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archieimagines · 2 years

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Imagine patching up Geralt after a hunt.

warnings: contains blood and injury! written by: jesse requests for Geralt and friends are open!

You've heard stories about witchers for as long as you can remember. The adventures they've had, the monsters they've slain, and the people they've saved. But also how unnatural they were, as no one was born a witcher but created. Whispers about how witchers are just like the monsters they kill would pop up in your village.

You weren't sure what to believe until the day you met one.

A very anxious bard had stumbled into your home carrying his silver hair friend with an arm struggling to support the other man's weight. If it weren't for the situation, you would've found it comical at the time. But as the village healer, you had gone to work, and from that day on, the White Wolf had been a recurring patient.

Geralt of Rivia was the first and only witcher to come your way, but about every year or so, he'd come back with a new wound for you to patch up. You'd come to enjoy his company, and despite the talk of your village, he was certainly no monster.

"Tell me, what was the beast that brought you to my home tonight?" You asked curiously, weaving your needle through the wound on the witcher's bare shoulder and carefully wiping away blood.

He craned his neck slightly, and his yellow eyes cut toward you. "A Bruxa. A kind of vampire that drains blood from men. They're always female."

You nodded without losing focus on fixing up his wound. "Sounds scary. Seeing that you're currently with me, I'd say you've killed the Bruxa. Though she got you pretty good, I don't think there'll be a scar."

"Scars don't bother me."

"I'm aware. You've got plenty on you." You chuckled, motioning to the few on his toned back. From what you've observed over the years that you've known the monster hunter, Geralt had many variations scattered on his body. Some older and some fresher than others, but you could see that he was very battle worn.

Geralt gave you a grunt in response just as you got in the last stitch. From every encounter you’ve had with him, it seemed that he had an excellent pain tolerance. You supposed that was due to his background as a witcher.

"That should do it! You probably won't take my advice, but do take it easy with the hunting. I wouldn't want you to rip a stitch," You reached over to a shelf, grabbed a vial containing a blue liquid, and handed it to him. "Though this should help with any discomfort. Drink a small sip of this when any pain starts acting up."

The witcher opened it and scrunched up his nose in disgust at the scent. "What's in it?"

You put your hands on your hips and laughed. "Nothing that'll kill you, I promise."

Geralt raised a brow at you before stuffing it into his trousers pocket. You shook your head at him and went over and plopped down in your chair, feeling your back relaxing after being hunched over sewing stitches in your patient.

"You should stay the night," You advised, looking back over at him. "It's rather late out, and I'm sure both you and Roach are exhausted from your journey."

Geralt raised a brow, and a faint smirk appeared on his chiseled features. "I'm surprised you remembered his named."

"With a name like that for a horse? How could anyone forget," You snorted, lifting your feet on the stool before you. "Besides, I think we trust each other enough not to steal or kill each other in our sleep, hm?"

The silver-haired man paused in thought for a moment before nodding. "I'll take you up on that offer, but just the night." He assured, gabbing his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Your eyes couldn't help but linger on his muscular build as he stretched. You've seen quite a bit of his physique, though never really looked. Blinking, you quickly averted your gaze and got up to your feet.

You scolded yourself for thinking like that towards Geralt. He was your patient and a good friend. That isn't any way to behave.

"You can have my parents' room just down the hall. It's plenty suited for you, and I'm just across if your wounds reopen or you even lack sleep." You assured him with a smile.

Geralt returned the smile, and you felt your face flush but blamed it on the fireplace. "You're too kind."

"It's no trouble," You waved your hand and chuckled sheepishly, hoping not to humiliate yourself in front of him. "I'm only being a good healer and host. Have a good night, Geralt of Rivia,"

You nodded towards him, and the witcher left you to yourself with a returning gesture. You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding, and wondered what had come over yourself just then.

#geralt imagine #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #witcher imagine #witcher x reader #requests open #written by jesse

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ladyannemarie5 · 8 months

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So... Remember my old post of WarLord!Geralt searching for the bard and discovering that Jaskier is Radovid's consort in Redania?

You can see it here

Well, I couldn't stop thinking about that and here's just part of what I've come up with so far.

Caution: Lots and lots of text. Almost 2k words.

-----

Geralt's first formal order as Warlord of the North is to search the continent for the bard Jaskier.

Five years have passed since Geralt last saw Jaskier. Five years since the mountain disaster and the day Geralt made the bard believe that the greatest blessing of his life would be to get rid of him.

Since then, Geralt has found his surprise child, resolved his issues with Yennefer and formed a new empire under his and the other witchers' command. And there hasn't been a single moment when he hasn't regretted pushing his bard away.

That is why, as soon as political things settle down and his mainly non-human subjects begin to form real households, the new warlord sends all available people to search for the man who made him White Wolf.

He knows from Yen, that Jaskier became the Sandpiper, so he has the witchers approach the smuggling network to help the refugees get to his new realm and also to gather as much information as they can about the poet's whereabouts.

They hear rumors and whispers about the famous bard Jaskier singing in taverns and famous courts, but every time they reach the last place where he was seen, it turns out that the bard has already departed. It also seems that 20 years at the side of a witcher have made him very good at running away from them without a trace.

Geralt grows more desperate by the day. He wants to apologize to Jaskier, he wants to tell him how sorry he is and how much he wants him to come back to him, because he is finally ready to stop running away from his feelings. He needs Jaskier by his side, either as his lover or simply as his friend. He just needs to know that the poet is safe and sound.

That's why his heartbeat stops for a moment when new information arrives from the bard. It turns out that Nilfgaard beat him to it and captured Jaskier months ago.

Geralt moves all his people to search for the place where the bard is being held prisoner until they finally find the small fort where their sources say he is. Geralt himself leads the attack.

Everyone is really confused when they break through the entrances and discover that there is no one alive there. There are only remnants that there was once a small army operating in the place but they fled some time ago.

Unfortunately, there are also remnants of torture in one of the fort's dungeons. Geralt feels an immense urge to vomit as he enters the place and the smell of Jaskier's blood reaches his nostrils. His eyes sting with tears of anger and sadness when he finds a piece of blue silk in one of the corners. His anger and grief increase when they find a funeral pyre on the outskirts of the site. Jaskier is gone forever.

Shortly thereafter, the University of Oxenfurt issues a statement mourning the death of its greatest teacher and legend, the bard Jaskier. Apparently, a Redanian convoy was on a reconnaissance mission when they found a fort with remnants of Nilfgaard troops. Upon entering they discovered that the soldiers had already left but had left the body of a man in one of the dungeons. One of the men, apparently a fan of the bard, recognized his belongings and alerted his superiors to the man's identity. Jaskier's body was burned by the Redanians due to the advanced state of decomposition. All that remained was a broken elven lute that was given to the university as proof of the poet's death.

Geralt demands that the lute be given to him. Eskel and Lambert are required to hold it when the dean refuses to give the instrument to the witcher on the grounds that Jaskier himself had left them to them in his will. The document firmly states that all of the bard's possessions were to pass to the university to dispose of as they see fit.

Geralt cries for the first time in years when he finds out. Officially, he has nothing left of his bard.

The Sandpiper network continues to operate as usual, at least for a while since the discovery of the fort, until something incredible happens: Redania enacts a new law saying that all elves, dwarves and other non-humans would no longer be persecuted, and could even choose to be legal citizens of Redania.

Years pass since then. Ciri, Yen, Triss and his brother witchers remain by his side and life on the continent continues almost unchanged as the White Wolf finishes consolidating himself as a monarch of a strong and prosperous territory. The hope that Jaskier will one day appear alive and singing about the Warlord every day fades. They hadn't seen the body and when Yen wanted to use a tracking spell with the lute just to make sure, it led to nothing.

And then politics suffers another attack: King Vizimir of Redania is murdered. Yen says that rumors point to his own brother, Prince Radovid, being the one who murdered him, as he was crowned that very night at the side of his lover, a random nobleman named Julian. Geralt does not doubt it. Humans are cruel and ambitious.

The obligatory mourning passes slowly, one day all the kingdoms (except Nilfgaard) are summoned to celebrate the new king and his consort. To the surprise of everyone in Kaer Morhen, the White Wolf and his entourage are invited to the celebrations. Yen and Triss say that it would be rude not to go, as Redania fully recognizes their kingdom unlike other territories, so it would be beneficial for Geralt to attend and seal ties with a kingdom as powerful as Redania.

Geralt wants nothing more than to stay in Kaer Morhen and continue to evade the outside world. Jaskier is no longer in it so there is nothing interesting out there. But he knows it's inevitable that he will attend the Redania celebrations, and Yen is right, it's a great opportunity. So he and his entourage leave for the kingdom.

They are greeted in a grand manner, just like any other monarch and his entourage. Redania has shown that he wants to form ties with Kaer Morhen, so Geralt decides that he will do his best to make it all go well. It seems that King Radovid himself and his consort will welcome them once they have settled in properly.

Geralt feels all the air leave his lungs, his head feels heavy and in turmoil, and he thinks he will burn Redania to the ground for such an offense. Next to King Radovid, stands a man with blue eyes and brown hair. A man resembling Jaskier stands right there, his arm resting on the king's arm.

He introduces himself as Julian Alfred Pankratz, formerly Viscount of Lettenhove, now royal consort to King Radovid.

Yen cannot help but advance to him with a murderous look. He magically probes him and in an icy voice lets them all know that he really is Jaskier, the bard dead years ago. Julian replies that it's really good to see everyone once again.

The welcome feast begins. Geralt can't take his eyes off Jaskier. The king and his consort act like any normal couple, both conversing with each other, together and very intimate. Geralt feels his stomach churn.

At some point in the night, Julian manages to sneak into Geralt's room. He silently asks the Witcher to verify that no one is listening and that there are no traces of magic around. Geralt confirms that they are alone.

Geralt has many questions, but he can't say any. Not with the man he thought was dead in front of him. But he finally gets something out of his mouth, asking for explanations.

Julian tells the witcher that after the mountain he traveled for a while by himself, but seeing the injustices to the elves and other non-humans made him want to do something. With his contacts in the RSS he became the Sandpiper. He would go back and forth from Oxenfurt to other places on the continent to recruit new people into the network. During his stays in Oxenfurt and thanks to Philippa and Dijkstra, he met Prince Radovid.

Geralt's heart breaks when he hears from the bard how lonely and desperate he felt until Radovid came into his life.

"By the time I realized it, I was lost and hopelessly in love with Radovid," he tells Geralt.

The warlord can't help but mention that the bard fell in love with a king-killer. Julian jumps to his consort's defense and tells Geralt everything.

Philippa and Dijkstra want to take Redania to war against Nilfgaard, they assassinated Queen Hedwig to make Vizimir give in to their advice, however, the king didn't. The two councilors then went to harass Jaskier, threatening his job as the Sandpiper to tell them the location of Geralt and Ciri, so they could use it as political leverage against Nilfgaard. Of course the bard refused.

So Jaskier was kidnapped and tortured by Nilfgaard to find out the location of Geralt and Ciri. Radovid, madly in love and worried about Jaskier, set out to look for him everywhere, until he was finally found dying in the fort. Philippa and her magic saved him.

