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strawberryya · 10 months

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rainy nights

pairing: seungkwan x reader

synopsis: Is your fiancé ready to weather the storm if your worst nightmares were to be revealed? Maybe it's just the frigid weather seeping inside, unfurling all the anxieties you've locked away, or perhaps there's more to it.

word count: 4.6k

genre/cw: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, fighting, cheating allegations, mentions of food and alcohol, a lot of insecurities in relationship

rating: sfw

a/n: autumn angst coming your way!! This is for the svthub fall-ing collab which u should check out for all the cozy fall vibes that are needed during these cold and dark months 🫶

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

You came home to find a sleepy Seungkwan, nodding off in front of a movie he seemed to have barely begun watching. Your fiance has been working hard these past few weeks. With his newest show airing and promoting things left and right every day, you knew how exhausted he must feel. He answered your greeting with a drowsy hello as you stepped into your shared flat. The living room looked so warm even without any sun shining through the windows, the darkness outside seemingly unable to get inside through the glass panes. Quickly shaking off your outerwear you immediately ran over to Seungkwan, and the warmth he and the blankets offered you.

“Long day?”

Seungkwan nodded in response, smiling a little as you buried yourself on the other end of the couch. It was chilly outside, and you were cold to the bone after walking home. Seungkwan jumped at your cold feet snuggling against him in search of warmth, “My god, how are you so cold?!”

“I didn’t realize it would be that cold outside today, so I wore my cute shoes…” you cried out, earning a sympathetic, but chastising look from Seungkwan.

Shaking his head, he told you what you already knew. “It’s fall, how could you not think it would be cold outside? What if you catch a cold?”

“I know, I’m the one freezing because of it…” You frowned and cuddled into the blankets even more.

Your fiance only hummed in response, having accepted your cold limbs resting against him and slowly but surely warming up. He looked very pretty tonight, his dark hair messily falling over his forehead. He had showered and changed into comfy clothes right away after coming home. You had meant to do the same, but the sting of getting into a hot shower right away after being in the freezing cold did not feel like a good idea once you had gotten inside. Cuddling was definitely the better option. And spending some time like this with Seungkwan was honestly exactly what you needed right now. It had been a while since you had been able to talk or spend time together since the both of you were working until late way too often. Resulting in the both of you being too tired to do much other than cuddle a bit or simply fall asleep.

“Did you have dinner?” you asked, patting his leg to get his attention. He was close to falling asleep again, the movie apparently not interesting enough to keep him awake for the hour that was left. “Mm, we had a team dinner,” Seungkwan mumbled.

“Ah, the entire crew? Where did you go? Did you eat something tasty?” you asked excitedly. Usually, Seungkwan would bring you take-away of whatever food he had eaten when going out, and you would of course do the same if you found it tasty. It was a little tradition you had created over the years. Since you both had a hard time going out to restaurants for actual dates during your busy weeks, it was easier to bring it home and share the experience once you were both home. With Seungkwan, even doggy bags had become something romantic to you.

“It was okay, the autumn-style stew they had was pretty good though, there's some in the fridge for you if you haven’t eaten yet,” he said and let the corners of his lips curl when he heard you exited shout, he loved making you happy through small things like these. “It was me, Eunji, and a few crew people since we were the only ones left when we stopped filming today. It was pretty fun, but I think I should’ve drank a bit less since I’m supposed to film tomorrow too…” he added, making your excitement dissolve as quickly as it had appeared.

You would’ve reassured him that it would be fine, he would do his best as usual even if he was slightly hughover. But all you could hear was her name. Eunji… Seungkwans university girlfriend. The model-looking actress who was working on the same show as Seungkwan this time. She was his first true love. She is gorgeous, kind, and worst of all: you even find her likable.

You aren’t a jealous person, you never have been. But when it came to her… you couldn’t help but feel inferior. It was hard to speak about that with Seungkwan, he wouldn’t see it how you do.

With a forced smile, in case his drowsy eyelids weren’t covering his sight as much as you thought, you pretended to be okay with what he had told you.

“Eunji… It’s been a while since you worked together.”

With a slow hum, Seungkwan agreed. It wasn’t often the two got to work together on shows nowadays. It had been more frequent right after university, their past relationship hidden from the public as a close friendship, and both of their careers within the acting industry taking off. This was also around the same time he had first met you…

“She says hi, by the way.”

“Oh, well, tell her I said hi back next time then…”

Seungkwan had stopped resting his head on his hand, instead letting his head fall back on the pillows leaned against the armrest. Warm light from the kitchen was lighting up his soft features, making your heart flutter when you thought about how someone like him had fallen for you. And then you felt that familiar, sinking feeling that bubbled up from within and whispered in your ear: maybe your love for him isn’t enough to keep him.

He held your heart in his hands, and you stood powerless beside him. Still waiting to see what he would do with it in the end. If he decided to win back Eunji’s heart, what would he need yours for?

You bit the nail of your thumb, shoulders tensing up as you watched your fiance nodding off yet again. Knowing would be better than not knowing, right? It would be less painful if you could see it coming. You were engaged, but if you didn’t get married before he broke your heart it would be easier for the both of you, wouldn’t it?

His lips sat in a perfect pout, pretty cheekbones making him a vision to look at, and still, you felt like he wasn’t truly yours to look at like this. Did he still think about what could’ve been with Eunji?

You couldn’t help but recall an autumn night much like this one at the beginning of your relationship. Back then you had stayed up talking late into the night. Both of you were tired, but not ready to put the threads of your conversation to rest just yet. You had told him about thoughts you had never shared with a partner before, things only your best friends knew about, things that were so deep-rooted within your thoughts that they affected your entire person. Insecurities, convictions, and the silly plans you saw in your future. He had understood you, at least you were convinced he had. You wanted to think that he still did.

Back then, when the leaves were turning copper, and golden sunshine tainted your relationship he had told you about Eunji. The girl he wasn’t sure he would ever fully get over – his first true love.

You had listened and felt like you understood what he had meant back then. You had your past relationships as well, with your fair share of guys you thought you would never get over until you had. She was just like that, time erases all, you were so convinced of that back then.

Now, you felt differently. During the years since that first autumn, you had fallen deeper in love with him than you had ever been with anyone before. You had realized that he was your first true love. And you weren’t his.

He was fast asleep on the couch next to you. You should let it all go, cuddle up next to him, and deal with your emotions after some sleep. But should do and do are very different things. Instead, you buffed Seungkwan’s leg yet again, his eyelids sliding open to look at you. “Mh?”

“Am I your rebound?” you asked softly, tears stuck in your throat.

Your question seemed to catch him off guard. It took a while for the words to register in his tired brain. “What do you mean by that? I don’t even know what the fuck you want me to answer to that.” He barked out as he squinted at you.

His tone was snappier than you had expected. All of your worst fears about your relationship swarmed your thoughts, and his tone made you feel like he had something to defend. Like your words had rung true, that you were just a rebound, even though he hadn’t said it straight up.

“I mean what I said, am I your rebound? Do you still think about her?”

“Have you lost it? I can’t mention Eunji to you without you getting jealous about it?” Seungkwan had stopped trying to adjust his tired eyes to watch your expression, too tired and tipsy to take your questions seriously. It wasn’t the first time you had become overly worried about the smallest thing. He didn’t pay it too much mind and usually made sure you got some peace of mind. But tonight he didn’t want to be the one to calm your mind – he wanted to sleep.

“Can’t we do this tomorrow instead? My head hurts.”

The tears your body was too tired to hold back came welling out, staining your cheeks. You knew it was stupid, but it wasn’t too far-fetched. People went back to their exes all the time! What made someone as amazing as Seungkwan want to stay with you instead of be with someone who was both a whole lot prettier than you and also famous in the same industry as him? She probably understood him better than you, maybe he was her true love as well. You kept making yourself more and more riled up, the longer Seungkwan kept his eyes closed, his arm now covering his tired eyes.

“Why can’t you just tell me that you miss her? I know you do.”

Seungkwan sighed, he was getting annoyed with you now, you felt it. “You don’t know what I'm feeling. Why are you trying to start a fight?”

“I’m not trying to start a fight! I just want you to be honest with me! We don’t talk anymore and I just want to spend some time with you, and I know I can’t blame you for that, but I just… You don’t even seem to notice how much more time you spend with your ex compared to me, your freaking fiancee! So I just want to know now, before it’s too late if you even want to be with me.”

You were sobbing, desperation, anxiety, and weeks of exhaustion all washing over you at once. It was all too much, and you just wanted him to comfort you.

“Please, just stop overthinking, I really don’t know where you got all that from… let’s just go to bed and we can try and fix all that tomorrow. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Deal?” You sobbed. “Am I something you have to deal with? Why are you being mean? I just want to know who you even love…”

“My god, what the fuck are you talking about? I’m so tired, I really cannot do this right now.” Seungkwan groaned, throwing the blankets off his body and walking off towards the bedroom. You didn’t say anything when he slammed the bathroom door a bit too harshly, quiet rage simmering inside of you. He seemed like he would be okay even if you were to walk out right at that moment, he didn’t even seem to care about your tears or your feelings one bit. Would he have cared if you were Eunji?

“Fine!” You yelled towards the closed doors separating you from your fiancé. “I won’t bother you then!”

Quickly you shoved your feet back into your shoes, throwing your jacket on, and slamming the door behind you when you left. It was childish, you knew it was. You wiped at your tears, the wind helping you dry off a little, and the cold making you question if you shouldn’t go back instead.

But going back wouldn’t solve anything. Staying away for now was best for everyone. You needed time to cool off, time to somehow talk yourself down, and reason with your anxieties enough to go back without crying and asking stupid questions again.

You could call someone, sleep somewhere else, and try again tomorrow night after work. Before you could even finish making up a plan like that you realized that you had left your phone at home. You hadn’t brought anything but the few things already in your jacket pockets. Under a streetlamp you checked what you had: gum wrappers, a spare charger, and your wallet. At least that would be useful…

You weren’t sure you wanted to talk about it yet anyhow, and it was too late to barge into someone’s place unannounced. Nevertheless, you would need to find someplace warm soon, the autumn wind blowing up golden leaves around you was already biting at your skin. You decided running to the bus stop and heading further into the city would be the best idea right now, hoping to find some restaurant that would stay open even this late on a weekday. The cold had almost made you forget about why you had even gone out, but the wound of his distant words was still fresh, and your heart ached even as you ran towards the bus.

Seungkwan heard the door slamming shut behind you, it echoed through the house.

“Where are they even going?” he grumbled to himself.

He could’ve gone after you, but he wasn’t ready to face you yet, he couldn’t stop being mad about the whole conversation. He wanted to fall asleep. He wanted to forget that you had doubted him, that you had cried because of him. To Seungkwan it wasn’t even a possibility that he would ever get back together with Eunji, she was a part of his past, and now a colleague. Nothing more. He thought you knew that.

It was impossible to stop thinking about the way you had sounded so hurt, so painfully weak while you asked who you were to him. The annoyance and anger over how you had started a fight over nothing was slowly but surely morphing into worry the longer he thought about it.

His head throbbed as he tossed and turned in bed. He still hadn’t been able to fall asleep, his mind and body too busy trying to listen to the door opening, and the faint sound of your footsteps on the wooden floor. It was always easier to fall asleep when you were beside him. For hours he tried to get his mind to let go and give him some rest before you would come home and he would try and make things right.

He wasn’t blameless, after all. If you thought he was able to do something like that he was partially responsible, he thought as he stared into the darkness surrounding him. Should he try calling you? If he knew where you were, even if you didn’t come back home tonight, maybe he could get some sleep and apologize for his response. He had been tired, but he knew he couldn’t blame that entirely. You were tired too. It had been a long week, and he didn’t even welcome you home like he wanted to.

Picking up his phone he was started by the bright blue light that hit his sleepy eyes. He dialed your number, hoping that you would at least pick up.

The beeps as he waited for you to pick up sounded throughout the empty bedroom, but a faint buzzing sound traveling from somewhere further away was distinguishable after a while. Were you still home? Had you never left? He ran up before he could think twice about what to say if you were sitting out there after all this time.

You weren’t there though, your phone ringing alone on the counter where you had left it along with your house keys and bag. “Shit, she ran out without bringing anything?”

Seungkwan’s hand brushed through his hair, head hurting as he felt the anxious thoughts about where you could have gone and if you were safe and warm arise in his mind. What if you were outside freezing in the cold, refusing to come home because of him and his mean response? He thought about running out to find you again. But it had been hours since you left. There was no way he would be able to find you wandering the streets at this hour. He pulled open the front door, the chilly autumn breeze giving him goosebumps. The leaves were wet and stuck to the shining asphalt outside. Rain drizzled and the wind forced the tiny drops inside. He quickly shut the door again, leaving it unlocked in case you came back without him noticing. You didn’t have your keys after all.

Now he felt even worse. Had he done enough to reassure you that he was as madly in love with you as he felt he was? What had made you doubt him? When would you come back? It was overwhelming, his mind spun, and he had no control over himself anymore.

Seungkwan decided that it was best to not spiral too far before he knew that you were safe. He called everyone he could think of. Your parents, your best friends, and even some acquaintances who lived close by. Only a few picked up, it was past midnight on a workweek after all. The few who did were more confused than anything. Nobody had seen or heard from you, and why was he calling this late at night looking for you? Had something happened? He didn’t know how to answer the questions they all asked. Once he knew that you weren’t there he simply hurried to apologize for disturbing you so late before hanging up and trying the next person.

But you weren’t anywhere. Nobody had seen you. Nobody had heard from you. Which wasn’t strange, since you had left your phone behind. Seungkwan held his face in his palms, staring at his list of contacts, there was nowhere else you could’ve gone. He had called everyone he could think of. You might have been with one of the people who hadn’t picked up, of course. He tried to tell himself that you were safe and warm, asleep at a friend’s house. He imagined your tears dried, and your resting figure under a blanket. Safe from the storm that was continuing to pick up outside.

“She’s ok, I know she is,” Seungkwan mumbled to himself, hands rubbing against his features, legs unable to stay still where he sat at the kitchen counter. Hoping that someone would call back and tell him that he could relax for even a couple of hours.

He slanted over to the couch. Once again he tried sleeping but woke up every twenty minutes, the weakest sounds of wind outside waking him where he lay, your next to his on the coffee table. It had been left behind just like he had. You had just fucking left. And now you were somewhere out in the cold or at some friend’s house seething about what a dick he was. And he was. But couldn’t you have stayed at home and let him know how much of a dick he had been instead of leaving him all alone?

As he dozed off he could hear your laughter, he remembered it so clearly he almost thought you had come home. It wasn’t real, he could recall the day when you had been laughing just like that. A couple of years ago, on an autumn day much like today, you had moved in together, into this house. You had been so excited, and he had never felt so fond of someone as he had that day. Seungkwan had always wondered what it would feel to fall in love with someone over and over again, but with you, he had found out. Every day he found a new thing about you that drove him mad. The way you pouted, when you sang in the shower, how you would kiss him goodbye even if he was sleepy and had morning breath. It all made his heart beat an extra beat, and always put a smile on his lips. You had rolled out the carpet beneath the couch he was on right now together. You had been adamant about making sure that he got two dozen kisses before you got up from the floor to continue unpacking, leaving him chuckling on the new carpet, looking up after you as you made the house into your home.

He had been so happy back then, and you had a magic about you that could make him happy still.

And somehow, he had made you doubt how much he loved you. He didn’t know how, but recalling your tears as he ignored your worries last night made his heartache. A silent tear fell from his eye, waking him from his sleepless dreams.

That first night when you had begun living your lives together in this house you had baked an apple pie. You said that the house needed to be told that someone was being loved inside of it again. Apparently, a house found out that love was present through the scent of freshly baked pies. It had made him laugh back then, but he had loved that pie. The memory gave him an idea.

Because, if he wasn’t going to get any sleep, he might as well do something other than sit around worrying all night.

