#dweetwrites | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dweetwise · 11 months

Text

[Yoichi x Trickster] VIP Treatment

For @naxamillion who won my @fandomtrumpshate fic auction! They requested something lighthearted & silly with this ship and I hope I delivered! ❤️ Rated T | 7.5k words | ao3 link

Yoichi didn’t exactly mean to befriend the Trickster.

When his paranormal investigation first led him to the strange realm of the Entity, interpersonal relationships weren’t at the top of Yoichi's priority list. He was equally fascinated and terrified by this dimension and its strange inhabitants, and every moment he wasn't running for his life or helping his fellow survivors was spent marveling at the mystery of it all.

Regardless of the raw fear Yoichi felt at the start of every trial, a part of him was excited to see what beings and places the Entity had pulled into its clutches. Experiencing the killers’ powers firsthand was also much more effective than relayed information from the other survivors.

But when one of the killers turned out to simply be “man with a baseball bat,” Yoichi almost wanted to laugh. Compared to the specters and witches and mutated monsters, a skinny twenty-something throwing tiny knives didn’t seem very remarkable.

Boy, was Yoichi wrong about that.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

Yoichi’s very first trial against the Trickster had already stood out—in that the killer refused to leave a chase or the hook ever since he’d first spotted Yoichi. After Yoichi's sacrifice, the others had been sympathetic and claimed that some killers liked to pick on new arrivals because they made easier targets.

The second time Yoichi faced the killer, he already had a good two dozen other trials under his belt. The Trickster had indeed focused his efforts only on killing Yoichi, but this time, Yoichi put up a fight.

He ran around the rickety shack for what had to be minutes, just like Meg had taught him. The killer got visibly agitated and instead of throwing knives, he’d started throwing insults in what Yoichi would later find out were Korean.

When the gates opened, Yoichi died on his second hook while the killer glared at him, a lit totem crackling right beside him. At the campfire, he got a few high-fives from his teammates for his good chase, but most were confused as to why the Trickster had forfeited the entire match just for one kill.

The third time Yoichi heard the familiar humming at the start of a trial, he was tempted to throw himself up on a hook just to save them both the trouble.

As Yoichi was once again hoisted up onto a meat hook after a respectable chase and the killer proceeded to take two steps back and stand there glaring at him, Yoichi finally had enough.

He couldn’t tell what prompted him to strike up conversation. Yoichi had never been particularly sociable, nor was he very confident in his English skills despite regularly using it to communicate with international colleagues. Maybe his time spent in the realm—and being forced to speak the language if he wanted to coordinate with his team in trials and not be an outcast at the campfire—had made it easier.

Still hanging limply from the hook, Yoichi raised his gaze to meet the killer’s.

“What do you have against me?” Yoichi asked.

The Trickster’s scowl faltered as he recoiled in surprise. Were survivors not supposed to talk in trials? Did the killer even understand English? It wasn't as if Yoichi knew Korean.

Then, the Trickster raised his nose in the air and pivoted gracefully on his heel, pointedly turning away from Yoichi’s hook.

“The stupid commoner thinks he's allowed to address a celebrity like me!” the killer loudly stated in perfectly fluent English.

Yoichi tried to mask his surprise; he hadn’t really expected to receive a reply.

“Ah… my mistake,” Yoichi tried.

The Trickster scoffed. “If the idiot insists on talking, maybe he should apologize,” he sneered over his shoulder.

Yoichi frowned, looking down at the numerous lacerations covering his body and the meat hook brutally piercing his shoulder. Objectively, he was not the one who was owed an apology in this situation.

Yet he’d clearly offended the killer somehow, and good manners dictated he should at least express some remorse. Maybe that would stop the killer from targeting him in the future.

“I’m sorry,” Yoichi said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The Trickster still wasn’t looking at him, but at least he wasn’t insulting Yoichi more.

“I’m…not entirely sure what I did wrong,” Yoichi admitted. “But if you tell me, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Isn’t it obvious!?” the Trickster snapped, turning to point his baseball bat accusingly in Yoichi’s direction. “You are copying my style!” the killer yelled, clearly agitated.

Confused, Yoichi looked the killer up and down. The Trickster had pastel pink hair and even pinker striped pants, and his bare chest was framed by the dramatic yellow jacket. His outfit couldn’t be further from Yoichi's modest turtleneck and trousers. The thought that Yoichi had been mimicking the killer’s look was absolutely absurd, as the Trickster’s look was clearly tailored for showmanship while Yoichi’s outfit was meant for sea fare on the stormy coast of Scotland. He was even wearing his raincoat, for crying out loud—

Oh. His bright yellow raincoat.

“I'm really sorry about the jacket,” Yoichi said. “Unfortunately, this is the only outfit the Entity has given me. I didn’t mean to offend, Mister…ahm…”

The killer sniffed. “Hak Ji-Woon. The world's number one idol that only an idiot wouldn’t recognize.”

“Mr. Hak,” Yoichi said, then yelped as the Entity's claws descended on him from the hook. Through the struggle, he managed to grit out, “As you have probably noticed, fashion isn't exactly my strong suit.”

“No shit,” the killer snarked. “Your outfit is hideous and its mere existence is an insult to my brand.” His nose scrunched in disgust. “You look like…like some sort of deformed bumblebee!”

The insult caught Yoichi so off guard that his grip slipped on the Entity's spidery limb and he was subsequently impaled and sent back to the campfire.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

But apparently the Trickster had accepted his apology, because after that trial, he didn’t kill Yoichi again.

Oh, sure, he knifed Yoichi and smacked him around with his baseball bat—occasionally insulting his outfit or mistakes in the chase while he was at it—and most trials where he faced the killer, Yoichi still ended up on a hook.

But he was never hooked more than twice. And even if all of his teammates were killed, the hatch always remained open and waiting for Yoichi: sometimes with the killer standing near it and twirling a knife like he was bored, looking up at Yoichi only to snark, “Took you long enough.”

So when Yoichi some time later received a brand new outfit from the Entity, he immediately changed into it as a token of good faith. Even if Mr. Hak seemed to be making amends for their violent first encounters in his own way, Yoichi was keen to remove the point of contempt from the equation entirely.

Thus, the jacket had to go.

But when Yoichi next faced the Trickster in a trial, the killer took one look at him and then promptly pretended to gag.

“What?” Yoichi asked, looking down to make sure he was still wearing the blue jacket and cargo shorts. “What’s wrong?”

Mr. Hak looked him up and down, his face twisting in disgust. “Switch back to the other outfit. Immediately.”

Yoichi frowned. “But you said you didn't want my jacket to be associated with you—”

“Just put it on!” the killer yelled, his face suddenly reddening.

Yoichi raised his hands in surrender; Mr. Hak had to be really angry to flush like that.

“Okay,” Yoichi said. “I’ll do it right after this trial. I swear.”

The killer huffed and stomped off, and Yoichi didn’t see him for the remainder of the trial or even when he made his way to the hatch.

And at the campfire, switching from the itchy beanie and impractical shorts back to his favorite turtleneck and comfortable woolen trousers, Yoichi smiled to himself as he tugged on the controversial yellow jacket.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

Trials came and went and each time Yoichi faced the Trickster, the killer seemed to tolerate his presence more and more. The insults started sounding more like banter, and sometimes, Yoichi stayed behind at the hatch or in an exit gate to talk to the killer about things that didn’t revolve around Yoichi getting mindgamed at that pallet or Meg getting an “undeserved” flashlight save.

And Yoichi found out that despite all of their differences, Mr. Hak was quite good company.

He was flamboyant and charming, with a sharp wit and even sharper tongue, but when it started being used less for insults and more for humor and random tidbits about himself, Yoichi was intrigued. The killer may not have supernatural powers, but the scenes he painted with his words about flashing lights and music and stadiums full of people were just as captivating.

He also did not appreciate being called Mr. Hak, and since Yoichi felt a little strange calling an acquaintance by their stage name, he’d hesitantly started calling the killer by his first name. Ji-Woon had yet to protest, but he also still addressed Yoichi mostly as “idiot” or “hey, you,” so Yoichi wasn’t entirely sure where they stood.

Until one of their hatch conversations, when Ji-Woon invited him to hang out in Shelter Woods after the trial.

Yoichi wasn't even nervous to accept; he’d seen a group of other survivors frequent Glenvale for poker night with the Deathslinger and some of their younger teammates visit the Legion at the ski lodge—in gatherings that Yoichi was pretty sure involved marijuana, but would never tell the others because that would not fly with Tapp or Jane—and all of them always came back unharmed.

Well. Except that one time Ace apparently cheated in poker and got harpooned for his efforts, but even Felix said he’d deserved it.

Regardless, survivors spending time with killers wasn’t completely unheard of, and since the Trickster hadn’t killed Yoichi in a trial in ages, why would he do so outside of them?

Yoichi was smiling as he walked through the fog to the campfire. He wasn’t entirely sure what his hang-out with the killer would entail, but since Ji-Woon had mentioned something about practicing singing, Yoichi guessed that they were going to be focusing on their own things and merely coexisting in the same space.

All too happy to get away from the endless chatter at the campfire, Yoichi grabbed a book loaned from Adam and strode into the woods in search of his new friend.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

Ji-Woon was a very good singer.

His melodious voice made for a pleasant background noise as Yoichi leaned against the big tree in Shelter Woods and read his book. He’d heard the killer hum in trials, sure, but using his full vocal range and volume to sing entire songs was completely different. Ji-Woon was both talented and clearly devoted to his craft; he probably practiced like this regularly.

Yoichi had lost count of how many songs they’d gone through, but he was making good progress in his book and would soon be able to return it to Adam. He didn’t mind spending the time reading for as long as Ji-Woon wanted to practice; interrupting felt rude, and he enjoyed this casual way of spending time together.

It was a little strange how Ji-Woon’s singing seemed to get progressively louder the longer he kept going. He even started incorporating some dance moves to his routine, once sashaying right past Yoichi, his flowing jacket nearly smacking Yoichi in the face.

Yoichi promptly apologized and moved to the other side of the tree so he wouldn’t get in the way.

But that seemed to be the end of Ji-Woon’s practice, and after ending the chorus on a high note, he circled around to Yoichi’s spot, staring down at him expectantly.

It was the first bit of silence in what had to be hours.

Yoichi smiled up at his friend. “You’re very good at singing.”

Ji-Woon scoffed. “Naturally.” He crossed his arms, not breaking the eye contact.

He was probably expecting a more thorough appraisal than “good.” Sadly, Yoichi was practically tone deaf and his musical knowledge was sorely lacking. He wouldn’t be able to provide that kind of support for his friend.

He did, however, know who could.

"Have you heard Kate sing?" Yoichi asked, already thinking of how the two could bond over their shared hobby; maybe Ji-Woon would want to invite her along next time. "She's really good."

Ji-Woon’s expression suddenly darkened before he huffed and whipped around, nose in the air as he walked away.

Yoichi shrugged; the killer had probably been called into a trial, as they’d been out here for quite some time. Yoichi stayed to read a few more pages before making his way back to the survivor campsite.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

The following trial, Yoichi took the initiative to approach Ji-Woon.

The opportunity presented itself at the beginning of the match, when the killer caught one of his teammates and Kindred told Yoichi that he was standing resolutely in front of the hook smacking said teammate with his bat.

During the last few months Yoichi had learned that—save for those first few trials with the jacket fiasco—Ji-Woon rarely stayed around hooked survivors, especially with five generators still up. But based on the distinctly Ace Visconti -like screams echoing from the direction of the hook, Yoichi could make an educated guess that perhaps this instance of camping was partly self-inflicted.

Figuring Ji-Woon had some time to chat while he watched Ace progress to his death, Yoichi made his way over.

"Ji-Woon," Yoichi spoke up.

The killer’s weapon froze mid-air and he visibly perked up, turning to look at Yoichi.

"Yes?" Ji-Woon asked.

"Ooh, on a first-name basis already?" Ace asked with a grin, showing bloodied teeth.

That earned him another brutal thwack from the Trickster's baseball bat, and the ensuing scream stopped the gambler's remarks at least momentarily. Yoichi winced in sympathy; he’d never understand what some of the more experienced survivors got out of taunting the killers.

“Anyway,” Yoichi said, trying to ignore the grotesque display. “I just wanted to ask you…”

Ji-Woon eagerly turned back to face him, and…was he smiling?

Wow, he must have really enjoyed hitting Ace.

“Do you have any information about the killer that came with me?” Yoichi asked.

Ji-Woon’s smile faltered. “What?”

“I was investigating Sadako's case before I was taken by the Entity,” Yoichi explained. “I don’t know if you’ve met her, but if you’ve seen or heard anything about her, or her powers, I’d greatly appreciate it if you told me.”

Ji-Woon stared at Yoichi with a perplexed expression. Yoichi almost repeated himself, but for whatever reason, Ace chose that moment to start laughing—at least until he screamed again, this time from a hit from the bladed side of the killer’s weapon.

“I don't,” Ji-Woon practically snarled, his teeth clenched.

“Oh,” Yoichi said, deflating a little from disappointment. “That's okay. But if you come across something in the future, feel free to tell me.”

“Mm-hmm,” the killer said.

An awkward silence settled over them.

"Hey kid, you gonna pull me down, or…?" Ace asked, now struggling against the Entity’s claws.

Yoichi looked between Ace and the now clearly agitated Ji-Woon.

"Maybe next time," Yoichi decided.

Ji-Woon smiled, but this time there was nothing friendly about it. “Good choice.”

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

After that incident, the killer seemed angry with Yoichi for the next few trials.

He no longer stayed to chat with Yoichi after the match was done and he barely said anything during their chases. He also kept wearing all sorts of ridiculous outfits—from streetwear to some kind of cupid cosplay—that Yoichi didn’t even know he owned. Why had Ji-Woon worn the yellow coat for so long if he hated how much it resembled Yoichi’s?

Yoichi’s suspicions were confirmed during one particular trial, when his teammates let him progress to his second hook and Ji-Woon pointedly avoided him for the remainder of the match.

After hearing the sound of the hatch opening and thus notifying him that he was the last one alive, Yoichi was a little hesitant to look for his once-guaranteed escape, not knowing how the killer’s foul mood would reflect on the mercy Yoichi had started taking for granted.

Yoichi saw no sign of Ji-Woon as he made his way through the trial grounds, but eventually, he did find the hatch.

And promptly froze in pure terror.

Laying in a neat triangle around the open hatch were the corpses of his three teammates. All of their bodies were full of countless lacerations and had the Trickster’s autographed photo pinned to their lifeless chests with a throwing knife.

Yoichi could count on one hand the times he’d seen Ji-Woon use his mori. He didn’t know exactly what had prompted this, but the message was clear: Yoichi had wronged him, and now the other survivors would pay.

Yoichi carefully stepped over Kate’s corpse, but then paused once he got a closer look at the photograph stuck to her body.

That wasn’t Ji-Woon’s autograph.

Confused, Yoichi crouched to look closer at the other photos. All of them were written in Hangul, yet every message was different and noticeably longer than the three characters of Hak Ji-Woon.

Yoichi whispered gentle apologies to his dead friends as he pried the blood-stained photos from their remains for further investigation. He still wasn’t sure what he had done to upset the killer, but he knew he needed to apologize.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

After racking his brain for a suitable apology, Yoichi decided to push his luck and invite Ji-Woon to the carnival in Father Campbell’s Chapel. He had fond memories of their previous hangout and hoped that Ji-Woon could be enticed to come along with the promise of stale popcorn, a target practice board for his throwing knives, and the lack of smelling clowns (Yoichi definitely owed the Deathslinger a favor for agreeing to invite the killer to that week’s poker night).

Yoichi practically had a whole apology speech ready for Ji-Woon, but in the end, he only got out the words, “Would you like to go to the carnival in the chapel with me after this tr—”, before the killer butted in with a surprisingly enthusiastic yet exasperated, “God, yes, finally!”

This time, it was Yoichi who got to the location first. He hadn’t brought a book or anything, since there were plenty of games and activities for them to try together.

He ended up waiting for quite some time, and just as he was starting to think that maybe the killer had only been messing with him and wasn’t about to show up, a knife whizzed by his ear and hit the target practice board several meters behind him.

Smiling, Yoichi turned in the direction that the knife had come from. Ji-Woon was strolling up to him with a cocky swagger, twirling another knife around his finger.

Strangely enough, the killer had chosen to dress in his regular outfit again. He’d probably gotten tired of the feathery abominations he’d worn for the last couple of trials.

“Nice throw,” Yoichi said in lieu of a greeting.

Ji-Woon smirked. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

And that was how Yoichi found himself spectating as the killer threw dagger after dagger at the target board, nailing the bullseye nearly every time. Yoichi was both surprised and impressed: Ji-Woon’s accuracy in an actual trial was far from this good. Hitting moving targets was obviously much more difficult.

Hopefully he wouldn’t want to practice on Yoichi.

Yoichi waited patiently for Ji-Woon to finish his practice so they could move on to the other carnival activities, or if he'd at least ask if Yoichi wanted a turn with the knives. But after what had to be nearly an hour passed and the killer showed no signs of stopping, Yoichi realized that Ji-Woon probably came along just to actually practice instead of spending time with him.

Swallowing his disappointment, Yoichi quietly backed away and tried to find something else to do. He should have brought another book.

Yoichi traversed the small carnival and curiously observed his surroundings. Since this wasn’t a trial, there were no generators or hooks in sight and the area was probably some of the most welcoming looking realms Yoichi had visited. If it wasn’t inhabited by one of the most sadistic killers in the Entity’s roster, Yoichi imagined it would be one of the go-to hangout spots for survivors.

After failing to get the popcorn cart working and getting a strange reading from the fortune telling machine—“Love is right around the corner,” what a nonsensical thing to even consider in this realm of violence and death—Yoichi stumbled across the three-eyed horse the other survivors sometimes talked about.

“Oh!” Yoichi exclaimed, caught off guard by the animal that he’d started to assume was just a campfire story. “You must be Maurice.”

Maurice’s third eye blinked and it tilted its head curiously. The horse looked injured as it laid in the grass next to the Clown’s wagon and seemed to be partially blind in its other two eyes.

His biologist’s heart not able to resist researching such an interesting specimen, Yoichi pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and sat down next to the horse to study it.

He lost track of time as he observed and jotted down things about the horse’s docile behavior and physical differences to its counterparts outside of the Entity’s realm. When Yoichi heard a loud clearing of a throat from behind him, he was in the middle of petting the horse’s coarse mane.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ji-Woon’s voice demanded.

Yoichi slowly turned around so as not to spook the animal. “Oh, Ji-Woon! I kind of lost track of time. Did you finish your target practice?”

“Prac—!? I don’t need practice!” Ji-Woon raised his voice, his face twisting in anger.

Maurice neighed unhappily and Yoichi hurried to soothe the animal. “Shhh. Everything’s alright.”

“Why are you touching it?” Ji-Woon said.

“Because Maurice is very friendly,” Yoichi said. “Do you want to pet him?”

“Ugh, no!” Ji-Woon shouted, physically recoiling. “It’s rotten and disgusting!”

Yoichi frowned. “No, he’s not.”

It was obvious Ji-Woon didn’t like animals—Yoichi had come across the sentiment many times, especially when it came to marine fauna that was deemed ugly by the general population.

“You don’t have to be near him,” Yoichi said. “I’ll just finish my notes and find you later.”

Ji-Woon didn’t reply, and when Yoichi turned back to look at him, he was already gone.

Something in Yoichi’s stomach twisted unpleasantly. Ji-Woon had probably been called to a trial again, but he could have at least said goodbye.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

When they met the following day in a trial, Ji-Woon still seemed a little…off.

He was missing his knives and seemed to tank every pallet stun with his face, all the while Nea and Steve easily got off blinds on him with their flashlights.

After the generators were done in record time and all of his teammates escaped without having given a single hook, Yoichi approached his friend.

“Are you feeling alright?” Yoichi asked. “You must be tired from all that target practice yesterday.”

“It's not that!” the killer snapped, then paused and visibly cringed.

“Is it the reason why you left so suddenly last night?” Yoichi prodded.

Ji-Woon huffed a small laugh. “Probably. Say, would you meet me after the trial in Haddonfield?"

“Oh! Sure,” Yoichi agreed easily.

It seemed like Ji-Woon wasn’t upset with him after all. Yoichi’s chest felt warm with newfound hope as he jogged into the open exit gate and set to navigate the fog to Lampkin Lane.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

“Watch your step,” Ji-Woon said, his hands on Yoichi’s shoulders pulling lightly.

“Is this really necessary?” Yoichi asked as he hesitantly stepped up on the small ledge. He’d been blindfolded with a feather boa as soon as he arrived in Haddonfield—Ji-Woon claiming it would ruin the surprise otherwise—and had to resort to the killer leading him by his shoulders.

“Well, I could not warn you about the stairs and watch you faceplant like that time in Ormond…” Ji-Woon said.

“I've never heard you laugh as much as then.”

“I've never seen anyone trip over their own feet like that.”

“There was ice,” Yoichi mumbled, spitting some feathers from his mouth.

Ji-Woon chuckled, before squeezing Yoichi’s shoulder. “Door,” he warned.

Yoichi reached out in front of himself to feel for the doorframe and walk through without bumping into the wall.

And that was when Ji-Woon pulled them to a stop.

“We're here!” Ji-Woon declared. “You can look now.”

Yoichi pushed up his makeshift blindfold and looked around. They were on the bottom floor of one of the residential houses lining Lampkin Lane in what must have once been a living room.

The usual, annoyingly flickering light was gone, and when Yoichi looked up he could see a small kitchen knife embedded into the ceiling where the faulty light bulb should be. To avoid the room being pitch black, a fire barrel had been placed in one of the corners—a terrible fire hazard, really, as the wallpaper could easily ignite. Still, the fire crackled pleasantly and cast a warm orange glow over the room.

The worn loveseat in the middle of the room Yoichi could vaguely recognize from trials. But rather than simply make an obstacle in front of one of the window vaults, it had been turned and was now facing…

“Sadako's TV!” Yoichi exclaimed, hurrying closer to inspect the item.

This was the first time he’d been able to look at one of these things outside of a trial, as they seemed impossible to find no matter how many realms Yoichi looked in. Now he could finally learn more about the onryō who killed his parents!

“I can't believe you remembered!” Yoichi looked over his shoulder to smile at Ji-Woon. “This is great!”

Ji-Woon was standing perfectly still, watching Yoichi with one hand frozen mid-air.

“You…like it?” Ji-Woon asked.

“Yes!” Yoichi said, turning back to the TV. “I can't wait to show this to Haddie and Élodie! They know so much about the occult, and if we combine our knowledge…I should go get them right now!”

As Yoichi got to his feet, he heard a loud crunching sound from behind him. Confused, he glanced at Ji-Woon, only to find him still standing rigid in the doorway. The killer was clenching his jaw and his hand trembled where it had been shoved into his jacket pocket. Tension radiated from him even across the room, and Yoichi couldn’t understand why—oh.

Ji-Woon was obviously scared of ghosts.

That was why he’d been so reluctant to talk about Sadako and acted secretive about finding this TV. Yoichi didn’t blame him in the slightest; an onryō could make even the most hardened skeptics terrified beyond belief.

Yoichi felt awful. Ji-Woon had been so brave for him, yet Yoichi had ignored his friend’s discomfort and immediately poked the hornet’s nest, risking an angry Sadako showing up.

“It's okay,” Yoichi said gently. “You don't have to stay.”

“Yes, you've made that extremely clear,” Ji-Woon grit out between clenched teeth.

With that, the killer turned on his heel and hurried away, ignoring Yoichi's hasty, "Thank you, again!"

With Ji-Woon now out of harm’s way, Yoichi returned to inspect the TV set some more. It was identical to those found in trials, a CRT tube on a small stand and a VCR player on top, though it looked a little bulkier than usual...hold on.

Yoichi frowned and leaned closer to the VCR player, noticing that there were two of them stacked on top of each other. The bottom one was smaller, however, and only had a thin slot in the middle, along with a power and eject button.

"A DVD player?" Yoichi wondered out loud.

This was strange. Sadako was known for her VHS tapes, and if she was starting to upgrade to more modern technology…Who knew how long before the curse was spread virally on the internet, endangering millions?

Yoichi hurried to his feet and set off to retrieve Haddie and Élodie so they could get to the bottom of this. He walked out of the house and into the driveway, stepping around a parked car—

And heard that same crunch from before coming from underneath his shoe.

Lifting his foot revealed a DVD disk shattered into pieces on the ground. Beside it layed a single red rose, trampled and half-dead.

Yoichi mentally shook himself and kept walking. He could ponder the items later—now, he was on a mission.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

After Haddonfield, Ji-Woon avoided him like the plague.

It took Yoichi a few trials to catch onto that fact, but when the killer didn’t show up for their usual hatch bantering for the tenth time in a row, Yoichi knew something was wrong.

But this time, Ji-Woon didn’t even want to hear his apologies. Yoichi’s questions fell on deaf ears, and that was if he even saw the killer in the first place. Some of the other survivors claimed he’d started using a perk that got rid of the usual pounding heartbeats whenever a killer approached a survivor.

It was obvious that Ji-Woon went to great lengths to avoid Yoichi. And maybe if things were different, Yoichi would have given him the space he so desperately craved.

But somewhere along the line Ji-Woon had become Yoichi’s closest friend. And despite the cold shoulder, he was still letting Yoichi escape through the hatch every time, proving that on some level, he still cared. Yoichi just didn’t know how to get through to him.

Maybe it was time to ask for outside help.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

At the campfire, Yoichi made a beeline to his target.

The so-called Old Man Group—which Yoichi always found an unfitting name, since Felix wasn't that old and the group also consisted of Jane and Yun-Jin—were gathered in their usual spot playing cards. Jane was talking to the group and making Ash howl with laughter, but Yoichi forced himself to interrupt the conversation.

“Ace,” Yoichi said, causing the gambler to perk up and several skeptical glances to be shot Yoichi's way. “Do you know why Mr. Hak is avoiding me?”

“Oh, it's back to Mr. Hak, huh?” Ace raised an eyebrow. “I didn't know you guys were having a lovers'—ow!"

Ace frowned at Felix sitting beside him and rubbed at his arm where he’d apparently been pinched by the architect. Felix simply stared at Ace with his mouth pressed into a thin line, obviously not pleased with what his partner had been about to say.

“Are you talking about the Trickster?” Yun-Jin butted in from the other side of the group.

“Ah…yes,” Yoichi said, turning to face her. He cleared his throat; he knew the two had an unpleasant history and wasn’t quite sure what the woman thought about his friendship with the man who ruined her life. “We…usually spend time together at the end of a trial or meet up after one, but he hasn't showed up in a long time,” Yoichi explained. “I was wondering if someone knew why he might be upset with me.”

Yun-Jin's collected expression of cutthroat producer didn’t falter even as she stared at Yoichi long enough to make him fidget nervously.

Then, she looked around the group, and several small things happened in quick succession.

Ace grinned and winked at Yin-Jin before Felix sighed and nodded. Bill lit a cigarette, grumbling that he "needs a fucking smoke" while Ash merely looked around in confusion.

