#and you know roach would blush and say like ‘it’s just a recipe i’ve been toying with’

[lokiiied]

in my wildest dreams orlando bloom makes a guest appearance in ofmd as will turner in all his flaunting bisexual pirate fucker glory

[xx-narcissa]

Can’t Wait Any Longer

warnings: kidnapping, poisoning, noncon

a/n: i wasn’t comfortable with full on smut right now, i’m still easing into it. but i hope that this was written to your liking!

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Avenger!Reader

request: “We can have dark! r x nat where r is an avenger and is in love with nat but nat never pays attention to her, so r decides to kidnap her maybe with some smut only if you feel comfortable.”

Masterlist

(not my gif)

Your blood boiled as you watched the scene in front of you. Bruce kissing her hand in front of everybody with no shame. He should be ashamed. That was your hand to kiss and he was just all on it! And she let him. Giggling and blushing like a middle school girl getting a love note from her crush.

“Aw. Young love.” Tony chuckled and took a big sip of his beer. You wanted to smack the glass bottle out of his hands for that comment. “Better enjoy it while it lasts, Bruce.”

Yeah. He better enjoy it. Because you’re going to make it your mission to take her back. Although you never really had her in the first place. But she’s yours. Bruce doesn’t deserve her. Nobody deserves her. Because they could never give her what you can. They could never love her like you do. She just doesn’t see that. Always brushing you off to the side.

It was a mission in Canada, so naturally it was pretty cold. And seeing as it was the middle of January, it was very cold. You offered her your jacket. “No, you keep it. I’m fine.” Even when you insisted, she turned you down. Yet later you see her casually sporting Steve’s jacket. What’s up with that? You wanted to confront her. What did his jacket have that yours didn’t? But Wanda assured you it wasn’t a big deal. And that’s not even the only time she’s done something like that. You and her were in the kitchen after a mission, and she complained about her shoulders being sore. So you offered to massage them, claiming you know a really good way to relieve tension. You didn’t. But it was just an excuse to be able to feel her. She turned you down. Then later she’s bragging to Wanda about how good Tony is at massages. What was so special about him? Nothing! But it seemed like Natasha would stop at nothing to push you away.

You don’t even know what you did to deserve that kind of treatment. Sure, you flirt with her a lot. But it’s never to a creepy extent. Just casual compliments and offering to do her favors. If she wasn’t into you, she could just turn you down using her words and then maybe you’d back off. But instead she was playing hard to get.

And that only made you want her more.

-=-

There was a mission today. A two person mission. You and Natasha. This would be a perfect chance for the two of you to get closer. It’s a week long stakeout. Usually you don’t like stakeouts, since you feel it’s a waste of your powers. You can literally summon fire with your hands and not get burnt and they want you to watch a building? How boring. But since it’s with Natasha, you won’t complain. Alone time with her is a reward in its own. And it gives you a chance to finally execute the plan you’ve been working on for weeks.

“Guess this is where we’re staying for the next week.” You sighed as the two of you entered the little apartment. The wallpaper was moldy and peeling, there were roaches crawling around, and it smelled like 50 diseased rats died in there.

She gagged and put her bag on top of the counter. “Well let’s just try to get this done quickly, so that we don’t have to spend any extra time here. It’s disgusting.”

Nodding in agreement, you continued to explore the apartment. There was only one bedroom with only one bed, so you made a mental note to let her sleep there, since it looked cleaner than the couch. The shower was just as disgusting as the main room, but you brought shower shoes so you could live with it. After your quick tour, you met back up with Natasha in the main room, where she was going through her bag.

“I’ll take the couch. You can have the bed.” You offered and sat down on the counter.

“Are you sure? That’s nice but I don’t want to take it all for myself. We could alternate if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. And trust me, the bed is way cleaner so if I were you I’d just take it.” You snapped. She flinched, and you knew you took it a bit too far. It’s just annoying when she constantly declines your offers when you’re just trying to be nice and make her comfortable. “Sorry. Just…yeah. You take the bed, I’ll go check the perimeter and see if there’s anything to eat nearby.”

After your perimeter check you picked up some sandwiches at the small subway they had down the street and brought them back up to the apartment. “Thanks, I’m starving.” She sighed happily when you walked in with food. To be honest, being back in that nasty apartment killed your appetite a bit, but you hadn’t eaten all day so you sucked it up and ate.

The two of you ate and got to talk a bit, getting to know each other some more. Well, she got to know you. But you already knew plenty about her. You’re just a good listener like that. The most important thing was that she was starting to trust you more, which would be a key part in putting your plan into motion.

Once you guys finished your mission and got all the information you needed, you still had a day to spare. So you decided you’d stay and just not tell them you were done yet, so you can get a little vacation, even if it is in a dingy, dirty apartment. It was your last morning there, so you wanted to surprise Natasha with some homemade breakfast. Special recipe.

“Good morning! You want pancakes?” She thought for a second before nodding. Great, she took the offer with none of her usual resistance. You placed some pancakes on a plate and gave her a glass of orange juice. “Tell me if you like it.” You smiled and sat down next to her to watch her eat. She ate the first bite cautiously, then ate the rest rather quickly.

After drinking all the juice, she slammed the cup onto the table. “Those were the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

“Well, you know, I could always make you more.” You smiled and ran your fingers up her arm. And she smiled back. That’s a win in your eyes.