It took him a while to follow the recipe in your favorite cookbook, he wanted to get everything just right. Carefully peeled apples, sliced and covered in butter, sugar, some flour, and a lot of cinnamon were placed gently in a pan. He had some trouble getting teh dough perfect, but after a second try, he managed to cover the filling with a thin layer of what soon became a flaky crust, a heart visible from the tiny cuts on top decorating it.

He stared at the pie from across the kitchen floor the entire time it baked. A hundred different ways to apologize, argue back, and confess his undying love swirling around in his mind until the buzzer went off.

When the pie stood on the rack to cool off, and the oven was turned off, Seungkwan sank down on the floor yet again. His back was against the cupboards, and his eyelids were heavy with sleepiness. He let it wash over him this time, knocking him out swiftly, and leaving him sleeping sitting up where he was.

The rain had soaked your hair on the short run from to and from the bus. The restaurant had closed, and one of the servers had gently woken you up from your agitated sleep. You had been a bit embarrassed about having fallen asleep and leaned against your table like that, apologizing for being a nuisance to the staff while quickly paying and running out into the rainy night.

You wanted to go home and sleep in your bed, next to Seungkwan. There hadn’t been much of a choice at that point. It was in the early hours of the morning, and the last shop had closed for the night. Home was the only place for you right now.

The door blew open faster than you had intended for it to, the wind grabbing ahold of it as you tried to escape the cold rain. Inside it was warm, and a sweet scent filled the space, confusing you more than anything had that night. You dropped your wet jacket on a chair, mind trying to tell you to go dry off your hair, but feet dragging you towards the kitchen, too curious about what could’ve created the delicious smell of apples, cinnamon, and buttery dough.

In the dim light from the kitchen counter lights, you found Seungkwan. Asleep on the kitchen floor, with tear-stained cheeks, and flour on his clothes and in his hair. You didn’t know how he had been able to make such a mess. You had only been gone a couple of hours.

He made you afraid of everything that could take him away from you, and yet you couldn’t help but love him.

You looked at the picture-perfect pie on the counter and knew you would never be able to leave him. He was your person, he had been your person since the day you had first met during that rainy fall, and he would continue to be your person until the day you were no longer on this earth.

You bent down to him, brushing away some flour from his soft cheek. Reddened eyes blinked back at you, seemingly not quite sure if they were awake or still off in dreamland. Seungkwan’s arms wrapped around you quickly once he knew with certainty that you had come back for real. You embraced him back, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. You pulled back from him, whispering “I’m sorry,” and getting an equally apologetic look back from your fiancé.

”I have been yours for years, please believe me when I tell you that I can’t imagine a future where you are not the only person I love.” He whispered, wiping away a water drop from the side of your face gently. You nodded, you did believe him, most days. But you felt like you needed to explain yourself, explain why you couldn’t escape your doubts about how long you would get to keep him to yourself.

”I wouldn’t be able to do the same.”

”What?” Seungkwan’s thumb stopped moving on your cheek, confusion visible on his face.

You took a deep breath. ”I wouldn’t be able to move on with someone else if we broke up, because you’re my first true love… and she’s yours. So how can I believe you?”

He fell silent. He remembered the words he had used that first autumn with you. ”My first true love.” Had you been hung up on Eunji all these years simply because of those words? He had thought you were only jealous of her or didn’t trust him enough. But it was his fault, to begin with-

He hadn’t reassured you enough, he saw that now.

”Eunji was my first love, that’s true.” He nodded slowly. When his warm hands slid up to hold your cold cheeks you could smell cinnamon on his skin. ”But I want you to be my last true love.”

Tears fell from your eyes, ”Couldn’t you have said that earlier?” You sobbed out, ”I drank way too much for a work night…”

This made Seungkwan chuckle. His forehead pressed against yours as you both cried silent tears on the kitchen floor. ”I thought you knew.”

You hugged him tighter, folding yourself into his warmth and his overwhelming love. ”I’ll make sure to tell you every single day from now on,” he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

#kwritersworldnet #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt angst #svt imagines #svt scenarios

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genderlessghoul · 1 year

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A bit of Phantom headcanon with a side of Dew angst at the end.

Phantom was never meant to be Aether's replacement. He knew the rhythm guitar parts, yes, but that was required of him as a Quintessence ghoul living at the Ministry. He also knew drums, as expected of him for being part Earth ghoul.

He was originally only summoned to help around the Ministry when Copia first started touring in 2018. Quite a few new ghouls were summoned back then to make up for the 7 ghouls the Cardinal decided to take on the road with him. Such a large number made a big gap in the ghoul staff, not to mention all the ghouls who decided to go back to the Pit after the little... Accident... With the 3 previous Papas.

Ghouls are very loyal creatures after all and did not take kindly to the news of their favourite humans' departure from the mortal realm.

So Phantom learned his part, doing the tasks expected of him around the gardens and the infirmary, spending his free time with a guitar in his hand or sitting behind a drum kit. And he'd wait for the touring ghouls to come back. They'd be back with trinkets from various countries as gifts for their friends and lovers, and of course a thousand tales from the road.

Phantom could spend hours listening to Dewdrop talking about his and Aether's antics on stage, about the adrenaline rush, about the screams and adorations from the fans, the precious gift that were made for them. He'd watch the way all of them came back closer to each other than when they left. He loved them all but it's oh so hard to carve yourself a place when all the touring ghouls have been so tightly knit together by their adventures.

He longed for the stage, for the attention and adoration of the crowd, for the chance to see the world and serve his Lord in such a special way. But more than anything he longed for that bond shared between all of them.

It wasn't the same at the Ministry. Yes he had ghouls he cared for but they would barely speak in a day, all too busy with the chores appointed to them. And they would spend most of their free times alone in their room, trying to relax in whichever way they could.

His heartbreak only grew stronger when Sunshine, one of the ghoulettes who was summoned around the same time as him, got to join the band. Because they were able to make extra space for another hell creature but it wasn't him. He desperately craved to be a part of the band and he knew he could never share those feelings because that would be asking for Mountain or Aether to leave and he simply wouldn't do it. Could never do it.

Aether's always been very intuitive about other people's feelings. It's a blessing and sometimes curse that comes with his elemental affiliation. He sees the way the small ghoul looks up in awe at him and his pack. The way he's hung on their words when they tell him stories. He can almost hear the other ghoul's heart ripping when he watches his mates interacting in the closest ways.

Aether's the one who goes to Imperator and asks her to take him out of the Ghost project. Touring is fun and all but he's not getting any younger and those bus bunks, sleepless nights and rough mornings are really starting to take a toll on his old bones. Maybe she could find him a place in the infirmary? He's even willing to just sit around and do taxes all day. Surely they would have no hard time replacing him, they already have this Phantom guy who knows his part. Oh and if it could stay a secret between them, he doesn't want his mates to worry about him.

Phantom is both ecstatic and terrified at the news, what if he's not good enough? What if his bandmates hate him? What if the fans hate him? What if he disappoints Papa? All of his cares melt away the second he first step into the band practice room. Everyone there is so warm and welcoming, even Aether is there to show him a thing or two. He looks very happy for someone who's just been replaced and has to teach the guy taking his place.

Everyone welcomes him except Dewdrop. Dewdrop never liked change. He didn't like having to take on Ifrit's role, being the only ghoul part Fire still in the Ministry at the time. He didn't like his costume being changed two times. He didn't like when Sunshine first joined them. He doesn't like when new ghouls are summoned, they always want to be all up in his business. More than anything, Dewdrop doesn't like Phantom.

Aether, his Aether, has to leave the band and do taxes all day because Phantom somehow impressed Imperator enough. He's not even that good, he's heard him play before. Nothing that even comes close to Aether.

Dewdrop bottles those feelings and opts fot ignoring Phantom's existence for as long as he can, which happens to be a little after they were officially on the road again.

Dew's had a particularly long day and even longer evening. He's barely slept, he ran out of cigarettes, he misses Aeth and the food is terrible. He keeps missing his cues during the ritual and he knows everyone knows. So when Phantom makes the mistake of accidentally bumping into him in the hallway, every word comes flying out and he's screaming at the poor ghoul before he can even process it.

Why does he has to constantly ruin everything? He can't even keep his shoulders to himself, as to take up everyone else's space. Life would be so much easier if Phantom had just stayed at the Ministry instead of trying to play rockstar. He's clearly not cut out for the road or for Dew's pack so why does he even bother trying? He's supposed to be Aether's replacement but he'll never be him so what's the point?

By the time Dew's voice runs out, both small ghouls are crying. Phantom's shocked by Dew's words and is carried into his locker room by Swiss while the Fire ghoul locks himself in a bathroom.

Aether hears about the incident from Mountain. He gives Dewdrop a call the following day. He explains everything to him and begs him to stop hurting the new ghoul. He wanted Phantom to take his place.

Dewdrop leaves the call a complete mess. He's confused, doesn't know which emotion to feel first. All he knows is a truth he'd rather have never known. Aether wasn't kicked out of the band. Aether left him.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghost #phantom ghoul #aether ghoul #ghost headcanons #ghoul headcanons #meerkat writes

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mlmvoreconfessionals · 11 months

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Since it’s now spooky month how about some more Bob Velseb vore? Maybe a few dates in for the his newly acquired boyfriend and him, showing off just how much he meat he can handle. Or if you don’t wanna how bout just some mass vore, with oral, pec and pit vore with weight gain and disposal?

I can make both of these the same thing, easy stuff. Obviously, this a follow-up to the old V.elseb asks, but I don't feel like searching for them to link.

Barry had to admit, he didn’t think things would go so...well? When the giant, cannibal serial killer basically told him they were dating, Barry figured it was just a little game and he’d be dinner himself sooner or later. But then he survived their first date...and the next...and the next...and the next. And now, a year later, Barry is starting to wonder if it’s not really a game.

Sure, tons of other guys have died over the course of their dates. Like...a lot, a lot. But not Barry. Bob licks him a lot, yeah, and might stick a hand or his head into that slimy, deadly maw...but he always lets Barry go again with a chuckle. Now, it’s Halloween again. Their one-year anniversary. And Bob wanted to do something special. And it involved the large house party that is happening tonight.

Bob is wearing his usual outfit, a thick red sweater and his devil face. Barry had let Bob do some face paint for him, too, so he’s a skeleton this year. A joke, since Bob likes to mention how he ‘has no meat on his bones’. Barry is only half confident that, if he did bulk up, Bob wouldn’t eat him.

Right now, at least, that drooling grin is much more focused on the house they’ve walked up to. Music blares out from inside, door open and already a few people milling about. Everyone is dressed in costumes of some kind and is in some state of tipsy. Barely anyone is even paying attention to them as they walk up...which really just makes the next part easy.

Bob yanks a guy dressed as a superhero up off the porch stairs by the back of his shirt. Maw opened wide, Bob lowers the guy right in, a few wet slurps and gulps sending him away. He barely even got a yell out before Bob’s jaws clack shut and his belly sloshes with live meat dropping inside. The killer slurps over his lips with a groan and pats his gut. “Mmm...now that’s good eatin’...”

Barry can’t help the slight chuckle that comes out of him. The guy didn’t even bulge Bob’s gut out, and it’s gurgling thickly around him. “How many people do you plan on eating, anyway?”

Bob slurps over his lips and looks down at Barry with wide, hungry eyes. “All of ‘em, darlin’.”

“...what?” Barry knew that Bob is a big eater. But he’s usually careful about where he goes to eat and how many people it is. He’s never seen the big guy go for more than ten meals at a time, and even that is when he’s being indulgent. The party is way more than that. “You can’t be serious.”

“Just watch.” Bob chuckles and pats his gut, the porch stairs creaking under him as he walks up. Three more people are lingering around the porch, and Bob does the same thing to each of them--hefts them off the ground and into his drooling jaws, slurping them away with practiced skill. By the time a pair of twitching cowboy boots are disappearing down his gullet, his groaning guts have begun to bulge out his shirt, peeking out of the bottom ever so slightly. Bob looks to Barry, blasts out a thick belch into the smaller man’s face, and then waddles into the house. Barry can only follow in stunned silence.

Bob’s massacre continues inside. The loud music helps to muffle a lot of what happens. Sure, people are more likely to notice Bob devouring others. It’s hard not to when he’s snapping his jaws down on people mid conversation, or walking up to clusters or people and just shoveling them down the hatch. But the yelling doesn’t do much, and no one is able to get away from those drooling jaws.

People try to grab onto their friends, and it gets them sucked down right after. Other try to rub, but Bob’s size makes it hard to get away from him, and he always grabs them and pull them into his maw. A few braver or larger guys try fighting him, but getting close enough to do so all but confirms their fate as food.

Before long, the living room of the house is mostly empty. Bob huffs, pushing a pair of kicking legs into his gullet. He doesn’t even swallow, just sends them down with a long push. “Nnf...there...” Bob slurps over his lips and pats his gut. It’s heavy, sticking out before him several feet and nearly on the ground. It’s bulging around the various people inside, limbs and heads and awkward shapes from costumes stretching him out. His sweater has ridden up on him completely, exposing the pale, hairy flash. It’s churning and rumbling wetly, working hard on all of the meat inside. Bob belches deeply, a couple stray bits flying out of his jaws--a plastic gladiator’s helmet, a boot, and a bone that definitely wasn’t a prop, among other things.

“W-Wow...” Barry murmurs, just staring at that massive gut. He’s never seen it this big. He reaches out, pushing on it and finding it taut. He gives it a rub, earning a content huff from Bob. If it wasn’t for the face paint, Barry’s blush would be very obvious. “Okay...you were able to eat a lot, I’ll give you that.” The gut gurgles thickly against Barry’s hands, as if agreeing. “But you’ve got to be full now, right?”

“Hm...” Bob taps his chin, looking down at Barry over the curve of his gut. “...I s’pose I could give my gut a break.”

“Alright. Maybe we should go before anyone else shows up then, just so--” Barry stops when he watches Bob pull his sweater off and casually toss it onto the couch he just cleared of its occupants. “...what are you doing?”

“I said I’d give my gut a break, darlin’.” Bob stretches his arms out, definitely showing off a bit--his gut has always been round and soft, and while his arms and chest had a bit of that softness as well, he had some well built muscle mass. “Didn’t say I was done.”

“But...” Barry trails off as Bob goes waddling off, towards the kitchen. A few more people are inside, making food or getting some that’s been left out. Barry stands in the large doorway, watching as Bob hoists up a couple of guys.

The two men find themselves getting shoved face first into thick, furry pits. They start to kick immediately, but Bob gives their heads a good shove, and they slip right in. Then they’re sinking deeper, disappearing into his body. It wasn’t just his jaws that he can eat with, after all, and while he had his preference...Bob was hardly far from full. In no time at all, a couple pairs of twitching feet disappear behind black pit fur, and Bob’s arms are bulging out slightly more than usual.

He moves right on, grabbing a guy rummaging through the fridge. He’s dragged up and over the curve of that bulging, stuffed gut. He gets out a surprised yell before his head is crammed between Bob’s pecs, and just like before, the man is simply sinking into the muscles with little resistance. A few tight flexes, and the man is gone, leaving Bob’s chest slightly more bulky than it had been.

The few remaining people in the room are put away just the same. Bob makes eye contact with Barry, arms folded behind his head, a blindly grasping arm and a twitching leg disappearing into each of his pits. “Think I can’t handle my meat anymore?”

Barry shakes his head quickly.

Bob chuckles and heads out back. The backyard has a lot more guys around, sitting by a fire or drinking on the patio. Just like the living room, the eating continues with no issue. Except it goes much faster, with three spaces to stuff with squirming meat instead of one. Bob’s arms and pecs continue to bulge out with each guy he sends in. They all kick and squirm, but the second they get pushed between his pecs or into the fur of his pit, it’s just a matter of time until they’ve been slurped out of sight.

Barry only stopped watching so he could help. He went back into the house, going through each room and telling any stragglers to head to the backyard. “There’s a fight!” “I think I saw your boyfriend kissing someone.” “Someone’s calling for you.” Whatever he could think of to get them to head out, he said it. By the time he’s double checked the house and returned to the backyard, Bob is already coming back inside.

