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zhonks · 1 year

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- Valse sentimentale - Fyodor D. x ballerina!fem!reader

When Fyodor meets a charming girl who asks him to play cello for her

Words : 1414

Warning : none

Tags : fluff ? She/her!reader Falling in love/ love at first sight, cringe and cliché, Mentioned Nikolai, tried to make it romantic. Maybe a little bit OOC.

A/N: There will probably be some mistakes in this fic I apologize! English isn’t my first language 🩷

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Fyodor wasn’t the type interested in romantic relationships, that was before he met her, in a music shop. He was searching for a recording of his favorite Tchaikovsky songs when his shoulder bumped into hers, causing him to drop the CD he was holding. She apologized immediately, worried she could have hurt him.

“- Oh ! I’m so sorry ! Are you okay ? Wait let me get that for you!”

Before he could even respond she was kneeling to fetch all of the fallen CDs.

“- No need to apologize dear, I should’ve been more careful” he lowered his head, bowing a bit as to excuse himself.

She handed him the CDs, allowing Fyodor to see what music she had purchased, he smiled :

“-Tchaikovsky, huh ? Good taste”

She glanced at his pick,

“-So you’re also a fan ?” She laughed.

“-I guess you could say that” he retrieved the CDs from her hands.

The girl felt a chill go up her spine as her hand brushed his, of course, he noticed she tensed up at his touch.

“-I actually really enjoy playing the cello myself, Tchaikovsky’s works are definitely my favorite to play. Just the way his pieces move and speak to your emotions is just incredible.” He continued.

“-Ah really ? That’s awesome ! For how long have you been playing ?” She asked excitedly.

“-A really long time, he said with a breathy laugh, perhaps over 10 years now.

-10 years ? Wow that’s so so so amazing ! I’m sorry I’m just really happy to meet someone who enjoys cello as much as I do!

-Do you play yourself ? He asked curiously

-No, hahaha, actually I’m a ballerina” the girl smiled.

“-you know what ? Maybe we should do something together someday!” She continued.

Fyodor’s eyebrows rose, his interest was picked.

“-Dancing with a beautiful ballerina is something I would definitely be a fan of,

he said with a grin, it seemed he really enjoyed the idea of that,

Do you perform at dance shows? I’d definitely love to come and see you dance.”

She looked away in embarrassment, slightly blushing from his words :

“-I’m not, I’m more of a solo type of dancer… Sorry if this sounds weird, I was thinking about maybe just meeting up.. the two of us ?”

He could tell by her flushed face that she was clearly flustered, this made his heart flutter with joy. The idea of a pretty girl like her dancing for him made him so happy. It was almost too good to be true. He just couldn't help himself, he was truly in love with this idea, even if he indeed thought she was a bit naive, asking such a thing to a complete stranger. Luckily for her, he had no ill intentions.

“-Yes, please. I would absolutely love that.”

“-Cool ! I’m so happy ! I’ll let you know when I’m ready is that okay with you!”

she said fidgeting with her skirt

“-Yes, that is more than okay with me. I will be waiting, just let me know when you are ready.”

he said in a warm and understanding tone.

The two of them exchanged numbers before parting ways.

Fyodor’s heart felt strangely light the days following their encounter. That was so out of character that Nikolai noticed immediately during the decay of angels’ usual meetings.

“-Dostoy, you seem out of it these days ? Did something happen” the clown asked, leaning over the table.

His chin resting in his hands, he answered blankly:

“-No, nothing. Let’s focus on the meeting shall we”

Of course he was lying. She asked him to meet just after the meeting and his usual icy heart felt like it was slowly melting from the inside every time she came in his mind. Everything about her, her bubbly and charming personality, her beautiful hair swaying in the wind, her eyes sparkling when she smiled. She was just oh so lovely, he couldn’t believe he was feeling this way towards another human being. She must’ve been an angel, sent for him down on this filthy earth and he was the only person who could protect her from the disgusting corruption of this world. The meeting came to an end, Fyodor adjusted his coat on his shoulders and politely excused himself. Leaving Nikolai even more suspicious, as Fyodor usually wasn’t the first person to leave.

They had agreed to meet in an abandoned church near the music shop where they met. When he arrived, the girl was already waiting at the door, typing nervously on her phone.

“-Hi there my dear [name]” he smiled

“-Fyodor ! Hi !” She greeted back.

She was holding a bag in which he assumed was her point shoes. She had black tights under black shorts, her top was a sleeveless black leotard.

She was really fearless, such a pretty girl meeting a stranger in this part of town during night. He admired her boldness but worried about what could’ve happened to her if she came to someone else instead of him a few days prior.

Once inside, she took a few minutes to warm up and get her point shoes on, when she came back to Fyodor, he was waiting sat on a chair with the cello he had previously been carrying on his back resting between his legs.

The moment she came back into the room he could feel his heart racing in his chest from the pure infatuation he felt for her at that moment. She was so stunning and beautiful, she left him speechless. Fyodor was hypnotized by her, He couldn't quite describe it; even if he were to try. She was definitely an angel.

She was playing nervously with her hair ;

“-So what song should we do ?” She asked.

Fyodor got the impression that she was more than a little flustered at the moment, he could tell from the look she gave him.

“-How about... you pick?”

He said in a warm voice, looking her in the eyes as he smiled lovingly. Her blush was so beautiful, he found himself so enamored by her beauty. Just looking at her left him in awe. He didn't know what she chose, but he was excited to see her dance to any music. She took a minute to think, then her eyes glowed as she answered with a lovely smile :

“-Do you know Valse sentimentale ?”

Fyodor chuckled softly :

“-Yes I do, it is one of my favorite songs to play.”

“-Awesome !” She responded happily.

As she got in position, he warmed up a bit, sliding the bow delicately on the chords. The church’s high ceiling made its sound resonate beautifully in the building.

When they were both ready, they looked at each other. Fyodor counted :

“-3, 4..”

He began to play the song. His soft fingers danced across the strings and his bow flowed gently across the chords of the cello as he played beautifully. Fyodor was just so immersed in the music and how the ballerina in front of him accompanied the notes, she was uniting with the melody, her movements were mesmerizing. The piece he was playing was just so beautiful, almost as much as her. In this moment, everything felt so perfect, the way both of them were so lost in the music, the sight of her dancing, the sound of the cello, it all just was truly beautiful.

The music ended, she looked up at him with a smile. They stared at each other for a bit before she adverted her eyes.

“-That was truly beautiful, I mean it” he complimented. Her cheeks heated up at his kind words.

“-Your music also is, it’s unbelievable how good you make it sound”

The whole situation was truly magical.

“-You are like a flower, so beautiful and elegant. There aren't enough words to describe your beauty. Your mere touch is enough to make my whole soul feel alive my dear” Fyodor smiled lovingly, as he took her hand in his, causing her brain to disconnect, she felt like she was going to explode.

“-So that’s what you were thinking about during the meeting Dostoy, why didn’t you tell me it was all about this cutie right here” a teasing voice echoed on the rock walls of the silent church.

They turned their heads towards the origins of that voice. A certain white haired clown grinned at the two of them from across the room.

#💜🐦‍⬛-Fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #bsd fyodor #fyodor headcanons #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #fyodor fluff #bsd x you #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #Spotify

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sgtmickeyslaughter · 4 months

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Weekly Tag Wednesdayyy

Hi @energievie @mmmichyyy @spookygingerr @lingy910y @jrooc and @mickeym4ndy !

name: gigi

your time zone: est

favorite food: ive truly never met a soup i didn't like, but my favorite is pho. the absolute artistry behind creating a piping hot soup designed for a warm climate that actually cools you down with the power of herbs alone? stunning

your eye color: brown + green

do you have curly, wavy, or straight hair? bone straight and very stubborn about it

coffee or tea? coffee

you can only listen to one album for the rest of your life. which album is it? im going to say illinoise by sufjan stevens, i saw the play version last month and i highly highly recommend it its so beautiful

how many countries have you visited? korea, india, japan, mexico and canada next week if the canucks make it to round 7 (fingers crossed)

favorite social media platform (other than tumblr): instagram? I guess? I used to like chatting on reddit but the vibes are less than ideal so i chat with people here :)

if you had to be reincarnated as an animal, what animal would you want to be? a tiny, colorful bird on an island. no predators, just flitting around a forest

relationship status: very recently single :,( really tragic circumstances but ultimately amicable so we will remain great friends. i have had some pretty ridiculous breakups tho so maybe ill work those into a fic someday

did you go to college? if so, what did you study? yes, I went to an arts institute which i adored and studied architecture and morphology

you’ve just made a letterboxd account. what are your top 4 films? bones and all, princess Mononoke, midsommar, and julie and julia

what’s one of your pet peeves? when people start walking onto the train before people get out, oh that grinds my gears, I take three trains to and from work so a lot of my pet peeves are pubic transit related (still couldn't catch me in a car tho)

what’s one of your guilty pleasures? im going to change this to creature comfort: I love love love cooking and eating homecooked meals

and finally, if you could learn any skill, what skill would you want to learn? any instrument. literally any. i've tried hard over and over with different instruments and the best i can get to is like barely passible not quite good or god forbid innovative.

tagging under the cut!

@heymrspatel @doshiart @sirrudo @mickittotheman @mybrainismelted

@iansw0rld @especially-fuk-u @mickeysgaymom @softmick

@blue-disco-lights @gallawitchxx @solitarycreaturesthey @deathclassic

#sgt says #tag game

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recurring-polynya · 5 months

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Hello! Long time lurker. I've really enjoyed reading your work and especially love Heart is a Muscle and the way you characterise all the different relationships in it! My ask is how do you think Byakuya finds out about RenRuki. I feel like it would be one of those moments where subconsciously he'd see it coming but at the same time still be caught of guard and manage to be very Byakuya about it.

