#give me those sweet sweet tether scenes

[northstarkov]

Moments from Chapter 9, Ruin and Rising - Leigh Bardugo

[moorishflower]

Okay okay okay (hi!) fic idea for ed/xenk where they get hit with or have to use a Tether Essence spell (5e) and are connected for a length of time. You could use the spell as is or get creative with it! (Bonus points if Xenk is really fun and sweet with Kira ♥️)

hey friend how's it feel to have connected with my brain on a psychic level because I was LITERALLY thinking of a sort of Iron Bands of Bilarro scenario where Xenk goes to get Ed out of prison early and has to chain them together somehow to keep him from just ditching in the night

Under the cut for the scene where Xenk casts the spell (this does not start out happy this is very definitely Xenk being forced to essentially chain a sentient creature to himself)

"You're Thayan," Edgin says. There is a note of accusation in his voice that Xenk has heard many times over the last century, and no good deeds, no oaths, no shining armor has ever seemed to ease it.

"I was born in Thay," he corrects, though the distinction is often lost on those he speaks with. "I doubt that Thay would still claim me as her son."

Edgin pushes away from him, skidding on the icy stone. His arms pinwheel and his back slams against the edge of the cell doorway, making him grunt again.

"I'm not going with him," he says. There is more than simply fear or disgust in his expression.

There is hatred. Deep, abiding, righteous hatred.

"Don't got a choice," Renarus says, gleeful. "Ulaf, slap some manacles on him."

Xenk raises his hand. "There is no need," he says, and reaches, once again, for the scroll on his belt. He looks directly at Edgin as he does so. He ignores the guard, Ulaf, who has taken out his crossbow and has it trained over Edgin's heart. The woman in the cell has risen to her feet, eyes darting between Edgin and the guard. Renarus takes the moment to yank the ring of keys out of Ulaf's hand, swinging the cell door shut and locking it. He does it with quick and practiced ease. Xenk wonders how often he visits his prisoners. How often he finds use for the truncheon at his belt.

"I am sorry," he tells Edgin, and unfurls the scroll. He can see Edgin's throat working, his eyes so wide they are nearly all white, and Xenk finds himself once again hating that he must do this, that circumstances have demanded this of him, that he is bound by oath and contract to take the freedom from a living creature. It serves the greater good, he reminds himself, but it is a paltry comfort as he reads the words on the scroll, magic rolling easily off his tongue. He does not need to speak Draconic to understand the purpose of the spell, and when the final syllable of the incantation leaves his lips he feels the curious and rarely-familiar sensation of his will projected outwards, as though he has reached across towards Edgin with a hand that had forgotten he possessed. His will slams against Edgin's, and there is a brief moment in which he wonders if this man will actually overcome the spell...and then he gives. Edgin blinks rapidly, shivering as the magic washes over him, and then lets out a shout of alarm as a circle of liquid light forms around his left wrist.

"It is done," Xenk says. He holds up his own left hand to demonstrate, displaying the golden light that is already sinking into his gauntlet and disappearing beneath. "We are bound, you and I, until the magic is dispelled."

[deathsweetblossoms]

Hope, Elain, and Elriel

I’m in the middle of compiling a list of all the seeds that have been planted in Frost & Starlight, and where I think those narrative seeds and foreshadowing will take us as we move forward -- when I came across this and now I don’t think anyone can convince me that Azriel and Elain are not endgame going forward. 

Hope is a main theme running through this entire series. Most of our characters rely on hope to survive some of the darkest ordeals. Papa Archeron begins the series in Book 1 by telling Feyre, 

“We need hope as much as we need bread and meat. We need hope, or else we cannot endure.”

In Frost and Starlight, we meet a weaver when Elain and Feyre go shopping before the solstice. Weaving, threads, looms, etc, have been likened to fate in this series -- so the meeting of a WEAVER in this scene, and the tapestry that we see, is, I think, a HUGE clue about where Elain’s story is going to go. 

Void

Feyre stops before a tapestry of the insignia of the Night Court in Chapter 15 of Frost and Starlight - so, she and Elain are looking at the Night Court insignia woven by this weaver.

Feyre asks about the black fabric, she’s drawn to it: 

“The tapestry had been woven from fabric so black it seemed to devour the light, so black it almost strained the eye. The insignia, however, had been rendered in silver thread… No, not silver. A sort of iridescent thread that shifted with sparks of color. Like woven starlight.”

“I call it Void. It absorbs the light. Creates a complete lack of color.“ 

“(My husband) is gone and I’m not. Void was born of that feeling”

“That extraordinary fabric, created and woven in grief, that I had briefly touched and never wish to know again, contained a loss I could not imagine recovering from”

We learn that this pieced of art was born out of the artist’s grief. Fate wove in a way that she lost her husband, a grief that is well known to Feyre. 

It is Elain, however, ELAIN asks about the silver thread weaving through Void. As the weaver answers her, the strings on her loom “vibrate” and she holds Elain’s gaze (fate, the way it seems to still when something important is happening throughout the series): 

 “I call it Hope. I made it after I mastered Void”

Hearing this, Feyre contemplates what she’s hearing, what she’s seeing: 

“I stared and stared at the black fabric that was like peering into a pit of hell. And then stared at the iridescent, living silver thread that cut through it -- bright despite the darkness that devoured all other light and color.”

“..The impossible depth of blackness before me, the unlikely defiance of Hope shining through it, whispered the truth before I knew it”

I believe this to be a metaphor for Elain, and what she is going to step into being as the series progresses. Think to the bonus chapter of Silver Flames when Rhys and Feyre*** are speaking about Elain, and her brazenness that Feyre had never seen before. Feyre says, “She’s been brave when she had to be, but she’s never been confrontational”. Rhys counters that perhaps she was never given the chance, and perhaps she has been playing the role of sweet and innocent because that’s what everyone needed her to be. There IS a defiant nature to Elain’s personality, and there is a strong undercurrent of Hope within her, that guides her. We see that mostly in her hopes to thwart the mating bond with Lucien in order to be with Graysen. 

“So Elain silently cried, the tears so unending that I wondered if it was some sign of her heart bleeding out. Some sliver of hope that had shattered today. That Grayson would still love her--still marry her, and that love would trump even a mating bond.

A final tether had been snapped - to her life in the human lands”

We see her, time and again, ignore Feyre’s protestations that she “at least be nice to (Lucy)” whenever he gives her a present, or is even in her presence -- and Elain’s response is that it DOES NOT entitle him to her, in any way. Not only him being nice and giving her gifts, but the cauldron essentially tying them together DOES NOT entitle Lucy to her, in her eyes. 

Elain and Azriel

So, what does this have to do with Elriel? 

As far as we know, “a final tether had been snapped” and Elain lost some sliver of hope that love would trump a mating bond, because it did not with Graysen. I’ve said before that I think this foreshadows Elain’s arc being that love will indeed trump her mating bond, and that love will be with the person who truly sees her. However, I don’t think she’s there yet in her journey. We haven’t even heard her POV of how she feels, how she’s struggling, where her feelings are, what she wants to do with her life at this point, if she has dreams of traveling, etc etc. And I think that’s because of this... 

From Silver Flames, per Cassian: 

“Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long sleeved modest gown leached brightness from her face. It wore her rather than the other way around. ... but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court… It sucked the life from her.

When I first read this, I thought it foreshadowed that Elain would find her place in another court. Given the theme running through all of this, and that the “medicine” of the Night Court, as seen in the tapestry, is mastering Void in order to weave Hope through it and find Truth of self within.... this passage shows us that she is being completely devoured by Void without any hope helping her out of it. She’s INSISTING (again, that defiance) that she IS a part of the Night Court, but Cassian doesn’t believe it. This speaks to what is going on inside Elain’s soul. Something within her has broken, and she needs to find herself or come back into herself. 

“I call it Hope. I made it after I mastered Void”

Elain needs to master that grief within herself in order to have that hope again. She has lost a lot - her human life, her fiance, her father, her close relationship to Nesta, any friends she might have had in the human world that we don’t even know about, her house. She was reborn as a High Fae with seeress abilities, and everyone thought she was insane-- everyone except Azriel. 

Up until this point, the only people to really see Elain, and what she’s going through, and what she is capable of, are Azriel and Rhys (coincidentally, Rhysand also tells us that Azriel is the person MOST similar to himself). 

Feyre and Nesta had their mates standing by their side helping them through the darkness of their own traumas, until they found Hope and purpose and joy again. Who does Elain have, that can see deeply into her being and understand her? AZRIEL. 

Azriel who understands darkness, Azriel who survived the worst form of torture and, instead of giving into it, learned how to speak the language of shadows. 

 “If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair”

----

“Shadows different from anything my powers summoned, spoke to. Born in a lightless, airless prison meant to break him.

Instead he learned their language.”

Furthermore, what does Azriel’s lightless, airless prison sound like? What does Void sound like? What does that encroaching, all-encompassing darkness remind us of? 

The CAULDRON. 

WHICH ELAIN WAS SUBMERGED INTO. 

Where she experienced something we have NO idea of because she’s never been given the chance to voice that trauma to us. I don’t believe Elain’s connection to the Cauldron is over - I think she’ll have to encounter it again, and she’ll have to deal with that darkness in some form. And Azriel will be the one to help her out.  

Truth-Teller

The blade that Azriel has let nobody else touch, that he offered willingly to Elain.

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection… that knife. 

What do we know about Truth-Teller? I was under the impression, although I haven’t come across it in my reread yet (I haven’t reached Silver Flames) that Azriel had to earn Truth-Teller. It’s magic. It has never failed him. Descriptively:

“At his side, Truth-Tellers obsidian hilt seemed to absorb the first rays of the sun”

“Az ran a thumb down Truth Tellers black hilt, the silver runes on the dark scabbard shimmering in the light”

Truth-Teller is a mark of Azriel’s mastery of Void, of Darkness, of Grief, of the cruelties of the world and of fate. He has mastered it and even taught Rhys how to hope when the world tells you to despair. According to the tapestry of the Night Court, what is born out of the defiance of Hope? 

“I call it Hope. I made it after I mastered Void”

“..The impossible depth of blackness before me, the unlikely defiance of Hope shining through it, whispered the truth before I knew it”

Truth is born from Hope, which is born from mastery of Void (grief, pain, suffering, etc). All of this comes together in the blade, in Truth-Teller, which is a point of connection between Azriel and Elain. 

I still stand by my theory that Azriel is the shadow Elain stepped out of when she killed Hybern. Meaning, they did that together. That was not possible without him getting her to where she needed to be, and HER wielding Truth-Teller to save her sister. 

So my remaining theories boil down to this: 

is Truth-Teller, the blade that never fails and always strikes true, going to play a role in snapping the tether of the mating bond (or the fake mating bond, or whatever this is)?

will Azriel help get her where she needs to be, like Cassian and Rhysand helped Nesta and Feyre? 

will Elain be the one to wield Truth-Teller again? 

[deathbyoctopi]

The year is finished, so it is time to look back and go through the best AO3 treasures I found these last 12 months!! And since XueXiao has been the bane of my existence ever since i discovered it, I decided to make a top 10 list of them! 

So these are (in no particular order) my favourite (song)xuexiao fics:

- the backyard is full of bones by @veliseraptor  A thoroughly enjoyable what-if with Xiao Xingchen being a bit smarter about the wounded man he found. Extremely well paced and written, it eases into the enemies-to-lovers dynamic perfectly, and it depicts characters so believable and well-rounded that it practically feels like canon. 

- I promised you a garden by @lady-of-the-lotus  A short snippet into an alternate timeline where Song Lan’s consciousness is trapped in a paperman and forced to bear witness to the yizhuang’s (very sexy) domestic life. Cute and frustrating and very, very satisfying. (One of those where Song Lan’s not having a good time, which might be one of my favourite tags). 

