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#Protective Geralt
k-laconia-bug1 · 2 years
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Geralt watching a bar fight: "not my circus not my monkeys"
Sees Jaskier head get slammed
Geralt: "My CIRCUS MY MONKEYS"
Also alternatively
Jaskier listening to men gossip "not my circus not my monkeys"
They mention witchers or Geralt
Jaskier pulling up his sleeves "MY CIRCUS MY MONKEYS BITCH"
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magdelanesingerin · 3 months
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Lucky
Jaskier is lucky. He knows he is.
He’s alive. It could have been worse. Geralt got him out after only a couple of days, cutting a bloody swath through Nilfgaardian prison guards and leaving his interrogator in twitching pieces on the floor before he swooped Jaskier up in his arms and carried him to safety, cradled gingerly to his chest. He can remember feeling a detached sort of shame at the uncontrollable, shaking whine that forced its way out on every exhale until he finally passed out.  
He’s lucky. He’s alive. It could have been so much worse. 
The thought drifts across his fuzzy mind along with voices in the room, the sound of them floating through the murky, dim air as he slips in and out of a dazed, pained confusion. 
“Just heal him, Yen!” 
Ahh, that rough, low voice, so familiar, but muted now as Geralt hisses quietly and fervently in anger that sounds more like desperation.
“I told you. I. Can’t,” the equally hushed and furious reply. The cadence of their arguments is one Jaskier knows well, the building frustration and exasperation bouncing and building between them until it explodes, and they’re finally driven away from each other again. “I used too much power portalling us in and out of the prison, and that fucking mage took more effort than I planned for. I have either enough power to try to heal him —probably badly, since this is nowhere near my specialty– or to take you both safely to Oxenfurt so a qualified healer can stabilize him. Not both.”
“These are complex injuries, Wolf.” A serious, gruff voice that Jaskier doesn’t know. “These aren’t clean, simple breaks. That bone is shattered. I haven’t treated injuries like this in decades, not since there were trainees here.” 
Oh, this must be the mysterious and venerable Vesemir. Not exactly the way he planned on meeting Geralt’s father figure. In every one of Jaskier’s imaginings of this moment, he had definitely been conscious, and not covered in a crust of blood and shameful human filth. Wonderful. 
“He’s not like us,” Vesemir continued, “if she encourages the bones to heal without setting them correctly, he might never use his fingers again. It will take weeks for the pieces to fuse, months to heal completely. He needs a human physician.”
“Months!?” Geralt sounds incredulous, and Jaskier would laugh, or try to, if he could open his mouth without screaming. Bless his wonderful witcher, he has no idea of how human bodies work. 
Vesemir heaves a deep, weary sigh and Yen cuts in again, her voice tight with impatience and something unfamiliar that Jaskier can’t quite place. Fear? Guilt? Neither of those are things he’s used to hearing from Yennefer. “Yes. He’s human . And not a young man anymore,” she says flatly. 
His half-lidded eyes struggle to take in the details of the room around him; he can see the shapes of the people standing over him but can’t quite understand any of it. The breath hisses through his tightly clenched teeth as he clings to control, sounding impossibly loud. 
“An injury like this would take you a week, maybe two to heal with a couple doses of Swallow, and your body would rebuild ligaments and nerves rapidly. His won’t ,” she says, and the whole room can hear the words “you moron” tacked on to the end of her sentence. “He’ll need special care, and not just for a day–for weeks. someone who knows enough about the human hand to be able to piece this mess back together,” she finishes with a tone of frustrated disgust. But Jaskier barely notices, is too distracted by sudden focused awareness on his body brought on by her words… 
He twitches and clenches his eyes shut, trying not to imagine the sharp, twisted grin of the interrogator, the flare of pain when the man moved his attentions from one ruined finger to the next. The acrid smell of burning somewhere in the room. The breathless ache in his chest as whimpers crawled out of his body unbidden and unstoppable on every pained exhale. His head swims and he can feel his heart pounding at the memory that rises up to swallow him. 
Waves of trembling wash over him, tightening muscles in shivering surges that seem unstoppable. He must be in shock. Isn’t shock supposed to dull pain, though? If this is the pain dulled, he thinks hysterically as he tries to force his body to calm, how much worse will it be when he comes out of it? It would be easier if he could just fall fully unconscious.
“Shani. I can take him to Shani. She’s a physician and…Jaskier’s friend. She’s in Oxenfurt.”
