#anyways. here she is with a dandelion as i was reading peace is every step

[sometimesanequine]

bonus horse brought to you by myself reading buddhist literature once again

[prodtrouver]

➾ The Criminal Who Loved

All he could do is run, hide, and live. He couldn't go to the town and always hid himself. After such accusation were made, the only person who could clear him is his brother, but he isn't there for him. What if a criminal finds a fairy who doesn't know him? What if he learns to love? Only for him to fear that will be taken away.

Pairing: runaway prince!Mark Lee x half fairy fem!reader

Other characters: mentions of Fairy!Renjun, Elf! Yeonjun and Huening Kai, Prince!Jeno, Baker!Haechan,

Genre/warnings: angst, fluff, running away, mentions of poison, mentions of traps,

No. of Words: 4.3k

The day felt longer than it was. The woods are quiet today which calmed you. The clouds that covered the blue sky, the strong breeze that was weakened by the tall trees; it was a long but peaceful day so far.

The flowers were gently plucked out from the ground to your basket. Your touch was so gentle, the other fairies found it amusing they couldn't feel it.

"Y/n! What do you think of today? Won't you go to the town?" A purple fairy sat on your shoulder. A soft smile on your lips as you softly shook your head. You gave her a dandelion,

"I have more important things to finish. I have no business in town," you softly spoke. You stood from the ground and begin to head back to your fellow fairies who took care of you.

Yes, you're a fairy, a half at least. You were trusted in their care, full of hopes you will protect them because you're one of the two who are human sized.

"Y/n is back! Y/n is back!" A tiny young fairy fled to you. Her small figure around your figure as you gently out the basket down for them.

"Yes, I'm back... Where is Renjun?" You asked, instantly while distracted, they pointed their fingers to the direction where the other is. You smiled, stood, and fixed your dress. "I will be back."

You searched for Renjun, the second fairy who protects the rest. The boy's pretty eyes are glued to the cloudy sky. He's the fairy who paints the skies, the truth to the saying of their world: 'Gods or Deities are responsible for the colors of the sky.'

"Why is Painter Fairy staring at his masterpiece today?" Immediately, he turned around to face you. A slightly serious expression on his pretty face.

"Y/n, there is this boy in this woods. He found the old cabin of your father. He lives there now," he said. Your eyes widen; A boy? Living in the cabin you grew up in?

"Who is this boy, Renjun? Is he bad?" You asked, your nervousness seen yet mostly covered by your courage.

"No, he is not. I could tell he is accused of something. Fear not, I will be here if you confront him." He patted your shoulder. You softly nodded your head, your heartbeat was rapid from the thoughts. Is the boy dangerous? Renjun said he could tell he was accused, what could it be?

"Y/n, you know what to do when you need me.",

You watched from a far as the boy exited the cabin. He combed his hazel hair with his hand as he sat on the stairs of the cabin. He looked at the dead leaves on the ground, his eyes glued there while his expression showed a troubled expression.

He stood on his feet again, he looked around, but your presence remained unknown to him. He returned inside the cabin and locked the door. You moved away from the tree and closer to the cabin. The boy was handsome, almost like a prince.

The way the sun glistened on his face. His shiveled hazel hair that reached his eyes lashes. He looked like a normal human and from his aura that you could feel, he is one. You placed your hand on the cabin wall but something else reflected light on your face.

You turned your head on the side, only to see a sheathed sword. You felt your heart freeze then you heard the door open.

There you are, standing in front of the human boy who looked surprised to see you. He glanced at his sword before he looked at you again. Immediately and by instincts, you backed away. Your figure was shaking and it was visible to his eyes.

"Do you... Live in this cabin?" He asked softly, and made sure you won't be terrified of him. However, he doubted that you live in the cabin for there was dust everywhere when he found it.

You, on the other hand, was still shaking. Your hand stayed close to your chest as you were ready to call Renjun for help. He observed your figure, you had h/c that matched your eyes. You looked magical yet mysterious to his vision.

"I won't hurt you, I swear," he said and moved a but closer. "Do you live in this cabin?" He asked and you nodded. His expression showed how surprised he is... He didn't expect that...

"But not anymore," you said with the left over courage you had. The more you stare at him, the more gentle he looks. You hoped he could say his name faster and as if he could read your mind-,

"My name is Mark Lee, I won't hurt you, don't worry.... Unless, you're one of them." He softly glared which made you take a step back. Judging from you acted just now, you aren't. Anyway, he knows his kingdom doesn't accept female guards nor assassins.

"Are you harmful? What's your objective? What are you doing here?" You asked but he just stared at you. "That's none of your business," he coldly said before he gets inside.

You know curiosity could be bad sometimes but the further you observe Mark, the more perks you notice of him.

The way he scrunched his nose when he couldn't do anything in one try or the way he clapped his hands when he successfully did something difficult. He's a funny and dorky boy, not to mention the way he treated animals is gentle as well.

You sat on the tree branch, your eyes glued on the boy who's feeding baby squirrels. You were surprised, amused with how beautiful the land has become when he came.

The dead leaves are gone, the pond beside the cabin looked cleaner. Flowers of different kinds are even blooming around the cabin. You never knew you would see this sight again of your old home.

However, other than his dorky side, he looks strong and cautious. You found it weird how he looks around every hour as if he's being hunted. You feel attached with the boy, even if it has only been days since you first talked to him.

"How is watching the boy, y/n?" An elf climbed in your shoulder and sat down. You gave him a sliced apple you have before you looked at Mark again.

"He isn't harmful, he takes care of the area very well. The animals loves him too," you smiled and the elf squinted his eyes.

"Don't be too distracted, y/n! He might be dangerous! Maybe, he knows you're watching, and acts nice, so you will think he's not dangero-,"

"Oh, quiet, Yeonjun. If he knew I'm watching then I'm pretty sure he would've talked to me or stopped me already. Therefore, do not overthink," you spat and left the tiny elf pouty and speechless.

"Maybe you should talk to him, y/n!" Another elf showed themself, this time he had a purple hat while Elf Yeonjun had orange.

"Should I?" You asked Elf Huening Kai who nodded. Yeonjun pulled your hair and shouted a 'no'.

"I think the boy there needs someone to be friends with!"

"I think the boy there deserves to be left alone!" Yeonjun said, grumpier from your words earlier. The two elves countinued to bicker while you take matters in your feet.

"Hold tight, little ones," you said and you begin to fidget. They immediately held onto your hair while you jumped down the tall tree. The elves screamed in fear, both afraid of heights while you kept a smile on your face.

As soon as your feet hit the leafy ground, Mark turned around. The surprised boy stared at you as he wondered where you came from.

"Y/n! Don't do that!!" He heard a voice from your shoulders. You chuckled and carefully get off the two elves who were shaking. You placed them on the wood railings of your old cabin while you looked at Mark.

"I'm impressed, you managed to make this lifeless are blossom again!" You said, you sweet smile distracted Mark from his wonders for a split second.

"Ah, yeah- wait, how did you- where did you come from?" He asked, his shocked expression still in his face. Quietly, you pointed at the tall tree where you sat.

"EH- You wouldn't be able to survive that fall!" Mark shouted and caused you to flinch.

"Hey, you big man! Yes, she can because our precious y/n is a half fairy! She can land on her feet like a cat!" Yeonjun pointed at Mark who looked even more shocked.

"Wow... Elves are real or is it a potion you drank?" Mark leaned closer to look at the 2 elves. Instantly, Yeonjun tried to punch his eye with his tiny fist but he was stopped by Huening Kai.

"I'm sorry, he can be feisty," the other elf apologizes while Yeonjun tries to get out of his grip. You sigh which caught his Mark's attention.

"I apologize for the little elf's behalf. Despite his small figure, he is pretty feisty. The gods made the right choice of making him an elf." You said and glared at Yeonjun who looked defeated.

Mark just laughed, still fascinated by the elves and you? A half fairy? He never even knew they exist until now.

"May I come in? I missed this place," you asked boldly, even though it's unknown where you got this confidence from. Mark thought for a few seconds but remembered, the cabin used to be your home.

"Sure,"

"Y/n! We're going with you!" Yeonjun shouted, only to be flicked on the forehead by you. Elf Huening Kai tried to hold his laughter while Yeonjun stayed pouty.

"I'll be back," you said and followed Mark inside the cabin. The cabin isn't really small but it isn't really big either. It was a decent size for a small family. She was in awe, it felt like she was living her past memories once more.

Mostly everything is still the same but certain things have been moved. Mark's gaze followed you as you looked around. The strings of his heart were pulled when a smile appeared in your pink lips.

You looked so happy and relieved, he didn't want to ruin it by calling your name. You mentioned you once lived there, you must have missed the cabin.

Now, he begins to wonder- do you know? Do you have an idea who he even is? Do you know what he did that caused him to stay here? He didn't want you to know, he didn't want to danger you nor your kind.

"Can I go upstairs?" You asked and he nodded. You immediately head upstairs while Mark stayed.

"Hey, you big man! Who are you? Where did you come from!?" He looked down to see Elf Yeonjun and Huening Kai behind him, trying to stop the older from speaking further.

"Yeonjun, stop it!" Huening Kai held the elf's arm. Mark kneeled down to look at the elves.

"I'm a runaway," Mark admitted, and this surprised the elves. Yeonjun stopped moving and Huening Kai's grip became lighter.

"I'm a runaway from the kingdom," he said once more. Yeonjun took a step back and shielded Huening Kai. Fear on the elf's face as he remembered what his fellow elf told him once.

"Are you the runaway who tried to poiso-,"

"Mark! Thank you for letting me in," you went back downstairs. You halted your steps in confusion when you saw the Yeonjun cowering in fear and a confused Huening Kai behind him.

"What's going on?" You asked, Mark shook his head as he quickly looked away.

"No problem, however, I think it's better if you three head back. Night is about to come, it might be too dangerous for you." Mark smiled and passed by you as he head to the bedroom upstairs.

You nodded, although he couldn't see you. He gently places Yeonjun and Huening Kai on your shoulders.

"Why do you look scared, Yeonjun?" You asked but he only shook his head.

"I saw a giant spider behind Mark earlier, so I got scared!" Yeonjun believably lied which made Huening Kai believe in him too.

Shortly, you left the area and head back home.

You walked down the busy streets of the town. A basket on your arm as you head to your favorite bakery. However, on your way there, you saw a few castle guards asking the townspeople.

"Excuse me, young miss," you flinched. You looked to your side, only to see a castle guard.

"Have you see the first prince?" The guard showed you a paper. A paper with Mark Lee drawn below the word: wanted.

Your eyes quickly scanned through the whole paper. Words like 'first prince' or 'attempted to poison the king' or 'ran away'... They all shocked you. Is that what Renjun meant? Is he accused or really did this?

"No, I did not but may I keep the flyer, sir?" You asked softly. Your heart shattering with the news but you didn't understand why. You watched Mark for days and he didn't seem harmful. You needed to know the answer. The guard accepted your request and gave you the flyer.

"Thank You," you mumbled and began to walk away. You forget about the bread, you want to talk to Mark about the truth.

You went back to the woods, away from the guards, away from the town, and on your way to find Mark. The trip took time but you were determined to get the truth out.

You felt your surroundings stop when you saw Mark. He looked so happy when he fed the baby squirrels and the way he chuckled when a parrot sat on his head. You asked yourself again: did he really try to do that?

"Mark," you called him from behind. He turned to face you, a smile on his lips while you looked sad and confused.

"Mark, did you... Did you really try to poison... Poison the king?" You asked, your voice as soft as a whisper. Mark stood still, his smile disappeared from his lips, and it was replaced with a frown.

"You really think I would do that?" He asked, the bowl on his palm was still full of bird seeds.

"I-I don't know, Mark... I barely know you..." You said and Mark slowly walked towards you.

"I was accused, y/n. I don't want to kill my own father. I was accused because they saw the bottle in my bedroom. I ran away, y/n... I ran away because I was scared," his frown never seemed to leave his face. You felt your heart break at how weak and broken his voice sounded.

"How should I know... How can you prove to me that you are innocent?" You didn't have the will to take a step back but he stood so close to you. He delicately took your hand and placed it in his chest.

"I saw a book in the bedroom of the cabin. It said that fairies, even half fairies can tell if people are lying by their pulse. If it's uneven, they are lying. Is my pulse uneven, y/n?" He asked which shocked you. You knew that but never got to experience it.

You close your eyes, suddenly, everything felt silent. You could only hear his heartbeat and it didn't feel uneven. Instantly, a relieving wave washed over your worries. You pulled your hand back as you stared at Mark.

"You... You're not lying," you say and Mark let out a soft chuckle.

"Why would I lie?" He said and you hugged him immediately. He was shocked about your actions but tilted his head when you pulled away.

"How are you going to clear your name? You're not even a criminal!" You spat, angrily. A pout on your lips while the frown was back on his face.

"My brother... Lee Jeno could clear my name because he was with me the whole day the incident happened. He helped me run away as well. If there's someone who could clear my name, it is him," Mark said and everything went silent.

The woods strong breeze weakened by the tall trees again. Birds chirped above you both while little animals played on the leafy ground.

You want Mark's name to be cleared, although you don't know why you're suddenly feeling like this.

A week have passed and everything was peaceful. You felt at peace with Mark, even other fairies and elves loved him.

Here you are with him, both sat on the blanket as you played with the animals and fairies around you two. You feel so close with Mark as if he has been your friend for a long time.

Although, it gave you feelings that you've never experienced before. You have read about it and it's the feeling of love.

They say a fairy who is in love could feel how quick their heart beats. They could hear the thumps of their in love heart. Mostly, they definitely feel safer and stronger with them. Although, you never really showed your magic in front of anyone, other than Renjun, and a potion maker.

"Y/n, you said that you used to live in this cabin. Why did you move out?" Mark asked you as he fed the young fox. You frowned and looked away at the horrendous memory that served as your nightmare.

"My mom was caught and my father was killed," you said, able to trust Mark with your past. Mark stiffned as he looked at you. The sad and pitiful expression on your face was heartbroing for him to look at.

"My mom was a fairy, she was trapped by some mere castle servant for the king. My dad chased after her, only to be killed in the process. I never knew what they did to my mother but the fairies could tell her presence is no longer in this world." You told Mark, your heart wrenched at the vision a potion maker once showed you.

The vision of how they trapped your mother and how they killed you father. It was traumatizing and it served a horrible memory to replay after years.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know that. All I knew was that my father hated fairies. I don't know why but my mother told us, brothers that fairies are just found in books. That's why, I never knew they existed," Mark said and gently patted your back for reassurance.

"I'm very sure they are in a place where they could rest peacefully. I am also sure that they are happy of their daughter growing healthy." Mark smiled which caused you to smile as well. You close your eyes and rest your head in his shoulder.

How could you tell him you're in love with a prince? With an accused prince who is known as a criminal? How can you tell your people and Mark Lee that?

"Y/n, if I return back to the castle, will you go with me?" He asked you and you felt your heart stop for a second. You open your eyes and stare at the boy. His warm brown eyes stared into yours as you think of an answer.

"Why should I go with you, Mark? You are a prince, I am a half fairy who has her village to protect." You softly spoke and once again, the dreaded frown appears on his lips.

"You're right... But what if my name never gets cleared?"

"It will be cleared eventually, Mark. People will know the truth," you said as he took your warm hand. Your soft hand grasping his rough ones. He pressed it over his chest.

"I like you, y/n... Ever since I told you the truth, I feel safer with you. I feel happier with you and I'm afraid that might be taken away from me as well." He cries and you feel your body shake. Immediately, you engulfed the boy in a hug.

"I won't be taken away, Mark. I like you too," you whispered and Mark pulled you closer to him. You smiled in his embrace as he caressed your cheeks.

"Fairy Y/n, will you do the honors of being with the oldest prince of the Dream Kingdom?" He stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You laughed and held his hand before you did a small courtesy.

"Of course, Prince Mark,"

It was midnight when you begin to feel weird. The boy was sleeping peacefully beside you, however, you aren't sure if you could stay any longer. You quietly rushed out of the cabin to warn everyone.

You waved your hand, pile of leaves flying a certain direction to call Renjun. You gently knocked on the trees until a bird comes out.

"Check what is coming," you whispered before it flew away. You turn around, whispering to the small animals to hide for their safety. You looked around throughly, in search for a fairy ring you could control.

"Y/n, I'm here- what do you need?" Renjun asked as he stood beside you. You pointed at the direction that was giving you weird feelings.

"I could feel men walking, a group of them but not many," you said as Renjun nodded. He waved his hand, the same thing you did but this time, the wind became stronger. It couldn't be stopped by the tall trees anymore.

He held onto your wrist, not interested in making you fly away.

"Y/n, can you extend the fairy rings?" Renjun asked as he kept the wind at the same strength. You used the rest of your energy for that day to extend the rings.

Suddenly, the bird arrived and stood on your shoulder. It begin to whisper about what it saw.

"Renjun, the guards left and only two are coming. Those 2 are the princes of the kingdom," you said and Renjun sighed. He stopped the strong wind, only to face you. He patted your head,

"I will be near when you need me. I will be watching from above," he stated before jumping on tree to another. The bird quickly fled after him. You stood there, on your guard as you wait for the 2 princes to come... They must be here for Mark.

"Are you y/n?" You jolted your head up and in your sight, you saw them. Both on their tall white horses as you nod their head.

"I'm Jeno and this is my younger brother, Jisung... I heard from a fairy that our older brother is here, may we see him-,"

"No need, I'm here now," you slightly flinched once you heard Mark's deep voice after woken up.

"Mark, we have evidence!" Jisung said, about to take a step until he saw the line of mushrooms in front of him. "A fairy ring, interesting," he leaned down and saw glitters around each mushroom.

"Jisung, don't get distracted now-"

"I know, I know- actually, why won't you tell him the good news?" Jisung smiled as he looked left and right to see where the ring formed. Jeno sighed at the attention span of his brother.

"We got the poison's bottle checked by a witch. The fingerprints on the bottle belonged to a woman elf. The witch also stated that these kinds of poison could only be brewed by witches and wizards." Jeno explained as you look at Mark for any reaction on his face.

"How will you explain this to father and the kingdom? They will think you're only doing this to cover my 'crime' and not everyone believes in witches and wizards. I think, you guys are lucky you even found one," Mark said but you shook your head.

"Witches and wizards are common if you are in the right area. I believe there are witches and wizards in your kingdom as well but kept it hidden." You explained as you remove the fairy ring. Jisung wowed at the magic you pulled while Mark was shook you actually have magic.

You walk towards them before you reached your palm out. The urge to see the bottle of the poison curious you. You feel like you know something that might lead you to the real criminal.

"Can I see the bottle?" You asked and Jeno handed it to you by the neck of the bottle. Your brows furrowed at the sight of the familiar bottle.

"It's woman but definitely not a witch," you returned the bottle. You look by the trees where you saw Renjun watching. You walked by one of the tall trees and knocked on the wood.

"Elf Yeonjun? Yeonjun, are you there?" You said and Yeonjun popped his head out of the small hole. Jeno and Jisung stood there, shocked.

"Yeonjun, do you know where this bottle came from?" Mark asked and showed the small elf the bottle. Immediately, Yeonjun examines the bottle and he nods his head.

"It's a bottle that belonged to the Potionmaker," Yeonjun said as you thanked the elf before he went back to his hole.

"The criminal is a woman but I don't think she's the one who brewed the potion. Anyway, for now, can you clear Mark's name?" You asked and Mark immediately held your hand.

"Clearing my name means coming back to the castle. I don't want to leave you here," Mark said with a sad face. You chuckled and kissed his lips,

"I will be alright, go back home, Mark."

You bid goodbye to the Potionmaker of the woods. His sweet and confused smile stayed on his lips after his explanation of the bottle. The bottle belonged to him but he doesn't remember brewing poison as he swore to never brew one.

It has been days since you saw Mark. You missed his cheerful voice and his loud laughs. You return back to the cabin and laughed when you saw the young fairies playing chase.

You halted your steps when you saw the familiar figure in the kitchen. You dropped the basket and hopped onto his back. He cackled a laugh,

"Missed your prince too much?" He asked and you moved to hug him from the front.

"Far too much..."

"Jeno has settled in with his significant other and he will be coronated as king soon. The king is alright with me living with my love," Mark said and you immediately connected your lips.

Mark smiled and pulled you closer to him.