“I think I’ll have to take you up on that offer. But I’m pretty full right now. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go take a quick nap.”

You waved her off and then put the dishes in the sink. Everything was falling into place and you couldn’t be happier.

-=-

When her eyes opened, she didn’t know what was going on or where she was. It seemed like some abandoned factory by the looks of it. Her clothes didn’t belong to her. And she couldn’t even get up to look around, seeing as she was tied up on the floor.

In the shadows, she saw something moving. Maybe it would be her captor. And she could kick their ass and escape.

“Oh, you’re up! Great.” Her heart and her mouth dropped at the voice. “Sorry about the location. Couldn’t find anywhere comfortable on such short notice.”

She looked up at you with tears forming in her eyes. “What’s going on, why are you doing this? Are you being brainwashed or something?”

You laughed at her stupid questions. “What ever do you mean? This is all me, Natasha. I’m sorry to have to do this, but you brought it onto yourself. You could’ve had this.” You motioned towards yourself and got closer to her. “But no. You wanted to toy with me. Play hard to get. Pretend you don’t want me and then flirt with everyone else right in front of my face. Well I’m done playing those games. So no more playful flirting. I’m taking what’s mine.”

“You’re sick. I swear, I’m not to get out of here and then I’m going to kill you! Slowly and painfully.” She screamed and squirmed around in her restraints.

All her struggling was amusing to you. It gave you a good laugh. “I know you’re a trained assassin, but it’s not like you have superpowers. Without a gun you really pose no threat to me. Hell, if I’m not careful I could kill you right now.” Your hands ignited, displaying your pyrokinesis, just in case she had forgotten that you could burn her to a crisp whenever you would like.

It worked, because she shut up. She looked down at the ground in silence, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Oh, cheer up. Once your spirit is broken down enough and I know you won’t try anything funny, I’ll untie you and we can leave and live a happy life together. I might hurt you, but it’s just because I love you. I love you so much and it hurts me when you flirt with other people. So once you’re as loyal as I am, then we’ll get out of this smelly place. Okay?”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t do anything. That angered you. So you slapped her in her face. The force being enough to topple her over. And that wasn’t even the hardest you could’ve hit her. “Answer me, bitch!” You yelled and got close to her face, probably getting some spit on her but you didn’t care. “Do you understand me?”

She nodded frantically and tried to move away from you. So you let her squirm for a second before pulling her back. Seeing the Black Widow shaking in fear really turned you on. You needed to see her. To feel her.

“You know, you should thank me. I changed your clothes and I didn’t even touch you down there. I restrained myself.” You grabbed her hips and dug your nails into them, pulling her closer. “Mainly because I want to hear you when I fuck you. I want to see what your pretty little face looks like when you’re all filled up. But also because I’m decent. So, yeah, you’re welcome.”

You closed the gap between you two and your lips collided with hers. For you it was heaven. It was erotic and steamy and everything you’ve ever wished for. But for her it was a completely different story. It was hell. Sloppy, painful, and lacking any true feelings. Even if she wasn’t kissing you back, you still enjoyed yourself. Your hands went underneath the shirt you gave her, cupping her braless breasts. She involuntarily leaned into your touch, moaning softly, allowing you to slide your tongue into her. Your hand slid down, cupping her heat through her panties, feeling the wetness of her arousal. “See? You’re enjoying yourself,” You pulled away from the kiss to say. You kissed down her neck, biting and leaving marks. She hated how her body betrayed her and got turned on. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it. You were in control.

And she hated the feeling of emptiness she felt when you stopped and stood back up, leaving her still on the ground. “Yeah. We’re gonna have so much fun. Not yet, but soon. Until then, I’ll be back. I’m going to go get some food. You stay here.” You laughed at your own sentence, “Get it? It’s funny ‘cause you can’t go anywhere!” You continued to laugh until you had left the warehouse, leaving her alone and confused.

You were gone for probably two hours. But to Natasha it felt like days. The whole time she was looking for a way out, yet there was nothing. You were thorough with this place, making sure there wasn’t anything sharp she could reach to cut the rope, or anything she could climb on to get out through one of the windows.

When you came back, Natasha was curled into a ball silently crying. “Cheer up. I got you some food from this nice ramen place. Maybe I can take you there one day.” You put the food down on the floor in front of her and even gave her some water.

“You know, they’re going to wonder why I never came back. And then they’re going to find me and kill you! Pervert!” She spat. Instead of arguing back like she wanted you to, you laughed and walked away, leaving her alone to eat. The rest of the day she sat there thinking about how alone and scared she was. She didn’t know if she’d ever see her family again.

You won. This time.

[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 4

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria. 

In stead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All soundtracked by a endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

4

Fall had begun to show itself in Cintra. Reds, yellows and orange colors spread across the trees. We continued through the landscape, which changed from fields and patches of forest; to marshland.

While Roach easily traipsed through the slop, Jaskiers ass was finding it difficult to keep its footing.

“Come on Gertie. Careful with my luggage!”, Jaskier said to it; for the third time having to drag the stubborn thing out of a muddy pool. I laughed. “You named the animal for the barmaid?”, I asked. “Well she did have a way with asses”, Jaskier smirked.

“That’s an image I’m not going to get rid of easily”, the witcher grumbled.

The slop finally releasing the animal’s hoof with a slimy pop, we could continue.