The killer looks down at Barry, who walks directly into his gut. Barry had to back up just to properly see Bob’s face. His gut is still massive, but digestion is already taking its toll, the mass inside getting more compact and growing smaller. His pecs and arms are also massive now, bulging and flexing as they try to contain all the squirming meat. Barry can see an arm or even a head surface from between Bob’s pecs or his pit hair, but a single flex sucks them right back into place. If it wasn’t for the massive double doors, Bob wouldn’t even be able to fit inside.

Barry can’t even say anything. He just stares, and it makes Bob chuckle. The smaller man is gently ushered along, back to the living room, and Bob settles onto the couch. It breaks almost immediately under him, but he just settles in and pats his gut. “Happy anniversary, darlin’.”

“You...did this for the anniversary?” Barry asks. He slowly raises his hands to start rubbing along Bob’s gut, then up to his pecs and along his arms.

“What can I say? I wanted to show off a bit.” Bob pats the top of his gut with both heads. He tips his head back and lets out a deep, rumbling belch into the air. Barry swears it makes the entire house shudder. More bits of costume bounce around, and at least a few bones, too. “Figures I’d put on a show for ya.”

All these people are digesting for Barry, then. Some...god, fifty or so partygoers who were just trying to have a good night are now just food. Packed into Bob’s hellish guts, or stuffed into his tight, musky muscles, doomed to die, just so Bob could ‘show off’ for Barry. The smaller man pushes his hands a bit deeper into Bob’s gut, finding more resistance, and even getting another wet belch out of the killer. “...thanks, Bob. This was...wow.”

Bob chuckles and settles back. “Glad ya enjoyed it. Happy anniversary, lambchop. Now then...” WIth a mighty yawn, Bob closes his eyes. “I’m gonna sleep this off. You have fun down there.”

Before long, the sound of heavy snoring is joining the thick rumbles of Bob’s gut and the crunches and snaps coming from his muscles. And Barry enjoys it all, rubbing over every inch of the man’s body, feeling it work and process all of that meat. Up until he fell asleep against that rapidly softening gut.

Come morning, Bob was up first, yawning and blinking sleepily. He can feel his little lambchop sleeping against him, a rather familiar feeling at this point. Bob would have stayed like that if not for the wet rumbling in his bowels demanding attention. So, with a bit of effort, Bob grunts and rises to his feet.

Bob’s stomach wobbles as it drops in front of him. It’s always been heavy and round, but it’s gotten at least twice as large, hanging out at least a foot before him. He notices that his thighs and ass have had a similar shift, given how tight his pants are on him. But he also has a lot more strength to pair with that. His arms are bulky now, all solid muscle. His pecs are about the same, large and strong, resting slightly on top of his gut.

Bob smirks and scratches his gut gently, getting a wet groan in response. “Bet lambchop will love this...” He looks over at the man in question, seeing Barry still sleeping on the ruined couch. Bob grabs his sweater and pulls it down over his head. It only half covers his gut, and his arms and chest are straining the fabric. He huffs and lifts up Barry next, simply holding the now much smaller man against his gut with one arm. The other arm helps get his pants down enough to let his ass hang out. Bob squats slightly and begins to push.

There’s a bassy fart at first, one that rumbles out for a good while. The only reason it stops is because of the solid mass that starts to stretch him out. Thick, dense logs of shit are all but overflowing Bob’s bowels, and they’re sliding out with a bit of urgency. A heavy thump sounds out when the first log hits the couch, and it’s quickly coiling up. The mass only breaks from its own weight, letting more dung heap up regardless.

Plenty of solids have gotten out of Bob’s body. Bones are the easiest to see, specks of white that break up the dark brown and awkward shapes that stick out every so often. Entire skeletons are likely baked down into every log, given the sheer amount of people making up the mess. But along with that is all of the costumes parts. Masks, plastic armor, cheap suits and accessories--they also pepper the logs of shit, all of them worn down or slightly ruined by the acid bath or being compacted.

Despite all of the awkward shapes, the thickness of the logs, and the sheer mass of shit, Bob is having little issue. Other than the occasional grunt or grumble, his dump continues with little interruption. And the mass of shit behind him keeps building up. The couch is smothered fast, the pile rising hire, some hundreds of pounds of shit heaping in the room. Bob has to move forward every so often, just to give himself more space to work with. By the time he feels the last of the crap slop out of him, he’s moved halfway across the room.

Bob lets out a deep sigh and stands up again. He yanks on a curtain to wipe himself clean and pulls his pants back up with a bit of effort. Behind him, the living room is filled with a pile of crap that would put manure farms to shame. It’s tall enough to reach the ceiling at its peak, smothering most of the back wall and sloping down. Furniture has been knocked over or smothered under the thick logs. The smell is almost overwhelming, and it’ll likely never come out of the house. And of course, countless amounts of bones and costume parts stick out all over. In one night, an entire Halloween house party was reduced to crap, and all with no effort.

Bob doesn’t even look back at the pile he made. He walks off, squeezing through the front door, all while Barry sleeps against him. Bob can’t help but grin looking down at him. Nothing cuter than seeing the little guy sleeping against his deadly guts. Must’ve been up for hours, Bob figures. He’ll probably just return to bed once he’s back home, let Barry sleep in.

By the time anyone notices the smell and investigates, the killer will be gone, likely back home to spend the day with his boyfriend. For everyone in town, it’ll end up being a Halloween that’ll never be forgotten. For Bob, it’ll just be the anniversary he has to one-up next year. His cute little boyfriend deserves it, after all.

#v.ore #male vore #mlm vore #m/m vore #gay vore #oral vore #pit vore #pec vore #mass vore #digestion #fatal vore #disposal #vore story #bobvelsebvore #slashervore #ask

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tabitha42 · 3 months

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The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 19

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

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The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement and joy. Wine flowed, people danced, music and laughter filled the air. Karlach had convinced Wyll to join the party, at least for a bit, and the six of them were finally catching up on the day as the tieflings settled in.

“Then suddenly, there were 6 of her!” Astarion recounted, throwing his usual dramatic flair on the story as he told it. “Of course, immediately I knew which was the real one.” “Did you?” Shadowheart challenged. “Funny how you shot all the others first, then.” “Well, I had to shoot them to get rid of them,” he said defensively.

“I’m sure that’s the reason,” she said knowingly, looking into her cup of wine before taking a sip.

“I don’t know how you’re drinking that swill,” Astarion murmured, looking at her glass. “Honestly, we rescue these tieflings and this is the thanks we get? Vinegar for wine?”

“Oh, did no one tell you where the good wine was?” she said, sounding… somewhat genuine as she looked over at him.

“There’s good wine?” he asked, equal parts surprised and eager.

“There is. Give me the hag’s bone charm and I’ll tell you where it is,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Oh, I see. Forget it, it’s mine,” he snapped back, narrowing his eyes at her. Saff, Gale and Wyll had very quickly come to learn that the others were all trying to convince Astarion out of this charm he’d got off the hag.

“If you insist,” she said calmly with a shrug, taking another deep gulp of wine. Astarion watched her, twitching slightly.

“I still can’t believe you managed to defeat a hag,” Gale said, deciding to pull the conversation away from Astarion’s desperation for a good glass of wine. He didn’t see the problem, the wine wasn’t anything great but it wasn’t as bad as Astarion was making out. “They’re notoriously powerful.”

“As are we,” Lae’zel said confidently. “I was disappointed to have missed the goblin fight, but the hag makes for a fine victory.”

“I can’t say I’m sad to have missed fighting a hag,” Gale said with a small chuckle. “Though I might have been interested to see her magic. I wonder if she’d have been able to remove the tadpole if you’d let her try.”

“Well she’s still there if you want to find out for yourself,” Astarion said, finally prying his thoughts away from the wine. “You will have to give her an eye, though.”

“I’m quite content with my eyes the way they are, thank you very much. But that won’t stop me wondering.”

“What happened to the girl?” Saff asked, leaning forward a bit. “What was her name? Mary something? You didn’t leave her with the hag, did you?”

“Mayrina. No, we didn’t, the hag told her the deal was off. Then the ungrateful little wretch said we’d ruined everything and ran away,” Astarion said, rolling his eyes. “We found her crying over her husband’s corpse. We also found a wand in the hag’s lair with his name on it. Well, she now has a zombie for a husband,” he said with a smirk, clearly feeling like they got back at her for being so ungrateful.

“Poor girl…” Karlach murmured with a sad sigh, much less happy about the outcome of it all.

“She made a deal with a hag and lived to tell the tale. You’ve given her more than most people would have got in her situation,” Wyll said. It was the first time he’d spoken in a while - he’d generally been quite quiet and reserved, but Saff couldn’t help but notice that one of the first times he speaks is to cheer up Karlach. It worked - Karlach managed a small smile.

“Yeah, I guess so. I hope she gets back to Baldur’s Gate ok.”

“Maybe we’ll be able to find her when we get there ourselves,” Wyll suggested optimistically, meeting her smile with a smile of his own.

Meanwhile, Astarion had gone back to staring at Shadowheart’s wine glass and finally broke.

“Oh gods, fine! I’ll give you the damn thing, but you have to give me the wine first,” he snapped, seemingly out of nowhere. Shadowheart was unsurprised though, and just smiled.

“Very well, this way,” she said, standing up and leading him off.

“Do you think she actually has a stash of good wine hidden away?” Gale wondered, starting to sound a bit tempted. Saff chuckled and shook her head.

“I think she’s having him on,” she said, watching as the two disappeared off towards her tent.

“She is,” Lae’zel said confidently. The others looked at her in surprise. “Mol has the good wine. She told me as much earlier.”

Gale chuckled softly. Of course Mol would say that.

“Well then, I think we’d better pay Mol a visit,” he decided, standing up.

Mol did, indeed, have some wine, and she was even willing to part with it for a small offering of coin. Whether or not it was actually any better than the rest of the wine was hard to say.

The group split up to mingle with the rest of the guests. Gale and Saff’s eyes were caught by a dancing spell across the camp, and made their way over to find Rolan performing illusions for his siblings. Sparkling lights shimmered in the air above them, glittering as they fluttered down to earth. It was a fairly basic spell, but beautiful nonetheless.

Gale and Saff joined Cal and Lia in applause, and soon were chatting to Rolan about his plans to further his wizarding powers once he got to Baldur’s Gate.

“Lorroakan?” Gale said in surprise when he heard the name of Rolan’s master-to-be. “I’ve heard of him. Word in Waterdeep is he’s a bit of a cad, but you say he’s an accomplished wizard?”

“Of course he is! The greatest spellcaster along the Sword Coast. As if I’d settle for a lessor mentor,” Rolan said confidently, almost offended by Gale’s comments.

“Malitas says the same… he’s not a big fan of Lorroakan. Though I was surprised when he said that, I always thought Lorroakan was supposed to be incredibly powerful,” Saff commented.

“He is incredibly powerful. Whoever this Malitas is clearly doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Rolan said dismissively.

“He’s my master. He’s from Baldur’s Gate as well, and he does know what he’s talking about,” she replied rather defensively. Though given what Gale had said about him in the past, there was the slightest bit of uncertainty in her voice.

“Malitas? Never heard of him,” Rolan said with a shrug, as if that proved he wasn’t worth listening to by virtue of not being famous.

“He likes to keep a low profile.”

“He does? Strange. Any wizard worth his salt should be proud of his skills.”

Gale decided to intervene before an argument started.

“Well, if Lorroakan is as powerful as you say, then I’d very much appreciate it if you could arrange an introduction should we reach the city.”

“Ah yes, a grand idea! I would be happy to. Then you can both see how powerful he is for yourselves.”

Conversation after that, luckily, was a bit more light-hearted. They discussed magic, their favourite spells, and swapped stories of the various disasters they’d each caused during their time spent learning their craft.

Eventually they left to mingle with the others. As the night wore on the wine continued to flow, and soon Alfira had gained a small group of dancers in front of her as she played. Luckily either she hadn’t drunk as much as the rest of them, or if she had, she was much better at playing while drunk than anyone had any right to be.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Karlach called to them as she went to the dancefloor herself. Her enthusiasm was infectious it seemed, as she managed to get Halsin and Astarion up there with her too, though the significant amounts of wine they’d both had probably helped.

Saff’s face lit up and she looked to Gale.

“Let’s go!” she said excitedly, but he shook his head.

“You go dance. I am not one for dancing - especially not when I’ve had quite this much to drink,” he said with a laugh. Though there was an ache in his heart as he said that - in his youth, back at the academy, he was quite the dancer. His was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff’s Ball. But in recent months, it was yet another thing he found he’d lost his love for. A melancholy mood came over him as he thought about it.

“Aww, come on, please?” she begged, taking his arm and trying to pull him along, but he remained resolute.

“Perhaps later. For now, I think I need to sit down. Besides, I’ve had you to myself all evening. The others deserve the pleasure of your company too.” She sighed and folded her arms.

“Alright, later. I’ll hold you to that,” she said playfully, before joining Karlach and the others.

Gale headed back to his tent and sat down on the blankets just outside the door. His shift in mood hung over him until he looked up to see the others and found a smile come to his lips as he saw Saff dancing, smiling widely as she lost herself in the music. He hadn’t realised how skilled a dancer she was and found himself mesmerised as he watched her, the elegant sway of her hips and flow of her arms, each twirl and movement flowing perfectly into the next. It was rude to stare, of course… but he couldn’t help himself now as he watched her dancing in the moonlight.

The songs flew by, until eventually it was just Saff and Karlach left out of their group. Astarion had retreated back to the wine and Halsin back to a quieter corner. Even Saff was beginning to tire, but Karlach looked like she could dance all night.

“Ahh, Saff, I’m so happy!” she declared, holding her arms out wide and soaking in the atmosphere. “All these people, happy, because of us! It’s so good to be back here, in a place where good can still happen. Ten years… ten years I’ve been stuck in the Hells… but this… this is everything I dreamed of coming back to!”

Saff could hear the emotion in her voice, even see tears forming in her eyes as she spoke.

“Well… almost everything,” she said, lowering her arms and looking at Saff with a playful smile. “Now I just need to find a fire-retardant lover to get lost in all night.” She paused and glanced around with a cheeky grin. “Where’s Wyll?”

Saff couldn’t help but laugh.

“I feel, for his sake, I need to remind you he’s not fire-retardant,” she teased.

“I know. Believe me, I know. Not a moment goes by where I don’t curse the world for it.”

“Maybe we need to find you guys a potion of fire resistance.”

“You know, that might help,” she laughed, then went back to looking round. “Hang on - where is Wyll?” she asked, realising she couldn’t actually see him anywhere. Saff looked around too and realised he was nowhere to be seen. “Shit,” Karlach swore, suddenly feeling guilty. “I shouldn’t have left him…”

Saff felt her heart sink too. Had Wyll really only been staying around cause Karlach had made him?

“If he really doesn’t want to be here… then maybe it’s better to let that happen,” she said sadly.

“Maybe… but just because he doesn’t want to be at the party, doesn’t mean he has to be on his own,” Karlach decided. “I’ll go find him.”

“You sure? He wouldn’t want you to miss the party,” she said, knowing how much Karlach had been enjoying herself.

“I’ve been partying all night. I’ve loved every moment of it, but right now… I want to be with him,” she said softly. The sincerity in her voice brought a smile to Saff’s lips. “Plus… I need to free you up to get someone else to dance with you,” she added playfully, throwing a glance in Gale’s direction.

“Pfft, I’ve tried. He won’t,” she said, shaking her head with a disappointed sigh.

“Well you just haven’t tried hard enough! Plus, he’s had more to drink now,” she said with a grin. “Have a dance for me and Wyll. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that she gave her a wave and headed off to find him. Saff sighed softly and glanced around. Shadowheart and Astarion were sat on a rock, sharing what was presumably the good wine, looking like they were judging everyone in the camp. They probably were. Lae’zel was talking to one of the tieflings, Halsin was talking to Zevlor, and Gale was by himself. Well, she decided, it was time to remedy that.

