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mrsarnasdelicious · 3 months

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Alright, Yous asked for this - PART TWO

So, the list of all my drafts doesn't fit in one part...

Riding the Beasts SCP 682 smut CW: Monsterfucking

Sihtric AU-arama Just all osrts of Sihtric AUs, in a long, big list.

Some good ass edging Edging Modern!Sihtric, straight up smut

I'll Be Your Prize [Finan x Sihtric] Uhtred tells Finan he can ask for the thing he wants most, so Finan asks for Sihtric.

The Things We Do With Power - I The Boys fic, mild fix it, predominantly wicked smut.

A very old promise Once Upon the beginning of my blog, I promised to write a certain poly smut thing, so here goes nothing.

All About A Gag Sihtric x Finan x Osfert. Sihtric fakes a gag and Finan is not having it.

Domestic - Lan Mandragoran Lan x Reader, being cute.

One Big Bed Poly Wheel of Time smut. Rand is a slut in this one.

The Pantsident Mark tore his pants. Mark x Reader smut

A Long Drive [Marnas] Mark rips his pants and Arnas makes full use of the situation.

Orgasm Desperation - Stephen Colley Stephen x Reader, with reader making Stephen beg for it.

BoB Sexarama Shameless, plotless smut headcanons.

A3 - Throuple Aethelflead x Aldhelm x Aethelred headcanons

BoB Poly Family BS You get involved with Finan, Sihtric and Osferth and raise children with them. Modern verse, headcanon list

Band of Bebbanburgh - XII - Getting Ink Done Uhtred, Osferth, Finan and Sihtric are getting tatted and Sihtric likes it a bit too well.

First Kiss - Draco Malfoy Set during book six.

First Kiss - Eric Northman Simple as.

Basically every thought I have ever had about Sihtric, but in a pile Full ass headcanon dump on my very fav himbo.

Good Good Good, Good Vibrations Mr F uses a vibe on reader, in public, sorta.

Orgasm Desperation - Game!Lambert Needy Needy Lambertini.

Lambert in the Middle Lambert getting some DP from Eskel and Geralt.

Another Lovely Puppy Pile Reader x Many witchers (and Jaskier)

Band of Bebbanburgh - XI - Tetanus Uhtred 'challenges' Sihtric to catch a pigeon. Hoemboy gets pecked and scratched, but has no tetnaus immunisation, so Finan and Osferth have to wrangle him to go to the dco's. Sihtirc does not like doctors and has to be pacified with sexy times from his boyfriends.

Giving Birth to Sihtric's Child It is not reader's first and it will most certainly not be the last.

TLK Underworld AU Headcanon List about a mafia au of sorts

Finan Eating You Out He's good with his mouth, let's be real

How He Met Me - VI August POV version of The Prophet [fic]

At the Desk - Napoleon Solo Napoleon Solo fucking reader on her desk, Arranged Marriage verse.

Sex in the Changing Room - Modern!Sihtric Raunchy dirty naughty Sihtric fucking reader in the changing rooms of the local clothing store.

On the table - Sihtric Canon verse, he humps you on the table

Sex in the Bath - Captain Syverson Bath sex with Sy

Ever Curiouser - I Hellboy Longfic, polyship.

Some Bebbanboys smut, bc I am nasty Smutty stuff with Sihtric x Finan x Osferth

Ben Daimio x Werewolf Reader A beastly smut

The Bebbanboys Band AU headcanons

Ben Daimio - Sneaking Around Smutty, you and Ben avoid getting caught while fucking on the job

Sweetheart Prompt #3 Ivar Lothbrok, suprise surprise

Band of Bebbanburgh - X - What Sihtric Does Best Smut fest about Sihtric sucking dick

Ulysses Klaue Smut Does exactly what it says on the tin.

No Way We Are Making Homework - Modern Ubbe Modern Ubbe x Reader. You should be making homework, but you are not.

Nasty Nasty Dirty Gross Ubbe CW: Incest Ubbe uses one specific way of making Hvitserk listen.

Ubbe x Alfred - Modern AU Ubbe and Alfred shower together.

This Home I Built - TLK Poly Fest Selfish fix it fic, lotsa smut, mainly about Sihtric.

Santiago Garcia Breeding Kink V1 Santi knocking you up.

Alpha Geralt Going Feral Nasty smut with no excuses

Sihtric - Breeding Kink V1 Sihtric knocking you up

Omega Sihtric Going Feral Needy Omega Sihtric

Alpha Geralt Scenting You Scenting sesh getting out of hand.

Santiago Garcia - Rough Sex Ah yes, more shameless porn with no plot.

Scenting Omega Sihtric Scenting Omega Sihtric gets out of hand.

My Fair Lady Shameless Aldflaed smut

Expectations - Loki Shameless Loki smut

Choking Sam Winchester Reader applying some pressure to a big moose, sexually.

At Saltwick What happened between Sihtric, Finan and Osferth while the kids were asleep.

Sex in Public - Sihtric Canon verse.

Neteyam x Au'Nung Neteyam almost died and Au'Nung is distressed.

Proof That I am an Aweful Person [TLK Poly stuff] More ReaderxPretty Boys headcanons

Fjall Stoneheart - Doggystyle Shameless smut

Band of Bebbanburgh - IX - Seeking Refuge Osferth goes to Finan when his homelife starts turning for the worst.

Breeding V1 - Jake Sully Jake Sully knocking you up.

Band of Bebbanburgh - VIII - Show You How Sihtric teases Osferth how to please Finan

Band of Bebbanburgh - VII - Small Comforts Finan having himself a slice of Sihtric.

Band of Bebbanburgh - VI - Sihtric's Dream Sihtric wakes up from a bad dream and Finan and Osferth put him at ease.

By God(s) and Men - Finan x Sihtric Canon verse; Sihtric and Finan figure out their dynamic.

The Baker's Boy - Finan x Sihtric Modern AU; Finan just realised he's been in love with Sihtric all along.

The Witan - Mark/Arnas/Reader CW: RPF and RPS Established Arnas x Reader and Past Marnas. Arnas convinced reader to come along to a TLK cast vaca and things spin swiftly out on his control.

