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fangirleaconmigo · 4 months

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Geralt x Jaskier Geraskier First kiss, friends to lovers

Geraskier Dancing

When Geralt of Rivia was a child, he begged Vesemir to teach him the kind of dances they performed at court. The answer was always no, but he kept trying.

After the trials, when Vesemir seemed so affected by his eyes, Geralt would widen them and look up at his tutor, pleading.

After all, Geralt thought, what if he rescued a fair maiden, and she demanded that he accompany her to a party? Perhaps she would drag him, giggling and flushed, onto the dance floor. He would be her noble savior, and she would be his grateful maiden.

He didn’t tell Vesemir his reasoning of course. He said that it might be important for royal courts, with kings in them. Wouldn’t it be best if he could fit in? Fencing was similar to dance, so surely Vesemir could handle teaching it.

Vesemir sighed and gave him the same speech he always gave.

"Geralt. You are not training to be a knight. Put that out of your mind. You are a professional. A working man.

Further, you are a mutant now. You will not be greeted with gratitude. You will be lucky to be greeted with the cash that you are promised."

Geralt felt stubborn. Furious. But he knew when to drop the subject.

Vesemir would pat his shoulder and offer him a sweet bread. His eyes always held regret.

Geralt understood him now. After years of hard lessons, he understood. When he thought back on his youth, he felt like a dolt.

The women he saved were traumatized. He was meeting them during the most terrified, violent moments of their lives. They screamed, bled, and threw up. And they all ran. With his bloody sword and ashen skin, he looked little different from the monsters he fought.

At least to them.

And yet?

He still learned how to dance, despite having given up the dream.

It started with Jaskier of course, like most misadventures and novel undertakings. The young bard had just shown up in his life one day and sort of just...never left.

His enthusiasm, energy, and optimism infected Geralt's life, as did the handsome twinkle in his eyes.

One night, after several glasses of wine they shared their most ridiculous childhood dreams. Jaskier admitted that he wanted to publicly rub his success in his family's face, to make their rejection sting less. So Geralt admitted that he'd always stupidly wanted to woo a grateful damsel on a dance floor.

He thought they were just talking nonsense, so he was startled when suddenly, Jaskier was on his feet, woozy and holding out a hand.

"C'mon. Lesgo." Jaskier jerked his curly, disheveled head towards an empty spot on the tavern large enough maybe for one large man.

Geralt refused at first. It was silly. Besides, They were both men. Who would lead?

But Jaskier simply grabbed his hand. When they touched, Geralt found that all of his resistance dissipated like a magic spell. He found himself standing and allowing himself to be dragged. And after they moved a few tables, he found himself touching the small of Jaskier's back and swaying with him.

Why didn't it feel odd? It should have felt odd.

It probably felt fine because they were alone.

They always danced alone.

They would be in a bar that was emptying out, the last drunkards stumbling home. Jaskier would be inviting, leaning against him, words slightly slurring.

Geralt selfishly loved him like that, not because Jaskier would lose his inhibitions, but because Geralt would. Plausible deniability.

"No one is here, Geralt. You won't ruin your fearsome rep--rep--pox on it. People won't see you." Jaskier waved dismissively as he dragged him.

The bard's lips grew pinker when he drank, and his cheeks flushed when they danced.

So Geralt let himself be led into the middle of empty bars, dance halls, and sometimes even just under the stars near a campfire.

"Y'need this for" *hiccup* "d'plomacy." Jaskier tugged him this way and that.

Despite the slurring, Jaskier always moved gracefully, like a swan. He'd sing to himself, lost in the music, touching Geralt with surety, guiding him. His body would be warm and little puffs of his wine soaked breath would drift towards Geralt. The witcher would inhale and try to control the surge of something primal in him awakening from a terribly long slumber.

Jaskier always led.

"I thought you were teaching me to dance with ladies," Geralt complained playfully one night. Jaskier was leading him in a lazy circle under some street lanterns on an abandoned street. Trash and litter was everywhere, left over from the spring festival. Their feet crunched on discarded candy wrappers as they moved.

"I am," Jaskier huffed indignantly, eyes hazy. "You must charm these noble ladies. It's not easy, you know. You must practice."

Geralt bit the side of his mouth trying not to smile. He didn't want to ruin the moment. He was so close to Jaskier, the closest he ever got to stand. "But I'm not learning to lead."

"Oh, s'fine. You'll just," Jaskier gestured, twirling his hand in a circle, "turn it all round." Then it was a rolling motion. "Flip it. Change it backwards. You know what I mean. They'll love it."

It was quiet for a moment, Geralt turned his head and crept closer, so he could secretly smile to himself.

"You already complain they simper around me," he murmured near his friend's ear. "You want to make it worse?"

Jaskier snorted loudly. "They're just trying to get to me, Geralt, you know that. Price of fame!!"

Then he spun Geralt, and all the while, Geralt grumbled, purposely moving stubbornly. "I don't twirl, Jaskier."

Jaskier was wobbly and dismissive. "Y'doing great."

Geralt really did learn during those nights. But they never spoke of it in the morning. Those nights were sacred and untouchable lest they shattered in the light of day.

But one day, they finally, truly paid off.

Geralt wanted to run and tell Vesemir. He'd been right. He had needed to learn the skill after all.

Because one spring day he rescued a beautiful young woman, and she was grateful. She was lovely, truly. Her auburn hair cascaded down her back, caressing her delicate waist.

She had been menaced by a werewolf and run screaming into Geralt's arms, invitation to a ball at the ready. It was just like in his youthful dreams.

The werewolf wasn't such a bad guy to be honest. His name was Gil. And he wasn't so much menacing her as he was trying to say hello and simultaneously coughing. But it was an unpleasant sound to be sure. It was a hacking cough.

Geralt had intervened, having been sent there on an errand by Jaskier. The witcher took Gil aside to speak to him. The werewolf was moving on, anyway. He'd just come to see a picnic of beautiful women that Jaskier had told him about, thinking he would say hello.

Geralt wanted to shake Jaskier. Gently of course. To tell his friend that yes, he had needed help with dancing, but certainly did not need help with finding ladies to rescue. They were lying about everywhere there were monsters. Jaskier wasn't around though, he was nervously flitting around at fittings and lute tunings, preparing anxiously for the dance.

It was silly of course.

And to be honest, the young woman hadn't needed much rescuing. Gil's nose was still sore where she had hit him with her bag.

But nonetheless, when she'd seen Geralt she'd sighed and pretended to be quite helpless.

Geralt carried her to safety on Roach, and she had invited him to a dance that night. They were in Lettenhove, and the dance would be packed with nobles. It was the perfect setup.

Geralt got ready with trembling fingers. He laced on his best armor and slicked down his hair. His stomach was weak just to think of it.

When Geralt arrived, the maiden was there in a stunning gown. She arrived breathlessly, ready for her dance. She batted her eyes and curtseyed.

Geralt bowed slightly, and led her onto the dance floor. After a few moments, her raptured attention began to cool. She was well educated and polite, but Geralt caught her regretful glances towards the handsome young nobles in the corner.

He didn't blame her. He was not a small man, and he was stepping on her toes.

The bloom was very quickly off the rose for the young maiden.

"I'm sorry. My mistake." Geralt muttered at every wrong turn.

If you had asked Geralt as a child, whether the disappointment of a maiden would sting, he would have imagined so.

But it didn't. This was not what he had come for. This was not why his stomach had done somersaults as he had laced on his armor. It was because this party was not just packed with nobles, but very particular nobles from a very specific family.

Geralt glanced up to find him.

Jaskier stood off to the side, close by, clutching a glass of wine, and staring daggers at his cousin across the room. His cousin was a handsome man, if you went in for that kind of thing, though not as handsome as Jaskier. But he was holding court with several ladies.

Geralt excused himself with the relieved young lady who tried to look as though she were not fleeing.

Geralt came up behind Jaskier, and touched his back.

Jaskier did not jump or startle. He must have known Geralt's touch and scent by now. He simply turned and smiled.

"You're here!" Jaskier looked behind him. "And Juliet?"

Geralt shrugged. "I never actually learned to lead."

Jaskier's face fell. "I'm sorry, I-" he looked mortified, "-I don't actually know how to teach dance. I only know how to dance. I was just-"

Geralt cut him off by pulling him into his arms with an 'oof'.

Jaskier startled, leaning eagerly into the embrace. But then he remembered himself and looked around cautiously.

"I don't care if they see," Geralt whispered. "I want them to. Let the miserable bastards gossip until their throats are sore."

The widest, brightest grin he had ever seen blossomed on his handsome bard's face. "Well then." Jaskier straightened his shoulders and cleared a catch in his throat. Let me do this properly."

The bard gently detangled himself from Geralt's arms. Then he bowed at the waist and held out a hand. "Geralt of Rivia? May I have this dance?"

Geralt nodded and straightened his jacket. "You may, Viscount Julian of Lettenhove."

Jaskier held his hand with both of his, but he shook his head and whispered. "No. Viscount Julian is theirs. I am Jaskier. I am yours."

Geralt's heart melted. He did not know how to cope with that, so he just nodded.

The music fell silent, and a new song began.

The witcher and the bard were the first couple out on the floor. It may have started as a way to help Jaskier rub his success in his family's eyes. But almost instantly they forgot all about that. They lost themselves in the movement, the laughter, they only saw each other.

But Jaskier's family saw. His mother. His father. His envious cousins. They all saw that he was loved. That he was talented, famous, and loved.

Geralt didn't think a whole lot about Vesemir that night.

He simply danced. And when the last note on the last song died out, he touched Jaskier's chin. His love's eyes lit up with hope. Geralt didn't want to draw out the suspense, so he pulled him in for a kiss. It was tender and they were sweaty, their hearts beating in their chests.

It felt right. And not because they were alone. It was because they loved each other.

When Geralt visited Vesemir during the winter, he brought up his childhood dream. He would tell the old witcher that he understood now.

Love wasn't something you earned through daring acts. It wasn't something you extracted from terrified women as the price for their safety.

Love was a bard who tried his damndest to fulfill your dreams at the expense of his own.

Love was taking him in your arms and fulfilling his.

Well, Geralt tried to say all that. Perhaps it didn't come out the way he meant. Perhaps he stumbled over his words and grunted some.

But when he pulled Jaskier into the room to introduce him to Vesemir, the old witcher understood.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #descarada writes geraskier #i hope you enjoy it my geraskier friends

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renren-006 · 2 months

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Hi there! I’m an angst addict so I was thinking like a story about the sorcerer ball that Geralt and Yennefer attend in season 3 but with the Reader who is like dating Geralt has to stay behind with Jaskier and Ciri has some jealousy because of Geralt and Yen’s history and starts thinking that our white wolf would prefer her instead….if that makes sense 😭

Preference? | Geralt x Fem Reader

word count: 909

a/n: omg yesss!! i had fun writing this so enjoyyyyy!!

