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#key's-vault
peeweekey · 21 days
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8:05 | SAM
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word count: 3.2k
summary: sam’s ten heart event with a twist.
tags: winter, developing relationships, fluff, swearing, cuddling, hiding from his mother in his bed lol
a/n: this spiralled out of my control and into 3k words… enjoy!
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it’s cold.
the fleece coat you’ve bundled yourself in cannot protect goosebumps from forming from the biting chill of the valley’s winter nights. your breaths come out in cloudy puffs of air, the heat slowly draining out of every exhale. it’s dark out, poorly spaced lampposts providing the bare minimum amount of light to navigate.
you got sam’s letter earlier, a clumsily written note that was stuffed haphazardly into your farm’s mailbox—the yellow lined paper he used, all crumpled and ripped.
meet me in front of my house! at 8 pm, i’ll be waiting. there’s something i want to tell you.
the ending sentence is somehow even more sloppily written compared to the ones before it. as if he was debating whether or not to add it in, but ultimately decided for it—it’s funny to imagine him hunched over his desk, stressing over what to write to you.
well, you won’t deny feeling excitement over the possibility of whatever sam has to say. if the subtle skip in your step is anything to go by.
you walk through the silent night of the town, it seems like everything’s frozen in place during the colder times of the year—everyone’s safe at home, toasty under their covers and you’d imagine thoroughly enjoying going to bed at 7 pm.
you do too, sometimes. there’s less to do when the ground is too frozen to plant any crop.
there’s a lot more free time out of the farm during the winter. you’ve really started integrating yourself with the townspeople—helping haley find her bracelet, befriending sam’s prickly coworker shane, and even discovering a shadowperson named Krobus in the town sewers. it really is starting to feel like home.
walking, you cut the corner passing by emily and haley’s house—and there he is.
he looks devastatingly handsome all dressed in winter clothing. his regular denim jacket switched out for a dark woolen coat, his pants are unripped and, surprisingly, not smeared with dirt.
though what you like most about his winter attire is his hair. those wild golden locks are laid flat under a woolen beanie—a stark difference from the spiked updo he usually does (though you like that one too). the tips of his hair are slightly curled upwards, revealing that family trait of curly hair.
you creep closer, just watching him wait for you—the way he folds his arms in an attempt to warm up, and the little shuffle he does on his feet. you laugh softly, he must’ve been waiting a while—just like you have for him.
sam turns at the sound of your laugh, his body unconsciously tilting towards you, like a magnet’s uncontrollable attracting to metal. “you made it,” he breathes, his nose, ears and cheeks pinkened by the cold.
you nod, unable to stop a bashful smile from forming on your lips. “i made it.”
a big grin splits his face, mimicking yours. underneath the lone lamplight he looks jaw-droppingly handsome. you feel yourself become warm just in proximity to him.
“i wanted to talk to you in private,” he says. sam’s buzzing with energy, surveying the dark streets before meeting your gaze with his. “it’s kinda cold out here though… i, um—i can sneak you into my room…”
your heart skips a beat, like you’ve skipped a step on a staircase. “what?” you croak.
your eyes catch onto him wringing his fingers, a nervous habit you can’t help but always notice (not because his hands are nice and interesting to look at, not at all).
“you don’t wanna?”
“no!” you inhale, trying to alleviate the twisting sensation in your gut. “i do wanna, ahem, lead the way.”
sam smiles at you, dimples and all. he leads you towards the tiny bedroom window in front of his house. the window is already open—you assume that’s where he jumped out of to meet you.
he climbs through the window with minimal effort, landing on the flooring with a dull thump!
you raise a brow. “have you done this before?”
sam stretches his hand out to you, waiting. his smile turnt sheepish. “i mean, i think we were all rebellious teenagers once.”
you resist the urge to snort—sam’s nervous, you can tell. he doesn’t have his quips and jokes tonight. and he’s shy, but eager. like a puppy, excited and curious about the world.
“o-kay,” you say, one hand in his hand the other set firmly on the windowsill. “make sure i don’t fall please.”
sam nods, eagerly. the curled ends of his hair shake along with the motion as he does.
how endearing.
you tighten your grip on his hand, hauling yourself through the small window, trying your damn best to not make any sudden noise. which is successful for the most part, only a tiny huff of exertion escapes you.
annoying, yes. but the chill of winter burns through any energy you have faster than other seasons.
your feet connect with the wood of his floor, hand still clasped in his and the chill merely at your back. it’s warm inside, with him.
his room is the same as it’s always been when you’d visit before—shelves, band equipment, posters—but the ambiance is different. a little more charged with tension so thick you could cut through it with a knife.
sam does not bother turning on his light, you don’t mind it all that much. but it takes some effort to avoid tumbling over stray objects that clutter his bedroom floor.