And finally, Jane placed a hand on Yin-Jin's shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Yun-Jin’s eyes widened and she proceeded to look Yoichi up and down, as if only now seeing him for the first time.

“Really?” Yun-Jin said. ”Him?”

Yoichi should probably have been offended, but her comment didn’t sound mean-spirited—just genuinely surprised.

“Ahm…” Yoichi faltered. “Can someone tell me what is going on?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bill muttered somewhere behind him, not helping in the slightest.

Jane looked at Yun-Jin. “Did you want me to…?”

"No, this should come from me," Yun-Jin said.

"Ms. Lee?" Yoichi asked. “Is something wrong?”

Yun-Jin took a pointed breath. "Hak Ji-Woon is a narcissistic psychopath who lacks any empathy whatsoever," she stated matter-of-factly. "If he voluntarily spends time with you without trying to murder you, it means he's practically in love with you."

Yoichi blinked. "What?"

Her gaze sharpened. "He's been peacocking for you, hasn't he?"

"Peacocking?" Yoichi repeated with a frown. "I wouldn't say that."

"Really?" Yun-Jin prodded. "No singing until your ears bleed? Prettying himself up? Bragging about his fame and showing off twenty different knife tricks?"

Sure, there had been the singing and target practice, and Ji-Woon did go through that strange phase where he wore all sorts of ridiculous outfits. He also regularly talked about his success, but it wasn’t like he was doing any of it to impress Yoichi.

"Sometimes he wanted to practice his skills and invited me along for company,” Yoichi explained.

“Mierda, you're so oblivious you'd think he used Hex: Plaything,” Ace commented.

“No, I just think you've got it all wrong,” Yoichi said. “We are just friends—if even that anymore.” Suddenly, he remembered he actually had tangible evidence of the killer’s anger. “He even left me these to threaten me after an argument!”

Yoichi fished out the three worn photographs from his back pocket and handed them to Yun-Jin. He’d completely forgotten about them until now, as he'd very quickly made up with Ji-Woon after finding them.

Yun-Jin’s eyes flitted over the writing on the photos, before she looked up at Yoichi with an unimpressed stare.

“And this was when he was angry at you?” she asked.

“Yes!” Yoichi nodded. “What, ah…What do they say?”

Yun-Jin held up the first picture. "For my bumblebee," she read completely deadpan before picking up the next one. "They wronged you, so I killed them." Then, "With love, Hak Ji-Woon."

The rest of the group had gone deadly silent and Yoichi felt their stares boring into his back.

“…Oh,” he simply said, finally understanding what had happened.

Ji-Woon had moried Yoichi’s three teammates because they didn't rescue him from the hook on time. What Yoichi had assumed to be a threat was simply the killer looking out for Yoichi in his own, strange way.

But why leave the photos and not just talk to him? It was as confusing as their last get-together in Haddonfield, when Ji-Woon had left behind a broken DVD after leading Yoichi to the house with the TV and cozy fire like it was…

Like it was a date.

Realization washed over Yoichi like a cold wave: their meeting in Haddonfield was supposed to be a movie date. Ji-Woon was the one who had set up the TV and mood lighting and brought a movie, and Yoichi had completely ruined the evening with his paranormal obsession.

Just like he had at the carnival by abandoning Ji-Woon to pet the horse. And in the woods where Ji-Woon practically serenaded him and Yoichi just buried his nose in a book. Crap, how many signals had Yoichi missed in the last few months?

“Oh,” Yoichi said, feeling a flush creep up his neck.

"Sheesh, no wonder he's been avoiding you," Ash said, apparently having reached the same conclusion. "Dude probably thinks he got hyper-friendzoned."

"I didn't know," Yoichi half-heartedly protested.

“Then it seems you have an angry idol to appease," Yun-Jin said. She was smiling, a tiny quirk of her lips that was barely noticeable.

“You, ah…You don't mind?” Yoichi asked.

Yun-Jin shrugged. “You're the only one he's ever let this close. Who knows, maybe you'll be a good influence on him."

“I'll try my best,” Yoichi promised, carefully folding the pictures back into his pocket. “Thank you.”

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

The next time he met Ji-Woon, the killer was unsurprisingly still avoiding him, even at the cost of his own success in the trial. He practically ran away every time he spotted Yoichi, instead searching for his teammates on the other side of the map. Yoichi almost missed those very first trials when he had the killer’s undivided attention—even if said attention had been nothing but negative.

Ji-Woon was being very stubborn about ignoring him. Fortunately, Yoichi could be just as bull-headed when he set his mind on something.

He eventually managed to corner Ji-Woon in the shack. While the killer was grabbing more daggers from a locker, Yoichi sneaked closer. And when Ji-Woon turned around and Yoichi stood right in front of him, he actually jumped a little and hissed a surprised curse in his native tongue.

“Ji-Woon…” Yoichi started.

“What the fuck!?” Ji-Woon snarled. “Move!”

The killer tried to sidestep, but Yoichi followed the movement, effectively blocking him.

“Ji-Woon, listen—”

“What the hell are you even doing here!?” Ji-Woon demanded, but he still wasn’t raising his weapon. “Take a fucking hint and go play with your little friends!”

“Please, just listen to me,” Yoichi tried.

“Oh that’s rich, coming from you!” Ji-Woon yelled. “You made it really fucking clear that you don’t give a single shit—”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get a word in anytime soon, Yoichi did something that was either a stroke of genius or colossally stupid depending on the outcome:

He shoved Ji-Woon back against the locker and kissed him.

Ji-Woon froze completely. His mouth was still half-open from whatever insult he’d been in the middle of spewing and Yoichi took full advantage of his surprise, gently kissing him to convey all the words he didn’t get a chance to say.

Then, for a moment, Ji-Woon started kissing back, and Yoichi felt so happy—

Until Ji-Woon seemed to remember himself and pushed Yoichi away with his Entity-granted strength, sending Yoichi tumbling gracelessly onto the shack’s floor.

“You dare to touch me!?” Ji-Woon bristled, glaring down at him.

“I’m sorry—” Yoichi started.

Ji-Woon didn’t even seem to be listening. “I'll have you know my fans would have paid thousands just for a handshake—”

“I'm sorry I ignored you on our dates!” Yoichi interrupted, loud enough to echo in the small space.

Ji-Woon instantly went quiet: either at the apology or just the fact that Yoichi had actually raised his voice.

Yoichi scrambled to push himself up on his elbows. “I didn't realize you were…that you wanted…” he fumbled through the words while he still had the opportunity to speak. “In my defense, I didn’t realize that they were dates. I never thought you'd go for a commoner like me.”

“Not in a million years,” Ji-Woon huffed. “But…there's nothing common about you, so…”

Ji-Woon turned his head to stare firmly into a wall and, wow, that was definitely a blush on his cheeks. Had he been this flustered every time he looked away from Yoichi?

The thought made Yoichi smile and his heart beat faster in his chest.

"I feel the same way about you," Yoichi said. "I know I can be a little…dense—"

"A little!?" Ji-Woon exclaimed, head whipping back to half-glare down at him. "Even the stupid gambler knew for months!"

Yoichi cleared his throat. "Yes, well, they don't exactly teach you flirting in the biology curriculum," he said.

"No shit,'' Ji woon said, rolling his eyes. "But…they also don't teach it in the idol programs."

Yoichi guessed that was the closest they would get to admitting they both kind of sucked at this.

"I think it would be easiest if you just say what you want in the future," Yoichi said. “Since I think we’ve established that I suck at reading hints.”

"Fine," Ji-Woon said, then shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with voicing whatever was on his mind. "...You may kiss me more."

Yoichi chuckled and finally got back up on his feet, eagerly leaning into Ji-Woon’s space for another kiss.

This time, Ji-Woon reciprocated readily, and Yoichi’s knees felt a little weak again when the killer cupped his cheek. Ji-Woon’s lips were unbelievably soft as they moved languidly against Yoichi’s own, and when a teasing tongue flicked over his top lip, Yoichi felt goosebumps rising on his skin.

Yoichi wanted to get closer, to hold him and kiss him for as long as he could, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to.

He pulled away just enough to murmur, "Can I touch you?" against Ji-Woon's lips, hands hovering awkwardly over his hips.

Ji-Woon huffed something that sounded suspiciously like "idiot" before the strong arms that just pushed Yoichi away now pulled him closer, making him nearly trip over his feet.

Yoichi grabbed fistfuls of Ji-Woon’s yellow jacket to steady himself, accidentally deepening the kiss and earning a soft moan from his friend.

Well. Probably more than just a friend, at this point.

They didn’t separate until the exit gates screeched open and the gong signaling the end game collapse rang out over the trial grounds.

When Yoichi pulled away, Ji-Woon was beautifully flushed and panting softly, still leaning against the locker for support. Yoichi imagined he looked much the same.

Yoichi bit his lip, already missing the warmth of Ji-Woon’s kisses. “So…where do you want to go from here?” he managed to ask.

Ji-Woon rolled his eyes. “Well first, we need to find you some chapstick. Do you know how dry your lips are?”

Yoichi huffed a surprised laugh and Ji-Woon smiled too.

Ji-Woon led Yoichi to an exit gate and complained about improper skin care the entire time there. But he kept smiling and his hand rubbed soothing patterns over Yoichi’s back while they walked, and in the exit gate he still leaned in for one last kiss despite Yoichi’s tragically chapped lips.

═════════════ ☆ ═════════════

“Oh, Yoichi! Hello!” Claudette greeted him when he got back to the campfire. She was sitting on a log at the edge of the camp huddled with Jake, a half-stocked toolbox open between them. “Did you have a good trial?” she asked.

Yoichi only then realized that he was still smiling.

“Yes!” Yoichi said, surprising even himself with how happy he sounded. “I…really did.”

Claudette smiled warmly and even Jake's perpetual scowl seemed to soften for a moment.

“I'm so glad to hear that,” Claudette said.

It was no secret that some of the veteran survivors often worried about the new arrivals. Most of them had since moved on to Haddie—since she was their newest addition after Yoichi—but people like Claudette often still check in on him, and he truly appreciated their concern.

Yoichi’s smile softened and he nodded politely. “Thank you.”

He turned back in the direction of the fire, aiming to leave the two to their task and join the larger group. But as he did so, Yoichi heard a loud snort followed by Claudette's gasp.

Yoichi quickly pivoted back around. “What happened?”

Gone was Claudette’s friendly smile as she stared at Yoichi’s chest in horror. Meanwhile, Jake was…smirking?

"Nea!" Claudette suddenly got up on her feet with a shout, stomping off toward the campfire. "Did you tag Yoichi's jacket!?"

"What!? No way!" Nea's voice could be heard from further away. "Just Feng's a few days ago!"

"You bitch, I knew that was you!" Feng Min's high-pitched squeal answered.

As a small commotion broke out among the three women, Yoichi slowly removed his raincoat to check for signs of vandalism. Looking over the garment did, indeed, reveal large writing done on the back of the jacket with a thick black marker.

In Hangul.

Jake snorted again, then pretended to cough into his hand.

“Do you know what it says?” Yoichi asked.

Jake seemed to be trying very hard to keep his face neutral as he said, “Property of Hak Ji-Woon.”

Yoichi's face flamed hot as he stared at the jacket. Now that Jake had said it, he could vaguely recognize the sloppily written symbols of Ji-Woon’s name. But this hadn’t been there before the trial, and who would even have put it there? Nea and the others didn't know Korean, and Ji-Woon definitely didn't ask Yoichi to turn around to sign his jacket. He wouldn't even have had the chance to, with the way they were busy kissing like teenagers for the entire trial.

…Except when they walked to the exit and Yoichi could feel Ji-Woon’s dexterous hand running in nonsensical patterns over his back. Apparently with the marker he always kept on him for autographs.

“Yoichi, I am so sorry,” Claudette said, coming up beside him. “I'll help you wash it off. And if it's permanent marker, I have some solvent—”

“No,” Yoichi found himself saying. He pulled the jacket tighter to himself and smiled. “I like it.”

Claudette looked confused as Yoichi put the jacket back on and walked away to join the group. He gathered a few curious glances, but everyone was mostly still preoccupied with Nea and Feng Min's argument to pay him much mind.

Yun-Jin later joined the group and only reacted with a small huff and an eye roll after getting a look at the writing. But since neither her nor Jake made any further comments, the incident was quickly forgotten.

…Well, until a few days later when Yui stomped into camp and started demanding why the hell the back of the Trickster's jacket said “Boyfriend of Asakawa Yoichi“ in Japanese, and Yoichi still couldn't stop smiling.

#yoichi asakawa #ji-woon hak #dbd trickster #ji-chi #yoijiun #dweetwrites #dbd fanfic #fth 2023 #dbd #dead by daylight #request

62 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 3 months

Text

[Riconti] Ashes to Ashes

Once in a blue moon, I apparently have to write pure angst. For those not familiar with archives lore, Wallace is from Ace's tome "Go for Broke". Rated T | ❗ Major character death ❗ | 3.7k words | ao3 link

It’s a cold spring day.

The sky is gray and the ground is damp, covered in leaves that have rotted from orange to brown over the winter. A few ravens perched in a nearby tree and a car horn sounding somewhere far away are the only signs of life.

The casket next to the empty grave only radiates death.

Wallace swallows thickly and straightens the shirt he didn’t have time to iron this morning. The graveyard is windy and he’s already freezing, but if there’s anything he owes the bastard it’s to be there for him this one last time.

Like he wasn’t on the night he died.

Cold stings in Wallace’s suddenly wet eyes and he blinks the feeling away. He looks at the priest to try to figure out what they’re waiting for, but she just stands there and silently watches the only guest apart from Wallace who bothered to show up.

Wallace has never seen him before today. He’s tall and blond and dressed in a full black tux, the color so dark it makes his already pale skin appear a sickly white. A black dress shirt with a black tux is probably against some kind of dress code but apparently this guy really wants to pretend to be mourning.

Wallace doesn’t even own a tux. He’s wearing a simple green jacket and patterned yellow shirt with denim blue jeans.

Because Ace loved color. Red was his favorite color but Wallace couldn’t do red, not after the gunshots and sirens and running up to the motel room only to see the slumped body and splatters along the wall and red, red, red—

Wallace clenches his trembling fists until his nails dig into his palms. He fucking told Ace that those people were bad business but Ace didn’t care, laughing it off with a flippant, “I’ve cheated death more times than you can count, buddy. Have you forgotten how lucky I am?”

Now Wallace won’t even get the chance to say, “I told you so”. He doesn’t understand why Ace was so reckless, how he’d somehow gotten the idea that he was immortal.

Wallace relaxes his fists and looks back at the other man. It’s just the two of them: Wallace tried to get a hold of Ace’s remaining relatives in Argentina but couldn't find any. He always suspected that neither Ace nor Visconti were his real names, but that’s what Wallace knew him as and he refused to dig further. Ace would have told him if he wanted him to know.

But fake names or not, their friendship was real. Wallace didn’t always think so, but then Ace showed up one day from god-knows-where, after seven years of complete radio silence, laughing and slapping Wallace’s back and asking, “Miss me?” with that stupid, cocky smirk of his.

Wallace’s chest felt full then, like something he didn’t even know was missing was slotting back into place. He didn’t care that the bastard disappeared without a word or that he took even dumber and more careless risks than before. He was just glad to have him back.

Ace claimed he’d been in Europe working a con all those years. He was just as shady as usual, not saying much because Wallace didn’t ask. But based on the spring in his step and the grin he got whenever his phone buzzed, Wallace knew he’d found something more than just a quick buck in Europe. That chick had to be real special for Ace to stick around that long and even attempt long-distance after he returned to the States.

Or that’s what Wallace thought, but there's no mystery lady standing by his grave now. She clearly didn’t give a shit about Ace: she was probably the one who put those reckless thoughts in his head in the first place, demanding he earn more money to fund a life of luxury for her. Wallace doesn't know anything about her but he still hates her.

He looks at the blond again. He’s standing ramrod straight with his chin up like rich folks so often do. He has to be a lawyer or something, because Wallace was told there was someone to arrange the funeral and take care of Ace’s assets. Or the lack thereof.

The lawyer’s face is stone cold and without any emotion. Another asshole who’s probably happy Ace died just so he could get money out of it; Wallace knows the sort. At least this one had the decency to show up to the funeral.

“What’re we waitin’ for?” Wallace asks.

“The others,” the man says in an accent Wallace can’t place. It catches him off guard: not your typical west coast lawyer, then.

“There’s no one else comin’,” Wallace says through gritted teeth, because he doesn’t want to spell out that Ace didn’t have friends.

The man finally turns to face him for the first time since they got here. His expression is just as neutral as before, but his eyes are…wrong, somehow. His gaze flirts all over the place and he almost looks lost, completely at odds with the rest of his carefully presented persona. Like a crack in the facade.

“Just a few more minutes,” the man says.

“Alright,” Wallace agrees.

The stranger turns back to stare unblinking at the casket and, not having anything else to do, Wallace keeps looking at him to try to figure him out. The tux is tailored to a T and his watch looks expensive, making Wallace’s mind immediately jump to how much he could pawn it for. Bad habit.

Wallace frowns as he notices the man’s hands are scarred and blemished. He looks so perfectly put-together otherwise but his hands are in piss-poor shape, with bitten nails and picked cuticles and scabs that have barely healed. Wallace spots gloves peeking out from his pocket and realizes he probably usually covers them. But not for this, for some reason.

The guy must be cold in nothing but the tux, but he still insists on waiting. For what?

Wallace opens his mouth to ask again, when he hears it.

Car doors slamming and the gradually growing sound of voices and footsteps on gravel. And not just those of one or two people.

Wallace turns to look. Through the nearest cemetery gates, what has to be a group of nearly thirty people are making their way over. Young and old, men and women and boys and girls, chatting, laughing and some already wiping away tears. They’re dressed in both formal and casual clothes mostly in black, but also in earth tones and pastels and neons. Most of them are carrying flowers—more flowers than Wallace has ever seen at once.

Wallace blinks. Are they here for Ace? All of them?

A few of them push their way to the front of the group. A black woman in an evening gown and a blond girl in jeans and a sweater hurry past Wallace and to the other man.

The woman puts her hand on his shoulder. “Felix,” she says, voice gentler than her fancy exterior would suggest.

The girl comes to stand in front of the man—Felix—and looks up at him. “Are you okay?”

Wallace expects him to nod or at most mumble an unenthusiastic, “I’m fine.” Instead, the rich, obnoxious dick who Wallace hated nearly on sight simply…breaks.

Wallace watches as his face twists in agony and he hunches in on himself, his body wracked with ugly sobs that sound so unfitting for a man of his caliber. The women pull him tight and he clings to them desperately. It doesn’t even seem like he’s faking the tears. Maybe his arrogance was just an act.

The girl is crying now too, her hands trembling where she’s holding onto him. Her eyeliner is already running down her cheeks and ruining her makeup. The other woman doesn’t cry, but she squeezes the man’s shoulder and murmurs quiet reassurance.

More of the group hurry over to flock around the grieving trio, all worried faces and silent tears and, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” while the blond guy just keeps crying. Wallace can barely see him through the crowd; it’s like they’re shielding him from the world and Wallace’s prying eyes alike. Wallace doesn’t think a man like him needs protecting, but he still looks away out of politeness.

The rest of the group gather around the casket. They murmur and whisper amongst each other, some offering comforting words and touches to the ones who start sniffling.

Who the hell are these people, appearing out of nowhere to cry by Ace’s grave?

“Hey, you must be Wallace,” comes a voice from behind him.

Wallace turns to find a nerdy white guy standing in front of him. He looks young and has old-fashioned glasses and an ill-fitting suit, but he stands straight and looks Wallace right in the eye, with an air of quiet confidence that catches Wallace off guard.

“Y-yeah,” Wallace stutters. Clearly, he could use some of that same confidence.

The man gives a little smile and holds out his hand. “Dwight Fairfield. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Wallace accepts the handshake and asks, “You’ve heard about me?”

Dwight huffs, like something is funny. “More than you can imagine.”

—

With all of them there, the priest starts the ceremony. It’s short and simple and Wallace is thankful, because the only deity Ace ever believed in was lady Fortuna.

Dwight gives a eulogy. Wallace doesn’t understand most of it and by the looks of it neither does the priest, but he doesn’t need to know what trials mean or why some campfire is important to get the gist of it. This is the seven years of Ace’s life Wallace knows nothing about: these are the people he met and the life he led. So many people from all over the world—France, China, Brazil, Japan—and they all came here for Ace.

Wallace is glad Felix made him wait for them.

A black girl in a floral dress arranges the flowers on the casket. There’s so many different kinds and she quietly explains what they all mean, and Wallace chokes on a sob when she tells Ace’s casket, “And Snowdrops for good luck, because I want you to have that even when yours ran out.”

A redhead with glasses places incense by the gravestone. Wallace only then notices it says Ace Visconti, and he doesn’t know what strings someone had to pull to engrave it with Ace’s chosen name and not his legal one, but he’s grateful for it.

The incense smells like warmth and fire, comforting and so different from the cold and wet around them.

Felix wordlessly slides down to his knees beside the casket and nobody seems surprised by this other than Wallace. The expensive tux will probably be ruined by mud but Felix doesn’t appear to care: like he’s happy to lower himself to Ace’s level even if it means everyone else is now looking down on them. He places his hand—scars and calluses and all—on the smooth wooden surface of the casket and sits there for several minutes, murmuring words in a language Wallace doesn’t understand.

When Felix rises, Dwight asks Wallace if he wants to say something. Wallace shakes his head: he’s not good at speeches and he didn’t bring anything fancy to leave on Ace’s grave.

The alligator tooth he won all those years ago presses into his chest under his shirt, but Ace would be pissed if he left it on the grave. He’d say something like, “I’m already dead, what the hell do you think I’m gonna do with a gator tooth necklace? Win a ghost beauty pageant?”

Or maybe Wallace just wants something of Ace’s to hold onto.

At the priest’s encouragement, some of the men in the group help lower the casket into the grave. Wallace assumed they’d have to let the church staff do it since it was just him and Felix, but now there’s also a big bearded man and a guy with face tattoos and a loud Brit and a quiet Hispanic man who help them put Ace into the ground.

A blonde woman plays guitar and sings. The song is melancholy and her voice sounds familiar, accompanied by sniffles from several people in the group. The priest gives a few parting words after to close the ceremony.

And then they shovel.

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Just as Wallace hopes this will be quick so he can go drown his sorrows in booze, the Brit points his shovel down at the casket and says, “Just layin’ there while we do all the work, eh? Lazy wanker.”

Several people laugh, and then others join in to tell stories and share memories of Ace and Wallace does too, even if he still doesn’t know what a trial is. He tells them about his and Ace’s big win in Seattle and one of the girls, the redhead with braids, snorts and asks, “Was that the time Ace stole a uniform and pretended to be a dealer so you guys could scam the casino?”

Wallace stutters and they all look at him expectantly. Some of the kids are grinning and even Felix is smiling, though his eyes are still red from crying.

Wallace finds himself chuckling and giving them the unfiltered version of the story, now knowing they can handle the not-so-legal parts of it. His audience listens raptly and some even chime in with details Wallace didn’t know about that day—or just typical exaggerations Ace would have added to the story. He doesn’t bother correcting them.

The priest shortly leaves—probably not thrilled about them bonding over gambling and stealing—but the whole group stays to wait for them to finish shoveling.

Even after they’re done, nobody makes a move to leave; on the contrary, they all settle into a big circle on the ground, carelessly dirtying their nice dresses and suits. Felix takes a seat next to the grave and the black woman sits down on his other side, with the rest already having fallen into place like it’s a practiced effort. Like everyone has their own place.

Wallace hesitates. He thought they were done here, but the others urge him to join them, pointing at the other side of the filled grave. Wallace does as told and realizes the grave acts like an empty spot, like Ace is still part of the group.

Before Wallace can get too sentimental, a man with a prosthetic arm thumps a big cooler in the middle of the circle and beers and sodas begin exchanging hands. An Indian woman starts dealing playing cards and several bets are made among the group before the game even starts. The singer whips out her guitar again and starts strumming an upbeat melody.

“Is this allowed?” Wallace asks even as his chest warms. “It’s a graveyard. Isn’t this against the rules or somethin’?”

An older black man shrugs. “Loitering isn’t grounds for arrest and I think Felix is more than capable of paying a fine if someone calls the police.”

Wallace only then notices a badge peeking out from his shirt pocket. He’s a cop: Ace somehow befriended a cop, and now he’s here, honoring Ace’s memory with an illegal party like the rest of them.

“Here,” Dwight says, handing Wallace a beer.

Wallace doesn’t ask if they should be drinking and celebrating at a time like this. He just uncaps his beer and raises it along with the others once they toast and the Brit booms, “To Ace!”

Because a party is exactly what Ace would have wanted.

—

They stay there for hours; laughing, playing, drinking and telling stories. Wallace actually makes an effort to get to know this strange group, though he still doesn’t catch all of their names.

Once the sun starts setting, the Korean woman complains about the cold even though she’s wearing a fur jacket. Jane fishes out a pair of keys from her pantsuit and says they have more blankets and snacks in the car, prompting the Brazilian siblings to jump up and volunteer to retrieve them.

On the other side of the circle, the boy with dark bags under his eyes has nodded off against Cheryl’s shoulder. Meg and Jake argue over whether to start a fire now that it’s getting dark, with Meg saying it’s not the same without a real campfire and Jake claiming they’ll end up burning down the whole graveyard. Adam manages to resolve the argument by retrieving a large lantern from the car, lighting up the area with a warm yellow.

Despite everyone’s best efforts to celebrate life and not mourn death, Wallace feels the heavy shroud of grief hanging over all of them. There’s a moment of hesitation whenever a card game ends and someone has to deal the players in again, strange gaps in conversation like they all expect Ace to fill the silence, and bright eyes glazing over in sadness whenever someone looks at his grave.

But there’s also joy and camaraderie. The wind is cold and the ground they’re sitting on is dull and brown, but Wallace can finally see a few flower buds sprouting through the rotten leaves. The group has lost one of their own but they choose to remember the good and not the bad; it’s probably a kindness Ace doesn’t deserve, but Wallace’s throat still feels tight with emotion from the respect being shown.

When the next card game ends, the Chinese girl starts cursing vividly, glaring at the grave and accusing Ace of cheating. Wallace laughs, because if Ace could, he would. Even from beyond the grave.

Some of the guys gather around newly appeared bottles of vodka for a drinking contest and the Japanese woman promptly gets up to join them. Her name must be Yui, because that’s what nearly everyone starts chanting.

Yui wins, drinking the much larger men under the table with what seems like barely any effort. There’s cheers and whoops from around the circle before the singer—Kate—encourages everyone to sing a campfire song together.

Wallace doesn’t know the song so he looks around, only to notice Felix quietly fiddling with something in his hands. It’s a ring: a particularly worn and gray and ugly ring, probably made of simple steel and not even silver. Why would someone like him even have a cheap knock-off like that?

Felix’s bitten nails trail over the inside of the ring and catch on an engraving and Wallace nearly swallows his tongue. He realizes he’s seen that ring many times before: Ace throwing it in the air and catching it; Ace fiddling with it in his pocket when he was impatient; Ace wearing it on his ring finger whenever a con needed him to pretend to be married; Ace having it engraved with some corny Latin phrase because it was supposedly another of his good luck charms.

