#I think Jaskier would be so proud of him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tielmamon · 8 months

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Part 2

"Oh- wh- hold on now, thought we were playing for fun?" Jaskier watches Ciri deplete his monitary resources with the sweetest smile, and truly he finds that he doesn't mind.

"I assure you, it truly is a delight taking your coin." He puts on an annoyed face and snatches her cards back just to squeeze another laugh out of her. Gods know this girl needs a bit of levity in her life right now. He wasn't good at a lot of things, realistcally. He's not skilled with a sword, not a pinch of chaos in him, but making people laugh? That he can do.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." He glances at her, honestly more proud than anything else. Princess Cirilla of Cintra, a fiesty spark of a girl turned warrior. He wasn't there for her initial adjustment with Geralt for...obvious reasons but in the years when he was there, he's seen how brave and noble and irrefutably powerful she is. All that hurt and pain turned into pure determination. She's a flame, just like her mother. And most of all, Jaskier sees so much of his best friend in her. Not just the stubbornness to do good or fierce protectiveness over those she loves, but also the little things that make his heart ache. How she holds her sword, how she likes her meat, hell even how she walks. Undoutably a reflection of her parent's love and guidance.

Her parents...

The sharpness in his chest returns. Its strange. Years and years of loving Geralt had eventually reformed his once raging, constantly ready-to-burst love into a calm, surrendered sort of feeling. It's not that his love for the man lessened. On the contrary, every year he feels them grow and evolve into something more. Knowing that heartbreak was inevitable had given him a bittersweet sort of peace. So the pain in his chest that flares whenever he sees Geralt so openly love Yen faded with time, leaving a dull ache in its place.

Until now.

"I'm sorry you're here with me, instead of at the party." Ciri brings him out of his thoughts. He simply shakes his head.

"Oh, I'm not." In all honestly, he was a bit annoyed that everyone and their mother seemed to be invited to this conclave except him but then he remembers Geralt and Yennefer going together. He could only imagine what fancy, no doubt monochromatic outfit Yen would force Geral to wear. Then again, if Yennefer was the one asking he doubts Geralt would protest. Not as much as he would with him, anyway-

He cuts that train of thought before it sends him spiraling. He had worked so hard to keep himself incheck, keep his feelings to a minimum. To not feel, or at the very least look like the lovesick fool he was before.

"Valdo's off key warblng would make my ears bleed." He settles on a believable and admittedly true excuse. Valdo's overdramatic (even for him) vocals are definitely a factor, but he'd rather listen to that noise for days than watch Geralt dance Yennefer across the ballroom with that soft, painfully besotted look on his face. He might actually die of heartbreak if he does.

"Besides, I'm better off here." He smiles at her, reassuredly. He sees the princess sit up straighter, patting the spot beside her. He raises an eyebrow but sits down nontheless.

"Jask?"

"Yes, coin thief?"

"Does he know?" He feels his heartbeat pick up. He's sure than his body is noticibly tenses, judging by how Ciri looks at him like a kicked fucking puppy.

"Does who know what?" He knows what she's asking, because what else could she mean? But like a coward, he deflects. He turns to humor because really, thats his weapon of choice. She looks at him with such a sad look and he knows he's caught.

"Does Geralt know you love him?" Deflect. Run. Don't answer-

"Of course he knows I love him. He's my best friend." He prays that his answer is enough. It seems like it isn't .

"Jaskier." He is still and silent, almost like how the man in question often is. In the end, he finds that he's tired of lying about what he feels. So, he talks.

"I think so, yes. Pretty hard thing to miss after the years of songs and poetry and...well, you get the picture." He sees her face drop, and a certain panic sets in.

"Ciri- listen, I would never ever try and break up your parents, okay? I-I would never do that to your family." He says in a rush, desperate for her to realizes. Because yes, as much as he loves Geralt, he would never jeopardise this. They were quite literally destined to be together, and if Jaskier feels like his chest is being ripped out by a wyvern everytime he sees them then thats his problem, not theirs.

"You're part of this family too, you know." Jaskier has only ever been truly speechless a handful of times in his life. But when he feels her bring him into a hug far nicer than he technically deserves right now, he finds that he can't bring himself to say anything because gods, he wishes it were true. That he was part of this group. This family and not just a stray thread, waiting to be cut off and thrown away once again.

"You're family too." He nods weakly, a few tears spilling from his eyes. Smaller hands, not yet calloused by swords or spells brush a few tears from his cheeks using the blanket. He laughs wetly, complaining how dusty the blanket is, making him cry more which was definitely the real reason and not anything else.

"And I'm not upset at you Jaskier. I'm upset for you. I don't like seeing you hurt like this..." He sees her brows furrow, hands pulling away to clutch the covers. He chuckles, wiping away the rest of his tears.

"Oh, how lucky a man am I. To have such a fierce warrior-witcher-mage princess protecting me." He smiles but her frown doesn't waver. She adjusts herself on the bed to face him properly, laying on her side and slipping a hand to hold his.

"I'm serious Jaskier! You're happiness is important too." He squeezes the hand on top of his, mustering up enough courage to smile.

"My dear, I am happy with what I have now."

"Liar." He gasps, bringing a hand to his heart. She smiles, just a bit and he counts that as a win

"I would never!" He allows himself to breath when he sees her chuckle. He's exhausted, truly. His body feels heavy with the weight of his emotions and physical exhaustion of the day. Still, there is a determined princess cuddled up infront of him with furrowed brows and a sad look on her face that simply cannot wait until morning.

"We do not choose who we love in this lifetime. I didn't choose to fall inlove with my best friend the same way Geralt didn't choose to not reciprocate those feelings. Which is okay, because-...because my love for your father isn't one that seeks a reply. It simple is." Ciri recalls her memories.

Memories from Geralt and her in the woods, running and overwhelmed and terrified. She remembers Geralt telling her stories of his best friend- an obnoxious bard that told the best stories even though they weren't entirely true. The look of guilt and sadness and longing her father suprise had when he told her about him. The few tears she saw him shed behind a crack in the door the night he finally gathered up the courage to apologize to Jaskier for everything. She had never seen him so devastated.

The grin he didn't even bother to hide when Jaskier had offhandedly called him darling when he asked for the salt.

"But what if there is a reply? What if he does love you?" Jaskier shakes his head, looking down to his lap.

We could head to the coast...

Get away for a while...

Composing your next song?

No...No, just trying to work out what pleases me...

Jaskier bears his heart to Geralt on that mountain top. He doesn't breathe, doesn't dare look away. He waits and hopes and gods above, he loves so hard it hurts. Maybe just this once, he'll be enough. Maybe they could run away from this, from everything just for a year. Maybe-

Geralt stands and leaves. Jaskier turns and sees him disappear in Yennefer's tent.

"Darling, that's impossible." He smiles sadly, playing with her fingers. The memory of then mountain and all other instances of him and Geralt replay like an old song. He knew the melody and each lyric by heart by now.

"But Jaskier I've-" Ciri startles when Jaskier’s hand claps with hers loudly and suddenly. Her palm barely stings but she gets the hint to stop talking.

"I have his friendship. I have a-a family apparently, in you and Yen. That is...more than I ever dreamed of having. You all are more than enough for me." Ciri regards him for a moment, staring at him like she's reading his soul. Whatever she sees seems to satisfy- atleast for now, because she sighs and lays a head on his shoulder.

"You too." He leans back, cheek brushing her temple as they stare at the flames of the fireplace.

"Thank you." He pretends to believe her.

Part 1 (x)

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #unrequited???#one sided love???#maybe not #Geralt sending mixed signals #poor baby jaskier #fanfic

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starfirewildheart · 4 months

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The Wolf and the Flame

Chapter 4

Summary: Geralt had just found Ciri and was headed to Kaer Morhen when something drew him into the woods. He found a woman near death and things changed for them all. (I suck at summaries just read please!) Yennefer is bad in the start of this but she and Geralt work on their friendship. Eskel is a dick at first but there is a reason and it works out. Will have a happy ending. Ciri is younger here than in the netflix show. She is about 12.

Warnings: abuse history, injuries, hurt comfort, no one under 18 to be safe, will add when I need to

Words: 2,992

Chapter 4

Naurel got out of bed as soon as she was positive that Ciri and the others in the next room were asleep. She sat down by the fire in the small fireplace to warm her freezing body. Thoughts and emotions battled in her head and heart until she wanted to scream for them to stop. Should she tell Geralt she wanted to be left here? Run for it and not say anything? That wasn’t an option really because Geralt kept saying they were connected in some way and he needed to understand why. The sky was starting to lighten just before the sunrise by the time she’d made her choice. She’d heard Geralt yelling then storm out slamming the door shortly after she had gone into Ciri’s room and hadn’t heard him come back. If she was lucky she would be able to slip out unnoticed.

