, stardust,” Loop laughs. Not a fake laugh. “Two people can’t be the same person. Anyway, we already aren’t.”

“...I know.”

This world’s Siffrin is the source of all of their problems. The root of all their suffering. So why does it make them so sad to see his shoulders droop?

“I’ll come back,” they hear themself mutter, grudging. “I won’t be gone forever. I wouldn’t—”

Loop falls silent. They know that they’re both thinking of the same scrap of paper, crumpled on the library floor.

“I won’t be gone forever,” they say again; only this time, they say it like a Wish. Like they can make it true just by wanting it. “I won’t disappear. I just—can’t be here. Yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Siffrin whispers.

“We all had our roles,” Loop shrugs. “You just got a better one.”

“But— But what if I never find you? What if we never—”

“We’re family,” Loop tells them firmly. A different kind of family. Not the kind you choose—the one you’re saddled with, by blood and bone, whether you wanted it or not. “Aww~~ Don’t worry, stardust. We’re bonded, aren’t we? You know I’ll always find you.”

“If you even want to,” Siffrin mumbles.

“Stars, how are you still such a brat!!! I’ll find you when I find you! Okay? You don’t get to control this! Just let there be one blinding choice that’s mine!”

Siffrin takes a breath. They let it out. “…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” they say again. “You can be in charge. But you have to tell me everything, next time. How you came back, and… everything else. Because we’re family.”

Loop can’t stop themself from smiling. It’s just that—it’s all so unfair. They way Siffrin always gets what he wants, and… the way they can’t help loving him anyway. “Yeah. Okay. I promise.”

Before vanishing from sight, Loop glances over their shoulder. “Stardust?”

“Loop.”

“How do you get used to it?”

Siffrin tilts their head. To what?

“The not-knowing.”

“Hah,” Siffrin huffs softly. “If you find out, write me a letter. I’d really like to find out.”

[You dreamed you were alive.]

Did you know that hamsters eat their young? If you stress out a nursing mother—leave her out in an earthquake, or make too much noise around her tank—she’ll eat her pups alive. You’ll open the lid to find her nest stained black with blood. The half-eaten husks of her children, their claws and bones and hindpaws shriveled-pink and lifeless. It isn’t malice. It’s pragmatism. We can’t survive this threat, she’s saying. We must recoup these resources. Some of us, any of us, have to survive.

Wish Craft can’t hear your words. It only knows the Wish inside your heart. Loop ran away, but they never gave up. They wanted to be free, but they didn’t want to lose. And besides! What’s a little cannibalism between friends! They are family, after all.

There are things that Siffrin wants, too. Things they want and can’t have, because they’ve sunk their roots into the present. Loop isn’t trapped like that. Loop can go where they please.

Off the coast to the north lies an island that Vaugarde forgot. A graveyard for the lost. A monument to stories long forgotten.

But Loop knows how it is to be forgotten.

They look to the sky. The stars have already started to fade, making way for the brilliant flare of dawn. Loop runs a few calculations, cross-comparing the angles from the horizon to the Highstar and the sun.

They go north.

If you want, feel free to read the series in full here! Or if you want for something a lil comfier, you're invited to this very cozy isa/sif side-story.

#isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat loop #isafrin #isat bonnie #isat mirabelle #isat odile #isat fanfic

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