#jaskier yelling off to the side
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"Seven tickets for the Barbie movie please"
#EIGHT!!#the witcher#incorrect witcher quotes#geralt of rivia#witcher memes#eskel#lambert#vesemir#jaskier yelling off to the side
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Spellbound - Geralt
Spellbound - Geralt
Authors Note: I’m back because I quit my job and have a better schedule at the new job
Warnings: semi smut
Word Count: 4012
Description: geralt fights his feelings until you get trapped in a spell
brothel worker! reader x geralt
Enjoy!
Geralt was going to tear whoever did this to you to pieces. He would gouge their eyes out and make them eat them.
That was just one of the thoughts that rang through his mind as he cradled you in his arms, your nose bleeding onto his now naked torso, the shirt you had torn off of him a mere moment ago nearly in the fire.
This was not supposed to be how this happened, this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He had made himself stay away for this exact reason, everything he loved was destroyed.
The witcher had always been against you joining the group.
You had been a brothel worker when you came upon Jaskier six months ago, walking the streets with achy legs from a long shift, smelling of the salt water you had bathed in when you saw a group of men holding him up and beating on him.
A yell had crossed your lips and without thinking you picked up a log near your feet, launching at the men and swinging anywhere you could to scare them off, hitting a couple of them harshly before they finally scampered away leaving you standing in the mud with a log and the poor fool laying bloody and beaten on the ground.
You had brought him to your tiny rooms at the brothel, helped him clean up and soon enough he was asking you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, watching him use one of your rags to dot at the cuts along his face before shrugging.
Anything is better than the life of a brothel worker, right?
Wrong.
Brothels didn’t have the annoying attitude of Geralt the fucking Witcher. Okay well some did since Jaskier admitted to Geralt being a frequent guest of them, but you had never seen him and you wished you never met him either.
He spent every waking moment snapping at you, or blatantly ignoring you when you were trying to ask questions. It was either you didn’t exist or everything you did was wrong, and you could never figure out why the way he treated you bothered you so fucking much.
Men had done far worse to you in that brothel, but Geralt giving you the cold shoulder nearly brought you to tears? What?
Then again none of the men that came to the brothel were like Geralt at all. None of them had those melting golden eyes or the firm touch of a protector, none of them could turn a sword in their hands the way he does or make anyone feel at ease in his presence.
Well……anyone but you.
Maybe he knew you had feelings for him, maybe he hated your guts. Many reasons why he never wanted to talk to you filled your head and none of them were good.
You spent your days obsessing over a man that barely glanced back at you, your horse in the back of the group with Jaskier always a force between you both.
Geralt takes a moment to tie the corset of your dress so you weren’t exposed before pulling you into his arms and laying you on his bed, moving to grab a cloth from the basin in the corner of the inn room.
When he returns to your side he takes a chance to slide the hair from your face, swiping the damp cloth along the blood trail your nose left in soft strokes as he watches you sleep. He would make sure you were breathing and comfortable before he went out and broke some limbs.
It had been six months of that behavior, and it was truly beginning to wear you down.
The days were spent either passive aggressively ignoring him back for scoffing at any mistake of yours he pointed out. Today was a passive aggressive silent game.
He had woken you up by snapping in your face and the months of travel and anger were beginning to catch up so you had slapped his hand out of your face, watching a small amount of shock fill his face before his eyes narrowed in anger.
“You overslept….again.” In the beginning you would have a snarky retort, something mocking his breath or face, but now you merely rolled your eyes and turned your back to him as you packed up your bedroll. He doesn’t seem to understand your silent game since he tries to piss you off once more. “We are going to be behind if you keep sleeping like this.”
It would be so easy to turn around and tell him to shove off, but then he would know he had that effect so you simply picked you belongings up, fixed your boots and walked to the horses where Jaskier sat atop his own.
The bard gives you a knowing look as you mount your own horse after fixing everything onto it, legs swinging with a natural ease and a slight warmth on your thigh. When you look down you see Geralt's hand placed on it, and you realize he had helped you up. “Are you angry with me? Or have you lost your voice?”
“Just matching the treatment given to me.” You snark, a feeling of pride in your chest when you see him all but snarl. You kick the horse into gear after that, this time taking the lead as his hand slips from your thigh and he rushes to Roach.
By the time he catches up he makes Roach walk alongside your horse, his face furious. “The treatment I gave you?”
You hum out, moving to speed up your horse but Geralt is too quick, within moments he has the reins of your horse in his hand, pulling on them until you are close enough for your thighs to touch.
“Answer me.”
You hum again, your heartbeat rising and you wonder if he can hear it when his eyes cast down to your chest before looking back at you.
“Humming is not an answer.”
You hum once more, moving to snatch the reins but his hand reaches out to grab your jaw. “I need to hear your voice.”
You slap his hand away once more and snatch the reins, giving him a glare before moving forward.
“I don’t understand.” He grunted to Jaskier later that day, fixing his travel pack on roach as the bard leans against the same post the horses were tied to. You had gone to the market to grab some necessities and when Geralt demanded to go with you he had been met with another empty hum and Jaskier had told him to back down.
“She’ll avoid attention if she isn’t traveling with a witcher, not to mention she knows how to bargain for cheaper prices when she isn’t flanked by your glare.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He growls, watching the bard smirk.
“The market workers like the attention she can give them-”
“We agreed she didn’t have to do any of that stuff if she traveled with us.”
“She does this willingly, and even so it’s not the same as in the brothel. She doesn’t have to offer up her-” A heavy growl slips from Geralt and Jaskier chooses not to finish his sentence, instead rolling his eyes and moving to his own horse. “I think you would be better off if you just told her you love her.”
“I do not-”
“Oh hush. I see you watch her sleep every morn, then I see you yell at her for waking up late because you forgot to wake her up.” He laughs. “And I see you hover whenever she mounts and dismounts Lugo. Not to mention the way you give her the bigger rations of whatever we eat and-”
“Fuck off.”
Jaskier takes the win and turns away from the witcher, fiddling with the lute while Geralt tries to make himself look busy.
After a moment of silence the witcher stands quickly. “Why won’t she speak to me?”
A laugh escapes the bard once more. “Because you ignore her any chance you get?”
“I do not.”
“Well I know that. But she doesn’t, because you never even bother talking to her. You’d rather silently pine like a lost-” He trails off when he sees you emerge from the hills, sacks of produce in your arms with a small smile on your face. “Fresh hells.”
“The men were ready to lose their money today boys!”
“Did they bother you?” Geralt growls and you give him a glare back before shoving the sack of apples into his chest.
Once he is sure you are breathing properly he covers you with the blanket, before moving to grab his sword, careful not to wake you up.
You spend the rest of the day simply ignoring them both, too busy being proud of the way you scammed the merchants and all you had to do was lift your skirt to your knee.
Geralt kept Roach near your own horse, and Jaskier took the back for once, all of you traveling in silence until Jaskier begins to whine.
“It has been forever since we slept indoors.”
Silence follows for a moment before Geralt turns to glare at him. “And Y/n just saved us so much coin we can each get a room in the next town.”
“This is true! I did!” You laugh, turning to look at Jaskiers mopey face.
“Fuck.” Geralt grunts, turning back to the road so he doesn’t have to look at either of you again.
Jaskier is still sitting in the hall with his lute, strumming softly in the drunken daze as the crowd they had gathered earlier has finally died down.
“Bard.” Geralt grunts, trying to get his attention. But Jaskier doesn’t move, simply keeps his eyes closed as he plays a chord. So Geralt kicks his chin.
The bard before him jumps up with a shout before his eyes land on the white haired witcher before him.
“I got us all rooms and I found you in a hallway.”
“I was merely resting for a moment.” He sighs, reaching down to grab the ale mug filled with coins he earned from his performance. “It’s hard to be a -”
The silver amulet is shoved in his face before he can finish the sentence, eyes widening as Geralt grunts. “Who gave this to Y/n?”
“The charming blonde who had been dancing with her all night while you sat in the back and glared.”
“Where did he disappear to?”
“You mean after you snatched her?”
By the time the three of you made it to the next town your ass was worn from the saddle and you were a bit wobbly when you got down, Geralt standing behind you and you scoffed as you looked at him. “Waiting for me to fall so you can lecture me?”
He opens his mouth to respond and you find yourself excited that he is actually about to answer back before he huffs and glares before disappearing. And once more you are left feeling like nothing.
You watch as he disappears into the tavern before turning to Jaskier. “I asked around at the market…”
“About?”
“About work.”
“Ah!” He smiles, moving to lean on you. “And what did you find for our dear witcher to do?”
“Not for him actually.” Your throat tightens as you struggle to find the words. Jaskier doesn’t seem to catch on to your solemn mood.
“Oh? A performance for me? I’m sure I can prepare a lullaby or two-”
“For me.” You interrupt, pulling yourself away from him and crossing your arms uncomfortably as he stares at you.
“For…..you?” You nod at his question, trying to gain some power here. “What do you-”
“Madame Horchels brothel is in this town, she is famous within word and if I met with her then I am sure I would be set up with a room and a hot meal a day-”
“Why in fucks sake would you ever want to go back to that?”
Tears were welling in your eyes as he stared at you and you struggled to find words. “I am just……tired of feeling useless and pathetic……”
“So you would go back to whoring?”
“You don’t have to act so disgusted!” You snap, shame filling you at his reaction. “I never saw you complaining about my past when I was flirting with guards or-”
“I am sorry, I never meant to judge. I just think…..” He sighs out and rubs his face aggressively before moving to pull you into a hug. “It’s been a cold couple days. How about we go in and get a drink, a good night's rest in actual beds before we make decisions? Yeah?”
A hooded figure passes you both to get into the tavern and you simply shrug. “I think my mind is made up Jask.”
“I think it would be a mistake and we would miss you terribly……..okay I would miss you terribly.”
“Why would you miss her?” Geralt snaps out from a couple steps away, eyes squinted in an angry manner. He had originally come to snap at you both to watch your surroundings but had caught the tail end of the conversation instead.
“Y/n here was just rushing a decision. But we aren’t gonna talk about that, right now a round of ale on me.”
“You spent all your coin two towns ago on new strings for your lute.” Geralt reminds, eyes never leaving your figure.
“Then I shall make more coin!” He cheers, pulling you into the tavern and snatching the room keys from Geralt.
Things escalated from there, and any time Geralt asked about their conversation they changed the subject and he was beginning to lose his mind. Were you okay? Why would Jaskier miss you? Why was he so worried about this?
He watched you drink all night, ignoring him, and he watched as many of the men in the tavern asked you for a dance. He knew none of the men were a threat, and you knew how to handle them, even if it got out of control he could have his sword to their throat with a mere minute. So he didn’t really pay attention to your dance partners.
But one in particular caught his attention, the hooded figure that had walked too close to you both earlier had emerged from his corner and asked for a dance, and something in Geralt screamed for him to go and get you away. But he didn’t, instead he sat back and drank, allowing you room to have fun.
The blonde stranger whirled you around and spun you and bought you drink after drink. Your eyes glazed over and your smile was wide enough to split your face, a jealous feeling crept into Geralts chest and the urge to punch the stranger grew and grew as Jaskier played song after song.
“Can I get you another drink?”
“Hmm?” Geralts attention snaps from your figure to the tavern wench beside him, giving him a small smile.
“Another ale?”
“I think I am fine. Thank you-” She doesn’t wait, walking away since she didn’t get more coin and when Geralt sneaks his attention back to you he can’t help but slam his empty mug down.
The stranger had you turn around with you lifting your hair as he placed an amulet on your neck, kissing your shoulder and before Geralt could stop himself he lunged to grab you.
One moment you are giggling about the gorgeous, the next you are thrown over Geralts shoulder as he shoves the gorgeous fae away from you, hauling you up the stairs of the inn with no care.
“Put me down!” You shout, slamming your hand into his back as he walks through the first hall then up the next flight of stairs.
“You’ve had too much to drink.”
“And you care why?”
“Because that man would take advantage.’ He growls.
“Well he gave me a necklace, that’s how the business works.” You giggle, reaching up to touch the necklace but the world whirls once more as Geralt places your feet on the ground and pushes you into the wall. His hand stopped your head from hitting the wood but the rest of you was pressed between him and the wall.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” You ask breathlessly, watching his face with adoration. Had he always been so…..
“Joke about that. You need something then I will get it for you.”
“What if I want the prettiest jewels in the kingdom?”
