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precious-little-scoundrel · 4 months

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Twenty Songs Challenge, written after being so lovingly inducted by the powerhouse that is sweet Mey, @the-ugly-swan . Challenge being to choose twenty favorited songs and write one shots based off of them with any pairing or fandom of my choosing. Being a weirdo and a little burned out in my own created universes beyond the fics already in works, I chose what currently inspired me most, obscure as it is.

Pairing: Henry “Hotspur” Percy and Lady “Kate” Mortimer Percy -early 15th century

Fandom: RPF, Shakespeare? Tom Glynn-Carney’s 5 magnificent minutes of a performance as Hotspur in <The King 2019> the armor alone was amply inspiring. The Hollow Crown fans feel free to imagine whoever, as you like. I love this historical pairing in about any iteration and the plot is drawn from both Shakespeare’s play and real history, the timeline, plot and politics being pretty self explanatory through the incorporated dialogue. NOTE- wordplay ahead with “cur” and “Kerr”, the latter being a Scottish clan holding great enmity with the Percy Family and charged with holding the Scottish side of the border. Also I kept Lady Percy’s name as “Kate” even though it was technically Elizabeth in the records.

Dynamic: a rough northern lord and his too good for him lady -a lady who has, through years of an arranged marriage gone horribly well, come to find his homespun gallantry and blunt ways more than a little intoxicating when knelt before her in amused deference. She could almost find it in herself to be gentle with him -if he hadn’t just started a rebellion whilst away from her at the Capitol.

Dedicated to my wifey @prompted-wordsmith who I did proselytize into the Percy cult one fevered evening with inestimable results, including her contribution of a few choice lines herein.

🕯As it Was ~ Hozier

“There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved

Never I'd had life enough

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was”

Warnings: 18+ to be safe. a small amount of sexual content, flirtations, a husband and wife touching in public, verbal sparring and talk of making children and use of the word “bred”, swearing, use of the words “cock” and “cunt.”

The sound of hooves in the courtyard rouses Kate from her anxious stupor by the hearth, toilsome grain list forgotten on her lap. The scroll swishes to the floor at her abrupt standing, wafting out of her path as she rushes to the window.

First the clatter of a single, foremost, over-eager rider, followed at a lag by his retinue, skilled riders all and armored as befits the guard of a nobleman. They make such a clatter in the yard when they come in after him. Some petty part of her briefly considers the tactic of staying here in their chambers in protest, a quiet sign of disapproval with his errand, of discontent with his brusque leave taking two weeks agone.

Her Harry would find her anyway, and like it better that she were in their chambers. He would like it well she were so near the bed and like it ill she slighted him in her dutiful welcome -but he would not speak of that. Not one for speaking much, her husband, not on matters that plague her these days, weeks, months. Kate might have it out with him in the old way and slap him about and toss cold quips and get from him little more than the same benign aggravation and good humored laughs between, a couple dozen kisses to her neck and a grapple in the sheets.

That is what talk they would undertake were she to stay up here.

It is that lone, eager, forerunning clatter of his horse that speaks to her, speaks for him. Just as his sword and his reputation and his gruff graciousness has spoken well of him across these northern lands, his eagerness to return to her, to outstrip his men in haste to be back from his fool’s errand and into her embrace -it is all the declaration of devotion she may expect from him. It is the truest form, without jape lacing his tone or tonic of lust clouding his confessions.

Harry Hotspur, as fast to return to his wife as he is to meet a fight.

It is love, of the sort she has grown to be grateful for, and it is that and fear of losing it besides, that rushes her out from their chambers and down the polished steps, out to the great hall and past the giant outer doors, cursing a lousy servant or five and ordering a bath and commissioning supper and refreshments as she goes. The torch flames bend from her flight, a whoosh and a shadow stalking Alnwick Castle’s stone passageways until the gray light of evening pours into her sight from the opened great doors. Squires and stable boys clutter her path but they part as she dashes, nay, only a dignified hasten now, out into the courtyard where nearly all of this fool’s troup have dismounted.

There are doffed helms to the Lady Percy, the jangle of chain mail crinkling with bows and scraps of deference all around them, but she sees only him, with mist dripping on his nose and a face too boyish for the insolence he has returned from discharging.

“Kate.” he utters.

Will ever he say her name lazily? She hopes not, for that alone she will endure the unwarranted cheerfulness with which he greets her on this dire occasion. She has heard it said in anger, in jest and in passion, vows and quips, praise and warning. And now in cheerful pleasure as evening mist soaks her gown and the heavy clunk of her husband's footsteps clang ever near her on the paving stones.

“Lord husband.” she greets, hands folded over her freshly healed womb.

His stride falters and he rocks back on his spurred heels, an arms length away, an embrace so tangible she can see his jaw tick from the watering of his mouth. “Lord husband is it?” he repeats thoughtfully, eyes drifting down to the paving stones for a brief moment as if to recollect some forgotten crime, they flick up soon and in them is jesting scrutiny, “My lady wife rushed all this way, down five corridors and a furlong of Keep only to greet me thus?”

Did her rising breath betray her eagerness? Could he see her in the hall despite his business dismounting?

“Your cheeks are red.” he shows her mercy, some form of it. His form. “But -Lord husband, it is, nevertheless?”

“Unless you would prefer ought else?” she inquires, he had once thought this smile quite chilling, he had admitted after their first babe, now he finds it rousing, he has admitted after their third.

“If it please you.” his shifting stance is noisy, his tabard and sword and still clutched helm a racket of accouterments in the pattering rain.

“I have any number to offer,” she concedes, stepping nearer, a lady’s step, covering one third of the ground between them that he might vanquish in a single stride. Still, he waits. “Knucklehead.” she whispers, her breath a fog and her insult as lost as vapor in the ears of his watching men, her bearing alone must satisfy their curiosity, as must his growing smirk and rising color, “Jackenape.” Another step until each little scar on his face is visible and the little canyons each raindrop make of them. She saw his finger twitching where it grasped his visor “Cur.”

There was the slightest flinch between his brows at that, a furrow that smoothed as his mirthful lips flattened out. “Careful now, lady wife, with words like Kerr* thrown about, my men might think you presumptuous, their lady gone and married to some other, a Scottish laird at that. So sure of my death already, sweet Kate, that you must speak of Kerrs in mine own yard? Ha, ‘pon my word you are qu-“

“Hush!” Her hand, fresh warmed as it was by recent hearthside and rich velvets pressed frimly to his lips, a tingle shooting straight to her toes at touching him at last. He was silent then, only the puff of breath against her fast chilling fingertips. “Tease me not so,” she begged, her own mirth gone out in her eyes, her arch look turned to grief, “not when you are just returned from an errand all but ensuring such an end. It is too cruel, even of you. Handle me kindly, Percy, as you always have, in words this time, if not in embrace.”

