#and i enjoy the bard angst who am i kidding

[no-te-lo-voy-a-dar]

hello witcher nation, i never really say much here but today im thinking very hard about the fact that yes, while we see Jaskier rub the fingers Rience scorched as a very clear sign of the trauma steemed from him, let’s not forget that was just the catalysis. he basically spend a whole night being tortured by this mage, and the fire on his fingers was probably when he thought “this is it”

also, i am a very big fan of how rubbing his fingers together has become a nervous/anxious tic(¿is that the right word?). you can see Jaskier do it several times through the first part of the series (i have to admit, i still need to see if he doesn’t do that before Rience)

i just. we like seeing actions and experiences have consequences in a character’s development

[throneofsapphics]

i LOVE your angsty poly!rowaelin x reader fics

can i request more? i will gobble up anything you write not even kidding 💕

some questions are better left alone

Rowaelin x f!Reader

(part two) (part three)

Summary: He shoved a plate of sweets at me. “For both of our sakes,” he said carefully, “I’m going to pretend those words never came out of your mouth. Do you understand?” 

Warnings: Angst, drinking, nightmares, small injury, rowan is mean

Word Count: ~5k 

A/N: You are so sweet! I swear, angst is my love language. Reader is from a foreign court/country, has magic, and is able to mindspeak - I kept it a bit vague!

I scribbled the note, leaving it on my desk in my room. Going out. Not very descriptive, but I was in a rush, I’d forgotten what night it was, and I’d promised a friend I’d meet them - some bard was coming through. 

My mates weren’t opposed to me having friends. They knew I did, I just kept them separated, tried to keep a life separate from the castle. 

Maybe I should’ve left a better note, because a certain Wolf showed up halfway through. I caught a whiff of his scent - fresh too, and I knew he was in the damn tavern. But - I didn’t know if he’d come alone or come after me. 

“I’ll be right back.” I leaned in, whispering to my friend, and keeping my voice low. I slid through the crowd with ease. I spotted him in a shadowy corner, leaning up against the wall. I dropped the glamor after I got within a few feet of him. His eyes glinted, a smirk crossing his face. He had come here after me, and waited for me to track him down. I let out a long breath, but stood next to him. His eyes were constantly scanning the crowd. 

“Why are you here?” I kept my voice low enough that only he could hear me. 

“Enjoying the songs, of course.” His voice was honeyed with false innocence, and I could tell he was messing with me. 

“You missed the one about you.” 

“Shame. Which one?” 

I groaned. “I’m not playing into your ego.” 

“Pity, maybe I should’ve let them see your note.” 

“What’s wrong with my note?” My voice went taut. “And why were you in my rooms?” 

“Two words.” He tutted. 

“I was in a rush.” I hissed, then he handed me the paper. He took it. “You bastard.” I snarled. 

“Calm your tits.” He laughed, “I left a better one - ‘taking Y/N out to have fun for once.’” 

“Thank you.” I said, begrudgingly. He did save me some grief. A lot of grief now that I think about it. 

“I am a bit hurt you left without me. Now, are you going to introduce me to your friends?” A shark-like grin appeared on his face. 

“Are you going to play nice?” I countered, crossing my arms. 

“Me? I’m always nice.” He scoffed. “Besides, I’m your best friend in this world. I have a right to know your other ones.” I rolled my eyes, even though the statement warmed my heart - just a bit. 

“Alright. Best friend.” I teased, “Are you going to scare them off?” 

“Do your mates know about them?” 

“Yes.” I sighed. 

“And who your mates are?” 

“Indeed.” I fought back my annoyance. 

“They’re not scared?” He raised his eyebrows. Any sane person would be intimidated by the Queen and King of Terrasen. 

“I won’t let their majesties anywhere near them.” He chuckled, but I could tell he understood. I wasn’t ashamed of my friends, not by any means, but if either of my mates somehow thought they were a threat … it would make things very difficult. I pushed off the wall, and led him back through the crowd. I reached our booth, about halfway down the wall and with a good view of the stage, and dropped it. Instead of two benches, it was rounded, one long bench around a circular table. Cian, Isla, Effie, and Arran. To their credit, they only gaped for a few seconds, before shuffling around to make room for both of us. I scooched in, and let Fenrys sit next to me. 

I gestured towards each of them, “Effie, Arran, Isla, Cian,” And then towards Fenrys. I was halfway tempted to introduce him as ‘pain in my ass,’ or ‘bastard’, but I went for something that would piss him off more. “Lord Moonbeam.” I bit my lip as he stomped on my foot.

“Please don’t call me that. It’s Fenrys.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” Isla squeaked, her face bright red. The others echoed the sentiment, but thankfully not looking at him like he’s a God. I saw the way he was eyeing her, 

Are you really going to bed my friends? I said in his mind, a bit louder than necessary. 

Why would you deny them a good time? 

I swear to the Gods Fenrys. 

Calm your tits. 

That’s twice you’ve mentioned my tits. Should Aelin be worried? 

Don’t you dare. He growled, but didn’t use that phrase again. 

It shouldn’t have been surprising that he got along well with them. He charmed them easily - none of the bitter bastard I’m used to. He and Isla, to my chagrin, got along very well. I didn’t move to interrupt or interfere, even though I wanted to keep them as far away from each other as possible. They could be cute together, but I had a feeling Fenrys was toying with her - flirting for fun. Maybe she was doing the same. I didn’t know her that well, after all, only meeting her a few weeks ago. 

A few hours later, and after several drinking contests, I was feeling very tipsy. Maybe even drunk. Definitely drunk based on how the room spun. But, with a glamor firmly in place, I’d managed to drink a group of soldiers under the table. Where are they from? I have no idea. But every time one started to eye me in a more-than-friendly way, they seemed to pale, and look away very quickly. It took me a few times to figure out Fenrys was glaring daggers at them. I stomped on his foot. 

“Leave them alone.” I whispered. He gave me an incredulous look. “They don’t deserve you looking like you’ll murder them.” 

“You’re not doing anything.” He countered. 

“I am ignoring them.” I emphasized. “And that works well enough.” 

Effie returned, sliding a goblet across the table towards me. Fenrys snatched it before I could, and took a sip. He nearly spit it out, his face turning red, and shoved it back at me. “What is that?” He coughed. 

“Apparently something too strong for your delicate sensibilities.” I took a large sip, enjoying the warmth it provided as the liquid burned, sliding down my throat. 

He gaped at me - but I kept drinking it anyway. 

“It’s a homemade liquor.” Effie replied instead. He grimaced, staring at my glass like it might jump out and attack him. “It grows on you.” She added, biting back a laugh at his expression. 

I finished it, and stood to bring it back up to the bar, but swayed slightly on my feet. Before I could grip the table, Fenrys’s arm shot out to steady me. 

“We’re going home.” He stood. 

“You don’t get to make my decisions.” 

Effie grabbed the glass from my hands. “It’s almost closing anyways.” 

“Traitor.” I mumbled. The others had left ten minutes ago. 

Effie lived above the bar - how we met in the first place. “Go home.” She ordered instead, giving Fenrys a look. One that said - get her home safe, like I needed a minder. 

He only laughed and looped an arm through mine, half-dragging me out the door. 

“You’re not nearly as drunk as me.” I complained, disentangling my arm once we’d left the building. I watched my feet carefully on the cobblestones. 

“I didn’t beat half of the Bane in a drinking contest.”

“So that’s who they were.” I mumbled, and apparently wasn’t paying attention, because I walked right into a column. 

“Fuck.” I muttered, stumbling backwards and pressing a hand against my face. My cheekbone will be bruised. Fenrys grabbed me under my arms before I could fall, and howled. 

“Asshole.” I muttered, shaking off his grip. He looped his arm through mine, and didn’t let me wiggle out this time. Thankfully, we were almost to the gates and Fenrys quit singing. I tugged my hood up as we got closer to the castle. Nobody needs to know just how drunk I am. 

“They’ll see you stumbling.” He drawled. 

“They’ll know to mind their business.” I snipped back at him. 

“Oooh. Someone’s not looking forward to seeing their mates.” He teased me, his voice a sing-song. I sent a vulgar gesture his way, and he just snorted, dragging me through the halls and depositing me at their door. I waited until he’d walked away before heading to my rooms instead, no sense in waking them up. Besides, on the nights I go out I usually sleep in my own rooms anyways, wanting to wash the alcohol off - and Aelin and Rowan need time alone. They don’t say it, but they were a couple long before me. Maybe I’m assuming things. I’m too drunk to think too much. 

-

Normally Y/N stays in her rooms if she’s gone out, and they won’t argue or try to drag her into their rooms. If she needs space, they’ll let her have it. 

But, tonight, Rowan had a feeling. A feeling he needed to be there. To see her. Like something might be wrong. He slipped out of bed, looking at the clock. Three hours past midnight. She should be back by now. 

“Rowan?” Aelin mumbled sleepily, her eyes opening. 

“I’m going to check on Y/N.” 

Those turquoise eyes opened further. “I’ll come with you.” She yawned. He didn’t fight his wife as she climbed out of bed, grabbing a robe and wrapping it around herself. They moved quickly and silently, through the passage that connects both of their rooms. 

He slowly pushed the door open. Asleep, sprawled out on her side, on the couch. 

Safe - but a giant blue bruise blooming on her cheek. And absolutely reeking of alcohol. Did she get into some sort of brawl? He’d kill Fenrys. Slowly. Aelin placed a hand on his arm, but he could tell she was just as angry. 

-

“Y/N.” A voice murmured, and I felt a hand running down my arm. A mumbled, some intelligible noise. 

“Y/N. Wake up.” The voice, feminine, was more insistent. Aelin. Why was Aelin in here?. 

-

Her eyes opened, glassy, pupils slightly dilated. Drunk. And very drunk. How fucking much did she drink? Y/N could almost drink Aelin under the table. 

“Petal.” His mate's voice was low. “Did you get in a fight?” 

“A what?” She was confused. 

“Did you get in a rutting brawl?” I said from the door, not bothering to keep my voice low. Aelin turned and glared at me. 

“What?” 

My eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb.” 

Her hand went up to her cheek, wincing, and she threw her head back in laughter, nearly howling. “I walked into a pillar.” She said in between laughs.” 

Aelin was biting back a laugh, but I was just getting more pissed. Maybe it was a bit funny - but she was drunk enough she got herself hurt. 

“Where was Fenrys?” My sharp tone had Aelin cutting a look at me. Don’t start.  

“Caught me before I could hit the ground.” Her words slurred together. 

“Come on.” Aelin tugged at her arm, pulling her up. “I’m not going to let you choke on your own vomit.” 

She looked offended. “I am not throwing up.” The words came out very insistent. Aelin gave her a bemused smile, but pulled her up anyway, leading her towards her bathroom. “You reek.” She told her.

“That is rude.” Y/N stuck her tongue out. 

I rolled my eyes, but followed them, grabbing a nightgown for Y/N to put on. 

“What do I smell like?” She asked Aelin, stumbling next to her. Aelin’s arm wrapped around her waist holding her closely. 

“Right now? Alcohol.” 

Y/n let out an over dramatic sigh. “No, what’s my scent? You’re jasmine and lemon verbena, and he’s pine and snow.” 

“Nutmeg and honey.” I answered from behind her, and her head turned, giving me a goofy smile. 

“That’s nice.” She mumbled. I fought the smile threatening to form on my face.  

-

Aelin was very sweet, helping me get in the tub, even washing me. I tried to stop her, but she cut me a glare. A nasty one. After that I let her. 

“Who did you go see?” She asked, scrubbing my shoulders. 

“Some Bard came into town.” I said, before sighing. Her touch feels incredible. “You have magic fingers.” I told her. 

Her eyes crinkled, “and you’re drunk.” 

“Maybe a bit. Fenrys told me I beat half of the Bane in a drinking contest.” 

“The Bane?” Rowan’s voice came from the door. Low. And deadly low. 

“That’s what he said.” I confirmed, looking at Aelin instead, who pressed her lips in a tight line. “What’s wrong with the bane?” 

“They have a reputation.” 

“I have a reputation.” I exclaimed. 

“Excuse me?” Her voice grew a bit shrill. 

“I drank half of them under the table.” 

“Right.” She breathed out. 

-

She thought Rowan was going to explode when he heard her say she has a reputation. He relaxed - barely. He needed something to do or he might blow up. 

“Rowan get a towel.” I ordered without looking, and heard him moving around, before the soft fabric was pressed in my hands. “Help her out.” 

“I don’t nee-” I pressed my finger to her lips. It’ll help him. I told her, speaking mind to mind. 

Okay. Her sweet voice floated through my mind. 

Even though anger rolled from him in waves, his hands were gentle as he lifted her out, holding her steady. I wordlessly handed him the towel, and gave him the chance to fuss, slipping a nightgown over her - one he’d already picked out. He went far enough to make her clean her mouth, and dried her hair for her. That brought a smile to my lips. 

“Thank you.” She told him after, and me. 

She tried to wobble off towards her bed, her legs shaky under her. I cut her off before she could reach the door. “You’re coming with us.” 

“But it’s your-” 

“No buts.” But … What was she going to say? Before ‘it’s your-’ 

“It’s our what?” Rowan asked for me. 

She frowned. “Your night. For the two of you.” 

I frowned, looking at Rowan. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” When she’s more likely to remember it. He added to me. 

“Nothing to talk about.” She mumbled, but let him pick her up, carrying her back to our room. 

-

I groaned as the morning light hit me, streaming through the windows. My head started absolutely pounding. “Gods.” I groaned, pressing my palms into my eyes - like I might shove the headache away. A rough hand tugged one of mine away, pressing a glass vial into it. I peeked the free eye open, squinting to see Rowan. 

“I’m surprised.” I murmured. A pain tonic. “Thank you.” 

“We need to talk.” He grunted. “And I don’t want to deal with your whining.” Several months ago, I might’ve been hurt by the comment, but I was used to it by now, and ignored the second part, swigging the slightly vile liquid down. Fighting back the urge to make a face. 

“One day I’ll figure out how to make those taste better.” I glared at the offending piece of glass. Rowan snatched it out of my hands. 

“Lets go.” He jerked his head. 

“Alright alright.” That’s when I felt the heat on my face. I looked across in the mirror. A large purple bruise bloomed across my feet. “What did I do?” My eyes were wide. 

“You don’t remember?” He snorted, and left the room. 

“Bastard.” I muttered under my breath, low enough he wouldn’t hear, and grabbed a robe before following him. “What did I do last night?” I repeated, walking into the sitting room and digging through my mind for what the hell might’ve happened. 

He didn’t answer, pouring tea instead. “Where’s Aelin?” I tried. 

“Training.” He said curtly. 

“Rowan.” I said quietly. “What happened?” My memories cut off right before leaving the Tavern. 

He shoved the cup in my hands, watching and waiting for me to take a sip. I did, and waited for him to respond. 

“What do you remember?” He questioned, his voice was cold - usually meaning I’m about to be extensively lectured or punished for something. 

“Up until leaving, with Fenrys.” He can almost always tell when I’m lying. 

“You hurt yourself. Walking into a pillar.” 

I sucked my lips in, fighting the urge to laugh. “Of course I did.” I choked out. 

His eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny. What if Fenrys wasn’t with you?” 

“I have other friends.” I countered, crossing my arms. 

“Who we’ve never met.” His words came out flat. Emotionless. 

“Would you like to meet them?” I said, feeling a bit on edge. “Do you not trust me to be a good judge of character?” That wasn’t exactly fair … but I didn’t and don’t need them to approve of my friends. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” He growled. “Are you embarrassed by us? Do you not want them to know you’re with us?” 

Cruel. He was playing dirty. “Of course not. They know” I kept my voice calm. 

“Then why?” 

“You never asked.” I countered. It’s true. 

“You never asked to meet our friends, and we introduced you.” 

My breaths got heavier. This wasn’t fair, that’s not the same thing. “When you introduced me, I was just a member of a foreign court, a delegate.” 

He stalked up to me, standing so close that if I took a deep breath, my breasts would brush against him. “Was? Aren’t you still just a member of that court?” His voice was taunting, and cruel. Absolutely cruel. He meant for his words to hurt, and I could feel the slight satisfaction running through him when it did, but it was quickly pushed out by regret. 

“Maybe I am, and maybe it’s time I go home for a bit.” Silver might’ve lined my eyes, but I hit right back. I turned sharply on my heel, walking silently towards my rooms, out the main door. I didn’t look back as I closed it softly, a slight click. 

He didn’t follow, and maybe that’s what hurt the most. 

I collapsed on my bed, my knees pressing into my elbows, my head held in my hands, trying to figure out what about last night set him off. Made him so angry he’d say those things. Not that I acted much better. 

I wanted him to follow me. To tell me not to go - or to yell at me. Something. I paced for the better part of an hour, before deciding to go back. Porting off back home wouldn’t do anything, it would just make things worse. 

I took the direct passage this time, hearing another door creak open at the same time as mine. Rowan looked directly at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be gone?” The same cruel tone as earlier. Maybe I imagined that regret. I couldn’t say anything, or my voice might’ve broken. I took a step back, closing the door. 

I heard Aelin’s voice, “gone where?” But I’d already turned, heading back. “Rowan. What did you do?” 

Is this what the rest of my life will be like? Cruel barbs, hurtful words from both sides. A traitorous thought ran through my mind, why couldn’t it just be Aelin? But I dismissed that immediately. I couldn’t imagine not having both of them, not having two mates. It would be wrong, it wouldn’t feel complete. But for them - they could imagine it, they’ve lived it, and likely were perfectly fine before I came along. The two of them fit. Balanced each other perfectly. 

Am I some kind of wrench thrown in? A piece being forced into a puzzle, one that doesn’t quite fit? I’ve heard of mating bonds being rejected before. Ours is already sealed but … Even thinking about it brings a sharp pain in my chest. Gods they’re already a part of me, dug in so deep it would take something horrible and cataclysmic to drive me away from them. 

I hadn’t told them I loved them. They hadn’t told me. A final barrier that hasn’t been crossed. 

-

I sought out Fenrys around lunch, convincing him to come eat with me in my rooms. He seemed wary, considering this is definitely out-of-character for me.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, shoving a tart in his mouth. 

“What were Rowan and Aelin like before me?” 

He choked slightly, coughing into his hand, but finishing the food. I watched him intently. I needed to know. Had to know. 

“Fine. They were fine, at least it seemed that way.” He stared back at me. “What are you thinking?” 

“I’m an outsider.” I started. He gave me a look that said, no shit. “I don’t … I don’t know if I belong here.” 

“I was an outsider.” Fenrys leaned back. “You know I��m from Doranelle. It was difficult at first, but I found my place.” He spit out the country’s name, like it was poison. 

“You rejected Doranelle.” 

“I did.” He nodded, his tone cautious, like he knew where I was headed. 

“I don’t reject my home.” 

“You can belong to more than one place.” He argued. 

“But me being here is causing an issue.” 

“Rowan and Aelin fought. Still fight sometimes. Does that mean they don’t belong together?” Fenrys is more perceptive than people give him credit for.

“They’re different.” 

“How?” He sounded a bit exasperated. 

“Because they share bonds together I never will.” That truth finally came out. “And if there was a situation they had to …” My voice broke. 

He shoved a plate of sweets at me. “For both of our sakes,” he said carefully, “I’m going to pretend those words never came out of your mouth. Do you understand?” 

I nodded. A warning - if those questions were brought up … the results that come out might cause irreparable damage. Sometimes those things are better left swallowed. At the same time, I want to know my place with them. We ate in silence for a few minutes before the door breezed open. Aelin, I’d know the jasmine and lemon verbena anywhere. 

“Really?” She sighed, “Choosing that dog over me?” 

“I wasn’t aware there was a choice.” She raised an eyebrow, but sat next to me, grabbing some sweets. 

“You always have the best sweets.” She popped a truffle in her mouth, moaning. 

“And you always raid my collection.” 

“They’re bought on Crown gold.” She winked. Fenrys winced across from me, the action thankfully going unnoticed by Aelin, who had her eyes closed. 

I didn’t reply, but drank some water instead, the chocolates suddenly seemed unappetizing. “I do keep them just for you.” I covered smoothly. She placed a grateful kiss on my cheek, before turning, throwing her legs over my lap and lounging on the couch. I absentmindedly rubbed circles into her calves. 

“I heard you beat half of the Bane in a drinking contest. Aedion is ashamed. I’m quite proud.” She grinned. 

“Are you complimenting someone else's drinking prowess?” Fenrys looked amused, leaning back and crossing an ankle over his knee. 

“I’m giving credit where credit is due.” 

“Very kind of you.” I kept a smile. A forced one, and kept rubbing circles into her legs. Where credit is due. Drinker, bed warmer, what else? Aelin seemed to notice the shift, because she kicked Fenrys out, he left with a tight glance between the two of us, but no complaints. 

“What’s wrong with you?” She nudged my thigh with her toe. 

I flinched slightly. “A bit homesick.” Close enough. 

“Rowan told me about that.” I could see the bored expression on her face from the corner of my eyes. She’s keeping a tight lid on her emotions. 

“I sometimes say things I regret.” Regretting something doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. 

“We all do.” I could hear the same echo, doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.

Ask the damn question Y/N. I chided myself, I can’t put words into her mouth. “Did he mean it?” The words came out quickly. 

“Isn’t that a question you should ask him?” 

She has a point, so I countered with something I should ask her. “How do you feel about it? Both things.” Please don’t make me repeat them. I pleaded to her silently. She took some pity on me. 

“I wouldn’t mind meeting your friends, but I understand we can be … intimidating. But I don’t know if you’re keeping them from us because of that, or if you’re scared we’ll drive one of them off.” I waited for her to continue. There wasn’t technically a question there. “Do you want to be a member of this court? Would that mean you’re choosing?” 

Choosing. Right. Absolute loyalty - something I can’t promise. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

“You’re our mate.” She said softly. “And you have your place here.” 

“Are you telling me to know my place?” Maybe that wasn’t fair. 

“I didn’t say that.” She said sharply. But you didn’t not say it. Gods I wanted to hear all of the things that weren’t said, but I wanted them to soothe me. I don’t want the truth right now. I want sweet things meant to make me feel better. I’d even take little lies over these tiny cracks I’m feeling. The faltering, the hesitation. “Are you having trouble adjusting?” 

“Aelin it’s been nearly two years.” 

“And we’re immortal.” 

“I’ve found a life here.” We’re both skilled at non-answers. I still hadn’t looked at her, couldn’t meet her gaze. Around her, and him, my eyes tend to show everything. A wall I can’t seem to put up. 