When Ace returned from Europe, he claimed to have lost the ring, and Wallace should have smelled his bullshit right then and there. Ace wasn’t sentimental about a lot of things but his lucky charms were always the exception. Wallace had helped Ace throw a motel room upside down in search of a rabbit’s foot, listened to years’ worth of complaints after he won the gator tooth from him in a bet, and painstakingly superglued an old poker chip back together after it got run over by a car and Ace just sat on the sidewalk cradling the broken pieces like he was holding an injured animal.

Wallace should have known better than to think Ace would have just lost the ring.

Felix abruptly stills and Wallace realizes he’s been caught staring. Their eyes meet and Felix curls his hand around the ring, holding it tightly against his chest.

A lot of things suddenly make sense and Wallace feels stupid for not realizing it before. Felix isn’t even wearing the ring, but he doesn't have to: marriage isn’t meant for people like Ace and Wallace, and just Felix having something so important of Ace’s and being this protective of it says more than enough.

Wallace considers pulling out the alligator tooth to rest over his shirt instead of hiding it underneath, but he doesn’t want to give off the wrong impression. Ace was like a brother to him and he’s not sure what exactly he was to Felix—friend, lover, partner, kindred spirit?—but the specifics probably don’t even matter. Whatever they were, Ace was happy with Felix.

Wallace settles on a meaningful nod to Felix, giving his approval even if it wasn’t asked for. He then quickly turns back to observe the group’s singing, but can’t help smiling to himself: looks like Ace’s special European someone made it here after all.

“I’m gonna do a handstand!” someone drunkenly announces as soon as the singing stops.

“You only have one hand, jackass!” Nea pipes up.

“Does anyone want to dance?” one of the siblings asks, swaying a little on her feet.

“What, on Ace’s grave?” Zarina asks, arching an eyebrow. “Even I’m not that glad to be rid of him.”

Laughter erupts from the group once again. A few people roll their eyes at the alcohol-fueled antics but nobody protests or shushes the progressively louder voices; not even when someone suggests a handstand contest that will most likely end in a visit to the ER.

Wallace braves another glance at Felix but he’s just smiling again. Most people probably wouldn’t welcome this kind of behavior at the funeral of someone they loved, but Felix knew Ace—all of these people did, maybe even better than Wallace. And they stuck by Ace’s side for seven years and made this horrible day into a celebration he would be proud of.

Seven years. That’s all the time it took for Ace to somehow become a man Wallace barely recognizes anymore. He did what Wallace never thought either of them capable of, what he’d have bet his entire life savings on never happening.

Ace found a family.

Wallace bows his head and chuckles, addressing the empty space on his right. “Twenty-five years of friendship and you still keep surprisin’ me.”

He thinks that, somewhere, Ace is smiling.

#ace visconti #riconti #dbd fanfic #felix richter #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

15 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 7 months

Text

[Riconti] The Long Con (part 2/6)

Bitchy Felix my beloved. Rated T | 2k words | ao3 link [previous] [next]

"Oh, really?" Ace said, feigning interest. "An architect? That has to be a really demanding profession."

The man next to him cleared his throat. "Not really."

Ace forced a smile and silently cursed his luck. He'd been trying to break through this guy's facade for nearly half an hour without much progress.

"He's lying!" the woman opposite the table from Ace exclaimed loudly. "Two weeks ago, we stayed at the office for 36 hours straight to finish a project!"

"Wow." Ace whistled lowly. "Now that's what I call dedication. You had to be dead on your feet after, huh?"

A minute shrug from Mr. Antisocial. "A little."

"You drank a quadruple espresso. Black," the woman continued, then turned to Ace. "I thought he was going to give himself a heart attack—I kept screaming 'Don't you dare die before you finish that render!'"

Ace laughed good-naturedly. "Hey, have to keep your priorities straight. And for what it's worth, I'm very happy neither of you succumbed to a caffeine-related early grave."

That got a small twitch of the man's mouth. "I think Americans and the sugary milkshakes you call coffee are more at risk for that."

"Well, excuse us for not wanting to drink bean water au natural," Ace teased.

The joke only earned him another bored glance. Ace took a big gulp of his beer to fill the awkward silence.

This really wasn't going according to plan.

When Ace first walked into the beer tent that Meg had pointed him to, he'd been briefly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the space. The tent looked even bigger than it had from the outside, full of tables and benches and a bar that ran almost the entire length of the room. A good portion of the tables were already occupied and wait staff scurried about in traditional outfits, carrying huge glasses of beer to their eager customers.

Ace had made his way to the bar and ordered the first beer on the menu. The bartender—dressed in suspenders and lederhosen and one of the ugliest pairs of socks Ace had ever seen—filled his glass from a wooden barrel, and Ace had to admire the vendors’ dedication to preserving the old-timey atmosphere.

Unfortunately, tradition also seemed to dictate that the default serving size was one whole liter of beer.

Ace had struggled to even carry his damn beer without sloshing it all over his favorite shirt. In the end, he only made it to a currently closed section of the bar, but it was a good vantage point to take in the sea of people.

While observing the chatter, the unholy amounts of beer being consumed, and the most leather pants Ace had seen since the eighties, he'd spotted a small group sitting at a corner table not far away. Or more specifically, his eye had been drawn to a woman dressed in a seemingly unassuming white t-shirt and a simple silver necklace, gesturing animatedly with her purse as she talked to her friends.

But the shirt looked like an expensive material, the sunglasses pushed up into her hair were from a designer Ace recognized, and the necklace he remembered seeing in a pawn shop—selling for over a grand. The woman's entire outfit radiated the sort of casual luxury that most people wouldn't even notice.

Fortunately, Ace had spent the last thirty years practicing how to do just that. And with the majority of festival-goers sporting identical-looking traditional Bavarian garb that was impossible to appraise, the woman was by far the safest bet when it came to schmoozing up to a wealthy target.

Ace sipped on his beer and kept watching the group out of the corner of his eye. It was only three people—the woman and two men—and Ace waited to see if others would be joining them from the bar or returning from a bathroom break. Larger groups were usually harder to squeeze into and if another woman joined the trio, they were obviously two couples enjoying the festival together who would not be happy about Ace fifth-wheeling.

But after ten minutes and no sign of potentially missing friends or the group even glancing around for anyone, Ace felt confident enough to proceed with his plan. He gave himself a cursory once-over to check for beer stains on his clothes before making a small detour back to the bar, just on the odd chance that he was being watched. He pretended to study the food menu before looking around the tent like a dumb little tourist—which wasn’t entirely an act—and then made a show of noticing the group for the first time and strolling up to their table.

After that, it was the familiar spiel of, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?", followed by a sheepish smile as they turned to look at him, and then, "This is actually my first Oktoberfest and I'm a little lost."

The woman had immediately offered an excited, "No, no, sit down!", the man next to her had smiled and nodded, and Ace turned to the final member of the group who he'd only seen the back of so far—

And proceeded to nearly choke on his spit because holy shit, was that guy a model or something?

One of the most handsome men Ace had ever met frowned at him, his brows drawn together as his icy blue eyes studied Ace. His blond hair was impeccably styled with not a strand out of place and his checkered dress shirt and navy blue waistcoat hugged his broad torso perfectly. Like almost everyone else, he was also wearing lederhosen, though these were of the more form-fitting variety and Ace sorely regretted not ogling his backside while he'd been watching their table earlier.

Ace managed a friendly smile, to which the man just turned back to the table and shrugged unenthusiastically. The message was clear: Ace could stay, but he wasn't happy about it.

Not bothered by the reaction, Ace took his seat and the woman immediately started introducing them all in heavily accented English. Her name was Lauren, the man beside her was Daniel, her husband, and the hottie with a bad attitude was Felix, her business partner slash best friend.

And, really, Ace's original plan had been to simply befriend Lauren—at least as soon as she said "husband" and Ace realized that flirting would probably not go over well. Still, Lauren was sociable, already tipsy, and seemed to like Ace from the get go; it would probably only be a matter of time before she asked her charming new friend to watch her purse while the rest of them got more drinks or something.

But then Ace rolled up his sleeve and reached over the table to shake Lauren's hand, and Felix's gaze immediately snapped to Ace's exposed forearm before roving over his entire body.

Ace's skin felt hot from the obvious once-over and he almost stuttered on his own name as he greeted both Lauren and her husband. When he went to shake Felix's hand, Felix's large palm was a little sweaty and he couldn't quite meet Ace's eye anymore.

And sure, Lauren would have made an easy target. But Felix?

Well, flirting was definitely back on the menu when it came to Felix.

…Or that's what Ace initially thought, but after countless attempts at conversation that Felix shut down immediately, he was starting to doubt his intuition.

Maybe Felix hadn't been checking him out. Maybe he just hated arm hair with a passion, or felt extreme second-hand embarrassment from Ace's shirt choice?

Ace forced down some more of his beer and desperately grasped for another conversation starter. He glanced around the tent and spotted a few rays of sunlight shining in through a transparent panel on the ceiling—surely, small talk about the weather was at least a safe topic?

"Really nice weather for a festival," Ace said.

"I like rain," Felix said, because of course he did.

Ace would have probably excused himself at that very moment. But Felix started unbuttoning his cufflinks—the tent was getting a little warm from the sun—and Ace happened to catch a glimpse of his watch in the process.

Mechanical. Swiss made. Possibly platinum?

Oh, and probably worth at least thirty grand.

Realization slowly dawned on Ace: Felix was likely the wealthiest person in the entire room. Hell, maybe even the entire festival.

Ace straightened his back and put on his most charming grin. The pot had just been sweetened a whole lot, and Ace wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

He'd crack this man's code somehow.

═════════════ ♤ ═════════════

"—And Melbourne was really nice as well," Ace said. "Have any of you been to Australia?"

"Not yet," Lauren said.

"Once, but that was over twenty years ago," Daniel said. "I don't remember much."

Ace nodded, then smoothly leaned closer to Felix. "What about you, blondie? Any exciting travel—"

"What are you doing, dad?" a very familiar and thoroughly exasperated voice butted in.

"Meg!" Ace exclaimed, quickly putting distance between himself and Felix.

He turned to face Meg, who was standing behind him with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. At least she'd had the decency to pretend they were related instead of addressing him as "Hey, asshole" like she did most times.

"I was just getting to know some of the locals," Ace said. "Did you want to join us? I mean, if that's okay…?" He glanced at Lauren in question.

Lauren was already nodding enthusiastically, but Meg immediately shot the suggestion down.

"No," Meg said pointedly. "I just wanted to talk to you. Alone."

Ace smiled at the table. "Be right back."

═════════════ ♤ ═════════════

"What the hell are you doing!?" Meg hissed once they were out of earshot.

Ace shrugged. "Getting into the festival spirit?"

"If by 'festival spirit' you mean Blondie McSnob's pants!" Meg accused. "Just nick his wallet and dip!"

"I'm playing the long con," Ace said. "He's loaded, and he likes me."

Well. Sort of. Maybe.

Meg crossed her arms again and glared. "I remember what happened last time you said that."

Ace winced. "Last time" referred to almost a year ago, when he'd seduced a target and then ended up running through the fancy garden of her estate in the middle of the night, clad in only his underwear while her husband chased him with a shotgun.

That night Meg had been the angriest Ace had ever seen her, patching up his wound from where a bullet had grazed him while screaming in his ear about, "You knew she was a mob wife and you still fucked her! You could have died, you fucking useless piece of shit!"

Ace knew it meant, "I was so scared, please don't ever do that again."

"It's not like that," Ace insisted. "He's harmless."

Meg scoffed.

"Come on, look at the guy," Ace said. "He can barely put a sentence together and he's an architect. The most dangerous thing he's done is probably yachting without a life jacket."

Meg snorted and discreetly looked back to the table. "He does kinda seem like a nerd."

"A rich nerd," Ace stressed.

"Ugh, fine," Meg groaned. "As long as you remember rule number one."

Ah, throwing Ace's own teachings back in his face: one of Meg's favorite pastimes. Rule number one, of course, being, "Never get attached to your target."

"I know what I'm doing," Ace said, then smirked. "You'd better get to work if you still plan on winning our bet, dear 'daughter'."

Meg responded with the middle finger, and then she seamlessly slipped back into the crowd.

Ace sighed and absent-mindedly fiddled with the rabbit’s foot hanging from his belt: one of the knick-knacks he’d attached to it in what the internet told him was an old Oktoberfest tradition. Hopefully one of the lucky charms would work, because god knows Ace could really use some good fortune right now.

Forcing a smile onto his face, Ace ventured back to the table.

#riconti #dbd fanfic #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd #dweetwrites #dead by daylight

20 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 4 months

Text

[Riconti] Holiday spirit

Happy holidays riconti fandom! Please accept this gift of festive fluff 🥰 Rated G | 3.2k words | ao3 link

Felix still feels strange being back in his hometown.

The Coburg market square is bustling with life at the annual Christmas market. Felix was never an avid visitor before, but this time the nostalgia is kicking in full force: the smell of street food and mulled wine, the glow of string lights and the big Christmas tree, and even the obnoxious holiday jingles make his chest ache with familiarity. It’s almost like he never left Coburg in the first place.

Except for the fact that one Ace Visconti is here with him.

Ace has a mug of Glühwein in his hands and is blowing on the hot beverage, his eyes eagerly drinking in the busy market. It’s a couple degrees below zero and a gentle snow is falling, but despite Felix’s best efforts to the contrary Ace is thoroughly underdressed for the weather. He has neither gloves nor anything to cover his head, and his windbreaker jacket and pants might protect him from the nonexistent wind but not the late-December temperature.

But even if Ace must be freezing, he hasn’t complained once.

…Unlike Felix, who complained first about the long line to the sausage kiosk, then about the awful apple punch they made the mistake of trying, and then about a family of stupid tourists blocking the street. But that’s neither here nor there.

Ace’s nose and ears are already red and Felix should probably be annoyed at him for not dressing properly, but instead he finds it oddly endearing. He doesn’t know how long it will take Ace to get used to German winters after decades of sun on the west coast of the USA, but today is clearly not that day.

A group of teenagers pass them on the street and briefly pause to stare at Ace—who’s currently browsing a selection of wooden crafts—and a few of them giggle and continue on their way. Felix really can’t blame them: the bright, clashing colors of Ace’s outfit stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of muted winterwear in grayscale and neutral colors. Looking at the neon pink and green for too long would probably give Felix a migraine; but then again, he only has his past self to blame for deciding to flirt with a man who combined a leopard print shirt with purple sequin pants.

Felix smiles to himself. If awful fashion sense was a dealbreaker for him, their relationship would probably have lasted less than twenty-four hours total.

“What’re you grinning at?” Ace asks, having caught him staring.

“You,” Felix says bluntly. “And your outfit that is horrendously unfit for this weather.”

Ace scoffs. “It’s not that cold.”

Felix simply smiles. “Come on,” he urges, “We should try the crepes next.”

Ace obediently falls into step beside him. Felix’s hand twitches in a familiar urge to touch—born out of countless times of patching up injuries, pulling each other up on their feet, and sitting by the fire leaning against Ace in quiet solidarity—but there are too many people here and too many eyes on them.

Of course, it doesn't help that Ace is wearing the equivalent of a big flashing sign saying “Look at me!”

“You know, I wasn’t too sure about this market when you first told me about it,” Ace says while they walk. “But it’s actually really cozy with the snow and lights and all. And any event that boils down to drinking wine and eating good food? I’m sold.”

“I’m glad,” Felix says. “It was never my favorite, but I wanted to show you. And even I missed it, after…”

He trails off, and something in Ace's eyes softens.

"I love it. And I'm glad you wanted to take me here," Ace says. And then, because getting him to be earnest for more than five seconds is like pulling teeth, he grins and adds, "Even if I'm pretty sure all these 'handmade Bavarian' souvenirs came straight out of a Bangladesh sweatshop."

Felix grimaces. He always hated how the tourist crap seemed to overtake more and more of the event each year.

That being said, he still stopped to buy a terribly overpriced and absolutely hideous knit hat while Ace was busy refilling their Glühwein mugs at another stall. It will make a nice Christmas present to match his questionable excuse for a winter jacket.

“So how exactly are crepes German or festive?” Ace prods.

“Because the French can't take credit for mixing milk with flour and throwing it on a pan,” Felix huffs. “It's bad enough they got to name them. Pretentious little shits.”

Ace smirks. “I’m telling Élodie you said that.”

“Trust me, she has much worse opinions about Germans.”

“Ah, sweet neighborly rivalry,” Ace sighs. “I can't wait to meet the Lyras again so they can try—and fail—to argue that Brazil is better than Argentina.”

He looks at Felix expectantly, clearly waiting for him to agree.

“I wouldn’t know,” Felix says. “I’ve never been.”

“Maybe you should do something about that, then,” Ace says. His voice is playful and his smile casual, but he’s still looking at Felix a little too intently for it to be a joke.

“You just have to tell me when and I'll be there,” Felix says and fully means it.

“Yeah, right,” Ace snorts. “I bet Lauren would love for you to go touristing in the middle of a big project.”

“You’re vastly overestimating my importance in the company,” Felix says. “Lauren survived five years without me. I don't think a week will even make a dent in her schedule.”

Ace regards him silently: he knows that Felix took on much less responsibility upon returning to work—“Richter & Golder” was practically just “Golder” these days, and Felix was grateful Lauren even wanted him back on the team at all—but Felix suspects it’s another thing to see it in practice.

“You'd really come to Argentina?” Ace finally asks.

“Of course,” Felix says. “But only if you want me to.”

Ace beams up at him, then throws his head back and groans dramatically. “Oh, god, my sisters will eat you alive. Please don't learn any Spanish before the trip. Or Italian. You know what, just wear noise canceling headphones whenever they’re around. Actually—”

Felix watches Ace ramble with a smile. He’s leaving for Buenos Aires in just a few days to spend the holidays with his sisters and their families, having reunited with them after their escape from the Entity. For as much as Ace sang the praises of Las Vegas and America for the last few years, he doesn't seem to care much about going back to the USA compared to Argentina and Germany.

“—though, full disclosure, if you don't like Dulce de Leche I'm breaking up with you,” Ace says.

Felix chuckles. “I suspect I won’t, but I’ll be sure to lie for your benefit.”

“That’s all I ask,” Ace says with a grin.

They’re finally coming up to the crepe kiosk and Ace turns to look at the menu. It’s a little strange to imagine not being with him for Christmas, seeing as they’ve—admittedly not by choice—spent every holiday together for the last few years. Even if said holidays mostly consisted of Dwight in an elf costume distributing firecrackers and styptic agents around the campfire.

But Felix knows they both have more important places to be. Ace hasn’t spent quality time with his family in decades, and Felix's number one priority for the foreseeable future will spending every moment he possibly can with his own new family:

His five-year-old daughter, Klara.

Felix's ex-girlfriend has invited him over for Christmas eve to have dinner and open presents together. It will most likely be indescribably awkward—especially with both his ex’s parents and her new husband there—but they’re all doing it for Klara, who seemed very excited about the idea.

Or possibly just about the extra presents.

Regardless, Felix immensely respects his ex for not only managing to build a stable home for their daughter when he disappeared, but for being honest with said daughter from the start. Even when she was furious with Felix for seemingly abandoning them, for five years she told Klara stories about her other father building houses and showed her pictures of him. And when Felix finally showed back up and tried to pick up the pieces of his broken life, he got to meet his daughter for the first time and she immediately recognized him.

Felix clears his throat before washing down the sudden lump in his throat with some Glühwein. He’s not sure what he's done to deserve so many incredible people in his life—the survivors, Lauren, his ex, Klara, Ace—but he’s determined to be a man they can all be proud of.

“Che.” Ace nudges Felix's side, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Is the crepe guy okay?” Ace whispers, leaning closer to Felix while staring at the shopkeeper frying a batch of crepes. “He just chucked three whole chocolate bars on a crepe and wrapped it up like it was normal.”

Felix snorts, his somber mood instantly elevated. “It's a Kinder bar too. That has to be some kind of crime against gastronomy.”

“I know.” Ace only pauses for a beat before asking, “Should we get one of those?”

Felix doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”

Ace shoots him a lopsided smirk. “You really do have a soft spot for tacky things,” he says, then turns to place their order.

Felix bites his lip to suppress a thoroughly dorky smile. Just five years ago, he would have scoffed at the mere sight of children’s street food and retro windbreakers, all to preserve the image of a man nobody even liked. And even if the motto of “be yourself” first seemed like an impossible task after half a lifetime of hiding everything genuine about himself, it’s been slowly but surely resurfacing—through trials, friendships, and having someone by his side who never judges.

Felix doesn't have to filter himself with Ace. Even his worst foot-in-mouth moments only earn teasing remarks in response and more often than not end in both of them laughing. Ace doesn’t take offense to Felix's bluntness and he more than pulls his weight in the playful bickering that has become one of Felix's favorite pastimes.

And Felix knows the feeling goes both ways: all their years together have chipped away at Ace’s compulsive lying just like it has for Felix's play-act. Ace has never had to avoid talking about his past of crimes and addiction and betraying people for money, because Felix doesn't judge him by who he was before, but rather by who he is today.

Just a few days ago, a seemingly harmless question about whether Felix could chip in for Ace’s plane tickets derailed into a serious conversation, with Ace sitting Felix down and making him swear to never give him a significant sum of money or gift him anything valuable that could be returned. There was always a part of Ace that would crave the thrill of gambling and the risk of relapsing increased significantly if he had easy money lying around—no matter if he knew said money was meant for rent, bills, or a plane ticket.

Felix was silent for a long time after that revelation. Ace tried to joke it off and desperately switch the subject, but after Felix quietly stood and pulled him into his arms, Ace just slumped against him and exhaled a long and shaky breath. Neither of them had to use words, because the meaning was clear:

Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for understanding me. Thank you for being here.

“Biological weapon acquired!” Ace strolls up to Felix with a grin, holding a cardboard plate with a crepe and two forks sticking out of it.

Felix probably shouldn't be making heart eyes at a man in full neon carrying a glorified candy pancake, but he does.

Ace steers them to an unoccupied table and hands Felix his fork. They proceed to eat a few bites in expectant silence.

“It’s good,” Ace says, clearly surprised. “Why is it good!?”

“It’s way too sweet,” Felix complains. He still keeps eating the crepe.

“Let’s just agree that after three mugs of wine we’re too drunk to know better,” Ace says.

“Speak for yourself, you lightweight.”

“Well excuse me for not being six-foot-two and born with German beer in my veins!”

Felix snorts and proceeds to almost choke on his bite, then bows his head to wheeze quietly instead.

“That’s it, no more Kinder for you,” Ace says, holding the plate protectively against himself. “I should have known that shit is like crack to Germans. No wonder it’s banned in the States.”

Felix wheezes harder and has to lean against the table for support, his shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. He dimly registers someone muttering, “What the fuck is wrong with that guy?” in German, but he really can’t bring himself to care.

When Felix has somewhat collected himself and looks up, Ace is smiling smugly at him around a forkful of crepe.

“Drink?” Ace asks, pushing his mug closer to Felix’s empty one over the table.

Felix nods and accepts the item, and in quiet understanding they turn to stand side by side and look over the market while Ace polishes off the crepe and Felix finishes his drink.

He enjoys these moments of silence between them just as much as the usual back-and-forth or long conversations at the campfire. Felix knows that they still have a lot to figure out when it comes to adjusting back to a normal life, with the logistics and long distance and Felix's daughter. But instead of the existential dread that’s plagued Felix for most of his life, these days he only feels a deep calm when thinking about the future.

Things have been so much easier when there’s a constant in his life, something that’s not dependent on Felix's career or family name. And every time Felix wakes from a nightmare or starts second-guessing himself on whether all that horrible shit really happened, he just has to listen to Ace snoring next to him or touch one of the numerous lucky charms he insists on showering Felix with.

Ace is tangible proof that Felix went through hell and came out stronger for it. He’s been Felix's anchor for years and even when he’s across the world, Felix still feels just as grounded as he does with Ace right by his side.

Ace glances at Felix and catches him looking—Felix has been watching him for quite some time instead of observing the market—and he quirks an eyebrow as he tosses the empty plate in a nearby bin.

“You’re staring again,” Ace says. “Are you gonna keep nagging about my jacket?”

In response, Felix simply leans closer, then hesitates and searches Ace's eyes. Understanding dawns on Ace’s features before his mouth splits into a bright smile, and then he’s grabbing Felix by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down for a kiss.

Ace’s nose is cold where it bumps into Felix’s cheek but his lips are warm, stained with chocolate and mulled wine and soft against Felix’s. Felix cups Ace’s head and sinks into the gentle press of their mouths, simply enjoying the closeness.

Felix doesn't care if people are watching. He doesn’t care if someone sees him with a man or thinks they’re being inappropriate. He doesn’t care that they still have many challenges to face. For the first time ever, Felix knows exactly what he wants to do with his life and he’s going to do everything in his power to get it.

Starting with kissing the man he loves in the most crowded place in all of Coburg, apparently.

Ace is trembling when they pull apart. Felix could flatter himself by thinking his kissing prowess was enough to make him weak in the knees, but the truth is that the weather must finally be catching up to Ace.

And he still won't admit it, the stubborn idiot.

“You know,” Felix starts, brushing his thumb over the stubble on Ace’s cheek. “There’s a pub I like just down the street. Why don’t we go and warm up for a little while?”

“Oh, thank god,” Ace groans and thumps his forehead against Felix’s shoulder. “I’m fucking freezing and this supposedly famous wine really isn’t all that great.”

“You could have told me you were cold.”

Ace pulls back enough to give him a defiant stare. “And listen to your ‘For the love of god, Ace, I told you five times to bring a scarf’ all the way home? Not a chance.”

“I would never,” Felix says. Ace huffs a disbelieving snort, and Felix can’t suppress his smile as he continues, “Because I told you at least ten times and also asked you to bring gloves, and a thicker jacket, and—”

“Okay, okay!” Ace exclaims. “Christ, the word Besserwisser was probably coined just for you, wasn’t it?”

Felix chuckles and reaches into his pocket for the knit cap he bought earlier. He was planning to wrap it and gift it properly another day, but practicality usually trumps sentimentality where Felix is concerned.

“Here,” Felix says, holding out the item. “Merry Christmas.”

Ace stares at the hat while most likely silently judging both its cliché reindeer pattern and questionable orange-brown color scheme.

“It’s traditional Bangladeshi reindeer,” Felix deadpans.

“Thank you,” Ace finally says slowly, then puts on the hat. “How do I look?”

Felix tries not to laugh as he takes in the sight. The cap somehow looks even worse when it’s worn because of the pattern stretching and distorting. The price tag also still dangles loosely from the too-big pompom on top, and the muted orange and brown somehow makes the neon of Ace’s jacket pop out even more obnoxiously.

“Fucking hideous,” Felix concludes.

Ace barks out a laugh and Felix chuckles too. Despite Felix’s harsh words, they’re both leaning into each other, Ace’s arms wrapping around Felix’s waist and Felix gently tucking a few errant strands of gray hair into the cap.