He seemed to ponder this before raising that hand not occupied with his helm, clumsy and clad in gauntlet as it was, to her wrist, wrapping the chilled and layered steel round her pale flesh and gently tugging her hand from his lips, only so far as to press it to his cheek instead, their audience of men at arms unheeded. “I betook myself to London,” he enunciated, as if it were their first night all over again and his thick borderland drawl too strong for her courtly ears to decipher, “to remind a king of his debts.”

“And tell me!” she cried fiercely, a choked, barely quieted protest as her hands dug into the wet leather of his jerkin, wrist twisted from the steel grasp, “What errand is that but a fool’s? Have you no fear at all left in this bruised carcass? Do I patch up an animated corpse time and again from your wars only for it never to have soul and feeling and wisdom in it? Do I, Harry? Gone to remind a king? How do you dare such?”

“It is he who has dared too much!” he cried back, loudly where her’s had been choked, a ringing and rebauld defense, worthy of a man who would chastise his monarch in full view of council. “First his debts, and now my son’s land! We did not make children so as to watch like blithe cowards as their birthright is bequeathed out from under our feet -piecemeal!- to a courtly cunt whose only recommendation is his alacrity to pucker and bow.”

Kate glanced about her at the men making show of industry, piddling at harnesses and armaments, walking horses in circles. Her husband's words could be no worse than what he had said to the King’s own face, anyone without stomach to become a rebel would have stayed behind in the Capitol, sensing dissension brewing. Lady Percy could perceive none missing from his number. So, a war it was to be, then.

“So, a new generation of Percys is to play at kingmaking.” she summarized.

“We make no boast of it.” Harry protested in turn.

“No,” said she, “why would you with how poorly your last choice has served you?”

That caused a start from him, a step forward that was neither gallant nor eager but angry as man to man. Kate, still with hands fisted in the crooks of his armor, stepped with him, backwards to his hall. “It is your brother with the better claim.” he showed his plan at last, a slow and conniving admission, one not common for his brash ways and straightforward mind.

Kate gasped at the implication. “Edmund?”

“He was proper heir, all along.”

“Your father-“ she chose her wording carefully, “-did not agree.”

“My father’s preference is not law.”

“It is mistaken for such, often.” Kate smirked in reply. “And Edmund is not suited-“

“-Edmund is not the turd now stealing from his vassals!” her Harry rejoined, his helmet pressed to her chest, “Edmund will do.” he reiterated once more.

Kate stared at his temper, the signs of it in his flaring nose and his wild eyes, the cure was between her thighs but watching mist drops fall from unblinking lashes was sweet prelude indeed. “Edmund,” she replied quietly and in a manner to be heeded, “is not willing or suited, he prefers instead to listen to welsh bards and lay upon the lap of his savage wife.”

Her Harry rolled his eyes at her truth, an admission, or the closest to one, she would ever receive. As if battling some great inner turmoil she watched him purse his lips and heave out a sigh before in a sudden movement the helm was tossed to the ground -much to the scramble and reaction of a half a dozen squires who ran to pick it up from its puddle- and suddenly steel hands were upon her hips, tugging her near to him even as she shied away, her face turned in a pantomime of demureness. “Strange,” he said and his tone suggested he still pondered her report of her brother's amorous preoccupations, “-and her lap so less Devine than mine own wife’s.”

“Then why do you haste from it so often?” she whined, delivering a smack against his belted tabard, right where the lions paraded across his right breast.

“Only a man dying of thirst appreciates that water has a flavor.” he reasoned and Kate allowed the open mouthed kisses that crept down her neck, her face turned stubbornly still to the south wall. The blacksmith's roof will be in need of new thatching soon, before spring. Before war.

She feels stubble against her tender skin, bracketing those pretty lips she once derided him for. No warrior ought to have lips like that, it was not seemly, not when maidens were denied such richness, such fullness, such rosy hue. But there is roughness about his lips and on his jaw as it tucks into the juncture at her shoulder, that show of clavicle her dress allows drawing him in like a siren’s song. He must’ve rode hard the entire way, no inns or refreshment, no shaving or baths, straight to her as from a battlefield. The King’s city is just as loathsome as any field of carnage, but he went to free her brother, to get a ransom, to reclaim their stolen land, to remind a king.

He did it for her, and the babes she gave him.

Kate turns her face from the blacksmith's thatch and raises her hand to his face, tenderly stroking the three days' beard that's grown as he's been on the road, riding hard to get to her. They have backed nearly to the hall’s mouth, the drip of rain off the gutter patters behind her on the threshold, Kate knows he can smell supper and hear the clatter of their children racing to meet him on still chubby legs. How different is the love of home, man to woman, Harry would sooner fight for it and she would cower within. Her thumb swipes at the raindrops making farce of tears upon his cheek.

"Princess," he breathes against her palm as he crushes her into his chest, still half armored and agonized for it as he cannot feel her softness with the cuirass, the leather, the chainmail. There are curves and bosoms and soft flesh he knows too well just on the other side of this awful barrier.

Princess will be her title if his treason succeeds, if her brother wears that cursed crown. “Princess”. It sours her mouth, but it is kind of him to wish it for her.

"You will come back, Harry.” she commands of him, she declares the outcome of this brewing war, “Soaked in the blood of feckless scum, you will come back and put another babe in me. A little prince or princess," she hisses in his ear, and she can tell he freezes at that, her concession to his treason, still as stone in his metal casings.

His eyes are ever so blue as they search hers.

"So I forbid any recklessness, my Lord Husband. Because I want this - " and her hand slips beneath his jerkin and the hem of mail to squeeze his cockstand most assuredly, as assuredly as she was that he would be sporting one for her, gripping it as one might grasp a chalice of wine during a toast "- and the rest of you, in one piece." Harry slumps against her shoulder, panting into the chilled hair and too heavy for her little frame. "Or so help me God." she intones, sharper than any steel he wields. "Swear it, Harry." She gives him another punishing squeeze, and he groans, agonized, as his mouth meets with the softness of her bound bosom, his knees the hardness of the stone cobbles. If she hadn't promised a use for his cock, he'd think she was liable to geld him herself at his presumption to seat and unseat a king, but now that he is out of her grip, for a moment, and looks up at her with such longing he fears his soul has left his chest for hers.