“Look at me.” Kind, but unyielding. I do. 

-

Tears are threatening to flood down her face, I can see it. I can’t help but think maybe she’s being a bit oversensitive. I’ve seen her in her own court .. well, the one she doesn’t really claim. Tough love? Or soft? 

“Was it better without me?” 

Oh Gods I did not expect that. I moved fast, tugging her to straddle my lap. “Don’t ever say that.” My voice was harsh, my hand gripping her chin, making sure she looked directly at me. “Did we make you feel that way?” 

She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, I just noticed it was bloodied and bruised - like she’d been biting on it all day. “I don’t know how much of it is just in my head.” So we did make her feel like that, at least partially. 

“We can’t reassure you or fix ridiculous notions if you don’t tell us.” 

She laughed darkly, pushing my hand away from her face, and turning her head. “That’s part of the problem. They’re ridiculous to you.” I wrenched her head back to face me. 

“Don’t look away from me.” I snarled, holding her even when she flinched. “They are ridiculous, even if you believe them. We weren’t better off without you. You’re a wonderful part of us, part of us we didn’t know was there. Just like we’re a part of you. You belong with us.” I emphasized. “Come to us when you feel this way. Let us fix it.” 

“There isn’t anything to fix.” Her eyes kept steady on mine, although I could see her temptation to look away. 

“Then tell me exactly what’s been running through your head.” She swallowed harshly. “You either know it’s wrong, or you’re scared to bring it up.” Her eyes gave it away. Both. 

“Can we talk about this later?” She pleaded, breaking eye contact, her bottom lip quivering.

“Look at me.” I gritted my teeth, and she did. The vulnerability in her eyes made me sigh. “Promise you’ll actually talk about it.” 

I watched her hesitate, but she did promise. 

-

Falling asleep was uncomfortable. There was a tension drifting between the three of us, but I didn’t feel like talking about it yet, and they respected that. Barely, I could see both of them aching to have the conversation - to get it out of the way, but I needed time to gather my thoughts. A night to sleep on it. 

Eventually we did drift off to sleep. 

“Leave.” Rowan said harshly, his face set in a nasty look. One I’d only seen him give to people who were rude to Aelin or I. What did I do? 

“Leave.” Aelin repeated his words with that same look. It was unnatural, it wasn’t them. 

“But-” 

“Now.” He growled, taking a menacing step towards me. 

Another voice came from behind me. “I lied, they were better without you.” I whirled around. Fenrys. The look, they all had the same one.

“I can be better.” I stuttered through the words. 

“You don’t get it.” Aelin laughed harshly. “We don’t want you.” 

Rowan shoved me through the gates, just a bag in my hands. “Step foot in Terrasen again, and you’re dead.” 

They slammed shut in front of me. 

“No, no, no, no.” I whispered, tears running down my face, my entire body shaking.

“Y/N.” A disembodied voice said, repeatedly. 

“It’s a dream.” My eyes flew open, I felt magic flooding around me. A hand rubbed my back. “Breathe, breathe darling.” Aelin’s voice, but I couldn’t see her. A dream, it was a nightmare. 

I heard Rowan, his voice strained. “Bring your magic back in. Call it back to you.” 

I did, and it came back joyfully, swirling against the shield of wind holding it in, with teasing pokes, before flying back into me, and the room was encased in moonlight. 

“Gods, I’m sorry.” I sighed. “Please, don’t be. I’ve burned several bed sheets before.” Her voice was light, a smile on her face. “Besides, your magic isn’t scary, it’s quite beautiful actually.” I could feel her magic bubbling, wanting out to play, mine reacted in kind. 

“Tomorrow.” Rowan said, and we turned in sync to glare at him. The serious look on his face remained, and Aelin huffed before tugging me into her arms - pointedly leaving him out. 

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Hi All! I'm GoblinQueen (AKA ChildlikeGoblinQueen) and I write TOH fan fiction

cover art by @lovemoroporo !

A few things about me:

I have been known to stick with a fandom for a VERY long time, so I'll be riding this train for quite a bit.

Fan fiction has become a really important outlet for me. I have been lucky enough to make some great friends within the fandom -- and I enjoy engaging with folks regarding TOH, fan art, headcanons,fics, books, and general geekery.

That said, I am an adult with a full time job and a young family. So just keep that in mind. This is something I do because I enjoy it! I appreciate everyone who puts effort into their writing and am not in competition with anyone.

The fear of burnout is real.

I am an avid reader, a big fan of music and pop culture (I incorporate both into my story telling).

Below is a Master List of links to my current and past fics.

CURRENT PROJECTS!

Bittersweet Symphony (A 90's Human AU with @threegoblinart)

Criminal (A post SCOMverse story.) -- A bit whumpier story featuring retrieval of lost memories and early parenthood. Don't read unless you've finished SCOM. It won't make sense if you haven't.

Sweet Child O' Mine

^^ Link ^^

Years after Belos' defeat and the alliance with the Collector, things have settled into a new normal. Amity and Luz are married and have a young daughter named Azura. Hunter and Willow have also married and have just found out that they are going to become parents!

Hunter looks back on the events leading up to the birth of his and Willow's first child.

Triggered by outside influences which stir fear and doubt within him, Hunter wonders if he is incapable of being a good father given the nature of his own upbringing.

As the pressure builds, Hunter will need to lean on the support of his found family and friends to make it through unsolicited advice, planning a surprise baby shower and the public’s fascination with his past life under Belos in order to protect what is most precious to him.

SCOM is COMPLETE! Below are links to some in-universe stories that do not spoil the main plot.

SCOMVERSE Prequels:

(Before the main story, generally featuring the characters as teenagers developing their relationships and familial bonds.)

Hunter's Trauma One Shots etc:

Back to the beginning. There's one way back to home again. To where I feel forgiven (collab)

The Future's Overdue (collab)

Words like violence (Vee's POV)

If you’re sinking like a stone, carry on. (collab)

Take these broken wings (collab)

I knew the reason I felt hollow.

Early Huntlow relationship stuff. Some fluff and angst etc :

You, Strange as Angels

I Remember skies, reflected in your eyes

Sun says you fly

But traditions I can trace against the child in your face.

Thank You Consequence (Longer, multiple POV story about Hunter's first Thanksgiving after becoming a Noceda)

Huntlow Week Shorties 2023

Parenthood! (Sort of) One shots involving Hunter and Willow being new parents but the baby is yet unnamed.

Believe it or not, hands on a miracle

I Climbed a Mountain and I Turned Around

My Father's Eyes (collab)

Misc:

I'm Telling Y'all it's Sabotage! (Noceda Sibling Shenanigans)

Learn to Fly (Hunter gets used to being a regular kid while Willow is away with her dads)

My Myspace page is all totally pimped out, I got people begging for my top 8 spaces. (Hunter and Gus surprise Raine with tickets to one of the Human Realm’s most talented bards — and a custom made Hawaiian shirt.)

Here's a waiver for you to sign (crack fic involving Hettie Cutburn being obsessed with House M.D.)

Monster of the Week: (SCOM Askew-niverse)

Pre-Scomverse stories where the Hexsquad deals with monsters across realms -- and adolescence (think BtVS ). Some continuity might be a little off, but its basically prequels.

Grimwalker Stories (Scary Tales and other stories involving pre-Belos Grimwalkers.

Older:

Stranger Tides: (My first TOH fic. A Stranger Things inspired retelling of Thanks to Them.)

cover art by lovemoroporo

cover art by @threegoblinart

[sepublic]

New Descriptions!!!

           Firstly, we have Hunting Palismen! Palisman Pairing Day… Eda mentioned in Witches before Wizards that witches get their STAFFS when they graduate, which;

           Does this mean that Witches get their Palismans prior to graduation… But they only get the staffs needed to wield them upon graduation? Or did the rules change in the last thirty or so years? Is Belos trying to get kids to graduate ASAP to enter his workforce, bind them into a coven as early as possible?

           WILL WE SEE THE OTHERS WITH THEIR OWN PALISMEN I am SO excited for this episode, will we see Willow, Gus, and Amity with palismen? Background characters with palismen, and cameos for Boscha, Skara, Viney and the Detention Kids??? Palismen would provide SUCH an opportunity for aesthetic and character symbolism, I am HYPED…!

           I do have to wonder- Will kids actually make their palismen, or are they just figuring out which type they’ll pair with? Eda said she made Owlbert, but she’s an exception- So it’s possible that Palismen are premade and assigned to witches… Is this another change from Belos, or how it’s always been?

           If kids aren’t making palismen anymore, could it be due to palisman wood dwindling as a resource, so they have to reuse some? That’d be interesting… And of course, Luz doesn’t pair with any particular palisman of her own! Is the Cardinal from the trailers a Palisman she tried to assign herself towards, but it just didn’t work out- And now the two are working together, perhaps to eventually find out that it CAN work?

           Will Luz perhaps go reach out to the Bat Queen to figure out what her Palisman should be, maybe even adopt one? Again, I adore the idea of Luz adopting a broken palisman for a HUGE list of reasons, found family and whatnot, and also the idea of conservation and rehabilitation, giving these palismans a new home of sorts, how it defies the prejudice that some people have about adopting previously-owned or abuse pets, shelter pets, etc.

           Perhaps Luz will start off with the idea of finding a lost and broken Palisman –like herself- with the Bat Queen, only to stumble across Kikimora and the Emperor’s Coven trying to attack! She of course helps, but this also makes me wonder- With the mention of a ‘foe’ that Luz is working with… Is she working with the Golden Guard? It’s an idea I’d considered beforehand, hence why she has his staff- After all, GG is a rather diplomatic person who will initiate deals and alliances with his enemies without anyone really asking him to!

           Again, there’s that shot from the trailer that looks like his own staff was made from a wild witch’s… Will we see the Golden Guard give a flashback, some backstory into how Belos killed and consumed his Palisman, before converting GG’s staff into the technological one we see today? Does the Golden Guard want to secretly, covertly defy Belos’ extermination of Palismen and their wood, due to his own sentimental feelings and morality- Or is he just trying to use Luz, and she sees a mutual goal she can help him with?

           Perhaps the Golden Guard arranges for a deal with Luz- He’ll stop hunting Palismen if she helps him with this… And/or he’s secretly going against Belos, but in a way that still benefits everyone! It’s possible the Cardinal that Luz has on her shoulder is a broken palisman she befriends- But what if it’s GG in disguise? What if that’s his own palisman, a new one he befriended after the first was killed by Belos, and GG has decided that no more… No more palismen will be hurt!

           Him siding with Luz for this one incident could add to the Golden Guard’s placement between Lilith and Kikimora in the intro… And it’d add to his general ambiguity as a character, as someone who DOES disagree with Belos and will gladly go against him from time to time, but otherwise supports him for the most part. GG could be a contrast and parallel to Lilith, as someone in the Emperor’s Coven with his own morals that makes him defy Belos behind his back, even if overall he still agrees- Except he’s operating more on moral principles, compared to Lilith’s needed bias with her own sister.

           We might see Kikimora figure out the Golden Guard’s treachery and get deeply angered, especially since she’s had to deal with this kid for so long- So she sees an opportunity for some vengeance and transforms into that Hand Dragon… And it’s possible we’ll see GG be banned from the Emperor’s Coven for this, which would REALLY change things up, quickly, as he becomes a rogue agent of his own, one that Luz begins to sympathize with and wants to convince to join her cause…

           Or, GG’s mistake will be tolerated. He might remain hidden, and/or he makes up for it… But he also might get punished, as I’ve speculated before!

           Then in Eda’s Requiem, we have a ‘special witch’ from Eda’s past, obviously Rayne… And they’re enlisting her help in a rebellion against Belos??? This could be a trap, what if it’s not public that Rayne has officially replaced the Bard Coven leader… Their promotion could be EXTREMELY recent, by the events of this episode actually!

           Are they rebelling in part because they don’t want this position, and/or they accepted it as a means of infiltrating Belos’ network and providing information to the rebellion? Could Rayne be associated with the investors at Blight Industries, who seemed interested in the Abomatons and other inventions of Alador- Because the Golden Guard implies the potential for a private army? We might see other pockets and cells of rebellion, some with less altruistic motives, come into play- Especially with Willow and Gus’ protest emboldening everyone.

           Is Rayne being ideological, or do they have their own motives? I’ve speculated before that the original Bard Head was their father… Did Belos kill their father, leading to Rayne’s disillusionment? Is Rayne trying to protect their father, and that’s how they were enlisted as his replacement in the first place? Did Rayne’s father also plot against Belos and was deposed and/or killed for this, and now Rayne is following in his footsteps?

          We could see the show suggest and delve into the idea of a full-blown rebellion against Belos, with Rayne possibly working at the helm, but who knows? Maybe they’ll have to betray Eda after all –again, for their father- or so they can prove themselves to Belos and be promoted as Coven Head… Either for personal gain, or because they’re trying to work against the Emperor from within! 

          Which could lead to a painful misunderstanding, fully justifiable on Eda’s behalf, that Rayne doesn’t care and just used her… Which isn’t entirely wrong, either- And Rayne can only accept this in agonizing silence, because they can’t tell the truth, at least not yet…

           Or, Eda and Rayne knowingly work together to get the latter the Bard Head position! Maybe Eda forgives Rayne a little when she finds out, and respects the mischief and trickery and scamming! Rayne’s betrayal could remind her of Lilith, but if Rayne was actually altruistic in THEIR motives, that could change things for Eda… But it’s called Eda’s Requiem, so we might expect angst and a genuine betrayal, a loss of friendship- And THAT would hurt!

           And then, Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door has him attempting to help the trio! Baseless speculation I shall throw out, will he try to turn himself into an autonomous creature to help, only to transform into a terrifying owl monster, the one from the trailer? Maybe from trying to split the curse further with Eda and Lilith? Or will this just be a breather episode where the characters are allowed to mostly just exist and interact with one another, enjoy each other? That’d be nice…

[mlm-writer]

Hero of the Swamp (Shrek x Jaskier)

Edit by me 

Pairing: Shrek x Netflix!Jaskier (Julian Alfred Pankratz/Dandelion) Rating: Explicit Words: 2893 POV: Third Summary: After being left on the mountain, Jaskier finds himself lost in the swamp and in need of warmth and comfort. Note: Y’all can thank @spielzeugkaiser​ and their amazing art for this. Sorry for the sloppy edit, but I really was not going to put even more time into this sinful work.  Tags: I’ve been a bad boy daddy forgive me father fore I have sinned, pre-movies Shrek, post-mountain Jaskier, angst, fluff, Shrek’s huge dong, size kink, cum shower, monster cock, blowjobs, rimming, cum eating and Shrek has emotions ok 

The growls of monsters lurking in the forest rolled over the muddy forest grounds and reached Jaskier’s icy ears. He shivered in both terror and response to the temperature. He told himself he could get off that mountain on his own, but who was he kidding? His frigid ears caught something in the dark. The bard bolted off the path, then later found himself in the middle of nowhere, chilled to the bone, disoriented, and, to be honest, frightened. 

He was looking for a path, but even that seemed to not be present anywhere in the vicinity. Jaskier rubbed his trembling hands together and walked on. Jaskier thought he should at last find some shelter from the wind. Just as he was about to settle for a random tree, he noticed light in the distance, warm like fire, inviting him and promising warmth and shelter. 

The fatigued bard all but ran towards it, the signs around the perimeter unnoticed in the dark. His boots sunk into the mud of the swamp, but he had his eyes set on the house-like structure in the middle of the swamp. He could not believe anyone wanted to live in this stinky place, but right now this someone was about to be his saviour. Once at what he assumed to be the door, he knocked on it. When there was no answer he knocked again. There were some angry, heavy footsteps, before the door opened. 

Before him stood a massive humanoid, skin green like peas, frame built like Geralt who preferred cake over his nasty potions. “Eh, good evening, sir,” Jaskier tried. If it was living in a house, it must be intelligent to some extent… right? “Could you please spare some place for a weary traveller?” The green creature did not look nice, even without its facial expressions. Some tension left its body after the question. Jaskier recognised it as a hint of confusion. “I’m afraid I’ll freeze to death if I don’t warm myself by a fire.” 

“No, get out of my swamp,” the creature spoke. It sounded like it was from Skellige. It was about to retreat into its home, but Jaskier put his foot between the door.

“Please, I’ll die out here,” he spoke dramatically, hoping for pity so he’d have a roof over his head tonight. He was not sure if he should try his luck with this creature, but at least it could speak. Wraiths had said less words, before trying to slice him. 

“Not my problem. Get out of my swamp. The only way you get close to my fire is when I roast you over it.” “Oh please, you don’t mean that.”

Jaskier had barely finished speaking, when the green man grabbed him by his doublet and pulled him close. His breath stank of swamp water and fish. His mouth was wide and Jaskier was pretty sure he would fit inside there. The bard felt like he should be terrified, but underneath a thin layer of leather and cloth, there was warmth radiating off pear skin. He wanted to lean into it, thaw. What inhibited his survival skills further, where those eyes glaring into his. Under bushy eyebrows rested two brown pools of warm broth. He heard the green man roar into his face that he needed to leave, because he was an ogre and he was going to eat him, but it was hard to believe him. 

Within those eyes that were so close to his, the ogre told the story of a creature that wanted to be alone, because alone was safe, alone was comfortable, alone was all he was used to. Jaskier never knew that, but after today, he understood why one would think that. 

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”

It stung, more than anything had caused him to ache in ages. Jaskier could feel the urge to never make friends again, never love again, never lust after one he could not have. However, he refused. It was pain that made life worth living. Without pain, bliss did not feel as good as it did. The rain made sunlight so much more appreciated. The cold made fire so much more precious. The monsters made the witcher so much more valuable.

The human knew this, but the ogre holding him up by his doublet did not. Jaskier had wished for pity, but he pitied the other now. He clumsily threw his arms around the ogre and hugged him tightly. The ogre stopped yelling at him. Jaskier could feel the muscles against his body tensing up. The hand holding him loosened and he threw his legs around the ogre too, holding on and hugging him tightly. “You don’t have to be alone. I don’t fear you,” Jaskier spoke gently. 

“I am an ogre.” “And if you were really malicious I would not still be breathing. Please, just for one night. There are all sorts of dangers out in these swamps, especially at night. I just want to stay alive.” 

Jaskier could hear the ogre letting out a long sigh. “Fine,” he spoke, “but you have to be gone tomorrow.” Jaskier let him go, but not after planting a delighted kiss on the rough skin of the ogre’s cheek. 

“Thank you so much,” the bard exclaimed. He slipped inside, before the ogre could change his mind. The inside of the hollowed out tree looked cozy. It stank like hell, but he was in the middle of the swamp; what did he expect? “Do you like music? I have little to give you, but I am a bard.” Jaskier held up his lute as he grabbed the chair that had no food in front of it. One look at the giant slug on a plate and he was pretty sure he did not want to have any food. Jaskier pulled the chair a little closer to the fire and sat down with his lute in his lap. It seemed rather strange that there were two hand-crafted chairs, while the ogre seemed to be so keen on being alone. “Oh and you can call me Jaskier, by the by. What may I call you, my hero from the swamp?”

The ogre looked at him a little annoyed as he closed the door and sat back down to finish his dinner. “Uh… Shrek. You can play, but don’t sing.” Jaskier let the name roll off his tongue, before playing a calming tune. He didn’t speak, just let his fingers do their thing as he processed all that happened during the day, well it was actually more just those few minutes that haunted his mind. Each one of Geralt’s words cutting into his soul. “Eh… Jaskier?” Jaskier was pulled from his thoughts when Shrek spoke his name. He shook his head, before looking at Shrek. “You don't seem to be… you… you seem sad, well, what I mean is… I never heard such a depressing tune.”

Jaskier faked a smile. “My apologies, good sir. I’ll play you a happier tune, if you wish.” He diverted his eyes to the fingerboard, blinking away the tears he suddenly noticed pooling in his eyes. 

“No, you don’t have to. I prefer silence, anyway.” Jaskier looked up and noticed Shrek had finished eating. He stood up and started cleaning up. “You can sleep on my good chair.” Jaskier followed the ogre’s gaze to the fauteuil in the corner. He nodded. It looked comfortable enough. He had slept on forest floors with Geralt. This was more luxury than a regular day with the witcher. 

Shrek had some board and card games, which he seemed to enjoy to play. Jaskier wondered if Shrek usually played these games on his own or if he hosted guests more often. Neither seemed likely, since the games seemed to have gone untouched for at least a decade, if not longer. They shared a few laughs. Shrek turned out to be more fun company than Jaskier would ever have expected from an ogre. His jokes were terrible and sometimes a little insensitive, but he so clearly meant well. It was clear Shrek was not used to talking or any social interactions. He spoke like a young man still trying to figure out what was socially acceptable to say and what was not. Still, he was trying and Jaskier welcomes the vivid chatting. 

When they got tired, Jaskier curled up on the comfortable fauteuil by the fire. Shrek had draped a shirt of his over the human. It stank and was dirty, but it was warm and Jaskier was still low key afraid of getting kicked out to sleep in the mud, so he didn’t voice a single word of complaint. In the silence of the night with no one to talk to, words that were already spoken returned to his mind. Jaskier tried to block them out, but they bit at his brain, keeping him awake and drawing tears from his eyes. He curled further in on himself, trying to stay quiet as he sobbed into his hands. It just hurt so much to be discarded like he was nothing but a nuisance. Was that all he was? He was sure his songs brought joy in taverns, but right now the unlikely and unrealistic idea that everyone just pretended to have a good time was so overwhelming. 

The bard flinched when he felt a huge hand on his shoulder and arm. He looked up to find Shrek hanging over him in nothing but his smalls. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the ogre clearly wasn’t good with words. “I’m fine, Shrek,” Jaskier lied as he wiped the tears off his face, “I’ll just find the nearest town tomorrow and fuck the pain away.” The words had already left him, when he realised how that might sound. “And I’ll do that tomorrow, not because I think you’re hideous, quite the contrary, you might be the most handsome ogre to ever exist, but I just assumed you would not be interested in having sex with a human… male. Human male, doesn’t seem your taste, but it could be, I wouldn’t judge you. How could I? You’ve been a most generous host! I…” 

Jaskier almost suffocated as Shrek’s palm covered the entirety of his face. He got the hint and just shut up. Shrek slowly let go of his face, allowing him to breathe again. Jaskier looked away, cheeks red. He was blabbering nonsense to an ogre who preferred peace and quiet. He guessed it was time to sleep in the mud outside, however, Shrek wasn’t yelling at him… yet. 