This was one of those where I wasn't quite sure if it was an ask or a fic request, but the fact is I have an old chunk of story sitting around that addresses this very question. I guess I intended to someday throw this into some post-Heart is a Muscle story, and maybe I still will, but who knows if I'm ever going to get there, so you can have it now. Takes place after everyone gets home from the Blood War (where Rukia and Renji had to confess to each other in the middle of bankai training because I thought it would be cool it was weighing on their hearts)

(I wrote this in 2019 and gave it only light edits)

| read on ao3 | request guidelines |

⚔️ 🕶️ 💕

The sun was starting to go down when Kuchiki Byakuya arrived at Practice Field #3. On a normal day, work hours would be long over, although one might find an industrious officer out in this part of the division grounds, training on their own, or a few of the younger ones playing a game of pick-up football. Tonight, it was quiet.

It had been nine days since Kurosaki Ichigo had defeated Yhwach.

A young human girl was perched on the fence surrounding the field, chatting animatedly with Byakuya's ridiculous adjutant, who snapped to attention when he sensed the approach of his commanding officer.

"Good evening, sir!" Abarai Renji barked. "Thank you for agreeing to this! I hope you don't mind, but I asked Inoue Orihime to come."

The girl hopped off the fence and bowed deeply. "Hello, again, Captain Kuchiki, sir!"

"Worried that I won't hold back?" Byakuya asked with a coolly raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I know you won't," Renji replied. "She's here so that I don't hold back."

Byakuya guffawed, and one side of his mouth quirked up. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. You've finally managed to say something humorous."

"You feeling good today, sir?" Renji asked, just a tinge of concern in his voice. "You feeling up for this?"

"I am fully recovered, thank you," Byakuya sniffed. "Yourself?"

"Feelin' good, sir."

"Then let us begin."

"Oh, one last thing, Captain. Would you mind leaving your scarf with Orihime, here? I wouldn't wanna get my blood all over another one."

"Truly, Lieutenant, you are on a roll today," Byakuya noted, unwinding the scarf from his neck and draping it around Orihime's.

"Oooh, it's so light!" Orihime cooed. "It's like nothing!"

"I'll tell Kurosaki to get you one for your birthday," Renji teased.

"Are you ready now?" Byakuya demanded.

"Yep, enough stallin'. Let's do this."

Orihime hopped back up on the fence and called up a shield in front of herself. "Good luck, Renji!" she called.

Abarai shot her a wink and took up his position on the field.

Byakuya placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it.

Abarai drew his and silently released into shikai. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. "Might wanna release, sir."

"I shall be the judge of that."

Renji gave a little nod. "As y'like. BANKAI!"

It was common knowledge that Abarai had unlocked a second level to his bankai in the Royal Realm. Byakuya was looking forward to seeing it actually, but he wasn't particularly concerned about it.

Byakuya knew quite a bit about zanpakutou and their releases. It did happen occasionally that a sword would reveal itself in stages, but it tended to retain its essential character.

Hihiou Zabimaru was an excellent bankai, powerful and versatile. It required immense spiritual pressure, iron concentration and significant amount of mental bookkeeping, Byakuya was given to understand. It had served Abarai well in his ill-advised hijinks up until now, but the fact was, it would not be truly formidable until Abarai himself had another half-century or so under his belt. It was too bulky, too finicky, too fragile. There was no other way to master bankai like that, only experience. Byakuya knew a quite bit about bankai like that, himself.

Abarai launched himself at his captain, blade swinging.

Byakuya went to shikai as he drew his zanpakutou, petals pouring forth from his sheath and forming a shield in front of him.

Abarai's blade sliced right through it.

Byakuya flash-stepped away, sweeping Senbonzakura's blades into a more solid foundation, only to find them knocked out of the way by a giant skeletal hand. Another flash step, another regrouping, and Abarai was there again.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. Hihio Zabimaru had been a joke. A prank. A giant, heavy, impossible-to-use freight train that Abarai had taken in stride, as he did every other misfortune that fate heaped upon him. It was a shadow, an echo of Abarai's real bankai.

So-oh Zabimaru also took immense spiritual pressure to summon, that much was still true. But the bulk, the unwieldy mass was gone. It was as if though Abarai's new spiritual armor was plugged directly into his spinal column. It moved with him weightlessly, astonishingly fast.

Something else had changed, too. Something about Abarai's spiritual pressure. It was more unified, more focused, more together. For the first time out of the many, many times Byakuya had fought his lieutenant, he did not feel like he was being attacked by an angry, flailing youth, but that he was facing a worthy adversary.

Byakuya was being pressed harder and harder to defend against Abarai's assault.

And the fact was, he was not fine.

The injuries inflicted on him by As Nodt were grievous. He was lucky to be alive, and if it weren't for Kirinji's healing springs, he probably wouldn't even be able to summon his zanpakutou. His soul was damaged, and although he had made a miraculous recovery, he was not completely made whole. His speed was close to what it once was, and his bond with Senbonzakura was as strong as ever, but his power and endurance were greatly compromised. He could go to bankai if needed, but it was extremely taxing, and Shuukei Hakuteiken was, at the moment, out of his reach.

He thought it wouldn't matter.

Abarai had never even come close to beating him.

Abarai wouldn't notice such a weakness and furthermore, was too sentimental to exploit such a--

He had brought Inoue.

Abarai knew exactly what he was doing.

“BANKAI!” Byakuya called out.

Abarai smirked. “You shouldna let me get that head start, Captain.”

---

"Renji, he's waking up!"

The world swam into view, tinted orange.

"Hey, Captain!" Abarai's grating bark rang out. "How you feel?"

"I feel fine," Byakuya snapped, starting to sit up.

"Lie down please, I'm almost done, but not quite," Orihime said firmly.

Byakuya put his head back down on the ground, and replayed the last few moments of the fight in his head.

Abarai had come out aggressively, going to bankai immediately. He had never allowed Byakuya to gain a solid footing, and pulled out his strongest attack, which Byakuya had never seen, as soon as he possibly could. Byakuya hadn’t even been able to get a good look at it, he only had the impression of fangs before becoming completely overwhelmed. Abarai, who knew his attack patterns, who knew that it took him a minute or two to work up a full head of steam, had bet everything he had on defeating Byakuya immediately and it had worked.

It had been a rout, an utter humiliation.

Byakuya could still beat his adjutant, surely, but he could no longer plow him over with superior strength, and certainly not in his degraded condition. He was going to need to think up counterstrategies. And some of them were not going to work.

He looked down at his chest and realized that his shihakushou had been sliced from shoulder to hip, and was soaked, absolutely drenched with blood.

"You didn't cut me in half, did you?" he sneered.

"No, you were definitely all still, um, attached," Renji clarified.

"Not by much, though," Orihime mumbled.

Renji nudged her firmly in the shoulder.

Orihime waved her hands, and the healing bubble collapsed into nothingness. "All done!"

Abarai held out a hand. With a twinge of reluctance, Byakuya took it, and let the younger man haul him to his feet.

Orihime scrambled up, pulling the scarf over her head, and offered it back. "Thanks for letting me watch! That was a really fun fight! You're both so, so strong and it's so much nicer when no one actually wants to kill each other."

"Hey, we don't wanna keep everyone waiting, right, 'Hime?" Renji said, glancing sideways at his captain. "We got dinner plans, everyone's leavin' tomorrow."

"Yes, Rukia mentioned it," Byakuya replied dryly.

"You okay to--"

"Stop checking on me, you fool. I have said I am well and I dislike repeating myself."

Renji nodded quickly. "Thanks for the fight, sir. I'll see you in the morning."

Three hours later, Byakuya sat in his office.

He was thinking.

He was thinking about the current state of the Gotei 13, the captain-less squads, the loss of highly seated officers. He was thinking about his Third Seat, who had never exactly been lieutenant material and was currently on medical leave after having his sword-arm completely reconstructed.

Byakuya looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Uh, hi, Captain," Abarai said, clearly surprised to see him. "What are you doing here so late?"

"This is my office, is it not?" Byakuya snapped.

"Well, sure," Abarai replied, walking over to his own desk. "I left my sunglasses here," he explained, sticking them on top of his head.

"It's dark out," Byakuya pointed out.

"I'll need 'em in the morning," Renji shrugged. He frowned thoughtfully, then pulled open his filing cabinet and withdrew a folder. "Speaking of which, I was gonna give you this tomorrow, but as long as we're both here..."

He crossed the room and extended it.

Gingerly, Byakuya took it, then squinted at the notation on the tab. "Strongly Worded Letters to the Management of Squad 11?"

Abarai's eyes widened. "Oh, no, that was just to keep people from poking around. It's actually...well, it's pretty obvious what it is," he finished lamely.

"You aren't ready,"' Byakuya snarled.

"I'm...what?"

"Yes, your new bankai is very powerful, it is true. But just because you have run roughshod over a few enemies with it hardly means you're ready to strike out on your own. You need more training, more control. A bankai like that can land you in hot water as well as it can save you. Furthermore, there's a shortage of competent lieutenants, it would be foolhardy indeed for you to set forth without experienced backup, and don't tell me you're even thinking of the Seventh. I have heard how you and Lieutenant Iba are when you two are unsupervised."

Abarai's face was twisted in utter befuddlement. "Sir, what are you talking about?"

Byakuya flipped the folder open and stared at the neat stack of papers within. "This isn't an Intent to Test for the Captains' Exam," he said, taken aback.

Renji made a choking noise. "No, sir! Cripes, sir, I just got a new bankai, why would I leave? I need you to help me learn to use it. An' I wouldn't leave you, anyway, not while you're still, you know. From the As Nodt thing. Also, who the hell wants to be captain of anywhere but the Sixth?" His voice rose steadily in both volume and pitch as he babbled.

"There is no need to shout, Lieutenant," Byakuya frowned, looking down again at the stack of papers.

It was a copy of form RHCA-48-006-C, an application to become a Family-Approved Suitor.

Stupidly, Byakuya's eyes drifted over the names written into the form's blank spaces. "With the submission of this form, Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain of the Sixth Division of the Gotei 13," (did he really need to write all that out? It barely fit in the space) "requests the approval of the Kuchiki family to court Lady Kuchiki Rukia, Assistant Captain of the Thirteenth and First Daughter of the Kuchiki."

Oh.

---

Byakuya sat in the garden, on the bench near the koi pond. His brain was chasing about in aimless circles, much like the fish in the pond.

