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ravs6709 · 3 months

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An X-Ray Ain't Needed To See Within- Dex Study (ish), Minor Fedex

Word count: 7.9k words

Ao3 link here.

Aaaaaaaand here I am, nearly a whole month late, but my kotlc secret santa gift from @song-tam 's exchange is finally done!

@an-ungraceful-swan I'm your secret santa!!! So sorry for being as late as I am (the shit going on in my personal life was unreal) but I hope this near 8k fic will make up for the wait!

Because I was told to just "surprise you", I let the brain pick out a concept and spun it around in my head until this fic was made

That is, I took the vague premise of a fic from a different fandom -> the idea that every person is to be entrusted with taking care of someone else's heart—quite literally. Other than that, it's basically a canon rewrite of books 1-4 (ish, not all through 4) from dex pov with minor (pre-relationship) fedex

Warnings: depiction of the kidnapping/torture scene from book 1, bug stab Fitz scene from book 4, descriptions of heart anatomy (not too graphic but still fair warning), brief mention of vomit

Hope you enjoy!

•~•~•~•~•~•

"What's that?" A young Dex asked his mom. He'd barged into his parents' room without warning them, and saw Juline holding a heart in her hands, singing softly while Kesler held her hand with one hand, holding a different heart in the other.

"They're hearts," Juline said, but Dex knew that much.

"Why?" There were a whole slew of questions, like why the hearts were beating despite not being connected to a body, or why they were coloured in different shades of blue and green and yellow even though they should have been red, or where they even got a heart from. Dex was just barely older than a toddler, and while elves were born with some understanding of the world around them from birth, he’d never seen this before.

Kesler and Juline shared a look, and Dex didn't like that his mom was starting to frown. Was this supposed to be a secret?

"I don't want him to know everything yet," Juline said.

"He'll have to know eventually," Kesler said, "and it's not that bad."

Juline raised an eyebrow. "Tell me you weren't terrified when you first held a heart in your hand. I know I was."

"Fine, yes, but we'll help him adjust. The risk is minimal, very few have--"

"But she was one of them. Kesler, please," Juline said, her voice quiet, "We'll wait until he's older, okay? He’ll already have enough on his plate as is."

Kesler closed his eyes and took a breath, then squeezed her hand. "Sorry, I didn't think of her--okay. We’ll wait."

"Wait until I'm old enough for what?" Dex asked.

His parents both startled, turning to look at him, as if they'd forgotten he was right there.

Juline hummed, letting go of Kesler's hand so that she could trace gentle lines across Dex's face. "I'll tell you a little bit, but I won't tell you the rest until you're older, okay? Once it’s relevant to you."

"How much older?"

"Three years," Kesler answered.

For Dex, that sounded like a really long time. But as young as he knew he was, he was old enough to be able to tell when there were certain topics that made his parents upset. Abilities were one of them. Discussing the triplets with the other elves was another. He didn't know all the details, but he knew that the other elves didn't like his parents and they thought his siblings were wrong, and he knew they didn't like talking about those things in front of him.

Dex nodded. "Okay."

Juline held the heart out to him. "When you grow older, you'll have a heart to take care of."

The heart in her hand was a myriad of colours, it reminded him of Slurps and Burps with all the random splotches of colours all over it.

"Does it bleed?" Dex asked.

Juline smiled at him. "No, it doesn't. Do you want to touch it?"

He nodded, curious. When she held the heart out to him, he gently traced a finger along an artery. It was warm. It really was beating, and he didn’t imagine it.

“It represents the heart of another elf."

"Another elf?"

"It represents your dad's heart. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Dad's heart?" Dex looked at Kesler, who had a fond look on his face. He was cradling a heart of his own in his hands, this one lacked the same colourful whimsy, but the various shades of blue with hints of colour had Dex thinking that it suited his mother. He opened his mouth to ask if elves always married the person who held their heart, then realized that was a stupid question because the elves didn't like his parents' marriage.

"Will I get a heart to hold too?" Dex asked.

"Yeah. You will."

•~•~•~•~•~•

What Dex assumed to be "several years later," Dex woke up and found a teal heart on the nightstand beside his bed. Blue-green, with hints of navy and gold that seemed to trace along where the blood would have flowed had the heart been in an actual body.

He'd had full intention of just lazing in bed for the entire morning, but he knew he had to tell his parents. He took the heart in his hands, beating softly, a rhythm unfamiliar to him. He walked to his parents room--they were already awake, Kesler preparing for work, while Juline was gently carrying her husband’s heart.

"Dex?" Kesler asked, "what's up--oh."

"It's about time he received his heart to hold," Juline said. "Dex, come sit down on the bed."

He sat down. Despite how he'd seen them direct plenty of fond looks towards their own hearts, neither of them seemed particularly excited to talk about his heart.

"To have a heart means to take care of it. But there's more to it than that, isn't there?" Dex asked.

"Let me be blunt with you," Juline said. She looked pained, her turquoise eyes slightly dull. "You must take care of your heart. If you do not take care of it well, the person who that heart belongs to will die."

To the average elf, it would probably have an initial shock. Elves lived forever, as far as they all knew. Elvin deaths were rare, a few wanderlings planted, but still, only a few.

To Dex, he himself had never witnessed a death. He had never known, never had been in this world long enough to know, but still, he knew, he knew that his family was haunted by a death from before he was born, and that because of it, he rarely ever got to see his aunt and uncle because they isolated themselves from everyone else. He'd never be able to grow up knowing her.

"Did cousin Jolie's heart..?"

"Her body was in a condition where she could have lived," Juline said, looking away. "But her heart–her heart had been burnt too much in the fire."

"Oh," he said, because what else could he say?

"To take care of that heart, you must keep it physically safe. But not just that, you also need to keep it emotionally safe too. An emotional or mental issue can be just as severe as a physical one."

"So I'll need to keep it around me often," Dex understood.

Kesler nodded, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "It'll be fine. Elf hearts aren't too fragile, so don't stress too much, okay?" Then looked down at his heart that was Juline's, the blues looking slightly pale. "You'll be able to recognize signs beforehand." He traced along an artery, and Dex watched as his mother closed her eyes, the tension releasing from her shoulders. Vibrancy flowed through like blood, painting it. "I know you'll take care of it well."

•~•~•~•~•~•

On occasion, Dex noticed how the heart would react differently. It wasn't at any regular occurrence, though it always seemed to last a few hours at a time. When that happened, he held the heart closer, turning it over in his palm. It tended to have a slow, steady pulse; the beat of a drum, the tick of a clock. Slow, steady, controlled, but during the odd moments the heartbeat would grow faster and weaker, like panic seeping into his bloodstream sometimes, when it made his skin all clammy and pale. It was the gold of the heart that would fade first, then the navy, though the teal always seemed to stay intact. At least though, the heart didn't get clammy like his hands would. No gross sweat or blood, just a beating heart.

He wasn't sure why, but sometimes he got the feeling that the elf the heart belonged to was kind of lonely. He'd seen Kesler's heart, bright and vibrant. Even Juline's had its own sort of uniqueness to it. The heart he held was beautiful, a piece of art, but distant. A painting that was not allowed to be touched after having been made.

Dex wondered how old the other elf was. The heart in his hands was smaller compared to his Kesler's or Juline's, so maybe it was possible that they were around Dex's age? He'd hope so. He'd be starting Foxfire at some point, it'd be nice if he had a friend there. One that wouldn't mind Dex being the son of a bad match, one who wouldn't be too judgmental.

•~•~•~•~•~•

When Dex started Foxfire, he had high hopes. Hopes that were quickly crushed. As he walked in the hallways, he could sense gazes following his path. No table ever wanted to let him sit there, so he tried finding random corners in the hallways to eat by himself, until one of his mentors noticed and took pity on him, allowing him to eat in that classroom. There was Stina, who openly insulted his family, so he got his revenge only for the situation between them to escalate.

And then there was Fitz Vacker. His first meeting with Fitz wasn't special, he happened to be with his dad and sister as customers for Slurps and Burps, and just like all the stuffy nobles, both him and Biana Vacker cringed at the sight of his family's apothecary. Maybe he wouldn't even have remembered him if he wasn't a Vacker. There were tons of people who shopped at the apothecary only to never acknowledge him in Foxfire. But then he saw Fitz again. And again. And again. In the hallway on his way to class. In the cafeteria as they waited in line to get the same food. The winner of the splotching tournament--had been, for years, if the screaming was to be believed.

Fitz was everywhere, popular, so many of the girls had a crush on him. He heard non-stop mooning about whether the heart they held would belong to him. Top marks, perfect looks. Dex was sick of it. Fitz wasn't special.

It made him almost want to hate the heart that he held, that teal heart that matched his eyes. He scoffed at the thought that the person whose heart he held was Fitz, or even Biana. Yet it was still a beating heart, his to nurture, and no matter how much the colour irritated him. Somewhere out there, there was someone who was relying on him. The thought alone pushed him forward.

•~•~•~•~•~•

During his next year at Foxfire, a new elf named Sophie Foster came out of nowhere. She lived with Aunt Edaline and Uncle Grady, she was an elf that once lived with humans. If that weren't cool enough, she didn't seem to care about his family and their status. Yeah, sure, it was because she didn't really know anything, period, but she still took the information in stride and chose to be friends with him.

And she was kind of cute. And smart, and totally fun--she'd gotten on Stina's bad side and destroyed Lady Galvin's cape. And...

And of course she liked Fitz. Because of course she did. Why wouldn't she? The perfect guy.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Is that a--is that a heart?" Sophie asked.

They were taking a break in between one of Sophie's alchemy tutoring sessions, and Dex had grabbed his heart to unwind.

"Yeah? Why do you sound surprised? Don't you have one of your own?"

"No???"

Huh. That was weird. "Wonderboy didn't mention it to you or anything?"

"No??? Is this a normal elf thing?"

"Each elf gets a heart to take care of, it represents the heart of another elf. It's important, because breaking the heart means killing the elf."

"Oh. Am I exempt from this, because I don't remember a heart? Or did I accidentally kill an elf?"

"You're probably fine. While the elf who holds your heart isn't the only elf who can take care of your heart," he began, "the fact that you haven't died yourself says something. Besides, elvin deaths are super rare, remember? I can't remember the last time there was a Wanderling--Wylie Endal's mother, maybe?"

There had been a change in her facial expression, but Dex decided not to press. The Council actually explored that, ensuring there was no risk of attachment. Besides, the elf that Jolie loved--Brant, if Dex recalled his name correctly--was still alive as he proceeded to take care of his own scarred heart. That's what his mom had told him when he'd asked.

"Huh," Sophie said. "Well, whoever's heart I was supposed to take care of, I hope they're doing well."

"Yeah," Dex murmured, "me too."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie started hanging out with Fitz and Biana, much to his annoyance. Like, going to his house on a constant basis hanging out. She even had him promise to keep the Wonderboy bashing to a minimum.

(But she also considered him her best friend, so he supposed he could take it as a win.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie. A Vacker. Or, potentially a Vacker. Grady and Edaline had cancelled her adoption, and she could be adopted by the Vackers. Siblings with Fitz and Biana? Gross.

Maybe he was too harsh on Sophie when he'd told her not to trust them. But she didn't understand—they didn't look at people below them and view them as equals. And it was proven as such, when Stina, of all people, exposed Biana for only having befriended Sophie because her dad told her to.

I told you so, he wanted to tell her so badly, but they were in Study Hall. Do you see what they're truly like—

"Dex?" A voice called out, and he nearly jolted as he realized that Fitz was talking to him. Ugh.

"What?" he asked, the acid in his voice so strong even Fitz flinched as if he’d been burned.

"You need to be with her."

"You two are the ones who caused this mess—"

"She won't talk to us. She needs you."

Dex almost started screaming at him for cutting him off, but the words made him freeze. He paused, took a deep breath. "Am I supposed to put in a good word for you? Newsflash, Wonderboy, I'm not doing that."

Fitz sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just be there. I don't-- I don't want her to be alone."

And that got Dex standing up, immediately grabbing his stuff. Damn it, leave it to Wonderboy to get him to realize that Sophie's comfort meant more than his own petty sense of righteousness.

When he made it to the cave at Havenfield, something felt off. He took a few tentative steps forward. Another few steps, and a voice that sounded like Sophie's rang out in his head, telling him to run. Before he could even think, someone grabbed him from behind, shoving a cloth over his mouth.

No, he thought. Sophie. He fought against his captor and...

•~•~•~•~•~•

He woke up, restrained. Everything was dark and he could barely breathe and it was burning it was burning—

In the off moments where he was awake and not burning until he fell unconscious again, he would barely be able to muster worried thoughts. His parents, how were they doing? The triplets.

Sophie. Sophie, who must be somewhere close and was also in the same situation and she was being tortured too. His heart. The one he normally held wasn't with him since he kept it at his house when he attended Foxfire, but what about the elf who held his heart? Did the elf care?

He fought against his restraints, managed to break free of them.

He'd barely made it two steps before a voice said, "One more step, and the girl dies."

"We should just kill him anyway," another voice said. "He's useless to us. A hindrance."

Dex sank back onto the chair, feeling absolutely useless for not being able to do anything.

•~•~•~•~•~•

When he woke up, he was in some unfamiliar area with Sophie, no kidnappers in sight. Turned out that they were in the Forbidden Cities. But that was fine, they were safe. Well, for now. Apparently there were a lot of secrets that Sophie had kept hidden from everyone. A telepath.

He'd also at some point manifested as a technopath. Huh. He was relieved that he had an ability, but ugh, did it have to be technopathy? It wasn't nearly as cool as telepathy.

The kidnappers had come again, one of them wielding a fucking melder, and as he was shot by it once, twice, and he was incapacitated on the floor, he could vaguely see Sophie trembling in rage as they all fell over. He couldn’t move, talk, or even see, but he knew when Sophie had picked him up to leap despite them being too injured and—

•~•~•~•~•~•

When Dex woke up again, he was laying in a bed. He had half a mind to just sink into the soft comfort of the bed, but as he woke up, all his senses awakened: the burns on his skin, the sting from the melder.

"Sophie," he gasped.

"Hey, relax," a voice said, and Dex opened his eyes to see Keefe staring at him. "You can't get out of bed yet."

"But Sophie--"

"Foster's alive," Keefe said, "she's alive, and Elwin's going to see her before he comes to see you."

Dex tried to pull himself into a sitting position, but it hurt too much, and Keefe had to help him out. "Is she okay?"

Dex watched as Keefe paused. His eyes closed, as he took a deep breath. He turned away, then back at him, and Dex had a feeling that he wasn't going to like what his answer was going to be. As if delaying to increase the weight of impact, turning to the desk next to him and picking up a heart.

"This is the heart I hold, it belongs to Foster," Keefe said. "I realized it when... well. You'll see."

Dex sucked in a breath. The heart, brown and gold and red looked so frail in his hands, just barely beating. The entire left side was nearly transparent, from ventricle all the way up to the aorta. He could actually see the red flow of blood, slow but not steady.

"The light leap," he realized. He remembered being carried, remembered being leaped. All of him was intact, not a single cell faded away, and he wasn't conscious enough to provide his own concentration to leap them. Sophie she-- she put everything into him.

"Foster's alive," Keefe repeated, "and Elwin's going to see her."

Dex stared at the heart that Keefe had, desperately hoping that she'd be okay. Looked at every heartbeat, to see if each pulse would become slower paced. So when the heart was still faded and Elwin had walked into this room, he was worried.

"Sophie's sedated, and I can't lie and say that she's okay right now," he explained before Dex could start rapid-fire asking questions, "but I can't do much else for now without waiting to see if what I've done for now will let her heal. So for now, I'll work with you."

Dex had been to Elwin once or twice for minor incidents at Foxfire for his elementalism class, and while getting healed wasn't bad, it wasn't really something he liked per se. However, there was no trace of discomfort as he could only focus on Sophie. His eyes couldn't leave the half-faded heart.

Elwin's gaze followed his own. "That's... a weird heart. Sophie's, I'm guessing?"

Dex nodded.

"That's probably good to keep close, given Sophie's already high attendance at the Healing Centre."

Elwin had said it as a joke, but neither him, Dex, nor Keefe felt like laughing.

"Are you going to tell her about the heart?" Dex asked.

Keefe paused, surprisingly hesitant considering what he knew of him. "You two are close, have you seen the heart she has yet? Would you say it reflects me well?"

"Sophie doesn't have one with her," Dex said. "She's got no memory of ever seeing a heart like that."

Though, now knowing what he knew, Dex guessed that the Black Swan probably had her heart? Since no human would be so accepting of a living, beating heart.

Keefe blinked. "Oh. Then... I guess I won't tell her yet. Don't tell anyone else either? At least-- not until she gets her own." He looked back up at Elwin, and Dex had forgotten that he was even there. Elwin nodded.

After the worst of Dex's injuries were healed, Keefe and Elwin left to go see Sophie, while he was ordered to rest for a bit. He knew that sleep wouldn't come easy, but the stress of everything had kicked in and eventually he was knocked out. At some point, the door had opened, quiet but enough to rouse him into consciousness. He was too tired to open his eyes. Footsteps approached the bed, close, stopping a few steps away. There was the sound of a heart beating, maybe. He could feel his own heart in his chest beating in time to the sound.

"It’s you..." A whisper sounded out. Quiet, low, familiar.

He wanted to open his eyes and see who was there, to see if it was who he thought it was (not that it made any sense at all for him to be here), but it was nice and warm in bed, his heart feeling warmer than ever as he drifted back to sleep.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Dex!" Bex called, running up to him and hugging him. His two brothers joined the call, all of them shoving to hold him close. Dex wrapped his arms around them.

His parents stood slightly off to the side, their skin paler than he remembered. Both of their hair was messy, and he could see as they clung to each other's hands.

"Don't leave us ever again," Rex cried, smearing his tears on his shirt. Neither of the other two triplets made fun of him for crying as they both fought back their own tears.

Dex could only nod, his throat too choked up to speak. He could only hope that would be true.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Weeks passed, and slowly, Sophie recovered from having almost fading away. He'd spent his fair share of the time alternating between hanging near Keefe to stare at Sophie's heart, and taking care of the heart that he had.