“So you just have sex and that helps you feel better?” Jaskier nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t mind helping you feel better. It is not like I have had lassies lining up in the swamp… or lads.” He laughed a little awkwardly, making Jaskier laugh too. He took hold of one of Shrek’s huge fingers with two of his, by comparison, tiny hands. 

“Oh Shrek, you are such a wonderful host. You really do not have to do this though. I will still want to visit you again, even when you don’t want to fuck my brains out, just so I don’t have to think about some brutish asshole.” Shrek gave him a long look, before enclosing his hand around Jaskier’s waist and lifting him off the fauteuil. 

“It’s not just for you. It’s for me too.” And Jaskier wanted to read into those words, figure out the ogre with complicated feelings, but he had no willpower to. Shrek’s bed was firm, almost hard like a plank. It smelled like him, like onions and mud and firewood. Shrek tried to undress him, but his huge fingers couldn’t get a grip on Jaskier’s complex clothing. Jaskier smiled kindly at him, helping him without even needing to look at any button. “Can I kiss you?” Jaskier didn’t even reply. Instead he pulled Shrek’s head down. It was an awkward kiss. Shrek’s mouth was way too big and neither of them were very coordinated in the moment. 

When his clothes were mostly off and Jaskier was left in his smalls, Shrek kissed down his body, his huge tongue lapping at his skin and Jaskier could hear him enjoy the taste. He hummed to signal his pleasure, letting the ogre go about his business. Shrek pulled off his smalls and to Jaskier’s complete surprise, the ogre took his cock in his mouth. Jaskier whimpered, hands grabbing the sheets. Everything about Shrek was big, including his mouth. Even when the ogre sucked him to full hardness, Jaskier still didn’t feel the back of the ogre’s throat. Shrek sucked in his balls at well and Jaskier almost cried from the pleasure of having his cock and balls inside a warm mouth.  

When Shrek let Jaskier go, his length was hard, red and leaking. Jaskier barely had time to recover, before he felt that glorious tongue on him again, this time licking over his hole. Whispered pleas left his lips as he imagined that tongue inside of him. Then a thought crossed his mind. If everything about Shrek was big, what about his dick? Jaskier had seen the ogre’s hands and one finger was already bigger than the average cock. While he normally was down to go big, the imaginable size of Shrek’s dong low key terrified him.

His mind had no opportunity to freak him out completely, because Shrek’s tongue entered him and the feeling was so, so good. Jaskier moaned as big green hands spread his cheeks and thick wetness penetrated him. “Ah… ah Shrek I hate to be a uh… fuck!” The bard trashed his arms around when his new found friend started to stroke his cock at the same time. “I’m gonna cum! Way too soon, I know! Sto..aahh...” His whole body tensed as he spilled all over himself. Shrek was unrelenting. As the bard’s cock was spent, he still had his tongue inside him, pressing at the right places and wiggling around so talentedly. “Stop, stop, stop, it’s too much, really, too much.” 

Jaskier was out of breath, head fuzzy with post-orgasmic bliss. His whole brain short-circuited as Shrek’s tongue licked over his torso, cleaning him off all the cum he had spilled over himself. “Are you all right?” The green-skinned sex machine inquired with innocent eyes that did not match the absolute tent in his smalls. 

“Say, Shrek, will I die if I swallow ogre cum?” Jaskier almost laughed at Shrek’s expression. It was a ‘yes, no, maybe’. “Ok fine, but I will suck you off still.” The human pushed at the ogre, cornering the larger frame against the opposite wall, before getting on his knees. 

“With all due respect, Jask, I don’t think you can fit me anywhere.” Jaskier didn’t listen, pulling down Sherk’s white smalls in spite of knowing the ogre was probably right. As soon as 12 inch of green cock basically slapped him in the face, Jaskier knew he was in way over his head. Still, he was confident that if he tried, he could still fit the head inside his mouth. With Shrek still assuring him he did not have to do this, Jaskier started licking all over Shrek’s length. The taste was not as bad as he feared. In fact, the more he licked, the more he started to like it. Jaskier made out with the head of Shrek’s cock, fucking the slit with his tongue. Shrek was holding his shoulder, occasionally squeezing a little as he moaned. And oh were those delicious moans, primal, guttural, deep and vibrating through Jaskier’s entire body. 

The human tried many times, but he couldn’t slip the monster cock inside his mouth. He was resilient though and kept trying, while stroking the rest of the green length. He was so caught up in his quest that he didn’t hear Shrek telling him how close he was. He made a disappointed sound as he was forcibly removed from the cock in his mouth. Jaskier crawled back up the bed and stretched out his body. “Cum on me,” he wantonly moaned and Shrek did not disappoint. Jaskier had to close his eyes and mouth as he got showered in thick, beige cum. He never had felt this dirty, but it was a good kind. He wished he could have taken Shrek in his ass. He could’ve been so full. 

Once Shrek had stopped groaning, Jaskier dared to open his eyes. He could see guilt already spreading over Shrek’s face. He must have been a sight, so much smaller than Shrek and absolutely drenched in his cum. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve always fantasised about being showered in cum. Just never thought that all that cum would come from a single person.” 

Shrek let out a relieved sigh and helped him wipe some cum off his face so it wouldn’t get into his mouth or eyes. “I’ll prepare you a bath,” he spoke gently, surprising Jaskier with the thoughtfulness. His eyes followed the ogre as he put his breeches on and moved out to probably get some fresh water. A laugh escaped Jaskier as he stared at the sticky substance covering his skin. Who would’ve thought that the swamp could’ve been so pleasant? 

[slut4supersoldiers]

Happy And Sad

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes

Summary: A world where Thanos has been defeated and everyone is still alive. Things are normal. Steve and Bucky are still pining over each other. But maybe Tony’s party might bring them a little closer to admitting their feelings.

OR

Happiness is fleeting and so is sadness. And bucky is aware of that. But for once he just wants to be happy. Even without the promise of permanency.

Based on Kacey Musgraves: Happy and Sad.

Warning: If you don’t ship Stucky then don’t read this! Also: Alcohol consumption, self doubt slight mention of ptsd and nightmares, maybe a bard word? major pining.

Rating: F for fluff, A for (slight angst)

A/n: i think this is my second time posting this. The first time it didn’t do so well but I had a surge of confidence so I reposted. Please be kind and please leave some feedback. It means a lot x

Tony has thrown yet another party. A ball room dolled up with expensive decorations, lights, chandeliers and happy faces. Pristine marble floors and a fountain with crystal clear water (or is that champagne?) right in the centre of the room. Guests; superheroes, agents, family and friends all dressed to the nines, black tie of course. And Bucky is standing in the corner of the room.

A forlorn expression; a thousand yard stare. He is fidgeting nervously. Left hand covered completely (in spite of the disapproving look from Shuri). His long hair is conditioned and tied in a low man bun, although stubborn strands still fall on his face. He is nursing a glass of whiskey. Nothing gets him drunk because of the damning super soldier serum but he loves the burn from the amber liquid. Imagines himself getting inebriated enough, just enough to forget the pain that the horrid of his past inflicts upon him mercilessly. He deserves it, he thinks. Before he could let the thoughts consume him he consumes the alcohol.

He can hear music being played but he doesn’t recognise it. Doesn’t recognise anyone. Yes he knows everyone but doesn’t really know anyone. Do they know him? No one does.

He is about to take another sip willing himself to push the pain away but his breath gets caught in his throat.

It's not you, it's the glow of the party

The way that you've got me lit up inside

It's the song that they're playin', the words that you're sayin'

It's never felt so right

There in the throng of the guests he sees a familiar face. A very familiar face. A very familiar person. His person. His Stevie.

Dressed in a velvet blue tuxedo, blonde hair gelled back, a very light scattering of stubble adoring his sharp jaw and high cheekbones. Bucky thinks he rather likes the look. And by the look of it so do all the women who suddenly gravitate towards America’s golden boy. Bucky doesn’t blame them. Instead he breathes a sigh and chugs the drink along with the harsh truth, that it’s not his Steve anymore. Probably never was…

Sulking, he is about to turn and walk towards the guest room (that Tony hesitantly offered him for the night) when he hears someone call his name and that familiar feeling of his world coming to a halt takes over him. Steve.

And I'm the kind of person who starts getting kinda nervous

When I'm having the time of my life

“Buck, where are you going? Join us?” Almost hesitantly Steve asks.

And Bucky turns around. The soft voice leaving Steve’s lips calling out to him like a siren to a sailor sailing through troubled waters. Calming and alluring.

He looks at Steve, really looks at him. He is still that scrawny little punk from Brooklyn, he thinks. Charming, stubborn and god damn beautiful.

“Buck?” Steve raises his eyebrows in concern.

Is there a word for the way that I'm feeling tonight?

Happy and sad at the same time

You got me smiling with tears in my eyes

And Bucky gives in.

Joins the former captain and mingles with everyone. Or as any bystander would’ve said, spends the night making heart eyes at the Adonis like blond man who refused to leave the former Sergeant’s side the whole night.

As the clock nears midnight, the party begins to lose its swing. New agents, and other guests having already left it’s only the avengers and their new comrades relaxing and talking, appreciating being reunited. No one addresses the lost time, the tragedies; the nightmares that will come later are reminder enough so everyone enjoys the company instead.

So does Bucky. With Sam by his side and Nat, his Natalia, sitting beside him, chugging a bottle of vodka like water, Bucky feels comfortable but he is still on the edge. Almost as if he knows that this will be taken away from him someday. That’s his life. Nothing good ever lasts. Nothing good is ever permanent. A forlorn look. A thousand yard stare.

I never felt so high

No, I've never been this far off of the ground

And they say everything that goes up must come down

But I don't wanna come down

“You’re doing it again.” Nat says.

“What?” Bucky asks.

“That lost puppy look. We won Barnes. It’s time to celebrate. We can sulk later.” She raises a well groomed eyebrow at her.

Natalia, always the snarky one. He chuckles and shakes his head as she offers him the bottle.

“10 o clock, sarge! Lover boy is closing in on us.” Nat nudges Bucky. And he is suddenly alert. Doesn’t notice Sam and Nat slowly sneaking away. Doesn’t notice the red covering his cheeks. Doesn’t notice the way Steve’s eyes take him in; adoration, love, lust, longing.

“What is this? The famous James Buchanan Barnes, not dancing?” Steve jokes. Tries to make the situation lighter.

And Bucky feels lighter. Like he is floating on air but that might have to do with how close Steve is standing to him. Shoulders touching, hands brushing against each other.

“You got the wrong guy!” Bucky shrugs half heartedly.

“No. I’ve got the right one.” Steve looks at Bucky. Cerulean eyes stare into each other. Lips parted, slightly. Awaiting.

So is there a way to stop all this thinkin', just keep on drinkin'?

'Cause I don't wanna wake up

When they're turnin' the lights on and it turns out the joke's on me

'Cause it feels so right

Suddenly Steve pulls Bucky away from the wall and to the dance floor. The floor now almost vacant.

“What’re ya doin?” Bucky scratches the back of his neck.

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how you taught me dancing back in the days?” Steve suggests the red of his cheeks matches Bucky’s.

“You were smaller then. Now you’re...big.” Bucky averts his gaze. Steve bends down a little, a tiny, teasing smile plays on his lips. Cautiously, he grabs Bucky’s hand. The metal hand. Brings it to his lips. A soft, shy brush of lips against the gloved surface. Puts it on his shoulder. A weapon, a burden, an appendage, an embarrassment now an object of admiration. Bucky feels his heart beat getting erratic but the gradual mingling of Steve's heart beats with his own makes it sound like a symphony. Mingles with the music softly playing in the background. Bucky notices how his hand fits right on Steve’s shoulder. Steve places a hand on Bucky’s waist. Pulls him closer, just a little bit. And then a little bit more.

“I am still that kid.“ Steve smiles. Eyes filled with love for the broken but brave man before him. His friend. His love. His Bucky.

“Punk.” Bucky whispers.

“Jerk.” Steve chuckles.

I don't mind at all, no, I'm used to fallin'

I'm comfortable when the sky is gray

But when everything is perfect, I start hidin'

'Cause I know that rain is comin' my way, my way

Bucky is still a little sad. Nothing is permanent. But for now he is happy because for now he is with his Stevie. And he is fine with that.

'Cause I'm happy and sad at the same time

You got me smilin' with tears in my eyes

I never felt so high

No, I've never been this far off of the ground

And they say everything that goes up, goes up must come down

And I don't wanna come down

No, I don't wanna come down

Tag:

@mydarlingharry

[unprofessional-bard]

Chapter 9 - Love Among the Ruins

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: Angst in the beginning, some fluff in the middle and smutty smutty smut with dirty talk(?) at the end with a surprise 😌

Summary: The lovers finally confront each other.

Word Count: 5.925

Author's Note: For those who are wondering about the date - it's mid September & October, 2035! I'm so sorry for the late update, my inspo was a little low; writing this chapter was disastrous because I changed the course of the story halfway through but after many proofreading's and editing, here we are. My apologies again for keeping you all waiting for so long, I hope y'all are still interested in this series 🥺

Enjoy!

As you had predicted, you hadn't healed an ounce. All your bruises did was change colour and, according to Katherine, it was a sign that you were healing. Bullshit, you had said. You didn't say you knew better than a doctor, but you'd had similar scars like these and they healed quicker in the span of a week than these had in ten days.

"I'm sorry-" You had immediately apologised to Katherine after you let your frustration slip. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"No offense taken," She smiled sadly. "I understand your frustration, (Y/N). Physical damage like yours takes its toll on the person."

"I ain't healing, Katherine." You croaked, sighing. "It doesn't have anything to do with your treatment."

"I know," Katherine caressed your shoulder gently. "You went through hell and you need to rest. You need to heal emotionally so the rest of you can too."

The words stuck to you, of course you knew it had something to do with your mental health, but you didn't know exactly what you needed or needed to do.

But deep down, you knew exactly what you needed.

So that's why -after a total of a week and a day in the infirmary had passed and Tommy visited you by himself on a rainy morning- you decided to confront Joel.

"Hey," Tommy appeared by your door with that stupid smirk and Texan drawl.

"Hey," You chuckled through your nose at the sight of him. Your voice was better than it was a couple of days ago: "You look cheerful."

"No more than usual," Tommy sat down. "How're you feelin' today?"

"No shittier than usual," You scoffed, making him chortle. Before you knew it, the following words rolled out of your tongue: "I want to see Joel." Tommy's expression morphed into a shocked one, as he clearly wasn't expecting you to say that, so you added while he remained silent: "That ass hasn't visited me once."

"He... actually did- does," Tommy cleared his throat. "But you don't know that 'cause he does when you're asleep."

Your eyes widened at the new information, your brows immediately knitted: "What?"

"Dolly, look-"

"Don't you Dolly me!" You hissed. "Tommy Miller, you're no less of an ass than your brother!"

"Why am I an ass now?!" Tommy objected.

"You knew he visited me and kept it from me?!" You raised your voice.

"What's going on?" Daisy suddenly walked in, hearing the commotion from meters away.

"Nothing- don't worry," He quickly lowered his voice and reassured her. "Something bit Dolly in the ass."

"Oh fuck you Tommy," You flipped him off. "You're lucky I'm stuck to this damned bed, or I'd smack the shit out of you-"

"Why is my husband's sister-in-law smacking the shit out of my husband?" Maria appeared out of nowhere, smirking as she looked at the scene in front of her.

Tommy liked to refer to you as her sister-in-law, even though you weren't labelled as married with Joel; it unintentionally became a habit of the actually married couple and, even though the road ahead wasn't clear for you, they made you a part of the family. You didn't mind, you didn't try to protest against it because this was exactly the same case with "Dolly".

"Your husband is being an ass!" You groaned.

Tommy stayed quiet for a moment, then sighed in defeat. "You know what? You're actually right. I should've told you."

"...It's okay," You didn't look him in the eyes as you exhaled heavily.

A confused Daisy walked out of the room with an okay, nevermind kind of expression on her face, making Maria walk into the room and close the door behind her: "What happened?"

"Joel visits me while I'm asleep and none of you bother to tell me about it?" You looked between them in a displeased manner.

Maria and Tommy exchanged a guily look between themselves, then Maria spoke: "Yeah, we should've told you, you're right... but you said you weren't ready to face him just yet. He knows this and he's ashamed of what he did, so I think he thought it was better to visit you like that than not visit at all."

"Well, I'm not going to pussy out and avoid this furthermore, I want to see him." The couple exchanged another worried look before you added: "Bring him here- to me."

Tommy chuckled. "He'll come running, don't worry, but he just left for patrol..."

"Oh... okay. Afterwards, then." You said, calmer now.

"I'll let him know when he returns," Maria turned to her husband and then back to you. "I'm glad you decided to talk to him - one of you had to do it sooner or later and, well, I knew it was going to be you."

You gave Maria an alien look, many emotions running through your mind as she continued: "You may not be aware, but you're quite confrontational. I think Ellie got that from you."

"Oh, no," You smiled a little. "I got it from her. She's the most confrontational kid I've ever seen."

Maria smiled back: "As I was saying, you're confrontational, but Joel isn't - according to Tommy, anyways."

"You're right, to some level anyway," You looked at Tommy, then leaned back on your pillows.

Whether they liked it or not, a person has to come face to face with their mistakes, accept them, learn from them and move on. It was easier said than done of course, you knew this better than anyone - suddenly you felt sick to your stomach, memories of your first weeks in Jackson interrupting your train of thought, all of a sudden making you nauseous and giving you a desperate urge to be left alone.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?" Maria sat beside you. "You're going paler by the second-"

"I'm fine," You gulped. "Just- old memories-"

Maria immediately took your hand which was closest to her in both of hers: "It's going to be okay, nothing that can't be sorted out."

"I know," You smiled weakly, the need to empty your insides crawling up your throat. "I should rest a while, I don't feel too well-"

"Should I call Kat?" Tommy asked and Maria gave you a concerned look.

"No, no, I'm fine, I just- I need to sleep for a bit..." You gave her hand a weak, reassuring squeeze, then closed your eyes and pressed your head against the pillows. The couple took this as their cue and left quietly, letting you fall into a long sleep.

----

It was a tough day for the eldest Miller brother. He was absolutely drained and currently sleeping on the uncomfortable, leather chair outside your room after a rather harsh patrol; his arms were crossed and legs were spread and he was sure his neck would've snapped in half if he hadn't woken up to the echoing of a door opening. He quickly sat up, all those years out in the wild having made his hearing hypersensitive, and cursed quietly, rubbing his neck and groaning. The watch on the wall read 19:07 and his head snapped towards your door immediately, but before he could get up, a voice he wasn't entirely fond of scratched at his ears.

"Hey man..." It was Walt. He scratched the back of his neck as Joel slowly turned his head toward him. "I- I wanted to see how she was doin'..."

Joel just nodded: "She's cross with you, but she'll appreciate that."

"Wait- you cool with me visiting her?" Walt halted, making Joel sigh and cross his arms.

"I am- unless you give me a reason not to be." He said and told the redhead not to push his luck. Walt just nodded and sat beside Joel.

"Would ya mind if I asked what happened?" Walt spoke, his green eyes falling on Joel's hazel ones.

"I do." Joel didn't look at him, focusing on the floor instead. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"It's just that, I saw Tommy and Maria talking with Eugene and I overheard how your relationship was ah..."

Joel's head snapped at Walt's words which trailed off: "Didn't I just say I don't wanna talk about it?"

"Right- you're right, I'm sorry." Walt apologised as Joel gave him an irritated look. "I am, really."

Joel turned his head forward and leaned back, sighing through his nose. He couldn't believe you would've ended up with Walt, of all the people in Jackson, if Ellie hadn't set you two up on Christmas- or, well, if he had died in that hospital while saving his daugh-

"I just wanna say," Walt interrupted Joel's train of thought. "She'll come around. She always does. I pulled off some real stupid shit ever since we became friends and she always forgave me. She's a good person."

Joel side eyed him: "Yeah, she is..."

"But don't tell me you're gonna wait here until she makes up her mind and decides to forgive you Lord knows when?" Walt chuckled. "You don't wait for someone that long..."

Joel turned his head toward him once more and straightened up, hands squeezing his arms tighter at his nonsense: "I am gonna wait. You bet your ass I will - as long as she wants me to. She's broken, but healing- and that kinda healin'?" He pointed at your room. "It takes a lotta time... She has all the time she needs to make up her mind- don't really care if it takes days or weeks. I'm heartbroken too, but in the end, I'll wait."

Walt's smile immediately dropped the second those words left Joel's lips. He was frozen on spot, totally humiliated and couldn't do anything as he added: "I don't expect you to understand. If you loved her like I do, you'd wait."

Joel could tell Walt wanted to be swallowed by a deep hole in the ground - he was utterly dumbfounded and clearly wasn't aware of how your relationship with Joel was love at its truest form.

"I think it's best if you leave now." Joel sighed once more, got up without sparing another look at the shocked man, then quietly walked into your room.

----

You woke up from a reoccurring nightmare right when the chatter outside had began. It's the same scenario: You're captured by Axel, but there are different endings sometimes.

Usually, it's just the image of Axel's ruined corpse. You knew you'd done some pretty fucked up things in the past as a FEDRA soldier and you acknowledged them, but none of them was as bad as this one, you thought. Beating a man to death to the point of bringing his insides out? Even though your acts were mostly justified in your head and by the people who knew the story, you simply couldn't believe you went as far as to torture him to death.

He was right, he did ruin you.

Sometimes, right before you're captured, he shoots Joel in the head while negotiating your surrender. This is the worst one next to the one when you let the darkness envelop you whole- let it embrace you and you end up losing everyone and everything, including your mind. Those are the ones that wake you up with a brutal scream, that has the nurses rushing into your room in panic.

Sometimes it'd be after he captured and tortured you: After hearing the gunshots from outside and fleeing, you'd die and wake up in cold sweat with trembling hands. Sometimes, one little mistake and either Tommy or Joel -or both- would die. Sometimes you'd die right in front of them- Axel would shoot back instead of running like a coward and the bullet would put a hole between your brows. The thing that scared you wasn't the dying bit, it was the fear of failure and agony you'd cause to your family: To Joel and Ellie, Tommy, Maria and to the others who cared for you. The way Joel told you not to go after Axel or to not do certain things echoed through your subconscious and you acknowledged just how right he was.

That was what you were afraid of.

Disappointment, disapproval and failure.