The ball was that evening, and after the long boat ride and fight you, Geralt, and Ciri had to go through, you were looking forward to it. What you didn't expect was Geralt sidelining you with Jaskir and Ciri. You stood there dumbfounded and Yennifer and Geralt explained that it would make more sense to have more people watch Ciri. You watched him leave that night in an elegant outfit and a single kiss before he went towards the castle.

“He loves you, you know that right Y/N” Jaskir said to you.

“How Jask. Look at Yennefer. I'll never look like her, and I'll never be as powerful…” you told him. You and Jaskir were best friends before Geralt even entered the picture. He glanced over at you, seeing you go through heartbreak after heartbreak. This time, both of you wanted this to be the last. He hugged you as Geralt disappeared beyond sight.

Ciri, however, didn't notice anything. Absorbed in her own little world for a bit, or at least for most of the night, she didn't let on that she had been listening to you. She saw the way Yennifer was eying Geralt. It wasn't until a few card games that she talked about it.

“I prefer you over Yennefer.” She told you. Jaskir looked at you, seeing the smile and shock on your face. “I don't like that he didn't ask you to go.”

“I…I don't either, Ciri” you told the young girl.

“He loves you. I think he's just being stupid,” Ciri told you, comforting you. The young girl had taken a strong liking to you in the years you had been with and known her. She thought of you like a mother, a guardian, someone she knew would lay down her life to protect her. You managed to find her before Geralt and keep her safe while helping her find your lover and her guardian. Once you did, it felt like a family reunion. You remember meeting Yen with them and discovering her betrayal. Seeing her now and knowing she was trying to be genuine, you had no reason to worry, yet you did. The rest of the night was a mix of worry and jealousy.

You worried he would realize how much better the woman before him that night was than you. How powerful she was and how it barely compared to you. How could she teach Ciri far better than you could about magic, even though Ciri had mastered most, if not all, of what you had taught her so far. You just wanted Geralt to love you for you, and you felt as thought you might always be compared to her.

When morning came, and Geralt walked through the door with Yennifer, you noticed he wore a different outfit. You glanced at Yennifer, who was doing her best not to look over at you. Her face was flush, and her eyes were cast down away from you. Your worries were confirmed.

“I knew it,” you said. Geralt's eyes flashed with worry, worry that you had figured it out. You stormed out the back door, and Geralt followed after.

“Y/N! Y/N/N!” he yelled. Your flowy flower dress flowed in the wind as you continued storming off towards the woods, wishing to be with the trees. Soon after, you fell to the ground in the middle of a clearing, hearing and feeling the forest energy.

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked, kneeling next to you.

“You slept with Yennifer didn't you?” you asked, tears in your eyes. “You know I'm nothing compared to her. How could I ever expect to be better than her? You'll always want her…”

“Y/N that's not true” Geralt said, his husky voice causing you to shiver away.

“Yes it is” you said, power serging from you, rumbling the woods. “I am nothing compared to Geralt, I have less power, less beauty...”

“Y/N! I told her I wanted to marry you "Geralt said, holding your face in his hands.

“What?” you said. Suddenly everything in you went quiet, including the world around you.

“I told her I wanted to spend my life with you from now on. That she meant nothing to me anymore.” Geralt's words cut through you. Yennifer's downward look wasn't because she was sorry she slept with him, but because she was sorry she tried to and got rejected. You realize that Geralt's clothes were probably because he was tired from the long night of fighting that Yen lent him clothes, not because he wanted to stay.

“You want to marry me?” you asked him, tears in your eyes

“Yes,” he said firmly.

“I'm sorry…I was…” you stumbled over words.

“It's okay. Darling i understand” He said kissing your tears away, “I understand why you got there. Why you think I loved her? I don't”

“I know that now” you said slightly laughing, “I love you”

“I know, darling,” he said. He helped you stand and walk back towards that little cottage with your family inside. Yennifer came over and apologized profusely. She wanted nothing more than to be friends and to set up the wedding. She was happy he found someone like you and that she wouldn't ever get in the way. You were happy your worries were not true and that Geralt was the man for you forever.

#witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt and ciri #geralt z rivii #the witcher x reader #the witcher #henry cavill

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echo-bleu · 2 years

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While I’m staying away from all the speculation, all those posts and memes about Jaskier either being the only one who can see Geralt is different or the only one who can’t and keeps insisting that yes of course, that’s Geralt, are giving me ideas.

Namely: faceblind Jaskier. Bear with me. He can’t recognize any face, including his own in the mirror (when he finds a mirror, it’s not that often). That’s why he flirts with everyone, flirting is just his default mode in case it’s someone he’s met before, because at its core it’s kind of roleplaying. While people may not respond to it well, they mostly don’t bat an eye at cheesy joke-y pickup lines where Jaskier ‘pretends’ to meet them for the first time (”Do you come here often?”). Meanwhile it buys Jaskier time to figure out if he has in fact met them before.

(Demi or ace Jaskier? Who flirts for the reasons above and mostly has sex with people because he figures it’s expected of him?)

It’s also the reason he makes so many enemies. Sure, there are actual cuckooed husbands who hate him, but really it’s mostly former lovers who are horribly offended when Jaskier ‘snubs’ them at a reception because he just didn’t recognize them. Or former lovers horribly offended that he tried to flirt with them again pretending not to know them after they threw him out. There are also plenty of people who were never his lovers at all but are just offended because nobles are Like That.

(There have been some really embarrassing situations. Like the time he tried to flirt with Valdo Marx, his eternal rival, who still laughs about it every time they see each other.)

He latches onto Geralt because Geralt is recognizable. There just aren’t two white-haired wolf-eyed muscular men around. Jaskier never has to worry about seeing him and being unsure if it’s actually his friend and not some random stranger with the same haircut. Geralt also never changes his haircut or his appearance in any way, which is refreshing.

Yennefer is mostly the same, with her violet eyes, although Jaskier does have to get close enough to be sure. They have a few weird encounters where Jaskier starts to flirt with her, gets within a few feet, and immediately backtracks the hell out with a disgusted face. That’s how she figures it out, but it takes her a while. After that she takes great pleasure in teasing him about it, but only in ways that no one else will clock (hence the crows’ feet comment. Jaskier doesn’t even know himself in the mirror. He can’t tell if she’s right. He does obsess over it the whole way up the mountain, but he has other things to think about on the descent).

The witchers of Kaer Morhen, when Jaskier meets them, are so refreshing. They’re all different! Eskel is unmistakeable with his scars, and while they’re within the confines of Kaer Morhen it’s very easy to distinguish Lambert’s red hair from Coen’s shaved head and darker skin from Vesemir’s white beard. Ciri is of course the only kid, so that’s not a problem. For the first time in his life, Jaskier doesn’t feel like he’s playing catch up to a game whose rules he doesn’t know. It’s relaxing.

The witchers, on the other hand, are quite surprised about Jaskier. They’ve been told (many times, over the years) that Jaskier flirts with everyone under the sun. Now Geralt isn’t always the most reliable source, of course, and Eskel never expects anyone to be attracted to him because of his scars (which is a subject for another day), but Jaskier doesn’t even try to flirt, even just friendlily, with either Lambert or Coen. He’s not afraid of them, they would be able to smell that, he seems perfectly comfortable with them, but he doesn’t flirt. At first, they figure that it’s because his newly mended relationship with Geralt is still fragile.

One night they’re all a bit drunk and the witchers are talking about how Jaskier’s songs have helped them on the Path, how many humans are much nicer to them, and in general how hard interacting with humans is. And Jaskier is just nodding along, “Yeah, yeah, interacting with humans is so hard.”

“But you’re always going out of your way to talk to people and flirt!”

“Well yes, I like making friends, but they have so many expectations, and they get angry so easily.”

“That’s only when you flirt with the wrong people,” Geralt growls.

“But how am I supposed to know it’s the wrong people when I can’t recognize them?”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks.

“Faces are hard! I don’t know how people do it, I mean, obviously your scars are distinctive, and I’d recognize Geralt’s hair anywhere, but most humans all look the same!”

Geralt blinks very slowly as it all slots into place in his head. Jaskier’s very strange flirting methods. The way he keeps making enemies without meaning to. Hell, he’s seen Jaskier say hello again to someone they’d seen just minutes before, or completely ignore one of his bard friends at a festival until she came right up to him. “You don’t recognize people?”

Jaskier, who didn’t survive forty-three(ish) years without figuring out that this wasn’t normal, freezes and suddenly looks like a deer in the headlights. “Uh... no?”

“So if, say, Vesemir was to shave his beard, you might confuse him with Geralt?” Lambert asks.

“I’d... probably be able to tell from up close? Geralt’s taller.”

“Wow.” Lambert seems ready to tease him about it, but Eskel stops him.

“How did you never notice?” he asks Geralt.

Geralt just grunts. Jaskier answers for him. “I’m very good at making people feel like we’ve always known each other, I guess. Mostly I just buy time until I can figure out if I’ve met them before.”

The witchers have a million questions, but they never make Jaskier feel like he’s deficient somehow. Jaskier has always been ashamed of it, but to them, it’s just another quirk, like not being able to eat raw meat.

The next time they’re on the road, or at a festival together, Geralt is brooding just as much as usual, eyes darting this way and that, but before Jaskier can go and greet people (with his usual fake-it-till-you-make-it technique), Geralt stops him.

“Your friend Essi’s wearing a yellow dress with red accents,” he mutters under his breath. “Marx has a green doublet, that shade you hate. Avoid the man in the bright purple doublet and the brown pants, you slept with him last time and he threw you out. That woman at the right of the stage with the braid, she has a husband, you tried before.”

Jaskier gets so emotional that he can’t speak for a solid minute, and he ends up hugging Geralt instead. “Didn’t know you paid attention,” he says eventually.

“Just look at me if you’re not sure who someone is, I’ll tell you who to avoid,” Geralt says gruffly.

It’s not a perfect system, but Jaskier doesn’t offend a single person all day.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #the witcher fanfiction #faceblindness #i'd like to have a spotter too please #i used to work at a library and when people came in after lunch #i had no idea if they'd been in that morning #i'd say hello and they'd be like uh i was here earlier #echo's fanfiction

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thefandomlifechoseme · 6 months

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consider:

professor!Jaskier, who teaches in the winter, and travels with Geralt in the summer.

it's winter, jaskier's got to oxenfurt in good time, his students are polite and attentive, and they've been going missing. not many, and not often, but alice didn't turn up to that guest lecture she'd insisted she'd be going to, peter hasn't turned up in a week, and catherine never came to that meeting the other day.

his colleagues think it's some monster. he has to talk them out of hiring a witcher, citing the fact that they don't know what it is, witchers don't take contracts on people, and, oh yeah, it's winter. the only witchers currently available for hire are the Cats, and it's incredibly unlikely that their caravans will stop by oxenfurt.

now, jaskier's been travelling with his beloved emotionally-constipated witcher for a fair few decades now. it might be a monster, some necrophage, or a werewolf. but it probably isn't. there's a reason witchers don't work in winter, and it's that monsters hibernate. and besides, the dates that the students went missing don't line up with any particular cycle, lunar or otherwise.

they do however, line up with the dates for a fae festival. now, jaskier isn't saying that the fae did this, but the fae did this.

so, he checks the next relevant date, sends a letter to yennefer, triss and one for when geralt hits the path again, as a precaution, because he's not an idiot, no matter how he likes to play the part.

he brings an iron dagger, enough food and water for 2 weeks, his best lute, his composition notebook, his path notebook, and, begrudgingly, some of valdo's less terrible works and a few of essi's latest ballads, because they have different styles of performing, and he waits outside that mushroom circle he found a few years back.

he hopes that they're only after some music to live their festival up.