He looked up at her and smiled as she approached.

“Done dancing?” he asked as she sat next to him, lifting the bottle of wine that was sat next to him to offer her some.

“For now,” she answered, holding out her glass. He poured the wine, giving her a generous portion. “Is this a different wine to before?” she asked, giving it a sniff.

“Yes. I finished the other bottle,” he admitted. She chuckled softly and took a sip. “Where did Karlach go?” he asked, having clearly watched their conversation just now.

“To go find Wyll.”

He paused, frowned, then looked around, surprised to see that Wyll had, in fact, disappeared.

“Huh… I didn’t even notice him leave.” He sighed softly and looked into his drink. “I hope he’s ok…”

“I think Karlach’s going to make sure of that,” she said with a confident smile.

“Heh, I hope you’re right. Hard to believe those two were enemies less than a tenday ago. They’ve become fast friends,” he said, and the way he said it implied he was well aware of the budding relationship between them.

“They’re not the only ones,” Saff said, looking up at him. It wasn’t something she’d usually have the courage to say, but the copious amounts of alcohol were certainly helping in that regard. He looked at her in surprise at first, until a smile came to his lips.

“No… I suppose they’re not,” he said softly. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, before Gale spoke again.

“I never knew you were such a good dancer,” he complimented, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a sip.

“You think?” she asked, a slight blush on her cheeks as she looked at him. “Most definitely. Your dancing is like… poetry of the body. Beautiful, elegant… mesmerising, even…” he said softly. The blush on her cheeks deepened and she found herself almost too flustered to reply.

“Well… next time, you’ll just have to join me,” she said, looking at him with a playful smile, hoping the blush wasn’t too obvious.

“Hmm… you’re certainly tempting me to reconsider…” he mused, holding her gaze for a long moment… til he finally leant back a bit and lifted his cup to his mouth. “For now though, you look like you could do with a rest,” he said with a slight chuckle, which she had to agree with.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the wine, the atmosphere, and each other’s company.

“Beautiful night, don’t you think?” Gale said after a while. “Nothing like a brush with death to make one appreciate the majesty of the celestial canvas.”

“It’s stunning,” she agreed, following his gaze up to the stars. “I used to love stargazing back home when I was younger, in the orphanage. One of the books had all the constellations. I’d always try to find them, but I never could,” she admitted, chuckling slightly. He glanced down at her a moment, then back up at the sky.

“Which ones did you look for?” he asked.

“The Centaur. The Woman Warrior. The Huntsman,” she said, listing the first few that came to mind.

Gale looked up, his eyes scanning the sky. He then raised his hand and pointed upwards.

“See that line of stars there?” he asked, carefully tracing the line with his finger.

“Where?” she asked, trying to follow where he was pointing. He glanced down again, then carefully leant down til his head was next to hers, adjusting where he was pointing to match her viewpoint. He moved his arm behind her slightly to rest his weight on.

“There,” he whispered, tracing the outline of the constellation once more. “Can you see it?”

There was a pause, then he heard a small gasp.

“Yes!” she whispered, elation in her voice. He smiled to himself, happy to hear her excitement.

“That’s the Warrior Woman. And over here,” he started, moving his hand to another part of the sky, “rides the Centaur. Do you see him?”

Another pause, followed by another squeal of delight.

“I do!” She could hardly believe it. It had felt impossible to find them on her own, but now they were pointed out, she could see them clear as day. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are, aren’t they?” he agreed, lowering his hand, but staying close to her. “They say in another thousand years he will complete his voyage across the sky and cross swords with the Woman Warrior again, as they did a hundred years ago. Do you know what happened then?” he asked, glancing to her. She shook her head. He looked back to the stars as he spoke. “It is a story of two lovers who sought the destruction of Waterdeep, and the heroes who defended the city. They say it was the hottest day of the year as a great female warrior and a heroic centaur engaged in an arm-wrestle in one of Waterdeep’s most famous taverns, Selûne's Smile, run by an avatar of the goddess herself. The cosmic alignment magnified the power of their contest, which mixed with latent magic amplified by the heat, to tear open a portal. Through that portal came the lovers Aviss and Fellandar, ancient enemies of the city, to wreak a path of destruction. Khelben Arunsun, the Lord Mage of Waterdeep, urged the warrior and the centaur to continue their contest to keep the portal open while the heroes Kyriani Agrivar and Onyx the Invincible pursued the lovers. Luna herself, Selûne's avatar, joined the fight, and with their strength combined they were able to banish the lovers back from whence they came, and the city was saved. The moral of the story is always check the constellations before starting an arm wrestle.”

She laughed at what had sounded like such a serious story followed by such a nonsensical moral.

“Did that really happen?” she asked, looking at him.

“So they say,” he answered, looking back to meet her eyes again. He still hadn’t moved away from where he’d positioned himself earlier, and as they looked into each other’s eyes now, they were close enough to feel the other’s breath on their skin.

“Wild things happen in Waterdeep, don’t they?” she said softly, almost a whisper.

“More than you could believe… you’ll have to come and see for yourself,” Gale replied. He knew he shouldn’t let himself give into this, but he found himself getting lost in her eyes…

“I’d like that…” she whispered, getting equally lost in his eyes, slowly starting to lean closer…

Above them, across the camp, Shadowheart and Astarion watched.

“This has got to be it,” Astarion said, not taking his eyes off them as he sipped his wine.

“It’s not going to happen,” Shadowheart said confidently, only half watching them as she drank. “10 gold says they’re sharing a tent by the end of the night.”

“Ohh, you’re on.”

#gale #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav

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howtotrainabraincell · 3 months

Note

May I request a blurb of Desmond’s teammates insisting he has a rest for once? (Pre or post Lucy whichever)

Of course! Hope I do it justice.

Desmond was exhausted. Utterly exhausted.

He had just experienced everything Ezio felt when he lost Cristina and the overwhelming pain and guilt and anger coursing through him was too much. Everything hurt. His head, his heart, his eyes from the forceful tears shed by the sole Auditore man, his muscles. Everything.

He knew what he had to do. The recovery of his ancestor's memories was important, and it needed to be done. But that didn't mean that it wasn't hard to go through.

Experiencing Ratonhnhaké:ton's pain when he had to watch his mother die and then watch his village get destroyed. Then having to fight his own father who refused to seek peace between the Brotherhood and the Order. Altaïr's anguish when he lost his youngest son Sef and then his wife Maria. It only went further when Altaïr was consumed by guilt for not being able to save his love, and then again when his daughter in law and granddaughters left for Egypt.

Desmond's head and heart began to hurt again just thinking about everything his ancestors had suffered through. They may have had the lives of Assassin's...but it didn't mean that they deserved to suffer.

He could hear two people in the kitchen. Rebecca and Shaun by the voices and the fact that they were the only other two people in the place. They seemed to be arguing, but Desmond's head hurt too much to try and focus on what it was they were saying.

Rebecca pointed at him her eyes narrowed. "I swear to the Isu's if you say one mean or snarky thing to him, I will slap the British out of you."

Shaun quaffed and rolled his eyes. "Am I really that bad to him?"

She looked at him pointedly without saying a word and Shaun sighed relenting. "Alright. I'll be as nice as I can.

"And don't tell him to rest up for the purpose of getting him fit to get back in the Animus. Actually, try to get him to rest. You keep pushing him the way you do, and he'll actually die, instead of just dying on the inside by being emotionally and psychologically traumatized."

The man in glasses watched as Rebecca grabbed the mug of tea she had just made for Desmond.

"Take this to him." She handed the mug off to him carefully. "Without snark."

He spoke sarcastically. "Yes mum."

Rebecca swatted at him aiming to smack his head, and Shaun barely dodged, hissing when a drop of hot water splashed on his hand.

Desmond was hunched over, his elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands. His hair was disheveled, and his skin was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. He had bags under his eyes and dried rings of blood around his nose, from hastily wiped away nosebleeds. It seemed as though he could barely hold himself up, and if he attempted to stand, he would fall over without assistance.

Shaun could see that the man was clearly bone tired from his interactions in the Animus.

He was going to try and be nice. He really was. Lest he be smacked by Rebecca and continue to be a complete arse to the guy who was literally the only reason why they could continue their research.

Shaun's voice was gentle. It didn't sound like him, but he was trying. Far too gentle for the snappy and grouchy man Desmond had gotten to know. "Desmond?"

Desmond looked up slowly squinting as the light hit his sensitive eyes and he was met by the scent of ginger and the sight of a coffee cup.

It was Shaun offering him a cup of tea. He reached up hesitantly wincing as his muscles protested against the action and inhaled the scent. It smelled good. Certainly, better than gunpowder, stale blood, and dirt.

The assassin didn't want to assume anything, but he thought for a moment that the British man had a look of concern on his face. He was probably seeing things. Which wouldn't be a surprise in the least.

He spoke again, once more sounding strange compared to how he normally did. "You need to rest for a while. Recover for the sake of yourself. You've been going too long without proper rest."

Desmond wanted to rebuff his statement and say that he just needed a moment before continuing. But he realized that he did need to rest. He felt like death warmed over itself and something within him told him that if he didn't...he would thoroughly regret it.

Rebecca stood a bit of a ways behind him with her arms crossed observing the both of them. "You need to Des. Seriously. We're not going anywhere. We'll be right here if you need anything."

Shaun nodded in agreement. "It's time to rest mate."

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pr0crastin · 10 months

Text

A teaspoon of crazy

Annie Cresta hasn’t always been always mad. Sometimes, when there’s complete peace- not silence (the silence just sets her off) but the kind of peace that comes from sitting in a meadow after it’s rained and listening to the chirping crickets- she can remember what it’s like to have a mind that makes sense.

She remembers inventing her own recipes for these eccentric desserts which people were always wary of trying and would then always end up demolishing.

She remembers having the attention span to sit and complete an entire five thousand piece puzzle. Now, most days her hands shake too much for her to even tear the plastic wrapping off the box.

But here in the meadow, with the smell of petrichor and the soft grass under her fingers, she feels like maybe she could pretend to be a normal girl, if only just for a little while. Of course the peace doesn’t last, it never does. No one is stupid enough to think that winning the hunger games means you’re safe.

Not even when you drive a stake through the heart of your last remaining enemy. No. Shank isn’t the enemy. He didn’t choose to leave his sickly mother and his five little brothers to fight to death in a cage for the amusement of rich people. Shank isn’t the enemy and he doesn’t deserve this, so Annie closes her eyes and imagines she’s driving the stake through Snow. It doesn’t make it easier, but it gets her out of that arena.

Her mentor is waiting on the other side, and he looks like he was in there with her. Annie is screaming. She’s exhausted down to her bones, and her voice barely works anymore (she wonders if it ever will again), but she can feel Shank’s blood on her fingers and she can’t stop screaming. She wants it off. She wants it gone. (She wants to be gone, too, but that’s harder to explain)

Everyone is very confused. She just won the 70th Hunger Games- she should be singing from the rooftops and celebrating. She’s safe.

Of course she’s not, not really. She knows it, and, as Coriolanus Snow crowns her the victor with his crocodile smile, he knows it too.

But there’s one other person who also knows it. He’s the only one who looks even half as destroyed as she feels. He always runs to her when he sees her. The first time it happens, she has just come out of the arena and she can’t stop the shrieking sounds which keep clawing themselves out of her throat. He gathers her in his arms and squeezes her so tight that she feels her bones rattle.

But she also feels her screams die down as he contains them in his arms, and she thinks that if he keeps holding her like this, she might be able to live with herself just a little.

After that, Finnick always runs when he sees her. It’s funny that he runs towards her with the speed at which other people run away. No one can come too close to Crazy Annie, because no one knows what she might do next. The poor girl won the Hunger Games and came out of it mad.

“I don’t think I ever made it out of that arena,” she whispers one day. It’s a calm day, peaceful enough for her to sort through the noise in her head and hold a conversation. But that probably has more to do with the person holding her. The day didn’t start off calm, but looking at her now, it’s impossible to tell that she was seconds from ripping out her own throat only moments ago.

“I don’t think any of us did, my love,” he whispers against her hair. She loves it when he whispers against her hair. Especially on days where everything sounds like static and she can feel the fabric of her clothes rubbing against her skin. When he holds her like a promise and murmurs into her hair, she feels settled enough to take out of his hands and play with his fingers without thinking about breaking them.

Other times, when she feels coherent, Annie wonders when Finnick will finally decide he’s had enough. He has no shortage of options- he could court anyone from the most beautiful woman in the Capitol to Snow’s daughter herself. Annie wants him to go. There is so much out there for him and she loves him so much that she wants him to have it all.

She wants him to go, but it seems she doesn’t love him enough to let him go.

It makes her mad when he stays, too. And when she gets mad, she takes it out on him. He doesn’t deserve this, she thinks in a moment of clarity, as she aims a vase for his head. His lightening fast reflexes save him, of course, he didn’t win the Hunger Games for nothing, and the glass shatters against the wall, taking an ugly painting with it.

Maybe he did win the Hunger Games for nothing, she tells him, because he’s wasting away his freedom shackled to her.

“You think I feel shackled to you?” He says, and his sea green eyes swim with hurt. Haven’t I done enough to prove that I love you? the hunch of his shoulders says. She absolutely hates herself for hurting him, and she takes that out on him, too.

“I feel shackled to you!” She screams, and can’t he see that she’s trying to be selfless? She will always need him, but he doesn’t need her. And he definitely doesn’t deserve her. She lobs a fork at him, as if to prove her point, and he dodges it. He catches the candle labra and sidesteps the flying metal tray, and he does it so calmly that she feels more and more unhinged with each step he takes towards her. He pauses when she reaches for the chair, and then he moves faster than she can.

He runs to her, and Annie freezes. She understands now, why he runs. He’s trying to get to her before her demons do, she thinks with a choked sob, and sinks to her knees with it.

There are no words, just arms which feel like home lifting her as if she weighs nothing and carrying her away from the mess that she has created herself. Her Their living room is a good reflection of what’s going on inside her mind, and it’s ironic that it’s also symbolic of their relationship.

She just wants to be normal.

“I’m never going to change,” she mutters, over and over again as he lays her down on the bed. She clutches at him like he’ll disappear if she loosens her grip, because surely no one is this good. No one is this pure. He must be a hallucination.

“Good,” the look he gives her is long and hard. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Finnick Odair and Crazy Annie,” she scoffs, and her breathing is sporadic. He places a hand over her heart to settle her, and she doesn’t wonder why it works. She wonders if she sounds as bitter as she feels. “The Golden Boy and his Lunatic.”

There are fingers on her chin, tipping her head up towards the most brilliant pair of eyes. Even in her haziest moments, she never forgets the ring of green in a sea of blue, sparkling with an emotion she can’t quite put her finger on.

“Yes,” he says, and a part of her is grateful he doesn’t correct her- doesn’t bother with false consolations that she will be okay one day. “My Lunatic.”

“You don’t have to have a lunatic,” she chokes out, but it comes as more of a sob, and she can feel her vision blur with the same tears she cried when she made her first kill. She feels like she’s killing Finnick, too. “You deserve a normal girl.”

He closes his eyes when the second word leaves her mouth, as if he doesn’t want to listen to the rest. Maybe it’s because he knows what’s coming and he’s tired of being reminded of his situation. Doesn’t he understand that she’s giving him a way out? It hurts to be selfless, and most of the time even her thoughts aren’t her own, but for him, shes trying. For him, she wants something better.

“There is nothing better,” he says sharply, and she wonders if she even thinks in her head anymore. Nothing, he says, not no one. As if he knows that she believes there is not just a greater person but a better situation for him to be in. “And if there is, I don’t want it I-”

His voice breaks and Annie makes a wish. She wishes she was someone who could comfort him. She has no words, not even the gibberish ones, so she offers a hand at the back of his head, buried in his bronzed curls to pull him closer even though she was supposed to be pushing him away.

