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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 8 months

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23 for the prompts please? Yennskier or geraskefer

🌻🌸🌺🌷

Here's some fluffy modern AU Geraskefer:

23. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

There’s a cozy scene waiting for Jaskier when he steps into his apartment. Geralt stands at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smells divine, while Roach waits patiently at his feet for a morsel to be dropped and Yennefer sits at the kitchen table, chopping herbs with swift efficiency. Jaskier takes a moment to stare soppily at his lovers while they're not looking—he knows better than to be overly sentimental while Yennefer is holding a sharp knife—before he shrugs off his coat and shoes and heads over to see what's for dinner.

“Sorry I’m late. Class ran over.” He comes up behind Geralt, giving Roach a pat before looping his arms around his witcher's waist and taking a deep breath of whatever's in the pot. “What's cookin’, good lookin’?”

Geralt leans back against him. “Endrega venom sacs.”

“Sounds deli—I'm sorry, what?"

"Endrega venom sacs,” Geralt says again.

“Yes, I heard you the first time. I still have questions.” Jaskier peers over his lover’s shoulder and finds that whatever's in the pot is disturbingly clumpy. “Why the fuck are you stewing endrega venom sacs?”

“Works better than baking them.”

"Eugh. And why does it smell so good?" Jaskier whines.

All that earns him is a shrug.

A horrible thought occurs to Jaskier. “We're not having endrega venom sacs for dinner, are we?” Early in their acquaintance, Geralt and he did have a small misunderstanding where Geralt thought it ridiculous that Jaskier wouldn’t consume roadkill raw off the side of the highway. But that was over a decade ago; surely Geralt remembers Jaskier’s delicate human constitution by now.

Yennefer snorts as Geralt turns to stare at Jaskier like he's being the ridiculous one. “Of course not. I distill the venom and sell it. They use it in facials now.”

Jaskier is never getting a facial again. “Wait, are you using our brand new pot?"

“Hm.”

“You are!” Jaskier turns to Yennefer for backup, but she's just smirking at him, because she enjoys the sight of his exasperation, the horrible witch. “Geralt, I got that pot specifically so we could have separate cookware for food and potions.”

“In his defense, he’s not making a potion,” Yennefer says.

Jaskier really doesn’t know why he loves her. “Do you want a repeat of the Black Blood poisoning incident from last year?”

“You didn’t have Black Blood poisoning,” Geralt says. “If you had had Black Blood poisoning, you’d be dead.”

“So it’s a coincidence that you made soup in the same pot where you'd just brewed a batch of Black Blood and then I spent the night sick as a dog?”

“Could have been the two-week-old takeout you ate because you convinced yourself the soup tasted weird.”

“Geralt, I could have died.”

“Hm.”

“Witchers.” Jaskier doesn’t know why he bothers. He crosses the kitchen to drape himself over the back of Yennefer’s chair, reaching for the pile on her cutting board. “And what do we have here?”

“Don’t eat it.” She brushes his hand away.

He pouts. “What, will this kill me too?”

“No, but it will make you wish it had.”

Jaskier backs away hurriedly. “Are you two trying to poison me tonight?”

Yennefer doesn’t turn towards him, but he can hear her eye roll. “We can’t be blamed for the fact that you’ll put anything in your mouth.”

Jaskier leers at the back of her head. “You don’t normally complain about what I do with my mouth.”

“I do when you're eating two-week-old Nilfgaardian food and complaining about it.”

Well, that’s just rude. Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “I’m a starving artist, my love. I need to make do with what I can afford.”

Geralt snorts. “Jask, you’re a viscount.”

“Only technically.”

“Your family has two castles.”

“Three castles if you count the villa in Toussaint,” Yennefer adds.

Jaskier hates it when they gang up on him. He really hates it when they gang up on him and they’re right. A change of subject is in order. “Well, we’re not eating venom sacs for dinner and we’re not eating scary witch herbs, so what’s for dinner?”

Geralt and Yennefer both turn to look at him with identical exasperated expressions. “It’s Wednesday,” Geralt says. “It’s your turn to handle dinner.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to protest, mentally reviews his calendar, and closes his mouth. “Ah. Right.”

Yennefer smiles at him oh-so-sweetly, like she only does when she knows she has him cornered. “So, what’s for dinner, Jaskier?”

Jaskier throws his arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “My darlings, my loves, I’ve spent all day agonizing over what meal I could possibly put in front of you that’s worthy of the two most magnificent people the Continent has ever seen.”

“Takeout again?” Geralt’s lips curl into a fond little smile.

“Takeout again,” Jaskier agrees. “But the most wonderful takeout you’ve ever feasted upon—”

“Better than your cooking,” Yennefer grumbles. “I’d rather have the endrega venom.”

“You only say that because I don’t know how to prepare the tears of the innocent.”

“Of course not. That would require boiling water, something you’ve yet to master.”

“You—”

In the end, Geralt ends up ordering the takeout while Yennefer and Jaskier debate the finer points of Jaskier’s cooking prowess. But it's okay. Jaskier will just have to handle dinner next week. Most likely.

***

Angst/fluff prompts

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

#the witcher #geraskefer #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #ghost's writing #prompt fills

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limerental · 1 year

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ficletober day 31 - geraskier with implied geraskefer

It's the night of the annual Halloween party at the Rivia-Vengerberg manor, and a host of supernatural creatures are about to arrive. Too bad Jaskier, the resident party planner and werewolf, forgot that tonight's a full moon.

And this is my last ficlet boys! No warning's for this one. It's just kooky goofy Halloween nonsense. Featuring the Witcher cast as varying creatures in a nebulously modern au.

Hopefully you've enjoyed reading my weird little ficlets this month as much as I've enjoyed pooping them out every day.

“Fuck,” Jaskier swore, cursing the Universe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

In a perfect storm of unfortunate events, the first guests attending his annual Halloween shebang hosted at the Rivia-Vengerberg manor were due to start arriving in under an hour, the party supply store down the street had had a woefully small stock of fake spider webs, leaving the house scantily underwebbed, Lambert had just called to say he would be late with the keg, the Spotify playlist he had made for the evening suddenly seemed like it was in the wrong order, and he had forgotten, in all of his planning, to account for the fact that tonight was a full moon and that he, Jaskier, was the resident werewolf.

More pressingly, he’d misplaced his favorite pair of fishnet tights.

“Geralt,” he called down into the basement, voice pitched louder than was probably necessary. “Geralt, are you still sleeping down there? It’s nearly evening. Time to wake up.”

He tiptoed down the stairs, not really wanting to invite Geralt’s ire if he had woken up on the wrong side of the coffin. The vampire had never appreciated his manor being the site of Jaskier’s annual party but tolerated it for reasons unknown.

In the basement, he crept past the hot water tank and pool table and assorted cardboard boxes to approach the stone coffin set on a raised dias at the back of the room.

The lid stood propped open, and the pale vampire was sitting up rubbing at his temples as though he already had a headache.

“Geralt, I can’t find my fishnets,” said Jaskier, and Geralt sighed. “Oh, don’t sigh."

“I didn’t sigh,” grumbled Geralt, sighing some more.

“I can’t possibly pull this Dr. Frankenfurter costume together without a good pair of fishnets. I’d just be a sad, goth drag queen rather than– Geralt, are you listening?”

“No,” he said. “What time is it?”

“Nearly six,” said Jaskier. “Pay attention, my friend. Fishnets.”

“I’d check Ciri’s room,” mumbled Geralt. He rubbed at his face a while longer, making no move to rise from the coffin. Jaskier immediately bounded up the stairs but paused at the top, dangling on the hand railing to poke his head back into the basement.

“Oh yeah,” he said, “and I forgot uh… it’s a full moon. May have slipped my mind during the party planning. So like. When I wolf out when the moon rises, don’t let me bite anybody. That would be a smidgen embarrassing, wouldn’t it? Nearly as bad as a few years ago with the ice sculpture.”

He ducked up the stairs before he could hear Geralt’s likely judgemental answer.

Truthfully, nothing could be as bad as the ice sculpture.

And, fortunately, he was a fairly tame terrifying creature of the night. Gnawing non-consensually on people’s flesh was not his thing, even when transformed into a mindless wolf creature.

From what he had been told, because no matter how hard he tried, Jaskier could not remember his monthly episodes, his wolf form was not much different than his human one, except with less vocal skills and slightly better dance moves.

Horrible taste in music though. One year, his wolf form had ruined his Spotify Wrapped by playing Nitty Gritty’s Fishing in the Dark for seven consecutive hours.

Jaskier entered Ciri’s room with trepidation. She technically no longer lived here, off on interdimensional time travel adventures doing whatever it was a teenaged girl with universe-hopping superpowers did, but it still felt wrong to intrude on her unnervingly pastel childhood bedroom. There were a great deal of unicorns and far less half-dissected dead rats than there had been when she lived here.

Geralt was right of course, and he found his fishnets flung over the back of her desk chair. He thanked his lucky stars that they were not hopelessly tangled, and he had not had to dig through a young girl’s underwear drawer. He had half-worried that Yennefer would emerge suddenly from a darkened corner just when he was wrist-deep in bras.

The witch had yet to show herself today, though he knew she was somewhere in the house because someone kept adding My Chemical Romance songs to his trial run of the Halloween playlist blasting through the bluetooth speakers in the living room.

“Yennefer!” Jaskier called, nearly face-planting down the ornate grand staircase as he tried to pull on his fishnet tights and scurry down them at the same time. “Quit looming in the shadows like some gargoyle and help me with my corset!”

The witch materialized without a sound before him, and he did trip down the last few steps into the faux cobweb-strewn foyer, sprawling on his ass on the blood-red rug. If he did not know that Yennefer dressed like Morticia Addams every day of the year, he would compliment her Halloween costume. As it was, he scoffed at her lack of creativity.

“Come on, Yennefer, you could at least mix it up a little,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he leapt to his feet. “You of all people should fully embrace the Halloween spirit. Wear some jewel tones or something. At least one color.”