Radovid, concerned for the bard's safety, proposed to him to fake his death in order to drive away all those who were looking for him, including the man who despised him on a mountain. Jaskier accepted on the condition that he stop pursuing the elves.

As the announcement of Jaskier's death shook the entire continent, he and the prince planned to leave the castle and travel together, away from the intrigues of the court. Vizimir, happy for his brother, immediately agreed to let them both leave as long as they accepted his help and communicated constantly. The night of their departure, Vizimir was assassinated.

Geralt is shaken when Jaskier tells him that Philippa and Dijkstra killed Vizimir so they could manipulate Radovid and take Redania to war. The new king is stalling as long as possible, but there is no denying the influence of both advisors on the king's decisions. Geralt snarls when he learns that the sorceress and spymaster are threatening the former bard's life to make Radovid do as they command.

Jaskier knows that Geralt hates him, that he is not complying with the one thing he has asked of him, but he needs him to get Dijkstra and Philippa out of the picture so he can save Redania and his lover from going to war. And so he lets the witcher know.

------

And well, that's it. At least until now.

I want to clarify that anyone who wants to write this has my absolute permission to do so, just tell me so I can read it because I definitely don't think I'll write it myself. If you want to comment on something, another idea, another point, an insult, change something to this. etc., you are welcome to do so. I don't usually reply much but I really do read everything posted on Tumblr.

Thanks if you read all this verbal vomit and apologies once again for the huge amount of words.

#I really wanted to put my version and give my ideas #a lot of text #feel free to take the idea and write it down #just tell me so I can read it #anything is welcome #you decide who jaskier stays with #but to be honest in my heart he stays with Radovid #jaskier #the witcher #radovid #radskier #geraskier #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #bunny plot

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artistsfuneral · 10 months

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The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.5

(canon typical violence below, mild)

Jaskier's breath caught in his throat and made him stumble. Unable to intervene he had to watch Aiden cast the familiar blue shock wave at the group of soldiers behind them. At once the men in front were thrown back, crashing into their fellow soldiers and creating a loud ruckus that made Jaskier's ears ring. Wind caught his hair, blinding him momentarily, as he cursed Aiden for his stupidity.

While the burst of Aard had certainly helped them to gain some distance from the soldiers, they could just have split up earlier than planned, to achieve the exact same thing. It took the soldiers hardly a minute before they were up and running again, this time yelling orders at each other about Aiden not being the White Wolf, but another witcher and therefore their new priority. Aiden who, despite him insisting on the opposite, was not yet fully recovered and still struggled with both his balance and restricted vision. Him being their primary target was a very bad, not good thing that would definitely lead to some unavoidable consequences. Jaskier cursed again, grabbed the witcher by his knotted sleeve and tucked him forcefully to the left, where the street parted into a busy crossroad. “Why on earth would you do that?!” He demanded to know, dodging a farmer's cart by a hair's length and pulling Aiden with him. The Cat could only look at him bewildered, Jaskier's worries completely flying past his head.

With a loud groan, the bard realized that Aiden, like every other damned witcher he had met before, had absolutely no sense for protecting himself. Jaskier had no idea, why he had thought otherwise in the first place. In that regard they all proved to be idiots again and again.

Finally reaching the market after what felt like forever, Jaskier zigzagged through the groups of people until he couldn't see the soldiers anymore. “Alright, we're splitting up now. You're of greater importance to them, because those prejudiced piss pots think you are stronger than me.” Aiden raised his eyebrows at that, but Jaskier didn't give him time to argue. “So don't get caught, alright? Be as inconspicuous as possible, disguise yourself if you can. I mean it, Aiden, I am not walking up that mountain on my own, because I will perish of boredom if you're not with me.”

“Whoa, there, shouldn't I be the one that worries about you?” The witcher asked, with a lopsided grin on his face. “You are a tiny, little human, after all.” Jaskier took a deep breath and let the imaginary weight fall off his shoulders. He knew he tended to be overprotective over his friends and family, but Aiden was right, he shouldn't worry too much about the other man. Cats were known for their excellent stealth. He'd probably scale the next building and hide away in the shadows of the rooftops until it was time for the two of them to meet at the other side of the city, were it adjoined the forest.

Feeling a little better about their situation, he grinned back at the witcher, “See you at sun-high.” And with one last wave, he dove into the crowds.

From then on everything felt a little bit easier. He was back in his element. Passing errand boys, dodging groups of chattering wives and stepping out of the way of heavily laden errand boys, Jaskier easily put more and more distance between him in the troop of soldiers, who's redanian armor made them stand out like donkeys among sheep. It was actually quite funny to watch them, how they stumbled around, fishing for some sort of authority the didn't have in a country that wasn't theirs. A troop of redanian soldiers against a single kaedweni innkeeper was one thing, but seeing them trying and failing to shoo away the three old women that were gossiping in front of a young lad that looked somewhat similar to Jaskier was the height of entertainment.

Despite his colorful outfit and obvious lute bag, hardly anyone spared him more than a glance. No matter what Geralt said, walking through a city with just enough confidence to look like you belonged there, but not too much to stand out, was an art form in itself. Truth be told, Jaskier might've only believed so because it took him years to perfect this skill. He was an expert in it now, though and when one of his pursuers came a bit too close to him, he calmly kept on walking, passing the man with just two other people between them. He followed the natural flow of people for a while, discreetly taking down every Wanted Notice with his name on it. Every now and then he tried to look up the rafters and roofs of houses that seemed rather climbable, without appearing too suspicious, but he never saw a hint of his Cat.

Maybe that was for the better, he willed his anxiousness to quieten. If he wasn't here, that only meant that he was already waiting somewhere in the forest. Sun-high wasn't that far away anyways.

He helped a young mother by picking up the knot doll her child had dropped and exchanged a couple of pleasant words while they walked closer towards the forest. Saying his goodbyes with a warm smile, Jaskier stepped off the main street and into a much smaller alley that lead to a few single story houses. He took his time to pet a tricolored barn cat, just as promised, before slowly but surely merging into the slim shadows. More and more aware of his bearings, he crept along the walls of houses and sheds, turning around and pretending to take a piss against a bush when a merchant rode by. Crude but effective. The only thing left that separated him from his goal was a wide dirt rode that carved around the forest.

Standing in the shade of a wooden canopy Jaskier remained still as a statue, eyes scanning through the underbrush, ears strained for any noise that didn't belong. The problem with that being, that everything inside a forest made noise and trying to figure out which once were normal sounds and which weren't usually fell into Geralt's domain. With his witcher hearing he could not only make out a rustling bush, but also listen for a heartbeat and identify it as either animal, human or monster. There was also the fact that Jaskier's sense of smell couldn't pick up anything than the stink of fox and the giant dung heap nearby.

In the end he just had to trust his instincts. And his instincts were telling him to worry.

It didn't take long for him to realize why.

It wasn't the forest that was off, it was the road. The sun was high in the sky, just starting to change from comfortably warm to hot, the market was full with all kinds of people and yet the road was empty. No wagons, no riders, not a single person to be seen. Someone was blocking off the path. Someone that held no authority over a crowd but could easily scare away any passerby. It could be a trap of course, but Jaskier had spent enough time singing in the barracks of Redania to know how they usually operated. The bard had always had a strong dislike for soldiers. Few of them were decent people these days. There was hardly anything knightly or chivalrous about them, as if they forgot what they were fighting for. Unlike them, Jaskier hadn't allowed himself to be controlled by his disdain and had followed his orders properly. Singing and performing in the barracks, listening in to every conversation that would meet his ears. He had learned a lot, almost too much, about how the soldiers really worked behind their pretenses. Cordoning off an area just big enough people on the outside wouldn't make out the noise their prisoners made when they were beat to a pulp, was certainly one of their favorites. There was an advantage though, Jaskier thought as he emerged from the canopy and walked right into the forest, nobody would be able to hear them screaming either. The only thing that kept him from smiling was the knowledge that whatever they had done to his Cat Witcher wouldn't be pretty.

And it really wasn't.

The camp, counting six tents and four horses, was built around an old tree, its trunk wide enough to withstand the hissing and spitting Cat Witcher that was chained to it. His linen shirt was torn during a fight, deep irregular gashes cut through his chest, the witcher's blood soaking into his clothes and the bandages underneath. Aiden was screaming with rage, struggling against his bindings without any sense to it, throwing his head from left to right, snapping his teeth at everyone that dared to come too close. His fangs were bloody, successful. To Jaskier's eyes it was almost alarmingly obvious that Aiden's aggression was mainly caused by pure fear and pain. The witcher's instincts had clearly taken over. He didn't even react to the bard when said one entered the camp. Five soldiers, one archer, turned towards him.

Oh I know. I know you want Jaskier to fight, but please take note, should you choose this, the next chapter will be detailed and violent. (and 100% skipable of course! I know not everyone likes to read that sort of stuff, don't worry, I got you!) The author craves blood.

Negotiating is always an option to keep this pg.

Also there's now a relationship bar in the drawing, so: Aiden/Lambert is set in stone for this fic, but Aiden/Jaskier or Aiden/Jaskier/Lambert is up to you, I will give you multiple chances for this, so don't worry.

please like and reblog if you voted✨🌿🌼✨

Told my brother about J and A hiding in the crowd of the market and he said „Erstmal ein Marktfrühstück und eine Weinschorle bestellen.“ and I was so tempted.

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 1 year

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If you're taking dialogue prompts then I would suggest Geraskier 20 and/or 45 and/or 92. ❤

20. “You are so unbelievably strong. So, so strong.”

45. “You lied to me.”

92. “My heart is beating… that’s cool.”

“You are so unbelievably strong,” Jaskier says from his spot thrown over Geralt’s shoulder, sounding a bit hysterical. “So, so strong. Do I weigh anything to you?”

With his hand that isn’t holding Jaskier in place, Geralt casts Aard to blast two guards rushing at them backwards. “Is now really the time for this, bard?”

“I think it’s always a good time to ogle handsome men who come to my rescue so valiantly.”

Geralt snorts and leaps off the scaffold onto Roach’s waiting back, dumping Jaskier across the saddle in front of him like a sack of potatoes. Roach doesn’t wait for his signal before she bolts, sending onlookers scattering as she gallops through the crowd. “I told you, bard, next time you ended up on the gallows for sticking your cock somewhere it shouldn’t, I was letting you die.”

“You lied to me.” Jaskier sounds far more smug than a man in his position should.

Geralt can’t argue with that. “The duke’s betrothed? Really?”

“She was quite pretty and she liked my music.”

“Is that all it takes?”

“Well, I am a sucker for a pretty face.” Jaskier cranes his neck to bat his eyelashes at Geralt.

“You’re a dipshit is what you are.” An arrow whistles by his head and Geralt twists around in the saddle to cast Igni at their pursuers.

“It won’t happen again?”

“Now who’s lying?” Geralt urges Roach to run faster. He doesn’t pull her to a stop until they’re well out of town and the sounds of shouting have faded behind them. Only then does he leap down from her back to untie Jaskier’s ankles and wrists.

“Ugh.” Jaskier slides off of Roach’s saddle. Geralt catches him around the waist to stop him from falling. “You finally let me ride Roach and you treat me like a sack of potatoes?”