She made it out of the Inn without incident only because the witcher was still gone. Releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding she headed to take care of some business. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when she had completed her deeds. “Thank you for letting me ride you,” she said softly to the paint horse whose reins she gripped in her right hand. Roach and Ciri’s gray mare Lady were both on her left, leads being held together. She smiled when Roach nudged her with her nose as if to say ‘good job’ for talking to her new mount. “I’m not a good rider. I’ve never ridden without Geralt,” she admitted. “I’m still not physically healed but I promise to do the best I can and to get you treats whenever possible.” They had arrived at the Inn and she latched Lady and Roach’s reins to the hitching post before turning to her horse and trying to get in the saddle. It caused her too much pain to try and lift her weight into the stirrup and it also made her angry at herself for not healing faster. Damn her body and her weakness. How was she going to do this without help because if Geralt knew she was still hurting this badly he’d insist she ride with him so he could protect her and she wasn’t about to take his attention from his mate so soon after their reuniting.

Biting her bottom lip she looked around for something to help when her eyes settled on the building across the street with a raised porch. Guiding her horse over she positioned her so that she was sideways next to the wooden structure then climbed the steps and approached the horse that way. She didn’t have to lift herself off the ground but throwing her leg over took her breath for a moment. Her horse wickered and huffed but stayed still. “Good girl,” she praised and scratched her neck. “Now let's try this whole moving thing huh?” Naurel clicked her tongue and gave the mare's sides a small tap. “Oh gods!” she softly squealed as they started moving. Deciding it would be good to experiment now instead of in front of everyone she pulled the reins to the left then to the right and was quite proud of herself when a sudden voice nearly caused her to fall.

“Where do you think you're going?” Geralt demanded as he grabbed hold of the halter on her horse. He was pissed that she was leaving but he’d suspected it would happen after last night. Yennefer and Jaskier both promised to keep an eye out for her until he returned. Looks like they did a magnificent job.

“Nowhere,” her voice was soft but sure. “I mean I did go somewhere earlier but now I’m here.” His look was anything but impressed or amused so her forced smile faltered but she continued. “It’s going to be snowing soon so I got a warm cloak and boots and now that we have new companions I figured I should have my own horse. I know roach is special but I don’t think even she can carry three for long.” His eyes never left her like he was searching for the least bit of dishonesty.

“We need to talk about last night.”

She shook her head and held her smile. “No, Geralt, you have nothing to explain. Ciri told me how you thought Yennefer died at Sodden. How you searched for her until the witch told you she died. How sad you were at the news. You did nothing wrong.” It was me who fucked up, she said to herself.

“No,” he growled and put his hand on her thigh. “Naurel, I care for you. I’ve never felt the way I have since I found you.”

Her heart thundered in her chest and she knew he could hear it. A tear slipped down her cheek as she reached out to cup his jaw in her hand. “I know whatever it is that was done to me, whatever magic that is on me is drawing us together. I promise you that I’m not running Geralt. I told you I’d go with you to Kaer Morhen to see if anyone could help and I will keep my word. Hopefully Vesimer or one of your sorceress friends can figure out how to fix me and you can have your life back.”

He knew the hurt was deep for her because it was just as bad for him so he didn’t push. At least he had her promise that she wouldn’t run. He turned his head, placing a soft kiss on her palm. “You’re wrong about my feelings Naurel but I’ll take what little hope you can give me for now. I don’t like you riding your own horse, you are still too weak and I’m afraid your wounds will open up again.”

Before she could protest the door of the Inn opened and their other companions came running out. Jaskier looked relieved to see Naurel safe. “I’m sorry, it was Yennefer’s watch,” he explained to Geralt.

Ciri handed Geralt his things as she breathed a sigh of relief at seeing Naurel. When she woke up and her friend was gone it made her heart ache. She climbed up on Lady and prepared herself for another long day in the saddle.

“Can I ride with you?” Jaskier asked Ciri. “Geralt won’t let me ride with him,” he shot the witcher a look.

Ciri chuckled, “Sure as long as Lady is agreeable.” Jaskier jumped up behind her and Lady didn’t protest.

Yennefer came to stand beside Geralt between Roach and Naurel’s horse. She touched the red head’s leg while giving her a look of mock sympathy. Naurel spurred her horse forward and rode away from them. Geralt sighed and shook his head at Yennefer. “What the fuck are you playing at Yen?”

“I feel asleep. I was tried. It worked out because she’s fine,” Yen explained.

He glared at Yen but spoke to the redhead. “Naurel,” he called out a warning, his tone stern.

She turned the horse back and rode toward him slowing as she passed. “Never out of sight. I remember your rules witcher. I’m just trying to get a feel for my horse.”

“Go that way,” he pointed to the north. “I need to pay the farrier then we will head out.”

“I paid him when I bought the horse from him this morning,” she told him, then rode off northbound before he could question her.

They rode till late afternoon mostly listening to the bard tell stories about his adventures with Geralt and Yennifer and the occasional song here and there pretending there wasn’t an uneasy tension in the air. Naurel was pretty sure that her head was going to explode. Geralt had reluctantly let Yennefer ride behind him and they rode beside Naurel most of the time, the witcher' eyes always watching her even though she’d assured him she was fine.

Naurel was trying to focus on the road ahead instead of the pain or the way Geralt’s eyes never left her when she noticed Ciri ride around to the other side of her effectively pinning her between them. She wondered if her riding was that bad because she thought she was doing well for her first time alone.

“Where did you get the money for the horse,” Yennefer asked, trying to distract Geralt. She bit back a smile when she caught Naurel’s glare but pushed on. “I mean Ciri told us how they found you near death with nothing. Or were you hiding your wealth from them?” she asked accusingly.

“I would never do that,” Naurel growled angrily. “I can be accused of a lot of things witch but being a thief or a whore are not one of them.” She knew Yennefer was insinuating she’d whored herself out for money and it provoked a rage in her that she didn’t like. The most severe beatings she received in her life were because she’d run from slavers or owners when they tried to force her into the sex trade. “I sold my necklace to the innkeeper. I had asked him if there was a jeweler in town and he asked to buy the locket himself for his wife.”

“You sold your locket? Why?” Geralt was angry and confused.

Naurel shrugged. “It was just a locket. I’ve had it since I was three and it wasn’t doing anyone any good hidden away.”

“But it was your only tie to your past,” he sighed. “To help you find who your family was.”

“It was a stupid dream. I was orphaned either by choice or necessity. I’ve been nothing since I was three. I'm sure that’s not going to suddenly change because of a small piece of gold. Besides, it just made me more vulnerable if someone were to attack. Now I have nothing worth their time or attentions.”

“So you were just a slave girl?” Yen asked, intrested in the woman's past and where she was from.

“Yennefer,” Great growled in warning.

Naurel shook her head but forced a smile. “Yes, I was just a lowly slave. I have no worth, no fortune, no talent, no usefulness really but I guess destiny wasn’t done with me yet.

“Destiny is for frightened people who can’t think for themselves. You make your own lot in life, your own choices that lead you where you end up. That is one thing Geralt and I agree on wholeheartedly. Fuck destiny.”

She thought about it for a moment and realized that Yen was likely right. If she had been stronger or better at something or just been a different person she would have likely been a different person in a different place. If she’d just given in to the demands of the guards maybe she wouldn’t be here now. She frowned when she felt Geralt’s hand on her left arm and Jaskier’s on her right.

“It’s time to stop for the night. Yennefer get down, Jaskier, hold her,” Geralt inclined his head toward Naurel.

Naurel frowned as Ciri reached out and took the reins from her. “What are you doing? I don’t need anyone to hold me. Why are we stopping?” She hissed when Geralt pulled her down into his arms. “Put me down.”

“No. You are wavering in the saddle barely able to hold yourself up. The fact that you don’t realize it tells me just how bad it is.” He sat her down on the blanket Ciri laid out for them then sat behind her. He opened his kit then started to undo the back of her dress to check her wounds.

“How can I help?” Jaskier asked as he knelt beside them.

Geralt frowned at the blood soaking the bandages on her back. “Bring one of the water skins,” he told his friend.

Jaskier grabbed the waterskin Yennefer was getting ready to drink from and took it to Geralt. He knelt over one of the witcher's legs just in time to catch Naurel as she fell forward, too weak to hold herself up anymore. “Easy,” he soothed as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“I’m ok. We can keep going,” she insisted even though she was losing the battle to stay upright.