“Can you trust her?” Vesemir asks sharply.
“Yes.”
The conversation keeps swirling around him and Jaskier loses track for a little while. Yennefer and Geralt seem to be arguing about going to Oxenfurt, and something about Ciri, but he can’t quite focus enough to take it in. He feels a chill of formless, shameful guilt anyway. He’s causing problems again. Putting them in danger again. 
And then there’s a broad hand over his forehead, smoothing his hair back gently, and Geralt’s voice, cracked and miserable, close enough to feel the warm air of this breath.
“It’s my fault. They took him to get to me. To Ciri. I should have been there sooner.” 
Jaskier usually loves when Geralt touches him like this, offering softness and comfort. It’s uncommon enough to be precious. 
Right now, the touch is too much, though, overwhelming in a way that shocks him, and he flinches away from Geralt’s palm before he can stop himself, eyelids fluttering open enough to see the wince and flash of hurt on his friend’s face as he draws his hand away.  
Geralt’s hand forms a shape in the air over his head and Jaskier feels a wave of warmth and relief wash through his body as his clenching muscles relax. “Sleep, and feel no pain, Jask.”
continue on Ao3
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hannibard · 2 months
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"I'm choking from the taste but I can't help but swallow"
Pairings: Geraskier, Radskier
Summary: "There's too much at stake Geralt, it's not worth it. Go back to Kaer Morhen and forget about me."
"You're more than worth it Jaskier and I'll do anything in my power to get you out of this hell. Melitele help anyone who stands in my way."
Jaskier is taken by Radovid in the midst of his travels with Geralt and Milva. The Redanian king, changed from his recent ascent to power, is determined to get everything he wants, with Jaskier having the misfortune of being on top of the list. Jaskier spends time serving Radovid in the Redanian court, drowning in despair and losing parts of himself in the process, his only consolation being the knowledge that his friend was safe from the Redanian army due to his sacrifice.
Sometime after Geralt has united the north under his rule, he decides to pay a visit to Redania in the hope of reuniting with his bard. But Jaskier is not as he remembers, his psyche having been fractured in their time apart. Will the witcher be able to help him escape his tragic fate?
Inspired by the song "Poison" from Hazbin Hotel
Click here to read on Ao3
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Chapter 1: How it all started
He had been traveling together with Geralt and Milva for a few months when they took him. The three had made good progress on their way to Nilfgaard, occasionally adding other skilled individuals that were willing to aid in their cause to their group, like the high vampire/surgeon Regis, and the possibility of reaching Ciri was becoming more apt with each passing day. Jaskier was, despite the sharp worry in his gut for the girl he had come to consider something akin to a daughter, relatively content.
Things were in no way easy, but at least he was (finally) at Geralt's side again. Plus, this time around he was actually able to pull his weight. Gone were the days of him being barely more than a burden that slowed the witcher down and made his life harder, as his role had been for the majority of their acquaintance.
(If life could give me one blessing-)
He had been by himself in some backwater village, because they needed to make money somehow and Jaskier was, despite all his faults, an excellent bard. His ability to be useful, even amidst such impressive individuals, filled him with pride. The others had made camp a few miles away in order to not draw attention. It was risky enough for Jaskier to make those semi-frequent appearances in the public eye, even with the new moniker he had adopted in his attempt to pass as different person. He had rarely traveled this far south in the past, so he wasn’t too worried about being recognized.
(it goes without saying that he avoided performing any songs from the vast repertoire he had created centered around his greatest muse, the White Wolf.)
His set was coming to an end, and he was looking forward to drinking an ale after gathering his earnings, before starting his long way back to his companions. He was in the middle of just that when he was approached by a hooded figure. They moved gracefully, weaving skillfully through the crowd before sitting down across the bard.
“Beautiful voice you’ve got there.” Their face was hidden in the shadow created by the hood, which was dark and modest, not carrying any identifiable markings.
Jaskier didn’t let his alarm show. “Thank you friend, I’m always one to appreciate compliments.” He took a long sip from his tankard methodically in a show of nonchalance.
The hooded figure cocked their head to the side and reached their hand out. “With talent such as yours, it’s a wonder you’re not more well-known Master…?”
Jaskier gave a bright grin, subtly wiping the sweat making its way down his forehead, and shook the stranger’s hand. Their grip was firm, and its hold lasted a bit longer than was considered socially appropriate. “The name’s Dandelion. And you are…?”