"I love you, my prince," you whispered and he laughed.

"I was this accused criminal who fell in love with a half fairy. I love you too, my fairy."

[jaskierswolf]

Fuck Indeed - Pt. 3/4

OnlyFans - Geraskier AU

Previous - AO3

CW (for whole story- Although this chapter is smutless!): 18+ only, anal sex, masturbation, exhibition kink, sex work, rimming, sex toys, talks of blow jobs, Geralt bottoms but it’s mentioned they switch, biting (but no blood), Jaskier wearing lingerie and makeup.

It was three months into Jaskier’s new job online and it was going well! He’d gained more subscribers than he’d ever thought was possible, and quickly too. He was proud of himself, if one was allowed to be proud about wanking in front of a camera, although he couldn’t help the niggle of doubt in the back of his mind. That annoying little voice that told him he wasn’t allowed to have that many subscribers and that he was a fraud. One day he’d wake up and they’d all be gone, but every morning he woke up and there were just…. more?

It was utter nonsense, but he was having the best time!

The White Wolf was still a favourite of his, and his videos were just getting better and better, which just wasn’t fair. Jaskier’s heart just couldn’t take it, and his dick wasn’t doing much better. Wolf was often the, umm, inspiration for Jaskier’s videos, which was blurring some lines that really shouldn’t be blurred.

Jaskier thought back to Wolf’s bottoming video. At one point it had sounded like he almost said “Dandelion” before the word was muffled by his hand. Jaskier must have watched that video a hundred times, before he’d told himself he was being silly. Yes, Wolf was also subscribed to his channel but they’d never spoken. Jaskier had thought about DMing him a couple of times, perhaps if they were local then they could film a video together.

It was nothing but a pipe dream, and it would never happen.

And anyway, tonight wasn’t about that. He had a gig! Like an actual, using a guitar not a dildo, gig. It wasn’t much, he wouldn’t even be getting paid. Ok so it was less of a gig, and more of an open mic night… but he was excited! It would be good to play again, to have an audience he could actually see.

He stepped into the bar, stinking of sweat and booze as they so often did, and he grinned. He loved bars, they were grimy in the best way! The atmosphere was just brilliant. You couldn’t get it anywhere else, and these were real people with real stories to tell. It was what kept him coming back. Honestly, the songs he’d written just from listening to people in these godforsaken places. It was a gold mine.

Last week, for example, he’d met a rather terrifying, gorgeous woman. She’d had violet eyes and smelled like lilac and gooseberries, with long raven black hair that fell down her back. She looked like something out of a fantasy game, Skyrim or the likes, so naturally Jaskier had strolled right up to her to get the details. She’d been utterly fascinating, a biting wit to match his own and he’d practically run home to write a song about her, well… after he’d been told that there was absolutely no chance in hell that they would sleep together, but one couldn’t blame him for trying.

He grinned, perhaps she would be here again tonight. He enjoyed a good flirt and she’d been fun to hang out with after his performance. She’d also had excellent taste in wine.

“Jaskier,” a silky smooth voice called and he spun round, gripping the straps of his guitar case.

“Yennefer,” he greeted “I wasn’t expecting to see you here again.”

Yennefer snorted. “I’m not here for you, buttercup. My friend, however…” she nodded to a booth to Jaskier’s left.

He frowned and followed his gaze. His jaw dropped when he saw the shock of silver hair. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

But it couldn’t possibly be him. No. No, no, no. Jaskier was just a little infatuated, seeing him in places where he simply wasn’t. He was sure lots of people had long silver hair and were built like fucking gods.

“Problem?” Yennefer asked, smirking at him, and fuck it was like she could read his fucking mind.

“Oh ho, no… no problem. There’s no problem. I just… I thought I recognised him, but I’m mistaken,” Jaskier rambled, tapping out fingerings on his guitar strap to try and calm himself down.

Shit.

Did he have a Pavlovian response to silver hair now?

No. It was more than that, it was in the way he was built, the line of his jaw. “What’s his name?” Jaskier asked, aiming for nonchalance but failing miserably.

“Ask him yourself,” Yennefer said with a laugh and then went off to the bar, leaving Jaskier alone in the middle of the room with just his guitar for company.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. “Come on, Jask,” he muttered. “It’s not him, get over it.”

He nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet a couple of times before heading over to the stage instead. He was being a coward, but he needed a drink first and his performance was scheduled soon. If he played well, he’d get a drink on the house and he really could do with that right now, although his wallet wasn’t quite as empty as it once was.

He channeled his nerves into his performance, using that energy to pour his soul into every note. The audience were entranced, he could feel it, pride bubbling up in his chest, he was able to open his eyes and bask in the attention, letting the music flow from him like a river into the sea. His gaze drifted over to the booth where Yennefer’s friend had been sitting but it was empty.

His voice wavered slightly as he bit back the disappointment.

Fuck, another missed opportunity. He tore his gaze away and smiled at his audience, winking at a pretty blonde by the bar, and then smirking at Yennefer. She had her arms around a gorgeous brunette, almost a tall as he was, wearing red flannel and black jeans.

And then he saw him.

Standing right at the corner of the stage.

It was Wolf, it had to be. Jaskier knew those lips. He knew that jaw. He knew the soft wave of his hair. He almost dropped his guitar and he forgot to sing for a couple of beats but he was a professional, sort of, and managed to pick it up to finish the last few lines of the song. He quickly thanked the crowd, dropping his head in a barely visible bow and then he jumped off the stage. He grabbed Wolf’s arm and started to pull him back to the more isolated booth at the back of the bar.

“Get off!” Wolf growled in that low sexy voice that had Jaskier’s heart thumping in his chest.

“The booth is more private, Wolf,” Jaskier snapped back. “Or do you want the whole bar to know?”

That shut him up.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. He should have known that Wolf was a man of very little words, he barely spoke to the camera when he was being paid to perform, why would he bother free of charge. “Eloquent as always, darling.”

Wolf stiffened at that word, skidding to a halt. Jaskier turned around, both hands on his hips. “Wolf, please, let us have a little privacy.”

“Right, yes,” he mumbled, and was he blushing?

Jaskier smirked and then licked his lips, he supposed he did use that particular term of endearment in his videos quite a lot… and Wolf did watch his videos. Jaskier filed that information away for later, perhaps his dream of a collaboration could actually become a reality. He willed that glow of hope to go away. He didn’t want to set himself up for disappointment, but fuck… Wolf was even prettier in real life.

Were his eyes honestly that golden, or was it just a trick of the light?

Jaskier could write sonnets about those eyes, like honey, like molten gold, gorgeous amber eyes…

Oh fuck… perhaps it was a little more than an infatuation. He had always fallen in love a little quickly, but this was really taking the biscuit. Wolf grunted as he fell into his seat. Jaskier slid in opposite him, planting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands.

“You watch my videos,” he purred, his eyes dropping to Wolf’s lips.

“It’s research,” Wolf growled.

Jaskier laughed, “Oh really?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s why you were watching my performance so intently?” Jaskier asked, tilting his head.

“You have more subscribers than I do,” Wolf leant in, in a way that was probably supposed to be threatening but Jaskier… well… he was getting hard already. It probably didn’t help that he’d seen this man cum in so many ways already. “Do you know how frustrating that is? I’ve been doing this for longer than you, and then you just swan in looking all pretty.”

Jaskier frowned. Wolf seemed angry at him? Of all the things he’d imagined… this hadn’t been one of them. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and sat back at little. “Well I’d have one less if you unsubscribed,” he muttered, the words sounding bitter on his tongue. “Fuck you, Wolf.”

“Geralt.”

“What?”

“My name. Is Geralt,” Geralt growled. “Not Wolf.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “You do know I watch your videos?” Geralt nodded. “And you don’t even show us your quite frankly gorgeous face?”

“So?”

“Is Geralt your real name?” Jaskier said, biting his lip, not sure whether he was flirting or just anxious. It was probably both.

“Fuck.”

“I’m Jaskier,” Jaskier said softly, a peace offering of sorts “A name for a name?”

“Jaskier?” Geralt snorted.

“Oh fine!” Jaskier through his hands up. “You got me, it’s Julian, but no one calls me that. So Jaskier is my name, Dandelion is my stage name.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier pouted and leant back forward onto the table, catching a lock of Geralt’s hair in his fingers. “I recognised your hair first, it’s really quite unique.”

“Don’t touch me,” Geralt grumbled but didn’t move away, face still flushed.

“Are you really mad that I have more subscribers?” Jaskier asked, licking his lips as he dropped his hand away from Geralt’s hair. “Perhaps I could help?”

Geralt narrowed his eyes at him. “How?”

“Well, individually we are good, right?” Geralt nodded. “So together… we could be unstoppable.”

He watched Geralt’s face carefully as he processed Jaskier’s suggestion. At one point Geralt seemed like he was about to decline, and Jaskier steeled himself, ready for rejection, but it never came. “Alright.”

Jaskier sat back, surprised by his success. “Wait, what? Really?”

“It’s a good idea.”

“Well, yeah, it’s a fantastic idea! but I didn’t think you’d agree. Honestly, I was just hoping for a quickie in the bathroom at the very least,” Jaskier admitted, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t like losing.”
 “Right, yes well… Do you want my number? Easier to umm.. well. You know, organise this…” he gestured between them.

Holy mother of fuck, they were actually doing this. Jaskier was actually doing this… and Geralt, his Wolf, had agreed. Now Jaskier just had to keep his pesky feelings in check and everything would be Dandy!

Fuck.

_______

Next

[dhwty-writes]

Dreams

Merry Christmas, everyone! This is my contribution for the @thewitchersecretsanta for @heyabooboo on tumblr.

My thanks also go to @contemplativepancakes, who betaed this fic for me. Thank you for your patience while I was still writing this <3 You guys should also definitely go check out her work, I love it to pieces!

Anyways, I shouldn't bore you too much. Let me just say one last thing: I think this is the most well thought-out piece of fiction I have written in my entire life. I have weighed every words of this five times at least. I hope you guys like it.

Have fun reading!

Summary: Geralt takes on a contract to investigate some spectral activity in a haunted ruin. As it happens, he disturbs the residence of a powerful being, that traps his soul in a nefarious netherworld. Jaskier, local bard with no sense of self preservation, does the obvious and follows him, trying to parse information from talking plants and braving unspeakable horrors in order to bargain for his witcher's soul. If only that were as easy as it sounded.

Moodboard by the amazing @petrificustotaluss

Warnings: Rated T. Canon-typical violence

Read on AO3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

It was a serene and sunny day when the witcher scaled the hill to the abandoned mansion. It shouldn't have been, by any rights; neither day nor sunshine quite set the scene for a monster hunter to come slay to his prey. Alas, Weather does what they want rather than what they should—most of the time they are too busy laughing at humans they catch by surprise, to notice another one of their storms escaping anyways— and neither of that is to set a picturesque scene for a murder to take place.

Well, not necessarily a murder; that might, admittedly, be a bit crass. An eviction, rather, though the witcher did know yet that was what he was about to do. He simply marched up there, convinced that he would do some light reconnaissance and then return to the bard he had left behind. He was so adamant in his conviction, even, that he simply couldn't imagine anything else.

Geralt of Rivia slid from his saddle and pat Roach on the side of her neck. "Good girl," he muttered as he tied her reins to the withered remains of a tree on a field of dried grass. 

He stepped back to retrieve his sword from her saddle and heard the telltale sign of a dried-up flower crushed beneath his boot. Geralt lifted it. It was a dandelion. He cursed internally. Were he a superstitious man, he might’ve thought it a bad sign. He wasn’t, though, so he knew it to be a bad sign.

Nothing good ever came from places where not even weeds could stubbornly cling to life. It usually meant that nothing would stay alive—or dead— for very long either. He'd have to be fast. 'A quick look around and I can go back to Jaskier,' he promised himself, the only silver lining on the horizon of this shitty day. 

With a grunt he went to the road that led towards the ruin looming up above him, taking in every detail of his surroundings. The tree Roach was tied to seemed to have belonged to a grove, considering how systematically the husks of the trees were arranged. 'Like gnarled fingers trying to reach for the sky.'

Geralt huffed. Jaskier was rubbing off on him again. The collapsed stone wall lining it was another strong indicator that once there had been someone tending to the woods. 'A cemetery?' he wondered. It might be a strong start...

He stepped past the large erratic to his left to vault over the crumbling wall. He had barely taken two steps when a dark shadow fell over him. He looked up to see the sun inching closer and closer to the horizon. A shiver ran down Geralt's back. ‘So late already?’ He had barely set out an hour ago, he was sure of it. And yet— something moved to his right and his medallion vibrated. “Fuck,” he cursed. He didn’t like this at all. 

Still, he had come here for a reason, so he turned away from the deserted grove and headed to the ruin. It wasn’t a large ruin, by any means, barely three walls standing. The first floor was completely decayed, so he didn’t have to check that, at least. In less than an hour he’d be done. 

That didn’t alleviate the uneasy feeling in the slightest. With each step it seemed like the temperatures dropped further. By the time he reached the facade his breaths were visible in white clouds, mingling with the fog drifting up from the ground. The weather was changing entirely too fast for his liking.

Slowly, Geralt stepped over the threshold into the broken mansion. He kept his eyes on the fog the whole time. The tendrils were thicker now, larger than any snake he'd ever seen as they slithered across the rotten floor. 'I should turn around,' he thought. He knew he should turn around. Still, he kept moving further into the mist.

A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. His head snapped around. One of the wisps rose above the ground, twisting and twirling to a melody he couldn't hear. "The fuck," Geralt grunted and reached for his sword. 

He regretted taking the contract already. It was a fool's errand, and he had known it to be. But coin was scarce these days and he had to make do. Even if it meant investigating haunted ruins that made his medallion nearly jump off his chest.

The shrill sound of rusty door-hinges made him twirl around. He was met with an inscrutable wall of fog. "Shit." His sword was in his hand before he could even think about it. A gentle gust of wind swept through the ruin, as if the air itself around him heaved a breath of relief. 'I have to get out of here.'

He turned towards where he had entered and bolted; not quite running, but almost. He hit the wall face-first. "Fuck!" he cursed, holding his bleeding nose.

An all-too-familiar laugh rang through the silence. "Fuckin' idiot!"

"Lambert?" he groaned as he raised his hands to set his own nose. It hurt like a bitch.

"Who else, you bastard?" his arsehole brother answered.

"Where are you?" Geralt wanted to know, feeling blindly for his sword. 'Fuck.' Why had he dropped it? It had been stupid to drop it. He knew better than that. He was a witcher, for fuck’s sake.

"Right behind you!" Lambert laughed again. He was probably within a punchable distance.

Geralt found the grip of his sword and whirled around, coming face to face with... fog. Nothing but fog. "Lambert?" he asked, desperately. No answer. "Lambert!" He waved his hand, a futile attempt to disperse the mist, and squinted, as if that would do anything. Of course, it didn't.

There is something to be said about the eyesight of mortals, and that is that every single one of them possesses a truly despicable one. So, it shouldn't come as a surprise that when the witcher blinked and tried to focus his vision, he did not see anything he hadn't seen before; which was nothing at all.

A quiet groan rippled through the dark, and Geralt stumbled forward before he even knew what he was doing. "Eskel," he gasped desperately, trying to follow the ragged breathing. He’d know that sound everywhere, he had heard it far too often already. "Eskel, where are you, I'm coming," he promised, while the maddening mantra of 'I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't.' kept fluttering through his head. He knew exactly what he would find, Eskel with his face slashed open, bleeding and barely breathing. 'I can't do it again, I can't, I can't, I can't.'

"No!" the high-pitched shriek made him halt in his stumbling, nearly doubling over. "Get out!"

"Yenna," he breathed. He vaguely realised that the world was spinning around him and fought the instinct to throw up.

"No, help!" she screamed again.

"Yennefer!" he shouted in response. "Where are you?"

A woeful giggle swept past him, one that might've belonged to a child or a giant or something else entirely.

"Did I not train you well?" a weak voice, that barely sounded like Vesemir, coughed. "Is your sword your only weapon?"

"N-no," he stammered and raised his trembling hand. He willed his fingers to bend; each movement was pure agony. After half an eternity his hand formed the sign of Aard and the fog dispersed.

Never in his life had he regretted anything more. "No-" he choked out weakly as his knees hit the blood-slick floor. "No!" He could barely comprehend what lay before him, only that they were dead dead dead, all of them, gone, dead, their blood soaking him to the bone.

"What happened?" he whispered, whimpered, wailed. There was an uncomfortable feeling coiling in his gut. It was something important, he knew. Something he should do. Somewhere he should go. Someone he still missed. But whatever it was, there was a thick fog clouding his mind that he could not see through. 

"You failed me," Yennefer answered, rising from her last resting-place. With each movement her broken bones popped back into place. But there was nothing to be done about her torn-up chest; nothing to be done about her empty eyes, picked clean by the crows long ago, full of accusations.

"And me," Eskel agreed, blood trickling from the gashes on his face. And his legs. And his arms. And his guts. There was not much to trickle left.

"And me," said Lambert's head where it lay inches from his torso. Two swords protruded from his body, one silver and one steel. They had stripped him naked save for the medallion around his neck, a snarling cat where there should have been a wolf.

"You failed all of us," Vesemir rasped, lying limp on his deathbed. After months of sickness and starvation, he could count every bone on his body. But it was the garrotte that had been his end.

"Who did this?" he gasped.

"You did," they answered in unison.

"Me?"

A shadow giggled and caressed his cheek. "Of course, you," a velvety voice answered. "It’s what you do. Butcher. Hunter. Priest. You brought war to my peace."

He groaned quietly, desperate to lean into the touch. When he did, he nearly toppled over. He caught himself inches from the ground. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. "Who are you?"

"Who am I? That answer's not yet due," the strange voice answered; wisps of fog danced, curled together, formed what might have been a body. "The real query is: who are you?"

"I-" He inhaled sharply as realisation hit him. "I'm- missing someone."

"Missing someone, are we?" The shadow giggled. "Pray tell, who might that be?"

He did not want to answer. He didn't. Still, he said: "Where's- Jaskier!" Fear closed its icy fist around his heart. True fear, that was paralyzing, numbing, horrible. He wanted to do something, wanted to— he didn’t know. His hands were shaking too much.  

"Geralt!" a bard’s piercing scream ripped through the eerie silence.

The sinister giggle rang again; a wisp of fog caressed his shoulder. Suddenly, there was light. So much light, it was overwhelming after the all-encompassing darkness of the fog. He screamed in pain, trying to avert his gaze, trying to flee— but he couldn’t. 

"There you are," a smile spread on what might’ve been the creature’s face as they bent down, their mouth dragging across the shell of his ear, "Geralt."

[daybreak-academy-fanfic]

[Kingdom Hearts] Pinkie Swear

Summary: Written for @khuxweek, in which a day before the War, Brain takes Sabrina (OC) someplace special.

Rating: K

Word Count: 1,931 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

There are very few times when I can look at a fellow Keyblade wielder and think 'Yes, this one has a heart so strong, they could move mountains one day.' I felt that way with each of my fellow Union leaders when I met them. Even Ventus who, even then, felt like an anomaly but still had promise of something greater. It was one of these few people I was actually close with before the Keyblade War. Her name was Sabrina- which apparently meant princess. Go figure.

. . .

The air was filled with electricity in the days leading up to the Keyblade War. After Ava gave her speech (one that no one had really expected, let alone how serious she was during it), the youngest of the Dandelions in both age and recruitment started to get antsy. Except for her. Brain wasn't able to see her during training much because Ava frequently helped the newer recruits than those who had been there for awhile. He wasn't one of the first Dandelions- but he could remember when he could recognize a face or two if they crossed paths during regular missions. Now there were so many Dandelions that he couldn't pick them out on a normal day without some help.

When Ava disappeared, the Dandelions were beside themselves. Should they still train? Should they go to the promised place to depart now too? Some still came to Fountain Square to train with each other. Others continued with their missions as already set by their Union leader, becoming invisible in crowds. If the line between who was and wasn't a Dandelion hadn't been blurred before, it was nonexistent then. Brain was one of the Dandelions that skipped out on coming to train in Fountain Square. Instead, he'd pester Sabrina into going somewhere else where they trained together. To say it caused a small conflict in the constantly disagreeable girl was a bit of an understatement.

