#i am still shaking violently so i guess it wasn't matching after all

[raposarealm]

Madokami has had mercy on me and I have survived another day

Why does every team have to have Mugenroha ;-; I feel a little bad griping about that too, Iroha doesn't deserve to have her ultimate self be remembered as 'a nuisance in Mirrors' But she is...

[sodalitea]

I - Miracles of the White Nights [Il Dottore x Reader/OC]

For Valentine’s Day I’m sharing the first chapter of my longer fanfiction about Il Dottore and my Genshin OC Marie Snezhevna (this story can be perceived as reader insert type of thing; the characters' names play a big role in the plot and I decided to pick them by myself). In this chapter I have not provided the most detailed background of the current circumstances between Zandik and Marie, but I plan to do so in the future. I don’t really know if I’ll update it in any regular schedule, but for sure I’m going to continue this story. Meanwhile, enjoy!

TW: Minimally suggestive! Mentions of Marie's guesses about Dottore's true intentions.  Summary: Small gestures make a big difference. Due to the long lasting effects of a serious argument with Il Dottore, Marie Shnezhevna gets degraded on the lower position in Haeresys despite being one of his most reliable workers in the lab. Three months later a ceasefire is established. Zandik finds surprising but efficient way to trick her into getting promoted again. Don't repost my artworks/writings please! I'll appreciate likes, comments and reblogs. I am the author of both text and signature illustarion. ♡ English is my second language, there may occur some grammar issues!

AO3 link

I - Miracles of the White Nights

“The days in Snezhnaya seem identical. Wherever you go, you will find your hair and eyelashes frozen. It's so cold that you have to keep moving your body constantly in order to survive, even in the properly chosen clothing. Everywhere you look, you'll be surrounded by the snowy desert. If you stray too far from human settlements, your eyes will be obscured by one of the sudden snowstorms. Bunch of snowflakes will cut into your face like tiny, marvelously crafted blades. Somewhere on the horizon you may spot the outlines of deep, impenetrable, coniferous forests. You will find it difficult to stand straight due to the violent blows of the whistling wind trying to bury you alive in the frosty grave. It's worth mentioning that the typical Snezhnayan days are rather short in comparison to local nights that can last even for months. This land is harsh, but it still possesses unique, raw beauty. Those cold nights offer truly charming views in the form of multi-colored aurorae you couldn't experience anywhere else in equally rich form. The artistry of almighty Cryo Archon is undeniable, only the canvas she uses to paint her abstract compositions are painfully fake. Of course, these aren't the only charms of the Ice Nation. This country is huge and full of contrasts. What may seem surprising is this special time of the year when the sun takes control over the sky completely, so it doesn't set at all. The local population describes this phenomenon as the "Miracle of the White Nights''. Over the course of four hundred years, one could experience many of them, but they could not compare to the fragrant, inflaming nights in the Nation of Wisdom.”

Zandik, as he wasn't holed up in the deepest dungeons of Haeresys, stopped next to one of the windows in the southern part of his mansion and locked his gaze on the distance. The scarlet irises wandered somewhere along the glittering horizon, seemingly without any specific goal as the Harbinger enjoyed pervasive silence. Since he got rid of the segments, it had been happening more and more often. Sometimes he was just trying to shake off a strange feeling of lightness inside his skull. He was fed up with everything. Exhausted with the amount of delayed work. Instead of dealing with serious matters, he wasted too much time on trivial affairs such as correcting the mistakes of people less competent than himself. For centuries he wasn't relying on his employees that much and now he was just even more disappointed with them. After all, they were only humans with ordinary lifespans, without the satisfying amount of experience that would possibly match the level of Teyvat's most powerful mind. Zandik felt frustrated by the lack of quick alternatives to slow down the pace of his own work. He was alone with all of the projects he started when his other selves were still present. By the time he still handled most of the things on his own in different forms, but for now he couldn't even rely on himself truly. This would be a disgrace to him if he addressed this issue to Pierro or their Archon, since for hundreds of years he had been an exceptional professional, the master of planning and reacting quickly to every breakthrough revelation. He was always a few steps before everyone. At this stage, it was not possible for him to return to such a tedious work alone. It would be much less problematic if only deadlines never existed. Escape in thought was his way to break away from the unfavorable situation at least for a short moment. His thoughts traveled to the place where it never snowed. To the forests that sheltered a much richer variety of living organisms. The days were longer there, and the hot nights often made it impossible to fall asleep. The scents in Sumerian air could effortlessly mess with the restless minds of angry young men living for some greater purposes… For the Second Harbigner of Shneznaya, looking towards Sumeru was an involuntary, bitter flirtation with his own past. Currently he was in a place so incongruous to his homeland, but it was the only nation that guaranteed him complete freedom and support in turning his wildest daydreams into reality. It was the only place in Teyvat that allowed him to prove himself the way he was. He had everything he wanted to continue his journey and test the ideas that many would not even dare to think about… And yet, somewhere in his suppressed consciousness, he understood perfectly well that even here he was just a stranger meant to simply play his part. This time, as the man continued staring out the window, he heard the echo of someone's slow footsteps on the marble floor behind him. He recognized the sequence of these steps extraordinarily well… Those were inimitable. If only their owner walked barefoot, she would reach him in perfect silence. The corners of the Doctor's mouth turned up involuntarily.

“Marie Snezhevna,” he said without even turning towards the woman. Instead, he laced his fingers together behind his back. “Is this an emergency? At this hour I would rather expect to witness your presence in the laboratory or in your chamber.”

His voice echoed crystal clear between the walls of the corridor occupied by him and his underling. As usual, the scientist chose his words in a stiff, somewhat archaic way. Although it added seriousness and supposed politeness to his overall image, he himself seemed distant. Despite Zandik's cold demeanor, his interlocutor did not feel rejected. She was used to talking to him. Marie's interactions with Il Dottore resembled rituals based on some unwritten rules which the main participants managed to learn over the last few years. If there was an ordinary side witness there, the said unrefined observer could experience the eagerness to say that both Marie and Dottore enjoyed engaging in these subtle games.

“I will leave immediately if I interrupted something important,” the woman replied calmly, keeping her demeanor professional. Zandik remained silent for a moment, giving her no answer. This made the woman sigh heavily before she turned her back towards him to fulfill her promise. The quiet rustle of her clothes alerted the Harbinger, who slowly turned towards her and squinted his eyes hidden under the raven mask.

“Stop.”

It was an order. Naturally, the woman immediately stopped and turned her face towards him, allowing him to continue his speech. After all, she had to respect his will. He cleared his throat, seemingly offended by the whole situation.

“You wouldn't come here without a reason. Besides, I don't think it's respectful to be in a hurry when you're talking to your boss.” Indeed, he had known her for a long time and he knew what he could expect from her. He had to play it cool, precisely because — since he had fully understood his own position over the last few months – he didn't want to miss the opportunity to finally talk to Marie alone.

Since he delivered the two gnosis to Tsaritsa, he cut off almost all forms of communication with his former main assistant except her reports on the progress of her research under his command. Although the heretical scientist usually didn't care about time, now it felt like the whole eternity had passed. A really strange thing. Deep down in his heart he was a simple coward, or maybe his unwavering patience was reasonable and had finally paid off as the woman herself announced her readiness for a face-to-face confrontation? Marie shrugged her arms and shifted her body weight to one of her hips before shaking her head, sighing again with a faint smile on her lips. It was an extremely familiar gesture, as if everything before had never had the opportunity to set them apart.

“Of course, naturally…” she looked up at him, and then her facial features softened noticeably. “I just want to thank you for everything you did for me. I really didn't expect this. Certainly not after I caused additional problems in a very crucial situation. I made it all about myself. I think you deserve an apology for what I said, when I stated that you're…”

“Your apology is unnecessary.”

The Harbinger made a gentle gesture with his hand to silence her. He didn't want Marie to take old skeletons out of the closet. He also did not want to elaborate more about the choice of his that had a negative impact on his daily functioning. He wasn't even bothered by the earlier behavior of his former assistant anymore. Even though he still couldn't fully accept what she truly meant back then, he understood her perspective on an intellectual level. During that mission, he was caught off guard by Kusanali and he just did what was necessary to succeed. However, he could have done it all more skillfully to minimize the unpleasant side effects of the special operation. However, he did not take this into account at the time, so he was delaying an adequate response to Marie's complaints. No honest apology passed his lips in ages and he wasn't very likely to utter that magical word anytime soon.

“Follow me. It will be much more beneficial,” he gestured and clasped his hands behind his back again. Then, he started moving further into the southern nave of the mansion. He walked leisurely, visibly waiting for Marie to go after him. True to his expectations, she caught up with him very quickly. When Marie glanced at his face from closer distance, she spotted his poor state immediately. He looked extremely tired and couldn't hide it even under the mask. His skin was paler than usual and it had a sickly greenish undertone. Exhaustion would explain his growing isolation in a convincing way. His own pride was his downfall. As they walked through the corridors in silence, listening to the wind blowing outside, Marie noticed that they were approaching the sector of private chambers. His intentions could be... everything and anything.

Dottore's supposed intentions caused Marie's consternation, but in order to avoid hasty guesses, she decided to keep all comments to herself. The time on his side teached her that the worst things were usually caused by the incorrect assumptions about his agenda. Yet, when Zandik started unlocking the door to his dorm, the woman cleared her throat quietly and took a step back.