“I’d prefer we get out of this place as soon as possible”, the witcher said. “Foglets?”, I asked, his eyes meeting mine with surprise. I shrugged, and smiled.

“Grave hags, more likely”, he said, looking into the evening mist. “These are former battle grounds. There are still old bones to feed on”.

I shivered. My foot got stuck in a mudhole; and once again the witcher had to grab a hold of my leg to release me from the ground. “You knee?”, he said. “Better”, I answered. “The swelling is down after you let me ride a few hours”, I said; looking thankfully at the red mare he was leading. “Good”, he said. “Keep moving”. He sounded worried.

The ass was once again refusing to move; hooves quickly sinking into the soft ground. “Move, you stupid wretch!”, Jaskier hollered.

The witcher turned his head south, quickly as a wolf having caught scent of a prey. “Get out of here!”, he growled. I felt a shiver down my spine.

Jaskier kept tugging at the poor ass. I ran to join him; taking a hold of one of the legs caught in the mud. “Come on now, Gertie. Move!”, I said, my voice shaking. The ass brayed and shook its head. “Come on!”, I yelled, and pushed against its shoulder. I heard snarling and groaning in the distance. The witcher turned to look at us.

“Run!”

He smacked Roach’s behind, and the horse took of north. I stepped towards the witcher; but Jaskier grabbed my arm. “Remember last time, my lady”, he said breathlessly.

I sent a final look towards the witcher; my heart almost breaking from fear that he might get hurt if he was alone. He looked into my eyes, narrowing his lips; and nodded. Go. I’ll be fine, he seemed to be saying. I nodded back at him; and went with Jaskier to run after Roach.

Behind me I heard snarling and thuds. Metal meeting bone. Roars from the witcher, and shrieking from an unidentified entity.

My heart was in my throat, and I had a metallic taste in my mouth. We kept running; my knee beginning to burn with pain. Reaching what seemed to be the edge of the marsh, we found Roach waiting for us, stomping at the ground. I grabbed her reins; and put a calming hand against her neck. “Sshh, girl”, I panted. “They can’t get you”. I put my arms around her throat, breathing in her musky scent. “He’ll be fine”, I whispered, unsure whether I was trying to convince the horse or myself.

Jaskier leant against a tree, and slid down to sit with his back to it. “I can’t believe it”, he said; tears welling up in his eyes. “Lost. It’s all lost”.

I turned to face him. “Shut up!”, I raged. “He’ll be fine! He has to be!”.

Jaskier looked at me dumbfounded. “Of course he will. I’m talking about my lute and my clothes!”. I shook my head in disbelief.

I heard groaning behind me; and felt another chill down my back. I knelt slightly, and slid my knife out of my boot; quickly turning to face the creature sneaking up on us – ready to attack.

The witcher was covered in mud, and greyish goo. He smelt like rot and pigs’ shit. I made an audible gasp in relief. And then another gasp from the smell.

“Foglets”, he said, and looked at me. I stifled a smile.

He stepped up to Jaskier, and dropped his lute and satchel on the ground in front of him. “Your ass is dead”, he grumbled. “Poor Gertie”, Jaskier whispered; and then began examining the lute for damage.

The witcher looked at me again. “Make a fire. I’ll go wash up”. He left me and the bard; walking towards what sounded like a trickling stream. Passing Roach, he patted her shoulder lovingly.

I began my task with the fire.

“That’s new”, Jaskier said. “What?”, I asked, building the logs how Eist had taught me when I was a child – so that when the bottom logs would burn out, the top ones would light from the embers of them. “Washing up”, he smirked. “Next it’ll be perfume and girdles. Anything to keep the lady happy”.

I threw a stick at him, hitting his leg. “Hey!”, he yelped. “Just stating facts. He doesn’t clean up for me”. “Well, you wear enough perfume for the both of you”, I jeered, meeting his earnest eyes. He raised his eyebrows at me, smiling crookedly.

I looked down, blushing.

---

A while later the witcher joined us at the fire. I’d found a patch of mushrooms, and was just finishing stewing them for supper.

“I thought you didn’t cook”, his voice jolted me. He was cleaner, though still wore his muddied clothes. “Well, I was hungry”, I answered, and handed him a bowl. Once again, we ate in silence.

After having finished his bowl, Jaskier nodded off against his tree; small snoring sounds coming from him, letting us know that it would be a while before he’d wake again.

The witcher unstrapped his sword from his back; and groaned in pain at the motion. I saw a red patch of blood on the back of his shoulder.

“You’re bleeding!”, I said, walking up to him to look at the wound. I put my hand on his arm; but he tried to shrug it off. “It’s fine. I heal quickly”. I raised my eyebrows at him. “I’m sure you do, but it can’t hurt to let me look”. He grunted, and went to sit by the fire.

I grabbed my satchel, and rummaged through it. I found cinnamon and neem, silently cursing myself that I hadn’t kept an eye out for chamomile during travelling. There were extra bandages from the blacksmith’s wife – Bless her heart! – and a needle and thread.

I turned towards the witcher, seeing that he had removed his jerkin and shirt. Sitting there in the moonlight, he didn’t seem to shiver from the cold. The fire lit up his figure; once again letting me see the perfect shape of his body; and the many scars strewn across it.