“What if Master Ava comes back?” she once asked him as she attempted to side swipe him with her Keyblade. He dodged it without a problem. His hat was a bit askew, but she gave him time to adjust it. “She meets with the Dandelions like normal and finds that all of them ditched her.”

“Not going to happen.” Brain assured her with a shake of his head. He took his Keyblade with both hands before rushing at her. Sabrina leaped out of the way, then parried his attempt to get her from behind. “Master Ava would tell us to resume Dandelion training if she comes back.”

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. “If?”

Brain gave a soft chuckle. Of course Sabrina would be able to read between the lines. She was good at that. Master Invi couldn't have asked for a smarter member of her Union. Brain took firm hold of his Keyblade again to attempt a front attack. Sabrina also saw that coming- their Keyblades letting out a loud clang when they connected. Brain didn't let up. Instead he pressed their Keyblades close enough to each other that he could have tilted his head to touch her forehead.

“You're smart.” he told her. “Do you really think we'll see Master Ava again before the war?”

There was a small, subtle twitch in the corner of the girl's mouth that illustrated she did not. Seeing it, Brain finally let up. He even put away his Keyblade- an act that surprised Sabrina a good degree.

“I think we've had enough training for today,” he then told her, “How about we take a break and go for a walk. It's a nice day today.”

Sabrina recoiled. Brain was trying to make it less obvious that his mind was on something else. That constant fidgeting of his fedora was a dead giveaway. The girl had known the other boy for, what? A good six months? She could tell when he was hiding something from her, as little as it happened so far. Sabrina parted her lips a little to say something, but shook her head.

“Fine.” she agreed with a flick of her wrist. “It better not be someplace dumb like Fountain Square or Agrabah. I've had enough sand in my shoes to last a lifetime, thank you.”

Brain couldn't help it, but he gave her a wide smile.

. . .

As far as I knew, I was an only child. I always saw the younger wielders as equal peers than subconsciously channeling some kind of lost 'big brother' instinct. That was the funny thing about Sabrina- she was the first wielder to actually make me want to protect them more than just an equal partner. I'd tease her about wielders that seemed flustered by her growing beauty. We'd eat lunches together and promise to meet up after missions to relax. More than once we'd sit on a bench, watching the sunset, and that girl would lay on me to safely drift off to sleep. We had keys to each other's houses too. It wasn't until far later (and far too late) that I realized we weren't friends; we were family.

. . .

“You're going to hurt yourself.”

“Haven't yet. So if you'd like, let me just break my neck in peace.” There was a pause, then the prudent addition of, “You're not in charge of me.”

Brain let out another laugh. He tried to hide how much he was keeping an eye on her by adjusting his fedora every so often. Walking along the high stone fence was an act of defiance and proof of how balanced Sabrina thought herself to be. Did that stop Brain from being ready in case she tripped? Of course not. Why would it?

“Where are we going anyway?” Sabrina questioned as she looked at her own steps than Brain himself.

“How do you know we're not going to fight some Heartless?” Brain asked right back.

“Because you're usually more protective if we were. Fussing around with elixirs and potions and stuff. Especially if you think that it's going to be a big one.”

Brain was quick to hold the rim of his fedora a bit lower over his face. “I'm not that bad.”

“Sure, sure.” the girl shrugged off. And so she remained on the fence as they continued to walk along. It was quite awhile before they reached the end of it- while also being quite close to where Brain wanted to take them.

“I dare you to flip off.” Brain smirked as Sabrina stood with her toes to the end of the fence. For a moment, you could see the child consider doing just that.

“Nah.” Sabrina said with a shake of her head. Instead, she hopped down- making sure that she bent her knees to lessen the impact. Even if it wasn’t the flair Brain had teased her on, it was still a bit presumptuous in its own way.

“Come on,” he laughed, “We’re almost there.”

Sabrina gave a nod as she followed him. It was a silent walk for the rest of the way, not that either of them really minded. They finally reached their destination with ease; a field that overlooked most of Daybreak Town. This particular area having a cherry blossom tree growing near the ledge with its roots exposed on the cliffside. Sabrina was quick to lean against the tree before sliding down to sit. Brain took a spot next to her, but remained standing. A warm breeze kissed their skin as they relaxed in the tree’s shade. It was beautiful. Memorable, even. But it was here that Brain had to tell Sabrina something important.

“The war is going to happen soon.”

Sabrina blinked, then looked up at Brain with a look of displeasure. “How do you know?” she questioned.

“Master Ava told me.” he replied without looking at her.

“Liar.”

Brain looked down and smiled at her “It’s true! Swear on my life, Wabi-Sabi.”

He had expected her little grunt of doubt.

“Even if I believed you, what does that have to do with anything?” the child then spat as she crossed her arms.

“I want us to make a promise.” he then said, taking a seat next to her. “A blood pact, if you will.”

Sabrina gave him something that crossed a stink eye and a glare. “What are you talking about?” she questioned, even scrunching her nose up.

“Since I know the Keyblade War is coming, and you know the Keyblade War is coming, then let's promise to meet up after.” he offered. He nudged her a bit to say, “We'll meet up where we usually do. Assuming Daybreak Town made it through the end. Deal?”

“And where are we meeting if Daybreak Town doesn't survive, smarty pants?”

“Our Chirithy will figure it out.” Brain playfully shrugged. “They'll still be with us, and they can go pretty far without us too, so it shouldn't be a problem.”

The girl gave him a small raise of her eyebrow before considering his offer. As she thought it over though, the more her face started to fall into one of conflict.

“Are you really sure that it’s going to happen?”

“I would never lie about this, Sabrina. You know I wouldn’t.”

Sabrina looked up at Brain. His sincere, almost scared, face caused a lump to form in her throat. He wasn’t teasing this time. He meant every word that he was saying. Making up her mind, Sabrina sat a bit straighter before holding up her pinkie finger.

“Pinkie swear.” she told him- her voice filled with authority.

For a moment, Brain just stared at her. Then a smile started to form on his lips. He brought up his own pinkie to link with hers, and after the two gave each other an affirming nod, Sabrina launched herself at Brain to give him a tight hug. The gesture had been completely unexpected, but he didn’t oppose it. Instead, he held her tight as neither wanted to let go.

. . .

I never really read the Book of Prophecies that Master Ava gave me before Darkness started to meddle with our new world. Or rather, show itself while we tried to figure out why we were in a digital Daybreak Town than the real one. It took me a greater part of a day to read through it. At least, it took me a day to go through the pages that detailed various enemies from the past, future, and now present. Everything else in the Book? Well, I wouldn't call it useless. At the same time, I wouldn't call it helpful either. The Master of Masters had written the Book in ways that spoke of ambiguity and a less than set in stone mentality. One part of the Book could have changed, and the rest could be rendered moot.

She wasn't in there. Strelitzia was never brought up too. What will become of my fellow Union leaders -my friends- is just as uncertain. There are small sections where I believe they are mentioned, but the wording of the Book… It's not obvious. It would take another generation to decipher just who or what it is referencing to begin with. If that.

I just want to know where she is. I need to know if she, like Streltizia, met a poor fate before the war. We're just kids. We all were. I just… I just want her to be safe. She's my little sister. She's the only family I've known. At the same time, I fear giving in to the same heartbroken rage that Lauriam is struggling against. Just… let her be safe. That's all I ask… Please.

[notquitejiraiya]

ShikaTema Week || Day 1 ~ Camaraderie

So this is my first (and maybe only) contribution to ShikaTema Week 2020. It’s very stupid, but hope you all enjoy!

Summary: Another year, another quiz final for Konoha, but their team captain's mind is on more than just answering general knowledge questions.

(4660 words)

Read here on AO3

ANSWERS

The uniform was itchy and the collar latched on to his stubble like velcro to a sweater. Shikamaru scratched at his chin halfheartedly, knowing better than to irritate it so early on in the day. After all, he still had hours left trapped in the damned thing—there were hours to be spent under studio lights in a makeshift auditorium, and he could do without being caught with a rash on television, or else he might get another call from his mother badgering him to take better care of himself. Granted, common sense hadn’t always been his forte and he probably ought to have listened, but after three years living alone at university Shikamaru was convinced he knew enough life skills to deal with a rash from a shirt. If he hadn’t died from scurvy or alcohol poisoning yet, chances were he was set, and he was clearly still standing.

Well, sitting; sat on a mound of grass outside some studio he’d become all too familiar with the last few years, lighting up his fifth cigarette of the morning. This is what my mother should grill me about, he grumbled to himself as he tucked the lighter away in his pocket. He knew he should quit, and he would if it didn’t settle his brain so adequately. People often seemed to forget that for one to have an IQ like he did, it came with a number of somewhat irritating side effects. One of those was the inability to shut everything off when it wasn’t important, but his teenage years had opened Shikamaru’s eyes to nicotine, and to easing the stressful whirring of information that slightest bit.

That’s why today of all days, as he waited to answer quick fire questions, Shikamaru wanted desperately for his mind to feel calm. Three years running he had come here, sat in this stupid, itchy uniform, and answered general knowledge questions for the sake of his university’s pride. He could barely even remember how he’d got roped into being part of the team in the first place, much less how he’d ended up being team captain last year. But, as he always did, Shikamaru just went with it, unbothered by the outcome in a hope to just get everyone to get off his damn back.

They’d won last year, and they’d won the year before. He thought that would’ve been enough for Ino, who’d dragged him on the team in the first place, but she was still itching for another win. Honestly, Shikamaru wished she was the captain; that way she would have to do the introduction to the camera, to the host—she did everything there was to do off-camera anyway, it’s not like it would’ve been hard for her.

But, really, when he thought about it, it was obvious why he held the position he did. With a mind and memory like his, it only made sense for decisions to fall to him, and him being team captain had, at least last year, won Konoha the title.

Though he didn’t understand the need for glory, he could at least logically see why both Ino and Choji had stood by their decision for him to front the team.

Still, it wasn’t half troublesome.

Shikamaru took a long drag as he kicked at a dandelion, the seeds flying everywhere. “One more an it’s all over,” he muttered to himself. “Teamwork, Nara. You can do teamwork easy.”

But it wasn’t easy at all; not when they were up against Suna like they were last year. He’d never seen a team so well-suited to one another as those three, and their reflexes were sharper than Shikamaru’s probably ever could be. The day he’d discovered they were siblings, he hadn’t even batted an eyelid—it all just suddenly made sense. They had that brutal and artsy one with the make-up, ‘war paint’ Shikamaru had heard him call it once, and the deadly silent one with the red hair whose deep voice didn’t even begin to match his bright eyes—those two alone were a force to be reckoned with, but they had nothing on her.

He had been almost certain they would lose that day Konoha had come up against them last year, and it was all down to that woman. She was so well rounded in her knowledge, and so sure of herself in all of her exclamations, that she seemed to control the entire operation on her own, manipulating it to her own advantage somehow. The woman was unstoppable in every sense of the word.

Except Konoha hadn’t lost, and that was down to her.

While it made him chuckle to think of the spectacular failure that had been her performance last year, he couldn’t help feeling awash with pity. He’d seen the look in her eyes as they walked out, that impossibly angry glint that just screamed out to him. As much as he didn’t understand her anguish, he couldn’t help feeling he’d deprived her of something she desperately wanted—no, more than that; something she deserved.

All along he’d wanted nothing more than to leave, and he felt no gratification for having won. So as they’d waited at the taxi rank later that afternoon and he’d spotted her, he’d been unable to stop himself walking up to her, ready to apologise for having torn away from her something that had seemingly mattered. But, before he was even able to open his mouth, she’d scowled at him and barged his shoulder as she pushed past. “If you’ve come to gloat, Nara, you can go fuck yourself,” she had spat under her breath, and his heart sank instantly at the way she’d, not only known, but his name so bitterly.

In the moment she walked away he felt something shift inside his mind; a lack of understanding so destructive he barely knew how to function. His teammates had bundled him a taxi cab with his eyes still focused on those blonde ponytails, trying as hard as he could to catch her eye again and understand why she cared so much about something so fucking pointless as this. However, no such revelation had clicked, and Shikamaru had spent the best part of the last year wondering what he’d say to her if they came face to face again.

He’d tried to reason with himself that she wouldn’t return—after all, who would actively return after embarrassingly themselves in such a way on television? It seemed cruel to even think about, and Shikamaru knew if the shoe was on the other foot he’d never want to set foot near even a pub-quiz again.

Still, something in him knew she’d be back, and that’s why his brain couldn’t buzzing with the millions of reasons for what might happen. If it mattered to her this much, she wouldn’t be able to stay away—he was sure of that—and though he barely knew her, Shikamaru was sure she wouldn’t be one to give up.

Such notions only played further on his mind until he stopped thinking of the competition and resorted to thinking exclusively of her; her smart dress, the obscure shade of her eyes, the sharp and mischievous tone with which she shot back answers. He couldn’t stop imagining her face, and what those snarling lips he’d seen might look like curved up into a smile. Shikamaru realise, for his own peace of mind, if he did see her again he had to ask her questions, and he had to see if she could smile.

Despite his intellect and despite the time frame, his many hours spent awake at night were fruitless. With each new round he’d spent every minute thinking about whether the team would face Suna, and imagined looking into those gorgeously ruthless eyes asking why and how in so many different ways. Yet now here he was; less than an hour from the starting buzzer and he’d thought of nothing at all.

“Useless,” he scolded under his breath, tapping away the ash of his cigarette as he tried to ground himself in the present once more. “You’re fucking useless.”

“Yes, you are.”

He froze. Oh, God. Not yet.

“So, you’re on the Konoha team again.”

Shikamaru looked up only to be met by a vicious scowl. “I knew it,” he scoffed, hating himself for the way his tone narrowed her teal eyes further. “You came back.”

“Of course I came back—I’m Suna’s fucking captain!” She sounded proud as she stepped around him, too proud to be genuine, and Shikamaru felt his lips purse tightly.

He shrugged, raising his arms defensively. “I’m sorry but I wouldn’t have come back,” he reasoned. Her eyes flashed a most dangerous, fiery glare, and Shikamaru realised instantly that she thought he was playing with her. Whilst he desperately wanted to insist his intentions were merely an attempt to be honest and kind, with every step she took around him and every inch further back he craned his neck, Shikamaru could see that plan working out less and less. Instead, he chose what he assumed was the path of least resistance—the easiest route for him to take.

Forcing a smile, Shikamaru brought his cigarette to his lips. “Remind me of your name?”

She scoffed, raising her eyebrows as she folded her arms tightly beneath her chest.

“Come on, woman.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Temari,” she growled.

“Surname?”

“You don’t deserve that.”

“Well, Temari,” he chuckled, his smile becoming ever more real the more he saw her features contort, “after the mess you made last year I wondered if they might’ve sacked you.”

“I’m not a quitter.”

“Never said you were—you couldn’t seem any further from a quitter if you tried.”

Temari smirked, kicking at the grass. “Unlike yourself.”

“Touché,” nodded Shikamaru. “Anyway, clearly you’re still such an asset to the team that your brothers can live without getting the answers right.”

He could see her snarling, and he could feel himself getting a kick out of it. Never before had he been so spiteful and enjoyed it—he didn’t feel like himself. Except all of a sudden, through her curled up lips, a smirk broke through, and he could see the shift—the sudden amusement as she said, “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Nara.”

God, how he loved the way his name fell from her tongue in a drawl. “Could you remind me, Temari: what is the oldest country in the world?”

He could see her squirm at the memory, but somehow that didn’t stop Temari squinting dramatically as her jaw clenched. “San Marino,” she spat.

The cigarette poised between his lips, and an obnoxious glint in his eye, Shikamaru smirked at her. “Funny you say that,” he chuckled. “I could’ve sworn you said Jerusalem last time that question was asked.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I know.” Shikamaru tapped away the ash and lay back on the grass, staring up at her. “But I thought it would be a good idea for you to check if you remembered that Jerusalem isn’t even a country, love.”

Temari snorted. “Ah, so you’re ‘helping’ me?”

“You could say so, yeah,” he told her, his snarky expression softening with every word. “Although, I’m sure you know more than my whole team do combined.”

Carefully she sat down a metre or so in front of him, and Shikamaru propped himself up on one elbow to secure a better look at him. Her eyebrows raised from their frown in surprise. “After three years on that team you still have no sense of camaraderie, do you?”

“And by that you mean?”

“You have no faith in your team-mates.”

“Oh, I have faith. I just know you’re a forced to be reckoned with.” Shikamaru smiled and took a drag, locking eyes with her. It was unnerving to see the way she looked at him with something so close to a genuine smile on her face, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t cherishing every moment of it. Nervously, he tugged the collar of his itchy uniform away from his neck and let out a great sigh, prompting her brows to furrow once more when.

“What?”

Shikamaru shrugged. “You deserved to win last year.”

Temari shook her head.

“You did.”

“I thought Jerusalem was a country, and I didn’t even know the answer, Nara,” she mumbled, picking at the daisies amongst the green. “I did not ‘deserve to win’ at all.”

“No,” he chuckled, “I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe for one second you didn’t know the answer.”

Temari’s eyebrows bunched together tighter, and she crawled a little closer, coming up beside him. “Why?”

Without hesitation, Shikamaru broke into a grin, laughing as he shook his head. “Because you’re a fucking powerhouse, that’s why. You’re terrifying, woman.”

And then it happened—a smile spread across her face as he’d hoped to see for months, and it was everything he’d hoped for. The corners of her eyes crinkled up, her top lip twitching with the tension, and she nodded slowly. A small laugh escaped her throat, too, as she examined another daisy between her fingertips, and for a moment she looked delicate. Shikamaru could barely wrap his head around the idea that a woman he’d only seen stoic and snarky at best could harbour such a softness, not to mention that such softness could be brought about by such a strange compliment. However, it had been so true: he was terrified of her. She had caused him so much trouble ever since he’d first met her without even realising, occupying his mind every minute of every day, and interfered with his life forever with a single glare.

“I don’t set out to be,” she giggled, “but I’m glad to hear it.”

Shikamaru wanted so desperately to ignore every nagging voice in his mind that urged him to question her, begging for answers as to why it had mattered so much. He wanted to keep quiet—just sit and enjoy this moment with this stunning woman—before they went back to being enemies and yelled countries, composers, and cattle breeds back and forth for the rest of the day. This moment was calm, serene, and with the wind floating through her blonde hair she looked untouchable—hell, she was.

But not knowing and not understand, as it always had, plagued Shikamaru too desperately for him to keep his mouth shut.

“Last year,” he said tentatively, pausing when he saw her eyes flicker away, “why were you so upset?”

Temari’s lips parted, her eyes blinking rapidly as though she was processing what he’d asked her. He knew then, for certain, that he had ruined the moment, couldn’t help wondering if what he’d asked was really that impossible to answer. Or was it really that stupid a question? he considered. Maybe he was so out of touch in his misfit genius brain that it was him that seemed the strange one.

Instantly, a wave of anxiety crept up his spine, and a shiver ran across his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It wasn’t that I was embarrassed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The calmness of her voice was unnerving, and the sombre undertone ripped through Shikamaru like a freezing gust of wind. His eyes shot open to see her staring straight behind him, eyes clearly fixated on the building they’d be entering in little to no time at all, and he swore he could see them glaze over.

Temari tore the head from another daisy and ran her fingertip gently across the petals. Shikamaru wished he could reach out, halt her nervous fiddling, and it not be weird, but he knew better than to keep on being ridiculous. He’d already upset this woman once before—maybe twice, now— and couldn’t forget, as he’d mentioned, that she was scary.

“Maybe it should’ve been embarrassment, but I don’t really get embarrassed by much,” continued Temari. She chewed on her lips as they curled into a subtle smirk, one she clearly didn’t want him to see. “Well, until now. You’ve managed to get me there.”

Shikamaru frowned. “I’ve embarrassed you?”

“Reminding me of last year and then being so nice about it? Yeah, of course you have.” She chuckled. “It made me embarrassed for being such a bitch when you tried to talk to me back then.”

“You weren’t a bitch.”

“I told you to go fuck yourself.”

He snorted, smiling as he shrugged. “In your defence, I shouldn’t have tried to talk to you at all; I should’ve let you be.”

“Then why did you?” she sighed. “I assumed you were going to take the piss, but I—”

“I just wanted to understand.”

Temari’s eyes shifted. “Understand what?”

“How some dumb university quiz competition could matter so much to you.”