All Three of Them Reader x Sihtric x Finan x Osferth smut

Threesome with Sihtric and Osferth Shameless smut with a lil twist

Threesome with Sihtric and Finan Dirty smutty smut smut smut

#there is a part three coming #yes I am not yet done #current score: 110

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alexzalben · 1 year

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THE WITCHER: BLOOD ORIGIN TEASER TRAILER AND POSTER ARE HERE

Check 'em out below, as well as a synopsis - and surprise, Joey Batey is back as Jaskier (somehow)!

Set in an elven world 1200 years before the world of The Witcher, Blood Origin will tell a story lost to time - the creation of the first prototype Witcher, and the events that lead to the pivotal conjunction of the spheres, when the world of monsters, men, and elves merged to become one.

Adding a sensational cast to the Witcher Universe, Sophia Brown and Laurence O’Fuarain play Éile and Fjall, two warriors estranged from their opposing clans, Michelle Yeoh takes the role of Scían, a sword master, the last of her tribe, Mirren Mack is Princess Merwyn, Lenny Henry plays Chief Sage Balor, Joey Batey plays Jaskier and Minnie Driver stars as a Seanchaí. Francesca Mills is Meldof, Zach Wyatt and Lizzie Annis are celestial twin sages Syndril and Zacaré. Huw Novelli is Brother Death.

Other supporting cast members include Amy Murray as chief sage Balor’s apprentice Fenrik, Mark Rowley as King Alvitir, Daniel Fathers and Faoileann Cunningham as clan chieftain Osfar and his daughter Ryl. Kim Adis is Merwyn’s handmaid Ket, Nathaniel Curtis portrays Brían, and Dylan Moran is Uthrok One-Nut. Ella Schrey-Yeats portrays the young prophet Ithlinne and her mother Aevenien is played by Claire Cooper.

youtube

#the witcher #blood origin #the witcher blood origin #Youtube

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entropic-saudade · 1 year

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Recent fics and updates:

1) Update to “our love is shown in the letting go,” my Lambden MCD grief fic

2) SPN fic, post-canon Dean/Cas and Sam, coda to Prophet and Loss

3) Short update to Lullabies and other magic series (the magical!Jaskier series)

4) SPN fic, Dean/Cas; TFW watches Paddington and Dean is inspired to make marmalade for Cas.

5) SPN fics, a new multi chapter WIP, Pacific Rim AU fic inspired by the Atomic Heart trailer. Eventual Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, and Claire/Kaia.

#fanfic #my writing #destiel #geraskier #pacific rim AU #fluff #angst #supernatural #the witcher #jaskier #dean winchester

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samstree · 2 years

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hi! i’m a huge fan of your fics, and especially the empath!jaskier and ones, and i was wondering if i could use some of the concepts you have for empath?

i’m writing a marauders story, where james is an empath, and honestly, your version is the best one i’ve come across. i’d be sure to credit you, but i also understand if you say no

i hope you have a wonderful day

Hi! I'm glad you like that fic! I have to be honest that particular idea was taken from an HP fic I read years ago where Ginny is a touch empath and Ron is a prophet. It's called The Final Reckoning and it's on FF.net. I can no longer find it so I never credited it. So feel free to credit me or not, or try to find that fic, and good luck writing! <3

#love messages #you see it all comes a full circle...

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spielzeugkaiser · 2 years

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Kaer Morhen is full of ghosts.

I really wanted to do something slightly spooky, so I continued with the ghost story part were we left prophetic!Jaskier.

He is just haunting(?) Geralt, the others can't see him and Geralt... kept it a secret for now ('cause who would that help? Ciri is too distraught for that information and... what if it ends up not being real. What if it is just in his head, 'cause he can't bear that he killed him, and Jaskier really is gone-)

#mcd #the witcher #the witcher fanart #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #prophetic!jaskier #kaer morhen #ghost!Jaskier #halloween #spoopy season #this is the first time I did something for that day wuhh #meanwhile Jaskier is like: SHIT what if it is just Geralt imagining things?? I've never been a ghost before #how would I know??#*sweats in extoplasma*#(he is very much there)

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

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Just giving a big shoutout to this wonderful gift-giving forest nymph @reveniemus who pre-ordered me TAD’s Ruin album for October 31st! If that little tidbit of information wasn’t clear enough, they’re obviously an awesome person and y’all should stan

When I get the right USB cable for my laptop, I’ll be burning myself a copy of the album onto CD anyhow (don’t worry I’ll be buying that version off iTunes first, Joey and Madeleine are like the only people on planet earth I wouldn’t swindle) so I’ll have to gift you one in return (for ultimate road trip vibes + to not drain phone battery)

I award the highest level of stan ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

#five stars #five stars for generous internet stranger who is a charitable prophet sent from Joey and Madeleine themselves #the amazing devil #tad #the horror and the wild #love run #ruin #Jaskier #Joey Batey #Madeleine hyland

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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There was something peculiar about Jaskier. Not that Geralt could put a finger on it, he didn’t reek of magic or otherness. Everything about him screamed human and yet there was just a strange edge to him. Like a strange piece of glass that allowed most light through in a line but then a tiny fraction was broken off and projected out elsewhere into its own unique patch.

It was small things like Jaskier making a comment about getting to an inn sharpish because the weather was changing. All while it was beautifully sunny. And yet, an hour later, when they were in the comfort and warmth of an inn, the skies would open up.

“Don’t forget your swords!” Jaskier called cheerily after Geralt when he was off to tend to Roach. Sure enough, on the way back, Geralt encountered some ruffians who were harassing a merchant. Just pulling his sword out had them fleeing. And Geralt found himself in possession of a new shirt as thanks for his assistance.

Other times, Jaskier’s suggestions were a little less helpful. He told a rather handsy patron to “watch your back” with a smile that held absolutely no warmth. Three minutes later someone tripped and spilled boiling broth down his back while Jaskier watched, eyes seeming to glow in the light cast by the fire.

It was something Geralt just got used to. He stopped questioning the weird coincidences, they were just things that happened. There wasn’t anything magical about them or Jaskier. He simply had good timing.

“Don’t forget your cloak!” Jaskier held out the item of clothing without even looking up from the notebook he was scribbling in. Grumbling, Geralt took it and slung it over his arm. It was the middle of the summer, there was no way it was going to rain.