(they are, thankfully, and, aside from all the word games, mind games, and actual games, it's fairly easy to get their leader to sign a contract with him stating that they will play at this festival and his festival alone, they may, willingly play at other festivals if they choose, that they're all free to leave after the allotted dates for the festival are up, and that this contract will be good for 1,000 years irrespective of any changes in leadership, with him personally, and that any changes to the contract must be verbally, and explicitly signed by all the people involved in the signing of the contract.

it's actually fairly entertaining.)

(yen and triss have a go at him later, of course, and geralt has him go over all the loopholes in his own contracts for their next five years on the path, supposedly to help him get the most money he can, but they both know it's so he doesn't accidentally leave a loophole in any other contracts he might make with the fae. but it's out love and relief, more than anything.)

#witcher fic #fanfiction #headcanons #headcanon #the witcher jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #witcher yennefer #triss merigold #witcher triss #jaskier #witcher dandelion

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headcanonthings · 2 months

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Maybe it’s just in the fics I’m reading but I really feel like we don’t take enough advantage of Jaskier being a Master of the Seven Liberal Arts. It’s a line that gets thrown out now and then usually just attached when Jaskier is introducing himself and really trying to impress someone. I just want something that explores that part of him a bit more

I also think that it would combine really well with one of those fics that has Jaskier meeting other witchers without Geralt.

Like maybe he writes popular short stories which Eskel adores and runs into him a couple times in the bigger cities doing book signings

Vesemir has a special interest in Astronomy and has a subscription to the Witcher equivalent of a scientific journal where he reads an interesting article by Jaskier and decides to write him with some follow up questions not really expecting a response but gets one and this quickly turns into a years long correspondence

I haven’t fully thought this through so not sure which of the arts he’d be using to meet up with Lambert, Aiden or even Coen (or other witchers depending on how many you want to meet up with him) but do you get what I’m saying?

I also think it would be funny if he’s using a different pseudonym when he meets each witcher so when they all get together and talk about their new friend they don’t realize they’re all talking about the same guy

#if this fic exists please send it to me #witcher #Jaskier #fanfic #fanfic prompt?#geralt of rivia #eskel #vesemir

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geraskierfanficprompts · 29 days

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Prompt 15

Jaskier realizes that when Geralt comes back from a hunt, pent up, eyes black, still snarling and panting like a beast, the only thing that helps is cuddling him. He hugs him, and runs his hands through Geralt's hair, and gently washes him with a rag and hushes words into his ear, and it helps bring Geralt back down. Sometimes he wakes up to Geralt coming back from a late-night hunt and immediately grabbing Jaskier's waist and yoINking him into Geralt's bedroll so they can snuggle. It's cute. And Jaskier certainly has no complaints.

Jaskier tries to ask him about it one time, but all it earns him is a "Shut up, Bard." and Geralt acting weird the rest of the day. Maybe he's embarrassed? Jaskier doesn't know why. He has no idea what the potions must feel like to Geralt, perhaps he truly needs the warmth and mass of a person in order to not want to rip his own hair out or scratch off his own skin or something else? So he's just fine with hugging his beefcake of a bestie (of whom he may be completely head over heels in love with) if it means keeping some awful ailment at bay. And he believes this for at least a decade, before he meets Geralt's brothers. Don't get him wrong, they're lovely people! But one day, an exceptionally difficult hunt calls for all three of them to go together and leave Jaskier at camp. Jaskier is a bit concerned over how he'll comfort all three of them at once, but when they come back, he finds that Geralt is suddenly ignoring him, and Lambert and Eskel are acting normal, if not just very exhausted. Jaskier pulls Lambert aside and asks him why they're not itching to hug him, and Lambert is very confused. Jaskier explains that usually Geralt needs to hold him in order to deal with the after-effects of his potions. Lambert explains that's not a normal witcher thing, and that Geralt probably just likes him, but he explains it in his own lovely lambert-y way, meaning it's mostly just laughing hysterically at his big brother catching feelings for some bratty noisemaker in silk (He likes Jaskier! It's just... Not what he saw Geralt going for.) Jaskier tries to talk to Geralt about it, but Geralt stops him from even walking close to him, and walks farther off as extra salt in the wound. It's like he can't even bear to be around Jaskier. It hurts a bit. Jaskier asks Eskel if Geralt took different potions or has a toxin of some sort i him that makes him behave like this instead of the normal, and then explains everything Lambert told him. Eskel agrees that it sounds like him just being comforted by the feeling of his mate safe and sound next to him, and that they've never seen Geralt like that. Jaskier is confused, because surely Geralt doesn't feel the same way, right? sURPRISE SECOND ATTACK! THE MONSTER RETURNS! OH NOOOOO Anyways, It slashes the shit out of Jaskier's arm, or perhaps chest, I don't know, whichever wound strikes your fancy, and the witchers go after it, but as soon as the beast is killed, Geralt rushes to Jaskier, and holds him close. The others try to walk over to help patch Jaskier up only to get growled at by their own brother. So now Lambert and Eskel are playing rock paper scissors on the ground over who REALLY got the final hit on the beast while Geralt sits 12 feet away from them, mending his bard. He growls at them if they look at Jaskier and him too long. A while later, he's off the high of the potions and adrenaline combined, and the witchers sure are going to have a field day lovingly making fun of their brother over this. But first, Jaskier and Geralt need to have a heartfelt talk. ♡!Optional addons!♡

• Big bonus points for a sequel or additional chapter of Lambert starting to act the same way over Aiden (or other ship of your choice, but Lambert and Aiden are my bread and butter lol)

#fanfiction prompts #geralt x jaskier #geralt x dandelion #geraskier #witcher fanfiction #the witcher #geralt loves his bard!#writing prompts #requited unrequited love #friends to lovers #Witcher Cuteagens (Cute mutagens)#this is a long one #story prompts #writing ideas #plot bunny

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yeraskier · 2 years

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five times everyone questions jaskier's sanity, and the time jaskier realizes he was (sort of) right all along. [inspired by yesterday's events... you know the one]

also on ao3

Geralt looks… different. Very different. Like his entire fucking face has changed different.

He looked just like himself at supper last night, but now it’s morning, and suddenly, he looks nothing like himself. It doesn’t even make any sense. Jaskier briefly considers that maybe he had a bit too much ale the night before, but he’s drunk more than he did last night and this has never been the result.

Geralt definitely looks different. Very different. Like a whole new face different. He looks a bit taller, too, which is completely unfair.

Jaskier eyes him suspiciously, and he’s probably completely losing it, but even the man’s Adam’s apple looks different when he swallows. Gods.

He doesn’t realize he’s reached out until the tip of his index finger makes contact with Geralt’s cheek. The witcher freezes, spoon stopping midway to his mouth before he slowly turns his head.

Jaskier pokes his cheek again, and then his jaw, and then his nose.

“What happened to your face?” He asks, sliding in closer to inspect. He pokes one of Geralt’s cheekbones, twice. Three times, for good measure.

“Do that again,” Geralt growls in a way that tells the bard he most definitely should not do that again.

Jaskier drops his hand.

—

“Has anyone else noticed that something's wrong with Geralt's face?”

Ciri lifts her head from the book she’s been scribbling in as Yennefer eyes him skeptically through the mirror she’s facing.

“What are you on about now, Jaskier?”

“Geralt. His face. It’s different,” he says, stepping further into the room. “And so is his physique.”

Yennefer arches a perfectly done brow at him.

“Not that I’ve been paying, or have ever paid any attention to his physique or anything,” he amends quickly, “because I don’t…”

Ciri’s snicker covers up a muttered, “right,” which Jaskier pretends to not notice.

Yennefer sighs as she turns to face him, “Geralt is fine. He looks the same as he did yesterday, and the day before, and last week, and the week before. He looks the same as he’s looked for decades. It comes with being a witcher.”

“But—”

“Geralt is fine,” she says with a level of finality that lets Jaskier know he is not winning this argument, “and you’re an imbecile.”

—

Jaskier’s not going crazy, okay? No matter what anyone says (fuck you very much, Lambert!) he is not going crazy.

The man still walks like Geralt, and talks like Geralt, and acts like Geralt, and knows things that only Geralt would know (like the fact that Jaskier has also needed chamomile rubbed on his bum… more than once), so it must be Geralt, except for the fact that looks nothing like Geralt.

“Do you really not see a difference?”

Ciri groans from beside him, clearly irritated at her reading being disturbed. Oh well, she’ll have plenty of other chances to read during their little hiatus. “No, Jaskier, I do not see a difference.”

The bard sighs as he watches Geralt, or whoever the fuck that is, from across the library. It’s all he’s been able to do for the last three days, which, well… isn’t new since watching Geralt has become one of his favorite past times over the last decade or so, but that’s how Jaskier knows he isn’t going crazy. Something is different.

Jaskier has spent hours on hours taking in the man’s defined jaw, and his expressive brows, and his pouty lips. He’s spent so much time trying to depict the specific shade of yellow in Geralt’s eyes, and the curl pattern of his hair, and how long it takes his stubble to grow back after it’s been shaved. He’s spent far too long picking up on every little detail to be told that nothing about the man has changed, because so much has changed.

“How could you not see the difference? Everything about him is different! I mean look at the shape of his face!” Jaskier exclaims, waving his hand wildly in Geralt’s general direction. “And look at his nose! Gods, look at that nose!”

Ciri blinks at him once. Then, again. She doesn’t blink for three beats and then, she blinks again.

“Look!”

She does look this time, and she even squints. Jaskier waits, watching her, mentally begging for that realization to dawn over her.

Her lips do a thing where they press together and push upward, almost like a frown. “I think you’re right,” she tells him.

Jaskier’s eyes widen, posture straightening in alert.

“His skin looks much more vibrant, I think that new soap Yen got him is working.”

His eyes narrow into slits, and Ciri turns to him with a cheeky grin.

“Very nice, Ciri,” he drawls, “very nice.”

Jaskier huffs as he slumps back in his seat, turning his attention back to Geralt.

She’s right, though, his skin does look more vibrant.

—

“Triss, you’ve got to believe me,” Jaskier whines.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Jaskier,” she says, “but I just saw Geralt, and he looked fine, same as he’s looked the last ten times I’ve seen him since I got here.” She continues her journey down the hall, and Jaskier is truly surprised by how fast the woman walks.

“But he isn’t! He isn’t himself, Triss, I swear, and I’m the only one who realizes!”

Triss comes to such an abrupt stop that Jaskier almost crashes into her. When she turns around, her head rolls, along with her eyes. She looks as exasperated as Jaskier feels.