“You mean, it doesn’t matter to you?” she scoffed. “But you’re Shikamaru Nara! You’ve won this thing three years running and you’re telling me it doesn’t even matter to you?”

He felt guiltier than he ever had before, but all he knew to do was shrug and give a simple nod.

“Unbelievable.” Temari didn’t sound angry, just utterly gobsmacked. “No wonder you have no sense of team spirit.”

“I’m the captain,” he insisted. “I show up, I answer the questions—I win!”

“That doesn’t mean you get it, Nara!”

And there it was again: that frustratingly captivating voice with which she hissed his name, but this time it filled him with a sadness unlike what he’d ever felt before. He sat up and looked into her eyes, trying his best to disregard the resentment now present in them and remember what they had looked like soft and kind.

“Shikamaru,” he corrected feebly. “Please.”

She ignored him. “We’re not friends, Nara. I don’t want us to be friends—nobody needs that. Nobody’s on the same side here—we aren’t on the same side!”

“Why do there even need to be sides in the first place? I don’t understand—it’s just some stupid quiz.”

“But it isn’t!”

The way her breath had quickened to combat her anger, and the way her face had crinkled into the expression he remembered the best, forced Shikamaru’s shoulders to slump. It finally clicked in his mind, then and there, that maybe he was the weird one. After all, Ino and Choji cared—they wanted to win as badly as this woman did, didn’t they?

No, there was something different about the way she behaved to those two. Team spirit had always been at the core of Ino and Choji’s pep talks, and Shikamaru did enjoy being part of a team with them without a doubt, but he was starting to believe it was different for Temari. Talking about sides didn’t feel right to him, and the way she’d said it hadn’t been entirely convincing either. It was as though she didn’t believe she had one herself at all, and he had to admit he felt the same.

“Temari,” he tried softly, “why do you want so badly to win?”

Silence.

Nervously, Shikamaru reached for the daisy between her fingertips and let out an Almighty sigh of relief when she didn’t flinch away. Her grip tightened, but she let him rest his palm there, and he couldn’t help feeling like talking to her was far beyond his usual abilities for communication. One wrong word and she could tear off his hand, no question about it.

Still, he smiled a most delicate smile, and squeezed her hand slightly. “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone else to know you’re the best.”

Something flashed behind her eyes—a recognition of sorts. Tread carefully, idiot, he told himself.

“And even if you did, you showed everyone that last year.” He could see her lips part to speak but he continued too quickly. “Forget the last question—you smashed that competition. You were about to beat me.”

“But you beat me,” she sighed, resigned. “You won.”

Shikamaru chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

Temari bit down on her lip. “If you say some sappy shit about camaraderie and how I’m better at it, I will punch you.”

“Well,” he smirked, “you have taken it upon yourself to repeatedly remind me of how shit my team spirit is, you—”

She didn’t let him finish, tearing her hand from his and shutting him up instantly, but not with her fist as he expected. He squeezed shut his eyes, bracing himself for the impact of her knuckle on his jaw, but instead felt arms wrap around his neck and her lips press against his own. Suddenly it didn’t matter that his itchy collar was tight against his neck, only that her arms were what pressed it closer, and he couldn’t wait to re-do his ponytail in the knowledge that she’d been what had ruined it, pulling at his hair. Shikamaru grinned against her lips and he let himself kiss back, amazed at how these ridiculous events had unfolded and how quickly her emotions had shifted. Not that he cared at all.

“If you let me win,” he whispered as she began to pull away slowly, “I will kill you.”

“Vice versa.”

“I wouldn’t da—ow! Fuck!”

His hand flew to his bottom lip, now bleeding from the ferocity with which she had bitten it, and he couldn’t help but laughing as he wiped it away.

“You troublesome woman,” he groaned, watching her turn away and grab another flower as if nothing had even happened. “The fuck did you do that for?”

Temari shrugged and reached out her hand to help him up, which he accepted hesitantly. She breathed out a chuckle and stamped out the cigarette he’d left dying in the grass. “Just to remind you, and everyone else, that I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Oh, I already knew that.”

“I know."

Shikamaru almost felt weird for the way he was staring at her, and he could feel himself mirroring the grin when she finally looked him in the eye again. How serene she looked picking at those, after the hectic nature of their encounter, stopped him dead. “Shit,” he whispered, “you want the others to think you punched me, don’t you?”

She bit down on her own lip, her refusal to answer as telling as any word could’ve been. “Really though,” she said, “if you let me win, this won’t be the last time I make you bleed.”

“Don’t worry; I heard you the first time.”

Her smile didn’t falter as she walked away, her sandy-coloured uniform clinging to her figure, and Shikamaru couldn’t help but grin. Had he got the answers he wanted? Not even nearly, but he’d got her to talk and he’d got her to smile—that was enough for a first attempt. But for now, he had to get in there, face her again, and win. He’d never been more excited or motivated for anything in his life.

But first he had to stop this damn lip from bleeding.

*

With the buzzer’s sound drilling deep behind his eyes, Shikamaru rested his chin on his palm. He could see the way her narrow eyes lit up as she went to answer yet another ridiculous question, and for some reason felt a proud smile creep onto his lips.

“Correct!” the announcer bellowed. He flicked the card in his hand to the back of its pack, clearing his throat as he went, and leant forward menacingly. His elbows settled on the desk before him as he neatened up the pack of question-cards with a couple of jarring taps against the wood.

Shikamaru noticed instantly he was the only contestant not to mirror him. The young man  sat back calmly, crossing his arms across his chest, and took in a single deep breath. He didn’t need to look at the old git to know what he was about to say—one question remained and both teams were neck and neck. A perfect repeat of last year, he noted.

That also, thankfully, meant it was almost over. With a flick of his wrist and a couple of words, he’d be free to leave and his teammates could fawn over the prize they so desperately wanted to hold onto. Shikamaru couldn’t wait to be rid of the sticky feeling of sitting under studio lights, or escape the awkward false enthusiasm radiating from the man all eyes currently sat on, but he had to admit that dragging himself out would be difficult with her acting as she was.

He watched her brows furrow as she listened intently to the same old instructions he knew she’d heard a thousand times and drew his thumb up to his lip, gently brushing across the swollen patch. For a moment he swore she caught him looking, seeing her subtle smirk brushed away only by a nudge from her teammate. Shikamaru winced, feeling a trickle of wet on his lower lip as he snagged the wound with his nail.

“Stop touching it, Shikamaru,” hissed Ino from beside him, discreetly passes a handkerchief beneath the desk, her toe colliding with his shin for good measure.

The announcer turned toward him and cocked his head to one side in a most patronising manner. “So, Konoha,” he said calmly, before twisting to face the other team, “and Suna.” Once again he rattled the cards against the desk, provoking another groan from Shikamaru and, again, a kick in the shin. “The final question is for your captains only.”

A sigh escaped Shikamaru as he dabbed at his lip and shoot an ungrateful look toward his whit-blonde team-mate. Oh, get on with it, he complained inwardly, and his eyes drifted across the room to his his opponent. She was definitely smiling now, no doubt about it—a devilish sight unlike anything he’d seen—and he decided then and there that hers, without a doubt, was the most irritating face he might ever have to look at.

Nonetheless, he could look at it forever.

He’d see to it that he would. 

“Fingers on buzzers, captains.”

Shikamaru’s palm reluctantly captured the buzzer. From across the room hreatening, but unable to hold any distinguishable malicious intent, her eyes burrowed into him as he took a deep breath. A shudder flew across his shoulders. This was the one moment that was entirely up to him, where his actions spoke for the entire team—he could understand now why maybe that had made her nervous last time.

The man cleared his throat and his yes shot down to the card. “What term is used to refer to the combination of an exclamation mark and a qu—”

His hand smacked down on the buzzer with their eyes still locked on one another, and instantly he could see the frustration bubbling up inside her. Hers was pressed down, too, flush against the desk, but he had thoroughly beaten her this time on reflexes alone. Clearly she was annoyed—a fact that quite honestly made a smile creep across Shikamaru’s face, and he felt his lip twinge as he snapped back into the present.

Then it hit him—he had the perfect way to force her to talk to him afterwards, and rile her up with passionate exasperation with him. Nobody’s on the same side, she had told him, except he could easily be on her side, if he chose to be. All he had to do was let himself be wrong.

“Oh,” he mumbled just loud enough, feigning confusion as he eyed Temari up across the room, “I’m not sure I know.”

“Mr Nara?”

“Yes?”

“Your answer, please.”

Shikamaru shrugged and sat back, a playfully false bewilderment in his eyes. “I’m not sure,” he lied again, “but I’ll go for…” He could see the way her brows were knitting closer together, a curse word silently mouthed by her lips, and he had to hold back a triumphant grin as he tentatively said, “Jerusalem?”

[winrene]

wenrene fanfic masterpost

(last updated 15/07/2020)

(these are all from ao3, i can try and make one from aff too if anyone wants it, but i don’t really read on there) 

Completed

let's get away tonight by daybreaking - “you should really stop showing up like this,” joohyun reprimands, wry and dry, but her hands are reaching out to take the spare helmet anyways. “my parents will know about it someday.” seungwan just grins under her helmet, cheeks full and pressing against the insides of it. she pats the space behind her on the motorcycle. “yeah, someday.”

oneshot, 3,341 words, highschool au

i'll be your naughty girl & i got to have ya babe by throwaway18 - seungwan thinks joohyun is too much of a prude to be able to beat her in a dance-off. and joohyun is certain she's the only person capable of getting into seungwan's nerves.

oneshot, 6,800 words, dancer/rivals au

much ado about nothing by numot94 (futureplans) - seungwan's front-door neighbour is the most beautiful woman she's ever seen, and one day she'll definitely work up the courage to ask her out. in the meantime, though, she'd be happy to get through a conversation without embarrassing herself.

39 chapters, 180,319 words, neighbour au (this is simply gorgeous, one of the best wenrene fics of all time in my opinion, again highly suggest reading their other wenrene fics)

tell me why my gods look like you (and tell me why it’s wrong) by irwens - joohyun waits tables. seungwan is a cook. they work at the same restaurant.

oneshot, 3,333 words, restauraunt au

when you move, i'm moved by birdii (birdmint) - when you're an idol dating a ballet dancer, finding time to appreciate each other is difficult. seungwan and joohyun do their best.

oneshot, 2,195 words, ballet/solo-artist au

playing pretend by xpenguinqueenx - yeri needs a fake girlfriend to meet her parents, and wendy agrees to fill the spot, but mostly because she wants to eat her yogurt in peace. irene is not enthusiastic about their new 'relationship.'

oneshot, 10,026 words, ordinary-life au

this structure fell about our feet (and we were free to go) by redcapesarecoming - the seven times irene and wendy met in an airport

oneshot, 4,740 words, airport au

recessional by birdii (birdmint) - seungwan calls joohyun for a ride to the airport. it's the first joohyun has heard from her in five years.

oneshot, 4,045 words, modern au

rain will make the flowers grow by 8moons2stars - after red velvet splits up, joohyun and seungwan find each other again.

5 chapters, 5,334 words, canon-divergence au (highly suggest reading this author’s other wenrene fics too)

death of the author by numot94 (futureplans) - all seungwan wanted was to escape reality at least for a little while and go live in some fairy tale where everything goes right and everybody’s happy. still, she didn’t expect it to actually happen! now that she’s found herself in the fairy tale kingdom overnight, she’ll do her best to keep the story on track and make sure princess joohyun gets her happily ever after with the prince. of course, nothing is ever that simple, is it?

11 chapters, 35,134 words, fantasy au

the purity club by changdeol - joohyun bae is the president of their school's christian union who thinks she has all the answers. seungwan son proves her wrong.

37 chapters, 152,278 words, highschool au

sweet like honey by hyunsvelvet - son seungwan is in desperate need of a job. when she gets hired as the new secretary for up and coming forensic lawyer bae joohyun, who has developed a habit of firing secretaries, she's determined to keep this job. she pictured joohyun to be cold and distant, but upon meeting her seungwan can't help but notice her warm personality and begins to wonder how she's the same person known for firing secretaries after hiring them just weeks before.

25 chapters, 48,900 words, lawyer au

and i could see for miles, miles, miles by jisooosname - based off of the prompt: in which joohyun runs an advice podcast show and one day, seulgi asks for her advice and she gives an advice so bad that seungwan hunts her down

oneshot, 5,547 words, college radio-host au (fluff and good feelings all around, a very adorable read)

never mind your bleeding heart by numot94 (futureplans) - the first time seungwan saw joohyun, she’d just turned 13 and the older girl was 14, a few weeks away from her birthday. she fell in love instantly.

3 chapters, 32,742 words, childhood au (yes yes i know another numot fic, but god their writing is amazing i can’t help but suggest it cause i just love everything they write)

hey jealousy by fated_addiction - "you know they're not dating." or when wendy struggles with definitions.

oneshot, 1188 words, canon au (i have a thing for this author’s introspective writing. it’s like a drug, also i’m a sucker for lowercase. highly suggest their semicolon and check one series)

a kiss (to build a dream on) by seungvvannie (galaxygerbil) - there are other things and other people that should fill up Irene’s time, but maybe… maybe just for now, it can be her in Irene’s heart. just her on irene’s mind. everything else can wait until tomorrow. wendy just wants tonight.

oneshot, 3,845 words, fallout au

pisces by espressochoreom - in which a 24-year-old joohyun is at a laundromat on a gloomy tuesday morning when she recognizes someone across her washer. it's none other than the girl who had her earnestly question her sexuality in high school—son seungwan. the last time joohyun heard from her was six years ago, months after they graduated from high school, when she told her that she was planning to move and stay in canada for good. but of course, that's not the case anymore. seungwan happens to be in the same laundromat building, and from there they attempt to catch up where they left off. the awkwardness is so consistent; it's laughable.

oneshot, 2,447 words, laundromat au (kinda)

vague hope by beatosuffers - irene only knows one thing: emotions are prohibited.

oneshot, 6,475 words, nier:automata au

yesterday, today, tomorrow by sparksfly7 - there are two new girls this year. one is tall and round-cheeked and sweet-looking. the other one – from canada, with her collection of instruments and powerhouse voice – won’t leave irene alone.

oneshot, 2,796 words, canon au

let it shine by sparksfly7 - “it’s just – i planned to talk more, to give people a good impression, but…” irene trails off, clearly frustrated. “i don’t know.” she drops her head, her hair falling over her face. even the pink streaks in it look duller, as if her mood has washed out the dye. “there was nothing wrong with how you acted.” wendy sits down next to her on the bed. “being quiet isn’t a bad thing.”

oneshot, 2,064 words, canon au

see you soon by leirskald - seungwan tries to be okay with everyone leaving for the new year's holiday, but it's hard when she's the one left behind.

oneshot, 1,237 words, canon au

trust these butterflies by rosybutterflies - the circus just isn't that fascinating for irene bae anymore, having been in it since she was young. but the butterflies in her stomach tell her otherwise every time she's with one of the newbies, son seungwan.

2 chapters, 17,527 words, circus au

in her eyes by blkvelvets - now is definitely not the time to get hooked on a dumb freshman with a smile that could light up planets.

oneshot, 2,387 words, highschool au

i wanna come home to you by newboldtrue - irene says, “thanks for not thinking i’m a serial killer. i guess.” “thanks for letting me throw up the worst new year’s eve of my life in your apartment,” room 53 returns, and irene cracks a tiny smile at that. or, irene doesn't know her upstairs neighbor, really, but it's 5am and she won't stop ringing the doorbell;

oneshot, 1,599 words, neighbours au

the scent of you by ashensprites - seungwan, a private investigator, is hired to find a child who went missing almost 15 years ago.

16 chapters, 38,253 words, private investigator au

the downfalls of procrastination by lovelines (alliwantisthetruth) - fun fact #1 : seungwan has exactly 3 midterms coming up this week. fun fact #2 : seungwan has not started to study for any of her midterms. fun fact #3 : joohyun might kill her before she has the chance to sink her gpa. college au where seungwan is a smart but hot mess(TM) and joohyun cannot tolerate messes but for her, she does. somewhat.

oneshot, 1,413 words, university au

close your eyes, see through mine by sindubu - "her name is joohyun, and if that were the case...." her heel comes up to rub at the bridge of her nose. "why is she even here?" junior shrugs. "the intricacies of repressed lesbianism, my young, sapphic friend, is shockingly not in my field of expertise."

4 chapters, 9,070 words, conversion therapy au

feel my heart come undone by sindubu - wendy is homesick.

oneshot, 1,390 words, canon au

Ongoing

i’m different by throwaway18 - when wendy returns to seoul, being mistaken as a homeless person has been far from her expectations.

6/? chapters, 27,871 enemies to lovers/baker au

my heart and this night (makes this game flicker) by daybreaking - seungwan just got dumped and her roommate is trying to make her feel better by playing cards with her, but she just keeps winning and whispering, "sorry."

4/? chapters, 33,782, university au (an absolute favourite of a fic, it is so so good)

colored out the line by baechuzz - it’s been a while since joohyun had seen sooyoung blooming with happiness and love since her soulmate died. so when joohyun met wendy for the first time and during their handshake, a little dandelion blossomed on her wrist—she decided not to say a word and step back on the sidelines. even if wendy was her soulmate.

4/5 chapters, 27,628 words, soulmate au

somebody wants you by winterbreath - wendy doesn’t need anybody to tell her that this is a bad idea but she needs something to draw attention to the coffee shop; and irene needs a pretend-girlfriend. except Irene is a brat—and can someone please just send wendy to hell.

12/? chapters, 71,840 words, fake/pretend relationship au (another one i love a lot, definitely suggest reading this author’s other fic too, especially their all this love series)

shared space by sapphicirene - seungwan needs a new roommate, and joohyun is searching for an apartment. joohyun wonders if it's bad luck or fate that draws her back to seungwan after all these years.

4/? chapters, 11,259 words, college au (i’m not going to lie, this hasn’t been updated since 2018-12, but the chapters that are written are very lovely, so i think it’s worth a look!)

tea party for two by scarletstring - as a veteran female escort, wendy expects to be between the sheets, receive her pay, and then leave -- all within the hour. but wendy can't tell if this particular client knew that when she was spending her time preparing her tea instead of telling her to take her clothes off.

8/? chapters, 114,713 words, female escort au

noisy thoughts by scarletstring - irene moves in to her new apartment, where she meets her interesting roommate.

15/? chapters, 172,654 words, college au (scarlet is currently on hiatus, but their fics are one of the best things you could read)

just my cover, sweetheart by newboldtrue - wendy threw a disbelieving glance at the woman in her passenger seat. “have i had lunch? i just attended my own funeral, haven’t much been in the mood for eating.” or, son seungwan is leaving her life as a hitman in the past--but when a dead woman criticizes her epitaph and offers her one last job, she finds herself agreeing to help. wendy isn't quite sure what she's signed herself up for.

6/? chapters, 14,319 words, 1950s hitman au (hasn’t been updated in AGES, since 2018-08, but it is honestly a really worthwhile read)

[oatsn-honey]

breakfast and flower crowns

for the amazing @vx3art​!! ilysm!!

masterlist

summary:  Link would do anything for his princess: steal the stars and the moon, give his life, vanquish all evil. But to them, the smalls things, insignificant and sweet moments, were what mattered the most. And so, for her birthday, he would deliver just that.

notes:  babe, i'm so sorry this is so late!! :<<<< i've really dropped the ball ilysm, thank u for being so impossibly patient with me it's not much, but i hope u enjoy this little thing b ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

The sweet smell of roasting fruits and sweet cake began to gently lure Zelda from her slumber. Tucked away and cozy in the small bed, she nestled into the comforter, thick and smelling of nature. Her lips curled gently, and she blinked slowly, enchanted by the sunlight glinting from the foggy window. The rays, warm and whispering tales of old, danced on her skin as she shifted, sighing contently.

She took a moment to revel in the calm of the scene, the domestic wonder of it all, and to delight in the gentle humming wafting from below. There was a soft clattering of pans and dishes, but it suited the atmosphere peculiarly well. Burrowing further into the warm bed, she briefly wondered what he was doing. Zelda didn’t have to ponder her question for much longer, as the familiar creak of the loft stairs reached her ears. The tantalizing smell of home (this home) and treasured memories drawing nearer. Excitedly, she sat up in bed, propped on her side by one elbow. Her hair, now short and light, swayed gently, tickling her raised shoulder. He rounded the corner, a pleased spring in his step, a smile illuminated his face. “Ah, you’re awake,” he spoke, setting himself onto the bed, the mattress shifting with his weight. In his hands were a plate and a bowl, which were very obviously the culprits of that delicious scent. The porcelain bowl emitted a bright clink as he set it on the bedside table. His free hand reached up to brush a stray strand of her dandelion hair from her eyes, “Morning.”