- Now that I see you by @10holmes​  Don’t usually go with unfinished projects, but this one is an absolute treasure which’d need to work very hard to go awry, so of course I’ll have it here. We have a double canon divergence with Not Blind!Xiao Xingchen, and Amnesiac!Xue Yang!! Which make for a delightfully angsty relationship as they both tiptoe around each other, all while battling with internal turmoil, conflicting morals and a misplaced low sense of worth. A fic absolutely worth keeping track of. 

- The prisoner of Jinlintai by @fieri-sentio-et-excrucior  A rather recent project that had us in tethers for a month and a half (!) with the very sexy prompt of Xiao Xingchen being framed and arrested by the Jin, while a certain guest disciple with a sweet tooth was still around... Another enemies-to-lovers with a wonderfully natural evolution in their relationship, with the extra treat of a rich and entertaining world building that could easily sprout a few spin-offs. 

- Nothing but a way of shading blood by @veilchenjaeger​  This one is very recent, but it shoot up to my top 10 immediately, both for the marvelous writing style and the perfect way they executed the prompt. It provides just the right amount of anguish in Xiao Xingchen, before and after certain discoveries are made, and the diplomacy game with Jin Guangyao and his minion just adds an extra flavour in an already spicy mix. 

- Heaven has a road but no one walks it by @silvysartfulness​  The second (and last) ongoing project here, but just as deserving of the spot. This book-sized treasure is a long journey of (re)discovery, of a slowly kindling relationship with wonderful twists and turns. The slow pace balances out perfectly with some intense (and, in one occasion, thriller-like) action scenes. Also, it was the fic that made me see SongXueXiao with a more favourable opinion.  

- lie back and let me unlock you by @veliseraptor  A short and extremely sexy xuexiao roll in the hay, with the amazing prompt of Xiao Xingchen being (quite shamefully) aroused at the thought of his old enemy Xue Yang, and good ol’ Chengmei offering to rolplay. The result is even more unbelievable that what you can imagine! 

- On the topic of cold by @andreri25  A cute little snippet in the early days at Yi City, where Xiao Xingchen almost dies from hypothermia and Xue Yang has to keep him warm. So what if he takes advantatge? Daozhang won’t remember, and he does need some hot friction after all! It’s wicked and cute in equal parts, because Xue Yang starts off really concerned (even if he wouldn’t admit it or know why, really) but changes gears when the danger is over...

- Final victory by @fieri-sentio-et-excrucior​  A funny concept very well executed, particularly in the emotional response both Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang give at the different turns of the plot. Daozhang discovers that his old enemy is in town, killing people, and after recovering from the surprise, Chengmei offers his help to hunt him down. Cue some well-placed deceit and a cruelly cute happy ending. 

- it hurts at first (but it ain’t that bad) by @veliseraptor  Yet another change in dynamics with Xiao Xingchen discovering his mysterious friend’s identity, if only this time because Xue Yang flat-out tells him (well, he thought he was done for anyways). What follows is a wonderful deluge of arguments, moral dilemmas and Xue Yang’s particular brand of twisted social logic that allow a deeper (and less deadly) reprise of their last canon conversation. Just lovely. 

Which one of those I like best? I don’t know. I don’t care! They are all fantastic. 

AND, since this year was also the first I started actually writing some original content, and not only devouring other artists amazing works, lemme put them here as well >w<

- Phantom Threat  The foregone conclusion of all the fix-its that have xuexiao become an item (sans hidden identities, that is), in which Song Lan arrives at Yi City and does what he should have done in canon and talks directly with Xiao Xingchen, to reveal the terrible secret... which he already knows about. 

- To carry a bit of yesterday  A small slice of life in the Three Year Bliss, where Xiao Xingchen wants a family portrait and despite being quite contrary to the idea, both a-Qing and Xue Yang end up complying. It has amazing art by @wrathyforest​, too!! ^-^

AND FINALLY, just a few non-xuexiao fics I also loved to the moon and back, but have little-to-no connection other than belonging to the mxtx universe. 

- You’re stuck with me by LikeAFlamingKiss_Consume  A delightful jadecest with dark!Lan Xichen (well, dark!Everyone and their mother, it’s a fucked up AU) and a reluctantly horny Lan Zhan. 

- Blood array by @giraffeter​  Though it could technically be a xuexiao fic, the actual fucking here is between Demonic Gremlin Team Extraordinaire! Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian, sooo... doesn’t count. The fic is entertaining, very sexy and their interaction is marvelous to follow! 

- Despite warning signs by @extrapenguin​  A surprisingly cute and light-hearted Xue Yang/Mo Xuanyu little treat, from their days as Jin disciples. A happier alternative reality for both of them, with fluff and smut in equal parts, which never fails to make me smile. 

- Qi Rong’s day off by @ahintofblue​  Too bad the only tgcf fic to make the cut is a very, very nsfw alternate outcome of the mausoleum scene from book 2, but what can I do? The writing’s so smooth and engaging, it’s rough and cruel and I loved every single minute of it. 

I have the gnawing feeling I’m still forgetting something, either here or in the xuexiao part... but until I discover the way to check which fics I left kudos in, I either go through an ocean of titles from my ao3 history page (that won’t even let me filter!!!) or I just wait for my two braincells to click one day. Oh, well!

Thanks for reading, and to all writers, THANKS FOR WRITING!!! I love you all. Have a happy new year!

[caps1gal]

Here's some Stucky to pair with Hands Of Gold by Peter Hollens

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes Mild Body dysmorphia and panic attacks

The wintery air kicked up in a sudden gust causing snow to billow around them. Turning with an affectionate smile Steve asked, “How bout something to warm us up?” nodding to the coffee shop glittering with festive lights.

Reaching behind himself he took Bucky’s cold metal hand in his. He pulled enthusiastically towards the shop even as a little gasp escaped those perfect lips.

Bucky withdrew his hand, “Grabbed the wrong one, Doll?” he tried to tease.

Steve turned to meet his gaze, his own softened. Retaking the hand in his he placed light kisses on each of the knuckles, “Every bit of you is perfect, Sweetheart,” before cupping it to his cheek.

Pulling his hand away with more force than he intended causing Steve to lurch forward.

“I thought you wanted something warm to drink?” he mumbled ushering his boyfriend into the warm shop, pointedly ignoring the wounded look on Steve’s face, “C’mon Punk.”

Bucky had pretended the silence that spun out between them didn’t bother him. The whole walk home Steve only sipped his coffee. Both hands were wrapped around the paper cup. It was actually kind of cute his too big hands holding the cup like a child afraid of spilling. Bucky sipped his own coffee, the shopping bags between them in his other hand.

Inside their Brownstone they shook the snow off their coats, the silence still heavy and Bucky refused to be the one to break it. Observing the furrowed blond brows, he knew Steve was set on being stubborn. Instead, he carried the grocery bags into the kitchen.

Steve put away the cold stuff surveying the fridge before giving a sharp nod, “You okay with leftovers?”

Blinking because he had expected the silent treatment to draw out for much longer. Finally, he just gave a shrug, “Fine by me.”

“Well, there’s plenty in there to heat up. I’ll be in my studio,” the blonde said absently. His lips had been pressed into a tight line; blue eyes stormy as he disappeared into the small room. The record player started up moments later.

With an exasperated sigh Bucky put away the remaining groceries cabinet doors closing harder than was absolutely necessary. Instead of eating he changed and made his way down to the gym they had set up.  He turned on the screen over a treadmill that showed nature scenes as he began to jog. Setting a fast uphill pace he allowed himself to drift.

Even after Bucky had showered and gotten himself ready for bed, Steve still hadn’t emerged from his art space.

“Dammit,” he muttered absently rubbing at his forehead.

Neither of them was really fond of the cold, for different reasons. Bucky remembered Steve getting pneumonia when the apartment could not be properly heated. Bucky’s arm lacking warmth was something he had made peace with, but it wasn’t fair to Steve. Sweet as he was, he would soldier through the most uncomfortable things just to appease others.  He was always so perfect, and kind compared to Bucky and….

He realized he was spiraling nearly helpless to stop its downward pull, but he wasn’t alone. He could call out and his boyfriend would come tether him once more. If he didn’t call out that would be even worse for Steve.

“Steve?” it came out loud and panicky. Footfalls rushing to his side he blurted out, “Doll, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Buck? Oh Sweetheart.” Warm hands cupped his face as the mattress dipped, “It’s alright Baby.”

Steve pulled him close murmuring soothing words into his ear as he ran his fingers through the short hair.

He had cut it in an attempt to look more like Steve’s Bucky. Desperately he wanted to be the man Steve remembered, “I can’t…” he pressed his face into the corded neck breathing in that calming scent.

“Shhh, it’s okay Sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to.”

A deep breath shuddered in and out of him, “I can’t be warm for you. I’ll never be the man you remember.”

A few beats passed and he knew Steve was thinking. He could almost hear those wheels turning in that beautifully strategic mind.

“Idiot,” Steve cursed under his breath. Bucky knew by the tone Steve was talking to himself.

Pulling away to look Bucky in the eye, willing him to see the truth of the words with every fiber of his being, “I love you all of you. I’m just terrible at making you see that. Hell, you got yourself one dumb fella.”

Smiling a little at the guilty look in Steve’s eyes Bucky pressed a quick peck to his lips.

“Nah. He’s the cat’s meow downright ginchy and always has been,” he countered.

The dusting of pink that feathered across the blonde’s cheek had Bucky’s heart practically stopping in his chest. It made sense to him that Steve was an artist because he was a work of art himself and nothing would sway James Buchanan Barnes opinion on that.

Leaning in Steve pressed their lips together in a firm but chaste kiss. The heat of it a brand, a promise, “Can I show you something?” easing off the bed he offered his hand. A brilliant smile stole across his face as cool metal fingers intwined with his.

In the cramped studio Billie Holiday crooned softly while Steve placed his sketch book into Bucky’s hands. In it were drawings of him, his arm patterned with beautifully delicate designs of gold, silver blues, and reds. Each one had a gold or silver band painted onto the ring finger.

“You’re gorgeous to me,” he admitted quietly, “The same way I was to you when I was nothing but ninety-three pounds of asthma and ailments. You’re my Sweetheart and every part of you is beautiful to me because it’s all you.”

Bucky looked into the bright blue eyes allowing himself to be swallowed by the wave of unfailing love in them. Carefully he set the book down while pulling the love of his life into a firm embrace, “You’ve always been perfect to me, Stevie.”

Swallowing nervously, “I love you; Bucky and I promise to always be with you till the end of the line. I wanted to ask you proper before I showed you those, but I guess you know where my heads at now.”

Kissing away the nervous clench of Steve’s jaw, he whispered, “I’ve always been yours, Doll. And what was done to me means I’ve lived to see a world where we don’t have to hide it.”

Swaying a little to the music forehead pressed to the love of his life, “We’re right where we were always meant to be.”

[her-devils-advocate]

Don’t go where I cannot follow

♥. Genre: Slight angst, hurt/comfort

♥. pairings: Nate Sewell / Female Detective (Named)

♥. content warnings: Mentions of violence, hospital setting

♥. notes: Valerie will always follow her heart, leading her straight to Nate, protecting him whenever she can. Sometimes for the worst.

Thank you to my lovely friend @/eveningstar1516 for helping me with some of the different tenses. Especially during the nights where my brain just didn't want to work!

@agentnatesewell - You mentioned that you wouldn't mind being tagged for this during my WIP Wednesday post! I hope you don't mind still! (I hope its as fun to read as the WIP made it seem!)

♥. Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47899840

♥. Word count: 2059

A steady beeping echoes throughout the bright room, bouncing off the pure white walls onto the pristine linoleum flooring. The bright, fluorescence lights glare down at the figures within the room, highlighting the thick atmosphere surrounding them.

A figure lies still within the bed, the scratchy, thin covers carefully pulled up to her shoulders, rising and falling alongside her shallow yet steady breaths. The figure beside her sits slumped over the bed, resting his head against the less than soft mattress, his hand holding hers tightly -even in sleep. Too afraid to let go, as if he would lose her if he did.