It didn’t. But he did encounter his Child Surprise, running alone and scared. The cloak was perfect to disguise her from prying eyes as he took her back to the inn. Maybe Geralt would have felt better if Jaskier had looked surprised rather than take one look at Ciri and smile with a soft “there you are” as if it explained everything.

In the end, Geralt didn’t think about it too much. If Jaskier told him “do be careful” before a contract, Geralt packed extra potions and medical supplies. Even if it was a simple case of a couple of drowners. And, as always, Jaskier was right.

The moment Geralt truly stopped questioning anything was when he was settling Ciri in a tavern and, on his way out of the room, she spoke up.

“Take some oils with you.”

Out of habit, Geralt picked them up, too used to Jaskier’s little prophecies. It was only when the door was shut behind him that Geralt wondered why Ciri had said that. It didn’t matter, he needed to get clean then he would go to bed. The washroom wasn’t empty though, he encountered Jaskier getting clean and they shared a look.

Later, in the darkness of their shared room, Geralt stared at the ceiling, grateful that he’d had the oils with him. That was when he realised. Having Jaskier and his predictions had been bad enough. But shit, now there were two of them.

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt #ciri #the witcher #tldr: jaskier is a prophet on inconsequential things

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wolf-and-bard · 3 years

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The Edge Of The Edge Of The World

Prompt: Human Shield

Relationships: Jaskier/Filavandrel

Rating: M

Content Warnings: some violence, not graphic; implied minor character death

Summary: When Jaskier starts to have the same apocalyptic dream from Filavandrel's point of view over and over again, he decides to go a-looking for the elven-king. He finds Filavandrel in the valley of flowers, finds also that his old crush has not dampened. Just when they are reuniting, they are disturbed by a hired assassin... In which: Filavandrel bears the weight of the world upon his shoulders and Jaskier is drawn to him, helpless to fix it, but willing to try anyway.

Word Count: 4.6k

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo I AO3-Link

It's the dreams that ultimately bring Jaskier back to Dol Blathanna. After everything was said and done - the clutches of the elves escaped, his song written, Geralt pestered - he swore himself not to meddle with Filavandrel and his sundered court ever again. Out of respect, yes, and out of fear, and out of a strange mixture of both. The latter concerns a part of Jaskier that is all lust and greed, and would have been strip-dancing for Filavandrel if it hadn't been for the imminent threat to his and Geralt's lives. Jaskier finds no shame in that, he was eighteen then, but he also isn't quite so certain that upon meeting the elf again, he wouldn't fall prey to those same desires. His heart has a strange way of becoming stuck in time like that. And Jaskier wasn't going to give in and go. He wasn’t going to return to the Valley of Flowers, no matter how often he thought back to his time among the elves, no matter how many sonnets he dedicated to the stern eyes, proud figure, golden locks, and tragic history of one Filavandrel aén Fidháil. He wasn’t. But then the dreams start around the same time that Geralt starts being tossed more prophecies than coin and Jaskier has to attribute some significance to that, right? Destiny tends to meddle in heaps like that and while Jaskier is no firm believer in higher powers, he can see clear as day the strain it puts on Geralt, avoiding it day and night.

On top of that, the dreams repeat. Jaskier never has the same dream twice. He just doesn’t. Only this one, he goes through every night for a fortnight straight and it comes to the point that even Geralt - who's still treating Destiny like his lavatory - calls him out on it. "You've been crying through the night again," he grunts one morning by way of greeting and when Jaskier gently brushes his own cheeks with sweat-sticky fingers, they come away wet. Salty air clings to his nostrils and he sniffles, still caught in the undertow of the great melancholy that suffuses every moment in that other world. The inn room around him feels thin, see-through, and Geralt wavers around the edges, fuzzy like smoke so much so that Jaskier doesn't dare reach out to his friend for fear of him dissolving.

“It seems I have,” he mumbles to himself and glances at his lute. The instrument sits idly in its case, having caught dust as they’ve been away on a three-day hunt for a rabid, enchanted bear, and the ornamental swirls glitter in the first sunlight of the day. Jaskier can feel her like a presence, the same way Geralt can feel his medallion, he suspects. She hums with a similar sort of magic.

A treasure from Filavandrel himself. More than a kingly gift, the instrument serves as a constant reminder. To remember and shut the fuck up about it. Jaskier gets up and ignores Geralt’s confused grunts. He’s in nothing but his smalls still, but this cannot wait.

“Jaskier, are you awake?”

“Yes, yes,” Jaskier says, waving Geralt’s inquiry away. Careful not to upset her – something Geralt would roll his eyes at him for, no doubt – Jaskier picks his lute up by the neck and props his foot up on the chair the case sits on. He balances her on his knee and puts his fingers down on the neck to play the first chord he ever strummed on her. Jaskier does and it sends a jolt through his body.

The notes go straight to his chest and he sobs out loud. More tears stream down his face and he knows he has to heed those dreams. Filavandrel needs him. Jaskier is sure of that.

“There is something I have to do,” Jaskier says and puts the lute back into her case, then turns, scrambling about for his clothes. “A journey I have to take.”

“Jask, you’re crying. Is there… are you… do you need my help?” Geralt’s head is cocked, his eyes wide. Jaskier shakes his head. This is something he has to do on his own. Jaskier gets dressed and wolfs down the breakfast Geralt orders for the both of them, then disappears. He only notices when he’s two days out of town that he forgot to tell Geralt where he’s going. Destiny holds his life in her hands then and Jaskier find he doesn’t mind.

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Jaskier doesn’t know the way to Filavandrel’s halls exactly. It takes him a week or so to travel to Posada where he stops for a rest. The people there remember him, well they remember the white-haired witcher that took care of the devil, but they also remember the bratty bard they threw bread at once prompted, and Jaskier gets a chance to update his reputation with beautiful renditions of his top three songs. They earn him a hearty dinner and a feather-stuffed bed for the night. He sleeps like a rock for the first time in forever, and once more wakes with mournful tears staining his cheeks, his skin thin. The dreams have been more intense, more vivid and real. Jaskier can barely remember what it felt like to wake up without this great grief weighing him down and still, he pastes on a smile. Whistles a tune as he gets ready to search for the elven-king.