In this nightmare, however, you were going hand to hand with Gabe. You remembered how scared you'd felt when he pulled off that move with his legs, trapping your neck between his ankles with incredible flexibility and slamming you to the ground while you were trying to stab him, almost crushing your neck - that scene was replaying in your head, but in this version, he cut off your breathing and you could't get up on time when Joel pushed through. Just as he got into your line of vision to shoot him, however, Gabe reached for the pistol strapped to his thigh and shot Joel in the head; you woke up with a gasp, eyes wide and you were trembling everywhere. You were sweating as if you'd ran a marathon under the sun and your breathing was heavy just as much.

As you laid in the bed, stunned, you heard everything that was being said outside. At first you couldn't hear anything other than your breathing and heartbeat, but as you forced yourself to calm down, the voices got clearer and clearer: It was Walt and Joel.

Your teeth were about to crush from clenching them so tight, you still weren't processing the chatter completely, but you managed to understand only these words:

"If you loved her like I do, you'd wait."

You felt like you were paralyzed on spot, tears rolling out of the corners of your eyes and running down the side of your nose were mixing with the droplets of sweat formed around your face when you heard a soft knock on your door and the opening of it: "Hey..." You were looking bewildered, as if you'd seen some supernatural creature, making Joel alert: "Hey, are you alright?"

You just blinked a couple of times as you shook your head sideways. There was a barbed wire wrapped around your throat, you couldn't reply as he walked to your side, stood just above you and asked: "What's wrong, what happened?"

You were expecting Joel to give you a hug or- just caress your back- anything. But he didn't. He didn't touch you, or call you baby, sweetheart, darling...

Dolly...

For an insane second, the failure you were so afraid of came crashing down along with the lines he spoke outside, making you gasp after realising you'd been holding your breath: "Oh Joel," You finally reached out for him, voice cracking, which reminded him of when he pulled Ellie off of that cannibalistic maniac. He gently took your hand in his and immediately sat down beside you without wasting another second. "I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be sorry, darlin', you got nothing to apologise for." Joel put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest. You were his darlin' again, just like that. His chin rested on your head as you trembled and cried: "You heard what I said, didn't you?" He felt you nod against his chest: "I meant every word of it."

You two stayed like that for awhile. Joel eventually leaned back on the bed with you in his arms and let you snivel, tears of his own rolling down his cheeks and onto your pillow in the meanwhile. His hold never loosened around you: As if, if he let you go at that moment, he'd lose you forever. He suppressed the whines that were stuck in his throat - he didn't want to upset you furthermore, didn't want you feeling guilty than you already were.

"Let me look at you," You whispered after a long time, face pressed against his brown jacket you adored, his scent making it's way into your lungs despite your blocked nose.

Joel reluctantly pulled away then, letting you raise your head so that you could take a proper look at him. His eyes were puffy and wet, just like yours: "You got a lil' something on your nose, miss."

You giggled as he reached for napkins from behind him, stayed quiet and gazed into his eyes as he wiped your nose clean; then he moved onto your wet cheeks, then the corners of your eyes. He was so gentle with you, so gentle, that you almost cried again. He took another napkin and wiped the sweat around your temples, forehead and neck; once he was done, he put the napkin away, then looked into your eyes. You shook your head and looked down, embarrassed: "Will you ever forgive me? I-"

"Shh," Joel carefully grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointing finger, pushed your head up slowly and looked deep into your eyes: "I ain't mad or upset. I would've waited for as long as you needed, if it meant bein' yours again."

Your eyes looked away, feeling more ashamed than ever. After a moment of silence, you figured, you shouldn't be upset any longer -for his sake- and spoke: "Since when were you so fancy with words?"

He chuckled softly: "Ever since I figured you like 'em." You chuckled as well and looked lovingly into his eyes. "Know this, (Y/N): I'd do anything for you. Anything."

You realised then, that a kiss much needed by both parties was long overdue, so you leaned forward and attached your lips onto his, cupping his cheek. He kissed back, passionately and full of emotion with a hint of aching, acknowledging the fact that you'd do anything for him too. Neither of you were aware of Tommy and Ellie watching from the door, the younger Miller smiling to himself, then leaving you two be while your daughter watched her parents, finally reunited and in each other's arms.

Things escalated pretty quickly after that. Your healing improved massively, but the road ahead was still long. Your nightmares were still a thing, but you slept better, so you didn't complain. Everyone's moods had improved as well, the Millers were finally happy which boosted other people's morals. You and Joel did a lot of talking and explaining, promising each other that from then on, you'd be more open to each other about the things that disturb you. Joel had explained how one of Axel's guards had taken his jacket off of him before they left because he knew you'd try to escape and it'd be a convincing trap - you, most importantly, opened up to him about how you felt as you killed the man in question.

"You said that nothing could give you more joy than... killing him," Joel cleared his throat awkwardly. "Did you... did you really mean that?"

You stared and blinked. Of course it hadn't, it could never: "Do you actually think that brought joy to me?" Joel nodded sideways. He knew you didn't enjoy it of course. "You do know that, nothing brings more joy into my life than you- and Ellie, right?" You questioned with a tense expression. Had he really seen through you that clearly to assume that the act of torturing someone gave you joy? But you relaxed when Joel let out a relieved sigh, then nodded up and down. "There's never a single truth spoken on a battle if your aim is to anger or scare your opponent..."

"I know, it's just," Joel looked up at you from where he was seated. "I'd've never thought I'd see you like that. You were... you weren't yourself."

"Were you really surprised?" You asked. "Or were you scared?"

Joel thought on your words for a moment: "I guess... I guess I was scared an' upset. To see you like that- I love you darlin'. I wouldn't want anything makin' you like- like that. I... I almost thought I wasn't-"

It was you who nodded then, letting him sigh in a frustrated manner when he struggled to explain himself, but you understood him: "I know Joel... There are ugly sides to the both of us, but- Trust me, I know."

Tommy was glad Joel had found someone he could comfortably open up to like that, it made him happy to know that his brother was in good hands- your hands, unlike his ex-wife's. A month had passed ever since and you were allowed to leave the infirmary and move back in with your lover. You were able to walk without crutches but you needed someone's help like a pregnant lady who could give birth any minute and, 98% of the time, that someone was Joel, of course.

And as soon as you got home, on a chilly October evening...

"Missed me, did you?" Joel chuckled when you didn't let his hand go after he laid you down on your shared bed. You gave him a shy smile and tugged at his hand, biting your lip as he sat down beside you.

"I'm feeling a lot better because of you," You placed soft kisses on his knuckles. "I wasn't healing properly, you know, before we talked." Joel nodded slowly and returned the gesture on your unoccupied hand - your knuckles, the back of your hand and slowly turning your arm and kissing a trail down to your wrist as you continued: "I've wanted to kiss you for so long, to hold you and to be held by you - I got all of that... But there's another thing I want."

He was no fool, he knew exactly what you meant: "Hm? Whatever could that be?"

"Come closer and I'll tell you," You smirked and that line earned you a hungry kiss as your lover placed himself gently on top of you, getting rid of his clothes in the process.

"Oh, I've wanted this too, would you believe that?" Joel smiled into the crook of your neck as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"Really?" You said, your voice quiet in a whisper, as your fingers went under his shirt and trailed up his ribs. "What a coincidence."

Once his shirt came off and he stood above you, his hungry eyes eating you up with a stare which always had heat pooling between your legs, your playfulness dropped as you took in his features. It had been so long since you'd seen his body, you immediately noticed a few changes: Like a new small scar by the side of his chest and the weight loss, of course: "How much weight did you loose?"

"Well," Joel was caught a little off guard and since you were distracted, he slowly began undoing the buttons of your blouse, invisibly wincing at the few bruises decorating your skin. "I can't exactly know, can I?"

His playful tone put a smile on your lips regardless: "I'm serious Joel- is that a new scar?"

He quickly left your blouse's buttons and dipped down, grinded his aching member against yours, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. When you parted for the sake of getting some oxygen into your lungs, he spoke: "Darlin', it's been some time since we saw each other - it's nothin' to get upset over. Trust me." You nodded and smiled, hands cupping his ass and pushing them up to indicate that you required another kiss, which Joel gladly obliged: "There are more... pressing matters to attend to."

The best part about this sex was, almost nothing hurt. You had taken a good amount of painkillers before you left and, it was like he knew exactly where you were hurt from your encounter a month ago, so he placed his body on yours accordingly. He slowly moved his head down your neck and then to the valley of your breasts, your hands going into his hair as soon as his teeth were nibbling at your nipples, giving each an equal amount of attention which had you soaked already: "Oh Joel-"

"Yes baby," Joel hissed as he planted passionate kisses around your chest, leaving a wet trail on your breasts which he missed very much; he was having a hard time controlling his urge to decorate them along your shoulders and neck with different shades of red and blue, but of course he held back. Your blouse was all the way open as you rubbed your clothed core against his hard cock. Katherine had suggested that you wore a skirt to make things easier for you when you were getting ready to move out, which you had gladly accepted as wearing pants would be uncomfortable difficult... Little had you known it'd make things easier for Joel too.

Your thighs were bare - somehow, only your underwear was covered by the edges of the skirt and the sight almost made Joel moan, much to your delight, so you grabbed him through his underwear and heard the most beautiful sound as a result: "Fuck, (Y/N)," Joel groaned, face twisted up in yearning and pleasure, which inevitably made you moan. "I don't wanna hurt you, baby."

"You won't," You pleaded as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours while settling between your legs, his grip on your thighs were somewhere between hard and soft. "I'll tell you if anything hurts, I promise, but for the love of god, just fuck me Joel."

This was probably a stupid idea. The activity would be too tiring for your body and the last thing Joel wanted to do was cause you distress instead of pleasure, but that was just unfair to the man. It was as if you were provoking him to play rough, because despite what you had told him about letting him know if anything hurt, he still was going to hold back... but what you said afterwards gave him all the permission he needed. Your wish was his command.

His pupils dilated before he lifted your skirt up and dipped his head between your legs, pulling your underwear aside and licking a long stripe up your folds after giving your inner thigh a gentle bite. You gasped loudly, his tongue brushing directly over your clit: "God- fuck!" You were loud, but you didn't care, because he was eating you up just like a man who hadn't eaten anything in a month - which was exactly his case. This felt like the first time again. His tongue expertly worked you to your orgasm, licking between your lips as his beard scratched your inner thighs from time to time; holding you down with his arms around your legs, parting them wider and moving his tongue in a variety of directions as he made you moan over and over again. He hummed against your pussy but suddenly stopped and got up to his knees. You whined at the contact loss, never having felt more disappointed in your life: "Joel..."

He quickly but carefully climbed on top of you, then laid down beside you, diving his fingers between your folds and making them linger around your entrance. With a deep kiss, he inserted a finger into you and you thought you were gonna come right then and there at the feeling. You were partly trapped between his body and the bed and you loved it, moans stuck at the back of your throat as you made out a little roughly, his finger an absolute bliss as it reclaimed its place inside you.

"Joel," You gasped. "More... I need more."

"Hm?" Joel groaned into your ear. "More of what?"

"You- Ah-" You moaned when he inserted a second digit inside your walls, leaving you scratching at his back and possibly leaving a few marks in the process. "Fuck..."

"I bet you missed this, huh?" Joel growled quietly into your ear, grinding his erection to the side of your leg as he stretched you with his thick fingers. "I know I did, seeing you like this..."

"Yes," You moaned, your hand going to grab his cock as he lightly sucked hickeys onto your lower neck and collarbone. Joel moaned when you did, a thrill went down your spine at how hard he was and when he unintentionally thrusted his hips up in your hand, your eyes rolled to the back of your head: "Ohh Joel, t-touch me-"

He thrusted his hips one more time into your hand and as soon as his thumb brushed against your clit, a not so subtle and a rather pornographic moan left your lips, head falling back on the pillows with your grip on his shoulders and nails embedded in his skin. You held onto him for dear life as he fingered you through your orgasm, the wet sounds driving him wild: "There you go, baby, you did so well..."

His words of praise and encouragement weren't lost among your shallow breaths - your body was trembling, not having had such a powerful orgasm in a long time took a toll on you. You'd never seen Joel this desperate and shaky too, like a teenager who was about to have sex for the first time (not that your case was any different).

"Does it hurt?" Joel asked while carefully spreading your legs apart. "When I hold you here?" He grabbed your waist gently - you nodded yes. You weren't exactly sure why it hurt, but you must've taken a few hits there. "Okay... How about here?" His hands smoothly moved to your hips and when you made his hands squeeze a little tighter and noticed you were okay, you nodded no. "Good... I'm gonna turn you over, yeah? Is that okay?"

You nodded, and helped him turn you around and lay your lower body on the pillows. He gently placed your legs as far away from each other without hurting you, exposing your glistening pussy and presenting your ass to him in the perfect angle. A rather animalistic grunt left his lips at the sight, but still he made sure you were okay: "You alright baby?"

"Yes..." You moaned eagerly, secretly not really looking forward to the pain you had to endure for a short while before adjusting to his size again - but you needed him, which was enough to take your mind off the pain. Plus, it was going to be like your first time with him, which was an out-of-earth experience; you were excited that you were going to relive something similar to that again.

At first, his hands pressed down on the bed so he didn't apply pressure to you from anywhere as he lined himself up and pushed slightly. You were already stretched by Joel's thick fingers -which you had missed oh so much- and you were absolutely soaked, it took you only a moment to adjust and let him move deeper into you. He lightly snapped his hips into you, making you moan simultaneously.

"F-fuck-!... You good sugar?" Joel whispered, in an unintentionally seductive tone, which made you clamp down on his length. "Fuck..."

"Yes, yes, yes, Joel-" You whined, absolutely losing your mind over the way he filled you up. "Fuck, ohmygod, please-"

"Shit," Joel growled and started to push in and out of you at a very gentle pace. "You feel so good- Oh Dolly, I'm gonna fuck you so good, darlin'-"

"Yes!" You cried out, tears at the corners of your eyes from the immense pleasure you were receiving. "I'm all yours- ahh~"

Being embarrassed by the noises you made was thrown out of the window a long time ago, thank goodness, otherwise you would've been a little too self-conscious about how loud you were and how much you talked or made noises in general. Joel was exactly in the same state, you two just couldn't keep your mouths shut even if you didn't say a word - neither of you were complaining about the other being loud, of course, it was delightful.

Your jaw hung open when he started going a little faster and harder, your mind going blank at how big and good he felt from this angle, the small bites you felt around the back of your neck wasn't helping your case in any way. You could only hold onto the pillows your head was resting on and moan into the soft material as he reclaimed what was always his.

You could tell he was having a hard time to not grab your hips, or ass, or any part of you; so you decided to spare him the agony and grabbed his wrist which was right next to your head: "Joel, oh- wait..."

"Did I hurt you?" He immediately froze on spot.

"No, no," You reassured him, a whisper of a moan leaving your bruised lips. "Help me up?"

He was confused at what you meant, but quickly got the idea once you pushed yourself on your knees. This position was particularly one of his favourites and you, despite your current state, wanted nothing more than to be railed by this man at the moment and he did it best when he held you close and slammed into you from behind.

You got on your knees and spread them wider, lowering your lower body down while you supported your upper with your arms; Joel immediately pressed his body against yours, hugged your frame with an arm across your chest and pushed into you once more, getting the loveliest sound out of you: "Look at you- couldn't even wait to heal properly..." He growled into your ear, biting the shell of it gently. He groped your breast with the hand on your chest and pinched your nipple between his pointing and middle fingers, which had you throwing your head back right onto the crook of his neck. He kissed your cheek as he continued pounding into you: "You like it when I fuck you like this, huh?"

"Yes," You whined, face twisted up in utter pleasure and somewhat overstimulation. "So good, Joel, so fucking good~"

You felt his hand, which wasn't on your chest, suddenly lift off the bed and sneak down to your clit, causing you to arch your back and have Joel deeper inside you, if that was even possible at this point and a few strokes to your clit had you coming undone around his cock with a high pitched moan.

"Shit," Joel growled and pulled out right before he came, spilling his seed all over your back and ass. The both of you saw the stars because of how powerful the orgasm was, taking a while to recollect yourselves and just panting and trembling. Joel tiredly reached for napkins which were on the nightstand and wiped you clean with them, gently turning you around and laying on your back. He rested his head right below the valley of your breasts, he couldn't seem to catch his breath; you ran your fingers through his hair slowly, looking at the ceiling then chuckling: "Was that too much for you, cowboy?"

He chuckled lightly: "No... maybe..."

You giggled at the exhaustion in his voice, then placed a kiss on the top of his head; a gesture which made him look up, then rise himself a little upwards so he looked directly down at you. You gave him a warm smile and a quizzical look, then, finally he whispered: "(Y/N)..."

"Joel?" You flashed your teeth at him when your smile widened. You really wouldn't know what to do without him, you could confidently say that he was the love of your life.

And, just like he had read your mind, with a shy smile stretched across his lips, he spoke, voice husky yet silvery:

"(Y/N), will you marry me?"

[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.

[writerman]

If you’re still talking prompts i was wondering if you could do one where Thranduil and Elrond accidentally propose to Bard without knowing they did and Bard accepts and starts to plan the wedding so when they go to actually propose to him there’s confusion, misunderstandings, humor and a little angst but a happy ending. Thank you if you do, your writing is the best 🥰

Hi, anon! Thank you for this one, it really made me think on how to word it for the misunderstanding. I truly hope you enjoy reading. 

------------

Would you marry us? 

It had been a stark and bold question and it left Bard reeling for a long moment, though his silence did not seem to perturb the two elves sitting across from the table from him. 

No, they had remained quite unaffected by the sudden proposal while sipping tea and enjoying the warm spring sun as it shone through the tree canopy above them leaving dappled shadows over their serene faces. 

After managing to locate some composure from somewhere Bard could still only give nothing more than a stunted nod. 

“Are we even able to marry all three of us?” The words came out more a croak and Bard cleared his throat and took a long drink of his now cold tea. “Is there no law to say it is only between two elves or two humans?” 

“Of course not, but remember that we are very important people, who will say no to us?” Thranduil mused with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. So confident with his words and there was Elrond nodding in agreement! 

“Thranduil is correct, who would think to stop us fulfilling a wish that unifies us in nothing but love?” Fair enough but that did smack of a certain amount of overconfidence and Bard really wanted to be sure that in marrying the two elves he would not be upsetting the law of any elven culture. 

Not that Thranduil or Elrond seemed to care much. 

There was nothing about their whole demeanour that seemed even remotely excited about the marriage. They had all been married before perhaps a second wedding wasn’t something they were wholly interested in.

“When would you like to get married?” Bard asked if he was going to put some plans in motion he might as well get the details right away, even if they didn’t seem overly interested Bard wanted everything to be perfect. 

“Autumn has always appealed to me,” Thranduil responded but he added nothing more 

It was out of his realm of expertise, especially seeing as fishing was the only thing he believed he was good at, but he was ready to learn the ins and outs of planning a wedding. 

Eventually, both elves excused themselves to deal with pressing matters in their kingdoms leaving Bard sat under the canopy of trees wondering why he felt so shell shocked by the whole exchange?

For a moment, he sat and looked at the now vacant seats and considered that perhaps he should have said no to their proposal, everything had felt so casual and Bard had always assumed elves held marriage with a sort of reverence one might have when discussing divinity. 

Making his excuses later Bard returned to Dale and spoke with his closest friends and made the decision that even without a date he would at least plan something, even if it was deciding on his own outfit or a venue or flowers, it was something. 

Holding off from bothering Elrond and Thranduil with any questions, Bard found the process unappealing and for a spell, he made no further arrangements. The eagerness he had expected simply was not there.

“Da, can I talk to you about something?” Sigrid knocked on the open door of Bard’s door that led to his drawing-room where he was struggling through several correspondences from Erebor. 

Thankful for the interruption he nodded and gestured for her to take the chair across from him which she took but remained silent for a long moment as she watched him shuffling papers. 

“You don’t seem happy to be getting married.” His shuffling stopped and he looked at her with an expression of surprise that he was unable to veil as anything else. Of course, someone had told her and he had an idea who but that didn’t matter all that much.

What did matter was that she was right. Bold and unapologetic in her statement, so much like her mother had been and at that moment he missed his wife more than he had ever done so in all the years he had been without her. 

A keen pain so aching and sudden. 

Gone in a second, as fleeting as a wish. 

“Just conflicted about a few things, that’s all.” Bard managed to mumble but Sigrid didn’t look in any way convinced and she gave him a hard stare until he crumbled, “I’d like to preface this with the fact that I am not comfortable telling you my love woes, but I am concerned that their proposal was either not meant as serious or they believe that they had to ask instead of wanted to.” 

“Da, I don’t think either of them would do something they didn’t want to do.” Her response was a simple one tinged with amusement and it was appreciated as it cut through the mire of worries that had plagued his mind for days. 

“You’re right.” There wasn’t much more he could say or rather, what he needed to say was not for her ears and she was well aware of that as she moved to her feet and left him deep in thought without another word.

His kids were too smart for their own good sometimes. 

But, by the Gods, having their clear-minded solutions offered without fanfare and with only the purest intentions gave him the healing his heart often needed. 

It was early morning when Bard was woken to the sound of his children happily greeting someone in the hallway. The fact they were out of bed and he was not did not bode all that well. 

Whoever had graced him with their presence had not announced their intentions to himself or his staff. And now he was sitting up in bed trying to chase away the sleep that still lingered enough that he would seem, somewhat, alert when someone came into the room to update him on the situation. 

In reality, all he wished for was another hour in bed and the peace and quiet that came with the dead of night but it wasn’t in his stars to have a quiet day to himself as the bedroom creaked open. 

He was greeted by the sight of two very familiar travel-worn elves who genuinely looked relieved to find him in bed still. 

Both Elrond and Thranduil stepped in and the door was shut behind them with a purposely slam from someone outside the room. They divested themselves of their travelling gear and without ceremony climbed into the bed at either side of him, their cold hands chasing away the sleepy warmth as they both embraced him. 

This was not the first time both of them had shown up unannounced and climbed into bed with him. It did leave him feeling uneasy that they would make decisions without his input that perhaps they were closer to one another than they were to him. 

Closing his eyes he accepted the soft kisses to his face in greeting but he said nothing to them of their appearance in his home. Something about the situation ached deep inside him and it was now apparent to Thranduil and Elrond who put space between themselves and him with questions on the tip of their tongues and concern in their eyes. 

“I don’t think I can marry you both.” It came out in a rush and the sorrow that overtook both elves was instantaneous to the point that Bard swore he could feel it coming off them in waves. 

