ough i love reading your blorbo posts <33 still chewing on your last scalia report about coming back wrong from your bestie's resurrection

legit it's so nice to know that you enjoy them because they are truly the most out of context ramblings because i simply can't keep my thoughts to myself

and yes Scalia is so messy; does it help to know that she accidentally killed her bestie in the first place? that is what necessitated the resurrection.

Masterlist of My Stories

My Writing

Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, I post a snippet of what I'm currently working on.

On Mondays, I post the last lines of the stories I'm finishing up, as well as lessons learned from the previous week. I post this under the tag #last line monday and #lessons from the week.

On Wednesdays, I throw up a snippet of fanfiction. I post this under the tag #wip wednesday.

On Fridays, I write at least seven lines of my own stories, either poetry, essays, or fiction. I post this under the tag #seven line friday.

On Sundays, I post at least six lines of fanfic. I post this under the tag #six sentence sunday.

For more information about me, check out my About Me page. I don't answer personal questions unless I share an asklist, I don't take prompts unless I share a promptlist, and I don't keep anonymous asks on. I've also made two promptlists--one a writing challenge, the other a list of poetry prompts! Find my work archived and updated under hes5thlazarus on Archive of Our Own.

Below is a catalogue of my stories, broken down by fandom (Dragon Age, Harry Potter, Star Trek):

My Dragon Age Stories

There Is No Ithaca Three moments where Solas loses his home: Solas wrecks his revolution on the altar of Mythal. Solas returns from war to find Ghilan’nain incubating the Blight within their own home. Fen'Harel negotiates the end of the world with the Thaig of the Bastion of the Pure. Answers to various asks from brightoncemore's wonderful promptlist.

Ultramarine Sylaise attempts to trademark the color blue, initiating a civil war. Fen'Harel disapproves. Felassan, at this point, is just along for the ride. Highlights include: Andruil attempts to create biological weapons out of the conquered children of the stone and sell them to absolutely everyone, Mythal may or may not involve, Solas greatly disapproves, and everyone wants to kill Fen'Harel for disapproving. Also an explanation as to why Solas has to think before answering Sera on whether he has ever pissed magic by accident. Sorta a love story, sorta a comedy, sorta a story about political intrigue--but hey, Solas said Arlathan was even worse than Orlais! A big thank you to potatowitch and isomede for talking me through this and getting me to finish it--and for giving me the best ideas for it.

Overheard at the Hanged Man Thirty-one stories written in Nightmare-mode for Beyond the Veil's 2020 Artober Challenge, ranging through the entire series, from Arlathan before the Blight to the Chargers in Serault.

Alistair the Accidental Heretic Alistair gets bored during morning prayer and starts changing the words of the Chant as he sings. Mother Prudence and Knight-Commander Greagoir are less than pleased, and soon he finds himself tripping up over accidental heresy even within the kitchens of Kinloch Hold. It's not easy, being a half-elf templar with a conscience, because even having a sense of humor is heresy.

The Starkhaven Crier A portrait of two future apostates at ten-year-olds: Jowan and Surana are bored, get dragged to the Chantry for the good of their souls, and accidentally make the new girl from Starkhaven cry. Featuring Surana determined to be the one Dalish against letting the Maker come back, the self-hating mage in the Surana/Amell origin as the Starkhaven Crier, and the same Mother Prudence who sent Alistair to bed without supper. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Morrigan at the Crossroads Morrigan reaches her breaking point, confronted with the one person she cannot flee: her six-week-old son, who cannot be soothed back to sleep, struggling in the Crossroads. From a prompt musettta3 sent me.

Shartan's Riddle Surana talks Mahariel through writing Leliana, after Leliana leaves to work for the Divine. Shartan promised them a home, and Mahariel worries Leliana, devout as she is, cannot give it to her. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Winter in Amaranthine The Wardens' companions decide to leave, and Warden-Commander Arana Mahariel cannot find a reason good enough to tell them no. Meanwhile, letters between the Warden and Leliana get lost in translation, and Arana makes it worse. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Palimpsest Velanna and Sigrun fight some darkspawn, talk around the past, and write some letters. Written as a gift for hellbell, for the Sapphic Solstice 2021 Gift Exchange.

Phosphorescence A Despair demon in the Foundry district is clogging up the whole city with a miasma of misery. Justice runs into an old friend of his, during Anders' first few weeks in Kirkwall, and the three set to work. Heavy-handed allegory abounds, but, Justine opines, that’s the Dreamers’ fault. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Labyrinth "Anders made no attempt at escape during the years they were together." This story is meant to explore everything absolutely horrible about that statement. If the core part of Anders' identity is his refusal to submit to imprisonment, then perhaps listening to Karl was a violation of his sense of self. Things get better, and then things get worse.

Kirkwall Thunderstorm Family squabbling as the storm sets in, Hawke flees to face the thunderstorm head on, and laughs, because what's more to life than this, chasing a storm all the way down to the harbor? From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Debutante Leandra manages Hawke's debut ball, and surprises herself by having a lot of fun. From an OC ask I decided to turn into a prompt.

Dregs Anders baits Varric, or Varric baits Anders, both drunk at the Hanged Man. There's no resolution to an argument when they're both just angry, thinking about dead mages. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

The Scent of Pomegranates Merrill brings a pomegranate to the Hanged Man, to try and capture some of the way her clan celebrated the new year. Fenris is oddly moved. Written for the DA Den's 2020 Holiday Gift Exchange.

Anders in Autumn Anders and Fenris, over the course of one gorgeous autumn in Kirkwall, find common ground, a common goal, and even tenderness, as the city grows cool and vibrant in the changing of the year. Justice returns to the streets of Kirkwall, one way or another, and it is as transformative and loving as justice truly is. An answer to an Artober challenge from cozy-autumn-prompts

Warp & Weft Anders wakes Fenris up in the middle of the night talking, and then not wanting to talk, about weaving. What they remember and what they have forgot climb into the bed with them. A gift for potatowitch.

Landlocked Merrill goes looking for Isabela after a night of drinking at the Hanged Man, and finds her considering the sun rising over the horizon at the docks. They're landlocked and the salt's drained them both dry, but maybe it's not all been a waste. They're shipless, not shipwrecked. Part of a personal challenge to write more femslash, after realizing how little there is in Dragon Age fandom.

Love and Red Ink Varric tries his hand at a more literary Bildungsroman about his youth as a Kirkwall bohemian. Bianca tears it apart, editing for his own good. Sometimes love is in the margins, your almost ex-girlfriend telling you--I wasn't that pretty, when I was that young.

The Most Boring Sex Party in All Orlais Josephine and Leliana both admit the night they met ended with someone's smallclothes pinned to the Chanter's Board--but what happened right before? Josephine says, “I have played the Game before, and understand its cutthroat stakes. But I must admit, I never thought I would witness the opening salvo of a coup at the most boring sex party of all Orlais.”

Catabasis Kirkwall's in ashes and Hawke and their friends are on the run. Varric might have ended the story at the docks, but the conflict continues. The question persists: should they separate? And what brought them together in the first place? From a series of prompts ellie-effie and musetta3 sent me.

The Domestics Alistair runs into an older elven woman on the battlements, watching the children play in the Skyhold courtyard below. They get to talking: isn't it nice that the mages get to keep their children now? Then, in the course of the conversation, Alistair figures it out. Alistair says, “I always wondered. What my life would’ve been like, if she could’ve kept me. I always kinda knew she didn’t have a choice. King’s bastards are the king’s, not whoever carried them. If she were a servant and if I’d end up in the kitchens or, better yet, the dairy. I really like cheese. But if she were a mage, I guess we never had any of that. Unless she ran away.”

The Bane of Red Crossing In the astrarium cave in the Storm Coast with Inquisitor Lavellan, Cole, and Solas, Sera opens a chest and finds a beautiful bow, named the Bane of Red Crossing. But what is the Bane of Red Crossing? According to the codex: "Ser Yves de Chevac used this bow in the Exalted March against the Dales – specifically, in the liberation of Val Royeaux, where the chevalier famously struck down the elven forces' commander with a shot to the throat at two hundred feet." Lavellan is not pleased, but does not know how to communicate effectively with Sera. Cole and Solas make it worse. Sometimes there is no adequate resolution, when you are faced with the instrument of your great-grandparents' destruction. Sometimes there is nothing that disinterested compassion can say.

To the Victor the Spoils In the Skyhold gardens, in Adamant's wake, Solas meets Loghain. A character study of two trickster-kings, speaking a little too honestly. As Loghain himself says, "The past is always with us. It’s in our bones and our blood and we wear it on our skin. You can think otherwise, but you’ll never get far without it."