“I'll wait outside.”  

Slightly awkward smile appeared on her face. She received a reply in the form of a nod. It seemed that he didn't care about the goal that could stereotypically motivate any man to take a woman to his apartment. Overally, Zandik loved privacy, so Marie was going to respect that as well, leaving aside the obvious moral issues. The Doctor disappeared inside his apartment for around five minutes. When he came back, he handed her a small box wrapped in a papyrus. He had a gentle yet wry smile on his lips that only fools could trust. He warned the woman before she started asking him any questions.

“In Sumeru I managed to obtain some new chemical samples which I expect you to analyze, describe, and maybe even extract something completely new from them. I just require you to be extremely careful when handling them. I didn’t choose any intermediary, considering the high value of those resources… I'm strongly against unpacking them outside of the laboratory environment.”

“I see. I will do my best to keep them safe,” Marie took over the package with extreme caution. She seemed to turn pale when she heard a silent clink of glass under the packaging. She looked fearfully at the Harbringer, who rubbed the tip of his nose with his knuckles, covering the lower part of his face at the same time. It took a lot of effort for him not to burst into manic laughter. Fortunately, Dottore was an excellent actor.

“This is another urgent project that has been delayed unexpectedly, so get on with it immediately… If you can make it this evening, I might even consider promoting you again.”

The man sounded as categorical as promising. Yes, exactly, it was a great idea for Marie to return to her previous position. Of course, if only that's what she wanted. Zandik just intended to convince her to do so, being fully determined to achieve the desired effect. Among all of his employees, he memorized cooperation with Marie as the most pleasant. Moreover, he could keep an eye on her constantly to avoid particularly embarrassing accidents involving her... This woman's reliability required appropriate supervision to shine fully.

“Promoting me, you say… For how long?” Although the woman turned it into a joke, she slowly moved towards the opposite side of the corridor, remaining very careful around the package received from her boss. Since Marie was cut from the same cloth as Zandik, she also didn't want to admit that she simply missed the infamous heretic's company. “Apart from formalities, I just wonder what it is. Naturally, I will prepare the report as soon as possible!”

The Harbinger watched as the woman took up her task. It was amusing to witness her curiosity and willingness to gain knowledge. In this particular case, he had a feeling that it would herald a real breakthrough in their united research.

“I'm counting on your expertise, Professor,” he added in Fontanian as she left, before the storm of woman's black curls disappeared from his sight. He expected very quick results from this long-awaited experiment.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

When Marie entered her study room in the lab, she put the package on the table and rubbed her hands together with excitement. Sumeru was the region with the best samples of poisons. What could be inside the parcel? Small colorful frogs for the production of poison darts, medicines and antidotes, rhizomes, roots, leaves, mushrooms, insects… The tropical jungle hid countless treasures and the fact that Il Dottore himself managed the trouble of obtaining raw materials was exceptionally valuable. Marie didn't know anyone who was more familiar with the local flora and fauna. She herself might not have even paid attention to some things during her on field delegations, but now she had the opportunity to learn something new directly from the mastermind himself. On top of that, he offered her another promotion. Wonderful. Low importance tasks weren't as fulfilling as experiencing the true science. After conversation with Zandik she felt extraordinary happiness that she had not expected to return these days. The way he referred to her as Professor scratched the right part of her brain a bit too pleasantly. She was more willing to try to forgive him for scaring her to death when he destroyed his segments out of nowhere. At the same time, was this really necessary to wait so long before handing her the new project?

The woman tied her hair back and put on protective clothing, quietly humming the first random melody that popped into her head. Then, she walked over the table and began unrolling the package. As soon as she saw its contents, she felt the wave of heat on her cheeks. This wasn't what she expected… She slipped the protective mask off her face in bewilderment, and then, with wide eyes, she began to look at the containers. The bottles indeed contained chemicals, but at first glance none of the substances had something to do with the poisonous flora of Sumeru. Those weren't even standard vials from Zandik's laboratory, but some colorful glass flasks decorated according to the Sumerian manner of design and sealed with appropriate labels. Marie sank heavily onto her stool and began carefully turning the bottles over in her fingers. Maybe… Dottore made a mistake or someone miraculously robbed him, replaced the original cargo and even managed to escape with his life? Sounds a bit too silly, but it was all just women's cosmetics. Nothing really valuable to the scientist.

Rose water, kohl, aker fassi and several niche perfume oils. What's more, at the bottom of the package there was an original Sumerian halva decorated with dried fruits.

Marie tried to maintain her denial, but instead of relief, she felt a pang in her heart. At this point her face felt as if she was on fire. If Zandik planned to give it to her right after he returned and her sulks prevented him from doing so… She felt so bad about herself. Willingly or not, she blinked her eyes a few times, as for a moment her vision became blurry. He had no reason to be so generous. Maybe it was a suggestion that he noticed her getting old slowly, or maybe she should just look for some specific, new purposes for simple household chemicals? Maybe the halva was poisoned or packed with elixirs he hadn't tested before? After all, Dottore always devoured it himself and he was reluctant to share it with anyone. Or maybe Marie was just overthinking at the moment and what Dottore really expected from her was terrifyingly simple. Was it that he wanted her to try those substances on herself, like she always used to do in her job? Zandik wished to see the effects of her work in the evening, which meant there was no time for typical scientific inspection… Marie had just enough time to do her makeup. It was exciting, moving and scary in its own way. It wasn't usual to get any prosaic, non-scientific gift from Zandik.

However, if this was the only requirement to restore the old order in the laboratory, Marie was willing to do it for both of them and touch the precious part of Sumeru that he brought to Snezhnaya for her. Soon the woman's green eyes got embraced by a beautiful dark frame. Her cheeks and lips got touched with the color of a pomegranate with a golden glow. She placed the sweet scent of honey, sandalwood and rose behind her ear. She cut the halva into pieces. For now she was almost ready to face him again. It was one of those white nights, when endless days asserted their domination over the lenghty times of darkness again.

[shelby-love]

KELLY SEVERIDE

Skeletons and Whatnot.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author’s note: I feel like this is rubbish, but I also feel like it’s not. 50/50 (1.6K words - might come back to edit it tomorrow)

Also you can see how tired I am (it's 4:30AM) I mean what is this title??? GOOD NIGHT.

~

"That's not possible. Check again."

"But I already did! Like a million times!"

"Adam, I swear to God-"

"Alright, alright…" Your colleague mumbled, turning on his chair to run the data yet again.

While he sat on the chair, looking through files he didn't have a clue about, you were leaning against the wall and shaking in your boots. Your heart hammered and your palms felt clammy.

Not possible. I killed him.

"No look it says right there," Adam declared; proud of himself for being able to gather information like this on his own. "Some girl named Lucy Riggs pawned a gun she got off some guy named Jon Prescott.

You squinted your eyes at the information that made no sense. "Get to the point."

Adam visibly swallowed, "Turns out the guy's name isn't Jon. Shocker. It's actually Parker Torres."

Your blood ran cold at his words. A million thoughts raced through your head. You wondered where he was, what he was doing… The questions that evaded your mind are usually normal, but here, when you thought about the dark man of your past, the questions seemed to be anything but normal.

"What about the gun?"

Adam clicked away until a picture of a metallic gun popped out. "Smith & Wesson Model 64 revolver."

Next thing you knew, a chain of vulgar profanities escaped your mouth, and you couldn't stop them. Ruzek's eyes widened ever so slightly at your lack of composure. "Mind telling me what this all about?"

You took a deep breath. "My skeleton escaped the closet."

***

The lack of information you found within the last couple of days was mind blowing. The only lead you had was the gun that wasn't even in your possession, having gotten lost in a misfit of undocumented sales.

Lucy wasn't of help either. The poor girl just wanted to get rid of her husband's gun, saying everything but useful information along the way. "If he wants a gun, then he better get a good one… A new one too! I don't want that piece of garbage in my house. God only knows who used that gun!" Lucy told you, just 48 hours ago. Those exact same words.

She was right about one thing.

That dammed gun went through so many hands and took double more lives.

And you didn't even have a lead.

"You look like crap," Kevin Atwater teased, handing you a steaming cup of coffee.

You didn't even manage to smile, looking at him through your shades that were, so far, doing a great job at concealing the bags under your eyes from the world.

"Rough night?"

"Mhmm."

Kevin didn't know that you no longer lived with Kelly. The temporary solution to your problems turned out to be moving back to your own place. Putting Kelly in harm's way, no matter how much he thought otherwise, was something you didn't want to do. The comfort of his bed and body were replaced by a thin blanked and an uncomfortable dining chair.

Dozens of glass decorations were laid out all over your apartment. On every window still, next to every door… On every surface, really. You slept on the dining chair 5 yards from your front door with a pistol strapped to your back, a shotgun under the chair and a rifle wrapped around your two arms, acting as a teddy bear for every time you dozed off.

Friends from Interpol would call here and there, with nothing more than sad news.

Hank Voight was pulling out every contact from his little notebook, but not even they could solve your years long case.

You wanted to throw up.

"Hey Kev."

"What's up?"

"You still friends with that FBI agent?"