“Yennefer, start gathering wood for a fire. Ciri, start setting up so we can heat some water,” Geralt ordered. His anger was getting the best of him. He didn’t understand why Yennefer was acting this way. He just knew he had to get her out of his sight for a few minutes or he was going to snap.

“Bossy witcher,” Yennefer sighed but went to gather wood.

“That’s bad Geralt,” Jaskier said as he looked at Naurel’s back. “I thought Triss healed her.”

“She did heal the worst of it.” He shared a concerned look with the bard and focused on his task. Once he’d examined every injury including her hip and leg he laid her back on the blanket with his cloak folded under her head then went to the fire to start mixing herbs into a tea to help with the infection.

The sun had long set and the stars were shining above the trees. Everyone was gathered around the fire eating some cured pork that they had gotten on their stop in town. Naurel groaned when Geralt lifted her upper body and sat behind her again. As much as she didn’t want to she couldn’t help but lean bodily into him for his comfort and warmth. “Drink this,” he said as he held the cup to her lips.

She took a sip and started coughing. “By the God’s it tastes like a frog's ass,” she sputtered.

Everyone laughed, even Geralt, which shocked the hell out of Jaskier. He’d never even seen the witcher smile. “Drink,” Geralt chuckled.

“No,” Naurel shook her head. A low rumble in his chest and a commanding “Drink,” made Naurel shiver and comply. How the hell did he do that?

“Um,” Jaskier spoke up, “How do you know what a frog’s ass tastes like?”

This time Naurel choked from laughing. “I don’t but it’s low to the ground, wet and slimy and covered in dirt so I assumed.”

Geralt put the cup aside when it was empty then ran his hands over her arms. “You’re freezing.”

“It’s the ice in my heart,” she teased and she could feel him shake his head. After a moment she got to her feet.

“Where are you going?” he stood with her.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she told him. He took her arm to guide her. “Umm, no. You are not going with me to pee.”

“You are not going out there unprotected,” he argued.

She reached out and pulled the dagger from the belt on his side. “Now I’m protected. If I need you then you will reach me quickly, you're a witcher.” She walked past Ciri who was about to stand, “You aren’t going with me either princess. There are some things a lady needs to do alone.” She heard Geralt’s displeased growl as she walked away from the fire and knew he didn’t like it but he stayed put.

She went a bit farther than she intended but something seemed to be watching out for her because she found what she was looking for. There was a large willow tree and the withered husks of carvacrol plants near a small stream. The water had mostly iced over but still trickled in places. The weather had already caused the willow sap to draw back deep into the tree and the plants were long dead but she needed them if she had any hope of hiding her pain from her companions. Kneeling before the tree she took Geralt’s dagger, sliced across her left palm, and allowed the blood to drip on the tree and the plants below. “ I call upon Sylvestris deus, keeper of the forest. I take only what I need and will heal your tree after. Please allow me this,” she pleaded. She felt when energy left her body and went into the tree and flowers. It was energy she really couldn’t spare but she convinced herself it would be ok. The tree bark brightened and the flowers below bloomed purple. Carefully she harvested them, cutting the bark into small pieces and putting it all into a pouch that she had in her cloak before rubbing her still bleeding hand over the wounded tree and watching as it knitted back new, fresh bark. She quickly washed her hand and the dagger in the stream knowing she’d been gone too long. Geralt was going to kill her. Sure enough, when she was halfway back he was searching for her and he wasn’t happy. She held her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I don’t move as fast as I should right now. It took longer than I intended.”

He was relieved she was ok so he let it go this time. “I’m just glad you are safe,” he pulled her to him and hugged her.

“Geralt, I won't do anything stupid. You don’t have to focus so much of your attention on me. I know you have other responsibilities.” She hated worrying him so much and was afraid that his attention would be focused on her and something would happen to Ciri.

“You aren’t a responsibility,” he told her as he leaned in and kissed the top of her head before he led her back to camp.

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#geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #witcher fanfiction #the witcher netflix

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help-help-i-need-an-adult · 1 year

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“Geralt, darling…”

“Hmmm”

“I noticed your communication skills have greatly improved over the last few months. You use your words instead of just grunting far more these days. I’m very proud of you.”

“Thank you, Jaskier.”

“As such, I was thinking that perhaps it is time for another lesson in verbal communication.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes! It is so! Now, I realize this is a lesson usually given to performers, such as myself, but I think it is one you could greatly benefit from.”

Geralt sighs. Knowing that Jaskier will simply continue to pester him if he doesn’t agree, Geralt says, “If you think I would benefit from the lesson, I’ll to do my best to learn.”

Before, he would have told the bard to fuck off, but ever since the mountain, Geralt had been trying to put in an effort to do better. Doing better meant communicating better. The need for that had only increased when, a year ago, Geralt had finally gotten up the courage to kiss Jaskier and their relationship had been forever changed. In a good way. The kind of good way Geralt didn’t want to lose ever again.

“Excellent! In that case I see no reason not to start that lesson now.”

Geralt did. They were walking the path and Geralt was walking beside Jaskier; guiding Roach by her reigns. Ciri was away, somewhere safe with Yennifer and learning to control her magic, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still threats. He had to remain vigilant in case of an attack or a monster, and trying to focus on what Jaskier was saying would be distracting.

But, on the other hand, they were on a section of road surrounded by fields. For miles, there would be very few places for bandits or any monster too deadly to hide. Geralt would almost certainly see them long before they became a threat. So, he agreed.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

“Ok. So there are 5 organs of communication.” Geralt watched from the corner of his eye as Jaskier counted them off on his fingers.

The head

The heart

The gut

The groin

The arms

“You’re very good with the 1st and the 5th organs. The head refers to things you state. They are a matter of fact. No ifs ands or buts about them. You’ve proven to excel at this in the past several months. And the arms refer to non-verbal communication that is instead conveyed through action. Again. You excel at this.”

To prove his point, and to be an ass, Geralt raises an eyebrow at him and smirks while spreading the arm that is currently not busy guiding Roach.

Jaskier laughs and gently smacks the arm now extended towards him. “Yes. Exactly. However, you are lacking in the other three departments.”

Lowering his arm, Geralt asks, “so how do I go about fixing that? I’m not even sure I completely understand how the first 4 work. I’m communicating with my mouth and voice. Is that what you mean by head? And if that’s the case, I would have thought I was doing just fine with groin.”

Jaskier swats his arm again.

“Yes and no. In that regard, what you’re doing with your groin falls under arms.”

“Hmm.”

“Let me give you examples.”

Jaskier seems to take a moment to think.

“If I was going to tell you ‘I want you to come here’ there are 5 different ways I could go about that.”

“The 5th being arms. I could simply make eye contact with you. Point at you and then the ground. You would understand what that meant, yes?”

“Yes, Geralt exactly. The 1st one being head where I simply say to you ‘I want you to come here.’ And you would understand it to be a simple request.”

“Hmm.”

“But, if I were to make the same statement using my heart,” Jaskier’s eyes got bigger and his posture less ridged. When he continued, his voice was soft and breathy like when they’re lying together at night and just talking, “I want you to come here.”

Oh. Geralt had always been aware of how Jaskier would talk when it was just the two of them. How it would feel different, like now.

He’s tried to do that before, but it had never quite had the same effect. Like it was just… incorrect “I’ve tried that”, he tells Jaskier, “but it just doesn’t work right.”

“You mean when you look at me very intensely and get quieter?”

“Yes.”

“Well… that is part of it. But this isn’t about volume, or what your eyes are doing. It’s about what feeling you’re letting yourself have as you say it.”

Hmmm. That made sense. Even now, when letting his thoughts be known, Geralt struggled with the emotions part.

“So what’s gut?”

“But you haven’t tried heart yet!”

Geralt leveled a look at Jaskier that made it clear he needed to move on for now.

“Oh, all right. The 3rd is statements made in reaction. There isn’t much thought to them, like a gut reaction or when you have to make a decision in the moment.” Jaskier’s voice got louder and more rushed, “I want you to come here!”

Geralt moved closer to Jaskier on instinct. The almost fear in his voice had him going before he could remember this was an example.

“Ah. I think I understand this one. It’s fear.”

“Well,” Jaskier drawled, “it can be. It can also be excitement, or anger, or any other number of emotions. Much like heart can be hurt or longing and not just love. It’s just reactionary. Truth to the heads fact.”

This was getting confusing. How could it be fear but also other things? Geralt decided he’d need time to think about this and it was probably better to keep going. “So what is groin?”