“I’m an immortal witch who lives with a vampire and an idiot werewolf in a secluded, haunted manor on a hill,” she said. “Every day is Halloween for us.”

“It’s not really haunted, is it?” he asked. “I haven’t seen any ghosts.”

“Haunted by your irritating presence."

"Yennefer. Help. Corset."

“Turn around,” she said and began to lace and tighten his corset with sharper tugs than strictly necessarily. “Isn’t it a full moon?”

“Yes, yes, I forgot the moon phase. No need for everyone to bitch at me about it.”

“I’m certainly not bitching,” she said. “Wolf man you talks far less. I could do without the leg-humping though.”

Jaskier made an apologetic gesture.

"Don't lie. You love the leg-humping."

Yennefer scoffed.

When he got drunk enough, he was prone to humping Yennefer’s legs even in man form.

Ciri was the first of the guests to arrive, spiling through a shimmering portal into the middle of the living room. She was dressed as the Thirteenth Doctor, and a unicorn stepped through the portal behind her, wearing a Dalek eyestalk covering the slender horn on its forehead.

Jaskier considered reminding her that this household had had a firm “no horses allowed inside” rule since the infamous Roach in the attic incident, but he wasn’t actually certain if unicorns counted as horses or were just vaguely horse-shaped. Ciri glared at him like he had brought it up anyhow. It was probably rude to accuse a sentient being of being a horse when they weren’t, and Jaskier was nothing if not a considerate and gracious host.

Living with several people who could either read his mind or knew him so well that they didn’t have to was just inconvenient.

Not long later, Eskel arrived dressed as a lumberjack with enough casserole dishes of assorted food to feed dozens of people, holes cut in the lumpy beanie on his head to accommodate his curved succubi horns, and Lambert showed up only a little late with the keg, wearing a leather jacket and cuffed jeans, grinning as impishly as expected, given his nature. His sharp, little teeth glinted, and his hair was slicked with grease around the pointed nubs of his horns.

“No poodle skirt?” Jaskier called, grateful for the arrival of the beer but unable to avoid giving his least favorite of Geralt’s weird brothers at least some shit.

Lambert flipped him off. His forked tail casually snagged a pigs in the blanket from one of the platters Eskel was arranging.

“I’ll be the one laughing tonight, Wolf Boy,” he said. “How’s that moon feelin’?”

“I have another hour at least,” said Jaskier. “It’s barely dark out. Speaking of, where the hell is Geralt? He’s not going to hide away in that creepy little crypt of his all evening. He’s supposed to stop me from using anyone as a chew toy.”

“What are you supposed to be anyway? A sad, goth drag queen?”

Jaskier gasped in scandalized affront, just as another My Chemical Romance song began to play from the speakers, and he hurried off to fix his playlist once again.

Triss Merigold showed up bearing several bottles of wine in a blush-pink Playboy bunny costume that clashed horribly with her red hair, and his flagrant ogling of her exposed bosom was cut short when the very scary Philippa Eilhart stepped up to press a hand to her lower back. She was wearing tufted wolf ears and sharp fangs, plus a bright red cape, which he personally felt was a bit derivative of yours truly but was not about to open his mouth to comment and risk being turned to ash.

The rest of the Coven of Sorceresses, or whatever they called themselves, appeared one after another. There were several among them dressed in sexy witch costumes, which seemed nearly as uncreative as Yennefer, who technically had refused to participate.

Fringilla Vigo had apparently missed the sexy part of the memo sent by the group and was dressed in full stereotypical wizard regalia, complete with moon and stars cape, pointy hat, and long faux beard. She got tipsy on Merigold’s wine very quickly and kept accidentally smacking people with her oversized wizard staff, giggling girlishly.

“Geralt?” Jaskier called into the dark basement. “The party’s in full swing, you know. I could transform into a significantly hairier fanged beast at any moment. Geralt, are you busy moping? Is this because the unicorn is allowed in the house and Roach isn’t?”

“I’m not moping,” said Geralt, decidedly moping in his coffin. “I’m meditating.”

“Your brothers brought beer. And those tiny biscuit-swaddled baby hot dogs you love so much,” said Jaskier. “Regis just showed up. He’s dressed as Dracula again, which… come on, does no one have even a small shred of creative integrity anymore? I know he’s a different flavor of vampire than you, what with the whole ‘doesn’t burn in the sunlight and isn’t allergic to garlic’ thing, but it isn’t that a bit of an offensive caricature? He’s talking with a really bad Transylvanian accent. That should be my gig tonight!”

Geralt’s inability to eat garlic bread was really, horribly, desperately sad to Jaskier, so he brought it up in conversation as often as possible, just so that Geralt knew he hadn’t forgotten that Jaskier was incredibly supportive of his depressing garlic-related plight.

“Go away, Jaskier,” said Geralt. Rather than go away, Jaskier took a running jump and vaulted himself into the coffin with his friend, only poking him a little in the shins with his tall, heeled boots.

“Are you having a case of the Mondays?” he asked. “Are you in blood withdrawal? Is it really the unicorn? I can ask it to leave but it does have a four foot sword on its forehead, so if it stabs me right to death I–”

“It’s not Ihuarraquax,” said Geralt. “Or blood withdrawal. Or… it’s not even Monday, Jaskier.”

“As previously-stated, I rarely have any clue what day of the week or month it is, Geralt.”

“I’m just not feeling up to partying tonight.”

Jaskier snapped his fingers.

“Case of the Mondays, it is.”

Geralt stared at him with a miserable expression.

It was not much different than his usual look, but after years of strange, supernatural friendship, Jaskier considered himself a connoisseur of Geralt’s varying moods and quirks. Most werewolves and vampires did not prefer to spend any length of time in each other’s presence, but even Jaskier’s wolf form was unusually attached to Geralt. It was often him he ended up using as a chew toy, after all.

“You mind if I stay down here for my shift?” Jaskier asked.

"You'll miss your party," said Geralt, his voice almost a whisper.

"Naw," he said. "I'm already going to miss it. Wolf me would probably spend the whole night line dancing again or something."

For a while, they just sat facing each other in the coffin, staring, and Jaskier dropped his chin to rest on his folded knees. He knew he must look as moon-eyed and dopey as usual while getting a good look at Geralt, but that was hardly his fault.

They called it puppy love for a reason.

Without consciously doing so, Jaskier's breathing slowed to match Geralt's even breaths, and he had the fleeting thought that maybe the vampire was faking a bummed out mood to draw him down here, where a relaxed, meditative state would ease the inevitably painful trauma of his transformation.

It didn't suck sometimes. Living with a house full of creatures who knew him so well.

Through the narrow slats of the basement windows, the moon rose bright and full in a crisp, black sky.

Over the thumping bass of a colorful gathering of drunken misfit supernatural creatures, a wolf began to howl.

#my fic #the witcher #the end!!!!!#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #this is just so silly babes

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echo-bleu · 2 years

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Writing thoughts - uh September apparently

I haven’t rambled about my writing in ages here. I don’t remember when I stopped doing the monthly update, probably when I had nothing interesting to say.

It sure has been a weird year productivity-wise (and otherwise too). I feel like I’ve been in a fog since... I can’t even remember when at this point. I actually didn’t write or draw anything for a couple months this summer, I just didn’t have any creativity left in me I guess, and no real hyperfixation to keep me doing. I wanted to write some original projects, but that didn’t happen.

Then I fell into a new fandom (The Witcher) and I’m currently milking that hyperfixation for all it’s worth because it’s allowed me to go back to writing and drawing. I really appreciate being in a fandom where there’s a lot of engagement and most of it isn’t minors, it’s been a while.

As always I’m mostly just sorting out my own thoughts here, but if you want to know what’s coming up in terms of fics, this is the part you want to read: WIP headcount.

- Holding Angels (Shadowhunters): technically it’s not a WIP because it’s finished, but I’ll start posting it really soon. It has 10 chapter, it’s heavy Alec angst with politics, Nephilim religion, angels, BAMF Magnus & Izzy.

- Singer Street (original): ...I opened the file today. For the first time in two months. I need to readjust my mind to thinking about something else than the new hyperfixation, but I’ll get there.

- Eyes on the Horizon (original, sort of): I reread all of it a while ago and decided I needed to finish the first draft before reworking the plot completely, but I’m not sure that’s the best course of action anymore. I need to figure out what story I’m trying to tell exactly.

- left you behind just standing there (Witcher): currently 11k and growing. It’s a season 2 canon divergence where an adult Ciri goes seeking Jaskier, who disappeared in Oxenfurt six years ago. She finds him running an inn with a powerless Yennefer, raising a little girl and still haunted by the torture he went through at the hands of Rience.

- untitled mute!Jaskier AU (Witcher): 13k and growing. Essentially follows the show, but Jaskier never got his voice back after the djinn.

- untitled sequel to remember me I sing (Witcher): I’m trying to keep it to a decent length (aka under 5k) but we’ll see. Mostly Jaskier whump with platonic Geraskefer.

I finally posted the epilogue to our hands clasped so tight (RNM). I’m honestly a bit disappointed by the reception but hey, I’m not even in the fandom anymore, I don’t know why I’m complaining. Anyway it was a story that meant a lot of me for a show that really doesn’t anymore, and I’m really glad it’s complete.

I’m at the stage of the hyperfixation where I’m getting 50 ideas per day, which isn’t conductive to doing anything else (including work) but at least I’m having fun. I’d missed that.

#echo's writing thoughts #the witcher #fanfiction #holding angels #eyes on the horizon #singer street #mute jaskier au #left you behind just standing there

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tellhound · 2 years

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I already have so many different wip's. But I think I might have to turn til death do us part into a series. Cause I just have so many ideas on how I could continue it and give yennskier a real happy ending (or a tragic one, haven't fully decided yet).

But I just really wanna finish the geraskefer one and the one that is technically already finished before I start writing anything else.

