Tumgik
#soft jaskier
samstree · 2 years
Text
Being loved by Geralt is easy.
After the mountains, after wounds are healed and lost brothers mourned, Geralt shows his love, and it’s easy as breathing.
He approaches Jaskier with a cup of mulled wine and takes him to the highest tower of Kaer Morhen. The stars blink amongst the green northern lights, and Jaskier is warm between the wine and the arms around his back.
Under the night sky, Geralt tells Jaskier of his love for the very first time.
Both of them return to Geralt’s hearth-lit chamber with red cheeks and glistening eyes, and they laugh and kiss and fall into bed together. Jaskier drifts off with a smile and dreams of a future with Geralt’s hand in his.
When morning comes, Geralt promises to do better. Guilt should be left in the past, Jaskier wants to argue, but the promise seems equally important to Geralt himself, so Jaskier listens carefully with his palm pressed against the slow-beating heart of his witcher. He’s always trusted Geralt with his life, and now his heart too. Despite all the broken parts of it, he trusts Geralt with his heart.
And Geralt keeps his promise.
He is not perfect—neither of them is, really—but he tries so hard with his imperfect, clumsy love. There are quiet nights when Geralt’s kisses span across Jaskier’s back, counting the specks of birthmarks with his lips. It’s a constellation, he says. They guide me home, like you.
There is also his infuriating protectiveness, his heartbreaking self-hatred. It drives Jaskier away, but never far and never for long. Soft apologies always follow, soothing away all that is angry and difficult between them. There are separations and reunions, messy tears and joyful laughter.
Geralt’s love is easy. So, Jaskier wonders.
Nothing is easy by nature. A witcher’s skills are honed through decades of training, through every swing of his blade, every parry, every kill. It’s why the ease of Geralt’s movement is a terrifying sight for his foes. If handling Jaskier’s heart looks easy, he must have gotten the practice somewhere.
The answer comes one day when Jaskier is alone. His hand slips on the strap of Geralt’s pack and all the notebooks within spill out on the floor.
There is a red book, sprawled open with its pages full of Geralt’s lean, neat writing. Jaskier’s eyes are caught by his own name between those lines.
It’s a notebook he’s watched Geralt use countless times while lazily resting his head on Geralt’s thigh and trying to draw his attention.
“What are you writing?” Jaskier asked once. “Another one of your boring bestiaries?”
“Boring bestiaries save lives.” Geralt looked down, putting down the quill. “And no, it’s not a bestiary.”
“What is it then?”
Jaskier remembered all Geralt’s notebooks: the green ones titled Herbs, the brown ones with Monsters and Locations written across the first page. He didn’t recognize the red one. A secret book, then. It only made him more curious.
“Nothing,” Geralt answers, putting the book down to join Jaskier in the nest of tangled sheets. “Just…thoughts.”
“Thoughts about me?” Jaskier asked cheekily. “Love thoughts?”
“Hmm.”
At the time, Jaskier teased but did not pry. Geralt rarely gets to keep things for himself, and Jaskier delighted in the fact that Geralt could find comfort in keeping a journal.
Now, as the notebook lays open on the ground, Jaskier finds his name all over it. He picks it up and flips to the first page, and finds the title. It’s just one word, one name.
Jaskier.
A book written in his name. A book he never gets to read.
When he flips another page, the entries begin with lists of food. Fruits, pastries and wines, followed by stores to buy the best of them in Ard Carraigh. The combination rings a bell, reminding him of a surprise picnic a while ago. He marveled at how Geralt could gather such a feast without him knowing, and only got an absent hum as reply.
The next page records another date of theirs, detailing Geralt’s careful preparations even though the words are scribbled and crossed out at times.
There are other things. Thoughts.
Thoughts of love, of regret and hope, pride and fear. These are thoughts of Jaskier and their future.
He read slowly as if holding Geralt’s heart between his hands, skipping some passages when the emotions grow too tender, making him ache at the self-doubt that bleeds through these pages.
He has no reason to stay. Jaskier reads on, his heart breaking. And yet he does. I don’t know how to deserve him. I don’t know if I ever will.
The notebook isn’t completed yet, and the last entry consists of the names of many towns and cities. It’s the planning of their next journey, Jaskier realizes, following the route they will travel and diverting for all the local festivals. A coastal village in Cidaris is underscored twice. Jaskier vaguely remembers mentioning its name years ago on a hot sunny afternoon. He went on about how nice the water was there, and how he dreamed of going back. It’s the same place he thought about when asking Geralt to run away with him during that dragon hunt.
Geralt wants to take him there now, after all these years.
Jaskier closes the book with a shuddering breath and puts it back into the pack. Guilt churns in his stomach for having gotten a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have.
When Geralt returns, Jaskier has tidied up the mess. He puts on a smile and hugs his witcher close. Tears prickle his eyes still, and the attempt to hide them fails spectacularly.