“Morning, Link,” she cooed, an airy giggle passing from her lips. “What have you been up to?” She peered down at the plate still in his hands. Immediately, she could feel herself begin to salivate at the sight that greeted her.

“Here.” He pushed the dish, the border decorated with flowery designs and figures of small animals, into her hands. “For you.” Her heart fluttered; his smile lit the world, she was sure.

“Oh my,” she breathed, staring down at the beautiful spread. Her eyes drifted to the center, surrounded by berries and various fruits, where a generous slice of fruitcake awaited her. “Link,” her voice broke as she gazed up at him, eyes glimmering with tears. “Thank you.”

Fruitcake: forever an emblem of her mother, who would make it each birthday for her. “Happy birthday, Zel.” He leaned in and kissed the crown of her head, ruffling her already bed-tousled hair. She laughed wetly.

“What a sweet gift,” she hummed, blinking away her tears. She smiled up at him again, love and adoration shining in her eyes.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today,” Zelda asked, a bounce in her step. Her dress, yellow and breezy, swayed in time with the woven basket hooked in the bend of her arm. “I was thinking we would stop by the flea market and get ingredients for dinner tonight.” She turned to him, hopeful smile brilliant and heavenly.

“Up to you.” Rolling up his sleeves -- the spring sun was growing stronger each day -- and gazing at the pleasantly clear sky, Link felt fulfilled and joyous, a strong affection soaring in his heart.

Strolling up next to him, Zelda looped her free arm around his, groaning up at him. “Oh, come now! Surely you can help me decide what to do!” A spurious pout plastered on her face. It was replaced by a mischievous smile quickly, the facade melting away.

He beamed down at her, laughs tumbling from his lips. “It is your birthday, you should choose.”

“Well then,” she huffed, pointing her chin upwards, “I do choose to go to the market.” And so, she led them off, laughing and swaying, towards the bustling market of Hateno.

“What do you think of this tomato?” She held the fruit up for him to inspect, both scrutinizing it’s surface for bumps and bruises. The sun bounced from its flesh as she turned it in her hands.

“Looks good to me,” he decided, brows furrowed. “Ah, and how many carrots should we grab?” He showcased a handful, and she grabbed several from his clutches, placing them into her basket.

They paid the kind vendor, a sweet old woman, and wished her well. Moving onto the spice stand, a group of children sitting outside of a booth caught their attention. As it would seem, they caught theirs as well. One child, a boy of a tender age, beckoned for them.

“Whatcha doin’?” Link asked, bending down to examine the various items and plants tossed about the children. In his hands, the boy weaved several vines and flowers together.

“We’re making jewelry, Link!” A girl chimed, grinning up at the couple, her smile toothless and innocent. “What do ya’ think, Zel?”

Scooping the small child into her arms, Zelda praised her, “It’s wonderful! You’re so very skilled!” Her hand, graceful and thin, came to tickle the girl, and her squeals of laughter rang through the air. The other children giggled with them, and Link took the moment to admire her, and all she did.

As her laughter slowly dwindled, Zelda asked the girl, “So, where did you acquire these supplies anyway?” Excitedly, the children, bouncing in place, described the field and forest in which they found each and every plant and flower.

The two left them then, parting with large waves and bright smiles, and made their way to this field to enjoy their lunch. The gentle breeze passed through their hair, curving around them, as they made their way through the village, pacifying and domestic just as its people.

Soon, they found themselves in a field with swaying grass and small critters, littered with flowers that created land-bound constellations upon the earth. After taking in the sloping hills and serene landscape, Zelda unfurled their quilted blanket and sat herself down, patting the space next to her.

“Lunch is served,” she hummed, saving her hand dramatically over the food. “Dig in.” They sat in peace, listening to the chirp of birds and the song of the wind passing through the grass and trees’ leaves.

Eventually, with their basket near empty beside a small collection of berries and slices of meat, they settled on their backs. The sky, a beautiful blue, smiled down on them that day, few clouds dotting its excellence, the sun a warm reminder of life, and all it stood for. A gentle exhale, in it carrying every stress away, passed through Zelda, and she allowed her eyes to drift closed, held secure against Link’s side.

When she finally opened her eyes again, the always gorgeous sky was painted with strokes of pink and orange, and the sun winked at the horizon. She turned, eyes settling on his, and he smiled at her, leaning closer to plant a sloppy peck on her forehead. Zelda laughed and returned the favor.

She sat up, hoping to watch the sun slip under the edge of her sight. He sat up with her, and turned to face her, one hand risen to cup her cheek tenderly. In his hands, a gorgeous crown of small flowers and vines, braided and twisted in an eloquent design.

There was no shock or surprise when he placed it on her head, fixing it around her mussed hair. Their eyes locked, a motionless dance commencing between them, and he whispered, voice brimming with emotion, “For you, my princess, anything. Happy birthday.”

thank u for reading!! ♡ฅ(ᐤˊ꒳ฅˋᐤ♪) pls leave ur thoughts below!! i also highly recommend going to check out vi's art!! she's absolutely amazing and i love her so much! ꒰˘̩̩̩⌣˘̩̩̩๑꒱♡ (she also has her half of the exchange on her insta and tumblr!!)

links: ♡ instagram link ♡ tumblr link

[drowningbydegrees]

Once Written in the Stars Pt. 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | On AO3

It’s not as if Jaskier had expected the witcher to keep him company, exactly. Guiding the man out of the woods had been a gift, and demanding any sort of repayment would have made it transactional, perhaps even more so than the witcher’s attempt to thank Jaskier for it afterwards. Both run counter to everything the fairy is. Continuing on his own isn’t exactly preferable, but he won’t begrudge the witcher a choice in the matter. Even if the quiet is more palpable without a taciturn traveling companion to blame it on.

Besides, he’s lonely, but Jaskier doesn’t feel anything like helpless. Unfamiliar surroundings are an inconvenience more than a real danger. He could live here, he thinks, out in the wild. There are places, surely, where humans don’t venture, and if Jaskier wants, he can take back what remains of himself. He doesn’t think he will, but he could, and that’s some kind of agency, isn’t it?

This isolation is only temporary. There’s a wide world stretched out in every direction and the witcher is hardly the only person in it. Jaskier doesn’t know the rest of the continent any better than he does the village he’s come from, but that just means any path he takes will be an adventure. It doesn’t hold the promise he thinks it ought to, but Jaskier resolutely puts one foot in front of the other.

The heat of the day before creeps in, and though Jaskier was perfectly comfortable in the beginning, the air soon feels like it means to smother him. It’s nothing at all like home. Jaskier glares at the sky like it’s out to get him personally, and trudges along, annoyed by the way his chemise clings to his skin under his doublet. He could travel some other way or take some other shape, but that is just besides the point.

There’s no one to complain to, so Jaskier mostly keeps his grumbling to a silent, internal narrative. It probably doesn’t matter since there’s no one around to hear him anyway. Another hour in, it finally occurs to Jaskier that he has no idea how far human villages tend to be from each other. It’s too late now, but he makes a note to ask for a map or something if he ever reaches people again.

He’d probably have accepted any excuse to take a break, but the rush of a stream has Jaskier immediately veering his merry way off course. It isn’t all that far anyway, and there’s a patch of grass among the trees that seems like a perfect place to take a drink and sit down for a minute. Or maybe to nap away this dreadfully unpleasant weather. Definitely that one.

“Jaskier?” Better self preservation skills might have made the fairy startle at the interruption, but Jaskier’s instincts are heavily shaped by usually being the most dangerous thing in any given space. He barely even registers that someone is there, talking, saying a name that isn’t his enough yet to register as a greeting. Not, at least, until that someone ventures closer, boots scuffing against the dirt, tailed by a rhythmic clopping sound. “Dandelion?”

Jaskier hums a vague acknowledgement when he realizes who’s his unanticipated company is, and can’t be bothered to look up. “Witcher? What are you doing here?”

“You left and… This is the direction the road goes.” It’s a non answer if Jaskier has ever heard one, but that’s okay. It gives the fairy something to go on, at least, that this wasn’t some sort of awkward accident.

“You didn’t want company,” Jaskier points out, and he does look up then, but where he expects to see the witcher’s face, he’s met instead with the witcher’s other traveling companion. “You have a horse. You didn’t tell me you have a horse.”

“I didn’t realize we’d progressed to the ‘I have a horse’ level of acquaintance,” the witcher replies, leaving Jaskier only barely containing an unexpected bark of laughter. It’s a minor miracle he manages to school his expression into something neutral long enough to prompt the witcher to add, “I was joking.”

“Were you?” Jaskier’s brows raise in a mimicry of shock. “I didn’t know you were capable of it.”

“You’ve known me for one day, Jaskier.”

“Yes and the only time your face wasn’t some variation of grumpy was when you were sleeping.” Jaskier taps his nose thoughtfully. “Actually, I’m not even sure about that. You might look grumpy when you’re sleeping. I didn’t think to look.”

The witcher sucks in a breath. It escapes back out in a heavy sigh. “...Is this how things are going to be?”

Jaskier’s nose scrunches in confusion, and he idly wonders if the witcher is standing where he is on purpose, because looking at him puts the sun right in the fairy’s eyes. “What things?”

“Traveling together.” The words come out tightly, enough that Jaskier is almost sorry for the witcher’s discomfort. Almost.

“Since when are we traveling together?” Jaskier perhaps undercuts the suspicion he means to project by virtue of getting to his feet as he’s asking.

“You wanted to.”

“You didn’t,” Jaskier points out, though now, in the midst of this stilted exchange, he’s not so sure it’s as simple as the witcher actually wanting to be alone.

“I didn’t mean that.” There’s a nearly imperceptible tug at the corner of the witcher’s mouth. Jaskier can’t decide if it’s guilt over the lie he’s just spouted or guilt for the way they parted ways to begin with.

It doesn’t matter, Jaskier decides, recognizing it for the peace offering it is. He circles around so he can look at the witcher without the sun in his face. “You did, but that’s alright.”

“Hmm.” The lack of response is a clear end to the conversation, or at least an end to the witcher willingly contributing to it. And yet, he stays put, as clear an invitation to come along as Jaskier is likely to get.

“Yes, fine. I’m coming.” Jaskier falls into step beside the witcher and his horse, wondering idly if the miserable weather is why she’s being led and not ridden. Either way, she’s lovely in the way that all creatures are to Jaskier, and he says as much, reaching out to pet her.

“Don’t. She-” the witcher warns, though it comes too late, as Jaskier’s fingers are already brushing over the soft velvet of her muzzle. “-bites.”

The horse does no such thing. If anything, she nudges into Jaskier’s palm, seeking out the contact. He’d expected nothing else, but it still leaves Jaskier unreasonably please. He flashes a broad smile at Geralt. “What was that?”

“Hmm.”

That, as far as the fairy can tell, is the end of that. Jaskier makes a couple of attempts at conversation, but it appears the witcher has met his quota for the day. He barely glances in Jaskier’s direction, and he certainly doesn’t say anything. Not even when Jaskier parrots back, “Is this how things are going to be?”

The witcher’s horse whickers, and Jaskier is quick to grasp the opportunity presented. “She says you’re grumpy and you could stand to smile more.”

“She didn’t.” The witcher is still looking ahead, but Jaskier spots the faint twitch that belies his amusement. “You’re not trying to convince me you can understand her.”

Jaskier huffs out a laugh, pleased to have gotten the witcher talking again, at least a tiny bit. There’s something decidedly enjoyable about the gravely sound of the witcher’s voice, and it seems a shame he doesn’t use it more. “Are you so certain I don’t?”

All Jaskier gets for his trouble is a very pointed sigh, but it doesn’t deter the fairy in the slightest. He lets his gaze linger on the witcher a moment longer before turning his attention to the road ahead. It stretches out what looks like forever, but where it was a little daunting all alone, now it feels full of promise and adventure.

It’s the best version of events, a fascinating instrument strapped to his back, and even more fascinating companion at his side. Two, he supposes, if you count the horse. He’s always had a penchant for the grandiose, and so it’s with all the gravity Jaskier can muster that he decides this is the beginning of the rest of his life.

***

Jaskier never does give a straight answer about the talking to animals bit. Worse than that, the claim is not at all isolated. Jaskier spends the rest of their journey trying to convince Geralt he can do all sorts of absurd things. Fairies never really came up in training aside from a vague suggestion to steer clear of their mischief, and so Geralt isn’t confident enough in his own knowledge to guess at what’s real and what is, well, Jaskier’s particular brand of mischief.

By the time they reach the next village, Jaskier has claimed to be able to:

Talk to Roach

Pick up the boulder they pass by that is nearly as tall as Geralt.

Reincarnate so he can bother Geralt all over again if he happens to die. (Which “hardly ever happens to him” whatever that means.)

Read minds, but possibly not Geralt’s because witchers feel different, so he hasn’t tried, and, “that does not look like an invitation to try kind of face” (He’s right)

Make sure the innkeeper’s wife who was nice to Geralt that morning has a nice day. Every day. (The fact that Jaskier describes this as an ability is weirdly ominous)

Make the alderman who was rude to Geralt have the sort of luck where he mysteriously trips over himself. Or the furniture. Or the chamberpot. Or… (Geralt stops listening while Jaskier offers up an entire sublist of things the alderman could trip over)

Trap bandits in vines if they were to run into them (which he stresses makes him a great travel companion)

Keep Geralt company in his dreams (Geralt makes sure he knows he’s not invited. Just in case that one’s an actual thing.)

Make people see things that aren’t real.

Lay claim to someone if given their name (Which he insists he doesn’t do. It’s just that he could. Geralt is still relieved to have not given his up just yet.)

Heal... things (He doesn’t seem clear enough on it himself to be anything more than frustratingly vague.)

Geralt knows at least some of it is true. After all, he’s seen the evidence. But the witcher’s attempts to sort out what is from what isn’t all net him the same small, cryptic smile from Jaskier. Menace that he is, he’s clearly enjoying the confusion he’s causing.

As impossible as it is to ignore Jaskier’s presence, Geralt’s routine when he gets into town doesn’t change all that much. He sees to getting Roach stabled. He checks the message board. He ventures into the inn in hopes that this one will rent him a room.

That is, of course, when things get weird. Everything gets weird with Jaskier involved, Geralt is coming to realize. He’s barely through the door when the innkeeper spots him, and she flashes a smile. A real smile. The kind strangers might give to other humans, but never to witchers. It’s followed by an unfailingly friendly exchange that leaves him with the promise of dinner and a place to sleep for a pittance.

None of it makes sense, so, despite their earlier conversation, Geralt still corners Jaskier when they’re safely ensconced in their room. “Did you do that?”

Jaskier’s expression immediately sours at what probably sounds like an accusation, but he doesn’t snap, even though Geralt knows he might have earned it. The fairy only wets his lips, his words chosen with obvious care. “Did I do what exactly?”

People are being nice to me again sounds absurd, even in Geralt’s head, so he only gestures vaguely towards the door and hopes Jaskier will get it.

“The innkeeper?” This is the part, Geralt thinks, where he finally earns Jaskier’s vitriol, because there’s no overlooking the insinuation that the fairy hasn’t kept his word. Jaskier opens and closes his mouth a few times, but nothing particularly angry comes out. “I did not... make her be nice to you.”

Geralt hadn’t really anticipated a cagey response, but it’s far better than an angry or offended one. Some of the tension eases, enough for Geralt to arch a brow at the fairy. “But, you did something.”

Jaskier’s shoulders rise and fall, his gaze theatrically innocent. “I got here the same time you did. What is it you think I’ve done?”

There’s no explaining what he thinks without sounding completely ridiculous, and Jaskier bites his lip on a cheeky smile as he watches Geralt fight with it for a minute. In the end, the witcher just sighs. “This isn’t over.”

“Did you just threaten me with conversation? You do know how threats actually work, right?” Jaskier’s smile broadens into something thoroughly gleeful. He’s not supposed to be gleeful. He’s supposed to be chastised or something, but there Jaskier is, mouth turned up shamelessly at the corners, and Geralt can’t call the expression anything else.

It feels like a trap, though Geralt is reasonably certain the only potential casualty is his pride. He sidesteps it anyway, scowling at the fairy. “Hmm.”

“I don’t think that ‘hmm’ means the same thing it did last time. Or the one before that, come to think of it. Do you, by any chance, have a primer?”

Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s brought this on himself, he knows, and bemoans the crisis of conscience made him amenable to traveling together. “I have a contract. I will be back. Stay. Here.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Jaskier calls after Geralt leaving him to stiffen midstep. He racks his brain trying to think what he might have somehow traded away. Turning to look at the fairy only affirms that Jaskier is going to be no help at all, given the casual waving off gesture he directs at Geralt. “So long, witcher.”

***

In Geralt’s absence, Jaskier immediately decides that “here” refers to the whole inn, so it’s definitely not breaking his word to gather up his lute and leave the cramped little bedroom they’ve been put up in. It’s not as if he means to go anywhere anyway. He’s chosen a life to lead, and it seems like it should be less nerve wracking without the witcher around to judge his performance.

Jaskier gets all the way down the stairs before he starts to second guess himself. The room is large and there aren’t a lot of people, but there are enough. Much like the last inn, there’s a conspicuously empty spot in the corner where he could probably stand and play. There’s no one in it, so really, it may as well be him.

Except, as Jaskier moves in that direction, it occurs to him that he knows as much about humans as the witcher does about fairies. Is there some kind of etiquette? He’d watched the bard play, but hadn’t actually seen how it started, and though he knows it’s absurd, he’s half afraid that if he does this wrong, he’ll be found out for what he really is.

Two steps from the open spot on the floor, Jaskier veers off course towards the bar. It’s safer. This is a normal human person thing to do. Patrons come and go, and it takes no time at all to hear someone place an order he can easily mimic. Before he knows it, the innkeeper is setting down a mug in front of him, a smile he can’t quite place flitting across her lips.

He still feels like an imposter, sitting at the bar with his hands curled around the mug like it can somehow shield him, so he distracts himself by guzzling down some of its contents. Ale is very definitely not a favorite to begin with and this is… well he’s really not sure why someone would pay for the dubious privilege of consuming it. No one else’s face is doing the thing his keeps trying to do though, so maybe it tastes different to humans, and Jaskier is briefly dismayed because he hadn’t considered that. He can’t convince anyone he’s human if he doesn’t even know how to respond like one.

Only the fact that fleeing seems like it might be more suspicious keeps Jaskier from doing precisely that. He holds his mug to be doing something, but doesn’t drink any more. There are people around him, but no one is paying him and the mug he’s nearly dented clutching too tightly. In an effort to soothe his own nerves, Jaskier decides he’s on a reconnaissance mission. If he wants to play at being human, it’s probably best to know what they’re like, so he sits and he listens to the people nearby.

Human conversation, as far as Jaskier can tell, is absurdly boring. They talk about crops and animals and local gossip, and not a whit of it is of any interest to the fairy. Not for the first time, Jaskier is glad he ended up with the witcher, who doesn’t talk about… much of anything actually, but at least when he does bother to say something, it matters. Silence seems far better than this drivel.

He’s so caught up in said drivel that he doesn’t realize he’s captured the innkeeper’s attention until she speaks to him. “You going to be in town long?”

“Wh-what?” Jaskier nearly jumps out of his seat, and he thinks surely he’s given himself away now, but there’s nothing more threatening than mild amusement creeping across her features. “Oh, just passing through. Whenever my friend is ready to move on, I guess.”

It’s not a lie, and while he’s not sure he’s said the right thing, judging from her response, he hasn’t said the wrong thing either. “The witcher? That must be exciting. Do you write songs about your adventures?”

“Oh it is,” Jaskier agrees, and that’s true too. In the last day he’s been exiled from his home, gotten a new name and a new job, and has not the slightest idea where he even is. But if she probably thinks he’s talking about traveling around with someone who slays monsters in general, that isn’t his fault. The question seems weird until he remembers he’s supposed to be a bard. Do they write songs? He supposes they probably do. The fairy winces internally as he hears himself stumble over an explanation. “Well, no. Not yet, anyway. I’m just waiting for the… the right inspiration.”