They had been like this for a while, ever since Valerie had -once again- been rushed to the agency's medical wing. Nate was glued to her side the entire time, refusing to let her out of his sight as she whimpered with each small movement. 

His larger hands drew circles on her much smaller ones, anything to help distract her from the injections that had been given by Elidor. Circles turn into pictures before becoming small messages and "I love you's" with each increased heartbeat, worsened as the needles dug up painful memories and reminders before they had the chance to help her.

Their mission had been going well, a simple patrol that rapidly turned into an incident with a rogue supernatural. Something that should have been normal for them by now, if not for the way the supernatural went to attack Nate, the sharpened blade glinting dangerously in the night.

Only for Valerie to put herself in front of him, moving before he even had the chance to realise what was happening. 

He hates himself for reacting slowly. For reacting slower than their detective, who he loves more than anything and would happily give his life to protect, not expecting her to do the same.

What should have been a simple and routine mission had almost become the worst night of his life in the blink of an eye. He watched in horror as she froze on the spot, a pale hand placed over the rapidly growing crimson stain against her jumper, infecting the air with the sickeningly tempting smell of her blood.

She didn’t scream or cry. She simply reached out to him, stumbling slightly before her legs gave out, falling into his frenzied arms with a gasp.

The metallic scent flowed through the air, growing scarily stronger with each shuddered breath that escaped her, a guiding beacon for all those who dared to approach the scene. The cold moon stared down at them, causing the blood to glimmer in its dim light. Nate grit his teeth, the scent tempted his fangs with the sweet offer before him, an offer he feared he might have to take to save her…if not in that moment, one day. But could he?

What scared him more in that moment? The fact that he could lose her so soon, that what they had could end before it even had the chance to fully bloom? Or the fact that he considered giving into such temptations for her, that he would do anything, even reach the ends of the world for her?

He stared down at her, trying to blink away the tears that had gathered within his eyes. Valerie is stiff in his arms, her hands latched onto his bicep as if it were her only tether to this world, the fear that she might drift away should she let go overwhelmed her as the shock sunk deep into her system. Her eyes clenched shut as her body shook uncontrollably in his embrace.

She tried to speak, only for the words to get caught on the tip of her tongue, they rolled off and became sobs instead as he pressed shaking hands onto the wound -doing his best to stem the flow of her blood. His heart broke at the sound the action drew out of her, a weakly shuddered wheeze that would haunt his dreams.

He shook his head, gathering what little sense he had left to scream for help. His voice cracked with each word as he shouted for Adam to phone the agency now. Not caring about who else might have heard his wails, knowing his broken voice would reach Adam from his assigned location nearby. He didn’t trust his shaking hands to comply with his lack of technological skill to make the call himself.

He gently cradled her as tears painted his cheeks, slowing their descent as they reached the stubble lining his jaw before falling to the ground. He painstakingly counted each passing second until the medics arrived to rush her away, leaving him behind to wish upon every star that stared down at him.

Jade eyes slowly open, squinting accusingly at the harsh lights above, as if it was the cause of the pain tearing through her torso. She lets out a small groan as she tries to sit up, only to feel a strong hand hold her steady. Nate, having woken the moment he felt her stir, now stands beside her. 

His presence helps quell the rise of anxiety that simmers within her, Valerie had never been a huge fan of hospital rooms since the incident with Murphy, the fear hissing inside of her -almost as if it were a skittish animal- as she notices the IV within her hand. The needle within her hand. 

It takes her a moment to remember why she was in a hospital in the first place. More fear begins to flow through her as the haze in her mind clears, now audible to even non-supernatural beings thanks to the persistent beeping of the monitor beside her.

She glances up at Nate, noticing that his hair is dishevelled, more than she's ever seen it be, which is certainly not a good sign. Silky brown strands have fallen out of the neat bun he had used to tie it back, the signs of his distress clear as he runs his other hand through his hair, an action he must have done a dozen times by now.

As her vision adapts to the brightness of the room, she can see the way his cheeks glisten under the light. She can feel the way the hand on her shoulder shakes. She can feel the warmth his hand had left in hers before she had awakened. 

“Nate…?” Valerie’s quiet voice breaks him out of his panicked trance as his head snaps to hers, anguish and terror within his eyes as he sits down on the bed beside her, doing his best to be as gentle as possible.

“You really scared me there, ya rouhi. I thought that I had lost you, we came very close. Too close. If those medics had been a moment late…” He takes her weak hand within his, lifting it to place a tender kiss on her palm, sighing as she caresses his cheek. “Thank you for protecting me. But please don’t go where I cannot stand by your side, I don’t think I could withstand that. I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

He moves to wipe away the tears that she didn’t even notice running down her cheeks, tucking her hair behind her ear as he does.

“You’re not angry with me?” Her voice shakes with each word and she can’t tell if it's from nerves, the pain, or from the medication they have given her.

Nate sighs deeply, a frustrated sound that she has never heard from him before. She’s not certain if he’s frustrated with her or with himself. She’s not certain which she would prefer.

He twirls one of her inky black locks around his fingers as he considers her words carefully, mentally pulling apart each feeling that had rushed through him within the past 24 hours. Feelings that had left him numb until she had awoken, as if a part of him laid dormant with her unconscious state. A part of him that would sleep with her forever, should that day come.

“No, I’m not angry. I will admit that I was at first, when all I could do was sit here and watch you sleep, hoping that you would soon return to me…That you weren’t going to die for me. But it wouldn’t be fair to be angry at you when I would have done the exact same thing to save you. I also didn’t want anger to be the last emotion that I got to experience with you. Just promise me that you won’t do that again, please Val.”

“I promise. I’m sorry for worrying you, I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you,” she gives him a watery giggle, a giggle that transforms into a shy smile as he raises a neat eyebrow at her- urging her to continue, “we really make quite the pair, don’t we? Constantly worried for the other, to the point of ignoring our own safety and how it would affect those around us.” At that, he chuckles along with her, the action feeling oddly surreal after the events that had just transpired. The jovial mood feels out of place, yet equally welcome, as their two hearts finally settle into a steady rhythm. 

“I cannot deny that. As Felix likes to remind us at any given moment, we really are made for one another.”

“Speaking of him, are the others here or is it just you? Not that I don’t want you here or anything! I’m glad that you were the first face I saw after what happened, I was just wondering if…you know…” Nate shakes his head, the action part affectionate and part exasperated as he props up a pillow behind her, helping her slowly sit up and lean against the headboard, wincing at the small hiss that she tries to hold back.

“Of course they are here, Val. They have been just as worried as I have. You are a part of this family and they care for you greatly. Rebecca is also waiting outside with them as well. They all refuse to leave until they have seen that you are alright with their own eyes.”

If he notices the surprise that flashes across her face, too quickly for her to restrain, he doesn’t mention it. Instead he simply guides her eyes to the other side of the small medical room, in the direction of the huge pile of gifts that had been left for her as she slept. Multiple get well soon cards litter the once empty surfaces, each paired with a selection of chocolates and numerous small animal plushies. How she has received that many while she slept, she will never understand.

The sight causes Valerie’s heart to flutter, what had previously been hard for her to believe now screams out at her as its meaning slowly sinks in. Her mother actually visiting her in the hospital, a family to call her own and a lover who adores her with his whole heart and more.

The thought provokes more tears to escape, rolling down her cheeks despite the calm expression on her face as she laces her fingers through his own. “I bet mum wasn’t too happy when she heard the news.”

Nate smiles sympathetically at her, knowing the upcoming conversation between mother and daughter could go one of two ways, despite the love between them.

“...I can’t say that she was. She was terrified when she found out, I don’t think any of us have seen her quite like that, not until we began working with you. You know that she loves you, you are her daughter so of course the news would affect her.” His sympathetic smile shifts into a mischievous smirk, causing a mixture of butterflies and concern to swim within Val. “But I’m sure the lecture that Adam has prepared for after your conversation with Rebecca will take your mind off that.”

He’s not too sure if he should be guilty or amused as her loud groan reaches his ears, even more so should she find out that Nate had helped Adam with the lecture itself, wanting to make sure this never has a chance to happen again. He stifles a small laugh as he wraps one of his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a comforting side hug on the bed.

[muutos]

I BET YOU'D STICK YOUR HEAD IN A FIRE IF I TOLD YA' YOU COULD SEE HELL.. meanwhile, you're too stupid to realize you got a demon stickin' out your ass singing, "HOLY MISS MOLEY, GOT ME A LIVE ONE!"

he's out of the game files. the company shuts down yet again due to jeremy's death, & the corruption of the code and glitchtrap goes between you and his plush containment when necessary. however, you were ready. he's strong but diminished slightly. will grow, but you have time to adapt and develop blocks. you continue to present yourself as the sweet, reluctant little follower. the wide eyed, eager to please little vanny that is under his thumb. making sure you can keep as much of what he doesn't need to know, out of his line of sight. if he knew what was going on, he'd have thrown you away. but you cannot have that. he wins you over. becoming a cult of one, he convinces you you're special and beautiful. he's manipulating you right back. a dance of the twisted, and of two kindred souls.

YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF DRY SPELL I'VE HAD HERE.. total block, total block! BUT BILL? he's okay.

fazbear entertainment, the stain. the wash. you are able to swipe it cheap at an auction with his guidance, and now through you - afton has control of his operation again. he needs you. you are his savior. you are what tethers his plans together... through his possession of you, you've gained skills and proficiency in engineering. you purchase a cheap warehouse using assets and royalty money, and start-up the fazbear funtime service. that which rents out animatronics to birthday parties and other events. it's all to raise money for the mall. you build base animatronics with whatever money you have, and make the skins to cheapen the operation and increase profit. it works, and you also use it to collect remnant as you had previously known he'd conducted through circus baby's rentals, in the past. you collect it, and store it and help afton conduct experiments on metal. minor ones. nothing compared to what would come later. he lives his fantasies through your hands, through your eyes. forces you to be present. to learn from it. to love it. new victims with new life. you've been waiting... you're ready. meanwhile you collect and scam those who send in salvages to gather parts for aftons suit. everything is coming along.

PLEASE BE QUIET, I DON'T WANNA SLIP. OK, one more. you get this right, i'll let ya go. If you get it wrong you are fucked! OK, WHO'S MY FAVORITE MOVIE STAR

you can finally buy the property on the sight of the old pizzeria, that contains his body. finally, since fazbear's fright... you see him for the first time. you're taken by his flesh. actually seeing and being a part of him... the real him. the man who had existed so long ago. it was intimate for you... as was his tutelage. luring, harvesting and killing nine children once the mall opens, while you let his glitch loose in the pizzaplex. posing as a security night guard, a-la undercover boss. he hides your records, replaces you with a fake name and you operate behind the scenes. of course, it takes a while for them to have to strength to excavate down there. it wouldn't be unearthed until the pizzaplex was nearing completion, and freddy fazbear was constructed. patient, until afton was inside all of the animatronics. able to possess strength for you. you are weak, he's told you. he has no strength to give, in his current state. you begin to use freddy to dig you down to the pizzeria, and that's when you set to work. however throughout the final weeks of construction, you begin to have aspirations too big for your bones. you build shrines to the family he should have with you. you understand him. you love him. you begin to rebuild his family for him, mistaking his wants and needs. you made his son. you rebuild evan afton anew! but you use your blocks to hide him. all a surprise. gregory knows who he is, and he's excited. but something happens.

I'm the one who brings the christmas candy. [...] I'M THE ONE WHO BRINGS THE DEVIL'S BRANDY. [...] I'm the one who beats you when you're bad... [...] AND I'M THE ONE WHO LOVES YOU WHEN YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!

you've weeks prior began to take springtrap out for test-runs, with afton's consciousness now shared between you and the electronics. the robots. the pizzaplex has been open for a while, and generating wonderful revenue. it seems the brand's loyalty is refurbished! you've done it. you've brought glory back to his name. and you'll bring him all of that and more. even continuing to collect remnant through the funtime service. you even suggest for afton to work the alligator, aggression and the like already built-in with bot's jealousy. you lead monty to bonnie bowl. and you start monitoring everything as officer vanessa, the night guard. his updated claws giving him the ability to do some tinkering himself, though he still primarily uses her due to the need for his collecting power. infusing himself with remnant as he gains his strength, that you collect. luring children to your secret hide-outs throughout the mall. (one of which he doesn't know about, being the room from fnaf 4). this allows afton his access to you and your abilities to fix his suit, while by the time the pizzaplex is open his glitch is infecting every inch of the systems. her charade means that she has to go to mandated therapy, something that's always been mandatory since henry stole the place from william. something it would look fishy if you didn't implement. but william is present with you during these sessions, as i explain in other posts.