“A beautiful name to match the beautiful voice.” The figure avoided the question and tilted their head back so that their matching grin could be visible to the bard. Jaskier couldn't see their eyes, he had a nagging impression that he was being checked out from top to bottom. “Of course I can't neglect mentioning the beautiful appearance. Though if you don’t mind my humble opinion, I’d say there’s another name that would suit you more fittingly.”
The bard’s grin twitched ever so slightly. “And what would that be my dear fellow? Do say so.”
The stranger leaned forward. “Jaskier.” they said almost conspiratorially.
The bard’s smile fell all together, and he looked around with the corner of his eye. None of the inn’s patrons seemed to have heard, too busy drinking, eating and chatting loudly with each other. The innkeeper himself was curiously missing from the room.
“What do you want?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“If you want to find out then follow me and don’t make a scene. It wouldn’t benefit either of us.”
Jaskier gulped and slowly stood up. He made sure to grab his lute and not to let his nervousness show. “As you wish.”
They made their way outside, and as soon as they were out of people’s sight the stranger grabbed his arm with a strong grip that left no room for resistance, no matter how much Jaskier tried to pull away. They reached a building that stood tall in the periphery of the village, and the hooded figure surveyed their surroundings before opening the front door and pushing Jaskier inside. The force made the bard fall to his knees and he hissed in pain, his lute thankfully tucked safely against his back. He vaguely heard the door close and lock behind him just as he looked up, his mind too busy short-circuiting at the sight he came across.
“Hello darling.” said Radovid as he stood up from a makeshift throne, making his way to the bard and dropping to one knee in front of him. The newly-crowned king took Jaskier’s chin in one hand and gently stoked his cheek with the other, smiling gently. “Oh how I’ve missed you.” He said wistfully and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
Jaskier was left speechless, his brows furrowing together in confusion. He hadn’t seen Radovid since that fateful day in Aretuza after the Thanedd ball, in the midst of all the chaos. Their parting had been hopeful but it didn’t take long for Jaskier to hear about Radovid’s sudden enthronement, so he had resolved himself to the reality that their story would remain forever unfinished. His regret lessened more and more with the time he spent at his witcher’s side.
“Radov-, Y-your majesty, to what do I owe the honor of this, ah, sudden summons?” he said when he finally managed to make his mouth move.
Radovid’s eyes hardened almost imperceptibly at the bard’s term of address. He let out a defeated sigh and hung his head low. “I never once stopped thinking about you my dear, every day we spent apart was pure torture, and now that my reign has stabilized I though it was the perfect time to pay you a visit." He looked up and stared unblinkingly into the bards blue eyes. "Aren’t you happy to see me?”
Jaskier swipped his lips with his tongue, a motion that Radovid tracked hungrily. “Oh, I uh, I’m elated to see you, truly, but I’m just a tad confused. You see, your buddy over there that escorted me here, let’s just say they weren’t very gentle in their approach. In few words and with no offense, it left a lot to be desired. I was expecting to encounter some sort of Nilfgaardian general ready to chop my head off and not… you.”
Radovid huffed and offered a hand to Jaskier, helping him up. Now that Jaskier was somewhat over his initial surprise he was able to take in the king’s appearance. There were some subtle changes, like the short beard that had replaced his previously clean-shaven face, his once lean body seemed to have filled with muscle, but the biggest change, the one that made Jaskier’s breath catch in his throat, was in his eyes.
Before, Radovid’s eyes were like a window to his soul that only Jaskier had a key to, full of intelligence and softness, specifically towards his person, but now… Now his gaze was guarded. The only thing Jaskier could detect besides the current show of the king’s emotions, was darkness. It was something he was only able to decipher after his years of experience performing in countless courts and dealing with all sorts of people in his travels. It caused a chill to run down his spine.
“You don’t have to worry about Nilfgaard any more my love, you won’t have to deal with them ever again.” Radovid said as he patted down the outrageously large fur that hung from his shoulders.
Jaskier blinked rapidly a few times and raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean by that Your Majesty?”
Radovid looked at him as though he’d asked a very stupid question. “Redania’s power has grown vastly in recent months as I’m sure you’ve heard. Nilfgaard wouldn’t dare take a single step towards us. Also please cut all the ‘Your Majesty’s, our relationship has evolved beyond such formalities.”
Jaskier nodded tentatively “I’ve certainly heard about your accomplishments, but I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”
Radovid rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “You’re coming with us silly.”