“look, I know I’ve been about nothing but the band for a while now…” he starts. “but I don’t want you to think that’s all i’m interested in.”
you chuckle, clasping your fingers behind your back. “it certainly takes up a big chunk of your interests.”
he pouts, literally pouts. it must be the love bug you caught because you think it’s just plain adorable. “i’m really trying over here!”
“sorry!” you grin, “okay, continue.”
“well, um… shoot, this is kinda hard, huh?” he forces an awkward chuckle. “and nerve-wrecking… but what i’m trying to say is…”
“i’m really happy that we’ve grown this close, and well…” sam looks at you, he’s stupidly red—the color spreading all over his face. “i—i’m just wondering, do you think of me as… just a friend?”
your breath stutters, and you feel yourself blushing before you can do anything to stop it. you stare at him as he does with you. the two of you locking eyes for a second, it feels like it’s just you and him in the world.
you feel your shy admittance at the tip of your tongue. no, you’d say, you’re more than that for me, if you want to be.
sam smiles at you, shy but so, so overwhelmingly bright—it’s blinding. your head is running a mile a minute when you finally get the courage—
“sam!” you hear jodi’s groggy voice from outside the door. your stomach drops with dread. “somebody’s at the door! go and check please?”
you lock eyes once again, this time for entirely different reasons, and with entirely different feelings.
“oh my god, sam,” you whisper hurriedly, panic gripping you. “your mom doesn’t know i’m here—what do we do—”
“hold on—” he replies, with the same sense of urgency as you. “okay, okay—i have a plan, just trust me, ‘kay?”
you think you might break out into a cold sweat. you look at him quizzically, “what?”
sam gives you an apologetic smile with that stupid beautiful face of his, he moves forward, grabbing you by your wrists, and moving you with him—towards his bed.
“sam!” you hiss, alarms are blaring in every corner of your mind as sam all but drags you under the toasty covers of his bed. he lifts the blanket and stations you by the edge, covering you in the blanket—which is now a lumpy mess.
this is his childhood bed you’re in, where his mother and brother are just by the door.
and his mother is calling him.
“i’ll get this over with quick,” he says to you, already heading towards the door of his room. “hang on tight, ‘kay?”
you breathe a sound of agreement, way too jittery to formulate any proper response as you quieten under the covers.
though the sheets do feel nice, and smells overwhelmingly of that specific cologne he uses (stolen from joja inventory, he told you once). you will yourself not to relax and melt into the sheets so fast. instead, you listen for each and every sound that may give hint to whatever the hell is happening.
there’s a commotion that you can hear happening, the door swings open, the hinges creaking along with it—this whole surreal experience feels a little like the confrontation part of a horror movie, the helpless victim hiding and the heavy footfalls of the killer.
though in your case, it’s not one set of footsteps, but two.
“what are you two doing here?”
“you’re the one who called us over, remember?” you can recognize the band’s shut-in pianist’s voice from anywhere. “you were all like, stop skipping practice, seb.”
sam’s voice is oddly pitchy when he responds. “…well, tonight’s no good!”
you hear the other person huff, you strain your ears harder to listen. the huffing person clearly fed up with the strange behavior sam’s putting out right now.
“my mom and vincent are asleep,” he adds hurriedly. “they’d wake up—”
you resist the urge to groan, stifling your mouth under a sweaty palm. jodie was just speaking to him minutes ago, there’s no way they’d buy that. he cannot be a more obvious liar.
thankfully they gloss over the fact. “sam, why are you acting so damn weird?” sebastian asks, straightforward as ever.
“yeah,” the other voice adds. feminine but strong. which you now identify as abigail’s, you hear a pinch of impatience in her voice. “and why are you red? did you sit outside in the snow or something—”
sam chokes, which he tries to conceal as an odd sounding cough. abigail pauses mid-sentence. the shift in the atmosphere is palpable. you screw your eyes shut, hearing the rapid rate of your heartbeat. it’s so loud you’re almost convinced the trio can hear the thumping from your hiding spot under the sheets. this is it, they’re going to discover you.
“oh, oh i see,” abigail grins. “on second thought, i wouldn't risk catching all those germs. i’m feeling starved, let’s hit the saloon, seb.”
the aforementioned man grumbles, seemingly puzzled by the sudden switch in abigail’s attitude. “huh… why?” abigail must have whispered something to him—you can barely hear over the muffle of sam’s blanket comforters. “ugh, alright. fine. you owe us one, sam.”
“oh, of course! mhm, yup,” you cringe at the immense awkwardness of sam’s response, feeling the overwhelming urge to pull out your own hair. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? now shoo! wouldn’t wanna get you both sick or somethin’…”
“huh?” sebastian replies, rightfully puzzled as they’re forcefully pushed out of the room. “why would we see you tomorrow if you’re sick—”
“well seb,” abigail says smugly. “let’s just say sammy here is taking care of some important business—”
“okay, bye!” you hear the door click shut. to your utter bewilderment, sam shut the door in their faces.
the room is deathly quiet, the air is stagnant and stuffy. once you feel it safe enough, you crane your neck out of the blankets to check over him. to trace any lingering feeling the sudden visit might’ve given him. sam’s got his back rested against the wood of his door, his back slumped.