“What has changed your mind?” Elrond asked softly, his hand covered one of Bard’s and coaxed it from a balled fist so he was able to hold his hand. “I understand that we have not spent much time with you lately, meleth, we hoped to fix this with our visit here. Were we too late?” His gaze darts to Thranduil who is expressionless and does not offer any words of comfort to Elrond.

His words had hurt them both. 

Of course, he regretted what he had said, he adored them both but there were too many times to count wherein he would feel so disconnected from them. It just didn’t seem feasible for them to be happily married while being spread across Middle Earth running kingdoms and spending months apart. 

“Would it not be better if you both married instead?” 

“Is that what you wish?” Thranduil’s voice was cold and his pale gaze studied Bard intently as though looking for something to give away what he was thinking but in the end, Thranduil looked away and gave a tired sigh. “It seems that we are unable to leave you for any amount of time without your thoughts becoming a tangled mess.” The affectionate tone which Thranduil now used was unexpected but the warmth in the words had Bard mentally lean toward the elf.

No relief came to him even when Elrond nodded in agreement. 

“You think very lowly of yourself, Bard,” Elrond noted yet said nothing more but instead his hand disappeared into a pocket before producing a silver ring that shone bright like a star with the minimal amount of light that streaked through the shutters on Bard’s window. 

“We came to propose to you. Thranduil and I wish to be married to you, we hope that in being wed to our favourite person you would slowly come to realise how precious you are to us.” The words were spoken softly and so filled with love were they it seemed more a prayer than a proposal and that was the reverence Bard had expected from them originally. 

A blush bloomed over his cheeks and nose as he understood now that they had not proposed but had warned him that they would. They asked if he would be happy to be wed to them so that he was prepared for such a moment as this. 

It took everything in him not to cover his face with embarrassment at the sudden understanding that he had very much misunderstood the conversation back in spring. His thoughts had jumped ahead of him leaving him confused and unhappy. 

I should have just asked them about it. 

“I don’t have any rings made for you. I wasn’t prepared, I'm sorry.” This didn’t bother Thranduil or Elrond and they merely shrugged while Elrond offered the ring to Bard again who, after being nudged by Thranduil, accepted the shining piece and allowed it to be slid onto his finger. 

“Hm, it makes my heart sore to see you accept our proposal. We made the ring with silver from both our lands so that it is from both of us. We wondered if you might like to do the same for one of us?” Thranduil suggested but he didn’t expect an answer because he was too busy removing items of clothing so he could get more comfortable at Bard’s side in the bed. 

“I am starting to think you gifted this massive bed to me for visits such as these. We all magically seem to fit in with plenty of space.” Bard mused aloud though in good humour of course. His head had calmed some as well as his heart and unease began to lift and dissipate with each second that passed in the company of his two loves.

Elrond laughed quietly beside him and as he rested his chin on Bard’s shoulder with an arm snaking around his waist to hold him in a tight embrace. 

“Of course this was the reason. Your warmth is a constant source of joy to us, and how soundly we sleep when we hear the strong thrum of your heart in your chest. How could we hear it if you offered us the guest quarters?” 

He had a point and who was he to argue with such a flawless logic. This was Elrond one of his soon to be husbands, he knew what he was talking about. 

“Heartbeat is one of the reasons, however, I for one, like to listen to you talk in your sleep because you are ridiculous in both your conscious and unconscious,” Thranduil revealed as he tugged at Bard’s sleep clothes in a bid to get him to lie down. It worked and Elrond relinquished his hold on him and followed suit, his hand reaching across Bard in search of Thranduil’s.

This was good and right. The world seemed better now, and he was sure the sun was shining brighter up in the sky but for now, he would merely speculate as he had more important matters to attend to. 

At that very moment, he was needed to provide warmth and the song of his heart to aid his beloved elves into sleep. 

Everything else would just have to wait. 

[bardofthursdays]

Geralt accidentally calls Jaskier Dandelion :))

Hey! This is the first fic I’ve posted on tumblr, I had this idea and just needed to write it down haha. There’s a bIT of angst on Jaskiers part but mostly fluff hehe, anyhoo hope you enjoy...

The bard really was a fucking idiot. Geralt thought to himself, watching him as he swatted at a bee, a hint of a smile on the witcher’s lips, he really didn’t smile often but when he was around Jaskier he often found he couldn’t help it.

“Are you alright, Jaskier?” He asked gruffly, the bard yelping as the bee flew closer.

“Yes, yes, it’s just a bEEeE” The man’s voice rose a few pitches as the bee smacked him in the face. In an instant he was running over to the witcher screaming “GERALT GeraLT HELP ME-” He then proceeded to trip over his own feet and fall flat on his face. Geralt chuckled at this, walking over to check he was ok. The smile was wiped from his face as the strong scent of blood hit him. 

“Jaskier” He hissed, rolling the bard over to assess his injuries. He sighed as he realized it was just a bloody nose. The bard sniffled, a tear falling, his sky blue eyes cloudy. He smelled of fear, genuine fear. Geralt wondered why a bee would garner such a reaction. The bard was braver than he looked, befriending a witcher was a sure sign of that. He may be an idiot, but he was tough, Geralt respected that. 

“I’m s-sorry I know I’m a w-wuss I just-” another tear fell as he sat up, wrapping his arms around his legs. The man was shaking. “When I was a child, I was stung by a bee, turns out I’m terribly allergic and I- well I almost died, I couldn’t breathe my throat closed up I-” He buried his face in his arms. A sob escaping his throat. The story reminded Geralt of the incident with the Djinn, sending a twinge of guilt down the witcher’s spine. After all it was his wish that had caused it. He put a hand on the bard’s shoulder wearily, soft blue eyes darting up to meet his.  “You aren’t a wuss, you are completely valid in feeling scared, especially after...” He couldn’t even say it.

“The Djinn” Jaskier finished wiping his eyes roughly as if his tears had betrayed him. “Gods Geralt I just-” Another sob escaped him, a wretched sound that grated at geralt’s heart until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He pulled the bard close, wrapping his arms around him protectively. 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be alright I promise, you know I’d never let any harm come to you- never again” He wasn’t sure why he was saying all this, his tongue loosened by the jarring sight of his bard crying. Jaskier shook violently, his face buried in Geralts shoulder. Waves of sadness were coming off of him, the scent overwhelming. He knew the man’s childhood had been rough, he may be a royal but that doesn’t mean he lived a cushy life. He never out and out said it but that was proof in itself. The fact that Jaskier never spoke of it showed the memories can’t be pleasant ones. Geralt was sure there was more to this bee story but he couldn’t focus enough to ask about it. The scent of sadness, pain and blood flooded his senses, he hated it. He didn’t process the words until they were out of his mouth. “Kind of funny, my Dandelion afraid of a bee” The bard stilled, looking up at him with red rimmed eyes. 

“wh- you” A smile broke out on the man’s face. Fuck, what did he just say “d-dandelion? YOUR dandelion? Geralt I never knew you cared” he said, smirking

“Shut up bard” he snapped, but, he did care, no matter how hard he tried not to. Jaskier of course paid no attention to his apparent anger, seeing right through it. It was so fucking obnoxious when he did that. He was smiling, tears still drying, bloody nose forgotten. Why was he acting like this? “What?” he snapped.

“Oh nothing, just, realized something. Anyway I’m injured terribly, I may not make it Geralt, I must be attended to immediatly.” The bard’s voice was thick with sarcasm and feigned sadness. Geralt rolled his eyes, why was he like this. Despite his annoyance, he got up, the bard whining as he unwrapped his arms. He turned to hide his smile, unsure of why the man wanting his touch made him so happy. He grabbed a cloth and some water from his bag. Kneeling in front of the Bard to start wiping away the blood. He could have easily done this himself but Geralt found he liked helping him. Once the blood was cleaned, he examined the nose, touching it gingerly. 

“It isn’t broken, I’m afraid you’ll live to see another day my friend” He said, biting back with his own sarcasm, something he never did before Jaskier. That’s how he’d started thinking of things, everything was before or after Jaskier, why did he change everything, how could one annoying bard change his entire life? He didn’t understand it. He noticed the bard was uncharacteristically quiet, staring down at his hands, hints of fear reappeared.

“What’s wrong Jaskier” he asked. The man slowly looked up, moving his hand to rest on top of Geralt’s. He inhaled sharply at the sudden display of affection. 

“Oh Geralt, you idiot” He whispered. Before he could retort, the Bard leaned forward, closing the gap between them. Soft, rosy lips pressed against his. His heart fluttered in his chest, frozen at first but slowly leaning into it. He laced his fingers behind the man’s neck, the soft hairs at the nape of his neck tickling him. As he began to kiss back, Jaskier groaned softly, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against the witcher’s. “You have, no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that” The bard said, lacing his fingers into Geralt’s. 

“Me too” He admitted “I didn’t fully realize until now but-” He couldn’t bring himself to finish as those stupid blue eyes met his, flicking down to his lips in a motion probably undetectable to a human. But he noticed, and before he knew it he was pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his bard’s mouth, his cheekbone, his eyelashes, breathing in his familiar scent. He smelled of wildflowers and spices and fresh rain on grass. “What changed, how- how did you know?” He asked, tilting his chin up with his thumb.

“Well, no one’s called me Dandelion since- gods not since my m-” He paused smiling sadly “As you know my- my original name is not Jaskier, it seems you’ve worked out the translation, do you speak polish?- Oh who am I kidding of course you do” He sighed, seeming to realize he was rambling. “My mother used to call me Dandelion, I was always quite fond of the nickname and when it came time for a stage name it just seemed right” Geralt listened intently, this wasn’t just another one of his silly stories. He was actually telling him about his past. That showed a great amount of trust. Geralt pressed another soft kiss to his lips. Smiling. 

“I’m quite fond of it as well”

[onthepageoftears]

A Humble Favor (Jaskier x Reader)// Witcher

A/N: This is another entry for @thewitcherbingo​! Also, I’m mostly writing these (and my other imagines) as a gender-neutral reader :) Enjoy!

Summary: Jaskier asks you to attend a banquet with him, but there’s a catch.

Bingo Square Filled: Fake Marriage 

Warnings: swearing!! slight angst??, fluffff, mentions of drinking

Word Count: 1,994

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Jaskier had asked you to do a lot of things. ‘Y/N, carry my Lute for a moment.’ ‘Y/N, see what Geralt is up to.’ ‘Y/N, tell me what rhymes with silver.’ ‘Y/N, fill my bath with water and add that special lavender you use.’

But this…this was too far.

“Are you fucking insane?” You could feel the veins pop from your skull, your face red from anger.

Jaskier held his hands up as if taming a rabid dog. “Now, calm down a moment—“

“You calm down Julian. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“I assure you, I do not kid.”

“Oh, really? Because pretending to be your spouse feels like a big joke to me.”

“Fiancé.”

“Fuck off.”

At this very opportune moment, Geralt happened to walk in the room. He was fresh from a relaxing bath, clad in his newly cleaned witcher gear — though now, he walked into quite the shit storm.

He shifted his golden eyes between you and Jaskier, a grunt of impatience settling on his lips. “What’s this about.”

You settled on responding with a harsh glare and a clenched jaw. Geralt’s presence dialed down your anger, mostly because you knew if you tried to lunge at Jaskier he would catch you in an instant. Still, the fumes seeped from your veins, bringing your blood to a near boil.

Jaskier cleared his throat. “I humbly asked Y/N to attend the banquet with me this evening.” You forced a laugh. Geralt slightly lifted his brows, waiting for Jaskier to finish his statement. He didn’t.

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier dramatically sighed. “I need Y/N to pose as my fiancé. Happy?”

“Not even close.”

Geralt’s arm shot out as if to hold you back from attacking the bard. “And what’s in it for you?”

“Well, the pleasure of a friend’s company, is all.” He feigned a tight-lipped smile, then faltered under Geralt’s stare. “And the chance to woo some of the maids there.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and removed himself from the conversation. He sent you a look of understanding, as much as he could, and gave you the space to attack Jaskier if you wanted to.

Instead, you squinted at the bard, mulling over his stupidity. “Do you really think these maids you’re after will fool around with you if you have a fiancé?”

“Oh-ho-ho. It’ll only encourage them.” You stifled a laugh, making Jaskier scoff. “You doubt my romancing abilities?”

“How could I doubt something that doesn’t exist.” The words slipped through your gritted teeth, making Jaskier frown. You let out a dry laugh, “You do realize I have more important things to do than pose as the poor sap who might marry you. Like, I don’t know, working my own job?”

It was true. On any other given day, you might’ve said yes to posing as Jaskier’s fiancé, just for the hell of it. It would be a great story to tell at parties — if you had time for them. But Jaskier knew very well that recently you had been working your ass off at the local tavern — you didn’t dream of being a server, but it made enough coin to hold you over and have enough to save up. And saving up was essential for you to start your very own tailoring shop. It pissed you off that Jaskier didn’t even think of this, didn’t think of you. He was being selfish, like Geralt often said he was.

You retied your apron behind your back and stared the bard down like maybe your glare could burn holes in his skin. “You may be able to convince Geralt to attend your events, but I will have no part in it.” Your voice had a finality to it that made you seem more confident than you felt, but still, you stomped towards the door, hoping to not see his face for the rest of the night.

“I will pay you.” His voice reached your ear just as your hand touched the door handle. The bard ended his sentence with a sing-song voice, making your skin crawl. You didn’t mind Jaskier’s singing — in fact, sometimes you enjoyed it (though you’d never tell him that). What bothered you was that he knew he had you wrapped around his calloused, lute-playing finger.

You turned around. “How much?”

Jaskier’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “I just knew you’d come around.”

“I haven’t come around to shit.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “How. Much.”

Jaskier pursed his lips. “Twenty crowns.”

“Psh.” You rolled your eyes with a snort. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am most definitely serious.”

You squinted your eyes at him and walked further into the room. “How much are you making?”

Jaskier clenched his teeth. “Seven hundred—“

“You are making seven hundred crowns and you were offering twenty?”

“You are playing a small part in the night—“

“Small part my arse—“

“Geralt was my bodyguard and didn’t get paid anything—“

“But Geralt wasn’t hanging off of your arm like a piece of meat.” You shifted in your spot and lifted your chin. “I want four hundred crowns."

Jaskier’s mouth dropped open. “Fo-four hundred? That’s more than half!”

“So you can do math.” You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes at him. “Three-fifty.”

Jaskier double-taked. Once he realized you were serious, he slammed his agape mouth closed and clenched his jaw. “One hundred.”

“Three-fifty.”

“One-fifty.”

“Three-fifty.”

“Fine!” Jaskier lifted his arms in surrender. “Two hundred. And—“ He held a hand out to stop you from complaining. “I will pay for your every alcoholic desire after the banquet.”

You quirked a brow. To be honest, you would have settled at a mere fifty crowns, but watching him sweat under pressure was too much fun. Plus, he’d be paying for your much-needed drinks after the shit-show that would undoubtedly be the banquet.

You gave Jaskier one firm nod and stuck out your hand. “Deal.”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Jaskier clenched a hand to his chest and breathed for air he didn’t know he needed. When he reached to take your hand, instead of settling on a firm shake, he began pulling you towards his dresser. “We are already running past schedule, come on.”

After that, everything seemed to move a mile a minute. Jaskier handed you your outfit and sent you off to wash up and get ready. Soon, you were freshly bathed and dressed and met Jaskier just outside the tavern.

He hesitated before helping you into the carriage sent by the royal family; you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You had never gone to an event like this or worn an outfit like the one you had on. Your nervousness grew in your stomach the closer you got to the castle and only worsened when Jaskier nudged you to exit the carriage.

It wasn’t like you were the only nervous one. Jaskier was tapping his fingers against anything and everything, almost as if he was practicing the songs he would play for the night. He was still tapping his fingers as the two of you were guided further into the castle by the guards. You let out a low sigh and took his nervously fidgeting hand in your own.

He leaned closer to you and whispered, “Way to play it up.” You rolled your eyes at his wink, but the feeling in your stomach didn’t disappear.

As you two walked into the banquet, Jaskier placed his arm around your waist. You were surprised by his forward action, but then again, you weren’t. He was a very touchy person — just not often towards you.

You awkwardly smiled at the guests who made eye contact, hoping you didn’t seem too out of place. Lucky for you, Jaskier seemed more out of place than you did. He didn’t seem to know anyone there, which made sense, because they were pretty much all from royalty. It made you feel a bit better, though you still cringed at the lack of interaction you two had.

You leaned into Jaskier to whisper. “Some crowd, huh?”

He chuckled. “Once they drink some, it’ll be more fun. Trust me.”

You decided to believe him.

On the way to the area of the banquet hall where Jaskier had to set up his instruments, a guest of the banquet walked past you two; he stopped after looking at Jaskier. “Excuse me, sir. Your doublet. Where did you get it?”

Jaskier perked up at the question. “Actually, my lovely fiancé made it.” He gestured to you with a proud smile.

You stuttered at the sudden attention but managed to curtsy.

“Excellent craftsmanship.”

Jaskier practically gushed. “Isn’t it?”

You gave Jaskier that doublet after his favorite was ruined on a trip with Geralt. In your nervousness during the arrival of the banquet, you hadn’t even realized that he wore it to such a prestigious event. Your stomach flipped with a different kind of feeling, but you ignored it as you helped Jaskier set everything up.

Throughout the night, you watched Jaskier perform for the guests. He was right; as soon as people started drinking, the mood of the room shifted and people were dancing in no time. You even had a few laughs yourself, especially when Jaskier would wink at you during certain songs. At one point your face hurt so much from smiling, and you were afraid you might need permanent surgery to put your face back to normal.

After the banquet had ended, the two of you decided to walk back to the tavern, as it wasn’t too far. Anyway, the night was perfect for a walk. You held your shoes in one hand and looked up at the sky, which was sprinkled with stars brighter than any other night.

Your eyes turned back to Jaskier, who was plucking strings on his lute. It was amazing that even after a whole night of performing, he still had the energy and desire to play some music. You supposed that was how you felt about certain things as well, but it was something you particularly noticed in the bard.

“It wasn’t that bad, the banquet.” You surprised him with your words, making him look up from the lute. His eyes were warm, his smile even warmer. You looked towards the road ahead. “Pretending to be your fiancé didn’t make me vomit like I thought it would.”

“But there was a slight gag, wasn’t there?” You smirked and caught the glint of playfulness in Jaskier’s eye just before he turned to get something from his pocket. “Almost forgot your payment.” He pulled out a pouch full of coin and held it out for your taking.

“Right. Thanks.” You frowned as he placed the pouch in your hand.“This feels like more than two hundred crowns."

“You need it more than I do.” You raised your brows at his statement, but he only laughed. “For your shop.”

Your eyebrows shot up even further. You were surprised he had listened when you gushed about your dreams one night a while back. It was crazy to think that just this evening you were cursing his name at the thought of him being selfish. Now, you shook your head with a smile, trying to urge the blush on your face to go away.

But that smile soon turned to a frown as a thought entered your mind. “You didn’t leave with anyone tonight.”

“I’m leaving with you, aren’t I?” In the darkness, he couldn’t see your growing blush. “Besides, there will be other banquets.”

You nodded, letting a long sigh escape your lips. It had been a long night, and your feet were killing you, but the tugging feeling in your gut made you clear your throat. You turned to Jaskier and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I believe you promised me a drink.”

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

The girl from the Prophecy - One

Geralt of Rivia x Mage!Reader

Story Summary: In the world of mages, Witchers and monsters there is a prophecy about a young sorceress, a heir of the one and only Jan Bekker. The one to subject the ‘Force’. The one to control all the Chaos. But it’s just a prophecy after all. An old one and well forgotten.

Chapter Summary: Living alone in the house in the middle of the forest was always quiet. Until Geralt of Rivia and his very loud bard-friend decide to stumble at the swamp near your house.

Story Warning: Possible spoilers from books and games! Swear words, angst, fluff, possible smut, Witcher-like violence.

A/N: So this idea has been in my head since I read the book (which was around 10 years ago), but because the Witcher community was almost non-existant I decided to never post it. But now that Netflix series came out, I can finally post this story. I am super excited. Because I read those book and played the games in Polish I do apologise if some wordings aren’t right (sorry, English isn’t my mother tongue)

I hope you all will enjoy this little story <3

You were used to being alone. You lived on your own since you were seven. The walls of your family house were the only thing that surrounded you all day. The walls, your bow you used to kill the animals in the forest and the teenage boy that always came here to pick up lotions for the people in the town. The villagers. You went to the town once after your father killed himself. It was a week after you buried him by yourself at the little lake he used to love so much. You were tired, hungry and sad. A kid left alone in this world. You did not understand why your dad hated you, why he left you alone. And so you didn’t understand why he always forbade you to go to the town. But you understood it quite quickly that day. 

The way they looked at you. Their whispers and hissed words directed at you. They hated you. They despised you and for some bizarre reason, they feared you. It did not matter to them that you had the money for food. No one wanted to talk to you. No one even cared to help you. They called you a WITCH. There were even some that believed you were the one who killed both your mother and father. You remember coming back home that day and cry yourself to sleep that night. 

But you decided not to give up on life and follow the steps of your father. You took the bow that belonged to your mother and taught yourself how to use it. While cleaning their bedroom you found some books and scrolls and spent your free time reading. 

Before your mother died she read you a lot. She taught you how to read. She told you stories about the world beyond the village and the forest you lived in. She used to tell you about a beautiful power you had inside of you and how she would help you to master it one day. She gave you a necklace one day and told you to never take it off. She even showed you basics of hunting. Until one day she got sick. You remember your dad sitting next to her bed all day and night until she gave away her last breath. Your mother was a strong, beautiful and kind woman. She knew what she wanted in life. She knew what she wanted for you and wasn't afraid to put the most bizarre dreams and adventure plans in your head. But she wasn’t able to fulfil any of the promises she gave you. 

Before she died your father was a nice man, who worked at the stable in the village. He loved horses and always told you stories of them, promising to take you there one day, to meet his friends, as he called them. Another unfulfilled promise. 

You remember this kind man who made you this awful porridge every time you were sick. You remember the man that loved your mom with all his heart. You remember him, even when he changed. After your mother’s death, he changed. The way he looked at you was similar to the way the villagers looked at you that day. He ignored you, only giving you food. He didn’t speak. He went to work very early in the morning and came back at night. 

A night before he killed himself he came back from the town completely drunk and dirty. He looked at you in the same way as he did since your mom died and spoke to you, the first and the last time since the love of his life died. 