His own heart... during the kidnapping, what had it looked like? Did it mirror his state too? Had there been burns all over it? He could vaguely picture someone cradling it, oh so confused as to what was going on. Did they panic? He supposed that no one had been able to connect the timing of it all back to his disappearance, given that nobody came in rushing to tell him.

Then again, who would have wanted to admit that they held Dex Dizznee's heart?

•~•~•~•~•~•

For the next few weeks, everything went back to normal. Sort of. He visited Sophie to help her with the animals at Havenfield, helped his dad at the store, sat in his room and tinkered with gadgets—this time using his ability.

He'd tried working on a variety of inventions, his major priority having been a device that would somewhat replicate telepathy.

He also had a side project, he wondered if it was possible to be able to know the heartbeats when he was not with the heart.

His parents were concerned, rightfully, but they were getting way too on his case. Between them and looking after his siblings, he felt suffocated.

But other than that, things were back to normal-ish (if he ignored the nightmares and the constant dread he felt).

...until Sophie found an alicorn, then suddenly she had a whole bunch of secrets she couldn't tell him, and she was so busy that he could barely even see her. Both Fitz and Biana weren't coming to Foxfire.

The heart he had, it was doing something weird, and it had him panicking. It was slightly swollen, the arteries and veins bulging a faint red, not unlike the way the veins in his hands would when he clenched his fists trying to hold back his anger at the triplets for breaking yet another thing of his. But that kind of anger was situational, just a brief moment. Maybe at worst, lasting a day, if he was having a really bad day.

The heart represented an elf's physical and mental state. He didn't know much about how hearts worked physically, but Dex had the feeling that the problem with the other elf wasn't physical. Obviously though, everyone would go through a variety of feelings, and not every feeling could be reflected from moment to moment.

So the problem was clearly mental, and it was clearly huge. The weird bulging persisted for one, two, three, more days.

"So, just the three of us?" Marella asked during lunch. "Again?"

Sophie and Keefe had ended up in detention, so the group at the lunch table was the smallest it'd been in a while.

"Something's clearly up," Dex said.

Marella rolled her eyes. "Obviously. The Vackers not being here is proof of that."

The group fell into an awkward silence, and not even Jensi's generally uplifting demeanor could ease it.

"The heart I have has been acting weird," Dex said suddenly.

Matters of the heart were generally kept private, but he didn't want to keep it to himself, and he didn't really want to tell his parents yet, even though they'd probably have some kind of solution.

"Weird how?" Jensi asked.

"It's getting all bulge-y, it's kinda gross."

"Mine's been paler than normal lately," Marella said. "Not quite shrinking in on itself, but curling weirdly. It almost feels like it wants to hide away. Been like that for a few days now."

Nobody said anything else after that, and they went back to eating their lunches in silence.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The whole elf heart scare had him working harder on his invention. He couldn't keep the heart on him at all times, it was too fragile to do so. But he needed to know. Needed to know if the heart would burst.

When it was revealed that Alden's mind had broken, when his wanderling had been planted and he'd learned that Fitz was blaming Sophie, he almost thought that it'd be another thing for Dex to hate Fitz for.

He thought back to the heart, ready to burst, and Fitz's explosive anger. This much... this much he didn't think he could hate Fitz for, even if he was being an ass. He thought of his parents trying to keep him in his house, the triplets telling him what they'd been like while he'd been proclaimed dead.

Fitz's own manifestation was a stranger to him in the sense that Dex had never been in that state before, but understandable nonetheless. If he didn't dislike Fitz, if they'd became friends, maybe Dex would comfort him.

But Dex did dislike him, and they weren't friends, and so Dex turned all his attention towards the heart. It was the only thing he could really do, while Sophie had her own things to do and Keefe was helping her.

Nothing he did seemed to work, but whether the other elf had gotten over it or if circumstances had changed, the swelling had eventually gone down and the heart looked normal again. The beats were slightly unsteady, but the heart didn't look like it was ready to burst.

(He tried to not think about the timing of it all.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

Someone decided to be a snitch and tell Dame Alina that he'd manifested as a technopath. Ugh. He blew up on Sophie a bit, and then learned from Dame Alina that the Council had told her.

The Council.

The Council? They cared about his ability? Enough to have his mentor be Lady Iskra? The most famous technology who invented like... everything cool. Sure, his ability wouldn't do much, but he got to work with Lady Iskra.

•~•~•~•~•~•

He finished the heart monitor, and then began to work on a panic switch for Sophie, because the kidnappers would come again. He knew it. He made them both into rings, and he gave Sophie the panic switch ring. And yeah, he knew that a ring wasn't the greatest, but it was the best option he had.

He could see it on her face though, that she wanted nothing to do with it. Half of Foxfire were talking about their matching rings, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Sophie needed other ways to be able to reach out. Not just to Fitz via telepathy, but also to him.

Because he was important too. She was his best friend. He was her best friend, as she'd called him. But lately, he didn't feel like that was the case.

•~•~•~•~•~•

His next invention was an ability enhancer. Sophie was going to heal Fintan, which was definitely going to be dangerous, and she needed to be able to have every card in her favour. An Ancient's mind wouldn't be easy to penetrate.

But when he told her about his invention, she didn't want it. She didn't seem to trust him. But she trusted Fitz, enough to let him past her blocking apparently. Because they had a "connection."

What about her connection with him? Did they not matter?

"Seriously?" Fitz asked, staring at the circlet. He couldn't for the life of him tell if that was curiosity or disgust, but when Keefe grabbed it out of his hands, he forgot all about that.

Dame Alina told him to put it away and for them to all be quiet, and he was hurt that Sophie didn't even consider using it.

I think... A voice said in his head, and he jolted when he realized it was Wonderboy. I think it's cool, but it's too risky.

Seriously?

This entire task is risky, he thought, carefully trying to not think of anything too awful.

I know. But that's exactly why we can't use it yet.

Was that Fitz's way of comforting him, or what?

We can't rely on technology to replace telepathy in this situation.

Wonderboy, get out of my head, he thought bitterly, turning his gaze down to his notebook as reread all his notes on the circlet.

...surprisingly, Fitz left without another word.

What was even the point of that? He didn't understand, he would never understand. What would someone as privileged as him know what Dex was feeling, to be able to even attempt comforting him?

•~•~•~•~•~•

As the healing proceeded and Dex was just stuck at home, he couldn't just sit and rest. His siblings were running around screaming as though everything were normal, but everything was not normal.

He alternated between holding the heart, fidgeting with the ability enhancer and looking at his panic switch. When the heart started beating fast, somehow Dex knew that something was wrong. And even though he knew he wasn't capable of helping at all, he rushed out to see his parents—

—only to find his dad just as distressed as he was.

"Dad, what's wrong?" He asked, trying to swallow his panic.

Kesler only said one word, but that was enough: "Everblaze."

He started rushing out, grabbing all his alchemy supplies and Dex followed after him.

"No," Kesler grabbed his shoulders, and Dex froze. "You can't come."

No no no absolutely not. "You'll need every alchemist."

"I said you can't come, Dex. And that's final."

They're in danger, he wanted to say, and he had no idea if he was talking about Sophie and the others, or the elf whose heart he held.

When Kesler left, Dex didn't even take off his shoes. He kept staring at his ring, wondering if Sophie would call for him.

...of course, she didn't.

The next few hours passed by in a blur, even though he was just holed up in his room. He kept himself busy, and was surprised when his dad came back, Councilor Terik accompanying him. What was a Councilor doing in his house--his room? It was even weirder when Kesler nodded at him and left the two of them alone.

"Dex Dizznee, the technopath. I see you've got quite the workstation here."

Dex bowed, flushing at his words. Was that supposed to be a compliment? An insult?

"Dame Alina mentioned that you were working on an ability enhancer?"

"Y–yeah. I am. It's untested, and—"

"Can I test it?"

"Um," Dex said, not knowing how to reply to that. "I designed it with telepathy in mind specifically, so it wouldn't work on you."

"I see. I think your inventions have great potential, Mister Dizznee."

"Really?" Dex asked, beaming. A Councilor thought he showed potential? "You think it'll work?"

Councilor Terik smiled at him, a thin, wan smile. "Maybe not an enhancer. But... an ability restrictor, possibly."

Dex could tell what he was talking about. If Fintan didn't have his pyrokinesis, he wouldn't have set Everblaze.

"But that's not what I wanted to ask you about. The Council would like your help in the creation of weapons."

He mouthed the word, hating how it felt on his tongue. Weapons. Elves didn't usually use weapons.

...but Dex had a weapon used on him, and he could still remember the shock of the melder—

"I'll do it," he said.

His own inventions, needed by the Council. To think the Council would want help from a Dizznee. If only Stina could hear this, see that Councilor asked for his help specifically, had thought he displayed potential in his talents. No one would talk bad about him or his family again.

"I'll get back to you on what kind of weapons that we will want soon. I'll also be bringing up the restrictor with the others, so it may be possible that we'll ask you to create one."

Dex nodded, and Councilor Terik left.

•~•~•~•~•~•

No. No no no, it couldn't be like this. They'd told him that the restrictor would be used on people who needed their abilities taken away, and Dex had imagined those black-cloaked figures, those murderers.

He didn't think it'd be used on Sophie.

He watched as she convulsed in pain, falling to the floor, curling up. A few cries had escaped her, and nothing could be more haunting than that.

Apologies spilled from his lips, and when Sophie looked at him, she looked so broken.

"I'm not having anything more to do with this," he said to the Council, "I'm not helping you with that."

"And need I remind you that disobeying a direct order from the Council is an exile-able offense?" Councilor Emery asked.

He didn't care if he went to Exile. Not if it meant this.

"It's okay, Dex," Sophie said, "Just do what they're saying."

"How can you say that?" He asked, his voice cracking.

How could she bear that pain? Bear her abilities being taken away, becoming Talentless, and knowing it was due to the hands of someone who proclaimed to consider her his best friend? How could he live like this? It was a betrayal. And he couldn't do anything, he couldn't fix it, because they threatened to exile his family.

He thought... he truly thought he was helping. Making a difference. Being useful.

But never in his life did he feel more useless than he did now.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie drank slumberry tea. A sedative. Something he knew she refused to use. He visited Sophie, apologizing uselessly, and he came across the others--her friends. They were Sophie's friends, not his.

Unsurprisingly, none of them were able to meet his eye. None of them jumped him, beat him or anything like that, and he supposed that was the best he could ask for. For a moment, he thought he'd felt Fitz's gaze on him, and he wondered if Fitz was going to transmit in his brain again like he did earlier. When he looked at Fitz, he turned away, and his mind remained silent.

...he wasn't sure why that hurt, considering he didn't like Fitz, and Fitz sure as hell wouldn't like him. It's not like anything he could have said would make things better.

(But anything, anything, would feel better than the ashamed glances directed at him.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

He had Sophie promise to use her panic switch if she needed anything, but he didn't think she'd use it so soon. She wasn't at Havenfield. He leaped there as soon as he could, and saw Everblaze burning.

A pyrokinetic, holding a ball of fire ready to be thrown at Sophie and Grady. Dex didn't think, he ran and tackled the elf. It bought Sophie a few seconds, but the elf had grabbed him by the throat, his voice that had haunted his nightmares. Fingertips searing his skin just like his memories.

With the help of another invention he made, he was able to send Brant--he was pretty sure he was Brant, based on the little he'd heard--reeling, and they restrained him. He was ready to make sure Brant was captured, but Brant knew about the Black Swan's ambush.

He didn't hesitate to take off that circlet from her head, throwing it into the Everblaze. The Council could exile him, that's fine with him. But he refused to let anything happen to his friends.

•~•~•~•~•~•

After everything, the Council would be after them. Sophie was planning to run away to the Black Swan, and he knew that he wouldn't let her go without him. They left for there, Keefe, Fitz, Biana too. It was weird, being roommates with Fitz and Keefe. He hadn't exactly been friends with them--eating lunch together at Foxfire had always been more about their mutual friendship with Sophie.

The riddles unfortunately did not stop, but at least they were assigned a mission. Of course, that didn't stop them from doing their own snooping.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Did Mr. Forkle ever give you your heart?" Dex asked Sophie.

"I did try asking once," Sophie replied. Her face scrunched in annoyance. "He said it'd be a distraction. I mean, come on, I get to be the freaky brown-eyed elf with lots of abilities, and they think I can't take care of a heart? I feel bad for whoever's heart that is, I'm sure the Black Swan's too busy to notice every detail."

"I'd feel bad for them too," Dex said, trying not to think about how Keefe's mom was a part of the Neverseen. That heart would definitely need a lot of comfort.

"Are you two talking about hearts?" Fitz asked, walking into the room, holding a heart in his hand.

Huh. He never thought he'd actually see Wonderboy holding one. It was on the smaller end, blue and rusty copper and bits of green.

"Oh, that's cool, can I touch it?" Sophie asked.

Fitz's eyes flitted to him for a moment, then nodded.

"Is it hard to find out whose heart belongs to who?"

"Depends," Dex shrugged. "If the elves are already close with each other, then they're more likely to figure it out."

"It's not a documented system like Matchmaking is, so there are plenty of elves near ancient who probably have no idea who their heart belongs to," Fitz added.

"So I'm guessing it'd be stupid to ask if you knew who your heart belonged to?" Sophie asked.

Surprisingly, Fitz tensed. Both him and Sophie started staring into each other's eyes. Probably having a telepathic conversation. Gross. He waited a minute before he pretended to gag, and the two jolted.

"You should... tell them," Sophie said quietly.

"I know," Fitz replied, his voice just as soft, "but they won't be ready to hear it. I don't want them to feel obligated."

Ew, they were still ignoring that he was there. And what was that about what Fitz said? Feel obligated? People would give the world to be able to brag about holding Fitz's heart, even if it wasn't romantic. But like everyone had a crush on him anyway, so how on earth would it be an obligation?

He was surprisingly loyal, got angry and spiteful like everyone else, that golden image just a coverup. Not as perfect as what they all thought him to be, but he was a good friend. He was willing to run away from his perfect life and perfect family, to side with Sophie. To do everything in his power to help his world.

And that, Dex could respect.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dex had spent days practicing working on the lock from Exile so that they could rescue Prentice. He was a little worried when Sophie's directions were apparently taking them to the surface. Even more so when the lock was changed, and they couldn't even access the inside of the cell.

The Council even showed up, trapping them. Things were escalating, and Mr. Forkle was ready to turn himself in. But not if Dex could help it. He'd brought several different small cubes with him, in case anything happened. The first filled the room with burning green mist, the second squawked and served as further distraction.

The third was zapped by Councilor Zarina, and--

It was going to explode.

"Everybody get down!" He screamed, but the room was too loud and no one could hear him.

No one but Fitz, who grabbed it and flung it away from them all. But not in time for the explosion to send him flying, landing right on the sharp horn of an arthropleura.

He was running before Sophie could even scream stop, was already kneeling at his side. Dex reached for his chest to stop the bleeding, only to see that one of his hands had already been stained with blood without having even touched him yet. It dripped down his palm, originating from one of his rings.

No.

He hadn't known his ring could do such a thing, but he knew what it meant.

Fitz got sent flying because of his own gadget. And he wasn't stupid to not realize why his ring that monitored the heart would suddenly start streaming blood staining his hands. He hated that he couldn't tell which of the blood came from Fitz, and which came from the monitor of his heart as it all mixed together. He just knew he had to fix this. He had to, because he couldn't let Fitz die like this. The blood was thickening from the venom, and it didn't look good.

Dex took his chance and leapt out of Exile with Fitz, where an elf with a sparkly mask was waiting.

"You're back quicker than I thought, where—oh." She froze when she saw Fitz in his arms, and they both carried him to the medical room. "Are the others still there?"

He nodded. "He needs a physician, can you get them?"

The other elf was hunting through cabinets, pulling out several vials and bottles and salves. "Physic, resident physician. I'll take care of him from here. It'll be really messy."

He opened his mouth to protect that nothing that he could see could be messier, she repeated that he should go, and she'd give updates.

He reluctantly agreed, and went to wash his hands dry of the blood. But the ring was still bleeding, and when he picked up the heart, it wasn't in great condition either. The gold lines were black with venom, and it had left a bloody mess on the nightstand. He grabbed a basic first aid kit and a bunch of towels and sat on the floor by the fireplace, carefully tending to the wounds on the heart. He hoped that bandaging the heart would help slow down the bleeding in Fitz's body. If nothing else, he could do this much.

Now that he looked back at the heart, wasn't it obvious that it belonged to Fitz? Teal like his eyes--something which had long bothered him, but he'd grown used to, gold like his image he always portrayed.

Fitz's heart, huh. That's whose heart he held.

When the others arrived back, they all stared at the bloody heart in his hands, but they said nothing. He didn't say anything either, taking comfort in every beat, because every heartbeat was proof that Fitz was still living.

Mr. Forkle told them that Fitz had stabilized, and they all rushed to his room. And oh. He looked even worse than Dex had thought. Black spiderwebs painted his chest. It looked even worse than it had on his heart earlier. Maybe his heart would've reflected it too, if it weren't currently bandaged.

"Oh, you have his heart?" Physic asked, turning to Dex. "That'll make his recovery from near death go smoother. You should've told me earlier."

"I only just found out," he mumbled, reluctantly handing her Fitz's heart.

"Good thinking for bandaging it. I had thought that the bleeding had gone down easier than expected."

She went back to treating Fitz, and it was messy and the vomit was disgusting, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He had to stay. Once Physic was no longer needed in the room, he decided that he and Fitz should probably talk.

Fitz looked at him, and Dex didn't know if he wanted to meet his gaze or look away. He settled for looking at his neck.

"How long did you know?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Know what?"

"Don't play dumb." He picked Fitz's heart off the table from when Physic left it there. "This."

"A while... your kidnapping."

Dex tensed. Since then? He knew since then? Though, with the burns, maybe it wasn't hard to figure out.

"And you never told me?"

"Would you have wanted to hear it?"

He let out a breath. It wouldn't. He would've hated it. He would've hated the irony that the elf he'd hated most held his heart.

His silence must have been enough of an answer, as Fitz didn't say anything else.

