dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

highly new, slightly improved open post

assorted morons

optional prompts/ideas

☆ caught in the rain meme
☆ little steps meme
☆ affectionate physical contact meme
☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy
☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU
☆ melodrama is ultimate tier
★ SHIPPING AND FUCC:
☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh
☆ things I am not into: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character
☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty
☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

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[He'd honestly forgotten the name of the pony, so as much as that question was genuinely intended to tease, the answer brings with it a rush of memories that feel so far away it's as if they happened to someone else. It was another lifetime, wasn't it, that they'd been children and Felix had always been at his heels, and would burst into messy tears the moment he thought he'd be left behind—

The way he was after Duscur, Dimitri thinks darkly. The way he was after their year at the monastery— those years in between are ones Felix will never tell him about except to detail the things that happened because he was too busy being a beast in the shadows, or whatever Felix wants to call it these days, and Dimitri can't say he doesn't deserve that. Guilt threatens to darken the morning again, to slide over his shoulders like a second cloak he can never be rid of, and Dimitri only sighs and shakes his head— for all intents and purposes in response to Felix's fussing. Like, it is a bit, anyway...

It's fine. The morning is bright, the air is crisp, they're out here together and if Dimitri squints, he can almost imagine that the village they're riding toward is one undamaged by war, and that the two of them are unspoiled by their mutual tragedies. He doesn't want to be the thing that ruins his morning, either!

So. The ride is nice, and the preliminary trip through the village is... sobering, but in a way that feels productive the way looking at endless charts and lists of numbers in supply documents doesn't. They leave the horses and evaluate the village on foot, and yes, there's an awful lot of villagers grabbing Dimitri's hands and thanking him with tears in their eyes, and even a few scrappy children who trot diligently after Felix, but it's still better than whatever the Count and his court are getting up to right about now. Breakfast and being furious at the pair of them, most likely.

But a woman in the village mentions bandits, and her son being missing, and that's the rest of the morning as far as Dimitri is concerned. It's time to march back into the woods, which is... surprisingly not productive? In due time Dimitri stops to look around, like, surely there are no bandits out here that can be this good. Not enough to avoid the two of them, so...]

I have not seen anything suspicious yet, [he says, and that is suspicious in itself, but hmm!!] Perhaps her son ran away from home...

[Grim, but like, more awkward-family-problems grim than kidnapping grim.]

[The ride is nice, and the village they visit is... all that Felix expects it to be, honestly. He trails behind Dimitri, working to keep his expression impassive as he notes the condition of the buildings, of the people staring wide-eyed at their king. When did Count Rowe last ride through? Has he ever ridden through? And maybe, just maybe, there's a twinge of guilt that accompanies this thought, given how long it's been since his last visit to his own territory, but he receives frequent reports; Count Rowe, it would seem, does not, and thus... bandits!

...Bandits. He doesn't even bother to disguise his scoff when he hears this bit of news, because as if he needed even more of a reason to dislike the lazy, lazy noble entrusted with protecting this corner of the kingdom. Not that it's about duty! Not really. It's about defenseless people looking for—needing—protection, and so Felix doesn't argue when Dimitri insists upon heading into the forest to find the boy and his alleged captors. He should, perhaps; like, he could think of several solid reasons to object—but he doesn't, because the two of them are more than capable of handling such basic enemies.

And could there be several selfish somethings to this? Oh, of course. He's eager to be back in the thick of it, after spending so many moons suffering through meeting after meeting; he's eager to bring this bit of news to the count's attention, staring him down as the the man tries (and fails) to save face; he's eager to remain alongside Dimitri, watching more and more life creep into him as they continue moving, continue doing.

But god damn, if this eerily empty forest isn't making all of those somethings difficult. Felix, impatient at the best of times, clicks his tongue in response to Dimitri's brilliant deduction.]

Likely, [he mutters, brushing past Dimitri just to come to a stop a foot or so ahead of him.] Fitting. The king and his advisor, charging in like fools...

[Letting Stuff and Things get in the way of better judgment! Damn! Just another day for Dimitri, perhaps, but Felix glares at the ground, scuffing the toe of his boot across the forest floor to judge the ease with which tracks can be made. He... is supposed to be better than this; he... is going to take this personally, if they find neither hide nor hair of bandits. He's a pissy Idiot.]

A waste of time.

[Hmm.]