Jaskier leaves his horse with the lovely innkeeper in Posada, as well as the rest of his belongings – spare clothes, spare lute strings, his journal – all save for the instrument herself. The woman will keep them save in exchange for his promise to play at her establishment some more to draw customers once he returns. Before he knows it, Jaskier’s out in the valley again, by himself this time. Without Geralt there, the pervading aroma of onion doesn’t subtract from the rich smell of the flowers that are in full bloom all over. It seems Jaskier just about managed to capture the right season for his visit. Colour explosions burst to every side as far as his human eye can see. He is not here for those though, he is here for a very particular flower, and he finds Filavandrel not among his peers, not in the caves that are hidden, interspersed in the jutting hills.

He finds Filavandrel on the edge of the Edge of the World, keeping watch over the valley atop a steep peak. The wind gently ripples through his hair and the beige cloak he wears over his clothes to blend in with his surroundings. His feet are bare, his stare solemn and distant, and Jaskier watches him from behind a boulder for half an eternity.

“Come out, bard. You need not hide nor cower before me ,” Filavandrel says eventually. His voice is soft, low, but the gale carries it to Jaskier’s ears as though the elf was standing right beside him. Jaskier’s heart picks up and he swallows before yielding his spot. He approaches Filavandrel from the side and sinks to one knee when they are mere feet apart, chin pressed to his sternum. To show his enduring respect and to get his facial muscles under control because his eyes prickle as though he’s going to cry again, but his lips want to slip into a grin and his nose itches. Filavandrel is a marvel, even forlorn and lost as he currently stands. Jaskier decides to strike the word beautiful from his vocabulary the moment that Filavandrel places a crooked index finger under his chin and bids him to look up.

The word ought to be reserved for the sight that greets Jaskier, and that sight alone. Filavandrel peers down at Jaskier from under hooded lids, his eyes dark and mysterious. His hair glows molten yellows and golds, tinged orange from the descending sun, and specks of that light dance on his pale cheeks. His long lashes cast shadows, his lips are parted ever so slightly, pink and wet. His throat is sinewy and strong, shifts with the long inhale he draws. Jaskier blushes, thinking that this is not a king, this is a god, and he should be captured in paint and music, and yet, each medium trying to depict his splendour would undoubtedly be a shallow caricature of the true beauty that is before Jaskier. He is about ready to swear an oath of servitude, but his voice fails him.

“Why do you kneel?” Filavandrel asks, breaking the spell with the bitter undertone of suspicion his words carry. “I am not your king.”

“Common courtesy,” Jaskier says and rises to his feet, dusting off his breeches. Filavandrel merely raises a brow, then goes back to staring out at the crashing waves of flowers below. Jaskier takes it as an unspoken invitation to remain, to join him in gazing out at the world. It feels so small, so far away from up here. With bated breath he waits for Filavandrel to say something, anything. Where usually, Jaskier would burst from having too many words, he finds himself coming up short. How does one breech this topic?

‘Yes, hello, I’ve been having terribly crushing dreams from your perspective for the past month. Do tell why, if you please.’

That’s no good.

So, Jaskier waits. And Filavandrel gathers his words and speaks, still so softly, as though he doesn’t want to disturb the peace of Dol Blathanna with crude human words. Falling from his lips, they sound like small caresses, but they still break the clandestine atmosphere.

“What did you do with the life I spared?”

Jaskier glances sideways, gazes at Filavandrel’s set profile for a breath before he answers the question. This is something he has endless words for. How he travelled with Geralt and gained renown for both witcher and bard, how he returned to Oxenfurt to teach and research, start writing papers, and comments, and reviews, and essays, how he’s been trying to appreciate perspectives other than his own and has not been brilliant at it.

“… but first and foremost,” Jaskier concludes on a small smile. “I’ve been pouring my heart into song.” This time, Filavandrel doesn’t hesitate with his answer and his hands clench into fists at his sides, something which Jaskier did not anticipate.

“Tell me then, little scholar,” the elf says. His voice is lightning that crackles under Jaskier’s skin. “Are all of them as deceitful as the one you wrote about our army? Or do you only lie when it caters to the ideology of the masses?”

“Nothing quite so political, I assure you. I sing what I want,” Jaskier replies. If Filavandrel would just look at him, he might be able to read what Jaskier feels. No hostility, no inclination to cause harm. Yes, Toss A Coin was a selfish piece of writing, meant to entice and enthral, embellishing the events in order for it to spread more quickly, but Filavandrel has to realize that it was never meant at the expense of the elves. It was drama, poetry, a story.

“I see.” Jaskier jerks around, half his body turning at Filavandrel’s tingling laugh. What in Melitele’s name?

“Beg pardon?” he asks and finally, Filavandrel meets his eyes. His are pure mirth, lip curled in mischief. He is so fucking divine that Jaskier’s mouth dries up.

“You are a creature of selfish lust, then?”

“Quite,” Jaskier says, grinning and bows his head. He was right about one thing at least, right in his hunch that in the presence of Filavandrel, he would be reduced to a bashful eighteen-year-old boy who is unable to tear his eyes off anything even remotely pretty. With Filavandrel, he thinks he’ll find anyone else lacking.

Filavandrel opens his mouth to say something else, but right then, a hiss cuts through their amusement and they both whirl around to find that they are no longer alone. Someone has joined them, a massive man with a silver medallion gleaming atop his breast. In each hand he holds a knife and his teeth are bared in a growl, his head bald. Two swords, strapped to his back, gleam in the sun.

Oh fuck.

A witcher.

And he doesn’t seem in the mood for talking.

Jaskier’s body takes over for him and he builds himself up between the approaching figure and Filavandrel.

“Stop right there,” he says and mentally pats himself on the back for how steady his voice comes out. The witcher halts, staring at Jaskier with his head cocked and his form blots out the low-hanging sun. Jaskier stands his ground, arms and legs wide, but his only weapon is his glare, the set of his mouth. Don't, he thinks. Don't. They don't stand a chance. Geralt already has the capability to crush Jaskier's neck in a strong grip if he so wishes, this man looks like he could lift a leg and flatten Jaskier to the earth with one precise step. Filavandrel wouldn't fare much better even if he had steel on him. They are doomed.

“I’m here to kill a king,” the witcher says and his voice rattles like a cart full of armour being pulled across a cobbled street. “Step aside, human, and your life will be spared.”

“I will not.”