I knelt by his side; and trying not to touch anywhere but the wound – as to not make myself lose focus – I began to wash it with a cloth. “Ask”, he said. “About what?”, I wondered. “The scars. You want to”, he grumbled. I shook my head and chuckled. “You’re a witcher. You have scars. It’s natural”. “There’s nothing natural about it”, he said. He sounded almost angry.

“I’m sorry”, I said. “Why?”, he asked. “Because I’ve let you think that I… that I believe it’s my business. That I’d think of you as an object for display”.

He turned his head to look at me, as I began crumbling the cinnamon between my fingers. “You think of me?”, he smirked. “Shut up”, I chuckled, blushing.

We were silent for a while. I made a paste of water; neem leaves; and the crushed cinnamon.

He looked into the fire, thinking. “Is that why you don’t want to get married?”, he asked. “Because you don’t want to be a display figure?”. I bit my lip, considering his question. “Among other things”, I answered. “I don’t want to marry a man twice my age”. “Not to mention; a sweaty sister fucker”, he chuckled. “He is sweaty, you know. I’ve met him”. I swallowed bile. “Thanks for that”, I said sarcastically. “You’re welcome”, he said. We both laughed quietly.

He met my eyes again. “But you also want your freedom”. I nodded. “I want to be me – not because of or in spite of – someone else”. I poured some water over his gash again, making him hiss. “I’m sorry”, I said. “It’s fine”, he answered. “So, you want to be alone”.

“No”, I answered. “I want to love someone, without being expected to just be a part of who they are; or have it expected that they are a part of who I am. Two people can love one another, without losing themselves. A relationship isn’t supposed to be an entity, but a partnership. Isn’t it?... It doesn’t need stitches”. “What?”. “Your wound. It doesn’t need stitches”, I said. “I want to own myself, not be owned; and have everything that I am and have , be someone else’s. I want something that is mine”.

The witcher looked at me, expression unreadable. I sighed. “I talk too much, I know”.

“Talking too much is fine, as long as you’re not talking nonsense”, he said. Jaskier gave a snort in his sleep. “Like some people I know…”. I smirked. “He’s your friend. You must like him a little bit”, I said. He grunted with a smirk in response.

I began treating his wound with the paste. He sniffed the air. “No chamomile?”, he asked. I laughed a little. “I guess Thrude forgot to pack it”. I put a piece of clean cloth against the wound; and began wrapping it. He lifted his arm, to let me go around it with the bandage. He flexed his bicep for a second; flinching at my touch; but didn’t pull away.

Once I’d finished, he put his shirt back on. “I taught her that recipe”, he said. I’d been washing my hands; but was halted in my process of drying them off. “You what?”, I asked. “Your nanny, Thrude”, he said. “I taught it to her”. “When?”, I smiled in disbelief.

He smiled, and moved his shoulder in circles, testing it. “When she was just beginning her training. She can’t have been more than 16”. “How is that possible?”, I breathed.

“I’m older than I look”, he answered.

I sat back down by the fire with him. “You knew Tootie when she was a girl?”, I asked, forgetting myself, and using my nickname for her.

He chuckled. “I’d killed an arachas; but it stung me before it died”. He lifted his shirt a little, showing me a jagged scar on his abdomen. “I went to seek help from a… wise woman…”, he said, looking at me, one eyebrow raised. “She was gone to see to a childbirth; but her young trainee, was still at the cabin”. “The one near Rogne”, I smiled; remembering my days there.

He looked at me, and nodded. “I was beginning to lose feeling in my arms, and couldn’t mix the ingredients myself. So, I told her how to do it”. He looked down at my chest; where my necklace was displayed. “She was wearing a necklace with a silver pendant the shape of a small frog. She told me about recieving it on her wedding night the year before. Apparently her husband had died soon after; so, she’d begun training as a vöelve”.  I knew about Thrudes husband. She’d loved him, and couldn’t see herself with anyone else. The witcher continued. “I told her that if she ever needed my help; to send a letter to my friend, Marilka, in Blaaviken; signing it as Frog”.

I looked at him in disbelief; dumbfounded. “Is that why you’re travelling with me?”, I asked. “Did she ask you to force me to marry Foltest?”. He saw my heart breaking in front of him. “No!”, he said, and grabbed my hand. “Y/N… she asked me to protect you; regardless of that”.

I looked at him hopefully. “So… You could let me go. Take me somewhere else!”, I said. “I could avoid this union all together!”. He let go of my hand. “No”, he said. “I’m sorry. I also made a promise to Eist. I have to honor it”.

I shook my head, stifling a laugh. “Everyone makes plans for me. For once I’d like to just have one thing that is mine by choice”.

I stood up, and walked towards the stream the witcher had used to wash up in. “Princess…”, he called after me. “I’m not a princess!”, I roared at him; making Jaskier jostle in his sleep.

I sighed. “I need to be alone. You’ll probably be able to find me, even if I do try to run away; so, don’t worry”, I said. He stood up to follow me. “Don’t!”, I said. “Just please, let me be alone”.

I walked into the woods, not looking back.

---

I walked along the stream aimlessly. The cold night air was biting at my cheeks, but I didn’t care. I breathed deeply; deliberately trying to make myself cry; to rid myself of the sadness and rage brewing inside me, like a painful ball of ice and fire. I wanted to scream; but couldn’t let out a sound.

Finally, I sank to my knees by the stream, meeting my own face reflected back at me; lit up by the moon. My fingers touched the surface of the water, making my mirror image distort.