“Well, if inspiration is what you’re after-” The innkeeper sets down another mug Jaskier doesn’t remember asking for, heedless of the fact that the one he has is still mostly full. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even catch your name.”

“Jaskier,” the fairy answers absently, because it’s never been a thing to fear, giving his name away to creatures who cannot harm him. He’s more interested in trying to make sense of why she’s leaning so close across the counter. Her hair smells nice, warm and slightly sweet in stark contrast to most everything else in the inn.

“Lareine.” Jaskier sucks in a breath in spite of himself, mystified by this human custom of giving oneself away so casually. He won’t use it, but he could, and the power she’s handed him shivers right down Jaskier’s spine and settles in his belly. Surrender, however unintentional, is unfairly intoxicating.

“Lareine,” Jaskier says back, tasting the syllables in his mouth. They leave an itch under his skin that he squirms to be rid of, and for a fleeting moment he wonders if this is what it would be like for the witcher to give up his name. Realizing he’s lingered on that thought too long, he rushes to add, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Unfamiliar as Jaskier is with humans, he’s no fool and he’s hardly innocent. He knows exactly what to make of her heavy gaze and faintly parted lips. The expression is one that’s largely universal. Suddenly, the leaning in thing makes far more sense. It means he’s chosen his form well, Jaskier supposes, because it’s certainly not an interest in his haphazard attempts at conversation that inspires her to invite him to come find her later.

“Later,” he echoes, with no real intent one way or the other. On the bright side, it’s a new thing to be twisted up in knots over, until venturing out onto the floor sounds less stressful than staying put. He leaves her with a smile meant to mask his nerves, scooping up his lute and settling in the open spot he’d spied in the corner.

Still, no one is paying him any attention. That’s alright. It’s good, in fact, because no one takes any note of the time he takes to gently lift the instrument out of its case, forcing his breathing into a calm, even cadence. There’s no reason for anyone to think he’s something other than what he looks like, Jaskier reminds himself, and that’s enough to get him to cradle the instrument comfortably in his arms while he picks out a song.

By the time it occurs to him that maybe there’s some etiquette around this, perhaps he should have asked, Jaskier has already begun playing. And at first, nothing changes. Jaskier plucks out notes on the strings and the inn patrons continue their quiet conversations, leaving him to wonder if he’s doing this all wrong. For all his bright colors and crisp, clear music, Jaskier feels strangely invisible. At least until he opens his mouth.

It happens in fits and starts, not so differently from what he’d observed the night before. Jaskier sings and little by little the conversation around him dies away. Little by little the mood shifts, and it leaves the fairy breathless. There is no magic in this at all. However easily he could lean on his powers, he doesn’t feel any need to. He has them all anyway, ensnared in nothing more than a pleasant melody.

Jaskier moves effortlessly between joy and melancholy, enthralled by the way the people blindly follow. The life he gave up seems so far away just now, a small sacrifice in the face of what he finds here. He melts into it with an easy sort of grace until he’s moving among a crowd who seem only too happy to welcome him, and as Jaskier flits from one melody to the next, it’s a simple thing to pretend he’s never been anything at all but this.

***

The contract goes fine as much as they ever do, no more or less exciting than any other. Geralt goes through the motions with practiced ease, and soon, he’s headed back to town, griffin head dangling from his hand by its mane. The sky is still gray with the last vestiges of twilight only the distant chirp of crickets invading the silence he finds out here.

He’s only just reached town, still down the road from the inn when he hears it, distant and muffled under the crunch of his boots against gravel.

Something in the darkness pulled me deeper

Something in the madness eased my mind

Was I awake or was I dreaming

Cut the strings that bind me to mankind

The memory is more physical than anything else, the echo of an irresistible pull of it he’d helplessly melted into. To Geralt’s horror, he realizes he’s supplanted his lack of knowledge about fairies with the things Jaskier has told him to be true. There’s no real certainty that Jaskier’s odd sense of honor is genuine or that this whole thing hadn’t been some kind of ploy. Caught up in dread that he might have unleashed something terrible on this village, Geralt tears down the street and through the yard, sliding through the open door when he reaches it.

All is exactly as it should be, to Geralt’s relief and chagrin. The innkeeper is still behind the bar. Conversation continues at some tables. Jaskier plays in the corner, with an audience gathered around, just the way they might for any other particularly good bard. The tension coiled in his shoulders releases in increments as Geralt takes in the reality of the situation.

He hopes Jaskier truly cannot read his mind lest the fairy realize the unfair suspicion he was caught up in. And truly it is unfair. Jaskier’s voice is warm and alluring, but it’s readily apparent that there is no magic in it. People clearly recognize that Jaskier is easy on the eyes and even easier on the ears, but there are no strings drawing them in. He looks, admittedly, like exactly what he’s trying to be, which is entirely the point.

Geralt means to slip away, but Jaskier chooses just then to look up. Perhaps he can read minds after all. Or maybe not, because his eyes scrunch at the corners, giving away the smile he’s trying to sing around. He beckons Geralt with a brief wave in a moment where his fingers aren’t plucking at the strings of his lute.

Geralt has never met anyone who seems so unfailingly pleased to see him, and the witcher doesn’t have the foggiest idea what to do with it except to tell himself it’s only a passing fascination on the fairy’s part. He shakes his head and holds up the griffin head in lieu of shouting across the inn that he’s got somewhere to be. It’s only once he’s done it that he realizes waving disembodied body parts around about isn’t exactly an endearing thing to do. At least the blood has long since drained away, so it isn’t leaking. Before anyone can say a word about it, Geralt slips out the door again to collect his pay. Perhaps also to collect himself.

***

The music has stopped when Geralt returns and Jaskier has tucked himself away at a table in the corner with what looks to be dinner. It strikes Geralt as presumptuous on the fairy’s part that there’s a second bowl and tankard already set out in the empty space across from him. It doesn’t stop Geralt from taking up residence there, but he punctuates the movement with a glower at Jaskier that he hopes gets the point across.

Judging by the way Jaskier grins at Geralt, he does not get the point across. Sighing through his nose, Geralt tries very hard to ignore Jaskier, but the fairy is right there at the edge of his vision even when he doesn’t look up, practically vibrating like an excitable puppy until the witcher gives up. He regrets asking even before he’s finished speaking. “Have a good time?”

“The best,” Jaskier says immediately, like the words had been threatening to burst free whether Geralt asked for them or not. Spoon still clutched in one hand, Jaskier gestures dramatically. “Witcher, I have found my calling.”

In Jaskier’s defense, it did seem like a good fit, not that Geralt had any intention of saying so. He allows a noncommittal hum and no more, and it doesn’t really matter because Jaskier is going on about something or other, not paying much mind at all to whether Geralt is listening.

“It’s just, I know there’s no place for me out here.” Jaskier’s volume lowers to a hushed thing, nearly lost in the ambient sounds of conversation around them, and the difference is enough to snag Geralt’s attention once more. He knows that feeling after a fashion. He’d like to tell Jaskier it isn’t true, but platitudes are of no use to either of them. He could sympathize, but comfort isn’t something Geralt is built for, and the attempt feels too wide a chasm to cross.

“So-” Jaskier claps his hands together, unknowingly making the choice for Geralt. The fairy abruptly brightens in a way that Geralt doesn’t really buy. He doesn’t call Jaskier on the fabricated nature of it either. There’s no point when he has no comfort and no alternative to offer. “I’ve got to be someone else, and this… this fits. I can be this.”

“Just so long as you stay out of trouble,” Geralt grumbles from behind the tankard he’s brought to his lips.

“I wasn’t causing trouble. They liked it. They paid me for it even.” Jaskier waves a jingling drawstring bag at Geralt to prove his point. If he’s at all put out by the flat look Geralt gives him, Jaskier certainly doesn’t show it. He barely even takes a breath to make room for Geralt’s input (not that the witcher is giving him any) in between carrying on about how he should maybe learn some human songs, or maybe write something new, and maybe could they stop for supplies before they move on because he’s never tried to write a song, but he would very much like to.

Geralt lets it wash over him. While the chatter isn’t his first choice of ways to spend an evening, Jaskier’s enthusiasm isn’t exactly unpleasant. Asking him to put a cork in it is a useless endeavor, so Geralt drinks and waits for Jaskier to talk himself out or… something.

“What do you like to do? When you’re not, you know, witchering or whatever.” Very suddenly, Jasker’s attention is on Geralt, overwhelming in its focus. In all the years he’s been on the Path, no one has ever asked him that, but here Jaskier is, leaning in sightly across the table like he’s waiting for Geralt to share a secret.

“You’re looking at it,” Geralt says gruffly, at a loss for anything better to fill in the blank with. There’s a lingering quality to Jaskier’s gaze, an unabashed curiosity that shivers unexpectedly down Geralt’s spine. He covers it up with a scowl at the fairy. “With less company.”

“That last bit is a given,” Jaskier points out, mouth ticking up a little in a lopsided smile. He turns away briefly, looking at one of the other patrons, or maybe the innkeeper, and for a second Geralt thinks he’s taken this as a cue to leave. It’s a fleeting thing though, before his eyes are on Geralt again. “At least you’re consistent.”

“Hmm.” Geralt commits all of his attention draining the rest of his ale.

“That’s a new one. Are you sure you don’t have a primer?”

***

The evening passes without incident. Jaskier flits off to play a little longer, and though Geralt doesn’t exactly mean to, he sticks around and listens. It’s a little bit clearer in the midst of conversation or when the fairy does something that disturbs his medallion, but like this, Geralt realizes, he’d never know Jaskier was anything other than human.

By the time Geralt decides he’s run out of good reasons to stay downstairs, Jaskier is packing up anyway, still unfathomably bright eyed and full of energy. He spares the fairy a passing glance and is granted a pleased smile for it. Heading off any other mischief Jaskier might have in mind, he grumbles. “I’m going to sleep.”

“...Yes? Why else would someone sequester themselves in a bedroom when they could be out here?” Geralt looks over in time to see Jaskier’s mouth twitching with the urge not to laugh, probably internally answering his own question, but fortunately for both their sakes, he doesn’t opt to put any of those other reasons into words.

He doesn’t say much of anything else as he takes it upon himself to follow the witcher to bed. Except to thank Geralt for sticking around. And to ask what Geralt thought of his performance. And to muse about the differences between human and fairy furniture. And to apologize when he finally notices the sour look Geralt gives him over his inability to shut up for two minutes. And to immediately undermine said apology.

“Don’t give me that look.” Jaskier doesn’t seem to notice his own petulance. “Someone’s gotta carry the conversation. You don’t say anything.”

“You don’t ask.” Geralt regrets it immediately. There’s some small truth to it, but if Geralt is being charitable, he knows it’s mostly because Jaskier’s attempts to learn more about him are mostly deflected.

True or not, Jaskier’s teeth click as he shuts his mouth, and the space between his brows crinkles a little. Silence falls between them, long enough to get in bed and put out the light. He’s just beginning to fall asleep when Jaskier breaks it.

“I’m asking now” Jaskier murmurs, barely more than a whisper in the dark. Geralt can feel a faint tug at his mind, but it quickly dissipates like compelling conversation is a reflex. Maybe it is.

Geralt groans at the ceiling, but he quickly decides that answering will probably be less annoying than trying to convince the fairy to stop talking again. When Geralt turns his head to look at the other bed, Jaskier is staring curiously back. His eyes glow faintly, eerie and so, so blue, even in the dark. No one has given him any strange looks though, so Geralt wonders idly what humans see. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. You’re the first witcher I’ve ever met.” Usually there’s something grotesque about the curiosity directed at Geralt, a sick fascination. It comes with a footnote that he’s been deemed inhuman. This is the first time the question has carried a sense of wonder. When Geralt picks out Jaskier with his jaw resting against his knuckles, he only looks like someone wanting to know more about a person they’re interested in.

“I might be the only one you meet. There aren’t many of us left.”

‘Why not?’ hangs in the air, but remains unasked. Maybe Jaskier knows somehow that it’s a touchy subject, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but what he asks instead is, “Are they all like you?”

“What? Motivated by coin? Devoid of emotion?” If Jaskier hasn’t heard those things already, Geralt is sure he will. May as well get out ahead of it and give an answer they can both live with now.

“Surely you don’t think I buy that,” Jaskier complains around an indignant huff. “Those are just stories humans tell.”

“How would you know?”

“I listen. I hear them. The less something is like you, the easier it is to justify being cruel or hateful or afraid.” There’s no pity in Jaskier’s tone, but it’s soft and a thread of empathy runs through it. Geralt can’t help but wonder what could have possibly happened in the last two days to draw the fairy to that conclusion, but he never gets the chance to decide whether to ask. Abruptly, Jaskier’s voice takes on a brighter cast. “Besides, neither of those is true, so they can only be stories.”

“They could be true.” Geralt isn’t sure what possesses him to press back, but the words are out before he really stops to think.

“I know you think me flighty, but I do notice things. If this were about money, that would have gone very differently with the alderman in the last town.” Jaskier’s eyes seem to scrunch up a little in the dark, betraying a smile Geralt can only barely make out. “And if you didn’t have emotions, you’d still be in that forest.”

It’s not the first cryptic thing Jaskier has said to him, but it’s strangely precarious, as if Geralt has given away some deeply held secret without even meaning to. The claim hovers just near enough to reasonable that Geralt is helpless but to want to make sense of it. “What makes you say that?”

“Witcher. I drew you there. Don’t you remember? Doing that, it’s a bit like… like controlling a river. I can change the direction it flows, but I cannot conjure up water from dry earth.” Jaskier’s explanation is heavy with meaning, leaving Geralt feeling raw and bruised. The vulnerability of realizing that Jaskier, who doesn’t even know his name, has seen through him so clearly is unexpectedly overwhelming.

Geralt doesn’t know quite what to say to that, so he deflects under the guise of weariness that’s more true than he expected. Geralt rolls onto his back with a noncommittal hum and closes his eyes, and briefly, there is silence before the fairy whispers, “Hide behind the story if you wish. I won’t force you out of it, but I do know better.”

“Tell me something,” Geralt hears himself say, the words coming of their own accord. It seems suddenly pressing to understand what Jaskier is, though fatigue is creeping in. Or, maybe it only feels fair to demand transparency after the way this conversation has flayed him. “How much of what you said before is real?”

Jaskier’s laugh carries softly, muffled by what Geralt assumes is the fairy’s hand. It soothes a rough edge Geralt didn’t even realize was there, strangely comfortably despite the newness of it all. “Back on the road?”

Geralt hums the affirmative, already drifting.

“That was the fun of watching you try to guess.” He doesn’t truly expect an answer, or if he does get one, Geralt anticipates it being coy or cryptic. What Jaskier offers up is none of those things. “All of it.”

[javistg]

Prompt idea: an alternate ending for the Hunger games where katniss chooses gale instead of peeta

Hello there! First, I’d like to apologise for not writing the story that you requested. 

I really tried, I promise, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s not because I hate Gale, because I don’t. But, honestly, I think that to have the ending you want, I’d need to re-write the entire trilogy. Because, IMO, Katniss didn’t choose Peeta at the end, when they’re both back in D12. I think she chose him before. 

Maybe she didn’t know how to put it into words, but the feelings were there. More importantly, I think that there are many moments through the trilogy (especially Mockingjay) when we see her NOT choosing Gale. Their relationship becomes strained and distant. The more I thought about it the less likely it seemed.

In the end, Katniss says it best. What I need is the dandelion in the spring… And only Peeta can give me that.

Now, this whole intro doesn’t mean I didn’t write anything. It just means I wrote something else. Canon divergent. There’s a lot of Gale here, but it’s still Everlark.

For those of you still reading, hope you enjoy.

She had been sitting by the fire, drifting in and outof sleep for two weeks, when he knocked on her door.

Sae answered and let him in, making a big fuss abouthis appearance and his new position in District 2.

For the first time since she’d come back to Twelve,Katniss looked up from the flames.

Gale looked good. Healthy. Well fed. His hair was abit on the short side, but Sae was right, the dark uniform he wore suited him.The almost black fabric made his eyes pop.

Gale smiled. His gray eyes soft and worried as he tookher in.

“Hey, Catnip,” he whispered.

“What are you doing here?” she bit back.

“Came to see how you were doing,” he explained.

Katniss looked away. She didn’t want him there,bearing witness to her pain –pain he had partially caused. But she was tiredand lonely.

Her mother was in Four. Her sister was dead.

Haymitch was too busy drowning his sorrow away. AndPeeta… Wherever Peeta was, she hoped he was safe.

Still, she was stubborn, and she had every reason tobe mad at him.

Gale was a big boy –who, apparently, had a big job inTwo—he could take her anger. “Well, you’ve seen me. You can go now,” sheinstructed.

Gale nodded. “I’ll let you be for now. But I’m notleaving. Not yet anyway. I’ll be staying down the street, with the cityplanners. They’re using the house that’s closest to the gates. I’ll be back tosee you later.”

With a quick goodbye to Sae, he was out the door.

Katniss released a slow, deep breath.

She closed her eyes and listened to the wood cracklingin the hearth and let tears, warm and fat, stream down her cheeks.

XXXXX

True to his word, Gale came back.

His visits were never long, but hey were frequent. Henever said much half of the time, just pulled a small stool and sat byKatniss’s side to watch the fire.

These long, shared silences –so similar to the timethey’d spent while out hunting in the woods– reminded her of a different time.Of a different girl and a different boy and the special bond they’d shared.

Katniss said nothing, did nothing. She had nothingleft. The darkness in her soul ran too deep.

On the third day of his trip, Gale removed the shawlcovering Katniss’s shoulders and pulled her up to her feet.

“What are you doing?” she grumbled.

In one swift motion, Gale wrapped her in a thick woolblanket. “I’m taking you out for a walk,” he stated.

Katniss glared at him, but she didn’t resist.

Gently, Gale pushed her out the door.

Cold winter air kissed her cheeks as she walked downthe steps of her house. Katniss tightened her hold on the blanket, wrapping itsnugly around her body to keep the biting chill at bay.

Gale placed his hands on her shoulders and slowlydirected her towards the main gate.

After the months of inactivity, every step was astruggle. But the cold air filling her lungs and Gale’s soft insistence kepther going.

By the time she reached Peeta’s house, she was winded.She stopped and looked up. The place was as dark and empty as it had been whenshe’d last seen it.

“Where is he?” she asked before she could stopherself.

“The Capitol.”

Katniss nodded. A moment later, she turned and headedback to her house.

The next day, Gale repeated the process. This time,Katniss made it all the way to the gates of the village before coming back.

Slowly, Katniss recovered her strength. Each day sheventured further away.

One morning, Gale offered her one of her jacketsinstead of the usual blanket. The sight of the beautiful garment created byCinna’s hands brought tears to her eyes.

Fueled by anger and despair, she snatched the jacketfrom Gale’s grasp and, clutching it against her chest, went back to sit by thefire.

She didn’t leave the house that day.

XXXXX

“The mayor’s coming in tomorrow,” Gale saidone afternoon.

Intrigued, Katniss turned to look at him. “MayorUndersee?”

Gale’s face went paper white. “No. A new mayor.Mayor Undersee is… He didn’t escape. The cleanup crew found five bodies inthe remains of his house.”

A soft, shaky sigh escaped Katniss’s lips as sheconsidered this new information. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hadhoped that Madge had somehow managed to run away on the night of the attack onTwelve.

Her eyes, sharp and pained, locked with Gale’s.“Did you ever thank her?”

He scrunched up his nose. “Who?”

“Madge. She gave you her mother’s medicine, Gale.She saved your life.”

Gale released all the air from his lungs and hunchedforward, burying his hands in his hair. “I didn’t know,” he mumbled.“I didn’t know.”

XXXXX

Days became longer. The snow began to melt. Gradually,Katniss remembered the person she’d once been but, with the memories came thepain, the sorrow, the acute realization of everything she had lost.

They were coming back from one of their walks whenthey heard Katniss’s telephone ringing. It wasn’t unusual, the phone rung everyother day. Katniss always ignored it.

Without giving her any notice, Gale went into thestudy and answered the call.

The conversation was short —just a series of ‘yeses’and ‘nos.’ When it was over, Gale stepped out of the room.

“That was Dr. Aurelius,” he explained pointing at thephone.

A chill ran down Katniss’s back. “What did he want?”