“i—i wasn’t expecting that,” you say quietly from your hiding spot on his bed. peeking the top half of your face, watching the door carefully. “kinda nerve-wracking.”
and embarrassing.
“i know—i’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “i didn’t expect them coming over.”
“sebastian said you invited them for practice, though.” you point out.
“maybe i did,” he admits, creeping closer to you on the bed, even if he’s guilty and embarrassed. “i totally forgot—i mean, i was really nervous! my mind blanks when i get nervous…”
sam stops right by the side of the bed, as if he’s waiting for your permission to get in with you—in his own bed. and to be perfectly honest, you really want him to.
“kinda ruined the atmosphere too,” he looks away from you, eyes downcast and melancholy. “i had this whole thing planned too, and i, just… ugh…”
your eyes soften. “sam, it’s really fine. okay, maybe a little shocking but you know it’s not enough to scare me away.”
he looks down at you, worried. his eyebrows are ever so slightly pinched—you wish you could run your fingers over it, and smooth it out yourself.
“plus,” you murmur, reaching over the small amount of space between the two of you to clasp his wrist. “i’m not just gonna leave… just tell me what you were going to say—before the… interruption.”
that gives you the final push to gather your courage to tug him into bed with you. sam follows, flopping onto the empty bedding next to you without a fight. for a moment, it’s just the two of you, side by side, slowly huddling closer and closer for warmth.
and sam is warm. he’s practically radiating comfy heat you wish to burrow into—or wrap yourself around. the perfect bed-partner for winter nights like these.
you find yourself becoming addicted to the feeling.
sam angles his body towards you. you on your back and him on his side, it feels intimate and special. and for some reason, it feels familiar—like you’ve always belonged by his side.
“i think you know already,” he tells you, his eyes are not clear in the dim light but you know, there are practically hearts in them. “that i like you.”
you giggle softly. “and i think you know the same about me.”
sam tentatively grasps your hand, the freezing fingertips thawing under his careful touch. the caress of his hand on yours sends tingling electricity down your spine, your whole body feels alert—alive.
he speaks again, but this time his tone is a whisper of what it usually is. “stay awhile?”
“yeah,” you swallow, squeezing his hand in your grip. a small smile on your lips. “yes, i want to.”
“good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkle at the edges so softly and the dimples on his cheeks deepen. there really is no one else who can compare for you. “hey, you’re really cold… let me warm you up?”
you turn to your side, facing him. at this angle, your faces are mere inches apart. you can trace every dip, line and curve of his face, and he yours. your hand tingles with the overwhelming urge to reach for him and squeeze.
“it is cold,” you agree. “i’d very much like that.”
“phew,” he softly sighs. sam drags his fingers up your arm, stopping at your elbow. wherever he touches, a whisper of him lingers on your skin—a bone deep imprint you yearn for him to spread all across your skin.
you roll into him with little to no effort at all. sam drags you to his chest, your ear perched right above his heart, you can hear the steady thump! of his heartbeat from underneath. sam winds his arms around you, intensifying the heat you feel by tenfold—it’s not uncomfortable at all, though. you like it.
your bodies fit perfectly together, just like puzzle pieces. a mess of limbs tangling together. the warmth of him making you shudder in honey-like delight. it feels syrupy and soft and warm wrapped in his arms.
his hand at your back travels downwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake you feel even through the thickness of the fabric separating the skin of your back and his fingertips. his hands feel rough and calloused at the small of your back—from playing guitar and his skateboarding incidents—but you enjoy the feeling.
you trail your fingers under the thick fabric of his jacket and shirt, feeling the smooth skin underneath—the action has no deeper meaning than you wanting to feel.
sam’s uncharacteristically quiet. his breaths are slow and long, like he’s on the verge of sleep. yet his arms are wound tight around you—like he never wants to let go of you. your nerves make you feel like a slow simmering soup. warm and slowly cooking over the fire.
you two stay entangled for a while, in comfortable silence. sometime during the night you’ve matched your breathing to his, and he pulled you somehow even closer to his body.
but, a thump comes from his window, a light tapping sound. soft but persistent. the two of you opt to ignore it, in favor of snuggling closer to each other. yet the taps continue, and become louder and faster.
disrupted by the noise, sam mournfully throws the covers from over him to check, untangling himself from your grip. leaving a very him-shaped indent on the bed left in his wake. you groan, sticking your bottom lip out, you miss the warmth of him already.
“oh shit.”
the expletive makes you sit up in his bed, the comforter draping off your middle. you can make out the shape of him even with the dimness of the light—sam’s back is towards you, and if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks like he’s shrinking into himself a tiny bit.