Jaskier’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He had been bombarded by shock after shock in such quick succession that he hadn’t been able to calm his racing mind in a minute.
“I appreciate the offer, truly, Your Majes- Radovid.” the bard quickly corrected his words after seeing Radovid’s face twist in displeasure. “But I’m afraid I have to decline. You see, I’m currently in the middle of a very important quest that I must see through to the end.”
The king’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. “So you’d choose that witcher over me? Even after everything he’s put you through? I could give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, comfort and luxury beyond your wildest dreams, but you’d seriously rather continue following that monster like a lost puppy?”
The bard wasn’t happy with the name Radovid used to describe his dearest friend, but he let it go, choosing to focus on the matter at hand. “I’m sorry Radovid. It is what it is.”
A glimpse of hurt flashed in the king’s eyes and his shoulder’s slumped as he turned away from the bard. He took a few deep breaths before he straightened up again. When their eyes met once more, Radovid’s hardened gaze was filled with resolve. Jaskier waited with bated breath for his response.
“If you won’t come with me willingly… I’ll just have to bring you by force.”
Jaskier’s eyes widened and his blood ran cold. Before he was able to do anything, two guards surrounded him and grabbed his shoulders from each side. He thrashed wildly but it was for naught, the bard being much weaker than his captors. “No-, Radovid- please don’t do this, I’m begging you!” He asked desperately.
The king looked down at him with his chin up and an air of confidence surrounding him, for the first time appearing as ruthless and regal as his title implied.
“I’m afraid I can’t listen to you darling. One of the perks of being a king is that I can do and have whatever I wish for, and nobody can stand in my way.” He waved his hand towards the bard nonchalantly as he addressed his followers. “Bring him a pen and paper. Have him write a letter to the witcher and deliver it to the innkeeper. He’ll know what to do.”
The guards dragged Jaskier towards a desk and deposited him in a chair, writing tools bring placed on the surface before him a moment later. His hand was shaking as he picked up the pen. A tear slid down his cheek as he tried one last time to change the king’s mind. “Please Radovid... Let me go.”
The king crossed his arms and his mouth formed a tight line. “That’s ‘Your Majesty’ to you.”
Jaskier let out a sob and stared down at the paper, blinking rapidly in an effort to clear his blurry eyesight. His mind was racing trying to find a way to leave some sort of secret message to alert Geralt of his situation. Radovid seemed to read his thoughts however, because he gripped the bard’s nape tightly and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Don’t even think about pulling any tricks or your dear witcher and the rest of your group will leave their last breaths at the camp they’re currently stationed on. My soldiers have the place surrounded as we speak.”
With those words the bards last hope was extinguished. The last thing he wanted to do was put his friends in danger. Even with their combined extraordinary strength, he didn’t want to chance either of them getting seriously injured. If obedience was the price to pay for their safety, then so be it.
“At least promise me you’ll leave them alone.”
Radovid gave a chaste kiss to the bard’s neck and ran what would be considered under normal circumstances a comforting hand down his back. “You have my word. I didn't care about them in the first place.” He gave the bard one last squeeze and went to sit back in his throne.
Jaskier took a deep breath and started writing. The single tear that hit the paper, while certain to be identifiable with the witcher’s heightened senses, would probably be assumed to have been a product of Jaskier’s typical sentimentality and nothing more.
Dear Geralt,
You’ll find me dearly saddened to inform you that our long-standing companionship must come to an end. You see, I’ve had time to think while staying in this lovely little settlement away from you lot, and I've come to realize what it is I truly want. That of course being king Radovid of Redania. I’ve talked to you about our ill-fated relationship before as you might recall. Somehow, things for us two don’t seem as bleak as they one were. I can see a light at the end of the tunnel and thus I’ve decided to go to Redania and try to build a future with him. Love conquers all and the like.
For the first time in my life, I’m putting myself before you. I’m choosing my own happiness. I hope you’re able to achieve your goals and manage to locate Ciri safe and sound. When you do, which I've no doubt you'll achieve, give her all my love. Please inform the rest of our group about my decision. I’m sorry for doing this so suddenly but you know how matters of the heart can be. They leave no room for patience.
Ever your affectionate friend,
Julian Alfred Pankratz.
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geraskierficrecs · 8 months
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An Offer You Can’t Refuse Update!
New Chapter Here.
Teaser:
He was walking through the trees with a wolf by his side.
There was no fear or pain in this place, strange though it was.  Around him, the details were blurry, but he didn’t question the strange new edges of his universe.  Beneath his fingertips, he felt the thick fur of the wolf grounding him to the earth.