I can’t run away. I can’t take control of my own life. I can’t do anything that I want to; because I’m someone else’s to do with as they wish. There is nothing that is mine. Least of all myself.

I stood up, and began running. I knew the witcher could find me; but I didn’t care. I just needed to react – to move… somewhere.

Following the stream, I continued running. The birds in the trees around me jolted awake from their sleep; and fled – the sound of rustling leaves mixing with the sound of my panting breath. The trees began to mix with rocks and cliffsides. I almost tripped over some rubble; but managed to keep myself upright.

Suddenly I found myself by a ledge; the drop bellow me at least a hundred feet. I sat down, my legs dangling from the edge.

I couldn’t run any further. I was at the end of the road.

If I want to have something of my own, I have to take it.

I stood up, and was about to turn myself around, when the ledge began to give. The stone cracked under my foot; and I fell.

---

I fell for what felt like an eternity. It was as if time had stopped, and I couldn’t scream.

Suddenly, something incredibly strong wrapped itself around my wrist; holding on to me, as I dangled over the abyss. I looked up, and saw the witchers face – his eyes fiery. He pulled me up with a single thrust of his arm; grabbing my waist in midair, and placing me on stable ground.

He grabbed me by the back of my neck; and let all his rage come at me. “Killing yourself? That’s your solution?”, he roared loudly. “You… idiotic woman! I should have let you drop to your death!”.

Tears welled into my eyes. The witchers face softened slightly; and he loosened his grip on my neck, moving his hands to either side of my face, stroking my cheeks.

“Don’t…”, he said. “I didn’t mean…”. “I wasn’t jumping!”, I yelled at him. “I slipped!”. I hit him in his chest; hardly wounding him; but harshly enough to get him to step back from me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“I want to own my life, not end it!”, I said.

He gazed at me hesitantly. “I misjudged the situation. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d…”. He halted himself. “I don’t know what to say, my lady”.

I looked at his pleading, burning eyes.

I have to take it.

I walked up to him, put my hands around the back of his neck; and kissed him. My lips melded with his, and I grabbed his bottom lip with own.

He pulled back; his eyes searching mine. Then; his face became resolute; he wrapped his arms around me – and our lips met again.

Opening my lips, his tongue slid into my mouth; meeting my own. His hand moved to the back of my head, and he held on to me so close, that I thought we’d meld together. His soft tongue was gentle; but his hold on me was brutal, verging on animalistic.

I gave a soft moan into his mouth; and he pulled back again; examining the topography of my face. “Y/N”, he breathed, and began to pull away. “We have to…”.

I nodded; and we let go of each other.

We walked back to the camp without speaking or touching each other. There was nothing to say, after all. Our brief encounter didn’t change anything.

Once we were back by the fire; he looked at me with cold eyes. “You should sleep. We have to move on at dawn”. “Yes, I know”, I said. “Witch… Geralt. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”. “Forget it. It never happened”, he said, eyes on the ground. I nodded, and went to lie down by the fire; my back turned to it.

I heard him begin to run a whetstone over his sword, and silently cried myself to sleep.

---

The next morning, we were quiet and avoiding each other. Geralt seemed to go out of his way to take the long path around me, when he went to saddle up Roach. I had a dull, grey pain in my stomach; making me unable to accept the chunck of bread Jaskier offered me for breakfast.

He sighed. “All right. Who insulted who this time?”, he said teasingly. “My lady, did you call Geralt an overrated sell-sword again?”. “Shut up, Jaskier”, the witcher growled. Jaskier retreated. “And I’m the sensitive one…”, he mumbled, and went back to nursing his blistered feet.

I went up to him, and handed him a garlic bulb. “Rub this on the soreness. It should help”. Jaskier looked skeptically at me. “Garlic?”, he asked. “Won’t it just make my feet smell?”. “Can’t get much worse”, I shrugged.

“Thyme would be better”, the witcher grumbled from behind me. I clenched my jaw. “I don’t have any thyme”, I said; and went to pack up my own belongings. “Use the garlic”, Geralt mumbled to Jaskier. The bard rubbed the bulb against his foot, and put on his socks and boots.

The witcher took my satchel from my hands, and fastened it to Roach’s saddle. “Time to move, little frog”, he said. Little Frog again. Nothing’s changed, I sighed to myself – unsure whether I was relieved; or sad.

We began walking again; moving northeast. Our next destination; Tigg.

---

Thanks for reading.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

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@ayamenimthiriel​

[tastesoftamriel]

Whiterun, part 1 (a long tale by Talviel)

Middas, 4th of Frostfall, 4E 205. I was saddle sore from days on the road. Since leaving Riften, I had covered the three major cities up north: Windhelm, Winterhold, and Dawnstar. In between I’d encountered bandits, fellow travellers, all manner of beasts, as well as some unsavoury folk like necromancers and vampires. Yet in the three months since I left home, I didn’t feel as homesick as I thought I would. I had already travelled from one end of Skyrim to the other during the Dragon Crisis, and once I’d learned all I needed to learn, my heart was fully invested in discovering the rest of Tamriel that I’d only ever seen in maps and books. I downed a potion of stamina and continued to trudge south towards Whiterun, where my calling as Dovahkiin all began.