“When will you understand,” he whispers into the skin of her neck, and she doesn’t remember much, but she remembers what it is to shiver. “There’s no normal for people like you and me. You are my normal girl.”

She doesn’t speak, because it’s easier to be selfish this way. There’s only so much of herself she can sacrifice in trying to let him go. Maybe she’ll succeed some other day, when she’s stronger. And better. There is nothing better. He presses his nose to her jaw, as if he can hear her thoughts and he knows he needs to remind her.

The fight drains out of her.

Annie pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his hair, hoping it will bring him the same comfort he brings her, even though it’s impossible for anything to feel like what Finnick makes her feel.

His eyes were sparkling at her, she realises.

#finnick odair #annie cresta #finnick x annie #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #catching fire #mockingjay #not all of these tags are valid I’m sorry #I don’t know who told me I had the capacity to write about what’s it’s like to be mad

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neonponders · 1 year

Text

For @billyhargrovebingo

~ read on ao3 ~

C1 - Android

• • •

A hospital was a strange place for quality time. Mostly, it was the carpool journeys there, since everyone needed regular visits after Starcourt. Tinnitus, concussions, and blood tests were just a few of the situations they were all dealing with.

And if Steve wasn’t available, it’s because he was already at the hospital. Max had a newly instated VIP seat in his car, much to the annoyance of Dustin (who wanted Steve’s time and attention) and Lucas (who couldn’t help but feel cast aside).

Max couldn’t really blame them for not caring about her brother. Hell, she didn’t understand her own depths of affection for him until recently. The shrinks of the hospital kept talking about the Five Stages of Grief as if she were supposed to give a shit about five processes.

Max was thoroughly stuck in the bargaining phase. And she’d stay there until whatever god finally delivered his side of the bargain.

Turns out, it did. Billy Hargrove was alive, and after a long surgery where Steve Harrington of all people held Max’s hand and gripped her shoulder during her erratic mood swings of crying, Billy woke up.

A pacemaker. The god keeping her brother alive was a little, man-made, battery powered device making sure the rhythm of his heart kept time with the right music.

Max could barely make out what the doctors were saying in the hallway. It was a load of information for her mom and stepfather - two people who seemed radically different after July fourth. Neil Hargrove was...just a man. A man who had been humbled down to his knees when he learned that his son was alive, but with a caveat. And her mom...Max could see her visibly overwhelmed with the steep learning curve for taking care of an intense trauma victim.

The device will need to be replace every five to seven years, but that’s routine procedure, nothing to worry about. I daresay, he’ll be able to live a normal life - so long as he stays away from cigarettes and anything more chemically advanced than food. He’s going to be a walking miracle. Four stomach pumps, almost a dozen blood transfusions, a scattering of fractures...that young man has a hell of an angel on his side. While the bones are recovering, I want weekly x-rays and monthly MRI’s. The physical stuff we can handle, but as for his psychological wellfare, that will be a tougher, longer journey...

Max blinked stupidly, because with the doctor’s voice droning out the background hospital noise, it was hard not to focus on Steve Harrington laying a big fat kiss on her brother’s mouth.

It was desperate, like Billy was his water in a desert...but gentle, like Billy were made of tissue paper and Steve was terrified of leaving a dent or wrinkle.

Max peeked at the window, worried her mom and stepfather might notice, but they were entrenched in the crash course for Billy’s new instruction manual -

“You don’t get to die,” Steve croaked. For some reason, witnessing Steve crying shook Max’s core more than her own parents’ tears. The guy just...didn’t do that. It was a little too easy to ignore an anchor like that until his rock was lying in bed with more injuries than a fresh eighteen year old had any right to have.

Steve’s hand cradled the junction of Billy’s skull and neck. Blue eyes blinked up at him, not fully conscious, but also not interested in anything other than a sky of big, doe eyes. “Not with a battery in your chest, you damn robot.”

The next day, Dustin chimed, “So he’s like Ironman?”

Lucas frowned at him. “It’s not a pacemaker in Tony Stark’s chest, dude.”

“But it’s protecting his heart. It’s kind of like a pacemaker.”

“It sounds more like a built-in defibrillator.”

“What the hell is that?” Dustin exclaimed.

Lucas pantomimed rubbing his fists together and then connecting them to Dustin’s torso with a jolt of his body. Dustin understood and nodded, “Oh, those medical electrocution things...Where are you going?”

Max sighed as she shouldered her backpack and swung her skateboard underneath her arm. “Turns out, the hospital has the best parking lots for skateboarding. Later, nerds.”

Under her breath, she remarked, “I’d rather watch two idiots make out than whatever this is.”

For better and worse, she got her bargain.

#harringrove #billyhargrovebingo #billy bingo #max's pov #third party pov #neonponders #ficlet #post s3

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sharpredclaws · 7 months

Text

Let's talk about the live action Avatar the last airbender, and the changes made to Aang's personality and character arc.

I understand why they removed many of the side adventures and goofing off from Aang for this version of the show. They needed to pare the story down to its bones for a shorter runtime and animating all of the creatures that Aang tries to ride would have been a nightmare for their CGI budget.

However, by taking out Aang's avoidance of responsibility and fear of his destiny, and replacing it with focus on his goals and fear of his power, they've undermined a lot of his character arc and don't provide enough context for WHY he is the way he is in the new show.

In the live action, he didn't run away that night of the storm, he went flying to clear his head and think. Which makes the scenes where Kyoshi and Bumi berate him for avoiding his responsibilities make no sense at all. References to Aang goofing off don't land, because he HASN'T BEEN. This kid has had his eyes on the prize since episode 1. It's frustrating for the same reason Sokka constantly calling Katara a little girl have been. When has she acted that way, in what way is this accusation accurate? It isn't.

Instead of making Aang afraid of the responsibility, they've made him afraid of his power. He's concerned he'll harm someone. While this is true to his character and a clever trait to emphasize, what's important to remember is that in the original show, Aang didn't start fearing his power until The Deserter, the episode where he accidentally burns Katara while learning to firebend. In that episode, we're given clear justification for his fear, because we see the consequences of when he isn't in control of his bending.

This trait also plays into the original story's ending, when he agonizes over having to kill Ozai. So again, it's an excellent choice to start depicting this in season 1. The problem is that they're not showing us. They're telling us.

In this new show, all we get is one flashback reference to Aang blowing a bunch of other students off a cliff while learning to airbend, and when he scares Katara and Sokka with the Avatar state at the air temple. I think this was a terrible choice. Aang was never afraid of his own element, and the scene at the air temple barely focused on Sokka and Katara's fear of him, so calling back to that later in this show didn't have the impact I think they meant it to. There was almost no emotional weight to the flashback scene, it wasn't given any time to breathe or make you really feel the fear this is supposed to inspire in Aang. Which would be less of a problem if this was meant to foreshadow future problems and fear. But it isn't.

It's being sold as the core, fundamental foundation of Aang's character arc. When his core was fun and avoiding responsibility, we saw that all the time, over and over, reinforced again and again with actions, dialog, and plot that showed who Aang is and how he will evolve in the course of the show.

That lighthearted fun is why he was able to build bridges, connect with people, make them laugh.

The live action just states these things. And expects us to accept it, without actually showing us.

I said when I started the show that the writing was weak, and after finishing season 1, I stand by that assessment. The cast is killing it and the bending looks phenomenal, but I have huge issues with the writing. I might break down the problems with Katara as well because *whew*....yeah. She's a problem.

#avatar the last airbender #aang

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justalonelyslytherin · 2 years

Text

Blankets - Ari Levinson

Pairing: Ari Levinson x female Reader

Summary: Coming home from his mission Ari wants nothing more than to see his family again. His wishes are fulfilled when they surprise him at the airport.

Warnings: none, fluff

Wordcount: 2.1k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: This is part or @flufftober's Flufftober 2022 and my 300 Follower Celebration. The beautiful fall-themed dividers are by the lovely @/firefly-graphics

A bone-deep exhaustion encircled Ari as he stepped through the sliding doors into the arrivals hall. After months of living at the desert shore in Sudan and saving hundreds of thousands of people, he was finally home.

There were still more people looking to leave the borders of their land and more work to do. They all agreed to find another solution to help the ones who still needed it but for now, they had to rest.

The travel bag slung over his shoulder was light, besides clothes he had barely bought anything with him on the mission. His most precious valuables he wouldn’t have been able to bring anyways. They had stayed safe at home.

Behind him, the rest of his team followed into the hall: Max, Jake, Sam, and Rachel. Sam had his arm slung over Rachel, who was leaning against his side. The two of them had grown closer over the course of the mission. Ari was happy for his friends.

“We’ll meet up soon. To drink,” Jake said. Laughter erupted between them and they grinned at each other as they nodded in agreement before it was time for Jake and Max to part ways first.

Ari looked at Sam, both of them quiet and rather serious. Much had happened between the two before and during the mission and Ari wasn’t yet sure how his (former) friend now felt toward him after everything that had happened. A hand was held out towards him, Sam prompting him to do the same with a nod. Ari didn’t hesitate to grab Sam’s hand, and as he did he got pulled towards him and enveloped in a hug. It made Ari happy. The thought of losing Sam as a friend after all the things they had gone through together and all the time they had known each other had been upsetting to him.

“We’ll see each other soon,” Rachel said when they broke away. She smiled at Ari as she tugged on Sam’s arm. “And then you’ll introduce me to your girls.” Ari nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at the thought of them. He couldn’t wait to see them again. Rachel glanced over his shoulder, making Ari crook his head to the side. She started to smirk before her eyes drifted back toward him. Her small nod toward whatever was behind him had him turn around and look too. That was when he saw them.

The biggest grin broke out on his face. Only for a second did he turn back towards his two friends, both of them now smiling at him and nodding encouragingly. Rachel waved her hand to shoo him away which had Ari chuckle. Without wasting another second he turned, his feet moving on their own as he took big steps toward his happiness.

There stood his girls. His beautiful wife, smiling so brightly towards him as she noticed his approach. She tapped the shoulder of the young girl standing beside her. Ari watched his daughter's head turn first to her mother and then towards him as she followed the pointing finger. Recognition bloomed across her face, her small body not able to turn as fast as she wanted to get toward him.

“Daddy!” she screamed full of enthusiasm and happiness. Like a whirlwind, she zoomed through the hall towards him. Ari’s heart raced with equal happiness, glad to see his family again. As much as he loved his job, as much as he felt a duty to help those people in need, it was incredibly hard for him to leave his own family behind for it. It never became easier to leave them for such long periods of time with minimal to no contact.

His travel bag fell to the floor with a heavy thud as he kneeled down on one knee and opened his arms. Spread wide out to his sides like two giant wings he awaited his perfect little girl to come barreling into his embrace. And barreling she did. It knocked the air out of him as she slammed into his chest with full force but there was no better feeling at that moment. Instantly her small arms slung around his neck, her legs followed quickly around his waist. Ari wasted no time either wrapping her in his arms and embracing his little girl. Softly pressing her against his chest, he placed one of his big hands on her head to press her face against his shoulder too.

“Hi baby girl,” he whispered. His eyes started watering upon feeling the loving and warm presence of her against him. The overwhelming happiness of having her back had him sniffling as he nuzzled his nose against her dark hair. “I missed you so so much.”

Ari could feel his daughter nuzzle against his shoulder too as her hands buried themselves in his shirt the more her grip tightened.

“I missed you too daddy.” Her little voice, muffled against his neck, had his heart leap in his chest. Gently he pressed a kiss to her dark mop, the same hair she shared with him.

“You have gotten so big,” he told her, tickling her side and making her giggle quietly, “let me see you properly.” Reluctantly she let go of him, letting him put her down on the ground so he could see how tall she had gotten. Quietly rumbling, he nodded to himself. “If you keep growing like that you’ll be as tall as me one day.” That made her giggle and shake her head.

“No?” Ari asked amused. As she held her arms out for him once more, he complied. With ease, he lifted her back into his arms. “Mommy,” he heard her mumble and felt her head turn, and then he followed her pointing finger toward his wife.

He took his time looking her up and down while he slowly stood up. She was as beautiful as the last time he had seen her, maybe even more so. She always got more beautiful whenever he hadn’t seen her in a while and this time was no exception. Radiating she was, positively glowing he found.

His eyes dropped from her happy face downwards once more. Ari’s heart soared when he recognized the blanket draped around her. Their special blanket. Once upon a time, it had been a normal blanket. One he hadn’t spent much thought on deciding upon, simply that it was soft and warm, as he had hastily bought it for a first date.

A first date that had led to many others, a long and happy relationship, and ultimately marriage with a wonderful family. He still remembered their first date, when he had taken her out on a picnic. There they used the blanket to sit on while they talked for hours until the sun started setting. On the drive back home they had then taken a discourse into the desert where they had watched the stars on the truck bed of Ari’s car. Tucked underneath the blanket for warmth they had snuggled for the first time, the spark between them turning into a flame that would only grow stronger from then on out.

Out of pure coincidence, the blanket had become a companion throughout all their relationship. It had been with them at every important milestone. They had their first date on that blanket, their first kiss, even their first time. Ari had proposed to her during a picnic like their first date had been on the blanket and they even had it with them for their wedding night and honeymoon. Lastly, their daughter had been covered with it as they had brought her home from the hospital.

Seeing his wife now with it wrapped around her arms brought Ari back to all those moments. The memories swirled around him and with them all the emotions he had felt during them. There was an overwhelming love coursing through him, bringing him to the brink of tears once more as he took long strides toward the love of his life.

A heavy but happy sight left him when he finally reached her. “Hello neshama sheli (my soul),” he greeted her with a deep and happy rumble.

“Hello my love,” she answered him. He could hear the emotions in her voice, see the glimmer of happy tears brimming in her eyes. She sniffled happily as her hand reached out and touched his cheek. Ari leaned into the caress, closing his eyes to delve entirely into the moment and enjoy it. Opening his eyes again, he didn’t look away from his beautiful, beautiful star, even as he set his daughter down beside them.

Ari wrapped his arms around his wife, gently squeezing her to his body as he leaned his forehead against hers. Their noses brushed against each other, their breaths mixing together. He breathed her in, deeply to commit her scent once more to his memory.

“I love you,” he whispered, hearing her mumble her reciprocation against his lips. Before she could finish the sentence he had pressed his lips against hers. Ari hadn’t kissed her in so long, he couldn’t wait a second longer to feel her soft and oh-so-kissable lips against his.

It happened too fast for his liking when she pulled back, he was a starved man after all. Starved of the affection of his wife, of the feeling of her body molding against his, of their lips connecting. So when she pulled back he leaned in again, stealing another kiss from her lips and after that one more for luck. If he had been able to, he would have never stopped kissing her.

With their foreheads pressed against one another and their noses touching he glanced down at her. The soft and content smile on her lips had him grinning too. It was then that his eyes flit down further, stumbling over the slit of the blanket that revealed what was further hidden under it. A heavy but happy sigh left his lips seeing the small bundle in her arms, tightly secured under the blanket and only revealed from this close proximity. Ari’s heart swelled even more with a love he didn’t know he could have more of.

The babe’s head was resting against its mother’s chest, snuggled contently into her warm embrace with its eyes closed. Long lashes dusted against rosy cheeks, blissfully ignorant of everything that happened outside of the guarded space in her mother’s arms. Ari choked on a noise, overwhelmed to meet the newest addition to their family. Finally. He had missed so much and waited so long for this moment to happen. The little one had been quite the surprise. It had pained him greatly to have missed the majority of his wife’s pregnancy and the birth of his second child. He'd already committed to the mission, deep in the preparations when his wife had fallen pregnant once more. Now he was simply happy to be here, meeting his little one for the first time. It was an incredible feeling. One of elation and a surge of pure love.