#Personal #Fic writing didn't use to be this hard for me

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bambirex · 6 months

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The World Is Yours, If You Seek The Good: Chapter 14

Pairings: Geraskefer, Yennskier, Geraskier, Yenralt

Characters: Jaskier, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt of Rivia, Ciri of Cintra, Lambert

Additional tags: implied/referenced abuse, forced pregnancy, mpreg, creature fic, fae Jaskier, creature Jaskier, creature Yennefer, captivity, enemies to friends to lovers, polyamory, found family, hurt/comfort, it starts out angsty but it will get better, completely made up lore, fertility issues, completely made up skills and powers, angst, angst with a happy ending, whump, Jaskier whump, Yennefer whump, Geralt whump, Ciri whump, blood, nightmares, injury, wound care, past rape/non-con, trauma, sexually inexperienced Yennefer, sexually inexperienced Jaskier, threesome- f/m/m, mild sexual content

Rating: mature

Chapters: 14/20

Full word count: 43,449 words

Chapter word count: 3,261 words

Summary: Used and abused by humans, Jaskier and Yennefer believe they are alone and with no reason to trust anybody. That is, until they meet each other - and then, a couple of other strange misfits.

Chapter summary: Geralt, Jaskier and Yennefer get to spend some time together, while something happens to Ciri.

Author's notes: WARNINGS for mentioned past non-con!!!! It's not very explicit, but be careful, just in case! There's also sexual content in this, which also isn't as explicit as my usual stuff, but you know, treading lightly is always the best option!

Read on Ao3

Ciri nagged Geralt constantly to let her go fishing with Lambert to the nearby lake. Geralt, of course, was a little apprehensive, but Ciri reminded him that it was still close to the hut, and with her newly discovered powers - over which she gained more and more control thanks to Yennefer's teaching - she had a better chance at defending herself. Besides, she had Lambert by her side, who despite being a loveable weirdo, was very much still a strong, skilled witcher.

"So, you have nothing to worry about," Ciri said in the company of a smile. "We'd only be away for a few hours."

"Why are you so insistent on fishing, of all things?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "I think you said it sounded like the most boring thing in the whole world."

Ciri bit her lip to stifle a smile. Technically, she still thought exactly that, but she needed a good reason to leave the hut for a few hours, so Geralt, Yennefer and Jaskier could be alone a little bit.

Ciri was well aware of the intense emotions between the three of them, but for some reason, neither of them seemed to dare make the first move towards an actual relationship, despite the fact that was clearly what they all wanted. Well, Yennefer and Jaskier may have started due to that kiss they shared, but Ciri wanted to give them the final push they needed to admit their feelings for each other.

The best way to do that, she believed, was that if she gave them some time alone.

"I changed my mind," Ciri said with a shrug. "It'll be fun with Lambert."

"Everything is fun with me," Lambert chimed in with a chuckle. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Geralt. We'll be literally only a couple meters from here. You'll even see our backs if you look out the window. But I hope you won't do that."

Geralt made a confused noise at the back of his throat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there will be other things you should be looking at."

Ciri quickly kicked Lambert's shin under the table to make him shut up. She confided in him about her plan, and she didn't want to him accidentally spill the truth. Lambert sent her a little wink.

"Alright, whatever," Geralt gave in with a sigh. "But only a few hours. And don't stray too far."

Ciri squealed and threw herself into Geralt's arms. Geralt let out a soft huff before he enveloped her in a hug. Ciri and Lambert grinned at each other over Geralt's shoulder.

After losing her family back at Cintra, Geralt came to bring the lost love back to Ciri. And now, with Jaskier and Yennefer, Ciri felt like her family could be complete again. She couldn't wait for that to become official.

"She'll be okay, Geralt," Jaskier told him softly as he watched Geralt pace up and down in the living room. "She's with Lambert."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about."

"You're such a worrywart," Yennefer laughed. "It's quite endearing."

"Is it?" Geralt asked, quirking an amused eyebrow at her. It made Yennefer grin.

It was definitely endearing, possibly the most endearing thing Yennefer has seen. Something about Geralt being so soft under that hard exterior, something about him being a good and caring father to Ciri made Yennefer's heart melt.

"You're adorable," Jaskier cooed from his seat. His eyes glinted with mischief as Geralt sent him a look. "What? It's time you got used to compliments."

A soft smile spread across the witcher's face at that. There was a faint pink tint coloring his cheeks as he leant against the closet behind him.

"I think I would get used to them," Geralt said, "if I got even more."

Yennefer hummed. Geralt became more and more openly affectionate, as well as letting himself ask for it more often. It was very lovely to experience.

Jaskier took the challenge with an eager grin.

"Let's see: you're insanely hot. I've never seen such beautifully sculpted muscles on anyone before. I'm drooling."

"Very good," Geralt chuckled. Yennefer let out a soft laugh of her own upon seeing the amusement in Geralt’s eyes.

"Your eyes are gorgeous, intense. I don't wanna stop looking into them. Your jawline was crafted by the gods."

"Keep going."

"You have the kindest heart," Jaskier continued, the teasing tone of his voice giving place to genuine awe. "You're caring, protective."

"Trustworthy," Yennefer added softly. "Keeping your word. Loyal. Honest."

"I like what I'm hearing," Geralt admitted. He moved closer to them, until he stood right in front of them. There, he seemed to lose his confidence for a fleeting second, shifting his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly.

"It's all true," Jaskier breathed. He looked up at Geralt with big, bright eyes, his lips parting softly as he took in a deeper breath, as if he was preparing himself to say something important.

"We love you, Geralt," was what he eventually said, his lashes fluttering as he watched Geralt's shocked face. "Not just as a friend, or a confidante. We're in love with you."

"We are," Yennefer admitted, feeling her cheeks heat up. She reached over and grabbed Jaskier's hand, squeezing it. The synella scooted closer to her, pressing his warmth against Yennefer. Yennefer looked up at Geralt curiously.

The tension between the three of them has been building steadily, but no real steps have been made since that one kiss between her and Jaskier. Which was a big thing, clearly, but Yennefer and Jaskier both knew their relationship needed one more missing piece - Geralt.

For a few moments, Geralt just stared at them, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted. Yennefer felt her heart pick up as she waited for him to reply.

Geralt moved closer again, until he knelt on the floor in front of Jaskier. He lifted his hands uncertainly, blinking up at the fae.

"Yes," Jaskier told him gently, already knowing what Geralt wanted to ask. Geralt made a soft sound as he ran his hands up Jaskier's thighs, until they settled on his hips. He rubbed at the skin there with his thumbs gently before he leant up and pressed his lips against Jaskier's.

They made a beautiful picture together, Yennefer thought as she watched them, warmth blossoming inside her chest. Geralt's big, calloused hands caressed Jaskier's delicate sides so gently as he kissed him. Jaskier's own hand was tangled in Geralt’s unruly white hair, his long fingers carding through his locks. Geralt accidentally bumped into Jaskier's belly, and he reached between them to caress it in apology. Yennefer felt her lips curl into a wide smile.

Jaskier's cheeks were flushed a beautiful pink when they parted, and Geralt's lips were shiny and slightly swollen from their kiss. Yennefer's heart jumped when Geralt looked at her.

She reached out and dragged Geralt towards herself until she could taste his lips. A sigh ripped from her chest as she melted into his arms that circled around her.

Yennefer cupped his cheeks, letting her fingers map out the muscles in his jaw, the stubble on his skin. She was still holding his face when their lips finally broke apart so they could breathe.

Yennefer's breath hitched in her throat when Jaskier leant in and kissed her neck, his lips gentle but searing hot against her skin. Yennefer moved to cup his jaw so she could kiss him on the mouth, swallowing his soft gasp.

"Maybe we should find a more comfortable place to continue this," Geralt drawled. He had one hand on Yennefer's knee, the other on Jaskier's stomach. "Maybe the bedroom."

Yennefer's heart skipped a beat when she realized what that meant. She swallowed thickly, trying not to show her panic too much - she clearly failed at it, judging by the looks of concern Jaskier and Geralt sent her.

"Are you alright?" Jaskier asked her softly. He tucked a piece of hair behind Yennefer's ear. "Did we do something wrong?"

"No," Yennefer was quick to say. She ducked her head down, her face heating up in shame. "It's just that I've never..."

With her living her whole life in captivity, she never got the chance to be intimate with anyone. She was alone most of the time, and luckily, the humans were too scared of her to try and do anything to her against her will. Yennefer was aware of what having sex with someone entailed, but she never experienced it herself. And while she wanted nothing more than to do it with Geralt and Jaskier, she was worried her lack of experience and skill in the matter would make her appear ridiculous.

"Hey," Geralt spoke softly, "that's alright. We don't have to."

"I want to," Yennefer clarified, "I just don't know how to do it."

"We can show you. Lead you. Whatever you need. Right, Jaskier?"

"Well," Jaskier's voice sounded somewhat uncertain. Yennefer looked up and saw him worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

"I mean... I've done it, just... Not like this. I mean... only with Master, and he was...not very gentle. It wasn’t…very enjoyable…"

He trailed off. Yennefer felt her chest tighten with anger. The idea that Jaskier was used like that, by that disgusting bastard filled her with rage.

"Did he do it to you even when I was there?"

"Sometimes. Not in front of you, though."

"Possibly because I would have killed him if I saw it happen," Yennefer growled. She clenched her fists against her lap. Geralt's eyes were also murderous.

"I'll hunt him down," he snarled. Jaskier hummed softly.

"Let's not talk about this anymore," he said quietly. "I only mentioned this so Yennefer would know she's not the only one who isn't well-versed in this."

Yennefer reached over and cupped his cheek, soothingly rubbing her thumb over his skin.

"Thank you for telling us."

"We really don't have to do anything," Geralt promised, giving each of them a small, but earnest smile. "It's enough if we're just together like this."