“Then I kill more beasts.” He was dead serious and the hazy feeling was taking over so before you know it you find yourself leaning in to whisper “What is I want an orgasm?”
A red tint crosses his neck but his face remains serious as he leans his head against yours to whisper. “Then you ask me.”
And for a moment you can’t breathe, you find yourself aching, every part of you wanting to touch him suddenly. But before you can he whispers once more. “But not tonight. My first time with you will be sober.”
Then the wood behind you disappears and you realize he had pressed you against the door to your room. Landing in a ball on the floor he sends a small smile before slamming the door and the heat that had filled you dims for a moment.
But just for a moment.
You pull yourself up from the floor, moving to the bed before the aching returns and your body heats up twice as bad. Everything begins going hazy as a sweat covers you and then you lose it.
“I need to go.” Geralt snaps, shoving Jaksier to the direction of the stairs. “You go watch her. Don’t let her make any more mistakes.”
“Where are you- Geralt? What happened?! Hello?!” Jaskier calls after the witcher, watching him storm through the tavern before slamming the doors on his way out. With a deep sigh the bard grabs his jacket and mug of coins before making his way to find the rooms.
It had been an hour since he left you in your room and Geralt could not relax himself. Jaskier had just stopped singing and Geralt was still pacing the inn room, back and forth back and forth.
The aching hard on he had refused to go away, the image of your dazed eyes all he could think about, and the way you whispered to him had him so close to snapping all together. But he didn’t, and you were safe in your room with him just two doors down. But the floorboards creaking by his door caught his attention, and he reached for the sword as the doorknob jiggled.
Stepping towards it slowly as it creaks open only to reveal you, standing in the hall in nothing but your dress slip and a flushed face. “Geralt-” You moan out and his knees nearly buckle when you rush in and slam the door.
The sword falls from his hands so he can catch you when you come hurdling to him, pulling him in for a harsh kiss. Your lips melt into his and you moan in victory when he kisses back, pressing yourself against him as your hands fly into his hair.
His own hands find purchase on you hips, and before he can tell himself not to he moves them to start a grinding motion the both of your would like. It stays like this for a moment until you bite his lip on a particularly aggressive moan, pulling back to catch a breath as you press your hips into his harder than before.
For a second he admires you, the way your face scrunches up in pleasure and the moans that he is pulling from your lips, letting out a heavy ‘FUCK’ when you circle your hips.
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” You gasp out, hands dragging from his hair to his chest before you start tearing the clasps on his shirt, scratching it a bit in your struggle to get it off. “Ineedyou, it hurtssobad-”
This makes him hesitate, pulling back a little just as you fling his shirt, your hands flying to undo the slip and he finally catches your eyes. Only they weren’t the eyes he had fallen in love with, instead they were a deep red.
“Y/n?” He asks, heartbeat racing as he snatches your wrists in one hand, the other coming to grab you chin. “Look at me.”
“Geralt, please. It hurts.” You whine and the gem in the amulet glows the same red as your eyes.
Dread fills him as he reaches down to tear it off you, the silver cutting you a bit before he chucks it across the room.
He couldn’t breathe properly as he watched you come down from the spell, anger filling him. You hadn’t meant any of this, this had been a spell.
He was a fucking fool.
“Geralt?” You breathe out, taking in the room before looking at his shirtless torso and the small scratches you had made to get the shirt off. “What-”
And just like that you were gone. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nose started bleeding as you passed out, he barely caught you before you hit the floor. “Fuck.”
You awake mid day- the sun blaring in through the blinds and you do your best to cover your eyes. “Oh make it stop-”
“There are no covers for the window.” Jaskier sighs from where he is laying on the floor. “I tried stealing the blanket from you and you hissed at me.”
“Serves you right….” You mumble, taking in the room as you realize that last night hadn’t been a dream after all and a deep embarrassment fills you.
“H-have…..have you seen Geralt?” You ask, leaning over the bed to look at him.
“He left around sunrise in a pissy mood.”
“Did he… did he say anything?” You felt like an utter fool, and you were doing your best not to be sick.
“Said to watch you so you didn’t make any more mistakes.” Jaskier shrugs before yawning.
“He said that? He said mistake?” Your voice cracks as you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself.
“He did. I assumed he caught you with the blonde gu- Y/n? What’s the matter?”
“I…… I have to go.” You rush out, jumping over him to leave the room.
- - - - -
Geralt finds Jaskier waiting at the horses when he rides up, tired and cranky, and he gets even crankier when he sees that your horse is empty of all your travel bags.
“Is she not awake? Do we need to get a healer?” He rushes out, launching from roach to get to the tavern only for Jaskier to hold the lute in front of him.
“She woke up several hours ago, it’s nearly dusk.”
“Then where is she?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?” His heart is racing too fast and he’s hoping that Jaskier starts laughing soon and this is all a joke.
“I told her you said to make sure she didn’t make any more mistakes and she got really sad and started crying as she packed up.” He explains. “She went to this brothel and they wouldn’t let me in but they let her in and she came out to say bye soon after that.”
“She went to a brothel?!” He snaps, grabbing the collar of Jaskiers dress coat.
“Don’t blame me! This is your doing!”
“How. So.”
“You were the one that made her feel worthless! Never looking at her and always in her business about her mistakes-”
“Her mistakes get her hurt, or worse, killed!”
“Then tell her that! Rather than yell at her all the time with no explanation-”
“Where is the brothel?”
“It’s no use.”
“Where. Is. The. Brot-”
“She made a deal! The madame owns her!”
“Not on my fucking watch.” Geralt snaps, mounting the roach in one fluent move before nodding to Jaskier. “Hurry.”
He had to get you.
Part Two
#geralt x reader#geralt smut#geralt imagine#geralt angst#witcher#witcher smut#geralt of rivia#witcher angst#witcher imagine#witcher fanfiction#the witcher imagine#the witcher angst#the witcher smut#the witcher c reader#witcher geralt#henry cavill#Geralt Geralt Geralt#witcher season 3#rory the frenchie
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Wild idea: Fairies like Jaskier and tend to silently watch him. So of course, some are on that mountain, see everything happen, take Great Offense to Geralt, and decide to torment a witcher.
Now, obviously, they can't physically attack a witcher. It takes a significant amount of their Luck to keep him from noticing them in the first place.
So they cause illusions and hallucinations. As Geralt walks down the mountain, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jaskier falling off the side. But every time he turns to save him, nothing is there.
He doesn't stop to rest until he's off the mountain. Every time he slows, he is overcome with the sense that he is being hunted, and his only option is to run away.
As he sets up camp, he hears Jaskier screaming, but there's no other sign of life. He hasn't smelt so much as a rabbit since he yelled at Jaskier. And when he follows the screams, there is still nothing.
He wakes to the sound of a fiend tearing flesh and the smell of Jaskier's blood. He manages to find the fiend, but there's no evidence that there was ever another person. And while eating fiend meat will make the next few days even more miserable, it's also the first somewhat digestible thing he's encountered in over a week. All the plants are either too diseased, rotted, or toxic to eat, no water source, not even morning dew, and there still being no sign of animal life.
He keeps walking, unable to see that he's walking in circles. Any time he strays from where they want him, he finds Jaskier's body in a worse state than the last time. And every time he approaches the body, it fades away.
If he tries to ignore it, the body will come alive and beg for him to please help, at least kill him himself instead of leaving him to suffer like this. No matter where Geralt goes, Fake Jaskier's cries just get louder until he complies. He's lost count of how many times he's snapped his friend's neck.
The fairies are amused in that way of theirs. They can't kill a witcher outright, but they can manipulate his senses and keep him tired, hungry, thirsty, and filled with dread for the friend he pushed away.
Maybe, if he's lucky, the bard or his sorceress will find and forgive him.
But most likely, he'll experience a witcher's retirement long before then.
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Ok let's play a game called:
I Can't Believe It's Not Fanon.
Otherwise known as...
Witcher facts that sound like Geraskier fic writers made them up, but that are, in fact, book canon.
PART ONE:
We've all read the fics where bad guys kidnap Jaskier in order to get to get to Geralt. These bad guys always regret it when Geralt slaughters every single one of them.
Well, good news! In Season of Storms, starting on page 310, this very thing happens.
(TW: Violence and gore)
Geralt is attending a royal wedding and once again, powerful people are trying to get him to do something he doesn't want to do. He enters a room to find:
Dandelion was as white as a sheet and clearly terrified...He was sitting on a chair with a high backrest. Behind the chair stood a skinny character with hair combed and plaited into a queue. The character was holding a misericorde with a long, narrow, four-sided blade. The blade was pressed against the poet's neck, below his jaw, slanting upwards.
"No funny business," warned Ropp. No funny business witcher. One false move, even one twitch, and Mr Samsa will stick the minstrel like a hog. He won't hesitate."
So, these particular assholes have accurately surmised that Geralt's weakness is Dandelion. There were any number of people they could have kidnapped, but they chose the poet. Of course, they underestimate Geralt, like so many people do.
Geralt tries to warn them that this is a very very bad move.
"You're making a mistake, Ropp."
They don't listen to him. They keep going, making increasingly florid violent threats to Dandelion's safety.
"Now," said the captain..."Now you will confirm that you've understood the task and will execute it. Should you not, before I count to ten under my breath, Mr Samsa will rupture the minstrel's right eardrum...if the desired result does not ensure, Mr Samsa stabs the other ear. And will then gouge out the poet's eye. And so on, to the bitter end, which is a jab to the brain. I'm starting to count, witcher."
What does Dandelion do? Well, he's terrified but he tries to be brave.
"Don't listen to him Geralt!" Dandelion somehow managed to make a sound from his constricted throat. "They won't dare to touch me! I'm famous!"
This is hilarious and very, very Dandelion. But also, it's not entirely unreasonable. Dandelion's fame often protects him, and sometimes it protects Geralt too. However, it doesn’t seem to be doing either at the moment.
Geralt says to Mister Samsa:
"First, move that dagger away from the poet's ear."
Mister Samsa seems to think that they have succeeded and Geralt is negotiating with him, so he complies. (this guy makes one bad decision after another)
"Ha," snorted Mister Samsa, lifting the misericorde high over his head. "Is that better?"
Geralt simply answers:
"Better."
Then without another word, Geralt kills them all, violent and bloody. It is a descriptive, vividly gory passage. He slices carotid arteries and groins. One man's neck spews blood onto the chandelier and ceiling. But I find what Geralt does to Mister Samsa to be particularly significant and satisfying.
The Witcher jerked the sword from the scabbard before Ropp fell, and with one fluid movement coming out of a short spin, hacked off Samsa's raised hand. Samsa yelled and dropped to his knees.
So Geralt’s actions say...you use your hand to hold a blade to *my* poet's neck, and I will chop that motherfucker off. Let's see you do that again without a hand, you piece of shit.
It's a gory passage. I'll skip to the end. The royal instigator comes into the room to investigate and asks Geralt about the one man he has left (sort of, temporarily) alive.
The instigator examined the captain, who was lying, stretched out in a pool of urine, salivating copiously, and trembling incessantly.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Shards of nasal bones in the brain. And probably several splinters in his eyeballs."
"You struck him too hard."
"That was my intention," said Geralt, wiping the sword blade with a napkin taken from the table. "Dandelion, how are you? Everything in order? Can you stand?"
I find that pretty hot. Geralt has corpses and blood all around him, and he's being asked questions by the authorities. They could arrest him. They could lock him up. They could execute him. Geralt does not give a single solitary fuck. He is going, you're goddamn right I did that. He is casually wiping his sword blade with a napkin and asking Dandelion if he's alright. He has accomplished the important thing (saving Dandelion) and doesn't care about anything else.
Dandelion is freed and vomiting all over the floor. (Poor guy. He doesn't have a stomach for violence and gore. Joey portrays this well in the show.) He answers, babbling:
..."For fuck's sake, I've never been so afraid. I felt like the insides were falling out my arse. And that everything would drop out of me, teeth included.
God I love that part. Hilarious and very relatable. I'm sure if someone kidnapped me and put a knife to my throat, I would feel the same. (Dandelion is always the human/the reader stand in.) But the next part is so sweet.
But when I saw you I knew you'd save me. I mean, I didn't. But I was counting strongly on it. How much sodding blood there is! How it stinks in here! I think I'm going to puke again."