“You alright?” Geralt pats him down to look for injuries.

“Well, my heart’s still beating.” Jaskier presses his hand to his chest. “That’s nice. Besides some bruises and scrapes, I’m fine. I’d say of all my imprisonments, that one was probably in my top ten. Maybe even my top five, since it ended with me being thrown over a handsome man’s shoulder.”

Geralt closes his eyes. He doesn’t know why he still keeps this peacock around. He especially doesn’t know why the thought of losing this peacock to a hangman’s noose scared him worse than anything has in a long time. “Just don’t let this happen again.”

“I’ll do my best, but I can make no promises.”

“Here’s a promise,” Geralt says. “Next time your fool decisions get you sentenced to death, I’m leaving you.”

“Sure you will.” Jaskier throws his arms around Geralt’s neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for saving me, O Dashing White Wolf.”

Geralt can feel Jaskier’s heart beating against his chest. It almost makes up for the fact that he smells like a man who spent a week in a prison cell. “Any time, Jaskier.”

He doesn’t miss Jaskier’s triumphant little smile.

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ghost's writing #prompt fills

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shy-urban-hobbit · 9 months

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There it was again; Aiden’s fingers tapping out a now familiar rhythm against Lambert’s bicep before sliding down to rest on top of his hand as they dozed in the sun. It had started shortly after they’d been reunited on The Path, a scarcity of jobs forcing them apart for a few weeks in an effort to cover more ground to find paying work (a gamble which ended up paying off as they both found pretty lucrative contracts in opposite directions).

Tap – pause - Tap tap tap tap – pause – tap tap tap.

Lambert mentally shrugged, too comfortable to think on it too closely.

Lambert could feel himself slowly going crazy. He’d finally asked Aiden about his new habit after he’d been tapping against Lambert’s chest incessantly during their drawn out goodbye. The Cat had merely smirked in response and told him “You’re a smart pup, figure it out.” Before kissing the end of Lambert’s nose and mounting up, turning his horse Southwards. Lambert had stayed where he was until the other was just a speck on the road.

That was how he’d found himself in Kaer Morhen’s library, surrounded by books and paper and tapping the rhythm out again for the thirtieth time that hour.

“Well, this is a sight I never thought I’d be met with. Lambert reading. Should I be checking you with silver about now?”

“Fuck off, bard.” Lambert sighed like an exasperated parent.

Jaskier merely grinned impudently from where he was leaning against the back of one of the chairs, “What’s all this?”

“Research.” Lambert answered curtly.

“For....”

“Nothing.”

“Research for nothing. Melitele’s bosom you must be bored.”

“Jaskier. Either sit down and shut up or go and bother Geralt.”

Jaskier mimed locking his mouth before taking a seat opposite the youngest Wolf, making a show of leaning back and looking around at the overcrowded shelves, “Soooooo....how was Aiden when you parted ways?”

“Fine.” Lambert put down the old journal he’d been flicking through in an attempt to find clues (maybe it was some old Witcher thing Vesemir had forgotten to teach them seeing as it wasn’t directly linked to monster slaying) before tapping the rhythm out again.

“What’s that?” Jaskier asked.

“Something that damn Cat told me to figure out and when I see him, I'm throwing him to the nearest drowner.”

“Oooooh, a riddle!” Jaskier gave an excited wiggle, attention well and truly caught, “Perhaps I can help? I am a master wordsmith after all.”

“No words involved in this, master wordsmith.” Lambert said, just to be contrary.

“Don’t be too sure.” Jaskier leaned forward slightly, “Humour me.”

Lambert tapped it out once, and then twice again at Jaskier’s request before the human’s expression morphed into one of childlike glee.“I do know this! Oh, I haven’t used it since I was at Oxenfurt, but I know it.”

Lambert felt his eye twitch, because of course it was just his luck Geralt’s bard would know it.”

“Well, what is it?”

Jaskier’s smile shifted, “Aiden told you to figure it out. I’ll help you, but I’m not telling you the answer. Oh, Lambert.” The Wolf swallowed. He'd had no idea the bard was capable of looking devious as he continued, “I think you’ve just become my main source of entertainment for the winter.”

Lambert shared a look with Eskel as Jaskier left the hall, throwing another declaration of love towards their white haired brother as he did so. They had nothing against the casual displays of affection per se, but you knew it was becoming a problem when even Eskel the not so secret romantic was starting to find it a bit much. Geralt had merely shrugged in the way that meant he was just as clueless as the rest of them when his brothers questioned him about it.

“Alright, what are you playing at?” Lambert had asked him one night, the bard blinking up at him guilelessly, “You said you’d help me with, you know, and all you’ve been doing is swooning over Geralt.”

“Lambert, love. I have no idea what you are talking about.” Jaskier replied slowly.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. The other day in the library.”

The bard sighed through his nose petulantly before walking away, muttering something about how he was this close to pushing certain dumb Wolves down the mountain.

Lambert stared at the note. It was actually for Geralt but was it his fault Jaskier had left it out on the main table in the hall for the whole world to see? He blinked as he took in the last three words, the thick black line of ink underneath them making them impossible to miss. Melitele’s arse, now that he was seeing it written down, Jaskier wouldn’t have to push him: Lambert would quite happily throw himself down the mountain, cursing himself the entire time for missing something so simple.

“You’re early!” Aiden exclaimed happily as he leaned down to throw his arms around Lambert, letting the other man pull him down from his horse and into a proper embrace, the taps quickly following, as expected.

Lambert tilted the Cat’s face up with a whispered, “You too.” Feeling Aiden grin into the kiss as Lambert tapped gently against his temple.

Tap – pause – tap tap tap tap – pause – tap tap tap.

I – love - you

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert

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eggcompany · 3 months

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How can I Resist?

"Not when there was just miles of perfectly warm and snugly witcher laid out right there." Jaskier likes to play with his Witcher

Jaskier had been bedding the White Wolf for a few years now. A few Summers. But this is the first time he’s seen his witcher so... relaxed. Up in Kaer Morhen. He had met the two other witcher's and the eldest of them all earlier. But now he and Geralt were up in his room. Geralt was spread out in front of the fire in his smallclothes, he was laying on a rather impressive pile of furs. Jaskier was sat at a small table writing in his journal. He didn’t get very much done though. Not when there was just miles of perfectly warm and snugly witcher laid out right there. Geralt was nearly asleep by the time he heard the rustle of clothes being shucked off, then a very friendly bard was flopping down on his left side.

“You just looked far too perfect for me leave you be.” Jaskier said has be turned to face the older man. He started tracing his fingers over a few scars that sat on Geralt’s sternum and chest.

“’was gonna sleep.” Geralt said in a very low and soft tone.

“Oh a nap would be just lovely, dear. Do you want something to drink or anything before you rest, my love?” Jaskier sat up a bit more but a sword callused hand wrapped under him and pulled the bard down onto Geralt’s chest. Jaskier hummed and cuddled into his witcher’s chest and started to doze. Right before the bard was asleep he pressed a single kiss to whatever skin was near his face.

However that skin was apparently a sensitive spot because soon the bard felt a shiver run down Geralt’s body. He felt Geralt’s hand that wasn’t wrapped around him come and cover that spot. That interested Jaskier.

Jaskier lifted that scarred hand away and kissed that spot again with a bit more pressure. Geralt’s breath hitched a bit and he push his chest up a small bit.

“Sensitive? Oh my dear Geralt that’s just adorable.” Jaskier said as he lifted up and placed his hands on either side of his witcher’s shoulders. He lowered himself and started kissing all over Geralt’s chest.

Geralt wiggled and moved his chest away from the kisses but also pushed up toward the bard’s attack. He let out little whimpers and small “Jask” and “oh”s.

Jaskier had his fun for another few seconds and then he pulled back and looked at Geralt’s face. Pupils big and round, bottom lip being bitten, an almost blush. A blush that would be there if it could be.

Jaskier threw one of his legs over the witcher’s waist and oh. Oh that’s a lovely feeling.

“Geralt you’re harder than a rock. You really like it that much? Gods your wonderful.”

Jaskier rocked a bit back onto the hardon that was right under his ass. He could feel the heat through his pants and Geralt’s smallclothes.

Geralt turned his head and looked away. His hands flexed in the furs, as if he was nervous.

“Well, sweet Geralt, let me continue” Jaskier said so sweetly before he started sucking hickies onto Geralt’s chest and nipping and licking at his nipples. Geralt was almost thrashing under him. Moaning loudly and holding onto the bard’s hair. Jaskier simply pressed his hips down once before Geralt pulled at his hair and pulled him into a kiss.

When they pulled apart Geralt was panting a bit and looked very far away.

Jaskier bent down and kissed his nose.

“Very cute. Now let’s get you washed up and into bed, dearest.”

#fanfic #egg_company #smut tag #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #geraskier fanfic #geraskier smut

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thelustybraavosimaid · 1 year

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Who needs actual foreshadowing?! All you need are vibes!!!

Jon expressed a desire to repair Winterfell:

The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell's muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins. (Jon XII, ASoS)

Arya thinks of Winterfell and has memories of its people when asked about the smell of the candles when in the House of Black and White:

"[...] If they are afraid, the candles soothe them. When you smell our candles burning, what does it make you think of, my child?"

Winterfell, she might have said. I smell snow and smoke and pine needles. I smell the stables. I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. I smell the crypts where the stone kings sit, I smell hot bread baking, I smell the godswood. I smell my wolf, I smell her fur, almost as if she were still beside me. "I don't smell anything," she said, to see what he would say.

"You lie," he said, "but you may keep your secrets if you wish, Arya of House Stark." (Arya II, AFfC)

Bran knows that Winterfell is not dead, like him:

Beyond, the tops of the keeps and towers still stood as they had for hundreds of years, and it was hard to tell that the castle had been sacked and burned at all. The stone is strong, Bran told himself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, he thought. I'm not dead either. (Bran VII, ACoK)

It's Bran who knows the castle like the back of his hand because he is a squirrel:

When he got out from under it and scrambled up near the sky, Bran could see all of Winterfell in a glance. He liked the way it looked, spread out beneath him, only birds wheeling over his head while all the life of the castle went on below. Bran could perch for hours among the shapeless, rain-worn gargoyles that brooded over the First Keep, watching it all: the men drilling with wood and steel in the yard, the cooks tending their vegetables in the glass garden, restless dogs running back and forth in the kennels, the silence of the godswood, the girls gossiping beside the washing well. It made him feel like he was lord of the castle, in a way even Robb would never know. (Bran II, AGoT)

Let's stop pretending that the only one who is fit to rule the north because she built the castle out of snow. That's beautiful, sure, but all of the kids are attached to Winterfell. That's their ??? fucking home????

Also lmao she is not associated with the winter rose tale. That is told to Jon because it is a clue about his parentage. The Stark maiden + Bael the Bard is analogous to Rhaegar and Lyanna, and there isn't a single mention of blue roses in Sansa's chapters. The one who is only associated with blue roses is Lyanna, and she was even holding some as she lay dying. There has to be narrative purpose for this kind of thing, not loose associations simply because Sansa is a Stark daughter.