[Felix... please. Dimitri watches him Take it Personally, crossing his arms and frowning. It's disappointing to come out here needlessly, yes, but it's much less disappointing to confirm that there... aren't bandits so close to the village? Well— that or the wayward son has since joined said bandits himself, willingly, and they've all left. That situation would be one they have to deal with, but for the time being, there's no real evidence that anyone has passed through here in the past day or two besides the pair of them.

But Felix is taking it personally, so.]

Like fools?

[Really? Really. Come on.]

Do you believe that villager wanted to shame us by sending us on a fruitless chase? How is it a waste to consider the feelings of a mother separated from her son?

[Be reasonable, my guy. It would be worse to ignore her, or to throw a couple soldiers at the problem and call it done, the way Count Rowe might if he ever bothered to come out this far— Maybe they've wasted time, but Dimitri doesn't think it foolish to take a look around...]

No one is calling you a fool except you, Felix.

[Somewhere far, far away, Ingrid is nodding her approval—and somewhere, far, far closer, Felix is shifting his attention from the ground to Dimitri's face, hand going right to his hip. It's not that he doesn't care? It never is, given the depth of Felix's emotions, but it's... well, he's always been practical; as an advisor, he's expected to be even more so, and he is, without a doubt, his own harshest critic. They have so much ground to cover! They have so little time to do so! They weren't meant to handle every problem they came across today!

But here they are, anyway. Two idiots alone in the woods, as far as Felix sees it—and so he scowls. He's never been one to shy away from a fight.]

Because I am one. I stood there and watched as you agreed to... this.

[He lifts his free hand hand, gesturing vaguely at their very forest-y surroundings. A bird is probably chirping somewhere. This!!]

Rowe's men are less than a day away. We could have sent for them, or I could have handled this alone. [While Dimitri continued talking with the people? Agreed to even more things? ...Whew. A sigh, and then:] You're the king, Dimitri. Are you planning to search for every lost son, when you're already so—

[...Well. There are a thousand ways to end that sentence, but he closes his map with a snap, allowing the silence to just, ah, awkwardly hang there.]

[And to think, they were having a decent morning before the inevitable arguing. Dimitri is tired already; he moves to lean against the nearest tree trunk, ready to be here for a while as Felix works out whatever this new problem is. Does he have a point, should they have delegated this task to someone else? ...Maybe. But can a king not speak directly to his people? Dimitri has no guidelines for this; everyone who could have advised him- either of them- with real, lived experience is... well.

So he follows his heart and Felix just lets him, and perhaps they are both to blame for that, but standing around in a forest clearing arguing about it isn't productive either, is it... All the same, if he will stop to listen to anyone complain that they've wasted their time, it's Felix...

He's quiet for a moment.]

It isn't just a lost son, [is what he comes up with eventually, spoken without any hint of argument. He doesn't want to fight, actually! He would rather not argue about this! Yet it would be remiss of him not to engage at all, so he speaks simply, stating his case: it's more than the one boy. It's the bandits (or lack thereof); the people's faith in them, in him; the way it feels backwards and wrong to look a mother in the eye and tell her to wait patiently and someone else will deal with her son when the paperwork clears...

He sighs shortly, looking down at the dirt. Hmm. Well.

Alright,] Already so what? What am I now?

[Of course it isn't just a lost son, Felix thinks. It's that helping here sets a precedent; it's that even the smallest problem comes with, like, twenty more problems attached; it's that they, as a pair, are one inexperienced king and his inexperienced advisor, and as little as Felix cares for politics, he remembers enough of his father's lessons to know that change doesn't come without a cost. They need to be better in every way? A step ahead of everything.

...Things were, in a sense, easier during the war. Felix is so much better at taking down enemies than keeping track of all of this, but he has an important reason to try? And said reason is, hmm, currently staring at the dirt, asking questions Felix wishes he wouldn't, and really, whose fault is that. For someone who prides himself on his control, that slip was...

Well! Whatever! It isn't just fights; Felix refuses to shy away from anything, which is why he lifts his chin, studying Dimitri for a moment before he decides to be as blunt as ever.]

Exhausted.

[A beat, just to let that sink in, before he continues right along.]