“Good,” Ace says, then looks up to meet Felix’s eyes with an overly exaggerated pout. “Now hold me, I’m cold.”

Felix smiles and slings an arm over Ace’s shoulders to pull him even closer. “Come on. It's not far.”

Ace lets himself be led to a quiet pub around the street corner, insisting on paying for their drinks while apologizing for not having anything to gift Felix in return. Felix maybe gets a little sappy and confesses that just having him here is the best gift of all, and in response Ace tugs him into a corner booth and kisses him longer and deeper than is probably appropriate.

And despite the cold and crowd and fashion hiccups along the way, this year’s Christmas market will remain Felix’s favorite for a long, long time.

Or at least until next year when they no doubt visit it again.

Thanks for reading! 💞 Ace’s outfit is from his leaked winter skin, because it’s tacky and I love it. (Minus the headpiece. What the fuck is that beard.)

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

11 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 7 months

Text

[Riconti] The Runaway

A silly little Wild West AU that nobody asked for 🥰 Rated T | 600 words | ao3 link

"—And bring him back unharmed. Do we have a deal?"

Caleb huffed. "Y'know the Sheriff wants him on a noose. Payin’ bail ain’t gonna cut it this time."

“I know.” Richter’s expression didn't even flinch. "But Sheriff Tapp isn't here, is he?"

Caleb bit back a smirk. Richter was usually a real stickler for rules who put his business first and anything remotely fun second. But pull the right strings, and he was apparently ready to take some shortcuts with the law.

Caleb knew that feeling all too well—after Bayshore and the warden, many of his Hellshire boys had gone right back to their outlaw ways. And after dealing with sour sheriffs and incompetent militia on the regular, some days Caleb was very close to joining them instead of continuing this gun for hire bullshit.

Luckily, Richter wasn’t interested in his gun.

"Bounty's for dead or alive," Caleb drawled. "What's stoppin' me from puttin' him down and gettin’ the bounty for his corpse?"

"The fact that I'm tripling the bounty if you bring him to me," Richter immediately countered.

If his broken jaw still let him, Caleb would have whistled. He didn't know why someone with Richter's status would bother throwing away that much money on some low-life scum, but he wasn't about to complain about a well-paying job.

"It ain't gonna be easy," Caleb said. "A lotta bounty hunters are gonna be after that gold, an' a rat like him's not gonna just let himself get found."

"That's why I'm asking you and not them," Richter simply said.

It was almost a compliment, but Caleb didn't care. They both knew he was the best tracker in the business.

"Alright," Caleb said. He pushed off the wall he'd been leaning on to rest his bad leg. "I'll bring 'im in."

Richter smiled from behind his desk. "Always a pleasure doing business with you."

Caleb grunted an affirmative and went to walk out of Richter's office.

"Oh, and Caleb?" Richter said once he was halfway out the door.

Caleb stopped but didn't bother turning to look at him. "Hm?"

"Unharmed," Richter stressed.

Now that Richter couldn't see it, Caleb was free to roll his eyes. It was like people took one look at the Redeemer and thought he went around harpooning people for fun.

Well, he did. But only those who deserved it.

"I got it," Caleb said.

Not waiting for a reply, Caleb slammed the office door and straightened his hat while he walked through the pompous manor. Because Richter supposedly lived alone, Caleb did his best to ignore the numerous Spanish books tucked into every bookshelf and the pair of boots in the entryway that were too small to be Richter's.

He already had a good few ideas where to start looking for his target. The bastard had a bounty in almost every state around these parts, but knowing him he’d just ignore the danger and hide in plain sight in one of the big cities. Poking at a few contacts would probably be enough to get a decent lead; after last time, Caleb had asked a few of his boys to keep an ear to the ground for sudden new gambling rings or snake oil merchants.

After all, this was already the third time in as many months that Caleb had been hired to drag Visconti home.

#caleb quinn #riconti #felix richter #dweetwrites #dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight

13 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 5 months

Text

[Ace X Jeff X Élodie X Felix X Zarina] Birthday blues

I may be writing for an audience of one (myself) but I just love all of these idiots and think they should kiss. Continuation of this fic set in the same AU, this time starring a very disgruntled Ace. Rated M | 3.8k words | ao3 link

"¡Che, boludo! Are you fucking stupid!?" Ace yelled. "It says forty kilometers, not 'slam the brakes and drive in first gear'! Christ, my abuela was a better driver than you and she was blind!"

Predictably, the Toyota in front just kept trucking along at a snail’s pace as the idiot behind its wheel remained oblivious to Ace’s tantrum.

Ace huffed and sagged back against the car seat, barely resisting the urge to blast the horn to make his displeasure known. Instead, he busied himself with adjusting the rear view mirror, because it was Jeff’s car and he and Ace were very much not the same size. Ace usually couldn't be assed since the only time he used the mirrors was to check himself out rather than look at traffic—probably one of the reasons people were reluctant to let him drive—but he felt a petty sense of glee when he noticed a line of cars forming because of the stupid Toyota.

Ace didn't normally get road rage; in fact, he was usually the one laughing at Felix’s German insults and Zarina’s swearing behind the wheel. But today was his birthday, and it was a special kind of torture to be stuck in rush hour behind some Sunday driver when he just wanted to get home.

Not that there was anything there waiting for him. Felix was at work and would run late because of some seminar, Élodie was sleeping off the jet lag after her trip to Indonesia, Zarina was nose-deep in editing her latest documentary and had barely left her room for days, and Jeff was finishing up his latest painting for some art collector.

All things which were evidently more important than Ace.

At least Jeff was going to cook for him—which wasn't really saying much, since it was his turn to make dinner regardless, but Ace felt better if he didn’t think about that. Of course, grocery shopping had also been on Jeff’s to-do list, but he'd emerged from his studio looking so frazzled and asked Ace with his puppy eyes if Ace could possibly make the trip for him.

And because Ace loved Jeff, and had pretty much been lounging on the couch in his PJs doing absolutely nothing anyway—definitely not moping after he'd gotten up early to see Felix off for work and Felix not only didn't bring up his birthday, but asked Ace to make him coffee and then fucked off without even a goodbye kiss—he'd agreed.

Part of Ace had still been hoping the grocery run would reveal some sneaky plans Jeff had for his birthday. He'd patiently waited for Jeff to write a shopping list and then immediately read it as soon as he got into the car. But there was nothing: no birthday candles, no ingredients for any of Ace's favorite foods, no wine, no flavored lube…

Clearly, nothing indicating Ace's birthday at all.

Ace might have conducted himself a little aggressively once he arrived at the supermarket, flinging things into his shopping cart and purposefully ramming it into the cart of a blond guy in a suit. He also decided to get a bunch of extra items outside of the list and use their joint account to pay for all of it, because it was his birthday, dammit, and seeing as none of his partners bothered getting him any gifts he'd get them himself.

Except a grocery store at rush hour wasn't exactly the best setting for meaningful birthday gifts. Still, Ace vindictively piled on a couple gift cards, the most expensive bottle of wine he could find, one single cupcake and birthday candles, and a can of condensed milk he fully planned to eat straight out of the tin because fucking stupid Germany didn't have dulce de leche.

Ace was already feeling a little better as he made his way to the checkout: nothing like some good ol' retail therapy to fill the void of being ignored by the people he loved.

And then, of course, the card of their joint account declined. Because Zarina was responsible for it, and she'd barely remembered what day it was when Ace last saw her in the middle of her editing frenzy.

So Ace had to pay for the groceries with his own card and leave out all the extras, because he absolutely refused to pay for his own gifts out of principle. And definitely not because he couldn't afford them.

That turned out to be a blessing in disguise because Ace was barely able to carry the bags to the car as it was. And leaving the nice wine bottle at the store was somewhat preferable to trying to juggle it with the bags and having it smash into pieces on the parking lot pavement.

After all of that, a little road rage felt pretty deserved.

Ace's hands were still shaking on the steering wheel. He couldn't remember when he'd last been this angry; it wasn't like he'd expected much for his birthday, because he knew how busy everyone would be. But just some acknowledgement—or maybe a guarantee that they'd celebrate together at a later date when everyone had more time—would have gone a long way.

Ace didn't need brunch and champagne in bed like they'd done for Felix's birthday, or the seven-course dinner at that fancy restaurant they went to for Élodie's. Sure, Ace had planned those months in advance, but he knew the others weren’t as sentimental—even if he already knew what he was getting Zarina and Jeff even though it was half a year until their birthdays.

But that was what you did, wasn’t it? Admittedly Ace had always been a little materialistic, but if you liked someone, you gave them something nice, even if it was just a bouquet of wildflowers you'd picked off the side of the road or a half-burnt omelet that didn’t quite turn out like the recipe promised. Ace would have been happy with birthday kisses and a cheap gift and ordering takeout from the shitty kebab place with free delivery, and that really wasn't unreasonable to ask of his partners; no matter how busy they were.

Maybe they just didn't like him enough to bother.

Ace let out a half-hysteric, half-pathetic laugh. If he somehow ended up getting dumped by four people on his birthday, he really didn't know what he'd do.

…Except piss in Felix's koi pond in revenge, but after that.

So he just wouldn't think about it. And besides, everyone acted like this was just a normal day, and not a let's-finally-kick-Ace-to-the-curb day. Ace just had to act like it too, because it wasn't like he could bring up the birthday thing now. If they genuinely forgot, it would make them feel bad and nobody would have time to throw anything together on such short notice anyway, and then everyone would be miserable. And if they actually were ignoring it on purpose, well, then Ace would feel even more awful than he did now.

Ace would just go home and unload the groceries, and then call his sister, because she'd sent him a happy birthday text earlier, because someone actually cared. By that time, Jeff would probably have finished dinner but he'd eat in his studio like he always did when he was busy, so Ace would eat alone and likely end up doing the dishes like some pathetic Cinderella without a fairy godmother.

Then he'd steal a couple of Élodie's expensive French chocolates for dessert, go upstairs and have a sad wank alone, and come back down to get a drink—probably trying and failing to find anything but the gross boxed Merlot they kept under the sink and nobody wanted to drink. Nonetheless, he'd take the garbage wine to the living room and spite-watch the new episode of Zarina's favorite show without her, and if he was lucky it would be late enough that Élodie was up and maybe joined him for some cuddles.

Or yelled at him for eating the chocolates. Whatever.

In any case, Ace had no illusions that he wasn't sleeping alone tonight. Jeff and Zarina would work to well after midnight, Élodie would only start eating breakfast once Ace went to bed, and Felix would be in his don't-touch-me-or-talk-to-me mood after his work event inevitably ran long.

Lost in his thoughts, Ace managed the rest of the drive home without further meltdowns, but he was still seething once he pulled up in the driveway to the Richter manor. He didn't even bother to park the car in the garage—Felix would probably have nagged at him for parking wrong anyway—and just pulled to a stop by the front door.

He hefted out the ridiculously heavy grocery bags, silently complained that he was getting way too old for this shit, and left Jeff's car right there in the middle of the driveway to annoy anyone who tried to leave or enter the property. Hopefully it would get shat on by some birds.

Ace walked up the steps to the house and prayed that the handles of the bags didn’t snap. He managed to maneuver the bags into one hand without catastrophe striking, and unlocked the door with the other…

And the door got jammed. Fantastic.

"Fucking…piece of shit!" Ace cursed, violently jiggling the key in the lock.

Finally, the door unlocked and Ace shouldered it open. Once inside, he turned to face it and, hands still occupied, kicked it shut with as much force as he could.

The whole wall shook and rattled from the impact and Ace glared at the door some more.

“That’ll teach you,” he said smugly.

“Mon Dieu, what did the poor door do to you?”

“Very funny,” Ace said, still annoyed. He turned around to face Élodie, already complaining, “You gonna give me a hand or—”

And that was when he very nearly dropped the bags he’d worked so hard to get home in one piece.

Élodie was not wearing the comfy reindeer one-piece she usually lived in after a long business trip. Neither was she wearing her regular silk pajamas or one of Jeff’s oversized band shirts she was prone to stealing.

No, Élodie stood there in the Richter manor’s foyer on an unassuming Tuesday afternoon, dressed in nothing but a sinfully flattering bustier and lacy stockings.

“Welcome home, m'amour.” She strutted up to Ace and gave him a kiss on the cheek, which was probably good considering Ace’s mouth was occupied with gaping like a fish. “Do you like my new outfit?” she asked, stepping back and doing a little twirl.

"I, uh…" Ace floundered as he greedily drank in the sight of her, his previous anger all but forgotten.

The mint color of the lingerie contrasted Élodie’s skin tone beautifully. White lace framed the swell of her breasts and the tiny hem of a skirt was barely enough to cover her panties. Ace’s eyes followed the garter straps down her thick thighs and he had to swallow a groan once they reached the lace edge of the stockings.

Élodie really wasn’t playing fair; she knew how weak Ace was for the thigh-highs.

"You’re stunning,” Ace said, a little breathlessly. His fingers itched to touch and he realized he was still holding the stupid bags.

Not one to be deterred, he eagerly continued, “That bustier is gorgeous. Did you buy it on your trip? You look even more beautiful than usual, if that’s possible.”

Élodie smiled, clearly pleased. "Flatterer."

"Wait, how are you up already?" Ace remembered, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from her figure. “Were you waiting for me?"

"Of course I was,” Élodie said. “We had to send you away for some errands to not ruin the surprise.”

"What surprise?"

A low chuckle sounded to his left. "Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday,” Jeff said, stepping out of the kitchen. “Oh, let me get those for you.”

Jeff grabbed the shopping bags from Ace, but he barely registered the action—a small part of his brain was celebrating that somebody had remembered his birthday, another was relieved to finally be rid of the heavy bags, but the rest chose to focus on…

"Are you wearing flannel?" Ace exclaimed. It couldn’t be: Jeff hated flannel. Jeff didn’t even own flannel, and Felix sure as hell didn’t either, so—

Jeff shrugged, his cheeks pinking. "You keep calling me a lumberjack, so…"

"A sexy lumberjack," Ace corrected. Then, his expression softened as he realized, "You dressed up as a sexy lumberjack for my birthday."

Jeff gave him a tentative smile. "Do you like it?"

Like it? Jeff looked like something straight out of a gay porno, with his luscious beard and messy man bun and red and black checkered shirt that hugged his massive shoulders and soft belly.

"I'm gonna climb you like a tree," Ace concluded.

Jeff laughed, then stepped back into the kitchen with an, “I’ll go put these away.”

"What’s with the dress-up party?" Ace asked, turning back to Élodie. "Did you two conspire some birthday shenanigans while I was gone?"

"Two?" Élodie quirked an eyebrow. "Your turn, mon coeur."

And that was when Felix stepped out from around a corner where he'd apparently been eavesdropping.

"You got me a Felix?" Ace joked. "I love it."

Élodie chuckled. "Your actual gifts are in the kitchen. I just thought this was more urgent."

"And that's why you're the brains of this household," Ace’s mouth ran on autopilot while he ogled Felix.

Felix fidgeted under his gaze, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest where he was wearing a gold-trimmed white vest over a black dress shirt. He looked unfairly good—he always did, but these clothes somehow only highlighted it.

Ace cocked his head. "Is the vest new?"

"No, but it's the first time I've convinced him to wear it." Élodie pushed at Felix's shoulder. "Turn around, mon chéri."

"I feel like a Barbie doll," Felix muttered but still did as he was told.

"You look like one too," Élodie shot back.

Ace was about to add his own witty comment but proceeded to choke on his own spit instead as soon as Felix turned around.

Felix's vest had criss-crossed lace down the entirety of the back, and suddenly it became clear why he looked even better than usual today. He wasn’t wearing just any old vest Élodie had dug out from his overflowing closet of designer suits: he was wearing a corset vest.

Ace stepped closer like hypnotized, running his fingers over the X-pattern of the lace. The vest made Felix’s already drool-worthy shoulder to waist ratio even more pronounced, cinching his middle and highlighting both his broad shoulders and the curve of his ass.

Ace had never seen a man in a corset before and his brain was more than a little scrambled. He simultaneously wanted to grab Felix's tiny waist and cling to his defined shoulders and pull on the lace while Felix laid on his front and squirmed and—

"Doesn't he look adorable?" Élodie asked once Felix turned back to face them.

Adorable definitely wasn’t the word Ace would use. "Uh…" he looked stupidly up at Felix, silently wondering how much he’d have to beg to get him to wear only the vest in bed.

Felix winced. "I told you this was a stupid idea. He doesn’t even like it—"

"I want to eat you," was what finally came out of Ace’s mouth.

Élodie laughed and Felix sputtered, his face flushing with pink blotches.

"But, wait.” Ace shook his head, trying to refocus. “I thought you had that seminar today? I wasn’t expecting you home before…"

"I took the afternoon off." Felix looked at him with a small smile. "I didn’t want to miss your birthday."

Élodie cleared her throat and Felix grimaced.

"...Which I only remember once Élodie called me," Felix said. “I forgot, I'm sorry. I must have seemed like an ass this morning."

"I'm suddenly having a lot of trouble even remembering this morning," Ace said, then smirked when an idea formed in his head. "But I do remember you still owe me a kiss."

Felix chuckled and leaned down to kiss him, wrapping an arm around Ace's waist and pulling him close the way that always made Ace weak in the knees. His mouth was hot and insistent and Ace did his best to kiss back while eagerly pawing at Felix’s muscular chest over the vest.

“I got you flowers,” Felix said when pulling away, much sooner than Ace would have liked. “They’re in the kitchen. Did you want to…?”

“Mm, no, that’s okay.” Ace stepped back and looked at both Élodie and Felix in turn; they really made quite a picture. “I bet they’re beautiful, but I’m enjoying the view right here. Though I feel very underdressed,” he added with a grin and self-conscious shrug.

Élodie smiled knowingly. "Do you need some help getting out of your clothes?"

Ace perked up and certain other parts of him did too. "Yes, absolutely. I am completely helpless and exhausted from carrying groceries and require at least four extra—" He saw Jeff exit the kitchen. "—six extra hands to take off my pants."

Jeff chuckled and leaned in for a quick kiss, his lips warm and a little chapped against Ace’s.

“Here,” Jeff said, handing him a drink.

The cocktail was bright red and had a small orange slice on top. When Ace sipped it, the strong tastes of Campari and vermouth mingled on his tongue—ah, an Americano.

Ace sighed indulgently and leaned into Jeff. “Oh, this is so much better than that under the sink wine.”

“Ugh, I keep forgetting to throw that away,” Felix muttered to himself.

“Why don’t we head upstairs?” Jeff asked, his voice a deep rumble in Ace’s ear.

Ace shivered from the pleasant scratch of Jeff’s beard against his hair and the warmth of his big hand splaying over Ace’s lower back. It was a small miracle he managed to resist throwing himself at Jeff and ask him to carry him to bed.

“Are you sure? What about dinner?” Ace asked instead, managing to summon the last of his brain cells. “And shouldn’t we wait for Zarina?”

Yes, he might have been getting a little greedy, as he already had three of his partners right here who seemed very eager to celebrate his birthday. But it wouldn’t be the same without Zarina, because Ace loved them all very much and was sentimental like that.

He also really, really wanted a fivesome if he could get it.

Fortunately, Élodie informed him, “Zarina finished her editing earlier. Who do you think laced Felix up?”

Élodie laughed and Ace did too, because Zarina was freakishly strong for her size. He could vividly picture her aggressively pulling on Felix's corset with one foot braced on his ass.

"I'm actually sad I missed that," Ace said.

"The screaming was a little funny," Jeff admitted.

Felix’s face reddened even more. "It wasn't supposed to be that tight, and I was staying still even if she claims otherwise!"

Ace barked out another laugh, then suddenly felt silly, standing there laughing with the people he’d been so annoyed with earlier.

"I can’t believe I thought you guys actually forgot.” Ace said. He took a sip of liquid courage and sheepishly admitted, “I, well… I kind of had a tantrum at the supermarket. And on the drive home."

Jeff rubbed soothingly up and down Ace’s back and Felix just nodded, like road rage was perfectly acceptable. Élodie however pouted and stepped closer, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry we made you think we didn't care," Élodie said, then kissed his jaw sweetly. "We love you, mon chéri. You are so precious to us."

Ace’s face heated and even Jeff and Felix shuffled their feet awkwardly. Talking about feelings wasn't really something any of them were particularly good at—Zarina included—but for Élodie, it always seemed to come easy. They'd somewhat accepted that sometimes, she had to speak for all of them.

"Thank you, mi corazon." Ace clasped Élodie's hand with his spare one and kissed her knuckles, before looking up with a smirk. "I feel a little bad about planning to eat all your fancy chocolates now."

Élodie patted his cheek. "Trust me, I would have done much worse if you forgot my birthday.”

Ace laughed. "Noted." There was a muted crash from upstairs. "Um…is Zarina okay?"

Élodie cocked her hip and smiled suggestively. "Yes, she's just making the master bedroom a little…cozier."

“I’ve never seen that many candles in my life,” Jeff huffed.

Felix's brows pinched together. “If she starts a fire…”

"Oh, relax, m'amour," Élodie said. "This evening is all about romance—"

"Has anyone seen my strap-on!?" Zarina’s voice echoed from upstairs.

"It’s still in Felix’s room from last time!" Élodie yelled back, not missing a beat.

Ace nearly choked on his drink and Felix gave Élodie a look of absolute betrayal.

“Thank you!” Zarina shouted before a door slammed shut upstairs.

Élodie sighed. "Ah, and there goes that surprise."

Ace’s stomach did an excited little flip-flop. With the way things were looking, he probably wouldn’t be able to walk properly tomorrow.

But man, would it be worth it.

"We should check on Zarina," Felix said, when Ace knew what he really meant was, “I need to make sure Zarina doesn’t burn my house down or reveal any more embarrassing aspects of my sex life.”

Maybe Ace could convince him to demonstrate his previous encounter with Zarina and her strap.

“We should check on her,” Élodie agreed, then looked at Jeff and asked, "If everything with the order went okay?”

Ace craned his neck to peer up at Jeff over his shoulder. "Order?"

“I took the liberty of ordering in from that Ethiopian place you like,” Jeff said, still petting Ace’s back and making warmth spread though his whole body. “They're gonna deliver it in a few hours, since I figured we might be busy for a while.”

Ace frowned. “But they don't deliver this far out.”

"They do if you tip them well enough," Felix said in his I-threw-money-at-the-problem-until-it-went-away voice.

"More time for us to spend with the birthday boy," Élodie crooned, stroking Ace's beard. "Ready to celebrate, mon amour?"

Ace looked at his partners and felt unbelievably fond. To think that he was so sure they'd forgotten, when all this time they had all gone through so much trouble for him—Élodie masterminding the whole thing and even getting Jeff and Felix to play dress-up, Felix canceling his important work event, Jeff ordering his favorite food, and Zarina risking Felix's ire with the fire hazard…

Ace downed the rest of his cocktail in one go and grinned. "Lead the way!"

Élodie grabbed Ace’s hand and he locked elbows with Felix as she tugged him along. Jeff followed a step after them, his hand snaking around Ace’s hips and already undoing his belt buckle before they’d even reached the top of the stairs.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

#ace visconti #jeff johansen #elodie rakoto #felix richter #zarina kassir #riconti #jefface #felodie #zarinace #ot5 #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

7 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 7 months

Text

[Riconti] The Long Con (part 5/6)

Probably my favorite chapter of the fic. Hope you like it 🧡 Rated T | 5.4k words | ao3 link [previous] [next]

Two days later, Ace took the train to Coburg.

It was a modest-sized town, so instead of a cab he opted to walk the thirty or so minutes to the Richter manor—in order to save money and be more incognito, of course.

It certainly was not because his skin was clammy with cold sweat and the urge to bolt was becoming more and more pressing with every step of directions his phone's navigation app gave him.

Ace really should have taken Meg's advice and simply mailed the keys.

His plan had just felt too good to pass up on. He'd go to Felix's house while Felix was at work, use the key to get inside, help himself to a few more shinies he'd been denied of when their evening was cut short, and leave the keys and a mysterious note on Felix's kitchen table like a suave gentleman thief. It would be the perfect ending to their short-lived romance.

But as Ace arrived at his destination and stared at the intimidating exterior of the Richter manor, all thoughts of his plan flew out the window. The house wasn't that big—at least compared to the awful McMansions rich people across the pond seemed to swear by—but it was old, clearly having been passed down through generations of accumulated wealth. The photos Felix had shown really didn't do the house justice.

The manor was clearly lived in, though. A couple expensive-looking cars were parked by the garage and while all the hedges and flowers were carefully trimmed, there was a bike leaning against a lamp post and children's toys scattered across the front lawn. The garden had to be behind the house; it was a little weird that Ace already knew from the pictures what the koi pond looked like and where Felix had built a playhouse for Klara despite never setting foot on the property.

But the very worst thing about the manor was that it wasn't even guarded. The yard was surrounded by a fence that was low enough to easily jump over, but even that was unnecessary because the gates were wide open for anyone to waltz right through and break in with a stolen key.

Ace's gut churned unpleasantly and an overwhelming sense of wrongness washed over him. He might be a gambler, but this was playing with fire; if he got caught and arrested, he'd ruin not only his own but also Meg's life.

What the hell was he thinking, coming all the way up here?

Ace spotted a mailbox attached to the fence and hurried over to it. Before he could second-guess himself, he flung the lid open and shoved the little plastic bag with the keys and keychain through the slit, until they fell in with a soft clang against the metal of the box.

His hands were shaking as he slowly closed the mailbox and stayed there leaning on it for a couple uneven breaths. His heartbeat pounded in his ears but this was it. It was done.

Ace winced as he realized he'd have to come up with some excuse to explain to Meg why he showed up empty-handed after promising to procure more of Felix's stuff. He'd just have to spin a tale about impenetrable gates and 24/7 surveillance, maybe throw in a couple feral guard dogs—

"Ace?"

Ace's head snapped up in alarm and he immediately locked eyes with Felix, who was standing next to the garage only a few meters away. He looked a lot different than before, wearing an ugly orange sports jacket and sweatpants instead of the festival outfit, staring wide-eyed at Ace like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Probably wondering how someone could be stupid enough to rob him and then come to the one place they knew where to find him.

For a moment, they both stood frozen in place. Ace's body was already tensing in a familiar reflex to bolt at a moment's notice.

Shit, shit, shit. Ace had even worn a disguise for the very unlikely possibility that they’d cross paths, but of course Felix miraculously managed to see right through the sunglasses and baseball cap. Why the hell was he even home at this hour!?

"Papa?" a soft voice asked from further away, breaking the awkward staredown as Felix immediately looked away.

Ace followed Felix's gaze to see a girl walk out of the garage and to Felix's side. She looked exactly like in the pictures and was wearing oversized rubber boots that Ace knew she used when feeding the koi.

"Ja?" Felix asked.

"Who is that?" Klara asked in German, staring at Ace curiously.

Ace, who should already be in full sprint and getting the hell out of here, but inexplicably still remained rooted to the spot. In all the time he'd spent putting his stupid plan together, he'd somehow completely managed to neglect the possibility that not only would Felix be home, but that he'd recognize and even talk to Ace.