"So help me God." he agrees, it is in providence’s hands, after all, and in Kate’s clasped one’s atop his head.

“Fool.” she says once more as she bends over him, gently pressing a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face to her belly and her chilled fingers to his sopping hair, “It is not my brother these men fight for, nor for me. Not when it is you that calls them to it.”

“For what then?” He mumbles into her womb, hands heavy on her hips, the courtyard’s occupants dispersed into the shadows of the eaves, but a couple dozen peering eyes twinkle towards them in the twilight’s gloom.

“How often have I heard it said here, in this very courtyard.” Kate scoffs, observing the strength knelt so adoringly before her, “Have I dreamed each cry of ‘no prince save he be a Percy?’ Ha, to think they fight for a Mortimer, indeed. Ha!”

Harry staggers to his feet at this poke, it is, as are so many of his Kate’s wounds, half torment, half praise. His blood pounds with the elixir of her acknowledgment of his capability. “It is well then, Kate Mortimer,” he recites, daring now to put his lips very near her own, to nuzzle his strong nose with her hawkish one, to tip a chin and bat an eyelash against her wet cheek, “it is well that you are Percy now yourself, through and through, wed-“ his lips meet hers in a brush she chases after, “-and bred.”

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

Hope all five of you who read that enjoyed it. 😆 I know it’s a fragment but as I’m nothing but hyper fixated when some interests resurrects in me, I’ll probably be back with more of them. Drop a note below if you’d like to be on a taglist for such developments.

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atamascolily · 1 month

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5 things I enjoy writing meme

Thanks, @aptericia for tagging me!

I'll start by saying that every creator has a series of themes and motifs that especially resonate with them and show up again and again in their most powerful works, and I'm no exception. The #vein of gold tag on my blog is devoted specifically to those posts which capture mine when I find them in the wild. Learning to articulate this both visually and verbally was one of the most rewarding exercises I ever did, allowing me to specifically customize my fics for maximum personal appeal instead of hitting it by accident.

That said, here are some more general things that don't quite fit into the tag but I still enjoy writing:

Awkward situations - I really love forcing characters to be uncomfortable, not necessarily in the sense of 'big dramatic terrible things' like injury or death, but in small, petty, but no less impactful ways. These are often, but not always, social, but they don't have to be--I like a certain level of realism even in my fantasies, which translates into a lot of low-level annoyances that are often omitted from stories. I know a lot of people write specifically to get away from that, but I love it precisely because it's so rarely modeled in fiction and it's so true to life.

Experimenting with different structures, formats, styles, tropes, and POVs -- if I read something innovative or cool or different, I instantly want to play in the same sandbox and write my own version of it. Basically, I'll try almost anything at least once, just for the hell of it and as a personal challenge.

Meta essays are like infodumping, but more organized and with citations and once you write them, you can just drop the link instead of endlessly repeating yourself. :)

Witty banter and snark, my beloved! Also puns, wordplay, and literary allusions - anything where I get to exercise my zany sense of humor, which often goes hand in hand with crack scenarios.

I also really like writing for specific people - I do a lot of exchanges, and I enjoy the challenge of finding that sweet spot where my recipient's tastes and my tastes overlap, especially since tailoring a fic to a specific audience is an essential writing skill. Sometimes I'll get an idea and just know someone who would like it, and it's fun to give gifts for any or no reason! Writing can be lonely, so I appreciate the social aspects of fandom, and the interactivity, especially when it generates new and interesting ideas I never would have come up with on my own.

I am the place where memes and tag games go to die, but if anyone reading this feels inspired to join in, please do so!

#writing memes #writing life

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lululawrence · 2 years

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Y’all realize what this means, right?

Louis started posting photos that have LT2 titles as word scramble puzzles the same day the @wordplayfics posted the fics for the prompt SCRAMBLE.

Louis is participating in the wordplay challenge, pass it on.

#it’s a total coincidence okay #I know this #but it’s fucjing hilarious that it just so happened to go this way

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becomeawendybird · 2 years

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Down To Be a Distraction by QuickedWeen (6.5k, E)

The English national team is on the brink of winning the UEFA final and it all hinges on a penalty kick from team captain and national hero Louis Tomlinson, who was forcibly outed in the press right before the tournament. The whole country holds its breath as the goal sails through.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, up-and-coming model Harry Styles and the team captain have been dancing around each other for years. Harry decides, on this particular night, that he's had enough and Louis deserves a reward that only Harry can give him.

Additional Tags: Model Harry Styles, Football | Soccer Player Louis Tomlinson, Football | Soccer Player Zayn Malik, Manchester United, English National Team, UEFA European Championship, Outing, Smut, Exhibitionism, Public Blow Jobs, Nonverbal Communication, Under-negotiated Kink, Getting Together, Wordplay Fic Challenge (One Direction), Wordplay Fic Challenge 2022 (One Direction), Posh & Becks AU, Minor Zourry if you squint

Written as a part of the @wordplayfics challenge for the prompt "Particular."

#down to be a distraction #quickedween #rated e #my fic post #my edit #fic rec #larry fics #larry stylinson #model harry #football player louis #wordplay 6 #particular #week 2

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julietthereaper · 1 year

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A Not-So-Hollow Christmas

~ A PrinceFox fanfic ~

Author’s Note -

prompt I seen from @jackstheprinceofhearts ! their account is amazing, especially if you are in some desperate need for broken heart content. thank you for posting your wonderful prompt! It was too cute for me to pass up

this IS my first post on tumblr, although this fic will also be posted to my ouabh collection on wattpad (my handle is jennacanread if ur interested!). I haven’t read tbona since the release date so I hope no one’s too out of character?

(obviously) spoilers for tbona | minor uses of swearing | set during the Hollow chapters and briefly after the end of tbona | not canon compliant

Summary -

After discovering Jacks isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas, Evangeline plots to turn him into a festive softy, even if it means making a few extra deals with a Fate.

Evangeline always had a sixth sense, just like how bells did. Although her sixth sense wasn't nearly as helpful as it was for bells. She could sense it when she woke up that morning it was time to start celebrating her favourite holiday of the year.

Christmas.

She squealed giddily as she launched herself out of bed, choosing a pretty Christmas-red dress to get festive, her pink hair blending nicely with the red silk. Evangeline slipped on some gold jewellery to spice it up before heading to the main area in the Hollow.