And I mean...Robb's will is not there without a reason. This is a major plot point. Robb likely disinherited her because he did not want the Lannisters taking control of Winterfell/the North. I mean this was talked about already:

"A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her." His mouth tightened. "To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north."

And Catelyn agreed.

"So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the Imp, but what of Arya? By law, she comes after Sansa...your own sister, trueborn..." (Catelyn V, ASoS)

Imagery is not enough, sorry.

#asoiaf #I'd also like to mention that arya enacted stark justice by executing dareon for desertion #but i guess that means nothing

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thedemonofcat · 1 year

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(Essentially, that scene from Avatar the Last Airbender when Azula taunts Sokka by revealing that Suki was captured. My intention is to write a Geraskier version of that, but I had yet to figure out what a full story would entail)

"He called your name," Rience spoke calmly in a manner which seemed creepy and yet unnerving.

Geralt stood still, his body tense and ready to move. He knew this was his opportunity to escape, and he had to act quickly. His mind raced as he considered the danger of staying any longer. Ciri and Yennefer were with him, and he had to ensure they were safe.

Despite the urgency of the situation, something within him held him back. It was a voice that spoke to him, telling him to stay and listen to the firefucker's words. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important that he needed to hear.

Geralt's heart raced as he tried to identify the Niflgaardian prisoner to whom Rience was referring. "My favourite prisoner used to mention you all the time," Rience had said, his words seeping into Geralt's mind like poison. Who could it be? The thought of someone being locked up and talking about him made him uneasy.

Rience's words hit Geralt like a sudden blow. He felt as though the air was being sucked out of his lungs. "The Bard was conceived. You were going to come to rescue him," Rience revealed, his voice laced with a hint of malice. Geralt's heart sank as he tried to understand what he had just heard. "Of course, you never came, and he gave up on you."

Jaskier was in the hands of Nifflgaard.

They had his Bard.

There was something wrong with this. Jaskier was supposed to be in a safe place. This war is supposed to be far away, so he must hide somewhere far away. Geralt shouldn't have to worry about any kind of danger from Jaskier as he shouldn't be a danger at all.

Who said witchers don't have feelings. They would have to rethink their thought process if they saw the rage in Gearlt as he charged toward Riences, with Yennefer able to use his magic to hold the other mage in place.

"Where is Jaskier" Geralt demand to know, only to be meant with silence. "Where's Jaskier? Answer me"

Geralt's fury was so intense that he was confident he could crush Rience's head with only his bare hands if he wanted to. If he didn't get told where Jaskier was right in that second. It wasn't until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he could figure out what was happening.

"Geralt, he won't talk," Yennefer tried to reason with Geralt. Getting Ciri out of here now was the most important thing they had to do, and they could always begin their search for the Bard once they all got to a safe place.

But Geralt needed help with thinking straight. "Where are you keeping him" The witcher yelled.

"We need to go now," Yennefer said, "We'll find Jaskier later." As she spoke those words, Geralt could hear the rumbling of horses as more Nifflgaardian soldiers got closers.

"Geralt" This time, Ciri was the one to speak up. She had remembered hearing stories about the white wolf and his Bards and had even heard off a few of Jaskier's songs.

Hearing his daughter's voice, Geralt knew it was best to leave and get to safety. But, unfortunately, it was highly unlikely that Geralt could rescue Jaskier if he were in jail or dead.

So Yennefer got on her horse while Geralt and Ciri got on to Roach. The three roads off with Geralt already trying to devise plans to rescue his Bard.

#the witcher netflix #joey batey #geralt of rivia #jaskier the witcher #the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #anya cholatra #freya allan

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rycbarmerlin · 11 months

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SPOILERS FOR THE WITCHER S3 VOL. 1

Will be discussing Extraordinary Things, other Jaskier things and Vol. 2 predictions! It's a fairly long scroll!

----

I've been seeing lots of people giving their thoughts about Extraordinary Things so I thought I'd give my thoughts and interpretations.

Who is the song about?

People have been umm-ing and ahh-ing about whether it's about Geralt or Radovid (or other) but I definitely feel like it is about both of them. The premise of the situation is Jaskier is playing a few songs for Radovid and company, implying these are songs Jaskier has had in his repertoire for a while. This is where the song could definitely be interpreted to be solely about Geralt. However, from a kind of story perspective, I think the song works as a way to frame Jaskier and Radovid's romantic entanglement.

The immediate parallel I can think of for this technique is in episode 1 with Yennefer's narration of her letters to Geralt (which I LOVED🥹). The letters act as situational and emotional context for the viewer; they tell us where Geralt and Yennefer's relationship is at and an impression of the time passed since Kaen Mohren, all without bloating the episode with snapshots of these moments.

I think, therefore, Extraordinary Things acts as a look towards what Jaskier and Radovid could become, and what they could find in and through each other. Joey Batey said that he wrote Extraordinary Things to replace scenes of dialogue, because it could say just as much, if not more. Hence why I think the song reflects Jaskier's present/past/future.

"The greatest songs are made up of unspoken words of love / of them I have had enough"

These lines, I feel, are most definitely about Geralt. You only have to think of his set-up for Toss a Coin to Your Witcher and Jaskier's line "respect doesn't make history." His career became oriented by singing the praise of the White Wolf in epic ballad styles of quests and battles against foes. Of course, then comes the mountain™ moment and then Burn Butcher Burn. I think (depsite what the showrunners have said and that platonic line this volume) Jaskier has been in love with Geralt. Jaskier loves love, he loves people, why wouldn't he have loved Geralt? I still feel the pronoun usage in Her Sweet Kiss makes the song ambigious in its position regarding his feeling and whose perspective he is singing in. The "I forgive you" line in 3x04, alongside S1 Jaskier's "and yet, here we are" and "just trying to work out what pleases me" lines further contribute to this. Furthermore, as Jaskier confirms with Yennefer about Burn Butcher Burn, "Fine, yes, when I wrote it, it did come from the heart. Perhaps a broken one."

Now, returning to Extraordinary Things, Jaskier's role as a bard is different now - he isn't travelling the Continent trying to be a barker for Geralt. He is the Sandpiper, he has found his higher purpose, the thing he truly cares about and wants to make a difference with (*plays Song of the Seven.*) Those days of Jaskier following Geralt round on uneven terms are over. They have a different dynamic now so those Toss a Coin days, of them he's had enough.

Joey lingers on the line "of them i've had enough" which I think emphasises the feelings I mentioned above. He also beautifully expresses this kind of cocktail of bittersweet regret, longing, acceptance, self-awareness and defiance before singing the following lines:

With you I have enough / with you I am enough / I am enough

Radovid sees Jaskier as Jaskier sees Radovid. They both seem to be able to look beyond the carefully constructed masks they both put up. And yes, it certainly feels they both know that they can "take" each other's hearts, and "break" each other's heart as they're both playing a dangerous game. And yes, the way and time Jaskier sings the song, him and Radovid have only had a few scenes together, but I think this circles back to the fact of this song acting as a framing device for what Jaskier and Radovid could be.

Radovid's admission in episode 4 that Jaskier sees the best in people, while the truth, Radovid is implicating that where Jaskier is seeing the best in Radovid, there are the darker/more nefarious secrets and conspiracies which Radovid is embroiled in. But when you find that person that sees you as you are, especially when many people perceive you as this one-dimensional thing, that can throw logic and rationale out the window.

Regarding Radovid's/Jaskier's position this season, Radovid, I don't think, ever intended to catch feelings for Jaskier, and nor did Jaskier. Jaskier, I think is trying to use his position to protect the people he loves and protect the elves, trying to play both sides. Ultimately, I don't think this is going to work. I feel the season (and Time of Contempt which is the Sapkowski novel the season is predominantly based upon) is all about the reality that you have to pick a side, neutrality is no longer an option, and from what Joey has said, Jaskier is not as good at all this political manouevering than he thinks.

My personal prediction for Vol 2 and what could happen is that Jaskier may find himself in trouble with Dijkstra and Radovid will use his position to get Jaskier out of it. It may be a case where Radovid betrays Jaskier (as one feels is bound to happen) but, as I said, Radovid would ultimately save Jaskier as his kind of 'redemption' moment. Their romantic entanglement feels doomed, but the fact that these feelings can blossom and bloom in such a time of war and struggle and violence is hopeful in a way.

It's not a want / it's a need / it's paying no heed to what others say / to sing

This line almost adds to that feeling of doomed romance - they're playing "no heed" to what would be expected of them (a standard or uncomplicated romance). I also love this line in the context of Jaskier's conversation with Yennefer in Oxenfurt when he is discussing the persecution of the elves. Being queer makes him an 'Other'. Just being in a nonstraight relationship, he is "paying no heed" to the kind of relationship ("song") he is expected to have.

My final thing, slightly unrelated, is that I reallllly hope Jaskier and Rience have a scene together in vol. 2. I am so pleased that Jaskier's trauma from Rience has been discussed so I would just love to see Jaskier in a situation where he is confronted with it - and hopefully sticks it to Rience!

And thus indeeds my far too long ramble about all things Jaskier. Time of Contempt is one my favourite books ever but I didn't want to cross-reference my thoughts with it too much as that is even more spoilers. If you've made it this far, I would love to have a chat about what you all think! Obviously this is just my interpretation and i'm an english graduate so will find any excuse to write an essay lol. Now the wait for vol 2...

END OF POST!!! YOU ARE SAFE

#the witcher #the witcher spoilers #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season 3 spoilers #jaskier #jaskier spoilers #joey batey #radovid #jaskovid #extraordinary things #geraskier #close reading #i love when everyone has their theories so i thought i would be bold and impart mine!

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geraskierficrecs · 1 year

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End of the Year Updates (2022)

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

Links and descriptions under the cut.

In-Progress:

The Sin Eater

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

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

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

“All that and more,” Jaskier whispered.

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

The Fixer

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

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

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

Completed Multi-Chapter Works:

Lark of My Heart

“What do I smell like to you?”

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

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

Home. ___________________________

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

Call Me Sunshine (Jaskier/Eskel)

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

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

“You play piano?”

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

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

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

Dying for You (Again and Again)

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

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

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

With My Last Breath

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

Wolves and Men

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

Like he had on the mountain.

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

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

If Wishing Made It So

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

None of them came true. ———-

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

Series:

Villainous Universe

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

The Sentinel/Guide Verse

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

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

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

The answer was simple--and impossible.

There was a Sentinel here.

The Full Cops and Robbers Verse

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

The Witcher Soldier Verse

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

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

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

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

“Who the hell is Jaskier?” ___________________________

Or, the Winter Soldier AU.

A Light in the Dark Series

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

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

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

One Shots:

Star Crossed

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

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

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

“He didn’t come back.”

Burn For You

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

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

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

Gilded With Blood (Aiden/Lambert)

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

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

This was going to destroy Lambert.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Seducing Your Fiancé

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

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

I’ll Sleep Forever Next to You

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t Leave Me

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

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

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

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

Between One Heartbeat and the Next

Please. Please, not this.

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

“It’s okay… Geralt, you’ll be okay.”

Not without you.

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

You won’t.

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

Nononononopleaseno

Waiting for the Sun

Jaskier was dying.