"I'm sorry," Dex said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. The heart in his hand both comforted him and pissed him off at the same time. "I almost got you killed."

"You were trying to get us out of there," Fitz said, smiling weakly at him, "and we made it out. You don't have to blame yourself for this, you wouldn't predict Councilor Zarina's electricity."

"Not just that. I'm sorry for hating you so much. I'll try to hate you less."

Fitz blinked. "Why do you hate me?"

He almost wanted to roll his eyes, it felt like such a stupid question. But it wasn't like he had a good reason to hate Fitz at this point either.

"You're everything I'm not. I hated it."

Those few words couldn't represent the waves of emotions that had flooded him for years, but he didn't know how to say it.

"I..." He said, knowing he was going to sound stupid for saying it, "I wanted you to notice me."

The heart in his hands skipped a beat.

"Do you-- do you want to try being friends?"

Friends. With Fitz Vacker. If the Dex from a few years ago heard that, he would've laughed.

"I'll try," he mumbled. "I don't promise anything more. If nothing else, your heart is in my hands."

Fitz's weak smile turned bright, blinding him. Dex turned away, not knowing how to react to that. He wasn't sure how to react to the twitch of Fitz's arms either, as if he wanted to ask for a hug.

"Rest well, Wonderboy," he whispered, as he rushed out of the room.

Thump. Thump-thump.

Fitz's heart beat steadily in his hands, and Dex thought that his reluctant words would probably end up a reality.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @my-swan-song, @stellarune, @impostertamsong, @subrosasteath

Want to be added/removed from the kotlc taglist? Just let me know!

#the way i wanted more fedex interactions only to realize they like never talked books 1-4 and that so much happened in 2-3 that they couldnt #can you believe i reread books 1-4 ish i havent touched those books in like 5 years #dex dizznee #fitz vacker #fedex #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fanfic #ravi writes a thing #DO feel free to ask me about other heart pairs or dynamics in general. while centered on fedex i have a decent idea of who some hearts #belong to with other characters

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queenofmalkier · 1 year

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Also at this point? I’m mad all over at people who write Min off as being nothing but a Rand tag-along.

Like. Yes, she has superglued herself to his side by the end of book 7 for the most part. BUT - and this is a big one! - she had a viewing that he would die without Moiraine. And Moiraine is dead.

So not only did she have to watch him be broken down and tortured, and is actively witnessing the fallout of that, she doesn’t think he has a chance and is terrified.

Does she have thoughts along the lines of ‘Damn he fine!’ YOU BETCHA! That’s a very normal, human response when you like somebody even if it’s the end of days. She’s also young and this is her first relationship, give a girl a break.

Regardless she’s doing what she can to support him in what she believes is a doomed endeavor. Because she’s seen what fighting him does firsthand - better to help and mitigate the damage than go against him.

Rand’s sent everybody he cares about away that he can. Every single person. He’s not even thinking about Tam anymore because it’s dangerous. Elayne he’s determined never to see again, same with Avi. Even Egwene to some extent. He’d send away Mat and Perrin forever if he could. He’d send the Maidens away if they’d stand for it so he settles for pretending he doesn’t care about them and keeps them around as a favor to them.

He’s isolating in a major way.

But Min isn’t just sitting there like a bump on a damn log.

1. She’s taken over reading after Fel got torn to bits. She’s not realized why exactly it’s important, but she’s the only person who even thought to read the books that got him killed. (Because why would the shadow kill him if he didn’t know something?)

2. She might have changed her appearance a little, but it’s on her terms. She’s still in her breeches and boots, they’re just more feminine, which very well could be her own preference - Min wasn’t exactly wealthy, and dressing as she did wasn’t safe unless she went the masculine route before. Now she has freedom to explore.

3. She befriended the Wise Ones and the Aiel, finally finding a group of people that doesn’t question her abilities or try and use them for their own gain. They just accept her.

4. She has spent enough time with Rand to know what he needs and, like any good partner, is trying to support him.

5. She’s honed her abilities with her daggers and remains armed at all times. Anybody around Rand can’t be defenseless. When they’re with Caraline & Co. she’s ready to protect him too. (When they try and blame Rand by focus on the negative things that are happening, she’s quick to cite ‘Balance’ and the positives.)

6. Staying by Rand’s side means she can advise him on possible viewings and what they mean - something she feels comfortable enough doing because he never asks for more than she tells him.

I guess I just don’t get why people dislike her so much. It’s probably a shipping thing, but she’s far from useless and reducing her to girl-on-Rand’s-arm has to be a willful refusal to look at her actual actions and instead focusing on her thoughts despite WOT being filled with unreliable narrators. We’re supposed to look beyond what she thinks to see what she does.

#Wheel of Time #wheel of time book spoilers #min farshaw

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thegettingbyp2 · 2 years

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Aaron Tveit x Reader playing truth or dare after rehearsals or something one night. smut welcome - up to you.

Truth or Dare

You were sitting in a circle with Aaron, Ricky, Robyn and Tam. You had all had a long day in rehearsals and had all gone back to Aaron’s for a couple of drinks to wind down. It wasn’t a secret to the rest of the cast that you and Aaron had a crush on each other so when Ricky suggested that you all play truth or dare, you didn’t think anything of it and thought it sounded fun. As the game progressed, the tipsier you all got, the looser all of your lips got which made the game more fun. You and Aaron were lightly leaning against each other, his hand resting on the floor behind you so his arm was supporting you against him and you had sat with your back slightly against his side so your head could fit comfortably against his shoulder. Aaron’s head was resting gently on top of your head so you could feel his breath tickling your hair.

‘(Y/N), truth or dare?’ Ricky asked, looking over at the two of you with a smirk on his face.

‘Truth.’ You saw Ricky’s shoulders deflate slowly as he had hoped you would choose a dare, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

‘What part of the show do you think Aaron is the hottest?’ Robyn piped in.

‘Roxanne.’ You replied instantly without thinking and you felt Aaron chuckle against your hair.

‘Why?’ Robyn asked, trying not to laugh at how quickly you answered.

‘The black coat with the purple shirt, his hair and the growl in his voice when he sings, my God! That’s the one part of the show I make sure I always watch from the wings.’

‘Always, huh?’ Aaron asked, a smirk evident in his voice and you sat up slightly and turned to face him, nodding as a blush spread across your cheeks. ‘Good to know,’ he said lightly before you both turned back to your circle of friends.

A few more rounds went by, the dares getting more risqué as the night went on and you all drank more. You and Aaron had changed positions so you were now laying on your back with your head resting on Aaron’s lap and Aaron’s hand was resting on the top of your head, his thumb tracing circles in your hair. You were yet to choose dare much to Ricky’s disappointment so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

‘(Y/N), you’re out of truths. You have to choose a dare this time,’ Ricky told you from across the circle. You frowned slightly, knowing that it didn’t sound right but you had drank enough that you didn’t bother to question it.

‘Fine, dare.’

‘I dare you to kiss Aaron. Not a quick peck. A proper kiss.’

You looked up at Aaron who was looking down at you, his thumb still moving on top of your head before he shrugged, ‘I’m game if you are.’

You leant up on your elbows slightly and Aaron tilted his head down until both of your lips had connected in a gentle kiss. His lips were soft but firm against yours and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips as his tongue swept along your bottom lip, signalling for you to open your mouth. As soon as your lips parted, Aaron’s hand came to rest on the back of your head so he could deepen the kiss. Everything else in the room had quickly faded away, both of you only focused on each other.

‘And I’d say our job is done,’ Ricky said, grinning at Robyn and Tam as they all gathered their things and left the house. The sound of the door closing broke you and Aaron from your kiss.

‘Why do I have a feeling they did that on purpose?’ You asked, giggling slightly.

‘Because I think that’s exactly what they did,’ Aaron replied before bringing your lips back to his. This time he used his grip on the back of your head to gently lower you down to the ground, quickly climbing over you as his hands began to run up and down your body, dipping underneath the bottom of your t-shirt every now and then. Your fingers gripped the hem of his t-shirt and started tugging it upwards making Aaron chuckle at how impatient you were being.

He pulled away and let one of his hands rest on your cheek, making you look up at him. ‘I’m going to take you on a date,’ he said, sitting up and pulling you up alongside him. ‘When we’re both sober, I’m going to take you on a date and behave like the perfect gentleman before bringing you back here and throwing you onto my bed.’ He whispered against your lips.

‘Why can’t we do the throwing bit now?’ you whined lightly, pressing another gentle but teasing kiss to his lips.

‘Because, like I said, I can be a gentleman. Plus I really want to remember it in the morning and I can’t promise that will happen right now.’

You sighed happily and curled back into his arms, his chin coming to rest on top of your head. You pressed a teasing kiss to his neck, causing a groan to escape from his throat before speaking.

‘Fine. But this date’s going to have to be tomorrow, I don’t know how long I can wait anymore.’

#aaron tveit #aaron tveit x reader #aaron tveit imagine

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silver-ink-iron-words · 2 years

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Day 18 - Forest

From this prompt list by @watercolorfreckles

----

“Okay kid, Rule One. Be careful what you say here. The forest can hear you.”

The protagonist followed the stranger closely along the thin snaking trail. They normally would have suspected paranoia, or delusions. But having spent most of the day lost in these woods, they weren’t so sure anymore.

It was something in the way the underbrush looked different if you glanced back. The way the paths seemed to always pull towards the center. The fact that, if the protagonist stopped and truly listened, they’d almost swear they could hear breathing.

“What am I supposed to not say?”

The stranger – Tam, he’d called himself – broke through a thicket with a small knife. “Just don’t talk about personal things. Vulnerabilities, your loved ones, stuff like that. The forest will try to use that information to cut a deal.” He looked back at the protagonist. “That’s Rule Two, by the way. Don’t make any deals.”

The protagonist went cold. “Why would I do something like that?”

Tam shrugged, moving forward again. “Good harvests, magic cures, a terrible fate for your enemies. People have found plenty of reasons, over the years.”

“You know someone, don’t you?” The protagonist dropped down from a log. “Someone who made a deal.”

Tam didn’t meet the protagonist’s eyes, but he nodded.

“What does the forest ask for in return?”

“Oh lots of things. Sometimes it just needs a bit of your blood, or a couple years off your life.” He grinned when the protagonist paled. “Usually, though, it’ll ask you to stay.”

“What, like, forever?”

“In theory.”

The protagonist cast a wary gaze at the branches overhead. “What does it even get out of something like that?”

“Who knows? Maybe it’s lonely.”

The protagonist ducked around a split trunk. “No offense to your friend, but it seems like a pretty stupid deal to make.”

Tam was silent for a beat. “I can’t say I disagree.”

The path started to incline upwards, as they reached the base of a hill.

“Are there any other rules?”

“Just one.” Tam held out his hand to help the protagonist up a steep rock. “Don’t leave my line of sight.”

----

They continued on like that, well into the evening. The forest was so much larger than the protagonist had ever imagined, and their anxiety rose as the shadows stretched.

Tam was friendly enough, and he answered all the protagonist’s questions. But he also kept his eyes on the trees, as though he expected something to pounce. The protagonist decided eventually that it was best not to distract him.

When they reached the edge of the woods, it took the protagonist a few seconds to believe their eyes.

“Oh my god.” They stared at the field ahead of them, at the little hints of rooftops in the distance. “Oh my god, that’s my town!”

Tam smiled. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

With a nod, the protagonist ran. Footsteps light, breath bubbling, they burst past the treeline. The cool air filled their lungs, the berry-red sunset blinded their eyes. They laughed. They hadn’t died in the forest. They and Tam were going to be –

Where was Tam?

The protagonist spun around, peered back into the brush. “Tam?”

There was no answer.

“Tam?!”

There was only the graveyard silence of the trees.

----

Tam watched, as the kid called again and again. He could see it on their face, when they thought about going back in to search.

He watched as, wide-eyed and near tears, they made the only reasonable decision available – to leave him behind.

“You need to stop doing this,” the forest said.

It didn’t have a voice, exactly. Its words came via the tapping of branches, the wind rustling through leaves. Yet, Tam could understand it perfectly.

“The kid posed an interesting question,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Why do you want us to stay so badly?”

He watched the kid’s silhouette disappear over the horizon. Towards the town, which seemed to grow a little bigger every year.

He wondered, sometimes, if his family still lived there.

“Why, it’s because I love you.” Ivy peeled off the trees, and reached to caress him. “But don’t worry. No matter how many I collect, you will always be my favorite.”

“Oh believe me,” he said, as the twigs and leaves twined around him. “I know.”

#fantasy writing #dark forest #whumpblr #hero x villain #whump drabble #captivity #fantasy #villain x hero #creative writing #writing snippet #snippet #halloween #halloween writing #whump #dark fairytale #not a prompt

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northern-polaris · 1 year

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Hiraeth (1/?)

Hi so someone bullied me into posting this so now we’re here. This is just pure self-indulgence and it’s not going to make sense. Enjoy? No beta we die like Andras doesn’t.

Summary: I couldn’t think of a good summary so this is basically modern Tamlin with canon universe Lucien. Don’t worry about it. But all that stuff is going to happen later and this chapter is going to be sad tam hours.

Honestly, it was Andras’ fault. His friend just had to call him to bombard him with worries, inquiries, and other related issues. As if he didn’t already have enough of those already. Just more items to add to the seemingly never-ending list of things for Tamlin to torture himself with in the dead of night.

The conversation made him vulnerable; made him uncover old, festering wounds that marred his mind, sending him back to that ‘bad place’ that Alis would warn him about. stalking through the desolate halls, he shouted curses and damnations against the backdrop of deafening silence. Anything that would have drowned out the roaring in his head.

Noon gave way to afternoon, afternoon to late evening, and finally late evening to early morning when Tamlin finally regained some sense of clarity.

Upon his returned consciousness, he marched out to the back patio that overlooked the forest he often dreamed of disappearing into. He dug around in his pockets, searching for something, hoping almost desperately that he would find it. The discovery of his phone on his person revealed that he had missed several messages, Tamlin was both too high-strung and exhausted to respond to them yet, and that wasn’t even what he was looking for anyways.

After checking every pocket and rummaging around the patio for longer than he cared to admit, he finally found what he needed.

Cigarettes. Thank fuck.

His celebration was short-lived once he realized that he didn’t have anything to light them with. A few more curses and crashes later, he scrounged up some matches. That would have to do in the meantime until he could find his lighter.

With great haste, he lit the ‘death stick’(nickname courtesy of Andras), placed it in between his lips, and took a deep inhale. The burning in his lungs was a welcome and familiar sensation, his muscles already relaxing alongside his racing heart.

He was on his third cigarette when Tamlin finally bothered to check his phone messages. One was from Andras; a simple question about how he was feeling. He ground his teeth and felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. He didn’t need all this monitoring. He didn’t need to be coddled or handled like something delicate or breakable.

He was fine.

After taking another much needed drag from his cigarette, he tried to calm himself and his newfound ragged breathing. Breathe. In, hold, out, repeat. He didn’t know how Andras tolerated him.

After what felt like hours but revealed to be only a few minutes as shown on his clock, Tamlin tightened the reins on his emotions and tapped out a quick reply:

[Everything is fine.]

Because it was.

The other messages were both from Alis, his back straightening at the sight of them. He could practically hear her stern but warm voice chastising him for slouching as she typically did. She always scolded him for his ‘less than desirable’ habits, and he respected that the stubborn woman never let off with it. God forbid if he ever told her that though.

[Hello Tamlin, I hope that you are having a good day.]

He readjusted the death stick in his mouth and kept reading.

[I wanted to let you know that I shall be returning from vacation with my nephews next week, Monday. Andras told me about what happened earlier, which you didn’t mention in your last update.]

He vowed to kill that fucking snitch one of these days.

[And now I expect you to give me daily updates until my return. Furthermore, I want to remind you to eat dinner. It’s good for you.]

[Good night, try to sleep well.]

The messages from Alis and Andras were sent around two P.M. Tamlin checked the time to find that it was nearly one A.M.

He sighed and slouched again in the chair he didn’t remember sitting down in. Monitoring and Coddling on both fronts. Great. Just. Fucking. Great.

He stubbed out his cigarette and tossed it precariously in the direction of the trash, letting his head lean back until he was staring at the ceiling, looking for something that he didn’t understand. He squinted when he thought he saw something move, but it was most likely something his brain conjured up. Nonetheless, he kept staring.

It reminded him of the story where a woman stared at her yellow wallpaper until she went mad. He made himself chuckle at the mental image of him creeping around like she did, biting bed posts and ripping apart accursed paper confinements.

It sure felt tempting.

After an indefinite amount of time just waiting for the ceiling to move, Tamlin decided to at least try to make something that he could sink his teeth into. For Alis’ sake.

He could make a steak, pretend that it was Andras, and promptly rip it to shreds. That was enough motivation to make him slip out of his chair on shaky legs and walk back inside.

He stumbled into his kitchen and swung the freezer door open, nearly ripping it off the hinges. Letting out a noise that could have been a growl, he regarded the packaging of beef that he had forgotten to separate earlier. All of the cuts were frozen together.

With already frayed nerves and a complete lack of patience, he rationalized that he could pry one off the heap with a simple knife. It went through like butter for about halfway, and then the knife got stuck.

Tamlin grunted in frustration, applied more force, and it still had the gall to not move. He decided then to throw all caution to the wind and placed his other hand at the other end of the pile for more leverage and stabbed through it as hard as he could.

“Fuck!”

Well, that was certainly more blood than Tamlin was comfortable with.

#pro tamlin #tamlin #tamcien #lucien vanserra #I don't have an explanation #I just need to put the babygirl through the blender #It's how I show my affection #tw smoking #tw mental illness #tammy is not fine don't let him tell you otherwise #i don't know what else to tag just read at your own digression

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imdonnalynn · 9 months

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You Broke Me, But In A Good Way (1/1) REPOST

Summary: River realizes why she and Mal didn't shoot one another that day on Beaumont. Sequel to You Hesitated, I Didn't

Pairing: Malcolm Reynolds/River Tam

Rating: PG

Word Count: 367

Warnings:

A/N: Another repost from over a decade ago. This was a sequel to a previous story (in summary).