When Evangeline passed by the dining room, Jacks was already sitting at the table, sipping on a mug of spiced cider. He arched an amused eyebrow at her. "What's got you grinning like a fox?"

Evangeline snickered lightly at his wordplay. "It's Christmas season!"

Jacks amused expression fell. "Oh, of course you're one of those people."

"You don't like Christmas?"

He set his mug down on the table. "It's all awful singing, terrible gifts that no one wants, and distasteful decorations."

Despite Jacks's bahumbug attitude towards the holidays, it did not dampen her mood. In fact, all that rang through her mind was challenge accepted.

Evangeline was going to make Jacks enjoy Christmas, no matter what it took.

She took hold of his cold wrist, tugging him up. "We need a tree."

"We already have some outside."

"A Christmas tree, Jacks. We need to go hunting for a Christmas tree. A big one, to fit in the main room."

"Absolutely not."

Jacks was, unsurprisingly, being difficult. Evangeline had planned for this. "Alright, Prince of Hearts. I'd like to make another deal."

"You haven't even completed your first one." Although his tone was low, his mouth stretched into a grin.

"Think of this like a side quest. What do you want in exchange for a Christmas tree?"

He hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her head back slightly. Her heart picked up in speed. "Another night."

Evangeline's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. But before she could ask, he continued.

"Another night of you being mine."

Evangeline could have sworn her heart was going to explode from her chest.

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea-

Evangeline hushed that voice in her head. She held out her hand. "Deal."

Jacks shook it. "Haven't you heard the warnings about making more than one deal with a Fate, Little Fox?"

"I'm choosing to ignore those warnings in favour of Christmas spirit."

Jacks bent his head to nibble the shell of her ear. "Bad choice."

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

It was the first time, Evangeline had realized, that she had been a distance from the Hollow since she arrived. They needed to find a Christmas tree farm so they could find the perfect tree.

Evangeline noted how rigid Jacks was beside her, his jaw was set, shoulders tight, and his gaze kept flicking towards her. Was there danger somewhere? Had she said something wrong since they left the Hollow?

Evangeline bumped him with her shoulder. "Why are you so tense?"

Jacks' eyes narrowed at her, blue eyes searching hers analytically. "Do you feel any different?"

"About what?"

His eyes fleeted to the sky a moment as they walked. "In general. Do you want to run away from me, Little Fox?"

Jacks was acting strange, and she didn't understand why. She tried to ease him with a joke. "Not anymore than usual."

He exhaled, breath visible in the chilled air around them. Jacks' lips formed a smile. His shoulders relaxed and his steps came more natural than soldier-reporting-for-duty.

Evangeline liked him a lot when he was happy. She tried not to. Tried telling herself that he was a Fate and it was such a bad idea.

Instead, she grabbed his hand.

Her mouth went dry and her head emptied as she realized what she had done, the only thing she could think about was his hand in hers.

Jacks removed his hand from hers quickly. "What are you doing?"

His words sent her mind in a panic. Despite the snow falling and how cold it was, hot embarrassment fled to her cheeks, face aflame. "I was just... forget about it."

Evangeline gnawed on her cheek, keeping her eyes ahead and refusing to look his way.

That was when rough fingers fiddled with her hand until both of their fingers were intertwined.

She looked up at Jacks. His eyes softened as he caught her gaze from the corner of his eye.

Her lips parted into a wide smile that Evangeline couldn't contain. Jacks was holding her hand. There was something so intimate about the action, it shushed all of the warning voices in her head. His palm pressed to hers warmly, their arms lightly swinging in unison.

Evangeline looked up from their hands to see Miller's Tree Farm.

"We're here!" Evangeline exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the sign with the hand that wasn't holding Jacks'.

"Alright, go pick one out." Jacks nodded towards the trees.

"You have to help, too. It's part of our deal."

He groaned as Evangeline tugged him forward.

"Come on, you stubborn prince!" She laughed, using her strength to drag him.

"Only because I never fail to uphold my ends of deals."

Evangeline secretly hoped that he actually wanted to pick out a tree with her.

"We have to find the perfect one, Jacks. It can't be any old tree. It has to be the tree."

"Are you even hearing yourself right now?"

"You'll know it when you feel it."

Reluctantly, Jacks trailed beside her, hands still attached as they walked through the farm. Evangeline spotted a pretty tree around the corner. She dropped his hand to dash towards it.

Evangeline heard him mutter Dead Saints, Little Fox, under his breath. She inspected the tree when she reached it, pine needles lightly prickling her hands as they moved along it.

A mischievous thought popped up in her head when she realized it wasn't the right tree. She bent down to scoop up some snow in her hand before Jacks reached her. She stood up abruptly, hiding the snow behind her back.

"What's wrong with this one?" Jacks looked it up and down.

"It's too tall. But that one over there..."

When Jacks turned his back to find the tree she nodded towards, Evangeline lanced the snowball at his fur doublet.

Jacks' body went still. He slowly turned around, lips parted as an offended demeanour took over his face. He tilted his head at her as Evangeline brought a cold hand up to her face, trying to stifle her giggles. She failed.

"You better run, pet."

A deep belly laugh emerged from her mouth as her feet sunk in the snow quickly. It slowed her down, but it didn't stop her from rushing away from him. She dodged trees, weaving in and out of them as she tried to escape Jacks.

The ice cold hit her back before the hard thump did. Evangeline squealed, her hand reaching at her back, freezing nipping at her hands. Melted snow slowly seeped through her cape as she turned around to see Jacks smirking proudly.

She quickly formed a snowball in her hands, whipping it at Jacks swiftly. He dodged it with ease before stalking towards her, already hitting her again with another snowball.

"No, no, no!" Evangeline eventually found a tree to hide behind, gathering her breath. She made another snow ball, waiting for Jacks to come from where he last seen her. But he wasn't in sight.

Her heart pounded in her ears as her eyes darted around the farm. A flash of blond hair emerged and Evangeline ran towards him. She threw the snowball at his side, but the moment it hit him Jacks tossed one at her in exchange, landing in the middle of her chest.

Jacks chuckled deeply, she imagined from how quickly her mouth drooped down.

"I wasn't even ahead of you for five seconds," Evangeline whined, walking towards him in defeat.

"Say it, Little Fox. I win."

She sighed. "You..."

Evangeline smooshed snow into his blonde hair. Jacks' mouth formed an o shape as his eyes squeezed shut, melted snow running down the back of his neck.

"...Are tied with me," Evangeline finished, flaunting a pearly grin in his face.