“I tried to love you. When you were born and your mother told me you had the same powers she did, I knew she would be able to teach you and hide it from the villagers… But someone found out about her and you. Have you got any idea how hard it is for me to go to this damn place and hear about the Witch I live with? God! How I wish it was you who died and not her. I see you reading those damn books this woman left behind and all I want is to slit your throat in the middle of the night. But I can’t, you know why? Because you look just like her!” You remember the tears in your eyes and your little heart, breaking into million pieces because the only person you had in this world hated you. “You are nothing and will be nothing. The villages hate you because you are a Witch. I go to sleep every night afraid you will kill me in your sleep. But I’m done! I’m done with you and with all those idiots in the village. I can finally go and see your mother! I curse you! You will never be loved and you will die alone! ” You didn’t understand the meaning of his words until the morning when you find him at the kitchen table with a knife on the floor and a slit throat. You remember not screaming, unable to move. You stood there for what seemed like hours and looked at the dry blood on the kitchen floor. 

It has been 10 years since that day. And nothing changed. You were still living alone, away from the villagers. You did, however, try to learn from your mother’s books. You were able to use some of the magic you learned to help the animals in the forest that needed your help. You were happy to be able to heal them. You were a Witch, but at least you tried to use it for a good purpose. You avoided the village, getting your own food from the forest and water from the lake a mile away from the house you lived in. 

By accident, you met a boy, no older than 8, five years ago. He was swimming at the lake with his four years old sister. He didn’t seem to be afraid or disgusted by you. You gave him a pie you baked for yourself, and since that day he was your mediator. You were selling different kinds of ointments and creams thanks to him. He would take it from you and sell it, saying to everyone it’s from the village next to yours. No one questioned him how he got it. But were happy to buy them. You gave him food and 10% of what you earned and he never turned you on. 

You were used to the monsters in the forest. There were some from time to time. Normally some Drowners that were coming out from the lake. You read about all of the possible monsters and always had some silver with you. Your arrows had a bit of it in them. 

You knew the flow of the air and the energy in the sky when the monster appeared. But today, it was different. There was something else in the forest. No… someone else. 

Quickly, you took your bow with you, with that little dagger you always carried around, put your hood on and left your house to examine what was wrong. 

So many times you tried to fight the feeling of not caring what would happen to the villagers. But you couldn't. You quickly realised that you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if something happened to anyone while you could have done something. So you played the role of the saviour without no-one realising it. 

Your steps were cautious afraid to scare whatever, or whoever was there. Your bow ready for action. Possibly needed spells already memorized in your head. You didn't care if you died, but it did not mean you wanted to die. 

You stopped, hearing grunts and squicking of what you assumed were drowners. Your hand squished the bow and you took another step, holding when you noticed a huge man, with incredible white hair and a sword that in normal conditions would get your eyes to shine with curiosity. He was standing there alone, fighting all those monsters. And to your surprise, he was doing quite alright. You frowned noticing the black orbits. Witcher. 

You never saw one, but you read about them enough to know that this man in front of you should be able to handle himself. 

"I wouldn't come closer, my lady!" You turned, pointing your arrow between the eyes of the man that just came standing near you. You frowned seeing his colourful clothing. 

"Who are you?" You asked quietly, not lowering your weapon. Just because he didn't seem like hurting you didn't mean he wouldn't. 

"Julian Alfred Pankratz, but you can call me Jaskier my lady. A bard. One and only who shares the adventures of Geralt of Rivia!" Saying it he showed to the man who was fighting right now. "You must have heard of…"

"Why are you not helping him?" You lowered the bow and turned to the fighting man. It must have been your imagination but it seemed like he became slower. 

"Geralt of Rivia does not need my help", your hand moved a bit when the Witcher hissed with pain. The monster did not seem to lower in numbers and his energy did not seem to grow. 

You waited, trying to ignore the whispers from Jaskier near your ear. The man - Geralt - seemed to lose energy faster than you expected. He must have been hurt somewhere vital. You took a deep breath and secured the hood on your head. You could not sit and watch a man die on your watch. Not when you would be able to help him. 

Not thinking of the consequences, you mumbled the words of the spell and invisible barrier appeared around the man, at the same time he fell on the floor. The drawers turned towards you, the moment you threw them away with your magic. Raising your bow, you killed three of them and while the others approached you raised your hands in front of you and whispered. 

"Henenaa fireaoth kerelanth!" The bright light came out from your hands and the monsters in front of you dilacerated into pieces. 

"Fuck!" Jaskier shouted in disbelief when you stood there, breathing a bit faster than you liked. You closed your eyes when this weird voice in your head came back. It always happens when you used a stronger type of spells. "You are a mage! Fuck that was amazing!" Relaxing you turned towards the Witcher who was lying unconscious on the grass. Ignoring the bard you kneeled in front of the white-haired and checked his pulse. Alive. Good. You looked around and sighed. It was dangerous to heal him here in case the drowners would come back. 

"Sir Jaskier", he shut up hearing your formality. "Your friend seems like a heavy man. I live nearby, would you be kind enough to help me to bring him to my house. I should be able to help him there." The bard nodded and helped you to raided Geralt to his feet. He growled but didn't say anything. Apparently, he wasn't fully unconscious. You glanced at the drowners bodies and promised yourself to come back here and ran it up, after taking care of the Witcher. 

**

You found out pretty quickly that the bard was a talkative man, that had no boundaries. He spoke of Geralt, of the adventures, the beautiful women he came to see and wish to see more. Despite it being tiring, you enjoyed hearing him talk. When you're so used to leaving alone, the voice of another human is always pleasing. 

"I was able to heal his most vital wounds. When he wakes up, I'd like him to take a bath and clean the blood out, before I put him back to bed." You mumbled making Jaskier shut for a while. “The bandages should last till he wakes up but the wound on his thigh worries me…” You weren’t accustomed to a half-naked man in your bed, but the clothes he was wearing were sticking enough to his body due to the mud and water. “He seems to heal pretty well by himself, so probably I shouldn’t worry.”

“He lived through worse”, Jaskier joked, sitting in front of the fire that you kindled to help the Witcher sweat whatever possible toxin could travel through his body. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” You mumbled looking at the enormous amount of scars plastered on his body. You could only imagine the number of monsters he had to fight in his entire life. It saddens you to see that, but also, you could not help but think of the chunk of adventures he lived and feel a bit jealous. “Stay here for a while, please.” The bard looked up at you when you started to head to the doors. “If he wakes up, please make him drink what’s in the cup, there.” He nodded and you smiled a bit, thanked that he was willing to help. They may have a weird relationship, but this annoyingly talkative man truly cared about the Witcher. 

Taking your bow you came back to the river and collected what could be useful to make any potions. Drawners’ bodies were full of important ingredients and if they were already killed, you weren’t the one to pass on the occasion to pick it up. You took the man’s swords that he lost during the fight and was about to walk back home when you heard a shuffling in the forest. Your bow ready to attack, but you lowered it, when a horse came out, moving his head around, almost as if looking of its owner. A small smile appeared on your lips and you slowly started to walk to the animal. 

“Hey, beautiful!” You whispered, stroking its magnificent mane. “Do you belong to the Witcher?” It moved its head, pushing you a bit. You chuckled at its reaction, almost as it understood you. Well. Even if it did not belong to the men you left at your house, you wouldn’t say no to some company. After all, animals were always better for humans, at least to you. 

*

To your surprise, the Witcher did not wake up before you came back. What’s worse Jaskier has fallen asleep and he was snoring. Not annoyingly, but still. You were able to make your own bed for Geralt and some extra sleeping for Jaskier and even start preparing some food for the three of you when you heard voices in the next room. 

“She said you need to drink that”, you watched from the door how the bard tried to make his friend drink whatever medicine you left for him. “Y/N!” He finally exclaimed, noticing you. He stood up and walked to you, gesticulating with his hands. “I told him to drink it, but he’s as stubborn as…”

 “Who are you?” Your eyes landed on the Witcher, who was gazing at you, almost as you were an assassin sent to kill him.

“I’m Y/N.” You started, slowly walking towards him. “I live him and you, dear Witcher stumbled across some awful Drawners.” You smiled softly at him and took the cup that he put away just seconds ago. “I tried to make it drinkable, so please take it.” He stared at the liquid inside of the cup and with a growl, he drank it all in one go. 

“What am I doing here?” His tone a bit less offensive now as he was during the previous question. His low voice bringing you shivers, that ran through your whole spine. 

“We saved your life, Geralt!” Jaskier chimed it, apparently unhappy to be left behind. “Ok, fine, she saved your life.” You chuckled quietly when Geralt raised his brow. “I did help carry your heavy ass in here…” He grunted, crossing his arms at his chest. 

“You did indeed.” You answered, making him smile at you. “You were fighting Drowners, and as impressive as it was, you were outnumbered. You should think of a better companion next time.” The Witcher smirked and poor Jaskier gasped offended. “I was able to stop the bleeding and take care of your major wounds, but the one on the thigh is still making me worry.” You repeated what you said to the Bard not so long ago. Your eyes travelled down seeing how the blood managed to soak through the bandages. 

“You used magic…” You froze, hoping that he would not remember it. You already asked Jaskier not to tell anyone. “Two spells at the same time.” He looked you in the eyes and frowned. “You’re the Witch the village is talking about.” He noticed how the little happy sparkles disappeared from your eyes. Your shoulders collapsed a bit and you started to nervously play with the little necklace around your neck. 

“Is that why you were so near my house?” you asked. Your voice low and flat. “You got a job on me? Kill the awful Witch from the woods?” The gravelly sound of your voice made Geralt frown. Yes, he did hear stories from the villagers about the awful Witch that lives near the swamp. But none of those stories seemed to be real when he has an opportunity to see you in person. 

“What if I do?”

“Geralt!” Jaskier hissed, but one look from his friend and he piped down. 

“Tell me, Y/N, what if I did get a job to kill you?” He looked at you waiting for your answer. You didn’t look frightened, nor like someone who was about to kill him. not after you spent so much afford on keeping him alive. 

“Then I guess I wouldn’t stop you, Witcher…” His eyes widened just a bit at your open surrender. You looked up and smiled sadly at the man. “But there is something that tells me you don’t plan on ending my life just yet.” With that, you took a fresh bandage and started to walk to the last of your room. “I will get the bath ready. Some warm water should help with the herby medication I put on your wounds.” And with no words, you left the two men behind. 

“That was awful, Geralt!” Jaskier hissed at his friend, looking at the now-closed doors. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“She’s a mage. A good one.”

“Well, yeah! She helped you with the Drowners.” the bard rolled his eyes, still feeling sorry for you. 

“No girl with powers escapes Aretuza.” Jaskier frowned, remembering Yennefer mentioning something about it once or twice. “She’s too ordinary looking, which means she wasn’t taught there…” 

“So...She’s really a Witch?” The Geralt hummed and shook his head. That necklace you had. It interfaced with his necklace. There was something different with that necklace. Something mysterious about you as well. Something that Geralt for sure wants to find out. 

[crowleyellestair]

This feels like the smallest request ever but I have a mighty need for a Geralt (or Jaskier I'm not picky lol) x elf!reader. Maybe something angsty, she gets attacked or threatened and it gets to her more than usual. I dunno really, you're writing is absolutely amazing so I'm sure whatever you come up with will be perfect!

AN/// Sorry this took so long!! I have been swamped with work and life. As a college kid, you gotta make bank as much as possible. Here it is, angst, and I hope you enjoy <3 I hope it is perfect for you : ) I thank you from the bottom of my heart for those kind words : )

   The streets of Novigrad weren’t safe, but the two had decided to galivant through them anyways. It was late, though they thought themselves cautious by traveling through the main roads. Jaskier and Y/n had decided to go out, the She-elf needing to find an anniversary gift for her witcher.

Geralt had met her in his trip to Dol Blathanna, Y/n being his and the bard’s escort out once they had finished their first meeting with Filavandrel. It had been decades ago, the elf starting her travels with them once the witcher had made his way too close to Brokilon looking for work. Elves lead long lives, Geralt sharing a foot of that length with his own unnaturally long span. Elves find love within their own kind, as most others can’t match that time, or they are raised in racist or northern homes. The White Wolf had been dragged unconscious into her life, and sacrificed his neck to worm into her heart. She hadn’t been a Squirrel, but she was a fighter. She was an intermediate guard of the Silver Towers keeper, Filavandrel needing larger guard numbers despite his protests. Y/n had travelled to the forest on mission by the makeshift King to deliver a message to the Dryad Queen. She had recognized the emotion filled grunts, and now she was happy. Well, as happy as she could be in a world where people would spit on herself and her lover just because they exist.

A simple token was all she had wanted, now bigots had her and the bard pinned. Two men had taken each side of Jaskier, continuing their firm grip despite him trying to kick his legs out. He squirmed as much as he could, being a non-violent man putting him at a major disadvantage. Y/n was thrown into an alleyway, three men ducking in behind her. One had taken her satchel, Geralt’s gift and knife in there. One was laughably short for a human, but the other two seemed as though they frequented the fight clubs around the city. Luckily, she couldn’t see any gang indicator, but despite her training, she seemed at a disadvantage as well. The shorter man approached, the elf easily dispatching him.

She slid out of his charging path her hands ghosting the back of his head before placing pressure, and running his head into the wall with all of her strength. Jaskier cheered for her, seemingly just watching along with the two men that held him.

“You lot are messing with the wrong elf! Her ears aren’t the only things that are sharp!” Everyone in the alleyway seemed to stop and turn to look at the man, who rolled his eyes. “It’s not my best, I’ll admit. The point I was trying to show is that she is an amazing fighter, and one should be cautious when approaching.” His tone was smooth and eerie until his chopped end, when the man on his right twisted his arm back painfully to bend him, the only things in his field of vision being the dirt and his legs. The man leaned in, spitting as his voice dripped venom.

“Look a’ faerie here, traipsin’ with ‘e Elf! Lookin’ all high an’ mighty, tryina fit to their ‘higher standards of livin’.” His tone changed to mocking once he started to talk about the stereotype of elves finding themselves higher than man. While it is a true conspiracy, Y/n wasn’t one for superiority. Lives were lives, and she simply wanted to lead hers in peace. The two men on Y/n both started at the elf once more, and hands connected with forearms and faces. She was distracted for a moment when she heard the pained laugh of her good friend.

“Well, it’s certainly better than your company. Have you ever heard of this heavenly thing known as a bath?” The man to his left dropped his arm and kicked his legs out from under him, the other arm that was still being held behind his back stretching painfully as it was still held high. A tight groan left him, and her eyes snapped to him. Rage filled her as the two men started to kick at the bard. She saw red, running at the wall, using leverage to kick off and hit her assailants. It took a moment to take out both, but she soon found her way to the men beating her bard. Y/n quickly brought the first man’s head to her knee, his whole body going into shock as his nose went inward due to the force of the kneeing. The other made his way to her, though she ducked under his arms, kicking out his knee as he passed her. The elf quickly stood, bringing a forceful kick to his eye as he looked back. All the attackers laid on the ground groping one bleeding part or the other.

“Jaskier?! Jaskier, please, speak to me. Are you okay?” Pain and fear enveloped her as she kneeled next to him. Her hand went to brush his hair out of his face as he sat back on his feet. He panted and straightened out his jacket, giving her a tired wink.

“Of course. They got what they deserved and you, my feisty, elvish friend, were marvelous.” Y/n wanted to crack a smile, but guilt clawed at her. She knew how to deal with situations like this, easily making it out unscathed alone. Even with Geralt, things would be okay, knowing that there was light. Geralt was used to being under the microscope as well, but not Jaskier. While he has had a taste just like he had now, he didn’t deserve it. He was a ball of joy- a delight to be around. Simply through association, he was cast out by certain people of his own ilk. Y/n had simply wanted a second opinion on a gift, and in doing so, Jaskier twitched at every breath. It was certain he had bruised ribs, and she tried to help him up as slowly and as gently as possible. The elf grabbed his lute and their bags, throwing them over one shoulder as she threw his arm over her other, helping him back to the inn.

After she had gotten him settled in a hot bath and set up healing ointments, she let herself sit. Geralt had hovered, but didn’t make a sound. Jaskier had breathlessly retold the tale to him, making the elf out as more heroic than the situation had actually brought her to be. The air settled, though it was a tense aura this filled the space. Y/n plopped onto the bed, head in her hands as the witcher shifted in front of her. They sat that way for a couple of breaths before he bent down to one knee in front of her. Both of her hands dropped though one slowed to cover her mouth, her eyes closed.

“I am one thing, but they hurt Jaskier. Simply by walking with me they attacked him.” Geralt’s hand reached out, cupping the back of her knee, his thumb brushing circles over the cap. “I asked him to go. I should have known not to bring him in the open here.”

“You shouldn’t be tied to the inn, either.” His tone was soft, matching her whispers.

“I could have thought it through better! I could have brought cloaks or used glamour-.”

“You don’t need to hide anything.”

“Are you sure? Because not doing so got our friend hurt.” Geralt gave a sigh, matching her gaze when her eyes fluttered open. His other hand came up to her hair, brushing down until it landed at the back of her neck.

“People are cruel.” She simply raised a brow at his statement, but he leaned in. His eyes bore into hers, trying to get a point across. His tone was stern, yet light. “Jaskier is safe.”

“What about next time, Geralt?”

“I can’t tell the future. Though, I know he will be fine in the end. He always will be. We can’t get rid of him, but he knows the risks others bring to our lives. It’s not your fault most humans can’t live with us, and he isn’t going to leave because of them.” Y/n conceded, nodding at his words. She knew people would never stop hating her kind, Jaskier would never leave, and she would never not feel guilty despite being proud of who she is. Y/n would never not be proud, and she shouldn’t have to be painful. Most wouldn’t find the witcher’s words comforting, but she did. He understood completely, and his sympathy was real. She knew she wouldn’t have to go through this world alone this far north, having her lover and friend by her side. “We have each other, and we will protect the man.”

A small smile was shown to him, his statement affirming her thoughts. She wasn’t alone, Geralt always ready to be by her side, no matter what faced them. He brought her head down to his shoulder and help her tight, wishing her peace, and swearing to take down anyone that dared to take her smile away.

[mightiestheroes]

Thanks to the lovely anon for the request💙! I accidentaly deleted it but at least copied it before.

Sorry for any mistakes in advance. I hope it’s somehow what you wanted💙.

Hey! Can you please write a Jaskier x Fem!Reader story, where the reader is of ranking birth, and grew up with Jaskier/Julian, as childhood friends, but their paths divide when the reader come of age, their fates seemingly never to meet again, until they meet again years later, whilst Jaskier is with Geralt, and it turns out that they still have those old feelings that they all those years ago. Lots of angst with a romantic ending!! Thanks so much!!

Since you could remember, Jaskier was always by your side. Your families were strong allies and somehow most of the time you spent together. The boy that grew up with you was always talented, his parents paying for music lessons and learning to play any instrument and sing came quite easily to him. Your parents were also rich and with high status so you also learned to play some instruments, knitting but mostly dancing. You really enjoyed that. Your friendship was always innocent and pure,  when you were little kids, you used to run around the palaces chasing each other, you learned how to read and write together and you loved visiting the kitchens where you’d smile sweetly and charm the servants to give you some delicious treats. Your childhood was filled with laughter and happiness and that blue-eyed troublemaker. Then when you both turned into your teenage years it changed a little but you stayed close as always. You both were curious about the life outside your golden cages, him getting interested in girls and you observing boys but no one seemed to be interesting to you. If something was bothering any of you, the other would take care of it. That usually meant hiding in one of your beautiful gardens and Jaskier playing his lute and singing and you dancing and sometimes singing along. It always put smile to your faces and all the troubles went away. Sometimes you also practiced flirting with each other to gain some experience for the future while sneaking with some if your parent’s wine. But the older you got, the more you realised that the flirting wasn’t so innocent and careless. He was very important to you, probably the closest person who knew you even better than your parents. One night he told you about the rumours he’d heard about you two being set to marry each other to join your families. You blushed slightly at that but said nothing and so did he. But sometimes he mentioned being bored in those walls and how he dreamed about amazing adventures to sing about. You also felt trapped and useless, you wished you could do something more with your life. What you didn’t expect was that your wishes would come true so quickly. Jaskier’s parents enlisted him into Oxenfurt Academy. You were so happy for him, you were sure he’s capable of incredible things. But also you felt sick thinking about him leaving. You’ve spent your whole lives together and now you were going to be left alone. A few days later you found out your parents decided to send you off to another befriended family so you could learn there. Apparently there was a woman who was willing to teach you about herbs, potions, oil and medicines and maybe you could become a healer one day. That thought helped you a bit knowing that you could do something useful for people and not sit there heartbroken missing Jaskier. The feared day came faster than you wished. You walked close to the gate where Jaskier’s horse and supplies were waiting. You saw him talking to his parents, his mother tearing up a little bit before letting him go. Then he slowly came over to stand next to you and neither of you knew what to say. He looked at you with sorrow but you could also see his excitement – you knew him so well.

“For the first time in my life I don’t know what to say…” He started looking down because he couldn’t meet your sad eyes.

“Say you’ll remember me.” You replied hopefully and gave him a small brooch with your favourite blue stone as a reminder. He smiled sweetly at that and put his hands on your shoulders.

“I could never forget you, Y/N. You are the most important person in my life and I am sure we’ll meet soon.” He tilted his head to the side and kept staring at your face trying to burn it into his brain. “And I wish you all the best with your healer training. I’m already proud of you. But don’t anyone hurt you or they’ll face my wrath…” he tried to lighten the mood and judging by your soft laugh, he succeeded.

“I’m going to miss you so much…” you whispered tearing up and hugged him with all your force. He returned the gesture and caressed your hair with his hand.

“I’m already missing you too.” He admitted and leaned back to wipe your tear- stained cheeks with his thumbs. Jaskier watched your face for a bit longer and leaned in to kiss your forehead. He hoped you could understand his feelings without saying them outloud because he wanted to spare you both more hurt. Your eyes fluttered closed with that sensation and you tried so hard to remember this moment forever. Jaskier shifted and stepped back to get ready to hop on his horse.

“Julian, wait…” you exclaimed taking his hand and taking a small step to kiss him on the cheek. You could feel his smile and heated up skin and it made you smile too. “Goodbye, my dear. May we see each other in the nearest future.” He squeezed your hand one last time and let it go. You took a deep breath and watched him leave till you could no longer see him up the hill.