It took effort to tilt his face away from the path ahead of him towards the beast at his side.  A hulking black wolf stalked along beside him, large enough for his shoulder to reach Geralt’s chest.
A name trembled at the edge of his tongue, but, as soon as he opened his mouth, the wolf evaporated like smoke.
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endless-whump · 6 months
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Whumptober day 1: Safety net
This is my ao3 account! I post Witcher fanfic on occasion and am going to be attempting some Whumptober prompts this year. If I get the time and energy for it I may even try to pull out some oc’s for old times sake
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beth--b · 2 years
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Not all monsters have claws
For @sicktember prompts 17. Fainting + 18. Nausea/upset stomach
The room was spinning.
Why was it spinning?
How did he get here?
Where was here?
He couldn’t remember…much of anything really.
He had been performing, he knew that much.
Geralt…he needed to get Geralt. He’d be able to fix things.
“Geralt,” he moaned, falling to his knees. The pain he felt as he hit the ground was distant, almost like it was happening to someone else. He felt wrong. This was all wrong.
He was vaguely aware of falling forward as his vision greyed out and he knew no more.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jaskier had been performing while Geralt was off on a hunt. There had been several deaths, both young men and women, and the alderman had paid half the fee up front. Unsure what the monster was, they had rented a room and Jaskier had arranged to play for the evening while Geralt was out gathering intel.
The crowd had warmed to him quickly as he played a few popular, but rather lewd songs. As the night wore on they were stomping their feet and clapping along.
He eventually took a break, happily taking the ale that one of the patron’s had offered him. It wasn’t unusual after all to be offered a drink or two when he took a break or wrapped up for the evening if the crowd was amicable.
He was half way through the drink when things started to go wrong.
At first he just thought it was a little warm. He had spent the last hour or so dancing around the room while singing his heart out after all. Nothing unusual there to feel a little hot and sweaty. But the longer he sat at the bar the warmer he felt.
Someone came up to him to praise his performance, at least that’s what he thought they were saying. He wasn’t really sure anymore, the room was too hot, too bright and his stomach was churning. Everything was swaying but he wasn’t dancing anymore was he?
Only half aware of what he was doing he stood and pushed himself away from the bar, the person who had been talking to him seemingly decided he wasn’t worth the effort and left him be while he stumbled out of the room.
He needed air.
He couldn’t breathe.
He felt sick.
Somehow he found himself outside, unaware that he was being followed.
He fell to his knees as the world spun around him, eventually collapsing forward to the ground.
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Geralt was heading back into town, frustrated but not surprised that there was no sign of any monster. There was something about the deaths that made him uncertain that the monster was the kind that a Witcher would hunt. The victims had all been young, they were both male and female but shared a common trait of having dark hair. Geralt had hoped it was a particularly picky vampire or the like but there was no sign of anything untoward outside of the town. He was becoming more convinced that the killer was human but he had no proof.
He had just settled Roach back in the stables and was walking around to the entrance of the tavern Jaskier had been playing at when he saw the bard in question stumble out into the street and collapse.
“Fuck,” he growled, taking off at a run to the fallen bard.
Another figure came up behind Jaskier, Geralt thought for a brief moment they were going to help the younger man until he saw the rope.
Geralt tackled the stranger, throwing his full weight into the person and pinning them to the ground.
“Who are you?”
“Ah sir witcher, I was just trying to he-”
“Don’t bother lying. I can smell the deceit on you. The blood, and the rot.”
Geralt stood up, dragging the stranger with him. The commotion had drawn someone out of the tavern and Geralt looked at the old man who was standing in the doorway.
“Have someone fetch the alderman,” Geralt turned back to the person he had restrained before him and used the rope that the stranger had dropped in their scuffle to tie him up. More people had come outside and Geralt pushed the man towards them growling at them to keep him there until the alderman showed up.
Finally able to focus on the bard he turned back to Jaskier and gently turned him over. Jaskier had some grazes on his face from where he had fallen and would surely have some impressive bruising within the next few hours, but otherwise seemed relatively unharmed. He lifted the younger man into his arms and carried him back up to their room, setting him down on the bed so he could look him over.
He added some wood to the small fire that was burning in the hearth and removed his gloves.
The bard had obviously been drugged. At a guess it was just something to knock him out for a few hours, make him more compliant for the bastard who was attacking and killing people in the town and making it seem like a monster was on the loose.