Disclaimer: The characters of Firefly (series) / Serenity (film) do not belong to me. So DO NOT sue me.

-----------

“I know why now…”

Mal glanced at River from across the table. They were the only two souls on Serenity. The rest of the crew were out on errands and wouldn’t be back till morning most likely. The planet was friendly enough and they weren’t expecting any trouble so…everything was shiny. “You know what?” it was something in her voice that had him curious. It was that tone where you finally got the joke that was told ages ago and you feel like a complete dote.

“Why I hesitated,” she remembered. “In the maidenhead back on Beaumont.” She felt him stiffen inside her. Every muscle went taunt and he slowly stopped what he was doing and leaned back against the chair and gazed at her.

Two long years passed since that dreadful day and to be honest he didn’t want to rehash it. He didn’t want to remember their lingering question that neither could answer at the time. But it seemed River wanted to remember and to get past it. And if there was one thing Malcolm Reynolds realized was when River Tam put her mind to something she was going to do it or die trying.

“You think about it sometimes,” she revealed. “Far away in the back of your mind you try to figure out what it was that kept me from taking you down just like everyone else. What made you different? Why did we both hesitate? Why at all?”

He stared at her unable to find his voice. What she spoke was true. Every once in a while, he would dream about the showdown and question himself.

“I was hoping you would shoot me first,” she admitted.

He slowly gaped at her and shook his head.

“You broke me…” she looked directly into his eyes. “…but in a good way. You broke through conditioning that was supposed to be unbreakable.”

He shook his head, “River…”

“…I just wanted you to know,” she finished in that tone that meant lets leave it at that and move on. So he didn’t push the issue and he went back to his previous task. Leaving her to stare at the console and wonder…how did he do it though………

THE END

Read sequel You Hesitated, I Didn't

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blackacre13 · 1 year

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I hope you like this: Lou adopts Danny's or one of her workers' baby and she shows up with him to visit Debbie in prison. Debbie is shocked and has all her walls up but over the years the 3 bond during the visits. When she's out, the fight over Claude is a bit more tense. Lou's afraid Debbie will get bored and go away while Debbie thinks she's not good enough for them. Until one day Deb and the boy surprise Lou with a proposal and then they surprise Debbie with him agreeing to be adopted by Deb

(Slight variation of this that I hope you still enjoy🙈 needed to take some artistic license)

“Lou,” Tammy breathed, bursting through the door of the loft. “I came as soon as I saw your text. Are you okay? Please tell me you didn’t do anything crazy. I haven’t heard from you since the news about Danny and well—“

“Well, I can’t say it’s not crazy,” Lou grinned, looking somewhat nervous but excited. “But it’s not scotch related. Well, he was the result of a night of booze,” the blonde snorted.

“You didn’t,” Tammy whisper-hissed, closing the door behind her. “You slept with someone? Drunk? You just said—“

“I did not sleep with someone,” Lou rolled her eyes. “And I didn’t lie. I wasn’t drinking. And please. Like I’d ever stoop as low as to sleep with a man. I thought you knew me. No, I—I picked someone up today,” she smiled, walking towards the living room where a crib came into view.

“Lou…” Tammy spoke slowly. “Is that…”

“This is Charlie,” Lou smiled, waving the little boy’s tiny hand at Tammy. “Danny’s son. Well, I guess he’s my son now.”

“I think I need to sit down.”

“It’s a lot, I know,” Lou nodded, cradling the boy against her chest as he coped, a finger tugging at her fringe. “But it’s kind of perfect, Tam. I mean, not perfect. Losing Danny was…I don’t have the words for it. I don’t think any of us ever will. But well, I saw Tess last week. And she’s been in a lot of pain. And she knows I’ve been in a lot of pain. I guess I’m the only other person she knows who’s sort of also lost an Ocean.”

“Your Ocean is coming back,” Tammy reminded her, still not able to look away from the baby, or how natural Charlie looked in Lou’s arms as she rocked him side to side.

“From jail, yeah,” Lou agreed. “But we don’t know she’s coming back to me. As much as I want that and crave that, and still love her as much as I did I—“

“I won’t push,” Tammy whispered, smiling sadly. “I know. It’s not a decision that falls solely on you. And I know there’s a lot left unsaid. And some unfinished—“

“Skulls to crush?” Lou provided, still bouncing Charlie. “Actually, just the one will do. I can’t wait to get ahold of Becker and just—“

“Maybe not so much with the violence while you’re holding a baby, right?” Tammy winced. “I mean now that you’re a—wait. What are you? Are you babysitting? Are you taking on Deb’s responsibilities as aunt? Shit. You said you did something crazy. Fuck. Lou. You said he’s your son? Oh my god. When the hell did you and Danny—”

Lou shot a death glare at the other woman above the boys head before she physically shuddered, closing her eyes as she tried to shake the unasked question away from existence.

“Absolutely not. God, Tam. That’s like incest or something. How could you even—just, no. Let me finish. Like I was saying, I saw Tess. And she’s been falling apart since we lost Danny. And raising Charlie, it was just too hard. Too much like seeing a little Danny look back at her. And a whole lot of hurt and angst I won’t get into. But I’m sure you know as best as we can. And well, for the reasons raising Charlie was making her ache, she thought that maybe it would do the opposite for me. Bring me out of a slump. Give me someone to take care of now that I’m taking care of myself again. So I can be a better person for myself, you know. And you. And—and Deb. And I think she felt terrible for even suggesting this and please, Tam, don’t judge Tess. She just wants what’s best for him and—“

“God,” Tammy breathed. “No, I could never. I can’t imagine what she’s gone through and of course. Of course we all just want what’s best for our kids.”

“She still wants to be in his life, but she just doesn’t feel like she can be the parent he needs. So, Tess sort of, made me Charlie’s legal guardian and if things go well? I want to adopt him. And Deb to one day. You know. If she wants.”

“Fuck. How is Debbie going to take all this?”

“I don’t know,” Lou sighed. “But we just got cleared.”

“Cleared?”

“Charlie,” Lou smiled softly, brushing a curl away from his face. “We’re clear to visit Deb. After all, she hasn’t ever had the chance to meet her nephew. I think it could help her with Danny. It could maybe—“

“How do you know she’ll want to see you this time?” Tammy asked quietly. “I know how many times you’ve tried and she’s—“

“She’s ashamed,” Lou shrugged. “And stubborn. And I know she blames herself for all of it. Claude. And prison. And Danny. And us. But I just—Fuck, I’d give anything to see her. And I want her to meet Charlie. And I just—I just want to see her face. Show her there’s hope. There’s something waiting for her on the outside when she gets through all this. There’s—there’s us. And we know her already. Love her already.” Lou smiled, turning Charlie around in her arms as he gurgled up at Tammy. “We’re just waiting for her to come home.”

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dreaming-of-the-end · 1 year

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2: a lesson in forgetting, and being forgotten

A/N: Second chapter of “the art of running away (the disaster of returning)“ Fitz pov time!! Comments and reblogs are better than Fitz crying!

Warnings: swearing

Links: [ao3] [wattpad] [masterpost] [prev chapter] [next chapter]

Tags: @an-ungraceful-swan @seulgibabes @gay-otlc @fruity-fintan-fortythree @synonymroll648 @bookwyrminspiration @skylilac @song-tam @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @abubble125 @rainy-nights-and-fairy-lights @kamikothe1and0lny @arsonistblue @daphneisntreal @lemon-girl-in-devil-town @istanrandomfandoms

Keefe ran away.

To a place he can not follow.

Fitz isn't exactly sure what they expect his reaction to be. Sophie stares at him like she's waiting for a bomb to explode. Biana worries her lip with her teeth, a habit she'd broken years ago, and Dex twists his fingers into knots until the knuckles turn white.

"He's gone?" Tam leaves out the word they are all thinking. Fitz hates him for it: he wants to tell him to say it. Remind everyone that this happens all too often. He is rewarded with a dull glance up, eyes widening in mock surprise. "Typical."

This is the part where he becomes a tea kettle and starts screaming.

But Fitz just says, "Let him stay there." His insides twist tighter than Dex's hands. He doesn't think he remembers how to breathe.

"I think he doesn't want to be found this time," Sophie admits. "Last time, we only knew where he was because I hitched a ride. This time, there's no way to know."

"Good. Let him stay there," Fitz repeats. His throat chokes on itself, but Biana's giving him the look that means his face has gone into a mask again, cold and stony, poster child of sculpted stone. "The Forbidden Cities? God, I've told him about being there enough. Alvar's told him enough. He knows plenty. He'll be fine without us."

Without me.

But they've been without each other for a long time, haven't they? Fitz thinks they've been playing hide and seek, lost and found, ever since Keefe left the first time and took a chunk of his heart with him. They've never had the conversation about its safe return, and so he continues with a hole in his heart and the missing piece too close and too far away.

"Fitz—"

"I agree," Wylie says, hands folded behind his back, eyes stormy. "He can always light leap away at any danger." He's perhaps the one who knows Keefe least, and maybe this is why Fitz feels a sudden surge of anger. Who is Wylie to decide Keefe's not worth saving? Agreement feels laced with poison to him, every word an insult and his saving grace.

Maybe he didn't mean it.

But there are nods now. So Fitz nods, forces a smile on his ice-cold face. "He doesn't need us." He's trying so hard not to let his bitterness leak through.

Sophie, he knows, isn't fooled. Not Biana, either. Tam meets his eyes and shakes his head like he knows the push and pull of the maelstrom whisking his lungs around his body, the nausea rising in his throat. But no one says anything. They can't find anything that doesn't call him a liar.

He ran away from you.

"How do you know where he is?" Stina is the one to ask the question, fingers twisting in the loose curls past her shoulders.

Sophie hesitates. "He... he left me a letter."

Another sting, another fire in his head.

He is a liar. Perhaps to himself, because he knows that this time, the cowardice had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the danger of newness and the violence of terror. All of Keefe's worst fears.

I know you, Fitz will say when he sees him again. So why does it feel like you've forgotten everything I ever was?

...

Fitz digs through his bedsheets, under his pillow, under the mattress, inside his pillowcase, fingers flying desperately across gold-trimmed navy blue.

His desk sits in disarray, every drawer spilled out across the carpet he's checked under, every pocket of every item of clothing turned inside out to check for anything, any acknowledgment of his existence. Of his importance.

His bathroom is spotlessly clean, as always. There is no space to hide an envelope. No place to hide a letter.

The fire builds with every moment. Nothing, nothing— Fitz rips the sheets from his bed in vain, the mattress empty—nothing.

He left him with nothing.

Fitz lets himself erupt, punching the wall hard enough to make him leap back, cradling his fist. He needs something broken that isn't him. He needs to be fixed. He needs to be fixed. Keefe needs to be fixed. Everything is broken.

His pillow explodes behind him with a pop, sending brightly colored feathers fluttering all through the air, and Fitz whirls to face it.

He hadn't realized he was outward channeling. His hands shake a little, and he's not sure whether it's from the effort or from all the feelings forced down his throat. He swallows hard.

Fitz sits carefully on his bare mattress. Keefe used to sprawl out on it like he owned it, fingers barely brushing the headboard as he flung them back past his head and mussed his hair a little more—but that doesn't matter anymore. The bed is empty.

He doesn't know why he thought Keefe would care enough to leave him a letter. He would have taken a note like the ones he remembers reading about in human books during younger library visits: Gone fishing. Be back in a few hours, maybe a century. When the world has moved on without me. Moved on from me.

What a fucking coward.

#summer's writing #keefitz #keefe sencen #fitz vacker #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fanfic #kotlc fic #kotlc writing #angst #angst without a happy ending #alira(taor)#a lesson in running away (the art of returning)

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you-have-been-frizzled · 1 year

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Tam should have released Gisela not Rayni

I’m genuinely frustrated with the fact that Glimmer/Rayni was the one to release Gisela

i think it should have been Tam

because it would have shown how manipulative she is. that no matter how stubborn or how hard you try to keep her out Gisela can get into your head and get you do do what she wants. it would show how dangerous she is and what kind of person they where really up against

i wanted Tam to go to go too confront Gisela to tell her that she was going to be locked in Exile and she wasn’t gonna hurt anyone ever again

but she slowly gets into she knows he could care less about his own safety she tells him that it would better for Rayni and for him if he released her because she would make her life as difficult as possible if he didn’t. telling him that she will tell the council everything that Rayni had done. after all she gave Rayni she betrayed her, that she would make sure that Rayni got her mind broken because traitors deserved to be punished.

but if he did release her, she wouldn’t have the need to tell the council anything and she’d even give a little information in exchange as a thank you.

he ends up questioning Rayni’s safety Linh’s safety, what if they got hurt? they hurt them enough as by Gisela if she was caught she was gonna hurt them more, maybe it was better to let her go.he gets stuck in a loop and question’s everything and if what he was doing is right. she gets in his head enough to get him to release her.

after she escapes Tam light leaps away back to Sorlef, and realizes exactly what he had just done and how he had been manipulated, that he just proved the people calling him a traitor right, and he hides away in his room out of fear and guilt

#i’ve had this saved so i could post it when more people read the book #i’m still mad about it #there was so much potential #it would have been so much better if he released her instead #stellarlune spoilers #tam song #rayni aria #kotlc rayni #kotlc tam #kotlc gisela #kotlc stellarlune

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valenteal · 4 months

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Continuing my bsd x koltc brainstorming.

Tam and Ryuu have a lot of the same base personality traits and similar world views, and it’s pretty easy to imagine them as the same person up until Ryuu joins the mafia. His motivations from bsd canon disappear because… elf. So why is he like this?

Well, he still went to Exillium, they just didn’t keep going. I mean, the only reason to stay would be fighting for a chance to return to the Lost Cities. I’m thinking Tam and Linh don’t find the Wild Wood colony, loose all connection with the Lost Cities and all the other species who are part of the treaties, and become even more independent and jaded. Without any kind of stable environment to return to they don’t have the time or energy to keep going to Exillium, instead devoting their energy to survival. But it took time for them to realize they didn’t want to go back, so they spent months at Exillium, internalizing their ideologies. That was only reinforced when they were living on the streets.

The way to survive at Exillium is to prove yourself worthy to your coach so your invited back for the next day. Some part of Tam internalized that feeling, that need to prove his worth to the person in charge of him, but because of his defiant nature he also loathed that feeling and his coach. When he joins the Port Mafia Dazai became his coach, training him in how to use his ability and using similar language as the Exillium coaches did. This alone isn’t enough to explain his behavior until you remember elven guilt. Ryuunosuke has joined a criminal organization and become a violent murderer, which would shatter his sanity. But his reaction isn’t to shut down, but to become obsessed with one thing to focus on leaving sanity and reason behind. Akutagawa’s head is already show as fractured glass in bsd, too. So, Tam gets traumatized by his parents and learns to despise authority, then he gets traumatized by Exillium and develops a Pavlovian response to certain language, then his sanity shatters after he becomes a murderer. Now he’s Akutagawa, obsessed with proving his worth, angry at the world, and refusing to ever actually do as he’s told despite craving approval.

Now, the question is, why isn’t he still as obsessed with protecting his sister? We know he’s an over protective brother who would do anything for Gin from BEAST, but it isn’t as obvious in bsd. Why? Obviously because Gin can handle herself just fine. She ain’t no damsel in distress and she makes damn sure her brother knows it. He still loves and cares for her but he doesn’t hover as much. She really grew into her own in the mafia. So Ryuu actually ends up relying on her for emotional support than she does him, she has control over her ability while he’s struggling, it’s a role reversal.

But why isn’t Gin’s sanity shattered? She’s an assassin! She kills a lot. The answer is— I have no clue! If anyone has an idea pls share. God why does Gin have to be so sane and normal!?

Anyway that’s all for now, if anyone actually reads this let me know, I’m feeling very lonely as the only person who looked at Akutagawa and saw Tam 😭

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #tam song #bsd akutagawa #gin akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd x kotlc #seriously does no one see this?!#i cant look at akutagawa w/o thinking of tam ok #akutagawa ryuunosuke is tam song #akutagawa gin is linh song #au idea #crossover #crossover idea #brainstorming

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isfjmel-phleg · 1 year

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Selections from the Correspondence of the Lockridge Family, X-XI/XVII

Tamett to Lovisa.

14 March 1908

Dear Lovisa,

what on earth were you thinking to write His Royal Highness a letter like that? It came today and he read it at the breakfast table in front of all of us.[55] I know you want to help Emenor, and that’s very good of you. But you can’t just write to HRH like that. You haven’t been introduced.[56] He didn’t say much, but he gave me some strange looks, so I don’t know what he’s going to do. You might get a letter from a palace secretary telling you to address questions to somebody else.[57] They might scold me. I will try to put in a good word for you. But you should start thinking up other ways to get Em’s violin.

Are you still playing landhockey?[58] Had any matches lately? How did you do?

Your brother

Tamett

Emenor to Tamett.

14 March 1908

Dear Tam,

I didn’t put Lovisa up to writing that letter. None of us did. She came up with the idea all by herself. I guess she’s been really sick about all this, perhaps more than Cille, who’s just going about looking solemn. Anyhow, she wanted to do something about it and had been snooping in my letters and read what you said about wanting someone to take the violin off your hands. And of course it was ridiculous of her, but she does have more nerve than the rest of us put together to write to someone like His Royal Highness. (Actually, I’ve wanted to, lots of times, after you tell me what he puts you through, but Mother and Father have torn up every single attempt before I can send it. At some point he needs someone to say those things to him, but it can wait until I meet him in person.)

But if you think it would help, I can write to HRH and explain that it was a mistake and we really aren’t begging and please don’t take it out on my brother because he didn’t put Lovisa up to it. How cross is he? He hasn’t told his father, I hope? And there’s no chance he’ll dismiss you for having a presumptuous family? That’s a silly reason to dismiss anyone, but then he’s silly, and you can tell him that from me if he does sack you.

I think I might have to risk pulling the worldly goods out of their mothballs[59] and just bite the bullet and tell Father and Mother. Perhaps between the lot of us we can scrounge enough.

Your sister

Emenor

[55] at the breakfast table in front of all of us: This presumably included all four of the royal children and Tamett. Odren was not known to breakfast with his children.