Jacks pulled her in by her waist, Evangeline's heart skipping a beat. "Trust me, pet, there will be another round, and you will lose sourly." One of his hands drifted to her rose gold hair, tangling it in his hand before tilting her head back. “And you’ll be sorry you pulled that stunt with the snow in my hair.”

His fingers massaged her scalp briefly, a challenge lit up in his eyes. Just as Evangeline began to respond, she peered up at the tree they were standing in front of. "This one, Jacks. It's perfect for the Hollow!"

He shifted his head to examine it. "You like this one?"

"It's the right size, it's branches are in lovely condition, and it has a nice memory tied to it."

"Then this is the one we'll get."

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

After Jacks used his magic to persuade the owner to ship the tree over to the Hollow for free, Evangeline attempted to persuade Jacks to get decorations for the tree.

"It's not a Christmas tree without ornaments, it's just a pine tree. You agreed to getting a Christmas tree."

"I taught you too well," Jacks grumbled, shoulders brushing as they walked into the town square.

Little sparks ignited everywhere Jacks touched her accidentally.

Evangeline beamed in success. "Enjoying Christmas yet?"

"No, still hate it.”

Town square was decked out in every inch with Christmas decor. Lights glowed everywhere, trees, pine or not, were littered with all different sorts of ornaments, tinsel was strung everywhere, and a small band was playing Christmas tunes beneath a street lantern.

Evangeline took it all in, joy filling her up from head to toe.

"The North takes Christmas pretty serious."

She twirled around, delighting in the festivity. "You're from here. What has Christmas ever done to you to make you such a scrooge?"

Jacks shook his head. "Why do you like it so much?"

"Stop deflecting the question."

"I'm not. I'm giving you the answer."

Evangeline worried her bottom lip between her teeth as they neared a shop selling decorations. "It gives everyone a reason to be merry. You get to spend time with your family, give and get gifts, amazing food, silly carols, funny, romantic kisses under the mistletoe..."

Evangeline realized why Jacks did not like Christmas.

"By all means, Little Fox, keep going. I just love those funny, deadly kisses underneath the mistletoe. It's a romantic experience as women drop dead in front of me." He gave her a wicked twist of his mouth, as if he enjoyed killing women, as if it truly didn't affect him. Jacks didn't even touch on the matter of family.

But Evangeline noticed his eyes. Her father used to tell her how you found people's truths; in their eyes. She seen the forced smile in them, the hurt hidden behind it.

"Jacks-"

"We're at your ornament shop."

Evangeline exhaled deeply, kicking the snow off her boots on the steps of the store before entering. Jacks did not have the same care about trekking snow in the store.

"Pick out some ornaments for the tree," Evangeline urged him, searching for pretty ones too.

"That wasn't part of our deal." Jacks side eyed her.

She turned so that she was directly facing him. "Please, Jacks."

He stared at her intently, but she did not break his gaze.

"I'll make you cookies," Evangeline offered brightly.

Jacks looked away, groaning. "For Fates' sake."

She clapped, knowing he gave in to her. "Pick out some pretty ones!"

As he walked away from her and to a different part of the store, he tossed his head over his shoulder. "They better be good cookies."

There was an extra pep in Evangeline's step as she walked around the shop, finding some lovely green and red ornaments. She stuffed the box underneath her arm and continued her search.

Fake icicles caught her eye, and Evangeline was entranced by them. They glittered when light hit them at the right angle, reflecting little rainbows. She tucked those under her arm too.

After getting a basket and finding a few other ornaments, including a star topper, Jacks returned to her.

He only said one word. "These."

Evangeline peeked inside the box, eyes widening at his choice of blue and pink ornaments. There were even little foxes painted on some of them.

"Aw, these are adorable!"

Jacks glared at her. "Call them adorable one more time. I dare you."

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

After popping cookies into the oven at the Hollow, Evangeline spent the rest of her evening decorating the Christmas tree. The minute she tried to convince Jacks to help her, he scoffed not this time, Little Fox, and strutted away.

Although he was hiding it well, Evangeline knew Jacks was starting to warm up to Christmas. Even if it was just the smallest hints of it, it was still something. But her challenge wouldn't be completed until Jacks truly enjoyed Christmas.

After placing the last of the tinsel and ornaments on the tree, it was time for the star.

Evangeline set her hands on her hips, contemplating how she would reach the top. She tried jumping, she tried dragging a chair over, but it was still just out of reach.

"What, pray tell, are you trying to accomplish?" Jacks leaned against the door way to the main room, arms crossed as he regarded her amusedly.

"I'm trying-" Evangeline hopped, "to reach-" she leapt, "the top!" She ran out of breath.

She came to the realization that Jacks might put the star on top for her. He would decorate the tree with her!

Maybe.

"As much as I'm enjoying you bouncing all over the place, there's a much easier approach to this, Little Fox."

"Uh huh," Evangeline raised her eyebrows challengingly. "And what's that?"

Jacks took four large steps towards her, and when she thought he was going to take the star from her hand, he grabbed her waist gently, lifting her up and on top of his shoulders.

Evangeline let out a gasp, heart picking up again.

"Hurry up, your dress is in my face." Jacks' voice came out muffled.

Her thighs were also around his neck.

Evangeline quickly placed the star on top, breathing quickly. "I'm done!"

He placed her back on the floor, brushing a cool finger over her cheeks. "It's so easy to make you blush."

Evangeline poked his nose in turn, Jacks swatting her hand away. "Admit it. You're beginning to like Christmas."

"Has this become a personal mission for you, pet?"

A quiet ding interrupted them.

"The cookies!" Evangeline grinned, rushing to the kitchen, slipping on a pair of oven mitts and removing them from the oven.

She stepped back, admiring her work.

"Christmas cookies?" Jacks' tone was flat and unamused.

Despite how hot the cookie was, Evangeline picked one up between her fingers, ignoring the slight burn. "Ha! Look, it's Santa."

Jacks darted his head quickly towards her and took a large bite out of the cookie she held. "Headless Santa now," he mumbled as he chewed on the sugar cookie.

"Fiend," Evangeline retorted.

Jacks reached for another one, but Evangeline smacked his hand. "I need to decorate them!"

"Someone's going on the naughty list. It's not nice to hit people, Little Fox."

"It's not nice to bite cookies out of people's hands, Jacks."

"I'm already on the naughty list, why should I care?"

"Shoo, unless you're going to help me decorate these."

"I'd almost mistake you for a Fate with how many deals you're trying to make." Jacks walked away, obviously not interested in decorating.

