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geraskierficrecs · 2 years ago

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End of the Year Updates (2022)

Thank you all for hanging around and continuing to be amazing friends, writers, artists, and readers for the Witcher fandom! You have all been incredibly supportive and make me so glad that I am a part of this too. To that end, I’ve collected all the fics I’ve completed or are in progress this year.

Links and descriptions under the cut.

In-Progress:

The Sin Eater

“He doesn’t have much time now,” the demon observed, “Even Witchers need oxygen. This is your only hope of saving him.”

Jaskier’s face went firm and determined, turning back to the creature with no sign of his earlier hesitation.

The demon looked amused. “Are you sure he’d worth giving up so much?”

“All that and more,” Jaskier whispered.

Then he stepped into the circle. ————————— To save Geralt, Jaskier lets himself be possessed by the demon he was hunting. Will there be anything left of the bard for Geralt to save?

The Fixer

In the world of the wealthiest members of society, there is only one man who you call when there is a problem that needs to disappear. Whether it's killing off your competition or ensuring you have the blackmail you need to keep your enemies at bay, Jaskier--better known as Dandelion--has made a living getting his hands dirty.

So, when the offer comes to track down the missing child of a billionaire CEO, Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier is more than happy to go undercover and get the information they need to ensure Geralt doesn't become a problem.

But what happens when he starts to have feelings for the kind, smartass barista and his strange family?

Completed Multi-Chapter Works:

Lark of My Heart

“What do I smell like to you?”

Geralt looked up from where he was sharpening a blade to frown at the bard. “What?”

“You’re always sniffing around me,” Jaskier explained with a smile that covered the sheepish blush on his cheeks, “And I've read that Witchers have a keen sense of smell so tell me, what do I smell like to you?”

Home. ___________________________

After the mountain, Geralt faces the reality of what his temper has destroyed and tries to pretend like he's fine with that. (He isn't.)

Call Me Sunshine (Jaskier/Eskel)

It becomes a habit to keep an eye on the front door every Wednesday. Jaskier told him after the second week that he tries to grab the flowers on his lunch break. It’s how he found the shop in the first place.

“I tutor a kid near here,” he tells Eskel as he watches the florist trim the thorns off some David Austen roses. “He’s a menace, but his mom wants him to learn piano and is willing to pay for all the grey hairs I’m getting.”

“You play piano?”

“And a few other instruments. My favorite is the lute.”

Eskel grins a little. “A lute? Do you moonlight as a bard too?” ___________________________

Or, a florist AU with enough misunderstandings and pining to fill an entire season of a CW show.

Dying for You (Again and Again)

By his understandably shoddy memory, Jaskier had died over 1300 times since he first drew breath several hundred years ago.

Somehow, none of those deaths ever seemed to hurt as much as the dreams of Geralt. ___________________________________

Or, the Old Guard AU no one asked for, but I wrote.

With My Last Breath

Jaskier is tortured by Nilfgaard--angst, whump, and fluff follow. In that order.

Wolves and Men

There was a challenge in his expression. A dare for Geralt to cast him aside once more.

Like he had on the mountain.

If life could give me one blessing—Geralt shook his head to banish the memory of those vicious words. Words he’d had plenty of time to regret in the years since Jaskier had walked away. Since Gerat had sent him away.

“Jaskier,” he whispered, voice thick. ________________________ Jaskier thought he'd found the perfect alpha to follow for the rest of his life only to be cast aside. He should have known better--the White Wolf always hunts alone.

If Wishing Made It So

Geralt stared down into the ravine and the glittering rocks below and wished the rumors of the Witcher’s missing emotions were true. He wished for a lot of things, then, staring down at the smear of blue silk stained red.

None of them came true. ———-

On a hunt that goes bad, Geralt is forced to imagine a world where his bard will no longer walk at his side.

Series:

Villainous Universe

Series featuring a supervillain Jaskier falling for the superhero Witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Contains explicit content as well as all my favorite angsty tropes.

The Sentinel/Guide Verse

Jaskier was half way through a lackluster rendition of one of his least popular songs when his world went static.

In his ears, a foreign heartbeat thundered, ragged and wounded. It felt as though his lungs had gone sideways with the sensation. Even the air itself tasted like it was charged with lightning, bright and bitter as ozone. Deep in his gut, he felt something urging himself forward, pulling him like some invisible string towards an unknown destination.

Something brushed across his senses, rough as tree bark, and sinking into his skin to crawl like ants beneath. He froze, eyes darting around the room like he could spot whoever it was that had sent his senses scrambling against the hard earned shields he was always careful to maintain. In his hands, his fingers faltered, melody disappearing beneath the wave of wrong that felt like it was choking him.

The answer was simple--and impossible.

There was a Sentinel here.