He knew Geralt would save him. When he saw him, he knew. *sob*
Then, Dandelion's cousin (the royal instigator is Dandelion's cousin) says he is going to take Geralt to the king to resolve this, and for Julian (Dandelion) to stay there. (People who knew Jaskier as a kid call him Julian.) Dandelion refuses.
"Fuck that. I'm not staying here for a moment. I prefer sticking close to Geralt."
I don't blame you, buddy. Who else is going to slaughter a bunch of people for you?
--fin---
Ok, I have a lot more of these fic sounding witcher facts, like:
A shape shifter reads Geralt's mind, then turns into Jaskier because he knows that’s the best way to protect himself.
Geralt and Jaskier share beds.
Geralt and Jaskier share clothes.
Geralt travels with Jaskier for years but has no idea that he is a viscount. When he does find out, it is in public, from a third party, and yes it is hilarious. (Bonus. Ciri finds out this way as well)
Geralt may play it cool to his face, but he thinks Jaskier has a gorgeous voice.
Jaskier has a voice so beautiful, it can calm a monster.
Geralt drops everything to protect Jaskier, every time, even in the middle of battles when there are other people around to protect.
Geralt can smell lust
They also share a kiss in a few of the translations, but not all. It's a very "y yo también" situation.
If people like this post, I can make it a series, pulling book passages for each of the others. Let me know!
#the witcher#geraskier#geralt of rivia#jaskier#gerlion#the witcher books#canon or fanon#i can’t believe it’s not fanon
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Plotted Starter for @maasmuse - Hello Again!
“After him! Don’t let the minstrel get away!”
Shit, fuck. Jaskier thought as he ran as fast as his legs could take him. This really wasn’t how he planned on his evening going, he thought as he barreled through a crowd earning him quite a few insults in the process but it did slow his pursuers enough to get a good distance but he could still hear them so he wouldn’t stop his running just yet.
How was he to know that the lovely lady he had been speaking to was the wife of a crime underworld leader? Not a question one someone particularly asks when you first meet them. ‘So before we go any further do you have a partner who will happily boil my skin off for talking to you?’ Quite the mood killer if you asked him.
Jaskier ducked down a side alley hoping that they might assume he continued straight on, he knew he couldn’t continue at this sprinting speed - his side was hurting and his breath was getting harder and harder to catch. Unfortunately these bonehead henchmen had more sense than he gave them credit for and he heard them agree to split up with one group heading down the alley where he was trying to catch his breath. Right! Off he goes again and he sprinted further down it only to be met with a dead end.
Shit. Right...think Jaskier, think. You are not going to die today. You are too pretty to die. The world would be bereft without you. He closed his eyes to try and focus and then suddenly the world whirred around him then he hit the ground. The yelling was gone though. Had they given up? He was almost afraid to open his eyes so he’d do one by the one. Though when he would, he wouldn’t see angry henchmen, or the alley he was trapped down. He didn’t truly know exactly where he was. Not immediately.
Well, this could be good - or it could be worse. Guess he’d wait and see.
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(this contains graphic description of violence and is absolutely skippable if that's not your thing!)
the VOTE and FANART are UNDER the cut because of this
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The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.6
“Gentlemen,” he greeted the soldiers with a face-splitting grin and a courtly bow of his head. “It appears, there has been a misunderstanding.” The men stared at him, unmoving, tense. Behind them Aiden was still caught in his rage, not able to recognize Jaskier by his scent or sound anymore. “Why don't we all just sit down and talk about this like civilized people? I'm sure we can find some common ground.”
The bard's smile never wavering, he took a step forward only for the five soldiers to draw their swords at him. Steel for humans, Geralt's voice echoed in his thoughts as if any of that mattered. Silver had never stopped Jaskier before. Holding his hands up in what he knew was commonly understood as a surrendering gesture, he cocked his head to the side, watching as the archer reached behind his back for his bow. “How about some tea? I have this lovely mixture of zerrikanian spices that goes great with the apples you can buy around here. Oh, that reminds me! I wanted to keep some for apple cakes! Which would mean we can't use all of the tea, but surely some of you would prefer chamomile anyways, there's always one person that-”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Jaskier's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of his teeth. His initial smile had fallen off his lips as he stared at the man that had interrupted him with pure bewilderment. “Well that was incredibly rude. You are not getting any tea from me now.”
“I told you to shut the fuck up!” The same soldier as before yelled at him, spitting towards Jaskier's boots as he did so. The bard pulled a face in disgust.
“In the name of the crown of Redania, you are under arrest to be executed in the capitol!”
The forest was quiet around them, silent except for the wind in the trees and the metallic sound of the redanian soldiers readying themselves to arrest him.
The bard stared at them unblinking.
“Drop to your knees, this instance!” another soldier ordered harshly.
Jaskier's head fell back as he started to cackle loudly. The sound coming from deep inside his chest and forcing way through his throat like creature of its own.
“I don't think so, darling.”
Jaskier took a deep breath and exhaled it as the world slowed down around him.
They had hurt Aiden. Five soldiers in front of him, despicable creatures, faceless and worthless. Throats easily accessible from above. Exposed ankles. An unprotected back.
The Archer; almost too easy to kill.
A sixth trying to sneak up on him from behind. Useless.
His pack and lute slipped from his shoulders. The dull thumb cushioned by the forest floor. Aiden cried out in pain.
Jaskier inhaled and spun his body around, faster than any witcher ever could. His short sword was off his belt and in the man's eye socked before the soldier could even react. It popped with a horrible squelching sound that turned into the cracking of bones as the blade dove deeper and deeper into his skull. He was dead before his scream could form in his chest. Jaskier took hold of the man's throat and pulled his sword out, blood and chunky bits of soft tissue being forced out of his skull. He had been the one that made fun of the scar in Aiden's beautiful face. Now his body dropped to the ground lifelessly. Jaskier released his breath.
An arrow seared past his head and struck the bark of a tree not an arms length behind Jaskier. The archer's face lost all color as he watched the body of his fellow soldier hit the dirt floor. Freezing blue eyes fixated on their new target. Pulling a knife out of his blood splattered sleeves, Jaskier mourned the death of his favorite teal doublet and threw the barbed knife at the archer. He dropped to his knees like a puppet who's strings had been cut, cradling his stomach as a fearful scream broke from his lips. They always screamed in the end.
Running towards the next soldier, Jaskier couldn't help but to roll his eyes when the archer pulled the knife out, gutting himself in the progress.
The horses whinnied in panic, fighting against the reigns. Aiden snarled.
The soldier closest to him raised his arm high above his head, ready to strike down at the bard. Jaskier scoffed. Angling his own short sword upwards he closed the distance between himself and the other man and stabbed him right into the pit of his raised arm. The tip of his blade tore through flesh and bone until it hit the underside of the soldier's shoulder guard. Jaskier's opponent let out a primal howl as he dropped his sword to the slowly reddening forest floor. The bard ignored him, jerking his blade back out with brute force and kicking him to the side, eyes already focused on the next one.
Their swords met, loudly crashing against each other. The screeching sound of steel carving into steel seemed dull to Jaskier's ears. He inhaled and the world slowed down once more. He easily parried the next attack, taking hold of the man's elbow and twisting both of their bodies around, so they were chest to chest. As a result the redanian soldier that had tried to surprise Jaskier from behind found his sword stuck in his comrade's back. Jaskier slit the wounded's throat without hesitating and shoved his dying body towards the other soldier who easily crumbled under the unexpected weight. Mercilessly, the bard jumped on top of the fallen man's chest, breaking his rips and crushing his organs within seconds. This one had dislocated both of Aiden's shoulders for fun. Now he was choking on his own blood. He deserved worse.
Jaskier snarled and took hold of a stray sword, ramming it into a whimpering mess of human flesh on the ground. Two left. His face-splitting smile was back.
Aiden woke to the familiar taste of swallow in his mouth and a pounding headache. His first attempt to open his eyes failed miserably, the midday sun so bright it hurt enough to make him hiss out loud. It still hurt like a bitch the second time, but Aiden was now prepared for it and could work through the awful sensation, thinning his pupils through sheer will.
He found himself lying on the floor, free of chains and rope and with his wounds slowly mending themselves together thanks to the potion. The bard was kneeling right next to him and when he noticed that the Cat had woken up, his cornflower blue eyes softened with relief. During the last month Aiden had been in this exact same situation often enough that he could call it familiar. And yet something in the back of his mind was gnawing at him like a feral dog. “Thank goodness, you're awake again. You honestly had me worried there for a moment! Didn't I explicitly told you not to get caught?” Jaskier scolded him lightheartedly as he helped him to sit up. Nothing about the bard's gentle scent or the typically playful behavior warned the witcher about what he was moments away from seeing.
Aiden's breath caught in his throat as he took in the fucking massacre around them.
The corpses of the redanian soldiers that had overpowered him a few hours earlier littered the floor, broken and mangled as if they'd been mauled by a full pack of werewolves. The stench of blood and death was overwhelming and yet, Jaskier was completely unharmed.
His hands and face were covered in drying blood, as well as his boots and the rest of his clothes, but the bard himself had not a single scratch on him as far as Aiden could tell. “I thought about searching through the camp, see if I can find anything worthwhile, but I wanted to be here for you when you wake up. I hate waking up alone, but the troop leader had a sword that could possibly replace your broken one and hopefully we can find some spare clothes and other useful stuff. If we take their horses with us we can carry a bit more,” Jaskier babbled happily on, completely oblivious to the witcher's inner turmoil. “Not like they need the horses anymore,” he laughed.
Aiden grabbed him by the wrist, finger nails digging into Jaskier's blood-caked skin.
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"May I have this dance?" Eskel asked offering Ciri a hand, causing her to stop bobbing around in her seat to the song Jaskier was currently debuting for them.
"Yes!" She cried out, grabbing the proffered hand in both of hers to drag the large Witcher to the open space behind them, the adults smiling and chuckling at her enthusiasm. Geralt and Yennefer were the next two to get up and join them after a wordless conversation which seemed to involve many head tilts and eyebrow raises.
Lambert raised his own in surprise when Aiden stood and gave him a borderline mocking bow,
"How about it?"
Lambert swallowed down his mouthful of White Gull. He wasn't anywhere near drunk enough for this (he wasn't even tipsy), but everyone else looked to be having fun. Yennefer and Geralt seemed to be treating it like it was some sort of courtly affair whilst Ciri was balancing on Eskel's feet, her delicate, tiny hands looking comically adorable in the Witchers huge paws.
"Sure, why not." He slapped his own hand down into Aiden's open palm, "But no way am I letting you lead."
"Do you know the steps?"
Lambert shook his head no as they made their way over to the others. It was a song Jaskier had come up with three days ago, there weren't any steps.
"Then who says anybody has to lead?"
Give them a couple of swords and it was almost like they were working a job together - moving completely in synch, able to predict the others next move without so much as a glance as they stepped and twirled. Of course, their jobs didn't usually require this much touching. Even when sparring, any holds were for effectiveness - disable your opponent as quickly as possible - they had a purpose to them. These holds...very much did not.
There was absolutely no reason for Lambert's hand to linger on Aiden's side, but linger it did, feeling the muscles flexing as the Cat moved. Aiden's own hands were resting on Lambert's biceps, feeling the heat of the others skin through the thin shirt - had the Wolf's arms always been this toned?
The outside of their thighs momentarily brushing together as they side stepped one another felt far more intimate than the action warranted before Lambert pulled Aiden into a spin, catching the Cat around his waist as he pulled him towards him. Aiden's hands found a new home on Lambert's shoulders and he was suddenly struck with the urge to wrap his arms around the Wolf's neck to bring him that little bit closer. He couldn't be sure, but for a moment it felt like Lambert somewhat hesitantly caressed his hip bones as he adjusted his hold before lifting Aiden off the ground and spinning them both.
Their bodies sliding together was a new form of torture as Lambert set him back down, their chests heaving despite the dance being nowhere near rigourous enough to warrant it. Both of them hyper aware of their hands on one another's hips but neither one pulling away.
"Uncle Lambert, dance with me!" Ciri yelled, breaking the moment as she crashed into his legs, grinning up at him. Neither of them knew when exactly Jaskier had started a new song but it definitely wasn't the one they'd started dancing to.
"Sure thing, Kid." He answered, not taking his eyes off Aiden until his niece started tugging at his sleeve impatiently.
"Save a dance for me, Princess." Aiden said, ruffling her hair, "I'm going to grab a drink, I think."