"We trust you," Jaskier replied. He leant forward and kissed Geralt's forehead. "We always will."

"Just be patient with us, okay?" Yennefer asked with a nervous little chuckle. Geralt nodded and kissed the tip of her nose gently, making her go cross-eyed for a second.

Geralt helped Jaskier up from the seat before he took Yennefer's hand as well. Yennefer's heart pounded heavily in her chest as she followed him, holding onto their hands tightly.

Her anxiety melted once they reached Geralt's bedroom. She wrapped her arms around Jaskier's neck and pulled him down into a kiss. His lips were sweet, and his hands were gentle as he held Yennefer's waist. Geralt wrapped his own arms around them from behind Jaskier, as he kissed all over the fae's neck. Jaskier trembled and made a soft gasping sound against Yennefer's lips.

"Can I take off your clothes?" Geralt drawled into Jaskier's ear. Jaskier nodded frantically, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

Yennefer took a step back to admire the sight of Geralt gently unlacing Jaskier's blouse. Her breath hitched as she looked at Jaskier's bare body for the first time. Like Jaskier mentioned before, his body indeed did not look like what Yennefer expected - she has seen half-naked farmers before, but Jaskier's chest resembled her own a lot more, only covered with thick dark hair. His rounded stomach heaved with his excited breathing as Geralt continued kissing his neck and shoulders, his hands exploring his body gently, never taking anything without asking first. It made Yennefer's heart flutter.

They helped Jaskier lie down on the bed on his back, as doing it on his own was too much of a strain for the heavily pregnant synella. Jaskier bit his lip as Geralt removed his loose pants. Yennefer tried not to ogle him too much, but he looked so utterly perfect.

"Beautiful," she breathed. Jaskier blushed, his lips curling into a smile.

"You can take mine off," Yennefer told Geralt who sent her a questioning look. Geralt smiled and kissed her, his hands just as gentle on her body as they were on Jaskier's. Yennefer felt her muscles momentarily tense once she was fully naked, but she loosened up again when he felt how gentle, how patient Geralt was with her. Yennefer pulled at his clothes, wanting to see more of his body. Geralt aided her, and soon he was bare, his chiseled, hard body on display. Yennefer gently ran her fingers over his scars.

"I wanna touch you," Yennefer told Jaskier as she settled on the bed. "I don't know how."

"Gently?" Jaskier asked, uncharacteristically hesitant. He spread his legs further apart, revealing more of himself to Yennefer. Yennefer felt a gentle, supportive hand on her back as she settled between Jaskier's legs.

"Which one...?" She asked uncertainly, her hands hovering above Jaskier's appendages. One of them was just like her own, but she had no idea what to do with it, let alone with the other one.

"Whatever you pick."

"This is about your choice," Yennefer told him. "I want you to have that control that you were never allowed to have... besides, I need to be told what to do."

"Okay," Jaskier concluded softly. He gently took Yennefer's hand and led it between his legs, to the place that seemed a bit more familiar.

Geralt gently instructed the both of them, his arms holding Yennefer from behind, praising her as she carefully explored Jaskier's body. Her insecurities soon melted as she saw him writhe with pleasure underneath her, his long lashes fluttering in bliss.

It was not like Yennefer imagined: no sweating, no panting, not even a lot of pain. Geralt was so gentle, as if he wasn't even a hard mountain of a man: he was so careful, always checking in with the both of them, never doing anything they didn't like. He allowed them to have the control they were previously deprived of, and took it back when they needed him to lead. He showed Yennefer all the ways one could touch another's body for the sake of pleasure, and he showed Jaskier what it was like to do it with feeling.

It was an experience Yennefer would never forget - not while they lay in each other's arms afterwards, and not even centuries later.

"Are you both okay?" Geralt asked from where he was resting against Jaskier's shoulders, his nose buried in the crook of his neck. Jaskier hummed softly, burrowing into his lovers' warmth.

"I feel fantastic," Jaskier sighed happily. "Can we do it again?"

Yennefer laughed. "Bit insatiable, huh?"

"Can you blame me? Geralt is a stud. And you're also wonderful, Yen."

Yennefer grinned. She placed a hand over the swell of Jaskier's belly. She smiled when she felt the baby shift under her palm.

"I hope we didn't wake them up."

"That would've been awfully rude of us," Geralt chuckled. He laced his fingers together with Yennefer's over Jaskier's stomach. "Are you feeling alright, as well?"

"More than alright," Yennefer replied with a smile.

To think that just a couple months back, she had no one, and now she had a whole family for herself. How angry and sad and hurt she used to be, and how happy she was now. How it felt like things would never be alright, that her wounds would never heal. And now... now it finally seemed like life had many beautiful things to offer.

In the arms of her two lovers, with a baby kicking under her palm, and with the knowledge their child was also not far away, having fun with her weird uncle, Yennefer felt like bursting with happiness.

"Take it easy, girl. Good."

Ciri made a pitiful sound, something between a whimper and a groan. She sagged heavily against Lambert's side. The only reason she didn't collapse was because Lambert held her up.

Lambert would never admit it to anyone, but he was scared shitless when Ciri suddenly stilled and dropped the fishing rod, her eyes staring vacantly ahead. So vacantly, in fact, that her entire eyes turned white, matching the paleness of her cheeks. She didn't react as Lambert repeatedly called out her name and shook her by the shoulders, trying to drag her back to reality. It was like trying to wake up a corpse.

After a couple of terrifying moments where Lambert thought Ciri has left her own body, she woke up, her eyes slowly clearing before a few droplets of blood ran down her cheeks. She trembled and gasped for breath as she stumbled on her feet. She muttered something about "him", but Lambert couldn't make out the words. He needed to get her home quickly.

"Geralt?" He yelled as he walked through the door with Ciri under his arm. "Where are you? Yennefer? Jaskier?"

He couldn't find them in the kitchen or in the living room. He made Ciri sit on a chair before he poured her a glass of water. He hoped she wouldn't faint while he searched the house for his brother and his company.

"Geralt!" Lambert howled as he tore up the bedroom door. "Are you in here, you... oh."

Lambert blinked in surprise when he spotted Geralt, Jaskier and Yennefer cuddled up to one another on the bed. None of them had clothes on. Shit. Right. He forgot why they left them alone in the first place.

Geralt quickly covered them with a blanket. He sent his brother a murderous look.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Sorry for interrupting your liaison," Lambert huffed, "something happened with Ciri."

Geralt and Yennefer immediately jumped out of the bed while Jaskier made a miserable effort to try and sit up. Lambert quickly turned around to make sure he didn't see anything more than he already shouldn't have.

Luckily Geralt and Yennefer put some clothes on before they rushed to Ciri in the kitchen. They both dropped to their knees in front of her. Geralt cradled her against his chest while Yennefer caressed her hair, shushing her gently.

"What's wrong?" Geralt asked as he held her against his chest. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Ciri whispered. She swallowed thickly. "I saw him again."

"The man from your dream?" Yennefer asked, her face going pale. "What did you see?"

"He's coming for us," Ciri whispered. She let out a shaky breath. "For me, specifically."

Geralt turned around to face Lambert, who stood in the doorway, now with Jaskier by his side. The fae looked horrified upon hearing what Ciri said.

"We need to get to the bottom of this," Geralt said. His voice was full of concern. "We still have our eyes and ears in the woods, right?"

"Right," Lambert replied. "Do you want me to ask around?"

"We need to figure out who's looking for Ciri."

"So, you agree that they're visions? That someone out there is truly coming for her, and that’s what she’s seeing?" Yennefer asked, her voice quiet. Geralt let out a sigh as he nodded. There was clearly no point in pretending otherwise: if Ciri was in immediate danger, they needed to be honest with each other.

"What are we gonna do now?" Jaskier asked, wrapping his arms around his stomach protectively. Lambert reached out to squeeze his shoulder, trying to soothe him.

"One thing for sure," Geralt said, looking over each of them, his eyes full of determination, "we're gonna keep each other safe, no matter what."

#geraskefer #geraskier #yennskier #yenralt #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #ciri #the world is yours if you seek the good

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jaskierisbi · 2 years

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okay but geraskefer love and monsters au where jaskier is dylan o’brien’s character and geralt and yen are the couple that saves his life and teach him how to survive in a newly monster infested world

jaskier is in college at oxenfurt when the whole monster debacle goes down. he sees all his friends die in front of him and gets separated from his sweetheart contessa ‘tessa’ stael

he manages to land in a bunker with a bunch of other people but is kind of a weenie and has a bit of a freezing problem so he’s never allowed on excursions. but hey, he can cook, play music and draw, so he’s still useful!

over time he keeps using the radio to look for tessa and finds her X amount of years later. he’s tired of feeling useless so he decides to cross a large portion of the continent to be with her again

he finds a dog (named roach???), and nearly dies SEVERAL times. he cut it really close once and only lived because a hot couple and their child (???) saved him

the adonis-like man? amazing with swords, daggers, basically any weapon. the striking purple-eyed woman? brilliant tactician and seems a little too lucky and coincidences happen a little too much when she’s around

the girl is apparently not their daughter, but a girl the man- geralt- took under his wing when her family was killed by monsters

anyways this is a long winded way of me saying jaskier becomes more competent through travelling with this hardcore survivalist family and falls deeply in love with geralt and yennefer when he’s supposed to be going to be with tessa

#okay I know I have few followers on this sideblog but PLEASE I NEED THIS TO BE A THING ITS SO GOOD #tessa ends up having moved on since they split up (as per canon)#valdo marx is that shitty australian guy #geralt yen and ciri are travelling towards kaer morhen and by the end of their time travelling together they want jaskier to come with them #but jaskier HAS to see it through and go to tessa and ciri gets upset and cries and the ground shakes a bit and it’s all angsty #the whole shebang happens wherever tessa is set up. after the valdo situation #they both agree they’ve moved on and are better off as friends and leave it amicably. jaskier sets off on a journey to follow his Real Famil #and makes his way to kaer morhen (they lowkey emotionally gave him a map how to get there ‘just in case’ smh they were in LOVE with him)#anyways I know I might *technically* be able to write this because most of it is already ‘written’ kinda by movie dialogue and canon etc #but I haven’t updated chapter 3 of what it is to burn and I feel bad lmfao #i just have a MIGHTY need for this au #geraskefer #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #mine #the witcher #love and monsters #the witcher au #someone please talk to me about this I’m on a 8hr train ride back to school and have 2hrs left and am driving myself INSANE with this

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vagrantblvrd · 2 years

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The one Geraskifer fic where everyone’s at Kaer Morhen for the winter (and possibly foreseeable future because reasons) where Ciri wheedles/insists Jaskier trains with her.