“Ah,” Jaskier’s demeanor changed once again. It was one Geralt was very familiar with, he’d watched Jaskier adapt it with men and women all over the continent for decades. He’s been on the receiving end of it as of late and had grown fond of the change in Jaskier’s stance, the sway of his hips, the light in his eyes. He’d even seen Jaskier adopt it with a particularly good meal when they’d been getting by on what Geralt could hunt for too long.

When Jaskier spoke, it was low and gravely, and sent a shiver down Geralt’s spine. “I want you to come here.”

“Desire. And not just lust.”

Jaskier’s stance and voice changed once again, the change almost jarring, “Yes! Exactly. The wanting something so badly you can feel it.”

“Hmm. That one makes more sense.”

“Yes, you aren’t terrible at groin, but you tend to only use it when you’re horny and I insist you use your words. You could be using it for so many other things. And don’t give me the you want nothing speech again. I know that’s bullshit.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good!”

“I’m going to need some time to think on all of this, but in the meantime,” Geralt wrapped his free arm around Jaskier’s waist and gently pulled him into his side. Then, putting as much groin into his voice as he could, “telling me you want me got me hard. There’s no one around for miles.”

Geralt enjoyed watching a blush creep up Jaskier’s neck and hearing his heart speed up.

“Not going to say ‘no’ to that, dear witcher.”

Thanks @0dde11eth for telling me to write this

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #the witcher netflix #geralt x jaskier #witcher #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier the bard #geraskier fic #short fic #just performer stuff #literally got a version of this lecture in chorus rehearsal this past week #it fucking works #and I knew it needed to be done with these two #thanks Cy

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cherryjuicegf · 11 months

Text

The red light of the setting sun as it enters fiery through the window serves as a mere accessory before her beauty, a frame to fit around her and set her ablaze.

Jaskier's breath hitches.

A witch, he thinks, standing at the door as he watches her slip on her earrings for the ball, for her wicked glance through the mirror could mean nothing else but a silent spell to make his knees weak and his heart race and his mind blurry. The sun hits his eyes, or it could be the red of her lips, and he swallows.

"That's enough magic for today, witch," he says, although his voice trembles ever so lightly.

Yennefer smirks, presses her lips together in front of the mirror. "Magic? There is no magic, bardling." Her tone is indifferent but he knows better than that, as well as he knows he's past falling for any spell of hers. It didn't work the first time, and it never would.

This is no spell.

Yet there is something different in her eyes, something that was not there yesterday. A kind of shadow that runs deeper than what he has already known. Secret, unfamiliar. He doesn't ask. Because she notices at once the line between his brows and fails to hide behind her reflection.

He would be proud of seeing through her once more if he was not afraid.

Yennefer doesn't speak. She only clears her throat and lowers her head, as though she can't bear looking at him through the glass, so fragile and deceiving. Instead, her hand creeps down a box in the dresser, and she wraps her fingers around something he can't yet discern. Her knuckles turn white. A peculiar dread suddenly makes his limbs numb.

She never holds on to anything with such might.

At last, she turns around and walks up to him, still avoiding his eyes but keeping her head high nonetheless, and takes hold of his hand. Her grip is almost bruising. He doesn't mind.

She pries his fingers open, and something cold fits inside his palm. He looks at it, eyes wide. A ring.

Before he has time to wonder, Yennefer speaks with ease as though to dismiss it. "I wanted you to have this." He meets her eyes, then, and they speak with a tone much more desperate than her voice. Much more regretful.

Confused, almost out of breath, he tries to see. "Why?" There is an ache in his chest, painfully familiar. An ache of forthcoming grief that has not yet settled, but makes its place quietly in the corner previously molded in the shape of her hand. At once, he knows. "You are leaving."

Somehow, he always knows when they are leaving.

Yennefer chuckles silently, her voice choked. "No, I'm..." Swallows. "Just a strange feeling, is all." He wants to fall on his knees, beg, ask, understand. Instead, he tilts his head bewildered. She takes a sharp breath, her voice suddenly firm. "That's all."

Her hand is still holding his, and she makes to pull away, but he catches her. Inside his hand, he feels her fingers shaking, cold. Alas, they are never cold.

Give the ring back. A way to persuade her, perhaps, to keep her close or to avoid a promise that will only tear him apart. But suddenly, her eyes blaze like fire, almost like a threat or a promise in despair. Of course. She was never bound to stay.

His grip on her hand eases to no more than a caress, and he sighs. "Gods, Yennefer." Resigned, fond all the same. Not accusing, never. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing." She looks at him straight, as though she wants him to pry the answer from inside her eyes. Then, she shakes her head. "Just forget it."

"Yennefer–"

Suddenly, her lips on his, fierce, and it's as though the setting sun drags him down along as his knees give in. It's bittersweet. He knew it would be bittersweet. And yet he can't help but whimper silently and run his hand through her hair and kiss her deeper, just for a moment, and then it is over quickly so that they won't miss it as much.

As they stare at each other, they know it doesn't matter. They will.

Her eyes are watery, a lake he wants to drown in, if it means he can stay there forever. A lake he wishes he could just carry her away from, and see her smile.

She cups his face in her hand and he has to hold his breath so as not to lean into the touch. "The ring. Don't you dare ever give it back to me." Her voice emerges steady among the tears she swallows.

Heart already missing her warmth, he nods.

A promise, then. We will meet again. He won't give it back when they do.

He will only hope.

#i changed my mind there it is. it would beat me to death if i left it for later #it's been a while since i made myself scream i really enjoyed it #the witcher #yennskier #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #fic recs #chrysa writes #back to studying native americans now bye. sorry #this is before thannedd btw thus the ball. forgot to specify in the text :')

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magdelanesingerin · 5 months

Text

I yam so lucky to have you

It’s the kind of brilliant, cloudlessly cold day in early winter that makes Jaskier want to cuddle up in a sweater with a mug of spiked cider. Sipping wine and cooking a big dinner in an oven-warmed kitchen with Geralt is even better. The scent of fresh baked bread and sweet potatoes lingers in the air of their little kitchen.

He sweeps chopped pecans into a bowl and makes a distressed little noise as he notices a scattering of tiny green threads lingering in the mix, and Geralt hums a little inquisitive sound from his spot at the sink where he’s diligently washing dishes.

Anyone who had just met the two of them might be forgiven for assuming that Geralt would be the one with a talent for cooking. The man is frighteningly competent at so many things, and it would make absolute sense for that competency to extend to the kitchen. Just like one might assume that Jaskier, flighty and forgetful with a fondness for processed cheese snacks would be totally hopeless and likely to burn a pot of boiling water.

They’d be wrong. It’s not that Geralt can’t cook. He can! And the five dishes that he rotates between are all…solidly good. Exciting? Complex? Adventurous? Flavorful? Not at all. But reliably edible, hearty, nutritious, efficient things that will feed the two of them for days. Jaskier has grown to hate them and if he ever spends a week eating Geralt’s totally okay fried rice again he might scream.

So, anyway, Jaskier is the one who cooks most of the time, while Geralt helps by cleaning as they go and fetching ingredients as his boyfriend asks for them. They love cooking together like this, though, and a big holiday meal like this is a labor of love for both of them.

Jaskier purses his lips and lets out a blustery sigh as he swipes at the sneaky little specks of green that are cling to his sliced apples.

“Well, I guess there’s just going to be a little bit of dill in everything until I stop and wash this fucking cutting board,” he mutters in exasperation. Every time he thinks he’s gotten rid of all the fluttery little bits, there’s one more. It’s fine, it’s not enough to add flavor, just enough to be obnoxious.

Geralt hums again before he speaks up, eyes on the sink and the pot that he’s diligently scrubbing. “We’ll dill with it.”

It takes a moment for the awful pun to land. When it does, Jaskier’s eyes widen in dismay at the apples under his knife, and his mouth opens wordlessly for a moment before it clicks shut again.

“After all, you didn’t do it dill-iberately,” Geralt continues after a long beat of silence.

Jaskier sucks his lips between his teeth tightly and shakes his head, refusing to look at the smirk he’s sure is on his boyfriend’s face.

“It’ll still be dill-icioous,” Geralt says, completely deadpan.

Jaskier snorts and drops the knife with a clatter before he spins on his heel to leave the kitchen laughing in delighted horror. This is the man he loves, who he has chosen to spend his life with. By the time he circles the livingroom and returns, his eyes are streaming.

Geralt is standing by the sink in his sock feet, looking sinfully gorgeous in his tight henley with a dish towel thrown over one shoulder, his hair twisted back in a messy, loose bun, and grinning with pride at his horrible puns. Jaskier loves him so much it makes him stupid. He’s still shaking his head helplessly when he steps close to loop his arms around Geralt’s waist and buries his face in the man’s ridiculous chest.