***

"Second floor clear," The grip on your radio loosened after the second you needed to inform your team about your situation had passed and you moved on upstairs. You could hear them respond in the same matter as you held your gun with both hands and carefully climbed up the stairs.

You didn't let a sound slip your lips as you trekked the stairs up to the very last floor, save for the attic. For a drug house, everything was eerily quiet. It didn't feel like someone left in a hasty hurry.

It felt like as though there was no one there in the first place.

Your need to report that to your Sergeant faded away quickly once you saw smoke. It seized your full attention within a few seconds.

Smoke grenade was your first guess. Nasty things but nothing new.

That was, until you took several steps closer and the smell of the source journeyed through your nostrils. It clicked in your head immediately. Three years of being a squad lieutenant's girlfriend can do that to you. The scent of fire is nauseating and sweet, putrid and steaky, or something like leather being tanned over a flame. The smell  of it can be so thick and rich that it's almost a taste. Kelly's words rung in your head, and  you pulled your radio to your mouth.

"Call CFD! There's a fire on the third floor!" You informed, shielding your eyes. "Stand down! I repeat –"

Things went black after those words.

***

"We have a detective trapped on the third floor," Voight informed the first responders. "That's where the fire started."

Wallace nodded, "Squad 3, take the third floor."

Unlike Wallace, who had found his source of information in Voight, Kelly Severide had found it in Jay, who stood on the street visibly stressed. "Jay where's Y/N?"

Jay frowned, "She went to scope ahead. She was on the third floor when the whole place just blew up…"

"She could be unconscious right now," Kelly muttered. "Squad 3 let's go!"

Kelly Severide was already in the burning building when Chief Boden found out just who was trapped upstairs. "Dammit."

***

"Y/N?!"

Kelly's patience was thinning by the second. Knowing that his time is limited and that the place could blow in a stronger matter at any moment, he paced toward your unconscious body expeditiously.

Noticing the angry streak of blood that came from your nose had his heart in his throat. You were twisted in a way not normal for a human body to be in, catching him off guard the moment he laid his eyes on you.

Despite all that, Kelly still swooped in to grasp your limp body in his arms.

The stress of the last few days he went through didn't come close to a match with this very moment. "I'm coming down chief!"

For a moment Wallace wanted to bark back, but he bit his tongue. Love makes people do crazy things.

He knew that better than anyone.

"Get the hoses ready!" Boden announced and turned to the Intelligence.

"She'll be okay."

***

You were okay.

Maybe even better than you thought possible.

"Kelly wake up."

You smiled cheekily at doctor Mannig, who stood by your hospital bed, waiting for Kelly to wake up with the same thin line of patience as you.

You woke him up with a slap to his shoulder.

Natalie was beaming, her eyes sparkled despite the fact that she was the doctor to the most heavily guarded patient in the whole city of Chicago. "I think congratulations are in order."

"What do you mean?"

She winked before handing you the tablet, "You're 11 weeks along Y/N. Congratulations you two."

You shook your head wildly and pressed a palm to your mouth, acting out what your defense mechanism wanted you to do. "Oh God…"

"Really?" Kelly asked next to you. He had already grabbed your hand and gripped it tightly, holding you to the ground of your new reality. "Are you for real?"

She nodded, "The tests don't lie. I'm so happy for you two."

Natalie hugged you both closely before disappearing back into the crowded ER.

"Hey," Kelly murmured, grasping your chin with his index finger and thumb. "What's wrong? You're not happy? I thought…"

You shook your head immediately, stopping him from saying something that was untrue. "No, Kelly… I'm really happy."

Two heartbeats within one body. Your body.

A child that was going to take after you and the man you loved most in this world…

You felt so incredibly lucky at that moment.

Yet so guilty.

"Our baby could've died today…"

Fresh onset of tears attacked your eyes, pushing through until the moisture was dripping down your face, and you tried to muffle the hiccups with your hands. Everything started to make sense.

"Baby you didn't know…" He tried to calm you.

You shook your head violently, dropping his attempts into the water. "I should've known better. We didn't use protection... Then I felt so sick last week."

"Y/N-"

"But I was so obsessed with Parker Torres that-" You couldn't even finish the sentence because the guilt turned into anger. "God I'm so stupid!"

"Babe, look at me," Kelly's voice hardened yet the hands with which he cupped your face were gentle and comforting. "You didn't know, so none of this is your fault. If you knowingly went in there that's when it would have been your fault."

He kissed your tears away and gave you the softest smile ever. "Do you want to have this baby with me? Because if you don't, we can…"

You stopped him with a kiss.

You were venerable in the moment of the kiss, yet you never felt more at home. In this kiss is the promise of years of love and the sweetness of life. No one mattered at that moment. Not Parker… Not anyone. Only you two and the vow you just shared.

The next few weeks will be hard, that much you knew. You were introduced to a new reality and priorities shifted. The hunt for your skeleton will continue in the hands of the people you trust most and as months go by the light will greet the darkness of your tunnel.

But the next few years, you see nothing but light and happiness.

No skeletons to torture your life, but a baby and a soulmate to make it better.

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MASTERLIST

[dhwty-writes]

Toss a Coin to your Lover

I finally cracked. After months of reading (who are we kidding, inhaling) Geraskier fanfic, I finally wrote an one-shot. What inspired me to do it was this extremely heartwrenching post by @clown-of-rivia, who kindly gave me permission to write this. And write I did! I typed half of this at 2 AM on my phone because I couldn’t sleep until the words were own and the other half in the last 3 hours. It was a lot of fun, honestly!

Best you read the post mentioned above first to know the context but basically what happened is that Geralt and Jaskier slept together and Geralt (like the absolute idiot he is) put some money on the nightstand the next morning and left (because he couldn’t imagine himself worthy of love that is not bought). Here’s what happens after. It’s angst but with a happy ending, don’t worry. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Jaskier stared at the coins on the nightstand for a very long, probably an embarrassing long time. Alright, definitely an embarrassing long time. But in his defence, the sun had barely risen and he'd frankly had the best sex of his life - and that ought to say something - so he thought he ought to be forgiven.

He'd be very glad to say that, when reality had finally caught up to him, the first thing he'd felt was rage. Alas, that was not the case. Because despite what other people thought, despite his infamous reputation as an exceptional (and intermittent) lover, despite everything, he actually cared about sex. His flings were seldom only a fancy to sate his needs; he was genuinely, truly, deeply in love with his usual bedfellows.

And Geralt? Geralt wasn't his usual bedfellow. He wasn't anything like his usual bedfellows. Jaskier fell for people easily and had been even more prone to do so in his youth. He had been in love with Geralt from the first moment he saw him. And over the years the feelings hadn't subsided in the slightest.

He was not ashamed to say that at this point he loved Geralt with all his being. Melitele's tits, he'd spent the last two decades traipsing after the damned witcher, composing ballad after ballad to his glory and beauty and virtue and finally - finally! - he'd thought Geralt had understood.

And then-

This.

Disbelievingly he stared at the money on the bedside table.

So, naturally, Jaskier felt hurt. He wanted to curl up and cry for days as he'd done after his first heartbreak, a lovely stable hand his father had sent away after catching them in the hay.

But then- resignation. Because he'd always known. 'Death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak.' In some way he'd even been prepared for it, as much as one can prepare for such an eventuality. But not like this. This wasn't fair, this wasn't how it had been supposed to go, his heart not only broken but shattered into a million pieces, like the beautiful painted glass vase he had broken all those years ago in the Countess de Stael's manse. Beautiful even in shambles, yet dangerous to everyone who dared touch the shards.

He exhaled forcefully, clinging to the feeling of glass cuts on his hands, clinging to the pain, the sting, the bite. Finally, the rage kicked in. That was better than heartbreak, that was something he could use as a weapon, wielding words as lethal as any sword, as sweet as honey and as beautiful as a field of poisonous buttercups.

He stuffed the coins into his purse and got up to get dressed, seething and too furious to even attempt buttoning up his doublet. It wasn't as if Geralt hadn't seen that before. He had and he had loved it and then he had thrown coins onto Jaskier's nightstand and left. The audacity!

And the audacity to just leave! Jaskier was of half a mind to not go after Geralt after all because wasn't that a pitiful sight? The great poet Jaskier in the role of the scorned lover, running after his witcher with desperate need? But then again, he was just too angry and he needed to have words with Geralt. Oh, and what words they were about to have!

'Errands to run,’ Geralt had said and Jaskier scoffed in disbelief. Because now, apparently, the witcher had gone craven, Roach and her master long gone when he peered into the stable. 'Good,' he thought, 'so he's afraid.' And he ought to be, really. Jaskier wasn't about to just stand idly by and let the love of his life leave - he had been much too persistent over the last two and a half decades for that.

So, he tightened the straps of his lute case and his bag and set out to do what he did best: Not composing or singing or giving exceptional blowjobs (although he certainly excelled at all of those tasks), no, no, no; what Jaskier did best was tracking a certain whitehaired witcher of his, no matter how little he wanted to be found.

A few pointed questions and sweet words later, he was on his way, huffing and puffing while running to match the speed of a horse and trying to compensate the head start Geralt and Roach had gotten – and praying, Melitele, please, that they hadn't galloped away because then would take days to catch up to them – yes, he spoke from experience, one of his not so fond memories from the beginning of their friendship when Geralt had still thought he could shake the bard. He had learned better quickly, though now it seemed he had forgotten the lessons learned half a lifetime ago.