“Suppose Geralt’s face somehow did change, how would that have happened, Jaskier? Explain that to me.”

“Well, I don’t know how exactly, but it must have been the work of a mage. Or maybe one of his potions!”

Triss levels him with a flat look. “A potion? Really? Right, because witchers are running around making potions that can help them shapeshift.”

And when it’s put like that, Jaskier realizes how insane he sounds. “That doesn’t rule out the possibility of a mage!”

“You guys have been in Kaer Morhen for weeks now. Just you, Ciri, Yen, a bunch of witchers, and now, me. And last I checked, Yennefer warded this place so well Melitele herself could strike this area right now and everyone here would remain untouched.” She’s talking with her hands, something she does when she’s at her wit's end, something she does when she’s refraining from turning the person she’s talking to into a toad. “That, alongside the protections that were already set up, means that the possibility that any mage could waltz in here uninvited, or even come close enough to this place, to cast some face-changing curse on Geralt is absolutely zero.”

“Yes, but—”

“You need rest, Jaskier. You’re starting to sound diabolical.”

With that, she turns on her heels and leaves him in the hallway.

—

“So… you and Geralt have known each other for quite some time now, huh?”

Vesemir looks unimpressed.

It’s an expression he’s becoming quite familiar with.

Jaskier flashes his most charming smile, “have you by any chance noticed any changes in his appearance?”

Dead silence. Great.

“Anything at all?” He presses on hopefully.

The witcher’s expression goes from unimpressed to murderous.

Jaskier has never bolted from a room so fast in his entire life.

—

Jaskier knows this isn’t really the smartest plan he’s ever had, it’s probably in the top five of the dumbest, actually.

He doesn’t know what he has to gain from watching Geralt sleep, but it’s better than just sitting back and waiting for answers to come to him. And alright, he’ll be the first to admit that it’s kind of (really!) fucking creepy, but Jaskier has to get to the bottom of this. So, watching Geralt sleep has to hold some kind of answer.

Many years of sleeping alongside the witcher have taught him how to maneuver without waking the man up, he’s grateful for that now in a way that he’s never been before.

Despite what many may believe, Geralt’s quite the peaceful sleeper. He barely moves, he breathes softly, his face remains soft and pliant— he sleeps like… well, an angel. Even with this brand-new face, all of these little things still exist.

There’s always a certain level of alertness, though, something Jaskier realized early on, but that seems to be nearly nonexistent tonight. It must be Kaer Morhen. Geralt’s at peace here. It’s probably one of the few places, if not the only place, where he truly feels safe. The thought makes Jaskier’s heart melt.

For the second time this week, he finds himself reaching out almost involuntarily. The back of his fingers run along the side of Geralt’s face, and the witcher releases a hardly audible sigh. Jaskier smiles, allowing his fingers to wander a bit, lightly tracing the lines of Geralt’s face, both sharp and smooth.

Geralt’s nose twitches, and Jaskier taps a finger to it. Definitely number one on the list of the dumbest things he’s ever done.

The witcher startles awake, sitting up so fast he nearly headbutts Jaskier. He probably would’ve had the man not fallen off the bed, and flat onto his ass onto the cold, hard ground.

“Ow,” Jaskier groans.

“Jaskier?” And oh, fuck, that sleep-worn voice always did things to him, and right now is not the best time for any of those things to be happening.

Geralt’s eyes zero in on him, and Jaskier offers a weak smile and a wave.

“What the fuck are you doing, Jaskier?”

“Trying to figure out what happened to your face,” he responds, and it comes off as more of a question than an answer

Even in the dark, Jaskier can feel Geralt glaring at him. Then, the witcher lights up the candles beside his bed, and Jaskier can see Geralt glaring at him.

“This again?”

“Yes, this again.” Jaskier hisses defensively, dusting his buttocks off as he rises to his feet. “There is something incredibly wrong with your face, and no one else sees it, but I do.”

“Jaskier—”

“No! I’m being serious right now, Geralt. Your face has changed, alright? It’s completely changed, and I don’t know why I’m the only one who has realized but—”

“Wait—”

“I’m starting to feel kind of crazy over here, and I—”

“I think I know what’s going on. Yen—”

“...don’t understand how everyone else can just—”

“Jaskier, you’re not listening.” Geralt’s standing, now, and he’s all up in Jaskier’s space the same way Jaskier was in his mere minutes ago. And he’s shirtless, which is very, very distracting.

But not distracting enough, Jaskier is on a mission here, Godsdamnit.

“No, you’re not listening. Your fucking face—”

“My face is fine. Yennefer—”

“Your face is not fine, Geralt. I mean, it’s not like you look like a gremlin or anything, but—”

“Yen, she—”

“You’re still beautiful—”

“Yennefer is fucking with you, Jaskier.”

“I don’t think any curse could ever make you less beautiful—” Wait.

“Wait.” That was Geralt’s voice, as if he’d read Jaskier’s mind.

“Yennefer’s fucking with me?!” Jaskier exclaims at the same time Geralt says, almost breathlessly, “you think I’m beautiful?”

“Huh?” The bard answers dumbly, “what? Yes, of course, I think you’re beautiful. Woo-hoo, this isn’t news to anyone. Now, what do you mean Yennefer’s fucking with me?”

Geralt doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything. He just stares. He stares for so long that Jaskier starts thinking that maybe Geralt’s the one fucking with him.

“Hello?” Jaskier snaps a few times. “Continent to Geralt?”

The witcher seems to blink out of it and huffs a laugh.

“Remember last week when you replaced the soap Yennefer uses for her hair with an ink of sorts?”

Yes, Jaskier does remember. Vividly. It’s one of the best pranks he’s pulled on the sorceress since they started their little game. “And it turned her hair red.”

Geralt hums in confirmation, “well, you know Yennefer. She said she’d do something about it. I didn’t know what, but… seems like it was this. She casted a beholder spell on you.”

“A what?”

“It’s a spell that makes whoever it’s put upon see whatever the caster wants them to see. In this case, it was… my face.”

Jaskier gasps. “That witch.” She’s a genius. Evil, but a fucking genius. “Do you know how long until it wears off?”

“How long did it take Yen to get her hair back to black?”

“Five, maybe six days.”

“That’s probably your answer.”

Jaskier groans. Knowing Yennefer, it’s probably double that. “Gods.”

Geralt hums, thoughtfully. And then, “so…”

Jaskier doesn’t know where this is headed, but he doesn’t like it.

“About you thinking I’m beautiful…”

He gulps. Right. “I said that, did I?”

The witcher takes a step forward, and it was a big step, and there wasn’t that much space in between them, to begin with, so that single step has them toe-to-toe. “You did.”

“Well, everyone thinks you’re beautiful,” Jaskier grins, nudging him as he tries to play it off.

Geralt tips his head to the side with a slight furrow in his brows, “not everyone.”

“Everyone who isn’t an idiot, I mean,” says the bard, “or a jealous prick, or a prejudiced waste of space. You’re beautiful, it’s hard to look at you and not see that. Most people see that, it’s not just me, ask anyone in this keep. I may not have had anyone on my side about your face looking different, but they all agree about your face being beautiful trust m—”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing that thing you do when you get nervous.” Geralt smirks when he says it, the prick.

“What thing?”

“The rambling thing.”

“I’m always rambling,” Jaskier tells him, “and I know this because you’re always telling me to shut up.”

“No, you’re always talking,” Geralt corrects, “and when you talk, it’s controlled. Whereas when you ramble, it’s hardly coherent because you’re going a mile a minute. You only do that when you’re nervous.”

Fuck.

Geralt leans in closer, lips stretching even further, “am I making you nervous, Jaskier?”

Fuck.

“I—”

Gods, they’re so close. They’re so close, and they’re only getting closer because Geralt is still leaning in like he’s going to—

“Stop.”

They’re not close anymore. Geralt is suddenly several feet away from him. He no longer looks smug, he looks confused, and… small.

“I know where that was headed,” Jaskier begins, licking at his lips and realizing how dry they’d gotten from Geralt trying (and succeeding!) to seduce him, “and trust me when I say I am on board, like all the way on board.”

Geralt cocks a brow, as if to say, then why aren’t we already naked?

“But, I want my first kiss with you to be with you.” At the witcher looking confused again, he continues, “I know it’s you, but I want you to look like yourself.”

The witcher sighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been irritated by Yennefer more than I am at this moment.”

“I feel your irritation, believe me,” says Jaskier, “and I promise once this wears off I’m all yours, but in the meantime… we can still sleep together in a completely clothes-on kind of way.”

Geralt smiles.

And that’s how the two end up spending the rest of the night cuddling while plotting how Jaskier’s going to get Yennefer back.

—

The spell wears off a day later, and by the time Jaskier emerges from Geralt’s room the following day, he forgets what he was getting Yennefer back for in the first place.

He ends up baking her a chocolate cake as a thank you, with the words THANK YOU, THE SEX WAS GREAT on it.

The look of mortification when she sees it is priceless. Unintended, but priceless.

As it turns out, the best revenge is a bit of kindness.

#naturally.... a fic is the only answer to this #im still in mourning okay #the ending couldve went many ways but this is what my tired brain came up with at 1 in the morning and i still liked it while editing it so #there you have it #yennefer because of course it was yennefer #and because i refuse to make a liam hemsworth geralt EVER #even after s4 has aired it will always be henry #sorry lili #i wish i knew how to make my humor/fluffy fics artful but i unfortunately only know how to do that with angst #im sorry #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my writing #geraskier #yennefer of vengerberg #princess cirilla

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cherryjuicegf · 2 years

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"You've been crying."

Jaskier laughs as Geralt sits beside him on the pebbles and raises his eyebrows, not looking at him still. "Now you can tell the salt of tears from that of the sea too?"

A light hum. "Always could."

A red ray escapes the setting sun and hits the waves, making the tears in his eyes melt as they mirror it. He sniffles and wipes at the trails his previous crying had pathed on his cheeks, and puts on a brave smile. Not really a smile. A curve of lips, at least, because Geralt is here now, the warmth of his body resembling a lit hearth, and it's a kind of comfort. Always has been.

Except. Geralt is staring at him.

Geralt is waiting.

And it's nothing, it really is. Jaskier likes to convince himself it is trivial, because how else could he mend a broken heart, if not with lies. The truth just seems too far out of reach.

But maybe now he is tired. And maybe in another time he wouldn't talk about it, he would only smile wider but now Geralt's stare is so gentle, and his eyes so safe like the sun on a spring's day.

"I feel like I've been missing, you know," he says at last and looks at him straight, soft, because Geralt really does know. "On love. And it's been too long."

What Geralt doesn't know, perhaps, is the way his heart clenches inside his chest and curls on itself like a child punished in the corner. So he frowns. "You? Jaskier, you can have anyone you want. I've seen you." Then, a smile, almost fond. "You fall in love with everyone."

Everyone, everyone. Anyone. Anyone there is. Anyone who looks like maybe, maybe, they will stay, or he is just too careless at this point that he tries anyway. A heart that never has too much. He knows they won't stay. And he knows the one who will stays for a different reason. So, so close.