“You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you,” he mumbles into the firm muscle under him. He even smells amazing, the bastard.

“Mmhm.” Geralt gently pats him on the back with one huge hand.

“I hate you so much.”

“No you dont. You love me,” he teases.

Jaskier sighs and steps back over to his apples. “Yeah, you’re right. I really, really do.”

He can’t imagine a better way to spend a long weekend than this.

on AO3 here

#holiday fluff #geraskier #modern au #geralt's terrible dad jokes #The witcher #my fic #they're in love your honor

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green-fifteen · 3 months

Text

Day 1: late spring (if we're lucky)

Prompt: Snow Fandom: The Witcher (TV) Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier Word count: 376 read on AO3 instead

for @fluffyfebruary

The air is freezing cold but Jaskier doesn't mind. He's been standing on the balcony and looking over the balustrade since after breakfast. It's still so unusual to him, all of this snow. Anywhere he looks, all he can see is blankets of the stuff. Except of course, where two figures are moving below him in the training yard. Jaskier is admiring Ciri's ability to parry what looks like a powerful blow from Eskel when arms reach around him from behind, pulling him into a warm body.

He's proud to say it doesn't startle him anymore, this sneaking of Geralt's. As soon as he feels himself tugged into an embrace, he simply melts into it, far too used to being grabbed and grappled by now. Geralt doesn't say anything. Jaskier is used to this, as well.

Snow drifts lazily onto the balcony in clumps. He hears Geralt take a short breath, can feel the fuller shape of his chest against him, but he doesn't speak.

"What is it?" he asks. His tone is hushed. It must be something about the snow and the gray morning above them.

"It's going to melt soon," Geralt says into his ear. He nuzzles his nose and mouth into the crook of Jaskier's neck.

"The snow? How can you tell?"

Geralt drags a hand up his torso to press against his chest. "The flakes are sticking together. They're heavy."

Jaskier tilts his head as Geralt's teeth come out, scraping along the sensitive skin.

"So we'll have to leave soon?" he asks, just this side of breathless.

"Mm," Geralt grunts. His thumb is pressing circles into Jaskier's hip bone, pushing hard into the muscle there. Their hips are flush.

"Would you say," he stops to suck in a breath. "The winter might last at least another hour?"

Geralt's lips curve up into a smile that Jaskier can feel against his skin. It makes him smile too, compelled by a natural reflex to approve of anything that makes Geralt happy.

"An hour?" he growls, punctuating with a little bite to Jaskier's earlobe. "I think winter might last the rest of the day, at least."

Jaskier laughs when Geralt pulls him up and off his feet, snow swirling in happy spirals in the air.

#green-fifteen #fanfic #fluffyfebruary #fluffy february #the witcher #i have so many ideas for this pairing and almost none of them are fluffy #so i had to work hard to get inspired for this one!#i think i'll do a different fandom each day of the week during the challenge #fluff #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt/jaskier #witcher #witcher fanfiction #fifteen #fifteen fanfic #snow #also sorry this is late lol

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ephhemeralite · 2 months

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writing pattern tag game!

post the first line of your last ten posted fics and see if there's a pattern! thanks for the tag, @ful-crum !!!!!

not quite sure how i got here, real glad i've got more than ten fics posted (if only barely), excited to see how it goes

"Aziraphale bustles back into his shop with all of the energy of a raccoon holding a goodie they never expected to stumble across." – no skin like the skin you woke up in (gomens canon divergence au)

"Ed has spent the vast majority of his life as a pirate. Get as old and experienced as he’s gotten – far older and more experienced than he ever expected, mind you – and you form some opinions, about salt and the sea and the way of things." – and i feel so proud when the reckoning arrives (this is two lines so it's cheating but whatever 💚. very dumb black sails/our flag means death crossover)

"The first time Dick notices himself call for Batgirl and the wrong sibling respond, he doesn't think much of it." – no difference between the past and the ground (dick grayson thinks he's going crazy until he realizes [REDACTED])

"Tommy thinks that finding himself stuck through the Blood God’s sword – stuck through – should come as more of a shock to him than it does." – this is mostly what happens in dallas (au of my dsmp hero/villain major character death series where the major character death doesn't happen but it's still not great! hence the wtnv if he had lived title)

"Wilbur drops onto the couch with a groan and some sort of weird, histrion-type flail." – a gaze blank and pitiless as the sun (dsmp hero/villain au, companion piece to the actual mcd, probably my best piece of posted writing)

"He isn't looking for trouble today, but he isn't surprised when the blade of a sword finds him regardless." – the truth is like a sickle (it'll cut you to the middle) (dsmp hero/villain au with the mcd)

"The flickering lights of the tavern seem soft, in the late hours of the night." – drunk in a field (on dandelion wine) (unfinished 5+1 from a folk witch!jaskier universe that i got super super attached to but eventually let go of because my life kept getting more insane and the concept more intricate)

"Peter had spent a lot of time trying to psychoanalyze Neal Caffrey before his capture." – acquainted with the saint of never getting it right (white collar/batfam crossover, dick grayson is neal caffrey, my most popular fic by a chunk)

"Geralt can already tell that Jaskier plans on dragging them both out tonight, probably with quilt, to force him into a night of 'stargazing and communing with nature like we used to!'" – it could feel like an end (to have to keep going) (immortal/modern times geraskier au fic i haven't read since i wrote and posted it in a day. i think it's contemplations on mortality, helplessness, and the climate crisis?)

"Briefly, he contemplates sitting up on the couch to give himself better lung capacity for his incoming tirade, but figures that he may as well put his vigilante training to good use, and continues to lay back." – more like me (less like you) (technically the second line of an emotional conversation between dick and jason, but the first line was dialogue and it is too early for me to mess with quotation marks like that)

so, full disclaimer that i don't post a ton (no skin was last updated in august of last year and more like me was posted in july of 2021) so a lot of this writing is kind of old, but! i did notice that i've tended to open in media res, but recently i have been incorporating more exposition. i've never tried to make my first lines great hooks — i'm honestly more concerned with giving myself a good jumping-off point than anything else. it also struck me how many fandoms i've written for that i no longer engage with, basically at all. maybe i've just been really focused lately, but i don't think a few of these fandoms would hold my attention anymore! ironically, i'm talking about the more recent fandoms like dsmp/gomens/ofmd and not the older stuff like the batfam or the witcher.

this was really fun, i loved looking back through my work like this!! thank you again ful-crum for tagging me :)! i'm gonna tag @doingthewritethings, @b10000p, and @alavenderleaf !!!!!!

#tag game #me when ive been writing plenty of fic recently but not posting any of it so my most recent thing is gomens s2 cope fic......#and by cope fic i mean Make It Worse fic. for the record #augh i'll finish something eventually

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bambirex · 1 year

Note

Hello.Good morning.I'm Ao3 user Jacobflower who commented on your work yesterday.It's the first time in my life that I've used Tumblr and made a request to an author, so please excuse any clumsiness on my part.The request idea is: In Whicher's universe, Jaskier and Geralt are in a town and it's Jaskier's birthday. Geralt spends the whole day looking for a good present but finding nothing, at the end of the day Jaskier admits that the best present is the presence of the witcher. I think the cute genre would fit well and humor.

Thank you for your attention and sorry for anything, I'm lost 😩😁

Hi there! Don't worry, your request was completely coherent 💕

Warnings: one slightly sexual line towards the end

There was no dessert sweet enough, no perfume good enough. Not a single piece of clothing was as soft as it should have been, as colorful and as fancy as Jaskier deserved. No piece of jewelry shone bright enough for Geralt to deem it worthy for Jaskier.

No matter where he looked, he couldn't find anything that he believed would have been good enough for Jaskier. Not because Jaskier was picky; it was actually very easy to make him happy. He always appreciated the small things in life, so that was not the problem.

The problem was that Geralt believed Jaskier deserved the entire world, and he wasn't sure how to give it to him.

When Geralt has realized it was Jaskier's birthday that morning, he's been overcome with a sense of dread. He wasn't exactly proud of the very not witcher-like panic he's been feeling the whole day. Poor Jaskier must have thought he went mad, wearing a hole into the floor as he paced up and down, trying to come up with the best birthday present for his bard.

The people of the town were also horrified by a visibly distressed witcher running about, grunting under his breath as he rummaged through the market. He even went through the ridiculous and disgusting trial of cake-tasting, just to find something eligible for Jaskier. He's still felt the overly sweet taste on his tongue hours after.

The Sun has already started to descend, and Geralt still hasn't found the perfect present. Defeated, he returned to the inn him and Jaskier stayed at.