“what is it?” you whisper-shout to him.
he slowly turns to you, wide eyed, his shoulders stiff. sort of resembling a kicked-dog. sam bows down his head—with what you think is shame, for what reason, you can’t tell. rubbing your eyes of sleep, you furrow your brow, craning your neck to look out the window behind him.
abigail and sebastian are there, waving wildly at you. your eyes widen. abigail and sebastian are waving at you with smug smiles plastered on their faces.
your stomach drops for the umpteenth time that night. you honestly feel too horrified to speak.
you bury yourself under the sheets, a feeble attempt to conceal your mortification. so that’s why abigail was playing along with sam’s urgent ramblings—she knew (not that sam was any good at keeping a cool facade, he is totally incapable of lying smoothly). you groan, you feel like a rebellious teenager again, only the part where you get caught and utterly humiliated.
outside, you can hear the loud roaring laughter of the duo through the glass, alongside the awkward, embarrassed chatter of your newly-minted boyfriend. (not technically official, but the title succeeds to relieve your horror by the tiniest bit)
still, you stay put. through the mortification and embarrassment you still stick yourself to sam’s side, or more literally, on his bed—because you know, there’s no other place you’d rather be.
you spare another glance out of the covers at the trio—to your surprise, sam’s beat you to it. looking at you with heart eyes and the most lovesick expression (you’re pretty sure yours looks the same).
you know there’s going to be a lot more explaining to do in the morning. but it doesn’t matter to you, not right now when you’re in sam’s bed on the verge of sleep.
not when you feel so warm.
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a/n: shoutout to the ass trio for making an appearance in the fic! i love you abby and seb.
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arthursfuckinghat · 1 month
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"I was gonna say you're like a son to me.. but you're more than that."
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"It ain't that complicated!"
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How quickly that shoulder pat of comfort turned into a condescending one.
#he makes me feel so emo#this life was never meant for you but your fate was forced#the way dutch (and hosea) talks to arthur like he's stupid will never sit right with me#like they've been by his side over 20 years they KNOW he isn't stupid because if he was he would have been gone a long time ago#not only is arthur incredibly emotionally smart but he's a trained conman vault breaker gunslinger horse rider you name it#the fact that his own adoptive parents break him down like that hurts#it's a manipulation tactic on dutch's end - break your victims self esteem to make them chase your praise and approval#hosea I believe has just gone along with that kind of attitude but in a different way he just likes to jest lightheartedly#arthur doesn't see the difference though and it's understandable but he takes it to heart#the worst part is that hosea sees through his tough guy act and has called arthur out on it#his act is a defence mechanism to protect himself from being too vulnerable - in arthur's mind#and it isn't a sudden thing it's very likely something that has built over the years given the life he has lived#and hosea notices he knows this#but they still jab at arthur#oh it hurts#is he your son dutch? or is he your guard dog? your personal workhorse?#playing through the second time is opening my eyes more and more#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#mick squeaks#mick rants#mick gifs#arthur morgan#dutch van der linde#liveblogging#you guys gotta understand - arthur seeks and longs for dutch's approval he'll never say it but it's the key motive behind his loyalty#and arthur *rejects* dutch's comfort#he doesn't *want* dutch to pat him on the shoulder because he knows dutch is digging them an even deeper hole#he doesn't want that touch he craves#it's so insanely monumental for such a small scene because it shows us how arthur feels without telling us
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lexumpysfunland · 3 days
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*I shove walter down on a therapy bed with a stick and click my pen* What happened to make you this way... how do you f e e l?
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sounds like you're not going to get info out of him-
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banicraft · 1 month
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Minecraft, But the patchnotes said "Ominous" so many times that it doesnt feel like a real word to such a point that i could be easily convinced that Jeb Underscore himself invented the word
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eeriedragone · 10 months
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Happy ten years to Pacific Rim!
I am so glad to have found this film, even if I'm a decade late :v
Also please I need a spin off for these two bc they've been living rent free in my brain for months now (i have so many aus and crossover ideas it's not even funny)
More Newmann stuff
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akreon · 1 year
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Book cover I had the pleasure to illustrate for 'Keys from the Golden Vault' | Dungeons & Dragons
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constantvariations · 27 days
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If Salem obliterated Vale, does that mean she has its relic?
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rin-bellatrix · 6 months
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Some Things Are Meant To Be
"Take my hand, take my whole life too. Oh, for I can't help, falling in love with you." - Haley Reinhart
Exploring a near dilapidated building in search of anything worthwhile with her boyfriend, sister and brother-in-law, Fiona nearly ends up empty-handed, but leaves with a little more than she expected.
Written for Rhyiona Week 2023 with the prompt "trick/treat"
Header art by AnnaSabiNoKami 🌌
Purple galaxy dividers from this post. Purple glitter divider from this post. Purple reblog and feedback divider from this post.
Enjoy and Happy Halloween! 🎃
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"Hey! Can you believe it? It still works!"