Luckily, though, he hadn’t galloped away, as Jaskier caught up to him half a day's march later while he was watering Roach by a creek. Good. That was good. That meant that his white wolf wasn't completely averse to being found. Still, the sight of the peaceful tranquillity - as if nothing had happened - only fuelled his rage.

'How dare he?', he thought. 'How dare he be calm when I am furious, how dare he find peace while I am aching, how dare he hurt me and not hurt in turn?'

Oh, but that wouldn't last for long. No, Jaskier would see to that.

"Geralt!" he called even though he knew that the witcher had to be long aware of his presence. Still, he hadn't deemed it necessary to acknowledge him, not turning, not even raising his head. The nerve of this! "What errands lead you to the middle of nowhere?"

The witcher flinched and looked up, his brows furrowed. It was a look Jaskier had long learnt to identify with pain. 'Good,' he thought, although he felt a little guilty, 'he shall hurt, too. Just like I do.'

"No answer?" he asked flippantly. "Fine. Then I'll do the talking. As always. You better sit down, witcher, because we will be here for a while. And you will listen." Geralt didn't move. Fine for him.

"What the actual fuck," he began his tirade, "we're you thinking, you cursed witcher?" He flinched but Jaskier didn't care. He was bitter and battered and broken-hearted and it was Geralt’s fault!

"What do you take me for?" He shouted and dug for the coins in his purse. "Some common whore? Some- some common travelling bard who will just as easily fall into bed for some coin as fall into song?" He probably shouldn't care that much but even if he was now famous enough to normally elude such propositions- as well as the need to accept them - it still rubbed him the wrong way decades later.   

"For years I've kept you company, for years I've sung your praises. 'Toss a coin to your witcher', indeed. Here!" One by one he hurled them in Geralt's general direction. "Have some coins! Have plenty of them because trust me, I’m not wanting for money! I’m not wanting for anything, to be precise! I could easily retire to Oxenfurt to teach or to basically any court on the Continent to make a home. Easily, do you hear me? I do not need your pity! I do not need you to pay me!"  

He had run out of Geralt's coins to throw and while he could certainly bombard him with his own money, he was actually quite protective of his earnings. So, he reverted back to verbal assault: "Is that what that was to you last night? Another night of paid company you like to indulge that you could just leave behind come morning? What were you even thinking? That you could finally shake me of after years of travelling with you?"

He gasped as a terrible thought came to his mind. "Is that what it is? You try to insult me so that I finally stop following you? Because then you have succeeded, Geralt. This insult is-"

"Jaskier," Geralt said, the first time he spoke since his arrival. It sounded weak. Broken. Pleading.

"No!" he answered. "No, I'm not finished with you, yet! You humiliate me, Geralt. For years I've endorsed your terrible bedside manner but this is a step too far. Really, I'm at a loss for words! I woke up with a wonderful afterglow to see you leaving and was worried for you. Turns out I shouldn't have been because apparently this night has no impact whatsoever on you. You're as calm as- as- I don't even know! See what you do to me? I'm a poet! A minstrel! A pretty little wordsmith, yet you make my words fail me. My weapons, my craft, my only asset, my-"

"Jaskier, please," Geralt interrupted him and to his shame tears rose to Jaskier’s eyes, "I didn't want to hurt you!"

"Then why did you do it?" he yelled, choking on the tears. "Because guess what, Geralt, I'm hurt! I'm really fucking hurt!"

"I'm sorry. Last night was a mistake."

"Oh, great," he scoffed. "First you add injury to insult. But sure, why not add insult again?"

"I shouldn't have made you do this."

"Made me?" he howled. "You didn't make me do anything! Fuck, I kissed you because Melitele's tits, I've been in love with you for so long and I just couldn't take it anymore!" His voice broke on the last syllables and he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to quell the tears. "Shit-!" he croaked weakly. He hadn't meant for it to go this way, he was angry and he wanted him to feel the fury, not to crack down before him, show him his weakness, show him just how helpless he made him feel and-

He gulped down air, in a hope to stifle the violent sobs that shook his body. Oh, how he ached to curl up in a lover's embrace, to be held and comforted and yet Geralt was the one to reduce him to the blubbering mess. It was fucked up. It was so fucked up. Fucked up to run after him, fucked up to yell at him, all so very fucked up.

Still, he calmed down. Slowly. But still, he did.

When he was only sniffling a bit, he lowered his hands and found Geralt staring at him, unmoving, unblinking. Then he said: "No you're not."

"What do you mean, I'm not?"

"You're not in love with me. You can't be."

He scoffed. "Do you now claim to know my heart better than I do? Do you think I cannot judge whom I love? Do you think me an imbecile, Geralt? Incapable? Weak? Whatever it is, tell me! Better tell me now!"

"I think you are insane," he growled and Jaskier gasped, "to think yourself in love with a witcher."

"What, you absolute idiot, do you think have I been doing the last twenty-odd years? It hasn't been a deterrent all that time, so why should it be now?"

"Because you can't love me, Jaskier," he roared, the first time he had actually raised his voice at him since the djinn. "Because I am a witcher and can't love you back and demanding your affection would not be fair!"

"Denying it is equally unfair!"

Geralt growled and turned away, obviously displeased by something though Jaskier couldn't tell what it was.

He was still angry and he wanted to continue yelling, yell how Geralt paying him wasn't fair, how Geralt leaving him wasn't fair, how- But somewhere in his rage-clouded mind a voice of reason spoke up, granting surprising clarity for just a moment.

He clung to that clear thought as if for dear life, letting the fury dissipate until he was thinking again, and not just feeling and hurting. "Geralt," he said cautiously now, "why did you pay me?"

The witcher scoffed and ducked his head. "I had to pay you something, didn't I?" he mumbled almost too quietly for Jaskier to hear. "I mean, you were expecting something. No-one would bed a witcher without- without recompensation."

Jaskier stared at him abhorred. "Why on earth would you think that?" he asked with disgust dripping into his voice.

"Because it's always been like this!" he answered exasperated. "Women love me only for the money and even then, they cannot look at me while taking me to bed. Yen could, but-" He winced. "The djinn- And you, Jaskier. You don't have anything like that. But I had to give you something. I could never ask a sacrifice like that of something without-" Jaskier watched with astonishment as the witcher's voice broke. "What else do I have to offer you?"

"What- what else would do you have to offer me?" Jaskier gasped and spluttered trying - and failing - to find any words.

He just grunted and took Roach by the reins as if he was about to walk away - again.

"No!" He stepped in and ripped the reins out of his hands. "No, you do not get to flee! You stay and listen to what I have to say." He just stared, watching the bard as he started pacing. "What do you have to offer me, Geralt?" He asked bristled. "Why, what indeed? It isn't as if you have made me famous, ensuring my wealth and livelihood. It isn't as if you've saved my life countless of times, putting yourself in harm’s way right from the very beginning when you didn't even know - or like - me. It isn't as if you listen to my endless ramblings, as if you replace my lute strings when I need to, as if you lend me your coat when I'm freezing or carry my bag when I'm tired. It isn't as if you've nursed me back to health after illness and injury alike. It isn't as if you've rendered me completely speechless last night. No, none of that has ever happened."

He ducked his head. "That's nothing."

"That's everything."

His head snapped up. "Well, I'm still a witcher!" he shouted but Jaskier didn't flinch nor waver.

"And when have I ever cared about that?" he shouted back. "My love for your mind and soul and heart has been free for as long as I know you. Why would you think that my love for your body wouldn't be?"

"You mean it," Geralt said his voice full of surprise.

"Of course, I do, you big dumb oaf! That's what I've been trying to tell you for the past half hour. What else am I supposed to do to convince you that you are worthy of love and softness and care? What else am I supposed to do to show you that I've been giving you all of this for half of my life without asking anything in return? I never needed to ask! I've been paid in turn thousandfold. Not in money, Geralt, in actions big and small. I thought-" He choked on his tears, "I thought I've been paid in love, too."

"Witchers can't love. Witchers can't feel at all."

"Stop telling yourself that lie. I've known you for twenty years, Geralt. When you're happy you smile, when you think I'm funny you huff a laugh, when you're angry you shout, when you're sad you shut me out and when you're hurt you lick your wounds. You hide it, of course, but you haven't been able to hide it from me for a long time. And I know you love people. You love your brothers and Vesemir and you love Yennefer in some way and Ciri, too. And I think you love me, too. Don't hide your love, witcher. Not from me. Never from me. You're just scared. A coward. Scared to get hurt and scared to hurt me."

"I'm not craven," he growled.

"No?" Jaskier crossed his arms. "Prove it."

Geralt looked at him quizzically. Jaskier raised an eyebrow. A challenge. An invitation. A plea. And just like that, Jaskier could see the witcher break. It was plain as day, the little crack in the facade, the little gleam in the eyes and then, suddenly, he was being kissed.

There was a desperate sob caught in Geralt's throat when they kissed, the anguish and agony overwhelming Jaskier and making him stumble a few paces back. Geralt kissed as if he'd never kissed before, frantic and fierce and forlorn, as if he feared that Jaskier would pull away, as if he waited for eventual rejection, revulsion, rebuke.