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

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

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

Not a Damsel, Not in Distress

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

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

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

Frantic

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

His Witcher had been tortured.

———

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

Wrath.

A Blade in the Back

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

Only instead of a beast, he saw a bard.

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

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

The Sweetest Poison

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

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

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

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

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

Into the Jaskierverse Additions:

Interlude: The Thief

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

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

was

remade.

Not Without You

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

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

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

“Geralt?”

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

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

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

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wrongdodo · 1 year

Text

A Lesson in Alchemy

Pairing: Geralt x Fem Reader

Summary: You’ve never been a good alchemist, so it’s not surprising when your latest experimental potion leaves some… unexpected effects on your body. When the Witcher finds out about your predicament, how will he treat you? And will he agree to help?

Warnings: lactation, breast sucking, spanking, grinding, filth

Word count: 3.4k

Special shout-out to fantasy name generator for fictional plant names

Authors note: I’m really happy with how this turned out. I dared to have more fun with the plot, and I think the story flows much better. Lots of dialogue, which was fun to do. I shortened my paragraphs a bit, I feel like it suits tumblr better. I made peace with longer sentences too, so I hope everything reads okay. Please let me know what you think, I’d die for feedback.

18+ only beyond this point…

When Geralt finally returns, you can actually hear the sigh of relief that leaves your body.

He’s often gone, slaying beasts and earning coin; such is the life of a supernaturally enhanced monster hunter. You thought coped better than this - but after over a week of waiting, you’ve become startlingly aware just how difficult his absence has been on you this time. Although, in fairness, there’s a pretty good reason for that.

It’s late when the Witcher and the Bard enter the keep– the sky outside is pitch dark, but despite the late hour, the atmosphere of Kaer Morhen instantly picks up. It even begins to feel merry.

Jaskier stumbles in first, calling out and plainly in high spirits. The musician is plastered, and clearly has every intention of continuing to drink well into the early hours of the morning. A bottle of Toussant Red is gripped in his hand as he makes his way over to a table; launching joyously into some sort of story that you have little time for. Youare much more interested in Geralt.

Anyone that knew the Witcher well would be able to sense his agreeable mood. Not even Jaskier’s behaviour seems to bother him. As the Bard begins topping up Lambert’s mead with red wine, you swear you see the warrior actually smile at his antics - and with something almost akin to fondness.

You suppose they’ve both indulged in a little wine during the long journey home. Whatever their recent business, it must have paid well. You’re pleased – the cheerier the Witcher’s disposition, the easier things might be for you. What you must admit to the White Wolf is not going to be easy to say.

Tired and dirty from the road, Geralt makes the familiar journey to his room – and you follow, hearing the Bard warbling as you leave. When you catch up to the warrior’s strides, there’s just enough time to slip into the chamber before the door shuts firmly. You turn and see him, his shirt already off and balled in his large hands. If he’s pleased to see you, he doesn’t show it.

“I need to bathe. Can it wait?”

Geralt grabs a washcloth - he’s not even looking at you as he draws it over his face, then under each arm, stopping to rinse the rag into a dish of water. His tied-back hair is still streaked with a little blood; pinkish in the low light. Your arms cross hotly over your chest, making your discomfort plain. It really can’t wait, you think with frustration. So, you tell him bluntly.

“It really can’t wait.”

Your words come with a startling conviction that manages to take you both by surprise. You have Geralt’s attention now, and he turns to look at you – nostrils flaring as he takes you in with every sense.

“You smell different.”

“Is it obvious?” you hug yourself doggedly - really not in the mood to be studied.

“It is to me.”

You sigh, noticing your own gritted teeth and reminding yourself how much you trust this man. The thoughts give you little courage, and there’s another graceless, awkward moment before you’re able to blurt out exactly what you came to say.

“Geralt… I need your help. I think I really messed up.”

His head is tilted now, sternly willing you to go on. You continue.

“While you were gone, I was… experimenting. With herbs.” You suck in a quick breath. “I made a potion, but… something’s gone wrong. I don’t know if I mixed it improperly, or what…” Your words tumble forth - like a runaway apple cart, it’s a battle to keep yourself on track. When you eventually meet his eyes again, he’s clearly bewildered.

“I think it’s easier if I just show you” you admit.

You undo the strappings of your leather overshirt, dropping it to the dusty floor and standing expectantly before him. The blouse beneath stretches thinly over your chest, revealing your body clearly and leaving very little to the Witcher’s imagination. Moisture clings to the fabric over each nipple, darkening the white-ish cotton. It’s not long before he says something, but it feels minutes, squirming under his watch.

“So this potion…” he approaches, boots thudding heavily on the floor. “You… rubbed it over your tits?” a wry smirk. He’s definitely a little drunk- that’s when his dry humour truly becomes unleashed. You, however, are not in the mood for games.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

His amber-yellow stare is fixed on you now, but it feels impossible for you to meet it. He’s close enough to touch, height easily looming above your smaller frame. You notice his arms, still streaked with dirt; a recent wound beginning to heal across his chest. He smells more than a little ripe.

Slowly, Geralt reaches out large hands to cup your breasts through your shirt - his curiosity piqued as he gently rolls them in his palms. His fingers find the outline of your hard nipples. When he pinches them, the fabric darkens, and a hot moan escapes your parted lips.

You mumble shyly. “That keeps happening…”

“Hmm. Explains your scent.” You can’t tell if he’s more fascinated or darkly amused. He feels the weight of each breast with interest, easily discerning that they’re a fair bit bigger than usual.

A playful smile – quite subtle and even more rare – touches his lips, and you know you’re in for more of his teasing.

“Let’s ask the Bard,” he decides.

“Absolutely not.” You hardly have to imagine what Jaskier’s foolish reaction would be. No, you don’t want to involve more people in this mess than you absolutely have to.

Geralt’s eyes flicker with amusement at your protests. He tugs experimentally at your nipples again, drawing forth another moan - and a little more fluid.

“Maybe we should lay you out on the breakfast table tomorrow morning. The Cow of Kaer Morhen...”

You can’t stop the roll of your eyes, your thin patience diminishing even further. Although you’d often found yourself wishing that the Witcher would be more talkative, right now you wished he’d shut up. His comment has made you a little nervous… but you’re fairly sure he’s not serious.

He continues to probe. “Has anyone noticed?”

You don’t think so. You shake your head in earnest.

“How long?” he asks, continuing to run his hands over your aching chest.

“About 3 days”

Geralt lets out a huff, and it’s just short of a laugh.

“They’ve noticed. They’re witchers.” He scoffs. “It took me seconds.”

If you weren’t already embarrassed enough, that particular revelation does nothing to help. A warm flush spreads across on your cheeks and neck.

“Are they sensitive?” At last, his voice indicates a welcome hint of concern.

“Incredibly.”

“Here?”

Your breath catches as he rubs both nipples with the back of each large hand. You nod, but in truth you’re afraid to tell him that you’re sensitive everywhere.

After completing his thorough, if not gentle, assessment, the Witcher steps back and folds strong arms over his barrel-like chest. You find yourself anticipating his evaluation eagerly. His enormous shoulders lift into a shrug.

“I can’t help until I punish you.”

Gods, he’s unbelievable sometimes.

“I hardly think that’s fair!” you oppose.

“You need to learn a lesson. Can’t have you endangering yourself.” His remark might have seemed oddly caring in any other scenario. Right now, it’s just damn annoying. A slight tilt of his head directs your eyes to the bed. “You know the rules.”

You pause, dumbfounded. You’re not sure what you expected, but punishment hadn’t been remotely on your mind. With a bothered sigh, you decide that there’s nothing else to do but lay on the bed. You let out grumpy huff, not really caring if he notices. Deftly, he gathers your wrists behind your back in one large hand. In your prone position, your belly is poked by the straw of his mattress. You can’t see him now – but it’s easy to feel his heat, his presence.

“This potion. How many plants did you use?” his inquiry comes as his other hand lazily traces over your buttocks through your linen trousers. You’re annoyed to discover that you don’t hate the feeling.

“I don’t know. 8, maybe 10?”

“Hm. Call it 10.”

The first smack lands hard, stinging your arse through thin clothing. It’s suddenness tugs a ragged gasp from your throat. There’s another. And another. You begrudgingly realise he intends to give you ten. How terribly clever.

Between Geralt’s blows, his palms running across the hot, stinging surface of your buttocks, over your clothing. You’re sure your arse must be quite red, and practically glowing through the loose weave of your trousers. At the forefront of your mind, you try to keep count, but it’s difficult to focus.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

The tenth comes briskly, landing over your aching pussy and producing a yelp. You’re positively wet, and he can definitely feel it. You’re probably soaking through the thin material between your legs. Gods, his hands are big. That man could pull you apart like hot, fresh bread if he wanted to. The thought gives you a little shiver. Even when he’s dirty and grimy from a long journey, the Witcher turns you on – maybe even more so when he’s a little grubby.

You take his punishment, as you have often done before. When he’s done, you feel your hands released, and weight shifts in the mattress as he sits up. Rubbing your wrists, you see him tap his lap expectantly.

Finally, he seems like he might be interested in helping.

Your movements are unsteady as you move over to the Witcher - you straddle his lap, putting you both face-to-face. He plants a rough kiss on your neck, inviting a murmur of delight. Strong arms wrap around your middle – something about those arms send you feral. It’s easy to feel the hardness of his cock through his leather trousers, and as the heat of the situation unfolds, you really can’t blame him for being so turned on. He can certainly smell your arousal.

Geralt doesn’t ask before moving his hands to hastily unfasten your blouse, and the clumsy, sudden manoeuvre takes you a little by surprise. If he notices any hesitation on your part, it doesn’t stop him. You wrap a sheepish hand around one of his. He growls with frustration against your skin, battling the fabric, and when his rough kiss meets your lips, he tastes a little like wine.

“Do you want me to…?”

Geralt huffs in reply. His hands pull at your blouse in exasperation. “I need to see what I’m working with.”

Grasping the sides of your top, he roughly tugs it apart with a sour ripping sound. When you yip in surprise, he doesn’t slow down – his hands waste no time finding your bare, heaving chest

Your skin feels hot – everything feels hot. Your head rolls back slightly as you give in to his touch, feeling sword-calloused hands smooth themselves over each aching breast. When you’re able to take note of his expression, it’s almost concerned.

“They’re hot. Any rash?”

You shake your head no, and wince as his fingers thrum over your hard nipples. Geralt’s eyes flash with fresh worry.

“They’re hurting you.”

“Not really,” your breath catches in your throat. You’re surprised by the husky quality of your own voice. “They’re just… fucking sensitive.”

“What exactly were you trying to do?”

You immediately choose to ignore his question – but it might have been easy to miss. The sensation of his hands running over your body is completely filling your mind to the brim.

“What potion were you trying to make?” he’s more urgent now. Geralt doesn’t like to repeat himself. It’s almost as though he’s taking your problem more seriously.

“I’d really… rather not say.”

A short growl. You’ve heard that sound before - it’s his irritated acceptance. Geralt carefully lifts each heavy breast in his hands, rolling them, sensing their weight like a miller appraising two bags of flour.

“What did you use?”