Dead Man Hiking Solas broods over what has been lost. Dorian interrupts, and Solas dangles hidden knowledge in front of him like a carrot. They both take the bait, because, as irritable and sad Solas can get, "he wants to give wisdom, not orders," and Dorian loves to learn. Written for Beyond the Veil's 2020 Satinalia Gift Exchange.

So Much Lore! So Much Information! Dorian has a wonderful conversation with the Skyhold Librarian about improvements to the library's filing system and the innovations coming out of Minrathous when Vivienne comes by and points out he's just talking to himself. He's been waxing rhapsodic about the Tevinter equivalent of the Dewey decimal system to a spirit--or maybe a demon. So clearly they must investigate.

Dirthara Ma! May You Learn After the Exalted Council, Solas stops for a drink and a sulk in a quiet tavern in Ostwick. He is convinced no one will ever recognize him with a full head of hair and a beard. Then the Inquisitor walks in. The first in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series.

White Nights A year after Trespasser, Lavellan takes a new lover to a quiet inn in Val Royeaux. She steps out to the balcony for a quick smoke under the stars, looks over to the balcony adjacent to hers--and who is there but the Dread Wolf himself, slightly disguised, with a glass of wine? Despite themselves they talk, and do not stop talking. “Entertain me,” Solas says. “What ending will Master Tethras write for us? Because I do not know how to leave this gracefully. Though I suppose any ending is better than the last one, when I left with your arm.” The second and most comprehensive in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Ligaments Briala has loaded her dice when playing the Game. Gaspard throws her in prison, but her message goes out to both the Dread Wolf, keen to better his reputation for catastrophe amongst the elves of Orlais, and the Dalish Inquisitor, who is still reeling from the loss of her arm. “We do not necessarily know he is the enemy,” Leliana says. “And it is exciting, no? To have that rush of danger and destruction between every kiss.” The third in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I've written in 2020.

Out From Under the Dread Wolf's Eye Briala and Merrill try and steal an eluvian out from under the Dread Wolf's eye. It doesn't quite work, but that doesn't mean the day's a failure, not when there's dinner to be had and a connection to explore. Written as a gift for hellbell, for a prompt they gave for the Sapphic Solstice 2021 Gift Exchange, but not submitted to the collection.

The Domesticities Solas adjust to a new, gentle love that has gripped his heart and will not let him go: a Lavellan who heralds a world he did dream of, and learns how to survive grief and his own betrayal, learns how to surrender the high moral ground and focus on the domesticities. A series of Solas-POV ficlets from my story, Fen'Harel's Teeth, where Lavellan is a mother and leader in her own right, and barely keeping her head above the water of her own deep grief. Not in chronological order!

He Who Hunts Alone Solas will restore the Elvhen People as he knew them, even if this world must die. It is his only purpose as he understands it. But a magical accident leaves him in another world, where a version of himself has made a very different choice. Solas is forced to reckon with a desire he has never let himself explore. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan, both his friend and adversary, is dragged with him, as they move from their world, to a world where Solas seems to have won it all, to another that seems both their worst nightmare. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan: the rebel apostate mage, romanced Josephine Inquisitor Imladris Lavellan: the Dalish First, romanced Solas, featured in Fen'Harel's Teeth Inquisitor Brigid Trevelyan: the faithful Andrastian prophet, rogue and noble, Tara's sister, romanced Blackwall and then Cullen Written in tandem with my partner, batsy22-me, and likewise abandoned when we got bored of it.

Fen'Harel's Teeth First Lavellan, Imladris Ashallin, thought that her audience with the Divine against templars' harassment of Dalish mages would be a token protest, and that her people would use it to draw the city elves closer to the Vir Tanadahl. She didn't think her Keeper's calculations would catapult her to the top of the Chantry's leadership, manipulating the powers of Thedas to leave her people be. Meanwhile, Briala foments revolution in Halamshiral, using the eluvian network to sabotage the armies of Orlais. A new movement erupts in the Dales, and elves across Thedas look at this so-called "Herald of Andraste" and see Mythal's vallaslin. Fiona breaks the chains of mages across Thedas, and Fenris starts whispers of a new age in Tevinter--one where the slaves throw down their masters. A new age is coming, and all of Thedas look to Lavellan to usher it in. My baby, my never-ending story, my current work-in-progress.

My Harry Potter Stories

Harry Potter Daydreams Archiving my old Harry Potter headcanons from Tumblr onto AO3. These are not necessarily nice to the characters from canon, and focus what I find interesting--their flaws, and how that could create conflict in their lives.

General Snape Headcanons Archiving my old Harry Potter headcanons from Tumblr onto AO3.

Augury Gang Eileen's mother curses her, and she dies not too long after giving birth to Severus. Tobias, a millworker and a proud union man, does his best.

Snape in the City Instead of dying, Snape moves to New York. A Severus Snape/Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape/Regulus Black story.

An Incident at the Mill the millrat AU A series of vignettes on what could’ve happened if Tobias Snape had been badly injured in an accident at the mill, forcing Severus to drop out of Hogwarts before the Prank. Predominantly Lilycentric. Snily shippers, rejoice: most of the vignettes are from Lily’s point of view, featuring her as flawed, passionate, bullheaded, comfortable in her sexuality, quick to curse and quicker to laugh at herself–and with a complicated relationship to alcohol and the Wizarding World. A big thank you to eleniaz and deathdaydungeon for sparking the initial headcanons that became this series.

Saplings 1980 Albus asks Minerva to tend to the "tender new sapling" of a Potions Master. Minerva looks at the manic-triggered recovered Death Eater and thinks they're doomed for failure. Snape thinks she's right. A couple of friendship & mentorship & not-quite hurt/comfort ficlets, where Severus oozes despair and McGonagall fails, completely, utterly, to be of service. There are two pieces of fanart floating around Snapedom, one of Snape oozing, the other a comic eleniaz did years ago. Unfortunately I've lost the links.

Harry Potter and the Summer of the Stepfather In an alternate world where Neville Longbottom is the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter's parents divorce relatively amicably. Eventually, Lily starts dating again, and Harry finds himself actually enjoying the summer Snape stays over.

Last Round at the Hog's Head Thirty-one ficlets written for the 2020 Snapetober challenge.

Your Body's a Revolution Eight stories written for the 2020 Trans Snape Week challenge.

July 1977 Snape stews in teenage melodrama, eating lunch at a cheap fish-and-chips shop in Upper Cokeworth, beset by memories of a wasted ex-girlfriend, who couldn't be Lily Evans--what Bertha Jorkins saw behind the greenhouses, and what came after. Revised from an earlier account, cross-posted from fanfiction.net.

Maleficari's Mutinous Munitions Sprout grew the wrong kind of mandrakes--mandragora, rather than English mandrakes, and no one knew that there actually was an infinitesimal difference--so Severus needs to save the day before Lockhart can. A little of Slytherin cunning, a willingness to embezzle, and a sense of spite wins the day. Prompted by masaotheheckindog.

Honeydukes Horror Remus Lupin genially humiliates Severus Snape as he attempts to order chocolates. Some schoolboy grudges never get better, and nothing Severus can say will let him seem the better man. Prompted by snapescapades.

Weavers Bored before the start of sixth year, Harry goes through Petunia's old family photo albums. He demands some answers, and Dumbledore sends Snape. "He finds a photo of her laughing with a boy who is not his father, who’s got his long black hair and a hand thrown up, too, covering his face. She’s about his age in this photo, or a bit older. Carefully he slides it out of the plastic. There’s writing on the back: 'Weavers, Sev & Lily, 1976. to Baba O’Riley and the rest of our lives!!' The writing is familiar, spidery, almost indecipherable, and he squints because it reminds him of someone, it’s strangely familiar, and then he drops the photo in shock. Because he knows: that’s Severus Snape."

They Call This Closure? Severus comes to consciousness into a dream of Potter reenacting his worst memory-and then Lily Evans comes tearing in at age sixteen, rather than as the more mature adult his subconscious normally designs her. They call this closure? Officially dead, officially incomplete: and I call this closure?

Harry Potter and the Cursed Mark Triple-cross! Mitarashi Anko of the Village Hidden in the Leaves joins Severus Snape as one of Dumbledore's agents, seeking to train the Boy-Who-Lived to understand his mental connection to Lord Voldemort. Snape thinks that they really didn't need to hire a goddamn technicolor ninja to fill the DADA position, but at least it's not one of Fudge's underlings taking charge--wait, he has to put up with her anyway? More seriously, Anko and Severus discover a connection between their cursed marks and the Potter boy's scar, Dumbledore expedites the plot, and Voldemort weaves an insidious plot, inspired by Lord Orochimaru, to take over the Resistance--from the inside. Incomplete and officially dead.