Evangeline sighed. She picked up the bag of icing she'd prepared earlier, piping little designs onto her first cookie. Her festive mood was beginning to dampen. Jacks really wasn't going to come around to Christmas, was he? Of course, no matter how hard she tried, she failed. He was a Fate after all. Why had she expected Jacks to look at Christmas different for her?

One decorated cookie later, strong arms wrapped around her waist and a head leaned against her shoulder, the smell of apples and something distinctly male filled her senses. Evangeline could have melted into his touch, despite her earlier frustration.

"I thought you didn't want to decorate. You know, since you despise Christmas."

"Hush, Little Fox, or I might change my mind."

Evangeline couldn't fight the smile on her face. He grabbed the icing bag, still leaning on her shoulder and reaching through her waist. Jacks tried to pipe a design, but he squeezed too hard, a bunch of icing coming out at once. He growled.

Evangeline giggled. "Here, I'll squeeze, you keep your hands on mine, guiding the bag, okay?"

Jacks grunted in acknowledgment, placing his hands over hers. He guided her slowly, drawing little snowflakes on the snowman shaped cookie.

A warm feeling rose through Evangeline. "Next one."

This time it was a tree. Jacks drew ornaments and lights, actually taking it seriously. They continued like that until all the cookies were decorated, and Evangeline couldn't have cared less that she only decorated one. She was elated that Jacks had partook in something festive without motivation. It also helped his hands were on hers and how his body fit with hers.

He set down the piping bag, grabbing her hand and twirling Evangeline around, leaning her against the counter. "Happy?"

"You have no idea."

Jacks leaned in close, close enough that they were breathing the same breaths. His lips were dangerously close to hers. "Remember your part of the deal."

Another night of you being mine.

Evangeline hadn't a problem with it. She was already his, anyway.

"I couldn't forget."

Jacks laced his fingers with hers again, leading her to his room. On their way, Evangeline pulled him to a stop.

"Mistletoe, Jacks."

He looked up quickly at the strategically placed mistletoe above their heads. His eyes creased with worry. "Little Fox-"

Evangeline stood on her tip-toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting her lips linger on his cool skin. She hadn't known whether or not a lip-on-lip kiss would follow them outside the Hollow, and she didn't want Jacks to have to deal with that guilt, so she opted for his cheek instead. Evangeline had desperately wanted to feel his lips against hers. She wanted to have a true mistletoe experience with Jacks. But, as fate allowed, Evangeline would settle for a peck on the cheek.

"There," Evangeline whispered as she pulled away. "Now you have a pleasant memory under the mistletoe."

Jacks looked at her, really looked at her, with a vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely showed. His arms engulfed her and his head buried in her pink hair.

"When we leave here for good, Little Fox, please do not forget this."

"I'll never forget this," she mumbled into his shirt.

He pulled away to look at her. "Mine."

"I'm yours," Evangeline repeated as she had a few nights ago.

Jacks scooped her up, carrying her to his bedroom, holding her close to his chest. She loved how delicately he held her, how careful he was.

When they reached his room, Jacks tugged on the hem of her dress in question.

Evangeline nodded wordlessly.

He lifted it off of her, leaving Evangeline in solely a tiny slip that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Although she was sure Jacks had seen much more of her when he bandaged her up a few nights ago. She reached for the buttons of his shirt, popping them off until the item of clothing was removed completely.

Jacks then laid her down, falling on the bed beside her.

Evangeline brushed a soft lock of blond hair from his face. "I know you hate Christmas for good reasons, Jacks. But the holidays are about spending time with people you care about. I know how good you are at hiding it, but I think deep down, you care about me, at least a little bit. So I hope I changed your mind about Christmas."

Jacks knotted his hands in her hair, bringing her head close. "I care about you a lot." He frowned. "More than I should."

Evangeline's eyes fluttered closed. "I care about you too."

"I know."

Their limbs began to tangle together as they shifted in the bed. Jacks held her as if she was about to be ripped from his grasp. Evangeline nuzzled her head in his chest, letting herself lull to sleep.

"Little Fox?"

"Mm?"

"Christmas isn't so bad."

"Jacks!" she whined against his skin.

"Fine. I like spending Christmas with you."

Jacks’ reluctant words reverberated through her head a million times. Finally. Evangeline had warmed him up to the holidays, even if it took a bit out of her. It made her cheeks hot that she knew she was the reason for his new take on Christmas.

She tilted her head up to look in his eyes. “I knew you’d come around.”

“Don’t you dare start up carolling, pet, or I will take back my previous statement. The tree in the main room will be destroyed before you wake up in the morning if you pipe up with those god awful tunes.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of annoying Jacks of the Hollow.”

His hand smoothed over her hair idly and his voice was soft from tiredness. “Good.”

Evangeline waited until his eyes fluttered shut before murmuring quietly, “Deck the halls with boughs of holly fa-la-la-la-la-”

The hand that had been in her hair moments before clamped over her mouth. “Shut up,” Jacks groaned.

She laughed behind his hand, amused by his distaste for carols. Once her giggles died down, he removed his hand and closed his eyes again.

“‘’Tis the season to be jolly-”

Jacks rolled them over so that she was underneath him, his chest over top of her mouth. Despite her voice being incredibly muffled, she still sang.

“Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.”

“Are you done yet?” Jacks moved into a plank position, uncovering her mouth.

“Maybe.”

“You are insufferable.”

Evangeline smiled brightly at him. “Will you change your mind if you found out I got you a present?”

One of his eyebrows raised. “When?”

“When you weren’t looking. It isn’t much, but it’s something.” Evangeline shifted to reach beside the bed, pulling the small box out of her dress pocket. “Merry Christmas, Jacks.”

Evangeline didn’t think she’d ever seen his features so soft. Blond eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes regarded the present with a delicacy he’d only ever used with her. He moved them so that they both sat up, hands carefully holding the box she handed him. She bit her lip in anticipation of his reaction.

“Open it!” She urged, hoping he wouldn’t hate the gift inside.

Jacks pulled the ribbon around the box until it untied, popping the lid open and peering inside. His lips curved into a smile.

“I couldn’t think of what to get you, but you’re always dressing fancy, so when I saw those golden apple cuff links, I immediately thought of you.” Evangeline watched as his finger brushed over the cuff links curiously. “Everyone deserves a Christmas present, no matter how far down they are on the naughty list.”

His eyes flashed to hers, amusement laced in his expression. Still, Jacks hadn’t said a word.