THERE ONCE WAS A WOMAN who lived with her daughter in a cabbage garden; ALONG CAME A RABBIT AND ATE UP ALL THE CABBAGES; the woman said, "Go into the garden and drive out the rabbit. "SHOO-SHOO" SAID THE MAIDEN !

that night on stage gregory had seen the show. their electromagnetic waves interfered with one another, in an anomaly that you can not explain. he and freddy both malfunctioned, and gregory forgot his memories. scared, he retreated and as a result you and afton lost your control over the bear. your most needed asset, and the one who could ruin everything for you. and afton... he's slowly built a relationship with you, he knows you want. sending you flowers, and chocolates from your own login... your journals are filled with your conversations, and he whispers sweet nothings of sadistic manipulation... but he's dependent on you and you know it. he's none too pleased, you must tell him what you've done. his anger rising above you, you must be the one to find him. he sets his control to all four corners of the pizzaplex with his best little bunny on the case. the clock is ticking to try and stop gregory and freddy before it's too late. you cannot lose everything now. you can't.

WHATEVER YOU NEED TO DO, YOU DO IT! there is no wrong. If someone needs to be killed, you kill 'em. THAT'S THE WAY.

PART ONE / OF TWO

[vallssafanoria]

2022 Fic Rec Time!!!

The year is finished, so it is time to look back and go through the best AO3 treasures I found these last 12 months!! And since XueXiao has been the bane of my existence ever since i discovered it, I decided to make a top 10 list of them!

So these are (in no particular order) my favourite (song)xuexiao fics:

- the backyard is full of bones by @veliseraptor A thoroughly enjoyable what-if with Xiao Xingchen being a bit smarter about the wounded man he found. Extremely well paced and written, it eases into the enemies-to-lovers dynamic perfectly, and it depicts characters so believable and well-rounded that it practically feels like canon.

- I promised you a garden by @lady-of-the-lotus  A short snippet into an alternate timeline where Song Lan’s consciousness is trapped in a paperman and forced to bear witness to the yizhuang’s (very sexy) domestic life. Cute and frustrating and very, very satisfying. (One of those where Song Lan’s not having a good time, which might be one of my favourite tags).

- Now that I see you by @10holmes​ Don’t usually go with unfinished projects, but this one is an absolute treasure which’d need to work very hard to go awry, so of course I’ll have it here. We have a double canon divergence with Not Blind!Xiao Xingchen, and Amnesiac!Xue Yang!! Which make for a delightfully angsty relationship as they both tiptoe around each other, all while battling with internal turmoil, conflicting morals and a misplaced low sense of worth. A fic absolutely worth keeping track of.

- The prisoner of Jinlintai by @fieri-sentio-et-excrucior  A rather recent project that had us in tethers for a month and a half (!) with the very sexy prompt of Xiao Xingchen being framed and arrested by the Jin, while a certain guest disciple with a sweet tooth was still around... Another enemies-to-lovers with a wonderfully natural evolution in their relationship, with the extra treat of a rich and entertaining world building that could easily sprout a few spin-offs.

- Nothing but a way of shading blood by @veilchenjaeger​  This one is very recent, but it shoot up to my top 10 immediately, both for the marvelous writing style and the perfect way they executed the prompt. It provides just the right amount of anguish in Xiao Xingchen, before and after certain discoveries are made, and the diplomacy game with Jin Guangyao and his minion just adds an extra flavour in an already spicy mix.

- Heaven has a road but no one walks it by @silvysartfulness​  The second (and last) ongoing project here, but just as deserving of the spot. This book-sized treasure is a long journey of (re)discovery, of a slowly kindling relationship with wonderful twists and turns. The slow pace balances out perfectly with some intense (and, in one occasion, thriller-like) action scenes. Also, it was the fic that made me see SongXueXiao with a more favourable opinion.  

- lie back and let me unlock you by @veliseraptor  A short and extremely sexy xuexiao roll in the hay, with the amazing prompt of Xiao Xingchen being (quite shamefully) aroused at the thought of his old enemy Xue Yang, and good ol’ Chengmei offering to rolplay. The result is even more unbelievable that what you can imagine!

- On the topic of cold by @andreri25  A cute little snippet in the early days at Yi City, where Xiao Xingchen almost dies from hypothermia and Xue Yang has to keep him warm. So what if he takes advantatge? Daozhang won’t remember, and he does need some hot friction after all! It’s wicked and cute in equal parts, because Xue Yang starts off really concerned (even if he wouldn’t admit it or know why, really) but changes gears when the danger is over...

- Final victory by @fieri-sentio-et-excrucior​  A funny concept very well executed, particularly in the emotional response both Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang give at the different turns of the plot. Daozhang discovers that his old enemy is in town, killing people, and after recovering from the surprise, Chengmei offers his help to hunt him down. Cue some well-placed deceit and a cruelly cute happy ending.

- it hurts at first (but it ain’t that bad) by @veliseraptor Yet another change in dynamics with Xiao Xingchen discovering his mysterious friend’s identity, if only this time because Xue Yang flat-out tells him (well, he thought he was done for anyways). What follows is a wonderful deluge of arguments, moral dilemmas and Xue Yang’s particular brand of twisted social logic that allow a deeper (and less deadly) reprise of their last canon conversation. Just lovely.

Which one of those I like best? I don’t know. I don’t care! They are all fantastic.

AND, since this year was also the first I started actually writing some original content, and not only devouring other artists amazing works, lemme put them here as well >w<

- Phantom Threat The foregone conclusion of all the fix-its that have xuexiao become an item (sans hidden identities, that is), in which Song Lan arrives at Yi City and does what he should have done in canon and talks directly with Xiao Xingchen, to reveal the terrible secret... which he already knows about.

- To carry a bit of yesterday A small slice of life in the Three Year Bliss, where Xiao Xingchen wants a family portrait and despite being quite contrary to the idea, both a-Qing and Xue Yang end up complying. It has amazing art by @wrathyforest​, too!! ^-^

AND FINALLY, just a few non-xuexiao fics I also loved to the moon and back, but have little-to-no connection other than belonging to the mxtx universe.

- You’re stuck with me by LikeAFlamingKiss_Consume  A delightful jadecest with dark!Lan Xichen (well, dark!Everyone and their mother, it’s a fucked up AU) and a reluctantly horny Lan Zhan.

- Blood array by @giraffeter​  Though it could technically be a xuexiao fic, the actual fucking here is between Demonic Gremlin Team Extraordinaire! Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian, sooo... doesn’t count. The fic is entertaining, very sexy and their interaction is marvelous to follow!

- Despite warning signs by @extrapenguin​  A surprisingly cute and light-hearted Xue Yang/Mo Xuanyu little treat, from their days as Jin disciples. A happier alternative reality for both of them, with fluff and smut in equal parts, which never fails to make me smile.

- Qi Rong’s day off by @ahintofblue​  Too bad the only tgcf fic to make the cut is a very, very nsfw alternate outcome of the mausoleum scene from book 2, but what can I do? The writing’s so smooth and engaging, it’s rough and cruel and I loved every single minute of it.

I have the gnawing feeling I’m still forgetting something, either here or in the xuexiao part... but until I discover the way to check which fics I left kudos in, I either go through an ocean of titles from my ao3 history page (that won’t even let me filter!!!) or I just wait for my two braincells to click one day. Oh, well!

Thanks for reading, and to all writers, THANKS FOR WRITING!!! I love you all. Have a happy new year!

[clusterbuck]

how about 4 from the prompts list? "I'm here, aren't I?"

okay fun fact when i sat down to fill this prompt and turned my spotify on shuffle the first song to come up was i'm here by sweet talk radio so like... that's appropriate lmao

thanks for the prompt!!

"i'm here, aren't i?" buck mutters under his breath. "stop looking at me like that! it's rush hour on a friday, i did the best i could with the traffic conditions i had."

"i know, i know," eddie whispers next to him. "i'm not mad at, you, i just—" he cuts himself off and sighs. "i was going to talk to you about something before we went in."

"why am i here, anyway?" buck asks, looking around at all of the parents and teachers milling around the foyer of christopher's school. "i mean, you know i don't mind, but you made it sound really—"

he's interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice, somewhere on eddie's other side. "mr diaz, there you are! and this must be the husband."

buck whirls to look at eddie, because—if eddie has a husband, this is the first he's hearing of it.

please, eddie's expression seems to say, desperate and cornered and a little hopeful. and buck's never been able to deny him anything.

he's always been quick on the uptake, and even if he wasn't, eddie's arm sliding around his waist would probably make the pieces slip into place. so he schools his features into his best approximation of what a husband probably looks like and turns to face the woman next to eddie.

she's bright and bubbly, the platonic ideal of a suburban california soccer mom. she holds out a hand, and buck grins as he shakes it. "that's me," he confirms.

"and are you mr diaz as well?" she asks, and buck breathes an internal sigh of relief when she doesn't add anything along the lines of i don't really know how it works with you people.

"buckley, actually," he tells her. "buck." then he drops his voice and leans in like he's sharing a secret. "makes it easier at work, you know, so our captain knows who he's talking to."

she laughs, and eddie squeezes his hip. "i've heard a lot about you," she says with a smile. then she inclines her head at eddie. "he won't shut up about you, actually."

buck grins. "is that so?" he asks, turning to look at eddie.

eddie rolls his eyes. "i talk about you a normal amount," he says. "don't go getting an ego about this."

the woman introduces herself as somebody's mother. next to him, eddie falls into an easy conversation about math homework and the upcoming science fair, but buck is only half-listening. he's mostly preoccupied by the fact that eddie, apparently, goes around telling people that they're married. which is definitely news to him.

he's also more than a little preoccupied by the warm weight of eddie's arm resting around his waist, and the casual way eddie's hand curls around his hip like it belongs there. before he can think better of it, buck leans further into eddie's embrace, and eddie adjusts his grip mid-sentence like this is something they do every day and not something out of buck's wildest daydreams.

eventually, the woman excuses herself to go and find some teacher or the other.

"husband, huh?" buck asks. "that's funny, i don't remember you proposing. or, you know, asking me out."

as he speaks, eddie detaches himself from buck. when buck turns to look, eddie is already wearing a guilty expression.

eddie sighs. "i was going to tell you," he says. "that's what i wanted to talk to you about before we came in."

"i mean, yeah, knowing ahead of time that i'm supposed to be acting like your husband would have made life a little easier," buck says. "also, uh, why am i supposed to be acting like your husband, again?"

eddie looks away, squirrely in the way buck knows he only gets when he's embarrassed. "there was a teacher a while back," he says. "she kept, uh, hitting on me? so i panicked and said i was married."

"okay, so, why me?" buck asks, and wonders if eddie can hear the unspoken question. why are you pretending to be married to a man? eddie's never given any indication that he's anything other than straight. it's the biggest reason buck has him firmly mentally labelled as never going to happen, buckley, you might as well stop dreaming about it.

it hasn't worked so far, but repetition is key.

"i guess christopher talks about you a lot," eddie says. "she asked if it was you, and it seemed easier to say yes than to invent some kind of fictional spouse that i'd have to remember details about."

"romantic," buck says, and eddie laughs and elbows him.

"shut up."

"so why didn't you just tell me?" buck asks.

"i was going to, if you'd been here when you said you would!"

"hey, it's not my fault the 146 didn't manage their pile-up scene properly and traffic backed up!" buck says. "besides, you could also have told me at any other point in time between now and—how long have you been telling people this?"