The Full Cops and Robbers Verse

An enemies to lovers story revolving around a charming, mysterious thief and the cop that is absolutely done with his shit.

The Witcher Soldier Verse

Geralt barely managed to slam the pommel of his sword up in a glancing blow that shattered the metal latch holding the Soldier’s mask in place. The Soldier rolled into the movement with a dancer’s grace and came to his full height just as easily. For a moment, his hands reached up to run over the exposed skin, before he slowly turned to face Geralt once more.

The Witcher froze in a mixture of horror and near-frantic hope.

He stared into the eyes of a dead man and whispered, “Jaskier?”

The Soldi--the bard frowned at him in confusion and spoke with a voice rough with disuse,

“Who the hell is Jaskier?” ___________________________

Or, the Winter Soldier AU.

A Light in the Dark Series

One will rise And one will fail, But none can escape destiny’s call. ____________

Jaskier is a bard with a secret. For all the world knows, he strolled onto a stage ten years ago and made a name for himself as the sidekick of the White Wolf. But what came before? And will he be able to escape destiny's call?

A Three Part Series Exploring My Take on a Feral Version of Jaskier

One Shots:

Star Crossed

“It’s not true.” The man’s voice is rough as a knife over gravel and is short enough to make the bard falter at his tone. It takes him a moment to realize he’s referring to the story he’d told as part of the festival.

“You don’t believe in the lost lovers?” he asks, offended to the very core of his romantic heart. He stands a little straighter to glare up at the larger man. “I’ll have you know that my story comes from the works of Master Essi herself--she knew the lovers herself. It's the foundation story of our whole town and this festival! How can you say the story isn’t true?”

A shadow crosses over the stranger’s face and eyes that flash gold flick away from the bard to stare at the trees and the lonely hill. Despite himself, the bard feels his heart ache at the grief in his expression.

“He didn’t come back.”

Burn For You

Jaskier twitched helplessly as the women filed out of the mill and left him where he was bound on the floor. He arched his back slightly, trying to see to where the fire was slowly creeping from the bed to drip onto the floor. It hit the edge of the floor and he closed his eyes, going limp with exhausted pain.

His body ached as he lay on the ground, bleeding. The floor was cold at his back and noise came through staticky and broken like a voice through a waterfall. He could just vaguely hear footsteps thudding toward him accompanied by shouting. Still, his vision refused to focus, and the only thing he could identify around him was the flickering red of the flames reflected in the cloud heavy with rain that would never be enough to stop the fire spreading through the mill.

All he could hope was that the smoke killed him before he began to burn.

Gilded With Blood (Aiden/Lambert)

Aiden watched the slowly growing pool of his life’s blood dripping onto the red rock below him. His chest rose and fell in ragged little gasps made awkward by the sword still pinning him to the earth. Pain was far away now and he knew only the cold chill of death would replace it.

As his eyes closed, he couldn’t help but think:

This was going to destroy Lambert.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Seducing Your Fiancé

It is a truth universally known that Geralt fucking hated Viscount Julien de Lettenhove.

Their rivalry was the stuff of legends, the sort that drew the eye and the idle gossip of members of court. It ensured that each time they came within five feet of the other, the entire room would go still, watchful. Eager. For what could be more delicious, more exciting than a fight between the Crown Prince and his new betrothed?

I’ll Sleep Forever Next to You

“Geralt?” Eskel’s voice distracts him from his spiraling thoughts. “What’s wrong? Where’s the lark?”

Geralt seizes on his brother in arms, near desperate for someone who might know what to do. “He’s sick. He’s, he’s coughing, feverish--”

“How long?” The older Witcher looks like he does before battle, steady and fierce.

“I, I’m not sure.” Abruptly, Jaskier’s early night has all manner of new meanings. Had he been feeling poorly that long? His brow furrows. “He sounded like he was having trouble breathing last night.” _____________________________________

Or, three Witchers freak out over a bard with a cold.

Don’t Leave Me

Jaskier’s hands tighten around Geralt before slowly losing their grip, spasming where they fall limp. “Ger--geralt--”

“Don’t you dare,” he snarls back, “Don’t you dare try to give me your fucking goodbyes. You are not dying.”

“S--silly man.” Jaskier’s smile is full of painful fondness. “Would you fight death for me?”

Geralt swings him up into his arms and nearly weeps at the sound of familiar hooves running in his direction. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

Between One Heartbeat and the Next

Please. Please, not this.

Don’t make him listen to Jaskier’s voice beginning to strain in a way it never did on stage even as he continued to reassure Geralt.

“It’s okay… Geralt, you’ll be okay.”

Not without you.

“You’re...gonna be fine in...just a little while.”

You won’t.

“ ‘s...not...so bad...like going to sleep.”

Nononononopleaseno

Waiting for the Sun

Jaskier was dying.