“He says he’s been assigned to your case. He needs totalk to you once a week to fill out a report.”

Katniss scowled. She remembered Doctor Aurelius andhis long naps by her bedside. As far as head doctors went, he wasn’t that bad.But these telephone conversations sounded like a lot of work. She didn’t wantto talk, she just wanted to be left alone.

“Next time the phone rings, just let it ring,” sheinstructed.

For the first time since he’d come back, Gale’s eyesdarkened. His loud, booming voice bounced off the walls. “Enough! This has gotto stop!”

Katniss took a step back. Her hands balled into tightfists at her sides. Her eyes hardened.

“You need to pull yourself out of this funk!” Galeyelled. “You can’t spend your life sleeping in that rocking chair and lookingat the fire, eating the bare minimum and going out for short walks.” He shookhis head and crossed his arms over his chest. “You need to wake up, Katniss!”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And youneed to shower, you’ve barely changed your clothes in all the time I’ve beenhere.”

“I have towake up?” she bit back, her chest heaving and her eyes wild. “How about you? Whatare you even doing here, Gale? Don’t you have a job back in Two?”

“Never mind about my work,” he muttered. “I’m here tohelp you.”

A dark chuckle escaped her lips. “Help me? How? Byforcing me out of the house and telling me to shower? Do you think that’shelping me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted throwing his arms in theair. “But I’m not going to stop trying. Whatever you need, I’ll do. Just talkto me, tell me what you want, and we’ll figure it out together.”

“You want to know what I want?”

Gale nodded.

Katniss closed her eyes and swallowed back her pain.Her whispered words echoed in the room like a clap of thunder. “How about yougive me back my sister?”

Right between the eyes.

Wasn’t that how Peeta once described her archeryskills? She could still see him —the shy, innocent boy who rode with her to theCapitol— telling Haymitch about the squirrels she traded with his dad.

She had never been particularly good with words, butthe hurt in Gale’s face told her she’d done it again. With one clean shot, shehad brought her target down.

Gale’s face crumbled. His anger and frustration seepedout of him leaving nothing but a defeated, empty shell.

Without another word, Katniss ran up the stairs. Thesound of her bedroom door slamming shut reverberated through the building.

XXXXX

Gale was still pacing in circles around the hallwaywhen Katniss rushed back down the stairs with a flower vase in her hands.

Without stopping, she reached the kitchen and threwthe vase’s contents into the embers.

The flowers flared up. A burst of blue flame envelopeda single white rose and devoured it.

With a sharp cry, Katniss smashed the vase on thefloor.

Silence followed.

“He’s gone,” Katniss whispered after a moment.

Gale moved to stand by her side. “Who?”

“President Snow,” she explained. “That was his lastrose, his last message. He’s gone.”

Gale nodded.

A peaceful silence settled over them as they watchedthe rest of the flowers go up in flames.

Looking up to find his eyes, so similar to her own,Katniss asked, “How’s your family?”

“They’re ok. Posy’s going back to school in a coupleof weeks.”

A sad smile settled on Katniss’s lips. “That’s why wedid it all, isn’t it? That’s why we went under the fence every day, why wehunted, and fought, and bled.” A tear ran down her cheek, she wiped it away.“That’s why I volunteered. For her. To keep her safe, to give her a shot at abetter future.”

With a shaky sigh, she continued, “You shouldn’t behere, Gale. You should be there, with them. It may not look that way, but Rory,Vick, and Posy need you a lot more than I do. You are their brother.”

Gale’s voice was broken and full of sorrow. “Katniss,I–,”

“No,” she interrupted, “you fought to give them abetter world. You should be teaching them how to live in it.”

Gale nodded. Tears streaked his cheeks, he didn’t hidethem from her. His pained whisper pushed the air out of her lungs. “Catnip, I’mso so–,”

“Don’t!” she snapped. “Don’t apologize. I know you’resorry, but I’m not ready to forgive you. I know you’re in pain. I know you wantto help. I appreciate what you’ve done, but you need to go back to your family,Gale. There’s nothing left for you here.”

XXXXX

The scraping of a shovel woke her up from a nightmarea couple of days later.  

Dazed, she ran out the front door and around the sideof her house only to stop short.

There, in front of her, was her district partner, herfriend, her neighbor.

His face was flushed from digging the ground under thewindows, but he looked well, thin and covered in scars –like her.

His deep blue eyes had lost the clouded, tortured lookshe had grown used to.  

“You’re back,” she said.

Peeta’s voice was soft and warm in the morning breeze.“Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” he explained.“By the way, he said to tell you he can’t keep pretending he’s treating youforever. You have to pick up the phone.”

Katniss nodded. “I know. He left me a message theother day. I’ll call him back.”

“He’s not that bad, you know?” Peeta said digging thetoe of his boot into the loose earth.

“What are you doing?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“I went to the woods this morning and dug these up,”he said, pointing to a wheelbarrow loaded with scraggly bushes behind him.

Katniss looked past him. Evening primrose, she thought as soon as her eyes landed on theflowers.

“For her,” Peeta added. “I thought we could plant themby the side of the house.”

Without a word, Katniss closed the distance betweenthem and threw her arms around Peeta’s neck. “Thank you.”

Peeta nodded. His arms wrapped around her frame andheld her tight. “I’m sorry, Katniss,” he whispered.

After a long moment, she pulled back. Her eyes wereheavy with tears, but she smiled. “Want to come over for breakfast? Sae iscooking.”

“Sure.” Letting go of her, Peeta took a small stepback. “I’d love to.”

Katniss smiled. “See you later then,” she said, beforeturning and making her way back into her house.

[ehyde]

The Golden Spirit in the Dark Forest

A spirit has lain sleeping, unmoving, in the woods for longer than anyone can remember. For the girl who's by his side as he wakes, nothing will ever be the same, as she learns he is both far more kind and far more terrible than anyone in her village imagined.

(Based on @kanafinwhy‘s idea that every ghost story and cryptid in Kouka can be traced back to Zeno. This is a story about Zeno during the long time he spent alone, seen through the eyes of an ordinary young girl. Thanks to @luckyfilbert for beta reading!)

Fandom: Akatsuki no Yona Wordcount: 5,570 Characters: Zeno, original characters Pairings: none Warnings: body horror, graphic depiction of violence (all related to Zeno) Rating: PG-13 (see above) AO3 link

The morning sun, filtered through the dense evergreen forest canopy, still hasn’t driven away the dewdrops resting on the undergrowth as Sani races along the narrow trail. As she brushes past ferns and horsetails, tiny sprays of water droplets fan out behind her, sparkling in the mottled sunlight. By the time she reaches the crest of the hill, the bottom of her skirt is damp, too, but she hardly cares. She’ll be out long enough for the summer sun to dry it off, and her parents will be none the wiser. She’s not supposed to come this far into the woods alone, but the best blackberries grow in the valley beyond the guardian’s tree.

Sani shivers, and it has nothing to do with the cool morning breeze. She’s almost at the guardian’s tree now, and she’ll have to walk right past it to get to the blackberry bushes. It’s not dangerous. It shouldn’t be frightening. The tree itself is an ancient nutmeg-yew, uncommon but not exactly rare. An ordinary tree. Just like the spirit who lies beneath it appears to be an ordinary boy. But the roots that twist around him, over him, under him—Sani doesn’t like to think about that. Doesn’t like to think about how every year’s winter buries him in snow and ice, only for spring to leave him looking as peaceful as ever before, the soft rise and fall of his chest visible to anyone who pauses long enough to look. The guardian spirit has lain trapped beneath his tree for longer than anyone in the village can remember. Some stories say that he’s an evil spirit, bound there. Other stories say he’s a god. Sani’s father always said that the truth probably lay somewhere in the middle, and he warned Sani never to get too close—and to always leave an offering, just in case.

She rounds the bend in the trail in time to see a beam of sunlight catch the spirit’s face at just the right angle. Dewdrops cover his soft skin and his dandelion-yellow hair, and they sparkle like diamonds. Sani almost wants to step off the trail and reach out and touch him, but she holds herself back. Instead, she bows toward the spirit and pulls a riceball out of her basket, setting it on the ground near the tree as an offering. Of course it’ll just get eaten by bugs, or maybe squirrels, but it would be bad not to leave anything at all. That taken care of, Sani steps back. A shadow shifts, and the guardian’s face loses its ethereal cast, taking on a colder, haunting shadow. Quickly, Sani turns away and races ahead along the trail and doesn’t look back.

The morning sun is finally starting to warm up, and Sani's basket of berries is half-full, when she hears a voice calling out. Echoes carry it back and forth across the valley and she can't make out any words, but it's definitely a human voice, not a bird or animal. Has her father come searching for her? Sani scrambles up the hill back onto the trail, scratching herself a little on blackberry prickles as she climbs.

“Hello?” the voice calls out again. “Someone’s there, right?” No, that isn’t her father. It doesn’t sound like anyone Sani knows. She keeps to the shadows and inches along the trail. A stranger visiting the village could be exciting, but might also be dangerous. “If I could get…a little help…?”

Sani blinks. “Did you fall and hurt yourself?” she calls, looking around. She’s almost past the guardian’s tree now, which means she’s not that far from the village; she could probably help someone walk that far. “Where are you? I don’t see anyone.”

“Ah, Miss…”

The voice is right behind her. Slowly, Sani turns around. There, still lying beneath his tree, still wrapped in roots and vines and covered in a thin blanket of last year’s—maybe many years’—fallen leaves, the forest’s guardian spirit looks up at her with wide, bright eyes.

“Aaah!” Sani jumps, falling backwards over a fallen branch behind her, spilling most of her basket.

“Sorry, sorry! Zeno didn’t mean to scare you!” Slowly, shakily, Sani stands up, but she doesn’t step any closer. “Looks like a big tree branch fell, it’s got Zeno pinned down real good! If you could just help shift it…”

Sani bows to the boy and his tree again. “Guardian spirit of the forest—” She remembers one particular story about the forest guardian. “Are—are you trying to trick me into taking your place?”

“…huh?” The spirit blinks. And Sani doesn’t think he’s acting. He really looks confused. “Guardian…?”

Sani takes a deep breath and darts across the trail. “It’s not a tree branch,” she says, brushing away the layer of leaves and dirt so that the boy—the spirit—can see for himself. Hastily she steps back out of reach.

The spirit shifts his head a little—only a little, as the roots that grow around him allow for hardly any movement—and his eyes widen. He tenses within the confines of his prison and his breathing comes faster. He’s trying to move, frantic, but all he can do is twitch beneath the tight coils of the ancient tree. Sani stares in horrified fascination.

Finally, he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When he opens his eyes again, he seems perfectly calm. “Ah, Zeno must have been asleep for a long time.” He sighs. “It’s a good thing you were close by! Zeno saw that riceball, and thought maybe there was someone close enough to hear. Did the miss drop it?”

“That…it was your offering…”

The spirit closes his eyes. “That thing you called Zeno. Guardian spirit. Zeno isn’t…that.”

Sani takes another step back, shaking. “Then…then you are an evil spirit.”

“Ah…”

“Or—”

“Well, one thing Zeno is, is hungry! If that riceball is for Zeno, could the miss hand it a little closer?”

She shouldn’t get that close. But the riceball is his offering, and keeping it from him could be even worse. And she was right next to him just a minute ago, and nothing bad happened. She steps closer, bending down to pick up the riceball. “It’s dirty,” she begins, but the spirit doesn’t object. Sani holds it out, then realizes that she’s going to have to actually feed it to him. His arms are pinned in place. And it’s hard to believe he’s an evil spirit trying to trick her when she’s watching him spill bits of rice down his face as he bites off messy pieces. Somehow, she gets the impression he’d be a messy eater even with hands and utensils. “Um,” she says when he’s finished. “Would you like some blackberries too?”

The whole time the spirit eats, Sani studies the network of roots covering him. Here and there bits of thread peek out from under them, remnants of fabric long since worn away by the weather. A glint of gold catches her eye, too: a necklace she never noticed before, its chain tangled but surprisingly unbroken. The medallion itself is half buried beneath the biggest root. Wider than her leg, that root presses against the side of the spirit's head and crosses his chest and stomach from shoulder to hip. “I don’t think I can get you out,” Sani confesses, when the spirit, his face dripping with purple juice, has eaten the last berry.

“It’s a problem,” the spirit agrees. “But Zeno’s been in worse spots!”

Sani stands up. She’s decided. Setting the spirit free won’t be bad. Won’t be dangerous. “I’ll go get Father’s axe,” she says.

“Ah, wait—” the spirit calls after her, but she’s already running back down the trail towards the village.

After what she saw in the woods, Father's workshop seems far too normal. The forest guardian woke up! How can Father go about his day like nothing's different? He's talking to a customer—the village mayor, actually, who Father is going to build a new house for—which means that he just might be distracted enough that Sani can grab his axe while he's not looking. She tiptoes across the dusty room. The big axe is heavier than she thought! Maybe she should take the little hatchet instead. Or a saw? No, it would take forever to cut through those big roots with those!

But as Sani lifts the axe down from the wall, she loses her balance and drops it. She jumps back as it falls to the ground with a thud. “Sani, what are you doing?” her father turns to ask her.

“Nothing!” He only looks at her. “I—I need this.”

“What possibly for?” the mayor asks.

“Um—”

Father sighs. “Really, Sani, what for? If it's a project you want to make, we can work on it together in the evening. But you should be helping your mother right now.”

“It's not that!”

“Sani…” There's a warning note to his voice now.

“The forest guardian woke up!”

Father blinks. “…what?”

“I know I'm not supposed to go that far in the woods by myself but the blackberries are ripe so I did, and the forest guardian, he's awake, only he's still stuck in his tree and…and I was going to cut him out,” she finishes.

Father and the mayor give each other a look. “Your daughter has quite the imagination,” the mayor says.

“She wouldn't make up a story like this,” Father says, before Sani has a chance to protest. “We’ll go investigate,” he says. “Sani, wait here.”

Everyone in the village knows the path to the guardian’s tree; Sani doesn’t need to show them the way. But she follows anyway, and when they get there, the spirit doesn’t look at all surprised to see the two men. “Hello there!” he greets them. It’s hard to remember how peaceful he looked when he was asleep. Awake, the reclining pose he’s forced to keep looks awkward and uncomfortable.

The mayor makes the sign against the evil eye. Father just looks at the spirit for a long time. “We know you’re not human,” he finally says.

“That’s right,” the spirit admits.

“You’re a monster,” says the mayor. “A demon! I don’t know what you said to young Sani that she would try to set you free!” It’s only then that Sani realizes neither her father nor the mayor brought anything that could cut through the roots that bind the spirit in place. Maybe the spirit expected that—his left hand is free now, and there are scratches in the ground and fresh dirt all around it. But Sani doesn't think he'll be able to dig his whole body free the way he got his hand out.

“I don’t understand,” she says. “Why shouldn’t we free him?”

Father takes her hand. “Sani,” he says. “Don’t be fooled by appearances. It may look helpless, but a spirit like this is powerful.” Sani glances down at his free hand again. Is that really true? “Setting it free would put everyone in the village in danger.”

“But—”

“Look, Sani. The tree itself has bound him here. A creature like this goes against nature, and even the forest knows it.”

“I…” Sani thinks back to the uneasy feeling she’d always gotten whenever she walked past the guardian’s tree before. Were the spirit’s smile and cheerful words just a trick after all? But he was so happy just to eat a few blackberries!

“Zeno can’t even say you’re wrong,” says the spirit. “But I won’t hurt your village, or anyone else. I swear it. Zeno doesn’t even know where your village is!”

The mayor shakes his head. “We cannot set you free.”

“Ah, that’s what Zeno guessed.” He looks past the two men and into Sani’s eyes. “It’s okay! This tree watched over Zeno for a long time, so it would be a shame to hurt it just to get Zeno out. But things will turn out alright in the end!”

Father turns his back before the spirit finishes speaking. He grabs Sani by the hand, pulling her away, and Sani casts one final glance back at the spirit before she’s forced to follow. The spirit is smiling, but his eyes are scared and afraid.

When they get home, the mayor forbids anyone from approaching the guardian's tree. From even entering the forest. Sani doesn’t understand. Father and the mayor should know what they’re talking about, so if they say the spirit is dangerous…but Sani is scared for him, not of him. That night when she goes to bed, she twists herself up in her blanket and holds as still as she can and tries to imagine what it's like to be held so tight, but she can't do it. She squirms free of the blanket and cries herself to sleep.

The next morning is gray and cloudy, and whispers follow her throughout the day. “I heard you spoke to the forest guardian,” her father’s apprentice, Dae-won says. “Is that true? You’re braver than I thought!” He’s two years older than her and has always treated her like a child, up until now.

“It wasn’t like that,” says Sani. “He wasn’t trying to do anything bad.” She doesn’t think.

“Still,” says Dae-won.

“It was easy to talk to him,” says Sani. “He was nice!” She doesn’t want to think that was a trick. “I don’t know why everyone’s so sure he wants to hurt the village. He was friendly, he really was! I want to go back and see him again,” she confesses.

Dae-won looks away. “Sani,” he says. “The mayor…probably has a good reason to think he’d want to hurt us.”

“…Dae-won? Do you know what it is?”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re only twelve…no one ever dared you?”

“Dared me to what?”

“To try to wake the guardian up.”

“No…” Sani pauses. She thinks about everything the spirit must have slept through, rain and thunder and freezing cold and who knows what wild animals. “But it never worked, right?”

“That’s just it,” says Dae-won. “Nothing worked.”

It takes a moment for Sani to understand what he means. “Dae-won—you didn’t hurt him, did you?”

“I just poked him with a stick a little!” He pauses. “Garan used a knife. And he bled but then it was like he’d never been cut at all. I don’t know what else…how far back…I mean, all the boys do it.” Sani takes a step back. She wants to ask how could you? but she remembers the mix of fear and fascination she’d once felt—still feels?—towards the sleeping guardian and she wonders, if a friend had dared her—what would she have done?

“They're scared of what he'll do in return,” she realizes. The offerings Father always insisted they leave…were they an apology? “It's not fair! They're punishing him for something they did!”

“It’s not like they mean it as a punishment,” Dae-won says. “They’re just being careful, just until he falls asleep again. Then it won’t matter anymore.”

“What if…what if I dared you to help me free him?”

Dae-won lifts his hands in protest. “No way,” he says. “No way.”

“Coward.” Sani makes to leave, the turns back around to shout “you’re just as bad as them!” before she storms away.

That night, she takes Father’s hatchet (after admitting the axe was too heavy after all) and sneaks out into the woods by herself. She’s never been this way in the dark before—that’s always been against the rules too, dangerous for practical reasons that actually made sense. But the clouds that darkened the day are gone now, and the moon is nearly full, and it’s not hard to find her way. “Guardian spirit!” she whispers as she gets closer. She’s not sure why she’s whispering.

“Zeno’s still here!”

She jumps again, still startled by his voice. “I came to get you out!” she says. By now the spirit has dug both hands free, but that’s as far as he’s come. He can’t bend his arms enough to dig any further. She lifts the hatchet, about to start chopping some of the smaller roots, when the spirit raises his voice to stop her.

“No, wait!” he says. “Zeno meant it, yesterday. If you cut through all these roots, the tree would probably die.”

“It’s only a tree…” Sani frowns. “Or is it? Is it a spirit too?”

“Hah! It’s only a tree! But it was Zeno’s home for a long time, right?”

“Well…you could cut it down and build a house and then it would still be your home!”

“Ah, you’re clever!” says the spirit. “But also…this tree is probably older than Zeno, so Zeno wants it to stick around.”

“Then how do I set you free?”

The spirit casts a hard look at Sani’s hatchet and she thinks maybe he's reconsidering. “Ah, no, Zeno can't ask you to do that.” He sighs. “It'll take a while, but Zeno’s sure to get out eventually.”

“I guess I could help you dig, too…” says Sani. She kneels down beside the spirit and starts working at the dirt underneath his arm, loosening it with the back end of the hatchet's head.

“Say, did the miss bring anything to eat?” the spirit asks as she works.

Sani gasps. “I forgot an offering! I'll bring plenty of food next time!”

“Maybe the miss can bring a blanket, too,” the spirit suggests. “It's pretty chilly out here at night!”

“…really?”

“Well, maybe the miss isn't cold because she's working hard!”