He moved back to his original seat and filled his glass to the brim from the jug of Gull before downing half of it, ignoring the bards too knowing smirk as he tried not to think about how Lambert holding him like that would feel without the barrier of clothing.
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Chapter 5
The Wolf and the Flame
Summary: Geralt had just found Ciri and was headed to Kaer Morhen when something drew him into the woods. He found a woman near death and things changed for them all. (I suck at summaries just read please!) Yennefer is bad in the start of this but she and Geralt work on their friendship. Eskel is a dick at first but there is a reason and it works out. Will have a happy ending. Ciri is younger here than in the netflix show. She is about 12.
Warnings: abuse history, injuries, hurt comfort, no one under 18 to be safe, will add when I need to
Words: 3,266
Yennefer cursed under her breath as she heard Geralt returning faster than she’d expected. He’d gone into the woods while Ciri and Jaskier were packing their things on the horses. She had to do this now if it was going to happen and she knew it. She’d helped Naurel to her feet with the guise of leading her to the horses just before she threw down the vial that caused the portal to flicker open.
“YENNEFER!” Geralt yelled when he saw the air ripple and wave to life. He ran toward it diving just in time to grab Naurel and pull her back causing all of them to topple to the ground. He rolled to his feet as did Yennefer and she tried to bolt toward the portal. It faded just before she reached it.
“Fuck,” she tried to figure out what to do. Had he seen her open the portal? If he hadn’t seen her do it then maybe she could claim surprise. If he had seen her could she make it to Ciri in time to take her instead since Geralt had his hands on Naurel? She only had one more potion to open a portal and she had to make it count. Movement caught her attention and Geralt’s as they both turned to see six Kikimora running toward them from where the portal had been.
“Fuck,” Geralt grabbed an elixir from the holster on his thigh and drank it as he pulled his sword from his back. He stopped one of them from slicing into Naurel by cutting its front legs off then stabbing it through the head. “Stand with Ciri and Jaskier,” he ordered. She ran to them and they all huddled together near the horses.
His sword arced through the air sending black blood flying as he fought against the monsters. They were fast and vicious as they encircled him instinctively knowing if they took out the biggest threat together the humans would be no match for them.
“Geralt!” Ciri gasped as one Kikimora stabbed into his thigh as another sliced across his side while he cut the head off of another with his sword. She hid her face in Naurel’s shoulder.
Naurel saw them spitting venom at the witcher and could see the smoke rising from his skin as it was melting away. Her hand was searching Geralt’s saddlebags while keeping her eyes on the battle trying to find anything that would help. By the time her hand closed around the handle of a dagger Geralt had killed four of the six creatures but he was fading from blood loss and the acid-like venom they had spit on him. “Jaskier, take Ciri,” she said, shoving the girl to the bard. Naurel stepped carefully toward Geralt and the two remaining Kikkimora’s just as the witcher hit his knees. “Hey!” she yelled to get their attention as she sliced across her arm.
“No!” Geralt’s voice was different, more dangerous and demanding with the elixir. “What the fuck are you doing?”
She held up her hand letting the blood flow freely knowing it would drive them crazy. Everything after that happened so quickly it was a blur. Geralt was on his feet right behind them swinging his sword and cutting them to pieces. He cut one’s head from its body and with a huge leap through the air he stabbed the other one from the top of the head through, driving his sword in the ground with a squish.
Geralt saw another portal open to his right and four people running toward them. On instinct, he raised his blade to the first one but stopped short of killing him. “You look like day-old shit,” he rasped before dropping his weapon to the ground and leaning heavily on Naurel while grasping the bleeding gash on her arm.
Eskel was shocked when he saw Geralt was the one at the site of the attack, Their amulets had all alerted them to the presence of monsters nearby, and with Triss at the keep, she offered to portal them so they didn’t have to ride in the snow. He hadn’t expected to see his brother at the other end.
“What the fuck happened here?” Lambert asked as he saw the four humans and the six dead Kikkimoras.
“A portal opened and released the kikimora,” Geralt explained. “Nothing else came through though,” his confusion was clear. “Did you see anything?” he looked at Naurel.
She wasn’t sure what happened. It looked to her that Yennefer used a potion to open a portal but why would she do that? She was a witch, she didn’t need a potion for that. “I..I don’t know. I just saw Yennefer drop a potion and then everything went wavy.
All eyes turned to Yennefer who thought up a lie quickly. “I had made a potion for Naurel and was about to give it to her when the portal opened. I didn’t see anything come through besides the creatures. I’m sorry I wasn’t of more help but I was trying to get her to safety.” Geralt could hear her heart racing but he didn’t question her. She breathed a sigh of relief.
It was decided that Geralt, Naurel, Ciri, Yennefer, and Jaskier would accompany Triss and Eskel to Kaer Morhen through a portal while Lambert and Cohen brought the horses up the path. It ensured that the keeps location remained a secret and also that Geralt and his friend could be treated quicker.
When they stepped out of the portal he put his arms around Ciri and Naurel ushering them into the great hall with Yen and Jaskier following with Eskel. “Look who we found,” Eskel shouted at the other witchers.
“We thought you were dead,” one of them yelled.
“Not yet,” he grinned as they all moved to embrace their brother. Naurel and Ciri smiled as they watched them interact.
“Wolf?”
Geralt turned toward the newest voice. “Vesimer,” he hugged the old witcher then introduced his companions.
“Damn three women and a bard,” one of his brothers smirked. “You must be in hell.” Naurel grinned and shook her head at their banter before allowing Triss to guide her to a seat at one of the tables.
Once greetings were shared and everyone started drinking and telling stories Geralt sent Ciri and Jaskier off in search of rooms and Triss, Vesimer, Geralt, and Naurel all moved to the laboratory. Naurel insisted that Geralt be looked over too after all of the venom and he smiled. “I’m a witcher. I will heal on my own.”
She wasn’t happy about it but she relented and let Triss expose her wounds. Vesimer stepped forward but stopped, “May I?” she nodded her consent, grateful he’d asked before touching her. After much looking and touching, even drawing blood for testing she was on edge but covered in salves and most of her wounds were healed by Triss. She wasn’t hurting nearly as much now.
Knowing that she’d agreed to come here to help Geralt figure out why he was so drawn to her she knew she had to come clean now. She looked at him, “You’re sure they can be trusted?” After all the things that had happened she was terrified of their reaction and them turing her over to the enemy again.
“Yes,” he assured her as he slipped his arm around her for support.
Vesimer looked at them both in question but gave her the time she needed to find her words. “I.. I’m not sure where to start to be honest. I was a slave in Centra all my life, sold when I was three, and just traded around to a few families. There was nothing about my life that seemed important at all. It was really boring, to be honest, until the day I was sent to the market to buy a sweet cake for the master's child’s birthday. You see his mother didn’t like to cook and she feared that he was already too reliant on me so if I made him a birthday cake that it would make him look to me more than her,” she knew she was babbling but couldn’t stop herself.
“I went to the market after lunch and bought a sweet cake and a wooden soldier that my master wanted to give him as a present. As I was walking from one merchant to another there was a group of guardsmen wandering around and one of them made a crude comment to me. I ignored him and finished the shopping but they were waiting for me as I left.” A shiver wracked her body at the memory and Geralt rubbed her back soothingly. “They cornered me and kept trying to touch me making lewd comments about things they wanted to do to me or me to do to them. I tried to walk past again and one of them grabbed my breast. I..I slapped him,” her voice wavered and tears spilled down her face. She looked at Geralt with wide, pleading eyes as she tried to explain her actions like she was going to be punished for them again. “It was stupid I know but I didn’t even realize I was doing it until I felt my hand connect with his cheek.”
His heart broke at the fear that was coming off of her. Geralt hugged her close to him rockinging her gently to try and sooth her. When she was finally able to speak through the sobs she started again. “They knocked me down in the mud and started hitting and kicking me as they ripped at my dress. That’s when I heard someone yell he’d been robbed and he came running over to the guard. They spoke in whispers and suddenly they were going through my basket. I just sat there with my knees pulled to my chest trying to cover myself where they’d ripped my dress while they dumped everything on the ground.” She looked up at Geralt with tear-filled eyes, “I watched him drop the bracelet onto the pile of things. He took it from his pocket and just dropped it. The guard saw him do it but he arrested me anyway.”
He wanted to go kill the guardsmen but he was pretty sure they were likely already dead. “Is that where you were tortured?”
“N..no. The man who accused me of stealing, the one who put the bracelet in my things, He requested I be turned over to him as punishment. Queen Calanthe agreed to his request and I was taken to his carriage and bound to it.”
“Do you know his name?” Vesimer asked.
“No. No one ever said his name in my presents. I don’t know how long he held me captive and tortured me. He would starve me until I was too weak to fight back then he would do all sorts of medical experiments,” she shivered at the memory. “When he got tired of cutting things and breaking my bones he moved to magic.” She looked at Triss, “It was nothing like you do. It felt,” she paused and searched for the proper words. “It felt wrong, like it was fueled by hate but I had never even seen the man. What did I do to make him hate me?” she questioned.
“Some people are just evil, girl,” Vesimer told her. “We witchers were made to fight monsters and protect humans but when they created us they didn’t consider that some humans were monsters.”
“It blurred the lines of what we do that’s for sure,” Geralt agreed.
She rested her head on his shoulder. All the emotions were draining her energy. “He cast all sorts of spells, forced potions into me, performed rituals, injections” she shook her head. “I don’t know what he did to me but I felt as if all the warmth from my body was turned to ice. I’ve never been warm since. I’m always weak and tired and it takes all my energy to just walk sometimes.”
Triss put some water in a cup and handed it to Naurel. She accepted it gratefully but her hands were shaking so bad that Geralt had to help her steady it to take a drink. Not realizing how thirsty she’d been till the cool liquid hit her tongue she drank it down quickly then blushed when she realized she’d gulped it down. “Were you always on the move like when Geralt found you,” Triss asked.
“No, I was kept in a dungeon most of the time. I don’t know why they moved me but one night, I guess it was night, I had no way of seeing the sky, they moved me and I was whisked away in some traveling camp. It was on the third day of being kept in the camp that the attack happened.”
“Do you know who attacked?” Vesimer asked.
Naurel hesitated unsure if she should tell them. She felt Geralt lift her chin and turn her head so that he was looking into her eyes. “Please, we need to know. You can trust us.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just,” she sighed. “It’s so unbelievable.”
“More than mutant warriors who fight monsters?” he smiled at her trying to ease her tension.
“He was about to kill me. I guess with everything going on it was too much trouble to keep experimenting on me. Just as he held the blade high to stab me in the chest, howls ripped through their air and he froze. I heard the soldiers screaming and then yipping and barking. The mage fled the tent to see what was happening and I forced myself to roll off the table and crawled out of the tent. I don’t know if I was just trying to see what was happening or hoping he’d come to finish what he’d started but I did not expect what happened next.”
“A wolf pack, three grays, and one huge white wolf had killed all of them except the mage. I saw him open a portal and flee. I lay on the ground unable to run as the white wolf stalked toward me. He stood over me and I was positive he was going to kill me but instead, he laid down and wrapped himself around me. We stayed like that for three days. He kept me warm and tried to feed me by dropping random chunks of the guards on me and when I refused he started to get upset. On the third day, he stood over me and tried to pour a mouth full of blood into my mouth. I curled up so that he missed and he gave a growl that terrified me before he howled loudly. It wasn’t long after that, maybe ten minutes, before you arrived.” She took a shaky breath, it felt better to get it out. Not having to hide her crazy meant that they could lock her away and be done with it.
They were all three staring at her but it was Vesimer who spoke first. “Geralt’s guide is a white wolf.”
“Guide?” she asked.
“When you become a witcher you go through different trials,” Geralt explained. “Some witchers find spirit animals that help guide them on their tests. My animal was a white wolf.”
“It’s a rare thing for a witcher to have a spirit guide, it’s one of a few things that makes Geralt special among us. Geralt was destined for something more and we’ve always known that but we just don’t know what it is. It seems that you are destined to be a part of that too,” Vesimer told her.
“I noticed something when I met you but I didn’t think anything of it until now,” Triss said. “The way the two of you interact is different. He says something and you lower your head and bare your neck to him, other times you look like you want to argue but you can’t.”
Naurel’s face burned red as she tried to hide behind her hair. “He has this rumbling growl that makes me listen even when I don’t want to and this scent that will almost make me enthralled.” There, now her embarrassment was complete.