Felix glanced back at Ace. "It's a friend," he said in English, then turned back to his daughter and continued in German, "Why don't you go wash up and then get the cookie I promised?"

Klara nodded enthusiastically and they both watched her clumsily run inside the house in her too-big boots.

As soon as the door closed behind Klara, Felix's sharp gaze was back on Ace and he started walking closer. "What are you doing here?" he asked, but it sounded about ten times less angry than Ace expected.

"What—what are you doing here?" Ace shot back dumbly. "I thought you were at work?"

"Klara felt ill this morning, so her mother dropped her off once I said I could stay home today." Felix stopped as he reached the fence and frowned down at the mailbox between them. "Did you just put something in my mail?"

"I…"

"Of course not!" Ace should say, or, "I'm just seeing the sights," or the classic, "Gotta go, bye!"

"Yes," Ace confessed instead. When Felix kept staring and waiting for him to elaborate, he sighed and took a step back. "Just open it."

Felix easily stepped over the waist-high fence with his long legs. He unlocked the mailbox while Ace stood guiltily beside him like a kid caught with his hand in the candy jar.

Felix grabbed the little plastic bag—in his panic, Ace had forgotten he was supposed to take the keys out with gloves to prevent fingerprints—and his eyes widened as he registered its contents.

"This is…" Felix's voice trailed off as he pulled out the keychain.

And that was when it hit Ace that Felix might not have had any idea before now just who was responsible for his missing personal belongings. He could have been too drunk to remember anything: maybe he thought he’d simply dropped the items during the festival or got targeted by some faceless pickpocket in the crowd.

And Ace, the idiot that he was, had just served him all the evidence on a silver platter.

"Please don't call the cops," rushed out of Ace.

Felix turned to him and frowned. "What?"

"I can't leave Meg," Ace continued, the panic rising in his chest. "She'll be all alone stuck in Germany, and—and I know I was an idiot for coming back, I just needed to…I don't even know—"

"Papa!" a shrill shriek interrupted. They both turned to look at the front door, where Klara's scrunched up face was peeking out. "The zipper is stuck!" she complained, her voice approaching tantrum levels.

"I'll be right there!" Felix called out.

And then he turned to Ace and smiled, and Ace swore he nearly had a heart attack. "Won't you stay for coffee?" Felix asked.

"Uh." Ace blinked to feebly try to clear his head and make sense of the situation. "What?"

"You…this means a lot to me." Felix clutched the keys to his chest. "Please. Allow me to thank you."

What the hell? Was this some kind of trap?

"I know you're not stupid," Ace said warily. "You know what I did, and I think it's best for both of us if I just leave."

"If you want to, I won't stop you," Felix said. "But do you really think I would let you meet Klara if I didn't trust you? That I would call the police for a meaningless trinket I got from some business associate?"

Wow, okay; Felix really just referred to his thirty thousand euro watch as a trinket. A voice in Ace's head that sounded suspiciously like Meg was screaming at him to run away, but it wasn't like Ace had ever been particularly good at listening to any voice of reason.

"Coffee sounds nice," Ace said.

Felix smiled again—a real smile, the same one he'd had at the festival while listening to Ace talk about Meg.

—

The inside of the manor was surprisingly cozy despite its intimidating exterior.

It didn't feel stuffy and stale like Ace expected from a building this old, nor was it tackily extravagant like so many upper-class homes Ace had broken into in his youth. At least the foyer Felix led him through and the living room Ace could see further ahead looked recently renovated, with light hardwood floors and timeless pieces of furniture that only highlighted the exposed beams and wood carvings that had to be original features of the house.

Ace should probably have guessed that an architect would have an eye for interior design.

The kitchen, however, was sleek and modern. Ace had half-expected to be served tea and fancy pastries in a formal dining room, so it was a relief when Felix gestured for him to take a seat at the small breakfast table by the window.

Klara was already waist-deep in one of the lower cabinets—probably rummaging around for the promised cookies—and Felix hummed softly to himself as he went to get the coffee started.

Ace still felt very out of place as he carefully sat down and somewhat reluctantly removed his shades, hat and jacket, leaving him in an old damask shirt and absolutely nothing to hide his face behind. If he'd known this was how the day would go, he would have worn something nicer or at least washed his hair.

But then again, Felix was only in a tee and sweatpants and didn't seem at all embarrassed about being underdressed. And as Ace watched him scoop regular filter coffee into the machine and Klara emerge from the cupboard with two plastic packages of cheap cookies, he felt himself starting to relax.

Maybe their worlds weren't so different after all.

Klara started making her way across the kitchen, only to be stopped by Felix's pointed words of, "I said one cookie."

Klara turned to give her father a thoroughly unimpressed look. "They're not for me, they're for our guest." The "you dummy" was implied, Ace assumed.

"Really doubt I'll be able to eat all that, princess," Ace said.

Two pairs of startled blue eyes snapped to Ace's.

Klara grinned. "You speak German?"

"Of course I do," Ace said, smiling back at her before glancing up to see Felix's reaction.

Felix had his head bowed and was pinching the bridge of his nose, but his shoulders were shaking with quiet laughter.

"Of course he does," Felix muttered to himself, then looked up with a small smile. "Why am I not surprised?"

Ace smiled innocently. "Because I'm very talented at a great many things?"

Felix blushed—hopefully thinking back to Ace's incredible flirting and kissing prowess—while Klara smacked the cookies on the table and eagerly demanded, "Can you draw!?"

Ace's cocky smile faltered. "Oh, uh… Not that well." But looking at the kid practically bursting with excitement, he remembered, "But your dad told me you're a very talented artist."

Klara's cheeks pinked but she was still beaming up at Ace. "Can I show you?"

Ace knew exactly how this would end even before he replied, "Of course!"

—

Ace should really stop underestimating anyone named Richter.

Over the next hour, Ace saw what was probably Klara's entire drawing portfolio since the day she was born. She kept explaining her art so fast that Ace struggled to keep up with translating in his head, all the while Felix tried his best to stop her from spilling over either of their coffee cups in her enthusiasm.

Ace was starting to run out of synonyms for "cute" and "great" but Klara showed no signs of stopping, getting carried away just as easily as her dad had with his photos a few days prior.

"This is me and auntie Élodie!" Klara said, pointing at her latest masterpiece.

"Well, you both look very pretty," Ace said.

"She gave me a backpack from Egypt!" Klara said excitedly. "I can show you—"

"Klara." Felix abruptly stood up and reached for his keys on the countertop. "Did you see what Ace brought?"

Klara paused and looked up at her dad—she had to tilt her head comically far back—before noticing the keychain he was holding.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, then turned back to Ace. "You found it!"

"I—uh," Ace floundered, because he couldn't very well say, "Yeah, I stole it from your dad when he was drunk. How funny is that!"

"He did," Felix chimed in. "And he was nice enough to come here all the way from Münich to bring it back."

"That far!?" Klara exclaimed, her mouth falling open in a surprised 'O'. "Is that why you look so tired?"

Ace huffed a surprised laugh. He even heard Felix snort, because apparently this family were all secretly little shits.

"Yes, it is," Ace lied, because, again, it was better than, "I was actually playing slots in a dingy bar until two a.m." "It's a long train ride."

Klara hummed. "Do you live in Münich?"

"I'm going to get more coffee," Felix announced before Ace had a chance to reply. "Klara, do you want another glass of juice?"

"Mm-mm!" Klara shook her head. "I'm going to watch TV."

Felix nodded and made his way to the coffee machine. As soon as his back was turned, Klara grabbed two more cookies before innocently walking out of the kitchen.

By Ace's count, she'd already had four in between showing her drawings, but that kind of stealth deserved to be rewarded.

Ace downed the last bit of his now-cold coffee and watched Felix wash a few dishes and fiddle with the coffee maker. It was a welcome beat of silence after the intensity of an excited six-year-old rambling about her hobby.

Ace should probably be on the edge of his seat from nerves now that the buffer of Klara was gone, but the atmosphere in the kitchen just felt…relaxed. Felix looked calm and ridiculously domestic in his home clothes, such a far cry from the stuck-up asshole or nervous wreck from the festival, and Ace—

Ace had really, really missed him.

Ace cleared his throat and stamped down on the fluttering feeling in his stomach. "If I'd known I was meeting the next Van Gogh, I would've taken German lessons in art critiquing,” he joked.

Felix chuckled and turned to look at him, leaning back against the kitchen counter in a way that made him look unfairly attractive.

"Thank you for humoring her," Felix said. "Your German is quite good."

It was nice of him to not draw attention to the part where Ace had lied in his face about that fact.

Trying to return some of that kindness, Ace smiled and said, "Being nice to your kid is really the least I could do."

Felix hummed in a non-answer. "I didn't expect her to want to talk to you for so long. She's usually quite shy."

"Well, you did say she was sick," Ace joked.

"Oh, that." Felix rolled his eyes. "Klara told me she went to the movies with her mother yesterday, and I'm pretty sure her 'illness' this morning was just too much popcorn and candy last night."

"Or she just wanted to hang out with you for a day," Ace said before he thought better of it.

Felix looked at him in clear surprise, before he winced and ducked his head. "Maybe you're right."

Wow, great move: shaming his more than a gracious host for bad parenting was surely the way to go.

"Sorry, I didn't mean—" Ace tried.

Felix sighed. "No, you're right. I need to figure something out with the company. It's one thing that I miss Klara, but if she misses me this much, I have to do something about it."

Ace stayed quiet and tried to ignore his steadily growing attraction to Felix, because this was ridiculous. Yes, Ace had dealt with absent fathers both when it came to Meg's and his own upbringing, but surely at fifty he was way too old to still be having daddy issues.

After a moment, Felix cleared his throat. "Sorry, I was just thinking out loud." He brought the coffee pot to the table and poured himself another cup, then turned to Ace. "More coffee?"

Ace glanced at the clock on the wall. "I really shouldn't."

Felix ignored him and refilled his cup anyway, and Ace got the distinct feeling that the conversation was far from over.

But Felix also got a carton of milk out of the fridge and placed it next to the bowl of sugar in front of Ace. Because even though Felix took his own coffee black, he remembered Ace's offhand comment about bean water from the festival.

It was such a small thing, but Ace's traitorous heart still skipped a beat.

"So…" Ace said once Felix retook his seat.

"I love Klara more than I love anything else in this world," Felix stated.

Ace instinctively straightened in his seat from the serious tone. It seemed they'd reached the portion of the visit where Felix would—rightfully so—chew Ace out for his lying and stealing.

"And there is nothing I wouldn't do for her. Nothing." Felix stressed the word, staring dead straight into Ace's eyes.

Ace swallowed. "I've gathered as much, yeah."

Rather than yell at Ace, Felix just relaxed and leaned back in his chair. "So why should I judge someone else for what they have to do in order to keep their family safe?"

"…What?" Ace said.

"It's obvious how much you love Meg," Felix said. "So if my stupidly overpriced watch allowed you two to travel more together or helped you save up for her college fund, that's a much better use for it than anything I could have done."

Ace bit the inside of his cheek as his instincts yelled at him to not say too much. Even if he doubted that Felix was secretly recording their conversation for the police, he knew he shouldn't just volunteer information like that.

But at the same time, there was a part of Ace that desperately wanted to talk about this to someone. Felix seemed to value honesty above all else and after the kindness he'd shown Ace today, lying would just put them back to square one.

And, well, if worse came to worst Ace knew that the front door was unlocked and only a room away in case he needed to make a quick escape.

"She's…Meg's not actually mine," Ace said. "There's no college fund or father-daughter bonding or whatever you're picturing. We're not even related."

Felix frowned. "But you care about her."

"Of course, but I only met her three, four years ago; she actually tried to pickpocket me, if you can believe that." Ace laughed, though it was a hollow sound. "She was just a kid, orphaned after her mom died—that part's true—and she had nobody, and I just…helped her get back on her feet. And then she never left. I mean, I know I'm not her dad—"

"You are," Felix interrupted, his voice surprisingly firm. "In every way that matters."

It was a nice sentiment, and some days, Ace desperately wanted to believe it. But he knew better.

Ace huffed and looked down at his coffee cup. "I don't think good dads teach their kids to hotwire cars or make them live in shitty motels for four years."

Felix fell silent and Ace prepared himself for the inevitable look of pity he was bound to receive. He always made sure they never looked homeless and that at least Meg had access to all necessities, but empty sympathy was the last thing either of them needed.

Though if Felix were to offer another of his thousand-dollar accessories, Ace would have to swallow his pride and accept it. Maybe he and Meg could stay at an actual hotel next time, instead of a shitty hostel with bed bugs.

Instead, Felix sighed and clasped his hands on the table. "You know, I was raised in a cult."

"Excuse me?" Ace asked, his eyebrows steadily creeping up towards his hairline. He must have misheard that.

Felix grimaced. "My parents were part of…they called it a secret society, but it was a cult. Both of my parents and a few others were murdered by its other members over twenty years ago."

Ace was openly gawking now. What on earth was this? Was Felix just messing with him?

"I was orphaned at seventeen and my best friend at even younger than that," Felix continued. "We spent years trying to leave that awful life behind: I had to suck up to my distant aunt until rightfully receiving this manor and the rest of my inheritance, and Élodie…" Felix paused. "Has been running errands for the black market since she was sixteen."

"Fuck," Ace commented eloquently.

"If we'd only had somebody…" Felix trailed off, then looked up at Ace with a smile. "You can understand why I look at what you did for Meg with nothing but admiration."

Felix might have been smiling, but the words "orphaned at seventeen" kept echoing in Ace's head. For a moment, he saw the same sadness in Felix's blue eyes that he'd seen in Meg's all those years ago.

It was difficult enough to think back to Meg barely surviving out on the streets as it was, nevermind imagine her having to deal with some crazy murder cult on top of that, or being forced to turn to the black market, or—Christ, what if she'd gotten trafficked?

Ace clenched his jaw as he realized that he hadn't even considered that possibility before. Realistically, he knew how the underworld worked and could think up a great many grim fates that might have awaited Meg if he hadn't intervened, but…she was still just one girl. And god knows how many people before her Ace had willfully ignored or even outright sabotaged for his own benefit.

He didn't deserve a medal for one singular instance of being a decent human being.

"I don't do this, you know,'' Ace finally spoke. "I never help people just out of the goodness of my heart or whatever. I don't know what made me decide to make an exception with Meg, but trust me when I say that was a once in a blue moon occurrence."

Felix tilted his head. "You've never thought about the reason?"

"I mean, I guess saw a lot of myself in her when I was that age." Ace said.

And wasn't that an understatement. Ace didn't have a sad backstory of losing a parent, unless being disowned after gambling away his mom's house and life savings counted. He'd managed to burn bridges and drive himself into such a corner that there had really only been a few ways out.

"Except I sold a kidney to get out of the country and Meg just had to put up with my shitty jokes,” Ace said. “I guess that's better."

Felix didn’t say anything, so to lighten the mood, Ace jovially added, “But let’s face it, not that much better—at least according to my exes.”

Felix blinked, and then as the joke sank in, let out an ugly snorting laugh that echoed in the kitchen and twisted his handsome face into a goofy expression wholly unfit for a serious architect.

Felix quickly covered his nose with his hand to hide it, but he couldn’t seem to stop quietly snickering. It made Ace's chest feel warm and his face split into a grin of its own accord. Felix hadn't laughed like that—really laughed—the entirety of the festival.

If Ace allowed himself to, he could easily fall in love with that laugh.

"That was terrible," Felix said once he'd recovered.

"Then why did you laugh?" Ace teased.

Felix side-eyed him, eyes still sparkling with amusement. Like he knew Ace was trouble but didn't care.

"Anyway," Felix said. "Because of the cult…ehm." He paused, glancing at the doorway that led to the living room.

Ace suddenly remembered that they weren't alone. "I probably shouldn't have talked about selling kidneys."

"Yes, saying it again surely helps," Felix deadpanned, and Ace barely suppressed a way too loud laugh at the unexpected sass.

He wheezed quietly into his sleeve instead, which was surely not much better.

When Ace managed to collect himself and looked up, Felix was smiling warmly. He wondered if Felix liked his ugly laugh too.

"It's alright,'' Felix said. "She's watching the Lion King. And based on the song…" He grit his teeth; the face of a father who had heard Hakuna Matata about two hundred times too many. "We have around half an hour before she even remembers that we're here."

Ace smiled. "I'll take your word for it."

There was a beat of silence as they both stared into their coffee cups.

"So, you were saying?" Ace asked. "Before the singing meerkat and ugly laughing happened?"

"Well." Felix cleared his throat. "I was simply going to mention that it took quite many years of therapy to understand that ritualistic animal slaughter and branding children with hot irons might not have made for the most balanced childhood."

Ace was very glad he didn't have coffee in his mouth because he definitely would have spit it all over the table.

"Holy shit," Ace said, his eyes wide. "Are you serious?"

Felix gave a small smile. "Hotwiring cars suddenly doesn't seem so bad, does it?"

Ace huffed. "Guess not."

"Don't worry, most of the people responsible are behind bars now—courtesy of Élodie and an investigative journalist," Felix said. "But I only recently finished painting over the summoning circle in the basement."

Ace was still reeling. Felix had seemed so normal and he never would have guessed that there was something this dark hiding underneath. No wonder he was so reluctant to let people close.

And Ace had trampled all over that hesitant trust.

He gave a shaky smile. "And here I thought living in the slums and picking pockets from age five was a shitty way to grow up."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—to make it a competition." Felix grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. "I haven't told many people, because…well, they always treat me differently, and…"

"And you don't want pity," Ace said.

Felix nodded. "The fact that you haven't said 'I'm sorry' yet amazes me."

Ace sighed and ran his thumb over the rim of his cup. "I think I've used up my quota of lies with you."

He wasn't sorry for stealing some of Felix's considerable wealth to provide for himself and Meg. He also didn't pity Felix for having a rough life: that was for the cult to apologize for, not Ace.

"I am sorry about the keychain, though," Ace remembered. "I didn't mean to take it."

"I know," Felix said. "You came to return it even when you didn't have to. And actions always speak louder than words."

Ace snorted. "Yeah? What does stealing valuables from someone drunk off their ass say?"

"That you'll do anything to make sure Meg has a good life," Felix said earnestly. "I also know that you're kind—and respectful. You were nice to Lauren and polite to me even when I was an asshole, and you waited six whole hours for me to make a move." Felix's cheeks pinked and he cleared his throat.

Ace chuckled. "I was wondering why my charm wasn't working."

"Some of us need…a considerable amount of liquid courage." Felix winced. "But even then, you could have simply left me back there after you got what you wanted. But you helped me into a taxi to make sure I got home safely."

Ace raised an eyebrow. "Are you actually defending me for tricking you and your friends and stealing from you?"

"No, I just—my point is," Felix said, "that I will never be upset at someone based on their past or the things they have to do in order to survive. I know it's not always black and white."

That was a surprisingly good point, and definitely not something Ace had expected of anyone with Felix's status to consider.

"I guess so," Ace said.

"And what about you?" Felix asked. "Now that you know all this about my past…do you see me differently? Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

Felix looked at him, and for a second, he seemed genuinely scared of Ace's reaction. He was wringing his hands nervously—a man who was so used to rejection, but still held out a sliver of hope.

"Well…kind of?" Ace said.

Felix's face fell and he hunched in on himself, so Ace quickly reached over the table to grab his hand before he could retract it.

"But trust me when I say that that is in no way a turn-off," Ace explained. "Who isn't at least a little fucked up in the head? That's just life; we all work with what we’ve got."

"I wish it was that easy," Felix murmured, almost as if to himself. "My first therapist kicked me out because he found my childhood too disturbing."

"His loss," Ace scoffed. "If someone thinks less of you because of any of that, that's their problem. The way I see it…"

Ace paused and frowned in thought. He'd meant to say he didn't care, but that wasn't exactly right either. If anything, knowing that Felix had a dark past just made him seem more approachable—more human.

"Actually, is it weird to say that I like you more because of the cult shit?" Ace asked.

Felix stared at him for a second and Ace almost regretted the words. But then Felix burst into laughter again, an absolutely hideous snorting laugh that made Ace want to keep him.

"It is." Felix said, still smiling. "It's absolutely horrible. And it's probably just as horrible that I laughed at it."

Felix gently loosened Ace's hold on his hand only to intertwine their fingers. His hands were more callused than Ace remembered but his eyes were soft, crinkling at the corners as he smiled and making Ace's heart pitter-patter happily.

Ace could almost physically feel the walls crumbling inside his head. The decades of lies, masks and self-preservation instincts weren't needed in this moment. Felix knew the ugly truth and he was still here, coaxing out what Ace thought were long-buried feelings of trust and affection and…

Hope.

And hope was a dangerous thing. Ace knew firsthand how hope always preceded disappointment, and betting his heart was the riskiest gamble of them all.

But without risk, there was also no reward.

Ace smiled, his mind successfully made up. Breaking the silence, he said, "I’ve gotta say, I didn't expect hand-holding to be on the menu today."

"Yes, I, ähm.” Felix’s face flushed but he didn’t let go of Ace's hand. "Me neither. But I'm glad. That…that you're here."

"Yeah," Ace agreed.

A beat of silence followed, though it wasn't necessarily awkward. They both no doubt had a lot on their minds with just how much had happened in the last couple of days.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Ace asked playfully. "Though now that I think about it, I probably need that penny more than you."

It was another joke in poor taste, but Felix still chuckled at it.

Ace was definitely keeping him.

"I was just wondering…" Felix trailed off, then cleared his throat. "I know this is very sudden, and I don't mean to be presumptuous, but…how much does Meg like Germany?"

Ace smiled brighter than he had in years. "I think she can be convinced to stay a little while."

#riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

9 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 7 months

Text

The Long Con (part 1/6)

Happy Oktoberfest! 🍻 With the festival starting today in München, I figured it would be the perfect time to start posting this fic 🥰 Please also check out @ell-clavel's amazing riconti art that inspired me to write this AU in the first place 🧡 Rated G | 1.5k words | ao3 link [next]

"Man, look at all these people!"

Meg's grin was bright as she jogged past Ace and looked around in awe, her bow-adorned braids bouncing in time with her steps.

Ace hadn't expected quite this much of a crowd, either. It was only a Monday afternoon but the festival area was quickly filling up with groups flocking to the large beer tents or shopping at the stalls lining the central street.

He knew Oktoberfest was popular, but not this popular.

"I wonder if they're here to see Denson too." Ace smirked. "You might have some competition for the spot as her number one fan."

Meg's face scrunched up. "Shut up. You're the one who insisted on flying all the way out here, not me. Oh, look, there's a chocolate fruit stand!"

Ace smiled and bit back a snarky comment as Meg excitedly took in what the festival had to offer. The girl was an avid fan of country artist Kate Denson's work—Ace had a sneaking suspicion it was something she'd listened to with her late mother—and after an off-hand comment that Denson would be performing in Münich at this year's Oktoberfest?

Well, Ace simply hadn't been able to resist.

Just like he couldn't resist obnoxiously cooing, "Want me to buy you some choccy bananas?" when Meg kept eyeing the food stall.

Meg bristled. "I'm not fucking five years old."

"Really? Could have fooled me, with those pigtails."

"I'm just blending in," Meg said.

She did a twirl to show off the rest of her outfit: a frilly top and floral bodice combined with full-length lambskin pants. She looked like she'd jumped straight out of one of those quaint paintings of a girl yodeling in the Alps.

"Which is more than I can say for some people," Meg snarked.

Unlike Meg’s outfit, Ace’s get-up had been thrown together on a budget. The fancy red waistcoat he’d…acquired from a casino’s staff room and it clashed horribly with the cheap fake bundhosen bought from a tourist shop. Hopefully, the random scarf and traditional Argentinian belt he’d tacked on would make it seem more like a fashion statement instead of an insult to Bavarian culture.

"So I took some creative liberties," Ace said.

"Yeah, that’s probably for the best." Meg smiled smugly. "You're about sixty years too old to pull off leather pants, anyway."

Ace gasped. "Attacked by my own protégé! The audacity!"

"Wonder where I learned that from," Meg said dryly. She looked around again. "I'm gonna go scope out the other tents before the concert."

"And here I thought you wanted me to hold your hand at baby's first festival."

Meg rolled her eyes and pointed at a large tent with something resembling a clock tower next to it. "That one looks the busiest. You go check it out and I'll come find you once I'm done."

Ah, ever efficient. Ace had taught her well.

"Remember to have some fun, too," Ace said. "All work and no play makes Meg a very dull girl!"

"And you remember what we're actually here for." Meg's piercing blue gaze bore into Ace's. "If I find you in a beer chugging contest again, so help me—"

"That was one time and the frat boys dared me!"

"Ace."

Ace smiled and shook his head. "Of course. Who do you take me for?"

Meg raised an eyebrow. "I bet I can score more than you."

"Oh, really?" Ace countered. "Maybe whoever loses should pay for lunch the rest of the week, if you're so confident."

"Deal." Meg turned around, waving over her shoulder as she walked away. "Smell you later, old fart!"

"Have fun, Firecracker."

Meg disappeared into the crowd and Ace allowed himself a moment to appreciate how far they'd come. It seemed like just yesterday that he'd taken the girl in.

A few years ago when he'd been stateside, Ace had managed to cash out big after a blackjack win streak. When he'd left the casino, he only made it two blocks down the street before someone bumped into him and Ace was very aware of the weight of his wallet disappearing from his pocket while he struggled to right himself.

The thief had run off in a blur of red hair and sneakers pounding on pavement. After feebly trying to chase after them, Ace had stayed in the area and waited, and only a few hours later the pickpocket—a teenage girl—returned to the scene of the crime. She was clearly tailing a woman in a fur jacket and designer purse, but even across the street Ace could see that both the fur and bag were obvious fakes.

Amateur mistakes, really.

This time, Ace had familiarized himself with the surroundings beforehand and even as the girl spotted him and took off in a sprint, he eventually managed to corner her in an alleyway.

And after some angry screaming from the girl and a kick to Ace's shin, they'd ended up in a 24/7 shoddy diner with Ace buying her a meal in exchange for her story.

Meg had been homeless for months after her mother passed away from cancer. At only seventeen and with no close relatives, she'd been forced out on the streets and struggling to survive; it was only her sharp reflexes and years as a track star that kept her afloat by doing petty crimes.

And maybe it was the situation that was eerily similar to Ace's own childhood, or the fire he could see in her eyes, but Ace had only smiled before critiquing her pickpocketing technique and asking if she'd ever thought about being a con artist.

That was how Ace ended up taking Meg under his wing and teaching her everything he knew. With his experience and her quick feet, they made a surprisingly good team and had traveled across the States stealing and scamming much more efficiently than Ace usually managed on his own.

Having another person in on his schemes made a big difference. Meg could do anything from pretending to join Ace's poker table as a stranger to emptying someone's purse while Ace was doing magic tricks as a street performer. Meg had only been caught once by the police, and she'd been so convincing at sniffling pathetically and claiming she was only fifteen that the officer had taken pity and simply called her father—a.k.a. Ace's burner phone—instead of taking her down to the station.