Fiona stood from where she had been hunched, sifting through a chest of knickknacks, turning to face Rhys who was handling some type of electronic device as he showed it off to Sasha on the other side of the room. Her sister stepped closer and observed him manipulating the cracked interface, and she tilted her face up to his with a question and his grin widened.
The sight of them in such a moment would have wounded her heart in the past, but now it made her smile in private satisfaction. Her boyfriend and her sister getting along so well always soothed some broken part of her, one that always wanted love and safety for the most important people in her life. Sasha welcoming Rhys so readily into their small family was a balm to her soul, just as Rhys had when securing Sasha as another best friend. They got along so great, and the sight softened the most jaded parts of her. Her two favorite people were happy and healthy and honestly, what more could Fiona ask for.
Sasha scoffed, taking a step away from the company man, idly running a hand over her hair as she pointed out a latch in the back. He turned it over and inspected it as the younger Pandoran walked away at the call of her husband's voice. August complaining about something, as was his usual, his grousing mutters making the young woman smile in affection as she sought him out.
Even newlywed, Sasha couldn't resist a good treasure hunt.
Rhys tapped against the outer shell of the device, his face showing clear confusion as Fiona sidled up beside him.
"What cha got there? Anything worth selling?"
He turned towards her, his bi-colored eyes falling down to her face. "If I'm right about what this is, this has the potential to be either a removable hard drive which could contain all kinds of secrets, or... It's a handheld video game system. Can't really remember right now, I've gotta take it back to HQ to run a more thorough scan." His lip twisted into a pout as he considered the retro machine in his hand.
Fiona reached up and brushed off some dust from his lapel, her hand moving up to the slope of his broad shoulder and down his arm, the expensive material of his suit gliding beneath her fingers. By the time she lifted her eyes back up to his, his pout had disappeared and his face had softened as he looked down at her.
"As long as it's not the digital remains of a megalomaniac, I'd consider it a successful heist," she joked, her lips kicked up in a playful smirk.
He huffed out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head at her coy words. "Yeah, never wanna deal with that again. I'm good. Uhm, but hey..." he began, his mood suddenly shifting.
The vault hunter tilted her head, allowing her lover to take hold of her hand and pull her away from the room they were in. The distant sounds of Sasha's amused tones and August's loud curses faded gradually as he lead them further into the abandoned building they were rummaging through.
They walked down a long hallway, past other rooms that had already been ransacked, Rhys all the while holding her hand gently in his own. He finally slowed as he reached an overturned bench, releasing her hand to right the piece of furniture and dust off the old cushions. He sat down and patted the space next to him, his smiling face bright in the dingy light.
Fiona felt herself mirroring his expression as she sat next to him, her knee knocking against his. "What's up? Found something special?"
He grinned, and he looked so boyish in that moment that she had to resist reaching over to pinch his cheeks. "Actually, yeah!" He slipped his mechanical hand into the breast pocket of his blazer, pulling out what looked like an old, curved metal piece. "I think it's some kind of wrist guard. It looks like it might fit you, what do you think?"
He handed it over and the vault hunter took it, turning it over in her hands to inspect it. Intrigued, she removed the wrist brace on her left arm and tucked it away, fitting the new one into its place. It fit pretty good, a few adjustments and she'd actually be able to wear it comfortably. Tapping a turquoise nail on its tarnished metal surface, she determined that it was probably most effective when parrying bladed attacks.
"Hey, not bad. Seems like you've got a good eye for this."
"There's more, actually."
Fiona looked over at him and he was already holding out his hand to drop something into hers. She cupped her hand beneath his and he loosened his grip to let something light fall into her waiting palm. Bringing it closer, she noticed that it was a pair of earrings, giant gems glittering in the center. It was certainly an older set, the setting around the jewels had warped slightly due to age, but it was still beautiful even in its diminished state.
"Wow, not bad Rhys! Clean these up a bit and you've got a pretty penny sitting in your pocket." The Pandoran felt oddly proud in this moment, knowing her lover had scored a decent haul from the remains of a long-ago abandoned facility.
So far, she hadn't found anything of note, but the thought of leaving here knowing her boyfriend had found some treasure left her somehow satisfied. It's not often that he can leave his company and come meet with everyone like this just to enjoy some time together. This was a much needed break, not just for him but for all of them.
She handed him the old jewelry back, watching in contentment as he pocketed the set, before shoving a hand down his pants pocket. He fidgeted for a moment, before dragging his eyes up to hers. She lifted her brows in silent inquiry.
"So there's also... This other thing that I found..."
"Yeah?" she prompted when it looked like he was struggling to continue.
He seemed to hesitate, before drawing his hand out and reaching for hers. He held her left hand gently in his own as he fumbled with a small object, finally securing a hold on it and singling out her second to last finger. He slid a circular object onto her digit, nestling it past her knuckles until it sat comfortably at the base of her finger.