"uh... six months, give or take," eddie says. "that's why it was so important you come tonight—i've been making excuses for you at school events, but the other parents have started to question it and i don't want them thinking my imaginary husband is a shitty person."

"clearly you have better taste than that," buck agrees.

eddie sighs again, but it's good-natured. "god, i should have known you'd be insufferable about this."

"and yet you picked me anyway," buck beams. "so why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"i was worried you'd think it's weird," eddie says. "and i really needed you to be here."

"mm, being addressed as your husband out of the blue was definitely less weird," buck says.

"so it didn't go exactly to plan," eddie says. "thanks for just rolling with it, by the way."

"of course," buck says. "i've got your back, remember?"

"somehow, i don't think this is what either of us envisioned back in that hospital parking lot," eddie laughs.

and it's true—buck had envisioned doing a lot of things with eddie, back in those first few days before he'd realised he didn't have a chance, but fake marriage was never one of them.

"so is there anything specific you need me to do?" buck asks, in an effort to distract himself from thoughts of the things he did envision.

"just—sell it, i guess?" eddie says. "i'm pretty sure i've only told people things about you that are true anyway, so there's no elaborate cover story or anything."

"except that we're married," buck says.

"except that we're married," eddie agrees. "for—about a year now, i think i've said?"

"a year, okay," buck repeats. "cool, i'm on it." then he steps closer to eddie again and slips his hand into eddie's back pocket.

"buck," eddie hisses. "what are you doing?"

"selling it," buck replies.

"where? in high school in the year 1987?" eddie asks, but he relaxes into buck's side.

"hey, no judging," buck says. "maybe this is my signature move."

"i mean, you do you," eddie says. buck doesn't argue, because he doesn't want to have to tell eddie that he's mostly doing it because this might be the only opportunity he ever gets to touch eddie's ass.

it's only as they set off to meet with the first of christopher's teachers that buck realises he might have miscalculated. because now his hand is on eddie's ass, and he's suddenly hyperaware of even the smallest twitch of his fingers. how much of it can eddie feel? is eddie going to think he's trying to make a move if he accidentally flexes his fingers a little?

it's not that he doesn't want to make a move. it's just that he doesn't think that eddie would be very receptive to it.

except eddie turns out to be a very affectionate fake husband. if buck's hand isn't in eddie's pocket then eddie is holding it. when they sit side-by-side listening to teachers talk about how smart christopher is, eddie's foot is hooked around buck's ankle. in the hallway between meetings, eddie turns to drop a kiss on buck's cheek, and a shiver radiates through him.

buck doesn't know what to make of it. he's used to a certain amount of physical contact from eddie—shoulders brushing together as they walk next to each other, working together so seamlessly their limbs might as well be extensions of each other on calls—but this feels different. it's not just that the touches are different—there's an ease to eddie's actions that makes buck wonder for the first time in years if maybe his mental label for eddie isn't quite as accurate after all.

he doesn't know how else to explain the fact that eddie keeps touching him. it's more than enough to sell their ruse—bordering on excessive, even, especially for a middle school parent-teacher conference.

and buck isn't exactly innocent himself, either. he wonders if a year into a fictional marriage is too far to claim honeymoon period, because that's the closest he can come to describing the feeling—like now that he has permission to touch eddie, the dam has broken and he can't keep his hands off.

they're still holding hands when they spill out of the school doors and into the dark warmth of the september evening. eddie makes no move to let go, and so neither does buck.

buck's jeep is clear across the other side of the parking lot, but he follows eddie to his truck anyway. they reach the car, and eddie brushes his lips against the corner of buck's mouth, closer than he has all night. buck freezes.

eddie pulls back, horror clear across his face. "i'm sorry," he says. "i didn't—i just—i forgot. that we're not inside anymore."

there's just enough wistfulness in his voice that buck makes a split-second decision. he takes a step forwards and takes eddie's face in his hands, stands still for two heartbeats just in case he's reading everything extremely wrong and eddie wants to protest, and then he's kissing eddie.

eddie kisses the way he does everything else, with a steadiness that keeps buck tethered to reality and a quiet intensity that bubbles just under the surface. it's a combination that's uniquely eddie, one that makes buck feel like he could take on the world and win and like he's coming home.

"i don't want it to be just inside," buck says, just in case eddie didn't get the message. "i don't want it to be fake. i mean, it might be a little soon to get married, but—"

"someday, though," eddie says, and buck laughs.

"someday, yeah."

eddie grins at him. "in the meantime, do you want to come home with me tonight?"

"yeah, i really do."

send me a starter line from this list and i'll write a ficlet for it!

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 15

A/N: well, the end is finally here. I’m not done with this lil au by any other means, there are some oneshots (like missing scenes from this story that I couldn’t get to flow with the rest of the fic) and some oneshots that take place before and after this story. there is also a nature wives sequel that I am contemplating. anyway, I just wanted to give a HUGE thank you to all the love this fic has gotten. when I set out to write this, I never imagined it getting this much love. I was writing this story mostly for myself, and this has been a work that I have never been more motivated to write, and that is largely due to the love that it has gotten. again, thank you so much. and I wrote this chapter while listening to Like Real People Do by Hozier on loop, I think it fits the mood of this chapter very well.

Warnings: pretty much nothing, just kissing and a ton of fluff

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

Quite some time had passed since that fateful day that Jimmy had saved Scott from the corruption. Jimmy still didn’t quite agree that his kiss was what had saved Scott in the end, he was sure Scott had something to do with it too- safe to say this was a common debate between the two. Debating was something that had not changed between them in the slightest. They still bickered, but it was lighthearted, more affectionate now. Their arguments, if they could even be called that, were filled with laughter that glittered like gold and grins that shimmered like bronze.

The defensive strategies that the new and improved House Blossom Alliance came up with helped a great deal- not that they really ended up needing it anyhow. Fwhip and Sausage kept to themselves most times these days. Both of them seemingly felt guilty about what had happened, even if they made no moves to try and repair the bond that had been broken. That stung more than some of the former Wither Rose Alliance members cared to admit. Pearl and Gem both wanted to see the best in Fwhip and Sausage, but even if either of them came crawling back for forgiveness, neither one was sure they would give it to them. And Scott wasn’t sure how he could handle even seeing one of them again.

Then there was the matter of the corruption. The containment box Gem had made seemed to be working enough, but every now and again one of them would spot a strange red plant growing from the ground, and would have to uproot it and add it to the box. Luckily nothing seemed to be spreading too far yet, and there was no sign of the “he” that the red Scott spoke of. Shelby seemed constantly on edge, and Jimmy caught Scott staring up at the statue of Aeor and asking for answers on more than one occasion. But Jimmy was confident that the containment would work, and since they beat it once, they could beat it again!

But it was silly to worry about those things, not on a momentous day like this. Jimmy adjusted the pale green bow-tie for about the millionth time, and fidgeted with the suit jacket, unused to the blinding white color of it. He wasn’t wearing his cod head- and he didn’t have a cod mask either- but the bronze scale-like pattern dotted here and there on the white suit was enough for Jimmy. Besides, for once, he wanted his head to be entirely visible today. However, upon Lizzie’s insistence, he did don a bronze-colored crown inlaid with emeralds.

“You ready?” Lizzie asked softly, holding out her arm to Jimmy. She had traded her dress with its blues of the Ocean Empire for one with the greens of the Cod Empire. Jimmy swallowed nervously and nodded with a smile, not trusting his voice to break. He took Lizzie’s arm, and the two of them walked out of the hallway and down the aisle of the new ceremony room of Katherine’s castle. Joel waited for them at the front, while all of Jimmy’s friends- Pixl, Katherine, Shelby, Pearl, and Gem- were sitting in the pews on either side of the aisle. Once they made it to the front of the ceremony room, Lizzie squeezed Jimmy’s arm encouragingly before taking her seat in the audience. Joel gave Jimmy a supportive smile, before the music began and both of them looked to the entrance of the ceremony room. Everyone rose from their seats- and in came Scott.

He was breathtaking. The dress he wore had white lace detailing, while the skirt itself was satin and had a layer of tulle over it, with more lace detailing at the hem. It was sleeveless, and must have been backless to make room for his wings. Gold jewelry adorned him, including the crown on his head, and in his hands he held a bouquet of blue orchids picked from Jimmy’s empire. Jimmy felt himself getting a bit misty-eyed, and couldn’t keep the adoring smile off of his face as Scott made his way down the aisle, finally coming to a stop to stand across from Jimmy. The bouquet was handed off to Joel, who set it down on the table behind him, but Jimmy was too busy gazing up at Scott, hardly able to believe that this day was happening.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Jimmy, the Codfather and ruler of the Cod Empire, and Scott, the winged elf ruler of Rivendell. Their love is one that was won through adversity, and may they always have each other through whatever trials they may have to face,” Joel said, then turned to retrieve the pillow that held the two rings on it from the table. Jimmy took one of the rings, the one that was gold with a sliver of bronze through it, and reached out for Scott’s hand.

“With this ring, I declare my love for you. No matter what you say I did to save you, I still believe that you are one of the strongest people I know. You are as imposing as the mountains you rule in, yet your smile is like morning sunlight and your laughter is glittering gold. My love for you is as steady and sure as the ground beneath me, and as strong as the ocean's currents. I could stumble, or get swept away- but I know you'll be there to save me, as you say I have saved you," Jimmy said, gazing at Scott as he slipped the ring onto his finger. Scott's eyes were glassy as he tried not to cry, smiling that sunshine smile that never failed to make Jimmy’s heart soar. Scott took a deep breath, then took the other ring- this one was bronze with a sliver of gold through it, the inverse of the one Scott now wore.

"In the red dreamscape you saved me from, the corruption made a comment about you and I. It said that you are an Icarus, and that I am your sun. But I think it's the other way around. Sure, you can certainly be an Icarus- ambitious and determined, but you are my sun, Jimmy- warm, radiant, and dazzling. If I am the mountains, then you are the sun that peeks over them. My heart soars for you like I do with my wings, I fly ever closer to catch the beams of light you give off- and I fell. I fell for you- sweet, brave, wonderful you- despite everything. So with this ring, I declare my love to you- my Icarus and my sun," Scott said, taking Jimmy’s hand and slipping the ring on his finger. Jimmy wiped at his eyes with his free hand before taking Scott’s other hand. He looked away from Scott for a brief moment to nod at Joel, before looking back to Scott. Joel turned again, setting down the pillow and trading it for two lengths of ribbon- one gold, and one bronze. An amused sparkle came to Scott’s eyes, and Jimmy gave him a look that said not-now-Scott-not-on-our-wedding-day when Joel began speaking as he looped the fabric around their wrists.

“May the threads of these ribbons never unravel, just as your love will not. May your bond stay strong and true, just as the ribbons that connect you now,” Joel said, removing his hands once he was done. The gold ribbon was looped around Scott’s right wrist, then under their clasped hands to wrap around Jimmy’s right wrist. The bronze ribbon was looped around Jimmy’s left wrist, then over their clasped hands to wrap around Scott’s left wrist.

“Guess you’re stuck with me now,” Scott murmured, voice low enough that only Jimmy and Joel could hear him. Jimmy let out a soft laugh, and Joel rolled his eyes fondly.

“Scott, do you take Jimmy to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?” Joel asked, looking to Scott.

“I do,” Scott said softly, all joking and teasing gone from his expression, leaving only unabashed adoration in its place.

“Jimmy, do you take Scott to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?” Joel asked, looking to Jimmy.

“I do,” Jimmy said, unable to keep himself from grinning widely, feeling like he would float to the ceiling if Scott wasn’t keeping him tethered.

“Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom,” Joel said, nodding to Scott. Jimmy barely got the chance to lean in before Scott tugged him closer by their clasped hands and kissed him softly. Jimmy couldn’t stop smiling into the kiss, and he let out a delighted laugh when they broke apart. Their friends were cheering and clapping, and Joel threw blue and green confetti over them, Jimmy giggling at the way it got caught in Scott’s hair. They slipped their hands out of the ribbons, carefully handing it over to Joel as he handed the blue orchid bouquet back to Scott. The two of them then walked arm-in-arm down the aisle, married.