[56] But you can’t just write to HRH like that. You haven’t been introduced: While technically there was no rule in Lienne against writing to the Crown Prince without introduction, the royal family in general was viewed as unapproachable to most of their subjects. Letters to the royal family were subject to scrutiny by a committee of the palace security before they were permitted to be given to their intended recipients, to ensure that they contained no death threats, poison, or other distressing content.

[57] a letter from a palace secretary telling you to address questions to somebody else: Replies to many letters to Josiah were sent by a secretary and would contain such remarks as “His Royal Highness thanks you for your letter and appreciates your kind sentiments.”

[58] Are you still playing landhockey?: Lovisa belonged to a landhockey (field hockey) team composed of girls from her neighborhood but had only been able to join after long haggling with her parents, who made a point of pretending that this activity did not exist.

[59] pulling the worldly goods out of their mothballs: Emenor kept her conservatory fund in a bank account.

#The Blackberry Bushes #The Blackberry Bushes short stories #Selections from the Correspondence of the Lockridge Family #my writing #Tamett Lockridge #Lovisa Lockridge #Emenor Lockridge #Josiah Callon #Cille Lockridge #Elina Lockridge #Edvin Lockridge

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1nksta1neddesk · 8 months

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A Court of Readers and Dreamers

Chapter 11: Effervescent

I woke from soft dreams of starry nights and brisk winds to a silent house, servants still resting from long nights of partying. My legs and arms ached from the night previous, and as I pulled myself into the bathroom I saw the deep purple bruises in the obvious shapes of pressing fingers along my arms. I groaned as I drew a bath that I used to scrub the sweat from the night before away. I was slow as I lounged in the bath, I had made it to a major landmark in the story and had avoided the worst parts of the night. Self satisfied content made me lazy as I only left the water when it had gone cold and my fingers were pruned.

Slow movements guided me to the armoire and maybe it was that content that allowed my hands to drift to a soft, sweet, sundress. Maybe it was also the fact that I was too lazy to deal with the clasps and ties that all faerie clothing seemed to over complicate as I slipped it over top of me. Thin straps of white that flowed down to the powder blue dress. White lace hemmed it, and the new tan my skin held complimented it well. My eyes still stared at the dark bruises on my arms and I grabbed a sheer white shawl where it hung in the closet, just enough to cover but not draw attention.

While I did not have the agile fingers of Alis I was still able to do a simple plait down the center of my back. I looked into the mirror and felt simple, light. It was the closest I had gotten to being in my own skin since I had first come here, and I wanted to relish in it as I slipped on complimenting white slippers that were crammed in the back corner of the armoire.

I finally left my room, padded feet slowly sliding down the halls as I followed the smell of food towards the dining room, it having already become late enough in the day that lunch was served. I heard clipped conversation as I drew closer to the cracked doors and I slowed my pace even more as I crept closer, eavesdropping.

“-have been out, much less with him.” Lucien was saying and I heard the growl from deeper within the room, Tamlin. “I know, but she is becoming more suspicious. That’s why her lackies keep showing up.”

“We will not give them more reason to suspect, so if your worrying does us no good. I cannot change the fact that he saw her, that he probably told her, but we can make sure the patrols are more frequent.” Tamlin’s words were short and still held a growl like he had not fully repressed the beast beneath his skin.

“The men are already over worked with patrols, you cannot expect them to do more without some part suffering.” Lucien was pleading as I leaned farther in, trying to hear it easier as I got closer, careful of each inching slide I took against the tiles.

“What do you want me to do Lucien? I can’t fix this, or rush the girl. Feyre doesn’t need to be worried about this as well when she trains as though a war is coming already.” I stopped my breathing, I hadn’t realized word of my training had truly reached Tamlin, that he knew I was preparing for something.

“War will be coming, Tam. Especially if you get caught by her.” Tensions were building and if I didn’t step in soon I had a feeling something, or someone, would end up very, very broken. I shuffled back a couple feet, focusing on keeping my movements silent in a dress that I didn’t hear the next sentence of the conversation. I lifted my foot and set a casual pace as I made way for the center of the doors, pushing my way in.

Their conversation fell silent the moment I had taken that first step, and now both of their gazes were zeroed in on me as I took my seat. A plate and cutlery was already laid out for me as I started adding food to my plate. I smiled prettily as I looked up at the two of them.

“Did I interrupt something?” Innocent, I was so innocent as I asked, no hint of the words filed away to a corner of my mind to be sewn into my plans. Neither of them answered my question as Lucien looked pointedly at Tamlin, then at my dress. Tamlin seemed to get the hint as he slightly shook from his stupor, his gaze locking with Lucien’s for a moment.

“You look… pretty today.” It was as close to a compliment the socially inept high lord was going to get so I smiled brighter at him, all warm sunshine and murmured a thank you before I started to slowly eat some gnocchi. The rest of the lunch went quietly, smoothly before we all departed into our separate directions, normal.

I found my way into a nook of the library I had become fond of, warm sunlight coming through a small window just perfectly to warm a pillow I propped my slippered feet on. Some staff must have figured out I liked this bench as there had been a blanket there for the past week, plush and buttery smooth that absorbed the warmth perfectly as I drapped it over my lap. I had a small book today, images of flora and fauna of the Winter Court.

I had an hour by myself before blond hair was next to me. Tamlin had just walked into my periphery and I moved my stretched legs, tucking them up and under me. He took the invitation to sit as I closed the book and hummed a greeting at him. I had expected him to be angry at me for sneaking out yesterday, but his eyes were focused somewhere else, on my arms.

I had shrugged off the shaul once I came into the library, and now those purple circles were on display where my forearms were crossed over the cover of my book. I quickly tucked my arms behind the book, but the damage was done.

His hands were grabbing at my wrist, pulling them from where I had hidden them as a low snarl built in his throat. “Who d-” I didn’t let him finish.

“Some picts, they were dealt with.” I pulled my hands from his loosened grip and let them fall into my lap, “It’s my punishment for sneaking out last night. I’m sorry for whatever that is worth.” I tried not to think about the growling and scrapping that had woken me last night, not as burning emerald eyes found mine when I looked up.

“I was wild last night , the magic in control, not me. It tried to find you, but found someone else when it couldn’t.”A shuddering breath from him, “You made me crazy Freyre, but I do not think you need anymore punishment.” I pulled my legs back farther, skin pricking with apprehension at the admission from Tamlin. “I was coming here to see if you were interested in a music lesson but if my presence isn’t wanted I will leave.”

Now it was my turn to grab his wrist as he went to stand. “I would love a lesson, I think my mind is about to melt from my ears if I look at any more words.” A lie, I had just gotten to an interesting section of the herbaceous plants and their medicinal uses. But Tamlin seemed deflated as he went to move and I couldn’t leave the tension as it was.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in front of a grand piano, songs worming their way into my head as the keys fell beneath my fingers. If I started humming words to songs that did not exist in this world Tamlin did not make any comment about it. Dinner was fun, Lucien there and tension dissipated enough that we all cracked jokes at each other, me and Lucien getting into a small food fight with the roast potatoes and carrots.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

Four days of peace where I fell into the usual routine, ignoring the pointed gaze of Lucien every time he saw my bare arms. Tamlin had been around more, and everyday I had practiced a new instrument. I joked with him that soon we could be a 2-man traveling minstrel pretty soon and he howled so much that a painting had rattled in his study and I had to smack his arm to shush him.

The peace was shattered when I woke one morning, softly rising from soothing dreams of nothing but warm dark rest. I had gone to the garden for my usual training and it was there, piked on the beak of a heron about to take off into flight. Blood soaked the front of the heron, gorey and ruby red, and I was silent as I stared and stared, unable to rip away from it as the empty eyes of the dead fae seemed locked with mine. His mouth was in a permanent scream as the tip of the beak protruded from his mouth.

Brown empty eyes swallowed me where I stood, and I shifted my foot back, sliding against the gravel. I was striding back into the house quickly as I saw Lucien and Tamlin rushing down the steps of the garden. They both stalled their steps as I moved between them, Tamlin moved forward toward the fountain the moment I passed between them, obviously on a direct path inside and away from those brown eyes that I could still feel bearing into me. Lucien hesitated for a moment more, a half step in my direction before following after Tamlin.

I hid in the library, half running down the long rows down the book shelves until I found a dark corner I could hole myself into until lunch or dinner. Lucien only came to me in the early night, telling me Tamlin was called to the border for the night and was still alive. I moved to my room when a servant came to light a candle near me once it had gotten to dark to read comfortably.

I was in my room reading for a couple more hours , physically not exhausted but metal facilities faltering as words blurred and shifted on the page. I grew frustrated as I shut the book I had and half tossed it onto my bedside table, throwing myself down onto the mattress with a groan. My eyes were burning as I relished in the dark behind my eyelids for just a moment.

It was late and Summer solstice was in the morning, Rhysand coming back to the manor the day after that and I could not sleep, even as I tried to drain myself by washing more layers of mental shields atop the ones that held near constantly. I groaned again as I lifted myself from the mattress, changing into night clothes and put out all the small flames that lit the room. Cold shadows ushered themselves in, shying from the silver moon light coming from the window.

I laid in bed for an agonizing amount of time where sleep did not come to claim me. I was left with my thoughts as I whispered to those shadows small memories from before, reassuring as I remembered them and kept telling myself it was real, that my family was still real somewhere.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

Summer solstice was there when I awoke, merry music carried on warm winds as ribbon fluttered in the garden, the fountain clean of any ruby blood as bows of fluttering fabric now adorned it. Maypoles in the distance were being erected and fires set up, if the ones from Calanmai were ever even cleaned up.

Alis was there quickly, helping me dress in light tunic and pants despite her pleading for me to wear another dress like she had heard down the grapevine of staff that had come out of their quarters that day. I still heard the ringing shrieks of offense she had greeted me with the next morning when she found out I had finally worn a dress. Still I dressed in pants and an indigo tunic before I found my way into the gardens.

My time under the mountain was drawing ever nearer, and if this was to be one of my last days in the Spring Court I was not going to stall my training. I ate a large breakfast alone after I was exhausted. Still my fingers drummed with excess energy as my legs protested every step I took away from a chair, and I found myself in Tamlin’s study. My fingers roved across the multitude of instruments we had been cycling through during my weeks here.

I picked up the fiddle, and maybe it was the empty loneliness nestled next to the burning excitement that also had me pulling the bow across the strings. An old song that I used to sing with my father on road trips came from my fingertips. Minutes melted to hours as I cycled through old songs foreign to this world but weaved into my soul, comforting memories flowing with them.

Maybe tonight I would play with Tamlin, one last hurrah before I had him sending me away the moment Rhys was gone. My fingers stuttered at the thought and the screech the strings made had me wincing as I pulled the instrument from under my chin, setting it down gently. I couldn’t break the curse now even if I tried, I didn’t love Tamlin. The peace I had been relishing in for weeks was a facade to both of us and I had to die for his court to be free, for him and all of Prythian to be free. I was still staring down at where I placed the fiddle when a timbre voice came from behind me.

“I thought I was just about to catch a personal concert.” Tamlin was in the doorway of the study, having come back from whatever part of the border he had been at. Words caught in my throat as I stuttered over an apology for coming into his office but he waved me off, picking up the fiddle himself.

“Where did you learn those songs? I don’t think we went over them during our lessons.” It was genuine and I felt my ears burn as I came up with a lie.

“I heard them while in the village, when a traveling band would come through. Figured I could try to play them just a bit.” I looked at him and he was readying the bow against the strings, with the first stilted notes I raised my hands in front of me, waving them to try and get him to stop.

He looked sheepish as he looked at me and I sighed, the invitation clear as I started to teach him the songs. It took him an hour or so to get used to the tempos and structuring of them. We were about to move onto a new song, me leaning over a table while I scribbled on paper to explain the piece to him, murmuring the words to the song to remember it properly when Lucien came to fetch us as the sun set low in the sky, the celebrations about to begin.

“I am invited this time, right?” I joked as I straightened myself, preparing to go to my room and freshen up for a long night of partying where I could get rip roaring drunk for the last time.

“Yes, Solstice is for drinking and dancing, all safe for human participation.” Lucien leaned against the door as he spoke, casual as he seemed to already be dressed for the party, fine plum red tunic complimenting the gold jewelry hanging from his wrists and neck. I was only slightly disappointed that no jewelry hung from his ears as I bumped into him.

“Can’t wait to see your two left feet Luci, maybe you can dance with Tam to spare my toes.” I slid past him as I heard a chuckle from him and a laughing groan from Tamlin as he protested the noble sacrifice of his feet. I let joy swell in my chest, smiling so much my cheeks ached as I went to my rooms. One more day, then back to the mortal realms where I would brief my sisters and come back to Prythian, back to the manor to hopefully have Alis guide me.

I contemplated my specific plans as I let Alis braid my hair with pastel wildflowers, and let her put me in a pale gray chiffon dress, just shying into a light purple as I stood in the setting sun. I laced up boots under the dress, Alis allowing for the compromise even as she huffed as I did so. I hugged Alis tightly before I was trotting down the hall and stairs where Tam and Lucien were waiting for me.

A whistle from Lucien had me flushing as they looked up at me, “Cauldron above Feyre,” He nudged Tamlin with an elbow who was still staring up at me as I hit the bottom of the stairs, “She looks positively Fae, doesn’t she Tam?” Another hard jab in Tamlin’s ribs.

“You do look rather lovely, Feyre.” Tamlin still didn’t look away from me as he offered a hand to me.

“Thank you, both of you, but I do believe we have a party to get to that you are wasting away.” I grabbed Tamlin’s hand and grabbed Lucien’s forearm and pulled them towards the doors. I dropped their arms as we made our way across the property, foregoing horses as we came across a plateau where it looked like a small festival was set up. The sky was red and the fires were just starting to be lit as I surveyed the table of food lined against one edge of the area.

The faeries already lined up at the food table stared at me, half of them polite enough to quickly dart their eyes away and the other half turning to someone at their side to whisper into their ears. So many forms were lined there, male and female as the multitude of unearthly skin tones blended together where they all mingled in their finery. Tamlin’s warning growl had the rest of the gazes still ogling me turn away in a moment as I queued up in line. Tamil and Lucien disappeared somewhere into the crowd as I grabbed food from the Tables.

I ate mostly fruit, juicy and sweet from a warm growing season as it always was, as I weaved my way through the crowd. Music was coming from somewhere on the plateau but I let it fall into the background for now as I set down my now empty plate in favor of joining in with a group of smokey skinned females that were dancing around the maypole. I felt parched and made my way to a seperate table where cups of sparkling golden wine sat. I was reaching out for one of the cups when a voice drawled behind me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you” Lucien was next to me, drawing my hand away from the table. I hummed an acknowledgement at him as I reached for a glass again. “You wouldn’t drink wine at dinner with us but you want to drink fae wine on a solstice? Crazy woman.” Still I grasped the cold glass and smelled the bubbling wine.

Sweet summer nights filled with fruit trees blossoming and cold rivers filled my nose and my tongue almost darted out to taste it as Lucien warned again. “I’m warning you, for real this time.” I glared at him over the edge of my drink

“Last time including you drugging me with forest berries.” I had been hallucinating for a whole afternoon when he offered me a hand of deep purple berries that reminded me of blackberries. They were pointedly not as Lucien howled at my ramblings of dragon clouds spewing a rain of ice, all until Tam pushed him into the reflection pool. I tilted my hand back deliberately to drink at the wine but Lucien reached out for it and I had to dance out of his grasp.

“I’m being serious Feyre, Tam would have my head if he saw you drinking that.” I shrugged my shoulders as I took long steps backwards, far from his grasp as I tilted the lip of the glass against my lips and gulped. The wine was gone in a moment as I tilted my head further back, licking for any drop of the liquid that was burning my veins with bright starlight.

I couldn’t breath as I dropped the glass from my mouth and howled in laughter as explosions rictoched across my veins. Lucien’s face had fallen the moment I had tipped the glass against my lips and now he groaned as he followed me. I skipped along the wind as I saw him again, the glamor he held over himself gone for me to stare directly at that beauty. Dripping embers formed his hair and his eyes burned with the same fire. I frowned at him.

“Why do you glamor yourself? You are far too pretty.” I crossed my arms as I looked up at him. He was turned from me,from apologizing to some fae male for some reason .

“Cauldron boil me Feyre,” but he was distracted for the moment and another glass of wine was in my hands and down my gullet. Another round of those star-flamed fireworks erupted across me. Where I had danced on wind with one glass, I became wind with the second. Wind and music as I flowed, gone from any mortal grasps of stress that had withered me for so long. I felt like a flower in bloom, for one long beautiful night I was in bloom. The jeweled colors of the sky was gone, bled into indigo ink that convinced me I could rest as one of the stars, swimming in the endless sky for eternity as I twinkled.

Rhysand’s eyes stared at me as I floated somewhere up, up, and up. I sang with the night, with the stars, and with the notes of music that drew me in like a moth to flame. Dancers joined me along the way, or I joined them, and I was singing loud lyrics to songs I hadn’t heard since prom, silted and odd sounding as they were on classical instruments. I was the atoms that rang with vibrations as an arm caught me, a hand at my arm pulling me from my path.

“Damn it, Feyre,” Lucien said, gripping me. “Do you want me to kill myself trying to keep you from impaling your mortal hide on another rock?”

I giggled at him as I swayed, grasses moving with me. He grabbed me and every nerve he touched felt like sparklers. My blood bubbled to the beat as Lucien swore at me and I mocked him back.

“Feyre, damn it” Lucien was chasing me as I was carried to the instruments. I could fall into it, disappear and leave this world for one of strings and wood, but mortal flesh tied me to the earth and I wanted to melt into that, become a tree that stretched high above heads as summer sun warmed my bark. I was weaving among the band, turning around them and letting the fabric of my dress flutter out like a cloud.

A fiddle was in front of me and my fingers stretched out, wanting to pour into the music that wrapped around me. Tamlin was above the fiddle, looking at me, every shade of green life swirling in his eyes. He was connected to the hands that were at the neck and bow of the fiddle and I grinned a cheshire smile as he played a song I had taught him. Glimmering sweat ran down from his brow, trailing down to his neck. His forearms flexed as he pulled the bow back and I decided to give up on playing the music myself as I gave myself back to the cords of the song.