Sniffing once more, Ari wiped one of his big hands over the lower half of his face. The motion of rubbing over his beard was soothing. He watched with eager eyes as his wife carefully lifted the little one out of her arms and into his. Eagerly he took the baby, the small thing nearly drowning amid his big arms. She looked as comfortable and peaceful in his arms as she had been in her mother’s, it warmed his heart once more. Taking her in attentively, he took notice of the small button nose, the blue eyes - his eyes - so big and curiously looking up at him, the cute mouth that pulled into a smile and soon released a giggle.

“She is perfect.” One look and he had been absolutely smitten. Ari glanced back up at his wife who was eyeing him and their little one enamored. With one hand he pulled her to him, his hand splaying on the back of her head, her hair weaved between his fingers and leaned in for another kiss. “I am so proud of you and so thankful that you have given me the greatest gift in the world not once but twice now. You are making me the happiest man.

I love you, light of my life.”

Ari felt her nuzzle against him, her smile against his neck. Raising her head she pressed a kiss of her own onto his lips, making him rumble contently.

“Welcome home.”

#sly's 300 #flufftober2022 #the red sea diving resort #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fluff #ari levinson fic

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mrbexwrites · 1 month

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OC Deep Dive

Tagged by @finickyfelix here - thanks buddy! :D

Passing the tag onto @queen-tashie @arowanaprincess @akiwitch @pure-solomon @sarahlizziewrites @mjparkerwriting @mjjune @surroundedbypearls @words-after-midnight and leaving an open tag for folk who'd like to join in :)

Working on Blood Union so Mavis is currently at the fore, so I'll answer for her :)

What common/uncommon fears do they have?

In addition to her fears of failure and not living up to James' impossible standards, Mavis' deepest, darkest fear that she will never tell anyone, is that she is worthless and unlovable. I hope that, over the course of her arc, she learns that she's not- even if I do have to put her through the wringer to learn this lesson. She's a stubborn OC...

Do they have any pet peeves?

People who chew with their mouths open. Mavis is of the strongest opinion that she can kill these people on sight. A bit extreme...sure, but Mavis isn't someone to do things by half measure!

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A weapon (usually a knife or a crowbar), camping supplies (in case of a quick getaway!) and medical supplies.

What do they notice first in a person?

Weak points; Mavis is checking you out for a limp, how you weight bare, how you hold yourself, and is willing, ready & able, to use it against you and make you eat concrete (or whatever flooring surface is around!)

On a scale of 1 to 10 how high is their pain tolerance?

An 8 or 9; she's had a tough life, and been conditioned to withstand a lot by James. You'll very rarely see her cry or show pain, so if she is, you know it's bad.

Do they go into flight or fight mode when under pressure?

Fight; 100% fight. See fondness for crowbars and violence to solve problems.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

She comes from a nuclear family with two parents and a twin brother. But due to circumstances, she only grew up with her father, James. Whilst he was her only biological family member that she physically grew up around, she was always surrounded by other demon hunters and considered them family. Despite everything she's been through, Family is the most important thing to Mave- even if she'll never admit it.

What animal represents them best?

Honey badger- small, vicious, unstoppable force of nature, willing to take on something far bigger than they are. Doesn't know when to quit...etc etc

What is a smell they dislike?

Corpses, tobacco and unwashed feet. Yuck!

Have they broken any bones?

Of her own, or others? Either way, the answer is 'yes' and 'lots of them'.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Average height with unruly hair. Scowls a lot, and gives off hostile vibes. Don't approach unless you have no other option. Will be surly when spoken to and doesn't make eye contact either. Usually wears a leather jacket, old t-shirt and jeans.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

A bit of both; Mavis will sit up until the wee hours due to a lifetime of keeping watch, but will also get up at the crack of dawn after a couple of hours sleep. Does that make her a night bird, or a morning owl?

What is a flavor they love and a flavor they hate?

Will go absolutely go feral for fresh fruit- oranges are her favourite. Whilst she will eat pretty much anything, because you can't be fussy when you never know when your next meal will come, Mavis isn't keen on rabbit, or other strong game-y flavours.

Do they have any hobbies?

Her all consuming need to gain her father's approval is the only thing that she has time for. But, I think after some character development and time away from James, she'd probably enjoy macramé or some other kind of craft to keep her hands busy

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Punch to the face! Don't sneak up on her! She doesn't like surprises; they put her into her fight-mode.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

She has several piercings in her ears so that she can wear enough silver through her body to not be possessed by demons.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Mavis didn't have a formal education, so her handwriting is very messy & childish- like a 7 year old's.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Frustration and worthlessness.

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Brushed cotton- like you'd find on a vintage t-shirt

What kind of accent do they have?

Mavis has grown up on the road, so she has a Scottish accent, but no particular dialect to pin her down to a specific place.

#mavis baird #tag game

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finnritter · 1 year

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Gondolin Week 2023 - Day Two: Ceremony of Silence

Aredhel, FA 319, June 1

It is a dangerous feat, Aredhel knows, looking for sunrises in Nan Elmoth. She stubbornly tells herself that the only danger lies in how fickle the branches of even the thickest trees are up here, how easy it is to miss a foothold in the dark, and how long the way down. She, of course, trusts her skills, shaped by years and years of scraping her palms and knees on rough bark, and she reaches the top of the mighty beech crown with ease, trained eyes even finding a spot where she can sit and lean against the trunk in what borders on comfort.

Truly, she thinks, as she looks down and imagines how many bones she would break if she fell and yet without any trace of fear that it will actually happen, how dangerous it is to catch as little as a sunrise here.

The real danger, no, the other, lesser, danger, the one she spitefully banned from her mind, she resolutely shoves away. because she is not afraid of him. Why should she be, she chose him of her own free will, there is nothing to be afraid of. She will not be caught anyway. Who would catch her here, and why should it be wrong. Being caught is barely a danger at all.

It is easier, somehow, banning all thoughts of him up here. The further she climbs, the higher she reaches, the lesser she feels the dark, eerie gloominess of his ban on her. It is easy to fall into his steps, his routine, down there. It is easy to forget about time and space, to open up to his grasping possessiveness, to the knowledge that she is his whole world. She and the child that he yet knows nothing about.

Up here, further from his grasp and the spell he seems to have casted over the forest, it is easier to consider not telling him about the child at all. But what would that solve? Nothing if she were to stay here.

Aredhel turns to stare down into the abyss below her again. One hand she lets dangle, then the other, still entirely trusting her sense of balance to keep her safely on top of the branch. She thinks about falling again, the true danger up here, reminds herself that she ought not be scared of a person she had decided to love, and lets her head drop back to stare up into the darkness of the canopy above her.

She might have missed the date. Time is hard to keep track of, here, without sun or stars to guide her. But the exact date doesn't matter, as she is not truly celebrating. There is no one to burst into laughter and song with her on the first ray of light that would maybe be able to force itself through some of the cracks in the canopy this high up. On the contrary, the birds would start singing way before the first light of day, as they do every morning.

And yet, she sits in silence, and in the noise of her own thoughts, and waits for the night to fade.

Rog, FA 401, June 1

It has taken Rog a while to get used to living in a city as big as Gondolin.

After his escape from thralldom, he has sought solitude and stillness first of all, until he noticed, that while initially more soothing, he could only really start to heal with company and a purpose.

He has more than enough of both, now, and by now he is able to embrace the ever-present noise of wheels clattering over cobblestone, metallic clanging that could be heard ways away from the several forges of the city, and people chatting and singing outside his window from early in the morning to deep in the night.

The noise of the city belongs to his new life like food and drink, and he has learned to love it even after his initial hesitations. And yet, this one night every year, when everything stands still for a few hours, the only sound being the bright rippling of the water in all the fountains, never lost its magic to him. It is a little like taking a big breath of fresh air after stepping out of a stuffy room, or like stretching a sore muscle until the tension abates.

He likes the quiet of the night before Tarnin Austa, not only for the glorious moment of breaking the silence, but also for itself. A perfect opportunity to let his thoughts wander free, and to watch others doing the same.

Egalmoth, who is standing next to him, hands folded behind his back and gaze turned up to the stars, has a tiny smile drawn across his face, one that makes him look thoughtful and pondering and as young as he actually is. He senses Rog’s looks on him and turns towards him, the smile widening into a full grin. The movement catches a reflection of the starlight in his jewellery, a small taste for how the long awaited sunlight will soon make his whole outfit glitter and sparkle. His thoughts are surely on the feast, on the celebrations to come, always focussed on the future with anticipation and hope.

Rog returns the smile, and looks forward to the first words he will speak with his friend on this first day of summer.

On his other side, a few steps behind him, Ecthelion and Glorfindel are perched up on a half-height wall, the latter shuffling around as subtly as possible every other minute. Glorfindel may be surprisingly good at not talking, but he is not very good at not moving, which, although not strictly necessary, is mostly common practice all through the night of silence. He falls a little out of place in between the stillness of the king and all his lords and ladies assembled high above the city on the palace's grand balcony.

The starlight seems to dim the golden radiance that encapsulates him wherever he goes, and the night shadows his resolute face in an almost roguish sombreness. It is hard to guess what he is thinking about, but the bold restlessness is clearly written on his face and into the way he leans back on his arms now, making his shoulders roll back and his upper body tense like a cat before pouncing.

This is in stark contrast to Ecthelion, who sits still as a statue, even while wearing his most formal pieces of armour, his hands resting on his knees and his chin raised. His eyes are open and he seems too alert to be appearing anywhere close to sleep, and yet Rog can imagine that he is nowhere near this reality at the moment. He must be letting his thoughts roam, an attempt to rest and clear his mind for the night. And still he looks, as always, like an image of pure control.

This is also true of the king, who is standing in the middle of the balcony, close to the railing, as if keeping watch over his people. And yet, his restraint is not natural, not effortless. It never is.

While Rog has always been endlessly grateful for Turgon's kindness and inclusion towards him and the people who everyone knew as his house nowadays, he knows his king not as well, not as personally as some of the other lords do. He wonders, sometimes, if all that stiff composure is hiding any cracks,

His eyes dart over to the unfamiliar silhouette that stands next to him, a lean, cowering shadow, all stiff shoulders and hunched back as if he wanted to vanish into the invisible shade his uncle throws over him like a cloak.

Rog, who usually has a good eye for such things, can not tell how old the boy is. He handlea himself like an adult, albeit a young one, but something about the way he clenches his jaw and the defiant tightness around his mouth make him look so young. Elflings grow up a lot faster in times of war, but for his sake - and for Aredhel's, whose bright spirit and boldness he still misses sometimes - he regrets that the same seems to be true for elflings raised alone in a forest.

Like Egalmoth before, Maeglin catches his gaze. Unlike Egalmoth, he doesn't smile, but he also doesn't look away. Rog imagines him staring at him, although it is hard to tell through the dark-toned lenses protecting his sensitive eyes not only from sunlight, but also curious glances thrown in his direction. And still, it is not hard to guess what he is thinking of.

Rog looks away first, not wanting to protrude the boy’s privacy. He follows Egalmoth’s gaze again instead, carefully leaning his head back until the view of the stars up above them almost makes him dizzy.

They are bright tonight, piercing the sky like a million needles through a dark sheet of cloth. It is quiet, and it will be quiet till morning come.

Rog closes his eyes and turns his gaze inwards instead, revelling in the silence.

Maeglin, FA 510, June 1

The memories of the first Tarnin Austa he has experienced are very muddled in Maeglin’s brain. A lot more important things have happened in that year, a lot more things that kept his attention more than a festival he did not want to celebrate.

Of the celebrations themselves, he remembers barely anything. He has slipped away early, most likely. Presumably, nobody has expected him to stay very long or attend at all. He can’t even remember why he chose to come at all. Not that it matters, now.

The only thing he does clearly remember is the moment midnight struck and the city fell silent all of a sudden. Of course he had been explained the customs and rites of this particular night, and yet he did not expect the ceremony of silence to be so impressive. So terrifying.

He has most likely thought, back then, that he would like that part of the festivities the most. The city is noisy, always, and it used to be more than off putting for him that there was nowhere to flee from this persistent lively hum. Blocking it out has become second nature to him now.

And yet, on this first night of his first June in Gondolin, waiting to welcome the day - even though Maeglin did prefer nighttime to the sunlight even then - he was standing next to his uncle, whom he had known only for a few short and messy months, and was so taken aback by the silence that he had to stop himself from trembling in fear.

He has since gotten used to it, he likes the ceremony now, it feels uplifting and like a moment to breathe, but back then, the silence was just oppressing. Dreadful. He felt, all of a sudden, alone with his thoughts, even more so than in his still almost empty room or any other quiet corner he liked to withdraw to. The universe felt endless; the space in his lungs too small, and he couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop seeing things that he wished to just forget.

He could feel the pain and fear flow out of him like water and so he clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists until his knuckles were cracking. He didn’t want anyone to see - feeling stripped naked every time someone looked at him and their eyes met - and he didn’t want anyone to feel either. He worried that Idril might feel his terror, and he tried his hardest to hide it from her. She shouldn’t see him as the weakling he was, she shouldn’t like him out of pity, she should stop looking at him like he was a child-

…

Over a century later, Maeglin is not scared of the silence, anymore. He can master his own thoughts now, and even if he slips up sometimes, time has made him used to even the most horrible of unwanted thoughts. He can look his worst memories in the eye now because he knows that they are just that: Memories. His mind, and what he does with it, is his own. At least that much he has learned here.

Or so he thought.

In the past weeks, even the loudest forge has not managed to drown out the turmoil the Enemy has left behind in his head. There are voices, and pain, promises and threats mingling together in a way that makes him barely aware of what of it is real and what isn’t. It doesn’t truly matter. He felt like he had a purpose when he was sent back, at least, but even that is gone now, along with the bare threads of morality he thought he had been taught, somewhen, somewhere.

He thought he had settled with that, thought he could steer his body to its purpose like an empty shell.

But now the uncommon silence of the city weighs down on him like a tower crashed down, and the night is eerie and terrifying. His mother’s dead eyes stare right through him. His father’s last words are mocking him. Why didn’t he die sooner? Why didn’t he tell anyone what he did? Why is the city not yet up in flames, because it should be, he wants it to be, this cursed place that he used to love despite everything. His home. He wants it to go up in flames, wants it to crumble under pressure like he did.

A thought comes to him that he should worry about still being in the midst of it when it catches on well-deserved fire. Surely that was not the bargain he struck. Not that he cares much either.

It’s too quiet. It’s too loud at the same time. Maeglin plunges himself into the noise, this time, instead of trying to force it out, until he feels himself dissolve in it, acid eating into his bare flesh.

For the first time in many years, he wishes more than anything for the night to be over.

#i'm a little late on that one bc my pc managed to crash yesterday #let's see if i manage the actual prompt for today as well #anyway did i say that the next prompts wouldn't be as long as the first? well i lied apparently #silmarillion #fall of gondolin #aredhel #rog #maeglin #silm fic #silmarillion fic #my writing #gondolinweek #gondolinweek2023

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impawsiblecat · 4 months

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100 Days of Deathduo

Traffic Life AU: Red

Would like to clarify that this story was written out of order and is going to be posted out of order and without context. Sorry about that! Have not written the first few chapters yet.

Tw: temporary character death and violence

Of course Thyme would come when Icee was away mining, preparing. Neither of them had gotten anything, they hadn’t made sure they were prepared, hadn’t know they needed to prepare, and now Clover is on the run from a red Thyme with iron armor and a single golden apple found from a chest. Alone. There’s food in the furnace, Clover’s contribution, and wheat that has yet to be turned into bread on the crafting table, but that isn’t going to do her much good when she is unable to reach it without getting cornered.

It’s not going to end well. And Clover doesn’t want to die. Fear is pumping through her heart and echoing through her bones as she runs away from Thyme. She is getting tired fairly quickly, and she can still hear arrows whizzing past her as she weaves through the trees. She either has to fight or has to continue fleeing.

The choice is made for her when an arrow hits her back and she stumbles, allowing Thyme to catch up on her. Clover takes out her rudimentary wooden shield as she whirls around, terrified when she see Thyme close by, so close that she barely has time to block the sword coming at her before it hits her neck.