My Star Trek Stories

Raktajino Kira Nerys stews over the history of Terok Nor and the Occupation over a cup of raktajino, soon after she meets Marritza, and Garak just does not know when to leave a bleeding wound alone. Written as a gift for batsy22-me.

Open Mic at Quark's Thirty-one stories written for Trektober 2020, ranging from TOS, the movies, to Lower Decks and Discovery. Includes Keiko joining the Maquis, Spock introducing Amanda to Saavik, Mariner and crew getting lost on a road trip, and more!

Splash Quark takes a dip in a hot spring. Odo follows. It is not, Odo insists, sexy. Regardless, Quark is going to enjoy tormenting him with mutual nudity, since he was the one who interrupted his bath, after all. Prompted by saathiray.

Lore and the Prophets Lore thinks he can sneak off Deep Space Nine and get through the wormhole without anyone noticing. The Prophets have other ideas. Written for the Star Trek 2020 Gift Exchange, for electricsunrise.

Jambalaya Before Worf's wedding plans take over the station, Benjamin Sisko tries to find out what happened during the Founders' occupation of Deep Space Nine, and why Odo won't look him in the eye. Of course he investigates in the guise of inviting everyone to dinner.

Tear of the Prophets Was prompted by saathiray to write about Kira Nerys repatriating an artifact sacred to Bajor from Cardassia, and this is what we got! The Shakaar cell leads a procession after Cardassia returns the Orb of Contemplation to Bajor, to collective joy. Kai Opaka says, "So I say to you my people, the survivors of atrocity and keepers of the wormhole—the Prophets cried for you millennia before you were made. They sent their Tears from their temple as a safeguard as to what was to come. And now that it is safe, now that we have won—their Tears are for all." Featuring Latha having an Orb experience, explaining why he became a vedek.

Jane Austen Book Club Dukat reads Pride and Prejudice to help him understand human relations (and fuck the Sisko). He thinks he’s being Darcy but really, he’s just Mr. Collins…and evil. Garak lends him a copy of Jane Austen and a horrific cravat, and really, it's all downhill from there.

Miscellaneous Stories

Fireworks, a feminist deconstruction of Naruto Sarada takes one look at the Uchiha legacy and decides she wants no part of it. Sakura, who has built herself a life independent of the husband who abandoned them, tries to reckon with how her daughter cannot actually decide the path her life takes. And Hanabi is happy to offer advice and consolation, as Sakura tries to talk her best friends into letting Sarada be a civilian. A feminist deconstruction of Naruto, where everyone is taken seriously and treated with the same love Sakura offers to all her friends. No character-bashing, just contemplating what could have happened if, when Sasuke left Sakura and their baby the second time, Sakura decided to file for divorce rather than wait for him to come back. Of course they still love each other. Of course it's not simple.

Same Time Next Week?, a Babylon 5 fanfic Vir and Lennier meet for their usual drink. A pre-relationship, lightest of touches, beginning of it all story.

Sunrise, Parabellum, a Disco Elysium fanfic Early Wednesday morning, before Harry's woken up and before they've closed the water lock and headed to the fishing village, Kim Kitsuragi gets up and wants a cigarette. He has a cup of coffee instead and contemplates his partner's newfound sobriety. Sunrise, parabellum: he gets up and prepares for war.

Dragon Eyes, an Avatar: the Last Airbender fanfic On a diplomatic mission to the Fire Nation, Katara leaves the children with Aang to have tea with Zuko and Mai. But the two of them have something they want to talk about. They've lived enough of fathers neglecting one child for the other, and they have seen enough. Katara wishes they had propositioned her, rather than bring this up.

Cages, an Avatar: the Last Airbender fanfic Mai visits Azula. It is not easy.

Best Friends Headcannon - Geralt Of Rivia

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader (platonic)

Requested: By @by-the-primes​

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This is my first time ever writing a headcannon and it turned out more of a one-shot hahaha xD I went a bit overboard and I’m not used to this kind of post at all so sorry if it sucks. 

Wordcount: 3430

Summary: Headcannons of being best friends with Geralt. 

You had first met Geralt of Rivia when you were merely twenty-four years of age. 

Seeing as you were human and didn’t age the same way he did, you were quite a bit younger, even though he didn’t look to be a year older than thirty. 

You were of noble blood and with your parents’ consent, you had headed out into the world to “find yourself”, but in reality, you just didn’t want to be stuck at home in tight, frilly dresses listening to your mother go on about potential suitors all day, every day.

So with only a bag containing some clothes, gold and other things needed to survive, you headed out on your own. 

Having been locked up pretty much your entire life had made you quite the bratty smartass. You didn’t have a filter and rarely knew when to stop talking back to people, which was the first thing Geralt got to learn about you upon first meeting you.  

Long story short, he had to save your ass in a tavern when you had picked a fight with the wrong person, severely having underestimated the amount of backup your new enemy had. 

At this point, you had only been on your own for approximately a week and still had plenty of gold left, and offered to pay for his dinner and room as a thank you. 

He accepted, but stared at you weirdly the entire time, sitting quietly until you told him to get on with it and speak his mind.

“Do you not know who I am?” “White hair, amber eyes, Witcher pendant hanging around your inhumanly muscular neck, yeah I think I have an idea. I just don’t care. Heroes and villains, we're all somewhere in between.”

You parted ways the same night as he stayed behind to care for a monster-problem, and you headed on to the next town. 

It was already the next day that you met again. 

He had come to the town you had landed yourself in and left into town for some business, and come back to the stables to find you petting and talking to Roach, feeding him apples from your bag. 

“Hm, you again.”  “Nice to see you, too, Witcher.”

You traveled to your next destination together, and Geralt quickly realized that you were in no way a noble lady, despite being raised so. 

You were a big eater and completely terrible at singing. Your personality was gruff and grumpy, but at the same time, you never seemed to drop the sarcasm. Your humour was crude, your language vulgar, and your temper was a ticking bomb. 

The latter forced Geralt to have to step in and prevent you from digging your own grave on more than one occasion. 

“Be nice.” “I am.” “You threatened them with a knife.” “But did I stab them?”

He acted out of logic, and you acted out of your emotions. 

“Learn how to sit back and observe. Not everything needs a reaction.” “That’s easy for someone who is incapable of feeling to say.”

You set camp together later that night, Geralt leaving you in charge of the campsite while he planned to go fetch some firewood.

“What if something creeps up on me?” “Trust your gut.” “I have anxiety. My gut is always telling me to abort mission.” “How have you survived on your own so far?” “Well, I’ve only been on my own for a week as of yet.” “Hm.”

You would think he would be the one snoring but he laid as quiet as a mouse throughout the night. 

Instead, you turned out to be the one with the sinus problem, your snoring keeping him awake and leaving him aggravated to the point where he wanted to smother himself with a pillow the next morning. 

“Good morning, sunshine.” “No.” “I believe the proper response is good morning.” “No.” “Yes, but-“ “No.”

You went on with your morning, and he handed you the map to which you were quick to shake your head. 

“No, no, no. You do not want me navigating. I’ll accidentally navigate us off a cliff.” “Then we die. Now shut up and turn the map in the right direction.” “Alright, alright, I got it. I know where we’re going.”

Fast forward an hour and you’re standing at the edge of a mountain, looking out over the landscape of a town you had never before seen or intended to go to.

“I thought you said you knew where you were going.” “Yeah, I lied. But in my defense, I did tell you not to put me in charge of navigating.” “That you did.”

You were forced to turn around and go back to camp, and start the journey all over again. 

But you didn’t reach it, instead being captured by a couple of elves along the way. 

Despite barely knowing you, Geralt was instantly protective of you. 

“I’m trying my best to be polite but if you move that knife a centimeter closer to her I will tear you apart.”

Unbeknownst to him, as he was taking punches behind you and trying to talk himself out of your difficult situation, you were taking your flexible wrists to advantage, being able to snap them on command, allowing you to get out of cuffs. 

To say that he was terrified when he caught sight of your limp, deformed hands was an understatement. Luckily, however, it was enough to stun your captors and allow Geralt to knock them out. 

You found Roach right where you had left him before you had been taken, and continued heading to your original destination. 

After making it to the right town this time, you parted ways, but once again destiny brought you together the next morning and from then on you just kinda stuck together. 