"Brother?"

He looked up from the water. His sister was still dressed, despite the late hour. Byakuya recalled that she had been out earlier with Abarai and their human friends. Her hair and makeup was different from the way she wore it for formal events, sharper, wilder. It seemed surreal that parts of the city had been reduced to dust, while others had come through virtually untouched. That despite it all, life continued on.

"Are you alright?" Rukia asked, her brow creased with worry.

Byakuya smiled at her gently, affectionately. He thought about the great lengths he had once gone to protect her from the world, and now she, a woman with one of the most beautiful and deadly bankai he had ever seen, was fussing over him.

"I am fine, Rukia," he reassured her. "Will you sit with me?"

He had expected her to perch at the other end of the bench, a nervous bird, always ready to take flight. Instead, she sat close to him, and with an egregious disregard for propriety, took one of his hands between her own, holding it in her lap. "Renji's sorry, you know. He thought he should have waited another week or two, but I said--"

"He should not be,” Byakuya said stiffly. “Another week or two would have made no difference. I do not wish to speak of it further."

"Did you have something to eat--"

"Did you know that my lieutenant is in love with you?"

It was dark, so he couldn't see if Rukia's cheeks turned pink, but he did catch the shy smile that crossed her lips before she turned her face away self-consciously. Long ago, he had caused her normally unflappable sister to make that face once, maybe twice. It was possibly his greatest achievement.

"He, ah, mentioned something to that effect the other day,"

Byakuya was fairly certain that Abarai wouldn't have proceeded without Rukia's buy-in, but he felt it prudent to double-check. "I take it you... reciprocate?"

She made a pleased little hum. "He only happened to mention it at all because I had just told him that I was in love with him."

Byakuya often enjoyed whimsically deriding his ridiculously hardworking and absurdly devoted adjutant, even more so in the presence of his sister, whose affection for the man had long been obvious, if not the degree of it. But he couldn't bring himself to make jokes, not right now.

"You do not need my permission to take up with him romantically," he pointed out. "You and I have had a long-standing agreement, that as long as you were discreet about it--"

"Renji and I don't want that," Rukia interrupted. "I mean, we do. We do want to take up romantically." She made an odd face at having to say the phrase out loud. "But you're very important to both of us. We wanted you to know. We… wanted you to approve."

Byakuya glanced over at the young woman who he had adopted so many years ago, and yet, had only recently become his sister. She was, in so many ways, much like himself in his youth. Brash. Stubborn. Willful. Too brilliant by half. Byakuya adjusted his hand in hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"You know I am a sentimental fool," he began, and Rukia turned to look at him again with an expression he couldn't quite parse. "I think it is embarrassingly obvious how fond I am of both of you."

Emotion broke over Rukia's face. "It is not, Brother," she tried to scold him, though her voice cracked at the end.

"He hardly deserves you," Byakuya went on.

Rukia rolled her eyes. "The two of you are so--"

"But at least he acknowledges that, and seeks to remedy it," Byakuya ignored her. "I shall be watching closely to make sure he does not become complacent, but if he continues on his current trajectory, he may eventually become worth your affection."

"So, are you going to approve his stupid form?" Rukia asked.

"That," replied Byakuya, "is a different matter."

"Oh," Rukia said softly.

"Becoming a Family-Approved Suitor has nothing to do with whether or not I like him. It is an opening of negotiations, a proof of suitability for marriage. Surely, you two don't…" He trailed off when he saw Rukia looking away again.

"We've only just started figuring this out," she admitted. "But it's not...out of the question."

"Oh," Byakuya replied. He'd always had the distinct impression that his sister had little interest in matrimony, although he knew as well as anyone the difference the "who" of the equation could make.

"That presents...a difficulty," he admitted. "The Family would not take it well. They already think I have been too selfish in these matters.”

“That’s so short-sighted,” Rukia muttered. “So he doesn’t have much money or a name that goes six generations back. He’s got bankai. He’s incredibly strong. The family hasn’t even produced anyone who can pass the vice-captain’s exam in the last hundred years.”

"You misunderstand me, Sister," he clarified. "Bringing Abarai into the family would be a tremendous benefit to me, personally. I lack for neither money nor familial pedigree. The only thing I lack is a family line. A young man of immense spiritual pressure, with no family ties of his own, and an inexplicably fierce loyalty to myself would be of great benefit to our line and perhaps to our family as a whole. It would not be very advantageous to those who are jostling to prove themselves the best among a number of poor choices. The family has not been to war in a long time, and many forget how important it is to maintain our strength. I have not forgotten.”

Rukia’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t name him…”

Byakuya made a horrified face. “Of course not.” He frowned. “Not for the family. But the Captain of the Sixth need not also be the head of the family. I told the Head Captain a year ago he was the only one I trusted to replace me in that regard, although I doubted my posthumous opinion would be respected. I suppose I should tell Kyouraku the same. This would make things a bit smoother, I suppose.” He was quiet for a moment. “I will need to think on this. I might.... I might need to talk to Grandfather. I… will do what I can.”

Rukia eased her hand from his, and slid her arms around his waist and leaned into his side. “Thank you, Brother. I love you.”

Byakuya closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hardly deserved her, either. He pulled one arm out of her hug and rested it gently around her shoulder. “Thank you, Rukia,” he said softly. Another deep breath. “I love you, too.”

Her only response was to hug him just the teeniest bit harder.

#renruki #byakuya kuchiki #renji abarai #rukia kuchiki #1M words request event #my writing #this is cheating because i wrote this ages ago #but i felt bad for taking too long on my current request so please enjoy this one to tide you over #i have always been very fond of it #you can definitely see the. like. where 4 of my other fanfics came out of this one #also sorry if it doesn't have a great story cadence it wasn't really meant to stand alone but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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connorsjorts · 7 months

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@crabs-brencil I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKE THIS CONCEPT TOO I am taking this opportunity to share my idea for a two-person love triangle fic that I have thinking about for four years (sorry people who are also on twitter you may have seen this already)

Hank takes Connor in after the revolution as a roommate. Desperate to earn his keep, Connor insists on taking over the cooking and cleaning, and as a result, really starts to fuss over Hank’s well-being and health. Hank rolls his eyes and tells him he doesn’t have to do any of this, but… Connor can’t stop. New to being a person, this is the identity he’s taken on, and he struggles to shed it. And as much as Hank complains, he’s getting better, and that’s what really matters.

It doesn’t matter that Connor’s fondness for Hank has evolved into a craving, to be more than friends and roommates. Not when what Connor’s been doing has resulted in a healthy glow and a frequent smile on Hank’s face. So when Hank starts going out, Connor rejects his invites—there’s still cleaning to do, Sumo should be fed at a regular time, Hank could benefit from a hot meal when he gets home.

And Hank is so cool. He is so fucking cool. He’s laid back and spontaneous and not afraid to get a little dirty. Connor could never, not at this point. The rejection of his programming, which demanded adaptability, has left him inflexible and rigid. He’s afraid all the time, now. He wears an apron every day, for god’s sake. He’s not Hank’s type. Physically, he could be—he’s seen the way Hank’s gaze lingers—but that only makes it worse. He’s far too uptight. Every time he’s tried to let loose, Hank only laughs. It’s too late. Hank will never see him the way he wants him to.

Connor wishes he could be someone else.

Hank keeps going out, no longer bothering to invite Connor, and one night he arrives home with a phone number. He’s incredulous about it. “No one’s given me their number in years. Doubt I’ll actually give her a call, but it’s flattering as hell.”

Connor knows it’s only a matter of time. Someone else will get to have him, touch him, open up to him the way Connor wants to. Connor wants so, so badly to know what that’s like. He wants to try it, just once.

This is what finds him at a small apartment building near a revolution-refurbished Cyberlife repair center. They’ll take in any damaged android, even help them find nearby housing after they’re healed.

Connor rings the doorbell of the apartment once, twice (for five times as long).

“Connor,” 60 says, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to borrow your clothes. And your motorcycle.”

“What for?”

“…I’m going to ask Hank out on a date.”

60 laughs. “And you figure you’ll have a better shot if you show up looking like me. Can’t say you’re wrong about that.”

“Not exactly. I think I’ll have a better shot if I… pretend to actually be you.”

“Holy shit. That has got to be the worst idea anyone has ever had.” 60 grins. “I’m in.”

—

tldr; Connor and 60 conspire to give Connor a Grease-style makeover where Connor literally pretends to be bad-boy 60 in an ill-advised attempt to seduce Hank, shenanigans ensue

Thank you if you read this far I just get enthusiastic and yes I have been wanting to make this a real fic for four fucking years. Maybe someday 💫

#i also just posted a short fic on ao3 where connor pretends to be nines #or rather just never clarifies that he’s Not #it’s a human au if you’re into that kind of thing #hankcon #dbh #thanks again for indulging me

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clockwayswrites · 11 months

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you keep saying you struggle just writing consistently on one of your w.i.p.s, so I was wondering, how many w.i.p.s do you actually have?

I like to be able to jump around! I do that often in a single wip. If I have an idea, I'll jump to that and write it, even if it's many scenes/chapters later. Some days or sessions that means jumping to a different wip.

Part of that is because some days it's just easier or smoother writing romance or banter or action or angst or etc. And why not make my life easier?

Another part of that is because, well, I'm always ill, you know? I've been ill every day for twenty years now. And it gets to be so damn draining (and I've had a worse time of it this year than most). So I try to let myself do what I want in my hobbies.