And that broke Jaskier's heart again, maybe even more so than the coin. No, Geralt could have paid him all the coin in the world and it wouldn't have hurt half as much as the onslaught of- of- decades of loneliness and loathing and longing that choked him.

He was still angry - he was sure that he would continue being angry and hurt for quite some time - but that didn't matter right now. Right now, all that mattered what that he loved Geralt. And his beloved witcher, his dear white wolf, his revered companion, friend, lover was hurting, too. Because he hadn't been able to even imagine being worthy of the affection Jaskier gave him so readily, so freely, so effortlessly. Oh, and how much affection he had to give!

He raised his hands gently to cup his cheeks, wiping the tears away with both his thumbs and leaned into the kiss. The desperation faded away, as did the agony, to be replaced with tenderness and love. He reached for Geralt's hands to place them on his hips, whispering quietly between kisses: "It's okay, it's alright. Hold me, embrace me, I've got you." He placed a tender hand on Geralt's chest, manoeuvring them until they reached some rocks beside the creek to sit down on. He cradled his witcher into his lap, carding his fingers through his hair and kissed him, wishing that he never had to stop, hoping to pour all the unsaid words, all the undelivered confessions, all the unsung ballads (that he definitely did not have ready, no) into the slow movements of their lips.

When Geralt pulled away and leaned their foreheads against each other he was almost disappointed. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry, Jaskier, I'm so sorry, I never meant- I never meant for any of this, I never meant to hurt you, to insult you, to- I just don't- I don't know how to- I want to make this good, make this good for you, and-"

"Shhhh," he made soothingly. "I know. I know, my love, my witcher, my dear heart. And I forgive you. You know I always do."

"I don't deserve-"

He pressed a finger to his lips. "No," he declared. "None of this nonsense anymore. I've yelled my throat sore trying to convince you otherwise. What else am I supposed to do to prove it?"

"Kiss me again," he begged, "A thousand times. Maybe I'll start to believe it then."

To his own surprise, Jaskier laughed. "That, my dear, I can do." He pecked him on the lips. "One," he said. "Nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine to go."

To his even bigger astonishment Geralt of Rivia, the witcher, the white wolf, smiled. Widely. "Hmm," he made. "I think I like that. Do it again?"

He did. "Two."

That earned him a quiet chuckle and a quivering sigh. "I love you," Geralt whispered. "I really do."

Jaskier smiled, too. "I know. I love you, too."

He buried his face in the crook of his neck and Jaskier's breath hitched. "I'm not good at showing it yet," Geralt said and Jaskier had to keep himself from squirming at the tickling sensation. "I'm shit at showing it. I can't promise you that I won't hurt you again. I've never done something like this before. But I will try. For you. Anything for you."

"Oh, my love," he sighed, his heart beating quicker. "And what a wonderful adventure that will be. A tale of love and woe, of-"

"-death and destiny?" Geralt interrupted him and looked at him, a sly smile on his lips. "Heroics and heartbreak?"

Jaskier gasped. "You remember!"

"Of course, I do. I never forget anything important." He opened his mouth to protest and Geralt quickly spoke: "Do you think it is a story worthy of a ballad?"

His expression went soft and his heart warmed. "No, Geralt," he said and kissed him again. "This is the stuff of an epos. In a thousand years they will still tell legends of our love. There will be novels and plays and songs, and- oh Geralt, I love you, so much it hurts."

The witcher pulled him close. “I love you, too. I love you even if I don’t show it. I love your singing, your dramatics, your fancies. I love that your hair is soft and that your body is unscarred and that your hands are always gentle. I love that you never smell of fear. And I still can’t believe any of this.”

Jaskier smiled and kissed him again. “Three,” he announced.

“Do it again?”

He laughed. “Always.” And so, he did. A thousand kisses and a thousand more. To make his witcher believe. To make his witcher stay. To love his witcher.

Because he always had. Jaskier, Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove, strolling minstrel, master poet, bard loved Geralt of Rivia, the Witcher, the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken since the moment he had first laid eyes on him. And now he got to show it to. Now he received love in turn. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

[local80smotel]

All knowing love

pairing; V x Trans Man! Reader

summary; being under V's loving and watchful eye.

requested; Anonymous

rating; T

warnings; transphobia, parental abuse (physical), hints of suicide (but never outright said)

word count; 2185

A/N; this isn't wasn't the fluffiest thing I could write but once talking to my trans boyfriend I couldn't help but feel having a bit of angst was acceptable.

When Y/N was still just a child, he knew something was off about him. Not something "bad" or "wrong" that people would call this feeling when he'd tell them. "It's just a phase" was a comment that was thrown at them mostly by their parents when they were still in their teens, just before high Chancellor Sutler was ever in the eye of politics. Oh, how those days would seem like a humid southern summer walk compared to when Sutler came into the picture. The transphobia he had experienced grew like how weeds grow in futile soil.

The comments like "You're confused" slowly started to warp into something more demeaning to the boy as the Chancellor candidate's toxic grip on the people of England started to squeeze any "unwanted" life out of it. "Undesirable" life as he would call it. When hair was cut after Sutler was elected, there weren't small arguments anymore that would be fixed when he'd be asked if he were hungry and wanted to eat supper with them. It became violent and unlike the people who had raised him for the last 15 years. Having handfuls of freshly cut hair be ripped out because his mother was holding him by his scalp just to yell in his face how much of a monster he was broke his heart.

Was it fear that caused this? Were they scared of losing their only child as many other families had? Was their bundle of joy in their life really an undesirable and the cause of this virus outbreak? Just why? He'd ask himself that as he was packing his bags in preparation to leave the family home for good.

Three long years had passed and at the ripe age of 18, he moved out into the busy streets of London. A small pit in his stomach began to form as the sickening feeling came back. The cause of it was from one simple but yet complex question; could he survive in this fascist regime? Sadness also fueled this emotional fire, sadness from knowing he'd have to use so many things he knew was wrong and didn't describe him truthfully just so he could get a place to come to when curfew hit; The name that was long dead to him the second it was given to him and female pronouns. He'd be signing his own death certificate if he put Y/N instead of his deadname on his application to rent.

They'd look it up and find no Y/N L/N in England and call the police on him in a split second. Shivers ran down his spine as he imagined what would happen to him if that became a reality. No one knew what happened when you were deemed "undesired" but everyone after having Sulter for three years knew that they would go missing and would be never seen of or heard from again. You were just wiped off the face of the Earth.

Y/N lucky had enough money saved from working in retail for the past 2 years to get a small apartment. When he was finally given the keys to the place he couldn't help but sigh in relief. At least in this tiny space, he could be his true self without shaking in fear as he had in his past while being stuck in his parents' home. The next three years were some of the worse when it came to dysphoria. Being forced to go to work almost every day and be called ma'am or miss and be deadnamed constantly damaged his mental health to the point it felt easier just to be open with his identity.

Anything would be better than being forced to hide in this shell of terror. Nights of panic attacks and sobbing that sounded like a wounded animal as he laid on the rotten wooden floor became a routine. On the morning of his 21st birthday, he woke up in the late afternoon. There was no panic in him when he realized he was late for work, how could someone care when this would be their last day on Earth?

With scissors in his hand, he grabbed his hair and began to chop it off sloppily but that didn't matter to him as long as it was finally short like it was when he was a child, and that was enough for him. The thought that when the police would see him, that'd see a man instead of what society had deemed him brought a smile to the young adult. The feeling of freedom pumped through his veins as he went on with his day. It felt odd but refreshing to feel the cold air from his AC on his neck as he fixed himself some bacon and eggs. It wasn't the fanciest thing someone could eat on this day, but it was enough for him.

Around ten AM he left his flat, walking with newfound confidence due to his hair and now his wrapped chest. He had heard from the grapevine that wrapping one's chest in medical bandages could cause serious damage like nerve loss but one this final day he decided to risk it so he could pass in normal daily life. Being called sir by ticket seller at the movies brought him so much joy as he grabbed his "Count of Monte Cristo" tickets and wished them a good day as he went deeper into the movie theater to find theater four to watch the movie. Y/N was somewhat surprised to see only one other person in the audience. Sure, he was 10 minutes late but this was a classic film that was finally being let out of the vault to be watched again! Nevertheless, the man sat down a few rows in front of the figure, settling down into the uncomfortable chair.

“I didn't expect you to come.”

He could tell from how the figure's words were muffled that they were wearing a mask. Y/N turned to them with a confused look on their face.

“Excused me?” Y/N asked but their confusion just deepened as he saw that the figure was wearing.

A Guy Fawkes mask with a matching hat while wearing pitch-black clothing. The man under the mask chuckled as they stood up, Y/N couldn't help but be slightly intimidated by the height of this masked figure.

“I should have done this first so you wouldn't be so perplexed, ” he cleared his throat as began monologing, using many words that start with the letter V in his speech which in turn slightly impressed the 21-year-old.

“But you can simply call me V.”