Being a Witcher was work enough, but now he also had to take on the responsibility of keeping you safe. Something that proved very hard when he was the one wanting to kill you most of the times. 

You just never shut up, it was infuriating. 

But it did work in his favor sometimes, too. More often than not, you would do all the talking for him whenever he was approached about a monster-problem so that he wouldn’t have to. 

In most cases your vocabulary was cut down to “piss off”, “we don’t care” or “leave”, but on the rare occasion, you would switch it up with a “come to mama” if they flashed a bag of cold in front of your eyes, followed by a shameless order in the likes of “Geralt, go do your thing.” 

When he would only stare at you in annoyance for selling him off, usually in the middle of his meals as most people approached you in the taverns you stayed at, you would only add “please” because you knew it would vex him further. 

But still, he would get up with a gruff rumble of his chest and stomp off to do his job.

You frequently started calling him Sunshine, the irony of it just being so good. 

He found the nickname irritating. As he did almost everything else you did. 

You were a very restless person, almost always tapping your foot or bouncing your leg whenever you sat down. 

“Stop that.” “The fact that you’re telling me to stop makes it so much more enjoyable.”

It got so annoying after a while he had to start putting his feet on top of yours underneath the table whenever you sat down in a tavern, or else he wouldn’t be able to eat in peace. 

It became a tradition for you that he ordered chicken and you ordered pork whenever you would stop to eat, and then you would give each other half of your food so that you each got a little bit of both. 

Much to his dismay, you also always switched his ale out for water if it was still light out, telling him it was unacceptable to start drinking before dark. 

How you always managed to succeed with it he didn’t know, because his eyes would purposely follow the tavern worker the entire way from your table to the bar to see to it that nothing happened on the journey. 

And still, he always received a boring mug of water. 

Before he met you he could travel for days, only sleeping in the woods. 

But you had a bad immune system, so now that you were moving together you could never move for too long at a time if the weather got bad. You needed to sleep under a proper roof in rain and storms to avoid you getting sick. 

After a while, the clothes you had brought with you from home weren’t usable anymore and had to be replaced. 

The only thing left from your original pack now was the blanket you had slept with every night for your entire life and four heavy books that you read over and over again. 

When in danger and having to get away quickly, Geralt had insisted countless of times just to leave it behind, to which you had insisted to go get it even if it meant putting your life in danger. 

After a while, he just got used to it and picked up the habit of reminding you of your bag every time you were starting to move somewhere else. 

When traveling, you would force him to stop by a lake or stream once every day to let you clean up. 

You might have left the safety of your home to travel the world but you still wanted to look decent. You had grown up noble, looking your best every day. 

You hated being filthy. 

And you hated messes, too. 

You might have constantly been on the move, not staying in one place for too long, but because of the way you were brought up you still despised messes. 

You usually stayed in the same room whenever you would seek refuge in a town for the night, and always scolded him and forced him to clean up his shit if he threw it on the floor. 

When you got the time to stay a bit longer and didn’t have any danger hot on your trails, however, you took separate rooms so that he could occupy himself with a no-strings-attached shag. 

Every morning after, you would casually burst into his room and wake him up, not caring in the slightest that he was naked with a woman, sometimes several, in bed. 

“Suit up, whore. We’re leaving,” You would say, to which the whores would always gasp and exclaim something along the lines of: “I beg your pardon?” while trying to cover up their bare chests, and failing miserably. 

Geralt would only grumble, wave them off and push himself up in bed. 

“She’s talking to me.”

You constantly insulted each other and talked shit about the other behind their back. 

“Maybe if you weren’t such a troublesome fobbing, clay-brained hugger-mugger, we could get some things done.”

But the insults didn’t stop with him.

“No one asked for your opinion you abominable shit gobbling.”

“Get out of my way you sorry excuse for a mammering, tickle-brained lewdster.”

“I fail to understand how you’ve become such a reprehensible fuck waffle.”

Those were only few of many insults you threw around at strangers every day, and although Geralt was amused by your big, unladylike mouth, it was worrying. 

“You’re one insult away from starting a war.” “How fun.” “You say that now, but you can barely even hold your own in a weaponless brawl.” “Can too!”

But you couldn’t. So he taught you how to wield a sword.

Already during your first sparring session, he accidentally stabbed you in the side, and your automatic response to feeling the steel bury itself into your flesh was a mere “rude” before passing out on the spot form the pain. 

But after that, you caught on quickly. And you started growing up quicker, too, taking after him and his antics. 

Soon enough, you had gone from mocking his constant humming and grumbling, to humming in sync with him. 

You always helped each other with tasks if needed, whether it be saddling Roach, setting up camp or gathering your stuff around the tavern rooms you would stay in every once in a while. 

You just worked well together, and didn’t need words to do so. 

You grew out of your overly spastic nature, but you still lacked a filter every time you opened your mouth so even years after first meeting, you would get into trouble. 

And if someone chose to fight one of you, they chose to fight both of you. 

Geralt always tried to avoid conflict and battle, but if someone as much as looked at you the wrong way, they better run. 

He was obviously the more rational one, trying to keep you out of trouble, to which you always seem to have a talent of stirring shit up even more.

“I had a thought…” “No. Don’t make that face.”

But he always came along anyway, and it most often ended up with a stab wound or two because you talked back to the wrong person. 

And you never got away without a scolding. 

“Get off the horse so I can explain in painstaking detail how much of a dumbass you are.” “Do I have a choice?” “No.”

There was no shame or shyness between you. 

You did things in the other’s presence that might have been considered romantic or intimate in the eyes of a spectator, but it was completely platonic. 

When the time was scarce, you sometimes had to bathe together, back to back, to get it done as quick as possible. 

You would shave his face and he would wordlessly put your hair up whenever he noticed it annoying you. 

The habit had started when you had injured your arm and was unable to do so yourself and just stuck with him after that. 

He couldn’t braid for shit, but he did do a decent bun. 

You always tied your laces too loosely, so he often had to redo them to prevent you from tripping over your feet. 

You would wear his shirts whenever you waited for yours to dry after a wash. 

You would fall asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

You would share beds and food. Rub each other’s shoulders to rid of the soreness after a beating or a fight. 

You made fun of each other always, and you found it particularly fun whenever he lost or took major damage in battle. 

“Nice blackeye, Sunshine.” “Shut your mouth.”

But still, you would always be there in his time of need to patch him up, and try to talk him into being more careful - exactly like he had been forced to do your reckless ass all those years ago. 

“Look, I’m glad you’ve saved everyone and all that but it’s time someone told you to take care of you.” “I’m fine. “No, you’re not, and furthermore, if you don’t take care of yourself, think of all the people who need you in the future who won't have you. Think of Ciri.”

It was funny, how you had been the one to be driven by emotions to a start, unable to control your anger and putting yourself in harm’s way, and now it was usually the other way around. 

You took care of him when it came to patching him up, and he took care of you in every other way. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” “Take my cloak.” “I’ll get the firewood, sit down.” “You can have my half.” “Watch your step.”

Those were only a few of the ways he told you he cared for you, along with “I hate you.”

“I hate you” became your way to say “I love you”, and you said it several times throughout the day. 

Even this long into your friendship, and countless of poems and songs later, people still got shocked when seeing you walk side by side down the streets. 

Geralt was powerful, had a serious face. You did not want to get on his bad side, let’s just leave it there.

But you. You were cute, had a kind face and a contagious laugh. You were kind, despite your big mouth and usually vulgar attitude. 

Still, he always warned people to never hurt you or else, but everyone always assumes he said this as a warning of what he would do to them, even though he was, in reality, warning them about you. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” “Why? What’s she gonna do? Woo me to death?” “Underestimate her. That will be fun.” 

Then they would approach you and find out you’re actually badass as shit, getting beaten to a bloody pulp. 

And all Geralt would say as he stepped over their body on the floor was: “I warned you.”

Six years into your friendship, you were a lot more mature than you had been at twenty-four, now thirty. But you were still a little shit, enjoying your companion’s displeasure. 

While Geralt would always open doors for you, you would always purposely slam them shut in his face, just to give him that extra work. 

You would slap him on the chest and say “language” every time he said “fuck” and then proceed to call him a cunt only minutes later.

You were an annoying piece of shit, but he got his revenge every blue moon. 

Men who were attracted to you would usually approach him first and ask for his blessing and advice, knowing you were of noble blood and pretty much impossible to impress. 

He would always play along, urge them on, encouraging them and telling them everything you didn’t like, and then stand by and await the show.

You weren’t dumb, always saw them speaking and always spotted the amused smirk on your partner’s face as he sent the men your way. 