The witcher musters him for another long minute, then shrugs. Tucking one of his knives under his beefy bicep, he shoots out his hand. A blast of air hits Jaskier and he’s thrown backward into Filavandrel. They’re not close enough to the edge that they fall off, but the blow forces them to the ground. Jaskier is quick to get into a crouching position before the fallen king, arms open wide once more. The witcher approaches, his glare punctuating Jaskier’s resolve. But no, he will die if he must, die if it means preserving that which he cherishes so.

“Bard,” Filavandrel says under his breath. “You’re being foolish.”

“No such thing,” Jaskier replies. The witcher stomps ever nearer, blades raised, but before he can attack, a whirring noise fills the air and a dagger buries itself in the witcher’s left eye socket, buries itself to the hilt.

“HNNN FUCK,” the witcher yowls and pulls the knife out, casting it aside. He stumbles about blindly, his hands pressed to his face and Jaskier jumps to his feet. This is about the only opportunity they will have if they want to come out of this alive. He hurries over to the witcher and shoves. There is no way a bard like him has enough power to topple over a giant like this, but the witcher is already off-kilter and he doesn’t expect the push. He barely catches himself, still howling through his pain and Jaskier follows the few steps he takes backward and in doing so, gets caught by the flailing arm of the witcher. He winces as pain breaks out across the side of his face, but he pushes again.

The witcher teeters where the hill falls away sharply, and Jaskier has no time to think about how he’d rather not be hurting this man. He gives one last determined shove and with a yelp, the witcher tumbles over the edge and rolls down the mountainside in a cacophony of crashes and dust, branches breaking and rocks rolling after him. His cries fill the valley until, with a suddenness that is jarring, they stop.

Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, panting hard. Fuck. Fuck, he might have just killed a man and he doesn’t feel guilty one bit. He is here to protect Filavandrel, he understands that now. Understands that that’s what the dream was about. To protect Filavandrel and to be his advocate. It’s an unsettling certainty, one that only Destiny can have created. Jaskier sighs, thinks up a silent prayer for the fallen man and mentally apologizes to Geralt for hurting one of his kin.

“That was an impressive showing of determination,” Filavandrel says. Jaskier opens his eyes again and squares his shoulder. The elf has picked up his dagger and is cleaning it on his cloak which he has pulled off to reveal a simple set of faded blue linen clothes. He looks at Jaskier, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth and Jaskier bows low.

“My king,” he says.

“Come with me.” A hand on his arm that tugs lightly. Jaskier’s blinks, but lets himself be guided by Filavandrel. “I know somewhere were we will not be interrupted again.”

---

Filavandrel’s rooms – which section off from the ones Geralt and Jaskier were held in last time – are barely more than a hollow in the mountains, furnished with a narrow cod and few planks of wood that have been nailed to the stone opposite it. The elf has Jaskier sit down on the hard straw mattress, then disappears for a short time to retrieve a wet cloth. “Who was he?” Jaskier asks when Filavandrel returns and crouches before him so that they are on eye-level. His face aches properly now and he suspects that a plethora of bruises is already blooming on the side the witcher caught with his fist.

“You are the one who congregates with witchers,” Filavandrel replies. Jaskier huffs indignantly. “I only really know one of them and we don't congregate so much as keep company.” “Really?” Filavandrel raises a brow as he dabs Jaskier's jaw with the cool cloth. It soothes some of the sting and he sighs. “Does that shock you? Geralt wouldn't let me touch him with a fishing rod,” Jaskier laughs. It’s not true exactly, they have touched of course. It is inevitable when travelling together, but the kind of touch they’re referring to has been strictly off the table. “How very unreasonable,” Filavandrel laughs and brushes back Jaskier's hair to access his forehead. His hands are gentle, his smile shy and Jaskier finds himself blushing. This is another Filavandrel altogether. Not the rageful king that almost had him and Geralt executed, nor yet the solemn figure atop the hill. He’s sweet and teasing. Oh, dear. “Tell me, little scholar, do you want to touch him?” “Are you asking me if I want to fuck him or if I have feelings for him?”

“Both. Either. No matter.”

“Ah… well, I find myself tempted ever so often, but the feeling does not endure and any sexual draw I feel to him is not worth risking the friendship we share. Of course, his attractiveness stands in no comparison to your beauty.” “It is a non-human fetish then?” Filavandrel asks. He wipes Jaskier’s forehead one more time, then puts aside the cloth. “Brought that upon myself, didn't I?” They both laugh, Jaskier shaking his head, Filavandrel privately, behind his hands. Jaskier wants to pry it away, wants every bit of that laugh for his eyes and ears to feast on, a remnant of the bells of the elven towers of old, wants this beauty, but for once in his life, Jaskier practices restraint. He basks in another few seconds of shared delight, then catches Filavandrel's gaze again. “Who hired that witcher?” “Doesn't matter who hired him, there's always a price on my head,” Filavandrel grumbles and Jaskier could kick himself for killing the light chirping laughter, for turning this conversation back to a serious avenue. But he had to, didn’t he? Because a witcher almost killed them both and the dreams are still in the forefront of his mind. “Always a price.” With that, the elf gets up and starts to pace the small perimeter of his room. Jaskier watches every step. "You can share your pain with me,” he offers. "So you can fashion pretty rhymes from it? No thank you. I will pay you in gold,” Filavandrel snaps, eyes distant now. So very changeable, strange for one so old. But Jaskier supposes that Filavandrel lives in extraordinary circumstances. "Pay me?" he asks weakly.

“That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? More… of us. More of our artefacts, our names, our stories, our emotions. More for you to accessorize and capitalize on, more to feed your disgustingly human greed with. I gave you your life and your lute and you stayed away for how long? Nigh on two decades. What will it take for the next two?”

Both elf and human glance at the lute that is propped up in the corner upon Filavandrel mentioning it. The instrument has survived the scrap without harm, not even a speck of dust on it. Jaskier’s fingers itch for it, but he folds them in his lap. Two decades, yes, twenty years in which he’s had time aplenty to think. Churn over the events of those days when Geralt was but a stranger and Filavandrel an enemy, an outlandish creature sprung straight from Jaskier’s lecture notes. Now, Geralt is Jaskier’s oldest friend and Filavandrel is… a god descended. A god that has been battered and beaten, treated like a dog. Fuck, but Jaskier is not here to uphold the tradition of exploitation and near-to-kin-slaying. He is here because after traversing the maze of his thoughts and closing the covers on his books, Jaskier cares. He cares, he treasures, he worships, he loves. He loves so much. Jaskier looks up at Filavandrel until the elf can’t help but return the gaze. His eyes are wide, wild.