The confirmation came with each cramping, shallow breath and spots of grey drowning out the mottled stone walls that would become his tomb. After all the years he’d spent terrified of this moment, it was almost anticlimactic to realize he was too tired now to fight back any longer. He was dying. The world would continue without him.

Blood dripped from his fingertips and formed erratic patterns against his own skin. Over the sound of his racing heart he could hear footsteps and murmured voices that made him want to vomit or rage in fury.

They were watching him. He didn’t need to look up into the window to see the strange faces twisted into cruel smiles, pleased at his suffering. He hated them.

Not a Damsel, Not in Distress

The one closest to him raised his trembling sword with a panicked expression at the unexpected violence. “Wh--what the fuck? You’re just a bard.”

Jaskier’s smile was more a baring of his teeth, made more alarming with the blood sprayed across his skin and clothing. “Your first mistake was believing that.” _____________________________

Geralt and Jaskier are ambushed by a pack of mercenaries. It was really their fault for believing the yellow eyed Witcher was the only threat.

Frantic

Geralt was hanging limply against the rough bark. Two daggers kept him pinioned like a bug in place and left dark streaks of drying blood down his arms and exposed chest. Silver hair was matted close to his forehead from a sluggishly bleeding would that left golden eyes hazy and unfocused. Worst still were the bruises littering every inch of exposed skin like a collage of torment.

His Witcher had been tortured.

———

There was a name for the emotion burning like fire in his blood, eating away at the dandelion bard that had made his living seeking the pleasure of others. A simple phrase that barely encompasses the new tension in his bones and made his mind focus with singular, violent intent.

Wrath.

A Blade in the Back

There was a flicker of movement at his side and he felt something slam into his unprotected flank. Magic blew past him, ruffling his hair but leaving him unharmed. Surprised by the sudden attack, Geralt stumbled and whirled to face whoever had hit him.

Only instead of a beast, he saw a bard.

Jaskier clutched at his chest where a dark stain seemed to spread over his heart. His bright eyes stared at Geralt helplessly, mouth opening and closing without sound. Geralt stared back at him in shock until Jaskier dropped heavily to his knees, collapsing like a puppet with his strings cut. ___________

In the midst of a battle, Jaskier is hit with an unknown curse. All at once Geralt finds himself locked in battle with the only man he wants to protect.

The Sweetest Poison

“And what do you want in return? Your freedom? Your safety?”

Jaskier didn’t flinch from her scorn and Geralt could see his knuckles go white with the force of his grip around the small vial. “Save him.”

The mage stared at him for a beat before letting out a burst of laughter that echoed off the wall like the flutter of vultures wings. “All this trouble for the Witcher?” she asked incredulously, “Tell me, boy, do you really think he would do the same for you? That he cares at all what happens to the bard who follows after him like a lost puppy?” She stepped forward, confident as a soldier preparing his death blow. “Oh, I know who you are, bard. I watched you trailing after the Witcher, eager for every scrap of affection or interest he’ll toss your way. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jaskier was breathing heavily now, jaw clenched tight enough that Geralt could see the muscles fluttering with effort.

“Were you hoping this ill-conceived rescue mission would be enough to make him finally notice you?” she murmured with a mocking smile, “Poor little bard--always singing of love but never truly experiencing it.”

Into the Jaskierverse Additions:

Interlude: The Thief

Jaskier opened his mouth to cry out, to scream, anything, but it was ripped away by the jagged shards of reality tearing through him. It was the djinn all over again. The agony of watching Geralt disappearing beneath the rubble of the house. The first chill that always signaled Geralt returning to Kaer Morhen. The pull of power and magic that he now recognized as the moment before a spell hit and he was left with no option but to wait for the pain to hit--helpless in the whims of an unnatural force.

Only this time there was nothing to stop the raw power that seemed determined to unravel him down to his very soul.

was

remade.

Not Without You

“Geralt?” he finally whispered, a fragile hope in the familiar word.

“I’m here,” Geralt said as he crossed the room to stand next to the table. “I’ve got you.”

Kicking aside the corpse of the mage, he fumbled with the restraints until he was able to release Jaskier’s arms and legs. They twitched weakly against him and Geralt ran his hands over the rough shirt and pants Jaskier had been dressed in, searching for any other injuries.

“Geralt?”

“It’s me,” Geralt soothed. “They won’t hurt you again, I promise.”

Jaskier’s hands found an anchor against the front of Geralt’s shirt and he shuddered violently. “I thought...I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

#geraskier #my stuff #geralt/jaskier #geraltxjaskier #jaskier/geralt #whump #angst #Angst with a happy ending #modern au #completed story #ao3feed #masterlist #feral jaskier #badass geralt #badass jaskier #lambert/aiden

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astaldis · 27 days ago

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Whumptober Masterlist

Hi, thank you so very much for organising this year's Whumptober, it was a lot of fun! ❤️❤️❤️

Here are my creations for the event, all in all 54 prompts used and 30,630 words written, all are for The Witcher except the last one (but the two actors are also in The Witcher):

- Where is Jaskier?