And then the last part is I like to let writing... ferment(?). It's nice to get to a point and be able to set a piece down and turn it around in the back of your brain until you're sure it's right or know the best next thing or look at it with fresh eyes. Rewrites make my work better and I like to give it that time. But, uh, for an actual list:

Active wips: (aka my primary focuses)

Like Betta Fish Do (long fic, 3-4 chapters left) A Broken Sort of Normal (1 chapter left) City Pigeons Bleed Green (Trauma Tuesday Fic) Series: One Stop Soup Shop (AH SEQUELS I suck at them)

Back burner wips: (aka the things I poke at and deff want to write)

The fic that I'm not writing (main fic I keep on the side) Not Exactly Cinderella (ugh, needs the hook up and an ending) Neon Adjuration (keeps chewing on my brain) Bury the Years (long fic doom) Both Ways at Once (also long fic doom) Catching Cold (need to outline this sucker to keep at it) Salt in the Bones Series (waiting on Moku (no pressure)) Specter of Starlight (pacing thoughts and plans stalled out) Black Smoke Custody (ngl... this maybe should move to hopeful)

Hopeful thoughts: (NOT wips- no real writing yet, but maybe someday)

Tired Dads with issues (Bruce/Dadentine) Gotham Knights talon Park Cosmas the Clone Finding Danny (one of my OG ideas for this fandom) The Bruises Death Leaves (hate this title now) Something Danny/Dick (a few options here)

So lucky 13?

#askme answeryou #reinaluna #well this is mildly depressing LOL #writing process

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

Note

top 5 wips you’re most excited to write? :D

AH …. anon my beloved 🥺🥺🥺 tysm for giving me an excuse to talk about them!!!! i have a whole bunch but here are the ones i’m most excited for/planning to write soon :3 hopefully

TITLES ARE STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION BTW but if you know where any of them are from you get a big gold star ⭐️

it’s your touch that i need

the best friend’s brother!satoru fic that i’m planning on posting next….. i’m . Unsure if i’ll have time to post it this week but :’3 i’ll get it done!!! honestly i just think bfb!toru is insanely attractive so this is mostly an outlet for that but . i have a plot mapped out kind of… the unrequited love trope is just perfect for him but it’s Me so it’ll probably be less angsty and more funny/bittersweet !!

here’s a snippet from it <3

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.” the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this? it’s a specific kind of torture. he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. there are lots of people out there for you. (i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know. but i want you.)

hunter, you were human

my neglected mer!sugu fic…… our beloved fish man….. one day. i’ll write it out. i’m having some trouble deciding the order of events + general formatting of the outline so 😭😭 i’m a bit stuck. i’ll get there though!!! this au has angst potential but it’s Me so trust that this will be fluffy and nothing else. lots of banter and cutesy moments. i have a lotttt of thoughts about this au and character/reader dynamic so….. i’m. really excited to eventually write it all out!!! i love him sm :cc

“i don’t really like freshwater.” … your eyes widen. his voice is silky, smooth, like a silver river running from the forked tip of his tongue; a melodic lilt that makes you think of the lullaby your mother used to sing you to sleep with. a long, slow moment passes you by, like the rocking of a rusty ship. silently, your tongue forms around a bundle of words, your mouth gaping like a fish out of water. staring at the merman in your bathtub. “you can talk?!”

consider the hairpin turn

THE BELOVEDEST OF THEM ALL …… my extremely neglected best friend’s brother!kenjaku fic T_T my magnum opus even . i started writing it out a while ago but had to stop bc i can’t decide how to format it …. i think it’d be best to tell the story through a lot of flashbacks but it’s difficult to decide where to put what flashbacks in a way that doesn’t disturb the flow, yk??? but i do have everything outlined and i’m super excited to finally post it :33 someday… bfb!kenny is the actual loml i have so much lore planned for him. this fic is just a whole bunch of yearning and tension… the tiniest tiniest bit suggestive bc he truly makes me ill.

nervously, your gaze trails towards the stairs. worried, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. kenjaku notices. a large palm cradles your cheek; making sure your eyes stay locked onto his own. ”don't worry about him,” he soothes, a rough thumb smoothing down your skin. ”it’s just us here… just you and me. why don’t you take a deep breath for me, hm?” (you do. without thinking. as if your body was waiting for instructions, waiting to satiate this gnawing desire to impress him, make him proud. be good for him.) “now,” he exhales, in tandem with you, molecules mingling together. “do you want this?”

only in the next world

ANOTHER DEARLY BELOVED WIP that’s been rotting in my drafts for a while ….. 👉👈 i think that out of all of these fics this is the first one that i wrote the outline to?? probably even before i made this blog. it’s basically just a canon-aligned au where gojo navigates his maybe-possibly-feelings for you, a new teacher at jujutsu high!! sooo really just my attempt to write what i view as a more canon-aligned gojo and his feelings towards love :3 mostly character-centered fluff and slowburn… some office au vibes…. i’m very fond of this reader!! and i love this version of gojo so bad i really hope i can do him justice…

“they’re a softie, huh?” shoko exhales — smoke drifting past her lungs, mingling with the cold air, a stench of tobacco that makes him crinkle his nose. ”they are,” she hums, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. a dangerously knowing look. “it’s not often someone captures your attention.” gojo smiles. ”is that what it seems like?” he drawls, almost a chuckle. closing his eyes and thinking of you, the fading scent of your perfume. ”well, who knows.” (certainly not him.)

signs of affection

my sickeningly fluffy cult leader geto fic <333 bc i’m spreading the agenda that he is a puppy of a man towards his s/o. this one is just meant to be funny and sweet!! i adoreee the thought of him dating a retired sorcerer with a normal ass job so in this one the reader works at a preschool…. and they’re meant to attend some kind of event for the preschool + is offered to bring a plus one. mild chaos ensues (geto doesn’t want to be anywhere near your non-sorcerer colleagues but he also wants to support you so he’s having a bit of a crisis rn…..) i LOVE this one and i’m so excited to write it out <333333 i think this geto is the most endearing man alive.

suguru blinks, eyelashes fluttering, gleaming under the shallow light of the lamppost just behind him. illuminating the peach-dyed flush dusting his ears, those wide pupils. and his lips, glossy with something cherry-flavoured, soon to curl up into a smile — fond, fond, fond. melting into your touch, basking in your long-sought attention. if he were a cat, you’re sure he'd be purring. he places one big palm over yours, where it rests on his cheek, and he stares. silently, like you’re the only thing worth seeing; dreamy galaxies inside his eyes, all honey and star clusters, leaking adoration. a milky way of love. ”… another,” he pleads, nosing at your fingertips.

#TYSM FOR INDULGING ME ANON!!!!!!#these r all very important to me #anyway im abt to spoil where the titles are from bc i cant contain myself 😔😔#it’s your touch that i need is a pinkpantheress lyric (song: just for me) bc her music is so gojocoded and ESP bfb!gojo coded…#also the lyrics are very much in tune w the fic and reader being horrendously down bad #hunter; you were human is a lyric from one of my favorite mitski songs pearl diver <333 it just feels mer!sugu coded to me!!#but the song is a lot more somber than the fic #consider the hairpin turn is ofc a line from a richard siken poem <333 bc kenny is sikencoded and this fic is VERY in tune w you are jeff #that’s the name of the poem btw. you are jeff. it’s super good go read it rn !!!#only in the next world is a quote from my belovedest video game disco elysium :3 the full quote is:#“true love is possible only in the next world — for new people. it is too late for us. wreak havoc on the middle class.”#<- which is just. insanely gojocoded #aaaand finally signs of affection is the name of a persona 4 song that i rlly like :3 im not completely sure if that should be the title #but im going w it for now <333 #anyway if you read all this pls know ily. 🫂🫂 here’s your gold star ⭐️ !!#ask tag ✩

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thatneoncrisis · 2 months

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20 questions for 20 writers!

tagged by @waitineedaname thxx

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

21 works, i feel like thats a healthy number

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

i have 439,385 words, a very large chunk of that is from We Have Always Lived in the Apartment

3. What fandoms do you write for?

right now its the locked tomb, used to be homestuck, i have some crossovers with the magnus archives and one with john dies at the end

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

We Have Always Lived in the Apartment -- TLT horror mystery modern au

Insert Jesus Allegory Here -- solkat focused continuation of karkats pesterquest route, i NEED my new fics to get more popular than this oh my god

Gehenna the First -- TLT houseswap au with harrow as god

the gap between a tragedy and comedy (in this life its just you and me) -- TLT coffee shop au.

What's Eating Gideon Nav? -- TLT catholic boarding school horror au

5. Do you respond to comments?

not typically, theres some weird thing with my head where i kind of hate that it counts my comments in the total comment amount. i cant explain it i just dont like how it looks, plus just repeating variations of "thank you!!" feels hollow after a while. im more likely to answer direct questions about the story rather than general commentary i do love talking about my thought process and intentions

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ok so i cant actually tell you this because none of those fics are Done yet but all you need to know is that i consider all of my TLT fics tragedies to some extent. take that as you will. i dont even Like the word angst really it portends a level of melodrama id like to avoid

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'd say its a dead tie between A Brief Lesson In The Occult and Shit. Let’s Build A Fort. i can barely look at these anymore and if you read them and feel compelled to tell me you like them: dont. i can do better now

8. Do you get hate on fics?

never to my knowledge has anyone ever publicly disliked one of my fics. in fact sometimes i dream about someone posting it in their discord group chat and making fun of it because im so curious about what theyd say

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes i have. i do it almost exclusively as satire or character analysis as i find like, the physicality of sex to be inherently kind of goofy. liek the second you have to describe a dick or boobs with words the magic is gone it just becomes weird silly looking flesh. so i like focusing on weird and bad sex, unsatisfying or clumsy sex. sex that changes you in no significant way

10. Do you write crossovers?

yes i have. A Brief Disappearance and Statement of David Wong are both TMA/JDATE crossovers and i DID write a homestuck/TMA crossover but its not on my ao3 i guess? odd

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no? does that happen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i think once someone asked but i have no clue if it happened

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

@notedchampagne is my co producer in all things forever but ive basically written everything myself and they help polish it up

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

shiiiiiiite uh. jade/davepeta still means a lot to me. i think there are a lot of really engaging ships in TLT but i always kind of default to griddlehark i just kind of understand them the best

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

eventually SAM and i would like to circle back to our fanventure Therapystuck but we both got really busy with school, work and a general lull in the HS fandom. also maybe someday ill go back to Insert Jesus Allegory Here i liked the direction of the story i just have to get myself back in that headspace. being into homestuck Does something to you, like psychologically