"V" said while taking a bow

Y/N couldn't help but snicker at this display of some kind of knightship which in turn had V cocked his head in slight confusion on what could be so funny

“Well, Mr. V, might I ask why you're here alone?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but as I am apparently on a tight schedule I won't elaborate”

“Tight sch-” the man interrupted them by placing his leather glove covered finger on top of their lips

“Yes, very much tight schedule as I only have 2 hours till your self made demise am I correct?”

He was blown away at the fact this random stranger knew of his most shameful plan, but the feeling of shock was soon replaced with anger. This creep was stalking me! He thought as he slapped away the masked man, getting up from his chair as he did so.

“You have some right talking to me like that!” he yelled as he started to march away from them.

V reached out and grabbed their hair in a somewhat gentle way

“Y/N wait please, ” he sighed as Y/N stopped who's face was twisted in bitterness “I understand how you feel Y/N, I truly do. I was labeled an undesirable so please don't think that I've been keeping an eye on you in for any other reason than just to keep you safe.”

When he said this Y/N rage seemed to melt away slowly. How was he able to survive being an undesirable? So many questions filled the male's head but the only word he could speak was

“How?”

V let go of his hair as he straightened his posture “If you come with me I'll tell you.”

The more sensible side of the man told him to run away from this masked freak and enjoy what little time you had left in peace but something stopped him. After a moment of silence, he nodded to V's pleasure. He took the 21-year old by the hand and lead them to the back exit. The two walked down the alley and what drew Y/N's eye other than the 6'3 black mass was the posters. Every single one they pasted seemed to have a V cut into them.

He broke the long silence with another question “Did you mark those posters?”

“Does a raven speak?”

“But why?”

V didn't stop walking but he could feel his eyes on him. For being an undesirable he sure seems fine being out after curfew Y/N thought as they waited for the answer.

“The people deserve a symbol. Something to get them through this.”

He opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that but quickly shut it once the meanings of the words came to mind. Maybe he wasn't this creep, more like this country's guardian angel that would save them all from high Chancellor Sutler. It didn't take long for him to reach what Y/N guessed as V's home which turned out to be an abandoned Victoria station. Y/N looked over at him with an eyebrow raised as V opened the hatch that kept the station locked to the public who had originally thought it was abandoned. V turned back to the man and gave him his hand simply saying "follow me, sir Y/N".

Once V was given the curious man's hand he rubbed his thumb over their knuckles before tenderly pulling them inside. He held the hand as they walked in the pitch black, guiding them until they found a giant door which to Y/N's touch felt like it had complex carvings in them. When the masked man opened the door Y/N couldn't help but wince as golden light hit his E/C eyes that had just gotten used to the dark. He had expected V to let go of his hand once they reached his "lair" but he didn't. Oh, what a perplexing and mysterious man he was.

Y/N would be lying if he said his face wasn't blushing at this moment in time. V led them deeper into his beautiful home until both of them to were behind his couch which was black leather. In front of the said couch was a glass coffee table with a box on it. Y/N's hand was finally let go of as V sat on the couch.

“Come sit, I have something to give you.”

“But you said-”

“Please?”

He sighed as he complied, arms folded as he sat next to him. V opened the box and to Y/N's surprise, there was a biner in it. Once again, all he could ask was "How?" as all production and selling of items that could help trans folk was banned just as the Koran was. The masked man took the folded bundle into his giant hands and gave it to them once again shocked male.

“Life has been tough enough on you even if we don't add our government into it. Thank you for holding on. For surviving this long and not letting them take away your love for life and your fighting spirit.”

Without any hesitation, Y/N pulled V into a tight embrace with tears threatening to fall. No one had ever put their life in danger to give them this piece of happiness like this stranger had. All he could do was whimper out a "thank you" as a sob shook his chest deeply.

“Since I showed you my lair, you're going to have to stay till the next November the fifth, is that okay?”

Y/N couldn't help but nod immediately. He could finally be somewhere he was truly accepted for who he really was; a man who was just simply given the wrong body at birth.

V placed his hands on top of the weeping H/C man, stroking the uneven hair and placed his head onto the others.

“I'm cooking ham, is that okay?”

“mmhmm..”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

[babieyangyang10]

violent ends (chapter 8)

(chapter 8)

series masterlist

genre: hunger games!au

pairings: huang renjun x oc, na jaemin x oc

warnings: language, mentions of blood, fighting, deaths, mentions of sex

A/N: I’m curious, tell me if you’re team Renjun or team Jaemin!

previous | next

Athena's POV

Sixty.

That's how many seconds I have before I have to step off this metal circle. It's all the time they give us to survey our surroundings. I look around to see the other tributes scattered randomly, all facing towards the cornucopia. Heart thumping, I spot Jaemin on the complete opposite end.

There are supplies almost an arm-length away from me, however everyone knows that the most useful supplies is placed in the mouth of the Cornucopia. Almost beckoning for me to take one, knifes are displayed on the walls.

Thirty Seconds.

I'm counting down in my head. Should I grab the book bag in front of me in case there's a weapon in it? But then, by the time I get to the Cornucopia, others will already be waiting for me with their fresh pick. However, if I'm quick enough I could get them while their backs are turned.

Twenty seconds.

Breathe. I look around to see no other than Haechan placed exactly to my right. That's a huge problem. No matter what I choose, he's going to be right on my trail. But the bag is so close!

Bag or Cornucopia?

Fifteen seconds.

My eyes dart, back and forth trying to come up with a decision. Then, suddenly I question how I will even be able to find Jaemin during the chaos, if he decides to ditch me and run away to the lake. He wouldn't, right?

I look him in the eyes and discreetly nod towards the Cornucopia, praying he gets the message. Or that he even saw it, considering he's about 20 tributes away from me.

Now back to the bag situation.

10 seconds. Big, yellow letters appear on a screen in the Cornucopia, counting down. 

Back and forth, I struggle to come up with a quick decision on which I should do first. However, when I look over to my left, over two tributes away is Renjun. Noticing my visible distress, he shakes his head at me.

"Don't." He mouths.

I get into running position and keep my eyes on the knifes. Guess I'll give up on the backpack. Although, since Renjun is officially my competition now, should I trust his input?

Is this a secret plan between the three of them to collectively slash me to bits?

5 seconds.

Fine, I've made up my mind. Okay, Huang Renjun, I'll forget the dumb fucking bag.

3 seconds.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Breathe you fucking moron, before you pass out.

2 seconds.

Then, I hear it, the gong. My body takes over and I'm sprinting as fast as I can. I'm so close now, I can practically already feel the blades in my hands. My lungs are burning, but I don't care.

I reach out and grab several, random knifes from the wall. However, once I turn around, my whole body collides with the sharp wall behind me. A boy from District 5 has his bare hands around my throat, making me drop the knifes.

Pivoting my body to the right, I strike his arm with my left palm. Once he falls forward, I use the same arm to lock around his neck. Squeezing as hard as I can, I grab whatever I can from the wall with my free hand and thrust it into the side of his neck.

Blood violently seeps in squirts from the wound onto me, as I release him from my hold. I grab my dropped weapons and a backpack by my ankle. When I look up, I am greeted by absolute madness.

Lee Jeno is standing over a young girl from District 3 with an axe stuck in the middle of her head. Meanwhile,  Renjun has just slashed open the District 8 boy's neck. Too occupied, they don't even notice me running past them. However, I feel someone leap on my back, causing me to crash face-first into the ground. I use all my strength to roll the large boy off of me, before stunning him with a sharp and painful punch to the nose. Wasting no time, I jab a knife into his throat, before pulling it out to keep.

Jaemin.

I desperately try to look for the blond boy, but he's nowhere to be found. There's beginning to be less people, meaning the Careers will spot me if I stick around much longer. While they're occupied with hacking away at the poor tributes, I decided to immediately follow Taeyong's advice of collecting water. It's important that I get there before Renjun does the same. I sprint through trees, trying to achieve a safe distance.

Once I've gotten away far enough to no longer hear the deafening screams of the dying children, I could softly hear the sound of moving water masked under the chirping birds.  At this moment, I can't help but feel jealous of them. They have no idea what's truly happening beneath them.  Stuck in their own little world, safe from harm's way in the trees. Even if something where to happen to them, they have wings to fly away with. I guess, they remind me of the people from the Capitol.

As the sound of water gets louder, I make sure to tread quietly. The Careers can't be far, and right now I'm alone and vulnerable. God, I wish Jaemin was here right now.

Noticing the dirt become muddier as I walk near the sound, I know I should be extremely close by now.

Snap.

Alerted, I quietly crouch behind a tree. Knife ready, I wait until the crunching of leaves get close enough, before I jump out and tackle the noisy perpetrator to the floor.

They put up a good fight too, attempting to push me off their back. During our wrestling, I notice them looking around frantically, probably looking for their weapon since they dropped it during the tackle.

Suddenly, the head becomes locked in one direction. Following his gaze, I see a trident laying on the forest floor.

A trident?

They notice me pause, throwing me backwards into the ground. My head smacks backwards against it, my eyes shutting in pain.

Once they open, I am face-to-face with the sharp prongs of the trident.

Cowering backwards, I frantically say, "Jaemin! It's me."

Once he realizes, the alerted look on his face fades away into one of concern, "Athena, are you okay?"

Jaemin chucks his weapon to the side and thoroughly looks over my face and body for injuries.

"It's not my blood," I assure him, "Ran into some people at the Cornucopia." 