-

Jimmy didn’t think he had stopped smiling since the ceremony started. He even kept smiling all throughout Lizzie’s speech full of embarrassing stories about Jimmy at the reception. He definitely smiled when Scott threw the bouquet, and Shelby enthusiastically leapt up and caught it- only to stumble back into Katherine’s arms when she landed. The rest of the night, the two of them kept exchanging sheepish glances and Shelby held the bouquet close to her chest for most of the evening. Jimmy couldn’t even bring himself to be mad that someone else seemed to be finding love at their wedding.

Jimmy’s smile finally settled to something softer as he and Scott shared their first dance as a married couple. He could feel the other’s eyes on them, but that quickly faded to the background as the way Scott held him and gazed down at him captured all of his attention. Jimmy couldn’t stop stealing glances to their matching rings, heart fluttering at the reminder that they were husbands now. If you had told Jimmy at that first House Blossom Alliance meeting that he would end up married to the winged elf that badgered him into picking a fight, he would have never believed you. In fact, if you had told Jimmy anything about what was going to happen to him and Scott, he would have called you crazy. Yet here he was, dancing with someone he once swore he hated, with the man who he had been to hell and back with. And Jimmy wouldn’t have had it any other way.

-

Taglists below! Ask if you want to be added/removed (I will be keeping the aiahs taglist for any future parts of this universe)!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh 

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[semischarmed]

Mine

Many coaches have come and taught the many iterations of our university team. Over the years, these coaches, like players, come and go. Good ones are hard to come by. Great ones are once in a lifetime. That was our Coach James.

He had a fatherly quality to him. There was a warmth in his training, a brightness when he would teach us. When we succeeded, he helped bring us up further and when we failed he softened the blow with his wisdom. Coach was great like that. Strictly professional, of course, but with a layer of genuine friendliness and a desire to watch us all succeed. He really was the perfect coach and we were blessed to have him. Still, in my lust, in my pure selfishness, I knew I had to have him- all of him to me and me alone. One long summer day, I ask for some one-on-one training. Never one to turn down a teaching opportunity, he complies. Like I said, he was a great coach.

I decide this would be the day. I run, but not too well. I throw, but haphazardly. That’s all it took for him to lean in. That’s all it took to get him close. Of course, he came with pure intentions- I did not. 

When he is right above me, when I feel the vibration in the air from his chest, when I feel his raw power and vitality. That is when I strike. I fuck up my throwing position a little more, and he guides it proper. Fuck yeah. Jesus, I could stay like this forever. I feel the resonance of his deep voice within my very soul. Beckoning to me. “Become me. You want this. You deserve this,” it taunts. He was still coaching me, sure, but my mind is preoccupied with dark intent. 

These gentle breaths as he speaks- these steady hands guiding mine to a better position. These would be my truths now. A most intimate of trainings. Coach James would be training me-sure- he would be training me to use that bod. I stare at him with longing. He would never look at me that way. God, I wanted him so bad. We glisten with the sweat of the midday sun. I could melt just like this. And in fact, I do.

In that grasp, in that teaching moment, I decide to teach coach a couple tricks myself. I look up at his face. Earnest. Strong. Patient. I watch his lips- they’re still moving- he’s still guiding me. Good. He hasn’t noticed my body begin liquifying. He continues on, unfazed. Unconcerned. He always did have that humble strength about him. 

I am drawn to those plump lips, to his perfect smile and the void behind them, to the force of his breath over me, and to the very vibration that created them. I am drawn to that body which I would make mine. I wrap his thick arms around me. Those goddamn arms. They pulse and tense in surprise. He finally catches on. “- Hey. What are you doing? What.. What is this?” I pay no mind. A breeze picks up and his scent fills me. I wrap myself in it. Old spice deodorant layered over the pungent, musk of a man. My man. My scent, soon enough. The air was ripe in pheromones. Testosterone. James. I inhale deeply, trying to catch as much of him as I could. His skin is nice, too. It’s a bit damp, a bit hot from the heat, but nice. I feel them stretch taught, struggling to contain the mass of muscle beneath. I draw his shocked embrace even closer, uncomfortably close. I feel him between concern over my melting form and a need to push me away. Works for me. I continue to liquify further. Faster. You will be mine, Coach.

The world stops for a moment- at least for me. Maybe adrenaline, maybe my imagination. I commit this scene to memory, the scene where I become something greater. The scene where the real Coach James is born.

I shoot up his nose and flood his mouth. His body is forced to gorge itself with my mass. With every breath he attempts to draw, he pulls the liquid me instead. He retches, attempting to vomit me out, but I just draw myself further in. Flooding and flooding, I saturate coach with myself. When all but the last of me is a dribbling of slime upon his cheek, I disperse inside him. I drill into his every crevice, swim through his bloodstream, bond with his ever piece. I settle deeper and deeper inside my coach. Until his body no longer recognizes my presence as foreign. Until I am coach. I incubate into him, my pieces dormant. 

Coach James awakes in the grass to the odd sight of a star-filled sky and a cold night breeze. “What the fuck...” he ponders, rubbing his head in confusion. He aches all over, yet he isn’t hungry. He digs into his memory, attempting to piece together the past few hours. I just spent them digesting this afternoon so he would have no success. 

Unclear on the past events, yet unfazed, he walks back to his car and heads home.

———

That first night was magical-for me. As for coach, I’m not quite sure. I am ever present in his dreams. Pleasure, I think, is how I’d describe what being inside James was like. In his dreams, in his deepest thoughts, I lay there to witness them. These were thoughts, these were ideas, these were emotions that only I would be sole witness to, along coach. Ecstasy. This was a piece of him we would share alone. I was like a part of him, and only I would know him fully to this extent. 

In the next few days after the events of that afternoon, Coach appeared a little more vain, a little more irritable. To my teammates he just seemed off. They catch glimpses of him checking himself out. They hear the barely audible moans from his office as he delicately feels his every part. 

“What the fuck was up with coach” They say. Little did they know the real question to ask was ‘what was up’ IN their coach. Little did they know it was the influence of their missing teammate, ingraining himself deeper and deeper into his beloved James.

Despite the changes, my coach resists me. The further I try to bond, the more his body rejects me. It is a 3 day affair. A push and pull. With every push, I gain momentary connection to that bod, only to have that fulfillment ripped from my now non-existent hands. He was a coach, after all. I should have known it would be a battle of wills. Still, there was someone I had that coach didn’t have-yet. My mind. I had a cleverness match-made for that hot bod. A cleverness he deserved. A cleverness that I would utilize to the fullest to make that match a reality. Coach was a happy, content man. I was not. He needed my ambition, my cleverness, my lust. That body deserved better.

I let up the assault on his mind. He feels himself winning, backing my parts into a corner. It’s here where I apologize profusely inside him. He accepts because, James was the kind of guy to pick someone up when they’re down. He accepts my apology foolishly as we decide upon the best way I may leave him. A chance. We decide to do so in the privacy of his home- for my sake, of course. Little did he know, I felt his resistance weakest there. He readies himself for my exit, relaxing so I may flow out of him. I ready myself for one final push. It was in that moment that I surround coach with my psyche, encapsulate his very soul.

 Coach James wakes up making an odd face his body has never made. It was a lustful, sinful grin. It was my grin. I start chuckling. My voice is deep, booming. We moan together as my dormant parts stir. We moan as it starts convulsing. The shaking was harsh. I puppet this body still and eager to accept more of me. It takes some resistance but it finally yields. Nothing good comes easy, after all. I stick my parts take their rightful places. Those bulging, slick arms? Mine. Powerful, vascular legs? Also mine. That thick, veiny cock? Fucking. Mine. I feel them inside me- I alight as his energy becomes mine. We tickle. We feel great. At long last, this body was mine. 

No. Further. I want everything he ever is, ever was. James was gonna give me that. I wanted permanence. No one would ever tear us apart. I decide on his soul. I decide on becoming that as well. I string his soul up, prisoner in its own body, unable to do much of anything until transformed by the poison of my very being. In the meantime, I pleasure my new self to grant him a taste of what we could have, what we could be, once he yielded. I use those thick python arms as my own. I gingerly trace my a newly muscular inner thigh. I shiver in delight. Fuck. We were sensitive. Who knew?

I stare at myself in the mirror. Oh god, oh god this was real, he was truly mine. “Here’s how to use this bod correctly” I mock in that gentle, instructive tone he had. I rush up to the mirror and start making out with myself. It’s cold. It warms up as I continue to lap at it with my tongue, as I continue to smear with these new plump lips of mine. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff, coach” I moan as him. The room is humid, dripping with pheromone, hot from the heat I am emanating in wearing my beloved coach. I touch my new dick for the first time, feeling his soul rile up. I feel his teaching sensibilities corrupt with my desire. As any good coach knows, never let them have a chance to fight back. Before he has a chance to react to my newfound control or my actions, I pump quickly, determinedly. Yeah. Yeah. Fuck. Yeah. Coach’s body was fucking hot. This was a fucking dream- Oh My god. “Oh. Oh. oh” Our moans ring like music to my new ears. And in that final resonance, I release with only one thought: “I’m Coach James”. His hand shakes in resistance. This was it. I force the hand still. Command it. It was my hand after-all. I scoop our cum in my hand. I give my hot new reflection a playful wink. “Bottoms up” I say to us both. Sweet Nectar. My Nectar. With every taste and of his own milk, he perverts own senses, dilutes his very self. He has obviously never tasted himself to this capacity- because I finally feel his soul reflexively bond to mine. He tries to pull back. Like I’d let him. I greedily keep us tethered together. Then, he relents. There’s my James. 

When he finally yields I feel his memories, his feelings, hopes open up. I take them all. Distort them. I take all of him into me, meld them with myself until we were but one soul. They were me, now. My memories, sure. My senses. My feelings- fuck yeah, but inundated, saturated with my lust. Hopes- not a fucking chance. My hopes and dreams for this body are far greater. Coach James was greater that that. I was greater than that. I am the James the world deserves. 

I am left panting by the end of it. Ecstasy reverberates. It’s all me in here, baby. My coach- I was reborn. Tears stream down my cheeks. “Call me James” I say with newfound truth and intent. That name came naturally to me. I was fully him, after all.

———

‘New James’ is fucking kinky. Dirty. Narcissistic. As much as I love bossing around the kids, I love playing with myself even more. I got some great parts. Look at this fucking bicep. Teaching? Fuck that. Fuck the team. New James is ripe with ambition and power. “James Harrison got better fucking things to do that teach some stupid fucking kids,” I spit in the mirror as caress myself. Yeah. This bod’s a fucking power trip. So much more New James can do with his time. 

“New” might be a bit of a misnomer. I am James, in body mind and soul. I am James, in past-present and future. All he ever was? All he ever will be? Me. I am James, forever. And I aint no fucking coach.

-End-

Just a quick one.

[juleswritesthis]

Roswell NM: Episode 3x10 - My thoughts

Wow that was one awesome episode of Roswell New Mexico. The way the episode started all light with fun banter and ended in passion, kidnapping and violence. I mean I went through every single emotion and then back again. Plus the episode was really well written and I enjoyed all the storylines!

First Kyle, oh honey. He is such an incredibly giving human. The way he destroys the samples leading to Jones almost killing him. Then destroys the files leading to his arrest. And I knew, I knew, he had feelings for Isobel. Poor baby I don't want to see him love someone who wants someone else again. I can't with this man. He also had the funniest line of the episode..."you have ice powers now" LOL. Isabel's face. I really love those 2 together!!!