Prompts: 1 "Search party"/"Race against the clock", 2 "Trust issues", 3 "Set up for failure"/"I warned you", 6 "Not realizing they're injured", 7 "Unconventional weapon", 9 "Bruises", 10 "Slurred words"/"Passing out from pain"/"I can't think straight", 11 "Seeing double"/"Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist", 12 "Underground caverns", 24 "I never knew daylight could be so violent", 30 "Recovery", alt. "Vermin": While the Hansa is on their journey searching for the druids of Caed Dhu, Jaskier goes missing. Geralt is worried, very worried. (Words: 9,053)

- Silence

Prompts: 4 "Hallucinations/Sensory deprivation", 27 "Voiceless", alt. "Venom": It is quiet. Not a single sound. Eerie. Absolute silence. But should he not hear twigs crunching under the soles of his boots? The autumn wind whispering in the trees' orange and yellow leaves that lend a golden glow to the picturesque landscape? Birds twittering in the bushes and sheep bleating in the distant meadows? How can there be this deep and utter silence? And why is he alone? Where is everybody? Milva? Regis? Cahir? And, most of all, Geralt? (Words: 800)

- All Is Not As It Seems

Prompts: 12 "Cannibalism", 31 "I'm alive, I'm just not well": Coën groans. Judging by how tired he feels, he cannot have slept for long, maybe an hour or two. Something has woken him up. A sound like the whetting of a blade. Cahir is not sharpening his sword in the middle of the night, is he? Groggily, he blinks his eyes open.

"Hmm, how strange. This has never happened before. Why are you not out cold like your friend?"

For a moment, Coën stares at the tall blonde man, disoriented. Then his memory clicks into place. Soren. The cottage in the heath. The delicious meal and the nice guest room with the one bed. Cahir snuggled up close to him. Fuck, this is not the bed he fell asleep in, he suddenly realises. It feels like he is lying on a wooden table instead, and his hands— Dammit, what is going on here? And where is Cahir? (Words: 2,059)

- White Eyes

Prompts: 20 "It's not your fault", 21 "Spirit possession", 30 "What have I done?", alt. "Regret": Ciri has a bad nightmare. Yennefer wants to help, yet somehow she makes things worse, much worse. Fortunately, Geralt and Vesemir know what to do. (Words: 1,000)

- Retribution

Prompts: 21 "Body Horror", 27 "Voiceless"/I have no mouth and I must scream": After Stygga, Cahir wakes up shackled in a white room - with Emhyr var Emreis. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat! (Words: 700)

- A Hairy Problem

Prompt 23 "Public display": On their way south, Geralt and his company need to buy provisions in a town not far from the Yaruga. However, a surprise is waiting there for Cahir, and it is not a pleasant one. (Words: 1,000)

- Sleep now:

Prompt 26 "Nightmares": Jaskier has a terrible nightmare. Geralt soothes him. But was it really just a nightmare? (Words: 423)

- Something Moving In The Shadows (chapters 33, 35, 36, 45, 47-49)

Prompts: 5 "Healing salve", 7 "Magic with a cost", 9 "Broken window", 13 "multiple whumpees", 14 "Left for dead", 15 "Childhood trauma"/"Painful hug", 16 "Wound cleaning", 17 "Nowhere else to go", 18 "I see what's mine and take it"/"Revenge", 19 "Blood trail", 20 "Emotional angst"/"It's not your fault", 22 "Oh, that's not good"/"Bleeding through bandages", 25 "Stitches", 29 "Fatigue", alt. "Secrets revealed", alt. "Motion sickness", alt. "Shivering":

On their way to rescue Ciri, Geralt and his Hansa come by the ruin of an old castle. It is a bit eerie, but should they stay the night there anyway or rather move on toward the forest? You decide! Interactive Choose your own adventure Hansa fic with different options for the reader to choose from! (63,159 words, 51/51 chapters)

- Night and day, you are the one

Prompt 30: "Hospital bed": Lily keeps a bedside vigil at the hospital, waiting for Alexander to wake up. (The ABC Murders 2018, Words: 584)

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moonlightpirate · 2 years ago

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Masterlist

This is getting long so time for the keep reading cut!!!!