Her shield isn’t enough. The first thing she notices when she wakes back up in her bed is how much lighter she feels. She isn’t worried. She isn’t scared, although a distant part of her brain says she should be, says she is so much closer to permanent death like this, red, close to being gone. That part of her brain is drowned out by her glee when she checks her communicator and sees the rows of people she should murder, kill as soon as she gets the chance.

No wonder people had been killing each other left and right. Clover hasn’t done anything yet, but already she can understand Thyme’s gleeful laughter that continues to echo through her ears.

Icee has messaged her, likely having seen the death message. Icee doesn’t know how wonderful it is to be red, to be free of the burdens and worries of yellow. How sad.

“Clover, are you ok? I saw the message in chat… are you like the other people with red names?”

Oh Icee. Clover was doing fine, amazing actually. She would probably be doing even better if she could go out and murder someone, but unfortunately she didn’t have any gear. That was Icee’s job. Hopefully they would come back soon with everything.

“I’m doing great Icee! I’m just making the bread now, we will probably need it later! Never hurts to be prepared.”

Clover sends the message. Maybe when Icee was aware of how it was on this side of things, they could murder everyone else together. That would be so nice. They could have so much fun. Her communicator buzzes when she receives Icee’s reply.

“Alright… if you are sure… I’m coming back up with some materials right now. I was able to find quite a few good stuff. You are sure you are alright? You are acting awfully happy for someone who just died…”

That was true, and rather unfortunate, really. It would be nice if Clover did have a few more lives, a bit more of a buffer towards death, and she feels a flash of jealousy when she sees Icee’s name, still yellow, on her communicator. Although, really, it was just so nice to not have to worry about, well anything really. Still, it would be better, more fair really, if everyone was red, wouldn’t it?

“Doing just fine, Icee! Dying isn’t so bad, really. Do you want me to head over the mine and meet you halfway?”

It’s not like Clover has anything better to do. She makes the bread quickly and gathers the food out of the furnace. She’s so prepared, really. If only she had better gear, she could go and hunt someone right now. It’s almost itchy, the feeling that she should go and murder, but it wouldn’t be smart to do it right now.

Clover hums a light little tune while she goes on her way towards the cave Icee had gone to. Lovely Icee, who would come back with diamonds that could be crafted into swords, and iron that could be used to start fires. She catches a glimpse of someone through the trees, Tea it looks like, and it takes effort to look away, to wait. Patience is key. There will be plenty time later, when Clover is able to confidently go into a fight.

Clover checks her communicator when she reaches the entrance of the dimly lit cave, a little bit surprised when she sees no response from Icee. They likely got lost in the monotony of mining. A good thing, for sure. It means that they will bring back more resources. In the entrance of the cave,, Clover can see a creeper. The sight of it when she was yellow would have sent her running like a coward, but she is cured of that fear now. She carefully sneaks up on it and uses it’s own tactics, and it takes three swings of her iron sword afterwards before she is pocketing the gunpowder.

It’s quite the handy thing. Perhaps Clover can use it for tnt minecarts or firework rockets.

The rest of the cave seems to be lit up a bit more, and it isn’t hard to find the staircase where Icee must have mined down. It passes by a ravine that hasn’t been lit up, and Clover can vaguely see a couple spiders and a skeleton at the bottom. No wonder Icee hadn’t gone in it. Clover is tempted to go down it when she spots a creeper through the darkness, but it isn’t really worth it for the potential of a few gunpowder. She still has some self preservation, after all.

Clover passes through the staircase, going past the deepslate barrier, and she eventually finally finds the end of the staircase. If she squints, she can just barely see Icee in the distance, the gleam of her pickaxe cutting through the dark stone. It takes a couple minutes for Clover to get there, but it’s worth it when she sees the tenseness of Icee’s shoulders when Icee finally hears her footsteps.

They turn around suddenly, and Clover doesn’t know whether she should feel offended or proud at Icee’s glance of fear. It doesn’t matter, though, Clover has no intention of harming Icee at the moment despite the way she analyzes their weak points. It would be difficult to win in a fight against Icee in a small tunnel, especially since Clover can see the gleam of enchantments on their chestplate. Besides, Icee is their teammate. It wouldn’t be beneficial to break that trust.

“Icee! There you are. Did you get lost in the mining grind?” Clover asks happily, looking at Icee’s wary yellow eyes. They would look better red, but oh well. Maybe later.

“Hi Clover, I uh. I guess you could say that, yeah. Why did you come down here? I thought you disliked mining deepslate?” Icee asks, confusion in their gaze.

“I always like spending time with you, Icee! Why wouldn’t I be here? Besides, the food is finished and honestly, I don’t really want to be up there with minimal gear. It would be a bit hard to fight with others if I don’t even have enchanted armour, you know!” Clover says, holding out some of the bread she baked towards Icee. She smiles at the other and watches as Icee starts to slowly untense.

It’s so normal, the dynamic Clover has with Icee, and it feels so much lighter than when she was yellow. So peaceful, despite Clover being close to death. It’s peaceful in the way that Clover wants to take the diamond axe Icee has recently given her and shove it into their ribs, peaceful in the way one is when they want to scream into a pillow for no reason other than they have too many emotions. Peaceful in the way her thoughts are constantly buzzing with an underlying need to kill.

Instead, she just continues smiling at Icee, she helps strip mine, the need for more resources, more power, more of a chance to win. Clover doesn’t know what she wants to win. She hadn’t even realized she was playing a game. It sounds fun though, beating everyone, killing everyone. Exhilarating. She wants to win. She will win.

She finds more diamonds, as well as some lava, which she scoops up into a bucket to be stored for later. She only glances at Icee twice with the bucket in hand as they mine just a few blocks away. Even when they finally turn their back, content in Clover’s passiveness, Clover doesn’t do anything. It would be so easy to sneak up on them like the creeper earlier, but Clover doesn’t.

As the bloodlust itches beneath her skin, Clover finds the rest of the diamonds needed for a full set of armour. She shows them off proudly to Icee, laughing when Icee beams at her. They are ready. It’s enough. Enough diamonds, enough resources to win. If only they had time to go to the nether for netherite. Still, it was unlikely Icee would go with Clover with their yellowness, and besides, Clover didn’t want to be that far away from people anyways.

‘Clover! We did it! That was a lot of mining.” Icee says, bringing out the enchanting table and handing some lapis over to Clover. She takes the items handed to her and works on strengthening her gear, on becoming more powerful. They got lucky, really, finding enough diamonds for both of them.

“You are right Icee! We did it! We can go back up and prepare some more now.” Clover says joyfully. She’s almost ready to satiate the itch. To win. To get more trap material and kill some people and win.

“Are we not prepared? What else do we need Clover?” Icee asks, confused. Right. Icee is not a mind reader. Icee cannot see Clover’s thoughts of elaborate traps, of ideas to ensure the downfall of everyone else.

“Well, we probably need to kill all the creepers we see. Maybe collect some string for some bows, flint for arrows. Things like that! You never know when a bow may be useful.” Clover says.

“Ah! Of course. Mob proofing the area around our house will keep us so safe. And bows would definitely be helpful for killing mobs from a safer distance.” Icee says. Clover laughs at the joke. Of course that isn’t the reason why she needs gunpowder and weapons.

“Are you ready to head up now? I think we have enough things.” Clover asks, giving Icee the enchanting table back. They have wasted enough time back here. She checks her communicator, looking at the time, smiling when she sees a few death messages she had missed. It’s been a few hours since she was at the surface, and it’s closer to nighttime. Perfect timing, really.

“Mhmm!” Icee says, turning back and heading towards the staircase. Clover follows, and it’s a good thing she made a lot of food because the journey is fairly long. The staircase is steep, but it was worth it for the diamonds the two gained. They pass the line where the deepslate turns into stone, and further up is the ravine. Clover watches as Icee cautiously peers into it, down the darkness, in such a perfect position to greet the mobs that await her below. It would be so easy.

The next thing Clover realizes is that her arm is outstretched and her communicator is buzzing, a pile of items on the floor of the ravine and the space where Icee was previously. She smiles at the death message, and cautiously digs down to Icee’s items before the mobs can get to them and destroy them. She collects everything, and manages to get a few pieces of gunpowder from the creeper before she heads up.

She meets Icee at the top of the cave, the dimly lit entrance, their eyes red and wide. Just how they were supposed to be. It looks so much better, and the gleam of bloodlust suits Icee.

“Are you ready for some fun?” Clover asks, and Icee smiles.

#deathduo #deathduo my beloved #rat server <3 #100 days of deathduo #rat server #traffic life au!#my beloved #one of my favorite aus #i have so much planned for this one #im gonna write so much for it when summer break comes around #ahhhhh #also feel free to ask if you have any questions!

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cluelessatthispoint · 1 year

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Secrets Hurt

Engineer x reader

Remember the poll I put up last week? (two weeks ago?) Well, it looks like Engineer won. So here is and Engie x reader for yall. :)

~~~~~~~~

Tinkering all day in his workshop was not the exact way he wanted today to work out. The plans from days before fell apart in front of his eyes when the Administrator found out about you. Sure, the Conagher's have been in the gravel war business for generations, but in order to continue any relationship their partners were supposed to be kept in the dark about it.

Sighing heavily, he remembers how your lively face fell at the news about him leaving for work early. You both planned for days the "perfect date". You both were supposed to go to a drive in, then a dinner that you've always wanted to try. Then, you both would head on back home and see what happened next.

To say that you were crushed was a complete understatement. How you managed to look him in the eyes while he was packing up for the long drive to work made his heart crumble. He wasn't due back at the base for any means, for at least another 2 weeks.

Unfolding the blueprints in his hands he set to work with a newfound determination; to work hard and come back home. No doubt the Administrator pulled this off just so she could get as much information about you as possible. That's why Dell liked spending time with you so much. It's not just that your dating, he also is protecting you. The more time away from you he is the more exposed to the darker side of the world you are.

Putting scrap pieces of sheet metal onto the desk he set to making a prototype of the newest sentry model. How it would still be a tripod and easy to transport was the same as the old one. The newer aspect of it was that it would be able to fire off twice as many bullets and the rockets would be color seeking. No BLU's would be able to even get close to this gun, if it worked.

The more he built the more he thought about you. All the times he lied to you about what his occupation was filled him with shame. He wasn't raised to lie to the people he loved. He was raised with the saying "Honesty is the best Policy". The way that your eyes lit up with wonder and awe whenever he mentioned his job made him smile. He of course told you the bare bones of what he does for a living; all you need to know is that he's an engineer and that he helps to solve all sorts of problems.

Looking back to the mini prototype he can help but shudder. What if one day you get hurt by knowing even that information? What if you get hurt by not knowing enough? Twirling a stray bullet case in his hand he stops. Maybe he should take some time to teach you how to shoot. Mybe he should teach you some basic survival skills. All sorts of maybe's run through his head. His works stalls to a slow, then a full-on stop. The image of you bleeding out somewhere, all alone and calling his name makes a painful weight settle in his stomach.

"Oh darlin, how much I would give to have you by my side right now."

The quietness of the workshop seemed to engulf his words. It made him feel like he hadn't said anything at all. Having you by his side would make things easier for him emotionally. But when it comes to fighting and dealing with eight other men who would be able to kill you in an instant? No. You wouldn't be ready for that. You couldn't possibly know how to deal with that. Knowing how much of the world that you've seen fills him with dread. Even will all the wrong happening right now. He knows, he just knows that if you were to find out that the man that you love is a paid mercenary would crush you.

Blinking rapidly to dispel any tears, he grabbed a hanky from his pocket and set back to work. The prototype on his desk looked almost ready. Turning back to find a few nuts and bolts and some lenses he moved as slowly as he could. All the determination and power from before left him. Only the creaking of his workshop door kept him company. Wait. What?

Turning swiftly to eye the door he spotted...nobody. Quickly grabbing the needed pieces, he walked back to his desk and set the items down. The familiar smell of French cigarettes filled the air. The way it mingles with the smell of oil and gasoline made his eyes water.

"Snake, you know that I don't appreciate you smoking in my workshop, something could happen."

The sound of the invis watch turning off from beside him gave him a start. He should have expected it, but still.

"The more you mope around your little "workshop" the more incentive that the Administrator will take to have you trapped here. "

His heart stopped cold. Feeling his throat tighten up at the mention of you. "You know about (y/n)?"

The spy looked down with shame. "Oui, I know about your little lover, just as much as I know how much it hurts to lie to them."

Without saying a word, the Frenchman recloaked himself and left the workshop. Leaving the Texan all by himself with his destructive thoughts.

"I'm going to kill the Administrator one day".

And with that he set back to work with a renewed vigor. Whistling a melancholy tune, hopefully, if he finishes the prototype quickly, he'll be allowed to go back home early, safe to your loving arms.

~~~~~

wow, this was sad...oops.

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heartsaligned-a · 1 year

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@heavenslapse | akira and akechi on 2/2 ❄️

Gentle snow fluttered softly past frosted glass, peaceful, quiet. The night was mild, dark and cold, but a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature had settled into Akira’s bones, into his heart and soul. For weeks he had forced himself not to think too deeply about Akechi’s reappearance, to take their time together as a blessing and not pull away the curtain, but in one swift movement Maruki had lain everything bare. Akira had been forced to look, forced to see something he couldn’t bear, all in a final, desperate attempt to control him. To control them.

It wasn’t fair.

Akira wasn’t stupid. Far from it, really. Everyone who met him commented on the sharpness of his gaze and his uncanny intuition. Incredibly perceptive, able to see past the mundane into something few others could see. He had seen Akechi when no one else could, witnessed the goodness of his heart despite the weight that clawed through his chest into the very fiber of his being. He had fallen in love with the person who would be his murderer, and yet it was the man who had been sent to help him had escaped detection. Maruki had displayed as unreadable for Akira, working his way into the teen’s head before he could be blocked out. For months Akira had let him use him without understanding why he felt so disgusting, so guilty--as if he owed the man something he wasn’t able to offer. And now, after months of pulling strings, he finally dealt his coup de grâce.

At first, Akira couldn’t explain Akechi’s survival, but he also wasn’t going to deny his presence. It was a miracle. But the sparkling sheen began to chip off as the days passed, as Isshiki Wakaba and Haru’s father mysteriously returned to the world of the living as well. The thought had occurred to Akira then that Akechi might be in the same situation, but before it could even process his mind set up another wall, blocking the truth from sinking in. His mental state was already on the decline, and losing Akechi once had nearly killed him. How was he supposed to go through that again? How could he?

There was no denying it anymore, of course. Maruki had made sure to make his terms clear, dangling Akechi’s life in front of him like a carrot on a string. Taking such a detestable deal sounded suddenly almost palatable, but the thought of accepting quickly turned Akira’s stomach. The Phantom Thieves fought as a unit, a tight-knit team that decided on everything unanimously, but in the end Akira was their leader. They followed him when he made the calls, and Maruki understand the nature of their relationship all too well. In the end, the decision was his and his alone.

Time was running out.

After what seemed like an eternity in silence, Akira rose from his seat at the center booth, moving to stand next to Akechi, the resolve etched into his features already telling him everything he needed to know. There was no way they could accept the deal, they both knew it. Maruki had to be stopped, the world had to return to its true reality. Yet all Akira wanted to do was stay in this moment, to stay with Akechi no matter the cost. It was selfish, he knew that it was, but when did he ever get to be selfish? It was one thing after another with him, a life of selflessness, of struggling to meet other peoples’ standards, of taking their pain, being the responsible leader. Why did things have to turn out like this? Didn’t either one of them deserve one little bit of happiness after all these years?

“Akechi...”

Softer than he intended, more quiet and raw than he would have liked despite the attempt at keeping his approach impersonal. There was still so much left to be said, so much that had become suddenly so impossible to speak aloud. Neither one of them could afford to back down now, and if Akira knew that saying the wrong thing would have devastating consequences. The world could easily fall into the hands of a sociopath with a god complex and they would remain under his influence, puppets forced to smile and dance until they day they finally were allowed to die.