Fiona immediately zeroed in on the shine to the item, her critical eye noticing that it was new, unblemished like the other trinkets Rhys found before. It was a ring, precious stones flashing brightly even in the slightly darkened room. She lifted her hand and inspected it further, impressed with the fire inside the gems and the quality of the overall expert craftsmanship. This piece of jewelry was truly remarkable, and it definitely cost more than a pretty penny.
She looked up meeting her boyfriend's eyes, finding him watching her intently. "Rhys, where did you get this? There's no way you found this here," she asked, watching him curiously. This was a long ago abandoned facility, the chances of something worth while being left here, untouched by grit and grime was far too low.
He shifted in his seat, his knees bumping against hers as a blush reddened his cheeks. "Well, I did find it, but not here... It was actually in a shop on Dionysus... A jeweler to be exact."
"So... You brought this here from Dionysus?"
Atlas' ceo was watching her intently, and she felt like he was trying to tell her something without using his words. When she only responded with a perplexed hand gesture, he nearly rolled his eyes.
"I found it, at a jeweler's, as in, I commissioned a professional jeweler to make this especially for me, because I was planning on giving it to you..."
"Oh..." Fiona glanced down at the beautiful ring again. The ring Rhys had ordered to be made especially for her. The ring that was sitting on her ring finger, on her left hand. Fiona was typically as smart as a whip, but she had suffered a concussion not too long ago (the perils of being a vault hunter), and it took a minute for the gears to start turning. "...Oh!"
Snapping her gaze up to his, the focused look in his eyes now made sense as he waited for her answer. She swallowed down a rush of adrenaline, feeling the pounding of her pulse all over as she realized that yeah, this was really happening.
Knowing his lady love well, the company man knew that Fiona was currently battling a fight or flight response. Remaining calm, for both of their sakes, he reached over and gently took her hand in his, lightly running his robotic thumb over her knuckles in a slow, repetitive arc, brushing over the engagement ring with every pass.
"You don't have to answer right now, you don't even have to say yes, I just wanted-"
The vault hunter vaulted over his lap, crashing into his body with such force that it knocked the both of them off the bench, tumbling into a heap of ripped up carpet. It was incredibly dusty, smelled a little bit like mildew, but the young ceo was fully preoccupied with trying to meet the many kisses his girlfriend (fiancé?) was trying to suffocate him with.
"Is- is this- a yes? Are you- saying- yes?"
"Yes you idiot," she grinned, her lipstick smeared over her mouth in a truly ridiculous but endearing way, and the Atlas president knew from past experience that his lips were not fairing any better.
"Oh okay, that's good, because for a moment there, it kinda felt like you were gonna snap my neck and hide the body under these rugs here... Do you smell that by the way?"
Fiona was laid out over her lanky boyfriend (fiancé?), her armor and sharp accessories poking him uncomfortably, but her eyes were soft and her smile was wide, and Rhys really counted himself fortunate enough that such a stellar woman allowed him into her heart. She leaned down and kissed him again, this time slowly, allowing him to cup the back of her head and close his eyes, enjoying the plush shape of her lips. Her hat tumbled off, but she didn't seem to mind as she tilted her face to taste his mouth from a different angle. Her hands cupped his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheeks as his free hand smoothed down her back to settle in the dip of her waist.
She hummed pleasantly, kissing the corner of his mouth lightly as footsteps neared their position.
Fiona pulled away to gaze down at him with all the love she usually held in reserve, and Rhys found the he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. The old facility didn't exist, nor did the smelly carpet at his back, not even the sight of Sasha rounding the corner in his peripheral could get him to break away from his future bride's eyes.
Sasha stopped when her eyes landed on the couple laying in a pile of dirty rugs, and after a moment of assessing the situation, she turned right around and started heading back. August was following her, a curious expression crossing his face as he watched his wife back track towards him.
"Hey, you found 'em?"
"Yeah, let's go, they're fine," she answered, taking his arm and turning him around.
"What, were they like, indecent or somethin' like that?" he snorted, still not over the fact that a string bean nerd like Reese could get any action, period.
"Mmm, something like that," Sasha quipped, a secretive smile on her face.
The blonde snapped his attention down to her, his icy blue eyes wide with shock. "Eh?! No way- tell me, what arm was he usin'?"
The younger Pandoran leveled him with stoic lifted brow, her expression less than impressed.
"Sash, be honest. Was it the fleshy hand or the robo hand?"
She rolled her eyes, stepping carefully over some fallen debris littered on the floor. "You realize you're talking about my sister and best friend, right?"
"Well yeah, but-"
"August, darling?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up before I file for divorce."
"..."
When Rhys and Fiona had reunited with the couple, Sasha snagged her big sister in a tight embrace, congratulating her sincerely, and as the sisters quieted down, from the other side of the room they could hear August ask Rhys, "Since we're gonna be future brother-in-law's, how about you answer somethin' for me..."