Everyone expects you to be something. Even myself, [he adds, somewhat bitterly, not so caught up as to not recognize his own role in all of this. Like he wasn't just pushing Dimitri to be a certain way, to do certain things.] But you expect yourself to be everything. You push yourself to make up for—

[This isn't Felix cutting himself off; this is Felix trying—and failing!—to find the proper words for those lost years before he once again throws a hand into the air. He's trying. He means what he says, even though he's aware that there are things Dimitri refuses to do, things Dimitri argues for or against. It's not that Dimitri is some mindless people-pleaser; it's that Felix still sees so much guilt driving him, and he loathes it for so many reasons.

And you know, he could say something about how, if Dimitri continues pushing himself to the edge, the country will run terribly without a king. Fractures will form, the center will not hold, etc—but he looks at Dimitri's face and his own expression flickers, softens the slightest bit. No. The kingdom is important, yes, but.]

Do you think anyone is prepared to lose you again?

[Anyone? Him, a not-so-small part of him knows that he means. This is selfish, and dramatic, and yet.]

[Oh. Exhausted. Well. That's true enough; Dimitri has been exhausted for nearly a decade now, he thinks, in one way or another. Even now the ghosts of their shared past linger in his periphery, just out of the forefront of here and now— waiting. Waiting for him to slip up, to fail again, to fall back into the monster he let himself become for all those years before Felix and everyone else pulled him (with, ahem, varying degrees of gentleness) out of that darkness. They always will lurk there, he knows, and it takes so much of his energy to stay one step ahead of that, of himself, to say nothing of the rest of the kingdom.

So, okay. Felix is right. Dimitri can't help the laugh that comes out, more a puff of breath than anything else; his laugh is as tired as the rest of him. Felix is right about all of it! How does it feel to be right this time, old friend?

Dimitri glances up at him, holding his gaze in silence for a moment while he studies Felix's face, taking in that expression, the drama...

And he looks down again, brow furrowed.]

I do not know how else to be, [comes his quiet reply, honest in a way he holds back from most. Unfiltered through any of the masks he's picked up or had forced upon him, frank in the same way he's told Felix that, yes, the monster and the man are both him, regrettable as it may be. Regrettable as this is, now.

He kind of hoped he'd last a little longer before his behavior threatened to burn him out for, like, the third time... How disappointing.]

And I don't know how to stop. Still, Felix— I know the damage I've caused, and that my word may not mean much, but I will not leave you again.

[And everyone else, etc, that's obviously implied. Only Felix is in front of him now, clearly having... some emotions about all of this, and it's crossed Dimitri's mind before that Felix could tire of him one day and leave Dimitri behind, as unlikely as it truly sounds. That's what inspires Dimitri's own selfish and dramatic line, anyway:]

If I'm going to do this right, it won't be alone. I need you.

[Being right feels shitty, thanks! Not because Felix regrets making this particular point; he does, in fact, lift his chin as Dimitri studies him, as fiercely unapologetic as he's ever been, but the moment Dimitri's attention shifts downward—ah. Ha. Younger Felix would have undoubtedly felt a flash of self-righteousness; older Felix, however, feels oddly drained, because it's difficult to take pride in landing even the lightest of blows these days. Sometimes it's necessary to point out this or that; sometimes it's, ah, less about necessity and more about him failing to hold himself back, but no matter the reason(s), this isn't how he wants things to be. He wants...

Well. Part of what he wants is what Dimitri says, although hearing it prompts a hot stab of something akin to shame—and no small amount of annoyance, really. Directed at himself, for failing to keep his emotions in check, but also at this man who would rather study the dirt than the person he's addressing. Is it guilt? Is it shame? Perhaps it doesn't matter at this point in time, because hearing Dimitri say that his word means little, seeing him act as though it's a foregone conclusion, is bad enough in and of itself. Like he knows how Felix feels, or what Felix thinks. Ridiculous.

Or: Not so ridiculous, given the many, many things Felix has said in the past. Hmm. He closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, pressing his lips into a thin line before he releases an audible breath. Lowly:]

I know that. Why do you think I'm here?

[In this forest, on this tour, spending more time back in Fhirdiad than his own duchy—always by Dimitri's side. He can pretend it's for the kingdom, but they both know how he's always viewed duty; the simple, slightly selfish truth is that he's here... for Dimitri. To ensure that he never, ever slips away again, and so Felix takes a step closer. And then another. And then another. Closing this gap between them, bit by bit.]