He smiles, bittersweet, and lowers his look. "Yes, indeed. Everyone." Everyone, she sent a letter today. Never to meet again, never to be seen. Jaskier shakes his head. "And me? Who of all them has fallen in love with me, Geralt?" As if to answer his question, a seabird cries along. The sea, too, a cruel mistress. His voice quivers. "I feel like a desperate dog chasing love, while running from it all the same."

With the corner of his eye he sees Geralt parting his lips and a fake hope blooms in his chest, fading at once when he holds back, and stays silent. And he can only bask in the imagined possibility of what he intended to say.

The tears are done with him now. Only numbness remains.

Eventually, Geralt speaks. "If it is any helpful, no one has ever been in love with me either." The lightness in his voice sounds exactly like the pained strings mending Jaskier’s heart.

But oh, what a foolish man. Jaskier can't help but smile and turn at him, and for a bit he remembers that lonely as it is, he can't stop loving. "Well, that's just not true. I'm in love with you."

As though he doesn't know, as though it's not as simple as it was uttered, Geralt flinches. Jaskier chuckles and averts his gaze again, a little happier than before. Love, it is simple. It's what he does.

Just not something that happens to him.

"Well, then," he hears after some moments, "that makes us even."

He laughs before he thinks. "It does?" And then.

His head spins at once, eyes wide as they meet Geralt's, almost afraid. No, not afraid. Unbelieving. It's been so long, you see. But Geralt only rolls his eyes, oh so fondly, and before Jaskier manages to splutter any words sweet lips are on his, and a hand holding his nape. And it's not like other times. Not like everyone else. It's certain and terrifying and deep like a promise, like two stray roots finding each other through the earth and keeping their living hearts bound forever. Like what he has been craving for so long he forgot he may one day have it. Like Geralt.

And then, as though to seal it, this promise, Geralt pulls back and looks at him like he always does and Jaskier wonders, wonders how this that he never caught stands right here, catching itself. Geralt smiles, voice soft as a feather. "I'm in love with you, Jaskier." And that's it. Simple as that.

His eyes are burning again and Jaskier can only nod, and smile back. And it's almost funny, almost tender how love happens to be so close, so close he can taste its kiss without even trying, just for once.

Just for once, how love happens to him.

#pots and pans i think love is something that happens to other people by michael gray sobbing weeping #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #chrysa writes #i'm as surprised as you are friends #fic recs #fluff #anyway how about this. loving the unloved

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redskull199987 · 11 months

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Of Thoughts and Actions

Jaskier x fem!reader word count:0.9k Warnings:spoilers for season 3, apart from that just fluff Summary: You didn't see your friend Jaskier for a long time, since he split up from your group after the events at Kaer Morhen. So, when Geralt suggested that you ask the bard for help, you were more than happy to see your singing friend again… Masterlist

You watched the scene in front of you unfold with a smile on your face. Jaskier´s sweet voice was slowly lulling Ciri to sleep, after you had spent the evening playing cards against each other. Jaskier, of course, had lost all of his money to the young girl. Finally seeing her smiling again, having fun again, after all she's been through lately, made you feel like it was still worth fighting for. For Ciri, and her future. “What are you thinking about?”

Your head shot up, as Jaskier suddenly stood in front of you, his slender frame towering above you. “Just thinking about our journey so far”, You mumbled, as you slowly stood up, starting to gather the plates at cups from the small table you had been playing cards at, until a few minutes ago. “Anything in particular?”, Jaskier smiled, as he helped you clean up, picking up a plate. “Oh, maybe the one time, Geralt and I saved your ass?”, you chuckled, playfully hitting his arm. Jaskier mockingly opened his mouth, acting like he was utterly shocked by your words.

“Fine then”, he mumbled, stepping closer to me,”Remember when I taught you how to dance, that one particular evening where you had too much ale?”

You felt your cheeks redden, as you remembered how much of a fool you had made yourself. even Geralt had laughed at your sloppy dance moves, and Geralt never laughed, ever.

Jaskier had seemed to notice your discomfort and slowly stepped closer. He looked down at you for a second, before carefully grabbing your hands. “You know, I always thought you were the most beautiful Dancer, I had ever seen in my life.”, he smiled, causing you to blush even more. Since when were you so easily flushed? You were a great fighter, that had been through many battles along with your companions. But now you were a blushing mess in front of the smiling bard. When you didn't say anything in return, Jaskier just continued to recount the story:”Not because you were the best at dancing or the most experienced, but because you enjoyed yourself. You were having fun to no end, just being yourself. That's what I´ve always loved about you, Y/N.” You were speechless at this point. You always knew that what you felt for Jaskier was different than what you felt for Yennefer or Geralt. It was more than friendship. But you never believed that he was feeling the same way, in fact you still didn't believe it.

Against all your better judgement, you slowly pulled your hands away from Jaskier and excused yourself, saying that you needed some fresh air. And within seconds, you had left the small hut, stepping out into the night.

Taking in a deep breath, you looked up admiring the stars that glistened in the sky. Upon seeing your breath come out in small huffs, you realised how cold it was. You slowly started walking around a bit to conjure some warmth, but it had no effort. After two laps around the hutt, you were still shivering. You debated going back inside for a second, but you didn't quite know if you were ready to talk to Jaskier again.

The decision was made for you, as you felt how Jaskier´s coat was being wrapped around you. The purple material easily engulfed your form, preventing you from shivering. You turned your head to see said bard standing behind you, one of his hands was resting on the small of your back, as he wrapped the coat further around your form. “Thank you.”, you mumbled, looking back down. “You seemed cold”, he smiled, now stepping in front of you. His hands came up to adjust the collar around you. You felt his touch linger, as his bright eyes shifted towards your face. “Y/N”, he suddenly said. His hand rose to gently caress your cheek. Slowly leaning into his touch, you listened to his shallow breathing to calm yourself down.

“Jaskier.”, you finally said, looking up at him. He only sighed, seemingly not really knowing what to say:”I-I havent been honest with you,Y/N” “About what?”, you uttered quietly. He didn't say anything for a second, just staring at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I really want to kiss you.”, he suddenly blurted out. You only smiled at him:”then do it.”

It only took Jaskier mere seconds to press his lips to yours. You felt his hands pulling you closer by the waist, as he deepened the kiss, his lips softly working against yours. Only as you parted, you actually realised what had just happened. Yours eyes widened, as you looked at his dreamy face. “I've wanted to do that for ages”, he admitted. A smile crossed your lips at his words:”I´m glad that you finally did.” “Oh I could kiss you again a thousand times, my love”, he chuckled, slightly squeezing your waist. “I wouldn't have a problem with that”, you whispered, before connecting your lips with his once more. Bonus: Ciri´s eyes slowly fluttered open, as the soft sunlight hit her face. Upon sitting up in her bed, she started to look around the room in search for her two friends. She expected them to be in their separate beds, still sleeping but Ciri couldn't help but to smile at what she saw in front of her. Right there, just a few metres away from her, you and Jaskier were huddled up together in the tiny bed. She could barely see your smaller form, as Jaskier was laying on top of you, his head resting on your chest. “I knew it”, she mumbled to herself, before slowly getting up to get ready for the day.

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artistsfuneral · 1 year

Text

part 15 - sorry it took a while

When he turns, Geralt is standing right behind him, golden eyes wide with something like shock as he rings for words. "Ciri. Her name is Ciri."

Jaskier gasps, a frsh wave of tears falling from his eyes, "What- ?" Once again it's all too much for him. The constant mix of hurt, pain and confusing hope makes his head feel weird and fuzzy. He just wants his husband back. His Geralt, his sweet lovely Geralt, who always says he cannot bear to see Jaskier in distress, who panics when he cries, who hugs him, holds him, tells him he's safe and that everything will be alright. He misses him so, so much. Never- never having that again, never having his Geralt again, makes him-

He tears his wrist out of this Geralt's grip and wipes away the salty tears that just won't stop streaming down his cheeks. "What?" He repeats again, more stammering than actually pronouncing the word.

Geralt isn't doing much better. "I uh-," he looks just as helplessly shocked as Jaskier feels, "I don't know, why I- Her name is Ciri, isn't it?" Jaskier nods, hiding his face behind his hands for a moment. He has no idea what on earth is going on. This has never happened before. At this point in time, Ciri shouldn't even be a thought and yet somehow Geralt knows her name. "She likes to dance," the witcher speaks slowly as if trying to piece something together in his mind. "She made Lambert slow dance with her. I- I don't know-," he lets out a long shaky breath. "Why do I know that?"

Jaskier shakes his head. "I don't know," he whispers, voice hoarse from his emotional outburst. "You never remembered anything before."

Geralt frowns. "How many times have you done this?"

"I don't know."

"Have you done anything differently this time? Said something, or done something? Playing around with Chaos is a terribly stupid idea!"

"I'm not stupid, okay?! Just because I have no idea why you can suddenly remember Ciri's name doesn't mean I jumped heads over heels into this mess!"

Geralt sighs again, looking at least somewhat remorseful as he apologizes quietly. "It just feels like you must've done something differently for me to... remember these things.

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#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia

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podcastenthusiast · 2 years

Text

Three little drabbles featuring Geralt "Horse Girl" of Rivia and different animals, from Jaskier's POV.

---

1. Horse

Jaskier realized it a few weeks into this new witcher-following, song-composing venture. Specifically, when he went to eat the last apple and was told in no uncertain terms that it's for Roach, even though their food rations were running worringly low and they were a day's ride from the next village. Even though he's a fragile human. Even though she could literally just eat grass.

The mare outranked him. She had seniority.

He tried to befriend the horse, with middling success.

He tried to befriend the witcher, too.

At least Roach could be bribed with a carrot or a handful of raisins.

People project a lot of their own feelings onto animals, he supposed. It's a relationship designed to be unequal. As complex or as simple as a person wants it to be.

For a while, he had started to resent her a little, as pathetic as that may sound. That is, until he woke in the middle of the night and overheard a murmured, rather one-sided conversation.

"I worry about him, though," Geralt was saying. "Can't exactly just find a new bard and start calling him Jaskier if something happens, can I."

What?

"Wish he'd shut up sometimes, but... I guess it's been kind of nice having someone around who talks back."

Jaskier's heart felt like it might burst or break. Or both.

"Not that you aren't good company, old girl."

Roach gave a quiet snort.

That was all years ago, now. The horse is different, but still somehow Roach.

He is different, too, but somehow still Jaskier. Still the reliable bard his friend needs him to be.

Now, he watches from his spot by the campfire as Geralt brushes through Roach's mane. The witcher's got drowner brains in his own hair but gods forbid he has a wash before his trusty companion is completely tended to. He's very gentle with her, which is probably why she tolerates it as well as she does. He's heard tales of stablehands losing fingers to routine grooming before.

Jaskier wishes he could write a ballad about this without potentially damaging his fearsome reputation-- the unbreakable bond between a witcher and his horse. The unexpected tenderness of hands made to kill.