“I find myself drawn to her, even before I knew her,” Geralt continued. “I can’t stand for her to be out of my sight and I’m so protective of her that sometimes even friends touching her causes a reaction. She smells,” his eyes close, “like safety and home.” He looked at her, his pupils blown wide, “I fight the urge to mark her every second.”
Vesimer and Triss share a look before the sorceress goes to retrieve a book. “Geralt was injected with a mutagen that had wolf DNA in it. He picked up the aspects of the wolf,” Triss said as she handed them the book. “He is an alpha, the strongest in his pack and you my dear seem his mate.”
“What? No,” Naurel shook her head. “He already has a mate. He’s bound to Yennefer, not me. I came here so that one of you could free me from whatever magic binds us and he can be free of me.”
“I’m not bound to Yennefer,” Geralt growled.
“Did you not wish..” she argued but he cut her off.
“I made a fucking wish that our deaths be bound. She was trying to kill herself by becoming host to the Djinn. It's the only reason she agreed to help Jaskier to begin with. She thought he was the one with the wishes. When I came for him she was trying to capture the Djinn in her body, to become the vessel. A Djinn can not kill its master so I used the last wish to bind our deaths.”
“But you… after,” Naurel waved her hands as if to signify what she wasn’t saying.
“I couldn’t fucking sleep!” he roared like that explained everything. “I was tense and frustrated,” he growled.
“You slept with Yennefer too?” Triss asked, petulantly.
“You whore,” Naurel snapped. Triss gasped but then saw the woman was looking at Geralt and not her. “I guess you have a thing for witches!” She stood and started to walk out but he grabbed her arm and stopped her.
Geralt glared at Vesimer who was not even attempting to hide his laughter before turning back to Naurel. “That was years ago before I even knew who you were! You can’t judge me on my past.”
She really wanted to argue but realized he was right and it made her sort of angry because he was hers. Wait, where had that thought come from? “Fine but what are you going to do about Yennefer? She thinks you are mates.”
“I will talk with her,” he promises as he pulls her close and breathes in her scent.
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Little Socks
Read on AO3
Jaskier could not get warm.
He was pretty sure he was fighting off a bug; there was always something circulating amongst the students he taught, and it was a miracle if he ever got through a winter without catching something wretched that would lay him out for a week. It was frustrating timing, though, since they both finally had a stretch of days off together for the holidays, and Jaskier had been looking forward to spending the two weeks’ break between semesters with his boyfriend, not laying in bed sniffling.
At any rate, he was currently wearing long flannel PJ pants and one of Geralt’s old t-shirts, curled up in their bed in a cozy, two-layer blanket burrito which he had pulled up around his ears, and he was still cold. He could hear Geralt puttering around, coming quietly in and out of the bedroom where Jaskier was napping their snowy Saturday afternoon away.
He wished that Geralt would come lay down and nap with him (he’d love having that big warm body to cuddle up to and steal all his warmth), but he knew getting the man to laze around was a lost cause, even on vacation. It was nearly impossible to bring his boyfriend to rest; Geralt was like a damn shark that had to be in motion at all times, cleaning, and doing chores, and working on projects around the house. Jaskier, who was an expert in relaxing, found the whole thing baffling.
Of course, if Geralt ever did sit down to do anything less active than playing a video game, he tended to fall asleep in minutes like the cranky old man he was at heart, head konked back against whatever chair he’d sat down in and snoring like a lumberjack. It was endearing.
Jaskier slitted his eyes open against the pale, wintry afternoon light just enough to see Geralt emerging from the closet with a laundry basket, and called out to him.
“Geraaaalt,” he whined sleepily into the blankets tucked around his face, and Geralt turned back from the doorway to peer down at him. “I’m cold.”
“D’you want another blanket?” Geralt asked like the wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend he was.
“No, that’ll make me too hot,” Jaskier groaned, sounding pitiful even to his own ears. He shoved his bare foot out the bottom of the blankets and waggled it in the chilly air. “Can you put some little socks on me?”
He could hear Geralt breathe a laugh at him, but he put the laundry basket down on the other side of the bed and headed to the dresser. Jaskier snuggled down further in his blankets as he listened to the dresser door slide open and closed, and sighed happily as Geralt caught his waving foot in his big warm hands and carefully pulled on one of the cheap, brightly-printed, thin cotton socks that Jaskier loved to wear around the house–- just thick enough to be a little warm, but not so fluffy they’d make him overheat. As soon as one foot was covered he pulled it back into the warmth of his blanket cocoon and stuck the other foot out in its place.
“You’re pretty cute, did you know that?” Geralt said fondly and squeezed newly sock-clad arch of Jaskier’s foot gently before he tucked it back under the blankets.
“Yep, I know,” said Jaskier with a happy wiggle and a smirk, already starting to warm up and rubbing his sock-covered feet together contentedly. “Thanks babe, that’s already better.” Geralt laid his hand over Jaskier’s blanket-wrapped ankles. The gentle weight was more comforting than it had any right to be for such a small thing.
“Yell if you need anything,” Geralt rumbled quietly. “I think I’m going to go scrub the oven, so just text me if I don’t hear you.”
“Of course you are, what else would you be doing to relax on a Saturday afternoon? Freak.” Jaskier murmured lovingly, starting to drift off with a soft little smile.
The low sound of Geralt’s chuckling faded down the hallway as Jaskier hummed and fell asleep.
#domestic fluff#sweet silly little moments#small acts of love#Geraskier#modern AU#geralt#jaskier#my fic
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Labour?
(Title is still in the works) This is just a brief prologue. With an abrupt ending.
Main pairing: Geraskier,
Side pairings: Vesemir/Original Male Character, Eskel/Original Female character.
Tags: Alpha/Omega/Beta au, canon divergence, arrange marriage -kind of?
Vesemir looks down, unimpressed at the young omega at his feet, even less so at the omega’s beta ‘father’ that put him there. Male omegas were as rare as alpha females, unheard of but not impossible. The boy wasn’t a tiny thing like his omega; he was all limbs and about as tall as his oldest, with no hips to speak of. This wasn’t the first time men have tried to sell their unwanted children off to the witchers to pay their debts. But Vesemir already had enough pups and wasn’t looking for another.
“And what am I to do with him?” Vesemir asks, looking back up at the court. “He’s no child surprise, far too old for the mutations to take.”
The beta growls a low warning, which is unimpressive, but Vesemir doesn’t allow the challenge to go unpunished. Growling back louder, a vicious snarl that sends the beta aback. A fraction of a movement caught Vesemir’s eyes: a young girl hanging off the skirts of her maid. The red swollen mark on her cheek would soon become a proper bruise. She was a timid thing, holding on to a well-cared-for doll.
“She’ll do,” Vesemir says, his eyes narrowing on the girl. "She’ll make a fine playmate for my youngest.”
“No!” The forgotten omega at his feet snaps, grasping Vesemir’s arm, pulling attention back onto him. “You will not touch her.”
Cornflower blue meets harden amber, the first time Vesemir had seen the omega’s eyes full of defiance. The pieces clicked; maybe he would have a use for this omega after all.
“Very well, then,” Vesemir shacks his arm out of the boy’s grasp. “I’ll take the omega off your hands, as well as his dowry.”
“Dowry!” The beta yells,
“Yes, if he is to mate one of my sons, a dowry is to be paid,” Vesemir explains, taking the time to now circle around the omega. “Then again, you are trying to cheat your way out of a 1,000 crown contract. You must not even have a dowry for your children.” A few snickers meet Vesemir’s ears, it seems someone else was enjoying the look of humiliation on the Lord’s face. After that, getting the dowry, a horse for the omega, and a bag of his belongings didn't take much convincing.
“Go witcher.” The lord sneered, “Do not expect a warm welcome again.”
—-------
It was a long ride to where ever the Witcher alpha was taking him. While Jaskier was pleased to be away from his father, he will dearly miss his little sister and hope she will be safe without him there to protect her. The alpha didn’t speak much or at all, only deeming him worthy of conversation to command when to rest, eat, and water the horses.
Jaskier wasn’t good at silence, so he spent most of the time lost in his head, humming songs or speaking softly to himself. He had made it through most of Hannelore Varidil’s epic poem, which he had memorized years ago. When they had stopped in a village outside of Kaedwen after weeks of camping outside, Jaskier was ready for a real bed, even if it was filled with straw. The Witcher dismounted effortlessly, while Jaskier still hadn’t mastered it. Once his feet touched solid ground, a young boy quickly gathered the reins in exchange for a few coins.
“Come.” One-word commands. It seems that all the conversation Jaskier will ever have. Vesemir leads him to some form of market, stalls set up near two established buildings, the inn, and a tailor. Assuming they were heading for the inn, Jaskier didn’t think much but walked forward, only to be stopped by Vesemir.
“Finally going to sell me then?” Jaskier couldn’t help the quip as it left his mouth. Then, he braced himself for a smack that never came, only a chuckle.
“Not worth the hassle.” Vesemir answered, “They’ll probably arrest me for kidnapping.”
“Fair. So what are we doing?”
“Shopping.” Vesemir turned to the nearest stall, selling vegetables, and moved on before finding a traveling merchant with what he needed.
“A master Witcher,” the merchant smiled. Vesemir didn’t need his secondary gender to tell him what he needed from the man. The Distaste was obvious, but he wouldn't turn down a paying customer.
“A blue Opal pendant to match your omega’s beautiful eyes.” The pendant was beautiful, and its silver wiring suited it better than the gilded sapphire next to it.
Vesemir huffed but didn’t correct the merchant; instead settled on a crescent moon-shaped jasper with bronze wiring. “My mate prefers the simpler things in life,” Vesemir admits, holding the necklace in the light.
“A young thing such as him-“
“He’s not my mate. He’s for my son.” Vesemir growls,
#Witcher#Geraskier#Geraskier a/o/b#geralt of rivia#jaskier the bard#jaskier#omega Jaskier#Alpha Geralt
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writing patterns 👁️
rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!
Was I tagged by someone?
No!
But I saw this on @cranberrymoons Tumblr and I thought it was fun so I just jumped in (sorry XD)
1 It’s not the first time that Geralt has been hurt, but it’s the first time he almost died on Jaskier's watch. (Family Dinner, Jeraskier)
2 Steve Harrington is the most booked runway model in the world. (Separate Ways, Harringrove)
3 Billy doesn’t know why he accepted to go to this stupid club, and now that he is sitting on the sticky couch in faux leather he wonders once more how Steve convinced him to join him and Robin. (Wednesday, Harringrove)
4 Steve has trained for this all his life, but when his father gives him the order he hesitates. (I'll make you proud, Steddie)
5 Steve sighs in his dressing room while getting ready to shot, Robin, his personal assistant, got everything ready for him: his favorite snacks, some mango-flavored water, and even his lucky charm, but Steve knew that this movie was going to be the hardest he ever shot. (The scorpion and the frog, Harringrove)
6 “Fuck!” Billy yells, slamming the car door so hard that the entire car trembles for a moment. (Love is a battlefield, Harringrove)
7 Eddie sighs, looking at the boy at his side who is avoiding him as much as he can, which is quite hard given the fact they are sitting so close next to each other. (Black and Gold, Steddie)
8 Eddie sighs, looking at the white blanket around the chalet that Steve booked for their first holiday together. (Running From The Daylight, Steddie)
9 Eddie is kneeling in the mud, shaking like a leaf while Wayne runs toward him: there is a bullet hole in the trailer's wall just a few inches from his head and skid marks on the ground a few feet away. (Let the world around us just fall apart, Steddie)
10 It all started during The Masters: just a big misunderstanding that could have been clarified easily, but the other golf player decided that he could not forgive him and since that day Eddie Munson has tried to piss off Steve anytime he had the occasion. (The Caddie, Steddie)
So the main pattern is that I love to start with a name and that my characters sigh a lot because they already know that I'm going to torture them!
This are my no pressure tags because I think this is so fun!!! @kallisto-k, @spaceofentropy, @romeren, @rindecisions, @lorifragolina, @soaringornithopter, @slippy-slip, @cxwzkeys, @whataboutthefish, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation and everyone else who wants to join!
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The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 1
I decided that this headcanon needed some bonus scenes!
Error 404 Brain Not Found Headcanon
Jaskier had gotten up, harrassed Yennefer until she'd yelled at him, watched some tv, done all the other little mundane daily chores he had to do, then quickly gotten bored.