You tell me that I'm needed, [he says, quietly cross, as he comes to a stop a mere foot from Dimitri, tilts his head back to peer up at him through narrowed eyes.] You give me your word, but you can't even bring yourself to look at me.

[Look at him! Look him in the eye, because damn, but he wants to believe Dimitri.]

[Anyone hearing the same thing enough times will start to believe it to be true, and Dimitri is far from the exception to that rule; of course, for him it's mostly been the voices of the dead hammering at the back of his skull for years and years, convincing him for so long that his only reason for living was to seek revenge. Still: while he appreciates, on the most basic level, Felix's ability to tell him no when he needs it, to metaphorically slap his hands away from the worst of his habits, there's still... Well.

What is his word worth, after all these years of falling apart, in one way or another? He never kept his many promises to his father, to Glenn, to everyone— and the part of him that knows now that he never had to is at constant war with the part that screams back that maybe he should have anyway.

So, yes, alright: Felix being so persistently hard on him has gotten to him, whether he believes wholly in Felix's, ah, methods or not. It's not one of their faults more than the other; Felix could stand to relax and Dimitri could stand to do less brooding, less stewing in misery and shame— but it is what it is. He's still looking at the ground when Felix speaks again, and feels another jolt of something heavy and miserable when he's... not quite corrected.

Know that this only builds the more Felix says, making his expression twist into a guilty frown, but ah— he blinks, realizing only when Felix is finally in front of him that he's actually moved, and looking up automatically— out of surprise, really. It's Felix's accusation that holds Dimitri's gaze on his face, though the upset set of his mouth really does betray how much he would love to look at the ground again.

So... hey? Childishly, Dimitri wishes he could express everything he feels about this and about Felix just by looking at him, without having to put it to words that will be poked and prodded and judged before the mess that is his heart is given a fighting chance. He doesn't know what to say! He never has! No one who could have taught him lived long enough to do that, so—]

I miss you, [he says, clumsily, and it must be relative proximity to Felix that determines just how many childish things he's willing to blurt out like that without thinking. Surely he doesn't need to specify what he means...] And I'm sorry.

[That, too, can stand on its own without redundant explanation. Felix is too close, not for comfort, just— Dimitri can't help himself from lifting a hand to touch his cheek, thumb brushing high over his cheekbone and resting there without pulling away.

He probably could have waited until he had his gloves off to do this, but here they are.]

I want to be someone the people can be proud of. [The people, the living ones, not the dead at last.] That... includes you, Felix.

[Boy does it ever!!]

Edited 2020-02-05 23:43 (UTC)

[Felix coming closer is an act of defiance, in a way. A stubborn refusal to be ignored, because while this is wasting even more of their limited time, Dimitri isn't allowed to make such a promise unless he genuinely wants to keep it. Felix won't accept anything less. It's two parts pride, after everything Felix has been through with—because of—the boar, and three parts... well. How many times can his oldest friend hurt him, unintentionally or no? How many times will Felix let him? And it's deeper than that, more complicated than that, but as Felix holds Dimitri's eye, it's that vague thought that sends him steeling himself for whatever is to come.

Not that it matters. I miss you, Dimitri says, most unexpectedly—and those three simple words crash through Felix's defenses with such terrifying ease, strike him with such force. Even the apology that follows seems quieter, somehow, sparking only the smallest something within him as his back stiffens. There are so many ways to hurt others, Felix knows. So, so many, and as Dimitri brings his hand up, touches Felix's face so gently, Felix considers whether or not this is the cruelest method yet. He could choke.

Could. Nearly does, even when his wary self recognizes that this person he knows so well is being entirely earnest, but—ah. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, resisting the inexplicable urge to lean into that touch as he wonders why, exactly, he's always expected to be proud of someone. Most of them are dead, and so, before he can help himself: a flicker of annoyance, just because he's always been better at being angry than being vulnerable. A bitter question.]

Is that what I want?

[Someone trying so, so hard to be someone they believe he could, or maybe should, be proud of. It's fair, he supposes; after all, he is always after him for some thing or another, but while that is undeniably selfish, it's... a different type of selfish.]

Your people are proud of you, [he says shortly, curling his fingers around Dimitri's wrist and telling himself it's so he can pull that hand away—but it isn't, but he doesn't.] Of course they are. You would give them everything, Savior King.

[And it's not what Dimitri is saying here. Not precisely. He has miles to go before he sleeps, etc, etc—but there is a line to be drawn between the people and Felix, if Felix has any say in the matter. He is not to be lumped in with the rest, so.]