There was a clamor of apologies from behind me before Lucien was pulling me back, pinning my arms to my side as I fought him. I was a coursing river and he was a rock obstructing my current.

“Sorry Tam, I left her for a moment and by the time I got to her she was drinking the wine and-” I squirming in his hands as I still moved my feet to the music. My hair that had escaped the braid was plastered to my flushed skin, and I sagged a bit at the cold wind that brushed against my skin, cooling the fire that sat just below my skin. My sagging let me turn in Lucien’s arms and peer up at him. His hair was frazzled and sweat dripped down from his hair where it was sticking to his skin.

I whined as he still held me, “Just dance with me Luci, stop being a buzzkill.” He looked over me, to Tamlin with pleading eyes and I heard a soft chuckle.

“I’ll watch her,” I turned back around as Lucien dropped his hands from my side and the smile that split my face reached my ears as I looked at my savior of the night, “Enjoy the party Lucien.” Lucien disappeared as I spun around in place, swaying to music that hadn’t paused as Tamlin still pulled the bow across the strings.

I barely heard the murmured reassurance of Tamlin as I disappeared into the thrum. At some point a tambourine had appeared in my hand and I was apart of the band as I hit it against my hip and shook it through the air. Another blinking moment and the tambourine was gone and Tamlin was in front of me, offering me the fiddle. My fingers did not hesitate as they took the instrument and played from a deep cavern of music I had longed for.

My eyesight was gone as I spun with the music, tilting and swaying to and fro as hands guided me through tickling grasses. Music for the heavens poured from me as I was a pitcher of wicked human feelings, and I opened my eyes that had closed against my knowledge. The moon was above me and I played for her, for eternity between those stars but tied to a rock filled with so much love and life, to look at but to never touch and never participate.

Heat burned at my back as I danced around a fire, a hand pushing me from the rocks I tried to leap upon that bordered the licking ruby and citrine. I was nights and days spent in the water and around campfires. I was laughing children and cheering adults at gatherings. It was summer and joy and I enjoyed the warmth that filled every aching space that had been hollow for years, for my whole existence.

Music dwindled off once the instrument was taken from me and I was no longer at the festival, no fae bodies radiating heat around me as cold dew on grass soaked into my boots. Still I danced in silence, danced to the chorus of the earth as hands guided me to a slope. I opened my eyes and the moon I had been playing to was kissing the edge of the sky, a blue-gray haze warming the sky for day as gasped in the last bits of sweet night air. I was soaked down with sweat, the feeling rivulets running down my back and shins causing my skin to prickle as I collapsed into the grass, but a warm body was catching me.

A panting high lord was in my ear as I savored the warmth against my quickly cooling skin, “Time goes rather fast when you are drunk off your ass on faerie wine, doesn’t it?” I frowned at him as I heard the beginning strings of music again.

“V’ry drunk, wanna dance, they’re playing ‘gain.” I pointed across the way ,accusatory as Tam dragged me away. The will-o’-the-wisps were already ringing out their song and while Tamlin tried to pull me back for a moment, probably to explain and invite me to dance, I was already trouncing through the grass to flow along with the flittering moonbeams that guided my feet.

Tamlin followed after me, grabbing me as I twisted in place. He pulled me into him and I had to crane my head up as he started the soft, easy steps of a waltz. He caught me everytime my feet faltered, righting me with an easy swoop or twirl as I felt the invigoration of the wine slowly trickle from me. We ended up at the top of a hill, away from the wisps, before Tamlin separated from me. I was starting to become drowsy as Tamlin dragged me down to the damp grass he had sat on, tucking me close under an arm as I savored the warmth of his body once again.

Petals fell from my hair as Tamlin’s hand took to fidgeting with the woven flowers that remained in my hair. The smoke of alcohol was clearing from me slowly, leaving me clear headed to watch the first sliver of gold tip over the horizon and gild the world in gold. The clouds lit with pale pinks and purples as I felt my eyelids grow leaden.

I fought that exhaustion pulling at my skin and mind just to see the picturesque scene. I murmured into the fabric of Tamlin’s tunic, seductive sleep coming for me.

“What?” Tamlin tightened his arm around me and I tilted my head up just enough to peer at him through squinting eyes. He was cast in that soft morning light, and if it wasn’t for the gold mask that still held to his face it would have almost looked domestic.

“I’m going to win.” Maybe it was too simple for the mix of emotions that fizzed in me as I closed my eyes again, content blanketing me as I let out a warm breath. I nestled back down and let the gold light of morning wash me away into a gilded blackness.

I did not feel guilty for the night of pure joy and revelry, nor would I ever if it meant I could cling to the memory of the feeling, even if it was all fictional when I returned home.

#fanfic #acotar #acotar rewrite #reader #a court of readers and dreamers #inkywrites #reader insert #rhysand #Tamlin #lucien vanserra #summer solstice

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hi-imgrapes · 1 year

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//Song Family Reunion! Well, At Least Some Of The Family- A Kam Oneshot//

hey guys! happy holidays, heres a kam oneshot below the cut! enjoy!

contents: major kam fluff and angst on the side, tam’s childhood trauma, keefe’s childhood trauma, mai’s domestic abu$e, slight fedex, ro slaying the day, #fistbump

WARNING: MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABU$E, STAY SAFE!

________________________________________________________________

"Take that, you hooligan!"

The bright yellow beach ball knocks me on the head. It doesn't hurt much, but I am in a relatively good mood today- or as good as I can possibly be. I crumple to the ground onto the soft black sand of the Shores of Solace, letting out a sigh of defeat. A boy with bubblegum pink hair snickers from behind me.

I throw the beach ball at Fitz's head. He doesn't bother pretending to be hurt; he just laughs at me and Keefe.

"Ow," he giggles, throwing the beach ball back into Keefe's hands and plopping down on the soft ash-colored sand. He frowns, glancing at the pretentious mansion behind him. "How long do we have to do this?"

"Until Dad of the Year gets officially pissed." Keefe ruffles his sunny blonde hair and copies Fitz's frown. "Weird. He seems to be having more patience than usual today."

"I think you're making progress," I offer, pointing at the highest window where Lord Cassius, my boyfriend's father, rests his pathetic little feet. "See those curtains? He just closed them, but he can't block out the sound. It's only a matter of time before he caves."

"You would be making a point if you didn't say that half an hour ago. Besides, it's- what three hours till dinnertime? I have to get ready for a date," Fitz complains.

"Who takes three hours to get ready?" I mutter to myself, but loud enough for Keefe to hear.

"Fitz, apparently," Keefe snickers. Fitz flushes a dark crimson.

"For the record, your hair looks fine," Ro says from a bright green beach towel several feet away from us. "But if you want me to style it better-"

"I'm good, thanks," Fitz says before Ro could suggest some of her ideas. "But something tells me I'd look better without maggots burrowing into my scalp."

"Not maggots!" she corrects indignantly. "Just bacteria!"

"Very big bacteria," Keefe jokes. Fitz sighs in exasperation.

"Where do you have your date with Dex anyway?" I ask.

"Rimeshire," Fitz boasts before his mind could process my words well enough to correct himself. His face reddens the more Keefe rolls on the sand in laughing tears.

"Alright, you can go put your non-maggots in your hair if you'd like, Fitzy," Keefe teases. "No one's forcing you to be here."

"Considering Dex's questionable taste," Ro says, wrinkling her nose at Fitz, "maybe he would like maggots."

"Oooh, how well do maggots get along with tomples?"

"Alright, screw you guys," Fitz scoffs, holding up his leaping crystal to the sky. "Good luck on being a disappointment." And with those happy words, he glitters away into the afternoon sun.

"Alright, should we keep playing?" I am surprised to see Keefe looking at where Fitz used to stand with a wistful expression. Adopting an expression of concern, I sit up and walk over to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" I ask him.

"It's just..." Keefe blinks, and I am startled to see tears running down his cheeks. "My whole life I've dreamed of having a nice family I could settle into. Like how Fitz settled in with Dex after his parents kicked him out. But I..." His ice-blue eyes meet mine, and I know what he is thinking.

"I know. My parents..." I pause, falling short of my arsenal of good words to phrase the truth. "Aren't ideal. I'm sorry." I turn away, feeling a sense of shame burying into my chest.

Keefe's eyes widen out of the corner of my eye just as Ro picks up her towel and moves further down the beach. He cups my face, pulling it towards him. "Hey, that's not what I meant. I'm so lucky to have you, and I couldn't ask for anything more. I just-"

"I could try."

Keefe's eyes widen again, and the look on his face is enough to stop my heart for a solid two seconds. The look of hope, of all the dreams he had stockpiled in his head from the moment he realized he never was going to find what he wanted, what he needed, in his own family of blood. "What?"

"I've been meaning to tell you this for a while, my parents have been trying to get in touch with me lately. Saying they've changed. I don't believe them, but if it means so much to you..."

Keefe smiles sadly. "Bangs Boy, you don't have to do that."

I know I don't have to. But the look of hope Keefe gave me planted a seed of determination inside my head. I am going to try, and nobody can change my mind.

***

"Bangs, I told you that you didn't have to do this."

Keefe pesters me with complaints as we walk hand in hand up to my parents' house, but he didn't refuse to follow me.

"I told you before, I want to. And hey, if things go wrong, the door will be right next to us, okay?" I turn around to look Keefe in the eyes. He smiles gratefully and pulls me into a warm hug.

"Thank you," he whispers with a fierce kind of passion. "I love you."

I allow myself to melt into his embrace. "Love you too, Keefe." Too soon I pull away, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand. "Ready?"

"Ready." We reach the door and Keefe looks at me with concern. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I elbow him in the side. "We're literally at the door. What do you think?"

Keefe shrugs. "Just making sure. Alright, you reunite with your family and tell me to come in when you're ready for me."

"Alright, see you soon." I kiss his cheek once more and knock on the door, waving fondly to him as he scampers to the safety of a potted plant.

The faint sound of footsteps down stairs, familiar voices. I told them I would be coming sometime today. I didn't mention Keefe. That wasn't my cleverest move. (Or maybe it was. The only thing I could do now was find out and see.)

I look around. The porch is covered with potted plants and overgrown vines blossoming Mom's favorite flowers that I remembered her sprinkling on teacakes because she thought they looked pretty that way. The porch has a strange mix of familiar and foreign qualities smashed together like the edges of two worlds colliding into one. Something about the porch makes my eyes well with tears, which I wipe away almost as quickly as they come.

My heart stops as I hear the unlocking of the door.

A familiar woman steps out of the house with soft, delicate features and smooth black hair. Her silvery blue eyes widen.

A pair of smooth arms engulf me into a hug, crushing me despite their small size. Teardrops drip down my neck and my tunic, the sound of quiet sobbing in my ear.

"Tammy, I've missed you." That was the nickname Mom called me before I left with Linh.

"I've missed you too, Mom," I whisper hoarsely in her ear, feeling tears fill my eyes again only to wipe them away with my finger.

When my mother finally pulls away, she holds my shoulder steady and looks into my eyes with the concern to make me crumple to the ground, after so many years of only getting that kind of look from Linh. "How have you been?"

That's a hard question to answer, I admit. I think of the Neverseen fights, the pain, the injuries, the feelings of loneliness and loss.

I think of the friends I made, the smiles I let spread across my face for once, the love I spent on so much more people than I could ever have imagined.

A ghost of a smile breezes past my lips. "I think I've been okay."

Mom smiles back at me, gesturing to the opened door behind her. "Would you like to come inside?"

I fight back a grimace. I know the veiled meaning behind those carefully crafted words. Mom wants to know if I want to see Dad. The truth? I don't. Not really.

I think of the disdainful looks my Dad gave me back when I was little, when I didn't have any reason not to love myself for who I was. I think of the way he treated my mom like garbage, bossing her around like she owed him something when the only thing she ever owed him was a kick to the testicles. I think of the way he treated Linh like a mini version of Mom, like gardening flowers and baking cakes was the only future the universe had in store for her. Mom treated Linh badly, but Dad was on a whole different level.

But then I think of the expression of happiness on Keefe's face when I told him I would be getting him what he wanted. No, what he deserved.

Oh, Keefe would be mad if he knew I did something I didn't want to do because of him. I bite my lip and push down the false words of consent I was ready to give. "No," I say.

I thought that Mom would be at least a little surprised. Perhaps even angry that I would get so far only to reject the company of my father. But she only hangs her head and looks at me with a face of understanding and tears. A snot bubble pokes out from her left nostril.

She throws her arms around me again, sobbing uncontrollably into my ear. I hug her back this time, wrapping my arms around her like a blanket. I feel a sharp pang realization in my chest, like a knife to the chest.Mom despises it here.

Eventually, she pulls away again, still crying her heart out. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be letting you comfort me on a day like this-"

"No," I say firmly. "No." I rest my hands on her shoulder and see her tear tracks. My gaze travels slightly downwards and my fists curl in anger.

An ugly blotch of violet is on her right cheek, barely concealed by a heavy layer of makeup. But it's there.

"Mom, has Dad been-"

Mom breaks down in tears again, digging her fingernails into my back. My mouth curls into a snarl and I patiently wait for her crying to cease.

"Tammy, what are you-"

I march into the house, up the carpeted stairs, and down the hall. My head pounds like the beat of a thousand drums and my blood boils so much I think my skull is going to explode.

Sure enough, Dad is there. In his office, with a book cradled in his hands. I walk up to himself, heaving furious breaths, and wait until he decides to stop ignoring his son and look up.

And then I punch him, square in the jaw. A groan crumples out of her mouth, dark red pouring out from his nose. I march back down the stairs, the pounding in my head starting to slow.

"Oh, Tammy," Mom cries out when I come back. Tears are still drenching her face, but slower this time. I think she has subconsciously realized that she has nothing left to spare for her husband- tears or anything else.

Mom suddenly stops crying, and I look at her in confusion. My eyebrows shoot up as I look at her face, blotchy and red. Her tears have washed off some of her makeup, revealing more of her bruise. I can't help but narrow my eyes at the marks my dad, no- Quan Song- made on her. But that's not the thing that catches my eye. On her face is a look I've never seen before. A look of pure fury.

She picks up a small potted flower on a table by the door. It's a pretty magenta one, generously watered and cared for.

Mom smashes the pretty flower on the porch, shattering the porcelain vase holding it. My jaw drops in sheer awe as one thought takes over inside my head.

Mai Song is not going to be Quan Song's perfect, pretty wife any longer.

I scowl at the image in my mind of Quan. Why did I even come here, if I knew how much of an ass he was?

I look back at the potted plant on the side of the house. A trace of messy blond hair waits patiently as it peeks out from behind pink flowers. I suppress a chuckle. Whether he is trying to make me laugh on purpose or simply terrible at hiding is beyond my knowledge. "Oh, um, Mom?"

Mom is staring at the shattered porcelain but eventually looks up to meet my gaze. I am shocked to see a toothy grin painted on her cheeks.

It's good to her see smile, after so long.

"I have someone I'd like you to meet."

I whistle, and a rascal of a blonde boy scurried out of the porch, ice-blue eyes flashing with excitement. He holds out a shaky, sweaty hand to my mother.

"Mom, this is Keefe Sencen. My boyfriend."

Mom's eyes widen, and for a second my heart is paralyzed with fear until Mom gives Keefe the most heartwarming smile in the world and gives him a fistbump.

Keefe's eyes widen too, maybe because of the out-of-character gesture or because of her grin. He recovers, barely, then returns the fistbump.

"Nice to meet you, Tam's boyfriend," Mom says warmly. "I'm going to take all the pies I baked for Quan and give them away. Would you like to share one with my son?"

Keefe's eyes fill with tears and just like my mom, he breaks down into tears, leaning on her shoulders (that Mom seems to hold a little higher than usual) for support.

Once Keefe stops crying, he looks at my mom with glassy eyes filled with joy. "I would love some pie."

Mom grins. "Great. I'm going to pack my bags and then we'll get out of here. Okay?"

Keefe barely manages a nod before breaking down into tears again, this time on my shoulder. After such an eventful day, it feels embarrassingly nice to feel his warmth on my skin. I suppress a blush and bury my head in my boyfriend's sunny blonde hair.

"Is this what it feels like?" Keefe whispers. "To be welcome?"

"I think so," I whisper back, clutching her back in my arms as the next round of tears comes.

Man, I'm really going to need to clean my shirt after this, I think to myself. I smile.

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uni-seahorse-572 · 2 years

Text

my heart a fool and yours laid bare (part 3)

*comes back after an accidental month-long hiatus with starbucks the final part of a fic I meant to finish months ago*

they love each other soooo much your honor. anyway this is half angst, half terrible metaphors, and all unedited! enjoy.

also, read on ao3! taglist (aka those who are cursed to deal with my tomfoolery): @song-tam @gay-otlc @xanadausaus @synonymroll648 (lmk if you'd like to be added / removed!)

“Fitz has a point,” Sophie says quietly. Keefe turns, frown etched across his features, the whole world distant: like something seen through the window. He gets the odd sense that he’d like to paint it, the way everything stretches out around him, compress it to still, 2D shapes to match the syrupy slowness with which his head is spinning. He can’t comprehend anything well enough; he thinks he’d like a week or two to catch back up and relearn how to think. “You are kind of an asshole.”

He flinches. Before she’d spoken, he’d forgotten she was there at all. His vision had narrowed to Fitz’s vanishing back and the terrifying lack of his emotions thrumming between them. “I didn’t…” Keefe starts, then stops, falling into silence. Where did he even go wrong?

Fitz is in love with Sophie. Sophie is in love with Fitz. Both of those things are apparent to anyone who knows them. It doesn’t even take being an Empath. Keefe had thought his efforts to get them together were, if not a totally flawless display of matchmaking, a selfless endeavor rooted entirely in his desire to make his best friend happy. After all, none of this had been for him. He knew and knows too well that Fitz will leave him someday. Fundamentally, Fitz is the good one, the golden one, and inevitably he was going to wake up and realize that one day. This mission of Keefe’s had only served to advance that date further, but of course it would always be too soon, so at least he had meant to make up for all the times he’d been a burden by virtue of who he was. That’s what Keefe does: he’s the screw-up, the one who can’t help but bring the world crashing down around everyone foolish enough to get close to him’s ears no matter how well-intentioned he is.