“Well? Do you like them?” Evangeline demanded, palms beginning to sweat. She hoped from the bottom of her heart he adored them. That every time he would wear them, he’d think of her. His Little Fox.

“I do.”

Jacks spoke those two words with so much gentleness, yet so much force that made Evangeline believe there were a billion other things he wanted to say.

He set his gift on his nightstand, pulling Evangeline back down into a lying position. Jacks moved his lips over her neck, sucking and biting at her skin. She let out a moan at the feeling, at how fast he could send her brain into a frenzy.

“Thank you, Little Fox.” His words tickled her neck.

She hadn’t thought him capable of the words thank you.

“I’m glad you like them,” she whispered back.

Evangeline swore to never forget how soft he was at the Hollow. With her. How his expression turned so breathtaking when he looked at his present. At her. How badly Evangeline had wished she was his true love. She finally let herself fall asleep, a deathly pair of lips on her mind as sleep claimed her.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jacks looked up at the winter night sky sourly, wondering if the stars were laughing at him. How many times had they watched happily ever after be wretched from his hands so despicably?

This one hurt the most.

His teeth clashed together as Jacks grind his jaw, thinking of the way Evangeline had been taken from him. Jacks had briefly pondered over if things could have been different if he’d realized Donatella hadn’t meant to him what he thought she did sooner.

He’d never loved Donatella. She was never his true love. That Jacks was sure of, he felt it all the way down to his cold bones.

Evangeline. Sweet Evangeline.

Nothing had ever meant as much to him as his Little Fox did.

Jacks touched his golden apple cuff links, taking a small comfort in how the cold metal felt against his finger. He had many regrets over all of the things he never said to Evangeline. He especially wished he’d told her how much the gift meant to him. How much she meant to him.

No one had given him anything remotely close to a present in centuries. Jacks couldn’t even remember the last time someone had did something selfless for him, like giving him a present. It meant Evangeline cared about him, almost as much as he cared for her.

She hadn’t even done it in the presence of the Mirth stone. She’d been far from it when retrieving his cuff links. Evangeline had simply wanted to give him a Christmas gift.

Jacks was taken from his thoughts as the crunching of boots trekking through snow hinted at his ears. He turned towards her, hidden by the brick building beside him and the darkness it provided.

She sniffed loudly, the back of her hand coming up to wipe her nose.

“Nothing makes sense,” she cried to the sky. “Things aren’t adding up, no matter how hard I try. Every time I think I start to remember something important, it’s like I run into a wall!”

Jacks wanted to go to her, pull her close, whisper in her ear that it would be alright. How he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. He’d torture whoever tried to lay a finger on his Little Fox.

“Apollo says he loves me, and I love him, even if I can’t remember. But… that feels like a kind of thing that the heart would remember. I just feel so alone. So empty. I don’t even know if I should trust him. He is my husband, so I should.”

Evangeline kicked the snow in frustration. “I don’t even know who I’m talking to. The stars?” She laughed humourlessly. “It just truly feels like I have no one.”

You have me, Little Fox.

Evangeline spun around. “Who said that?”

Fuck. He hadn’t meant to project his thoughts.

“Hello?”

Jacks closed his eyes, leaning into the wall so Evangeline couldn’t see him. When he first discovered she didn’t remember him, Evangeline became terrified of him. He was a fool to think Time let him off of the hook for how much pain he suffered. A bloody fool.

Jacks swore to himself he’d do whatever it took to return Evangeline’s memories to her. He would disembowel whoever had done this to her. Jacks vowed to become their worst nightmare. He would become the exact monster the stories about Fates made him out to be.

He heard Evangeline sigh. “Now I’m crazy, too.”

He felt sick for her. Jacks knew this was ultimately better than her being dead, but why couldn’t he just be happy for once? Jacks always knew Time would never have allowed them to exist, he should have never let himself hope that it might be different.

Hope. Hopeful Evangeline.

Jacks remembered when he was like her. Back before he realized he was never meant to be happy. Not for long, at least.

But he was happy with her. It was why he knew, in the end, they would never work. Curses couldn’t be deceived. They knew the truth. No matter how much one tried to hide it.

It was one week and one day from the end of Cold Season, marking it Christmas Eve. In a perfect world, he and Evangeline would be at the Hollow, curled up by the fireplace. Jacks would be kissing her breathless, and her heart would still be beating, beating fast for him. His would do the same.

He’d get her a gift that she’d squeal about, blushing furiously like the helpless romantic she was. They would both be happy together.

Instead they were here, in this awful mess.

“Evangeline, my heart, there you are!”

Jacks had felt the overwhelming urge to slash a knife through Apollo’s throat, to watch him beg and bleed mercilessly for how he was taking advantage of his Evangeline-

“Apollo! Sorry, I just… wanted to catch snowflakes on Christmas Eve.”

Apollo wrapped his arms around Evangeline’s waist, pulling her flush against him. Jacks should have walked away, saved himself from this pain. But it was as he told Evangeline before; broken hearts constructed masochists.

Apollo laughed. “How darling you are. Come inside, we’re about to sing holiday carols by the piano.”

Jacks remembered when Evangeline sang for him. She did it to annoy him, but Jacks always looked forward to her pushing his buttons. He would listen to every foul, off pitch, Christmas carol Evangeline sung if it meant that she would remember him.

Jacks had a fleeting idea.

Don’t trust him, Little Fox. He is not your friend. He is not your lover-

“That sounds lovely, Apollo.” Evangeline’s words were loud and held a warning to them.

It meant she heard him.

He just hoped she would listen.

Jacks really needed to stop hoping.

He watched as Apollo led Evangeline inside, a wet sensation trailing down his cheek as Jacks’ eyes burned.

Using the back of his palm to rub at it, his eyes quickly caught the gold flecked blood that now stained his skin. Jacks hadn’t even realized he was crying.

His breath shook as he inhaled. He closed his eyes, the image of Evangeline flashed before him. Jacks imagined her saying don’t lose hope, Jacks. Not when you just got it back.

There was nothing of equal value to him than her. He established that already. Jacks needed to get a grip of himself.

He would find Honora. She would be the best person to go to when it came to cures to curses like this. Although every time he seeked Honora’s help, it always ended miserably. Fate be damned. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Jacks would rack in his favours he built up over the years, and fuck it, Jacks was going to hope.

His fingers traced over his apple cuff links.

This Christmas would not be his and Evangeline’s last.