So you followed his example and played along, standing by and listening to their pathetic attempts silently, pretending to be interested. 

Always thinking they had you hooked, they would touch you inappropriately and smirk. 

“Shall we?”

And to this, you would simply smile, before headbutting them to the floor and stepping over them. 

“Not even in your dreams.”

Walking back over to a snickering Geralt, you simply passed him, glaring into empty space. 

“I hate you.” “I know you do.”

One day Geralt left for some monster-killing-business, while you stayed behind in the town you had been in the past few nights with a broken arm. 

It was the first time in years that you split up, but you weren’t very worried. 

More so than anything, you were annoyed, when he came back with a chatterbox bard trailing behind. 

“Where are you from?” “Here and there.” “What do you do?” “This and that.” “You ever…?” “Now and then.” “Boy, you are just full of information, aren’t you?” “Or maybe your questions are just too boring to be worth an answer.” “I have NEVER been so insulted!” “You don’t listen much, do you?”

Finally, after so many years of it being only the two of you, karma had caught up to you. 

You were now forced to experience first hand what it was like being followed by someone who couldn’t stop running their mouth. 

“Come here.” “Why?” “Just come here.” “No, you’re going to hit me.” “She probably will.” “You guys realize how incredibly codependent you are, right?” “I fail to see your point, measel.” “Do you ever run out of insults?” “Only time will tell.” “She’s just a female version of you, isn’t she?” “She used to be a female version of you.” “That’s seriously hard to believe.”

It wasn’t long after that that you met Yennefer of Vengerberg. 

You didn’t like her, at all. But you learned to tolerate her for the sake of Geralt, trusting his judgment. 

But that didn’t stop you from keeping a watchful eye on her. 

Jaskier teased you endlessly for it, claiming you were jealous and in love with him, yourself. But it was nothing like that. 

You didn’t want romance. You wanted meaning and purpose and adventure and you found it all in him – a soulmate in the form of a best friend. 

Legends and rumors claimed Witchers weren’t capable of feeling human emotions but after being on the move with him for so long, you knew there was absolutely no truth to those claims. 

And if she hurt him, you would kill her yourself.

Roses Have Thorns

♡ Pairing; Jungkook x Reader

♡ Genre; Angst, Fluff, Fantasy!AU, Supernatural!AU, S2L, Student!Jungkook, Wizard!Jungkook, Angel!Reader, Demon!Reader, Student!Reader

♡ Warnings (for this chapter); Swearing, mentions of stabbing, an attack

♡ Rating; NC-17

♡ Words; 2893

♡ Summary; A girl forced to live in fear because of her own power. Even though she isn’t supposed to exist, she wants to live. She’ll just make sure that she breaks herself over and over until there is nothing left of her. He, of course, won’t let her.

Series masterlist

 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Chapter Two

“Haeun? Is this yours?” You ask as you walk into your mansion’s private library. In the middle of the library stands a long table with chairs all round. Only one of the chairs is taken. “I found this glass looking thing in my room, but I can’t remember having anything like it.” You open the palm of your hand to show the item mentioned.

Haeun doesn’t look up from her book, but somehow still knows what you’re talking about. “It’s a regeneration crystal. As long as you keep it on you the crystal will heal all wounds until it’s drained of power. After that you can keep it as a pretty rock or throw it out if you wish. A gift from one of mother’s clients. We all have one.”

Despite spending her time reading a book, she couldn’t have looked more bored. You can’t read the title on the cover with the way she’s holding it, but if you had to guess it’s probably something college related.

“Why would they gift regeneration crystals? They’re crazy expensive and it’s not like one of us gets stabbed every day.” You look at the tiny crystal in your hand with a puzzled look. For the longest time these crystals were thought to be a myth. Something someone thought of while writing their newest fantasy thriller.

Everyone claiming they had one got called crazy and eventually, nobody spoke of them anymore. Too scared to be criticized by a large number of people, these owners of the regeneration crystals got silenced.

It wasn’t until a group of researches accidentally stumbled upon a small warehouse filled with the crystals that the supposed myth was proven to be reality. A few powerful witches had been creating them, hoping to be able to distribute them among those joining the military.

Back then the crystals weren’t nearly as powerful or small as they are now, but as a myth proven true all the tabloids were filled with the news. Obviously the researches saw money in the crystals, and instead of giving them to those that needed them for free like the witches wanted, they sold them off to those with power.

Needles to say the creators were angry and stopped producing them. Some say they still created the crystals in secret, giving them off to the ones they trusted as soon as they were done so nobody could selfishly steal them, though this was never confirmed.

It wasn’t until a few years later that researches found another type of witches who were able to make them. These individuals had a completely different mindset compared to the original inventors, and decided to team up with the researchers, creating the crystals to sell them.

Sadly, both types of witches that were able to produce these see-through stones slowly died out, leaving just a handful all over the world. The crystals got rarer by the day, prices skyrocketing. If you’re lucky you’ll meet a nice witch sometime during your life who will create you a free crystal. If not, you must be ready to pay a fortune.

“Should you really be talking though? If anything you need it the most out of us all.” She closes her book after placing a bookmark in between pages. “Nobody is trying to harm me Haeun.”

Your older sister never seemed to particularly like you, and you’ve never been able to find out why. Out of your three siblings, all older than you, she’s the only one who seems to hold a grudge against you. By now it’s almost an everyday occurrence, wondering why she was the only one that had to stay home besides yourself, while the others moved out when they finished high school.

“Because you’ve been protected by a stuck-up entitled brat your whole life.” She glares at you and pushes her chair back to stand up, clearly not wanting to be in the same room as you. “You’re lucky you’re mom’s child. She’s probably the only person who would go through such great lengths to make sure you’re safe.”

Being the youngest child, you’ve always sought for the validation of your older siblings. That worked two times, or more specific, it worked for the two twins in the household. Your 24 year old brother and sister adore you, always calling to make sure everything is okay back home. Haeun though, can’t seem to hold that same energy.

“You truly speak like a fully-fledged demon.” You do not wish to fight with her, still, you also can’t just let her get away with her words. Perhaps this is your own way of trying to show her that she hurt you.

“I’d like to remind you that your own mother and like half of your family tree is full-demon.” She seems to think your distress is amusing, happily replying to your insults. “You’re the only one whose personality matches one as well.”

Somewhere you were hoping she’d comfort you, apologizing for her words. “If I’m so bad then why is nobody hunting me down? Why am I not the one being protected?” You can’t do anything but look at the ground and stand there, not knowing what to say.

Haeun, noticing your lack of answer, walks up to you so she can deliver her following words right in your face. “You know, criminals aren’t supposed to be protected.” Walking past you, she gets to the exit of the room.

“I didn’t do anything.” Once again you’re trying to hold back tears. Why do you have to be such a cry baby? “Keep telling yourself that. Hopefully it’ll come true one day.” Is it her mission to make you feel as miserable as she possibly can?

“Is it so wrong to just want to feel safe?” You whisper, but her sensitive ears still hear you. “In your case, of course it is.” With that she walks out, letting the door fall closed behind her. With her she takes the little confidence you managed to build up for yourself.

The loud thud of something – or rather a bunch of things – falling wakes Jungkook up. Complete silence follows the sound, almost as if it was never even there. The still tired boy groans, rolls over, and gets ready to fall back asleep. It’s Saturday, waking up at any time before 1 pm is way too early according to him.

Just for a second Jungkook debates whether he should go check if everything is okay, but quickly dismisses the thought. Nobody is screaming out it pain, so it should be fine. Except if said person fucked up so bad that whatever fell instantly killed them.

Jungkook sighs and accepts the fact that he might be a teensy bit worried. He yawns, not caring to block his mouth, and sits up in bed. There’s not much his eyes have to adjust to, as the room is still completely dark thanks to his blackout curtains hanging in front of the windows. The curtains were hell for his basically empty bank account back when he bought them, but damn do they do a good job at keeping the light out.

He can’t tell what time it is, but his droopy eyes tell him it’s definitely nowhere near noon yet. Getting out of bed, Jungkook puts some socks on his bare feet. It’s no secret that their laminate flooring is almost always freezing in the mornings. There was even a time when Namjoon was sure some evil spell had been casted on their floor, doing his best to get rid of it. Needless to say, that didn’t go very well. Turns out no evil spell was on the floor, their bitchy apartment just loses heat really fast.

When Jungkook walks out of his room he calls out for the only other person living there. “Namjoon?” He squints at the light coming through the living room windows. Both Namjoon and Jungkook have their own room, so there was no need to get any curtains for the living room. It would just have been a waste of money, although Jungkook is thinking of buying some for his poor eyes.