He reaches for his quill to jot down a few ideas. Something something the mighty wolf and the wild horse, loyal and brave companions defending their forest home together. Keep it vague enough. Maybe a folktale vibe.

Besides, Jaskier thinks with a touch of bitterness, the wolf's tongue is the real danger. His jaws that snap at anyone foolish enough to get too close, to offer help when he's caught in a trap.

...Maybe he still has some feelings to work through.

The wolf also has a heart he tries so hard to bury. Jaskier can see it. Always has.

"You spoil her rotten, you know," he remarks lightly, plucking on his lute strings. "She eats better than we do."

"It's like sharpening my swords. I have to keep Roach in good condition, or we don't eat at all."

"Mhm. And it's very sweet."

He no longer begrudges Roach her well-earned place at Geralt's side. The witcher had been alone out here for such a long time before he came along, probably will be again after he's dead and buried. Even if Jaskier does wish that he could be the one Geralt trusts with his innermost thoughts and secrets and sleepless night fears, he is glad the man has someone in whom he can confide.

They all have their roles in this story. Perhaps he ought to accept his as its scribe, and let that be enough.

But Jaskier's greatest fault, he knows, is an always has been his refusal to accept things as they are.

2. Cat

"Oh, look at that. Someone's cat has gone missing. Poor thing."

"We're here for real work, Jaskier," Geralt says, scanning a contract notice. Recent plague. Graves disturbed. Ghouls. See alderman for details. Bit dull.

"They're offering a reward. See?"

"Somehow I doubt a small child has enough coin to justify ignoring the ghouls."

"Says here you'll get their eternal gratitude and-- oh! The lady of the house will darn your socks free of charge for a full year. Any additional mending at a discount. Now that's a good deal."

"Hm."

"Geralt, as you know my favorite doublet is in a sorry state after that minor werewolf incident--"

"I told you to stay with Roach."

"--All water under the bridge now, of course, and what an adventure! Worthy of a fine ballad--"

"Jaskier."

"--as this would be. Can't you at least keep one keen witchery eye out for the cat?"

"And risk a ghoul catching me off guard? Sure."

"Well, now you're just being silly. Don't tell me you're a dog person. Or are you allergic?"

Geralt sighs, realizing now that only the truth will free him from this conversation.

"Don't mind cats," he mutters. "But they don't like me."

"Sorry, what?"

"Cats don't like me," he repeats. "They start hissing whenever I get too close."

Jaskier's expression is caught somewhere between disbelief and sadness. "Why?"

"I insulted their king. Why do you think? They've got more sense than certain humans, I guess."

It's a veiled remark. Jaskier sees right through it.

"You're not a monster, Geralt," he says, achingly sincere. Then, in a lighter tone, "Does that mean you've never pet a cat before?"

"I don't know. Maybe when I was very young. I can't remember."

Jaskier mercifully drops the subject after a quiet and thoughtful walk back to the village's tavern.

He doesn't fail to notice Geralt buying extra scraps of meat from the innkeeper, or how he sneaks away at night to set them like snares in promising locations near the village. He'd probably say it's for the ghoul contract if asked, but Jaskier knows better.

Even if he didn't, there is really no other explanation for Geralt returning to the inn on the second night, covered in claw marks, carrying a ghoul's severed head in one hand and a bag containing one squirming, hissing feline in the other.

3. Spider

"GERALT!"

Every witcher in Kaer Morhen hears the bard's scream, but Geralt reaches the room in moments, his silver sword already drawn.

"Jaskier, what--"

"Kill it!"

The bard is standing on his bed, pointing frantically at something. Geralt follows his panicked gaze and sees--

"Really, Jaskier?" He sighs.

"What are you waiting for? It's a monster! Kill it!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not a monster. Just a spider. Not even poisonous."

"How do you know?"

"I read." Geralt crouches down for a closer look at the spider. "Might look scary but it's harmless. Probably sought shelter from the cold."

"Well, then it can go right back outside."

"Jaskier, be reasonable."

"I am. Either the spider goes or I do."

The witcher looks thoughtful. Says nothing.

"Oh, thanks, Geralt! I feel so loved."

The spider crawls onto Geralt's hand and Jaskier almost screams again, shrinking back even farther. Gods, it has so many legs!

"Pretend it's a kikimora or something," he pleads. "Why won't you kill one little spider for your very dearest old friend in the world?"

"Because kikimoras have no niche. They're invasive, and need to be dealt with to maintain balance in the ecosystem. Spiders aren't like that; they do belong. A monster, fundamentally, is any creature that doesn't."

Jaskier just stares at him, speechless. He's not sure he has ever heard Geralt say that many words all at once.

Geralt's eyes remain on the spider. "Witchers aren't sent out on the Path not knowing why we kill; we're not soldiers."

"I never thought of it like that," Jaskier admits. "That spider's still fucking terrifying, though."

"Hm. I'll take it outside."

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"I know what scared, stupid people say about witchers sometimes. But I-- You do belong. You're important. Just want you to know that."

"...Thank you, Jaskier," he says. Then, quieter, "You too."

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #geraskier fic #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher fic #I'm sad i can't pet cats in witcher 3 okay #horse girl geralt

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bambirex · 11 months

Text

Tell It With Your Heart

Pairing: Geraskier

Characters: Jaskier/Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia

Additional tags: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, acts of kindness, soft Geralt of Rivia, soft Jaskier/Dandelion, getting together, domestic fluff, friends to lovers

Word count: 2,504

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: While Jaskier always says what's on his mind, Geralt works a little differently. That doesn't mean he cannot tell Jaskier how he feels - he just does that without words.

Author's notes: for @wren-of-the-woods!! Wren, dear, we've talked so much about the different love languages the Witcher characters would have, and we both agreed Geralt's would be acts of service, so I had to gift this to you! I hope you'll like it, thank you so much for brainstorming with me ❤️

It's really nice finally being back with some fluff! There's a scene that might be familiar to some as it's directly taken from the Spirit cartoon hehe

Read on Ao3

Geralt wasn't a man of many words, Jaskier was well aware of that. For the first few months that they've spent traveling together, Jaskier was mostly met with grunts and an awful lot of "hm"s, and if Geralt has graced him with a sentence consisting of more than three words, Jaskier was practically over the moon.

It wasn't because he was dumb as many people believed witchers to be: Geralt was very intelligent, he was just simply very closed-off. He had many walls pulled up around his heart, protecting him from the harshness of the world. Armor on his body and on his soul, Jaskier mused about it one day.

It took a while for Jaskier to understand Geralt. The bard was very talkative, has been that way all his life: he's talked his way out of the worst situations, has seduced his lovers with his kind words, and has made himself a name with his poetry. For him, it was hard to imagine there were ways to talk without using words, until he met Geralt.

That was why he needed some time to put the pieces together after the first time Geralt has returned with two rabbits dangling over his shoulders one day.

It was a couple of months after Jaskier's joined Geralt on the path. Money was scarce, and so the food was too, and Jaskier may have complained a little about being hungry. Geralt has growled at him that if he wanted to eat, he was more than welcome to go and find food for himself. Jaskier decided it was wiser if he didn't do that on his own.

When Geralt told him to stay in one place while he disappeared into the woods, Jaskier was sure Geralt has left him behind. He cursed himself for being so stupid to whine about being hungry while he knew right well that Geralt was working his ass off trying to gather enough for the both of them. Now he really did it, he annoyed Geralt to the point that he wouldn't come back for him.

But Geralt returned, with one tiny, scrawny rabbit and a large, fat one. He did not say a single word, he just sat down on a tree trunk and started skinning them. Jaskier stood there confused, anxiously rubbing his fingers together while Geralt got to cooking the meat.

Once he was done, he handed Jaskier the much bigger rabbit. It smelled deliciously, and Jaskier noticed that Geralt cooked his rabbit so much better than his own, Jaskier's meat being pink and juicy, while Geralt's looking bony and half raw.

"We can share mine, I won't be able to eat all of this anyway," Jaskier offered. Geralt shook his head, not even looking up as he started tearing at his own food.

"You need it more than me," was all he said. Jaskier tried a couple more times, but Geralt refused his offer.

"Thank you," Jaskier said softly when they were done eating. His stomach was full, and he felt warm and comfortable. Maybe it was the post-lunch daze that made him see things that weren't there, but it seemed like Geralt looked satisfied as he watched Jaskier rest a hand on his full belly.

The night was cold, possibly the coldest all winter. They were refused from every single inn. Things seemed more hopeless than ever, and the night was slowly creeping up on them. Jaskier pulled his furs tighter around his body, his teeth chattering loudly as they wandered around, trying to find a place to rest.

They eventually found a tiny stable. It was an old, ragged building, not very warm and the hay was dusty and dry, but it was better than nothing.

Geralt placed both their blankets over the hay, then gestured at Jaskier to lie down on them. Jaskier raised an eyebrow in question.

"What about you?"

"Lie down, Jaskier."

Jaskier did, but his confusion remained as Geralt took his own fur off and laid it over him.

"Geralt, you're going to be cold," Jaskier protested. He tried to hand the fur back, but Geralt threw it back at him.

"Burrow in," Geralt said. He leaned down and wrapped the furs around Jaskier as tight as he could, cocooning him until he was as warm as he could be. "It's only going to get colder. I'll be okay."

"Geralt," Jaskier sighed, "please. I don't want you to freeze to death. At least... come a little closer, then?"

Jaskier could swear he saw a hint of a blush on Geralt's cheeks. The witcher hesitated for a moment before he lay next to Jaskier, shifting close enough that their sides touched.

It was the best sleep Jaskier has gotten in weeks. He felt safe and warm against Geralt's side, who seemed to have shifted even closer to him during the night. Jaskier didn't mind, not even a little bit.

"Oh, this is really pretty," Jaskier sighed dreamily, "very lovely."

"It would look marvelous on you," the vendor mused as he held up the necklace for Jaskier. The thin golden chain glimmered in the candlelight. The medallion, forming a tiny bird, dangled off the vendor's hand.

"That's so kind of you to say, but it's a bit expensive," Jaskier sighed. He fell in love with that necklace the second he's laid his eyes on it, but they weren't here to buy jewelry with the small amount of coins they had. Geralt was browsing the shelves for the necessary supplies they needed for the path. He had his back to Jaskier, but Jaskier was sure he was rolling his eyes over Jaskier's ridiculous love for pretty jewelry.

Jaskier tried not to show his disappointment when they left the shop. He stared down at his boots and bit his lip, imagining how that necklace would have looked on him.

They barely even made a few meters when Geralt abruptly turned around.

"I forgot something," he said, all but storming back in the shop.

He was back soon, holding a tiny bag in his hand. Jaskier eyed it curiously.

"What is it? Something for Roach?"

Geralt cleared his throat a little awkwardly before he squeezed out a "no". Then, he gave the bag to Jaskier.

"It's mine?"

"It's yours."

"Well, that should be interesting," Jaskier chuckled softly as he peeled the bag open. He let out a loud gasp when he saw what was inside.

"Geralt..." Jaskier whispered, his throat constricting around the words. "You shouldn't have..."