And now he’s done it again. Typical.

Amidst the swirling chaos in his mind, Keefe can’t figure out what to voice, so he settles on, “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, you really don’t.” Sophie’s sigh errs a little too close to Lady Gisela’s. It’s the same one his mother always makes when she’s internally bemoaning the fact that she’s cursed to have a son who can’t do anything right. At least it’s kinder than Lord Cassius’s. “Look, this isn’t my damn problem. I’d just recommend the two of you work it out sooner rather than later.” Her face softens. “The two of you have something special. I’d hate to see this be the breaking point.”

Keefe watches her go, too. He shakes his head hard, like if he does it violently enough he’ll set it to rights again and things will resume making sense. There are few things he could ever say he knows for certain, but this is one: it was always going to end like this. Melodramatic, that, yet true regardless. He’d figured he had more time. At least solitude is familiar. He’s not the kind of person who can make anyone stick around.

Around him, the party still sways together, Yasmin Hadi being dipped on the dancefloor by a boy he vaguely recognizes. She’s grinning, beaded bracelet glinting proudly around her wrist. The crowds around her share the same subtle jubilance. Keefe wishes he could say he’s happy at least today will end well for someone, for everyone he didn’t sink his cursed claws into, but he isn’t. He wishes, too, that he could scream out this ache onto the universe or that it might let him return to an hour ago.

Wishes, his father would say, are the currency of fools and useless dreamers.

Alongside Empathy often develops a skill at reading emotions merely from the face and body language. This is a well-known fact, particularly when regarding those the Empath in question has used their ability on before. Slowly, associations build between what the ability and what the eyes pick up, resulting in an uncanny perception.

As such, Lady Merewyn knows the moment Keefe steps foot into his session that something is wrong, and not only because he’s on time for once in his life. He can see that knowledge on her face, too, and he wonders why Empathy must always feel like a curse rather than a gift. Who ever figured being doomed to know too much could ever end well?

“Is the cataclysm upon us so soon? It isn’t like you to be so early.” Lady Merewyn says wryly, though she gives him no time to respond to the friendly jibe before descending into that dark, dark realm of seriousness. “Keefe, whatever’s going on… is it something I can help with?”

He rolls his eyes resolutely, dropping down across from her into his usual bean bag. “Just a spat with a friend is all. Don’t worry about it. We can get on with learning about, uh…” Wracking his brain about today’s lessons plans, Keefe’s unsurprised to find nothing in there about his Empathy sessions at all—he supposes that no teacher could ever make him truly care about schoolwork. “The, um, thing.”

Lady Merewyn chuckles, seemingly despite herself. “I think ‘the thing’ can wait another couple of days. Whatever’s going on, though, it’s not a ‘just’ if you’re this upset about it.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to the Empath,” she says sagely. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but I want you to know I’m giving you the chance now if you want it.”

Keefe stews in silence, engaging in a furious staring match with one of the posters on the wall with its ironically adorable alligator cartoon and idiotic ‘positive message’. He wonders who’d win in a battle of quiet. He could refuse to speak at all for the rest of class, and what could she even do about it? She couldn’t make him talk about anything. He isn’t even convinced she’d go all out to stop him if he decided to just walk out the door right now. Quiet is easier.

Besides, how’s he even supposed to tell anyone else the whole, ugly story when he hardly understands what happened himself?

The minutes tick by. Lady Merewyn can be obstinate when she wants to be. The weight of her gaze prickles against his forehead. He taps against the floor, one-two one-two, and hates that the simple motion reminds him of Fitz. The last thing he wants to do is unload his shit on anyone else. Besides, what’s pushing away one more person now?

Yet the stillness eats at him. It troubles his insides and brings the memories rushing back in, of what Fitz’s love felt like pressed against his shoulder or cradled in their joined hands, of the echo of his voice fracturing with furious hurt. It makes him think, again and again and again, what am I missing?

“Do you ever think,” he starts, slow and careful, “that Sir Richard was right about Empaths?”

Lady Merewyn starts at the question. Her brows march steadily towards each other, curving into curiosity left unvoiced. “I can’t say that I have. Touch is important to most elves’ wellbeing, after all.”

“It’s not about that. It’s not about me.” His voice rises in steady frustration, directed intense at his mentor. His fists curl where they rest atop his lap. Keefe can feel their half-moon indentations in his palm. “What if Empathy does more harm than good?”

This quiets her yet longer, the gravity of the situation evidently clear, and each passing second pushes him closer towards clawing out of his own skin. There’s too much in him to settle easily, the heartbreak bearing heavy down and all he asks is to know whether he really does have only himself to blame.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” She sighs, and the irritation wells up in him again. “Knowing other’s emotions as intimately as we do can certainly create a lot of problems. But if we’re able to train ourselves to control the amount of attention we pay to our ability, there are certainly times when Empaths serve in incredibly important capacities.”

Wrong answer. Keefe needs a yes or no. Is what he can do worth it? Is he worth it? Everything he has ever known or been has made things worse. That can’t be worth it. This isn’t a complicated question; he can divide it easily into black and white. If Sir Richard was right all along… what does that make these last few years of his life? And what does that say about his relationship with Fitz, the one person he’d broken all the rules with? Fitz is the one truly good thing Keefe has. The only thing worse than losing him now would be the knowledge that the two of them never should have existed at all.

“Please tell me,” Lady Merewyn says, firm and slow, somewhere between invitation and instruction, “what happened.” Fire shines behind her eyes. He wonders, idly, what she thinks the answer will be. What she’d do if she was right.

Keefe holds onto his silence. Quiet, for him, is a strange beast. His thoughts have a habit of tumbling off his tongue whether he wants them to or not. He could run his mouth without stopping in an empty room, to someone who isn’t even listening, like his father’s stone wall facade or his mother’s distracted noises of vague disapproval—like she assumes that whatever he’s saying, she doesn’t need to hear it to know it’s not something she’d appreciate. Secret-keeping is a shot in the dark in the best of times, covered up by nonsensical prattle because he can’t keep completely silent. Keefe wrestles with his tongue, the effort of not speaking a battle in his mind, as he stares Lady Merewyn down and tries to figure out how long it’ll be before she gives up.

Everything he wants to say burbles up to the top of his mind. Buried feelings and hidden fears, lined up in the kind of eloquent phrasing he never actually manages to say, the kind of sentences that might just make someone understand. Keefe can play out how he thinks that conversation would go in his head. He can imagine Lady Merewyn or whatever supporting character his brain decides to supply magically knowing how to say the perfect reassurances, the right explanations, knowing how to make everything fall into place. The problem is he wants to. Keefe wants to so badly, to try and untangle what’s trapped within him, but even as the words teeter on cliff’s edge he bites his tongue.

The pain there is sharp. Instant. But it serves its purpose, a cruel reminder. Keefe has to be careful, even here, because the way things play out in his head is a fairytale. Reality would never be half so kind.

In the end, he starts with, “I messed up,” because that’s familiar territory, well-tread ground. It’s probably been years since he could say that sentence and have it be a lie. He twists his lips to one side, heart turning sour. “Bad. I don’t know what went wrong. I tried to help my friend, because of something I figured out through Empathy. Instead I kinda-sorta ruined everything.”

Lady Merewyn doesn’t react, a remarkable feat. He’ll have to ask her for a masterclass sometime. “I can see how that might cause an issue. Keefe… whatever your intentions were, it’s rarely a good idea to act on what your Empathy tells you. It doesn’t give the whole story. And, even with those you’re closest with, I’m afraid it can be a major violation of privacy. That kind of interference is too likely to be off the mark and easily goes too far. Maybe, whatever you thought you figured out, you were wrong.” The lecture lands a little too close to their first session together, the one on ethics. The one on respecting boundaries and approved Empathy uses. Keefe flinches, guilt trickling down from the crown of his head from having disregarded a rule among the most basic of his mentor’s teachings.

“I know that now,” he says, bitterly. Too late, anyway. Why’d anyone even bother to lay out groundrules for his ability? They should’ve known Keefe Sencen has never met a barrier he won’t break through. Especially when he really, really shouldn’t. “But what do I do?”

“To repair the relationship?” She shrugs, as though the answer’s simple. Not like he can carry out simple instructions anyway. “You apologize. You tell the truth. You find out if they’re willing to forgive, and if not, you respect their wishes.”

Keefe wants to say he isn’t sure what truths he has to tell. He wants to say there’s no point in asking if Fitz can forgive him, because he can’t, because they all know that this time Keefe has crossed a line he didn’t even know was there. He wants to say that he’s not even sure that’s a wish he’d be capable of respecting, because what is Keefe without Fitz? What’s a troublemaker without a golden boy, a screw-up without a prodigy, a reckless fool without an anchor?

What he says is “Okay.”

When Keefe reaches Everglen, he’s not the only one there; Sophie bumps into him on her way back through the glowing gates.

“Hi,” she says, voice a hair shy of fully flat. This is lucky, he supposes. He does have to apologize to her too. This conversation seems easier than the one ahead of him, at least. And after all, judging by the way she stands, arms crossed and weight resting fully to one side as she settles to standing just far enough away that it’s awkward, Sophie’s still upset too.

Her emotions wave through the air, tugging at the edges of his awareness. Keefe ignores them. “Look,” he starts, words too rushed and crashing together. He can’t look her in the eyes. He doesn’t think he’d like what he’d see there. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake, though I’m not entirely sure what it was. I took all of that way too far.”

“Yeah, you did.” Sophie’s tone runs him straight through. Without meaning to, he can feel the sour twist to the air, the rhythms of her frustration. “Did you even bother to consider what I thought?”

Keefe shakes his head. He hadn’t bothered to really puzzle through if the attraction was mutual on Sophie’s side. He’d just assumed. It had seemed obvious, at the time. Fitz liked her, and who didn’t like Fitz? Fitz has always been so easy to love. Easy when you don’t know him, the Wonderboy reigning over all of Foxfire, yet even easier when you do.

Sophie laughs. It’s not a happy sound. Instead it rings discordant between them, nearing eerie. “I had a feeling. For the record, I’m not interested in Fitz. I never was.”

“I’m sorry,” Keefe repeats, because it’s the best he has. He shifts his gaze upwards again. Her stare pins him down, assessing and dissecting him, accompanied only by the tapping of her fingers against her thigh through the long silence.

“Don’t worry about it. Just never mess around with my nonexistent love life again.” Sophie smiles a crescent moon sliver like a peace offering, finally holding her home crystal up to the light and shimmering away.

Once she’s gone, he breathes a little lighter again, the pressure clamped tight around his chest loosening.

If only this next part wasn’t going to be yet worse.

It’s by no means a short walk from the Everglen gates to Fitz’s bedroom, but at the same time it doesn’t prove long enough for Keefe to figure out what he wants to say. What’s the truth here, anyway? That Fitz was probably right when he called him an asshole? Somehow admitting as much seems an insufficient apology.

Over the course of his life, Keefe can admit he hasn’t apologized to people often. At least not willingly. Most of the people he might’ve said one to don’t matter to him enough to deserve one, and he can be obstinate when he needs to be. He’s mastered the art of gritting his jaw when one of his parents or mentors attempts to prod him into half-hearted remorse. Even with Fitz, all those other times before when Keefe had stuck his foot in his mouth or landed them both in hot water for a prank gone wrong, he rarely voiced any guilt—instead choosing to play it off as a joke or the like. Keefe possesses little experience in this arena.

The hallways of Everglen are blessedly empty, as per usual. For such a massive home, so few people live here that swathes of rooms always remain unused for months at a time (not that he can claim any better, coming from Candleshade, though there every resident generally wants nothing more than to entirely avoid being forced to endure one another’s presence).

By the time he knocks on the door, Keefe’s worked himself into spiral after spiral. It leaves him antsy.

“Go away, Biana,” Fitz calls from within. “I’m trying to focus.”

“Not Biana,” Keefe says, deciding that’s as good of an invitation as he’s going to get. He pushes the door open and steps inside, only hesitating momentarily on the threshold. “Biana wouldn’t have knocked.”

Fitz’s eyes shift, doe-wide, his entire posture stiffening like a glowstick cracking back into place. He sits at his desk, the light streaming through the open window to rest along the tops of his bookshelves and the wind stirring his papers. Various school supplies surround him; ink smudges litter his hands and one even clings to his forehead. It’s an achingly familiar sight, calling to mind thousands of days like it: the distinct feeling that they have been here before and will be again.

Hollow, he asks, “What are you doing here?”

Keefe doesn’t step forward. He figures, this way, with one hand still resting on the doorframe, Fitz can tell him to leave when things go sideways. “Can’t I stop by to visit a friend?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he catalogs Fitz’s wince. It’s strange, the slight motion not being accompanied by a wave of emotions. Fitz’s face shutters, every trace of feeling vanishing quick as swiping lines drawn in sand back into smoothness. “I’m not doing this right now.”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Keefe blurts out. “I am, okay? I know I made a mistake. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Right,” Fitz scoffs. “You ‘didn’t mean it’. Keefe, you can’t do something that—that cruel and expect me to forgive you if you just waltz in here with a skeleton apology.”

The words don’t hurt so much as confound. Keefe can’t puzzle out their meaning. “What are you talking about? I wanted you to be happy. That’s all.”

“If you thought that would make me happy, then you don’t know me at all.” Fitz drops his gaze back to the papers on his desk. It’s final, his expression, the hard set of his face as he returns determinedly to filling lined pages with slanted scrawl.

Internally, Keefe runs through what he knows again. His best friend is furious at him. Sophie’s upset, too, because she hadn’t liked Fitz. What if that held true for both sides? What if Keefe had misread the situation, and now he’s ruined the most important friendship in his life through being too pushy in a plan only meant to make Fitz happy?

That almost makes sense. He can’t tell why it doesn’t.

Keefe steps forward, slowly, watching how Fitz’s shoulders rise up around his ears at his approach. This is a mistake, but that’s never stopped him before. He reaches out, fingertips brushing against the side of Fitz’s arms, and the faint contact gives way to feelings flooding forth.

The first he can pick out is hurt. It drips icy and sharp across his own insides. It swirls in the space around the two of them, choking out the air. There are few of Fitz’s emotions that Keefe isn’t fully familiar with, but this is one. Keefe has sensed it maybe twice before. He can’t begin to guess at what to do in the face of it. It’s his fault. Who else’s would it be? It’s always his fault. His hands aren’t made for holding something gently. His head wasn’t built for letting things go right. He doesn’t know what to do with every trace of goodness he gets close to, and for so long Fitz has been a blinding light against the dark. He makes Keefe feel whole.

Fitz whips out of his chair, stumbling backwards into his desk. “Stop acting like nothing’s changed. Things have changed, okay? I don’t know how else you expected this to end.”

“Not like this. I promise I just wanted to help you.” Keefe drags his fingers through his hair, offering up one of his patented smiles, tinged around the edges with thick smudges of exhaustion. “I swear I’m trying, but I don’t know what to do if I don’t even know what’s wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me like this,” Fitz whispers.

“I wasn’t,” Keefe protests automatically. He’s operating on smoke and guesses, facing his best friend without even knowing the source of the pain flickering behind his words. He digs deeper into what he’d managed to sense of Fitz’s emotions, pushing through the hurt to what’s underneath. His leg flicks out—just enough to brush against Fitz’s—and that’s all he needs to confirm it. The love’s still there, the same as he’d noticed before, drenched with syrupy bitterness that bleeds sour through the both of them. Fitz is in love with someone, but it’s not Sophie. Keefe had misread the situation. No wonder Fitz had been increasingly uncomfortable with each successive matchmaking attempt, though that still didn’t explain the depths of his present anger… And who else could it even be? Who else was Fitz close to, close enough to have that strong and easy bond? Who else could inspire such feelings of affection in Foxfire’s golden boy? Who else did Fitz seek out half as often, smile at a quarter as much, and who else won his rare, precious laughs?

“No. No, you don’t get to do this, okay?” Fitz’s voice rises unsteady in volume, fracturing down the center and wobbling at the edges. It spills over with warm, wet fury. He advances, with Keefe stepping backwards automatically in response, movements jerky in his shock. “Look, I’m sorry about my stupid feelings. Is that what you want me to say? I’m so fucking sorry you’ve had to deal with that all these years, but you crossed a line. You crossed every line. Was it funny, at least? To pretend you didn’t know what you were doing, to try and fix me, your poor little broken best friend and laugh on the inside because all along you knew?”

And all Keefe can think is oh. It makes a terrible kind of sense. All along—could Fitz have really…?

It doesn’t seem right. Yet the love Keefe sensed had been there before Sophie. Yet when it comes down to it, there’s no one closer to Fitz than Keefe. There’s no one else who Fitz’s mask comes completely off around with just one word or raised eyebrow. Keefe swallows hard. “I didn’t…”

There’s no sign that Fitz registers his pitiful deflection except for the further tightening of his jaw, the way he always holds back hurt. “You’re an Empath,” he snaps. “Of course you did. Of course you knew. And I tried, alright? I tried. I tried not to inconvenience you with how I felt about you, tried to get rid of how I felt every way I knew how. Maybe it just wasn’t enough for you, but I swear I tried.”

If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s clear now.

Fitz is in love with Keefe. Wherein he’s Keefe, wherein his best friend has been in love with him this whole time. Wherein Keefe’s ruined everything. Just like always. And even now that he knows the truth, he doesn’t know how to fix this.

Right. Fix this. Keefe needs to make this okay again. That’s all he can think of. He refuses to lose Fitz, not after everything. Certainly not like this.

When Fitz is angry like he is now, when everything he’s kept inside rises to the surface, it takes a lot to settle him. And all the while things in his head, Keefe knows, will only get worse and worse, an endless spiral leading him down and down as Fitz’s shame rises and his rationality deserts him yet further.

There’s only one answer, now that Keefe’s thought about it that way.

Without pausing to overthink it, or really to think it at all, in the first place, he leans forward. He kisses his best friend in the entire world—the best friend who’s apparently been in love with him without him knowing—and it’s warm, strange. Sweet.