I reached the city of Whiterun early in the morning. One of the guards on patrol, who recognised me from the Battle for Whiterun, saluted me heartily and we spoke at length while I unloaded my horse, who I’d named Roach, and left her in the care of the stables. Sounding almost alarmed at my change in career since the defeat of Alduin, he wished me luck and pointed me to the Bannered Mare as they were apparently short-staffed since the Redguard woman, Saadia, who worked for them disappeared without a trace. I thanked him and I shouldered my satchel and sacks, labouring up the stairs towards the Plains District. The early risers greeted me warmly for having saved their city, but I waved them off modestly as I made my way through the market square and into the Bannered Mare. Ysolda, the new proprietor, had only just woken up and was occupied with lighting the pit fire in the middle of the room.

She turned to me, yawning, when the door swung open, and her face broke out into a wide grin. “Well look who it is, Talviel of Riften, the saviour of Whiterun and all of Skyrim. Welcome back, friend.” She said warmly, helping me lay down my heavy cargo. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Ysolda. What was I meant to do, leave everyone to roast in the flames of the Stormcloaks and dragons? How are you? How goes business?” I asked, giving her a hug. “Business as usual, same faces and same antics. The city has been rebuilt since the battle, so well done you’d never think anything would have happened. But you’re here early, Dragonborn. Do you need a room?” “Actually, Ysolda, a guard tipped me off that you’re short of staff again. I’m now travelling as a cook, and would love to help out for a while, learn some recipes from you if I can.” She looked relieved and brushed a stray hair from her face. “I swear I’m cursed! Every person I hire either gets sacked or runs off. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, and I’m at my wit’s end trying to find someone to help me out here. How long are you planning on being in town for?” “Well, that depends really. I’ve covered Eastmarch, The Pale, and Winterhold in three months. Haven’t really learned much aside from at Candlehearth Hall and preparing a feast for Jarl Brunwulf Free-Winter in Windhelm. So depending on how much there is to learn, I’d say about a month or so.”

Ysolda smiled knowingly. “There’ll be plenty to keep you occupied. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, as well as a big recipe book Hulda left for me. I also have contacts in old Balgruuf’s kitchen, so let’s just say you’ll be overstaying that month. Of course you get Saadia’s old room and three square meals a day, no questions asked, as well as 350 septims per month. Two days off a week, alternating with me. How does that sound?” “Sounds great, Ysolda. I’m in.” I said, and we hauled my things through the kitchen and up the stairs to a modest but clean room. Ysolda left me to unpack and freshen up, and when I was ready I came downstairs. “Right, it’s now almost nine. Markets should be busy by now. First order of every day is to make sure we get all the freshest ingredients.” She instructed me, and we made our way outside. Gawping faces and cheers surrounded me as I walked along, and I had to resist the urge to pull my hood up to hide my face. We purchased fresh fruit and vegetables from Carlotta Valentina,who was so happy to see me she insisted on gifting me with an enormous wheel of cheese. Staggering to the stall opposite, Anoriath the hunter let out a loud whoop of laughter when he saw me, partially hidden from view by the cheese. “What in Oblivion are you doing here, Dragonborn?” “Working for Ysolda here, actually.” His jaw dropped. “Doing what, shouting rude customers across the room?” Ysolda giggled. “Actually, that would keep those Battle-Borns and Gray-Manes in line. Anyway Anoriath, I’ve got a recipe for venison stew that I want to try out. Will you have venison anytime soon?” “Certainly. I’ll be sure to bring some back for you the next time I go hunting.” “Make it quick, and there might be a bowl of hot stew in it for you.” She said with a wink, as he wrapped up a few slabs of beef and pork for her, throwing in a few rabbits as a hint of his admiration.

We brought our shopping back inside and I began to shelve or set out our wares. Ysolda prepared the bar and talked happily about the events of the four years I’d been gone, as well as telling me to keep an eye out for the Khajiit caravan who would soon be bringing in some barrels of fresh seafood, milk, and butter. I tied on my apron and stoked the cooking fire, checking the day’s menu before getting to work. At noon, the lunchtime crowd rolled in, and stared at me as if I’d sprouted an extra head as I took orders and brought out plates of steaming food while Ysolda ran down to Pelagia Farm to buy some grain and flour. I spent the entire afternoon awkwardly explaining the reasons for my visit about 500 times before Amren noticed the exasperation on my face and offered to run up to the Cloud District so that the Jarl and everyone else could know of my arrival. I thanked him profusely, adding an extra dollop of mashed potatoes to his steak. Nonetheless, citizens who had heard of my arrival came in to greet me and hand me gifts of appreciation, as I was busy trying to clear up and prepare for dinner. Ysolda came back with a huge basket of eggs, with Nimriel and Gloth in tow carrying large sacks of millet and wheat flour. She paid them for the goods and their help before they scurried off, casting furtive glances at me. I was in the middle of awkwardly smiling and nodding to Olava the Feeble when Ysolda clapped her hands for attention. “Alright people, show’s over. Yes, the Dragonborn is back and yes she’s now my head chef. She’ll be here for a while so you can all stop your lollygagging and head home unless you’re here for food, drink, or a bed.” About two-thirds of the crowd shuffled out, mumbling embarrassed apologies.