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beardyboyzx · 2 years

Text

Fics written for round 6 of @wordplayfics

Week One: Scramble | 555 | G - fic post

Q: What is the craziest thing Louis has ever done?

A: [...] He left me on my own while I was being arrested nearly by a French policeman [...]

or: Liam gets in trouble in Paris.

Week Two: Particular | 2.3K | G - fic post

Five times Harry falls on stage and one time he falls for Louis.

Week Four: Describe | 18K | Teen and Up - fic post

When Liam was ten years old, Justin Timberlake released Sexy Back.

Liam still doesn't know why, but it felt like a turning point, like something that fixed the ever-pending axis of his existence.

or: in the first year of university, Liam learns some things about himself.

Week Five: Check | 1.4K | M - fic post

"Can't believe you finally caught him," Niall says, clapping him on the back. He's been there with him on his very first mission, when Twenty-Eight was just the first criminal Harry encountered in his spy career to them.

or: Agent Harry Styles has finally caught his nemesis, but there's a knot in the plot he's not ready to detangle.

#things I write #1d wordplay fic challenge #**masterpost

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flowercrown-bard · 2 years

Note

for the fic title thingamajig!

'an adventure in larceny'

thank you! (I had to look up what larceny meant lmao) I've been thinking Lambden, but my heart says Geraskier, so...

Geralt walks into a fairy ring on a contract and gets trapped by the fae (maybe he had to steal some relic from them in order to break a curse or stop the tricks the fae were playing on some villagers)

When Geralt doesn't return to him, Jaskier of course tries to find out what happened. He goes into the fae realm and tries to free him

he too gets caught but manages to talk himself out of getting captured. The fae find him amusing, so they give him one chance to take Geralt back home: Since Jaskier tried to steal him away from the fae, he has to proof that he's good at stealing. His task is to steal three impossible things

the first thing they tell him to steal is time. At first Jaskier tries to use his words to get out of this. He argues that he already finished this task, because he steals Geralt's time all the time by wasting it, by taking something from Geralt that Geralt doesn't want to give to him. Thing is, Geralt loves spending time with him, so none of it is wasted nor stolen

At the end, Jaskier challenges a fae to play a duet with him. While they are playing together, Jaskier keeps slowing down and then speeding up unexpectedly, so the fae can't keep time with the song. Therefore, Jaskier has stolen their time (also he's stolen the show by how good he was)

the second task will be the next day, so Jaskier has the night to spend with Geralt. Geralt tells him he's foolish for coming here and at first Jaskier feels kind of bad because maybe if he fails, things will get worse for Geralt (what if they keep Jaskier here too and then Geralt will have to suffer his presence for all eternity?) but eventually, Geralt admits that he's worried about Jaskier and they fall asleep holding each other close

For the second task he has to steal something utterly unexpected from a being of steel. At first Jaskier thinks that this refers to the Queen of the fae, who is a steel magnolia (maybe even called the Countess the Stael?) and Geralt urges him to abandon the task and leave the fae realm. No one can steal from the fae Queen and even if Jaskier somehow managed to do that, he would get punished for the insult of stealing from her. For a moment Geralt looks so afraid and so...human. And that's when Jaskier realises. Geralt's hair is grey as steel. He strong and true as steel. Lastly, of course, silver is for monsters and steel is for humans and Geralt has more humanity than many men Jaskier knows. Geralt is a being of steel

Now, Jaskier has to figure out what to steal from him. It must be unexpected, so he can't just ask Geralt for something. He stole from him before. Clothes, food, knicknacks. Geralt expects all of that. So Jaskier steals the one thing, he knows Geralt would never even consider. He steals a kiss from Geralt

Of course, this leads to some more pining, because Geralt thinks Jaskier only kissed him for the task so he pushes Jaskier away, because he can't stand Jaskier kissing him without really meaning it. Jaskier thinks that Geralt didn't want him to kiss him. So things are strained between them, but at least Jaskier won this part of the challenge

that night, they don't sleep together. Jaskier knows that if he fails Geralt tomorrow, the witcher will be doomed. But if he wins, he also doesn't get Geralt back, because surely Geralt won't want to spend more time with him after the unwanted kiss

The third task is the hardest one. As soon as it's spoken, Jaskier knows that he won't be able to do it. Because the third task is to steal the witcher's heart

that's something Jaskier had tried to do for years. How is he supposed to succeed now? Geralt's reaction to the kiss was enough to prove to him that Geralt will never love him, that he's repulsed by the very idea. Hours pass, and Jaskier fails to find a loophole. There's no way he can cheat or use wordplay to get out of this one

The day is over and Jaskier has failed. But the fae queen has taken a liking to him because of how entertaining he is, so she gives him one last chance: He and the witcher are free to go, if Jaskier can tell her why exactly the task is impossible

This is the worst thing, she could have done to Jaskier. He knows what she wants him to say, of course. She wants him to admit that he can't steal the witcher's heart, because witchers do not have hearts. But he'd rather die than say something like that. So, he has to give the real answer, even if it means destroying what's left of their friendship. After this, Geralt won't want to see him again, but maybe it's worth it, if it means saving him. So Jaskier says that he can't steal Geralt's heart, because he's not good enough. Because Geralt is beautiful and kind and he has saved so many people and Jaskier is just...Jaskier. Unpopular and poor before he had met Geralt and now nothing more than a nuisance that's tolerated but not liked enough to ever fall in love with.

He says this...and nothing happens. The fae start laughing, mocking him. Of course they do. They know how ridiculous it is for Jaskier to love Geralt, how impossible to ever be loved in return

Jaskier glances at Geralt, to see if he's laughing too, if maybe he's recoiling. But Geralt is only staring at him in disbelief and hope. Slowly, carefully, Geralt comes closer, takes Jaskier's hand. Jaskier's heart skips a beat - not keeping time for a second. Geralt cups Jaskier's cheeks and softly presses their lips together - stealing a kiss. And then - oh. And then, Jaskier realises. As impossible as it is, he realises the true reason why he can't steal Geralt's heart. It's the same reason, why Geralt can't steal his. Because it has been given to him freely years ago. He has already had Geralt's heart, unknowingly, in the palm of his hands.

"You love me," Jaskier whispers and Geralt echoes "You love me."

They kiss again and don't even notice how the world around them shifts. Jaskier has succeeded in fulfilling all the tasks, so they are returned to the real world. In the end, it's not the fae, who get to keep Geralt forever, it's Jaskier

fake title ask game

#you know what I think I might actually write this some day #fic idea #thank you for the ask!#ask game #fake title #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #witcher

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