16. What are your writing strengths?

after asking some friends theyve told me im good at tone, prose, funny metaphors, and dialogue but a caveat for the last thing as "I have yet to see how your Own guys talk and how you'd handle distinct voices from scratch so I'm only giving you about 80%"

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i hate like. writing Around the important bits of a scene. i love the physicality of characters and what it reveals about them, along with pieces of the scene the narration deems important or interesting enough to mention to the audience. but im always worried im jsut fucking yapping. also i hate like, political scenes theres a rhythm to them that i dont quite understand. people sitting around using specific language that Feels important in a way that doesnt make it clear im bullshitting like 99% of what theyre talking about

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

AHAH. GOD. i actually looked this up the other day because theres an original story i want to write where i want to make it clear theyre basically speaking french the whole time, even though its written in english. i only speak english (i took some french in hs, its left me though i want to pick it up again) so i wouldnt know anything about how it reads to polyglots but i guess theres really only so much you can do outside of literally learning a new language just to write a story for free. ive seen a whole host of tips so i gues sit just matters how you employ them

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Homestuck. my only regret is that i wasnt a better writer

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

FUCK christ uuuuh. favorite right Now would be The Apartment but EVENTUALLY id like it to be Gehenna the First because its the hardest to write and i need it to pay off. if you havent read it uhhh. hi. hello. you should do that. i think its really cool and fun and junk

CHRIST who to tag i dont follow big writers uuuh @tranquilitybasehotelcasino and @accidentallyadorable sure have fun

#neon writes

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veliseraptor · 4 months

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Never have I ever: soulmate fic?

going back in time to answer some asks for this meme...

I have not written it and I kind of struggle to conceptualize how I would, unless maybe it was leaning less on the traditional valence of "soulmate" and more on a sort of...bound together by fate, for good and/or ill, inextricably intertwined in a way that either borders on or is outright toxic. in which case songxuexiao or xuexiao would make a good candidate, potentially.

because that is kind of how they are - and I think this would be one where I would not make it a happy ending or remotely functional or even a real "romantic endgame" so much as, like. I'm thinking about a time loop that never ends and never resolves well but there's also no getting out of it for either of them, because no matter what they do they end up getting drawn together and combusting one way or another.

sounds kind of fun and crunchy, actually. filing it in the "maybe someday" folder.

#conversating #erinflight #lise memes

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whysamwhy123 · 9 months

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✨Fic Writing Review 2023✨

Tagged by the wonderful dynamic duo that is @aerodaltonimperial and @perhapswhoknowsvamp and it's very fitting that those two lovely people tagged me because they're a big reason why I wrote much of anything this year! Took me a while to get this done because I wanted to get my last fic of the year out the door first. I'll put the rest below the cut, and fair warning - it's loooooong. This bitch doesn't shut up, so I rambled on. A lot.

Words and Fics

76, 222 words published on AO3 in 2023

15 fics published on AO3 (16 if you count that one kinkmeme prompt I filled and posted anonymously)

2 little tumblr ficlets

Top 3 by Kudos

Voice in the Dark - Hookhausen (not super surprising, considering it was a popular pairing at the time, and it was the fic I wrote for the anniversary event)

Kids These Days And Their Darn Phones - Hookhausen

Half Your Age Plus Seven - OrangeHook (I continue to be incredibly surprised how well this fic did, like...huh?!)

Top 3 by Hits

Voice in the Dark - Hookhausen

Voice in the Dark, Part Two - Hookhausen (how fitting, LOL)

Half Your Age Plus Seven - OrangeHook (Seriously, what was it about this fic that drew people in? More so than any of my other OrangeHook fics? Like, I'm grateful and all but also confused, like this fic is way too long?! And weird about the age difference?!)

Author's Favourite

As much as I'm loving writing OrangeHook now, I think Voice in the Dark, Part Two is probably the best thing I've written? Even though it's also overly long and gets weird at the end (very much did not expect it to go in that direction when I started writing it), I'm actually pretty proud of how that one turned out. I had a clear vision in my head for how each scene would play out and what I wanted to get across, and man, I remember how most of the Hook/Evilhausen dialogue popped into my brain late one night when I couldn't sleep, so I spat it out into a doc and then about a month later when I actually wrote the scene, I don't think I changed a single word? I just added everything else around it, all the not-dialogue parts. And it was just a lot of fun getting to carry on that story, especially as someone who hasn't managed to crank out a proper multi-chapter fic yet. Who knows, maybe I'll return to that world someday...

Fandom Events in 2023

Uh, well, I guess I did the whole Hookhausen Anniversary thing? And...that's about it. I'm pretty disconnected from the fandom at large, whoopsie daisy 😬

Upcoming Projects

Hoo boy.

I have over 5k words of a Ricky/Christian Sugar Baby AU thing written already. I haven't posted it because it kinda needs some smut and that's still not something I can really do. I might post it someday, if I can make something work, or alternatively do what I normally do and put an annoying fade to black in there. Or maybe I'll think better of it and never post it because it's very self-indulgent and I highly doubt anyone else would really be interested or want me to continue it or anything. But I have Ideas for it...so many ideas...

Also, in my ill-fated quest to try and make myself write smut, I kinda started a Ricky/Bill championship celebration fic. Maybe I'll revisit that? Try to get it done?

And then there's that one fic I really want to work on, but have barely started. I've vague-posted about it here before - it's an incredibly fucked-up Dead Dove fic about Daniel Garcia and a Very Bad, Not-Good thing that happens to him, and the subsequent complete mental breakdown that follows. I've had the idea rattling around in my brain for the better part of a year at this point, despite not making much actual progress on it. Every time I think about it though, I have new ideas for scenes or dialogue. I'd like to make it work, but I don't know if I have the writing chops to handle it, plus it would probably end up being super long and nobody would want to read it, so it'd feel like a huge waste of time on my part? And I've had the idea for so long, it's out-dated too. But still, the urge remains...

Oh, and I still have a ton of OrangeHook ideas I'd like to make happen. Some are, of course, about their age difference. Some would (ideally) involve smut. And others... *nervous laughter* Others would likely result in an ''Everyone disliked that'' situation...

Writing Reflection

I was thinking about making a sappy post about this and whoops, here's my excuse! I don't talk a lot on here about my tragic backstory because honestly, who cares? But I will say this - before January of this year, I hadn't written a word of anything in years. Fic or otherwise. I used to love writing, but Stuff Happened and it killed all enjoyment I got out of it, and I thought that's how it would be forever. Then, for reasons I can't even remember, I started reading fic again, specifically in this wild little fandom of ours, and y'all are just so talented that it made my untalented ass want to give it another shot. So...I did.

I remember when I posted my first fic in ages back in January, I thought ''Maybe about three people will read this and no one will leave a comment or anything, but whatever, I wrote a thing and that's something I haven't done in years so that's enough for me!'' And to be honest, I still think that whenever I post stuff now? It's crazy to me that anyone actually reads my stuff and gets some kind of kick out of it. But every kudos and comment floors me and brings me so much joy, I can't even express it properly. I have to say a huge thank you to anyone who's ever read one of my fics, left kudos or dropped a comment. Whoever and wherever you are, you made my day!

And look, I ain't delusional. I know that calling myself a small fish in the fandom would be too generous. But I'm fine with that - because I'm genuinely enjoying writing again and that's what matters most to me. Even though I've also rediscovered how stressful writing can be (🙂🙂🙂) when it comes down to it, there's joy and happiness in my life that wasn't there last year and that's all because I started writing again. And because some lovely folks here decided to let me know they liked what I was throwing out there. The years have not been kind to ol' Sammy Sam-Sam and this year was no exception, but getting to forget about all that shit and write my silly little wrestling fanfiction has been a great distraction and a comfort through this whole year.

So...yeah. Thanks to everyone who's ever commented on my writing, thanks to the folks who follow me on here (I don't know how you manage that though, I'm such an annoying bitch, aren't you sick of me yet?) and thanks to anyone who I've had the chance to chat with about writing and ships and whatever silly little ideas pop into my head (any of y'all feel free to message me at any time, I am always down to blab about whatever blorbos/ideas take your fancy). I'm hoping I can keep this train a-rollin' a little more next year. Still thinking back to when I started writing again, I made my new AO3 account expecting to write Dustjim only, but then I quickly decided I couldn't write those two well enough, and since then I've bounced around a bunch of different pairings, with a few rarepairs shoved in between for good measure. God only knows where my head will be at this time next year, LOL. I'd love to finally be able to attempt some of the bigger ideas I've been cooking up for a while now. Maybe I'll even write a proper multi-chapter fic? We'll see, but this bitch can dream, at least.

Rules:

Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please do eat glass, I’ve heard it’s good for your gums.

I'm not going to tag anyone because I'm pretty sure everyone I know who writes has already been tagged? So if you're reading this and you haven't, go ahead and do it! By which I mean, eat glass. Eat all the glass that you want. Accidents happen in the dark.

#What is wrong with you Sam you should not be allowed to write #Also you really need to learn to shut up dude #This bitch went onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn and on #But it was kinda fun reflecting on The Year I Got Back Into Writing #It's been fun yo #Who knows what this next year will bring??

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bookwyrminspiration · 1 year

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“how did you even get sick? you look ugly. come here.” For Keefe and Tam? Can be platonic or romantic if you want to do anything for it :). Maybe with cuddles because I, personally, am craving the skin

I love your writing btw please write a book one day <33

That's very sweet of you--I'd love to write several books someday! I've got some concepts up my sleeve already. Also, the way I set up their dynamic (a self-inflicted personal hell) the cuddles aren't as prominent as I would've liked to give you, but hopefully the rest of the fic makes up for that <3

idiot boys and stupid feelings <- ao3 link

warnings: sickness, brief reference of the twin's time banished and all associated troubles, but that's really it!

word count: 6.1k

Watching the sun wallowing, meekly disappearing before an unforgiving horizon as it trailed reds and purples and loud oranges in its wake across the sky was a conflicting sight for Tam, who observed unimpressed from the balcony.

Of all the sunsets he’d witnessed, the view from whatever place this was--Mr. Forkle had told them, but he hadn’t bothered to listen to that part; he’d been more focused on words like “resurgence” and “outbreak” and “victims,” the more important things--wasn’t one to stand out. A simple skyline, typical colors. The sun could do better.