Cue training montage with Ciri and Jaskier training - Ciri being >:( because she wants to be a better fighter and so on and it’s srs bzns. Jaskier a bit less >:( and more ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about things.

Like, yes, it is indeed serious business and he fully intends to learn so he won’t be a liability and all? But he also doesn’t want Ciri obsessing and such, so he plays things up a bit, does what he can and so on.

Which means he ends up getting knocked on his ass more times than strictly necessary, but he swears he sees a hint of a smile on Ciri’s face a time or two in the process, so it’s well worth it.

(Besides, he really is learning, and it’s nice whenever he gets a “not bad” or “I’ve seen worse” from one of the others when he gets something right, so there’s that too.)

During one of the training sessions Yennefer takes a seat near the training yards, for a bit of fresh air or whatever reason, and watches thing.

(Feels this bit of pride in Ciri improving more and more, and this little amused smile she doesn’t bother to hide when Jaskier gets knocked on his ass again - this time by Ciri who’s carefully not laughing at him, because it’d be rude and all. Really.)

At some point Geralt joined her, just in from a hunting expedition or whatever, but he’s skulking about in a shadowy alcove or whatever.

There’s a break in training for Jaskier who trudges over to Yennefer and pulls up a patch of ground by her feet, not quite touching her.

All sweaty and gross and the kind of tired that comes with a good workout and general feeling of accomplishment, which is lovely and all, but still sweaty and gross.

Which Yennefer comments on because this is what the two of them do, isn’t it? Snark and banter and tease, and Jaskier sighs, glances at her with an obnoxiously over the top look full of heartache and longing and such.

“They’re teaching me to kill,” he says softly enough she has to lean to hear him. She knows better, but he’s frustrating like that, makes her do things like this. “But who will teach me to love?”

Which is how Jaskier gets knocked on his ass one last time that day, Jaskier grinning up at her and laughing while she tries to hold the >:(((((((((((((( on her face and someone - “your bard is a nuisance, Geralt!” - chuckles from the shadows, and anyway, yes.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#witcher nonsense #witcher #geraskefer #geralt/jaskier/yennefer #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #(i should be more sorry about this #and yet i am not #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#)

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lynn-reads-and-writes · 4 years

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It’s the way Geralt is Jaskier’s number 1 subscriber on onlyfans and Jaskier just has no clue.

#lynn speaks #sugar baby!jaskier au #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geraskier #technically #geraskefer #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geralt #dandelion #dandelion x geralt #geralt x jaskier #sugar baby jaskier

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anya-chalotra · 2 years

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hello my love, idk if you've had one of these before but: this is a content creator appreciation! list five favorite sets you've ever made and send this ask to five other content creators 🧡 (bc you need to appreciate your stunning works of art and admit you are a photoshop wizard ok byeeee)

@ughmerlin asked: hi ava!! this is a content creator appreciation! list five favorite sets you've ever made and send this ask to five other content creators 🧡

@time-turner asked: hi ava!! this is a content creator appreciation! list five favorite sets you've ever made and send this ask to five other content creators 🧡

@lamberts asked: hi ava!! this is a content creator appreciation! list five favorite sets you've ever made and send this ask to five other content creators 🧡

@mayaslopez asked: helloooo 🌻 content creator appreciation!! list five favourite sets you've made and send this ask to five other content creators! (no pressure tho!)

Fellas. Pals. Beloveds. I am... *squints and does double take* uh, two months late to the party. In my defense, which is an admittedly shoddy defense, it is taking about eight years to catch up on the couple weeks’ worth of messages I’ve been behind on. I am but a snail or a turtle, though one that is extremely flattered, and as such I did not want to leave these to collect more dust.

Answering all of these in one go because I do not think I can come up with 25 whole ass sets, being as nit-picky (as well as overtly critical, not to mention indecisive, not to mention forgetful, et cetera, et cetera) as I am. However! In an effort to practice the self-love a certain sorceress here is preaching, I’m forcing myself to compromise by picking some honorable mentions.

1. The Witcher Songs: I don’t know if anyone besides me will look at something they’ve made and go, “Huh, I will never top that.” But I’ve thought it about a few creations over the years, and as it stands, this set’s been the ‘unbeatable’ one for a year and a half. I’ve toyed a lot with the idea of recreating it, and I think I finally will when the new season drops, but it’s been a special set to me since it was one of those ‘milestone’ ones where I started branching out and seeing what methods in graphic-making I could apply to gifs.

2. This is kind of piggy-backing off #1 since that’s technically a poster set as well, but The Witcher Posters. Drove me insane, the whole lot of them. I fluctuated between “insanely frustrated” and “insanely proud” so often that by the time I finished any of them I was just insanely glad to have them off my hands.

3. Certified OT3 enthusiast that I am, I have made many a set for the chaotic trio, but I think I’m particularly proud of this times of day set and this eclipse set. For all the mixed feelings I tend to have about my own work, I do take pride in coming up with potentially-unique ideas and bringing them to life.

4. The Witcher ⨯ Twelfth Night by Shakespeare: There is legitimately an entire (albeit unfinished) set in my drafts of The Witcher and Shakespeare lines, but I had wanted to do something with this particular quote for literal ages because it felt like it fit Ciri, Yen and Geralt so well, and I’m really proud of how it turned out?

5. Little Red and the White Wolf: Another idea I didn’t get around to for a long time, but nevertheless a super fun concept to play around with. I remember it taking a while to get the reds just so since Ciri’s outfit is a whole wham-bam of blue-green, but I think I did a decent enough job in the color-shifting department.

Honorable mentions would probably go to this Yennefer set, this Geralt and Ciri set, and this recent Geraskefer set. Maybe. Or maybe I’d just give honorable mentions to all the meme and shitpost sets I’ve made, like this malewife/girlboss/manwhore set or this BDSM set.

#i never know whether to go with more recent sets or older ones or go for a general approach #so then my brain completely blanks on every set ever #yenvengerberg #ask ava: an organizational tag and not an advice column (unless it needs to be)

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suzukiblu · 2 years

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current projects’ current progress:

Encanto daemons (1200/????)

Bruno + the niblings (2300/1000)

Isabela + Camilo (50/????)

de-aged Witcher (2/?)

Geraskier kiss (0/1000)

undecided headcanons x 2 (0/10)

“read the inscription” coda (1700/2000)

more “you make a really good girl” (400/5000)

even more “you make a really good girl” (0/10000)

Jedi Finn AU (10700/10000)

ODYDLB den mother Tony (1300/10000)

Geraskefer soulmates (7100/????)

Viktor and the dragon (400/????)

omega!Darcy (200/2000)

clay kids (17/?)

original serial (9/?)

Tiny bits of progress, tiny bits. The writing brain hasn't really kicked in tonight but I did get writing done this MORNING and also got groceries and took out the trash and unwound for a while, so ehhh, it's not that big a deal. Gonna try and get a bit more done anyway but I gotta be better about being like "yeah okay I did do stuff today", especially when it's technically a day off, which today absolutely was.

I just work SO MUCH lately that I feel like I always need to maximize what I get done on my days off, rare beasts that those are. So, uh . . . I don't really have days off at all, I guess, haha. So THAT kinda sucks but it's that or never write again sooooo . . .

Look, we gotta do what we gotta do, basically.

#rintalk #a/b/o

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reveniemus · 2 years

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this noise i cannot shake

for @thewitcherbog team bingo fills: con non con / mind control. also on ao3!

established relationship, au - modern with magic, geraskefer, ~3k, explicit.

warnings: dead dove: do not eat; consensual non-con, improper use of axii, choking, penetrative sex, oral sex, objectification.

Jaskier knows he's pretty, is well aware of the way his body looks when he moves. So it's hardly a surprise that he can feel eyes on him as he joins the DJ on the stage, his ass shaking in his too tight jeans as the beat drops. Eventually, the song ends and Jaskier decides it's time for a drink. He flirts with the bartender, his loose tee dipping low to let the bartender get a peek of his chest. Sometimes people don't vibe with his body hair, but from the way the bartender's eyes dip low every time Jaskier nearly bends over the counter tells the musician that isn't a problem here. He takes the free drink and phone number and walks back out to the dance floor, downing his drink in one go just as a body presses against his back. Jaskier leans his entire body into the broad chest, head tilted back to expose the long line of his neck.

"Want to get out of here?" the man growls into his ear and Jaskier whimpers, opening his mouth to answer only to find his entire body frozen.

"Sorry, this one's called for," a voice says, the tone commanding and refusing any protest. The blond catches on and nods, practically running from the figure standing in front of Jaskier.

The musician pouts, watching after the stranger before turning to the figure.

A woman with elegance oozing off of her stands there, a smirk on her face as she watches Jaskier with her arms crossed. "Come,” she says, beckoning for him to follow with two fingers.

Jaskier finds his feet following, a foggy film around the edges of his vision as he is inexplicably drawn to the woman with raven hair. She's dressed in dark clothes, clearly not trying to compete with the women in bright neon, so she’s absolutely not Jaskier's usual brand of conquest. But maybe that's the point, he thinks, as he follows the undeniable urge to approach her.

"Hello," she says, her voice low and luxurious. "Your name?" she asks, an eyebrow raised as Jaskier's body thrums with a sudden need to impress her.