Jaskier immediately noticed his troubled state when he walked through the door. He opened his arms for his witcher, and Geralt fell into them with a heavy sigh, resting his head on Jaskier's shoulder.

"Why the long face, my dear?" Jaskier asked softly, rubbing soothing circles onto Geralt's back. Geralt groaned into the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I've tried to find you the best present for your birthday. I didn't manage."

"Is that why you've been running around the whole day?" Jaskier laughed, tightening his arms around Geralt. "I nearly went to find Yennefer because I thought you were drugged on something and went crazy."

Geralt chuckled. "I figured you'd think that. I was upset."

Jaskier pulled back a bit to look up into Geralt's eyes. His expression was soft and somewhat amused, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

"There's no reason to be," Jaskier told him, making Geralt snort.

"Why? You deserve the best present. And I couldn't get you anything."

Jaskier's smile only widened as he took Geralt's hands into his own. He laced their fingers together. There was a faint, soft blush adorning his cheeks.

"Oh, Geralt," he whispered, "I already have the best present."

Seeing the confused look on Geralt's face, he laughed softly.

"You," he clarified, reaching up to cup Geralt's cheeks. "I have you, and that's more than enough for me."

Geralt suddenly wasn't sure how to answer. No one has ever told him his company was needed, let alone wanted and appreciated. He couldn't comprehend how such a wonderful soul like Jaskier would find him enough.

"I'm serious," Jaskier assured him, probably seeing his bewilderment. "Nothing could ever compare to having you here, with me."

He leaned up and kissed Geralt on the lips so sweetly, it made Geralt's heart flutter. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier's waist and pulled him closer.

"Well, happy birthday, then," he chuckled awkwardly, kissing the tip of Jaskier's nose. Jaskier grinned, his eyes bright as he looked up at Geralt with so much adoration. It made Geralt almost believe his presence really was enough.

"Happy birthday to me," Jaskier repeated. His eyes suddenly lit up mischievously.

"You can still blow me as a second birthday gift, though."

Geralt rolled his eyes, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he pulled Jaskier into another kiss.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #geralt x jaskier #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic #my fic #request #flowerjayjay77

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inexplicifics · 1 year

Note

Hello. I had a brainworm based on your Wolfblood series that I thought might entertain you.

Basically, a few years down the line, there is a state visit of the Wolfblood to the Redanian state. I think the only way they would get Geralt there is if Marika had another baby. Or at least, the only way they would get Geralt there with minimal protestation. But anyway - Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, Aiden, Milena and a few others are visiting. Probably Aubry, just because I love him.

It's been long enough that Marta has decided to show her face at court again. She's furious, of course. Her sisters are a queen and duchess equivalent. Not just a duchess, but one who has the ear and favour of the Wolf Lord. She's practically sick with rage and jealousy and just the unfairness of it all. She was always the good daughter, always made father proud, always did the best at court. Now father isn't even allowed at court. She deserves more than them.

Obviously, the only way to get that respect she deserves is to seduce the Wolf Lord.

It goes even worse for her than you'd expect. Especially if Jaskier is there.

Okay this is hilarious.

Marika and Milena just watching this go down like, "We could probably do something about this. But, uh, she's...making her bed, and she can lie in it. As it were."

Geralt just being So Confused. All he wants to do is hold Marika's new baby. Why is this woman flinging herself at him. She doesn't even really want him. What the hell.

Eskel is somewhere between amused and irritated, leaning towards amused because Geralt is just So Baffled. But seriously, just let his soulmate hold the baby and be happy.

#questions answered #must brave the thorns

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carrottheluvmachine · 4 months

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2023 writing round up

I was tagged by the lovely @bambirex who is a brilliant writer and a darling friend. Please check her out if you can!

This year I've written more than I ever have before. I have 12 fics in total and most of them were only made possible thanks to the help of my friends at the Witcher Chub Club. I'm ridiculously proud of all of them and of myself.

March

A Perfect Fit (geraskier, E, 2.9k) Jaskier has gained a substantial amount of weight lately. So why did Geralt find clothes that are clearly several sizes too small in his pack?

May

How To Serve Mankind (geraskier, E, 7.8k) Geralt and Jaskier part ways for the winter and Jaskier finds himself captured by a pair of trolls who intend on feeding him up so that they could eat him. In captivity, Jaskier loses hope and himself. Will Geralt be able to save him? Can he escape? And even if he does will he be able to come to terms with the major changes in his body?

June

A Bard's Glamour (geraskier, M, 5.3k) When Jaskier was young, he was given a special ring that hid his real self behind a perfectly slim image, one that would be more successful in society. Over the years he learned to depend on this fake image because facing reality was simply too difficult. It was much easier to pretend to be skinny rather than getting the world to accept the fat bard that he actually was.

July

Growing For You (geraskier, M, 3.6k) Geralt likes Jaskier soft, he said so himself. Jaskier loses weight over a winter they spend apart and worries what Geralt will think once they're reunited in the spring again.

Somewhere Beyond the Sea (geraskier, E, 7.3k) As a newly retired Witcher, Geralt is living by the coast when he discovers a seal under attack by a drowner. He rescues it and bonds with it and may be getting in a little over his head when he discovers that it’s much more than just an ordinary seal.

September

This Little Piggy (geraskier, E, 5.6k) Jaskier tags along with Geralt on a contract to kill a witch who lives on a suspicious pig farm but things aren't quite what they seem. Perhaps they should have realized sooner that the pigs roaming the land had previously been men.

Just A Couple of Pounds (geraskier, T, 3.1k) Jaskier responded by reaching up and pulling Geralt down close enough to crush their lips together in a searing kiss. He had been waiting for this moment for far too long. He couldn’t believe it was actually happening and all because he had eaten a bit too much at a banquet.

Life's Little Pleasures (geraskier, E, 4.9k) “Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier scolded, raising his head and glaring purposely at the Witcher. “You are going to let me shower your cute little belly with kisses and you are going to like it!”

“Jaskier–”

“I could leave,” Jaskier threatened. “I could put my clothes on and waltz right out of here. Could just leave you hard and alone, wanking into your hand for the night. But I suspect you don’t want that, now do you? Hmm, Geralt?”

Geralt paused for a beat before shaking his head.

October

Bring Your Hunger (geraskier, E, 14.4k) Nilfgaard needs Jaskier alive to tell them where Geralt and the princess are, but only barely. The witcher’s bard subsists on stale bread and water over the winter, protecting his family with his silence, and as his hunger grows his body shrinks away.

When Geralt finally rescues his beloved bard, he’s horrified to find mere skin and bone. Together they recover.

November

A Heart Is a Heavy Burden (geraskier, M, 8.2k) Yennefer laughed, carding her fingers through his hair. “Oh? So you weren’t the one who had wished that the bard wouldn’t be able to follow you anymore so you could get some peace? That wasn’t you?”

It was him. He had wished that. He had yelled that right before Jaskier had made his wish to not be hungry anymore. The djinn had taken his words, twisted them, and made it so it was physically impossible for Jaskier to follow him across the Continent anymore by making him so heavy that he was nearly immobile.

The bottom fell out of Geralt’s stomach and he felt like he might throw up. He had caused this. It was his fault.

Four Years (geraskier, E, 4.8k) Jaskier and Geralt both think the other dead after they get separated during an ambush by the Nilfgaardian army. Jaskier manages to escape and returns to teaching at Oxenfurt while Geralt continues to keep Ciri safe. Four years pass and everything changes and yet remains exactly the same when they're reunited.

December

From Bard to Bait (geraskier, E, 7.8k) When Jaskier arrives in a town famous for their food festivals and finds Geralt stuffing his face, he isn't shy to question why the Witcher has such an impressive appetite suddenly. Geralt explains that a lik'ichiri has been feeding off the towns people, plucking the fattest one it can find and eating them. In order to save the town, Geralt is determined to make himself bait for the monster, but his Witcher metabolism just won't cut it.

Jaskier steps up to the task after a little help from Yennefer who makes it so his body will gain more weight more quickly. He and Geralt have a week to help him gain 200 pounds so he could be the perfect bait for the lik'ichiri. The thing is, Jaskier didn't expect to enjoy it as much as he does. He didn't expect Geralt to either.

#colie writes #the witcher #geraskier #chubby!jaskier #chubskier #weight gain #stuffing

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flowercrown-bard · 1 year

Text

the results are in! this choose your own adventure-esque fic is going to be a somewhat lighthearted Geraskier fic set at a masquerade

For some reason I can’t add the poll to this post, so at the end of the chapter, there will be a link to the poll. sorry for making this more complicated than probably necessary

wc: 1429

AO3

'Choose wisely', said the fool (part 1)

“This is unbelievable!” Jaskier snatched the parchment out of Geralt’s hands, skimming its contents, though he already knew what they were. The wax seal showing an intricate rose design had revealed it all. “How did you do it?”