You’re not used to him being so talkative while he touches you like this, and it’s incredibly hard to focus as he handles your tits in his enormous hands. The hardness of his cock beneath you is very apparent. But you know better than to ignore the urgency in his voice. You screw your eyes closed and try to focus on his questions. It’s difficult.

“Lots of things. I used… little white flowers. Bryonia, I think.”

“Do you mean cajeora?” he responds. His hands don’t stop. You shake your head, and the gesture comes across a little frantic.

“No. Not that small.” He’s taught you a little about the plants that grow in the woodlands around Kaer Morhen… but any knowledge you had seems impossible to recall right now.

“What else?”

“Opporic leaves. And something purple.” You gasp as his fingers lightly graze the smooth sides of your tits. You blurt out - “Knot bloom.”

From the subtle grunts and growls he responds with, it’s easy to tell the Witcher is listening. He’s considering the facts, working things out.

“Honeysuckle?” he asks abruptly.

You eye him in annoyance. “Is that a joke?”

Geralt’s smile is easy. You wonder if he’ll ever tire of teasing you. Though maybe you could admit temper is shortened under the pressure. Emotionally, you’re as sensitive as your body is physically.

You can’t stop your hips when they wiggle a little on his lap. “I used a plant with red petals” you finally mumble, imploring yourself to remember.

“Beggartick?” his voice is suddenly less gentle now. “You shouldn’t-“

“No, it wasn’t that… I don’t think… Ah, I don’t know.”

He’s teasing your nipples with his thumbs again and you’re so fucking wet. It’s hard to focus. Gently, he tilts your chin and you’re comforted by the safety of his eyes. His voice is a gruff rumble.

“Think.”

You whine and squirm, truly grasping to remember the facts for him. Deep breath. “It wasn’t beggartick. But it sounds like it. Be-“

“Becuger leaves.” Wow, that’s the one. How could he know that? Even now, you’re warmly reminded of his impressive knowledge. The thought relaxes you a little. You’re so pleased that you trusted him with this. You’d trust him with your life, and often had.

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you do your best to answer each of Geralt’s questions. You tell him about the monk’s root. You tell him about the blood nettle – fresh, not dried. And for a moment you’re surprised at your own knowledge too. Time spent with the Witcher really has taught you a lot.

Something about his soothing concern has you softening. You have to admit that your resolve is a little weak… days of stress and worry have taken a toll on your mind. But even knowing this, you’re surprised to find tears begin brim against your eyes. When one rolls down your cheek, he takes notice and looks up at you. You inhale a deep, shuddering breath.

“Spare me the jokes now. Am I to stay like this forever?”

Geralt’s smile is almost warm in the low light of the room. “I do have some ideas.”

“Then tell me.”

“Well… I could take you to the nearest healer tomorrow… but Roach needs rest.” You nod with grave understanding. He continues.

“Yennefer is a skilled herbali-“

“No. Not her.” You don’t doubt that Yennefer would fucking love to lord this over you.

“That leaves one option.” he says. His tone is decisive.

“Fine, do what you must.”

He smiles. “Don’t be worried. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

When his lips finally meet your breast, you shudder in response – a weary, exquisite sigh floating from your open lips. Your sensitive flesh connects with his gentle, searching tongue gratefully – your back arches naturally, pressing yourself against him. When he begins to suck softly, the Witcher is pleased to find you taste as good as you smell. Little jolts flutter through you and bloom in your chest, just behind his soft mouth.

The Witcher’s arms feel protective, surrounding you, and he too feels your stress begin to melt away. Your own limbs find his broad shoulders, locating the back of his neck and willing him closer – tighter against you. As you grind against his hardness, you hear yourself mewl with sensation.

It’s not unexpected when your climax takes no time at all, and leaves your eyes glazed and watery with emotion. Your linen trousers are soaked now, and even you can smell the arousal between your thighs. You can’t stop a gasp of loss as he releases your wet nipple from chapped lips. He eyes you wryly.

“What? I told you I’m sensitive…” you answer through panted breath.

Geralt smiles as he covers your other nipple in his greedy lips. Your hands are draped around his strong neck, fingers creeping and tugging into his dirty white hair. He loves the way your body jerks – how it grinds and lolls against him like a rag doll. You feel your clit rubbing the hard cock inside his leather trousers, and allow it. The sensation is dizzying.

You’re completely pliant in his arms. Hands wrap around the soft flesh of your waist, pulling you hungrily down against to knead against his wanting cock. Now you pant as your joint pace quickens. It’s apparent that your second orgasm will crash at any moment.

Releasing you from his mouth, his lips find your outstretched neck as your head rolls easily back. He kisses, but when he nips there, you moan - the pleasure-pain tipping you over as you slither in his lap. The sound of Geralt’s own orgasm is stifled against you, groaning as he bites gently at your flesh. In your crazed stupor, you think that it’s probably a good thing that he hadn’t bathed yet.

Your eyes close into a secure feeling of bliss. It’s only apparent that he’s recovered from his own torpor when he kisses your cheek. You now realise how tightly you’re gripping his hair, so you release it gingerly from your delicate fingers.

“Better?” he asks.

You nod, lacking any words, just for the moment. You did feel better. Much better, in fact. It could be the final flutters of orgasm, but you felt.. unburdened. Dazed, you slide off his lap and collect your leather overshirt from the floor. The Witcher lies back, stretching languidly over the bed.

“Occlamom tea. It’ll help.” comes his gruff voice - delivered quite curtly.

Your mouth gapes now, eyes wide in disbelief. An antidote? He tells you this now?

“There’s some in the pantry.” He rolls over, meeting your eyes with a smirk that borders-on mischievous

Unbelievable.

“You… you absolute bastard.” you eventually manage to stammer – but even as you spit the words, you feel they’re completely unsatisfactory to convey your utter, utter irritation.

“You were stressed. I calmed you down.” Sitting up now, his amber-yellow eyes meet yours with a touch of amusement. “You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

You hate that he’s completely right. The guilt and worry of the last few days had gone – you have to admit how much lighter everything feels. In that moment, you’re struck by how safe you feel in his presence. It’s nice to have him back here – even if he can be a bastard.

“For the occlamom tea, you need to boil water...”

Your sudden hissed response stops him quickly.

“I know how to make tea, Geralt.”

Fastening the straps of your leather overshirt, you tug so hotly they almost snap. As you turn to leave, it’s his strong hand on your shoulder that stops you all-but storming off. Geralt’s eyes look deeply into yours now, and you know that whatever he’s about to say, he truly means.

“Don’t play with alchemy again.” His body is so close, his breath on your neck. You can’t escape the slither of guilt you feel, fearing his disappointment. “Poison is not a good way to die.”

“Right. I promise.”

Daring to plant a sweet-tasting kiss on his lips, you turn and speak to him a final time before you leave.

“Now please, Geralt. Have that bath.”

#the witcher x reader #geralt x reader #witcher fandom #the witcher smut #geralt smut #the witcher

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annmarcus63 · 1 year

Text

Geralt wakes up with a heavy gasp, sitting on his heels trying to discern the surroundings. Nothing seems missing, the camp is as he left it, before he passed out, that is. Roach comes to nuzzled at his side, in worry for his master, who pets her with affection, the witcher pushes her aside with a comforting pat and stands up. Nothing hurts, not really, There's only the faint memory of burning pain, and something he can't quite place, resting inside. His head hurts, he's having flashes of something, a sorceress. She's threatening him, no, not him, Jaskier, but the bard is not here, he's at the next town, waiting for him as accorded last winter.

What do you want from him? If you're here you surely you're aware he's under my protection

Bastard played with my poor heart

It is dawn, the birds have not yet woken up. Geralt finds his way back to the camp and begins to pack his things, leaving the metal pot for last. He heats a cup of water to wash off the gritty feeling in his mouth. He suspects a curse has been placed upon him. Though it seems, not a strong one. It's possible the sorceress wasn't expecting to face a witcher. No, she did mention the White wolf as her objective. And then, Geralt realizes that he can remember her words, but separated from each other. Every word makes sense, but when he tries to put them together, he fails to give them mening.

Roach finishes her breakfast, which consists on the patch of tall grass she slept on the night before, and the rest of the apple net that Geralt bought for her two days ago. "Sorry, girl. Once we get there, I'll make sure someone takes care of you." He knows the mare is tired and hungry, both are.

"Sorry, girl. Once we get there, I'll make sure someone takes care of you." He knows the mare is tired and hungry, both of them are. Four days on the road without proper rest and a decent meal takes its toll sooner or later. He prepares her, making sure her gear and saddlebags are well tied but not too much, she gets grumpier when the pressure on her belly makes her slow. He hopes to find Jaskier unharmed, and if he’s unharmed, oh how he long to shout at him for his stupidity. Jaskier’s cock is a natural trouble bringer, maybe he should cut it off for him, that way he'll never have to save his bard from himself ever again.

He arrives by noon. On the outskirts of town, humble little houses of farmers and minor merchants. Children stop their plays to look at him with earnest curiosity, mothers and fathers look at him with distaste. Despite Jaskier's songs, he's still an unwanted guest, although, it's nice to be look with distaste rather than with hatred.

He can distinguish the tall roofs from the wealthy houses and temples downtown. Surely, Jaskier would be waiting for him in the fanciest inn, but Geralt wouldn't go there, yet. If someone can help him with the aching feeling in his chest, that someone must be living outside of town. He asks around and yes, a young lad with muddy hair points him to an old house near a wrecked pig farm.

He can smell the characteristic scent of herbs, poison and magical ingredients before knocking on the door. An attractive woman with gray hair and brown eyes regards him with indifference. "Do you require ingredients, witcher? I'm short on a few of them" she says, stepping aside to let him in. She closes the door with a tired sigh. The house is rather small and has too many objects hanging from the ceiling. He bumps his head with a couple of them before settle in a safe corner. Geralt wonders sometimes is better to ignore the curiosity. A cat died once for it. Yes, he laughs internally at his own joke.

He takes a pouch full of coin and throws it at a small table next to her. She turns instantly to grab it and count the coins inside.

"I'm listening" she says with a satisfied smile on her dry lips.

"A sorceress pay me a visit last night. She placed something in me"

"A curse?"

"You tell me" The woman approaches him with her arms raised, to place her hands on his chest.

Geralt tenses at the unwelcome touch. She talks under her breath so quickly that Geralt can't understand and then she jumps with a joyous screech, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"This is gold. It's not a curse, witcher, is something far more disturbing"

"What is it?" Says Geralt, angry at her blissful way.

"It's not a curse. You surely must know that magic doesn't work the same on your kind" Geralt just glares.

"It is a simple spell. Neither harmful nor durable. A love spell to be precise"

"A what?" Fuck.

You'll stay away from him

Alright, alright. I'll go and leave him alone. After all, I already found his someone else

"A vengeful love spell particularly directed at someone close to you, of course." The sorceress explains. His mind stops when a nasty hunch settles in his guts.

Jaskier.

Unrequited love.

Vengeance.

Well, fuck.

"Can you get rid of it?"

"I'm afraid not. It’s a too powerful spell for an old rag like me. But there's is no need to worry. Based on your expression I imagine you know for whom the spell was placed" He'll kill Jaskier. No. He'll punch him so hard that his balls will fall off.