"Jaskier," he says, his tongue heavy as he slides into the woman's space. He wants to ask, the desire sitting at the base of his throat but he can't get the words out.

She hums and turns, and Jaskier follows without hesitation, licking his lips as her scent invades his senses. Lilac and gooseberries. Intoxicating. The woman stops in a mostly empty hallway, a broad figure leaned against the hallway. "Jaskier, Geralt," she says, gesturing at the man as he straightens against the wall.

"Not surprised at your choice here, Yenn," Geralt says, the promise of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I feel like I need to be offended," Yennefer says, an eyebrow raised at the silver haired man.

"You can if you'd like. I'm just saying, you have a type when it comes to this game of ours," he says, his hand sliding down to squeeze Yennefer's hip once before approaching Jaskier.

Jaskier immediately knows something is wrong because he hasn't been able to get any words out since he was introduced to the hulking man in front of him. He knows the words, but he can’t make his mouth move, and Jaskier knows there must be magic involved because he could never stand in front of two beautiful people and not flirt with them.

"What can I say, I like them pretty," she answers, finger tucked under Jaskier's chin as she makes him look at her. "Do you know why you're here, Jaskier?" she asks, an eyebrow raised as his tongue finally loosens.

"To get thoroughly fucked, I hope," he says, a pink tint to his cheeks when Geralt snorts.

"Thought you said he'd behave," Geralt says, and Yenn hums.

"He answered the question, so, technically he hasn't misbehaved yet," Yennefer teases, her fingers fluttering over Jaskier's head and he sees glints of white and silver in the cloudy edges of his mind. "Or wrong," she says, smirking at the way Jaskier's eyes widen. Her own tongue darts out between her teeth and Jaskier mimics the movement. "You're here because we saw you out there," she continues, and Jaskier hates how his cock reacts to her words, but he does love an audience. "We saw the way you pressed your ass against anyone who came close..."

"Desperate for it," Geralt murmurs, smirk widening when Jaskier looks at him with wide eyes.

"Watched you move those hips..." Yennefer continues, her finger moving down Jaskier's neck.

"Slut, "Geralt growls, and Jaskier lets out a high, throaty whine. The white haired man steps around Jaskier, his lips so close to Jaskier's ear he can feel his breath. "Like a whore," he whispers into Jaskier's ear, and the brunet shudders and lets out a whimper.

"So we thought we'd take advantage of that," Yennefer says, hand reaching down to cup Jaskier's hardening cock. "Gonna take whatever we want, and I don't want to hear a sound from you," she continues, smirking when Jaskier's teeth click as his mouth shuts quickly.

Jaskier's brows furrow and worry flits across his face when he realizes he can't open it again. His eyes widen as he looks at Yennefer, but she just smirks before Geralt has an arm around his waist and is dragging his teeth — sharp, sharp, sharp — across Jaskier's skin. The realization of the situation, how helpless he is in this moment, makes Jaskier's heart race and he starts to wriggle in Geralt’s grip, but the man has a strong hold on him that only gets tighter with each wriggle.

"Love when they're as feisty as they are pretty," Geralt growls, breath tickling over Jaskier's neck.

Jaskier gasps — or he tries, but his body doesn’t make a noise — as Geralt presses him against the closest wall, the hard line of his cook pressed against Jaskier's ass.

"Your jeans are so tight, I can practically see your hole begging for me, you dirty whore," Geralt snarls into his ear as his fingers dig into Jaskier's waist.

"You're so hot when you're aggressive," Yennefer says, and Jaskier turns to look away from the wall to see her beside him, her back against the wall and a hand teasing the hem of her skirt. She smirks when she sees Jaskier's eyes flicker down, locking eyes with Geralt, who lets out a chuckle that’s low and dangerous and sends a thrill down Jaskier's spine.

"Only because you know you're still in control," he teases, pulling away from Jaskier's neck.

Jaskier knows he should be grateful for the reprieve but a part of him misses the weight of the broader man.

"Since you can't keep running that slutty mouth of yours, how about we put it to good use instead?" he growls into Jaskier's ear, and the musician hates the way his cock twitches.

He also hates the way he nearly melts when Geralt buries his hand in Jaskier's hair and shoves him until he's kneeling in front of Yennefer. Jaskier looks up at her, the cheeky glint in her eye making his blood run hot as she leans against the wall.

"Rumor is that musicians are good with their tongues,” she says, smirking up at Geralt. She bunches up her skirt, soft caramel skin exposed as she spreads her legs.

Jaskier inhales sharply when he realizes she isn't wearing any underwear, his cock fattening up in his trousers as Geralt tugs at his hair and pushes his face towards Yennefer's cunt.

Jaskier would moan if he could when her sweet, warm slick invades his senses. He wishes he could moan and make her aware of how good she tastes, how much he’s enjoying this even though he hasn’t had a say since before he left the dancefloor, but since he can't, he lets himself relax and follows the instructions whispered in the back of his mind by a gentle voice, darting his tongue out to lick and tease her entrance with fervor, tugging her thigh onto his shoulder.

Geralt's grip on his hair tightens as Yennefer reacts to Jaskier's ministrations. He leans in closer, kissing her deeply with zero care about the man kneeling between them.

Jaskier can feel Geralt's cock pressed against his neck as Yennefer pulls Geralt closer with a tug to his shirt. He can feel his lungs burning with the need for air, but he can't pull away, can’t even try. Briefly, he tries to take large inhales through his nose, but Yennefer doesn't let up until she's coming on his tongue, back arched and fingernails buried deep in Geralt's shoulder.

Yennefer shoves Jaskier's face away from her cunt when his tongue becomes too much for her and he realizes he has had two fingers buried in her as well, his mind too disoriented from the magic Yennefer had on him. He's only allowed a minute moment of disjointed clarity before his hair is being tugged and his head turned, his knees shuffling on the hard ground. Open up, the soft voice whispers in his mind and his lips part without hesitation.

Jaskier looks up at Geralt, the white haired man taking no time sheathing himself completely into Jaskier's mouth. He feels his throat react to the intrusion, but Geralt barely falters, pulling back for only a second before pushing back in so Jaskier has no choice but to take it. He feels tears prick at the back of his eyes as Geralt starts thrusting, his hand tight in Jaskier's hair.

Yennefer kneels behind Jaskier and slides her hand down to cup the bulge in his pants. "Look at how hard you are. Such a slut, getting off on being used like a toy," she says, and Jaskier wishes he could beg for her grip to tighten or move, but she keeps her hand light so he can't get the pleasure he needs. He wants to move, but her magic keeps him in place and he feels tears escape as Geralt fucks into his mouth.

"You've made him cry, Geralt, think he wants to come?" Yennefer asks, her fingernail brushing the outline of his cock, making Jaskier swallow around Geralt. The realization hits him that her spell is also working as the magical equivalent of a cock ring on him, and he thinks that alone could make him cry.

"Probably, sluts like him get off on being used like this," Geralt grunts, and Jaskier's tongue slides over his cock without the musician deciding to do it. “Fuck, Yen, do that again," he growls and Jaskier wants to scream when Yennefer’s hand disappears from near his cock.

"You can't come until we both do," Yennefer whispers in his ear, her fingers grazing over the hair on his stomach.

Jaskier doesn't get to think much about Yennefer's stipulation because almost immediately Geralt is shooting into his mouth. Movement is impossible even if Yennefer didn't have him spelled in place because Geralt’s grip on his hair is so tight it edges on the wrong side of painful. It just barely distracts him from the way Yennefer's hand presses between his cheeks, making his eyes widen.

"Is our pretty slut wearing a plug, Yen?" Geralt asks as he pulls his cock out of Jaskier's mouth.

"Mhm, a pretty sizable one too," she teases, tightening her arm around his waist as he leans against her. He's grateful for the relief from their touch, but then he hears it: stand. The command isn't particularly aggressive but his body wastes no time following the instruction.

Jaskier feels tears sting at his eyes as he stands, his cock hard and straining in his trousers. He can't do anything but stand there as Yennefer pulls his trousers down, the smirk on her face growing as she eyes his cock. Jaskier's lips part in a soundless gasp when Geralt pushes him forward, one hand spreading Jaskier's cheeks to reveal the plug he'd placed before leaving his flat this evening.

"It's like Christmas," Geralt teases, gripping the base of the plug and pulling it out slowly to the wides part before pushing it back in, making Jaskier gasp.

"Little slut likes it," Yennefer says, burying her hand in his hair. She wraps her hand around his cock and Jaskier thinks he's going to cry at how hard he is. Yennefer leans back against the wall, watching the way Jaskier's face twists as Geralt pulls the plug out of him.

Jaskier inhales sharply, his eyes wide as Yennefer bends over, hitching her skirt up. His body moves without his consent, hands on her hips as he lines himself up. She moans as he pushes in, her fingernails scratching at the wall. She's warm and slick and Jaskier thinks he could come from just being inside her if she didn't have a magical hold on his cock.

He's barely settled when Geralt bends him over again, the head of his cock teasing Jaskier's entrance. Jaskier closes his eyes, hoping he'll be gentle, and gasping — soundless, always soundless — when he thrusts in quickly pulling a cry from Yennefer as the force has Jaskier burying deeper inside her.

"Fuck yes, Geralt," Yennefer breathes out, reaching back to dig her nails into Jaskier's hip. That seems to be all the encouragement Geralt needs to start thrusting into Jaskier, fast and hard. Yennefer moans loudly, clearly not caring who hears her, as Jaskier is fucked into her.

Jaskier knows this shouldn't be turning him on, that he shouldn't find it incredibly hot that Yennefer is moaning another man's name as she pushes back on his cock or that Geralt is grunting in his ear about how slick and wet his cunt is for him, and yet, he feels the heat building up in his body, begging for release. His hand buries itself in Yennefer's hair, tugging and pulling another moan out of her.