"Have you had dreams of late?" Jaskier asks simply.

A breath. And then: "What do you know of it?”

"Let me paint a picture for you, golden one, then you can decide what I have come here for.”

Filavandrel considers him, inclines his head a fraction as if to listen for the backstabs Jaskier is trying to veil with his words. The cavernous halls are eerily silent and finally, Filavandrel gestures for Jaskier to speak. Jaskier clears his throat.

“It is like this: You open your eyes and you stand upon the very hill we just got attacked on, all by yourself. Before you, you see a firmament in bleeding reds and yellows into which the grey ink of the end days has been spilled. At your feet, a vast desolation, hundreds turned to dust, obliterated by your hands, and it still does not satisfy your hatred for the humans. You feel as though upon your shoulders, you carry the weight of all those who have come before you, all those who are yet to perish. Each step you may take, in whatever direction, feels like the last. There is thunder in the distance, but it is not of this world. It rumbles off-key, distorted and cacophonous, and you try to catch that sound in your own throat to guess at its origin. You can’t. There are cries of woe also, just beyond the next peak, and you are determined to absolve those souls of their agony. You begin to walk, are weighed down, your limbs burn and your knees tremble. No matter how badly you try to reach that place from whence the pain stems, you make no progress. Your back aches so much, so fucking much. All you want is to lay down your crown and die. The world may well splinter and vaporize around you and still, duty would bind you to remain and see your people safely through the gates of heaven. You feel alone. So very alone,” Jaskier concludes, the last words naught more than a whisper. Tears stream down him his cheeks.

"How?" Filavandrel sobs and claps a hand over his mouth.

"Trade secret."

"Who are you?"

"A friend.”

“And what do you want from me?”

“To share some of your burden as I have been sharing in your dreams. To save your people.”

“There is no salvation for us, little scholar, none at all,” Filavandrel says, voice trembling.

“Filavandrel of the edge of the world,” Jaskier says and stands up. “Filavandrel of the pain of the gods.” He takes a step towards the dumbstruck elf. “Filavandrel the kind-hearted and trustworthy.” Another step. “Filavandrel of the old tragedies.” A foot separates them and Jaskier reaches out to gently cup Filavandrel’s jaw. “Filavandrel of the dawn of a new age.” He brings up his other hand, cradling the elf-king’s face in his lute-worn hands as though it is a precious piece of china. Jaskier smiles softly and wipes at Filavandrel’s tears with his thumbs. “Just take your pick and I will write you into the stream of history,” he finishes. Filavandrel squeezes his eyes shut.

“You don’t have that kind of power,” he says. “You simply cannot change our fate.”

“I can make you beloved. Immortal.” Jaskier leans closer, ever closer, but he doesn’t dare break the barrier between them, not when Filavandrel looks so very pained. More so when he softly utters his next words.

“That is what you don’t get. What would I be but an exception to prove the rule? Even if you turned the tide of human hatred in my favour, they’d still murder my kin and I would stand alone because I had been dubbed friend-of-men. You would make my dream turn reality.” “I don’t-“

“I do not begrudge you the ambition,” Filavandrel cuts in and the sun of a chuckle breaks through the heavy tapestry of clouds over his face. He shakes his head as his eyes flutter open, and one hand comes up to wrap around Jaskier’s wrist where’s he’s still cupping the elf’s cheeks. “I was perhaps wrong to judge you by the standards of your species when the crime you have committed is a rather personal one.”

“And what crime is that?”

“That fetish we spoke of, of course. Though I cannot tell whether your infatuation is genuine or whether you are but a magpie.” Jaskier's mouth feels dry and his gaze drops to the pretty curve of Filavandrel's lips. He lets go of his face, touches one of Filavandrel's silken curls and wraps it around his pinkie as he holds the king's gaze. He can’t think of a retort to that, not even an earnest one. "Is this your wit's end, little scholar? Is this where words fail you?" "Kiss me," Jaskier replies in a surge of confidence. It's insanity, even with the weird carnival of feelings they've gone through today. Insanity. It's also the right thing to say, apparently. Filavandrel leans closer and kisses him softly, holding onto Jaskier's shoulders and Jaskier reaches for the elf's hips to steady himself. He inhales sharply when Filavandrel deepens their kiss. The poet in Jaskier hoped he would taste like flowers or honey or sunshine or anything worth putting in a ballad. The romantic in Jaskier rejoices in how perfectly sweet and slow their kiss is, how they both close their eyes and lose themselves in the simplicity of the connection. The realist in Jaskier – and he is very quiet and small – knows this is fragile. A moment suspended in time and bound to pass. After a while, Filavandrel pulls back, a small smile playing about his features and he traces Jaskier's reddened lips with his thumb. "I could be your consort," Jaskier blurts out. Filavandrel laughs and steals another kiss. "The valley isn't entirely safe at night so you may stay until the morning," he says and lets go. "And after that?" "After that you return to your books and your songs and your witcher." "And you?" "I will try to make sense of these dreams. I will find a way for my people to survive. And I will cherish the sentiments you offered, useless though they may be. Come now, little scholar, come to bed."

#jo does wrsb #my writing #jaskier #filavandrel #jaskier x filavandrel #prompt: human shield #depictions of violence #letho of gulet #geralt #yes i was channeling thranduil don't judge me #letho is alive btw #alive and thriving #angst #fluff #first kiss #prophetic dreams

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somethingveryodd · 2 years

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My Writing Masterlist

COMPLETED

Hole to Feed

Harry Potter meets The Menu| Explicit | Draco/Harry| 34k

Draco tunes them all out, watching as they fly through the water, when familiarity on his glass catches his eyes. The writing – because it’s writing, he realises, when he brings the glass closer – is barely there, blink and you’d miss it. But he would never miss it: the writing is in his dreams, under his fingernails, in his blood. It’s runes.

The Malfoy-Black Foundation is celebrating its 25th anniversary. But why does the whole staff consist of Hogwarts graduates? And why does Chef Evans seem familiar?