And when Jaskier got bored, he naturally involved Geralt in his outlandish ideas.
This one was going to be his best idea ever! He had to play it cool though, because Yennefer was home, and she was always trying to put a damper on his fun.
The second Yennefer leaves to go run an errand in town, Jaskier is bursting into Geralt's room.
"Yen has gone out, and I've got a hella fun idea! You remember that one kid that climbed up-!"
"No, the kid was fine! The bounce slows you way down!"
We're going to try it with two!"
"Two, Geralt! Think about it! It will be twice the fun, and twice as awesome!"
"We'll have helmets, it will be fine!"
Geralt was skeptical at first, but the more Jaskier talked about it, more he wanted to try it.
Was it dangerous? Probably, but it sounded like so much fun! And they would be wearing helmets. Geralt and his brothers had done sh*t like this all the time growing up in Kaer Morhen. It had vexed Vesemir to no end. And h*ll, he still regularly did stuff like this on most of his contracts. This was going to be like training in Kaer Morhen, except fun!
Yen would definitely not have approved, but she was gone for the moment, so they were unsupervised. Geralt felt a little thrill at the thought. She couldn't stop them!
F**k it, they were so doing this!
Not ten minutes later, they had everything set up, and Geralt found himself standing on the roof with Jaskier. The rational part of his brain sternly told him that this was f***ing stupid, but his inner child kept chanting "Do it! Do it! Do it!".
Yennefer was trying to decide which book she was going to buy when it felt like someone touched the back of her neck with an icy finger. A shiver coursed through her, accompanied by a strong sense of unease. Or was it dread? Her Dumbf**kery Alarm was going off. Geralt and Jaskier were doing something stupid.
Yennefer dropped the book and headed for her car.
Jaskier adjusted his helmet, then leapt off the roof, yelling "PEEEEEEENIIIIISSSSS!"
The bard landed in the center of the tampoline on the balcony and bounced over the side, landed on his a** in the middle of the trampoline on the ground, and then rolled in the grass. He jumped to his feet, unhurt with an excited whoop.
Geralt went for it. He hurled himself off the roof. Everything went swimmingly, until Geralt bounced off the first tampoline. That's when things went wahooni-shaped. All his Witcher reflexes took over when he landed on the second tampoline.
Jaskier didn't know what the h*ll happened, but one minute Geralt was hitting the first tampoline as planned and doing a fancy twirl in the air off the balcony, and the next minute he was bouncing off the second tampoline and flying, f***ing flying straight into the side of Van Roach.
Geralt slammed into the side of the van hard enough to make it rock. Jaskier was already running to him as he stumbled to his feet, cursing.
"F**k!"
"D*mmit! Geralt! Geralt, are you alright?"
"F**k!" Geralt said, stumbling over to the van, removing his helmet as he went. All he could see was the huge Witcher shaped dent in the side.
"Oh sh*t, Geralt...
Geralt ignored him, too focused on the warped side of his van. D*mn the dent was huge! He ran around to the other side and fumbled the side door open, praying to every god he knew that the dent wasn't deep enough to ruin the interior paneling. He swore again when he saw the dent had indeed been deep enough to damage the interior.
Jaskier fluttered helplessly around Geralt as he ran back around to the dented driver's side to see if the paint was scratched anywhere on the air brushed fantasy scene.
"Geralt," Jaskier says. He's tugging at Geralt's sleeve, trying to get his attention.
"Geralt!"
Jaskier is talking to him, but Geralt is too busy cussing and growling over the damage to Van Roach. But there's a note of urgency in Jaskier's voice that is getting hard to ignore.
"Geralt, you big oaf, your wrist is broken!"
Geralt finally focuses on him. The bard gently cradles Geralt's left wrist, supporting it carefully in his hands, and the Witcher finally looks at it for the first time.
It's very obviously broken. It's swollen, deformed, and already bruising. Now that it has his attention, Geralt can feel the pain.
And oh, f**k does it hurt!
They look at each other, the same realization in their eyes.
"She's going to kill us!"
"No she's not, because we aren't going to tell her!"
"She's going to f***ing see your broken a** wrist, and then she's going to start asking questions, and then she's going know, and then she's going to kill us!"
"Calm down, I can get us out of this! She'll never find out."
"How are you going hide a broken wrist?"
"Here's the plan. I'll go to the hospital. You stay here and put the tampolines away. You tell her I got a contract, then I'll come back in a few days and tell her I broke it on the hunt.
"What about the big a** dent in Roach?"
"I'll tell her the monster threw me into Roach. That's how I broke my wrist! She'll never know I broke it jumping off the roof!"
"But Geralt--!"
"She's not going to know! She's not going to know!"
"She's going to know!"
"How is she going to know!"
"Because she's standing right behind you!"
Geralt whipped around just in time for Yennefer to take him by the ear and shake him like a naughty dog.
"You, you....kn*bheads!" she shouts, grabbing Jaskier as well before he could run off, "You sawdust-brained dumba**es!"
Then she's dragging them both inside by their ears, berating them the entire time. They shuffle along awkwardly to either side of her, hunched over, their progress punctuated by a steady stream of 'Owowow!'s
Yennefer lets go of Jaskier long enough to open the back door, then grabs him by the back of his shirt as he tries to make a run for it, and swings him inside. Geralt is the last one in, dragged inside by the ear, clawing at the door frame like the last desperate horror movie victim.
The trampolines are put away, possibly never to be seen again, and Geralt's wrist is fixed. Several days later, he and Jaskier are out in the driveway, fixing the dent in the side of Roach, while Yennefer sits on the porch, watching to make sure they don't do anything stupid. Again.
#the witcher#the witcher netflix#twn#the witcher headcanon#the witcher modern au#geralt#geralt of rivia#yennefer#yennefer of vengerberg#jaskier#julian alfred pankratz#geraskier#geraskefer#geraskifer#yenskier#yennskier#yennaskier#yenneskier#error 404 brain not found headcanon#error 404 headcanon#brain not found headcanon
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“ you need to distract me. do something, anything. ” for geraskier please!!
Thank you so much for the prompt and sorry this took a while!
CW for blood and injury, stitching up wounds
wc 967
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The scent of blood invaded Geralt's nose. It was everywhere. The worst was around his left leg, where Jaskier's trousers had been shredded by the wolf's claws. They had not long left Vorune, and had decided to take a lesser travelled path through the woods to save time. He heard them coming but Jaskier wasn't quick enough. He was halfway up the tree when one locked its jaws around his ankle and pulled him down to the ground. Geralt dispatched of it quickly, but not before it sunk it's claws into him and by that time the damage had already been done. Sweaty and pale, Jaskier tried to prop himself up to look down at the wound.
“Don't look,” the witcher reprimanded. He did as he was told, laying back down on the ground with a whimper. Eyes closed, breathing shallow. Geralt had to think fast. Jaskier was far more fragile than himself. Without proper care he could easily lose his leg. They weren't too far from the town. If he hurried, he could get them there before sundown.
He cleaned the wounds as best he could and tore up a shirt to bandage it. One of his. He'd be damned if Jaskier yelled at him for ruining a perfectly good shirt after all of this. It was the best he could do, to slow the bleeding, until they got to a healer.
“This is going to hurt. I'm sorry.”
He wasn't even sure the bard was listening to him but he warned him anyway before lifting him off the ground. He tried to be as careful as he could but Jaskier still cried out as he was lifted onto Roach.
“I'm going to die. I'm going to lose my leg and then I'm gonna die-” Jaskier babbled ceaselessly.
“Not gonna happen.” Geralt settled behind him, securing one arm around him to keep him from falling. “Just hold on. It's not far.”
They raced into town, swerving to avoid passers-by as they rushed out of their way but not stopping until they reached the healer. She wasted no time bringing them in when she laid eyes on them. With practised hands, she cut away at the bandage and frabric of his trousers to reveal the damage. The bite on his ankle would heal mostly on it's own. Though she advised to keep it clean and bandaged until it did. The wound on his leg, however, would need stitching. The cut was deep, running across the side of his calf. It would be a long and painful healing process. She poured clear liquid into a glass tumbler.
“Here, drink this,” she instructed as she passed it over to Jaskier.
“What is it?” He asked, tipping the contents back and immediately letting out a surprised cough.
“Vodka. Best I can do at the moment, I'm afraid. But it'll help with the pain while I stitch you up.”
The bard frowned at the glass.
“Got any more?”
“Need you at least semi-coherent,” she replied, taking the glass away, “can't be wondering whether you've passed out from blood loss or alcohol on top of everything else.”
Whatever witty reply Jaskier was about to say died in his throat as she prodded at the wound. At the sight of the needle his eyes grew impossibly wide and he quickly turned his face away.
“Geralt,” he said through gritted teeth, “you need to distract me. Do something, anything.”
He didn't know what to do. Jaskier needed emotional support. So he said the first thing he could think of.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I took Ciri ice skating?”
The bard let out a strained laugh that was almost a sob.
“Only about a million times.”
Shit. It was the best story he had for things like this. Guess he'd used it one too many times.
“Could just tell it again,” he shrugged. It made Jaskier laugh more, and then they were both reprimanded by the healer for making Jaskier move around too much.
“Don't make me laugh, it hurts,” the bard whined.
The old story flowed out of him just as it had a million times before. Jaskier had the courtesy to smile and nod at the appropriate times, despite probably being able to recite the whole thing himself. He ignored the small whimpers of pain for Jaskier's benefit, as they both did their best to ignore what the healer was doing. Jaskier reached out for his hand which Geralt took without a word.
The story was cut short. Even Geralt was tired of hearing it. But the stitching wasn't done and Geralt still had a job to do.
“Around Kaer Morhen, it freezes in the winter. You could come up. Skate with us.”
“Don't know how,” he whispered.
“I could teach you. Or Ciri for that matter. She always skated rings around me.”
“Always been terrifyingly competent, that girl.”
It was the last he spoke, the pain and blood-loss making him weak and nauseous. While his hand still gripped his tight, Geralt carried on talking. About winter, about Kaer Morhen, about how they would spend their time with small anecdotes thrown in. Nothing particularly interesting to Geralt but it kept the bard's eyes on him. That was enough.
“There we are. Done.”
“Oh thank fuck.” Jaskier's eyes closed and his hand slipped from Geralt's as he brought it up to wipe the sweat from his brow.
“Though there'll be no ice skating for a while,” she said as she washed her hands in a basin, “or walking for that matter. I'd prefer it if you stayed in town for a few days at least. So that I can keep an eye on it as it heals.”
“Yes. Perfect. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to pass out now.”
#the witcher#the witcher fanfiction#geraskier#geraskier fanfiction#geralt of rivia#jaskier#geralt x jaskier#hurt/comfort#faye writes
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My Dearest Love, I'm Not Done Yet - Jaskier Imagine [The Witcher]
Title: My Dearest Love, I'm Not Done Yet
Pairing: Jaskier X Reader
Based On: In the Woods Somewhere
Word Count: 978 words
Warning(s): reference to major character death, hallucination
Summary: Jaskier thought his world was crumbling when he lost (Y/n). Maybe it wasn't just his world; maybe his mind was following it.
Author's Note: This is... so dramatic.
HOZIER [2014] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST
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The night was a deceptive thing.
It could make shapes out of nothingness and sounds out of silence. It enjoyed tricking innocent minds. It enjoyed luring them into seeing realities that weren't there.
Jaskier was simply the latest victim of the night's games.
He had no reason to be awake that night other than the thoughts plaguing him.
He accepted that sleep was not going to be part of his evening. Instead, he sat awake in his bed, mindlessly humming a tune that he couldn't remember thinking of. All of his thoughts felt so far away. Nothing around him felt real.
He could have sworn that he had been crying. But when he finally felt like he was able to move his hand up to wipe his face, the skin had dried. He had run out of tears to cry. He almost laughed at the idea.
He wanted this to be a rare occurrence, but it was becoming more and more common for him to spend nights exactly like this.
Ever since he lost (Y/n).
(Y/n) was a light that the world was much darker without. They had spent so much time reminding Jaskier how much they loved him. They listened to every nonsense song he sang. They laid with him at night. Held him, touched him, loved him.
Their death was sudden and unfair. Like a candle being snubbed out.
Jaskier had imagined them dying together. Ideally, lying in a bed together, sharing gentle kisses until the hand of death touched them both. That way, they would remain intertwined for all of eternity.