Just when the parade was over, a messenger from Dragonsreach burst into the tavern, looking for me. He explained apologetically that Jarl Balgruuf the Greater had summoned me, so I sighed and tossed my apron aside. Looking sympathetic, Ysolda promised to take over for dinner. I thanked her, then climbed to the Cloud District. Jarl Balgruuf was leaning in his throne, talking to his steward Proventus Avenicci. The guards announced my arrival with great flair, and I cringed, making my way up to the Jarl. He thudded me on the back in greeting, asking me about my unexpected return. I explained to him (for hopefully the last time that week) why I was in Whiterun and his eyebrows raised in amusement when I mentioned I was working as a cook at the Bannered Mare. “A…cook? Well, I suppose you’re too young to join the Greybeards, if you could even grow a beard, that is.” He joked. “If you’re really interested in becoming a chef, come work in my kitchens for a while if you’re really ready to prove your mettle.” I thanked him, saying I would definitely take him up on the offer when I was ready, and was dismissed.

I made my way through the Wind District, passing Jorrvaskr, when I bumped into a slim auburn-haired woman with green warpaint on her face. I recognised her as Aela the Huntress, one of the most esteemed members of the Companions. I apologised, turning to go, but she gripped my arm with surprising strength. “You’re Talviel of Riften, aren’t you?” She asked in a deep, confident voice. “I am. Saviour of Skyrim, Dovahkiin, blah blah blah.” I said, sounding annoyed. She grinned and let me go. “One of those modest types, I see. Nice change after dealing with all the bravado in there.” She nodded towards Jorrvaskr. “Not going to ask you what brings you back to our humble town since you’re probably sick of it, but the Companions have been in awe of you since you trapped that dragon up in Dragonsreach and slayed Alduin. We never let strangers in, but come by sometime. I’m sure the family would love to meet you, maybe test out your battle skills in person.” “Sure, why not.” I shrugged, taken by her straightforward manner. “I’ll let you go then. Have a nice night.” She said, turning around to head inside Jorrvaskr, but not before I caught an eyeful of her toned legs and behind ascending the stairs in her very short excuse for armour. I blushed, and headed back to the Bannered Mare.

Ysolda looked frazzled as she ran between the bar pouring drinks and doling out bowls of hot cabbage soup with bread. She shoved me into the kitchen as soon as I stepped in the door, and I immediately picked up the slack, naturally working the way I did for Keerava. Soon she looked less stressed as she passed tankards of mead and bottles of wine across the counter, gratefully pocketing the coin. The night wore on, Mikael strummed his lute and sang, and I had to kick a few drunk brawlers out (something Ysolda was not good at doing due to her slight build). I threw out the leftovers and washed up, finally extinguishing the kitchen fire just after midnight. Ysolda shooed a couple of stragglers out, and we ceased trading for the night. “Are you sure you can’t stay forever? I sure could use you more often! Well done on an impressive first day’s work. We wake at 8am tomorrow and start again.” I nodded, and climbed the stairs to my room yawning. Loredas rolled around, my first day off work, and I gratefully slept in until 10. Waking up and having some bread and cheese for breakfast washed down with a potion of stamina, I stepped out into the bright Whiterun morning. I got my knives sharpened at Warmaiden’s, bought a few more stamina potions at Arcadia’s Cauldron, then looked around, at a loss for what to do with my day. I contemplated going hunting, but felt too lazy to take my bow and run around outside. Suddenly, I remembered Aela’s offer from the other night, so I ascended the steps to Jorrvaskr and opened a door hesitantly.

I was greeted by a mixture of loud cheering and heckling, and came face to face with a woman and a man throwing well-executed punches at each other while the rest of the Companions cheered. Unsure of what to do, I just stood in front of the door pretending to look indifferent until the woman landed a cracking blow under the man’s ribs and he crumpled to the ground. Coin was exchanged, glasses were raised, and the fighters wiped the blood off their faces, congratulating each other on a job well done. Aela spotted me from across the room and let out a loud whistle, bringing all activity to a standstill. All eyes turned to me and I smiled awkwardly, raising a hand in greeting. “Come here to try out?” A burly man in heavy steel armour called out. “Oh, no, um…Aela asked me to come over the other day. Practice fighting and stuff. I’m Talviel. Of Riften. The Dragonborn.” I stuttered, hating every second of public speaking. “Aah.” They all said knowingly, and dragged me down to the main room, which was dominated by a fire pit and a long table piled with food. I made a mental note to ask who their cook was.

Introductions were made, and I was greeted coolly by Vilkas, the new Harbinger since the death of Kodlak Whitemane: a Nord who was a dead ringer for the man who first spoke to me when I came in. He had dark brown hair and a greatsword strapped to his back, and wore even more kohl around his eyes than I did. “So, Dragonborn, eh?” He said, sizing me up and grunting when he saw my short, single handed Nightingale blade. “Don’t suppose you can teach us how to shout in a day?” I shook my head. “Either you train for years like Ulfric Stormcloak did, or you just happen to be the Dragonborn.” “Damn.” He sighed. “Well, either we have a nice cosy storytelling session, or we head to the practice yard and see if you’re as formidable a fighter as they say you are.” We all decided firmly on the latter and headed out the back door to their training yard.