"You'll have to avoid this person until the spell worns out. Two weeks at least" Great, Jaskier is just around the corner. If he's lucky, he could slide through town without meeting him. He'll send him a message with some excuse.

But there is something missing "No, you are mistaken, I don't feel love for that person." He cares for the bard, sometimes a bit too much, but well, the fool worth the trouble. Most of the time. But it wasn't love, is it?

"It's a spell for you, but a curse to the other person." Apparently, his internal fight is visible "You'll love this person, knowing you're under a spell but you won’t be able to tell. The spell will disappear, and with it your love for them."

I already found his someone else

"A broken heart" Geralt whispers with a sinking feeling. Is Jaskier in love with him? No, he isn't. Geralt would have known. He can identify the gooey scent that accompanies love in all people. Like orange peles and guava left under the sun. Jaskier never smell like that around him.

"You'll only need to stay away from this person. Now, if you don't require anything else from me..." Geralt grunts while closing his eyes, in a futile attempt to ease the ripping feeling on his chest. It's unfair, so fucking unfair, not for him but for Jaskier. If he's really in love with the witcher then this will destroy him, Geralt will destroy him. No, Geralt would not allow it. He'll not hurt his friend.

He walks to the door desperate to leave the place, to leave the city. "Are you sure that four months will suffice?" the woman nods with a reassuring smile.

"Close the door behind you, please" And Geralt does.

The unpleasant smell of pigs and shit reaches his nose in a hot wave. Roach is tied to a small post in which he left her, she'll be really huffy when Geralt takes her back to the road. Damn, he promised her food and rest, she's tired, even when Geralt isn't anymore. Maybe he could ask the farmers to sell him a net of hay, but he's out of money. He was counting on the bard's money to rent a stall at the stable inn for Roach. What is he going to do? He sees the muddy lad from before carrying two buckets of water. He would send a message with him to Jaskier asking for money. No. Impossible. The idiot would come down running to meet him.

He would have to take a nearby contract in exchange for Roach being fed. Yes. It seems that's the better option, but first, to send the message to Jaskier. He searches for the famous muddy boy, when the most terrifying sound reaches his ears.

"Geralt? is that you, you gorgeous bastard?"Jaskier's voice

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt #jaskier x geralt #based on a old fic idea i had but can't find #lovespell #Geralt it's a good friend #a bit softer than WitcherNetflix #but still somber and taciturn #one of those ships where one guys is the moon and the other the sun #and the moon shines bright like a diamond nearing the sun

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ladyclwriter · 1 year

Text

Exile

Geralt x gn!reader x Jaskier

Summary: Geralt, your ex, didn't expected that Jaksier's new fiance was, well, you.

Angst, spicy mentionings, white wolf toxic behavior, Jaskier call's reader "daisy" ( the flower

Not even slightly close to any canon chronological line

He could recall perfectly those days. The sun always seemed to shine brighter when you were by his side, so those memories were all golden to him. Even the blue-ish white snow looked warmer every time he pictured you struggling to take your boots out of it. His smile was always genuine when he lifted you up to Roach, cursing about you could do it alone. Indeed, with you, his smile was always genuine.

Geralt didn't knew if his bard friend actually gave any fake smiles on his life, but he could see you had the very same effect on him. With one puffy arm around your waist, Jaskier laughed in pure joy, proudly showing off his partner while you didn't really looked any shy by his side.

The white wolf froze instantly as soon as you both entered the room. He died a little bit inside — if there was anything alive on him — once the realization hit, holding him where he was, standing far away near a huge marble cornerstone.

Minutes, maybe an hour after you arrived, he noticed you weren't as happy as he thought you were. Yes, you were still as shiny as back in the travelling times. Your smile was as pure as his friend's, and you two seemed like the perfect pair of two little happy canaries. Except for some forced smiles you cracked. Eyes drifting away from time to time, shifting weight from one feet to another. He knew those signs now. You were uncomfortable, maybe bored. And you probably didn't wanted to be there. Still, you laughed at your boyfriend's jokes, and even brought some up.

Geralt felt, for the first time, the weight of his body battling with gravity. He couldn't move his feets, couldn't take his eyes way either. And whatever those feelings inside him were, he was barely dealing with them.

Some bard started singing in another side of the room, Jaskier screaming something about being offended. It took 5 minutes to a duet start, and only then, the Witcher saw your eyes daze towards his. You were laughing at your boyfriend, but without any specific reason, your gaze got pulled into that direction. The whole world seemed to darken and freeze.

You would spot that silvery hair anywhere. The sensation of golden eyes fixated on you, sending shivers down your spine would always be familiar — maybe that's why you've been feeling so uncomfortable and terribly fighting to look at the direction it came. It was an accident. Something inside you guessed it, you knew he was there, even if you fought to believe and accept it. You didn't wanted to look at that specific point, but laughing and swinging with Jaskier, you lost the control of your curious eyes. And you regretted instantly.

As inconsequential and childish your boyfriend could be, he always knew when something was off. He did felt it before, but now he got it straight. “My daisy? Are you alright?”

You couldn't answer. Not when you suddenly forgot how to breath, starting to gasp for air, tearing up with a wolf staring directly into your soul with a grey frown. So you started walking, as fast as you could without calling attention, towards any sight of exit. Opening double doors, you found yourself in a balcony, desperately taking in the winds of the night.

“For fuck's sake, daisy!” he appeared on his puffy clothes, closing the doors behind him, rushing towards your crying self holding at the stone fence. “Are you alright? Anything happened? Did I did something wrong?”

Worried hands took your face gently, turning you to him, so he could search up the answer of his many questions. “Can you talk to me? Can you even breathe? Come on, my daisy, was it Barbara? I know she's a bitch. Was it that bitch?”

“Jaskier!” you exclaimed, silencing him instantly. But he succeeded at stealing a little smile from your lips. “Just... Just give me a moment”.

He held you still, blue eyes filled with worry, eagerly waiting to get the reassurance that no, he didn't did anything wrong. Anyways, some seconds later he walked away, not taking his gaze off you; hanging head with hands on the stone, trying to recover yourself. It took you long minutes to look up, thanking silently the night serene for embracing you. Then you smiled as you realized your favorite bard was there, looking at you all the time, with a puppyish face.

“Feeling better, daisy?” he asked sweetly. You agreed, back of hands wiping face. He didn't knew if he should break the distance, but give you your space seemed better anyways. “We can go home if you feel... Sick”

You felt like it, yes. But his quiet understanding made you own an answer to his questions. So, avoiding blue eyes, you mumbled. “I saw my ex”.

He paused. Blinking, processing and recalling all those stories you told him at your most vulnerable moments. “That one who left you alone in the woods?” shook your head yes. “Oh no. I'm so sorry, my daisy. I would never guess he was from royalty”

“He isn't. But it's not your fault, so don't be sorry” taking a deep breath, you approached his red-cotton dressed body. Arms around him, head under his chin, you inhaled his perfume.

Jaskier was safety. You never, never had that fear of waking up and not seeing him by your side. You never hesitated before saying something, and mostly, you didn't even had to say anything. You were always shining with him, but he never required you to. And he was the one there with you. “I didn't wanted to ruin your party, dandelion”

“You know I'd trade all these peacocks for only two minutes with you”

“No need. You have me forever” meeting gazes, the smiles were as reciprocal as all your feelings. And just when you delicately approached faces to kiss each other, the doors got open.

Shutting your eyes closed, your grip on Jaskier tightened as you desperately kept taking his scent. You knew who was there.

“Gods!” your boyfriend almost screamed. “Geralt of Rivia himself! And in fancy boots! But, um, as much as I love meeting old friends, I'm busy right now”

But you tilted your head up, frowned at him with a hint of anger and intrigue. “Friend? He is your friend?”

“A very old one, indeed. What's the matter?” his smile was so pure and innocent that you could barely believe your ears. Then, just because it was necessary, you looked towards the intruder. He looked as shocked as you were. “What? Why do you two look like if you discovered the queen's most nasty secret? Is there something on my- oh.”

The three of you were frozen, taking in whatever the destiny arranged. “Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck” he put one of his hands on his forehead, the other one on his waist, taking some steps back.

“What the fuck is happening here?�� you asked, even if no one seemed to have the answer.

“This must be witchcraft” you trembled as you heard his low, husky voice. Now, his eyes avoided you.

“No fucking way. You two will tell me what the damn plan you made!”

“I didn't see Geralt in ages!” the bard physicalized the time with a gesture of hands. “I didn't even knew he was still alive. I didn't knew you two knew each other!”

“So do I!” you shot back, a little louder than you wanted. Now you were with a hand on the forehead, turning your back to the two. “For god's sake”

The three of you stood there, no one daring to say anything or move a finger. Indeed, the only one who didn't looked conflicted and full of things to say was the bard. So, he cleaned his throat, crossing arms with the cold breeze.

“Geralt, you... What did you wanted here?” cutting the chat, the blue eyed asked, very low and cautious. He was conflicted, seeing his love and his only one friend there. Even more when he knew your side of the story, and knew the Witcher way much more than he wanted to.

Gold and blue sky met, in a silent short conversation. “I wanted to talk to your partner”.

“We have nothing to talk” you stated instantly.

“Look, I know what I did, but I can explain-”

“No need to. Now get back inside there”, you said it like an order, without even hesitate.

Geralt looked at his friend, looking for any help. Jaskier loved you enough to know he had to interfere. You would never be able to move on from your past relationship without this talk. So, he walked until he was in front of you, and touched your arms, lightly rubbing his thumb. “My daisy. We both know this is for the best. Please, give him a chance”

“Why? Why should I? The facts are facts, and I'm with you now. There is nothing to discuss” you insisted, but Jaskier didn't looked like he would give up.

One hand on your face, he looked into your eyes before kissing you. Gently, slowly caressing your lips with his, making your body warm even with the cold of the night. “Yes, you are with me. Just talk to him, and we're going home. Alright?”

Home. How you fucking wanted to be home. Knowing he was stubborn, and always did anything he said he would, you turned around to face your past. Crossing arms and leaning your body against your boyfriend's, you raise an eyebrow. Geralt took a minute to watch his old friend wrapping arms around his old lover's body, breaking his very own heart a little more.

“A monster was following us. Something you could've never faced, I could've never killed with you by my side” started after cleaning his throat, now staring at you, and only you. “Indeed, I had to battle with things that would use you as a weakness. We would not stay together further”

“So you leave me in the middle of the night, in that creepy fucking forest, full of wolves and moving trees?” there was no way you could pretend you weren't angry.

“I said, a monster was following us. I got away before he attacked, and my plan was to come back after defeating him” turns out I didn't, he wanted to say. “But the battle took me away from the camp, and there were more of them. I finished after dawn, and realized I went too far”.

You pressed yourself more against Jaskier, who held you stronger, noticing your anguish growing. He gave kisses on your cheek, neck, and put his nose in your scented hair.

“You would be gone before I came back. So I took it as a... Fate sign. And moved on”

“Just like that? Like if I was nothing?” oh, how it enraged you. Fighting tears, your voice got as high as it could without becoming a shouting. “Like if we were nothing?!”