Jaskier would love to say that the first night was the worst. That it was the longest that he had spent crying and cursing whatever entity put them on this earth just to die.
But to know what the worst was, one had to begin getting better. That fate hadn't been offered to him yet.
This night in particular had been terrible.
It was the first night he had run out of tears. The first night that he accepted the absence of sleep. The first night that the tune leaving his mouth wasn't a broken, desperate cry for a return of love.
His grief was interrupted by a yell outside. He stopped singing and listened. There was another loud yell.
He could have sworn that he heard his name.
He pushed himself off of the bed and walked over to the window.
He caught sight of something turning around and running into the woods. Something... it was (Y/n). They were still wearing the same clothing he had last seen them in.
Jaskier didn't think to question it.
He took off through the door. He ran through the streets to the woods. He tried to follow the path he had seen (Y/n) go in.
He heard a laugh ahead of him. The same laugh that used to bring a smile to his face in the darkest of times. Even now. He had craved the sound of that laugh for so long.
The trees broke way to a clearing.
Jaskier froze in the middle. He frantically spun in a circle. (Y/n) was nowhere to be seen.
"I saw you," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "I... I know that I saw you. I saw you and I heard you laugh! Why are you hiding from me?"
A hand touched his back.
He turned around and his eyes finally found (Y/n).
He let out a shaky sigh of relief.
"(Y/n)," he said quietly.
(Y/n) smiled at him. "Hello, Jaskier."
Their hand came up to touch the side of his face. Another sigh escaped him as his hands moved up to hold it against his skin. He had needed this. This touch and affection. The smile and the eyes that brought him so much love that he thought it may suffocate him.
"I've missed you," he whispered.
"I missed you too," (Y/n) replied.
He scrambled as (Y/n)'s hand pulled away from him.
"Lay with me," they instructed simply, moving to lay on their back in the grass of the clearing.
"Here?"
"I could think of no better place."
Jaskier had no energy to argue with the one he had loved for so long. He was suddenly realizing how tired he had been for so long.
He collapsed to his knees. His body slowly crawled along the length of (Y/n)'s body until his head rested against their collarbone and his arms wrapped tightly around their torso. He slumped against them, so desperate for a night of rest that wasn't tainted by nightmares.
(Y/n) ran a hand through his hair. They quietly hushed him as a sob racked his body. He clung to them tighter.
"I love you," they said to him. So quiet. Like it was a secret that must be kept between the two of them.
"I love you too, my darling," he mumbled, pressing his lips to their skin in the hopes of grounding himself. "I will always love you, my darling."
Anyone who saw Jaskier that night would consider him mad. He was lying on the grass, attempting to hide his face in the crook of a neck that didn't exist. Trying to cling to a body that had long since become one with the very earth he was laying on.
In the morning, Jaskier would wake in that clearing alone. His knuckles would be white from trying to hold onto (Y/n) for a few moments longer. He would blink the sleep from his eyes and find nothing around him. He would push himself from the ground and retrace his steps out of the trees.
He would spend day and night wishing to be haunted by that vision again and again and again.
For that strange vision in the woods was the one true peace he would know for the rest of his days.
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#jaskier imagine#jaskier fanfiction#jaskier x reader#the witcher x reader#the witcher fanfiction#the witcher imagine#imagine#fanfiction#x reader#joey batey imagine#joey batey fanfiction#joey batey x reader
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Are you taking requests actually? I want to know if Jaskier ever or often patches up geralt’s wounds
ETA: CORRECTION! THANK YOU ANON. PLEASE REBLOB THIS ONE FOLKS.
Hi Elsa! So here I am apologizing again to a tumblr fren for how long I take. But I really do open a gdoc and pick away at these for months. Hopefully they are worth the wait.
So. Here is your next installment of ...
I Can't Believe It's Not Fanon: facts that sound like Geraskier fic writers made them up, but that are in fact, book canon.
'Bandaging each other up' edition.
In Geraskier fic, the ‘’bandaging each other up” trope is wildly popular. That just makes sense. Geralt has a dangerous job + we all want them to show each other care and tenderness. Restrained yearning while touching is a great combo.
Now, is it book canon? (drumroll please)
Yes folks. It's canon.
They both patch each other up at least once that is mentioned. The time Geralt bandages Dandelion is much more dramatic so I'll focus there first:
Geralt does patch Dandelion up. And while it isn’t just like fanon (there are no kisses) it is an incredibly pivotal moment for Geralt. Seeing Dandelion get hurt and put at risk, fucks Geralt up so badly that it leads to one of the most iconic scenes in the series. It also portrays one of my most beloved tropes of all time. I will get into all that.
Also, as a bonus, the way their friends react to Dandelion’s (relatively) minor injury, is so fucking funny and cute. There is this fanon going around, (I saw a post I can’t find now) where Jaskier gets minorly injured and the wolves fuss over him and make a big deal over his bravery. XD It’s very cute.
And actually.
That is canon. Only instead of the wolves, it’s the hansa. (For the uninitiated, the hansa is an iconic group of friends who wander the continent through a war hellscape with Geralt to help him find Ciri)
Ok *clears throat* here is what happens when Dandelion is injured. I talked about this part a bit in my “Geralt being extremely protective of Dandelion” post, but I have something new to say about it, I promise.
So, in Baptism of Fire, Geralt and Dandelion are on the same horse, fleeing an enemy. They are in a clearing, and are trying to make it to a forest for tree cover. Geralt is riding in front, and Dandelion is holding onto Geralt for dear life in the back. If they are caught and overpowered, it would mean certain death. In that context, here is how Dandelion is injured:
When hope dawned that they might just make it, the night air suddenly sang with a whistle of fletchings. Dandelion yelled, this time very loudly indeed, and dug his fingers into Geralt’s sides. The Witcher felt something warm dripping onto his neck.
Uh oh. Bard down. What does Geralt do?
“Hold on!” he shouted, catching the poet by the elbow and drawing him closer to his own back. “Hold on Dandelion!”
So first, he draws Dandelion closer, hoping he can cling to his back. And how does Dandelion react? Well, Dandelion has been hurt before, when the djinn got him. But that was magical. There was no blood involved. No one has ever made him bleed his own blood before. So, he panics.
“They’ve killed me!” the poet howled, impressively loudly for a dead man. “I’m bleeding! I’m dying!”
The tongue in cheek humor is one of the hallmarks of the witcher books. But yeah. The poor guy utterly panics. They almost make it into the cover of some woods when Dandelion pitches backwards off the horse.
The poet thudded onto the dirt and lay still, groaning pathetically. His head and left shoulder were covered in blood, and glistened black in the moonlight.
Now, this part I've discussed. The next part is where we see how it makes Geralt feel to see Dandelion harmed like that.
The witcher sprang up, feeling a swelling wave of cold fury and hatred inside him...he wanted to kill.
Seeing Dandelion attacked makes him feel cold fury and homicidal rage. So he faces their pursuers and kills the leading rider in a grotesque way, by way of a blade into his open mouth up to the hilt. (Geralt is an intense motherfucker when you hurt someone he loves) Then he goes back to his friend.
“Dandelion! Where were you hit? Where is the arrow?”
“In my head, it’s stuck in my head.”
“Don’t talk nonsense! Bloody hell, you were lucky. It only grazed you.”
“I’m bleeding...”
Dandelion has never been shot before, so he thinks the pain means the arrow is stuck in his head. Geralt is massively relieved. And then Geralt does something that we do see a lot in fanon.
Geralt removed his jerkin and tore off a shirtsleeve. The point of the quarrel had caught Dandelion above the ear, leaving a nasty looking gash extending to his temple. The poet kept bringing his shaking hand up to the wound and then looking at the blood, which was profusely spattering his hand and cuffs. His eyes were vacant.
So Geralt takes off his own jerkin so he can get to his shirtsleeve and he tears his own clothing to get ready to bandage Dandelion. Dandelion is in shock. His eyes are vacant.
And here’s the part that really gets me.
The witcher realized he was dealing with a person who, for the first time in his life, had been wounded and was in pain. Who, for the first time was seeing his own blood in such quantities.
Now, again, Dandelion was horrifically wounded by the djinn. But it was magical and he was cured. But this is the first time he is bleeding from a wound. And to me it is so crucial that this is the thought that Geralt has. Despite the fact that he’s closer to a hundred years old than fifty, and has been injured countless times, he never loses sight of the fact that his friend doesn’t have the same experience of physical suffering that he does. (I’ll come back to that). Now. Back to the story.
“Get up,” he said, wrapping the shirtsleeve quickly and clumsily around the troubadour’s head. “It’s nothing, Dandelion. It’s only a scratch. Get up, we have to get out of here fast.”
So Geralt wraps up his wound. But since they are in the middle of a battle zone and he is emotional, it is quick and clumsy and he's trying to calm him. And now he needs to get him to safety.
Dandelion managed to get up, but immediately sat down again, groaned and sobbed pitifully. The witcher lifted him to his feet, shook him back to consciousness and hauled him into the saddle.
Geralt mounted behind the wounded poet and spurred the horse east...
So, he reassures him, rips his own clothes to bandage him and he tosses him on the horse for safety. Now they ride off to find their friends, and now Geralt is behind him, holding him up.
Now, we get back to the hansa. If you don’t know hansa, there is Milva, who I have profiled here. She is a very tough archer who has been through a lot of shit and can beat your ass. There is Cahir, (nothing like tv Cahir) who used to be a soldier. So. Also a warrior. And we have Regis, a several centuries old vampire who can go from genteel to deadly in the blink of an eye. (we don’t have Angouleme yet). I'd be willing to wager that Dandelion is the baddest ass poet on the continent. But compared to Geralt and the other members of the hansa, he is a soft squishy little wet kitten, and they rarely let him forget it.
When Geralt reunites with them, Regis bandages up Dandelion with a real bandage. Regis is a barber/surgeon and very good at field medicine.
And the way Regis talks to Dandelion is so sweet. Like, there is an inherent ridiculousness but to me it is so goddamn touching. Here he is treating him:
“Be brave, Dandelion.”
Dandelion was brave.
“Almost done here,” Regis said, setting about bandaging the victim’s head. “Don’t you worry, Dandelion., you’ll be right as rain. The wound is just right for a poet, Dandelion. You’ll look like a war hero, with a proud bandage around your head, and the hearts of the maidens looking at you will melt like wax. Yes, a truly poetic wound. Unlike an abdominal wound for instance. Liver all cut up, kidneys and guts mangled, stomach contents and faeces pouring out, peritonitis...Right, that’s done.”
It is so comedic how he talks to a grown man like a child but it's genuinely touching to me because there is real compassion in it. They may have suffered far worse (Regis has been quite literally torn apart), but they still are so proud of him for dealing with his wound. Also, he knows to appeal to two of Dandelion’s biggest priorities; good poetry and impressing women.
Then, we really see the emotional effects of Geralt seeing Dandelion injured like that.
Right after this happens, Geralt tries to drive his friends away. He says his mission (they are trying to find Ciri in a war zone) is too dangerous for them. He gives his “I’m going it alone now, you can all leave” speech. Dandelion has no intention of leaving him and sasses the fuck out of him, shading him in a very accurate way, as he does.
“It only concerns you,” Dandelion repeated slowly. “You don’t need anybody. Company impedes you and slows down your journey. You don’t expect help from anybody and you have no intention of relying on anybody. Furthermore, you love solitude. Have I forgotten anything?”
And Geralt’s response shows us how badly Dandelion’s injury had him fucked up. He replies to Dandelion:
“Had that arrow passed an inch to the right, you idiot, the rooks would be pecking out your eyes now. You’re a poet and you’ve got an imagination; so try imagining a scene like that...”
That arrow, that close call on Dandelion's life really shook Geralt. Though he always worried about them, Dandelion’s injury was the inciting event for him to try to push away his friends in order to protect them. But of course no one leaves him. They make him sit down and chop vegetables for the iconic fish stew scene. Ok, now back to the ‘everyone is proud of Dandelion for his injury’ trope.
The group reunites with Zoltan Chivay, their dwarf friend, and he shouts and embraces Dandelion.
“Dandelion, alive and kicking, even if your skull is bandaged! And what do you say, you bloody busker, about this latest melodramatic banality? Life, it turns out, isn’t poetry! And do you know why? Because it’s so resistant to criticism!”