But I don't want you to be anything for me. I don't want your apology. I want— [Everything and nothing at all, hence Felix's huff—the slight warmth in his cheeks—as he fails to find the proper words. Time to flip it all back around, voice a touch quieter as he asks:] Why do you think I searched for you, Dimitri?

[Because he missed Dimitri desperately, even when Dimitri was, according to so many others, right in front of him; because he misses Dimitri still, which is perhaps why he his fingers tighten around Dimitri's wrist as he pointedly says Dimitri's name. Surely he doesn't need to explain that, after his stupid speech—just like he surely doesn't need to tell Dimitri to keep his hand precisely where it is. It's irresponsible, and needy, and in this moment he does not care.]

[Is nothing easy... Anyone else might grow tired right here and now; tired of Felix never being satisfied, tired of trying and coming up against a new wall every time. But Dimitri is held together solely by the constancy of his friends, Felix included, and so the uncertainty of just how much of Felix's constant protesting he deserves is offset by the earnest desire to see him safe and happy. Like the others, like the people but also not, as Felix remains in a sphere of his own if only because he's prickly...

Well, not only. Dimitri can frown mildly at him and bite back his frustration and still want to give Felix whatever he wants if it will just make him happy finally, for once— That isn't the point, he knows. Felix hardly has to keep speaking after his first question, definitely doesn't have to address him with the Savior King moniker, for Dimitri to understand. They've known each other too deeply and for too long for him to need clarification, even if the people they were as children are gone.

Picking up the pieces is not going to be easy- already isn't, but Dimitri is standing here in the woods cupping Felix's face, keeping him close because he can't let Felix slip through his fingers again. Or is it the other way around? Is it both? It's everything at once and it makes him sigh, shutting his eye while he collects his thoughts into some semblance of meaning. Dimitri, Felix says, and the sound of his name in Felix's mouth and the press of fingers around his wrist are enough.

Enough for what is something he hasn't yet determined, but enough. Felix is right in front of him and his heart still aches, but he'll work on it. Eventually, because all he wants to do right now is think about the warmth of Felix's hand and the slightest bit of color in his cheeks, and goddamn it, why must everything happen so much?]

I know, [is what he comes up with eventually, opening his eye again and taking in everything he can of Felix's face this close, in case he pulls away in the end anyway.] I know, I...

[...Well, put a pin in another apology. He's not the Dimitri that Felix went searching for, objectively, but,]

You found me.

[And he's grateful? Of course he is, which is why he brings his other hand up to Felix's shoulder, resting there for a second before he tugs him closer to envelop him in a clumsy hug. He doesn't know how to do these, either, please be patient and don't kick him...]

[There's something to be said about constantly being on the offense? About Felix always seeking to land the first blow, like every interaction is a fight he needs to win—and every victory will force others to see him for who he is, but. At the end of the day, it's a stupid, exhausting way to live one's life, and a part of Felix knows this. The war is won; his father is gone; there is no one in this world he needs to fight.

But he's not quite sure how else to be, especially when it comes to Dimitri. It isn't about paying Dimitri back for every perceived slight, or forcing Dimitri to make up for past wrongs, or anything like that; it's just... it's about loving someone so, so deeply, but knowing that it isn't enough to fix everything. That it's impossible to fix everything. That he doesn't always know what to do.

That's the heart of so many of their problems, isn't it: Felix doesn't always know what to do. He certainly doesn't know what to do now, as Dimitri tugs him into an awkward embrace, and it's—he should hate it! He should! He should shrug that hand away before flying backwards...

...And yet it's the clumsiness that gets him. The familiarity of it. The realization that he did indeed spend years looking for Dimitri, and now that Dimitri is here, this is the closest they've been. Why? What's held him back, aside from his own pride, his own uncertainty? Now it's his turn to stand here, stiffly, and feel so incredibly tired. You found me, Dimitri says, but did he... did he...]

No, [he murmurs, feeling some of the tension eke out of him as he presses his forehead against Dimitri's chest, allows himself to slowly sink into him.] You came back.

[Not all of him, no—but so much of him is still here, warm and solid, and Felix brings his free hand up to curl his fingers in the fabric of Dimitri's coat. Tightly. Something he did a thousand times, when they were younger and he never, ever wanted to leave Dimitri's side.]