Harry Potter meets The Menu (2022)

here as I am

Stranger Things| Mature| Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | 5.8k

He was always good at holding his desires back, hauling them behind a fence of his ribcage. They try to crawl through the bones, but they get buried underneath, in the soil of Steve’s body. Releasing them feels too selfish and his ribs have held his heart intact for so long he doesn’t remember how to react on the impulse.

Four years after their last meeting, Steve goes with Robin and the kids to a music festival not knowing who's the headliner (it's Eddie.)

We Will Fill the Cracks Together

Harry Potter | Mature | Sirus/Remus | 23k

Remus works in a library and at his parents pub in a small, Welsh town.

Sirius Black is doing his PhD on werewolves and comes to a small, Welsh town to do some research.

Waiting Words

Harry Potter | Explicit | Sirus/Remus | 19k

Once upon a time, during their seventh year at Hogwarts Sirius Black kissed Remus Lupin, which turned out to be a year long fling. However, now a decade or so after both men think that it might have been more than that but they're too dumb to take any action. Fortunately they have good friends who try to talk some sense into them during James and Lily's vow renewal in a small Scottish B&B Oh, and there's no Voldemort in this world, everybody is very happy and alive.

Newspaper Blues

The Witcher | Explicit | Jaskier/Geralt | 21k

Working in the industry as a music journalist is tough, more so if your co-worker is one of the most famous journalists himself, is handsome and asks you for a favour.

That's the dice that life has thrown to Jaskier, but at least the man knows that when you get lemons you should made a god damn lemonade out of them.

And that's what he will do. When he gets all the clues. Or if.

Don’t You Know?

Harry Potter | Teen | Draco/Harry | 19k

Harry just wants a case that isn't filled with politics, Daily Prophet's journalists, and all the stuff that includes taking photographs (of him) and interviews (of, also, him). He wants to show that he is a good Auror, that this line of work is where he is supposed to be. He begs for a new case, something with less press. He gets one. What he also gets is one curse breaker, and apparent fairy expert, Draco Malfoy.

fire in your soul

Harry Potter | Explicit | Sirus/Remus | 40k

Remus would love to be calm about Saturday mornings like this one; him on the couch, drinking his perfectly made coffee, eating omelette that Sirius made and listening to the sexual exploits of the man he has been in love with for the better part of his life. He is fine. (He has a pillow, a big and fluffy one, that covers his entire face and perfectly mutes all sounds. He will use it to scream into it, in anguish; until his throat is raw, until the only words he can speak are whispers, until his heart will stop bleeding for a second, until his bones aren’t hollow and aren’t filled with the sheer pain of existence. He has done this before and will do it again. He is, in fact, not fine)

Remus Lupin, in love with Sirius for years, finally snaps. After an argument he decides to leave everything behind and travel the world with a botanist, Theodora Allen, as her secretary slash researcher slash helper. He realizes that there's more to life than he ever thought and maybe, in fact, people can change for the better.

The Gods Among Us

Hades | Teen | Zagreus/Thanatos | 3k

Time passess. Thanatos never knows how much of it, he’s never sure, he never has checked. But if there’s one thing that work has taught him is that, with time, things change.

A little character study of Thanatos, stretched throughout the game.

Sober

Bond | Teen | James Bond/Q | under 1k

Q is too sober for this mission.

Whistle

The Witcher | Teen | Jaskier/Geralt | under 1k

“Well, thank you Jaskier for saving my life!” He says, half mockingly and half absolutely not, as he tries to stand up from the ground. His foot gets caught in something and he prays to gods its not some poor fellows bones.

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thebadboyfanclub · 3 years

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The Dream (Geralt x Reader)

Do I have other requests I need to write? Yes, however if I didn’t get this off my system I can’t focus on anything else, so here it goes. Enjoy!

T.W This is my interpretation of nymphs, I don’t want to hear if it’s accurate or not.

Being a Naiads nymph meant to be in tune with nature and water, maintain the peace and harmony with the river, protect it and worship it like it deserved and anyone would pity the man that harmed the rivers and lakes that are protected by them. However the ones that respected it meant that they would in the nymphs good graces, to drink of the water of the naiads river meant to be inspired, madmen, barbs and prophets had told a plethora of stories about the enchanting delicate nymphs.

(Y/n) loved her place in this world, her sisters and the other creatures lived a peaceful life, yet something was missing. A lot of them had witnessed some couples that found sanctuary near the water and had seen them intertwine and let the fiery passion take over them, oh to be in love and worshipped.

“Geralt you might be all indestructible and all but your blood is staining roach”

The lively barb joked loudly enough for the nymphs' to hear. Without even discussing it they all took cover and hid as quickly as they possibly could, of course the humans were aware of the nymphs existence, nonetheless the cruel ones have been known to try and kidnap or harass them.

Geralt was feeling the pain from the wound get more and more intense and it was just his luck that he had just ran out of healing potions, he did not expect that vicious creature to be such a fighter. Dawn was slowly approaching and was hot on their trail, they wouldn’t make it to the next village before dark and thieves could be waiting for them.

“Fine, we stop here”

“Excellent, at least we can wash on the water”

“Don’t even go near, naiads are guarding the water”

“Naiads? What is that?”

“Nymphs fool”

“Nymphs?! Oh it must be my birthday, I heard they are the most beautiful of creatures”

The childlike Jaskier claimed happily, as Geralt got down from his horse and neatly tied it on the tree he wished to have never showed kindness to the annoyingly optimist barb that was calling the nymphs and was taking off his shoes to jump in the crystal clear river. Geralt was just on time to grab him from the collar mid air and pull him back to ground, Jaskier misstopping and falling down on his back with a thud.

“What was that for?”

“You fool, you have to ask them permission and let them show themselves or else they will drown you”

“That’s not very nice of them now isn’t it?”

“Don’t make me throw you in the water Barb”

As nightfall completely took over (y/n) watched them from afar, hiding behind the bushes and half of her face out of it to take a good look at the two men, specifically the white hair muscular man. She could smell his blood, he was severely wounded and tired, her little heart was starting to beat faster every time he spoke with that deep voice

“Sister, get back here, they could be dangerous”

“He respected our river sister, he respects us”

“He is a witcher, he kills creatures”

“Harmful creatures, he protects us from dangerous beasts”

“Don’t tell me you have gotten interested in a mutant”

Her blond hair sister questioned (y/n). Her sisters were all aware of her desire to fall in love, to be like the couples, she had the chance to marry demi gods yet she raised her nose to them and denied herself, she wanted nothing to do with those stuck up pesky little men.