A frown started to surface, but instead of letting it breach, he reached to tug on his bangs instead, the one habit he could never seem to break.

Cool air washed over his face, chilling the drying sweat sticking to his skin, a remnant of the efforts he’d exhausted, that they were all exhausting.

Over an hour ago, their group had dispersed to their various assignments, each to return to Wherever-the-hell once they’d finished their parts; he’d been done first, and was now alone in the hideout--as alone as one could be when they were always watched.

The balcony sat perched over a tumbling, mountainous expanse, sloping down into the night, a twisted metal railing decorated with florals and feathers encasing it. The wide doors were fully open behind him, allowing the light from the room beyond to spill into the creeping night and the cool, fresh air in.

As he stood there, he pretended he couldn’t feel the eyes of this place, examining his hand for traces of shadow, darkness caught under his nails, averting his gaze from that uninspiring sunset. From the memories they stirred.

Another sunset meant another day survived, but another night to face. Time without reliable warmth, with impaired sight, things moving in the night, fitful sleep.

Tam’s mouth twitched, more of the frown slipping out, shoving those thoughts aside and finding the nearest other to latch onto and distract himself.

Which landed him on blonde hair, pale eyes, bags creeping beneath them, charcoal smudges on fingertips.

And something…off.

Of all the people to think about, he didn’t have to settle on Keefe, how he’d seemed…fuzzy, ill-alert, at their “meeting” earlier. There were over a dozen people in the room, and he made it his business to watch each and every one of them, to be prepared just in case--

But, regardless of how many people he observed, his thoughts snagged on Keefe. There was something unspoken about him, something festering, something that had made him want to leave him behind. Give his piece of the assignment to someone else.

Instead, he’d decided that, with the least important piece of their puzzle, Keefe was the least of his troubles.

It had been a surprise, actually, to return to the hideout and find himself the first one back, he’d been so sure that with such a small responsibility Keefe would be impatiently pacing the place, about the track someone down to join them instead of waiting for them all to reconvene while complaining about how miniscule his job had been.

Tam’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft, dragging sound of approaching footsteps.

He stilled, darkness staining his fingers like charcoal as he tilted his head to the side, listening.

They came from somewhere around the hideout, outside, only audible because he, himself, was outside.

Shadows traveled further up his arm, a tactful, slow acclimation to the darkness falling further with each second the sun acquiesced the sky.

The footsteps paused, and in their place a door handle jangled; stone-like, Tam turned just enough to peer over his shoulder, to watch as the door swung open and a particular pale-eyed blond stepped through, hand pushing through his hair, eyes scanning across the room, the empty couches facing each other, barren counters, untouched chairs with throw pillows still dented from over an hour ago.

His eyes missed Tam, skipping past the balcony sheathed in unnatural shadow as he swept the door shut behind him.

Immediately, his facade crumbled, and if Tam said he was surprised he’d be lying.

Keefe’s shoulders drooped, carefully curated carefree expression melting into bland nothing, fingers coming up to hold his temples, traveling back to poke gently at the base of his neck like it ached.

Shuffling, dragging footsteps took him to one of the couches, where he lowered himself as though the weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders.

Tam only watched, squinting to see better.

He wondered how long it would take Keefe to realize he was there, if he even would at all. The thought of how long he could probably get away with it amused him, but slipped from his grasp at the sound of a sniffle.

His muscles tensed once more, ready to make himself known and gone immediately if Keefe was about to start crying, but the sound repeated, and with it, everything from that evening clicked into place.

“How did you even get sick? You look ugly. Come here,” he said, turning fully as he did so, facing his back to the memory of a sunset and inclining his head as he learned against the railing, looking Keefe over from the better angle.

With that angle, he got a good view of the way he jumped, spine straightening and eyes widening, showing the whites all around.

His hands dropped from his head, falling in his lap as he shook himself off, a few precious seconds passing before he had himself sorted. “Were you just watching me? Dude, that’s so creepy.”

Tam ignored the question. “Drop the act, I can see right through it.”

Keefe’s shoulders tightened, and he opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted.

“Don’t even bother to try and lie to me right now. You’ve been off all evening. Now, like I said, come here.” Tam jerked his head towards the spot beside him.

His posture shifted, softening ever so slightly as he glanced between him and the door, as if there was someone else to see. Perhaps waiting for Biana to leap out of the shadows and accost them.

“Why?”

“Fresh air.”

Keefe frowned, leaning back further into the cushions, a slight grate to his voice. “But I just got all that fresh air running around scouting, looking for nothing.”

Tam shrugged. “Fine. Don’t, then.”

Silence fell for only a few short moments before Keefe grumbled something Tam couldn’t pick up, not even with all his practice, pushing up off the couch and stalking over to the balcony beside him, leaning facing out.

At least, Tam thought that’s what he was going for; instead, his feet dragged across the floor and his path swayed, Keefe unable to keep himself moving straight until he slumped against the banister, breath shaky--though he tried to hide it.

“You’re a mess, where’d you even catch…whatever that is,” Tam eyed him up and down, from the wan pallor of his face contrasted with the unnatural flush on his cheeks to the uneven rise and fall of his chest to the unsteady stance of his feet, relying on that railing for support.

Keefe huffed out what might’ve been a laugh. “Wow, thanks. Real supportive. I feel so cared about.” A low sighed rolled between his lips, laughter fading. “I think I caught it from Fitz. He wasn’t feeling great, but I ignored that and insisted we hang out anyway, and now…wait, earlier, did you say ‘all evening?’ Like you’ve been watching me all evening?”

It took Tam a moment to follow Keefe’s disjointed thoughts, lips tightening as he recalled the exact words he’d spoken.

If his cheeks felt warm, it was all the layers, all the black, nothing else. He scowled. “It’s not my fault you’ve had that funk around you all day. It’s hard to ignore.”

It wasn’t, actually; he had more than enough experience curating what, exactly, he paid attention to and was aware of. Pushing Keefe and the haze around him from his mind would’ve been simple enough.

In fact, it took more energy to pay attention than to let his gaze skip past that concealed fog around him. And yet he’d paid attention anyway.

“I think you just like me,” Keefe said, grin pulling at his lips, lifting his head enough to turn and peer at him. The unhealthy flush spread across his cheeks had starting fading to a lighter pink in the cool air, his eyes still dimly alight with fever, he noticed.

His eyes scanned scarred, warm skin, mussed hair, a silhouette backlit by the soft glow of the room beyond, the silence stretching on, his statement unanswered.

Keefe shifted, pushing off the railing to stand straighter, the two of them almost equal in height, though Keefe stood slightly taller and shamelessly used it to his advantage. “We’re alone; you can admit it, you know.”

That was…much more forward than usual.

Tam rolled his eyes. “All I have to admit is how much more annoying you are than I let on.”

“You hesitated.”

“You’re aren’t thinking clearly.”

Keefe shook his head, looking down the few inches he had on Tam, leaning in closer, unconscious of the movement; Tam was very conscious of it. “Uh uh, I may be fuzzy”--he tapped at his temple, blinking as though fighting to keep his eyes open--”but I noticed. You were thinking about it, weren’t you? You’re always thinking about something.”

Tam’s lips pressed together, averting his eyes, scowling. His gaze flickered to the door, fragments of shadows skittered along the edge of the room in tandem. They were alone, but for how long? How long until the rest of their group finished each of their individual scouting missions, returning to catch them too close in the dark?

He’d spent his life with it as his defense, and yet now its charged silence threatened to turn on him.

“You’re doing it again,” Keefe interrupted, the words fumbled, exhaustion creeping its greedy fingertips around the edges, digging its claws into the vowels.

His voice drew Tam’s gaze back, piercing through the dark. Had Keefe gotten even closer?

How had he missed it?

Tam’s body went rigid, the cool air doing nothing to combat the turmoil stirring in his mind, leaving him to fend for himself. “What--what are you doing? Cut it out.”

Brow furrowing, the words took a moment to pierce through Keefe’s thick skull.

When they did, he took a step away.

He opened his mouth, but closed it again, instead letting out a breath, one hand unconsciously rising to rub at the base of his skull, poking and prodding at what he was now certain was a headache.

Tam latched onto it like a lifeline against the sudden silence, the retreat he’d asked for and dreaded. “Have you--hailed Elwin? He always fixes you up.”

Keefe let his prior comments drop untouched, as though they were never there, snorting, “Elwin’s got enough going on with the gnomes and all the councillor visits. I’m not going to bother him with just a”--he gestured at himself--”cold or something. Whatever it is.”

“He’d want you to,” Tam reminded him, trying to be less…whatever it was about him that had Keefe stepping away. Even though he’d told him to.

Keefe had slumped over the banister again, forehead practically pressed to the railing, goosebumps raised across his skin, shivering now instead of overheating. He didn’t answer.

A few shadows slipped forward, invisible against the descending dark, hedging around the edges of Keefe’s shape, hesitating.

“Keefe.”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” It was more exhale than speaking, the words happening to tumble out at the same time, by chance rather than intention.

Tam frowned, only for a moment before he schooled his expression. “What are you even talking about?”

“When everyone else gets back, are you going to tell them?” Without any force, he gestured to himself.

“That you’re sick? Tell them yourself. Probably won’t even have to, one look at you and it’s obvious.”

Keefe sighed in what might’ve been relief. “Thanks.”

Tam crossed his arms, looking away, eyes scanning over the empty room, shadows creeping through the door searching and searching for others, but there was no one to break the silence that fell once more. They truly were alone, just like Keefe had said.

Why? They weren’t supposed to be. Where was everyone else? Why hadn’t they come back yet?

“You,” Keefe started, though he stayed with his head pressed to his arm against the railing, “are one to talk about funks when you’ve got your own all over you.”

“What?”

Keefe waved a free hand, nonchalant. “You’re so worried I can feel it, and I’m not even touching you.”

Tam glanced down to Keefe’s hands, where they rested against the railing. Close enough that they could reach out and touch him, if they wanted to.