"I know you liked it," Geralt replied. He didn't look at Jaskier, instead stared at a small rock on the ground. He kicked it, watching it roll away as if it was the most interesting thing he has ever seen. "So, there."

Jaskier suddenly didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to run back to the shop and give it back, he wanted to berate Geralt for spending so much on something so useless, but he also wanted to sob and throw himself into Geralt's arms.

He did the latter, clutching Geralt so hard that the witcher let out a surprised huff. Jaskier buried his face in Geralt's neck, his eyes welling up with tears.

"I don't know why you're being so kind to me," Jaskier whispered, "you shouldn't have to do all this for me."

"I should," Geralt said. He brought up a hand and placed it onto Jaskier's back, a slightly awkward but very endearing attempt at a hug. "You're welcome."

Jaskier sat in the grass, scribbling in his notebook while Geralt sat next to him, working on his bestiary. It was a nice and comfortable way to spend time together: just being close to each other, both working on their own thing while not having to be alone. As years have passed, Jaskier has learned to appreciate these moments. He used to think of them as boring, awkward silence, but now he understood just how precious it was to be together like this.

He glanced over at Geralt. The witcher was deeply lost in his thoughts, a furrow between his brows, his face half-covered by his hair. Jaskier felt his heart flutter just looking at him.

Geralt must have sensed he was staring, because he looked up, shooting Jaskier a questioning look. Jaskier quickly looked away, redirecting his eyes upwards to the tree above them and pretending like he hasn't been staring at Geralt for the past few minutes- and the past decade, really.

He spotted a beautifully ripe apple on one of the branches above him. It was harsh red and perfectly round. Jaskier could imagine the taste of it on his tongue.

"When I was young," he started, speaking more to himself than Geralt, "I would always pick at fruits while I was working on a song. I would lie belly down on the grass, scribbling with one hand and stuffing my face with the other."

"Did it help you create better?"

"I don't know. It was a nice habit. And at least I didn't forget to eat while I was writing. I tend to do that."

"I know," there was an almost soft tone to Geralt's voice. It made Jaskier smile.

Jaskier peered up at the apple again. It sat on a high branch, and there was no way Jaskier would have reached it, even if he jumped for it. He decided he'd rather just wait until a fruit fell on the ground.

He picked up his notebook again. He didn't manage to write the next sentence down, because from the corner of his eye, he saw a quick movement that made him look up.

Jaskier's jaw dropped when he saw Geralt jumping up so high, it looked like he was practically flying. Taking good advantage of his advanced strength and reflexes, Geralt grabbed the apple from the branch before he landed again on the ground with a soft thud.

He opened his palm and showed the apple to Jaskier, making him snort.

"Way to humiliate me, Geralt," Jaskier rolled his eyes, "I'm sorry I can't fly. I didn't even know witchers could do that. Eh. Show-off."

"No," Geralt reached out again. "I got it for you."

"For me?" Jaskier whispered in awe. He stared at the apple in Geralt's hand, then up at Geralt. He blinked at him in surprise. Geralt hummed.

"Do you not want it?"

"I do," Jaskier replied. The muscles in his face ached as his lips curled into a wide smile. His heart swelled so big in his chest, he was worried it would burst. "But only if I can share it with you."

"Alright," Geralt concluded. His own lips twitched into a smile as he reached into his satchel, looking for a dagger.

Their knees touched as they sat, passing apple slices between each other. Once again, Jaskier found it hard to look at anywhere but Geralt's face, that lovely face that looked so content now, Jaskier wished he could kiss it.

The years have officially caught up to Jaskier. He wasn't old, not by any means, but he wasn't exactly young either. He started to tire out easier, his legs aching after having to walk so long. His joints often creaked and popped when he stood up, and to his absolute horror, he even noticed a gray hair at his temple.

"I don't mean to complain... well, I kind of do. I know it must be hard being a witcher but at least your lower back doesn't try to kill you if you sit a little weird for a few minutes!"

Jaskier groaned as he sunk into the water. The warmth felt heavenly for his tired bones, his cramping muscles easing up slowly as he leaned back in the tub. He rested his head against the edge, letting out a big sigh.

"And I'm only thirty-five!"

"You're thirty-eight, Jaskier."

"It's awfully rude to bring up a lady's age, Geralt!"

"You brought it up first. And you're not a lady."

"No, I'm an old man," Jaskier whined pathetically, closing his eyes. "I'm withering away."

His eyes snapped open again when he felt a touch against his shoulder. He twisted around to see Geralt standing behind the tub.

"Relax," Geralt told him. Before Jaskier could ask what he meant, Geralt pressed his thumb into a sore spot gently, making Jaskier keen in his throat.

"Heavens," he sighed, "this is incredible."

Geralt hummed, a pleased little sound. He ground the heel of his hand into the knots in the back of Jaskier's neck, drawing content little noises out of him.

Jaskier couldn't help but grin when he smelled the chamomile oil. He wanted to make a joke about the tables turning, but he could only manage a blissful moan when Geralt massaged the oil into his skin.

"You know, you do an awful lot of things for me," Jaskier pointed out. "You take care of me a lot."

"You take care of me as well."

"Yes, but it's different for you, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've been thinking," Jaskier admitted. He let out another happy sigh as Geralt rubbed over his shoulder. "I had a lot of time to do that in the past fifteen years or so. You're not very talkative. Sometimes, when you're in the right mood, you talk a bit more. But even then, not as much as me."

Jaskier could hear the grin in Geralt's voice when he said "No one can talk as much as you."

Jaskier snorted. "Alright, maybe the comparison is a little unfair. But my point is, I've told you many times that I love you. You just never seemed to hear me. And I was wondering if it was because you didn't want to hear it, or because your way of telling me is much different."

Geralt's hands stilled. Jaskier turned back, glaring up into amber eyes.

"You're doing all of this for me, buying me things, feeding me, spoiling me, because you don't know how else to tell me."

He reached for Geralt's hand. He smiled when Geralt - even though a little tentatively - laced their fingers together.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to understand your language," Jaskier said softly, "but I get it now. I mean... I get it, right? Oh, gods, it would be very awkward if I misinterpreted this and..."

He didn't get to finish his rambling as Geralt pressed their lips together, his hand still holding Jaskier's. Jaskier felt like melting into the warm water as Geralt kissed him, a little too careful for Jaskier's taste, but so perfectly like no one else could.

"Are you happy?" Geralt asked as he pulled back. Jaskier definitely didn't just imagine the flush on his cheeks this time.

"Very," Jaskier grinned. He kissed the back of Geralt's hand, holding it against his cheek for a moment. "I love you."

Geralt leaned down to kiss him again, carding his fingers through Jaskier's damp hair. Very quietly, very gently, he said the same thing against Jaskier's lips.

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

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help-help-i-need-an-adult · 1 year

Text

“Geralt, darling…”

“Hmmm”

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

“Thank you, Jaskier.”

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

“Is that so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright. I’m listening.”

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

The head

The heart

The gut

The groin

The arms

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

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

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

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

Jaskier swats his arm again.

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

“Hmm.”

“Let me give you examples.”

Jaskier seems to take a moment to think.

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

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

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

“Hmm.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“So what’s gut?”

“But you haven’t tried heart yet!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Desire. And not just lust.”

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

“Hmm. That one makes more sense.”

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

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good!”

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

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

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

Thanks @0dde11eth for telling me to write this

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

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fandom-junk-drawer · 1 year

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The Witcher Headcanon - Purring Bonus Scene - Part 2

Jaskier grew used to hearing Geralt purr. He purred when they were sitting by the campfire after a good meal. He purred when he had a quiet moment to sit in the sun. He purred when Jaskier was able to convince him to let him rub his back. He purred when he was able to soak in a hot bath after a hunt. And he purred as he lay in bed or on his bedroll, listening to Jaskier quietly work on one of his songs.

He purred when he was happy, so it confused Jaskier when the bard heard him make a sudden, short purr while they were in a crowded market. There were people everywhere, talking, laughing, haggling, and singing. Jaskier was loving all the activity and bustle. There was so much to see, and so many people to talk to.

Geralt started to get uncomfortable. There were too many f***ing people. They were too f***ing close. There was too much f***ing noise. There was just too much going on. He wanted to leave. Now. But they also needed supplies.

A man jostled him by accident, bumped by another market goer, and Geralt made a noise...

Jaskier looked at Geralt when he heard him purr suddenly. The Witcher was glaring at a man who was very quickly stammering appologies and trying to disappear into the crowd.

What the h*ll...?

That purr hadn't sounded like his regular purr. It was deep and rolling. And if Jaskier hadn't had such a good ear for sounds, he would have thought Geralt was growling or 'Hmm' ing threateningly.

Geralt had growled at people before. It was very useful as a warning to stay away, to scare most common folk away, and to express annoyance.

Jaskier had been on the receiving end of a growl several times when his chatter got on Geralt's nerves.

Geralt had been growling at people all morning. They had been bumped and jostled several times already, and Jaskier figured that Geralt was starting to reach the end of his patience.

But that purr concerned him.

He noticed the way Geralt shifted restlessly, pupils dilating slightly as he met his eye, throat working to hold back another purr. Something was wrong. Geralt never purred in public.

Jaskier switched to using Handspeak. He held one hand out, palm up, and shook it horizontally, then curled his fingers into a fist, leaving his thumb and pinky extended, then tapped the sign against his chin.

(What's wrong?)

(I want to leave.) *weird purr with visible effort to cut it off*

(Trouble?)

Geralt's movements were stiff, (No, I just...) *more weird purring* (Let's just go-!)

A man stumbled and bumped into him just then, and Jaskier saw Geralt barely keep himself under control. Geralt ugly growled but managed to keep his arms at his sides when he really wanted to shove the man across the square.

"My apologies, Master Witcher!" The man stammered, clutching his cap and backing away as Geralt gave him a severe scowl. Other people were now giving them wide berth and eyeballing them nervously.

Geralt huffed and twitched his head, signalling for the man to go. The man backed away, bobbing his head in a storm of frantic apologetic bowing that made him look like a nervous pigeon.

Jaskier lightly touched Geralt's arm, feeling him bristle, then relax. He was now looking at every movement, turning at every sound, constantly scenting the air. It clicked: Geralt was overstimmulated. It was time to go.

(Let's go back to the inn.)

*suppressed weird purr and a curt nod*

They had hurried back to the inn, Jaskier leading Geralt through the less crowded parts of the market. Geralt had gone up to their room, closed the curtains and curled up on the bed. He pulled the blanket over himself, then started purring. Geralt closed his eyes and focused on the rythmic sound of it, of the steady vibration, and let it slowly chase away the tightness in his chest.

The sound of Geralt's purring was kind of relaxing. Jaskier found it interesting that this Distressed Purr sounded different than Geralt's Happy Purr. It gave his brain an odd sensation. If he closed his eyes, the sound almost made him feel like he was rocking or swaying.

He realized that this deep, rolling purr was Geralt's way of self-soothing. He wondered if it was the equivalent of an extremely distressed human rocking themselves. The thought bothered him. How many times had Geralt done this in his years on the Path alone? How many times had laid in his bedroll, or in a bed at an inn, alone and Distress purring?