Geralt did what he could to make Jaskier comfortable, he removed his boots, cleaned his face of blood and then lay a cloth on his heated brow.
Satisfied that there was nothing left to do but wait for the bard to wake up, Geralt settled in on the floor beside the bed.
Other than the innkeeper coming to let him know that the man he had caught was being taken to the town’s holding cell they were undisturbed for several hours.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When Jaskier woke up the first thing he became aware of was that he was on a bed. Since the last thing he remembered before that was stumbling out of the tavern and feeling like he was on fire it was a welcome change.
At least it was until he realised that he didn’t know which bed he was in and there was a possibly murderous monster on the loose. Feeling himself start to panic he struggled to open his heavy eyelids to confirm where he actually was only to have someone grab his hand. The hand holding his was immediately familiar and he felt himself relax.
Geralt was here.
He must be in their room in the inn.
He was alright.
He hadn’t been caught by a monster.
The hand holding onto his squeezed a little tighter and Jaskier finally managed to open his eyes, wincing at the light in the room, low though it was.
“Ger’lt?”
“Jaskier, how are you feeling?”
“Hmm…been better,” he cleared his throat and a moment later Geralt was helping him to sit up and sip from one of their water skins. “What happened?”
“You were drugged by the killer.”
“Drugged by the what?”
“The killer was human, not a monster after all.”
“Fuck. Well then, thank you for saving me?” he offered, though he wasn’t sure at what point Geralt had actually arrived.
“What do you remember?”
“Well I was performing and then I went to the bar and was offered a drink. Then I just remember feeling far too hot and ill and needing to get some air.”
Geralt nodded as if this confirmed a theory he had. Jaskier was flagging again and leaning heavily into the witcher who was still helping support him on the bed.
“Get some more sleep Jaskier.”
“Stay?” Jaskier asked, shuffling over as much as he could on the bed, eyelids drooping.
Geralt wordlessly took the invitation, laying beside the bard and opening his arms so Jaskier could curl into his chest. The witcher dropped a soft kiss to the brunette locks and Jaskier relaxed into sleep.
Satisfied that Jaskier would be alright, albeit a little bruised and weak for a few days, Geralt closed his own eyes and finally let himself relax
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spielzeugkaiser · 7 months
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Ciri feels a bit like she's been in the way, once Geralt and Milek become closer - like she held him back somehow.
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The thing I think is crucial about this - things went wrong and Geralt missed out on seeing Milek growing up - but Geralt is a dad. The parallels are there.
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larkoneironaut · 11 months
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The Kaer Morhen theme plays in the distance
Nah, I’m kidding, it’s actually Drink Up, There’s More, because that’s the only tune my last brain cell plays on it’s tin whistle
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everyone's rightfully talking about jaskier's "get rid of him" and Trauma-Rooted Finger Fidgeting about rience but what about "I'll come find you when rience is dead" "or he'll find me once you are" like. jaskier is absolutely fucking terrified of rience coming for him again and I'm in fucking shambles
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tielmamon · 1 month
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"The White wolf himself! It's an honor to finally meet the man Jaskier never shuts up about." Radovid gracefully presents his hand for the witcher to kiss. Geralt does not. Instead, he stares at the prince with an eerily blank expression and takes a step forward. Then another. Then another. Until Radovid feels the rough, painfully jagged texture of the cave wall against his back. He looks at the witcher, now looming before him in the shadows. Bright yellow eyes- those of a predator pierces through the darkness like a knife and stab through his chest like a cold chill.
"I'm sure you are well aware of my...fondness for Jaskier. We've travelled together for almost 25 years now. He is, in his own ridiculous words my very best friend in the whole wide world."
Radovid chuckles, which seems to be the wrong response because Geralt's eye twitches and the hand near Radovid's side curls into a fist so tight he hears the leather of the man's glove whine.
"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Now, with that I must lay down a few things for you to remember, your highness. Lest you overstep and find yourself upsetting my bard." Radovid swallows, blood running ice cold.
"If I ever catch wind of you mistreating, manipulating, or abusing Jaskier in anyway, a few things will happen to you."
"First, I will find you, wherever you are on this continent and I will kill you. It will be a very sudden, painful and very violently death. A coach suddenly pushed off a cliff, an unexpected kikimora loose in the castle, poison in your morning tea that feels like acid down your throat. I don't know, haven't really decided yet."