Return to The Madding Crowd

Chapter 1: The Storm

Chapter 2: A Fall Day

Chapter 3: To Love or Not to Love

Chapter 4: Proper Lady

Chapter 5: The Letters

Chapter 6: The Wedding Ball

Law of Destiny

Chapter 1: Stuck in Cintra

Chapter 2: The Journey Home

Chapter 3: Wide Awake

Chapter 4: Love and Dreams

Chapter 5: Damsel in Distress

Joey Batey and Jaskier

Secret Worlds series

The necklace

Together again

Dancing Under The Stars

Inkpot Gods

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Meeting the Lettenhoves

That Unwanted Animal

Part two Meeting the Lettenhoves

Adam Warlock

Goldilocks

Chapter 1: Thunderstruck

Valentines Day One Shots

Someone To Say

Madly

West Side Story

Somethings Coming

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randomperson351 · 2 years ago

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The Witcher

A Witcher and his Witch* - Geralt, his witch, a bathtub and some alone time. You can guess what happens. Oh, Jaskier is there as well.

Sleep easy, little lark - Jaskier has been travelling with Geralt for many years now, even up to Kaer Morhen some winters when he feels he can make the trip. Geralt always sleeps easily and frequently for the first few weeks, surrounded by his brothers and his bard. It's how he notices that Jaskier hasn't been sleeping, and he's going to find out why.

Or 5 times Geralt notices Jaskier is in a bad way and the 1 time he does something about it.

You’re my favourite kind of noise - At a tavern Geralt hears one too many jabs at his bard. He decides then and there, they’re going on a holiday.

Hands of steel* - The Witchers find out about Jaskier’s torture, they’re not happy.

Gratuitous hurt Jaskier fic where the Kaer Morons make it better.

#the witcher #the witcher masterlist #geralt of rivia #jaskier #randomperson351 #do not repost

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wren-of-the-woods · 1 year ago

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Wren's Radskier Ficlets

🪷 Fluff & Hurt/Comfort (aka all of them)

the greatest songs (are made up of unspoken words) | 2.3k | G | read on Tumblr Radovid has been hearing Jaskier's songs since long before they met.

Words of Love | 7.0k | T Five times Radovid meets Jaskier's friends and family, plus one time they are alone.

your gaze lights the fire | 5.2k | T | read on Tumblr When a close encounter with Rience leaves Jaskier in desperate need of somewhere safe, he goes to the only person he knows will take him in: the prince he swore he’d never see again.

#radskier #jaskier #radovid #the witcher #wren talks #wren writes #wren's masterlist

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fantasyqueen502 · 2 years ago

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Masterlist

Imagines and Miscellaneous Drabbles

(Feel free to re-blog and comment)

G: General audiences (All ages admitted)

PG: Parental guidance suggested – Some material may not be suitable for children.

PG-13: Parents strongly cautioned – Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13. (mild depictions of blood or violence, minor mentions of sex, and language)

R: Restricted – Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian. (Graphic/explicit depictions of blood, sex, violence, and strong language.)

Elsa’s Masquerade- Elsa x Female reader (Rated: G)

Ineffable gift- (Rated: PG-13)

Dragon and his keeper- Aemond Targaryen x male reader (Rated: PG-13)

Lady Strong- Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader (Rated: PG-13)

Mrs. Miller (Rated: PG)

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 2 (Rated: PG)

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 3 (Rated: PG, R in the last third)

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 4 (Rated: PG)

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 5 (Rated: PG)

Apple Pie- Joel Miller x Reader/Y/N (Gender neutral) (Rated: PG)

Dog Lady-(Rated: PG-13)

Wrong (Rated: PG-13)

Spider Samurai (Rated: PG-13)

Who are you? (Rated: PG)

Chili Mango Run- (Rated: PG)

Not a Robot- (Rated: PG-13)

Lunch- (Rated: G)

Officer O'Hara- (Rated: PG)

At Peace- Jedi! Female reader/OC x Poe Dameron (Rated: PG-13)

Dinner first- Poe Dameron x (gender neutral) reader (Rated: PG-13)

Kiss of Life: (PG-13)

Sam the Samaritan- Poe Dameron x male alien (Rated: PG)

Happenstance- Daryl Dixon x unnamed male OC (Rated: PG-13)

Lazy Day- Jack Russell x Oc (Rated: PG)

"If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!"- Jaskier x female reader (Rated: PG-13)

I am a husband now, a father, and damn good one- Jaskier X male reader (Rated: PG-13)

Three- Kane x (female unnamed) OC (Rated: PG-13)

Violet- Kane x female OC (Rated: PG-13)

Fourteen- Duke Leto x (female) reader (Rated: PG-13)

In Sickness and in Health- (Rated: PG-13)

Madam Persephone- (Rated: R)

Jessamy- (Rated: PG-13)

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fanoftheimagines · 2 years ago

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Jaskier Whump Week 2023 Masterlist

January 8 - January 14, 2023

Back to The Witcher Masterlist

Jaskier Whump Week 2023

Prompts:

Surrender or Sacrifice - Pieces of Himself

Mourning or Flashback - Bring Him Back

Isolation or Humiliation - Warm Embrace

Good intention; bad result or Exhaustion - Narrow Escape

Grief or Hatred - For Tis Naught, But Bad Luck

Betrayal or Tears - They Came for the Elves

Anxiety or Lashing out - In the Firelight

Tag: Jaskier Whump Week 2023

#jaskier whump week 2023 #masterlist #blog #navigation

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pherryt · 2 years ago

Photo

If you missed it, Wanksmas (a sequel to Wanksgiving) was an attempt by multiple authors to write smutty drabbles - any fandoms/ships welcome (but was Witcher predominant because the idea was born in the Witcher fandom.)