"August!" The youngest sister shouted, shaking her head as both men jumped at the sound of her voice. "I swear, sometimes I feel like I gotta keep him on a leash..."
Fiona grinned, bumping her elbow against the smaller woman as she said, "Looks like you've gotta domestic him a bit more."
"Yeah? We'll see how you fare domesticating yours," she teased, poking her sister in the ribs.
"Rhys doesn't need..." The vault hunter trailed off, both Pandoran women watching as the company man wiggled his mechanical fingers, gesturing with his left hand towards it as he explained something in a low tone towards the blonde man, who was listening intently and nodding occasionally.
Fiona felt her face burn with a sudden heat as her fiancé flicked his wrist and a soft whirring of low vibrations filled the room. She felt her sister's pointed stare and realized that yeah, maybe Rhys did have some more domesticity training due... In the very near future.
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If you're looking for a spookier Halloween tale featuring our favorite otp, then may I offer up "A Man After Midnight" which features Rhys and Fiona facing off against some supernatural evil~ Also it's like five times longer than this so it should satisfy any creepy cravings you might have 😈
©rin-bellatrix 2023
☆ borderlands masterlist ⋆ main masterlist ☆
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Dungeons & Dragons: Keys from the Golden Vault - Mirrors by Katerina Ladon
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appri-dot · 9 days
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Woody has yaoi with Fencer
Lemmy has beef with Construct
Now I need oc interactive goobs for literally everyone else
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sillyandquiteawkward · 10 months
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lemme get back to you on that
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peeweekey · 1 month
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i visited idiot street and everyone knew your name!
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part i, part ii, part iii
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a/n: the well awaited end to this fic is here! enjoy :)
synopsis: the three times you friendzoned Alhaitham, and the one he made damn sure you didn't.
tags: alhaitham/reader ; school setting ; valentine's day special ; reader likes sewing, miscommunication
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It’s Valentine’s Day, and the most unusual thing to ever happen to you—happens.
A pristine white note falls out of your locker, and you never thought you would see the day. You’d assume, being a workaholic and being relegated to tasks (due to people pleasing tendencies you can’t seem to shake off), that you’d finish off the school year without falling victim to Valentine’s day sickeningly sweet confessions.
Please meet me in the homeroom lab after classes. – H
If it was any other day, you’d assume one of the teachers wrote you this note, and that you were going to be subjected to a ruthless talking-to. Yet, coincidentally, it’s that time of the year, and everyone else is getting notes like these too.
For the fun of it, you still decide to go where the note directs you. Mostly because you’re deathly curious to who this H person is. No expectations, of course.
When the dismissal bell rings, you quickly scramble out of your classroom, pointedly ignoring your friend’s confused call of your name. Leaving your bag and belongings behind. You’ll get back to her later—but now, the curiosity is killing you.
You navigate the sloppily decorated hallways; passing by lovestruck couples and through streamer paper decor of pinks, whites and reds. Cupid balloons and the overwhelmingly sweet scent of roses suffocate your senses.
The homeroom lab is at the end of the hallway, where all the decorations dwindle or are practically deflating with the lack of attention to detail—it irks you slightly, if this is a confession like you suspect, the surroundings could afford to be somewhat romantic. Not this cheap, unenthusiastic mess, it certainly wouldn’t be helping your case.
Your eyes lock onto one heart helium balloon, it drifts aimlessly across the floor—not enough to float up but not completely deflated. You glare at it, like trying to pop it with only your gaze, then to the door.
Steeling yourself, you take a breath then slide it open.
The last person you ever expect to be there, is there too.
“Alhaitham?” you ask, breathless and puzzled.
Was it him that sent you the note?
You shake that thought away, although you got your hopes up the tiniest bit, it’s probably unrelated to anything hearts themed. You’re pretty sure he’s been actively avoiding people confessing to him today. Maybe that’s why he hid in here, you muse.
“It’s me, yes,” he nods. “I assume you read my note?”
You laugh, shutting the homeroom lab door unceremoniously behind you. “That was you? Dude, you could’ve just told me, what’s with all the secrecy?”
“There’s something that I need to discuss with you.”
“Discuss with me,” you repeat, walking over to lean against the working table. Which, thank heavens, is pristinely clean. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” he responds and you hum in faux relief. “Though there is something else.”
Alhaitham produces a sleek black chocolate box from seemingly nowhere—or maybe you hadn't seen him hold it—and holds it out to you.
“Sweet!” you grin, snatching the chocolates and examining the box. “This is some really good chocolate, Haitham. Who gave you this one?”
“No one,” he says. Alhaitham picks at his black painted nails—ones that you yourself painted a few weeks ago in his apartment. The polish is immaculate, almost looking freshly painted if it weren’t for the new nail growth starting underneath. “Those are completely from me, for you.”
You double take, taking a long lingering look at the gift. On the smack middle of the box, is the same type of note from earlier in your locker, but this has your name written in elegant cursive:
Happy Valentines. It writes, and you feel strange tingles travel down your spine. Not entirely unpleasant.