"Gonna come, fuck, fill me up, Geralt," she moans, and the silver haired man fucks into Jaskier with more force, his chin nestled on Jaskiers' shoulder as he chases his orgasm. Yennefer cries out Geralt’s name when she comes, Geralt following soon after with a grunt and a bite into Jaskier's shoulder that isn’t hard enough to break skin, but will definitely bruise. As Geralt fills him, Jaskier comes too but the fog of his brain keeps him from being able to enjoy it like he normally does, the orgasm not wracking through him like it usually does.

He tries to make a noise as Geralt pulls out of him, his body unmoving until Yennefer pushes him off of her, his cock sliding out of her as she straightens up. Jaskier watches, leaking and half naked as his partners — could they be called that if he was merely a pawn in their games? — make themselves presentable. Jaskier's lips part when he feels something press against his sensitive hole, bending over at the behest of the voice in his head and letting Geralt push the plug back inside him. He straightens and is greeted by Yennefer smirking at him, gesturing at his trousers in silent command. He leans down to pull them on, the tight fabric uncomfortable against his sticky, oversensitive cock but he finishes the task without hesitation, a gift of her magic he assumes.

Yennefer smirks and pats his cheek once he's dressed before turning towards the exit, Geralt walking beside her. As she walks away, the claws of her magic loosens its grip on him and he falls against the wall for support, a warbled sound escaping him as he’s finally, finally able to make noise again. His phone chimes with a familiar ringtone and he pulls it out of his pocket.

Ready, little lark? the text reads and Jaskier takes in a deep, heavy breath before walking towards the exit Yennefer and Geralt had gone through. Cold air rushes at him as his eyes scan the parking lot, a weak smile painted across his face when he sees Geralt and Yennefer leaning against a dark gray SUV, in the middle of some conversation that pauses when Jaskier catches their eyes.

"Hello, little lark," Yennefer says, and her voice is soft and doesn't have any of the harshness from earlier, and Jaskier exhales quickly as he stumbles over to them. Her arms wrap around him easily, the scent of lilac and gooseberries invading his senses again as Geralt’s broad frame presses against him from behind, making him feel warm and cocooned in their hold. "You did so well for us, lark, was it everything you wanted?" she asks into his hair, and he nods wordlessly into her neck.

Geralt presses his lips against the back of Jaskier's hair gently. "Let's go home," he whispers into his hair.

"Yes please," Jaskier answers, his voice low and rough. Geralt opens the back door to let Yennefer and Jaskier climb in, the musician clinging to the sorceress as Geralt climbs into the driver's seat and starts driving.

There's silence for a few minutes before Jaskier nuzzles into Yennefer's shoulder, releasing a content sigh. "Thank you, that was perfect," he whispers as loud as he can manage, eyes fluttering shut.

"Anything for you Julek," Yennefer whispers into his hair as he dozes off in her arms.

#dead dove: do not eat #dead dove #consensual non-consent #dom/sub dynamics #geraskefer #the witcher #witcher fic #improper use of axii #kali writes

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handwrittenhello · 3 years

Text

(edit made by the wonderful @ghostinthelibrarywrites!)

Summary:

Yennefer stops, sinking into a crouch so that they’re on eye level. “Jaskier. You have a spell placed on you and I need to break it,” she explains.

“A spell?” Contrary to what any sane person would think when told they’ve been bespelled, Jaskier is wide-eyed and excited, the same look he gets as an adult whenever he senses a good story coming on. “What kind?”

“A dangerous one.” She hates to squash that light in his eyes, but it’s true—she doesn’t know what other side effects it might have. She needs to reverse it sooner rather than later—gods forbid it becomes permanent. “Now will you please come here? I’m a sorceress, and I can help.”

Spell after spell after spell she casts, getting more and more complex as she goes, but none work. “Fuck!” she roars as her latest attempt fails, once again.

“Madame Sorceress?” Jaskier asks, brow creasing, worry creeping in. “Is it—did it work?”

“No,” Yennefer replies, and sighs, because she knows what she has to do. Who better to break a curse, after all, than a witcher?

My entry for quick fic this week! Geraskefer, 3k, featuring deaged jaskier—read it here on ao3 or below!

It happens like this: Geralt so rudely decides he’s better off without the company of his very best friend in the whole wide world, and Jaskier thinks, well, fuck this, and goes to find the nearest tavern.

And then—because the gods love to hate him, it seems—he sets one foot inside, sees raven curls and expensive clothing, and immediately turns around and leaves. He’s had enough rejection for one day, thanks, and he’s not sure his poor, sensitive, bardic heart can handle any more barbed words, be they in unlikely jest or not.

“Where are you going, bard?” Yennefer calls, and every eye in the place turns to him. Shit. Well, he knows how to play a crowd, at least.

“Well, you see, I—I’m due a visit to my, um, my elderly grandmother, she—she needs my help, um, corralling her chickens—”

Or not. Why do his stunning intellect and quick tongue always disappear when she’s around?

Yennefer snorts. “Sure you are, and then I assume there’s a cat on a stove somewhere that you need to go save?”

Were it not for years of barding training every and all sense of embarrassment out of him, he’s sure his face would be aflame by now.

“Come have a drink. You’re better company than anyone else in this shit town,” she grumbles, and it’s then that Jaskier spies the numerous empty wine glasses on the table before her.

Misery loves two things—company and copious amounts of alcohol. And if she’s offering…

“You’re buying. I left my coin pouch with G—well. You’re buying,” he says, but he’s already sliding into the chair across from her and flagging down the barman.

A drink turns into two turns into ten, and shit, he can’t even remember why he ever thought maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Yennefer turns out to be much more tolerable when her inhibitions are lowered by drink, uncharitable though it is to think, but really, she’s so much more open, and her cheeks flush so prettily in the candlelight, and she even laughs—not the mean, bitter laugh she does whenever she’s mocking him (which is frequently), but a small flash of teeth, a breathy thing that turns into full-on cackling as it goes.

“I never knew—is this what Geralt sees in you?” Jaskier muses, running a finger along the rim of his glass. Then he pales, realizing what he's just said, and looks up to see that every trace of amusement in her face is gone.

“Whatever he felt for me, it wasn’t real,” Yennefer says harshly, pushing her chair back so fast that it tips backwards and falls to the floor with an audible THUD. She starts towards the stairs, presumably to her room.

Jaskier winces and follows after her, still a bit unsteady, but sobering up quickly in the wake of his gaffe. “Yennefer, wait—”

She’s too fast, and he only barely manages to stick his foot in the doorway before she can slam the door in his face. “Ouch,” he complains, and knows he’ll be feeling it much worse in the morning.

“Go away,” Yennefer hisses. “Don’t you know when a woman has had enough of your company? Or is that why Geralt had to scream it from a mountaintop, to get rid of you?”

Ouch. He flounders, every possible retort dying on his lips. “That’s not fair,” he almost wants to say, except that hurts even worse, so he says nothing. He does withdraw his foot, though, and she’s quick to slam the door, the lock clicking audibly into place moments later.

He thunks his head against the door. Why does he do this? Every time he thinks that someone might tolerate him, might actually want him around, he sticks his foot in his mouth and fucks it up.

“Fuck me,” he mutters to himself, then gathers the strength to peel himself away from the door. He debates for a moment just sleeping right here in the hallway, curled up in front of her door, rather than facing the mortifying ordeal of begging for a room with no coin to promise. But he's just as likely to get hexed as he is thrown out, and, well, at least if he’s thrown out he can sneak into the stables or something. He shudders to think what sort of nasty spells Yennefer could cast on him if she were to trip over him on her way out in the morning.

He sighs and turns to leave, only to hear the lock click again, followed shortly by the knob turning. The door swings open on its own, and, half fearing for his life, Jaskier peeks inside. Yennefer is sitting at a vanity, taking her makeup off, her back to the door.

Her eyes meet his in the mirror, and he yelps, tripping over himself in his haste to retreat. Yennefer rolls her eyes. “Are you going to come in, or are you going to flail around like an idiot?”

“Are you going to harvest my organs and use them for your magicks?”

“No.” He feels a bit better at that, only for her to immediately follow up with, “Your organs aren’t anywhere near good enough.”

He pouts, but edges inside, the door shutting itself behind him. “My organs are perfectly harvestable,” he argues, and then feels quite ridiculous, and shuts up before she actually does harvest them.

“Gods, this was a mistake,” Yennefer mutters under her breath, finishing with her makeup and pulling back the covers on the bed. “You can have the floor. Don’t touch my stuff.”

He gleefully sets his lute case down to claim a space before she can change her mind. He’s touched, really, that she cares enough to offer him this. “Can I have a pillo—” he starts to ask, sneaking a hand up towards the bed, only to yank it away when she smacks it.

“No. Good night, bard.”

Never mind, he’s not as touched.

He sighs and lies down, curling around his lute case like he does on the road. It’s warm, at least, the heat from the kitchen below rising up to warm the floor beneath him. He falls into a deep sleep, hastened by the alcohol, and stays that way for several hours, before his bladder makes its needs known.

Upon waking to see the moon still high in the sky, he groans, reaching a hand up onto the vanity to pull himself up. His questing fingers brush against a vial—whoops—and in his blind fumbling to catch and right it, he ends up knocking over several more bottles. Fuck.

“Sorry, sorry,” he hisses, when Yennefer stirs in bed. Gods, if he's just spilled something important, she really will hex him.

Something important begins to drip onto his hand. Gods fucking damn it. He tries to scrub it away, only for it to begin tingling and burning, quickly spreading up his arm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It’s encompassing his entire body, now, itching and prickling like his skin is too small. “Bard? What are you doing?” Yennefer asks sleepily, sitting bolt upright when she spots the overturned bottle and him scratching frantically as if that will make the sensation go away.

“I didn’t mean to,” he pleads, suddenly very scared, and not just of her. Whatever this enchantment is, it’s spreading fast—will he survive it?