(Pssst - keep an eye out, there will be future events) Good thing for me, there was no hard and fast rule about it being only smut or only drabbles. The point was to create quick, easy to read fics to distract people through holiday shenanigans.

So I took it as a challenge to TRY and write smaller things (because I’m bad at that) but then I felt too guilty about posting a ton of small works, so i wound up making my ‘drabbles’ interconnected and making up a more complete story.

Images of You

Witcher (the books)

Rated: M

Words: 3437

Ships: Dudu/Geralt, Dudu/Jaskier, Geralt/Jaskier, Dudu/Geralt/Jaskier

Summary:

"Yes, as I said. I'm going, and you Geralt, are not going to stop me, because I, Geralt, knew your thoughts for a moment. Including the ones you don't want to admit to, the ones you even hide from yourself. Because to stop me, you'd have to kill me. And the thought of killing me, in cold blood, fills you with disgust, doesn't it?" (-quote from Eternal Flame)

After in incident in Novigrad where a doppler stopped Geralt in his tracks after taking the shape of Dandelion, Geralt has to face some facts he really hadn't wanted to face. But he's also given an opportunity he never thought he could have. It's the sort of opportunity he doesn't see how he could possibly say no to, even if it damns him.

In the Bath

One Piece

Rated: M

Words: 805

Ships: Sanji/Zoro

Summary: Sanji's been resisting for over two years. He's done resisting.

Accidental Omega

Witcher

Rated: E

Words: 2261

Ships: Jaskier/Others, Geralt/Jaskier

Summary:

It was only in the aftermath, when Geralt and Yennefer came to sort things out and break the spell, that Jaskier had learned what the spell had really done – something about Alphas and Omegas.

This might take a little time to adjust to.

Grand Totals:

Words: 6503

Fics: 3

Attempted Drabbles : 27

#wanksmas 2022 #wanksmas 2022 masterlist #witcher #one piece #sanji/zoro #geralt/jaskier #dudu/geralt/jaskier #dudu/geralt #dudu/jaskier #attempts at short fics

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pirateprincessblog · 2 years ago

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oh what i'd give to play the witcher 3 for the first time again

#adding a masterlist for the witcher soon #feel free to send requests #witcher #the witcher #witcher 3 #the witcher 3 #the witcher 3 wild hunt #jaskier #yennefer #triss #geralt #ciri

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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Winter's King 14

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Another work week :(

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Not long after the king’s departure, Lord Jaskier excuses himself to see to his horse. Queen Jazlene sends him off with a similar quip about serious matters. You don’t quite understand her. She should be concerned with the weeks of travel ahead of her, not only of the time, but of the climate.

She finishes the bottle on her own. Much of it went to her cup. You think of warning her but it isn’t your place. You can only watch her head wobble as that hazy look softens her features. On her last gulp, a droplet trickles down her chin. You suspect she might be as unhappy as her husband claimed of himself the previous night. They make a rather sad pairing.

It’s early still. Perhaps once they are settled, it won’t be so tense. They will have a chance to know each other better without the stresses of a war or the road ahead.

Your thoughts stray and your vision fogs as you stare at a blue tapestry. Jazlene continues to babble and suddenly, the clink of her cup jolts you from your trance. You look at her as she slumps against the table. Her shoulders are slack, her arms bent around her head as it droops onto the wood. You can see her breath as she hunches weakly in her chair.

“Your highness?” You call to her. You sway on your feet as you watch her. Come on, move. “Your highness?” You take a step toward her, “Lady Jazlene?”

She groans and slips to the side. You rush around without a thought to catch her. She garbles drunkenly as you hold her in her arms, one leg still on the seat as her other hangs limply. She’s heavier than you would expect.

“Your highness?” You squeak as you struggle to keep her off the ground. You can’t drop the queen.

Her head lolls as her lashes flutter. She is certainly not conscious. The acrid scent of wine rises from her lips. You try to hike her higher, slinging her arm around your shoulder as you grunt. She’s not that big, you’re just weak. You can carry a cask or a chest, but a person is a much different matter.