Nobody answers his call. Did these things just fall on their own then? Jungkook is quite sure he doesn’t live with a pair of ghosts, so he shuffles a bit further into the room and calls out again. “Is everything okay? Where are you?” He raises the volume of his voice a bit, hoping that it will help.

He can’t help but lightly cringe at the way he sounds, having forgotten he only woke up a few minutes ago and his voice is still laced with sleep. “I’m here Jungkook.” This time Namjoon responds to the call from the kitchen.

Jungkook walks over to the kitchen to check on the current situation. “What happened? I heard something falling and-“ Abruptly stopping his speech, Jungkook’s eyes widen as soon as he reaches the doorway.

The kitchen floor is an absolute mess. Food laying everywhere on top of what seems to be a dozen of broken eggs, with Namjoon’s form desperately trying to clean at the side. “Wha- How did you…” It takes him a moment before he can manage to form a proper sentence, not sure if what he’s seeing is real.

“Why is there food all over the floor?!” Jungkook nearly screams in shock. Luckily none of his snacks ended up on the floor, having no need to be refrigerated. They are still safely tucked away somewhere in one of the cupboards.

“I wanted to take something out of the fridge without moving the rest in front of it, but as you see, it kind of failed..” Namjoon looks guilty. Not only did he throw hard earned money on the floor, he also woke his roommate up in the process. Two things he likes to avoid.

Jungkook internally face palms, but doesn’t show it on his face. “This is what you get for being lazy.” Although he probably shouldn’t be saying that, as he is usually the lazy one. Jungkook bends down to get a towel from one of the lower cupboards. Initially he was going straight back to sleep after seeing what happened, but he’d feel bad if he just left Namjoon alone here.

“No worries, I’ll help you.” He smiles at his friend, trying to somehow comfort him. “Thank you.” Namjoon scratches the back of his head out of embarrassment, before audible sighing. “I’ll go get the mop.” He lets Jungkook know before walking out. This was not how Jungkook imagined he would be spending his Saturday morning, but at least nobody got hurt.

“Eleanor.” She didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing behind her. Having heard his voice for years now, the sound is most familiar to her. Comforting, soft, caring.

“It’s getting cold, so I brought you a jacket.” Elenora smiles and takes the jacket her husband offers her. “Thank you.”

The temperature dropping hadn’t been on her mind, too deep in her own thoughts. She’s thankful for the garment, instantly feeling a lot warmer.

“What do you think of the flowers?” Elenora asks Minho right after he sits down next to her. “I planted them before my sister brought the kids over, since Juwon likes them.” A small smile is plastered on her face at the thought of her excited nephew.

“They’re pretty, I like them.” He feels her eyes on him and looks down to meet her gaze. Having been caught, Elenora quickly turns her head in the opposite direction. They have been married for quite a few years, but sometimes she still acts like a high school student having a crush.

“I’m glad.”

Silence follows. Minho wasn’t planning on staying outside with her, but now that he’s here he might as well enjoy the fresh air. Besides, something feels off, a pull keeping him next to her.

“Am I a bad person?” The silence get cut by an unexpected question. “Eleanor-” “I’m making sure that someone who shouldn’t have power, keeps her crown. At this point I’m just spreading propaganda.”

She sighs and rests her head in her hands, covering her face. “I’m trying to keep someone safe by helping those with ill intentions. Does that make me a bad person?” She isn’t necessarily looking for an answer, she knows there is none.

“I agreed to it. If that makes you a bad person then I’m one too.” Scooting closer, Minho takes her hands from her face, squeezing lightly. “Angels can’t be bad, that’s exactly what they’re known for, what gives them their name.” She lets out a sad sounding chuckle. Despite everything, she can find a little enjoyment in the statement.

“There’s a first for everything.” He smiles at her, stroking the back of her hands. “No one is ever 100% good, but I’d like to think you are.” They say love makes you blind, and maybe she is, but she doesn’t really care.

“Then you are too.” No hesitation in his voice. She isn’t sure what makes him say that, but she’ll believe his words for now.

“We’ll figure out a way to satisfy everyone eventually. It just takes time of course. I trust the story won’t end badly.” He isn’t sure how to comfort her or how to give her an answer. All he can do now is support her. “I do hope so.” She lays her head on his shoulder, hoping that perhaps all her problems will disappear if she just forgets about them.

Jungkook usually loves the fact that the stores in town are open until late. He can’t even count the amount of times he went out at night to restock the snack he ate during the day, thanking the Lord for the gift of convenience stores.

Right now though, he hates it. Had the stores been closed by now, Namjoon wouldn’t have pushed him out the door to do the weekly grocery shopping, and Jungkook could have still been playing the new game he bought a week ago to which he ended up getting addicted to.

Well he wasn’t really forced out of the door, more like Namjoon convinced him to go. Damn him for having an important appointment with his project partner. Who wants to do school work during the weekend anyway?

“I should have everything now.” He murmurs while peering into the plastic bag dangling from his arm, looking back and forth between its contents and the shopping list to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

Jungkook probably bought more ramen than needed, but as long as he didn’t forget anything it should be fine. Even though it’s Jungkook who does most of the cooking in the house, Namjoon isn’t scared to scold him whenever he forgets something. Ridiculous, It isn’t even his fault the fridge ended up empty.

Realizing he still needs one of the vegetables, he turns around, walking back to the store he just came from with sighs and curses leaving his mouth. All he wants to do is go home and just get this done. There is nothing likable about eggplants anyway, when will he ever use them to cook?

Luckily for him, he won’t need to go back after all. Though, giving your life for not having to get an eggplant may seem a bit much. Not that he really has a choice in the unfair trade anyway.

Jungkook’s steps are fast, arriving at the grocery store as soon as possible is the only thing on his mind. It’s not until the clock strikes 9 pm exactly that he is forced to stop, an incredible heat closing in on his spot.

Someone somewhere screams. People everywhere start running in opposite directions, blindly clashing into each other. A few trip and fall, crawling to safety between the legs blocking their path. Others faint, their heads not being able to make sense of what’s happening.

Nobody minds them, forcefully stepping on the bodies of those on the ground. With the way people are moving it won’t be long before the entire street is empty. It’s complete chaos.

Jungkook, still standing where he stopped, looks up at the sky, searching for the cause of all this madness. He regrets it instantly, having probably been off better without knowing what was about to end him. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the sight.

About to set fire to everyone and everything, a massive blue fireball is raging his way. The bag he was holding falls to the ground, his eyes widening. It’s not hard to guess who the sender is. Luna is still after him.

It’s like time suddenly slows down substantially. The fireball is still so far away, yet also way too close. A memory of Namjoon chanting an extinguishing spell flashes through Jungkook’s mind, but is all too soon forgotten. Maybe if he had actually paid attention at that time he would be able to save himself now.

Frozen with fear, his feet refuse to move. He can’t do anything. Shivering all over, Jungkook crosses his arms in front of him as a way to shield himself. Maybe if he can’t see anything, it will cease to exist. And thus he closes his eyes as tightly as he can, waiting for the burning hot impact. He had long accepted his fate. It’s over for him.

title: the ways we say i love you chapter: 1/1 fandom: avatar pairing: zutara notes: for @goldenclasp and @zutaraexchange summary:

but this is wartime, dearest. only a few make it out alive. 

[ in which katara and zuko mend the breaks. ]

AO3

i.

zuko knows a number of things, like the smell of early-morning dewdrops dripping from leaves, the crimson glow of a fire fueled by rage, and that he is irrevocably in love with a girl who wants nothing to do with him.

he’s learned to track animal prints, and how to distinguish them; he’s learned tears don’t always mean sadness, and eyes full of affection can turn into something so twisted, so brutal, so vicious.

his mother told him, once, that love is a choice. love is being together after quarreling and spitting angry words, and love is dangerous dance that neither ever learned the steps to. improvise, zuko, and you’ll make it. he’s not sure when it became less about love and more about heartbreak, or survival, but his mother has always had a way of making things fit.

when he was too selfish to listen or understand, his uncle told him love isn’t anything. pure love is unconditional and selfless; that’s all. he said love is something we define for ourselves.

zuko has never thought much of love. and, even if he had, he would have thought love was a distraction, or something he couldn’t ever achieve.

he never thought about the way it could feel to imagine someone’s fingers intertwined in his, someone’s life intertwined in his. until he does, dreaming beside a crackling fire, and the reality of it is like a slap in the face.

to a scarred boy with nothing to call his own, love is a daydream. love is a fantasy. it is not, was not, a reality.

love has no place in war.