"It's literally everywhere. Here, follow me to the lake, so you can wash it off." He gently pulled me up off the ground.

Grabbing his trident in one hand and my own hand in his other, he leads me to the lake. We crouch down by the waterside. My hands scooping up some water to cure the dryness in my throat. Then, I began scrubbing off the blood from my face and body.

"What happened out there? I couldn't find you at the Cornucopia." He asked, curious.

I watch the blood fading away into nothing in the river, as I speak, "I made it to the center. The guy from District 5 tried to choke me out right away. Then, after I started looking for you, I got tackled by a guy I couldn't see."

Frowning at the now clear water, "Honestly, for a second, I thought you left without me, when I couldn't find you there."

"I wouldn't leave you. We're in this till the end, okay?" Jaemin promises.

"Til the end, then," I agree, "What happened to you?"

"I only got to this," He held up his trident, "before Haechan is launching at me with bow and arrows. He kept chasing me, and before I know it I ended up far behind the back of the Cornucopia.That's where I spotted this lake from. He kept calling out for me, but eventually I guess he just gave up. That's when I decided to leave and set out to find you."

Taking in his words, I point out, "It sounds a lot like they were trying to purposely separate us, so they could kill us easier. Don't you think?"

"It makes sense, " He suddenly laughed, "it's funny though, we almost killed each other for them."

"I'm sorry for tackling you like that." I apologized.

"It's fine. Is your head okay?" Jaemin softly patted the back off my head.

"It is now." I bat my eyelashes, playing it up for the cameras. Looking around, I notice some  flowers sticking up through the water, surrounded by Lilly pads.

"What are these?" He curiously picked one from the water.

"They're pond lilies. They're good for infections and burns. Plus anti-inflammatory too." I remember what Taeyong taught me.

"Hm, so smart," He smiles down at me, before tucking the flower behind my ear, "and pretty too."

I don't hide the way my cheeks flush. Just like they did last night, when I was with Renjun.

Distracting myself from the thought, I decide to look throw the bright orange back pack I picked up after killing the District 5 guy. While rummaging through it, I found a pack of crackers, a pack of dried beef strips, a bottle of iodine, a box of wooden matches, a bit of coiled wire, glasses, and an empty black water bottle.

Grabbing the bottle, I began to fill it up with water for later. Then, I place it back in the backpack along with some of the knifes I've been holding onto. While doing so, Jaemin proceeds to try on the glasses.

"Wow, these really do suck. I can still see the sun." He murmurs, looking around.

"Then, they're probably supposed to be used during night. That'll be useful for hunting. Speaking of hunting, you hungry?" I ask, feeling my stomach rumble at the first mention of food.

"Yeah, let's go."

Renjun's POV

Jeno, Haechan, and I had decided to turn the Cornucopia into our own little camp. We had  all the supplies we could ever need. I mean, sure, there's about ten bodies just laying around, but home sweet home, right?

However, right now it wasn't feeling too sweet.

"What the fuck happened out there, Haechan? The plan was whoever was closest to her would kill her as soon as she stepped off the platform. You were the closest." complained an irritated Jeno.

I don't feel guilty that Haechan is unknowingly taking the hit for me. In fact, I was the one who stopped her from getting that bag and immediately dying by the bare hands of Haechan. I'm not sure what made me do it. I keep telling myself that maybe I was thinking about her being defenseless and unable to put up a fair fight would be unfair.

Or maybe I'm just pussy-whipped after last night, I don't know. My hand subconsciously goes to the hidden mark she left near my collarbone. Although I can't see it, I can feel the slight pain as my fingers pass over it. A reminder of last night.

Ripping my hand away, I try to tune back into the argument to avoid popping up a boner, while on live national-fucking-television.

"She was just too fast. I was sure that huge dude from District 5 was going to finish her off for me," Haechan suddenly remembered something, "Besides I was the one who made sure they were separated like our Plan B said to do."

I guess he's right. If we were able to kill them, we were going to do our best to separate them. Without Athena, Jaemin probably couldn’t survive, since District 4 is entirely a beach district. That fish boy probably has no idea how to survive for a week in the woods.

On the other hand, Athena, for some reason, needs him just as much. The three of us had debated on the reason why. Maybe she’s using him for his fame and sponsors? Although, she had received a lot of positive attention based on her own charms. She didn’t need him for that.

That’s what led us to the conclusion that she had a little girl crush on him. The thought makes me sick. I thought the Lee Athena I grew up with, would never waste her time on a guy like him.

As the sky becomes dark, I wondering what they’re doing now. Are they dead? Or still all alone? I can imagine Athena, hiding in a tree all by herself, frightened and scared. A little part of me wonders what would happened if she joined the Careers. Would she be here right now sitting next to me? Listening to these annoying boys bicker with each other.

Where are you, Lee Athena?

Maybe they found each-other. Maybe they’re looking up at the same sky right now.

I can see it. Them huddling close together, blaming it on their need to keep warm for the night. His arms wrapped around her, tightly. Her head resting against his check, watching the stars.

God, it makes me sick.

[shall-we-imagine]

A dare is a dare! (Yukiya ReizenxReader AU)

Requested: 33. "I'm not weird. I am limited edition." + 34. "I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned." From this prompt list.

I'm so so sorry I know you've requested this ages ago and I took forever to write it so thank you for waiting. ❤ I've been in a horrible slump lately too :/ so consider this like a warm up and hopefully I'll write something cooler soon!

Genre: Fluff + humor

(Second person point of view)

"Your turn, Scarlett! Truth or Dare?" Amelia giggles.

"Dare!" Scarlett beams proudly.

"I dare you to order us some pizza; I am honestly very hungry." Amelia, the host of the sleepover, complains.

"That's your fault." You state, Scarlett nodding in agreement.

"A dare is a dare!" Amelia shoves her phone in Scarlett's face.

The blond shakes her head, but starts dialling the number anyway. "Shouldn't we order some for Yukiya too?" She wonders. Yukiya is Amelia's twin brother, and he's the only family member of Amelia's that's currently present at home; her parents are on an overnight trip of some sorts: you didn't ask for the details.

"Yeah, shouldn't we?" You turn to Amelia. Yukiya, in spite of being awfully attractive, is very shy and quiet, so you barely ever got the chance to utter more than a few words to him, if you even got to see him that is. Whenever you visited your bestfriend's house, he seemed to always keep himself locked up in that room of his. You sort of wished he didn't though, perhaps because of your undeniable crush on the blue-haired boy, just a guess though.

"Nah, he can eat leftovers if there's any." Indifferent, Amelia shrugs.

"You're so mean! I'll order one for him." Scarlett states. "Wait, what should I order for him?"

"Oh, good question!" Amelia perks up. Uh oh, that's never a good sign. "I wonder what Yukiya's favourite pizza is...(Y/N), you go ask him!" She smirks. You'd never really confessed to either of your bestfriends about the little thing you have for Yukiya, but you've always suspected they'd caught on, probably from the 'subtle' glances you'd give him whenever you get a chance to see him.

"Why me?!" Your cheeks heat up.

"It's your penalty for not doing the last dare you got." The two idiots nod eagerly, as if Scarlett's reason was very plausible.

"But this isn't fair! You turned my dare into a truth! Daring me to answer truthfully to your question isn't-"

"A dare is a dare!" Amelia shouts, cutting my complaints off.

"What are you scared of?" Scarlett inches closer to me smugly.

"Nothing!" I lie. "I'm gonna go ask him; I don't have a problem with that!" I lie again. Oh god, he's gonna see straight through me with those beautiful hazel eyes of his and just know I like him.

"Do I hear wedding bells?" Amelia sighs dreamily, as I was about to exit the room.

"Stop being weird! I'm only trying to get this over with; you're not the only hungry one here, you know!"

She scrambles off the fluffy, pink rug and rushes to her dresser, quickly and sloppily putting on her sunglasses. She crosses her arms, striking a 'cool" pose, "I'm not weird. I am limited edition."

After a few seconds of Scarlett and I staring in bewilderment, the former finally nods, "Yeah, that's definitely weird."

"You're both mean!" Amelia tears off her sunglasses and places them back on the dresser before taking her place back on the rug.

You shake your head in disbelief but do not say anything, leaving Scarlett to deal with that dork. Serves her right for selling you out anyway; you chuckle to yourself.

You tentatively walk to the end of the dimly lit hallway, purposely stretching out the time it takes to reach there by slowing down your steps.

Unfortunately but inevitably, you reach your destination. Heart pounding violently in your chest, you lift your fist up to knock on his door, but retract it to rehearse your lines a few more times.

After gaining the slightest bit of confidence you won't stutter the second he opens that door, you raise your fist again, but before your knuckles could collide with the wooden door, it flings open, revealing Yukiya in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

"(Y/N)?" His eyes widen. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I-uhm, you know.." What are words? Cuz 'damn, you look good!' surely wasn't the correct thing I needed to say. "I- what pizza do you like?!" You blurt out, making it sound almost like a threat- like you were mugging him of his pizza preference.

Confusion spreads across his features, "Um, I like margherita? Why?"

"We're ordering pizza for you- I mean for us- I mean for all of us...including you." Yeah, go ahead, make a fool out of yourself; that's exactly what you planned to do!