But easy money or not, Ace hadn't expected their arrangement to last long. A few months later when Meg turned eighteen, she'd already earned enough to start her life anew—yet when Ace asked where she was planning to settle down, he only received a look of pure betrayal. And then there was screaming and crying and Meg accusing him of abandoning her, just like her dad and everyone else.

Ace had never wanted children, but as he dared to hug Meg for the first time and she merely clutched at his shirt and sobbed in his arms, he decided he'd do his best to be there for her the way nobody had been for him.

That was four years ago and Meg was still here, so he must have been doing something right.

Ace knew that their friendship was unorthodox. A middle-aged man and grumpy young woman who were visibly not related often garnered suspicious looks, especially whenever they went out to eat in a proper restaurant or money was tight enough that they had to share a twin instead of booking separate motel rooms.

Which was ironic, because it was Ace who hated sharing a room with Meg. She took ages in the shower, always sat on Ace's bed to eat and got crumbs all over the sheets, and stayed up way too late watching crappy late-night TV when Ace was trying to get his beauty sleep. It was like she knew exactly how to annoy him and did it with a smile every chance she could.

He tried not to show how proud he was of her mischievous streak.

Ace chuckled to himself. He couldn't have asked for a better partner-in-crime and he was glad they'd had enough extra cash to make the trip to Germany. Even if she tried to play it cool, Meg was clearly excited about seeing both the country and her favorite musician.

The fact that this happened to be one of Europe's biggest festivals, with countless drunk, rich patrons for easy pickings and dense crowds to quickly disappear into was simply a bonus.

Ace took a steadying breath and straightened his shirt—patterned with tiny card suits that hopefully nobody would notice weren’t traditional Oktoberfest checkers—and slipped on a familiar confident persona. As long as he pretended that he belonged here, everyone else would believe it too.

With a carefree smile and a spring in his step, Ace made his way to the beer tent to people-watch for a worthwhile target.

#dbd fanfic #ace visconti #meg thomas #dbd #dweetwrites #dead by daylight #yes ace reluctantly adopting younger survs is my favorite trope #i loved writing his and meg's banter #also i hope it was obvious that this was inspired by the oktoberfest skins #i thought 'hmm how can i get felix meg and kate all be at oktoberfest at the same time'#and this was what i came up with #gee i wonder which rich german patron ace will try to scam???

11 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 1 year

Text

[Riconti] Clairvoyance

This one's a very self-indulgent, Ace-centric fic I've been wanting to write for a while and I hope you like it! Thank you @vampirtulpe for helping with the German parts! The translations into English are at the end of this post. Rated T | 3.9k words | ao3 link

Ace slowly blinked awake to the morning sun illuminating the room.

He groaned and rolled onto his side, fully intending to bury his face into the pillow and snooze the day away until someone forcibly dragged him out of bed.

Or at least that was the plan before Ace saw the man next to him, and sleep suddenly became a much lower priority.

Ace curled more comfortably under the fluffy blanket and shamelessly admired Felix’s profile against the soft rays of the sun. Felix was sitting with his back against the headboard and wearing his favorite pajamas, a light blue silk that had faded from years of use. Reading glasses were perched on his nose and his attention was occupied by a book in his hands. Graying strands of hair fell in his face and only highlighted the fact that he’d aged gracefully, with small wrinkles around his eyes and a quiet confidence about him while he relaxed in the stillness of a lazy morning.

“Are you going to simply stare the entire day?” Felix asked. He was still focused on his book but a smile tugged on his lips.

Ace chuckled, his voice rough with sleep. “Just enjoying the view, gorgeous.”

Felix huffed and closed the book, putting both it and his glasses on the nightstand before facing Ace.

“And here I thought the compliments would get fewer with age,” Felix teased.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Ace said. “In a couple years I’m gonna be describing your pretty face with big words like ethereal and aristocratic.”

Felix rolled his eyes and crawled back under the covers. He reached over to brush some of Ace’s bed head out of his eyes, the gold band on his finger glinting in the sunlight as he did so.

“You're impossible,” Felix said.

Ace snaked his hand out from under the blanket, clasping Felix's and bringing it to his lips. “Only for you.”

Felix thumbed at the matching ring on Ace's finger with a soft smile. Ace's heart throbbed with emotion as he relished in the familiar comfort of waking up next to the man he loved.

He leaned closer, fully intent on getting in some morning kisses before starting their day…

Before the door burst open and they both startled apart.

There was the pitter-patter of tiny feet on the hardwood floor before a blur of pink pajamas and blonde hair slung itself onto the foot of the bed.

“Papaa!” Klara whined, intruding on their moment.

“Klara,” Felix chastised, though his eyes were fond. “Hab ich dir nicht schon tausend Mal gesagt, dass du klopfen sollst?”

"Aber es ist schon neun Uhr!" Klara said, bouncing on the soft mattress. “Time to feed fish!”

Felix glanced at the clock. “So it is.” He shot Ace a quick smile in apology before lifting the covers to get up.

“Tell you what,” Ace said, quickly halting Felix with a hand on his shoulder. “Why don't I handle it this time?”

Felix paused. “Really?”

“What do you say, squirt?” Ace asked Klara. "Willste ein paar Fette Karpfen mit mir füttern?"

“Ja!” Klara laughed, her blue eyes sparkling.

“The carps aren’t fat,” Felix grumbled.

“Oh, of course not, the roundness is just water weight,” Ace teased. “Leonardo is actually so malnourished that he just had to eat all the decorative algae you put in.”

“And the flowers!” Klara excitedly added. “He eats everything.”

“And if we're not quick, he'll eat you too!” Ace grinned and reached over to tickle Klara, who squealed before jumping out of bed with a giggle.

“Na los!” she said, already running out into the hallway.

“Be right there!” Ace hollered, then turned to Felix. “I just need to finish what I started here, first.”

Felix leaned back against the headboard with a lazy smile. “Then take what you need.”

Ace placed a hand on Felix’s chest over the soft silk and leaned in for an even softer kiss.

Felix hummed into it, a low and satisfied sound that made affection surge through Ace’s body, even after all these years. Felix’s morning stubble rasped against Ace's beard as they kissed languidly, and though Felix’s lips were a little dry from sleep, they were still so warm and achingly familiar against Ace’s own.

Ace slowly pulled away with what was probably a stupidly smitten smile on his face. “Now I can focus on the fish,” Ace said.

“Hmm,” Felix said. “Maybe this time you won't fall into the koi pond.”

“Okay, smartass, that was one time at at least fifty percent your fault—”

“Ace! Hurry or Leonardo will eat us!” Klara’s high pitched shouting came from downstairs.

Ace chuckled and grabbed his morning robe as he got out of bed. “On my way!”

He shot Felix one last wink, opened the bedroom door, and—

Ace bolted upright with a gasp.

He was greeted by the familiar silence of the dark forest surrounding the campfire. Only a fire barrel crackled nearby, illuminating Ace's own nook in the Entity's realm; a trunk overflowing with looted items, patterned shirts hanging from a tree branch in a makeshift clothes rack, and an upside-down wooden crate that served as the poker table.

Ace breathed out and tried to reorient himself to reality. It was just a dream—just a very, very vivid dream.

Which was strange because none of them really dreamed anymore, save for the occasional nightmare after a trial or flashback of their past lives. Yui had once said that it felt like the Entity prodding and poking around in their heads while they slept. Predictably, most of them stayed wide awake for quite some time after that.

But a domestic morning in bed with Felix sure as hell wasn't a trial nightmare or any memory from Ace's past. If anything, it felt like a glimpse into the future—as absurd as that seemed.

Ace glanced at Felix who was still sound asleep next to him, only on a moth-eaten thin mattress instead of a cushy bed. The resemblance to the Felix in his dream was uncanny, even if that Felix had clearly been older, with his glasses and wrinkles and calm confidence.

This was still a relatively new development between them. Somewhere along the years of Ace’s friendship with the aloof architect, facades had crumbled and they'd sought comfort in each other from the horrors of the realm, eventually even falling into bed together.

They hadn't really talked about what it all meant—not that there was any need to. To Ace, it had been obvious that this was just a way to pass the time and make their existence here a little less guts and gore, a little more laughs and orgasms. With Felix's obligations in the real world and Ace's track record of bolting at the first sign of trouble, he knew full well that this wouldn’t last—not in the realm, and certainly not in the event that they managed to escape.

So why couldn’t he get the damn dream out of his head?

It wasn’t like the idea of settling down was a novel one. Ace had actually tried to play house before, but because he was…well, himself, the attempts had always ended in disaster. It kind of took the romance out of a relationship when a surprise knock on his then-girlfriend’s door turned out to be a loan shark looking for Ace and not the flower delivery she’d been promised for their anniversary. It certainly wasn’t made better by the fact that Ace had spent the day gambling away in some dingy casino because he'd forgotten said anniversary. Again.

Ace snorted. If there was some sort of sliding scale for Relationship Material™, he was probably in the negative thousands just like his bank account. “You’re so charming,” and, “Nobody makes me laugh like you," only went so far when it came with a side of, “Why are the police here?” and, “You told me the money was for your grandmother’s funeral!” Not even Ace's silver tongue had managed to get him out of that one.

Except it would never come to that with Felix, Ace realized. Because after all these years trapped in hell together, Felix knew exactly how he operated. He knew Ace’s need for thrill-seeking and more often than not getting spectacularly killed for his stupid ideas, knew that Ace occasionally let his entire team die on hook because he found a shiny thing in a chest, and knew that Ace only joked and deflected when pushed about difficult topics.

But even knowing all that, Felix had still chosen to befriend Ace and invite him into his bed. He’d also held Ace's hand while Ace's guts spilled out of his stomach and they both knew he wasn't making it out of the trial. He'd listened without judgment to Ace's manic tales of running from the law, debts, and failed relationships alike. He'd stayed up late nights watching the campfire with Ace when neither of them could sleep, when Ace barely had the courage to whisper, “I don't know how much longer I can keep smiling for them,” while they watched over their sleeping friends.

Ace huffed a silent laugh and ran a hand through his hair. If Felix ever even considered keeping Ace around for more than a fling, Ace would seriously have to question the man's sanity.

…Unless Felix saw something there that Ace didn’t?

Like in the dream, Ace thought, then promptly huffed an irritated sigh. The stupid dream just kept coming back, like a particularly persistent boomerang Ace couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried to throw it away.

Still, Ace had to admit that the dream had been nothing like the short-lived, disastrous romances that made up the majority of his life. On the contrary, dream-Ace and dream-Felix had clearly been together for years, with nothing pointing to Ace having gambled away all their shared assets or Felix spending every day regretting whatever lapse in judgment that had made him marry Ace in the first place.

In the dream, they’d been happy. Ace, and Felix, and the little girl who looked so much like Felix, smiling at Ace and acting like he was…

Like he was family.

Ace swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. He’d only seen a glimpse of the life that wasn’t his, but—stupidly, impossibly—he missed it. He missed the simple intimacy of waking up together, the girl’s excited laughter, and the easy comfort between him and Felix that spoke of a bond deeper than anything Ace had experienced before.

There were some oddities in the dream, though, like fish-feeding as a family activity and the German language Ace didn’t speak a word of yet had somehow perfectly understood in the dream. Dream-Ace had even gone through grammar rules in his head and been very aware of his accent when he spoke, like he’d only been learning for a few years.

Perhaps ever since escaping the Entity and settling down in Germany.

Shit, what if it wasn’t just a dream? God knows stranger things had happened in the Entity’s realm than Ace’s sorry ass briefly harnessing some of Mikaela’s fortune telling mojo. After all, being chased by literal ghosts and demons and dying and being resurrected on the daily did have a tendency to make even skeptics like Ace more open to the possibility of the supernatural. Funny how that worked.

He looked at the sleeping Felix. Could it really be? Would they actually escape? Would Felix get to return home and meet his kid?

And where the hell did Ace come into that picture?

By all accounts, Felix and his girlfriend should just continue where they left off. Even if they didn't and Felix invited him to stay, Ace wasn't sure he'd accept; not if he'd just regained his freedom and the whole world was his oyster. Sure, Felix was a catch, but Ace was just some random con man he'd picked up in hell. The picket fence lifestyle was just not something he was capable of.

…Right?

Deep in his thoughts, Ace barely noticed Felix stirring. He did however notice when Felix startled as soon as he opened his eyes.

“Scheiße, you scared me,” Felix said before relaxing back against the mattress.

Ace cleared his throat and looked away, realizing he’d been looming over Felix and staring creepily at him sleeping. “Sorry,” he offered.

"It's alright," Felix said. He propped himself up on his elbows, thankfully seeming content to ignore Ace's floundering.

Now that Felix was awake and they were back to the regularly scheduled programming of Ace making an idiot of himself, whatever spell of ridiculousness that had fallen over Ace was fast disappearing. Because, really, dream-visions about Ace as a future househusband? The others would probably laugh for days if he told them.

"Trouble sleeping again?” Felix asked.

“Something like that,” Ace said.

He racked his brain for a suitable joke or conversation starter, but his thoughts still seemed to be stuck in idyllic suburban family-mode. Maybe he should prod Felix a little to put the wishful thinking to rest once and for all.

“Say… did you have any pets back home?” Ace asked.

Felix tilted his head. “Hm? Why do you ask?”

“Just trying to make conversation,” Ace lied and forced a fake smile. “Maybe it'll be easier to go back to sleep if we focus on something else.”

“Alright,” Felix relented. He rolled over onto his side to face Ace. “But to answer your question, no. I'm not really a pet person.”

“How come?”

“I've always been much too busy to care for them," Felix explained. "And I never quite got the appeal. I don't really get attached to animals that way."

Ace nodded and swallowed down the sudden feeling that was definitely not disappointment. “That makes sense," he said.

And that, he supposed, was the nail in the coffin when it came to stupid dreams about marriage and family and pet carps. In retrospect, he didn’t know which thought was more absurd: that Ace had inexplicably gained magical future-telling abilities, or that Felix was secretly a…fish dad, or whatever.

“But I did enjoy the koi pond,” Felix added casually.

Ace’s head snapped back up. “What?”

“A koi pond,” Felix repeated. “My parents built a pond in the manor's garden and I liked looking at the fish ever since I was a child. After my father’s disappearance, it only felt natural to take over caring for the koi.” He smiled. “They're truly beautiful creatures. Some of them are even older than me, by now.”

Ace’s thoughts were still reeling. “You…you have koi fish?” he questioned.

Felix smiled sheepishly. “Yes, it's…I don't usually tell people about it. It's a little unconventional, I know.”

Yeah, well, unconventional seemed to be the theme of the day, Ace thought somewhat hysterically.

“What about you?” Felix asked while Ace was busy trying not to freak out. “Did you have any pets?”

“Huh?” Ace said, before remembering that Felix thought they were just getting to know each other better. “No, I—uh, I fed some stray cats when I was a kid, but we couldn't really afford a pet and then I was always on the move after that.”

Something in Felix’s expression softened, making him resemble dream-Felix even more.

“I'm sorry,” Felix said.

“It's nothing. But, those fish of yours,” Ace eagerly continued. “Did you name them?”

“Ah.” Felix smiled bashfully. “My parents named most of them—Siegfried, Barbara and Agnes.”

Ace deflated a little from disappointment-slash-relief and barely even acknowledged the old-fashioned and… frankly, pretty awful names.

“But, I, ehm,” Felix continued. “At ten, I got my own koi and…I said it was after Da Vinci, but I really liked the—the ninja turtle cartoon at the time, and, well…”

Ace's eyes went wide. “Leonardo?”

Felix chuckled. “Yes.”

Okay. Okay, no need to panic: Ace had just somehow guessed that Felix had fish back home and one of their names. So what? There were several, rational explanations for that; explanations that didn’t involve the paranormal or any wedding rings in his future.

Felix could have told him about the fish before and they both forgot. Ace could have heard about it from Élodie. Maybe the Entity dug around in Felix's memories and somehow planted the idea in Ace's head?

“Ace?” Felix said, his smile replaced with a frown. “You look pale.”

“Yeah, I…” Ace stammered. “Maybe I should lie down a bit.”

Ace lowered himself onto the mattress with trembling arms. Felix, bless him, reached over and touched his forehead to feel Ace’s temperature.

“I'm not sick, I promise," Ace said, plastering a grin on his face. “Just a little shell-shocked from this dream I had.”

…And having visions of the future and going on a massive self-discovery journey. In the span of thirty minutes or so. He had the right to be a little shaken, damnit.

Felix hesitated, then asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, Ace wanted to say, please tell me I'm not going crazy.

“Not really,” Ace lied.

Felix nodded, not pushing it. Something warm and awfully similar to the feeling in the dream spread through Ace’s chest and for a moment, he wanted to take it back and tell Felix everything—

But, god, Ace couldn't do that to him. Even if Felix would probably find the idea of them growing old together suitably absurd and they could share a laugh over it, Ace couldn't give him false hope that they'd escape. That Felix would get to see his kid grow up.

“Do you know if your kid is a boy or a girl?” Ace asked.

Felix flinched, clearly caught off guard by the question—a normal reaction to someone rudely asking about one of his biggest traumas, really—so Ace quickly backpedaled.

“Sorry, we don't have to talk about it,” Ace rushed to add.

"No, it's…" Felix hesitated. "I didn't think you cared," he admitted.

Ace bit his lip to stop himself from blurting out that before today, he hadn't spared the topic much thought. Felix's real life was out there, with his career and mansion and nuclear family, too pure for someone like Ace to stain with the shitshow that had been his life.

"I have my moments, you know,'' Ace said with a smirk.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply…'' Felix sighed and shook his head. "It was still too early to determine the child's gender when—when I was taken," Felix said, his eyes downcast. "I always thought I wanted a boy, but when I realized it was actually happening…I knew I would love the child no matter what."

Felix looked sadly at the ground and Ace felt like an absolute asshole for poking at that wound.

Ace nudged Felix with his elbow. "You'd love the kid even if they came out looking like one of your carps, huh?" he teased.

Felix let out a surprised huff of laughter. "Especially then, I think."

Ace smiled at that and to his delight, Felix did too. It was a relief that despite the weird coincidence with the fish, Ace hadn't fortune told Felix's kid or whatever.

"We… actually had some names planned out," Felix said.

Ace hummed. "Yeah?"

"Janos, for a boy. I… insisted rather stubbornly." Felix chuckled.

Ace smiled, remembering all the times Felix had talked so fondly about his dad. "I don't blame you," he said. "And for a girl?"

"We had several options," Felix said. "Amelia, Cassandra, Matilda…"

Ace listened and amicably nodded along. None of those names were even remotely close to what his subconsciousness had come up with while he slept—which was to be expected.

“But then at the latest ultrasound, there was this nurse,” Felix said. “She was great. My girlfriend and I were bickering about names again during the procedure, and the nurse just laughed along, before saying we should name the child after her, and… well. It started as a joke but then it stuck.”

“That’s cute,” Ace said. “What was her name?”

Felix smiled, looking into the distance. “Klara.”

The air left Ace’s lungs in a rush and the world spun even though he was lying down. That one simple word was like a punch in the gut.

This went way beyond coincidence. Ace knew that the girl with the sparkling blue eyes and childish grin was out there waiting for her dad to come home. He knew that Felix would be a fantastic father and love her more than anything else in the world.

And he knew that, for some reason, Felix would allow Ace into that picture and trust him with the most important thing in his life.

“You're shivering,” Felix said. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah,” Ace reflexively lied.

If his stomach dropping and his entire worldview turning upside down counted as cold, then, yes, he was freezing.

"Come here," Felix said, gently grabbing Ace's shoulder.

Ace allowed Felix to pull him closer and drape a threadbare blanket over them. They settled with Ace's back against Felix's chest, the German's larger frame enveloping Ace's still-trembling body as Felix wrapped an arm around him, and…

And it was actually really, really nice.

Ace didn't know whether it was the dream awakening these feelings or if he'd just never admitted it to himself before, but he'd never felt as safe as he did right here. Felix never smothered him with expectations or asked for anything Ace wasn't willing to give. Just as Felix could drop his play-act around Ace and freely gush about his beloved carps or open up about the fucked-up cult shit that went down in the Imperiatti, Ace didn't have to censor the dark parts of his past or pretend that he'd been anything but a lying, scamming addict for most of his life.

And that kind of comfort, that level of trust? Ace was an absolute idiot for not appreciating it earlier.

It was funny how not that long ago, the idea of even being held by Felix like this—gently, just because Felix cared—would have sent Ace running for the hills. But now, it almost felt like coming home.

"Is this alright?" Felix murmured against Ace's neck.

Ace had stopped shivering ages ago and he had no illusions that Felix hadn't seen through his lie about being cold. Ace allowed himself to relax into the embrace, knowing that he didn't need to bother with excuses.

Ace placed his hand over Felix's where it rested on his chest. "This is perfect," Ace said.

Felix let out a soft hum. Before long, his body went slack with sleep, still curled protectively around Ace's.

But Ace stayed wide awake, a new determination filling him. Felix had to go home—to his little girl, to his family home, and to his silly fish. Even if things turned out differently than in his vision and Ace wouldn't be in the picture when the time came, he'd do his damndest to fight for the future he knew they could have.

The hope that had been slowly dwindling with every failed trial and each passing year spent trapped in this hell was now returning to Ace full force.

Because they were getting out of here. And they were doing it together.

═════════════ ♢ ═════════════

Translations: Hab ich dir nicht schon tausend Mal gesagt, dass du klopfen sollst? - Haven’t I told you a thousand times to knock? Aber es ist schon neun Uhr - It’s almost nine o’clock Willste ein paar Fette Karpfen mit mir füttern? - Wanna feed some fat carps with me? Na los - Let’s go

#riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #dweetwrites #img credit: pexels

19 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 6 months

Text

[Riconti] Unravel

A soulmate AU because it's been like three years since I wrote one <3 Rated T | 3.3k words | ao3 link

At nine years old, Felix saw the red string around his finger for the first time.

His parents were in awe when he told them. Most people didn't have a soulmate, and his mother and father told him all about the ancient powers that still lingered in this world, the fate that bound two people together even across continents. Felix had only seen soulmates in cartoons, where the princess and prince would follow their red strings to eventually find each other and live happily ever after.

Felix's father said he must be very special to have been chosen as someone's soulmate.

Even though Felix was excited, he told no one but his parents. This was something that belonged to him: only he and his soulmate could see their string. And even when his classmates bullied him and he had no friends, Felix just needed to look at his hand to know that he wasn't alone. Even if all the other kids called him stupid and weird, there was someone out there who would be his friend.

Felix's parents said that his soulmate was like his very own princess and that he'd marry her one day, but Felix grimaced at that. Kissing was gross and he was never going to get married, but his mother only laughed and said he'd understand when he was older.

At fourteen, Felix made his first friend.

He was sitting alone on a bench while the other kids played football or gossiped in groups further away. All of their parents were having some sort of secret meeting in the old mansion on Dyer Island and Felix hated being left out, because none of the other kids ever talked to him.

At least not until Élodie.

They'd never even met before, but that day Élodie walked right up to Felix moping in his bench, politely introduced herself, and then promptly dragged him along to explore the grounds of the estate.

Over the summer, other kids joined them—other outcasts who didn't fit in—and for the first time in his life, Felix finally had friends.

But Élodie was special. She understood Felix like nobody but his parents had ever done, and he felt like he could talk about anything with her.

She was the first person beside his parents he told about his soulmate.

Élodie's face lit up and she was happy, so happy for Felix that he couldn't quite understand it. She told him that her grandparents were soulmates and that they were perfect for each other, happily married for over fifty years and also each others' best friends.

Felix blushed and ducked his head and said that he couldn't see anyone wanting to marry him, but Élodie brushed him off. She was so certain that Felix's soulmate would want to be with him forever, because that was the whole point—it was a person picked just for him, because the universe knew that there was nobody who would love him more.

Felix ran his finger over the red string and smiled. "I hope I get to meet her one day."

Élodie went unusually quiet, but when Felix looked up she smiled again and said they should search the island for more secrets.

When Felix was seventeen, his father disappeared.

That entire autumn, Felix's days went by in a blur and his evenings were spent lying in his bed and staring up at the ceiling, listening to his mother crying herself to sleep and knowing there were nothing but nightmares waiting for him as soon as he closed his eyes.

His soulmate was the only reason Felix got through that dark time in his life.

Felix would toy with the red thread, twine it around his fingers, pull on it or just watch it: red, vibrant and always pointing west.

The routine was a comfort. His father had been taken from him and he felt so alone, but there was still someone out there for him. And that was worth pushing through for.

At twenty, Felix realized that his soulmate was traveling.

The string no longer pointed just west. Sometimes Felix would wake up and find it pointing southwest, or south, or even east. It usually didn't stay in one place too long, so it was apparent that his soulmate traveled a lot.

It became a routine for Felix to cross-check his soulmate's location during boring university lectures. He'd discreetly pull out a compass from his pencil case and look at the map he had stashed between his textbooks, seeing which direction the string pointed and what major cities were in its line.

New York. Madrid. Tokyo. London. Miami. Rio. Las Vegas. Sydney. They all got jotted down into the notebook that Felix carried with him almost everywhere, and he'd read about the cities later at home in his father's old encyclopedias.

It was fun to see what his soulmate was up to. Felix wondered what she did: maybe she was famous, or a few years older than him, with a job that required this much international travel.

Regardless, it was fun to learn about the world through his soulmate.

At twenty-seven, Felix had the possibility to start his own architect studio.

His former university classmate Lauren had brought up the idea. Felix knew they worked well together and they'd both been top of their class, but it was a huge risk. Neither of them had experience in anything but assisting roles in the studios they worked at, and trying to break into the competitive industry without a recognizable name or a big studio's backing was next to impossible.

But when Felix stood over his bathroom sink, gripping the edges with trembling fingers and knowing he wanted to do it but wasn't sure if he was brave enough…

That was when something tugged on his red string.

Felix jolted and held his hand up, staring at it in awe even if the sensation didn't repeat. He'd heard that sometimes soulmates felt each other's thoughts or emotions if the situation was important—as if fate knew that it was a key moment in their lives.

"You think I should, huh?" Felix said, smiling.

Ten minutes later, he called Lauren and accepted her offer.

When he was thirty-one, Felix flew to a business conference in San Francisco.

It was his first time in America and he hadn't gotten any sleep on the plane, too transfixed by watching the direction of his red string change the closer he got to his destination. When the string had pointed south and down at an angle, it had been in the direction of Los Angeles, and Felix chuckled as he imagined his soulmate equally confused that Felix was traveling so close to her for the first time.

After the conference was over, Felix considered taking a detour home to try and follow the string to his soulmate, since it would probably only be a few hour car ride.

Before he could make up his mind, a surge of sensation flooded him: laughter and euphoria that wasn’t his, the sight of flashing lights and a stack of poker chips. He was at a casino, except he couldn’t be, because he was still in his hotel room, but he looked down at cards he was apparently holding and felt victory—

And just as suddenly as it had appeared, the vision vanished and Felix was left shaking and disoriented. Apparently he'd been wrong about two things: his soulmate was currently in Vegas and not LA, and…

His soulmate was a man. Felix couldn't say how he knew that, but he felt it deep in his bones, like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

Felix boarded the first flight home and wore gloves the entire trip, not looking back once.