You wrap your arms around her and haul her around the table. Her slippers drag and you clatter into the chairs and nearly trip on the edge of the rug. Your leg muscles thrum with the effort and your back racks. You look around. The bedchamber is too far.

You turn and little by little, step by step, drag her to the couch. Her feet loudly scrape across the floor. You angle her around with another laboured grunt and as you do, the hinges whine and the left door opens. You look up as the king enters and your lips part in surprise. You’ve been caught. Rather, the queen has.

He stares at you and eases shut the door. He comes around as your arms quake. He wordlessly takes his wife from your grasp and lays her across the sofa. You put a pillow under her head and back up, rubbing your upper arms.

“Your highness, she was not feeling well,” you say.

“She has drunk herself into a stupor,” he snarls as he backs up, crossing his arms as he glares down at her. “Do not lie, especially on her behalf. It does not become you.”

“Your highness, I apologise. I only worry for her--”

“You shouldn’t,” he intones, “she doesn’t worry for you. Or me. Or anyone but herself.” He turns and goes to the table. He rights the overturned cup and you reproach yourself for not doing so first. “But I do appreciate you attending to her. I’d rather not have found her upon the floor.”

“Your highness,” you bow your head.

He’s quiet. You’re unsure what to do next. Should you leave him with Jazlene or stay to tend to her? He will need sleep for the ride.

“Little maid, you will send to have a bath drawn. There will be little chance to wash upon the road,” he commands.

“As you wish, your highness.”

“Mm, if only,” he murmurs as she sits and grabs the empty bottle, sneering at its hollowness.

You set off to have water brought to his chamber. You assist the other servants in carrying the vessels of steaming water. All the while, the king ruminates at the table. He picks at his index finger and his cheek ticks. When at last the tub is full, you go to trail out after the castle servants.

“Little maid, I require assistance,” he says.

You remain and the doors close in the tension. You watch the king, your fingers twined together as you cautiously approach. He glowers at his fingers and huffs.

“You have small hands,” he rests his palm open on the table, “please, I would have use of them.”

Curious, you move towards him. He turns to you and holds out his large hand. He pokes his index fingers up and hisses.

“I got it on the door. A splinter,” he explains.

You see the dark spot, just the minuscule tip of it poking above his rough skin. The skin around it is inflamed, both from the sliver and his fussing. You bring your hands to cradle his single one and lean to have a closer look. You keep one hand under his and slip the other down the side of his palm.

You brush your fingertips over the lines of his knuckles. He’s quiet as he lets you gently squeeze. You glance up beneath your lashes.

“It might hurt, your highness. Apologies.”

His cheek twitches, “I’ve had worse than a maid’s touch.”

You squeeze until his flesh his taut. You pinch the tip of the splinter with your other fingers, using your nails to get a grip of it. You pull slowly. Very slowly, terrified of losing hold and having it go deeper. The wooden sliver slides out and before you can examine it, it falls to the floor, disappearing into the fabric of the rug.

The king sighs, “better.” He brings his other hand over yours and covers your small ones with his, “many thanks, little maid.”

He lets you go, his calloused skin brushing your sleeves, and he hums grimly. He bends his head forward and his white waves shift on his shoulders. He pushes his hair back and raises his head again. His eyes almost glow as he looks at you.

“I should fetch some water for the queen in case she stirs--”

“Later,” he dismisses, “might I ask another favour of such delicate hands?”

You dip your chin down, “I serve you and the queen, your highness.”

“Mm, yes, you recall, the knot in my shoulder, where I carry my sword,” he points along his shoulder, “if it isn’t trouble, I might have you loosen it before I must ride anon.”

“Your highness,” you acquiesce, curling your fingers into your palms. You remember that first night you met him, as he sat in the steaming tub and had you touch him. You sweat at the memory.

“It would be best before I soak,” he reaches to untie the laces of his tunic.

You watch him, helpless. As with the queen, you can only heed his whims. At least he is gentler in his mastery. He pulls his tunic above his head and strips it away completely. He lets it hang over one leg and squares his shoulders as he sits back in the chair.

You go around him and he moves his hair to his other shoulder. Your hands tremble slightly before you touch him. His muscles are thick and his skin taught across everyone. His arms are rounded with bulk and his neck is bullish in girth. He carries so much strength and power as if it is nothing.

You squeeze the muscles gently with one hand, pressing the other behind it. You knead carefully, gradually putting more behind it, responding to the soft breaths and low grunts rising from the king. You hit a spot with some resistance and he growls.

“There,” he grits as he drops his head forward. “Harder.”

You push your thumb against the little pearl of tension you feel along his shoulder. He exhales deeply and lets out a wolfish snarl. He grips his thigh as you work his flesh. Your hands move without much thought. Lady Rezlyn often requested to have her feet done, a much less ideal task.