"Then after that, I will watch as your spirit becomes vengeful and restless, transforming into a wraith- a monster born out of gruesome, untimely deaths. Then I kill you again, for the second time. This time not by my blade, but by my fire. I will burn you, and watch as your spirit, your very soul wails in agony, turning to ash at the sight of your charred, desecrated bones." Geralt leans in close, stopping just shy of the pale prince's hear and whispers.
"And that's not even mentioning what unspeakable horrors my daughter and her mother are sure to do to you beforehand." Radovid shakes under the cold intensity of Geralt's gaze. They both hear the bard in question singing just an earshot away from where they stood. Radovid flinches so hard that his back is scratched by a particularly sharp rock. Geralt, on the other hand mearly turns to the sound, smiling softly for a moment before facing the prince once again.
"Have I made myself clear, your highness?" His smile never leaving his face, Geralt bares his teeth to show the sharp canines that look more lion than wolf.
"C-Crystal." Radovid stutters.
"Geralt? Have you seen- Oh! There you are, dear."
"Hmmm" In a blink of an eye, the witcher is a considerable distance away from the terrified prince. Already walking toward the bard, Geralt claps a hand on his shoulder as he passes him to reach Roach. Radovid watches Jaskier lean against the friendly touch, beaming.
"How are my two favorite men in the world? Getting along well, I hope?"
"Oh, we get along just fine. Don't we, your highness?" He looks at him now with casual disinterest, but there was a glint in the man's eye. It sends a shiver up the prince's spine and he all too suddenly remembers the moniker the man used to have before Jaskier came along.
"Absolutely. "
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ellieslittleburrow · 3 months
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Geralt Headcanons
Painrings : Geralt of rivia x daughter/ Geralt x platonic! Reader
Warnings : none
A/N : hello peeps, i tried my best to make them broader and not just limit them to father daughter stuff, we can turn one of them into a little ficcie if desired. Alsoo Comments are much much appreciated. Enjoyyy 🥀
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You and Geralt had found each other on destiny's commands. It wasn't easy, suddenly being under somebody's wing, having to trust them and listen to them.
Whenever danger was felt, Geralt would place a hand on your shoulder, his own little protective move, prepared for whatever's about to come.
When you're out in a market or somewhere he deems to be dangerous, he makes sure to always be somewhere behind you. No matter how far you get away, he's always somewhere close watching over you.
After a few of your nightly freakouts, Geralt offered up a little spot beside him every night. He doesn't order you to come over. He doesn't ask if you want to come over. He just settles down on whatever bed he's sleeping on and puffs up a little pillow he keeps beside him. If it's a whole seperate room. Then the same line is growled :"I'll keep my door open in case i am needed."
A boy smiles at you and the witcher is there to smile back. Not in a possessive way. Not in a she is untouchable kind of way. Just a simple smile, to assert his threatening presence. A smile that says if she is hurt, you're fucked.
Mornings are your least favorite time of the day. Geralt is always at the foot of your bed, gently swinging your foot left and right, in an attempt to wake you up. It surely annoys you but it's not until he grabs your wrist and pulls it upwards that you start getting annoyed. And then comes the full pull, when he grabs you from under the armpits and drags you out. You groan in unpleasentness but let go anyways.
Late nights are for sure your favorites, though. Just a grumpy old guy running after you and pleading for you to go to sleep. You dodge his reaching arm, giggling at his frowning features. He growls your name and sighs, giving up. And you just stand awkwardly, triumph radiating out of you.
What you reeeally dislike, though, is those little fights you and Geralt have about your future and your training. Him not wanting you to get in harm's way. You doing everything possible to get in harm's way. He yells at you. You never ended up crying or anything like that. You just bottled it up and sat in your little corner, getting slowly eaten up by the deafening silence that reigns the space. But then one of you breaks it. And everything slowly goes back to normal.
All in all, life with the witcher is not easy. But how could you deny the warmth that coated your broken heart, the warmth that filled it with love. The warmth that filled it with the father, brother, protector that you never had.