At thirty-four, Felix told his girlfriend that he might be bisexual.

She just smiled and hugged him, and then thanked him. Why she was so happy, Felix didn't know, because he was trembling and so afraid that something bad would happen as soon as he said it out loud.

Then his girlfriend gently clasped his hand and raised it, looking at Felix with a meaningful smile and a silent question in her eyes.

Is your soulmate a man?

Felix managed a small nod.

"But I don't want to—" he started.

"I know," she said. "This doesn't change anything. We're happy together."

Felix sighed in relief and hugged her close.

When Felix was thirty-five, he woke up one morning and everything felt wrong.

He checked his temperature and took some ibuprofen for the sensation that wasn't quite a headache, but more of a lack of something that had his body on edge and aching.

When he grasped his red string for comfort, his hand only grabbed air. Felix looked down, and—

His red string had gone gray and partially translucent.

Felix cried in his girlfriend's arms the entire morning.

At thirty-six, Felix felt hopeless.

He’d seen countless specialists and mediums and scoured the internet for any information about the soul bond fading. He'd even had his eyesight checked for colorblindness, but no, his red string was still gray and barely visible and the change had nothing to do with Felix's eyes.

On the plus side, all sources said that a soulmate's death makes the red string either cut off—leaving a dangling thread in its place—or disappear altogether. Which meant that Felix's soulmate was still alive.

But the string had pointed west the entire year at the exact same angle, instead of his soulmate's usual travels of every month or so. Thus, the most likely theory was that his soulmate was in a deep coma. Not dead, but fading from this world.

Felix would never meet him. Felix had squandered his one opportunity to meet him because of his own stupid self-doubts, and now his soulmate was dying without ever talking to Felix.

That was when Felix hit the bottle.

When Felix was thirty-nine, his ex-girlfriend called and said she was pregnant with his child.

His first reaction was to look at his hand: at the useless, barely-there gray line of disappointment instead of the bright red string of fate that would bring him to his soulmate.

Felix emptied all the liquor bottles in the sink and bought every baby book he could find, promising his ex he would participate in their lives to the extent that he was able to. Only a couple months had passed since the breakup and he didn't know how co-parenting would work, especially since she had moved back to Belgium to live with her parents.

But he had to try. Felix might have failed both his soulmate and his girlfriend, but he would not fail his child.

One month later, Felix traveled to Dyer Island for his newest project.

It was painful seeing the places he used to walk with his dad or play games with Élodie and the others. It had been over a decade since he’d even talked to any of the Pariahs—even longer since he’d last seen his mother.

Would Felix’s life ever be anything but disappointing those closest to him?

Felix was deep in thought and self-pity when a thick fog enveloped him. Wisps of darkness blocked out the sun and his surroundings and Felix would have screamed, would have ran, but…

His father was standing there, in the thickest part of the fog, beckoning Felix to follow him into the darkness.

Felix stood frozen. He wanted to believe this really was his father, but he wasn't stupid: he knew the ancient powers that lurked beneath this island and the tricks they could play on you.

Out of old habit, Felix glanced at his string for guidance—

And the formerly translucent and dead thread was red and solid again. And it didn't point west anymore: it pointed straight north and into the fog.

Without hesitation, Felix walked forward and into the darkness.

Felix knew pretty soon that he wasn't on Earth anymore. Or probably even on the same plane of existence.

There was an eerie forest and machines to be repaired. A specter flickering in and out of visibility and making Felix's heart beat frantically as he hid. Bone-curdling screams that occasionally echoed through the forest.

But Felix's string glowed red and bright and pointed to one of the large gates behind the decrepit shack, so Felix shoved his hands back into the machine he instinctively knew to repair and bolted out of the gate as soon as it opened.

Outside, there was nothing but fog.

Thick, gray fog that enveloped him completely, so much more oppressive than on the island, until it felt like Felix was standing in the middle of nothingness.

Normally, Felix would have panicked. He probably should have panicked, from the fog and the screams and his father and everything before it. But instead, he followed the red string that pointed straight ahead, guiding him through the darkness. Guiding him to his soulmate.

Because Felix's soulmate wasn’t dead or in a coma. He'd been taken by the fog and was stuck here, a dimension away. The bond between them had faded but even with universes between them, it hadn't broken.

Felix's soulmate was here, and millennia ago it had been decided by fate that they would meet right here, right now.

When Felix saw a warm glow in the fog and heard distant laughter, his red string was shining vibrantly and practically pulsating with light.

He stepped into a small campsite around a fire that instantly seemed like home, and the two dozen people seated around the fire sprang to action. Some were standing up to talk to Felix, others were waving from further away, and some were whispering amongst themselves.

Felix's eyes anxiously flitted over the group. It wasn't clear who his string pointed to since they were all seated so close to each other. Was he just supposed to know, or…?

"Hello!"

Felix jolted in surprise and turned to face a young man who had walked up to him.

"You're new here, right?" the man said, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling uncertainly. "You must be really confused, so let me explain…"

Felix tuned out the words as he regarded the man. He looked kind but nervous, a little like Felix himself, but Felix knew that this person wasn't for him.

"We call them trials—"

"Excuse me," Felix interrupted rudely, making the man stutter in surprise.

Felix didn't have time to worry about him. He turned back to the group at large; most were regarding him with a mixture of both intrigue and suspicion, while the rest had already gone back to whatever they'd been doing before Felix arrived.

On instinct, Felix grabbed his red string and circled it around his hand…

"What the hell is he doing?" he heard someone murmur, because to them it looked like he was grabbing air.

And then Felix pulled on the string as hard as he could.

"Ow!"

Every single person turned to look at a man seated cross-legged on the ground. He had playing cards scattered on his lap and was grimacing while rubbing his gloved hand.

Him, something in Felix's soul sang, even though he couldn't see much of the man’s face with the sunglasses and baseball cap he was wearing. It's him.

"You alright, dude?" a girl in a beanie asked Felix's soulmate, placing her own cards on the ground and frowning at him.

"Peachy." The man grinned and Felix's heart skipped a beat. He watched as his soulmate tugged on his glove, and—

A bright red glow sprang from his bare hand, bathing the man's face in a reddish hue. The string pulled taut between them, starting from each of their fingers and meeting in the middle, drawing a clear line between them.

Felix could barely breathe.

His soulmate slowly took off his sunglasses, staring down at his hand and then following the thread up to Felix's with his gaze.

Wide brown eyes blinked twice, thrice.

"Holy shit."

Three months later—or what Adam and Claudette had calculated to be three months in Earth time—a familiar face walked up to the campfire.

Felix almost dropped the toolbox he was stocking as he recognized her.

"Élodie!?"

She turned to look at him, and despite the fights and hurt and a decade of avoiding each other, she smiled.

"Felix!"

Felix didn't know how they started hugging and he didn't care. He only squeezed Élodie tight and murmured, "Not the kind of adventure you're used to, huh?" into her curly hair, making her laugh wetly.

And when they pulled apart and Élodie started asking him how and why, Felix tugged on his red string out of habit.

Élodie's eyes went wide. "Is that…?"

"Oye, I was napping!" a disgruntled complaint came from the fire, and then Felix's hand twitched as the other end of the string was yanked in retaliation.

Felix smiled at Élodie and ducked his head; feeling every bit the self-conscious yet hopeful fourteen-year old again.

"He's usually more polite," Felix mumbled.

Soon enough, Felix heard footsteps and felt a familiar body draping itself against his side.

"You called, your highness?" Ace said, his voice laced with both sleep and humor as he rested his head on Felix's shoulder.

"I wanted you to meet—" Felix started.

"Oh!" Ace only then seemed to notice Élodie, immediately pushing away from Felix enough to extend his hand. "Ciao, bella! Ace Visconti, at your service." He winked.

Felix rolled his eyes.

Élodie, however, only grinned brightly as she returned the handshake. "Élodie Rakoto. You're Felix's soulmate."

"Nooo, what makes you say that?" Ace smirked and waved his left hand around, making Felix's flop mid-air as the string was tugged taut.

"Very funny," Felix deadpanned even as Élodie laughed.

"Wait—hold on," Ace said, thankfully lowering his hand. "You said Èlodie?" He glanced at Felix in question. "Like the Pariahs…?"

"Yup!" Élodie said. "Childhood friend of Felix's." She looked at each of them in turn, then smiled mischievously. "And for the record, I knew twenty-five years ago."

Ace tilted his head while Felix floundered for a response.

That was why Élodie had been so strange that one time. Felix had talked about meeting his female soulmate, and somehow, Élodie had known that his soulmate might be a man.

"Well, while Felix here is busy catching flies…" Ace patted Felix's chest. "Do you want a tour of the place? Full disclosure, I expect embarrassing childhood stories about him in return." Ace offered his elbow to Élodie.

Élodie snorted and linked her arm with Ace's. "Ah, mon cher, you're even better than I thought you would be."

Felix watched dumbly as his soulmate walked off gossiping with the best friend he had ever had, and somehow, he knew that this was right where he was supposed to be.

His child and their mother would inherit all his assets in the real world after he was proclaimed missing. They'd be able to live in Belgium full-time and have all the support from his ex's family. Felix's mother would finally get to sell the Richter manor, and Lauren would be able to take their studio in a direction that fully reflected her own style.

And even if Felix’s father was truly gone, he’d want nothing but for Felix to be happy.

Laughter pulled Felix out of his thoughts and he saw Ace and Élodie chatting with Kate and Jeff, Kate giggling into her hand and looking at Felix due to something Élodie said.

Felix only smiled to himself before he walked over to join them. It didn’t matter what his life had been before this or how many mistakes he’d made.

These people were his family now, and he knew he wouldn’t let them down.

#riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

8 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 7 months

Text

[Riconti] The Long Con (part 4/6)

Aka the "how far can I push the T rating?" chapter. Rated T | 3.9k words | ao3 link [previous] [next]

When the day started rolling over into the evening, Ace was still chatting with Felix.

They'd moved out of the big tent a couple hours ago. It had gotten pretty crowded as the festival filled up with locals just getting off work, and Felix admitted he struggled with the noise when the chatter got louder and the drinking songs started in earnest. He'd also seemed to have accepted the fact that Lauren and her husband were not, in fact, planning on coming back.

That woman really was the world's best wingman.

They'd stopped by a few of the smaller breweries before Felix led them to an honest to god wine tent that had Ace nearly crying from joy. Ace had never tasted Bavarian wine before and he'd savored his two glasses while Felix downed at least twice that amount at a somewhat alarming pace.

They were currently exploring the rest of the festival at a leisurely pace, walking and talking and enjoying the relative quiet of the outdoor areas compared to the crowded tents.

And the effects of the alcohol were clearly starting to show on Felix.

"Anyway," Ace said, continuing his latest story, "she completely drank me under the table, and—"

“Oh!” Felix exclaimed, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the street.

Ace followed suit, turning on his heel and looking at Felix in question. But rather than pointing out another business associate he wanted to avoid or a beer he wanted to try, Felix unceremoniously reached out and grabbed Ace's hand.

Ace's eyebrows rose in surprise even as a smile spread across his face. Hand-holding wasn't something he'd expected Felix to initiate, but it was a very welcome surprise nonetheless.

…Except Felix proceeded to reach for Ace's elbow with his other hand, tugging down the still rolled up sleeve of his shirt and then just…stared at it. Confused, Ace simply stood there and let him.

“These are card suits?” Felix finally asked, smiling and seeming strangely happy about the discovery. “I only noticed now.”

“Oh, yeah!” Ace said. “I like sneaking aces into my outfits sometimes. Meg thinks it’s the most unfunny thing ever.”

Felix looked up to meet his eyes, still smiling, and then seemed to realize how intimate their position was and dropped Ace’s hand like burned. “Ah, sorry, I—”

“Oh, no, I’m just glad someone appreciates the look,” Ace hurried to defuse. “Especially after spending the entire morning getting sassed for my fashion choices.”

“Why? You’re very good-looking," Felix said, then choked and floundered, "I meant, ähm—your outfit. It looks good. On you."

Felix's face was steadily flushing red, yet his eyes very obviously flicked down to the open buttons of Ace’s shirt (which Ace may or may not have purposefully popped more of as the day progressed).

“Why, thank you," Ace said, stepping closer with a sly smile. He reached up to straighten Felix's pocket square. “I think your 'outfit' is really handsome, too.”

Ace looked up to meet Felix's eye, hands still lingering on his chest and feeling the rapid beating of his heart even through the layers of clothing. Felix was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and his blue eyes looked almost black in the fading sunlight.

Felix swallowed. "Would…do you want to…?"

"Hmm?" Ace tilted his head, giving his best bedroom eyes.

"...Try some Bratwurst?" Felix finished.

Ace blinked. He had a few seconds to wonder whether that was some sort of innuendo until Felix's gaze focused on something over Ace's shoulder.

"There's a booth right there and I'm getting hungry," Felix explained, eyes still on the supposed wiener shop.

Ace forced a smile and stepped back. "Sure thing."

—

Felix insisted on paying and Ace had to admit that it was pretty nice to have a snack after the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed on a near-empty stomach.

Unfortunately, the greasy sausages seemed to awaken Felix's appetite for food rather than Argentinian con men. And because Felix had a foot on Ace in height and probably twenty pounds in muscle, he not only drank a lot, but also ate a lot.

There were fries. Candied apples. More sausage. The chocolate bananas Ace had teased Meg about earlier.

And Ace kept helplessly trailing after a half-drunk Felix, like a lost puppy hoping to go home with the nice human once the day was over.

But the game wasn't lost yet. Felix kept smiling and talking to Ace as they ate and walked around, treating him to anything he wanted—which wasn't much, because Ace was still hoping to get lucky tonight and having massive heartburn from the greasy festival foods would put a real downer on that.

Felix insisted on gifting Ace one of the gingerbread hearts he'd seen people around the festival wear as a necklace. And even if it just said "Greetings from Oktoberfest" rather than the "I love you" ones that were also available, Ace took it as a good sign.

They'd just made their way to stand in line at yet another food stall—pretzels or something, Ace didn't really care—with Ace tactfully trying to hint that it was getting late and Felix staring at his gingerbread necklace like he was contemplating eating that too.

"Felix! Ace!"

At the sound of their names being called, Ace whipped around and saw Daniel and Lauren walking over from one of the nearby tents.

Well; Daniel was walking and a giggling Lauren was being half-dragged after him.

"Oh, hey guys!" Ace greeted them.

Felix said nothing, but out of the corner of his eye, Ace saw him narrowing his eyes at his friends.

Thankfully, Daniel didn't seem bothered. "I see you're getting into the Bavarian spirit," he said, glancing at Ace's necklace.

"Ha! You could say that." Ace grinned. "Someone really wanted to buy—"

"Hey, Felix!" Lauren suddenly exclaimed.

Before anyone got a word in, Lauren stumbled forward and practically tackled Felix. He lost his balance and bumped into Ace—who briefly worried he was going to get flattened into a pancake if they fell—before managing to right himself.

"Lauren!" Felix hissed, grabbing her by the shoulders. "What the fuck?" he demanded in German.

"Just kiss him already!" Lauren slurred. "I saw you chickening out earlier."

"Are you spying on us!?" Felix snapped, the tips of his ears red from embarrassment.

"Schatzi, I think it's time to go home," Daniel said, gently dislodging Lauren from Felix. He looked at Felix and Ace in turn. "I'm so sorry, we really should be going. It was nice to meet you, Ace."

"Very nice," Lauren agreed with a lopsided grin. "See you next time."

"Oh, uh…" Ace faltered, knowing that there wouldn't be a next time. "It was nice meeting you both too. Get home safe."

Felix was glaring at the couple even more now. "Goodnight," he spat.

With that, Daniel and Lauren weaved into the crowd, leaving Felix and Ace standing awkwardly in silence. They weren't even in line for the food anymore, but Felix didn't seem to care; maybe being tackled by a drunk German woman was what he needed to get rid of the munchies.

"So…" Ace spoke up. He knew an opening when he saw one. "I'll admit my German skills are nonexistent, but I'm pretty sure I know what 'Küss' means."

"I, ehm," Felix stammered. "She's… I'm sorry, she gets like this when we're drinking together," he spoke, the words rushed. "She thinks I've been single for too long, but with Klara, it's—it's not easy, and… Sheiße, I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

Felix closed his eyes and huffed a dejected sigh: like he'd already prepared himself for rejection before Ace even got a chance to respond.

So it was only natural for Ace to lay his hand on Felix's bicep and gently squeeze—a gesture that looked innocent enough where any bystanders were concerned, but packed a wholly different meaning with the conversation they were having.

And based on the wide-eyed look of surprise Ace received, Felix knew that too.

"Don't be sorry," Ace said. "I know what it's like: a middle-aged widower isn't exactly dropping any panties. Or boxers." Ace grinned wryly.

Felix's eyes found Ace's and he swallowed. "I wouldn't say that."

"Oh?" Ace's smile widened. "Well, for the record, I happen to find flustered single dads very attractive."

He stepped closer, his chest touching Felix's arm, but Felix immediately tensed.

"I—" Felix said. "It's just… I have Klara, and I don't… I can't—"

"Hey, it's okay. Your little girl comes first, that's a given," Ace said. "I've got my obligations too, and we're leaving the county in a few days anyway."

Felix nodded stiffly, though Ace could see his posture deflating in disappointment. Ace only had one more trick up his sleeve and he could only hope he was still smooth enough to pull it off.

"But…'' Ace stood up on his toes and leaned in, until he could murmur into Felix's ear. "What about just one night?"

A choked sound escaped Felix's throat. When Ace pulled back, Felix was looking at him with wide eyes and his entire face was flushed a pretty shade of pink.

Then, Felix's large hand wrapped around Ace's wrist. "Follow me."

Ace tried not to look too smug as Felix dragged him along. Clearly, he still had it.

—

Ace was pretty sure they weren't supposed to be here.

Felix had led him behind a souvenir booth and weaved between two of the smaller tents, miraculously finding a secluded corner that looked to house construction materials for building the festival.

Or something. Ace didn't exactly get a good look, because Felix immediately pulled him close and shoved a tongue in his mouth, and taking in the scenery was the last thing on Ace's mind.

The quaint little gingerbread necklace didn't survive the force of a pent-up passionate German. As soon as the heart cracked when Felix pressed close, Ace tossed the thing over his shoulder and wrapped his hands around Felix's neck to pull him down and deepen the kiss.

Felix didn't protest.

In fact, Felix kissed like he'd been holding this back for the entire six hours since they met. His hands ran over Ace's shoulders and down his back, occasionally gripping his hips and squeezing. His mouth was absolutely devouring Ace's, hot and a little sloppy from the alcohol, his tongue teasingly pushing against Ace's. And Ace…

Well, it had been a long time since Ace got any action and even longer since he'd been with anyone as attractive as Felix.

So he returned the kiss just as enthusiastically, already half-hard in his pants from simply caressing Felix's firm body and kissing his soft lips. When Ace's wandering hands found Felix's ass and squeezed, there was a loud moan and he couldn't tell which of them the sound came from.

To be fair, it was a very moan-worthy ass.

Felix didn't give him much time to grope, opting instead to step back and tug Ace with him, until his back bumped into a stack of crates or a wall or…fuck, it didn't matter, because Felix's large hands immediately dropped down to cup Ace's ass in revenge, pulling him close until they were pressed together from chest to hip.

Ace hummed his approval against Felix's lips and sneaked a hand under the hem of Felix's shirt to explore the soft skin of his back. Felix moaned from the touch and sucked on Ace's tongue, pressing a thigh between Ace's legs and—

Ace groaned and bowed his head, hiding his face in the crook of Felix's neck as the muscle of the thick thigh provided delicious friction for the throbbing in his groin. He grabbed a fistful of Felix's shirt and panted open-mouthed against the skin of Felix's neck, desperately clinging to his remaining self-control to not grind against that wonderful pressure.

Thankfully, Felix had mercy. He straightened his leg and moved his hands back to Ace's waist, drastically reducing the odds of the night ending much too soon.

Ace chucked breathlessly. "Sorry, it's been a while." He looked up at Felix, a snarky comment ready on his tongue…

And instantly forgot it as soon as he saw the state Felix was in.

Felix's hair was messy and his eyes half-lidded, his kiss-swollen lips panting as he caught his breath. Ace could feel a prominent bulge pressing against his hip and when he curiously shifted against it, Felix's head fell back and his pretty blue eyes slid shut, a soft moan escaping his lips.

Ace barely resisted the urge to drop to his knees on the spot.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Ace said instead, his voice still embarrassingly breathless.

Felix's eyes cracked open just enough to meet Ace's and a small smirk spread over his lips: like after several liters of alcohol, six hours of flirting, and literally having Ace's tongue down his throat, he finally felt confident enough to accept the compliment.

"I could say the same," Felix said, a teasing glint in his eye that made Ace's already high-strung libido do all sorts of funny things.

Then, Felix's expression softened and he straightened to his full height, making Ace have to tilt his head even more to look up at him. Felix's hand brushed against Ace’s temple, over the strands of silver that had grown in over the last few years, his eyes curiously following the movement.

"You're beautiful," Felix simply said.

The words were so earnest that Ace didn't know what to do with them. His mouth opened and closed and his cheeks felt warm with embarrassment and pride alike. Sure, Ace knew he looked good for his age, but you weren't supposed to call another man beautiful.

And yet, Felix didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest. He just kept gently stroking Ace's hair before dropping his gaze to meet Ace's.

Felix's expression could only be described as pure lust as he looked deep into Ace's eyes and murmured, "Come home with me."

The air left Ace's lungs in a shaky breath and his knees went a little weak even as arousal surged through every vein in his body. He couldn't remember when he last felt this shamelessly, undeniably wanted.

"Yeah," Ace immediately agreed.

And just as soon after, he mentally shook himself. This was still business first, pleasure second: Ace was supposed to be the one seducing Felix, not the other way around.

Ace cleared his throat and took half a step back. "I mean, yes, let me just text Meg first so she doesn't worry. Where did you say your place was?"

Felix leaned back against the wall with a small huff. "Coburg. West side," he rattled off, sounding impatient. "It's called the Richter Manor, it has a Wikipedia page if she wants to know the—hnng."

Felix groaned as Ace caressed down the front of his pants to soothe some of that impatience.

"Well, hello." Ace leered. "That's quite the package you've got for me."

Felix took a shuddering breath and ground against Ace's hand just a little, like he couldn't help himself. "Hurry. Please."

Pulling away from a flushed, aroused and begging Felix was much more difficult than it had any right to be, but somehow Ace managed the task. He quickly turned his back to Felix to resist the temptation and instead pulled out his phone.

Ace grimaced while he typed the message. Meg was going to be even angrier that he was putting all his eggs in one basket—he could practically hear her screaming, "Rule five, Ace, dammit!"—but hopefully Ace could grab her something shiny from Felix's supermansion as an apology.

When Ace was mid-message, there was…a noise. A very familiar, horrible noise of someone choking followed by a splatter of liquid on the ground.

Ace's heart sank into his stomach and he quickly turned back to Felix only to have his fears confirmed; Felix was hunched over by a corner, trembling and breathing heavily.

And throwing up. Repeatedly.

"Ugh," Felix groaned once he finished retching. Then he nearly tripped on his feet as he tried to steady himself, clumsily leaning against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut from the nausea.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"You okay?" Ace asked.

"Yes," Felix rasped, then groaned and covered his face with his hand. "No. Sorry. I feel…"

Felix promptly turned back to hurl some more, effectively ruining all of Ace's plans for the evening. Now he'd have nothing to show to Meg, and they wouldn't have enough money to survive—

Unless…

Felix's wallet peeked out from his back pocket and his expensive watch glimmered on his wrist where he was bracing a hand on the wall for support.

Time to improvise.

Ace quickly walked up to stand behind Felix and gently patted his back. "It's okay," Ace said, keeping his voice low and soothing. "That's it, get it all out."

He trailed his hand up and down Felix's bent back in a comforting gesture—and with his other hand, of course, slowly slid the wallet out of Felix's pocket.

"There you go," Ace crooned. He quickly tucked the wallet into his waistcoat's inner pocket. "You'll feel better once all the liquor's gone."

"I'm sorry," Felix managed hoarsely.

"Don't worry about it," Ace said, when what he really meant was “Thanks for at least not throwing up in my mouth earlier.” "Happens to the best of us," he added.

Felix was in no shape to reply; all the alcohol he'd consumed really seemed to have hit him full-force at once. He vomited up one more time before slowly righting himself and then just stood there, trembling and swaying on his feet.

"Come on," Ace said, grabbing Felix's wrist. "Let's get you into a cab."

He led Felix back to the festival area and navigated through the crowd until they reached an exit. Felix stumbled a few times but was thankfully steady enough on his feet that Ace didn't have to support six-feet-something of dead weight by himself.

He also didn't protest the hand-holding, which made it much easier for Ace to unclasp his watch while they walked. And when Ace picked one of the many vacant taxis by the festival exit and gently shoved Felix into it, the watch practically slid into Ace's pocket on its own.

Felix didn’t seem to notice at all; in fact he just groaned and immediately slumped against the leather seat of the car. His eyes were shut and he looked about ten seconds away from passing out.

The cab driver looked at Ace in question.

"Uh, Coburg," Ace told the driver, because apparently Felix wasn't going to. "West side, Richter manor."

Ace was half prepared to look up the damn Wikipedia page for directions. But to his relief, the driver merely nodded and motioned for him to close the door; Ace supposed the prospect of a two-hour cab fare to Coburg was enough to entice him.

Ace shut the door without a goodbye and watched the cab drive off. Hopefully Felix would make it home safely.

Ace groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "Rule one, idiot."

Oh, well. That was the last he'd ever see of Felix, so getting a little fond of the guy hardly mattered. Ace got what he came for.

He reached into his pocket and gripped the watch with a smirk. Time to show off his haul to Meg.

—

Back at their hostel, Meg had already lined up her meager spoils on her bed. She'd managed to yoink a couple phones and a smart watch, along with a purse which unfortunately only contained makeup and a few twenties.

They both knew it wasn't anywhere near enough to make up for the cost of the trip. Ace thanked his luck that he'd managed to pull off his own plan, or they'd be in serious trouble.

"I could have easily gotten more stuff," Meg explained, on the defensive before Ace had even said anything. "But the concert tent was filling up and I kinda had a good seat, so…"

"Oh, don't you worry!" Ace said, slapping her on the back with a grin. "It's about time you took a night off. And fortunately for you, you've got the legendary Ace Visconti to cover your back!"

Meg snorted. "You're in a suspiciously good mood. What happened to your boyfriend?"

"Things actually went really well," Ace said. "I completely charmed him and he dragged me behind the tents for a makeout session—"

Meg grimaced. "Eww."

"—And asked me to come home with him," Ace kept going, pretending not to hear her. "But then he unfortunately had a little…puking incident."

"As anyone would, after kissing you," Meg snarked.

"Of course, being the gentleman that I am, I got him into a cab and sent him home,'' Ace said. "Naturally, I also stole some of his personal belongings in the process—completely unnoticed, as always.”

At that, Meg visibly perked up. "For real?"

"Ta-da!" Ace exclaimed, presenting Meg with Felix's leather wallet and luxury watch.