I love how all of these warrior/soldier/badass types love to tease him about being a poet. It’s the kind of teasing that shows affection and indicates that they consider him part of their group, even though his gifts are different than theirs. Then later, Milva talks about how she misjudged Dandelion and how he is a hero.
“I saw how Dandelion puts on a brave face: but thought him weak, soft, not used to hardship. I was just waiting for him to give up and we’d have to offload him...Now just look: Dandelion’s the hero...”
But of course, Dandelion cannot just be cool about the attention he’s getting. He has to make ballads about himself.
Dandelion followed behind Regis and Geralt on Pegasus, with a bandaged head and a warlike mien. As he rode, the poet composed a heroic ballad...the song clearly implied that the author and performer had been the bravest of the brave during the adventures.
The man just cannot. Be. Cool. About it. But I think it’s cute they all let him preen and they don't tell him to stfu about a damn grazing of the head. XD That's true friendship. True love.
So, can I tell you about what really really gets me about that bit though?
Geralt, our main character, has been abused and traumatized in every way imaginable. He has been tortured, assaulted, discriminated against, experimented on, beat to shit, and people are always trying to kill him.
In my experience, people who are traumatized can sometimes resent people who have had an easier life. They can begrudge other people their comparative innocence, freedom, or ignorance. It’s human. It happens.
So when there is a fictional character (Geralt) who is that traumatized, and they meet someone comparatively sheltered (Dandelion has been beaten for sure, but it's hard to compete with Geralt's experience with harrowing violence), and instead of resenting that person, their instinctive emotional reaction is an undying, almost pathological determination to protect the more sheltered person, that gets to me. It hits me directly where I live.
The compassion and empathy it takes to have a wound like a crater and instead of begrudging other people their relative safety, you dedicate your life to preventing them from getting a scratch, that is profound. And when I see it in a fictional character, I fall in love with them. That’s it. I just hand them my heart. It also sort of implies to me a sense of vulnerability. An instinctive desire for healing. When you can heal someone else and it makes you feel good, isn’t that like wanting healing for yourself? It makes me ache.
Girl help, I’m in my feelings again about Geralt of Rivia.
Dandelion helps Geralt Sew His Wounds
Now, the fanon of Jaskier patching up Geralt is not on the page in book canon. He must have helps him with smaller injuries from time to time, just by sheer necessity given how many years they travel together. And while he hates murder and gore, I imagine he can handle small wounds. But that isn’t on the page.
CORRECTION: AND IT IS ON THE PAGE.
Thanks to a lovely reader/observant anon who reminded me AND hunted down the passage, it is mentioned at least once that Dandelion helps Geralt with suturing a wound. In Sword of Destiny p227:
" Just before the girl arrived, Geralt had poured a coagulating elixir on his mutilated forearm, and boosted it with an anaesthetic elixer, and Essi had caught them just as he and Dandelion were suturing the wound using a fishing line tied to a hook."
Now, other times, when Geralt is very probably-would-have-been mortally wounded (after the striga, or after the redacted), Jaskier is not physically present, and once someone else helps Geralt because they are much better equipped to do so. On the page, it is always usually women who put Geralt back together: priestesses, sorceresses, or dryad healers.
The women in Geralt’s life challenge him in various ways, and their respect is sometimes hard earned. But they are always there when he needs them. They are all powerful or learned healers. And Yennefer specifically tries to think of his health. She indirectly pressures people to pay Geralt more for jobs so he has more of wages for medical expenses. It is touching, AND really important how it places Geralt and witchers as part of the working class.
Dandelion constantly defends Geralt. Geralt is his specialest boye. But he never bandages Geralt in the books. And he also canonically helps him suture his wounds.
So, this one is 50/50. Half canon half fanon. It's canon, folks.
ALSO, that story, (A Little Sacrifice, which is a short story in Sword of Destiny) is PEAK domestic Geraskier/Gerlion. They pool their money and get in brawls together, and they share a bed and clothing. They also philosophize, psychoanalyze each other, bicker, and swear not to leave each other when they get into trouble out on a hunt. If you don't want to, or can't read the books, I recommend that one short story.
The "male gaze" is heavy (most people's critique of The Witcher books is very true) in that story. The mermaids breasts are described at least twice every time she makes an appearance. But the story IS really fucking delightful and you get so much insight into Geralt and his friendship with Dandelion is in top form. Also, I adore Essi, and she is in that story.
Anyway, thanks again to the eagle eyed anon. I usually try to qualify "that is not in the books" with "that I remember" since my brain is so fallible. But I really thought I would have noticed something like that! Goes to show.
And I think it's HYSTERICAL that the ONE time I write that Gerlion DON'T entirely behave like they're in a fanfic, is the time that I'm wrong XD.
#the witcher#geraskier#geralt of rivia#jaskier#gerlion#i can't believe it's not fanon#canon or fanon#asks#the witcher books
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The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.5
(canon typical violence below, mild)
Jaskier's breath caught in his throat and made him stumble. Unable to intervene he had to watch Aiden cast the familiar blue shock wave at the group of soldiers behind them. At once the men in front were thrown back, crashing into their fellow soldiers and creating a loud ruckus that made Jaskier's ears ring. Wind caught his hair, blinding him momentarily, as he cursed Aiden for his stupidity.
While the burst of Aard had certainly helped them to gain some distance from the soldiers, they could just have split up earlier than planned, to achieve the exact same thing. It took the soldiers hardly a minute before they were up and running again, this time yelling orders at each other about Aiden not being the White Wolf, but another witcher and therefore their new priority. Aiden who, despite him insisting on the opposite, was not yet fully recovered and still struggled with both his balance and restricted vision. Him being their primary target was a very bad, not good thing that would definitely lead to some unavoidable consequences. Jaskier cursed again, grabbed the witcher by his knotted sleeve and tucked him forcefully to the left, where the street parted into a busy crossroad. “Why on earth would you do that?!” He demanded to know, dodging a farmer's cart by a hair's length and pulling Aiden with him. The Cat could only look at him bewildered, Jaskier's worries completely flying past his head.
With a loud groan, the bard realized that Aiden, like every other damned witcher he had met before, had absolutely no sense for protecting himself. Jaskier had no idea, why he had thought otherwise in the first place. In that regard they all proved to be idiots again and again.
Finally reaching the market after what felt like forever, Jaskier zigzagged through the groups of people until he couldn't see the soldiers anymore. “Alright, we're splitting up now. You're of greater importance to them, because those prejudiced piss pots think you are stronger than me.” Aiden raised his eyebrows at that, but Jaskier didn't give him time to argue. “So don't get caught, alright? Be as inconspicuous as possible, disguise yourself if you can. I mean it, Aiden, I am not walking up that mountain on my own, because I will perish of boredom if you're not with me.”
“Whoa, there, shouldn't I be the one that worries about you?” The witcher asked, with a lopsided grin on his face. “You are a tiny, little human, after all.” Jaskier took a deep breath and let the imaginary weight fall off his shoulders. He knew he tended to be overprotective over his friends and family, but Aiden was right, he shouldn't worry too much about the other man. Cats were known for their excellent stealth. He'd probably scale the next building and hide away in the shadows of the rooftops until it was time for the two of them to meet at the other side of the city, were it adjoined the forest.
Feeling a little better about their situation, he grinned back at the witcher, “See you at sun-high.” And with one last wave, he dove into the crowds.
From then on everything felt a little bit easier. He was back in his element. Passing errand boys, dodging groups of chattering wives and stepping out of the way of heavily laden errand boys, Jaskier easily put more and more distance between him in the troop of soldiers, who's redanian armor made them stand out like donkeys among sheep. It was actually quite funny to watch them, how they stumbled around, fishing for some sort of authority the didn't have in a country that wasn't theirs. A troop of redanian soldiers against a single kaedweni innkeeper was one thing, but seeing them trying and failing to shoo away the three old women that were gossiping in front of a young lad that looked somewhat similar to Jaskier was the height of entertainment.
Despite his colorful outfit and obvious lute bag, hardly anyone spared him more than a glance. No matter what Geralt said, walking through a city with just enough confidence to look like you belonged there, but not too much to stand out, was an art form in itself. Truth be told, Jaskier might've only believed so because it took him years to perfect this skill. He was an expert in it now, though and when one of his pursuers came a bit too close to him, he calmly kept on walking, passing the man with just two other people between them. He followed the natural flow of people for a while, discreetly taking down every Wanted Notice with his name on it. Every now and then he tried to look up the rafters and roofs of houses that seemed rather climbable, without appearing too suspicious, but he never saw a hint of his Cat.
Maybe that was for the better, he willed his anxiousness to quieten. If he wasn't here, that only meant that he was already waiting somewhere in the forest. Sun-high wasn't that far away anyways.
He helped a young mother by picking up the knot doll her child had dropped and exchanged a couple of pleasant words while they walked closer towards the forest. Saying his goodbyes with a warm smile, Jaskier stepped off the main street and into a much smaller alley that lead to a few single story houses. He took his time to pet a tricolored barn cat, just as promised, before slowly but surely merging into the slim shadows. More and more aware of his bearings, he crept along the walls of houses and sheds, turning around and pretending to take a piss against a bush when a merchant rode by. Crude but effective. The only thing left that separated him from his goal was a wide dirt rode that carved around the forest.
Standing in the shade of a wooden canopy Jaskier remained still as a statue, eyes scanning through the underbrush, ears strained for any noise that didn't belong. The problem with that being, that everything inside a forest made noise and trying to figure out which once were normal sounds and which weren't usually fell into Geralt's domain. With his witcher hearing he could not only make out a rustling bush, but also listen for a heartbeat and identify it as either animal, human or monster. There was also the fact that Jaskier's sense of smell couldn't pick up anything than the stink of fox and the giant dung heap nearby.
In the end he just had to trust his instincts. And his instincts were telling him to worry.
It didn't take long for him to realize why.
It wasn't the forest that was off, it was the road. The sun was high in the sky, just starting to change from comfortably warm to hot, the market was full with all kinds of people and yet the road was empty. No wagons, no riders, not a single person to be seen. Someone was blocking off the path. Someone that held no authority over a crowd but could easily scare away any passerby. It could be a trap of course, but Jaskier had spent enough time singing in the barracks of Redania to know how they usually operated. The bard had always had a strong dislike for soldiers. Few of them were decent people these days. There was hardly anything knightly or chivalrous about them, as if they forgot what they were fighting for. Unlike them, Jaskier hadn't allowed himself to be controlled by his disdain and had followed his orders properly. Singing and performing in the barracks, listening in to every conversation that would meet his ears. He had learned a lot, almost too much, about how the soldiers really worked behind their pretenses. Cordoning off an area just big enough people on the outside wouldn't make out the noise their prisoners made when they were beat to a pulp, was certainly one of their favorites. There was an advantage though, Jaskier thought as he emerged from the canopy and walked right into the forest, nobody would be able to hear them screaming either. The only thing that kept him from smiling was the knowledge that whatever they had done to his Cat Witcher wouldn't be pretty.
And it really wasn't.
The camp, counting six tents and four horses, was built around an old tree, its trunk wide enough to withstand the hissing and spitting Cat Witcher that was chained to it. His linen shirt was torn during a fight, deep irregular gashes cut through his chest, the witcher's blood soaking into his clothes and the bandages underneath. Aiden was screaming with rage, struggling against his bindings without any sense to it, throwing his head from left to right, snapping his teeth at everyone that dared to come too close. His fangs were bloody, successful. To Jaskier's eyes it was almost alarmingly obvious that Aiden's aggression was mainly caused by pure fear and pain. The witcher's instincts had clearly taken over. He didn't even react to the bard when said one entered the camp. Five soldiers, one archer, turned towards him.
Oh I know. I know you want Jaskier to fight, but please take note, should you choose this, the next chapter will be detailed and violent. (and 100% skipable of course! I know not everyone likes to read that sort of stuff, don't worry, I got you!) The author craves blood.
Negotiating is always an option to keep this pg.
Also there's now a relationship bar in the drawing, so: Aiden/Lambert is set in stone for this fic, but Aiden/Jaskier or Aiden/Jaskier/Lambert is up to you, I will give you multiple chances for this, so don't worry.
please like and reblog if you voted✨🌿🌼✨
Told my brother about J and A hiding in the crowd of the market and he said „Erstmal ein Marktfrühstück und eine Weinschorle bestellen.“ and I was so tempted.
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