The Dallas & Heath scenes were good especially when they were kids. Who knew I would care for a character I just met, but I just love Dallas connection to Michael and Isobel. The fact that they are the triad not Max/Isobel/Michael though? Gosh that was a shock to me though I should have expected with Nora/Louise/Theo triad. I can't wait to find out more about this triad stuff and how it fits into the alien lore and their powers. That said I really felt for Dallas during this episode to have his entire belief system blown to smithereens. The man thought he was hearing voices from God to help people...but I guess he's going to help in a different way now.

The Liz and Max scenes were great. And I can feel them trying to figure things out though its difficult when they can never finish a conversation always interrupted by dead bodies, or the sheriff or Jones. I'm starting to really wonder if they will be able to actually find their way back to one another by season's end.

Loved that we finally got to hear the Lockhart message. I kept expecting Jones to barge in and kidnap Dallas. But then we see Heath, Liz and Max and I'm like nope that is so Jones. I wondered last week why Jones bothered with Heath since Liz is the scientific genius. I'm not clear about Heath's role in this other than Dallas best buddy? Like what is he really bringing to the table that Liz, Michael and Kyle can't? He seems a little behind in that he didn't even know Dallas was an alien. What?

What I don't understand is what was Nora/Louise and Theo's plan? Why was Max created if it was so diffcult for the bond between him and Jones to break? And is Max in anyway linked to the younger triad? Because if not why did Nora and Louise have Max in a pod next to their kids and not Dallas? The more answers we have the more questions arise!

I did feel sad for Max, he must be going through so much as it becomes clear how tethered he is to Jones. I'm glad he had Liz to talk him down from that particular ledge but it will only get worse if he finds out Theo's full message and that he is actually not "linked" to Isobel and Michael.

Then there is Michael. I couldn't help imagining that poor, little 9-year-old boy, completely alone in the world, taunted and bullied into using his powers and then tortured as a result believing he is the devil's child. No wonder hearing he is the actual devil's heir made him lose it in episode 3. I can't help it Michael always tugs at my heartstrings.

And finally there's Malex. Oh my dear god these 2 are just awesome, cosmic, beautiful...perfect. I love that Alex immediately understood why Michael didn't want to talk to Dallas. He knows Michael so well, better than anyone. And I love how Michael listened to Alex, because he trusts him completely and opened up to Dallas sharing an extremely painful memory. I don't even think I have recovered from the final Malex scene. Have we ever seen Michael so sweet, soft and gentle? He seemed at peace for the first time in forever and the I'm home line? Dead....so dead.

Anyway great episode. 3 more to go now!!!

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Hi love!

Can I please beg for Tangled Geraskier?

Rapunzel Jask. You know I’m a sucker for angst so including the scene where he cuts her hair would slay me 💖💖💖💖💖

TYILYYYYY

Hello, Stina dear! Sorry this took me actual months to write, but it broke me out of my writer’s block and for that I am eternally grateful.

I chose several pieces of the Tangled narrative to write Geralt and Jaskier into... enjoy! 

2k-ish words (please leave me comments I’m so tired my dudes)

tw: blood, injury, major character (near) death, if you’ve seen Tangled you’ve seen this

---

“So,” Jaskier smiles playfully up at the thief sitting beside him. “Roger Eric, huh?”

Geralt rolls his eyes but Jaskier catches the flush that settles high on his companion’s cheekbones. “It was… It’s a long and boring story about a lot of sad little children that I’m sure you don’t want to hear on such a lovely evening.”

Jaskier scoots closer, until the sides of their arms are pressed too tightly together for even a slip of paper to slide between, and leans his weight against the thief. He bats his thick eyelashes and pouts his lip in a way that always seems to work with his Father. “C’mon, Geralt, please won’t you tell me? Just one little story? I told you about my magical hair, after all.”

“Hmm,” the thief glares dawn at the doe-eyed blonde for a moment before nervously clearing his throat. “Fine. I… I got the name Geralt of Rivia from a collection of short stories that I used to read the other boys at the orphanage in Kaedwen; they were all about this knight who was loyal and brave and courageous despite his hideous appearance. He was rejected by princesses and noble women but was beloved by the people. Having been born with white hair… well, a lot of the folks that came looking for children thought I was under a spell or curse so…. I wasn’t their first choice for adoption.”

“You and Geralt were a lot alike, then. Different. Special… Kind.”

“I wouldn’t say I was spe-”

Jaskier’s hand darts forward and his long, slender musician’s fingers grasp Geralt by the wrist. The fledgling bard clings onto his escort tightly, his large blue eyes suddenly brimming up with tears. “Don’t you dare say you aren’t special, Geralt Roger Eric whatever your surname really is. I’ll never forgive you if you spew such nonsense where my delicate ears can hear it.”

Geralt swallows thickly and glances away. Jaskier always looks so sweet and sincere; the features on his boyish face flicker in and out of focus as patterns of light thrown by their small campfire play across his pale skin. His gaze is intense, focused on Geralt and Geralt alone. The thief panics and asks: “What is it, Jaskier? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You saved me, you know. You saved me from those men back there at the inn, you saved me from being trapped in the tower all my life, you saved me from getting lost in the forest, you… you’re a good person, Geralt. Don’t let the world or the Captain of the Guard or anyone else change your mind, do you understand me? You are-” Jaskier’s hands scrabble frantically to grasp Geralt’s, as if the white-haired man might disappear entirely if Jaskier so much as loosens his grip “- you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me since I’ve been locked in that foul, awful tower!”

“Well I…” Geralt clears his throat again. He stands slowly, disentangling his hangs from Jaskier’s as he takes a slow step back. And then another. “I should go get more firewood.”

Despite the uneasiness in their parting, Jaskier smiles after him. 

The momentary spell cast by their closeness is only broken when Jaskier hears a familiar voice from just behind him: “Well, I thought he’d never leave!”

The blonde jumps up from his seat and spins on his heel to face the black-cloaked wizard. “Father? How… How did you find me?”

Stregobor wraps his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders and squeezes so tightly that it feels more like a threat than an embrace. “It was easy, I simply followed the sound of absolute betrayal.”

Jaskier flinches and tries to pull away but cannot yet escape. 

“I just brought you this,” his Father continues. He finally releases Jaskier and hands his son the worn leather satchel he’d found hidden in his tower. “If this Geralt creature really is the man you think him to be -and don’t deny it, little flower, I can read your thoughts- give this back to him and see how long he stays.”

“Father, I-”

“Goodbye, my child. See you soon, I’m sure. Just remember that Father knows best!”

And in a swirl of black smoke and confusion, Stregobor disappears.

---

“Why do you look so scared?” Geralt asks. He slows the small gondola he’s rented to a stop, turning it slightly more to the side so that they have a better vantage point to see the lanterns spread over the harbor from the city. Jaskier sighs deeply and shakes a stray flower petal away from his eyes, the enormous golden braid shifting ever-so-slightly against his shoulders.

“I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years,” he says softly. Nervously. “What if… What if it’s not what I expected? I’m terrified to see what it all looks like up close because what if it doesn’t meet my expectations? What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?”

“It will be,” Geralt replies without thinking. 

“And what if it is?” Jaskier queries, voice growing frantic. “What if it’s even more spectacular than I could have ever hoped? Then my dream will have been fulfilled and I’ll just… go back to the tower again.”

“You’ll just have to find a new dream, I guess,” Geralt offers. When Jaskier settles down into the boat a bit more comfortably and smiles shyly back at him, the thief knows he’s hit the right mark for once. Behind Geralt, the first lantern lights up the sky. Jaskier gasps and points, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement; Geralt is utterly enchanted by his easy beauty. The thief digs two paper lanterns out from beneath his seat and offers one to Jaskier, giddy when he grins even more excitedly than before. “I got this for you… I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I love it! And I have something for you, too.” Jaskier turns and pulls something from behind him. The bardling hands Geralt his very own satchel, which the thief briefly accepts and then drops to the floor without a second thought. The anxious blonde musician beams over at him more gloriously than the midday sun and then turns away, blushing a sweet shade of pink. “I should have given it to you earlier, but I was so scared… and now I’m not! I’m not scared anymore!”

“Good,” Geralt smiles back. He’s elated. It feels as if his heart is glowing twice as brightly as any of the lanterns floating past and around them. “That’s very good.”

I know what my dream is now, Jaskier. Now that you’re here by my side I never want to see you frown again. You don’t deserve to be hidden away in a tower where your art is stifled… even if you don’t want to love me back in that way, I’ll still protect you. I want to see how you see the world, Jaskier. I lo-

“Geralt! Look! That one has runes painted on it, what does it say!?”

---

Geralt pulls his daggers from his belt but before he can stab them into the craigy stone wall and begin his ascent, the familiar tresses of Jaskier’s long golden hair topple down to reach him. Thank fuck, he’s still alive. 

“Jaskier! I thought I’d never see you again!” he calls as he grabs hold of the thick blonde strands. 

The thief climbs quickly, his arms and legs nearly cramping with the effort to hurry back to Jaskier. As he hauls himself through the large window and into the tower proper, however, he’s met with a confusing and unsettling sight: Jaskier stands across the room, a cloth gag pulled tightly between his teeth, his hands manacled together behind him. A short length of spare chain attached to the manacles keeps the frightened, struggling blonde tethered against one of the building’s thick support beams. Someone had knocked down a mirror or vase during the previous fighting; shards of pottery and silver lie scattered across the floor, working as a weak barrier to keep Geralt away from the bound man. Jaskier screams out in warning as their eyes meet: “Ghmphh!”

If Jaskier is being held captive then who let his hair do-

Before Geralt can finish fully forming his question, a bright flash of pain arcs out from his side and sends him toppling to his knees. A wet, sticky heat begins to spread from a spot beneath his ribs and when he presses his hand against his shirt it comes way red. 

Oh. Oh, no...

He hears Stregobor’s voice addressing the sobbing blonde, “Now look what you’ve done, Jaskier.”

Geralt collapses to his knees and then falls to his side, curling up in the fetal position and clutching at the wound as if that will be any help at all. He knows he’s doomed, but there must be some way for him to help Jaskier… to save his… his love. 

“Don’t worry, little flower, our secret will die with your little thief, here, and then we’ll be safe again. Just the two of us.”

Jaskier keens loudly and the sharp, desperate sound of it makes something deep in Geralt’s heart ache. The younger man pulls and yanks against the chains that hold him in place, his bare feet slipping against the polished floor as he tries and fails to reach the wounded Geralt. 

Stregobor yanks at the lead, pulling Jaskier back harshly by the arms. The young musician’s shoulders burn with the strain of it but Jaskier pulls forward anyway, uncaring. He must save Geralt, he must. The wizard tugs him back again, more roughly, and the jarring movement loosens his gag. He spits it from his mouth and cries out: “Stregobor! Strego- Father, listen to me!”

The wizard pauses, his interest piqued by Jaskier’s use of the word Father given the circumstances. “Yes, child?”

“Father,” Jaskier pants, turning to look at the man who’d held him captive for eighteen years. The man who kidnapped him from his cradle and forced him to grow up without the love of his real parents. The man who had, mere moments ago, stabbed the love of Jaskier’s life with the full intention of killing him. “I want you to know that I won’t stop fighting you. Every moment of every day for the rest of my life will be spent trying to get away from you. I will scream and kick and struggle and yell and you will have to keep me caged away as a bird or a mouse to make me stay by your side unless-” Jaskier pauses to take a breath, his shoulders sagging as his gaze drops submissively to the floor between them “-unless you let me save this man. Let me save Geralt’s life and I will follow you all around the Continent without a single word of complaint. I will never attempt to run away or hide from you, not once. Everything will go back to being exactly like it was before, Father, I swear on his life.”

Stregobor considers for a moment. 

He nods. 

“Alright, then. Let’s be quick about it, little flower.”

He removes the shackles from Jaskier and clamps them tightly around Geralt’s wrists instead, securing him to the bannister at the foot of the stairs. To keep him from following us, he remarks offhandedly. 

Jaskier pads his way across the floor as quickly as he can in his bare feet and falls to the ground at Geralt’s side. He pulls the wounded thief against his side to steady him and gathers two heavy handfuls of his own long hair. “I’m so sorry! Everything is going to be okay now, Geralt, I swear it.”