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End of poem. I could never use such methodology for my own school work, goddammit. Anyway, i hope yall like this ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀
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penandinkprincess · 2 years
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okay but alternative post-mountain option of jaskier just being THE fucking pettiest person and pretending he doesn’t know geralt at all, which leads to geralt coming to the conclusion that he’s been the victim of a curse to erase his memory so he has to fix it, and by the time jaskier figures out what geralt decided was happening, he’s in too deep and can’t fess up and just has to double down on the amnesia bit 
#geraskier#geralt#jaskier#pen posts#jask doesn't act afraid or anything he just treats geralt like every other witcher#polite but distant#(when in reality he would actually be JUST as a friendly with any other witcher but geralt's never seen him interact with any of the others)#and jask has taken to wearing hella cologne bc he doesnt' have to think about witcher noses anymore clearly#so geralt can't smell his emotions underneath it all and GENUINELY thinks jaskier doesn't know him#bc he knows jaskier and expected the bard to be PISSED. it's why he got down the mountain so fast.#but this impersonal calm MUST mean he's been cursed#OH MAN GERALT HAVING TO BE THE ONE TO GET JASKIER TO TRAVEL WITH HIM AGAIN SO HE CAN FIX IT#BC HE FEELS GUILTY THAT A PART OF JASKIER'S LIFE WAS STOLEN BC HE WASN'T THERE TO PROTECT HIM#meanwhile jask JUST caught onto the fact that geralt thinks he's cursed and is weighing dropping the bit against putting up with this#but well#geralt is being so sweet and solicitous he doesn't really want to give it up#bc it's nice after so many years to be BLATANTLY played to#and well he deserves it doesn't it? after the mountain? why shouldn't he be coddled a little bit?#oh MAN the bittersweet of seeing how their relationship COULD have gone if geralt had put it even a smidge of effort#and jaskier wondering if this is all coming from guilt and if geralt ever ACTUALLY cared#meanwhile geralt is thinking the same thing bc it's so nice to take care of jask and to make him happy#and he's kicking himself for how long it took him to realize it all and that it's only when jaskier doesn't realize it#JUST GUILT AND NO BRAINCELLS ACROSS THE BOARD#OH MAN jaskier cries when he finally confesses bc the guilt is too much for him bc ti went farther than he ever meant for it to#and he thinks now he's lost it forever right when he was finally able to enjoy it#and geralt just hugs him (BC HE DOES AFFECTIONATE TOUCHES NOW MOTHERFUCKER)#bc it's what he should have been doing all along and ASKS FOR JASKIER'S FORGIVENESS BC NOW HE KNOWS HOW ONE SIDED THEY WERE#UNO REVERSE APOLOGY
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yeraskier · 9 months
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thinking about how when geralt finally kills rience he won't just be protecting ciri, he'll also be avenging jaskier
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renegadesstuff · 8 months
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PROTECT JASKIER AT ALL COSTS 🥺😭❤️‍🩹
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geraskierficrecs · 1 year
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An Offer You Can’t Refuse Update!
A soft, Lambert/Aiden-heavy chapter is available here!
Teaser:
On Wednesday night, he found himself standing behind the bar without the rush of a weekend crowd to distract him from his thoughts.  There were only about half of their usual crowd milling around and only a few wandered over for drinks.  Most of them had found seats at the tables nearby and were talking among themselves instead of bothering to go onto the dancefloor.
“I need another round for table three,” Rose said, setting her tray on the countertop.  She watched him begin making the drink while she leaned against the bar.  “Are you working tomorrow?”
Aiden shook his head.  “No, they’re closed for some sort of meeting.”
“Oh, I forget you’re not official yet,” she replied, looking pointedly over to the office where Lambert was hiding out of sight.  
The other wolf taken to disappearing as soon as Aiden arrived each night, skulking around at the fringes of the crowd when he thought Aiden wouldn’t notice.  There was a silent truce between them now–as long as Lambert kept his distance, Aiden didn’t burn the building to the ground around them.  
The curdling, awful feeling in his gut hadn’t gotten any better in the days since Lambert had rejected him.  His own wolf was more restless than he’d ever felt.  It took all of his effort not to bay a challenge as soon as he stepped through the doors of Kaer Morhen.  His wolf wanted to demand answers or blood for the pain and confusion he’d felt.  The man just wanted to forget about the pity in Lambert’s expression when he’d pushed him away.
Lips twisting into a scowl, Aiden put the mugs of beer onto the tray with more force than strictly necessary.  “There is no ‘yet.’  I’m just here to work.”
Rose took the tray without reacting to the irritation that must be obvious on his face.  “Sure sure,” she agreed easily enough.  “Just make sure you don’t make up too quickly–I intend to make some money off the two of you’s angst.”
“You bet on me?” Aiden asked, but the waitress walked away without answering.  He frowned harder down at the shaker behind the bar.  “Ridiculous.”
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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.
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