“You shouldn’t have,” your eyes widen. “I didn’t get anything for you, I never thought we were getting each other friendship chocolates!”
There’s a lengthy pause before you hear any reaction from him. Alhaitham makes a strangled noise from deep in his throat. “Friendship chocolates?”
He stresses your name, while massaging his temples. “...I wrote you that note, I waited in here for you and have the audacity to think what I gave you are friendship chocolates. Does that sound logical to you?”
“Of course,” you snort, putting down the chocolates to rest on the low table. “The only other reason I can think of would be because you like me, which I doubt—”
His lips flatten in unamusement. “So what if I do?”
“Wait, what?”
He inhales deeply, and you swear you see the slightest hints of pink on his ears that peek from underneath silver hair. The silence now is absolutely deafening, and the anticipation even more so. To you, the knowledge of his bashfulness makes the situation feel all the more real.
Alhaitham utters your name softly, like he’s pleading you to understand so that he needn’t repeat himself. Which he never does, the damn prideful man.
You’d make a teasing remark if you weren’t so frozen with nerves, the sound of your name from his lips is causing ticklish shivers up your spine. It sounds so intimate when he says it.
Like a secret, even. Although Alhaitham might be the most self-preserving and unambitious person you know, when it comes to the things that matter to him—he takes initiative right away.
“So you like me–” you breathe, the button up collar of your shirt feels all too tight all of a sudden, you tangle your fingers together and squeeze tightly. “Like, like like me?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you,” he sighs, low and long-suffering. “For three whole years.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Your eyes widen and you feel a low simmering heat spreading all over, even till your fingertips. You recall all the other times, past Valentine's days and recounting his strange behavior. All the dots start to connect together and you wonder how you never noticed. “What the hell.”
“So that one time last year when you were offering me your button—” you gasp. You remember, it’s a stupid highschool tradition, a boy would offer the second button of his uniform to a girl if he liked her. It’s the closest to the heart, but to you, it’s a thoughtless way to ruin perfectly good clothing. “Haitham, did you ask Kaveh for advice or something?”
“Matters like these are irrelevant to argue with him about,” he scoffs. Alhaitham folds his arms across his chest. “He ran off and came to the conclusion himself. Ever since then, he’s been bothering me with trying all types of confession tradition.”
Laughter starts to bubble out of you, disbelieving and flustered to the maximum level. “Dude, I basically friendzoned you and had no idea! You should’ve told me.”
His shoulders stiffen and he gives you such a disarmingly attractive look. And if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks the teensiest bit hopeful too. Right now, you feel like your heart is beating right out of your goddamn chest. The sound is so loud, the quickening thumping sound of your chest that you swear he might hear it too.
“...I see that now,” he says, his expression is exasperated—but so unbelievably soft. You feel yourself melting like butter under his gaze. “Though I am disappointed in your lacking ability to identify context clues.”
“Oh whatever,” you bump your shoulder against his, though you don’t move back away. The warmth of him is all consuming and comforting as hell, you could burrow yourself in him and never resurface, you think. He accepts your closeness with a strong arm wrapping behind you to hold you by the hand. Your stomach does somersaults in your stomach. “It’s all your fault. You’re an idiot for not telling it to me straight.”
“Does that mean you reciprocate?” he murmurs, leaning closer to whisper in your ear.
You pull back enough to take the box of chocolates, opening it and popping one in your mouth. “This chocolate is pretty good. Guess I’ll have to let you stick around for more.”
I like you too.
He nuzzles into you, leaving a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. “I guess you do, don’t you?”
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astraoid · 4 months
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Been knee deep in Baldurs gate brainrot so have some doodles of my Tiefling Lore Bard/Thief Tav :DD Her names Caph!
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Gods I love inconsistent artstyle 🤣
Credit to Mellon_Soup on TikTok + Patreon for the pose I used in the first picture! It was really fun to reference and they make tons of awesome poses to ref! Here’s the link to their TikTok account, the pose I used is in vid “Pose Ref 104-107” :D https:/www.tiktok.com/@mellon_soup?_t=8iPYkNmyWOH&_r=1
Here’s an older ✨amazing qualityTM✨ picture of her off a TV screen 😂 This was taken early on into playthrough with her! :>
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ethereal-bumble-bee · 2 months
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My friend just sent me a screenshot of a tumblr post I MADE SHE DOESNT KNOW IM ON TUMBLR IM SOBBING
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rodimissliveblogs · 4 months
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So far in the lore of this playthrough, Astarion's made two grand gestures of affection toward Mae, which are 1. breaking into the Baldur's Mouth building and stopping the newspaper from slandering her, and 2. robbing an entire bank because she's been complaining about being broke all the time.
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gottabescientific · 9 days
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Also for the love of God please get a new producer all your songs sound exactly the same now
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