(still, he remembers kindness and the feel of her cool fingers against his scar. he doesn’t let anyone touch it. but she did.

somehow it feels right, that it should be her. even though he knows it’s not.)

he shifts in the dark and stares at twinkling lights centuries above him. they sparkle despite everything; they are a constant in a world that has known only injustice for far too long.

and he starts to think, no, love isn't for him. maybe what he's mistaken as love is a reaction, a normal emotion stemming from a super-charged moment surrounded by crystals and loneliness. until he sees her again the next morning, and the glare she shoots him makes his heart unexpectedly pound in his chest.

he knows her narrowed eyes and piercing gaze like the back of his hand, by now. he knows her mistrust and doesn't blame her for it.

but he also knows her soft smile when she cares, the fluid movements of her arms when she waterbends, the way she sleeps without moving, like she's ready to spring into battle at the slightest noise. he knows the ever-present fear in the back of her eyes, and how her expression is almost always guarded and unreadable.

this is wartime, and she was not born a soldier, but she was forced to be one. he knows he had a hand in that.

he has many regrets. but he will make them right again.

.

ii.

katara doesn’t expect zuko to understand. it was his people that took her mother away; how would he know that any kindness she offered him was like disrespecting the circumstances of her mother’s death? she extended to him an olive branch, once, and it turned out to be the worst mistake she’s made. to put trust in someone who rips it apart. to try to help someone who tears her apart.

she ignores his eyes over the fire. the temple is cold and drafty, and she knows zuko is warm, but she’s entirely unwilling to meet him with anything but scorn.

deep within her, she still feels some kind of call to him, some kind of siren song that pulls her toward him. it makes her body tingle with rage and something she doesn’t want to name, something that makes the anger in her even greater. katara tries her best to be a calm and parenting figure, but zuko… zuko.

so she’s surprised when he comes back with suki in tow. she’s surprised he didn’t sell her brother over to the highest bidder at the first possible chance. it’s not enough to trust him yet, but enough to make her think. she’s even more surprised when he helps sneak her out to the general who’d had her mom killed.

even more so when zuko stands back and lets her decide if she should kill. if blood should be on her hands, too. she drops the water around her and turns back to zuko, ready for the day-long flight ahead of them.

this is when she begins trusting him again.

she lets him help her collect food and water and overlooks the way his hand accidentally brushes hers as they walk. she’s not ready for the idea of it being intentional yet.

if zuko is a star she is the rest of night: inky darkness and silvery moonlight. she decides she doesn’t mind it so much.

.

iii.

being friends with katara is nothing like zuko imagined it would be. then again, he wouldn't let himself indulge in those kinds of fantasies much before he actually re-earned her trust; no point in entertaining thoughts that went straight to the pangs in his heart, anyway. they both wake early and sleep late, careful of the rise and fall of moonshine and sunlight, like a dance they tiptoe around together. they spar sometimes at night and in the morning, and they're evenly matched, depending on the time of day.

she opens up to him slowly. first it's a thank-you for helping her find closure. then it's the feel of her hand in his on appa’s back. as romantic as it feels to zuko, it's not meant like that; he knows it's katara’s way of being supportive, of understanding that he's left everything behind for their motley crew of teenagers and a cause to destroy the father he once wished could love. he doesn’t try to read between the lines of her palm.

he could, though. he could torture himself like that. he could let his dreams run away from him and imagine too much too early. she’s not obligated to like him at all, zuko feels lucky every time she doesn’t forcibly oust him from camp ━

then he jolts awake with the ghost of lips on his. his traitorous subconscious shows him scenes he can only wish become real.

by the time they’re safely on ember island, zuko’s hope has been only slightly rekindled. the girl-turned-warrior he’s fallen in love with still has a soft streak to her, like low tide, such a contrast from her sharp ice-rain. that morning after he’s tossed and turned for hours, he finally sits up. katara looks over at him.

“feeling alright?” she asks.

zuko rubs his head. “yeah, i think.”

she’s already finished making breakfast, is sharpening knives of ice using a rigid stone. the small smile on her fast juxtaposes the violent scraping of rock on ice.

“you look like you haven’t slept,” katara observes.

“i was thinking,” zuko says.

“penny for your thoughts?”

zuko stands and sits next to her on the steps, resting his elbows on his knees. “i just… i have my doubts. who knows how all this is going to end.”

katara nods but says nothing, pausing mid-scrape. she drops her tools and takes zuko’s hand, reassuring in her calm, steady grip. nothing like his hands that tremble as he combs them through his short hair. they sit for a while, resting, until the others wake up.

.

iv.

the ember island players are arguably the best part of their time on the island, but that’s not saying much. there was only one thing that the play got right: growing feelings, at least on zuko’s part. as they trudge back to camp, he can’t help but notice more acutely the slope of katara’s shoulders, the way she ushers them all along, the mother hen of the group.

he notices, over the next few days, the soft smiles that come to her face when she’s content, the stressed furrow of her brows, the slight downturn of her unimpressed mouth. he notices her mouth a lot.

but they are warriors, bred to hurt and kill, taught by powers beyond their control to hate and fight and never surrender. zuko only learns the true meaning of surrender when she stares into his eyes for a brief moment, affection in the undertones of her stunning blue eyes.

they’re alone one night when zuko finally begins to break. he looks at her lips for a beat too long, and katara notices. he’s afraid she’ll pull away from him immediately, terminate the friendship they’ve been growing ever since the abandoned air temple ━ but she doesn’t. katara’s eyes flit down over his mouth, his chest, back up to his eyes. she smirks like a challenge.

“is it okay,” zuko asks, “if i kiss you?”

“i was starting to think you’d never ask,” katara murmurs.

for once, zuko does not hesitate. he presses his mouth to hers quickly; heat overcomes the simmering fire in his veins, and he feels the cool touch of her water when she reaches up and splays her fingers along his cheek. he pulls her toward him with an arm around her waist, reveling in this, the intoxicating, beautiful feel of katara and zuko.

.

v.

when all is said and done, they move to the fire nation. katara wanders with wide eyes around peacetime festivals, no longer trying to reconcile the three versions of the fire nation she now knows: a band of cruel murders, a desolate people in search of hope, and a rowdy crowd filled to the brim with enthusiasm.

zuko links his arm through hers and pulls her toward a stand selling strange, blue drinks for a coin a cup. in the time that comes, he will be passing laws and treaties and orders to get the fire nation back on his feet. but zuko knows, he will not be alone. he takes a sip of sparkling blue magic and looks at the girl at his side, dressed now in red with the stab of her blue eyes. he sees katara and she sees him.

some say the love between them could only have lasted during the war. when they were both soldiers, fighting for the same cause. but zuko and katara both agree ━ the real story starts here.

BROADWAY LEGACY CHALLENGE:

this challenge is a lot of storytelling, and if that isnt your thing, im sorry. i apologize. if one generation isnt your favorite, im sorry. ill try to make this as fun as possible but let me tell you, writing challenges is difficult as heck. another note is that some of these are super duper watered down versions of these musicals, some missing characters and plot points. you can always add these in your storytelling. i didnt add them either because i couldnt with the current features in game or because i thought it would make things too complicated. you can always add whats missing in your own gameplay. GEN1: HAMILTON every story has to have a beginning. your sim, the new kid in town, is determined to make a mark and start a legacy in their godforsaken world. there just happens to be a few hitches. (your sim represents alexander hamilton.) - your founder sim may look like anything and be any gender. they must have the hot-headed trait, and the ambitious trait, but the final one can be anything of your choosing and the lifetime wish can be anything you want as well. - they must be a brand new sim with no prior familial ties. - they must start out with 100 simoleons and live in an empty 50x50 lot. - you may purchase the lot and then reduce funds down to 100 with any money cheats needed, use freerealestate, etc. - for storytelling purposes, i would suggest they live in oasis springs but their location is entirely up to you and they can always move when they get enough money. - you may use your 100 simoleons to get the basics. - they must reach level 10 in the writing skill. - they must reach level 10 in the charisma skill. - they must reach level 10 in the business career of either branch. - they must make a nemesis. - they must marry someone with more simoleons than they do. - they must have at least one child together; you may adopt, but your adopted child cannot be the heir. - they may have as many children as youd like. - your last biological child will be the one to carry on the legacy as the heir. if anything happens to them, the child born before them will be the spare. in the case of twins or triplets, you may choose one to be the heir and the other to be the spare. - once you are done your babymaking, your founder must cheat on their spouse successfully for at least three sim days. - the founder must confess to cheating and then apologize. the spouse must forgive them. - when your founder completes their career and skills, they must get into a fight with their enemy and get killed. mods are permitted for this demise if you desire. - optionally, you may also kill off one of your children in the same manner, but it is not required. GEN2: NEWSIES your sims upbringing was rough for one reason or another. out of spite, they get a job selling newspapers or books with a group of their friends. that doesnt end well, though, when they get a pay cut and their friend gets taken into a refuge. (your sim represents jack Kelly) - when your sim becomes a young adult, they must move to a not so great lot with six other young adult friends and a child friend of the same sex, someones sibling. these will be their fellow newsies. - your sim must have the self assured trait. - they must all join the writer career. they may not try for any promotions, but whatever happens happens. - your sim must meet and flirt with another sim with more simoleons than them and begin a relationship. - one of the newsies (any except for the siblings) must move out of the lot and cease contact with any of the newsies for five sim days. - during this time, the other newsies must quit their jobs as writers. - when the five days are up, move your missing newsy back in and the newsies may take their jobs back. - your sim must marry their romantic interest and move out of the newsies home. - they may have as many children as youd like. - your last biological child will be the one to carry on the legacy as the heir. if anything happens to them, the child born before them will be the spare. in the case of twins or triplets, you may choose one to be the heir and the other to be the spare. GEN 3: BARE: A POP OPERA school is wild. your sim and their friends are growing up and discovering sexuality in all the wrong ways. but hey, what could go wrong? (your sim represents peter simmonds.) - your sim must have the jealous and music lover traits. - they must have and complete the musical genius aspiration. - they must be in a relationship with a sim of the same sex. - you must move the partner into your sim's household. - the partner must have a child with another sim whilst cheating on your sim and keep the baby for themself. - your sim and their partner must become enemies. - after some time (as long as you choose for storytelling but its suggested a few sim days) they make up and continue being romantically involved with each other. - they may not have or adopt children together. - the childs other parent must move into the house despite having no romantic involvement with the main couple. - they both must die when they become adults. mods are permitted if youd prefer. - the other parent must continue raising the child through young adulthood. - this child will be the heir; their other parent may have no children after it. GEN 4: HEATHERS: THE MUSICAL your sim thought their parents lives were crazy? they were wrong. well, they were right, but they also werent prepared for the insanity that is their high school career (your sim represents veronica sawyer.) - your sim must have the self-assured trait. - your sim must reach level 10 of the writing skill. - they must start dating someone when they become teenagers, and they must use the mess around option at least once as teens (or actually woohoo if you have the mc woohooer mod). - these sims must stay together until they're young adults, unless you have a teen pregnancy mod. - your sim must make three friends and kill them. - your sim must get pregnant, and while they're pregnant, their partner must somehow die. - if your sim cannot get pregnant, they must get their partner pregnant and after the baby is born, the partner will die. - your sim must not get remarried. - this child will be the heir; they may have no children after it. GEN 5: DEAR EVAN HANSEN the human mind can really be a jerk sometimes. it can tear apart relationships, create sticky situations, and even kill. your sim gets to learn that the hard way. (your sim represents evan hansen.) - your sim must not have any friends outside of their family until they're a young adult. - they must be best friends with their parent. - they must have the loner and outdoor enthusiast traits. their aspiration must be freelance botanist, and the final trait can be any of your choosing. - when they become a young adult, they must make a friend. - this friend must die and your sim must start dating the friends sibling, roommate, etc. - your sim must get to level five in the charisma skill after the death of their friend. - your sim must impregnate/be impregnated by their partner. - your sim must fall out with their partner and their mother, reducing both to the enemies stage. - your sim must regain relationship with their mother, bringing them back up to friends. - optionally, your sim may regain relationship with their partner, but it must be just up to acquaintances, or a low friendship. - their child will be the next heir; they may have no children after it. GEN 6: LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS your sims boring florist job gets a little more hectic when expected when they accidentally discover a plant that eats other sims to survive! (your sim represents seymour.) - your sim must have the geek trait. - your sim must move away from their family once they age up into a young adult. - your sim must move in with an adult and another young adult; the adult will be their boss and the young adult will be their love interest. - your sim must reach level ten of the gardening skill. - your sim must get a cow plant and raise it. - if your cow plant dies, your sim must find another. - when your cow plant is an adult, they should be fed sims, starting with the boss. - amount of sims it must eat is optional but its suggested it eats at least three sims. - the cow plant may not eat your sims love interest. - in the end, your sim must kill their cow plant, marry their love interest and have four children. - this one is different. their second child must be the heir. - you must keep the cow plant bones on your lot for the remainder of the legacy*. if you move house, you should remember to place it in the family inventory beforehand. *or however long cow plant bones last, i really have no idea if they just disappear eventually or something. GEN 7: LITTLE WOMEN your sim is a strong, brave person and will not let anything get in their way on their journey to be an amazing author. too bad romance and illness exist. (your sim represents jo march.) - the oldest child must have the romantic trait. - your sim (the second oldest child) must have the bestselling author aspiration and bro trait. the others can be anything you‘d like. - the third child must have the good trait. - the fourth child must have the snob trait. - your sim must be best friends with their younger sibling. - they must have one other best friend outside of their family. - they must reach level ten of the writing skill and complete their aspiration. - later, they must make one more best friend, who, a few days later tries to romance your sim but your sim must respond angrily. - your sims first best friend must flirt with them, to which they remain romantic interests for a few days. - the third sibling must die of illness. you may use any mods necessary to do this, or simply starve them. - the second best friend may marry the youngest sibling. - at their wedding, your sim must be proposed to their romantic interest. - together, these two will not have any children. - their sibling must have a child. their spouse, sibling, and siblings spouse must all die. the child will be in your sims custody. GEN 8: THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME your sims life begins sheltered and a bit nice, despite their wish to be free. after a night out, though, they meet someone with whom they become fast friends. but when overprotective aunt/uncle finds out and death sneaks up, their life doesnt turn out so cozy after all. (your sim represents quasimodo.) ps i know this hasnt been on broadway but i love this musical and wanted to include it shh - your sim must be ugly. if you have to mess with them in create a sim, do it. - they must have the good trait. their other traits and aspiration may be anything. - they must never leave the house as a child or teenager, preferably locked inside. you can lock doors so they cant go to school or you can get a mod. - when they age into a young adult, they must leave and meet a beautiful sim. this is the only time they leaves the house. - this sim must become their best friend. - the best friend may only be invited over at night or when your sims caretaker isnt home. if they visit autonomously, it is allowed to use cheats or mods to force them to leave; i recommend mc command center. - optionally, you can add a love interest for this sim to stay faithful to the original. - eventually, the caretaker must catch on to your sims best friend. they must lock the friend (and optional love interest) up. - eventually, the caretaker must kill this sim before your sims eyes. - your sim must kill their caretaker out of rage. - your sim must stay single for the rest of their life. they must adopt one child. this child will be the heir. GEN 9: THE SOUND OF MUSIC the love of your sims life is dead, leaving them with six children and a bitterness against music. with their busy schedule, they need a nanny. they never expected to wind up with a new spouse. (your sim represents baron vontrapp) - your sim must marry another sim and together have six children (i know the vontrapps had seven but without mods you cant have more than eight sims in a household). - the spouse must have the music lover trait. - later, the spouse must die. - your sim must hire a nanny. - if its easier, you may add the nanny to your household. - your sim and the nanny must dislike each other, but the children must have good relationships with them. - your sim may not interact with their children often, leaving that to the nanny. - the nanny must have the music lover trait, which you can modify if they do not have it. they also must have any of the music skills. - when your children befriend the nanny, they must acquire a music skill as well. - eventually, your sim must become romantically involved with the nanny. - to show ~character development~, you can change one of their traits to music lover. - they may not have any children, but the youngest child of your sims previous marriage will be the heir. GEN 10: LES MISERABLES your sim is basically personified sunshine. and hey, minus the sims literally dying at their feet, they have a pretty happy life. (your sim represents cosette.) - your sim must have the good and music lover traits. - they must have and complete the big happy family lifetime wish. - as a child/teenager (whichever age they are when you finish generation nine), they must be moved away from their family into a house with one adoptive parent. - they must not leave the house (except for school) until they are a young adult. - when they age up, they must go into town and marry the first sim they interact with of the opposing sex. - they may not have a career. - their spouse must be in the secret agent career in the diamond agent branch. if you have city living, they may be a politician. if you have a mod that adds a military career (ive seen one before but sadly do not have the link), you may use that. - together, they may have as many children as you want. - once your sim dies, the legacy challenge is complete.