“Hm?” Geralt folded his arms and lifted an eyebrow in amusement, as he watched Jaskier fret over the letter.

“Oh, don’t you hmm me,” Jaskier said petulantly, though his heart skipped a beat at the little smile Geralt quirked. Even after years of friendship, he still couldn’t get enough of Geralt’s teasing tone and the easy familiarity with which the witcher had started treating him once he had gotten used to the idea that Jaskier genuinely wanted to be his friend. And it was true. Jaskier did love being friends with him, travelling beside him, sharing drinks and laughs as friends were wont to do. There was just the tiny detail that a not-so-secret part of him wanted to have something else with Geralt as well. As much as Jaskier told himself he was satisfied with sharing a bed with Geralt out of convenience, he found himself wishing that he were allowed to sling an arm around Geralt’s waist and pull him closer, so he could press his head between his shoulder blades and fall asleep listening to his slow heartbeat or wake him up with a kiss. Gods, how he wanted to kiss him.

He coughed, shaking those thoughts off. He could deal with them later. Or never. That would also be acceptable. For now, he had other priorities. Namely -

“How, by the mighty clap of Melitele’s arsecheeks, did you manage to get invited to Duchess Ruta’s betrothal feast? And I - the Continent’s greatest and most famous bard - did not?”

Geralt’s lips twitched.

“Maybe your infamy for sleeping with engaged people isn’t very helpful.”

“Well, neither should your infamy for claiming the law of surprise at Pavetta’s betrothal feast be. And yet…” He smacked the invitation with one hand, creating a satisfyingly dramatic sound. “Maybe she hadn’t heard about that.”

Jaskier let out a disbelieving huff. He couldn’t fathom the idea of any noble who was worth their salt - which, admittedly, weren’t a lot- hadn’t heard about the disaster that had happened in Cintra. Not least of all, because it had made for a fantastic story. A cursed knight, a witcher sparing a monster and therefore ensuring that love won out in the end? Really, what was not to love? Jaskier just had to put that in a ballad and the song had spread across the Continent like a wildfire.

“Unbelievable,” Jaskier said again, mostly in hopes of seeing Geralt grin once more. As much as he acted like a slighted lover, Jaskier was proud of his friend. The Geralt from a couple of years ago would have never been even considered as a guest to a noble’s feast. The only thing less likely than that was the possibility of Geralt actually accepting.

“If you’re so mad about it, I take it you’re not coming?” Geralt asked nonchalantly and turned to his bags to pull out his alchemy set, clinking the bottles together.

“I repeat myself.” Jaskier waved the parchment through the air, despite Geralt not looking at him. “I wasn’t lucky enough to be invited.”

“Read the last line.”

With a frown, Jaskier did as he was bid. “Please be aware that you may bring no more than one additional guest with you, if you so wish.” His mouth dropped open. “Geralt, are you saying what I think you’re saying? Because if you’re not, I shall write a heartbreaking ballad about the cruelty of one Geralt of Rivia for toying with my hope.”

Geralt snorted and rolled his eyes at Jaskier’s dramatics.

“I wouldn’t ever hear the end of it if I didn't take you."

"You won't hear the end of it if you take me either,” Jaskier warned. “You know I'll make a song out of it, right?"

"I know." Geralt lowered his head as he sorted through his bottles, making his hair fall down and obscure his features. Still, Jaskier was sure he could see the hint of a smile. "It sounded like the sort of thing you'd like."

Jaskier's heart fluttered like a humming bird's wings.

"And exactly like the sort of thing you hate." He dropped the pretence of being affronted. Softly, he added, "You'd go there for me?"

Geralt shrugged. "Rich people have the best alcohol and food. Also, it's a masquerade. People won't bother me if they don't recognize me." He titled his head just enough that Jaskier could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. "And if they don't recognize you, then I don't have to look out for any cuckolds seeking revenge."

Jaskier bit his lip to stop himself from making a quip about how his face wasn't the only recognizable part of him. He didn't need to challenge his luck that much. Who knew when Geralt would offer to take him to a ball again?

"I'd love to go with you."

"Hmm." Geralt sounded pleased and for some reason relieved, as if there had ever been a chance that Jaskier wouldn't accept the invitation. "You better buy a mask then."

Jaskier lit up. He bounced on his heels.

"What are you going as? Oh! We could match!"

Geralt snorted. "How about we don't tell each other and see if we still recognize each other at the ball?"

Jaskier lifted his brows and let his eyes roam pointedly over the bulk of Geralt's shoulders and his very recognisable white hair.

"Sure," he said, drawing out the word. "Say, that's not just an excuse because you don't have a mask yet, is it?"

"Of course not."

"Liar." Jaskier grinned. "But fine. Challenge accepted. I could recognise you by your horse-smell alone. Speaking of which," he wrinkled his nose. "I'll leave you to your stinky alchemy. I don't need to watch you crush drowner brains again."

"Pity," Geralt said drily. "Whatever should i do without you to distract me."

"Oh, I'm distracting you?" Jaskier teased. "Did you just admit you think I'm pretty?"

Geralt grunted, but didn't deny it.

Jaskier very much didn't flee from the room so that Geralt wouldn't hear his heart picking up speed. He simply was eager to find a suitable mask to wear to the ball.

As he made his way to the heart of the town, he was already coming up with ideas. Granted, none of them would do any good at hiding his identity from Geralt, but he was well aware that that would be impossible anyway, what with Geralt being able to pick out the sound of his heartbeat in a crowd. No, Jaskier had a different goal in mind with his mask.

The first idea he had was perhaps the most obvious one. If he got a mask that looked like a wolf, he would be matching Geralt, even if Geralt had a differently themed mask. Everyone would know that he was the White Wolf’s companion. The idea of wearing something that undeniably marked him as belonging to Geralt made his heart beat faster and his cheeks heat up.

Then again, there were other options. It was a silly idea, of course, but… what if Jaskier went all out and got a really good disguise? He was sure that the troupe of actors he had chatted with earlier that day would let him borrow some of their costumes and props. Some cheap charm to change his eye colour to look more yellow, two prop swords, some light armour, maybe a wig… It wouldn't take much to make him look like a witcher. Geralt would be so annoyed but it would be so much fun, if only to see his reaction. Jaskier had to giggle just imagining it: following Geralt around with an exaggerated frown and artificially deep voice to imitate him. It would be hilarious!

But maybe annoying Geralt wasn't the right thing to do. After all, he had been kind enough to invite Jaskier along. Jaskier shouldn't punish him for that by teasing him. Maybe he should instead strive to make Geralt smile. And there was one thing that without fail would always make him smile: Horses. Jaskier would look absolutely terrible in a horse mask, but a little public humiliation would be worth it if it meant seeing Geralt light up at the sight of him and maybe even laugh a little, if Jaskier was lucky.

The more he thought about it, the harder the choice became.

make the choice for Jaskier here

tagging: @fingons-rad-harp @claracaboozle @thequeeninyellowlace @

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher #fic #fanfic #my writing #choose wisely said the fool

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wren-of-the-woods · 4 months

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2023 writing roundup

Thank you so much for the tag @bambirex! I posted 13 fics in 2023, mostly Witcher with a few other fandoms towards the end of the year.

January

Sometimes It Takes A Prison Cell

When Yennefer is thrown in a cell to await execution, the last thing she wants is a cellmate. She gets one anyway: one who is loud, annoying, and convinced that he will be rescued by a witcher. She expects his company to make her miserable. She does not expect it to slowly become bearable, to grow fond of him, or to want to help him — and the last thing she anticipates is that the rescue might actually happen. Or: Yennefer and Jaskier meet in a dungeon. It goes, all things considered, surprisingly well.

March

Spoons and Other Signs of Devotion

After the dragon hunt, Geralt finds that the spoon Jaskier gave him is missing. A story of kindndess, rebuilding, and love.

April

Of Magic, Meddling, and Mice

When Jaskier leaves his prison cell together with Geralt, Gordon tags along. This changes far more than one would think. (Gordon may not quite be the ordinary mouse everyone expects him to be.)

Love, Joy, and Kittens

When Geralt and Yennefer finally get a room at an inn after weeks of travel, Jaskier expects to spend a calm evening with his lovers and sleep in a real bed. This plan is derailed when they find an unexpected creature in their room. Or: In which Geralt, Yennefer, and Jaskier meet a kitten.