“Hey,” Geralt says, confused. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Jaskier’s voice breaks, and leans into the strong hands running up and down his back. “I just…love you.”
Geralt lets out a quiet oh and brings Jaskier flush against him. Even without looking, Jaskier can picture perfectly the slightly panicked frown on Geralt’s face.
“You’re upset.” Geralt murmurs gently. “Shh, it’s alright.”
“It is.” Jaskier sniffs. “You are here.”
That earns him an amused huff. Geralt continues, “you know, I just had this idea. How about we go to the coast? I heard Cidaris is nice in the summer. It’s on our way north, and it could…cheer you up?”
Geralt is so tentative, the nervousness thrumming under a thin layer of nonchalance, and Jaskier nods.
“It’s a nice thought.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jaskier pulls away to meet Geralt’s gaze, and this time, his smile is genuine. “I’ve wanted to see the coast for a long time.”
The subtle pride at the corners of Geralt’s lips is more beautiful than the sunrise at sea.
Jaskier doesn’t mention the notebook of unsaid things. It’s a book that holds all the soft parts of Geralt’s clumsy heart, and of course it’s something Jaskier will protect.
He’ll protect the quiet love Geralt bestows on him by tucking the book away in the corner of his heart. He’ll let Geralt try, and try, and try.
And Jaskier will meet him halfway.
783 notes · View notes
islenthatur · 1 year
Text
Jaskier smiled softly, hands idly twisting and braiding the hair before him with gentle nimble fingers, savoring the texture and feel as well as the soft purr that filled the room.
It was exactly what Jaskier needed after a stressful day.
"Is this alright Dearest?" He murmurs softly, fingers dropping from the braid, to run smoothly over broad shoulders to rest upon a slow beating heart of a Witcher.
"Yes," it was soft, no louder than a breath and Jaskier thanked his classically trained ears to hear it.
He has spent nearly all winter to get to this point, to have a pliant witcher in his tender loving hands. Goddess, he loved to care for them, for him, to ease their stress and burdens... it was an addiction.
"Thank you Dearheart, I appreciate you allowing me this." Jaskier purred and leant forward, capturing his witcher's lips with his own, his other hand cupping the scarred cheek with loving care.
"Jask," The name fell from his Witcher's lips like a prayer that sent a jolt of pleasure through the bard.
"Eskel."
28 notes · View notes
spielzeugkaiser · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
They have sleepy cuddles! Geralt is probably drooling. Ciri under the cut!
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
whumpypepsigal · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
#besties
1K notes · View notes
annmarcus63 · 6 months
Text
The thing is that nothing is the same, not after Lambert pointed out, in a deeply impolite manner, that Jaskier, despite his best efforts, is Geralt's whore. But no, it couldn't be, could it? They have been together for over eight years now. Yes, they sort of broke up on the mountain but they're back together now, aren't they? 
But the real problem here is not the years but the way Geralt treats their relationship. In fact, Lambert has helped him to open his eyes. 
How he treats Yen and how he treats him.
The truth is that Jaskier has made peace with the fact that he'll always be second best. That Geralt lo... cares for him but not as he cares for her. 
They say that the evil is in the details.
Geralt shows no affection to him outside the bedroom. Geralt is distant, and this has never bothered him, because he always thought that Geralt was like that with everyone else. 
He never touches him, not a pat on the arm, not a caress on the cheek, just like he's doing it now with Yen. Geralt never looks at him like that, with so much fervor and devotion. 
He doesn't even look at him like that in the bedroom, not even when the witcher is fucking into him and whispering how good he feels.
So Jaskier starts an experiment. He won't look for Geralt, he'll just wait and see. 
And oh, how he observes the unspoken words of love that Geralt holds back everytime Yen is nearby. How he'll reach out to her, only to feel her, and the way he leans closer to smell her perfume, lilacs and gooseberries. 
He wonders if Jaskies smells good to him. 
Geralt catches him looking at them, a longing expression on his face surely, and sends him a quizzical look but Jaskier shrugs it off, as if his entire heart wasn't weeping. 
And Jaskier is afraid to ask, first of all, Geralt has never reacted well to Jaskier's serious talks, so... yeah, he's afraid. 
But of course, how could he be anything more than a bed warmer when it took him twelve years to get the witcher's attention. It only took Yen an hour for Geralt to fall head over heels in love with her. 
Days passed and Jaskier stood staring at the ceiling of his bedroom waiting for Geralt, tears trickled down his pillow as he heard him pass towards Yen's room.
416 notes · View notes
aghxst · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
Little sacrifices and such. One of those rings is Essi’s right? Right.