“Don't you say things like that. You know damn well what you meant to me” he took one step closer, pointing a finger towards you. You too stepped out, but Jaskier kept you close.

“Guess it wasn't that much, since you just fucking left!” you screamed the last words, involuntary tears in your eyes. “I almost died, Geralt. Those fucking wolves and branches almost took my fucking life!”

“Do you really think I do not feel fucking miserable everyday? Don't you think I feel guilty for loosing you? No, you could never know how I asked for death every night I spent without knowing if you were safe” spitting words, you could see golden eyes shine with tears.

“You could never know how I wanted to kill you for believing that you left me to die”, you whispered.

You fainted, covered by bites and deep cuts and blood. Woke up at an stranger's house, a family of merchants who took care of you. Of course, you had to pay back by working for them for a while. And it was at one of these jobs that you met Jaskier. He was singing “burn, butcher burn”, and even after beating up some men that owed the family you worked for, you couldn't stop laughing at him.

Now you weren't. The pieces clicked together in your head, and you stared at your boyfriend. So the song was about Geralt.

“As much as I want to clear things between us, I don't think none of us wants to fight now” none of us are ready to get rid of our bad bloods, for they are the only thing keeping us apart. “I came here to ask for your forgiveness. I know you are with Jaskier, and I don't plan to be friends or anything. Just, please, forgive me, so I can try to move on like you did”

“You won't stick too long to be friends, anyways” you shot, glancing back at him. “Oh, and I know how much of a shitty friend you are. You and your sharp tongue and cold heart”

“You never complained of my sharp tongue those times” it came out in a growl. He only realized what he said when both you and Jaskier looked deeply offended, his eyes falling to the ground. “I'm sorry”

You crossed arms, feeling one of your boyfriend's hands caressing it. Breathing deeply, you started pondering. Indeed, he had a sharp tongue in all possible meanings. You would never dare to try to be friends, for sometimes, in the middle of the night, you missed him. He felt the same.

With him, you felt at the top of the world. Living dangerously with adventures and heavenly tent fucks, he was your very own crown and a home that never settled down. Now, you were both your own exiles. At least, you had the sweetest man alive by your side. And Jaskier did had a sharp tongue too.

“I know it doesn't bring any good to me to hold a grudge against you, so you can have my forgiveness” you said lowly, a big and bright smile growing on your boyfriend's face, who kissed your cheek, happily.

“It's the right thing, darling. I'm happy for you” indeed, every single time you talked about your ex, he wouldn't stop buzzing about the forgiveness part.

Taking Jaskier's hand, standing by his side, your face was like stone, certain of every word. “Now go, Geralt. I don't want to see you ever again” even if something inside you did wanted to.

“I'll go. I'm leaving by the side door as soon as the musicians start. But” oh no. “Can we talk alone? Thirty seconds”.

“No” you answered instantly. Then you felt Jaskier's hand slipping away from yours, for whatever reason popped on his head.

Despair made your body shiver inside, blood heating no longer just with hate, scared of anything that would come from those “30 seconds” that Jaskier strictly mumbled in a possessive way, before closing the doors.

You froze, but Geralt walked towards you with the most intense glaze ever. He always looked like a predator whenever you turned him on back at those times, and it would always drive you crazy. But now, years after that burning passion, you did felt like he was a wolf. Golden eyes piercing, burning every trace of you. But he didn't stopped too close.

“Daisy. He calls you daisy” whispered on his very own growl way. “I called you love”

“So what?” your voice barely came out, a whisper as you cursed yourself silently for wanting to feel his hands in your body, fighting the urge to touch him. One step closer, he lowered himself, your faces inches away.

You closed your eyes, not because you expected one of your hot, messy kisses. But for you couldn't look at him that close. Jaskier is outside. He trusts me.

“I'm his daisy, and he's my dandelion”

Geralt took a deep breath, warming your ear as he bent down even more. Not daring to move one finger — he knew he didn't had to —, he breathed again, showing your urge for him was reciprocal. At that little second, all your time together came back to your mind. The screams, whether for anger or pleasure. The crying and laughing. The back-to-back battles, the stargazing. Every single moment came back at you, turning your whole self to crumbs. He knew it, for he felt like that too.

“And you are my love” for fuck's sake, you didn't knew his voice could get that low. You shivered, trembled visibly, frowning to control your emotions.

You almost fell to your knees. It was hard to come back to the crowd, having to kiss Jaskier wildly to not cry on his arms, to not regret everything you did all your life, to keep focusing on your healthy and happy relationship. He knew what he was doing, and you both knew it was truth, when he said, before walking away:

“And I will, forever, be your love too”.

I feel like this could've been so much better worked and written. Please tell me your thoughts, my insecurities are eating this whole thing 😁

Anyways, thank you so much for reading. Reblogs are appreciated 💕💕💕 love ya

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @sunndust

#the witcher #the Witcher fanfic #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #love triangle #exile #taylor swift #the witcher imagine

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glwstic · 1 year

Text

Rec List 6: The Witcher

- Lost in Translation by notebooksandlaptops

“Are you alright?” Jaskier asks. He’s been dragged outside again during the middle of one of his sets. That’s fine. He was almost expecting it. Geralt has become a little bit predictable, and a bad mood usually means he’ll want a quick pick me up at some point.

“I will be in a moment,” Geralt growls, and he pushes Jaskier up against the wall.

And it's fine. Normal. New normal. Jaskier goes and he goes happily and willingly. But there’s something that is tugging on his mind, something that aches.

He doesn’t put his finger on it until afterwards. “You really will have to start being more patient. I do need to make a living – and you dragging me away in the middle of my songs all the time is bad for business.”

Geralt gives a chuckle, “you’re saving money on the whorehouses, are you not?”

And oh.

Geralt is using him for sex.

-///-

Or, Jaskier and Geralt start having regular sex. Jaskier thinks it doesn't mean as much to Geralt as it does to him. He's wrong.

Oneshot, 3,639 words

- Five people who don't listen to Jaskier (and one person who always does) by notebooksandlaptops

Jaskier was all too aware of the titles he’d accumulated over the years.

Jaskier: Greatest Bard on the continent, friend and companion to the White Wolf, Master of the Seven Liberal Arts, renowned Professor of the grand Oxenfurt Academy, considerate, heartfelt lover and, ultimately, when it came down to it, a right annoying prick.

“Fucking bard,” the innkeeper muttered under his breath, for once far more perturbed by Jaskier’s presence than by the Witcher who stood behind him, “do you ever stop talking?”

-///-

Or, Five people who don't listen to Jaskier (and one person who always does)

Oneshot, 4,126 words

- Loose Tongues & Blue Dresses by notebooksandlaptops

Let it never be said that Jaskier is useless. Perhaps he can't wield a sword like Geralt, perhaps he can't do magic like Yennefer, but he has his own set of skills that are equally vital when it comes to winning this war.

And Jaskier was rather enjoying this role if he did say so himself. Perhaps it was a little unpleasant to have the Kings filthy hands all over him but the silks and finery, the dresses and the makeup, finally getting to put his long hair to good use, getting to shave off that awful beard he’d been sporting?

Definitely fun.

-///-

Or, the one where Jaskier wears a dress in order to infiltrate a court

Oneshot, 10,231 words

- No Marks by didoandis

Geralt feels his stomach turn. “Tell me what happened,” he growls. Because something happened in this room. Something bad.

“You don’t know?” the mage says. “I suppose I’m not surprised. He was very keen that you didn’t find out. That was the only thing he insisted on, no marks.”

Geralt glares at him. The mage looks back, unperturbed. “Don’t scowl at me like that, beast. Everything I did was agreed to.”

Jaskier would do anything for Geralt.

Oneshot, 13,703 words

- Monsters by didoandis

The girl is young, earnest and a little scared. “Do you kill monsters if they’re human?” she asks abruptly.

Geralt nods at her to sit down, looking around him to check if anyone’s listening. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”

“There’s a woman,” the girl whispers, leaning forward over the table. “Rich. Powerful. She collects people. And when she takes a fancy to someone, they’re never seen again.”

Jaskier gets taken apart. Geralt works to put him back together.

Oneshot, 16,245 words

- A Kept Man by didoandis

Jaskier’s eyes are sliding closed. He should leave. He should know, by now, not to outstay his welcome. But Geralt’s hand has come down to rest on his forehead, a thumb stroking into his hair. And just like always, he’s too weak to resist.

Five times Jaskier didn’t have a choice about staying and one time he did.

2/2 Completed, 18,022 words

- Lessons in Losing by didoandis

“We met five years ago or thereabouts,” Geralt says through gritted teeth. “You came up to me in a tavern near Posada, decided I would be good song material, and we’ve travelled together, off and on, ever since.”

“Huh,” Jaskier says.

“You remember?” Geralt tries to keep the note of hope out of his voice, and doubts he’s been successful.

“Not in the slightest,” Jaskier says cheerfully. “But I must admit it sounds like something I’d do.”

When Jaskier forgets their life together, Geralt learns an unexpected lesson.

Oneshot, 11,270 words

- Chivalry by didoandis

“What was it this time, bard?” Geralt asks.

“Chivalry,” Jaskier tells him, loftily, and then the rope is cut and Jaskier’s feet hit the ground, jarring his body all the way up to his aching shoulders, and he passes out.

Jaskier makes an enemy. Geralt comes to his rescue. Must be a Tuesday.

Oneshot, 1,343 words

- In the Deep Dark Hills by didoandis

“You’re making a mistake,” Jaskier says. “Trust me – I’ll be watching Geralt rip out your intestines before all this is over. I’ve seen it before. It’s not pretty.” He draws himself up, shows his teeth. If this is going to go badly, he intends to be as difficult as possible about it.

The alderman glares at him. “Enough of this,” he says, commanding; there’s a heavy dull thud at the back of Jaskier’s head, and a brief burst of pain, and then blackness.

When Geralt is late returning from a hunt, Jaskier’s the one who suffers for it. Things get worse before they get better.

Oneshot, 11,656 words

- Gift by SeelieSkelliger

"So, you must be Geralt’s bard.”

There came a hollow chuckle in response. “Once upon a time, perhaps. Now, I don’t know what I am. Probably at best I’m an annoyance, more likely I’m a burden.” Jaskier was staring at the floor near his feet, so he missed the soft look Vesemir gave him before sitting at the foot of the bed.

“You brought Ciri back here safely. After you started travelling with him, Geralt finally seemed to be alive again when he would come back here for the winter. Your songs have made all our lives better. I would not call you a burden, bard. I would say your presence in our lives has been a gift.”

Written for Witcher Bows & Arrows event 2022 - Day 4 prompt: Gift This story follows on from yesterday's fic, 'Sacrifice', but you can read it as a standalone. Jaskier struggles to work out where he fits in, featuring soft Vesemir and sweet Yen.

Oneshot, 1,388 words

#the witcher #the witcher fic #the witcher fic rec #the witcher rec #the witcher fanfic #jaskier #witcher jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #yennefer x jaskier #geralt #witcher geralt #geralt of rivera #yennefer #witcher yennefer #geralt x yennefer #angst #smut #fluff

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