July

the greatest songs (are made up of unspoken words)

Radovid hears many songs of Jaskier’s over the years. Each one intrigues him more.

Words of Love

“I should warn you,” Jaskier said between kisses in the soft darkness of the shed, “That I know some… very interesting people. You may want to avoid meeting them.” “I’ve dealt with the Redenian court for decades. Your friends can’t be worse than that.” Five times Radovid meets Jaskier's friends and family, plus one time they are alone.

A New Work of Art

When they make camp in a beautiful forest, Yennefer and Jaskier are happy to sit by as Geralt draws — but the subject of his piece makes them far more emotional than they would have expected.

True Slug's Kiss

When Geralt finds himself entangled in a magical mishap, Jaskier is prepared to save him as usual. What he is not prepared for is the sheer strangeness (and sliminess) of the situation— nor the feelings that it will force him to reveal.

A Dance By The Sea

In which Jaskier and Yennefer go to a festival on the coast, and Yennefer reminds Jaskier that he is loved.

your gaze lights the fire

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.

October

It's Just Like Falling Snow (I Am Above You, And I Love You)

Cassian dies. What comes next is far less lonely than he expects.

To Catch The Wind

In which Fëanáro begins to invent the Tengwar.

December

This Accident and Flood of Fortune

Lizzy and William are looking forward to a quiet date watching their sisters perform in Twelfth Night — but when they discover that George Wickham is waiting in the wings, they must use Lizzy’s wits and their combined nerdery to help William get his revenge. Or: In which Lizzy comes up with a scheme, and even Shakespeare would be proud of the chaos that ensues.

Tagging the people I collaborated with this year, @bloodsoaked-rainbows and @thequeeninyellowlace, and @ghostinthelibrarywrites @dreamofbecoming @jaz-the-bard @cherryjuicegf @damatris and anyone else who feels like it! <3

#wren talks #wren writes #i think i still have to add the last few of these to my masterpost lol #it's been a Very year for me and writing has been really hard sometimes but i still did a fair bit!

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tielmamon · 1 year

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Legacy

714 words • angsty bittersweet ending • major character death (not depicted, just implied) • established relationship

Somewhere, within the stone walls of Kaer Morhen there is a room filled with history of past witchers. Those who established themselves as legends, their stories serving as tales of caution and inspiration to all witchers old or ancient. But within the room of armour and blades, is a peculiar thing.

A lute, elven design, hung proud amongst swords and daggers and gauntlets. Some who wander in might ask if a legendary witcher used music as their weapon. Maybe some would spin tales of a particularly twisted witcher, unsuspectingly ensnaring their monsters with melodies before dealing the final blow.

But no, the owner of the lute is no witcher. That is the most curious fact of all. A bard's spirit nestles amongst witchers in that room. Some may think its a joke, truly. What could a simple bard do to make it into this sanctuary?

Vesemir, the eldest of the witchers would tell you that that bard is a legend, a brother amongst witchers and that his legacy is that which shaped the continent witchers live today. Why people see them as hope, as heroes rather than mutants.

Under the lute, a nameplate hung. Etched carefully and artfully in a slab of stone, wrote Jaskier, the Voice of Witchers. A lark and wolf etched at each end of the title.

Every winter, when the keep is alive and full of family and warmth and safety, a grizzled man with white hair and tired yellow eyes will enter. He will greet his family with a warm smile and a clap on the back. He will especially greet his daughter, the blonde, fiesty woman beating Lambert's ass in Gwent with a bone crushing hug and a kiss on the forehead.

Then, when the moon was up and the others are laughing, merrily sharing stories and spilling drinks, he will make his way to the room of legends, with 2 drinks and a dandelion pressed between the pages of his journal. He would make a beeline to the lute, sit down and talk.

"Hey, Jask."

He would say, as he begins to recall everything that has happened for him this year. Every monster he's slayed, every place he's traveled, every child he's hugged back. He would tell the lute of Ciri, how she's the best witcher out of them all, how the keep is so full of warmth and life despite the cold. He would tell how villages that were once filled with hate and prejudice welcome him and his brothers now with open arms and open purses. He would tell the lute of one particular village in Oxenfurt, close to the university had just announced that they will be having a festival, in honor of witchers and their service towards the continent. He'd mention that even though he hates festivals, he still went because the university send him a letter asking him- because not only is the festival dedicated to them but also to a certain bard that now has a lovely garden named in his honor on campus. A bustling corner of nature with birds and a bright blue pond and dandelions everywhere.

He would tell the lute how much his family missed him, how Lambert still loses himself in a daze for a split second whenever he hears music from a tavern. About how Eskel keeps his favorite poetry book with all his little notes and marks near his bedside. About how Vesemir would tell the young ones he encounters at the village near the keep about this brilliant but insufferable bard that used to roam the halls, how Yennefer would mention him the most still, criticizing his taste in clothes and gaudy fineries when she passes by a storefront display. He'd tell the lute how Ciri would quietly mumble "I miss his voice." under her breath whenever they find themselves in quiet moments.

He would have the most content look in his golden eyes, and he would say the words that never left his heart even after all these years.

"I love you. I miss you. Wait for me."

Then he would place a kiss on the wooden body, place the flower between the strings and leave, all while clutching the bronze tuning fork charm that hung just beside his medallion.

#geraskier #geraskier headcanon #sad but happy #still sad tho #thewitcher #headcanon

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thenightling · 11 months

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A rant against some not-so-great Witcher fans...

The behavior I've seen from some Witcher (book) fans lately does NOT make me proud to usually be a book purist. And no, I'm not talking about the ones who are upset that Jaskier is being shipped with an aged-up Radovid. ( I understand the concern there but you know it's just for plot angst.)

I'm seeing blatant homophobia and sometimes out-right biphobia, including videos of "book fans" who won't even use the term bisexual. They claim Jaskier was "made gay for woke points" by Netflix. Some of the nicer comments I've seen include: "But he's slept with lots of women!" And "But I wanted to see him with Prescilla" (even though she was a creation of the video games and Netflix has no rights to her...) "This means he can't be with Precscilla." ...I can't help but feel these people don't know what bisexual means... They didn't seem to think he couldn't be with Priscilla when they mentioned other woman lovers. I'm still in awe that there are people who claim there's nothing bi about Jaskier (AKA Buttercup AKA Dandelion) in the Netflix show. And again this is not about who he hooks up with. I've seen comments on Facebook of "This is why Henry Cavill left. He's tired of the f-- sh-t." and similar statements. Last year I came across some Witcher book fans who insisted Ciri can never be a "True" Witcher (even in the games where that is an ending) because "only a man can be a true Witcher!" and "The method for making REAL Witchers was lost. It's important to the canon that no woman ever be a Witcher!" And now it's "They're ruining Dandelion!" and "There's no hint that Jaskier was ever gay!" Excuse me... Please read these lyrics to the song he wrote when Geralt left him on the side on the mountain. And as if those lyrics aren't obvious enough Yennefer actually confronts him on the song being about Geralt.

youtube

For people who just "love the original books" I'm seeing blatant sexism and homophobia / biphobia in your midst and it's starting to make me ashamed and distrusting of other book fans. You can't convince me statements of "They've ruined Jaskier by making him queer!" are purely because of who his love interest is going to be next season.

And so many "No wonder Henry Cavill left!" Actually, there has been NO official statement about why Henry Cavill is leaving the show, just a lot of fan speculation (Though yes, some of it is reasonable as he was a fan of the books). He is extremely busy though with the Warhammer franchise, and there's a rumor he might have a Sherlock spin-off and some other things in the works. Just know that when people try to insist how "Straight" Jaskier was portrayed these last two seasons (and spin-off prequel series) and go on long tangents about why Ciri can never be a Witcher... Try to consider they might not be "trying to protect the integrity" of the series after all. I've seen behavior like this before and it's never really about protecting the stories. Here's a hint. I'll use my own dislike of the Interview With the Vampire TV series for comparison. If the person complains that "(this character) would never harm (this other character here)" you may want to listen. The story might matter to them. (This goes for Yennefer and Ciri and Lestat and Louis of Interview with The vampire). However if the complaint has to do with race (i.e. whining about Louis being played by a black man in Interview with the vampire), or sexuality... chances are it's not really about the story at all.

I've seen rants about how straight Jaskier "used to be" and I can't help but wonder if those people were able to keep a straight face (ha!) while writing it. It would be funny if they weren't serious. Honestly these ARE the same sort of people who used to insist Xena and Gabrielle were straight, or that Louis in interview With the Vampire was straight, or that John Constantine in the Hellblazer comics was straight (and those still existed until relatively recently.)

#The Witcher #Witcher #Youtube

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