[Ah— so this is what that's like. To be met with no resistance, only acceptance; it may have been a lifetime ago but Dimitri can recall with clarity the way things were when they were children, inseparable, ready to take on the world if it came down to it. This is not that, not really— this has nothing to do with the world and everything to do with Felix, vulnerable in his arms the way he used to be, back when he was a little crybaby and Dimitri remembered how to smile like it was nothing. Some knot in his chest loosens, some tension crumbles away, and as he bows his head to shamelessly bury his nose in Felix's hair and sigh, he feels like— they're going to be okay.

Eventually. They have to get back to their responsibilities sooner or later, but maybe Count Rowe can do his own job for once while the king and his adviser hold each other close in the middle of the forest and forget about the rest. That sounds... kind of nice.

After a moment Dimitri lifts his head, rather than mumble into Felix's hair,] Well, yes, but— I did have help, and...

[And even this much warmth from Felix makes his serious, kingly attitude go straight to pieces. He clears his throat. Whew...]

In any case, you know what I'm trying to say.

[He always has, hasn't he? Rather than babble himself into a corner, Dimitri hums and settles his arm more firmly around Felix's shoulders. Cling to him at your leisure, sir, he's here for it.]

I wouldn't mind staying like this for a little while longer.

[There are fifty reasons not to do this, ranging from the very things he was just bitching about to the fact that he hasn't allowed himself to be this open, this vulnerable, in an incredibly long time, but—ah, well. Felix feels a sudden, familiar tightness behind his eyes, and he squeezes them shut, allowing the world to narrow to the rumble of Dimitri's voice. He's just close enough to feel every word he speaks, and it's... comforting, in a strange way. Proof that this is real.

...And perhaps he should be more concerned about that. Perhaps he will be, come tomorrow, but for now Dimitri tightens his hold and Felix sighs, so quietly as to be inaudible. What is he doing right here, right now? What does he want? He both does and does not know, really, but he's too emotionally drained to give anything more thought than is absolutely necessary; it's enough to just exist, for the moment. To selfishly soak in Dimitri's warmth, his grip on Dimitri's coat tightening as he takes in a deep breath. Another familiar, (embarrassingly) comforting thing: Dimitri's scent. He smells of winter air and horse and him, and despite himself, Felix presses even closer.

He's not one to back away from a fight. He's never afraid to start a fight, either, and yet, rather than attempt to circle back to the much more serious topic of a few minutes ago—hmm. Dimitri is stupidly warm and stupidly comfortable and Felix's eyes are still tightly shut, so. One thing at a time.]

Of course you wouldn't, [he grumbles into Dimitri's chest, very much aware that he is part of the problem here? That he isn't planning to pull away any time soon.] And what will you tell them, when the entire village comes looking for you?

[Well. For both of them, but it isn't Felix the people adore.]

[Yes, the new plan to stand here and hold Felix is progressing nicely... Felix sinks in closer and Dimitri feels a warmth he hasn't felt in years, the simple comfort of being close to someone he loves this much. Still, he can't help but flounder, silently, at the very thought - he loves Felix? Of course he loves Felix, without him there is a hole in his heart too great to patch over with distractions and the smiling faces of the people, but— well. Beyond the simple truth that of course he does, he isn't sure if he knows how to love someone properly.

Or if he should. Or if he deserves Felix's affections here and now; not that he would push him away for anything in the world, but oh boy. Oh, Goddess.

He tilts his head down again when Felix speaks anyway, as if he honestly needs to speak in hushed, private tones... all alone out here in the woods. Endure him.]

I will tell them it was your idea. [Ha Ha Ha] Ah, no... they won't come looking as long as they believe bandits roam these woods.

[They're like, angry farmers at best? No one is coming along to interrupt them anytime soon. Dimitri shifts his hand up to touch Felix's cheek, brush aside a few loose strands of hair... hmm!]

It might be selfish, but for now... you and I have time. I can hardly recall the last time we had any, can you?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

highly new, slightly improved open post

hmmm i cannot do that

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how many tags until we make it soft

maybe if flex would just accept his innate tenderness

a tsun's gotta tsun... the tsun before the soft...

you imply the tsun will end? don't lie

eternal tsunshine... embrace it

hmm don't care for that

just call him tsunderella

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i didn't upload any awkward dingus icons, who am i

a foole... dima deserves 100 of em, at least

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