He laughs. Oh god that beautiful laugh; you'd never seen him laugh before, but now he was laughing because of you. "Thanks." He smiles. Now, you might actually be hearing those wedding bells Amelia was talking about....

Speak of the devil. Amelia's door flings open, revealing the girls. "You're taking too lo- ooohhh, look at that!" The smug expressions they both wore were enough to drown you in humiliation and embarrassment.

"We already ordered the pizzas!" Scarlett exclaims and shuts the door, leaving you and Yukiya alone in the quiet hallway.

"What?! Hey! Wait, then why did you make me-" You shout but give up halfway through, knowing you'll recieve no answer anyway.

"Amelia already knows I only eat margheritas." Yukiya says quietly, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I figured as much." You sigh, accepting defeat.

After a few moments of awkward silence, neither of you knowing what to say, Yukiya breaks the silence with a gentle tone, "Well, do you wanna get a drink as we wait for the pizza?"

"Of course." You smile, and then smile even more upon viewing the way his face lit up at your agreement. Maybe you do have a chance.

You head to the kitchen, Yukiya leading the way even though you know this house about as much as he does, considering it's practically your second home. Amelia always invites you over, especially because her parents are barely ever home.

You take a seat at the dining table in their kitchen and watch as Yukiya rummages through their fridge. "Is chocolate milk okay?" He innocently holds up two small cartons of chocolate milk- the type kindergarteners would fall head over heels for.

You giggle, "Yeah, chocolate milk is perfect."

"Why are you laughing?" He sits opposite to you and hands you your carton.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just- it's cute; you're cute." The words come out before you get the chance to think them through. God, can the ground just swallow you whole right now?

A slight blush takes over Yukiya's normally pale skin, "Thanks. You're cute too." He mumbles.

Your heart did literal backflips. Well, maybe not literal, but it felt quite literal. "Thanks." You breathe out, fumbling with the chocolate milk carton in your hand before finally sticking the straw in and taking a sip of your drink.

For a while that's what both of you did, just quietly sip your chocolate milk, no words spoken. You wanted to say something; you needed to say something. It felt like a chance you had to take; you could finally catch the attention of your crush, but you're quietly drinking chocolate milk!

You open your mouth to speak, but the doorbell interrupts you.

"That must be the pizza." Yukiya gets up, dumping his empty carton in the trashcan before rushing to the front door. Dammit. Your time with him is over; did you really need to waste your time being so uncomfortable and awkward? Jeez.

Scolding yourself all the way towards the door, you almost lose hope of ever getting such a good chance to talk to him like that. But you see Yukiya holding up about seven boxes of pizza, looking like a frightened, confused puppy.

"Oh! (Y/N)! Could you help me? Just pull out the hundred in my pocket, please." He pleads.

"Sure." You rush towards him, quickly sticking your hand in his sweat pants' pocket, eager to release him of the struggle he's in. However, your rashness results in your hand brushing against something you didn't quite need to touch. Not at this stage of your relationship at least.

Your eyes meet his equally panicked ones. "I- um..I meant my jacket's pocket.." His cheeks turn bright pink to match yours.

You turn your head to look behind you- a coat rack with a single jacket hung on it. Yukiya's.

You could feel embarrassment radiating from both of you; you quickly pull your hand out of his empty pocket and clear your throat. "Sorry."

"Can y'all get it over with? I still have work to do." The delivery boy huffs, following it up with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." You quickly pull the money out of Yukiya's pocket and make the payment while Yukiya waits with his tower of pizza boxes.

After you shut the door, the awkwardness seemed to suffocate you both. God, it was going so well; why did that need to happen?!

"I didn't mean to touch your-"

"I know. It's okay; I should've made myself clear." He gives you a reassuring smile, but you could still see how red his face is. Maybe it was just him getting tired of the pizza boxes though, you tried to lie to yourself.

"Uh, here, let me help you." You grab some of the boxes. "They're such pigs; I don't know how they eat all that." You joke.

"And Amelia was supposed to be on a diet too." He adds, laughing.

You join him, "So was Scarlett!"

After that, the incident was completely forgotten and you were able to actually enjoy your time with Yukiya and the girls without thinking of how you touched your crush's penis minutes ago.

"Yukiya, truth or dare?" Scarlett asks before taking a huge bite of her slice.

"Truth."

"Booorriiinng!" Amelia boos.

"Shut up; I have a juicy one!" Scarlett shoves her palm in Amelia's face.

For some reason, that made you nervous.

And judging by the way Yukiya glanced at you for reassurance, it made him nervous too.

"Okay, Yukiya, do you like anyone?" She smirks and looks at me.

"Why are you looking at me?" I raise an eyebrow.

"I'm not." She shrugs. "So? Yukiya?"

He stays silent for a few seconds but replies in a calm tone, "Yes."

The two girls squeal, scream, and jump around, but you could only sit there, your heart rate faster than the speed of sound. Your eyes meet his; now, if you were reading his invisible signals correctly, he was telling you it's you, but you could be imagining that, so no need to do anything stupid. Not again.

"Who is it?!" Scarlett practically jumpscares the poor guy.

"You already asked your one question. These are the rules, aren't they?" He smiles.

"Ugh, Yukiya, come on, don't ruin it!" Amelia groans.

"Cut it out! You can't force him to do whatever you want." You defend, earning a thankful smile from him.

"Yeah." He nods, to which the two girls slump down in annoyance. "(Y/N), your turn. Truth or dare?" Were your eyes playing tricks on you or did he just smirk at you? Oh god, he's too hot for existence.

"Dare." You gulp, hoping he's as nice as he seems.

He frowns.

"What's wrong?" Your eyebrows furrow in concern.

He chuckles sheepishly, "I didn't think of a dare."

"I did!" Scarlett volunteers. "Can I pick her dare?"

Before you could say No, absolutely not! Definitely not in a hundred years!, Yukiya had already agreed. Well, shit. Nothing good was about to come out of that little devil's lips.

"(Y/N), 7 minutes in heaven with Yukiya, that's your dare." She grins like she just won some sort of battle.

"That's a different game! Stop twisting the rules as you please!" I complain.

"A dare is a-"

"Oh my god, Amelia, if you say that one more time, I might punch you."

"Someone needs a hug." Amelia pouts sarcastically.

You sigh. If this was a cartoon, steam would be rushing out your ears by now.

"It's okay; we just need to stay in a closet for seven minutes, right?" Yukiya's hazel eyes bore into yours, delaying your response for a few seconds.

"Um, uh, yeah."

"No problem then." He grabs you by your wrist gently and leads you to Amelia's closet, both of you choosing to ignore the wolf whistles coming from the two girls on the floor.

"Okay, this is too cramped." You breathe out after the closet door was shut.

"Tell me about it." Yukiya lets out a light laugh.

"On the bright side, we get to escape their teasing for seven whole minutes." I propose.

"True." He agrees.

Silence consumes the small space after that.

It was fairly hot outside the closet, so inside it was just hell, basically. Plus, you weren't a fan of not being able to see anything. You were also scared of moving at all because you really didn't need any more accidents.

"Yukiya?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you actually like someone?"

He remains silent for longer than you would've liked but eventually gave a response.

"Yes."

"Do I know her?"

"Yes."

Curiosity was getting the best of you. "Can I get a hint?"

"Technically speaking, you can, but that doesn't mean you will."

It was extremely unusual for Yukiya to tease someone, from what you knew at least, so that made you feel special in some way.

"Pretty please?"

"I don't know. What would I get in return?"

You paused for a few seconds. Then did something extremely brave. A side effect of the darkness, or maybe the heat had melted your brain to a puddle.

You blindly reach out for him and work your way up to his neck. You stand on the tip of your toes and pull him closer to you, praying your lips collide with his and not have some awkward interaction where you kiss his chin or something. Then, you'd have to move to Ireland and hide your real identity for the rest of your life.

By some miracle, it happened. Your lips and his moved against each other with ease. His lips were slightly swollen due to his habit of biting on his lip when nervous, but they were soft nevertheless. Easily, what you'd planned to be a quick peck had turned into a passionate kiss.

You pull away, slightly panting. "Does that work?" You tease.

"Better than anything I'd dreamed of." He rests his forehead on yours. "I guess I turned out liking you a lot more than I'd originally planned."

The door to the closet flings open, leaving you feeling vulnerable and humiliated for some reason.

"Are we interrupting something?" Scarlett wiggles her eyebrows at the two of you.

"Ewww, I can't believe you just kissed my brother." Amelia whines, earning a smack from Scarlett.

"We planned that, you scatterbrain."

"I know, but still."

"I hate you both." You step out of the closet.

"Why? We got you a boyfriend." Amelia stares.

Your cheeks heat up. "Just shut up, will you?"

"Honestly, if anything, we should hate you; where are our boyfriends, (Y/N)?" Scarlett complains.

"That's not my fault!"

"You're saying there's something wrong with us?!" Amelia fake gasps.

You face palm and turn to Yukiya, who just gave you a sympathetic smile. "Yukiya, you have more of that chocolate milk?"

"Lots and lots of it." He laughs.

"Off we go then." You link your arm with his, turning him towards the door.

"You traitor!" Your bestfriends call out after you.

Well, it's their fault for 'getting you a boyfriend' after all.