Days passed. Then days turned into weeks and weeks into months. You found yourself quite fond of the new place and your teacher. She was a quiet, nice woman but she could take a good care of herself as well. You learned from her anything that she was willing to teach. In your free time your roamed her gardens often thinking about the good old days and certain blue eyes. You wondered what he was up to, if he was safe, if he fell in love. It still brought a sting of pain to your heart but you knew that no woman could resist his charms. You had no luck in meeting any interesting men, not even when you went to town for supplies. After a few years you were completely ready to become a healer on your own. You felt proud of yourself and wished he could see you now. You decided to live closer to people who could need your help so you moved into a small cosy house by the lake. You made sure to have your own garden to plant vegetables, fruits and herbs. You loved it and it made you feel safe and content. People seemed to trust you rather quickly and came for your help without hesitation. You grew close to the community, getting to know everyone. Of course you noticed some men looking at you a certain way and they tried to flirt with you. And you usually flirted back. Especially when one day you heard a rumour that Jaskier left Oxenfurt with someone and he led quite colorful life charming the ladies. This brought back a lot of memories of your shared moments. But you knew it was stupid of you to be hung up on him and you should enjoy your life more. With that in mind you welcomed another patient – Erst, who struggled with terrible headaches. He was quite tall and build, he had gentle greyish eyes and a handsome smile. You’ve noticed the way he tried to flirt with you a few times and it really didn’t bother you at all.

“You know, there are big festivities in town tonight. You deserve to relax and I was hoping you’d go with me?” he asked when he was about to leave. You thought about it for a moment but smiled and agreed you’d meet him there. After he left, you prepared yourself a hot scented bath and wondered what to wear for the evening. You picked a long, flowy baby blue dress and brushed your hair letting it cascade down your shoulders. When you got to the town’s square you found yourself in a feerie of colors, sounds and smells. You’ve heard that a witcher and his bard may be visiting the festival so you were excited for an interesting and fun night.

“Hello, beautiful.” Someone said in your ear and you turned to see who it was a bit startled. There stood Erst with a small but beautiful flower in his hand. “May I?” he asked pointing to your head. You nodded and he leaned in to put the flower in your hair, behind you ear. You thanked him and he took your hand and put it on his arm to lead you further into the crowd. You had quite a good time with him, eating delicious treats, drinking wine, dancing. You stopped to talk to other women, whom you considered your friends and the giggled when Erst kissed your hand and walked away for a moment. After a while you decided to look for him, just in time as someone announced that the guest bard would be performing. You turned around the corner and saw Erst pinning some girl to a wall, kissing up her neck. Your mouth fell open but you made no sound just walked back to your friends telling them what happened. Just then you heard the bard start playing his lute and turned around to take a look at him only to be stopped in your tracks. There he was. Your friend, your partner in crime. He changed a bit, you had to admit that. But he looked even better now. His shoulder more squared, his features mature and masculine. But what hasn’t changed – that magnificent blue eyes that held so many emotions. The song he was playing was nice and catchy and people seemed naturally drawn to him. In the far corner you noticed a tall, muscular, handsome man with white hair and amber eyes and you assumed it must be the famous witcher. The song ended and crowd erupted into loud cheers. That’s when his eyes fell on yours. You didn’t know he could smile so big but his face filled with pure shock and happiness.

“Y/N, is that really you?!” he asked surprised coming closer. Instead of answering him, you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“Julian…” was all you could muster from your shocked brain. He was quick to put his arms around you too and picked you up a little to spin you around. A happy giggle left your lips and he could swear he wanted to hear that every day from now on.

“You look beautiful, how have you been?” he asked genuinely curious but before you could say something, you felt an arm around your shoulder. You turned to see Erst with a smug grin on his face and before you could react Jaskier beat you to it.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were with someone…” was all he said and quickly turned on his heel and returned to his spot for another song. He didn’t notice you shrugging of Erst’s hand and arguing with him about what you saw earlier. But it was the sound that caught his attention. A loud slap. He lifted his eyes just in time to see your raised hand and the man opposite you rubbing his cheek with anger in his eyes. Jaskier stopped singing and quickly apologised the crowd while getting closer to you.

“Is everything all right, Y/N?” he asked concerned.

“It is now, right?” you said that with a pointed look towards Erst. He huffed but turned around and quickly went away. Jaskier felt impressed by you and he thought to himself that it was probably one of the best things he has witnessed in his life.

“That’s my girl!” he smiled smugly at her. “But are you really all good?”

“I am, sorry, he was just a mistake.” You shrugged and smiled at him with sincerity.

“Will you sing with me?” he asked suddenly and you were taken aback.

“No way! You are so good and I haven’t been singing since you left…”

“Nonsense!” he took your hand and led you to his makeshift stage and started playing a familiar tune from your childhood. You smiled at him with tears in your eyes but joined him in singing. You also noticed almost all women and some men watching the bard with adoration and something you could only describe as lust. It made you realise that he could pick anyone and everyone to keep him company and that maybe you grew apart. You finished the song and bowed a little to the crowd’s loud cheers and Jaskier took your hand again and you started running off with a loud laugh. You felt like you were in your parent’s gardens again and it made you nostalgic.

“Oh I missed that!” he admitted when you finally found a quiet place to sit and talk.

“Me too! But what are you doing here? How have you been?” you asked him excitedly. And Jaskier began to tell you about his life and the time he met Geralt and started travelling with him and became his bard. You were so enchanted with his stories, you could listen to him for hours. You weren’t sure why but he suddenly stopped talking and looked at you so fondly, you felt your breath hitch.

“Gods, you are even more beautiful than I remember…” was all he said and leaned in to capture your lips with his. You were shocked at first but quickly kissed him back with the same passion. You pulled away after some time to catch your breath and you both laughed again with joy.

“I can’t believe it took me so many years to do that!” Jaskier admitted with faked annoyance and you laughed loudly. Your moment was interrupted when someone called out for him and you noticed the witcher coming by.

“I thought you did something stupid again and someone took you.” Geralt said with his stone expression.

“I would never!” Jaskier protested. “Geralt, meet Y/N!” he added and put his hand on the small of your back. Geralt nodded at you and you smiled.

“So you are the Y/N he wouldn’t shut up about, good to finally meet you.” The witcher said with a small amused smirk to tease his friend. Jaskier’s cheeks became as red as a tomato and you laughed again.

“Nice to meet you too, Geralt. Jaskier’s been talking about you too.”

The night passed so quickly on talking and bringing back all the best memories. Jaskier walked you to your house and you offered them both a place to stay. They happily agreed and Geralt was fast asleep in one of the rooms. You sat with Jaskier by the fire, both silent for a moment.

“You know, I never forgot about you as I promised…” the bard suddenly whispered.

“I’m happy to hear that. I thought about you every day.” You admitted and put your head on his shoulder. Jaskier wrapped his arm around you to bring you even closer. He kissed your forehead the same way he did when he was leaving and it brought tears to your eyes.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” he asked worried.

“I just… I’m so happy you are here. But I was thinking about you leaving again…”  Jaskier sighed and took your hand in his.

“It was one of the hardest things in my life to leave you. And if by some chance, you are willing to take me, I don’t want to leave your side ever again.” He smiled hopefully at you and awaited your response. But instead of using words, you grabbed his shirt and kissed him with so much emotion that he knew how you felt. His smile after that brightened up the whole room and looking into his eyes, you finally felt what it is to find peace, happiness, home.

[edgy-fluffball]

song for the winds || Geraskier

Some angst I word-vomited into @silence-of-the-night‘s inbox last night. You can also read this on ao3.

Geralt makes it to the coast, eventually. It's dreamy spot, this small fishing village perched at the edge of a cliff with heather and sea asters blooming in the sandy ground, dotting the landscape with purple and pale pink. There are nets hung up along the market place and he figures the first group of fishermen are already back from their morning fishing trip.

It's a summer afternoon and the salty breeze is a welcome cooling on his skin where it shows under his leathers. Roach trots into the shadow provided by narrow houses around the near empty place. A few kids play in the fountain at the centre of the square, splashing and laughing as if there is nothing wrong or evil in the world.

Geralt leaves Roach to drink from the trough in front of the inn, beginning to rub her dry.

One of the children eyes him, curiosity bright in her eyes. She can't be older than eleven years, scrawny and probably under-fed but happy and lively in this bright, peaceful place, nonetheless.

'Show me the bard's house,' he says when she edges closer to where he is patting Roach down, relieving her off the saddle for a moment, 'I'll give you a coin, if you make it quick.'

And she leads him, through the tiny village, past more fishing nets and a few boats that have been pulled onto land for repairs or because they are done for the day. He gets a further impression of the village as they move. Few adults are outside and the girl leads him straight out of the settlement and along the edge of the cliff. It is a beautiful place, colourful and tranquil but the sound of the waves surging against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff spoke of lively, wild waters and looming dangers not to be forgotten amidst the beauty.

Geralt allows himself to breathe in deeply, lets the salty, humid air fill his lungs along with the scent of thousands of flowers and trees. It smells warm and familiar, no matter that he has never been there before. He carries Roach's saddle over one shoulder and she enjoys the lifted weight by striding alongside him as they follow the small girl.

A house comes into view, a cottage, made of wooden planks, faded under the impact of sun and salt, with a stone wall surrounding it. Bushy shore pines cast shadows into the garden, birds sing in the cool green tree tops and butterflies and bees feast on the multitude of flowers growing everywhere. It is a spot that speaks of love and the caring hand of its inhabitant.

Geralt feels himself speed up, he lets go of Roach's reigns and she stops, begins to graze, and runs past the girl, through the wicket gate, along the overgrown path. He wants to call out, announce his presence, lace his words with an apology long overdue, with a promise he wanted to make long ago, a promise he has made to himself that he intends to keep.

No word leaves his throat. He stands in front of the door of the small cottage that looks like it should not be any different, and all he can do is stare, as the door opens.

He stares and then he wants to turn around, take the coin away from the girl and run, make Roach carry him away as fast as possible. Instead, he stares into the brown eyes and the soft face appearing in the doorframe.

She is slender enough to look like she makes her living out here, everything a product of her calloused hands and hard work. Her clothes are worn and no longer in fashion but they look like they once witnessed royal banquets somewhere south. She has bright eyes that carry wisdom and the experience of a few years, and a confused smile on her lips that is probably there because she has opened the door to find a witcher on her door step. Then, she sees the girl behind him and waves.

'You bring strange guests today,' she says and her voice is warm and soft and melodic, as if she's singing.

Geralt bows his head, almost sheepishly, overwhelmed with the situation.

'Forgive me, I must be at the wrong house, I was looking for the bard -'

'Oh, but I am here,' she lowers her hands from the doorframe, opening up a little to size him up with eager ambition, 'do you need someone wooed? Entertainment for a wedding? A commissioned song about your heroic deeds?'

Geralt tries to make sense of her words but fails. She looks at him expectantly and now he sees that her hair is held up by a tin whistle stuck through the bun in the back of her head, he sees the lute leaning against the wall behind the door.

He is at the bard's house, after all.

'Forgive me,' he manages with all manner and patience he can muster, 'I was told somebody else lived here, a famous bard, well-travelled, going by the name of Jaskier?'

Something in her eyes changes but it is fast gone and then she smiles woefully, 'Of course. A witcher looking for Master Jaskier. You must be Geralt of Rivia, then. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Priscilla.'

He hums in acknowledgement. The woman pulls the door shut as she steps outside and past him, 'I studied under Master Jaskier for many years after he came out here, he took me in after he found me in one of the towns close by, trying to earn money with my singing. He trained me, gave me a roof over my head for the longest time. Come with me, I will show you.'

And Geralt follows her, through the garden, around the corner of the house, out of the back, past a vegetable patch, over the fence into the thick heather growing here, past some haws and wild roses. The wind is stronger up here, close to the edge and it blows Geralt's hair into his face and makes his eyes burn for a moment.

Then, the moment passes and they stand a few feet from a soft mound where there is no more wind, just flowers and roses swaying in the wind. Priscilla takes a few more steps before turning around and standing aside, as if to make space for Geralt. Her eyes shine after walking in the strong wind.

'He wanted it to be here. Oftentimes, I would find him out here, no matter the time or weather, without a blanket, singing to the winds. That's what he said he was doing, he sang to the winds, willing them to carry the words and melodies out into the world, to his witcher. He loved this spot very much. One time, he told me to bring those here who sought him after everything.'

Geralt takes a first step, and maybe it wasn't the wind that made her eyes sparkle as wet and salty as the sea stomping and rolling far beneath them. He takes another step and Priscilla wipes at her eyes, discreetly and with a smile that makes him hurt more than getting his bones broken in a fight.

There is a small, earthen mound on top of a cliff, looking out over the sea and the world, surrounded by flowers and trees and stubborn plants that have no reason having roots strong enough to withstand the wind. Stubborn like him.

Geralt makes it to the coast, eventually. But he comes too late to see his bard.

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 4

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in the fantasy world you had no recollection of, your memory was jogged after weeks of depression: this land was Middle-Earth. A council of wizards and Elves was summoned, and Thranduil expressed his wishes of wanting you gone. Elrond agreed to take you in and Gandalf was excited to share in his adventures with someone who knew nothing of the world, quite like a Hobbit, but you wanted to stay in Mirkwood, with Legolas and Tauriel, of which you'd made friends with. Legolas leaves in three days to locate the orcs who enroach upon Mirkwood's northern flank, and the council sees this as a chance for you to prove your worth. If you fail, you are to leave Mirkwood...

Chapter No.: Chapter 4

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I want to thank all my readers for their feedback, likes, and reblogs! I'm only on Chapter 4 and all of you combined have made me feel really good about my writing. I've gotta admit, I was a little scared of going through with this multi-chapter fic at first, because while a few people really liked and enjoyed my stories on DeviantArt, they never got the reception The Art of Being an Eldar has. I just thought my writing sucked for the most part. Thank you all so much!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words. Rating: Teen (14+) for now

"You what?"

Apparently Leggy didn't comprehend the concept of being accompanied by a suddenly Elvish human from another dimension.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you repeated, "I said, I'm coming with you when you leave for your orc-hunting mission."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "And who gave you permission to do this?"

"The council, that's who. So suck it up buttercup, I'm coming with your sorry ass."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well. Tell me, aside from randomly swinging a sword, do you know anything about weaponry?"

You raised an eyebrow. Shit, you'd have to fight? "No, but I can say a mouthful of greetings in Elvish."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Nin ista, Sairen, but words are not mightier than fighting skill in battle."

You scoffed. "I can think of a pretty famous phrase from my world that totally contradicts that..."

Legolas shook his head as he sauntered past you, down the stairs of the bridge you'd found him on. The sounds of his bows and knife sheaths clanking together as he walked relaxed you. "Of course you do, mellon." He paused to look at you. "Are you not coming? We leave in three days. If you are intent on coming with me, surely you cannot believe I will let you go without even so much as learning the proper way to stab an opponent?"

You made a face, but followed him anyway. "I know how to stab."

"How, then?" He gestured to you pointedly and crossed his arms.

"Um..." You mimed the gesture you'd probably use while stabbing an orc in the guts. "Like... This? With a twist?"

"That may work if your enemy has the weak skin and flesh of a human, or even on an Elf," He pointed out, "But we are fighting orcs, Sairen. Their hide is as thick as that of a boar, and their flesh is equally so." With a flourish, he flipped out one of his long knives. He paused in handing it to you. "I am not letting you keep this, mellon. My mother gave them to me."

You froze in reaching for the weapon. "You have a mother?"

Legolas chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. "You thought I did not?"

You stiffened before hurriedly turning away. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?!"

Legolas laughed as he followed you. "Well, I do have one. She has been away on the other end of the palace-city. I should introduce you to her."

"Is she as fabulous as your dad?" You ran the tip of your index finger along your eyebrows. "And maybe even with the same super dark eyebrows?"

Legolas smiled. "No, no. She is perfectly beautiful."

"So you're saying your dad's not?"

"What?"

"Nothing." You waved a hand. "Where's the training grounds again?"

Legolas grinned evilly. "Well, your training begins now, Sairen. See if you can actually get to said training grounds without killing yourself on that blade."

Your jaw fell. "Are you fucking kidding me?! That's child's play! Don't you think I already know how to not do that?!"

"That is a double negative sentence, but no, I do not believe you already know this skill." Blue-Eyes shot you another grin. "Besides, we are not taking the average path to the training grounds. They are outside of the palace, after all. We will go out and around, on the hardest path imaginable. For a human, they would be entirely impassable."

You stared up at him dumbly. "Uh... Do... Do you even realize I spent the last nineteen years of my life around people with the mindset of shit water I might die because I'm a-- I was a-- human? Also, I was never agile. I won't be able to make it over a log, if it's big enough."

Blue-Eyes gave you a disapproving look. "Do the humans of your world never traverse nature?"

You pretended to think about that

"Hm... Let me see... Uhm... Yeah, nope, pretty much never, unless you're one of those super outdoorsey kinds of people, and the true ones of those are rare. For instance, most usually wear really tight clothes and walk through parks with stone paths and everything primped to perfect condition so that nobody even gets grazed by a dandelion, and everything's sprayed to keep the bugs away and animals are limited to squirrels and bunnies, then they wanna act like they just walked the fuckin' Sahara Desert without water. Real outdoor people are rare. Steve Irwin? Real. Bear Grylls? Real. Josh Gates? Real. Hell, when I was a very tiny little girl I used to watch a kid's show with two brothers who pretty much lived in the jungle. But out of everybody, those are the ones I can think of right off the top of my head. Them, and the few tribal races still out there."

Blue-Eyes made a surprised face. "Well... I am glad you got a chance to experience what real life is like."

"Thank you, Blue-Eyes." You'd reached the front gates of the palace, which were opened by a couple of those ninja Elf guys. You and Legolas walked on through, and into the forest, with its pink and amber leaves, down here, nullified into black and gray, piling up in the muck of the forest floor.

You'd been surprised when you'd seen this part of Mirkwood. Apparently, only the northern half was unaffected, but the rest of the once-spectacular Greenwood the Great was now victim to a strange plague, orc attacks from the north, and giant spider infestations from the south, from an ancient ruin called Dol Goldur. Animals no longer lived here, the rivers had mostly gone thick with filth, and the trees rotted and groaned in agony. The forest would confuse you, threaten to swallow you up and make you lose your way...

If you weren't an Elf.

Luckily for you and ol' Leggy, the two of you were Elves, and he had been raised here. If you stuck close to him, you'd be fine, even if the forest did manage to confuse you. He could hardly remember a time when the slow-acting plague hadn't been part of some region of the forest, and Tauriel had told you that he was 2, 371 years old. That was a long time for a forest to be sick.

"What even caused Mirkwood to get sick? Do you even know?"

"It is a nameless malice," Blue-Eyes replied, stopping all show-offy on a thick, low-hanging bough that precariously hung over a small gorge. "The darkness stems from Dol Goldur. Now, there are rumors; rumors of a necromancer, who resides in the ruins of that ancient fort."

"Necromancer?" That hardly sounded good. In anything where it was used, necromancer usually meant one who raises dead. "That doesn't sound good. Have you investigated it?"

"Of course not," Blue-Eyes gave you an odd look, like you'd just suggested he drink out of the toilet or something. You struggled to get up the side of a log he'd just casually hopped onto. "Why should we? They are merely rumors, and the forest has been sick for a long, long while. Still... This darkness unsettles me, as it does to all Sindar whom reside here."

"Dude, then maybe you should check the fuckin ruins," You mumbled, but he ignored you and continued hopping around from flowertop to flowertop. You just trampled noisily and clumsily along behind him. "Don't you guys like, live for light? So shouldn't you see if the ruins really do have a necromancer now? Especially since this dark ooze comes from it?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head. "King Thranduil does not wish for time to be wasted on rumors when we have other matters to deal with."

"Oh, so you mean he's too busy having everybody vote on which crown of berries goes best with his eyebrows."

"What?"

"Nothing. You Elves are just stupid."

Legolas grinned. "Well, humans are equally intellectually challenged."

You paused in chasing after him, stunned. He turned to face you when he didn’t hear you following. "Did you seriously just do that?"

"Do what?"

"You literally just used big words to sound smart." You laughed theatrically. "Oh! Pardon me, fine companion, I meant to implicate that you utilize gargantuan idioms to fabricate intelligence."

He smiled slightly as you finally made it up beside him. "I suppose you are not so daft," He relented teasingly, "Otherwise you would not even have those words in your vocabulary."

You made a face and rolled your eyes. "Whatever, blondie."

The training grounds were closer than you remembered, even taking the roundabout route. Along the way, though, you'd fallen into a bog, got your face scratched up by evil tree branches, and tumbled head-over-heels down a steep ravine, getting battered and bruised all over your body.

Apparently Middle-Earth-- Mirkwood specifically-- was prone to give previously non-Elvish members of other worlds injuries.

You made quite a show; barreling through a thorn bush and landing flat on your face right on the edge of the training grounds. You heard all the Elves turn their weapons on you, in case you were an orc, but then they seen your sorry ass, and Leggy casually coming down the steep ridge as if it was just a flight of stairs.

"Mae govannen," Said Legolas cheerfully to the Elves. Casually, he picked up his knife, which you'd thrown away from you halfway down so you didn't impale yourself at any point during the fall. Still, it'd skittered down alongside you. "Sairen, it seems you've failed this test."

"I dropped it on the goddamn border..."

"Nevertheless," Blue-Eyes ignored your response. "We are here now, and forfeiting other forms of training for the sake of redoing one failed task is pointless. You will learn as much as you can here, until I say we stop."

You finally moved, trying to at least sit up on your elbows. "It's only noon. We've got till nightfall, yeah? I can do that. No problem."

Legolas grinned down at you. "Mellon, you are of the Eldar now. You are stronger than before and do not need sleep unless you wish to dream."

"I don't what?!"

"Elves do not sleep unless we have been injured and need to heal," He replied, and grabbed you by the underarms to help you up. "We are stronger and more resilient than the race of Men. You are no longer imprisoned by the necessities of the human body."

Instant headrush slammed into you. "Apparently not all human body shit..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you speak of?"

"Headrush, dammit."

"Oh," He grew amused. "Do you mean the Blackness? Unfortunately, that befalls us all."

You glared daggers at him.

Another Elf approached, with a slender face and long brown hair. "My lord, most of the training grounds are taken up. You may yet have mine, if you wish so."

Legolas smiled. "Ah, my thanks. [Y/N], this is one of the Elves that accompanied Lord Elrond here, Lindir."

You extended your hand. "Nice to meet you."