“No, I mean…you were covered in snow every winter…”

“…oh.” The spirit falls silent, and Sani returns to her work. She thinks that if she can just pry a little more dirt out, make a little more space, he'll be able to free his whole arm. Then the hatchet slips in her fingers and the blade cuts a deep gash just below the spirit’s shoulder. He yells, startled, and warm, sticky blood wells up beneath Sani’s fingers.

“I’m sorry!” She jerks back and drops the hatchet, but as she stares at the bloody gash, it closes up on its own. Just like Dae-won said. She keeps staring. Finally, far too late, she asks “are you alright?”

He nods, staring at her like he's waiting for something else. Then, finally, he looks up at the sky. “The moon’s setting soon,” he says. “Miss should probably go home before it’s dark!”

“Oh! Let me just—” A little more digging, finishing what she’d started before…that…happened, and the spirit’s arm is free. “Now you can do more yourself.” She still doesn't really think he can dig himself out. The really big root isn't holding him against the ground, but against the tree trunk. But even so, with one arm free he doesn't have to hold so still. Right away he reaches for his golden necklace, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths as he grips it tight. “Um…I'll come back tomorrow night,” says Sani.

The spirit looks up at her. “Leave that hatchet here,” he says. “Then Zeno can get more done.”

It’s true. With a tool, he could do a lot more than with just his hands. She wishes she could, but she shakes her head. “Father would notice if it was missing. Sorry! But I promise I'll come back!”

Sani stumbles through the next day half asleep, waiting for night to come again. She goes to bed and closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep until her parents have gone to sleep too—but when she opens her eyes again, it's morning. Will the forest guardian think she forgot about him? She gathers up as much extra food as she can sneak away, to make up for both the forgotten offering and her absence. In the afternoon, as she helps Mother chop firewood with that same hatchet, she thinks about how much easier it would be if the spirit just let her chop through those tree roots. She could free him all in one night! And…it’s not like he could exactly stop her from doing it. But she doesn’t want him to be mad at her when he’s free.

“The miss came back!” As far as Sani can tell, the only progress the spirit has made in the past two days is to untangle all the roots and vines from his face, so that he can turn and lift his head however he wants. She thinks she'd want to be able to look around, too. “Zeno thought maybe the miss got in trouble.”

“No, I just…”

“Or…or was scared to come back.”

“I wasn't scared the first time!” Sani protests.

“Well…” The spirit looks down at his shoulder, at the place where Sani cut him by accident.

“I already knew about that,” Sani confesses. “My friend said—” No. If she tells him—but he's looking at her expectantly, and she has to go on. “My friend said it was a game that older kids played. To try and wake you up.”

The spirit closes his eyes for a long time. Sani can't tell what he's thinking. “Please! Don't hurt the village!” she begs. “They didn't mean—” His hand grabs hers. Sani freezes. She didn't realize he could move that far, or that she'd come so close.

“Your village is safe,” says the spirit. He looks up at her and smiles. “Yep! It's better if Zeno stays away from people, right?”

“I—I brought you an offering this time. Dumplings. And apples! Oh, and a blanket, too!” She sets the basket of dumplings where the spirit can reach them, sets the blanket aside for now, and gets to work. But there's not much more digging to be done. Roots have spread out under him, too, and getting the dirt out won't pry their wooden grip apart. “I'm going to have to cut them,” Sani says. “Or you'll be stuck here forever.”

“No.”

“Please!”

He reaches for her again, a gentle touch. “Miss, I promise. Nothing is forever except Zeno himself.”

Sani looks away. “Father and the mayor and everyone else hope you’ll just go back to sleep.”

“Ah…probably not. Zeno doesn’t think he’ll sleep like that again.”

“How did it happen?” Sani can’t keep back her curiosity. “Were you cursed? Did someone bind you to the tree?” She casts a curious glance at that golden necklace, which lasted all those years unscathed. Does it hold some kind of power?

“No…Zeno just felt like taking a nap. Miss, have you ever wanted to lie down and just never move again?”

She inches back. He won’t let her cut the roots, but he’s sure he’ll get out eventually. Is he trying to trick her into taking his place after all? “No,” she says. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Zeno doesn’t either, not anymore.”

“Then—”

“Zeno’s sure he’ll wriggle out eventually!”

“Even if—even if I can’t do any more to help, I’ll bring offerings every night until you’re free!”

“The miss is so cute! But clouds are coming in, best to get back home before it starts to rain.”

Sani glances up at the sky. The moon is shadowed and nearly invisible. “Right!”

“Ah…maybe this time the miss can leave the hatchet?”

“There’s nothing you could do with it anyway,” Sani says, shaking her head. “And if Father finds out I came, he’ll never let me come back.”

As Sani makes her way back down the trail, she wonders if she really can come out here every night. It might be a long time until the spirit agrees to let her chop through the roots—if he ever does at all. He lay sleeping for maybe a hundred years and didn’t even know it—so maybe waiting like that won’t bother him? But even if her parents never learn she’s sneaking out at night, winter will come eventually. With the snows, the trail is nearly impassable, and if the spirit is still here…he’ll be buried in it again and he won’t sleep through it this time, he said so himself. She squeezes her eyes shut to hold back the tears threatening to flow. If that happens, if it comes to that time, she’ll set him free no matter what he says!

As she opens her eyes again, she pauses as a shadow shifts in the woods ahead of her. The forest guardian is safe and friendly, but that doesn’t mean the forest itself isn’t dangerous. But it goes still, and she takes another step, holding the little hatchet out in front of her. Casting her eyes around the darkness to see if there’s a fallen branch she can wield. It was nothing, she tells herself. Just a shifting cloud.

Then the moon cuts through the darkness and two eyes shine back at her. A scream escapes Sani’s lips. Mountain cats don’t come this close to the village—but men haven’t been hunting in the woods for days now. Maybe one grew bold.

It’s between her and home. Slowly, Sani takes a step backwards. The eyes watch her. Grow closer. She turns and runs and doesn’t stop until she comes to the guardian’s tree.

“Miss!” the spirit calls, as Sani falls to her knees in front of him. “I heard you scream, and I couldn't—”

“There’s—a mountain cat—” She dares to glance back, and sees nothing. But she knows she didn't outrun it. It’s playing with her. You can't outrun a mountain cat.

“Miss,” says the spirit. “I can protect you, but you'll have to help me.”

“The roots—” she begins.

“No time. Now give me your hatchet, and don't look away.” She holds it out and before she can question him he brings it down, not on the thick roots binding him but on his own leg. Sani screams. Another sharp chop and a jerk of his leg and it pulls free, because his foot—because his foot, on the other side of the tight twist of roots, is cut off and spilling blood and—

Don't look away, the spirit said, and Sani wants to but she can’t, and as she stares, the dark night hiding far too little, tendrils of flesh reach out across his ankle, knitting back together. “I'm fine, see? Miss?” Sani realizes she's crying. “Miss, I need you to do the rest,” says the spirit. “I can't reach.”

“…no!”

The undergrowth rustles in the distance. “Miss, do it quickly,” the spirit urges.

Gingerly, Sani takes the hatchet. Lifts it. Swings it down toward the spirit’s shoulder and squeezes her eyes tight at the last second. Afraid to look, she slowly opens them again—only to see a shallow, off-target gash already closing back up. The spirit makes no sound, but he doesn’t hide the pained look on his face, either. Then all that’s left are the warm droplets trailing down Sani’s fingers.

She understands. If she doesn’t do this fast, it’s worse than doing nothing at all. Sani knows how to wield the little hatchet, has known since she was small, working at her father's side. Swing, chop. Swing, chop. But this is a person. She's killing someone, says the blood dripping down her face, say the soft flesh and the snap of bone, nothing at all like cutting through solid wood. Then the spirit twists forward and his shoulder is free, his shoulder is whole again. He's alive. “You did good,” he says, reaching up and patting her head with a hand that moments ago lay dismembered on the ground. “Now keep going.”

Swing, chop. Swing, chop. His thigh, and she has to grab his leg by the ankle and pull to free it. Swing, chop. Swing, chop. She’s past thinking now. Swing, chop. His—his neck. He never stops looking at her. Then finally all that’s left is the great root that snakes across his chest. Swing—

“I can’t.”

“Keep going,” the spirit commands. “You’re past the worst already.”

“No, I—” She swings the hatchet again. It bounces off his chest like striking iron. His skin looks different, rough and scaled, glittering under the hint of moonlight. What have I done? What is he?

“Ah,” says the spirit. He shifts, stretches, and that great root starts to bend, and for a moment it seems like he'll push it aside as easily as grass. Then his eyes widen. “Miss, get back!” He grabs her by the wrist and pulls her past him just as the mountain cat leaps. Pain shoots up her arm as she falls to the ground. Behind her, there's a thunderous crack amidst the growls and the snarls, which turn to shrieks and squeals, and there's a crash of branches, and then—

“Miss. Miss, it’s safe now. It’s gone.” Sani tries to stand and winces at the pain. “Your arm,” the spirit says. “It’s hurt?”

She falls back to her knees and finally her sobs come freely, the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She's not crying for the pain in her arm, but for the boy trying to comfort her even after—after she—

He gently lifts her chin up to look at him, wipes the tears from her face with rough fingers. Her vision clears, and her eyes meet his. “What are you?” Sani whispers. “How are you—?”

“Better not to ask how Zeno’s still alive,” says the spirit.

“How are you smiling?”

“Oh! It’s that Zeno was finally able to use his powers to protect someone.” He helps her to her feet, then turns to look mournfully at the tree. That great root is splintered like a twig. “Zeno should have let the miss chop it up from the start,” he says. “It’s only a tree, in the end. Better that than for the miss to carry this with her.”

This is a broken arm and a chipped hatchet and blood-drenched clothing, but it's more than that and they both know it. Sani looks down at the blood on her hands. “Don't think about that,” says the spirit. “It doesn't matter.” He reaches for the blanket—it mostly escaped the bloodbath—and drapes it over his shoulders like a cloak. Then he pulls Sani to his side, supporting her weight easily. “Come on, Miss,” he says. “Let's get you home.”

The sun has just crested the horizon as they leave the forest behind, and as Sani glances up at the spirit’s face, his fading scales catch the light, looking so much like the dewdrops that rested on his skin only days ago. A lifetime ago. Below, commotion fills the village.

“They're looking for you,” says the spirit. “Can you make it from here on your own?”

“No!” She holds on tight with her good hand, panicked at the thought that he’ll leave before she can—before she can what? Make things right?

“Miss, it's a bad idea for Zeno to come to your village.”

“But—I can find you real clothes, and food, and…” It won’t happen. They both know that. “Where will you go?” she asks.

“…north, maybe. It’s been a long time…” He laughs. “It’s been a long time since Zeno was anywhere!”

The spirit stays by her side as they keep walking. Then there are shouts below, and running, and her father stands before them on the path. The spirit stiffens. Father is holding his big axe. “What have you done to my daughter, you monster?” He lunges at them, and the spirit’s scales are gone, and Sani knows all too well what that axe will do.

“Stop! Don’t hurt him!” Then she freezes. Looks down at her hands, still caked with dried blood. Don’t hurt him. “He—a mountain cat attacked me, and he saved my life,” she says. “He’s not a monster,” she says. “I’m the—”

She hears the spirit’s sharp intake of breath beside her. Father has lowered his axe and is reaching out to her, and she runs to him, then turns back to look at the spirit. He’s smiling at her, but he still looks sad. “Mister, your daughter is a very brave girl,” he says. “A good girl. She hasn’t done anything that anyone should punish her for. Miss,” he says, “you set me free. So, because of that…” He pauses, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something or not. “Because of that, Zeno will be on his way!” Then he bows to them both, turns, and walks back up the trail until his bright golden hair is once more lost in the darkness of the woods.

Had the guardian of the forest ever returned to Sani’s village, he would not have found her there. It’s not her home anymore, it can’t be, and after a few more years of pretending it is, she leaves. She heads north.

Zeno does return though, eventually—after all, he returns everywhere eventually. A hundred years later no one remembers him, and the villagers hang white ribbons from a dead tree and tell tales of the heroic maiden who banished the evil spirit of the forest. Two hundred years later, they still tell that story, though the tree and the whole forest have been cut down and turned into farmland. Five hundred years later, the village and all its stories are gone.

[everlarkingjoshifer]

The Girl In Front of Me.....

So because @everlarkedalways is hosting a Re-thg reading and we’re currently on chapters 1 and 2. I decided to write a small tiny drabble. (which is rare considering all of my writing is hella stupid long) Normally I’m not much to write about little overlooked details but there was just one that I couldn’t ignore that was mentioned by @ghtlovesthg. Here’s your drabble dear, Hope you like it. Now I will like to mention that this is on a whim kind of thing and it hasn’t been beta’d by anyone other than me... So please be kind because I tend to have a chock full of mistakes. Punctuation is not my strength.... Oh and also I found this pic online and decided to make a tiny banner based on what I thought Prim’s clothes looked like. I put in her initials on the ends of the sweater because I thought that would be something that I feel Mrs. Everdeen would do.  

Thing that was new/forgotten: I thought Katniss tried to sell Prim’s baby clothes at the Hob, but she’s too afraid to go there, at first. Instead, she brings them to the “public market” in the town square, which is also mentioned in Chapter One. I totally forgot this existed, but it seems like it could be a wonderful setting for some fanfics/drabbles (hint hint hint hint)!

Anyways, Here it is Ya’ll,

Peeta Mellark looked at the girl in front of him, his daughter. Her brown hair split into two braids with bright green ribbons. He was startled by how much she looked like Katniss. Except the eyes, those were his. Her crystalline baby blues stared back at him. The edges of them crinkled in the corners by her toothy smile. She danced around in circles, her little legs clopping loudly against the floorboards. Yes, she wasn’t the stealthy one either but the two little ribbons that danced about her with each little spring of her steps reminded him of another two-braid girl who almost didn’t survive the harsh winter. 

xxxxxxx

She’s was back. The girl with the chestnut hair and desperate eyes.She’s clutching a two little sweaters, if they could be called that at all. They’re so threadbare and bedraggled. I notice the way her crazed hungry eyes plead for someone, anyone to listen to her pleas, but it’s useless. She’s rebuffed as though she were, little more than a nuisance. The girl with two unkempt braids, with pieces of hair sticking in odd angles in the sides. Her smudged nose turning red in an effort to keep her tears from falling. She’s hungry and alone. Her father died in a mining explosion that trapped him it’s ruthless grasp. Her mother rendered silent and ghost like. However, the girl with the brown hair, the one with the hungry desperate look. The girl who unknowingly entranced me with her lilting, angelic singing stood brave before the mayor as she was handed a small cold medal hanging on a strip of ribbon. She shook with unshed tears as she hugged her little sister to her letting the small girl’s wails surround her and soak her thin sweater as their mother stood next to them in a trance like state. Katniss, like her namesake stood strong and supportive. 

I knew she must’ve been hurting but she refused to show it. I don’t know how she did it. I don’t think I could’ve stood as stoically proud knowing my father had dies. But there she was accepting a sack of extra grain and other pitiful items that would run out sooner rather than later. The light in her eyes extinguished when she simply nodded as the Mayor read off her Fathers name praising him for his undying loyalty to the district. For an unwarranted sacrifice. Days had passed and her mother still remained the same precipitating their inevitable hunger.   

The once happy Everdeen family simply wilted and there was no warm light coming from their cabin. Darkness and tears rung loudly from their end, but nothing changed. I could see the little sister’s face become more sunken and the dark circles in her pretty blue eyes were rimmed red from constant crying. Still, no one helped. Us the merchants were not really the charitable bunch even among ourselves and the people from the Seam had next to nothing to offer. 

I was becoming increasingly worried that Katniss and her family would die off if no one helped. I was ashamed to admit that some part of me had become selfish. I couldn’t bare to lose the one girl who brought a small sense of peace and joy into my life. Her voice reminded me of kinder days and where would I be without such a voice? What else could I do to help? Mother would never allow me to offer a helping hand, let alone think about helping. My father wouldn’t dare speak up. He was easily cowed by my mother’s erratic wrath and my two older brothers wouldn’t dare think of associating with the Seam moles as my mother referred to them. I think her prejudice was jealously unwarranted but then again, many things were. I’m not old enough to help and I’ve never felt more useless. 

She’s walking around clutching her sister’s baby sweaters in one hand and her other hand balled up into a fist. All pride being taken by the harsh wind as people shake their head impatiently in her direction telling her to “leave them alone” or to “get lost”. So cold hearted we had become. So selfish that my people refuse to acknowledge or even realize when someone else was in pain. Her frustration began to mirror towards me and despite all I wanted to do I had to sit there and watch as Katniss Everdeen begged for someone to take her sister’s bedraggled sweater for exchange in food or maybe some coins. I shook my head and went back into the bakery unable to witness anymore desperation and misery. It wasn’t until the morning crowd dispersed that I heard my mother shooing someone away. 

“Go away girl. Get out of my garbage cans. There’s nothing for you here and if you come back I’ll be sure to call the peacekeepers on you!” my mother screeched. 

I hear a scuffle of feet and I nudged my head slightly to see who it was. Katniss’s wild eyes danced in front of my own and I had finally seen enough. It was unbearable to see her barter her few belongings away, but to see her search our garbage cans was not acceptable. 

Before I even knew I’d decided. I brought two hearty loaves towards the oven and let them sit in front of the fire until the outer layer turned black and only just managed to turn my head towards the door when I felt a smack on the back of my head. 

“What do you think you’re doing? You idiot! We can’t sell these!” yelled my mother making me cringe from the high decibels that emanated from her mouth. I frowned and she back handed me so hard that my vision reeled about for a few seconds. “Don’t you dare sass me boy or I’ll teach you what I’m really capable of!” 

She reaches for the burning loaves and grasps me by the arm, yanking me towards the door. Rain pelts harshly against the ground and the unforgiving wind whips my face making me feel my fresh wound. I knew it would be swelling soon but I didn’t care at the moment. Mother smacks me on the back of the head again and orders me to feed the bread to the pigs before she stomps back into the bakery. I look over at Katniss who is huddled against a tree sweaters forgotten in the mud. She’d given up and I my resolution was reinforced once again as she looks over at me and squints curiously. I throw one loaf of bread and then the other before disappearing back into the bakery. 

I pray that she’d picked up my offering or I’d be in a world of trouble if my mother realized what I’d been up to. 

The next morning I see Katniss staring at me. She looked like she wanted to say something but she pauses when she sees my black eye. She frowns looking at the ground. Her wordless gratitude hanging in the air. Her eyes transfixes on a single dandelion. I kick myself inwardly for my cowardice. I should’ve approached her but something in me knew that I’d probably embarrass her further if I mention throwing bread at her. Then again, I should’ve walked out there and helped her. I shouldn’t have thrown the bread. I should’ve gone out there and given it to her instead. I sigh as I walk into to class kicking myself every step of the way. 

I hardly think I would ever deserve the girl in front of me...

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Two little arms encircle his shoulders and a tiny giggle perforates Peeta’s thoughts. His son looks over to the side of his face and Katniss’s steely silver eyes impishly smile at him. “I supwised you daddy.” 

Peeta laughs and nods, “Yes you did. Now what are you gonna do?” 

The curly haired blond boy looks at him thoughtfully for a second and starts to wiggle his tiny, chubby fingers, “Tickle time!” 

Peeta pretends to be at his son’s mercy crying defeat as Willow his daughter giggles at the absurdity of it all. 

“Okay Rye, you’ve won! Please I can’t take any more tickles.” Peeta implored.

“what’s going on here?” asks his wife. Her eyebrow raised as she tries to hide a smile. 

“I supwised daddy, and now I’m tickling him! I won!” Rye triumphantly announces. 

Katniss congratulates him and walks over to pluck her son from his father’s back and sits him on her hip, “Are we still up for that picnic?” 

Peeta smiles and nods as Willow walks over to them with her jacket on and ready, “I’m all set, I want to go!” she looks over at her dad expectantly, “Are the cookies we made yesterday in the basket?” 

Peeta nods and his daughter gifts him with a brilliant smile. He is once again, shattered by the resemblance between Willow and Katniss. He still can’t believe how he came to marry the girl he always loved. 

Willow pulls on his arm as Katniss walks out with Rye on her hip and the picnic blanket in the other hand. “Daddy, Let’s go!” 

Peeta nods and picks up their lunch basket before walking out the door and locking it and walking behind the girl in front of him....