“He is hurt”

“He will survive it’s what they do... fine, stay here and watch”

And that’s what she did, stayed and watched them slowly drift off to blissful slumber. That is when she got the brilliant idea, she would help him, heal him, he had respected her grounds, saved his mortal friend from punishment, he deserved her help.

She approached them silently and swiftly through the other side of the river, her breath getting uneven the closer she got to him, he looked so handsome from afar, he was even more perfect when she got next to him. His hand was over his wound on his stomach, a nasty deep slice that looked like it had just stopped bleeding not even moments ago, his face was not peaceful, his brows were furrowed and he would let a groin from time to time, even at his sleep the cut was torturing him

As she gently took his hand off the wound she placed hers over it, feeling the power run through her delicate fingers and to his body.

“Who are-”

“Shhhh, I’m not here to harm you, I mean no harm”

Her voice was like sweet honey to his ears, you can imagine his surprise when he felt a hand to his body and opened his eyes to meet an ethereal creature, her hair fell so effortlessly in her face, yet her eyes pierced his soul, those hues that showed such kindness and purity that lived in her, her sweet smile that made those perfectly shaped lips of hers curl could be the source of the sweetest nectar anyone in this world would ever taste. Her skin glistered under the moonlight, she was an angel sent for him in his dream.

“Rest witcher, you are safe here”

She couldn’t resist anymore, her hand almost acted on its own when she reached to caress his cheek with the back of her fingers, slowly and gently. His hot skin made hers crave more than just a once in a lifetime touch, his flesh was like drug to hers.

He went to speak when they heard Jaskier start shuffling, a big chance of him waking up startled her. She quickly turned to Geralt and placed a kiss on his Forehead, it could be the last time she ever saw him she had to let him off with some sort of intimacy.

“Goodnight”

“No wait”

Before he could even move the girl was gone, vanished from thin air and leaving him high and dry, he groaned as he let his head touch the ground once again. It was even a minute before he went back to sleep, wondering what was that creature that had helped him and swooned him with just one look.

“IT’S A MIRACLE”

Geralt woke up by the defeating voice of the barb. As he opened his eyes a few strands of sunlight hit him in the face, he was almost ready to feel the great pain in his abdomen when he realized the pain never came.

“Geralt I have to give it to you, I wasn’t sure if you could heal that time of wound. Look at you! All cleaned up and ready to go”

“What?”

As he sat up he took a look at his stomach, the tear in his clothes was there, yet no scar, no blood, like it was never there. He was healed, just like the girl in his dream said

“You know I was scared, you were talking in your sleep”

“I did?”

“Yes, in a... girly way. You almost fooled me I thought we had company, yet when I woke it was just you”

“The dream”

“What dream now?”

“I saw a girl, an angel"

All that was heard was the laugh of Jaskier, he had grown tired of being the only one that talked about a lady and being met with the dissapointed look of his witcher friend Geralt.

(Y/n) on the other side of the river felt her heart stop when she heard him call her an angel, of course the nymphs were known for their beauty, she had heard compliments that would make any woman blush over the years, still it was different when it came from him. It meant something to her when it came from him

"An angel, you were hallucinating Geralt? Well I don't blame you, that cut was nasty so it probably took all your might to heal it"

"Or just a thank you to your healer"

That sweet voice. Geralt turned his head immediately when he heard it, it was her, the girl that he saw at night, the angel in his dream, she was now in broad daylight approaching him. Jaskier that was standing was now seated, completely stunned by the awfully gorgeous woman that was quickly coming to them.

As she rose from the river Geralt and Jaskier felt her immaculate presence and their eyes fell almost simultaneously to her body, she was covered by a piece of see through white dress, that barely covered what was necessary. Her body was as perfect as the rest of her, it was like a woman out of a painting came to life, as her hair fell in front of her breasts, teasing them.

"Holly.... They weren't lying"

"excuse me?"

"the prophets, the songs, nymphs are really"

"you haven't seen a nymph before?"

She questioned. Her voice was more melodic than anything any bard- especially Jaskier- had ever sung. She stood in front of this men, so graciously that she made them feel uncomfortable by just being around her.

"no no I have not. I'm Jaskier"

"oh yes, the eager barb that wanted to jump in."

It was the first time Geralt had ever seen Jaskier blush, he was thankful of that blush because it made the girl laugh, her laugh was also like the best of music, she was a fairytale to look and be around to.

"It's alright dear, my sisters will allow you to go in. Right sisters?"

As she said that, the men saw other girls letting themselves out of their spots, one by one came closer and some of them giggling at the baffled man.

"this is.... Exquisite, excuse me dear"

As he kissed her hand he was gone in a bling of an eye and in a few seconds you heard the splash he made when his body hit the water.

Geralt had just gotten on his feet, no doubt the other nymphs were pretty as well, gorgeous as one would say, yet he was mesmerized by the one standing in front of him. She was looking over at the river, her profile was all he could see when he made a few steps to come near her

"I thought you were a dream"

"I didn't want to wake you... Geralt"

He had never been more excited to hear his name come out of someone's mouth. The gruff, cold man was now swooning over a female he had only seen once in his life.

"Thank you for healing me"

"you respected us, it was the least we could do"

"is that the only reason?"

She turned to look at him, she wasn't that much shorter than him. If he could be certain no one was watching he would had gotten her on his horse and hit the road with her, what has gotten into him? Just one look from those... Diamond like eyes and he was ready to leave with her. As he kept looking at her he felt a smile forming in his lips, his usual stiff characteristics had soften, all because of her

"Such pretty eyes"

She whispered to him. It was the first time he had received a compliment for his eyes, the color of his eyes was a sign on what he was, of what he did.

"what's your name?"

"(y/n)"

She introduced herself as she made a step, filling the small space between them. As he felt her skin against his clothes he tried to not show any type of emotion, he was enchanted by her. She once again reached and caressed his face, her skin felt so soft against his, making him relax and enjoy it.

"I've never met someone like you Geralt"

"A witcher?"

"A noble witcher, you are so rare"

Part two

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