“Do I get any say in this?”

#heavenslapse #wooo 2/2 lets gooo #time for pain everybody cry tonight :D #🌟 —— 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣┊(akira.)#✭❣ —— 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖!┊(ic.)

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avalonandpals · 2 months

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reupload of a fic

hello new people! I have noticed that yall have been liking my Felix x David stuff so while im working on my newest fic I thought to reshare an old one :] the ao3 link will be pasted at the end for those curious, but i will also post the fic here for easier reading!

DISCLAIMER TAGS: Amputation, Blood, Mild Gore mention, Vague “adult soda” mention (could be anything but I intended it to be alcohol), Limb Loss, First Kiss, Confession

David spotted the blaring red lights of the exit gate in the corner of his vision, quickly pivoting past another one of the Huntress’s hatchets before tightening his grip on Felix. The bridal carry might not have been the most stable way to hold the poor man, but David sure as HELL was not just going to dangle this prince off of his shoulder. This only had to work for a few more seconds anyway.

“Yer daft ‘apeth- Felix! Stay with me! C’mon, ‘ve seen you get hit by worse and live!”

King felt his heart flutter like a butterfly as Felix pressed his head against his chest for support, but the groan of pain vaguely shaped like his name that came afterwards was enough to stomp that poor — albeit metaphorical — insect into the dirt. It was quite obvious that Felix was already slipping away from consciousness. He was worse than when David had gone to save him. The poor German had been left for dead on the other side of the realm as the world collapsed around him, forcing him to crawl to safety and huddle in a corner like a stray animal waiting to be slaughtered.

But of course, that didn’t happen. David was too stubborn to leave him behind, so he instead went for a rescue. The other survivors felt too bad to try and convince him to leave one of their own behind, but it’s not like their pleas would have done much to deter him anyway. Felix was one of the few people who David properly respected, which was in no doubt thanks to that one incident from however-long-ago. Yes, that time when Felix took a hit for David in the end game so the latter had a chance of making it out alive. He deserved protection for that at the very least. He bet on King. You’d never lose if you bet on King.

Another hatchet flew by David’s head, narrowly missing his ear by about a centimeter or two as the huntress continued to hum behind them. He leaned over Felix’s withering body in order to protect him from incoming hatchets, so much so that David swore he could feel Felix’s faulty breathing brush against his cheek as they ran.

By this point King was horribly exhausted. His legs felt like they were about to give out, and the untreated gashes on the rest of his body were starting to catch up to him. To be honest; he didn’t know how he was able to run over to Felix, much less pick him up and carry him all the way to the exit gate. He sort of just noticed the blonde man’s absence and took off. He was on death hook. Sure, he might’ve been at the other exit, but it was still worth checking. It was sort of just dumb luck that David was able to find him, especially with his body in such a weak condition. It had carried him this far, so surely it could go a bit further, right?

David had only three steps left to go before the Huntress’s final hatchet sliced just below his left shoulder, rendering that limb completely useless as King howled in pain before collapsing to the ground mere inches over the finish line. They had made it, but only just. The Brit slowly turned to the injury in his shoulder before being struck with an overwhelming sense of nausea as he saw how deep the wound truly was. His eyes widened as he saw how limp his arm had become. It barely looked like it was even attached to his body, with the only tell being that he could see the bone connecting it to the torso. It wasn’t uncommon for David to return to the campfire with injuries, but he’d never been this close to losing limbs with the exception of an occasional finger or two.

Felix — who David had failed to notice he was on top of — was somehow not dead from the impact King had left when he fell. Sure he was bruised and would not be standing straight for a good while, but he was still alive. David had saved his life from the Huntress, who was now screaming at the tendrils that blocked her from her prey. She had been too slow. The survivors had won. Felix hissed through his teeth as blood poured out of his wounds, his half-lidded eyes resting on David before slowly drifting to the shredded flesh barely hanging off of his body.

“Ach du Scheiße…” he muttered, staring at the wound in absolute horror.

“Dunno what that means…” King clenched his teeth in an attempt to brush off the pain. He was lucky to not have died from the shock of the injury, perhaps the street brawls had left more than just cool scars after all. “No mither. Could still probably carry ‘ya with one arm.”

Richter opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. His mouth was left hanging open as he slowly inched towards death, eyelids falling shut once more as if he were slipping into a deep coma. David sighed a bit before moving his working hand up to Felix’s jaw and closing it for him, panting as he lay his head on the German’s chest.

Felix was too handsome to eat flies.

He could feel exhaustion gnawing away at his joints as his breathing began to falter, unable to keep up with the amount of blood he had just lost from that final hatchet. David heard the faintest murmur of thanks rise from Felix’s chest and into his ear as the German rested a bloody hand on top of his savior’s head. He tried to say, “don’t mention it,” but all he could really muster was a brief, “mhh…” before he got lost in the hypnotic rhythm of Felix’s heart, slowly ushering him into a deep sleep as footsteps rapidly approached.

But he was too tired to open his eyes anymore. All he could do was rest.

And so he did.

And so they both did.

——————————————

Felix’s eyes slowly fluttered open as the soothing sound of a crackling fire tickled his ears. He could tell he was in the sad little shack that they called a med-bay by the scent alone; that being of blood and wild herbs. While he couldn’t say that he outright hated them, they were definitely not something he liked waking up to. It always symbolized cumbersome nights of recovery, waiting, and most likely being bed-bound. Sometimes you could get lucky and just have to quarantine until a plague or infection dissipates, but most of the time you were in here for a few ‘days’. It was pretty hard to actually tell how long anything was anymore, most of the time you just had to check a watch that was nailed to the wall or a tree somewhere to tell if a day had already passed by or not. The bunks was one of the only places with a working clock that a survivor had stolen from one of the realms, and it was always behind by ten minutes.

The poor German turned over in his cot to face the fire so he could warm up some more, groaning as his body reminded him of how much damage he had sustained during that last Trial. His limbs were sore like he had just caught a terrible cold, crying for him to stop trying to move so they could at least get a minute of rest despite the fact that Felix had been immobile for the past five hours.

“Scheiße,” he hissed through his teeth, grunting as his body went limp after turning onto its side.

David — who had been sitting shirtless on a nearby cot waiting for him to wake up for a few hours now — cocked his head to the side in an attempt to catch Felix’s gaze. “Easy now, don’t wanna hurt yourself.”

Richter stared at him with wide eyes as all of the memories detailing what he had been doing before ending up here blinked back into his mind. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They got back fine.” King leaned over to a half empty six-pack on the ground before grabbing a can and opening it with one hand, then offering it to Felix as the latter finally managed to sit up.

Richter took the can and swirled it around in his hand for a bit before tilting his head to try and catch a view of David’s left arm; the same one that was brutally shredded by that huntress during the trial which was now completely hidden from view. He felt a pit open in his stomach as he realized why he wasn’t able to see it.

It was because David’s arm was gone. It had been amputated after he had arrived back at the camp. The only thing that seemed to remain was the shoulder blade, and even then it was practically invisible under all of the bandages tightly wound around his bare torso. King would occasionally grit his teeth to try and stomach some phantom limb sensations whenever they would pop up, but the pain was unavoidable. It was weird to see him so calm at something like this, but there wasn’t much else to do. It would go away whenever he died at the next trial. It felt horrible to boil down a usually chronic disability to, “just wait and it will go away”, but both of them were sort of numb to the bizarre rules this realm forced upon them. The guilt still lingered, however. Richter had lost some of his limbs four or five times already and he knew how painful it was to look over at your missing body parts and go, “that’s going to be the death of me next trial”, to know that the system was against you and that you would die because of something you couldn’t avoid. It was agony, and he’d just caused David to feel that for himself, even if it was King’s choice to go back and save him. It just hurt.

Felix’s breathing stopped for a moment as a cold chill ran across his body like a swarm of ants, deepening the pit of guilt in his stomach as David turned his head back towards the fire and grabbed himself another can. Shame lingered in their minds like a foul odor. Both of them were worrying about what the other was thinking so much that they couldn’t even make eye contact. Instead, both of their gazes were focused on the flames.

“Thank you, David,” Felix mumbled, knowing that those three words were beyond an understatement for how much gratitude he truly felt but unable to come up with anything else.

King took a heavy sip of his drink before exhaling and fixating on the fire again. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, I mean really. Thank you.”

They both look up at each other in unison before turning back to the fire, embarrassed. It felt like they’d just been caught staring. Felix sighed and took a sip of his drink before attempting to rephrase, instead of just throwing more of them out and hoping David understood.

“You went back to save me during the collapse, while you were injured, and then you lost your arm for me.” Felix’s words became heavy with emotion as he stressed the severity of David’s actions, so much so that he had to put a hand over his thumping heart to try and calm himself.

David could tell he was about to say something important. Felix didn’t often fumble his extrovert facade this hard unless it was something stupid that involved emotions. He’d only heard him do this a few times before and that's because he just so happened to keep walking in on Felix rambling to trees about how much he missed his life outside of the realms. He looked like he’d gone crazy. King was sympathetic to his plight, and while he wasn’t the best at emotionally consoling people he at least knew when to give them space or to find someone else who’d do the sappy talk for him. Of course it wasn’t like he didn’t want to try doing it for himself. However, he felt much more comfortable knowing that Felix was being comforted by someone who was less likely to fuck up their words as much as he would, so this situation was already making him unusually nervous. He wasn’t even shocked when he first discovered how introverted Felix truly was. Deep down he sort of just knew, most likely because he knew the telltale signs of faking a personality. He knew it all too well. David could sort of tell how fragile Felix’s mind was and therefore did his best to not get emotional around him.

The stray thought of him saying, “no more bullshit,” to someone ever again was too much. The thought of his ex-boyfriend Tristan in any context was just too much.

He hated to admit it, but romance felt terrifying now. What’s worse is that deep down he knew that his heart had it out for Felix. Usually he’d be able to at least get himself to pull off a few flirts or perhaps snag a date if he got lucky, but this time was different. He didn’t want these feelings. Well, he did want them — they were one of the few things that still gave him a good adrenaline rush — but he knew that Felix wouldn’t reciprocate; especially not with his pregnant girlfriend in the picture. Of course David wasn’t angry at him for that or anything, if anything he was mad at himself for being unable to shake these feelings, and the more he thought about it the stronger they got. David had felt a weight lift off of his shoulders when he realized that his thoughts didn’t linger on his fumble with Tristan as much as they used to, but it felt like they’d come back down twice as strong when he’d caught feelings for Felix. He wanted to love him so bad, but he just couldn’t bring himself to that.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. You needed the save ‘n you made it back in one piece so it’s fine.” David took another heavy swig of his drink like it was medicine, attempting to drown the pain he was putting his heart in by trying to push himself away from this situation. “You don’t need to say anythin’ sappy if you don’t feel like it. Don’t owe me anythin’, y’know?”

“But I want to. I want to tell you something.” Felix’s voice shook with urgency as he turned back to David with puffy eyes like he was about to start crying. The sight was so unusual that it forced a response out of King. He just couldn’t stop himself this time. Felix looked too upset for him to just brush off. He could be cold at times, but he wasn’t heartless.

“Well, then I won’t stop ya.” David turned to Felix and tipped his can slightly. “Shoot.”

The other man took a deep breath before attempting to speak. He wasn’t usually this open about anything, but this time he felt like he needed to be. How better to express your gratitude than to open up to someone?

“Do you ever think we’re going to get back home?”

King let out a grim chuckle to mask his sadness. “Don’t know. Nothin’ out there for me anyways. Not anymore.”

Surprisingly, Felix laughed along. Hearing how far this man had fallen since arriving here was haunting in its own way. “I don’t think there’s anything for me either.”

David blinked. “A girlfriend and a baby seem pretty ‘something’ to me.”

“Who’s to say the entity will ever let us out? The mystics, they’re here to figure out how it works, to harness its power… escaping is like an afterthought to them. When you’re in its maw it’s already too late. She’d have to willingly let us out and I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. I studied her after she took my father and while I don’t know everything I can say for certain that she’s never let anyone escape before. Even if that happens, I’m sure that my girlfriend has already moved on, found another person to help her with the baby… I don’t blame her. I left her alone while she was seven months pregnant to go find my father… I could never show my face to her again if I returned.”

“She’s your girlfriend, ‘n you said this happened to your dad already. Who’s to say she wouldn’t believe you if you told her? Maybe she’s still waiting for you.”

Felix swallowed heavily as his knee started to bounce. Anxiety consumed him. “I don’t know if I’m waiting for her anymore, David. I want her back, I want my baby back, I want to see my daughter… my son… whoever they end up being, but thinking about it just… kills me.” Tears began to stream down his face, the mentioning of his unborn baby seemed to be breaking him. “I have done nothing that pushes me closer to escaping. I can’t lose hope but the more I dwell on it, the worse I feel. I have to put my mind through hell to make sure I do not lose hope, but the longer I do the more I wonder if this is the right way to go, and I feel so guilty. I can’t keep torturing myself to stay alive or I’ll give up, but not thinking about them makes me feel like I’m abandoning them… but who’s to say they haven’t moved on from me? The child, who’s to say they haven’t been born by now? She needs someone to help her with the baby. I don’t doubt that she’s found someone else to help her… not because she doesn’t love me, but because she has no other choice. She has to let me go for the baby’s sake, and she’s too good of a person to not know that.”

David looked back to Felix’s chocolate tinted eyes, staring into the soft sapphires with a gaze full of pity. It was a minor change in his expression yet Felix caught it immediately, so he kept going.

“The only thing that makes this world bearable is the people. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be here alone, to be here without someone like you.” He gestured to the large patch of bloody bandages covering a devastating slash across his stomach. “This would have killed me if you didn’t come back. You lost your arm to make sure I made it out alive. Even in other trials, you take hits for me whenever you can to make sure I come back to the campfire.” His tears got worse. He spoke like he was giving a speech at a funeral, suffocating in his own emotions as David scooted closer. “You constantly unhook me even if it gets you sacrificed, you’re always there to help me. You make me feel safe and I-I can’t find words to thank you with…” His words sunk down to a quiet, vulnerable murmur as his confession finally slipped out of his lips. “I love you, David. I owe you so much.”

Felix opened his mouth to continue speaking but was immediately cut off by David impatiently pressing his lips against the Germans. King’s remaining arm went around Felix’s back to pull him closer, holding him in a passionate embrace as the man melted into his soft yet sturdy grasp, unbothered by the stinging pain his wounds were emitting. David briefly moved out of the kiss, his hot breath flowing down Felix’s neck as he moved over to the side of his face, quietly mumbling “You don’t owe me anythin’…” before leaving a soft peck on the German’s ear. “I’ve gotcha, Felix…”

Richter’s eyes fell closed, his tears soaking into the fabric on David’s bandages as he murmured a small “danke,” before cautiously putting his arms around the Brit’s body, wary of any unknown injuries that he might come into contact with while doing so. David moved his thumb up to Felix’s face and began wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks as he too started to cry. He’d wanted this for so long. This was it. Felix loved him, Felix actually loved him. His heart swelled with emotion as he comforted the poor man before being pulled back into another gentle kiss as Richter’s coos softly massaged his ears. His advances were so thoughtful and tender… this was one of the few times he’d truly felt happy down here in the fog. Probably even the only one. He felt so horrible for Felix. David’s hand moved back down to hold the poor man as he recalled the moments in his life where he too had lost it all. At the very least David now had something more to live for than just an adrenaline rush, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let some dumb killer take it from him.

Felix’s hand drifted up to David’s face to brush away tears lingering on his jawline before softly kissing the scar on the bridge of his nose, his warm exhales trailing down King's face to accompany his tears. They were here for each other now. They would work the other things out later, right now they were lovers sharing a tender moment, touching the heart of the other as they recovered from a grizzly attack.

And in that moment, the fog became slightly more bearable.

#Felix Richter #David King #Felix Richter x David King #Dead by Daylight #Hurt Comfort #Amputation #Blood #Confession #First Kiss #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #Felix x David

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