He looked away.

“Did I successfully distract you with my charming personality?” Keefe asked, shifting his head so he could look at Tam, the hint of a smile on his mouth. But…less so. Not as wide as he’d been smiling earlier.

“You talk too much,” he scowled, reaching up to tug at his bangs, the scratch of metal against his fingertips comforting.

Keefe made an indignant noise. “You’re the one who started this conversation, creeping on me from the shadows and telling me to ‘come here.’ This one’s on you. If you didn’t want to talk to me, why ask me to come closer to you? Hypocrite.”

Now it was Tam’s turn to be indignant. “You were feverish, I told you to get over here to cool off--and so you wouldn’t infect the room.”

“Nice to know you care.” Keefe mumbled, eyes rolling.

“Of course I do,” he hissed back, then clamped his mouth shut.

Keefe stilled beside him, but Tam refused to move his gaze from where it bored a hole into the far wall, that frown from before resurfacing as his fingers dug into the railing he leaned on, bones and muscle turning to stone.

Silence screamed for long enough Tam was nearly convinced neither of them would ever speak again, and then--

“You’re gonna pass out if you stay so rigid. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to loosen up once in a while?”

Internally, he flinched, but his body remained impassive. He shot Keefe a glare. “You have to make everything into a joke, don’t you?”

It was Keefe’s turn to flinch, scowling as he looked away--but it lacked any real conviction, lethargy dimming the edges as he sniffled, a slight shiver running through him.

Tam’s frown deepened.

He watched--though if you asked if he’d been watching, he’d deny it--as Keefe’s attention snagged on something he couldn’t see, eyes distant as he flexed his hand over and over.

Flashes of cold nights and running noses, flush cheeks and wondering hoping begging Linh to wake, to be well, to push through the haze and find him again passed through his mind. Searching for herbs but not knowing what to look for, never enough supplies, coughs and setting suns and days stretching into weeks into months into eternity as Keefe faded further and further into that haze, away from him.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. “What?”

Somehow Keefe found a way to slump down even further, resting his head on his arm, squished cheek distorting his words as they spilled out, filter breaking like a dam under his exhaustion. “I don’t get you. You say you’ve been watching me all evening and tell me to come stand next to you, and then get all defensive and upset with everything I say. You’re feeling something strong enough I’m picking up flashes through the air, but I’m not touching you and I can’t think straight so I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t feel great. You say you care and then snap at me, what am I supposed to make of all that?”

Outburst over, Keefe stopped leaning on the rail entirely, instead lowering himself to the ground as he rubbed at his neck, still sniffling, staring off into the dark, sun long since gone.

Tam couldn’t help the lurch in his chest at the sight.

Keefe or the darkness, he couldn’t tell, but the jolt was there all the same.

“You must be worse than I thought if you’re getting all emotionally aware on me,” he peered down at him, trying to distract himself from the stone sitting in his chest.

“Seriously? You were just getting on my ass about making jokes out of everything.”

Shadows pulsed under his palms, swirling with an unidentified heat he didn’t want to think about. “Fine. You have a point there. I…sorry.”

“Whatever.”

Keefe made a dismissive gesture up at him, other hand still flexing, eyes closed now as he rested his face against the railing, legs crossed beneath him. It didn’t look comfortable.

After a few terse moments of debate with himself, both sides screaming adamantly, he huffed out a breath and lowered himself down hard, not giving himself a chance to second guess any longer.

“Do you want to read my emotions?”

Keefe sat up in surprise, looking over at the hand extended in offering.

“What? You’d let me?”

Teeth grinding, words slow, “You said you couldn’t tell through the air. Wouldn’t this help?”

Keefe searched his face as though making sure he was serious, and Tam fervently hoped there wasn’t anything to find as he reached to tug on his bangs. “Make a decision before I change my mind.”

That was all the encouragement Keefe needed, gaze sliding down his body--Tam swore he could feel its weight against his skin like static--to his hand, wrapping two fingers around his wrist as though taking his pulse.

Keefe’s eyelids fluttered as he inhaled, sudden and deep, grip tightening, a furrow between his brows as he pushed through his fatigue and into the maelstrom of emotion he’d been complaining about.

Trying not to squirm beneath the scrutiny, all he could do was watch, entirely unaware of what, specifically, Keefe was finding. What he’d learn.

Was this what it felt like when he read people’s shadow vapor, the sitting and the waiting?

Why had he agreed to this?

Why had he even suggested it?

A small, rebellious voice in the back of his head knew why, but he shoved it away before it could put voice to those thoughts.

“What--” Keefe made a face, scrunching up his nose, soft confusion in his tone, “what are you afraid of?”

Tam started. “I’m not--”

“You do realize you can’t lie to me, right?”

Keefe looked at him with an intensity that made him want to knock the look from his face, to turn around and walk into the night.

He settled for pulling his arm away, breaking the connection--or at least, he tried to.

As his wrist slipped from Keefe’s grip, he caught his hand, fingers brushing against his palm as he squeezed tight.

“Wait. I’m…sorry.” Keefe looked lost, fumbling for words, rubbing at his neck with his free hand. “I…didn’t mean to push you. It’s just a really strong feeling. It surprised me. Is it the thing with the gnomes? Because we’re going to figure it out and fix it.”

“I know that.”

“Then what…?” Keefe trailed off, looking lost, brows furrowing as he tried to think through the fog in his mind.

Tam’s grip tightened involuntarily, memories from his and Linh’s Exillium days flashing through his mind. “I don’t like sickness.”

Keefe nodded, still not quite following. “Well duh, no one does, it sucks--”

“It’s not the same for you,” he interrupted, looking away, leaning back against the railings, peering into the night sky as his stomach clenched. “When you’ve been sick, you’ve always been able to call on the best care your world has to offer, just a hail away. All the supplies you could ever need readily available. You’d be better by the morning as though it’d never even happened, just a slight discomfort, comfortable knowing you’d be just fine. You could take a day off, even. You never had to wonder if there was enough to treat you, if you could find what you needed, not sure when she’d get better and if she’d be okay to go to school, or if you’d have to leave her alone to go and get your beads, hoping you wouldn’t catch it because there wasn’t enough to treat the both of you and someone had to get the beads otherwise you’d be left behind.”

Tam cut off, biting his lip, for once not even caring what Keefe picked up on his palm, too distracted as he tried to get the images of Linh’s flushed cheeks, the shadows under her eyes, the tremor in her fingers as she propped herself against the wall, out of his head.

“Linh got sick,” Keefe whispered, more statement than question, but he decided to answer it anyways.

“Bad. It’d started out just a mild cold she must’ve caught from another wayward--fever, sniffles, headaches,” he glanced at Keefe’s flushed cheeks, blinking uncomfortably as he rubbed at his neck, both all too aware how it matched up with his symptoms, “but it didn’t go away. And we didn’t have anything to treat it with. And it got worse. A lot worse. I hated watching the sun set because she always shivered so badly without the sunlight’s warmth, no matter how hot I made my body. But the worst part was the only reason it got that bad was because we didn’t have any elixirs or treatment--but they exist. We just didn’t have access. And yet you do and throw it away,” he added at the end, bitterness coating his tongue.

Keefe swallowed, thumb pressed into the back of Tam’s hand. “I…guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“No shit.”

For once, Keefe let the attitude slide, an incredibly unsettling phenomenon, because instead he was looking directly at Tam. He was suddenly reminded that with their hands still linked, he could still feel every single one of his emotions.

“What if--what if I promise to take something myself then? I still don't want to bother Elwin--the gnomes have him busy enough--but…you don’t need a physician to take elixirs. There’s probably something somewhere in whatever-the-hell this place is called--I wasn’t listening when Fork man said the name.”

“Me either,” Tam admitted. “It’s probably something stupid. Do you really plan to take something, or are you just saying that?” He couldn’t hide the skepticism in his voice, but Keefe would’ve felt it anyways.

Keefe made an offended noise. “I meant it! I’m trying to make you feel better about your sad life, because Foster keeps getting on my case about being nice to you and she’s so stubborn about it--and maybe I just like you, you ever thought about that?”

Unlike Tam, Keefe didn’t look the slightest bit concerned by the confession, grumpily playing with Tam’s fingers in his hand, poking at the veins beneath his skin. Though maybe he hadn’t thought through the consequences of saying it, or was too tired to.

“Do you?” Tam asked, quiet, braced against the answer.

Was he worried he’d say no?

Or that he’d say yes?

“I do,” he said, eyes on their linked hands, “more than I should.”

A heady rush passed through him, spine tingling as his stomach dropped--relief? Fear?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keefe’s already flushed face reddened further, as his brain started to catch up with where the conversation was headed, pressing his lips together as though he could stop it. But there was no way Tam was letting him walk away without answers and Keefe knew it; he’d opened the floodgates, now he had to ride out the wave. It was his own fault, really.

Sighing, he made a non-committal gesture as though that would explain everything. “We both know it would be better for both of us if…if no one had to put up with me. If I could just keep all my problems and feelings to myself instead of everyone else having to deal with the mess.”

Tam made a face, snapping, “You don’t have any right to say what would be better for me. Don’t make that choice for me.”

Starting back a little, Keefe tilted his head to the side, mouth falling open a touch, glassy eyes searching Tam’s.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t get to decide what is and isn’t worth my time.”

Keefe’s breath caught, tongue between his teeth as he ventured, barely audible, “And me? Am I…?”

Tam didn’t answer for a moment, heartbeat screaming in his ears loud enough he could barely hear himself say, “You’re the empath, you tell me.”

A few moments passed, Keefe’s shaking fingers pressing against the lines of his palm with intention this time.

As the shaking spread, Keefe’s eyes widening as he glanced between him and his palm, Tam added, “Why do you think I invited you over here?”

“...Fresh air?”

Tam rolled his eyes, but tried to keep his voice gentle as he stared ahead. “Because…I wanted to keep an eye on you. Because I care and its--fuck it, its worth my time, alright? Don’t make me say it again.”

Against his better judgment, he glanced at Keefe, only to see a shit-eating grin starting to spread across his lips.