656 notes · View notes
pixlatedvampire · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
I’d like to personally thank Joey and Anya for their roles in the iconic "that’s my wife!" scene. Making it possible for this comic and all my headcanons about how yennefer and jaskier are silly w each other to be practically canon ^-^ 🌸
I think that yennefer can strategically be so so nice to jaskier as a form of warfare as a treat 💕☺️
294 notes · View notes
jaskier literally saw an incredibly traumatized little girl and without even getting the full story he slowly approached and got down to her level and gently and softly tried to tell her who he was I am literally going to cry HIS WEAPON IN THIS WORLD IS EMPATHY ITS ALWAYS BEEN EMPATHY
Tumblr media
681 notes · View notes
ghostcupdraws · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Witchers need taking care of too
6K notes · View notes
artistsfuneral · 9 months
Text
Geralt is imprisoned, waiting to be trialed by the local Duchess, when the cell door opens and Jaskier appears, teasing him for getting into trouble again. Geralt, who certainly wasn't expecting to see his friend, asks why it's him and not the Duchess, to which Jaskier replies something like "Goodness Geralt, that woman is 64 years old, you can't really expect her to travel to town every time a prisoner needs to be judged!" Which no, of course not, most of the time it wouldn't even fall into a aristocrats responsibilities at all, but given the fact that Jaskier is currently leading him out of his cell, Geralt is hardly in a position to argue. But Jaskier is here now, no matter how unexpected the situation is, and there is a carriage waiting for them and Geralt blindly follows his friend into it. Surely Jaskier knows what he's doing.
The bard is babbling as always, when he complains that Geralt rudely interrupted tea time with the Duchess and naturally the witcher assumes that Jaskier is having an affair with her. When he tries to tease Jaskier about it (Jaskier that poor woman is 64!) the bard stops, stares and breaks into loud laughter. Turns out Jaskier was spending some quality time with his Grandmother.
When they arrive at the estate and tea time can resume, including Geralt, he discovers that she's teaching Jaskier how to knit and crochet. At the end of the day, the witcher knows how to as well. :)
309 notes · View notes
finleycannotdraw · 2 years
Text
this post from @0dde11eth inspired me lmao
go through the notes on that post to find some of the continued inspiration :)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
tl;dr sleep-cuddly geralt is a headcanon you can pry from my cold dead hands!
2K notes · View notes
spielzeugkaiser · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
Kind of a second part to this - inspired by a convo I had with @panur in the replies! Ciri comes to them for cuddles and at this point Geralt is 100% awake, but Jaskier handles it all rather well.
1K notes · View notes
heschrafn · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Buttercups for Jaskier 🌼
3K notes · View notes
Text
can we talk about Geralt breaking Riences hands. Was it because he burned Jaskiers hand probably not but i live in my delusions and think yes.
347 notes · View notes
olliethewallflower · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
319 notes · View notes
kuwdora · 11 days
Text
Tumblr media
@perseruna I LISTENED!! I MANIFESTED!!
the lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch geralt/jaskier/yennefer ~6k, explicit. d/s, sexual roleplay, banter, erotic massage. more tags on ao3.
Trouble is afoot and it will be a long evening for the White Knight.
The White Knight has been in the Queen’s service for more than half his life. He currently stands beside her royal majesty in the throne room, bearing witness to the thorn in the Queen’s side. A thorn he will be called upon to remove.
Whether he was pushing miscreants from the kingdom with his blade, doling out punishments on behalf of the Queen, or sating her majesty’s sexual desires, the White Knight fulfilled his responsibilities every day of his life. However such consistency was not common in all of the Queen's loyal subjects.
This spy in particular, a faun with broad shoulders and a nervous smile, a tufted little goatee and soft, folded ears. He has a penchant for distracting the castle guards with jovial questions about their favorite snacks. He has often derailed the White Knight's retinue from their duties with gossip from the latest winter festival.
Mr. Tammus had come into the Queen’s service only a few short years ago. The White Knight had been on assignment looking for allies to enlist to the Queen’s service. He’d ventured into the western mountains, seeking the brawn of a clan of minotaurs. It was there that he discovered Mr. Tammus beguiling the clan leader and her grandfather with a musical jig. Mr. Tammus had accidentally broken a curse that had fouled their young with human-features. Mr. Tammus could have asked for anything from the grateful clan but instead requested only shelter and their undivided attention while he performed his latest song.
Upon witnessing Mr. Tammus’ charm on the minotaurs firsthand, the White Knight knew the faun would prove useful for the Queen’s service.
Tammus indeed proved to be a valuable asset with eyes and ears in the community and borderlands, able to strike up friendships all due to his cherub-like face and penchant for outlandish tales that could enchant anyone with ears. He found secrets and gossip in the unlikeliest of places that was useful to the Queen and her royal guard.
Yet there are times where the faun’s flightiness has tested the Queen's patience.
Which is why Mr. Tammus is currently on his knees and bowing, snowmelt slipping from his hair onto the floor. read on ao3
106 notes · View notes