Geralt shoves his hands away weakly, “No, Jaskier.”

“You have to trust me, Geralt, I-”

“I c-can’t let you d-do this,” Geralt grunts, teeth gritted against the pain. 

Jaskier stares down at him, tears already gathering at the corners of his sky-blue eyes. His voice trembles when he whispers, “And I can’t let you die. I won’t let you die.”

“But if you do th-this then you-” Geralt coughs and Jaskier wipes a trickle of blood away from the corner of the thief’s mouth “-you will die.”

“Shh,” Jaskier quiets him, dropping one fistfull of blonde tresses to cup Geralt’s face instead. “Everything will be alright.”

Geralt smiles sadly up at Jaskier, his decision already having been made. He lets the back of his knuckles ghost across the musician’s peach-soft cheek. Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and then open again, curious. “Jaskier, I…”

The thief uses the last of his strength to push up into a sitting position. The hand on Jaskier’s face slides back and gathers his hair at the back of his neck. Geralt’s other hand comes up, a shard of glass gripped tightly in his fist, and slices through the long blonde strands. He watches as Jaskier’s hair turns from radiant gold to chestnut brown. Geralt falls back with a short, sharp sound of agony, his vision already fading around the edges. The shard of mirror, dagger-sharp around the edges, clatters to the ground beside Jaskier. 

“No!” Stregobor screams, gathering up an armful of Jaskier’s still-blonde hair. The golden hue is already fading, shifting to match the short brown hair still fluffed around his head. The lost prince watches with wide, horrified eyes as the wizard trips over a loose floorboard and goes careening out the open window. 

More worrying than his kidnapper’s death, however, is the man lying in his arms, breathing shallowly. Jaskier gathers Geralt close, tucking the thief’s head against his neck and wrapping his arms around the older man’s broad shoulders. “No, no, no, no, Geralt. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me, right here.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s hand, holding it against the top of his head as he sang desperately. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back was once was mi-”

“Jaskier!” Geralt says, pulling his hand down to cup the prince’s face. He can feel his limbs growing cold and numb, distant from him and out of his control. “You… You were my new dream.”

Jaskier sobs, clinging to Geralt with all he’s worth. “And you were mine.”

Geralt manages to smile up into those beautiful blue eyes one last time. And then the world goes dark and his hand falls to the floor, limp.

---

Jaskier buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck and screams. He throws back his head and howls like a wounded animal, his heart shattering to pieces within the confines of his chest cavity. Then he quiets himself down, adjusts Geralt’s body on his lap, and finishes the song the way he’s been taught to do: “Heal what has been hurt, change the Fates’ design, save what has been lost… bring back what once was mine.”

A single tear falls from his eye and lands on Geralt’s cheek. A cheek that will never blush again, never turn up in a smile, never-

A faint yellow glow catches Jaskier’s vision, just from the corner of his eye. He turns his head to look at Geralt’s wound and gasps: the outline of a golden flower covers his abdomen, glowing so brightly that Jaskier must hide his eyes and turn away to keep from being blinded. When the glow fades enough that can safely look back again, Geralt’s wound is gone and the blood that was once staining his jerkin has disappeared. 

He leans over the white-haired thief with bated breath, waiting for a movement or a breath or something… anything. 

After a long moment, two honey-hazel eyes blink open. Geralt inhales quietly and then asks, with the sweetest smile Jaskier has ever seen in all his eighteen years of life, “Did I ever tell you I had a thing for brunettes?”

Jaskier squeals with glee and throws himself into Geralt’s waiting arms, pressing their eager mouths together for the first kiss of their Happily Ever After. 

[timelesslords]

invisible string

read on Ao3 

Missing scene from Mark of Athena- Annabeth realizes the curse of Achilles is gone. 

Annabeth wasn't one to call fighting monsters fun, but she might just have to make an exception for ones made of tar.

Okay, so the actual monsters hadn't been fun. And really, fighting monsters was never really fun. But she couldn't deny that there was something exhilarating about fighting alongside Percy again, after so many months apart. She had been worried that they might be out of step, that the distance and the time might have weakened the bond they shared. That Percy's memories wouldn't quite be the same, or still be distant and fuzzy like Jason's. But they were as in sync as ever. As soon as the first monster had risen from the tar, all it had taken was one glance to solidify their strategy for dealing with it.

Add in Percy's new shape-shifting friend Frank for a speedy getaway, and Annabeth had the most fun she had had in months. Of course, there was still the minor issue of actually getting the ship in flying shape once they got back. And being separated from Percy again, even if it was only a few floors away, instead of hundreds of miles. And the aftermath of trying to get the tar out of her hair– that had been something Annabeth seriously never wanted to repeat. 

But something was bothering her, something she didn't have the time or mental energy to explore until she was sitting on her bunk, trying to dry her hair. Percy had fought impressively; he always did. But he hadn't been the one-man army Annabeth had gotten accustomed to, during and after the war. He hadn't been invincible.

She wasn't sure– wasn't positive– but her gut was telling her that something was off. And she thought she might know what, even though the thought of it made her stomach do somersaults. 

They were going to have a meeting in the mess hall soon, and she didn't have a lot of time. But she had to know. So Annabeth slipped out of her cabin, making her way towards the one she knew Percy had claimed an hour or so earlier. She knocked, but didn't wait for a response before opening the door. 

"Hey," Percy said, sitting up from his bunk. He looked pleased to see her, his classic troublemaker smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"Hey yourself." Annabeth said, letting herself in and shutting the door behind her. It wasn't technically allowed for them to be in the same room together alone, especially with the door closed, but Annabeth had brought her invisibility cap just in case. She could probably slip it on fast enough to avoid being caught. Probably.

Percy scooted over, making room on the bed for her. She sat down next to him, and he wrapped his arm around her. It felt so nice to just be together Annabeth almost didn't bring it up, but the long, shallow scratch on the arm holding her made that impossible. 

She traced the scratch with her finger. It shouldn't have been possible, and yet here it was, staring at her in the face.

"It doesn't hurt." Percy said, noticing her attention, but misreading her concern. 

"But it shouldn't be there." Annabeth said. 

Percy looked at her strangely, like he didn't understand what she meant. Annabeth felt a cold and familiar fear in the pit of her stomach. Ever since they had cracked Hera's sick riddle and figured out that Percy and Jason had been swapped, Annabeth had been haunted by the very real possibility that even if they managed to find Percy, he wouldn't remember her. Obviously that hadn't happened, but this wasn't a small thing either. What if Percy's memories weren't as intact as he was letting on?

"The curse of Achilles," Annabeth prompted, trying to keep the fear out of her voice, "You should be invincible." 

"Oh! That." Percy said, recognition finally flashing across his face. Annabeth was suddenly torn between abject relief and the very strong urge to yell at him for making her panic. She settled on relief. 

"I had to give it up when I crossed the Tiber.” Percy explained, “Hera– or Juno, whatever, she said it was a Greek curse, that I couldn't carry it into Roman territory."

Without thinking, Annabeth took her free hand and slid it around Percy's back, brushing her fingers over the small of his back, his Achilles heel. Percy had told her that it felt like a thousand little lightning bolts were racing up and down his skin, when she touched it. She remembered the look in his eyes when he had guided her fingers there for the first time, equally terrified and exhilarated. She got no such reaction now; just a sort of sad apologetic look. 

She pulled back her hand. Annabeth had already known intellectually that it was gone, but it still felt like something had snapped inside her.

"Oh." Annabeth said. 

"Disappointed?" Percy asked. He was studying her expression carefully, like he was trying to decipher a puzzle. 

Annabeth sighed. She'd originally started calling him Seaweed Brain because he could be so obtuse sometimes, especially when it came to reading her. He hadn't even realized she liked him after they'd kissed in that stupid volcano, for gods' sake. But the longer they knew each other, the more difficult it became for her to hide anything from him. He was actually surprisingly perceptive, especially now that he knew to be looking.

"No, no." Annabeth said, wrapping her hand in his, "I just– I don't know. It feels like a bad omen." 

"I've honestly gotten used to not having it." Percy admitted. He interlocked his fingers with hers, and Annabeth was pleased to find that they fit together as perfectly as they had before. That, at least, hadn't changed.

"You never really needed it." Annabeth said, truthfully. Percy had always been a skilled fighter. And, okay, maybe it had been necessary for the war, but only because they had been so hopelessly outnumbered. But unless they were facing 250 monsters to one demigod again, Percy could easily hold his own without it.

"You're still upset though." Percy noted. 

Annabeth bit her lip. She felt a bit stupid for it, but she wasn't really upset about Percy losing the protection. Sure, it sucked that he was a little more breakable now, but he hadn't exactly been very breakable to begin with. 

In truth, she felt worse that the connection between them forged by the Achilles curse had been wiped away. Not just her having taken that knife for him, though that was part of it. Percy had told her later that the thing that had kept him tethered to his life, to himself when he bathed in the Styx had been her. She had been his lifeline, literally. Maybe that was how she had known to take that knife for him in the first place, because that little spot had tied them together in some hallowed, inseparable way. 

And now it was gone, along with their matching grey streaks, the only other physical reminder of the bond they shared. Annabeth was embarrassed to admit how much it had upset her when the grey had finally worn out of her hair. 

"It's just... I don't know. It feels someone cut an invisible string between us." Annabeth said. 

Percy nodded, like he understood, and Annabeth knew he did. knew he was thinking of all the same things she was. As if to prove it, he took his free hand and brushed the one curl that had once been grey behind her ear. She, too, could pick out his strand of hair that the sky had marred, even if it had turned dark again. 

"I felt like that too, at first." Percy admitted, "I didn't want to give it up. I knew it was important somehow. But I also knew if I wanted to see you again, it was the only way." 

Annabeth looked in his eyes, warm and earnest, and felt something in her chest glow. It was still incredible to her that he had remembered her, despite Hera's full force. She knew it had to have been him, and just him; Hera hated her too much to leave the memory of her in his mind. 

"I guess I can deal with you being a little more delicate. As long as we're together." Annabeth said. Percy smiled, squeezed her hand.

"Delicate, huh?" 

"Like fine china." Annabeth teased, "I'm going to have to watch out for you."

"You always watch out for me." Percy smiled. 

"Somebody's got to." Annabeth said.

They sat quietly for a minute, just enjoying each other's company. 

"You're still my lifeline, you know." Percy said, suddenly, "Wiping away the curse didn't change that." 

It was Annabeth's turn to squeeze his hand, because if she tried to speak she thought she might cry. She settled for kissing him instead, slow and sweet, revelling in the fact that he was finally back with her again.

They only broke apart when Annabeth heard footsteps coming down the hall. She managed to shove her hat on just as Piper knocked on the door.

"Come it!" Percy called, desperately trying to straighten out his shirt. Annabeth bit down the urge to laugh.

"Meeting in the mess hall in five." Piper said, poking her head in the door, "You too Annabeth."

"She's uh- she's not here." Percy said. It was so deeply unconvincing, what with Percy's flushed face and mussed hair, that Annabeth actually had to cover her mouth to prevent a giggle from escaping. Piper smirked. Even if she hadn't been a daughter of Aphrodite, the scene would have been fairly obvious to most onlookers. And Piper was most definitely a daughter of Aphrodite.

"You're a terrible liar." she said, amused, "But whatever. If you happen to see her, could you let her know?"

"Yeah. Yup. I can do that." Percy said, but Piper had already disappeared down the hall. Annabeth shimmered back into view, unable to hold back her laughter anymore.

"Is she always like that?" Percy asked, his face still red. 

"Oh yeah. I think you're going to like her." Annabeth said, standing up, pulling Percy with her. They walked down to the mess hall hand and hand.

So maybe the curse was gone, and the grey streaks in their hair had faded away. But they didn't need those physical reminders of each other, not really. He had remembered her, and she had found him. They were tying new invisible strings to each other, ones that couldn't be severed by any sword, or any river or any god. 

And Annabeth had a feeling this was just the start.