“Don’t push your luck,” Tam grumbled, shifting as he reached for his bangs with his free hand, fingers flexing in Keefe’s grip unconsciously.

Keefe nodded, smile mellowing, lingering until it turned into something uncertain. “Where…where does that leave us?”

Tam didn’t have an answer.

“Us?” he repeated instead.

Reddening, Keefe tried to backtrack, though he still didn’t let go of his hand.

But he was all out of words, quickfire mind finally exhausted, nothing left to shield himself as his mouth gaped and closed, nothing to save himself.

As if he’d ever need saving from Tam.

Scowling, he cursed idiot boys and stupid feelings, shaking his head, pressing his palm firmly against Keefe’s, deliberately thinking the words he didn’t know if he could voice again, bringing the feeling to the forefront of his very self.

I care.

Keefe hissed in a breath through his teeth. “I--oh.”

“Oh?”

“Us.”

It was all he said, but it was all he needed to say in that moment, because suddenly it was no longer a question.

It was an undeniable certainty.

“Alright,” Tam said, nearly lightheaded, “us.”

He didn’t think he minded his hand in Keefe’s anymore, whatever he’d find.

He’d already found exactly what Tam had wanted him to, what he’d been unwilling to admit he’d been hoping he would.

A shiver crawled through Keefe’s body, and for a moment Tam became the empath between the two of them. Unimaginable lethargy pulled at his bones, breath labored through narrowed airways, a fog in his mind trying to drag him into darkness.

They’d left his illness unspoken for a moment, distracted by their…whatever that conversation was, but no longer.

“You need to rest,” Tam instructed, gentle, but firm. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, but Keefe wouldn’t make it easy.

That, as expected, sparked something in Keefe, some last ditch effort to pull himself together. “No, there’s the resurgence, and we still have to reconvene with everyone--” “Please.”

The word surprised them both, stopping them short.

That…wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

But something in Keefe looked uncertain, lost, so he said it again. “Please, Keefe.”

“I…okay,” he deflated, words barely a whisper as he gave in, the bravado he’d put on slipping away, leaving him hunched over, sniffling, chills coating his bare arms on the now cold balcony, washed in the light spilling out from the room behind them.

Tam looked him over, nodding to himself--he believed him, that he’d listen for once in his life, though he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Keefe. “I’ll find wherever their stash of elixirs is and bring them to you--why don’t you sit on the couch, get out of the cold?”

Another tremor ran through him as he finally let Tam’s hand slip from his as the two pushed to their feet in tandem, one much steadier than the other.

And even though their hands didn’t touch, not even the barest of brushes between their fingers, a silent electricity hummed between their bodies, tingling along his skin as they split. Keefe collapsed face first into the couch, groaning, and Tam moved to search the rest of the place in the quiet that followed, haunted by the hollow feeling of skin that hadn’t been touched, but nearly had been.

It didn’t take long for him to find a small, but well-equipped supply of medicinal elixirs, balms, and miscellaneous assortments for small injuries and ailments. He grabbed two he thought would help, shutting the doors behind him as quietly as possible, but they still echoed in the silent place--seriously, where was everyone else?

Had so little time passed that no one else had returned?

He could’ve sworn lifetimes had come and gone on that balcony.

So brief, and yet now the scope of his world had changed, new, undefined tethers drawing him to a certain troublesome boy with no sense of self-preservation or risk sprawled across the entirety of a couch.

Leaning over the back of it, peering down at him, Tam tapped the two vials he held against the back of Keefe’s head, smiling to himself as Keefe swatted half-heartedly at him.

“You already agreed, you don’t get to take it back.”

“I wasn’t going to!” he protested as he shifted to a propped up position, though it had less force than he would’ve expected. “I told you I meant it. I know everyone’s always telling me off for being stubborn, but I don’t always push back. I can make smart decisions.”

He’d believe it when he saw it.

Keefe grabbed the vials, uncorking the first.

Tam blinked as he downed the contents and studiously avoided his gaze. “You’re holding something back.”

Keefe scowled at his matter of fact tone as he downed the second, though his hands shook as he uncorked it. “Fine. Your story about Linh got to me, okay? I don’t want to worry anyone else.”

Of course. He’d never relent for his own sake, only to prevent himself from becoming a burden to others.

Idiot.

Keefe wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, waiting for the elixirs to kick in and for Tam to say something, but he was too busy scanning the room for a blanket, frowning when he came up short. Surely a secret, underground rebel organization trying to fix fundamental problems in their world had enough interior decor sense and time to have decorative blankets somewhere.

Apparently not.

“What are you looking for?”

“A blanket. You’re shivering, but I don’t see any,” he continued, ignoring Keefe’s mouth opening--likely to protest. He always had something to say. Infuriating.

Keefe didn’t like being ignored and rolled his eyes--though he winced with the action, probably aggravating whatever of his headache hadn’t eased yet--and grumbled, “This is ridiculous. I’m not even that cold. What are you even going to do about it without blankets? Share your body heat?”

It took a moment for Keefe to register what he’d just said, but when he did his eyes went wide, mouth snapping shut as he dared a glance at Tam.

He kept his face carefully impassive, but he reached up to tug at his bangs, habit traitorously giving his frazzled state of mind away.

Neither of them spoke for a moment longer--Keefe, because while sick, had the sense to realize he’d given away much more than he’d intended to tonight, and Tam because he had no idea what to do with everything Keefe had given him.

“Careful there, someone might think you actually wanted to be close to me,” Tam deadpanned at last, fingers still in the rough metal, though the joke fell oddly. Like with whatever their new us was, it didn’t fit anymore. Like it was just going through the motions without the venom behind it.

Keefe said nothing, but his gaze flickered, away from Tam’s face--only for a few moments, but long enough for Tam to see him rake it down his body before snapping back, and he could’ve sworn it lingered on his hands.

Tam stopped short, mind going blank. “...do you?”

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to,” was the answer he got, unable to tell if his flush was from sickness or embarrassment as he refused to meet Tam’s eye.

He gave his bangs one final tug before he dropped his hands, blurting out, “When we couldn’t keep warm in the neutral territories--before we’d learned to regulate our temperatures or when we were too tired--we’d share body heat.”

Keefe’s brow furrowed, looking up at him, uncertainty on his face. “...are you offering--”

“Well if you don’t want to--”

“I didn’t say that! You…you’re warm,” he tacked on at the end, trying to find a suitable explanation, but the hesitation gave him away.

Tam stayed silent for a moment, then, “Sit up.”

“I--huh?”

“I said sit up; you’re taking up the whole couch. Unless you want me to crush you with my body weight, I need space,” he continued, but Keefe was already scrambling to push himself up, freeing up a spot that Tam slid into, breath catching as their arms brushed together.

He’d been close to people before--closer, even, usually with Linh.

But something about Keefe’s arm against his jolted through him, every hair on his body standing on end.

“I’m not going to bite,” he said, amused, watching Keefe sit stunned beside him, rigid as a statue, a cornered animal ready to bolt. “Well, probably not.”

Keefe huffed, something sounding like asshole and fuck it spilling past his lips as he shifted closer, their legs pressing together too now, the static between them building, though neither mentioned it.

Quietly, glancing at him for permission as he did so, Keefe reached out and took Tam’s hand; he felt rather than saw the tremor that rocketed through him at the influx of emotions the touch provided, but Keefe just held on tighter.

Their breaths the only sound, they sat like that, pressed together, until Keefe’s shivers had started to abate.

“How are you so warm?” Keefe mumbled suddenly, starting to melt back into the cushions beside him--whether because he was comfortable or exhausted, Tam couldn’t tell. “You’d think a shadow guy would be freezing.”

“Shadow guy?”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

Keefe’s eyes had fallen closed, words slurring, chest moving slow, rhythmic.

Hardly daring to move, Tam watched as Keefe’s muscles gave in to sleep, his head tilting, falling in a slow arc towards him, until Keefe’s cheek was pressed against his shoulder, grip loosening in his hand.

Tam’s breath caught in his throat, but he stayed still--until Keefe started to slip, at just the wrong angle that gravity tried to pull him forward.

Before he could fall further, Tam caught him, grinding his teeth together as he weighed his options.

Gently, he shifted, hardly daring to breath lest he wake Keefe from his much needed nap, and just…adjusted his trajectory slightly.

Instead of falling forward and off the couch, or roughly shoving him back, Tam lowered his head into his lap, hands hovering over the rest of his body uncertainly before he finally let them settle on Keefe’s arm.

A few terse moments later, Keefe gave no sign of stirring, settling into the new position, breaths even--and Tam thought his color had improved too, the elixirs starting to kick in.

There was nothing else to do in the silence that followed but breathe an easy sigh, looking around at the well furnished room--unforgivably devoid of blankets, but otherwise lavish--the steady light, the stable structure, secure in the knowledge that no matter what happened next, he wasn’t--they weren’t--out there still.

That they could get what they needed, and enough of it.

They weren’t the only people looking out for them anymore.

Which brought a different problem to mind: where was everyone else?

Almost as soon as he put thought to the question, something prickled his senses, and the door across the room swung open, Biana bursting in with Linh close behind, breathless.

They stopped short at what they found as Tam tensed, Biana’s mouth falling open and Linh covering a knowing smile with her mouth.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, glaring at them, heart pounding.

The glance the two shared and the grins that followed didn’t bode well for him.

But as Keefe shifted in his lap, sleeping peacefully, safely, recovering, skin soft against his own, he couldn’t quite remember why he cared.

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #kotlc kam #quil's quill #quil's queries #nonsie #look guys I did it! i wrote a fic!#i am putting it out into the world you better be nice with it <3 #also I'm sooo good at titling things <33333 #okay I'll be quiet now enjoy the fic :)#nonsie I hope this satisfies your prompt I kinda created. a whole situation out of it #would've been so much easier if they were already established i don't know why I didn't do that #but hey. love a challenge!#maybe if this isn't enough cuddles I can write a follow up sometime in the future where they're more physically comfortable #i like how I said I'd stop talking and then I didn't #i'l actually stop now. very giddy atm I haven't posted fic in a while this is quite the rush

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