“Mm, treasure...” he breathes though his words aren’t entirely clear.

Another noise rises from him, sharper than before. You stop, frightened.

“Your highness, have I hurt you?” You utter.

Before you can retract your hand, he has a hold of you. He lifts his head and hangs it back, his hair spilling down. He looks up at you with his bright eyes as he clings to your hand. He presses it flat and moves it over his shoulder. He drags it down against his chest where you can feel his heartbeat.

You’re caught in his gaze and his grasp. You just stand there, entranced by his golden irises. Each time you see them, they are more brilliant than the last. Your own chest tightens and binds up your breath.

“You can never hurt me,” he rasps. You gulp as he lightens his hold and pets your hand. He closes his eyes and winces. “Little maid...” he sits forward and gently moves your hand away from his chest, “you must go now. You must face the road with us and you will require rest.” He lets you go completely and stands. “I trust my wife will have many a demand to keep you busy.”

“Yes, your highness,” you murmur.

“Now,” he insists. “You must go now.”

He crosses the chamber and stops in the door to his bedchamber. You quickly flit over to the doors that lead out to the corridor. You pause and glance over as you sense him move. He stares at you, his eyes licking with flames. His chest rises and falls, trimmed in thick hair that trails down his hard stomach.

“Go...”

You obey and heave open the door. The soldiers on the other side snort. It is late, they must’ve dozed. You don’t think much of that as you harry down the corridor, not looking back. The king’s timber nips at your ears. The way he spoke; ‘go’. It was more than just a word; it was a warning.

⚔️

You rise with the castle, quickly falling into the tumult of the impending departure. When you arrive at the king’s chambers that morning, you are sent away. You find Jazlene in her own. He must have taken her back before the sun.

She is groggy and sombre as you help her dress. The pain in her skull leaks out in pathetic moans. You offer her lemons water and a cool cloth for her head. You see the difference as she accepts but she remains weak. It will be difficult for her to ride.

Horses fill the courtyard and the luggage carts crowd around the stables and rear of the castle. The scene reminds you of Debray. You only hope Queen Jazlene does not cause a similar scene. You don’t believe she can.

You accompany her to the front of the train. The king is not there. The queen clutches her throat as if she might be sick as the smell of the horses is stirred by their whipping tails. She grumbles and calls for a water skin. You find one and she shooes you away.

“Enough of you,” she snips.

You stay close, keeping watch should she signal for anything else. She can barely lift her head to do more than drink thirstily. Lords and ladies as good as ignore the queen as she mutters to her horse.

“Eh, mouse, there y’are,” Bryce’s voice undercuts your pity. “I’ve been looking for ya.”

You face him and the weight slips from your shoulders, “you have?”

“What are you insinuating?” He challenges, “Daisy’s missing ya.”

“Oh,” your brows raise, “well, it just so happens I miss her too.”

“We’ll be off soon. You should come claim your place with the luggage.”

“Should,” you agree.

You follow him through the press of bodies. You get further down, away from the pages and soldiers, see Daisy lazily hoofing at the ground. She chews on a sparse bit of grass in the dust. As you near, you notice that her holster is thicker than it was. She is attached to a small cart.

“What is this?” You ask as you stop short.

“It’s yours, mouse,” Bryce says staunchly, “isn’t right you riding with the chests. Not for so far as we need to go.”

“You... you did this for me?” You ask. "But... what about--”

“Found a spare horse. He’s a bit less friendly than our beloved but he’ll do fine enough,” he explains, “’sides, Daisy needs a respite. She don’t needa be carrying around my hefty behind much longer.”

“Oh, my,” you put your hand to your cheek and go to the cart, “Sir Bryce, you are a true knight.”

“Don’t you get sappy with me,” he tuts as he follows. “Look inside, will ya?”

You look inside the cart. There’s a long cushion and a pack. It’s a lot compared to what you came with; nothing. Bryce reaches in and tugs something from beneath the cushion. You watch the fur ripple out as he reveals the cloak. It’s thick and long and hooded. He holds it up.

“When we get to the Hinterlands, you’ll be needing this,” he says.

You touch the fur, it’s soft. You blink and feel it between your fingers. Your eyes sting.

“Sir,” you bat your lashes, “it is too much for me.”

“It isn’t very much, you are just too humble, mouse,” he folds and holds it out to you. “Now, don’t you be telling anyone this was my doin’. I got a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh,” you clamp your lips shut as you try to hold back your emotion.

A smile breaks through and you bare your teeth. Your cheeks hurt from the joy bursting forth. You hug the cloak and rock, looking around. As you do, you falter at a familiar face.

The king leads a dark horse along the edge of the yard. He is looking at you, or so it seems. You let your expression slip and tamp down your glee. You bow your head in King Geralt’s direction.

When you look up again, he is gone.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

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