Jaskier sat on the edge of the bed, then hesitantly started rubbing Geralt's shoulder. When Geralt didn't pull away or growl at him, he slowly laid down and cuddled up against his back.

Jaskier heard the purr get a little quieter after a few minutes.

After about an hour Geralt's purr dropped off and he got up to putter around the room. He was looking a little bit better. Less like he was five seconds away from biting someone.

Jaskier let him stay in the room while he returned to the market for the rest of their supplies. Niether one of them ever mentioned the incident.

From then on, Jaskier did his best to keep an eye on Geralt when they went anywhere with crowds. He was good at reading people, and he started paying more attention to Geralt's subtle signs of discomfort. When he noticed the Witcher start getting restless, Jaskier would do whatever he needed to do to give his friend some breathing room.

Or just flat out help him get the f**k out of where ever they were so Geralt could find a quiet place to Distress purr until he felt better. Eventually, Jaskier became very good at helping Geralt completely avoid those situations without him even realizing what was happening.

And Geralt didn't just purr like that when he was overstimmulated. Jaskier heard him purr like that several times when the people of a town had been less than friendly towards him. Oh, he tried to pretend that it didn't bother him, but his purr said otherwise.

Jaskier usually gave him his space, and busied himself on the other side of camp, pretending he couldn't hear him. If Geralt started looking too gloomy, the bard would casually wander over and hand him a mug of tea. Jaskier would then wordlessly drape a blanket around Geralt's shoulders.

He reasoned that since Witchers had several cat-like qualities, that surely they would like to be warm like cats did. He would then sit close beside Geralt, because cats liked to cuddle. It worked most of the time. Geralt would get all warm from the tea, and he would relax. His purr would change from Distressed to Happy as he would start to doze off, leaning on Jaskier...

#the witcher #the witcher headcanon #the witcher netflix #twn #geraskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #purring headcanon #soft!jaskier #geralt whump

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the-not-so-silent-back-up · 5 months

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The Love We Choose

Geraskier ModernAU

a big THANK YOU @cherrychapsticksteve for helping me out figuring some stuff out

Summary: Geralt is a Firefighter, but more important he is a single Dad to 4 y/o Ciri. Regularly they go to a cute little Coffeeshop where Jaskier works. And little Ciri is on a mission to help her Dad to find somebody to love.

Chapter - 1 -

Geralt is waiting outside the Kindergarten to pick up his daughter, there are a few other parents who are talking. But Geralt only knows one of them really so he just waits in silence. He has been alone with Ciri for a few months now, but it's still a weird feeling to come home and see Yennefer's desk empty.

They have loved each other, they really did but he is bound to his hometown and she needed to be flexible and be able to go on Business trips all the time. Geralt believed that after Ciris' birth things would be different, and things were different for a year at best. But then everything went back to the same old routine. Yennefer was in New York or London or Berlin and Geralt sat at home, the only thing that was truly different, Geralt wasn't alone, no there was Ciri, his daughter, his whole world that he needed to protect.

When Ciri was old enough to go to the Kindergarten Yennefer and Geralt figured out that they needed to go separate ways. Yennefer loves her Job to much, she really was the unpaid intern that made it to the top of this really big Marketing firm. And she isn't a family person, she tried to be one for Ciri, but she was afraid that she will regret that and will blame Ciri for it in the future, and her daughter didn't deserve this.

So now when Yennefer is in town, the three spend time together as a little family. It wasn't the family Geralt hoped for, but it's real. And some parents might not believe it but they are all really good with this. In the time they spend with Ciri they are really happy, and the phone calls Ciri has with her mother weekly are really good for their relationship.

Geralt came to the conclusion that having a family that is really happy and working is much better than to force a family together to fit the image everyone has.

Roach is pulling on the leash, Ciri has to be in sight. This Dog really loved this Child, and she would do anything to protect her. She once growled at a pigeon because it scared Ciri.

"Daddy, Daddy did you know that hedgehogs eat slugs?"

"No ,I didn't know that, where did you learn this from?" Geralt picked the little backpack up and took Ciris tiny hand.

"Miss McHall read a book about hedgehogs and there was a list of what they eat. And then in the garden Benni searched for a slug to try it himself, but he didn't find one."

"Hmm" Geralt didn't know how to reply to that.

"Daaaad is today a hot chocolate day?"

"sadly not sweetheart, I forgot my wallet at work but tomorrow is a hot chocolate day I promise"

"Oh Daddy, you really forget everything when I don't remind you" Ciri shakes her head a bit "But this time I wanna try the strawberry pie for real this time"

"I think Benni wanted to impress the girls," Ciri said at the dinner table "with the slug". What a strange topic at dinner. Geralt frowns in surprise.

"He always does those stupid things and then he runs up to the other girls and shows what he did. When Dara and I were spies we saw that."

Geralt carefully listens to his daughter.

"I mean finding a slug isn't impressive, and eating one is kinda mean because what will the hedgehog eat ? What you do is impressive Dad, you save people and teach other people how to save people."

"Thank you darling" Being a Father and a Firefighter isn't always the best mix but everytime Ciri says things like that it makes Geralt so proud.

"Uhm Dad, did you see that woman again, the one you went on a pizza date with?"

"Hmm no, she called me this morning and told me that I am nice but she has some family trouble and needs to focus on her family."

"Oh okay"

Yeah Geralt had a few dates every now and then. Yeah Ciri is his whole world, but he still is a Human and he misses the Romance in his life. The truth is Geralt hasn't the best dating game. He doesn't know what to talk about, when he doesn't talk about Ciri or his work or his Dog. He doesn't mention his daughter on the first dates, and when they actually reach a second or third date and Geralt tells them he is a single dad, most people refuse to see him again, it's just a big commitment for them. But also some of them just saw the big strong firefighter with all the muscles and not the man behind them and that's when Geralt says this isn't working out.

Ciri lays awake in bed, she could hear the TV from the living room. For sure her dad is lonely, but all this adult stuff is so confusing. In Kindergarten everything is easier, like you ask someone if you wanna be friends, then they ask you what you like to play and what's your favorite animal and then you are friends. And one day you draw a picture just for them and you are best friends. But adults don't work like that.

"My Dad needs my help to find someone to watch those silly romantic movies." Ciri whispers to herself. And she already has someone in mind and she has a plan, sort of.

The next day Geralt brought Roach back home before he went to pick up Ciri, and he checked for his wallet three times. He waited as usual in front of the kindergarten. Ciri is running right up at him, in her beautiful green dress. This morning they had an argument because Ciri wanted to wear her favorite dress so badly and Geralt was afraid that she would mess it up in the Kindergarten, but as Ciri promised it's all fine and she looks like the little princess she is to Geralt.

"Hot Chocolate Day!" Ciri is chanting as she is running to her Dad.

"Yes Sweetheart today I am fully prepared for the Coffeeshop."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

The Coffeeshop is near the Park where Ciri's favorite playground is. That's how they discovered it. Geralt pushed Ciri on the swing when a heavy rain surprised them. Geralt covered his daughter under his jacket and ran in the next building he found. The sweet little Coffeeshop at the Park. Geralt liked it because it wasn't that big and not many people fit in there and Ciri loved it because it's near her favorite playground and because they have so many beautiful cups and mugs.

They arrived at the Coffeeshop and because they already became regulars so they got greeted nicely. At first Geralt didn’t like it that strangers knew Ciri’s name, but he got used to it and the staff here is really nice.

A young tall man came up to their table and Ciri jumps up and ran towards him

"Jaskier! Look that’s my favorite dress”

“Oh hi Ciri it’s really beautiful, you look like a princess”

Geralt watches the scene with eagle eyes, but he knows Jaskier is no harm for his little girl, he is usually their waiter when they are in the Coffeeshop.

Jaskier lets Ciri twirl around herself, so the pretty green dress starts flying.

“My Daddy says that too.” Ciri stops spinning.

“Your Daddy says what ?” Jaskier seems to be confused with that statement.

“This morning my Daddy also said that I look like a princess. And when I am a princess my Dad must be a king right?”

“Then lead me to your king, princess Ciri.”

Jaskier could clearly see Geralt sitting at their favorite spot at the window, but he likes to play along with Ciri’s little games.

“Your Majesty I present to you, your daughter princess Ciri” Jaskier takes a bow in front of Geralt and Ciri tries to stay in character but could resist a little laugh.

“I have been sent directly from the kitchen to ask what the King and his daughter would like to eat and drink today.”

Geralt is a little lost for words, normally these silly games stay between Ciri and Jaskier, but now he is dragged into it like a theater play and he hasn’t learned his lines. Geralt tries his best to play along because he knows how much it means to his little girl if he does.

“May he bring us hot chocolate and strawberry pie for the princess and mint tea and cheesecake for me the King.”

Ciri giggles again.

“I like Jaskier he always so funny and nice to us”

“Yeah that is true”

Geralt stares out of the window, and he just enjoys the quiet coffeeshop. It wasn’t actually quiet but it wasn’t stressful like his day at the fire station. There was a fire near in the forest this morning, just because some stupid assholes had Barbeque last night and didn’t end their fire properly.

He turns around and on the table are the ordered pies and his tea but no hot chocolate is there and Ciri is gone too.

Panic runs through Geralt's veins, where is she? He was just looking away for a second. But then he saw her holding on to Jaskier’s hand as they picked a cup for her hot chocolate. How could he forget that she always picks a new beautiful cup to drink her hot chocolate from. She walked back to her Dad and sat next to him on the bench.

“I picked a cup with stars and the moon on it”

Jaskier walks over to their table and places Ciris cup right next to her pie.

“I saw there was smoke in the forest, was there a fire?”

At first Geralt is confused because he never told Jaskier that he is a Firefighter, but then he remembered that Ciri talks a lot with Jaskier if he has the time.

“Yeah there was a fire, but gladly it was near the forest not directly in there.” Jaskier looks relieved.

“Some people made a barbeque there and the remaining hot ashe lit the dry grass on fire”

Geralt could see the disbelief in Jaskier’s face, he really couldn’t hide his emotions.

“I hope you and your crew are okay”

“We are good, it was just another fire because of careless people”

He didn’t wanna say drunk people in front of Ciri, but the look on Jaskier’s face showed him that he did understand what he meant with “careless”.

“Ciri, your Dad is truly a hero, he and his crew saved the forest”

Ciri grinned and cheered “yes they are all heroes, my Dad, uncle Eskel, uncle Lambert and Vesemir”

New customers enter the place and Jaskier has to leave Geralt and Ciri. They eat and drink and Ciri told stories from the Kindergarten and from her best friend Dara. Even more people entered the coffeeshop as they left. They waved Goodbye to Jaskier and left the busy place. With Ciri’s tiny hand in his own he was so happy he had a daughter like her and this little coffeeshop they could call their special place.

#personal #jaskier #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #witcher #the witcher netflix #modern au #Alina writes #ciri #kinda a coffeeshop AU

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