We devised a system where lesser members would come at me in twos, while the seniors would attack me one by one with their weapons of choice. Ria and Torvar were the first to face me, and I adopted a battle stance, readying the blunt practice sword I’d been given. The two Companions were heavy handed, and I dodged them easily, taking Torvar down with a swipe behind the knee and Ria with a blow to her ribs. Njada Stonearm and Athis, the brawling pair from earlier, came at me with the same fervour, but dodged around me cautiously after seeing what I’d done with their friends. It turned out Njada was called Stonearm for a reason, and my blade was almost knocked out of my hand as hers smashed against it. Using the opportunity, Athis sprang up behind me, but my perception skills, honed by the Thieves Guild, sensed him coming. I quickly shoved Njada so she stumbled back and ran at her, planting my feet against her chest and backflipping over Athis. Shocked by what had just happened, Athis had little time to react as I threw myself at him, pinning him down, and stabbing my sword into the ground half an inch from his head. He tapped out, but not before Njada sprang towards me, blade pointed at my heart. Grunting, I leaned as far back as I could to avoid her reach, then flipped to my feet before rushing at her. As before, she tried the same tactic of disarming me, but this time I ducked before our blades could make contact, causing her to stumble. I shoved a boot into the small of her back, ramming my sword against the thick protective belt she wore. “Who’s next?” I yelled, panting.

“Come at me.” Farkas, the man in heavy armour said, drawing his greatsword. I sighed, as I hate dealing with heavy fighters. Scanning him quickly for weak spots, I noticed his upper arms were uncovered. Perfect. Lumbering towards me, he took a great swing at my head as I stepped easily out of the way. There was no sense in trying to push, kick, or knock him over- the man was like a brick. I simply hopped around him for a while as he continued to swing heavily, then made my move when his guard was down. I swiped, and the blunt sword in my hand bashed against his unprotected left arm. “Ow!” He shouted, and I hopped to the right, doing the same thing. I ran backwards and took a bow as Aela cackled. “Both your arms are off, Shield-Brother.” “That’s gonna leave a bruise.” Farkas grumbled, patting me on the shoulder as he went to the patio. “Good fight.” Just Vilkas and Aela left. Vilkas was much like his brother, only much more limber and with almost impenetrable armour. “I think by now I’ve killed one of every living thing in Skyrim. May be time for a trip to Morrowind.” He said, and charged towards me. I rolled to the side, taken aback by how he used a greatsword as if it were as light as a butter knife. Wearing him out took a lot longer than his brother, and I gave up on that tactic after a few minutes. Finally, as he made a downward swing, I skipped over his sword and caught his eye, feigning expression of combined pleading and beguiling that Sapphire made me master, which caught him off guard. I took the moment to slash forward, stopping just before his throat. “Bam, you’re dead.” I smiled, and he raised his hands in defeat, looking at me with increased respect.

Finally, Aela stepped forward, drawing her bow. “I notice you have no shield. You’re in trouble.” She winked at me as she walked to the far end of the practice yard. Without warning, she fired at me, and the arrow whizzed past my right ear. I sharpened my senses the way Niruin taught me how in the cisterns, and prepared myself. The arrows came almost unrelentingly at me, as I jumped, ducked, and weaved, making my way towards Aela. As I was almost within arm’s reach, she fired a last arrow at me and I deflected it with my blade without thinking. “How the-” She spat as she drew her knife, crouching. It turned out that she was just as nimble as I was, and a force to be reckoned with. We danced around each other, blades clashing, when she suddenly leapt up and threw me to the ground. We wrestled as her Shield-Brothers and Shield-Sister shouted words of encouragement to her. I wrapped her in a headlock and she struggled to break free. With my free hand, I jabbed her in the ribs with my sword. She rolled facedown on top of of me, groaning in defeat, then unexpectedly bit me on the lip, a knowing look in her eye. I didn’t know how to react, but felt something stir within me that I only ever felt when I touched myself in the dead of night thinking of Brynjolf. She pushed herself off, and pulled me to my feet, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Well, I don’t know how you did it, but you bested all of the Companions without a scratch on you. You sure you’re not going to join us?” Vilkas said, impressed, as we stepped onto the patio, still out of breath. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be leaving Whiterun soon.” I smiled, pouring myself a tankard of water from the dining table that was set out. “That’s a shame, Dragonborn. We would be formidable with you as our Shield-Sister. But enough talk. A good fight makes one hungry, and I’m sure you’ll agree. Come, Tilma is sure to have brought out the apple pie by now. Best in Skyrim.” The rest of the Companions agreed, and we trudged inside, dirty and sweaty from our scuffle. We sat at the long table, eating hungrily and passing each other dishes. Finally, an old woman ascended the steps in a corner, carrying a large, fragrant apple pie that she set down and began to cut into slices. When my slice was placed in front of me, I almost smashed my face into it. As Vilkas had said, it was probably the best in Skyrim. “Hey Tilma? Would you be willing to share this recipe with me, by any chance?” I grinned, burping. “Well, that’s a closely guarded secret, dear, but bring me some cooking of your own and we’ll see if you’re worthy.” She smiled, clearing away the used plates and tankards. “Huh? The Dragonborn cooking?” Ria chuckled. Full and happy, I leaned back in my chair and told my tale, which evoked laughter from everyone. “The best fighter in Skyrim, working at the Bannered Mare as a cook. Tilma’s right, you’ll have to bring us something to prove your worth. Just not dragon stew.” Farkas laughed, coughing into his napkin. “I get Tirdas off. I’ll take you up on that.” I was hellbent on getting that apple pie recipe.

End of part one