“Is that my fucking anti-aging serum?” Yennefer demands. Jaskier, who has no idea what an anti-aging serum looks like, continues to panic. Even his insides feel weird, guts writhing and bones aching. It’s becoming more and more painful, too, until he can’t stand it anymore, and his vision narrows and darkens and his back hits the floor and then he knows no more.

That fucking idiot. That stupid, fumbling imbecile! Yennefer should have known better, really, should have known that the blundering, blithering bard would immediately find the only potentially dangerous thing in the room and spill it all over himself. Really.

She rolled out of bed, a headache already pounding behind her eyes—partially the wine’s influence, yes, but more at the sight in front of her: Jaskier, no longer a long-limbed adult, instead a small, slight child, swimming in silks.

“For the love of fuck,” she sighs, pinching her brow. Her anti-aging serum—which is meant to be used in small doses, one or two drops at the most—she never knew it would have this kind of effect. And now she has to play babysitter to the most annoying person on the Continent, all because he couldn’t keep his hands to his fucking self.

“Wake up,” she orders, refraining from kicking him like she might if he were an adult. She’s mean, but not mean enough to kick a child.

“Hm?” he hums, eyes blinking open, only to freeze when he sees her towering over him. “You’re not Mama,” he says, voice trembling.

Oh, shit. It’s taken his mind as well. For a brief moment, she dares to hope that perhaps he’ll be less trouble like this.

Then he scrambles to his feet and tries to dive out the window.

“Oh no you don’t, you little shit,” she curses, and sends a small spell to trip him up before he can escape. “Stop that.” He stumbles, little palms meeting the wooden floor when he tries to catch himself. She finishes by flicking a finger and latching the window shut, same with the door. The last thing she needs is a de-aged, runaway bard.

Well, if he were to run away, technically he wouldn’t be her problem anymore…

But that’s too heartless, leaving a child on his own like that—and Yennefer can’t deny that her hardened heart has always held a soft spot for children.

That soft spot grows a little softer when Jaskier scoots back against the wall and bursts into loud, messy tears.

She doesn’t know what to do, really, doesn’t know how to comfort him—she can’t remember when she last comforted anyone. “Stop crying,” she orders instead. “Those tears won’t get you anything.”

Incredibly, it works. Whether it’s the shock of being spoken to so harshly, or they were only crocodile tears, she doesn’t know, and doesn’t care. What matters is that he’s finally stopped, and she can actually try and fix this mess now.

“Where’s my mama?” he demands, glaring at her distrustfully. Good, that’s an instinct that will keep him alive someday. “If you want a ransom, then—then Papa says that he won’t pay. Says I’m too much trouble, so you should—you should really just take me home, or else—or else he’ll come here and he’ll kill you.” He lifts his chin defiantly to punctuate his statement.

Well. That’s a lot to unpack, but she’s going to go ahead and shelve that for now. “I haven’t kidnapped you,” she says irritably, then considers the best way to break it to him.

…There is no best way, so she decides not to.

“Then where am I? And who are you?”

“That’s not important. Now come here,” she says, advancing on him and readying a spell that will hopefully reverse the effects of the serum.

He shakes his head, shrinking back further against the wall. His eyes flick between her and the door, and she’s guessing he’s about to make a run for it.

She stops, sinking into a crouch so that they’re on eye level. “Jaskier. It��s very important that I do this. You have a spell placed on you and I need to break it,” she explains.

He nods, pushing away from the wall and coming to sit in front of her, legs crossed.

“You might feel a tingling, or even a bit of hurt,” she warns, and he nods again, his face creasing in worry and determination.

She’s just about to start when—“Can I hold your hand?” he blurts out. “Mama lets me hold her hand when I—”

She takes his hand before he can launch into some inane explanation. His hand is warm and delicate in hers, no trace of lute callouses to be found. He brightens immediately, gently squeezing their fingers together.

Her eyes, traitors, are getting misty. She angrily clears her throat and begins to cast—the sooner she can reverse this, the better.

Yennefer tries a simple reversal, first. Generic, easy, and evidently not likely to work. No matter. She lets it go and pulls forth another—a spell of speed, to hasten his aging. It fights against her, like drawing a bow, getting more and more difficult as she progresses—she lets that one go, too, lest it snap in her hands like a bowstring rebounding.

Spell after spell after spell, getting more and more complex as she goes, but none work. “Fuck!” she roars as her latest attempt fails, once again.

“Madame Sorceress?” Jaskier asks, brow creasing, worry creeping in. “Is it—did it work?”

“No,” Yennefer replies, and sighs, because she knows what she has to do. Who better to break a curse, after all, than a witcher?

“You’re shitting me,” is the first thing Geralt says after Yennefer explains the situation.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Yennefer yells, while Jaskier cringes behind her skirts. Despite his excitement at getting to meet a real life witcher, the actual experience has since proven to be a bit much for him. “I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice, believe me,” she bites out, and Geralt winces, but wisely chooses not to comment.

“De-aged, then?” Geralt asks, sinking down onto his heels. “You can call me Geralt,” he says, and Jaskier peeks out at him.

“Julian,” Jaskier answers, and Yennefer remembers him introducing himself as such to the dwarves. “You’re a witcher?”

“I am,” Geralt nods. “I’m here to help. Did Yennefer explain what’s going on?”

“She said I had a spell on me. But I don’t feel spelled.”

“Mhmm. They can be tricky like that,” Geralt offers.

“Can we get on with it?” Yennefer asks. “This is all very nice, but we still don’t know what the side effects may be.”

“Fine,” Geralt says, standing up and holding out a hand to Jaskier. “Julian, why don’t you come meet my horse.” Jaskier lights up, latching onto Geralt immediately. Yennefer tries not to mourn the loss—why would she? She’s glad to be rid of the annoying little shit, she tells herself.

Geralt gets him situated with Roach, petting gently over her neck and mane, before returning to Yennefer. “I’ve only ever heard of this happening once before,” he begins. “Woman walked into the woods on An Skellig, came out a little girl.”

“And what happened to her?”

“Locals were stumped, until they remembered the old songs. Tír na nÓg.”

Yennefer scoffs. “Skellige fairy tales? That’s all you’ve got?”

“It’s not just a tale. They took her to the bridge during fog season, let her walk across, and she returned three days later all grown up, and no memory of it.”

Yennefer closes her eyes. It’s the only lead they’ve got, and they both know it. “Skellige it is, then. I can’t portal us all and Roach there, though.”

“Good. I hate portals. We’ll head to Novigrad, catch a merchant ship.”

Setting out on the road together is surprisingly easy. Though the fiery passion between them has simmered down, Yennefer still finds she enjoys Geralt’s company, when she forgets to be angry at him. It helps to have Jaskier there as a buffer, oddly enough—Geralt seems to sense her moods keenly, and often makes himself scarce, taking Jaskier with him to identify herbs as they walk, or carrying him on his shoulders as Jaskier tries to reach the lowest branches of the fruit trees they pass.

And sometimes she finds herself alone with Jaskier when Geralt is off hunting, or tending to Roach, or doing whatever the fuck it is he does when he’s alone. He proves to be, if not a scintillating conversational partner, very eager to learn, especially when she explains magical theories to him.

“When I grow up, I want to be a sorceress!” he proclaims one night, and she can’t help but smile.

“What about a witcher? Last I recall, you wanted to be a witcher yesterday,” she teases.

“I can do both!” Jaskier insists. “A witcher-sorceress. They’ll write songs about me!”

He never really has changed, has he?

The journey to An Skellig is largely uneventful—there’s one exciting moment, when they spot a blue whale off the bow of the ship, but other than that, it’s a monotony of rolling waves and bouts of seasickness for Jaskier.

They’re all glad to set foot on dry land when they finally do. They’re so close that Yennefer can taste it—though she can’t deny that young Julian has grown on her, and she’ll almost be sad to see him gone.

She swallows her feeling and continues on, trekking through the woods as Geralt leads them to the bridge to Tír na nÓg. The temperature drops as they go, until Jaskier is shivering atop Roach. Yennefer conjures a cloak for him with hardly a thought, and he throws a grateful smile at her.

They keep on, the forest growing darker, and just when she’s about to demand that they stop for the night and continue on tomorrow, the trees before them break, revealing a breathtaking view.

An arched bridge spans a perfectly placid lake ringed by trees, a fine mist overlaying the whole scene. This must be it—the bridge to Tír na nÓg, the land of youth.

Geralt has instructed Jaskier on what to do over the course of their journey, of course—for neither of them can accompany him. He has to face this trial alone. “Are you ready?” Geralt asks, helping Jaskier down from Roach. Jaskier nods, little face screwed in determination.

Anxiety flutters at Yennefer’s throat as she watches him cross the bridge, and she’s about ready to call it off, but Geralt holds her back. “Let him go,” he says quietly.

Jaskier disappears into the mist, and they begin their wait.

It turns out to be not very long at all. The sun is just only beginning to rise when Geralt rouses from his meditation, waking Yennefer as well. He looks out across the bridge, witcher senses focused on something Yennefer can’t.

And then Jaskier appears, back to his normal, adult self, grinning brightly. “Geralt! Yennefer!” he shouts, and breaks into a run. Geralt catches him as he leaps, drawing the witcher into a tight hug. It only lasts a few seconds, and then Jaskier is turning to Yennefer and pulling her into a hug as well. She stiffens, but doesn’t pull away.

“Thank you both for taking care of me. I know I couldn’t have been the easiest child,” he says wryly.

“You were fine,” Geralt says, at the same time Yennefer replies, “I don’t know, you might have been preferable as a child.”

“Rude,” Jaskier pouts, but he’s still hugging her.

There’s still so much they need to talk about—that damned mountain, for one—but right now, it doesn’t feel nearly so important. It’s enough to have this moment of peace, the three of them all reunited and as they should be.

#the witcher #geraskefer #geraskier #yenskier #yenralt #jaskier #yennefer #geralt #witcher fanfiction #mine

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