By the time Keefe pulls away, Fitz has been stunned into silence, staring at him with a strange, raw wonder. It’s so desperately different from how closed-off he was merely a moment ago.

Like always, Keefe’s tongue moves faster than his brain. His words tumble out in a tangled jumble before he’s bothered to grapple with the revelations of the last few minutes. “I didn’t know, Fitz. I promise you I didn’t know, and I don’t know how, but I thought you liked Sophie. And I was sure that the only way I could repay you for having to deal with me all these years was making sure you were happy. I realize now that it was a mistake. Because I’m in love with you, too. I just didn’t know that either, but now that I do, I think everything’s making a whole lot more sense.”

“What?” Fitz’s voice comes out small and fragile as a baby bird, and Keefe knows now more than ever how easily he could break this moment, shatter the both of them more completely than could be repaired.

Keefe takes his hand, holding it as softly as he knows how. Fitz is there tucked next to his own heart once more, his feelings flowing gentle through where their skin meets, and then they’re there again—the two of them. And it’s like being young again. It’s like asking Fitz to be his person, all those years ago, something new blossoming between them, flowers made out of glass. “I’m sorry,” Keefe says. Those are the two best words he can offer. They always taste unfamiliar on his tongue, usually confined to the rhythm of his heartbeat rather than spoken aloud.

Fitz inhales shuddery and slow. “Please don’t be.” The way he looks at Keefe, it’s like he’s afraid hell disappear.

Sweet, cool wonder hums through their hands, Fitz’s emotions warm and heady as always, and that awe’s familiar—hauntingly so. Keefe recognizes it as the same awe that floods him when the light hits Fitz’s face just right, when they stay up into the night with hushed words landing alight in the darkness. He recognizes it now. Fitz carries an angel’s glow in his bones. Whatever he is it’s better than this world deserves, far more than someone like Keefe should ever be allowed to touch, luminescent. As long as Keefe has the honor of his presence e means to cling to Fitz as tightly as he can.

And that’s the strange thing. Why would Fitz feel that wonder too? Keefe has always been the lucky one between them. Sometimes he figures it’s only their friendship that makes him worth something.

“I can’t believe you never realized,” Fitz whispers.

“I guess I can be a bit of an idiot sometimes.” Keefe shakes his head, squeezing Fitz’s hand tighter in his own. He tries to memorize the contours of his fingers, every line on his palm. Sophie told him, once, that some humans believe those lines tell the future, but all Keefe can find in Fitz’s is a map towards home. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow. If you let me.”

His eyes warm, fond, Fitz leans forward on his toes and presses a faint kiss to Keefe’s forehead. “I don’t need any of that. I just need you.”

Heat fills Keefe from his toes to his head, flames flickering gentle against the inside of his skin. A strange lightness bobs in his mind, the faintness he associates with forgetting to drink water. His knees buckle. Fitz catches him, hands curling around his elbows, and then tugs him over to sit on his bed.

Keefe sighs. The world slows. This is the most right he’s ever felt in his own self. “I wish I’d known sooner.”

“Yeah,” Fitz says, “me too.”

His arm curls tighter around Keefe, and Keefe leans into his side. It’s new and it’s familiar, both at once, and—finally—Keefe knows they’re exactly on the same page.

#keefitz #kotlc #ari writes #ari can words #fitz vacker #keefe sencen #sophie foster #i think that's it? maybe??#been a minute

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squishmallow36 · 2 years

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Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - Forty-seven

Word count: 2.9k

Tw: biphobia

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-fruity-frog @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @never-mourn-the-good @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @cotyledon-tomentosa @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @cherryberrybitch

On Ao3 or below the cut!

I shuffle to my room, collapsing face first onto my bed.

It’s a few minutes before Mom knocks at my half-open door, and I turn and lift my head just enough to ask, “Yeah?”

“Am I allowed in?”

Preposition.

“Sure.”

She sits at the edge of my bed, asking, “How are you doing? Considering...?”

I am this close to writing an essay about how nobody freaking cares until some traumatic event happens.

“I’m okay. You?”

“If I’m to be honest, I’m a little shaken up. But that’s to be expected.”

That sounds like something I’d say. Really puts things in perspective.

“I don’t think that’s why you’re here though.”

The triplets smash something downstairs, and Mom doesn’t immediately go running after them, giving me more evidence to fuel my thesis.

Ignoring them, she says, “You would be correct.”

Something about the way she said it made it feel like an ‘unfortunately’ would have blended perfectly into her sentence.

That fills me with dread, and I would deflate if I wasn’t already lying flat on my bed.

“Your Dad and I were talking and--.” she pauses, choosing words carefully.

This allows my imagination to fill in the gap.

You got scared and now we’re going into hiding with the Black Swan?

She says, “I spoke to Tiergan and you’re gonna have a sleepover with Tam and Linh.”

That’s code for ‘the Neverseen freaked me out and now I’m going to distance myself from you to prevent further damage.’

“Okay,” I mumble.

“It’s just for one night.”

That reminds me an irrational fear of mine. I don’t understand why I’m afraid of going to sleepovers, but I don’t understand a lot of things.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t have any friends until Sophie, so I never normalized it, mentally. I don’t know.

Having other people come to my house for a sleepover, however, is exciting.

At least I have a perfectly valid excuse for my mood to plummet. “You know how I feel about sleepovers.”

“I know, honey. I can see if Sophie can come.”

That won’t help, but, “Okay.”

The triplets smash something else, laughing maniacally.

Mom sighs, muttering under her breath. All I catch is ‘yeti.’

“I should go find out what they’ve done.”

I make a sound of agreement into the comforter, and I feel the bed shift ever so slightly as she stands up.

“You’d tell me if you need anything. Right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You can leap over there whenever you’re ready. Love you.”

“Love you too,” I mumble.

I count to thirty before flipping myself over to stare at the ceiling.

What’s wrong with me?

That’s a can of worms. Are you really sure you want to get into that?

I have to dismiss that question, knowing it will lead me down a rabbit hole that’ll go nowhere useful.

All of these secrets are tearing me apart. How many is it now?

I’m gay, I’m dating Fitz, Fitz’s bi, Biana’s questioning but possibly bi, Keefe’s living in Fitz’s literal closet, Keefe’s got a new ability-detecting ability.

Rex is talentless.

That one hurts the most by far.

Elwin’s mlm and dating a councillor, and the whole Tinker dilemma from the queer stuff to the Neverseen stuff.

Anything else? Amy’s also a lesbian but, like, she just came out to her parents. But her parents don’t know Nyira yet…

And I don’t know if anything Alvar-related is classified as a secret…

Then there’s Glimmer. Who’s half human. With a special ability. Named Eleanor.

Honestly, that list in itself could be a verse of a parody of “We Didn’t Start the Fire” with a little bit of work trying to fit the syllables.

You should really be glad that you’re a weirdo.

I guess. But that doesn’t make it that much less suspicious. And I hate lying.

Correction. You’re terrible at lying and so you gave up because getting caught scared you too much, and now you don’t have any experience whatsoever or skills to help you get away with it.

I know this train of thought could drive off a cliff with that but instead I’m going to gently encourage you to go start packing. You know you’ll overthink all of it.

That’s...fair. But that doesn’t mean I like it.

I pack for at least three days of clothes, because I don’t know what might happen so it’s better to be over prepared than under prepared.

I bring both the first and second books of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series because what if I finish the first one? They’re reasonably short, so even though I’m on chapter four, I could potentially finish it.

Like I’m actually going to have time to read.

I’m fully aware that I’m going to spend as much time as possible indoors on my Imparter.

After I prepare myself mentally, I text Linh to let her know that I’m going to be leaping over there within the next five minutes assuming the triplets don’t obstruct my path.

She replies with an ASCII smiley face.

When I leap over there, she’s standing at the top of an unimaginably long staircase, and asks, “Did you see my little smiley face?”

I stop, because she’s already deviated from my mental script I crafted while packing, before remembering it.

“Yeah. How’d you learn how to do it?”

She shrugs happily. “Glimmer. But it should be common knowledge.”

“That it should. The classic and all of the keyboard smiley faces.”

“There’s more?”

I pull out my Imparter and open up a blank Google Doc, beginning to list them as we descend the stairs.

Halfway down, not used to this much physical activity, I ask, breathlessly, “Are these stairs going to Exile? Because if I haven’t walked through the center of the Earth, someone should really recheck their math.”

She laughs softly, not even mildly fatigued.

Thankfully, she distracts me by detailing all of the things that have happened since we last spoke at length.

We aren’t the closest of friends, but she seems kinda desperate to talk to someone else, but I get to know all of the tricks she’s played on Tam, and I copy them into a Google Doc for later use against the triplets.

When it’s my turn to infodump, I have to tiptoe around my recently accumulated abundance of secrets.

We finally get to the bottom, and I swear, if there were any more steps, I would have seriously considered rolling myself down.

Linh graciously gives me thirty seconds to catch my breath before knocking on the door, saying, “Have fun, Tammy!” before running off to who knows where.

I manage one of my legendary awkward waves, saying, “Hey.”

Tam greets me with a nod, before gesturing to me to follow him.

His room is significantly less Tam than I’d have expected, considering that I don’t believe that he owns any clothes that aren’t black.

Yet, his room’s yellow, of all colours. He doesn’t have much stuff in here, either, except for a cat statue in a corner, but the lack of things makes sense.

I doubt Exilium is the kind of place that’d let him get a ton of material possessions, and he doesn’t seem like he’d want any of his belongings from Choralmere.

I sit on the edge of his bed, and we don’t exchange any words for the next hour because I don’t see the need for any conversation. I’m playing on my Imparter, and he’s losing his mind reading something, when Tiergan yells that someone’s at the door.

“It’s probably Sophie,” I say, as he sighs, annoyed, before standing up to open the front door.

Inspiration strikes at the strangest times, and I start sketching some designs, giving myself a papercut as I pull my notebooks out of my bag so that I don’t have to get up to open or close the door.

One step closer to the Wall-E hover chairs.

It should also work for Tam’s room. Considering that I’m eyeballing the dimensions on his door instead of mine.

I get so focused that when I notice Sophie watching over my notebook, I scare myself.

“What? You didn’t sense a disturbance in the force?”

“Clearly, I did not.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“I don’t want to stand up to open the door anymore so I’m going to fix it.”

“Have fun with that.”

She completely understands my thought pattern. Or rather, my tendency toward Technopath brain. That’s best friend material right there.

“Linh’s outside if you wanna go talk,” Tam says, leaning against his doorway.

Sophie looks at me, a silent question asking if I want to come with her, and I shake my head.

“You know I’m going to be thinking about this the entire time if I do.” I wave around my notebook for emphasis. “Plus, it’s outside, and I try to avoid that whenever possible.”

Another hour passes, and I’ve hit a mental wall, so I rummage around my backpack, trying to find my headphones.

I swear, sitting on the floor.

“Hm?” Tam asks.

“Forgot my earbuds.”

“Hm.”

I try to keep working, but end up giving up and going back to playing on my Imparter.

“Why do you need them?” Tam asks.

I shrug. “Music helps me think.”

“And you need the thingies you forgot?”

“I mean, I could play it out loud but I don’t--.”

“Do you realize how often the Beatles are played here?” he interrupts. “Play whatever you want. Just not the Beatles, I beg you.”

“...Okay. This is my current favourite, but let me know if it’s too loud.”

I start playing the album at the quietest setting that I can still hear.

Tam takes it immediately and cranks it up because apparently it wasn’t loud enough.

At the end of the first song, Tam remarks, “That song absolutely slapped.”

“See, not all human music is bad.”

“This is human? I could’ve sworn that this was dwarven.”

“Yeah. If you could pick out the words, they’re in English. It’s a human language.”

“There were some new dwarven bands that sounded just like this back when we lived down there.”

“This album is actually fourteen years old this year, so it’s not exactly new on the human scale.”

With that, I go back to mouthing all of the lyrics, which I somehow know. I don’t know why I tried so hard to learn them in the first place, because in the end it doesn’t even matter.

They’ll get forgotten soon enough.

Sophie happens to walk in during the most difficult song to memorize due to the sheer number of words rapped during the verses.

Tam barely contains a screech, and I understand. I know how it feels when Bex walks into my room without asking.

“Is that...Linkin Park?” Sophie asks, puzzled.

“Yeah, why?” I reply.

“I did not expect that. What’s your favourite?”

“You dare make me choose? It’s ‘Hit the Floor.’ I don’t know why. But I’ve only listened to Hybrid Theory and Meteora though. They just dropped another album like two months ago, so that’s on my list, but at the same time I’m happy with what I know.”

“I’d have guessed you were more of a ‘Numb’ fan.”

“Why? I mean, I don’t hate it, but it’s not in the top ten. Usually, the amount that I like the song is proportional to how metal it is.” I shrug.

“You learn new things every day. Anyway, Linh’s sent me to tell you that dinner’s ready.”

Tam gets up without a word, and walks into the dining room.

“Have you ever listened to Skillet?” I ask Sophie, standing up myself.

“Never heard of them.”

“They have the vibe that I like, so I’ll send them to you. But I’m not a total psychopath. I also have an extensive library of film scores and Disney songs to which I listen.”

“And that syntax is supposed to convince me?”

“That syntax is me trying to do my best to avoid ending a sentence in a preposition, so don’t argue with me. I’m weird. You know this.”

“I still cannot believe you listen to Linkin Park.”

“It’s all your fault. Your iPod playlists did this to me.”

“I didn’t program your cyborg brain, but keep telling yourself that.”

I smile as we sit down, and I notice that somehow Marella, Biana, and Fitz were dragged over here.

And obviously Tiergan, Wylie, and Glimmer are here, considering they live here, although I am surprised that they didn’t stick all of us at a kids table.

Clearly they haven’t eaten with all of us in a room together. If it doesn’t turn into a food fight because of Keefe and Tam’s hair feud, then it’ll be a success.

Maybe the fact that Keefe’s in Fitz’s closet will prevent this.

A few minutes after we’ve all settled into our seats, Linh says, “I’d like to make an announcement, if you don’t mind, while we’re all here. I don’t really know when we’ll all be together like this anytime soon.”

Marella starts coughing, and she mutters something under her breath about witnesses.

“That too,” Linh allows, shrugging.

She takes a breath before saying, “Marella and I are dating.”

My first instinct is to make panicked eye contact with Fitz, and, after a second, I pray to the stars that everyone is more concerned with Tam.

“Excuse me, what?” he asks, almost yelling the last syllable.

Ignoring him, Biana asks, “So how long’s it been?”

“Three?” Linh looks at Marella, fact checking. “Three and a half months?”

Tam looks close to a total breakdown. “Three and a half months and you didn’t fyrian tell me?”

“This is exactly why you don’t get to know things,” Linh mutters, only angering him further.

“Marella, we are going to be having a very long talk about my sister.”

“That sounds fun. I can talk about her for hours. Can you?” Marella replies.

Tam doesn’t dignify it with a response, and Biana continues her interrogation.

I’m consulted for terminology almost constantly, because most queer terms are completely alien to elves.

For example, I have to explain what the word ‘lesbian’ means, and then Marella’s totally like, “oh yeah. That’s me.”

Linh, however, isn’t totally sure she isn’t m-spec, but she’s definitely wlw. She has a girlfriend, after all.

I had to define both m-spec and wlw.

But this is where controversy starts to rear its ugly head.

“Am I supposed to believe that people can be into both genders?” Glimmer asks.

I start to shake in anger, spots dancing in front of my vision.

I make eye contact with Fitz, and it’s apparent how much that one comment has absolutely destroyed ninety percent of his acceptance of himself.

“You’ve heard of Queen, the band, right?” I ask, trying desperately to keep my voice down.

“Yeah, who hasn’t?” she replies, saturated with attitude.

“Freddie Mercury was bi. And nobody seems to know this fact.”

“That’s a load of bullcrap.”

I pull up the Wikipedia article, and tell her to read for herself.

“So what?”

“I also saw a statistic that more than half of queer adults in the United States identify as bi, although there was another statistic that only like twenty-three percent of bi people are out to their close friends.”

“So half of the queers can’t make up their mind and they know it. That’s hilarious.”

“I’m willing to bet their decision to not come out is because they’re afraid of their friends reacting the way you are.”

She snorts. “Like I’m the one with the crazy reaction.”

“No one else seems to have a problem.”

“That’s because they’re too afraid of hurting anyone’s feelings.”

Finally, that triggers a reaction.

Glimmer just smirks.

“You all didn’t even give a crap until I called you out. Pathetic.”

She stomps away, leaving silence in her wake.

Fitz dares to break it. “So...while we’re on the subject, Keefe’s pan.”

“And what does that mean? If you don’t mind me asking,” Wylie asks.

Fitz looks at me for help.

I explain, “The official definition is attraction to all genders, and what that means is its own rabbit hole in itself. But I personally prefer the Keefe definition, while less technically correct, of ‘Girls are hot, guys are hot. Fight me.’”

“Is that not true, though?” Biana asks.

Marella counters, “Biana, do you have something you want to tell us?”

She blushes. “I’m just saying.”

Fitz comes to her rescue, saying, “Anyway. Keefe would want everyone to know.”

“Does that include Lord Cassius?” Linh asks.

“Yeah,” I answer. “He’s basically disowned Keefe until he, quote, ‘Comes to his senses.’ It’s as bad as it sounds. I was there. Accidentally outed myself in the process.”

“Again, Dex, you might want to think about that sentence you just said,” Marella says.

“Hey. Other people are coming out and Biana already knows. So, yeah. I’m gay too.”

I’m just a little bit too far into a state of panic to completely register everyone’s reaction, but I don’t have to get into another argument.

Although, Biana is determined to get details out of me. Like she doesn’t already know too much.

And she’s already making plans to talk about boys with Sophie and I. Because this is a sleepover. And I’m pretty sure I don’t have a choice in the matter.

At least there’s an unfair number of hot Disney princes to help me lie about anything that even remotely relates to Fitz.

There’s no way in Exile I’m going to be the reason he’s outed. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.

#i lost track of time so yesterday was like what the fuck it's friday already?#kotlc #detz #dex dizznee #fitz vacker #kotlc fanfic

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