Both Blue-Eyes and Lindir looked at your hand in confusion. Lindir, with a glance to Legolas, slowly tried to hand you his bow. With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head, you realized they didn't even understand what a handshake was. "No no no, sorry; that's called a handshake. It's what two people do when they meet each other where I come from. I didn't mean to confuse you. SO." You bowed in the Elvish way. "Mae govannen, Lindir of House Elrond."

Lindir and Blue-Eyes smiled. Lindir returned your bow. "Mae govannen, [Y/N] of House Thranduil."

"Lindir will be accompanying us to trace the orcs, and Erestor of Rivendell," Said Legolas, "As will another of our own house, Elros; I believe you have met him already. He was the Elf who lead you to the councilroom. From Lothlorien is a friend of mine, Haldir, and of course, with the other Elven Lords aiding us, Mithrandir feels he should send his own aid as well..."

Lindir's eyes widened. "Do not tell me..."

Blue-Eyes nodded seriously. "He is sending Naughrim to accompany us."

"Naughrim?" You asked. Of all names, that didn't sound familiar. "Who's that? Somebody not well-liked among Elves?"

Blue-Eyes fought a smile. Lindir answered you. "Mellon, Naughrim is our tongue for dwarves."

Your mouth formed an 'o' in recognition. "Ohhhh, now I get it. Elves and dwarves hate each other for no explainable reason. Got it. Who's he sending?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head in exasperation. "They are all of Erebor. Balin and Dwalin, two are named, and of the other, he is the most insufferable of dwarves; Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. Mithrandir believes that this will be a good experience for him as it is for us, but he refuses to come himself. He's all but forcing the situation."

You looked from Blue-Eyes to Lindir and back. "How can he force you? Dwarves and Elves are both stubborn beyond all reason, and none of you seem to take him seriously."

Legolas shook his head and pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, Dwalin is as good a tracker as any, and Ada  is not permitting many of the Sindar on this journey for the reason that we are merely meant to find where the yrch dwell, and go no further. We will need all the aide we can find, even if it is in the form of unwilling dwarves. As for them, he has promised treasure, the details of which I know not; I can only hope it is not any of ours he has promised them." He smiled at you. "Shall we?"

Before you could follow, he walked off; you glanced to Lindir questioningly. "...Ada? Who's that?"

Lindir smiled softly. "It means father. He is referring to King Thranduil."

"Oh. Now I feel stupid."

"Do not, mellon, for the language of the Elves is not easily learned unless you were born speaking the tongue."

With a roll of your shoulders, which ached, you followed Leggy.

***

"Ow, goddamn it, and goddamn you, you stupidly perfect Elf."

At the end of the day, you'd been cut, pricked, whipped by a bowstring, nicked, dinged, and all kinds of other small injuries that added up to one big mess of drying blood and bruises.

Blue-Eyes had had you train deep into the night, until the silvery waning moon had all but left the star-filled sky. Now, as the sunrise approached, you both sat on two convenient boulders, and he bandaged your bloodied hands. In the eerie half-dawn light, he looked ethereal, and his pale hands and silver tunic sleeves compared to your now dark-with-blood-and-mud-and-bruises hands and black sleeves was a huge contrast. Your hands shook slightly, aching and stinging and pained on various sorts of levels, while his were perfectly steady as he wrapped them in soft green leaves.

"Stop shaking, mellon," Legolas told you gently.

"What was that?" Your head snapped up. "Are you feeling sorry for me? Don't feel sorry for me! This is nothing! I've been shot in the calf by an orcish arr--OW!"

The leaves had drawn too tight and released some kind of juice that stung like hell. His hands hovered over yours. "My apologies, but it draws out the infection."

"What infection?!"

"You are not yet used to your Elven body yet," Blue-Eyes replied, looking into your eyes. "Since you are the equivalent of a newborn, I would say you are very susceptible to infections, sickness, and injuries."

You looked off dramatically into the distance. "That explains why I can't stop fucking getting hurt..."

"That it does," He smiled at you, and something pulsed in your chest. Da fuck... You fought a flush. He stood, then held out his hand to you. "Shall we return to the palace? You may rest until sunhigh, and then we will continue your training." You took his hand, and he helped you up; you stumbled into his chest, and backed up quickly. He took no notice, but patted your shoulder before going to retrieve his bow and quiver. "You did well today, Sairen, even if you frightened off half of the other Sindar and Silvan training here."

You made a face. "Pfft. They just can't handle my awesomeness."

"If you say so, mellon," He said, and started to take the easy way back, to your relief. You followed closely behind him.

You looked up at the stars as you walked in silence for awhile, until finally, you broke it. Of course, you broke anything, really... "Where I come from, they say there's a star for every soul that's passed away."

Legolas glanced to you, then followed your gaze wistfully. "That is something our two worlds have in common."

"Scientifically," You added, "They're spheres of hot air and gaseous materials wound up tight by gravity that glow and put off heat, but the idea always felt nice to me... But where I come from... You also can't see the stars."

Blue-Eyes halted in his tracks as if you'd just said someone murdered his mother. "I... What? You can't see the stars?!" He actually looked genuinely horrified by that idea.

You shook your head. "No. Humans... They've polluted the atmosphere too much. Filled it with trash, and man-made lights and even remnants of smoke... You can't see them."

He watched you even as you watched the stars. "I've never seen them like this... They're beautiful." You could see bands of galaxies and clouds of distant nebulae, and the small silver fires glittered in the billions, even as the pink-orange glow of the beginning of dawn was starting to show in the east. You were in awe.

You jumped when Legolas took your hand. "What?"

He smiled at you. "Come with me. I will show you one of the best stargazing places in all of Mirkwood."

"Thranduil's pavilion?"

"Better."

"Whoa. Dude, count me in."

He lead you off of the trail, deep into the woods, through the easiest ways that probably were a pain for him, but he did it anyway. Finally, you stopped at the base of a massive tree, stretching so far up you couldn't see its top. Its trunk was pockmarked with holes and vines, and after slinging his bow onto his back, he threw you a smile over his smile. "Come, Sairen."

You couldn't help but smile back. You climbed, quickly, all the way up, past the canopy, into the uppermost branches of the tree, where the copper-gold leaves thinned out to allow for one thick branch to get a view of the night sky. The branch was thick enough across to allow for two or three people to sit side-by-side against the trunk, and Blue-Eyes sat quickly as he helped you up.

Here, no branches obscured any part of your field of view. You got a perfect view of the sunrise, and the starry sky. "Holy shit..."

You felt him put an arm around you, and you stiffened, just before he breathed in your ear, "I will not let you fall from this tree, Sairen. You've only just arrived in this world, and should another portal be below that is activated by a beautiful sunrise, I am loathe to let you go, for there is so much I want to show you..." The sun burst over the distant mountains beyond Erebor, sending fiery orange and red across the sky. "Such as this. Your world does not sound as if it could have any sunrise as wonderful as this one."

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as you watched the sunrise, jaw slack. "No... Not like this."

Legolas smiled, and finally turned his focus to it himself. Your eyes slowly dragged off of the beautiful scenery to look at the Elf beside you, and the warm feeling worsened; your heart started fluttering. Eldar only fall in love once... Galadriel had warned you.

...Shit.

A blush crawled up your face, and you tried your hardest to focus on the sky rather than the Elvish princeling pressed close against your side.

***

"Mae govannen, [Y/N] of the Woodland Realm," Greeted Lindir kindly as you approached the group of Elves gathering in front of the front gates.

"Mae govannen, Lindir of Rivendell," You replied with a smile. The Elvish greetings rolled off your tongue easily now. After the sunrise you and Blue-Eyes had watched together, you'd spent the last two days training at obscene hours and resting. Now, finally, the group of Elves leaving to track the orcs were gathering-- there were only about fifty in total, of which there were those wearing Woodland garments, the red-and-gold of Lothlorien, and the greens, purples, and browns of Rivendell. Apparently Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond didn't agree with Thranduil sending what would've only been a dozen to track some very dangerous orcs.

You heard several of them muttering to each other about Naughrim, something all of them had in common.

You swung your light traveling pack off of your shoulders and by your feet, scanning the crowd for a certain platinum-blonde head-- unfortunately, most of the Elves from Lothlorien had blonde hair. You looked at Lindir. "Where's Legolas?"

Lindir glanced around. "He is on his way, I am sure. After all, it is he and Haldir whom are leading this journey."

You nodded. "I've never packed for something like this before... I hope I didn't pack anything weird or forget something."

Lindir looked confused, then recognition flashed across his face. "Oh. Forgive me, I had forgotten you do not have this experience. Tell me, what did you pack?"

You shifted your weight nervously, and lowered your voice. "Uhh... Two extra pairs of clothes in case these get ruined, some extra food, even though I've noticed I don't have to eat as much as before, and some water. Then there's these," You gestured to your back, where a quiver and longbow hung from your back. You felt its weight all too strongly, and that of the sword on your hip and the knives on your thighs. "And some of those special leaves that're used for bandages."

Lindir smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Mellon, you have packed what we all have, and lightly, as well."

You smiled. "Thanks. Just consider yourself lucky that I don't know how to read Elvish, or I would've packed a book or two to keep me company."

Lindir chuckled and stepped back. "Well, for now, I am glad of it. On this journey you will learn much, hopefully, and by the time we return, you may be able to speak more of Elvish. It is harder to learn to read it, I have heard, much harder."

You ran a finger over your chin in thought. "I wonder if Thranduil would let me go to Dale or Laketown to get some books in English..."

"Forgive me," Lindir looked confused. "I do not know what that is."

You realized what you'd said a second too late. "Oh! Sorry. Where I come from, Common is just referred to as English."

"Oh, I see now. I am sure he would, and if he does not yet, then perhaps one of the Woodland Elves could bring some back for you. What of Legolas? Are you not friends?"

You blushed. "Yeah, I hope so. I've never been very good at making friends, though. Nobody's ever really liked me." You realized Lindir was staring at you with an absolutely terrified expression. Your own eyes widened in alarm, and you frantically patted your face. "What?! Is there something on my face?!"

Lindir shook his head. "I-I am not sure. Your skin has suddenly gone red, as if burned. Are you ill?"

"Uhhh..."

You were spared the embarrassment of explaining blushing by all the Elves gathered suddenly gasping and bowing in the direction of the stairs. Lindir saw the cause before you did, and his jaw fell. "By all the Valar..." He bowed deeply, and you followed his motion, but not before catching a glimpse of who it was. Thranduil, of course, and Legolas, following a she-Elf in a tunic that looked as if it were made of starlight itself, with flowing white hair and alabaster skin.

"Ui!" Shouted Thranduil irritably. "Ni telima lume, autauva!"

You leaned closer to Lindir. "What did he say?"

"He is forbidding her to join us," He answered quickly.

The she-Elf whipped around, generating a power almost as strong as Galadriel's. Legolas stepped forward. "Amal... Mecin."

She shook her head. "Yon, venno, nin carindo ier nin indo. Alye uva pusta ni."

"What did she say about pasta?" You whispered.

"Sh!" Lindir said quickly.

The woman looked at Thranduil and Legolas lovingly, before approaching Thranduil and placing both hands on his face. Thranduil closed his eyes in regret, and the woman kissed him; you looked away, embarrassed. That was the Elvenqueen.

That was Legolas's mother.

"Melinyel, Thranduil, alye ista si."

Thranduil sighed. "Melinyel, mela... Mecin ea girthonwed."

With that, Legolas reluctantly took his mother's hand and lead her down the stairs. They disappeared in the crowd, until you heard the Elvenqueen's voice. "Rise, all of you." Unsure, the Elves rose one-by-one. "Which of you hail from far places, whom rescued my son Legolas Greenleaf from the fate of an early death?"

The Eldar glanced to one another, realized it wasn't their neighbor, and slowly, like somebody who'd gotten called out in class, you were being stared at, and a path was made between you and her majesty, while Legolas stood beside her.

You swallowed hard, suddenly terrified. Lindir patted your shoulder. "You have been summoned, mellon. Go, I will make sure your pack does not get swapped with someone else's."

You tried to look and walk confidently, but you were terrified. She was beautiful and indimidating, and you had to admit, you were definitely intimidated. When you reached her, you bowed as deeply and respectfully as you could, a fist over your heart. "Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, your majesty." You didn't know what else to say. What you'd said to Galadriel and Celeborn was the most respectful thing you knew in Elvish, and you'd never been in the presence of royalty.

"You come from another world," She looked down at you indifferently, and you suddenly felt very small and very weak with everybody's eyes on you. This was nothing like Thranduil's fabulously indifferent look. "Yet still, you saved my son's life. After, you make the presumption that you can live and walk among us as one of us, freely, unburdened, merely because you came here by happenstance and you were allowed the reward of living. Do you feel as if this is the correct course of action for you to take?"

You glanced to Legolas, absolutely horrified. "Y-your majesty..." Your hot-headed tongue, a lot more toned down, popped into existence. "I saved your son's life because he didn't deserve to die. I was given the freedom to live, and to repay that, I mean to make the most of my time here by helping in whatever ways that I can. King Thranduil has given me the chance to prove myself worthy of living here by allowing me to join in hunting for the orcs. If I fail, I will leave Mirkwood, and go with Lord Elrond to Rivendell."

Legolas's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, before going back to their normal selves; he looked to you with almost a sadness, but you couldn't figure out why. Elvenqueen smiled, as if proud. "Then you are not what the rumours of your world have made you out to be. You are humble and grateful, qualities I did not expect from one of this Earth. You possess a unique personality, [Y/N]. Tell me, who are your parents, so that I may refer to you properly?"

"I have no father," You said quickly, relieved that she was just trying to scare you. "None I care to speak about. But I do have a mother, who I love very much. Her name is [M/N]."

Elvenqueen smiled. "Very well, [Y/N], child of [M/N]. Here, we, all of us, have a secondary name, such as my son; Legolas Greenleaf. During this journey, you may earn your own."

You smiled back, relieved beyond relief that she'd decided not to kick your ass for existing. "My thanks, your majesty."

She sailed away regally, and Legolas shot you a glare. "Why did you not tell me you would be leaving us?" He demanded.

You balked. "I-I said if I failed..."

"And you are most likely to do so," He snapped, sending your heart and soul plummeting to roughly the center of Middle-Earth. Without another word, he followed his mother.

"Mellon?" Said Lindir from behind. You turned around; He held his bag and yours, which you gratefully took from him.

"Thanks," You said, but your eyes followed Legolas's back as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," You shrugged. You were used to being abandoned.

Lindir looked doubtful. "Very well, if you say so. May I introduce you to those you will be most judged by?"

"Sure."

He took you through the crowd, to the guy who helped you find the councilroom. "Ah, [Y/N]. Mae govannen."

You bowed your head and returned the greeting to Elros in a monotone voice. "So your name is Elros?"

"Yes," He replied. "Son of Elrond."

If you were taking a drink of water, you'd've spewed it everywhere. "Huh? But isn't Rivdendell like, waaay over the Misty Mountains?"

Elros chuckled. "Yes, but those of the Eldar cannot always remain in one place. We yearn for far places, and even farther shores. Long years I have spent in the halls of my father, but I left for Mirkwood when my sister, Arwen Evenstar, left for Lothlorien, to spend a time with our mother's mother, Galadriel."

Your eyes were wide. "Galadriel is a grandma?! Your grandma?!"

Lindir and Elros looked at each other in amusement. "Elves," Said Lindir, "Live forever, so long as we are not killed by injury, or the wounds of the heart."

"Wounds of the heart?" You echoed.

"When love remains unrequited, it is sometimes too much to bear," Replied Elros, "And the victim suffers long before dying of a broken heart. Oftentimes, it is when a wife perishes during childbirth, or when war or battle takes the life of a beloved, and their souls pass into the Halls of Mandos. I still worry for my father, even though my mother has long since passed due to child-sickness."

Your eyes widened. "I'm so sorry."

Elros raised a hand. "She is at peace now. She resides in the halls where her mother lives, and many of my kin who have long since passed on."

"Is Elrond gonna be okay?" Now you were worried. You didn't even know the guy (Even though you probably knew him before your amnesia.) but you didn't want him to die of heartbreak. He was being nice to you, and offering you a place to live if Thranduil decided to be more of an ass.

"He is strong," Lindir assured you, and partially Elros. "He is stout of heart and fierce of soul. He will live long yet, that I can assure you with the utmost certainty."

Together, Lindir and Elros took you to where another dark-haired Elf in the Rivendell attire spoke with a Lothlorien Elf in red-and-gold armor. White hair was braided away from his stern face. Elros said something in Elvish, getting their attention, and they both bowed to you. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], may I introduce you to Erestor, Chief Counselman of Elrond, and Haldir of Lothlorien."

"Mae govannen," They both said.

Haldir regarded you warily. "I have heard you come from far lands, one beyond even Arda."

You tried not to look stupid. "Arda?"

"This world upon which we live," Haldir clarified.

"Oh!" Now you knew what they were talking about. "You mean this whole planet? Mine never had a cool name; Earth, that's it, with a bunch of different countries on it. Are there countries besides Middle-Earth here?"

Erestor chuckled. "Yes. There is Beleriand, just the remains of it, to the farthest west. Also in the west lie the Gray Havens, and across the Sea are the Undying Lands of Aman, far from Endor-- that is to say, collectively, Middle-Earth and Beleriand."

"Oh, cool! Where I come from, nowhere has cool names anymore, except for maybe Dubai, Greece, and Rome. In the past, there were hardly ever cool places, except for Egypt and Babylon."

The four Elves around you glanced to each other in amusement, as if you were a child just learning new things; and you pretty much were...

"Haldir," Said a familiar voice, and you perked up as Blue-Eyes stepped through the crowd. Your heart sank as he completely avoided your gaze. Damn, you should be used to this kinda shit by now. One small thing and someone abandons you. "We go to meet the dwarves. You have told your party, yes?"

"Of course, mellon."

"As have I," Added Erestor as Blue-Eyes went to ask. "None of us may like this, but it the word of a Maiar, of which the Noldor still yet revere. Worry not, Legolas."

Blue-Eyes nodded, glanced to you, and walked back through the suddenly-departing crowd as the doors opened. You hefted up your bag further onto your shoulder. "Mmkay, Lindir?" You fell into step with the purple-clad Elf.

"What is it?"

"Questions. Lots of them. What the hell is a Mayan and a No-door?"

Lindir chuckled. "Maiar, and Noldor. The Noldor are the oldest of the Elves. The Maiar are wizards, servants of the Valar; such as Saruman, Mithrandir, and Radagast."

"They met gods?"

"Yes," Said Lindir doubtfully, eyeing you. "Do the people of your world not know of their gods?"

You scoffed dryly. "You kidding me? Almost everybody believes in some bearded guy in white floating through existence and pointing to a random spot, then saying 'Let there be light!' Bam, universe created. Others have much more gruesome stories; like in Norse, Odin and his two brothers cut up a giant to create the world. Then there was Egyptian, where two godly people representing the earth and sky consummated and BAM, universe created again. They all say the gods came from the sky, which others believe to be aliens-- people from other planets entirely-- but I've always been an atheist."

"And what does that mean?"

"That I don't believe a goddamn word of any of that 'god' shit."

"You should not speak of them so, for they hear all."

"Yuck. Let's hope they don't find somebody on their wedding night."

Lindir's eyes bugged out of his head. "That was... Sudden."

You grinned. "I'm like that. Get used to it, Lindy."

He frowned. "My name is Lindir."

"I know that," You laughed. "It's a nickname. It's a sign of friendship."

Lindir smiled. "Oh. Then we are friends, then?"

"Sure! I've never been friends with so many people before!" You looked ahead excitedly, waving when you seen Legolas glaring at you. So what if he was pissed? You'd make him un-pissed.

Lindir gave you a sad look. "But you have only befriended Legolas and myself."

"And Tauriel."

"Still, that is only three people." He looked genuinely confused. "Do the people of your world not believe in friendship either?"

You sighed. "Not really. They're more interested in betrayal. Me, personally, I've had it all. Betrayal, death, abandonment... I've gone through some shitty times, that's for sure. One catastrophe after the next. One painful step at a time through it. I've been through hell and back, been shattered like glass and looked death in the eye, and somehow, I'm still standing. Sometimes it feels like I've lived a thousand lifetimes in only nineteen years." You gave him a sideways smile before looking back ahead of you, trying to block all of the flashbacks...

Lindir regarded you with newfound admiration. "I can... See it, in your eyes. I believe all of us can. The things that you have endured are marked on your stride, and not many could recover from what you have recently gone through so quickly. A human with your strength is... Unheard of."

You laughed. "Yeah, 'cause now I'm an Elf!"

Lindir laughed too then, as did a few other Elves and she-Elves near to you-- as you walked out of the doors of Mirkwood's palace, you got this strange, tingly sensation in your core... The odd feeling of people laughing with you, not at you. The feeling of not being judged. Of people realizing you've been through hell. Of people not automatically striking you onto their enemy list because you're different.

As you moved into the north, the light filtering through the leaves was golden, and everything seemed at once surreal and ethereal. But aside from those two feelings, you felt one stronger than any other. You smiled as you looked around at your new friends in this new world, which still felt so familiar. You were happier than you'd ever been. Even though you'd miss your family, you were glad the portal had been closed.

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

You passed Blue-Eyes, who'd climbed a tree to scout, and when he seen your awestruck, childlike expression, even he, who was currently pissed at you, couldn't help but smile at down at you. You smiled back. That warm feeling returned.

Finally, I'm where I belong.

I'm...

I’m...home.

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​ @hauntedsiriel​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @naryamirie​ @legolasdeserveslove​ @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @sagabriar​ @brushwood-souls​ @taurlel​

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

Extra Notes: Elvish is SO FUCKING HARD. And yes I put the Elvenqueen in this. And dwarves are inbound. Don't guess the plotline, just DON'T.

Fun Facts: In Old Nordic mythology, there was a forest known as Mirkwood. There was also a dwarf called Durin, who created the line of the most power dwarfs, some of which, just to name a few, were Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dvalin, Balin, Oin, Oakenshield, and Gandalf. There were also many types of Elves-- Ljosalfar were the Light Elves, and Dokkalfar were the Dark Elves. In general, Elves were known as Alfar, and they lived in Alfheimr, "The Land of the Elves." Supposedly, Alfheimr had shining trees of silver and gold, like Lothlorien. Also, there was a dragon called Fafnir, a cursed fire-drake, coppery-red, who laid atop a mound of gold and guarded his wrongfully-taken treasure with his life. The original owner of this treasure was a dwarf, reduced to a husk of his former self, called Andvari, who, out of all of this treasure, loved most a golden ring, inscribed with runes. He cursed this ring, so that all who wore it would soon come into misfortune...