"What the fuck? That's even worse than mine!" Meg said. "A basic-ass steel watch and a credit card that's gonna get shut down in an hour when he notices."

"Steel?" Ace scoffed, then pointed at the watch. "This, my dear Megan, is platinum."

Meg hummed thoughtfully. "If you say so.” She didn’t quite have an eye for appraisal yet, but she’d get there one day. “What's with the fugly keychain?"

"What? There's no—"

Ace looked at the items he was holding and to his horror, realized that Felix's keys were dangling from the wallet, apparently having been wedged inside it sometime during the evening.

And that wasn't a problem—Felix probably owned about twelve spare house keys like every other ridiculous rich person.

But attached to the keys was the stupid, ugly keychain that Felix's daughter made for him.

“Shit,” Ace said, his chest feeling heavy with dread.

Now, make no mistake: anybody who knew Ace would probably agree that he was a bad person. He lied, he stole, and he screwed over anyone without hesitation or remorse as long as it benefited him in some way.

Ace knew Felix would hate him in the morning. Hell, he probably already did, because he'd tried to pay for his cab and realized just what Ace had done. And Ace was okay with being hated—he had to be, because this was what he did to survive. The only way he knew how to survive.

But this? This was too far. Even if everything else on Ace's part had been a lie, the moment they'd shared talking about Meg and Klara had been real. He had no right taking something that had this much sentimental value.

Ace bit back what would have probably been a hysterical laugh. Out of all the immoral things he'd done in his life, it was a dumb, insignificant keychain that suddenly made him have a conscience.

But his mind was already made up. One way or another, Ace was going to return it to its owner.

Meg sighed long and loud. "You're gonna do something stupid again, aren't you?"

Ace smiled. "You know me too well."

#riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

7 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 6 months

Text

[Riconti] The Long Con (part 6/6)

A fluffy little epilogue to wrap things up 🧡 Rated G | 1.5k words | ao3 link [previous]

Two years later…

“Where is it!?” Meg’s voice echoed from upstairs.

“Weiß ich nicht!” Klara’s higher pitch answered.

“Weißt es! You always borrow it for the tablet!”

“The tablet broke two weeks ago!"

“Ugh, fine. C’mon,” Meg said, and the sound of two pairs of footsteps running down the stairs followed. “Dad!” Meg called.

Ace hid a smile behind the newspaper he was reading in the kitchen. What had started as a sarcastic nickname from Meg’s side seemed to become less of a joke with each day that passed.

"What is it?" he called back.

“I can't find my Scheiß-charger!” Meg complained.

Ace glanced at Felix sipping his (gross, black) coffee across the breakfast table. But Felix's lips merely twitched up in amusement, once again making Ace grateful that he wasn't too strict when it came to the language used around his kid.

“Have you been teaching my innocent daughter naughty words?” Ace asked.

“No,” Felix said, then smirked. “If I did, I promise she'd swear much more creatively.”

“Dad!” Meg said as she stormed into the kitchen, a backpack slung over her shoulder.

“Take my power bank,” Ace said. “It's by the coffee machine.”

“Thanks,” Meg said. She also yoinked an apple from the fruit bowl.

“No breakfast?” Felix asked.

“I'll grab something from the cafeteria before class,” Meg said. “It's better than this old coot's cooking.”

“Hey!” Ace protested. Sure, making food from scratch in an actual kitchen was still new for him, but he'd only burned that last omelet a little—

“Fair enough,” Felix instantly agreed with Meg.

Ace gasped. “Et tu, brute?”

“Meg!” Klara ran into the kitchen. “You forgot your keys!” she said, holding up the item.

Meg grinned. “Thanks. Walk me out?”

“Mm-hm!” Klara nodded and the duo headed outside.

“We should see her off too,” Felix said, standing up from the table. “It's her first exam.”

Ace chuckled to himself before following. Felix was very into all the firsts of their kids: Meg's first driving lesson, Klara's first soccer practice, their first time visiting the science museum together…

And now Meg's very first exam at her new university.

Ace tightened his morning robe before stepping out onto their front yard. Meg and Klara were talking in the driveway and Felix already had his phone pulled out for a photo.

"Even if you don't know the answer, try to guess!” Klara said, apparently having taken it upon herself to tutor Meg.

“Yeah, I hope my teacher gives me a gold star on my first test too,” Meg said, then smirked. “But I still think you cheated!”

She poked Klara in the ribs and the girl laughed, protesting, “Hab ich nicht!”

Click.

“Oh, for the love of…” Meg glared up at Felix, who stood proudly with his phone pointed at them. “This better not be going in the photo album.”

“But you're so cuuute with your little backpack!” Ace cooed obnoxiously.

Meg's hand twitched before she grit her teeth and clenched it into a fist, showing considerable willpower in not flipping Ace off.

“Whatever. Bye, losers,” Meg said, walking to her car.

Klara waved. “Bye, Meg!”

“Drive safely,” Felix added.

“Good luck, Firecracker,” Ace said.

“Like I need the luck,” Meg scoffed and shut the door.

She sped out of the driveway in the car that Felix and Ace had bought for her together. Five cars might be a little overkill for a household of four, but Meg deserved her independence, and Felix's ridiculous sports cars weren't exactly the most suitable for a new driver.

Ace was just glad that Meg was still sticking around. Rather than relocate closer to her campus, Meg had claimed she liked the luxury of the Richter manor too much to move out. And she wasn't wrong: their new home was definitely an improvement over the ratty apartment her and Ace had shared for their first year and a half in Germany.

Feeling a little sentimental, Ace sighed and leaned his head on Felix's shoulder. "Ah, they grow up so fast," he said, only half joking.

"At least you didn't cry this time," Felix said.

"Oh, bite me," Ace shot back.

Felix smirked. "Maybe later."

“Papa!” Klara came up and tugged on Felix's sleeve. “Can we feed the fish?” she asked in German.

Felix glanced at his watch and frowned. “Papa has to go to work. Unless Ace wants to feed the fish before taking you to school?”

Two identical pairs of blue puppy eyes looked at Ace and, really, how was he supposed to say no?

Ace grinned. “Tell you what, princess, why don't you go get the fish food and I'll meet you by the pond? But don't take too much, Leonardo is getting fat!”

Klara nodded and smiled bright before scurrying back inside.

“So, alone at last, huh?” Ace joked, turning to face Felix. “How about a—”

Felix was apparently way ahead of him, immediately stepping right into Ace’s personal space and leaning in for a smooch before Ace even said the words ‘goodbye kiss.’

Ace hummed in surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, relishing in familiar feeling of Felix’s soft lips against his.

“Well, I certainly hope you have a good day, too,” Ace purred when they pulled apart.

Surprisingly, Felix didn't snark back like usual. He simply rested his chin on top of Ace's head and breathed a deep and happy sigh.

“Thank you,” Felix murmured. “Thank you for being here. For being you.”

“Hey hey hey, no sappiness allowed this early in the morning,” Ace teased even as he eagerly leaned into the embrace. “Besides, I'm the one who should be thanking you for taking in two strays.”

"One of the best decisions I have ever made."

"Really?" Ace prodded. "Even after I stole that stupid gold egg from the mayor's party and you had to awkwardly return it?"

"Yes. And especially after an unknown red-haired vandal keyed my idiot aunt's car after she claimed you'd be a lousy stepfather for Klara." Felix chuckled and Ace smiled too.

But even while they could joke about it now, it hadn't been an easy two years for any of them. Half of Felix's relatives had cut contact as soon as they found out he was dating a man, and he'd also had to drastically adjust his work-life balance before his ex even considered letting him have Klara every other week.

Meanwhile, Meg kept getting in trouble for the shoplifting habit she couldn't quite seem to shake and Ace had almost gotten them evicted by repeatedly gambling away rent money. And even after Felix invited them to move in, both Ace and Meg kept waiting for the other shoe to drop: courtesy of half a decade of being on the run.

To this day, Ace still kept a panic bag in his closet with his and Meg's essentials ready to go. But he was trying; they all were, and that was what mattered.

Hit with a sudden burst of affection, Ace hugged Felix tighter. "Love you," he croaked out.

It was ridiculous how nervous he still felt saying those words and actually meaning them. But every time, it got a little easier.

“And I love you,” Felix said earnestly. He kissed Ace's temple that had even more gray now than two years ago. “And I love our family. Flaws and all.”

“Yeah,” Ace said thickly, his heart stuttering over the word family. “Me too.”

Fortunately—before Ace had the chance to embarrass himself further by actually tearing up like Felix joked—he heard the side door of the manor open and close.

"Speaking of family…” Ace said, reluctantly pulling away. “It sounds like I've got some fish to feed."

Felix sighed. "And I should go before I'm late to work.”

"Eh, you can always blame the terrible traffic on your private road,” Ace joked. “But say hi to Lauren for me, would you? Oh, and are you picking up Klara today?”

“Yes, I'll try to,'' Felix said, grabbing his briefcase from just inside the front door. “I have a meeting in the afternoon, but I'll call you if it looks like it'll run late.”

“Gotcha. Have a good day.”

“You too.” Felix walked towards his car, then stopped and turned around with a knowing stare. “And do not let Klara overfeed Leonardo again.”

Ace laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

Felix drove off, and just a few seconds later, Klara’s head popped around the corner of the house.

“Ace?” she said, a sheepish smile on her face. “I dropped the whole food bucket in the water…”

Instantly, Ace was sprinting to the garden.

“Goddamnit, if that fat fuck of a carp eats it all again…!”

The morning ended with Ace diving into the koi pond in his pajamas and resulted in a giggling Klara being late for school.

But in the evening, Klara was showing off a drawing she’d made in class of Ace wrestling a gigantic carp—making Meg howl laugh and even Felix snicker in between trying to nag about the pond’s delicate pH balance—so Ace would count it as a success.

Their strange little mismatched family might not be perfect, but Ace wouldn't trade it for the world.

#riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #meg thomas #dbd #dead by daylight

6 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 10 months

Text

[Riconti] Friendly Fire

A little fic I wrote based on this one throwaway line in my long(?)fic Good at Pretending.

The groupchat part uses a workskin so please read on ao3 ❤️

#riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

12 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 11 months

Text

[Riconti] First impressions

Summary: The new survivor is a snobby German architect, and Ace hates him on sight. Rated T | 3.4k words | ao3 link

Boludo – idiot

It started in a trial like any other.

Ace was crouched on one of the hills in Autohaven, happily minding his own business—

Well. He was actually bleeding rather heavily from a machete slash in his abdomen and desperately tugging on the padlock of a chest in the hopes of finding a med-kit. But that was pretty much business as usual, these last few years.

The lock finally gave and Ace eagerly looked inside for his prize, sighing when the sad sight of a standard flashlight greeted him.

Luck was not on his side today; not only had the Trapper carried Jeff to the basement and trapped the whole thing to hell even with Ace trying to distract him, but throughout the whole ordeal of Jeff hanging on the hook until his death, their remaining two teammates had somehow only managed to finish one generator.

And Ace couldn’t even find a damn med-kit to patch himself up.

Grumbling under his breath, Ace headed to the nearest generator—not caring if he stepped in a trap or left blood and scratch marks all over the place. Neither of his teammates had been found yet so they must have been stealthing again, meaning the trial would drag on for hours unless Ace did something.

"Something" was, of course, being found by the killer and giving the others the possibility of escape. It was like his teammates expected Ace to be the one to throw himself into danger head first, like anyone enjoyed being brutally tortured and killed.

Ace kept working on the generator mostly out of spite. Once he’d gotten the first piston moving, he took another look around, and—

Saw movement out of the corner of his eye behind some rocks.

Ace squinted at the rock loop and its attached pallet. It might just have been a crow, but Ace could have sworn…

There! Someone’s shoulder was clearly visible between the rock and a tree. The killer was still nowhere to be seen, yet his teammate would hide in safety and simply watch Ace do the objective, all the while waiting for him to be found?

Ace was done.

"¡Che!" he called. "What do you think you're doing?"

The figure didn't move from its position, so Ace got off of the generator and approached the rocks, irritation rising with each step he took.

"¡Che, boludo! I'm talking to you!" Ace yelled, not caring if the Trapper heard him.

Still getting no response, Ace aimed his useless flashlight at the visible shoulder and clicked it on and off obnoxiously. This time, the person did move, if only to duck more behind the cover.

"Yeah, that's right: I see you, hiding over there!” Ace snapped. “I swear to god, Jake, if you're petting the damn crows again—"

Ace rounded the rock loop and promptly faltered at the sight that greeted him. That was definitely not Jake befriending the wildlife, or Steve trying to get pebble value, or even Nancy cleansing every dull totem on the map.

That was an adult man in a three-piece suit, cowering against the rock and staring at Ace like a man in a leopard print shirt was the most frightening thing he'd seen in his life.

Ace groaned in frustration as he realized why the trial had gone to shit.

"Oh, fantastic: a newbie,” Ace sighed. “This day just keeps getting better."

"Y…y-y-you…" the newcomer stammered.

“Speak up, boludo.”

“There's some kind of…of murderer in these woods!” he managed.

“Pfft, that's just Trapper,” Ace scoffed. “If you think he's bad, wait until you go against the S-tiers.”

The man just kept staring at him with tear-reddened eyes like he was about to faint. His gaze then dropped to the wound in Ace's side, still bleeding profusely.

“You're…oh, god, you're bleeding,” he said, looking like he was about to throw up.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Ace huffed. “Wanna make yourself useful and actually help out?”

“Wh…” the idiot faltered. “H-how?”

Ace sighed and begrudgingly went through the basics of healing another survivor. He wasn’t in the mood for the whole “Welcome to hell”-speech and regardless, the newbie seemed like even looking at Ace’s wound was too much for his dumb little head to handle.

Of course, being shaky and terrified and stupid, the boludo kept stabbing Ace with the needle. And when the Trapper inevitably found them, Ace reluctantly took the chase while still injured.

But later, when the newbie stepped in a bear trap in plain sight—despite Autohaven having no fucking grass whatsoever—and the Trapper consequently carried him to the basement, well, Ace sure as hell wasn’t going in there.

—

Cheto – snob

Just a few days later, Ace was watching the new guy posture and prance in front of the survivors, pretending he hadn’t been shitting his pants when Ace first found him.

The man had introduced himself as Felix Richter, and as he did so his chin had lifted up, just like every single trust fund baby Ace had ever met: like his family name was some sort of great achievement instead of simply being born into generational wealth.

Ace grit his teeth as Felix laughed at something Kate said, shuffling his cards more aggressively. Felix’s laugh was the fakest thing Ace had ever heard, almost as fake as the man's, "Oh yes, Jane, tell me more about your third vacation home.'' Yet everyone had absolutely eaten up the act, and Felix was a hit at the campfire.

That also meant nobody wanted to listen to Ace's jokes when they could talk to the hot German instead, and they'd even canceled poker night that week and, no, Ace was not still bitter about that.

Thankfully, not everyone had fallen for Felix's charms.

"Ugh, he's so annoying," Nea spat, inserting herself into Ace's space. "You'd think no one's ever seen a rich white guy before."

Ah, yes. Con man and graffiti artist; an unexpected duo, both more or less raised on the streets and despising rich people with a passion. Apart from Nea, only Jake seemed to share Ace’s sentiment towards Felix, at least based on the disgusted sneer and disappearing-into-the-woods-for-days thing the saboteur had done as soon as Felix started talking.

"Absolutely unbearable cheto," Ace agreed. "I saw him refusing to leave the boat on the swamp because he didn’t want to get mud on his designer shoes."

Well; it may have been because Claudette had told Felix to work on the boat generator since it was the safest, but that didn’t change the fact that Felix had relaxed ever so slightly before eyeing the swamp water in disgust.

"What a piece of shit," Nea said. "Like last trial, when I tried to be nice and heal him, he kept being pissy and saying he had a med-kit, even though I could see it was empty. And then he just went to hide in a locker! It's like he's too good to even be touched by a pleb like me."

"His loss, piba," Ace said. "Rich men have absolutely no clue how to talk to women."

"Or men," Nea said. "The other day he kept bragging so much about his career that even Adam looked bored. He probably lied about having a girlfriend too, because honestly, who the hell would put up with that?"

"Plenty of gold-diggers in this world," Ace said. "God knows nobody would be with a cheto like him for any other reason than money."

Nea laughed, and even Ace realized that was maybe a little cruel. But since nobody was paying the two of them any mind, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

—

Over the next few weeks, Ace made sure to let Felix know just how little he appreciated him.

"Careful you don't chip a nail, cheto," Ace sneered when Felix approached the generator he was working on.

Felix frowned—probably confused as to how anyone dared insult someone with his status—before wordlessly starting repairs on the machine.

"Oh, no,'' Ace said in mock sympathy when Felix hobbled into the exit gate bleeding. "Is the cheto’s expensive shirt ruined with blood?"

Felix only stumbled out of the trial injured rather than let Ace’s filthy hands touch him for a heal.

“Took you long enough!” Ace grit out through clenched teeth as he struggled against the Entity’s claw on a hook.

Felix’s mouth pressed into a line and he unhooked Ace as fast as he could, making Ace stumble and almost trip when his feet landed harshly on the ground.

“¡Oye!” Ace protested. “You could at least pretend you aren’t disgusted by the rest of us. Fucking cheto,” Ace added under his breath as he staggered off to see if someone else would patch him up.

He had to admit it was a little anticlimactic to never get a response out of Felix. It was no secret that Ace was knowingly riling him up and looking to start an argument, but Felix never took the bait.

Somehow, Felix being stupidly mature about it made him even more annoying.

—

Ace had started following Jake’s example and taken to disappearing into the woods every now and then to get away from the constant Felix-fawning at the campfire. It had gotten so bad that even if Felix himself wasn’t there, Kate was swooning over how handsome he was or Adam was complimenting his intelligence.

Weeks. It had been weeks and people would still rather talk about some bland rich guy 24/7 instead of listening to Ace’s fantastic jokes or playing one damn game of cards.

Ace tied the string of one of the salt pouches a little too forcefully and it snapped in his hands. Great; even Ace’s luck offerings were cursed with bad fortune. Ever since that stupid cheto came along, everything had gone to absolute shit—

The sound of rustling leaves pulled Ace out of his thoughts and he looked up just in time to spot Felix barging into Ace’s moping spot through the shrubbery. Perfect.

Ace didn't even have time to say anything passive-aggressive, because Felix was immediately putting on that fuck-awful fake smile again, before he just…wiped it off and seemed to deflate.

"Oh, thank god," Felix sighed. "It's only you."

The snappy comeback died on Ace's tongue. Felix was…relieved to see him?

"Sorry, I'll stay out of your way. I just needed some space,'' Felix said.

Felix walked away, until there was fifty or so meters between them, and then sank down to sit behind a tree.

Ace stared after him for a good few minutes. What the hell was that?

Eventually, his curiosity won over the petty dislike and he approached Felix.

"Oye, cheto," Ace said, though he lacked any of his usual heat.

Felix glanced up. His face was relaxed and his eyes curious, none of that exaggerated haughtiness or fake smiles to be seen. His body was slumped rather inelegantly against the tree, carelessly rumpling his expensive suit like he didn't even care, the top buttons undone like he needed to breathe, and he looked…

Handsome.

Ace mentally shook the absurd thought from his head even as something unfamiliar bubbled up in his chest.

"Why the long face?" Ace asked. He leaned against Felix’s tree in a way he hoped looked casual. "I thought you were surrounded by your adoring fans."

Felix snorted—actually ugly snorted—at that, and Ace nearly had a seizure. He'd only heard Felix politely chuckle before.

"That's funny," Felix said, like his laugh hadn’t given it away. "Because I hate socializing."

"Oh," Ace said. That definitely clashed with his mental image of Felix the snobby schmoozer, who would be completely at home mingling in some luxurious cocktail party.

"That's surprising to you?" Felix asked. "I haven't exactly been very polite to people, most of the time.”

"Well, yeah, but I figured that was less about talking to people, and more about deze people make lezs than six figurez per year and are thus not worth my time,'' Ace said in his most obnoxious German accent.

Felix snorted again, and this time he even wiped his nose after, which was…simultaneously gross, yet oddly cute—

Err, weird and different from his usual way of carrying himself, Ace mentally corrected.

"Afraid not,” Felix said. "It's just draining to pretend all the time."

"And…why aren't you pretending now?" Ace asked.

"You've seen me at my worst, so…" Felix shrugged, and Ace was brought back to that trial with Felix crying and trembling so much he couldn't even heal Ace. "Someone hating me for who I truly am is somehow better than people liking me for someone I'm not."

It made Ace do a double take. Felix had assumed Ace hated him—honestly, not a stupid assumption considering Ace's hostility—and thus in a strange way, felt like he could be himself around him.

The thing was, that wasn’t even true. It might have been true weeks ago; sure, Ace had hated Felix in the moment, when he ruined poker night or acted like Nea had cooties.

But most of all, Ace had been jealous.

"I don't hate you," Ace said. At Felix's skeptical look, he added, "I just—I hate the act you put on. That guy is a grade-A douchebag."

Felix stared at him blankly for a few seconds, which was extremely unnerving. But then he smiled, bright and unashamedly happy and so radiant in Ace's miserable life that it felt like looking into the sun.

"I completely agree with you," Felix said. "I hate that guy."

That was…a very weird statement from someone who actively chose to be that guy. But since Felix took the opportunity to start talking about some schmucks at his workplace who ate up the whole thing, Ace eventually found himself sliding down to sit against Felix's tree and even wheezing in laughter at some of Felix's secretly dark sense of humor.

—

Chetito – little snob (affectionate)

After their conversation, Ace found it much easier to be near Felix.

The other survivors still treated Felix the same: like he was some figure of authority and not the antisocial geek Ace now knew him to be.

"Ay, cheto, help me with this," Ace said, waving Felix over to his generator.

"Heh, not bad for a chetito," Ace said, smiling through bloodied teeth as Felix speedily patched up the gnarly chainsaw wound in his side without even flinching from the gore.

"Sorry, I need to borrow the chetito to settle a bet," Ace butted in when people were crowding Felix at the campfire.

And,

"Ah, mierda. Nea is going to vandalize my favorite shirt when she finds out I've befriended the chetito," Ace groaned when he and Felix were playing cards in the woods.

Somehow, that made Felix smile the most, and Ace realized that somewhere during this whole mess, not only had cheto become chetito, but they'd also become friends.

—

It became a habit to sneak off with Felix from the campfire.

Every time Felix was drained from socializing or a rough trial or Ace was bouncing off the walls from boredom, one of them would politely excuse themselves and the other would follow not long after. Sometimes they’d just sit in the woods and exist in the same space until Felix demanded a rematch of their last card game, other times Ace would drag Felix along to the other realms in the fog and ramble nonstop all the while, and occasionally they’d spend hours talking shit about killers and other survivors alike until Ace howled from laughter at Felix’s progressively more ridiculous German insults.

This time, they were sitting together on top of one of the car piles in Autohaven. Ace had dared Felix to climb it, and to his surprise, Felix had only rolled up his sleeves before getting to the task.

Felix had ripped his suit at the knees and elbows and may or may not have needed to help pull Ace up because Ace didn’t have a giant German mountain-climbing body. Felix only gave him a little bit of shit for it.

They were talking—or, more accurately, Felix was ranting about how much he'd hated his life before the fog.

"Oh yeah, must have been so difficult, being able to buy everything you could ever want with the snap of your fingers," Ace couldn't help teasing, elbowing Felix in the side.

"It couldn't buy me confidence or get rid of my anxiety,'' Felix said wryly, before hesitating. "And…I couldn’t have what I really wanted."

Ace waited for Felix to elaborate, but he was just looking down into his lap with an unreadable expression.

"Hm?" Ace finally prodded.

"Do you know how difficult it is?" Felix said, all humor gone from his voice. "When the thing you want the most is right there, but you can't…you can't bring yourself to reach for it?"

Felix looked up at Ace, then, and his hand was trembling where it was almost touching Ace's as they leaned back on an old Mercedes. Felix, six foot something of pure awkward stubbornness, looked so uncharacteristically vulnerable in that moment.

"No," Ace said honestly. "Whenever I wanted something, I usually just went for it—consequences be damned."

Felix gave a sad little half-smile. "I know. And I envy that so much about you."

Felix looked away with a defeated sigh and his hand slid closer to his body, away from Ace, and—

"Coward," Ace blurted out.

Felix’s head whipped back to look at Ace. "Excuse me?"

"I said you're a coward," Ace’s mouth was speaking before his brain could catch up. "You're never gonna be happy if you give up on things you want before you've even tried."

Felix’s eyes narrowed. "I'll have you know I worked my ass off to be an architect—"

"I didn't say you were a quitter,'' Ace huffed. God knows Felix could be persistent when he wanted to be. "Just a coward."

Ace very pointedly inched his hand closer to Felix along the hood of the car. Felix's eyes followed the movement.

"You…" Felix trailed off, staring at Ace with wide eyes.

And Ace was a lot of things, but patient wasn't one of them.

"Well," Ace sighed dramatically. "Unless you're too much of a chetito to even touch a filthy slum rat like me—"

And that was when Felix surged forward and met Ace's lips in a very enthusiastic kiss, and Ace only smiled and tugged his little snob closer by the lapels of his stupidly expensive and now slightly ripped suit jacket.

—

Glückspilz – ???

Two years later…

"Oh my god, that was amazing!" Ace grinned while he and Felix walked back to their own private campfire. "Who would've thought kite fighting could be that much fun?"

"It's good to see that the siblings are settling in," Felix agreed.

"Ah, come on, mi chetito," Ace said. "I could see how much you were enjoying yourself back there. What would your old business associates say if they saw you screaming your heart out over a kids' game, huh?"

"I don’t know." Felix smiled smugly. "But I do know that I especially enjoyed destroying you in the very first match we had."

Ace gasped. "Just because you and Renato ganged up on me!"

"And you bent the rules first," Felix shot back.

"Technically, the rules didn’t say—"

"I'm certain that tickling your opponent until they let go of their kite counts as cheating."

Ace huffed and crossed his arms. "Not my fault Dwight's so ticklish!"

Felix snorted out a laugh and shook his head, before grabbing Ace's hand and turning to face him.

"You," Felix said, bringing up their joined hands. "Are my Glückspilz."

Ace beamed, feeling giddy. "Wow. It only took two and a half years for me to get my own nickname, huh?"

Felix smiled even as pink splotches appeared on his face; he was such an ugly blusher, but Ace adored it.

"I had to make sure it was perfect," Felix said.

"So?” Ace prodded. “What does it mean?"

Felix leaned in to press his lips on Ace's knuckles. "My lucky mushroom," Felix murmured.

Ace’s stupidly smitten expression instantly gave way for a confused frown. “Come again?”

“It’s just a saying,” Felix explained. “When someone is extremely lucky—”

“But a mushroom!?” Ace repeated indignantly. “You took two years to think of that?”

“I can call you Arschloch instead, if you’d prefer,” Felix deadpanned.

Ace bit his lip to suppress a smile. “You’re an absolute menace.”

“Yet you still call me a snob.”

“Shut up, chetito.”

“As you wish, mein Glückspilz.”

#riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

15 notes · View notes